An inset image reflected back Irena’s feed.
Her face was cut and bruised, and her skin looked pale even for her. She had tied her hair in a simple ponytail and wore a plain bamboo robe. It was professional without being stifling, and casual enough that she felt comfortable given her aches and pains.
The screen flashed white, and then filled with the image of the ERP’s new leader, Professor Encarnita. She was much younger than Dr. Osho and of Mexican descent. Her dark hair was arranged in an extravagant topknot. She wore more makeup than most scientists Irena knew. Professor Encarnita clearly preferred a more glamorous look. She wore a glittering gold-and-diamond necklace around her elegant neck, which contrasted with her designer black suit jacket fitted in the modern style with sharp creases.
“Ms. Selles, it is good to see you. You’re looking quite well given the circumstances,” the professor said.
“Thank you. I wish I felt better given the circumstances.”
Irena chided herself for her snarky response. She hadn’t meant it to come out sounding so aggressive and defensive.
Encarnita bowed her head slightly in a gesture of understanding.
Irena appreciated that and relaxed a little.
“I read the report you sent to us,” the professor said. “It’s such a terrible business. The team here is devastated, especially so soon after poor Romanov. Over the next few days, we’re holding a ceremony in their honor here at the facility.”
“That sounds like a fine way to pay respects to our team members,” Irena said, unsure of what else to add, the grief still not quite cutting through the shock of the events.
“How are you doing? Is there anything you need from us?”
“I’m not sure yet. Everything has been such a blur so far. It all happened so quickly, and I have yet to get my head around it.”
The professor bowed her head once more, and then looked off to the side as she responded to someone’s call. She held up her palm to the camera and spoke briefly with the audio muted, nodded a few times, and then turned her attention back to Irena.
“If you’re busy, we can always do this a little later,” Irena said.
“It’s fine, sorry about that; I’m sure you can imagine things here are somewhat chaotic at the moment. It’s taken a while to brief everybody and step up the security protocols.”
Irena wondered whether this was being recorded. It would probably be used for evidence in any investigation from the government. Not that Irena had anything to hide other than the whole contraband situation. But that was easy for Irena to explain; as far as the law was concerned, she had assumed the freighter ship she had hitched a ride with was legitimate. They didn’t need to know about the deal she had struck.
“So,” the professor said, her voice tight as though she were finding the next words difficult, “do you know when you’ll be rejoining us? I can help arrange transport for you if you haven’t already sorted that.”
The wave of emotion that hit Irena took her by surprise.
The idea of returning to Earth so soon welled up inside her like a great weight pressing against her throat and chest.
The professor must have seen her balk at the question. “I’m sorry if this sounds insensitive and you feel I’m rushing you, but the work here is important, and I know Dr. Osho would have wanted us to continue, regardless.”
Irena pushed herself up on the couch and leaned forward. She took a couple of deep breaths to compose herself. “I’m sure she would, but right now I’m in no real state to travel, let alone focus on my work. I will need some time to get over this.”
“That’s understandable. How long do you need?” The professor stared at Irena through the video screen, expectation written all over her face.
The more Irena spoke with her, the less glamorous she seemed, and more hard-faced, more results-driven. She wondered whether she cared anything at all about Siegfried, Darnesh and Dr. Osho, or whether she just saw this whole situation as an inconvenience.
“I’m sorry, Professor, but this isn’t a climate model. I can’t just run the numbers and give you some hard data. I will know when I know, but in the meantime, I will make sure you stay abreast of any progress I make with the restoration project, and I will help when and where I can.”
“Very well. I can’t force you to return, but I also can’t hide my disappointment. You are a key member of the team, and with the loss of the others, we’re going to have a problem with resources.”
The pressure in Irena’s throat grew to the point where she had a problem getting her words out. It was only after a few moments that she realized it was anger and not grief. It took all of her control to resist the outburst that threatened to burn her scientific bridges.
“All I can do is apologize,” Irena said through gritted teeth. “I will of course give the ERP my utmost priority as soon as I am able. In the meantime, please feel free to send me reports and any data that you and the new team come up with. And when I can, I will send back any feedback, if that is of any use to you.”
“That’s fine. I hope your recovery goes well, but if you don’t mind, I have a very busy schedule and need to return to my duties. We’ll be in touch soon.”
The screen switched off. Professor Encarnita’s image faded away to be replaced with a blank white space so that the screen matched the walls of Irena’s apartment.
She stood, turned away from the screen, and swore loudly.
She continued to swear, letting out her anger in a thirty-second tirade that left her exhausted. She collapsed onto the sofa and laid her head down, trying not to take Professor Encarnita’s cold reaction personally.
Which was easier said than done.
Irena couldn’t help but feel she was abandoning all those at the ERP. But she knew she would be of better use to them up here, where she could work in her own time and space and where she felt safer. She didn’t have much time to ponder on this when her apartment filled with the sound of a guest arriving.
