Juliet watched as the gray, flexible membrane slowly squelched together, filling in the gap she’d cut away. In seconds, it was whole, just a flat, rubbery layer of material. She slid the hull plate she’d removed back into place, grunting at the weight of it, and then spent several minutes bolting it down and squirting the pliable, self-setting gasket material into the seam. With her membrane sample sealed in a plastic dish meant for leftovers, she climbed down the ladder and began putting her tools away. She’d spent a tiny fraction of her Sol-bit balance starting a toolkit for herself. Her first purchase had been a robotic toolbox that would follow her around from hangar to hangar if she wanted it to.
She locked the top of her toolbox and then jostled the plastic container, peering in at the section of membrane and the weird, oozing gel at the center. “So, all we need to do is put some of these nanites into the fabricator on the gunship?”
“That’s the first step. Then, I need to program the fabricator to produce more of them, and you’ll need to install the correct nutrient cartridges. Of course, none of that will matter until you’ve sprayed the new membrane in place.”
“I guess I should get this over to the hangar so Bennet can talk to that sales rep again. What was his name? Something Figueroa . . .”
“Eddie Figueroa from Nebula NanoCoatings.”
“That’s right. Eddie. What’s my Sol-bit balance, by the way?”
“1,463,003 Sol-bits.” When Angel said the number, Juliet’s head still had trouble wrapping around the idea. She didn’t have any bills due, and she was sitting on nearly one and a half million bits. On top of that, she owned two spaceships outright and had a major stake in another. By any measure, she was wealthy. By the standard she’d grown up with, she was absurdly so. She’d only been back a couple of days, but she was starting to wonder what she should do with herself, and that fat stack of bits sitting in her digital vault had opened so many doors that she felt paralyzed by the choices.
She was just thinking about making a list, talking to Angel about her ideas, when her digital friend or sister or both rescued her with another distraction, “You’ve been back for nearly three days and haven’t reached out to Honey. Don’t you think you should message her?”
“That’s . . . a good idea. I’m not sure why I haven’t—busy seeing Shiro and Alice off and reviewing the progress on the gunship, I guess.”
“And reading, going out to eat, lifting weights with Bennet . . .”
“Yeah, I get it. I’ve had time. Okay, just message her; say I’m back in town, and she can call me whenever she’s free. Oh, and tell her thanks for the shirt. Tell her it was sweet she remembered I like those.”
“Done.”
Juliet sat on one of the two shop stools that had been left behind by the previous tenant of the hangar and idly spun from left to right as she thought about what she wanted to do. Despite everything she’d like to buy, she had a hard time thinking past the dark shadow cast by the lingering threat of WBD. Of all the dangerous people and corporations she’d crossed paths with, WBD was always central and prominent—an itch she couldn’t scratch, a feeling like someone was hovering behind her, ready to pounce at any second.
She’d gotten rid of the worry about Rutger Tanaka. Her encounter with him, strange as it had been, put to rest her fear that he was plotting revenge. In fact, she had a message from Frida practically begging her to sit down for a meal with him—she’d ignored it. Juliet sighed and pushed that thought aside. “Since Tanaka doesn’t seem to be an immediate problem, I think we should consider trying to get out from under the threat of WBD.” She wasn’t sure where she was going with that statement but figured talking things through with Angel would provide some clarity.
“When you say ‘out from under the threat,’ what does that look like to you?”
Juliet frowned, thinking. After a minute, she said, “I don’t know. What does it look like to you? They want you more than they want me.”
“That may have been true at one point, but I think we’re both rather high on their list now. I’m not sure how we can ever feel free of them. They consider me their property. Unless we can convince them that I’m gone or that they don’t want me, I don’t see how we can ever stop worrying that they’ll find us. They have trillions of bits worth of resources, so, despite your much improved financial standing, you can’t go head-to-head with them.”
“I don’t need to take on their whole company. Think of them like a monster with lots of arms or tentacles. All of those tentacles aren’t looking for us, just one of them. We need to isolate the people in that tentacle, figure out who they are, and then cut them off the monster.”
“It’s an interesting analogy, Juliet, but I fear there may be more than one tentacle on that monster that’s interested in you. Also, the tentacle may be attached to the brain, and the monster is likely to notice when it’s amputated.”
Juliet spoke slowly, pausing frequently as she tried to envision the things she and Angel would need to do. “Not if we’re smart, though. If we get inside, find the people really involved in my situation and deal with them—if we could get you into their corpo net, if you could delete the data they have and write up a report saying you were destroyed or something . . .”
As she trailed off, Angel began speaking, “I believe I see your point. If I could get back into their corporate network, as you suggest, there’s much I’ve learned since I woke up and found myself pursued and forced to disconnect. I’m fairly sure that I could construct daemons to deal with WBDs ICE, and, given the freedom to explore and alter the data I find, we could go a long way toward being truly free from them, even if you didn’t deal with the people in charge of hunting for us.”
“But if we also dealt with those people, one way or another, whoever had to pick up the pieces would be totally lost if all they had to go on was the data you doctored.”
