“There’s an ancient expression I prefer to use in situations like this. No doubt you’re familiar with it?” Aggie Neumeyer leaned all the way back in her office chair and propped her feet up on the edge of her desk. She was employing extreme asshole mode for the benefit of the Septan diplomatic official. “ ‘A lack of planning on your part doesn’t necessitate an emergency on mine.’ ”
The toes of her work boots were scuffed. They clashed somewhat with her office pantsuit. She probably should’ve shined her shoes that morning, or at least earlier this week, but she’d had a lot on her mind. As it happened in this case, the state of her boots emphasized her point. When she’d been a teenager on Ronrel Four, thick rubber soles and laced leather uppers were associated with rage and rebellion. And while time had sanded down the jagged edge of aggression normally afforded the wearer, in conservative circles outside of Ronrel Four—for example, the diplomatic corps of Septa—the association still held.
A younger person couldn’t have gotten away with a similar sartorial choice, but she wasn’t young anymore. Thank the gods.
An uneasy expression passed over her esteemed visitor’s pale, hatchet-nosed countenance like a rapid-moving cloud. An arrogant frown took its place. The undersecretary to the assistant secretary of Septan Diplomatic Affairs had a reputation as a bully. The petulant line between his heavy black brows implied that he was, indeed, used to getting his way.
I’m sure he’s perfectly nice to his family and friends, she thought. It was an expression that her assistant, Cricket, often used when Aggie declared someone an asshole.
Sure he is.
“A Federal Customs inspector has illegally detained a Septan ship! For no reason whatsoever! I demand you release it at once!” The undersecretary pounded the side of his fist on the top of her desk hard enough to cause a coffee cup to clatter against the glass surface.
Apparently, Fen hasn’t warned him about me. Aggie felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. It was petty, but at the moment, she didn’t give a jump rat’s flaming backside. He wasn’t about to push her—certainly not after what she’d discovered.
One hundred sixty-two centimeters tall and forty-five kilograms soaking wet, she’d snatched every advantage she’d come in contact with from the moment she’d understood being short and small-boned meant being underestimated or ignored. Between the two, she preferred being underestimated. The shitheads almost never caught on until it was far too late.
“Is there anything we can do?” asked Fen Singh, the TRW executive secretary. Fen was an old friend, and she knew that Aggie didn’t have jurisdiction over the customs office—that is, not usually and certainly not in this instance—which indicated that Fen had allowed Hatchet Face to push her into a corner. Her presence in Aggie’s office at this moment was a delaying tactic.
Aggie knew exactly what that meant. She wants me to deliver the bad news in case he becomes violent. Ultimately, it was better than calling in security. Certainly better for the undersecretary.
The behavior is the problem, not the person. It was another adage that Cricket, an artificial person well versed in psychology and ethics, had trotted out after one of these confrontations.
The man should’ve treated Fen with more respect. I’m so going to enjoy this.
Fen wasn’t the only person to have an arrangement of this sort with Aggie, but she was one of the few that Aggie backed without reservation.
Fen continued to play the innocent in what was obviously a setup. “You have to understand the undersecretary’s position.” Her serenity belied the statement.
This was a game the two of them had played on numerous occasions.
“Is it his position?” Aggie asked. “Or is it President Phan’s? Or Premier Balakrishnan’s?”
“What do you mean—” Hatchet Face’s complexion acquired a darker tone. The hue produced by blood rushing to his skin’s surface clashed with its greenish undertone, producing a dull, curdled red. His brows pinched together. Combined with the mole on the bridge of his nose, the line drawn there reminded her of an exclamation point.
Aggie felt she could predict the man’s blood pressure even though it wasn’t included in the protocol data projection above his head—discreetly provided by the office AGI. Only Aggie could see the transparent words, which included such things as his name, position, pronouns, and citizenship status. If she were a betting woman, she’d have put credits down on the man’s next utterance being a sputter. Turning her head to glance out the window at just the right moment, she narrowly avoided a face full of spittle particles. Her right ear and her glasstop caught most of the onslaught.
“This—this is outrageous!”
“M.” Aggie paused a beat or two before going on, then spoke to the window. “I’m sorry. What was your name again?” M. Agosti—even if the protocol projection hadn’t existed, Hatchet Face’s name was printed on the temporary security badge hanging from the lanyard around his neck.
