"I'm sorry," I said, ignoring his tone of voice, "but I can barely see you over there. Could you adjust your overhead a bit?"
I smiled in a friendly way. He seemed put out for half-a-second.
The man touched his local controls and slowly became discernible. He had a narrow face and brown skin. His head was shaved. An unremarkable guy, really.
The admiral was smiling now too, though it didn't look especially friendly. Whether that was over me, or over Shadowman, I couldn't tell.
OOOOOOOOOO
twenty-eight
* * *
My suggestion to chat over a couple of drinks at the pub was turned down with a smirk. (Worth a try.)
"Aren't you afraid of being spotted?"
"A little. But John and Stinna's program for detecting people following you works out right now: they had to whitelist me, since we met on a regular basis, here on-station. And if you try calling them, even on the sly, I'll know." He opened up his white lab coat, motioning to one of the devices on his belt. It had a little blinking blue light. "We're invisible men, Ejoq."
"What do you want?" I asked. "There's no way for me to get you off the station."
"That's not it."
I was supposed to inquire what he was after, so I didn't. He just stood there, looking proper in his lab coat, appearing half-distracted in his perpetual hangover. I knew he wasn't.
And his hand never came out of his pocket.
"You're with Churchspace?" I queried, after a moment.
"Frankly, I didn't know, myself, who the client was, until Stinna found that pattern in the code. It makes sense, though."
"I assume you haven't gotten what you came for, or you'd have left already."
"It's not that simple," he replied, looking thoughtful. "Getting stranded here was on no one's agenda. I had to improvise."
"The damage to the ship was false, then?"
"No, it was real. Well, not to starjump, maybe, I did lie about that. But we were hit in the fight. All fixed now. You're welcome."
"Mavis took a look, and says you've stranded us here."
"It's nothing that can't be put right. A few parts from General Store. I suspect you have the technical know-how, yourself, to install them. How is the captain, by the way?"
"Awake and angry. You could have killed her. I had to break protocol to get her out of that, so I'm probably in violation of my UH contract. You have a lot to explain."
"Not today. And certainly not to you, Ejoq."
I shook my head, feeling frustration rise up.
"Why try to kill me?"
"I don't intend to kill..."
"Not now," I interrupted. "The shooter in the car -- Laydin, I presume? And that skinny guy the other day. What would it get you?"
"Those weren't my decisions," he said, defensively.
"When she came at me, I was being shadowed by Branden Ursga. I didn't have another tail, he was sure of it. Yet Laydin knew what neighborhood I was in. She must driven around until she saw me walking. Dieter, you were the only other person I told where I was that night. We had just talked on the comm, remember?"
He seemed to consider that, then shrugged.
"You were a problem."
"A lot of people have said that to me who never resorted to homicide."
"John and Stinna could detect and record coded signals all they wanted," he commented, almost off-handedly, as if it didn't matter anymore (which, I guess it didn't), "Shady Lady was in no position to interfere. You and your AdSec partner? Well, that was a different story. And you did shut down that part of the operation. Laydin dead. The other ship dead. I was right to be worried."
"Okay. Then why attack me outside the closet? The damage was already done. You don't seem like the revenge type."
His half-lidded hang-over eyes couldn't narrow any further without closing completely, but he took on an expression of embarrassment nonetheless.
He glanced at something he wore on his belt.
"I try not to be petty, but Laydin was that man's partner. I think he loved her or something. She'd been sleeping with you. She died because of you. He had a lot of hate in him, Ejoq."
I nodded in understanding.
"Look, you're playing for time, admirably," he admitted, and motioned with his pocket, "but I don't have it to waste."
"Then what's this about?"
"I want you to sign for a package delivery. It will be arriving at the jump point via courier in approximately four hours, and it's addressed to you. You'll get a verification message, requiring a reply. I need you to pull your Admin Security rank to keep it from being searched or scanned."
"Firstly, I doubt I have that kind of influence. Secondly, it'll still take a week to get here on fast transit. And thirdly, I'll have to sign for it again, before it can be brought aboard. Can you really keep me under wraps that long?"
"One thing at a time."
I raised eyebrows at that.
He couldn't keep me prisoner for a week. Even four hours was pushing it -- more than four, since radio messages took nearly twenty minutes to get here from the system's edge. He would know that, so he certainly didn't need me after that first signing. Nor could he let me talk about it afterwards.
And yet, without the second phase of confirmation, his package couldn't come aboard.
Was it, then, meant for confederates, still hidden out in orbit somewhere? Would the courier get hijacked as it approached?
No.
Piracy in a star system that had dozens of military vessels on patrol was a literal impossibility. Liquidator alone could pick off any target along that route, and other ships stood guard near the jump point. Even stealth tech was no guarantee now, since Team was on the lookout for it, and would certainly be watching the proximity of any vessels in motion -- even authorized ones. The transport would be safe throughout it's entire run, accordingly.
So the package couldn't be stolen...
It would come here, yet I probably wouldn't be around to accept delivery...
Which meant it only needed to get close.
"Why destroy the station?" I asked quietly. If I shocked him with my sparkling insight, he didn't show it.
