CHAPTER VIII
KNIGHTS IN FLIGHT
We were dead. Done for. Obliviated.
“Where?” I asked. “In space? Another world?” An ugly thought hit me. “Did the Traders make it?” They would be fools to create an Oblivion. It would destroy them, too. Whether or not they could ever acknowledge that they might lose control of their own weapon was an entirely different question. It didn’t matter. Oblivion hadn’t cared the least bit about our politics or egos. It just wanted us gone, dusted away like detritus you removed from your house, world, universe.
“We found it in space,” Lavinda said. “It doesn’t appear to have any link to the Traders. It’s an ancient station. At least, we think it’s a space station. Right now, the EI in it is asleep.”
That opened even more questions. “How did you find it? Why do you only think it’s a station?” I took a breath. “No wonder you wanted to meet here, in person.”
“Yes. I didn’t want to risk using the Kyle mesh.” Lavinda spoke carefully. “Max, this discussion is secured, level 3 clearance, special access, Oblivion clearance only.”
“Understood,” Max said.
Lavinda regarded me. “We are always searching for artifacts from the Ruby Empire. That’s how we found the Lock that Pharaoh Dyhianna uses to build the Kyle mesh. This time, we found something else. It isn’t a Lock. Its construction also feels wrong. The dimensions, the arrangement of the living spaces—they aren’t designed for humans. Our analysis suggests smaller beings, perhaps not even individual entities but a conglomerate.”
I shifted my weight uneasily. “You’re sure the EI there is asleep?”
“Perhaps dormant is a better word,” Lavinda said. “We wouldn’t have recognized this one if we hadn’t already dealt with Oblivion. Our teams have studied the tech that supported Oblivion nonstop since we destroyed the EI. We haven’t gleaned much; the tech is even more alien than the ruins of the starships. But we’ve figured out enough to recognize that this new station carries a huge EI.” She grimaced. “We may have missed similar stations in the past. We’ve always focused on finding Kyle tech. This is—something else.”
“So you’re saying that two unknown alien species existed six thousand years ago, one that took humans from Earth and another that—what?” I squinted at her. “Created big EIs?”
“We’re not sure,” Lavinda said. “As of yet, we have no idea what created Oblivion, or even if it formed on its own in some way.”
I didn’t see how an EI could form on its own. I asked the obvious question. “Max, Raja, do you believe an EI race could come into existence without development from sentient beings?”
“Someone has to build the tech,” Max said.
“If you mean, could an EI evolve from the chemical building blocks of life, the way humans developed,” Raja said, “then my answer is ‘I doubt it.’” She paused. “Max, perhaps the tech could evolve from more primitive technologies.”
“We’re assuming all life develops in a similar manner to us,” I said. “Why should it? Maybe sentient life with the properties of an EI could form some other way.”
“Perhaps,” Max said. “The result probably wouldn’t resemble anything we know. I doubt we could understand their thought processes. Oblivion felt alien, yes, but not incomprehensible.”
I considered Lavinda. “What do you think?”
“We’re studying it.” She sounded as evasive as Raja.
“You have to give me more than the obvious if you want my help,” I said. “That’s why you wanted to meet, right? You think I can be useful because I interacted with Oblivion.” I was one of the few witnesses to the massive battle it fought with the Ruby Pharaoh.
“Yes. The Pharaoh hopes you can offer insights on this new EI. We didn’t want to communicate through Kyle space because we don’t know who—or what—might intercept our messages. It’s more secure if you come to the station where we found it.” She pushed a tendril of hair out of her face. “Unfortunately, that would take you off your current case. It’s so politically volatile, it could explode. We don’t want to pull you away now, when you’re making headway.”
I could have done without being important to either situation, given that either could get me killed—the politics of one could blow me up, and the other could signal the end of humanity.
“I’m getting a headache,” I muttered.
Lavinda looked startled. “What?”
“She’s fine,” Max said. “She complains about her head if she doesn’t like what she’s hearing. Such comments make no medical sense.”
“Max, stop.” I didn’t care how often head-shrinkers used EIs to aid their work, I didn’t need mine analyzing me for my employers.
“Bhaaj, tell me what you think,” Lavinda said. “Should you stay on the current case or come with me to the space station?”
