Minder Rising: Central Galactic Concordance Book 2 Read online

  “Who?” asked Lièrén.

  “Legendary forecaster.” Lièrén looked miserable. She was torn between shaking some sense into him and pulling him into her arms. Rayle looked as conflicted as she did. The tension in the room was tangible.

  “Mom, I’m hungry.”

  And with Derrit’s complaint, the tension eased. Chaos might rule her life at the moment, but growing boys were ruled by their stomachs.

  Rayle put the multi-tool down on a table and wiped his hands of the dust a couple of times. “Come on, kiddo, let’s clean up and raid the kitchen.” He sidled closer to him conspiratorially. “I know where they hide the good stuff.”

  Derrit looked intrigued. Thank Neptune for her son’s resiliency, and for Rayle’s sensitivity. She watched them leave, then turned to Lièrén.

  His head was down, shoulders hunched, and his free hand was in his pocket. She couldn’t tell if tonight’s drama was responsible for his visible unease, or if he’d just hidden it better in the past.

  He looked up to meet her gaze. “Please understand there are things in my life I regret, but teaching Derrit will never be one of them. I know he’s formed an attachment to me. I am humbled by it, and hold him in high regard, but… would you prefer I leave now, before he gets back?”

  She sighed, and an errant coil of her hair tickled her face. “I don’t know if there’s a right answer to that.” She removed her hair clip, felt for and gathered all the stray coils of hair that had escaped, then secured them with the clip again. “He was strong enough when he was five to say goodbye to his father, but he had nightmares about medical centers for months. He’s older now, and you’re not his father. And you’re not dying, you’re just leaving.” Like transients always, always did, she reminded herself. “What do you want to do?”

  He started to say something, then clamped his mouth shut and looked away. “I’d like to say goodbye to him.”

  She didn’t need wayward talents to sense the discipline he was exerting over himself.

  “All right,” she said warily. However much she liked him, she was prepared to hurt the man if he made promises to her son he couldn’t keep.

  He put the pry bar next to the other tools. “I know you don’t believe what I said about your minder talents…”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “Actually, I do believe you. It explains… weird stuff I’ve been noticing.” Not elegantly phrased, but she didn’t know how to describe it any better.

  He quirked a brief smile. “Good, because that means you can start learning to use them. Get Derrit to teach you shielding, because it’ll give you time to work on the others. Only work with people you really trust, like Rayle. Right now, you’re vulnerable.”

  “I know, I know.” She knew she had to deal with her new talents, but she didn’t have to like it. She had her hands full with two jobs, putting food on the table, and raising a kid on her own. She didn’t have time to contemplate her navel, or whatever it was going to take.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Since I’m imposing on you with unsolicited advice, two more things. First, most polymaths find it hard to stay focused because they have input streams coming in from all their physical senses and talents. You already cope extraordinarily well, from what I’ve seen.”

  “Thank you, I think.” She wasn’t sure she wanted him to remember her for her coping skills. “Have you known many other polymaths?”

  He shrugged. “A few. Second, you should look up ‘mental mesh.’ It will help you understand why you… get along with some people better than others.”

  She gave him an amused smile. “You mean beyond the fact that some people are nice and some are húndàn?” Thanks to her road-crew coworkers and her perfect memory, she could call someone an asshole in dozens of languages besides Mandarin.

  “Yes,” he said, matching her smile, but it faded quickly. He eyed the clock, then surveyed the bar. “Is there anything else to do here, or may we join Derrit and Rayle?”

  She glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly eleven, the end of her shift, and much later than Lièrén usually stayed. There was plenty she could still do, but no need to do it right then. She knew she’d be glad tomorrow to have something to keep her busy. “Let’s go see if they’ve set the kitchen on fire yet.”

  He blinked in surprise, drawing a chuckle from her. He really wasn’t at all domesticated. It only reinforced her opinion that whatever he did in the CPS Minder Corps, it wasn’t ordinary office work.

