The murder of the jack wasn’t a secret. It had hit all the news feeds, and scores of women had been gathered for questioning, most from Lipper U. There hadn’t been a surveillance photo released, but the fact that it was mostly Lipper girls was pretty darn indicative that there was some sort of evidence of her with the Firebird cozy out there.
The jack’s name was Gerile Fountainhead. He was 23 and a Navy vet who had been working for the company for only three months. A native of RKR, he left behind parents and a fiancé. Blah, blah, blah. Michi didn’t care. He was not a person to her, just a slab of cold meat.
That surprised her, when she was honest with herself. She had always considered herself to be kind and caring, a good person. But some of that inherent goodness had vanished at the rally. She wasn’t even sure she felt a twinge of remorse for killing the jack. For killing Gerile, she had to remind herself. He did have a name.
She turned back towards her parents, put on a melancholy face, then said, “I . . . I just have not been able to concentrate since Franz was killed. My mind is not working right. I think I need time.”
She saw her father’s face soften. Bingo! She was going to get out of this.
Then she noticed her mother’s eyes narrow. “And where have you been going every day, then?”
Michi wondered if she could bluff it out, then decided it was too likely that someone would have seen her, so she decided it was better to admit to something.
“I’ve been down at the WRP. They knew Franz, and they are working on getting the results of the investigation. I just feel better there.”
That seemed to put a stop to her father’s understanding.
“Michi, I hate to put my foot down, but you are going to have to stop going there. It was bad enough when you were dating Franz . . .”
“Not dating. We were engaged,” she muttered under her breath.
“. . . but what with everything that’s happened, you need to divorce yourself from that group.”
“But—”
“But nothing! I know you were all hot and bothered when your firebrand was up there, all moral-like. But his cause is not our cause. His fight is not our fight.”
“So you are going to ignore all the injustice that is going on?” she shouted at her father.
“Injustice? Is it injustice that Propitious Interstellar pays our bills? That they pay for this house? For yours and Yuzuki’s education? For that Sullivan you got for your birthday last year? Is that injustice?” he thundered back.
This was an old argument. Most of the First Families made their livelihoods in service or selling to Propitious Interstellar. Some people, especially from the Yamaguchis, went on to join the company itself in the management ranks. The First Families, comfortable in their lives, liked the status quo and were afraid of anything upsetting the apple cart.
“And the indentureds? What about them?” she asked.
“What about them? They signed contracts to escape whatever shite-hole they came from. The company is supposed to rescue them, then let them walk? That’s ridiculous, girl. And what are the Class Fours? Twenty-five percent of the workforce? Maybe 15 % of the planet’s population? No lassie, this is not our fight. And with all the attention on your rabble-rousing friends, we don’t need pressure being put on the family because your latest cause has you fomenting trouble.”
Michi just stared at her father, trying to form a response.
“Listen to him, Michi,” her mother said. “Think of the family. We do not need the attention, especially with contract renewals coming up.”
“You two just don’t get it, do you? All you think about is your bank accounts, and to get that, you bow down to the almighty Propitious Interstellar and let them stick it up your arses. There is such a thing as justice, as human rights, even if you’re too fat and happy to realize it,” she told her parents with conviction.
With that, she walked past her parents, opened the front door, and stormed off into the evening.
Chapter 5
Michi looked at Prosperity Square. This was the first time she’d been back since Franz had been killed. It looked different, peaceful, and that pissed her off. The stands were down and the trash gathered, as if the company thought they could simply clean away the fact that her fiancé had died at that spot.
People moved through the square, going about their business. Several were sitting on benches, eating their lunches or going online. Some just sat, eyes closed and faces up, enjoying the spring sun.
Was she the only person to be angry? Was she the only one who had taken any steps in revenge?
Even at the WRP, it seemed to be business as usual. Michi had just left the office. Cheri had expressed her regret, and it seemed real. Hokkam actually had tears in his eyes as he hugged her. He offered his support in anything she needed. But what he couldn’t offer was answers. The chapter was waiting for the company report on the incident.
As if that would be worth anything! The company would whitewash everything. Franz’ death would an “unfortunate accident" caused by the protestors themselves. No one would be held accountable.
Michi shook her head in disgust.
Her dance gear kit hung from her shoulder. She had intended to try to hit the studio, where she would normally go to work off the stress, but as she stood in the square, the mood just wasn’t in her. She sighed and walked over to one of the benches close to the spot where Franz had been killed. Nodding to the elderly lady sitting there sipping a tea, she sat down on the other end of the bench, facing the spot where the stage had been set up.
Right there, ten meters away, was the last spot where she had spoken with Franz, laughed with him, held his murdered body. She didn’t know if there was anything, any essence of him left there, but she closed her eyes and forgot about the world. If any part of Franz was still there, she hoped she could somehow sense him for one last goodbye.
Chapter 6
Michi had to park in the street in front of the house. She recognized Reverend Calhoun’s black Hyundai in the driveway and briefly wondered if her parents were getting another of their marriage “tune-ups,” as her mother called them.
