Dorje grunted again, conceding that with a vague gesture of one hand.
Jon could tell he wasn't forgiven though. Not entirely.
Walking up behind the Tibetan-looking seer, he laid his hands on his shoulders cautiously. When Dorje didn't move away, Jon began massaging the muscles there with his fingers and palms. He didn't speak until he felt Dorje begin to relax.
"I'm sorry, cousin," Jon said.
"I do not like this comparison thing you do," Dorje grumbled in a lower voice, folding his arms tighter. "It already bothers me that you assume I will leave you in a few decades only because you will appear older than me to other humans. You think I am like some teenager, who will run off with the next pretty butterfly..."
Jon didn't answer that, either, but continued to massage the seer's shoulders. He moved gradually down his back when Dorje didn't move away. The only sound in the room was the machine's low hum as it continued to spit out the long, continuous ream of paper from somewhere inside of its workings.
"Am I forgiven yet?" Jon said.
"No," Dorje said, his jaw tightening as he continued to face forward.
Sighing, Jon continued to massage him, but decided not to try and coax him into a better mood. Things had shifted with them again recently, and Jon knew Dorje was a little sensitive as a part of that. Sometimes that manifested in him being hyper-sensitive to Jon using sex in any way to influence his moods.
Thinking about that, he took his hands off him after another beat, and wandered over to the machine, peering down at the paper that was coiled in the bottom of the container. He felt Dorje react to him taking his hands away, but he also knew the seer probably heard his reasons why, so wouldn't take it personally.
Even as he thought it, Dorje came up behind him, sliding his arm around Jon's waist as they looked down at the bin.
"Don't you want to read it, cousin?" Dorje asked. His voice was warm now, holding an open affection.
Thinking about this, Jon smiled, glancing down at the shorter man. "Yeah," he said then, realizing it was the truth. "Yeah, I do."
Reaching carefully into the bin so he wouldn't tangle the still-flowing paper, Jon pulled out the thick roll that stood in there so far, and carefully began unwrapping it to reach the end...which, in this case, would be the beginning.
"How much data can one of these things hold?" Jon said, squinting at the small print covering the ream in an uninterrupted column.
Dorje shrugged. "I don't know. I never used one of these...not even in the war."
Jon nodded, still unrolling the paper, moving away from the machine to keep the strip flowing smoothly, and relatively straight. When he reached the end, he found himself staring at the words printed there, sure he was hallucinating.
"What is it, cousin?" Dorje said, walking up beside him once more.
"Am I seeing this right?" Jon said, the disbelief reaching his voice.
Dorje leaned closer, his head resting against Jon's shoulder as he read the small print at the top of the page. Jon felt the seer stiffen after he'd looked at it, right before his eyes wandered over the characters again.
"That's you, Jon," Dorje said in a whisper.
"I guess it is," Jon said, swallowing.
"What does it mean?" Dorje said.
Jon shook his head, still staring at his own name, printed out in a font that looked as old and organic-seeming as the machine, in a script closer to handwriting than actual typeface, but with perfectly legible letters.
...Jonathan Sebastian Taylor. Male. Born: July 20, 1980. Birthplace: San Francisco, California, USA. Rank: 1 (command). Position: First wave - Second. Race: Human, possible crossover (Knight)...
"It says 'command,' Jon," Dorje said, tapping the paper with one finger. "Did you see that? It says command by your name..."
"I saw it." Jon shook his head, as if to clear the word from his memory. "...What's a 'crossover'?" he said, rereading the last words. "What does 'Knight' mean?"
That time, it was Dorje who shook his head, his eyes puzzled as he read over the same words. "I don't know. Maybe Balidor could tell us?"
"Or Wreg," Jon added without thinking. "...He seems to know a lot about this kind of thing."
Dorje frowned, but didn't answer.
Again, Jon wondered if the seer was hiding something from him, then decided he probably wasn't. In any case, he could press the point later.
He slid further down the coiled roll of paper, letting his eyes travel down and find random lines of text. Every time he paused, it was on another name, with the same sets of information, but all answered differently.
...Rain Katarin LeBruin. Female. Born: January 1, 1986. Birthplace: Pierfonds, France. Rank: 2 (genetics). Position: First wave - Second. Race: Human...
"Are they all human?" Dorje asked, reading sections of paper as Jon handed them to him, scanning names from the same list.
"I don't know," Jon said, swallowing.
He found himself reading the next name, and the next...almost as if memorizing each one.
...Sanja Elana Kovokovich. Female. Born August 10, 1973. Birthplace: Montenegro. Rank: 2 (tech). Position: First wave - Second. Race: Human...
...Geoff Stefan Volkelieben. Male. Born: May 10, 1990. Birthplace: Stuttgartt, Deutschland. Rank 3 (military). Position: First wave. Race: Human...
...Shotzhu Xui Lin. Female. Born: December 22, 1995. Birthplace: Lhasa, Tibet Province. Rank 2 (beta). Position: First wave - Second. Race: Human...
"No other crossovers," Dorje commented. "I wonder what that means?"