The notification buzz encouraged her to stand and approach the front door.
The small square video screen next to the door showed the image of her parents standing outside. The pair of them wore expressions of impatience.
Her father checked his watch and raised his hand to press the buzzer again.
Irena swung the door open and smiled at her parents.
She made to hug them, but, together, they moved forward, forcing Irena to step back as they entered her apartment. Her father, Carlos Selles, a house representative for the Jovian Group, strode into the living area and sat down in the armchair, crossing one leg over the other. He looked up at Irena with an impatient expression that she knew all too well.
Her mother, Victoria Selles, the current Messenger representative for Atlas Station, stood next to Carlos, placing a hand on the back of the armchair. She, too, looked at Irena with expectation, her right eyebrow raised.
Irena closed the door, took a few calming breaths, and faced her parents.
“It’s nice to see you both. Can I get you anything?” she asked.
“We won’t stay long,” Carlos replied. “We wanted to hear from you exactly what happened on Earth. I received a report on the grapevine this morning of an attack. I would have thought my own daughter would have told me first.”
His dark eyes glared at Irena.
She’d never had much of a loving relationship with him growing up, and he’d always insisted that she call him Carlos rather than Dad. Noticing her talent early on in her life, Carlos had pushed her to fulfill her potential, regardless of her own opinions of what she wanted to do with her life.
“Well? Your father does have a point,” her mother said.
“I told you Earth was dangerous,” Carlos added, leaning forward and pointing at her. “I’m sure you think I just say these things for the sake of it. I warned you about going there, but as ever, you defied me, and you nearly got yourself killed.”
That same feeling of her throat and ch
est tightening returned, only this time she knew for certain it was anger.
“How dare you?” she said, her voice trembling as she struggled to control her emotions. “Yes, I could have died. I was badly injured, alone, and facing certain death until I got lucky and found a freighter crew. And all you can do is score points with me and prove that you’re right. I’m sure sometimes you prefer being right more than anything else.”
Carlos stood up from the chair, pushing it back with his legs. His suit jacket, fitted around his slender body, flew open. He jabbed a finger in the air toward her. “How dare I? I’ve only ever wanted the best for you. For you to be safe.”
“That’s a damned lie, and you know it. You’re only upset because I went to the silicon runners first. It’s got nothing to do with my safety. It’s about status. You can’t handle that you’re not the most important person in this situation.”
Irena paced in front of the kitchen area of her small apartment, wishing she could just be left alone. She turned away from him, knowing that if she continued, she would end up saying far more than she wanted to.
Carlos fumed. Irena’s mother did what she did best and calmed him down.
“I want to speak with Irena alone. Why don’t you wait for me outside; there’s no need to fall out over this.”
Without saying anything else, Irena opened the door and waited until her father had left the room. She returned to the kitchen area and sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, taking a cup of coffee from the dispenser.
“Thanks, Mum, I appreciate that. I’m not in the mood to deal with him right now. Can I get you a drink?”
Her mother stood on the other side of the breakfast bar, less than a meter away. She was wearing a new suit, a navy-blue abbot-designed outfit that was perfectly cut for her mother’s curvy figure and helped her cast an imposing appearance, as was the style of a station Messenger.
Her mother leaned in close and said in a low, threatening voice, “Now you listen to me. You need to tell me what happened, right now, and no crap. What exactly happened with the abbot?”
Irena jerked away from her mother, surprised at her aggression. She’d never seen her this threatening before.
It took a while for Irena to find the words, but eventually she said, “Everything that happened is in the report I gave the silicon runners. I assume you’ve read that by now given how you and Carlos seem to always know what’s going on. I’m guessing the House of Messengers has increased their network of information providers?”
“Do you really think that I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Her mother said, an edge to her words. “I read the report, and I know you’re not telling the full story. Now I won’t ask again. Tell me what happened.”
Irena stood from her stool and slapped a hand down on the breakfast bar. “It killed my colleagues and destroyed three other abbots before chasing me into the woods, where it was attacked by a group of earthers. That is all there is to say.”
“A group representing the other stations is suggesting a potential new uprising. If you’re not telling me everything, then there is nothing I can do to stop you from being interrogated by the supreme judicial committee. If you are lying, there will be nothing your father and I can do for you.”
“There is nothing I’m not telling you. I’m as confused as everyone else. If all you’re going to do is threaten me, I’d rather you just leave. We clearly have nothing else to say to each other.”
Her mother’s face softened for a moment, and she stepped toward her, but the hard edge returned. “Fine, if that’s the way it’s going to be, so be it. I hope you’ve enjoyed playing scientist, because your days of working for the ERP are over.”
“I don’t care. I’ll get to the bottom of this myself if I have to.”
Her mother snorted. “There’ll be nothing to investigate when we’re done with this farce. It’ll be squashed before you get anywhere.” She strode to the door and left without saying goodbye.
