“Hell, you’ve got low expectations.”

  “Only from some.” And Keelin smiled, hoped Dia took that in the way she intended.

  Dia rolled her eyes. “Suppose I deserved that. But I reckon we need to think about what we’re going to do too.”

  “We?”

  “The three of us. Me, Ennis and Bri. Feel like we’ve been reacting too long. Reckon we need something to aim for..”

  “Always helpful.”

  “Needs to be something that uses our unique skills, though. So nothing too easy.”

  “Easy’s no challenge.” And Keelin thought of her testing, when she’d first woken as a NeoGen. She thought of the easy way she’d dispatched the test subjects, and she shuddered

  “You reckon you need any help looking for this Tallia person?” Dia asked.

  That took Keelin’s wind. She coughed. Her mouth hung open.

  And then she looked along the shore, to Ennis and Brianne. “Shouldn’t you check with them, see what they want to do?”

  “Thought I’d scope out possibilities first.”

  “Can’t see us being best friends.”

  Dia laughed at that. “Reckon we’ll wind each other up more often than not. But that’s what happened with you and Tallia, right? And now you want to save her from herself or something.”

  Was that what Keelin was doing?

  “And if things don’t work out, we can part company,” Dia continued. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” Then she stuck out her hand. “What do you say? Reckon we can prevent coming to blows long enough to find your colour-changing sort-of-friend?”

  Ryann

  The base grew oppressive. Annys closed herself away, either in her room or her office. People walked the corridors with shoulders rolled forward and heads dipped. There were precious few smiles now, and Ryann couldn’t recall the last time she’d heard genuine laughter.

  To keep herself sane more than anything, she moved from room to room, talking to everyone. She met with Sinon a couple of times each day, and they discussed captures from sensor feeds.

  She spent time with Kalen, explaining what she needed. He assured her it wouldn’t be a problem‌—‌his brother had connections. He’d be discreet, Sinon said. The guy would lose his reputation if he talked.

  Even though the base was on lock-down, they could still communicate with the outside world, albeit through heavy encryption. So Ryann used Annys’ list of contacts, and spoke to other Collective agents. The conversations were stilted, and Ryann was careful with her wording. She listened more than she talked.

  Everyone was nervous. Despite the best attempts to hold the details of the deaths tight, news leaked. Sources weren’t willing to put themselves out. Agents were going to ground.

  And the deaths‌—‌no, the assassinations‌—‌continued. Reports came in of at least two a day.

  Ryann pooled the data. She spent hours going through it, desperate for something that could give her hope.

  “They’ve infiltrated almost every aspect of the Collective,” she told Annys, the next time they met. She noticed that there was a fold-away bed in the corner of Annys’ office, and through the open door into the adjoining wash-room clothes hung from the towel rails. “We have to assume they know everything.”

  Annys shook her head. “Our information is too distributed for that. We’re not a top-down organisation like Kaiahive. Our agents work with autonomy. And we always have contingencies.”

  She was in denial. Ryann knew she had to push harder. “But what about the activity here in Leoniki? We’ve spotted too many known company agents, not to mention the Eves.”

  The sensor feeds had highlighted the initial Eve twice more across the city, and had then enabled Ryann and Sinon to track her to Leoniki’s main pad. She’d approached a landed Proteus, and had met her twin‌—‌both women looked identical, albeit wearing different clothes and with their hair styled differently.

  “Again, you have no hard evidence,” Annys said.

  “I showed you the feeds…”

  “They don’t prove anything. Isn’t it possible that one was an Eve and the other simply happened to look like her? Or maybe your wilder theories about the Eve being artificial are accurate, and she was welcoming the original, the one her body and features were based on? Or how about this‌—‌neither were Eves, and your mental image of the woman you saw underground has been twisted? Isn’t it possible that you saw what you wanted to see?”

  “You think I ever want to see one of those things again? And my memory’s not that bad.”

  “The lighting was poor, you said.”

  “I had filters running.”

  “And you were fighting for your life. The situation likely clouded your perception.”

  Ryann took a long breath, but it did nothing to quell her growing frustration. “And you’ll disregard anything I say, won’t you?”

  Her stomach twisted as Annys’ glare hardened. But there was no way to claw back those words.

  Annys lifted a hand, extended a finger, and stabbed it at Ryann. “You’re becoming a liability. After all I’ve done for you, you don’t have the right to cross me like this.”

  Ryann bit back the apology‌—‌she wouldn’t allow herself to be manipulated. Not any more.

  “I speak my truth,” she said, as calmly as she could. “If that upsets you, then that’s your concern. After investigation and careful analysis‌—‌something you instructed me to do, I might add‌—‌I’ve concluded that our enemies are approaching, and that we need to plan accordingly.”

  “And your truth is duly noted. But, as I’ve told you before, we are secure. We have emergency procedures in place. There’s no way for our enemies to uncover them all.”

