Текст книги "Trickster"

Автор книги: Стивен Харпер

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CHAPTER TEN

"Hate binds us to our enemies."

– Irfan Qasad

Ben pried up the access panel and, with another glance at the street corridor, dropped into the maintenance tunnel. It was dry and dimly lit, with dozens of pipes and color-coded cables pipes running in various directions.

"In," Ben said, and examined the dozens of wrapped cables. "Let's see. SA datalinks are coded in blue, so it has to be one of these." He brushed his hand across a thick clump of tiny blue cables bound wrapped with plastic bands and followed them down the tunnel away from Roon's house. In his other hand he carried a small tool satchel.

Ben didn't answer and continued tracing the cables. He came to an intersection, followed the cables to the right, and kept going. The tunnel ceiling was low, and for once Ben was glad he was short. His footsteps were muffled by pipe baffling and the close quarters. A leaky pipe dripped a bright green fluid Ben declined to scrutinize, but otherwise the tunnels were pretty clean. He doubted this would be the case in the poorer sections of the station.

After a few more meters, the cables ended in a junction box with a card access slot. Ben studied the slot for a moment, then opened his tool satchel and extracted a card with a cord dangling from it. He attached the free end of the cord to his data pad, then slotted the card into the access panel. The pad beeped once and displayed a series of codes. Ben removed the reader card and pulled from his satchel what looked like a pack of playing cards. With deft fingers he shuffled through them, found the one he wanted, and slid it into the access slot. The box beeped once and released the lock with a clunk.

"I've got access," Ben said. He opened the box and peered inside at the snarl of cables, hookups, and computer parts. The ceramic on one of the hookups gleamed more brightly than its compatriots, delineating its status as a newcomer. "We have a winner. Let me establish a link, then tell me what you see."

Ben clipped a shunt the size of a fingernail to the cable just before the hookup. The shunt would intercept signals that passed through the cable, copy them, and transmit them to Lucia's terminal. The shunt had a range of less than a hundred meters, which was why Lucia and Gretchen were currently holed up in a hotel room a little ways up the street corridor.

"Security," he said with an ironic snort. "Wireless communication can be intercepted and piggybacked if you know the frequency. Roon probably figured anonymity was on his side. If no one knows about the terminal in his house, no one can look for the cable that hooks it up to the Collection. And even if someone managed to find out about the terminal-Kendi saw it, after all-they'd still wouldn't have his key and print. Or so Roon figured."

Ben climbed the short ladder to the sidewalk, half expecting to be met by a curious Security officer. He had a fake ID and work order in his pocket in case that happened, but no one accosted him. A few electric cars buzzed up the corridor, and foot traffic was limited to a few humans who didn't look twice at a workman climbing out of a maintenance tunnel. The corridor itself was lined with round doors. The owners-or, more likely, their gardeners-had planted trees and flowers and small gardens in pots, and ivy-framed windows looked out onto these little "yards." Far, far overhead, the corridor ceiling was painted sky-blue, and an artificial sun shuttled slowly back and forth. Birds sang in the trees, and a group of small children giggled their way through some mysterious game. Despite the homey touches, though, the area felt to Ben more like a shopping mall than a residential zone. He couldn't resist looking up the corridor to Roon's door, a bright red circle beneath a potted elm. The windows were dark.

Ben shut down the projector that created a holographic warning ring around the entrance to the maintenance tunnel, gathered up his satchel, and strolled casually away. When he was sure no one was watching, he ducked into an alley-it was clean and well-swept-and removed his coveralls. Beneath them he wore an expensive-looking suit. He sprayed the coveralls with disintegration enzyme, dragged a comb through his hair, and crossed the street, carrying his tool satchel like an overnight bag. A revolving door made of glass and gold spun slowly ahead of him, and a line of cabs stretched up the street waiting for fares. Ben nodded to the blue-clad doorman and entered the hotel. A few minutes later, he was knocking on one of the rooms. It opened a crack, and a blue eye peered suspiciously at him.

"What's the password?"

"Your mother," Ben said.

Gretchen opened the door with a sigh. "You're no fun," she grumped.

The hotel room was small, sporting a single room, small desk, and two wide beds. Lucia was sitting at the desk, which had a holographic computer display hovering over it. Four rubber thumbs sat nearby, each one a different color. Vidya and Prasad both lounged on one of the beds.

"Ta da!" Lucia said, gesturing at the display with one scarred hand. It said, Please insert key and scan print. "I figured you'd want the honors."

