by Watts Martin
He narrows his eyes. “You’re lucky we’re at a police station right now,” he mutters.
Dupree gives him a sharp look.
Gail puts her hands to her head, staring at Nakimura. “Jesus, where did you find this guy? Why’s he’s still working for you?”
“Mr. Nelson is an approved contractor,” he replies curtly. “While he may have a blind spot with respect to you, he’s done good work for Keces in other matters, and has been involved with this case from its start.”
The elevator doors open. The second floor has such an open design that at first glance it’s hard to spot any floor-to-ceiling walls, just dividers separating departments. The air smells of over-applied citrus deodorizer, masking the scents of all the employees save for momentary bursts, like whispers you’re not sure weren’t your imagination. There’s not a single uniform in sight, either, beyond the cloisonné pins. When she left the River, discovering that most judiciaries fielded uniformed deputies surprised her. Again, what had been normal for her as a child has become alien.
They’re led deeper into the building, toward one of those few real walls and through a door into a larger meeting room. The deodorizer isn’t working as well here, losing its battle with human sweat: mostly Captain Spitty, from appearance, but at least one of the women standing there in a PFS uniform is sweating, too. Okay, she should think “cisform sweat,” not “human sweat,” but sometimes it seems like the smell’s at least as much of a difference between totemics and cisforms as the obvious appearance changes—totemics not only smell different from base species to base species, they just don’t sweat as much. Still, she knows there’s more effective skin deodorants than whatever Spitty’s using. Did he charge in here screaming demands? Given the beaten-down look in his eyes, probably. Oh, that would have been so much fun to see.
As everyone turns to them, Dupree speaks. “This is Jason Nakimura of Keces Industries, and his associate, Blake Nelson.”
Sky’s dressed in a better-tailored outfit than Gail ever remembers seeing her in, a dark blue sports jacket and white blouse. She looks imposing. “Thank you for agreeing to come.” She gestures at a seat. “This is Captain Taylor of Panorica Federation Security, Officers Canales, Jollenbeck and Wolfe, and Agent Thomas of Interpol.”
Jack nods. “Good to finally meet you, Mr. Nakimura.”
Nakimura takes a seat and laces his hands together in front of him on the table. “It was my understanding that Quanta Biotechnics would also be sending a representative to this tribunal.”
Sky starts to speak, but Spitty talks over her. “So far they’ve refused.” His tone is dry, matter-of-fact. “They don’t recognize the Ceres Ring’s claim for jurisdiction in this matter and they’re relying on the PFS and Interpol to return their stolen property to them.”
“It is true that the Ceres Ring’s claims seem dubious.” Nakimura tilts his head fractionally, studying Sky.
“Ms. Simmons is a Ring citizen, and she alleges extortionate behavior from you and your associates on behalf of Keces Industries.”
“I see.”
Spitty cuts in again, tone louder, more heated. “This isn’t about Simmons, it’s about the RJC acting like they get special jurisdiction because the technology affects totemics.”
Dupree holds up a hand. “We haven’t made any special—”
“Oh, come on!” He gestures accusingly toward Sky. “Is anyone in this room seriously going to claim we’d be here right now if that databox didn’t have plans for making animal-people babies?”
When Sky speaks she keeps her voice level, but the tremor belies how difficult it is for her. “Our jurisdiction is no—”
“Speak clearly.”
The wolf glares at him, and speaks each word like a slow dagger. “Our jurisdiction is no more ‘special’ than yours. The databox’s contents are a concern, yes, but the circumstances are extraordinary.”
“Those circumstances only exist because you and Thomas conspired to bring the databox here in the first place.”
Jack stiffens. “I ‘conspired’ to investigate the theft properly.” He gestures toward Nakimura. “If it wasn’t for me, no one would even have looked into Keces’ claim, which appears much stronger than Quanta’s.”