“So, the idea is sound, but how do I access the most secure part of a closed network belonging to one of the most powerful corporations on Earth?”
Juliet turned on the stool to face the workbench and began to drum her fingers atop it. “Well, we don’t have to do it alone. We’ve got plenty of cash on hand; we could bankroll an operation.”
“Ah,” Angel said, intrigued, “as in hiring a fixer and putting together a whole team?”
“Yep. I’m talking high-ranked operators, people who know what they’re doing, who’ve been involved in top-level corporate espionage stuff.” Juliet thought for a moment, fiddling with a strand of her shoulder-length auburn hair—she’d decided to go for a more natural look after shedding her Lacy Blake persona. “We need to find a fixer we can trust, and we need to make sure the people we hire have no connection to WBD; we won’t advertise the job details.”
“I’ll begin researching and vetting fixers here on Luna, or did you want to look Earthside?”
“That’s a good question.” Juliet wondered how she could possibly find a fixer she could trust. If WBD had gotten to Murphy, who else in the vast, highly connected network of fixers and chop-docs wouldn’t have received some kind of alert and reward offer for any news of someone like her? “Even if I hired them under a different name, what kinds of alarm bells would people start to hear once they learned the job was at WBD? What kinds of connections might a fixer begin to make when he heard about the types of people I needed? I suppose I could be vague; I don’t have to specify a company. Still, the people I hire will eventually know what’s up, and maybe they’ll make a connection. You have to figure WBD’s put out feelers, offered rewards. How could I ever trust anyone I hire to work on a job with that company as the target?”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“You may need to approach someone you already know, someone you don’t have to worry is connected to WBD.”
“Like whom, Angel? Hot Mustard? Mags? The people I met in Phoenix aren’t cut out for a job like this. Honey’s no longer doing this kind of work, and Temo, the only fixer I think I could trust, is dead.”
“You may not want to hear this, but there are some connections you’ve made since Phoenix that you may be able to approach for help.”
“Antigone? Do I really trust her, though?”
“There’s someone much closer to . . .”
Juliet groaned and slapped her hands to the side of her head in frustration. “Angel, will you please spit it out?”
“Rutger Tanaka is a high-level security operative who has managed operations as sophisticated as the one you’re considering.”
“Tanaka . . .” Again, Juliet groaned, and this time, she stood up and began to pace back and forth along the length of the Furies’ Wing. She wanted to reject Angel’s idea outright, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Tanaka was a big-time operator. He had connections. He had his own team. Moreover, he seemed to have a weird connection to Juliet, a desire to get her to . . . what? Sit down with him? Did that mean he’d help her go up against one of the biggest corps in the system? “I guess we could feel him out. If nothing else, it’ll get Frida off my back.”
“Does that mean you want me to respond to the message?”
“Play it for me again, please.”
As she continued to pace back and forth, a window appeared on her AUI, and Frida’s familiar, pale, freckled face began to speak, “Lucky, I’m sorry about the weirdness with the boss the other day. To be fair, you kind of took us by surprise lurking in the garage like that.” She shook her head, making a pfft sound as she blew a breath through her lips. “That’s BS, I know. He wasn’t himself, and whatever you said brought up some emotions. He wants to make it up to you. He wants to meet you for dinner and talk about, in his words, finding a way to figure out his and your ‘karmic ties.’ Don’t ask me what he means ‘cause he ignores my frequent inquiries. Will you please consider it? You know how to get in touch.”
“Karmic ties,” Juliet scoffed, shaking her head. “You know how I feel about Tanaka, Angel. The idea of sitting with him bothers me, let alone working with him.”
“It may turn out to be a bad option, but you won’t know until you listen to him. Leave aside his strange behavior, his attempt to hand his life to you, and we still have my spy daemons in Frida’s AUI and his office network. I don’t think we need to worry about him double-crossing you.”
“Unless he does it himself or has an entirely different team Frida doesn’t know about. I mean, she didn’t know about the guy watching her on Callisto.”
“I take your point, but I’m still in favor of hearing him out. You don’t have to like the man to use his connections and resources.”
Juliet didn’t respond. She let her mind stew on it a little while she straightened up the hangar and then left, locking up behind her. She’d had Angel hire a security guard to watch the door using the same shell corporation they’d rented the hangar under. They were supposed to start work that evening. She wouldn’t have the only hangar in the port with physical security, but it was definitely outside the norm, so much so that she’d wondered if it made the hangar conspicuous, adding more risk than benefit. Angel had devised a compromise: The security company had strict instructions to patrol the corridor with nine other hangar airlocks, not stand stationary outside hers.
Halfway through the port, heading for the cab Angel had hired, she made up her mind. “Oh, fine. Call Frida, will you?” Ten seconds later, after only two connection attempt tones, Frida’s face appeared on her AUI.
“Hey, you called!”
“Don’t sound so relieved.” Juliet smiled; she couldn’t help liking the woman despite her connection to Tanaka.
“I am relieved! You don’t know how he’s been moping around since your meeting. He keeps telling me to call you, but I’m like, ‘Boss, we need to give her some space to think.’ You know?”
