“Leave it alone. Too risky. Here’s a code you can use on handhelds, probably better from the surface. It’s direct to a satellite we’ve moved to hold position in range of your location. It’ll shunt any signal with this code to a new segment.”
“Got it,” Ky said, as the code came up on her implant data screen.
“Clear.” The signal vanished, with a last whiff of stink. Ky unplugged her power cable and replaced it around her neck. Dumping Cosper had eased some of her tension, and Kurin’s success in circumventing the palm locks on the weapons did even more, but that and general fitness was all they’d accomplished in the last forty-five days or so. Judging by the average day Greyhaus had recorded for return—and she knew that might be long or short this year—they had 135 to 140 days left to prepare. Weapons would help; she could start figuring out how to defend the place; but what they really needed was a way to leave that didn’t depend on walking and dragging ammunition boxes through the snow.
There had to be more to this place. They had to find it.
“Rector?”
Grace looked up. Olwen looked unsettled, not like her usual cheerful, competent self. “What is it, Olwen? Is everything all right with the family?”
“Yes, Rector, but—I’m so sorry, but I need to resign. Next week. You know I mentioned my husband was looking for a new job, and of course we thought in Port Major, but he’s been offered a wonderful opportunity somewhere else. It’s too far for me to commute, with the children in school and all.”
It was more than inconvenient; Olwen had proven herself far beyond any background checks. But there was no way she could stop the woman leaving. “I’m sorry to lose you, Olwen,” Grace said, folding her hands in front of her. “Remember that you will have to sign out properly—it usually takes two days to do all the paperwork, so let Arnold down in Personnel know right away—or have you?”
“I—I wouldn’t until I’d spoken to you, Rector. I hope you aren’t angry—”
“No, I’m not angry.” Or not at Olwen. At her husband, maybe, for not wanting his wife to work and figuring out a way to make it impossible. But not at Olwen. “Go on and call Personnel and Security—get the process started.” And she’d have to find a new assistant right in the middle of this mess with Ky. She forced a smile, and Olwen made a little sort of dip and withdrew. And now she’d have to break in a new one. She sighed and considered whom to contact first. Too bad she couldn’t have Rafe or Teague. She called Mac.
“I don’t like it. Her replacement should be checked out for more than a week.”
“I know, Mac, but what’s the best way to go? I can try to snag someone out of Vatta Enterprises—”
“They won’t have the security clearance required. I’ll get you a short list today and start in on them.”
“Thanks.”
“You do realize this could be a move by the other side—”
“Yes, of course. But I need someone in that position. I can shift some of the calls I make to my skullphone.”
“Good. Later.”
Two days before Olwen left, Grace and Mac had finally chosen her replacement from the short list and he appeared in her office for the first time. Grace resented having to change assistants, and knew that colored her view of the presentable young man—young to her, though he was thirty-six—who came in the following morning. She did her best to be cordial when Olwen showed him in and announced him.
“Rector, this is Derek Connabi, my replacement.” Olwen sounded sad.
“Ser Connabi, welcome to my staff. I’m glad you were able to change your position at such short notice.” Automatically Grace assessed his physique—neither weedy nor muscular—in terms of conflict. He stood well, upright but not stiff. He was a shade less handsome than his résumé image, of medium build, dark with gray eyes. “Olwen has scheduled the morning to show you where everything is and get you started. Tomorrow is her last day.”
“Thank you, Rector. I’m honored to have been chosen for this, and hope you find my work satisfactory.”
“So do I,” Grace said, to find out how he would react.
“Then, Rector, I had best let Olwen start bringing me up to speed.”
Grace nodded and watched him give a slight bow, then depart. She really did not want Olwen to leave, but Olwen was leaving, and this was the best replacement they’d found.
“What do you think of your new assistant?” Mac asked the next evening, after Olwen’s farewell party had ended.
“He hasn’t done anything wrong yet,” Grace said. “But then he’s hardly had time.”
“Any feelings about him?”
Grace shrugged. “I’m a cranky old woman who hates change and I liked Olwen. That’s my feelings. Rationally, he passed your security check—”
“Shorter than I like—”
“And you’ll have time to dig deeper now that he’s here. We agreed on the algorithm—not choosing the most obvious candidate. We didn’t have time to make a deep list. He’s the best guess, and we’ll just have to see.” She looked at him. “Do you have reservations now?”
“No… it’s just having to make the change so quickly.” He shook his head, as if warding off a fly. “Never mind. I’ll keep looking, you keep being careful.”
Over the next ten days, Grace decided that Derek would do; he was quiet, professionally correct without being stiff, organized and efficient, and showed no inclination to pry into her own affairs. She had set the usual number of subtle traps, things that had caught others up to mischief, but he didn’t trip any of them. MacRobert hadn’t found anything suspicious, not so much as a single late bill payment—in itself suspicious, but not that suspicious. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with him, but she knew she was slow to adjust to new personnel. And she had a great deal to do. She could not spend all her time hovering over his every move.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ky watched the lowest-qualifying group line up in their places on the range. Even they now handled their weapons with confidence and, just as important, absolute adherence to correct procedures. The best group was excellent—not surprisingly, all those had grown up in rural areas and hunted for the table. But the others were catching up fast. These—the worst six—might be reliable at shorter ranges by the time they’d have to use their skills. She was sure they’d need them. Her late-night calls to Rafe, and what he told her about Grace’s investigations, made it clear that her guess had been right.
She still hoped to find a way out of the complex. In less than a hundred days, the enemy might come storming down the ramps—or chase them across the snow-covered landscape topside. Neither option appealed. Yet so far, though they were all sure there were void spaces that should open into this complex, they had not found any entrances. They’d tapped the walls, pushed and tugged at anything that protruded anywhere, attempted to lift the floor covering, without success. Rafe had used a variety of satellite scans that suggested underground passages kilometers long that led away to the west, north, and south, multiple chambers, vertical shafts… but none of these were any use if they couldn’t get in.
When that day’s firing session was done, she let Staff Sergeant Gossin supervise this group’s cleaning and stowage of their weapons, hung her earmuffs on their peg, and left the armory.
When she opened the armory door, Kamat said, “Sir, Ennisay and Inyatta have found something they’re excited about. Past the power control room, they said, left-hand side. It’s open now.”