Angeleyes - eARC (22 page)

Bast was the bag of holding. He handed me a visitor tag from a faramesh pouch.

“Damn.”

“It’s clean,” he said, as he grabbed two more. “We’ll need to change appearance.”

“That’s why you wanted makeup.”

“Yes. Make me swish,” he said.

Which was silly. He was more masculine than anyone I knew, and none of my makeup would match his skin tones.

I did what I could with some violet and a touch of glittergloss around his eyes. A dusting. He pulled his hair back and swept it over his ears with a bit of lift in the middle.

“Thank you,” he said, and it was uncanny. He did swish.

Shannon had already flattened his hair, run a dark streak through it, and slouched. He presented totally differently.

I squeezed a green dye on top of mine and rubbed it through. Bast had a towel for me to clean up with, and I suddenly looked younger and poutier after I did my lips. I love that combo in the themed clubs.

From the Hyatt, we went across the main passage to the Vista. We went into one of the family restrooms, changed again, jimbled our way through the dance club and took a side exit to a cross passage.

From there, we hit another club and joined a glitter parade, which I figured would screw with any sensors. From there to another, then I found an entrance to backspace. We made it around unhindered.

The dock, though, was buttoned down tight. They’d already had an alert, which was why we’d gone the way we did.

They were swabbing every person.

Right. We’d left unmistakable DNA in those suits. It wasn’t just residue, it was very clear evidence.

“Can you get us around, Angie?”

“I haven’t been here recently, and not in detail. I’m sure there’s an access tunnel, but I have no idea how it’s secured or controlled.”

“If you can find it, we can crack it. We have a few hours.”

I had to think. Those conduits came from main power directly to the dock. They probably had interfaces outside the dock, so they could be cut and revert to emergency power.“Where’s the emergency plant for the dock?”

“Radius forty-three.”

“We’re at fifty-two.”

We made our way around, and it wasn’t a straight shot. Older stations like this one have longitudinals more than latitudinals. We had to go back and forth, and up and down.

I found it at .25G, level three, radius forty-one.

“It should be this,” I said. “But I don’t know if we can get into it.”

Shannon said, “The lock is well used and has scratch marks around the latch.”

He went at it with a toolkit while Bast and I stood there and tried not to appear suspicious. Three people went past, but none of them gave us a second look.

I was sure there would be an alarm, but he opened it and nothing happened.

“Disabled,” he said.

“Probably too many panic responses to nothing,” I said.

We slid through and closed it behind us. It latched, but we could get out. They’re always one-way to allow trapped workers to escape.

We needed to move north longitudinally. Shannon’s indicator showed us that way, and I was glad, because I’d gotten turned around. We went in that direction.

“Dusty enough I don’t think anyone’s been here recently,” Shannon whispered.

“You’re right,” I said. I was still in a burning overload with my pulse hammering. It hadn’t stopped. I was exhausted from sheer mental tension. When were they going to catch us and how were we going to die? Because I knew we were going to die. Even if we weren’t spies or clandestine combatants according to law, we were incredibly dangerous to them.

I still wasn’t sure what they’d actually done back there, and couldn’t ask yet.

There were air breaks every hundred meters or so—like airlocks, but they just latch rather than locking. There was a spot where someone had been working.

“Looks like he came from that lateral,” Bast said, pointing at a cross-passage just ahead. Even his whisper carried.

As we reached it, the maintainer came around that corner. We were face to face for about a half second before he clutched for his phone.

Bast grabbed the phone and the guy’s neck, Shannon stuck a knife up inside his skull from behind the ear. I watched his eyes twitch and roll as his brainstem was scrambled, and he died in a gooey mess of shit, piss and blood.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“Sorry, dude, you were in the way,” Shannon said. “Let’s move.”

I ducked under some hanging cables and banged my head on an access panel door I didn’t see. I saw sparkles and my head throbbed. I made a loud “eep” noise and kept it to myself, but fuck, it hurt. It should have been funny when Shannon did the same, but it wasn’t.