Jon just stood there, working his way down the list, reading names, ranks he didn't understand...positions for which he had no definition. Dorje stood motionless beside him, doing the same. The seer didn't speak either, but Jon felt something between them, a shared silence, as if they were reading some kind of religious text instead of what looked more like a membership roster to some inexplicable club. Something lived in the collectivity of all of them together, on the same list...something of more import than the simplicity that the names, dates and terse descriptions seemed to allow, at least on their own.
For what felt like a long time, the only sound in the room was the hum of the machine as the long ream of paper continued to run out of the slot in the side.
6
IRRATIONAL
I DON’T KNOW when, exactly, that I knew something was wrong.
It didn't come to me the way that information usually comes...meaning, I didn't get words, or even pictures. I didn't get any sense of him, really, or even of pain, at least not any more than usual. I could barely feel him at all, in fact, at least when it came to specifics.
It was more this feeling of dread, like something deep down in my stomach.
It didn't occur to me until later that it reminded me more of what I'd felt in that hospital bed under the White House in Washington D.C., when Revik had been upstairs playing unwilling with Ullysa and Kat, along with the Vice President and all of his seer-fetish pals.
It's probably good I didn't think of that then, though.
As it was, I found myself wondering if I was being blocked somehow...if someone was intentionally interfering with the connection between us. Given everything that had just happened, that alone was more than I could really take.
I'd already been more than a little tempted to take him up on his offer of spending the day together in bed, and probably would have if Balidor hadn't insisted on grilling me the second we got back, while Wreg took Revik somewhere else, away from me. I'd wondered even then if Balidor was deliberately keeping the two of us apart.
In any case, that dread was bad enough to get me out of bed, in spite of how tired I was.
I didn't bother to get dressed, but threw a robe on over the long T-shirt and jogging shorts I wore, both of which were his, actually...which may or may not have been some kind of subconscious thing on my part. Truthfully, I'd gotten into the habit of sleeping in his clothes, ever since the plane ride to New York. I knew that was at
least partly because I hadn't been allowed to sleep with him, but I hadn't really thought too closely about that, either.
Jamming my feet into my most worn pair of tennis shoes, I raked my fingers through my hair, glanced at a mirror and decided I didn't care. I didn't really intend to be awake long enough for my overall lack of coiffing to matter much...to either of us, really.
Anyway, he seemed borderline uncomfortable with the way I dressed these days. Maybe seeing me looking like a total slob would reassure him. After all, it was pretty much how I used to look when I knew him on the ship and in Seertown...and even in that rebel compound. Living with the Lao Hu had changed that, I suppose, but not because I was trying to look sexy or even trying to get his attention. Really, I was just sick of dressing like a teenaged boy.
Something changed I guess, somewhere between that first trip to China and the last one. It started to feel like my old street clothes from San Francisco were more of a costume than the reverse. My views on that whole thing started changing months before the Lao Hu got ahold of me. I'd picked out different clothes on that last shopping trip to Delhi, too, and that wasn't all because of Revik, either.
But I could tell it made Revik nervous for some reason. I just hadn't had the nerve to ask him why, yet...probably because I was afraid he'd made some connection in his own mind to the work I'd been doing for the Lao Hu.
I was reluctant to go there with him, I guess.
So far, I'd managed to successfully dodge most of his feelings about that whole thing. It wasn't something I was proud of, but I hadn't tried to remedy it, either. I guess I was hoping we could hold off on talking about the hard stuff until things were more normal between us.
I wandered around the loop of corridors on our floor, which happened to be the 58th. It wasn't the highest floor in the hotel, but it was up there. A number of larger, penthouse suites stood a few levels above ours, along with a whole floor pretty much dedicated to the Adhipan and their high-level infiltrators.
Directly below us, on the 57th floor, was where Jon and Dorje, Wreg, and a number of the ex-rebels lived. A few below them, there were also something like eight floors of executive suites, which was odd for a normal, human hotel. A whole floor below that was filled with upper end restaurants, a gym and a library. The business suites themselves weren't a security risk for us, primarily because the real estate had already been set aside for and rented by seer-owned businesses only. The tenants paid extra for individualized and security-monitored constructs, as well as the high-grade security of the main building itself, that protected them from the watchful eyes of SCARB and the World Court.
Balidor said that at least two of those businesses were breaking the law simply by the scale of their operations, and their relative GNP, given the World Court restrictions on seer cash and capital holdings. There were caps on how much could be owned by majority-seer enterprises or individuals...generally speaking, violators who were caught were strictly punished.
Of course, these particular companies also had a lot of dealings with the black market, both seer and human. But, as Revik joked, if you're already breaking the law, there's not much incentive to clean up any part of the house.
One company contracted out competing work with the human organics manufacturers, using lab-created organic material as its base, rather than dead seers...especially recently dead seers, as in, murdered stock from seer work camps that wouldn't fetch a high enough price alive. Another ran operations meant to actively undermine those same organics interests, as well as the trading companies that usually provided their stock. That same company could also be contracted for hits...but more commonly, extractions of loved ones and political prisoners from work camps or other forms of private ownership by humans.
Revik pulled some of those groups with him when he left Salinse and the more radical faction of the rebels. Some were allies of Balidor and the Adhipan before the rebels even existed, like the owners of the hotel itself.
