“Add it to my debt.” He tossed the collar’s controller back to Certine. “We all have to live with the consequences of our choices, Facilitator. Is there any further business?”
“That’s all. It will be collected shortly and taken to processing. You’ll be notified when it’s been cleared for release.” He stabbed a finger toward the closet. “Back in, caj.”
Ama looked at Seg, her eyes wide and rimmed with red. Silently, he berated himself for his lack of foresight. A code, something as simple as a word or gesture, could have let her know that this was an act and she was to play her part. As it was, he tried to meet her questions with a wordless answer, hoping the bond that had been forged between them in such a short time would be enough to make his meaning clear. To her, but not to Certine. He could not hold the secret message for long; he looked through her, past her, made her invisible.
She shook her head. “Don’t leave me here. You can’t leave me here!”
Did she understand? He had no way to know.
Certine raised the controller. Ama let out a howl of rage and frustration, then backed into the closet.
“All done. Should I show you out, Theorist, or is my assistance beneath you?”
“It is very much beneath me,” Seg said.
Jarin knew there was something wrong even before Segkel entered the trans. His aide, Gelad, had been stationed outside the Warden Facilitation Center to collect the young Theorist and drive him home: Jarin had anticipated resistance, even hostility. Segkel always resented his mentor’s interference. But the moment Segkel had noticed Gelad, he had headed toward the trans and climbed in the back without a word of exchange.
Now, inside the trans, sitting across from Jarin, his state of mind was clear. To someone less familiar with him, Segkel would have appeared stoic, unmoved. But Jarin, who had practically raised the boy, saw beneath the façade with ease.
There were, of course, the tremors. His former student had obviously been leaning heavily on doses of stimulants to assist with the rigors of the Question. But there was something else, an expression Jarin had seen many times before in the field, on the faces of raiders who had sustained serious injuries but had consciously pushed the pain away and soldiered on—because there was no other choice. But some pain cannot be thought away and, as with the wounded raiders, it flared to the surface in quick bursts, shining through in glimpses before Segkel could push it down once more.
Worst of all, in Segkel he saw his younger self, his own suffering and the effort it still took, every day, to contain it.
“I’m sorry,” Jarin said.
The trans hummed away from the Warden Facilitation Center.
“You warned me,” Segkel said.
“Facilitator Agudo has given me the terms of the compromise she was able to reach with Facilitator Certine.”
“You sent her?” Segkel shook his head almost as soon as the question was out. “Never mind. Of course you did. Certine, he’s CWA-backed?”
“What gives you that impression?”
“On his own, Force Commander Hatterin would have settled for simple compensation for the MRRC breach. I am, after all, a former and potential future client and also a vector for the advertising of his services. And those three raiders possess no capacity for refined cruelty; torturing caj is the high-end of their capabilities. Therefore, an outside agent was in play, and the CWA is who I have offended recently.”
“Excellent deduction.”
Segkel sagged back in his seat and Jarin saw another flare of pain cross his face. “I want Certine dead. He didn’t give me enough to challenge him.”
“Of course he didn’t, and you should not consider such an action. A Theorist dueling like a simple House cur?” Jarin’s brow furrowed with disgust. “Many People share your opinion of Facilitator Certine, but retribution is unlikely to come any time soon.”
“So if this is not another lecture about Ama, why are you here?” Segkel asked.
Jarin shifted in his seat, looked out the window of the trans for a moment, then turned back to face his former pupil. “This incident was only one potential miscue. Fortunately, we were able to contain matters when the CWA activated their local account to retain Certine’s services. However, there is also scrutiny of your strange goings-on at this warehouse you’ve rented in the Old Town. It would seem as though you are training these men you brought over as combatants in raider technique.”
“So it would seem.”
“To what end?”
“My own.”
A moment of silence passed between them. Pushing his protégé was a delicate exercise at the best of times, and now was far from the best of times.
“I have a question for you, Jarin.”
Jarin waved a beckoning hand.
“The CWA activated an account. There is monitoring of my Outers. I’m aware Guild Intelligence keeps eyes and ears on many things but it’s curious how this information keeps getting routed your way. Either you are burning every favor you’ve ever accumulated, or …” his voice trailed off as he looked at his mentor.
Jarin sat back in his seat and stared out the windshield straight ahead. He pursed his lips thoughtfully and met Gelad’s gaze in the mirror. He had always known this moment would come but, as with so much else that concerned Segkel, he had not counted on it arriving so quickly. With a nod to his own unspoken question, he began: “You know my deputy in the Guild Education Service, Theorist Rillz?”
Segkel nodded.
“In reality, Theorist Rillz manages the affairs of the Guild Educational Service almost entirely exclusive of my attention, beyond token public affairs I must attend. When I retire from the Educational Service in a few years, Rillz will assume the duties in title that she has carried in practice and compensation for a decade now.”
“And?” Segkel asked.
“And Theorist Staur of the Guild Intelligence Division is my actual deputy, though he carries the title of Selectee for the GID.”
“You run the Guild Intelligence Division?” Segkel’s shoulders slumped and his head lolled back against the seat. “That is so perfectly convoluted. So very … you.”