“Does what I think make a difference?” Lavinda could override my choice.
“I can’t guarantee I’ll do what you want, but it does make a difference.” She regarded me steadily. “If I’ve learned anything in the years you’ve worked for us, it’s that your instincts—as unexpected as they sometimes seem—are often closer to the truth than any of us want to admit.”
I hadn’t expected that admission. Then again, they’d had plenty of reasons to fire me over the past few years, and they’d never done it. They showed me respect despite the differences in our backgrounds, that I came from the lowest stratum of life and they from the highest. I did my best to return that respect even when my resentment of their privileged lives ground at me like a drill.
So what did I think? I wanted to solve this case, and I had no desire to interact with an alien EI. However, this case primarily affected people here in Selei City, whereas a second Oblivion could threaten human existence. No, that was an oversimplification. Killing the top cyber experts in the Imperialate had far-reaching effects, potentially almost as serious as a second EI.
“I wonder if the two cases are connected,” I said.
Lavinda raised her eyebrows, one of the few people I knew who could make that gesture convincing. “As far as any of us knows, the Traders have no knowledge of this ancient EI.”
“I’m not convinced the Traders have anything to do with this current case, either.”
“We’re working with the police on the lead you gave them.” Lavinda exhaled. “So far, we’ve found no indication that this PowerPlayer13 account points toward a Trader spy cell.”
“See, this is what bothers me,” I said. “I just happened to find an account like the type that I cracked twelve years ago. Funny coincidence, that.”
“You think someone planted that clue to throw you off the real killers.”
“I’ve wondered. Dean Jaan told me all three victims played the game. I’d suggest we look more into her.” I considered for a moment. “Getting access to the underlying code of the game will require a warrant. But if you can let your mesh wizards loose on it, they can probably determine if someone faked this big ‘clue’ pointing at the Traders.”
“I’ll talk with Chief Hadar.” She looked disappointed but not surprised. “Any other leads?”
“Maybe.” I had suspicions rather than clues. “So far, most of them point to politics.”
She spoke dourly. “The Royalists.”
“I’m not convinced they have any connection,” I said. “But I’m not counting them out. Both of these cases, the killings and the EI you found, involve technology at a level advanced enough to push the limits of our knowledge.” I made my decision. “I’d suggest I keep working on the current case and come to the station with the EI when I finish. If it turns out you want me at the station sooner, you can contact me using the Kyle mesh without saying why.” I smiled. “Ask me about Prince Dayj. I was sure you came to Parthonia to check on your nephew.”
“Well, actually, that too,” she admitted. “Very well, Major. Stay here, but keep me posted. I will be in Selei City for the next few days to take my seat in the Assembly.”
Ho! I’d forgotten the House of Majda held a substantial voting bloc in the Assembly. Most noble Houses had only a titular number of votes, too little to affect the outcome of a ballot unless it was unusually close. The whole point of the Assembly, after all, was to create a government through election, not inheritance. However, the Ruby Dynasty and Majdas had larger voting blocs. Vaj Majda had additional votes as a Joint Commander of ISC, and I had no doubt the Pharaoh and the Imperator, both from the Ruby Dynasty, carried even more. It had been part of the compromise between the Modernists, Royalists and Ruby Dynasty when they formed the government.
Lavinda was watching my face. “You should attend an Assembly session.”
I stared at her. “What terrible thing have I done, that you would inflict such a heinous punishment?”
Lavinda laughed, something she did far more easily than her formidable sisters. “It might give you insight into how the parties work.”
She had a point. Not that I needed to sit in the Assembly, but that the better I understood the political parties, the better for my work on this case. Even if it ended up having nothing to do with politics, the killer or killers wanted us to believe it motivated them.
That in itself could provide clues.
Trouble showed up at the starport.
More accurately, trouble didn’t show up. Ruzik and Angel never disembarked at the gate where I waited. The hoverbus that carried the passengers from customs emptied itself and hummed off, leaving neither of them behind. With a frown, I went to the oh-so-pleasant robot receptionist standing behind his oh-so-pleasant glass counter.
“My greetings,” he said in a suitably pleasant voice.
I felt about as pleasant as a sycth-wasp. “I’m picking up two people from the Raylicon transport. They weren’t on the shuttle that just let off those passengers.”
