| |
––––––––
We got through the first three weeks’ training just fine, Tyson, Ax, Alice and me, but I didn’t want to be there. Truth be told, I didn’t know where I wanted to be. Hadn’t got a clue.
If mum’s boyfriend hadn’t had a seriously evil streak, I probably would have made it through my degree, and gone on to do something like, I don’t know, forensic accounting, or an internship in a law firm, or something in computing, or whatever I happened to land in when I was done. I might even have looked at government.
But the world was what it was, and mum’s guy-of-the-moment had been what he was, and mum... well, mum had pretended not to see, and hadn’t known what to do when I tried to raise it.
I’d been left with very few options except to get the hell out. So, I’d got, and I’d snuck onto the Lockyer’s Transport using a load of meat and vegetables as cover, and then the shit had really started rolling.
Since most things roll downhill, I was kinda hoping it was a special kinda shit, and Odyssey was an improvement, and not part of the sewer at the bottom of the slope. A girl can dream, right?
It’s just that I was feeling kinda jaded, and I didn’t want to work for anyone who forced me into the deal. No matter how much trouble their agent had pulled me out of. I kept this in mind as I went through the training schedule.
It helped keep me sane, sane enough to earn my own little mini-computer with its timetable and associated applications and alarms. And I learned. I figured that, since I didn’t know where I wanted to go, or what I was going to do when I got out of here, every skill that came my way could be useful, so I grabbed each and every one—and I owned them, until they were mine. When I finally got myself out from under Odyssey’s great, big thumb, I was going to be one useful mammal.
Maybe I’d even be useful enough that I could earn my own way in the world. Ditch my keepers. Make my own path. Maybe...
I could dream right?
So, I learned. I learned how to dive through data, find a thing not meant to be found, find a way into something that others wanted to keep me out of, and find the value in the data. I also learned how to find a client, and hook them into an Odyssey contract. It took me months, but I’d known it was gonna take me time, when I started.
The foot I’d started off on? I’d known I was gonna have to spend at least a year in Odyssey’s company to earn enough trust to be able to have the tiniest chance of kicking free. And I loved finding things, my favorite thing being people who didn’t want to be found, just because they were usually the baddest of the bad... or because they weren’t and I could get them to Odyssey, and Odyssey could hide them better than they could ever hide alone. For those folk, at least, Odyssey was a safe haven.
I think if Odyssey hadn’t forced me to stay with them, if they’d ever given me the option of coming and going as I pleased, then they might have had the ghost of a chance of keeping me. As it was, they held me close, reminded me I couldn’t leave, and made leaving—and staying out of their hands afterwards—the sole aim of my existence. That, and not getting found out by Ax.
Because Ax was in my face, every waking minute, of every waking hour, of every waking day. Okay, maybe every hour he spent in training, when he wasn’t out falling in love with some of the truly reprehensible lady agents who came planetside to recuperate. I figured one of them would eventually eat him alive, and I’d be out from under, but I used every minute he was distracted to improve my game.
It took me six months to get good enough at finding things, before they started teaching me how to get to the things I found. I learned to open doors, and safes, and how to infiltrate the security systems of ships like the Lockyer’s—and then they started us on the really hard stuff: secure facilities owned by criminals, corporate headquarters of dodgy companies like Bluebirds, or the shuttle controls of personal vehicles for the rich, famous, or seriously reclusive. Once I could open, and operate, those things in my sleep, they increased the PT component.
There was no point, they said, in being able to open a door, if you couldn’t get to it... or get away from it, with what you’d procured. There was no point in finding someone, and setting them free, if you couldn’t help them get away from their captors—and no point in recognizing a really bad piece of work, if you couldn’t outrun, out gun, or out maneuver it.
And when we had all that down pat, they taught us how to dress for the best, and worst, parts of town, and look like we belonged to every sector in between. I did my first data infiltration eighteen months into the course. I was told it was unheard of—but only when I made it out again, and had foxed the target so badly it was chasing sixteen ghosts of so-not-me sixty ways to Sunday.
“You can’t do that,” they said, and then looked at the screen because I was laughing too hard to explain.
Apparently, I could. I sooo could, and there was nothing they could do about it.
Except maybe order me to stop, which they didn’t. Training—and training pay—got augmented with the little jobs I could fit in between—little official jobs, Odyssey-sanctioned or requested—and I took my three keepers with me. I don’t think they appreciated the work, but they really appreciated the pocket money.
We didn’t bond, though. Ax had his femme fatales, and designs on leading combat ops, which was certainly not Alice or me—and Tyson was more direct drive. He liked being ordered around, just not by Ax or me. Alice, though... He was kinda stuck on Alice.
And Alice? Well, she didn’t like me, kept trying to prove I wasn’t as good as they said I was, and didn’t like it when I proved her wrong. Not. My. Problem.
Not yet. Hopefully, not ever. I figured Odyssey would work out we weren’t team-worthy, and fix it. Company wasn’t entirely stupid.
