Different Senses

by Ann Somerville

  “How?” the captain snapped, forgetting his ‘sirs’—his manners weren’t up to repeated shocks.

  “Check the political registration and bank accounts of the other four people.”

  “Follow the money,” I said. “Basics of investigation.”

  “And if I find nothing?”

  “You won’t,” Shardul said. “We’ve done it. You need to do it too. And when you do, you get all our data, the names, places, the rest of it.”

  “If I have it now, I could stop further attacks.”

  “Yes. But the mole can also alert the people involved. What you don’t know, you can’t leak accidentally.”

  He didn’t like it. I didn’t care. Certain bastards had been playing deadly games with my family, and his people were part of it. Now we were fighting back, and no snippy little army officer was going to get in my way.

  ~~~~~~~~

  It didn’t take long, and we already knew what Captain Largosen would find, because we’d found it ourselves. Once he looked at the bank accounts, it became obvious to him as it had to us which of five possible suspects had sent Shardul and me to what he’d hoped was our deaths. Commander Reoda was arrested, and the task then became to tease out the links, the players, and the motives.

  Once again I was sidelined, but I had a good reason. While Shardul, Dad and the now convinced captain traced the lines of the complicated web, I underwent surgery to remove the implants—now vital evidence for the prosecution—and to restore my appearance to what it had been before. That turned out to be more time-consuming and more tiresome than the first time, and I lost a full week to anaesthesia and recovery before I could be released to Kirin’s care for full recuperation. For political reasons, the pretence that I was still on Kelon had to be maintained, so I couldn’t be seen in public, or stay with Mum and Dad. Kirin didn’t mind, but I pushed his hospitality to the limit with my grouchiness at being so out of the game.

  “For sanity’s sake, Javen, it’s only for another week and then your ‘return’ will be announced,” he said, after I’d delivered another rant at the media screen. Dad had announced the curfew was over, and his opponents were making the most of the opportunity to criticise him. I wanted to shoot some of them, they annoyed me so much. “Calm down.”

  “I can’t. I want to be helping Dad, helping the indigenous community. I want to go back to work, damn it.”

  “Yes, I know. But you’re going to pop something if you keep this up.”

  I growled at him but only because he was close at hand. “That’s another thing. I went through all that bloody surgery for fuck all reason. All because of that bastard.”

  “Yes, but without it, you wouldn’t have exposed that bastard and all he was up to.”

  “We still haven’t.” I froze as Kirin’s entry speaker beeped. “Expecting someone?”

  “No. Better hide.”

  I dashed up to my room and hid behind the door, gun in hand. I heard Kirin talking to someone over the speaker phone, and then he laughed. I relaxed. Maybe just a friend—or old boyfriend—dropping over for a chat.

  “Come on down,” Kirin called. “It’s okay.”

  I put my weapon in my holster and put a jacket on. A little caution wouldn’t hurt.

  Shardul grinned as I stopped dead. “There you are. I bet you stopped to pick up a weapon.”

  I opened my jacket and showed him. “You should have called.”

  “And ruin the element of surprise? It’s good to see you again, Javen. To see you.” He came over and kissed my cheek. I winced but only a little. “Sorry. Is it tender?”

  “A bit. Mostly it’s reflex. How are you?”

  “Busy. Missing you.”

  Kirin coughed. “I’ll just...go clean up my closet or something. Javen, take Shardul into the living room. Offer him wine. Tell him where the spare toothbrushes are.”

  “Kirin, piss off, will you?” My eyes didn’t leave Shardul’s face.

  “Pissing off. Nice to see you, Shardul.”

  “And you. Goodnight, Kirin.”

  I took Shardul by the hand and dragged him into the living room and down onto the sofa. “If you keep being this nice to my ex,” I said, nibbling his ear, “I might have to kill him.”

  “I have no interest in your ex, Javen.” He opened my jacket and tugged on the holster. “This comes off, or I refuse to stay.”

  “Pushy man.” But I took the jacket and holster off, took the charge bar out of the power pistol and put it in the pocket of the jacket. “There. Safe.”

  “Good.” He kissed me, using tongue and lips, hands roaming carefully, pushing me down to the sofa. My hands ended up on his firm butt, and I took shameless advantage of the position. Shardul writhed on top of me like we were slow dancing, and I pressed up against him, needing him, wanting him to be close and never leave.