A light on his temple glowed blue as he accessed the port mesh. “Names, please.”
“Ruzik and Angel.” Just one each. They hadn’t wanted to provide even that much; in the Undercity, we gave our names only to those we trusted, and they trusted the starlines about as much as they trusted a black-market thief. Less, actually; they had grown up with the shadowy gangs that ran the Undercity smuggling rings.
“I’m checking on them.” The receptionist appeared to study a screen on his console, but I doubted it showed anything useful. The port authority probably programmed him to do that so he didn’t just stand with a blank stare while he linked with the port mesh.
I waited, wondering if the PA made all their service bots male. Although we lived in an egalitarian society, with laws that required equal rights for women and men, vestiges of our past remained. Many of the bots that waited on people looked like handsome young men and those in positions with more authority looked like older women. It was changing, though. Starlines wanted to sell tickets and politicians wanted to get reelected, and apparently the number of people they alienated with historical biases outweighed those they alienated by modernizing their approach. Even the Ruby Dynasty had moved into the future. The Pharaoh changed the method of choosing her as-of-yet unborn heir, designating that it would be her oldest child rather than her oldest daughter, which meant a son could inherit the title. The Majdas couldn’t care less about modernization; they stayed appallingly sexist because they liked it that way, no one elected them, and they already had more wealth than any person, city, or planet could use.
“I’ve located the two people you inquired about,” the bot said. “They were detained.”
I tensed, wound as tight as a starship engine coil. “What for?”
“One moment please.”
Damn, I hoped nothing had gone wrong. Angel and Ruzik had never traveled offworld, but I thought we’d covered everything they needed. We arranged for their documents, and the Majdas deposited the funds in my expense account to cover the trip. They were also paying Ruzik and Angel a salary, though I wasn’t sure the two of them fully understood the value of the credits their new accounts had already begun to accumulate.
This is taking too long, Max thought.
Can you get anything on Ruzik and Angel?
Searching.
Good. “Searching” meant he was cracking the port security mesh.
The bot spoke. “The two passengers you seek were denied permission to enter Selei City. Port security is detaining them until the next flight back to their point of origin.” With a programmed smile, he added, “They won’t be charged additional fees for the return flight.”
“Like hell.” No one had programmed me to be polite. “I want to see whoever is in charge.”
“I am sorry, that isn’t possible.”
“I arranged for those two passengers to come here. They travel under my sponsorship.”
The bot paused, ostensibly looking at its screen, but the light in its head turned blue while it did its business. I hated to think what would happen if humans had lights that indicated when we were doing useful thinking. They might not light up that often.
“No record of a sponsor appears in their travel documents,” the bot told me.
“Max,” I said, “send him my record of the travel documents.”
“No one here is named Max,” the bot said.
“I’m Max,” Max told him. “I’m an EI.”
“Ah. I see. I am receiving your record.” It paused, doing its blue-light thing. “These documents do appear to be in order. How odd.”
How screwed. This felt like when someone blocked my access to the Majda palace.
“Send that record to the authorities holding Ruzik and Angel,” I said. The bot should do that automatically, but I didn’t want to take chances. “If you give me their location, I can go get them.”
“One moment, please.” After another pause, he said, “A customs official will bring them to you. Please remain here.”
“Thanks.” I left the counter, but I felt too tense to sit, so I stood by a column while I discreetly surveyed the gate. A few people were browsing the table with food. A young woman and man lounged against the wall of glass across the gate that looked out on the shuttle bus stop. When I met their gazes, the youth smiled and the girl shrugged at me, as if to say Tough luck for you.
Max, I thought. Can you ID those two kids leaning against the window-wall?
One moment please, Max said in a perfect imitation of the bot.
Oh stop. I tried not to laugh. I didn’t want people to think I enjoyed arguing with port bots.
Here’s a brief, Max thought. They live with their families in Selei City and attend high school in Southland Fields. They’re waiting for their grandparents to arrive on a flight from Metropoli. With amusement, he added, I suspect your problems with the port authority are more entertaining than looking out the window.
That’s a low bar on entertainment. All you could see beyond the window were shuttles buzzing along well-manicured lanes. The exciting section, the docks where the starships landed, lay far from here, with the view blocked by port buildings.
You get anything on Ruzik and Angel? I asked.
