by R S Penney
Cocking her head to one side, Jena offered a sly little grin. “Afraid I might have overlooked something?” she asked, raising a thin eyebrow. “A good thing I have a copy of the report right here.”
With an exasperated sigh, Slade shook his head. “I would never insinuate incompetence on your part, Director,” he said, dropping back into his chair. “And I would be happy to read your report at another time.”
“Oh,” she mumbled. “Then I guess I should not have forwarded it to everyone in this room.”
Over a dozen phones chirped, buzzed and beeped, and multi-tools alerted Keepers to the presence of new mail. Half a moment later, just about everyone at the table was checking his or her inbox.
Jack buried his face in his hand, sighing into his palm. That had been a close one. “The situation is dire,” he said, looking up. “The recent string of murders have two things in common.”
“The use of Leyrian tech,” said the man across from him.
Pressing his lips together, Jack held the man's gaze. “That's one,” he said, nodding curtly. “The other is the noticeable level of brutality. Whoever's doing this is going out of his way to push the limits.”
The woman with the gray bun – Senator Mills – frowned, shutting her eyes tight as she considered the issue. “But why?” she asked. “What could be gained by drawing such attention to yourself?”
“Isn't it obvious?”
Jena paced a line behind them with her arms crossed, scowling as she shook her head. “The answer's there if you look, Senator,” she went on. “Driving a wedge between Earth and Leyria leaves Earth defenseless.”
Lifting his chin, Jack fixed his gaze upon the woman. “The ancient homeworld of humankind,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “Loaded with the secrets of the Overseers. I'm sure you can see the appeal.”
“If such secrets existed,” Peter Tombs cut in. “Don't you think someone would have discovered them?”
“Sure, you understand that,” Jena replied. “I understand that. Everyone who has set foot on this planet knows that it's just like every other human civilization in this galaxy. But for many of the people who grew up out there, Terra Prime was the stuff of legends. The Overseers left records of what they had done. Many of our societies evolved with the knowledge that the world we occupied was not our place of origin.
“When most people think of Terra Prime – of Earth – they think of a world littered with artifacts left behind by the Overseers. Some even believe that the Overseers are still here. If a war were to break out across the galaxy, rest assured that control of Earth would be a major objective for every participant.”
That left them unsettled. Every Earth-born human in the room was suddenly filled with a need to straighten ties, smooth skirts and check phones for updates. The Leyrians, for their part, remained calm and collected.
Standing beside him, Jena thrust her arm out over the table. “Multi-tool active,” she ordered. “Display map of galaxy.”
Rays of light streamed out from the silver disk on her gauntlet, coalescing to form an image of the Milky Way. Millions of tiny white flecks hovered over the table, packed so tightly together the disk-shaped galaxy almost seemed solid.
“Here's your world,” Jena began.
A single dot – one tiny little star on the edge of a spiral arm – turned green. From Jack's perspective, it was located in the six-o'clock position, roughly halfway between the Core and the Rim.
“And this is Leyrian space.”
On the galaxy map, a blue blob appeared, taking up much of the space between Six and Seven and filling most of the middle third between the Core and The Rim. Leyrian Space was large enough to encompass millions of star systems but only a few dozen of those would have human colonies.
Next, a red blob appeared between Seven and Eight. This one was far smaller than its blue companion, but if Jack's understanding of the situation was correct, the Antaurans were much more aggressive in their attempts to colonize their space. “Antauran Space,” Jena explained for anyone who didn't know. “Be thankful that we stand between you and them. They have a tendency to annex other worlds.”
On the other side of the Core, a huge section of the galaxy turned orange: a large region that claimed most of the stars between Twelve and Two. If the two images were overlaid, this new area would easily gobble up both Leyrian and Antauran Space. “This territory belongs to the Ragnos Confederacy,” Jena said. “We know so little about them. The vast distances between us make direct contact impossible. It would take our fastest ship nearly eighteen months to reach that part of the Milky Way.
“Through communication via the SlipGate Network, we know that they possess a level of technological sophistication comparable to our own. We've estimated the borders of their space by pinging active SlipGates and determining their coordinates. However, the Ragnosians are extremely xenophobic.”
The hologram vanished.
Jack became aware of nearly two dozen stunned faces, frightened expressions on Earthers and Leyrians alike. The latter were likely afraid that Jena had permanently upset the delicate political balance between their two peoples. At that moment, Jack didn't care if she had.
His new boss stood with her arms folded, observing the seated assembly. “As you can see, Earth is vulnerable,” she began. “If your world tries to sever ties with Leyria, we will honour your wishes, but don't be surprised if you find yourself ripe pickings for the Antaurans in the near future.”
“Yes, well…” Peter Tombs said. “You can rest assured that Canada has no intention of severing ties with Leyria.” Thirteen heads bobbed their immediate agreement, and the Leyrian dignitaries relaxed.
The small, almost imperceptible smile on Slade's face told Jack that Jena had just played right into the other man's hands. Maintaining good relations with Earth was a very big part of his agenda. Slade had been trying to accomplish that task by smoothing over the fears of Earth's major governments, but Jena's little demonstration had convinced him that stoking those fears would work just as well. It was almost enough to make Jack wish that his boss hadn't been quite so forthright.
