Rules of Conflict

by Kristine Smith

  “I couldn’t—” Her throat ached, thinning her voice until it sounded like the clerk’s. “I couldn’t contact you before now. I wanted to. I even tried a few times, but—” She looked into the grey depth of the display. “I’ll explain, someday soon.” She dropped her gaze. “If you want to listen.

  “Say hello to Mirelle. And Yves. And tell Labat that if he’s making book on my sentence, whatever he guessed, he guessed high.” She doubted that line would get past the censors, but no harm in trying, especially if the thought of a light sentence might give her parents some peace of mind.

  The timer light pulsed faster. An alarm chirped. “I have to go.” She forced a smile. “I’m going to watch a friend’s match tomorrow. Everyone plays soccer when the Cup rounds are on. But I understand he’s quite good. He told me so himself, so it must be true.” She watched the timer count down, concentrating on the colors as she struggled to keep her voice steady.

  Yellow. There’s this man, Maman.

  Orange. I thought he died because of my mistakes, but now I think he’s alive, and I don’t know what to do.

  “I love you.” She waved weakly. “Au revoir.” She watched the timer flutter red and wink out.

  She sat in the dark and tried to collect her thoughts. Her heart skipped as a pounding knock fractured the silence.

  Lucien dogged her elbow as soon as she stepped into the hall. “He told me so himself, so it must be true. I agree with your remark about halfbacks, though—small thanks for little favors. Who the hell is Yves?”

  “What did you do, flash your Intelligence ID at the control room door and muscle in?”

  “Better me than standard censors.” He leaned close. “I let through the line about the short sentence. Feel free to thank me again.” He eyed her expectantly. “Yves?”

  Jani brushed past the Communication annex’s single lift and pushed open the door to the stairwell. “I went to school with him. Just a friend.”

  “He must have been some friend if you’re saying hello after twenty years.” Lucien’s voice bounced off the painted walls, drowning out the clatter of their hard soles on the stairs.

  “Mirelle’s an old school friend, too.”

  “Hmm.” Mirelle didn’t interest him.

  “Labat runs the local off-track.” Jani led the way through the building’s clunky double doors. “When I joined the Service, he laid four to one I wouldn’t make it through OCS.”

  “Did he ever give you a reason why?”

  “He said I never met an argument I didn’t like.” Jani ignored Lucien’s not-so-muffled guffaw.

  Noise and officers packed the South Central from wall to wall. Casuals and summerweights stood three deep at the bar—Lucien executed cuts and weaves that offered an enlightening preview of the next day’s match. Jani, meanwhile, staked out the sole empty table, a wobbly two-seater with a commanding view of the men’s room door.

  “Place is a madhouse.” Lucien set down the drinks, followed by a basket of popcorn. “You should have told your parents hello from me. Let them think you’re having fun.”

  Jani stared glumly at her fruit soda, interspersed with a few envious peeks at Lucien’s beer. I wish I could get drunk. Hoot and holler and roll up the rugs. Find a warm, hard body who’d be as happy to vanish with the dawn as she would be to let him.

  “Heard anything about Hals?” Lucien shifted his chair so he could watch the door, the ’Vee match, and the room panorama all at the same time.

  “No.” Jani picked at the popcorn. “I wish Eiswein would tell us something—the pressure’s building, and people are starting to snap.”

  “Who’s next in line?”

  “Guy named Vespucci. Major. Doesn’t like me a bit.”

  “What did he have to say?”

  “Nothing. I don’t think he left his office all day.” Jani had been relieved that she didn’t have to put up with Vespucci’s accusing glares, but it did bother her that he didn’t try to rally the troops behind their absent leader.

  “Think he’s a pouter?” Lucien clucked in disgust. “It’s always fun to have a pouter in the department. They want people to come to them, and when no one does, they crawl in a hole and seal the entrance.” He took a swallow of beer. “Funny he didn’t send Hals’s adjutant around with the ‘I’m in charge’ announcement. That kind usually does.”

