by K. T. Hanna
“Then those who count know, right?”
Domino nods and pauses to look at her. “Thank you. I should apologize that Mele is currently not ready for use.”
“Mele?”
“My transport. She’s like me.” A smile plays at the corner of his mouth as he maneuvers the vehicle into the lanes of traffic speeding past. “It’ll take a few hours to get there. There’s a file in your bag on the trader we’re visiting. UC 8 lies on the outskirts and undertakes trading on a regular basis. Often with, ‘shady people’ I believe the term is. GNW usually overlooks certain aspects of the trades because they do acquire things that are of utmost necessity.”
“But?” Sai prompts him.
“But not everything is, and trying to trade pure Shine to anyone not within the United Conglomerate is punishable.”
“It should be,” Sai replies hotly. Images of half-eaten food rescued from trash cans when her parents forgot to feed her dance in front of her eyes.
Dom considers her for a moment. “He’s lucky they’re sending you and not Bastian.”
Sai blinks her mind back into focus. “Why would they send Bastian?”
Dom raises an eyebrow, this time mimicking the human gesture in an eerily perfect way. “How else do you think someone so young is in the position he’s in?”
“I thought he was born into it.” Sai can hear the bitterness in her voice. Her own childhood is a black mark on her memory. Born poor to Shine addicts. Until she blew up her home, Sai never even tried to imagine living in Central.
The lower your block number, the higher your station. Working up isn’t an option, not from that far down. She tries not to stare out the windows at the flashes of substandard living that pale even against her own past. Soon they’ll be on the sky lane and coast most of the way to their destination. It’s difficult to push down the growing excitement, and she fidgets. Never having been on a sky lane before, Sai’s only ever seen them in pictures or heard about them. Checkpoints that allow the hovercraft to travel at a higher altitude as long as they keep to the height dictated by the adrium-enforced steel towers that track the vehicles.
She notices Dom watching her. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, Bastian might have been born with station, but he was barely eighteen when his father died. He had to fight to take his inheritance.” Dom swerves to avoid a human crawling out onto the road, clutching at a piece of paper as it flits out of his reach. Anger and wonder war in his eyes as the elusive and empty packet escapes his grasp. Shine addiction and the hollow realities it creates. Sai tightens her fists.
“You haven’t answered why they would send him.” She tries to unclench her teeth, but her words end up coming out angry anyway.
“They only send Bastian when there’s no more hope, when eradication is the only option. He’s far too busy for little tasks now, which is why he’s been spending time with you.”
“Eradication?”
“You’ve heard the rumors about the Eliminator?”
Sai nods at him.
“Well, you’ve been training with him for almost two months.”
Something inside Sai goes cold, and she begins to sweat. “I thought that was some scary story they told the kids at the facilities.”
Dom shakes his head. She clamps down her shields and refuses to glance out the windows. All she can think of is how close she’s been working with Death himself. If she ever steps out of line, they’ve got her right where they want her. She would disappear without a trace.
Try as she might, she can’t bring herself to hate him.
Sai isn’t used to the respect she’s shown upon their arrival in UC 8. She follows their eyes and notices why. Her clothes, she realizes belatedly, have the GNW Eye embroidered into them. Its letters swirl together with the same metallic effect the dominos have.
The inn they spend the rest of the night at is comfortable, more comfortable than any bed she’s ever slept in, although the eggs in the morning look suspiciously like the ones she argues with on a daily basis back at the facility.
After breakfast, they make their way to the Enforcement Offices. The head of law enforcement in the city greets her. Dom says his name is Artold. She can’t help notice the severe lack of regard Dom receives from everyone, but doesn’t let it get in the way of her job. Control, just like Bastian taught her. She reinforces her shields, puts a neutral expression on her face, and allows Artold to lead her into their offices.
“McDearny is one of our finest traders, ma’am,” the man assures her as he reaches across his desk for a reader.
Sai interrupts him. “I’ve read the reports and seen the recorded evidence. If more has come to light in the last twenty-four hours, I’d be happy to view it. Otherwise we’re just wasting time.” Her heart is in her throat, unused to such authority.
“Sorry, ma’am.” Artold blushes with embarrassment. “This way, if you’ll follow me. We have him in the holding cell.”
Holding cell? She finds herself glancing at Dom, seeking some sort of help, but people have moved in front of him, ignoring him, and it irks her. “Excuse me, I need my partner up where he can help, thank you.” She manages to say the whole sentence without a single nervous stutter. If only her parents could see her now.
“Of course.” Artold motions people to make room. “We detained McDearny early yesterday morning. He’s ready for your questioning.”
“Thank you. We can take it from here.” What would Bastian do? How would Bastian phrase things? Constant questions run through her mind. Sai waits until Artold gets the hint and backs himself and his dithering crew out of the area.
Sai lets out a pent-up breath and eyes the lone figure on the concrete bench in the cell. Its metal bars gleam black in the dim light—another remnant from before the meteors fell. The observations calm her before she speaks. “Do you know why I’m here?” she asks, her tone soft with genuine curiosity.
