Steven Harper - Trickster

"The big deal is that I received no authorization from the home corp to let anyone examine our equipment," Markovi said sharply. "There are a lot of spies in this business, and-"

"Yeah, yeah. You want me to fix this thing or do you want fertilizer spraying every which way at noon on Tuesdays?"

"I'll have to call the home corp first."

"Sure, fine. What do I care? I'm paid by the hour."

Markovi turned and walked into his office. Gretchen Beyer picked up the toolbox of computer equipment and followed. She was surprised at how calm she felt. By all rights her heart should be hammering. There was no doubt in her mind that if Markovi learned who she was, her broken body would turn up in a ditch somewhere. Ben had uncovered a fair amount of information on chocolate companies, and it had turned out that these particular corps were more paranoid and secretive than many fascist police agencies. L.L. Venus had no public information officer, no press agents, and, since it was still a proprietary company, no stock market presence. According to an unauthorized biography of the Venus family and of the Wexford family, both corporations had surveillance and espionage departments dedicated to guarding their own recipes and stealing secrets from their rivals. And their security people had reputations for absolute ruthlessness. By all rights, Gretchen should have been nervous as hell-and she wasn't.

Of course, ever since the Despair, Gretchen hadn't been much in control of her emotional state. One minute she was so depressed she didn't care if the universe ended, the next she was so angry everything seemed tinged with red. Gretchen had been a reasonably skilled and powerful Silent, gifted in the Dream and easily achieving the rank of Sister among the Children of Irfan. Now, however, she was nothing. Sure, she still held her rank, but she couldn't do anything with it. The Dream was gone for her. She couldn't reach it, couldn't even feel it. Like every other Silent in her position, she hoped with fevered desperation that this was only temporary, that one morning she'd wake up and sense the familiar Dream around her again.

She hadn't cried at Mother Ara's funeral. In her more despondent moments, Gretchen felt that Ara had it pretty good, had taken the easy way out during the Despair. Jump off a balcony, all the pain stops. Gretchen couldn't blame her for doing it, not when she knew exactly how Ara felt. But Ara had left an unholy mess in her wake, including the impact on Ben. Gretchen liked Ben, had even had a crush on him once, though now she sometimes found herself angry at him for gaining what she had lost. And then there was Kendi. He had once been her equal. Now he was her superior, both in rank and in the fact the he still had the Dream. She respected him, though she'd never say so except under extreme torture, but she was mighty pissed at him, too. That was the problem. Everything was mixed up, and every time Gretchen thought she'd figured out which direction was up, it turned out to be ninety degrees from reality.

Better, then, to concentrate on the job at hand. Slavers and slave owners were a concrete problem Gretchen could handle. Besides, Gretchen had always felt that the best thing to do for a bad mood was to spread it around.

Markovi strode to the office wall that held his main viewscreen. He was reaching out to tap it and call the home corp when the latches on Gretchen's toolbox gave way. Computer tools and parts spilled in a spectacular jumble across the carpet close to the wall.

"Oh hell," Gretchen grumbled. "Hey, can you give me a hand here? I asked for a new toolbox, but nooooo… "

Markovi gave a put-upon sigh and knelt to help her gather up the scattered materials. He didn't notice Gretchen palm a chip half the size of a fingernail and stick it to the wall just beneath the viewscreen.

Once the mess was cleaned up, Gretchen thanked Markovi and he tapped the viewscreen. "HQ," he said. "Extension one three six."

A moment later, a dark-haired man with a mole on his cheek appeared. Gretchen barely recognized Ben. Harenn, the resident makeup expert, had done a good job.

"Doug Markovi at Sunnytree," Markovi said. "I have a computer technician here who says she's supposed to fix a glitch in our sprinkler and irrigation system. But I didn't receive any authorization for it. Can you confirm?"

"I didn't get it."

Markovi folded his arms. "Well it's not in order from my end."

"Look," Gretchen interrupted, "it's getting close to lunch time and I don't want to be dicking around here all day. You don't want me to fix the glitch, I won't fix the glitch." She pulled a computer pad from her pocket and tapped at it. "Just thumb here to indicate you refused service. When your fertilizer system goes kaflooey, give Compulink a yell and we'll try to get someone down here, but since you refused the free repair, it'll count as an emergency call and you'll pay full emergency rates."

"Not my call," Gretchen said. "Thumb here, please." She thrust the computer pad at Markovi.

Markovi hesitated. "Look, I'm only-"

"Just thumb it," Gretchen said. "I've got other calls to make today."

"No, that's all right," Markovi said, putting his hands behind his back. "Fix the glitch."

"You sure?" Gretchen said, waggling the pad. "Because I can be out of here in-"

"Just fix it," Markovi snapped.

Gretchen put the pad back into her pocket with a shrug. "You're the boss. Can you have someone show me where your equipment mainframe is?"

Markovi nodded to her and tapped the viewscreen off without saying good-bye to Ben, who would deactivate the chip remotely from the Poltergeist. Then Markovi called a husky-looking man into the office.

"This is Joe," Markovi said. "He'll show you what's where."

Gretchen chewed her gum noisily and followed Joe out to the farm proper. The smell of mulch and damp moss assailed her, and the hot sun burned high overhead. Joe took Gretchen to what looked like a wooden barn. Inside, however, were no stables or animals. Instead, they entered a series of tiled corridors and equipment bays full of machines Gretchen didn't recognize. She hoped she wouldn't have to comment on any of them. Fans hummed and overhead pipes gurgled. The air was cool, and no slaves were in evidence. Gretchen glanced around as if in idle curiosity but was careful to memorize the route back in case she had to make a hasty exit.

"Mainframe's in here," Joe said, opening a door and gesturing inside. He was a big man who bulged in places where nothing should bulge, and Gretchen wondered how many weapons he was carrying. Still chewing her gum and keeping her face bland, Gretchen peered suspiciously into the room. It wouldn't be impossible that Markovi was on to her and had somehow told Joe to bop her over the head or zap her with something nasty and lock her in some kind of prison cell. But the room beyond was full of computer equipment. A lone technician tapped at a keyboard. He glanced up as Gretchen entered. Joe shut the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone. Loud classical music floated from hidden speakers.

"Hey," Gretchen said. "I'm Denise Fell with Compulink. Gotta fix a glitch before it becomes a problem."

"Vince Mays," he said without turning down the music. "Systems operator. What's the glitch?" Gretchen cracked her gum and explained. Mays said, "There's a terminal over there. Do what you have to."

Gretchen sat at the indicated keyboard. A single tap brought up the holographic screen, and she positioned herself between it and Mays so Mays couldn't read over her shoulder. Then she pressed a finger to her ear. The implant in her ear canal sprang to life.

"Okay, Ben, I'm in," she sub-vocalized. Mays's music helped cover the sound. "You still have access to my eye implant?"

" I'm with you," came Ben's voice. " Put your pad on the desk so the IR beam can link up with the mainframe. The program I put in it should hack you root access, just like a real Compulink tech would normally have. Sunnytree's equipment mainframe isn't linked to the outside, so their computer's security probably isn't all that great-they'll be figuring you can't hack what you can't get to."