by Niranjan K
“You don’t appear to enjoy yourself,” Colin Blythe was at his elbow, his pale blue eyes fixed on his face.
“Nor do you,” he said, as he turned to face the man. Blythe was not unattractive, but George was not into men who fidgeted and who would not meet his eyes. Even if they weren’t straight, though he was starting to have doubts about Blythe. Besides, he wasn’t that desperate. The boredom was getting to him, but he had been through worse.
“I don’t,” Blythe sighed. “I didn’t like it when Aaron and Reyna got involved in it either, but...” He shrugged.
“And now they’re dead, and you’re here,” George said, looking at the man.
There was a story here. He could tell. That would explain the nervousness about Blythe, the way his eyes darted around the room, the way he was standing hunched, trying not to attract attention, the way he did not speak much, but kept listening. Did he regret his allegiance to the Resistance? Was he about to turn informer? George wanted that story. Of course, it was just possible that Blythe was an introvert with a nervous disposition, which wasn’t as interesting.
George had joined the Resistance because he had believed that the truth was important, that it shouldn’t be hidden, subverted, twisted or killed outright. He had become a reporter for much the same reasons, but the Resistance was, in its way, as secretive as the State. They had cause, he knew; it was a matter of survival, but he was bored of it. If survival was all that mattered, there was no need to be in the Resistance. What about freedom? What about truth? What about living without fear of speaking one’s mind?
“You seem quite attached to your employer,” Isabel Duran’s words caught his attention. “I’ve heard that Mr. Selwood is a shrewd, fiercely competitive businessman, and yet, you seem inordinately loyal to him.”
The room fell silent. Not that it was noisy before, but suddenly George could feel the silence.
Raul cleared his throat. “Darling,” he said. “You’re embarrassing our host.”
“She isn’t,” Martinez was white lipped, but his voice was level. “I am loyal to him, and the reasons are my own. I don’t see why anyone, you least of all Miss. Duran, should pry into them.”
She flushed, but shrugged, young enough to still consider a public apology as a loss of face.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” she said. “It was only an observation.”
“But I think you have a point,” Blythe spoke, startling everyone. “You say your reasons are your own, and they probably are, but you are part of something greater now, something for which people have given their lives. What if this loyalty of yours should cost more lives? Wouldn’t it become our concern then?”
“I’ve been part of this ‘greater cause’ of yours since I was a boy!” Martinez snapped. “I’ve lost everything I hold dear to it! So, don’t talk to me about lives lost! That is a risk we all accept when we become part of this. Just because I don’t like deceiving a man to whom I owe my livelihood is no reason for you people to question me in my own home!”
“No one is questioning you, Sergio,” Raul said soothingly, always the peacemaker. “Colin is just upset about his brother and his wife. It was a much publicised execution, you know, and even though it’s been a few years, people still recognise the name.”
“I’m sorry,” Blythe apologised. “It’s just...the anniversary of their deaths is tomorrow, and... well, it’s not a good time for me.”
Martinez placed a hand on Blythe’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said gently. “It is a hard thing to lose a brother, and even harder when he’s branded as a traitor just because he did what was right.”
Blythe nodded with a grimace, but remained silent. George stared hard at Martinez. Were empty platitudes all he had to offer? If he had lost people as he claimed, he should have been able to connect better to Blythe. He was more passionate when he was defending his loyalty to Selwood. Perhaps Martinez was not as straight as he thought. Perhaps there was something to the rumours that Martinez and Selwood were lovers. Unlikely, but possible.
Perhaps Martinez was just not capable of empathy. Some people were like that. They had morals and values, but no empathy or compassion, so they turned into self righteous judgemental pricks. It was possible Martinez was that way, and his defence of Selwood sprang from his genuine loyalty rather than because they had been lovers.
Members of the Resistance were careful about relationships, and no matter how loyal Martinez might be, it was doubtful he would have trusted Selwood to the extent of revealing his allegiances. There had never been any reports that Martinez had ever had any lovers, male or female, and Selwood had too many, both male and female.
Colin Blythe looked quite forlorn, and George remembered something.
“Wasn’t there a daughter?” he asked. “I mean, didn’t they have a daughter, your brother and his wife?”
Blythe fidgeted. “I don’t want to discuss my niece,” he said with a wary look on his face.
“Of course,” George smiled.
That was the story. He was certain of it. The daughter of the dead rebels. What happened to her? Unless her parents left an authorisation before they died, she would be a ward of the State if she was a minor. He took out his phone, disabled the hologram settings, and entered a search. There were not many details of the Blythes’ daughter, nor pictures, but it was mentioned that she was working as an assistant in a local lab at the time of her parents’ death. So, she was not a minor, but what happened to her? Did she blame the Resistance for what happened to her parents? Was there some sort of estrangement from the rest of her family? Was that why Blythe was so secretive? Perhaps he should visit Hafi and get the story, perhaps even find a pretext for meeting the girl.