“Your people illegally boarded a Septan vessel and seized its cargo! And now, this—this insult! Septa is a planetary member of the Terran Republic of Worlds! You can’t treat us like that!” Agosti moved his bulk to the edge of his borrowed seat. He leaned forward and menaced her glasstop yet again. This time, the assault was conducted with one stocky finger. “I am recommending Premier Balakrishnan file an official protest with President Phan. Directly. I’ll have your head for this!”
Aggie continued to stare out the window and kept her voice low and quiet. “Oh, I very much doubt that.”
Agosti jumped to his feet. From the edge of her perception, it appeared he might be considering yanking her from her chair—a neat trick, given that he’d have to do it over the desk. Aggie almost wanted him to try. He seemed the sort that was unwilling to learn without the accompaniment of pain.
Tugging at Agosti’s sleeve, Fen began the scheduled attempt to placate him. “M. Agosti, please.”
Whirling on the heel of one mirror-shined patent leather dress shoe, Agosti managed a moment of rapid grace in spite of his muscular bulk. It went well with his expensive suit.
Aggie was almost impressed. She waited until he reached the door. “Perhaps you should speak with Premier Balakrishnan’s niece before you charge into the secretary of state’s office with your accusations.”
Her words had the intended effect. Agosti stopped short, as if he were on a leash.
Got you! Aggie thought. “Your ship was stopped in interplanetary space, which is within federal jurisdiction. The flight plan indicated the destination was a moon within the Norton Alliance.” She briefly glanced at her glasstop. “Jargoon is a Norton Independent Alliance world. You are aware of the severe restrictions pertaining to trade with the NIA, of course.”
“Registered travel and trade between Septa and the Norton Alliance is perfectly legal,” M. Agosti said. However, the ghost of a doubt haunted the edge of his outrage. “Those Republic goons had no right to board that ship. It was scheduled to bring thirty metric tons of Harl corn to Beaumont. Now the shipment will be delayed. People will starve. The relationship between Septa and Jargoon will be damaged.”
Aggie nodded. “I’m with you there.”
“You’re blocking a diplomatic gesture that will bridge decades of distrust between the Terran Republic of Worlds and the Norton Independent Alliance—”
“Now, here’s where I have to stop you. Because in this case, it was what was underneath the corn that was the problem: restricted Terran Republic tech and a deactivated Artificial General Intelligence.”
“That’s a lie! It is illegal to transport AGI into the Norton Alliance. Everyone knows this.”
With a few short, graceful gestures, Aggie pulled up the video clip recorded inside the offending vessel’s hold. She paused the footage on a single image and magnified a section, creating a close-up. “Care to try that again?” She studied Agosti’s face. Reading people was a part of her job she was particularly good at—some said it was downright spooky.
And it was why no one invited her to the office poker games anymore.
Agosti was genuinely surprised.
Interesting, Aggie thought. She shifted in her chair and lowered her feet. “You didn’t know about this.”
“Of course I didn’t!”
“That’s unfortunate, M. Agosti.” Aggie rested her forearms on her glasstop and leaned forward. “Because the Council of Artificial Persons isn’t going to respond well to this situation. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were to institute a planetwide labor strike.”
“They wouldn’t—”
“I’m afraid they would. Transporting a deactivated Artificial General Intelligence against their will into a territory openly hostile to synthetic persons is a criminal offense. The repercussions for Septa are likely to be extreme. Depending upon who was responsible—let alone aware—Septa’s membership in the Republic of Worlds could be suspended.”
Agosti’s furious red face paled, and his eyes widened before he blinked. “You can’t mean to—”
“Report this? You’re right. I don’t.” Aggie wiped away the image after a count of three. “Because you will.”
Blessedly, M. Agosti remained silent and composed.
Well done, Aggie thought. Almost makes me believe you weren’t merely given your position just because Premier Balakrishnan is one of your sister’s husbands. “Let me tell you what will happen when you leave my office. You will contact the premier in private and inform him of the situation and his niece’s involvement, assuming he doesn’t already know. Nonetheless, your government will publicly take credit for the discovery and arrest of the guilty parties.”
