Page 43 of Coldwire
“Isaid,” I try again, “are you going to unpack?”
“No point,” Kieren replies. “We might be on the move again tomorrow.”
“It would take you, like, ten minutes to unpack your clothes.” I emerge from the bathroom, putting my hands on my hips. “Maybe five minutes to put everything back in if you rush.”
“I have a routine. I can’t just take stuff in and out. It’s been ordered like soil horizons, each bedrock of clothing speaking to a specific—”
“Okay, okay, forget I said anything,” I interrupt, scooping up the pajamas I left on the table.
I return to the bathroom and close the door. While I change, the mirror reflects back the sides of my arms inexplicably dusted with grime from the mall, and I grimace. Of course Kieren would let me walk around looking like this. There aren’t any towels—it’s a budget hotel, no amenities on offer—but I grab toilet paper and scrub.
It’s just when I’m reaching for the last splotch that my entire display fills with a call, and I tumble off-balance, hitting my hip against the side of the bathtub before going down.
“You all right?” Kieren calls in.
“Yes!” I snap. It’s not his fault that I was taken by surprise, but I’m still mad at him adjacently. “You’re on this too?”
“I’m seeing it. Should I answer?”
“Wait.”
I stumble to my feet. When I exit the bathroom, Kieren remains diagonal on the bed, though he’s flipped onto his stomach now. He’s braced on his elbows, casual while he thumbs through a comic book. There’s a stack that he plucked from the front pocket of his bag and placed on the bedside table, scattered alongside various Atahuan-language newspapers that he must have picked up on his walk between the landing station and the Lovers’ Café. I scan the large print, which screams,NIK GRANT’S DARING ESCAPADE, NIK GRANT AND ATAHUA’S DOWNFALL, NIK GRANT AND—before hurrying to sit at the foot of the bed.
“Ready.”
The call connects. With the both of us on a shared line, our systems communicate and void the double display, projecting into the room instead.
There’s no image cast onto the wall. Only a quavering audio waveform, bouncing up and down when a voice says, “Hello, cadets. You can hear me well?”
“We hear you,” I answer.
“I’ve never seen this call origin before,” Kieren adds. He’s swiping through the metadata on the display still open in his eyes.
“It’s a back channel to make sure we don’t get any wiretapping.” The waveform shrinks small while the line rustles. The caller is rummaging through paper on their end. “All right. Cadets Lia Ward and Kieren Murray, welcome to your briefing on the ground.”
I got mentioned first,I mouth to Kieren.
Kiss my ass,Kieren mouths back.
“I’m Kam—that’s spelled with aK—officer number 4092, stationed in Medaluo under NileCorp employment and assigned liaison for academy exams,” our caller goes on. “All material relevant to your posting will reach you through me. If you are contacted by anyone else claiming to possess information, assume it to be fraudulent and get in touch with me immediately, understand?”
“Yes,” Kieren and I answer in unison.
“Great. So easy. I’m looking at your administrative task list, and your first step tomorrow will be to register Mr. Murray with Voluntary Declaration of Foreign Visitors at the nearest precinct. Miss Ward, you are welcome to join him if you want to declare yourself an Atahuan tourist, but chances are low you’ll be asked for identification.”
We nod along. Even if Kam can’t see us, I suppose the sentiment is understood. I can’t envision the person who accompanies this voice—it’s been altered to be rid of any identifying features, no indication of man or woman, old or young.
“Shortly following registration, you may proceed to the last-known whereabouts of Mr. Chung. We—as in the company—will have your entry route prepared accordingly. Find what you can inside. You’re looking for likely causes of his disappearance, his next steps.” A pause. “Gauging by how thin your briefing folder is, I gather your academy believes this should be a quick examination.”
Personally, I thought our folder was rather thick. We have ten weeks to complete our final posting. NileCorp wouldn’t design it to be as easy as infiltrating Chung’s last-known whereabouts and simply reporting on his possible motivations.
“Sorry,” I interject. “I thought our briefing said the goal was to find Chung.”
“That is correct.”
“You think that’ll be doable only having his last-known whereabouts?”
“It depends on whether he’s on the move or not,” Kam answers. “We can recalibrate accordingly after. This line is open to your call at any time if you want to report in.”
