Page 39 of Scion

“Don’t tell anyone.” Her voice is a hoarse growl. I’ve never known whether it’s from years of trying to shout over the noise up here, or always been that way. “Found enough shielding for the tech to stay up for about an hour at a time, but DeGov would strip it if it knew.” She studies me and then smiles, showing perfect white teeth, before reaching across and patting my hand. “Azure. Bloody hell. Azure. Heard you were dead.”

“Close. Still working off my debt. Who went and fed you that nonsense?”

“Little Dan.”

“Well there’s your problem.”

The corners of her lips curl again. Just slightly. “Yeah, but even Little Dan don’t screw around with acquaintances dying.”

“Acquaintances?”

“Three years?”

I concede the point. “How is Little Dan?”

“Dead. Vent breach ’bout… two years ago.”

“Damn.” I liked him. “Andre?”

“Faulty suppression system, ’bout six months after Dan.”

“Jenna?”

“Good god. Jenna.” She says the name as if she’s dredging it from some back corner of her mind. “Weren’t she dead last time you were here?”

“I don’t think so. Not during our conversation about weather patterns, anyway.” I sigh. “Anyone except you who isn’t dead?”

“Mick.”

“Oh.” I cluck my tongue. “Well that’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “Life. So. Much as I enjoy seeing your pretty face, gotta assume this isn’t social.”

“Why does everyone say that?” I feign hurt.

“Three bloody years?”

“Right.” I sigh. “How’s your access?”

“Same as always. Skimmer’s still active. No way to centralise or organise, but give me some parameters and I can give you a raw dump. Atti should be able to sort out—”

“No Atti.”

“Oh.” She pauses. Looks at me for a very long few seconds, those yellow eyes of hers burnished in the quivering air. “Oh.”

“Yup.”

Silence as Chandra takes it in. It’s been a while, but her eyes have always been expressive. Confusion. Suspicion. Then worry—for me, I think, rather than herself.

“Expensive to run an off-net filter,” she says eventually.

I bring out my pad and tap in a few details. Slide it across.

She looks at the numbers impassively. “I think you hit an extra zero.”

“Nope.” Not my whole cut from Manuel’s, but a decent chunk.

“Huh.” She makes a small, absent motion with her hands. You sure?