Long habit allowed him to maintain a steady pace, even though he could almost feel the scopes and sights on his back. Once he had made it back to the warehouse without being riddled with spines, he snorted at the troops outside. Morons, they had all moved their sights to him instead of staying in their fields.
“They really coulda used me.” Without looking up, he called out in a loud voice, “Back in position, Tirnich, or your whole squad’s running doubles tonight.”
“Yes, Training Lieutenant.” Tirnich scampered down off a stack of crates—the perch from which he had been staring out through the hole in the thin, filmy line of small windows. He climbed down the ladder and jogged to Fismar, unable, as always, to disguise what he was feeling. “I saw a bunch of soldiers out there. Are we in trouble?”
“Something’s going on somewhere else,” Fismar said. “And if that something sends ’em in, we’ll fight. If it doesn’t, we’ll get back to work. Were you expecting to get out of this line of work alive?”
“I hoped so, Training Lieutenant. Actually, I hadn’t thought much on it,” Tirnich said.
Fismar raised a finger. “And don’t start thinking now. Never takes you anywhere good. Get back to your squad and stay ready, trooper.”
Tirnich nodded. His face was full of the kind of boyish earnestness and loyalty Fismar had never known in his own youth. “Quick as three, Training Lieutenant!”
Shan rubbed her palms against the table of the small, brightly lit interrogation room. The wardens had refused to answer her questions as they pulled her out of the holding area. They had also refused to intervene when the large woman next to her, half-cooked on low grade Havoc, arms a roadmap of old scars, had decided to unleash some pent up energy by pummeling Shan’s face.
She passed a hand over her swollen cheek and split lip. Her palms were soaked with sweat.
“Karg, karg, karg.” She looked up, one eye squinted, at the places she knew the hidden viscams would be mounted.
What now? Was this the part where they dragged her off and stuck the metal in her? She touched her neck where the graft would go, then lowered her forehead to the table.
Eraranat wasn’t coming to save her. If anything, he would be the first to send her to the ponds if he believed those bastards who said she had stolen his caj.
“I’m an idiot.” She wrapped her hands around the back of her head.
“What happened?”
Shan’s head jerked up at the sound of Seg’s voice. She had missed the light hiss of the door opening. In a few quick steps he stood across from her, at the opposite end of the table. He looked as bad as she felt. Tired. And something else.
“Your caj went for a walk. Got into some trouble, I intervened. I didn’t steal her, you know that’s a load of shit, right?”
She was pleased to see him nod. And he wasn’t yelling, which inspired the faintest flicker of hope.
“What’s this business with the MRRC violation?” he asked.
Shan bit her lip instinctively, then winced. She thought about the invisible recording devices. If she was going to sell this, she would have to switch gears.
“I was in the mood for a ride.” She rose out of the chair and sauntered over to Seg’s side of the table. “Wanted some company and your caj was stuck in the RQ with no place to go.” She shrugged, reached her hand into the inside pocket of her flight suit and pretended to scratch as she palmed the digifilm hidden there. “Gets boring flying Stormwatch, you know? Thought I’d do some sightseeing.”
“I was led to believe this conversation was of some importance.” Seg’s already creased brow folded even further. He pushed past her toward the exit.
“Whoa, what the karg?” She grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and tugged him back toward her, surreptitiously dropping the film into his pocket as she did. “We were just sightseeing. Interesting stuff out in the wasteland, believe it or not. Besides, it’s not like I’m the first skyrider to break the rules.”
“Pilot Welkin, return to your seat and get to the point or I will have you taken back to holding.”
Shan wandered back to the chair and flopped into it. One boot against the table leg, she rocked back until the chair balanced on two legs. “Better?”
Seg stared through her, the emotionless bastard.
“Your MRRC contract is being severed and I’ve assumed your debt for the damages from your sightseeing tour. You’ll wait for me at your residence.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“My facilitator will see to your removal from here. Do you need medical treatment?”
“Nah, had worse.” Shan let the chair drop forward. She was quiet for a minute, rubbing her palms on her thighs. “Your caj … what did they do with her?”
His gaze moved past her, to the wall. “She will be sent to processing after I settle matters here. Now, if that’s all, I have business.”
Shan swallowed hard. “That’s all.”
She shouldn’t have cared. All caj went through processing; it was the normal way. But she had grown used to this one the way she was and was bothered by the thought of what she would be after they had broken her. “That’s all.” She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her flight suit, and lowered her head.
Facilitator Agudo was waiting for Seg when he exited the interrogation room.
“Let’s get this taken care of. I have more important matters to tend to,” he said. Some of the facility’s recording devices were apparent, others were not, but Agudo had made it clear that everything he said and did would be recorded and studied.
“Of course, Theorist.” Agudo held out her hand to indicate the path Seg should follow. “The documents are prepared. The facilitator for the other parties will give you a brief synopsis and you’ll give them your imprint. After that, you’ll be escorted to see your caj and confirm that it is in proper working order and good health.”
“Of course.” Seg straightened his coat as he walked and lifted his shoulders to add to the impression his height already created.
