CHAPTER XI
TALK, SMALL OR OTHERWISE
In person, Jazin Akarad looked exactly as she had appeared in the holocast I’d seen at the starport, every bit the aristocrat. She spoke Skolian Flag with a perfect Iotic accent.
“Chief Hadar tells me you are here to help solve the case.” Akarad left no doubt about her opinion of that statement; she regarded me as if I were a bug on the parquetry floor of her beautifully appointed office. Tiles covered its walls and ceiling, each hand-painted with borders that resembled vines. The high windows let sunlight fill the room. The place was larger than the entire living room of the townhouse, and most of the space here was unused, just for aesthetics. We sat at a table designed from a golden wood and inlaid by the same tiles as the walls. Our chairs had similar tiles decorating their arms and backs, as did the tray that held the goblets with wine that a server had provided. It all looked so gorgeous, I wondered how she lived here. I’d be afraid to damage all that beauty just by existing.
I answered her in Iotic. “That’s right, I am working with Chief Hadar.”
Akarad’s eyebrows went up. “You speak Iotic? How?”
“I learned in the military.” Some of our COs had come from the nobility. Of course they’d all spoken Flag, but I’d fast learned that if I could use their language, it helped with advancement. I found it easy to learn; ancient Iotic wasn’t that different from our dialect in the Undercity, and modern Iotic had many similarities to the ancient tongue.
“So,” Akarad said. If she could put a universe of dismissal into one word, she’d just done it.
Calm, Max thought.
I’m good, I answered. This wasn’t the first time I’d dealt with someone who felt I wasn’t qualified for some reason or another.
I tapped a panel on my gauntlet. “I’m recording this via standard police protocols. Do you agree to this process?” The records we made of our meeting would go to the police, who could analyze them to their heart’s content. Hadar had insisted on it when he learned how often I operated off the grid on my cases. It didn’t matter as much here; I wasn’t going to the Undercity, where no one would even talk to me unless our conversations remained private.
“Yes, I agree.” She tapped her wristband, activating her own recorder. “I imagine you like being recorded for others to see.”
“Not particularly.” In fact, I hated it. “Why do you say that?”
“Yesterday you made quite a—splash, shall we say?”
I wasn’t good with water idioms, having grown up in a desert. “You’ll have to be more specific than ‘splash.’”
“Did you arrange to have that reporter follow you around? Her presence was convenient.”
Screw that, I thought.
Be polite, Max reminded me. Don’t alienate her.
I spoke with the best courtesy I could muster. “I had no idea a reporter was in the area, nor did I want her there. It is harder to do my work when people know my identity, and neither I nor my friend are comfortable with that sort of attention.”
“So.” She sounded like Lavinda, except I liked Lavinda. Sure, as a Majda, Lavinda had the accent, the look, the privileged background. But not the arrogance. Given that she ranked even higher than Akarad, that told me good things about her character.
You thought Lavinda was arrogant when you first met her, Max reminded me.
Not exactly. I found her hard to read. To Akarad, I said, “I’ve seen your responses to the claims by the killers. Your public statements leave no doubt that they don’t represent the Royalists.”
“So will any statements I make.” She spoke firmly. “Whoever is committing these crimes has no association with our party.”
“Then why are they making that claim?”
Impatience tinged her voice. “If we knew that, we wouldn’t need your services.” After a moment, she added, “Such as they are.”
Stay calm, Max thought.
I am calm. To Akarad, I said, “That’s the second time you’ve spoken as if you have doubts about me. Why? If you resist answering my questions, it makes it more difficult to solve this case.”
She frowned, probably put off by my bluntness. Tough. I had neither the time nor patience to play deferential commoner to her aristocratic sense of privilege.
Then, unexpectedly, she said, “Very well. Ask your questions.”
I took a breath, relieved. “I understand your party in no way supports, condones, or takes responsibility for the murders. But is it possible that some fringe faction might be doing this?”
“I can’t imagine why.” She shook her head, a controlled movement, as if she rationed even her gestures. “I realize someone from your—background—isn’t familiar with the noble Houses. But you should realize that no House would ever resort to such methods. It is the antithesis of what we stand for. We use the avenues of politics, not violence. I’m sure you are used to another way of life. You will have to adapt if you intend to solve this case.”
