fruit of Karlovskaya species, rich in Vitamin A. Flavor: sour, with sweet aftertaste. Appearance: red tetrahedron with rounded corners."
Claire picked out a rough pyramid-looking red fruit. "Demonstrate peeling."
The woman on the screen scraped the compa with some sort of implement that did not look like a knife. Claire pulled open the kitchen drawers, rummaging through until she found a similar looking tool.
A soft chime rang through her apartment.
"You have visitors," the AI announced dutifully.
Venturo. Her heart hammered. Her mouth went dry.
"Visual," she said.
The screen ignited. Claire's heart sank. Tonya stood at the door, accompanied by an old man and another that looked in his early forties.
She clenched her teeth, furious with herself. This obsession with Ven had to end. It was turning her into a nervous wreck, catapulting her from one emotional extreme to the next. Enough was enough. Claire exhaled, finding calm.
"Open," she said.
The door swung open, and Tonya and the man in his forties bowed, letting the older one through the door first. Claire wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and walked up to greet them.
The older man examined her, taking her measure. Age whitened his hair, and he walked leaning on a cane, but the eyes that looked at her from under the thick eyebrows remained sharp. He was carrying a satchel. The other man hovered protectively over him. She didn't recognize either of them.
Tonya approached. "Retainer Shannon, we are sorry to call on you so early in the morning, but our need is great. This is Doreem Nagi, our Building Elder, and Charles Monn."
Claire inclined her head, touching her forehead in a sign of respect. "Thank you for looking after my mother."
Doreem nodded to her.
"We seek your help," Tonya said.
"Please sit down." Claire led them to the couches. Everyone took a seat.
Charles reached into his shirt and pulled out a small tablet. On it an image of a blond teenage boy glowed. The boy's face wore the familiar Uley expression: a flat mask, betraying nothing.
"This is Edu," Charles said. "He's fourteen."
The image slid, turning into a portrait of a teenage girl. "Lada."
Another image, another child. "Karim."
"They are children from our building, refugees like us," Tonya said.
"They got into a fight at school," Charles said. "With some local kids. One of the local boys involved claimed that his dagger was stolen in the commotion. The dagger was found on the boy's desk the next day with a broken blade. The dagger is a family heirloom. The school is willing to overlook the fight, but the child's family is upset."
"The security forces took the dagger," Tonya added. "For trace testing."
"The children were questioned," Charles said. "None of the three is admitting to theft and neither are they denying it. They aren't speaking to authorities."
It was a familiar tactic: when in trouble, say nothing. "I see."
"If traces of their DNA are found on the dagger, they will be charged with theft and destruction of property. The charge violates their probation. The children will be taken from their families and deported," Charles said.
"Did they steal the dagger?" Claire asked.
"Yes," Doreem said. "Edu took it to punish the other child. Edu is my grandson. Karim and Lada helped."
"I see."
"We've offered to make reparation to the boy's family," Charles said. "In exchange for dropping the inquest. They declined."
"We ask you to..." Tonya fell silent and glanced at Charles. They looked at their hands, uncomfortable.
"We need your help," he said. "The results of the testing must be negative."
"You want me to log into the bionet and alter the trace analysis?"
"Yes." Tonya exhaled.
Claire leaned back. The Security Forces Database would be under a layered protection protocol of at least level three or higher. Cutting into it would be a nightmare.
"You are asking me to break into a security installation. It will be very well protected. There are defenses to be overcome. The precise manipulation of data will require time. It's a lot harder to alter data than to erase it."
"We've collected credits," Charles said. "From the families. We will gladly pay -"
He saw the look on her face and clamped his mouth shut.
"We have insulted you," Doreem said. His sharp eyes stabbed at her. "We ask forgiveness."
"Apologies," Charles bowed his head.
They thought that because she had left the building, she wouldn't understand. They thought she only cared about money. She understood. Every refugee from the building had conspired to save the children. That's what a community did in times of trouble.
"Please continue," Charles asked.
"Think of the data as being guarded by a pack