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since it does not transmit any measurable energy wavelengths, aside from the short-range connection between the device and your interface, which will be heavily encrypted. It’s technically possible for those to be detected somehow. It’s also technically possible for my encryption to be broken. But If Al-Zamani has that capability, which I highly doubt, then there is no chance for success in this operation, anyway.”

Talk about being optimistic. But Paradox was the expert hacker, not her. “Yeah, okay.” Then she remembered her manners. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “Thank me when we’re done.”

She let go of his arm and then watched him walk away. His gait was smooth, but a little stiff. It was unusual, but certainly no more so than the rest of his behavior had been. Paradox had been nosy, but he’d also been way more forthcoming with her than Kimiko had expected. He was undoubtedly an odd one.

Kimiko grabbed her drink and swallowed the last of her whiskey, savoring its dry, almost nutty flavor. There were still a couple of hours to kill before she met up with the pilot, so she got up from the table, leaving the empty glass behind to be cleared by the bar staff, and went off in search of the Station’s retail concourse.

2

Practical Utility

Davida Station was a little older, as far as Belt stations went, although it was new enough to be constructed without the need for spin-grav. It had clearly been well maintained, but the signs of aging were still there if you looked for them. The high-traffic flooring felt just soft enough to be comfortable as she walked along, although she could tell where traffic patterns were starting to wear into it. The greenery planted along the sides of the corridor, underneath the indirect, full-spectrum lighting, was well-manicured, but was also lush and mature in a way that a newer station could never have achieved. The viewports set periodically along the corridor walls were almost flawless, although, in at least one of them, she noticed where a group of pixels had failed, betraying it as the viewscreen it really was. You seldom saw actual windows in deep-space builds, since they were usually a structural weakness. But there was some kind of a deeply ingrained, maybe even genetic, need for people to be able to look outside, and the viewscreens served that purpose well enough.

Kimiko didn’t know if Davida Station Admin had done the same when setting up the non-public areas. But the money they made mining the Davida asteroid flowed like water from a ground well–and showed no signs of abating any time soon–so she guessed that the non-public sections of the station were probably just as decent.

She mentally replayed the meeting with Paradox as she walked toward the retail concourse. It had gone really well, easily surpassing what she’d predicted to be her best-case scenario. Had things gone too well, though? It was possible. Paradox hadn’t been what she expected at all. Hackers were always portrayed as larger than life in the vids, with outlandish styles and personalities to match. But her hacker was so ordinary he was almost invisible. Like the messages he’d sent, he was deliberate with his language and forthcoming, virtually to a fault. He’d otherwise been nothing but friendly and helpful, and she’d so far gotten what she needed from him at a price she could certainly afford. Taking his QED node into the Shipyard facilities would not be a problem, especially with what he claimed he could accomplish with it. Knowing that he wasn’t acting purely out of altruism was greased up, too. She’d dealt with too many smugglers to believe he was merely some misunderstood do-gooder only committing crimes that benefited those in need. And she was still well within her abort timeframe, although she wasn’t sure if abandoning her operation was even a consideration. Not for the first time since she’d set out on her current path, she questioned her own intentions. Was she really cut out to be a thief?

It wasn’t that she lacked the skills for it. Working as a full-time pilot and courier for a semi-legal organization like her father’s meant that she’d knowingly and willingly participated in smuggling. She didn’t have any moral qualms with that. The Corporate Confederation was an oppressive, soulless, behemoth that weighed down heavily on ordinary corporate citizens like herself. But what it did to the outliers–those unlucky or unfortunate enough to run afoul of the system, or worse, get stuck outside of it–was outright cruel. And smuggling required many of the skills she needed to pull off her plan. Kimiko had the ability and finesse to sneak in and out of places. She was a kick-ass pilot, so she knew she’d be able to get the ship away from the Shipyard without getting caught, even if she were chased. And years of training–not to mention loading and unloading all that cargo–had made her fit as a high-grav gymnast. But, until she carried out her operation, she was still only a pilot and a smuggler. Afterward, she would also be an outright thief, which felt like she’d be crossing a line–one that she wouldn’t be able to come back from.

Her father undoubtedly crossed a similar line at some point. Kimiko wished that she could talk to him again and ask him for advice. She’d done so already, in her head, many times since his arrest. You are trained for this, she imagined he would say. You have the skills, drive, and motivation that are required. The only real question is one of your needs. Is this the correct path for you? Based on your circumstances, do you need to do it? Only you can answer that for yourself.

For her, the answer to that question was still yes. Piloting was in her blood. It was her life. To live a life without getting into the cockpit of some ship, any ship, and taking it far out across the system and back, was something that

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