House of Gold, page 28
I nod toward the passenger seat and watch as she goes to fetch the briefcase and the other items I collected from Mnisi’s safe. She has a determined look on her face as she closes the door. “If we retrace his steps through the Nzuko, we might be able to find who else is part of his group, and where they might have taken Counselor.”
“I can do that,” I offer, then eye Mnisi’s corpse. “As soon as I take care of this first.”
“Good. In the meantime . . .” Adaolisa lifts the closed briefcase so she can take a better look at it. “I’ll try to find out exactly what this thing is.” She glances one last time at Mnisi, then walks away. “I’ll see you back at HQ.”
“All right.”
My heart aches as I watch her return to her vehicle. Mnisi’s dead eyes don’t blink as I shut the trunk.
CHAPTER 19:
HONDO
I lift a hand to protect my eyes from the sun’s glare as we come out onto the frigate’s weather deck. I expected the flotilla would be a large collection of ships, and I’m not disappointed. There are more ships in my immediate line of sight than I’ve ever seen in one place. Warships, cruisers, yachts, aircraft carriers—most with a black star marking their hulls.
But they sail at the periphery of a much more impressive structure: a constellation of hexagonal neighborhoods floating mostly in a ring and connected to each other through detachable walkways. Neat but visibly aged prefabricated buildings rise up to four stories high on these floating neighborhoods, many of which were built with platforms for ships to dock and refuel.
As we follow David down a long gangway off the ship, a knot loosens in my stomach at the sight of the Seajack docked to a nearby charging port, its white hull seeming to glow in the sunlight. Despite my lingering anger over being kidnapped, I feel myself thawing just a little, though I’ve already decided we’ll be leaving and getting as far away from here as possible at the first opportunity.
David takes us on a slow walk down a treed pathway in one of the larger neighborhoods, a leisure park, I think. I see an old couple sitting on a bench, enjoying the sunlight while watching over two little girls chasing each other on a well-tended lawn. A woman greets David with a smile as she jogs past us, a light sheen of perspiration covering her face. I could almost believe we were on an island, or somewhere along the coast.
More people we pass incline their heads at David. One man even stops to shake his hand. I don’t think he’s universally known; not everyone seems to recognize him. But those who do greet him with a clear measure of respect.
Jamal observes this with a slight tilt of an eyebrow, but for a while he lets David speak without interruption.
The Black Star flotilla is home to one of the larger and more powerful tribes of the Free People, or so David tells us. There are at least five other major tribes that sail the oceans of the planet, some more democratic than the others, but the one thing they have in common is an unshakable hatred for the corporate cities.
Most of the tech they use, including the blocky prefabs and the helium-3 nuclear reactors that power everything, is pre-Artemisian. And so are their societies, David tells us. They are the last remnants of the settlers who arrived from the stars in pursuit of a better life, the last holdouts driven off dry land by rising corporate powers who were determined to destroy anything they couldn’t dominate.
Patience, Benjamin, and I stay two steps behind the Primes the whole time. When they come to a stop by the rails of a seaside walkway, we stop, too, though I’m sure the others are listening as attentively as I am.
I’m surprised Patience is still with us. I wonder if the lieutenant sent her to watch me or if David has acquired himself a second Proxy.
“They’ve changed very little over the past century,” David says to Jamal, his face turned toward the fantastic view of the ocean and the flotilla’s many glittering ships. “In a lot of ways, this is something to celebrate and admire about them. But they’ve also grown stagnant, I’d say, and proud, too caught up in the tiny details to see the bigger picture. Disagreements over the silliest things, like the meaning of a flag or the true name of a dead war hero. They fail to see how much power they could command if they only stood together. Things are beginning to change, though.”
Jamal leans against the rails and watches David with a lopsided near smile. “You know, I heard there was commotion going on among the Free People. I don’t know why I didn’t realize there was more to it. So what, are you their leader now?”
