Code of Conduct

by Kristine Smith

  Ridgeway’s bleary glower sharpened. “You don’t like me, Ms. Tyi. That’s fine—I’m not mad for you, either. I don’t believe your participation in what I consider should remain an in-House investigation is necessary.” He took a step back.

  “But we both follow orders, don’t we? Live to serve? That’s what I tried to tell you before, and so badly, too. I do apologize.” He strolled from the portrait to a display case of ornaments, gesturing for Jani to follow. “But now, I think we understand one another. The idomeni have a term for our particular brand of impasse. Esteemed enemy. For now, let us consider ourselves esteemed enemies.”

  “We’d have to have a ceremony,” Jani said, “to declare it properly. There are offertories to the gods, followed by the shedding of blood through ritual combat.”

  Ridgeway offered a sly smile. “Is that a challenge, Risa? Perhaps later. It sounds very…cross-cultural.” He reached into the display case and fingered a polished shell. “What do you think of Ms. Wyle?”

  She’s like her father. “She’s like most dexxies. Rough around the edges. Needs some social buffing.”

  Ridgeway scowled at Jani’s use of the slang term for documents examiner. “Buffing,” he said pointedly. “Not a day goes by when I don’t stifle the urge to throttle her. But considering her background, I make allowances.” He returned the shell to its niche. “You’ve heard of her father, of course?”

  “Hansen?”

  “Yes. One of only six humans to degree at the Academy in Rauta Shèràa. One of only six to study the paper system with the race that perfected it. What an honor.” Jani could hear the envy in Ridgeway’s voice. “Then that damned war started, and he had to stick his nose in. What a waste.”

  Jani struggled to keep her tone level. “From what I’ve heard, he knew the Laumrau leaders. He knew the Vynshà. I believe he did what he thought best, in order to help.”

  “And the shatterbox found the building he was in anyway, and the building collapsed on him anyway, and he died anyway, even though he was only trying to help.” Ridgeway pushed the display case toward the center of the table. Jani winced as the metal supports screeched against the polished wood.

  “Now the idomeni are back,” she said, “and you have to work with them. How do you reconcile that?”

  “I don’t,” Ridgeway replied too quickly. “But I do have the opportunity to help the daughter of the man I grew up wanting to emulate.” The look in his eyes grew reverential. “Hansen was more than one of the six. He was One of Six. They were treated like idomeni, constantly being tested—the pressure was unending. But he always came out on top. He was the best.” He sighed. “I’m afraid Angevin will have to emerge from under a fairly formidable shadow.”

  Jani worked her tensing shoulders. “I think,” she said slowly, “part of the girl’s problem, if she indeed has one, will be in having to deal with other people’s expectations.”

  “True. True.” Ridgeway nodded sagely, his sarcasm detector apparently flooded with ethanol. “All we can do is all we can. In the end it’s up to her. No one can work magic with someone fundamentally unsuited to the task at hand.” He gave Jani a superior smile, his sarcasm synthesizer apparently functioning just fine. “Speaking of which, why don’t we get this transfer over with? You realize what I’m handing over to you?”

  “Yes.” Jani did a mental ten count. “You’re giving me sensitive files pertinent to the investigation of Lyssa van Reuter’s death, which contain details of His Excellency’s life.”

  “Oh, they contain details, all right. Their contents may shock even a jaded soul like you, Ms. Tyi. We never realize what Mother Commonwealth knows about us until it’s too late.” Ridgeway offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  Angevin bounded to her feet as Jani and Ridgeway reentered the dining room. “His Excellency’s been telling me the most ripping things! All about the idomeni!” Her enthusiasm withered as soon as her eyes met Ridgeway’s. She walked over to the sideboard and rummaged through a large leather bag. From it, she removed a sheaf of papers and three pouches, two the size of a man’s hand, one much larger.

  In the meantime, Ridgeway collected the documents case and carried it to the dining room table. Evan, fresh from making young women’s eyes shine, perched on the arm of a nearby chair and graced Jani with a tired grin.

  The grin died when he saw what Ridgeway was doing.

