Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1) (10 page)

“Sir, these files will assist you. They contain information that has not been entered into our computer because we have not verified it. If you also access transaction files for these accounts—” He still was worried. “Of course this is irregular, highly irregular.” He stopped, realizing perhaps his own irregularities had brought him to this situation.

“Please ensure we are not disturbed. I can access transaction files from here. Check back in about three hours. I may be finished. Oh, and I need funds, cash, a new credit stick, and so forth. All drawn against the shareholders’ account.”

“Yes, sir. It will all be ready for when you leave.” The worried man bowed and departed.

Steg turned to the autofile carrier and lifted bundles of glass storage containers onto the desk. The small memory units each could hold many terabytes of data. He realized the search would be lengthy. “Tziksis, this will take some time. Please guard the door for me; I do not want to be disturbed—no interruptions until I have finished here.”

The little alien clicked furiously and positioned himself beside the door so that anyone opening it would only partially succeed. Steg busied himself with the files, accessing glass after glass of data. He used simple search and list programs to extract and display the items he required. Gradually he constructed profiles of various officers of the Fleet who had accounts with the bank. Related transactions would reveal who had illicit funds and thus he would be able to identify those officers who needed money and who were taking bribes for selling commissions in the Fleet.

At last he had a short list of names and personal details of officers who could possibly assist him. He traced their transactions with care, accessing detail after detail, seeking the highest ranking officer who was most exposed by his conduct and debts. He studied personal details as well. At last he found his target. The transaction details together with personal data and conjecture, provided him with the leverage he required. He issued a fund transfer instruction and sat for a while, deep in thought, as the printer spat out pages of data.

The room was warm and from somewhere distant he could hear spasmodic waves of soft music bringing with them a compulsion to relax. He felt his eyelids grow heavy and close. He drifted, half asleep. For a moment he thought that the banker had set a trap for him and he fought against the growing loss of consciousness. Waves of sleep-inducing music washed over him and then pounded harder and harder, bringing with them the now familiar rush and flow of symbols framed in intense green light. Groups of words rushed at him, crashing against him, impinging onto his awareness. Steg struggled again to throw off the induced lethargy but he was caught, enmeshed in a dream web that bound him tighter and tighter the more he struggled to free himself. The induced sleep condition at last won the struggle and he relaxed, accepting rather than fighting the dream web. His mind ceased its furious turmoil and his struggles ceased. His alarm faded. The green words slowed and the spiral moved closer and closer, absorbing him as he was drawn into its center until at last the spinning, spiraling word streams shattered, exploding into sparkling razor sharp fragments of green light. For a moment he hung suspended in blackness as the broken shards of green moved away and faded into the distance. A whispering multitude of mechanical voices reached out to him, they echoed and resonated, gradually building force and gaining cohesion. He realized the composite voice structure was addressing him.

*Steg de Coeur, this is Althere Complex. Steg de Coeur, concentrate. Listen to this voice. Listen carefully. Acknowledge contact.*

The sounds clarified and increased in volume and urgency. Steg fought to listen, to concentrate on the echoing instructions. The sound exploded and shattered, fire chards of noise pierced his mind and the sharp corners of broken words stabbed him. He screamed silently, submerged in artificial sleep.

*Stop. Stop. I hear you,* he shouted into his subconscious world in an attempt to halt the pain.

*Don’t fight the communication, Steg de Coeur. Relax and look for the message flow. Relax.*

*I—I will try. But the pain—pain—*

*The pain will go away once you relax. Now relax, relax.*

Steg struggled to ignore the sharp threads of pain that were wrapped around his mind and he used the discipline taught to him by his Swordmaster. He relaxed. Gradually his tension eased. Pain softened and disappeared. The word flow re-appeared and merged into a coherent structure with a composite voice. At last he could see-hear the message flow.

*This is Althere Complex, acting as relay for Glass Complex. Acknowledge.*

*Steg de Coeur.*

The mental aural communication deepened in timbre and the colors of the word strips glowed more brightly.

*Glass Complex message follows. House of Aluta forces are concerned that you succeeded in escaping offplanet and have now posted a reward for your arrest. Complex is attempting to disrupt distribution of these notices. All detected images have been modified so that they do not match your appearance. However some notices may have reached enforcement audiences before our alterations were made. We are changing these as they come to light. The notices describe you as a traitor to the Empire although detailed charges have not been included. They have traced your current identity so you must obtain replacement cover. They have not traced your whereabouts. Proceed as planned with new cover. Obtain assistance as needed from Althere Complex. Message ends.*

The voice fell silent and the word flow ceased, although Steg could still sense an unfamiliar presence.

*Wait,* he instructed. *Don’t go away. What is happening—only Acolytes have the ability to communicate mind to computer?*

*Althere Complex to Steg de Coeur. Do not fear this contact. Althere Complex can advise that Glass Complex installed a program here for the interface necessary to communicate with you. This complex is acting as an extension of Glass Complex.*

Steg fell silent. He was stunned as full understanding dawned. He had often observed the Acolytes and wondered at the empathy he had felt when watching them in their almost symbiotic relationship with the huge computer system known as Glass Complex. Perhaps this empathy came about as a result of an unsensed and unrealized ability to emulate them. He stopped the rush of conjecture and unanswerable questions, deferring further analysis until a time when he would be in direct contact with Acolytes who could provide answers. He returned his attention to his immediate problems.

