A Murder of Clones: A Retrieval Artist Universe Novel (40 page)

These areas were designed for massive prisoner releases. Most prisons tried to coordinate release times, so very few ships had to dock on the ring.

Single pick-ups were unusual, except for the S
3
clients he usually dealt with. At first, when he’d come to large areas like this to pick up one client, he got even more nervous.

Now, he relaxed slightly. There was always a lesser chance of an incident when he was on his own than when others arrived to pick up their released prisoners.

He sent a reminder to his team:
In, out, gone
.

He got an affirmative from both of them.

The doors closed behind them, and for a moment, they stood in a square part of the corridor, doors on all sides.

He took a deep breath to shed the rest of the nerves, then concentrated. He would retrieve the client, and then he would leave.

If the client didn’t want to get out fast, the client would be picked up and carried out of this place.

If the client fought too hard, then one of the security team would knock the idiot out and drag him out of here, put him in the minimum security cell on the
Alus 15
, and take him to his brand-new home.

And leave him there.

Fujita had an obligation to S
3
, but the obligation only went so far. If S
3
wanted more out of him, they would have to pay him more.

The door on Fujita’s left swung open. As it did, identification documentation downloaded into Fujita’s chips. It was the documentation Fujita would need to get this Trey character out of the Alliance. The documentation certified that 99373 had been held as an illegal clone when it was discovered that he was a non-Alliance clone.

He did not have Alliance identification. The prison hoped the Alliance would accept their word that 99373 was both legal and free to go.

The documentation was the bare minimum needed by the Alliance. Fujita was glad he’d had the presence of mind to bring Trey’s entire file, including the whole court case (such as it was). That way, if he got stopped, he could prove he wasn’t transporting an illegal clone.

He stepped inside the room. The security team flanked him. The android guards remained at the door.

A too-thin man stood near the back wall. He’d clearly been sitting on the bench seat not a moment before. He was taller than Fujita expected and he looked frailer.

He was also unbelievably pale, from his hair to his skin to his eyes.

Those eyes met Fujita’s. They were alive with intelligence. Fujita hadn’t expected that. Nor had he expected the force of this man’s personality.

A voice overhead identified him:

Prisoner 99373, you are being released into the custody of Rafik Fujita, a representative of the law firm Schnable, Shishani, & Salehi. He will transport you out of the Alliance. Until you leave Alliance space, you are legal only if you remain in his custody. Do you understand?

The clone swallowed hard. He actually appeared nervous, but Fujita wasn’t sure if that was an act. “I do understand,” the clone said.

Rafik Fujita, do you accept responsibility for 99373?

“Yes,” Fujita said.

You will take him out of the Alliance and will not stop for anything except emergencies listed in the Clone Prisoner Release section of the Earth Alliance Criminal Code regarding Prison Rules and Regulations, identification number…

Fujita tuned out the legalese, allowing his own automated system to answer questions. The system was designed to notify him if the wording was different than the wording required by law.

As the voice droned on, he and the clone stared at each other. The clone was still wearing his prison garb. He had no satchel, and no personal items.

He looked older than Fujita expected.

“Do you have everything?” Fujita asked when the droning was done.

The clone actually bit his lower lip. Was the nervousness an act? Fujita couldn’t tell.

“Yes,” the clone said.

“No personal items at all?” Fujita asked.

The clone glanced around the room. “I only had ninety minutes notice, and that wasn’t time to go back to my cell.”

“My team can accompany you there if need be.” Fujita had to make the offer because it was required by law, but he was hoping that the clone would say no.

The clone gave him a slight smile. “I…everything…there’s nothing of value. Not even to me.”

Fujita felt a tug of compassion, then dismissed it. For every venal criminal he’d met, he’d met a dozen others who were good at empathy, good at compassion, and good at making others like them. Apparently, this clone could do it as well.

“Can we leave before they change their mind?” the clone asked.

Fujita almost smiled, but stopped himself just in time. Great question, also designed to evoke an emotional response. He’d had his emotional response. He wouldn’t allow himself to feel any more.

“Before we do,” Fujita said, “you heard the rules. I’m in charge. If you have a problem with that, we will imprison you until we get you out of the Alliance.”

“Where am I going?” the clone asked.

“To my ship,” Fujita said.

The clone nodded, as if he believed he did not deserve more information. Then he swept his hands down his torso. “I have to wear this?”

“Yep,” Fujita said. “We’ll find you something shipboard. Unless you want to stay…?”

“No.” The clone’s voice trembled. “I’m ready to leave. And I’ll follow your rules.”

“Good,” Fujita said. “Because the truth is, you really don’t have much of a choice.”

FORTY-FOUR

THE WIND REMAINED steady. Gomez couldn’t feel it, but it annoyed her all the same. Mostly, the continual
shurr-shurr
of sand across her suit annoyed her. As did the warnings the suit gave about the tiny particulates burrowing into its systems.

Nothing seemed to last long on this part of Ohksmyte, unless it was designed for that purpose.

Not that she had a lot of time to think about this. Simiaar kept her and Nuuyoma busy. It almost felt like they were disassembling the little ship.

