“Actually they’re more like a bighorn sheep,” Jay said, leaning back against a navigation console and staring out one of the large bridge windows at the vast Tartarus expanse. “But no. You get us. How can we help you today?”
“Charming as ever, Jay, I have missed that, believe it or not.”
“But not enough to actually answer my calls. Or come back to check on us, not once in ten years.”
“You know very well why. If you loved my son the way you said all those years ago, even for a moment, you know why I had no choice.”
“Yeah, I sure do. I distinctly remember trying to tell you all about it—the truth, not whatever story Turret spun you. Thanks for listening. Oh, wait!” He made a noise halfway between laughter and disgust, but still didn’t look at her. “That part I don’t remember.”
“This isn’t why I’m here and we’ve been over it anyway.” Annoyance started to enter her tone for the first time. “But I’m listening now. What do I need to do to convince you?”
“You could lay the blame where it belongs. Mihir died to save Parole but it didn’t kill him. Not the city, not the CyborJ syndicate, whoever they are.” He amended the last sentence quickly and continued just as quickly. “The smoking gun—and the guy holding it—they’ve been right in front of you the whole time. And he won’t stop until nothing stands between him and absolute power. That means you, sooner or later.”
“David Turret is many things, most of them unsavory. But he is not a murderer.”
“And the syndicate is? They’ve done nothing but good in Parole for ten years, why would they kill one of their biggest allies? You have to admit it doesn’t add up. Besides, you know nothing about them, that’s kind of their deal.”
“Exactly. Your friends haven’t shown where their loyalty lies. He has. I don’t pretend to know Parole’s shadow players and secret agendas or who would stand to gain from Mihir’s death, but I know Turret isn’t among them.” She spoke briskly, clearly disengaging and ready to move on.
“Taking control over a whole city isn’t gaining from it?”
“He’s rigid, ruthless, and appears to have mishandled his position, possibly quite badly. I’ll believe almost anything about him—but not this.” She hadn’t risen to his bait and the finality in her tone indicated the matter was closed.
“Then I guess we have nothing else to say to each other after all.” Now Jay looked over at her, his expression bitter, disappointed, but not surprised. “You good with ten more years of radio silence?”
Rishika gave her head a rueful shake before turning to look up at the much taller other man. “Hello to you as well, ex-Lieutenant Argyrus.”
Stefanos inclined his head. “Ma’am.”
“You look like you’re doing well for yourself.”
“I am.” His eyes flashed into life for the first time. “Despite everything.”
“Glad to hear it. You were a good officer and agent. And a friend.”
“Don’t.” He shook his head. “We thought you were our friend. Until we all nearly died, a hundred times over. Turret gutted Parole to within an inch of its life and he’s still doing it. And through it all you were nowhere to be found. Until today.” He smiled grimly. “People don’t commandeer each other’s ships just to kiss and make up.”
Rishika looked from him to Jay and back, probing. Stefanos looked away again, shaking his head. Jay watched her out of the corner of his eye and now his expression darkened, eyes narrowing, gradually revealing the beginnings of old pain and fury behind the superficial lightness and control.
“You saw what I was trying to do once,” Rishika said, matching Stefanos’s serious tone but not the darkness under it. “To heal everyone who was hurting. That’s what Chrysedrine was for. You know I have only the absolute greatest good in mind—for all of us.”
“You had good intentions. You and Garrett Cole both. And his medicine did save lives.” His golden eyes narrowed, extinguishing their gleam. “But you can’t just drop a bomb like that and walk away. You can’t shake the earth like that, then just let it go.”
“There were extenuating circumstances.” Rishika’s voice hardened for the first time.
“You’re damn right there were. And we all had to live with the consequences.” Stefanos’s voice had grown to a steady rumble like tectonic plates moving underground. “We were lost without you. And without you, Turret moved in. What did you expect? The moment you started allowing innocents—children—to get caught in the crossfire, you crossed the line.”
Rishika took a breath. “It’s for children that I’m here. My child.”
