"How are you doing?" Branden asked, sounding concerned. He needed a shave, and looked bizarre in his prison uniform, but had retained his usual disciplined bearing.
"Not bad. Food could be better. You?"
"I'm just happy to be straightening this out at last."
"That remains to be seen, Seven," the woman pronounced. To me, she said, "I am CPS08 Amanda Kesselior. Corporate Security Counter-Espionage. We are aboard Caesar's Palace. You and your group have put me in a very irritating position, Mr. Dosantos."
"Have we? Sorry."
She seemed to doubt my words, and turned to Branden.
"Seven, you are very lucky that a secure memo arrived today from the Board of Directors mentioning you and your work here. I have no idea what to do with you at the moment."
"Letting us go is a good start."
"That can be arranged...but what will you do then? I'm under strict instructions from CPS09 Admiral Maelbrott to handle all security investigations for this project. Do you understand that? Team is in charge here, not Admin."
"My instructions come directly from CPM10 Farlington...you didn't hear that name," he added to me, as an aside, "...who outranks Nine Maelbrott in the Company hierarchy. Team is in charge because Admin says so. Admin also says that I and my own squad -- of which, only Ejoq now remains -- are to continue our work. It was supposed to be undercover, but I'll settle for independent."
"Oh you will?! That is wholly unacceptable to this command, Seven! You will cease and desist your investigative efforts immediately! You will turn over all your case work, you will reveal all your sources and leads, and you will explain, in full, each and every one of your theories and investigative strategies. Am I clear?"
"No, ma'am," he replied, looking clamlike.
This took her aback, and she said nothing for a moment. She looked at me, as if to launch the same order. I just pointed at Branden and nodded.
"I'm one step away from locking you both up permanantly," she warned, sounding incredulous that her threats and authority were being ignored. "I'll ship you off to a prison so well-hidden, it doesn't even have a name. Is that what you want?"
"Of course not," the Seven replied, "but you aren't going to do that. Have you informed Admiral Maelbrott as to what's happening here?"
"I'm...still waiting on his orders, but, you better believe he's not going to kowtow to some civvie boardroom joker, playing spy-master!"
"He'll be replaced out here if he doesn't...that's what I believe."
Apparently Admiral Maelbrott believed that, too, because, much to CPS08 Kesselior's shock and chagrin, she received a comm call not ten minutes later, while she was delivering another ineffectual dressing down. She was ordered to release us immediately, and drop all investigations into our backgrounds and actions upon the station. This was a relief, obviously, but mostly because I didn't think my false Corporatespace itinerary would hold up under much scrutiny. Shady Lady's Sensor Specialists made it look like I'd traveled here through normal means, but a few direct inquires and requests for confirmation from civilian passenger liners would blow that fairy tale sky high.
She explained her orders calmly and completely, somehow holding in her anger. But when we got up to leave, she raised a single vibrating index finger.
"Just so you don't misunderstand me from this point on, gentlemen...I despise the thought of another intelligence unit operating on this station which is not under my direct control. You're right -- you have the backing of some powerful people. But the degree of cooperation you will enjoy from this office going forward will reflect my feelings on this point. I strongly urge you to cultivate self-reliance."
I was given my clothes and personal belongings back, and had my retinals and boncons unlocked. Branden had to have a vid conference with CPS09 Admiral Maelbrott himself, and would return to the station later. He also wanted to try and smooth things a little with Amanda Kesselior. I wished him luck. I got a shuttle ride back to Mylag Vernier, and was told not to say anything about anything to anyone.
My first action, once aboard, was to head back over to my favorite coffee kiosk and grab a cappuccino, which I drank slowly. I wasn't sending any messages: that silly game was over. No, the coffee they'd served in the brig had been the standard powdered stuff, and I'd gotten spoiled by the fresh brew from this place. I sat at one of the alfresco tables, sipping slowly, watching traffic roll by. It was like my arrest and detainment had never happened.
I called Dieter. He picked up immediately, and, from the background imagery, I could tell he was up on Shady Lady in the Common Room.
"Is this secure?" he asked off to the side, and got a reply I couldn't hear. "Good, we can talk. Ejoq, I bugged-out as soon as I learned you were arrested! John and Stinna picked it up on station chatter, and called me. What happened?"
"SpecSign stuff. They caught on to Branden and me. That end of things is still playing out. Otherwise, we're all ship-shape."
He looked relieved to hear that, but also puzzled, though his follow-on commentary didn't pursue the topic.
"Our friends up here put in a retroactive transfer request, and local termination notice for me, so it looks like I actually quit a while ago. I called everyone who needed to hear about it, and acted like I'd told them all about it weeks back and they simply forgot. I don't think any of them bought it, but I don't think they cared, either. What about you?"
"I don't know yet. Speaking of our friends, how are they?"
"Relieved to hear from you. By the way, I didn't get a chance to pick up the parts for your block-and-tackle. You'll need to do that, and then retrieve the main package from that storeroom."
"Exactly how?" I demanded quietly, studying the people who passed my little table. They all did so without looking my way, but that only made me nervous, because I assumed someone had to be.
