Friction

by R S Penney

  There was work to do.

  Chapter 13

  The hallway outside the living quarters on Station 12 stretched on for what felt like the length of a city block. If you looked far enough into the distance, you could see the gentle curve of the circular station.

  Metal bulkheads punctuated by the odd set of double doors lined each wall, and gray carpets covered the floor. With the onset of evening, station time, the place was all but deserted.

  Jack stood alone.

  He had called Jena earlier only to learn that she wasn't in her office. Five minutes after leaving a voice message, he received a text instructing him to drop by her quarters. Apparently she was on her way out for the evening and wanted to talk before she left.

  Crossing his arms, Jack frowned at the door. “With my luck, it's probably more bad news,” he said with a shrug. “Some other set of grisly deaths and a notice from Slade that he's taking us off the case.”

  He rang the chime.

  When the doors slid open, he stepped into a posh living room with long rectangular windows on the far wall. Windows that looked out on a field of stars. Several comfortable chairs were positioned around a glass coffee table where roses sat in a vase. So far as he could tell, Jena's quarters were as big as his apartment.

  She emerged from the bathroom in a strapless black dress with a skirt that flared at the knee, her hair still wet from a recent shower. “There you are,” she said, pacing across the room. “What do you think?”

  Lifting his chin, Jack studied her for a long moment. He arched one dark eyebrow. “Heading out for a night on the town?” he inquired. “You look okay to me. So who's the lucky guy or girl?”

  “You are.”

  He smiled, unable to ignore the warmth in his face. He bowed his head so that she wouldn't see. “Well…I'm flattered,” Jack stammered. “But don't you think it's unwise to cross professional-”

  “Relax, kid,” she said. “That's not what I meant.”

  She turned her back on him and marched over to the bathroom door, pausing there as if looking for something. “You're twenty years younger than me and not my type,” she added. “This is strictly business.”

  Jena turned around.

  She looked up to meet his gaze with dark brown eyes, blinking a few times. “I'm supposed to attend some party with Peter Tombs and a few other MPs,” Jena explained. “You're my date.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because I want you to get a sense of how the game is played,” she said. “Half the department heads will be there along with key players in your government. You're going to watch and learn.”

  Jack stood before her with arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I'm not sure I like this,” he said softly. “Aren't Keepers supposed to be exemplars of moral behaviour? Shouldn't we be above politics?”

  She grinned, her cheeks flushed to a soft red. Shaking her head slowly, Jena let out a chuckle. “There's theory and there's practice, kid,” she answered. “Most people who go into public service really do care about their society, but they learn that playing the game is the only way to get things done.”

  He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Not very good, he suspected. Chatting with Summer had granted him some insight into the Nassai perspective. Her people had no understanding of politics – it didn't jive with their concept of right and wrong – but they were willing to make some concessions to human idiosyncrasies if that furthered higher ideals. When Jack pointed out that Summer really did understand politics after all, she only glared at him.

  “Okay,” he said. “Just let me stop at home to-”

  Jena shook her head. “Unnecessary,” she said, turning around and gliding through her bedroom door. “I took the liberty of having something fabricated for you. It seemed prudent.”

  A few seconds later, she reappeared with a hanger that supported a pair of dark gray pants and a black shirt. Most clothing could be fabricated by automated-tailor machines if you knew the proper measurements. He wasn't about to ask how Jena had acquired his. The woman was sneaky!

  Slipping hands into his blue-jean pockets, Jack started forward with his head down. “All right,” he said with a nod. “I'll go to the party. But this better not lead to any strange office rumors.”

  “Please,” she said. “Those have already started.”

  A few minutes later, he was appraising his reflection in the bathroom mirror, noting how out of place he felt. Politics was the domain of the higher-ups; he was a lowly grunt and he intended to stay that way.

  Jack watched his face contort in the mirror. He shook his head and let out a sigh. “I get that you're trying to groom me,” he said, turning around. “But I still think that I'm the wrong candidate for your attention.”

  Through the door, he saw Jena standing before him with arms folded, nodding to herself as she inspected his appearance. “Nonsense,” she said. “You doubt yourself too much, Jack.”

  “Politics is not my strong suit.”

  “Which is a good thing,” she insisted. “I've told you before: a Keeper isn't supposed to win popularity contests. I am only teaching you how to fight effectively against people who will use the system against you. Now let's go. We're supposed to be there by eight.”

  The banquet hall was done in themes of gold and crimson with large red curtains framing rectangular windows on the far wall. Round tables with pristine white tablecloths made a square around the empty dance floor, each filled with well-dressed people of all ages. When MPs threw a party, they spared no expense.

  Jack walked through the door in his gray pants and jacket, his hair combed so that the bangs weren't quite so messy. “Well, I feel out of place,” he muttered. “You sure you couldn't take someone a little older?”

  His boss fell in at his side. Unlike Jack, she seemed perfectly at ease, scanning the room like a wolf choosing its prey. “Relax, we look the same age,” she said. “And tonight will be good for you.”

  Pressing his lips together, Jack turned his head and surveyed the room. “Real nice and fancy,” he said, blinking. “You know, I used to get invited to all sorts of parties just like this one.”

