by R S Penney
Jena turned slightly, gesturing to the people behind her. “You don't like working with Antaurans?” It was hard to keep the venom from her voice. She didn't even try. “I don't like war. So maybe if people like you were a little more willing to compromise, we wouldn't have to keep fighting each other.”
The only one who seemed affected by that was Glin, and he showed it only by staring vacantly down at the table. Kaydie was as unreadable as ever; she just sat there, taking it all in. But Tiassa…
The woman crossed arms in front of her chest, stood up straight and spoke like a queen pronouncing judgment. “Be that as it may,” she began, “Your team has become an unstable element in this organization, and we believe that-”
Lifting her forearm, Jena tapped away at the screen of her multi-tool. It was time to play her hand and hope for the best. A pair of holograms appeared before her – black text on a white background – one oriented so that she could read it, the other facing the three senior directors.
“Director Morane's team operates under my authority,” Jena began. “And it is my intention that they should continue their efforts unhindered. Though unconventional, their methods have proven effective on many occasions. Agent Lenai is to complete her three-week suspension and return to duty without further punishment. You may be assured that Director Morane and her team have my complete confidence.
“Signed: Larani Tal, Chief Director of the Justice Keepers on the second day of Azaran, 752 NA.”
Jena let her arm drop, the holograms vanishing to reveal three stunned faces staring at her like cats peering through a basement window. Everyone was speechless. They had not expected that little trick. Well, she deserved a little awestruck confusion after all that. Securing Larani's support had been easy enough once she got a hold of the woman. One advantage to her team's somewhat tarnished reputation was the fact that no one would suspect them of being part of Slade's little cabal.
Larani had told her what she'd learned from the woman who had tried to kill Ben. Moles in the Justice Keepers, traitors eating away at their organization from the inside. People with symbionts that no longer demanded any kind of accountability. In a climate like that, it was hard to trust anyone. Larani opposed Slade; Jena opposed Slade. That made them allies for the moment.
Tiassa drew herself up to full height, standing behind the table with arms folded, her face a mask of bitter resentment. “Larani Tal can't protect you forever,” she hissed. “Sooner or later, you're going to have to account for yourself.”
Grinning ferociously, Jena looked up at the ceiling. “That may be so,” she said, nodding to the other woman. “But for the moment, I think we've wasted enough time on this hearing, don't you?”
She turned to go.
Her people followed her direction, Anna and Harry spinning around and following Jack, Melissa and Gabi to the door. One more battle over. One more check mark in her column of victories. The sad reality about fighting the good fight was one that very few people stated out loud: sooner or later, you lost. Sooner or later, the people who greased the gears that kept the engines of corruption turning would bring institutional power against you. On that day, you would go down.
All you could really do is last as long as you can.
Raindrops slid down the window pane in what was now Ben's living room, the gray light of an overcast afternoon leaving a gloomy feeling that almost made him want to turn on the lights. Almost. His new dwellings were simple; this tiny house in the residential zone of Denabria had been assigned to him just one week ago. The courts had decided that he wasn't a dangerous criminal, and so he was allowed a private residence so long as he stayed within city limits during his rehabilitation.
Through the rain-streaked window, he saw the green grass of his lawn and a line of trees that marked the edge of the property. One of the small, rectangular robots was busy trimming the grass despite the lousy weather.
Ben sat on a sofa, hunched over with arms pressed to his stomach. A wince twisted his features. Stuck here for three months, he lamented. Unable to call anyone off-world. Darrel probably thinks I abandoned him.
Gloominess suited him just now.
Ben stood and shuffled over to the window, pausing there for a very long while. It could be worse, he reminded himself for the hundredth time. Weapons' smugglers usually get a stiffer punishment.
A knock at the door.
“Come in!”
To his left, the front door swung open, allowing a half-soaked Larani Tal to step inside and close her umbrella. If Ben had been the sort of man who preferred women, he would certainly have preferred Larani. She was tall and reed-slender with dark chocolate-brown skin and long black hair that she wore in a ponytail. It was a mess at the moment, but that only added to her beauty.
Larani closed her eyes, heaving out a deep breath. “You'll forgive me for intruding on your quiet reflection,” she said, approaching the open doorway where the foyer met the living room. “I thought we should talk.”
Ben spun to face her.
He felt his mouth tighten, then bowed his head to her. “I'm taking it you've had no luck with Calissa.” Mentioning the woman left a sick feeling in his stomach. “She's still making threats and grand boasts.”
“To say the least.” Larani glanced from side to side, looking for a place to hang her coat, and when she found none, she simply shrugged out of it and folded it over one arm. “I've received news from Earth. Wesley Pennfield is dead.”
Covering his lips with three fingers, Ben squinted up at the floor. “I feel like I should know that name,” he mumbled to himself. “He was involved in the case that led Anna to Earth, right?”
Larani stood before him with her arms folded, her eyes downcast as if this subject had become a source of personal shame. “From what we can tell, Pennfield was running a smuggling ring that trafficked in symbionts. Which brings me to my next point.”
“Calissa's ominous predictions.”