Either way, it came as no surprise that I got to do more of those official Odyssey extras on my own. And the others had things that they disappeared to do without me. We stayed in our suite, but we moved forward on our own.
By then, I kinda liked working for Odyssey. I just didn’t like being made to. Also, by then, I was pretty clear on just how good my chances were of ever breaking free of them, which was kinda like never. And I couldn’t go freelancing, and I couldn’t just take a holiday, and I couldn’t go places where I’d be marked as an Odyssey agent, and I just couldn’t... Two years in, and all I wanted was out.
I wanted a chance to be me, to find out what it was Jocelyn Cutter really liked doing, instead of what Agent Cutter could be doing. For the company. For Odyssey’s sake. Goddamnit! I just wanted to be me... or, at least, to work out who, and what, that was.
Two years, ten days, and sixteen hours in, and I got my chance to get the hell out. And it was my only chance, too. This op? This op was my grad op. When it was done, I’d get my very own Odyssey implant, and I’d never be alone, again.
Odyssey would always be with me, walking every step inside my head. They’d always be able to find me, and I’d never be able to turn them off. Screw that for a joke.
Nope, this was it. My first live op... and, hopefully, my last live op for Odyssey. It was going to be easy, they said. Walk into the chem plant, they said. Steal Canton 82, the super drug, they said, but, for the stars’ sakes, don’t take it; it kills inside thirteen hours, and we haven’t fabricated an antidote, yet. So, I did exactly what they said to do... almost.
I found an intern, and put her in a shipping container. It was all decked out with a stasis pod to call her own, and I sent her to the furthest end of the galaxy without a single shred of ID except what was in her DNA. After that I took her place at the plant.
That was the easy part.
I also found a company that specialized in emergency teleportation, amongst other things. I transferred a large sum of someone else’s money into their account, and had me a beacon and a stand-by team for the four-hour window I thought I’d need.
That was the not-so-easy part.
For the it’s-a-little-tricky part, I hacked the company files, and replaced the data in the intern’s company records with data of my own. At least getting into the facility was as easy as turning up on time for work, and signing on for my first shift—which was when it all went a little bit sideways. The company ran the induction, and the training video, and that’s when I discovered that interns got to assist in drug testing.
And by testing, I mean the interns were the test subjects. We were assured the drugs were already certified safe, that they’d have medical teams on stand-by, and that we’d agreed to such testing in our contracts. Yeah... that clause hadn’t been in the paperwork I’d signed.
Judging from the looks on my fellow-interns’ faces they didn’t recall it, either. But not a one of us complained. For them, this was their first job, their first ‘big break’, and they didn’t want to louse it up. For me, it was just part of the mission, and I hoped the Hell, Odyssey had a contingency plan for if it all went south.
Funny how I ended up in the batch that were doing Canton 82 trials. I tried hard not to think about the coincidence, and even harder not to panic when I saw the guy in charge protesting in the office on the other side of the glass to the lab. I knew that guy. Files said he was the guy who’d designed the damned drug, and he seemed adamant that we couldn’t test it, shouldn’t test it, at least, not yet.
Lip-reading, right? Something Odyssey insist we learn. Sure am glad I did. But I didn’t let on to the dozen others with me. They were busy doing the getting-to-know-you thing, kinda oblivious to the drama going on in the other room, and not real interested in me. Suited me just fine.
What with the delay, and the professor finally settling down, I was able to pretend I needed to pee, and got an escort to the bathroom. They’d left us alone long enough for me to find a couple of empty bottles that looked an awful lot like the ones they kept the 82 in... and I’d already seen what color it was. Yellow, right?
Nice. I got back to the lab, just as they decided it was time for lunch, and we all trotted down to the caf. We ate, and then I slipped back to the lab, wi-fi connected a data-mine to the computer, and got it downloading the research data.
While it did its thing, I jiggered the door to the lab so I could get in, switched the bottles I’d prepared earlier with a couple of bottles of Canton 82—and prayed no-one would notice the difference in shade. Once I got that stowed, I grabbed the data-mine, and headed down to the carpark.
The professor was already there, and he was in a hurry, which suited me just fine, because I was kinda in a hurry, too. He glanced up just as I came alongside him, and then glanced down as I shoved the pistol I’d concealed all day, into his side.
“Move over,” I ordered. “I’ll drive.”
Driving—you bet the Odyssey course had that covered. And I loved it. At least, this time, if I crashed the car, no one would be threatening to take it out of my wage... or my hide.
“You’re one of the girls from the trial, aren’t you?” the professor asked, as he moved over.
I tossed my bag in beside him, before sliding into the driver’s seat. “Yeah.”
He paled.
“Did you... Did they...” He licked his lips, and opened his mouth to try again, but I filled in the gaps for him.
“You mean did I take any of the Canton 82, yet?”
“Well, yes,” he said, and I shook my head.
