Chapter 11
Arco raised her voice to be heard over the rented flitter’s engine. “We’re confirmed and expected.” The flitter’s windows showed a graceful cityscape all around them.
She tapped her new earwire to quiet it, then folded her tablet and maneuvered it through the seat’s safety web into the inner chest pocket of her coat. Brenner’s newest equipment request had been better earwires with state-of-the-art security features.
Arco had introduced him to the new team members as her personal security chief. He hadn’t blinked an eye, but she later realized she should have asked him first. After that, she’d increased his contract pay, which she now realized she hadn’t told him about, either. She tanked at being a boss.
He’d appointed himself pilot for the flight. Now he used the flitter’s console to query the Arazak traffic control system. They would be on time if the system’s estimate for their arrival was accurate.
N’Dwama, one of her three new security guards, rotated the realtime holodisplay of traffic and obstacles.
Her skin was darker and cooler-toned than Brenner’s, and colorful gemstone threading kept her silvery hair close to her scalp.
She had no family, and said she’d moved to Ridderth a year ago for personal reasons. Arco sensed some heartache there.
According to her records, she was a low-level telekinetic and mid-level sifter with twenty years of corporate security experience for a private company on Mabingion’s smaller continent to the northeast. For fun, she flew in planetary races.
“Scans are reporting swarms of uncontrolled traffic. Too slow for speeders, too erratic for autofreight. Students on airsleds, probably.”
Brenner nodded. Arco found herself watching him for clues as to what he was thinking. Each time he initiated a private conversation with her, she expected him to resign. He hadn’t done it yet, but it had only been four days since his unasked-for promotion.
She was afraid to ask if he was staying on the job, in case he took it the wrong way. She valued him immensely.
Maybe she was warped — probably was, in fact — but her trust in him had grown each time she’d visited him at the rehab center.
Davidro’s journals said he killed easily and with pleasure, but Davidro lied a lot, especially about himself.
Brenner could have destroyed her or any of the medics with a flick of talent.
That he hadn’t, even when the pain was unbearable, spoke volumes to her.
Tōn Ko sat to her left, angled so he could stretch out his long legs.
He was a young, blazingly quick ramper and shielder.
Green was his favorite color, reflected in the gold-green tint of his skin and his leaf-colored and styled hair.
He also favored tight clothes that accentuated his trim and toned physique, suggesting he liked the attention.
His accent hinted at Mandarin as his first language.
He’d said he grew up in a wealthy canton of Nyar Solla, a huge equatorial megacity on the other side of the planet.
Arco gathered his conservative family had cut him off entirely when he refused to renounce his minder talents.
She cynically wondered if they’d also asked him to renounce being left-handed or mechanically inclined.
Arco’s third new guard had taken an earlier commercial flight. She was already at their CPS Institute neighborhood destination, scouting ahead. Tōn Ko stayed in live contact with her.
Arco was thrilled to finally have enough security staff so she could safely leave the city of Ridderth. Her finder sense had been nagging her about a story idea the entire time she’d been grounded. It had been sparked by a tip from one of her fans about newly uncovered CPS medical data.
Anonymously-sourced, leaked data was highly suspect, especially if it involved profit or served an agenda. The minder health data definitely fit the latter category. In the beginning, the CPS had believably repudiated it all as a criminal counterfeit designed to impede Minder Corps effectiveness.
That changed when dogged journalists and data divers throughout the galaxy had begun tracking down obscure but publicly available government medical statistics and CPS reports that corroborated the leaked data, at least in broad trends.
The CPS couldn’t very well claim that data was counterfeit, too, unless they’d been faking their own internal and official reports for the last half century.
Lately, the CPS’s responses to requests for comments ranged from rehearsed sidesteps to threats to charge the questioner with galactic sedition.
Which was why Arazak topped her list of places to go. Four years ago, and for another story entirely, she’d developed a deep background source in Professor Marda Olavskaya at the CPS Academy and Institute. The smaller city was north of Ridderth, only a few hours away by fast flitter.
Before becoming a teacher, Olavskaya’s prior assignments in the CPS had included a variety of Minder Corps administrative assignments.