As soon as she walked through the door, though, all thoughts of parental discord faded. Not only was Reverend Calhoun sitting on the couch, but the Right Reverend Duncan, the moderator for the Kakurega presbytery, was there as well. Both honored men were sitting, sipping tea, and looking straight at her. Her mother was sitting to their side, while her father was standing with his back toward her.
He slowly turned around, his face blank. Taking a step forward, he reached down to the coffee table and picked up the Jamison Michi had taken from the dead jack.
“And what is this?” he asked calmly.
Michi’s heart fell, and she almost stumbled.
“It’s mine. I bought it. For self protection,” she babbled.
“Self protection, lassie?” he asked as the other three looked on silently.
“Yes. There have been attacks on girls at school. Just last week, a girl was assaulted on the quad. I wanted protection, so I bought it.”
“And this?” he asked, using the muzzle of the Jamison to lift a piece of grey clothing.
Half of a red firebird could be seen as the cozy hung in the air.
“It’s a cozy, what of it?” she tried to bluster, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“A Tipper University cozy and a sidearm issued to the company security forces. You needed both of these to protect yourself?” he asked, his voice even-toned, sounding calm.
Michi tried to raise the fire of anger. “And you’re searching my things? How dare you!” she shouted.
“When it’s to protect the family, damn right I do, young lady. And when you endanger us all, I will!” he shouted, throwing the Jamison to the side where it crashed into the big stone fireplace.
“Now Malcom,” the Right Reverend said, standing up and taking a step toward him. “We spoke about this. Let’s hear what Michiko has to say, how she obtained these. It
might not be as you feert. We dinnae know all the facts, either with that sad story or with your lassie here.”
He turned to Michi and said, “Now Michiko, please, come sit here. Tell us what happened, child. Did this weapon belong to Mr. Fountainhead? Did he do something to you? Don’t be afraid, child. You can tell us.”
Michi stared at the Right Reverend. He had only just started his one-year term as moderator, but Michi knew him as a church elder. He always seemed like a nice, righteous man. For a moment, she almost gave in, almost rushed to the couch beside him to pour out her story. She had been keeping it bottled in, and now she realized it was gnawing at her, making her into something of a bitch. She wanted to get it all out in the open.
She actually took a step before her rage, her Scottish radge, came flowing back, filling her arteries, taking over again. The Right Reverend didn’t give a flying fuck for her. He was worried about fallout on the Clan and the rest of the First Families. He was hoping that the jack had assaulted her, that she had somehow killed the jack in self-defense.
“Yes, he assaulted me! Is that what you want to hear? He assaulted me, and I fucking killed him for that. And you know what? I’d do it again, I would!”
Michi knew that the jack, that Gerile Fountainhead had personally done no such thing. She was not that lost in her rage. But the jacks had assaulted her by taking her Franz. And Gerile was a jack. He’d probably been there that day at the rally. Maybe he’d taken the shot himself. That was good enough for her.
She was not going to sit there and kowtow to her parents, to the church leaders. She was not going to apologize. At least she had the balls to do something about injustice, and she was not going to meekly try to deny the righteousness of her actions.
She spun around, too incensed to speak and bolted for the door.
“If you leave now, dinnae come back!” her father shouted out as she ran outside.
Michi hit the unlock for the Sullivan, but the door would not open. She tried it again, but the door remained locked. Turning back, she couldn’t see anyone. But she knew they were watching, and they had disabled her hover.
She leveled a kick that did nothing to the hover’s side panel, then stalked around it to head into town. One thing was now obvious: she was on her own.
Chapter 7
“Cheri,” Michi whispered into her PA.
She breathed a sigh of relief as the number connected. At least her parents hadn’t cut off her comms, too.
“Yeah, Michi,” Cheri’s voice came over the line. “What’s up?”
“I’m sort of in a bind here. My folks kicked me out of the house,” she told Cheri, the fact that it was she that had stormed out by choice glossed over. “Can you put me up for a few days?”
There was dead silence on the other end of the line, then a hesitant, “Oh, Michi-girl, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. We’re under pretty heavy surveillance now, what with all the recent troubles, and you’re still pretty clean of all the dirt. I think you staying with me now could cause some complications. You’re sure you were kicked out? Your dad’s just not angry for the moment?”
“No, I think it’s permanent. He told me never to come back.”
“What did you do? I’ve never met him, but Franz seemed to think he was pretty even-tempered, even if a bit conservative.”
“Oh, it’s a long story, but really, Cheri, I need someplace. I’m willing to take any heat that comes along with it,” Michi said.
“It’s not just you, Michi. Me, too. I’ve got to keep my nose clean. Bringing in the fiancé of Franz sends a pretty powerful message, one I’m really not anxious to send right now. They are still making random arrests over the jack murder, and I don’t want to draw any more attention to me.”
That took Michi aback. She and Cheri had gotten close over the last few weeks, and she had fully expected being able to crash at her place until she figured things out.
“You really have no place to go?” Cheri asked her.
“No place. Nada,” she answered.
“OK, wait for a few minutes. I have an idea, but I need to check first. I’ll call you back in five.”