  Jani squinted in the direction of the ’Vee screen to try to see who played. But the haze from multiple flavors of nicsticks hung in the air and seeped into her films, stinging her eyes and blurring her vision. “Ischi came to see me, but he said he hadn’t checked with Vespucci about anything.”

  “He came to you?” Lucien’s arm stopped in mid-swig. “Really?” He set the bottle down slowly. “Hals talk to you a lot?”

  “Not too much.”

  “She took your advice about bucking Burkett, though, didn’t she?” He nodded knowingly. “And your advice ran opposite Vespucci’s, I bet.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “He thinks you’ve end-arounded him. He’s jealous.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  “I’ve seen it before.” Lucien waved a sage finger. “You have to nip this in the bud. If Hals doesn’t show up tomorrow morning, you need to go to Vespucci and ask his advice.”

  “He won’t give me the time of day.”

  “Nah, he sounds like the gloating type. You’ll want to punch him in the mouth by the time you’re through, but at least people will know order’s been restored.” He shrugged at the look of profound dismay on Jani’s face. “Sorry, that’s the way it is.”

  Oh goody—something to look forward to. Jani sipped her fruit juice. Carbonated, which did nasty things to her still-achy stomach, and much too sweet. She stood up and surveyed the surrounding tables in search of a spice dispenser, her eye scanning for shape without transmitting details to her brain. When she finally realized who sat across the room at the far end of the bar, she barely ducked in her seat in time to avoid being seen.

  Niall Pierce was alone. People crowded him from every side, but that didn’t make a difference. You could always tell. The eyes focused straight ahead. The hunched shoulders. The only communication between him and what filled his glass.

  You look the way I feel. It crossed Jani’s mind that he might have waited outside Documents Control for her to emerge and then followed her to the Misty Center, then here. The thought didn’t bother her as much as it should have. She watched him sit still and silent, then tipped her soda imperceptibly in his direction, a toast to their shared misery.

  Chapter 19

  Jani left Lucien on her doorstep, pleading fatigue and the need to prepare herself to play supplicant to Vespucci. He looked dubious but departed quietly, leaving her with the promise to stop by at 0730 to take her to breakfast.

  She talked to Val the Bear about Sam Duong. Wondered what Borgie’s take on Lucien would have been. Slept fitfully. Dreamed of drowning again, Neumann’s jolly chuckle providing background music.

  Oh-five up found her suffering the wide-awake lassitude of the truly exhausted—too numb to sleep, too enervated to rise. She got up anyway, showered and dressed in a plodding daze, and departed the TOQ just as the sun began its creep above the lake horizon.

  She bought breakfast at a kiosk, then dumped it in the trash untouched. Watched a frazzled lieutenant endure an impromptu inspection by two A&S-holes with recording boards. Kept a weary eye open for Pierce as she trudged to Documents Control, arriving just in time to meet Vespucci coming from the opposite direction. She saluted. “Good morning, Major.”

  “Captain.” Vespucci returned the salute grudgingly, then hurriedly mounted the steps.

  Oh no, you don’t! Energized by a jolt of anger, Jani chased him up the steps and through the entry, finally catching up to him by the lift bank. “I wondered if you’d heard anything from Colonel Hals, sir.”

  Vespucci’s face brightened in surprise. “You mean she hasn’t been in touch with you?” He drew up straighter, t
he first glimmerings of smugness imbuing his fleshy features. “She called me first thing yesterday morning. Meetings with General Eiswein all day yesterday. Hammering out proposals for a revamping of Foreign Transactions.”

  Jani stepped aboard the lift, her benumbed brain struggling to wedge that tidbit amid all the others. You were in contact with her yesterday and you didn’t tell anyone! Lucien had overestimated her tolerance. They hadn’t even entered the office, and she already felt like punching Vespucci.

  Instead, she stepped to the front of the car and concentrated on the control-panel lights. Red, of course. Not the smartest decision to stare at them, considering her current state. Screw it, she thought, as the indicators flickered. The fatigue faded from her limbs as she rode the glow. “What else did she have to say, sir?”

  “That’s confidential, Captain.”

