“And my brother ultimately lost his as a result.”
“He would have said it was worth it. He was utterly fearless. Also stubborn, single-minded, a genius and a mite insane, but in an endearing way.”
Nika’s heart ached with a deep yearning to remember Loshi—what he looked like, how he talked, the escapades they must have enjoyed together. But she also recognized it might well hurt far worse if she could remember. Better to not truly understand the magnitude of what she’d lost?
She nodded in acceptance. “Consider me properly chastised. I suppose I was letting my personal misgivings cloud my objectivity, and I don’t have the right to impose those on every Asterion. You make a strong case, but we can’t make the case to the room without exposing your and my 1st Gen status.”
“Adlai knows, of course, though it wasn’t my choice. I think Selene has long suspected. But Julien, Harris and even Spencer remain ignorant—as well as the Administration Advisors in there—and that’s the way it must stay.”
“On account of ‘the rules.’ ”
“The rules were earned through heartbreak and terrible loss—”
She was so sick of this speech, so she cut Maris off. “I know. Fine. Abruptly changing my position immediately after furtively whispering with you in the hall will raise a few suspicions, but you’re not wrong. I’ll do what I can.”
“It’s the correct decision, my dear.”
Maris pivoted to leave, but Nika called out after her. “Maris? Remember: don’t break Spencer. He’s a good man, and we need him.”
“Perhaps you should be more worried about him breaking me.” With that, she spun on a heel and strolled elegantly down the hall and around the corner, leaving Nika standing there speechless. The concept of earnest, mild-mannered, hard-working Spencer Nimoet ever cracking Maris’ formidable composure? It was absurd.
She shook her head in dismay and returned to the meeting room, where she retook her seat and clasped her hands atop the table. “Sorry for the interruption. I want to take a step back and reevaluate where we are, because I feel as if we’ve gotten lost in the weeds here, debating minutiae and blowing up worst-case scenarios. I’m not blaming anyone—I’m guilty of it as well. But I can’t help but question if this is how the Guides started, taking one tiny step after another down the path of repression—”
“That’s not fair,” Adlai protested, and this time he was definitely not teasing.
Still, she pressed her point. “I’m not comparing us to the Guides. Not yet. But if we keep going this way, one day we will become as bad as them. So let’s not keep going. Asterions exist as a people because we fought for the right of all sentient beings to live free. I led a rebellion practically yesterday against a tyrannical government, then dismantled it in favor of a better way forward.
“The fact is, it doesn’t matter if we believe Plexes are more likely to commit crimes than the general population. It doesn’t matter if they make us uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter if I or Adlai or any other Advisor disapproves of them. It’s not our job to pass judgment on their life choices. So long as they respect other people’s lives, liberty and property, none of us have any authority to tell them they can’t exist.”
Her gaze swept across those seated at the table. “Does anyone want to argue that I’m wrong?”
Parc rested by the small window and watched while a dyne team disassembled the Project Shurido command center. It was now futile to try to hide their worlds from Rasu discovery, so all the work on the planetary cloaking shield had been for naught.
Okay, not totally for naught. In adapting Taiyok stealth tech for the project rather than simply using it out of the box, they’d learned a great deal about how the technology worked. They’d also refined and honed their satellite communications and sensor algorithms. If the improvements were as clever as their creators—mostly him—claimed, they’d soon use that earned knowledge in other areas, including to help keep the Rasu off their soil and out of their heads.
A throat cleared in the doorway, and Nika peeked inside. He motioned her over. “We’re taking down the office here.”
“You did good work. It won’t be in vain.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” He cast his eyes toward the ceiling. “How are things going upstairs?”
“I have good news. You’re no longer a criminal.”
“Are you certain?”
“Only that you’re no longer a criminal merely for being a Plex—I don’t want to know about any other reasons you might be one. The details of a few restrictions and registration requirements are being hammered out by the Justice Advisors, but within a couple of hours Plexes will no longer be in legal limbo.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“Parc.”
“No, it is. I definitely don’t want a second visit to Zaidam in my future. It’s only…the legality of my existence hasn’t been the first thing I’ve been fretting over when I wake up in the morning.”
She grimaced. “Believe me, I know how that is.”
“But you turned in your Plex card. Are you regretting it now?”
“No, I am not. This singular body is keeping me plenty busy as it is.”
“I bet.” He grinned. “Can I have one?”
“A kyoseil-saturated body? Um…” she frowned “…Dashiel wants to run the full design construct through additional safety and functionality tests before we think about making it an option for people. Obviously, we didn’t have time for safety checks in my case.”
“But when you got back from Namino, you kept it anyway.”
“I did.” A far-off, whimsical expression crossed her features. He’d gotten a few ceraff-glimpses at the mind of Nika Kirumase in recent months, and it was a damn complicated place, even by his standards.
One of the dynes uttered a request for clarification of its instructions, and he went to investigate the issue. “Have you seen Ryan lately?” he asked casually over his shoulder.
“First thing this morning, actually. He was meeting with Lance about helping out on some new modifications to DAF’s combat mechs.”