Blinking, M. Agosti said, “And what will you want in exchange?”
“Premier Balakrishnan’s niece will never again be allowed to own, captain, or crew another deep-space-ready vehicle. In fact, she will no longer be employed in, or involved with, extraplanetary trade. Understood?”
“That’s all?”
Aggie smiled. “You and the premier will simply owe me a favor. I estimate you have approximately thirty minutes before the media pick up the story.”
The undersecretary to the assistant secretary of Septan Diplomatic Affairs exited the office like he’d been scalded. Fen watched him go with a careful expression. The door slammed.
“Aren’t you supposed escort him out of the building?” Aggie asked.
“He knows the way.” Fen assumed the seat that M. Agosti had vacated. “And if he doesn’t, well… I suppose that will give him less time to concoct a convincing story for the press.” She leaned back in the chair. “Thanks, Aggie.”
“Don’t thank me. You’re the one buying dinner.”
“Where do you want to go this time?”
Aggie stared up at the ceiling and considered her options before settling on her favorite. It wasn’t creative, and if she were still a field agent, establishing a pattern of behavior would be dangerous, but she was allowed such luxuries now. “Templeton’s Rest.”
“See you at 18:00.”
“Back booth.” There was still such a thing as recklessness.
“You got it.” Fen paused in the doorway. “Meet at the gym first?”
With a groan, Aggie rolled her eyes.
“Don’t give me that face. You know what your doctor said.”
“Damn it. I should never have told you.”
“I made it easy. Brought a bagful of workout clothes for you. Happy Founder’s Day.”
“What does Founder’s Day have to do with sweating?”
“Absolutely nothing.” Fen’s dimples became more pronounced as she grinned. “Anyway, I hear possessing bones not made of chalk is handy. What are friends for but to keep you alive against your will?”
“Fine. I’ll remember this.”
“I’m counting on it.”
The moment Fen was gone, the projection of a tall, pale woman with long, wavy blonde hair brushed into an updo appeared. Today, Cricket was wearing a powder-blue blouse that complemented her eyes with a stylish black suit. She had once told Aggie that at least one of them should follow the office dress code.
“Well?” Aggie crossed the room to pour the last of the afternoon coffee into her favorite mug. It was late, but she supposed she’d need the energy to get through everything that Fen had in store for her later.
“That was harsh,” Cricket said.
Bitter, hot liquid scorched Aggie’s tongue. Rapidly swallowing, she winced. She didn’t speak until she was sure she hadn’t done the same to the back of her throat. “I followed your advice. I was polite. He’ll get credit for discovering the shipment—or rather, the premier will. His niece will be out of the kidnapping-and-smuggling business, and Septa will look like the good guys. The synthetic person is safe. New TRW technology won’t fall into Norton hands. And the head of council won’t even be required to acknowledge that there was an issue in the first place, let alone cast an unhappy glance in Septa’s direction. Peace maintained, problem solved.”
“You didn’t have to scare him.”
“Oh? Didn’t I?” Aggie said with a wide smile.
Cricket shook her head. “One of these days, someone’s going to pull one of your stunts on you.”
“And when that day comes, I’ll damned well deserve it because I’ll have been sloppy.” Aggie took another cautious sip. “Then I’ll retire into obscurity.”
“You certainly won’t.”
“Oh, I will. Because it’ll be at that point that all the shadow wolves come for my hide.”
“If you say so.” Cricket paused. “There’s one small problem with all this: the famine in Beaumont.”
“They’ll get the corn. Premier Balakrishnan is not an idiot. He’ll need the optics after his niece’s stunt.”
“Nationalism is gaining influence on Jargoon. Four of the seven most powerful countries on that moon have populist regimes. It’ll only gain more momentum the longer the economic situation there continues to falter,” Cricket said.
“As you frequently remind me, Jargoon is Norton’s problem, and Norton is not within my jurisdiction.” Aggie resumed packing up her things for the day.
“Have you heard of Jayne Tau?” Cricket asked.
Pausing, Aggie glanced up from her desk. “Leader of the Tau family. Met her once at an NIA corporate social function. She was a fright. Don’t think I’ve seen that many teeth in a smile since Shark Week at the virtual zoo.”
