Law of Survival

by Kristine Smith

Then a glint of gold on the major’s collar caught her eye. Augie liked flashes of light, and the overhead illumination playing off the woman’s rank designators drew his attention. Bursts of gold from the oak leaves, and from the twin letter I’s. “Intelligence?” Jani heard her voice like a shout, but no one flinched so she knew she couldn’t have spoken that loudly. “When did you horn in on this?”

  The major drew up as tall as she could, which meant that she hit Jani at shoulder height. The disadvantage seemed to bother her. She reversed another half-step and bumped into Pullman, who looked like he wanted to toss her back. “Since the case involves intersystem flight of colonials, it’s standard practice for us to be included.”

  “No, it’s not.” Jani put a handlock on Niall’s elbow and pulled him out of the circle and partway down the hall. “Why were they doing the tracking? You said your people were handling it.”

  “That’s one of the things I’m trying to find out.” Niall’s face reddened with anger, embarrassment, or a combination of both.

  Jani glanced back at the major, who was engaged in intense conversation with the dressy captain. “I’m taking them out of here. My folks. I’m taking them out.”

  “What?” Niall circled in front of her, blocking her view. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said Intelligence helped compile the information in the white paper. That means they delineated the corruption in the Channel Worlds, then and now. They knew what the conditions were on Acadia. They knew better than any of you the risks my parents faced, and still they almost lost them at MarsPort.” Jani stepped out to the side so she could watch the major, and found the major watching her as well. “Now you expect me to leave my parents here under their care?”

  “Not under their care.” Niall bent close. “I’m in charge.”

  “You may be in charge, Niall, but you’re not in control. For every door you slam shut, they’ll find two more.”

  “Are you saying you don’t trust me? Is that what you’re saying!”

  “I trust you, Niall, but you’re not the entire Service. You and Pull can’t oversee everything. You can’t vet everything. You can’t see inside their heads.”

  “What?” Niall’s brow drew down. “You think Intelligence screwed up on purpose?”

  “They give L’araignée my folks now, L’araignée gives them something later. A crooked colonial governor. A bent general.” A thought lasered through Jani’s augie-cleared mind, like the reflection off the major’s designators. “Your Guernsey buddy wouldn’t happen to be Intelligence, would he?”

  Niall grew still, his breathing irregular. He believed in his Service—its discipline and rigor had helped him pull himself from the Victorian gutter. He believed in his friends, too. “That’s coincidence. Corin’s different—I’ve known him for twenty years.”

  “I’m hearing that, from you of all people. There’s no such thing as coincidence, Niall. You start believing in coincidence, you’re dead!” Jani headed back down the hall toward the group, which had fractured into Pullman and the lieutenant on one side and the major and the captain on the other. She beckoned to Pullman, who hurried to her side. “I need a skimmer from the vehicle pool. A four-seater. Not the one they want to give you, but one you pick out yourself. Have it at the far-northwest automatic entry in fifteen minutes.”

  “Ma’am?” Pullman looked at Niall, who had dogged Jani’s steps. “Sir, I thought—”

  “Do it, Pull.” Niall spoke with Declan Kilian’s voice, drained and old.

  Jani waited for Pullman to leave before speaking. “I’m sorry, Niall. But sometimes it’s hardest to see what’s closest to you.” She turned her back so she wouldn’t have to look at his face, and palmed into her parents’ room.

  “Papa? Maman?” She looked to the couch, and found it empty. The chairs. The bench seat by the shielded window. “Papa!” She stalked a quick circuit of the room, looking for an entry she had somehow missed the first time. Her heart slowed, then tripped, then slowed again. “Maman! Pap—!”

  “Why you be shouting, Jani-girl?” Declan stuck his head through a gap between two panels in the far wall. “We’re in the lave. Your mother tried to eat some of your chicken.”

  “Oh, shit!” Jani dodged around furniture and into the tiny bath to find Jamira bent over the sink, cupping water repeatedly over her mouth and chin. “Maman, I told you in all the Mistys that I eat strange food!”