  Ryann held Annys’ gaze. “I have only your word for that.”

  “You doubt my word?”

  “I don’t doubt your intentions. I question your confidence.”

  Annys clenched her jaw. She glared at Ryann.

  Ryann straightened her back. “Kaiahive are monitoring us right now. You’ve got access to the sensors Sinon’s hacked, haven’t you? Check references D45, D46 and F12.”

  The woman’s glare intensified. She looked small and ugly, not the Annys Ryann recalled from Athelios.

  “Do it! This is real. This is happening.”

  Annys’ shoulders shook. But her eyes glazed. She sat back slowly. Her chest rose and fell. Her hands rested flat on the table.

  Ryann focused on her trace. It flared red with anger, but that was tempered by a wash of uncertainty. Her mouth twitched.

  “Those sensors are streets away from us,” Annys said with a wave of her hand.

  “And the tagged individuals are known company agents. They wouldn’t be so blatant as to sit opposite our front door. If you check other locations, you’ll see more agents. Here‌—‌I’ll send you the overlay directly.”

  Annys’ hand shot up. “I have access.”

  “Then use it. See what’s going on, Annys!”

  “We’re prepared. And if you have nothing concrete to tell me, stop wasting my time.” Annys folded her arms.

  Ryann rose. She turned to the door, those sensor feeds still playing across her lenses. She scrubbed back and monitored the map overlay. It was obvious‌—‌the company were moving in. They watched every street the Collective could take, should they leave.

  And Annys sat at her desk. As Ryann gently closed the door, Annys still had her arms folded, still glared at her.

  Like a statue, Ryann thought.

  “You’d better hope I’m wrong about your emergency procedures, Annys,” she said.

  Keelin

  Keelin was surprised at how well it went, and how few arguments they had.

  They started back at Keelin’s Proteus. While Ennis and Brianne remained in the NeoGen’s Proteus‌—‌monitoring the area and ready to provide back-up‌—‌Dia and Keelin followed the freak’s trace on foot.

  Night fell. The trail led across the hills, sometimes taking easy paths, sometimes scaling inclines and crossing small rivers. As the sun rose the trace reached a road and stopped. Keelin grunted in frustration, but Dia spotted a dark stain on the hard-top, reckoned it was residue from a vehicle.

  “You think she could’ve flagged a ride?” Dia asked.

  “Or attacked someone waiting by the road-side.”

  “No body, though.”

  “Might still be in the vehicle.”

  Dia frowned. “She likely to do something like that?”

  “Way she’s been acting, nothing would surprise me.”

  Ennis brought the Proteus down, and Brianne hacked local systems from the nearest town, managed to access drone footage. The quality was high enough to show pilots, at least in vehicles with transparent panels, but it still took a couple of hours before Keelin spotted Tallia’s too-familiar features, even if she did have her skin a pale brown now.

  They tracked the vehicle into the city of Remios, three hours away. Ennis brought them down in what looked like an abandoned pad on the edge of an old industrial area, all aged warehouses and weed-strewn hard-top yards. As Dia prepared food, they planned. And, when they’d cleared up after the meal, they put the plan into operation.

  Remios seemed a decent place. There were flower beds and parks dotted all around the city centre, and very few of the buildings were in disrepair. But appearances could be deceptive, and there was a stink in the air. Subtle, but Keelin’s NeoGen senses reckoned it was from the industrial areas to the north.

  People didn’t smile. As Keelin and Dia passed by most looked away, but some cast hard, ugly glances.

  She told herself that was down to the robes they wore.

  Dia had pulled data on some kind of commune over to the west‌—‌she called it a monastery, a word Keelin wasn’t familiar with. Said people went there to retreat from the world, often for the rest of their lives. They lived simply, with minimal technology, and when they emerged to wander the city (which they did regularly, Dia said), they wore long robes that covered their whole bodies, with hoods that hid their features.

  The place sounded like a scam to Keelin, but Dia was right about the robes. True, they both walked stooped over, doing all they could to disguise their height, but Keelin reckoned people saw the robes and pegged them for a pair of commune freaks.

  They walked through the outskirts and into the centre of the city. The mid-day sun fought against the clouds, doing little to warm the wide streets. Most people were on foot, although a few vehicles trundled past, seemingly in no rush.

  A light rain began to fall when they reached the Monolith, the city’s main administrative building, and a place Dia said she’d used before. She didn’t give details, but as far as Keelin could gather her sisters had set-ups all over the place that would help them hack systems.

  The building was nowhere near as foreboding as its name. A three-storey structure with large windows and ornately carved stonework, it was fronted by paths and gardens that shimmered with oranges and yellows and greens. Some of the plants trailed across trellises, forming arches and tunnels. And all the paths led eventually to seven wide, polished steps and the large open doors.

