by Adams, P R
Quil twisted around, eyes wide. “Kozmut?”
“Or someone like him.”
“How many are like the major?”
“No one.”
Naru sauntered into the kitchen and took a beer from the refrigerator. “Who’s Kozmut? Some sort of arch-rival who thwarts you all the time?”
Riyun winced. “Something like that.”
“And you think he’s behind this?”
“Not likely. Someone like him might be. Let’s get to our next objective.”
They didn’t talk the whole way over to the other apartment building. The sun was a pink glow in the east, lighting the sky tentatively.
Riyun wasn’t shocked when they found the second apartment matched the first. He held a glass up to the kitchen light: not a spot or a smudge. Everywhere they looked, the place had been cleaned, wiped down, organized.
“A compulsion.” He ran a finger across a dresser top. “I mean, you could’ve wiped the place clean of prints and other evidence could have been obliterated, but this?”
Naru’s brow furrowed. “You think this was intentional?”
“Intentional without the ability to control himself.”
“He? This Kozmut?”
“Or she.” But Riyun felt sure it was a he, maybe even Kozmut. It had to be Kozmut. “What matters is, it’s a mistake. The compulsion that requires this level of organization…”
“So whoever did this couldn’t help themselves?”
“That’s the way it is.”
Quil’s voice was soft. It sounded like he was in the kitchen talking to someone.
Riyun quietly headed out there, listening. The pseudo held a communicator. He spoke names and locations from the case.
“Quil?” Riyun pointed at the communicator.
Quil motioned that he had muted the connection. “It is Symbra. She is curious what we are doing now.”
“Mind if I talk to her?”
“You are in command, Lieutenant.” Quil brought out a tablet, tapped it, and unmuted. “I am transferring to you.”
Riyun’s tablet vibrated. He pulled it out. “Symbra?”
“Oh.” She sounded surprised. “Was I not allowed to talk to Quil?”
“That’s fine. I wanted an update, is all.”
“Sure. It sounds like you’re having the same problems we are: dead ends?”
“It’s too early to know that.” He forced himself to relax. “But it looks like it.”
“Quil said there’s like a real lack of evidence? Like these guys have no data trail?”
“They’ve completely disappeared—the two who supposedly resigned. The fourth one…we found a body.”
“Quil said that. And no data? No tablet? No money trail?”
No tablet. Riyun rushed back to the bedroom, nearly bumping into Naru as she came out. “Naru, have we seen tablets for any of these guys?”
The hacker squinted, concentrating. “No. But if these two guys moved somewhere…”
“They didn’t move somewhere. Someone’s going to find their bodies, same as we did Aliat’s. Somewhere.”
Symbra made a strange noise, almost like a whistle. “You know, Zabila completely disappearing makes some sense to me.”
Riyun glanced around the room. “How’s that?”
“If these investigators hadn’t gone missing, just sort of figure she…”
“Killed herself. I know. I’m getting that.”
“Right. But I don’t think she did. Some of her friends thought she might have.”
“You talk to them?”
“We did. I did. Tawod just kind of…” Symbra muttered something.
“Is he giving you trouble?”
“I think he’s more bothered by this assignment than a lot of us. I get the sense he doesn’t much care for my type.”
If he’d been in the Steel Fury Brigade, he’d worked for some of the biggest of the Onath families—the Silvers—and their corporations. He’d seen the worst of them. “I’ll talk to him.”
“It’s no big deal. The thing is, we looked into her background: What did she do? Where did she do it? Who did she hang out with? As far as I can tell, it was her apartment, school, and that dance club from the vid file. In that order. Her friends said she spent most of her time alone at her apartment.”
Riyun pulled the image up from the file, the one showing Zabila at the dance club. She seemed so sad, isolated and alone, even with a crowd pressed around her, the object of so much attention. She had the clothing and the look to match anyone else in the picture, but it didn’t seem to matter to her. He drilled down a little deeper, focusing first on her dejected face, then on her clothes, then on the dance club and the people around her.
“This dance club? Starlight…?” Riyun pulled the view back to get all of Zabila in the frame, then drilled down closer on her shoulders.
“Starlight Express.”
“Did you check into it? The name of it, anyone who worked there?”
“Nothing special about the name. Her friends said it was their favorite place—hip and trendy. Apparently, she hated it.”
“I can’t imagine why.” He drilled closer into the image, then let the video play until she turned slightly. “You see this thing she’s wearing? Is that a backpack?”
“The backpack? Yeah, we noticed that. One of her friends said it was nearly as expensive as the tablet she kept with her all the time. Same thing—tailor-made, very tight specs.”
Naru crossed her arms and began to pace. Her bottom lip jutted out, like a pouting kid.
Riyun tried to put his back to the hacker. “It cost as much as a high-end tablet? It looks like a cartoon dog? Symbra?”
“Yes.” The young woman sounded as if she might be distracted by something. “Some sort of programming she grew up with. I’m doing a search on the image now.”
“Not a real dog, then? Not something she was attached to?”
“No. Her friends said it was a show of some sort when they were kids.”
“That tablet of hers—you said it was important?”
