"Ma'am ... I mean Commander ..." Yoong paused, and took a deep breath. "I think it'd just be simpler if you uplinked to the network and let me show you."
"I can't uplink to anything right now," Sandy said patiently, "there's bad people with mysterious access to my whereabouts who have a certain code that could kill me."
"Yes, I know, ma ... Commander, that's what I'm saying! I've found it, I've found the sleeper system someone put on the State Department network that locked into CSA and CDF systems and let them trace your location!"
"Show me," Sandy demanded.
Yoong blinked at her. "Well, if you'd just uplink. . . "
"On your comp-slate." She pointed to the little unit in Yoong's suit pocket. Yoong blinked at that too, as if only just remembering he had it.
"Oh ... right, of course." He took it out, flipped it open and began rapidly downloading material from a personal database. "Here, you see, Commander, this is a triple slash version of the vega series of trace rerouters ...
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Sandy, snatching the slate from his hands. The 3-D graphical sequence on the screen looked familiar, she recog nised the shapes and formations with that portion of her brain that registered facial or speech recognition-reflexively and without quite knowing how-but that didn't mean she knew all the Feddie-Tanushan techie jargon they liked to throw around at Intel. Just because she knew what it was didn't mean she always knew what it was called ... and she scrawled rapidly through multiple facets and angleshifts upon the screen with a tracing forefinger, frowning as she tried to figure exactly what it did on a network the size and scale of the State Department's. "You found this where?"
"It was a subfile of a worker named, um ..." and he snapped his fingers, trying to remember. And Sandy's multitrack brain somehow found time to marvel at how such a genius with codes and numbers could still have difficulty recalling simple names. People's brains stored information in funny ways. "Damn it, I was just looking in his file ..
"Kalaji?" Vanessa suggested. Yoong stared at her, eyes brightening.
"Yes! Kalaji ... Enrico Kalaji!"
Sandy frowned at Vanessa. "One of Ari's geese?" she asked.
"One of Junior Assistant Director Samarang's," Vanessa agreed. "Or so he said."
"Oh yeah," said Yoong, "he's one of Samarang's closest ..." and he frowned at Sandy. "Ari's geese?"
"For his wild goose chases," Sandy explained, scrawling rapidly through the screen graphics. "Damn, I can't make this out, it's been too long since I actually looked at any code. Anyone have a cord?"
"Oh, yes," said Yoong, fumbling in a suit pocket. "Um ... just ... right here." He pulled out the connector lead. Sandy took it, slotted one end into the comp-slate and the other into the slim insert socket beneath the hair at the back of her skull. The data-wall didn't hit very hard, with just the little comp-slate. In no time she'd found the file and opened the program ... it unfurled before her in multilevel complexity, but nothing as advanced or complicated as the League-level tac-nets and security formulations she was familiar with. Here was the branch that connected to CDF central, and from there the links into main schedules and protocols, and over there the bypass subroutine that allowed what was supposed to be secure, encrypted information to be passed on to a third party along undesignated channels on the outside ...
Samarang worked for Secretary Grey. He'd been ordered to track her, including having her and Ari's vehicles bugged ... damn good work if you could bug anything Ari operated. But then, she recalled, the cruiser was on loan at short notice. Very sloppy, Ari. Kalaji was in direct control of the surveillance, and was apparently feeding it to friendly Ms. Jane. Why ... well, if she found him, she'd ask him. She only hoped she found him before Jane did ... as no doubt did CSA Investigations, who were becoming very sick of cleaning up Jane's mess after her.
But now, the monitoring software was secured, the leak in the State Department closed down, and no one was going to know with any degree of reliability where she was at any given moment. Jane still had codes that could trigger the killswitch, but wouldn't know where to search on the network at any given time to use them, making any remote attack attempt akin to the proverbial needle in the haystack, on a network the scale of Tanusha's. Caution was still required. But suddenly, she could use her uplinks again.
Sandy disconnected the cord from the insert, grabbed the startled Agent Yoong by the suit lapels, and planted a firm kiss on his lips.
"Thank you!" she told him delightedly, handed him back the compslate, grabbed Vanessa by the arm and hauled her briskly down the hallway. The astonished young agent stood in her wake, clutching his comp-slate, his light brown skin slowly turning a bright shade of pink.
