by Cara Bristol
“Here’s your warrant.” The first man who’d barged in shoved a sheet of parchment at her, and barked at me, “Are you Aton?”
“Don’t answer that!” Toni said. “Don’t say anything.”
“Aton of Dakon, you’re under arrest for illegally entering Earth. Place your hands on your head.” He aimed one of those Taser devices at me.
I hesitated, glancing at Toni.
“You better do it.” Her voice quivered as if she was about to cry. “Do what they say, but don’t say anything.”
“Are you interfering with his arrest?” The man narrowed his eyes.
I stifled a growl as Toni motioned for me to obey the order. I laced my fingers atop my head.
“Interfering how? Telling him to comply? Informing him of his rights? I’m his attorney,” she snapped.
“He’s an extraterrestrial. He doesn’t have any rights! Cuff him.” The man motioned to one of his fellow guards but ceased issuing threatening glances at my mate.
“I’m going to get you released, I promise,” Toni said, as they yanked my arms behind my back and snapped metal bracelets around my wrists. She followed, trotting alongside as they hustled me barefooted out of the house to the street.
They shoved me into a vehicle.
“Don’t say anything to anybody. I’ll get you out, I promise! I love you!” was the last comment I heard before we drove away.
* * * *
“Your attorney is here.” A guard stopped outside my warding cell.
“Toni?” Thank the Fates, she’d come. I’d been locked up all night. I’d wanted to demand answers of the guards who’d brought me meals, but she’d impressed upon me the need to remain silent, and I had to trust her judgment.
I leaped up.
“No, not Antoinette, sorry.” A silver-haired man in dark-gray clothing stepped into view.
“Stand back,” the guard ordered. Keeping his Taser pointed at me, he deactivated the force field, and it collapsed with a crackle. When they’d first dumped me in the ward, I hadn’t known about the electrified wall. When I’d tried to leave, the shock threw me onto the floor and caused painful tingling for hours.
The man stepped inside my cell.
The guard reactivated the field. “Give a shout when you’re done,” he said and left.
“We met at the courthouse one day. I’m Phillip Markham,” said the man.
“I remember.” What I recalled was him badgering my mate, how she didn’t like him. Why was he here?
“How are they treating you?”
“All right.” On Dakon, men who caused trouble were sometimes warded. On their honor, they remained in a special hut or a cave. They weren’t locked in the way I was in this windowless maze of tiny, overcrowded cells. Three to four men shared a space too small for one. My area barely accommodated a metal bunk wedged between opposite stone block walls. When lying down, I couldn’t extend my legs, and I had to be careful not to hit my head on the bed above me. At least the other two bunks in the stack were empty. I had a cell to myself. Not so the others.
I’d gotten little sleep because of the noise, the multiplicity of alien tongues blurring into an ever-present buzz. The lights overhead hummed, too.
“Shall we sit?” Phillip gestured and then sank onto my bunk. His brows wrinkled with consternation. “This is…uncomfortable.”
“Yes,” I agreed. The thin padding did little to soften the metal and allowed the cold to seep through.
“Maybe we can do something about that.” He smiled as if we were friends, but I couldn’t forget how he’d treated my mate. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”
“Yes.”
“I would like to represent you—as your counsel.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means I can get you out of here.”
I could go back to Toni! My heart raced with relief, but a little voice—and her last words—urged me to tread with caution. “How? Why would you help me?”
“Why doesn’t matter. Only the how. If I’m your attorney, you’ll need to be honest with me. You can’t hold back. The smallest detail could be crucial to getting you out of here.”
“Toni said she would get me out.”
His mouth curled briefly. “Yes, well, she can try. However, Antoinette doesn’t know what I know—or who I know. I have contacts within the Department of Extraterrestrial Immigration.” He looked at me. “They’re not going to release you—ever. They will either lock you away in a prison, or deport you to your home planet. Either way, you’ll never see Antoinette again.”
