by J. R. Harber
“Where are you from?” Asa asked. A stricken look came over her face. “I’m sorry!” he said quickly. “Is that a bad question—” He was cut off as someone seized his arm and yanked him backward, almost pulling him over.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing with my girl?” a man growled into his ear.
“Daniel, stop it!” Eve cried, leaping off the stool.
“Stay out of this, Eve!”
“I didn’t mean anything,” Asa stammered, and the man holding him back let go and shoved him forward. The barstool caught him in the stomach, and he gasped for air, struggling against his own lungs.
“Hey!” Zip shouted. “Not in here, Daniel!”
“Fine,” the man snapped. He grabbed Asa by the collar and yanked him toward the exit. Asa struggled away from him, facing his attacker for the first time.
“I didn’t do anything!” he shouted.
Daniel snorted. “Yeah, they never do anything.” He was a lot older than Eve, maybe close to forty, and while he looked as though he was in good shape, his eyes had dark circles under them, and his face looked haggard.
“Come on, man, we were just talking.”
“We were just talking, Daniel!” Eve called out.
“Stay out of it!” he snarled and grabbed Asa again by his shirt collar.
Asa fought to push him away, then kicked him, his foot landing hard on Daniel’s kneecap. Immediately Daniel launched himself at Asa, punching his solar plexus, then the side of his face. Asa doubled over, gasping for breath again. Daniel hit him from the other side, his fist landing right over Asa’s eye. Asa reeled momentarily, then hurtled himself forward, slamming Daniel’s head backward into the wall.
“Hey!”
A whistle sounded, and the next thing Asa knew he was on the floor, his whole body vibrating with a bizarre, intense pain that seemed to go on for hours. When it stopped, he lay with his eyes closed for a moment, afraid it would happen again. When it didn’t, he opened his eyes to see Daniel lying on the floor beside him, writhing in pain.
“That’s enough,” a crisp female voice said, and Daniel’s convulsions stopped. Asa pushed himself up to a sitting position, the room still spinning around him.
“What happened?” he managed to say. A man crouched to his level quickly and gave Asa a scrutinizing look, his dark eyes seeming to read far beneath the surface.
“By authority of the State, you will be questioned, judged, and sentenced, Asa Isaac Rosewood.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“GABRIEL.” JOAN PUT HER HAND ON HIS ARM, then pulled it away sharply. Gabriel didn’t look at her.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, and he turned to her with a grin.
She flinched but recovered quickly, and he held the smile a second longer. Gabriel was no longer bothered by the reaction his appearance provoked. Only Naomi had ever told him he had a nice smile with a straight face, and she had been lying.
Descriptions he’d overheard ranged from “unsettling” to “death’s head.” Frowning, neutral, or even with a faint smile he was handsome, but with a wide, cheerful grin he looked monstrous. He’d tried practicing in the mirror as a child, but he couldn’t help the way the muscles bulged under his thin, pale skin, the way his dark, hooded eyes began to resemble the hollows of a skull when he bared his teeth.
Later, when Gabriel understood that he would become a stalker, he stopped trying to fix it. A face like his would come in handy.
“I’m fine,” Gabriel said. “This is the best thing that could have happened to me today. This man has been on my list—on everyone’s list—for years.”
“That kid looks like he just stepped out of Innocent Farmers’ Weekly magazine,” Joan said dryly. “And the other one is just a drunk. I asked around. People in the nightbar say he’s seen stumbling home in that sector at least once a week. Which one are you making that ghastly face about?”
“The drunk. Leave him alone in there for a while. I want to talk to Farmers’ Weekly first.”
Asa was losing track of time.
They had taken his phone when they brought him in, and it felt as if he had spent hours already in this little featureless room, tense with anxiety. His eye was swollen half-shut, mercifully blotting out a little of the bright white light that contributed to his splitting headache. He could feel other bruises on his face.
