On Angel’s wrist, Charlotte’s bracelet tingled, indicating she was approaching their target. She moved to the side of the road and leaned against a wall. She adopted the droopy-headed pose of someone accessing their implants on full stream. In reality, she was scanning the street as best she could. In one hand she held a disposable cup, and she periodically sipped at her tea.
The problem facing the Inquisitors was that if one turned rogue, they knew how the system worked. And that system was easily manipulated, security taken for granted by the corporations, who had a hold on the general population. Their main threat came from other corporations, industrial espionage, and intellectual property theft. But when you’d spent years investigating how a few individuals had been able to take on the corporations and almost get away with it, you gained a fair bit of useful knowledge.
Angel finished the dregs of her tea and paused.
[There’s a waste container beside you. The box with the hole in the top.]
Of course. She popped the cup into the container, keeping her focus on the target: Senior President Crissalt of the Bank of the People. A minor corporation that took advantage of colonists and pioneers who naively signed over a percentage of all future profits for cash and resources now, in order for them to be able to start a new life. It was more like the People of the Bank as, all too often, the company ended up owning everything as their clients’ debts mounted. It was a business practice that had been ancient when man first took to the stars. But it wasn’t the corporation itself Charlotte was interested in; it was what they had access to: the banking system.
But there was another anomaly Angel hadn’t told Charlotte about yet. Crissalt and his bank were both in the data Angel had pulled from Summer’s ship. Two names among hundreds. But it meant he had to know something about the Genevolves and what they were up to.
Charlotte made sure Crissalt stood out. He shone brighter than the surrounds, so Angel could easily identify him. But she couldn’t see his expression, his eyes; didn’t know where he was looking, or if he’d seen her.
Angel took a breath and made her way through the crowd, stepping aside to let a smaller, bent-over triangle with a circle head, pass.
[It’s an old woman.]
“Thanks,” Angel replied.
Crissalt was an oddity for a senior president. Charlotte had confirmed there was no flashy tailored suit for him, and he wandered around the eclectic district. Angel trailed him as he wound through the crowd, stopping occasionally at stalls selling jumbles of lines, circles, squares and a myriad other shapes. Oddments and assorted knickknacks, she assumed. Crissalt took his time and pawed through their contents. Eventually, he stepped through a rectangle set within a cube—the door of a building.
[It’s a noodle parlor.]
Angel followed him inside. The floor underfoot was rough, and the humid air was laden with garlic and ginger and chili.
[It’s seen better days,] Charlotte communicated. [Judging by the splotches overlaid on the walls and floor, the place could do with a good scrubbing. There are stools around a counter—the stretched oval you can see—with servers in the center and a window to the kitchen area situated at the end.]
Crissalt was sitting across from her, next to a triangle with a circle head—a woman. He was hunched over, peering at a square.
[He’s reading the menu.]
“Yes, I get it,” snapped Angel, immediately regretting her outburst. “Sorry. I’m a bit testy.”
This was going to be tricky. She made her way to the side of the counter opposite the banker. She shuffled to a red circle at about waist height, which was on the end of a vertical line descending to the gray floor. From the geometric figures to either side came the sounds of chewing and slurping. She sat on the circle and swiveled to face the counter.
She overheard Crissalt order dumplings and pickled vegetables, and the hollow ache in her stomach gave her an excuse to hang around. After a moment’s deliberation, she raised a hand and waited until a triangle/circle in the center of the counter came over. She ordered a bowl of spicy noodles. Her food and Crissalt’s arrived at roughly the same time, and she tucked in. The noodles really were good. The homemade stock had a rich depth of flavor and was spicy enough to burn her lips. She could understand why Crissalt came here. After scoffing down half her bowl, she wiped her mouth with a tissue and ordered an almond milk tea.
