by Jake Elwood
The moment she stepped into the main corridor she knew she was in trouble. The students stood in an uneasy knot, gazing back toward the ballroom, and Lark heard the tramp of heavy boots. She turned, her heart in her throat.
A couple of burly figures marched down the corridor toward the students. They wore uniforms of dark brown, with bulky body armor that made them sinister, anonymous, and bigger than normal humans. The curve of a hip and a fringe of blonde hair escaping from the bottom of a visored helmet told Lark that the one on the left was a woman, but they looked like a couple of gorillas bearing down on the alarmed students. Another armored figure was at the opposite end of the corridor, making sure no one fled.
They were cops rather than soldiers, Lark decided. They had holstered sidearms only, instead of shoulder guns. There was a sky-blue patch on each figure's shoulder. That surprised her. These were Skylanders down from orbit. They shouldn't have had any authority or jurisdiction on the ground, and her pulse quickened as she wondered if it was an invasion.
They weren't here to invade, though. They were coming for her. The woman hung back while the man stepped forward and put a big gloved hand on Lark's shoulder.
"Now hold on!" Miss Grimsby snapped. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Skyland security, ma'am." The man's voice was scrambled by static. He had some kind of microphone and speaker built into his helmet. "We need to speak to this girl."
"You need to do no such thing!" If Miss Grimsby was aware of their armor and weapons, she gave no sign of it. She seemed to swell, until Lark could have sworn she was larger than the armored cop. "Lark is a student under my protection. You take your hand off of her right now, or …" She seemed to struggle for a moment, searching for a credible threat. "Or you'll regret it!"
The man tugged on Lark's shoulder and she stumbled toward him, helpless. "The girl won't be harmed, ma'am. We just need to talk to her."
"Now look here, you off-world hoodlum, if you think—" Miss Grimsby advanced on the man, and he reached out with his free hand, clamping it onto her shoulder. She winced, and Lark felt a sudden rush of fury. She booted him on his armored shin, which hurt her foot.
"Ouch," said Miss Grimsby, alarm blending with the indignation in her voice. "You're hurting me."
Lark examined his left leg. The shin armor ended just below his knee. A plate covered his thigh, with a curving piece of metal at the bottom to protect his kneecap. The bottom edge of his kneecap, though, was exposed from below. Lark took careful aim, then booted him just as hard as she could.
"Ow!" The man cursed, let go of Lark and Miss Grimsby, and hopped on one foot, clutching his knee. Lark swung a kick at the back of his right knee, hoping to bring him down. He got his left foot down in time, though, stumbling and catching his balance.
"Don't you touch her!" said Lark and Miss Grimsby together.
The old man conducting their tour was no help at all, standing well to the side with his mouth open. Feet clattered on the tiles of the ballroom and a woman bustled into view, a slim young man hurrying along behind her clutching a PAD. Lark recognized the woman, one of the countless officials who had come out to give a short, dull speech to the students.
"Ms. Fevridge," Miss Grimsby exclaimed. "This …" she gestured at the Skyland cop – "… taurine oaf is trying to remove one of my students!"
Fevridge stalked over to the group. She was old, her face deeply lined with habitual disapproval, and she scowled at everyone in turn before fixing her glare on Lark. "What's this about?"
Lark stared at her, not knowing where to begin. It was the big Skyland man who answered, though. "We have a security concern." He gestured at Lark. "We need to speak with this individual."
"This child," Miss Grimsby interrupted. "Don't mince words with me, young man."
"We were promised full cooperation by the ZPP where matters of VIP security were concerned," the Skylander said. "We intend to exercise it."
The ZPP were the Zemoth Planetary Police. They wouldn’t be charging to the rescue, then.
"You're a senator," Miss Grimsby said to Fevridge. "Can't you do something?"
"The girl won't be harmed," the Skylander said. "We'll return her to you once we've spoken to her."
"I'm responsible for her," Miss Grimsby said, then looked at the rest of the class. "But I'm responsible for all of them, too."