  Jena was smiling down at herself, shaking her head slowly. “Until you turned on the classic Hunter charm,” she said, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek. “I'll bet that went about as well as expected.”

  Jack bit his lip, his face suddenly red-hot. He closed his eyes and nodded once. “I started calling politicians on their bad decisions,” he explained. “After that, those invites just stopped finding their way to my mailbox.”

  She laughed.

  The other Keepers were seated at a table near the back wall. He could already pick out Slade in a purple jacket with long dark hair hanging loose over his shoulders. Breslan was a few seats over, scowling at an empty plate. The man looked like he would rather have the flu than come here.

  There were others. Larani Tal – a slim woman in a red dress that went beautifully with her dark complexion – sat in a chair with a distant expression. If memory served, she headed the Western Canada division.

  Several team leads – people with rank equal to that of Jena – were present as well. Jack didn't recognize them on sight. He felt an immediate sense of anxiety that Summer tried to soothe. Most of those people would probably know his name. Making waves had that effect.

  “Come on.”

  Jena started forward, gliding across the carpet with exquisite poise. “We won't get anything done standing here,” she added. “Stick close to me, and remember to listen well to everything you hear.”

  Jack frowned, turning his face up toward the ceiling. He blinked a few times. Lord, I know I'm not your most dedicated son, he began, but if you could arrange some way to get me out of here, I'd be appreciative.

  He followed.

  Chatter at the table died as several heads turned to fix on Jena. Slade rose from his chair in one graceful motion. “Director Morane,” he said with a broad smile. “So pleased you could joi
n us.”

  Jena faced him with her back straight, her head held high. Oh what he would have given to see her expression! “You know me, Director,” she replied. “Never one to miss a good party.”

  “Indeed.”

  Dark eyes fell on Jack, and he could almost see a vein trembling in Slade's brow. “You brought Agent Hunter,” he said in flat tones. “An interesting choice of companions if I may say so.”

  Blushing like the sun, Jack smiled and bowed his head to the man. “I pride myself on being interesting,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, Director Morane tells me there's a lot I could learn here.”

  Slade watched him with a face as smooth as porcelain, blinking slowly. “How very true,” he said with a curt nod. “I think, Agent Hunter, that you will find there is much you can learn when in the right company.”

  Jack took a seat between Jena and Larani Tal, watching candlelight reflect off the glossy surface of his plate. There were a few pleasantries – a few introductions to people he hadn't met – and then the conversation resumed.

  At first, everyone made smalltalk. Glin Karon's prized rose garden became a hot topic in less than two minutes. The man had apparently been growing exquisite flowers since before he had bonded his symbiont. Jack wished he had something of substance to add to this conversation. He recalled Anna mentioning something about her sister having a green thumb, but that was as far as his knowledge on the subject went. He chose to stay silent and watch.

  Jena, it seemed, was an avid conversationalist, responding to everything with a sly smile and a playfully witty retort. Watching her work, Jack almost felt as though his boss had transformed into an entirely different person, but just when he thought she'd taken on the form of Stepford Keeper, she threw out the odd one-liner that left everyone silent for ten seconds before they all burst out laughing.

  He wasn't entirely sure precisely what he was supposed to learn. Jena managed to woo everyone because she was comfortable in her own skin. Was that to lesson? To thine own self be true?

  Fifteen minutes into the evening, the lights dimmed, and the buzz of conversation that had filled the room went silent. A large spotlight fell upon a podium positioned in the middle of the back wall.

  Peter Tombs strode across the dance floor with cue-cards in hand, making his way toward the podium. So they were in for a speech, were they? Well, nothing made a fancy party better than speeches.

  Tombs took his position.

  He wore a bright smile as he surveyed the crowd, gripping the sides of the podium with both hands. “Good evening,” he said in a steady voice. “I'd like to thank you all for coming; this is a truly important occasion.

  “We threw this party to make one thing abundantly clear,” he went on. “We're not afraid, and we're not about to let the actions of a cowardly man sow division between us. Tonight, we celebrate our alliance with our Leyrian brothers and sisters.

  “I spoke with the Prime Minister this morning, and he assures me that Canada will remain committed to its partnership with Leyria and the Justice Keepers. As we speak, a joint task force of Justice Keepers and our best RCMP officers is hunting down this man. We will not rest until he is brought to justice.”

  A soft ripple of applause went through the room.

  Jack felt his mouth stretch in a yawn. He pressed a fist to his lips, turning his face away. God save me from pompous windbags, he thought. People are dying out there, and this guy's response is “let's party!”

  Guilt wormed its way into his belly. He knew he ought to be working rather than sitting here and listening to this nonsense. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jena smile. Perhaps she was having a similar thought.

  Tombs, for his part, stood hunched over the podium with a determined expression that you'd normally only find on an old lady playing Bingo. “So if the terrorist can hear me,” he added, “I'm telling you now: it will not work. You aren't going to shake us; you aren't going to rattle us. We will remain united!”

  More applause.

  Slade watched the whole thing, nodding slowly as if the Minister of Justice had started rhyming off points in a speech he'd written. Perhaps he had. Slade did put quite a bit of stock in appearances.