  Inside, the lobby was brightly lit. There was a high desk to one side, a couple of bored-looking officials standing behind it, talking quietly. Their traces showed strong lattices, and Keelin reckoned they’d be wearing weapons.

  she asked.

  Dia turned her head, and Keelin knew she was scowling.

  And Brianne had been far too pleased with the story she’d set up. Which meant she risked being carried away with the creatives, losing focus on the practicalities.

 

 

 

  Even if things back-fired, leaving someone else‌—‌like Keelin‌—‌to rush in, use strength to push down the problems.

  Dia sussed.

  The NeoGen made no move to approach the desk. She turned, her features hidden in shadow, but Keelin could imagine the look she gave.

  Keelin sighed.

  She approached the desk, hands clasped in front, head bowed. She only looked up when the officials shuffled to face her.

  “Help you?” the youngest one said‌—‌although young probably wasn’t the best word. Keelin reckoned he was in his thirties, his colleague ten years older.

  Keelin smiled, then remembered that the man couldn’t see her, and wouldn’t have responded well to her snout anyway.

  “I hope so,” she said. “I’m here to collect a file of documents. It’s all been arranged.”

  He looked her up and down. “Yeah? You got identification?”

  “I have one of your trinkets.” Keelin reached into a pocket of her cloak and pulled out an ident card attached to a chain, the chain fixed to the inside of the pocket. “Does this suffice?”

  His eyes widened, and he smirked. The reaction didn’t surprise Keelin‌—‌she’d done something similar when Ennis had pulled the card out of one of the Proteus’ storage lockers. The thing was a relic. She reckoned it was a good hundred years old.

  But these strange people from the monastery didn’t go in for tech. If they had something that worked, they’d keep on using it. And Ennis said there was loads of old data on it, re-written countless times. She said that made it even more authentic‌—‌something that appeared old but only held fresh data was too obviously a fake.

  It helped that the ident card also had a strong but extremely local and selective suppressor field, masking Keelin’s lattice. Dia had one too. It would mask their lattices, but still allow them to suss.

  The official turned to his colleague.

  “Have to use the beast for that,” the older man said, reaching to the side and pulling something that looked like a cross between a lash and a palm-reader from a shelf. He blew imaginary dust off it, held it out to the younger official, who took it and turned it over in his hands. His brow knotted, then he found the power switch.

  It whirred. He held it up, and Keelin placed the ident card against the reader, held it in place with on glove-covered finger. The machine bleeped a couple of times, and the guard read the data it displayed.

  “Might take a while to sync,” he said.

  Keelin dipped her head. “Time is a passing to be always savoured.”

  The man rolled his eyes, and the older one smirked.

  Dia asked, but there was a hint of appreciation in her tone.

  The official watched the display. He tapped the fingers of his left hand against his leg. Nowhere near his weapon, Keelin noticed. And she’d seen no signs of either of them sussing.

  The device bleeped, spewed out more data. The official looked at it. He nodded.

  “Checks out. Yeah, package waiting for you. Instructions say personal collect.”

  Keelin remembered the scenario Ennis had set up. “We’d rather the documents didn’t pass through too many pairs of hands. A brush can leave a residue of essence, after all.”

 

 

  The man rolled his eyes again, then did something beneath the desk, hidden from view. A door in the wall opposite opened.

  “First left,” he said. “Door straight ahead. Colleague’ll open it. That’s storage. He’ll open the unit, and you can take your stuff.”

  “I’m under instructions to inspect the document file.”

  “Should all be there. Run things tight here.”

  “Nevertheless, I have my instructions. Errors can occur, through misaction or misjudgement, and it would be better for all of us if any such errors were brought to light and corrected at the earliest possible convenience.”

 

 

 

 

  The official muttered, then smiled at Keelin. “Sure. No problem. My colleague’ll give you a couple of minutes. That work for you?”

  “So long as he departs. The nature of those documents might not be suitable for your colleague.” Keelin opened her arms. “I’m sure they’re honourable, but we’d prefer to do things the right way.”

  His eyes glazed over as he sussed, then he nodded. “He says no problem. Going to set a lock on the door, though, while he’s waiting. Procedure.”

  “We understand. Thank you for your compromise.”

  Dia sussed.

 

 

  Keelin almost smiled at that.

  They walked through the door, into the warm, bright corridor. They followed it to the left. A bulky man with a thick beard waited by a plain door. He opened it without speaking, waved them through.

  The room beyond was circular, with about a hundred units around the walls. The man shuffled to one, placed his palm by the terminal, and the unit opened. He slid out the shelf, on which stood a stout metal box. He stepped back.

  “Can give you a couple of minutes. That work for you?”

  “Unless something is amiss,” Keelin said.

  Once the man was back in the corridor‌—‌and Keelin heard the door seal quite clearly‌—‌Keelin rifled through the open box. The paper‌—‌if that’s what it was‌—‌felt strange through her gloves, and the printed text was so small she had to zoom her lenses in to make sense of it.

 

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