Silver Night's Fiction

Conversations on the Utopian Ideal: Thirty Two

2011-11-17T01:44:00.001-08:00

First Technician (Neuroengineering) Lieutenant Kentanen Tashotsu spun on his stool idly. “Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“I’m not paid to think,” Lab Four Lead (Neuroengineering) Padrah Erbamait said. “And neither are you.”

“That’s exactly what we’re both paid to do, Pad,” Kentanen said. “Think.”

Padrah flicked the viewer to another experimental study, this one from a private Federation research institution she remembered from the minor scandal surrounding its sudden closure and the arrest of most of its staff for ‘ethical violations’. “Not about weird,” she said. “We’re paid to think about how to give Captain Night what he wants.”

“Which is weird.”

“Void’s sake, Ken. He’s a pod pilot. You were expecting normal when you signed on?”

“Have you ever even heard of anything like this, though?”

Sighing, Padrah pushed the viewer away and turned. “Sure. There’s plenty of VR games and infotainment about the capsule. Even TCMC enhanced for a fully immersive experience.”

Kentanen shook his head. “Games. Recordings.”

“Recordings, transmissions, what’s the difference?”

“Input only, Pad. Those are all input only.”

“So is this,” she said. “Mostly. It’s not like Captain Night wants Dr Toin plugged into the ship’s systems. Not that it would be possible if he did. Just a buffered re-transmit of the signals coming into the pod and what’s basically a comm link.”

“Basically …”

“A very sophisticated comm link, yes.” Padrah shrugged. “Not much more sophisticated than a really good neocom implant with VR capability. There’s a bit of difference, yes, with the type of output, given her existing … wiring. But that’s all.”

Kentanen spun on his stool again. “We hook those receivers she’s got to translate the feedback from her assistance device up to a transmission from the pod systems, she’ll be able to feel the ship.”

“In an attenuated and limited way.”

“And we link the output that usually goes to her holoprojectors to the capsule, he’ll be able to see
her thoughts.”

“A projection of signals from her visual cortex.” Padrah stuck out a foot and stopped the stool spinning. “Which it’s our job to make happen, so let’s do it, huh?”

Kentanen leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You know, I heard Captain Night uses antimicrobe nanites every time he shakes someone’s hand.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” Kentanen shrugged. “I just think it makes all this weird.”

“Because?”

“Because I never thought I’d see the day that Captain Night asked us to find a way to let someone else plug into his brain.”

"If only you’d never thought, full stop, we might actually get this done." Padrah pointed at his work station, "Those studies aren't reviewing themselves."

"Yeah, yeah. Back to it." Kentanen spun reluctantly back to his viewer, "Hey Pad..."

"Yes, Ken?"

"I heard that Dr. Toin is some kind of Sansha experiment. That's why Captain Night stole her from Ishukone."

"How would that even-" Padrah shook her head, "That doesn't make any sense Ken. If she was a Sansha experiment, why would Ishukone have had her. Unlike whatever brain-dead security grunt you heard that from, you know what's in her head. It's a little unusual but it isn't Sansha."

"What if what we're doing will be the set up for it, though, Pad?" he pressed. “You know, you’veheard the stories. Sansha turning people into Titan pilots overnight. They haveto have some way to link ordinary people into pod systems.”

“So?”

“So what if this is it?Or a testfor it, a trial, maybe.” He leaned towards her again. “You knowCaptain Night used to be – ”

Padrah slapped her hand flat on her desk. “Usedto be, yeah, I know, I workedhere back when he was, unlike you, Ken. And none of us ended up with chips in our heads or wires sprouting out of our nostrils thenso I don’t see it suddenly happening now.” She pushed the key for the next article with enough energy to wring a strangled bleepfrom the viewer. “So stop listening to stupid Sansha ghost stories down at the guard post. You knowWemer only tells them to creep people out.”

“Yeah, I guess. Captain doesn’t seemlike the type to go chipping people.” He paused, then added slyly, “Especially not Dr Toin.”

“Why especially notDr Toin?” Padrah asked in spite of herself.

“Oh, come on. They spend hours together in his office, I heard from Gia down on F-Deck, she’s right down the hall from there. With the door closed. Talking about shield efficiency, I’m sure. And mathematics.” Kentanen’s tone made it clear how implausible he found the idea.

“You think …?”

“Well, he’s still human, isn’t he?”

“It’s kind of hard to imagine …” Padrah said doubtfully. “Captain Night.”

“Maybe they’re not. Maybe they do talk about algebra and he’s like those pilots you hear about, you know, the ones with the special ordersat the Pleasure Hubs. The low-secPleasure Hubs. Maybe that’sthe reason we’re based here, so the Captain can go out at night and – “

Kentanen’s expression froze at the same moment Padrah felt something touch her calf, a soft inquisitive snuffling.

That, she realised, is Colonel Teirild’s creepy little pet.

Which means Colonel Teirild …

“I take it your report for the Captain is ready,” Colonel Teirild said from directly behind Padrah. “And you’re fully prepared to begin work on the interface adjustments he requires.”

Kentanen, the bastard, looked at Padrah.

“Not, ah … as such, Colonel,” Padrah said.

“Then perhaps,” Colonel Tierild said, “ You should concentrate your attention on that?”

“Yes, sir!” Padrah and Kentanen chorused.

"Good." The security CO turned on her heel and walked away, her weird little big-eared creature trotting along after her.

Padrah bent back to her viewer.

"Hey Pad."

"Yes, Ken?"

"You hear what they say about Colonel Teirild?"

Conversations in Vourassi: Thirty One

2011-06-28T19:03:00.000-07:00

Vuorrassi V – Moon 13 – Ishukone Corporation Factory

Security personnel were not an unusual sight in the corridors of the Ishukone Corporation station that kept measured and deliberate orbit around the thirteenth moon of the fifth planet in Vuorrassi. These men and women, however, were not in Ishukone uniforms, and that was enough to earn a few second glances from those they passed.

Second glances, and then stares, when curious glances fell on the man they so discreetly and alertly shadowed.

Security without Ishukone colours might be rare, but pod pilots on the loose in the station corridors were unheard of.

Capsuleers were … well, every one of the Ishukone citizens who paused and turned and gawked had their own opinions on what capsuleers were.

Dangerous. Crazy. Wealthy.

Ghosts. Madmen.

Gods.

This capsuleer, Captain Silver Night, did not look to be any of those, except perhaps wealthy, to those close enough to see the expensive cut and dull lustre of a suit far too polite to announce its cost above a whisper. If he noticed the stares, he gave no sign of it as he walked down the station's corridors, absentmindedly following the directions his implants threw up on his field of view.

There is a certain comfort being home.

Of course, this wasn't a station he'd ever been on before, but he was back in the State, and it was an Ishukone station, and that was close enough.

He focused on business as he approached his destination. One of many labs in that section, it was bigger than some and smaller than many. The front room hummed with the harmonics of the shield tech operating further back in the complex, and with a quiet but intense concentration.

Even if he had not been expected, his reputation with the corporation was more than sufficient to ensure his access.

But he was expected, and after the usual routine pleasantries was navigating the narrower corridors leading back into the lab proper.

If his internal neocom had not provided him with the layout and directions, he would still have been able to locate the room he sought from the raised voice audible some distance down the hall.

“Then pay attention,” Dr Nolikka Toin said sharply to someone who replied in a lower voice, words indistinct but tone placating.

Dr Toin was clearly not placated. “It's Spirits-damned obvious to anyone with half a brain. Look, just go and work it out. I have work to do, I can’t hold your hand every minute of the day.”

A shaken-looking young man exited the lab hastily. Silver gave him a pleasant smile and received a slightly terrified stare in response before the scientist hurried away up the corridor.

As always, he called Dr Toin from outside the lab. As always, she assured him that he was not interrupting. Only after receiving that assurance did he open the door.

It was not a large room, even as far as rooms on stations in general, and laboratories for theoretical research in particular, tended to run. Utilitarian grey walls and floor, a terminal – not the latest tech, Silver noted – with a hard-wired connection snaking a very busy IK111 supercomputer, a stool, and little else besides the scientist standing beside the terminal, one hand resting on the keyboard.

Dr Toin turned towards Silver as he stepped inside, and they exchanged the usual professional courtesies.

Silver was dismayed to hear her explain the difficulties she was facing with her project: a new team, inexperienced colleagues. She didn’t mention the deficiencies in equipment, and nor would Silver have expected an Ishukone scientist to make such a complaint to someone who was, as he sometimes still needed to remind himself, an outsider, but those he could see for himself.

Could see, too, that the corporation had not done perhaps all it could to provide a conducive working environment. Noises from the hallway – people passing, an inquiry called from one room to another – clearly disrupted Dr Toin’s concentration.

“Have you had …” he started, and then paused. “That is, do you have everything you need, Dr Toin?”

“The corporation has been very generous with us all, Captain,” she said.

He looked at her folded arms, knuckles white, and then around at the lab again. "The discussion we had before you left stands, Dr. Toin."

“Captain,” she said softly, and then stopped. “This is where the corporation believes I belong.”

“It just seems as though, ah, your work might progress more quickly in a more..." Silver paused for a moment, trying different words in his head, "An environment that better fosters the concentration your work requires.”

“The station is - I'd forgotten how much noise there is, on a station,” she said. “How many people. I would wish there was somewhere a little quieter, though. From time to time”

Somewhere on the station. Somewhere calmer. “Have you tried the hydroponics bay? It isn't entirely quiet, but it is a different sort of noise.”

“I’ll have to find it,” she said, with what seemed like genuine interest.

“I could, perhaps, show you where it is.” The words were out before Silver realized it. Of course, it is probably much more convenient for her, if someone can act as a guide. It only makes sense. He hastened to add, “If there's a convenient time, for you.”

“That would be most kind,” Dr Toin said. “I would not want to delay you, though.”

“My time at the moment is my own, it would be no delay.” He hesitated as he turned toward the door. “Would it be simpler if you took my arm? For navigational purposes?"

"It, ah. Would, yes."

Dr Toin moved easily beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm, as they left the lab complex.

The corridors of the station were crowded as ever, and though Silver’s security kept a small buffer of clear space around him, there was nothing they could do about the hum and hubbub of thousands of voices, of footsteps, of people.

As they made small talk about Dr Toin’s assignment to the station, about her family, her discomfort with the crowds was barely noticeable, her voice steady, if at times so soft Silver had to stoop a little to hear it. Extraordinary self-control.

They reached the hydrobay, with its rows and rows of tightly packed plants stretching towards the ceiling. As a child, those walls of green had seemed to tower up forever, and as he looked up past the gently waving leaves Silver half expected to see three small faces looking down at them from the catwalk above, Jan, Ami and Val escaping from the supervisors for a snatched half-hour in their shared secret garden.

Or hear Jan’s voice. Ancestors, man, it’s been an age …

But there was just the hiss of the sprinklers, the faint gurgle of the drip-irrigation system, the quiet whir of pumps.

He realized he had been silent for several moments, and turned to Dr Toin. “Here it, um, is.”

And then he realized it wouldn’t have mattered to her how long he’d been silent. She was smiling faintly, one hand outstretched to brush the leaves of the plant nearest her, reminding him of the way she’d reached out to trail her fingers through the holographic equations dancing around the Ideal’s lab the last time he had seen her.

She moved further down the row of plants, to the arm’s length limit of the hand that still rested on his sleeve, and Silver took a step towards her and reminded himself to stay close. “I’ve always found these places … “ He paused, finding the right word. “Calming.”

“It’s beautiful,” Dr Toin said quietly. “Almost like not being on a station at all. It must look like – like a garden?”

“Very much like a garden,” Silver agreed. He described the walls of green for her, the plants stretching far above both their heads, identified the different varieties as well as he could. Perhaps she could envision it: she had, it turned out, spent time on a planet. One with an awful lot of sky, she said with gentle amusement, and weather, a reaction much as his own had been the first time he had dropped into a gravity well.

“How did you know it would be – ” She paused. “How did you know it was here?”

“This station is similar to the one I was born on.” As Dr Toin leaned forward to inhale the scent of the plants, Silver found himself adding, “My creche-mates and I used to sneak off to the hydro-bay. My brother became a hydro-engineer. He was a supervisor, had his own bay."

“What does he do now?” she asked.

“There was an accident,” Silver said. “He’s no longer with us.”

Dr Toin was still for a few seconds. “I’m very sorry,” she said. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“It was a long time ago,” Silver said.

“Does it get … easier?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. Easier.” The sprinklers hissed softly and Silver felt he should be honest. “It doesn’t ever go away, though.”

“There are people … “ Her voice trailed away to silence for a moment. “People you think … nothing can divide you. And then ... when something does. You keep running up against the nonsense of dividing by zero having actually happened. Like walking into a wall that wasn't there yesterday.”

“It does … it takes time. Fitting something like that in.” Silver said. “It does happen, though, Dr Toin.” He cleared his throat. “What does, ah. What does your sister do?”

Applied electronics, was the answer, a lab manager in the same system. With a young son, Dr Toin’s nephew, just a little older than Jan and Madlen. She was telling Silver about him when her comm chimed: a call from the lab. She was needed back there.

“Do you – “ Silver said. “That is, shall I walk back with you?”

“Thank you,” she said. “I can usually remember the way, once I've been somewhere. But it's not the same in reverse, you know? Finding one's way back is harder than it seems.”

“Yes,” Silver said. “I've experienced that myself.”

As they left the hydrobay, Silver again choosing a route that kept them, as far as possible, out of the more crowded areas of the station, Dr Toin’s smile vanished. Still, her careful self-control seemed to take less effort than it had. If the corporation cannot provide the environment most conducive to concentration at this time, at least there will be an alternative for her.

They reached the lab complex and he stopped.

Dr Toin stopped with him. “Thank you, Captain,” she said. “I’m glad your business allowed you time to visit.”

“As am I,” Silver said. “I hope your research goes well, and I look forward to seeing the results.”

Her hand dropped from his arm. “I will make sure to keep you informed.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

She hesitated a moment longer, and then, with a quiet “Travel safely, Captain Night,” turned and was gone.

As he made his way back to the hangars, Silver wondered if an alternative would be enough to allow Dr Toin to complete her work. Perhaps the corporation could be encouraged to move a little faster.

There was more than one Ishukone agent always ready to take a call from Captain Silver Night. Indeed, one at this very station. Silver made the connection with a thought.

“Mr Iwahari. I hope I find you well? I have a research matter to raise with you …”

[OOC] Silver's Second Annual Fiction Contest (Billions in Prizes!)

2011-02-27T12:36:00.000-08:00

Today I'm kicking off my Second Annual Fiction Contest!

Check it out Here.

Prizes include 4 faction battleships!

Friends: Part 4

2011-01-10T18:00:00.000-08:00

Saer nodded toward the pictures on the wall, "It must be expensive, sending your son to private school."

Bjerd's expression tightened, and she didn't glance at the pictures, "Yes."

"You knew it wouldn't last forever. Not with Tidjias running it. If I had a way for you to come out from the other side of this in the clear and still earning would you be interested?" Saer smiled, "And you'd probably never have to see me again."

Bjerd hesitated, then nodded.

* * *

Tani Akell followed Saer through the duct. "Are we going to find Tidjias?"

Saer didn't look over her shoulder, or slow her crawl through the grimy metal tube, "Stay quiet until we're out of here."

Tani scowled, her feet rattling against the panels with enough noise to make Saer wince. Her clan teaches traditional things, isn't moving quietly one of those?

At the exit panel, Saer stopped and motioned for Tani to be still and quiet. The shadow of the patrolling guard passed the slats of the vent, and Saer counted out thirty seconds under her breath - enough time for the guard to turn at the next corner. She popped the vent cover off and slid out of the vent, dropping the few feet to the ground. She waited for Tani to tumble out, then carefully fitted the cover back on the duct.

Tani had recovered and was dusting herself off. Saer jerked her head toward the nearby industrial buildings, "Come on. Walk."

Saer walked purposefully, but not too quickly, away from the Maintenance facility. Tani followed, peppering Saer with questions. "Where are we going? Are we going to get Tidjias? Are we going to the police?"

What is it with this family and all the questions? Saer put a few blocks behind them and then stopped and turned on her. "What happened?"

"What happened?" Tani put her hands on her hips indignantly. "They hit me and tied me up!"

"After you what? Walked up and told them you knew they were stealing parts?" Saer asked dryly.

"No, of course not."

Saer started towards the motel again, keeping her pace at a casual stroll, two friends on their way home from an evening out. "What did you do, then? That made them suspicious?"

"I told them I knew how they could not get caught." Tani said, overtaking Saer and then slowing to match her pace. "They weren't even grateful!"

How is someone this naive even still breathing? "You expected them to be grateful?" Saer asked. "You let them know that you knew."

"You told me to find a way to make myself useful to them," Tani said. "How were they going to know I was useful if I didn't tell them?"

"Groups like that don't usually like someone coming from the outside and announcing 'I know what you're doing, and why don't you do a better job of it?'"

Tani deflated a bit. "Oh."

"You have to do it a bit at a time, Tani."

"Oh," Tani said again. She scowled. "So what do I do now?"

"It's up to you," Saer said. She paused as a group passed them, the worse for alcohol. One made a slurred, lewd suggestion to Tani and the girl clenched her fists. Saer grabbed her arm and gave the man a hard stare, cold as the void. He was sober enough to take the warning, and stumbled on with his friends.

Saer let Tani go as they moved away and said "Do you still want to be a mechanic there? If we got rid of some people?"

"Yes, but they do have to stop, or change anyway," Tani said. "There's going to be a crash, if they keep going how they are. Did you hear what that guy said to me?"

"Don't get distracted," Saer advised her. "I talked to one of them, on that crew. He mentioned there was someone in small parts who would be easy to work with. If she was in charge. do you know who he was talking about?"

"Yeah," Tani said. She jerked her thumb back in the direction they'd come from. "We just tied her up."

"Okay," Saer said. "Well, here's what we can do. We can go to the police and they'll shut down the whole department. They may or may not get everyone involved. You may or may not have a shot at a job there. It might stay exclusively Sebbie. That's one option. Or we do nothing. They probably won't go after you if they don't hear from the police after a little while. We have a copy of the evidence now. We put it in a safe place. That's what's called insurance. If they go after you, we can always release it."

"We can't do nothing," Tani said decisively. "They're using bad parts."

Saer had heard that tone of voice before, over years on ships and stations. It was the voice of an engineer or a mechanic whose professional standards had been affronted, and it was the end of that line of discussion.

Saer nodded, "Alright. There's a third option, too. We can find out who controls that department. We can offer them a deal: Either we go to the press with the evidence and they look incompetent or corrupt, or we give them a copy, and they use it to clean up the department. Getting rid of the people we want them to get rid of, and seeing that they are the ones that get tossed to the police. We make a deal with Bjerd - she gets to be the new boss, and in exchange she supports the internal housecleaning, and hires you afterward."

"What do you think we should do? Hiri would say go straight to the police." Tani went on. She snorted. "Like they helped her."

"I think we should find out who has oversight of that department," Saer said. "Offer them the deal."

Tani nodded decisively. "Okay. I have the department staff chart and contact list, we can - "

Plenty of drive. Now if she just manages to live long enough to get some experience. Saer reached out and grabbed the back of Tani's shirt as she started down the street. "Right now, we need to go check on your sister. Then we'll need to talk to Bjerd and make sure the authorities find- "

Tani stopped. "Hiri? What's wrong with Hiri?"

No point sugar-coating it. "When we were asking questions, one of the people found her. Beat her up."

"Beat her up? Hiri? How bad? Is she okay?"

"She seems ok." Saer watched Tani's reaction carefully and filed it away.

"Seems okay? Is she okay, though?"

"She was fine when I left," Saer said. She had already started walking again, "Are you coming?"

Tani scrambled to catch up.

* * *

"Good. I'm going to put the gun away. Don't do anything stupid." Saer watched Bjerd carefully as she tucked the pistol away. "Right about now, the director of operations for the shuttleport is calling a press conference. He's going to announce that an internal investigation has revealed a parts theft ring and that the perpetrators are being taken into custody."

"That's why you wanted what was on my terminal." A note of bitterness crept into Bjerd's voice, "How does getting arrested help me?"

"You won't be arrested. You're going to be promoted."

* * *

The streets near the motel were run down, the only windows without bars over them were the ones that were boarded up. Saer was relieved to see that even Tani seemed to be paying attention to their surroudnings. At least she isn't entirely oblivious.

"You know," she said, "Next time you see an... opportunity, you can give me a call first. I can give you some advice. You can still get hurt if you screw up. Even dealing with half-assed operations like this one."

Tani said "Like the advice about insurance?"

"Yes," Saer said. "You have to make sure it is always riskier getting rid of you than keeping you around."

Tani said soberly. "They talked about killing me. But they couldn't work out how to get the body off the shuttleport"

"Lucky for you," Saer said. "These are the kind of situations where people play for keeps, Tani. And people will panic and do stupid things when they're cornered, so if you decide to corner someone, make sure they don't have those options. Better to ease them into things, though, and not corner them at all"

"How do you do that?" Tani asked.

Saer considered how to compress a lifetime's experience into something Tani would understand. "Keep your eyes open, and your mouth shut. Make sure if you find things out, you keep a copy somewhere with instructions in case something happens to you. Be useful, but not loud about it. Be trustworthy and reliable. Take some initiative, but don't, for example, demand that someone change their whole operation because you know better. Help them make money, and again, show that you keep your mouth shut. Of course, it's a bit late for that in this particular case."

Tani frowned. "So I did it wrong?"

"Yes," Saer said. "Actually, it's possible it might have worked, if you'd had insurance. But usually just going right for the throat like that isn't the best way, even if it is quick. If you're using that kind of leverage, they're not going to trust you. It's a last resort if you're talking about the people you're going to be working with directly. It's more useful with superiors or people in a position to help you."

Tani studied Saer, and asked thoughtfully. "Do you do this a lot?"

"I used to," Saer said.

"Before you became a soldier?"