"And you complained before Ari you couldn't find a man," Vanessa remarked scornfully as Sandy remembered the state of her head, and walked more slowly. "Intel's just teeming with all these nice, wellgroomed boys ..."
"Child abuse," Sandy retorted.
"He's at least thirty!"
"Still child abuse. I wanted a lover, not a pet. Vanessa, I need you to set things up. Can you do that?"
For a moment, there was no reply. "What's the time frame?" Vanessa said sombrely, after that moment had passed.
"Two rotations minimum."
Vanessa made a short, hissing sound through her teeth. "Sandy ... the President's right, you know. I haven't done orbital cps before."
"I have. I know what it takes. You'll be fine, I promise."
"Why ask me anyway?" Vanessa asked with mounting exasperation. "Why not Krishnaswali? He's in charge, it's going to be his decision anyway."
"Because he's the administrative, political and strategic commander, and he knows it," Sandy replied, taking a left, headed for the main flyer pad. "He was the safe political choice, not the practical operational one. Why do you think Ibrahim insisted you come along?"
"Sandy, I ..." Vanessa took a deep breath, ". . . I can't do this. I can't be constantly fighting with my superior! It's not how units are supposed to operate! Damn it, I even felt sorry for him this morning, having to tell him I'd been ordered along against his wishes ... he knows he's not in full operational command and I just don't know how long he's prepared to tolerate that!"
"He's never made any secret of his political connections, that's the way he's chosen to operate. They happened to include Secretary Grey ... I mean hell, Ricey, I'm not even sure how much to trust him in light of all this. Ibrahim evidently felt the same."
"Well, that's just fucking great," Vanessa retorted in rising temper, "Ibrahim needs a proxy, you go running off on one of Ari's goose chases, and I get left holding the detonator! You know, you always leave me stuck with this kind of shit, and I get sick of it!"
Sandy stared at her, incredulously. "Always?"
"Always!" Vanessa glared angrily at a passing Intel. The Intel looked hurriedly elsewhere, and quickened her pace.
"Name another time."
"I'm not making a fucking list, okay?! I feel like shit, I don't want to do this now!"
Sandy stared ahead down the hall, her jaw hardening. Vanessa fumed. A restroom door approached on their left. In a moment of firm resolve, Sandy made up her mind, grabbed Vanessa by the arm, and hauled her toward the door. Vanessa protested, but Sandy's grip was steely tight. The ladies room was a sparkling, tiled and gold-fixtures affair with broad mirrors and soft, inset lighting. And empty, Sandy discovered with a quick check beneath the stall doors as she released Vanessa's arm-there were very few people left on this level save CSA and CDF personnel. She turned back to Vanessa, who stood in the centre of the tiled floor and stared at her with no small displeasure.
"Vanessa." Firmly, folding her arms at two metres' distance, so she could take in all her body language at a glance. For this one, she felt she might require every clue she could get. "You've been snapping at me for the last few months. I want to know why."
"Snapping?" Incredulously. "What, you think you're so infallible, and I'm so even-tempered, that me snappi
ng warrants some kind of emergency? You bruised my arm, damn it!"
"I'm sorry," said Sandy, attempting an even tone. A part of her was damn worried. Frightened, even. Vanessa was the best friend she'd ever had. Doing anything that might jeopardise that friendship was scary on a level that bullets and grenades had never truly reached. That part of her wanted to beg, to plead, to placate or admit to any perceived wrongdoing, just to make things right again. But somehow, with Vanessa, she didn't think that was going to do it.
"I didn't want to say anything before," she continued, "because you know I worry that sometimes I don't understand. I thought I might have misinterpreted ... but then Ari remarked on it himself ..." Vanessa opened her mouth to interrupt, but Sandy overrode her, "... and there's just so much going on, Vanessa, I can't afford to have this hanging over us when things really get serious."
"You can't afford?" with raised-brows irony. "Oh, that's nice to know, I'm pleased you've got our relationship into the right operational perspective."
