by Mattie Hope
Today's report from O'Brien, though, had something new.
You might be interested to know that PF got (another) new member―that kid who found the body, the one who likes to be called "Ajax". It's strange though, I'm sure he recognized me but he didn't say anything. He asked a lot of questions (even more than me) and generally made a nuisance of himself. Not sure what the hell he's playing at, but I'm sure it won't be long before someone starts thinking he's a UC or a journalist. Not good for him but might help keep attention off of me.
What the hell, indeed, was Ajax playing at? It seemed obvious that he had taken it upon himself to infiltrate PF by himself, for whatever stupid reason. Zheng wanted to tell him to back off, that he was putting himself in danger―but contacting him might draw attention to him, put him in more danger. And then there was the possibility that Zheng didn't want to think about―that their argument had turned Ajax, that he had legitimately joined PF. In that case, any contact from Zheng would lead to questions about how he had known that Ajax had joined, and would compromise O'Brien. Even worse, what if Ajax had been a bigot all along? You didn't have to think splices deserved human rights to want to fuck them. Men had fucked women for hundreds, if not thousands, of years of human history without believing they deserved equal rights.
It disgusted Zheng, sometimes, to think he had been bred and educated to emulate these people, who were capable of such awfulness. But they weren't all bad; he knew that too. And he didn't think that Ajax was, truly. He didn't want to believe it, at least.
But whatever the case, he couldn't risk contacting him. He'd just have to leave him to his own devices and focus on the case. Ajax was not his problem.
*~*~*
On the day of the rally, Zheng positioned himself in a corner at the outer edge of the area assigned for the demonstration, which was a small, open space next to a food court, across from a store that sold accessories. He was trying to stay unobtrusive for a couple of reasons: for one, he didn't want to make himself a target, and for another, he wanted to be able to monitor the audio from O'Brien's wire without drawing attention to himself. Earpieces made for splices were unwieldy and obvious, since their ears weren't shaped for the human-style ones. That by itself wouldn't necessarily be a problem―there was nothing very unusual about a guard wearing an earpiece―but the sound also tended to bleed a little.
They weren't expecting much of a turnout, and there were counter-protesters already gathering, which made Zheng feel a little better about humanity.
Then the PF people started to arrive. They were holding signs like 'HUMAN RIGHTS ARE FOR HUMANS'. One of them said 'CLAWS OFF OUR WOMEN' and had an old-fashioned image of a dinosaur on it, from when they were always depicted as skeletal and green, with its mouth open and gleaming teeth displayed. Zheng could feel his feathers prickling. He wished he had any control over it. He was just glad he was more or less out of sight. They'd love it if they could see they'd pissed him off.
He didn't look for Ajax. He didn't want to know if he was carrying a sign like that, or worse.
He could hear, over his earpiece, that a counter-protester had decided to confront someone within earshot of O'Brien. He admired the impulse, in a way, but he didn't want this to get ugly if it didn't have to.
"Why are you doing this?" the counter-protester was asking.
"Didn't you hear a woman got murdered?" said a masculine voice, somebody from PF (aside from their convenient mouthpiece Karynne Spencer, PF was almost exclusively male, as it happened). Zheng listened a little more closely. It probably didn't signify much―Gershon was a common talking point among PF now, as if their members hadn't been sending her death threats a few weeks ago.
"Yes?" said the counter-protester. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"What, you think it's a coincidence that the murder rate has gone up since the diversity drive? What, are you stupid or something?"
It sometimes seemed as if the members of PF weren't people at all, but social androids, all preprogrammed with the same basic conversational responses. They were practically interchangeable with one another, regurgitating the same few specious arguments ad nauseum.
"Actually," said the protester, "no data has been released―"
Her voice got fainter as O'Brien moved away. Probably the right choice; this wasn't going anywhere.
"Hey, Jimmy, get over here!" said the gruff voice of an older man. That was the name O'Brien was using. "You ain't met Mickey, have you? He just got out of―what you doing?" That last part sounded muffled somehow.