If they sent me to Dakon, I had a chance of reuniting with Toni. I’d managed to get here once, I could do it again. But if they kept me incarcerated, that would be bad. Very bad.
“I’d like to see Toni. Can you arrange that?” I asked.
“She’s on the do-not-admit list, but if you accept my help, I’ll see what I can do. So, do you want my assistance?”
“What do you want to know?”
Chapter Thirteen
Toni
Maridelle hurried around the corner, and I jumped up from the bench.
“Sorry, I’m late,” she said. “I kept trying to get through to my contact, but the system is down.”
“So, nothing good to report.” Low spirits sagged even further. Five days had passed since immigration had arrested Aton, and I’d been unable to secure his release, unable to speak to him, unable to find him. I had no idea where immigration had taken him—nobody would talk to me over there. Maridelle kept hitting brick walls, too.
She eyed me sympathetically. “How are you holding up?”
“Not well,” I admitted. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep, I can’t concentrate. Megan rescheduled many of my appointments, but some of them can’t be postponed. I have to pull it together because a big case goes to trial next week. I’d hoped to settle out of court, but Phillip is the opposing counsel. He’s been surprisingly pleasant lately, but I’m not going to hold my breath.”
Maridelle glanced around the park. “Let’s walk while we talk.”
I was too antsy to sit for long, anyway. My nerves jittered with a need to do something. Aton was being detained somewhere, and after promising I’d get him released, I couldn’t locate him. I’d never felt so helpless in my life.
We started down the path. Maridelle swiveled her head, took a deep breath, and exhaled. “It’s quiet here.” She’d been the one to suggest the venue. Morning dew glistened on the grass at Griffith Park, and even the diehard joggers weren’t out yet. I’d only seen two people since I’d gotten here.
“Every time I get a handle on where Aton might be, immigration moves him, and I’m back to square one,” she said.
At least she’d verified the authorities had him. For a while, I’d begun to wonder if the officers had been fakes. Every person I’d contacted within the department had denied any knowledge of him. Maridelle had sources and resources I didn’t—not that they’d gotten her much further. But, it was a small relief to know he hadn’t been kidnapped.
“How can they do this?” I squeezed my hands into fists. “What happened to due process?”
“It doesn’t apply to aliens. They have no rights. Historically, xenophobia follows a huge influx of immigration. Through various private programs, extraterrestrials have been flooding into Earth. The government fears they might not all be friendly, so they’re taking a hard-line approach, scrutinizing to the nth degree everyone who applies for entry and screening out anyone they perceive might pose a threat.”
“Aton’s not a threat—and why can’t I vouch for him? For goodness’ sake, my mother is Caroline Gates Sutterman, of the Sinclair Gates. Her family goes back to the California Gold Rush.” The United States didn’t have royalty, but if it did, the Gates would have been it. I didn’t like to brag, claim special privilege, or throw my mother’s name around, but if it would free Aton, I’d do it in a heartbeat. “There has to be something I can do to save him!�
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“He broke the law—before he even got here. The bottom line is, legally there is nothing we can do to save him. I’ve exhausted every angle within the bounds of the law.” She hesitated. “I’ve been trying to reach Andrea Simmons on Dakon, but the planet must be having a major storm because the ’Net connection has been down.”
I frowned. “Andrea? Isn’t she the one who arranged for my sister to get shipments of macha flour for her cupcakes?”
“Yes.”
“What can she do?”
“Maybe nothing. I’m grasping at straws,” Maridelle admitted. “We’re running out of time.”
“So what’s going to happen? Is there going to be a hearing? Will he remain incarcerated for the rest of his life?”
“No hearing. Remember, he’s an extraterrestrial and not entitled to due process.” She sighed. “Which brings me to more bad news.”
My stomach plunged. More? What else could there be? “W-what?”
“A deportation ship leaves the day after tomorrow. Aton is listed on the manifest.”
