sniper rifle down and cleaning every part with a greasy rag.
“Do you have any other hobbies, Raven?”
“It’s not a hobby.” She didn’t look up. A piece of her rifle was getting its wipe-down. “It’s necessary maintenance.”
Andrew Jones walked by. “Hey, Barrett. Did you find the asshole?”
“I found him. And he is an asshole.”
“Well, that stands to reason. It would almost be a little upsetting if his personality had changed since the last time we’d seen him.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
It was a weird thought, and a weird thing to take comfort from. Lucien Klein is still an asshole, and all's right with the world.
“You’re thinking, Tycho.”
“You’re right. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
Andrea came into the room. “Tycho, you’re back! Did you get those components Thomas needed?”
“Right here.” I opened my bag and pulled out the two packages. “Klein was using these illegally. He’s conducting some kind of experiment at The 3000 Initiative, but I wasn’t able to find out what it was.”
“And you call yourself a spy?” teased Andrew.
Andrea frowned. “I didn’t ask him to figure out what he was doing. Just to get these parts from Klein.”
Jones poured himself a glass of water. “Never hurts to do a little extra, right?”
She shrugged. “It does if it compromises other tasks. Good work, Tycho. Now we can put Thomas on the Huxley project for real and find out what that strange man actually knew about the Eleven. Assuming there’s anything to that story.”
I knew exactly what she meant. Ever since I’d hit Tower 7, I’d been chasing this elusive legend of the Eleven. Who were they, really? The way Huxley had spoken of them, I had the impression that they were near-immortals like Huxley himself had claimed to be. And that did tie in with what had happened to August Marcenn—
Andrew walked back by. “Tycho, you’re thinking again.”
I sighed. “Would you rather I not?”
Andrea frowned. “I don’t mind you thinking, it’s your habit of brooding about the evils of the world I find slightly troublesome.”
“Yeah, Tycho here is a regular Don Quixote,” commented Andrew.
“Then I guess that makes you Sancho Panza,” I replied.
“Just because you’ve read a book doesn’t mean you understand the characters.” He went back in his room, sparing me from having to admit that I hadn’t actually read the book.
“What’s up with him?” I asked Andrea.
“Jones? Oh, nothing really. He’s just in a pissy mood because I denied his vacation request.”
“That reminds me—”
“Not right now, Tycho. I don’t want to hear the word vacation until we run out the truth about the Eleven.”
I wondered why it was so important to her but decided not to ask. I wasn’t sure why, but everyone had seemed slightly tense since I got back from Mars. Not that I’d spent more than an hour or two at home since then.
Raven looked up from her sniper rifle. “Hey, boss.”
Andrea turned to her. “Yes?”
“If you don’t need to send Tycho to Jupiter or Pluto or somewhere by the end of the day, how about giving us the night off? I want to have a drink and catch up with him.”
“What is it with everyone and time off? You’d think this was a day job.”
Raven just stared at her, waiting for a reply. Andrea threw her hands up. “Alright. You two go and get drunk. I’ll stay here and save the Federation myself.”
“Thanks, boss.” Raven smiled sweetly and went back to cleaning her rifle. Apparently it was not necessary to ask me whether I would be interested in going out for drinks together. It was just assumed.
“Come with me, Tycho.” Andrea started for Thomas’s door. “You can at least get one thing done before you go out for the evening.”
I followed her without a word, carrying the two packages. Andrea knocked on the door, but Thomas didn’t answer her at first.
“Come on, Thomas,” Andrea called. “I told you I wouldn’t bother you until Tycho got back, so if I’m bothering you now, that obviously means he’s back.”
The door opened, and Thomas stuck his head out. “You mean Klein actually had the components?”
“Yes, Thomas.” Andrea’s voice was somehow soothing and sarcastic at the same time. “He had them before. Tycho has them now. And in just a moment, you will have them.”
“Well, hand them over.” He stuck his hands out, clearly not inviting me or Andrea into his room and workspace.
“We’ve talked about this, Thomas.” Andrea’s voice was stern.
“Please hand them over, Tycho. Thank you. Is that better?”
“That wasn’t so difficult was it?” I handed