The man nods, probably because he can’t speak without pain considering the bruises and swelling all up the side of his nose, lips, and cheekbones. She watches him and sees the wariness in his eyes, the distrust in the hunched shoulders, and the way he’s pulled himself back so far it looks like he’s trying to sink through the wall.
And she bets that, if she listens, he’s screaming silently in his head.
She sighs. “You were caught trading Shine over the GNW United Conglomerate’s protected borders.”
“Isth wathn’t illegal.” He mouths the words distinctly, wincing with each syllable.
“The trading of Shine between two legally licensed facilities or individuals is not illegal, McDearny, but people from outside the UC are not licensed in any way. They fall under street trading.” It’s not like they were visitors from other continents. Tourism after the Disaster Era has been shaky at best. Anyone outside the borders are Exiled rebels. Even the smallest child knows that. She shakes her head and he starts to speak frantically.
“Hesh had ishd!”
“He had...identification?” The man nods, relief on his mangled face as he realizes she understood him. “This wasn’t mentioned in the report.”
McDearny scowls—at least, she thinks he does. It’s hard to tell.
“I see.” So it had been mentioned when they caught him but conveniently left out of the actual report. She glances at him. “You realize there’s only one way I can know if you’re telling the truth, right?”
He nods at her again, his eyes bright and clear, trying to hide his fear. She unlocks the cell door with Dom close behind and kneels in front of the man. A memory sift without touch is possible, but she prefers eye contact if it’s an option.
His mind is open to her, as open as anyone she chooses to visit. Carefully she leafs through his memories, shying away from the beatings received so recently, and finds the identification. He’s correct, but he isn’t. What she sees is someone making him believe the person he was trading with was sanctioned to do so. The man can’t be blamed for not possessi
ng a dormant gene. At least that would have afforded him minor protection from being duped. She records it herself to file into the report on the way home and stands, releasing McDearny’s mind.
“You’re free to go.” She touches the cuffs binding his wrists, unlocking them with a thought, and steps away as they clatter to the ground. Even without looking at the man, she knows there’s fear in his eyes. Mind and memory-sifting are part of why the GNW keep such a tight rein on psionics, even though not everyone can perform it.
“Reimburse him.” She gestures to Dom and rubs her temples for a moment, staving off a reaction headache. Bastian may have drilled her in techniques, but she last truly used it while she was still Fifty-Two. Just like everything else, the less she uses it, the more it tasks her to do so. While the practicing made mind matter seem sluggish, the real thing is like a million goopy balls firing at your head and you have to catch and hold onto the right one. She makes a mental note to practice more.
Her head is already pounding, and she closes her eyes for a moment to lean against the cool wall. The reaction headache shouldn’t be too bad as long as she can get her hands on...
Dom nudges her shoulder at that exact moment and holds out his hand, dropping two tiny clear pills into her own.
She smiles at him and takes the offered water. “Thanks. I don’t want to stay here longer than necessary.” She scans the holding area and shakes her head, pushing the images of McDearny’s beating out of her mind. “I think they were just excited to find someone not Shined out.” She sighs and looks away from Dom, her own memories warring for attention in her mind.
“I know. We’ll have to warn the captain for not adhering to protocol.” Dom’s voice is softer than usual, like he’s being considerate of her head.
“Can we wait a few minutes?” Sai massages her temples slowly.
“Of course.” Dom grabs one of the readers out of their packs. “I’m not a monster, you know.”
“Why, Dom, did you just crack a joke?”
“Me?” He blinks at her. “Not capable. Sorry.”
If Sai didn’t know better, she’d swear there was a twinkle in one of his golden eyes. She tries to breathe deeply and let her calm facade take over again. How Bastian manages to stay so collected on a regular basis is beyond her.
“I’m not cut out for this,” she mutters before opening her eyes.
“You’re perfectly cut out for this.”
“Thanks,” she says dryly, not meaning it at all. “All right, call him in.”
Artold is ushered in and stands at ease, facing them.
“I wonder—do you not have a psionic on staff?” Sai remains seated, not confident enough of her energy levels to stand.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then why didn’t you use them?”
He seems confused. “Excuse me?”
“Why did you ignore the broker’s claims of seeing valid identification?” Sai finds her patience far thinner than she realized. She just wants to get out and away from people who act first and don’t think at all.
“There were no agents registered to buy the substance yesterday. The clinics are meticulously controlled. We oversee the coming and going of all quantities in their prescribed formats.”
“McDearny does not have access to this database, correct?” Artold shakes his head, and Sai continues. “And so, it would be perfectly acceptable of him to take identification shown to him at face value and simply think he was making a legitimate trade?”
“Well, yes, but no one was...”
“I’m aware the ID wasn’t real, but the point is McDearny couldn’t know that. You should have had his memories checked instead of wasting our time by dragging us here to discipline a man who didn’t deserve it. Nor did he deserve the beating he very clearly got at the hands of your subordinates.” She holds her hand up at his protest. “Don’t dig the pit deeper than you already have.”
