"Hey, I never hurt anyone, I swear. I'm not part of any of the acquisition or indoctrination teams. I just scout out potential personnel."
Harenn made a low, cold sound in her throat and Kendi was seized with sudden fury at Todd. Forgetting his role as good cop, he grabbed the front of Todd's shirt and shook him once. "Did you 'scout out' my brother and sister?"
"I don't know," Todd squeaked. "Who are they?"
"They were both enslaved by DrimCom," Kendi snarled, twisting Todd's collar. "Was it your Collection that took them away?"
"I can't . . . breathe," Todd choked. "I can't . . . "
"Ken," Ben said from the corner. "His lips are turning blue."
Kendi released Todd so fast the man fell backward onto the examination bed. Ben pursed his lips. Todd sucked in great gulps of air and massaged his throat.
"Prep him, Harenn," Kendi said. "I want him coked to the gills and ready to talk fluidly and easily by the time I get back. I'm going for a walk. Maybe in the Dream."
"With great pleasure, Father," Harenn said, raising her hypodermic.
"You said no needles if I talked," Todd cried, trying to push himself away. His back was already against the wall, however, and he had nowhere to go.
"Dermospray, Harenn," Kendi said over his shoulder as he left the medical bay. "But use whatever drug you like."
The doors snapped shut behind him, cutting off Todd's protest. Kendi started to stride away but halted when a familiar voice called out behind him. Ben put a hand on Kendi's shoulder.
"Not right now, Ben," Kendi said tightly. "I'm too pissed off to be rational."
"I was scared you'd let Harenn torture him," Ben admitted. "I'm glad you're better than that."
"Have to set an example, right?" Kendi almost snarled. He turned and abruptly strode up the hallway. "He's filth, Ben. He bred his own kids for slavery and arranged for Utang and Martina to be kidnapped, but I'm supposed to be nice to him."
"You're getting what you want," Ben pointed out. "That's all that matters."
"That's what Ara always said."
"Actually I think it's a quote from Irfan's writings," Ben said. "In any case, it's true. We'll find out what he knows and we'll find your brother and sister."
"I know where they are," Kendi growled. "They're being held by one of the most ruthless megacorps in the galaxy in what I imagine is one of the highest security areas of one of the biggest stations in human space. The trouble won't be finding them. The trouble will be getting them out."
"You're going to take on Silent Acquisitions?" Ben asked.
"I have a choice?"
Ben paused. "I'm not sure whether to talk you out of it or egg you on," he said finally.
"Doesn't matter," Kendi told him. "I'm doing it. I just need some time to come up with a plan."
CHAPTER FOUR
"I can't be a religious icon. I make too many mistakes."
--Irfan Qasad
"The Collection has three department heads and one manager," Todd said dreamily. "The manager's name is Edsard Roon. He answers directly to the Board at Silent Acquisitions. Board and room, I think. I wanted a pony in my room when I was little, but--"
"Who are the three department heads for the Collection?" Kendi interrupted.
"Rafille Mallory is Chief of Security. I've only talked to her once. Once upon a time there lived three--"
"Who else is a department head?"
"Elena Papagos-Faye is Chief of Information Services, which means she does the computer stuff. Do you think she could get me a deal on--"
"Who else?" Kendi asked with a mental sigh. The problem with hypnoral, besides the fact that it was damned expensive, was that it tended to unhook the brain-to-mouth filter. The person didn't so much babble as flit from one subject to another, and it was a challenge to keep Todd on topic. On the other hand, hypnoral had no side-effects and was easy to use.
Todd was currently lying on the medical bay bed, arms at his sides, eyes on the white ceiling. His pupils were wide and dark, and a medical monitor strip clung to his forehead. Harenn stood nearby, one eye on Todd himself and the other on the data pad that tracked his vital signs. Ben sat in a chair at the foot of Todd's bed. The lights overhead were harsh and white.
"Ken Jeung heads up Research," Todd said. "He's the last department head. Jeung's a doctor, and he's doing genetic and medical stuff, but I don't know exactly what. There's a lot I don't know. I don't know how many elephants there are on Earth or how much the slavers sold my children for or--"
"What's the computer security like?" Ben interrupted.
