Visions of Jenna dropping Eamon to the ground, the fire in her eyes, the thirst for conflict with Seth and with her – they all play out in a jumbled, fractured memory. The sweet feeling of triumph tingles along Anaiya’s neural pathways and a cold smile plays on her lips.
Jenna’s eyes narrow at the sight.
“No,” Anaiya says, her voice as hard as her smile. “I am not getting too close to the targets.”
Niamh nods, satisfied: her voice rings with a truth she’s only just discovered for herself. A small corner of her mind marvels at how, just a few hours ago, the same words would have marked her as a liar.
“Jen, give us a minute.”
The Peacekeeper scowls, but leaves the room.
“Then what happened out there?” Niamh asks once they are alone.
Anaiya chooses her words carefully. Her time at the izakaya is quickly glossed over as standard surveillance and reconnaissance, slanted as a story of how she had identified Rehhd and attached herself to the group.
Her retelling of the confrontation with Jenna in the back streets near the necropolis comes much easier. Anaiya draws out the details, turning a three-minute skirmish into an epic tale. With each word, she drives the needle deeper, relishing the pleasure in imagining Jenna’s face contort into tight grimaces as Anaiya hints at her lack of restraint and the risks her cavalier attitude had posed to the overall mission.
Niamh, oblivious to or uninterested in the tacit conflict playing out in the room, nods his head and waves his hands around, impatient. “So, what happened afterwards? Were you able to obtain any valuable intel?”
Anaiya’s mind falters, unsure how to spin this particular part of the story. Her earlier instinct to tell Niamh the truth, or at least part of it, has quickly evaporated in Jenna’s presence. “I’ve gained some credibility,” she says. “Rehhd seems to trust me and her acquaintances have raised no objections or concerns.”
The substitution of Rehhd for Seth is a simple one and, to some extent, she is confident that the Resistance leader has in fact accepted her backstory. The lack of concern from the rest of the group is a harder untruth to speak. Anaiya’s memory revisits the tension between Seth and Kaide and she sees again the concern and distrust in Kaide’s eyes. She’ll need to fix that.
Niamh rubs vigorously at the frown creasing his forehead. Bringing up his lifeline, he calls Jenna back in. She glances momentarily at Anaiya before taking a seat near Niamh.
“Who are the acquaintances?” Niamh asks. “What do we know about them?”
Jenna plugs in her glass screen and taps on the wall, bringing up a high-definition photograph of Rehhd that zooms large before shrinking and shifting to the centre. She swipes and taps on her glass and a new photo appears.
“Eamon 801,” she says. “Fourth lustrum Air Elemental, Graphics competency. Primary offender in recent conflict. Substantial Unorthodoxy record. Known connection to Rehhd 020 dates back two years. Both were detained for 93C, 150 and 195 offences.”
Anaiya translates the offences in her head. Affray, stealing manufactured goods, destroying or damaging property.
“Analysis of data movements confirms regular interaction.”
Eamon’s photograph shrinks in size and falls into position beside Rehhd’s, a thick, dark line connecting the two images.
Jenna taps again and another image appears on the screen.
“Kaide 177. Present at the recent conflict. Multiple Unorthodoxy offences. Seventeen co-location instances with Rehhd over the last six months.”
Seventeen?
“Ani?” Niamh questions, halting Jenna’s narrative.
“Yes,” she replies, losing her train of thought. “He’s a known associate. He’s been present the last few times I have monitored Rehhd.”
Niamh nods. “Add him to the list of potential targets,” he directs Jenna.
Jenna nods and begins tapping on her glass screen. She is not finished. A blank space flickers on the wall: the spot where a third associate will be located. Anaiya’s body tenses and a strange tingling affects her clenched fingers.
“Unknown Elemental,” Jenna announces, looking up to the wallscreen. A question mark appears in the space. “We’re confident that for an operation of this scale, there would be at least three core associates. There are just too many potential candidates based on the data analysis alone. Surveillance has managed to narrow it down somewhat, but our primary target interacts with a wide range of Elementals.”
