The Dyson File, page 20
“Argo Division?” Isaac asked. “Why’s the patrol fleet involved? I thought Damphart was on a kidnapping case.”
“She still is, but the case has turned into a huge goddamned mess. Did you know PlayTech has a product development center near the bottom of the Second Engine Block?”
“No. What does that have to do with missing kids?”
“Because they’ve been working on this new toy called a fuzzle. Picture a colorful teddy bear and you’re not too far off from what they look like. They’re being packaged with nonsentient intelligence and modest self-replicating abilities. At least, they’re supposed to be modest. Apparently, the company dumped one of their test failures into a reclamation pit without disabling it properly, and once there, it started scavenging for materials to make more. Now the damn things are replicating out of control and yanking people right off the streets.”
“Wait a second,” Isaac said. “You’re telling me these fuzzles are the kidnappers?”
“I didn’t believe it myself until I came down here. At first it was just kids, but now these things will grab anyone they can get their furry paws on. Care to wager how this is playing out in the media? ‘SysPol unable to defend the people of Janus from a bunch of broken toys.’”
“That’s not a good look.”
“Which is why Arete and Argo are involved now. They’re bringing in the heavy equipment so we can burn this infestation out of the walls, but we still don’t know where most of the missing people are.”
“Sounds like quite the mess.”
“You sure you aren’t close to wrapping up that suicide?”
“I’d tell you if we were.”
“Yeah,” Raviv sighed. “I know. You two keep at it, though I’m not going to say no if you manage to break away soon. I wish you better luck than we’ve had, at least.”
“Thanks, boss.”
Raviv closed the connection.
“Fuzzles, huh?” Susan asked with a half-smile. “Toys kidnapping kids.”
Isaac let out a low whistle. “Be glad that’s not our case.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Susan trudged into her room in the Plume Tower, which was decorated with an assortment of abstract and physical artwork tied together with a fire theme: paintings of stars and nebulas, a glowing vase that changed shapes and hues like a flame burning in slow motion, and the abstract image of a crackling fireplace, which cast a virtual sensation of heat over her skin. The walls were a smoky gray, and the lighter gray carpet was patterned into flagstone shapes.
She took off her peaked cap, tossed it onto an iron table and let out a long, tired sigh, then brushed fingers through her hair until her fingertips came to rest on the back of her neck.
“What a day,” she breathed, making her way into the bedroom. Her small travel case sat on the nightstand next to the bed, and she opened it and rummaged around for a T-shirt and shorts.
She stripped off her uniform, folded it onto the bed, and initiated its autocleaning cycle, then stepped into the bathroom. She set her hands on either side of the sink and gazed into the mirror, not truly seeing her own reflection. Instead, her imagination conjured people and places on its own accord: Trooper Parks and his timid demeanor, Xian’s sense of indignity at being forced to speak with her, Ruckman’s initial outburst upon learning she was from the Admin, even Nautila’s lack of grace with a fellow synthoid.
All of those had happened because she’d been present.
“Am I slowing him down?” she wondered aloud.
She didn’t have an answer to that. She didn’t believe her presence was a burden to Isaac, but then again, it seemed like her presence caused unnecessary—and unhelpful—friction with every other person they met. That couldn’t be making his job any easier.
Resentment for the Admin didn’t bother her. Not alone. Not really. If anything, it was worse back home where centuries of fomenting tension between the central government and the states under its control would bubble up with little notice, often in violent terrorist attacks.
Here in SysGov, the prejudices were fresher and less severe, often stemming from the newness of SysGov’s relationship with the Admin. That, and people’s ignorance about how their multiverse neighbor conducted business on the other side of the transverse, as well as why laws and enforcement were so different over there. People here lacked perspective on the Admin’s history, which was only natural. A problem time and exposure could solve.
So, no. The resentment by itself didn’t bother her, but if her presence became a burden to Isaac, well . . . that was a whole other matter.
Maybe she wasn’t hindering his progress, but simply staying out of his way wasn’t enough. What was the point of her serving as his deputy if she wasn’t helping him? At least a little. Sure, she could act as a bullet sponge from time to time—and had—but was that really enough to warrant her presence? They were detectives, not frontline combatants, and she needed to contribute accordingly.
That’s why she’d suggested splitting up for some of the day’s tasks, with her taking the trip to SourceCode; but Isaac’s questions afterward had only served to demonstrate her own shortcomings, even if he’d delivered his criticism softly. Nothing harsher was necessary because Susan knew her investigative instincts lagged far behind his own.
Trooper Randal Parks and his persistent caginess was another sore spot, though it was more about what his attitude represented. Themis Division depended greatly on the personnel and resources of local police, and Parks represented a burr in the cogs of that relationship, a sure sign she couldn’t depend upon cooperation from virtual members of the Saturn State Police. She’d tried, awkwardly perhaps, to broach a conversation with the AC, but had only succeeded in causing the man to clam up further.
All in all, not her finest day on the new job.