"I think I dropped my watch," said O'Brien. That was a yellow alert.
Zheng gestured to the nearby guards, and started moving closer to the gathered protesters, looking for O'Brien.
"Hey," said a new voice through the wire, "I know you. You ain't―this guy's a fuckin' guard!"
"Shit," muttered Zheng, just as he heard O'Brien shout "Gun!"―loud enough that he didn't need the earpiece to hear it, it rose above the noise of the crowd.
Zheng could feel his crest rising in alarm. He hated that his body gave him away in moments like this. He put his hand on his own weapon, holstered on his thigh―guards weren't usually armed on 1, and he didn't like carrying it, but he'd been trained, and he'd use it if he had to.
"Guard!" he shouted. "Move out of the way! There's a gunman," but this was a PF rally, and not everyone wanted to let the splice guard through. In the end, he raised his weapon. "Get out of my fucking way!" he said, and they did.
The crowd parted just in time for him to watch the wild-eyed gunman, weapon up, swing around to face him.
"Drop your weapon," said Zheng, as calmly as he could, but before he'd finished speaking, somebody was leaping on the gunman, throwing their arms around him, trying to force his arms to his sides. It wasn't just anybody. It was Ajax.
The gun went off.
Chapter Seven
Jax opened one eye, then the other. They were hard to open, and he felt like shit. He must be really hungover. His foot hurt, like a dull burning. He tried to move it, but it felt heavy, or stuck in something―and when he tried to move his hands, they felt heavy too. Christ, what had he been doing last night?
"Just relax," came a voice from somewhere off to the side. "Don't try to move."
"Kath?"
"Um, no, it's me. Rita."
"Oh, right. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. How are you feeling?"
"Uh…weird. There's something wrong with my foot, and my head feels all fucked up."
"What's the last thing you remember?"
It kind of hurt to think too hard, but Jax cast his mind back. "I was at the rally," he said slowly. "Some crazy fucker started waving a gun around. Wait, Zheng, is Zheng okay?"
"Zheng's fine. That's the last thing you remember?"
"No, I―wait, did I tackle the guy, or was that a dream?"
"That was not a dream. I wasn't there, but from what Zheng tells me, you came up behind the guy and got him into a kind of bear-hug. You managed to get his arms by his sides, but you got shot in the foot. I'm…afraid you lost a toe."
"Shit," muttered Jax.
"Zheng and the other guards there got the gunman into custody and got the medics for you. You've been in surgery. You're probably still a little bit out of it from the anesthetic, I'd guess."
"Ah, fuck. What infirmary am I in?"
"St. Aloysius? This is the recovery room. The medics say you can go home later today, but you'll be in a chair for a while, and you'll have to come back for PT."
"For who?" he asked.
"Physical therapy."
Yeah, sure, that was happening. "Rita, you gotta get me out of here. I can't afford this place, okay? Fuck, how much am I in the hole for?"
"Look, don't worry about that. Zheng and I took care of it."
"You and Zheng? Oh, God, you shouldn't have done that."
"Why not?" asked Rita.
"It's gonna take me years to pay you back."
"Just…d
on't worry about that now. We can sort it out it later."
"Hey," said Jax, "listen. I know I said I wasn't gonna go…"
"You did say that, didn't you?" said Rita, an edge to her voice.
"I had to do something."
"No," said Rita, "you didn't. We've already had this argument. I don't want to have it again. In the end, it was lucky you were there, I suppose. You may very well have saved Zheng's life. Speaking of whom, I think he's quite keen to speak to you. If you're willing."
Jax tried to sit up, but the covers were too tight, and his whole body felt heavy. "He's here?"
"Yes," said Rita.
Jax swallowed. "I don't know. I guess so. I don't—"
"You don't have to, Jax. It's up to you."
"No, I want to, I just…Give me a second."
"You can take as long as you need."
"It's okay. Send him in, I want to."
She went out, and then he could hear their voices in the hallway just outside his room, low. He couldn't make out the words, though.