Patience makes a scoffing noise, and I note the way Benjamin’s expression flattens like he’s holding in a frown. So she doesn’t like David either. I don’t know why, but this pleases me greatly.
“Oh, I’m far too young for that,” David says. “Besides, they elect their leaders here. But I’m good at getting people to sit down and work around their differences toward a common goal. I helped end a decades-long turf war, so now I get sent to mediate between the tribes. They see me as a genuinely neutral party. It’s the best place to start building alliances that transcend traditional tribal lines.”
“I’m impressed,” Jamal says, a little too honest for my liking. “Although I can’t say I’m surprised.”
David flashes a sheepish grin. “We can’t help ourselves, can we? The compulsive need to change things for the better was built into us.”
“You mean the compulsive need to control.”
“To change something, you need a measure of control over it. And you’re one to talk. I’ve seen what’s inside your ship. I know for a fact you’re the one causing all that trouble in the cities.”
There’s nothing sour in David’s tone, but Jamal turns his face away. “You don’t know what it’s like in the cities. The Habitat might have been a prison, but I’d take that over what many people have to endure up here.”
“Then I’m glad the Free People found us,” David says. “And good timing, by the way. It’s a much-needed boost in morale for everyone to see that the cities are not untouchable. What you did in ZimbaTech . . .” Something hungry skitters across David’s eyes as he regards Jamal, instantly raising my hackles. “I’m beginning to realize just how much we all underestimated you, my friend.” He laughs, throaty and slightly resentful. “I guess that’s how you were able to play both me and Adaolisa.”
“I was only trying to stay alive,” Jamal says.
“I know. And I . . . apologize for how I reacted.” David looks down at his sandals like he can’t meet Jamal’s eyes. “Honestly, I don’t even remember how I let myself become her puppet. She had a way of getting inside your head, you know?”
“You mean, she has a way of getting inside your head.”
David’s head whips up, a stricken look on his face. “What?”
“Adaolisa is in ZimbaTech,” Jamal clarifies, showing only the barest hint of glee at David’s reaction. “She and Nandipa were with us when Counselor took us up to the surface.”
“Nandipa is alive?” Benjamin utters, his eyes uncharacteristically wide. It shocks me a little because I’ve never heard him speak of his own accord in David’s presence.
“She is,” Jamal says to Benjamin, and this time he lets his smirk show. “In fact, we lived together in the same apartment for months. Got to know each other quite well.”
“So that was her work then, in ZimbaTech, with the hacks?” David says, still looking like he’s seen the ghosts of his ancestors.
“Oh no, that was me,” Jamal says flippantly. “In fact, that’s why I had to leave.”
“Ah.” Abruptly David’s shock transforms into a contemptuous curl of the lip. “She has plans of her own, I take it, and you were interfering.” He snickers. “I’m guessing she’s already in control of the city.”
“That would be a safe guess.”
“You know what her next move will be, right?”
“Take control of the other cities?”
“We can’t let her do that,” David says with venom that has clearly simmered for a while. “Adaolisa is like a black hole. She gravitates toward the center of power. She is the center of power; she wants to suck everything in. If she takes control, no one will be able to stop her.”
Jamal remains thoughtfully expressionless, perhaps not wanting to reveal too much of his own opinion on the matter. “You said you had a proposal.”
“Yes,” David says. “I want us to work together.”
“Doing what?”
“Hitting the cities where it hurts. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To tear down the rot so there’s a chance people will wake up and build something better?”
Jamal’s lips part like he’s surprised. “Yes.”
“I can help you. The Free People are used to life at sea, but they had cities and towns on dry land before the corporations drove them out. They’ve always wanted their land back—it’s easier to build and grow things on dry land—but it’s a tough ask. The corporate cities don’t want their enslaved populations infected with democratic ideas, so they keep the Free People as far away as possible.”
“So you want to invade,” Jamal asks.
