Rules of Conflict

by Kristine Smith

  Discharge came one week later. John and Val, who had made themselves scarce since Jani’s blowup with John, were nowhere to be seen. Morley helped her pack, while Roger lectured her on diet and the need to take it easy. In order to stave off the heart attack he’d threatened her with for weeks, she relented and accepted his offer to carry her full-kit duffel. When he staggered under its weight, she took it back and told him to stop being silly.

  Friesian waited for her in the lobby. To Jani’s surprise, Hals stood next to him. They both wore dress blue-greys; Friesian held a bouquet of mixed colonial blooms that looked suspiciously like those growing around the buildings in North Lakeside.

  “Remember what I said about a table in the lobby?” He handed her the flowers, then pulled a sheaf of papers from the documents case that rested on the floor at his feet. “I was being optimistic.” He handed her the papers along with a stylus, then turned around. “Sign the bottom of pages one, four, and twelve, then touch the fingertips of your right hand to the sensor square at the bottom of page twenty.”

  Jani handed the flowers to Hals and dropped her bag to the floor. Using Friesian’s back as the table, she wrote the coda to her Service career. “Any surprises?” She tapped him on the shoulder to indicate she had finished and handed the documents back to him.

  “Nope. It’s just like I told you.” He slid the papers into a Service courier envelope, returned them to the case, then handed the case to a mainline lieutenant who had appeared out of nowhere. “Your first pension payment will be deposited into a general account at the Service Bank by month’s end,” he said as the lieutenant departed. “Go to any branch in the city to arrange transfer to your own account.”

  “Take your shooter badge,” Hals added with a grin. “They’ll give you two tickets to a Cubs game.”

  As Jani shouldered her duffel, she caught sight of another full kit resting beside the lobby sofa. “Whose is that?”

  Friesian held a hand to his heart. “I’m shipping out. In two hours, I catch the shuttle to Luna, then the Reina Amalia back to Constanza. There’s already a new brief waiting for me on board.”

  “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry,” Hals said softly. “The lawyer shortage at colonial bases is a well-known fact.”

  The three of them stared over one another’s heads and struggled to keep the smiles off their faces.

  Friesian broke away to the sofa and gathered his gear. Then they walked out into the burning afternoon. A steel blue four-seater hovered in the Ten Minute oval in front of the hospital. Friesian raised a hand; the officer behind the wheel waved in response.

  “My ride is here already. Imagine that.” He offered Hals a sharp salute. “Colonel. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  “Likewise, Major.” Hals saluted in return. “Safe trip.”

  Friesian turned to Jani, and held out his hand. “It’s been . . .”

  “Yeah.” Jani laughed. “Sorry for all the excitement.”

  “Maybe in a few years, when the dust has settled, we can hook up. Have a good, long talk.”

  “Sure.” Jani agreed easily to a meeting she knew would never take place. Time would interfere. Distance. Or most likely, sweet reason. Friesian would realize that he didn’t want to know what he didn’t know.

  She waved to him one last time as his vehicle skimmed out of the oval. “I wonder what’s waiting for him on Luna?”

  “A nice attempted murder, he said.” Hals frowned. “He may have been joking.” She adjusted her brimmed lid and led Jani to a rent-a-scoot stand.

  Jani glanced back toward the hospital. Through the tinted scanglass, she could see Niall Pierce standing in the lobby window, dressed in pajamas, his bathrobe wrapped tightly around him. She hesitated, then raised her hand in farewell. He kept his hands buried in his robe pockets; she could feel his eyes follow her as she boarded the scoot, and it pulled away.

  “I’m sorry none of us made it in to see you the past few weeks,” Hals said as she steered along the path.

  Jani broke the code of that remark. “How is Burkett?”

  Hals grinned. She seemed more relaxed now. Her shoulders had unclenched, and her hand rested easily on the steerbar. “He’s been surprisingly helpful. He arranged for everybody in FT to attend the weekly Diplo update meetings. And we’ll all attend Diplomacy School, which means we all wind up with Foreign Service entries in our records. Nice little notation, come promotion time.” She glanced at Jani. “He sends his regards, by the way. Trusts you’ll make yourself available for consultation once you’re settled.”

