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Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Isaac?” Cephalie asked, sitting on the edge of his half-empty pizza dish.

“Yeah?”

“Why are we here?”

Isaac blinked and paused with a pizza slice halfway to his mouth. He frowned and set it back in the dish. The table was laden with three personal pizzas: one with spinach, feta cheese, mushrooms, and sausage; another with chicken, bacon, and onion drenched in barbeque sauce; and a third slathered with mozzarella, cheddar, gorgonzola, and provolone cheeses with a drizzling of the Spigot’s Tongue Melter sauce. Side dishes of buttered sweet rolls, hearty meatballs, thick-cut potato fries, and fried pickles added to the clutter, though they’d already emptied a big glass bowl of the house salad.

Isaac looked over to Susan, who shrugged at him and dipped another fried pickle into her ranch dressing.

“You mean in a philosophical sense?” Isaac gave his IC a doubtful frown. “I don’t think I’m the right person for that.”

“No. I mean why are we here”—Cephalie tapped her cane against the table—“at the Meal Spigot?”

“We’re celebrating. We cracked the case and turned in a mountain of irrefutable evidence. Stade-slash-Delacroix is almost guaranteed to receive the death penalty, and the only people he permanently killed were his coconspirators! Why wouldn’t we celebrate?”

“But it’s a Meal Spigot.”

“So?”

“Don’t you think this is too lowbrow for such a tough case?” Cephalie stood up and rounded the pizza dish.

“Nah, it’s fine. Besides, remember what happened the last time we were here?” He gestured over the hot food. “Now look at it. Not an apple in sight!”

“I hardly call this an improvement,” Cephalie griped.

“Speaking of apples,” Susan said, “is Nina going to join us?”

“Yeah, she’s on her way,” Isaac said. “Said she was finishing up her very last printer in New Frontier, so this’ll be a celebration for her, too.”

“Did you ask her where she’d like to eat?” Cephalie asked.

“No, but I’m sure she’s fine with this.”

“Uh!” Cephalie shook her head. “You’re hopeless sometimes, you know that?”

“Honestly, I don’t see the issue with this place,” Susan said. “These fried pickles are great. I might have seconds.”

“We can come back tomorrow if you want,” Isaac said.

“Really?” Susan’s eyes brightened.

“Sure. We’ll be in town at least another day to wrap things up. I’d like to stop by the NFPD once more and offer our thanks to Lasky and MacFayden; we really lucked out with those two. Plus, there’s the Trinh audit to consider. Sounds like every ministry and division in SysGov is taking a crack at them, so we should check in to see if they need anything from us.” He smiled brightly. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer syndicate.”

“What’ll happen to their New Frontier factory?” Susan asked, dipping another fried pickle.

“Long term, it’s anyone’s guess. Short term, the whole place is shut down and swarming with cops. Same with Kraken Mare. Gordian took ownership of both the legit impeller and the DIY TTV, and they’re hitting Trinh for multiple contract violations. Trinh’s management will find themselves on the receiving end of some very pointed questions, but they’re a slippery lot. Hard to say how much long-term damage will be done, but regardless, other companies are going to look at their legal mess and see the benefits of establishing partnerships elsewhere.”

“And once we’re done here? Where to next?”

“We’ll head up to Kronos Station.” Isaac grabbed a fry and bit it in half. “Which reminds me,” he continued as he chewed, “I need to show you your desk.”

“I have a desk?”

“You sure do. Right next to mine.”

“You think I’ll get much use out of it?”

“Probably not.” He smiled apologetically. “Such is the life of a SysPol detective.”

“Fine by me,” Susan said. “I’m not cut out for desk work. By the way…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been getting…mail.”

“Oh?”

“From Thorn.”

“Asking for a rematch?”

“No. He wants to go on a date. He even said I could pick the synthoid he’d wear. He…sent pictures.”

“Explicit pics?”

“Yeah.”

“You going to do it?”

Susan shuddered.

“Hey there!” Nina called out from the entrance.

“Hey, Nina!” Isaac waved for her to join them and scooched over to make room. “You done with food printers finally?”

“Even better than that.” She sat down next to him with a mischievous grin. “Have you seen today’s New Frontier Times?”

“No, we’ve been so busy I haven’t read any news in days,” Isaac said. “Why? Did they post an article on the Apple Cypher? Did you get a mention?”

“Check it out and see.”

“All right.” He opened an interface and logged into the New Frontier Times. A flattering full-body image of Specialist Nina Cho filled the front page, and he read the headline out loud. “‘Rising Star in SysPol Cracks the Code’?”

