Vigilantes

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  The way he felt at the moment, anything that important would have caught the attention of DeRicci’s office first.

  But he didn’t know that for certain.

  Still, he shoveled his meal into his mouth, and was nearly half done by the time Talia wandered in.

  “Wow,” she said as she picked up a fork. “You’re an eating machine.”

  “I’m a man who has been summoned back to work,” he said around a mouthful of food he hadn’t even been tasting.

  “By DeRicci?” Talia asked.

  “By my real boss,” he said.

  She blinked as she tried to put that together. Then she frowned. “I thought crime was on hold in Armstrong during the crisis.”

  “Don’t I wish,” he said, and closed the container. He shoved it into the refrigerator that used to be full of fresh food and was now full of more containers just like this one. Only older.

  “Hey, Detective,” Talia asked as she peered inside her container of food. “Is everything just getting worse?”

  He knew the question had more behind it than it seemed. He didn’t really have time to reassure her, and he almost said he didn’t know.

  Then he remembered the good mood he’d had when he arrived here.

  “Honestly,” he said, “I think we’re starting to make some progress.”

  Her gaze met his, and he could feel the intensity behind it.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, feeling the mood return. “Really.”

  He left her, hoping he would still feel that way after he talked to Gumiela, and found out what the new crisis was. He was tired of feeling behind. He was tired of being out of control.

  He wanted things to return to the way they had been—not necessarily physically, but emotionally. He wanted to be able to predict what was coming next.

  And he had a hunch that wouldn’t happen for a long, long time.

  TWENTY-TWO

  THE CONNECTION SHUT down, and with it, Salehi’s bravado disappeared. He staggered slightly, then sank into the chair behind him. Jiolitti sat across from him.

  She had monitored the entire conversation.

  “Holy shit,” she said softly.

  He couldn’t agree more. Holy shit indeed. And any other expletive. He ran a hand over his face, trying to get a grip on his emotions.

  He was the one who had made Zhu head of S3 On The Moon, he was the one who had made sure that Zhu confirmed those injunctions, he was the one who had sent Zhu into the wilds of an unprotected, angry populace representing murderers and attempted murderers, with no backup and no talk of security.

  And of course, Zhu wasn’t smart enough to think of hiring security on his own.

  Salehi squeezed his forehead. Not fair, he wasn’t being fair; Zhu had never had an unpopular case like this, or if he had, he had done so somewhere safe like the Impossibles.

  Salehi had had half a dozen cases like this over his career, always away from Athena Base, and—after the first one—with lots of protection.

  What an idiot he was. He had been thinking about the legal implications, not the social ones. He hadn’t thought about the atmosphere on the Moon because it had been so very long since he’d had a case like this.

  Hell, he hadn’t thought about it because this wasn’t yet a case. It was just a bunch of injunctions.

  Against law enforcement.

  He’d never had trouble with law enforcement before.

  But it sounded like Seng had.

  He knew nothing about her except that she had looked rather small and overdressed on that holovid. Her light brown skin, slightly upturned eyes, and tiny nose all gave her a youthful appearance, but he had no idea if she was young, or what kind of experience she had.

  Zhu had mentioned he was having trouble finding lawyers on the Moon and that he had interviewed a bunch from Earth. Given Seng’s harsh accent, she had spent quite a bit of time on Earth.

  And she clearly didn’t scare easily.

  Salehi couldn’t collapse now. He could blame himself later, when he had time. And he needed to blame himself, not Zhu, because Zhu had had no idea what he was walking into.

  Salehi had simply forgotten because it had been so long.

  And because he really hadn’t expected lawlessness from those sworn to uphold the law.

  Shishani had called him naïve more than once. And he was. He still was.

  He took a deep breath, and sat up.

  “Were you close to him, sir?” Jiolitti asked.

  It took Salehi a moment to focus. Close to Zhu? Maybe in spirit. Zhu had given up sooner than Salehi, though. Zhu had had a lot of idealism as well, and then it had been destroyed a few months ago.