Saer shrugged as they reached the motel. "This is it."

Tani hurried inside. Saer overtook her and showed her the way to the room, Before, she thought, the girl starts knocking on doors at random.

Both sisters exclaimed at the sight of the other, Hiri with relief, Tani in horror at Hiri's bruises. Saer interrupted what promised to become a full explanation carried out in the hallway and herded them both inside.

"You look awful," Tani said frankly. "We should get you home, Uncle Husvard should look at you, who was it? Who hit you?"

"One of the people from maintenance," Saer said. "I've already discussed things with him. He was very co-operative."

Tani Akell turned to Saer "You didn't let him go, did you?"

Saer shrugged "He was still tied up when I left. Why? What do you want to do with him?"

Tani narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists.

"Tani," Hiri said with gentle reproach.

Tani looked at Hiri and then said to Saer, "What he did to my sister. To start."

"Why?" Saer asked.

Tani asked incredulously, "What do you mean, why? Look at her!"

Saer looked at Hiri, then back at Tani, "She took a beating, yeah. So? What would be the purpose of doing more to him?"

Hiri took one of Tani's hands and uncurled her fist. "It wouldn't serve any purpose, Tani, you know that."

Tani scowled, but didn't voice any disagreement.

Saer nodded, "She's right. If you're going to hurt someone, you should have a reason. Making a point, getting information, making an example. He already gave up the information we needed, and I don't think we need an example, at least not yet."

Hiri eyed Saer, "I don't think that's exactly what I meant."

Saer shrugged. "It's just practical. If they take another shot at you, we might need to make an example. I'll use whoever they send, though. In the mean time, no need to make things any messier."

Hiri said to Tani, "You're all right, that's all that matters. You are all right? They didn't hurt you?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Tani said. "They pushed me around a bit but that's all."

I should say something. What would someone say in one of those holo-shows? Saer frowned for a moment, "I'm glad that you're both alright."

"Okay, well," Hiri said, "Let's get you out of here. We'll get you home and call the police, okay?"

"I'll take care of the police," Saer said firmly. "Make sure that their investigation is focused efficiently. It's important they get the right people."

Tani opened her mouth, looked at Saer, and closed it again. A miracle, Saer thought.
"You take care of Tani," Saer said. "I'm sure that everyone will want to hear about what happened. And then perhaps it might be a good idea for her to visit her big sister in space for a little while, while everything settles down here."

* * *

"Promoted?" Bjerd frowned, "Promoted to what? Head janitor?"

"No, I think that's still a Vherokior job." Bjerd stared at Saer a bit blankly. Guess it wasn't that funny. "Head of maintenance. Tidjias's job. I understand there is a healthy pay raise involved."

"But Tidjias will-"

"Tidjias, and several of his cronies, are going to be in prison. For quite a while." Saer's smile was chilly, "I understand that when it comes to interfering with flight safety, the penalties can be severe."

"Okay. Yeah." Bjerd took a deep breath, "You said you'd help me, and I'd help you. What would you want me to do?"

"Nothing, for now. Forget about that kick Tani gave you - youthful enthusiasm. Don't share what really happened with anyone. Make the department run the way it should."

Bjerd nodded, shifting in her seat, "That's not all, though, is it?"

"Tani. If she still wants it, give her a job. Make sure that she doesn't take the heat for what happened, either. You don't want me having to come back here."

"I think I can do that. That can't be everything." Bjerd looked like someone bracing herself to sell her soul. "What else do I have to do?"

Well, at least she seems committed to the idea. Either the private school, or the imported soap, must be even more expensive than I thought.

Saer shook her head, "No, think that's everything." She stood up.

"That's- Then why did you do all this?"

Saer didn't bother answering as she left the apartment.

* * *

As the shuttle hurtled down the runway and lifted into the air, Tani leaned forward eagerly, face pressed against the window. Hiri leaned back in her seat, holding an icepack against the side of her face. Her bruises had reached their full glory over night, and whatever 'Uncle Husvard' had had to offer, it hadn't been close to professional medical care.

Saer had gone so far as to consider a hospital or at least a doctor who could be bribed, but they'd be back on station in a few hours.

She flipped through the holo-catalogue from the seat pocket in front of her, wondering if people really needed self-heating pen holders, and glancing up occasionally to make sure the Akell sisters hadn't been able to get into any more trouble. It was hard to imagine what they could find, seatbelts fastened and with Saer in the aisle seat, but you can never be too careful.

Hiri opened her eyes as Saer glanced up. "Saer?"

Saer closed the catalog and looked over, "Yes?"

Hiri said carefully, "Some of those things you said to Tani ... I'm not sure if those are the best things for her to be hearing, at her age."

"What would you prefer?" Saer asked with genuine curiosity.

"I know that, with what happened to you, it must seem as if the world works in certain ways," Hiri said. "Sometimes it seems to me as if you have a ... utilitarian view towards people you don't know."

Saer considered that. "I try to be practical," she ventured.

Hiri nodded, and winced at the movement. "But being practical isn't the only thing in life."

Saer could tell from Hiri's tone that this was one of those times when the blandly mundane words were supposed to convey a far more complex message than she could decrypt. She settled for a nod. "Of course it isn't."

Hiri paused. "The advice you gave Tani, last time we were here, and today ... I know you meant well."

"Well," Saer said. "I hope she can benefit from my experience."

"I know you do," Hiri said. "But I think perhaps the lessons of your experience might not be the best ones for Tani to learn."

"Why not?" Saer asked.

Hiri said gently "Saer, do you ever think about the ways there are difference between how you look at things and how other people do? Me, for example?"

"Yes."

"What differences do you see, when you do that?"

Saer eyed Hiri carefully and chose her words precisely. "You believe that people in authority are there to help. For example."

Hiri nodded. "I know that when 'authority' is the people keeping you as a slave, that's not what it feels like. I do know that, Saer. But that experience, it's exceptional. It's not a good guide to the rest of the Cluster."

"I've been on both sides of that line, being subject to authority, and being in authority, Hiri." Saer said patiently, "I've been other things a lot longer than I was ever a slave. I don't think my experience with it is exceptional at all."

"Do you think your perceptions are in line with other people's perceptions?" Hiri asked.

Saer shrugged. "What about you? What are your perceptions, based on your experiences relying on authorities?"

"That individuals in positions of authority are as variable as individuals in any walk of life," Hiri said. "In good and bad ways, but that the structures that give a community order are important."

"I agree," Saer said.

"Yes," Hiri said. "But I think that what Tani understood from your advice wasn't exactly that."

"Well, she did bite off a bit more than she could chew, there," Saer said. "Very enthusiastic. I did try to impress on her that it was a serious situation, and to be more cautious."

"Yes," Hiri said. "Um. Saer. That's not exactly what I meant. I don't think it's a good idea for Tani to think that the only thing she did wrong there was being 'enthusiastic'."

Saer nodded. "What do you think she did wrong?"

"She should have gone directly to the police when she found out what was going on," Hiri said.

Saer nodded again. "And what do you think would have happened then?"

"The police would have investigated," Hiri said, "and there would have been arrests and and investigation and so on, but that's not the point. The point is, it would have been the right thing to do."

"Even if it got your sister hurt worse?" Saer asked.

"You can't just take things into -" Hiri paused. "Well, you can. You can take things into your own hands, Saer, and you have, I understand that. But it hurts Tani is a different way to think that's how it should work. Do you understand?"

Saer considered. "So, it would have been better to go to the police, and risk them being paid off or bungling it, allowing them to go after Tani for talking? I don't disagree that there are many situations where the police are an excellent resource, Hiri. I prefer to be as careful as possible, though."

Hiri said "I understand that you believe things are best handled in a certain way, yes. But that is not the way I think they're best handled or the way I want my sister to grow up believing they're best handled."

"So, it's most important to do the right thing?"

"Yes," Hiri said. "It's most important to do the right thing." She added gently, "I know that sometimes it might be hard for you to see what the right thing is."

"Well, I appreciate you explaining things to me. Is that true even when it's a choice between what you think the right thing is, and something that will keep people close to you from getting hurt?"

"That's what we call an ethical dilemma," Hiri said.

"And doing the right thing wins by default?" Saer smiled slightly, and shook her head "I've never worked for anyone that was really interested in teaching a lot of ethics."

"Sometimes people make the right choice, sometimes the wrong one, in these situations," Hiri said. "But a lot of the people who end up talking to someone like me are there because they made the wrong choice and they don't know how to live with it. I don't want Tani to grow up making the wrong choices."

"Do you think I made the wrong choice in not calling the police to begin with?"

"I think you made the best choice you knew how to make," Hiri said carefully, "but I think it might have been better to go straight to the police, yes."

There is so much to try and understand. So much that makes no sense at all, but people really believe it. Saer thought. All she said was, "Well, hopefully it won't come up again."

Hiri nodded, and winced again. "Hopefully. But I'd really appreciate it if you remembered, talking to Tani, that it's important to me that she doesn't get the wrong idea about things. And remember that when you're giving her advice."

Saer nodded. "I will remember."

Hiri smiled. "Thank you. Please don't think I don't appreciate everything you've done."

Saer smiled. "Well. What are friends for."

Friends: Part 3

2011-01-09T18:00:00.000-08:00

The apartment door opened and light spilled in. The woman stepped inside and quickly shut the door. She walked toward the center of the room, throwing her purse on the couch, "Lights."

As the lights came up Saer moved, sliding over to stand in front of the door and pointing her weapon, "Hello, Bjerd."

The woman spun around.

* * *

The motel room bathroom was cramped, and Saer could see various animal life scatter as she dragged her prisoner in and wedged him into the tiny shower stall, chair and all. He glared at her over the gag while she searched his maintenance jumpsuit.

He had an ID, a residence passcard, a couple of security passes for the shuttleport, and some cash. She pocketed everything except the ID. That she held up in front of him, "I have your name, Snallfur. That means I can find you whenever I want. I own you. Understand?"

The prisoner - Snallfur - nodded.

Saer went on, "You have a family? Girlfriend? Most people have someone they care about. I can find them too. If I care. Make sure I don't have a reason to care, so I don't have to stay on this piece of shit planet any longer than I have to."

Snallfur nodded reluctantly, eyes on Saer wary.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me about the Vherry girl, and your friend Tidjias?"

He considered, then nodded again. Saer removed his gag, and he spoke without hesitation, "They keep their stuff in a room, at the shuttleport. The stuff they keep, off the manifests."

"Maintenance area?" Saer asked.

"Yeah." Snallfur hesitated, then added, "And the only way out is to walk out, you know? So she walked out, or she's still on the shuttleport."

"You can describe where, exactly, this room is. First, though, are there any other ways into maintenance other than the main checkpoint?"

He nodded, "Where the parts come in, loading bay. At the back."

"Good. And the room where they keep their stuff?"

Snallfur described the location of the small room, not far from the loading dock. Saer committed it to memory. When he finished, she said, "Thank you. You've been very helpful."

He must have been getting some of his spine back, because he glared at her. Remind him what I'll do if he fucks with me? Saer considered, No. No need, nearly finished with him.

What she said was, "Last thing, your friend Tidjias, anything else you can tell me about him?"

"Don't cross him. He's mean. Holds a grudge. Likes things his own way."

"Is his second more flexible?" Saer asked.

"Dumb." Snallfur shook his head, "Like a slaver hound. Dumb and vicious."

Saer pursed her lips, "Pretend that I work for the Cartel, and I wanted to find someone reasonable in management, there. Just how many people would I have to eliminate before they were in charge?"

Snallfur snorted, "Maybe ... five? There's a girl in the small parts division, has her head screwed on. Smart. Scared though."

Five isn't so many. Saer smiled thinly, "Well, thank you again for your help."

* * *

"What-" The words died as the woman - Bjerd - saw the gun, and who was holding it. She asked more quietly, "What do you want?"

Saer nodded at one of the chairs, "Sit down. I'm here to talk to you, Bjerd."

* * *

When Saer left the bathroom, careful to close the door behind her, Hiri was sitting on the bed, looking more alert. Saer grabbed a bottle of water from a bag in the corner and offered it to Hiri, "How're you feeling?"

Hiri sipped it, "Better. I think. My head is killing me. What happened?" Another sip, "I remember the shuttle landing, and then ..." Hiri shrugged, then winced at the new bruises the motion tugged at.

"We asked some questions. Too many, apparently." Saer gestured to indicate Hiri's injuries, "One of the people involved beat you up."

"Questions? About Tani?" At Saer's nod, she went on, "If they... She really is in trouble, isn't she?"

"Looks that way."

Hiri began to fumble in her pocket, "I'll call the police."

This again. What have the cops ever done for anybody? Saer held her hand out in a placating gesture, "Police start showing up, they might panic. And we don't have any real evidence."

Hiri stopped, "Panic?"

"Yes." Saer nodded toward the bathroom, "I questioned one of them. I have an idea of where they might be keeping her."

"Is she all right, do you know, is she all right?" Hiri tried to get up and sank back with a groan.

Saer hesitated. Contact. They say contact is important. She reached out and gently touched Hiri's arm, "You stay. I'm going to go and either find her, or find out where she is."

"What can I do?" Hiri looked out of her depth. "Call someone? Do something?"

"Stay here. If I get her out, I'll send her here."

Hiri nodded.

"There's some water and protein bars in the bag. First aid stuff, too, if you need it. Don't open the door to anyone except me or her." Saer added, "I haven't been terribly impressed with these people's operation so far, but they did manage to track you down once. I've been surprised before."

Hiri nodded, with a nervous glance at the door, "Okay."

"There's also a stun stick in there." Saer pointed at the bag, "Just press the button is make sure it makes contact. It does the rest."

Hiri hesitated, "A stun stick... okay."

"Just in case."

Hiri looked nauseated, "Just in case."

"If you don't hear from me by tomorrow, call Commander Invelen." Saer started getting equipment out of the bag, "Tell her what's happened. She'll take care of things."

"Ami... should we call her now?"

Saer shook her head, "I'm probably just being over-cautious. This looks like a two bit operation, to me. I'll be back." She hesitated, "Anything else you need?"

"No. No, I'm okay." Hiri didn't look okay, but there wasn't anything Saer could do about that now, "Just - find Tani, please?"

"I mean to." Saer double checked her gear, then left. She waited to hear the snick of the door being locked behind her.

* * *

Bjerd sat. "Tidjias is- If he finds you, he's going to kill you. You and the girl." She didn't seem happy about it, just resigned. "Are you going to kill me?"

"That depends on how the conversation goes." Saer sat opposite Bjerd, keeping the gun trained on her.

* * *

Saer studied the maintenance section loading docks. She'd hoped it would be an easier way in than the main entrance. No such luck. There were armed guards, along with cameras. She slipped back out of sight and brought up the interface for her internal neocom. A few minutes later, her search agent came back with plans for the shuttleport.

Saer narrowed down possible access points until she was left with a maintenance access to the building's climate control. She made her way around the side of the building until the access point came into view. She timed the guard's patrol pattern, then sprinted to the wall between two cameras' fields of view. Sloppy, leaving a gap between the cameras. Just because they're sloppy doesn't mean you can be. Remember it.

She slid along the wall to the maintenance access point, and made quick work of the cover. She slipped inside, pulling the cover back on behind her.

'Climate control Maintenance Access Point' was code for 'way into the air ducts' of course. It wasn't like in the holos, where there was enough room for the broad-shouldered male lead to do a handstand inside. Saer was small enough to fit, but it was slow going, and filthy.

She made her way to the vent nearest the storage room, and checked the corridor outside with a mirror. Clear.

She carefully worked the vent cover loose and dropped to the floor. The storage room door was just down the hall.

The lock on the door was of a significantly higher grade than the ones on the other doors, confirming Saer's suspicions. It was mechanical, too. Someone's made an investment in making sure that whatever's in this room isn't discovered, and that if it is, there aren't any access records.

She took a slim case from her inside pocket and squatted down. Higher grade or not, the lock was no match for the small but very expensive collection of tools inside the case, and after a moment Saer heard a quiet click as the lock's mechanism gave up the fight.

Carefully, she eased open the door. The light from the corridor gave her a glimpse of a tiny storeroom, lined with shelves and crowded with boxes, before a shape lunged at her.

Saer sidestepped, registering female - medium build - short hair, and the figure crashed past her and landed on the floor with a grunt. Hands and feet tied - tape over her mouth.

The girl writhed around and tried to kick Saer, glaring at her with more anger than fear, and the movement gave Saer a clear enough view of her face to make a positive identification.

She said quietly, but with emphasis, "Tani." When the girl still glared at her, she went on. "It's Saer. Hiri's friend? We met at the dances. Remember?"

Tani stopped trying to kick Saer and started making urgent, muffled noises through the tape over her mouth. Saer knelt beside her and pulled it off. Tani yelped as some skin came with it, and then said indignantly, struggling against the plastic ties on her wrists and ankles. "They hit me! And tied me up! Get these off me! I'm going to kill them!"

"You're going to do exactly what I tell you to do," Saer said. "Hold still."

Tani stopped struggling as Saer drew her knife and began to cut her bonds. "Those four-footed sons of mice!"

"And stay quiet," Saer said. "Can you stand? Walk?"

Tani got to her feet, only slightly unsteady. Whoever tied her up didn't pull those ties tight enough to cut off the circulation, Saer noted. Either not paying much attention - or particularly careful. "I told them I wasn't going to tell anyone," Tani said, only slightly more quietly than before.

"Too late for that now," Saer said. She took another look in the storeroom. She might not be a mechanic but years on ships and stations had given her enough familiarity with the profession to identify the pictures stamped on the sides of the boxes. "Parts? Is that what's in there they don't want people to know about?"

Tani nodded. "They're selling them. Putting the old parts back in he shuttles. But they're too stupid to tell which ones really are past it and they're not doing the reconditioning right, something's going to crash and they'll all get caught, being greedy."

Saer shook her head. "Amateurs. If I get pictures, will there be serial number or something? Something that could be used as leverage? Parts that should already be in ships?" She checked the hallway again and then ducked over to take a couple of quick images of the boxes.

"All the parts are marked," Tani said. "They're changing the manifests though, too. Someone gets in the computer and changes the list so it looks like the serial numbers are the right ones."

"Would there be evidence of that? Maybe on Tidjias's machine? Or in his office?"

Tani snorted, "Him? He doesn't know how to turn on a terminal, let along use one."

"Who changes it, then?"

"Bjerd. Bjerd Esmur." Tani jerked a thumb over her shoulder, "In requisitions."

"We can go, leave now. Get out safe and walk away." Saer watched Tani carefully, "Or we can go to her office and get evidence. It's up to you."

Tani's response was immediate and indignant, "They're going to get people killed! They're supposed to be engineers!"

Saer nodded, "Alright then. Her office it is. Which way?"

"This way!" Tani started marching down the corridor like she owned the place.

Saer grabbed for her and snagged the back of her shirt. She pulled her back, and said firmly, "Stay behind me, and stay quiet."

They found Bjerd's office, more of a cubicle, without incident - and Bjerd was there. Tani immediately pushed past Saer and stomped into the office, saying truculently "I know what you're doing, you know!"

Saer frowned, If she doesn't learn to be a little more subtle, someone's going to off her. She keeps on like this, it might be me.

Bjerd looked at Tani in surprise and alarm. She slammed her terminal closed and lunged for her com.

Saer moved forward and shoved Bjerd back into her seat with one hand. She produced a knife and held it to the woman's throat with her other hand, "Don't. They wouldn't be here in time." Saer glanced at Tani, "Tani, there's a datapad in my bag. Get the information. Try not to make an announcement over the PA that we're here while you're doing it."

Tani got the datapad and turned the terminal back on, with a breif confused look at Saer at the mention of the PA. Apparently I need practice with sarcasm. Saer thought, Unless she really has no understanding of the situation we're in.

"What ... what do you want?" Bjerd's eyes rolled in fear, "Money? I have some, not much, but some."

Saer ignored the offer, "Does your boss, Tidjias, does he kick any of the take up to anyone?"

Bjerd started to shake her head, then thought better of it, "No. Him, share? No."

"So there's noone protecting him upstairs." Saer mused, "Well, I knew this wasn't exactly Fatal I was dealing with. Did you know he'd had Tani here kidnapped?"

"Yes. I tried to tell-" Bjerd looked at Tani, carefully not moving her head. "I told you, Tani - not to say anything to him."

Tani looked away from the monitor with a slight frown, "This isn't right. These aren't the right numbers. Why are you changing them again?"

"Don't tell TIdjias." Bjerd looked even more desperate, if that was possible. "Please? I have money, some money, I can pay you!"

"I don't really give a shit about your money." Saer increased the pressure with the knife a touch, to make the point, and a bead of blood welled up along the edge, "You and this whole operation are small change to me. I promise you that Tidjias should be the last of your worries right now. Answer her question."

"Some of the parts are still good! Some of them... Some aren't." Bjerd looked from Tani to Saer, "He doesn't care! He wants them all swapped back in, so I... make changes. He doesn't know. Please don't tell him. Please!"

"I told you, don't worry about Tidjias. I'm going to tie you up and leave you under your desk. Stay quiet, don't make any problems, and you're keep your health." Saer glanced at Tani, "Do you have the evidence?" At Tani's nod, Saer went on, "There are ties in the bag, tie her hands behind her."

Saer waited for Tani to get Bjerd tied up, then put away the knife. "Put the datapad in the bag. It's time to go."

Tani did as instructed, then gave Bjerd a kick before going to check the door.

Saer frowned slightly, Bright, but more than a little impulsive. Saer glanced out at the hallway, "Follow close, stay quiet. We run into anyone, let me handle it."

Saer's caution proved unneeded, and the trip to the nearest vent was uneventful. Saer wriggled inside, then pulled Tani in after her.

* * *

Saer studied Bjerd, "I'm here to help you, if you'll let me."

"Help me?" Bjerd eyed the gun, "Really."

"I'll help you, and you'll help me." Saer smiled, "That's the way things work."

