Up Against It - M. J. Locke [50]
“Where are we going?” Kamal asked.
Geoff struggled into his suit, trying not to wince. He was going to hurt even worse tomorrow. “To find Ian.” He belted himself onto his bike and ran through his prelaunch checks of air and fuel and suit environmentals. Amaya’s arms crossed and her lips thinned.
“He can go to hell,” she said. Geoff eyed her.
“Seriously,” she said. “I have had it with him. He’s a shit.”
Geoff sighed. “He’s injured. It’s three hours back to Phocaea. Joey Spud always said, the Big Empty is a motherfucker. I’m not ready to lose anybody else I care about. Not even Ian when he’s in jerk mode.”
He did not wait for their answer, but finished suiting up. After a moment he heard them go for their own bikes, and felt relieved.
* * *
After the memorial Jane went to see her mentor, Chikuma Funaki. Aswarm in “Stroider” glitter, Jane stood at the gate at the Funaki family estate in Path of Seven Stones.
Chikuma approached. Her deliberate gait was not because she was old—antiage meds and exercise had kept her in good shape, for a woman closer to two hundred years old than one—and not because of the gee pull, though her home was in one of the heaviest districts in town. She simply did not see the point in hurrying. She had told Jane once that she preferred to take stock of the world as she went. There was always more time for reflection and appreciation of one’s surroundings, she said, than people credited. It was simply a matter of setting one’s priorities.
Chikuma unlocked the gate. As with Benavidez, the “Stroiders” infestation was not allowed into Chikuma’s home; a curtain of sparks and hissings—antimote spray—erupted around her as Jane passed through the gate. They bowed.
“Thank you so much for making the time to see me.”
“Not at all,” Chikuma said, “not at all.” She tucked her arm through Jane’s and escorted her through the house to the little garden where Chikuma preferred to hold tea ceremonies.
They knelt at the low table. Chikuma’s eldest great-great-great-great-granddaughter Yoko served them jasmine tea imported from Earth, and cakes. They chatted for a bit, exchanging news of their families. As Yoko departed, she knelt by the door and opened the valves on two small tanks there. A faint mist filled the air. It chilled Jane as it settled on her skin, and had a faint, spicy scent—cardamom, or turpentine. Then she bowed deeply, and left, closing the rice-paper shoji behind her.
Jane’s eyebrows went up, and she looked at her sensei.
“More protective enzymes,” Chikuma said. “A specially concocted blend. We’ve installed other new antispy measures as well.”
“Not taking any chances, I see.”
“There have been developments. You’ve heard Ogilvie & Sons is behind this?”
“I have,” Jane replied. “Their legal representative in the ice negotiation is a Nathan Glease, an attorney from Mars whose law firm is associated with the Ogilvie family. He just tried to bribe me.”
“Yes?” Chikuma’s eyebrows floated up on her wrinkled forehead.
“Yes. Also, my stores chief Sean came to me this morning with evidence that the warehouse incident was sabotage. I believe Glease must be responsible for it, but I don’t yet have proof. I just wonder what the hell else he has been up to.”
“Do you know who Benavidez has assigned to close the ice deal?”
“The prime minister himself is handling the negotiations.”
They were quiet for a few moments, sipping tea. Chikuma said, “We believe Ogilvie & Sons has already infiltrated parts of Phocaea’s power structure. We have to know who their local allies are.”
Jane eyed her sensei, appalled. “What a dreadful notion. Likely suspects? Do you have a list?”
Chikuma tilted her head; the jewel ornaments in her hair bobbed, catching the light. “Anyone who benefits if the current power structure is overturned. I can think of several, offhand. The opposition party. An ambitious official in Benavidez’s organization. Someone local with connections to a large shipping conglomerate we don’t currently service. The Viridians.”
“Whoa … wait.