Ben nodded. "I'd better get started. Vidya and Prasad, I'll need you two in just a minute. Everyone be ready to run in case something goes wrong. Ready?"

"Get on with it, already," Gretchen said.

Lucia vacated the desk and Ben took her place. His muscles were tense, and he had to force himself to unclench his jaw. Like the situation with the copycat, there was no way to test the print and key system. A mistake here, however, would bring consequences much more serious than being forced to hide under another bed. Taking a deep breath and trying to banish a mental image of Kendi's broken body being fed into a recycling vat, Ben pressed the red rubber thumb to the data pad's scanner and slotted Roon's key. Lucia murmured to herself and clutched the little icon of Irfan around her neck. Ben's tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth, and he found himself saying a quick prayer of his own.

The pad beeped twice and the display winked out. Ben tensed and Gretchen was already halfway to the door when the display winked back on.

Access approved, it said. Good afternoon, Mr. Roon.

"No vocal output," Vidya muttered. Her voice was perfectly steady.

"Maybe it annoys him. God." Ben felt limp as wilted leaf. " Looks like it worked, at any rate. Give me a few minutes."

With Lucia watching over his shoulder, Ben fiddled with the system, quickly familiarizing himself with file locations and downloading whatever caught his eye. Occasionally he paused to read.

"Roon has a private ship," Lucia said, pointing at the display. "It's heavily armed, too. Will that matter, do you think?"

"No idea," Ben replied. "I'll make sure Kendi knows, though."

A moment later, Ben came across a book in the file lists. He copied it to a small disk, which he tossed to Gretchen. "Take a look at this."

Gretchen caught it and slotted it into her own data pad. " A True History of the Dream, by Dr. Edsard Roon. What the hell? Roon's a doctor?"

"There," Prasad said. He was standing next to Gretchen. "The fine print says 'Dr.' stands for 'Dreamer.' "

"Roon isn't Silent," Lucia said. "We hacked his medical records first thing."

They continued to talk while Ben worked. First he called up personnel files-all the workers involved with the Collection, he noticed, were human-and found two men and a woman who had been recently laid off. He deleted most of their basic information and substituted information on Vidya and Prasad instead-DNA sequences, ID holograms, and personal communication codes. He did the same for the third person, but uploaded an entirely different set of codes. Then he called over Vidya and Prasad so he could scan their prints and record their voices.

"Cross your fingers," Ben said. "I'm going to log off Roon and log on as Mallory in Security so I can bump up your clearance level."

But the blue thumb and fake key worked perfectly. A few moments later, Ben handed Vidya and Prasad a set of ID holograms.

"These will get you in and out of the Collection," Ben told them. "You were laid off, but in about half an hour you're going to get an automated message recalling you to work for this evening's shift."

"Who is that one for?" Vidya pointed at the third ID holo.

"I'm not supposed to say," Ben said, and slipped the holo into his pocket. "Next up-maps and diagrams from information tech."

The green thumb, which bore Elena Papagos-Faye's print, also worked as advertised, and in a few moments, Ben had a complete set of blueprints and diagrams for the entire Collection. Ben logged off the system, shut it down, and ran a relieved hand through his hair.

"We're done," he said.

"All that sweat to get keys and prints, and it only took ten minutes to get what we needed?" Gretchen said. "You didn't even use the yellow thumb."

"We don't need to access research and medical quite yet," Ben said. "Or so Kendi says."

Gretchen leveled a hard look at him. "You don't know the whole plan either, do you?"

"No. But Kendi will tell us what we need to know when we need to know it."

"I'm sensing reluctance," Gretchen smirked. "You're as ticked as I am. Admit it."

"I trust Kendi."

"Of course you do," Gretchen scoffed. "You're both still Silent and Kendi's still your goddammed-"

"Sister Gretchen!" Lucia interrupted, stepping in front of Ben and leveling a hard look of her own. "I think we're done here, don't you?"

Gretchen met her gaze and ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth with small smacking noises. After a long moment, she said, "Yeah. I think we're done. You do what you need to, church girl. I'm going back to the ship."

And she stomped out of the room.

"What was that about?" Prasad asked.

"I can't be angry at her," Lucia said absently. "She's lost too much."

Ben, who was struggling to keep his own temper, took a deep breath and nodded. "Agreed. I just hope she can finish her part in this."

"She will," Lucia said. "I think this sort of thing is all that keeps her going."

