About 1800 hours, Millie collapsed on the tarp with arms and legs outstretched and released a long sigh. She eyed Zimbin as he walked over with a paper bag in his hand. Tapping her with his foot he held it out to her. “We’re all drawing numbers for the envirodomes, Millie, Aurelia’s orders. The first thirty two are the lucky ones.”
Propping herself up on one elbow, Millie reached for the bag, but Zimbin held it back. He eyed her hopefully. “Doc didn’t draw. Said she would take a sleeping bag,” Zimbin informed her.
“So? What, as head nurse I’m supposed to be noble and self-sacrificing? Forget it, bub. Give me that thing.” Reaching up, Millie dipped her hand in the bag and brought out a yellow plastic disc with a number on it. She glanced at it and groaned, “Thirty-three! I say this thing is rigged.”
“Not at all,” Zimbin replied. “A Berellian is always honest.”
“And what number did you get?”
“Well, gotta go.” Zimbin scrunched the bag closed and lumbered off.
“May your envirodome lose power and collapse on your head during the night!” Millie called after him.
“I got gypped too,” said Bridget as she came up from behind Millie and sat down next to her. She held out a steaming mug, “Reconstituted chili, want some? Or are you going into town?”
“I’m not moving from this spot the rest of the night.” Millie gratefully took the mug and started eating.
“I offered some to Dr. Aurelia, but she just glared at me,” said Bridget with a sigh.
Millie shrugged. “Just ignore her. She’s in her silent mode again. It happens quite frequently.”
Turning over on her stomach, Brid picked at the purple grass at the edge of the tarp. “This isn’t exactly what I expected,” she admitted. She stuck a piece of grass in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “It seems like we’ve been shuffled here and there with everybody yelling at us and I haven’t learned a thing. I just feel so dumb.”
Millie smiled and slid an arm around the girl’s shoulder. “You’re not supposed to know everything yet. That’s what this program is all about. Getting some on-the-job training, see if you even like it. Right?”
Bridget nodded in agreement but still looked doubtful. Millie drew a breath and continued, “Look, everybody on the Pasteur is more than willing to help you. All you have to do is ask. Most of us have been aboard for a long time and we all help each other.”
“What about Dr. Aurelia? I think she hates me. She scares me.”
“Aurelia is mostly bark.” Millie paused and smiled. “She’s only hit one intern in all the time I’ve known her.”
“She really hit somebody?”
“He refused to treat a patient and made some nasty racial remarks,” Millie explained. “I would have hit him myself if Aura hadn’t gotten there first.”
“What happened?”
“He sued but they settled out of court. He’s not working for GEM Co. anymore. But he’s the only one.”
Bridget still looked uncertain.
“Look, you may not believe it now but Aura would fight her way through a blizzard and a horde of Kartillions if she thought you needed help. She’d bitch about it but she’d do it.”
Laughing, Bridget raised an eyebrow, “That is a little hard to believe.”
“You’ll have to figure out how to handle the boss in your own way, but if you have a problem come to me first and I’ll do what I can, okay, hon?” Millie patted her on the back then picked up her cup of chili again.
“Thanks, Millie.” Bridget smiled then seemed to perk up, sitting up straight and folding her legs beneath her. “Say wouldn’t a bonfire be great?”
Millie yawned. “With everything so damp it might be hard to get it started,” she replied with another yawn.
“Well, I’m going to try.” Bridget got to her feet and walked over to talk to Zimbin.
Millie finished eating then stretched out on the tarp. Despite two Tridols, every muscle ached, and the scratch on her arm was irritating. She shifted onto her side and closed her eyes. Reopened them. Stop thinking about Neil Sanders, she told herself. Shifting to her other side, she saw Jak standing outside an envirodome trying to scrape dried mud off his uniform with a knife.
Jak saw her and gave her an exasperated look, pointing at the mud then at Millie.
Millie mouthed a kiss to him.
Sliding the knife back into his boot, Jak walked over and crouched down beside her.
Millie sat up, leaning back on one elbow. “Going to your date with Co-Lanen?”
“It’s not a date.”
Millie grinned. “I’m just teasing.”
Jak rolled his eyes. “I wanted to tell you that I saw Althan Tahk earlier today.”
“Oh? How’s his head?”
“I didn’t ask. Thought you should be warned that he’s planetside now.”
Millie shrugged. “He’s not so bad.”
“Mil! At the very least, he’s an assassin.”
“He’s sort of a nice assassin.”
“Millie!”
“Okay, okay,” Millie laughed. “I’ll be cautious. I would like to know what he and Renner Conlin are up to.”
“My advice? Stay away from both of them.”
Millie gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir. Oh, and good luck with Co-Lanen.”
Shaking his head, Jak stood up and walked away, heading for town.
Millie watched him walk down the hill then stretched out on the tarp again. If Tahk comes after me up here, he can have me. I’m too tired to move. That was her last thought before she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Twenty One
The streets of Zarnek were dark and deserted. Jak had passed Xanthy Court and was walking on Belm Street before he realized none of the streetlights were on. Stopping in the middle of the street, he craned his neck around. Jidal IV had three moons so there was plenty of light but none coming from buildings or houses.
