Chapter 42

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Claire had worked intently throughout the very long night, but she decided at a certain point that she had to lie down and close her eyes for a moment. She was almost certain that it was past morning, but the unrelieved darkness baffled time. That was half of the point, Claire was sure. The darkness cut off the prisoner from the rest of the world, even the knowledge of what the rest of the world might be doing.

She’d eventually managed to get the access plate off the wall, which was tricky to do without destroying or disconnecting the sensitive electronics behind it. After feeling around in the palm-sized hole, she said a devout prayer of thanks that this lock seemed very similar to the ones at Faal’s estate.

Next it was a matter of trying various combinations of magnets to fool the lock into opening. Unfortunately the combinations weren’t of an on/off variety. The access plate would respond to the pressure of a Merith hand and a short sequence of digit flexations. Claire used four magnet strips to mimic four fingers, and got out four pins to mimic a Merith’s claws.

Each magnet needed to be held a slight distance from the plate. She didn’t have to exactly mimic the Merith’s fingers, but rather the electrical resonance of the hand. The magnets were a lot more reactive than a hand would be, so she had to find the right distance.

That was the most time consuming part, and Claire nearly gave up. It was then that she lay down and closed her eyes. She rested, but when she felt on the edge of sleep she made herself get back at it. If she fell asleep in this dark she might sleep for hours.

She began again with the magnets and was legitimately shocked when the plate hummed its readiness.

She wanted to squeal with triumph, but she froze instead. If she moved any of the magnets, the plate would turn off. She might be able to mimic this exact position again, but she might not. Now came the tricky part. She held the magnets fanned out with one hand. She couldn’t hold all four pins easily, so instead she picked up one pin and tapped it over each magnet in turn.

The door didn’t open. That was okay. She tapped it backward, mentally numbering in her head: 4, 3, 2, 1. On her hand it would be: pinky, ring, pointer, thumb.

Nope.

Claire hoped this was only a four digit combination. The ones at Faal’s estate were only four motions. She assumed it was because the real trick was pretending to be a Merith, not knowing a code.

Claire blinked her eyes and forced herself to think methodically. It would not take very long to try each combination, and if it proved to be more than four she could reevaluate.

She found the correct combination at 4, 1, 3, 2. The access plate hummed again, at last, and the door slid open.

The light momentarily blinded Claire, but she surged to her feet. She only had moments before one of Faal’s guys realized her door was open. She’d put several picks in her pocket for just this moment, and she quickly got them out and put them between her fingers like she’d once been taught to do with her keys.

Her eyes were watering but she could see. She went back the way they’d brought her onto the ship, and sure enough, one of Faal’s soldiers popped into the passageway just in front of her.

Claire punched him, but instead of aiming instinctively for his eye (as she remembered Kitteh’s advice), she aimed for his lower throat. Whether because he was slightly surprised or because he had instruction not to hurt her, Claire actually landed the punch.

The picks were pushed back and two pierced her hand – searing pain! – but one punched through his skin with a satisfying pressure.

The Merith reeled back with a yelp, probably more surprised than anything. He clutched awkwardly at the tiny piece of metal coming out of his neck and Claire dashed past him.

The exterior door of the ship was not locked and it opened at her command.

There was an airtight passage here that led only to an elevator. She ran to the elevator and tapped for the lower level, only now noticing the remaining picks in her bloody hand. She put them in her pocket and wiped her stinging hand on her shirt.

She must have been right about it being morning. She’d expected a lot more resistance, but Faal must have taken most of his soldiers with him to the negotiation.

The elevator stopped at the next level – the only other level it serviced – and Claire only did a quick check before dashing out. Instead of opening onto the hustle and bustle of the main shipping bay, Faal had paid for a private berth with its own business lounge. There were distant sounds from the vast shipping cavern, but this small offshoot was practically cozy. There was recessed lighting, comfortable chairs in intimate groupings, and even a stocked cabinet full of expensive alcoholic drinks.

Claire didn’t care about any of that. She had to put space behind her. She briefly pondered trying to wedge the elevator open with one of the chairs, but they all looked expensively heavy.

Instead, she headed straight towards the tunnel that led toward the main shipping cavern. If she could get there, she might have a chance.

Unfortunately, Claire heard and felt a ground-car approaching before she’d gone more than a few steps.

She backtracked and threw herself behind a large Merith reclining couch. It wasn’t quite tall enough for her to get all the way underneath it, but she was relatively hidden.

The ground-car stopped just shy of the ‘lounge,’ and Claire heard four of Faal’s soldiers get out. She didn’t dare look, but she could tell Faal wasn’t with them because they spoke freely to each other. Apparently Faal had taken quite a few extra guards today, hence the need for separate transportation.

They headed past her and into the open elevator.

Claire had to assume that Faal was only a few minutes behind them, at the most. She could never get down that long, bare tunnel to the main cavern now. She would be a plain target. The guards got on the elevator.

Claire had an idea. This was a special berth for wealthy businessman to do business-y things without having to leave the port, right? And what was a conference room without telephones of some sort? In this case, it would probably be a complimentary contact board or panel... there it was!

The large liquor cabinet was made of some dark heavy wood, but one of the panels was slightly different. It was probably faux wood and now she could see the contact points. As soon as the elevator door closed, Claire jumped up and ran to the cabinet.