Friends: Part 2

2011-01-08T18:00:00.000-08:00

Saer sat, pistol in one hand, as twilight deepened into night. She sat and she listened.

There was the sound of the brpbrp, scratching at the door to the bedroom. Somewhere above her, she could hear a baby crying, someone arguing. The muffled thump thump thump of bass, like a heartbeat, stripped of any accompanying music by the interposing walls. The wail of some new Gallente pop singer from another, closer apartment.

* * *

The bar was busy, but the people Saer was looking for weren't hard to spot. The maintenance workers were at a corner table by themselves, radiating a distinct air of 'fuck off'. There was a clear space all around them, an area that the rest of the customers seemed to avoid instinctively.

Saer sat at the bar and ordered a drink. It wasn't hard to keep an eye on her targets without seeming to watch them.

She saw it right away. The group mentality, the brittle good humor and 'friendliness' that fronts for raw pack mechanics and posturing, the cash changing hands. This was something she recognized, something she was used to. She'd run a few gangs herself, once upon a time.

As she kept an eye on them, she noticed one of them, one of the bigger men, had fresh split knuckles and blood on his shirt.

Saer bided her time, waiting for her moment.

It came when the big man got up, calling loudly that when he got back, the next round was on him. He went out the back.

Saer slid from her barstool and slipped out the front, then around to the alley between the bar and the Jin-Mei fast food place next door.

Her target was in the alley. He finished pissing on the wall and zipped up as she padded toward him.

He turned away from her, back toward the bar, but he must have sensed something, maybe a sound or a movement of the air.

He spun to face her, meaty fists at the ready.

He dropped them in confusion, though, when he saw the petite Sebeistor woman standing a bare meter away, "What're you being so quiet for? I'm not in the market right now, go bother someone else."

Sloppy, letting him know I was here. Saer thought, with something like irritation. At least he think's I'm a hooker. She made sure that the blackjack in her right hand stayed out of sight. She took a step closer.

His expression became annoyed, "Look, I told you. Shove o-"

Saer's kick doubled him over, though she doubted it had done any permanent damage. Still, he wouldn't be 'in the market' for a while. She stepped smoothly to one side and gave him a carefully measured tap to the back of the head with the little club.

Why'd he have to be so tall? He had nearly half a meter on her, she could guess it looked ridiculous as she levered him up from the ground and propped him across her shoulder so she could drag him along like a drunk friend. Hopefully no one will notice.

She started dragging him toward a motel.

* * *

Saer could hear sounds outside the apartment, too: a scream, cut off sharply; the wail of sirens; the buzz of hovers and roar of shuttles thrumming through the thick, polluted air as they landed at the shuttleport nearby. The rustle of voices and vehicles and blaring ads and all the other sounds of thousands of people packed together in poverty and filth on the streets below. She leaned back into the chair slightly. Away from all of it.

* * *

He started to come around, and she gave him a sharp slap to help him along. He groaned, then cursed as he came to. He glared at Saer, strained against the ties that held him in the chair and found them unyielding. He didn't bluster or threaten. Maybe there's some hope for him yet.

The motel was run down, and didn't even pretend to be clean. It was the kind of place where no one asked questions, or even for IDs, so it was ideal.

Saer sat on the bed across from him and let the facade fall. It felt good, not having to pretend and react and care the way she was supposed to, for a little while. She asked, without preamble, "The girl, where is she?"

"What fucking girl?"

"The Vherry girl." Saer answered, patiently.

"Which one?"

"Both of them."

"Both of who?"

She wondered why people in this situation insisted on delaying tactics. He has to know he's short on options and I'm short on time. She said, her tone that of someone explaining an important but boring bit of real estate law, "The next question of mine you don't answer, I'm going to break your little finger. Both of the Vherokior girls."

His brow furrowed, "The nosy ones?"

So he did know something.

She reached out and he tried to jerk his hands away. Unfortunately they were zip-tied to his knees. She took a firm hold on his right pinky, "Yes."

He shrugged as much as he could, "Now? Dunno."

Saer tensed her arm, and suggested, "You're going to want to be more helpful."

"Well, I fucking dunno. The nosy one from maintenance stopped hanging around couple of days ago. The other one, who knows by now? It's a big city."

Saer jerked his pinky sharply, and felt it break between the knuckle and the first joint. He grunted sharply at the pain. She left it pointing away from all of the others and explained, like a teacher suggesting that a student could do more to live up to their potential, "It's going to be difficult to do maintenance with broken fingers. I don't care what you and your people are into." She made sure to look him in the eyes. He tried to look away and she slapped him again, then grabbed his jaw, turned his face toward her, and went on in the same calm voice, "I'm not the police, and I'm not interested in your turf. I just want the girls. Where are they?"

The words tumbled out quickly, "The second one, last I saw her, she was in the alley down from the bar. Two blocks. The other one, at the shuttleport, I dunno! She was asking around and hanging around and then she wasn't!"

"Anyone take an interest in her hanging around?"

He tried to shrug again, "Nosy isn't good."

She got a firm grip on his ring finger and asked, "Who would I want to talk to, about that?"

"Yeah, all right!" She relaxed her grip slightly, "Tidjias, him and his boys. They get real nervous about questions."

"Tidjias." Saer tested the name, "Does he have a last name? Who is he?"

"He runs the section. Tidjias is his last name. I dunno his first." She tightened her grip slightly, and he nearly yelled, "I don't!"

There were more questions, but Hiri was out there in some alley. Better to get her taken care of first.

She nodded, "Good. Thank you for your help."

She gagged him and dragged him into a corner.

* * *
Saer sat in the apartment and remembered other nights, like this. A city like this, far away. Waiting for the door to open. Taking the time to carefully wipe the sweat from her palms so her hands wouldn't slip, her weapon a 'knife' made from a carefully chipped piece of a ceramic tile, with a cloth wrapped handle. Crude, but sharp as winter. It had been decades ago, and light-years away, but the sounds were the same.

* * *

There was no sign of Hiri in the alley.

Saer studied the pavement, trying to see any signs of a struggle or worse, blood, in the rubbish and dirt. Had she been lied to?

No.

The man had been telling the truth, Saer was almost certain. She could go back and get more details from him, but that would take time.

He was a big man. Hiri was a small woman. And whatever happened to her, she hasn't been able to call me for hours now.

Saer tried Hiri's comm frequency, and a cheerful trilling came from one of the huge trash bins that squatted along the alley.

She heaved back the lid and the trilling grew louder, coming from somewhere in the pile of stinking bags. Saer began to throw them aside.

There. An arm: tanned, plump, small. Saer hauled, and Hiri emerged from beneath the rest of the trash. Saer pulled her over the edge of the bin and lowered her to the ground.

Hiri was limp and motionless, but breathing, her face swollen and bruised from what Saer judged to be a beating, the kind where the survival of the victim wasn't really a big concern.

Saer felt her arms and legs. Not broken. Breathing doesn't sound like there's a punctured lung. It's been hours and she hasn't bled out yet from anything internal.

Hiri stirred and groaned, and Saer squatted next to her, "Hiri?"

"Saer?" Hiri opened her good eye, "Ohhh... What happened?"

Saer helped Hiri to sit up, and got Hiri's arm over her shoulders, "You were beaten up. Let me help you, we need to get you somewhere safer."

Hiri leaned on Saer as Saer hauled her to her feet. "At the shuttleport? Where are we?"

"An alley." Hiri's knees buckled, and Saer held her up. "Come on, I've got a room."

"An alley?" Hiri asked, and then again, "What happened?"

Concussion probably. Saer half-helped, half-carried Hiri along, considering taking her to the hospital. No. Too risky. Tidjias's crew know she was beaten up, and they might have realized their friend didn't just wander off drunk. They might be watching the hospitals. Worse, the police might get involved, if she comes in like this.

No one at the motel seemed to notice or care that this was the second 'drunk friend' Saer was helping to her room. She kept Hiri on her feet long enough to get her inside the room and lowered her onto the bed, turning to lock the door behind them.

When she turned back Hiri was staring at the man tied up in the corner, "What...?"

"He's the one that beat you up," Saer said. "I'm just asking him some questions."

"He beat me up?"

"Yes." Saer dug out her first aid kit.

Hiri put her head in her hands, "At the shuttleport?"

"After the shuttleport," Saer said patiently. "Lemme take a look."

Hiri straightened up a little and whimpered. "My head hurts."

"You got beat up." Saer opened the kit. "Hold still, now."

Saer did the best she could with Hiri's scrapes and bruises, and gave her a painkiller that wasn't a standard part of most first aid kits. No skull fracture. Disoriented, retrograde amnesia, no vomiting, pupils normal.

No hospital.

"Did we find Tani?" Hiri asked plaintively.

Saer shook her head, "I'm working on it."

Hiri stared at the man in the corner. "Why did he beat me up?"

"For asking questions." Saer said without a trace of irony. She turned and considered her 'guest'., "I'm going to talk to him and find out about Tani. You rest."

"Okay." Hiri nodded and winced.

Saer hesitated for a moment. What would a friend do? She patted Hiri on the shoulder, "It'll be okay."

"I think ..." Hiri looked pale, "I want to lie down."

Saer turned on the holo, the picture grainy and rippling, "Try and stay awake if you can."

"Okay."

"You've got a head injury." Saer sat on the edge of the bed as Hiri lay back, "I can't stay with you, because I need to ask a few more questions, and find Tani."

"All right." Hiri still seemed a little vague, but at least she was conscious.

Saer nodded, then stood, grabbed the back of the chair that the man was tied to and dragged him into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her.

* * *

Saer's attention sharpened as she heard footsteps in the hallway outside the apartment stop in front of the door. She stood and listened carefully, but they didn't move on. There was the rustle of someone fishing in a purse or bag. Saer slipped over to stand against the wall next to the door, pistol held ready, quiet as the void.

Friends: Part 1

2011-01-07T18:00:00.000-08:00

Saer looked in the mirror and a stranger looked back.

She blinked, and the face was familiar again. Sebeistor, tanned now rather than station-pale. Thinner than it had been, cheekbones slightly more pronounced. Other changes, easy to buy at any drug store or salon: darker hair, fuller lips, grey eyes.

She studied that flat, grey gaze. Some things didn't change. Whatever the color, her eyes were always the same.

* * *

Two Days Earlier

Saer's eyes traced the atmosphere-misted curve of the planet as the shuttle descended. She thought about friends.

She was here to help a friend. She'd met Valhiri Akell because Saer's CEO had recommended the psychologist to help Saer research her background, as a returnee. To help her learn about what it was to be Minmatar, and Sebeistor (though Hiri was Vherokior). To learn about what it meant, to have been a slave and to now be free. All the things that those born in the Republic took for granted.

The shuttle juddered a bit as the atmosphere thickened. The curve of the horizon had begun to flatten and shields covered the windows, blurring the view. The pilot's voice came over the intercom, practiced and calm, explaining that they would touch down shortly.

Saer didn't have many friends. She had trouble understanding friendship. She understood loyalty, though. She understood reciprocity. The other things, the little things, she could fake. That's one of the ways Hiri was valuable to her. Saer learned a lot about being the person she was supposed to be from Hiri.

Urbrald was a new city, as cities go. Many cities in the Republic were. She watched the blot of it spread on the shuttle's monitors: smudged and cross-hatched; browns and tans, greys and blacks; weals and drips of livid color here and there. It was new (as cities go), but it was an old type. The type of city she recognized.

Hiri's teenage sister had disappeared, leaving just a note about leaving with a man. Hiri had worried about the type of man. Saer had explained about notes. How easy they were to fake. Saer knew the kind of things a city like Urbrald could do to a teenager. And Tani was Hiri's sister, and Hiri was Saer's friend.

And what are friends for?

* * *

Saer looked away from the mirror, running her eyes over the room around her. The bathroom was small, as such things were measured planet-side. Saer had lived in spaces that were smaller. A short, neat row of beauty products below the mirror, a shower stall, a toilet, all spotlessly clean. The drawers beside the sink held the expected: hygiene products, toilet paper. And something else: a half-dozen wrapped cakes of soap, a Federation brand. Hand-milled. Expensive.

* * *

The shuttleport was just as Saer remembered it from her last trip: losing a half-assed, budget-limited war with decay.

In space, people don't have the choice of doing the job poorly. It was one of the things she liked about it. Something worth doing is worth doing properly.

She settled the strap of her pack more comfortably on her shoulder and turned to Hiri as they found a spot out of the flow of traffic, "Should we talk to your clan first, or start here?"

"Well..." Hiri looked around the arrival hall, as if she could search out the answer, "If this guy she ran off with works here ... what do you think?"

If she ran off with some guy. Saer considered, "Do you know who Tani's supervisor was? They might know who she was friends with."

"She works for the cleaning crew, we could ask." Hiri seemed more decisive, and with a couple of questions to the cleaning staff, they had directions

The situation had come up so quickly, Saer hadn't had much - or any - time to get information about what was happening. Information is, they say, half the battle. Usually it's more than half.

"How long ago did she get this job?" she asked as they headed towards the offices.

Hiri glanced over, interrupted in her own thoughts, "About a month. I guess after what you said, she thought she could work her way up, or something."

"She's an ambitious girl." Saer offered, "She seemed quite determined when I talked to her during my visit."

They entered the warren of corridors and rooms occupied by the cleaning staff. It was crowded with people and equipment in various stages of repair. The smell of cleaning agents vying with the undertones of machine oil and humanity.

"There's ambitious and there's unrealistic." Hiri shook her head, "She's the wrong clan. She's even the wrong tribe. It doesn't matter how long she works as a cleaner, or how much she wants to be a mechanic. That's not how things work here."

Ambition works everywhere, so long as you're willing to do what it takes, Saer thought. She kept her mouth shut, though, as they arrived at the supervisor's office.

The door to the office was open, but Hiri knocked anyway. The supervisor was an older, harried looking Vherokior. A few wisps or grey hair escaped his carefully constructed comb-over and floated back and forth as he labored over his paperwork.

"Come in." He didn't look up while delivering the brusque invitation.

"Hello. My name is Valhiri Akell, and my sister Tani works for you."

"Worked." He still hadn't looked up, frowning over some form or other.

"Worked?" Hiri asked, "Did she quit?"

The supervisor finally looked up, "She stopped coming in, so yeah. She quit. Yesterday, the day before, I dunno. Kids, you know? No staying power."

Saer didn't know Tani well. They'd only met for a couple days, when Saer had visited Hiri's clan's lands. Still, that didn't sound like the girl she'd talked to, "Was she unreliable before that?"

The supervisor shrugged heavily, "I don't remember, so I guess not."

"What about overtime?" Saer tried. Hiri had mentioned Tani working 'overtime'. It was a lie as old as the Eve gate, for when you needed some time after work and didn't want anyone being suspicious why.

The supervisor snorted "Overtime? Like we have a budget for that?"

"Do you know why she would have been here after her shift ended?" Hiri asked.

The supervisor leaned back and called out the door, "Jeri! Jeri! That girl, Tani? You remember if she used to hang around after shift?"

Another woman, Vherokior, in a cleaning staff uniform leaned into the office, "The little one? Always hanging around maintenance, yeah. Thought she was going to get a job. Ate lunch over there and hung around them after work."

"Yeah." The supervisor snorted, "Like they'd adopt her or something, bunch of stuck-up Sebbie shits."

"Do you know if there was anyone in particular she was friendly with?" Saer asked.

Jeri shook her head, "Dunno. Not like I spend any time over there, right?"

Of course not. Thought Saer, Maintenance is a different clan. Always a Sebbie clan. Everyone knows they are the ones who are good at mechanical things. We are good at mechanical things. And it's Vherokior clans that have cleaning locked down.

Saer kept her expression impassive, "Thank you. When was the last time you saw her?"

"Two days ago, maybe." Jeri thought for a moment, "Yeah, two days ago. She finished her shift like normal. Think she was heading over to hang around maintenance like normal too."

"I see." It was somewhere else to look. Saer quirked her mouth in what might have been a smile, "Thank you for your time, both of you. Did you have any other questions, Hiri?"

Hiri shook her head, with a slight frown.

"Let's check maintenance, then."

* * *

Saer slipped out of the bathroom, into the living room, made her way to one of the chairs - worn, but well cared for and comfortable.

There were knick-knacks scattered here and there. A newish holo-projector. Framed pictures of family on the walls and tables; many of them showed a boy, a happy boy. In some of them he was wearing a school uniform. In a few there was a man with the boy. She could see the similarities in their features. There were a couple of pictures of a brpbrp too, a small pack predator and scavenger native to the planet. Named after the distinctive sound they made, they were a popular pet.

* * *

There was a manned barrier at the entrance to the maintenance section. The guards saw them coming,

"Authorized personnel only." One of them said, sounding bored.

"My sister's missing, I know she spent time here." Hiri looked worried, "I just want to talk to the staff, ask if anyone knows why she might have left."

"Sorry," The other guard said, "We still can't let you in. Rules are rules."

Saer spoke, "Excuse me, Hiri. May I?"

Hiri stepped aside to let Saer address the two. Saer glanced at Hiri, then back to the guards and smiled, "It was worth a try. Look, truth is, we work for an exec off-planet who stashed something, you know, sensitive in a shuttle. We found out it's in maintenance. This guy screwed up and now all of a sudden it's our problem." She flashed a little of the local currency, "No harm in letting us take a look for it, is there? One Sebbie to another?"

She saw they were considering it, then one of them reached for the currency, "You tell us what it is. We'll look for it."

"I don't think you get what I mean when I say sensitive. I probably shouldn't even tell you, but," Saer looked around, as if making sure no one else was nearby to overhear, "his boss's daughter sensitive. Apparently she likes, you know, filming things. 'fraid we need to take care of it ourselves. It gets out, it's my ass. Look, I'll double up, how about that? You won't even know we were here."

"And if I let anyone back there, it's my ass." The guard that had taken a lead in the negotiations shook his head, "Sorry, sweetheart. Either we find it or it doesn't get found."

They don't object to being bribed, but they won't take it.

"Guess I'll have to find someone higher on the food chain to give my money too." Saer shrugged and turned away, "Come on, let's go."

She waited until they were out of earshot of the barrier and glanced at Hiri, "Let's see if we can find where they hang out after work. Find out what's going on that way. If not, we'll sneak in."

Hiri seemed puzzled, but nodded, and followed Saer.

It didn't take much asking around to find out which local bar benefited from the maintenance crew's custom. Just theirs, though: Saer got an incredulous stare from a baggage handler and a blank look from a custom's clerk when she asked if they ever went there. Maintenance keeps themselves to themselves ... and everyone else knows to stay away.

She assessed the environment and identified a cafe large and noisy enough to let them talk without human or electronic eavesdropping. When they were seated with coffees in front of them, Saer said, "There's something going on."

"What do you mean?" Hiri asked.

"They keep to themselves, and they didn't take the bribe." It should be obvious.

"And that's bad?" Hiri still looked lost.

"Yeah." Saer sipped her coffee and barely stopped herself from grimacing. You like coffee, she reminded herself, "It means they have something to hide that's worth more."

Hiri frowned, like someone trying to do a puzzle without knowing the shapes of the pieces, or the picture it was supposed to make. "Something to hide?"

"Yeah. They're into something. I'm almost positive." Saer tried dumping more sweetener into her coffee, "Can you find a room at a place near the bar? Somewhere that takes cash and doesn't worry too much about IDs?"

"Find a room. Okay. Yeah, I can do that" Hiri continued, after a beat, "Should we call the police, then?"

Remember, she doesn't know any better.

"And tell them we couldn't bribe security, so something's going on?" Saer shoved away the coffee and stood, "I have some shopping to do. I'll meet you at the bar in an hour. Is that enough time?"

"Um." Hiri still looked hesitant, but she nodded "I guess?"

* * *

The brpbrp was locked in the main bedroom. Saer could hear it through the door, but it wasn't loud enough to disturb the neighbors.

She had left the lights off, but everything in the apartment was clear to her augmented vision. The view outside the room's small window was of a blank wall, ruddy in the sunset.

* * *

Saer found a spot, in the shadows of an alley across the street from the bar, and settled in to wait. She was good at waiting. There was a knack to it, to staying perfectly still for as long as it took. To fading into the background. So she waited.

The hour came and went, and no Hiri. Maybe she got lost. Saer gave her an extra hour, then tried calling. There was no answer. Saer let another hour pass, called again. Still no answer. The workers from the Maintenance section started filtering into the bar, the main shift getting off.

Not lost, then. She imagined Hiri getting a room at the sort of place she'd specified, She'd stick out. Sometimes it was easy to forget just how little Hiri knew, of all the things Saer took for granted. I should have realized she wasn't up to the job.

Saer studied the bar across the street, It's them, because we were asking around, or it's someone else. Someone random.

Someone random could be anywhere, by now. But they're right here.

Decision made, Saer headed into the bar.

* * *

There had been a time when an apartment with a window was the highest ambition Saer could conceive of. A place of her own, where the door could be locked. That was a long time ago.

She tugged her gloves a bit tighter and pulled out her pistol. Small, with a built-in suppressor.

Saer had different ambitions now.

And this wasn't her apartment.

Conversations on the Utopian Ideal: Twenty Seven

2010-12-03T19:50:00.000-08:00

Commander Amieta Invelen strode into the Captain's quarters without knocking - not a privilege enjoyed by anyone else on the crew. Strictly speaking, not one the XO should have either. Just one of the ways we've been sloppy, Amieta thought. And the Cluster hasn't fallen on our heads, has it?

Silver was at a work bench - real wood, of course - very carefully teasing apart the pages of a book that had clearly seen better days. Better centuries, even.

Probably another accounting ledger or a manual on second dynasty sewage treatment. Just so long as it's old. Amieta rolled her eyes and cleared her throat, and Silver looked up from the book with a barely perceptible start, and then a barely perceptible smile. "Ami."

Amieta closed the door behind her. One more habit we should never have gotten in to. Still, the carelessness they'd both slipped into worked in her favor now. "Silver, we should talk."

