by Vicky Savage
Before Cathcart can object, Ted says, “Strike that. As a final matter, Director, please tell us, what is Miss Beckett’s current destiny path? What is the current probability that she will put events in motion which will lead to the demise of IUGA?”
Canto bristles. “That is confidential.”
Cathcart rises from his chair. “Objection, Madame Justice. IUGA is strictly prohibited under its charter from divulging such information about the future, especially in the presence of the subject.” He tilts his head toward me.
“Madame Justice,” Ted says. “This question bears directly upon whether or not the temporary restraining order should be made permanent. I’m trying to establish just how much of a threat IUGA and Director Canto perceive Miss Beckett to be.”
Justice Goodspeed toys with her pearl earring. “Director Canto, I believe the cause of justice would require a small exception in this case. Without going into other specifics regarding Miss Beckett’s destiny path, please tell the court the current probability percentage of Miss Beckett’s taking over the helm of the Transcenders and instigating the collapse of IUGA.”
He clears his throat. “As of today, I believe it is just above ninety percent.”
A chorus of gasps and startled cries ripples through the spectators.
“Thank you, Director,” Ted says. “I have nothing further.” He scoops up his note pad and returns to counsel table.
Goodspeed looks to her colleagues on the bench. “Questions?” she asks.
Justice Akbar raises her stylus. “Director Canto,” she says in her soft voice, “besides the battle in Domerica, has IUGA employed automatons in the past to assist in combat situations?”
He crosses his legs resting his hands on his knee. “Madame Justice, in the past we have dispatched automatons to assist in similar coup situations, and as I noted in my previous testimony, we have had a presence during the crucial battles of all major wars.”
“But my question is, did these automatons engage in actual combat in the past?”
“Only if threatened, Madame Justice.”
“Tell me, Director, if you place these agents in the midst of a battle how can they not be threatened?”
“The vast majority of the time our agents are employed in an advisory capacity only and never see any combat.”
“But that was not the case in Domerica.” Justice Akbar wags her stylus at Canto. “The testimony is that one in every ten soldiers was an IUGA agent. I didn’t hear you dispute it. That seems an excessive number of advisors. It sounds to me as if you supplied these people with an automaton army designed to kill humans. That is a clear violation of confederation articles.”
Canto leans toward the bench resting his arms on the witness box. “Madame Justice, respectfully, that simply is not so. Our agents were present to advise and guide the Dome Noir soldiers. There is no direct evidence that any of our agents killed a single human being.”
“Hmm.” Akbar’s face is tense. “Did IUGA remove its automatons from the battlefield prior to the locals going in?”
“We certainly did. Once we saw the likely outcome of the battle, we removed all of our agents—whether damaged or intact. We could not risk having this relatively unsophisticated population discover a disabled robot. That would have been disastrous.”
“Then that would explain the lack of any direct evidence, wouldn’t it.” She lowers her head and makes a note on her pad.
Before Canto can respond, Justice Cheung chimes in. “Uh, Mr. Director, on a different subject, your prediction models show a rather high likelihood that your agency will not be in existence much longer if you do not take decisive action. Exactly what do you intend to do to save IUGA?”
Canto’s posture stiffens. “Mr. Justice Cheung, we plan to conduct our business in the most professional and ethical manner possible, living up to the letter of our public charter. Internal investigations are currently underway to determine whether mistakes were made by us or our agents in Domerica. If they were, we will rectify them immediately. I believe as long as we consistently act in the highest and best interest of the public, IUGA will be around for another eight hundred years.”
Justice Cheung nods. Goodspeed looks to the rest of her colleagues, and finding no further questions, cracks her gavel. “We’ll take a one hour recess for lunch. Gentlemen, be prepared with your summations at two o’clock.”
* * *
After the lunch break we traipse back into the courtroom. The media corps and the spectators’ sections seem to have thinned out now that the main attraction is over. Once the justices have seated themselves at the bench, Justice Goodspeed calls on Ted for his closing argument.
He rises and walks to the podium. “Honorable Justices,” he says, “in the beginning, IUGA’s purpose may have been a noble one—to preserve order and prevent chaos—but over time, the agency has been transformed into a machine used to control events, not for the public good, but for the enrichment of a handful of men. This corruption of purpose is perhaps nowhere better illustrated than by IUGA’s conduct regarding Miss Beckett, a young woman perceived as a future threat to its current operating environment.”
The remainder of Ted’s ten minute speech is eloquent and persuasive. He drives home the most important point: IUGA abused its power and violated its charter when it sent an excessive number of agents to assist in the Noirs’ assassination plot in an attempt to save its own skin. When he returns to counsel table, Narowyn beams at him and pats his arm.
“Mr. Cathcart, we’ll hear from you now.” Goodspeed says.
He rises gracefully, smoothes a hand down his robes, and walks to the podium.
