by TW Iain
“On occasions.”
“Like the Brothers?” That was from Irazette.
Rodin shook his head. “Worked with them, worked against them. But Vanya’s old boss, he’s not someone I’d cross.”
“Fair enough.” Irazette turned to Vanya, then to Paskia. “All the information we can get, right?”
Paskia nodded. “We’ll contact whatever sources we can. Rodin, anything Genna can do?”
Interesting that she asked him, and not Vanya. But a good leader always ensured each member of the team had a task, a stake in the operation. “I can ask.”
“Good.” Paskia looked around the table, and Rodin noticed how she held the eyes of each individual for a moment, just like Genna always did. “So we gather intel, and we prepare. Rodin, Vanya—if you need a rest, use the back room. Gorrin’s already pulled in a few old mattresses. Going to move our bedding in there later anyway. Wash-room through the second door. No showers that work, but there’s running water.” She nodded to Uran. “First thing we got sorted after security, right?”
He smiled at her, cheeks reddening.
“Okay,” Paskia said. “Work, rest, whatever we need. Let’s do this.”
- 13 -
Cat had anticipated a relaxing train ride to the Factory, but now he shared a cabin with Iralla. True, the woman had spoken little on their way to the station, but her silence was unsettling.
“Don said you were in Kern for a few years,” Cat said once the train pulled away. He’d called up a standard view-scene on the screen, and an artificial landscape scrolled past.
“About five,” she said, easing back her chair. She hadn’t unbuttoned her jacket, and her appearance was still overly formal. “And before that I trained in Sousie, taking the two-year agents program after a six-year stint within other branches of Authority.” She inclined her head. “That was what you were after, wasn’t it? A little background information on me?”
“My main intention was to make polite conversation, but I must admit to being curious. And you can hardly find fault with me wishing to learn what I can about my co-worker, not when we’re engaged in such an important task.”
“So you believe this inspection to be a vital part of Authority’s ongoing work?”
“Why else would it necessitate two of us?”
She gave a shrug, the material of her jacket rubbing against the fabric of the seat. “For myself, I was under the impression this was to be a way for Don to observe me in action, to satisfy my abilities in his own mind. I assumed you are to be watching me as much as inspecting the facility.”
There was merit to that idea, but her tone was too prepared, and Cat knew Iralla used these words as a cover. It was another reminder that Cat couldn’t afford to relax.
Iralla’s presence was more than an annoyance, though. There were…things Cat wished to do in the Dome, actions that she would surely construe as suspicious. It was clear that she didn’t trust him—although as an experienced Authority agent she’d have little trust to give anyone—and so he needed to play this game with subtlety.
They talked, a conversation of layers. On the surface their words were pleasant, with discussions of the differences and similarities between Domes, a diversion into the fine food they both professed to enjoy, minor grumblings about their constant travel requirements. But beneath the surface they both probed.
Iralla wasn’t interested in fine food—she hadn’t picked up on Cat’s subtly introduced inaccuracies—but her dissatisfaction with travel did come across as genuine. He judged that she’d spent minimal time outside, her work most likely limited to Domes and outlying facilities, although she must have entered the districts as part of her training.
“You’ve been to this Factory before?” she asked. The bluntness of the question, and the change of tack, couldn’t have been in error.
“A couple of times,” he responded, keeping his tone conversational, “although not for a few years. Most of my current tasks have been based around First Dome.” Offer that as a lead, see where she took it.
“Do you believe the most recent reports give an accurate picture?”
She focused on this mission, then, rather than digging for information on Cat’s past. Whether that was through disinterest or because she already knew enough, he couldn’t say.
“You know as well as I do that the reports focused on the routine production of the Factory,” Cat said. “I would imagine that those running the facility understand where our interests lie. Even if Therick has not informed any of those under him, the owner himself will realise this is no ordinary inspection.”
Iralla’s hand rested on the arm of her chair, and her fingers stretched out now. It was a movement Cat had noticed before, often when he’d left his words open to interpretation. A sign of discomfort, possibly, as if she was aware that he viewed her with distrust.
She didn’t have his years of work with Authority, and that might indicate a certain misplaced confidence in her own abilities, but Cat couldn’t rely on that. After all, Don had once been Cat’s protégé, and now he’d proved himself to be far more adept, at least in climbing the hierarchy within Authority. No, Cat couldn’t treat Iralla as inferior because of her age. If her true mission was to investigate Cat himself, Authority must consider her equal to that task.
“And you believe that the forces from the lower levels will soon be deployed?” she asked.
He brought his arms wide. “Who am I to even attempt to predict the deep workings of our superiors? But I must entertain the possibility of that scenario.”
“Especially with the disturbances around First.”
Interesting that she returned to First Dome now. “There are always disturbances in the districts surrounding any Dome,” he said. “But I admit those particular troubles were foremost in my mind.”
“Undoubtedly due to your close connection with that area.”