  “You want to...uh...take this upstairs?”

  He pulled off me, and I groaned in raw frustration. Not again.

  “I came here to talk to you, actually.”

  “Now he tells me.” I adjusted my erection and scowled at him. “You are a fucking cocktease, Shardul. You’ve been turning me on remorselessly from the day I met you, and you still want to talk?”

  “Talk, then...perhaps more.”

  I sat up. “I need a drink.”

  “Make that two.”

  I found two beers in the cooler and handed him one. “Talk fast. I’m cranky, bored and horny, and I’m really ready to stop this dancing around thing.”

  “Sorry. I’m not trying to put you off. But I wanted to let you know how matters stand on the investigations.”

  I drank, he talked. Our three kidnappers had been arrested but weren’t talking. Others connected to the so-called ‘Justice for Nihan’ group were, though, in exchange for possibly seeing daylight again before they died. There was a genuine indigenous membership—the anger was real, after all—but not just Denge, but other leading citizens, were paying all the active players. Members of the Medele Freedom party—Dad’s most persistent critic—were prominently featured.

  “It’s enough to bring them in for questioning, but we can’t prove a causal connection, although we know there is one. The motive appears to be purely political—unseat your father and his party, and put rights for our people back to when the Kelons ruled and we cowered.”

  “Not all the unrest was at their hands.”

  “No, certainly not, and, to my sorrow, our people committed serious crimes. But the attack on your family, the murder of that child, the other most heinous acts—these were paid for by Kelons.”

  I swallowed some more beer and considered. “What’s Dad going to do?”

  “That’s being discussed. I think he’ll want you ‘home’ before he makes a move.”

  “Right. You know, I still have no idea why we were kidnapped and not killed outright.”

  “Hmmm. The captain says they probably hoped to embarrass and disarm me by revealing me as a traitor to my people. It might also have been a way of putting pressure on your father. What’s certain is that we were valuable commodities and not to be discarded lightly. No one’s talking who knows the truth. Denge is hiding behind his lawyers for now.”

  “Of course he is, the gutless wonder.” I’d finished my drink. “Another one?”

  He put his hand on my wrist as I set the bottle on the table. “Actually, no. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about before...things go where they’re fairly obviously heading.”

  “If you’re breaking up with me again, I’m going to cry. Just warning you.”

  He grinned. “I might cry too. No, I still have some explanations to make. About that night—”

  “No. Really. You don’t. No explanations, no apologies. All I want to know from you is—do you love me, and do you want to be with me?”

  He touched my face, then leaned in to kiss me. “Yes, and yes.” He kissed me again, and stroked his fingers down my face. “I love you, and I have for a long time.
But,” he added as, overwhelmed with desire and affection for this extraordinary creature, I reached for him, intending to never let him go again, “what I said that night, and since about the difficulties.... Javen, consider the problems.”

  “I have, and I don’t care.”

  He leaned back, for the first time his emotions less than bright. “I haven’t that luxury, and you know why. Things are so inflamed right now, and the risk is also to your father.”

  “So we’ll be discreet. I’m not stupid, Shardul. I know what could happen. I only meant that I don’t care what pain it brings me. But I love you and want to be with you. I want to fight for what you fight for, and help both our races. I’ll face anything, so long as I can face it with you. The only thing I’m afraid of is losing you.” I picked up his hand and kissed it. “I made my mind up a long time ago. I can live without you. I have no wish to, and never will. If I have to wait, I will, but tell me you’ll be there in the end.”

  “You’re much braver than me,” he murmured, letting me take him in my arms.

  I nuzzled under his ear. “I can afford to be. I don’t risk as much. You wouldn’t have come here tonight if you hadn’t decided to stay.”

  “And yet I hadn’t...not finally.”

  “You’re trying to drive me insane.”

  “No, I’m not. You confuse my thought processes. When I’m with you, all I can think about is being with you, but I want to make the right decision for everyone.”