Harenn pressed the dermospray to Bedj-ka's arm and pressed the release. The drugs thumped home. Bedj-ka rubbed his arm, then rubbed his nose.

"I gave you medication to relieve your cough and fever along with the anti-viral," Harenn said. "You will be fine after a good night's sleep."

She turned to the small crate on the counter behind her. The words Biological Agent: Handle With Care marched along the side like red soldiers, and Harenn opened the top as if it might explode.

"Can I talk to my dad?" Bedj-ka asked behind her.

Harenn closed her eyes. It was the question she had been dreading. She pushed the crate aside and laid her palms on the cool counter top without looking around. "Why?"

"I want to see him," Bedj-ka replied. "I want to find out why he did it."

"It is a poor idea, my son." Harenn turned around. Her stomach felt like a ball of heavy ice. "He will only say things that hurt you. Perhaps later you will understand why I cannot let you-"

Bedj-ka's jaw firmed, and in that moment he looked amazingly like Isaac. "I want to see him. You said I can make my own choices now that I'm free."

"Within reasonable limits, yes."

"Mater and Pater said the same thing in the Enclave."

"It is hardly the same thing. You know this very well."

"All I know is you won't let me see my dad."

Her first crisis as a mother. Harenn had often watched other parents deal with problems among their children and felt a stab of envy. Now that it was happening to her, however, she found herself wishing the situation would go away. The whole thing was a trap. If she agreed Bedj-ka's demand, she was setting him up for a world of hurt. If she refused him, it could create a serious rift between them at a time when their relationship was still forming. She couldn't win, no matter what she did. Hatred for Isaac rolled thick and black. If he hadn't spoken when he had, none of this would be happening. If he hadn't stolen Bedj-ka away in the first place, none of this would be happening. If… if… if…

"Very well," Harenn said at last. "You may talk to him during the procedure." That way, at least, Bedj-ka wouldn't be left alone with him.

"Thanks, Mom." Bedj-ka's eyes were wide and bright.

"But first I have a few small tasks to attend," she said. "When I am finished, I will bring him down. You may sit and wait over there."

Bedj-ka retired to the indicated chair without further comment. Harenn opened the little crate, extracted a plastic vial filled with clear liquid, and slotted it into the microscope. She examined the virus on the holographic display with a critical eye. It looked like a clump of snowflakes. Harenn nodded.

"What's that for?" Bedj-ka asked.

"This I cannot explain to you," she replied. "But it is very important to Father Kendi."

"My ears are burning," Kendi said as he entered the medical bay. "I came down to see how the gene scan is going."

Harenn gestured at the cryo-unit, which sat on a counter across the room. A computer lead was attached to it and the unit's lights were flashing briskly. "The computer is running comparisons. It will take some time."

"How is everything else going?"

"I am examining the biological shipment," Harenn told him. "Would you do me a favor? Go get Isaac and bring him here."

Kendi shot Bedj-ka a look and Harenn braced herself for a barrage of questions. But Kendi merely gave a brief nod and left. Bedj-ka fidgeted on his stool while Harenn put a sample of the virus into a dermospray.

"Mom," he said at last, "what will happen to me once we're done here?"

"You will come home to Bellerophon and live with me, of course. And you will attend school. When you get older, you can decide to apprentice in a trade or business, or you can attend a university. The monastery for the Children of Irfan instructs more than just the Silent, and they have many fine programs. Or you can do something else entirely. When we get back-"

"You mean if we get back," Bedj-ka interrupted.

Harenn set down the dermospray. "If?"

"I hear stuff. I don't know everything about what's going on, but I know it's dangerous and if someone makes a mistake, we'll all be dead."

His matter-of-fact tone brought a chill to Harenn's skin. "I suppose you are correct in this. But we will not fail, Bedj-ka. Father Kendi and the others are skilled, intelligent people. We will let nothing harm you."

Bedj-ka didn't look convinced. Before Harenn could respond further, however, Kendi arrived with a sullen Isaac Todd in tow. Bedj-ka got uneasily to his feet. Isaac caught sight of Bedj-ka, opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and looked at Harenn.

"He wishes to speak to you," Harenn said. "You may respond, but remember that I will be listening. It is best that you do not lie, Isaac."

Bedj-ka looked at Isaac without speaking. An uncomfortable silence fell over the medical bay. Kendi leaned against one wall, arms folded, expression neutral.

"What did you want to say?" Isaac finally asked.