  Fortunately, the kitchen was none the worse for wear. Rayle, wrapped in an overly large apron, had affected an outrageously bad French accent while instructing a giggling Derrit how to properly plate and garnish flash-grilled sandwiches.

  “Vous êtes arrivé just in time,” Rayle announced. “What would la dame et le monsieur care for on their culinary creations?” He waved the tongs toward the sideboard, where meats, cheeses, and vegetables were arranged.

  “Ham and Swiss with red mustard,” said Imara, because it was quick. Now that she was smelling food, her stomach was growling.

  “Thank you, but nothing for me,” said Lièrén. “I can’t stay any longer.”

  Rayle pulled a hot sandwich out of the griller and plated it, then wiped his hands on his apron. He put his right hand on his heart and gave a little bow. “It’s been an honor to serve you, Field Agent Lièrén Sòng.”

  Lièrén returned the bow. “It was an honor to see you dance.”

  Imara smiled. It was the perfect thing to say to Rayle. “Safe travels,” she said. “The CPS is lucky to have you.”

  “Your son is lucky to have you for a mother.” He turned to Derrit. “I’m glad I was able to open a door for you, Master Derrit. I hope you are as patient with future teachers as you have been with me.”

  He gave them all a warm, sincere smile. “I am grateful for the kindness you’ve shown me in these past weeks, and it has been a pleasure getting to know you.” He bowed respectfully to each of them in turn. “May your friendship for one another last a lifetime.”

  Derrit did what she didn’t have the courage to do, and launched himself into Lièrén’s arms to wrap him in a tight hug. “Thanks for everything, Agent Sòng.” Derrit stepped back.

  “You’re welcome,” Lièrén said with a smile. He gave them one last look, then turned and headed for the hallway that would take him to the hotel.

  “Ping us if you can,” Derrit called after him.

  Lièrén waved, but didn’t turn around, and with that, he was gone.

  Imara hoped Derrit knew better than to expect anything. If she had a deca-credit for every hotel guest that had promised to ping, or call, or come back, they’d be living in a High Spires penthouse.

  CHAPTER 16

  * Planet: Concordance Prime * GDAT 3238.220 *

  There were no windows anywhere nearby, so he stared moodily out the door of the office he’d called home for the past two weeks. Not nearly as nice as the office Field Agent Lièrén Sòng now occupied.

  This one had become his by the simple act of dusting it and adding a few personal-looking items on the work surfaces and a generic deskcomp he’d easily smuggled in. Security was more tuned to catching equipment leaving. Since the office was small and inconveniently located, the few people who walked by assumed he was on someone’s shit list. He was amused when they avoided meeting his eye, in case his bad luck was contagious. Throw in typical corporate lack of communication, and the one or two people who might have been curious wouldn’t even know who to ask.

  He wouldn’t have chosen to be within a kiloparsec of the bloody fishbowl that was Spires, except that’s where Sòng and the rest of his unit had gone to ground. Quite literally, in Sòng’s case, considering the flitter crash.

  Even perfect plans became vulnerable if loose ends were left dangling, and now everything was in disarray because someone had gotten paranoid. He’d been one day—one bloody day!—from getting Field Agent Lièrén Sòng right where
he wanted him, where he wouldn’t know what hit him.

  But thanks to the moronic mugging attempt, followed the next day by the over-the-top performance art of the bar shooting, Sòng had finally woken up to the fact that he was a target. He may have been naïve at first, but he wasn’t stupid.

  He’d entered the CPS building at the crack of dawn, wearing comparatively nondescript clothes and carrying his coat and exercise bag as usual, but hadn’t budged since. Given time, even that could be worked around, but time was in short supply and getting shorter by the hour. Sòng had been cleared for duty and could be gone tomorrow.