  We knew this was coming, Evan. Jani pulled her duffel from beneath her chair, cracked the fasteners, and removed her own small, scuffed pouch. Besides, what can go wrong? She knew the answer to that. She would just try not to think about it.

  The world of close-controlled paper did get complicated at times, but an ownership transfer was one of the simpler procedures. As Angevin Wyle laid out the logs that they each would sign and date, Ridgeway prepared to reprogram the case’s touchlocks to accept Jani’s prints.

  Of course, he’d have to scan her hands and retinas first, and run a comparison check against the various databases each Cabinet-class ship contained within its systems. Criminal. Service. Medical. A matter of procedure. Everyone understood that. Just another form to file away for future audits.

  Ridgeway smirked as he removed his scanner from the largest of the three pouches and activated it.

  Jani heard Evan fidget behind her. She smiled, which seemed to disappoint Ridgeway. He pouted when she stepped without hesitation into range of the boxlike scanner and held out her hands.

  But my handprints aren’t the same, are they? Or her retinas. The doctors who had reassembled her had been, after all, very forward-thinking. She watched as a bright yellow light throbbed beneath the scanner’s surface. The device hummed, then the indicator display glowed bright, clear green.

  “Happy, Durian?” Evan asked, injecting the distilled essence of generations of Familial ennui into his voice.

  “Just following prescribed procedure, Ev,” Ridgeway said as he stuffed the scanner back into its pouch. “Better safe than sorry.” Using a UV stylus, he opened the switches in the document case’s control panel, waited for Jani to place her palm against the sensor pad, then closed the switches, locking in her print as the key.

  Just like the good old days. Jani glanced at Evan, who winked back. She removed her scanpack from its cracked plastic pouch. The oval device contained a mass of her farmed brain tissue, through which a network of nervelinks and data chips had been implanted. Working together to serve as guideposts on a roadway, the unit and its attachments stored the data necessary to enable its owner to navigate through the documents maze. Her brain-in-a-box, literally. How long had it been since she’d used it as it was meant to be used? In front of her peers, during a high-level documents transaction?

  Jani brushed a few flecks of dirt from the scanpack’s surface. Over twenty years of use meant that the hand-sized, five-centimeter-thick oval didn’t look much better than its container. Scratches dulled its black polycoat finish. Some of the touchpad labeling had been worn away. She examined the nutrient insert slot along the side, then sniffed quickly. No fishy odor, which would have signaled a leak in the spent nutrient broth line, a sure sign of a poorly maintained ’pack. That had never been a problem for her, but accidents did happen. If Ridgeway even suspected she didn’t maintain her equipment, she knew she’d never hear the end of it.

  Ridgeway looked from his own immaculate tortoiseshell unit to Jani’s. “Oh, Ms. Tyi, that is a confidence-builder.”

  Jani shrugged. “The problem with having nice things, Mr. Ridgeway, is that in some of the places I’ve lived, there are those who would wish to separate them from me. I try to avoid trouble.” She turned on her device, waited for the display to activate, then gently slid it over the first of the three forms.

  The sensors on the ’pack’s underside evaluated the paper surface, analyzed the inks and metal foils decorating the ornate document, decoded the encryptions contained in the chips and prionics embedded in the parchment. Everything but Luna’s phase on the day it was made�
��that’s what the document would tell her scanpack, which then would compare that information to the data stored in its own chips and cells.

  Bright green identification strings scrolled across the display. “It’s a current-issue Interior Ministry ownership transfer log, all right,” Jani said to Ridgeway. She ignored his glower, affixed her signature to the document, then moved on to the next as Angevin and Ridgeway completed their portion of the first. After all three forms were completed, they each took one copy. Jani stashed hers in her duffel, while Angevin returned hers and Ridgeway’s to the leather bag.

  “Are we finally finished?” Evan groaned. “I don’t know how any business gets completed in a timely fashion these days.” He sounded bored, but his face showed the drained relief of a man whose fever had finally broken.

