by R S Penney
“What makes this case different?”
Harry braced both hands against the wall, his head hanging. “Most criminals don't have the ability to make people hallucinate,” he said. “You are far more dangerous than the average suspect.”
“Ah,” Raynar said softly. “So this is about who I am.”
Nothing would have pleased Harry more than to shut down that line of reasoning; he opened his mouth to do just that, only to realize that he had nothing to say. No clever counterargument that would put this all in perspective.
After what Keli had done, taking precautions was only sensible, and they had no way of knowing the limits of Raynar's abilities. The boy claimed that he wasn't nearly as strong as Keli, but there was no way to know for sure. On the other hand…He'd spent a large chunk of his career arguing against racial profiling. Was this any different?
Well…
Yes, it was.
Unlike the arbitrary construct of race, there were actual physiological differences between telepaths and other human beings. Harry was still unsure whether or not that should matter. Shouldn't due process be the same for everyone?
He left the cell with the taste of bile in his mouth, unable to force those questions from his mind. If they didn't find something solid one way or another, he wasn't sure what he would do.
He found Jena standing in the cell-block with her arms crossed, staring down at her shoes. “Nothing of substance yet?” she asked, looking up as he drew near. “No clue as to what Keli might be planning?”
Harry shut his eyes tight, trembling for a moment. “I'm afraid not,” he said, falling in step beside her as they made their way down the corridor. “The kid insists that he had nothing to do with it.”
The tight frown on Jena's face told him that she was skeptical. “And you believe him?” she asked, glancing in his direction. “You think he's telling the truth when he says Keli acted alone?”
“Whether or not I believe him is irrelevant,” Harry insisted. “The fact of the matter is, we don't have a shred of evidence to prove he was involved. How long can the Keepers hold someone without charging him?”
“Three days.”
Harry whistled, turning his head so that she wouldn't see his expression. “That's not a lot of time for a case like this,” he mumbled. “If we can't come up with something solid, we're going to have to let him go.”
He'd been dating Jena for several months now, and he was reasonably sure that he knew her well enough to predict how she would react to most situations. But every now and then, she threw a monkey-wrench into the works.
She put herself in front of him with fists clenched, her face tight with anxiety. “Let him go where?” she replied. “Down to the planet? Or do you want to give him free reign to move about the station?”
“It's not about what I want,” he said softly. “You can't just hold someone without evidence of a crime.”
“There was a crime.”
“Not one that we can pin on Raynar.” Pressing a fist to his mouth, Harry cleared his throat. “Unless we find something that can implicate him in what Keli did, we simply can't hold him.”
Jena whirled around, turning her back on him and making her way toward the door at the end of the cell-block. “I'm the one who brought those two here,” she said. “I did it because I wasn't willing to let them rot in a cell.”
“And you've changed your mind?”
“No,” she said. “But Keli burned us.” She stopped short of the door, her shoulders slumping as she heaved out a deep breath. “We were lucky. One Keeper got away with a few emotional scars. Someone might have died. I'm not going to be responsible for any of our people getting hurt, and I don't care if that means breaking some rules.”
He wasn't sure how to respond to that.
Outside the cell-block, they found a slightly wider gray hallway with doors spaced at even intervals. Jena strode forward with fists balled at her sides, muttering under her breath the whole time. “One other thing.”
“Hmm?”
“Is it true that Aamani Patel came to you with a proposal?” she asked. “Something about my people protecting this planet without setting foot on it?”
Harry threw his head back, covering his face with one hand. He groaned, then let his arm drop. “Yeah, she brought that up last week,” he said. “With all the commotion, it slipped my mind.”
“Next time, bring that sort of thing to me.”
He froze.
Glancing over her shoulder, Jena studied him through narrowed eyes. “If you want to be my liaison,” she said. “You have to actually liaise. I don't like having to hear these things from Patel herself.”
“I figured there was no way you'd even consider the proposal.”
“And you figured right,” Jena said, starting down the corridor at a pace that could put most joggers to shame. It was one of the many unpleasant reminders of the difference between Justice Keepers and normal human beings. Harry hadn't felt quite so vigorous in many long years. “But I need to be the one to make that decision. Your job is to keep me informed about what your government is thinking.”
“Yes…You're right.”
“Good,” she said. “Now, let's check in with Lenai.”
The small observation room that looked into Leo's cell was vacant as usual. No one wanted to endure the man's company any more than absolutely necessary. Jack wondered if that made him a masochist.
Through the window, he saw Leo sitting in an easy chair with a book held in front of his face. The man seemed perfectly relaxed, at ease with himself. Ninety percent of the time, Jack found himself agreeing with Leyrian policy – harsh prisons did not produce reformed prisoners – but a scumbag like Leo…That was another story.
The man flung his book away.
He leaned back in his chair with fingers laced behind his head, smiling up at the ceiling. “Come to check on me, Jack?” he inquired. “I should think you'd be much more interested in my two new neighbours.”
“What do you know about that?” Jack asked, moving closer to the window. “Don't suppose you'd like to tell me who exactly has been feeding you all this information?”