  The hotel was still his best shot, but he didn’t want to endanger the woman or the kid that Sòng spent so much time with. Unlike some other people he could mention, he wasn’t a monster. Innocent bystanders weren’t acceptable collateral damage, whether on a metro platform or in a tacky hotel bar. Neither were the victims of the sick twists that the field unit let escape. The whole field unit had become a corrupt, stinking nest of vipers that needed to be exterminated.

  When it served their interest, the CPS could deploy competent corporate fixers, but who knew how long that would take, and how many others would become collateral damage in the interim. No, the only sure solution was to burn the nest out once and for all. They’d started it, but he would bloody well finish it. He always paid his debts, as they’d find out to their cost.

  He tapped a stylus rhythmically on the stained desktop. He’d originally planned to take care of Sòng, then pick off the rest one by one, but never let it be said he wasn’t flexible. Besides, two of the idiots were in the same location. They liked their creature comforts, and he knew the perfect bait to reel them in quickly. He could be back in his homey little office by early afternoon.

  Decision made, he stood, collected his cheap raincoat and headed out. As he walked, he used his oversized percomp to set another part of his plan in motion. Doing so also saved him from having to make eye contact with anyone.

  It would take more finesse and preparation to get to the clever and deadly agent who’d set him on this path. Monsters like that got others to do their dirty work, and had an innate caution that kept them alive long after good people, innocent people, were dead, flamed, and made into memory diamonds.

  CHAPTER 17

  * Planet: Concordance Prime * GDAT 3238.220 *

  Lièrén waited just inside the CPS office building’s entryway, watching for the secure autocab that had pinged him of its arrival. He pulled his coat closed and tied its attached scarf. Dusk had faded into night, and the lights of Spires were at full brightness. He’d packed essential clothes and toiletries in his gym bag, and planned to select a random restaurant, then a random hotel in which to stay that night. Regardless of what Rayle had asserted yesterday evening, Lièrén’s predictable routine and longing to be among friends were responsible for the deaths of three people. He’d be damned if he’d let that happen again. He was grateful he’d had the chance to say goodbye, though it had clogged his throat and hollowed out his chest like someone had taken a cryoblade to it.

  The cab dropped down and glided to a stop. He replied to its arrival ping, then waited until its doors slid open before exiting the building. He waved the doors closed as he sat, then gave the cab coordinates to a restaurant district he’d never been to. He settled back in the contour seat and watched the low-air traffic go by without seeing it.

  He didn’t know whom to tell about his conviction that he was at the top of someone’s deletion list. CPS procedure said he should go to his supervisor, Talavara, but if his theory was right, she was on the same list. It’d be stupid for them to be in the same place, and a memo wasn’t the appropriate medium for saying “I think someone is trying to kill me, and you might be next.” Yamazaki, the field office’s supervisor, didn’t know any of the background. Lièrén didn’t know Jane Pennington-Smythe at all, and he didn’t trust the Office of Internal Inquiry to act in time.

  The whole situation was, he realized discontentedly, partly his own fault for allowing the austere isolation of the field unit’s cover story to overwhelm his personal life. He’d always blamed the job for his failed relationships, because it was easier than admitting his loneliness or taking responsibility for his own happiness. He’d cut himself off from his whole family because he was tired of never being good enough and not measuring up to his great-grandfather’s expectations. Now he was paying the price for deliberately pushing himself out into hard space with only his exosuit to protect him.

  A ping chime from the prepaid percomp interrupted his thoughts.

  “Rayle, good evening.” He used the wire in his collar slot to activate the holo, and Rayle’s face and shoulders appeared.

  “Thank the gods I found you. Are you still on the planet?” He rubbed the side of his face. “Of course you are, because you gave me a local ping ref. Derrit never came back, and Imara’s missing. I tried everyone else I could think of, and then I remembered you work for the CPS.” He bit his lip. “Maybe I shouldn’t have called you…”

  Lièrén smoothed the shock from his face, because it wasn’t helping. “It’s fine. Details, please.”

