down. Don’t let Bienvenido down. But be careful around Valentin Murin. Be very careful.”
She gave him a fast derisive salute.
Chaing walked away, wondering how in the empty heavens Gorlan had ever managed to get her to agree to being an informer.
I need to read her file. All of it.
—
The PSR’s records division belonged to Ashya Kukaida, a 172-year-old who ruled the two extensive basement halls as if she were running a Void-era aristocrat’s fiefdom. Office directors and department deputy directors came and went, but Ashya Kukaida went on forever. Her phenomenal (natural) memory was the Opole office’s greatest weapon in the fight against Faller incursions. Her obstinacy was legend, and the loyalty of her clerks fanatical. If you gained her disapproval, you had no future in the Opole PSR office. Any serious operation needed her cooperation to succeed.
Chaing knocked respectfully on her office door.
“Come,” she said.
Her office’s brick walls were painted a gloss white. Double the usual number of caged bulbs were fitted to the arched ceiling, making it seem more like a solarium than an underground haunt. There was only one desk—also white—and one chair. She sat there in her usual gray suit and white blouse, her thinning hair arranged in a tight bun. Three middle-aged clerks in identical black suits were in attendance, holding files and boxes of photographs. The desktop had twenty-five photographs arranged in a neat square, which she was studying through her thick glasses.
“Colonel Kukaida.” Chaing gave a small bow.
“Ah yes, Captain Chaing.” She looked up from the photographs. “You seem to have impressed Director Yaki. I was asked to prioritize your operation.”
“Yes, Colonel. I believe a nest may have infiltrated Opole.”
“Well, of course you do. You’re in the Faller incursion division; what else would you be investigating?”
“I am determined to expose and eliminate them.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Could you please tell me if you know anything about the Elsdon family?”
“Let me see.” She drew a deep breath. “Pre-Transition merchants, not true aristocrats like everyone thinks. You needed to have at least ten generations of wealth behind you to qualify for that. They were only on their third generation when we underwent the Great Transition. But they would have gotten there eventually. Their woolen mills produced some exceptionally fine products. Half the houses on Opole will have one of their blankets on a bed somewhere. It was a shame the council shut down the mill.”
“Apparently it was out of date.”
“Age does not automatically imply obsolescence, Captain.”
“No, Colonel.” He finally saw that the photos on the desk were the ones Jenifa had taken of Caden. “That’s one of my suspected Fallers. Do you recognize him?”
“We don’t have a file on the gentleman in question, which is interesting. Normally someone in his profession will have encountered the sheriffs at some stage. Well, we do now. My clerks are contacting the city registry to see if he’s a native. A background will be compiled.”
“Thank you. Every detail will be helpful.”
Ashya Kukaida pushed her glasses back down and returned to the photographs. “Lieutenant Lurvri is in the index office on the second level,” she said without looking up. “I have assigned two clerks to assist your inquiries.”
Which was all Chaing really wanted to know. “Thank you, Colonel.”
Chaing made his way down the glass-walled central stairs. The record halls stretched out on every side. Row after row of metal filing cabinets illuminated by stark electric bulbs hanging from the arched brick ceiling. Just looking at them made Chaing faintly depressed. The Opole office alone held over a million and a half files on citizens, and it was nowhere near the largest PSR office on the planet.
As he made his way to the second level’s index office he found himself wondering how much of the
She gave him a fast derisive salute.
Chaing walked away, wondering how in the empty heavens Gorlan had ever managed to get her to agree to being an informer.
I need to read her file. All of it.
—
The PSR’s records division belonged to Ashya Kukaida, a 172-year-old who ruled the two extensive basement halls as if she were running a Void-era aristocrat’s fiefdom. Office directors and department deputy directors came and went, but Ashya Kukaida went on forever. Her phenomenal (natural) memory was the Opole office’s greatest weapon in the fight against Faller incursions. Her obstinacy was legend, and the loyalty of her clerks fanatical. If you gained her disapproval, you had no future in the Opole PSR office. Any serious operation needed her cooperation to succeed.
Chaing knocked respectfully on her office door.
“Come,” she said.
Her office’s brick walls were painted a gloss white. Double the usual number of caged bulbs were fitted to the arched ceiling, making it seem more like a solarium than an underground haunt. There was only one desk—also white—and one chair. She sat there in her usual gray suit and white blouse, her thinning hair arranged in a tight bun. Three middle-aged clerks in identical black suits were in attendance, holding files and boxes of photographs. The desktop had twenty-five photographs arranged in a neat square, which she was studying through her thick glasses.
“Colonel Kukaida.” Chaing gave a small bow.
“Ah yes, Captain Chaing.” She looked up from the photographs. “You seem to have impressed Director Yaki. I was asked to prioritize your operation.”
“Yes, Colonel. I believe a nest may have infiltrated Opole.”
“Well, of course you do. You’re in the Faller incursion division; what else would you be investigating?”
“I am determined to expose and eliminate them.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Could you please tell me if you know anything about the Elsdon family?”
“Let me see.” She drew a deep breath. “Pre-Transition merchants, not true aristocrats like everyone thinks. You needed to have at least ten generations of wealth behind you to qualify for that. They were only on their third generation when we underwent the Great Transition. But they would have gotten there eventually. Their woolen mills produced some exceptionally fine products. Half the houses on Opole will have one of their blankets on a bed somewhere. It was a shame the council shut down the mill.”
“Apparently it was out of date.”
“Age does not automatically imply obsolescence, Captain.”
“No, Colonel.” He finally saw that the photos on the desk were the ones Jenifa had taken of Caden. “That’s one of my suspected Fallers. Do you recognize him?”
“We don’t have a file on the gentleman in question, which is interesting. Normally someone in his profession will have encountered the sheriffs at some stage. Well, we do now. My clerks are contacting the city registry to see if he’s a native. A background will be compiled.”
“Thank you. Every detail will be helpful.”
Ashya Kukaida pushed her glasses back down and returned to the photographs. “Lieutenant Lurvri is in the index office on the second level,” she said without looking up. “I have assigned two clerks to assist your inquiries.”
Which was all Chaing really wanted to know. “Thank you, Colonel.”
Chaing made his way down the glass-walled central stairs. The record halls stretched out on every side. Row after row of metal filing cabinets illuminated by stark electric bulbs hanging from the arched brick ceiling. Just looking at them made Chaing faintly depressed. The Opole office alone held over a million and a half files on citizens, and it was nowhere near the largest PSR office on the planet.
As he made his way to the second level’s index office he found himself wondering how much of the
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