Did everyone in town go to sleep this early?
Something flickered in a window to his left as if someone had moved a curtain. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Jak walked on, his own echoing footsteps sending a tingle through his antennae.
Halzen Court, when he reached it, was a sharp contrast to the stillness of the rest of town. Every light was on, talk and laughter spilled out from each restaurant carried along on a choking wave of clashing aromas. Yet here too, somewhere between the light and laughter, Jak felt something dark and angry. He could see it in a group of Sclarians who pushed past him, and felt it in the dark stares of the Jidalians.
Jak felt a rush of security when he saw Co-Lanen’s familiar figure at a window table in a Raman diner. Then his heart bumped up its beat as he paused just outside to watch her.
She looked more beautiful than she had just that morning. She had changed her hair style from the business-like bun to a complicated series of intricate braids with soft curls framing her face. With her face in profile he could trace the perfect symmetry of brow, nose and chin and admire the gold tone of her skin. She had the most delicate antennae he had ever seen. He well remembered the smooth, warm touch of them.
Jak jumped when Lanen leaned over and rapped on the window at him. She motioned to him and he entered the restaurant. The place was lavishly decorated unlike the usual Raman sense of ascetics. He judged the owner was probably not Raman and the food was probably not authentic.
Co-lanen must have noticed him looking around and reassured him, “The owner isn’t Raman but the food is absolutely first rate.”
Sliding into the seat opposite her, Jak waved an antennae. “I didn’t know you liked Raman cuisine.”
“You don’t know a lot about me.” Co-Lanen’s voice was dry. “I took the liberty of ordering for both of us,” she added, giving a high sign to someone behind Jak.
Jak unfolded his napkin, dropping his silverware on the table with a loud clatter. Without looking at Lanen, he straightened them then sprea
d his napkin in such a way that it covered a good deal of the dirt on his uniform. It looked dumb with three-fourths of it on his stomach instead of his lap but it was effective. When he finally glanced up, he saw she was smiling. “What?” he asked.
“I’ve never seen you so...so un-self-assured,” she replied.
“You’re not exactly making this easy,” Jak said. “We agreed to be friends but every time I’ve seen you in the past few years you’ve acted like...” he paused, searching for a word but every one he could think of would hardly put him in her favor. “So official,” he finished finally.
“I have to do my job without any favoritism. I am not a Councilor.”
“Yet,” Jak finished for her then grinned. “But do you know you’re beautiful when you’re being official?” As she blushed, he reached for her hand. He was beginning to remember how to snap her out of her primness.
Co-Lanen tugged at her hand but he held on and she didn’t struggle too hard. She opened her mouth to say something but their waiter arrived with a large tray that was almost too big for the anti-gravity unit holding it. It teetered slightly but the waiter quietly and quickly passed out the cold, frosted-over metal bowls, already starting to sweat on the outside with the change in temperature.
When the waiter left, Co-Lanen pressed both palms flat against the table and bent both antennae forward 45 degrees. Jak did the same. With smooth, precise movements that Jak enjoyed watching, Co-Lanen picked up the bowl with the main course in it and held it out to him. Jak took one piece, broke it in half, ate his portion and carefully placed the other on Co-Lanen’s plate. He straightened both antennae. Then Co-Lanen, still with intricate movements, filled both their plates. When she was finished, she again placed her palms flat on the table then straightened her antennae.
Jak was glad she had chosen only the eight minute Kan-line blessing.“You were right,” he said with his mouth full, his chin tipped up just a bit so the juice wouldn’t run out. “I don’t think I’ve had better food on Rama itself. I’ve always wondered why such an aggressive race is vegetarian.”
Twenty minutes passed with very little conversation as the mounds of food disappeared. When both were finished and sipping fizzy, peach-like drinks, Jak reached for Co-Lanen’s hand again but this time she eluded him.
“Ja-ka-thon, we need to talk seriously. I didn’t pick this place just for the food. I know we won’t be overheard here.” As if to belie her own words, she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “What did you think of the meeting this morning?”
“I’m not sure what to think. I did find out something today.”
“What is it?”
“There’s this Kosapi named Althan Tahk.”
“A Kosapi?” Co-Lanen interrupted. “Are you sure? No one by that name has registered with my office.”
“I doubt that he would.” Jak took a drink then continued. “He’s been on the station working with Renner Conlin. He’s our chief negotiator.”
“I know Mr. Conlin.”
“Even Aurelia and Millie have been wondering what they’re doing.”
“Those are the two females you work with?”
“Right.” Was there just a hint of jealousy in Co-Lanen’s tone? Jak leaned forward putting his hand just within reach of hers.
Co-Lanen leaned back, putting her hand under her chin. “I suppose they could have legitimate business.”
“The odd thing is, at least this is what Aurelia told me, Tahk has a PEF card.”
“Which is?”
“It’s a, uhmm, well basically it’s a GEM Co. account card. Every employee has one. Tahk has an A card which means he can draw funds from the general account, millions even billions of dollars.”
Co-Lanen’s antennae twitched. “Now I am interested. What else do you know about him?”