  Zhu had represented a clone of PierLuigi Frémont—not one of the clones who had attacked the Moon, an older clone—and had actually gotten him released, hoping the clone could provide background on the Anniversary Day assassins. Before the clone made it a full day, the ship he’d been on, the ship transporting him out of the Alliance, had been destroyed by Alliance battleships.

  Destroyed, taking Rafik Fujita with it. Rafik Fujita, one of Salehi’s closest friends, whom he’d recommended as transport captain for that mission because he knew Fujita could be trusted.

  Fujita, murdered by the Alliance.

  Now Zhu, murdered by the Alliance.

  That couldn’t be a coincidence.

  Could it?

  “Sir?” Jiolitti asked.

  “Sorry,” he said, not remembering what she had said before, if she had said anything at all. “I need you to get a team and vet some security firms. Not any on the Moon right now, and not any with ties to the Moon. Maybe some from Earth or maybe one of the human-based firms on Mars or something. I want the best.”

  “Sir?” Jiolitti said, adding that tone people used when they wanted one word to ask a whole host of questions.

  “Clearly, we need protection when we get to the Moon, and we’re not going to get it nearby. I want a team around that building within the hour, but I doubt that’s possible. So I want them on board as fast as you can get them, and someone protecting us when we get to the Moon.”

  “Human-based?” Jiolitti said. “Because the best firms are—”

  “Think it through, Lauren,” he snapped. “The Moon is human-oriented and more than a little pissed at aliens right now. Let’s minimize trouble, shall we?”

  She leaned back slightly, clearly put off by his tone. He didn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault that Zhu was dead, that the entire team would walk into a clusterfuck tomorrow.

  “I want another team reviewing all the footage that Seng sent. In fact, get back with her, make sure she keeps sending us updates. We need everything she has, and we’ll continue to need anything she gets. We’re going in there prepared.”

  “Prepared for what, sir?” Jiolitti asked.

  “They murdered one of our own, Lauren, because we chose to represent a group of defendants that they don’t approve of. We might not approve of those Peyti clones either, but that doesn’t matter. They’re entitled to a defense.”

  He hadn’t said that before. He’d been thinking of all clones, of the injustices presented against the Peyti themselves, not about the actual offenders. He was thinking about the offenders now.

  “Sir, don’t you think that this is too dangerous? We don’t know anything about the Moon’s government or how this will be handled. We have no allies, and we’re going in blind.”

  He raised his head. He had had hopes for this woman. He wanted to make her partner one day.

  “It sounds like this whole thing frightens you,” he said so calmly that he almost didn’t recognize his own voice.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “Doesn’t it frighten you?”

  He stopped, thought, examined his own emotions. Fear wasn’t one of them. Anger, guilt, regret, and loss were all there, but not fear.

  “No,” he said, and stood. “If you want off this case, let me know. We’ll send you bac
k to Athena Base once we arrive on the Moon.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed slightly. “That’s not what I’m saying, sir.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “I’m just wondering if this will be worthwhile. I mean, we’re going in—”

  He held up a hand, silencing her. He didn’t want to hear any more. Worthwhile? Schnable thought so: The government of Peyla would pay for this entire defense for years if necessary. That was the money angle.

  Shishani thought so: she liked the thought of the money, but she also liked chasing cases that went all the way to the Multicultural Tribunal.

  Salehi had thought so: He wanted to change clone law. Or he had.

  Now he wanted revenge.

  He was going to deal with the clones, the clone law, and with the bastards who murdered Torkild Zhu.

  “You do what I tell you or you go home,” Salehi said. “It’s that simple. You don’t get to talk about your feelings. You don’t get to talk about whether or not this is worthwhile. You give this work 150 percent or more, or I will find someone who will.”

  Her mouth was open. He wondered if anyone had ever spoken to her like this.

