Profiteer

Within a day of his order, Argus Datasearch supplied him with three thick packets of information. All of them he’d downloaded into his onboard computer to peruse at his leisure.

 

According to Argus’ data, Tetsami’s parents had come to Bakunin over two standard decades ago, from Dakota. That was interesting. Dakota was one of the Seven Worlds, and that entire arm of the Confederacy was populated by the descendants of Terran genetic engineering. Most of the people of the Seven Worlds were as radically nonhuman as one of the squid-delphine natives of Paralia. The natives of Dakota, however, were descended from gene-engineered humans. Unfortunately, all the data indicated was origin—not what made the Tetsamis different.

 

Tetsami’s parents had gone to work for Holographic DataComm, a broadcast network that no longer existed. The reason HDC no longer existed was a dirty little corporate war over broadcast airspace. A war that fried every one of HDC’s on-line hardwire console jockeys when the competition lobbed an electromagnetic pulse at the corporate HQ. HDC’s computers were EMP hardened— unfortunately, the console jocks weren’t.

 

Scratch Tetsami’s parents.

 

Seven years later, Tetsami went into their line of work. Strictly freelance, though. She could’ve made a lot more by latching on to some corporation. She’d been hacking the comm net for eight years standard.

 

There was another interesting thing in her file.

 

No wonder she trusts Jorgenson.

 

Ivor Jorgenson had come to Bakunin from Styx within three years of Tetsami’s parents. He had worked transport for HDC until the shit hit the fan. The file had little personal data, but Dom was adept at reading between the lines. The parallel addresses listed for both Tetsami and Jorgenson over a seven-year stretch was enough. Jorgenson must’ve been a friend of the Tetsamis’ and had taken care of the kid after the balloon went up.

 

Another thing Dom noted was the fact that Jorgenson and Tetsami diverged when Tetsami took up her parents’ profession. From the record, she was only thirteen at the time.

 

The other data on Jorgenson showed that, indeed, he’d make a good driver for the job. Spotless record in nearly twenty years standard. Freelancer since HDC. Most importantly, no connection to the Confederacy in any way, shape, or form.

 

However, for some reason that man made him uneasy.

 

Dom supposed it was the reminder about Styx.

 

The third file was Johann Levy.

 

The data here was sparse, but Levy seemed to be what Tetsami claimed he’d be, a wired-in part of Godwin’s seamy underside. The data said that Levy had been involved in the uprising against the theocracy on his home planet of Paschal. That seemed to give him a good reputation in this part of Godwin.

 

The uprising on Paschal had happened after Dom left the TEC, but he had heard about it. A collection of teachers, lawyers, and students demonstrating against the more extreme excesses of the Paschal government.

 

When the Paschal Elders called in the TEC, the revolution found out exactly what extreme was. As far as Dom knew, the mass grave didn’t even have a marker.

 

Dom had heard rumors that Paschal was where his brother got his commission, and a promotion to a desk job.

 

More important, though, the ex-lawyer Levy had made a reputation for himself as a safecracker.

 

As they waited outside Levy’s bookstore, Dom wondered if he had enough data on Levy to trust him.

 

Answer: he didn’t have enough data on anyone.

 

The bookstore they waited outside felt ironic to Dom. Just the fact that Bolshevik Books sold books, expensive, paperbound tomes of a generally political nature, gave Dom a feeling the place marched about half a cycle out of phase with the rest of the universe. Truly ironic was the fact that the place had a distinctly anticapitalist slant, and they were going to ask the owner to help resurrect a corporate enterprise.

 

Dom sat next to Tetsami in the front seat of a used Royt groundcar. They were both similarly clad in leather-covered monocast armor, and they both now wore personal field generators. His old exec suit had found its way into a disposal shaft in the Waldgrave the second day of their stay.

 

Today, Dom had moved them into cheaper accommodations. Dom had rented a small warehouse from Bleek Munitions. He rented the warehouse because it sat on top of the main spur of the same Godwin-Proudhon commuter tube that he and Tetsami had hidden in after escaping the Church.

 

Dom noticed that he was drumming his fingers on the control console and forced himself to stop. They had been waiting for two hours.

 

They were parked across the intersection of Sacco and West Lenin from the store, waiting for it to close. Tetsami had said she didn’t want anyone walking in while they talked to the owner.

 

“What do you know about this Johann Levy? Other than the fact he’s a demolition expert.”