Veklocks

by S. H. Jucha

  “Why would you do that?” Jessie asked.

  “I believe you’re responsible,” Liam shot back. “I was told to gather some bright minds and assign them the task of figuring out how to deal with alien funds.”

  Harbour and Jessie could hear Dingles chuckle, and they had the good sense to remain quiet.

  “Can you entice Dottie to sign up, Liam?” Dingles asked.

  “I can try, Captain,” Liam replied. “It depends on what Dottie wants in return. I can’t risk the legitimacy of this office to accommodate an outlandish request.”

  “Never mind, Liam,” Harbour said. “Leave Dottie to me.”

  “Harbour,” Liam said in a warning voice, “no mental manipulation.”

  “Not necessary, Liam. A lot transpired during our first delegation to Na-Tikkook,” Harbour replied. “I’m sure I can convince Dottie to do the right thing and be the first candidate on the list.”

  -33-

  Sika’s Return

  During the days in the maintenance tunnels, Sika prepared for the next stage of her plan. She had to get downside. Occasionally, she slipped out of the tunnels and sought out locations to liberate clothing. Unattended baggage was her preferred target. She threw away most of what she stole, but piece by piece she amassed a respectable disguise.

  With the maintenance worker disguise in place, the cap pulled low, and the wide belt full of devices and tools, Sika swaggered down the station’s corridors toward the El’s arm. When she reached the car’s passenger lounge, she pretended to check the atmospheric monitors, waving one of her defunct devices at the bulkhead-mounted sensors.

  Sika’s purpose at the El was to monitor the security team, who guarded the El’s loading gate. On her first visit, she’d been prepared to take the El downside and was surprised by the presence of JOS security officers. On subsequent visits, she watched for an opening. It appeared to arrive when the team dwindled to a single officer.

  The night following her discovery, Sika visited a workers’ breakroom and collected two hot cafs. She returned to her hiding place, dosed one of the cafs, and resealed the cup.

  Then Sika quickly donned her new disguise. She became an elderly downsider matron, which allowed her to hide her face beneath an outrageous hat with facial netting.

  Exiting the tunnels, Sika used lesser occupied corridors to get to the El’s terminal arm. Returning to the main corridor, she transited the ring and descended the ramp to the El’s passenger lounge. She knew the car’s descent schedule and had purposely arrived a little early.

  There were only three citizens in the lounge, and the officer stood silently at the boarding gate. He appeared to be bored.

  Sika dropped her acquired bags, picked up the two cafs, and approached the officer.

  “You look like you could use one of these, young man,” Sika said, offering the dosed caf. She spoke in a low voice, vocal cords thickened with age.

  “You sure?” the officer asked.

  “It’s not healthy to argue with an old woman,” Sika said, chuckling.

  The officer murmured his thanks, took the caf, unsealed the cup, and sipped thankfully. It was hot and sweet. It was just the way he liked it.

  Sika sat beside her bags and waited. The El arrived from the domes, and a few passengers disembarked.

  Later, when the El was ready to depart downside, the officer checked the small group of passengers with his DAD.

  Soon, the only ones in the lounge were Sika and the officer. He looked questioningly at Sika, and she said, “Oh, I’m waiting for a friend. We’ll travel downside together.”

  The officer had felt the caf go right through him, and he had an urgent need to urinate. He should wait until the techs closed the gate, which happened right before the El dropped. He glanced again at the old woman, who seemed preoccupied with searching through one of her bags. Giving into the burning urge, the officer raced for the nearby facilities.

  Sika watched the officer disappear. Then she stood, picked up her bags, and boarded the El car. A few moments later, the gate closed, the car was sealed, and it descended. During the drop, Sika reviewed her next steps.

  Exiting the car into a dome, Sika stepped into an e-trans. She spoke her destination and added a priority code. She returned to her apartment and immediately checked her security vids. Her domicile hadn’t been disturbed.

  * * * *

  Eaton tapped on the frame of Dorelyn’s open door.