First, Simiaar lifted the enclosure. It rose with an audible squeal. She slipped inside the old cockpit, but wouldn’t let Gomez or Nuuyoma join her. Instead, she pulled the enclosure back down, then removed the gloves she had been wearing and put on a new pair that she had kept inside her suit. With those gloves, she disassembled the remains of that cockpit, pouring the interiors of the remaining equipment into little bags that she then secreted inside her suit.

When she was done, she bagged the remaining equipment pieces and handed them, one by one, to Gomez.

Get them to
Security One
,
Simiaar sent.
Then come back for more.

Gomez did. She kept her head down against the constant wind and sand, and made her way back along the path she and the other two had created. Not that she could see the path any longer. The blowing sand had smoothed out their steps, hiding the little things they had uncovered, and making the landscape look as barren as it had before.

Security One
was now coated with the sand, even though Verstraete had kept the shields up.

Verstraete lowered the shields when Gomez contacted her. The actual ship hull seemed cleaner and clearer than it had a moment before. But as Gomez opened the airlock, particulates started to cling to the metal surface.

You nearly done?
Verstraete sent as Gomez deposited items in the airlock.

Looks like we’re just getting started
, Gomez sent.

The ship doesn’t like it here,
Verstraete sent.
It’s not the sand. It’s the low-level radiation. It’s worried that we don’t have the right gear for this kind of work
.

They didn’t really, but this was the only gear they had.

I’ll let Simiaar know we need to hurry
, Gomez sent, even though she knew Verstraete could have let Simiaar know that herself. Verstraete did everything she could to avoid Simiaar. It wasn’t that they disliked each other; it was almost as if they couldn’t communicate well because they were too similar.

As Gomez returned, she passed Nuuyoma, who was carrying even more bagged items.

We should just bag the whole damn ship
, he sent her on a private link.

Gomez smiled but didn’t respond. Simiaar had warned her this would happen, and Gomez hadn’t believed her. Of course, Simiaar hadn’t told her these marked ships even existed.

As Gomez staggered back to the skeletal remains of that ship, she checked the wind speed. It hadn’t increased, but moving in this environment was tiring her. In space, she didn’t have to push against wind as she moved. The gravity was Earth normal here, but the wind made it seem heavier.

We almost done?
she sent Simiaar as she returned.

There were two people on this ship when it left Epriccom
, Simiaar sent her, ignoring the question.
Only one of them left this little ship alive
.

What?
Gomez stopped outside the enclosure. Simiaar was hunched in front of a floor panel. Gomez couldn’t see what she was doing. Simiaar did not look up.

You heard me.
One of the people who escaped Epriccom died in this ship.

Before it landed?
Gomez asked.

Dunno
, Simiaar sent.
We’ll find out when I get this stuff back to the
Stanley.

She poked her head up and peered through the enclosure. She was frowning, but she wasn’t looking at Gomez. Simiaar was looking—or trying to look—for Nuuyoma.

“Listen,” Simiaar said out loud, through the message system in their suits. “This is just for you. Double-check me. Are we on a secure channel?”

Gomez double-checked. They were. “I’ll encode,” she said.

“Good.” Simiaar pulled off her gloves and bagged them. Then she grabbed yet one more pair of gloves from those magic pockets in her suit. “We got an issue here.”

“An issue? In a ship this old?”

“Yeah,” Simiaar said. “Remember I told you that the Alliance seeded these things throughout the various sectors so that they could track criminals?”

“Of course,” Gomez said, a bit annoyed that Simiaar had to check. It had only been an hour or so since she had dropped that piece of information.

“This thing wasn’t seeded,” Simiaar said.

“What does that mean?” Gomez asked.

“It means this thing only had one owner.”

Gomez blinked, trying to figure out what Simiaar meant. “The Alliance would be the first owner, right?”

“Yeah,” Simiaar said.

“You’re telling me that the Alliance gave this ship to whoever flew this thing?”

“I’m not sure how the person who flew it got it, but this thing was never abandoned, never stolen, never given to anyone else. The first person who flew it was the last person who flew it.”

“How can you be sure?” Gomez asked.

“I can’t exactly. Not without a bunch of testing. But that’s what it looks like.”

“In the middle of a sandstorm after sitting for fifteen years,” Gomez said.

“Some of this stuff was designed to download immediately with the right access code,” Simiaar said. “The idea was that operatives would have maybe five minutes to get the information and leave the site.”

Gomez swore. At that moment, Nuuyoma joined them.

What new torture do you have for us now?
he sent on the joint links.

A few more items to carry back,
Simiaar sent.
Judita, I’m going to need you to help me get back
.

What does that mean?
Gomez sent.

I’m going to wrap myself in a protective covering,
Simiaar sent.
I won’t be able to see anything. You’re going to guide me back
.

Gomez grinned.
Such trust.

Screw you
, Simiaar sent.
You ready to carry a few things, Elián?

I guess,
he sent, then gave Gomez a confused look that basically asked,
weren’t we carrying things already?

Gomez tilted her head just a little and shrugged.

I’m lifting this enclosure thing and handing you bags fast. You take them even faster. Then I’m closing the lid. Got that?
Apparently, Simiaar was still talking to Nuuyoma.

How many bags?
He asked.

Five.
Think you can handle that?

I had ten the last time,
he sent.

Okay, then
. She didn’t seem to see the irony.
Here goes.