“I want to force the cities to the negotiating table. That means crippling them until they don’t have a choice. Here’s the thing, Jamal. You have your computers and your hacks, and I have motivated people and lots of guns. Together, we’d be unstoppable.”
My heart sinks when Jamal appears to consider the idea. “Perhaps.”
They proceed to spend the rest of the day together, comparing notes on what they’ve seen and done since the attack on the Habitat, Patience, Benjamin, and me tailing them like shadows.
Miserable shadows, at least where Benjamin and I are concerned.
David helps Jamal barter our grain seeds and ammo for more food and supplies than they’re worth. And with one smile and a wink, he gets the docking officials to recharge our Seajack for free. The ease with which Jamal settles into a lighthearted rapport with him makes me unreasonably ill tempered.
I don’t trust David. Even the Free People don’t trust him; otherwise why would Patience stick to him like a fly on fresh shit? I see it in the way she watches us all, listening, making notes and observations with the awareness of a trained Proxy. No doubt every word said between the Primes will be relayed back to Lieutenant Lukwiya.
We return to the park later that afternoon, licking cones of locally made plant-based ice cream so good I almost forget that I don’t like this place. The Primes tacitly dismiss us and wander off to go sit on a bench out of earshot. For some reason Patience stays with me and Benjamin, and the three of us sit on our own bench, watching the Primes laugh at each other’s jokes like old friends.
“They’re getting too chummy with each other,” Benjamin grouses.
“I know,” I say, and we both scowl at each other, annoyed there’s something we agree on.
Patience catches on and snickers, hiding her smile behind her ice cream.
Benjamin chomps down on his cone like it’s a thankless chore, then says, without looking at me, “So you lived with Nandipa for months?”
I lick my ice cream, savoring this feeling. “I did.”
I don’t need to look at Benjamin to know he’s frowning. I can almost feel the creases on his forehead. “She thought you were a creep, you know.”
“Once, maybe,” I say deliberately. “But things changed.”
A dangerous edge enters Benjamin’s voice. “Did they, now?”
“I’m not looking for a fight, Benjamin.”
I sense he has something else to say, but he swallows it down and sighs. “Neither am I.”
When I turn my head to the side, I catch Patience staring at me with something much less hostile, more curious than the withering looks she’s been giving me all day. “What?” she says defensively, like I’m the one guilty of staring.
“Nothing,” I say, and it’s my turn to hide my smile.
I almost kneel and loudly praise the ancestors when Jamal finally decides it’s time to head back to our ship. David walks us to the docks, Benjamin and Patience trailing behind.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” he says, standing far too close to Jamal for my comfort.
“I’m not running away, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jamal says.
“Mmm.” David folds his arms with a stupid grin on his face. “Then maybe you can walk away, and I’ll stand here and watch.”
To my dismay, Jamal’s cheeks darken with a deep blush. “Careful, David,” he says with a playful cadence. “Hondo is about two seconds away from caving your face in with his fists. Come, Hondo. Before you and Benjamin have to kill each other. Enjoy the show, David.”
David winks. “I will.”
Back inside the Seajack, I immediately take the helm and prepare the vessel for departure.
“What are you doing?” Jamal says, coming to stand behind me.
A drone fills the cabin as the newly charged batteries come online. “Getting us the fuck out of here.”
“What? Don’t be a fool, Hondo. They’ll blow us to bits.”
I don’t stop. In a minute we’ll be leaving the docks, and I’ll dive as deep as the omni can go. “They won’t. David said we could go if we wanted to, and I’m not letting you spend another second in this place.”
“Hondo, I’m not leaving.”
I glare at him over my shoulder. “Are you crazy? You’re not actually considering his proposal, are you?”
Jamal regards me like he’s caught between two difficult choices. “David has a point,” he says at length. “There’s only so much I can do from a terminal, but with his help, we can bring real change to the world.”
Knowing I won’t win this argument, I slump in my seat, feeling drained. “Unbelievable.”