"No idea, but from here on out, you're on your own -- at least until you can get the stuff to us. I'm supposed to be off the station now, so I can't risk being seen."
"Right," I sighed. "I'll think of something and get back to you. I should probably visit soon, and catch up."
"Yes, you probably should."
I closed the connection and drank my coffee, watching the crowd, just...watching the crowd.
* * *
I took a stroll over to R&D. I really needed a shower and change of clothes, but I went anyway. The guards there had me sign and verify, as usual, but didn't otherwise act as if my security status had changed. I strongly suspected that it had, but that it had also changed back.
Ghazza was off-shift, but CPS07 Floyeen Nuellan wasn't, and she came trotting out from some nook or cranny as soon as I asked a guard standing around in the big bay to call for her. The new offices still weren't done (and didn't look any different from before, though there were still a bunch of busy technicians and construction bots up there, making noise), so she motioned me over to the big conference room.
A GenDis meeting was going on in there, which neither of us were authorized to attend, so we went back to the dark corner where Weaponry was set up. A couple of the Team officers in our Sub-D were busy working on a blueprint file, so we finally just retreated off to one side. I was laughing mirthlessly about all this by the time she started whispering.
"Three days ago, Indya Parqua called me up in the middle of the night to say that you'd been arrested, though she didn't know why! Thirty minutes ago, she calls again, saying it was a mistake, and to just forget it. She told me this comes from Admiral Maelbrott, himself! Ejoq, who are you?"
"A man just barely treading water," I muttered, shaking my head. "I can't talk about it, but I'm sure you expected that. I don't know if Ghazza needs to be woken up for this, but if you could let her know...?"
"Already done. She hadn't left this place in days. I had to yell at her to go home. I left a message on her service. This...what ever this is...it isn't settling down, is it?"
"Certainly not for me. This isn't my shift, Seven, but I need to do something. I
won't sleep, and I don't want to think about anything involving people. I was really close to quitting R&D a few days ago, but I've had a chance to think it through. Maybe I can help those guys with the schematic?"
"They could use it," she replied, sadly, then laughed -- a thing wholly unexpected; she had a donkey bray, and immediately covered her mouth in embarrassment. For my part, I began to think of her as human for the first time. So much so, in fact, it snapped me out of my own funk. Suddenly, I was happy to be at work....happy to be somewhere someone really wanted me to be. Only one someone, maybe, but it was enough. I'd take it.
The Fleetie kids puzzling over their diagram weren't prepared to celebrate my return when Floy and I went back there. It was understandable: this was a plumb assignment, and it only took a little standing-out to secure a promotion.
Instead, they loitered and watched me find no less than five integration trouble spots where they had seen none, and come up with no less than five technical solutions.
"...that's a power harmonic issue...see the spike? Pass that to the AI..."
"...looks like a library problem -- just update the particle fractal profiles, and it should be green across the board..."
"...earmark this for Hull Design, and drop it in their mailbox. Don't shake your head! Where are you going to put the missile caps? There's no room with this strut in the way..."
In point of fact, I showed them up more than five times, and vaguely implied they were a bunch of knuckleheads. It was more than five times that I tried very hard to believe that this kind of work was why I was really there.
Seven Nuellan stayed with us for a while, until she decided to go fight with Hull Design in person about my strut observation, rather than let them ignore their Inbox, as they were wont to do. She didn't expect to be back soon. After another hour or so, I decided to call it quits, and just a left a message on her service to say I was leaving. The other members of Weaponry seemed puzzled by -- and resentful of -- my wandering ways, but they weren't in charge of me, and they certainly didn't want me there, so I ignored the looks and grumbles, and just waved goodbye.
I had more-or-less forgotten Jake Hammerhülse existed, until he stopped me in my retreat. I don't know where he came from, but he pointed me over to his own office (which had escaped the remodeling requirement, somehow), and we both converged on it.
"Heard you had some trouble with Team," he grunted, stepping through and closing the door.
"It was a misunderstanding."
"What about?"
"I can't say."
"Can't or won't?"
He sat back in his well-worn chair, which creaked alarmingly.
"Can't and won't. I know you're my boss, Jacob, but this is none of your business. Sorry."
"Maybe I should make it my business," he snapped, though his voice didn't rise at all. He had little piggy eyes, and a broad face that was begging for someone tougher than me to punch it.
"I don't care what you do, at this stage," I replied off-handedly, starting to leave.
"What'd you say to me?!" he demanded, finally letting some volume loose, and standing up, face going red with apparent fury.
I walked back slowly.
"I could have your Cross-Border Pass invalidated, Dosantos! I could have you kicked out of this system, and right out of Corporatespace, and..."
He stopped his rant in shock, because I had placed a hand on his forearm very gently, and leaned in close to his face.
"This is absolutely not the day to push me, Jake."
I said it in a whisper, eyes locked on his. He didn't speak another word, nor even modify his stunned, porcine expression.
After a moment, I smiled without any warmth, wished him goodshift without any conviction, and left R&D without any delay.
Barney was flabbergasted when I walked through the door of the apartment.
"Ejoq! They told me you'd been arrested! They questioned me for hours!"
"Yeah. Sorry about that. It was just a mistake on their part."