I’m still working. However, I am getting a report from your red spy beetle.
Has it found anything interesting?
It spent the afternoon buzzing around people from the co-op. That includes the hospital where they took Evan Majors, the young man you and Lieutenant Silvers saved.
How is he?
Recovering. That’s not what spurred the beetle to send a report, though. Many of the people injured in the bombing attend or work at Parthonia University and have a link to one of the departments where the three murder victims worked.
Relief flickered through me. That finding suggested the explosion had nothing to do with my presence in the condo. Shame immediately wiped away my relief. So what if I hadn’t been the target? That didn’t make the death and destruction any less horrific.
What sort of link? I asked.
Two of the injured students are among the top of their class in the departments of the murdered professors. Even Majors is second in his class in Biosynthetic Engineering. Max paused. I just checked the fatalities. One of them was a top grad student in quantum engineering. Another was a young professor in cybernetics.
Someone is killing our tech-mech geniuses. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I agree with your first statement, but I’m not sure about the second. Yours wasn’t the only building close to the university with a large concentration of tech whizzes. A few others stand in that area. Whoever set the bomb may have hoped to get you as well as their main targets.
“Great,” I muttered. One of the students eavesdropping on my conversation glanced at me.
Max, are either of those two kids connected to any tech-mech department?
Not at all. The boy is in the theatre department and the girl is a musician.
Interesting. That’s so unrelated, they might be related.
I don’t follow.
If I were killing tech-mech geniuses and I wanted to spy on the person trying to catch me, I’d use agents as unconnected as possible to my activities. Like two artistically inclined high school students. I avoided looking at the eavesdroppers, but I could see them in my side vision. They weren’t doing anything, not reading, listening to any device, or otherwise occupying themselves. They looked so nondescript, they blended into the background. Can you do a more detailed analysis on them? Specifically, could they be older than they look?
Working, Max thought. I also have reports from the green beetle.
It find anything useful?
Not yet. It checked the murder scenes. So far, all activity is as expected for a police investigation. Also, it went to Greyjan’s. It found nothing of note there, either. The tavern continues to operate as an isolated bar with almost no customers.
That’s convenient. I understood the advantages of staying unnoticed. I did it all the time, blending into the background while I investigated a case.
I’ve finished my physiological analysis of the students, Max added. Those “kids” are indeed older, by at least fifteen years. I’d wager they came to spy on you.
Pah. How annoying. Maybe I should make things interesting for them.
Wouldn’t it be better to ignore them? Don’t show your hand.
You’re full of gambling idioms today, what with your wagers and poker hands.
Well, you are married to the owner of a casino.
So I am. Someday we might even make it official by Skolian law. You’re right, I don’t want to give away that I know about them. But I can make their job more difficult. Is my blue beetle repaired from getting fried at Greyjan’s?
Yes, I’ve fixed it. I haven’t yet figured out what damaged it.
Send Blue here and have it blast digitized nonsense into any tech-mech they’re using.
A woman spoke behind me. “Major Bhaajan?”
I turned to find a human person in the blue uniform of the PA. Angel and Ruzik stood with her, glowering. They had on the clothes Jak had got for them, slacks and shirts, nothing fancy, but more upscale than the worn trousers and muscles shirts they wore at home. Although they’d trimmed their hair, it still looked more ragged than for regular citizens. Angel’s swirled in tousled curls around her shoulders and Ruzik wore his in a short buzz. Tats and scars showed on their lower arms where their sleeves didn’t cover their skin. Muscular and huge, they towered over the port agent like gorgeous young warriors.
“Eh, Bhaaj,” Angel said. If I hadn’t known her, her greeting would barely have registered, hardly more than a grunt. But I read a world of business into her tone, look, stance, all of it. The same for Ruzik. They were stunned, pissed off—and exhilarated.
I nodded my greeting, then turned to the port agent. Be polite, I reminded myself. “Thank you for bringing them here. What happened at customs?”
The tense set of her shoulders eased as I spoke. Compared to my two Undercity thugs, I probably looked and sounded normal to her. “We couldn’t find any documents in the port mesh for them.” She shifted her weight, started to speak, then stopped.
“You can talk in front of them,” I said.
“It’s just—” She glanced at Ruzik, then looked away. “They couldn’t answer any questions about their visit. They barely seemed to understand us.”