I sucked in a breath. “They’re sending him back to Dakon?” As long as he remained on Earth, a possibility existed, albeit a slim one, I could get him freed. My mother was fiercely anti-alien and had almost blown a blood vessel when my sister had hooked up with Darak, so I’d never introduced her to Aton. However, I was her favorite child, and if I begged and pleaded and sold her my soul, maybe she would put in a good word with the retiring governor, who might consider approaching the president with a request of amnesty for Aton, before leaving office. But if Aton got sent back to Dakon—
Maridelle stopped walking. “Unfortunately…no. He’s headed for the detention space facility for extraterrestrials, immigration’s moon-based satellite.”
I stared at her in horror. “Why? I get they don’t want him here, but why not return him to his own planet?”
“Because too many extraterrestrials have arrived from too many different planets. It would be cost prohibitive to ship them to their home worlds, which are located all over the galaxy. Plus, since they managed to sneak onto Earth once, the government fears they might be successful again. They’re trying to stop a revolving door.”
Tears clogged my throat. “There’s nothing we can do?”
The sympathy in her eyes reiterated the hopelessness. “I’m not giving up, but you need to prepare yourself for Aton’s departure.”
* * * *
Two days later
The craft looked like a prison ship, three large cylindrical chambers connected by two narrower, shorter tubes, forming a gunmetal-gray blot against the rosy dawn sky as it lifted off.
My heart, my hopes, my dreams, my love lodged in my throat as I watched the spaceship launch from the Immigration Deportation Center. I’d played the “I’m-Aton’s-attorney” card, and Maridelle had fought for me on her end, but they’d refused to let me see him before he left. They’d even denied me admission to the facility to watch him board the ship. I had to park on the road outside.
The ship accelerated into the atmosphere, becoming smaller and smaller, shrinking to a dot then disappearing all together.
I never got to say goodbye.
“Atonnnn! Atonnnn!” Sobs burst out of me in a gusting wail. I howled, beating my fists against the steering wheel. The horn went off, and I hit it again, and again, and again. “It’s not r-r-right! It’s not f-f-fair!” How could they do this? Why couldn’t they give him a chance? He’d deserved a hearing at least!
My body convulsed with the pain of losing him. I should have done more to save him, used the Gates’ name to secure a meeting with the governor myself! From my professional experience, I knew it rarely went well when a client ignored counsel’s advice, so I’d listened to Maridelle, who’d cautioned against using my family connections to get special treatment.
“It will appear you believe you’re above the law. I haven’t given up, and any publicity could damage our chance of getting Aton free. We’re in the middle of a storm; we have to wait for it to pass. Don’t do anything to jeopardize the situation.”
Storm? I should have caused a storm! I should have been the storm.
Now he was gone forever.
I didn’t blame Maridelle, but hindsight was 20/20. Probably going public would have resulted in backlash, but I’d never know if it might have worked. In desperation, last night I had called my mother to feel her out on contacting the governor if I chose to ignore Maridelle’s advice. My mother had said she’d sleep on it. I braced for a refusal, but even if she agreed, what good would it do now? If I hadn’t been able to get Aton out of an Earth-based detention facility, the odds of springing him from a space station were nil.
My body shook with the force of my weeping. Snot ran from my nose, but I didn’t care. I folded my arms on the steering wheel, buried my face, and sobbed.
Exhaustion finally stopped the tears; I didn’t have the energy to cry anymore, but aftershocks rippled through me. My eyes were swollen to slits, and my head ached. With the back of my hand, I wiped my runny nose.
Tap. Tap.
I jumped about three feet.
An immigration officer stood outside my window. He motioned for me to roll it down.
I started the ignition so I could press the window button then I switched it off.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said.
“I only came to watch the ship take off.”
“It’s gone, and you’re not allowed to park here. Security rules.” Baby-faced, he looked like he was fresh out of immigration school or the academy or wherever those assholes went for training.
“It’s a public street.”
“Actually, it’s not.” He pointed to a sign. NO STOPPING, NO PARKING.
