As the Annalian consul had used him as courier for more and more information transfers, Ashton had begun to take more risks. He had been outfitted by General Daggert with a suite of tiny espionage tools before he left Sintar, and now he began to use them. The principal tool of use to date had been a little data reader that he could slip onto the storage devices, unseen, even as he dropped them into his pocket; it read the files on the device in fractions of a second, and recorded it. He had three, and they were easy enough to switch from one storage device to another, since they really only had to be in proximity. Then he could download the information to his personal VR later, for perusal and determining how sensitive it might be. Anything that wasn’t of interest, he deleted, and anything that looked suspicious, he kept in a little storage device of his own.
It wasn’t that surprising that there was a conversation ongoing about whose spies were emplaced where, he supposed. Nor was it surprising what they wanted. By this point, everyone knew about the little ships the Imperial Navy had – incredibly swift, amazingly maneuverable, and frighteningly deadly. All of the smaller polities wanted to know what they were, how they worked, and what sort of countermeasures they could use.
So far, however, none of them had managed to discover any of that.
At some point, he thought, one night after perusing the latest purloined communiques, I have to get this information to the IPD, so they can get it back to Lee and General Daggert. I got names here, of spies from all over the place, back on Sintar, inside Imperial City. We need to make sure we keep up with ‘em and if it comes to it, feed ‘em fake info like what I did to that other Annalian spy – what was her name? Oh yeah – Conrad. I just need to figure out how to ping ‘em so I don’t give myself away.
He ran a hand through his hair. I thought I was ready for this assignment, but damn, there is so much I don’t know, it’s not even funny. Stuff I should have asked, and stuff I should have set up, all before I ever left Sintar. Like an idiot – or a rookie spy, which I am – I never thought about how to pass on the information! Can they possibly trace my VR? I don’t know nearly enough about that tech to know for sure. And I don’t dare head down to the nearest precinct without a damn good reason, like a burglary.
Ashton stared at the wall all evening, trying to figure out what to do.
An Ally Arrives
After several weeks of hyperspace travel and a couple of intermediate stops, ‘Rikhart Fielding’ aka Rick Honda, one of ‘Ashton’s Gang’ of investigators, arrived on Carolina in disguise, at the big spaceport in the capital city of the sector, Franklin. Normally a brunet, he had dyed his hair a red-blond, and used makeup to adjust his skin tone a little to give himself a ginger complexion. His naturally-hazel eyes worked well with the new complexion, so he hadn’t bothered with tinted contact lenses, as it would be more comfortable without them.
He gathered up his lone duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, and headed for the main concourse, and the various people-mover mechanisms that would take him from the outskirts of Franklin into the city proper.
And someplace in there is Nick, he thought. It’s a damn big city. And I have no idea how to find him. If he’s already managed to infiltrate the consulate, I don’t want to give him away if I can help it.
Well, he thought, as he reached the main concourse and looked around, I’ve never been here before. Maybe my best bet right now is to play tourist and scope out where the embassies are, then spend the next few days exploring, and hope I run into him. At least I have an image of his disguise in VR so I can recognize him when I see him. I don’t think I’d know him as a blue-eyed blond otherwise.
So when he passed a tourist kiosk in the main concourse, he paused to pick up some brochures and a map. Then he asked a few questions of the nice woman behind the counter, who pointed out several locations of interest on the map – including what was locally called ‘Consulate Row,’ and the order of the embassies along the street there – and headed out.
It was a fair distance to Consulate Row, and Honda had not arrived at the spaceport until an hour past noon, local.
So by the time he got past the crowds, queued to board the train, and made it well into Franklin proper, it was getting late in the afternoon. A very hot summer afternoon, at that. He’d forgotten how hot it could get in some parts of other planets; Sintar’s near-lack of an axial tilt meant Imperial City – near the tropical extreme of the temperate zone – tended to stay rather comfortable year-round.
He stopped at a kiosk near a park to grab a light snack – a flavored shaved ice cup, to cool down – then continued onward, determined to at least find Consulate Row before locating a decent but inexpensive hotel.
But by the time he stood in Consulate Row, it was nearly quitting time in Franklin, and Honda had had nothing substantial since breakfast on the starship... and that had been even longer ago than breakfast for the Franklinites had been. He was getting a little light-headed from the lack of fuel.
Still, Honda pressed on; he was now determined to find the Annalian consulate tonight, then he would throw in the towel, find a