“May it please the court,” he says. “What have Miss Beckett and the Transcender Society really proven here? They have shown only that IUGA, in furtherance of its sworn public duty, assisted in the fulfillment of a destiny which was already a near certainty—a ninety-six percent probability. On the other hand, Miss Beckett has admitted that she was in league with a rogue IUGA agent, and that she and the Transcenders did everything in their power to prevent that destiny from occurring. If certain unfortunate events took place as a result of Miss Beckett’s unwarranted meddling in the natural unfolding of fate, IUGA cannot be held responsible. Miss Beckett brought it upon herself.”
Cathcart blusters on for the remainder of his ten minutes, but his words sound hollow to me when compared with the weight of the evidence. I hope the justices feel the same way.
After court is adjourned, Narowyn and I gather our things and thank Ted and Corinne once again. I glance up at the spectator gallery, but see no sign of the Becketts or Ryder. It’s not that I want to speak with him, that would seem awkward right now, but after two days of testimony re-living the events that took place in Domerica, it might be a comfort of sorts to glimpse his beautiful face and know that a spark of my Ryder lives on in some way.
FIFTY-ONE
Teetering on the brink of mental exhaustion, I sleep for most of the day following the hearing. I receive a kind message from Eleanor Beckett, praising my testimony at the hearing and expressing her good wishes for a speedy and favorable decision from the court. I return a short note thanking her again for her support and for attending the hearing.
My schedule quickly returns to normal. Although I’ve never been much of a winter girl, Arumel City is kind of a snowy wonderland in January. Callie loves the cold fluffy stuff, so we go for long walks when I need a break.
When I have extra time, Luci and I continue to work on my secret little skill. I’ve improved to the point where I can make my stylus float across the room and into my waiting hand. Luci thinks that’s huge, but I think I still have a long way to go.
In February, when I’m beginning to tire of the icy chill, Nila and Asher persuade me to join them for a little ski outing to Switzerland. It turns out to be even colder but infinitely more fun than I imagined it would be. We eat fried Snickers bars in the 3 Tells Pub and do some scary-awesome cliff jumping in Interlaken.<
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Asher and I put two more explorations behind us, one to an Outlier Earth with three continents, only one of which is habitable, and another to an Archetypal Earth on the verge of discovering a new form of magnetic energy. I’m amazed and delighted by the new and exotic landscapes we visit, and I feel more skilled and confident with each successful exploration.
The glasses Luci made for me give me a greater sense of security when I’m away from Arumel, and I haven’t had any brushes with IUGA agents since Twin Moons. Narowyn promises that soon I’ll have the opportunity to head up an exploration team of my own. It sounds thrilling and daunting at the same time.
Despite all the frigid excitement of winter, I breathe a sigh of relief as the first whispers of spring descend on Arumel. There’s still no word on our case from the IGC court, but it doesn’t cross my mind very often. I’m happy living at the Chateau. The sunshine and warm weather feel like new beginnings and fresh starts to me.
One gorgeous Sunday I ask Eve to join me on a little shopping excursion to the Urban Bazaar in town.
“What are we looking for?” she asks as we wander among the artists’ booths.
“I don’t know, maybe some fun prints for the kitchen—just something bright and springy.” I stop at a booth to thumb through a stack of matted photographs.
“Hey, Jade, look,” Eve says. “Isn’t that Hunky Dunky over there?”
“Who?”
“That Ryder guy.”
I duck my head and pivot behind a rack of frames. “Where?” I whisper.
“Over there talking to that bleach-blonde set of boobs.”
I peer around the side. In the next aisle of booths, Ryder stands with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans talking to … “Oh my god, I know that girl—or her mirror at least,” I say.
“Who is she?” Eve asks.
“Back home, she’s my best friend, Liv Wallace. I don’t know who she is here.”
“Well whoever she is, she’s about to steal your man. I told you, you should have made a move on him a long time ago.”
“Shush. Can you hear what they’re saying?”
“No, but she’s totally macking on him. Look at her. She’s practically shoving her cleavage in his face.”
Just then, Liv places a long-fingered hand on Ryder’s shoulder, and standing on tiptoes, she kisses him on the mouth before turning and walking away. My heart and stomach powerfully collide. Ryder stands and watches her for a moment, then he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth and turns in the opposite direction.
“Ha,” Eve says. “Doesn’t look like he’s that into her. He just wiped off her lip gloss.”
“C’mon. Let’s go.” I clutch the lapel of her jacket and pull her along. “I don’t want him to see us.”
“But I thought we were going to shop.”
After watching Ryder and Liv together I feel kind of queasy and irritable. Something that tastes remarkably like jealousy coats my tongue and makes my mouth go dry. Liv’s mirror back in Unicoi had a thing for my Ryder, and I didn’t like it then either. “I need something to drink,” I say.
“Okay. I know a great place for chocolate chai lattes.” Eve takes the lead, and I follow her in kind of a dazed funk.