I met her gaze coldly. “You do know I work for the Majdas, don’t you?”
She stiffened, then said, “I see.”
“I agree this isn’t normal for the noble Houses,” I said. “But not everyone in your party comes from the aristocracy. You could have a fringe operating without approval.”
“No.” She regarded me with a cool gaze. “We would know.”
“How can you be sure?”
Her look suggested my intellect was as compromised as her view of my background. “Well, if they aren’t interacting with us, they aren’t part of the party. Obviously.”
“Unless they are Royalist sympathizers who know the main party doesn’t want them.”
“You have an active imagination.”
Yah, right. “Are you saying your party has no sympathizers?”
She frowned at me. “Of course I’m not saying that. Many people share our philosophies.”
“Lady Akarad, I’m sorry to keep pushing on this. I was brought in on this case because I’m willing to ask questions that people often don’t want to hear.” Courtesy, I reminded myself. “I don’t mean to offend or try your patience. It may be that hints exist in places we don’t expect.”
“You should look at the Progressives.”
“Do you have anything that implicates them?” At this point, I’d settle for circumstantial evidence. It wouldn’t hold up in court, but it might give me a lead.
She regarded me with a chilly stare, long and silent. Except I knew that trick. She meant to unsettle me so I’d start talking, letting her avoid answering my question. I met her gaze and waited.
The time stretched out.
Akarad finally said, “The analysis done by my EI suggests that the chaos caused by these killers claiming to be Royalists would most benefit the Progressive Party.”
Well, good for her EI. “In other words, you have no evidence.”
“The conclusion is self-evident.”
“The Progressives say it’s bullshit.”
She stiffened. “You needn’t be rude, Major.”
Hah! She’d called me Major, the first time she’d deigned to give me a title. “My apology if I caused offense. What about the Technologists? Has your party had trouble with them?”
Her voice turned icy. “No.”
“The Tech spokeswoman is a Rajindia noble. Was that a deliberate choice?”
“I have no idea. You will have to ask the Technologists.”
I spoke thoughtfully, outlining my ideas. “In the army, several of my COs were Royalists. They sought out Techs for support in developing weaponry. Your two parties often work together. The greatest challenge to Royalists isn’t Progressives. It’s the Traditionalists, because your goals overlap with theirs.” I thought of the reading I’d done for this case. “Your close relationship with the Techs helps keep your party current. Traditionalists don’t have that advantage. They’re mainly interested in social issues, but their policies also affect their stance on technology. Any tech-mech that benefits change is anathema to them.” Not that it stopped the PI from following me at the port. “The Trads benefit more from ruining your relationship with the Techs. People aren’t likely to switch from the Royalists to the Progs, but they might go from the Royalists to the Trads.”
Akarad stared at me. “I assume your EI came up with that analysis?”
Where had that come from? “Not at all. It’s from me. Why do you ask?”
“You figured that all out?”
“It wasn’t that hard.” It seemed obvious.
She made a huffing noise. “If you say so.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Why don’t you think I could figure it out on my own?”
“With your background, you wouldn’t seem to have the—” She stopped, clearly searching for words, probably ones that she thought would be tactful. “The education.”
“The education to do what?”
“Think.” She said it with a perfectly straight face. “Your analysis requires a sophisticated view of Imperial politics, an understanding beyond what someone who grew up in a slum as a—” She sniffed again. “I believe the word is dust rat? Obviously you wouldn’t think in the same way as those of us in the higher echelons of the government.”
Yah, well, fuck you too. “I have a degree in Mechanical Engineering with Highest Honors from the Kaymar Institute of Technology on Metropoli.” It was one of the top technology schools in the Imperialate. “And we don’t call ourselves dust rats. It’s considered a slur.”
“Major, you needn’t get emotional.”
“That’s all you have to say after what I just told you?”
“Obviously you got into KIT as a favor to someone.”
“Really?” The sarcasm dropped off my words. “And who might that be?”
Bhaaj, Max warned. This is going off the rails. You need to rein it in.
Her voice turned colder than ice. “Who sponsored your application?”