His abdomen, where the man had landed two heavy blows, was sore all over. There was no way to sit that didn’t make it worse. He stood for a while, but the ceiling was too low for him to stand up all the way, and eventually he gave in and sat, shifting positions every few minutes to distribute the discomfort.
The room was strange, not really a room: the off-white plastic walls were rounded and cramped, and they seemed to be all one surface with the low ceiling and the floor, which was covered in a thin carpet of the same color. There were two facing benches, both of them built seamlessly into the walls. Asa couldn’t tell where the door was or even whether there was one. Maybe the little pod had been built up around him.
Probably not, he thought. He lay down on one of the benches and closed his eyes, then immediately felt himself begin to slide off it.
He opened his eyes and sat up hurriedly. Inspecting the benches, he saw they were tilted almost imperceptibly toward the center of the pod. If he didn’t stay awake, he would fall to the floor.
I wonder if people sleep on the floor, he thought. He wasn’t actually tired, but he could only sit tied in an anxious knot for so long, and curiosity was getting the better of him.
Asa bent down to feel the carpet, then yelped and snatched his hand back. His palm was covered in tiny red dots, as if it had been stung in dozens of places at once. Asa blew on it, then crouched to see what he had touched. It took him a minute to spot it: what he had thought was a carpet was tiny, thickly concentrated spines protruding from the floor of the pod. He looked at his palm, which began to burn steadily. It was red all over now, the skin puffed up slightly.
He flexed his fingers; he could move them, and there was no pain beyond the surface of his skin.
It’s not spreading, then. Asa turned his attention back to the spines. With his undamaged hand, he touched a finger to one carefully, yanking it back at the sting again.
“I wouldn’t do that,” said a woman behind him. “They are poisonous. Not very poisonous—you’d have to roll your whole body in them before you got really sick. But it’s still not very nice.”
Asa turned carefully, easing himself onto the bench. It was one of the stalkers who had brought him in. She was looking at him expressionlessly, and he had the sense that she didn’t really care whether he poisoned himself or not. He held up his hand, showing her the palm. The corner of her mouth twitched.
“So, you burned one hand and figured you’d make the other match?” She seemed to be suppressing a smile, but Asa wasn’t sure why.
“I was wondering what it was.”
“Synthetic nettle,” a man said, stepping into the room, and Asa shrunk back unintentionally.
It was the man who had detained him. Now he swept his eyes up and down Asa’s body as if he was summing him up. “I’m Gabriel Ward, Contract Enforcer. That’s Joan.” Joan gave Gabriel a look of annoyance.
“Joan Ward, Contract Enforcer. We need to ask you about what happened last night.”
“I don’t know what happened!” Asa said, the words tumbling out all at once. “It’s my first day in Horizon. I started talking to that girl, then that man attacked me. I don’t know why.”
Now they know, he thought, relieved. Now that they know what happened, it will all be okay.
Joan Ward sat down on the bench opposite him. Gabriel Ward remained standing, his posture straight.
“Why were you in that nightbar?” Joan Ward asked.
“I … I’d never been in one. At home we don’t have them. Actually, now that I’ve been to one, I think we do. They just don’t call it that.”
“What do they call it?”<
br />
“Just … Tom’s.”
Joan gave him an encouraging smile, then Gabriel sat abruptly next to her, almost pushing her out of the way. She made room, not looking at her partner.
“How do you know Daniel James Horizon?” he demanded.
“What?” Asa asked, startled. “I don’t know anyone. Here, I mean. I don’t know anyone here.”
“In my years of experience, I’ve found that most acts of physical violence take place between people who know each other well,” Gabriel said in an ironclad voice. Joan glanced at him nervously but said nothing.
“Is he the man who attacked me?” Asa asked.
“Yes, he’s the man who attacked you,” Joan said quickly. “Do you know why?”
“I mean—the girl was shouting something …” Asa put his hands to his temples. “I don’t know—I think he didn’t want me talking to her.”
“Why wouldn’t he want you talking to her?” Joan asked. Gabriel was watching with a narrow gaze, and Asa sensed that he was memorizing everything as it happened.