Crissalt hadn’t moved, other than to eat his dumplings. Charlotte had obviously put some effort into giving him more details, and on the end of his stick arms he held two more sticks: chopsticks. He was moving them from a circle in front of him, a bowl, to a smaller circle to the side. Probably dipping sauce. He was taking his time, and Angel relaxed slightly. Nothing would happen for a while, and she might as well loosen up while she could. Her head and eyes still ached, and she was gobbling painkillers like they were candy. She’d lowered her self-medicated dosage for tonight, knowing she’d need to stay sharp and keep her wits about her.
As her hunger abated, thoughts crept into her head. Was she doing the right thing? She knew Charlotte’s arguments made sense, but she wasn’t telling the whole truth. Yes, she deserved to be free, but not doing whatever she liked at the expense of others. She claimed to care about Angel. But Charlotte was keeping her as much a prisoner as Mercurial had kept herself.
Would handing themselves in to the Inquisitors be a better option for both of them? The Inquisitors would do their best to keep Charlotte out of the hands of Mercurial… or would they? Some were corrupt, while others would follow the law—and what if they determined Charlotte was Mercurial’s property? Angel massaged the back of her neck. It was possible they would, but she was no lawyer. Would the finish line for sentience be “adjusted” when they knew about Charlotte, forever just out of reach of current technology? Cognizant minds condemned to a lifetime of slavery, a lifetime that could conceivably last forever. Charlotte was basing her decisions and actions on the worst-case scenario, and Angel wasn’t sure that was for the best.
But she couldn’t walk away from Charlotte. Not only because at the moment she was dependent on the girl, but as it stood, she was Charlotte’s only friend and confidant. If Angel decided the Inquisitors could help, Charlotte would feel betrayed, and that would leave one very angry, frightened, scared little girl believing she’d been abandoned. A girl whose mind eclipsed Angel’s in almost every way, but who’d yet to grow up, to learn what it was like to care for others.
Angel snorted. Charlotte had decided it was humanity against her, and Angel couldn’t afford to let her feel she was right to think so. Whatever Charlotte grew into, for now, she was emotionally fragile and immature.
Angel fished around in her bowl but found it empty. She reached for her almond milk before realizing Crissalt’s stool was empty. She waved her credit chip in front of the cashier and hurried outside. Idiot. You don’t have much peripheral vision, remember? She should have been more careful. She knew her vision was impaired and should have kept an eye on Crissalt while she was eating. She would need to work on it. What had gotten into her? She used to criticize Viktor for not practicing more with his implants.
Frantically, she scanned the crowd in the street for a line person brighter than the rest. She took a step and stumbled down the curb.
“Excuse me, miss, are you all right?”
Angel turned and drew in a sharp breath. Next to her were what looked like two spiders drawn with lines. A thin vertical rectangle with a circle on top stood behind them.
[There are two LEPs and a human law enforcement officer.]
Angel couldn’t see the expression on the man’s face, but she had to assume it was concern. She ran a hand through her hair and did her best to look relieved.
“Yes, yes,” she stammered. “It was just a bit hot in there. I needed some fresh air.”
“Elevated heart rate,” announced one of the proxies.
“Must be the spicy noodles. I’m fine, really. Thank you for your concern.”
“Yes, of course. Maybe I’ll have a cold beer.”
The man grunted, and when the proxies stepped to the side and began scanning the street, Angel relaxed. They were linked to their controller’s physical and emotional state, and he’d obviously made his mind up Angel was harmless. “Move along, then.”
“Of course. Thank you.” Angel turned her back on them and strolled casually through the crowd and across the street.
Crissalt, where was he? The exchange with law enforcement hadn’t taken long, thankfully, and he couldn’t be too far away. She searched for any sign of him, judging he’d continue in the direction he’d traveled before, which was toward his apartment.
There. A glow far ahead of her. He couldn’t have stopped at any stalls like before. Angel sped up until she closed the gap to a reasonable distance, but knowing he’d decided to head home meant she needed to get into position, and at this rate she’d never make it. As she crossed a main road, she stepped in front of a box with circles at the bottom—a vehicle—forcing it to stop abruptly.