“Indra came to us for help and that’s what he got.” Stefanos folded his arms and shot Jay a sideways glance, receiving a slight nod in return. “You know why we’re here and what we do. Same thing we’ve done for years. Save lives. Protect anyone who needs it—or asks for it. Make a better life. That’s all we’ve ever wanted.”
“And I want to know my son will be safe.”
“He’s on our ship because it means something to him. He wants to find sanctuary in Parole.”
“Sanctuary in Parole.” She smiled sadly. “That’s a phrase you don’t hear every day.”
“What do you want, Rishika?” Stefanos sighed, sounding as if he felt about as old as the earth they sailed across. “We’re not handing Indra back if he doesn’t want to go. We’ll never force anyone off this ship, you know that.”
“No. And I’d never ask you to.”
“Then what is it you want?”
She stepped closer, holding Stefanos’s golden gaze. “I want to see the state of the world for myself. Somebody told me recently that things are much, much worse than I knew. I’ve been hiding myself away in my tower for far too long—and it’s time I ventured out and took a look.”
“Good,” Jay said suddenly and they both turned. “I spent so long wondering if you’d ever come to your senses, come back and save us. You know, I really thought you would. But I was wrong, every day! And it never got less painful, or confusing. The Rishika Chandrasekhar I knew would never let the people she cared about—no, not just us, that whole city, thousands of people, she’d never let them suffer like that, not if she could help it!”
“And now I’m moving to address that,” she said firmly. “I’m not sure what else I can say.”
“I kept asking myself, what happened?” Jay wasn’t done, voice climbing in pitch as he grew increasingly agitated. “Were you dead? Did Turret actually kill you too in his grab for power? That was my working theory for months! One of the better ones!”
“You never did lack for theories,” she said with an almost fond shake of her head, but he just kept going.
“This kind of devastation, you had to be dead, you’d never stand by and let it happen otherwise. But no, once I finally broke through the Radiance firewalls and found out you were alive and well—and still in charge, that was the kicker, that one hurt—”
“Jay,” Stefanos said softly, turning his focus from Rishika for the first time.
“So then what, if you were alive—did you just not know?” Jay went on as if he hadn’t heard. “Did you really not know what he’d done to us, that we were quarantined, trapped over a fire that never went out, and the ground crumbling under our feet, with his soldiers there to make sure we just stayed in line until we all fell in and died?” He shook his head and took in a fast breath, face shining with sweat.
“I didn’t know,” Rishika said in a measured voice while he recovered. “I still don’t. I’m going to see for myself.”
“What do you mean you still don’t know? Our word isn’t good enough?”
“I need to see for myself.”
“Didn’t you ever wonder how we were doing? A whole city that you—you zapped with this power, these tons of variables, these things we shouldn’t have had, you made Parole what it is! Then you disappeared. Say what you want about Garrett, at least he actually stayed! You let us deal with the fallout, wondering if you w
ere there or could hear us when we cried out for help—”
“Sounds downright Catholic when you put it that way,” Stefanos muttered. He was staring at the ceiling now, as if resigned to Jay’s catharsis. He looked down to see both of them staring at him with nearly-matching expressions of incredulity, then sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes, waving the other one in a ‘go on’ gesture. “Never mind.”
“How could you not know how important you were?” Jay went right back to staring at Rishika and shook his head, slowly at first, then faster. “What losing you meant? Your protection? What that murderer did the second you were gone? Why did you do it, Rishika? Why did you leave us?”
“You know why!” Her voice cut through Jay’s and the dead air. Almost imperceptibly, her hands had begun to shake. She clasped them behind her to steady herself. “I’ve already lost one son to Parole. I won’t lose another.”
“It wasn’t Parole that killed Mihir and you know it. It wasn’t us.” When Jay broke the silence it was in a very low, hard voice that didn’t sound like it belonged to him. “Turret killed him. Turret sentenced an entire city to burn and Mihir died so it was just one person instead.”
