by Rachel Ford
And then, on the fourth morning, Presider Grik began the session with, “As a point of personal privilege, I am going to shift the agenda. Our first point, polling places, will be addressed later. I’m going to reintroduce a bit of business brought – well, quite a few months ago, now – by Minister Idan.”
Nik glanced up at the same time Brek did, whispering, “What?”
“The business is regarding the pardon of Contributor Aldir.” He smiled. “I believe you’ve waited long enough to have this one heard, Nik.”
A few murmurs of affirmation sounded, and she managed a surprised, “Um, thank you, Presider.”
Brek felt – and he couldn’t say why, exactly – unease at this. The business had been tabled when the war broke out, as had all non-essential matters. They were still planning the transition back to peacetime, the elections, the resumption of civilian trade and transport. And no one had mentioned a word of this to Nik. So why now? And why not give her a head’s up?
Grik turned to the sergeant-at-arms. “If you’d be so good as to bring Contributor Aldir in.”
“Div’s here?” Nik whispered, turning anxious eyes to him. “Why?”
He shook his head. “No idea.”
A minute later, Diven Aldir marched into the room, led by a pair of protectors. He was not cuffed, and he seemed to have been given a shave and a change of outfit. He entered in a trim, expensive suit, looking more like a visiting dignitary than a prisoner.
“Minister Idan,” Grik said, “you have filed a request, pursuant with the authority granted to you by the provisional court, to strike the convictions for accessory to murder and collusion with the former Supreme Leader Velk from Contributor Aldir’s record. Is that correct?”
Nik got to her feet, her voice sounding small in the great chamber as she answered, “I have.”
Diven smiled at her, and Brek studied the young man. He might have been a twin, he thought, but for his eyes. There was something in Diven Aldir’s eyes very unlike Nik’s. Something cold, something calculating.
“Will you state your reasons for the Body?”
“I…umm…I believe my brother acted under duress.” She was flustered to be put on the spot, much less for such a personal reason. But she collected herself quickly. “In accordance with Tribari law, and in keeping with the charter of rights, actions compelled under duress cannot be held against the, um, accused party. Therefore I would strike the conviction, as it was based on actions taken under duress.”
Div smiled again, and Presider Grik nodded. “I see. Thank you, Minister. Well, seeing as how the body granted you the authority to make this decision, unless there is further discussion, I would entertain a motion to grant the request.”
Now, Davis Telari got to his feet. “Pardon me, Presider, but I object.”
“On what grounds?”
“I believe the court granted those powers without knowing the full weight of Contributor Aldir’s crimes. If it please the Presider, I would like to introduce evidence to support my claim at this time.”
Giya Enden was on his feet now. “Presider, I question the timing of this. Where has this evidence been? Has Minister Idan been informed about any of this? Has anyone else?”
“Hear, hear,” Raylor nodded.
“Second,” Brek called. He didn’t know what this evidence was, of course, but he was beginning to understand what was happening now. This was revenge – revenge against Nik, for the Trapper’s Colony vote. And Grik was clearly a part of it. “Presider, if there is further evidence against Contributor Aldir, it belongs in the hands of the courts. Not this body.”
“Respectfully, Minister,” Telari offered, his tone a calm contrast to Brek’s heated one, “there is a petition on the floor, not in the courts. Pertinent information must, therefore, be delivered to this body.”
“I concur with Minister Telari,” Gretchen Mira declared.
“As do I,” Minister Ven added. “We cannot make a decision without the facts. We have been asked to make a decision. Ergo we must have the facts.”
“It is the opinion of the Presider that Minister Telari is in the right. Proceed, Minister.”
Nik glanced between him and Diven, her eyes gray with fear and confusion. Diven seemed less confused, and more afraid, as if he knew – or guessed – what might be said next.
Telari, meanwhile, bowed in Nik’s direction. “Forgive me, Minister Idan. But you’ve as much right as anyone to see this. More, perhaps.” He lifted a tablet, now, and punched in a few commands. In a moment, a video projected onto the central dais.