“Asa?” Joan prompted, and he sighed.
“I don’t know. Sometimes people get jealous, I guess, but we really were just talking.”
“Did he say anything to you during the encounter?” Gabriel asked.
“He said, ‘Stay away from my girl,’” Asa said. “I forgot about that,” he added, embarrassed. “I guess he didn’t want me talking to her.”
“Did he say anything else? Anything that wasn’t about the girl?”
“Like what?”
“Did he give you anything?” Gabriel persisted.
Asa gestured to his swollen eye.
“That’s not what I meant,” Gabriel snapped. “Did he give you any object?”
“What? When, while he was punching me?”
“Did he hand you something?”
“No, he didn’t. You searched me. If he had you would have found it.” Asa’s voice rose as he spoke. He took a deep breath, composing himself. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand anything you’re talking about.”
Gabriel looked blankly at Asa, as if considering his fate. “Come on, Joan,” he said finally.
The two stalkers—Contract Enforcers—stood, and without any visible signal, a door appeared and slid open at the front of the pod.
“How long will I be here?” Asa called, suddenly panicking. Joan stopped on the threshold.
“Stop touching the nettles,” she said, then followed Gabriel out. The door slid shut, then vanished into the wall as if it had never been there.
“I think he’s telling the truth,” Joan said once the pod door had closed behind them.
Gabriel sighed. “I know. Leave him there overnight.” He strode ahead along the long hallway lined on either side with pods identical to the one they had just left.
“Can we talk about strategy for the other one?” Joan asked.
Gabriel shook his head. “No. I’m going in alone.”
Joan stopped walking. Gabriel took a few more steps before stopping and turning around.
“I’m sorry about Naomi,” Joan said firmly, setting her jaw. “I really am. I wish you’d never had to go through that. But I am your partner now, and you have to treat me like one. I don’t care if you don’t like it—it’s your duty, and mine.”
Gabriel could see the tension in her posture, but she didn’t waver. He took a deep breath and walked back to her. “You’re right,” he said.
“So, tell me what our strategy is.”
“I am going in alone,” Gabriel said.
“Gabriel!”
“I need to go in alone,” he said hastily. “Daniel isn’t a normal detainee. We can’t question him like we did that kid—we need to catch him off guard.”
“So why can’t I go in?”
Gabriel sighed. “Okay, partner,” he forced himself to say. “It’s because Daniel knows who I am. He’ll know about Naomi and why I was on leave.”
“How would he know that?”
“He knows a lot of things. The point is, if I go alone, he’ll wonder.”
“He’ll wonder if you’re stable.”
“Ideally.” Gabriel flashed her a grin, and she smiled back.
“I’ll watch from outside,” she conceded.
“Good.”
Gabriel stopped in front of a pod identical to all the others and stood in front of the door, waiting for the facial scan to complete. Once he’d entered the pod, the door closed behind him with a hiss, leaving him alone with the man inside.
“Hello, Gabriel,” Daniel James Horizon said politely.
Gabriel smiled widely. Daniel was not an imposing figure: his close-cropped brown hair only emphasized his oversized ears, nose, and mouth, giving him an affable, almost goofy appearance. He was unshaven and unkempt, his clothes wrinkled, and he smelled like three-day-old whiskey.
“What a pleasure to welcome the uncatchable Daniel James Horizon,” Gabriel said lightly.
“Is that what they call me?” Daniel asked nonchalantly. His eyes were intent on Gabriel’s face, despite his pleasant expression. It was a little like being scrutinized by another stalker, Gabriel realized.
“It’s your name,” he said.
“I meant ‘uncatchable,’” Daniel said.
“Well, not anymore,” Gabriel said, giving him another ghoulish grin. “And to be caught in a drunken brawl, that’s just embarrassing for someone like you.”
“It should probably be embarrassing for anyone. But I’ve been a drunk long enough—it was bound to happen.”
“I meant being caught brawling instead of one of your more impressive activities.”