“Give us a name, Ani.” Niamh’s voice is flat and harsh.
Anaiya is careful not to pause, or take a deep breath, or engage in any behaviour that would betray her knowledge. She answers as if without thought or pretence. “It’s too early to identify a third candidate. I’ve had some exposure to Kaide but have yet to make contact with Eamon, let alone others of the circle. I’ll need more time. And opportunities.”
Jenna’s fingers flicker across the glass screen in immediate response. “Eamon’s movements suggest that he’ll be present at the Rabid Dog izakaya from 1800 hours tonight.”
“Good,” Niamh says. “Get what you can tonight, Anaiya. I want an update tomorrow.”
* * *
THE WORM IS quiet as it makes its way through the lower-numbered precincts to the Eastern Area. Anaiya sits stiffly, the polyurethane seat resisting her slightest movement.
It hadn’t surprised her that Niamh had directed her to meet him after the briefing session. Interrogation. He knew Anaiya’s competitive streak intimately and was observant enough to notice that she was providing bare details with Jenna in the room. What had surprised her was his invitation to meet at the Wild Rover.
Memories of her last foray into the izakaya hangs heavy in her consciousness, inextricable from those of the realignment testing and all that came after. Despite her limbic control, echoes of his betrayal trip the wires of her heart. She doesn’t fight it, instead using the opportunity to explore her feelings for him.
She cedes control of her neural pathways slowly, careful to manage the transition from the stable and rational neocortex to the impulsive and unpredictable limbic brain. Immersing herself in simple Peacekeeper memories, she lets emotions attach to them. The easy, predictable ones develop first. Her awe at Niamh’s abilities, her trust in his leadership, her satisfaction at his recognition of her own worth.
Encouraged, she delves deeper in the memories, opening up the limbic pathway for more emotional responses. Darker feelings pick at the edges. Anaiya doesn’t swat them back, letting them attach to the memory and grow.
Frustration and envy shatter in her mind at the memory of Niamh’s athletic superiority and irritation grates at his imperiousness and egotism. Rage simmers at the way he can so easily overlook her or dismiss her. And hurt, at the way he has so easily replaced her.
She swipes at the entrance panel by the Wild Rover’s door but it is only when the unnatural fluorescent light assaults her eyes that she realises she has arrived. Her brain switches into rational mode and tries in vain to recall disembarking the worm and walking through Precinct 13’s streets. But whatever latent memory she has of the journey is now obscured by the heavy shadow of her feelings for Niamh.
She glances around the izakaya, suddenly unprepared to see him again. The familiar spartan space is occupied by a typical mix of Fire Elementals. Its lack of colour and activity is stark in comparison to the Air Elemental izakayas of her new life. The difference distracts her and she doesn’t immediately notice how the other patrons are eyeing her.
As she works her way towards the bar, she senses the attention, and looks around. In each face, in the slight frowns and set jaws, is judgement. In some it is suspicion, in others disgust. Some are conspicuous, others less obvious; but they all let her know that she is not welcome there.
The realisation puts a stumble in her step and her posture becomes rigid under the weight of their collective focus. She wonders if it was the hint of amble in her gait, the loss of focus in her gaze, or the non-
utilitarian style of her threads that has triggered their assessment. And in wondering she becomes immediately self-conscious.
Gratefully, the Earth Bartender is oblivious to it all, and she quickly paces to the bar to order her drink.
“One dodeca,” she says, her voice straining and the skin on her neck prickling. She doesn’t let her eyes waver from the sight of him pouring the drink and, as soon as it is within her grasp, she downs it in three large gulps.
“Another,” she rasps, her throat thick with the synthetic alcohol.
The second one goes down slower and smoother, her body reacting to the heady cocktail of alcohol and enhancer. She waits a little longer, savouring the rush of courage and indifference flowing through her veins.
