Rogue(96)

“Is it an Earth flag?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” Yeah, I couldn’t call up the UN and give them that info. Call me a coward, but having the largest government in history aware of my presence after I’d killed six billion of its subjects was not on my list of things to do.

“Get us on the next one. Fast. Use the best ID you have. They will check it.”

“How are we traveling?”

“Married couple. Museum tours. We’ll need to be mid-wealthy.”

“I have one we can make work.” She opened a screen, grabbed fresh ID and ran a charge.

“We need to lift in two hours. So we need to leave now.”

“Only essentials, and be leery even of the papers. Can you fab more on Earth?”

“Not easily, but yes.”

“We want nothing questionable. Dump it all. Save two spares you can easily conceal.”

“Are we calling Marquardt?”

“Yes, after we abandon the car at the port, right as we lift. Delay time the transmission.”

“Understood.”

She rose, went over and grabbed a bag. I had mine, both a common garment hard case and a basic shoulder bag. She threw clothes, tossed gear, and in two minutes said, “Ready.”

This is why I can never get along with civilian women.

We gathered up everything dispensable, stuffed it into another bag, and I tossed that into the car’s hold. We’d abandon it en masse for Marquardt. The IDs and other technical items I tossed into the burner, lit them, and stood there for five minutes dousing them with fuel to ensure adequate destruction.

I drove, she watched for threats. That was just the state of things now. I didn’t think we’d be any safer on Earth, though, and this was going to be a mental ordeal for me.

We parked in the exchange area—set up for meeting arrivals—then took a slide into the terminal. We cleared the process in minutes; the NovRos are nice people.

When we reached the station, there was a message waiting from Marquardt. It was cordial enough, but pretty clear that he’d prefer we not come back. I understood his point. We’d left a mess for him to clean up and hard evidence he’d have to carefully explain away.





CHAPTER 21





We were closer. We were now only a day behind. Still, it was aggravating to not yet have found the man, and terrifying to be going back where I was considered history’s greatest monster. I lay awake in our stateroom craving human touch.

Earth ships are not as nice as many others, though adequate, and better than they used to be. We couldn’t do any research, though. All activity is monitored and we’d get flagged instantly. We stayed locked out of the ship’s node and committed nothing to paper either. We passlocked our comms and phones and secured them in luggage when not on our persons.

Earth changed security protocols after my attack, like closing the barn after the horse is loose. They’ve been tightening it ever since, and now it’s flat out ridiculous.

All ships stop at the jump point stations, and everyone is sequestered and cleared through Customs there. They do nothing outsystem or in orbit. Fair enough. It limits the possibility of them letting someone slip through.

However, it’s slow. It’s intrusive. They scanned everything with sniffers, and I was very glad we’d used new luggage against any propellant or explosive residue. Those are actually quite common if you travel outsystem; the luggage is jumbled together and you get residue from other pieces. They’re supposed to be able to tell the density, but that assumes they hire people with more than a room temperature IQ. The luggage went down a chute, through a door and off to be examined.

That’s a problem. It’s compounded by the fact that all the luggage gets held up while they do this dance, rather than forwarding other pieces. I supposed they’re afraid it will strain their intellects. That, or no one wants to risk signing off in case it comes back on them.

We waited a long boring time for that, during which we made couplish small talk to look “normal,” then had to go through and make declarations.

I stepped up to this typically soft Earth type in a rumpled blue uniform who asked, “Has your luggage been out of your control?” without any kind of preamble or eye contact.

“Yes,” I said.

He looked up in shock, and asked, “When?”

I said, “From the time it offloaded from the ship and into your scanners until now.”

He got this disgusted expression and said, “That’s not out of your control.”

“I didn’t see where it went, so I can’t tell what happened.”

“Are you trying to be smart with me?” he asked, and I choked back a response of how would you know if I were?