Jani flash-filtered all the scuttlebutt she had heard over the past weeks. “The problems I’ve heard about are confined to Karistos. It’s a typical colonial capital, grown too big too quickly. The infrastructure hasn’t kept pace. Skimways can’t handle the traffic. Water treatment facilities are overtaxed. Last month, a majority of the population got dosed with a microbial contaminant that had infested the treatment system of the primary facility. Several people died.”
“Twenty-two,” Lescaux piped. Jani acknowledged the information with a nod, Derringer not at all.
“The plant needs an upgrade—that’s a given. A new plant is the best solution, but you’re talking two to three years down the road before that’s completed.” He thumped his thigh with a closed fist. “Take a wild guess who’s volunteered to help the Elyans with their micro problems in the meantime. Just guess.”
Jani blinked innocently. “The regular crop of Family-connected suppliers, the ones who designed the inadequate plant in the first place.”
Derringer glared from Jani to Lescaux. “Tell her.”
For an instant, Lucien’s sharpness flashed in Lescaux’s eyes. Then he looked at Jani, and the boyish aspect returned. “The Elyan Haárin surprised us all. They struck a deal with the Karistos city government for a microbial filter assembly with sufficient capacity to tide over the Karistosians until the new plant is built.”
“The Haárin sold us a component that they use in their own water treatment?” Jani looked at Derringer. “The Rauta Shèràa Council will consider that a violation of their dietary protocols. The Oligarch won’t allow it.”
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” Derringer deigned to glance at Lescaux once more. “Show her the big surprise.”
Lescaux rummaged through the briefbag on the seat beside him. “It took several passes through the stacks of contract documentation before we realized what we had.” The shy smile shone once more. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how easy it is to overlook that one vital piece of paper.” He fumbled through his files once, then again. His searching grew more agitated as the soft patpatpat of Derringer’s fingers drumming on the leather upholstery filled the cabin. “Ah!” He yanked a document out of its slipcase—the high-pitched tearing noise of smooth parchment sliding over pebbled plastic made Jani cringe.
“Thank you.” She took the document from him as though it was wet tissue, her thumbs and index fingers gripping the top corners. “Ease it out of the slipcase from now on—abrasion can play hell with the inset chips.”
“Sorry.” Lescaux wavered between sheepish apology and expectant anxiety as he watched Jani examine the document. “You see what that is, don’t you?”
Jani draped the paper across her knees. “It’s an analysis of the Karistos city council decision to contract with the Elyan Haárin.” She ran her fingers along the edges once, then again. The paper possessed the substantial, almost fleshy feel of highest quality parchment. “Best grade of paper. Premium inks and foils.” She reached for her duffel. “If you want me to scan—”
“Just read the bottom paragraph,” Derringer growled.
“I’ll read the entire thing.” Jani activated her scanpack and set it beside her on the seat. “Neat little precis describing how the Karistos city government has come to depend on the Elyan Haárin for many things—shipping and receiving of goods and documents, design and maintenance of everything from devices and instruments to buildings.” She shrugged. “It’s the way of the colonies—human and Haárin doing business together. Some Haárin enclaves have been in existence since before the Laum-Vynshàrau civil war. They remained in place even during the postwar cessation of human-idomeni diplomatic relations. Over the course, the Haárin have sold us things that violated their dietary protocols. But they never wrote it down, and they sure as hell never drew up a formal agreement that required a buy-in from Shèrá.”
“Keep reading.” Derringer kept his gaze fixed on the view outside. They’d entered the far north region of the city, a place of narrower streets and smaller buildings separated by stretches of parkland, and he seemed to be savoring the early fall scenery.
You’re not the sight-seeing type, Eugene. Jani turned back to the document. “The writer concludes the piece by stating that”—her voice faltered—“that the Haárin have set out purposely to win the trust and confidence of the human population of Karistos with a mind toward undermining colonial security. Acquiring control over utilities and infrastructure by supplying vital services and equipment will serve as the first step in this infiltration.” She flicked at the document with her thumb and forefinger—the sharp crack filled the cabin. “That’s bull.”
