“What?”
Raven looked past me and waved to our waitress for another round of drinks.
“She told the Operator she saw something in you,” she said, taking my hand and looking into my eyes. “I have to admit, Tycho, I see it too.”
5
When I woke the next morning, my head felt like it was trapped in a vise with my brains pouring out of my ears. I opened my eyes slightly and winced away from the painful light of the sun. A moment later, the light grew stronger and more painful as someone threw open the curtains in my room.
“Please stop,” I groaned.
“I gave you the night off, Tycho, not the next day.” Andrea Capanelli’s voice sounded vaguely amused, but fully unsympathetic.
“What time is it?”
“That doesn’t really matter, does it? Come on, there’s coffee.”
“Coffee isn’t going to fix this hangover, Andrea. Just execute me now. Throw my body in some alley somewhere. I won’t hold it against you.”
“Have a shower first, you’ll feel better for it. Then come eat. Thomas is eager to share what he learned with us.”
“Thomas. Right. Great start to the day.”
Andrea laughed. “Fifteen minutes, Barrett.” Her voice trailed off as she went back out into the living room. “Timer’s started.”
I stared at the ceiling. My eyes burned and the world spun, but eventually I managed to get my feet beneath me. Ten minutes later, I shuffled over to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee, while Jones grinned at me from the living room couch. Raven Sommer, of course, looked fresh and cheerful. “Morning, Tycho!” she called out, a slight smirk on her face.
“Perk up, Barrett,” Veraldi ordered. He was cooking eggs. “Take a plate. I have breakfast for you.”
I pulled a plate from the kitchen cabinet and held it out in front of me while sipping my coffee. My stomach growled when I smelled the eggs, so maybe my body still had some life in it.
“Thanks, Veraldi.”
“That’s a three-egg omelet with Gouda and Muenster, so show it some respect.”
“Yes, sir.” I half-saluted with my cup as I turned and walked back to the living room. I took a seat on an empty chair and put my plate down on an ottoman. From the empty mugs and half-empty glasses here and there, it seemed everyone else had already eaten.
Andrea came back out of her room. “Tycho. I’m glad you could finally join us.”
“Mmm.” I took a bite of the omelet. Sausages, mushrooms, and onions. I didn’t know why, but until then I had assumed it wouldn’t be very good.
Seeing that I wasn’t going to give her any more of a response than that, Andrea went to Thomas’s door and knocked. “Thomas? We’re ready for you.” He made some reply, but I couldn’t hear what it was. I wasn’t really paying attention. The only thing I cared about at that moment was getting enough coffee and omelet into my body so that I could come back to life and do my job, whatever that turned out to be.
“He’ll be out in a minute,” Andrea told the room, sitting down next to me. “Did you two have fun last night?”
“Nothing but fun,” said Raven. “Tycho here is a beast.”
Andrea threw me a skeptical look. “A beast, huh? He looks more like a sick dog right about now.”
“The natural consequence.” Veraldi came into the room with a plate for himself. “How’s the omelet, Barrett?”
“Mmm.”
Jones laughed. “It’s a good thing Tycho doesn’t have to present anything.”
“He’ll be fine,” Andrea told him. “He just needs caffeine and hydration.”
“That reminds me…” I picked up my coffee and downed almost half of it in one long swallow.
Thomas Young came out of his room as I returned to my omelet. He wasn’t carrying any notes this time, and he wasn’t acting like he didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. His face was serious, though that was typical if he wasn’t glowering at someone or something. “Ready, Capanelli?”
She looked up. “Ready when you are, Thomas. Did you remember your notes this time?”
“I don’t need them. If you’re ready, I’ll start. I see Veraldi and Barrett are still eating.”
She waved her hand in my direction as if to dismiss me. “Don’t worry about that. Tycho has a hangover and Veraldi cooked. I’m sure they can both give you their full attention.”
He frowned. “Very well. I will make my report, and if either of them is unable to recall a detail, they can always ask you later.”
Veraldi raised his mug in salute, then had a sip.
“I was right to think that those components were what I needed to read Huxley’s storage banks,” said Thomas. “I have now recovered a substantial portion of Huxley’s memory.”
“Is it just me,” asked Jones, “or is there something really creepy about all this?”
Raven cocked her head to the side. “Reading an android’s memory is creepy?”
“He wasn’t just an android.” Veraldi put his plate down on the table and pushed it away from him. “He was a man, once.”
“Yes, but still.” She shrugged. “It’s really just reading an android’s long-term storage banks. Right, Thomas?”
“Not quite, I’m afraid. Not at all. The complexity of this android’s storage banks is much, much greater than anything you may be familiar with. Huxley Industries was producing androids far in advance of what other companies would describe as cutting edge.”
“As interesting as that may be,” said Andrea, “let’s focus on the main point here. You’ve recovered Huxley’s memories?”
“I haven’t recovered all of them, but I have recovered a substantial portion of his recent memories.”
“So, what are we talking about exactly?” asked Andrew. “Grocery lists? Girlfriend’s summer home?”
Thomas was not amused by that comment. “Not at all, Jones. If that’s the sort of information that interests you, you’ll have to examine the data yourself. I do have to warn you, though, that there has been significant damage to the data banks. You may be searching for quite some time before—”
“Easy there, Young,” Veraldi warned him. “Jones was only being a dick. What did you find?”
Andrew shrugged, as if to say, who, me?
Thomas drew himself up and recited what he had for us in a clipped voice. “I have identified information suggesting a private ship currently docked on Llyr Station, Europa is a target of interest.”
“A private ship?” asked Andrea. “So a yacht? A pleasure vessel?”
“Not exactly, although I suppose it could function as one. Based on what I’ve seen in Huxley’s memories, I would describe it more as a business vessel, though it doesn’t seem to have been associated with any of the legitimate business interests of any of the people to have used it.”
“You’re talking in riddles, now,” Jones grumbled.
Thomas threw him an irritated look. “Only if you insist on interpreting everything in simplistic terms. The ship is registered, via shell corporation, to David Kote.”