“No, I don’t need to—” Kiem began.
“Yes,” Jainan said, looking strained. “You should. If not now, then in the morning. I don’t want to disrupt your entire schedule. The school is expecting you, and I have embroiled you in this far enough.”
Aren was looking between them curiously. Kiem, suddenly aware that they were in public, shut his mouth on a refutation. He was no judge of what was appropriate, but he could read a conversation that far, and it wasn’t as if he was much help at trawling through data. “Right,” he said. “Take your time. I’ll come back here after—or I can meet you at the palace. Whatever works. I’ll go in the morning.”
“That’s settled then,” Aren said. He gave them a wave as he turned. “I’ll alert the Systems team. Jainan, send over your findings about the hacking attempts, would you?”
Jainan turned back to his report the moment Aren left. Kiem dozed off in a chair, then unstuck his eyes and went to sort out their sleeping arrangements.
All the base offered to house guests were tiny rooms with cots the size of coffins, so Kiem took one room for himself and another for Jainan. They were hours away from the nearest journalist: Hren Halesar never had to know. He eventually had to drag Jainan away from his work to get some sleep. He tried to do the same himself, but the cot’s mattress was hard and thin, and he slipped into an uneasy doze while hazy visions of soldiers and Internal Security went through his head.
The next day, Aren pinged them both to his office before Kiem was properly awake.
Aren’s entire demeanor had changed. Before, he had given off a bright energy, as if he still hadn’t quite processed that his previous commander might have been murdered. Now, he was sober, with a pale face and dark shadows ringing his eyes from lack of sleep.
“I have had a bad night,” he greeted them. “Colonel Lunver’s on her way out here, and she isn’t happy. Apparently I shouldn’t have let you into our systems but, honestly, fuck that. I need answers.” He threw a screen up to hover above his desk. “Here’s the really bad news.”
Kiem didn’t know what he was expecting to see, but it absolutely wasn’t a picturesque shot of the gates outside the Imperial College.
“Please tell me this isn’t some kind of military joke,” Kiem said. Jainan looked as baffled as he felt.
Aren gave him a humorless slash of a smile. “We traced the network intrusion,” he said. “We had to go fairly deep into the comms grid, but we found the identifiers. It came from the Imperial College networks.”
“Nobody at the College would hurt Taam,” Kiem said. “He didn’t study there. He went to officer academy. Nobody even knew him at the College.”
“Wish that were true!” Aren said. “That would make my life much easier. But there is a connection.”
He made a sharp-angled gesture toward the screen, and something else appeared: a picture of a person. Kiem blinked.
“Not possible,” Jainan said sharply, at the same time as Kiem said, “Isn’t that Professor Audel?”
It was Audel. Kiem had only met her in person once but remembered her face: the engineering professor with straggly white hair who had watched Jainan sharply at the College reception then asked him to join her project. “Come off it, Aren,” Kiem said. “You’re looking for a student with too much time on their hands, not an Imperial College professor.”
Aren laughed, short and sharp. “Am I?” He made a second gesture, and another photo appeared: Audel, only a few years younger. She wore the blue uniform and silver tabs of a military captain.
“She was recruited as a technical expert,” Aren said. “We bring in people from various industries—she’s been in and out of academia and commercial mining for years. I found her resume. Her military career stops there, though. Because she made a complaint about Prince Taam, who was only just out of officer academy then, and he made a counter-complaint to General Fenrik. She was discharged as incompetent for her role.”
“What?” Kiem said. He shot a glance at Jainan. “You didn’t know anything about this, right?”
“This is absurd,” Jainan said, his composure showing rare cracks. “She mentioned military experience, but I don’t believe it was—she didn’t know who I was when she met me. She can’t have been holding a grudge against Taam. This is preposterous.”
Aren slumped back in his chair and sighed. “Look at it from my point of view,” he said. “The Auditor wants some straight answers. Internal Security hasn’t found anyone to take the blame. It looks like this professor tried to illegally access the Kingfisher network, and it turns out she had a grudge against Taam. This is the only person we have real evidence against—and at least it’s not a Thean.”
Kiem hadn’t been happy since they walked into Aren’s office, but his whole body recoiled at being complicit in that. “We’re not just looking for someone to turn over to the Auditor,” he said. “We’re looking for what really happened.”
Jainan stared at the floor. “I don’t think she was involved,” he said. “I don’t have proof. I just don’t think so.”
Aren looked at them both dubiously, then at his screen.
“Let me have another look at your network logs,” Jainan said. “Please.”
There was something defensive in it, as if he expected to be turned down, but Aren made an expansive gesture and said, “Carry on. Lunver’s not here for a few hours. Might as well knock yourself out.”
Jainan was quiet as they left Aren’s tiny office. Kiem stopped himself from saying three different things, all inappropriate, and settled for “I should set off for the school.” He opened the door to their makeshift guest room. “I’ll just grab my trunk. See you at the palace.”
Jainan blinked, as if he’d forgotten Kiem was going to Braska. “Oh—” he said, then looked down at his wristband, which was pinging, and went very still.
“Who is it?” Kiem said, but Jainan was already opening the call, with an expression as if the prompt were a nesting bird about to attack.
The face that hovered in front of him was familiar: Kiem had just seen it above Aren’s desk. An older female academic with clips holding back her graying hair. Of course. Kiem had seen Jainan talking to Audel and her students nearly every day.
“Jainan,” Audel exclaimed in apparent pleasure. “I was trying to get hold of you.”
Jainan swallowed and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He nodded.
“Good to see you, Professor.” Kiem stepped into view so Jainan’s wristband would pick him up. “We’re out in the mountains.” Was it urgent? he was about to say, but changed his question midflight, on a hunch: “Can I ask you a quick question?” he said easily. “Did you know Prince Taam?”
Audel frowned. “Unfortunately,” she said. “Why? I suppose Jainan could have told you that.”
“You don’t seem to have told him,” Kiem said.
“Oh,” Audel said vaguely, “I thought I had. But of course—who do you think the project applied to for the data? It was all a bit awkward, of course, given my last job. I still don’t think the man could get drunk in a distillery—I beg your pardon,” she said, breaking off contritely. “I’m sorry, Jainan, I forgot you were there.”