"Hi," he said when Zheng finally walked in, looking even better than Jax remembered―but also terrible, like a picture of the angel with the flaming sword (Jax almost thought he could see the flames), feathers all bristled up, angry. It made him look twice as big. Jax felt as if he was shrinking in the bed.
"Hi," said Zheng. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I didn't really join People First," said Jax quickly. "I was infiltrating them."
"Yes," said Zheng, "I got that. The question still stands."
"I'm really sorry about that shit I said. I'm not like that, you know? I was just―"
"Stop changing the subject," Zheng interrupted. "What you did last night was extremely dangerous. We had the situation under control. That gun was pointing at me—what if you'd caused it to go off?"
"That's the whole reason why I―" Jax started, but Zheng wasn't finished.
"And besides all that, your little game of playing at going undercover could have totally jeopardized my investigation. What, did you think I wasn't investigating People First? Especially since you apparently hacked into our notes, so you knew we had exactly the same information that you did?"
"I'm really sorry," said Jax. His voice shook, and it came out as barely a whisper.
Zheng seemed to deflate, all the righteous anger going out of him. "I just want to know why."
"I just―I wanted to help. And I was worried they'd hurt you next. And I thought if I helped you solve the case maybe you'd forgive me and not be mad at me anymore, because I'm so sorry. And I was just sitting around my suite feeling like shit and I guess it made me feel like, I don't know, like I had some kind of purpose or something―"
"Hey," said Zheng, "all right. Calm down." He tilted his head. "You're high as a kite right now, aren't you?"
"I don't do that shit anymore," Jax promised.
"I meant from the anesthetic," said Zheng.
"Oh," said Jax. Right, Rita said something about that. It would explain the flames. "Maybe a little."
"I'm still angry," said Zheng.
"Oh," said Jax, again, in a small voice. He felt like a little kid.
"But that's―not important."
"It is," Jax insisted.
"Listen, we'll talk, all right? When you're feeling better. We'll talk it out. I have to go soon, anyway, I have a meeting with the mayor. He's not going to let me push it back any further."
"Don't go."
"I have to, soon. Not quite yet."
"I'm sorry," Jax said again.
"I know," said Zheng. "Thank you for saying so. It just might take me a little while."
"I know I really fucked up," said Jax. "And―Rita said you helped pay for my infirmary bill? I don't have the money to pay you back, I don't know―"
"Don't worry about any of that right now," said Zheng. "Can I get you anything?"
"Would you come here?" asked Jax. "I mean, is that okay?"
"Oh," said Zheng, and hesitated. "Yes, all right."
He came to stand beside the bed. He fiddled with something, one of the bags of whatever, and then, after a moment, he held out his artificial hand. Jax took hold of it.
"That's weird," he said. "Shit, sorry. I just meant―I guess because I've seen you without the arm extender, it's―I'm sorry, ignore me."
"It's all right," said Zheng. "To be honest with you, I―oh, never mind."
"No, what?"
"I'm not that attached to the arm. No pun intended. I wear it for work, and because the station is…well, it's built for people with arms. I do need it, but…it's complicated."
"I thought you were supposed to call it an arm extender," said Jax. Then he yawned without meaning to. "Sorry."
"You don't have to keep saying sorry. And let's have this conversation when you're a little more awake, all right?"
"Okay," said Jax, eyes drifting shut. His head felt all fuzzy. He wanted Kath. "I want Kath. Can you get Kath?"
"Murphy?"
"Yeah, y'know, my sister."
He felt Zheng go very still beside him. "Murphy's your sister?"
"Shit," said Jax vaguely. "I think it was supposed to be a secret. Am I in trouble?"
"Don't worry, all right? Don't worry about any of it. Your sister is at Zenith, remember?"
"Oh, yeah."
"So she might not be able to visit you right away. I can probably get her on a vidcall, but it might take a little while. Just―get some sleep and leave it with me. But right now I have to go and see the Mayor, okay?"