Lescaux’s chin jutted defensively. “Exterior takes these opinions very seriously.”
“The reason the Haárin want to provide us with vital services and equipment is because there’s money to be made.” Jani thought back to some of the Haárin she had known. “They like money. They like the reputation they’ve garnered for sound business practices. Those things give them a freedom they don’t have within the Shèrá worldskein—they’re not going to do anything to screw that up.”
Lescaux cleared his throat. “Exterior believes the Elyan Haárin were specifically ordered by the Oligarch to infiltrate Karistos. Exterior believes Karistos is a preliminary step in Morden nìRau Cèel’s plan to weaken Commonwealth defenses from the outside in.”
“By Exterior, you mean Anais Ulanova.” Jani waited for Lescaux’s nod. “Anais is prejudiced where the Haárin are concerned. She believes them responsible for the death of her good friend during the idomeni civil war. She also derives a substantial portion of her fortune from her ownership of companies with which the Haárin are competing. It’s in her interest to stop their expansion.”
Lescaux licked his lips and tried again. “Her sole interest is in protecting the Elyan citizens.”
“Her sole interest is in maintaining an income stream,” Jani countered. “Family companies have worked for years to stifle competition in the colonies. That water treatment plant was built to fail so that someone could rake in exorbitant repair fees. And if fond recollection serves, any deals that the Karistos city government tried to work with unaffiliated colonial businesses were countered with veiled threats of sabotage and sudden unavailability of vital parts. The Elyan Haárin were their last resort.” She glanced at Derringer, who still looked out the window. His silence was uncharacteristic. He should have questioned her loyalty to the Commonwealth at least once by now.
“Anais’s prejudice, as you call it, against the Haárin isn’t unfounded,” Lescaux said. “She showed me evidence linking them to the death of Talitha Ebben. That was her friend’s name.”
I know all about General Ebben. A sergeant named Niall Pierce killed her and two other officers during the human evac from Rauta Shèràa, and a colonel named Hiroshi Mako covered it up. Those are the bodies Mako needs to keep buried. Any investigation into Knevçet Shèràa would have uncovered them—that’s why Mako arranged to medical me out of the Service rather than risk an open trial. Niall talks to me about Ebben…a lot. That’s our shared experience, that we both killed officers. Only I paid my own bill, but Borgie paid Niall’s and the guilt eats him alive, so let’s not talk about Ebben, all right? “Let’s get back to this precis,” Jani said. “I assume it was written by an Exterior agent working in Karistos?”
“Well, we’re here.” Derringer rubbed his hands together as the skimmer docked in a secluded chargelot. “I can’t bear to keep you in suspense, Kilian, so let me cut your legs out from under you while you’re still sitting down. Your old teacher wrote that precis. His Excellency Égri nìRau Tsecha, the ambassador of the Shèrá worldskein. Only you still call him Nema because you two are such good friends.” He shot her a cruel grin. “Now, shall we go to lunch?”
Derringer’s restaurant of choice was located at the end of a tree-lined shopping street. He chose a table in the outdoor dining area; as soon as they sat down, waitstaff a
ppeared, watered, appetizered, and vanished.
“You’re awfully quiet, Jani.” Derringer’s voice, muffled by poppy seed bread and stuffed egg, sounded smug.
“Just massing my artillery.” Jani picked through the assorted baskets and plates as John’s ever-growing list of forbidden foods looped through her mind, searching for something to quell her roiling gut. She settled for a piece of flatbread; the taste lived up to the name. “If you’re looking for an initial volley, I think you’re both full of shit.”
Derringer responded with a cocked eyebrow and a nod in Lescaux’s direction. “Careful. You’ll shock young Peter.”
Jani looked at Young Peter, who stared fixedly at his water glass. “Do you have any idea the magnitude of the accusation you’re leveling?” Lescaux’s eyes, awash in full defensive smolder, came up to meet hers, but before he could answer, Derringer intercepted the conversational pass.
