But that was what building security was for.
The door clicked open and he was in the hallway. He made himself walk the last few meters, not just to catch his breath, but also so that he wouldn’t look panicked when he arrived.
At the end of the hall, near Talia’s door, two building security officers stood with their arms crossed, facing him. A woman stood behind them. It looked like they were protecting her, until he saw the third security officer standing in front of Talia’s door.
“Thank you,” Zagrando said to the officers. “Stay here.”
They nodded but moved aside so that he could see the woman. The officer in front of Talia’s door remained.
“I’m Iniko Zagrando. I’m in charge of this investigation. The child is in my custody. Who are you and how did you get in here?”
The woman extended her hand. On it, the Aleyd symbol glowed orange. The orange clashed with her awful gold suit and her matching gold skin.
Zagrando hated people who color-coordinated their features to match their clothing. He had no idea why they had so much time to waste and why they cared about things like clothing when there were so many more important things to care about.
“I’m Moira Aptheker,” the woman said. “I’m Talia Shindo’s personal representative.”
From Aleyd. He felt his stomach twist. Aptheker might actually have a claim. But he would bluff as long as he could.
“Yeah, you told Talia that and terrified her. Unless you are her lawyer, you leave now.”
“It is my understanding that her mother is missing. May we go inside and discuss this?”
“The apartments near here are unoccupied,” Zagrando said. “Security, shut off audio in the hallway.”
The officers didn’t move, but the overhead security system murmured an assent in more languages than Zagrando had time to listen to.
“We stay here and discuss this. No proprietary information will make it onto the security recordings,” Zagrando said.
“I must insist that these officers leave.” Aptheker glared at all three of them.
“Insist all you want,” Zagrando said. “They’ll leave when you do.”
She sighed. Then she glanced at the door. “Talia, I know you’re listening. Come out, honey, so you can participate.”
“Talia,” Zagrando said, “if you are listening, stay there. I’ll handle this.”
“Detective, we’ll get nowhere if you contradict everything I do.”
“Ms. Aptheker,” he said in the same snotty tone she’d used, “you’ll get arrested if you continue to contradict me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You had best be right about the privacy of this meeting.”
This conversation was not considered private by Valhalla legal standards. She seemed to know it as well as Zagrando did. But if she insisted on getting her way, he could arrest her. That would buy Talia some more time, and at least let him figure out why Aleyd was so interested in her.
“Are you going to tell me who you are, Ms. Aptheker, or am I going to have these kind gentlemen propel you out the front door?”
Her frown was so deep that the gold in her skin pooled in her frown lines. “Talia’s mother works for Aleyd. You saw my identification.”
“I know that Rhonda Shindo works for Aleyd,” Zagrando said. “And I saw the Aleyd symbol on your hand, which is a neat trick to perform here, where your links should be shut down. But I’m sure I can get my personal system to make the same little trademarked symbol if I tried, so I don’t view that as identification, and I don’t see how the two facts are connected.”
“Ms. Shindo wanted me to protect her daughter.”
“Really?” Zagrando said. “Did she leave some kind of message saying that? Has she given you some sort of legal status in regards to her daughter?”
“Yes, actually,” Aptheker said, surprising him. He thought if he called this claim, it would be revealed for the bluff that it was and they could all leave. “Her terms of employment here on Callisto guarantee that we have access to her family in case of her incapacitation or death.”
“Access?” Zagrando asked.
“There are legal issues here that are confidential,” Aptheker said. “I cannot go into them.”
“But you’re not a lawyer,” Zagrando said.
“No, but I am, for the moment, Talia Shindo’s guardian in Valhalla Basin.”
He went cold. If she was, he had no right to hold Talia. He might not even get a chance to talk with her again. He’d run into this sort of thing with Aleyd before. They took family members of compromised employees and he never saw those family members again.
“What do your guardianship documents say, exactly?” he asked.
“That I should be allowed access, for one thing. That I make decisions for the child, for another.” Aptheker crossed her arms, mimicking the security officers’ position.
“Do these documents refer to Talia by name?”
“Of course not,” Aptheker said. “They’re part of the employment contract. There is no need to refer to the family members by name. The language is simple: Should the Aleyd employee vanish or become incapacitated or die while in service to Aleyd, any minors and/or dependents will become legal dependents of Aleyd for the duration of the crisis.”
“I’ll wager you also have a right to represent the family should there be any questions about how to handle this so-called crisis.” Zagrando was getting angry. He had to clench his fists to keep himself in check.
“Of course,” Aptheker said.
In other words, if the corporation felt it needed to give Talia up to get Rhonda back, it would. If it felt that Rhonda should not be recovered, it would fail to negotiate—and be within its legal rights to do so.
Aleyd could make wishes contrary to any made by the family, and Zagrando could do nothing to stop it.
Except stall.
