14. The Reckoning #3
"Operative Xax." The voice is smooth. Cultured.
The accent is cosmopolitan — educated across multiple systems, the kind of elocution that money buys when money has been buying things for several generations.
"Or should I say former operative? The distinction is rather new.
I understand congratulations are in order.
Going non-compliant is always such a dramatic step. "
I know this voice. Not personally — by reputation. Varren Drask operates in the space between legal and criminal the way a surgeon operates between organs: precisely, profitably, and with complete disregard for which side of the line the incision falls on.
"Drask." I keep my voice flat. Operational. The weapon casing serves a purpose when the audience is a predator. "Your spoofed kill order has been identified. SRS will trace the encryption breach within hours."
"Will they? That's optimistic. SRS couldn't trace an encrypted transmission through their own systems when I routed it — what confidence do you have they'll trace it out?
" A pause. Amused. "Besides, the kill order served its purpose.
Not the purpose you're imagining. I didn't expect you to actually eliminate the courier.
Your compliance rate is impressive but your recent behaviour suggested a — softening.
I expected exactly what happened. Chaos.
Distraction. A Tier 1 agent more concerned with his crisis of conscience than with the container in his cargo hold. "
The container. In the chaos of the kill order, the fight, the kiss — the container has been in the cargo hold. Untouched. I have not thought about it in hours.
Drask has.
"While you were busy with your existential drama, my secondary team retrieved the manifest data from the Tessaro Foundation's backup servers.
I know what's in the container. I know who wants it.
And I know that you are currently transiting to Junction One at sublight with a Tier 1 agent in your cargo bunk — the knee, I gather, no longer bends — and a woman whose ship is not equipped for what's coming.
" A pause, precisely weighted. "I had Agent Saar's suit feed until your AI found the link and severed it.
The fight made for instructive listening.
I understand the incidental Ms Knight took a blow to the head.
My sympathies. Head wounds are so unpredictable.
" The amusement thins. Beneath it — steel.
"I want the container. My acquisition team docked at Junction One six hours ago.
Berth assignments are public record — I already have yours.
The courier is incidental — the kill order was a tool, not a preference.
Hand over the cargo and I'll withdraw my interest in both of you.
" A beat. "This is not a negotiation, Operative.
It is a courtesy I extend exactly once."
My markings go dark. I feel them do it — the combat chemistry arriving without authorization, my claws cycling once against the console — because he heard the fight.
He heard the tactical weight. He heard her hit the wall, and he has just spent it like currency, and the possessive centers of my brain have stopped processing him as a voice and started processing him as a target.
Flossie does not look at me. Her hand moves two inches across the console — toward me, deliberate, a touch she does not complete. Enough. I lock the claws down.
Flossie leans forward. I watch her face change — the Morrison training surfacing, the warm surface banking to reveal the cold operational intelligence beneath.
"Mr Drask." Her voice is pleasant. Warm.
The tone she used when I boarded her ship and she offered me tea.
The most dangerous register she has. "This is Flossie Knight, the incidental courier.
I have a few questions. First: if the container's contents are known to your secondary team, why do you need the physical item?
Data is reproducible. Objects are not. Which means whatever is in that container has value beyond its information content.
" A beat. "Second: your unnamed buyer. The transaction code in your encrypted file — ten times the container's listed value.
That's not a procurement fee. That's an auction price. You're brokering, not buying."
The silence on the channel stretches. Four seconds. Five.
"You've accessed my comms data." The amusement is gone. "That was in Agent Saar's pursuit craft."
"Agent Saar's pursuit craft is docked to my ship and Sprout cracked your encryption in four seconds. Which leads to my third question: if your encryption is this easy to break, what else have you left lying around that you'd rather people didn't find?"