He'd gotten home from work only a little while before, and was already in his Vipers uniform. I commented on it.
"We have a game tonight. Come and cheer us on from the pub -- they'll have it streaming. You can tell me what happened on the way."
The idea of the pub was attractive, even though awkwardness, centering around Laydin, was likely. That was no different than any other aspect of life...of my life, specifically, so there was no sense in hesitating. I was a spy, several times over; a thoughtless heel to someone who had shown interest; a primadonna among my peers. I was good at what I did, and didn't care who cared about that.
So I went to the pub.
Laydin was on duty, and gave me the cold shoulder. I had a shot and beer.
My arrest had been the subject of gossip, and they tried to pump me for info, then promptly dropped it when I said I couldn't say anything. They were trained well: you couldn't work and live in such a place and not be. Corporate would fire you fast. It would ship you right out of the system, and it would sue you to extinction.
I wasn't so well-trained, perhaps, but I could fake it.
Sometimes.
For a while.
But my while was drawing to a close...and I knew it.
* * *
John and Stinna made up some credentials I could use in order to pick up the pulleys at the shipping office, up on the Hub, which was where they were languishing at the moment. The two Specialists injected the appropriate permissions and IDent data into the system, and it just went smoothly. The parts were in a bundle, and made of high-stress plastic. They were very light. There was a braided polymer rope for it in another bundle that was surprisingly heavy. Dieter told me the minimum order for this cable had been a hundred meters. We only needed fifteen, at most.
I figured he required time to assemble the thing, and make some sort of attachment for it inside the vent shaft, so I just brought it up to him the next night, after work. John and Stinna had somehow tapped in to the station's entire sensor system (they were, after all, computer experts with lots of time on their hands). They were monitoring the companionway remotely. They also popped the lock on the maintenance closet when I was near. I waited for a few people to walk by, then entered as usual, bringing my bundles.
A pressure suit was in the shaft, as always, and in a few minutes, I stepped aboard Shady Lady like I was coming back home.
Except that the place smelled bad now: a vague scent of rotten food and unwashed people. Bottles and packaging, as well as half-full take-out containers, were scattered around haphazardly. John wore the same jumpsuit as always, but it looked like he hadn't washed it the whole time we'd been here. That had been my job, prior to going aboard the station, since I was the only one with steward training, and apparently the tiny clothes washer was way too complex for him to tackle. Stinna sat slouching in her chair at the table in just her underwear and a sweat-stained tanktop. Her hair was a greasy-looking rat's nest. She stared blankly when I arrived and greeted everyone, but didn't return even this much civility. If her characteristic obtuseness had been a sign of other underlying personality or mental problems, the confinement here had allowed them to truly blossom.
Chris, by contrast, looked clean and fit, as per his usual, though he'd let his beard come in. He looked like a stranger. Also, as usual, he bore a quashed, but still-distinctive measure of hostility towards me.
Mavis' bed was closed up, and the freeze controls were active.
Dieter came out from Engineering in a dirty jumper of his own, though it was covered in recent lubricant and electronic fluid stains -- sure indications that he was busy working and not sitting around in a hyper-focused funk. I gave him the block-and-tackle parts, and he got started with them right away. The wheels and ratchets inside the primitive system's two cases snapped together easily (Dieter had designed them that way), but the threading for the cable was a definite puzzle. For the longest time, we couldn't figure out how the lines were supposed to be run thr
ough it.
Eventually, Stinna did a library search without any comment, and brought up an ancient diagram of this exact process, which proved invaluable. John only complained that she had covered part of a window for an important program he was working with (though it looked to me like he was playing a vid game).
SS2 said nothing, and just dismissed the diagram with a quick wave in the air when they finally had the cable laced through the blocks correctly, thereby forming the tackle.
Up close, I could see that her eyes were bloodshot, and could tell that at least some of the odor in the place was definitely hers.
"We have to get out of here," I stated flatly, as if this hadn't occurred to anyone.
"I'm working on it, thank you..." the engineer replied, winding the extra cable up by hand.
"Yes," Chris added, his back to me, "some people are working on it."
"Hey, I spent two days in a brig on Caesar's Palace," I returned. "I count that as dues paid."
"They let you go," the Mission Leader said, with a sidelong glance over his shoulder.
"Yes, they let me go. They got confirmation that I was with SpecSign. Believe me, they were pissed-off."
Christmas laughed.
"People mad at you? That has to be one of the normal states of the universe."
"Don't start with me! No one wants to be here. You can file a scathing report on my actions just as soon as we get back."
"I've been working on that for weeks now. It has an itemized list! I just update it whenever you do something ridiculous."
"Fine," I replied, sounding, I'm sure, like I didn't care -- because, really, I didn't. "Dieter, when do you think this thing will be ready?" I added, waving at the complex pulley.
"Well, I'll need to mount it to the shaft."
"How will you get the parts into the ship once you've hauled them up?"
"The package is bulky, but it's made up of many parts. I can take it all in, piece by piece. That won't be a problem once we we're away from prying eyes. It's getting it into the closet and up the shaft where there's a risk."
Risk Analysis (Draft 04 -- Reading Script) Page 28