“Well, she was a really good systems student—a genius. She created content and other code that turned heads. And the tablet was as good as you could get.”
“Distinctive things—the backpack and tablet. Hard to pawn.”
“I already sent out queries, just in case.”
The hacker stopped her pacing. “If she had a high-end tablet, you’re not going to be able to pawn it.”
Riyun paused the connection. “You think you can help with this?”
“I don’t know if I can do as well as—” Naru rolled her eyes. “—Symbra. But I do know something about tablets. Sort of my job, you know. Hacker? Remember?”
“I’m joining you in.” Riyun resumed the connection. “Symbra, I’m bringing Naru into the call.” He waited until the hacker nodded—she was connected. “Naru has some ideas about the tablet.” He pointed to her.
The hacker stared off into space. “Do we have the manufacturer name, or the model, or anything else like that for this tablet?”
Symbra huffed. “Well, we could ask her mother, I guess. But her friends said it was tailor-made.”
“Literally tailor-made?”
“That’s what they said.”
“Okay. That gives us something to go on. There are only two places that do high-end tablets built-to-order, and only one of them sells to the…open market. So, she must’ve had a Nual. And if it’s really a high-end version, then it has a built-in tracking system. You don’t steal Nual systems, because the owner can break it remotely. Anywhere there’s a portal. Steal it, and you have a dead piece of machinery in no time.”
For the first time since coming to Kamiyan, a sense of excitement ran through Riyun. “What if someone blanked it? You know, wiped it out?”
“You can only wipe out so much. It still leaves a footprint. If it’s out there and hasn’t been completely destroyed, we can trace it.”
Riyun had to fight
back a smile. “Symbra, have you checked her apartment yet?”
“No.” The Onath sounded embarrassed. “We were meeting with her friends.”
“Let’s meet there. We can start a trace on this tablet, maybe get an idea of where she is now. Or where she was, at least.”
Naru signaled that she was getting off the call. “I need to make a call, see if there’s a record of this tablet.”
He nodded. “Symbra?”
“Yes?”
“Can you and Tawod meet us at Zabila’s apartment?” He glanced at Quil, who’d been listening in. The pseudo flashed eight fingers: eight minutes. “Ten minutes?”
“We’re on our way.” Symbra disconnected.
The dread that had been gnawing at Riyun’s resolve finally seemed to recede at least a little. He herded Naru and Quil out of the apartment and to the skimmer. The vehicle couldn’t possibly move fast enough.
As they sped through the steel canyons, sunlight pushed back the darkness.
There was hope. Maybe they could save Zabila after all.
Or maybe they would have to settle for finding…answers.
10
Zabila’s apartment was about what Riyun had expected. It was a little less ostentatious, a little smaller, and a little messier, but the bedroom in particular gave off the pampered, young billionaire vibe.
And something else.
He wrinkled his nose. “Is that—?”
“Body odor. Yeah.” Symbra spun around slowly. “Her friends said she had a tendency to become absorbed in things. Like, days at a time, hunkered down in here, just…”
“Living like an animal.” Like the guy in the alleyway.
“Some people lose track of time. It’s like the opposite of what you described from those investigators’ apartments.”
Riyun found what looked like a wand—like something from a silly fairy tale. There were gems embedded in a faux wooden surface. It was plastic, smooth to the touch. “Any idea what this is?”
Symbra took it from him and twisted it around, pressing against the gems. “Some sort of—”
Music boomed in the bedroom and living room. It was a fast beat, heavy with bass and strange stutters. Alien-sounding choirs intermittently cut in, only to be replaced by tribal chanting.
His eyes went to the ceiling corners, where camouflaged speakers were suspended. “Feel free to turn that off.”
“Easier said than done.” She stabbed the wand at the speakers. “Oh for—”
Naru burst into the bedroom. “Hey—wait! I recognize that!”
Riyun grunted. “I didn’t know you were into torture.”
“Ha ha.” She closed her eyes and bobbed her head back and forth. “Seriously. I recognize this.”
“Yeah?”
“From a couple years ago. When I was still in school. It’s from a game.”
“They had games about torture?” Riyun wished he’d brought Tawod into the apartment instead of leaving him to watch over the vehicles. The demolitions expert was due for a little attitude adjustment, and the music—if it could be called that—seemed appropriately painful.
She glared at Riyun. “You really need to broaden your horizons.”
“I’ll get right on that. Now, you want to tell me why we can’t turn this off?”
“I did tell you—it’s from a game.” She snapped her fingers, and her face lit up. “Andromeda Ruins!”
“Andromeda ruins? What is that?”
Symbra nodded vigorously. “She’s right. That was the opening music. Right?”
Naru smiled. “Where you see that big dance scene in the nightclub. That’s where you get recruited by that really pretty guy.”
Riyun snatched the wand out of Symbra’s hand. He stabbed at the gems, until one finally depressed, and the music went silent. “Hollow Hills. I don’t think I could’ve lasted a minute with an interrogator using that.”
The hacker rolled her eyes. “It’s a hot scene. I think you would’ve enjoyed it. It might loosen you up.”
“Like a hot knife under the nails.”
“I can probably do that for you.”
