They needed Shane to be in a state of mind where he wouldn’t be thinking about how much he should tell them, or why they were asking him particular questions. And it wouldn’t hurt if his memory of their conversation turned foggy later, which enough alcohol would encourage. Until Ru and Micah could identify Shenshido’s mysterious adversary and figure out if anyone on this station was controlled by him, asking too many questions could be dangerous.
As their second pitcher was removed from the table and a third one delivered, Micah finally decided that Shane was as well prepped for their purposes as he was going to be. He poured one last round for everyone—less in his glass and Ru’s, as always—leaned back in his chair, and said, “Tell us about this Oracle.”
Shane shrugged. “Not much to tell.” He reached for his glass. “She has visions. Some people say she knows everyone’s secrets. Some people say she’s just fucking crazy. I don’t set much stock in that kind of shit. Prefer the physical world.” He winked suggestively at Ru. “Don’t you?”
Ru smiled, neither responding to his flirtation nor discouraging it. Three pitchers of beer had made it clear the former wasn’t necessary. “We heard she had quite a large following.”
He drank deeply from his glass. “Yeah. She does now.”
“That’s recent?” Her tone was still casual, but in the depths of her eyes a new alertness had sparked. She touched a hand to Shane’s shoulder—just a fleeting touch, the kind of thing a woman might do in conversation without even thinking, that a man might read all sort of things into—and smiled at him. It was very sweet. And very predatory.
We are hunters, he thought. We have stalked our prey and cornered him, and now, when he is off his guard, we move in for the kill together. It wasn’t the kind of experience he’d ever shared with a woman before, outside of a game, and it stirred Micah’s blood in a way he wasn’t accustomed to.
“When she first got here she was mostly a novelty act,” Shane told her. “I don’t think too many people took her seriously. But Hydra is where people come to wind down, and the more entertainment options there are, the better. There are only so many whores you can fuck, y’know?”
“But now?” Micah pressed.
He snorted. “She virtually runs the fucking place. Oh, no one’ll say that out loud, God forbid. But the patroni look to her for guidance, and sometimes after they get it they change their plans—canceling raids, financing new projects, maybe hiring or firing people. Her power may be indirect, but it’s real. She has the big seven wrapped around her little finger. A woman.” He snorted again, wiped his nose with his arm, and took another long swig. “Who’da thought?”
“When did all this happen?” Ru asked. “The change?”
His eyes glazed over as he tried to think past the alcohol. “Dunno. Two, maybe three years ago?”
A chill ran up Micah’s spine. He tried to keep his expression impassive, so that Shane wouldn’t realize the impact of what he’d just said, but it was hard. When he glanced at Ru, she appeared to be fighting a similar impulse. “Two years,” she said quietly, more for Micah’s benefit than Shane’s. He understood. Two years ago was when the raid on Shenshido had taken place. It was when Ivar had been imprisoned there. When the madness had begun to spread. And apparently, just before that, a psychic performer who had been of little consequence to anyone suddenly became a major player. A puppeteer, who manipulated powerful people to accomplish her ends. The timing couldn’t be coincidence. The Oracle might not be the person who had designed Shenshido’s malware—given her mystical bent, it seemed unlikely she was also a master programmer—but Micah was willing to bet she knew who was.
Shane had emptied his glass. Ru took up the pitcher and refilled it. “What about the labyrinth? We heard some people experience delusions there.”
“Could be. The place itself isn’t a mystery. Hell, you can download a map of it from the innernet. But people who brave its innermost tunnels tend to not come out, and those that do . . . don’t talk about it later.” He took another drink. “They don’t talk about much of anything.”
“Meaning what?” Micah asked.
In answer, he tapped the side of his head and rolled his eyes.
They go mad. Yet another puzzle piece was fitting into place. But the overall picture was still a mystery. How was a psychic tied in to all this? It was torture not being able to discuss the possibilities with Ru.
Shane started to raise his glass again, but the drink slipped out of his hand and fell to the table. Beer sloshed everywhere. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” He started to pat at the spill with the end of his shirt, then rubbed his arm across it to absorb it with his sleeve, making it ten times worse. Micah pushed back from the table so beer wouldn’t drip into his lap. It was clear that Shane wasn’t going to be of use to them much longer, but that was all right. He’d already given them the one piece of information they needed most, that Shenshido’s malware was somehow linked to this Oracle. She might not be the orchestrator of those events, but Micah was convinced she knew who was. “If we wanted to find out more about this Oracle, how would we do that?”
“Well, you could ask for an audience. She’ll expect some kind of offering.”
“Like what?” Ru asked.
He shrugged. “Something of value. The more unusual, the better. But she’ll take money if that’s all you’ve got. What matters is that it be a gesture of respect.”
Like one would make to a god, Micah thought darkly. Is that how she sees herself? “If we wanted to find out more about her—before seeking an audience—who would we talk to?”
Shane hesitated. “I know someone, but . . . I’m not sure he’d want his name given out.”
“We won’t make it public,” Ru promised. “It’s just for us. So we can figure out what the best kind of offering would be.” She ran a fingertip down his arm. “Please?” They’d spent an hour plying him with enough beer to drown out his critical functions. Micah held his breath, wondering if it would be enough.
“Ben Caruso,” he said at last. “Doesn’t hang out on the rock much. Prefers his own ship.”
“How can we find him?”
“Works for Cassini. Head over to the Trident and ask them.” He belched. “They’re drug lords, you know. Suppliers of Venom-X and Viper. Nasty shit. You don’t want to fuck with them.”
“We don’t intend to,” Ru assured him.
He closed his eyes for a moment. “I think maybe you should . . . I mean . . . I’m sorry.” He belched, then laughed. “Drank that one a bit too fast. God, you’re hot, woman.” He shook his head, then belched again. “Stomach’s doing somersaults . . .”