"Ghaz," I spoke into my ring, video off, "I'm going to be late."
"You're already late. Having two jobs -- even important ones -- doesn't let you slack off."
"I'm not slacking!"
"Then this is a priority issue, I presume?"
"Where's this coming from?" I demanded, because her tone was frosty. "You knew I might need some flex time when all this started. And, anyway I've put in a full week's work already, and we're only four days in to this one!"
"I don't like your tone, Mr. Dosantos. I think we're going to have a little talk when you do decide to to make an appearance."
Ah.
Now it sunk in.
"Okay, I understand," I told her, after a moment, feeling more contrite.
"I thought you would. I expect you here as soon as possible, am I clear to you?"
"You are. I'll see you soon."
I cut the line, then looked up at Stinna, who was picking her nose.
"Can you run a trace on the metadata of that call? Was it tapped?"
"They can all be tapped," she supplied.
"I know that. But, was it being listened to in real time?"
She raised her eyebrows, because, apparently, the thought of doing anything live, as opposed to time-shifting events and data, was novel to her. She called up a directory of communications bearing an icon of my face. I immediately lost track of what followed, with screens popping up, and getting dismissed in the same moment. Long streams of data flashed by, barely registering in the air above the table. She looked a little less blank for a moment there, too.
"You were right. It was."
That was all she gave out, except for a plainly frank look.
"Okay...um, any idea who it might have been?"
"Team. It was piped over to that Caesar's Palace station."
"Could they have traced us?"
"To here? No."
John laughed out loud at that. Stinna looked at him like she'd been looking at me.
Eventually, the maintenance guys cleared out, with arm-loads of cleaning products and a line-steamer for scrubbing conduits. Watching them over our feed from the station sensors outside the closet, I sympathized: I always hated that job whenever I had maintenance positions on ships and stations. Dirty, wet, and smelly. Kind of like Shady Lady these days.
"Call me if you need anything else," I told Dieter over comm, because he'd returned to work. He assured me he would.
I brought all the bags of trash outside the ship with me, and found an especially dark corner within the dark patch the ship was parked, where I could stow them. They would freeze in the perma-shadow, out of sight and out of the way.
I'd arranged with John for a feed to my retinals from the sensors around the closet. I monitored it closely as I descended, and then changed out of the pressure suit. It was all clear.
I was just opening the door when Stinna jumped into my feed, popping up right in the center of my eye-view, too large to see around, and obscuring everything.
"I just got a hit on that sensor log check for people following you."
"What, now? Where? I can't see."
I adjusted the commring a bit, shrinking her head and pushing it off to the side.
I looked left. There was no one approaching.
I looked right, and a skinny bald guy was walking directly toward me.
"To your right. He was behind you this morning."
The man was dressed like a mechanic or technician. He drew something from a front pocket as I watched him approach. I was open-mouthed, and totally surprised.
His hand came up. The weapon in it was small and covered in technician's tape.
It was one of those moments that slowed the world, and I made to move away, to drop to the deck, to run, run, run. Yet I really didn't do anything but stand there.
And then the elbow of the man's gun hand made a popping sound as it flew apart, all red and torn. He cried out, falling forward to his knees. The modified stunner skittered right to my feet, and I scrabbled for it.
People were there then, appearing from nowhere and everywhere, grabbing the man, restraining him, gagging him, already hustling him to his feet, and away. They wore blue jumpsuits, the like of which Station Maintenance used.
"Are you shot?" Stinna asked, as if she was asking about something else -- about anything else. I cut the feed with a pinky touch to the ring.
A big man, dressed like the others, stepped over and gently took the stunner from my hand.
"Um...thanks," I offered, shocked, but very much meaning it.
"No problem," Barney replied, with his papa bear smile.
* * *
"Station Security?" I repeated, as my roommate and I hustled through some narrow service companionways I was completely unfamiliar with. "But...I thought StaSec was dissolved."
"So does Team," he replied over his round shoulder. Without even looking he ducked under a low-hanging conduit. "Watch your head. StaSec kept undercover detectives on a different ledger from uniform officers, and my Seven managed to deep-six it before the succeeding Team Offs came aboard. Those of us in undercover operations all had legends and legitimate jobs as cover -- mostly in non-critical positions that didn't see too much shake-up -- so we just stayed on."
"But why?"
"We had gathered evidence that there was a ring of foreign operatives in play."
"Didn't you tell Team?"
"Of course we did. My Seven did, anyway. They also got all our reports and research."
"And what happened?" I asked, stepping over a low, steaming pipe that look hot to the touch.
"Nothing. They didn't even comment on it. At least, that's what I was told before all Station Security personnel they knew about, officers and civilian employees alike, were out-systemed."
"And you were watching me all along?"
"Ever since you came aboard, yeah. That was my assignment: to stay close, in case you weren't what you seemed. That would have changed eventually, since there were so few of us left, and we needed to move in on the ring...but by then, I was pretty sure there really was more to you than met the eye."
"What do you mean?"