For the first time, Sandy felt her cool slipping. "Damn it, Ricey ..." She looked aside, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "Okay, I used the wrong word! I said `afford,' as if it were an operational matter, when it's supposed to be emotional ... I do that! It's my upbringing, it's my nature, call it what you will-sometimes I say the wrong fucking thing, and I'd expected better understanding from you than to jump on my head! You know what I meant!"
Vanessa put hands on her hips, and looked down. Scuffed at the spotless tiles with a heavy boot. "Look, what do you want me to say?"
"I don't want you to say anything. I want to know why you've been getting pissed at me." She couldn't help the pleading, imploring note from creeping into her voice. "I mean, I do the wrong thing sometimes. I know I do. If I do something wrong, or if I upset you somehow, I want you to tell me about it. You're the best friend I've ever had, Vanessa, and I ..."
"Look, I ..." Vanessa raised both hands, in extreme frustration, "... I can't tell you now! It's not a good time! In fact, it's the worst possible fucking time I can think of."
"I can't deal with this here, and that out there, at the same time! I'm not good at this kind of thing, I don't want to have to try because I don't know how I'll respond! Now you're not leaving this bathroom until you tell me!"
Vanessa put a hand to her forehead and massaged, as if the pain had become abruptly worse. "Oh God," she muttered, "and I'm full of drugs too ... no, look ..." as she came to a decision, ". . . I can't do this now, Sandy, or I'll say something that'll really fuck things up properly."
She turned to leave. Sandy crossed the space between them in a flash and grabbed her shoulder. Vanessa flashed a blow at that arm, which Sandy caught and immobilised in an unbreakable grip. Vanessa's expression, immediately before her, was desperate.
"Sandy, please! I'm sorry I snapped at you ... my head's screwed up, I'm full of painkillers and I wasn't thinking straight. Just let me go, huh?"
"No."
"Sandy, look, I'm in no state for this ..."
"Just tell me!" With no small degree of desperation herself.
"I can't!"
"Why the fuck not?!"
"Because I'm in love with you, you moron!"
Sandy stared. Opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her grip on Vanessa's arm dissolved. Vanessa pulled her arm free, in agonised exasperation. Turned to go, took one step toward the door, and stopped. Sandy tried desperately to think of something to say. Only one thing came to mind-why does everything always have to be so hard? But somehow, she didn't think that would help very much.
"When you say love ..... she finally managed to venture, "... what ... do you mean, like ..
"Oh shit, what, you want me to repeat myself?" Vanessa made for the door.
"Wait! Wait, wait, wait ..." Sandy hurried after her, grasping Vanessa's uniformed shoulder-Vanessa swung at her arm, Sandy allowing the hard contact if it meant Vanessa was facing her once more ...
"Stop grabbing me!" Vanessa's large, dark eyes were intense with emotion. "Damn it, Sandy, you're such a ... such a ... goddamn stupid meathead sometimes!" I guess I must be, was all Sandy could think in reply. "I mean look at you, all broad shouldered, bulletproof and beautiful ... you know the guys all call you Supergirl? When there's no officers around, it's all `Supergirl says this,' or `Supergirl would have done it that way.' But you really don't have a clue, do you?"
Sandy stared at her in growing desperation. She didn't know what to say. Felt uncertain, suddenly, of the tiled floor beneath her black boots. She glanced frantically about the bathroom in search of some inspiration, something that could assist her. A crutch to lean upon. There was nothing. Vanessa's dark, pain-filled eyes bore into her, shimmering with tears and more frustrated by the second.
"I mean look at you," she continued. "You didn't suspect a thing, did you? Do you see now why I didn't want to say anything? Why I haven't wanted to say anything? Why the hell didn't you listen to me? I'm the one who knows what I'm talking about here!"
She broke off, with a wave of final defeat, and turned once more for the door. Sandy grabbed her, bodily from behind, and restrained her in a tight embrace.
"Oh God, Sandy, stop it!" Vanessa tried to fight, then gave up as she realised the futility. Sandy just held her, not knowing what else to do. If she let go, Vanessa would leave. Somehow, she couldn't let it happen. Vanessa tried reasoning. "Sandy. Sandy? Come on Sandy, let go. I'm a busy girl."