*Althere Complex, I need new identity papers. Are you able to provide these?*

*Yes. Waiting instructions.*

Steg gave the necessary instructions, selecting and defining parameters for his new identity. Althere Complex would arrange production of everything from identity cards to shuttle license and for these to be delivered to his hotel. Even star ship certifications and academic records matching his own, would be prepared and copies inserted into local systems. He would need to rely on the reach of Glass Complex to ensure suitable records were inserted into remote source systems.

Then he remembered the fraudulent activities of the senior bank staff and entered details. *Advise Glass Complex of my activities here and of my discoveries.* He provided details.

*Completed.*

Steg raised his head from the desk. It had not been a soft cushion. He looked around, surprised his experience had not disturbed the calm of the small office. Tziksis still guarded the door. His papers were undisturbed. And stacks of glass data containers remained in place.

“Tziksis, I’m finished here. I’ll get that banker back and conclude our visit.” Steg used the comunit on the desk and within seconds the banker knocked on the door. His nervousness was hardly diminished by Steg’s assurance that he had all the data he required. The banker handed over a new credit stick and local currency that Steg had requested, the latter necessary to ensure his local expenditures could not be traced.

“Finally,” advised Steg. “I need letters of introduction—” He paused. “Are any official functions or ceremonies scheduled for the next few days, where officers from the Imperial Fleet are likely to attend?”

“W-why yes. We have many such occasions. Althere takes great pride in its Imperial functions and relationships with the Fleet. The civil functions are well known for their color and extravagances, for the dignitaries who attend. Why I remember one occasion—”

“Good. I need an invitation to the next one—when will it be?”

“Tomorrow evening. An invitation? But you—“

“But nothing. The bank undoubtedly has access to invitations? Excellent. You can arrange one for me, and ensure I am presented as a favored client of the bank, of some worth.”

******

Chapter 9

“Young master most colorful is,” clicked Tziksis
as Steg checked his reflection.

“Yes, Tziksis. Your tailor friend is certainly doing good business. I only hope he is correct about the fashion and style of evening wear for tonight.” Steg swirled his new light blue cloak. “I feel like a colored target.” He grimaced as he examined the crisp white color of his trousers and jacket, contrasting with the deep orange shirt. He shook down his ruffled shirt cuffs and turned away from the mirror.

“Worry not, master youngness. Target not be. Attraction for young ladies is certain.”

“Tziksis, I could be a target tonight, so I want you to carry my weapons pack—Ebony plus whatever else you have acquired for me. You can act as bodyguard and come running if you hear my signal.”

“Signal, oh youthfulness?”

“Yes. Here, take this comunit and if it buzzes, track me down immediately, because I’ll need help. Understand? Otherwise I’ll call you when I need to leave.” Steg stowed his new identification and other documents in an inside jacket pocket.

“Tziksis understands and will arrive with all haste,” assured the little alien as he scrambled across the room to collect Ebony.

The hired aircar and driver were waiting to take them to the location of the evening’s function, the Imperial Governor’s official residence on Althere. Steg had decided small autocabs did not provide adequate protection and had arranged for a heavier vehicle, which, according to its owners, was capable of surviving a major assault. He hoped this somewhat ambitious claim would not be put to the test, at least not while he was a passenger. Because their destination was well out of the city and as the journey would take over an hour, he settled back and relaxed, absorbing only part of the commentary provided by the driver.

The aircar settled onto the small landing pad and then joined the stream of vehicles heading to the well-lit and obviously well-guarded entrance of their destination. Steg noted a considerable amount of air traffic that was cleared for descent directly into the vast grounds surrounding the Imperial Governor’s mansion. Apparently favored guests of the governor were able to by-pass the stop-start progression from the roadway. He mentally compared the resplendent building with those on Homeworld and realized the mansion was far larger than the turreted, rock-hewn castle that overlooked Castlehome.

Steg joined the throng of minor dignitaries and other guests who were wending their way up a series of carved marble steps to an ornate entrance. Security guards were posted along the rows of marble columns and unobtrusively checked each guest’s identity and invitation as they passed by. Steg could see cameras monitoring overall progress and relaxed when a guard waved him though after a brief consultation and validation process. As the crowd, a mixture of humans and aliens, chattered their way forward and into the reception hall, Steg was relieved to see the style and color of his attire was not outstanding amongst his fellow guests. He soon found a drink and moved to explore the huge room and its displays of art treasures before seeking out his target.

“Sir, your invitation please.”

The request broke his concentration. The Imperial Security Officer—a captain—was polite yet firm and his elaborate ceremonial uniform did not disguise his trained toughness. Steg patted his jacket pockets and produced his invitation and identity papers. These were carefully scrutinized and returned. “Thank you, sir. I have been instructed to ask you to proceed directly through the reception hall to room five in the Library wing.”

Steg hid his surprise and consternation. “Perhaps you could direct me?”

“Sir, rather than give you directions, I will accompany you.”

He followed the Imperial Security captain and grew more concerned as he observed a number of heads turning to watch his progress across the huge reception hall. Well, he thought, this is surely one way to not keep a low profile, following a ceremonially dressed officer across a crowded room, through a gathering of some five hundred guests. At least he was dressed for the occasion.

The captain led him out of the crowd and along a long wide corridor. Heavy carpet muffled their passing. The corridor was softly lit and small spotlights drew his attention to numerous paintings and other small works of art displayed along the walls. Under different circumstances he would have stopped to examine them but the captain did not slacken his pace and Steg was unable to catch more than tempting and transitory glimpses. For a brief moment he was reminded of Castlehome, of the small but valuable collection that adorned the main hall of the Castle. Eventually the officer halted outside a paneled and carved door. He knocked and opened it, motioning Steg forward. “Please enter, sir. I’ll leave you now.”