Minder Rising: Central Galactic Concordance Book 2

by Carol Van Natta

  “You honor me with your trust, and I will do what I can for him. Have you scheduled his Testing Center appointment yet?”

  “Yes, it’s in a month, a couple of days before his legal birthday.” It was common practice to celebrate birthdays annually based on the local planetary cycle, but as far as the government was concerned, the official, legal birthday was based on the standardized Galactic Date and Time, or GDAT.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rayle discreetly signaling Imara. He opened his mouth to tell her, but she must have seen it and was already standing.

  “I’ll send Derrit with more water,” she said as she stepped away. She didn’t move like a dancer, like Rayle, but her natural athleticism gave the impression of competence. He could well imagine she commanded her road crew with ease, even if he had no idea what a road crew did. While he was a good pilot, both atmospheric and interstellar, he’d never learned to operate ground-based vehicles. And road-crew work in Spires, with its curving silicate roadways and elevated architecture, must be especially challenging.

  When Derrit brought the water, he sat across from Lièrén instead of leaving. “So what’s the first lesson?”

  Social niceties were hard to come by for impatient eleven-year-old boys. Lièrén smiled. “Research. I need to learn more about your talents, as do you.”

  “Mom already made me read a bunch of stuff on the net. Isn’t there anything I can, you know, do? To like, you know, practice?” He was fidgeting with eagerness.

  “Not yet.” Lièrén didn’t want to start anything so late in the evening. While it was only a little after eight, he still tired easily. He did want to talk about what happened with the telepath, though, and now was as good a time as any. “You’ve had an introductory sex class, haven’t you?”

  Derrit looked puzzled by the subject change, but answered readily. “Yeah, in spring, when I got my implant.” Lièrén nodded his approval. A few of his fellow Academy students hadn’t even known what the word “contraception” meant, and had needed remedial sex education to explain what was going on with their hormones and bodies when puberty hit.

  “Remember what we saw in the telepath’s memory? The… images he associated with sex?”

  Derrit nodded, his eyes a little darker.

  Lièrén didn’t like bringing it up, but it had to be dealt with. “What the telepath wanted, what he likes, isn’t about sex, it’s about control and domination. He gets pleasure from inflicting unwanted pain without consent. He’s just this side of being a predator, and whatever chems he took that evening impaired his judgment.”

  It was an ugly aberration that someone not quite twelve shouldn’t have to know about yet, but Derrit’s cleaning talent made it inevitable, sooner or later. Cleaners were often used in justice cases.

  “Good sex, healthy sex, is consensual. That means each sex partner knows what he or she is getting into. It should be safe, pleasurable, and fun.”

  Lièrén watched the anger grow in Derrit’s face and body as he realized what the telepath had wanted to do to hurt his mother. “You should have let me flatline the slagger.”

  “It’s not that simple. Thinking and fantasizing aren’t the same as doing, and the telepath wasn’t in control of himself. Yes, he was stupid to get warped on an unknown chem while traveling, which is why we left that part of his memory alone, so he’d learn.” Lièrén reached across the table and put his hand on top of Derrit’s clenched fist. “You have a powerful talent, Derrit, and it comes with extra responsibility. You must be certain that erasing memories is the right thing to do, because it’s not like a game. There is no reset option if you make a mistake. People are scared of cleaners with good reason.”

  As the implications sank in, Derrit’s fist relaxed. Lièrén sat back to let Derrit think about what he’d said.

  After several moments, Derrit looked over at his mother, who was laughing at something Rayle had said. “Rayle talks like he wants to have sex with everyone, and I know he likes having fun. Do you think he wants to have sex with my mom?”

  Lièrén blinked at the change in subject, then realized he should have expected it. Kids Derrit’s age were never more than a thought or two away from the topic of sex. Some never grew out of it.

  “Perhaps he does,” said Lièrén, though he believed Rayle preferred males, or at least, was more truthful when flirting with them. However, if Rayle did want to hot-connect with Imara, Lièrén couldn’t fault the man’s good taste. “I don’t know Rayle well enough to say.”