“Yes. I don't suppose I could trouble you for a cup of tea.”
Ben was more than happy to oblige her – after all, it wasn't every day that you got a visit from the Head of the Justice Keepers – and besides, the mail bots had just delivered his groceries, and he had more than enough to spare.
About ten minutes later, Larani was sitting in the big comfy chair with both hands cradling the cup that she balanced in her lap, steam wafting up toward her face. “I have your friends looking into the symbiont they recovered from Pennfield,” she said softly. “Trying to determine how he was able to circumvent the checks a Nassai would usually insist upon.”
Standing in front of the window with his arms crossed, Ben frowned down at the floor. “Have they come up with anything useful?” he murmured. “Maybe even some way we might test each Keeper for the presence of an evil Nassai?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Well, damn it.”
Larani looked up at him with a solemn expression, daylight reflected in her large dark eyes. “The fact is, Tanaben,” she began. “There is simply no way to know precisely how many of my agents have been compromised.”
Ben squeezed his eyes shut, trembling as he drew in a long breath. “Right,” he said with a curt nod. “So now you're desperate, and you can't even order one of your people to investigate because you don't know if he's one of Slade's moles.”
“Trust is a valuable commodity.”
“So what makes you trust me?”
In response, Larani sat back in the chair and lifted her cup in two hands. She took a long, slow sip. “I trust you because Jack trusts you,” she said simply. “And that man has an impeccable moral compass.
“So, until further notice, you're working for me. Unofficially at first, but I'm going to pull every string I can to somehow get you reinstated with the LIS. Once you complete your 'rehabilitation,' I'm sending you back to Earth because I need every last resource I have pointed directly at Grecken Slade. You may not be a Justice Keeper, but I can count on one hand the number of peopl
e I trust right now. So, I'm stuck with you.”
“You certainly know how to fill a man with confidence,” Ben muttered. Of course, if he had half the brains he claimed to have, he would shut up and take the offer. It was a chance to get back to Darrel. Just thinking of his partner facing down that awful family of his without any support from Ben was a knife in his chest.
“In the meantime,” Larani went on, “you are going to become the very definition of a reformed convict. You will attend every therapy session, deduce precisely what your councilor wants to hear and say exactly that with such conviction that jaded cynics would weep at the sincerity in your voice. You will abide by the terms of your parole, remaining inside the city limits at all times unless authorized to do otherwise. And finally, you will express a fervent support of Leyrian foreign policy that borders on jingoism. Do you have a problem with any of this, Mr. Loranai?”
“No, ma'am.”
“Then I can count on you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Ben said. “You can count on me.”
Chapter 28
The sun was high in the clear blue sky, shining down on a street lined with small, one-story houses. Just two lanes of black asphalt and no sidewalk. Deep ditches on either side would allow quite the nasty fall to anyone who wasn't careful.
Melissa walked with a hand pressed to her stomach, head hanging as she let out a deep breath. “We could really kick up trouble with this one,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “Amanda's father isn't going to like it.”
At her side, Jena strolled casually up the street in a pair of denim shorts and a blue tank-top. She wore a blank expression, her face unreadable, but the wind played with her short auburn hair. “One thing you learn in this business, kid,” she murmured. “You can't be afraid to piss off assholes who abuse their power.”
Melissa smiled down at the road, unable to suppress a chuckle. “Very true,” she said. “But even if this works, Amanda still has to live with the man for at least three more months, so…”
Not far ahead, another street intersected with this one, and Melissa could see that at least some of the houses there were a little bigger, the cars in each driveway a little more expensive. The text she'd received from Amanda said that the girl was babysitting at one of the houses on that street, making this an ideal time to catch her without worrying about her father's interference.
After turning the corner, she realized that the homes here were much larger and newer. In a small town like Manchester, there wasn't much of a divide between poor neighbourhoods and richer ones.
By a twist of luck, she spotted Amanda coming up the street in a blue dress with short sleeves. The girl shuffled along with her arms folded, her eyes fixed on the ground right in front of her.
“Hey!” Melissa called out.
Amanda looked up, blinking. “Hi!” she exclaimed, picking up the pace to join them on the corner. “Michael's father got back early; so he sent me home. Paid me a full night's fee, though.”
“Sometimes luck goes your way.”
Jena stepped forward, thrusting out her hand in greeting. The bright smile on her face would have made even the most insecure person feel at ease. Melissa wished she could do that. “Hello, Amanda. I'm Jena Morane.”
“Nice to meet you.”
They shook hands, but the look of skepticism on Amanda's face made it clear that she already suspected that Melissa had an ulterior motive for bringing someone new into her life. Well, that was mostly accurate. But they could exchange a few pleasantries first. There were certain social niceties you just didn't ignore. “How've you been?” she asked. “Are you practising the forms I showed you?”
Amanda smiled down at herself, a lock of hair falling over her cheek. “I try,” she mumbled. “But it's hard to find a chance to do it when my father's not looking. I'm not as…free-spirited as you.”
Blushing hard, Melissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose. “That's actually why we're here,” she said softly. “There's an opportunity we wanted to discuss with you.”