I took a moment and then spoke in a more courteous voice. “No one. I got in through the blind admissions process. They evaluate you solely on the results from a battery of tests.” The process had gone on for a tenday, with numerous tests. No identifying marks had appeared on our work. We were just numbers, which meant any biases they had against a grunt from the Undercity wouldn’t apply. “After KIT accepted me, the army paid my tuition as part of their officer candidate program.”
She stared at me. “You got in through the blind admit program? That’s impossible!”
“Why?”
“Why?” She was practically spluttering. “You’re a dust rat.”
Bhaaj, don’t blow up, Max said.
I’m all right. I wasn’t, but I knew how to deal. This happened a lot when I was trying to get into the officer program. I made myself speak calmly. “Lady Akarad, the term ‘dust rat’ is considered derogatory among my people. I ask that you stop using it.”
“I believe we are done here.” Although she spoke with control, I could tell that under that perfect veneer, she was ready to blow holes in the sky.
Yes, we’re done, Max thought. You need to leave before one of you says something you can’t fix.
She already has. She just doesn’t know it. I stood up and bowed from the waist, using the least amount of bending that would still qualify as polite. “Thank you for your time.”
I jogged through the city, going nowhere, just moving while my pulse calmed. I felt as if I’d run a marathon.
After a while, as my thoughts settled, I slowed to a walk. I’d reached Embassy Row in the Hightower District, a wide avenue with distinguished buildings on either side. Max? I thought.
I’m here. Are you doing better?
I’m all right. It’s just been years since that happened, at least that extreme.
You handled it well.
I didn’t, but thank you for saying that.
You were fine, as will be clear from your recording of that meeting. He sounded smug. She can’t doctor the record. It went straight to the police station.
My mood lifted. Well, yes indeed, it did. I had no doubt Akarad would file a complaint and tell Hadar I should be removed from the task force. It would be interesting to see his reaction after he saw the record of our interview. He might still want me off the job, but at this point, I didn’t care. Sure, I had pride in my work and I didn’t want to disappoint the Majdas. If I screwed up here or my findings implicated the Royalists, they might fire me. But I loathed this case.
I trusted Lavinda, though. She wanted the truth without any doctoring to make anyone look better. The final decision about whether or not I kept my job resided with Vaj Majda, the formidable Matriarch of the House, but she listened to her sister.
Bhaaj, one of those shimmerfly drones is following us, Max thought.
I stopped to look around. Stately mansions rose on either side of the boulevard, separated by gardens. Cherry-rose trees full of deep pink blossoms nodded over the houses and street. Directly overhead, the sky shone, a blue-lavender color that reminded me of glazed china plates. A few birds flitted among the trees and warbled their songs. I saw no shimmerflies, though.
Where is it? I asked.
In the trees across the street, almost directly opposite where you are standing.
I waited as a hovercar hummed by, then headed across the avenue. I could see yellow and blue birds in the trees, but no shimmerfly. I can’t find it. Turn on my eye augs.
Done. The drone is moving away, going up the boulevard.
I headed north on a path parallel to the street. An iridescent glimmer flitted up ahead among the leaves. Yah, I see it. That looks like a real shimmerfly.
I’m getting signals from it. Faint, but distinct. Would you like to try catching it?
Let’s follow it instead, see if we can find where it’s going.
It’s going where you are going.
I stopped. So did the glimmer ahead. Can you hack it? I want to find who sent it.
I still have the shimmerfly Angel caught. Although she crushed part of it, I did find identifiers in its memory. I can use that data to help crack this one . . . After a moment, he said, I found the map of its path through the city. Big surprise—it started from Greyjan’s.
Huh. It all seemed to come back to that enigmatic tavern. Any news from Angel and Ruzik?
They arrived there about an hour ago. I’m not sure what they did after they sent the blue beetle away. It’s monitoring the tavern at a distance.
Can it pick up anything about them?
Only some of their vital signs. They’re inside the tavern, eating and having drinks.
I hoped they weren’t drinking too much. Let Blue go closer, enough to see what they’re doing. I thought of its past efforts. If Blue goes into the tavern, do you think it’ll get fried?