“Understand fine,” Angel growled in the Undercity dialect. Instead of “ken,” though, the word from our speech, she used the Flag word for “understand,” all three syllables, which in our dialect indicated either derision or great honor. I doubted she used it to honor the people who had refused them entry.
“You all think we sound bad,” Angel told her. “Not like our talk.”
The agent stared at Angel, then jerked her gaze back to me. “I’m sorry.”
“Tell them,” I said. “Not me.”
She took a breath, then spoke to them both. “I’m terribly sorry for the misunderstanding.”
Ruzik glanced at me with a questioning look.
“Is normal,” I told him in our dialect. “Slicks say ‘sorry’ a lot. Means respect to you.”
He and Angel nodded, accepting the explanation. We never apologized in the Undercity. It showed weakness, and weakness got you killed. Respect, though, they appreciated, especially here in a world so unlike anything they knew.
“Damn it!” someone said behind me. Glancing back, I saw the high school “kids” tapping frantically at the trendy wrist guards they wore.
Your blue beetle is quite efficient, Max thought. They were trying to monitor your conversation. No more.
Excellent. Also, see if you can find out who deleted Ruzik and Angel’s documents. I turned to the PA woman. “I don’t know why their documents got lost. You might want to have that checked.”
“I’m sure the techs will.” She considered me. “You are listed as their host. If any problems occur—” She let me fill in the rest. If Angel or Ruzik caused trouble, I’d be in it deep.
“They’re my bodyguards.” I’d actually brought them to help me on the case. I couldn’t resist saying they were guards, though, just to see her reaction.
She looked confused. Then, incredibly, she smiled. “I can’t imagine anyone will bother you then.”
How refreshing. No one in Cries reacted that way. In the rare instances when we left the Undercity, the city authorities either threw us in jail or told us we were shit and we’d better take our dust rat asses back where they belonged. It didn’t happen to me anymore when I dressed and walked like I belonged in the above city, but I never forgot.
I smiled, something we almost never did with outsiders. She’d earned it. “Have a good day.”
“You also.” She nodded to me, then to Angel and Ruzik, and went on her way.
“Strange,” Ruzik commented.
I wasn’t sure if he meant the agent or the universe in general. Angel was looking around the gate. Her eyes gleamed when she saw the long table with its platters of food and bottles of water. She tilted her head at the buffet. “Who for?”
“Anyone,” I said. Selei City starports offered food as an amenity for travelers.
She and Ruzik just looked at me, like I’d grown a second head. “An-ee-one?” Ruzik asked, using a tone that suggested derision. “Even us?”
“Yah, us. Come with.” I headed toward the table.
They followed, and soon were heaping their plates high with excellent food and bottles of water, the rarest commodity in our home under the desert. They would never accept charity; everything had to be a bargain. I told them the food was recompense after what happened with the customs officials. They seemed wickedly pleased with the bargain. In their view it had to cause a great strain on the PA to give them such astonishing food.
I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t find it within me to tell them that people here took this spread for granted, a nothing, hardly even acceptable service.
“Cyber-rider,” Ruzik stated.
“It sneaks,” Angel added.
I squinted at them. We’d been walking along a plaza outside the starport terminal while I told them about the city and my case. Mostly they listened. And looked. The vibrant sky, the rich air, the sweeping curves of the buildings, everything sparkling, bright, open to the air and full of space—they barely seemed able to absorb it. They’d manage, though. Unlike most in the Undercity, they’d ventured aboveground sometimes, driven by curiosity to explore the desert. That same wanderlust that drove them to seek new vistas would find many delights here in Selei City.
Right now, however, they looked pissed.
“No riders here,” I said. Cyber-riders, the tech-mech whizzes of the Undercity, only existed back home.
Angel jerked her head toward a kiosk we’d just passed. “In there.”
Baffled, I stopped and peered the kiosk. It looked like a standard mesh station where you could browse arrivals and departures, summon a flycar, find the nearest bathroom, or scowl at yourself in its reflective holoscreens.
“Just mesh thing,” I said.
“Sneaks after us,” Ruzik told me.
What, the kiosk? “Not ken,” I said.
Angel strode to the kiosk. As we followed, she rapped on a holoscreen at about waist height.
