Those gruff words echoed deep inside Trevor’s mind, quickly echoed by a different voice, this one softer.
“All existence forms through the numbers. It will learn.”
Great, Trevor thought. Brilliant timing.
He hadn’t heard from them in three days. They only interrupted when he was alone.
No one knew how much had changed. Not even Shireena.
They gave Trevor no choice.
“What do you want?” He asked.
The golden floaters reappeared in an ordinal sequence, refined over the months. The Enzathi refused to translate the sequence, asking only for Trevor’s patience.
“The bag defies its enemies. It is celebrated.”
“Yes. Thank you. I dealt with Murrill. You promised to stay away until you found a solution. Have you?”
The floaters merged into a three-dimensional tetrahedron.
OK. Here we go.
Trevor followed the usual pattern and looked to his left.
The Enzathi, whose name this intelligence finally revealed after three painstaking months of communication, manifested itself into a vessel through which it spoke fluent Engleshe.
In the first few weeks, it appeared as Ana, just like the day it helped Trevor foil a hostage-taking. Soon as he learned how to negotiate, Trevor demanded it take a different form.
The Enzathi reverted to the human it knew longest, the one with whom it merged after escaping the Void on Tamarind.
“I don’t have much time,” Trevor said. “It better be important.”
Mau Ping bowed his head.
“We have an urgent problem, Governor. We request your help.”
So what else was new?
5
THOMAS QUINLAN NEVER TOOK a day off. When he wasn’t working at his station in the Department of Safety and Profiling under Shireena’s watchful gaze, Thomas filled his hours with a job far more gratifying.
The phantom drill led him on so many fascinating adventures. After four months, what secrets did he not know? What classified proprietary tech remained outside his reach? What business accounts had he not yet shaven of petty UCVs? What political machinations left no technical trail for him to follow?
Screw Nexus!
The bastard cast off Thomas four months ago, not a word from him or his field agents since. He made a simple screwup, a blunder that allowed Shireena to live. And yes, he overstepped in sending the anonymous message to Murrill.
But for Nexus to leave him adrift?
Screw the cudfrucker!
He didn’t rescind Thomas’s access to the phantom drill nor barred him from using it.
Maybe those blunders were for the best. Look what resulted?
Amity Station was his; Thomas only needed to pull the triggers.
When Trevor gave the Haven job to Ramesh, Thomas stewed for five minutes. In retrospect, that job involved too much responsibility. He would’ve been on call nonstop, forced to adhere to countless procedures and considerably more meetings.
Writing performance reviews? No thank you.
Working in DSP meant a regular shift with no surprises. Be a good boy, Thomas told himself, and they’ll never see you coming.
So he profiled with gusto. Even uncovered a pair of Black Star sympathizers and received a commendation from Gov. Stallion himself. Why, this was surely the start of something great!
Just a few more maneuvers, and he’d set endgame in motion.
“Stallion will know it was me, but he’ll learn too late.”
He dreamed of the moment. How and where it played out, and in front of whom.
The shame. The disgrace.
“I will be watching, old friend.”
He sat on a couch inside a nondescript Harmony flat just two levels below where Effans Labroque raised Trevor’s daughter and planned a future with another man.