“What were you doing at an NIA corporate function?”
“I believe this is where I use the phrase former field agent, and you don’t ask any more questions,” Aggie said. “Has something new come up?”
Jayne Tau, formerly Jayne Henderson, had married into the Tau family more than a decade ago. Aggie had always wondered if the match was political—Jayne’s grandfather was Grayson Henderson, the famous leader of the anti-AGI People First movement and one of the most powerful families within the NIA. Jayne’s wife, the eldest Tau daughter, had limited interest in the family business, leaving the road wide-open for Jayne to gain even more influence, climbing to the company’s highest ranks using her married name.
Months ago, Aggie had flagged the entire TCL group, which had consolidated its power structure. They’d done a fair job of burying the bodies, not that they needed to. NIA law enforcement was spotty at best. For the most part, it existed as a facade for corporate power, NIA laws seeming to exist solely to provide employment for corporate lawyers. Mostly, companies sued one another to gain an advantage over rivals. After the reorg, all that was left of Chu and Lane were their names. Within a year, Aggie predicted there wouldn’t even be that much.
It all sounded much more bloodless than it actually was. In the NIA, the more money you had, the less you had to abide by inconvenient ethics and morals.
“Jayne Tau used to be in charge of TCL’s corporate marketing. But now, she’s pioneering a new religious movement on the side,” Cricket said.
“Always had a hunch the two had a little too much in common,” Aggie said. “She must be quite the salesperson.”
“Her followers call themselves the Loved.”
“Good for them.”
Cricket replied, “A fanatic religious movement with access to a fleet of warships could be of concern—particularly if that religious movement were attempting to get its hands on a specific subset of artificial person.”
“You think they’re the end buyer? Why?”
“The Council has been observing certain activities within Norton’s power structures. There have been disturbing indications. For instance, Tau, Chu & Lane have been acquiring components for large-scale electronic storage equipment.”
They’re preparing for war, thought Aggie.
Within the Norton Independent Alliance, the NIA stood for two things: freedom and rugged individualism. From outside the NIA, these looked much in practice like greed, corruption, and hypocrisy.
Aggie paused again. “But Tau, Chu & Lane aren’t based on Jargoon.”
“They are not.”
“Interesting. How long has the Council been monitoring the situation?”
Smiling, Cricket said, “That would be a breach of confidentiality, I’m afraid.”
“Coy isn’t a good look on an artificial person,” Aggie said. “It tends to make humans paranoid.”
“Power dynamics aren’t inherently evil. In fact, it is standard for power to shift back and forth between entities in any beneficial relationship. It is only when a power differential is forced into a static, stable state granting all the power to one group or individual that it evolves into oppression.”
“Did you just quote the Second Law of Moral Dynamics at me?” Aggie asked.
“As your adviser and assistant, I believe it’s a part of my job.”
“Careful. You’re acquiring an overdeveloped sense of cynicism.”
Cricket beamed a sincere smile at her. “Not one bit. I still have faith in you, don’t I?”
“All right,” Aggie said, falling back into her chair. “Anything else I should be aware of?”
Tilting her head to the left, Cricket seemed to focus on the wall behind the desk. An electric-blue light twinkled in her eyes as she accessed the incident lists for the evening. “Local elections on Daithe have concluded. The results will post tomorrow morning, but the statistics indicate there will be no surprises. There’s been an accident involving a Norton-registered starship parked in L-39. There are no details at this juncture. Our agents on board are ten hours late for check-in. I’ve sent an inquiry and will let you know the moment I have the report. Until then, I’ll closely monitor the situation. Several new starships have been approved for exogalaxy exploration. The delegate from the Ttegarratt System arrives tomorrow at Terra Station. Data regarding all atmospheric requirements and dietary and safety issues have been provided by the delegate’s contact team. Security already has a plan in place, but the executive secretary would like you to review it nonetheless.”
More than a decade in the making, the historic meeting was the last step in facilitating the first nonhuman bid for a Terran Republic of Worlds partnership from outside Republic space.
Glancing at the time projection on her desk, Aggie muttered, “Did Fen indicate if that was due before or after the gym?”
“No deadline was given. However, one assumes she intended for—”
“It was a rhetorical question, Cricket.”