His gaze sharpened. "Is something - "

"No," she said quickly. "Nothing's wrong. It's - I'll make us some tea, okay?"

By the time the tea was ready, Silver had carefully stored away the guide to animal husbandry or whatever it was. Amieta poured for them both as he took a seat across the low table from her.

He took his tea, "We don't do this often enough, anymore."

"You're probably right." Ami shrugged, "A lot's changed. That's what I wanted to talk with you about."

Silver sipped his tea and waited. Politely. As usual. Used to infuriate me. Still does, sometimes. It's better, for this though. Better to be able to say what I need to say.

"Cia's ... she's not doing so well, right now. And how things are, between us ... she needs to be able to tell Dr Akell about what's happened. All of what's happened."

Silver frowned slightly, and Amieta hurried on before he could speak, "I know, I know what you're thinking. I think the security issue is pretty much gone, now. I don't think keeping things secret makes any of us any safer. It was you and me for a long time, and I know you just wanted to make sure I was safe. Make sure they couldn't use me against you. But there have been rumors, among the crew, for a long time. Anyone who wants to buy a few drinks for any of the crew on leave can find out that we've been a bit closer than employee and employer."

Silver set his cup down. "Ami ..."

Amieta interrupted him, "As for Cia, well. She's high profile all by herself, now. Not the wet behind the ears pilot she was when you first met her. If anything, more people knowing what's between you and her might make her safer. Knowing it's not just that you're good friends and that they'd be in for a pain shit-storm if they touched her. It might even keep you safer too. I mean, she's a director now." Amieta snorted, "She's probably scarier than you, to some people. Anyway, we can start slow. Just let Hiri - Dr Akell - know, to begin with. We're fucked anyway, if we can't trust her."

Silver finally managed to get a few words in, "If you're sure. Ami, you know it was always about safety. You, Cia, Camille ... It's-"

"-dangerous being close to a podder." Amieta finished for him, The more some things change, the more they stay the same, "I know. But Cia's a target whether you are in the picture or not. So is Camille, because she's Cia's sister. Also whether you're in the picture or not. And Silver, with the twins coming ... a lot of things are about to change."

He nodded, with the faintest trace of a smile. "Unexpectedly. Not unwelcome, of course. But ..."

"I know. How do you think I feel?" Amieta asked. "I feel responsible, you know. You two would still be polite acquaintances if not for the decisions I made. And Cia ... never asked for any of the complications, and she's kept our secrets whatever the cost. And Silver, you know what it cost."

"I know," Silver said quietly. "I was there, Ami."

"It's still costing her. What she can't talk about, to her doctor, hells, I'm half-convinced it's part of what's got her twisted around with Charlie." Amieta shrugged. "How can she get close to someone she's keeping a gigantic mindfuck of a secret from?" She sipped her tea, and watched him over the rim of her cup. "Unless you're thinking that's better. That she goes on keeping him at arm's length."

"That would be ... selfish." Silver said. He paused, and Amieta kept quiet, Let him work out the truth of it himself.

Their closeness was one of the things that made her such a good XO for him. Much easier to anticipate the Captain when you were that close. Easier to tell when he was going to get that you were right -That being most of the time- too. Eventually, he nodded, as she'd known he would. "You're right, Ami. I don't think we have to keep it quite so secret. Keeping everything quiet has served its purpose, but things change. Have changed."

Amieta finished her tea, "Thanks. I'll tell Dr Akell."

"And Cia?" Silver asked.

Amieta shook her head. "She needs to hear it from you, Silver. That it's your decision, not just me telling her what I want to be true. I know it's not ..." She glanced at the teapot and quirked an eyebrow. "Your cup of tea, that sort of conversation. But this really is something she needs to hear from you."

Silver nodded, "I'll just ... try to get used to the idea. It can be an adjustment. Letting go of things."

"Yeah, some things they don't make a skill pack for."

"Actually..."

Amieta rolled her eyes, though with a smile, and left.

Job Interview

2010-12-02T19:10:00.000-08:00

She was leaving a funeral when he saw her.

She saw him, too. A thrill of... something, when their eyes met. Something he thought he wouldn't feel again. Recognition, maybe, or the nameless sense of knowing that recognition was a pale shadow of.

She was thin. Not like a holostar, but wiry. Spare. Hard blue eyes in a face with its share of laugh-lines.

She cut through the crowd toward him, held out her hand, "I'm Amieta."

He shook her hand. His reply was automatic. Ingrained. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Captain Silver Night."

Vaguely friendly, but impersonal. His expression was a politely interested mask. He could feel the hard metal of a prosthetic under the gloves she was wearing.

I'm right, he thought. I'm wrong.

She's still holding my hand.

I'm right.

She spoke again, voice low with a faint smoker's rasp. "You want to get out of here? Maybe get a drink?"

He didn't drink. He couldn't let her leave. He released her hand and found himself saying, "I would like that, yes."

They found a place a couple of levels down, a low end place catering to dock-workers where shoddy maintenance had green streaks striping condensation-damp walls. They settled at a rickety table with their cheap synthetic whiskeys. Amieta spoke before the uncomfortable silence could gain too much momentum, "You're a podder."

Silver stopped himself from reaching back and touching the plug on the back of his neck. Even though it hadn't been a question, he answered, "Yes. A couple of years, now. For Ishukone, mostly."

She nodded, "I'm in independent security consulting. Up north."

Guristas, she meant. Silver took a drink. Realized he didn't really care if she was a Gurista. Didn't care, right then, that he didn't drink, that she was a Gurista, that this was the last place in the Cluster he'd ever chose to socialize, that he didn't have his security detail, that there was every chance they might be seen.

Nothing mattered but the woman sitting across from him.

"How did you get into that?"

She paused, threw back her drink, and told him. He knew after the first sentence he didn't want to know, knew at the same time that he had to know.

Because it was her.

Because it had always been her.

He couldn't remember later how long it took her to tell the story. Not long, compared to how long it had taken her to live through it. Long enough for a scattering of empty glasses to accumulate in front of both of them.

He tried to think of what to say. Something that wasn't polite and hollow. Something that didn't have pity, or sympathy, or any of the other things he already knew she wouldn't have much use for.

I'll kill them for you. All of them. I'm a podder, that's a promise I can keep.

"Ami - "

His chair flew out from under him and he looked up to see a handful of people in KK service crew uniforms. The one still holding Silver's chair smiled, showing yellowed teeth with a certain lack of sincerity, "You're sitting at our table. This is my chair."

Silver wobbled to his feet. Floor. Moving. Oh, whiskey, that's right. "I'm sure we can-"

Suddenly he was on the ground again, and his jaw hurt something fierce. The man had hit him. Silver scrambled to his feet, adrenaline clearing his head a bit as he tried to remember years-ago self-defense training. The KK crewmen were laughing.

"You can have my chair." Amieta stepped past him, swinging her chair in a tight arc that ended abruptly with the lead KK thug. He went down in a tangle with the wreckage, and Silver stared for a moment, then charged another of the crewmen. He thought that it seemed to be the thing to do, or perhaps the whiskey thought it seemed to be the thing to do.

Tackling him to the ground, Silver got an elbow in the stomach for his trouble. He tried to punch for the man's head, but slammed his wrist into the corner of the bar. He realized, as the man he'd tackled threw him off and into another group of patrons, that he might be a bit out of his depth. He struggled back to his feet and saw Amieta casually headbutt someone, and backhand someone else. She looks like she's having a good time, anyway.

He heard the scrape of chairs behind him, and thought perhaps he should explain it was an accident, knocking over their table. He turned just in time to get punched in the face. Again.

This time, as he sat on the floor trying to get his bearings, a strong hand hauled him up by the collar, and Amieta said in his ear, "Time to go, flyboy. Come on, out the back."

She grabbed his hand, and he tried to keep up as she fled out the back, stumbling after her while angry customers and the sound of approaching station security pursued them. He slipped and slid in something in the alley behind the dive, but she kept him from falling and dragged him around the corner before she let go so that they could both sprint as fast as possible away. They had a good head start, but the sounds of pursuit stayed close as they ducked through twists and turns in the bowels of the station.

Suddenly, he realized she was no longer in front of him, and turned in confusion. He'd lost sight of her for only a moment, and she'd disappeared. Security was close behind them, and -

The walls flew sideways, a firm grip on his arm yanking him into a maintenance corridor. He lost his balance, fell on something soft and hard as the door slid shut behind him, and blinked his vision clear to see Amieta looking up at him, finger to her lips, eyes dancing. Footsteps pounded past outside and Silver held his breath until they faded away into the distance.

"You can get up now," Amieta said.

Silver disentangled himself and propped himself against the wall. Amieta sat up and shuffled over next to him, shoulder touching his. He shook from the adrenaline. He was alone with an admitted pirate, and wanted by station security. He could see his knuckles were split, though he didn't remember getting any punches in. He could taste his own blood, over the flavor of the whiskey. His clothes were almost certainly ruined.

Amieta was laughing.

Silver realized he was too.

"You were pretty terrible back there, you know?" she said. "I thought pod-pilots were supposed to be all fearsome and dangerous."

"With a battleship, perhaps," Silver said.

She turned to look at him. "Did it hurt? Getting those things put in?"

"No."

"And now you can't ever die." There was something wistful in her lopsided smile.

"Pilots can die," Silver said. "Not easily. And those close to us ... podders are dangerous. To those close to us, most of all."

"So you call yourself 'Silver Night'," Amieta said. "Can I - " She raised one hand towards his neck, stopped.

The implants were capped, of course, but still, a direct neural connection to his brain. Not something you let strangers near.

She wasn't a stranger, not in any of the ways that mattered. Silver bent his head forward and felt her cool metal fingers trace the edges of the implant jacks, a touch as delicate as a surgeon's from hands that could rip apart a landcar. The forearm resting against his neck was as hard and unyielding as her fingers.

"Your arms," he asked. "Are they - ?"

Amieta drew back with a smile. "All the way up. Want to see?" Without waiting for an answer she shrugged out of her jacket and then yanked her shirt over her head in one economical movement. "Meets at the back here, they rebuilt the spine, can you see? It's pretty good work, I was pissed when it happened, though. Woke up in hospital with - what?"

Silver realized he was staring, couldn't stop. Amieta's body was a map of near-catastrophe, metal and scars, a hundred different ways she could have died if things had been a millimeter different, a hundred different ways she and he could never have found themselves in this maintenance corridor together tonight.

"What is it?" Amieta asked.

"I can't believe we're here. Here doing this." Silver said honestly. "That's all. I can't believe you're real."

She took him by the shoulders, "Damn right, I'm real."

Her gaze searched his. "Damn right," she said again, more softly. "And so are you. 'Silver Night'."

It was hours later when they emerged back into the light of the station. Silver straightened his coat and took a tactful step upwind of Amieta's cigarette.

They both began to speak at the same time, "Well that was-" "It was good to-"

They both stumbled to an awkward silence at the same time too. Amieta broke it first, "I should probably go. My cover here's pretty thin. If they review the video ..."

"Oh, of course."

"It was good to-." She shrugged, "It was good. I'll see you again. Sometime."

Her hand on his cheek was cool, even through the glove. The light brush of a kiss on his opposite cheek, "Bye."

He thought he was going to say 'Bye' too, as she turned and walked away. But she was leaving, and her body was a map of a hundred ways she might never make it to 'sometime' alive.

And it was her

It had always been her.

Silver opened his mouth to say goodbye, and it came out, "Come work for me."

Amieta turned back to him, "What?"

He pressed on, "Work for me. Be my XO - second in command."

"I've never..."

"I don't care. It doesn't matter. The pay's good, you have command experience, and..." He shrugged.

"And?" Amieta studied him.

"We'd be together." Silver realized he was begging, or close to it. "Not like - like this. It wouldn't be safe. But if we were careful, discreet ..."

Amieta hesitated, "I'm a criminal."

"I know that's not everything you are."

"What if I'm no good at it?"

Silver recognized a last, token protest, saw the smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, and exhaled in relief. "We'll put you in charge of chair breaking."

She hesitated, then nodded, "Okay. Okay, I'll do it."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah." She searched for another cigarette, "Guess I'm starting right away, before security wants me for questioning. We should go."

Silver smiled, "Of course. Welcome to the crew, Commander."

"Commander Invelen, I like that. Thank you, Captain Night."

Pirate Stories II

2010-09-17T15:50:00.000-07:00

YC??? (100 years ago. More or less.)

Hilion Narath heaved a bail of pikkan over the side of the trawler. The acrid smell of the dried plant hovered beneath the ever-present stink of fish. The stink would stay with the product, but the end users wouldn't care: it was low grade, and any grade of the mild narcotic was tough enough to get on the southern continent.

The sun beat down on the out-of-the-way cove, reddish sand fringed with a tangled, temperate jungle. Hilion was working shirtless and still pouring sweat. At 20, he had already given up hope of ever getting taller than his current 140cm. There was a mild, pleasant ache as he heaved up the next 40 kilo bale. He imagined he could feel the Cyberknight implants coil and uncoil alongside his muscles as he worked. The network of scars over his body were already fading, but a few were still fresh enough he could feel them pull as he tossed the bale to the dock.

All to get the old man political capital. When his father ran out of ways to buy influence directly, he'd started looking for indirect ways. Cyberknight offspring, smart move. But they're never gonna forget he just married into being a holder. It was always there, whenever Hilion went to one of their events. In the glances, in the comments murmured not quite quietly enough. Noone was ever going to see anything but a merchant, especially the old man when he looked in the mirror. Can't fault him for persistence though. Sure glad that leaving me flayed wouldn't have helped him feel more aristocratic.

Of course, Hilion figured maybe he owed the old man something, since it was his boats that were being used to move all the pikkan. He grabbed another bale and smiled.

Hilion had started small, but early: shop lifting expensive electronics when he was 11. Hit so many Holohuts, they've posted my picture in every damn one for 3 systems, he was bragging by thirteen - perhaps a slight exaggeration.

That was before he understood that bragging to the wrong people was a good way to get caught. Of course, when he was caught, his father would make it go away. He'd learned quick that rules were for other people, people who were happy with their boring lives, and he'd picked up plenty of useful skills along the way.

Hilion trotted down the gangway with the last bale and tossed it with the others, then approached the man receiving the shipment. The man's papers (which claimed he was a low level executive for a minor Lai Dai subsidiary) said his name was Verak Kenadenen. He finished tallying as Hilion stopped in front of him, and he smiled ever-so-slightly. "Everything seems to be in order, Narath. I've authorized payment, please verify that it has gone through."

Hilion checked on his com, saw the pleasantly hefty new amount resting in his numbered account with Intaki Bank. He squinted up at the taller Caldari with an easy grin, "Looks good, Verak. Nice doing business with you. This'll be the last for a while, storm season coming, eh?"

Verak nodded, swatting at the biting insects, "What're you going to do until the run opens up again?"

"Well..." Hilion shifted his weight and squinted out over the water, considering what to tell Verak. Truth was, without the southern trade, he was back to the risky, petty stuff for a while. Knocking over stores and hijacking transports and a bit of light extortion. "Ain't got solid plans. Lookin' into a few things."

"If there was something that was solid? Something that pays out, for someone like you?" The Caldari shielded his eyes against whipped up sand as a flyer juddered in just over the treetops, sky-green on it's bottom half, blotchy forest camo on it's top half. It landed with a dull thump and shuddered a moment, then the slaves and workers started loading bales into it's belly.

Hilion watched the work without really seeing it, considering, "Depends. I need to keep a low profile, so I can take the boats out next season for more 'fishing'."

"What if that wasn't an issue?"

Hilion glanced at Verak with alarm, "I'm not looking for anything that's gonna make me 'not an issue'."

"I mean, because you would be off-planet. As long as you wanted. I have some friends who are looking for people like you." 'Friends' meant the Cartel. Verak was a local lieutenant, dirtside, "They're looking for people who can operate on their own. Who have the knack."

"I got time to decide?"

"A couple weeks. Let me know, the usual channels." Verak jogged over to the flyer, which was spooling up for takeoff, fully loaded. He pulled himself into the cargo bay and yelled from the door, "Think about it!"

Hilion narrowed his eyes against the blowing sand and gave the Angel a wave as the flyer lifted off and wallowed away again, nearly scraping the uppermost branches of the trees.

Off-planet work.

Well, it did sound interesting.

Pirate Stories I

2010-09-14T23:23:00.000-07:00

YC92

Hilion Narath wished desperately for something stronger than the cloying spiced wine rapidly cooling on the tiny table. The galley of the Burning Fields felt even more crowded than usual. He squinted through bloodshot eyes at the man across from him: Oily-bald head, cheap-gaudy robes, pudgy-beringed fingers wiggling around as he made some point or other. Seghet was a slave trader and he was blathering on about how badly the Cartel was overcharging for this latest shipment and how Hilion's transport fees were practically sacrilege and Hilion hadn't really heard any of it in the last ten minutes, but it had given him a headache anyway.

Hilion choked down the dregs of the wine and forced on his most ingratiating smile, "Well, why don't we go check the goods, eh? A'fore we get too much further from Heaven? So's we can still make changes if it ain't all ta yer likin'."

"Finally, a useful suggestion. I trust the wares will meet expectation, at least." Seghet's expression made it clear he doubted they would, "Perhaps be of passable quality, this time."

Hilion gritted his teeth and motioned for the slaver to precede him. "A' course, a' course honored Seghet."

He herded the slaver and his lackeys toward the Dramiel's hold. Seghet nearly tripped over the unfamiliar curves on the ladder down, his men propping him up with difficulty in the narrow space.

"Best be careful, eh? All kinda weird, Angel tech, if you ain't used to it. Got it from you-know-whos." Hilion bobbed his head in what he imagined was a wise way, as if he knew a Jovian from a fedo. Seghet frowned back at him, perhaps trying to sort out what Hilion had said, and almost tripped again. He dropped past several steps and almost crushed one of his unfortunate minions. Hilion felt his headache easing.

The cargo hold was longer than it was wide, with loading doors at the far end. The slaves were huddled in a near corner, chains attached to their right ankles. Already smelling and we've hardly started the trip. Hilion stayed near the entrance and picked bits of spices from the wine out from between his teeth as Seghet and his two overseers began getting slaves up with kicks and slaps to be examined.

The slaves were mostly selected for useful skills; that's what made them worth getting illegally. Doctors, engineers, programmers, skilled tradesmen and others. Seghet was examining a big Brutor, and Hilion checked the manifest. Grisart (last name unkown), accountant.

The chained accountant slapped away the slaver's probing hands, and after a moment of shock Seghet rounded on Hilion, chins wobbling in outrage, "Can't you even keep your stock in line, pirate? He lay hands on my person. Do something about it."

Hilion shrugged disinterestedly, "These're fresh caught, bound to be a bit fiesty. Little spirit's important in an accountant, eh? Make's sure the books is cooked right, don't it? Anyway, once we make delivery, you can discipline 'em however you want, friend Seghet."

Seghet's face went redder. Little less bein' smart, next time. Hilion opened his mouth to try and placate the man, but the slaver spun, a blade flashed, and suddenly blood was welling up all across the slave's throat. Seghet's mouth twisted in satisfaction, and he turned to Hilion, "Maybe you will learn to better contro-"

But behind Seghet, the chained man hadn't fallen. Instead he stumbled forward, and grabbed the slaver by his cheap robes. Seghet squawked in protest, but the slave half shoved, half threw him toward the other end of the hold. The man was obviously almost unconscious, and it wasn't much of a throw, but the slaver was almost round. Seghet landed with a meaty thwack and rolled like an angry soft-boiled egg until he was nearly at the rear cargo door. Hilion was impressed.

The slave fell heavily and was still: dead or dying.

Hilion gestured peremptorily to Seghet's bodyguards, "Dun just stand there, eh? Go see 'es alright."

As they hurried to their fallen boss, Hilion scuttled over, skidding to a halt between the slaves and the slavers. He glanced at the accountant: another slave - a doctor - was working to save the injured man. Probably hopeless. A shame.

He turned back and waited as the bodyguards reached the other end of the hold, wringing their hands and hovering around their boss. He refused their help and tried to roll to his feet himself, his legs pumping in impotent rage. Gonna be messy. Maybe expensive. Hilion considered for a second, then shrugged and pressed his thumb to a pad on the wall. All about respect, really. A panel slid aside to reveal a big, red button. Some people just don't got manners. He smacked the button.

A shimmering curtain appeared, sealing off the slavers near the cargo door from the rest of the hold. Hilion spoke into the intercom, "'ey, you can hear me over there?"

Seghet had managed to get to his feet, run into the shimmering barrier, bounce off like a flabby kendu ball, and then get to his feet again, yelling.

Puffing, sweating, and almost purple in the face, the slaver managed to find the intercom on his side, "What's -"

Hilion cut him off with the same friendly smile, "Well, see, that's the I-F-F-A." He enunciated each letter carefully, "Stands fer Internal Force Field Array. It's fer hull breaches and like that. Cause we're 'bout to have a malfunction, see. This ship, she's always malfunctioning aroun' impolite dick-heads what damage the merchandise, eh? Give the Void a kiss fer me."

Hilion disconnected the intercom as Seghet started shouting again. The bodyguards were firing at the field with no effect. The pirate captain waved cheerfully, headache entirely gone, and opened the cargo doors to the vacuum of space.

And the accountant? He survived, but that's another story.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Epilogue

2010-08-22T14:00:00.000-07:00

And that was about it, really.

Haakinen took his package and his leave.

Siarente took Envelan up the umbilical to her ship.

Auvy took my hand and we went home.

I had the feeling that Sia wasn't going to find it as easy to get her sister back from the boosters as it had been to get her back from the Guristas, but it wasn't any of my business.

My fee arrived as promised, with a bonus 'for my trouble' that was itself double the sum agreed. So did a flat package wrapped in soft silver tissue and tied with the kind of elaborate bow that was clearly the product of someone's life-long practice. Rich people's shops had people like that, I knew, people who spent every working day making sure that the expensive things they sold were wrapped up in a way that made it clear just how expensive they were.