  “Come,” Dorelyn announced tersely. She continued to work, while Eaton waited silently in front of her desk.

  “Yes,” Dorelyn asked, turning off her monitor.

  “We’ve been monitoring Imian Tuttle, as you requested,” Eaton said.

  “And?” Dorelyn asked.

  “It’s inconclusive,” Eaton replied. “If he’s up to something, it’s extremely circumspect.”

  Eaton had Dorelyn’s attention. “Imian is anything but circumspect,” she said. “Tell me more.”

  “First, he no longer wears his party clothes,” Eaton enumerated. “He dresses like a vendor, a businessman. Second, he no longer attends parties or visits gatherings of his friends.”

  “This could be just a young man turning serious after suffering a near-death experience,” Dorelyn argued.

  “If that was all we saw, I’d agree,” Eaton said. “Imian leaves his house at irregular times, and he takes e-trans to various locations throughout the domes. There seems to be no consistency to his efforts.”

  “Do these visits correlate with his father’s businesses?” Dorelyn asked.

  “No, they definitely don’t,” Eaton replied. “On occasions, he visits unrelated businesses, stays for a half hour or less, and exits. We haven’t entered the buildings in an effort to determine who he’s contacting.”

  “Don’t,” Dorelyn said sharply. “I don’t need Idrian thinking someone is harassing his son. Does Imian carry a comm unit?”

  “We don’t have a comm ID for him,” Eaton admitted, “and if he’s carrying one, he keeps it well hidden.”

  “Curious,” Dorelyn said, sitting back in her chair. “What’s your estimate?”

  “We’ve nothing solid, nothing that makes sense, and that in itself is disturbing. The actions are totally out of character for the boy,” Eaton replied. “I think Imian deserves continuing observation.”

  “I agree. Stay on him,” Dorelyn said, dismissing Eaton.

  * * * *

  Imian met with his eighth organization. It fascinated him that there were so many groups, which had formed to subvert the families’ control, but they’d never found an opportunity to work together or to revolt.

  In Imian’s conversations with Sasha, he learned about Earth’s history. She relayed the material that she read online, relating the salient points to him about the process of fomenting a revolution.

  “The stories are full of charismatic leaders,” Sasha remarked to Imian. “Every revolution had that someone who incited the people. Imian, you’re that someone for the domes,” she gushed.

  “Not really,” Imian replied. “It’s the groups’ organizers who are the leaders. Some of these people have been growing their numbers for nearly two decades. I discovered that one woman had taken over the cause from her father, who’d started their group. These people care about the future. They’re —”

  “What?” Sasha asked when Imian halted his end of the conversation.

  “Have Assembly candidates signed on yet?” Imian asked.

  “Not yet,” Sasha replied. “When we were waiting for your call, Harbour mentioned to Jessie that she would be meeting with Dottie Franks. Have you heard of her?”

  “No,” Imian replied. He could hear Sasha’s tsk-tsk of disapproval, and it reminded him of how much he’d missed by his lackadaisical ways.

  “Dottie is an investor. Her husband left her some money when he died, and she’s done well,” Sasha explained. “Dottie was also selected to be a Jatouche delegate.”

  “Did she explore with Harbour and
Jessie?” Imian asked.

  “No, and that’s why I think Jessie said to Harbour that Dottie owes them,” Sasha said.

  “I’m sorry, Sasha. I’m not following the point of your story,” Imian apologized.

  “It’s this, Imian. I think Harbour is going to convince Dottie to be the first candidate to sign up,” Sasha said. “Now what was your thought?”

  “That could help,” Imian mused. “I was thinking that these group leaders would make great representatives. We need a mix from the domes, stations, and even the Belle.”

  “Should I tell Harbour that we need her to succeed with Dottie?” Sasha asked.

  Imian laughed softly. “No,” he replied. “Harbour needs no incentives from us.”

  The day following Imian’s meeting with the latest group, he took an e-trans to Noel’s dome. Soon after arriving, Imian and Noel were ensconced in the administrator’s shed.

  “How’s your wife, Noel?” Imian asked.