  A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over Lièrén, like an interstellar drive suddenly running out of flux. It hadn’t happened for the last couple of nights, so he’d hoped he was getting better, but apparently and depressingly not. His headache was back, too. He wondered if it was the ordinary price of being a sifter, or if it was just him. The only other high-level sifter he knew was his CPS-ordered therapist, for dealing with the post-accident stress, and Lièrén had to be careful about what ended up in his official records. Confidentiality took a back seat to the CPS’s need to be able to trust its covert field agents.

  “Are you okay, Agent Sòng?” asked Derrit. “You look sick. Can I get you something?”

  Lièrén smiled, absurdly comforted by being fussed over. “Thank you for your concern, Master Derrit. I’m just tired. It’s time I went back to my suite.” He started to use his percomp to settle his bar tab, when he remembered Imara’s offer of a trade. If he insisted on paying now, it would upset her. Life’s little negotiations were sometimes a delicate balance.

  He slid out of the booth and stood up, and Derrit followed suit. Lièrén blinked against the pain caused by the bright lights. One of the reasons he liked the little back booth was its comparative darkness, which was easier on his persistent headaches.

  Imara came out from behind the bar. “Leaving?”

  “Yes, and thank you both for another pleasant evening.” He made sure to include Derrit in his praise.

  “May I escort you to your room, Agent Sòng?” Derrit asked in an unexpectedly dignified tone.

  “Derrit, I don’t think…” began Imara.

  Lièrén interrupted. “I would be most honored, Master Derrit.” He liked the thought that Derrit worried about him, and children should be encouraged to take care of older people, even though Lièrén was only thirty-two.

  Imara gave him a quick, genuine smile before hiding it from Derrit, and Rayle winked at him from behind the bar as they walked by.

  At the door to his room, Lièrén again thanked Derrit.

  “You like my mother, don’t you?” Derrit asked.

  Lièrén slowly unlocked the doorway to give himself time to respond to the loaded question. “I respect your mother a great deal,” he said carefully. It was better to speak the truth, when possible, if not exactly the truth the questioner was looking for.

  The answer seemed to satisfy Derrit, because he nodded. “See you the day after tomorrow.”

  As Lièrén sealed his door and dimmed the lights to a more comfortable level, he wondered if Derrit was hoping he’d start something with Imara. If so, Derrit was doomed to disappointment. Lièrén would eventually be healthy enough to return to his regular field-unit job, which had destroyed all his previous relationships. In the last couple of years, he’d given up even trying for long-distance love affairs, or even casual hot-connect-when-convenient arrangements. After a while, even the most tolerant of lovers stopped believing that working on tedious trade disputes took him away for months at a time. His partner, Fiyon, had often groused about what a dumb cover story it was, and Lièrén had to agree.

  He stripped off his clothes and left them draped on the chair. He’d take care of them in the morning. He wondered who his new partner would be, or if maybe he’d be assigned a new rookie to train. On second thought, that seemed unlikely, since he only had ten years of experience, far less than anyone else in the field unit. Even when they replaced Baretti and Apfel, it would probably be with experienced CPS
minders, not recent graduates.

  He smiled ruefully at himself as he slid between the soft sheets of his large bed. He was just like Derrit, wanting to be taken seriously by the adults.

  CHAPTER 4

  * Planet: Concordance Prime * GDAT 3238.210 *

  “Catch him!”

  A fluffy-tailed red fox puppy made a mad dash around Lièrén’s feet, then took off toward the ornamental maple trees at the center of the park, hotly pursued by five laughing, shouting children, the oldest of which was twelve. Lièrén laughed, as did the woman next to him.

  Nàiměi Sòng, seated to his left on the bench, turned to look at him. “Didi, it’s good to see you smile.” She was his oldest sister, and this year only, twice his age, a fact he’d teased her about earlier, which was why she called him by the family nickname of “young brother” now. She had intelligent eyes and graceful mannerisms, and thanks to the Sòng family genes and good body-shop work, she looked barely over thirty.