Nakimura nods to Jack, then looks to Taylor. “I share your reservations about the Ring’s interest. However, someone executed attacks on Keces Industries, not Quanta Biotechnics, to ensure that this databox was the only surviving copy of critical project data, then arranged an elaborate theft. You know this, yet you insist the databox should be sent back to Earth.”
“Quanta is an Earth company!”
“Given that they have a legal presence here while we do not have one in the inner system, this jurisdiction is more equitable. And can you explain how Quanta even knew about this databox to tip Interpol about it, given that it was being moved between Keces facilities on a private, unannounced transport?”
Jack answers. “By your own admission the databox contains Quanta’s work, so it’s reasonable to assume they have spies within your organization just like you must in theirs. A lot of the difficulty in this case stems from you and Quanta both being bad actors.”
Sky holds up a hand. “This isn’t the tribunal yet.”
Taylor shakes his head. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“Then let me clear that up for you, Captain Taylor.” Dupree drums her fingers on the table. “From a legal standpoint, you and I both know that your orders to take back the box might as well be scribbled in purple crayon. The only reason I haven’t handcuffed everyone in this room wearing a PFS uniform is because Bright Sky, the woman you’ve been lobbing accusations at the last two hours, talked me out of doing so. You’re a centimeter away from talking me back into it.”
He straightens up, crossing his arms, but looks away.
Nakimura leans forward. “I would like to return to the matter of Quanta’s representative to this tribunal. If I understand your process correctly, they must be represented by someone.”
Sky sighs. “They can explicitly waive their right to representation, but otherwise you’re right.” She goes over the tribunal system with him again, nearly word for word the way she’d explained it to Gail earlier.
“If they do not have a representative on the way yet, I do not see how the tribunal can hold to the rather aggressive schedule that was outlined to me.”
“That’s a valid point.” Taylor isn’t raising his voice now, for once. He doesn’t even sound that aggressive. “I need to talk to the PFS, and Interpol, about this. Since Quanta indicated they’re still expecting us to return the databox, they might permit me to be their representative. If you will, that is.”
Dupree frowns. “I think we can take a break for now, then.” She looks to Sky. The wolf nods.
“All right.” He pushes back from the table and motions to the other PFS officers. “We’ll be back within the hour if at all possible. I may have a lot of arguing ahead of me.”
“Should I join you?” Jack starts to stand.
Taylor looks at him. “No, I don’t think you’ll need to.” He heads out, the rest following. Wolfe gives Jack an apologetic glance but stays silent.
Nakimura’s the first one to break the silence. “What is Ms. Simmons’ role in this tribunal?”
“She’s a potential witness.” Sky gives Gail a slight smile. “And we need to determine what the appropriate redress for what you’ve done to her is.”
Gail clears her throat. “That does remind me to ask about the socius indignus threat. The deadline’s, uh, more or less now.”
“Given the extenuating circumstances, it would be unfair to hold you to that contract, Ms. Simmons. We will release you with no obligation for further service on your part.”
That’s it? That fast? Of course, he’s in a less than friendly legal environment. “What about paying me for transferring the salvage claim?”
“We will not pay you for services not rendered, Ms. Simmons.”
“Thank you, Mr. Nakimura.” Dupree tilts her head. “However, the tribunal must determine whether compensating her for her time and expenses is appropriate.”
He purses his lips, then turns to Sky. “It is my belief that Ms. Simmons is personally apolitical. You, Ms. Sky, are not. I have some concerns that your sense of justice will not be assuaged by Keces commercializing Shakti as we intend.”
“I doubt it will.” She folds her arms. “The Ring has no legal basis for taking ownership of the work, if that’s what concerns you, however.”
He steeples his hands. “That is somewhat reassuring.” Then he stands and inclines his head to Sky. “I believe I should take this time to consult more with Keces’ legal counsel. While they approved my participation on the tribunal, I would like to confirm they are aware of the stakes.” He leaves the room. Suspicious Detective pushes himself away from the table with a grunt and follows.
Jack turns to Sky. “Is a tribunal here legally binding for both Quanta and Keces?”