"It's part of a strategy. Surely you see that much."
"I could shout," I warned him. "Right now. I could scream and draw attention to us. You'd kill me, but then this whole thing would get blown open. Team would swoop in, and investigate every centimeter of my life, every new element that they don't already know. They'd certainly stop delivery on any packages addressed to me, no matter the clearance level. Your parcel would never arrive. Is it a super-shielded nuke? An EMP device?"
"I don't know the details," he confessed. "But I do know you. You don't panic under pressure. You'll keep playing this out to the last possible moment, hoping to turn it to your advantage. And you just might, though I'm being more careful than I look right now. My time aboard this place has given a certain polish to my casual vigilance."
I chuckled.
"I like that. If I get out of this, I'm stealing it."
"With my compliments. I admire you, Ejoq. I always have. I can offer a way out, if you agree to help me."
"You know I won't."
"This is happening, with or without you -- or me. Ruin it now, and someone else will just try."
He checked one of his gadgets again.
"As you say, Dieter, one thing at a time. You might as well shoot. I'm not signing for a package. I'm not helping. And I'm not going anywhere with you."
I stood there silently, waiting for him. He waited too.
His belt beeped then, and he opened his coat to look. A little plastic box blinked green, and then amber.
"That's time," he told me. "You're right. Killing you will only draw attention. Raise your arms."
"Really? Reach for the sky, stranger? I've been mugged here already, Dieter."
I shook my head in exasperation, but he looked annoyed suddenly.
"Don't move. Don't speak. Raise your
arms over your head. Do it now."
So I did. After a moment, he told me to lower them again, and turn away from him. I did that too.
"Okay," he pronounced, after a few seconds, "start walking away. Slowly. Don't make a run for it, don't make a fuss. Clear?"
"I get to live another day?"
"As remarkable as it seems. Move, Ejoq."
I didn't look back until I was about twenty meters from that patch of relative shadow, but, of course, he was already gone.
* * *
"He trying to confuse us," Chris offered, sounding confident.
We were in the large room in back of the pub. I had gotten an account for AdSec expenses, and decided to put this get-together on it, labelling it an Inter-Departmental Strategy Meeting. If Accounting had a problem with it, they could blow it out the airlock.
"He's hiding something," John agreed, drinking his barleywine (I had recommended it, and he was grateful). Stinna said nothing. She was on her second plate of scobble, and didn't seem like she was even listening. Her hair was as wild as ever, but it looked clean now. She was wearing a short, navy blue party dress, and bright red stockings, along with make-up and strobing glow-paint on her lips. I assumed, at first, she'd bought it all on the way to the pub, but when I complemented her on it (more out of politeness -- it was a weird look), she explained that she'd brought it all with her from AINspace. That made exactly zero sense, which was perfectly normal.
"Is there anything else he might have been after?" Barney expressed, looking frustrated.
"Possibly nothing more than exactly this," I replied, before downing a shot of graino. "Sitting around, scratching our heads, instead of looking for him."
Despite my coolness during the encounter with Dieter, I was having an attack of nerves now -- a delayed reaction that I knew to be normal from previous close calls. My stomach was a knot, so the booze wasn't really a great idea. To be frank, the sight and smell of the scobble was making me nauseous, too. I mentioned this aloud, but Stinna didn't hear me. Or maybe she did, or...I don't know.
Mavis had stayed on board, partly for the same reasons she never left the ship before; partly because she didn't really feel up to it just yet; and partly because she half-expected Dieter to try and sneak aboard again. She was coldly furious with the man, but I didn't think we had worry about her killing him should he have an attack of even worse judgement than appearing before me.
John and Stinna had readjusted their search params to look for the engineer, and were quite surprised not to see him anywhere. I wasn't.
"What was the thing on his belt all about?" Barney wondered.
"A comm device, maybe?" Chris posed.
"I don't think he has anyone left to call," I replied. "He took a huge chance stopping me like that. If there was someone else who could have done it for him, I doubt he'd have broken cover."
"And just to have you sign for a package?" Chris wondered. "That's ridiculous."
He was right. It was a nonsensical action from a man who, hitherto, had displayed nothing but complete sense and precision.
"Whatever that's about," John put in thoughtfully, now quite far from the wild-eyed spoon wielder of before, "for Dieter, it's a matter of relative risk. Together we have some resources at our disposal, but they're still limited compared to what Team could throw at the problem. And he knows we can't go to them yet. We need to be in a position where his capture won't hurt us. That means stepping out of the shadows."
"How?" Chris asked, and one of Barney's people, the woman who had been present at my clandestine interview/interrogation, echoed the question. She looked to be in her mid-forties, and had a hard set to her eyes which I found unsettling -- like she just happen to be between deeds of conviction at the moment. She might have been a saint, but sure didn't look it. The extra man who had come aboard Shady Lady was present here as well, and the two of them flanked my roommate at the table.
"Here's a thought," I put in. "What if I make some noise about having been contacted by UH? I could say that they informed me they sent people clandestinely to this system -- legally -- and that, because of circumstances, they're stranded."