  “It’s good to be smiling, lǎo mèi.” He emphasized the “old” part of her nickname that meant “old sister.” He gestured toward the rambunctious children. “They have so much energy. How could I not?”

  It was a warm, sunny day without being too hot. For once, no rain was in the forecast, but the park wasn’t as crowded as it could have been because of the wind. He was glad he hadn’t chosen to wear a kilt that day. The greenery was a pleasant change from the hard reflective surfaces of Spires glass. The swarms of adbots that annoyed tourists on the walkways were blessedly few and far between in the park, in part because they were distracted by fluttering plant leaves.

  Nàiměi had wanted to visit one of the twelve famous lotus blossom parks, but Lièrén had talked her out of it, vaguely citing safety concerns, and pointing to the recent “death by misadventure” off one of them only last week. That was the CPS’s official story for the murder-suicide of his two coworkers. The OII investigators had found a journal that revealed Baretti’s unhealthy obsession with Apfel. Lièrén had taken it at face value when the OII mentioned it, but he’d since come to wonder how the periodic telepath counseling sessions they all were required to have had missed it. In any case, he didn’t want any of his family near the skyward parks, regardless of how safe the city claimed they were.

  “Death by misadventure, hmm?” asked Nàiměi skeptically. “More likely it was idiot daredevils, imagining they were immortal. Like a certain younger brother on a tightrope between school rooftops.”

  That had been a misadventure, all right, but he and the other students had survived, thanks to the telekinetic in the group, and it had become an Academy legend.

  “Don’t worry, Nàiměi,” he’d told her. “The accident cured me of any such ambitions I might have had. I find I don’t care for free-falling.”

  Lièrén was grateful to be feeling better than he had only a week ago, even though his thighs and back were stiffening up from his morning at the gym. The constant headaches had finally eased up, and the medics had cleared him for moderate exercise of his own choosing. He’d elected to begin a gentle program of blended martial arts, a slow meditative form and a combat style for building strength and flexibility. When he’d been in school, he’d originally chosen martial arts as the least objectionable of the required exercise programs they offered, and had come to enjoy it in time. He’d fallen out of the habit while working for the field unit, since he couldn’t predict when he’d be available for classes, but it felt good enough now that he planned to make a better effort once he returned to duty.

  Little six-year-old Jing, the youngest and least athletic of Lièrén’s grand-nieces, had given up chasing the puppy, and now approached Lièrén, looking at him hopefully. He held out a hand to her, and she took it as an invitation to clamber into his lap and snuggle. She was small, warm, and wiggly.

  “Nǐ xiǎng tīng tīng yīnyuè?” she asked, holding out one of her earwires to him.

  “We’re speaking English today, Jing,” admonished Nàiměi. She was determined that her grandchildren wouldn’t be limited to the Mandarin that prevailed in the family compound, which these days was more the size of a small town. Families with frontier origins often increased their homestead by acquiring additional parcels of land for housing multiple branches as the family grew and prospered. The enterprising Sòng family had long ago expanded and incorporated their real estate holdings, which served as the launch pad for their extensive portfolio diversification.

  “Yes, nǎinai… Grandmother. Would you like to listen to some music, lǎo shūshu?” It amused him to be called “old uncle” at his age, even though he really was her great-uncle. He imagined Nàiměi had felt similarly when he’d been a child and started her “old sister” nickname. He was the only progeny from a later, second marriage for his father, after a divorce from his first wife, the mother of Nàiměi and her five brothers and sisters. The mixed generational blend was common among families that had thrived for centuries.

  He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like in preflight days, when people were lucky to live long enough to get to know their grandchildren. His great-grandfather, Sòng Tiān Cì, had at least fifteen children that Lièrén knew of, and as widely traveled and unapologetically lusty as the older man was, maybe more. Most of them had children and grandchildren themselves, meaning Lièrén’s branch of the Sòngs was well populated and genetically diverse. And that didn’t even count the “adoptions,” the legal loophole the family trust exploited to bring desirable outside skills into their various enterprises.

