A Murder of Clones: A Retrieval Artist Universe Novel (35 page)

So Fujita tried to have the right attitude, the attitude that Zhu clearly didn’t have. Fujita told himself that it didn’t matter what the former prisoner had done or what he would do in the future. What mattered was that for this short window of time, the former prisoner was a man who needed transport and maybe a bit of coaching on life on the outside.

Fujita had coached dozens of people on how to make it after a lifetime in prison. He’d try to do the same—with compassion—for this Trey, no matter what the guy looked like, no matter who his DNA said he was.

None of that stopped Fujita from reading up on PierLuigi Frémont or preparing for the worst. He suspected that if Trey was going to be bad, he’d be bad in his own way. Fujita would be prepared for all of it.

S
3
paid him to anticipate, not to be surprised.

As much research as he had done on the way to EAP 77743, he better not be surprised.

The prison expected him in exactly twelve hours. He would arrive within eleven.

He’d learned the hard way that being on time was often too late. Some guards took advantage of that last hour to ensure that a prisoner wouldn’t get his release. Arriving early was the best thing.

Early and unannounced.

He prepared his identification, his court orders, and his arguments. He prepared the maximum security cell in the bowels of the Alus 15 in case this Trey turned out to be a raving lunatic. Fujita prepared the minimum security cell two levels above the max cell in case this Trey didn’t want to leave the Alliance.

Fujita prepared for every contingency, including the one he couldn’t foresee—whatever that was.

He knew something might go awry here.

That’s the one thing the file told him. The release had been too easy. That judge had cooperated on the record, clearly saying she would take a bribe. But she never received that bribe because Zhu was too cowardly to tell his companions at S
3
.

Although Zhu had said he didn’t want to seem like he was taking advantage of the “quid pro quo” the judge had offered.

Fujita always kept his own counsel with delusional lawyers. And Zhu seemed more delusional than most. He didn’t seem to understand that by getting this Trey released, he had already taken the quid pro quo. He just had to provide his pro quo or quid or whatever the proper terminology was.

If that judge ever got a job at S
3
, then Zhu would forever be on the hot seat.

The man seemed to have convinced himself otherwise.

Not that it was Fujita’s business.

Fujita had done his due diligence—except for the interview with Trey.

And that would happen shortly after Trey arrived on board.

It wasn’t fair to say that Fujita was looking forward to that moment. But he was anticipating it. Because, his experience had taught him, once he’d acquired the prisoner, his work was 95% complete.

FORTY

EPRICCOM LOOKED NOTHING like it had fifteen years before. Dozens of small bases orbited the moon, all of them affiliated with some Alliance corporation. The
Stanley
got through the beefed-up space traffic control regulations easily because it was an Earth Alliance ship, but Gomez could see how hard it would be for non-aligned ships to enter Epriccom’s space.

The Eaufasse appeared to be in charge of all of the contacts, even though there were fifteen other sentient species on Epriccom. Gomez hadn’t really studied the changes—she didn’t expect to be on Epriccom long—but she hoped Simiaar had.

They landed in an actual Alliance-approved port, with the standard regulations that all Alliance ports had. The port was small, but the small crew Gomez had brought with her had to go through everything from document check to decontamination to the hiring of a certified Eaufasse guide, none of which she’d had to go through fifteen years before.

This is creepy
, Simiaar sent Gomez privately.

We rarely see what we’ve wrought
, Gomez sent back, hoping the wry tone made it through her linked communication.

No kidding
, Simiaar sent back.

They were walking side by side through the port’s main arrival area. Nuuyoma and Verstraete walked behind them. Apaza had stayed on the
Stanley
, ostensibly to help facilitate any research that they needed from the surface, but primarily because he hadn’t finished searching the financials yet. The ship registrations had led to nothing, but the financials, he said, were “promising.”

The walls of the port depicted scenes that Gomez’s links told her came from Eaufasse history. Most of the scenes looked like battles, but she couldn’t tell, really.

The Eaufasse certainly seemed less alien than they had at that first encounter. Some of the Eaufasse now wore robes instead of tight material over their torsos. The robes hid a lot of their differences, from the length of the arms and legs to the sexless characteristics of that torso.

Only their liquid eyes and small size made them seem obviously different.

The guide walked quickly, taking the team to a building attached to the port. On the maps of the area drawn up in Standard, the building was called The Alliance Center for Harmonious Relations. Gomez had no idea what the actual name of the place really was.

The corridors leading from the port to the Alliance Center were wider than the average Eaufasse corridor—at least the ones that Gomez remembered. She remembered weird window-shaped things, inexplicable doors, ceilings just a bit too low, and the buzz of a language she did not understand.

Instead, this place looked like it could be dropped anywhere in the Alliance, with corridors wide enough to accommodate the Rev. She understood most of the conversations, but then most everyone in the port was human, Peyti, Gyonnese, or LaBotian. She hardly saw any Eaufasse either, although she realized halfway to the Alliance Center that she simply had taken many of the ones she had seen for human, because of the robes.

Other natives from Epriccom hugged the walls or didn’t seem to appear at all. They often watched from restricted areas.

She usually prepared before she arrived at a new place, but she hadn’t considered Epriccom new, considering what she had gone through here.

Now she realized that her entire attitude toward this trip here was a mistake.

She sent to Simiaar on their private link,
You want to abort this one?

Getting cold feet?
Simiaar sent back.

I wasn’t prepared for all the changes
, Gomez sent.

No worries,
Simiaar sent back.
I was. I’ll go head-to-head with them. You handle the other thing
.

