'One rule of hacking - never be in the direct vicinity of the mainframe and always be in full view of others while you take the system apart.' The espionage trainer's advice echoed in my head.
My thumb rubbed the two droids, disguised as a ring on my middle finger.
Remote access gained through them, leaving a coded back door on an encrypted trans-dimensional spatial dissonance frequency which only the Kamuy military personnel knew about.
To my knowledge, none of the spacefaring species applied trans-dimensional technology.
The spatial dissonance frequency seemed empty enough to make such an assumption. My droids would detect if another user got on.
Too bad, the restrictions of the spatial dissonance frequency limited me to a small radius of The Durgema and the surrounding five buildings around it.
Our Kamuy cybernetic technology allowed me to hack remotely within a secured neural link. Acting was never my best skill, even if required to cover my tracks, but all the old training skills needed to kick in.
I left the Durgian information nucleus, excusing myself for a dinner reservation at The Durgema's renowned restaurant 'Shakkal' on the 44th floor.
Shakkal meant the illusion of time in the Durgian language. The Durgians created this restaurant to bring on the feeling of travelling back to the nostalgic times of the pre-spacefaring periods which most civilisations experienced.
The entire place decked with decadent top-of-the-line old interior, reminiscent of pre-spacefaring days, created a novelty for the diners with enough resources to pay through their nose.
Instead of bots, actual waiters delivered the over-decorated food to the tables.
A pleasant aroma of fresh but overpriced cuisine wafted in the air. My tastebuds might as well enjoy harvested food instead of the tasteless tubes of processed nutrition on my ship.
The clattering of silverware on the finest porcelain dishes and murmurs of trade or refined gossip regarding politics filled the busy restaurant.
Under the glittering diamond laden chandeliers attached to the high ceiling, and red Dongtian silk banners, the wealthy Eden clientele congregated around the tables neatly arranged in the open dining area.
Not only was it surrounded by luxurious extravagance of art works and rare historical artifacts, the whole place overflowed with spying devices discreetly, of course, to the maximum.
I could hear the high pitch buzzing noises of those damn devices thanks to my cochlear implants. That's why I called them bugs after the buzzing insects on most planetary surfaces.
Every table and chair had a few attached bugs of different species' technology in place. In my vision, the optical implants identified every piece of furniture by lighting them up.
Even the chair I sat on. Underneath, someone attached a spying bug.
Obviously, I was not the target.
The female Velesian who sat at the table across from me kept glancing at my chair. She averted her gaze when I glanced at her and continued sipping her wine, which probably cost as much as my budget for this shopping trip.
She wore an unmistakable disappointed look on her face, which made me wonder why.
One of her five male companions, the two Haoleans and three Satesians, was the object of her target. Or maybe all. All of them looked too expensive in their customised clothes and accessories to belong to the working-class residents of Eden.
Everything about the Velesian female appeared superficial - the gloved hands, the perfectly coiffed hair, her fake smile and the bangle, which was a listening bug. Even her horns looked more glued on than natural.
I wasn't sure if she was even Velesian. Nothing looked natural on her.
If I was not wrong, she may be a commercial spy, using her looks to seduce the five males who bantered over business.
I noticed how she stayed silent while they spoke about some mega-corporation business, as though listening in.
"Sir, your bottle of Kuran wine," the Durgian waiter interrupted my thoughts and presented me with the bottle for inspection. "Would you like a taste sampler?"
Kuran wine, grown in Prawia, Perunian territory, was renowned for its rarity because of the icy conditions of their home world. Sweet and mellow, a bottle cost at least 400n aurum.
Before I could say a word, trouble appeared in the form of Zhiva approaching me.
His attire looked different, and the twinkle in his icy blue eyes sent shivers down my back. The tailored suit he wore the blue and white colors of the Perunian elite, and on his feet were polished black boots.
What is he up to?
"Well, well, isn't it by the fate of Perun?" He greeted me with a bow as the waiter politely stood aside.
Perun's fate, my ass. Just avoiding this annoying brat seems almost impossible in The Durgema.
Zhiva sat down on the chair opposite me without an invitation and glanced at the bottle held by the waiter's hand.
"Kuran? Which galactic year?" He asked the hapless waiter.
"9012.4 Galactic cycle."
"Get the 9010. Put it on my father's tab," Zhiva said.
Great. His father is here too.
Sure, make my life more interesting.
The waiter turned pale and stammered, "s-sir, I-I c-can't do that w-without t-t-the p-permission of the General."
"Oh? He's there," Zhiva spoke nonchalantly, pointing his index finger at a distant large corner table, a few tables away. Eight officers and General Perkuna, who bore a close resemblance to his son, sat there.
Two of them accompanied Zhiva when I first met him. Instead of looking like a bunch of space pirates, his two former companions preened themselves enough to look respectable.
General Perkuna seemed to notice us by the way he sat up straight to stare at me.
Nothing felt friendly about his stare.
More of a certain hostility. Both father and son had unresolved issues, but I wasn't going to let them ruin my mood.
I lifted my hand to stop the waiter from leaving. "I'll taste this one."
The waiter gratefully opened the bottle and poured a small portion into my wine glass. I swirled the glass to enhance the smell of the Kuran wine before taking a sip.
I nodded my head, and the waiter left the bottle on the table, beating a hasty retreat before Zhiva said anything.
"Don't put my tab on your father's. I won't be impressed," I told Zhiva.
Zhiva pouted like a wronged child, but his presence obstructed my plans to hack into the Durgian information nucleus.
Best not to attract the attention of a high ranking delegate, like General Perkuna. His space pirate curse of a son was more than I could handle.
I caught a sudden whiff of the Velesian woman's perfume when she walked past. My attention turned to her odd behavior. Her hands trembled, but she wasn't drunk by the way she walked.
My instincts screamed danger, but what danger can she pose?
My optical implants didn't detect any weapon on her unless she was planning on using cutlery.
Zhiva distracted me from her by waving his hand in front of me. He leaned forward on his elbow and asked me with utter shamelessness, "Are you inviting me for this late dinner, then?"
I wished I could tell him about the spying bugs surrounding us. Someone could easily misconstrue talking to him as an association with a space pirate.
I sighed, resigned to my fate of being tagged as guilty by association.
Too late to do anything about Zhiva now.
"No. Go back to your father."
"I refuse." He shook his head adamantly.
"Then go away."
"You hurt my feelings. Besides, I thought you might feel lonely." He rapped his knuckles on the table.
"I enjoy being lonely."
Zhiva snapped his finger flamboyantly in the air. "Menu!"
Damn, this irritating, sticky Perunian won't take a big hint.
I rolled my eyes, irate at Zhiva's persistence as another waiter came scurrying at his command with the antique looking leather bounded menu.
[Warning: Disruptor lock on frequency detected in the surrounding vicinity]
[Warning: unable to establish lock]
The warnings of the optical implants flashed across my vision, forcing me to look around as discreetly as I could, while Zhiva perused the menu, muttering some nonsense about the food.