Susan pushed off the sink, walked into the shower, and switched it on. Scalding water poured over her, and she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the wall. Thoughts continued to swirl through her mind as the relaxing stream of water ran down her body.
She had no desire to be a stone around Isaac’s neck, dragging him down with her dead weight.
So, what was she going to do about it?
What could she do?
She didn’t understand why her superiors had chosen her for the officer exchange program, and for the first slot at that! She seemed like a terrible choice, in her own judgment. Why didn’t they pick someone who embodied—for lack of a better term—the “softer” side of the Admin? Why pick her?
Not that she resented their selection of her. Far from it. She questioned their reasoning, but in the same breath she was grateful for the opportunity. There wasn’t anything quite like experiencing another culture firsthand, and she doubted she’d ever grow tired of SysGov’s quirks.
Minus the friction, of course.
She switched off the shower, dried herself off, and slipped on the black T-shirt and shorts. The artshirt was a souvenir from her first case together with Isaac, and it featured an animated image of Natli Klynn from Solar Descent. The blue-skinned woman floated within a flaming aura, wearing a too-tight bodysuit partially unzipped in the front. The words HOT DATE floated above her.
For some reason, the ridiculousness of the image brought a smile to her face.
She finished drying her hair, then tossed the towel aside and sat down on the edge of the bed, forearms resting behind her knees. She pondered ordering some ice cream or other dessert to cheer herself up but doubted it would work this time.
She frowned at the floor, then sat up and opened a comm window.
It didn’t take long for Isaac to respond.
“Yes?”
“You awake?” Susan asked.
“Umm . . . yes?”
“I mean, are you about to turn in for the night? I’m not interrupting you, am I?”
“No, not at all. I’m up in the hotel restaurant having a bite to eat. Why? Something on your mind?”
“You could say that. Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right up.”
* * *
The restaurant at the top of Plume Tower was called Thrusters, and its decor continued the hotel’s fire themes with flame-shaped lighting and a real cooking hearth in the center of the restaurant. A trio of chefs prepared meals seared in the flames of real wooden logs, their black uniforms featuring animated flames that danced up their sleeves. A transparent chamber next to the hearth contained a varied selection of meats being smoked.
Susan glanced around the restaurant, then caught Isaac’s raised hand near one corner. She threaded her way through the tables and sat down opposite him.
“Not wearing your uniform tonight?” Isaac asked with a raised eyebrow. He’d changed into a black suit with a dynamic scarf adorned in purple runes that pulsated with arcane power.
“It’s off-duty casual tonight,” Susan replied with a smile, plucking at her artshirt.
“I can see that.”
“What are you having?”
“Hixon Vodka. I decided I deserved a little splurge after today.” He took a sip, sighed, and set the glass down next to his half-finished salad.
“Worth it?”
“I’m not sure. I know this is fermented from real potatoes and grains from Old Frontier, but I can hardly tell the difference from my usual. Except perhaps a hint of increased complexity in the aftertaste.”
“Feeling any better?”
“Getting there. I’ve reached the ‘mildly mellow’ stage.” He spun the glass in place one way, then the other, creating a mild swirl of clear liquid. “And I intend to become even more mellow before the night is over.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Want to try some? I could order you a glass.”
“No thanks. Straight vodka really isn’t my thing. I prefer sweeter drinks.”
“Well, they have those, too.” Isaac passed her an abstract drink menu.
“Oh, now that’s more like it.” She entered an order for a chocolate martini then looked up to find Isaac’s gaze centered over her shoulder. She twisted around to see what was behind her.
A news feed from the Saturn Herald took up half the far wall with a well-dressed reporter performing citizen-on-the-street interviews. The location was listed as the Second Engine Block, and the news ticker read: POLICE STUMPED BY . . . ROGUE TOYS?
“Anything good?” she asked.
“Only if you like seeing SysPol used as a punching bag. I caught a glimpse of Raviv a few minutes ago.”
“How’d he look?”
“On edge.”
“His usual, then?”
“More or less. He was doing his best to shield Damphart from a persistent field reporter.”
The view switched to a silvery orb descending through Saturn’s atmosphere. The ticker changed to: ARGO DIVISION CRUISER ARRIVES AT JANUS.
“Argo must really mean business if they’re bringing in a Directive-class,” Isaac said. “Either that, or they’re putting on the best show they can. That ship’s the Toyoda, by the way.”
“Named after President Yoshi Toyoda, I assume?”
“Oh?” Isaac sat up a little straighter and cracked a smile. “I’m surprised you knew that.”
“I’ve been briefed on SysPol’s warships.”
His smile vanished. “Susan, please. SysPol doesn’t have warships.”
“Then what do you call that monstrosity?”
“An ‘emergency reinforcement cruiser.’”
“Which is a fancy way of not calling a warship a warship.”
“We’re a police force, not a military.”
“You could fit all of Atlas HQ inside that beast.”
