Definitely corporate.

  Instead of stopping in front of the counter, my escort walked me to one end, taking me through a grey, metal gate and up to one of the doors. Here, he let go of my stomach, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck, and pressing my face against the wall.

  “Don’t make me shoot you.”

  Like I’d ever.

  I’m not sure what passed between him and the four people I’d seen warming the space behind the counter, but the door opened, and he steered me through, the gun-barrel pressure disappearing from my back as soon as the door had closed behind me. The arm around my shoulders was not an improvement, but I let it stay there, as he guided me down the hall.

  We stopped at the elevators, and apprehension shivered through me. Ground floor, I could have handled, but basement scared nine kinds of Hell out of me. Bad things happened underground.

  I didn’t feel any happier, when the doors opened and he asked the ride to take us up thirty levels. All I could think was that it would be a hell of a long way to fall.

  When the lift stopped, and the doors parted to reveal an expansive lounge ending in ceiling-high windows, I froze. Unfortunately, my escort didn’t approve. His arm wrapped more tightly around my shoulders, and he pulled me forward.

  It was only when he turned to walk parallel to the windows that I started to relax.

  There was a balcony outside those windows, even if I hadn’t yet had time to spot the way out onto it. I didn’t want to know, and I didn’t want to enjoy the view before being tossed over the edge.

  Who knew if they’d even stop to decide I was guilty?

  We walked along the wall closest to the elevators, to a point where the lounge ended, and a corridor led away from it, and then we stepped through a set of dark double doors, into a dark-paneled hall. This room had no windows, but it did have a counter behind a double thickness of glass reinforced by bars.

  “From the bus,” my escort said, and I at least I could be sure I’d met the company responsible for the network’s security.

  The man behind the counter looked me up and down, before stretching out a hand.

  “Papers,” he said, and I realized I was still clutching my newly acquired identification pack.

  I glanced up at the man beside me, the first chance I’d had to take a look at his face. I hadn’t missed much. It wasn’t quite a face that only a mother could love, but it was close.

  “Lothoran’s Fever,” he said, and I knew he meant the scarring and pitting on his skin, guessed he’d seen my expression before. “Hand them over.”

  So, I did, and a door opened to one side of the room. It led to a cubicle as big as the foyer we’d stepped out of, a space not much more than five-feet square.

  “Strip.”

  Again, I glanced into his face, and, again, I got nothing from it, neither anticipation, nor lechery, nor threat, just implacability. I’d seen that kind of expression, before, and knew better than to argue with it.

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  What can I say? I turned my back on him, and I stripped, and then I stayed turned away, because I didn’t like him staring.

  “Put your hands on your head, and turn around.”

  I put my hands on my head, and very slowly turned, feeling the color rise to my cheeks. This wasn’t exactly how I’d been hoping to spend my first night on Depredides. We stared at each other for a minute, and then he took a pair of gloves out of his pocket.

  “I’m going to search you,” he said. “Nothing more.”

  It took me a minute to understand what he meant, and he waited, letting me process it. I’m guessing this wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Taking a deep breath, I pressed my lips together, and nodded.

  “Keep your hands on your head until I say otherwise.”

  I picked a point on the wall behind him, and complied.

  He was quick, and efficient, and kept things as impersonal as is possible in a search that thorough.

  “Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” he said, when he’d disposed of his gloves, and I followed his directions, not resisting when he pulled my hands behind my back, and cuffed them there.

  It surprised me when he pressed a button and opened a door on the other side of the room.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  I glanced around the cubicle, thought about just standing there until the other door opened, and knew that was never going to happen. I thought about collecting my clothes, too, but they’d gone in the same direction as the gloves, so I was shit out of luck.

  With a sigh, I followed him.

  He gave a snort of something akin to amusement, but kept walking.

  “It’s not that bad,” he said, reaching the end of the corridor and turning right, before stopping to open a door, three rooms down.

  It was almost comforting, and I stepped into the next room without argument. What he added next took all sense of comfort away.

  “Not yet.”

  I spun towards him, as he spoke, and he grabbed my arm, high and hard, on the bicep, propelling me into the centre of the room. Again, there was a complete absence of windows. It was almost like being on a ship, again.

  “Who are you?” I managed to ask, but he did not answer.

  “Turn,” he said, letting go of my arm.

  And this time I defied him. I grounded my feet, and faced him.

  “Who are you people?”

  The look of bland patience never left his face.

  “Turn.”

  I returned his patience, with some of my own, and didn’t move an inch. He sighed.

  “Fine.”

  The fist to my gut knocked the wind from me, and I doubled over. A leg sweep took my feet out from under me, and he settled on my back, undoing the cuffs as soon as he had me pinned. He didn’t say a word, through the entire process, not even when he was done and had returned to his feet, then he reached down to lift me to mine, before I could get my breath back.

  I coughed, sucking air, and backing up as he used his grip to push me against a wall.

  A panel slid aside, and a man and a woman in tailored, grey uniforms stepped into the room. The woman came to stand in front of me, studying me carefully, and the man set about opening various compartments to reveal computer panels, and diagnostic equipment. I looked from the woman to her companion, and then back to my escort.

  She followed my gaze.

  “You terrify them every time,” she scolded.

  “Some of them need it,” he said, directing a meaningful glare in my direction.

  I rolled my eyes, and then let my gaze follow the gray-suited man as he left the room. He disappeared for a moment, before coming back, pushing a gurney.

  I stiffened, and would have reversed away from it, except I already had my back to a wall.

  “See?”

  My companion’s voice brought my attention back to him, and the woman in front of me. She frowned and tutted, and finally addressed me.

  “We’re here to inspect your implant, dearie.”

  Dearie? I thought, but she wasn’t waiting for my protest.

  “We’ll do a full diagnostic run, check for content, and duplicate your files.”

  My eyes widened, and I shook my head.

  Her frown grew deeper.

  “But I’m afraid we must,” she insisted. “There’s nothing to fear.”

  My mouth went very dry, and I had to swallow a couple of times, before I could moisten my lips.

  “They’ll find me,” I said, and immediately cursed the revelation.

  The grip on my arm tightened, and the woman’s face took on an expression of polite curiosity.

  I wondered how long it would stay polite, as her companion locked the gurney down, and went to close the door through which he’d brought it. Not knowing how much time they’d give me, I hurried to explain.

  “I locked them out. If you tamper with the links, they’ll get in, and they’ll be able to find me.”

  “How about we just do the duplication, and leave the links alone?”