The Dyson File, page 14
“And you believe Ruckman may have been involved?”
“It’s a possibility. We’re not willing to say more at this time.”
“Do you know where he is? Or how SysPol can get ahold of him?”
“Let me see what we have.” Xian opened another screen and perused its contents. “Here we are. Seems he transmitted down to Janus-Epimetheus after he was fired. Final destination is listed as Breathless Ridge, right off the Third Engine Block.”
“The Third Engine Block, huh?”
“The destination makes sense for Ruckman. He often took time off to visit the Ridge, as do a few other members of our team, myself included. It’s a popular vacation resort. Also, here’s his connection string, as requested.”
“Thank you.” Susan copied the code to the case log. She glanced over her list of questions, but the information Xian had provided made most of them unnecessary, and those that weren’t seemed less interesting than the Ruckman lead.
The interview might have gotten off to a rocky start, what with Xian’s attitude, but she’d pushed through the hostility and even picked up information on a possible lead. All in all, not a bad trip.
How would Isaac close this out? she thought. Ah, of course.
“Anything else to add before I leave?” she inquired, standing. “Anything you believe might benefit our investigation?”
“Just one thing.” Xian stood up as well.
“And that is?”
“Don’t bother flying out here again. The less time I need to be near a barbarian like you, the better.”
Susan’s jaw tensed, and the two of them glared at each other. She contemplated saying something—wanted to take Xian down a peg, if only a little—but no retort came to mind. At least nothing that wouldn’t reflect poorly on both herself and the Admin. Instead, she let out a quick, grunting exhale, turned sharply on her heel, and marched back to her V-wing.
CHAPTER TEN
Isaac’s rental drove into the Dream Lodge’s parking lot and parked next to the SSP quadcopter. He climbed out of the vehicle, nodded to the waiting troopers, and surveyed his immediate surroundings.
The Dream Lodge was a synthoid capsule apartment, intended as cheap housing for physical citizens who wanted a convenient place to stash their bodies at night, and not a whole lot more. It rose from the base of Shelf Two, its many coffin-like capsules stacked in a haphazard cylinder with a grav tube providing transportation up through the hollow core. Each capsule was a different color from its immediate neighbors, painting the Lodge in a variety of soft pastels while puffy, abstract clouds circled the building.
The Dream Lodge was nestled between two larger, more upscale apartment complexes, while a variety of shops and restaurants lined the opposite side of the street. His eyes passed over a Meal Spigot franchise, and his stomach grumbled at him.
He stepped over to a pair of troopers, the LENS floating a pace behind him. A synthoid with sergeant’s stripes pushed off the copter and joined him. Her synthoid featured purple skin, pink hair, and orange eyes with ears that ended in subtle points.
“Good day, Detective.” She extended a hand, which Isaac shook. “I’m Sergeant Renaut from the One-Twelve. Themis Dispatch sent us over here looking for this Fike character.”
“Nice to meet you, Sergeant. What do you have for me?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. We talked with the apartment staff but didn’t learn anything useful. None of them recognized Fike, but that’s not surprising. This place uses a lot of automation. The staff did give us the keycode to his apartment, but no one was home. We went ahead and put a cordon around the capsule. Figured you’d want to look at it yourself.”
“I do, thanks.”
Renaut held out her hand, and Isaac copied the offered keycode.
“Mind sharing with us what this is about?” Renaut asked.
“I want to talk with Fike regarding a suicide I’m investigating. I gave him a call earlier today to set up a routine interview, but he refused to meet in person then abruptly closed the call when I pressed him on the matter.”
“That smells.”
“I thought so as well.”
“You want us to stick around?” She patted the side of the copter. “Or are we free to head out?”
“Let me check out the apartment first. Maybe my LENS will find something interesting. I shouldn’t be long.”
“Will do. We’ll be right here when you come back.”
Isaac provided the keycode to the apartment’s infostructure, and a guidance arrow appeared in his virtual vision. He followed it down a sidewalk that cut through the well-trimmed lawn and into the building’s interior, passing through a tall arch made to resemble a cloud. He stepped onto a circular platform in the center of the apartment and provided Fike’s keycode once more. Gravitons whisked him halfway up the building and deposited him on a circular platform with a hole in the center, lined with a railing most of the way around.
The arrow turned into a pulsing beacon next to a capsule hatch already marked by virtual police tape.
“Cephalie?” Isaac asked, crouching beside the hatch.
The LENS floated to his side, and his IC appeared standing atop it.
“Mind performing a basic forensic pass?”
“You’ve got it.”
The LENS formed a silvery pseudopod out of its prog-steel shell and eased the hatch open. A soft yellow light illuminated the interior, which included a prog-foam mattress, recharging terminal, and a storage locker that could be pulled outside via a pair of rails.
The LENS slid the locker out and opened it.
“Empty,” Isaac groused.
The LENS hovered into the capsule interior and extended a dozen delicate pseudopods, passing them over key surfaces. Isaac pushed off his knee, stood up, and waited for Cephalie to finish.
It took a little over ten minutes.
The LENS floated out and rose to his side.
