Social media was a tool the Ingénue were not supposed to be aware of. Rissa, though, was not like the others. They obeyed and she devised. She could see the data in the back of her mind as if viewing it on a monitor, so she used it to her advantage. As quickly as possible, she found every site dedicated to the Legion and left a brief message. Each one was unique, but they were allvariants of the same. She prayed for the well-being of the church, hoping the priests and all those who'd been close to Benedict would have the peace to mourn and receive solace from their solitude.
She signed them all the same way: Princess.
Working her way back through security, Rissa nudged the firewall. When she was almost back in her head, she poked the internal security. Finally free from the web, with no way to trace her passage, she executed her plan. A surge of data struck her sixth port, the weakest one she had, activating her internal protections. Her nervous system shut down the sensation before her body could be harmed, operating exactly as it was designed.
In the space outside her care bay, an alert sounded. She smiled, her eyes still closed, knowing she would be undergoing repairs by morning. They could monitor and track her all they wanted. She was smarter than all of them combined. These people had designed her to solve the most complex problems, and she was up to the task. They just weren't the same problems OutLink wanted.
Because Sin wasn't the only one who could take care of others. Benedict had made it clear she could too, and she owed it to the man to carry out his dying wish.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Things didn't slow down until that evening. At some point, Benedict had passed away, creating a flurry of activity. In truth, that was the only reason Sin could keep going. As long as he had a list of things to do, he wouldn't break down. Not yet.
The Praetor's body had been moved to the Legion for preparation. The Conclave had been summoned. Benedict's quarters were now being emptied, but Sin had already cleared out the safe. Just like Benedict had asked, he'd taken everything, returning to his apartment to sort it all out. To do that, he needed help, so he'd left a message at the bar for Trent to come over. Now, the man was standing inside his door, but Sin was still busy.
Holding one finger in the air, Sin begged his friend to wait. "Yeah," he said, knowing it looked like he was speaking to himself. "No, I understand completely. Actually, the timing works out. Yes. Yes. Yes, I will be in the Conclave. Yes, we will announce a new Praetor after the funeral. Thank you. Yes. May God bless you. Uh-huh. Yes. Thank you. Bye." He pressed the spot beside his ear and looked up. "Sorry, Trent, that was OutLink."
"They're calling you at home now?" Trent asked.
Sin rocked his head in neither a yes nor a no. "Work. My number's on file."
Trent walked over and grabbed the remote, pointing it at the holoscreen. "Yeah. Speaking of that... So, I was helpingJulie and Thomas with social media a few hours ago. There've been countless supportive comments, a few of the typical rude ones, and this." He scrolled through a list, clicking to enlarge a selected remark.
May he fly with angels. Let us not forget that in this time of sorrow, those who knew the Praetor best will be those who hurt the most. I, for one, will respect their need for mourning. May God watch over them all. —Princess
Sin took a long, deep breath and lowered himself into the chair. "You sure it's her?"
Trent chuckled. "Nope. But someone called Princess has said about the same thing on every site I know of, including your three most popular fan sites." He dropped the remote and headed to the fridge, pulling out a pair of sodas. "Why Princess? Wouldn't Rissa be safer?"
"No," Sin said, accepting the Coke. "Princess is generic enough to go unnoticed, and it's what I call her. Doesn't raise any eyebrows at OutLink, and it kinda fits. I also think she likes it."
Trent huffed at that. "Yeah, well, seems like she wanted you to get her message."
Sin tapped the side of his head. "That call was OutLink telling me she had a system failure and will require repairs. She didn't want me to worry." He smiled and gestured at the screen. "That's her way of telling me it was an intentional issue. She made sure I'm not required to babysit during the standard mourning period."
"Damn," Trent muttered. "She's good."
"She's amazing." Sin tilted up the bottle, sucking back a long drink. "They're all smart, you know. I mean, they were enhanced to be, but Rissa's different. She's not locked into a box like the rest of them. She looks at a problem from all sides, in three dimensions, plus time and space, before answering."
"And everything's a problem to her, huh?"
"Yeah," Sin agreed. "It's all she has." He sighed and took another drink. "Thing is, I wish I could talk to her right now. This shit doesn't make sense."
"Well, Benedict knew something."
"Yeah, and a fucking priestattackedme," Sin pointed out. "Well, Rissa, but he knew I was there."
Trent grunted and reached for the crate taken from the Praetor's office. "What's this shit?"
Sinclair had managed to empty the safe, but he'd never gotten the chance to ask about any of it. "Some of this is pretty obvious," Sin said. "I mean, records of the finances, stacks of dime drives, and just basic information. Some of it," and he held up a small velvet box, "makes me wonder how long he knew."
Carefully opening the lid, Sin exposed a large gold ring pillowed in soft foam. The insignia was etched precisely. The stone was made to serve as a seal. They both knew it well; they'd kissed it countless times.
"How'd you get that?" Trent asked.
"It was in the safe."
Trent made no move to touch the ring. "So, what was on his hand?"