  “Yes, Ev, you can go to bed now,” Ridgeway said as he jammed his ’pack back into its sheath. He followed up the snappish remark with a smile, but that did little to counter his bundled-underwear edginess. “We will be disembarking late day after tomorrow, at Padishah,” he said to Jani. “If you need any assistance afterward, zip us a message through message central transmit. We’ll do what we can.” He eyed her scanpack again. “I’m sure the equipment you work with leaves something to be desired.”

  Angevin walked over to Jani, looking at her for the first time with something akin to a smile. “Looks used,” she said, pointing to the scanpack’s battered case.

  Jani nodded. “It has been.”

  Angevin was about to say something else, but Ridgeway linked her arm through his and led her away.

  “Till tomorrow, Ev,” he said as they left. “And a good evening to you as well, Ms. Tyi. You will remember what we talked about?”

  “What was that all about?” Evan asked after the sliders closed. “Don’t tell me—Durian was being Durian.” He eased into a lounge chair and ran a hand over his face. Even in the cabin’s soft illumination, his skin looked dull. “Forgive him, Jan—he takes damned good care of me in the bargain. And he’s worried about those docs.”

  “You’re not?”

  “I’m not sure what you’ll think of me after reading some of them, but I have to take that chance. Besides, I trust you.” He studied Jani for a few moments, his expression neutral. Then he motioned for her to take the seat across from him.

  “Like Durian said, in two days we’ll reach Padishah. He and Ange will be catching a Service courier that will get them home a week ahead of the Arapaho.” He took a deep breath. “I need to go with them. Elyas is petitioning to reopen colonial secession talks. Along with the other Outer Circle worlds, they somehow dragged the Jewellers’ Loop into the brawl, and that means lots of might and money flying around. The centrists want me home.”

  Jani said nothing. Instead, she watched Evan’s hands, as she had learned to do during their time together. They rested easily on his knees. No nail-picking. No sleeve-tugging. Either he told the truth or he’d learned to hide his lies better.

  “I’d been debating telling you for days. Thought if I mentioned it, I’d give you just another excuse to bolt. But I’ve no choice. Duty calls.”

  “You roust me out of my home, close off my escape routes, then tell me you’re leaving me alone among strangers for five weeks?”

  Evan wrinkled his nose. “Whalen was no home. And you don’t need any escape routes.” His eyes sparked. “Besides, I’m more concerned for the strangers than I am for you.” His stare deepened and his features slackened until he wore the bewildered, slightly stunned expression Jani remembered from their first meeting. “I wish I could stay.”

  If you’re going to look at me like that, maybe it’s better you don’t. Jani tugged as unobtrusively as she could at the bodice of her dress. A waste of time—the silky material snapped back into snug place like a second skin. “Well, I may be able to work better without you around.” She snuck a peek at Evan beneath her lashes. He wore evening clothes as easily as other men wore ship coveralls; now, as he unfastened the stiff formal tunic, he looked very agreeably rumpled. You’re still the best-looking man I’ve ever known. Yes, and he had very good reasons to go out of his way to make her feel cosseted and comfortable. If it so happened that keeping her cozy could get him laid, he wouldn’t turn it down. Remember the pragmatist.

  Not fair. Except for that single grumble in the Amsun station bathroom concerning their breakup, he had been silent on the matter of their past. Sheep’s eyes don’t count. Those could be chalked up to a heavy meal and too much alcohol. Neither do wicked thoughts. Lucky for her.

  “The centrists,” she said, “think the colonies will require a lengthy period of adjustment before full independence can be granted. I’ve heard numbers ranging from ten to one hundred years. Speaking as a colonial, I don’t think we need babying.”

  If Evan noticed the abrupt cool-off, he hid it beneath a veneer of serious reflection. “The coalition pushing for these talks is led by a group being advised by Ulanova. They may know how to run businesses, but they don’t know how to run governments. They’d need her help, and she’d give them just enough to keep their heads above water until they needed her again. That’s not true independence.”

  “Maybe it’s enough to get them started.”

  “You don’t know Anais, Jan. Once she’d sunk her claws into that power base, she’d never let go. She wouldn’t rest until she was PM of her own little Commonwealth.”