“Oh? You hadn’t heard?” Nina leaned back in the booth, grinning ear to ear.

You cracked the Apple Cypher?” Isaac asked.

“Yup.”

“Congratulations,” Susan said.

“Thanks.” Nina eyed the table. “Ooh! Fried pickles! Don’t mind if I do!”

“But how?” Isaac asked. “I thought no one could make sense of the code. How’d you find time to decrypt it while fixing printers?”

“Eashy.” She swallowed. “Easy. Turned out the cypher was gibberish.”

“Then how did you catch the criminal?”

“Well, more specifically, the cypher was randomly generated. And we all know who worships randomness.”

“The perp didn’t turn out to be some Numbers punk, did he?” Susan asked.

Isaac skimmed the article for the answer.

“No, but close,” Nina said. “Try former Numbers gangster. A few of the senior detectives, Damphart included, thought someone at Flavor-Sparkle might be involved, and when I clued her in on this angle, the search narrowed in a hurry! Turns out there’s only one guy in Flavor-Sparkle’s entire Saturn branch with that background. He was packing his changes into the official updates being sent from F.S. That’s why we took so long to find the source of the corruption. We thought it must have been an external factor, but it turned out all along to be riding a built-in update feature.”

“I see we have a quote from the criminal.” Isaac cleared his throat and read. “‘I’m on a mission from the Divine Randomizer to make people eat healthier.’ Charming.”

“The guy was clearly nuts,” Nina continued. “Smart, but nuts. Damphart personally made the arrest, and Raviv held a press conference shortly thereafter. He credited me with busting the case wide open. I even made the front page of the Saturn Journal.”

“Wait a second.” Isaac blinked. “You’re mentioned in the Saturn Journal, too?”

“The Saturn Journal, Horizon Post, Ballast Life, Ring Spectator—”

“How many articles are you in?”

“—Epimethean Crier, Engine Block Weekly, the Janus Vindicator, the—”

“There’s no way.” Isaac navigated to the Saturn Journal’s front page. “No way.”

The page loaded, and a shot of Nina appeared, the viewpoint low and angled up with her gazing valiantly to the side. The headline read A HERO IS BORN in big, bold letters.

“Oh, come on!” Isaac griped.

“You should see my Esteem account. I’m getting so many tips right now!”

“All you did was say the cypher might actually be gibberish.” His eyebrows shot up, and he pointed at her. “Wait a second. That was my suggestion! I told you that!”

“Yeah.” She grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks!”

“Is our case in the news?” Susan asked.

“I doubt it with the Apple Cypher coverage sucking all the oxygen out of the room.” Isaac crossed his arms.

“I’m going to run a search.” Susan opened an interface with a smile. “This is rather exciting. I’ve never seen my name in the news before.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes—”

“Found one!” Susan spun the article around for them to see.

“‘Cop Killer Was a Cop. The Dark Side of Gordian Division Revealed.’” Isaac frowned. “Well, that’s not a promising start. Do we even get a mention in there?”

“Umm.” Susan turned the article back around and began to read.

“No,” Cephalie said. “I read that one this morning. Kaminski and Andover-Chen get all the credit.”

“Typical,” Isaac groused. “Gordian gets all the attention these days. It’s like the other divisions hardly exist anymore.”

“Maybe someone wrote a better article.” Susan started another search.

“We can only hope.” Isaac slouched back in the booth.

“By the way, Susan,” Nina said. “You still liking Themis? Even after all the chaos on Titan?”

“Absolutely. Like I said before, it’s a refreshing change of pace. I get shot at less over here.”

“But didn’t your v-wing get hit by a missile?”

“Yes.”

“Right before your synthoid received a bullet massage?”

“And your point is?”

“Wow. Guess I don’t have one.” Nina shook her head and turned to Isaac. “Remind me never to volunteer for the exchange program.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I didn’t volunteer either.”

“Found another one!” Susan presented another article to the group.

“‘Gordian’s Chief Engineer Commits Elaborate Suicide,’” Isaac read. “Oh, good grief.”

“It’s not…totally inaccurate,” Nina said.

“Does the article at least mention us?” Isaac asked.

“Nope,” Cephalie said. “I read that one, too. Kaminski gets all the credit yet again.”

“Of course, he does,” Isaac sighed.

