"
I knew that 'family friend' gambit wasn't going to work!" Daiya said to her comrade-in-crime once they were through the consulate doors. She had to resist the urge to tug at the irritation on her face, the sensation reminding her of the mole facsimile that was new to her lower cheek. It wasn't just makeup found at some costume or joke shop, but the handiwork of the ripperdoc to her side. Having seen it earlier in the mirror, the young infiltrator had to admit that Cassus Akovin did fantastic cosmetic work.
She had to stop thinking about it every five seconds, or she was going to make it worse somehow. There was a job to do inside the consulate, and it involved getting deeper than just past the door's security. At first, Daiya thought Cassus had been drunk when he came to her with the details of the job, acquired somehow through rumor and conjecture. Crazy fucking Russian. Only she didn't dare say that to the guy, lest he correct her again about being Ukrainian, like the difference mattered when his drunken accent was all New York. Her eyes glanced over to the ripperdoc, practically gliding in all his glory along the halls of the Soviet embassy.
It twisted her stomach somehow to see the stark neo-constructivist architecture here in the middle of her neon-steeped home. Everywhere she turned was a reminder of how different, how
alien, the Soviet nature was to her more American, or Night Citizen, sensibilities. Daiya swallowed the disgust that rose in her throat, adding it to the pit in her stomach. There was no room for it amid the swelling of pride she should be feeling, the awe in her eyes drawn to the stylings of her fictional heritage, acting out the story of a prodigal daughter coming home to the motherland.
"
Добро пожаловать в консульство Союз Суверенных Советских Республик. Назовите цель вашего визита. /// Welcome to the consulate of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. State the purpose of your visit."
The man at the grand, circular desk in the middle of the consulate lobby wore his dark hair as business-like as his crisp uniform. She was less at ease under his disaffected gaze than under a surveillance camera, and wondered why the whole operation wasn't simply conducted by a bot in the first place. The cold, rote demeanor of the clerk might have given anyone else pause, but Daiya marched up to his tall counter to place her bag on top. From it she pulled out an assortment of personal objects, including lipstick and a compact, taking the moment of disarray to size up the clerk's demeanor. "
Да, здравствуйте, я здесь, чтобы получить паспорт. Меня зовут Светлана Скобсвена, я родилась здесь, в Найт-Сити, но мои родители русские. /// Yes, hello. I'm here to get a passport. My name is Svetlana Skobsvena, I was born here in Night City but my parents are Russian."
Her Russian was nowhere near as fluent as the ripperdoc's, so Daiya opted for the muddled backstory to explain it. She could relate, almost. There was no Little Detroit in Night City like there was Japantown or Little China, and the absence of a Little Moscow must have been a sore spot for the consulate workers looking for the comforts of home. If they showed it off-duty they certainly didn't now, the young infiltrator could barely spot a hair out of place on the clerk, who considered her request as barely more notable than a remark about weather.
"
Гражданство по рождению в СССР не передаётся автоматически, если родители не зарегистрировали вас при советском консульстве в течение года после рождения. /// Citizenship by birth in the USSR is not granted automatically unless your parents registered you with the Soviet consulate within a year of your birth." The clerk seemed to look at her, as if seeing her for the first time, with his full attention. It was more than his colleague nearby was doing. The other worker sat thirty degrees off center from the dead-eyed clerk, playing at work which didn't match the changes on their screen. Her stomach gave another little lurch, a tell that something was off about it. Security, perhaps, sitting in plain view where they could respond immediately to a threat, or track them from their first interactions with the consulate workers. "
У вас есть документы, подтверждающие ваш статус? /// Do you have documents confirming your status?"
This was what they paid their netrunner for, and as Daiya handed over the shard with the forged files on it, she hoped the eddies had been worth it. She picked up the compact and flipped it open, pulling at her cheek this way and that with the mole in the tiny mirror. It was really starting to become an obsession at this point. Her eyes did, at least, catch enough of the motions of the front desk to stay alert in case something went wrong. Her first clue would be if the fake worker turned around, and if that happened then she and Cassus would have one hell of a fight ahead of them to get out.
Nothing happened. Daiya's heart kept pounding through the clerk's response that she was grateful to still be holding the compact, snapping it shut with a bored look of annoyance. The kind that made her feel all her nineteen years hadn't really been that different from others in Night City. Now that she thought about it, the young infiltrator could have used a stick of gum to snack on about now. She turned just enough to take the shard back from the clerk, packing things away without letting him think she was giving him more attention this time around. "
Вы знаете, сколько это займет? Мой рейс запланирован на этот вечер, и я не могу его пропустить! /// Do you know how long this takes, my flight is booked for this evening and I can't miss it!"
Now she saw motion from the other side of the desk, but only the fake worker shaking a silent head. The clerk looked at her, dead eyes set again to ask, "
Такой тон в советском учреждении — не лучшая идея, товарищ Скобсвена. Вы думаете, что советская бюрократия работает по вашему расписанию? /// That tone is not the best idea in a Soviet institution, Comrade Skobsvena. Do you think Soviet bureaucracy operates on your schedule?"
It could be nice and do that for a change. Daiya didn't say it, and Soviet bureaucracy was furthest from her mind when she considered a response at all. She didn't need much of one as the last of her items clattered back into her bag, hearing the bored tones come back to her with all the snark of a Soviet bureaucrat. "
Если документы в порядке, ускоренная обработка возможна… за определённую услугу. /// If the documents are in order, expedited processing is possible… for a certain service."
Well, that didn't sound ominous at all.
"
Просто скажите, куда идти. /// Just tell me where to go." Even Daiya was feeling waylaid by the interaction at this counter. Hadn't Cassus mentioned there was someone else on this job as well? She shut her mouth to any more complaints that would earn her a further tongue-waggling. As much as any Soviet misanthrope could level at her, that is.
"
Поднимитесь на третий этаж, во вторую комнату слева, и ждите звонка. Если повезёт, уложитесь до вечера. Если нет… /// Go up to the third floor, second room on the left, and wait to be called. If you're lucky, you'll be done by the evening. If not…"
The clerk shrugged, as if it meant the world to him if she succeeded or not. And that counted as a success in her book, the young infiltrator could almost feel the relief in the air when she stepped away. The less he wanted to see her again, or think about her, the more time they would have for the real part of the job.
Stepping back over to Cassus, she tossed her head in the direction of the appointed room. Gripping his hand was for good measure, in case anyone doubted the story they had used to get inside in the first place. That gave her a chance to lean close to his ear and whisper, "
We should be clear for the elevator, security didn't even blink my way. Can I just say though, certain services? You Russians sure aren't that subtle."
Daiya could relax once they were in the elevator, and then the real work would begin.