As they approached, he quickly assessed the room’s occupants. Two wardens, four men in raider kit, and a seventh, the facilitator. Seg met each gaze before he turned to the warden.
Facilitator Agudo stepped forward. “Warden, Facilitator Certine.” She nodded to each. “My client, Theorist Eraranat, has been briefed on the negotiated settlement and agreement. We are ready to proceed.”
“Eraranat,” Facilitator Certine said, his face sliding into a smile. “You’ll forgive me if I say this is a pleasure. To meet you, that is.” He held up his hand, palm open, in greeting.
“There are many who feel that way,” Seg said, hands at his sides.
Certine was dressed and groomed in keeping with his profession and position—fastidious and put-together except for one detail. The lid over his left eye drooped slightly, altering every expression so as to make it unreadable. Undoubtedly Certine could afford surgery to fix the defect but Seg guessed that he preferred the effect it had on others.
“I understand you are to deliver the specifics of the Facilitated Agreement?” he asked Facilitator Certine. As he spoke, he studied the four raiders closely. Force Commander Hatterin was familiar; Seg had spoken to the man mere weeks before, to contract his unit for a special mission during the raid. The mission Shan had taken part in, as co-pilot. The other three raiders were obviously low-paid specimens of the same unit. Hatterin, at least, could look him in the eye. The other three slunk away from his gaze.
He would remember their faces, regardless.
“Man of action, man of action. I’d heard that about you,” Facilitator Certine said. His good-natured chuckle inspired no cheer as he passed Seg a digipad. “You’ll find everything there. But I’m sure Ley has coached you on all of this already. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how lucky you are, either.”
“Please allow my client to read the document without disturbance, Facilitator Certine,” Facilitator Agudo said.
Certine made a lip-sealing gesture with his fingers, and winked.
Seg scrolled through the agreement, which was padded with obscure language typical of legal documents. The need for those who practiced writing codes of law to utilize arcane language to camouflage meanings seemed to be nearly universal among the advanced cultures he had studied. He finished the document, and then ostentatiously scrolled back up to review a section. As he skimmed over it again, he watched the responses of those in the room out of the corner of his eye.
They had the leverage here, without question. But he also wanted them to bear in mind that they were dealing with a Theorist of the Guild, with the capacity to make all their lives unpleasant if he were to bear a grudge.
“In the interest of disclosure, I should inform you that there are about seventy armed troopers surrounding your warehouse in Old Town at this very moment,” Facilitator Certine said, with a smile rendered enigmatic by the lazy eyelid. “As soon as we have your imprint, we’ll send the signal for them to back off. If not—” He raised his hands and brushed his palms together twice. “It’s out of my hands.”
“There was no mention of this in your briefing!” Agudo thrust her digipad at Certine.
Seg raised his hand to cut off Agudo, then gave Certine a long, hard stare before turning back to the digipad he held. He scrolled down and pressed his thumb against the indicated spot on the screen. The skin whitened around the tip of the digit as he ground it against the digipad, distorting the screen and threatening to crack it with the pressure. He lifted his thumb away and offered the digipad back to Certine. “The deal is acceptable.”
“Oh, I’d say it’s more than that.” The friendliness had bled out of Certine’s tone. “So, now that we’ve taken care of the formalities, let’s move along to the meat of moment, shall we?” The twinkle was back in his eye, but it was sinister and hinted at something uncivilized deep beneath Certine’s polished exterior.
“Let’s.” Seg folded his arms and leaned forward slightly.
“Your caj will be sent for grafting immediately, then on to—”
“My client’s caj will not be grafted. The amp collar issued upon seizure will suffice,” Agudo said.
“Ley, you know the terms of the agreement.” Certine held out the digipad with a half smile.
“Continue with this informality and I’ll file a grievance, Facilitator Certine. I know the terms. A permanent control device is required for the caj. An amp collar fits that description. If you doubt me, refer to the agreement.”
“I will,” Certine said. “And I’ll take a moment to confer with my clients, Facilitator Agudo.”
Seg snuck a sideways glance at Agudo but she remained impassive while Certine gathered the Force Commander and the three raiders in the far corner of the room. A moment later the gathering broke.
“Acceptable,” Certine said, though the twitch of his lips said otherwise. “Let’s go inspect your property, Theorist.”
Agudo stepped to Seg’s side. “I will accompany my client.”
“Oh, I’m sure the Theorist doesn’t need you to hold his hand now that the deal is done,” Certine said.
“This is not a question of—”
“Facilitator,” Seg cut in. He tilted his head slightly to indicate he could handle Certine alone. “Finish your work here. I’ll return shortly.”
She nodded curtly.
Certine’s tone was conversational as he ambled down the corridor. “As you know, you have five days to forward the agreed upon financial compensation. One minute late and this agreement will be revoked, your caj will be destroyed, and any arrangements you’ve made concerning Pilot Welkin will be null and void. But—” He waved his hand. “—that’s all standard procedure. Now, as to your caj.”
They approached the lift and Certine paused and studied Seg’s face for the slightest of moments.