"Solid. You can only access Collection computers on the Collection's private network. The network is isolated from the rest of the station. I have access, but only at a basic level. The higher up you go, the tighter security gets. Only the department heads can access the high-level functions, and those are guarded by prints and keys. Did you ever notice that prints and prince are pronounced the same even though they're spelled--"
"Quiet, Todd," Kendi ordered, and Todd fell silent. "What's the matter, Ben? You can hack this, right? We need high-level computer access to pull this off."
Ben's head was in his hands. "It's an isolated key-and-print system. We're screwed."
"What is a key-and-print system?" Harenn asked.
"It's a system where you need two things to get access--an authorized thumbprint and a matching key. You scan the thumb and slot the key. If you try to get access with only one of them, the system shuts down and shouts for help. If you have the wrong key or print, the system shuts down shouts for help. Key-and-print systems are absolutely impossible to hack unless you have world-class hacking programs, the kind of stuff a major government might have. I don't have anything remotely close to that kind of power." This last he said with a kind of horrified awe.
"No system is unbreakable," Kendi said, trying to hold on to optimism. "I think Lucia can make an artificial thumb from a latent print. That won't be hard. What are the keys like?"
"Each one looks like a small cylinder about the size of your little finger," Ben said. "It contains a chip with rotating, one-use algorithms that are keyed to one person's unique thumbprint. The thumbprint provides the key to the chip's algorithm. Print and key together create the access code for the computer." He ran a hand through his hair. "But it gets worse."
"How?" Kendi asked.
"Todd said the system is isolated. It isn't connected to the SA Station's network, which means that even we somehow got a synthetic thumb and a key, I wouldn't be able to do anything with them unless I got into the Collection itself and accessed a Collection computer."
Kendi tried to keep his heart from sinking. "Well, we need high-level computer access so we'll have get our hands on the keys. We'll worry about actual access later." He turned back to Todd. "Tell me about the keys."
"They go everywhere," Todd said. "I screwed Elena Papagos-Faye--or maybe she screwed me--and she told me her key stays with her all the time. The department heads have to report a missing key and that means all four of them have to get new keys and the system is physically shut down until that's taken care of. If they ever take their key off, they have to hide it someplace secure. I know because Elena took hers off before we got into bed and she hid it somewhere but I never saw where. She was a real monster in the sack. She made me kneel between her--"
"Shut up, Todd," Kendi ordered.
"Perhaps we should have him recount his adventure in detail," Harenn said. "It could prove useful as fodder for blackmail."
"Later," Kendi said. "Ben, can the keys be copied?"
Ben thought about that. "Maybe. But it would involve getting our hands on each key long enough to copy it. And if any of the four department heads suspected something, they'll shut the system down and get new keys."
Harenn tapped her data pad. "The hypnoral is wearing off. If you have more questions, you should ask them now before we give him new memories."
"I don't have any at the moment," Kendi said. He lea
ned closer to Isaac Todd. The harsh smell of hypnoral hung about him. "Todd, when you wake up, you will remember taking a long nap, and nothing more. You will not remember talking to us here and you will not remember answering any questions. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Todd replied languidly.
"You will, however, remember having a terrifying nightmare that froze your very soul," Harenn put in. "The nightmare will involve a hospital bed and many needles. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Kendi reached down and closed Todd's eyes. Almost immediately, the man began to snore. Ben turned to Harenn. "Was that necessary?" he asked.
"No," was all Harenn said.
The Poltergeist popped out of slipspace, and Lucia dePaolo said a small prayer of thanks to Irfan as she always did upon a successful exit. Less than a second later, her flight board was cluttered with long slices of flashing text and urgent messages ordering her to come no closer to SA Station without agreeing to the terms in the attached contract. In the captain's chair, Father Kendi puffed out his cheeks and activated his data pad. Lucia sent over a copy of the contract and the pad beeped in acknowledgment. Father Kendi tapped the tiny computer, ordering it to compare the current contract with the one in the monastery database.
"They haven't substantially altered the stupid thing since the last time I was here," he mused. "I was hoping they'd have dropped the whole issue, what with the Despair and all."