“Why do you think I’m in such a hurry?” I asked. “I told those guys I wanted out of the trial, and they weren’t happy. Said they’d discuss it, after lunch. I figured it was better I didn’t wait.”
He relaxed at that.
“Good girl,” he said. “although I think we’re both in a very large amount of trouble, now.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because they’re not going to let either of us live,” he said. “Me, because I won’t give the go ahead for the trial, and you, because you don’t want to go ahead with the trial.”
I laughed, and he gave me the funniest look.
“So, it’s a good thing I’m here to offer you a way out, then, isn’t it?” I said, getting the engine started and reversing out of the carpark, while he stared.
“Do tell.”
“Odyssey will hide you,” I told him, “but they’ll want your records of the testing and the trials. Did you keep a back-up?”
I might have siphoned the records from the computer, but any extra data the professor had been keeping on the side was sure to be appreciated. I didn’t tell him about the data-mine in my handbag, or the carefully wrapped bottles... although maybe tossing them into the car hadn’t been my best idea, ever.
I gave an internal shrug. Hopefully they’d survived, or there was enough 82 they could scrape up to do whatever it was they needed. Odyssey would find everything when they found the car, because I wasn’t taking the bag with me.
“Why, no,” he said.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “No extra records of thoughts that came to you in the night?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “We couldn’t ever do anything like that. I kept that kind of thing in my implant.”
In. His. Implant. Oh, dear Lord. THIS. WAS. AWESOME!
I drove as sedately as I could out of the carpark, and then hit the gas as soon as we were a block away from the plant.
“Oh, my,” the professor said. “I say, this is a little swift.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, taking a corner on two wheels, and gunning the engine as I made for the freeway. “We’ll hit the pick-up point in no time.”
I was almost right. We were getting close to the pick-up point, when I saw lights in the rear-view mirror, and the wail of sirens reached my ears.
“Oh, dear,” said the professor.
I turned to him.
“Look,” I said. “I’ll pull over and speak to him. When I get out of the car, I want you to slide on over to my seat, drive to the next off-ramp, and then take the first left. Tell them Cutter sent you.”
He stared at me.
“But they don’t normally let you out of the car,” he said. “They just pull you over and speak to you.”
“Next off-ramp. First left. You got it?” I said.
“Next off-ramp. First left,” he repeated, “but what about you?”
“Tell them I’ll find my own way back.”
“Oh. Okay.” He was silent for a minute, then, just as I began to slow down and pull over, he said, “And can Odyssey really keep me safe?”
I remembered some of the files I’d read, and I didn’t have to lie.
“Yes,” I told him. “Odyssey can keep you safe.”
“Good,” he said, then added, sounding much more confident, “Next off-ramp, first left, Cutter sent me, will find her own way back... Next off-ramp...”
I pulled over, and got out of the car. This was clearly not in the officer’s playbook, because he just sat in his vehicle and looked at me. I gave him a kind of ‘what?’ gesture with my hands and a tilt of my head, and he got out of the car.
“What is wrong with you?” I demanded, as he got closer, and I made my way down the car toward him, hoping he didn’t register the professor making his move into the driver’s seat.
“What is wrong with me?” he shouted back, and I figured it must have been a long day on patrol.
Fantastic.
I snuck a look over at the patrol car, and was relieved when I saw he was the only one in it. Not the safest practice, but some cities just didn’t seem to have the problems... or the awareness, of others. Go figure.
“What is wrong with me?” the officer repeated, like he couldn’t believe I’d said it, and I nodded.
“Yeah, you,” I said. “I mean, here I was driving along and minding my own business and then there you were, all up in my face, flashing your lights all over my ass. I mean what did I do?”
I ended that last on the kind of angsty teenaged wail that some early twenty-year-olds just don’t seem to grow out of, and he stopped.
“Look, miss,” he said. “Do you know how fast you were going?”
“F...f...fast?” I said, faking a tearful sniff, as I raised a hand like I was wiping my eyes, and hoping the professor would make his move, soon.
The cop’s expression softened, became almost sympathetic.
“Yeah, fast,” he said. “You were doing nearly double the speed limit.”
And that was when the professor finally found the accelerator, and took off in a shower of gravel.
“What the...” the officer managed, before I dropped him in the dirt with a well-placed punch to side of the head.
“Sorry,” I said, sinking a boot into his ribs as I went past, and not sounding the least bit repentant.
By the time he recovered from that one, I’d taken his patrol car, and was heading in the opposite direction. Somewhere, in this direction, I remembered seeing the city sewerage ponds. I hit the sirens and the lights, and crossed the freeway until I found the off-ramp. In hindsight, I could have just driven the car over the cliff that bordered the bend some five miles down the road, but I hadn’t researched that far out, so I didn’t know it was there. Either way, driving the stolen police car through the sewerage treatment plant’s fence, and hitting the teleport beacon, as I accelerated toward the nearest pond was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences I’d ever had.
I sure as shit hoped I’d paid them enough to port me out in time.