It hadn’t been visible in the dark when I’d arrived.
“You need to leave.”
“I’m not doing anything.” Aton had been my world and, after losing him, I had nothing left to lose. This was not the day to mess with me.
He glanced left and right along the empty road then bent so we were eye level. “Your vehicle was spotted on camera, Ms. Sutterman. I’m sorry. I know you came to see him off, and I waited as long as I could, but I have to ask you to leave. Please don’t make me arrest you.”
“You know who I am?”
He nodded. “I sympathize, but I have to do my job.”
My heart thundered. Had they run the plates on my car—or had my name been flagged? I’d contacted quite a few higher-ups in immigration, but the rank and file shouldn’t know who I was or why I was here. From the beginning, I’d been stymied, but I’d assumed I was getting the typical government runaround. “Am I on a watchlist?”
“If you were, I couldn’t say,” he said and straightened. “Please.”
“All right.” I started the ignition. For some reason, this young officer had cut me some slack—and probably violated department policy to do so. “Thank you.”
He nodded and stepped back.
I drove away.
* * * *
As I entered the office, Megan got a glimpse of my face and rushed over. “Oh, Toni. Are you all right?”
I couldn’t even lie and put on a brave face. I shook my head.
“Did you get to see him before he left?”
“No,” I choked.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” Megan hugged me. The endearment probably wasn’t appropriate for an assistant to utter to her employer, but she had twenty years on me and, in private, treated me more like a daughter than a boss. She was protective of me—unlike my own mother, who’d called me with her answer about contacting the governor: no.
“Is there anything I can do?” Megan asked.
I shook my head. As soon as I could trust I wouldn’t disintegrate into tears, I’d call Maridelle to update her. The more I thought about what the immigration officer had revealed, the more questions arose. Though I’d hoped otherwise, it didn’t surprise me I hadn’t been able to get Aton relea
sed, but it had seemed strange how every attempt to speak to him had been blocked.
“You probably don’t remember, but I have a dentist appointment this afternoon. Root canal. I hired a temp to fill in, but I think I’ll cancel,” she said.
“No, you go on. I’ll be okay.”
She eyed me doubtfully. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Despite my grief, I was amused. “No weaseling out of your root canal.”
“That’s not why—well, maybe a little. Oh, by the way, your doctor called. You missed an appointment.”
“I totally forgot.”
“Do you want me to reschedule?”
“No, that’s okay.” My contraceptive implant only had a few days left, but why bother replacing it now? “I’m going to try to get some work done today.” I doubted I’d be very productive, but if I focused on my cases and not Aton, maybe the constriction in my chest might ease. Plus, I had to start clearing the backlog. I hadn’t gotten much done this week.
But, when I got home tonight, I would have a bottle of wine, a gallon of ice cream, and one hellacious, ugly cry.
“Thanks for your concern. Thanks for everything.” I hugged her and went into my office.
Despite my best intentions, mostly I stared out the window and wiped at tears. I was considering packing it in and going home, when Megan buzzed me.
“Phillip Markham is here to see you. Are you available? He says it’s about the Richter case.”
Oh crap. Why today?
This was the big case I’d hoped to settle. It would better serve my client to avoid a trial, so I couldn’t refuse to see Phillip. “Give me a minute,” I said.
In my private restroom, I checked my appearance. My nose and eyes were red, the latter swollen to squinty slits, and blotches covered my ravaged skin. I looked like a pink-nosed puffer fish. I splashed water on my face, but all that succeeded in doing was wetting the front of my blouse. I pulled on a jacket, ran a brush through my hair, and said fuck it. With any luck, Phillip might mistake my crying jag for a horrible radiation accident.
Holding my head high, I exited my office.
Phillip stood in a military at-ease position, distinguished and professional in a perfectly tailored Armani suit. In his mid-fifties, he looked at least a decade younger, his face smooth and unlined. Only the graying at his temples and the slight feathering at his eyes hinted at his age.