Free Code of Conduct by Kristine Smith

Jani Kilian and Hansen Wyle had been the most favored of all.
    Not that she recalled any envy. If anything, her fellow documents trainees had been happy to allow her and Hansen the bulk of Nema’s attention. And of his plotting. Grim Death with a Deal for You , Jani had dubbed him, much to Hansen’s delight. But he had been theirs to laugh at. After all he’d put them through, they’d felt entitled.
    And now he’s back . And still causing trouble, according to Evan. If all you think he’s interested in is the occasional joyride, have I got news for you .
    She cracked a file seal and glanced down the table of contents of an Interior budget report, then scanned the file. Her ’pack worked without a hitch, as it had since the day she’d received it. “Anytime you want to compare equipment, Mr. Ridgeway, you just say the word.” With that, Two of Six, the Eyes and Ears, set to work.

 
    By the time the patient arrived on Earth, she had already entered the acute phase of the condition. This phase, which is characterized by physical malaise and extreme neurochemical imbalances, played itself out over the seventy-two-hour period predicted during lab trials .

    â€” Internal Communication, Neoclona/Seattle, Shroud J., Parini, V., concerning Patient S-1

CHAPTER 5
    â€œDo you have anything to declare, madam?”
    Jani edged away from the half-opened door, which led to the Customs check-in booths reserved for “personal interviews,” and left the young Commerce staffer and her husband, both sweaty and shaken, to their fates. They know you’re smuggling something, dears—may as well give it up . Once a Customs inspector began addressing you formally, all bets were off.
    My guess is collectibles or jewelry . Jani had followed the couple since they’d docked at Luna. Well dressed and parcelladen, they had shunned the bullet cars that would have taken them to the shuttle docks’ VIP section in minutes, preferring instead the hike through two kilometers of walkways.
    Jani had followed them, curiosity egging her on even as fatigue set in, aggravating her limp. She watched them shift packages and whisper frantically, and waited out their frequent restroom stops, stifling the urge to sneak up behind them and shout, “ Boo !” Instead, she’d trailed them into the deceptively comforting confines of the lounge, and waited.
    Within minutes, a Treasury Customs official, dark gold uniform making him look like a tarnished elf, interrupted the pair’s exploration of the buffet and led them away.
    The restroom stops tipped Customs off . Scancams lined the public walkways of shuttle stations, but they were unobtrusive and easily ignored by fatigued travelers now a mere five-hour hop from home. Amateurs. Like any game,smuggling had its rules. You followed them, or you paid the penalty.
    She cut down the short hallway and entered the spacious lounge. Collecting a cup of tea and a sandwich from the extravagant buffet, she searched for a seat near the wall-spanning window. In the distance, the Lunar shipyards gleamed in the unfiltered sunlight with molten force, drawing the attention of most of the waiting passengers as construction sites always did.
    Jani settled into a recently vacated chair, the documents case between her feet, duffel in her lap. Residual stranger-warmth soaked into her lower back. She took a bite of her sandwich, some sort of smoked fish with herbed mayonnaise. Good, but Lucien could have done better .
    Lucien. Pascal. Her excellent steward’s real name. After several more failed attempts to bug Jani’s cabin, followed by futile efforts to gain access to her duffel and documents case, he had proposed a truce, which she had accepted. Life aboard the Arapaho became more conventional after that, though no less interesting. Watching Lucien operate within the strict hierarchy of the Cabinet ship’s Service crew had proven educational. He