"You may take it as a hell no and you can shove it up that wrinkly white butt of yours. You're not buying me off."
His expression remained impassive. "You're making a mistake, Imala. I am offering you an opportunity here."
"You're removing me from the investigation," she said. "You're mopping up. Make me go away, and your stooges in the LTD make the whole investigation go away. Tell me if I'm getting warm here."
Ukko flicked his wrist, and the car pulled to the curb. Imala's door opened.
"Enjoy your lunch, Imala. I hope you'll show more respect the next time someone merely offers you what you deserve."
She started to get out.
"And one more thing," said Ukko. "A bit of unsolicited advice. Get to know people before you write them off as black-hearted scoundrels. You're a quick judge of character, Imala. And you're not always right."
She got out. The door closed. The car zipped back into traffic and disappeared.
She looked around her. She was in the French Quarter, an upscale part of town with quaint shops selling chocolates and perfumes and ridiculously priced clothing. Every street in the city was covered with shielded domes that protected against solar radiation and that kept in air and heat, but only in the French Quarter were the dome ceilings painted the light blue color of Earth sky with the occasional white of fluffy clouds. Imala hated it. It was like everyone she worked with at the LTD. Fake and phony.
Across the street was a restaurant. Pendergrass and his dimwit vixen were sitting at a table outside, eating pasta through semi-sealed containers. Imala must have been doing circles with Ukko if Pendergrass had beaten her here. He saw her, smiled, and waved at her to come join them. Imala turned on her heels and began walking back toward the office, ignoring him. If she crossed the street and approached Pendergrass she was fairly certain she'd grab his pasta and smear it in his face.
*
It took Imala well over an hour to get back to the LTD, and that was after removing her greaves and taking big moon leaps down the sidewalk in the lesser gravity. She got contemptuous looks from people since moonwalking was unfashionable in the French Quarter, but Imala didn't care. It's the Moon, people. Get over it.
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."