“I’ll consider it a loan. And I’ll pay it back with interest.”
Dominic chuckled. “As you wish.”
It was an old game of theirs, the duel of debt. Dominic liked people to owe him things; Ivar hated owing anybody. But today the dance had a darker tenor. You will never own me, Ivar thought. Nor will anyone else.
He pushed himself up from the chair, trying not to favor his damaged leg too much. The last person he wanted to display weakness in front of was Dominic Saito. “Your hospitality is appreciated—as is your counsel—but I think it’s time I headed down to the core and saw things for myself. Not to mention let everyone know I’m back from the dead.”
“You have my contact information if you need it.”
“I do.”
There was more that he’d wanted to talk to Dominic about. Things he wanted to ask him. If there were signs that Shenshido’s madness was infecting Hydra, this man would have heard about them. But asking for information right now seemed like a bad idea. Asking for anything seemed like a bad idea. Better to parry that debt and quit the dueling ground unbloodied.
“Be careful,” Dominic warned him as he left.
“I always am,” he responded.
It was just a small lie.
When in doubt, amuse the bad guys.
MICAH BELLO
Outside the Game Box: Square Peg Strategy in a Round Hole World
HARMONY NODE
HYDRA COLLECTIVE
“HOW DO I look?”
Ru looked up from her mapping project, blinked, and looked again. “Where on Guera did you get that clothing?”
“You said I could take anything of Tully’s that I needed and do whatever I wanted with it.”
“Yes, but . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything of his that looked like that.”
Micah was wearing Tully’s reinforced jacket, but instead of being the crisp, clean item she remembered, it now looked like someone had lived in it—and slept in it—for at least a decade. The collar and cuffs were visibly worn, and judging from the faded color at the elbows, the sleeves were close to wearing through. Parts were discolored, as if someone had ineptly tried to scrub out stains. A chain was clipped to one shoulder, hanging in a loop under his arm, like a military decoration, and there were small tokens pinned to the front pocket, like trophies. Inside, she knew, was a layer of armor cloth strong enough to repel small projectiles and insulating enough to protect the wearer from surface charges, but the outside looked like crap. His pants were the same ones he’d been wearing before—seamless jeans, neat enough—but they, too, looked like they’d aged years in the last few hours.
She couldn’t stop staring.
He smoothed his hands down over the altered clothing with obvious pride. “I found a component in the cleaning assembly with an abrasive surface that I used to wear down the fabric. And I borrowed some glycolic acid from the air sterilizer to fade the color. Don’t worry, I put it back.”
“I’m not worried. Just . . . surprised.”
“Ivar said we’d be safe if we looked like we belonged. I couldn’t do that in what I was wearing. So I used him as a model for the degree of wear.”
He did have the same well-worn aspect as Ivar. And the same vaguely disreputable air, as well. She didn’t know for certain if that would pass muster down on Hydra, but it was certainly a lot more appropriate for the effort than what he’d had on before. “You know, you have the most bizarre skill set of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He looked at the main screen, where a magnified image of Hydra’s core was displayed. “What are you working on?”
“Analysis of the social patterns reflected in the structure. It’s a bit more chaotic than our algorithms usually have to deal with. There’s no single guiding concept behind it.” She turned back to the image and pointed to a place where several walkways converged. “This place is probably near a focus of independent social activity, so a good starting point for us. But it’s hard to be certain.”
“How does it work?”
“What?”
“The algorithm.” He moved closer to get a better look. “You were telling us all sorts of details on the way in, about how the ruling factions interacted with each other, and how that had changed recently. How did you get that from just looking at their ships?”
“Look here.” As she pointed to the screen, the image on it changed; now it showed a close-up view of the main Saito ship. “You see this row of mooring stations on the hull?”
“Yeah.”
“All but two have been shut down.”
“And you know this . . . how?”
“Well, now that we’re close enough, I can see they’ve been permanently sealed. But from farther out, Artemis detected that the airlock readouts on four of them were dark. See? No energy signature.” She pointed to the panels beside the hatches. “Ivar’s friends used to have a lot more visitors than they do now. Now . . . let’s look at what we’re moored to.” The image changed, displaying the saucer-shaped hospitality ship they had docked at. “Six access points around the periphery, all active. Four are slightly different construction than the rest. Those were probably added recently.”
“So Saito redirected their guests . . .”
“Away from their mothership. Visitors probably used to come straight to it. But something has changed now, and Saito no longer feels safe with that arrangement. People have to dock a safe distance away now, where they can be inspected before they’re cleared for access. And—here’s the interesting part—” The image shifted again, to a split-screen display of the other factional motherships. “These all have similar adjustments, at least the ones I can see.” She sat back in her chair. “There’s been a recent shift in the patterns of social interaction surrounding Hydra, that has made the ruling elite more wary of strangers.”
He whistled softly. “That’s . . . amazing . . .”
She waved off the compliment. “Just good software.”
“This is what you do when you find a lost colony? Study the things they’ve built and deduce how they function?”
“Not just what they’ve built. We look at their transportation patterns, communication frequencies . . . if they’ve got satellites we look at the orbits, at what kind of debris surrounds them . . . a thousand and one subtle clues your normal traveler wouldn’t bother to take note of. Individually they’re cryptic, but when you put the puzzle pieces together properly—”