* * *
BY THE TIME Niamh arrives at the izakaya, Anaiya’s blood is buzzing with dodecahedrazine. He saunters in alone but is immediately captured by a loud group of Peacekeepers at the bar. Anaiya is too far away to hear the conversation, but she sees Niamh glance around the izakaya and watches as his companions turn their attention along the same trajectory.
A soft click sounds in her mind as his eyes meet hers. He nods to himself and turns back to the others. As expected, he doesn’t excuse himself straight away. Anaiya barks a short laugh to herself, remembering her recent spikes of irritation and rage at memories of this exact behaviour, and grateful for the dulled edges of her thoughts.
Ignoring the snub, she takes another sip of the dodeca before her and lets her eyes roam the room in search of some eye candy. The izakaya is fairly packed, with a strong showing of both male and female Fire Elementals, most between their fourth and seventh lustrum. Her eyes sweep from one to the next, scanning randomly for a face or physique that will seduce her from afar.
This should be easier.
And it is true. An inebriated state and a full izakaya of Fire Elementals in their prime present the perfect conditions for entering a state of lust. Yet, Anaiya keeps searching, finding the faces too harsh, the stances too rigid. Below the haze of the dodecas, a question starts to form in her mind, but before she can rescue it, her view is cut off.
“Find anything to your liking?” Niamh asks dryly.
Anaiya tilts her head to take in his presence, running her eyes up and down his body in a considered appraisal, re-acquainting herself with the details she had touched in a previous lifetime. She halts her inspection at his face, pausing at the crooked grin and knowing eyes.
“No,” she says, squarely meeting his gaze.
His smile falls brittle and his eyes glitter with the acceptance of a non-existent challenge, but he doesn’t speak and contents himself with settling into the seat next to her. Her view clear again, Anaiya returns to perusing the room.
“So,” Niamh says after a while. “Let’s finish our earlier conversation, shall we?”
“Which particular conversation did we leave unfinished?” Her voice is flat, singing with a lazy indifference.
“You hold little esteem for Jenna, no?”
The word “esteem” sounds discordant. It strikes her as strange that he has assessed her dislike of Jenna as disrespect, until she realises that dislike is a decidedly Air feeling.
“I hold little esteem for her amateur approach to complex missions that directly impact on my life.”
Niamh emits a heavy sigh, thick with exasperation. “We’re all on the same side, Ani. We all want to find and dismantle the Resistance, restore the Orthodoxy. And we all have a part to play.”
Anaiya isn’t in the mood for one of Niamh’s lectures or a detailed discussion about Jenna. “There are no problems between me and Jenna,” she says flatly.
“That’s not what she says.”
“Then maybe it’s Jenna with whom you should be having this conversation.”
Niamh does not counter and the two of them fall into an uneasy silence. Anaiya finishes her drink and finally gives up on searching for some visual distractions.
“Another?”
The voice belongs to her favourite Niamh. The Niamh from her earliest memories of him, where they were equals and could lose hours in simple pleasures and playful challenges. She knows the reappearance will be brief and that Niamh will resort to his normal superiority and hubris, but she allows herself to ignore the inevitable, if only for a moment.
“Another.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Anaiya makes her move to depart. A group of Fire Elementals has since crowded the small table she shares with Niamh, jostling the conversation between themselves. Anaiya touches Niamh on the elbow, catching his attention and interrupting the competitive dialogue.
“I’m out of here,” she says, standing up to vacate her seat.
Niamh halts his train of speech and excuses himself from the group. “I’ll see you out,” he says, standing up beside her.
Anaiya shrugs and leads the way through the izakaya to the exit. As she reaches the door, Niamh pulls at her arm, dragging her to a spot against the adjacent wall.
“I’ve missed you, Ani,” he says unexpectedly, his words syrupy with dodeca.
Anaiya rolls her eyes at him, dismissing the sentiment despite hearing the truth in his voice. Niamh chuckles softly, his hand reaching up to play with errant strands of hair falling around her face. “Our fires had a good compatibility,” he says, fingers flicking around her face, raising shivers along her skin. “And no one else does that thing…”
Of course he was talking about the sex. With Fire Elementals there were no deeper feelings, no complex attachments.