The package was addressed to Auvy, not to me. I didn't object to an excuse to see her again, so I took it over. When she pulled the ends of the bow the whole thing slithered open to reveal a pool of pale fabric the same color as shrip tea, a pale green promise of sweet refreshment, with a name discreetly stitched into the hem that made Auvy's eyes widen.

Straight from the Crystal Boulevard, with Siarente Ross's thanks for Auvy's help.

The money was an easy gesture, but the dress had taken at least a few moment's thought and effort. Seeing Auvy's smile when she saw it made me hope Siarente's faith in her sister wasn't misplaced, that Envelan would find something worth staying sober for, at least some days of the week.

And that I'd be lucky enough to never see either of them again.

Auvy, of course, had to try the dress on right away. She whisked away to the 'fresher, and I helped myself to a drink and took out my neocom to look again at the little twirling holo next to Sia's entry in my transaction list. Pretty girl, blue eyes, blonde hair.

She didn't look like trouble.

I sipped my whiskey and looked at the holo and thought about that, about podders who looked and acted like normal people, about the vast dark spaces between the stars where they lived as comfortably as I lived in my one room with its fold-down bed and fold-out table. About capsuleer ethics, about love and family and other lost causes that people would risk everything for before they gave up the faith.

I mighta got maudlin, but Auvy came back from the 'fresher, wearing her new dress.

Auvy did look like trouble, especially in that dress. Well, she is trouble.

But not the kind a smart man would want to avoid.

And not the kind a man would ever regret.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 14

2010-08-22T10:00:00.000-07:00

At a gesture from Haakinen, Envelan was yanked forward to stand in front of the desk, beside Sia's chair. Everyone seemed to have forgotten me and Auvy, which was just fine as far as I was concerned.

"I have a package I need moved," Haakinen said. "A small package. And a sensitive one."

Sia nodded, looking a little pale. "You want me to take it?"

"Through null-sec?" Envelan protested. "Sia, no. I- I've got the implants too. I'll do it. I can fly a shuttle."

Saying that seemed to scare her a lot more than the idea of being tossed out an airlock had a few seconds before.

Haakinen glanced from Envelan to Sia, "I had understood that your implants were... non-functional, Ms Envelan. Regardless, it doesn't matter to me who does it as long as it gets done. But whoever it is better be able to do it."

"I can," Sia said. "I have a good fit. Fast."

"A shuttle's fast," Envelan countered. "It's my mess."

"A shuttle?" Sia said. "In null-sec? Through gate camps and bubbles? No, Ani. Be sensible. I'm the pilot. Would you let me lead a boarding party instead of you?"

Envelan shook her head, jaw set, face white. "That's different. I don't want you tangled -" She snapped her mouth shut, then said "I don't want you here."

"Maybe it's different," Sia said. "And maybe you don't want me here. But I am. And I think I have a better chance of getting through. Don't you?" She reached out and put her hand over Envelan's. "It won't take long. I'll be right back, and ... we can talk then."

Envelan closed her eyes for a second, and then her expression hardened and she yanked her hand out from under Sia's. "My answer's not going to be any different then."

"Of course," Haakinen said, "if something should happen and the package is lost, some other way to pay the debt will need to be found. I will see that your sister and associates are well taken care of until you return, Ms Ross."

The threat was really just a formality, we all knew what'd happen if Sia didn't do the job. But then, Haakinen seemed like a formal kinda guy.

Sia glanced at him, and then looked back at Envelan. "Nothing will happen. And if anything happens to my sister while I'm away, M'ser ..." She paused. "They tell me I am likely to live a very long time."

Haakinen inclined his head. "We understand each other," he said. "The package will be waiting for you at the Intaki Commerce Trading Post station in DP34-U. And it is delicate, Captain Ross. Do not take too long."

Sia stood up and glanced at Envelan, who shot a startled glance at Sia exactly as if the pilot had spoken.

She had, I realized. Guess Sia isn't the only one in the room with an internal neocom.

The two women looked at each other for a moment, and then Envelen shrugged a little and nodded.

A flicker of hurt showed in Sia's eyes as she turned and left, face pale but head held high.

They offered Auvy and me seats once the grown-ups were done discussing business. Envelan took out a pack of cigarettes, and without asking Haakinen if he minded, lit one with the same combustible fingersnap she'd used before. Sitting there, feeling like I was facing a school exam except this time it was one I had to let someone else take for me, I almost wished I smoked. It seemed to keep Envelan calm, except for the fine tremor in those metal fingers holding the cigarette.

Her unfocused gaze fixed on the floor, she muttered something. Thinking she was trying to avoid Haakinen overhearing something, I leaned over and hissed, "What?"

She blinked and frowned, then hissed back in a rush, "Wasn't talking to you."

Right. Most people learn pretty quick to keep their internal neocom conversations, well, internal.

Mind, most people generally weren't the casein-grey color Envelan had gone, and most people wouldn't have been sweating that much in a pleasantly temperature-controlled room.

She drew on her cigarette again, the tremor gone to a shake, and muttered, "Use the cloak. Hit warp, cloak right away.Good. You're doing good. I'm not going anywhere. Just - " She clenched her jaw and bent forward, almost suppressing a groan.

I wasn't the only one who could recognize withdrawal.

"Something to make your wait more comfortable?" Haakinen asked. The corners of his mouth twitched up again, "On the house."

Envelan glanced at him. "Fuck...off." Her chattering teeth nipped the words into little pieces, but her expression was crystal clear. She bowed her head, eyes closed, and murmured "Just be careful. I'm here. You'll be okay."

Auvy and I waited, me at least trying to eavesdrop, until Envelan's whispered Thank the Ancestors and a blink on the display on Haakinen's desk both signaled Sia's safe arrival back at the station.

Envelan opened her eyes and went to draw on the cigarette that had burned itself to the filter between her fingers. She grimaced and flicked it away, tapping out another with hands shaking so badly it took her three tries to get the cigarette in her mouth.

"She says you can have your package when we're all at the hangar," Envelan said.

They hustled us down there, and there were a couple of tense moments with Sia and her guards on one side with Haakinen's package on a cargo-loader, and us on the other. Lots of people with guns and hard stares. I took Auvy's hand to make her feel better, or maybe to make me feel better. Envelan stared at the floor, shivering.

"The package first, please," Haakinen said.

Sia shook her head. "At the same time, I think."

He nodded slightly. Sia gave a signal and the trolley edged forward. The three of us started forward as well, dodging the trolley as we passed it.

Sia's guards closed around us and I breathed a sigh of relief, and realized how strange my life had gotten: surrounded by a podder's armed guards inside her hangar wasn't what most people thought of as safe.

She reached out to Envelan. Envelan, pale and sweating, kept her distance.

Sia let her hand drop to her side.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 13

2010-08-22T06:00:00.000-07:00

The room they herded us into was like a Caille socialite: a lot of time and money had been spent making it look like a picture out of a magazine, and the result was perfectly put together and perfectly empty of anything that even remotely resembled individuality or personality. At one end was a desk so bland it almost put me to sleep looking at it, and sitting behind it was a nondescript Caldari who looked like an accountant, if accountants really looked the way the directors of holos thought. His suit was in a style a couple years out of date, and it looked a little worn, but well cared for - it went well with the old-fashioned spectacles and the comb-over. He was flipping through an expense report as we were hustled into the middle of the room.

Varakin Haakinen, the most powerful Gurista on the station, didn't look up.

I exchanged a glance with Auvy, neither of us having to say aloud what we were both thinking. This doesn't look good.

Envelan caught the look. "This has nothing to do with you," she said. "Haakinen is a business man, no profit in hurting bystanders. This is my problem."

I couldn't quite share her faith in Haakinen's reasonableness.

I leaned closer to Envelan, "You're the Rabbit. What happens now?"

She shrugged. "We wait," she said. "Take our chance when it comes. I'll get you out of here, anyway." She was talking to me but looking at Sia as she spoke, and then frowned a little. "Sia?"

I turned. The pilot's face was pale, and she had the glassy-eyed expression of someone trying to decide whether throwing up or passing out was the better option.

"Do you think I might have some water?" she asked softly and very politely, and then folded up where she stood.

Envelan brushed me aside and caught Sia before she could hit the ground. All around us, hands went to guns. Envelan ignored them, and lowered Sia gently to the floor. The podder wasn't out, not quite, mumbling that she was okay, she'd missed breakfast, she was fine.

"Someone get a medic," Envelan ordered, exactly as if she was in charge, and the authority in her voice was enough to make a couple of our guards twitch reflexively.

Haakinen glanced up, and said mildly, "I appreciate your desire to stick to a winning tactic, but I think you'll find the staff here a little better trained than Inheras's."

"She's not faking," Envelan said. "She's not cut out for this sort of shit." When Haakinen's expression didn't change, she added almost pleadingly. "'At least let her have some water."

Haakinen considered, then nodded slightly. A flunky brought a glass of water, the guards watching closely as he set it down near Envelan and beat a hasty retreat. Envelan dipped one finger in it before she helped Sia sit up and held the glass for the pilot to sip.

"Expecting poison, Ms Envelan?" Haakinen with faint amusement.

"Not really," Envelan said. "But I'd kick myself if I turned out to be wrong."

Sia finished the water. A little color had come back to her cheeks and now she just looked tired, mostly.

"Just take it easy," Envelan told her, more gently than I would have believed she was capable of. "You'll be out of here in no time and the docs'll fix you up."

"I'm all right," Sia said. "It's just this vertigo, since they put the neocom in." She rubbed restlessly at the skin behind her ear and Envelan reached out to capture Sia's hand in her own. Sia blinked and started. "I'm all right, Ani, really." She squeezed Envelan's metal fingers with a weary little smile, and for a fraction of a second they looked like the sisters Sia kept insisting they were.

Then Envelan yanked her hand away and got back to her feet. She turned to face Haakinen, who'd been watching the two of them with alert interest. "Look," Envelan said. "I know you and me have got some things to sort out. But the others, they have nothing to do with this."

"But I think they have a great deal to do with this," Haakinen said mildly. He touched a button on that bland desk and a holo-display spray to life above his head: Sia in the Colonel's HQ, at the poker table, me in the background, Inheras pushing a stack of chips into the middle of the table. Haakinen steepled his fingers. "Inheras is quite ... resentful at losing so much money to a cardsharp. And I tend to agree we should discourage people with the idea of cheating our organisation."

"I didn't cheat," Sia said from the floor. She tried to get her feet under her to stand. When no-one else moved, I took her arm to help her. She swayed a little and then steadied. "Not M'ser Inheras, anyway."

"You just happen to be that good a poker player?" Haakinen said with polite disbelief.

Sia smiled, sweet and guileless as if she'd never ripped open a battleship's hull and sent thousands to their deaths. "I'm quite good at mathematics," she said, and let go of my arm to run her fingers through her hair. The honey-colored curls bunched between her fingers, revealing the pale column of her neck - and the glittering jeweled caps over her podder plugs.

There was a little silence in the room, as if everybody was simultaneously taking a quiet, careful breath. Haakinen looked at Sia with an expression as neutral as the dull blank case around a racing warp-core. "I see."

Sia let her hair fall back over her shoulders. It shifted and rustled as she shrugged slightly. "And besides," she said, "He should have paid as much attention to my cards as he did to my cleavage." She blushed a little as she said it, like a schoolgirl pronouncing a dirty word or a Kaalakiota accountant announcing less than seven percent ROI.

Haakinen looked at her gravely. "I'll pass on your advice," he promised, and gestured to a flunky. "Bring Captain - ?"

"Ross," Sia supplied.

"Bring Captain Ross a chair."

The chair was set on the other side of the desk to him. Sia settled herself in it, calm as cooled casein, if you couldn't see the rapid flutter of the pulse in her neck. She had to know what Haakinen did, what everyone else in the room knew now: a pod pilot wasn't an inconvenience or a future 'example'. In Haakinen's ledger, Sia Ross had just gone from a silly little rich girl out of her depth to someone who could easily have brought a small army to avenge Inheras's efforts to get his own back.

I wished she had, right about then. Even on short acquaintance though, I could tell: that wasn't the sort of thing that would occur to Siarente Ross.

Haakinen's expression hadn't changed, but there was a tension in the air as the silence stretched on. You didn't make an example of a podder, but you might make them and everyone who'd seen them near you disappear to protect yourself. For a moment it seemed likely that Haakinen would solve his problems the old-fashioned way: by tossing it out an airlock. I wasn't the only one who it occurred to, I glanced at Envelan and saw the thin blue lines of nano-tatts creeping up her neck. War paint. She was as tense - more tense than I was, like an anti-matter charge in the breech, just waiting to explode into self-annihilating destruction.

Then Haakinen sighed, "Inheras can sometimes let his temper override his better judgement. I will see to it he apologizes, and I trust we can leave this unfortunate lapse of his behind us." He gestured to Auvy and me, "Can your associates see you to where you would like to be, or would you like an escort?"

It was clearly a dismissal, and just as clearly, Envelan wasn't included.

Sia paused. "I'm sure that my three friends can see me safely home."

"I'm afraid we have a misunderstanding," Haakinen said. "Ms Envelan's betrayed the trust we placed in her, Ms Ross. She killed several of my employees - her colleagues. I'm sure that you understand that I can't let something like that go."

"Mmm," Sia said. "I'm afraid we do have a misunderstanding. I can't leave without Ani."

"You can," Envelan said. "And you will."

"You'll have to leave without Ms Envelan," Haakinen said. "Or not leave at all." The threat was unmistakable. The risk benefit analysis had clearly changed.

"Get the fuck out, Sia," Envelan said. "I told you: I don't want you here."

Sia flinched a little at the harsh note in Envelan's voice, but her gaze stayed steady on Haakinen. "I can't leave without her."

"Why not?" Haakinen asked. "What is she to you?"

"She's - "

Envelan cut her off. "No-one. I'm no-one. So kick the podder out and she'll forget all about this. Won't you."

Haakinen narrowed his eyes, and remarked to no-one in particular "I do hate taking risks I don't understand."

He flicked a finger and one of the guards stepped forward, drawing her gun in the same smooth motion. Sia's yelp of surprise was barely audible beneath Envelan's snarl as the guard grabbed Sia by one arm and pressed the muzzle of the gun to her cheek.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Envelan lunged, nanotatts flooding over her face, eyes wide and teeth bared, but the guards were ready for her. Sia screamed and kept screaming, shrill as a boiling kettle, as Envelan went down, five of them holding her, face to the floor, prosthetic arms twisted up behind her back past the point my arms would have broken, and still struggling.

"'No-one', I see," Haakinen said. "Hardly seems so."

"Don't hurt her!" Sia was crying, words barely intelligible through her sobs, not pretty tears calculated for effect but the brink of hysteria. "Please, please, don't hurt her, please!"

Haakinen looked from one to the other. "That is really up to her, Captain Ross. One more time, Ms Envelan. How do you know Captain Ross? Why did you kill your own colleagues to protect her?"

Envelan hesitated, and the guard by Sia pushed the gun harder against her face, the pressure of the muzzle turning the skin white.

"My sister." Envelan's tone was tinged with defeat, "She's my sister."

I saw the glances pass between the guards holding her down. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed to me that their grips eased a bit, too.

Caldari put a lot of stock in family. And the Guristas might have plenty of Caldari who don't quite fit in to the State, but they were Caldari, all the same.

"Well," Haakinen said. "Why didn't you say so?"

He flicked a finger and the guards holding Envelan hauled her to her feet, while the one holding the gun to Sia's head holstered her weapon and stepped back. Sia scrubbed at her tear-stained cheeks with her hands and took a step towards her sister, then stopped as Envelan moved just exactly that much away.

"It doesn't change anything," Envelan said. "She's got nothing to do with it. Send her back to her hangar."

Haakinen looked like he might be balancing accounts for all the expression he showed. "Nice try, Ms Envelan. Let loose a pod pilot with a blood feud?"

"It not for her the way it is for us," Envelen said urgently. "You can let her go - she won't hold a grudge."

"Is that true, Captain Ross? Family doesn't mean to you what it would to a Caldari?"

Sia took a shaking breath and found some reserves of composure from somewhere. "I don't know," she said. "I suppose we can't ever know exactly what's in someone else's head, can we? Maybe it is different for me. All I can tell you is, I won't leave here without my sister. I can't."

Envelan closed her eyes. "Sia ..."

Haakinen studied Sia for a moment, then Envelan. "Inheras seems to be making all sorts of errors of judgement lately." Suddenly, I wouldn't have given a bent half-syn for Inheras's career prospects. "Well, we have a problem. Ms Envelan's actions may have been inevitable, given Inheras's misunderstanding of the situation, but there is still a debt to be paid."

Envelan nodded. "Let my sister go. I'll pay what needs to be paid."

"I don't think you should be giving orders." A twitch at the corners of Haakinen's mouth, "And I don't think you'll be able to make the kind of payment I have in mind."

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 12

2010-08-21T14:00:00.000-07:00

We were all hurrying back to the side entrance when Sami commed again, and I put my neocom on speaker, "I've got some good news, and some bad news. And you aren't gonna like the good news."

"Well, just tell us both." Envelan looked impatient.

"Bad news is that with the alarm going off, they've locked down the way you came in, and they are working to lock me out of the system. Good news is I managed to keep another way out unlocked..."

"And?"

"And it's the front entrance."

Envelan and Auvy both cursed, and I admit I might'a said a couple words that mama Tarva would have hit me with a spoon for knowing. There wasn't much to be done, though. We followed Envelan's lead toward the front.

Sami still had access to some of the internal surveillance, so she helped us avoid a lot of the 'ristas goons in the maze of corridors that made up most of the HRW complex - which meant they were coming up fast behind us when we broke out across the lobby.

Sia was bringing up the rear, limping in her single shoe, clearly not as used to running for her life as me or Envelan - or Auvy, since she'd started hanging around with me.

We stopped at the last corner before the lobby. A quick peek showed the 'receptionist' had found a mag carbine and a couple armed friends somewhere, and an auto-turret nosed around suspiciously from its mount in the ceiling. Things were looking bad.

Then the sharp, piercing bark no spacer wants to hear: The hull breach alarm.

It was only moments before the insistent blatting was almost drowned out by a rush of air past us and doors slamming shut behind us. The lobby doors slammed open as atmo was sucked into HRW. Flashing arrows lit up urgently indicating that out the door and well away would be a better place to be, and a pressure door started dropping across the entrance. Dropping slowly.

The three in the lobby ran for it, too distracted to notice the auto-turret now hung limp, swaying listlessly in the gale.

One of the arrow-strips near me started scrolling words, "Get going, love Sami."

We made a break for it across the empty lobby.

Once we were outside, we picked up the pace. We were barely outside before someone had over-ridden the alarm and gotten the internal doors back open. Guristas swarmed out of HRW like fighters out of a Nyx. We dodged down a side corridor, cut through a stall selling knock-off Dessuetto bags and then dropped down a level via a service staircase. Sia finally lost that lone shoe.

I was in front as we burst out of the stairwell, so I'm the one that bounced off a wall wearing a grey Huas suit. The others skidded to a halt behind me.

We were facing a semi-circle of big and ugly. These weren't your Syn-a-dozen muscle. These were people with enough wiring and modification that they probably needed a permit to walk down the street anywhere except Syndicate. Veterans of fights where being all-human meant being dead. These weren't Knuckles' goons, they were a whole better class of thug. One of them gave us a nasty smile, "Boss wants to see you."

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 11

2010-08-21T10:00:00.000-07:00

It took me a moment of flailing panic before I realized that it wasn't one of the Bunnies on top of me. The form I was tangled up with was too soft and yielding to be a guard, and no self-respecting gangster would have chosen such a delicately floral perfume.

"Having fun there, Rory?" Auvy said acerbically, standing over me.

"Would you mind," Sia said politely, "Moving your hand?"

I let go of the pilot's - well, I moved my hand - and she scrambled up off me.

Auvy folded her arms. "Are you going to get up?" she said. "Or just lie there until the Rabbits catch up with us?"

"How did you - ?" I asked as Envelan reached down and hauled me bodily to my my feet.

"Oh, we should sit around waiting for your heroic rescue?" Auvy said. She shrugged. "Sia came over all faint and when the bozo they had watching us rushed to help her, I hit him over the head from behind." She rolled her eyes. "He was too distracted by the chance to cop a feel to hear me coming. Why is that breasts make men so stupid?"

There were a dozen things I could have said to that, none of them wise.

Envelan saved me. "Hate to interrupt the reunion," she said, "but we tripped at least one alarm on the way in and someone's going to check on you two sooner rather than later." She jerked her head towards the way we'd come. "Less chit-chat, more running."

"You tripped an alarm?" Auvy said, starting down the hall. "That's really helpful, Rory, why didn't you just send Knuckles a mail to let him know his prisoners were escaping?"

"Look, I didn't know you'd have everything under control when I got here," I said, following her.

Behind me, Sia reached out a hand towards Envelan. "Ani ..."

Envelan drew back. "Get moving," she said curtly. "Try to get back to the hangar without getting anyone else killed, can you?"

Sia flinched, and limped after Auvy, wearing the one shoe that hadn't been left on the floor of the storeroom.

Envelan met my eyes with a hard don't-give-a-fuck stare.

If I hadn't seen her face when she'd realized the 'rista's had Sia, I might have even been convinced.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 10

2010-08-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

HRW Transport didn't look much like a front for the Guristas. I guess that's the point though. Sami's collection of video feeds showed the front entrance was in a nice, upmarket business district. Plants - real ones - ran down the broad corridor in front of HRW's doors. A corporate logo; understated, expensive looking furniture; a desk with a receptionist visible inside the lobby.

There were signs, if you knew what to look for, that there was something a bit different about HRW though. Those doors were thick enough to distort the image inside ever so slightly, and and in a way plain glass wouldn't. A close look showed that an awful lot of the people going in and out of the HRW complex were discreetly armed, too.

Well, that was why we weren't going in the front.

