The Rise of Io (13 page)

“It is not right to just intrude on her life and then whisk her away. A host is partners with her Quasing, not a slave.”

“But your safety–”

“My safety is not a worry for now. We will revisit this if it is ever compromised. Besides, I am more than able to handle things on my own.”

“Do you need help with that?”

Io was trying to put the crypto key battery into Ella's phone, but her clumsy control over her host's fingers made it look as if she were trying to pry off the back of the phone wearing mittens. Frustrated, she handed it to Hamilton, who popped the back effortless and placed the crypto key inside.

Io took Ella's phone and accessed the hidden menu with her passphrase. Satisfied, she nodded. “Any word from Command about your status?”

“My auxiliary captain is demanding an update and is threatening to recall me.”

“That may not be a bad idea. I am off-books as it is. No need to risk your career on my account.”

Hamilton harrumphed, raising his chin. “What sort of auxiliary would I be if I abandon my assigned Quasing in a vulnerable state? However, I do wish you would explain your logic behind inhabiting this…” he gestured at Ella “… individual instead of myself. Is it because of what happened during the ambush? I assure you,” – he looked away, ashamed – “it was just a moment of weakness. I have been sick over my inaction and swear it will not happen again.”

Io studied Hamilton's set jaw and clenched fists, and let it go. Telling him to leave her was for his own good, but she couldn't push him too hard. It would just arouse suspicion. Io shook her head. “We will stay until the host wishes to leave of her own accord.”

Hamilton pursed his lips. “What is our mission in the meantime?”

Io pointed west. “The Genjix are building something big over there. Emily died trying to discover the site's purpose. I want to pick up where she left off.”

Her auxiliary shook his head. “Not in your host's current state of preparedness. I'll call in a field scout.”

“That will not be necessary.”

Hamilton crossed his arms. “I've given you a lot of rope so far with your new host. I won't allow her to willfully put you in danger. I'm calling in a scout. Let them do the legwork and present Command with actionable items. This is not negotiable, Io.”

Her auxiliary was probably right. It was stupid to even pretend to use Ella in any sort of field capacity. Io nodded. “Fine. Call one in.”

“Very well. If there's nothing else…” Hamilton stood up and saluted.

Io got up, stretched with the girl's body, feeling each joint twist and pop. The broken arm Ella had suffered two, maybe three years ago would need to be broken again if it was ever to heal properly. She also badly needed a massage. Some of her muscles were incredibly knotted. And this wasn't even scratching the surface of her poor diet, or her heart condition…

Io walked Hamilton to the door and out to the deck. She waited until the sounds of the footsteps on metal stairs disappeared. She took a deep breath, patted the mangy dog eying her expectantly, and then went back inside, locking the door behind her.

Hamilton was right about one thing. Command was already unhappy with Io inhabiting a new host and choosing to stay in a hostile country. She was given some leeway only because the Prophus respected a new host's considerations. To a degree. For how long would depend on if the girl ever became satisfactorily trained. Io was sure both Hamilton and Manish were reporting the girl's progress to Wyatt. The analyst would make the call to extract her if he deemed it necessary. At the rate her training was coming along, Command might feel the need to intervene sooner rather than later, with or without Ella's consent.

Io sat back down on the couch and logged into the laptop. Within minutes, she was in the Prophus network, gathering information on the region and catching up on personal messages. Most were condolences regarding Emily. News of her death had spread quickly. The woman, while low-ranking, was popular among many in the organization. It was very touching. Io wondered how many of the other Quasing blamed her for Emily's death.

She looked in the mirror. “What a mess,” she muttered. No matter what, she had to stay in India until she accomplished her goal. Everything would be all right after that. First things first, Io had to begin making amends for the mistake that had resulted in Emily's death and forced Io to extend her mission.

She picked up a phone and dialed a number. “This is Io. Something is coming down the pipe.”

E
lla had
to admit she immediately took a liking to the man who appeared one morning at her front door. It was something that rarely happened for someone who lived on the streets. He had a gentle and kind face, and reminded her of what she thought her grandfather would be like if she had ever had a grandfather. Of course, some jerk out there had to have been the father of her father, but whatever. She had never met the man, so she might as well assume he didn't exist. But, if she had met him, she'd like to think he would look like this friendly old man.

Still, this was Crate Town, and she was a woman, so she greeted him in the appropriate manner. She brandished her shank and sicced Burglar Alarm on him as he clanged his way up her stairs. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The man, slightly stooped, thin-armed, with a long flowing beard, did not look threatened. If anything, he seemed amused. “Your dog is very pretty. Is your mother home?”

“My amma is dead.”

The man looked taken aback, and then she saw the sympathy in his eyes. “Then you must be the person I'm here to see.”

He walked up another step. Burglar Alarm was barking bloody murder. Ella stepped forward and waved the shank near his face. “One more step and you won't be able to see at all.”

The man held up his hands and spoke in a soft voice. “There is a reality so subtle.”

It took Command their sweet time to send someone.

“What? What crazy are you saying, Io?”

Repeat after me. That it becomes more real than reality.

Ella wasn't paying that close attention so she gave it her best shot. “It's more real than real?”

The man frowned. “You're new, aren't you?”

“New to what?”

“The Prophus. The job. Being an operative.”

It was Ella's turn to make a face. “I didn't know I was one.”

The man smiled. “Well, if you're working for us, then welcome to the family.”

“Am I, Io?”

Yes, you are. Congratulations, you are now officially logistical support for the Prophus in this region.

“What does that mean?”

It means when agents run operations here, you are here to provide support: food, housing, equipment, and expert knowledge on the local area.

“Sounds an awful lot like I'm running a hotel.”

Logistical support sounds more official.