His eyes drill into hers, forcing her to see and acknowledge the desire in them. He leans in close until his lips are brushing against her earlobe. “Come back to my place,” he whispers.
Anaiya disentangles herself from his grasp. Her eyes return his gaze, her own will projecting deeply into his. Time shudders into a lower gear and the world shrinks.
“I have to go,” she says. And without waiting to see his response, she pulls away and exits the izakaya.
The air is cooler outside, the light softer. Anaiya’s footsteps fall comfortably on the bitumen and her heart beats a calm tempo. She is unhurried on her approach to the worm station and the journey rings clear in her consciousness. Despite all the conflicting emotions Anaiya still holds for Niamh, her need to be wanted by him is no longer one of them.
TWENTY-TWO
THE RABID DOG is more subdued than Anaiya expects when she steps into its music-filled belly. A few individuals hover at the bar and a handful of small groups occupy the lounges and tables scattered around the izakaya.
“Anaiya!”
Cress waves to her from a table close to the door, standing to grab Anaiya’s attention. Her three companions swivel in their seats to regard Anaiya and she braces herself for the same judgement that confronted her at the Wild Rover, but they merely smile in greeting and turn back to their conversation.
“Come join us!”
Anaiya smiles too. “I’ll just grab a drink.”
The effects of the dodecahedrazine have largely worn off, the chemical’s soft and scratchy fuzziness now faded and faint. Stepping up to the bar she orders a low-level paramethylate, something that will file away the edges of her thoughts while keeping her alert and focussed. The Earth bartender busies herself with the order and Anaiya turns her back to lean against the bar and survey the room.
More Elementals are entering the izakaya and the noise level is picking up. The mellow music track ends and a more chaotic sound of fuzzy wails and off beats introduces the next tune. Anaiya connects her lifeline jack to the sound terminal and downloads the track.
“You like it?” a deep voice asks beside her.
Anaiya glances to her left, encountering familiar grey eyes shining in the bright bar lights.
“Yeah,” she replies to Eamon. “Yours?”
He shakes his head, his hand pushing back the sheaves of bronze hair and scratching the stubble at his jawline.
“No, I’m just keen to
download it next,” he says grinning. “I like the bass line.”
The music terminal promptly clicks as it ejects Anaiya’s lifeline and she moves aside to let Eamon insert his own. The bartender hands over her parameth and she plays with the glass while she assesses Eamon. He leans casually on the bar, showing no signs of recognising her.
Why would he? It’s not like he’s just come from a Sec Level 5 briefing with my face lighting up a wallscreen…
“You here for the spoken word?” he asks, looking up at her.
Vibrancy and energy and vitality seem to pour from his skin. He doesn’t fidget or issue rapid-fire conversation, there is no nervous energy or barely restrained hyperactivity skimming along his skin. But the glitter in his eyes and the pure expression on his face are irrepressible…and contagious.
“Yeah. You?” she asks, taking a sip of her drink.
“I am,” he confirms. “If you’re not here with anyone, you should join us.”
His lifeline is ejected from the sound terminal and another track fades in. He turns to face Anaiya, absently wrapping his lifeline around the cuff on his left hand. Charm and charisma radiate from him, qualities not visible in the two-dimensional photograph that flashed on Jenna’s wallscreen.
“I’m catching up with someone,” she says, indicating the direction of Cress’s table with a tilt of her head. “But maybe later?”
“Later, then,” he says, still smiling.
Anaiya turns to make her way across the room to Cress’s table when his hand shoots out to grab her arm. It is not the action itself that surprises her – as a Peacekeeper, any unannounced contact would have ended with a sprained wrist, broken fingers, or worse. She turns back around; a simple movement, unaffected and calm. A second later her neocortex kicks in with the fight response, surging adrenalin to her limbs, but the moment has passed. She faces Eamon, who remains oblivious to her racing thoughts.
Resistance: Divided Elements (Book 1) Page 18