Brek felt Nik shiver violently at his side. The scene was the interior of some manner of police vehicle, and there were two forms inside. One, was Diven, in the gaudy clothes of a pre-revolution Contributor. The other was a man in a protector’s uniform, with a name patch that read, “Ridi.” He didn’t recognize the man, but he knew the name. He knew it from his first time on Central, when he’d been caught in the riots; Ridi had been in riot gear then, his face obscured. But he’d been the arresting officer, who had applied the submission prod so liberally Brek had lost consciousness.
He recognized the name from Nik, too. She’d never told him the full story – of that, he was sure – but she’d told him enough. Ridi had been one of the officers who arrested and tortured Grel Idan, and was in turn killed by Grel. Nik said Ridi had roughed her up, too; she said she’d been spared worse when another protector intervened. She’d never elaborated, and he never pressed. She’d tell him if and when she could.
But he’d had his suspicions.
And the way she trembled now at the sight of that apparition confirmed the worst of them. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around her.
Diven Aldir – the real Diven Aldir – went very pale, saying, “What is this? This is ridiculous. I’ve already been tried.”
The Diven Aldir on the screen, though, was smiling. “I hear my father has been making life difficult for you. I am sorry about that.”
“Are you?” Ridi wondered. “Seems like a family trait: your father, that sister of yours…”
“Ah, Nik.” Diven shook his head. “That’s actually why I’m here.”
Ridi turned eyes gleaming with suspicion at him. “Look, Contributor, whatever she said, it’s a lie.”
“That’s not why I’m here, Protector. Although…” He squinted at the other man. “I am curious what you think I was going to say.”
Ridi shrugged. “Let’s leave it. It wouldn’t be true, anyway.”
Diven nodded slowly. “I see. Well, then, let’s leave it, as you say.”
“So, why are you here, then, Contributor?”
“To solve a mutual problem.”
“Oh?”
“Grel Idan.”
Ridi studied him for a long moment, then grinned. “I’m listening.”
“I’m an Aldir, Protector. My family name means something. It was bad enough to know my sister had left the family for the likes of Idan.”
“But you’re not keen on having Idan in your family, now.”
“Precisely. And you’re not keen on him causing riots in the City. Or the trouble his whining has caused.”
“Not very, no.”
“Well, suppose you had another chance to…let’s say, question, my brother-in-law. Would you take it?”
Ridi surveyed the younger man with narrowed eyes. “We’d need a warrant. We can’t just enter a Grand Contributor’s home.”
“No,” Diven agreed. “You can’t. But if someone let you onto the estate, and brought him to you…”
At Brek’s side, Nik gasped. “Oh my gods.” On the floor, Diven was still protesting, the sergeant-at-arms trying to compel silence.
The video feed played on, drowning them all out. “What are you asking me to do, Contributor? You’re not asking me to break the law, are you?”
Diven’s smile, captured for perpetuity, played out, slow and snakelike. “Not at all, Protector. Of course not. But I feel as if you did not get a c
hance, that first time, to really get to the bottom of things.”
“And how does that solve your problem?”
Diven’s eyes hardened to a flinty gray. “My parents are blind to Nik. They’ll let her do anything, drag our family to any ruin with that revolutionary.”
“So we…question…Idan?”
“Exactly. The man’s a terrorist. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something that will stick. Something that will get him out of the Aldirs’ lives for good. And…” He spread his hands. “My brother-in-law has something of a violent temper. I would not expect you to risk injury to yourself, if things got – messy.”
“If he resisted, you mean?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re a real patriot, Contributor.”
“Anything, for the Empire.”
“And what would you want in return?”
“Nothing. I just want to see justice done. But, of course, for the sake of family unity, my part in this…”
Ridi nodded. “Never comes to light.”
“Then I think we have an accord.”