Michi broke the connection, none too pleased that the call hadn’t gone as expected. She was in front of a Seven, so she went in to grab a Coke. It wasn’t until she started to walk out that she wondered if her credit had been cut off as well. However, no alarms sounded as she walked through the sensors. The familiar buzz of a transaction relieved her. She pulled out her PA and checked.
Well, it wasn’t totally normal. Michi had been on the family line of credit, able to charge pretty much whatever she wanted. Now, she had been shunted aside to a personal line with a limit of 50 credits per month. She knew that many people managed to survive on that, but she wasn’t sure how they did it.
Her PA chimed as she took a swallow of the Coke, and she snorted out a stream of the drink as she grabbed the PA and opened the call.
“Michi, I’ve got a place for you. Do you know the Brown Bean on Gasperson?”
“Yeah, I know it.”
“OK, I want you to go there. First, let me see what you’ve got on,” she said.
Michi held out her PA and tilted it up and down so Cheri could see her.
“OK, fine. I see what you’re wearing. Go to the Brown Bean, order a latte, and sit wherever you can. Someone in an orange jumpsuit will come and sit with you. If you both hit it off, you can shack up with her for awhile.”
“What’s with all the secret agent stuff? You’re not coming?”
“No. We’ve got five jacks sitting outside right now. Hell, they’ve probably broken the scramble on this call, but no use making it any easier for them. Better you go alone without me. Let me know what happens, though.”
Michi was still a little miffed. She had expected Cheri to welcome her with open arms. Instead, she was being sent to meet someone whose name she didn’t even know. But beggars not being choosers and all, as the old saying went. She drained the Coke, threw the can in the bin, and started the walk to Gasperson.
Twenty minutes later, she walked in the door of the Brown Bean, the aromas assaulting her nose. She wondered if she really had to get a latte, but taking no chances, she placed her order. She grimaced at the 1.2 credit charge. That would never have fazed her before, but now, she knew she had to make some adjustments, at least until she could get her full credit line restored.
There was no one in an orange jumpsuit, so she found an empty table by the front window and settled in to wait. It was almost another 20 minutes before Miss Jumpsuit arrived. Orange was an understatement. It had multiple shades of orange and even some reds that somehow revolved around themselves along her arms and legs, giving the impression of fire. This girl was only 1.4 or 1.5 meters tall, and she couldn’t have weighed more than 40 kg, but she was obviously not afraid to make a fashion statement. She got in line and ordered her drink, then looked around as if trying to find a seat.
She slowly made her way to Michi, pointed at the empty seat, and asked, “This seat taken?”
“Please,” Michi said, trying to act nonchalant.
The girl took a sip, and without looking at Michi, said, “Baggy yellow sweats, an old faded grey cozy, ratty blue jump-ups. You must be Michiko. I’m Tamara, and Cheri tells me I need to give you a place to stay. So, we might as well get at it.”
She stood up and stared at Michi, her brilliant blue eyes barely above Michi’s sitting eye level.
“Well, you coming?”
Michi didn’t know what else to do, so she got up and followed Miss Jumpsuit, Tamara, out of the Brown Bean.
Chapter 8
“That’s just not good enough,” Michi said in exasperation.
“Calm down, Michi,” Cheri told her. “We really are working on this.”
“It seems to me that you’re just sitting here waiting for the company to make its final report.”
“Michiko, I want to assure you that we are doing all we can,” Hokkam said.
>
Yeah, like you told Franz to instigate a strike, she thought.
“I loved Franz as a son, and I’m devastated about what happened. Every word I said at his funeral was true, and I will not rest until we uncover the truth. But you don’t know how the game is played—”
“I can assure you that this is not a game,” Michi snapped.
“No, of course not. Sorry, poor choice of words. What I mean is that you don’t know how we deal with the company or the city offices. We can’t just bull in. It takes finesse. We’ve already filed a protest with the city. We had a valid permit, so technically, the jacks had to protect us, and they didn’t. So, we will have a legal argument, but we have to wait first for the initial report. Once we see it, Su will go over it with a fine-tooth comb so we can choose our next course of action.”
Tian Su was the chapter advocate and a member of the board. By reputation alone, Michi knew that if there was a legal opening that could be exploited, Su would find it.
“So you see, we are working on it. Please have some patience. Things are heating up, and if it looks like we’re addressing those other issues right now, rest assured that we have not forgotten Franz. How could we?” Cheri asked.
Michi looked over at Rosario Del Mare, the chapter security chief. He was an easy person to blame as he was in charge of keeping the protestors safe. Rosario seemed to sense her blame, and his defenses were up. He hadn’t said a word during the meeting but rather glared at her.
Kuso kurae, ye boaby, she thought, combining curse words from both sides of the family tree for greater effect. If you would’ve done your job, my Franz would still be here, so take your glare and up your arse with it.
She looked at the three chapter board members. They were cowards, all of them, professing to fight for justice, but afraid of the big, bad company. She was going to get nothing done here. If she wanted vengeance—more vengeance, that is—it would be up to her.
She stood up, cutting the meeting short. She almost sat right back down when all three let their relief show on their faces, but she realized that would do absolutely nothing. Cheri and Hokkam kissed her cheek goodbye, and Michi turned and stalked out of the office.
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