"I'll go with her," Fevridge said. Her cold eyes fixed on the Skylander. "I'll see that her rights are protected."
Miss Grimsby looked relieved, though Lark was not reassured. The sour-faced senator hardly seemed like a caring champion. "You would do that?"
Fevridge shrugged, and for a moment a wry smile touched her lips, making her seem almost human. "It's an excuse to miss the dullest committee meeting you've ever imagined. Sure. I'll stick with the girl, and if I get called away I'll make sure Partridge here never leaves her side." She gestured at the slim young man with the PAD. "Don't worry about a thing." She shot another glare at the Skylander. "I'll make sure our honored guests don't infringe on her rights."
And just like that, it was over. The hand closed on Lark's shoulder once again, perhaps a tiny bit tighter than was strictly necessary. The man turned, forcing Lark to trot around him in a circle, and he marched her down the corridor. The other Skylander, the woman, took up station on Lark's other side. Lark walked, helpless in the man's grip, Fevridge's heels clicking along somewhere behind her.
They walked through the ballroom, down a flight of stairs, and into the street. A hovertruck sat waiting, an impossibly long vehicle with windows tinted to opacity, a behemoth of chrome and dark paint. A hatch on the side slid open as they approached. The Skyland man pushed Lark inside, then said, "You could meet us at—"
"I'll ride with the little girl," Fevridge said firmly, and pushed past him, joining Lark on a long bench seat that lined one side of the truck. Fevridge's assistant sat on the other side of his boss, and the two armored Skylanders sat across from them. A third Skylander joined them, the man who'd covered the far end of the corridor, Lark assumed. The hatch slid shut and she found herself staring at her own curved reflection in three anonymous helmets. She looked wide-eyed and scared, her face a pale blur in the darkness.
"I didn't do anything," Lark said. "I was only—"
Fevridge clapped a hand over her mouth. "Quiet, child. Nothing you say will persuade these three to let you go. You can only make your situation worse. Not better." She lowered her hand. "Understand?"
Lark nodded and lapsed into silence. Fevridge leaned back and practiced her glare, first on one helmeted face, then another. She didn't need the practice. Her glare was very good.
The tinted windows made the inside of the hovertruck quite dark. It was a featureless rectangular space, the three cops lit faintly by the small amount of light that made it through the windows. Lark sat back, putting her hands on the seat beneath her, feeling the fabric cool and smooth beneath her fingers. It felt like a very nice truck, even if she couldn’t see the details. Cool air played across the skin of her face, and she heard the faintest hint of music, something instrumental and soothing, just at the edge of hearing. It would have been quite a nice ride if her stomach hadn't been sour and knotted with fear.
The truck didn't travel far before it stopped again. They were still in downtown Kingstown, then. Even though Miss Grimsby and the rest of the class could do nothing for her, Lark found it comforting to know they weren't far off. The hatch slid open and the three Skylanders climbed out.
"Let me do most of the talking, whenever possible," Fevridge murmured. "Don't speak without thinking first. If someone asks you a question and you answer it before I have time to count to five, I'm going to kick you under the table. Understand?"
Lark nodded.
"Good. Let's go."
Chapter 10
Lark climbed out of the truck and found herself inside a compound with high concrete walls on every side. She stared around, blinking, waiting for her eyes to adjust to sunlight ag
ain.
Two military-looking robots stood on either side of a gate behind the truck. Along with the three cops from the truck she could see a man and a woman in blue uniforms with holstered sidearms and another bulky figure in full body armor.
The wall beside the truck was actually a building, she saw. There was a steel door with a camera and a gun turret above it and a scanner just to one side. The Skylanders were taking their security very seriously indeed.
But the security was illusory, Lark saw as the Skylanders led her and her companions inside. She recognized this building. It was a government structure, one of many the class had visited on their first day in Kingstown. She couldn’t actually remember which level of government used this particular building. The city, plateau, and planetary governments all had offices in Kingstown. All of their buildings, though, were open to the public.