He was also intrigued by Martinez’s attitude. What was he trying to hide? Selwood Corp was formed around 22 years ago, and Martinez had been with the company for 20 years. Yet, Raul had expressed his surprise that Selwood was younger than he had expected. There was also the fact that Alexander Selwood avoided the limelight like the plague. The man was never photographed, never attended any function where a photographer was likely to be present, all cameras were disabled within the premises of Selwood Corp, and photographers were strictly prohibited from all press conferences he attended. There were next to no videos of him in the public domain either.
It was all very mysterious, but it was a pattern of behaviour that George had come across many times in his research during his student days, a pattern followed by the Rogues, and yet, Martinez had laughed when he had suggested it. If Selwood was a Rogue, and Martinez knew, why should he even want hide it from them? Surely, the Resistance could use a Rogue. Most of the Rogues were in Cryo, but Selwood was obviously off the radar. Because of the fact that they were once Elite, a Rogue could be a real asset. Why was Martinez not seeing that?
George frowned. He had two potential stories here. While the Selwood angle was more risky and more rewarding, it was also the one that could defeat their ends since they needed Selwood at the moment. So, it would have to be Hafi and the Blythe girl. He just hoped it would prove more interesting than this gathering.
He moved towards Martinez.
“Isn’t it risky?” he asked softly. “This gathering? Isn’t your Sentient supposed to record everything and transmit to the State?”
“The Sentient is owned by the company, as is the house,” Martinez said, his voice equally low. “As such it isn’t required to record anything that happens here unless I ask it to.”
“And do you?” George asked.
“Sometimes,” Martinez shrugged. “Sometimes I forget. I’m an old man after all.”
Clever. The State wouldn’t get suspicious when Martinez did forget the recording and they wouldn’t pay much attention when he turned it on. After all, he was just an old man with an uninteresting job.
Twelve
The heat was unbearable, and the man who had come outside the small building for only a moment was drenched in sweat despite the specially made suit
that covered him like an armour and was supposed to moderate the effects of the sun. Lucas Hendriks thought he should be grateful to it for preventing him from being burnt too much.
The sun was hot enough to incinerate flesh in Ignis. That it hadn’t done so had to do both with the burn proof full body suits the people wore while out, and the habitat technology that enabled buildings to have regulated conditions inside of them. That had in its turn, helped people to live and work inside them as in the other planets.
The technology was used sparsely since neither the State nor any of the big companies was interested in Ignis, and the population of the other three planets was not yet high enough to warrant having to make Ignis habitable. There was also the question of food and water. Ignis had no natural water bodies due to its proximity to the sun, and therefore no food could be grown there. There were specially made habitat structures that were meant to grow plants, but everything from soil to water and fertilisers had to be flown in, and the costs for that was too high.
Which was why Raul’s invention was so important. Expensive as it was, it was still cheaper than manual transportation, because there was no limit to the quantity that could be transported through Nishati.
Lucas went back inside, where Amir Rahal and Joyce Liang were sitting in front of their media wall. Amir had modified the wall so that it showed more than just the news and ads broadcast by the media houses, but was linked to the State’s own monitoring system. They could monitor every open camera on the three planets plus the ones they had set up on Ignis. It had taken four years, and the combined geniuses of both Amir and Joyce, to set up the wall and the cameras that would not melt or otherwise malfunction in the heat of Ignis. They had managed it, however, and for almost a year now, they’d been able to be connected to the wider world, and to monitor who was coming to their facility. Granted, there were only a few cameras around the perimeter of the building, but they were necessary. Being part of the Resistance was bad enough, but being part of the Resistance and being scientists and inventors was worse.
“Did it work? You looked really uncomfortable out there,” Joyce said, without looking at him, her eyes still fixed on the monitor in front of her.
Lucas pulled off his suit and ran his hand through his hair that was thoroughly soaked from his sweat. “No, it didn’t work, and I need to wash my hair.”
“It’ll dry,” Amir said, swivelling around to look at him. “But you do look a bit bedraggled.”
Lucas took off his wet shirt, and dropped it on the floor. “I know.”
He focussed on the monitors that Joyce was looking at. He recognised the schematics of the suit he’d been wearing. She had been trying to miniaturise the habitat technology to fit into a bodysuit, but so far all her experiments had ffailed. Amir and he had been the initial test subjects, but after three months of testing, Amir had put his foot down and had refused to go out in the suit to test it. Lucas thought perhaps he should have refused her as well, but the fact was he needed the distraction. He’d been haunted by thoughts of his son from the day he left, and especially since he’d learned that Ruben was dead, but out there in the heat and the panic induced by it, he could forget Niek, even if only briefly.
“When is Raul arriving?” he asked, as he towelled his hair and torso dry and put on a new shirt.
“Tonight. They’re planning to have the test near Nges.” It was Joyce who answered, even as her hand swiped across the screen, and suddenly they had a 3D simulation of the suit standing in front of them. Lucas stepped back hastily. Joyce got up from her seat and slid into it, her long black hair, brushing against his shoulder as she did so. Her slanted eyes were furrowed and Lucas knew that any further efforts at drawing her into conversation would be wasted. He turned to Amir.
“Nges? But that area is unstable.”