  “Yes, thank you, it’s kind of you to share with me.” He took the earwire from her and adhered it to the side of his face. The music was a lively children’s song about the seven moons of Zahmanha. The words were silly, but the tune was infectious, and Jing sang artlessly along with the chorus. Lièrén was content to hold her and nod his head to the beat.

  Huan, the oldest boy, called to Jing, and she scrambled off Lièrén’s lap to run after him. Lièrén removed the earwire and offered it to Nàiměi.

  She took it with a smile. “Tell me about your personal life, didi,” she said as she put the earwire in her pocket. “Do you have someone to make you happy? Someone to celebrate your birthday, or to wait up late for?”

  Lièrén had known this conversation was coming from the moment Nàiměi had announced her impromptu visit. While it might well be an educational field trip to Concordance Prime for the grandchildren, she’d undoubtedly been deputized by his great-grandfather and the board of the Sòng Family Trust to check up on him after the accident. Nàiměi’s mission in life was to get all her siblings blissfully paired off and raising the next generation in her branch of the Sòngs, and he was the last holdout.

  “Not at present,” he replied. He thought back to his birthday eight months ago, but couldn’t remember if he’d gone out or stayed in his quarters. Whatever he’d done, it must not have made an impression.

  She made a disapproving sound. “Well, you should. You need balance. You love children, and you’re good with them. You should have some of your own.”

  “There’s still time,” he said mildly. With human fertility now extended to age ninety and beyond, most people waited until they were in their forties to have their first child, after they’d established a career and could afford it. Of course, his body first had to recover enough for him to have sex.

  “What about that tall blonde woman? The one Uncle Po met when he visited you at that space station, seven or eight years ago.”

  He wondered who she was talking about. Not that he’d had all that many girlfriends, but his relationships tended not to last because of his job. His sluggish memory finally cooperated. “Birkett Hjolland. She signed a cohab with someone else while I was on a long assignment.”

  “She didn’t deserve you, then. What about that other woman, Rana? Mira? Mika? And the man, whose name I forget.”

  That he remembered all too clearly, because it was the last relationship he’d failed at. “It didn’t w
ork out. There was a sharing problem.”

  She nodded sagely. “The other man didn’t want to share the woman, I take it?”

  “No, he didn’t want to share me. I’d hoped he’d be there for her when I wasn’t. As always, my job kept me away for too many weeks at a time, and the whole thing collapsed.”

  Nàiměi sighed. “I hate to sound like Great-Grandfather, but have you considered finding another, less difficult career than the CPS? It isn’t the only option, even considering your twist talent.”

  Lièrén tried not to wince. This was the other conversation he’d known was inevitable. Sòng Tiān Cì was of the opinion that the Citizen Protection Service was the root of all that was evil in the Central Galactic Concordance, and that when Lièrén had tested so highly at age twelve, his greedy parents sold him to the CPS Academy in exchange for money and prestige. His great-grandfather also accused Lièrén of being lazy and taking the easy path in accepting the field-unit position after graduating from both the Academy and the CPS Minder Institute with top-tier evaluations. Lièrén had received many pings from him over the years that were all variations on demanding that Lièrén live up to his potential and come to his senses about the CPS.

  “I like what I’m doing.” Even if he didn’t like everything about it, he wasn’t about to admit it to his family. He’d never hear the end of it. “Besides, in twelve years, I become eligible for a very generous retirement plan.”

  “Surely you don’t need the funds,” said Nàiměi, peering at him with narrowed eyes. “You haven’t taken up gambling, have you?” She detested gambling and was probably worried that he’d somehow become corrupted by Spires, where there were betting shops and lottery kiosks on every corner.

  “No, but… “ He searched for a truth she’d accept. “It’s bad business practice to leave earned income on the table.” He gave her a small smile. “You must admit that Great-Grandfather is hardly the best judge of my choice of employer. He thinks the CPS has been secretly infiltrated by aliens from the Andromeda galaxy who are intent on destroying civilization as we know it.”