I can’t say. The damage before happened when I tried to get underneath the non-tech facade hiding the tavern. I’m guessing that set off an alarm.
I set off walking again, and the shimmer moved with me, flitting among the cherry-rose trees. Tell Blue not to do any deep dives. Just keep watch on Angel and Ruzik.
Will do. Then he added, We’re about to pass some pedestrians. They are coming around the corner up ahead.
Sure enough, five people appeared at the intersection, two women, two children, and a baby carried by one of the women. Anything strange about them?
No, they appear to be a family out for a stroll.
I nodded as we passed, and they nodded back, casual and friendly. It was refreshing.
A man came out of a mansion on the next block, Max thought. He’s watching you.
I slowed my pace. With my vision magnified, I could see him clearly. He looked familiar, though I couldn’t place why. Does he pose any danger?
None that I see. I’m doing a recognition scan. After a moment, he said, Bhaaj, it’s Ambassador Majors, the father of the boy you saved after the co-op bombing.
No wonder he looked familiar. He resembled his son, though his hair had grayed at the temples and a few lines showed around his eyes, adding just enough years to make him look distinguished. I suspected he deliberately let that happen. An ambassador could afford even better health meds than I carried in my body, and mine kept me looking in my late thirties, ten years younger than my true age.
I kept going, watching Majors. He stood under a trellis heavy with vines and blue flowers that resembled small trumpets, the end of a path that wound through the gardens of a mansion set a ways back from the boulevard out here to the road. As I neared him, he raised his hand in a greeting.
Handsome man, I thought. Although he clearly came from the upper classes, he had a more rugged appearance than most and an athletic build, both traits I’d always found appealing.
Like Jak, Max reminded me.
Interesting. Max almost seemed territorial. I’m not interested in that way. Jak’s my man. Following Major’s lead, I gave him a wave of greeting. What’s the proper form of address for an ambassador?
Call him Your Excellency.
I stopped by the rustic gate. “My greetings, Your Excellency.” Normally I sucked at small talk, but I’d learned to manage a few sentences. “It’s lovely out here today.”
“It is indeed,” he said. “Thank you for coming. It’s kind of you to stop by.”
Ho! He thinks I came here on purpose. “It’s no problem,” I said. “The walk was pleasant.” That made three sentences of small talk. I was on a roll.
Maybe that’s why you took this route, Max offered.
Who knows? I’d given up trying to figure out my subconscious.
Majors opened the gate. “Come walk with me.”
“Thanks.” I passed through the gate with some dread. It sounded like we were going to have a conversation that lasted more than three sentences. I’d better not screw up. I’d already failed miserably in the Polite-Talk department with the Royalist spokeswoman.
We followed a path shaded by trees that reached high above our heads. The gardens went on for a long way; we weren’t even close to the house. Shimmerflies flew everywhere, also other pretty insects with gauzy wings in bright tiger patterns. Birds trilled, some red, others gold and purple. With so much the life and color, I lost sight of the shimmerfly drone.
Majors spoke in a quiet voice. “Using words to good effect is part of my job, and my ability to apply them well is a large part of why I received this post. But today I don’t know the right words.” He regarded me steadily. “If not for you, I would be preparing my son’s funeral instead of visiting him at the hospital. No words could ever fully express the depth of my gratitude.”
“I’m just glad we could help. Lieutenant René Silvers played a major role in getting him out. I just held up the rubble.”
“We were able to reach her yesterday.” He smiled, a gentle expression, one of those smiles that spoke of a life well lived. “She’s already been out to visit the family.”
Good. I was glad one of us had responded to him in the timely manner he deserved. “Will your son be all right?”
“The doctors expect a full recovery.” He nodded to me. “Thank you for what you said about him being brave. He told me that he was terrified when he was buried. He felt like a coward.”
I thought of my years in combat. “Courage doesn’t mean a lack of fear. It means you go on despite how you feel. He handled himself well, never panicking or losing his calm even when that mountain of debris was crushing him.”
Majors breathed out, a long, slow breath. “He’ll be moving in here for a while, until he’s ready to return to school. The university granted him a leave of absence for this term.” He gave me a guilty look. “I’m hoping to convince him to live here even after he goes back to school.”
