Search & Recovery: A Retrieval Artist Universe Novel (10 page)

She flushed. Androids weren’t supposed to have the ability to judge. They were simply machines that worked on a higher level than the bots that cleaned the place.

She was paranoid and knew it. Not that paranoid was the right word. Pesty. The investigators here thought she wanted to do joint investigations more than was healthy.

But she always figured it didn’t hurt to ask.

She had learned not to ask the receptionist to let her pass. She just walked by as if she belonged here. If the damn thing wanted to stop her, it could.

Behind the door, the offices were a Disty-warren of clutter and low ceilings. The design was no coincidence. The first head of the Joint Unit had been Disty, until he was dismissed because he funneled too much information to the Disty government.

A lot of joint security investigations in those dark days had ended in Disty Vengeance Killings before that head had been replaced.

There had been nearly two dozen heads since then, from all different species. The current head was a fussy Peyti male named Xyven. He had one of the highest closure rates the investigative department had ever seen, first in the Peyti Investigative Unit, and then in the Joint Human/Alien Unit. But Huỳnh always felt his management skills left something to be desired.

She grabbed an environmental suit from the rack just inside the Unit. She never brought her own to work, probably because she never thought she’d need it.

Contrary to what some of her colleagues thought, she didn’t come to work every day thinking that she would head into the Joint Unit for a casual chat and an invitation to a joint investigation.

She stepped into the nearest restroom to slip the suit on. She used to put the suits on in the hallway, but she eventually learned that wasn’t the brightest idea. She’d had more than one skirt ride up to her shoulders as she tried it.

This time, her clothing stayed in place—but of course, she’d picked a suit of the right size. She hated using the company mask, but she knew they had a coating made of nanocleaners that theoretically removed all traces of the previous wearer.

Sometimes, though, she was just too trusting. Or maybe she really did need to bring her own suit to work.

She slipped out of the restroom and headed down the main corridor to Xyven’s office. A divider separated the Peyti part of the unit from the human part. She placed a gloved hand on the divider, and tapped her personal code into the material. She also tilted her head so that it could do a retinal scan.

It took a moment, and she temporarily thought her access was going to be denied.

Then a door in the divider pivoted a few degrees, just wide enough to let her in. She stepped into the tiny bubble that the door created to prevent the atmospheres from mixing.

The door closed and the bubble vanished. She now had to wade through the murk that was a Peyti-normal environment.

Peyla was a relatively bright planet, with good light from a young sun. She never understood why the Peyti preferred their space environment to be dimmer than the human environment. Of course, she never asked either.

Xyven’s office was at the end of a long corridor. The Peyti atmosphere was thicker than Earth normal, so she always felt like she was swimming even though the gravity was the same.

The door at the end of the corridor opened, and Xyven stood just inside, his long arms spread from door jamb to door jamb. He was spindly, even for a Peyti, and his thin arms looked more like taut rope than like sticks.

He had a pointed chin and almond shaped eyes. It had taken her years to realize that Peyti whose names began with a Xi sound had different facial features as well. Those features were as subtle as changes in human features—something only those deeply familiar with the species would notice.

She also noticed that his gray skin was tinged blue, a sign of emotional distress.

Again
? He sent.

She sighed. He was going to criticize her for asking for another joint investigation as well? Didn’t anyone
think
in the Security Division?

I told you to check in at reception
, he sent.

Her lips twitched. She almost smiled, but knew better. He hadn’t been angry at her about a new possible investigation, but about her usual lack of protocol.

Apparently the android in reception had recognized her, or had had some kind of reaction to her intrusion into the unit. It had probably been flagged to look for her.

Check in so that you can have an underling deal with me?
she asked, knowing it sounded bitchy, but not caring.

Xyven’s skin turned a darker blue. Her barb had hit. He let his arms drop, and he stepped deeper into the office, not quite inviting her in, but not keeping her out either.

She walked inside as if it were her office, not that it could ever be.

Xyven’s office had some human furniture, scaled down to accommodate his slight form. It also had strangely shaped Whetting furniture, with the holes and tubes that accommodated the Whetting’s multi-appendage form.

Other things scattered around the room looked like sculpture to Huỳnh, even though Xyven had once told her that everything on the floor was furniture of one kind or another.

He was a collector of alien things. Apparently his home—a penthouse apartment in the Peyti-only building near hers—was filled with curiosities and artifacts from almost every species he’d interacted with.

Xyven seemed to prefer the human furniture, probably because it was similar in style to furniture the Peyti used regularly. He retreated to the tall, narrow chair that he had used on previous visits with her.

I don’t have time for a long chat today,
he sent. He preferred to use links, even inside his office. More than that, the links he insisted on kept a record of the conversation. He claimed he preferred it, because of the lessons he had learned as an investigator.

Some in the human unit believed he did it to prevent any kind of strife. They thought that knowing they were being recorded would change people’s behavior.

Maybe it would change some people’s behavior, but it didn’t change Huỳnh’s.

Have you been following the events on the Moon?
She sent him. She hovered near a chair in front of him, but wasn’t sure if she could sit down. While this environmental suit didn’t make her clothing ride up, it was tight enough to make bending uncomfortable.

You are referring to the Anniversary Day massacres,
he sent.

I’ve never heard them called “massacres,”
she sent.

Millions have died, including many, many of my people. What else would you call it?
He sent.