  “Tell him to get out his expense book. Advice from the Eyes and Ears will not come cheap.”

  “I think he knows that.” For the first time, the contentment left Hals’s face. “I could have used you here. Our interactions with the idomeni are going to get more and more complicated, and no one else here has your experience.”

  Jani glanced in the side mirror and watched the South Central Base recede from view. “You can handle the idomeni. As for me, well, I seem to encourage your unconventional side.”

  Hals nodded grudging agreement. “There is that.” She steered into the drop-off oval adjacent to the station. “What time is your train?”

  “Seventeen up.” Jani checked her timepiece. “Just enough time for me to buy a newssheet and something to eat.”

  Hals helped Jani with her gear, then ambled around the oval. “Speaking of which, if you could suggest any newssheets or periodicals we should subscribe to, I’d appreciate it.” She glanced down the stairs that led from the train platform down to the charge lot, and stopped. “Oh. My. God.”

  Jani hurried to the railing to find Lucien looking up at them from the middle of the half-empty lot. His hair glimmered in contrast to his black T-shirt. His beige trousers were tasteful, but fitted. Black sunshades covered his eyes. The skimmer he leaned against looked like an oil droplet in a stiff headwind, and cost more than the entire population of Base Command made in a month.

  Hals exhaled with a whistle. “Don’t tell me—that’s your nurse.” She shook her head in wide-eyed wonder. “Next time I have a day off, maybe we can meet for lunch. You can tell me Tsecha stories.” She sneaked another glance at Lucien. “And anything else you think needs an airing.”

  “Sure.” Jani smiled. “Thanks for calling my folks, Frances.”

  “No problem, Jani.” Hals gripped her shoulders in a quick hug. “Be seeing you.”

  Flowers in hand, feeling like an underdressed bride in her base casual tee and trousers, Jani descended toward the vision that awaited her.

  “Hello.” Lucien met her at the foot of the stairs. “I had the afternoon off. Thought you might need a ride into the city.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “I have my moments.” He tossed her duffel into the boot as though it weighed grams and not kilos, then helped her into the skimmer as though nursing actually was on the agenda.

  Jani snuggled against plush black leather and ran her hand over the polished ebony dash. “Mind if I ask?”

  Lucien maneuvered out of the lot and ramped immediately onto a Boul artery. “One of the Caos, in a small way. Husband’s spending the summer touring the colonial holdings. She’s spending the day sucking up to the in-laws.”

  “Does she know you’re spending the day with her skimmer?”

  “That’s not nice.”

  “Sorry.”

  The Plan involved finding Jani a reasonably priced hotel, followed by a recon mission to get the lay of the land and possibly dinner. However, she had certain criteria that needed to be met regarding the hotel. By the time they found an establishment with easy access to train stations and major thoroughfares, a secure entry, and a room from which she could view the comings and goings on the street outside and rapidly access stairwells, emergency exits, and alleys, the clock had struck midnight and then some and her self-appointed guardian angel was muttering mutiny.

  “Guess the lay of the land will have to wait until tom
orrow.” Jani stood by one of the room’s narrow windows and checked her timepiece. “Make that later today.”

  “That was ridiculous.” Lucien lowered to the small couch, testing the cushions with skeptical probes of his fingers. “Everyone who was looking for you found you and threw you back—you’re off the hook.”

  “Humor me.”

  “I’ve been doing that since the day we met. I’m getting tired of it.”

  Whoops. Jani perched on one of the built-in window seats. Outside, the city lights shone. Ten floors below, skimmers coursed, bearing people who never had to worry whether their backs were covered. I wonder what that’s like? Looks like she’d get the opportunity to find out. “Most folks have some kind of celebration on Discharge Day.” She looked at Lucien, who looked perplexed.

  “Who else do you know in Chicago?”