"No such luck," Gretchen said from her own station.
Father Kendi shook his head. "They're still expecting us to hand over fifty percent of everything we earn while on the station and a controlling interest in the ship. And then there's that DNA clause. 'Party of the first part agrees to assign to the party of the second part all rights to the party of the first part's DNA and first work derived therefrom.' They have to be the only corporation around that literally wants you to sign over your firstborn child. Do they honestly think anyone's going to fall for it?"
"Enough people must," Gretchen replied, "since they keep asking."
"Well, at least it means the database's strike list is still valid. You have it, Lucia?"
"Yes, Father."
"Merge the list with the contract and send the whole thing back."
Lucia prepared the new contract--there was no indication anywhere on the original that Silent Acquisitions even considered counter-offers--and sent it. It came back a few moments later with the message, "Final terms accepted. You may dock at loading bay XC-14539-MAL. All appropriate charges apply."
"We're set, Father."
"Then find the bay and let's dock."
Lucia punched up course information and laid it in. Before her, the viewscreen showed a view of the station itself. The sight was disconcerting, even though Lucia had visited the place twice before. SA Station orbited a star, not a planet, and as a result there was nothing nearby to give the station real scale. Part of the problem lay in its irregular shape. Like many stations, SA Station was a hodge-podge of parts and pieces. Bits had been stuck on as required over time, and Silent Acquisitions had been in business for a long time indeed. The station's volume easily matched that of a pair of good-sized moons, or even a tiny planet. It turned slowly in its orbit, a clunky, uneven lattice designed by a drunken spider. Between the uneven shape and the lack of orbital bodies in the immediate area, Lucia wanted to see the station as toy-sized. And then a tiny, tiny grain of sand would skitter across in front of it, and Lucia would realize it was a cargo vessel big enough to transport an entire pod of Bellerophon dinosaurs. It was like watching a picture of a young woman turn into an old hag and back again. The whole thing made her seasick, so she dropped her eyes to the instrument panel and concentrated on following course and flying the ship.
Conversation died away, and a strained silence filled the bridge. Lucia heard a faint tapping--Father Kendi drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. Eagerness and tension radiated off him, and Lucia suppressed an urge to give him advice about the serenity of Irfan. It wouldn't be her place. Instead, Lucia tried to hurry without compromising ship safety.
Despite long hours spent in meditation and weeks of constant exposure to him, Lucia's awe of Father Kendi Weaver hadn't lessened. Every time she saw him, she couldn't help but remember that he had been instrumental in saving the entire universe. It was he who had held back Padric Sufur's malformed children in the Dream, kept them at bay long enough for Vidya and Prasad Vajhur to put their twisted solid-world bodies into cryo-sleep and end the Despair. True, there were other heroes of the Despair. Ben Rymar had saved Kendi's life and thereby allowed Kendi to save the Dream. Sejal Dasa, son of Vidya and Prasad, had fought Sufur's children to a standstill. But Ben was so unassuming, and Lucia had never met Sejal or Vidya and Prasad. Kendi, however, was something else entirely. He looked like a hero--tall and handsome and confident, giving his commands in a firm, clear voice.
Did she have a crush on him?
No. Most definitely not. That wouldn't be her place, either.
A slight thump reverberated through the bridge and an indicator light on Lucia's board flashed. "Docking complete, Father," she reported.
"Great. I'll get started on the forms--oh joy--and the rest of you can stretch your legs until we get clearance to disembark. After the customs team leaves, I'll want everyone in the galley for a briefing. Got it?"
"I'll spread the word, Chief," Gretchen said, rising and heading for the door.
Lucia stretched with a popping of joints. Every part in her body felt stiff and achy after hours of piloting. She nodded to Father Kendi, who was already muttering to the forms on his data pad, and left the bridge. Apparently even heroes couldn't escape paperwork.
Lucia's ocular implant flashed the time across her retina. She had five minutes to make it to her quarters before daily ritual. A hurried descent in the lift, a light jog down another corridor, and she was entering her own rooms.
