by Astrid Amara
Tover shrugged. “Curious, that’s all.” He pocketed the data drive. “Thank you.”
He and Jade discussed the schedule for an interview before Tover had to rush to make his appointment with Delia Yu. He answered her questions curtly and worked with her on the breathing exercises, but he wasn’t fully engaged and she could tell.
As soon as he returned home he booted up the data on Zoya and reviewed everything Jade had provided. Most of the material was from her own sources, detailing the cutting-edge journalism she specialized in, and her objective stance on political issues that made her famous for honesty.
As he examined her record, he saw why Cruz had chosen to go to her, not the least of which being that she was one of only two independent newscasters with offices on Carida itself. The rest were subsidiaries of Exclusive, a broadcasting corporation under the Harmony family of companies.
Little about Zoya’s life and career hinted toward any reason why her Carida expose would go unpublished.
Except for the fact that her husband was a Harmony executive.
Rage built inside him as he researched Rustam Rakhmanov’s CV. Tover’s access to Harmony employee files revealed that Zoya’s husband was the Chief Operations Officer for Purchasing for Harmony’s entire Makati and Port Matthius branches.
Zoya had a stellar reputation as an honest, objective reporter willing to investigate every scandal, no matter how politically hot. But perhaps when it hit this close to home, she was willing to shut the story down?
Tover missed Cruz, completely and terribly. His suite seemed so barren without the prospect of ever entertaining his lover there again. He missed the smells of him, he even missed arguing with him. And he wished he could talk to him now, warn him about Zoya’s possible duplicity if Cruz hadn’t figured it out already.
The following morning, Samantha from the Samantha Show personally got in touch with Jade to discuss the terms of Tover’s interview. Tover agreed to talk about the role of navigators now and in the future, the importance of deep-space cargo movements to exploration and scientific endeavor, and he would touch briefly on his kidnapping. But he insisted that he would not discuss details regarding his incarceration.
Once the network agreed to Tover’s terms, the shares quickly transferred to his new account and the interview time was set. Tover saw the promotional hype on every channel on his media screen. The images they used of his face were from dated mediafiles. He wondered if the shock of seeing his appearance now, even with his neck repaired, would be close to the one he felt the first time looking in Cruz’s mirror.
Tover arrived in the network studio of DK Station early, flanked by his security guards, but already a collection of reporters from rival networks gathered outside the studio to catch him. Once indoors, employees of the studio gave him the royal treatment, offering beverages, ushering him to the faux-leather couch of the studio set, taking any last-minute food requests.
He was nervous, yet another sign that he was no longer the same man he used to be. The only thing he used to ever worry about was the embarrassing croak in his voice. But the insecurities he’d once felt regarding his voice had vanished. What did it matter, what his voice sounded like? They should see my x-rays.
At last Samantha herself appeared. She was a cool, attractive woman in her midfifties with black-enhanced hair and bright, sparkling eyes. She wore a professional-looking classic suit made of some synthetic material that gave off a matte, absorbing appearance. No doubt it was designed for the intense light of the studio environment.
Samantha shook Tover’s hand and sat on the other end of the couch from him while assistants clipped small mics to her and Tover.
He wiped his palms on the tops of his thighs. He was sweating.
At Samantha’s signal, the entire room lit up and floating holocams circled, dozens of them, capturing each angle and sending remote feeds to a bank of consoles at the back of the large room.
Samantha gave her standard introduction to the special interview, then smiled and welcomed Tover back to DK Station. As promised, Samantha began the discussion on the topic of the future of navigation. Tover offered his opinions, but the topic soon moved off the dangers of navigating in general and to being a navigator.
And before Tover caught on, she asked about what happened to him. He answered her questions curtly, keeping his eyes away from the cams. He explained how he was forced to work for the Jarrow, and described how Pulmon Verde rescued him.
“So even though they were your captors, they came to your aide?” Samantha asked, clearly fascinated by this.
“The Jarrow had stolen evidence that is critical to the future health of Carida,” Tover explained. “The Pulmon Verde were desperate, so they traded me. It was only for a short time, though, and I spent the rest of the last few months recuperating under Pulmon Verde care.”
It wasn’t entirely true, but Tover didn’t want this to hurt Cruz.
Samantha looked appropriately shocked. “I’ve never heard of such deplorable treatment for someone as esteemed as a navigator before.” She shook her head. “How did that make you feel?”
“How did it make me feel?” Tover grimaced. “How do you think it made me feel?” He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Look. What the Pulmon Verde did was wrong, but the Jarrow were worse.”
“Where are they now?” Samantha asked. “The men who hurt you?”
“The ones directly responsible are dead,” Tover said.
“They were killed when the Pulmon Verde stole you back?”
Tover didn’t mention that he was the one to have shot Savel. He’d thought back on that incident several times, and although he knew a decent man would feel remorse at having taken another’s life, he didn’t. He felt nothing but gratitude that Cruz had let him take vengeance himself.
But he said none of this.