"No."
"No?"
"No. Never."
Vanessa dropped her head with a shuddering sigh. "Look ... Sandy, we can talk about this later, now isn't a good ..."
"Why does ..." and Sandy broke off in distress, unable to find the words. "Why does it have to matter? I mean fuck ... I love you too, Ricey, I love you so ..."
"It's not the same thing!"
"Isn't it?" Desperately. "We love each other, we're together all the time ...
"Jesus Christ, Sandy, to you of all people I shouldn't have to explain about the birds and the bees!"
"What, it's just sex? Fuck it, Vanessa ... it's just sex! It doesn't mean anything-it's fun, it's great to share with someone you love, or even like, but why the hell does it matter if we don't have sex?"
"It just does, okay! Look, for fuck's sake, let go!"
"No!"
"I won't run away! I promise, I'm not Cinderella and it's nowhere near my bedtime, now let go!" Sandy released her, and Vanessa turned on her, fuming. "It's ... look, just listen very carefully, you poor, backward little army bumpkin, because I'm only going to explain this once. I'm bisexual. That doesn't just mean tits-and-arse gets me wet, you understand? It's a genetic, psychological disposition, Sandy. It means falling in love, and that's something ... far beyond a little recreational screwing. Am I making sense to you here?"
"What, you're saying you think you have a monopoly on love in this relationship?" Sandy retorted indignantly. She jabbed a finger at Vanessa's chest. "I will challenge you on that! How the hell would you know if you love me more than I love you? You're not me, you can't know how I feel!"
"Oh, no." Vanessa almost laughed in despair, putting both hands over her face. "I just died and woke up in a bad science fiction movie. I can't believe I'm trying to explain to an android what love is. You don't even understand the distinction."
"An android?" Now she was upset. Vanessa never called her that. "Is that how you think of me?"
"Have you ever been in love, Sandy?" Vanessa challenged, ignoring that question. "Think really, really hard." Sandy just stared at her. "All the men you've slept with, and God knows it's a lot ... did one of them ever leap out at you as special? Did you ever find yourself obsessing about him? Wanting to be near him, for no particular reason?"
"I was never around men like that, Ricey! They were either fellow GIs, all of whom were lower designation and didn't think like I did, or they were straights-usually officers-who always kept me at arm's length. I never had the chance, I never met the r
ight kind of guy ... and besides, it's all a goddamned conditioned social response anyway!"
"Oh bullshit..."
"It is too! I swear to you, if you'd been brought up in a society where sex was commonplace recreation and no one ever got jealous, you'd be like that too!"
Vanessa folded her arms firmly, shaking her head. "They did something to you, Sandy. Something in the foundational tape, or something in the brain structure, I don't know. Damn it, you see why I didn't want to bring this up?"
"Did something to me?" Sandy's head was spinning. She wasn't used to living on this level of her emotional spectrum for any length of time. She felt like someone afraid of heights, leaning on the rooftop railing of a mega-high-rise. "Did something to me how? You're saying that ... that somehow, because I don't think like you, it must be because I'm an ... an android?"
"Do you love Ari?"
"Do I love Ari? What the hell kind of a question is that? Of course I love Ari ... I love you too, although you seem to be having a real hard time believing it ..."
"Do you find yourself daydreaming about him?" Vanessa was pressing it home hard, now. She was like a predator with a fresh kill when she got like this, Sandy knew, having seen it inflicted upon others from time to time. Being now the target herself made her extremely nervous, on top of her other disorientations. "Does the very thought of him make your insides feel all gooey? Do your knees feel weak when he approaches? Does a kiss feel like heaven? Do you impatiently count the seconds until you can see him again?"
Unexpectedly, Sandy felt tears spring to her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was tight with new emotion. "That's not fair," she said. They both knew what she was like. Vanessa knew better than anyone Sandy's focus, her unerring concentration, her rigid mental compartmentalisation. It was a part of her psychology, the foundational fabric of the very person that she was. "That's your definition of love. I'm different to you. Just because it doesn't hit me like it does you, that doesn't ... it doesn't give you any right to say ..."
Killswitch: A Cassandra Kresnov Novel (v1.1) Page 29
