The Far Shores (The Central Series) (43 page)

BOOK: The Far Shores (The Central Series)
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“That’s a real good
question,” Katya said softly, watching as the fire slowly came to life. “I’m
not sure I have an answer.”

Timor opened his mouth
to ask another question, then shut it again abruptly, subtly nudging Katya to
be on her guard. Chandi Tuesday and Grigori Aushev emerged from the darkness at
the edge of the steadily expanding firelight, wearing expressions that suggested
this was not a conversation they were eager to have.

Chandi approached while
Grigori stopped a meter short, arms crossed and eyes narrow, as if daring them
to try something. Katya had to suppress the urge to giggle.

“Timor and Katya
Zharova,” Chandi said, extending her hand to Timor. He shook it gently, and
then she offered it to Katya, who just laughed. “I must admit that you were not
my first choices, but it has been rather difficult to locate the leadership of the
Black Sun of late.” Chandi retracted her arm, a stiff and professional smile
plastered across her face. The head scarf she wore had metallic multicolored
threads interspersed within the weave, and they glittered in accordance with
the firelight.

“You must have had
significant troubles, if you settled on us,” Timor offered carefully. “I regret
to inform you that we are quite low in the hierarchy. Perhaps you might try
contacting Josef Martynova’s offices in Central? Even if he is not presently available,
he maintains an extensive staff there.”

“You misunderstand,”
Chandi said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to talk to Josef Martynova. I want
to talk to the leadership of the Black Sun Cartel. Anastasia Martynova is
currently rather obscurely ‘abroad,’ according to her office, and Renton Hall,
her delegated representative in the Committee-at-Large, has proved equally difficult
to contact. But the two of you report directly to Anastasia Martynova, which
makes you the next best thing.”

“We don’t know what you
are talking about,” Katya countered. “I am a candidate for Audits, and Timor is
simply a student at the Academy, though we are both pledged to the Black Sun
Cartel. However...if we
did
know how to contact Anastasia Martynova, is
there a message that you would like us to pass along?”

Chandi shook her head,
iridescent green and blue threads shining in her scarf.

“Not a message. A
conversation that must be had,” Chandi corrected primly. “It seems that we have
an enemy in common.”

“And that would be?”
Timor inquired, with a charming smile.

Grigori scowled and
cracked his knuckles.

“You know as well as I
do,” Chandi said softly. “Thule. We have information that could be very
important to Anastasia Martynova.”

Neither sibling reacted.
Chandi sighed, then continued.

“As an act of good
faith, I will elaborate. Over the past few years, we have become aware that
Miss Martynova has made discrete inquiries into the nature of the Far Shores
facility,” Chandi explained, handing a folded sheet of paper discreetly to
Timor. “She was concerned that certain technological developments made there
appeared to have a great deal in common with salvaged technology attributed to
the Church of Sleep. A notable amount of resources have been dedicated to
exploring the possibility of this connection.”

Timor pocketed the scrap
of paper without looking at it.

“That is all very
obscure,” he observed politely. “How do you know all of this?”

“Irrelevant,” Chandi
said dismissively. “We have discovered the identity of the double agent Miss
Martynova suspected was embedded at the Far Shores. I just provided you a coded
telepathic prompt that will provide the identity of the agent, along with
evidence proving our claim, accessible to any telepath. Keep it secure – the
information came at a price.”

Timor studied Chandi
thoughtfully.

“Assuming this information
proved to be of value – a highly unlikely circumstance – then what would you
hope to gain in recompense?”

“A new understanding,
befitting of our evolving world,” Chandi Tuesday responded bitterly. “Things,
as they say, fall apart.”

 

***

 

“He is so cool!”

“Yeah,” Haley agreed. “Derrida
is pretty cool. You can pet him, if you want. He’s real friendly.”

Eerie reached her hand
out cautiously for the rottweiler mix to inspect. He sniffed it a few times,
then licked her palm, causing Eerie to yelp and take one step back. Haley
laughed, while Eerie rallied, approaching the dog cautiously, hand extended.
The dog sat patiently while Eerie worked up the nerve to gently stroke the back
of his head.

“So cool!”

“Yeah. He is. I wouldn’t
have come here if they hadn’t let me bring my dogs, honestly.”

“You have more?” Eerie’s
dilated eyes were wide. “How many?”

“Four, at the moment.”
Haley crouched beside Derrida to scratch his chest. “I adopted all of them from
the shelter my mom volunteers at before I was recruited. I made my acceptance
conditional on bringing them.”

“Wow!”

Eerie scratched Derrida
behind his ears, and was rewarded by the dog pressing his large head against
her skirt.

“The other three are
cleared for the field, but Derrida is still recovering from a paw injury that
got infected, so he’s staying at the Bio lab here, getting vet treatments. I
haven’t seen him in a couple of days, actually.”

“Poor thing...”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Haley
said, slapping Derrida on the back jovially. “Just clumsy.”

“Derrida is so cool. I
am so jealous.”

Haley stood, brushing
hair from her hands, and looked at Eerie thoughtfully. She knew the Changeling
in a vague way, through Serafina, but their previous interactions had amounted
to saying hello when they encountered each other in hallways or at the pool.
Eerie was part of the rather famous Academy Sewing Circle, but Haley had no
talent or interest for knitting or needlework. Since they were in different
classes, most of what Haley knew about Eerie was based on rumor, not all of it
nice.

“Actually, I’m a little
bit jealous of you,” Haley admitted. “You have a boyfriend.”

Eerie paused in the act
of scratching Derrida’s head. The dog whined and pressed his head repeatedly
against Eerie’s still hand.

“Oh. You mean Alex?”

“Yeah. Who else?”

“Um. Yes. He’s...nice.
You are pretty, though, Haley. And you have dogs! Why don’t you have a
boyfriend?”