And then I saw the exit hatch ahead, marked with reflective symbols. I waved my hand and pointed.

It was ironic. I’d just found the right exit when the alarms started panicking.

I mean every alarm there was. Fire, vacuum, toxic leak, power failure, collision warning, everything.

“I think they found our package,” Shannon said.

I didn’t ask. We got the hatch open, and took a careful look, but everyone in UN uniform was in a freak and running off the dock.

We walked straight across to the tram and took it to our radius, then a cable dolly down the gangway.

I was wondering how we were going to bull our away into a ride, but there was no need. Everything was unattended. Bast grabbed an inspection tug and we crowded into it, greasy and stinky and close enough to really notice it. He burped the jets manually to get it out of the bay and across to
Bounder
.

With no way to actually dock that thing, Roger opened one of the bays and Bast maneuvered us in. Pressure balanced, we debarked. Shannon grabbed an oxy bottle and glue-stripped it to the side of the tug. That done, we left the bay, depressurized it, and shoved the tug out into space.

“Did you mean for that to be a navigation hazard?”

“Absolutely.”

We got into departure track and waited. There was nothing from jump control for an hour, just a warble of “All controllers busy, please stand by.”

The news covered it. Twelve people were dead from toxic gas inhalation, and two others from anoxia. The atmosphere distribution blowers had been sabotaged. Additionally, several bombs had gone off, fifteen (!) police had been killed, along with a maintenance worker and two Hyatt employees.

Jack asked, “Are they exaggerating, did you get lucky, or have they pulled some of their own people and are blaming us?”

“Unknown.”

We weren’t killing them in large numbers, but their efficiency was badly damaged and their morale had to suck. We kept getting closer to Earth, and I wondered how many other operations were doing similar things.

Eventually, Jump Point control came back on air. “All craft will stand down and await inspection by fisheries patrol.”

“‘Fisheries patrol’?” Glenn asked.

“Ah ha!” Juan grinned back. “They’re conducting shipping inspections. That’s way old legal code from Earth for inspecting fishing vessels for contraband.”

“So why here?”

“Because they haven’t got a code for mandatory manifest inspections.”

They were all smiles. I asked, “What the hell do we do when they search us and find DNA traces and everything else?”

Juan said, “We’ll bluff our way through, or we kill them and run. It’s going to get interesting.”

He had a different definition of interesting than I did, but I had signed up, so it was my fight, too.

No one was going anywhere, and that was a massive problem for their outer economy. They needed those metals and volatiles. They didn’t need the higher end foodstuffs or luxuries, but the people who wanted them might not like the delays.

They started searching ships, using the four boats they had. Anyone connected to the dock got a hands-on inspection at once, which is why we’d pulled out.

Jack and Teresa came forward from the maintenance bay and handed each of us a pistol.

“Where did these come from?” I asked.

“Made them.”

They looked like standard issue, but I realized they had no marks of any kind. They’d just cranked them out on the fabmill from whatever specs they had.

“We’re going to fight?”

Juan said, “That depends. If they are doing a cursory hands on, no. If we can bull or bribe our way through, no. If not, we try to take them out, or at least take them with us.”

I felt better that if I was going to die, I was going to have a weapon in my hand.

We talked tactics. Who was going to be in where during boarding, and who was going to move where if it turned to a fight, where the guns would be, and who would move to support whom. I was going to cover the second rear passage toward engineering, and back up Bast if it came to that, and he’d be my backup.

It was all day waiting and we didn’t eat. We heard rumors and then news. They actually apprehended three crews in-station. I don’t know what happened to them. They worked through the big corporate ships first, because it was easier. They blew vacuum in all uninhabited spaces to ensure they were empty.

Then they moved to the trampers, but they still had ships coming in, and prepping to depart, and no way to move anything. It turned into a snarling jam.

Just as I was prepping myself for a firefight, because I was not going to be a prisoner again, they called it off. They said they’d do random searches of luggage and goods. They pulled out and told jump control to start queuing us.

I stayed nervous until we actually joined the queue and reached departure.