Then he noticed Jena's body language. She was pleased. Hiding it well, but pleased nonetheless. If his guess was right, Jena's spiel had not been a blunder but a deliberate attempt to placate Slade while serving her own ends. After all, the Keepers couldn't do their jobs if Earth's governments weren't willing to cooperate.
Hunching over with arms folded, Peter Tombs cleared his throat. “With that fact established,” he said, frowning into his lap. “What exactly do you propose that we do, Director Morane?”
Jena set her jaw and watched him through narrowed eyes. “I'm glad you asked,” she said, nodding slowly. “Rest assured that these murders are a deliberate effort to destroy the good relations between our two peoples.”
“If we let them divide us,” Jack added, leaning over the table, “it will be a win for the people who would use Earth's resources for their own ends.”
“Hunter and I have made good headway into this investigation,” Jena finished. “We would like your blessing to take point on this investigation.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Slade's face darkened. So that was Jena's plan. Frighten the locals into accepting her help, then demonstrate competence. He could tell that it had worked.
Every Canadian in the room looked swayed. Peter Tomb's staff began exchanging glances. The CSIS officers made approving noises, and the representatives from the RCMP looked positively relieved. The only people who didn't seem pleased were Slade, Breslan and the rest of their cronies.
The head of the Justice Keepers leaned back in his chair with an icy expression, his gaze fixed on Jena. “We have consensus then,” he said with a nod. “Director Morane will spearhead the investigation into the recent string of murders involving the use of Leyrian weaponry.”
The obligatory 'for now' was left unspoken. One thing was abundantly clear to Jack: Slade did not want Jena in charge of this investigation. The
reason for his misgivings remained a mystery. Slade clearly wanted to maintain the good relations between Earth and Leyria; by demonstrating competence, Jena had done just that. What was the man playing at?
Something about the incident with Petrov left him uncomfortable. Even if Breslan's motivations were exactly what he claimed them to be – a desire to use Petrov to trace his suppliers – there was no reason they couldn't accomplish that task with the man safely in custody. It wasn't as though the Brass among the Keepers wanted an underground market for stolen Leyrian tech.
Was it?
No, that was ludicrous. The slippery slope that led from legitimate suspicions to insane conspiracy theories was far steeper than most people thought. He may disagree with their methods, but there was no reason to believe that his goals were not the same as their goals. No reason.
“Agent Hunter.”
The sound of another man's voice made him jump. When he came back to reality, he noticed one of the higher-ups with the RCMP leaning over the table with a very stern expression.
Kyle Harrison was a middle-aged man with thick gray beard that stretched from ear to ear and not one hair atop his tanned head. “You make some compelling arguments,” he said. “I'm impressed.”
“Most of the credit belongs to Director Morane,” Jack replied.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jena clasping hands with one of Tomb's aides, smiling and assuring the woman that Ottawa was in capable hands. Jack just hoped that they could deliver on that promise.
If they couldn't, it would mean their heads.
Chapter 8
Pillars rose from floor to ceiling amid the round tables that were spread out across the red-carpeted floor, caught in the light of faux-lanterns on each wall. Several dozen people had come here to eat, clustered together in little groups of three or four, all seated at tables with a little candle in the middle.
Anna took a few steps into the restaurant.
She wore a navy blue dress with tiny white polka dots from the hem of her skirt to the tip of each short sleeve. Her hair was done up in its customary ponytail with beaded strands framing her face.
Pressing her lips into a thin line, Anna closed her eyes. “You're making a mistake here,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You've got no right leading him on when your heart belongs to someone else.”
Of course, that someone else was inaccessible and would likely remain inaccessible well into the future. Little girls dreamed about romantic reunions; adults moved on with their lives. And Daython was a decent man.
Anna shut her eyes tight, bowing her head. Well, if you're going to go through with this, she thought, striding across the room, you may as well just bite the bullet and get on with it.
Daython was seated at a round table with his elbows on its surface, dressed in a black button-up shirt. He glanced over his shoulder, face lighting up when he saw her. “Hey! I'm glad you made it!”
Anna flashed a smile, her cheeks growing warm. She lowered her eyes to the floor. “Well, I said I would, didn't I?” she replied in a soft voice. “So you know this place better than I do.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“What do you recommend?”
Craning his neck, he stared at her with dark eyes that reflected the lamplight. “Well, I like the roast duck,” he said. “But I'm thinking that may not be exactly what you had in mind.”
“Not quite, no.”
In all honesty, this place was a little posh for her taste, but she could understand why Daython might feel otherwise. Her father was a diplomat; so she had seen more than her fair share of elegant ball rooms and banquet halls, and she had decided long ago that she would much rather have dinner on a quiet little street-side patio. Her sister was far more suited to all that pomp and circumstance.
As a junior member of the Diplomatic Corps, Daython had probably grown used to a certain level of formality. That left her a little uneasy, but she could play along for now. “I could really go for a nice salad.”