  “You did not say that you ate fire, Janila.” Her mother straightened slowly. Her eyes teared as though she wept. Her nose and mouth had reddened and swelled. “Is that what Dr. Shroud did to you?”

  Jani felt the strength of her mother’s eyes, even through their mirrored reflection. “He did the best he could.”

  “Did he?” Jamira coughed, then tore a dispo towel from the sinkside dispenser and dried her mouth.

  Declan looked from his wife to his daughter, as he had so often in the house on Rue D’Aubergine when he felt the drag of the undercurrent but couldn’t decide which way the harbor. “You were calling us, Jani-girl?”

  “Oui, Papa.” Jani tore away from the sharp brown examination. “We’re leaving.”

  “But we’ve just arrived.”

  “I have another place in mind. Where’s your luggage?”

  “The young major took charge of it at O’Hare, Janila.” Jamira’s eyes had stopped running, but she had to keep pausing to cough and blow her nose. “She said it would be brought to us after our talk with you.”

  “You have to leave that stuff here. Anything you need, I’ll buy you.”

  “I packed equipment, Jani-girl.” Declan nodded toward Jamira. “Your mother brought family things. And your dowry.”

  “You lugged fifteen kilos of jewelry?” Jani pressed her fingers to her tightening scalp. “It will be safe here. I just want Niall to check everything first.” She waited for them to leave the bath ahead of her. Her father walked out right away, but her mother stopped to pull a handful of dispos from the dispenser and tuck them up her sleeves.

  “Where are you taking us?” she asked, concentrating on her tissues.

  Jani hesitated. “To—to someone I trust.”

  “To someone you trust. You do not trust Fort Sheridan, or the whole of the Service, or your scarred colonel. Yet there is someone.” Jamira Shah tugged down her sleeves and walked to the door. “I must meet this person, Janila.” She swept out, leaving behind a trail of softest scent.

  By the time Jani returned to the hallway, all the uniforms had departed. Niall stood against the wall, unlit ’stick cupped in his hand. His eyes softened when he looked at her parents. Unfortunately, they chilled when they focused on her.

  “Pull went to get the skimmer. Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or do I have to guess?”

  Jani told him.

  And when he turned red and threatened to stop her, she told him again.

  CHAPTER 21

  Pullman proved his worth and wit by obtaining a skimmer equipped with an ultra-secured comline. Jani made one carefully worded call as the night scenery whipped past and offered the occasional bracing smile to her parents, who sat in hand-holding silence in the rear.

  Niall didn’t speak much, either. The efforts Jani made to draw him out by asking specific questions about timing and transfers elicited terse replies spoken around one nicstick after the other. By the time they reached Chicago, the skimmer cabin looked as though a smoke bomb had detonated. Jani hunted down the ventilator switch, but even though the influx of fresh air soon cleared the space, the damage had been done. Her eyes stung. Her films felt tight. Don’t let them break now. That wasn’t how she wanted her folks to find out how far down the hybridization path John Shroud had taken her. Judging from her mother’s still-inflamed mouth and focused glare, the encounter with Jani’s version of pleasantly spicy had been telling enough.

  Niall turned off the Boul and steered them up and down midtown side streets before turning onto a short alley that was blocked at the e
nd by a five-meter-high fence. The skimmer headlamps illuminated the security guard that opened the gate and waved them through, along with the trademark name that studded the top of the gate in letters half a meter high.

  “Neoclona, Janila?” Her mother touched her shoulder. “Why did you bring us here?”

  Jani ignored Niall’s grumble. “They’re private, Maman. Outside official channels.” Val’s words returned to her. “They’re not as accountable, so they can do as I ask without needing to explain to anyone.”

  They turned sharply, then drove down the same wide utility road that Jani had walked the previous night. The road was as deserted now as it had been then, except for the lone figure standing in front of the water treatment station, his silver sport skimmer hovering alongside.

  Niall slowed to a stop, reset the vehicle charge-through to “standby,” and popped the gullwings. He alit from the skimmer and scanned the roofs of buildings, the sky overhead, on the lookout for holes in Neoclona security.