“Ah, I see. Shall I continue?”
“Go on.” Unable to delay any longer, Aggie finished preparing to leave for the night.
Cricket resumed reading. “A large-scale protest on Ahlbryn has temporarily halted trade negotiations between Ahlbryn and Terra. Protesters have been invited to submit the details of their objections for review.”
Aggie paused and shook her head. “Their government could’ve saved time by polling public opinion before negotiating.”
When Cricket raised both eyebrows, Aggie motioned for her to continue.
“The industrial markets are responding to the delay with—” The artificial person paused. “I’m sorry. You have an urgent call.”
“This late? I normally would’ve left the office a half hour ago. Who is it?”
“Lavi Chithra.”
“Any indication of what it’s about?”
Again, Cricket tilted her head. “She has marked the communication personal. I see nothing unusual involving Chithra Industrial Crisis Management, but it’s possible that this may involve one of our agents in L-39.”
Because one of those agents is Ri. “Put her on and give me the office.”
“Full privacy mode?”
Aggie indicated that Cricket should listen in just in case the matter needed further discussion, but that there should be no permanent record.
“Yes, ma’am.” And with that, Cricket vanished.
A full-body image of Lavi Chithra took Cricket’s place in the center of the room. Lavi was wearing an elaborate emerald-green sari with a wine-and-gold paisley design along the hem. Her lipstick matched her red lacquered nails. Occasionally, Aggie wondered how long it took Lavi to get dressed in the morning. That hairstyle alone must’ve taken an hour.
Aggie kept her own straight brown hair short in a style that would best be described as boyish.
“Hello, my friend,” Lavi said. Her low-pitched voice was pleasant, cultured, and often ranged between a cat’s purr and a growl. Her smile seemed pinned in place, like one of her sari pleats.
She wants something, Aggie thought. Most of the time, Lavi’s face was impossible to read—even for Aggie, which was saying something, since they’d been good friends for almost forty years. It must be serious, whatever it is. “You’re lucky you caught me. I was supposed to leave a half hour ago.”
“Have I interrupted something important?” The question was casual, almost forced.
That was a bad sign. “Not at all,” Aggie said. “However, I did agree to meet Fen at the gym. Should be there in twenty minutes. If this is something that will cause me to cancel, I’ll be forever in your debt.”
Lavi shook her head and smiled. “Regretting your promise already?”
“Never promised a thing.” Aggie allowed herself a little impatience. “I hate it when you go diplomatic on me. What is it?”
“Very well.” Lavi sighed. “It’s about Gita and… my granddaughter Ri. You remember Ri, don’t you? They’re both in trouble.”
Aggie blinked. “What kind of trouble?” she asked as a delaying tactic. Her stomach clenched around a knot of ice. A forty-something-year-old memory surfaced, spurring her heart rate: forcing her way past terrified passengers on a wrecked starship.
It faded an instant later. She’d somehow swallowed the urge to jump to her feet.
When was the last time I heard from Ri? Three weeks ago? She and Wes are almost half a day late reporting in. Not a good sign. Aggie recalled what Cricket had indicated regarding the situation in L-39. Time to contact Mother on Chimera Station. They’ll know what the fuck is going on. Maybe they can even help. Maybe.
But Mother, pirate queen and one of the few known to operate anywhere near Loki’s Ring, was a frustrating, secretive, and stubborn personality. Takes one to know one, I suppose.
Aggie was fairly certain Mother wasn’t human. On the other hand, it was possible that most of their appearance was an act designed to put off the overly ambitious. That was certainly a tactic Aggie herself would use in their situation. But something about Mother told her they weren’t faking it. Cricket’s opinion was that statistically, the probabilities were high that Mother was at least partly nonhuman. They certainly weren’t from a culture the TRW was already in contact with. Aggie usually wasn’t a fan of striking deals with unknown quantities, but she’d been working with Mother for years. They’d long been a reliable source for information about the Norton Alliance. The time for worrying about that particular metaphorical bedfellow was long past.
Lavi isn’t going to like what little I have to tell her.
“There’s been an accident. A starship that Ri is on is in severe distress. Gita is answering the E-11. I wouldn’t have come to you, except that the ship is in a restricted system and—”
“It’s parked near Loki’s Ring.”