  “Tonight we celebrate,” Tombs went on. “Tomorrow, we redouble our efforts. I've just approved a new plan with Senior Director Slade. As of right now, multiple teams of Keepers will be committed to bringing this terrorist to justice.”

  That earned thundering applause.

  Several media officials who stood on the dance floor with cameras pointed at the minister of justice exchanged glances. A few reporters rushed forward with microphones thrust out like spears.

  Peter tombs smiled, nodding to each of them in turn. He raised a hand to call for calm. “I will answer all your questions in just a few minutes,” he assured them. “For now, I'd like to end this speech by saying thank you for coming, and enjoy the party!”

  Jack had never been one to consider himself sensitive to vibes, but even he could tell that the mood throughout the room had shifted. People were sharing smiles with their neighbours and cheered their approval. It was as if they thought their troubles were over simply because someone had told them not to worry.

  Slade clapped hardest of all.

  Jena watched him with a smooth face, like a sniper lining up the perfect shot. “Was this your idea?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Assigning multiple teams to this to catch this man? Don't you think we'll get in each other's way?”

  Slade matched her stare for stare, as cold as a block of ice. “This situation demands extra attention,” he replied. “Thus far, we have seen no tangible results. Nothing to assure our Canadian friends that we are capable of protecting them.”

  Jena sat back with her arms crossed, glaring at the man. “I don't believe this,” she said, shaking her head. “Now, you want to take this threat seriously? After sitting on your heels for weeks?”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  Jack felt his stomach lurch.

  On his right, Larani Tal frowned into a glass of water, no doubt wishing that it was something stronger. “By the Loving Companion, Jena,” she said, lifting the glass. “Must you stir up controversy at every opportunity?”

  Jack couldn't help but notice Breslan sitting across the table with a scowl that could split wood as well as any ax. “You go too far, Morane,” he spat. “It seems that, like your new protégé, you have no understanding of the importance of presenting a united front in the eyes of these… terrans.”

  It was difficult to restrain the urge to throw out a one-liner. For centuries, Leyrians had called Earth by the same name the Overseers had used in the writings they had left behind: Terra Prime. However, no one on this world used that name, and referring to the people of Earth as “terrans” had become something of an insult.

  Grinning fiercely, Jena shut her eyes and tilted her head back. “None of you know the whole story, do you?” she asked with a chuckle. “You all heard that Jack caused some trouble, but you don't know why.”

  Breslan clenched his teeth, his face growing redder and redder, his brow glistening. “This is not the time, Morane!” he warned. “If you feel the need to discuss the misrepresentations spoken by one of your officers, do so in an appropriate-”

  “Jack brought down an arms dealer named Nicolae Petrov,” Jena cut in. “He did so against the express orders of his then supervising officer. I'm sure you all know that part. What you don't know is that Agent Hunter was granted a warrant by the city of Ottawa to arrest Petrov and search his property.

  “That warrant was in Jack's possession for two weeks while Director Breslan here continually frustrated his attempts to do his job. Meanwhile, Mr. Petrov continued to sell Leyrian weapons to local street toughs, and city officials lost confidence in our ability to keep this planet safe.

  “My 'protégé,' as you call him, made several attempts to clarify the rationale behind his orders, all of which are documented in his daily log entries. No explanation wa
s ever given. No reason for the delay.”

  “I was trying to trace Petrov's supplier!” The trembling vein in Breslan's forehead almost made coming here worth it. Jack had to restrain his elation at seeing his former supervisor off-balance. “I was going to stop the shipments at their source!”

  “Yeah, I don't buy it.”

  Planting her elbow on the table, Jena rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “Be honest, Breslan,” she said, eyebrows rising. “You could have found Petrov's supplier by interrogating Petrov. What's the real reason for your delay?”

  Larani Tal slid her chair back and stood, facing Slade with fire in her eyes. “Is this true?” she demanded. “Did one of our team leads deliberately impede an investigation? Did you sanction it?”

  The man looked up at her, blinking. “It is something of an oversimplification,” he said in that calm, collected voice of his. “Agent Hunter decided to take matters into his own hands.”

  “As would I!” Tal protested.

  Several other Keepers exchanged glances and anxious frowns. Once again, Jena had completely swept the rug out from under Slade. Though the results were glorious to behold, Jack couldn't help but worry that she was making herself a target for retaliation.

  “I have questioned your competence in the past, Slade,” Tal went on. “But this is beyond the pale. You will receive no further support from me.”

  With that, she turned and walked away.

  Four of the ten Keepers still seated rose and went with her, leaving only Jack, Jena, Breslan, Slade and two men that Jack did not know. The leaders of teams that worked out in the western provinces, he surmised.

  Grecken Slade sat back with a water glass in hand, lifting it slowly to his lips, “I must congratulate you, Director Morane,” he said before taking a sip. “That was a truly impressive display that I will not forget any time soon.”

  Breslan wasn't nearly as cordial. The man practically snarled like a dog ready to chew through his restraints. “Look around you, Director,” he hissed. “Everyone in this room is now wondering what just happened at this table.”