“Good. Ryan will be an asset on whatever scheme Palmer is spinning up for the mechs.” Parc adjusted the dyne’s instructions and shifted his attention back to Nika. “What else do you have for me? Anything interesting? Anything at all?”
Something akin to concern flickered in her eyes. Had he sounded so pathetic? “We’re scheduled to push out an Initiative-wide update on all active projects later today. I’m sure several items on the list will catch your fancy.”
“I’m sure they will.”
After she left, he settled back in to watch the dismantling work, but his brilliant mind could hardly be expected to only focus on one thing at a time. For a few minutes he piggybacked on his Plex duplicate’s efforts to continue to improve the ceraffin operating code, but eventually his thoughts drifted to the recent events on Namino, as they did at least four or four hundred times a day.
He was all PTSD-out thanks to the Rasu torture inflicted on a prior version of himself; this time he was trying to learn something from his mostly horrible experience on Namino. But attempts to learn something about himself inevitably led, as they always did in the quiet, to thinking about Ryan, and he was pretty confident surviving the Rasu on Namino hadn’t taught him a damn thing to help him salvage their relationship.
25
* * *
MIRAI
Justice Center
Adlai felt like a stranger in his own office. When he’d been kidnapped, it had become Spencer’s office for a time, then sat vacant while he recovered at a clinic. Then the Rasu had attacked Namino, and nearly all of his time was spent at the Initiative or the refugee centers, trying to maintain a bare semblance of order and security at both.
He chuckled darkly to himself. Perrin made sure the evacuees were fed and clothed and counseled, while he made sure they didn’t shoot one another or steal what meager belongings people had brought along. B
oth efforts were necessary, but she was definitely awarded more smiles and hugs than he ever received.
Which was fortunate, because the smiles and hugs might be the only thing keeping her going right now, despite his earnest endeavors to provide her the support she needed. She was too good and felt things too deeply for a world that could venture into such darkness.
But his job was to hold the darkness at bay. He could manage the thieves and assaulters and occasional would-be murderers, but bringing the Rasu to justice was proving to be beyond his capabilities.
And Plexes. He wasn’t happy about being overruled by the other Advisors today, but he was self-aware enough to recognize his prejudices on the topic were of a most personal nature. It wasn’t Ian Sevulch’s status as a Plex that had driven him to kidnap and torture Adlai; it was the disintegration of a mind that had suffered past its breaking point. The man deserved empathy and treatment, but all Adlai felt toward him was bitter acrimony.
A knock on the door snapped him out of his maudlin ruminations. Selene gave him a little wave from the doorway. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” He motioned toward one of the chairs opposite his desk. Selene’s home, Justice Center workplace and entire jurisdiction had been destroyed, so she was working out of the Initiative and renting a hotel suite for now. No one had broached the possibility of doing away with the Namino Advisor positions or the divisional branches they managed, since Namino was going to be rebuilt. One day.
“What’s up? Change your mind on the Plexes already?”
“No.” Instead of taking a seat, she wandered along the front of his desk, first in one direction, then pivoting to draw a fingertip along the surface as she reversed course. “Tell me about Joaquim Lacese.”
Adlai had expected some issue involving the draft Plex regulations or an update on one of the recent altercations at the refugee centers. “You spent several weeks with him on Namino. I’d say you know him better than I do.”
“Possibly. But those were unique circumstances. None of us were quite ourselves while we were trapped in that pressure-cooker. You’ve had dealings with him before, though. Your girlfriend is close to him, as is Nika. I’m curious as to your thoughts.”
“Why?”
“Because I am. I value your opinion.”
“Fine. But remember, you asked. I believe he can’t be trusted. I believe that he believes his heart is in the right place, but he doesn’t respect any boundaries or rules. His time in NOIR—or maybe he was always this way—made him decide he exists above and outside the law.”
“Fair points. Then why do you put up with Perrin’s friendship with him?”
He smiled wryly. “I don’t get to tell Perrin who she can and cannot spend time with.”
“Good for you. Why else don’t you care for him?”
“Isn’t my saying ‘I don’t trust him’ enough of a reason?”
“Come on, Adlai. Don’t play interrogator with me.”
He sighed. “I can’t prove it, and I don’t expect to ever be able to do so, but I’m convinced he killed Blake Satair—final death.”
“You think he introduced the corruption into the server to wipe Satair’s psyche backup?”
“Or hired someone to do it, yes. He despised Satair with a terrifying fervor.”
Her expression soured, but she nodded deliberately. “Okay.”
“Selene, you know he loathes anything and anyone associated with Justice.”
“Yes, I picked up on it. But we got past any prejudices to work together on Namino, because the situation demanded it. By the end, I think he trusted me implicitly. And…” she tossed her hands in the air and collapsed into the chair “…I’m not saying you’re wrong about him. In many ways, I’m certain you’re correct.
“But here’s the thing: I’ve never met a more strident defender of innocents. Never, not in all my many years of working for Justice. Yes, he’s wild and irresponsible, quick to flare in anger, emotionally closed-off from everyone, rudely impatient and imprudent in the extreme. But on Namino, all he wanted to do was save lots of people and kill lots of Rasu.”
