WARP world (55 page)

“I can do it!” Seg argued but the slump of his shoulders spoke otherwise. He stood, wiped a hand across his face, and took Ama’s place in the frantic pacing

“And you will fall on your face when that fails,” Jarin said, “and destroy all remaining credibility you possess. You will be removed from the raid again, of your own doing. You need the first-hand data.”

Seg rapped his knuckles on the back of the chair in which he had sat moments before. “The Guild Recorders. Simply suborn one of the Recorders and have them bring the data out.”

Jarin shook his head. “Two complications there. First, the Recorders have to surrender all documentation to the safekeeping of the House Accountancy prior to exiting each day. Secondly, one of them is Fi Costk’s man.”

“What?” Seg’s eyes widened and he leaned toward Jarin, “You know this and you haven’t done anything about it? Why is the Recorder still alive?”

“Segkel, if you have an agent identified in your ranks, you can eliminate him and wonder who will take his place, or you can use him to feed false information to your enemy. Which would be preferable?”

Seg frowned, then nodded sharply and resumed pacing. “The CWA are making a move to cut the Guild away from our function. That is the work they were trying to offer me–their own Theorist division.”

Jarin coughed. “Yes, Fi Costk has been trying to implement that for some time now. It will fail. Again. But this move does have critical ramifications. As for the Recorders—” he shook his head. “This brings us to another impediment engineered by Director Fi Costk. He knows we need raw data from the inside, which I, as an observer, do not have clearance to obtain and you will not have clearance for until this matter with Lieutenant Kerbin is cleared up. Even if the Lieutenant retracts her complaint today, there are any number of means by which the CWA can sabotage your return in the next five days.”

“Let them, the raid won’t launch for two weeks, I can be ready,” Seg said, his hands clenching and unclenching.

“No,” Jarin said, the word thudding from his mouth. “Director Fi Costk has pushed the timetable. The raid will launch in seven days. As I explained, he has foreseen your moves. And mine.”

Seg opened his mouth and closed it, several times in succession, then sat again, sinking into the chair as if willing himself to disappear in it.

“I don’t understand,” Ama said, stepping forward after watching the discussion from the far side of the room. “I don’t understand what any of this means.”

Jarin waited for Seg to speak, when he didn’t, he stood, spread his hands, and slipped naturally into the role of teacher he was so accustomed to.

“In the typical process, a House, which is a familial entity, much like your Damiar Lines, wins the bidding to sponsor a raid. They employ a recon unit and a Theorist to examine the world and determine the best vita sources for the raid,” he said, “then the Theorist returns. After submitting his raid proposal, the Theorist turns over the data for processing—as it is not his property but that of the sponsor House—and sits in to help determine the single best vita source, based on risk and reward. A rich, but highly defended source may be passed up in lieu of more easily accessible sources, for example. This is a collaborative process, and it is refined as the Theorist works his information until very specific trade-offs can be made–‘If we select this target, we will use a hundred troops and expect to lose ten…’” he used his hand, as he talked, to aid her visualization of the process. “Even in a normal raid, this can be a very painstaking process. Every trooper moved back and forth, every ounce of material sent, every caj or piece of technology or raw vita source, they all have a cost. Everything must be accounted for as closely as possible and with a minimum of force used to achieve a maximum gain.”

Jarin turned, resting his hand on his chair. “Then you take a supremely complex raid such as Segkel has proposed, as has been accepted by House Haffset. There will be no fine balance on this mission, at all. Even if given the full span of time, it would be a far more convoluted process than before. And because Segkel is not sitting present as they weigh and evaluate the prospective targets, he would have to guess at the allotments. He is somewhat above-average in this regard, but there are limits. In short, he has been shut out by the CWA, with the knowledge that without the raw data to help him prepare, and with the reduced time frame before launch, there is no way he can lead this raid.”

“And this…raw data, there’s no way to get it?” Ama asked, desperation coloring her question. “You couldn’t steal it somehow?”

“No,” Jarin said, allowing a faint smile at her brash suggestion. “Segkel is banned from entering the building, and interactions with the Recorders are closely monitored, mine particularly, I can assure you of that.”