"Please, Ejoq, no more of that stuff. No more lies. We've been following you, and found out about the fire vent in the closet. Then we spotted the ship in the shadows up there."
My heart was pounding, both from the fast pace, and from his words.
"I'm not a spy, Barney."
"Oh, I know that now. But you're not just a gunner, either."
"I am! It's what I was hired to do."
He stopped and turned so suddenly, I ran into him. It was like bouncing off a padded wall.
"We've got enough on you now to tip off Team, and have you and your partners well and truly hung out to dry. So, tell me the truth. Who do you work for?"
"United Humanity," I puffed, leaning over. It felt almost like another panic attack. "We were sent here to look into a possible treaty violation. There's not supposed to be any military build-ups in this system."
Whatever it was Barney had been expecting, this certainly was not it. He stared at me with a wrinkled brow and plain confusion on his broad, dark face.
"UH? You can prove that? You have a copy of the contract?"
"Up on the ship, yes, of course we do. With its reference number, you can contact the nearest UH office and get confirmation."
His face was unchanged, even while he looked to the side, deep in thought.
"That would require someone with clearance to send and receive classified messages out-system, and we'd want someone other than you. But, you say that you're actually here...legally?"
"I'm not a spy," I repeated. "I mean, I am, but...yes, it's all legal. The Handshake is in violation of The Javelina Reduction Agreement, just by having a major military presence here. And by the terms of that treaty, AINspace is allowed to send covert verification officers to any place where there's a suspected violation."
"That's you?"
"No, I'm
just crew. That's a couple people aboard the ship right now. One in particular, really."
His eyes had narrowed as he listened.
"You didn't need to come aboard Mylag Vernier to verify any treaty."
"No, but do you want to hear that story right now? Because, it's a long one."
"You better give me something, or my partners will take it."
"Oh, but not you?" I asked, feeling the smart-mouth in me bristling. "Good ol' Barney Carsons won't interrogate his pal? His smackball teammate?"
"What do you think we're doing right now, Ejoq? This is an interrogation. At this very moment, that guy who tried to kill you is sitting in a very bright room that neither Team nor Admin know anything about, wires all stuck to his head. We have someone on tap who can pattern a brain and make it sing. I don't want that for you. It's invasive, and can even cause brain damage. If what you're saying is true, it shouldn't be necessary. It's your choice -- play the victim, or play the professional, but you're in the game either way."
This was a side of my roommate I'd never suspected, which was unsurprising, considering the circumstances...but he was suddenly a stranger, and I didn't trust strangers. He was both good cop and bad cop; it was off-putting. Instinctively, I wanted to refuse. I wanted to cut and run back through this service corridor, out of his reach, out of his presence. But he was much bigger than me, faster too (which I'd seen on the court), likely armed, and ready for anything. Besides, if he and his pals really knew about Shady Lady, then I had nowhere to go.
The NDA's I'd signed with United Humanity, Inc. and the other groups didn't legally apply if there were physical threats made to my person. Veiled or no, friend or no, the kind of mind-charting Barney described sounded mighty threatening.
So I told him what had happened since we jumped in-system. I told him I had been the one to destroy Jaybird, which made him raise his eyebrows, though he didn't interrupt. I told him why we had to sneak aboard the station, and what we were up to. I told how I'd gotten into Admin Security, and from there, R&D. I told him everything. Well, nearly so: I spoke on what had happened, not what I thought was coming.
He never butted in, and only asked a few questions to clarify which players I was talking about. He made no notes, which meant he was recording it. And if we were doing this here, then it meant this narrow, hot companionway wasn't being monitored by anyone -- not Team, certainly not Admin Security, and probably not even John or Stinna. This was a place where anything could be said, and anything could happen.
"So who's this guy who tried to kill you?" he asked after a bit, when I'd run out of things to say.
"I'm guessing you already know -- or think you do."
"We're not talking about me."
I nodded. He made it seem simple: I either took the plunge, or I didn't. I either continued to play with him, or not. I either worked with Barney the undercover cop, or I got worked over by him.
"I think he's out of Churchspace."
He gave me a completely confused look, so I went on.
"The operative that Team took down in Spoke Plaza -- do you know who that was?"
"We haven't heard the details."
"It was Laydin, from the pub."
"What? The barmaid? You're kidding!"
"I wish I was. She got close to me because I worked in R&D. Then she pushed me away when she realized I had nothing for her -- Weaponry isn't the hot new thing. Once Team came aboard, they closed access to the other Sub-D's, so I couldn't even steal anything for her if I wanted to."
He accepted that as sensible, but then looked me up and down.
"You came out of Spoke Plaza smelling like roses."
"A good man had half his head blown off," I snapped. "He'll never be the same. But Laydin had been sending out covert messages to another stealthship in-system. I have reason to believe the code they were using is Papal in origin."
"They're a long way from home, if that's true."
"This tech is worth the trip. In fact, it appears to be an open secret in the spy world. You know we weren't really mugged that night, right? They wanted my wristcomp."
"That was how they wanted it to look, yeah."
Now it was my turn to be confused.
"What else were they after?"