"Why did you sell me?" Bedj-ka blurted out.

With a glance at Harenn, Isaac stammered, "I don't… look, I

… ah, hell." He closed his eyes. "Plain and simple, I needed the money. Look, it was nothing personal. It was just that-"

He never finished. Bedj-ka flung himself at his father, both fists flying. "I hate you!" he screamed. "I hate you hate you hate you hate you! " One of his blows made a solid connection, and Isaac's breath whooshed out of his lungs. Another fist slammed into Isaac's groin. He paled and doubled over just as Kendi pulled Bedj-ka away. Harenn realized she hadn't been able to move throughout the entire exchange.

"I hate you!" Bedj-ka struggled in Kendi's arms. "You sold me away and I hate you!"

"Harenn!" Kendi barked.

Harenn unfroze. "Take him up to our quarters. I'll deal with Isaac and come right up."

"Hurry." Kendi carried the still-screaming Bedj-ka out of the medical bay, leaving Isaac on the floor. Harenn dragged him to his feet and sat him on one of the examination beds. His face was still pale with pain.

"Now he is hysterical, thanks to you," Harenn said. "Think of this as your reward." She pressed the dermospray to his arm and thumbed the release.

"What the hell was that?" Isaac gasped, arms crossed over his abdomen from the kick he had received.

"If you are referring to Bedj-ka's attack, I should think that was self-explanatory," Harenn replied. "And I shall definitely have to enroll him in a martial arts class. He has talent. If you are referring to the dermospray-have you ever had gelpox?"

"No."

"Good. I will take you back to your room and there you will stay. By this time tomorrow, if everything goes well, we will be far away from this horrible place."

"What about me?"

"I imagine you will have a long conversation with the Guardians back on Bellerophon, and then you will have more conversations with police forces on other worlds. Enjoy what freedom you have, Isaac. You will have even less of it very soon."

Kendi flopped down onto Harenn's sofa with a sigh. Dealing with hysterical nine-year-old boys wasn't in his job description, unless they had snuck it in when he wasn't looking. On the other hand, he supposed, it was good practice for becoming a father-small "f." Assuming he and Ben got through this whole thing in one piece, anyway.

The door slid open and Harenn entered. "Where is he?" she asked without preamble.

"In his room. He calmed down and said he wanted to be alone, though I'm sure you'll want to talk to him anyway. I can recommend a good counselor when we get back to Bellerophon."

Harenn lowered her voice. " If we get back."

She was echoing his earlier thought, but he forced a smile anyway. "Pessimist."

"Realist," she corrected.

"If you want, Harenn, we can put you and Bedj-ka on the Emporium's ship. You'll both be safe there, and if you injected Todd-"

"I did."

"– then you don't need to stick around for the end. I'll let you know how it works out, I promise."

Harenn opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. Now that she no longer wore her veil, Kendi found it easy to read her expression. He knew she felt it was her duty to stay, help Kendi free his family the way he had helped Harenn free hers. But now she had to think of Bedj-ka's safety instead of just her own. Kendi had been counting on that.

At last she said, "Very well. I must check on Isaac in an hour to make sure the injection took, and then I will take Bedj-ka over to the Emporium. He will probably enjoy that very much, come to think of it." She stood up. "I should go talk to him."

Kendi gave a small sigh of relief that she had agreed so readily and rose as well. "I have a few other things to finish up, too. And then we're going to have a briefing. The last one."

"Only for this mission. There will be others."

"That sounded suspiciously like optimism, Madame Realist."

"Yes." Harenn took Kendi's hand and squeezed it. "Kendi, I hope you know I did not mean what I said about your plan being selfish. I am very grateful to you."

"I know."

"If we do not meet again, I want you to know that I am glad to have served with you-and under you." She looked up at him, brown eyes meeting brown eyes. "You have made history once, Father Kendi Weaver, and I think you are going to make it again."

"By rescuing a handful of Silent from SA? Hardly."

"No. I mean later. Great people rarely touch the universe only once." She stood on tiptoe, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and hurried into Bedj-ka's room.

"They're going to do it tonight, sir, or perhaps early tomorrow morning."

"How do you know, Mr. Todd?"

"Harenn told me that by this time tomorrow, they would be far away from SA Station."

"Have you learned the Father's name yet? We have extensive files on the Children of Irfan, and it would be easier to keep a lookout if we knew what he looked like."

"I still haven't caught his name, sir. He has dark skin, curly black hair, and dark eyes."