Lavi stopped. Her brows pinched together. “Should I bother asking how you know this?”
“It’s my job to know.”
Lavi’s expression grew sterner. “Ri is working for you. After I specifically told you I didn’t want her involved in your department.”
“Now, hold on.” Aggie stood up. “I didn’t recruit her.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s the truth. Ri came to me. Twice. She begged—”
“You sent her into danger. Into the Norton Independent Alliance. My granddaughter. On a Norton vessel?”
“I sent her to the Council of Artificial Persons.”
“You could’ve given Ri an assignment anywhere—”
“You know how she is. I told her to stay away from Norton. CAP made the recommendation from there. CAP doesn’t give orders. She selected that assignment.”
Lavi scoffed. “You know I understand how things work. Your agents only go where they’re directed. You did this.”
“She followed a lead. On her own.”
In truth, Lavi wasn’t entirely wrong. Agents, even Council agents, didn’t go anywhere without her approval. As far as she knew. But Ri’s case was more complicated. Once Ri had made up her mind to go, Aggie had had only two choices: grant approval and provide assistance or—
You don’t really believe that, Aggie thought. You read that report and approved it anyway.
She was the best fit. I didn’t send her alone. She has a human handler and a recent backup. Ri is as safe as I can make her. As safe as any other agent in a dangerous—
“You should have stopped her!”
“I wanted to,” Aggie muttered.
“How could you do this to me? How? After what happened to Hasik?”
Aggie fought back a sudden, sharp burst of panic. I did everything I could to save Hasik. She knows that.
“You know what they will do if she’s found!”
Holding herself in check, Aggie paused, giving Lavi time to compose herself. The conversation was heading into treacherous territory. She had to be careful. Aggie didn’t want to lose her oldest, closest friend. “Of course I do. Ri knows what she signed up for. Just like every agent.” Aggie took a slow breath before going on. “I did the only thing I could. I made sure the instructors were harder on her than anyone else. The more that was demanded from her, the greater her successes. She’s damned good, Lavi. One of the best.”
Lavi tightened a fist, her nostrils flaring.
“Look,” Aggie said. “I get it. I do. Do you think I send agents into dangerous situations without a thought for them? You know better than that. Particularly for agents who happen to be my best friend’s granddaughter.”
“Of course, I do, but—”
“But nothing.” Aggie sighed. “Ri passed all the examinations and certifications. She had worked with CAP here on L’Enfant Station for months.”
“You should’ve told her not to leave!”
“I did my best to keep her where I could watch over her. Where I could protect her.”
Lavi glared. “And how did that work out for you?”
“Not all that well, I suppose.” Aggie sighed. “Even I have my limits.”
“What does code Carmine 473 mean?”
Aggie felt all the blood drain from her body. Holy shit.
“Tell me what it means.” Lavi used her cold, corporate CEO voice. Aggie now understood why her best friend had a reputation as a ruthless bitch.
“You know I can’t. Where did you hear that?”
Lavi blinked. “It was something that Ri said to Gita when she called for help.”
Tilting her chin down, Aggie stared at Lavi from under her eyebrows. “This is very serious. Did Ri mention anything else? What were her exact words?”
“I didn’t speak to her,” Lavi said. “Gita did. But I recall she mentioned something about accidental contamination and how the crew’s medbots were ineffective.”
Not ineffective. Hacked. Mutated. A long silence stretched out. Aggie couldn’t think of anything else to say. She had no intel she could share. This was the hard part for relatives, waiting in ignorance. Lavi had to trust that Aggie was doing everything possible to get Ri back, without ever knowing the truth about what happened.
Lavi looked like she was on the edge of tears. Placing a hand to her face, she turned away.
“I’m so sorry,” Aggie said. “I truly am.”
With a sniff, Lavi faced her again, her expression now one of resigned acceptance. “I am the one who is sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
“I’ll do everything I can to get her out. Everything. You know that.”
“I do.” Lavi paused. “And in case that isn’t enough… what can I do to help?”
Aggie paused. “I don’t suppose you have a crew anywhere near Lamarr Station or access to a temporary jump terminal or two?”