“It makes sense. Tsecha’s the most pro-human idomeni alive. He thinks you’re his heir, that we’re all destined to become human-idomeni hybrids, and that our futures are as one.” He broke bread, scattered crumbs. “Oligarch Cèel has had Tsecha’s delusions up to here and has started blocking him at every turn. Tsecha’s old and getting older, afraid he’ll die before his dream is realized. That fear has made him desperate enough to give us a leg up.”
The anger in Lescaux’s eyes transmuted to shocked realization. “That’s right! Anais told me that Tsecha started grooming you at the Academy. He thinks you’re to succeed him as the next chief propitiator of the Vynshàrau!”
The silence that fell held a tense, after-the-thunderclap quality. Jani studied the diners at the other tables, the flagstones at her feet, the flowering shrubs surrounding the patio. Anything to avoid the two faces that regarded her, one with distaste, the other with rapt curiosity.
Waitstaff arrived to refill and take orders. That broke the tension somewhat, even though Lescaux looked uncomfortable when Jani declined to order any food. Derringer, however, let it pass. He knew about her dietary difficulties. Their relationship being what it was, he had taken special care to bring her to a restaurant that specialized in the dairy-drenched food she could no longer stomach.
While Derringer and Lescaux devoured the creamy, cheese-laced appetizers, Jani scanned what she had already christened The Nema Letter. She placed her palm-sized scanpack over the upper left-hand corner of the document and began the slow back and forth initial analysis. She had only gone a few centimeters when her ’pack display flared red and the unit squealed so loudly that a woman sitting at the next table dropped her spoon in her soup.
“That’s what made Exterior Doc Control suspicious about the document’s origins.” Lescaux’s face reddened as the soup-spattered woman graced them with a highbred scowl. “That letter was subjected to five full-bore scans and each time, seventeen separate incompatibilities registered.”
Jani lowered the volume on her ’pack output and rescanned the same spot; this time, the device emitted a barely detectable chirp. She read the error coordinates on the display, and frowned. “Did all the inconsistencies show up in the same places each time?”
“Yes.” Lescaux fell silent as the waiter arrived with their main courses.
“Do you have a copy of your chief dexxie’s report delineating the locations and types of errors?”
“Y-yes.” Lescaux fidgeted as the waiter hovered.
“Better give it to her now, boyo. She’s going to keep asking questions until you do.” Derringer tore his attention away from his sauce-drenched steak just long enough to shoot Jani a self-satisfied smirk.
“Just doing my job, Eugene.”
“I know, Jani. And nothing kicks your overofficious ass into high gear like a professional anxiety attack.” He hacked the meat with a heavy hand, bloody juice spilling across his plate. “That’s the initiator chip that’s set your ’pack to bleating. All it does is tell your scanpack that it’s about to scan a document. It’s basic, a throwaway, a nonissue, and your ’pack can’t read it.” He shrugged off Jani’s unspoken question. “I’ve been taking a crash course in chip placement, courtesy of your good friend, Frances Hals. It’s been a pretty goddamn interesting last couple of days.”
Lescaux removed a slim packet of files from his briefbag and handed it to Jani. “Here’s our doc chief’s report, along with her affidavit that she stands by her conclusions. She’s worked for Exterior since her graduation from Chicago Combined. She has extensive colonial experience and she acted very carefully once she realized what she had.” His chin came up again. “Yes, I guess you could say we all understand the accusation we’re leveling.”
Jani unbound the packet and riffled through the documents until she found the chief’s report. So, Roni McGaw, you think you know from idomeni paper. She read the first few lines. “McGaw’s basing her conclusion that this document is of idomeni origin on the fact that she and her staff can’t read a few chips.” She read further. “There’s no discussion here of prescan testing of any of the ’packs, no record of paper analysis stating whether it’s of human or idomeni origin, no mention of the conditions under which the documents were stored and transported or whether they were stressed by temperature or humidity extremes—”
“You’re grasping at straws, Kilian,” Derringer snapped.