Rishika didn’t answer. Or move. But she did steadily meet his eyes.
“Parole still burned. But not to ashes.” Jay’s voice was quiet, slow, but filled with hope. “His death was not in vain. We haven’t let it be, not for one day. We haven’t wasted his sacrifice, or forgotten, and we never will.”
“I still don’t know if his choice was the right one,” she said. Her eyes were wet. “Or if I’ll ever understand it—or heal from it. But I know that you honor it. Which is…good to see.”
“Does that really come as a surprise?” Jay asked, looking at her hard. “We loved your son. Even before he died, he was important and he knew that. And we loved you.” He shook his head, expression softening, not quite a smile but something about halfway there. “Even when you made it hard.”
Rishika swallowed and blinked but when she spoke her voice still didn’t shake. “My word is good. I am talking about saving lives. And I will save your family, if you help me save mine.”
“You mean hand Indra over to you.” Stefanos’s voice dropped several degrees as he focused on her last words.
“No, I’d never ask you to do that,” she said calmly, parting her hands. “I just want to speak to him. If he wants to stay, he stays.”
“And what if he doesn’t want to—”
“It’s okay,” said a new voice from the doorway and they all looked up. Indra was pale and shaking, eyes wide but unwavering as he looked at his mother. “I’m here. I’m listening.”
Rishika opened her mouth, eyes as wide as her son’s. For once, she had no words. Instead, she shut her mouth again and opened her arms. A moment later he rushed into them.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, voice muffled from where he buried his face in her shoulder. “For everything I said back there, at the Chicago center, I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” she curled her fingers through her son’s hair, palm warm on the back of his head. “You were right. You and your friend Annie, you were right. You opened my eyes. I’ve been asleep for a long, long time, Indra. And now it’s time I woke up and saw how the world has changed.” Her eyes narrowed. “And who changed it.”
“Thank you. I’m—I’m so glad…” his voice broke, and she held him tighter.
“Hush. It will be all right. I will make it all right.” Her eyes set into a determined stare over his shoulder. “It’s certainly the least I can do, after everything.”
“You could always come with us,” Indra suggested. His mother stepped back to look him in the face, smiling with what looked like the most tentative optimism.
“Or you could come with me,” she countered, still sounding cautiously hopeful. “We could both face the damage, and decide the next step.”
Indra’s eyes dropped. “Sorry, Mom. I just—”
“You need to do this for yourself. Yes, you told me. And you’ve found…friends here?” Her gaze flicked up to Jay and Stefanos, who stood quietly off to the side, giving them privacy but remaining ready.
“Yeah.” Indra’s smile was faraway but his nod was certain. “We have to see this through together.”
“I understand. Just as I hope,” she continued, more slowly and carefully. “That you can understand…why I did what I did, ten years ago.”
“Easy.” Indra’s smile faded and his eyes slipped to the floor. “Mihir was gone. We all got…messed up.”
“I was devastated.” She shut her eyes. “And angry. I turned my back on Parole, yes. I couldn’t look at that place for another moment. So I left someone I trusted in charge, let him deal with it. And that was a mistake.”
“And you’re trying to fix it now?”
“Yes. I’ll do my best, and just pray my best will be enough. From the sound of it, the damage is extreme.”
“I know.” Indra nodded, still looking frightened but steady on his feet. “I’ve heard the stories. I know I’m heading right into a war zone, and it’s…” He swallowed. “People don’t run toward Parole. Ever. But I am. I have to.”
“Because you need to see it for yourself. Just like me.”
“No,” he shook his head. “We’re both going—but not for the same reason. You want to see how bad it is. I want to see how good it is. Mihir gave his life for it. Something made him want to do that. Parole didn’t kill him…he died so it could live.”
“Nothing I can say will stop you, will it?” Rishika asked, very softly. Everyone on the bridge held their breath.
Indra thought long and hard, as if looking for a reason to stay. “No. It won’t.”