The media are calling this the Anniversary Day attacks.

He shrugged, his thin little shoulders rising up past his pointed chin. When Peyti made that movement with a mask on, it seemed unnatural. When they did it without their masks, it seemed like an affectation.

The end result is the same
, he sent.
Murder on a vast scale
.

Yes,
she sent, and decided to sit down anyway, despite the fact it was uncomfortable. She could feel the edge of the chair through the thin material of the suit.

You are handling the investigative oversight?
He sent.

I am,
she sent.
These attacks are coordinated and they were planned years ago. I’m not finding much in my investigation here, so I’m going to assemble a large team and send a lot of them to aid in the investigations on the Moon
.

Good thinking,
he sent.
I’m sure the Moon can use all the help it can get.

He put his spindly hands on the chair’s arms and levered himself up.

It seems that you have the investigation well in hand. I appreciate the update.

She didn’t move.
I’m not here to give you an update.

The blue in his skin, which had been fading, rose again. But he sat down.

I want Peyti, Disty, and other non-human investigators to be part of those teams,
she sent.
Only you can authorize that
.

This is not a joint human/alien investigation
, he sent, folding his hands over the center of his torso.
This close to Earth, the attacks are a human problem.

This close to Mars,
she countered,
the attacks are a Disty problem
.

He couldn’t argue with that; the Disty controlled Mars, just like humans controlled Earth.

He tilted his head sideways, his version of acknowledging her point. His skin had faded to its usual gray.

The Moon is considered a satellite of the Earth
, he sent, and something in the tone of the linked message added condescension. Or maybe it was just his wording.
That makes the attacks a human problem, solved by human law, investigated by humans. Besides, the attackers are human
.

Not under Alliance law
, she reminded him. Two could play the condescension game.
Clones are not human. They’re property.

Human clones point to a human perpetrator
, he sent.

I’m sure that’s what the real perpetrators want us to think,
she sent. The suit was digging into her thighs and her stomach. It was starting to itch. She had to use incredible self-control not to shift in her chair.

You seem to know who the real perpetrators are
, he sent.

No, I don’t
, she sent,
and an attack this big and this long in the making should be easy to trace. By now, someone should have taken credit for it.

Don’t you believe the credit is in those clones?
He sent.

I thought so at first,
she sent,
but they’re some other kind of message, one I don’t entirely understand yet. Oh, and by the way, in case you haven’t been following this closely, they’re clones of a serial killer, which makes them illegal. They might’ve been made in the Alliance, but only by some kind of criminal company. I’m voting for something outside of the Alliance. So our investigation is going to have to span the Alliance anyway. Why not make it easier, and bring in every species that lost more than one hundred members in the attacks?

Because that’s not how joint investigations originate, and you know it
, he snapped.

I know that joint investigations happen when you approve them
, she sent.

And I see no reason to believe that non-human investigators will add to our understanding of these massacres. The loss of life of all species is tragic, but it is clear to me and clear to anyone who studies the footage of that day that these attacks were focused at the Moon, a human-centric Earth satellite. Which keeps these investigations squarely in your department and not part of mine
.

It had been a long shot. She knew that, and she still felt disappointed that he said no. Worse, she felt disappointed that he wouldn’t concede her point: that there was no way to know who or what had authorized the attacks.

Have you thought about how huge this is?
she sent.
How deep inside the Alliance it is? How much planning went into it, and how close these attackers came to destroying the Moon? I think it was just luck that they didn’t
.

I think you have too many preconceptions,
he sent.
Make certain the investigators you send into the field have none.

She stood, shaking a little, not from the cut-off blood flow due to the suit’s tightness, but due to a fury she was having trouble containing. She hated the way that Xyven refused to consider most joint investigations.

It was as if he saw his job as preventing investigations instead of authorizing them.

I was trying to make certain that the investigators I sent into the field had no preconceptions
, she sent.
But you just guaranteed that they’ll conduct a human-only investigation. And that means that if the perpetrators, whoever they are, used famous DNA to create those human clones to throw us off some non-human motive, they’ve succeeded
.

You’re reaching,
he sent.

I’m trying to be thorough,
she sent.
What’s your excuse?

His mouth opened slightly. Apparently he wasn’t used to anyone talking to him like that, particularly since the conversations were always recorded.

If I were your boss,
he started.

You wouldn’t be
, she interrupted.
You’re too rigid.

What would you do?
His skin was bright blue now.
Quit?

Petition for your removal,
she snapped.
It’s easier when you’re a subordinate. Unfortunately, I’d have a tougher time with you as it is, since we’re in different departments. But I think your lack of vision will bite you on the ass at some point.

Colorful,
he sent, apparently not noticing the irony. She hadn’t ever seen him that vivid a blue.
But irrelevant. I have closed more cases than you.

And I’ve managed more investigators than you
, she sent.
I actually believe my staff can do the jobs they’re assigned. I don’t go out of my way to ensure that they have nothing to do. I send my people into the field
.

Wasting resources and costing the division money,
he sent.

Solving crime and finding perpetrators,
she sent.
And I’ll do it here, with or without your help.

Without
, he sent.
Definitely without.

She shot him a look filled with all the fury she’d been trying to suppress. Bastard. Did he just not care about the fact that millions had died? That the Earth Alliance had suffered a serious blow? That this kind of planning wasn’t just a one-time thing?

Was he all about his job?