by H. E. Trent
She took a deep breath. “Yes. Display.”
As the news items queued up, Court said a little prayer to whichever god would hear it. Please let these references be about me. There might have been some article about that smash-up with Tim.
Again, no such luck.
The topmost hit listed Owen and Erin’s names in the headline. They’d been arrested for breaking and entering, only to be released when they proved they had a right to Court’s house. Apparently, her house was being monitored.
Court brought up the next item. Owen was arrested again a week later after getting into an altercation with an unnamed “victim.” Court’s gut said that victim probably had something to do with her failed engagement.
The next article confirmed that. Erin was taken into custody after confronting Reg outside the courthouse, only to be released on bond.
“Fuck.”
“What happened?” Murk asked.
“My sister and brother are in Buinet. Both were arrested. Someone paid my sister’s bond. Couldn’t have been my parents. They wouldn’t have been able to access that kind of cash fast enough, and the only other person who knew they were coming was Brenna.”
“Is Brenna still in jail?”
“Let me see if I can find anything recent about her.” The most recent article tagged with Brenna’s name that Court could find in a search was from only three weeks past. “Looks like her attorney filed for an appeal.”
“Could your friend Amy have put up the money?”
“Maybe. But, why would she? She doesn’t know Brenna.”
“I suppose there’s no reason to hide the truth from you any longer.”
“What truth?”
“Amy is Jekhan.”
“That’s impossible. She—”
Court clamped her lips on the statement, because she didn’t really know how to complete it. She could say that Amy was too pale or too human, but that was her own prejudice getting in the way.
If Court had learned anything in the past year, she’d learned that Jekhans came in a wide array of hues, just like Terrans. And Amy wore a dump truckload of makeup. Perhaps there was a reason.
“She’s…Jekhan? I can’t wrap my mind around that.”
“It was a hell of secret to have kept.”
“And she hadn’t thought I was trustworthy enough to be let in on the secret?”
“Put yourself in her shoes. Like you, she has reasons not to assume the best of people. She considers you a friend, but she did ask us not to tell you what she was.”
“That hurts.” Court was surprised at how much that hurt. She should have been used to people not letting her in, but Amy had reached out to her—not the other way around.
Court closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t being fair. Amy was entitled to her fear. Her world had gone to shambles around her, and Court represented the very people who’d done the job.
“Amy was the daughter of a very important political figure,” Murk said. “Our last minister.”
“Who’s dead, I’m guessing?” Court opened her eyes in time to see him nod.
“She’s slumming,” Court said. “Passing, is what Terrans would call what she’s doing.”
“She likely doesn’t see where she has much of a choice but to pass, and I might have tried to do the same if I could have. We’ve all done things we normally wouldn’t in order to survive.”
“Like…killing people.”
Murk laced his fingers together in front of Kerry and nodded slowly. “Yes. And I’m sorry, but I’d do it again if I had to, and would probably still feel no remorse. I worry that you think my behavior is without bounds or that I don’t still have ethics when I’m angry. My ethics never change. I hope you can accept me as I am. Bloodlust and all.”
“That scares me a little, Murki, because I don’t understand it. I want to understand it. But I also believe that you don’t hurt people with premeditation. You’ve got triggers just like me. Hopefully, you won’t ever have to have them pulled again.”
He bowed slightly to her. “Let us hope. What else does the news item say?”
Nudging the hair out of her eyes, she looked down at the tablet. “The other McGarry reference is simply an update of Owen’s movement through the criminal system. He’s…” She took a deep breath and forced down some nauseous bile. “He’s currently being held in medium security, waiting for the kangaroo court to convict him.”
“And of our new friend Allan?”
“Show hits for Allan Rowe,” she said to the computer.
She held her breath as the hits filed onto the screen, letting her shoulders fall to their natural position when she realized they were all old. “They’re all from the time of his desertion. I could read more closely to see if there are any references to people that look like him or Trig, but it wouldn’t make a difference.”
“You want to go there, don’t you?”
“I don’t see where I have a choice. This mess is my fault. My sister is in the wind and doesn’t know how to navigate the system here. Brenna is probably terrified. My brother is the kind of asshole who can take care of himself on the inside of a prison, but someone needs to get him out.”
“You can’t go without a plan. Fuck, you shouldn’t go at all. You’ve got—”
“A baby to nurse. Yes. And I plan to be nursing her for some time to come. This doesn’t have to take a long time. With good planning, I can get in and out. There are enough ex-military members around here who’d help me. They like me for some reason.”
Murk made a moue of disgust. “I suspect part of that reason is on your chest.”
She grinned at him, which only seemed to pique him more. “They’re men. What do you expect? We could rendezvous with Trig and Allan. I’m certain they’re keeping an eye on things, wherever they are. Maybe Doc has some insights into where they might be taking cover, and they’ll know what the risks are right now.”
Murk sighed. “Courtney.”