  “Can you at least say if she’s—” —under arrest? “—if she’s well, sir?”

  “As well as can be expected, considering the trouble you stage-managed her into.” The lift stopped—Vespucci crowded out the door as soon as it opened wide enough and bustled down the hall. “You may think that Academy mystique of yours fools people, but some of us know a destructive malcontent when we see one.”

  Jani’s tietops slid on the slick flooring as she wheeled around the corner. “Whatever you think of me, sir, the rest of FT deserves to hear something. Is the department breakup on hold? Are folks going to be shipped out to colonial postings tomorrow?”

  “We were ordered to sit tight and continue at our jobs, Captain. That’s all anyone needs to know right now.” Vespucci strode through the desk pool, ignoring the hopeful “good morning, sirs” that greeted his appearance.

  Jani glanced around the desk-pool area. Already, the paper mail had piled up in the collection boxes, and dirty dispo cups and plates littered desktops and tables. The coffee odor permeating the air had that sharp, stale tang. The high gloss had dulled already, and Hals had only been gone a little over a day. Ah, shit. Vespucci showed his worth by allowing it to happen, but he was all they had to work with right now, and it was apparently up to her to nudge him into his designated mooring. I’ve become a diplomat. And she had about two seconds to figure out the drill.

  I hate this. She pulled up beside Vespucci as he palmed his doorlock. “Sir, if I could be allowed to make a suggestion?” She waited, her teeth grinding as Vespucci hesitated in his open doorway. She could see the mechanisms turning, his eyes flicking back and forth as he weighed his options. You self-serving son of a bitch. “I don’t possess the authority to speak to them, sir. They’re waiting to hear something from you.”

  “Ischi spoke with you yesterday.” His voice held the barest tinge of verbal pout. “I saw him go into your office.”

  “Lieutenant Ischi brought me my mail, sir, as I’m sure he did yours.”

  “I didn’t—” Vespucci stopped.

  You didn’t let him in the door because you’re mad at him for liking me. “Sir, this is your department until Colonel Hals returns. I understand completely that I am in no position to presume any sort of authority. I am, of course, available to provide any advice you might wish—” the words ran together as he stiffened “—but I know where I stand.” Her head pounded. “Please, sir.”

  That was the magic word. Vespucci shot her a superior smile. “A little different, dealing with a real department instead of that fly-by-night collection of losers you worked with, isn’t it, Kilian?” He sauntered into his office and tossed his briefbag on his desk. “Give me a few minutes. Have everyone gather in the anteroom.”

  Jani flexed her left hand, the one hidden from Vespucci’s sight. Formed a fist. Forced it open. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “—and the colonel requests I let you know that as soon as these rather intense meetings are over, she will be back in her office, just in time for our annual performance evaluations.” Vespucci grinned at the chorus of mock moans and groans that greeted that portion of his announcement. His pleasure seemed genuine. He liked being the center of attention and the fountain of all Service wisdom, and his delight filled the room.

  The group dissolved into happy gabble. Three of the techs jostled to sort the mail, while two others disassembled the brewer. And peace reigned again in the valley. All Jani had to do was roll over on her back, expose her throat, and point out the targets.

  Ischi wandered up to her, his face lightened by a subdued grin. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Major Vespucci is second-in-command here, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His eyes shone with wisdom beyond his tender years as he jerked a thumb toward the gurgling brewer. “Coffee?”

  Jani bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Why, thank you, Lieutenant. Just let me get my cup.”

  Jani sipped from her Central United mug, and grumbled foul words in Acadian as she scanned the report she had transmitted to Hals’s system the night before. Vespucci, now sufficiently persuaded as to his worth to do his job, had taken it upon himself to make changes that would have resulted in the document being bounced back from Legal within the time it took an outraged paralegal to smash his fist into his touchboard. She deleted one of his “corrections,” ignoring her bleating comport until the fifth squawk.

  Lucien’s face in no way resembled the sunny visage she had come to know. More overcast, with a threat of storm. “Where were you this morning?”