“So, it’s over. It’s hopeless.”

The room was thick with silence. Ama backed away from Jarin, lost in thought, then stared at a wall as if she were staring through it. Jarin sat once more and rested his chin on his hand, absorbed in thoughts of his own.

“I can’t fail” Seg said, eyes on the floor, voice hollow

“The failure is not yours,” Jarin answered, his tone echoing Seg’s. “You planned a brilliant raid.”

“Plans are irrelevant if they are not executed.”

“So are promises,” Ama murmured, then drifted away from the wall and out of the room. Seg rose as if to follow but Jarin shook his head and gestured for him to sit.

“Do not make it worse.”

“It can’t get worse,” Seg grumbled, sinking back in the seat.

Jarin’s mouth twitched briefly into a smile, “The naivety of youth.” He pushed himself up with a grunt, “Let me make some enquiries. We will at least clear your name as regards the good Lieutenant.” He called Lissil into the room. “Please prepare a cup of greshk for Segkel,” he said, “and also for Amadahy.”

“Yes, Theorist Svestil,” Lissil lowered her eyes and bowed before gliding out of the room.

Jarin looked down at Seg. “We will do our best to salvage your career. As for the rest…” he sighed and his eyes shifted to where Ama had stood, “some lessons cannot be learned in a classroom.”

“It’s true then, she told you everything?” Seg’s face became even dourer. “Not that it’s of any consequence now, I suppose.”

Jarin placed his hands on the back of the chair. “No. Aside from one emotional and vague outburst of concern for her father’s safety, and despite my repeated solicitation, she refused to tell me anything about your time together. Amadahy is unschooled and out of her element but she is, for whatever reason, loyal to you.”

Even as Jarin spoke the words, Seg knew they were true. The knowledge didn’t make the situation any better. It made it worse.

“The old man wants you to drink this,” Lissil announced as she entered their small room, where Ama sat, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, face buried in her knees.

“Leave it,” Ama said, without raising her head.

“Oh, by the Sky Fathers! Now she pouts and cries like a child. Stupid and petulant…he really is better off without you.” Lissil took a sip of the drink and leaned against the doorframe. “Glare all you want, it won’t change anything. Besides, fathers die all the time, you’ll survive. Me, I would have paid someone to kill mine, though the bottle-loving bastard did me a favor the day he sold me off.”

“Eavesdropping again?” Ama leaned back against the bare wall, clutching her knees.

“Collecting information. A trick you’d be wise to learn now that the mighty Lord Eraranat has been shoved off into the scrapheap. That is, if you hope to get anywhere in this life beyond fixing meals and scrubbing floors.” Lissil examined the nails of her free hand and made a face.

Ama shook her head, remembering Judicia Corrus’s offer. “I don’t spy on people I care about.”

Lissil laughed and stepped further into the room. “Care about your overlords all you want, you’ll always be beneath them; they’ll never care about you. You’re in the mud with me now, sister. All we have are our eyes, our ears, our brains and the guts to use all three when it counts. I’ve collected a nice stack of secrets since the old man took me in; if I need to use them, they’re there. See, one of the benefits of being in the mud is that you’re invisible. You’re beneath notice. These people are no different from the Shasir or the Damiar, too busy with their heads in the clouds to care about some caj milling around their feet like a field animal.”

Pulling her hair back into a stiff knot, Ama frowned. “Maybe that’s how your world works. I’m not an animal. I’m not invisible and…” her hands dropped and her hair tumbled from the knot she had been about to cinch. “That’s it,” she said, and rushed past Lissil, out of the room.

Seg was staring into his cup of greshk when Ama burst into the living area once more. He braced himself for her tirade; his forbearance of her emotional sputtering was at least some minor penance he could pay, though hardly compensation.

“The place, where the raid is planned, where the information you need is kept, can Jarin go in there?” she asked in a rapid staccato.

“Yes,” he began, as Jarin appeared once more.

“Certainly I can,” Jarin answered. “I can attend raid-planning meetings at will. However, as mentioned, I have no access to the data and I also cannot keep my own notes on the matter, as I would merely be an observer. Adi,” he shook his head “has maneuvered this one quite nicely.”