“How much does it pay?”

Is this all you think about?

“Yes.”

The man standing at the doorway interrupted her negotiations with Io by sticking out his hand. “I'm Bijan. Bijan Baraghani.”

Ella shook it. “Ella. This is Burglar Alarm.”

Bijan scanned the area and then looked at her half-opened container door. “Can we go inside?”

Ella became suspicious again. “Why do you want to come into my home?”

Let him in. He is a Prophus scout here to conduct surveillance on the construction site at Command's request. Your job is to assist him.

“Why can't I do that survey thing? I know Crate Town like the back of my hand.”

Because you have no idea how to survey. However, you know Crate Town like the back of your hand, so show him around. He will probably use your home as his base of operations.

“Since when are you renting my home out and booking me as a tour guide?”

Since you got on our payroll.

Greed overcame outrage. Ella made a face like she had just smelled something foul. “Fine.” This free money she was getting from the Prophus was getting less and less free by the day.

Fifteen minutes later, Bijan had settled into her couch, and she had laid out the ground rules. The man was allowed to stay in the living room side of her home, but her bedroom was off limits. This also wasn't a hotel, so she wasn't cleaning up after him, nor was she going to feed him. Also, the bathroom was hers, so he would have to shower and relieve himself outside.

Your hospitality skills could use some work.

Bijan seemed to take her many rules seriously and in his stride. He even jotted down notes and asked her questions about some of the particulars, specifically the use of her toilet, which really was nothing more than a hole outside in the corner of the catwalk next to Burglar Alarm's nest. He sat down on her lumpy couch, which was doubling as his bed for the next week – he had assured her his mission wasn't going to last longer than that – and looked around. “Now that I'm settled, I'm hungry.”

“I told you,” she snapped. “This isn't a hotel. There's no room service.”

He smiled. “Can I take you out to lunch, Ella? As a thank you for putting up with an old man?”

That shut Ella up, and she stared at the ground, slightly ashamed. She spoke in a small voice. “Well, all right if you're paying.”

Can you take realizing you are an asshole a little more gracefully?

“You're the asshole, Io.”

Ella…

“It'll give me a chance to show you around,” she said gruffly.

“Excellent,” said Bijan. “And thank you again for your hospitality.”

“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath. People acting too nice weirded her out.

The two spent the next half hour wandering the narrow streets of Crate Town. Ella showed Bijan the safer main streets to use and the alleys to avoid where some of the meaner street rat gangs holed up. She walked him through the shortcut along the canal leading back to her container, and pointed out the tall cluster stacks he could use as landmarks in case he got turned around. She familiarized him with Wiry Madras's bathhouse and laundry, pointed out the decent restaurants, and took him to Twine Alley when he asked where to buy changes of clothing.

They settled on a restaurant she had never been to before to try some American food. This was a first for her, so she let Bijan, who claimed to have been to the States at least twice, order for them. He got her what they called a lamb cheeseburger. After being such a big fan of their film and culture, Ella was completely underwhelmed by her first taste of supposed American cuisine. She took one bite and gagged. “There's no seasoning, and it tastes undercooked.”

“That's how they do it in the Americas, I think.”

Certain types of raw meat are a delicacy in many countries.

“Raw anything is disgusting!”

During their disappointing lunch, Ella got to know Bijan. She was surprised to learn that he had grandchildren. Shouldn't he be bouncing toddlers off his knees and chasing them in the yard as opposed to, well, whatever it was he did for the Prophus? She realized she still had not grasped all the nuances of this war between the alien sides.

Bijan chuckled. “I suppose I should be playing with young Omid and Jaleh back in Tehran. However, this sort of work is all I've ever known, and the Prophus have a horrible retirement package. Also, my dearest wife, Leila, may Allah cherish her forever, loves me more than life, but can only put up with me in small doses. If I never leave the house, she really will be the cause of my death.”

After lunch, Ella took him to the marketplaces for things he could buy legally, and introduced him to Little Fab for things he couldn't. She berated Little Fab until he offered the Prophus agent a good discount on a pair of military thermal binoculars the fence had had in his possession for years. Bijan's own pair had cracked during his trip here.

It was early evening by the time they parted ways. Bijan walked Ella back to her cluster and then hoisted his pack over his shoulder. “Don't wait up for me. I'll probably be gone all night. When I return, how do I get inside?”

“Just knock,” she said. “I'm a light sleeper. If I don't hear it, Burglar Alarm will wake me.”

Bijan nodded. “Thank you for showing me around, Ella. I'll see you in a few hours.”

She felt a strange tightening in her gut. She called out to Bijan as he turned to leave. “Be careful. If any of the street rat gangs try anything, you give them my name and tell them I will beat them into the mud if they bother you.”

He grinned. “Don't you worry about me, girl. I've been doing this job for a long time, and this one is as by the books as they come. Tomorrow, why don't we try sushi for lunch? Can you find a restaurant that's not too far away?”

“Sure,” Ella beamed.

“Io, what's sushi?”

You will absolutely hate it.

Before going to bed that night, Ella looked up what sushi was, and then went to sleep wishing she hadn't. The lone restaurant in Surat that served Japanese cuisine was on the opposite side of the city in an upper-class neighborhood that she never had reason to step foot in. The very thought of eating fish raw made her want to puke. Still, if someone else was buying, who was she to turn it down? Ella fell asleep looking forward to spending time with her new friend.

The next morning, she woke up alone. Bijan's things were untouched. He had not returned that night. Ella waited until late afternoon before finally leaving her home. She went to the markets and to Wiry Madras's and Fab's Art Gallery to see if the kind old man had stopped by. He hadn't, and Ella never saw or heard from him again.