She hadn’t referred to the trip that Gomez really wanted to take because both of them had learned that in places like this, sometimes the most secure link could get hacked.

Gomez nodded and followed their guide up a flight of human-sized stairs and into a brownish-beige corridor. Some of those rectangular window coverings decorated the walls here, and the net effect was just a bit more like that outpost where she had first interviewed Thirds.

A nearly invisible door slid open, filling the corridor with the scent of dried mud and chocolate.

An Eaufasse wearing something that looked like the uniforms of old opened its long arms wide.

“Mar-shal Gomez,” it said with what she took to be joy. “Wel-come. It be long years.”

Gomez compared the old memories she had downloaded into her current data stream with a recognition program that should have worked for Eaufasse.

This was the Eaufasse who had led them to Thirds. Gomez couldn’t pronounce the Eaufasse’s name. She wasn’t sure she had even known it back then.

“I learn Stan-dard bad,” the Eaufasse said proudly.

“I think you learned it well,” Gomez said. “Would I offend you if I give you a standard Earth handshake?”

“Hon-or-ed would be I,” the Eaufasse said, and extended its hand.

Gomez couldn’t remember touching an Eaufasse before. As her hand hit its skin, she was pleased to discover that the texture was as soft as fine silk. Still, Gomez was careful to grip lightly, shake once gently, and disengage.

“I am honored that you came to see us,” Gomez said.

“Un-fin-i-sh-ed bus-i-ness we,” the Eaufasse said, then peered at the other three members of her team. “New?”

It took Gomez a minute. “Two of them have not been to Epriccom before. But Doctor Simiaar was with me the last time.”

“I don’t think I ever left the ship,” Simiaar said, then bowed slightly. “Meeting you is my pleasure.”

“My yes,” the Eaufasse said, bowing back.

Simiaar looked at Gomez, as if she didn’t really understand.
It’s okay
, Gomez sent.

“Talk us a-lone?” the Eaufasse asked Gomez.

“I’d like Dr. Simiaar to come with us, if possible,” Gomez said. “She’s very familiar with your culture. And she’s the one who encouraged me to come here again.”

The Eaufasse’s gaze shifted to Simiaar. The Eaufasse’s eyes seemed even more liquid for a moment. Then it nodded.

“Yes,” it said. “No Pey-ti?”

Gomez smiled as she understood. “That’s right. I didn’t bring my own translator. I can send for one if you think I need one.”

“No, I have trans-late,” the Eaufasse said. “Right all?”

“Yes, that will work.” Gomez turned to the other two. “You two can probably get something to eat or just look around. We’ll send for you when we need you.”

As she said that, she sent,
It’ll take maybe an hour, so stay close
.

Nuuyoma nodded. Verstraete looked like she didn’t need to be told twice. She was already looking down the corridor.

The Eaufasse ushered Gomez and Simiaar into a room that was as bland as the corridor. Gomez’s links didn’t detect any unusual recording devices. She assumed everything in this Alliance-built building would be up to Alliance standards, so she should be able to find something out of the ordinary.

She wasn’t sure if that was a safe assumption, but she wanted it to be.

Another Eaufasse stood near the back of the room, wearing a light blue robe, its hands clasped together. It was younger. Gomez only knew that because she had just compared the fifteen-year-old images of the first Eaufasse to that Eaufasse now, and realized that its skin had become grayer and more elastic.

This Eaufasse had skin that was taut, at least around its face.

“Marshal,” it said with no decipherable accent at all. Standard spoken as—well, as standard as possible. “I am Oaupheau. I will act as your translator, with your permission.”

“Thank you,” Gomez said. “You have my permission.”

She was recording everything. She hoped Simiaar was doing the same.

There were four chairs in the room, two normal human chairs with a flat seat and a flat back, and two Eaufasse chairs that looked like mushrooms growing out of the floor.

“I have been chosen for my discretion,” Oaupheau said. “Mir Munshi trusts me with his life and now yours. In return, I give you my oath that I will not reveal anything said here on pain of death.”

In the early years of her command, Gomez would have politely stated that such extremes weren’t necessary. Now, she had learned to respect cultures that insisted on such things.

So she acknowledged Oaupheau’s statement with a polite response, while pondering what else it (he?) had told her. He had used an old Earth title for someone who ran a foreign office. She had had to learn most Earth forms of address, old and new, because different cultures translated the names of their leaders using words they found in Earth histories, for accuracy.

She wasn’t sure how accurate this title was, but considering the precision with which Oaupheau spoke Standard, she had a hunch the title was as accurate as the Eaufasse could make it. That title made sense. She wondered how much work it had taken to find the proper title to translate into Standard.

Oaupheau had also given the Mir Munshi’s gender as male. Gomez had never been able to tell gender with the Eaufasse before, so she appreciated that.

Mir Munshi spoke Fasse to Oaupheau, while keeping his gaze on Gomez.

“With your permission, Mir Munshi would like to begin the important conversation now,” Oaupheau said.

“That would be good,” Gomez said.

Simiaar remained seated quietly beside her, watching everything and listening as Mir Munshi spoke.

“Mir Munshi says since you last met, he has learned much about your people. Before you met, he thought that your people looked very similar. It was because of the enclave, as you recall.”

“I remember,” Gomez said. “We had figured as much.”

Oaupheau spoke slowly as it translated. The only thing she wished was that she could somehow monitor what it said so that she knew if it were a good translator or not.

“Not long ago, Mir Munshi saw the images of the destroyers of your moon.”