Which, it turned out, wasn’t hard at all, thanks to Modal. Over the last few years, he’d collected a wide variety of fake identities—including names, histories, and even SINs—for both males and females of almost all the major metahuman races. Presumably he’d had a thriving business selling these to runners and others who found their real identities something of a liability. As soon as she mentioned the problem, the black elf had produced a credstick for each of them, carrying all the data necessary for an almost watertight cover. He didn’t say where he got them, and she didn’t ask.