CHAPTER 28

They changed rules again, and wouldn’t let us deliver to the Freehold directly. We stopped on the Caledonia side and disconnected the pods, and had their own people take them through on a military tug.

Only, Bast and Jack had spent most of two days inside those pods, and had fake seals to put back on. I could only wonder what fuckery they committed on the contents. I’m assuming it made them less than spec, whatever they were.

We kept moving, just like any other tramper. It seems obvious that the number of decoys, false departures, fake manifests we could use was limited. Also, if something happened every time we docked or undocked, it would be obvious what we were. So most of our runs were legit cargo or passengers. We took a lot of relief runs to Mtali and metals from Govannon to Earth and Caledonia.

During this, a cargo pod in Freehold space burst open, and discharged loiter missiles that took off and then went silent to lurk. I never heard if they were found or not, and no ships were reported damaged, but it certainly ate up search resources looking for them.

I knew even then that eventually someone would find a pattern in what we did. We just needed the war to be over before they did, or enough warning to scram and try something else, or to make sure we did enough damage.

I knew even then that eventually someone would find a pattern in what we did. We just needed the war to be over before they did, or enough warning to scram and try something else, or to make sure we did enough damage.

I had no idea what we were accomplishing. A lot of it seemed small stakes. Though, capturing a capital ship had to count for something just by itself. It wasn’t planned, though, so I don’t know if we’d been tossed out on some off chance, or if there were plans underneath.

They kept escalating, which I figured was partly from getting to know the risks and responses, and partly from needing to do more damage.

I wondered how long we could get away with it before we got caught again. Would they get some or all of us?

At this point, I figured they’d just space us or shoot us. Holding us was dangerous and didn’t get them any intel, and trials would take time. We also might get away. They could legitimately call us terrorists, and would do that instead of acknowledging any movement, which we didn’t belong to. They’d already denied our nation existed.

I have no idea how I managed. Every jump, every dock, I expected to get grabbed.

We were also getting intel from the UN, watching how the troops reacted, what their mindset was. They were as tense as we were.

I’d hear about other attacks or sabotage, and I don’t know if that was other Freehold action, or just random dissidents and rebels, or just disgruntled residents.

A couple of months later, with no activity I could tell, we wound up back in Sol on the Salin side.

On the C-deck, Juan said, “Intel this time. We’re going to pull as much data as we can, so we need IDs. Angie, we need a club where lots of them will hang out, and you have to help bait them.”

“Just dancing, or how far do I need to go?”

“Dancing and drinking for certain, after that, it depends.”

“Can we sit apart? Having a male nearby is a block in Earth or Caledonia. In NovRos they might think you’re a pimp. Back home or Meiji, they don’t care.”

“What if you went with a woman?” he asked.

“I haven’t before,” I said. “But I could.”

“Are you comfortable doing that?” He asked it completely matter-of-factly.

I replied the same way, “Sure.”

Teresa said, “You might have to act out to keep the cover solid.”

I looked at Teresa. “As long as you brush your teeth and don’t get food stuck, I can manage.”

“Well, of course,” she nodded and smiled. “Business can be dirty, but if it doesn’t have to be, clean is better.”

“Good,” he said. “Then we’ll send the two of you as a distraction while we procure resources.”

“What type?”

“Data off phones, chips and ID. Same as last time.”

“Those are shielded, and I thought they updated their protocols against intrusion again.” And we were in their home space.

“Yes, and we can crack them in a minute or so. You just have to keep the subject busy.”

I said, “I’m going to get a reputation as a titch like that, but okay.”

“Are you known here?”

“Not well, but word does get around here and there, and we can’t do it more than a couple of times in any window. Not more than two clubs or two nights, or they’ll suspect something.”

“Which ‘they’?”

“Sorry. Clubbers, possibly management, possibly cops. Best case, they think we’re trolling or just pros. Worst case, they think we’re mob bait.”

“Can we risk two nights and two clubs each?”

“Probably.”

“Then whichever clubs will give us the best hit on intel types.”

I looked at Teresa.

