LITMIR.BIZ

      1

      “You have ten minutes; fifteen minutes tops.”

      Trembling, G’ren’s tentacled limb spread across the white paint. His skin had become so dark he was nearly invisible in the gloom but for the red input port at his temple that was flashing in time with the connection in the wall.

      Nuri swallowed back her fear. What her partner was doing couldn’t be easy, and she didn’t envy the J’veth drone this evening. Despite this being their fifth job as a pair, she was still a bundle of nerves.

      “Got it,” she whispered, scanning the garden below.

      Her pack-mate would keep the property’s AI busy with whatever programme he was inputting, but it was up to Nuri to watch for any patrolling bots or bio-sentries.

      All was peaceful, with only the quiet hiss of sprinklers deep in the tangle of vegetation.

      What a huge garden.

      This Fadhil Tien guy was loaded if he could afford all this real estate so close to the Calan City urban zones. Those were real plants and trees, not clever synth-copies. The air smelt green with life. Ancestors, this was far enough from the city centre and all its lights and billboards that Nuri could even see faint stars through the haze. Tiny pinpricks, to be fair, and the vaguest suggestion of the galaxy’s arm, but real stars – not just a projection in a public area.

      “Focus, Nuri,” she murmured to herself as she dropped from the roof onto the bone-white faux-marble tiles of the floor below. This was the top terrace of the residence, and thanks to G’ren all the cameras would be looping. The security bot was on the other side of the structure two floors down, and only due back up here in fifteen minutes.

      Large blackened-glass walls reflected her shape as she crept along. According to the plans, this was the master bedroom. Fadhil would only return from his function at approximately 1am, and there were no other bio-life forms inside the property. Any staff had gone home hours ago. Around the corner she sneaked, to the sliding door.

      “C’mon, G’ren,” she mouthed.

      On cue, the door sighed open on its tracks, just wide enough for her to slip in before it hissed shut behind her.

      She was in a lounge area, decked out in warm creams and featuring enormous rectangular couches. The plush carpeting beneath the soles of her grip-boots was a thick, shaggy pile like the pelt of the snow-wylde she’d seen in the botanical gardens. Even better, it muffled her steps beautifully.

      She breathed deeply. The warm air smelt sweet and clean, like vanilla.

      What must it be like to live here?

      A screen took up an entire wall. This Fadhil guy could lie here and watch through this window into other worlds. Nuri couldn’t help but feel a stab of envy. The current image was of a ringed gas giant with many moons – most certainly not anywhere within Nuri’s native Aread system. Cerulean and violet clouds swirled on its surface, but that wasn’t what caught her attention.

      A star-jumper hove into view from the right-hand side of the screen. Although Nuri had seen footage of the giant sentients many times, she’d never seen one seemingly so close and on such a crisp screen.

      The thing cruised slowly, a leviathan of the stars. This one’s head boasted a lance that stretched nearly half again its length, like the swordfish at the aquarium, except that its eyes were blacker than black – even viewed on the screen, they absorbed every trace of light. Silent and mesmerising, its fins spread wide, the being moved until it vanished on the left of the screen, trailing faint coruscations of green light in its wake.

      Nuri’s heart twisted. What must it be like to travel between stars at the speed of thought?

      “How’re you doing?” G’ren’s voice buzzed in her comm unit.

      Nuri jerked, mentally cursing herself for getting distracted.

      “I’m in the … lounge?” She kept her voice low.

      “Shake your twigs. This AI doesn’t have the dumbs, and I’m not sure how long I can keep it distracted with buffer attacks.”

      Nuri moved along. According to the plans, the doorway to her left opened into a library. An actual, ancestors-blessed library.

      The room didn’t disappoint either, and it was difficult for her not to pause to take it in, despite the crawly fear that she was wasting time. It was like the Mir’Abelan Museum, but on a much smaller scale. Not just books, but artefacts too. Little statues on plinths. Masks. Pictures. So many pictures. The tall, dark-skinned human with the shaved head who featured prominently must be Fadhil. He had a serious-eyed girl with him in many of the images, her skin tone slightly lighter than his – he must be her father. The same tilt to the eyebrows …

      Here they were on a boat. Blue sky, azure water. There, riding astride a strange beast with grey fur. The little girl’s eyes were wide, and her laugh was captured in that instant. The screens in their heavy wooden frames cycled through more visuals – sometimes a gold-skinned woman with a heart-shaped face was with them. She wasn’t any kind of human Nuri had seen before. The little girl must be their daughter, her facial features somewhere between the mother and the father, and her dark-brown hair hanging in tight curls on her shoulders. Sometimes she wore a bright bandana. Other times, elaborate braids.

      Nuri swallowed back a feeling that hadn’t surfaced in a long, long time – envy.

      This girl in the pictures, always laughing, with both parents. She looked about Nuri’s age. Twelve, maybe thirteen.

      “Nuri.” G’Ren sounded tense.

      “On it.” Nuri hurried to the desk. This evening wasn’t going exactly according to plan.

      Fadhil’s workspace featured a massive desk carved from what must once have been an entire tree trunk. The wood was stained dark, and the surface gleamed slick beneath the dim spotlights.

      The safe was, as she’d been briefed, hidden in a side panel – the door snicked open when she depressed a knot in the wood in the top right-hand corner. It wasn’t the largest safe she’d ever broken into, but the items of interest were small. And rare.

      Thank you, G’Ren, for your hacking smarts.

      Five velvet-covered boxes with rounded lids. Plush blue velvet she ached to stroke and hold up against her skin. Nuri checked the contents, ignoring the fire opal and the two uncut rubies the size of qalu eggs, until she opened the case that contained the dragon pin.

      It was a priceless treasure from before the days of human space travel, her boss Vadith had said. The silver pin had been shaped to look like a creature from the old Terran myths, a dragon with a wedge-shaped head, and a sinuous body curling around the pin. It had garnets for eyes, and they glinted back at her.

      “Nuri!” G’Ren’s voice cracked.

      Nuri started and shoved the pin deep into her jacket pocket. Then she padded back out the way she’d come. Running was bad. Running meant she might not see danger because she was busy making too much noise herself.

      Her pulse was racing, though, and all the small hairs on her nape and her arms prickled. Danger. The interior of the house felt different. Alert. Awake.

      Stars

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