“I hope it works out.”
We talked for a while longer, strolling through his peaceful garden, and gradually I felt better. Majors was a classy guy, an antidote to the bad aftertaste left by my meeting with Akarad.
Eventually we returned to the gate, and I set off down the boulevard again. I passed a few joggers out doing their thing, so I fell into a loping run. I wasn’t trying to best anyone, but I easily passed the other runners in front of me. It felt good to stretch my legs.
My comm buzzed. Startled out of my reverie, I tapped the receive panel. “Bhaajan here.”
“Major, this is Chief Hadar at the police station. I’ve an update for you on PowerPlayer13.”
I slowed down so I could talk normally. “Did you find their identity?”
“Actually, both of them,” he said. “The person you interacted with a few years ago when you lived here isn’t the same PowerPlayer13 who chatted with the three victims.”
Huh. Interesting. “That’s a twist. Who are they?”
“The person you knew is a chef who played Power Meld for years and chatted with other players on a regular basis. She dropped out of the game a few years ago after she started her own restaurant.” Then he added, “I’ve actually eaten at her place. The food is quite good.”
He sounded less suspicious of me today, more like a fellow puzzle solver chasing a lead. “I’ll check her place out. What about the other person using that name?”
“It looks like you had the right of it. Someone planted those chats in the accounts of all three victims. It took some untangling, but I’ve a good tech team. The fake chats appeared the same day the news went public that you were coming to help with the case. Dean Jaan says she has no link to the hacking. We’re looking into it, but her story checks out and she’s passed two lie detector tests.”
“So you think this clue that points to the Traders is a misdirection?”
“A rather sophisticated one,” Hadar said. “We almost fell for it.”
I went silent as I passed a pedestrian watching some show on her holo-glasses. Then I said, “Do you know who set up the fake leads?”
“Yes.” He spoke with grim satisfaction. “A Progressive group known as the Templars. They consider themselves fighters against the status quo, supposedly saving the rest of us from the tyranny of our rigid adherence to the traditions of our past. Whatever that means.”
Even my apolitical self had heard of the Templars. “I thought they’d formed to battle oppression. They fight using the mesh, though, not through violence.”
“So they claim. However, our trace implicates them.”
I considered the idea. “I could believe the Progressives would set up fake accounts if they thought they had good reason. But killings and bombings? That doesn’t fit.”
“It seems more likely than the Royalists.”
“Why? Sure, the Progs exist to upset the status quo. So do the Royalists, even if they don’t admit it. They want to put the Pharaoh back on the throne.” I considered the thought. “Neither group advocates violence, but either could have a fringe willing to do whatever they believe necessary to achieve their goals.”
“Well, at the moment we have nothing definitive implicating either group.” He audibly exhaled. “The evidence we thought we had against the Traders turned out to be fake. We haven’t ruled out anyone, but as far as actual evidence, we’re back to square one. No substantial clues.”
“We do have leads, though.” I tried to be optimistic. “I’ll talk to the Progs today.”
“Very well, Major. I’ll let you know if we find anything else. Out.”
“Out.” I went back to running, mulling over what Hadar had told me. Could the Templars also be spying on me? Max, is the shimmerfly drone still following me?
It is indeed, flitting all over the place. I haven’t found out much, other than it has good security protections, far more than a garden drone would need.
I followed a path that went around a traffic circle in downtown Selei City. Traffic hummed past me. A public car slowed as it passed, but I didn’t flag it down. Has the drone done anything you think poses a threat?
Not at all. If anything, I’d say it’s entertaining itself by following you.
I suddenly stopped. Hey!
Hey, what?
I set off running again. Can you put me in contact with Lavinda?
One moment. Max paused. She’s in a meeting. I left a message.
Good. Thanks. Have you located the red beetle yet?
Not yet. I continue to search.
How are Angel and Ruzik at the tavern? Did the blue beetle get inside?
Yes, it recorded their activities. He paused. They got into a fight.
What! What the hell are they doing?
They are running along the highway that leads back to the city. I assume they are returning to the townhouse. The owner of Greyjan’s kicked them out of the tavern.
Well, shit on a chute. What happened?