“Doesn’t everyone want to do those things?”
“Everyone says they do, but few possess both the skill and psychological will to accomplish either feat. He does.”
Adlai’s eyes narrowed, and he dropped his elbows onto his desk. “You like him, don’t you?”
She drew back in reproach. “I respect several aspects of his approach to life.”
“Selene, your personal life is none of my business, but you can’t possibly—”
“You’re right. It isn’t your business.” She leapt up from the chair and strode brusquely toward the door. “Thank you for the advice. Your theory about what happened to Satair is disturbing. I’ll keep it in mind.”
Then she was gone, and Adlai was left shaking his head at the empty doorway. Selene was one of the most practical and pragmatic people he knew; no way would she succumb to whatever incomprehensible charms the former NOIR operative tossed her way. Surely.
He rubbed at his forehead. No matter what he did or how hard he tried, he could not seem to rid himself of Joaquim Lacese.
Mirai One
Joaquim groaned at the sound of the door chime. He’d been working for hours trying to improve the deployment trigger mechanism for the archine grenade design with few results to show for it, and he was in no mood for visitors. But after the events on Namino and somewhat to his surprise, he seemed to find himself regarded as a legitimate member of society now, so he reluctantly stood and went to answer it. Then he saw Selene Panetier’s face on the door cam and stopped short.
Gods, she was gorgeous, all hard edges and bold confidence. And Justice and the enemy. And his recent partner in an insurgency against evil. And a delightful wildcat in bed. And Justice and the enemy. Not ‘the enemy’ in the way the Rasu were, of course, but worthy of his scorn at a minimum.
Right?
He should ignore her. Let her stand out in the hall and twiddle her thumbs until she got bored and left. But why was she here at all? After the cringe-worthy way he’d departed her hotel room, he’d never imagined she would seek him out again.
She could be here to arrest him for any of a multitude of crimes, most of which he’d fairly committed. He didn’t fancy damaging her to clear out and vanish, but he’d…would he do it if he had to? Ah, shit.
As the questions tumbled over one another in his mind, curiosity got the better of him, and he impulsively opened the door. “Panetier, what do you want?”
Her expression was so scrupulously blank, she might as well be interrogating him in a cell. “It was ‘Selene’ the other night.”
“I was drunk the other night. What do you want?”
She shoved something bulky into his chest. “I brought your shoes back to you. Trashed the underwear.”
He jerked in surprise, barely catching the shoes before they tumbled to the floor, and she took the opportunity to stride right past him into his apartment.
“You could have just burnt these in a pyre. Also, I didn’t say you could come in.”
“You really are an unmitigated asshole.”
“Yes. For the thousandth time, you simply must have known this by now.”
“I did.” She wandered around the small living space for a moment, then abruptly spun toward him. “Did you kill Blake Satair?”
He unceremoniously tossed his shoes into the corner and sank against the wall. “Been talking to Weiss, have you?”
“I talk to Advisor Weiss almost every day, as a matter of course. Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you hire someone else to kill him for you?”
“What difference does it make? He’s gone, and the world is a better place for his absence.” Joaquim went to the refrigeration unit and grabbed a beer…then reached back in and got a second one, which he tossed to her.
She caught it in one hand, opened the bottle and took a long swig. “It matters be
cause I want to know the truth.”
“The truth about me?”
“The truth about everything. I’m a Justice Advisor. It’s in my blood.”
“You always manage to remind me of that, don’t you?”
“Why do you hate Justice so much? Is it a result of your time in NOIR?”
He snorted. “No. Don’t get me wrong. You lot trying so desperately hard to arrest and imprison us certainly didn’t help. But my justifiable hatred of Justice stretches back a lot further than NOIR.”
“But you only killed Satair. What did he do to you?”
“Without confirming your assumption, I’ll answer your question. He kidnapped me, mind-raped me and tortured me to learn the location of the NOIR base. Then he killed and psyche-wiped an old colleague of mine, bombed the NOIR base and took out a bunch of my friends. He also killed the love of my life, but that’s another story.”
Her eyes flickered in surprise. “I’d like to hear that story.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to tell it.” Joaquim turned up his beer until the flare of aging grief faded.
When he finally lowered the bottle, he found her demeanor had only grown more complicated. Gone was the blank mask; in its place was something akin to sincerity, confusion and possibly even affection, all laced with grim determination. “Did you have Blake Satair killed?”
The too-endearing expression on her features and gentle tone of her voice snapped something free inside of him, and his posture sagged. Lying in the face of such multi-faceted pressure was exhausting. He recognized that as a skilled interrogator, she was definitely manipulating him, but her piercing, hyper-intelligent eyes and somehow always-pouty lips slew the last of his good sense.
“Fine. You win. I did have him killed. I’ll never say who helped me, because I owe them a great deal more than money, so don’t bother asking.” He set the beer on the table beside the couch and extended both arms out in front of him, wrists pressed together. “Are you going to arrest me now? Wipe me and start fresh, or merely store me?”
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