The reorganization of the more permanent residents of the hotel had actually occurred mostly while Balidor, Wreg and Revik were first working together, and while I was still with the Lao Hu in Beijing. They'd needed a new home base, one less remote than anything in the mountains of China or India. They needed a central location...partly to deal with the massive influx of refugees from the work camps Revik had liberated a year earlier, and partly to deal with the escalating problems seers were experiencing in the wealthier countries, especially the United States and parts of Europe.
They also wanted to work more closely with the largest of the seer holding companies, in an attempt to both channel and pool resources.
Revik said they'd gone back and forth between Europe and the United States for awhile in their initial planning, most of which occurred while I was still in China. They'd found a possible base in Stockholm...another in London. They'd also considered the west coast of the United States, and even Mexico City for a time.
They finally landed on New York for a number of logistical reasons, including its easy access to Europe and relative proximity to South America, where the main offices of Black Arrow and SCARB were still located.
Also, Revik said, they had reason to believe that Salinse was planning a number of operations targeting New York specifically...operations that Revik had been in the preliminary stages of planning when he was still one of them.
I could barely think about any of that now, though.
I stumbled down the chocolate-colored, plush carpet in my scuffed shoes, barely noticing the expensive light fixtures or the lamps in accent-wall alcoves, or the painting at the end of the hall that I'd been told was done by some famous seer artist. I was so far out of it with the art scene by then, I hadn't even recognized the guy's name, although supposedly he'd been all over the art feeds for the past few years.
When I made the last turn to where Revik's room lived, I felt my breath catch.
Mainly, it was the guards that threw me.
Seeing guards standing outside his door brought me up short, but only long enough to get my head around why they might be there. Then I was walking faster, re-knotting the cotton tie around my waist that held my robe closed.
Both guards gave me uncomfortable looks when they saw me.
I knew them pretty well, to look at anyway. One was Loki, and he worked for Wreg. Well, he worked for Revik really, but also Wreg. The other was Poresh, who originally worked for Balidor and the Adhipan. I knew they'd started making a practice of that, pairing Adhipan with ex-rebels, in an attempt to integrate the teams better. I knew this partly because it had been my idea, I think, from a brainstorm in one of my discussions with Revik.
These two had done better with the arrangement than most.
"I want to see him," I said simply.
It was hard to pretend the situation was wholly normal, me showing up at my husband's guarded door wearing a fuzzy bathrobe and tennis shoes, my hair in bizarre knots from having laid down on it directly after my shower.
I looked from one of them to the other when they didn't answer. I could see them conversing with someone in the Barrier and cleared my throat.
"Do you mind?" I said.
I started to walk forward as I said it, deciding on the direct approach. My hand reached for the door handle, but Loki stepped into my path, blocking that same handle from my view. I saw the hesitation there, the uncomfortable expression that remained in his eyes.
He also looked somewhat embarrassed now, as well.
"What?" I said, giving each of them an incredulous look. "You're really going to try and keep me from seeing my own husband? On what grounds?"
Loki's eyes shifted sideways, exchanging another uncomfortable look with Poresh.
"Seriously, guys." I exhaled in irritation. "I'm going to knock your heads together with the telekinesis if you don't stop looking at each other like that." My voice sharpened. "Speak. Right now. Who's keeping me out? Is it 'Dori?"
"He is wounded, Esteemed Bridge," Poresh said, blurtin
g the words.
"I'm aware of that," I answered. "But he asked me to come earlier. I waited until the medical techs had time to see him..." Which was mostly true, I thought. I just hadn't made up my mind to take him up on his offer until now. "...I'm assuming they have him stabilized?" I added.
"He's asleep, Esteemed One," Loki said.
His voice was as disjointed-sounding as Poresh's, though.
I looked between the two of them, my hands on my hips. Frowning, I finally let my tiredness turn my voice angry.
"Are you going to get out of my way?" I said. "Or do I seriously have to use the telekinesis?" At their expressions, I folded my arms, sighing. "This is ridiculous...you know that, right? He asked to see me. I'm here. I'm not leaving until I've seen him..."
Both of them paled a bit, staring at me.
"He doesn't want visitors, Esteemed Bridge..."
"Then he can tell me to leave," I said. "The last time I spoke to him, he'd asked me to come. Until I hear otherwise from him, I'm going to assume those are still his wishes –– "
"It was Balidor," Poresh blurted.
When I turned my head to look at him, he reddened slightly.
"...He is concerned you will injure the Sword further, Esteemed Bridge," Poresh explained. "He told us the Sword is not himself...that he cannot see you until he is more recovered. He said that his judgment is impaired from the loss of light..." Hesitating, Poresh glanced at the robe I wore. "...And other extenuating factors. It is why he wants only male guards here..."
"Yeah," I muttered. "...Because men are so trustworthy with that kind of thing."
Even so, I felt my chest constrict. They still weren't telling me everything. Had something happened? Had Revik lost his cool, tried something on one of them? Or was Balidor just pissed off at me for getting him hurt in the first place?
Allie's War Season Three Page 12