“I think we do, Protector.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Nik sat, stunned and unthinking, when Telari paused the video. “So you see, Presider, I do not believe we can accept Minister Idan’s judgement. Whatever the circumstances of the Aldir’s death, we have incontrovertible evidence that Diven Aldir was not only a party to, but an orchestrator of, the murder of Grel Idan.”
A hush settled on the body. After a long pause, Giya said, “I would ask the minister how he came to find this footage? And why it is only now being shared with the principle players?”
“It was discovered quite by accident, during a cataloguing of the Central precinct’s protector logs. And I would, naturally, have brought it to Minister Idan’s attention sooner. But, I only myself learned about it last night.”
“And here we are, talking about it this morning? That’s some curious timing,” Raylor snorted.
“I did not bring the motion to the floor,” Telari reminded her with a thin smile.
“That’s quite correct. And I am as stunned as anyone at this news,” Presider Grik declared.
A few snorts of derision sounded throughout. Nik was too numb to attend. She was aware of Brek’s arm around her, supporting her, anchoring her as it was. She was glad of that. She managed to recall her voice. “Div…it was you?”
Her brother turned steely eyes to her. “You left me no choice, Nik. You would have ruined us all.”
“Minister Idan, you have my deepest sympathies,” Gretchen Mira declared. “I cannot imagine how difficult it must be, to learn that Grel Idan, Father of the Revolution, is dead because of your own family.”
A general hubbub sounded at this, with ministers jeering Mira. Or maybe they were jeering her. She couldn’t tell. Her head was swimming, as the range of emotions she’d felt these last long months swarmed back: pain, betrayal, fear, disbelief, grief. It was all there at once, fresh and raw and powerful.
“Nik,” Brek whispered, “are you alright? Nik?”
His voice cut through her thoughts, and she stood, now. “Presider,” she said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “Presider, I withdraw my petition for clemency. And I yield my right to pass judgement to the court.”
A fresh round of shouts broke out, and this time there was less confusion in her thoughts. The anger was not directed at her, but at Telari and Mira, at Presider Grik, and this spectacle. She’d been set up, she knew. It was not a moment of justice, but of revenge. It was meant to break her, to humble her.
And it worked. They’d won. They’d broken her heart, in a way she didn’t know it could be broken. She’d endured so much already, she hadn’t believed there was any more innocence left to take.
Telari had found it, though, and ripped it away in this spectacle, for all the world to see.
Diven, meanwhile, was shouting at her. “You promised me you’d set me free. You promised.”
“You murdered Grel.”
“What choice did you leave me, Nik? You promised. You lying bitch, you promised.”
Presider Grik tapped his gavel. “Order. Minister Idan has withdrawn her petition for clemency. We will, then, remand Contributor Aldir to the court for trial in the murder of Grel Idan, and sentencing.”
She made the mistake of glancing at Gretchen Mira, now, and saw the other woman’s satisfied smile. Telari was a bit more guarded in his expressions, but there was a glint of triumph in his eyes as well.
Nik felt sick, sick to her stomach; sick to the core of her soul. “Brek,” she whispered, “I need to go.”
“Of course.” He stood, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, guiding her down the row.
She almost missed the flash of movement in the center of the chamber, as her brother leapt for the sergeant-at-arms. Brek did not, though. And by time Nik realized that Diven had drawn the protector’s gun, Brek had already pivoted, putting his body between her and her brother’s line of fire.
“There’ll be no Aldirs left before I see you ruin the name,” Diven called as shots rang out.
Screams sounded all around: cries to take cover, commands to disarm the madman, and yelps of panic.
Nik heard it all. She felt a spasm pass through Brek’s body as he clutched her close, and then another. She heard more shots fire, and Diven cry out. She felt Brek lose his footing, and felt them both tumble to the ground.
She rolled to a sitting position, turning for him. “Brek,” she breathed, praying that jolt had been something other than Diven’s shot hitting its mark.
But Brek didn’t answer. His eyes were closed, his body limp.
