Endgame

by Kristine Smith

  I don’t need proof. I know. But courts needed proof, as did admirals general and cabinet ministers. So she answered in the only way she could, as much as she hated to say the words. “I don’t know.”

  The VIP section’s observation port proved an artful arrangement of twin spindle lifts that corkscrewed up the two sides of an enormous span of clear metalloceramic, then opened out onto a narrow catwalk that spanned the width of the pane.

  Looks like about a two-story drop. Jani tore her attention away from the dimensions of the indoor balcony and looked toward the station. The damage to the Capria was more visible from this angle, shiny pink hull sealant smeared across the side of the ship like blown bubble gum.

  She heard the observatory door open, footsteps. The sound of the left-side lift ascending. Looked toward the one-person capsule just as it opened and Lucien stepped out onto the catwalk. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same question.” He stopped just beyond arm’s reach and looked toward the Capria. “Does it help to stare at it?” He waited for her to answer, mumbled something in French when she didn’t. “Pierce said Anais is full of shit. Why don’t you believe him? Don’t you trust him anymore?” He stared at her until he drew her eye. “I saw him take that drink in front of Vega. A dumb risk. He’s not doing well, is he?”

  “I’d say you’d been talking to Val, if you and Val were talking.” Jani kicked at the balcony railing. I need a map of this tub. She had tried to corner Niall after the conclave in Mako’s office disbanded, but he shook her off and she had tried to follow. It took him one flight of stairs to lose me. In a pulse-driven city with officers’ clubs, bars, and liquor stores on most every deck. “He shouldn’t have come. He should’ve stayed in Karistos.”

  “He couldn’t. He has to turn the clock back twenty years and make it right—” Lucien tried to dodge, but before he could, Jani kicked his leg out from under him. He hit the balcony floor hard and she followed him down, planting her knees on his chest, pinning his shoulders, rendering his arms useless. He tried to kick out a leg and twist so he could throw her off, but every time he tried, she pushed down with her knees, immobilizing him.

  After one last failed attempt, Lucien struck the floor with his fist. “Uncle.” Then he laid back his head and smiled. “You scoot up a little bit, we could have some fun.”

  “While you’re on this tub, you keep your mouth shut about Niall, and your two-bit psych eval to yourself.” Jani pushed herself off him and scrambled to her feet, ready to kick hard if he came after her.

  “I’m always the target.” Lucien sat up. “You want to batter the world, but the only one you can put your hands on is me.” He worked into a crouch and stood, then set about straightening skewed badges and brushing the creases from his tunic. “You’d kill to protect him, wouldn’t you? He’d do the same for you. I think if he ever got his hands on Anais, he really would stuff her in a drone and send her down Samvasta GateWay.” His voice held the childlike curiosity that it usually did when he pondered emotional connections. “What does that feel like?”

  “You want a lesson in humanity, take a class. They’ve got a branch of Chicago Combined on this damned thing.”

  “I just find it fascinating is all. When you first met him, he gave you the creeps.”

  “I didn’t know him.” Jani edged down the railing, intent on remaining just out of Lucien’s reach. I don’t need this now. I really don’t. “Some relationships improve over time.”

  Lucien ignored her insult. “It’s all gotten messy, hasn’t it? Tsecha’s death. This bombing. And you think you know what happened, but you can’t prove any of it. And Mako needs proof, and unless you can give him something, he may just start thinking you’re lying. He may even start believing those things Anais is saying about you, despite what his colonel tells him.” He leaned easily on the rail. “And that’s not even the worst of it. If Cao catches on about the secession deal, we just might see Family members jailed for the first time in memory. As for the non-Family members, who knows what might happen? Rebellious Service officers, for example.” He looked over the side to the poured poly floor ten meters below. “This balcony isn’t nearly as high as the one in Thalassa.” He looked at Jani and his gaze sharpened. “The view’s the same, though.”

  Jani tried to walk past Lucien to the left-side lift, but he stepped in front of her. She turned and headed for the other lift, but he circled her, blocking her again.

  “I’m here.” He edged closer. “I’ve been here for weeks.”

  Jani feinted to one side, then stepped back as he blocked her again. “A sympathetic ear.”