At his bewildered expression, Sai taps her head. “Got it all, right in here.” She glances at Dom, who hands her a reader, and peruses the document he’s prepared, more grateful than ever that she’s not alone. “I think this sums it up. You’ll be reprimanded and the replacement of the goods we reimbursed the broker for will be taken out of any bonus you receive up until it is paid for. I suggest you patrol your city borders better and pay more attention to the laws that govern us all.”
Artold bows his head, sweat beading his brow. The man knows he got off lightly. Sai can tell it in the way his heart beats fast with relief.
“Thank you,” he says and the words are probably the most sincere he’s ever muttered.
She ignores him and stands. “We’ll be on our way now. I’d say it was nice meeting you, but I’d be lying. Instead, let’s hope we don’t meet again soon.” She turns away from the man, following Dom as he guides her out of the enforcement headquarters of UC 8.
Sai holds her head high and makes sure every step she takes is full of the confidence she borrowed from observing Bastian. Not until they’re inside the transport does she let her knees give way to the weariness she feels inside. She’s surprised how soft the carpet in the transport is and is only distracted from its texture when Dom closes the door behind him.
“Are they all that easy?” she asks without looking up.
“No. Usually they’re a lot more involved than that.”
She twists a piece of dark hair around her finger, studying it intently. “I see.” She falls silent, trying to sort out the thoughts in her mind.
“You did well, Sai,” Dom says.
She looks up at him. “I felt like a fraud. Like they’d know at any given moment I’m just a sixteen-year-old punk who’s nervous as hell.”
He cocks his head to one side and watches her for a moment. Sai chalks yet another movement up to his human side. “You mimicked Bastian.”
Sai can feel the heat rising in her cheeks, and glances away.
“Very good call,” is all Dom says before moving to the driver’s seat. “Home, then?”
“Yeah,” Sai says, lying back on the plush pile of the floor carpeting. It feels warm and safe. She closes her eyes. “Let’s go home.”
The floor is harder than expected underneath her when she opens her eyes, and for a few seconds she panics that everything was a dream and she’s back on the streets where she’s been all along. She relaxes as soon as Dom speaks.
“We’re almost there. I thought you might want to get the sleep out of your eyes.”
She grins and pulls herself upright, ignoring the dull throb in her head from the mind-sifting. “Forget human, Dom. Now you’re showing your feminine side.”
“Sometimes, Sai,” he mutters, imitating one of her tones perfectly, “you can be downright insulting.”
She closes her mouth to keep from gaping at him. “Adaptive? Lightning speed, I say.”
“I wish that were true.” For a moment a shadow settles over his expression, and he fidgets. “I was born this size. I’ve been adapting for a long time.”
He has a point. She watches him intently for a moment. From the smooth lines of his reflective skin, only a mimicry of the human version, down to the silky fingers that grip the console tightly. The realization hits her out of nowhere and she whispers the words. “You can be anything, can’t you?”
His hands settle and the tapped beat stops. “I can be anything, within reason, that my mind feels comfortable with.”
At first she says nothing, but chews on her lip a bit as thoughts race through her head, and then she smiles. “I’m just glad you’re you.”
When his lip quirks up at the corners, Sai stretches and goes into the small back compartment to change into a fresh set of clothes, stopping for only a second to admire the insignia. She feels the transport stop and frowns as she comes out of the cubicle. “That was cutting it close.”
Dom moves from the pilot seat and shrugs his shoulders. “You almost overdid it. Common sense dictates that unless it’s a case of extreme emergency, I let y
ou sleep. As no rabid rabbits tried to attack us, I decided you were in no imminent danger.”
“Rabid... He told you?”
“No one tells me anything. I don’t know what you mean.”
As she follows Dom out of the transport, she decides that dominos are not fair creatures at all. No one should have such control over their facial expressions. It’s inhuman.
He stops when they get back to the main corridor and frowns for a second.
“We’re a day early. He told us to report back immediately.” He takes the left-hand corridor instead of the right.
Sai is silent all the way to Bastian’s office, mulling things over in her head as she follows Dom. She wants to make sure she gets her wording perfect. There are so many ways the situation could have been misread, but she’s certain she was meticulous and has Dom to back her up if there’s any question.
Dom stands at the twin doors and frowns again. He steps back a foot and places his right hand on the door. A brief shimmer surrounds it and a faint hum echoes in her ears, after which the door swings inward, reminding Sai that dominos have an affinity for metal.
He takes three steps into the room, before stopping abruptly.
“Dammit.” She hears him swear under his breath, something she’s sure he’s never done around her before.
“What is it?” she asks, pushing panic down.
“Nothing. We should come back tomorrow.”
“What?” Sai extends her senses, trying to catch a glimpse of what might be wrong and blanches. Bastian is there, but he feels wrong, ill. “No.” She pushes against Dom. “We have to help him.”
“You can’t help him right now.”
“Be damned if I can’t!” She raises her voice and shoves at him both physically and mentally, catching Dom off-guard. Sai walks past him, focused on where her head says Bastian is, not on what she can see. Her path takes her through something she never realized was a doorway and into a room that must be Bastian’s private quarters.