As the newest member of the crew, Lucia rated the smallest quarters on the ship. Living room barely big enough to turn around in, bedroom not much wider than her single bunk, efficiency bathroom, no kitchen. Lucia didn't really mind. The place did have a decent-sized window. At the moment, the view was currently black, star-strewn space. Every so often a point of light crept across the void--a ship or a shuttle. Flat pictures and full holograms covered every inch of wall space. People smiled, waved, made faces, or struck silly poses, and all of them bore similar features. Lucia had six brothers and sisters, a dozen aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews galore, and cousins beyond counting. She smiled fondly at a photo of her parents taken not long after their marriage. They were sitting on a porch swing holding hands. She would have to write them a letter soon, see if Ben would be willing to relay it to Bellerophon through the Dream. There was so much to tell them, though she knew Dad would be a little unnerved when he heard how close she and the others had come to getting caught while rescuing Bedj-ka. She could almost hear his voice, unsettled but touched with pride all the same: "You're just a little kid! My baby girl! You're going to give your poor old dad a heart attack one of these days with these adventures of yours!"
An alarm chimed softly and Lucia shook herself. It was time. Two steps took Lucia to the tiny altar set just below the window. On it stood a small statue of Irfan Qasad carved from smooth white marble. Her features bore a peaceful serenity that calmed Lucia whenever she saw them. In the statue's left hand was a scroll, symbol of communication. The statue's right hand was raised in a gesture of beckoning. Leaves and ivy were etched into her clothing, and a double-helix strand of DNA wound around her upraised arm. At the statue's feet sat a small gold platter and three squat candles. Lucia picked up a striker and lit the first candle.
"Great Lady, let the winds and the oceans, the nights and days, the Dream and the world, be all sweet to us." She lit the second candle. "Wondrous Mother, let us follow the path of your goodness for always, like the stars and planets moving in the sky. " She lit the third candle. "Guide and Goddess, let
us know and appreciate the points of view of others. You who are the wise and benevolent lady of speech, shower your blessings on us that we may continue your work."
Lucia took up a stick of incense and lit it from one of the candles. The soft, sweet smoke stole over her, and she felt her muscles relax under the familiar ritual, one she had been performing since childhood. She pressed the base of the statue, and a quiet music filled the room like gentle bells. When the song faded, it seemed to Lucia that a quiet, benign presence filled the room and her heart. Lucia breathed a greeting.
"Welcome, Great Mother, and hear my prayer," she murmured. "Thank you for returning Bedj-ka to Harenn and for granting her the happiness she deserves. Let us find Father Kendi's brother and sister. Let them remain safe and whole until we can bring them to the safety of your bosom. Keep my family safe and well. Let Narmi's pregnancy go well and touch her child with your blessings. Distract the evil Vik and keep him from tainting our lives with his foul presence."
Lucia paused and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm while saying difficult words. Her throat threatened to close anyway. "And please, Great Lady, do not withdraw the blessing of Silence from your people. Do not allow your servants to scatter like the wind. The Children of Irfan do great good in the universe, and it would be wrong to let them fade away. I beg you, Kind One, to grant my Silent brethren entry into the Dream once again. I give thanks for your blessings and pray for your wisdom. Your will be in all."
She waited a moment, inhaling sweet smoke and mumming a soft chant. Irfan would not let her children die away. She was good and kind, a force for order and justice. Lucia simply had to have faith everything would work out. There was nothing else she could do. Several long breaths later, Irfan's peace and serenity settled over Lucia like a well-worn blanket. She sighed heavily. Everything would be fine, as long as she kept her faith.
Lucia picked up a small silver snuffer, put out the candles, and doused the incense. A few moments later she was down in the galley rummaging through the cabinets and refrigerator for sandwich fixings. She had already set an enormous pot of coffee on to brew, and the rich smell quickly permeated the room. Lucia's scarred hands laid out new loaves of brioche, thin-sliced ham, hard salami, crunchy water cress, sweet peppers, spicy benyai leaves, cheddar cheese, and an assortment of sauces ranging from milky-mild to tongue-blisteringly sharp. The Children of Irfan might be a monastic order, but the monks didn't practice asceticism in food or in living arrangements. The Pathway Church of Irfan didn't require it, either, and for this Lucia was grateful.
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