Cat nodded, hiding his wry smile and the confirmation that this is what she probed for. “I have built up an understanding of the key players around First, even a certain rapport with some of them. But my work is guided by my superiors. I cannot allow for personal distractions. I intend to inspect Therick’s Factory with all due professionalism.”
He felt the urge to shift his feet, and was conscious of the small package inserted into the lining of his right boot. Conscious of, because he couldn’t really feel it. But its presence weighed heavy, threatened to shout out the lie in his words.
“Indeed,” Iralla said, a word that could have so many interpretations. “I hear that some of these disturbances have involved field testing of our new products.”
Cat pulled his mind from the chip in his boot and concentrated on his co-worker, his opponent. Her habit of asking questions in the form of statements was growing tiresome, and maybe that was the point. He needed to remain focused.
“There is only so much testing that can take place in controlled environments,” he said. “If your training was similar to my own, you can attest to that, I’m sure. But as to the exact nature of the forces behind those disturbances around First, I can only make guesses and assumptions. And that area is not my current concern.”
Iralla’s fingers stretched again, and Cat had to wonder if his attempt to distance himself from First had been too strong, too obvious. But he couldn’t take back the words, or the tone in which he’d spoken.
He glanced down at the screen he’d placed on the table, and read the chrono. “We should arrive soon,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I find it useful to spend the final moments of any journey in preparation. Even though I’ve fully digested the files, another brief perusal often brings greater clarity.”
He leaned forward as she nodded in polite acceptance of his request. She extracted a screen from an inside pocket.
And as they both scanned through data, screens held at angles to keep prying eyes at bay, Cat concentrated.
Don didn’t trust Cat, but he couldn’t make
a move without evidence. Don knew Cat would be too careful within the controlled environment of the Dome. But in the field—well, that was where the real testing took place. That was where someone like Cat might make a mistake.
And Don had sent Iralla to uncover those mistakes.
The train rumbled on, the vibration in Cat’s seat almost pleasant. The image on the screen flew past, giving the illusion of travel through pleasant lands. Yet Cat knew the train ran through a concrete tunnel, encased on all sides.
- 14 -
The clouds had gone, and the afternoon sun was surprisingly warm. Paskia still had her jacket fastened though, just as she’d been taught—easier to move without material flapping about, easier to reach her weapons and tools. She didn’t expect trouble, but it was safer to be prepared.
She thought she’d been prepared to see Rodin again, but that hadn’t gone quite how she’d envisaged. There hadn’t been anything wrong in his behaviour, but…but there hadn’t been anything special, either. She’d expected his distance, but there should have been a few…looks, or something. Maybe words that had a hidden meaning, something she could latch on to. She thought it might have been tiredness—Vanya said he’d been on his feet for the last twenty-four hours—but after a rest he was still the same.
When Gorrin and Irazette returned from their reconnaissance—with little new to report—and when Vanya was up, Paskia asked Rodin if he wanted to check out the Haze. She offered to be his guide.
His shrug was less expressive than the frown on Irazette’s face—but this was Paskia’s call. Being in charge didn’t mean she had to stay inside the whole time.
“How’s it working out, running this group?” he asked as they passed one of the fetid ponds that were regular features of this district. It was the first question he’d asked since leaving the base twenty minutes ago.
“Good. It’s a tight unit. Experienced.”
“Everyone?”
“Gorrin and Uran worked around Ross for years, and Irazette has been close to Kern. They know what they’re doing.”
“And you?”
She bit down her annoyance. “Might not have their years, but it’s been intense. More troubles round the Factory—the northern one—but it’s been fine.”
“Yeah, heard about that. Just you and Jerone?”
“Initially. Cat called in a few others. Seems like Authority’s getting restless.”
“Stirring up locals, right?”
“Causing disruption, yeah.”
“Too much for the two of you to deal with.”
He kept his focus on the streets and the surrounding area, didn’t look at her. Just as well—he wouldn’t have appreciated her glare.
“No need to be like that.”
“Like what?”
She took a deep breath. “We’re both professionals now.”
He sighed, loud enough that she turned to look at him again. There was more grey in his hair—or maybe that was because he’d let it grow out, let it reach down to his collar. She wondered if that was intentional.
“Can’t fault me for being cautious,” he said. “Met too many who thought they knew what they were doing.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“Never said that.” Those words came fast, like an excuse. “And you’ve got some good minds in the Factory, right? Heard about the fake riot.”
Paskia knew what he was doing, but she followed his lead. This wasn’t the time for an argument. “Worked well. And you know who was responsible for most of the choreography? Daventree.” She smiled at the jerk of his head.
“Daventree organised a mock battle on a workfloor?” There was genuine appreciation in his voice—like he could believe a change in the man from the Dome, but still thought of Paskia as she’d been in Ross.
No. Not the time. Be professional.
“Joint effort, but he co-ordinated it.”
“Idea came from Cat?”
Again, Rodin kept his tone flat. But the undertow, like he’d caught a bad smell, was still there.