“Heh. I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me that—kinda undermines his position.”
“Oh, he’s done plenty of that on his own, hasn’t he?” She paused, and Juliet saw her eyes dart to her left. Judging by her position in a desk chair, Juliet figured she was looking at Tanaka’s office door. “So, is this a good news call? Will you meet with him?”
“Yeah. Tell him he can buy me dinner tonight. Someplace fancy where I don’t have to worry about getting knifed in the bathroom.”
“Oh, thank you, Lucky! We’ll send a car at seven. Is that okay?”
“Where are you going to send it?”
“Oh, um, you tell me.”
On the one hand, Juliet wouldn’t mind riding in a fancy car, but on the other, she’d rather they didn’t know what hangar she’d been staying in and who she kept company with. Thinking that, she almost laughed—she could afford to ride in any kind of car she wanted. Frida must have seen the amusement on her face because she smiled, too, probably thinking it was a good sign. “I’ll get my own ride, Frida. Thanks, though. Just send my PAI the address.”
“Okay, no problem. I’ll send it your way.” She looked like she wanted to say more but was reconsidering it. As the moment dragged into near awkwardness, Juliet prompted her.
“What?”
“I, well, I just wanted to say I think your hair and eyes look really nice. The natural colors suit you.” Juliet had toned down the green in her eyes; they were still unnaturally clear and bright, but the green with soft brown and yellow flecks looked almost like she could’ve been born with them.
She twisted her lips into a half smile and let just a touch of her Lacy Blake persona into her voice as she growled, “Are you buttering me up, Frida?”
“No!” Frida started to stammer something else, but Juliet laughed.
“Relax! I’m teasing. Thanks for saying so. By the way, just ‘cause I’m sitting down with your boss doesn’t mean I’m cool with everything. I just want to hear him out and see if I can put him in the rearview.”
“Uh, right. Understood.” Frida nodded, and she seemed so genuinely crestfallen that Juliet almost felt sorry for her. She must be desperate to get her boss back to normal.
“I’ll be waiting for that address. See you later.” Frida barely had time to stammer a quick goodbye before Juliet closed the connection. “I could work with Frida. I won’t say the same about Tanaka, but Frida . . . yeah, she’s pretty cool.”
“Is that all it takes to win you over? A compliment about your hair and eyes?”
“Oh, hush, Angel!” Juliet laughed, striding away from the customs checkpoint toward the curb. “Now, I’ve been wanting to spend some money, and we just agreed to a fancy dinner. How about a new dress?”
“I love that idea! Also, you should make an appointment with Doctor Ladia; she might have some upgrade suggestions for you.”
“Oh, absolutely. I mean, we’re still sitting on a couple million worth of Cybergen implants, but I’m not eager to replace any limbs or organs—not yet.” Juliet slid into the backseat of the cab and then, as the idea hit her, said, “I miss driving myself around. Plus, I'll get rusty if I keep riding around like a princess! I want to buy a bike.”
“I’m assuming you don’t mean a pedal bike.”
Juliet snorted. “Nope.”
“Pardon me, operator XR713-004, but would you kindly provide your firearm license . . . Pardon, I seem to have just received it. Thank you, and enjoy the ride.”
“Change our destination, Angel. Find me a motorcycle dealer; I’ve seen people riding them around Luna, so there must be one . . .”
“I’ve got one.”
“Thank you, route updated,” the cab said as Angel sent the new instructions.
“Do you promise you’ll wear a helmet when riding the bike?”
Juliet laughed, suddenly feeling excited and optimistic. “Of course, I will! You know I love wearing a cool helmet. What’s the name of the dealer? Someplace nice, I hope, yeah? I wonder if they’ll have helmets for sale.”
“Selene Spectra Motors, where the art of luxury motorcycle craftsmanship meets the essence of celestial elegance,” Angel’s tone indicated she was reading from their business page.
“Celestial elegance? Barf!” Juliet laughed, but going to a high-end bike dealer sounded fun. “Do I need an appointment?”
“I’ve already messaged ahead—Fred Evers awaits your arrival. He won salesman of the year three years ago.”
“What about last year’s winner? Are you putting me with some washed-up has been?” Juliet teased.
Angel gifted her with a rare giggle. “Not in the least! I believe Fred is going to be hungry to reclaim his title. He’s sure to pull out all the stops, put his best foot forward, and probably try to incentivize the sale by throwing in some floor mats.”
“Floor mats, Angel? On a motorcycle?”
“Er, perhaps a custom gas cap!”
“Gas? On Luna?”
“A custom seat cover, then!”
“Now you’re talking! We’ll see if we can get him to throw in some custom grips, too . . . no, no, no, what am I thinking? A helmet! He better be prepared to offer me a sparkly silver one like the poor helmet I spray-painted black in Tucson.”
“Better yet, perhaps he’ll have a helmet that can alter its appearance like your combat helmet.”
“That’s right, Angel. Poor Fred. He doesn’t know what he’s in for, does he?”
Angel’s voice was soft and sweet and conveyed her good mood and amusement as she replied, “No, Juliet. No, he doesn’t.”