“An opportunity?”
Melissa retrieved a small tablet from her purse, powering it up to reveal a document on the screen. “A cultural exchange program,” she said, handing the device to Amanda. “You'd be invited to attend a Leyrian university.”
Amanda took the tablet and began skimming through its contents, her eyes slowly widening as she absorbed the details. “This is amazing!” she squeaked. “By why would they want to take me?”
“I pulled a few strings,” Jena explained, “called in a few favours, had them take a look at your transcripts. They say you're a talented young woman who could benefit from a broader experience. This would be an opportunity for you to study science, philosophy, literature. Whatever you choose. Best of all, your material needs would be seen to. You could live on Leyria for as long as you please, free of charge.”
“I…I don't know what to say.”
Jena smiled, bowing her head to the girl. “Say yes,” she replied with a quick shrug of her shoulders. “You wouldn't be legally eligible until after you've reached the age of majority, which I believe is eighteen here.”
“But what about…”
Melissa thrust her chin out, studying the girl for a very long moment. “Kevin?” she asked, raising one dark eyebrow. “It's funny you should ask. We just stopped by his place and made him similar offer. His father was ecstatic.”
The girl looked stunned.
“I won't lie to you, Amanda,” Jena broke in. “Once you turn eighteen, your father can't stop you from joining this program, but that doesn't mean he won't try. If you do this, it will almost certainly strain your relationship with him, but…It will also give you a chance to live your life on your own terms.”
For a moment, Amanda looked apprehensive, but stone-faced resolve quickly replaced any anxiety she might have felt. “May I keep the tablet?” she asked.
Anna was stretched out on her belly across the couch in her living room, her legs curled so that her feet were almost touching her butt. She looked up with strands of red hair falling over her face. “Sweetie, could you grab my tea?”
The kitchen in her little apartment had brown wooden cupboards and an island with a white counter-top. Her boyfriend stood there with his eyes downcast, staring into a mug that sent steam flowing up toward the ceiling. Something had been bothering him all day, but every time she asked, he just said it was nothing.
Bradley took the cup and strode into the living room, bending over to set it down on the coffee table. “There you go,” he said. “Peppermint tea with milk and a teaspoon of sugar.”
Planting her elbow on the couch cushion, Anna rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “Okay,” she said, her eyebrows rising. “Do you think you might be able to tell me why you're so unhappy?”
His face crumpled like one of those soda cans in the fist of an angry ten-year-old. “It's nothing,” he muttered, dropping into the chair on the other side of the room. “I've just had a long week.”
Anna frowned, then scrubbed a hand over her face, brushing bangs back from her forehead. “If you insist,” she murmured through a heavy sigh. “But don't say I didn't try to be a good girlfriend.”
He grunted.
“What?”
Bradley scowled, turning his head to stare down at the floor beside his chair. “You are a wonderful girlfriend.” The words sounded so forced it actually left a knot of anxiety in her chest.
Anna sat up straight.
Drawing her legs up against her chest, she hugged them and watched her partner for a very tense few seconds. “All right, now I'm insisting,” she said. “If you're going to be sullen – and clearly I'm the cause – let's talk about it.”
“It's not-”
“Enough.” Her chest was so tight with fear that she was surprised her shirt wasn't drenched with sweat. She hated fighting, hated rocking the boat in any relationship, but there were times when you just had to get
things out in the open. “What did I do? Let's just confront this now.”
He sank down in the chair with his arms folded, then threw his head back to look at the ceiling. “It's not what you did,” he replied gently. “It's what you didn't do. What you never do.”
“And what do I never do?”
“You never let me in.”
Anna was on her feet in two seconds, standing before him with both hands gripping the hem of her shirt, her head hanging in frustration. “I did not realize you felt that way,” she said. “I try to be as open as I can with you.”
“You never tell me anything!”
Anna felt tears on her cheeks, heat burning in her skin. “I tell you everything!” she hissed, striding toward him with the fury of a hurricane. “When I feel stressed, I tell you! When one of my cases goes sideways, I tell you!”
Bradley stood up, towering over her, but if that was supposed to leave her feeling intimidated, she had to admit she was unimpressed. The pain on his face, however…that took the wind from her lungs. “And do you want to know what you tell me about most? Jack fucking Hunter. Everything he does, everything he says.”
“Because he's my partner?”
“Really? I thought I was your partner.”
Crossing her arms with a soft sigh, Anna frowned down at herself. “That's not what I mean,” she whispered. “He's the person that I interact with every day, and it's not fair of you to twist my words.”
In response, Bradley turned so that she saw him in profile and marched over to the window. He remained there for a little while, hands gripping the wooden windowsill as he stared out at the city. “And you don't see a problem here?”
“Why would I?”
A small part of her – a tiny voice that she had been ignoring for several days now – whispered that Bradley had noticed something that she was trying very hard not to notice. That moment of tenderness between her and Jack. Some part of her wondered if maybe they had gone just a little too far. She had wanted to believe it was nothing but a figment of her imagination, a product of her own insecurity. But if Bradley saw it too…