Irena threw the cup of coffee against the wall and screamed. It seemed everyone cared more about the abbot than they did her or her dead colleagues. To hell with them. She would work with the silicon runners and figure this out herself. She would get justice for her colleagues, or die trying. She’d looked death in the face and survived; mortality no longer held as much power over her. She was free to put her talents to use in order to discover the truth, regardless of what her parents wanted.
11
Harlan entered the silicon runners’ office, noticing he was at least ten minutes early for the briefing with Hugo.
A dozen agents sat at their desks, busy gesturing and tapping at their holographic screens, comparing notes, accessing files, and creating a sense of urgency and busyness that Harlan rarely saw these days.
With what had happened on Earth, the missing abbot, and Gylfie’s information about the merger, it definitely seemed as if there was a lot happening a few inches beneath the surface, like a wave gaining power.
He couldn’t yet see the full connections between events, but he’d been around long enough to know that all these independent incidents weren’t truly independent. There were too many webs of influence overlapping each other.
Interested parties were everywhere, even when there appeared to be none.
“Milo, run some searches on the extranet and collate all news stories, reports, and social media posts regarding these incidents, and try to buy some time from the QCA to crunch the data. See if there’re any commonalities.”
— I’m on it, Harlan. I’ll let you know as and when I find anything.
“I appreciate you being helpful for once.”
He could sense his peripheral preparing a snarky response. Harlan switched off his access before Milo could retort, and then walked past his cubicle, through the office, and into the holding cells.
“Sorry, Harlan, you can’t come in here.” Diego, the young guard, blocked his way. He’d only worked here for six months, being his first job out of Atlas University.
“You do owe me a favor, do you not?” Harlan said, looking back through the door to the main office to make sure no one was watching. All the agents were too busy on their various cases to notice him.
Diego shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “I’ve been given orders. You’re not to see her.”
“Consider this me calling in the favor.”
“Come on, man, really? If I let you in there and Hugo finds out, he’ll have my calorie privileges cut by a quarter.”
“Sure, that is a distinct possibility,” Harlan said casually. He then placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “If you don’t honor the favor, then there’ll be more than food privileges that you’ll lose. You know how this works. I put my neck out for you. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even have this job.”
“Damn you, Harlan. Fine. I’ll give you two minutes, that’s it.”
He opened the door reluctantly with a shaking head and stepped aside.
Each cell was an independent unit. This prevented those being held from talking amongst themselves. A bench lined the east wall, and a glass cubicle took up the west wall. The cell was three meters square and plainly decorated, with a single bed, compact toilet, and a desk with a chair.
Harlan took off his leather jacket. The temperature in here was higher than normal due to the confined space. The air was thick, too, and slightly damp. The air recyclers picked up the moisture from outside and were unable to filter it out completely.
Leanne was lying on the bed within the cell. She had her eyes closed and her hands across her stomach, fingers entwined.
Harlan pressed the button on the wall to engage the speakers. “Enjoying a nap?”
Leanne didn’t react immediately. She waited half a minute before turning on her side to face him. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Do you blame me? You’ve been gone for the better part of a decade and then turn up to kill me,” Harlan said. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want some answers
.”
She propped her head up on her hand and looked at Harlan with her soulful eyes, giving absolutely nothing away. “You wouldn’t like the answers. You never have liked the truth when it comes to you or those around you. That’s why your best friend is a peripheral. But even he isn’t what you think.”
Harlan approached the glass screen to get a better look at her, to observe her body language, to see if she was communicating anything, even on a subconscious level. But she remained still, calm, and appeared as though she had not a care in the world.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harlan asked. “You always did have a talent for the cryptic, but it seems, after all these years, you’ve honed it to a finer degree. If you get a pardon, perhaps you’d have a good career as a politician. Saying a whole lot of something without saying anything seems to be your new skill.”
Leanne stood up and stretched her limbs. She walked slowly towards the glass screen. Despite himself, Harlan thought back to their wedding day. She had approached him then just as she was doing now. He looked away, but he couldn’t banish the memory as easily.
Memories weren’t like that. They had a mind of their own. Their own internal logic.
“Just tell me,” Harlan said, hating the way his voice sounded almost as if he were begging. “Where were you? Why did you leave? You could have at least let me know you were still alive.”
Leanne pouted as though she were a child. “Aww, did you grieve for me like a widower? Did you put your life on hold and wait for me like a puppy waiting for his owner’s return from his tour of duty?”
“How did you become so bitter?” Harlan asked. “What happened to you?”
“You couldn’t possibly understand.” She looked away, her body language revealing to Harlan that she meant it, but there was pain there within her. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice neutral now, the bitterness and goading no longer tainting her words.
“If you gave me answers, then I wouldn’t have to be here.”
Vanguard Rising: A Space Opera Adventure Page 8