“Been clubbing much?”

She said, “Not really. A few weekends in training. I’ve been busy since then.”

“Okay. Do you know how to do makeup?” I asked.

She said, “For formal events, yes.”

“Ah. Let me teach you anti-formal. Can they watch?” I asked her. “They might need to seduce someone, too.”

“Sure,” she agreed.

“Good,” Juan said. I hadn’t been joking, and it hadn’t fazed him at all.

I went to the bunk and grabbed my new dress kit from my personal crate.

“Okay, light, clean foundation,” I said. “Just to smooth out pores and give the rest something to stick to.” I dusted her all over. “Line the eyes to match your color. We’re going light metallic blue. Pencil right here.”

She said, “Ack!” and twitched. “I hate having my eyes touched.”

“Sorry,” I said. “it only takes a moment. Now, two swipes of liner, one lighter than the other, and blend with your finger. Drag it out past the corner to make your eyes look wider. You don’t need mascara.”

I tilted her head up slightly, and highlighted her cheeks with a couple of puffs.

“Make sure the base color blends on the ears and throat,” I said. “And then just a faint contour along your jaw.” It surprises some people how fast you can dress up. I guess some women take hours doing it. I learned how to do it fast so I could maximize my port time.

“Now, lips. Yours are thin, so we want to widen them slightly, but not too much. Outline here, color fill. Glitter or gloss. We’re going with glitter. And a topcoat.”

When I was done, her lips were noticeable, but not quite garish. Men would see them, though.

“Change bras,” I said. “Show some stack and cleave.”

“These are all I have.” She indicated her briefer. Good shipwear, not great for clubbing.

“Well, that’s practical, but not what we want here. Mine is probably a little large, but . . . try this one.” I pulled one from my “skinny” compartment, when I’m off ship and lean from working out.

She pulled it on and I tightened the shoulders more than they should be, to give her some lift.

“There. Go with that sleeveless tank tunic and the tight slacks. They do good things for your ass.”

“You think so?” she asked. “They’re not too tight?”

“Too tight for anything practical, but they’ll work to distract a man.”

She blushed a bit. It was cute.

I didn’t go all out, but I wore stockings, open panties, a medium skirt with a quick release back slit, a tunic that flared over my hips, and a choker. I tied a blue bandana in a triple knot to make it clear I was looking but not promising. I wanted to look right for the part.

Before we left, she motioned me into the bunkroom.

“How far can you play this?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Are we supposed to be a date?”

“We can be. Played right, two chicks can get most guys. Either back and forth, or together.”

“That’s what I mean. Are you able to get physical to maintain that image?”

Ah. It was good to ask that, but no worries.

I said, “Yes, I can dance with you, kiss you, feel you up, and act like I really mean it.”

“Good. I don’t want to overdo it, but a little makes the lie work. And a little more keeps people from noticing us directly.”

“I’ve done that before when I needed to get past a pay gate,” I said. “I like girls okay, just not as much as guys.”

“Hah. Got it.”

I looked over the loads about the local clubs. We wanted the two that would appeal to spook or techie types. I chose Avant because it had Neuro Dance Night. Neuro was bound to get nerds who liked it and others who wanted to analyze it. Halfway Inn had a heavy singles clientele who were into mystery fet. They wouldn’t even ask who we were.

Juan said, “I’d deliberately avoid a place like that for that reason.”

“Which is why the ones who will be there are the ones you want.”

“Valid,” he agreed. “You’re on.”

“How will you get them?

“All you have to do is get them into a cubby or a dark booth or some passage alley. We’ll do the rest and you won’t even see it.”

“How long?”

“Five minutes will get us everything. Three will get us a lot. That’s the minimum.”

“Okay.”

We walked off the dock followed by the gaze of every male at work. They knew where we were going, hoped what they thought we were going to do, and were jealous. I bet none of them could describe our faces, either, just the outfits and makeup.

