Rogue(121)

“This is an Earth ship.”

“Yeah, can’t be helped. I’ll be discreet.”

I assumed they read the message, and I assumed they knew the background, but I kept it in phrased language. I wasn’t going to compromise even an outdated code, and without context, it should be safe enough. I sent, “No luck. Intercepted. Regrouping.”

Then all we could do was wait. There was nothing we could access on the nodes without compromising more, apart from watching the news.

I became more distraught as it went on. The combination of age, refreshed post-combat stress, distance from my daughter and the ongoing wear of the mission had gotten me. I couldn’t do any more. I’d only succeeded in hurting Randall’s arm, blowing his cover, killing his assets and destroying his main patron. Good stuff, all, but he was still alive and still operating. We are just that hard to take out. Naumann was going to have to bite the bullet, send an entire platoon, and accept the visibility.

Insystem in the Freehold, I felt a bit better. They were on my territory now, and I was pretty sure my word could hold this ship. Not that I needed that. The crew had been keeping an eye on us, but relaxed somewhat now.

We were off fast enough to satisfy them. I needed to get groundside fast, find better intel and decide if I was going to bother with continuing, take the kid and disappear again, or try to settle back down. None of it appealed.

One thing bothered me. We presented immunization declaration, and it was accepted. No test was done. It used to be standard that everyone was tested for bloodborne pathogens before system entry, including diplomats. Inviolable law. Apparently, it had been reinterpreted so a doctor’s declaration was sufficient, and they didn’t check on the status of the doctor too much. I’d hoped we’d have a confirmable DNA trace on Randall. No such luck.

We boarded a Skywheel shuttle and headed for the surface and Jefferson Starport.

Quietly, but without worrying about mics, I told Silver, “First thing is a hotel. Discreet. I can’t rush home and we can’t rush on base.”

“Understood,” she said.

At least here it was easy. We were down without luggage to worry about; we’d pick it up later from claims. We were outside in hot, bright summer Iolight within seconds after debarking. We took a cab to the Renaissance and checked in. All they cared about was the cash and our polite request for a third-floor room. That would slow any potential attackers, and I could jump it if I had to.

“I need to debrief before I go home,” I said. I didn’t want to go straight to my daughter. I wanted some distance for both moral safety, and in case anyone was tracking me. We’d have to do some sanitizing to make sure we were safe, and keep an eye on Earth. I wasn’t overly worried about the government, but out of twenty-eight billion, some vengeful psycho was inevitable. If one decided to fund a trip out here . . .

“Good idea,” she said. “I’m sorry the evasion on Earth didn’t work.”

“Not your fault. He obviously had some prep time and gear in place. We did not. Had we used embassy resources, it would only have made the leak bigger. You did well.”

“It feels like failure,” she said.

“It is failure, but that doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. We did hurt him, a lot. He’s also more visible, but that was probably unavoidable. That hinders his operations, though. He’s made himself a pop star assassin. Not what it takes. He was always good at the short term, never a long-term thinker.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“You’re welcome, and I’ll be reporting it as such. Not to help your career, but because it’s true.”

She just nodded. We were both wrung out.

I sat down and sighed.

I was able to reach my own accounts, and went through the tedious process of deleting stuff that didn’t apply, authorizing stuff that had enough interest I wanted to look at it, filing stuff to follow up later. I’d have to work on the business again, too; it had atrophied of course, with months of doing nothing. I still wasn’t sure if a node was smart. I was known now. Not widely, and hopefully the story would be minor old news for most, but for Earth I was a monster, and for some reason here I was a hero. Neither appealed.

Then I saw a message entitled, “Trone Street.”

I really wanted these tingles of impending doom to stop, but there were too many reasons for them. I opened the message, and yes, I was scared.

“Call me. Urgent,” and a code.

I showed it to Silver, and asked, “Do we have a vacant phone?”

“I can get one from the hotel shop. There’s a coded repeater close enough we can use it. He won’t track us here.”