  Jani pretended to ponder. “Only you.”

  His expression changed to one of profound concentration. “I’m signed out until oh-eight-thirty.” He picked his words like delicacies from a tray. “If that will help you make up your mind.”

  Jani took in the cityscape one last time. Then she fiddled with the window adjustments until she found the privacy setting. The cast of the scanglass altered subtly, blocking the view from prying eyes.

  “If you’re toying with me again,” Lucien said as she walked toward him, “I’m going to be really, really upset.”

  “You’re so suspicious.” Jani straddled him, eased down onto his lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Looks like I have a lot of fence-mending to do.” She planted butterfly kisses on his forehead, his lips and cheeks, at the same time brushing her fingertips along the back of his neck until he shivered.

  “I should say so.” Lucien didn’t waste much time on preliminaries—he had gotten the lay of her land long ago. He pulled her shirt up over her head. The bandbra followed. He eased her onto her back and finished undressing her; his clothes soon joined hers on the floor. He looked like a young god in the half-light, down from the mountain to help her celebrate her freedom. He didn’t tell her he loved her—she wouldn’t have believed him if he had. Love was something he did and was good at; right then it was what she needed. First, he said things to her that made her laugh. Then he did things to her that made her cry out.

  Then it was his turn, and the first press of his naked body atop hers was a shock she didn’t want to recover from for a very long time.

  Chapter 35

  Evan sat on the patio, his chair in the shadows, glass in left hand, right hand dangling over the side. The second bottle of the day, half-empty, rested on the table at his left elbow. He had decided to wait for as long as it took, but it had been a hell of a day. First, news of Jani’s discharge had filtered in via Markhart. Then his attempts to reach several old friends had been bounced back, along with the notice that their services would not accept calls from his code.

  One up. He’d give the son of a bitch until one up. Then he’d retire to the cool quiet of his office and compose a second letter to a wider audience.

  He flexed his aching knee, then tensed as a rustle of leaves sounded from the rear of the yard. Something rattled closer, careless in its approach, like one of the neighbor dogs on a gallivant.

  A few meters beyond the edge of the reflected streetlight, the sound stopped. Then, silently as the predator he was named for, Mako glided into view. He wore dark clothes—long-sleeved shirt and trousers. His hands hung at his sides, empty.

  Evan tossed back the balance of his drink. “You took your goddamned time.”

  Mako grunted as he stepped onto the patio. His dark shoes made no noise on the flagstone. “I don’t know if you heard, but we’ve been dealing with an incident. Neoclona has turned my medical services upside down and Cao and Tsecha are watching my every move.” He sank into the only other chair, which Evan had taken care to position in the light. “Now, I’m here.”

  “How much interference are you throwing out?”

  “Enough. I’ve been properly fitted against every sort of electronic surveillance.” The soft patter of ergonomic clicks sounded as Mako shifted in his seat. “You’d be more comfortable, I’m sure, if you put that knife away.”

  Evan’s right hand clenched. The knife, a serrated bread slicer taken from the kitchen, comforted him with its cool heft. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep it.”

  “Put it away, van Reuter. If I’d wanted to kill you, I’d have done it a half hour ago, when you stepped into the bushes to piss.”

  “You were out there?”

  “I’ve been here for over an hour, standing out by your lovely roses, watching you drink.” Black eyes, scarcely visible through skinfolds and cheekbone, closed in pain as Mako worked his neck. “Killing you would provide me some repayment for the hell of these past weeks, but not enough.” He opened his eyes, and gazed at Evan in quiet disgust. “What do you want?”

  Evan flexed his right arm, gone numb from the position and the tension. “Just a foot in the door. Idomeni consultant. Seat on a Service-civilian commission. A chance to get in the ’sheets once in a while, keep me from gathering dust.” The final words hung up in his throat. “I’ll take anything.”

  “Bah-hah.” Mako’s rough laugh bubbled like a stuck drain. “You’ll take anything now. I know you, van Reuter. Once you get that foot in the door, you’ll force your way in and start stuffing your pockets.”