“You realize that this level of subterfuge is alien to the idomeni mind-set?” Jani directed her attention at Lescaux, knowing Derringer a lost cause. “They despise lies and secrecy more than the crimes they’re meant to cover up. That’s why they accept me despite the fact that I was the first human to ever kill any of them in one of their wars, because no one ever tried to hide the fact that I had done it. That’s why they refuse to acknowledge Gisela Detmers-Neumann and the other descendants of the instigators of Knevçet Shèràa, because they’ve denied to this day that Rikart Neumann and his co-conspirators did anything wrong.”
“Human experimentation.” Lescaux looked down at his own rare steak, and nudged the plate aside.
“Rikart and crew couldn’t have arranged any experimentation without Laumrau participation.” Derringer took a sip from his water glass and grimaced as though he longed for wine. “Seems to me they took to secrecy and subterfuge rather well.”
“And they paid for it during the Night of the Blade. What was the last estimate you heard of the number of Laumrau who were executed that night? Twenty-five thousand? Fifty thousand? An entire sect, wiped out within hours.” Jani pushed her chair away from the table and the stench of charred meat, the sight of blood, the memories of that final terrifying dash through the city. “That’s how the born-sect idomeni punish secrecy and lies among their own. Does this give you some idea of how they would punish Nema if they discovered he had perpetrated such a deception, and do you believe for even a fraction of a second that Nema doesn’t realize that?”
Derringer pointed his steak knife at her. “Spies have always risked death. It’s part of the job description.”
“You’re basing your conclusions on human behavior. You’ve made that mistake before and damn it, you just won’t learn!” Jani returned the chief’s report to its slipcase. “The Elyan Haárin are outcast of Sìah and hard-headed as they come. They never had a great deal of patience with either Nema’s plan for the universe or Cèel’s distrust of us. They do, however, possess a deep and abiding respect for a signed contract. Karistos needs Haárin technology, and the Family-affiliated businesses are worried enough to try to upset the deal by defaming Nema. It all boils down to money, gentlemen, and it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than one jazzed precis to convince me otherwise.”
“Jazzed?” Lescaux’s face flushed. “You mean faked, don’t you? If you’re saying that Her Excellency—”
Jani held up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m not saying who, Peter. I’m just saying what.” She picked up The Nema Letter. “This arrived, I assume, with the rest of the contract documents in the regular diplomatic pouch from Karistos?”
/> Derringer bit down on a breadstick—it crunched like brittle bone. “Yes.”
“Did any of the other docs in the pouch show the same faults? McGaw’s report doesn’t mention supplementary testing.”
Lescaux hesitated just an instant too long. “No.”
Jani nodded as though she believed him. You didn’t check. You found one anomaly and ran barking to Derringer, who got so jacked about the prospect of placing a mole in the idomeni embassy that he didn’t run any confirmation either. “To prove definitively that this document is what you claim, you’d need an idomeni to scan it with their scanpack and prove the chips aren’t simply damaged or faulty.”
Derringer shook his head. “We don’t want any of them to even know this exists. Couldn’t you just load an idomeni chip in your unit?”
It was Jani’s turn to respond in the negative. “Chips are designed to operate in unison with the thought processes of the brain matter that drives the ’pack. Idomeni brains and human brains function differently in several key areas. An idomeni chip wouldn’t work in a human scanpack.”
“Not even yours?” Derringer didn’t quite manage to keep the slyness out of his voice.
This time, Jani counted all the way to ten. “The brain between my ears may change over time. The brain in this”—she held her ’pack up to his face—“is a self-contained unit—it won’t change unless I do a refarm-rebuild.”
“I suppose I could have our labs analyze the chips.” Lescaux’s voice sounded tight—the accusation that he peddled a fake document still rankled.
Jani waved him off. “This is a diplomatic-grade document. Therefore, if you attempt to remove the chips from the paper or try to analyze them with anything other than a scanpack, they will self-destruct. The only way you will ever know for sure if an idomeni assembled this document would be to get one of the embassy examiners to scan it.”
“I thought you could just ask he who wrote it.” Derringer plucked another breadstick out of the basket and snapped it in two. “During our embassy visit today, just before you ask him whether there are any other useful tidbits of information he thinks we should know.”
Law of Survival Page 5
