A Murder of Clones: A Retrieval Artist Universe Novel (41 page)

He bent over the enclosure, gloved hands extended. Simiaar opened the enclosure just a little, shoving bags at him. Gomez helped him take them, holding three of them while he adjusted the first two.

Simiaar had already shut the enclosure. She had removed some kind of sheeting. Gomez recognized it. Simiaar usually used it at a crime scene to wrap a body or a crucial piece of evidence. Apparently, she considered herself that crucial piece of evidence.

I don’t have to come back, right?
Nuuyoma sent both of them, but he was looking at Gomez.

Put the items in the airlock, then wait outside it,
Gomez sent.
I might need your help
.

Okay,
he sent. He adjusted the last of the bags, and then walked slowly toward
Security One
.

“How are we doing?” Simiaar asked on that secure channel.

“I haven’t had this much fun in years,” Gomez said.

“Cute.”

Simiaar had wrapped the sheet around her suit. The sheet adhered, coating everything. It took some special process to remove the thing in the lab. Simiaar would probably have to wear her environmental suit all the way to the
Stanley
.

“I’m ready,” Simiaar said. “You’re going to have to lift the damn enclosure.”

“Okay,” Gomez said. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. The enclosure was latched in five different places, and the latches had to release in a particular order.

Gomez thought it odd that Simiaar had known that order.

That order also explained why more materials hadn’t been taken from that cockpit. No one wanted to stay on this part of the moon long enough to break into the ship, not when there were so many other ship pieces around to steal from.

The enclosure opened.

Gomez put her gloved hands under Simiaar’s arms and pulled her out, then staggered backwards. Simiaar seemed to weigh five times what she normally did.

Gomez couldn’t quite process how much material Simiaar had taken from the ship. Or maybe it was the weight of the equipment Simiaar had brought with her.

“You ready?” Gomez asked.

“Go slow,” Simiaar said. “I got two different maps and real-time imagery, but I still feel blind.”

Gomez could understand. She held Simiaar in place, then paused, and lowered the enclosure. It clicked closed.

It just felt wrong to leave it open, after its secrets had been intact for so long. Gomez didn’t defend her actions. She wrapped her arm around Simiaar’s waist. Simiaar put her arm around Gomez’s.

Together they walked slowly back to
Security One
.

Nuuyoma stood outside it. His environmental suit was black with the sand. He looked like part of the landscape.

Security One
had become a mountain of sand, even though every time the shields lowered, the sand sloughed off.

Lower shields
, Gomez sent Verstraete.
We’re coming in
.

Not a moment too soon,
Verstraete sent.
This stuff is insidious. I’m checking it for nanoparticles. It wouldn’t surprise me if we pick up hitchhikers.

If we do, we do,
Gomez sent.
We’re not getting everything off Doctor Simiaar’s suit until we get to the
Stanley
.

Oh, yes, we are,
Simiaar sent.
You’ll help me into the cargo hold of this thing. We can decontaminate me there.

Won’t it ruin the evidence?
Gomez asked.

You think I didn’t plan for this?
I read the specs on Ohksmyte. Did you?

Apparently not in the same kind of detail. The shields went down, and sand poured from the air to the ground. The airlock opened. Nuuyoma helped Gomez shove Simiaar into the airlock.

Gomez climbed in next, followed by Nuuyoma. The airlock’s floor was clean, even though they’d been dumping bags into it. Verstraete had done her job.

More sand fell off them. Cleansing air brushed off their suits. Only Simiaar’s remained covered.

Gomez blinked hard, realizing just how exhausted she was. She didn’t like living in atmosphere. She’d been in space too long. And she could do without wind.

The interior door opened. Verstraete stood in the corridor, also wearing an environmental suit. Cleaning bots made their way into the airlock, and Gomez felt cramped.

“So?” Verstraete asked. “Was it worthwhile?”

“We won’t know for some time,” Gomez lied.

Simiaar looked blindly at her. “Oh, hell,” Simiaar said. “Don’t listen to her. Adventure is always fun.”

I never took her to be an optimist
, Nuuyoma sent Gomez on a secure link.

I never knew she could have fun
, Gomez sent back. Then they grinned at each other, and joined Verstraete in the corridor.

Then she helped Simiaar out of the airlock. Together, they made their way to the lower level and the decontamination chamber, where the real evidence collection would begin.

FORTY-FIVE

SO FAR, THE clone wasn’t trouble. Fujita put him in a heavily guarded wing, in an actual suite with its own sitting area, bedroom, and bathroom. Everything in the guarded wing suites was bolted down. Anything that could possibly be a weapon was either made of a bendable material or hadn’t been put in the room at all.

The clone’s suite was heavily monitored. He stood for the longest time in the center of the suite, as if he hadn’t known what to do. Then he looked at the clothes that the crew had placed on the bed, grabbed some items, and headed to the bathroom. He opted for a real water shower, and stayed in it until the water shut off after the required eight minutes.

They had two days of travel before leaving Alliance space, then five days of travel after that. Fujita didn’t mind. The hardest part was over, based on his experience.

He also knew from experience not to let the long-time incarcerated alone for long. So he invited the clone to a captain’s dinner.

It sounded grand and elegant, but really it was just a meal with Fujita and his senior staff. His most
qualified
staff for any kind of physical emergency. Even here, in the presence of five strong security personnel, the clone wouldn’t be allowed sharp utensils.