  “I peeled out early.” She tapped her board again, deleting a phrase that would have resulted in twelve crates of cabinets being classified as small arms. “I was nervous.”

  “You?” He wadded a sheet of paper and bounced it off his display. “How did it go?”

  “Hals had spoken to Vespucci yesterday morning. He sat on it the whole damned day.”

  “A pouter. I knew it.” He smiled proudly, a professor watching his valedictorian strut across the stage. “But you charmed it out of him.”

  “I feel like I need a shower.”

  “Want some company?”

  “Good-bye.” Jani thumped the disconnect with a fast chop of her open hand, then returned to debugging her report.

  Her comport squawked again. This time, she caught it on the first alarm. “Damn it, Lucien, leave—!” She choked back the balance as she found herself staring at Frances Hals’s puzzled countenance.

  “Good morning, Captain.”

  “Ma’am!”

  “I’m still alive.”

  “We were beginning to have our doubts.”

  Hals offered a tired grin. “So was I.” She massaged the back of her neck. “Things started out badly. But once Eiswein realized you were right and Foreign Transactions had legitimate cause to complain about how Diplo treated us in this matter, it was all over but the drafting of the formal report.” She stared out of the display. “You look surprised, Captain.”

  The only thing worse than taking the shot is finding out you took it for nothing. “I only heard about a meeting with Eiswein and a revamp of FT, ma’am.”

  Hals ran a hand across her eyes. “When?”

  “This morning, ma’am. I spoke with Major Vespucci and requested he address the department. People were starting to get edgy, if you know what I mean.”

  “I told him to use his discretion. Unfortunately, he takes that as permission to keep his mouth shut.” Hals’s look of tired disgust didn’t bode well for Vespucci’s future in FT. “Things are in the draft stage, so I can’t be too specific about details. Suffice it to say, General Eiswein was extremely interested to hear all the things I had to say about how the idomeni regard documents examiners. I haven’t spent the past day and a half getting my ass chewed on. I’ve spent it helping to assemble a proposal that should, if it gets past the Administrative flag, result in FT being reclassified as a Diplomatic adjunct.”

  Jani laughed. “Burkett will flip.”

  “Serves him right. The day the first of my people start Dip School is going to be one happy day for me.” She stared off to the side, her
expression pensive. “Do you understand any German, Kilian?”

  “Very little, ma’am. Enough Hortensian to get by.”

  “Does Scheißkopf mean what I think it means?”

  Shithead! Luckily, coffee beaded nicely on summerweight polywool. “Yes, ma’am, I believe it does,” Jani said as she dabbed at her trousers with a dispo.

  Hals nodded. “Eiswein muttered that a lot when I told her how Burkett tried to lock us down.” She yawned again. She looked like she’d been wrung out and tossed in a corner to dry. “I’m exhausted. I need a shower and a hot meal and about ten hours’ sleep.”

  “Would you like me to do a room sweep and bring you some gear?”

  “No, thank you. My husband brought me a kit. He’s a civilian, but he’s learned to pack in a rush with the best of them.”

  Jani started. “I didn’t know you were married, ma’am.”

  “Nineteen years.” Hals’s face closed. “The past few weeks have made for an interesting time.”

  “Children?”

  “Three. All in prep school.” The dulling in her eyes hinted at the pressure the situation had brought to bear on her life outside Sheridan. “We’re on our way to getting this straightened out. Can’t come soon enough. I hope to be back in the office in a few days.”

  “My Office Hours with Burkett is scheduled for tomorrow.” Jani knew she couldn’t discuss the matter with Hals per se, but a hint that she could anticipate a cancellation of the little get-together would have done wonders for her mood.

  “Yes.” Hals’s dour countenance gave away nothing. “He may try to get his last licks in. I understand he’s working up a head of steam over rumors he has heard that aren’t really rumors a’tall.” Her thin smile allowed a glimpse of an agreeably vile sense of humor, but the curtain soon fell. “We didn’t do our careers any favors, but we did our jobs, and the entire department is going to benefit from it. It’s a good feeling.” She nodded. “Captain.”