“I’m sorry, but this is what I want,” Jamal quietly says, though the words are laden with meaning. He’s not just talking about David’s help.
“You can’t be serious,” I say. “It’s David, Jamal. You used to call him a hypocrite, a puppet. You said he wasn’t worth the dust beneath my shoes! Not to mention how he tried to get us recycled. We hate him, remember?”
“Yes, but that was then, and this is now.”
“That’s how time generally works. It’s linear. It moves forward. But David is still David. He’s still an asshole.”
“And he’s still stupidly attractive,” Jamal says in a drawl. “Except now I don’t have to feel guilty for wanting to get railed by his—”
“Don’t,” I say, “finish that sentence.” I rub my temples with my fingers, grimacing at the imagery. “For fuck’s sake, Jamal. I can’t even look at you right now.”
“Oh, grow up.” Jamal’s voice retreats from me as he heads aft of the cabin. “I never said anything about your little infatuation with Nandipa, did I?”
“So you’re infatuated with him, are you?”
“Of course not,” he calls. “Now turn off the engines and stop behaving like a child.”
Ugh. David. Everything about him irks me. Him and Benjamin both. Their smugness. The way they think they should be in charge of everything. The way David got angry at us for daring to survive and beat him at his own game. I don’t think of myself as vindictive, but I won’t ever let that go. I’ll never like him, no matter what Jamal says.
But he’s the boss here, so I turn off the engines and find refuge in the lines of my sketchpad.
CHAPTER 20:
NANDIPA
Retracing Mnisi’s steps through the Nzuko to find out where Counselor might be hiding is like trying to find a rock in an asteroid belt. The number of people to watch grows exponentially with every new contact he interacts with, because then I have to trace those contacts, too, and whoever they interact with, and so on.
I have few parameters to refine my search, so I let my instincts guide me through the widening web of contacts, following anyone who even slightly raises my suspicion. After three days spent in a locked office at Int-Sec HQ, hidden away from the eyes of a prying Angelique, I narrow down the possibilities to five different locations.
The first is a church in the Jondolos. From a jollof restaurant a block away, I deploy a stealthy spider drone to infiltrate and scout the building, watching the drone’s feed on a tablet. The drone discovers a cache of guns and ammo hidden in a secret room behind a bookshelf but nothing else. Radio frequency scanning reveals no other hidden chambers. I rule the church out and return to HQ.
The next day I lose Angelique’s tail and drop my spider drone as I walk past a launderette in a bronze-tier district. The drone skitters inside and crawls unseen along a wall, sending me its camera feed. There are more guns hidden in the back room, which doesn’t surprise me. I’m beginning to think that whoever these people are, they have stashes of weapons and ammunition hidden all over the city. There’s no sign of Counselor, so I leave, marking the launderette as a point of future interest.
The third location is a large section of interstellar ship rusting away in the eastern outskirts of the city, deeper inland and close to the spaceport. Ostensibly it was converted into a hostel for freight handlers and other employees of the spaceport but was abandoned some years ago when more permanent accommodations were built. A delivery drone spotted one of Mnisi’s contacts in the vicinity, so I’m almost certain there’s something more to the ship than meets the eye.
I park my aerial car within sight of the ship’s stationary hulk. Out the windows on the passenger side, ZimbaTech’s skyline is a haze shrouded in the morning’s fog. On the driver’s side the farmlands that stretch away from the city’s boundaries are visible as a line of green on the horizon.
I open my door just wide enough to let out the spider drone, then send it crawling toward the ship. The structure is only a small section of a much larger vessel, but it still boasts the height and width of a five-story apartment block. The spider drone scurries up the rusted hull on the side facing me and crawls in through a broken window. I’ve barely made out what’s in the room when there’s a shout, and then the camera feed goes dark.
Shit. No use being stealthy about it now. I put on my helmet and get out of the car, pulling my gun out as I make a beeline for the ship. Five different minds brush against my senses when I get close enough, and I almost stumble to a stop.