“Adi?” Seg asked.

“Adirante Fi Costk. We knew each other in another life. You should know, I have sent a comm to—”

“Can you take caj into the meetings with you?” Ama interrupted Jarin, her voice loud and insistent.

Jarin opened his mouth to reply, then shut it. Both men turned to look at her, then each other. “That could work,” Jarin said after a moment.

Seg nodded. “Inobtrusive and overlooked, the key elements of infiltration. Invisible in plain sight.”

Ama sat down next to Seg, her knee touching his. “You’ll have to teach me what to do.”

“No, there is a better teacher here,” Jarin looked back and nodded to Lissil, who had just reentered the room.

Ama frowned but assented, “Of course.”

“The House will be screening for leeching devices or any other means of stealing data,” Seg said to Jarin, who nodded but was clearly already contemplating a solution.

“There is one leech that contains only a single component that could be read by the scanners…”

“Yes, but everyone gets scanned, even caj,” Seg countered.

“I think I have a man who could get it through,” Jarin said. “All that will be required is to maneuver Amadahy close enough to the Recorder to leech the data from his digipad, which I believe can be done. And, of course, she will need a chatterer installed, which will require some favors to be called in, given that she is unregistered. However, there is also the matter of your return. No one can know of it or suspect it or Adi will simply engineer another obstacle, but there is no possible way security will let you pass through into the Chamber without prior, CWA authorized clearance.”

Seg’s mouth slid into a smile, “I think I have someone who can get me through.”

“Indeed?” Jarin’s eyebrow rose.

“Yes, though I believe my mentor would caution me against divulging the name of an asset.”

“Quite correct,” Jarin said, with a slight nod to indicate approval. “Very well, but you should stay here until that moment, as your quarters are no doubt under surveillance. I will make room for you in my private chambers. You can play the part of the wounded young champion, mourning his failure under the care of his older…and much wiser mentor.”

“
Much
older,” Seg added. “The other portion is debatable.”

“This can work?” Ama piped up, the drained hope returning.

“Possibly,” Jarin said. “Very possibly.”

Ama turned to Seg, “I almost don’t want to ask this but—if I get caught?”

“They will hold me for what crimes you commit, and I will be penalized up to and including execution. You will be executed,” Seg said, “so don’t get caught.”

“I’ll do my best,” Ama said, swallowing. “How long until we can get in there?” she asked Jarin.

“Today you train, tomorrow we begin attendance,” Jarin said. “There is one other matter, though—” He reached up and tapped the back of his neck.

Seg rubbed his chin. “Can we rig some sort of prosthesis?”

Jarin nodded. “I believe that can be arranged.”

“What are you talking about?” Ama craned around to try and see the back of Jarin’s neck.

“Caj wear grafts,” Seg said. “Usually. They’re mechanical implants that serve as control devices.”

Jarin frowned. “They are designed with a variety of functions, including pain, sedation, nerve immobilization—they can paralyze, that is—and also a destruct feature that kills the caj. They are used to prevent escapes and rebellions.”

“You’re not going to put one of them in me, are you?” she asked Seg, hand unconsciously gripping the sleeve of his coat.

“Never,” Seg said, his voice emphatic. “We’ll get you something that looks just like it, but doesn’t actually go into your skin. A fake.”

Ama let out a breath. “Good. I would wear it, if I had to. I’ll do whatever it takes to get home. But I’m glad I won’t have to. It sounds barbaric.”

“Some feel that way,” Jarin said, letting his words hang before Seg.

Seg turned to Lissil. “You have your duties. Ama needs to know the basic caj protocols by morning and I’m sure Jarin will provide clothing for a suitable disguise.”

Lissil bowed. “Yes my Lord,” she said, eyes artfully averted. She held out her hand to Ama, “Come, sister, I’ll show you how you should behave.”

Ama stood, though she refused the extended hand, and moved to follow Lissil out of the room. She paused at the threshold and looked back at Seg, her throat tight. “We’ll make it work.”

“Of course we will,” he assured her. He looked back at Jarin. “This isn’t over, this incident with the CWA. It won’t be over.”

“Segkel,” Jarin said, with an enigmatic expression, “it never ends.”