The minutes passed in a blur after that. Nik barely registered her brother’s body – dead body – being carted away. She had only eyes for Brek. He’d been shot twice. The first hit landed square in the back, and the second in the shoulder.
The sergeant-at-arm’s weapon had been set to stun, and, fortunately, Diven had not noticed. Still, two blasts of weapons fire was no laughing matter, and even after she realized that Brek lived, she was practically delirious with fear.
The ambulance made good time, and Nik rode with him to the clinic. Dr. Kel took charge of Brek when he arrived, but she would not leave his side. He didn’t push the issue, saying only, “Alright, but you can’t interfere with my work, Nik.”
She didn’t. She was quiet and unobtrusive, but she would not leave him. Perhaps it was the memories brought up unbidden by Div’s betrayal, of that morning when she’d woke to find Grel gone forever. Maybe it was the only measure of control she had left as she saw her world begin to spin out again. But she couldn’t leave him, not even in Dr. Kel’s capable hands.
She loved him. She loved Brek Trigan, and she couldn’t lose him.
He came to before long, letting loose a long, low groan.
“Minister Trigan?” Dr. Kel asked.
Brek opened his eyes slowly. “Nik?”
“I’m here,” she said, stepping forward to take his hand. “I’m here, darling.”
He looked her up and down, wincing with the movement. “You’re alright?”
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Thanks to you.”
“Oh Nik, don’t cry, my angel.”
“Look,” Dr. Kel said, “I need to check your vitals. But it’ll take two seconds. Then I’ll give you two space.”
Nik nodded, blinking back the tears and standing out of the way. Kel moved quickly, checking heart rate and – well, she wasn’t sure what else. He was satisfied at the end of it, though, and said, “You’ll be alright, Minister. A little stiff, a little singed, but alright.”
Then, with a smile at Nik, he added, “I’ll leave you, then. There’s a call button if you need anything.”
She waited until the door closed, and then threw her arms across his prone form and sobbed. Brek grunted at the contact, but wrapped an arm around her. “Hey,” he soothed, “what’s that for? I lived. You lived.”
/>
Now, Nik drew back enough to glare at him through still weeping eyes. “Dammit, Brek, you could have been killed. What the hell were you thinking?”
He smiled softly at her, lifting a hand to brush away the tears. “Don’t you know by now, Nik? I love you.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
She cried for a long time after that, and he held her until the tears stopped. His chest felt like the tunnels of Theta had fallen in on him all over again, and the added pressure of her head on it wasn’t helping. But he didn’t care. She needed him in the moment. And the truth was, he needed her too.
He’d been so afraid of losing her for so long. And then, as soon as he’d relaxed, as soon as the world had seemed to align for him, when she was in his arms, his lover, his best friend…he’d almost lost her again.
No, Brek Trigan didn’t want to let her go, even if it hurt like hell in the moment.
Eventually, though, she dried her eyes, and sat back. He held onto her hand and smiled at her. “Brek?”
“Yes, my Nik?”
“I love you too.”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. It was the first time she’d said those words to him, and hearing them directly – not guessing at them through a caring touch, or a tender gaze, but hearing them out loud – rather undid his calm. He didn’t trust his own voice in the moment. So a kiss would have to suffice to convey some measure of how he felt.
“Brek, I…I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t, Nik.”
“I almost did.”
“Hey,” he said, squeezing her hand, “almost doesn’t mean anything. I almost died in the caves on Theta. I almost died in the riots. But here I am.” He smiled. “And I’ll always be here for you.”
“Always?”
“Always, my darling.”
Captain Elgin sighed. It was time for his ten o’clock, with Mercer. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, Mercer was stopping by. It didn’t bother him. The truth was, though he would never have admitted it aloud, he was almost looking forward to checking in with the captain of the Seven. The problem was, he wasn’t sure he was up for the inevitable exchange of barbs, the contest of wit, that would ensue.