“Which is what makes it perfect for this test, according to Alexander Selwood, and Raul concurs.” Amir said, and Lucas frowned. He could understand the reasoning, but Alexander Selwood was still an unknown entity.
“What do we have on Alexander Selwood?”
“Sergio vouches for him.” Amir said in a tone that implied that was all he needed. “There’s not much in the public domain, and nothing in the State’s files either. The company's founding twenty-two years ago is all the news we found. His climb was seemingly slow and the company had always kept a low profile. Selwood Corp is miles ahead of all its competitors, but they still keep a low profile, not doing anything for publicity, and the minimum on advertisements.”
“Then how?” Lucas was surprised.
“Search me!” Amir said. “Alexander Selwood is just as reclusive as his company. For all that, he has a reputation for being fiercely competitive, shrewd and ruthless. There are a few blurred images in the public domain, probably from surveillance cameras, and no videos.” He pulled up an image, and blurred was right. They couldn’t even tell if the man was a blonde or a brunette. “He’s careful to have his back to the cameras when he’s in public as also in other residences where the Sentients are likely to record images. Sergio says he won’t allow anyone to take a photo of him, not an employee, not a lover.”
“A Rogue then.”
Lucas was interested. He hadn’t heard of a former Elite with that name, but he was probably using a fake name. Not that he had any right to judge, since he wasn’t using his own name either.
“It would appear so, though Sergio swears he’s not, but if he’s not a Rogue, then he’s certainly had some unsavoury dealings with the State. Nothing else would explain his aversion to the limelight. I mean, look at all his competitors. Belton Corp and Priory Industries both need publicity just to survive, and yet his company...” Amir shook his head. “Makes sense that Sergio would want to work for them, and it’s lucky for us that the company is so low-profile, despite being the leader in both cryo and stasis tech and the leading supplier to the State.”
“Yes,” Lucas sat down on the chair Joyce had vacated, whom he could hear in the other side of the room, still in her simulation suit. She was muttering in her native language which she often did when she was agitated. “Did Raul send any message?”
“Apart from the details of their arrival and the test, nothing.” Amir’s black eyes had softened in sympathy. “He will bring news of your son. I’m certain of it.”
“I should never have left him,” Lucas sighed. “He was only a child. I should have at least explained things to him in person, maybe taken him to Ruben’s myself.... I can’t stop thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong. Ruben was already dead, and...” Lucas couldn’t continue.
“If you hadn’t left, you would have been in prison by now, or dead, and he would be a ward of the State.” Amir said gently. “If you had taken him to Ruben’s, you would have made them both targets as well. Your disappearance, and the thoroughness of it, is what would have kept Niek off their radar. You know that. Yes, Ruben was dead, and yes, it must have been quite upsetting for Niek, but you’ve seen the pictures. He looks fine. He’s safe and happy, and I’m sure he’s fine.”
“But what if I was wrong?” Lucas muttered. “What if I was just being paranoid? What if the Elite were not after me?”
“Even then, it was only a matter of time, according to Zain,” Amir said bracingly. “You did what you thought was best. I’m sure Raul will bring good news.”
Lucas sighed again. When did someone as young as Amir become so wise whereas he, who was so much older, was still so foolish. He wasn’t happy that he had to keep the truth about himself hidden, but Zain had thought it best. He had said it was strictly need to know, and Lucas trusted Zain as he did so few people.
“I could’ve brought him with me,” Lucas whispered, drumming his fingers on the chair’s arms.
“You know how impossible that is.” Amir said. “Bring a child into this hell? He would not have been able to stay with you anyway. He would have been with the rest of the Resistance, in Tkih, and you know how tough it is there. At least now, h
e has a proper roof over his head, and food.”
Lucas sighed. He wanted to believe what Amir was saying, so badly, but he was also so worried. Until he met Raul and heard that Niek was safe, that he was okay, he knew he would not stop worrying. Raul did not have any way to communicate with them except through Sergio, and even then it was risky. Niek was important to Lucas, but still not worth exposing themselves to the State as far as Zain was concerned.
A crash was heard, and a muffled curse from Joyce which had both of them turning to her. She was on the floor, the suit still intact around her. Amir bent his head to hide his smile, his curly hair forming a black curtain that effectively hid his face from view. Lucas felt his lips curve upwards, and Joyce glared at him. He straightened his mouth, keeping a finger at its corner to prevent a smile. She got up, not as graceful as usual, and turned her back to them. They turned their chairs to face the monitors again.
“By the way, Lucas,” Amir said. “Your hair stinks.”
“You’re the one who said to let it dry,” Lucas said. “Besides, we only have drinking water left. Supplies will only be coming tonight in the same flight as Raul, remember?”
Amir threw a piece of cloth at him. “Then cover your head.”
“Cover your nose,” Lucas threw the cloth back at him, the heavy weight around his heart lightening a fraction.
Thirteen
Sergio smiled at Alexander from across the rim of his glass.
“We did it!” He said.
The mood in the place was infectious, the entire team buoyant, and Alexander smiled at his friend. “Yes, we did.”
Even as he raised the glass to his lips, his eyes were searching for Beltram’s large frame in the crowd.