* * *
As the week begins, I try to keep myself focused on class work and my sessions with Luci, but thoughts of the scene between Ryder and Liv at the Urban Bazaar keep intruding. I can’t seem to get it off my mind. I look up Olivia Wallace online and discover that she’s had some success as a local actress. If she’s anything like the Liv back home, it’s the perfect career for her. Her online publicity shots are gorgeous—sexy and self-assured. Nothing in her bio mentions a current love interest, though.
One sun-drenched morning, I decide to call Eleanor Beckett and invite her out for lunch. I tell myself it’s because I haven’t seen her since the hearing, and I never thanked her in person for filing the amicus brief in my case. But in my heart I know that I’m also motivated by my desire to learn more about Ryder. I promise myself I won’t be the one to bring him up, but maybe I can find out whether he and Liv are an item.
At Eleanor’s suggestion, we meet at a small café near her office. The hostess seats us at a pretty little window table with white linens and a vase of pink baby roses.
“Thanks for having lunch with me on short notice,” I say. “I wanted to express my gratitude in person for the brief you filed. My lawyers say it was very persuasive and should bolster our case considerably.”
“I’m so glad you called. I’ve been meaning to invite you to lunch,” she says. “Let’s hope we don’t grow old waiting for the court’s decision.” Her smile is so like my mother’s it makes my heart ache.
Throughout lunch, Eleanor is vivacious and inquisitive. She’s eager to hear about my latest explorations, and she shares some sweet stories about her grandson. She’s particularly animated when filling me in on her plans for a new garden this spring.
“You really must come and see it once it’s all planted,” she says. “John would love to meet you, if you feel up to it. We’ll have dinner alfresco.”
“That sounds lovely.”
When the check is delivered to our table, I’m disappointed that Eleanor still hasn’t mentioned Ryder. I reach into my purse for my cash card, but she intercedes.
“No. This is my treat, Jaden.” She hands her card to our server. “I hope in some small way it makes up for the dreadful experience you had at my home when Ryder stopped by unexpectedly.”
Finally. I’m relieved she opened up the subject. “I got over that a long time ago,” I say. “He came to the Chateau a few days afterward to apologize for his abrupt departure.”
“Yes, he told me. He felt awful about his rude behavior.”
“How is he, by the way?” I ask, careful not to appear overly interested.
“Doing well. The boy works too hard, I’m afraid, but he seems happy. He’s moved on with his life, you know, since my daughter’s death, and I’m glad. He’s so young and has so much living still to do.”
I toy with my dessert fork, averting my eyes. “Is he seeing anyone special?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. He dated an attractive, young actress a few times—Olivia something or other—but they weren’t really suited for each other, and he’s not the type to go out with someone just for their looks.”
I raise my eyes and smile. “He doesn’t seem like that type.”
She gazes at me for a moment, and I’m pretty sure she can read me like a book—my mom always could. “So … what about you?” she asks. “Anyone special in your life?”
“No.” I shake my head vigorously. “I haven’t dated anyone since my husband’s death.”
“Maybe it’s time to think about getting back out there.” Her eyes sparkle fondly. “I’ll tell Ryder you asked about him.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean…” I begin to protest, but stop myself. “All right. Thank you so much for lunch, Eleanor. It was great to see you again.”
She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I hope to see much more of you in the future. I’ll call you for dinner.”
“That’d be great.”
Walking home, I feel more peaceful knowing that Ryder and Liv aren’t together, but I still don’t know how to interpret my feelings for him.
* * *
The following day, Narowyn announces that we received a grant from the International Institute of Science to study Earth J999, a primitive OE discovered only last year. It sounds a bit like Planet of the Apes. The human population is tiny, but the simian population is enormous. The goal is to attempt to understand why.
Ash is the mission leader, and I’m second in command. We’ll be accompanied by a small team including Luci, our resident scientist, and Joe, our animal expert. Asher warns me to be prepared. “If you think Twin Moons was roughing it, this will be ten times worse, and remember to pack bear spray. Some of those gorillas can get pretty territorial.”
The day before we’re scheduled to depart, I stop at a sporting goods store to pick up a supply of jungle-strength insect repellant, mosquito netting, and some final odds and ends. As I leave the store, I see a sign for Handsome Harry’s Hat Shoppe. On a whim, I decide to pop in and buy Ralston a special thank you gift for taking care of Callie once again while I’m on exploration.
A light colored panama sits atop a mannequin head in the window, a jaunty little feather tucked into its shiny silk band. It’s perfect. A bell chimes as I enter the shop, and a slim young man smiles at me from behind the counter. He wears a black fedora, a lavender shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and a vintage-looking vest.
“Welcome,” he says, stepping around the counter. His soft hazel eyes connect with mine, and a look of recognition flashes across his face. Removing his hat, he places it over his heart and bows slightly. “Ah, the famous Miss Beckett. It’s an honor to have you in my shop.”