  “An ear. When did you ever give a damn for sympathy?” Lucien started to laugh. “You know what’s funny? I’ve actually missed this. Arguing with you. What sane person would miss arguing with you?” He shook his head, and wiped his eyes.

  Jani turned her back on him and looked out at the stars. Sometimes, she found it easier to argue with Lucien if she didn’t look at him. I don’t love him. No, but love and sympathy and other of the finer emotions had never defined what passed between them. “When did you start thinking of yourself as sane?” A cheap insult, but with some luck it would irritate him enough to drive him away.

  She stared at the stars. Tried to count them. Waited for the sound of the lift door, the sign that she was finally alone. Waited for any sound at all. When the silence continued, she turned to find Lucien studying her.

  No, that wasn’t the word. His expression—rapt, grave—she’d seen it before. In the half-light, after he’d undressed her, run his hands over every part of her, made ready to do all those other things to her that he did so well…

  “You never change.” His voice emerged rough, as though he’d just returned from the same memory. “And I keep coming back for more, again and again and again—” He moved in, resting his hands on her waist, pulling her closer without seeming to apply any pressure at all. Kissed her cheek, lips barely brushing her skin. Maneuvered her gently to the other side of the balcony, blocking her view of the Capria, because if she opened her eyes and saw it, she’d make him stop, and he couldn’t have that.

  So simple. Jani closed her eyes. Savored the growing ache between her legs as his lips moved across her neck, the trip of her heart as he fingered the front of her shirt and touched the topmost fastener. Simple answers to simple questions. Did she want him? Yes. Did she trust him? Never.

  Did she want to forget, even for a little while?

  Yes.

  Could she afford to?

  Jani opened her eyes. Took what was there, to remember later. The sense of his body as he pressed her against the railing, the hardness and the heat. The softest scents of male and musk. The crisp feel of Service cloth and the silken touch of hair that seemed lit from within.

  “This is pretty much what you did with Val, isn’t it?” She touched Lucien’s cheek, stroking it until he raised his head. “The air of defeat. ‘Here I am—why do I bother?’” She brushed a nonexistent smudge from one orange collar tab. “Well’s run a little dry, has it? You’re starting to repeat yourself.”

  Lucien blinked. Then his eyes widened. “He told you?” He released her as through she burned. “That pathetic—”

  “Not the details.” Jani walked to the left side lift capsule and hit the door pad. “Anyone who’s watched enough bad porn could fill in the details.” She entered the tiny booth as soon as it opened. Hit the Down pad. A simple task, as long as she didn’t look back. “You chose your path, Lucien. Deal with it.”

  She rode the lift down. Pushed out of the small capsule as soon as the door opened, like an animal freed from a cage. Felt Lucien’s stare track her as she walked across the observatory and out the door.

  She walked until she found a vend arcade. Bought a map of the Ulanov from a kiosk. Found a build-your-own-sandwich shop, inserted enough tokens to cover a double order, and poked through the vend coolers, assembling as she went. Ham—cheddar—mustard— She spri
nkled a handful of peppercorns across her ham slices, then fixed them in place with a generous swathe of mustard. Spread pickles on both sandwiches, added tomato slices, and on Niall’s a dollop of potato salad. Arranged the food on a couple of dispo plates, then piled them on a tray.

  She consulted the map again. Stuck to stairways and primary corridors. Crossed from the VIP wing into Officer Country. Turned the corner onto the row of Transient Officer suites, and almost collided with Mako, who was headed in the opposite direction.

  “Kilian.” Mako looked at the tray and his eyes softened. “I think he ate lunch, but that was some time ago.” He had changed into casuals and carried a battered gym bag. “I stopped by to see if he wanted to take a break, work out…” He blinked, leaned against the wall. “What is it?”

  Jani tried not to look too closely at Mako. He stood more than a head shorter than she, and in his grey T-shirt and blue pull-on pants looked more like an old man headed out for a day of beachcombing then the supreme commander of the Commonwealth Service. “What do you think?”

  Mako rubbed his bald scalp, shook his head. “I don’t know how many times I told him, ‘Niall, you saved the Service the cost of three courts-martial.’ We’d have fried them anyway.”