I joined her. “No rider.” I couldn’t figure out what she meant.
“Here!” Angel banged her fist on the screen, and the flimsy kiosk shook.
“Not hit,” I said.
Ruzik stood on her other side and looked across the kiosk at me. “Inside.”
“Only tech-mech inside,” I said.
“And rider,” Angel said.
I stared at her, suddenly understanding. “Holy shit.”
“Eh?” Angel asked.
“You picked up an EI!” Except the kiosk was too crude to have an EI brain. It used a more static AI, or artificial intelligence.
“Bhaaj jibber,” Ruzik said.
“I’m not speaking jibberish.” Realizing I’d switched out of dialect, I added, “Not jib. Angel feel tech-mech brain.”
“Tech-mech got no brain.” Angel spoke as if telling a stupid Bhaaj the simplest fact.
I scowled at her. “How you feel rider?”
She touched her temple. “Here.”
“Got cyb in your head?”
“Nahya. Not bring tech.”
“Good.” One advantage of working with her and Ruzik was they’d lived off the grid all their lives, with no permanent cybernetics in their bodies, no tech-mech, not even the health meds most of humanity took for granted. I was working to bring medical care to my people, but so far both Angel and Ruzik had refused the meds. Although it frustrated me, right now it worked in our favor, making it difficult for anyone to track them.
However, I had no clue how she could feel the AI in the kiosk. “How you hear rider?”
“Not hear,” Ruzik said.
“You ken this rider?” I asked him.
“Yah. Rider in box.”
I frowned. “Rider not fit in box. And box not have air.”
“Rider not breathe,” Angel said.
“Rider dead?” I asked.
“Nahya,” they both said.
I motioned at Angel’s head. “So how you feel rider?”
She made a frustrated noise. “Not say right.”
They were picking up something, I just couldn’t figure out what.
“Rider sneaky, yah?” I asked.
They both nodded agreement. “Spy on us,” Angel said. “Think we not know.”
“It tell you?” I asked.
“Nahya!” Ruzik scowled at me. “You not feel?”
“Not have mind like you.” They were strong empaths, another reason I’d asked them to come. They could pick up cues I missed. This spying kiosk, though, I just didn’t get. An AI didn’t have the neural brain structures to interact with a human brain.
Unless . . .
I turned in a circle, surveying the area. No one looked out of place, which meant they all appeared well fed, well educated, and well off. “Maybe not kiosk,” I said. “Maybe some slick use kiosk. You feel slick, sense path to spy tech, say kiosk.”
“What kiosk?” Ruzik ask.
I tapped the booth. “This.”
They looked doubtful, but they did survey the area. While they openly studied everyone, I watched more discreetly, to see if anyone seemed uneasy with their scrutiny. Yah, there, the woman in the blue shirt and gray slacks. She was walking away, almost invisible, except I’d disappeared that way enough myself to recognize what she was about.
“There,” I said. “By white pillar. Woman in blue top.”
“Eh?” Angel peered at the woman, then scowled and took off, striding toward her.
Shit. Discretion had never been one of Angel’s strong points. The woman in the blue shirt glanced at her, then lengthened her stride, moving fast, drawing more attention. When Angel speeded up, the woman broke into a run.
“We catch,” Ruzik said. “You be own bodyguard.” He took off, joining Angel in a chase. They loped along, their long legs devouring the distance, their bodies so well trained by their years of running through the Undercity that they effortlessly outpaced their quarry.
“Uh, no,” I said to their backs. Chasing down Selei citizens could get them in the proverbial shitload of trouble. I took off after them. Max, find out everything you can on that woman.
Working.
I managed to catch up with Angel and Ruzik, but by then we’d all reached the woman. They cornered her against a wall, a curving expanse of white softened by paintings of sea and sky.
As Angel reached out to grab her target, I clamped my hand around Angel’s bicep. “Nahya.”
“Eh?” Startled, she swung around to me, raising her fist. She caught herself before she socked me in the face, but she glowered like an avenging war goddess.
“Not chase random strangers,” I told her. Turning to the woman, I spoke Skolian Flag in my most courteous voice. “I’m terribly sorry. We meant no offense.”