[It’s a taxi. Get in. Oh, it’s occupied.]
“Doesn’t matter,” Angel muttered. She held up her Inquisitor ID.
“Inquisitor override activated,” announced the taxi.
Her location would be flagged to the Inquisitors, but there was no helping it. With luck, she’d be long gone before they could track her down. The taxi’s door slid open to reveal a triangle and a rectangle: a couple.
[They look annoyed. She’s holding flowers.]
Great, Angel thought. I’m destroying someone’s date. At least they’ll get a good story out of it.
Angel wrinkled her nose as a strong reek of perfume assailed her. Before they could protest, she flashed her Inquisitor ID. “Out. Quickly now. I’m commandeering this vehicle.”
The man sputtered indignantly. “The hell you are! You can’t just—”
He cut off when Angel shifted so they could see the weapon at her side. “I can and I am. Get out. Time’s wasting.”
The couple clambered out of the taxi—shapes gliding smoothly. “Your superiors will hear about this,” the man snarled.
“I’ve no doubt they will.” Angel wrapped her coat over her weapon and climbed inside. She coughed and waved away the perfume, and slammed the door. “275th Street, apartment KB.”
“Destination confirmed,” chimed the taxi as they accelerated along. “Would you like music to accompany this transit?”
“No.”
Angel blanked out her simulated vision as they hummed along. It was making her head ache, and she needed a break. She sat back, and the seat molded to her form.
“Arrival in one minute.”
“Thank you. Now shut up.”
There was still time to back out before she made it to Crissalt’s apartment. It wasn’t too late. If she notified the Inquisitors as to what had really happened…
Angel shook her head. No. Mercurial would have covered all the probabilities. When something like this was at stake, their money would flow like water, and it seemed they had oceans to spare. Everyone had a price that they would do almost anything for, even the Inquisitors. If she went to them, neither she nor Charlotte would see the light of day again.
She jerked as the taxi braked to a stop. She waved her Inquisitor ID at the cashier again and hopped out. Since she’d used her Inquisitor powers to obtain the taxi, and they’d have a record of her trip in seconds, there was no point paying with an anonymous credit chip now; they’d trace it, and she’d never be able to use it again. At least they’d have no idea where she went from here.
Angel guessed she was now a few minutes ahead of Crissalt. Time enough to enter his building unobserved. She reinstated her simulated vision, and her rudimentary world made of lines reappeared. She made her way around the building to a service entrance. Soon she was riding an elevator to the 122nd floor.
She found Crissalt’s apartment then walked another twenty meters past until the rectangle/door was midway between her and the resident elevators. There she stopped and waited, again adopting the droopy-headed pose of someone fully streaming their implants. Any passing resident shouldn’t give her a second thought.
The elevator doors chimed open, and Crissalt exited. As he walked toward her, Angel kept her face down. Feigning a transition from implant streaming to consciousness, she shook her head and placed a hand on the wall to steady herself. She stretched, arms pointed toward the ceiling, and strolled in Crissalt’s direction.
[He glanced at you, but returned to unlocking his door.]
He entered, and as soon as he was out of sight, Angel broke into a sprint. She jammed her foot between the open door and jamb, and pointed her hand-cannon directly into Crissalt’s face.
“Back away and you’ll live,” Angel said calmly.
Crissalt did as he was told, and Angel slipped inside, closing the door behind her. She gestured with her gun for him to sit in what looked to be an armchair drawn in lines.
“Stay calm,” she said. “I’m not here to kill or kidnap you. I just need access to your bank’s systems.”
[He’s scared. His eyes are so wide the whites are showing, and his face is shiny with sweat.]
Crissalt shook his circle-head. “It won’t do you any good. You can’t transfer money without multiple approvals.”
Angel was about to say she wasn’t after his company’s money but decided the less the man knew, the better. “Let me worry about that.”