Samantha continued with a new question. “What were the Pulmon Verde plans with you after they recaptured you?”
“I wasn’t recaptured, I was rehabilitated,” Tover tried to explain, but Samantha interrupted.
“They took you back. Were you free to leave their care?”
“Not at first, but—”
“So you were once again their prisoner.”
Tover shook his head. “The thing is, the Pulmon Verde, what they are fighting for, is just.”
Samantha looked over at her sound engineer. They both seemed to communicate something silently.
“What?” Tover asked, narrowing his eyes.
Samantha smiled. “Have you ever heard of the Stockholm Syndrome, Navigator?”
Tover frowned. “Yes. But…but that’s not what this is. Look, terraforming Carida is going to kill the local population! It’s going to destroy the natural habitat and the people are in grave danger. It’s all recorded on the—”
“The definition of Stockholm Syndrome describes how captives sympathize and think well of their captors.”
“This is different,” Tover said, although something in his stomach clenched with anxiety. “I’m not defending what they did to me. What they did was wrong. But I understand why Cruz found it necessary to—”
“Cruz? You’re on a first-name basis with the man who sold you into slavery?”
“It wasn’t his idea!” The resounding silence as a response showed him what a ridiculous thing he’d said.
He closed his mouth.
She was right, wasn’t she? He was delusional. He had been from the start. He should have killed Cruz the first moment he returned to break Tover free of the Jarrow. It didn’t matter that Cruz saved him. It had been Cruz who put him in danger in the first place.
So forget Cruz. But what about Lourdes? The only thing disreputable she’d ever done was raise a terrorist.
And she got shot for it.
Tover shook his head. He knew the cameras focused on him.
“Cruz,” she said again. She glanced at her wristpad. “Is that Cruz Arcadio, the spy caught re-entering DK Station after a warrant for his arrest had been issued?”
Tover swallowed but didn’t admit anything.
“Now that the peacekeepers have arrested him, will you testify at his trial?”
Tover was surprised by that. “They captured him?”
“Will you testify?”
“They have him on Carida?” Tover demanded.
Samantha nodded. “He’s scheduled to be transferred to the station here and on to Great Arland for corporate espionage, kidnapping, human trafficking and murder.”
Samantha said something further but Tover no longer listened. Cruz was coming to the station. He would be here, somewhere in this complex of cells and gates.
And what was Tover going to do about it? Plenty of evidence existed against Cruz, but nothing to support his claims. Whatever had happened to Cruz’s news story couldn’t be good. Tover couldn’t help him.
Tover pulled the mic from his shirt and stood. He was getting used to the sight of stunned faces.
“This interview is over.” He left the studio.
Chapter Eighteen
“Tover. I’d like to think we’ve become friends over the years.”
Tover stared into the eyes of Peter Owens, his boss, who was clearly drunk as he sat across from Tover at the restaurant.
It had been Peter’s pick, a Mexican place with a menu that reminded Tover of Ana’s cooking yet shared none of the freshness or flavor. The meal didn’t taste like someone cared about it when they made it.
Tover and Peter had made the dinner arrangement days prior, when it was supposed to be a meal to celebrate Tover’s end of sick leave and return to work.
But rather than going to work that morning, Tover had instead submitted an electronic letter of resignation.
It hadn’t been a hasty decision. He’d debated it endlessly those last forty-eight hours, plagued by indecision and fear. But he wasn’t ready to return to work, not yet. Even Delia had known it, though she hadn’t expressed her opinion outright.
He submitted the letter that morning. It stated he wouldn’t return to the navigator’s chair until he was mentally ready.
He had expected a response.
But there had been nothing, other than a confirmation from Peter’s secretary that they would be meeting at El Agave. When Tover showed up with his security team, Peter was already there, half in the bag.
“I think of you as a friend,” Peter continued, eyes heavy, swinging his margarita glass a little precariously over the table.
Tover ordered a third pina colada. He felt a definite buzz but wasn’t nearly as plastered as his boss, who interspersed his cocktails with shots of tequila.
“I don’t know what you think of me,” Peter said. “I thought we got along well, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did,” Tover replied. “Still do. I like you, Peter. My decision to quit has nothing to do with you.”
“But it has everything to do with me, doesn’t it?” Peter slurred. He put his glass on the table. “Because now you’ve put me in this very uncomfortable position.”
“There’s nothing uncomfortable about this. I know the terms of my contract. I know I’m losing my suite, and that I have to reimburse Harmony. I’m all right with that.”
Peter swallowed. He looked about to cry. “No. The thing is, Tover, we can’t let you go. You are too important to us. I’ve been instructed to offer you a raise.”
“I don’t want more money, I—”
“I know. That’s why I’m upset.” Peter smiled weakly. “If I knew you wanted more money, this would be easy. But I know you want out, and out is the only thing I can’t offer you.”
Tover felt a current of anger ignite. “Too bad. It’s what I’m doing.”
“This is out of my hands now. I hate it, buddy, I really do. I honestly like you…” Peter closed his eyes. He sighed into his drink and took a sip. “So this is going to suck for all of us.”