“Now that we’re past that ‘hot scene,’ you mind telling me why this is so significant?”
Naru settled on the overstuffed bed, pushing back piles of clothing with her butt. She had her tablet out and was staring at it.
Symbra stepped closer. “Games like Andromeda Ruins require purchases. They have dedicated communities. You play something like that—you leave a big trail.”
Riyun’s eyes went to the piled clothes on the bed and floor and in the closet. “Yeah. Kind of smelled that.”
“I don’t think you understand.”
“You said this was two years old.”
“It was released two years ago. Maybe three. But someone who keeps the theme on their sound system? She could have still been playing this. It could be why she was—” Symbra nodded toward the soiled clothing. “Obsessive.”
“Becoming obsessive over a game? Isn’t that a little pathetic?”
Symbra winced. “With your background, this is probably hard to understand. The thing is, these companies spend billions on behavioral research and technology. An entertainment investment like this—”
“A game.”
“—promises a revenue stream for years. Spend a billion, and you get back ten times as much.”
“Billion? With a ‘b’?”
“You hook people in with the design, if you know what you’re doing.”
“So, they exploit people like her?”
“Sort of. As a side effect. They’re trying to exploit everyone.” She looked him up and down, smirking. “Well, humans, at least.”
“I guess I’m safe.” He spun around when the hacker squealed, expecting…he wasn’t sure what.
Naru waved her tablet like a victory flag. “Got it!”
“Got what?” Riyun’s eyes darted between the two women. “Are you going to share this discovery?”
“Try a little patience on for size, okay?” The hacker looked around the bed and made a face that said she’d just realized what she’d been sitting near. She got back to her feet and brushed off her butt. “So, remember how I said we could track down a tablet like she had? How it leaves a trail?”
“Unless it’s destroyed.”
“Well, it wasn’t. Not when she was playing this, which was up until about six months ago.”
“You’re already losing me. How does this help us? She disappeared less than three months ago.”
“Right. But she was spending money on this old game. And now I’ve got that money trail, and I’m getting the tablet trail…” She beamed at him for a second, then took on the look of a very disappointed teacher. “Don’t you understand any of this?”
Riyun blushed. “I understand overlapping fields of fire and bounding overwatch. I understand urban operations and clearing entrenched positions. I understand getting you fitted for armor you didn’t have and getting you trained with Tawod’s weapons, all at my expense. I understand—”
“Whoa! Don’t try to guilt me. I was just asking if you understand any of this.” The hacker jutted her bottom lip. “No big if you don’t. Just say so.”
“I don’t.” He squared his shoulders, then felt ridiculous. “Mind explaining?”
“Sure. It comes down to this: We know where she spent her money, and we know how she spent her time.” Naru waved her tablet again. “And now I’m running a query to see where those two combined show her last activity.”
“You mean, we don’t know where her tablet is right now…?”
“No.” The hacker seemed ready to pout again. She stuck the tablet under one arm and strolled out of the room.
Riyun took a step, but Symbra put a hand on his chest.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse—”
“She’s trying to figure this out.” The young Onath craned her neck to get a good look out the door, then turned back. “Maybe you could just cut her a little s
lack?”
“I was simply trying to ask—”
“I know. It’s just…” Symbra dropped her chin to her chest. “You kind of come off a little strong. She’s trying to impress you, and you’re not really giving her an opportunity to.”
“I am impressed. She’s made a connection between Zabila’s tablet and this game.”
“Well, you’re not very good at showing…appreciation. A woman likes to—” Symbra turned away. “A young woman likes to know when she’s doing things right.”
“Huh. We haven’t really had young women on the team before. I mean, I guess, Javika was young once.”
“Wasn’t she established before you brought her onto the team?”
He chuckled. “Biwali warriors are established before they’re ten years old. She was training with knives when she was still in diapers. I bet Javika could—”
It sounded like Symbra growled. “I get it. You’ve only ever had super assassin women on your team before now.”
“Huh? No. We had a gal on the team a few years ago who was phenomenal with explosives. And then we had another gal who was a better sharpshooter than Hirvok. Oh, and we had this one—”
Symbra threw up her arms. “Forget it. Just…give her some room. Okay?”
“I didn’t realize I wasn’t.” Riyun couldn’t do anything more than scratch his cheek as the young Onath stormed from the room. He was still trying to figure Symbra out. She seemed to have potential as a mercenary, but she was going to have to work on her maturity.
And her communications.
Maybe Javika could help with that. He’d have to talk to her when there was time.
After a few minutes, he headed out to the living room and cut into the kitchen, where Quil was organizing plates in the cabinets.
The pseudo turned when Riyun scuffed to a stop. “Curious the way this apartment was left in such a mess, Lieutenant.”
“I guess her mother wanted to keep things the way they were. Maybe she thought it would help bring Zabila back.” Riyun shrugged. “It would’ve been nice to at least have the laundry done.”
“Is that what it is? I thought perhaps there had been some sort of sewage backup. Or maybe a chemical weapon.”
“Chemical—” Riyun caught the faintest hint of a smile on the pseudo’s face. “You trying to develop a sense of humor, Quil?”
