And I was one of them.
Oh, sure, I could pretend I was being all noble and righteous and other useless shit. And maybe a teeny, tiny part of me was being all those things. Like so many other people, I had lost someone in the Velorum crash, although mine was a tiny pang of hurt compared to others’ wrenching grief. But I still wanted to avenge the person I had lost, even though I hadn’t seen her in years. Plus, memories of visiting the crash site haunted me. Choked sobs and anguished screams rang in my ears, and the acrid stench of burned metal and fried flesh filled my nose at all hours of the day and night.
But mostly, I was angry, frustrated, and disgusted by the crash cover-up and how no one wanted to fix a small problem and save lives. I was also more than a little pissed about how all the higher-ups, especially Conrad, had dismissed my work and said my conclusions weren’t accurate, when I knew damn well they were. When every single bit of my intelligence and experience and small scraps of magic were screaming that I was right and everyone else was wrong.
As the weeks had passed, and it had become clear that the pilot—who had died in the crash—was going to be the scapegoat, my anger had turned to resolve and then from resolve to action. Through a series of burner email accounts, I had discreetly contacted Celestial Stars, one of the most popular gossipcasts in the galaxy—the same one Tivona and I had watched this morning—and said that I had major dirt on a prominent Regal House. For the right price, of course.
After some haggling, Artemis Swallow, the gossipcast’s head producer, and I had settled on a hefty finder’s fee, half of which was already waiting in an anonymous, untraceable account. I would get the other half as soon as I delivered the information.
That was the theory, anyway. Time to put my plan into action and see if I could get away with it.
I let out a breath, then pulled a microdot drive out of my pocket. Even though it was only about half the size of my thumbnail, the round drive could hold an incredible amount of data. I placed the drive on the terminal keyboard. Then, before I could change my mind, I hit a button and downloaded all the Velorum files.
It only took a few minutes, although it felt like forever to my paranoid brain. After the download was complete, I swapped the first microdot drive out for a second one and downloaded all the files again.
It was shockingly easy and extremely anticlimactic. No alarms blared, no guards sprinted over to my workstation, and none of my coworkers so much as glanced in my direction. A relieved breath escaped my lips. Now on to the slightly harder part: where to hide the drives so that I could get out of the building with at least one of them.
Given the proprietary designs we worked on, all the lab rats were screened from head to toe before being allowed to leave the building. I had been pondering this problem for weeks, coming up with one potential hiding spot after another. A hidden pocket sewn into the lining of my lab coat, a secret compartment hollowed out of a zippered fob dangling from my backpack, an empty locket hanging around my neck. No, no, and no. Clothes, bags, and jewelry were far too obvious hiding places, and I had dismissed all those ideas and a dozen more.
Eventually, I had settled on the old hide-it-in-plain-sight trick. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching me, then took the model of the Velorum cruiser out of my backpack. I cracked it open, nestled the first microdot drive inside the hollow space, and snapped the whole thing shut again. Then I tossed the miniature aside, letting it land among the plastipapers, tools, and other models that littered one corner of my workstation.
The miniature ship was also a rather obvious hiding place, which was why I’d picked it for the first drive. Another feint on my part, although if someone did think to look inside the model, then I was already neck-deep in trouble and well on my way to being dead.
Everyone was still focused on their own work, so I palmed the second microdot drive, got my backpack, and headed into the nearest bathroom. None of the bathrooms was equipped with cameras. Not even the security guards, who were being paid for their vigilance, wanted to see people use the facilities, and it was one small weakness in Kent Corp’s excellent security protocols.
The bathroom was empty, so I went into one of the stalls and shut the door. Then I put the toilet lid down, set my backpack on it, and pulled out a vial of clear liquid glue. Next, I grabbed a bottle of silver nail polish, along with two blue plastic jewels shaped like eyes.
A couple of weeks ago, Tivona had put jeweled stickers on her nails before going out clubbing, and in that aha! moment, I’d realized I could do the same thing with the microdot drive. And thus, my problem of how to smuggle the Velorum files out of the Kent Corp building had seemingly been solved.
Early this morning, I’d painted all my nails with the silver polish except for my left thumb. Now I crouched down, laid my hand flat on the toilet lid, and placed the microdot drive in the center of my left thumbnail. Then I stuck one of the plastic eye-shaped jewels on top of it, hiding and encasing the drive. The glue went on next to shellac the whole thing to my thumbnail and then finally a smear of the silver polish.
I also stuck the other eye jewel onto my right thumbnail so that it matched the left one. Then I examined both thumbs, along with the rest of my fingers. Mine was not the best or most professional manicure, but it should work well enough for my nefarious purposes. All I had to do was get out of the building with my left thumb still attached to the rest of my body.
A simple enough task . . . I hoped.
I blew on my thumb to dry the glue and the polish, then stuffed my supplies into my backpack, opened the stall door, and headed over to a counter. I set my bag down, then leaned forward and stared at my reflection in the mirror.
My wavy dark brown hair just brushed the tops of my shoulders, a bit frizzier than usual, due to the recent spring rains and humidity. My dark blue eyes seemed bigger and brighter than normal in my pale face, but I didn’t bother powdering my nose or swiping on some lipstick. Today was the one day when I wanted—needed—to blend in with the rest of the lab rats.
But I couldn’t stay in here forever, so I grabbed my backpack and left the bathroom. As the door swung shut behind me, I thought about the other thing I’d seen in the mirror—a faint silver glow around my body, almost as if my magic was trying to warn me how much danger I was in.
As if I didn’t already know.
I returned to my workstation and set my backpack down. I was just reaching for my stool when Hal walked up to me.
“Let’s go.” He jerked his head. “You’re wanted upstairs. The meeting about the final Velorum crash report.”
The meeting had been scheduled for more than a week, but I still eyed the mercenary, wariness surging through me. Hal looked right back at me, and his gaze didn’t flick over to the Velorum model on my workstation or fixate on my left thumb. Since my secrets seemed to be safe, I followed him out of the lab.
A couple of other lab rats were waiting in the corridor, and we all stepped into an elevator. No one said a word as the elevator whooshed up like a rocket and floated to a stop at the hundredth—and top—floor.
Hal grinned, then swept his hand out to the side. “After you, Vesper.”
Even though I knew he was going to leer at my ass again, I had no choice but to step out of the elevator and follow the other lab rats into an enormous conference room. One entire wall was made of glass, revealing an impressive view of the green campus below, along with the neighboring skyscrapers.