[In the corner. There’s a desk with a monitor and control system. The chair is on casters.]
Angel waved her weapon in that direction. “Over there. And don’t try to trigger any alerts. I’ll know if you do.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
[There’s a small device on the right of the desk: thumbprint reader and retinal scanner.]
“Use the scanner to access your systems. Now.”
The circle bobbed.
[Now he’s wiping his hands on his pants. He’s looking at you for permission.]
Angel nodded.
Crissalt moved a stick arm to the side, and his circle-head leaned forward.
[He’s using the thumb and retinal scanner. Ah, the monitor is active.]
Angel grabbed the chair and rolled Crissalt away from the desk. She turned back to the monitor. “Don’t try anything; I can see your reflection in the screen.” A lie, but Crissalt wouldn’t know that. She pulled a memory stick from her pocket and hesitated.
[Access ports are on the left-hand side of the terminal.]
Angel felt around for them, smoothly so as not to alert Crissalt to the fact she couldn’t see. Finding one, she plugged the memory stick in. Charlotte had modified it before giving it to her.
[I’m in,] Charlotte said. [This won’t take long.]
“It had better not,” Angel subvocalized.
[There. I’m through into Mercurial’s subsidiary. Rerouting inventory now.]
Angel turned to face Crissalt and sat on the edge of the desk. While Charlotte was busy, now was her chance to question Crissalt. She was doing Charlotte’s dirty work, but for reasons of her own. This man knew something about the Genevolves, and she meant to find out what. She triggered a jam of her implant feed and cut Charlotte off.
“Please,” Crissalt begged. “If you do this, I’m ruined. What did I do to you?” Whatever he could see of Charlotte’s maneuverings had him scared. “You won’t find it!” he blurted. “No one’s been able to find it!”
What the… “What are you babbling about?”
“The Genevolves. They’d kill you if they knew what you were after. They’ll kill me once they know I’m compromised.”
“You’ll be fine. We’re only after their credits.”
“Sure you are. I’m dead. We all are.”
Angel favored him with a wide grin. “They won’t know it was you. You’ll just have to trust me. Now, tell me about the Genevolves and t
he Sentience Project.”
“Oh God, you work for them. I guess we must be getting pretty close for you to make a personal visit.”
“I don’t work for the Genus. I’m Inquisitor Angel Xia of the House Liwei. Getting close to what?”
“The House of Liwei?”
“I know you’re funding illegal research, and paying off Inquisitors to turn a blind eye.”
“You don’t understand! We’re protecting humanity. The Sentience Project is the only way we can track down the Genus and stop them.”
[Angel, I’ve lost your stream. Is everything all right?]
Angel ignored Charlotte and held up a hand to Crissalt. “Wait. You’re claiming you’re working for Genevolves that want to help humanity?”
“Yes! I don’t know how much exposure you’ve had to the Genus, up there in your noble houses, but the rest of us have lost family, friends, whole cities to those psychopaths. We don’t force any of the Inquisitors to cooperate. Some agree with us, some just lap up the credits. If the House of Liwei wants to get involved, make sure you’re on the right side.”
So, the Genevolve chasing them was one of the good guys? No. Making a slave of a sentient being was never moral. Nor was attempting to kill her, or turning Mercurial’s headquarters on Persephone into a molten lake. Crissalt believed he was doing the right thing, that he was on humanity’s side. But all Angel knew was that two factions of Genevolves were out there, and both wanted Charlotte for their own reasons.
“You need to tell me more.”
Crissalt sighed in surrender. “We fund rehabilitation centers for people injured in Genevolve attacks. Foster homes for children they’ve orphaned. We’d never work for the Genus, but there’s more than one side to a coin. There are Genevolves we work with. They’ve made great advances in curing disease and genetic defects, and slowing aging. We sell these treatments; it’s where we get a lot of money.”
Inquisitor Page 15