She took a seat and made with the smalltalk, the traditional pleasantries that one exchanged on a first date. That was her favourite part: getting to know someone. It wasn't Daython in particular; Anna just liked to meet new people.
“So why the Justice Keepers?” Daython asked.
“As a career, you mean?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Curiosity, I suppose.” Anna bit her lip, turning her face up to the ceiling. “Ever since I was a little girl, I've wondered what was out beyond the furthest star. Becoming a Justice Keeper gave me a chance to find out.”
She told him about the attack by Antauron loyalists, the damage to her ship and the failure in her Nassai's containment unit. Bringing up those memories stirred feelings in her symbiont, feelings that he chose to share with her. It was embarrassing but strangely empowering to sense the deep respect her Nassai had for her.
You need a name, she thought at the symbiont.
He responded with a mix of curiosity and approval.
Daython pressed his lips together, watching her with a curious expression. “What's it like?” he asked, creases forming in his brow. “Having another mind there with you at all times?”
Anna closed her eyes, tossing a lock of hair over her ear with a flick of her head. “It really isn't that different from everyday life,” she explained. “Nassai like to remain silent observers for the most part.”
“Do you ever talk with it?”
“Sometimes.”
His puzzled expression made it clear that he was trying to work out exactly what that would mean for a relationship. That was something that often troubled non-Keepers: wondering whether they'd be having a relationship with two people. Of course, Nassai did not couple in that way.
The Nassai shared a group consciousness, a blending of thought and emotion. They viewed bonding with a human as a learning experience. Her symbiont would share her feelings and gain a deeper understanding of the universe from them, but he would not share in them.
Anna lifted her glass of water, choosing her words as she took a sip. “My symbiont is content to give us some privacy,” she explained. “The Nassai understand, through the bonding, how much humans value their individuality.”
Daython shut his eyes, heaving out a sigh. He practically slumped over in his chair. “Well, that's a relief.” The words came out as a sharp rasp. “I have to admit that I wasn't thrilled at the idea of being spied on.”
“Do I need to point out that Davin and I are a package deal?”
“Who's Dav?”
“Apparently, no one,” she said. “I was trying out a name for my symbiont, but he doesn't seem to care for that one.” She had decided to name the Nassai after a hero in one of her children's stories, but the intense burst of dislike that flowed through her mind told her that was not a very good idea. Back to the drawing board then.
Before Daython could reply, a hologram flickered into existence next to their table, the transparent image of a short man in a white shirt under a black vest. “Good evening, sir, madame,” he said with a bob of his head. “May I bring you something to drink?”
From what Anna had been told, the earliest serving holos had been programmed to appear the instant guests sat down, but customers had found that abrasive. It turned out people enjoyed the experience of waiting and chatting a few minutes before ordering a meal. It made the act of dining out feel more authentic. Of course, you could summon a hologram at any time. “I'm fine with water, thank you.” Anna replied.
“Very good. And for you, Sir?”
Daython looked up with a smile on his face. A smug smile that left her feeling a tad… off. “A Lavalsan Red,” he answered. “The 31, if you have it. If not, I'd be happy to try the 25.”
“Excellent choice, Sir.”
The hologram vanished.
Anna smiled into her glass, trying not to chuckle. So he was one of those men who thought to impress a lady with knowledge of fine wine. “I'm afraid I've never developed much of a taste fo
r spirits,” she said. “Nassai dislike the sense of disorientation that comes from drinking alcohol. They're not big on caffeine either.”
With a blush that left him crimson, Daython smiled into his lap. “Well, perhaps you could convince Davin to let you try this one,” he said softly. “It's very dry. Quite possibly some of the best wine I've ever tasted.”
“I'll inquire.”
He rested an elbow on the table, leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand. “So tell me about yourself,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “How were you lucky enough to get assigned to Alios?”
Anna closed her eyes, taking a deep breath through her nose. “I don't think I'd call it luck,” she said with a shake of her head. “I'm the Keeper who discovered Earth. But they felt they needed people with more experience.”
“So they sent you here.”
A serving robot came rolling through the aisle between tables, carrying a large tray of drinks on its head. Short and stubby, the thing looked very much like a trash can with wheels. It paused beside their table while a mechanical arm reached up to grab Daython's wine glass by the stem.
“Yes, they sent me here,” Anna replied while the bot placed the glass down on the table with such expert care it barely disturbed the dark liquid inside. “I've been here for almost three years now.” Should she thank the robot? Anna knew they couldn't feel or think or even acknowledge verbal commands – customers interacted with the holograms, not the robots – but she'd always felt as though not saying something was impolite. Best to curb that impulse on a first date, she supposed. Talking to inanimate objects was just two steps away from talking to yourself.
Daython lifted his glass in one hand, taking a slow sip while the bot rolled away. “How do you like it here?” he inquired. “If nothing else, you have to admit that the weather is beautiful.”
“It's nice.”
He looked up to give her an inquisitive stare, one eyebrow slowly climbing upward. “Just nice,” Daython said softly. “You'll have to forgive me, but that's not exactly what I'd call a glowing endorsement.”