  “She’s fine. Thanks for asking,” Noel replied.

  “Quite the woman, your wife,” Imian added.

  Noel nodded his appreciation of the sentiment. There was something different about Imian, and it took him a moment to realize what he’d noticed. It was confidence, an assuredness that the boy had developed. Suddenly, Imian’s comments about Noel’s wife implied something entirely different.

  “Is there a reason for your generous statement about my wife?” Noel asked.

  “She led the questioning the first time I met with your group, didn’t she?” Imian asked.

  “Why would you think that?” Noel asked with concern. He was trying to ascertain how Imian might have discovered how Caitie and he were connected.

  “I’ve heard that your group is headed by a husband-wife team,” Imian explained. “It seemed probable that it was the two of you.”

  “I’m just a contact,” Noel said, spreading his hands in regret.

  “That’s too bad,” Imian said. “I was hoping you could take a critical message to your wife for me, but if she’s not the leader, then I shouldn’t burden you with the job.”

  Noel eyed the boy, who had so quickly matured. Imian had proved his worth to the hidden organizations. Apparently, he wasn’t content to be the messenger boy anymore.

  “Perhaps, we can reach some form of accommodation, Imian,” Noel suggested.

  “I don’t see how,” Imian replied. “My message is personal for your leader, although I would feel comfortable entrusting it to her husband. Should I return tonight?”

  “Getting clever about your role, aren’t you?” Noel asked and laughed.

  Imian smiled, acknowledging the game he’d been playing.

  “Our leader is Caitie, and she’s my wife,” Noel admitted.

  “I know,” Imian said quietly. “If you visit enough underground rebels, you can piece together tidbits of information from them.”

  The term underground was lost on Noel, but he accepted the idea that the other groups had learned some data points about them, just as they’d learned things about the others. No organization was airtight.

  “What can I tell Caitie for you?” Noel asked, smiling. When Imian didn’t reply, his smile faded. “You want to see her,” he guessed.

  “Yes, it’s that important,” Imian replied.

  “She told me not to bring you to another meeting, and she’s our leader,” Noel objected.

  “I don’t want to see your group. I just want to talk to her. Arrange it, Noel,” Imian urged.

  “Can you at least tell me what it’s about?” Noel pleaded.

  “Sorry, Noel,” Imian replied. He regretted putting his friend in this situation. “Here’s what I can tell you. I don’t know if my idea has merit or whether it’s a ridiculous fantasy. I need to discuss it with a leader and hear her thoughts. Furthermore, your group programs the e-trans messages. If Caitie accepts my idea, you need to spread the word to the other groups, and I need to be prepared to sell the concept to the families.”

  Noel was rocked. The scope of what Imian was indicating, even without giving details, jeopardized the secrecy of every group he’d contacted.

  “I’ll talk to Caitie,” Noel said. “I warn you she’s not going to like it, but I’ll try to convince her to see you. Come back tonight. Twenty-one hours. E-trans at your door.”

  “No group to contact tonight?” Imian inquired with a smile, which wasn’t returned.

  “No contact,” Noel affirmed and swiftly left the shed.

  Imian caught an e-trans home, and Noel sought out his partner.

  “You didn’t tell Imian that we’d meet, did you?” Caitie asked when Noel finished relaying Imian’s request.

  “I told him to return tonight, but I didn’t say who he’d meet,” Noel allowed.

  “Good. You meet him and send him home,” Caitie said in a huff. “I can’t believe you affirmed to him that I was the group’s leader, that you told him my name, and that I was your wife.”

  Noel listened to Caitie rail on for a few more minutes about his lapse in judgment before he said firmly, “Stop. That’s enough. You’re making a big mistake not talking to Imian.”

  “That’s your opinion,” Caitie retorted.

  “Perhaps, and perhaps, it’s the group’s opinion. Shall we find out?” Noel asked. His words were threatening, but his tone wasn’t. Caitie might be the group’s leader, but she was still his beloved, though hardheaded, wife.

  Caitie was aghast at what Noel was proposing. “You’d do that to me?” she asked.

