A message was waiting in the holospace at her cubicle. It read, COME TO MY OFFICE. ROOM 414.
Imala checked the agency directory, worried that the room was assigned to one of the auditors she had fingered. She was relieved when she saw that it wasn’t. A senior auditor named Fareed Bakarzai, whom Imala didn’t know, occupied the space. She felt leery about being summoned to a stranger’s office so soon after meeting with Gardona and Ukko Jukes. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
She took the tube up to the fourth floor and knocked on the office door.
“Come in.”
Fareed Bakarzai’s office was an organized disaster. There were stacks of discs, boxes, and files everywhere, all strapped to the floor with long bands. Rows of old tariff and tax-code books lined shelves, though they had to be years, if not decades, out of date. It was the most paper Imala had seen since coming to Luna.
Fareed flicked off his holospace and faced her. He was about the same age as Director Gardona, but the similarities stopped there. Fareed reminded Imala of a few professors from Arizona State: cardigan, beard, slightly unkempt appearance, the kind of person you’d find running an antique store filled mostly with junk.
“Ms. Bootstamp,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Fareed. Welcome. You probably don’t know this, but I’m the man who brought you here. To Luna, I mean. I read your paper on iron trade discrepancies and found it naive in places but mostly on the nose. Very keen observations for a grad student. I had HR do a little digging. When they saw that you had actually submitted an application, I had them pull it from the slush pile and told them to interview you.”
Imala was momentarily speechless. She had no idea. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, sir.”
He shook a finger. “Not ‘sir.’ Fareed.” He gestured to the mess. “I’d offer you a place to sit down, but there isn’t one and we’re nearly weightless up here anyway.”
She looked around and said nothing.
“You’re wondering why I brought you here,” he said. “And I’ll be forthright with you. It’s not good news.” He took a moment and sighed. “Essentially you were terminated about half an hour ago.”
“What!”
Fareed held a hand. “Now, before you get angry and say something you might regret, hear me out. You are not terminated. The executive team met, and I fought for you.”
“Wait. I’m not fired?”
“You were. I talked them into keeping you on, though not with your old job. That was out of the question. You’re getting a new assignment.”
“Why was I terminated in the first place?” But as soon as she asked the question she knew the answer. Ukko. She had turned him down an hour ago, and Ukko had wasted no time getting a holo to whomever he owned in the agency.
“Does Ukko Jukes own Director Gardona?” asked Imala. “Is that what this is?”
“Careful what you say, Imala. These walls are thin. There were several legitimate reasons for your termination.”
She folded her arms, furious. “Such as?”
“You pretended to be a journalist and lied to a fellow employee, violating the agency’s code of ethics.”
Imala threw a hand up. “I lied to a secretary. And I did it in the interest of the agency. Gardona wouldn’t see me otherwise.”
“You also snooped around agency files for which you had no authorization to access.”
“I was conducting an investigation into illegal practices. I couldn’t exactly go to Seabright and ask to see his files.”
“There are channels to follow for this kind of thing, Imala. You skipped them all and played sheriff.”
She couldn’t believe this. Here she had done what no one else in the agency had the courage to do-and maybe even the brains to do-and they were vilifying her.
“Whom was I supposed to go to?” she asked. “Pendergrass? Because I did go to him. He blew me off.”
Fareed seemed surprised. “When was this?”
“A month ago.”
“Do you any have documentation of this? E-mails? Holos?”
She tried to remember. “No. I pulled him aside and showed him everything in person.”
Fareed was disappointed. He shrugged. “He’d probably only say he thought you were being zealous and admit he made a mistake.”
“That’s exactly what he said. Right before he led me outside and put me in a car with Ukko Jukes.”
Fareed was startled. “When?”
“An hour ago. That’s where I was at lunch.”
“I see.” Fareed went back behind his desk, paced a moment, then turned to her. “I can’t get you your old job back, Imala. Even knowing that you went to Pendergrass. The executive team was adamant.”
“Of course they were. Ukko Jukes has them in his pocket. They’re trying to shut me up and make the whole scandal with Seabright go away.”
“It already is going away,” said Fareed. “Jukes has agreed to pay all the back taxes and tariffs as well all fees and fines. Both the agency and Jukes will conduct separate internal investigations, and that will be the end of it.”
“Tell me you’re joking. We should be taking this to prosecutors.”
Fareed shook his head. “Not going to happen, Imala. They’re going to bury it.”
“Then I’ll go to the press. I’ll tell whomever will listen.”
“No one will listen, Imala. There are influences here much greater than you realize.”
He was telling her that Ukko owned the media as well; that anything she did would be squashed by Jukes. Unbelievable. They were letting this man bully them. Even Fareed-who seemed like a decent enough guy and who probably didn’t take a dime from Ukko-was stuck under Ukko’s thumb simply because he was in a system Ukko controlled.
“I got you on at Customs,” said Fareed. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s working with people, which you need.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a little rough around the edges, Imala. You haven’t made any friends since you came here. You despise everyone. This could be good for you.”
“I don’t despise everyone.”
“Name one person in your department with whom you have a friendship.”
“They all kiss up to Pendergrass. They don’t care about the work. They make constant mistakes.”
“How would you know they make mistakes?”
“Because I’ve checked their work. It’s sloppy.”
“Yes, and I’m sure they greatly appreciate you, a junior assistant, combing their work for mistakes.”
“Pendergrass sure isn’t going to do it.”
Fareed sighed. “You’re done, Imala. I stuck my neck out for you when the guys upstairs were ready to put you on a shuttle back to Earth. You can at least pretend to act grateful and take this job. Who knows? In a few years, I might be able to help you get on with a private firm.”
Imala wasn’t sure if she should punch the wall or cry. A few years? He might help her in few years? This was his gift to her? This was him pulling a favor? She wanted to tell him no. She wanted to shut him down the same way she had rejected Ukko. But what good would that do her? The moment your work permit was tagged as terminated, you were gone. If she walked out of here without a job, she’d be shipped to Earth no questions asked. And then what? Back to Arizona to face her father and tell him how right he had been? No, she couldn’t do that.
“What would I be auditing at Customs?” she asked.
“You won’t be auditing. You’d be a caseworker.”
“A caseworker? I’m not trained for that.”
“Show them how smart and nice you are, Imala, and I’m sure they’ll give you more responsibility.”
He handed her a data drive.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Your first case. A free miner who came in a week ago from the Kuiper Belt on a quickship. No identification. No docking authorizations. Deal with it.”
“How? I don’t know what to do with this.”
“You know customs law, Imala. You know the regulations. The rest is paperwork. If you smile occasionally, you might actually be good at this.”