Daniel laughed abruptly. “What impressive activities? I’d like to know so I can brag.”
“You know what I mean.”
Daniel lifted an eyebrow. “But do you? Sit down, Gabriel. I keep thinking you’re about to hit your head on the ceiling.”
“I’ll stand.”
“Please sit. I feel like a bad host.” He gave a rueful smile.
Gabriel stared at him. Do I hate you or like you? I can usually tell. Daniel met his gaze mildly and did not look away.
“I’ll sit,” Gabriel said dryly, “but I wouldn’t worry much about hosting. You’re not the one who can open the door.”
“Are you sure about that?” Daniel didn’t break eye contact.
“Yes.” Gabriel sat on the facing bench, planting his feet on the ground so he would not slide down the sloped surface. “Talk.”
Daniel stretched his arms over his head, then slid down in his seat and extended his long legs to the opposite bench, resting his feet inches from where Gabriel sat. Gabriel didn’t move, but his eyes flicked to the door. Daniel was, technically, blocking his exit, even though Gabriel could easily push him aside.
“My mother always said I was a disappointment,” Daniel said idly. “And my father said my ears were too big, but I prefer to think it’s my head that’s too small. What do you think?”
“Tell me about mayflies.”
“Old-world insect, I think. Lived and died in three days, always near the water. Of course, the water was different back then. These days, three days would be a lot.”
“Yes, thank you. Tell me about mayflies in the context of unsanctioned technology.”
“I can’t imagine extinct bugs have much use for unsanctioned technology,” Daniel said, making a puzzled face.
Gabriel exhaled slowly. “Tell me about your income sources.”
“I get a two-hundred-thousand-credit stipend from the State every year on my birthday. It’s a very good system. Makes for a nice birthday party.”
“Have you ever obtained, used, or sold technology not issued by the State?”
Daniel tilted his head to the side. “I’m sorry, stalker, but I’m missing something. What do insects and innovative technology have to do with this little spat I was in last night?” He smiled pleasantly, meeting Gabriel’s eyes again and holding them.
I have to sto
p, Gabriel thought. Daniel’s eyes were hazel, he noticed idly, with a little fleck of black in one iris. He’s right. I’m straying too far from the incident. I’m at the edge of jurisdiction.
“Just trying to get a clear picture,” Gabriel said and cleared his throat. “Did you know the other party?”
“Never met him before. Little blond boy, almost as young and pretty as my Eve.”
“Eve was the woman involved in the dispute?”
Daniel’s head jerked up. “Involved in the dispute? Wait, you didn’t arrest her, did you?”
“No,” Gabriel said. “She did nothing wrong.”
Daniel nodded, a shaken look on his face. Even the thought that she might be in custody had disturbed him deeply.
“Daniel,” Gabriel said more gently. “Why did you assault that boy?”
Daniel cast his eyes down, looking almost ashamed. “Everyone heard me shouting it, didn’t they? I may as well admit it. I didn’t want him talking to my Eve. I know it was wrong, but you know how it is. Love can make a man crazy.”
Gabriel froze, holding himself perfectly still. Love can make a man crazy … “I guess that’s true,” he said, each word as cold as ice.
He stood abruptly and started for the door, knocking Daniel’s feet off the bench as he did. Daniel let out a shout, and Gabriel turned rapidly to see him land hard on the floor, the side of his face touching the carpet.
Gabriel rushed to help him up, but Daniel waved him off.
“It’s fine, I’ve been burned before,” he said.
“I’ll send in a medical autom,” Gabriel said. The right half of Daniel’s face was already bright red and beginning to swell.
“Ask it to bring a beer,” Daniel joked, his speech slurred by the carpet’s poison.
“I didn’t intend to do that,” Gabriel said, and Daniel nodded.
“I know. Sorry for what I said—it wasn’t a dig at you. And I’m sorry about Naomi. No one deserves that, not you, and not her.” There was genuine pain in his voice, though it could have been the nettles.
Gabriel blinked and looked away. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll send a medical autom,” he repeated.