  “I think it’s that important, Caitie,” Noel said gently. “You’ve built a great organization. You’ve nurtured it and protected it. Secrecy has always been your watchword. I know this meeting with Imian is risky, but maybe it’s time to take some chances.”

  At a little after twenty-one hours, Noel was waiting when Imian’s e-trans rolled to a stop on the ped-path. He didn’t greet Imian. Instead, he turned and walked toward a small shop, and Imian followed.

  Noel went around the side of the building and entered from the rear. When Imian stepped through the doorway, Noel closed the door behind him and triggered the lights.

  “You wanted to see me?” Caitie asked.

  To Imian, it was obvious that Caitie wasn’t happy to see him, and he suspected that she felt the same way about her husband, at this moment. It seemed a good idea to be brief.

  “What do you think about running for the Assembly?” Imian asked.

  Noel’s mouth dropped open. He covered it when it morphed into a smile.

  On the other hand, Caitie stared at Imian, as if he’d lost his mind.

  “That’s your big idea? That’s what you wanted to see me about?” Caitie nearly shouted.

  “Indulge me,” Imian replied. “Do you want to see the domes represented in the new government?”

  “It depends,” Caitie allowed cautiously.

  “On what?” Imian asked.

  “On who’s representing us,” Caitie replied.

  “Dorelyn is running for president. Who do you think she wants in the Assembly?” Imian asked.

  “He’s got a point,” Noel volunteered. “She’ll want downsiders. That’ll mean family members or associates.”

  “No, it won’t,” Imian said, slashing a hand in negation. “That will be too obvious to topsiders. However, the council will choose individuals they can trust to act as they’re told.”

  “A governor by any other name,” Noel said thoughtfully.

  “That’s right. The council would hold the presidency and the Assembly. They would rule Pyre,” Imian said.

  “If Dorelyn or the council is going to select the candidates, why suggest that I sign up?” Caitie asked. She’d begun to think that Imian had outgrown his usefulness.

  “Because when you and the other group leaders add your names as candidates, I’m going to suggest to my father that your kind has a better opportunity of winning than the hired help,” Imian replied.

  “How are you going to accom
plish that?” Noel asked.

  Imian took a breath, and then he laid out the argument that he’d been working on since he talked to Sasha. “First of all, you’re downsiders. Why wouldn’t you follow orders too? Second, who is going to sound more acceptable to voters … individuals repeating lines from memorized scripts or those speaking from the heart? Remember, these are elections. They have to be won.”

  “I can’t argue with what you’re saying,” Caitie said, “but why speak to your father?” She was beginning to doubt her earlier assessment of Imian.

  “He’ll listen to his son, who he’s seen recently change for the better,” Imian replied, “and he’ll want to prove to the family heads that his son is worthy of joining their ranks.”

  Noel and Caitie exchanged expressions of incredulity.

  “Your father will be crushed when he finds out that you betrayed him,” Noel pointed out.

  Imian hung his head. When he straightened, he said, “It can’t be helped. This is not about him and me. It’s about breaking the families’ power.”

  “It won’t work,” Caitie said suddenly.

  “Why not?” Imian asked.

  “The moment we vote for a law that the families don’t like, whether Dorelyn or someone else is president, we’ll be outed,” Caitie argued. “Even if we’re aboard the JOS, our families would be vulnerable to retribution.”

  “Good point,” Imian allowed. “I don’t have the answer to that one.”

  “Perhaps, you should talk to the envoy and her advisor again,” Noel suggested gently.

  Imian was about to compliment Noel on his suggestion when he paused and his mouth clicked shut. He stared at Noel in disbelief.

  “I’m sorry, Imian,” Noel said. “We had to be sure of who you were and what you were telling us.”

  “All my conversations?” Imian asked, blushing.

  “It was just the two of us,” Caitie said in an offhand manner, which was a mistake.

  Imian regarded Caitie. Inside, he was fuming, but he remembered his father’s words, which were, “Never expose your emotions during negotiations.”