  “They were Family.”

  “We’d have fried them anyway.” Mako’s eyes brightened with fight. “I’d have made sure.” He glanced at Jani sidelong, as reluctant to confide in her as she was to listen to him. “I told him he didn’t have to go on to Shèrá. Before you showed up with Pascal, I told him. The way he looked at me, as though I’d kicked the last skid out from under.” He stared down at the floor. “Talk to him. Because he can’t—” He pushed away from the wall. “He can’t go on in the direction he’s headed. Not here. Not now.” He edged past her and disappeared around the corner.

  Jani stood in place for a time. Finally studied the map again, and started down the corridor. Checked nameplates until she found N. PIERCE. Hit the entry buzzer. “Niall?” She waited, then hit the buzzer again. “I need to talk to you.” She watched the red entry light, waited, waited. “Niall?”

  Long moments passed. Then the light flipped to green.

  Jani palmed into the cabin to find the lights dimmed. She closed her eyes, then opened them, hurrying their adjustment to the half-dark. Saw the shadow in the far corner, seated in a chair, obscured by smoke. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Yeah, but like I told you, it doesn’t help.” Niall’s voice emerged slurred. “We’re leaving a cruiser behind as a show of force. Fort Helier is on alert. Guernsey ComPol are rounding up members of human separatist organizations. If what you say is right, it’s all a waste of resources and manpower. I always like feeling useful.” The tip of his ’stick glowed as he took a pull. “Is that a tray?”

  “I made sandwiches.” Jani held out the food like a child displaying a craft project. “Ham and cheese.”

  “You cooked?” Niall shook his head. “Constructed.” His voice emerged hushed. “For me?”

  “Do you want it or not?”

  “I’d be…loath to eat it.” Niall cocked his head. “Might have it bronzed.”

  “Fuck you, all right?” Jani walked to the table beside Niall’s chair and plunked down the tray, coughing as the clove smoke raked her throat. “Eat.” She took her plate, hied to the opposite side of the sitting room and fell onto the couch.

  “You sound like my dear Roshi.” Niall took the sandwich in hand and peeled back the top slice of bread. “I’ve never seen potato salad used as a filling before.”

  “My papa makes mashed potato sandwiches.” Jani bit into her sandwich and immediately hit a peppercorn. “You fry up the mashed with butter and onion. Dice in some bacon.” She savored the sinus-clearing capsaicin rush. “Grill the bread first, or it sogs up fast.”

  “I can imagine.” Niall broke off a corner and bit carefully. “Thank you, gel.” He chewed. Paused. “Been dreaming much?”

  Jani mined another peppercorn from the depths. “A little.”

  “You know the drill. Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

  Jani nodded. First, there comes simple. Then there comes hard. And then there comes this. “It’s been the same one the past few nights. I walk into the Laumrau camp, pull back the flap of the first tent, and no one’s inside.” Sweat trickled down her back, and she blamed the pepper. “Then I turn around, and there they are. All twenty-six of them, shooters drawn.” She laughed, a dead bark of a sound. “It’s a short dream.”

  Niall set his plate aside. “Mine’s old. It’s the one where I’m just about ready to take out Ebben.” His voice softened. “And she stops running, and turns, and points at me. ‘Sergeant Pierce,’ she says, ‘a good Spacer only shoots the guilty.’ So—” He exhaled with a shudder. “—I set aside the long-range I’m holding, and take out my sidearm, and activate it, and—” He held his hand to the side of his head, index finger extended. “—I—” His finger twitched.

  Jani waited until Niall lowered his hand. “You haven’t had that one for a while.” Another peppercorn, because the burning made her feel alive. “Three more weeks of this crap.”

  Silence settled until the warning klaxon sounded, announcing thirty minutes until breakaway.

  CHAPTER 24

  Stillness. Stillness and warmth and the sound of running water.

  The security dominant, whose name she still did not know, yelling at her, his words as shatterboxes in her head.

  Quiet, and the sense that one would never move, ever again.

  “She wakes, nìRau.”