  Before Jani could get out, Val hurried to her side and offered his arm. “Excuse the attire.” He tugged at the neck of his stretched-out pullover. “I was having a quiet night at home when Security forwarded your call.”

  “So they’re the only ones who know you’re here?” Niall called out as he scanned an adjoining alley. “I trust they know how to keep their mouths shut.”

  “Yes, Colonel.” Val looked at Jani, brows arched.

  “Cautious.” Jani let him help her out. Her back ached in earnest and a knifeprick of pain stabbed behind her right kneecap every time she flexed it. “I decided to take you up on your offer.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Val slipped behind her and slid the seat forward. “Sir. Ma’am.” He helped Declan and Jamira alight, then stood back, an over-wide smile frozen in place.

  Well, well. Jani bit her lip to keep from grinning. Like Val angry, Val nervous was a rare event, worthy of note. “Maman. Papa. This is Dr. Valentin Parini. You received messages from him this summer, when I was sick. You’ll be staying with him for the next few days.”

  Val and Declan muttered greetings and shook hands, then broke apart in that trailing way of men who had nothing to say to one another besides “Hello.” The Parini charm worked a little better on Jamira, who lost some of her tension in the shelter of his quiet concern.

  “I live in a building near the lake. I’ve got the entire top floor—you’ll have your own wing.” Val nodded toward Jani. “Jan said you had to leave your things behind at the base—some of the best shops in the city are within walking distance—”

  “They can’t leave the flat, Val,” Jani broke in. “Not until Niall or I give a personal OK.”

  “Then I will send someone to get you anything you need.” Val smiled gamely. “Clothes. Books. Anything.”

  Jani groaned quietly as the word books rang the memory bell. Had Roni McGaw given up on her yet, or did she still wait for her in front of the bookstore? Her mind spun in tight conspiracy circles—did Roni know Niall would be coming for her? Did she have any knowledge of Service Intelligence’s double-dealing? Had she contacted her in order to warn her, or to get her out of the way?

  “Heads up.”

  Jani turned to find Niall standing next to their skimmer, his attention focused up the road.

  Jani followed his gaze, and saw the growing headlamps of a rapidly approaching skimmer. It’s not going to be able to stop. Judging from the rate at which the headlamps increased in size, the only thing that would bring it to a halt would be the side of a building. Or their skimmer.

  “Get into that doorway!” Niall shouted. “Now!”

  “No!” Val knew enough to approach Niall around the back. “I think I know who that is!”

  “Thinking’s not good enough, Parini.” Niall reached to his belt and came up with his shooter. “You said no one knew you were here!”

  Jani grabbed her mother’s arm and herded her toward the doorway of the treatment plant. Jamira reached for Declan, and they daisy-chained into the sheltering dark.

  “Janila, what is happening!”

  “I don’t know, Maman!” Jani swore under her breath, her hand aching for a weapon. She watched in helpless rage as the skimmer kept coming. Closer. Closer. “Niall!”

  Niall ignored her. He raised his weapon.

  Sighted down.

  Fired.

  The pulse packet impacted the driver’s-side bumper, forcing the skimmer offcourse. Proximity alarms screamed. The vehicle spun halfway around in one direction, then another, as the driver and the balance arrays fought to keep it from careening into a building. The whine of reversing directionals joined the alarms in a night-splitting howl as the skimmer shuddered to a halt a scant few meters from Niall, who closed in, weapon raised. “Get out of the vehicle! Now! Hands above your head!”

  “It’s John, goddamn it!” Val circled to Niall’s side, reached for his arm, and barely ducked his fist. “Put that goddamned thing down!”

  Lights flashed around the corner. Emergency vehicles. Guards on foot, weapons drawn.

  Jani shook off her mother’s restraining grip and ran into the road, her knee threatening to buckle with every stride. “Niall, stand down!”

  The driver’s side gullwing of the damaged skimmer swept up. The telltale white head emerged.

  “That was really stupid, John!” Val waved back the Neoclona guards. They obeyed grudgingly, glaring at Niall as though they wanted to toss him in the back of a security van and drop him on his head a few times on the way.

  Niall slowly lowered his weapon. “I disagree with your friend, Dr. Shroud. Stupid doesn’t even get it started!”