“Then go. See for yourself. And I will do the same.” She closed the distance between them again and pulled him close. Squeezed her eyes shut tight, but couldn’t keep the tears from falling into his hair. “I love you, Indra.”
“Love you too.” His fingers curled tight around the fabric of her coat. “See you in Parole.”
Rishika held him at arm’s length and looked into his eyes for a few seconds, then turned and strode toward the door, only stopping when Indra spoke again.
“What are you gonna do now?”
“We can all agree that there is one person making life much more difficult than it has to be,” she said without turning, the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I’m going to take care of him. It’s been a long time coming.”
“Um, hello.” Brianna cleared her throat, staring at the microphone in front of her as the P.A. system crackled to life. When she glanced up, her father’s stare was as unyielding as ever. She turned back to the microphone and tried to focus on nothing but the words.
“I’m…this is Major Turret’s—I mean, this is Bri,” she corrected and the knot in her stomach loosened. “Because this is me talking, not him. Not Eye in the Sky. And this is really just to one of you. Shiloh. You’re my best friend, I love you and want you to be safe. And this doesn’t have to be hard, it doesn’t. So the best thing for you to do is…” She stopped. Remained silent and still, until she could feel her father’s stare on the back of her head. Then she slammed her hands down on the console.
“Run! Shiloh, this is bullshit!” Brianna yelled, her soft drawl slipping back into her voice as it did when she was upset. “He’s making me say this! My father’s here, he wants me to draw you out so he can catch you, and—”
Turret snatched the microphone from her hand and she whirled around, grabbing at it fruitlessly.
“No! No, give it back—Shiloh, RUN! Keep running! Don’t look back!” Brianna screamed into the still-broadcasting microphone. “Get to Parole, don’t stop—”
“That’s enough!” Rishika’s voice cut through the noise, and they both turned to see her standing in the now-open doorway. “David, I’d ask what in the world you were doing, but I’m not sure there’s an explanation I’d accept. Step away from the intercom.”
“Ma’am,” Turret started, but he did put the microphone down. “This is—”
“Now step away from her.”
Turret held absolutely still and kept his eyes fixed on Rishika. Neither one blinked, but she did raise her eyebrows expectantly after one second too many passed.
“Ma’am, if you would listen to the facts—”
Turret did take a step then, toward Rishika. The moment he moved, so did Brianna. She sprinted past him, darting out of his reach and kept going. She scrambled across the small room, slipped past Rishika and out the door before either of them could move. Turret made no effort to catch her but his already-pale face faded and his jaw worked with a clear flare of silent fury. Rishika turned to watch Brianna go, then focused back on Turret, eyes narrowed and arms folded.
“Facts, you said? I’m listening.”
“Ma’am, I don’t know what you’ve heard,” Turret recovered fast and began in his customary level tone. “But the Parole situation is well in hand.”
“Is it? I’m beginning to wonder.”
“You trusted me. You were grieving, you needed a friend.” His voice dropped a fraction but remained cold where anyone else might have softened. “Someone to handle the mess so you didn’t have to, while you processed and healed—”
“And I’ve processed,” she shot back, tone just as civil but with an increasingly sharp edge. “I’ve turned myself inside out, ripped myself to shreds, rebuilt myself from the ground up, and done it all over again. And now I’m ready to re-evaluate my position. Both of our positions.”
“There’s no need for you to trouble yourself with Parole,” Turret maintained. “As I said, it’s well in hand.”
“But I am troubled and we haven’t even gotten there yet.”
“You’d be a lot more if you knew what that place was really like.”
“All the more reason for me to have a look! I’m quite curious about how you’ve been holding down the fort.”
“As I said, Parole is under control and any remaining threats are being neutralized as we speak.”
“Really. Control, threats, neutralized. I suppose that does line up with what I’ve heard so far.” She almost laughed. “But why is it that I didn’t hear anything from you? Yes, I cut myself off from the rest of the world. They couldn’t reach me. But you certainly could. So tell me, why such a disparity? They couldn’t all be lying. Could they?”
The Lifeline Signal Page 35