  It took a full minute before she gathered herself.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “Security team. Reviewing the footage. I’ll have that underway immediately.”

  “I also want background on this Melcia Seng and all the attorneys that Zhu hired yesterday. I want to know if we can identify the cops who killed Zhu. And I want someone to start investigating local Armstrong law as well as laws for the United Domes. I doubt they have any teeth, but if they do, I’ll use them. Or I’ll go directly into Alliance law.”

  Jiolitti nodded, then swallowed hard. “Are we telling the Peyti about this, sir?”

  For a moment, he thought she meant the Peyti clones on the Moon. Then he realized she meant all the Peyti lawyers traveling with them.

  “Of course we are,” he said. “We’re a team. And they need to know what we’re all facing. It’s not just about barring some group’s entry to the Moon any longer. It’s about sanctioned murder.”

  And a dozen other things.

  “Okay,” she said, and headed for the door.

  “Lauren,” he said, just a little softer. “I’ll tell them. I’ll tell everyone. You get the security teams in place, and you take care of the footage, and all the other orders I gave you. We need to move fast on this.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, and left.

  He stood for a moment, feeling as if he had been punched in the stomach.

  Goddammit, Zhu, he thought. When did you get to be so very hapless? It was as if everything Zhu had touched this last year became something worse.

  And then Salehi caught himself. He wasn’t going to blame Zhu. Zhu was doing exactly what Salehi had asked.

  Zhu had been doing his job.

  Just like Fujita had been.

  Just like Salehi had demanded Jiolitti do.

  They’d lost two colleagues so far, and this fight was only beginning.

  Before it was over, Salehi suspected, they would lose a hell of a lot more.

  TWENTY-THREE

  NOELLE DERICCI STARED at the two Earth Alliance investigators she had invited into her office, and for a brief moment, she forgot why she had asked them to come.

  She was standing behind her desk, thinking about cleaning it up, trying not to think about the worry on Nyquist’s face every time he looked at her, and ignoring the sheer exhaustion that made the junk-covered couch against one wall look so very inviting.

  She cleaned the sleep out of her eyes—ironic that the stuff in her eyes would be called “sleep” when she wasn’t getting any—and made herself concentrate. Three things to discuss with them, two directly with Goudkins, one for both of them.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said, stalling for a moment. Then she blinked and the thoughts returned, as if someone had programmed them for her.

  They hadn’t been programmed, of course. Everything in this building was about as secure as a place got these days. That feeling of delay didn’t come from outside; it came from within.

  At some point, Nyquist’s warnings would come true. She would fall asleep on her feet and sleep for days if she didn’t get rest.

  Goudkins had come farther into the room than Ostaka. Goudkins didn’t look as polished as she had two weeks ago. The Peyti Crisis had left shadows under her eyes.

  DeRicci had checked up on her, had seen that Goudkins had spent weeks on the Moon after Anniversary Day and had fought to make sure her sister had actually received a funeral.

  So many people hadn’t.

  DeRicci had checked up on Ostaka too. He hadn’t been anywhere near the Moon in the days after Anniversary Day. He had been working some other cases in the solar system and, she suspected, he had been brought in to make certain that Goudkins didn’t spend all her time chasing the Tycho Crater case.

  They were here to coordinate overall efforts. There were lesser ranked Earth Alliance investigators in the other domes, and she had just received information that more would be arriving—non-human investigators. She was told to make certain they would get through the port, as if she had control over what the port did.

  She supposed she could try.

  The two investigators were staring at her. She wondered how long she’d been silent.

  “On the day of the Peyti Crisis,” she said, hoping she sounded more authoritarian than she felt, “we sent the information about the Peyti clones to the Earth Alliance, and told them to make certain none of the clones of Uzvekmt were working as lawyers elsewhere in the Alliance. I checked my link. I never heard back from anyone at the Alliance. Did either of you?”