“Your caj is stored in a below-ground level. They don’t get much property in the Pit and they couldn’t mix it with People. You understand. It’s in good condition, though. Healthy. You’ll get years of use out of it, and I think you’ll find that processing will make it much more pliable. You know, like rough weave huchack, it needs to be worn in a little to make it comfortable, right?”
“I’ve long held that we’ve become too comfortable with accepting the labor of others, Facilitator.” Seg’s face locked in a cold mask. The lift doors opened and he stepped in, allowing Certine to trail after him.
“Oh I agree, I agree.” Certine pressed the lowest icon on the pad. “But, clearly, you have more important concerns than training your caj yourself. Otherwise it wouldn’t have been running loose, attacking People. They are animals, after all. Am I right?”
“Animals.” Seg clasped his hands behind his back. “I do not prefer to allow my property to be handled by lessers. There was an error here, obviously. Recompense will be made, at the time agreed upon. This business will be conducted according to the specifications in the Facilitated Agreement, as I have imprinted. You may stop speaking now if you wish to continue the practice of facilitation within the boundaries of Cathind.”
“Ha! Oh, I like you, I do. Feisty. Might see you in the Pit again, if the voice in here is correct.” He tapped the side of his head with two fingers. “And it always is. I’ve been at this a long time, Theorist. I know my rights. I know yours. So I won’t talk to you, and you don’t have to listen, but I will talk.” He cleared his throat in a loud, phlegmy rumble. “The caj has been collared. The collar stays on now. Always and always. You unlock it? An alarm sounds, these nice fellows show up, collect your animal and hit the switch. Dead. They catch it anywhere without a handler within ten meters holding the controls? An alarm sounds, etcetera. Caj causes one problem, touches one hair on the head of a Person? Well, you know the deal.”
The lift doors opened and Certine stepped out. “It goes to processing immediately after you confirm it’s not been damaged. The processor may be your lesser, Eraranat, but he will do whatever he damn well pleases with this animal. Don’t bother crying to Agudo or the Guild or waving your big dick around at me, either. You karged up and this is the price.”
He turned to Seg, the mask of civility wiped clean.
“As per the Facilitated Agreement, you’ll present your caj, with the others from your raid, at the Haffset Victory Commemoration, as is standard protocol. Do I have to tell you what happens if you don’t?”
“You’ve made yourself abundantly clear.” Seg’s breathing accelerated.
“It’s a feisty one, too, isn’t it? Your animal? That means things are going to be very bad for it in processing.” He pulled out the amp collar’s control device for Seg to see. “Very bad.”
“In the future, Artus Certine, bear in mind that you were given the opportunity to be quiet.”
“Bear in mind, Theorist, that Processor Gressam is a personal friend of mine.” He strode forward, down the gray and forgotten hallway, to a small door. It slid open and revealed the dark outline of a shape crouched in the corner. “Come on out, you can come out now, caj,” Certine said, sweetly.
Ama raised her head, looked from man to man then leapt up and bounded out of the tiny closet. “Seg!”
Certine turned to Seg and smiled as he pushed the button on the controller.
Ama let out a piercing scream, clutched at her neck, then dropped to the ground. Her body was ravaged by wild spasms and the scream intensified as tears streamed from her eyes.
Seg restrained himself, repeating Agudo’s warnings about his behavior like a mantra, as Ama’s cries echoed through the corridor.
“Effective, wouldn’t you agree?’ Certine asked, still smiling, thumb pressed to the button with no sign of release.
&nbs
p; “ENOUGH!” Seg shouted.
Certine did as ordered but Seg could see the calculating look, the flash of victory.
“The agreement allowed for correction by a duly appointed processor,” Seg quickly added. He clasped his hands behind his back once more and rendered his face neutral. “You are not a qualified processor and therefore you’ve overstepped your boundaries.”
“Have I? Most humble apologies, honored Theorist.”
Ama’s body went limp. She heaved out several deep breaths and shuffled to one side to distance herself from Certine.
“Seg?” With a choked sob, she looked up at him.
Certine kept his eyes on Seg as well. Waiting.
Seg held out a hand for the controller, fighting to keep it steady. “Your apology and humility are accepted, Facilitator. There will be no need for messy business, such as redress, to resolve this.”
Wordlessly, Certine passed over the controller.
Ama stood, her legs wobbly. “Seg, I’m sorry. Those men, they were—”
“ON THE FLOOR!” Seg triggered the controller briefly. “Retyel!”
Ama jolted at the shock, then lowered to her knees. With a loud swallow, she assumed the basic position of caj to owner—forehead to the floor, fists on either side of her head.
Seg had seen the pose thousands of times in his lifetime. But this time it was as if he were watching through someone else’s eyes—someone who saw the position without a veil of familiarity or social conditioning clouding their judgment. His stomach felt like a wet rag being wrung out.
“We’ll need the uniform back before it’s sent to processing, by the way.” Certine jerked his thumb to indicate the flight suit Ama wore.
Seg lifted his foot and placed it on the back of Ama’s head, pressing it to the floor as gently as he could without giving himself away. He rattled off the formal release and lifted his foot.
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