“Size isn’t everything,” he pointed out.
“It is when you stuff it full of nukes and capital lasers.”
“The Toyoda’s not packing that kind of firepower.”
“But it could.”
“It could,” he admitted.
“And some of them did, back during the Dynasty Crisis.”
“They did.”
“Which then makes it a warship.”
“I . . . think we should just agree to disagree on this one.”
“All right,” Susan said, then chuckled.
“What?”
“Just thinking about those kidnappings. Argo Division is bringing over the biggest, baddest ship in their arsenal. A ship so powerful, it keeps my superiors awake at night. And they’re going to use it to clear out an infestation of malfunctioning toys.”
“Whatever makes people happy, I suppose.” Isaac took another sip from his vodka. “Ahhh.”
A waiter delivered her chocolate martini. She transferred an Esteem tip to him, and he nodded and left.
She breathed in the aroma, then took a generous sip from the martini. The biochemical simulator attached to her connectome detected the alcohol and produced a mild wave of warmth and coziness through her body. She could switch off the effect at any time.
“That’s nice,” she sighed with a blissful smile.
“So, what’s on your mind?” Isaac asked her.
“Work. What else?”
“Anything in particular?”
“I guess.” She leaned forward, an arm on the table. “Let me ask you a direct question, Isaac. Is my presence here . . . helpful?”
“Of course, it is,” he said, too fast to have given his answer any thought.
“No, I mean it. Am I making your job harder?”
“What brought this on?”
“Just thinking about the case. I guess I feel like I’m not pulling my weight.”
“Susan. You took two bullets for me today. My squishy insides call that contributing!”
“Yeah, but any partner with a synthoid body could have done that.”
“So? You were the one at my side in that moment, and you’re the one who recognized the danger first.”
“Okay, but what about the rest of our jobs?”
“What about it?”
“I made a ton of mistakes at SourceCode, and every other person we run into doesn’t trust me because I’m Admin.”
“So?”
She blinked, surprised by how dismissive he seemed of what were—to her—massive problems.
“Well,” she continued at last, “that’s not helpful.”
“So?”
“I want to help solve our cases. I want to contribute.”
“You do.”
“Well, it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like my lack of experience—and my background—are making this case harder for you. I don’t want to be the one dragging you down and causing you trouble.”
“Susan.” He sat forward in the booth. “Between the two of us, we both know who has the most training and experience when it comes to detective work.”
“You do.”
“But if you think that means you’re not contributing, then please, allow me to put those fears to rest.” He paused to think, then gestured to her with an open hand. “Would you consider us a team?”
“Sure.”
“And, in your opinion, which kind of team is better? One where every member shares the same strengths and weaknesses? Or one where the strengths of one can cover for the weaknesses of another?”
“I get the impression you want me to say the second.”
“Because I believe that’s the better of the two, especially in a place like Themis. Teams like that are stronger in a wider range of situations.”
“But the first type is more specialized.”
“Perhaps, but it’s also less adaptable. Consider our department as a whole for the moment. I may understand how to run an investigation, but I don’t have anywhere near Nina’s eye for forensic evidence, nor can I navigate abstract spaces as well as Cephalie. Or keep a department from falling into pure chaos the way Raviv does. And like all those people, you too contribute in meaningful ways.”
“Well, I do make an effective meat shield, from time to time—minus the ‘meat,’ of course.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” Her mood had improved, and she found herself enjoying this little morale-booster of a conversation.
“Certainly, your abilities in both of your bodies have been a huge help,” Isaac clarified, “but what I’m referring to is your outside perspective. A perspective that can sometimes lead you to see connections or possibilities or ask questions I might otherwise have missed. It doesn’t come up all the time, which is to be expected. Most problems can be solved with the standard, methodical approaches I’m good at. But when your unique insights hit on something I’ve missed, it’s invaluable.”
She grinned at him.
“Feel any better?” he asked.
“Lots better.”
“Good. Don’t be too hard on yourself, all right? And don’t let a few troublemakers get to you. Everyone who’s actually worked with you knows better. Sure, you’re still feeling your way around this new role of yours, but never doubt for a moment you have my confidence and respect.”
“As more than just a sturdy meat shield?”
“Susan, please.” He chuckled. “You’re way more than a meat shield to me. You’re my partner, and I’m glad to have you by my side.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She grinned and lifted her martini.
Isaac brought up his own drink, and they clinked their glasses together.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“What is it with you and this case?” Nina asked the next morning, bags under her eyes and hair slightly unkempt. She dropped into the seat across from Isaac and propped her boots up on the next chair over.
“What do you mean?” Isaac asked, a spoonful of oatmeal halfway to his mouth. He and Susan had stopped by Thrusters for a quick bite to eat before they headed for the 103rd Precinct Building.
“Every time I think I’m about to catch up,” Nina said, “you plop another location into my queue.”
“You okay?” Susan asked, picking at her bowl of sliced fruit. “You look a little . . . haggard.”