She’d been cagey and careful with her words, but had helped Arco understand how the vast and multi-missioned CPS was organized, how it reconciled mission conflicts, and its tangled relationships with its own military bosses and pharma company partners.
Olavskaya had since retired for health reasons. Arco hoped to get useful information on CPS internal data collection and reporting procedures. It would help her figure out which newly public CPS data to trust and which to question.
The professor had agreed to meet, but only in person. Arco had acquiesced in part because she imagined the woman was lonely. Not seeing students or colleagues every day would take some getting used to.
Olavskaya’s flat turned out to be an entire floor of a rounded high-rise in a tight group of similar buildings. The homogeneous shapes and trendy architectural style made them look like a giant apiary, with flitters as occupants instead of bees.
Minan, the third new guard, met them on the building’s roof. She’d rented a three-seater airsled, giving her the freedom to fly and land wherever she wanted without having to use the city’s traffic control system. The TCS might get in the way of a quick exit.
Minan wasn’t much taller than Arco, and cultivated a nondescript mixed-heritage look that made her unmemorable in a crowd.
She collected unique words from all languages and pre-flight sports memorabilia, and seemed to have friends rather than lovers and no family.
Though she’d been in the security business for seventy years, she’d only recently begun admitting she was a ramper.
Mandatory minder registration ended decades ago, but prejudice hadn’t.
Minan tilted her head toward the compact stacker where they’d just stored their flitter.
“Building entry is on the far side. The TCS predicts a thirty-minute traffic surge for business shifts starting in about ninety minutes.” Minan’s tech implant, a legacy of military service when she was younger, enabled her to jack into tech and interface directly with public systems. Her planet-wide security license gave her the keys.
She turned to Brenner. “Where do you want me?”
Brenner eyed the bright, cloudless sky. Despite the approaching winter and the more northern latitude, Arazak was both drier and warmer than Ridderth. “Up here with the transports. Stay live with Tōn Ko and N’Dwama and monitor the net. I’ll be with her.” He pointed a thumb toward Arco.
Minan nodded. “Copy.”
At the building’s lift, Arco waited until Brenner gave her the signal to ping the professor that they were waiting on her doorstep. A minute later, the doors irised open to reveal a spacious, padded capsule, big enough to easily hold twenty people and their pets.
After a fast ride to the professor’s floor, the capsule released them into an entryway decorated with subtle gold and red accents. Pre-flight classical music played in the background. Arco had heard the deceptively simple piece before but didn’t know the composer.
Olavskaya’s husky voice spoke clearly from the intricate metal sculpture of a tree that took up one corner of the hall. “Your people can come in, but not with their weapons.”
Brenner glowered at the tree, then at Arco.
Arco smiled, assuming they were on holo. “Can two of them stay out here with their weapons?” asked Arco. “They worry.”
“That is acceptable.”
By the time Brenner handed N’Dwama his phaseknife, the double doors opposite the lift irised open. Olavskaya backed into the room slowly, dragging a short bench.
Tōn Ko stepped in to help her. “Where do you want this?”
She let him take it. “It’s for you. Put it where you like.” She sounded out of breath.
Olavskaya ushered Arco and Brenner into her elegant flat. It looked like an immersive exhibit of furniture and paintings from the same preflight era that had produced the classical music. Spare and graceful, with muted tones enhanced by carefully chosen, well-placed bright ornamentation.
Olavskaya herself dressed in gauzy clothes and arranged her dark hair to match. The style was well-suited to her long, thin limbs.
“Your home is truly stunning,” said Arco, meaning it. She imagined each piece had been lovingly collected.
Olavskaya beamed. “It is not to everyone’s taste, but it is to mine.” Hints of a Slavic accent sharpened her consonants.
She led them to a grouping of chairs. An antique cart offered slender carafes and small plates of miniature savories and sweets. “We will sit here.”
Arco introduced Brenner as her security. After eyeing the room’s entrances, he positioned himself to stand between Arco and the flat’s front doors.
The rich pastries called to her empty stomach, but she ignored them in favor of pulling out her tablet as she sat and noted the time. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to me again. May I record our discussion, or would you prefer I take notes?”