He needed to talk with Talia. He needed her permission to tell Aptheker that she was a clone. Not just any clone, but the sixth issue of a set. That might make a difference.
It would, if Aleyd wanted to use her to resolve this matter with the Gyonnese.
“So you can see, Detective,” Aptheker was saying. “I have every right to enter that apartment.”
“I can’t see,” Zagrando said. “All I have is your word. I haven’t seen any documents. I haven’t looked at any contracts.”
“They’re proprietary information. You people have never asked for that kind of documentation before,” Aptheker said.
“I’m asking now,” Zagrando said. “And I want time for the department lawyers to look over everything you have.”
“I can assure you that it’s in order.”
“Listen, lady,” Zagrando said in his toughest voice. “This child has been through a hell of a day. Her mother was kidnapped, she was hurt, and someone accused the family of terrible things. She’s alone right now. For all I know, you’re working with the bad guys—”
“Aleyd is not the bad guys.”
“No, it’s not.” He had to say that. He had to keep his job in this company town. “But I have no real proof that you work for them. I have no real proof that, even if you do work for them, your services haven’t been purchased at an exorbitant sum by the person or persons who took Ms. Shindo. I have no real proof that you won’t take this child and give her to the very folks who are trying to hurt her.”
“If they wanted to hurt her, Detective, they would have.”
“You weren’t listening, Ms. Aptheker. They did.”
She swallowed so hard that he could see dark skin beneath the gold as her Adam’s apple moved.
“We put the child here to protect her. We’re going to do that. The fact that you object makes you suspect in my mind.” Zagrando’s heart was still pounding hard, but this time, it was pounding from anger, not from exertion.
“Time is of the essence, Detective,” Aptheker said.
“It usually is,” he said.
“I cannot stress en
ough how much I need to see that child.”
“I cannot stress enough how little I care about you,” he snapped.
She looked pointedly at everyone, as if she were trying to memorize them. “If you jeopardize our position, I will have your badges.”
“Our position?” he said.
“Aleyd considers that whatever happens to one of its employees happens to it, as well. You could be killing Ms. Shindo.”
“I have a hunch you people already had that covered—if the holo on her door is to be believed.”
Aptheker’s eyes glittered. “You shouldn’t believe everything you see, Detective.”
“I don’t, ma’am,” he said. “That’s why I’m asking you to give me proof of your position as Talia’s guardian. Until then, I insist that you get off police property.”
She glared at him. “You’ll regret this.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” he said.
“Oh, I’ll make sure of it.” She headed down the hallway. For all her bluster, she was tiny and she moved like someone who hadn’t done a day’s hard work in her life.
He watched her go. The officers beside him did, as well.
“You want me to escort her out, sir?” one of them asked.
“Yes,” Zagrando said.
The officer hurried after her.
“You think she can hurt us with Aleyd?” another officer asked Zagrando.
“Oh, probably,” Zagrando said. “But she won’t.”
“Why not?” the third officer asked.
Because, Zagrando nearly said, there are too few people in this town who want to become police in the first place. Harassing them is as bad for business as killing aliens.
But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything. Instead he walked to the apartment door, leaned against it, and said as gently as he could, “Talia, it’s Detective Zagrando. It’s okay. You can open the door.”
He heard furniture move. Then a lock click. Talia stood there, looking less like the strong girl-going-on-woman that he’d met that morning and more like a little child who had just lost her mother.
“I’m scared,” Talia said, and wrapped her arms around him.
He sighed and rolled his eyes at the other officers. He wasn’t supposed to touch her. But he couldn’t turn her away. He wanted them to know he had no control over this moment.
They smiled. One of them nodded, making it clear Zagrando would have no trouble over this.
But even if he had no trouble over the hug, he’d have trouble over this case. That much was clear.
He was no lawyer, but he knew that if Aptheker was right about the wording of the contract, she had every right to Talia. He had been hoping the contract mentioned children. Instead, it mentioned minors or dependents. Talia fit that description.
Talia belonged to Aleyd.
And he wasn’t exactly sure how to tell her.
Twenty-eight
First, Rhonda took the antitoxins. She sat on the shelf next to the diagnostic table and swallowed the antitoxins dry.
They burned as they went down her throat. They would work slowly, and they might make her ill. She didn’t look up the side effects because she didn’t want to know.
She did, however, check to see if any of the antitoxins neutralized the cydoleen. They did not, so she slipped the pills into one of her pockets.
Then she slid off the shelf and went to the laser scalpels. She picked one up, turned it over in her hands, and frowned at it. She hadn’t seen this model before.
Laser scalpels weren’t easy to use. That was her memory of them. The designers feared lawsuits if someone who wasn’t trained in laser scalpel technique picked one up, turned it on, and accidentally injured someone with it. She’d used several different models in her work, but none like these. These were slightly more complicated.
A headache built behind her eyes. Antitoxins, she reminded herself. Just antitoxins.