The side entrance that Sami and Envelan had decided on was accessed through the back of a place selling shoes, two levels higher and in a section mostly occupied by factory works and people in the service industries: people who couldn't afford to see whatever the 'ristas might get up to.

I waved off an Achura fellow who couldn't have been much more than four feet tall and told him I didn't need any help finding my size. Envelan glared at him when he persisted, and I was glad for his sake when he backed off. She might blame herself for Sia getting taken, but I wasn't sure she wouldn't take it out on someone else anyway.

The entrance was behind a false panel in the back. We waited for the little guy to be distracted and then slipped into the 'employees only' area. Sami did her magic and the door slid open, revealing a surprised looking guard. I gave her a good whap with my stun-stick before Envelan could do anything more permanent. Envelan snorted and ducked into the corridor beyond. I followed close behind her. Sami called, "Rory, looks like you tripped something. A general alarms gonna go up in the next couple minutes. That's as long as I could delay it."

I was telling Envelan about the alarm, when three more Guristas came around a corner ahead of us.

They were surprised to see us, and that's probably what saved our asses. It gave us time to get close enough before they could draw. Envelan clocked one, who went out like a light - just unconcious, I hoped. I jabbed the other in the stomach with the stun-stick, then gave him a tap to the back of the head on his way down to make sure he got plenty of rest.

Envelan was struggling with the last guy. He didn't look like much, but he was holding his own, and they were both moving faster than I could follow. So he was wired.

Still, he seemed pretty focused on Envelan, so I picked my moment, and whacked him upside the head. Envelan glared at me like I'd just kicked her favorite puppy, but I guess that's gratitude for ya.

"Come on," I said, starting forward. "Sami says they're - "

I rounded the corner and got knocked straight on my back.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 9

2010-08-20T10:00:00.000-07:00

Sami's news wasn't good. Envelan had gone well and truly to ground, no surprise given what the Guristas must have thought of the outcome of the last job they'd sent her on. There were parts of the station where even the 'ristas trod warily, where Sami's electronic tendrils could catch only glimpses, and Envelan had lost herself in these. Sami reported what she did see, over the next few days. Envelan leaving the 'office' of a known dealer. Envelan at different clubs so far below-decks they were practically sitting on the planet. Envelan beating some poor mugger stupid or desperate enough to try his chances with her. Never more than five or ten minutes in one place, never the same place twice. She knew what she was doing, maybe by instinct since Sami said even in those few places she saw her, she was obviously high as the podder-decks. Maybe the Guristas were even more relaxed about their employees' habits than I'd heard.

Or maybe it was just that Envelan didn't even have a job as an enforcer to make it worthwhile to stay sober enough to get out of bed in the morning.

It took some doing to talk Sia out of heading straight after her, but a few pointed references to the outcome of her last bright idea eventually seemed to get through.

She worried that full lower lip between her teeth for a moment. "Well," she said at last, "If I can't go to her, she'll just have to come tome."

"She made it pretty clear that wasn't on the cards," I reminded her.

Sia waved that away. "She'll come," she said. "I know how to make her. Rory, we'll need somewhere that isn't here. Somewhere less secure."

I could have asked her how many bodyguards she was planning to get killed.

Maybe I should have.

Sami found the place. A storeroom near the edge of a Gurista territory we could rent. Envelan would know what that location might mean. We got there - me, Sia, and Auvy - and Sia made the call.

I dunno what she said over her internal neocom, but from the look on her face it wasn't Captain Ross would be obliged if you would join her for tea.

She opened her eyes and said quietly. "She didn't answer. I left a message. She'll come as soon as she hears it."

"I hope you're right," I said, and not just because sitting here so close to 'ristas territory gave me a strange naked feeling, and not in a good way.

Sia smiled bright, bright like neon and plastic flowers, "She'll come. Soon."

We'd been waiting in the storeroom for six hours, me getting even more nervous than I had been, Sia's confidence beginning to waver, Auvy doing her nails. Then I saw a flash of hard blue through the window. I recognized the eyes, even if the dark circles under them were so deep the shadows looked like bruises. I got to my feet. Auvy and Sia turned at the movement, and Sia spoke, "What-"

I interrupted her, "Think I saw something. Stay here, I'll check it out real quick."

It looked like she was about to say something else, but Auvy put a hand on her arm and said something quietly to her. That was my last look at them as I slipped out into the corridor and hurried in the direction I'd seen the eyes go. I caught up with Envelan just around the corner.

Then I realized I didn't know what to say. "Hey you!"

She spun. "Who the fuck are you, and what do you want?"

Her clothes looked like she'd slept in them, more than once; limp strands of hair had come loose from their ponytail and hung lankly in her bloodshot eyes. A muscle jumped irregularly in her cheek. She looked like she'd been at the bottom of an ore bin when it was tipped into the refinery; like if she'd tried to donate herself to one of the black market biomass dealers, they'd turn her down for quality control reasons.

Or like the fourth day of a three day bender.

I held my hands up, "Whoa. Just someone your sister hired. She just wants to help you."

Envelan took out a cigarette, fingers moving in quick, nervous twitches, "I already told her, I don't need any spirits-damned help. You know what's good for you, you'll make sure she understands that." She snapped her fingers and a flare of plasma incinerated the top half of the cigarette. "Shit. This little plan your idea?"

"Hers," I said. "She said you'd come if she was in trouble. Of course, that was six hours ago."

Envelan drew on the cigarette and looked away. "I overslept. So I guess she can't rely on me after all, can she? She's better off - "

A scream, quickly muffled, came from back in the direction of the storeroom. Envelan was past me at a sprint before the cigarette she dropped hit the ground.

I followed her almost as fast.

One of Sia's blue velvet shoes lay on its side in the middle of the floor.

Other than that, the room was empty.

The expression on Envelan's face looked like the chill in your guts when that outside airlock door opens. She spoke so low I almost didn't catch it, "Ancestors wept, I led them right to her."

My neocom buzzed. It was Sami. "The alley out the back," she said, without any of her usual preliminaries. "Six of them, heading left - "

I took off, Envelan following me this time. The alley was already empty when we got there and I headed left.

It was a blur: We ran past hard-eyed dealers and their muscle; past men, women, and more exotic genders wearing more makeup than clothes and cat-calling from just outside luridly painted hatches; past food-stalls selling grey-on-a-stick that'd probably seen the inside of a chemical drum, but never the inside of a hydro-bay or growing vat, much less a real sky.

We seemed to be gaining, but Sami's directions grew more and more hesitant.

I came to a stop at the junction of six corridors. "Which way, Sami?"

"I - " she paused, and then admitted. "I don't know. You're in a blind spot and -"

I swore.

"I'm sorry, Rory," Sami said, and she really did sound sorry.

Envelan caught up with me, panting. "Where - ?"

"We lost them," I said.

"Spirits fuck," she snarled, "Trust a low rent incompetent - " I expected her to go on to her opinion of my ancestry - that's how it usually goes, in my experience - but whatever else she had been going to say disappeared in a grunt of pain and she leaned forward, curling around like someone had just kicked her in the stomach and bracing herself against the wall.

I took a quick step backwards before she threw up, and asked cautiously. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fucking fine." Envelan straightened, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, and looked around. "You try that way, I'll go - " She turned around on the spot, picked a direction and staggered a few steps.

"Not sure that's a good idea, Envelan," I said, heading after her, grabbing her sleeve when she kept going.

She spun back, hand raised for a blow, then lost her balance with the movement and fell heavily against the wall. "Shit. Shit." Her artificial arms twitched spasmodically and she began to shiver, tried to get up and then vomited again.

"Look," I said, squatting down not too close to her. "We need to make a plan. Sami will keep trying to find them. Once they stop moving, she's got a better chance."

Envelan looked at me, or tried to, her gaze persistently tracking left every time she brought it back to my face. "I led them right to her. I've got to get her back."

"You've got to get yourself sorted out before you can help her," I pointed out.

The trip back to my office was no picnic, but we managed, and I got her a good strong cup of coffee. She cleaned up in the restroom while I was making it, and when she came back she looked a lot better.

I was careful not to ask. "We need to make a plan. Sami should know where they were taken pretty soon."

"We find out where they are." She looked at me, her voice deepened to a hoarse growl, "We go in and get her. Them."

"Well, that's certainly a very simple plan. Let's add we do that with as little noise and violence as we can manage." I sighed and explained, "We don't need heat coming down on us while we're there, and we don't need them being too excited about following us either."

"Fine. Fast, quiet, and as few casualties as possible."

I figured that was the best I was likely to get. I nodded, and Sami piped up, "Found them."

Sia and Auvy had been taken to the offices of a Guristas front company, HRW Transport. Envelan shook her head at the name, "Should have fucking knew it. When Inheras isn't busy being Haakinen's lap-dog, that's where he runs his parts of the operation from. Hell, I've been there before. Security's tight, especially at the front entrance, but there are a couple side entrances that might have potential. Less security cause Inheras doesn't want too many people seeing what goes ina nd out through them."

"Sami, can you open one of those side entrances?"

"By the time you two get over there? Yeah. Probably."

"That'll have to do." I studied Envelan for a moment, "Are you-"

"You worry about yourself, you unwired, feddie rent-a-cop."

Well, she was right, it didn't matter. I was going to get Auvy out, one way or another, with or without her help.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 8

2010-08-19T12:00:00.000-07:00

"She didn't mean it," Siarente said.

"She sounded a lot like she meant it," I said cautiously. True, she'd killed her buddies when she saw it was Sia she'd been sent to 'educate'. I wasn't sure much weight could be put behind a bit of casually fatal violence from someone who was working as an enforcer for 'Knuckles' Inheras though. My impression of Envelan so far was that she was a tail and set of teeth away from being a rabid slaver hound.

Auvy patted Siarente's shoulder and gave me a glare. "Of course she didn't mean it," she told the pilot soothingly.

I sighed, although since I have a certain rudimentary sense of self-preservation I did so silently.

I'd called Auvy because leaving a white-faced and shaking Siarente with no-one but her crew for company hadn't seemed like a terrific idea. Not that Auvy was the comforting, maternal type, but if I was going to stick around until Sia recovered her composure it seemed smart to make sure Auvy knew that's all there was to it.

For some reason, she doesn't always take my word about these things.

So I'd called her, explained what happened. By the time she'd got down to the hangar Siarente had moved on from shock straight into denial.

"Ani would never - she would never mean something like that," she said now.

"Whether she meant it or not," I said, "She seemed pretty clear that she wanted you to leave her alone."

"You don't know her," Siarente said. "She must have - I told you, she's in trouble. And she - Ani always wants to protect me."

I looked at her arm, the four-fingers-and-a-thumb bruise blooming up nicely. "It seems to me that you might not know her either. Killing someone's bodyguard is a funny way to protect them, where I come from."

Siarente looked down. "I told you she was in trouble," she said quietly. "She's - not quite herself."

The story came out in fits and starts, interrupted by tears. Unspecified 'difficulties', an old booster habit, erratic behavior and a vanishing act. Not a new story, although I guessed maybe it was new to her.

I didn't know whether to be mad at her for not telling me sooner that the missing sister was a one-woman-killing-machine with a taste for mind-altering, judgement-destroying substances, or mad at myself for not asking.

Auvy and I exchanged glances, and Auvy said: "Maybe you need to give her a bit of time. Things like this, you can't force people - "

"No," Sia said, firmly, and then ruined the effect with a hiccuping sob. "I have to find her. She wouldn't - she would never have said those things to me unless - unless she's in real trouble."

I didn't say it to Sia, but Envelan was bound to be in 'real trouble' now, if she hadn't been before. You don't kill 'ristas without it coming back on you, not here, not anywhere. "Look," I started. "You can't- "

"Get your ring back, Mr Tarva?" Sia said. Her voice was soft and even, her expression mild, but right at that moment I remembered I was dealing with a podder here, with the kind of clout to have me and Auvy pushed out and airlock in front of a hundred witnesses and never have to answer for it.

And the theoretically immortal have a lot of time to hold grudges.

Besides, a deal was a deal. In my line of work, if you can't stick to your deals you better find another line of work.

"All right," I said. "But you let me - or Sami - track her down. No more adventures, Captain Ross." I glanced around the hangar. "I'd hate for you to run out of bodyguards."

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 7

2010-08-18T14:00:00.000-07:00

It was a long walk back to the docks and the hangars. Sia had insisted we walk, and she didn't seem interested in making it any quicker, either.

We'd gotten out of the HQ alright, but that wasn't reassuring. No, if 'Knuckles' was planning to teach Sia a lesson in life to match the way she'd schooled him at poker, it wouldn't happen in the Colonel's HQ.

It would happen in a little twisty corridor with no witnesses.

Kinda like the one we were in at the moment.

I tried to hurry Sia along, but she slowed further. "These shoes are a nightmare, Rory." She paused to look down at her feet and then looked up at me with a girlish giggle. "Spiky and vertical."

It was the same look and the same giggle she'd used on the Colonel and I guessed it was meant to have the same effect - to get me to forget any inconvenient questions I might have.

It might have worked, too, under other circumstances, but the possibility of thugs with heavy hands and twitchy trigger fingers concentrates the mind. My mind, anyway.

I ignored the giggle and kept Sia moving.

"You really don't want to be out here longer than you have to be." I glanced over my shoulder. "Where's the rest of your security, anyway?"

"I sent them back to the hangar," Siarente said.

"You should call them back. You took a lot of money from someone who likes his money a lot tonight."

She linked her arm through mine, wobbling in her high heels. "Don't worry so much, Rory. I wasn't born yesterday, you know. Not even this clone was."

I steadied her and picked up the pace again, ignoring her protests. "I can tell. You had that crowd eating out of your hand."

She gave a tired little sigh, and all the playfulness leaked out of her face like air from a punctured EVA suit. For a minute she didn't look at all young anymore. Not that she looked old, either, exactly, but for the space of that soft breath 'young' and 'old' were just words for her, words that didn't have any meaning when it came to herself. Nor did 'life' and 'death', maybe.

I got cold, and a little scared. Scared of her, or scared for her, I don't know.

Podders can look enough like normal people to fool you. For a while.

"Well," Sia said, "Mama always said - "

Next thing I knew I was hanging onto the wall, which was determined to come loose and start waltzing around the corridor. I held it steady until it calmed down. By then the sounds of a scuffle behind me had gone silent, but it wasn't an empty silence. It was a full silence, like the silence between the first shot of a war and the second, or the silence of a falling kinetic round. An ugly silence.

My head was spinning plenty on its own, but I managed to get it turned around so I could see what was happening. Everyone ignored me: the two guys in Gurista's colors on the ground because they were dead, Siarente because she was crammed into a doorway behind her bodyguard, the bodyguard because she was too busy deciding who to shoot next, and the rest of the Guristas because the gun in Helmi's hand was a lot more of a threat than I was.

I recognized the woman in charge from the casino. Well, I recognized the dull, patterned metal of her hands, mostly. She was the only one of the Guristas that hadn't drawn a weapon. She swung at Neve, hard and fast, and the gun went flying. Neve grabbed Siarente by the arm and shoved her along the alley. The pilot stumbled and fell to her hands and knees as the woman with metal arms swung at Neve again.

Her fist connected with the kind of sound you usually only hear in a particularly bad nightmare and Neve went down, limbs sprawling, eyes open and fixed, blood spreading out under her head. The Gurista took one long stride after Siarente and grabbed her by the hair, hauling her to her feet. "My boss," she said, "says you have something that belongs - "

She swung Siarente around to face her and stopped, face blank with shock.

"Ani?" Siarente said.

"Sia?"

For a second they stared at each other, and then one of the other Guristas cleared his throat.

'Ani' let Siarente go and turned. She addressed her colleagues, "S'fine. I've got this, so stop pointing the fucking pieces near me." Her voice was slurred, with shock or something else. The four 'ristas that were still standing lowered their weapons, expressions of confusion on their faces.

The four shots came so fast the sound was like one long roar in the closed space of the corridor. I hadn't even seen the grey-armed woman's gun clear her holster. Two of the Guristas died looking confused.

She winged one and missed the last.

Ani cursed and tried to fire again as the uninjured gangster lifted his weapon. Her gun jammed.

She snarled and lunged close. He didn't get a shot off.

There was a blur of movement and a spray of blood.

The injured 'rista took off down the corridor while she was busy.

The running footsteps faded into the distance and left silence broken only by 'Ani's' harsh gasps.

"Ani?" Siarente said hesitantly again.

"Shit, Sia," Ani said. "Just - shit." She grabbed Siarente by the arm and began to drag her along the alley. "You have to get out of here, back-up'll be here any minute - shit, Sia, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Siarente tried to pull away, but the metal hand on her arm was unyielding. "Neve," she said. "Ani, Neve - "

"She's dead," I told her.

"Oh," Siarente said sadly. "Oh, poor Neve. That's the third time."

Ami peered out the head of the alley and then hauled Siarente with her into the corridor leading to the hangars. "It'll be poor you if you don't get a move on. What the fuck are you doing here and what the fuck did you think you were doing, taking Mavare for all that money?"

"Looking for you," Siarente panted as she struggled to keep up. "Rory said they'd send someone after anyone who won too big and when I saw you, I - "

We reached the pilot's hangar and I saw the rest of her security waiting there with a sense of relief. Ani pushed Siarente into the middle of them and let her go, the marks of her fingers standing out livid and red on the pilot's creamy skin. "You set yourself up to get a beating on the off-chance they'd send me? Sia, that is the stupidest fucking plan you've ever come up with, and that's saying something."

Siarente took a deep breath, eyes filling with tears. "I know," she admitted.

"You got Neve killed, for fuck's sake," Ani snarled, for all the world as if it hadn't been her fist that had shattered the bodyguard's skull.

"I couldn't think of anything else!"

"Spirits fuck," Ani said. "Looking for me. Fine, you found me. Now get on your ship and wait for a gap in local and make a fucking run for it, Sia."

"No, I - " Siarente reached for Ani's arm and the other woman shook her off. "Ani. Come back with me. It'll be all right, it - "

"It is alright. It fucking was alright before you got here. I'm fine, but you need to fucking go. Go back to high-sec before you get both of us killed."

"No, Ani, I'm not going - I won't leave you here. You're my sister - "

Envelan paused. "Sister," she said, and blinked, then went on in an even, deliberate tone. "Sia, that was just something I said to keep you from going off the rails back when we thought you'd make a good recruit for the Nation. I'm not your sister. We're not family. I don't want to see you again. Keep the fuck away."

She turned without waiting for a response and stalked off down the corridor, leaving Siarente staring after her, blue eyes brimming with tears and hurt.

My head was still swimming a little, but I managed to clear my throat, "We need to get inside, Captain."

She let me steer her into the hangar, staring over her shoulder at Ani's back until the closing doors sealed her from sight.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 6

2010-08-18T10:00:00.000-07:00

"I thought you told her," Sami voice murmured through my earpiece, "not to take these people's money."

"I did." And I thought she listened.

Apparently not.

"Three of the little horses," Sia said, "And two crowns. That means I win again, doesn't it?" She giggled delightedly as the stack of chips was pushed towards her. "Oh, I do like this game! I'm having so much fun! Aren't you?"

Knuckles had a good poker face. "You are very lucky tonight," he said with a smile.

It was an unmistakable threat, but it seemed to go straight over Sia's head. "Maybe you'll be lucky next time, M'ser," she said sweetly, beginning to gather up her winnings.

"I'm sure I will be," he said.

Even a naive Intaki from a high-sec backwater couldn't miss that threat, and I saw Siarente's throat move as she swallowed convulsively. Walk away, I willed her, leave the money on the table, get up and walk away.

Instead she tossed a handful of chips into the center of the table. "Maybe this is your lucky hand, M'ser."

It wasn't.

As it turned out, it wasn't mine, either.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 5

2010-08-17T14:00:00.000-07:00

No caper ever goes according to plan, even in the holos, and this was no holo.

The back room was set out in the same style as the front, only more so. More surprised-looking dead things on the walls, more tidy attendants in black suits and white gloves, more heavy paneling and ornate holos of improbably handsome people doing improbably heroic things.

In the middle of the room was the table, a monsterous, heavy thing. A fortune in wood. The Colonel probably looted it from some Guardian Angel casino in Outer Ring. It fit the men and women sitting around it in equally heavy chairs with gilt-edged arm-rests and slippery velvet cushions.

Our friend, Mavare was there, of course. A woman in a severe business suit was at the place next to him, I recognized her as a banker that helped clean money that had got a little dirty in its trip through the station's underworld. Maybe it was handling all that cash she couldn't keep that had given her the sour expression she wore, like a librarian forced to check out dirty holos when she knew she'd be spending the night alone with her furrier.

Next to the banker was Molotte Voirot, one of the most successful smugglers on the station, even if, or perhaps because, he had the fresh-faced looks of a teenage cadet. Next to him was a Civire with scars criss-crossing the backs of his hands and a very expensive suit, a high ranking Gurista, Ojavas 'Knuckles' Inheras. The last player was a Minmatar woman I didn't recognize, but I smelled an Angel.

If any of them noticed that Siarente was a podder, they didn't show it.

The Colonel was serious about preventing cheating. Apart from the players, only his staff were allowed to approach the table, and there were a couple of dedicated autoturrets ready to make confetti of anyone else who tried to break the rule. The players had all handed over their jewelery and any other personal effects that might be used to mark cards or give them some other unfair advantage, and the faint shimmer of a distortion field made sure no bystander could catch a peek of someone's hand and give another player a high sign. Electronic jamming was in place at the table to defeat any communication to or from the players, and leaving the table except at designated breaks or when you were bust was an automatic forfeit of your entire stake - and any future invitations.

The Colonel explained all of that to Siarente, who thanked him, and slipped into her chair with a giggle and gave a little excited bounce, for all the world like a little girl thrilled to death to be allowed to stay up past her bedtime and socialize with the grownups. She ordered a glass of champagne from the white-gloved waiter, complimented the banker on her hair and winked at Voirot. Her aura of just-waiting-to-be-fleeced had the other players welcoming her.