The woman pulled herself up taller. “How dare you come after me like that.” She glanced at Ruzik and her mouth twisted. “I should call the port authority. You need to know your place.”
Damn. Just what I needed. Ten minutes out of the gate, literally, and already we were piling up penalties. I needed to give her a vested interest in not registering a complaint. “My deepest apologies. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.” I motioned at the kiosk, now in the distance. “My friends thought you hacked into the mesh node there and were using it to watch us. I’m so sorry.”
From the way her face paled, I knew I’d figured it right. Hah! The last thing she’d want were the authorities checking that kiosk for tampering. If her spymods were as clumsy as her attempts to follow us, they’d have no trouble finding the illegal add-ons.
“That’s crazy,” the woman said.
Angel opened her mouth to speak, but I shook my head slightly, so she shut it. To the woman, I said, “I’m sure the authorities can sort it all out.”
Her overbearing attitude abruptly shifted. “If it’s a misunderstanding, we can let it go.” She glanced at Angel, then back at me. “Your friends look like they’re, uh, new here.”
I spoke blandly. “They’re my bodyguards.”
“Bodyguards?” She stared with open scorn at Ruzik, then turned to me. “What, you’re one of those Prog types? You’re a fool to hire him. You’re compromising your own safety.”
Ruzik spoke mildly, but his voice rumbled. “Bhaaj never fool.”
“Ruzik always good choice,” Angel added. “You fool.”
The woman scowled at them. “Don’t speak gibberish to me.”
Bhaaj, Max thought. I know who hired her. She’s a PI who works for Assembly Councilor Patina Knam, a member of the Traditionalist Party.
Great. More politics. To the woman, I said, “I hope Councilor Knam pays you well for all you put up with on your job.” Given her attitude toward us, I wanted to use less tactful language, but I held back. Besides, we weren’t blameless. Angel had almost socked her.
The woman gaped at me. “How did you know—” She caught herself and said, “May you have a good day.” With that, she turned and hurried away.
“Odd,” Ruzik commented.
“Stupid,” Angel said.
“Not insult slicks,” I told them. “Not chase, damn it. Not let slicks notice you.”
“She spy,” Angel said.
Ruzik looked back at the kiosk. “We find spy eye.”
Angel grinned. “Tear apart.”
“Nahya,” I said. “Not tear. Not fight. Not hit.”
They both looked at me. Angel said, “Not do Bhaaj rules.”
“Yah, do Bhaaj rules.” Before they could inform me how ridiculous they found my rules, I added, “First rule. Learn to speak above-city.”
That earned me two blank stares.
“All here speak that way,” I added.
“Their problem,” Angel said.
“Not problem,” Ruzik told her. To me, he said, “We speak slick wick fine.”
“Not want to speak slick wick,” Angel told him.
“Not called slick wick,” I said. Whatever that meant. “Called Skolian Flag.” It was by far the most common language in the Imperialate.
“Too many words,” Angel said. “Jib.”
Patience, I told myself. I’d felt the same way when the army recruiter told me I had to learn to speak “properly.” I’d wanted to punch her. “You meet city slicks soon. Important slicks.” I used a three-syllable word to stress their importance. “You become important. Got to talk that way.”
“Always im-por-tant,” Angel made the three syllables into a joke by over-stressing them. “Not need new words.”
Ruzik looked more curious than offended. In perfect Flag, he said, “Some of those words are beautiful, Angel.”
“Heya!” I stared at him. “Good!”
Angel scowled at him, then spoke to me in a confidential tone. “Does that in bed.”
Ruzik made an exasperated noise. “Not say. Bed not Bhaaj business.”
Ah, saints, that was just too funny, the idea that Ruzik, a formidable gang leader, would sweet-talk his just-as-formidable girlfriend by speaking Skolian Flag in bed.
If you’re done being entertained by the reproductive lives of your supposed bodyguards, Max thought, I have more information about the PI. Her name is Eja Werling. And get this. Those two school “kids” also work for Councilor Knam.
Great. Now the Traditionalists had me in their sights. Send a full report to my account. I’ll take a look after I get my guests someplace where they can learn more civilized behavior.
Depends what you call civilized.
I smiled. True. To Ruzik and Angel, I said, “We go home. Talk about spy.”
“Come with,” Angel agreed.
So we set off, heading for a home we’d never seen.