A couple of secretaries edged back from the armored men, lips curling in distaste. The Skyland presence had to be temporary, Lark guessed, office space loaned to the visitors as they prepared for Kaia Highstar's official visit. Lark wanted to roll her eyes. All this fuss, and for what? The girl wasn't even a real princess, not technically. She was the daughter of a politician.
Still, with the son of Hiram Hearne awaiting execution in Skyland, the girl might be in real danger. Hearne might decide that the life of one child was an appropriate price for the life of another child. Maybe all this paranoia was necessary.
The armored cops – security officers, Lark supposed – stopped on either side of a wide wooden door. The big man who'd hauled Lark around by the shoulder pushed the door open and said, "Inside, please."
Lark glanced at Fevridge. The senator arched an eyebrow, gave her a tiny shrug, and walked through the doorway. Lark and Partridge followed.
They were in a small boardroom. The air smelled of leather and wax. Every surface was dark, from the somber rows of chairs to the long polished table and the ash-colored business suits of the three figures standing by the far wall. There were two men and a woman, and they ranged in age from about thirty to about sixty, but to Lark they seemed like triplets. Three pairs of eyes focussed on her and three sets of lips pursed in disapproval. They reminded her of bitter schoolteachers who had learned to loathe the children who invaded their classrooms. They reminded her of Fevridge.
"Have a seat." The speaker was an older woman with dark skin and graying hair in a halo of tight curls around her head. She spoke with a distinct Skyland accent, drawing out a chair for herself and gesturing impatiently at the new arrivals.
Lark took a chair. The leather was cool and stiff, the chair built for someone much taller. The top of the table almost reached her chin when she sat down. Fevridge took a chair beside her.
"My name is Coe," the woman said. "This is Inspector Al Fazil and Mr. Denner. We'll be deciding whether you'll be permitted to remain in Kingstown."
Lark gaped at her, emotions in a swirl. Arrest was apparently not on the table. Nor was summary execution. She could relax somewhat. But being sent home in disgrace would be a disaster. She would never hear the end of it. Cassie would be furious, and Lark would miss out on the best parts of the field trip. Mixed in with her dismay was a rising irritation. Who was this arrogant off-world woman, to make a high-handed decision about where Lark went on her own planet?
"Now. What were you doing in that corridor when you separated from the rest of the class?"
"All I was doing was—"
The impact of Fevridge's toe against her calf shocked Lark into silence. She hadn't taken the woman's threat seriously. The senator had a point, though. Saying the first thing that came into her mind would not be helpful.
A long, silent moment stretched out. Coe's face darkened with annoyance, and that, Lark decided, was reason enough to delay her response.
"Well?" said Coe at last.
Lark stared at her, wondering what to say. To buy time she said, "Can you repeat the question?"
Coe's lips thinned. "You left the rest of your group. You went down a side corridor. You claimed you were going to the washroom, but you went past the washroom to a janitorial alcove." She leaned forward, glaring. "I want to know why."
A half-forgotten conversation flashed through Lark's mind. She and Cassie had been eating lunch at the villa outside of Zemlya City, and Cassie had been giving Lark advice. Lark had tuned most of it out, but one bit had stayed with her.
"The best defence," Cassie had said, "is always offence. Fight where you decide, when you decide, on your schedule. Keep your opponent so busy reacting to you that they don't even get around to trying to hurt you." It had struck Lark as potentially good advice, but advice you could rarely apply.
Today, though, she could apply it. Lark leaned forward, reaching up to rest her elbows on the table. It was awkward with the table so high, but she hoped it made her look confident. She matched Coe glare for glare and said, "You've been spying on me."
Coe opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. "It's a government building," she said. "There's surveillance."
"The Iskander Hotel is not a government building." Lark seized the bubble of indignation that nestled under her breastbone, nurtured it, used it to drown out an almost paralyzing anxiety. Instead of the timid squeak she feared, her voice crackled with righteous wrath. "The corridor to the washrooms is no security threat to anyone." She reached for her shirt pocket. "I'm not talking about security cameras. I'm talking about spying. You've been watching me with spyders. You've been spying on me personally."