  John struggled out of the skimmer. “What the hell are you trying to do!” He looked from his blistered bumper to the guards, then to Niall. His face slackened as the realization of what might have happened punched through his anger. He raised a hand to his mouth, and stared at the charred bumper.

  “Janila?” Jani’s mother came up behind her and tugged on her jacket. “Is that your Dr. Shroud?”

  “Maman, how many other one-nine albinos do you think are out there?”

  John grew still as the sight of Jani broke through his angry daze. Then he saw Jamira, and his hand dropped to his side. “Val. You should have called me directly.”

  Val aimed the same look at John that the guards had toward Niall. “I left a message,” he said flatly. “You told me specifically that you didn’t want to hear any more about Ja—”

  “You should have called me directly.” John undid the closure of his evening suit jacket and slid a hand in his pocket. In the next breath, he removed his hand from his pocket and refastened the closure. He’d chosen one of his more striking outfits, dark ivory and rigorously tailored.

  Wonder what color he filmed his eyes? Jani ran down the list she had compiled over the summer. Light brown wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. Gold or pearl would earn her the parental fish-eye she’d won as a youngster whenever she brought a particularly unsuitable friend home to visit. “Dr. John Shroud.” She reached behind her and beckoned. “My parents, Declan Kilian and Jamira Shah.”

  John had recovered his composure by the time Jani finished her introduction, and stepped forward with the easy assurance of a man who walked on his own land. The light from a safety illumin fell across his face, highlighting amber-brown eyefilming that looked distinctive but not bizarre.

  “Père Kilian. Mère Kilian.” The polite Acadian titles and throaty French R’s flowed, as though he’d been practicing. “I am at your service.” He shook Declan’s hand, then drew a collective gasp of surprise by bending over Jamira’s and applying a haute formal not-quite-kiss on her knuckles.

  “Dr. Shroud.” Jamira reclaimed her hand with a cool smile. “So much kindness after such a raucous welcome.”

  “It’s not kindness, Mère Kilian. It’s a joy.”

  “Is it? Well, then, I should take advantage while I can, should I not?”

  John’s eyes sparked. He could re
ek charisma under the right circumstances, and the opportunity to bestow brought out the gallant in him. “You could never take advantage, Mère Kilian. Anything I have is yours.” His deep bass flowed like warmed molasses. “You have but to ask.”

  “Really?” Jamira’s brow arched. “Anything?”

  Jani leaned against the treatment facility wall and pressed fingertips to forehead. Twenty years had passed since she’d heard that questioning flick at the end of a word. Like the approaching skimmer headlamps, she realized what was happening, but knew she risked a good bashing if she tried to step in and stop it. She glanced at her father, who widened his eyes and looked at the ground.

  “Anything, Mère Kilian.” John’s sugar synthesizer was running at full capacity now. “Name it.”

  Jamira patted her palms together in almost-silent clapping, her “decisions, decisions” gesture. Then it stopped, and her face lit. “I should like Luna, Dr. Shroud. Your moon. In a gift box. With a large red bow.”

  “Then you shall have it, Mère Kilian.” John crossed his arm over his chest and bowed deeply, then straightened and spread his arm wide.

  “So readily you promise me the moon, Dr. Shroud. Like a god.” The lightness had left Jamira’s voice. She looked pointedly at Jani, then back to John. “Who made you a god, Doctor? Who allowed you the right to promise what isn’t yours to give?”

  John froze in mid-flourish, his self-satisfied smile ebbing. Val mouthed an “ouch.” Niall grinned for the first time since they left Sheridan.

  Jamira brushed past John, eyes averted, and walked up the road toward Val’s silver skimmer.

  “We need to get going, folks. Our little noise and fireworks display must have attracted attention.” Niall sauntered over to Val. “Is your in-vehicle comline secure?”

  Val nodded, his attention focused on his business partner. John stood where Jamira had left him. He avoided everyone’s gaze, and seemed preoccupied with the state of his jacket lining.

  “We split them up,” Niall continued, “and take separate routes. Do you have access to a private lift in your building?”