Chapter 3 #2
Binwee's expression didn't change, but I caught what looked like approval in her eyes.
"The cuddwisg is working well. You look like an Ulkommenian female.
" She gestured to the speeder. "We should move.
Standing in the open is inadvisable. If we're stopped, we claim to be foraging herbs for the kitchens. "
I approached the vehicle, trying not to stare. Binwee was so small, so alien, and yet something about her reminded me of the best cops I'd worked with, that sense of absolute competence, of someone who knew exactly what they were doing and didn't waste time on bullshit.
"Have you ridden a speeder before?" she asked.
"No. We have motorcycles on Earth, but nothing like this."
"Sit beside me. Hold the grips on either side of the seat. Don't lean too far in any direction or you'll throw off our balance." She climbed onto the speeder with practiced ease, settling into the front position.
I clambered onto the seat, feeling awkward and oversized compared to Binwee's compact form. The seat was wider than I'd expected, designed to accommodate different species, and the grips she'd mentioned fell right where my hands naturally rested.
"Ready?" Binwee asked.
"Ready."
The speeder lifted smoothly, rising another foot off the ground, and then we were moving. Not fast at first, just a steady glide across the scrubland. The sensation was bizarre, like riding a motorcycle without the rumble of an engine or the feel of wheels on pavement. Just smooth, silent movement.
After a few minutes, Binwee slowed and brought us to a stop in a small depression between two rocky outcroppings. We were hidden from casual view but had clear sightlines in multiple directions.
She dismounted and I followed, my legs still adjusting to the strange gravity.
"We'll review the plan here." Binwee pulled out a small device that projected a holographic map into the air between us.
"The kitchen entrance is here." She pointed to a spot on the projection.
"I've been working there for almost two months.
Staff turnover is high. The Ulkommenians who run the facility don't bother tracking individual workers as long as the food keeps coming.
You'll pose as new kitchen help. Keep your head down, do the work, don't draw attention. "
I studied the map, my detective's mind automatically cataloging details. "What's the security like?"
"Heavy around the pit arena and the holding cells. Lighter in the service areas. They don't expect threats from kitchen staff." Binwee's expression was grim. "They should. But their arrogance works in our favor."
"When do we observe the Negita?"
"Tomorrow, during the evening shift. He oversees the feeding schedule for the pit fighters." Binwee collapsed the holographic map and tucked the device away. "You'll have approximately thirty minutes to watch him interact with the staff and prisoners."
Thirty minutes.
I'd worked undercover operations where I'd had weeks to study a target's mannerisms, their speech patterns, the way they moved and gestured. Thirty minutes felt impossibly short, barely enough time to memorize a face, let alone inhabit one.
But it would have to be enough.
"I know it's not a lot." Binwee's eyes met mine. "That's why I've been documenting his patterns for the past week." She pulled out another device, this one displaying video footage. "Watch."
The hologram flickered to life, showing a slender figure about my height: the Negita.
My stomach dropped the moment I saw his face.
He looked like a rat.
He had the elongated snout typical of his species, small dark eyes set close together, front teeth that protruded slightly even when his mouth was closed. His movements were quick and twitchy.
I watched him work through the footage, cataloging details the way I'd been trained. His gait. The way he gestured when giving orders. How he positioned himself relative to the guards. His tail, thin and hairless, curled slightly when he was pleased and straightened when he was agitated.
Useful tells. The kind of thing that would help me mimic his mannerisms.
My jaw clenched anyway.
Growing up in New York, rats had been everywhere.
In the walls of our apartment building, scratching behind the drywall at night.
In the alley behind the bodega where I bought my morning coffee.
I'd watched them scatter across subway platforms, bold as anything, not even bothered by the crowds.
Once, when I was twelve, I woke up to find one sitting on my dresser, its beady eyes reflecting the streetlight from outside.
My mom laughed when I screamed. "They're more afraid of you than you are of them."
She was wrong.
Those fuckers weren't afraid of anything.
But that was then. This was now. And I didn't survive in this place by letting old fears control me.
I forced myself to keep watching the footage, to push past the visceral disgust crawling up my spine. The Negita's whiskers twitched when he was thinking. When he was angry, his fur bristled along his spine.
"You okay?" Binwee asked, catching my expression.
"Fine," I lied. "Just taking it all in."
I had to stay professional. This wasn't about my childhood trauma or the countless times I'd chased rats out of crime scenes with a broom. This was about Enslak. About the mission.
But Christ, did it have to be a rat?
I watched the footage three more times, forcing myself to absorb every detail. The way he clasped his hands behind his back when he walked. The slight hitch in his gait, an old injury maybe. How he touched his collar absently when lost in thought.
"Does he have any verbal tics?" I asked.
"He clicks his tongue when he's annoyed. And he calls everyone 'worker,' never by name." Binwee paused the footage. "He's been doing this job for years. He's bored, just going through the motions. That works in our favor. Bored people don't pay close attention."
I nodded, still studying the frozen image.
This was what I'd been trained for, not just the physical transformation, but the complete assumption of another identity. Every detective who worked undercover learned to blend in, to become invisible. This was the same skill, just pushed to its extreme.
"I'll need to hear his voice," I said. "The modulator changes my vocal cords, but I need to know his cadence, his inflection."
"Tomorrow," Binwee promised. "After the pit fights. There's an alcove in the service corridor where we can watch without being seen. You'll need to memorize his routine exactly, every movement, every gesture."
I nodded. "And after we observe him?"
"We track him to his quarters. Wait for him to sleep. Incapacitate him." Binwee's voice was matter-of-fact, as if she were describing how to make coffee. "Then you take his place the next day."
"The collar removal," I said. "How much time will I have?"
"Fifteen minutes. Maybe less. The guards leave Zarlak alone while he deals with Enslak, but if you take too long, this whole thing could blow up in our faces.
The moment you enter Enslak's cell, the clock starts.
Remove the collar, get him mobile, get him to the sewers.
" She expanded the holographic map, revealing a complex network of tunnels beneath the facility.
"I've mapped the route. About an hour to the rendezvous point outside the city, assuming we don't run into resistance. "
"And if we do?"
Binwee's smile was sharp. "Then we deal with it. I didn't survive in this place by being unprepared."
I studied the map, the facility layout, the escape route, the dozens of things that could go wrong. My mind was already cataloging contingencies, backup plans for the backup plans.
"Questions?" Binwee asked.
"The collar," I said. "If I make a mistake—"
It wasn't really a question. I knew what would happen.
Boom.
"You won't." Her voice was firm. "You've trained for this. You know the procedure. Trust your training."
I wanted to. God, I wanted to.
But the weight pressed down on me, the knowledge that one wrong move would kill both me and Enslak, that the Prime would lose her son again, that I'd fail everyone counting on me.
"Niki." Binwee's voice softened. "Fear is natural. It keeps you sharp. But don't let it paralyze you. You were chosen for this mission because you're capable. Chloe vouched for you. The Prime herself believes in you."
I took a deep breath, feeling it fill my lungs, feeling the alien air that had become my oxygen. "I won't let them down."
"I know." Binwee deactivated the holographic map. "Now we need to move. The kitchen shift starts in two hours, and you need to be in position."
I climbed back onto the speeder, my hands finding the grips, my body already adjusting to the strange sensation of hovering movement.
As we glided toward the city and the facility holding Enslak, the fear still sat in my chest like a stone.
But underneath it, stronger than it, was something else.
Purpose. Determination. The same thing that had made me chase that drug dealer through Hell's Kitchen.
The same thing that had made me become a cop in the first place.
I was going to save him.
Whatever it took.
The city grew larger ahead of us, and I didn't look away.