“You will discuss this with no one, ever. It is known only to the Council and a few other senior Theorists. Even within those respective departments the truth is not known by many, and, with the exception of Theorist Rillz, none in the Educational Service.”
“And so, Gelad?” Seg looked at the back of the large man’s head.
“Has been operating as an agent in the GID for the past twenty years, slightly less time than I have. I recruited him, as it happens.”
“I see.”
“I tell you this because it is important you understand how far-reaching my comprehension of the attitudes and maneuvers of the World is. You are drawing attention. Aside from our own personnel, and the CWA, you are drawing attention from the MRRC, and several other notable organizations and Houses. You remind them of Lannit, who at his apex was more notorious and famous than you, and more influential. They remember the damage he did, after his fall from glory.”
“Do they forget Lannit was the driving force behind the founding of Con-4?”
“And the three previous construct cities that failed to survive and prosper. Are you planning on building a new city?”
“No, I’m simply observing that for all his failure at the end, Lannit was at least leading the People away from stagnation,” Segkel said. He fell silent.
Jarin watched the young man’s fingers grip the seat, then relax, several times in succession. He saw the line of his mouth come together, then falter. In his own way, Segkel was as much a victim of the system as Amadahy. Jarin’s gaze drifted out the window—they would not kill the girl, there was that small compensation, but what would they return to Segkel when they were finished? Perhaps death would
have been easier.
“So, tell me, with all the resources at the command of the GID, you still have no idea what I’m considering?” Segkel asked, startling him out of his thoughts.
Jarin raised an eyebrow. “No.”
“Good. Take me home, Mar Gelad. I will take the next forty-eight hours away from the Question, to tend to my personal affairs. Please inform Theorist Aimaz.”
Jarin stared at him, the question unspoken but clear.
“There are terms to the facilitated agreement that require my immediate attention. I need this time,” Seg said.
“And time to shake off the chemical assistance you have been relying upon?” Jarin glanced at Segkel’s hands, the telltale tremors. His former student offered no response, as he had expected. “Breaks from the Question are rare. Maryel will press this matter.”
“We’ll deal with that moment as it comes.”
Seg stepped into his residence and pushed the button of his comm to end his conversation with Fismar. The warehouse was secure, the raider perimeter had disbanded and departed. Everything was under control.
Manatu was at his side before the door had even closed. “Theorist?”
“I need you to go to the RQ. Retrieve Pilot Welkin from her residence.” He fumbled in his pocket, hand now shaking so badly he could barely grasp the mini-film that he passed to Manatu. “Co-ords are here.”
“You don’t look so good.” Manatu frowned. “You want—”
“Not a word to anyone. Straight there, then straight to the warehouse.” From his other pocket he withdrew the digifilm Shan had covertly passed to him. “Get this to Fismar. This—” He held the film just out of Manatu’s reach. “This must reach the warehouse. You do whatever it takes to protect this. Understood?”
“Understood.” Manatu tucked the film into the pocket inside his vest, zipped it closed and patted a hand over it.
“And take Lissil with you,” Seg added, as the girl appeared.
“Theorist?” Manatu directed a raised eyebrow toward Lissil.
“Lissil, you understand how to behave? As caj? In public?” Seg asked.
“Of course, Theorist.” She bowed her head slightly.
Of course. Of course the Welf who had been born to a life of servitude would know what was expected of her. But for someone like Ama? Someone who had captained her own boat and lived free on the open water?
“You have your orders, now go.” He pushed his way past both of them into the common room.
He pulled on the lever to release the couch from the wall. Alone again, he felt the shaking he had been fighting start to work its way through his body. His knees went weak and a sudden spasm wrenched his stomach. He staggered toward the cleansing room but his stomach heaved before he could reach it. As he collapsed to his knees, the pittance he had eaten that morning erupted from his mouth. Bile and stringy saliva followed, as his stomach emptied itself in painful convulsions. He crumpled, narrowly avoiding the mess on the floor with one final effort. The ceiling spun, his temples throbbed and his throat burned. He could barely feel the spastic shivering of his limbs as his thoughts scattered away from him.
“I should have left you on your world.”
Fismar emerged from the shadows of the warehouse, waving a hand at the pointed sefts. Around him, the Kenda relaxed. He nodded to Manatu, “You can safe that weapon, Trooper.”
Manatu slowly lowered his pistol and nodded back to Fismar. “Yes, Lieutenant.”
Shan and Manatu’s arrival was expected, but he didn’t know what to make of the dusky skinned woman—caj by her downcast eyes—who lingered behind the boss’s bodyguard. Whatever the reason, he felt the room spark to life as the Kenda reacted to the overtly female presence. He made a note to mention to Eraranat that if they lived through this suicidal attack on Julewa Keep these boys would need more than fresh food and some liquor as a reward.
“Expecting company, Fis?” Shan asked, as she surveyed the mass of armed Kenda hovering nearby.
“Vigilance keeps us alive,” Fismar said.
“Mobility makes us dangerous,” one of the Kenda added. The rest shouted the conclusion. “Firepower makes us lethal!”