"Oh," said Jax, disappointed. He wanted Kath, but he still wanted Zheng, too.
"I'll see you later, Ajax," he heard Zheng say quietly, pulling his hand out of Jax's.
"Call me Jax," he managed. Then he was asleep.
Chapter Eight
"Well, that was a goddamn clusterfuck," said Mayor Callaghan. "Wouldn't you say?"
He was a gray, bloated man with a patina of enlarged blood vessels across his face. A drinker.
Zheng felt the roots of his feathers prickle and willed them not to stand on end. "I wouldn't use those exact words, sir, but it certainly was less than ideal."
"'Less than ideal,'" repeated Callaghan. "You think you're funny?"
"No, sir, absolutely not. But my guards followed protocol, sir. This was unfortunate, but I don't think the blame lies with us."
"Oh, yeah? I don't see why you're going after People First, anyway."
Zheng paused. "They did send her death threats," he said.
"Just because some kooks were sending her death threats doesn't mean they actually murdered her," said Callaghan. "You told me yourself that it could be a professional job."
"But if so, the question is, who hired the professional?" Zheng pointed out. "We can't find anybody else with a motive."
"What about that girl who's taken over from her? Maybe she wanted her job."
"But she wasn't on the station at the time. We already confirmed that," Zheng told him. He let a little irritation bleed into his voice―humans mostly couldn't tell, anyway.
"Hmm. Well, I'll level with you, Zheng. I don't like the optics."
"Excuse me?"
"I don't like a splice guard, no offense, arresting human rights activists in the first case we let an alien be in charge of."
"Human rights activists?" repeated Zheng, ignoring the 'alien' part (a lot of splices would be offended at the word, but Zheng didn't give a shit). "That's not what they are. They're human supremacists, sir. It's an entirely different―"
"I don't want you going after them," said Callaghan. "A lot of people on 4 are sympathetic to them. I'm all for diversity, but we're still a human-majority station, you know."
Yeah. Zheng was aware of that. "And elections are coming up," he added mildly.
"There something wrong with me trying to get re-elected? Something wrong with me wanting to represent the interests of the majority? That's what democracy is all about, you know―or don't the Fusion teach you about
democracy? I suppose you'd like a splice as a mayor. Well, that's not gonna happen. Not on 4."
Zheng wasn't sure which part of that little speech to respond to. "What about the gunman we have in custody?" he asked instead, after an uncomfortable silence.
"Well, sure," said Callaghan, "I'm not saying you let him go, but that's just one bad apple. They're not all violent. A lot of them are just concerned citizens, exercising their right to protest."
"Yes, sir," said Zheng.
"And there's no way he coulda done it, right? He was in jail when the woman died."
Zheng didn't bother to respond.
"What about the kid who found her body?" said Callaghan. "You got anything on him?"
"Jax?"
"Jax? What kind of a name is that?"
Again, Zheng chose silence.
"Anyway," said Callaghan, "he's some kind of a low-life, isn't he?"
"That's―he has a record, sir, but nothing violent. And he hasn't had any arrests in the last eighteen months. I ruled him out as a suspect at the outset of the investigation, there's no reason―"
"Maybe you might want to reconsider that," said Callaghan deliberately.
"Jax couldn't afford to put a hit out on someone even if he wanted to," said Zheng, glad for the way that the larynx flattened out his tone, keeping the emotion out of his voice. "He doesn't stand to gain anything from her death."
"Maybe he was in it with the Earth girl, huh? You ever think of that? Maybe she offered to pay him off if he got rid of Gershon."
"I think you're assuming that doing octopus research on Metro 4 is a more desirable gig that it actually is, sir, if you don't mind my saying so. And besides, he was the one who stopped the gunman. If anything, he's a hero."
"Oh, yeah? Well, what was he doing at the rally in the first place?" asked Callaghan, raising his eyebrows significantly.
Zheng blinked at him. "You yourself just pointed out that attending the rally was not an illegal act, sir."