“I have to do this. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do. I just wish you didn’t. I can’t protect you there, my love.”
My love.
Yes.
She nodded in acknowledgement. That was right. She was his love, which meant they had a future together at stake.
But the future wouldn’t be very complete without Trig.
“Just take care of Kerry,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “That’s your job while I’m gone. Complete access with no interruptions from Mama.”
He didn’t even crack a smile. Granted, she hadn’t expected him to find the scenario funny.
“I love my daughter more than my life, but if you think Kerry will make me forget the space you fill in my life, you’re sorely mistaken, Madam Beshni.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Buinet was in upheaval, partially of Trig’s making.
He was instigating—riling up the huddled masses so they’d fight back—but his compassion was dragging him down. If he didn’t care so damned much, he could get back to the farm already—with his daughter and his lovers—but he couldn’t leave people behind. The Tyneali did that to them enough already.
He moved stealthily along the river wall, occasionally standing upright for long enough to reorient himself, but for the most part moved quickly at a crouch. Zone Seven was on heavy patrol and half-evacuated. Many of the residents, including Captain, were being pushed out of town and left up to their own devices out in the wild. The ones that struggled—and being Jekhan there were only a few who would—were either dead or in the jails, which were bursting at the seams.
Where the hell did all the settlers come from all of a sudden?
At a small white dot painted on the stone ledge, he lowered himself over the side, dropped down into the river, and swam beneath the aquifer where Allan waited.
“What did you do with Esteben?” Allan asked, treading water.
The wild man. Trig would have given his hair a tug if he h
adn’t needed both arms to swim. “I passed him off to Erin. She’s going to try to keep him contained at Courtney’s house for the moment. She’s under heavy surveillance, so the solution is a very temporary one. We need to get them out of here.”
“But Erin’s not going to leave without Owen.”
“Right. Even though he told her to do otherwise.”
“Sounds like she’s as stubborn as her sister,” Allan said.
The McGarry genes definitely seemed to carry some observable behavioral quirks. But, if anyone could handle Murk’s brother in the state he was in, it was Erin. Erin had taken one look at Esteben and known the last thing he needed was gentle treatment. He was angry and confused and feral. Although they’d spent so many years living under the same roof, Trig had barely recognized Esteben when he’d been slipping through the chaos in Seven. He didn’t recognize Trig, either, but then again, he didn’t seem to recognize much of anything.
Whatever illness he had, there’d likely be no easy cure for.
Water pelted into Trig’s face as another body hit the water, feet-first. The dark-eyed man surfaced, sighed his relief and swam over.
Heavy bags hung beneath Herris’s eyes, and his cheeks were even more hollowed than the last time they’d met. Trig knew better than to make verbal note of his condition. Trig had probably looked much the same way when his family was wiped out overnight. All Herris had left was his daughter, and he even wasn’t certain where she was. She’d been taken during the evictions, along with the bodies of his wife and lover who’d both succumbed to some illness, and not The Ague.
Allan had said the illness was a virulent flu that’d been engineered to kill. It’d been leftover from the initial conflict and repurposed for the Terrans’ second wind. The more Tyneali DNA a Jekhan had, the worse off they were.
Trig would probably never stop thanking the gods for the fact Murk hadn’t caught it.
“Worried you wouldn’t be here,” Allan said to Herris.
Herris gave his head a slight shake. “I had to wait until the patrol guards changed shifts.”
“What did you find out?”
“Most of the refugees are heading south toward the barren lands. There are some abandoned settlements there they may be able to salvage. It’s a hard place to live, but the Terrans wouldn’t harass them there. The refugees would be living mostly underground.”
“How many are turning back to help?”
“Unfortunately, not many.”
“Shit.”
“Is that not to be expected? All of our strongest fighters were imprisoned fifteen or more years ago. We don’t have much of a chance to turn the tides without them.”
“They’re all being held in the same place. Out near the port, right?”
Herris nodded. “The facility is impenetrable, though. I can’t imagine how anyone could get close.”
“It’s not impenetrable,” Allan said. “Remember, I was here when the prison was built. I know all the ins and outs. If I weren’t concerned about being immediately identified, I could get myself into general population and work up a little fervor, but I suspect every guard there would know my face and shoot on sight.”
“They wouldn’t know my face,” Trig said.
Herris arched a brow. “Certainly, you’re not volunteering for what might amount to a suicide mission, are you?”
“That’s a Jekhan way of thinking. Being around Courtney in the past year has shifted my viewpoints on a lot of things. I’m not handing myself over. I’m going in to raise hell, and I plan to come out unscathed.” He sounded confident, but the strength in his voice belied his fears. Running and hiding would have been easier, but that too many people had already done that. Running and hiding was why he no longer recognized the world he’d once thrived on.