  “Derrit went in for testing again, and he didn’t come home when he was supposed to. Imara knew I took an extra shift, so she pinged me three hours ago to see if he’d come to the bar, but he hadn’t. She said she got zeroed when she called the Testing Center, so she was going down there in person, and to let management know she might be a few minutes late for her shift. She never showed, hasn’t pinged.” Rayle’s expression wavered between anger and worry. “She doesn’t miss shifts, and she’s never late without telling us.”

  “Who else did you call?”

  “Road-crew dispatch, Horis—he’s one of her road-crew chiefs—and the neighbor couple she trades child-watching with. No one knows anything.”

  As a covert field agent, he should stay out of this, but he wasn’t going to be that person anymore. He was entitled to a life outside the CPS. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Rayle sighed with relief. “Thank you. I’ll ping you if they show up, and it’s all just miscommunication.”

  Lièrén didn’t need his sifter talent to tell him Rayle didn’t believe that. Lièrén didn’t, either.

  He didn’t know what he’d be able to do, but he’d be flailing in the dark without information. Fortunately, he could cure that. He ordered the cab back to the CPS building. The threatened rain finally made its appearance with a roll of thunder, making the lighted city shinier than ever.

  By the time he got back to his tiny office, he’d formulated a plan and a cover story. He cracked the Testing Center datasets for the third time, then used his temporary access to comprehensively collect current Testing Center data, which accounted for the last eight days since he’d been given the original hypercube. If asked, he’d imply it was in the name of doing the most thorough job he could before shipping out, since it was unlikely that the regular employees would be keeping it up.

  As soon as the data began filling in, he ran “data integrity” queries, tweaking them to return results that would bring up records similar to Derrit’s without having to explicitly search for the name. He wanted no inappropriate inquiries traceable to him. Derrit’s first visit came up in the first batch, and he skimmed through it, but it was the same as all the other retests. High scores by the subject, and no reason given. They’d lied to Imara about the “inconclusive” results—Derrit was already high level in both talents. And in his ignorance, Lièrén had helped ensure Derrit got those high scores by training him.

  He stood up at that, with a need to pace, and realized he was still wearing his coat. He took it off and hung it on the hook by the door. As a bonus, it covered the office’s tall, narrow window, making it difficult for anyone in the main area to see what he was doing. He kicked his gym bag into the corner to keep from running over it with his chair, then sat again.

  The current data unfortunately didn’t include Derrit’s recor
d from today, probably because it was still in use. He wished he’d thought to find out more about the daily operations of the Testing Center when he’d discovered the pattern, but he’d been focused on the trends. It would take too long to create the query and search through the main hypercube to look for patterns related to custodial parents in the other inconclusive records.

  He was a planner, not a strategist like his sister or a resourceful quick thinker like Imara. He snorted to himself. He needed Imara to help him find her son, which was probably exactly what she was doing. He assumed Derrit had made it to the Testing Center, because she’d have known a lot sooner that he was missing. The only thing he could think of was to find and read the open record.

  He probed the Testing Center data space, trying to get a feel for the structure without stumbling into the intruder protections. He set up a harmless routine that activated at random intervals, hoping it would mimic a glitchy segment that the AI would come fix. He triggered a tiny query that would hitch a virtual ride on its data integrity checks, which would lead him to open records. In the meantime, he found the data staging areas and began to delicately feel around for activity. Luckily, the only open and active record had Derrit’s unique identifier. When he tried to open a copy, though, the system denied his access.

  Dammit, he didn’t have time for all this. In the worst-case scenario, the CPS had already invoked the emergency draft statute and was in the process of hauling Derrit off planet, leaving Imara with an uphill fight to even find her son, much less assert custodial rights.

  He stared at the screen, suddenly remembering the Testing Center had skirted procedure to give his temporary account the ability to change ownership of files, after he’d had to call them about thirty times on the first day for access to old records. It was dangerous, because it could trip multiple alarms if he made a mistake. He took a deep breath and did it, then quickly sent a copy of the file to his deskcomp. He immediately reset the original ownership. If he…