Coe said, "Now, look here, young lady—"
Lark hauled the spyder out of her pocket by one tiny leg and waved it in front of her face. "Want to tell me where this came from?"
"Oh, that's interesting," Fevridge said.
"Give me that." Coe stuck out a hand, but Fevridge's slim hand interposed itself between Coe and Lark.
"May I?"
Lark dropped the spyder into the senator's palm.
Coe's face darkened, and Lark wanted to grin. She kept her expression indignant, though. "My civil rights have been violated!"
"I think you're right," Fevridge said, holding the tiny robot in front of one eye. "The constitution of the republic protects our citizens from excessive electronic surveillance." She shook the spyder at Coe. "I'd consider this excessive."
"We have security concerns," Coe began.
"You have concerns with small children? When they're going to the bathroom?"
Coe's face was distinctly red now. "The spyder didn't follow her into the bathroom. But when she continued down the—"
"You've spied on a citizen of the republic," Fevridge interrupted. "I'd like to know why."
"Everyone who's going to come in contact with Kaia Highstar or her father—"
"Everyone?" Fevridge leaned forward, planting her elbows on the table. "Exactly how many of our citizens are you illegally spying on, Ms. Coe?"
Coe sputtered for a moment, then went silent, her lips a thin, bloodless line. When she spoke again her voice was little more than a hiss. "We have taken the measures we deemed necessary to keep our people safe."
"Those measures will no longer include following the citizens of Zemoth with spyders." Fevridge tucked the spyder into a pocket and sealed it. "Is that clear?"
Coe didn't speak, just nodded.
"Now. I want you to apologize to Lark for invading her privacy."
Coe went very still. Lark tensed, half expecting the woman to lunge across the table. Her fury was a palpable thing, like a red haze coiled around her. Coe took a deep breath, then another. Then, not looking at Lark, she said quietly, "I apologize."
Fevridge beamed. "Splendid! Now, if that's all …" She put her hands on the table, ready to rise.
"It's not all." Coe's voice was tight and ugly. "We observed this child behaving suspiciously. How we obtained our information is irrelevant. She is a security risk. I want her expelled from the city."
The rising sense of triumph in Lark's stomach turned into s
omething cold and heavy.
"Lark." Fevridge didn't take her eyes from Coe as she spoke. "Would you mind waiting outside? Ms. Coe and I have some things to discuss."
"Keep an eye on her," Coe said.
Lark rose. One of Coe's cronies, an old man in a depressing gray suit, rose with her, and the two of them shuffled into the hall. The old man closed the boardroom doors behind him.
Then he stood, arms stiff at his sides, and stared at her.
Lark stood across the hall from him and returned the stare, thinking about ways she could annoy him. What was his name again? Denner? She could call him Mr. Dinner. Or Downer. Everything about the man bugged her, from the slack wattles on his neck to the vague, clueless expression on his face. He was like the embodiment of grumpy adulthood, and she yearned to twit him.
But the way he watched her told her that he saw her as a child, someone inconsequential who needed minding. And every barbed phrase that occurred to her sounded … childish. So she held her tongue, moved her gaze to the wall beside him, and waited.
A man in dark coveralls came up the corridor, waving a scanner over the walls, ceiling, and floor. He looked bored, as if he'd done this a thousand times and had yet to find one interesting thing. "No need to move," he mumbled as he reached them, passing the scanner in front of and around them. He continued on past them and Lark peered around his shoulder at the device in his hand.
He was doing a bug sweep, she realized. The Skylanders, so fond of sending spyders after other people, were making sure that no one tried it on them. She stuck her tongue out at the man's retreating back, then blushed as she realized Denner would have seen it.
Refusing to look at him, she watched as the man in the coveralls reached a corner in the corridor and moved out of sight. The trick she'd used at the opera house wouldn't work here. A spy cam on a cleaning bot would be spotted immediately. If she wanted to plan a daring heist in this building – or sneak in after dark and leave a dead fish in Coe's desk, perhaps – she would need a different approach.