They didn’t use the main dining area, but a small room off one of the VIP suites. Fujita didn’t want former prisoners anywhere near the actual living quarters, although this level had been done up to look like living quarters. The clone was blocked from all network access and the prison had removed all of his links, so he had no way to check any information that Fujita had told him.

Angela Tamberlane, the head of Fujita’s security detail, brought the clone to the dining area. Fujita’s rules dictated that whoever was with the so-called client had two other crew members along. Tamberlane left those two crew members outside the door. The other four inside the room were the two who had gone to the prison with Fujita and the man Fujita called his ringer, a psychiatrist he always had on these transports in case the client became difficult.

Tamberlane let the clone—whom Fujita would have to force himself to call Trey—into the dining area first. The clone—Trey—came in, moving his head around as he took in everything. He walked slowly, hunched so that his torso was protected, his hands in loose fists.

Fujita recognized the posture: it was both defensive and protective, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment.

On occasions like this, Fujita always played the expansive host. “Welcome to the captain’s dining room,” he said. “I figured you needed to celebrate on your first night of freedom.”

Trey lifted his head and those eyes met Fujita’s with such force that Fujita almost felt like he needed to step backwards. But he held his ground.

Trey studied him for a moment, as if trying to see if Fujita was fooling him in some way. Then Trey said solemnly, “Thank you.”

“You’ll be sitting here.” Fujita indicated a chair on the far side of the table. Trey’s back would be to the wall, and he would be sitting between two members of the security team.

Most prisoners liked that enclosed feeling, not that Fujita really cared. He was more concerned that Trey couldn’t do something impulsive and then easily escape the room.

Trey looked at the seat, swallowed hard, and then nodded. He made his way around the table as if movement hurt him.

Fujita’s gaze met Tamberlane’s.
He all right?
he sent on a secure link.

I think he’s terrified and not willing to admit it,
she sent.
This is more free space than he’s seen in decades
.

Fujita swept an arm over the table, indicating the other empty seats. “Sit down, everyone. Let’s get started.”

There were no wine glasses on the table. In fact, there was no alcohol on the
Alus 15
at all. His staff didn’t need it, and early on, Fujita had learned that former prisoners had a great instinct for finding the mood-altering substances on board any ship. The best thing to do was to make sure there were no mood-altering substances at all.

At the moment, the only liquid on the table was water. There were two gigantic plates of cured meats from all over the Alliance, and another gigantic plate of sliced breads and crackers.

Nothing that would be served tonight would take a knife to make the portion size correct, and all of it could be eaten with spoons or weakly constructed forks.

Fujita wasn’t sure Trey even noticed. He ran his finger around the edge of the unbreakable plate, then touched the glass as Tamberlane filled it with water.

“Thank you,” Trey said. “Forgive me if I seem…odd. I’ve never eaten like this.”

“This kind of food?” one of the security staff asked.

They had all been instructed to talk to him like he was a friend, to try to relax him.

“At a table. Formal, you know. Not after someone served some slop and you sat down, but where people converse. I’ve seen vids, though.” Trey sounded both nervous and eager at the same time.

He’s good at vulnerable
, Tamberlane sent Fujita.

Yeah, I noticed that earlier
, Fujita sent back. He sat down. “Just ask. We’ll help you figure out what to do. Mostly, though, it’s common sense.”

Trey nodded. He waited until someone else started a plate of meat, then watched as each person selected their favorite slices. He took exactly the median number of slices that everyone else had taken so far.

Smart. He had a gift for observation.

Fujita would remember that.

“Is it okay if I ask questions?” Trey said to Fujita. “Or do I have to meet alone with you?”

“The team is briefed on everything,” Fujita said. “I have no secrets from them.”

And they were very practiced at pretending not to hear things—and at recalling it should it become important.

“I…don’t mean to be rude,” Trey said as he handed the dish of cured meats to Tamberlane. “I was only told everything this morning.”

Then he looked around the table, looked at the tray of breads going around, looked at the various condiments available to spread on the breads, and paused.

Everyone knew what he was thinking. To him, this level of food—which was just the first course—was a luxury. Fujita had planned this meal so that the courses came out slowly, giving Trey’s stomach time to adjust.

“I didn’t even know that…” Trey shook his head, as if censoring himself. “Sorry. Um, I was just wondering. Where’s Torkild Zhu? He’s the one who got me off, right? You guys aren’t lawyers, right?”

Fujita had expected this question sooner. “We work for the firm,” he said. “This is our job.”

“You’ve done it before?” Trey asked. “Taken people out of the Alliance?”

“We pick up newly released clients and take them to their destinations,” Fujita said.

Trey made a small sandwich out of his bread and ham, just like Tamberlane had done beside him.

“What is my destination?” Trey asked, clearly trying to make the question sound casual.

“You’re heading to a small city in the Irr Sector. It’s at the edge of the Frontier.” Fujita wasn’t sure how to make this place sound palatable to Trey. He had no idea who Trey really was, what he would like, what he wanted.

“I don’t have any money or job skills or—”

“We’re taking you to an organization that trains people for jobs in return for some work. You’ll do things like cook and clean, and they’ll provide you with a room, food, and training. The law firm has a fund for this sort of thing. Your stay is paid for the next six months, but you can extend that through work and good behavior.”

“Good behavior,” Trey repeated, and Fujita knew why. It sounded like a prison term. It
was
a prison term. “So I’m trapped there?”

“You can leave at any time,” Fujita said. “But you won’t have any money. You can’t get a refund if you refuse to stay for the entire six months.”