Crossover: A Cassandra Kresnov Novel by Joel Shepherd

Author:Joel Shepherd [Shepherd, Joel]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Prometheus Books
Published: 2010-10-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

“Tell Sandy I miss her.”

She stood before Director Ibrahim's desk in his personal office, fully armoured but for weapons and helmet left outside. Under the harness and compression feedback, she knew she was beginning to stink, but there hadn't yet been an opportunity to change. Vanessa stood at ease beside her, watching with curiosity.

“Sandy being yourself,” Ibrahim said with a gesture. His eyes were narrowed but otherwise expressionless. If he was irritated at the interruption to his massively overloaded schedule, it did not show.

“Yessir.” A deep breath. “My team called me Sandy, for short.” And Vanessa had at some point or other adopted the same name. When had that happened?

“And you have no reason to suspect the Tetsu AI—Cody?”

She blinked herself back to the present moment.

“Nossir. In the brief exchanges we had, Cody seemed all aboveboard.”

“He's got no record,” Vanessa added. “His design schematics are first rate, his psyche evaluations give him a continuous record of triple-clearance—his last evaluation was thirteen weeks ago.

And he used a regional direct channel to contact her, so I was able to register the linkup myself from the driver's seat. He seems textbook, by all indications.”

Ibrahim thought about it, deep brown eyes burning with intelligence. The office was surprisingly spartan—simple, efficient and functional. Any view from the window was obliterated by grey sheets of rain. There were the predictable flags on the walls and photographs on the desk, but the rest was bookshelves, a terminal with interface equipment and some framed photos on the walls. A tall, leafy plant by the door looked shamefully extravagant. Sandy wondered if it felt guilty.

“Who,” Ibrahim said then, “do you think it could be? Specifically.” Some question that was.

“I don't know, sir.” She felt slightly dizzy, standing there, in a way that had nothing to do with recent exertions. It was a wild, crazy possibility. One she'd been more than half expecting, logically. As had Ibrahim, having seen the reconstruction sim of the Parliament attack, and drawing the same conclusions about its origin that she had. She was good at that. Being logical. There was a natural disconnect, in her brain, between logic and emotion. Something she'd learned, she was sure, rather than been designed with. But to have it actually happen, to be confronted head on by the terrible, wonderful, earth-shaking possibility…her head spun and her knees felt weak. “I still don't understand how it's possible that one of them might be alive. I saw the Intel reports. Secret ones that I wasn't supposed to see—I hacked into them. It was very comprehensive. The entire target was detonated with all of them aboard. The whole thing was one big GI trap, and they were all on board when it blew. That's what the reports said, and I can't conceive of how they could be wrong.”

“I understand that, Cassandra,” Ibrahim replied patiently, “but the question remains—who do you think it could be? Assuming that at least one of them did survive?” The question shook her. Assuming…good Lord, did he realise what he was asking her to do? It was no simple hypothetical, not for her.

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