"That describes half the humans who live on this station, Mr. Todd."

"Tall, on the thin side."

"Your powers of description leave much to be desired."

"Sorry, sir. They're still planning to infect the Father's family with gelpox and tamper with the computer diagnostics to make you think they have something more serious and sell them away cheap." He grimaced. "Harenn injected me with gelpox to test the viability of the virus. In a couple days, I won't be feeling very good."

"Gelpox is a child's disease, Mr. Todd-a mere inconvenience. You shouldn't worry yourself."

"Yes, sir."

"If they want to tamper with the diagnostic equipment, they'll have to break into the research and medical labs."

"Yes, sir. If you put extra security in the medical bay, you'll probably get a whole lot more Silent for the Collection."

"You may count on that, Mr. Todd."

"And then you'll come and get me, sir?"

"I won't need to, Mr. Todd. I've already spoken with Rafille Mallory. She was able to give me a computer virus that will override your shackles and another one that will open your door. I am uploading them into your communicator now. You land on your feet more easily than a cat, Mr. Todd, and I am eager to see you do it again. If you can find your way back to the Collection in time to see everything through, I will reward your resourcefulness. If you can't, you will want to practice your vanishing skills."

"A test, sir?"

"An assignment. Good luck, Mr. Todd."

Martina forced herself not to pace. This was it. She was getting out now. Tonight. Or today, or whatever the hell it was. Pacing, however, might attract the attention of the cameras, and that she didn't want. Yet. First, she needed to run a bath.

In the bathroom, Martina ran hot water into the tub. Moist steam billowed up. Bathing was one luxury the Deltas, with their emphasis on physical purity, did not restrict. Martina was, however, at the beginning of a sleep cycle, and she knew from experience that if she didn't go to bed soon, Delta Maura would come to check on her.

Martina glanced around the tiled room. Several moments' thought and a bit of experimentation had proven to Martina's satisfaction that the bathroom had two cameras in it. One of them observed the shower. Martina had figured this out with a bit of logic. The shower stall had an opaque door on it, but during Confessional, the Deltas always knew what any given Alpha did in the shower. That meant there had to be a camera that spied on just the shower stall from either inside or above.

The bathroom itself was tiled in green squares, and the layout was such that only one place granted a clear view of the entire room-the mirror over the sink. Martina was willing to bet that a second camera lay behind the mirror. Granted, spy devices could be tiny, but mounting-and hiding-such devices on tile was harder than installing them behind a mirror, and why take the hard route when the easy one would work just as well? Further proof of her idea lay in the fact that no matter how steamy the room got, the mirror always stayed clear.

Unfortunately, Martina had no way to test this particular theory until she actually put her plan into motion. Her heart climbed into her throat as she casually undressed down to her underwear and then, as if bored while waiting for the tub to fill, she picked up a bar of soap from the sink and toyed with it. Whimsically, she drew a smiley face on the mirror and made faces at herself. Then, with a light laugh, she scribbled over the mirror with soap until the whole thing was completely blocked out. Just playing around. No harm here. She set the soap down, crossed to the half-full tub, and opened the drain without turning off the water. With a hard swallow, she picked up a can of depilatory cream, propped one foot on the side of the tub, and spread some of it on her leg.

Then she waited.

Her mouth was dry and her hands shook. If this didn't work, if she got caught, she had no idea what would happen to her. Martina doubted it would be pleasant. They wouldn't kill her-she was too valuable for that-but a lot of brainwashing methods were less… genial than those which the Deltas currently used. There was also the very real possibility that even if she got out, she would find herself with nowhere to run. As Keith had pointed out, this could be an asteroid or a station or an installation in the middle of a desert. And what about her shackles? They might shock her into insensibility the moment she crossed the threshold. Still, she had to try, had to find out.

A sound reached her ears over the noise of running water. The main door to her quarters had opened.

"Hello?" came Delta Maura's voice. "Alpha?"

"I'm in here," Martina called through dry lips.

Delta Maura entered the bathroom, her green robe and wimple rustling in the thick steam. Her face was serene, as usual, but her eyes went straight to the mirror. Martina suppressed a grim smile. Her theory had proven correct. Delta Maura had been sent in to unblock the camera. If there had been another camera in the room, or if Martina had been wrong about the mirror, the spies, whoever they were, would have simply continued watching.

"Is there a problem, Delta Maura?" Martina asked. The running water was loud, and she had to raise her voice.