  “No,” Ostaka said flatly. He hadn’t even had a chance to check his links or refresh his memory.

  Goudkins looked at him with surprise. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I checked a few days ago. We haven’t heard.”

  At that moment, the door opened. Popova came in, balancing cartons of food. She set them down on the only empty table, in the very center of the room.

  “I brought silverware and napkins,” she said, looking at DeRicci, as if DeRicci hadn’t been using either in the last few weeks.

  “Thanks,” DeRicci said curtly.

  Popova nodded, and left.

  DeRicci did not go for the food. It smelled strongly of onions and fried chicken. Her stomach growled. But she’d eat after the investigators left.

  “You haven’t checked recently, though,” she said to Ostaka as if Popova hadn’t interrupted them.

  “No,” he said. “But I would think if there were—”

  “Check for me, would you?” she asked. “And I want you to go back several decades, see where these lawyers ended up. It’s important or I wouldn’t ask.”

  “Do you have a lead?” Ostaka asked.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’ll tell you if your investigation pans out.”

  “We don’t really work for you,” he said unnecessarily.

  “Lawrence,” Goudkins said, as if he had crossed some kind of line. That was good to hear, because DeRicci couldn’t trust her own anger at the moment, and Ostaka usually made her angry.

  “We all work together,” DeRicci said, grateful for Goudkins’ interruption. It gave her just enough time to prevent her from saying something unfortunate. “I’m sure if the Earth Alliance found more of these clones, they’re dealing with them, and didn’t feel the need to bother us. But I’d like to know. It’ll help us in ways that aren’t immediately obvious.”

  “Will you share that information with us?” Ostaka asked.

  “Of course,” DeRicci lied. She might share it with Goudkins, but if Ostaka kept pissing her off, she doubted she’d share it with him.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll see what I can find.”

  “Thanks,” DeRicci said. “Have you two found anything?”

  “Not really,” Ostaka said. �
��Mostly just chatter. We did discover that the Frémont clones didn’t go directly to their target cities. Some of the clones went to nearby domes that weren’t blown up. We’ve sent the information to the investigators there.”

  “Keep me posted,” DeRicci said, and there was enough of a dismissal in her voice that both investigators looked down at the cartons of food, then glanced at the door. “Lawrence, go ahead and take your food. I’d like to have a personal talk with Wilma for a moment. I need to ask her something that I don’t think I can ask anyone else.”

  He frowned, as if trying to understand that. Then he shrugged, as if woman-to-woman stuff was something he wasn’t really concerned with.

  “Sure thing,” he said, and picked up the carton labeled “Ostaka.” He walked toward the door. Just before he let himself out, he said to Goudkins, “I think I’ll eat in the kitchen today.”

  “All right,” she said, without looking at him. It sounded like she really didn’t care what he did.

  He let himself out. When the door snicked shut, DeRicci sent a private encoded message to Goudkins. Are your links with Ostaka off?

  Why? Goudkins sent back.

  Because we won’t have a discussion if they’re on, DeRicci sent. She could have added that it wouldn’t take much for her to double-check, but she wanted Goudkins to trust her.

  And, deep down, she wanted to trust Goudkins.

  They’re off, Goudkins sent.

  “Good,” DeRicci said. “Sit down. Have some lunch.”

  “What’s this woman-to-woman thing?” Goudkins asked.

  DeRicci moved to one of the chairs. She picked up the carton labeled “DeRicci” and opened it. The chicken looked a little soggy, but the onion rings (which would probably make Nyquist angry) looked delicious. She took one and bit into it. The onion was thick and sweet, obviously Moon-grown, and the batter was a perfect, buttery compliment.

  The food tasted much better than she had expected, and it was all she could do not to devour it.

  “I’ve been really impressed with you,” she said, wiping her fingers on one of those napkins that Popova mentioned so pointedly. “I think you truly want to figure out what’s going on here. Your partner looks on it more as a job.”