Twenty minutes and three tram rides later, we had a room at a Hansa hotel. It was across the promenade from Avant. It was major Neuro music. I could feel the tremors and some sort of phase shifts. It panned around and through my head as the MJ mixed it and moved the epicenter. Yes, he knew how to hit those low freqs you can feel in your cooze and nipples. I wonder if men get some similar effect?

I got into the groove and started flexing. If I was going to be here, the first thing was to look and feel like I belonged. Teresa got behind me and bumped me now and then. I leaned back to rub shoulders and shimmy, then back to flexing limbs.

I turned to face her and pumped my ass out for bait. I wasn’t looking on purpose, but I knew guys were watching.

She leaned in and said, “Kiss me a bit.”

She was touching me anyway. I ran my lips along her jaw, brushed across her lips and felt that tingle I always get. It’s part first kiss, part surprise because I almost never have women. Her lips were soft and relaxed, and her tongue rather naughty. She either liked it or was a really good actress.

It was a really good kiss. Damn. My brain started wondering about her and Roger or Sebastian. That would make for an amazing session, and I might have to play that out later.

I pulled away, winked and turned back around. We shifted across the floor until we had a booth and flicked the light so it said we were available to talk only.

We had images of some of the potential targets, but I couldn’t remember who they were and didn’t dare get caught looking. Teresa found someone, though, and smiled and waved.

He came over and waited for her to pat the seat.

I slid out with a wink and let her get to work while I went to get some cold water and dance some more.

Five minutes and a song section later, I took a look and she was busy with her mouth on his and her hands in his hair. Then he slid out and she followed.

I guess that was a score. They went toward the back exit, either to lurk there or find a passage with a nook.

I didn’t recognize anyone, so I floated around the dance floor waiting for someone to ping my phone and let me know I was near one. The music was very inspiring and my pulse hammered.

In my ear I heard, “Get her out.”

I did a slow nod and moved my steps toward the back.

She was there, in a corner, in the walkway behind the booth, being passed by occasional servers who paid no attention to them. The place was discreet.

She was still making out with him. He had hands under her tunic. Juan had what he needed, so I went to rescue her.

“Hey, girlie!”I said cheerfully. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m always interrupting.” I giggled and winked at him.

“Oh, that’s fine,” she said. “Sorry, I got distracted.” She pulled her tunic back and ran fingers through her hair.

“You should,” I said, then moved in as if to poach. “Nice shirt,” I said, running my fingers along his shoulder. I slid them down his side with my other hand and she pulled it away.

“Dammit, stop doing that, Hazel!” she snapped at me.

“What?” I looked at her, then back at him, running my eyes up and down. “He’s cute. I just was complimenting him.”

He looked at her, then at me. He muttered something and stepped back. She’d played perfectly, and he was smart enough to get away from what he thought was going to be a bitch fight.

And she’d slipped his phone back into his pocket as he paid attention to my fingers. I’d barely seen it.

We went back to the booth and then to the floor. I found a guy who was cute, but not on the list. I let him give me a good rubbing and necking in the booth, but blocked his hand when he went under the skirt. I made a point not to rub him or tease him, and eased him back onto the floor after a couple of songs. He actually was my type, but I had work to do.

I danced with two more and Teresa made out with another, back in the booth, eyes closed and panting. She was tense, and I wondered if he was good enough to get her off.

“Hey, can I try?” I asked, and she let him go.

He wasn’t sure if he should be glad for another woman, or sad at not having her. I put a good liplock on him and got my fingers on his neck and shoulders.

He was okay. Nice looking, interested in what he was doing, trying really hard, but it was obvious he was trying. I gave him a minute or two, and she’d left the booth by then.

We didn’t find anyone else, and after two hours she leaned over and whispered, “Let’s move.”

She knocked back a shot of something and we headed for Halfway Inn.

I’d thought it would be a meat market. Godsdamn I was right. I think ninety percent of the cooze was for hire, and at least twenty percent of the cock. The rest were all trying to give it away. That really wasn’t safe, even this distance from Earth proper. I’d bet someone here had had an Earthie grounder or six, and someone had a disease from it. Most of them aren’t lethal, but they are nasty.