"What did you do to your mirror, dear?" Delta Maura said.

Martina laughed. "Just playing around. Didn't you ever draw on the mirror with soap when you were a kid?"

"No."

"It's a pretty design, I think. Look, you can still see the bird."

Delta Maura turned to examine the glass. "Bird? I'm afraid I don't-"

Martina clocked her with the can. Delta Maura collapsed. Martina caught her and lowered her to the floor. Quickly she undressed the woman and shrugged into the voluminous robe and wimple.

Under the robe Delta Maura wore a belt with a small computer box on it. Martina gasped in recognition-a master unit. Master units controlled slave shackles. With trembling fingers, Martina found the tiny key and pulled it away from the unit. A lead wire stretched with it. Martina touched the key to her wristband. It fell open and dropped to the floor. Quickly, Martina touched the key to her ankleband and released that as well. She stared down at the naked skin left behind. The wristbands had been part of her life for over fifteen years, and now they were gone.

Martina shook herself. This wasn't the time for rumination. It was time to leave. At the last minute, Martina remembered to grab the gloves-and she found Delta Maura's keycard. Martina rolled her eyes. She didn't need the one she had found at all. On the other hand, it had given her the idea to escape in the first place. Finally, Martina took Delta Maura's earpiece and slipped it on.

"You can't leave the mirror like that, you know," Martina said as she worked, imitating Delta Maura's voice and praying that the running water would keep a listener from noticing the difference. "We'll have to clean it off."

"I'm almost done over here," she answered in her own voice. "Can you help me?"

Delta Maura's voice: "Well, all right. But let's move it along."

Gritting her teeth to keep herself from grunting, Martina heaved Delta Maura's limp body into the tub. The strain pulled at her back and arms, and she was sweating in the thick, steamy air. Eventually, Delta Maura slid home, with only the top of her head showing above the tub's rim. There was no danger she would drown, since the water was running down the drain as fast as it came in. Martina dropped a towel over her shackles lying open on the floor, then snatched up a washcloth and wiped the soap off the mirror, starting at the top and working downward. She kept her head lowered, pretending to keep her eyes on her work but actually using the wimple to hide her face from the camera. Then she turned back to the tub.

"That's enough water, dear," she said above the noise. "When you finish, go straight to bed."

She reached down, shut off the water, and strode quickly from the room.

"So that's the entire plan," Gretchen said. "Glad you saw fit to enlighten us five whole minutes before we get to work."

"This isn't a good time to argue," Lucia said. "We have our jobs to do, and we need to do them so we can get those people out."

Kendi drummed his fingers on his knees beneath the galley table. Lucia had made her usual delicious spread of snacks, but he didn't feel like eating of it. Neither, he noticed, did any of the others.

"Just a minute," Ben said. "Kendi, you're planning to break into the research area alone?"

"The fewer to go in," Kendi told him, "the fewer to get caught."

"And killed."

"I'm Silent, Ben, and I can still work in the Dream. Do you honestly think they'd kill me? If I make a mistake, they'll probably just make me part of the Collection."

"That makes me feel so much better."

"And you'll be free to stage another rescue," Kendi finished.

"Sounds like fun," Gretchen drawled.

Kendi firmed his jaw. "I don't know why I'm trying to justify anything. This is the way it's going to happen, troops. You have gripes, take them up with Irfan."

"We'll do as you order, Father," Lucia said quietly. "We're just worried about you. Even Sister Gretchen worries, though she won't admit it."

Gretchen folded her arms. "The only thing I'm worried about is how much my part sucks."

Father Kendi Weaver adjusted his tool belt and shrugged within his blue maintenance uniform. Seemingly without a care in the world, he sauntered up the corridor that led to the Collection.

The corridor, an unassuming gray affair with no doors or windows, was deserted. The files Ben had copied from Roon's directory had indicated that although the Silent prisoners-Alphas, Roon called them-did not have a fixed schedule, most of the workers did. Only a skeleton staff remained on duty for eight of the station's twenty-four hours each "day," giving them some semblance of a diurnal cycle. It seemed most logical to strike when most of the staff were gone.

Interestingly enough, the files also indicated that the vast majority of the workers had no idea what sort of project they were working for. Only Roon, the department heads, another group called the Deltas, and a handful of security folk were in the know. The rest were corporate and blue-collar dupes who would probably lose their jobs when it was all over. But Kendi couldn't let himself feel sorry for them. Not where slavery was involved.