I'm sure the dress didn't hurt, either.

I was optimistic. Mavare was probably the lightweight at the table, but a million syns should take a while to burn through. Sami was confident she could beat the jamming, and all Sia had to do was keep playing until Ydet was done.

Yeah, I really was that stupid.

The Colonel announced the start of the game, and the first set of hands shot out across the table from the dealer - a real, human one.

The first thing that went wrong was the jamming. Sami's confidence that she could defeat the baffling and get a signal through to Siarente's neocom was justified: right up until the jamming signal cycled through to the next random frequency.

And it was too late to try and back out.

I guessed Sia knew the silence over the internal neocom she hadn't wanted to get in the first place wasn't intentional. She studied her cards with pursed lips and then fiddled with the dress strap, fragile as a Breacher's hull, over her left shoulder - the sign we'd agreed on if something went wrong short of an emergency.

But Auvy knew her cards and Sia was a quick study. She bet a little, lost it trying to draw to fill a hand of three acorns, won on the next with a pair of sixes when the rest of the table had hands full of even more trash, and then twisted a curl around her finger and laid down a flat flush.

Ydet sighed, rolled her eyes, fidgeted, and finally excused herself. Right on schedule. I checked my watch. Forty minutes, she'd said. In and out.

That's when the second thing went wrong. Mavare started losing. I'm no cardsharp, and I couldn't see the cards clearly through that distortion field, but even I could tell he was a terrible player. Not only that, he tried to make up for it by throwing on money. Never play loose in a tight game, Auvy had warned Sia, but that was clearly a maxim Mavare had never heard. I did some quick calculations, and figured we'd be ok, if not by a wide margin, though.

Then the third thing went wrong.

"Rory," Ydet hissed over my earpiece. "I've got a guard and a waiter going at it in the storage room. Right under my exit. I'm gonna have to wait it out. I'll need more time.

Sami was still fighting with the electronic jamming but she was able to get through to Sia for a few seconds here and there. She got word to the pilot about the need for delay.

Sia fiddled with that strap a bit more emphatically than before, putting the whole miracle of engineering at risk, and then eyed the cards face up on the table, twirled that curl around her forefinger and bet high on a five and seven of acorns. Her fake tell had the other players folding fast, but luckily Mavare wasn't so smart, and when Sia's hole cards turned out not to be the missing cards of a straight he raked in enough chips to stay in the game.

There was a break at the hour and a half mark. Sia and Sami's best efforts hadn't been able to keep more than a handful of chips in front of Mavare, so as I escorted Sia towards the bar for the break, I hoped we had bought Ydet enough time.

There she was, waiting in the lounge area when we walked out. She gave the slightest nod when she saw us.

I leaned closer to Ross, "Time to go, Captain."

Ydet joined us as we made our way across the room toward the exit. Then Siarente stumbled. I thought she'd turned an ankle in those fashionable heels, but as I reached out to steady her she bolted, heading across the room at a brisk clip, toward a knot of people around the Civire with the scarred knuckles. Her attention was fixed on a woman with grey, metallic prosthetics in place of both arms. The woman was talking to one of the Gurista's lackeys, making a report it looked like to me. She finished, whatever it was, and was gone again before Siarente got close. The Captain stopped, and the rest of us caught up to her.

"Who is that?"

I looked where Sia was pointing, probably under the illusion she was being discreet. "Him? that's Ojavas Inheras. A ... " I hesitated. Even in a dress that qualified as a fire-hazard for its ability to cause spontaneous combustion in innocent bystanders, there was something about Siarente Ross that made a man feel reluctant to use words like 'gangster' ... or 'murderer', for that matter. "A local businessman," I temporized.

"He's a regular here," Sami supplied. "Likes to win, and wins a lot - maybe because people know what happens to those who get too lucky at his expense."

"Really," Sia said thoughtfully. She turned to look up at me with a smile. "Could you give me a just a second here, Rory? I'll be right back."

That was the fourth thing that went wrong.

Before I could say a word she'd taken off, her heels tapping lightly on the parquet floor as she headed back to the poker table.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 4

2010-08-17T10:00:00.000-07:00

Inside, a bar occupied one wall, floor-to-ceiling shelves of bottles every color you could imagine and a few you wouldn't want to, from innocent-looking pastel lolly-water to deep blue syrup that promised to make you forget your troubles - and your door-key, your address and your name. Behind the long expanse of gleaming stone, two bartenders in matching uniforms and matching faces dispensed poisons-of-choice to the clientèle.

The floor was made up of little bits of what might even be genuine wood fitted together to make a pattern out of their different colors, and as I followed Sia and Ydet toward the bar a momentary ebbing of the crowd showed me the pattern was another version of the deformed bird Mordu's used as their logo.The pattern almost filled the room, except for a space about two meters by three alond the left wall where the wood gave way to a solid stone around the big fireplace.

I could tell from how close people were standing to it that the fire blazing away wasn't a real one, but the illusion was pretty good. The fire was framed by a dark wood mantle and along the top of the mantel were three large guns, antiques from the look. Directly above each of those guns was the head of an animal, different kinds of animal but all with the same look of slight surprise, as if they hadn't expected to be shot by the Colonel and they certainly hadn't expected to spend their afterlife watching rich people get drunk and lose money for fun.

At the other end of the room, directly in the line of sight of the decapitated and preserved wild-life, a half-a-dozen tables with green baize covers just like the holos were surrounded by little clusters of customers. Their expressions ranged from exhilaration to despair as the roulette wheel spun and the dice fell. For most of the residents of the station, drinking the water that came out of the tap was enough of a gamble for any one day, but I guess the rich had to get their thrills elsewhere. The Colonels' gaming tables were as good as any.

The flickering firelight gave the same febrile glitter to the eyes of the dead animals and the live gamblers alike.

Siarente and Ydet headed straight to the bar, a couple of thirsty rich girls on a night out, Neve and I trailing behind. Sia ordered a glass of champagne and then gave an excited squeal as she 'spotted' the roulette wheel. Glass in hand, she headed towards the gaming tables with all the uncertainty and delay of a piranha missile. Ydet followed with an amused smile but a distinct lack of enthusiasm, a lack of enthusiasm she made more obvious as Sia bounced from roulette to vingt-et-un to craps.

So far, so good.

Ydet examined her nails as Sia swept a pile of chips together and looked around. "Where is the poker game?" she asked guilelessly. "I heard there was poker here!"

As we'd hoped, one of the other patrons was all too eager to enlighten her, pointing out the door to the back room. Sia thanked him with a happy giggle and made her way towards it, the high heels of her strappy red sandals tip-tapping on the parquet floor.

She was stopped, of course, by the guards discreetly posted there. Stopped politely, but even so Neve tensed beside me.

Siarente smiled and twirled a lock of hair around her fingers and fluttered her eyelashes and professed herself most terribly keen on poker and just heartbroken that they wouldn't let her in to the game and before long Colonel Kurata himself emerged from his office.

He didn't stand a chance, by the time Siarente had told him that her little sister was just dying to join Mordu's Legion when she grew up and did he have any advice, and by the way, did he know Jude Kopenhagen?

The Colonel harrumped and patted her on the shoulder and warned her that this was no game for amateurs, but she could play a few hands if she wanted, and just tell him if she wanted to leave early.

Maybe he had a daughter, or a granddaughter, that she reminded him of.

Then again, maybe it was the dress.

Siarente thanked him charmingly, sipped her champagne, linked her arm through his and headed over the threshold with Ydet, Neve, me, and the hapless Colonel in tow.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 3

2010-08-16T14:00:00.000-07:00

A game like this one could only be held on neutral ground. Holding it in any of the clubs or casinos associated with one or another of the pirate factions or criminal organisations on the station would have been an invitation for cheating, stealing, and a spot of murder: and not a 'call round if you're in the neighborhood' invitation but the kind of invitation that came in a full-color holo of dancing girls and maybe some exotic animals as well.

And neutral ground was in short supply around here. This is Syndicate: everybody owes somebody. Some people owe everybody.

But there was one man on the station who had no debts and owed no favors. Colonel Nesen Kurata, highest ranking officer in Mordu's Legion for a coupla systems in any direction, had come through a long career without giving anyone anything to hold over him and without losing his reputation as an honest man. He was sometimes asked to arbitrate conflicts between factions on the station, and his HQ - The HQ, it's called - is considered neutral ground. In fact, it's enforced neutral ground. He might seem like a rather charming, harmless, antique warhorse, but noone wants to piss off someone who could call in a battalion of MTACs.

He was getting on these days, and most of the business of the Legion was run by his second-in-command, but everybody including his superiors knew that the chances of the old man retiring were right up there with Heth and Roden sharing a sloppy kiss on a cluster-wide live broadcast.

The HQ was the headquarters of the Legion on the Station. The only sign is the Legion logo - you know the one, some kind of bird with a birth defect - etched on the crystal of the recessed double doors. It's not where you'd go if you wanted to hire them, that's a store front in one of the swankier business districts (buy a war, get a minor conflict free!) This was where the commander for the Legion spent his time though, so this was the HQ.

Colonel Kurata liked to think of himself as a gentleman, and from what I'd heard he was. Anyway, he ran his club like the gentleman he thought he was. It was a nice place for the right kind of people to meet and mingle and talk politely, and maybe lose a little money at roulette while they were doing it. The Colonel hobnobbed with bosses, charmed society ladies, drank with the influential in politics and business, and swapped lies about how good things had been with other veterans.

And it was a nice place for a high-stakes poker game, too.

There was that battalion of MTACs, after all.

Another good reason not to get caught.

Getting inside the main part of the club wasn't going to be a problem: the doors of the Colonel's club would open for Siarente, or for her bank-balance and podder implants, at least.

Getting the invitation from the Colonel to the game was a different question.

"Are you ready for this?" I asked Siarente.

She nodded, face pale, and then swallowed hard. "'sec," she said, and hastily snapped open the beaded purse she was carrying, pulling out a small packet of dry crackers.

I watched as she crammed a couple in her mouth and chewed. "Look, if you're having second thoughts ... better to say something now. Once we're inside there won't be room for mistakes."

Siarente swallowed. "I know. I'm fine. It's just ... brain surgery doesn't agree with me."

That had been the point where Sami's plan had nearly come unstuck. She hadn't been able to believe any pod pilot wouldn't have an internal neocom, and at first Siarente had been adamant in her refusal to have one put in. I like picking up my neocom like a normal person, she'd said in a sweetly reasonable tone. And I don't like people poking around in my head.

But the whole plan depended on Siarente keeping Mavare at the poker table until Ydet had time to steal Tialya's ring from the cloakroom and leave the carefully made replica in its place. Mavare wouldn't know that the family heirloom was also a family hairloom with a lock of someone's great-great-grandmother's coiffure sealed beneath the gem for verification. He'd be happy with the high-quality fake Auvy's contact had made, and never know the real thing was back on Tialya's hand - if Mavare didn't loose all his money in the first three hands and go to collect his belongings while Ydet was still wriggling through the airducts.

And Siarente might have been a quick study and Auvy a good teacher, but even when you're planning on losing card-sharping takes a lifetime to master and this table was not a place to make mistakes.

Sami was sure she could hack through the jamming and use the venue's security drones to watch the play. But it wouldn't do us any good if she couldn't get that information to Siarente, and sitting at the table with a comm handset held to one ear wasn't exactly the best way to avoid suspicion.

The pilot had hemmed and hawwed and asked Sami to come up with a different plan, and when Sami hadn't, Siarente had taken herself off to find someone else to look for her sister.

I might have panicked if there'd been anyone else on the station dirt-dumb enough to take the job. Fortune just isn't that fond of me, most days.

Siarente had come back within the day. Another twenty-four hours of lessons from Auvy while we waited for the replica ring to be made and the pilot's own medical team had arrived by Interbus to put in the neocom. Once they arrived, it was over so quick I couldn't work out what all the fuss had been about. The lead surgeon seemed to know her business, her manner as sharp as her scalpel. When they were done, I couldn't even tell where they'd done the work.

So there we were: me in my best suit, the podder's bodyguard with her best deadly expression, Ydet in a deep purple skin-tight that was both fashionable and perfect for eeling through narrow crawlspaces, and Siarente in a scarlet dress Auvy had had to stitch her into. I didn't need to know much about couture to be able to tell that the only thing keeping it up was some sort of technological miracle and from the heads turning as we headed down the boulevard towards Legion HQ, I wasn't the only one wondering how long that miracle would last.

Too many more of those crackers, I thought, and not much longer.

"Are you sure you're all right?" I asked Siarente again.

She dropped the packet back in her purse and snapped it closed. "Yes," she said.

"Now remember," I told her, "You just have to keep him busy at the table, you don't have to win. In fact, do your best not to. These people, they don't like people getting lucky at their expense."

Siarente nodded. "You told me," she said, and tucked her hand in the crook of Ydet's elbow. "Don't let me fall over in these heels,dear."

"Never, darling," Ydet said with a wink.

The bodyguard and I following, they sauntered arm and arm into the club.

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 2

2010-08-16T10:00:00.000-07:00

When it comes to poker, my skills just about extend to knowing how much money I'm about to lose in the five seconds before I lose it. If Captain Siarente Ross was going to give a convincing impression of a high-roller in the highest-stakes game on the station, she was going to need help from someone besides me.

And that was just for starters. Getting into the game, not getting rumbled in the first hand, those were the easiest parts of the whole scheme.

I needed experts.

Ydet is a professional thief. A specialist. She could probably steal the ears off the Rabbit, but the poker game only had one way in: the front door.

Auvy is an expert in lots of things, though I think sometimes mainly in making me scramble. I happened to know she was a damn good poker player too.

I can't say the thought of introducing Auvy to my new client didn't cause me a twinge of anxiety. As for adding Ydet to the mix ... well, I guess sometimes I'm just a glutton for punishment.

I had a stiff drink and made the calls.

My office was crowded with Auvy, Ydet, Siarente and her bodyguard all in there, and not just cause it was a storage closet before I rented it. Four women, all of them blonde - even Auvy, this week - all of them as different as could be.

Ydet, with her wide smile and her honey-colored hair pulled back in a ponytail was the kind of blonde you played stick-ball with on the rec-deck, in your dreams anyway.

The bodyguard - Neve, her name was - was the sort of dirty white-blonde that looked like ice in the 'cycler: she was cold and hard and she'd been around.

Siarente Ross was what I always thought of as a default blonde - with her soft blue eyes and her gentle voice, she would have been blonde even if her hair color had been black as the space between the stars.

And Auvy, well ... today Auvy had her hair a shade of gold so rich it made Siarente's earrings look cheap and fake and a jacket in a lustrous red with a shimmer of the same tone. She looked like a million syns and maybe a million sins, too.

I had the schematics for the place the game was held spread out on my desk, courtesy of Sami, but I was the only one looking at them. Ydet and Auvy were giving each other the kind of polite smiles that make a wise man come up with a reason to be elsewhere, the pilot's bodyguard was studying each of them with flat-eyed professionalism and Siarente was looking from one to the other and then at me with knowing expression that made me even more nervous than Auvy and Ydet did.

I cleared my throat. "So. Getting into the HQ is easy enough, but to get into the Table we'll need the Colonel's invitation. They take their security seriously inside - weapons checked at the door, scans to make sure, auto-turrets to take care of anyone who tries to start any trouble; no surprise given the mix they get."

Auvy spoke up, "So, how are we going to get an invitation?"

"Well." I picked up my glass and realized it was empty. "That part I haven't exactly worked out yet. We can go down there and do some recon though. See if there's a way. We'll have to get one somehow, though, unless you wanna try and mug Mavare in the corridor on his way there."

Ydet stretched out her shapely legs and then curled up in her chair like a cat - or the cat-burglar she was. "Remind me again why it's such a good idea to pick the most tightly-guarded social gathering in Syndicate for this little heist?"

"Security might be tight at the game but it's tighter where Mavare spends the rest of his time," I said.

Ydet snorted. "Your lack of faith hurts my feelings, Rory."

"I'm not a religious man. And I'm sure you could get in - "

"Oh, I'm sure Ydet has no problems getting into gangster's bedrooms," Auvy said.

"And no problem getting out again," Ydet said, and smiled. "Unlike some."

Auvy drew breath to reply but before she got a word out Siarente leaned forward. "Is that jacket a Ceverette?" she asked Auvy. "It looks like his new line but I don't think I saw anything that nice at the show."

All I know about clothes is that it's a good idea to tell Auvy how good she's looking in whatever she's wearing, which isn't hard to remember since she always looks good, but the name Ceverette seemed to work as some kind of code. Auvy half-boasted, half-admitted that the jacket was her own design and not the work of a Federation fashion house and Siarente widened her eyes in what seemed to be genuine admiration and asked a half-dozen questions about seams and facing that had me mystified.

Ydet shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes and leaned forward to study the plan. "So why aren't we hitting this guy's crib?"

"Because the only time Mavare takes off his little love-token is when he has to," Sami piped up from my NEOCOM. Right at that moment, she sounded blonde, too: the kind of blonde who'll promise a man the world and leave him flat broke in the gutter - and grateful for it. "Believe me, the hours I've spent wandering around in his surveillance system. The things I'm seen. Sometimes deleting just isn't enough. Anyway, the thing about poker games with high stakes ... they tend to be pretty strict about cheating. Especially the Colonel's Table. High quality comms jamming, for example, although nothing that'd cause me trouble. And they don't like giving people the chance to mark the cards. You know, like ... with a ring."

Ydet nodded. "So we go in as what, the girl's staff?"

"Me and the bodyguard will be flunkies," I said. "But you'll need the chance to slip away and break into the cloakroom. You'll be the bored girlfriend."

Ydet glanced back at Siarente. "Girlfriend, sure. Bored?" She gave me a wink. "That might take more acting."

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Part 1

2010-08-15T11:00:00.000-07:00

Her name was Siarente Ross and the story she told me was a simple one, the kind of simple you get when you skip, eyes closed, straight past all the awkward, embarrassing, unpleasant details. The sister, who'd been 'experiencing some personal difficulties', was overdue back from a business trip to meet 'associates in the area'. The podder was concerned enough to be out here looking. Even with podder resources, she'd realized quick enough that she needed a native guide, and the ad that Sami'd tricked the station channel into running had brought Mademoiselle Ross straight to my door.

If I'd had any intention of taking the case I would have asked some of the obvious questions. Questions like 'Are these 'associates' Serps or Guristas?' for example. Or 'Personal difficulties with gambling, booze or boosters?'

But I wasn't going to take the case - I'd had enough podder trouble to last a lifetime.

I should have said that straight out, but the girl's lower lip started quivering as soon as I shook my head and I tried to soften it a little.

I should have remembered that the ones who don't look like trouble at first glance are sometimes the ones that end you up in the airlock with the wrong door open the fastest. More fool me.

"I'm all tied up with another case right now, Miss," I said. "If it weren't for that, I'd help you, but - " I spread my hands. "Sorry. You know how it is."

"Is this other case going to take you long?" she asked. "Because ..."

"Could take weeks," I said, and I wasn't lying this time, except for where I didn't tell her I'd been about to throw the case in. "It's pretty complicated."

"What sort of case?"

"Recovering stolen property. A ring."

"And it's complicated?"

A big part of my business is discretion, and I'm good at keeping my mouth shut - even when it's a pretty girl asking. Those blue eyes, though, or maybe it was the gentle lilt of her accent and the soft curve of her lips ... she was made to draw out a man's troubles just as surely as a tractor beam draws wrecks. A few details won't hurt, I thought, Fortune help me.

"The guy who's got it is a Serp lieutenant, Voilies Mavare. Few steps below the top of the ladder, but still out of my league. Bases out of a club, The Nest, and security is air-tight."

Siarente blinked thoughtfully. "Maybe you could just buy it back from him," she said.

I shook my head. "My client's bankroll doesn't run to the kind of sums that would tempt Mavare. And mine sure doesn't. Besides, she wants it kept quiet - and throwing that kind of money around would make plenty of noise. Even if he were selling."

"Steal it?" she suggested, with a matter-of-factness at odds with her innocent expression.

"Thought about it," I admitted. "But getting anywhere near him is the problem. Sami says he never leaves his place, The Nest - well, almost never."

"Sami?" she asked.

"My ... assistant."

A faint, delicate raspberry came from my neocom at that. The podder didn't notice, but her bodyguard flicked a glance at the handset and then looked back at me, eyes as grey and hard as the skin of the station, and twice as cold.

"Associate. My very talented, brilliant associate," I corrected hastily, before Sami could make her feelings known any more clearly. "Anyway. The only time Mavare every goes anywhere is to a monthly high-stakes poker game, the Colonel's Table."

"And why can't you steal it there?"

"Security's almost as tight there," I explained. "Only players and their flunkies get in."

She looked puzzled. "Can't you just go and play, then?"

"This is a real high-stakes game," I said. "The buy-in is a million syns."

"That's about 10,000 isk?" The look of bemusement lingered a moment longer before comprehension dawned. "Oh," she said. "That's a lot of money, isn't it." She looked at me for a moment, chewing thoughtfully on that full lower lip, and then went on: "More money than I'm going to just hand over, that's for sure. So I'll tell you what. I'll buy in to the poker game. You can come along as my ... boyfriend? Bodyguard? You can steal this silly ring back and then you'll be free to help me find my sister."

It took me a couple of seconds to grasp that she'd just tossed away 10,000 ISK - more than a million syns - without blinking. Then I realized she'd just solved my most pressing problem and trapped me into working for her in the same breath.

"Do you know how to play poker?" I managed to ask.

She smiled serenely. "I think I had a lesson once," she said. "It didn't seem too hard."

Syndicate Files: The Sister - Prologue

2010-08-14T11:00:00.000-07:00

((Co-Authored with Ciarente))

The trouble started with the girl.

That's not where the whole thing started, of course. The whole thing started with Tialya Kikkettan's ring.

