Page 62 of Scion

The turrets glide almost silently, and quite menacingly, along the roof after me.

Outside the hangar, the offices of the Keres are fairly standard. Nice, of course. Very nice. All tall ceilings and glass corridors and natural lighting and fountains and tasteful greenery for the people who live and work here. It’s early, but I still see a few of the Keres’ employees, most wearing that slightly bleary, I’ve-just-woken-up-and-can’t-remember-exactly-what-I’m-doing expression. Wandering between their apartments and the cafeteria, probably, at this early hour.

They all seem to rouse a little and give us a distinctly wide berth once they see me. Whether it’s the disdain of spotting someone in the distinctly shoddier clothes of the street, or the turrets sliding along behind me, I’m not quite sure.

I’ve been here a few times before as Azure, and this threatening escort is new. Either the Keres are using an abundance of caution—probable, given the past couple of weeks—or I’ve missed an identifier, and they know it’s really me.

Or, I suppose, Crimson is just a hell of a lot more volatile than me. Given even our relatively brief interactions, I’d probably want a couple of death turrets on hand when it arrived, just in case, too.

It’s not long before we reach a large office; Blue-eye makes a gesture and the glass that forms its walls becomes completely opaque, the dark grey sealing away the other empty offices on either side. Despite the enormous amount of floor space in here, there’s just a single desk with a standard terminal, and a single chair behind it.

“Wait here.” Blue-eye closes the door, leaving me alone.

I look around. Those turrets are still watching me, but I don’t have to worry about them. Otherwise, there’s not much else to the room. I slide around the desk and sit myself in front of the terminal. “Atti?”

The screen flickers as she deals with the layers of security that were presumably in the way.

Yeah. Here, appear the words on the screen in big green type. The cam in the corner lets her listen in but there’s no audio in here, apparently. Annoying.

“How is it in there?”

Quiet so far. As soon as I have to countermand the local neural, though, they’re going to know I’m here.

“How long for countermeasures to purge everything?”

Ten minutes. Maybe twenty if we’re lucky. Looks like they’ve added more off-net security in the past twelve hours, too.

“Told you you should have gone earlier.” I lean back in the chair and stretch. It’s well-padded, really quite comfortable.

Too risky. If they’d figured out what was happening before you were in…

“I know.” I sigh. “So. Doesn’t look like they’re bringing me upstairs. How far do I have to go?”

You’re on 104. Schematics on screen now.

“Thirty floors?” I moan the words as I lean forward and start tapping away at the terminal one-handed, examining the diagrams flashing up. It would have been much better to have had these a few hours ago to study properly, but Atti was right: we couldn’t risk the Keres noticing the intrusion too early. “Atti, that’s so much climbing. And my leg still hurts.”

Don’t get injured next time, then.

“Hey! That was not my fault, and you know it. You needed to—”

The door opens. Two assured-looking men in sharp suits walk through, followed closely by Blue-eye. I ignore them, keep working away at the terminal.

“What are you doing?” The first man, I can see from the corner of my eye, is scowling as he takes me in. “That terminal should be locked. Stand up immediately.”

Without taking my eyes from the screen, I pause long enough to hold up a finger to indicate that he needs to wait, and then resume my rapid one-handed tapping, checking for anything that might be concerning about the makeup of the building above us.

Oh, he’s not going to like that.

The man mutters a disbelieving curse, takes two steps toward me threateningly. “I know who you are, you filthy grounder, and I don’t care. Get out of my seat. Now.”

“But then where would I sit?” I ask absently. Grounder? The insults up here really could do with a little bite. I flick to the next floor in the list. Almost done.

I can feel the outrage burning from all three across the desk. They’re Important People, clearly. Or at least, they certainly believe they are. The second man shoves his way past the first, coming to loom over me. He’s muscular, quite big really. “You are under contract, Crimson. We all know what you can do, but you’ve been given your Suppressors. You’re no stronger or faster than the rest of us. And this room is entirely soundproofed. So if you don’t stand up in the next five seconds, I am going to make sure you know your place. And you don’t want me to do that.”

Ah, perfect. They still think I’m the crazy version of me. “I’m not too worried.”

“Why’s that?” The massive man smirks, and cracks his knuckles.