“You don’t have to chant that when we have guests, boys. So what’s with the visit?” he asked Shan.
“Remember that thing you didn’t tell me about?” Shan nodded to Manatu, who pulled a digifilm from his pocket.
Fismar scrolled through the data. She had done it, karging unbelievable as that was. Shan had done the best survey of that wasteland fortress in almost a century.
“Penetrated mapping, deep thermals, head count …” He scrolled back. “Two-oh-seven before diffusion.” His mouth spread in a broad grin and he seized Shan in a bear hug. “My favorite skyrider!”
She let him squeeze her but returned none of the enthusiasm. When she was free again, she slipped her hands in her pockets and lowered her head. “Well, I had help.” She cleared her throat and scooped her pack off the ground. “I think Manatu has words from the boss. Is there some place I can rack out?”
He nodded to one of the troopers. “Tolner, get Welkin a rack, a field pack, and the code key for comms. Make sure everyone knows she’s supposed to be here.”
He turned back to Manatu. “What’ve you got for me, Trooper?”
“Theorist said for me to bring the rider pilot in and tell you to keep things sharp here. He’s got situations going on back in-city, still working on the gear and he’ll get to you soon on it.”
“Any chance he could cut you loose to join in over here? Day or two? Could use your help and it would keep you from gathering dust.”
“I’ll ask,” Manatu said. His head whipped around at the sound of a clatter.
Fismar didn’t react to the commotion. He had noticed the female caj making eyes at Squad Leader Cerd, then shuffling toward him. Maybe she had tripped accidentally, maybe not, but Cerd had dropped his seft at the sight and lunged to catch her. His hands were around the caj’s waist moments before she hit the ground.
“Careful now, there’s dangerous goods everywhere here. Watch your step,” Cerd said.
“Thank you,” the caj replied, her voice breathy. “I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy.”
Manatu stepped in, grasped the woman’s arm and tugged her away from Cerd. “Keep back, Outer. She belongs to the Theorist.”
Cerd didn’t back down despite Manatu’s obvious size advantage. Notable. “The lady needed help. I don’t care who thinks they own her.”
“It’s none of your concern.” Manatu stood motionless before Cerd.
Cerd’s squad moved up to support him, sliding to the sides to flank the man challenging their leader.
“ENOUGH!” Fismar barked. “Cerd, get your people back to their racks because I am by the Storm going to wear your asses out tomorrow.”
As Cerd and his people filed away, Manatu leaned over to Fismar. “You could’ve gotten into that sooner.”
“Wanted to see if his people would back him like they should. Wouldn’t have let it go further’n that.”
“Tolner!”
Shan raised her head slightly at the sound of the familiar, annoying voice. The big-mouthed Outer she had threatened to shoot, back in decon, was striding toward them.
“Your Squad Leader needs to see you, quick as three,” Big Mouth said.
“But …” Tolner glanced to Shan.
“I’ll take it from here, deckie.” Big Mouth smiled and gestured for the other Outer to move along, which he did. “My Lady of the Sky, a pleasure to welcome you.” Big Mouth finished with a dramatic sweep of his hand. “I fear you and I got off to an unfortunate start. My name is Viren Hult, formerly of T’ueve. And you are?”
Shan looked him over just long enough to let the Outer know she would still happily shoot him and th
en resumed her walk.
“Nice weapon.” She nodded to the pipe formation he carried in one hand.
Viren tossed the pipe from one hand to the next. “As the good Lieutenant says, shoot them, stab them, hit them, bite them, whatever works. I would apologize for our less-than-pleasant accommodations, but I have a feeling you’ve seen worse.” He nodded to Shan’s black eye and split, swollen lip, “However, we do have auto-meds.”
“Don’t need it,” Shan said.
“Something to eat then?” He fished around in his pocket, pulled out a tube of vegetable paste. “Our finest dining experience, I fear.”
“I’m here because … Because I am.” Shan’s eyes focused ahead, away from her escort. “You’re still an Outer. I don’t make friends with Outers. Just get me where I need to be and leave me the karg alone.”
They rounded the corner of a line of crates and pallets and he pointed toward the area being hastily cleared away for her use. “Oh, I think you’ll find me—”
He waved his hand to indicate the rest of the Outers.
“—us, that is, tolerable company. Tolerable and generous.” He offered the tube of vegetable paste again, as his band of Outers laid out her bunkroll.
“You think wrong,” Shan said.
Viren slowly, carefully replaced the tube of paste in his pocket. “If you say so, my Lady.” He bowed low and then whistled for the rest of the savages to join him.
“Stupid Outers.” The words caught in Shan’s throat. She hurled her bag alongside the bunk and wished there was something breakable within easy reach.
All Ama knew about her destination, or what would happen there, came secondhand, from snatches of overheard conversation. No one would talk to her and her few questions had been met with painful jolts from the collar clamped around her neck.
Processing, this was where she was being sent. To be tamed. According to the guards, who had jabbered at each other as they tossed her into a windowless compartment in the back of a trans, this should have been done the moment she set foot on their world.
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