  Rilas opened her eyes, then closed them against the glare of white that struck as the light of a sun. Ceiling. She clenched her hands, felt the rumple of cloth. Bed. Pushed up with her elbows. Tried to sit up—

  The bed seemed to shudder, as a shuttle upon reentry.

  Her soul screamed. She twisted to one side as the acid heat rose in her throat and freed itself, as she convulsed again and again.

  “All will be well, nìaRauta.”

  She felt a hand on her shoulder, supporting her as she leaned over the purge receptacle. After she finished, she fell back onto the bed, felt a cool cloth move across her forehead, over her mouth. Heard prayers, the wishes of a physician-priest that her patient remain in the esteem of the gods.

  She is not my priest. She did not recognize this female’s voice, this touch. Even so, she thanked her. Drank from the cup she held to her lips, laid back as she bade. Accepted the frozen cylinder placed beneath her neck as the greatest of gifts.

  “The sedative affects some idomeni in this way. Even treatment does not counter it. The gods forgive your unseemliness, Rilas.”

  Rilas raised her head. Blinked away the tears that had filled her eyes, and looked toward the figure at the far end of the room.

  “Imea nìaRauta Rilas, survivor of Samvasta GateWay. The gods are with you, and truly, and would forsake me if I did not honor such courage. Thus have I come in person to welcome you home.” Morden nìRau Cèel sat near the entry, in a chair so low he seemed to rest directly upon the floor. “In between meetings. So many meetings. And the arrival of the humanish. So many arrivals.”

  Rilas pushed so that she sat upright, even as the physician-priest struggled to push her back. “I was coming to you freely.”

  Cèel gestured apology. “Unfortunately, nìaRauta, others sought to interrupt your coming. Thus were we compelled to ensure that your journey home was not impeded.”

  “An escort, nìRau.” Rilas shifted to and fro, struggling to see around the physician-priest, who stood at the foot of the bed and operated the levels and adjustments. “Such would have proved adequate.” The edges of her vision blackened and she sagged back.

  “You cannot sit up too far, or you will sicken again.” The priest returned to her side and held her down, then rearranged cushions under her head. “I have raised the front of the bed as far as I will.”

  “Raise it higher.”

  “You are too ill
, nìaRauta. Your reaction to the soma is too profound—”

  “Raise it higher.”

  “Do as she bids, nìaRauta Ansu.” Cèel stood, then arranged the sleeves of his overrobe. “She will not rest as you wish until I have told her that which she believes she needs to know. Such is as she is. This I know, and truly.”

  The physician-priest straightened, but whether she did so in supplication to Cèel or the gods, Rilas could not surmise. After a few moments she walked around to the foot of the bed and pressed the adjustments. The front of the bed rose, and Rilas motioned with her hand for it to continue.

  “Enough.” Ansu stopped the elevation at the quarter point. “Any higher and you will faint.” She glanced back at Cèel, then gestured her leave-taking and departed.

  Cèel walked across the room to the single narrow window, which had been barred on the outside. “Ansu is my own physician-priest. She believes and truly that she is bound to care for all Vynshàrau as she cares for me.” He bared his teeth, then turned to observe the view. “The Haárin ship bearing Tsecha’s reliquary arrives within the next two sun cycles. The Cabinet ship on which Kièrshia travels arrives soon after. I would prefer to blast it out of space rather than allow it to dock, but such would constitute an incident, and our hands must appear as clean.” His voice emerged guttural, deepened by anger and the demand for obedience. “They will search for you, and they must not find you. You must remain here in this hospital until they depart.”

  Rilas raised a hand to her ear, then felt along her temple to her eye.

  “I have your book, nìa. NìaRauta Ansu removed it as you slept.” Cèel offered a posture of regard, tilting his head to the right, raising and curving his right hand against his chest. “I viewed Tsecha’s collapse. I regret that I could not also view his death, but such is as it is.” He turned to her. “You have earned the greatest esteem of all Vynshàrau. Of all idomeni.” He once more gestured gratitude, then left the window and walked to the entry. “Now I must take leave of you. You will be cared for here until the ungodly depart.” He paused and bared his teeth. “Or are expelled, when we convince them that the words of the Kièrshia are as nothing and that only humanish assassinate.” He walked to the door and placed his hand upon the pad.