“Don’t need to be Terran to appreciate kaf. Though that’s more for the kick than the taste.” He sat down and lifted the mug a few times, testing the magnetic field that held it in place. “So . . . you’ve been doing some research on me.”
“Would you expect anything less?”
“Back home, no. But without the outernet it’s pretty challenging. Color me impressed.” He sipped carefully from the mug. “Not that I can return the favor, since a certain outrider has locked me out of her ship’s innernet.”
“Says the man I had to shove through an imaginary wall.”
He winced. “Fair enough.” Another sip. “Have you gotten your new orders?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Not orders. But yes, my contact responded. He asked me to hunt down the designer of Shenshido’s rogue software.”
“Which would require what, exactly?”
“Following the signal we discovered. Into the sector where all the bad people hang out.”
He grinned. “Sounds like fun.”
Was he being sarcastic? She didn’t know him well enough to be sure. “It depends on what kind of information Ivar can give us.” She sipped from her cup of replicated fruit juice. “Assuming he’s willing to share what he knows.”
“He might not know anything. If Shenshido’s software infected him without his being aware of it—like it did with me—he may be as much in the dark about its source as we are.”
What if that infection is still active? she thought. We’re assuming the distance from Shenshido will protect you, but what if we’re wrong? What if it left something inside your brain that can affect you outside that network? “True,” she murmured. She put her cup back down on the table; it snicked softly against the magnetic surface. “Either way, I have two choices. The first is to head back to Harmony, drop you off, and then continue the investigation alone. The problem with that is, I can’t just set you down on the waystation and leave. My contact needs to evaluate you before you’re released into the general population. He’s decent enough, for a Guildsman, but ultimately I doubt he’ll be the one deciding your fate. And I can’t answer for how others would treat you.”
“Understood,” he said solemnly. “And the other choice?”
She leaned back in her chair. “You could help me trace this thing to its source. Between your knowledge of virt technology and your experience with Tridac, you’re a valuable asset.” She paused. “There’s only one problem.”
He put his mug down. “How do you know you can trust me.”
She nodded.
For a moment he was silent. Was he accessing his brainware for data, or just weighing his options in the old-fashioned way, sans digital assistance? “What would you need from me, to make that possible?”
“You can start with the truth.”
“I told you that on Shenshido.”
“All of the truth.”
He sighed heavily, and for a few seconds just stared into his kaf. “Tridac asked me to review the software for Dragonslayer. They said that if there was something in it that could explain what happened on Harmony, I was the one who could find it. But while I was working on it . . .” he inhaled deeply, “it looked like they were setting me up to take the blame for the attack. So I left. I figured if I could get back to Common Law space I’d at least be guaranteed due process. Only I guess they anticipated that move. I was attacked en route. Driven into Shenshido’s space, where the spiders got me. In hindsight . . . maybe Tridac manipulated me into doing that. Maybe it was their plan all along. Twenty/twenty hindsight, yeah?” He took another drink from his mug. “Is that enough truth for you? Because if there’s an alternative to being delivered to the Guild to have my brain dissected, I’m all for it.”
She hesitated, then took a small envelope out of her pocket, withdrew a folded printout from it, and handed it to him. It was the part of Jericho’s letter that talked about Tridac’s accusation and Bello’s alleged death. As he read it, his expression darkened. “Sons of bitches.” He slammed the printout down onto the table, then drew in a ragged breath. “It’s not true. Any of it.”
“I believe you. Here.” She handed him the envelope. “You’ll need this, to stay out of trouble.”
“What is it?” He peered inside, then turned it upside down, spilling out the contents: printouts, cards, a data chip. He picked up one of the cards. “ID?”
“If Tridac thinks Micah Bello is dead, then he needs to stay dead. Which means you need to become someone else.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You had this ready for me?”
Smiling slightly, she nodded.
“You were so sure I would want to come with you?”
“I was pretty sure you wouldn’t want to go back to Harmony.”
“Yeah.” He snorted. “For sure.” He drew the bio out of the pile and looked it over. “Anthony Bester, huh? Degree from Core West University . . . that’s a shitty school. And Isolation Studies is a shitty major.” He skimmed the rest of the page. “No wonder this version of me never made much of himself.”
“The goal was to design you a history that wouldn’t draw notice. It’s been entered in all the proper databases.”
He looked up at her. “This is from your contact?”
She nodded. “I told you. He’s a decent guy. For a Guildsman.”
“But if I use this name, he’ll know it’s me. He can track me with it.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “that is the downside.”
“Shit.” A long silence. “You realize this mission of yours could get us both killed?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying that outside of a game.”
“The plan is to gather information, not engage the enemy. Others will do that after we deliver our report.”
“Hopefully.”
“Hopefully,” she agreed.
“But the best-laid plans of mice and men, huh?” He put the bio back down on the table. “You understand, I’m not used to risking my actual physical neck—”
“But you’ve written stories about it.” She smiled sweetly. “Call this research.”
He stared at her for a moment, then chuckled. “Damn it, woman. You should have gone into sales.”
She leaned forward on the table. “Are you going to tell me that the mystery of all this doesn’t intrigue you at all? That the risk doesn’t appeal to you? That you didn’t feel more alive on Shenshido than you ever did in one of your make-believe worlds?”