Until now, Jack had assumed that Slade was the culprit, but the man hadn't set foot on this station in three days, and there was no way he could have made contact with Leo. So, there was another informant. He filed that away in the back of his mind. I'll have to tell Jena later.
Leo stood up, stretching like a man who had just climbed out of bed. “Two more Amps users,” he said, stumbling forward. Without the drug, his sense of balance would be impaired. “I wonder if I should worry about my supply.”
He shuffled forward on shaky legs, pausing at the small wooden table next to his bed. “But I suppose you'll simply manufacture more of the drug,” he said. “You Leyrians can't ever make the practical choice.”
Biting his lower lip, Jack squinted at the other man. “You know, I just can't figure you out,” he said, shaking his head. “If someone really is feeding you information, why flaunt it? It'll only make us crack down on security.”
Leo stood with his arms crossed, smiling down at himself. “You really don't get it,” he said, turning away from the window. “But that's all right. I think I'll leave you to chew on that little nugget.”
Chewing on it only left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He had mentioned his concerns to the wardens, and they had taken up the practice of monitoring Leo's cell all day and all night. The man received no visitors; scanners revealed no incoming signals. There was no way he could know all this short of reading minds.
Jack froze.
Reading minds?
But that was impossible; Leo had displayed his strange clairvoyance long before Keli and Raynar had set foot on this station. There had to be some other explanation for the man's ability to keep tabs on the outside world. Could Leo be a telepath? No…If he was, he'd have used those skills against me.
The other man kept his back turned, facing the wall on the far side of
his cell. “You know, Jack,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I'm going to get out of here, and then you and I are going to revisit some old grievances.”
Jack looked up at the ceiling, blinking a few times. “So you keep telling me.” He dropped into the chair in front of the window. “And yet here we are, months later, with you still in prison.”
“We'll see.”
“I'm sure we will.”
Leo turned partway, glancing over his shoulder with confusion plain on his face. “Why do you keep doing it?” he wondered aloud. “Why keep visiting me? Surely you know I don't have anything useful to say.”
“Keeping track of loose ends,” Jack answered. “I'm the one who brought you in; that makes me responsible.”
“A flaw in your moral code.”
Doubling up with his arms folded, Jack frowned into his own lap. “I'm sure you believe that,” he muttered under his breath. “But the truth is, Leo, I've lost the ability to hate you…to mock you or taunt you.”
His opponent – they were still sparring, even now – actually shivered. It seemed he had struck a nerve with that last bit. “It's not your fault, Leo,” Jack went on. “You're nothing more than what life made you: a bitter, hate-filled, sad excuse for a human being. All of that rage inside you. This is where it took you. So when I say that I'm responsible, I don't just mean I'm responsible for what you do. I'm responsible for what happens to you.”
Leo screamed.
He charged the window – nearly tripping over his own feet – then drew back his arm and punched the glass. Of course, that accomplished nothing other than to make him fall to his knees and cradle his aching hand. “You're responsible for me?” he shrieked. “I am not a victim! I am not a victim! I am not like you…Don't you dare pity me, Jack. I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!”
Closing his eyes, Jack felt hot tears on his cheeks. “And that's why I pity you,” he whispered. “If you had grown up with love and kindness, maybe you'd be standing out here beside me.”
The man continued to rage for a little while.
Jack let him.
Ben exhaled and watched his breath mist in the cold winter air, the wind blowing it back against him. “Insane,” he muttered. “Why anyone would live this far north of the Equator…”
Though the sun was high in the clear blue sky, sidewalks of this busy downtown street were covered with ice. Cars rolled along in the slush, and frost had formed on the windows of buildings.
Darrel walked in front of him with the determined stride you could only find in a police officer, refusing to look back. Ten minutes of this, and Ben was already tired of looking at the back of his boyfriend's head. “So are we going to talk about it?” he asked.
Darrel froze.
He turned partway, glancing over his shoulder. “Talk about what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I just want to get the stuff we need for New Years and get home before I die from frostbite.”
“You've been agitated for the last few days,” Ben murmured. “Ever since I found your family's Christmas card on the kitchen table. Why didn't you visit your parents?”
“You don't need to worry about that.”
“And you do?”
In response, the other man turned his back and started up the sidewalk once again, muttering under his breath the whole way. Well, this bullshit was going to get really old really fast. Something Ben had noticed after moving to this pathetic spitball of a planet: the men here were all emotionally stunted.
It didn't matter if they were gay, straight or anywhere in between; if you were from Earth, and you had a Y-chromosome, your solution to any emotional problem would be “La-la! La-la! La! I see nothing!”
Ben folded his arms, shivering as he followed the other man. He kept his eyes fixed on the sidewalk. “So you're just going to ignore it?” he inquired. “Obviously something is bothering you, but you're going to pretend you're fine?”
Darrel turned around, walking backwards. The flush of colour in his cheeks told Ben he might have hit a nerve. “There's nothing to talk about. It's just a stupid card, and I hate Christmas. I've always hated Christmas.”
“Bright, colourful decorations are so depressing.”