“Anything?” Isaac asked.
“Not much physically.” Cephalie appeared atop the LENS and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I found a film of cleaning microbots on most surfaces. Either Fike’s a stickler for hygiene or this capsule hasn’t seen much—if any—use since the last time the apartment staff scrubbed it down.”
“What about the infostructure?”
“That part is a little more interesting. A modest amount of data has been passing through this capsule, but nothing’s been processed locally as far as I can tell. Just lots and lots of forwarded data packets, most of them for calls. If you ask me, all Fike did was set up his connection string to route through this capsule.”
“Making it appear as his location at first glance,” Isaac surmised. “I’m not surprised. A capsule apartment didn’t strike me as a good fit for a Preservation Society chairman.”
“Never mind the fact that he’s organic.”
“He is?”
“I checked with Citizen Services on our way over. He hasn’t transitioned.”
“Then that makes this place an even weirder choice.”
“If he ever used it at all.”
“Right. Any idea where the calls are being routed to?”
“Somewhere in the Breathless Ridge, which is part of the Third Engine Block’s Starboard Intake District.” She waggled her eyebrows at him. “It’s a nudist zone.”
“Great,” he sighed. “Does Fike own or rent any addresses out there?”
“Not according to his Citizen Service’s file.”
“What about the Society?”
“Let’s see . . . ” A chalkboard appeared next to Cephalie, and lines of text sped down it before halting. “They do have one site. It’s listed as a general-purpose storage location.”
“All the way out in the Intake District? That doesn’t seem right.”
“Wondering if Fike might be there?”
“Or perhaps was there recently.”
* * *
The rental drove down a congested highway that ran along the city floor with the shelves towering to the right. Traffic boxed in the car on all sides as it sped for the Breathless Ridge, snaking its way into the inner lanes.
Isaac opened his Meal Spigot to-go box and breathed in the greasy aroma. The box contained a loaded pizza roll with a side of potato wedges and garlic-butter dip, along with a small bottle of the Spigot’s Tongue Melter hot sauce. He twisted off the top, partially unrolled the pizza, and proceeded to lather its insides with delicious heat before closing it up again.
He picked up the reassembled roll, which oozed hot sauce out the bottom, brought it up to his lips—
—and paused when an incoming message blinked in his periphery.
“Of course,” he sighed, setting the roll down.
He answered the call, and Nina appeared in a comm window, looking perkier than he’d expected.
“Hey, Isaac.”
“Hey. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you for a while. You get some rest?”
“A little. Kronos called and woke me up.”
“They could have called me.”
“Yeah, well, Cephalie attached my name to the search warrant, so I got the call.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Forget it. Besides, I was having trouble sleeping anyway. Might as well just power on through, you know?” She tilted her head to the side. “Hey, you eating from the Spigot?”
“I am.” He hefted the box. “The munchies hit, so I grabbed a Pizza Roll To-Go box.”
“You pick up enough for everyone?” she teased.
“I . . . didn’t know I was supposed to.”
“Come on, Isaac. You should know by now I never turn down an excuse to eat from the Spigot. Plus, Susan enjoyed it last time we took her to one.”
“Susan’s not here, and I’m driving away from the hotel.”
“So? You can turn that car around for a little detour, can’t you?”
He frowned at her, but then made a production out of placing a potato wedge in his mouth. He chewed slowly, with exaggerated jaw motions, then swallowed.
“Oh, now you’re just rubbing it in my face.”
“You’re the one who called me.”
“Right. About that.” Nina sighed, suddenly all business again. “Kronos dumped some bad news in my lap. We’ve got a problem.”
“Don’t we always.”
“Yeah, but I doubt either of us saw this one coming. Atlas is contesting the search warrant in court. Their lawyers are citing irreparable harm to their business model via exposure of company secrets.”
“That’s . . . unexpected. You think they have a point?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? We don’t really know what we’re looking for in their infostructure, so the warrant is broad.”
“Then it sounds like they’re exercising their legal rights.”
“But doesn’t this seem shady to you?” Nina asked. “Them pushing back against a search warrant after one of their engineers blows his own brains out?”
“Perhaps. It is curious, if nothing else. Who’s behind the delay?”
“Their CEO, Julian Boaz. I’m going to work with our legal team to narrow the scope of our search. Hopefully, we can come up with a compromise Atlas will accept. If not . . . ”
“It’ll be up to the judge,” Isaac finished. “I understand.”
* * *
Harsh acceleration pressed Susan deep into the V-wing’s seat, but her synthoid’s superhuman strength reduced the experience to little more than a nuisance. An empty comm window floated beside her, connection string entered and ready, though she hesitated to place the call.
Her thoughts fell back to the meeting with the SourceCode executive and how confrontational it had been, how she’d let Xian guide the conversation rather than the other way around.
Isaac would have handled that much better, she thought. And he’d have made it look easy.
She’d suggested splitting up because she yearned for opportunities to demonstrate what she could do, how she could contribute.
Beyond shooting up the occasional threat, of course.