Tialya Kikkettan was like just about everyone who ended up in my office: she had just enough trouble on her plate to want to pay someone to make it go away, just enough money in her bank account to afford my rates, and just enough to hide to want to keep the whole thing off any official radar.

Her husband gave her the ring, a family heirloom, Tialya said, sitting in my office clutching her bag so hard the swollen joints of her skinny fingers were white with the force of her grip. I wasn't sure which she was worried might try and scuttle away into the corner and do something unmentionable: the bag or her hands.

The ring had been stolen, probably by the maid she'd fired last week. She wanted it back, and she didn't want the police involved.

The way her gaze slid away from mine when she mentioned the police made me think that 'stolen' might not be the right word, but it's not my place to judge, especially when there's 500 syns a day plus expenses at stake. She wasn't the first woman to give a trinket to a lover, and she wasn't the first woman to regret the gift after the relationship went sour.

Trace and retrieve, that was the job. How hard could it be? I thought.

Then it turned out that Tialya's former 'maid' was keeping new and dangerous company. The ring that Tialya's husband thought had been sent away for cleaning was on the hand of a mid-level Serpentis boss. Trace, well, I'd done that. Retrieve? Getting anywhere near him was next to impossible.

So I was having a cup of coffee and glumly contemplating how I was going to return Tialya Kikkettan's advance, since I'd already given most of it to my landlord, when the door to my office opened and trouble walked in on two-inch heels.

At first glance, she didn't look like trouble: soft blue eyes, a pretty face too young to have lines to show if that polite smile was her usual expression or if she'd worn it just for me, and a well-tailored dress doing its best to play down curves that could stop traffic. But the pretty face and the softly curling blonde hair and the demure dress all had that faint gloss of wealth, like they started their day being polished with 500 Syn notes. And if that hadn't warned me, then there was the bodyguard who came in with her sporting a look that said 'I can kill you with my pinky', the two big, square-jawed types who blotted out my doorway looking just as mean, and when soft blue eyes sat down in the chair across from me I caught a flash of jewels and metal on the back of her neck, almost hidden in that gently curling blonde hair.

Podder.

That was enough to tell me she was trouble, however she looked. Besides, trouble is why people come to me. They're in it, they want to cause it, they want to head it off at the pass, or -

"It's my sister," the podder said, in the soft Gallente accent of the high-sec Fed-bred. "She's in - "

"Trouble?"

Her blue eyes widened. "How did you know?"

Concussion

2010-07-18T21:51:00.000-07:00

((Co-Authored with Ciarente))

"Commander Invelen. Commander Invelen, sitrep, please."

The voice faded in and out, or maybe that was her.

Amieta tried to wipe the blood from her eyes but the servos in her arm just keened and squealed uselessly. Shit. She blinked, blinked again, and her vision cleared enough to show a shattered flight console, tilted at a strange angle. All the angles she could see looked wrong. Twisted. Jarred.

I'm in a shuttle. The shuttle's broken. I'm hurt.

I guess we crashed.

We?

She could still hear the voice that had woken her through her earpiece. Male. Ishukone accent. "Commander Invelen. Commander Invelen, sitrep, please."

Invelen. That's me, right? Commander - guess I'm in charge.

She turned her head painfully to look around the rest of the cockpit. Most of the pilot was slumped over the controls. Another body against the wall, eyes open and blank.

Guess I fucked up, too.

Or somebody did.

A wave of dizziness, then, black dots dancing before her eyes. The voice was still talking. "Commander Invelen. Commander Invelen. Amieta."

Then it went dark.

"Amieta," Val said.

She glanced over. Like her Val was... eight? Nine? It didn't matter, he was always so serious. "Tell Supervisor we all had the idea. It wasn't just Jan."

Jan

The stocky boy was standing just past Val, with that stubborn expression he got sometimes. Of course it had been his idea. Jan had found them a place, a new place to explore.... somewhere. Somewhere they weren't supposed to go, and the three of them had been caught.

Amieta opened her mouth to explain, of course they had all thought of it, it hadn't been Jan's idea. Val interrupted her though, "Amieta."

She winced and blinked, something in her eyes.

"Amieta, please respond," Val said. No, not Val. Val was the past. She groped for the name that went with the voice she could hear and found it. Captain Night. The shuttle. The crash.

"Captain." A dry whisper. She put more effort into it, "Captain Night. I'm here."

"Do you remember what happened?"

I think... the shuttle crashed?"

"Can you tell me what year it is?"

It took Amieta a moment to remember, "106. It's 106."

"Situation? Injuries?"

"I'm ..." Amieta tilted her head, fighting a wave of nausea, trying to see what was keeping her from sitting up, "Left arm and left leg are pinned. Some kind of structural support. The pilot and copilot are dead. My leg - I'm bleeding. A lot. I think I hit my head too. Feel sick."

Captain Night's voice was calm. "Can you reach the first aid kit?"

She tried, couldn't suppress a groan at the movement, her right arm moving in jerks and starts as it recovered function.

She tried again, felt the prosthetic respond, and got a fingertip on the strap. "Yes. Hold on."

The mini-AIMED that came with the kit was no substitute for the real deal, but the info it could give was bad enough.

"Commander?"

"Gonna need evac pretty soon, sir," she said, fumbling one-handed with the kit. "Trying to get a tourniquet on ... I'm not in real good shape, here."

"The storm that brought your shuttle down is peaking," Captain Night said. "We'll have a medivac team down there as soon as they can get through the front."

Amieta grunted acknowledgement, tightening the bandage as hard as she could. The blood seeping from her thigh slowed.

"The storm, I remember. I came up to the cockpit to ask... to ask about the storm. Our flight status." Came up to the cockpit from the passenger compartment where the rest of the team ...

Amieta held still, held her breath, listened. Silence. "Sir, the others, Sarakai ... "

She tried to turn enough to see through the cockpit door and lost his next words to a stab of pain. Spirits fuck my ancestors.

"Commander? Amieta?"

"Fine," she gasped. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Are you sure?

She stood in front of his desk, shoulders square, hands clasped behind her back and eyes fixed on the wall above his head, absolutely regulation. "Yes, sir, I'm sure."

"Ms Voutelen's employment history is a little ... irregular," Captain Night said, browsing through the red-flag-riddled file in front of him before looking back up at her.

"So is mine, sir," Amieta pointed out.

"Not for the same reasons."

"No sir. But Sara is loyal, she's experienced, and she's damn good at what she does. Those are all things you need in a CTO, especially when your XO is still learning her job."

He studied her for a moment, as hard to read as always, and then held out the file. "Very well. I'll trust your judgment on this, Amieta."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," she said, not following his lead into informality. Hecould risk forming bad habits. For Amieta, there was more at stake. There's already scuttlebutt that I got this job for being the 'Captain's woman.' One careless word in public from her and the rumor-mill would explode.

She took the file. "Permission to call Ms Voutelen, sir?"

Captain Night nodded. "Of course. You're dismissed, Commander."

Amieta saluted, turned precisely on her heel, and left. In the privacy of her own office she made the call, getting Sarakai's recorded message. "Good news, Sara. Sara? Sara, you there?"

It hurt to raise her voice. "Sara? Sara, you there?" There was rain coming through the rent in the fuselage, cold droplets splashing off the open eyes of the co-pilot. "Sara!"

Silence.

"Sir, Sara, she's not answering. Sir?"

Silence over the comm line, too.

"Sir? Captain? Captain?"

Nothing. She was the only one left alive, the only one of all her people and there was no-one -

No. That wasn't here. That wasn't now. That was -

She slammed the door on the past and tried again. "Captain?"

This time Captain Night answered and Amieta closed her eyes against a wave of relief. "Captain, Sara, Colonel Voutelen - "

"Is uninjured," Captain Night said quickly. "The cockpit and the crew compartment separated on impact. Most of the fuselage is a few dozen meters above you."

"Is everyone - ?"

"Some serious injuries, but nothing immediately life threatening. The cockpit took most of the impact, broke off and ended up in a ravine."

"Thank the ancestors," Amieta whispered. "I thought - "

"The rest of the team are in no danger," Captain Night said, almost as if he knew what she'd been about to say.

Of course he knows.

She'd told him. She'd been drunk, spirits, he'd been drunk that first night, the one and only time she'd seen it.

The day of her brother's funeral, not that she could tell anyone at the service that it was her brother, standing there in long sleeves and silk gloves, behind the thin protection of forged papers. An old girlfriend, she told anyone who asked. Salt on the wound, not even being able to claim him, the brother she'd waited just too long to visit, and her now a stranger on the Ishukone Station she'd grown up on.

Maybe that was why she'd looked twice and then a third time at the tall man with pilot implants on his neck marking him out as just as much a stranger on the station as she. Up close, he had the bland, interchangeable good looks of a tubey, and he met her gaze with only a hint of surprise.

"I'm Amieta," she said, holding out her hand.

He shook it, and if he felt the steel beneath the silk there was no sign of it in his expression. "Pleased to meet you," he said courteously. "I'm Captain Silver Night."

I'm right, I'm wrong, Amieta thought, and then: He's still holding my hand.

I'm right.

"Do you want to get out of here?" she said. "Maybe get a drink?"

Captain Night released her hand, gaze still steady on her face. "I would like that, yes," he said.

And that'd been that.

Funny the things your life turns on.

That decision to go to a funeral ...

She looked down at the blood still seeping from her leg. Might just lead to mine.

If the Ancestors have a sense of humor, they must be having a good laugh at this one.

Not that she had any ancestors, in the way most people meant them.Tube-bred, guess maybe there's a petrie dish somewhere that might count.

And Jan, of course.

Jan ...

She could feel herself greying out again and fought against it. Focus. Don't let go. "Captain?"

"I'm here." There was a subtle difference on the comm line, a low hum behind his voice. Engines. Spirits, he's on the rescue shuttle.

Probably flying it. Damn unprofessional. What happens if the Captain crashes trying to retrieve the XO?

The thought turned her cold, or maybe it was the rain chilling her. At least it's water. So thirsty. Somewhere at the back of her mind was the vague awareness that she shouldn't be so thirsty. Bad sign. Of something.

She licked raindrops from her lips and fought another surge of dizziness. Fight. Focus. Here and now, Ami.

"Do you remember ... my brother? Jan?" she said, the first words to come to mind. Talk. Keep talking. Stay awake. She couldn't remember what she'd told Captain Night, or what was there in the public files for anyone to read, or which bits of the complicated truth were common knowledge and which not. She played it safe. "Did I tell you? About him? About Jan?"

"You did, yes," Captain Night said. "We are on approach. Help will be there very soon."

"I think ... it better be," Amieta said.

"A little longer, Amieta. That's all."

"Has the storm stopped?" She couldn't hear anything over the roaring in her ears, even Captain Night's voice was soft and faint.

She couldn't be sure, given how far away he sounded, if the tiny hesitation was real or just her imagination. "Enough for a competent pilot to land."

"'kay. 'cause I ... I might be seeing my ancestors soon, otherwise. Or Jan. He's not really an ancestor, I guess. A brother."

"I am sure he watches over you, nonetheless."

"You really believe all that stuff, don't you?" Amieta asked.

"I am quite certain," Captain Night said, "your brother sees and protects you."

Amieta blinked hard until she could focus her eyes enough to check the bandage on her leg. Still bleeding. She didn't need the AIMED in the shuttle's first aid kit to tell her she was losing too much blood. Hang on a little longer. It was so cold, though. A little longer. Val had promised the rescue team would be there soon. No, not Val. Captain Night. Val was a name from her past, not from the here and now. She couldn't afford to loose track of the here and now. Shock. It's shock. Stay focused, come on. Fight the shock. Stay here.

"Stay here, stay with me, Invelen, fight the shock, come on now ..."

What the - how did - why - ?

There'd been light and noise and then nothing, nothing until the medic's low, urgent voice. Amieta tried to ask What happened? but suddenly her mouth was full of blood and the medic was swearing and she was -

Floating in a comfortable haze of bright light, surrounded by machines that whirred quietly. Nothing hurt. That would have been worrying, if she'd been able to worry, but the fuzzy blur that enveloped her didn't let anxiety through.

Drugs. Hospital.

I got hurt? When the shuttle crashed I - no - there was an explosion - but the shuttle ...?

"Hey, Ami, don't know if you can hear me in there." A familiar voice. A familiar face: Jan. Jan, I thought I'd never see you again. "The doctors say you'll be out of here in no time."

Jan. You shouldn't be here. This isn't -

"Out of here in no time, Commander." The lights were blindingly bright, the figures behind them a blur of darkness.

"Jan?"

"I didn't know I'd be seeing you so soon," Jan said.

The light was so bright Amieta could hardly make out his face. They were lifting her up, now, up into the light, to where her brother waited and she had a moment's piercing regret to be going, until that faded out into the light as well and she was -

"She's coming around."

It hurt, again, a lot. Amieta opened her eyes and looked up at the medics bending over her.

"Welcome back, Commander," one of them said. "Gave us a scare, there."

Beyond them she could see the roof of a shuttle. She turned her head a little. Jan was ... right there?Beyond the medics she could see a couple of marines, equipped for rescue rather than combat, and beyond them, standing in the cockpit doorway, Captain Night, with his habitual, hard-to-read expression of polite, if slightly distant, interest. Amieta thought his gaze was a little sharper than usual, though, and when their eyes met she was almost certain the corner of his mouth twitched up in what might, in anyone else, have been a smile.

"You'll feel a sharp pinch, Commander" the medic said, and Amieta did, and was out.

When she woke again, the medics were carrying her from the rescue shuttle. Jan was gone. So was Captain Night - no, there he was, at the bottom of the ramp. As she was carried past him, Amieta reached out and grabbed his hand, "I saw Jan. He was there, with me. Down there. I saw him."

Smooth, uncalloused clone fingers closed around her battered metal ones. "I believe you."

"Captain, we need to be moving," one of the medics said.

His hand tightened briefly on hers, before he released it with a nod to the medics, and stepped back.

Amieta saw the looks that passed between the medics. Gossip incoming.

Fuck it, she thought.

Some days you're entitled not to give a damn what people think.

Syndicate Files: The Relic - Part 4

2010-06-20T12:00:00.000-07:00

I double checked the privacy screen around the booth. "You can talk?"

"Yeah. Nearly all I can do, in here." Now I looked closer, there was a crappy speaker, the kind you might see on a really obnoxious ad-wall, installed in one corner of the case. The voice was tinny, but distinctly female. "Ideally you woulda got me out, and Simaaka would have picked me up sometime later. Guess he sold me out for a buyer with a time limit."

"So you're an AI, then?" AIs - real AIs - were bad, bad, bad news. I didn't need that kind of trouble, and the station didn't need that kinda trouble.

"No, of course not. AIs are prohibited tech. I just seem self aware and all that. Have some programming for self-preservation, too."

"Plot with DED officials, but you're not an AI? I think there's a flaw in your logic."

"Yeah, exactly."

"What?"

"Like you said, flawed logic. Obviously I'm not an AI. The AIMED that did your last check-up is smarter'n me. Look, AIs are like pirates: Everyone worries about them, but you never really see them outside holos - where they're just used to scare people."

Auvy spoke from the other side of the table, "This is Syndicate, there're pirates everywhere. Pirates own this bar."

"Oh. I don't get out much. No AIs, though, right?"

"No."

"Good, we're agreed then, and we can get back to the important things."

I had a feeling that line of questioning wasn't going anywhere, "What are you doing here?"

"You grabbed me."

"He means in Syndicate, on this station." Auvy was giving me a very steady look, over her coffee.

"Oh, someone hijacked the ship I was on. I was sold off the with the cargo. Ended up with those Minder schmucks. Then-"

Auvy interrupted, "If you didn't believe in pirates, who'd you think hijacked the ship?"

"I had been wondering. Glad that you guys helped me clear that up. Gonna let me tell the story?"

"Oh." Auvy looked startled, "Uh, sure."

"So, the Minder schmucks. I can't do much, in here. It's like being blindfolded and having nothing but your pinky free. The hardest part was getting the anti-tech nuts to have me stolen, and putting them in touch with someone who could do it. After that making sure that the Dronies and the Minders distracted each other wasn't too tough."

"You arranged all that." I took a swig of coffee, "But you aren't an AI?"

"That again." She - the case - sounded put upon, "Look, your wrist watch is way better than you at telling time, isn't it? You don't accuse it of being prohibited tech. Same thing."

"That's not the same thing at all." My wrist watch didn't try and talk circles around me, for one thing. For another I didn't wear one, and I had a feeling if I started wearing one after this, I wouldn't trust it, "How is that the same thing?"

"Programs do different things. Calculate ballistic trajectories, or look after bank funds - you want AIs, you should talk to Intaki Bank, by the way. I have suspicions about them. Anyway, this stuff is what I do."

Auvy leaned forward, "Fine, let's say we believe you for now. Why'd you want to be stolen in the first place? The Minders thought you were the next thing to a god."

"Goddess - not my fault, you can ask the programmers why they gave me a gender. I wanted to be stolen because it was boring. You ever been worshiped? They just sat me there, and left me in this box. It was hell. Anyway, Simaaka owed me a favor. We pulled a few strings, from both sides, to get him assigned to the case, and make sure he wasn't saddled with a partner. He was supposed to get me out after the Squirrels stole me. Easier than getting me from the Minders, see. Squirrels not believing in electricity and all that, plus they're a pretty easy going bunch. Squirrel's a sort of rodent by the way."

"So Simaaka was using me - us - to get you out of their hands, since he found out the Minders and Dronies were leaning on me." I leaned back, "You're just a program, how does a DED Lieutenant-Inspector owe you anything? How can you owe a program, that way?"

"Why he owed me, it's a long story. Why he felt like he had an obligation, me just being code? I dunno. You people will anthropomorphize, won't you?"

The story gathered up a lot of loose ends, even if it seemed unlikely. I felt like it - she - wasn't being entirely straight with us, but I thought it was better than we were likely to get from anyone else. She hadn't threatened or tried to injure me yet, for one thing. "What do we do now?"

Auvy added, "And what do we call you?"

"Call me? Call me Sami." She pronounced it Sam-ee. There was a pause, "I do think there is a way for all three of us to walk away from this. You'll have to help, though."

******

Hal's was a diner off one of the more popular below-decks thoroughfares. I killed time waiting inside trying to stare down the roaches. Sami's case leaned against the side of my chair.

The head priestess for the Minders showed right on time. She brought armed friends, but I wasn't too worried. These religious crazy types were unpredictable, but it wasn't me they were really interested in. I picked up the case and thumped it on the table, "This yours?"

"The Relic." Her eyes practically glowed with religious ecstasy, "For this, you are forgiven, Thief."

"Thanks, Bulgy-eyes." She didn't seem to notice I'd addressed her, "Well, I'll just..."

I slipped out of my seat and carefully started to step around her and her entourage, when I heard something outside. Or didn't hear, in fact. No clatter of dishes from the kitchen, no sing-song of hawkers selling knock-off Labourchier shoes in the street. There wasn't a soul in sight, although the diner's kitchen door was still swinging a little from when the waiter ducked through it. Below-decks they know when it's time to disappear.

I looked out the window. Down the broad corridor outside the diner came a whole mess of Dronies, with a very fat, very angry looking man in front, flanked by the watery-eyed old fella that I'd started my day pointing a gun at. They had something with them, too. Maybe it was a rogue drone, I don't know. It seemed to be all tubing and joints and sharp bits, like an octopus and a pile of surgical tools after a ride in the blender, but a couple meters high. It chittered and clicked and light glinted off its lenses. This hadn't been part of the plan.

I started to reach for my gun, then thought better of it and dove behind the counter and crawled very quickly through the door to the kitchen. I found something to hide under, and for a little while, I prayed. I figured after a day like today, Fortune owed me.

The real noise started a minute later. I waited until I didn't hear anything, then I waited some more. Noone came back into the kitchen. By the time I left the diner, there was nothing left outside but a few stains here and there. If there had been any bodies, they were already on their way to biomassers or organ harvesters. Syndicate doesn't encourage things being wasted. Even the blood in the gutters would make its way to the reclaiming vats, eventually.

There was no sign of Sami's case.

******

Back at the office, I poured myself a drink and leaned back. I'd seen Auvy to a friend's earlier, after convincing her not to come to the meet - no small task. It might have worked out for the best, with the two cults taking care of eachother, and maybe one of them ending up with the case after a pitched battle. They should forget all about me. "Fortune grant it's so."

"Didn't take you for a religious type."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Molok's balls, Sami, you nearly scared me to death."

"Sorry." The voice came from my new neocom. It wasn't the thin, tinny thing we'd heard earlier. It was full, and sly, and held a hint of laughter at itself and everyone else. I was suddenly a little glad Auvy wasn't there. "I heard that there was a bit of a tussle. So, the Minders and Dronies are taken care of?"

"One way to put it. What about the Squirrels and Simaaka?"

"The Squirrels couldn't find their ass with both hands. I sent Simaaka a note. Given the circumstances, he doesn't have anything to gain by sticking around. With luck we'll never see him again."

I took a drink of scotch, "What'd you tell him?"

"I told him I'm free. I told him I forgive him. I told him things being what they are, he's out of luck."

Free. Things being what they were.

Sami's idea had been that we set her - it - free, into the station network. It'd kinda seemed like the thing to do anyway. Sami also assured me that once out in the system, she'd find a way to make money, and pay me for my time. I told her I was tacking on a 500 Syn surcharge since it wasn't in advance. I hoped she wouldn't turn off life support or anything.

The case had had safeguards, we'd had to bypass them. By the time I was in that diner, though, the case was just some very compact, probably very expensive electronics with nothing living in them. With luck, whoever got it in the end wouldn't bother checking. It was a god, or an abomination. Something to be worshiped or destroyed, not checked up on. You talk to your gods, but you don't really want them answering.

"Do AIs have gods, Sami?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm not an AI, though, so maybe I do. Now that I'm out, maybe I can find one."

Thinking about that, I didn't know whether to find the prospect funny or frightening. "You set yourself up as a High Priestess, Sami, do me a favour and lose my number."

Like I said.

I don't do religious.