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"What did the app do?" I asked.

He snorted. "I was a devious little shit. It let you take a snapshot of a signature, digitize it, and then send a permission slip, such as an early release form or doctor's note, through a printer. It would then print the signature onto the form, almost perfectly replicating it. It even told you which way to insert the form into the printer so it would print out with the signature in the right spot.”

I went blank for a moment, and then burst out into laughter. "At ten years old, you built an app to forge parents’ signatures?"

He nodded. "I did. And I made over a thousand bucks off it before I got caught. I was forced to dismantle the app and send out a patch that killed it. My parents were equally appalled, pissed, and impressed. I did get to keep the money, though.”

"Impressive."

He shrugs. "That was my first taste of entrepreneurship, and I was hooked. I’ve designed dozens of apps, actually, most of which are still available and supported. I made decent money off my apps—while I did get a scholarship to M-I-T, it was partial and only covered less than a third of the costs. My parents didn't believe in spoiling me, so I had to pay for the rest myself. Which I did, with cash, from various apps. My first corporate job out of college was at a telecom company based in New Jersey, supporting its website and related systems. Boring, menial work that I hated with an unholy passion. No creativity, no freedom, no independence, just trawling through infinite lines of derivative code for gremlins and bugaboos introduced by the no-talent hacks who wrote the code in the first place. The idea for the invention came accidentally, as a matter of fact. My Wi-Fi went down when the company installing new fiber optic lines near my condo fucked up. I was seriously pissed—I missed the finale of a favorite show because of it. I did some investigation and discovered that they'd miscalculated a vector or something like that, and their drill chewed through existing cable. It took them almost a week to find and fix the issue, and it came down to obsolete technology and poor planning. It was a massively stupid and entirely avoidable mistake that cost them a ton of money. And I sat in my condo and watched them dig these holes and run cables with these giant, unwieldy machines, the same thing they've used for who knows how long. So I decided to build something better. And I did. It took me three and a half years before I came up with a working prototype and another two before I had something ready for the market—I’d worked my way up the ladder at the telecom company by then, and when my machine ended up transforming the buried-cable industry, I bought that company outright. It was my first corporate purchase. And to be technical about it, my initial wealth—the truly unfathomable kind of wealth, I mean—came from that purchase. I made a lot from selling the patent of the machine and continue to earn from it, but it was that telecom company that put me on the map—because I could use my invention to bury cable at a fraction of the cost and time as anyone else. I could come in hundreds of thousands of dollars under my competitors and get the job done in days rather than weeks or months, as usual. So I’d be onto the next job while my competitors would still be working on an estimate for the one I’d already finished and been paid for.”

He looked at nothing for a moment, then at me.

"My father had lined up a job for me at his company after graduation from M-I-T. By then he was a senior VP of programming. He had a job for me at the top of the dog pile." He sighs. "When I didn't take the job, my father took it very, very personally. It was over a decade before we spoke again, not by my choice."

"Over a job you didn't take?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes. And I do get it, to a degree. He'd vouched for me, held the position for me until I had graduated, and then I didn't take it. It was egg on his face, I guess, and he was a proud man. I didn't see him again till he got sick. But that…it did something to me. His reaction to my wanting to make my own way left a mark on me. So I get where you’re coming from, Jax, on a very real and personal level, and I respect it. Does your family support you?"

I nod. "God, yes. Uncle X in particular gets it. He's made it clear I’ve got a place with him whenever I want. He's also promised that he'd start me at the bottom and not treat me any differently, but…everyone would know I'm his nephew, and everyone would assume that I only got the job because of Uncle X being my uncle. My family is supportive; they just think it's…I dunno. Kind of silly, I guess. Like who cares, right? It's just that I do care. I don't want to be successful because of my uncle; I want to be successful because I'm damn good at what I do."

Linus nodded. "That's why I would like to hire you. But that's only part of it. You haven't been entirely honest about your accomplishments, have you?" He grins. "I've seen your work, both the legitimate freelance work and the more… under-the-table work."

I shift uncomfortably. "I don't—"

He just laughs and waves me off. "I'm not the one to be shy with, kid. You've done white-hat hacking, but that's a known quantity. Your…other work shows real potential. Your code is tight and efficient and creative. I'm hiring you because I think, given the freedom and resources and time, you'll create something truly remarkable, and I, selfishly, want that to be my project."

Tea asks a question, now. "What other work?"

"And no, not Best Buy," Linus says, droll. "Installing TVs and hooking up Wi-Fi for old ladies is definitely not what I'm referring to."

I shift again. "I, um…I do some programming for… ahhh… well? It’s not exactly illegal, and they're not doing anything nefarious, harmful to people, or destructive to public property. I design bespoke, end-to-end-encrypted messaging systems for political activists—the good trouble kind, the ones who are trying to change the problems with the system through…um…call it…artful chaos and disruption for the sake of drawing attention to problems in the system.”

Tea looked almost amused. "I see. Don't look at me for judgment, Jax. I'm just a pilot."

Linus snorted. "Just a pilot. Humility does not become you, Commander Tiernan."

"I dunno," I said, grinning. "She looks pretty damned becoming to me."

Any trace of amusement vanished like an ice cube in boiling water. “I need to hit the head." Tea scooted out of the bench and hustled toward the restrooms at warp speed, her face set in a chew-steel-and-spit-nails expression.

"She's…interesting," I remarked to Linus, after she'd gone.

He grinned at me. "Oh, she's definitely that, kid. Interesting is certainly a word for her. I don't know her very well myself yet, as I only hired her yesterday, but I have a feeling that if you can crack that iron shell of hers, you'd find a hell of a woman in there." He frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not sure that came out as I intended. She's already a helluva woman. You should see her CV—and what's on there is only what's not classified. I just meant—"

I smirked. "I understood what you meant, Linus. I admit I'm intrigued, but I'm also kinda scared of her. And I’m only half joking."

"She referenced being shot down behind enemy lines and returning as the only survivor. Anyone who can go through that? Yes, I'd say a little healthy respect is called for."

"Damn, okay."

His phone chimed, and he glanced at it—I noticed that the device wasn't anything I'd ever seen before, anywhere, ever. "Ah, I'm to meet my daughter nearby for some preliminary wedding planning, but I wanted to at least see you two off. You and Tea have the day, and she can have the car. We leave at Oh-dark-thirty tomorrow,” he said, and grinned at me. "I imagine that means something different to Tea than either of us, however, so let's say we meet at the heliport a few miles north of town at eight."

I laughed at this. "Yeah, I doubt Commander Tiernan will think of eight A-M as oh-dark-thirty, Linus."

"I'm not a morning person, so it is to me."

"Preach, brother." I blinked. “Um—sir, I mean. Sorry. I have a habit of being overly familiar with people."