“Yes. Keces’s judiciary will hold them to the tribunal’s decision.”
“That’s one.”
“If Quanta wants to continue doing business around the River, they’ll follow suit.”
Ansel clears his throat. “Your answer about ownership seemed very carefully worded.”
Sky sighs, glancing at Gail, then at Ansel. “I’m not just bound by law here, Ansel, I’m an officer of it, and I take that seriously. Beyond that, I’m not irrational. Even if we had a legal mechanism for nationalization, which we don’t, we don’t have the resources that Keces does to deploy this. I intend to recommend compulsory licensing of their patents to other providers, but also to give Keces time to set themselves up as the premier provider of the service. And I may not get my way. Keces and Quanta will likely vote against that, so the other two tribunal members would need to side with me.”
Ansel nods, but doesn’t look mollified.
“I’m surprised you’ve reserved even that power.” Jack lifts his brows. “It’s so very…state-like.”
“It is.” Ansel sighs. “But intellectual property is a compromise to start with. You can make a case that if you’re going to have patents at all, compulsory licensing strikes a better balance between inventors and producers.”
“We discourage patents on the Ring, but we respect them.” Dupree laughs. “Despite legends to the contrary.” She pauses and looks down at the wrist band she’s wearing. “You’ll have to excuse me; I have to join the video call with Captain Taylor, it seems.”
“Good luck,” Gail mutters.
She smiles, standing up, then waves around at those still seated. “Gail, Ansel—you don’t have to stay for the rest of the afternoon if you choose not to. If we have any further questions for you before the tribunal, we’ll be in touch.”
After she leaves, Jack folds his arms. “I’m beginning to wonder whether I need to stay for the rest of the case.”
Sky tilts her head. “Until Interpol officially drops it, it’s still your case, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. I just don’t know what I’m going to do at this point other than offer moral support.”
Ansel snorts. “Hopefully part of what else you’re going to do is make sure someone’s still covering my fees. And lodging. And let me know when I can go the hell home.”
“I’ll do what I can. Meanwhile I suspect your home’s no longer in any danger, and it doesn’t seem like I’ll have any further need of your services. I imagine you can go home at any time unless Sky says otherwise.”
Ansel looks toward Gail.
“I guess he’s right. I mean, if things go according to schedule the tribunal’s going to be in just two days. But you…” You should stick around even if you don’t want to because I want you to, even though I think we’re not nearly as close as I’ve been fooling myself into thinking we are and you have already gone way farther out on a limb for me than I have any right to expect and all I’ve done in return is turn your life into a radioactive dump.
She bites her lip, then summons a casual shrug. “You don’t have to stick around.”
He’s looking at her very carefully. Maybe she doesn’t have the poker face she thinks she does. “Okay. I’m not on a deadline, I don’t have to rush back, but I needed to know if something more was expected of me.”
“I don’t think so.”
Jack stands up abruptly. He’s holding his viewcard, clearly reading an alert. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I have to follow up on this.” He hurries out of the room.
Now it’s just her, Ansel and Sky. The wolf’s let her guard down enough to look dazed; she’s been riding a rocket the last couple of days and maybe it’s catching up with her.
“Hey.” She gets up and touches Sky’s shoulder. “Can I do anything for you?”
After a small sigh, the wolf puts her hand over the rat’s lightly. “No, but I appreciate you asking. There are just…so many questions I have about Shakti.”
“Like whether Nevada and Travis really get an antlered fox kid?”
She laughs. “Yes. For one. But more—what it means to turn us into a race. Or many races.” She looks over at Ansel. “And how our own people will react to that, not just cisforms.”
“It sounds like it’s finally moved from ‘if’ to ‘when.’ But you don’t understand why I’m so wary about going down this path, do you?”
Gail scratches the back of her head. “I don’t think I do, either.”
“What do you think the defining characteristic of totemics is?”
“Merging human and animal.”