One of the other patrons harassed Ruzik. She’s apparently a Traditionalist and figured a man at a tavern was “loose.” She propositioned him, using some rather rude language. Angel hit her. They got into a fight. Ruzik and the three other patrons at the bar joined in. A note of satisfaction crept into his voice. Angel and Ruzik made short work of them.
I tensed, alarmed. Both of them could kill, and if they felt their lives were threatened, they would. I spent a great deal of time teaching my students the philosophies of tykado, including the idea that they fought to neutralize their opponent, not kill. Goddess, I hoped they remembered that.
Did they hurt anyone? I asked.
The woman who propositioned Ruzik has a black eye. The others have bumps and bruises. No one went to the hospital. Angel and Ruzik are fine.
I wasn’t ready to relax yet. Did anyone press charges?
No. Max sounded puzzled. I don’t understand this interaction. My impression from the recording is that they all enjoyed themselves.
I finally let myself feel relieved. It’s not one of the more sensible parts of human nature. But yah. It happens.
Well, I have someone more sensible for you to talk to. Lavinda Majda’s aide just asked for your code so the colonel can comm you.
I slowed down, catching my breath. Good. Give her my code.
My wrist comm buzzed, and I tapped the panel. “My greetings, Colonel.”
“My greetings. Raja said you commed. Do you have an update?”
“It’s possible. Is this line secured?”
“Yes, on my end. Do you have a shroud on yours?”
“Yes, I do.” I hadn’t expected to need it, but after what happened at Greyjan’s that first night, I brought it everywhere. I pulled off my backpack and reached inside to activate the jammer, those functions that would protect my correspondence with Lavinda, hiding my lips, muting my words, and securing our line. I’d also subvocalize my comments, and the comm tech would convert tiny motions of my lips and throat into words on Lavinda’s end. “It’s operating, level three confidence.”
“Good. What’s up?”
“I’d like to talk about the EI that ISC found.”
“Go ahead. I’ll stop you if I want any of the discussion reserved for an in-person meeting.”
“Good. Given that it’s asleep, what made the army believe they’d found another EI?”
“It’s size, for one.” She sounded puzzled by my question.
“How did you determine its size?”
“We’ve analyzed the supporting technology and used probes to determine what corresponds to empty memory and what appears occupied by code.”
“Didn’t the analysts who study the ruins of the starships on Raylicon do the same?”
“Yes, of course. Experts have studied those ruins for centuries, millennia even, if you count the age before we had mesh technology.”
“And they never found Oblivion?”
“It was well hidden.”
“And yet, in just the short time since Oblivion woke up, less than two years, the military managed to find this new station, study it, and identify another giant EI.”
“It’s not coincidence, Bhaaj. We know what to look for now. We’ve also added resources to our search for ancient tech.”
I thought for a moment, ordering my ideas. “Suppose Oblivion had never existed. Do you think ISC would’ve found this space station and realized it housed an EI?”
“Eventually we would have discovered the station. Not as soon, though.” After a moment, she added, “Whether or not we would have realized it housed an EI—I don’t know.”
“It just strikes me as odd that you all determined this one existed when no one had a clue that Oblivion was asleep in those ancient starships even though we’ve known about those ruins for millennia and have studied them with modern technology for over a century.”
She spoke dryly. “Yes, well, Oblivion scared the bloody hell out of us.”
Myself as well. “I’m wondering if it’s possible ISC is seeing something in this EI that isn’t there. The way the EI hides—it almost seems like an inexperienced attempt to use the station tech for something other than its original purpose.” I thought of the past few days. “It’s like what happened when someone stopped me from reaching you. Sure, it worked, but your tech people easily found and fixed the problem. Whoever did it had smarts but not skill.”
Lavinda spoke quietly. “You have an idea about the identity of this inexperienced genius?”
“Yes! It all makes sense, what happened at Greyjan’s, the shimmerfly drones, even the cyber-cyclist.” I didn’t want to sound nuts, and I wondered if I should say more over a comm.
Lavinda waited, then said, “Go ahead.”
I took a breath. “It’s an EI, yah, but it’s not an Oblivion. Lavinda, it’s a baby. A baby EI.”