She also had terrible heartburn, and an exhaustion built inside her.
The exhaustion was probably natural. She had a break from all the trauma she’d suffered throughout the day, and her body, sensing some safety, wanted to relax.
But she didn’t dare relax. She needed to neutralize these men and then get off this ship.
She needed to contact Talia and make sure she was all right.
Rhonda rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. The exhaustion was too extreme to be natural. It had to be the antitoxins.
Or what remained of the contamination.
She made herself pick up the hypodermics. At least those worked the way she remembered. All she had to do was flick the switch on the side of the tube and the hypo would be activated. Then she had to press it against flesh, and she was done.
As she stared at it, the door swished open behind her.
She whirled, clutching the hypo in her left hand.
The idiot stood in the entry, his bald head reflecting the poor light. He no longer wore the environmental suit. His clothing was sweat stained and his skin blotchy, as if he had gotten too warm.
“I thought we got medical programs,” he said.
“You did,” she said. “I turned them off.”
“Why?” The word was plaintive. Slowly, she realized he wanted this place for himself.
“Because they have no more training than I do.” She slid her left hand to the shelf, and set the hypo down. If she handled him right, she could get out of here easily.
“They train computer programs?” he asked.
“You know what I mean,” she said.
He nodded, but the nod was uncertain, as if he really didn’t know.
“You’re not wearing your suit,” she said.
“It had a rip.” His face flushed as he said that. “I was getting wrong readings because of it.”
“And it provided you no protection.”
“Yeah, I know.” He squared his shoulders. “What kind of training do you got?”
“I needed minimal medical training for my job,” she lied. She knew her way around medical units. She knew more about biochemistry than most doctors, but she didn’t know how to apply her knowledge in a healing manner.
“You look kinda pale.”
“I’m in the last stage of my treatment.”
“You fixed it?”
She nodded.
“Because my boss is worried. He lost contact with you. Can I let him know you’re okay?”
“Be my guest,” she said, sweeping her arm toward the panel near the door.
But the idiot stepped outside the door instead, so she didn’t have to try to turn the panel back on from inside the room. He clearly sent a message along personal links, then he gave her a small apologetic smile.
Was he supposed to kill her? Was the other one coming here? If they both came here, they’d be in her new domain, and she’d be able to fight them.
He nodded once, as if he received a message. Then he clutched the side of his arm—probably where his main links were located—and came back inside the medical lab. This time, as he did, the door swished closed behind him.
“I’m supposed to bring you to the bridge when you’re feeling up to it,” he said.
“Okay,” she said, keeping her back to the shelves with all her weapons.
He approached the diagnostic table. “You really know how to work all this stuff?”
“Yes,” she said.
“That’s why you wanted the decon unit first, right?”
“Yes,” she said.
He ran his finger along the edge of the table. “Should I go there? I mean, I’ve been in and out of that cargo hold a lot.”
She let out a small breath, and he must have heard it. He looked at her like she’d moaned. Maybe she had. If she played this right, she could disable him here.
She might have a chance to get free.
“Some of those contaminants are only an issue with prolonged exposure,” she said.
“How would I know if I was pr
olonged?” he asked.
Her heart was pounding even harder. She wondered if he could hear it. He’d heard the small breath. He might have enhanced hearing.
“Why don’t you get on the table? That’d be the quickest way to find out.”
He flattened his palm on it. The table powered up. “You can’t just do it with my hand.”
“No,” she lied.
“This thing, it won’t hurt me.”
“It’s designed not to,” she said. “In fact it shuts down if something goes wrong.”
He stared at her. On this, she wasn’t lying to him.
“You can check if you like. Ask the computer.”
“Is that true, computer?” he asked.
“You may check with me, yes,” the computer said.
The idiot rolled his eyes, then smiled at Rhonda as if they shared a joke at the computer’s expense. “I mean that I can’t get hurt on the diagnostic table.”
The computer said, “It is designed to diagnose, not to harm. Should it become clear that any part of the table might harm you, the entire system will shut down and you will receive instructions on your personal repair.”
Bless computers and their completely anal answers. Rhonda watched his face. He was convinced.
He slid onto the table, sat for a moment, then glanced at her as if he were very nervous. Slowly, he leaned back. His flesh spread, and she realized he wasn’t as muscular as he seemed. Most of that bulk was fat.
He looked oddly vulnerable, his belly extended, his fingers clutching the handholds, his bald head reflecting the lights that circled him.
She didn’t want to see him as vulnerable. She didn’t want to feel any sympathy for him at all.
Her mouth was dry, her hands slippery with sweat.
She had to remind herself: this was the man who had kidnapped her. He had leered when he mentioned her daughter’s name. For all his fear now, he had reveled in Rhonda’s fear and probably Talia’s, as well.
The anger Rhonda had lost rose again.
“Does it tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
Recovery Man Page 14