“Had input. Can’t recall who first thought of it. Like I said, it was a joint effort. Authority work as a group, so we stand a better chance against them when we pool our strengths.”
Paskia didn’t turn her head, but watched from the corner of her eye. Rodin was good at hiding his emotions, though, and she almost missed the twitch of his lips, the brief scowl that flashed across his forehead.
He nodded, the sort of mindless gesture that might have been in response to her words but could as easily have been an involuntary action. It raised his head, though, and he cast his eyes around their surroundings.
“When do we get to this Haze?” he asked—another blatant shift to avoid awkward subjects.
And, again, Paskia let it ride. “Not a defined area,” she said. “The industrial area’s the heart of it, but it stretches to the housing just north of that. Probably people around who call these streets part of the Haze too.”
“Fair enough.” His head still bobbed as he looked around. “The name mean anything?”
She shrugged. “Just a name.” A pause. “Like Rodin.”
His lips twitched again. “You want me to go back to being Brodie?”
Paskia’s heart thudded. “Brodie wouldn’t be out here with me.”
“No?”
“Not his scene. More a thinker than a doer.” She flashed Rodin a smile, noted how he looked away. “Cute, though.” And was there more colour in his cheeks now?
“Good job I’m here, then,” he said, the words sounding forced. “This area under surveillance?”
She nodded, understood. “From us, and from others. We need to be careful. Come on.”
They moved to the side of the street, then across an open area to the first of the industrial buildings. Her team had already explored inside, finding nothing beyond broken glass and plaster. Most of the roof had collapsed, and one of the large metal doors hung at an extreme angle, ready to fall at any moment.
“More open than the old factory to the north,” Rodin noted.
“Multiple entrances too. How do you want to play this?”
He scanned the area. “Let’s move right, work round the perimeter.”
They kept close to the building itself, walking in a half-crouch. Paskia let Rodin take the lead—easier that way—and his head whipped back and forth, scanning the surroundings. Then he held up a hand, dropped even lower.
She mirrored his actions, focusing. There might have been movement, over to the left, but it could have been nothing more than wind against foliage, or a trick of the light.
Or something else. Made sense to stop.
Rodin pulled a micro-Eye and screen from his pocket, set them up, angled the Eye toward the building to their left.
“Last time Uran checked,” she whispered, “that one was empty.” And she cringed, waited for some thinly veiled insult.
But Rodin focused on his screen. Paskia peered over his shoulder, followed his gaze as he zoomed the image onto a short tree with heavy branches, thick with leaves. The leaves shifted.
“There,” he said, pointing.
At the base of the trunk, almost obscured by the branches, crouched two figures. As Paskia’s eyes adjusted to their presence, she saw that one was male, the other female. Both wore grey mottled clothing, and both had long hair tied back.
It was obvious that they were watching Paskia and Rodin.
“Folk round here friendly?” Rodin asked, his lips barely moving.
“Keep to themselves. Haven’t caused us any problems yet.”
He nodded. “Good enough.” And then he straightened up, stowed the Eye and screen in his jacket before turning to Paskia. He gave her a smile that reminded her of Brodie, and she saw his face without the lines, without the scars.
“Want to meet the neighbours?” he said.
- 15 -
There were many
times when Cat’s role—his official one as a part of Authority—was routine to the point of boredom, and the initial inspection of the Factory was one of those times.
He played his part with ease, asking just enough slightly awkward questions to keep Therick, the pompous owner, on his toes, but without giving the man cause to panic. Cat talked to the supervisors—Therick referred to them as ‘nominal supervisors’ for some reason—as well as to many of the workers themselves. He found minor faults with work practices and issues with some of the fixtures and fittings. And, amongst all that, he offered enough praise to lead Therick to expect an overall satisfactory report.
Iralla did the same, and to any observer it would have appeared that the woman and Cat were equals. At times he took the lead, at other times she was at the forefront of the investigation.
But Cat observed her almost as much as he did the Factory. Her demeanour shifted throughout the inspection—never so much that she appeared manipulative or unhinged, but enough to extract answers from personnel that they would rather not offer. In many cases, they were no doubt unaware they had given anything up. At times she’d act off-hand, as if the whole process was beneath her. Then she’d smile and lean her body in seductively to encourage others to talk. At other times she’d act keen to the point of childish excitement. This was especially true in Therick’s tech room, where the four workers hunched over their screens seemed thrilled that this woman from the Dome itself was almost as engaged in the play of data as they were.
It helped that she knew what she was talking about.
“So you’ve assigned a separate matrix coefficient to every single worker?” she asked, her voice filled with respect for such a fine idea.
“Absolutely,” said the short female with the long hair, the one Therick had introduced as Ley. “And the algorithm can reassign and adjust in real-time, automatically adapting to situations. It took so many data-hours to set up, but for most of the time the system runs itself now.”
“Fascinating. But doesn’t that diminish your role?”