He found courage in the fact that if his scheme went poorly and he didn’t walk out of it at the end, Murk would be taken care of. He and Court had each other and the support of everyone in Little Gitano. They’d be fine without him. Eventually, Murk would figure out how to care for a woman like her and Courtney would learn to surf Murk’s passionate moods. They’d have to. They needed each other.
“So, it’s settled?” Allan asked. “You’re going in?”
“I’m going in,” Trig agreed. “Just tell me what I should do once I’m in there.”
___
Court crouched in a deserted alleyway near her house in Buinet and gave her hibernating wrist com a double-tap. Thanks to the scrambling effect of the cuff Amy had given her, Court had few fears about her signal being tracked. She just needed to worry about human observation.
The com warmed up, clicked, and beeped.
“Courtney?” came Amy’s whispered voice.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Gods, where are you?”
“In Buinet, at the moment, trying to find my people.” Which included Amy.
Nearby, something hit the ground with a loud thud, and Court moved back into the shadows, letting out a relieved breath when she saw the rat knocking around an empty flowerpot.
Just a plain-old rat. Rodents must have come from Earth the same way the human rats did.
“You’re in Buinet?” Amy asked.
“Mm-hmm. My sister and brother are here somewhere, as are Trigrian and a new friend. Everything’s a mess. There was some kind of riot and now they’re clearing out Seven.”
“Yeah. The rioting started small after you left and got bigger. I don’t know what the trigger was, but it was angry. I should know. I’m here.”
“In Seven?”
“No, at home. I was supposed to go out on the next shuttle to Earth, but I’m…I don’t want to leave my house. I’m scared.”
“I imagine you are. Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“Who I… I mean…”
“I know, Amy. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she whispered.
“Why did you think I would care? You didn’t care about what stock I come from. I would have done you the same courtesy.”
“People would expect more from me if they knew who I was, but I can’t be what they want. It’s easier to hide and hope no one pays you any attention than it is to fight or run.”
“You’re afraid, and that’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up over that. We all have our limits.”
“But I’m supposed to be better,” Amy said on a sob. “I was supposed to be a leader, but look at me.”
“Yeah, look at you. You lived and so many others didn’t.”
“I don’t know if I can be proud of that. That’s not enough!”
“You think making yourself a martyr will help? So you didn’t do anything to help before. Big deal. You’re here now, right?”
“Right.” Amy sounded uncertain.
Court just needed her to hang on.
“Amy, I’m going to get you out of here. I promise I’ll take care of you, but right now, can I count on you for some help?”
Amy chocked down a sob. “I’ll do my best. What do you need?”
Court smiled. “That a girl. Fake it until you make it, okay? Listen, I flew in with some friends from Little Gitano. A couple of Terran deserters. They’re moving in a grid trying to search out familiar faces. I’m the one who has to do the heavy lifting, though. This is all on me. What I need right now is information.”
“What sort?”
“I need to know where Reg Devin lives. I know he’s on the planet right now. Any information you could—”
“Oh, that’s too easy.” Amy snarled. “When my kind was pushed out, his family moved into our home. I pass by often, just to torture myself, I guess. I imagine he resides there when he’s on the surface.”
“Where is it?”
“I’ll meet you and show you where the house is, but I can’t promise—”
“I don’t need you to make me any promises, dear. I’m not expecting you to do anything you’re not capable of. Just get me ne
ar him, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Amy let out a ragged breath and pulled some in. “Ok. Um… Meet me in front of my place? I’m at the corner of Sage and Moore. Practically a ghost town around here. It’s scary.”
“Just hang on. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Please hurry.”
Court was already running.
___
Court waved Amy away as she crouched behind a concrete bench across the street from the former Mauren residence. By Jekhan standards, the building was a stately one. Not precisely mansion-sized, but larger than typical. It had probably once been a tasteful abode, but certain finishings had been added that had the telltale thumbprint of a Terran architect. Garish blue shutters. Grecian-style columns up to the second story that propped up the extension’s roof. The home was a hodgepodge of styles ranging from Jekhan to Colonial plantation. Evidence of new money and little taste, as far as Court was concerned.
Amy, beside her, stood firm. She seemed to have compensated for her added stress by wearing a little extra makeup. The coating made her paler than usual, and hadn’t been applied with her usually skillful hand. It was rushed—sloppy. She was afraid, but she’d come out anyway. That was true bravery.
Court squeezed her hand. “Go. Once I go to that door, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m still here. Someone should know where you are.”
“I might be able to do something about that.” She gave her com band a double-tap. “Connect with my house.”
“Done,” the tinny voice said.
“Are there any com signals in the house besides the house’s itself?” Court asked it.
“Yes. One.”
“Can you identify who it belongs to?”
“No.”
Hmm.
“Probably doesn’t belong to anyone from Buinet, then,” Amy whispered. “Those frequencies would all be on record.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.” Court had snuck over to her house a couple of times, but didn’t want to get close enough to enter. She just wanted to see if the property was guarded. It was. Both times, there’d been a cop staked out on her front porch, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t already someone inside.