“He is better known than us,” Cephalie added in a comforting voice. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’d be an even smaller deal if my sister wasn’t on the front page of the Saturn Journal!” He opened his own search window. “We’ve got to be mentioned somewhere. Maybe a footnote or reference?”

“Actually,” Cephalie began, “I did come across a Ballast Life article with Susan’s name in it.”

“You did?” Her eyes gleamed. “Can you show me?”

“Yeah, but you may not like it.”

Cephalie opened the article and shifted it over.

Susan’s eyes flitted over the article, and the joy drained from her face.

“‘Admin Thug Terrorizes Oortan Vacationer. Are You Next?’” she read in a dull monotone.

“Oortan vacationer?” Isaac asked. “Is that really how they characterized Kvint?”

“Yes, but I’m more concerned about the ‘Admin Thug’ part.”

Journalists.” Isaac ran his fingers back through his hair. “I suppose there’s an upside to being overlooked in the news. Right, Cephalie?”

The small woman glanced away and whistled.

“Cephalie?”

She sent a link to his interface, and the page updated.

“What’s this?” he asked. “The Free Gate Newsletter? ‘Banned Player Returns with a Vengeance. Famous Livecaster Traumatized’?”

“My name appears in the article.”

“What about me and Big Stompy?”

“Big Stompy, yes. You, no.”

“Seriously?” Isaac asked. “You mean to tell me I’m the only one here not in the news?”

“Be glad you weren’t,” Susan said as she skimmed through her unflattering article. “You want to hear a quote from Adrian Kvint?”

“Sure.”

“‘You people better do something about that woman. She’s a menace! Why, she’d sooner recycle your body than look at you!’”

“Oh, please.” Isaac rolled his eyes.

“Quit whining, you two.” Nina swept the table clear of interfaces. “We’ve got more important matters to discuss. The new season started. Time to choose.”

“Can’t I just stick with my usual?” Isaac asked.

“No way. This season requires new characters, so your pilot is way outside the level range.”

“I’m sorry,” Susan said. “What are you talking about?”

“The latest Solar Descent season started,” Nina explained. “Have you heard of it? Isaac and I have a gaming group, but sometimes we have trouble keeping a regular schedule. Anyway, for this season, we’ve got to create new characters if we want to play the season scenarios.”

“What’s Damphart rolling?” Isaac asked.

“Combat medic.”

“Again?”

“She likes playing support classes.”

“In that case, can I create another pilot?”

“Nope. They’re not allowed this season.”

“Fine. Do you have the list of allowed classes?”

“Here you go.” Nina opened an interface.

“Hmm.” Isaac perused the list. “Abyssal harbinger might be fun to try.”

“Is that an evil class?” Susan asked.

“Not…inherently so.”

“Sounds like an evil name to me.”

Nina elbowed Isaac in the ribs. He gave her a tired look, and she nudged her head toward the Peacekeeper.

“Susan?” He glanced her way. “Would you like to join us?”

“Oh!” Nina clapped her hands together. “What a wonderful idea!”

“Are you sure?” Susan asked. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Perish the thought,” Nina said. “These scenarios scale to the number of players, but four is considered the sweet spot. Almost all the professional teams use four players, though speedrunners might devise more optimized strategies after the scenario goes public. Anyway, we’d love to have you join us.”

“Absolutely.” Isaac sat up. “Besides, the only game you’ve seen so far is RealmBuilder.”

“Oh, we have to fix that!” Nina exclaimed with a grin. “We can’t have that lame diversion be her only impression of our games.”

“All right then.” Susan leaned closer. “Then, yes, I’d like to join.”

“Wonderful!” Nina eased the interface toward her. “First step is to select a class. What sort of play styles do you enjoy most?”

“Something that fights on the front lines and shields the rest of the party.”

“That’s good, because we could use someone like that,” Nina said. “I was toying with the idea of playing a laser mage, and if Isaac’s going to be a harbinger, we’ll have two glass cannons on our team. We could use someone tough to protect us.”

“I could do that,” Susan said.

“Here.” Isaac highlighted one of the classes. “Why don’t you check out the stellar vanguard?”

Susan enlarged the image of a humanoid in iridescent blue armor, heavy shield in one hand and glowing sword held aloft in the other.

“They’re tough to kill, even at level one,” Isaac explained. “They start off with tiers in Health Regen Aura and Impact Reduction Aura. Plus, their class weapons are a shield that doubles as an upgradable drone, and a sword that shoots spell beams. What’s not to love? Basically, they’re space-paladins.”

“It’s perfect.” She smiled at him. “When’s our first session?”


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