  “It’s the Family way.” Evan smiled. “I’m getting a renewed taste of the Family way. I catch the lucky break, comparatively speaking. I’m one of theirs, and they don’t want to risk setting any unfortunate precedents with the tang of revolution in the air. That makes the verdict death by shunning.” He refilled his glass. “But you’re an outsider, Roshi. You’re pro-colonial, in spite of your protests that you’re apolitical, and what you pulled at Rauta Shèràa Base sure as hell proved that you’re anti-Family. They’d chew you up and play flipstick with the bones.”

  Mako sat back, his spine straight and stiff as a flagpole. “If what you say about your predicament is true, who would believe you?”

  Evan had prepared his bluff for that one. “The Unsers, for starters. Jerzy Unser’s married to Shella Nawar, who just happens to be the Justice Minister’s daughter. What’s more, they all get along. I predict a domino effect.”

  Mako exhaled shakily. A long silence followed. Finally, a rumbling sigh. “These idomeni. They are a trial.”

  Evan’s heart leapt. “Aren’t they, though.”

  “I daresay we could use some advice, from time to time.”

  “Thank you, Roshi.”

  “Have you got another glass?”

  Evan, as it happened, did. He filled it, then took care to maintain his distance as he handed it to Mako. Cornered animals could still strike, even when they seemed subdued. His fingers ached from gripping the knife handle.

  But Mako remained seated. He even said, “Thank you.” Neither offered a formal toast, but they did sip at the same time. A deal sealer, of sorts, although Mako would never admit it and Evan would never think to push.

  “You bollixed some of the details.”

  “But the essential argument is correct?”

  Mako grunted an affirmative, his eyes fixed on nothing.

  Somewhere down the street, voices carried in loud farewell, followed by the dull thunks of skimmer gullwings, an insect chorus of activation whines.

  “Where’d you park?” Evan asked.

  Mako swirled his drink. “Three blocks over. House party. Skims everywhere.” He looked deflated. Exhausted. “I offered her a way out.”

  “She didn’t take it, did she?”

  “She had no choice.”

  “But she didn’t say ‘yes.’ And she didn’t say ‘thank you.’ And she made you feel like the scum of the earth for offering. Welcome to the club, Roshi.” Evan stared at the stained flagstone at his feet. “Need a refill?”

  But when he looked over at Mako, he saw only an empty chair, a ha
lf-filled glass balanced on the arm.

  Chapter 36

  Jani slipped out of bed, then showered and dressed. She took care not to trigger the lights—she needed to get where she was going by a certain time and she didn’t want to risk waking Lucien. Odds were if he did wake, he’d simply want to make love to her again. But he was a curious soul, and would definitely question why she felt the need to stumble about in the dark at 0400 when she could be playing with him or for that matter, just sleeping.

  She considered leaving him a farewell comport entry or a handwritten scribble on a piece of hotel stationery. Something to leave him mumbling imprecations as he drove back to Sheridan in his Family paramour’s husband’s skimmer. Instead, she blew a kiss to the tangle of arms, legs, and sheet sprawled across the bed and left.

  The air was thick with pavement heat, the night sky faded to grey velvet by building lights. Chicago never truly slept, but it did take the occasional breather and early morning midweek appeared to be one of those downtimes. Few skimmers, delivery vans mostly. Fewer pedestrians. Jani bought coffee from an automated kiosk, then hurried down the main streets and byways she had mapped in her mind the night before. She didn’t need to ask directions. She had done more during the previous night’s hotel search than search for hotels.

  Service Archives loomed like a holoVee castle on a corner across from one of her rejected hotels. She walked in the front door and directly up to the desk lieutenant, and handed her one of the IDs she had cobbled together during her short stint in Foreign Transactions, when she still thought she needed to plan her escape.

  She waited for Kisa Van, Major to ring up clean and green, then she wandered from stacks to stacks, and eventually found Sam Duong huddled on the floor, picking through slipcases.

  “Good morning, Mr. Duong.”