Haley didn’t exactly
follow Eerie’s reasoning, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same.

“Thanks, Eerie. That’s
nice of you to say. But I’m a peculiar type of telepath and remote viewer. Boys
are afraid of me. No one wants a living surveillance system for a girlfriend.”

“Huh?”

Haley had to smile at
the genuineness of Eerie’s open-mouthed confusion. She had no trouble
understanding why Alex had fallen for her. In the convoluted and treacherous
environment of Central, the Changeling was refreshingly direct and guileless.

“I can look through
other people’s eyes, Eerie,” Haley explained gently. “Even take control of
their body. When I get close to someone, I end up snooping involuntarily. Even
when I try not to, I pick up bits and pieces. Not many boys are into the idea
of a girl who is constantly staring over their shoulder, even if they don’t have
anything worth keeping secret. People value their privacy, and I can’t give it
to them.”

Eerie stood and stared,
ignoring Derrida’s insistent nudging. Haley wondered if she had come off as
pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” Haley said,
embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to put you off...”

“No,” Eerie said,
standing stock still. “It’s just that I understand.”

“Huh?”

Derrida fell onto his
back, displaying his tan stomach and hopefully waving a paw at Eerie.

“You can keep petting
him,” Haley encouraged. “Don’t mind me.”

“No,” Eerie said sadly. “I
can’t. I probably did too much already.”

Haley was puzzled.

“Why not?”

“Because, my touch...I’m
not sure if it is safe. For dogs. For anyone, really. I’m actually a lot like
you, in that way. My metabolism...”

Haley remembered hearing
something about this.

“Oh! Right. I think
someone told me about that. Something about causing hallucinations, right?”

“Or worse. I never know.
I try not to touch anyone.” Eerie glanced remorsefully down at Derrida, who
whined with eagerness. “I probably shouldn’t have pet him at all. I could have
hurt him. But I really wanted to. And Derrida is so cool!”

“Is it really so
dangerous?”

Eerie nodded solemnly.

“I am not the same, not
human. Not really. And the chemicals my body generates, they can...it’s hard to
explain. Hard to know till it happens. Most people don’t like it. Sometimes
they even get sick.”

“That’s horrible,” Haley
said sympathetically, crouching to scratch Derrida’s stomach. “You poor thing.
That must be so lonely.”

“It was,” Eerie agreed. “Before
Alex. Now it isn’t, not as much.”

“Pardon me if this isn’t
an appropriate question, but I’m really curious – why is it different with him?
Isn’t it...dangerous for him, too?”

“Oh, yes. Very much so.
But you know...” Eerie leaned close, and lowered her oddly musical voice. “I
think maybe he likes it.”

 

***

 

“Are you averse to company?”

Mitsuru didn’t bother to
look to see who was behind her. She was running a surveillance protocol, so
there was no need. She had identified him before he took three steps in her
direction, though they had never actually met before.

“Karim Sabir,” she said,
letting a handful of wet sand fall through her fingers in clumps. “Feel free.
The beach is open to all, as I understand it.”

The Kurd sat down half a
meter away, grunting at the dampness of the sand. He had two paper plates
resting carefully atop each other in his hands, and offered her either.

“Chicken or lamb? I
wasn’t sure which would be to your taste, and I wasn’t certain if your diet
allowed pork or beef...”

“I follow no such
restrictions,” Mitsuru said woodenly. Curiosity quelled her initial impulse to
reject both, and she took the chicken and set it down beside her, having no
intention to eat. Karim seemed pleased with her decision, and selected a kabob
from his own plate. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Sabir.”

“Karim, please. And I
could say the same of you, Miss Aoki.”

“Call me Mitsuru,” she
said tiredly. “The children have ruined my last name for me.”

Karim laughed and
nodded. She watched him while he ate, completely unselfconscious despite her
staring.

“Did you have a
particular intention in joining me, Karim?”

“Hmm?” Karim wiped sauce
from his fingers on a napkin while he considered. “Not as such, no. I suppose I
wanted to introduce myself, since we will be working together.”

“We will meet at the
briefing tomorrow. Is that not sufficient?”

“Perhaps it is. Then
again, perhaps not. I must admit to harboring a certain amount of interest in
you, Mitsuru.”

Her gaze hardened, but
Karim took no notice, maintaining a friendly smile.

“Why is that?”

“Your reputation, I
suppose. You see, despite my exile, I do occasionally have the opportunity to
get a little news from Central – rumors from home, as it were, from sympathetic
parties. The occasions were few and far between, naturally, but when they
arose, I was always eager to hear whatever stories were shared.”

“I see.” Mitsuru queried
the Etheric database, requesting records of every Operator who had visited Iraq
or worked an assignment there in the last several years. “Please, continue.”

“Let’s just say that I
admire your determination. I doubt there has ever been an Auditor whose path to
the job was more difficult. I envy your clarity of purpose.”

“My challenges were
self-inflicted,” Mitsuru pointed out coldly. “I am hardly admirable.”

“Not if you allow for
the bias of my point of view,” Karim said jovially. “We are none of us angels,
Mitsuru. After my punishment was finished, I was not forced to redeem myself
again. And by some measures, my crimes were greater than those assigned to you
by rumor.”

“Desperate times, Karim.”
The implant scrolled a list of names with corresponding dates in the HUD in her
vision. She scanned over rose-colored text until she found the name she was
looking for, and instructed the system to highlight any reoccurrence. There
were eight different visits. “But enough about me. Why don’t you tell me how
you know Alistair?”

Karim smiled as if the
line of questioning pleased him.

“Exactly what I wished
to discuss with you, as it happens.” Karim set his plate aside and clasped his
hands. “I knew Alistair primarily in a professional context. You are aware of
my work as a contractor?”

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