"Team would still arrest us," Chris observed.
"I know we have our doubts about UH, but if I also send them a message and cc it to Team, then everyone involved will have to treat it legitimately. Corporate will be angry if I reach out to UH without consulting anyone, but it'll be a fait accompli by that point. We'll have a record in the Alliance concerning Corporatespace officials knowing about Shady Lady, and we'll have a record in Corporatespace about United Humanity knowing we've broken cover. We have copies of all the agreements we signed aboard the ship, so they'll have to corroborate that they sent us here. Team will then be accountable for Shady Lady's safety. The situation goes from being a security problem, to a political one. By Treaty, Mavis doesn't have to give out any specific details regarding the mission, and the level of enthusiasm Team might normally want to use in questioning her -- or any of us -- would be curtailed."
"UH will accuse you of breaking your NDA if you let Team in on the fun," Christmas observed. "Then they'll come for the rest of us."
"Ah, but the ship is almost out of air," I replied. "It's now a life and death situation, which the Alliance Catalog Of Human Rights considers an exception to all contracts, and many laws. It's what allows civilian gunners to exist as a profession at all. Trust me: I have to sit through legal classes on this every time I renew my license."
The others thought for a bit, while I signalled the barman for another shot. I had to wave like an idiot to get his attention from the back room, but he laughed and came over with the bottle.
We all waited for him to leave.
"As for our kindly and lingering Station Security detectives," I went on, turning to Barney and his crew, "you'll be AdSec assets now, legal and above-board, just like we planned. In fact, we could get that much done tonight: sign you folks up, and turn your Mr. D'beers over to Team. How's his patterning going, anyway?"
"Looks good, I'm told," Barney replied. "We should have it working by tomorrow. Once it is, we don't need the guy anymore. I'd be happy if he was someone else's problem. Has anyone heard if a Missing Person report ever went out about a Mark D'beers? Somebody must have noticed the guy has been scarce lately."
"Yeah, he was reported missing by his co-workers two days ago," John answered. "Standard search techniques haven't turned anything up, so Team is labelling it as an open case, and scaling back their efforts. Unofficially, they seem to think he committed suicide, and took a coldwalk -- even though Pedestrian Control has no record of any unauthorized airlock openings. I can put one in, if you'd like."
"No," I said. "Once we turn him over, their mystery is solved. No sense muddying the waters."
The ex-StaSec detectives seemed intrigued about the prospect of becoming (legal) investigators again, and Barney made everyone laugh when he offered to sign up right then and there, at the table, so he wouldn't have to report to Maintenance. A big sanitation recycler was jammed up, and he was going to have to don a moonsuit, and clear it all out by hand.
I proposed drafting some documents that would outline the duties of this iteration of the station's detective force, so that they'd be in-keeping with the old ones -- at least, for the most part. The biggest issue voiced to me, though, was becoming assets of Corporate Admin. Employees of that branch were all, technically, members of management. That disallowed joining a trade union, which could have put some of the power back on our side. As it was, Admin could fire us or dissolve our unit at any time.
"It's not a perfect situation," I acknowledged, "but it's better than skulking in the shadows."
Barney said that they'd talk about it among themselves and let me know. I hoped it would be a positive outcome, because, frankly, I needed the boost. If Maelbrott and his goons saw me building a real department, and forging political contacts outside of the Montaro Corporate structure, I'd have a better standing here.
> With Shady Lady in the open, we could put Team onto Dieter. This was a thing I fervently believed had to happen, because he was up to something. He always had been, and it worried me. We'd interrupted him when we came aboard the ship like that, but the fact that he'd contacted me in such a bizarre fashion implied that he was doing something else. Or, maybe the same thing, but without his little Engineering fiefdom available, he was forced to continue whatever it was outside the ship.
"Dieter is up to something," I stated, probably for the eighteenth time.
"God, I hate when you do that," Christmas mumbled.
"He's made himself hard to find," Barney said, "but we're still looking."
"No, I mean, he's up to something right now. This very moment. Whatever it is, it required him to stop me on the street and...I don't know what. Spin a pack of lies? Why try something so transparent, and risk being seen or caught? Unless it was never about the story..."
"Okay," Barney prompted. "Then play it out. Forget his words. What else happened? What did he do, exactly?"
I had to think about that for a bit, and the others waited expectantly.
"He surprised me. He kept me standing there, out of immediate sight of traffic. He, uh..."
"He looked at a device on his belt," John offered.
"Yes. And he had me raise and then lower my hands. Then he had me walk away slowly."
I considered it. I concentrated.
So did the others.
After a full minute, I sighed in frustration. It made no sense at all!
"IDent profile," Stinna muttered. She had finished her scobble, and had been watching us. Actually she was looking at Barney. "Can I play smackball?"
"Um...sure," he replied. "What's this about IDent? You mean a fake ID?"
"Impossible!" John injected, dismissively. "The data can be stolen, and even edited, but you can't make a usable IDent profile from scratch without a licensed full-body scanner."
Risk Analysis (Draft 04 -- Reading Script) Page 42