It responded to her touch and Claire asked for the Spo embassy. She danced back and forth on her toes, wondering how many minutes or seconds she had before Faal arrived.

A Spo appeared on the screen. “Thank you for contacting the Spo embassy. If you wish to inquire – ”

“I need to talk to Basher! Right away – it’s about human security.”

“The Spo are no longer affiliated with the Rik nation, if you require assistance – ”

“I’m not a Rik, you blithering – I need to talk to Basher Kapur. It’s about Sam and Nat and Akemi. They’re in danger.”

The Spo flushed a disgusted color, but the screen went blank and then Basher was there. He looked sweaty and his black hair was messy.

“Claire? What – where are you? Nat is telling me that the Rik were here...Did you use my token? Did you – ”

“Shut up. I only have a second.” She gave him the location of Faal’s ship. “Sage will bring Akemi here, got it? Faal will try to double-cross him, but if you have enough time – ”

Claire felt Faal’s ground-car only when it pulled up into view.

***

Basher was in the medical quarters, having finally gained entrance to the embassy. Sam was splinting Nat’s sprained thumb and trying to piece together what had happened to her.

She and Sam crowded around him as he took Claire’s call.

But now Claire turned away from the screen, and they didn’t have a wide enough angle to see what she was looking at.

“Claire!” Nat spoke up now. “Can you tell us – ”

But Claire was clearly not listening. She’d taken a few steps away and turned to her left. In profile they saw her raise her hands and start to speak, and then they saw a spurt of blood. Her leg collapsed under her and she fell to the ground.

Nat gasped quietly. They clearly heard Claire’s painful cry.

Then one of Faal’s guards came to the screen and shut it off without looking at them.

Basher was gripping the tablet so hard his knuckles were white. He was furious with Claire for using him to help the Spo, but he’d be lying if he said his major feeling was anger now.

He forced himself to think clearly. Faal may have shot Claire, but he wouldn’t kill her yet. He didn’t want her dead if he actually planned to trade her for Akemi.

“What the heck is going on?” said Senator Fontley. “I hope you mean to explain this.”

Basher had almost forgotten the Senator was there. He’d been following them around, full of self-congratulation and inappropriate advice. He’d only taken in the foggiest outline of Nat’s explanation, and he kept repeating, “See? I told you all along the computer wasn’t to be trusted! The Rik either. Vicious and deceitful. Good riddance.”

They’d largely ignored him, hoping he would take himself off and tell the Spo of his victory, but he’d stuck with them.

“It’s – we have to get to that ship,” Basher said. “Both Claire and Akemi will be there, but probably not much longer.”

Sam shook his head. “If he’s taking stolen property, let’s just alert Seltan authority not to release his ship.”

Basher struck the door in frustration. “They wouldn’t do it. Not for stolen property. Maybe not even for kidnapping. Particularly not if we can’t prove he participated in the theft. And we all saw him enter and leave here without either Claire or Akemi! =He’s… Faal.”

Nat nodded. “Let’s go.”

What else was there to say? At least the space port was a short drive from the embassy.

Basher sent his partner a message, asking for back up, and started for the door. “Senator, this could be a dangerous situation. I think it would be best if you remain here.”

“Nonsense! If Faal is indeed involved, he and I have developed something of a rapport...”

Sam helped Nat limp towards the door. She’d also twisted her ankle during the brief fight, though she insisted it wasn’t bad.

Basher looked on with impatience, which surprisingly the Senator noticed.

“You go ahead,” Senator Fontley said to him. “You can get there faster with your partner, and Sam and Nat and I will follow in a separate vehicle.”

For once, Basher was grateful to him for his suggestion. He didn’t particularly want Nat at this encounter anyway, as she was both injured and too emotionally involved to think clearly, so he was happy for her to go more slowly with Senator Fontley. With any luck, the Senator would get lost on the way and they wouldn’t get there until the confrontation was over.

Basher agreed and was out the door before Sam or Nat could protest.

***

Senator Fontley had been blessing the gods of fortune for the past hour, and he smiled paternally as he shepherded Sam and Nat out of the medical quarters.

He had just cleared the largest hurdle of his life and come off the victor. The director had blatantly exposed him and they had dismissed it. Dismissed it! His acting had been perfect, absolutely perfect.

Then, to top it off, the horrible computer had disappeared – stolen by a group of Rik! At one stroke they had removed one of the last threats to his imposture, and reinforced their image as deceitful, unworthy allies.

Fontley’s blood sang through his ears and his heart was pounding fast. There remained one smaller hurdle. Sam and Basher had heard the accusation of the Rik director. Could he leave those loose threads unsnipped? No. It would be madness. He felt in the tingling of his skin that this was his moment. His power was high, his luck was firm. He’d noted Basher’s impatience and with great presence of mind offered to accompany Sam and Nat. Basher’s ready agreement had confirmed his feeling. This was the moment to act and remove his final barriers.

This feeling must be the lauded intuition that humanity boasted of, Senator Fontley thought complacently. It was the final confirmation that he was, and ever would be, human.

Sam and Nat preceded him toward the front exit. This was the perfect moment to be rid of them both. He would be alone with them and could blame their death on the rogue group of Rik who had just invaded the embassy. It would be a most plausible story. They had come upon the thieves, and Nat, overcome with emotion for her sister, acted rashly. Sam tried to rescue her but sadly they were both killed in the conflict. Senator Fontley was the only one who escaped.

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