Darrel ignored that.
It took some exertion – there were times when Ben hated being the short one in a relationship – but he managed to fall in step beside his boyfriend. “What makes you hate Christmas so much?”
Baring his teeth, Darrel covered his face with one hand. “It's nothing,” he muttered under his breath. “I would just prefer it if I didn't have to spend six awkward hours with my family every December.”
“Why's that?”
“Because I can't bring you.” Darrel glanced over his shoulder with a tight frown, his brows drawn together. “My parents are pretty old school. They wouldn't approve of my dating another man.”
Licking his lips, Ben stared down at the ground. “I see,” he mumbled, instinctively falling back to put some distance between them. “That must be a very difficult situation to live with.”
Darrel rounded on him like an angry lion. There were times when the other man displayed just a little too much aggression. No doubt it was habit after nearly a decade as a police officer. “It's not my fault,” he insisted.
“I know.”
“Then why do I feel like you're judging me?”
Ben hesitated before answering. How exactly should he put this into words? There were times when he hated living among these…Well, he really didn't want to use the word 'savages' but nothing better came to mind.
Once upon a time, his people had demonized homosexuality, but like any civilized culture, they had moved past such childish superstition. Ben had discovered his attraction to other men in his teenage years. Revealing those feelings to his parents had earned him a hug and praise for his honesty.
Had he grown up on this backward little dust ball, he might have been driven to suicide. The words were there, but he couldn't bring himself to say them. Darrel was not responsible for his parents' bigotry.
Lifting his chin, Ben fixed his gaze on the other man. He narrowed his eyes to slits. “I don't blame you for the failings of your parents.” Getting those words out proved to be difficult. “I just hate that you have to live in these circumstances.”
“Believe me, I hate it more.”
Ben stepped forward, slipping his arms around Darrel's waist. He buried his nose in his Darrel's chest. “No matter what happens,” he murmured. “I'm going to be here for you. We don't have to visit your family if you don't want to.”
Darrel grimaced, tears leaking from his eyes to roll over his cheeks. “Thank you,” he said, trembling. “To be honest, I'd rather just spent the holidays with you. We could invite some of your Justice Keeper buddies to New Year's.”
“We could,” Ben said. “And maybe some of your colleagues?”
Darrel hesitated.
Craning his neck to meet the other man's gaze, Ben blinked a few times. “The same problem, huh?” he asked, pulling out of the other man's embrace. “I'm betting you're not exactly honest with the other cops.”
Darrel was as red as a dying star, his cheeks glistening with moisture. “It's a bit of a boy's club,” he said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “There's a whole world of difference between cops and Keepers.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well some of them join the force because they honestly want to make the world a better place.” Darrel backed away from him with arms crossed, shuddering from the cold. Or possibly from the subject matter. “And some join up because they want a place to vent their aggression.”
Ben paused for a moment to consider that. Darrel's frustration made all kinds of sense to him. His country may have legalized marriage between two men, but that didn't mean Darrel was free to pursue any relationship without fear of reprisal. Or rejection.
All that anger faded to be replaced with sympathy and concern. “Come on,” Ben said, taki
ng his hand. “Let's go get those supplies.”
Chapter 24
As he peered over the railing, Jack saw a forest of skyscrapers stretching on to a sandy beach where crystal blue waters lapped at the shore. To be so high that he could see the tops of such buildings was a truly dizzying experience.
Behind him, the tall statue of Christ the Redeemer stood with its arms spread wide, watching over the city like a silent protector. He had always wanted to visit Rio, but even with SlipGates, he had never quite gotten around to it. It was about time that he changed that. They would have a few hours at least until they made their next move. More than enough time for a little sightseeing.
Jack leaned over the chest-high stone wall with his arms crossed, peering into the distance below. If he were truly serious about living the tourist experience, he would probably have to actually move about in this city. For now, however, he was content where he was.
In his mind's eye, he saw the silhouette of Gabi Valtez approach from behind, His brain filled in colour, painting her skin its lovely shade of sun-kissed bronze and her hair as midnight black. Her dress was something he had never seen before, and so it hovered as a kind of misty fog.
She stepped up beside him, smiling as she took in the view. “As potential meeting places go,” she began, “this one is far, far superior to your home city. Bright sunlight and cool breezes.”
“I'm glad you like it.”
She leaned against the wall with the wind whipping at her hair, sending it flying out in thin tendrils. The dress was light blue; he saw that now. “So is there a particular reason for your call? Or were you just looking for some company?”
“I wish to avail myself of your services.”
Covering a smile with the back of her hand, she shut her eyes and bowed her head to him. “I see,” she murmured. “Not the most romantic way to tell a woman you find her irresistible, but I suppose amateurs should be allowed a few mistakes.”
What on Earth was she-
Oh, dear god in heaven! She thought he was taking her up on the offer to have sex! Just thinking about it left him with a flush that could melt the polar ice caps. Not the sex – he'd given serious thought to that – but the fact that referring to it as “her services” was beyond crass. Only a creepy douchebag would say something like that. The kind of guy who leered at women on the subway.