Trickster by Steven Harper

logged in yet and would know something was up.
      "Nuh uh." She held up both hands, partly to indicate negation and partly to block his view of her screen. "Company policy. If I get help from someone who isn't a Compulink employee, the union will have conniptions."
      "Funny," Mays frowned. "I've helped Compulink people before."
      "New policy." Gretchen rolled her eyes. "You know how bureaucrats and bean counters get."
      "Around here everyone's a bean counter," Mays said with a grin. At Gretchen's blank look, he added, "Cocoa beans?"
      Gretchen forced a laugh, though she was ready to bolt for the door. "Guess I'm not very quick on the uptake today." She blew a gum bubble to cover the pounding of her heart. What the hell was taking Ben's program so long? "I better see what trouble I can get into on your network, then."
      She turned back to her terminal, pretending to work but actually holding her breath. Mays didn't come up behind her. After a moment, she snuck another peek. His attention was back on his work.
      At last--at last-- the pad flashed. The holographic screen on the terminal flickered and Gretchen found she had root access.
      "Got it," she murmured. "And next time you should be doing this, Benny-boy."
      " I would have ," Ben said in her ear, " except I'm the only one who knows how to tap the communication system and reroute Markovi's calls. Okay, here's what you do next ."
      As Ben spoke, printed instructions scrolled across the bottom of Gretchen's eye--her ocular implant at work. She did as instructed, accessing the section of the mainframe that oversaw the farm's automated equipment and uploading a single program. Then she downloaded several files of information and she reached into her toolbox to check the copycat.
      Frequencies copied , said the screen. Gretchen switched it off, wiped Ben's hacking program from her pad in case she was caught, logged off the mainframe, and closed her toolbox.
      "Both jobs are done," she muttered to Ben. "I'm on my way out."
      " Great job, " he said. " I'll tell Kendi ."
      "You're all set," Gretchen announced to Mays and held her pad out to him. "Be a pal and thumb this service acknowledgment, would you? The company doesn't care who thumbs the thing, and I don't want to track down that guy Markovi again."
      "Sure thing." Mays pressed his thumb to Gretchen's pad and his hand brushed hers. "It's about lunch time," he added, looking straight into her eyes. "You want to catch a bite or something?"
      Oh brother , Gretchen thought. Ah well. At least he isn't one of the grabby ones . Gretchen smiled at him with a demure shake of her head. "I have two more calls to make before I can break. Maybe another time."
      "Yeah, sure." Mays turned back to his computer with an air of "nothing ventured, nothing gained" and Gretchen let herself out of the room, heart pounding again. A few moments later, she was back in her groundcar and winding her way back to the entry gate. Slaves continued their work among the cacao trees, and Gretchen wondered if one of them was Bedj-ka. A grubby boy who was loading a gravity sled with seed pods paused in his labor long enough to wipe the sweat from his face. Gretchen found her appetite for chocolate had disappeared. At last she reached the entry gate.
      The dashboard computer chimed and Gretchen jumped, certain she had been discovered.
      "Thank you," chirped the computer, "for visiting Sunnytree Farms."
      Gretchen slapped the screen to shut it off and sped back toward the city. Once she was a safe distance away, however, she pulled onto an empty side road and peeled the Compulink sign off both car doors. She tapped one corner of each sign, and both promptly erased themselves. This procedure she repeated with her Compulink holobadge. It vanished, leaving behind a blank chip. Then Gretchen skinned out of her jumpsuit, revealing ordinary shirt and trousers, and sprayed the cloth with the contents of a small flask. The jumpsuit