Bobbie crept around the corner towards Chrisjen’s office stalking her prey. She was so focused on her mission she didn’t notice she had picked up a shadow of her own.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Bobbie thought she did extremely well not to jump two feet in the air and turned in what she hoped was a casual manner towards Avasarala’s chief of security.
“I’m investigating something.” she admitted reluctantly.
Cotyar leaned casually against the wall. “What are you investigating? A mystery perhaps?”
“It’s not so much a what as a who.”
“So you’re…” he trailed off expectantly.
Bobbie glared. “I’m spying. Happy?”
Cotyar’s face split into a grin. “I’d be thrilled, Marine, but you’re doing a terrible job.”
“Not all of us have ‘Espionage’ as a middle name.”
“Uh-huh. Does Avasarala know?”
“That you suspect someone on the Martian Ambassador’s staff of needing to be watched?”
“And you don’t think she trusts your judgement enough to have taken the necessary steps?”
Bobbie dropped her eyes sheepishly. “I’d just feel better—”
“Stepping on the toes of those of us who actually know what we’re doing,” he finished. He shook his head ruefully. “Alright. The first rule of spy craft is that you don’t—”
The door Bobbie had been watching swung open and with a muttered “shit” she bodily shoved Cotyar through the nearest unlocked door. It clicked closed behind them and Bobbie pressed her ear against the imitation wood grain.
Cotyar reached carefully around her and turned on the lights. His expression was unreadable.
“…don’t get caught?” she ventured.
“No. The first rule of spy craft is that you don’t act like you’re spying. That means no skulking about in trench coats and dark glasses—”
“I’m not wearing a trench coat or—”
“And,” he continued talking over her. “No ducking around corners or into closets to avoid being seen.” He gestured at the cramped storage room they were in. “The best way to divert suspicion is to act like you belong there. No one looks twice at a Marine on duty. Everyone looks at the Marine trying not to be seen. Got it?”
She nodded. “Okay. What now? Do we go back out there?”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Bobbie tried the knob and froze. “Ummm. It’s locked.”
Cotyar rattled the knob. It didn’t turn. He blew out a breath. “Rule number two: Stay aware of your surroundings.”
“I don’t suppose you know what time the cleaning crew’s shift starts.”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Cotyar frowned. “I hope you don’t have an issue with tight spaces.”
“I practically live in a metal suit barely bigger than me,” Bobbie shot back.
The spy settled his back against a container, his relaxation completely incongruous with their situation. “Well, it could be worse.”
“I guess. No one’s bleeding. Yet.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you—?” The door swung open and Bobbie felt herself flush in embarrassment. “It’s worse.”
“The entire system is in shambles, quit fucking around in the closet. There’s work to do.” Avasarala turned on her heel and Bobbie caught the door before it could swing shut again.