“I saw him this morning, here, talking to a Sclarian.” Jak paused as the waiter refilled their glasses.
“A Sclarian? Do you have any idea of the tension building around here?”
“I got some idea walking over here.”
“We had an incident not two hours ago. A gang of Sclarians smashed up one of our stores.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“No, but Dulan Minal is threatening to evict us.”
“He does that and this whole planet’s economy will go to Gedden.”
“Maybe but I’m not so sure we can avoid a catastrophe.” Co-Lanen raised her glass to her lips and took a long drink.
Jak tapped his fingers on the table. Co-Lanen was not the doom and gloom sort so if she was worried there was something to be worried about. Leaning forward again, he asked, “Did you get the final engineering report on the dikes?”
Co-Lanen nodded. “No mechanical failure. The engineers were angry and I am sure they have contributed to the hostility toward the Sclarians.”
“Everyone seems to think everyone else has this secret weapon.”
“I can’t figure it out. There were no sub-ion emissions found either.”
“There has to be something. When I saw Tahk and that Sclarian this morning they were talking about a weapon. Tahk said something about the humans wanting it.”
“The humans are involved with this too?”
Jak shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know. Conlin maybe. But let me finish. I followed the Sclarian to a house. It was an address, uh,” Jak paused, thinking. “On Olgdon Court. I looked it up later. It belongs to a human named Robert Miller.”
Both of Co-Lanen’s antennae twitched.
“What?” Jak asked.
“I’ve been watching Miller. He has some very questionable dealings.” Co-Lanen looked around the room though there were only two other patrons in the restaurant. “Three months ago some weapons grade loron was stolen from a Kaprinian company called Axon.”
“Miller stole it?”
“Miller received it. He would not have been able to bypass all the DNA security locks.” Co-Lanen’s voice dropped into a whisper. “I’ve traced ownership of Axon to one of the councilors. I just can’t find out which one.”
“A councilor?” Jak hissed. “You’re telling me a councilor is behind this?”
Co-Lanen nodded, not looking at all happy.
“You better stop right now, Lanen.” Accusing a councilor of wrongdoing could be disastrous not only for her career but for herself and her family.
“I can’t stop. Especially now you’ve told me the humans are involved too. Jak, I feel like I peeked under a pebble and found a gaping hole.”
Jak swallowed the last drop of his drink down hard. Suddenly sitting across from him was the Co-Lanen he remembered. The warm, passionate crusader, not the cool official intent on her career. Certainly not the polite stranger who had informed him that she would not reach Zannath with him and walked out of his life.
“You will help me, Jak?”
“Of course.” He reached for her hand again but she pulled it back.
“Jak, my asking you for help does not mean that...anything.”
“Sorry, I thought...”
“Don’t you remember why we said goodbye?”
Jak straightened both antennae. Stomach churning, he rose to his feet. “Oh I remember. You have to carry on a line and mine dies with me.
His laugh was bitter. “I’m a failed genetic experiment. You know, my grandmother is one of the most wonderful people I know, but there are times when I hate her. Good night, Co-lanen.” He turned and brushed past a party of Ramans who were just entering the restaurant.
Outside, darkness had fallen and the night had turned cold. Jak shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped into the street. He passed his hand across his eyes and kept walking, taking the opposite direction from camp.
Chapter Twenty Two
Steve Miller yawned. He was tired and sore but not yet ready to sleep. Looking around camp, he shook his head. Bridget O’Connor and the other geedos were building a campfire. Next thing they’d all
be singing songs. He tugged on his boots and headed for town.
Olgdon Court held a number of wealthy homes far removed from the flood. The Millers’ house was a low, yellow pre-fab at the far end. Steve and his father had moved to Jidal IV after the death of Mrs. Miller when Steve was twelve. Robert Miller had no employment but plenty of ready money and knew everyone worth knowing on the planet. Steve had never asked for many details about his father’s activities; he was sure he didn’t want to know about most of them.
As he walked to the gate of the house, Steve glanced around. A lot more security had been added since the last time he had been home, including what he thought was a pressure-sensitive rafter array on the fence. With a low whistle, he pressed in his code on the gate computer. As he suspected, it had been changed but a retina scanner checked him and the lock clicked open.
Robert Miller met his son at the door with a hearty handshake. “Come on in, son. I expected you sooner.”
“The chief surgeon is a first class Cygnian colo,” Steve replied as he bent down to slip off his muddy boots in the green-tiled hallway.
“Whoa! Better watch your language. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
Facing his father, Steve asked, “Are you in some kind of trouble, Dad? I noticed all the extra security.”
“Just being cautious.” They stepped down into the sunken living room. Every piece of furniture was designed for comfort--thick cushions and wide seats on the two couches and three armchairs. The light maroon carpeting was made out of Durangian fur in which feet sank up to the ankles. Most of the wall decorations had to do with hunting and led the eye to the huge fireplace over which proudly hung a pair of 30-point antlers from a Matian Mohan.
Scooping up a handful of grapes from the fruit bowl on the coffee-table, Steve plopped down lengthwise on the couch nearest the fireplace. “She’s been working us like dogs.”
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