“What is?”
“Harmony called in their special negotiations team,” Peter said at last.
Tover almost laughed. “What are they going to do, negotiate me to death?” He shook his head. “They can try whatever they want. I won’t be forced back into a job that currently gives me nightmares to even think about. I’m not saying I won’t navigate for Harmony ever again. This is merely a leave of absence.”
Peter shook his head. “There are no leaves of absence for navigators. Without you, we’re lost.”
“There are others.”
“Not improvisational navigators,” Peter said. “Not enough. They’re sending the negotiators, and I’m being forced out.”
Tover’s eyebrows came together. “What? I lost you your job?”
Peter smiled then. “No, just got me a transfer. I’m being moved to Markerport.”
Tover grimaced. Markerport was an isolated, cultureless outpost in the middle of nowhere. Without navigational movements, it would take Peter weeks to get anywhere.
“I’m sorry,” Tover said, and he meant it. “I didn’t want my actions to hurt anyone else.”
“Don’t be sorry for me. Be sorry for yourself. I fucking hate the negotiators. That’s no way to treat employees, you know what I mean? You did so much for us, and I…” He closed his eyes again.
Tover leaned forward, alarm bells ringing in his head. “What do you mean, no way to treat an employee? Who the fuck are these negotiators?”
But Peter had put his head in his hands.
Tover didn’t finish his meal. When the bill came, he tried to pay but Peter woke up and swiped his wristpad over the table angrily.
“My treat! I told you. Last favor I can do for you.” He stumbled as he rose from his chair. Tover moved to help him and was surprised when Peter gave him a hug. “Listen. Whatever happens, I want you to know I mean it when I say it was an honor working with you. Don’t forget that, Tover. There are good people too.”
“Should I get out of here?” Tover whispered. “Am I in danger?”
Peter’s eyes were wet with unshed tears. He glanced over his shoulder, spotted Tover’s security team hovering in the restaurant foyer, and swallowed. “No, no. Of course not.” He shook Tover’s hand, pulling him close. He whispered in his ear again. “But if you ever did choose to leave, stay away from CTASA ports and outposts.”
And on that ominous note, he left Tover, nothing but a backward wave to say goodbye.
Back in his hotel rooms, alone and slightly drunk, Tover called the Lizard Lounge.
He wasn’t looking for a trick, but a specific client, one man in particular. It took numerous transfers through Tover’s connections at the discreet club to get the number of Yves Cardin, a technical-systems repairman for Harmony who Tover had once hooked up with a couple years ago. It took even more effort to convince Yves to come over to Tover’s suite once he did make contact. Yves was apparently now in a monogamous relationship with another man in the electrical department, and seemed to find it hard to believe that Tover was only interested in a social call.
But after Tover practically begged, Yves gave in, joining Tover at two in the morning, station time.
Yves was a bull of a man, all hair and muscle, and at one point Tover had found his masculine, overbearing presence nearly irresistible.
Tonight, however, his thoughts were exclusively for Cruz.
“I need your help breaking some password codes on my wristpad,” Tover said, lowering
his voice to a whisper. He normally wasn’t quite so paranoid in his own suites, but Peter’s demeanor at dinner had spooked him.
If Yves wondered why they were whispering, he didn’t say. “Who’s wristpad is it?” he asked.
“Mine,” Tover lied. “But I set the passcodes on one of my mediafiles while high, and now I can’t recall it for the life of me.”
“There are protocol backup systems with your server,” Yves stated dully, clearly restraining from rolling his eyes. Anyone with basic technical knowledge should have known that.
But Tover didn’t have the authorization to release those passcode overrides.
“I got the wristpad during my incarceration,” Tover explained, trying to keep his fiction as close to truth as possible. “It was a reward from one of the pirates.” He didn’t have to fake the bitterness in his tone. “I doubt that the server the files are housed on is anywhere legal.”
Yves reached out his hand for the wristpad, and Tover handed it to him. If Tover could get the file unlocked, he could break the news story. It could help Cruz’s case when he transferred to the station detention center.
Yves pulled a holoscreen from his bag and swiped through the mist to open it. He rested the wristpad atop the screen and began manipulating files and security regulations on options that appeared on the display. Tover offered Yves a beer, and Yves took it, glancing furtively over at Tover as he took a sip.
“I’m sorry, man.” Yves said. “About what happened to you, I mean. I saw the interview.”
Tover nodded but said nothing. He hadn’t watched the final cut of the interview, although from what he’d pieced together from comments around himself, Samantha had edited out his abrupt termination of their interview.
“You going back to work?” Yves asked.
“I don’t think so,” Tover said.
Yves looked surprised but didn’t stop working on the wristpad. After a few minutes, he handed it back to Tover. “Here you go. Passcodes wiped. Make sure to set new ones you’ll remember.”
“Thanks.” Tover smiled brightly, and Yves’s expression changed.
“Was that really all you wanted to see me for?”