In a way, she’d achieved her goal. Xian had provided a possible connection to the Velasco case, and she’d acquired the information herself, freeing Isaac to pursue a separate lead. Now all she had to do was pass on the information to Isaac and consult with him on their next move.
But she was hesitant to place the call, conscious of how she’d underperformed against her own expectations. She didn’t believe she’d done a bad job at SourceCode; rather, it was a case of her not doing a good enough job that bothered her.
“Live and learn,” she murmured, then started the call.
Isaac appeared in the comm window with what looked like a rolled-up pizza in his hands, sauce dripping out of the back into a box on his lap.
“Esh,” he mumbled around a bite of the pizza. He swallowed and set the roll down. “Hey, Susan.”
“Sorry. Am I interrupting?”
“Not really. Just having a bite on the way to my next stop. You finished at SourceCode?”
“Yeah. I’m on my way back to Janus.”
“Making good time, I see. How’d it go?”
“It . . . ” She paused, a subtle frown leaking onto her face. “It went. Did you know most SourceCode employees are abstract?”
“No. I’ve never dealt with them before. Why? Did they give you a hard time?”
“You could say that.”
“Because you’re from the Admin?”
“Yeah, that was definitely a source of friction.”
“Anything we should be concerned about?”
“I don’t think so. There was just more head-butting than I expected.”
“Sorry about that. I should have checked SourceCode out before sending you there alone.”
“It’s all right. I handled it.” She flashed a slim smile. “And I have some information I think you’ll find interesting. SourceCode suspects their latest trial was sabotaged.”
“Really?” Isaac sat back in thought. “Beyond Ruckman screwing up?”
“Yes.”
“They haven’t mentioned this in public.”
“That’s because they don’t have any evidence. They’re conducting an internal investigation. So far all they have are theories.”
“Which point where? To the Society?”
“Actually, toward Ruckman. Seems he was sloppy with his security clearance. Perhaps on purpose.”
“That certainly puts his firing into perspective.”
“They gave me his connection string and his last known location. He transmitted from SourceCode down to Janus. To a part of the Third Engine Block called Breathless Ridge.”
“Breathless Ridge?” Isaac repeated, his eyes lighting up. “Interesting. I’m on my way to the Ridge now. In fact, I’m heading to a Society property there. The chair of the local chapter, a man named Desmond Fike, seemed unusually reluctant to speak with me, which is one reason I want to check out the property. SSP is keeping an eye on the place until I get there.”
“You think there’s a connection between Ruckman and the Society?”
“Maybe.” He paused, then gave her a small shrug. “Could also be a coincidence. The Ridge is a big place.”
“What’s next for us? Meet up over at the Ridge?”
“Yeah, let’s do that. I can pick you up at the airport.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She opened her nav window and entered the new destination. “Done. I should be there in about an hour.”
“Anything else crop up from your visit to SourceCode?”
“No, that’s it. Just the Ruckman angle.”
“What’d they say about Pangu leaving them for Atlas?”
“They . . . ”
Shit, she chided herself.
“Susan?”
“I forgot to ask them.”
“Oh. I see.”
Susan sensed he was holding back more critical words, perhaps in an attempt to soften the blow, but that only made her oversight stand out more.
“Well, it was probably just corporate shenanigans like Boaz said,” Isaac continued. “What about the university connection between Velasco and Ruckman? Anything there?”
God damn it! she thought.
“I . . . didn’t ask about that either.”
“You didn’t?” Now he sounded mildly annoyed. “But that’s—”
“I’ll give their exec a follow-up call. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
“That . . . ” He paused, then nodded slowly. “Okay. Sounds good. Just try to be more thorough in the future.”
“I will.” Again, she sensed him holding back harsher words.
“Let me know if the call turns up anything interesting. Otherwise, I’ll see you at the airport.”
“Sure thing. See you there.”
“By the way, did they tell you anything about the Breathless Ridge?”
“Only that it’s a popular place for their employees to spend their time off.”
“That’s because the people there are nudists.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Oh dear.”
“Yeah.” Isaac gave the notion a little shake of his head. “Be sure to grab two pressure suits from the V-wing’s equipment locker. It’ll make getting around the Ridge easier.”
“Okay. I’ll bring them.”
“See you at the airport.”
“See you.”
She closed the call and settled back into her seat. She was about to punch up Xian when a thought came to her.
“Wait a second,” she said out loud. “Why am I bringing pressure suits to a see a bunch of nudists?!”
* * *
Breathless Ridge was not what Susan had expected.
She began to sense the nature of her misconception shortly after landing at the airport, located on the lower lip of the Third Engine Block’s starboard air intake. The people passing through the airport weren’t nude. At least, not in a conventional sense, though most had eschewed the use of clothing.
But instead of lots of naked flesh, she encountered synthoids in a variety of shapes, colors, and styles. Most adhered to a traditional humanoid form, though with flamboyant skin tones such as ruby, chrome, and . . . orange with lime stripes? A handful of exceptions walked on four legs or utilized extra arms, often with more muted exteriors. One man (or men) possessed two heads arguing with each other, so perhaps there were two connectomes inhabiting that synthoid?