"My dad's necklace. Except I never had a dad -- my mom used a sperm bank. That was really a High-Classification Molecular Key, just like the old two-step verification cards, before Team took over. Undercover StaSec investigators use them -- or did use them -- to access different parts of the station without drawing attention."
"But why would anybody want it? The new security protocols...oh, that's right."
"Yeah, Team had just arrived. They hadn't gotten anything in place yet. Whoever it was must have smelled changes on the wind and panicked; they had to move fast."
"Okay, but again: why? What were they after? What kind of access did you have with that?"
He looked to the floor, deep in thought, then glanced up at me with very critical eyes.
"Can I trust you?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?"
"Tell me I can trust you. Then tell me why. Because I believe we need your help, but my partners will not be convinced without a compelling reason."
"Okay then. Yes, you can trust me. My captain up on the ship is in dire need of a cybernetics expert. If you're doing advanced brain patterning, then you've got one. She's stable, but in bad shape. Help her, and I'll help you."
"What about your crewmates? Can you speak for them?"
"Nope, but I'll do it anyway. They're used to it."
He thought that over, then held out his hand, and we actually shook on it.
"Okay then, here it is," he began. "StaSec regs sometimes got in the way of the job. I had a cryptographic engineer put the necklace together, kind of...well, off the books. It could open every door on the station."
"Well that wasn't a security risk at all!" I laughed, and he looked hurt. "You handed someone the literal keys to the kingdom, Barney! Forget anything I did, or anything you think I did -- that was probably the endgame right there. Whatever they were after, they got it that very night."
"But nothing went missing! Team did thorough inventories of each department, and audits of all restricted access points. There weren't any red flags."
I'd read the reports, too. Those investigations revealed no irregularities. Some in Team had found that fact reassuring. Others had been annoyed.
"Someone wanted it for a reason," was all I offered, then held open my hands, expectantly. "Well...?"
"Well...I guess we can work together. You'll need to say all this again, to my partners."
"I'm fine with that, but right now I'm late for work. Something is up in R&D that my supervisor didn't want to talk about over comm. I was supposed to go right in. She's probably sick with worry by now."
"Sounds like a friend, not a boss," he replied comfortably.
"Yeah, it does," I agreed uncomfortably. "I'll see you later, back home."
"We can't talk there," he countered. "Team has an AI on you, watching, listening in."
"Yeah, they think they do."
I smiled.
He smiled back, wonderingly. After this, he led me to an exit door on one side. It was to a circuit room, which, in turn, led to the back of a shoe store on Centerline Avenue. We parted ways thereafter.
I went directly to work, though I could have used a shower and change of clothes. (And a nap.) I'd turned off the ring while talking to Barney, and all three of my bosses, as well as someone from HR, had called in the meantime.
I didn't take two steps inside the place when Jake shanghaied me. He pointed to his office.
"Where've you been?!"
"AdSec business. Couldn't be helped. What's up?"
"Hull Design wants to take over all the other Sub-D's. They sited you as a prime reason: they think Weaponry is compromised by outside interests. Since it's technically just one part of the Integrated Systems Collective, they have to take
'em all to get at it. If they do, they can hire and fire anybody they want. See what you've done?!"
"Where are Ghaz and Floy?"
"Am I their secretary? We waited for you with Bree Burdot -- he heads up HD. That's when Ghazza first called you. When he got sick of waiting, we waited some more. Still you don't show! Some of us have work to do! We can't all float around like butterflies."
He wasn't easily ignorable when he was like this, but I tried.
"Hey! Where you are going?!" he shouted when I turned to leave, already dialing Ghazza. I just got an automated response saying she was in a meeting. A call to Floy got her on the line, but she was on the other side of the station, waiting to see a superior officer, and couldn't talk just then.
"This is how they get rid of me," I told her, quickly.
"I know. I'm working on it."
Then she had to go.
Jake was still following at a distance, barking, so I called the Life Support Sub-D with my ring, which was the next office over from Weaponry. I said I was with Team, and asked if they'd seen CPM06 Jacob Hammerhülse anywhere, as he wasn't in his office. Jake had just stomped by their door, grousing loudly, so a short man with wild hair dashed out, and waved him back, speaking quickly. My boss went in to get the call, but I'd already hung up. That would buy a few minutes, while he was tracking down who had wanted him, and why they hadn't just called directly.
I walked over to the large security hatch to Hull Design, and had the guards run an IDent scan, so they could see my AdSec creds. They seemed impressed, but it was, nonetheless, inadequate to get in without permission from someone of authority inside. I gave them Bree Burdot's name. One of them stepped off a few paces and spoke quietly into his collarmic, then turned back around.
"I'm sorry, sir, but you're still not authorized."
"That's okay. You'll make a note that I tried, though, and who I asked for?"
"Yes sir, that's SOP."
"Good. Do your reports get processed on the fly? Can I make reference to it right away?"
He assured me that they do, and I could, and even gave me the Incident Number for my own records. Team was very efficient.
Risk Analysis (Draft 04 -- Reading Script) Page 37