“Physically, yes, but we do that for dozens of different reasons. Spiritual, philosophical. Sometimes it’s pragmatic. Sometimes it’s just aesthetic. There’s no one reason someone becomes a totemic. What links it all together? It’s not tails and fur and pointy ears. It’s choice.”
Sky furrows her brow.
“The way I see it, we’re already a race. Maybe we chose it, maybe our parents chose it, but it’s that choice that makes us unique, that makes us different from any other race before us. If Nevada chooses to have her child transformed in utero with Shakti, that’s still a choice—but that child won’t have a choice any more than cisform humans do.” He shakes his head. “I know that’s what Mara dreamed of all along. But maybe what we’re losing is more than we gain.”
Sky’s frown deepens, but she doesn’t say anything. Nobody does.
Gail clears her throat. “I know it’s a little early, but I’m kinda starving, so I’m gonna go get lunch.”
Ansel manages a faint smile. “Sometimes I envy your lack of strong opinions, Gail.”
She frowns, echoing the wolf’s look. She can tell he’s not intending to be insulting, even though he’s tacitly agreeing with Nakimura: she’s apolitical. But that’s not the same thing as being a blank display. Sure, she’s never thought of herself as opinionated, but it’s not like she just has white noise between her ears.
“There’s just a lot to think about here,” she says, knowing how thin that sounds. She stands up.
Ansel stands, too. “Can I come with you? I feel like I need to get out of here for a while.”
“Sure.”
“I have more work to do here. I’ll keep you up to date.” Sky stands as well.
When they’re in the elevator, Ansel turns to Gail. “Didn’t Jack say he’d be right back?”
Chapter 17
Jack isn’t in the lobby, either. What does this mean? Has he gone off with Captain Taylor? He couldn’t have gone off with Nakimura, surely.
She doubts he’s got his privacy mirrors very open—she’s never had reason to check before—but there have to be public-access street views here. And New Coyoacán being New Coyoacán, the RJC office should give public access to cameras that aren’t explicitly set private. She pulls out her viewcard and swipes the speaker on so Ansel can hear the ship, too. “Kis, where’s Agent Thomas’s last reported location?”
“A
gent Thomas has not granted you access to his location information. He is no longer in the Ring Judicial Cooperative building.”
She sighs. “I figured that out already. Do you see him anywhere?”
Ansel gives her an amused look. “That’s a pretty non-specific way to ask that.”
“She knows what I mean,” Gail murmurs.
After a few seconds, Kismet responds. “He may have entered the Blue Coyote Café two blocks east of your location along Second Street.”
“Thanks.” She puts the card away, looking smug.
“He ‘may’ have entered? Mara’s Blood, you’ve somehow trained your ship’s computer to be as noncommittal as you are.”
“She just means she can’t make an absolute confirmation from whatever street views caught him.”
“Fine, fine.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender, tail swishing. “But what’s the plan? Go down to this café, peek in and see if he’s meeting someone sinister-looking?”
“Well, we’ll…” She shrugs and starts walking. “Yeah, I think that’s the plan.”
After a block the street gets more commercial-residential again. She picks out a half-dozen restaurants without even trying, and all of them look full service. The buildings are all two- and three-story, the upper floors apartments. One across the street sounds like it’s having a midday party.
The Blue Coyote’s small but appealing, with the Spanish-style decor that Jack had said he’d expected in a city with a name like this: tile floor and tabletops, rustic wood trim, wrought iron accents. The air carries an odd mix of coffee, cinnamon and corn.
Jack’s at a table by the street-facing window, a painted ceramic mug in front of him. He’s alone. They’re definitely in his line of sight as they walk up but if he sees them, he doesn’t give any sign. He looks—unhappy? No. Yes, but in the specific numb way you get when an unexpected crisis you can’t even process has dropped on you. She recognizes it because she’s pretty sure she’s had that expression a lot the last week.
“Do you think we should bother him? He looks like he wants to be alone.” Ansel’s tail curls down.