  “Funny she doesn’t believe she can get what she wants with an Earthbound government,” Jani said. “But then, you’re fairly isolated with respect to GateWays. You’ve turned into a planet-sized office building over the years—you’ve got no substantial manufacturing or shipping anymore. The colonies are where the money is. By comparison, you’re stagnant.”

  Evan scowled. “I wish you’d stop saying ‘you.’” He sagged against the cushions and clasped his hands behind his head. “Are you angry with me? For holding out on you?”

  Jani twitched a shoulder. It twitched back. “A little.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you in Chicago. You will show up, won’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked up at the ceiling and exhaled slowly. “Thank you. I’ll sleep more easily tonight.” He stifled a yawn. “It won’t be horrible.”

  “It could be.”

  “I’ll be there. I’ll help you.” He fell silent for a time. Then his eyes came to life again, and he laughed. “Before you arrived, Durian was filling my ear about Tsecha. Your old teacher’s causing quite a stir, apparently. He took one of the embassy triple-lengths out for a spin a few weeks ago. Problem was, nobody knew he could drive. He got as far as Minneapolis before a Service-idomeni pursuit team caught up to him and herded him back to Chicago. They had a hell of a time hushing it up. That’s all the anti-idomeni faction needs to hear is that the ambassador flits unguarded through the provinces.”

  Jani chuckled as well. “You’re in for it now! Sounds like he hasn’t changed. He used to like making himself up as a human in Rauta Shèràa. He even pulled down a job as a Consulate tour guide for a few days. Nobody could tell—his customers kept asking him what colony he was from.”

  “Oh shit, I’d forgotten about that. One more thing to worry about—what joy.” Evan’s expression grew wistful. “Seems odd, calling him Tsecha. We knew him as Nema. I still think of him by that name.” He looked at Jani, his eyes narrowing. “He liked you.”

  “Yep.”

  “He thought you were special.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He had plans for you.”

  “Evan, if you have a point to make, please do so.”

  “No. No. Just rambling. Exhausted.”

  “Too much to drink.”

  “Hmm.” Worry clouded his features for a moment. “How do you feel?”

  “Fine.”

  “Are you sure? You look ill.”

  “Thanks.” Jani rubbed her stomach. It had started to ache. “I just ate too much.”

  “We’ve had a few
nasty new bugs crop up in the Outer Circle over the past few years. Maybe you should see a doctor.”

  “No.”

  Evan held up his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok. Sorry I mentioned it.” He struggled to his feet, then helped her gather her bag and case. “Cabin’s to your liking, I hope? Your clothes?”

  “Nothing fits, Evan.”

  “Really?” He circled her, studying her in a way not entirely objective. “I did my best. Took your measurements from your old ID and turned it over to my tailor. She seldom errs.”

  “She made up for lost time.”

  “I disagree. This dress is perfect.” He chucked her under the chin. “Goes with the face.” His hand lingered near her cheek. “I’m getting used to it. It fits you. Very ‘Queen of the Nile.’” He hesitated, then leaned close and hugged her lightly, as though he feared she’d pull away. “We’ll be fine. You’ll see.” His breath smelled of wine; his neck, of the haygrass-scented cologne he’d always favored. Jani broke the embrace before she wanted to and rushed out the door before he could say good night. She walked back to her cabin in the grip of the sensation that she’d just skimmed over a land mine.

  I have to play this at arm’s length. She hated to admit how good it felt to talk to Evan, to someone who knew the long-submerged Jani Kilian and, if outward signs could be believed, still cared about her as well. It wouldn’t take long to become used to nice dinners and pleasant conversation again. And anything else that might reasonably follow. Soon, the roots would go so deep that when the time came to cut and run, she’d be fixed in place by indecision and fear of what she would lose. I can’t afford to relax. Especially now, with Ridgeway watching her every move.

  She turned the corner in time to see her steward emerge from her cabin.

  “Ma’am?” He brushed a hank of hair from his sweaty brow. “There’s a problem with the climate control on this deck. I’ve notified Environmental, but they may not be able to return it to full function until we stop at Padi.”