  “Shardul, your people and my people have been getting together for centuries. It won’t ever be easy, but it doesn’t have to hurt anyone. Look, go if you have to think about it some more. I won’t pressure you. I won’t be angry either.”

  He didn’t move. “No. I won’t go.” He leaned down until his face was resting against my neck. “I’m so tired, Javen. Tired always of the politics, the struggle. If I hesitate, it’s because of that weariness. But being with you gives me more peace, more strength, than anyone or anything outside prayer.”

  “I can never believe what you do, you know that. I will always be a guko.”

  “Believer or not, your feet tread in the ways of the Spirit, and as the Seeker teaches. Your heart is pure, and that can only be a gift from Him.”

  “Did you just convert me?”

  He lifted his head to grin at me. “I wouldn’t even try.”

  “Come to bed?”

  “In this house?”

  “You’d prefer my parents’ place? Kirin doesn’t mind, and if you do, I can promise to distract you.”

  He reached under me and gave my butt a highly suggestive squeeze. “I promise it won’t be difficult.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  By the time I officially ‘came home’, Dad had learned that one of his sons would be stepping out publicly with a Nihani lover in the not too distant future. He wasn’t as upset as I feared—neither of my parents minded all that much, funnily enough—but when and how to break the news to the public was an issue we couldn’t sort out quickly. My new relationship with Shardul was a source of joy for both of us, but also of lots and lots of arguments over the public thing. His relatives as well as mine all had advice and cautions aplenty, but no guarantees that whatever we did wouldn’t hurt Dad at a point where he needed to be in office and in control, or Shardul when he needed to speak for his community with authority.

  Me, I didn’t care about, but I was damned if anyone would hurt those I loved through any act of mine. Fortunately, Shardul and I found time to be together that didn’t involve discussing the vexed issue, and even a couple of weekends away up at my grandfather’s house. Granddad took to Shardul right away, and Shardul to him. The happy memories of those breaks carried me through some tough times.

  And there were plenty of those. Though the truly scary attacks had ended when the ringleaders of the supposed Nihani terrorist group had been arrested, the harm had been done, and the political hardliners pounded on the drum of the ‘indigenous threat’ as hard as they could. They gained a lot of traction—but Dad wasn’t giving up without a fight. He pressed on with planned reforms, and invited indigenous leaders to attend news conferences with him. Those same leaders made repeated, public pleas for their community to remain calm and law-abiding, which had a real impact. Working with my father, the Nihan organised a number of goodwill events aimed at families, and there was a surprisingly good attendance. Dad also set up a number of community awards, and Nihani individuals were prominently featured. The government launched an appeal against Denge’s acquittal, and since three judges, not a jury, would hear the appeal, there was a good chance of winning. No guarantees, though. A conviction would go a long way towards assuaging indigenous anger.

  Darshan and his men were charged with terrorist activity. Someone paid for the Nihan accused to access a decent legal team, but conviction was likely. We hoped Darshan would give up his paymasters before trial, because he and the other two weren’t the real target. We were really after the hardliners and their illicit connections. Dad’s people had done a bit of shrewd leaking of their own, planting leads and cultivating reporters. One of the reporters ran an exposé and the resulting uproar gave Dad what he was after—an excuse to establish a judicial review into the alleged links. Whether that would bear fruit, we didn’t know, and it would move glacially slow, but the judges had come out on the side of right before, and we just hoped they would again.

  It was all a gamble, and all Dad could do was count on his fixed term appointment to resist calls for him to resign. After that, he said, he’d fight for re-election, and if he failed, he’d fight in opposition. I swore to help him win the election, even if I had to give up my business to do it.

  I’d already decided to quit being a cop. Ironic, I knew, seeing how I’d wanted nothing more than to be an active officer again. But being in the force meant following rules and procedures—and superiors—I couldn't in conscience agree with, or reconcile with my relationship with Shardul. Captain Largosen quietly deactivated my status, and I submitted my formal resignation after that. “I suspect your true talents lie elsewhere, Sri Ythen,” he told me at the time. “For the record, I’m behind what you and your father are trying to achieve.”

  “We need support inside and outside the system, so please keep going.” I saluted him. “Give ‘em shit, sir.”

  He smiled, but as always, his emotions were his own secret. I didn’t mind. I judged him by his actions, and he’d fought the good fight. I believed we could trust him, and there were few enough around.

  Five months later, Shardul and I drove to the space port to meet some very special passengers, whose arrival had been kept very quiet, deliberately, because everything our family did was now political, and we just could not predict what reaction the media would have to my brother and his family coming back to Uterden.

  “Uncle Javen!”

  I grinned and knelt, bracing myself for impact. “Oof! Wow, look who’s grown.”

  “I’m tall now!” Harshul declared.

  “We’re the same height, Harshul,” Madhu said, squelchingly. “Who’s that, uncle Javen?” He pointed up and behind me.

  “Boys, this is my friend, Shardul. Say hello.”

  They stared. Shardul crouched down. “Hello, Harshul.”

  “I’m Madhu,” he corrected impatiently.

  Shardul, who knew that perfectly well, bowed his head. “So you are. And you are indeed tall. Are you brave and clever with it?”

  Madhu looked right at Shardul. “Yes, I am.”

  “I am too!” Harshul shouted. Shardul wiggled a finger in his ear, and Harshul took the hint. “Sorry. Sometimes I’m a bit loud, Mummy says.”

  I ruffled his hair. “Yes, but we love you anyway. Ah, and there’s Mummy and Daddy now.”

  Tara waved, and held Nita up to say hello, but love my darling sister-in-law and her little girl though I did, I only had eyes for the man next to them. Yashi strode forward, and held out his hand.

  “Javen.”

  I pulled him in
to a hug, and wanted to never let go. I couldn’t speak, I was so full of love and relief and sheer amazement that he was here and whole.

  “We missed you,” he said, pounding my back lightly. “We missed home. We just couldn't stay away any longer.”

  “And we couldn’t bear it without you. Welcome home, brother.” I leaned back to look at him. “You look....”

  “Not quite as good as new, but getting there.”

  He was right, of course. The rebuilt side of his face wasn’t scarred but it was that very perfection which looked slightly wrong. But compared with how I’d last seen it, it was a miracle. I touched his cheek. “You look like my brother, and that’s all I damn well care about. Tara, come and meet my boyfriend.”

  She gave a little squeak of surprise when she realised who I meant, but, smiling brightly, she held her hand out to my lover. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Tara.”

  “And I am Shardul. Welcome back. This is a blessed day for Javen and you all.”

  The religious reference made her frown only briefly in confusion, but then she grinned at Yashi. “Your brother definitely knows how to pick the good-looking ones.”

  “So does mine,” I said. “Let’s go home.”

  “To the residence?” Yashi asked.

  “Nope. To your home and my home. Mum and Dad are waiting in your house.”

  While Dad battled the hardliners, Mum had battled builders and architects. They’d wanted to ‘improve’ Yashi and Tara’s lovely house, but she’d insisted that nothing, outside a few necessary repairs and equipment updates, should be changed from the original. Using images and vids and my memory, she’d reconstructed the house and flat almost exactly as it had been, right down to the paint colours. The burned belongings, the treasures and keepsakes, couldn’t be replaced, but she’d done what she could with copies of precious photos, duplicates of toys and ornaments and books.

  Tara burst into tears when she walked in through her own front door. “It’s so beautiful,” she sobbed, and my undemonstrative mother actually hugged her while she cried.

  We all cried, except for Shardul, who politely kept out of the way while all the emotional stuff was going on. The boys recovered fastest, of course, and wanted to see the garden, dragging my parents out with them. Tara insisted she wanted to cook in her kitchen again. “Even if it’s just to boil water. I can’t believe it,” she added for at least the twentieth time since she’d arrived.