“Mr. Foxglove—” “Mr. Foxglove—” “Mr. Foxglove, what about the Silent and the Children of Irfan?”
Kendi held his breath. Martina did the same. Keith stared at his fingernails.
“The sun is setting on Irfan Qasad’s Silent Empire,” Foxglove said. “I think it’s time for the Silent and the Silenced to accept that their time on Bellerophon is growing to a close. We can create new enclaves for them, let them live their lives outside humanity, as they’ve always done. Then, perhaps, the different species can find peace.”
“What kind of bullshit is that?” Kendi snarled without thinking. Several people turned. Ched-Balaar heads swiveled. Kendi found himself staring into several pairs of inquisitive eyes.
“Father Kendi Weaver!” someone shouted, and a sea of people washed around Kendi like a whirlpool. Recording devices were shoved at his face, and two floating microphones spun into orbit around his head. Ched-Balaar heads bobbed, human hands waved. “Father Kendi, do you agree with what Mr. Foxglove just said?” “Father Kendi, what’s your position on the mining rights?” “Father Kendi, are you planning to run for office?” “Father Kendi, is it true that you’ve taken a leave of absence from the Children of Irfan?”
Martina and Keith both shrank behind Kendi. Behind them, the restaurant window filled with faces of patrons, some of them still chewing. Kendi raised both his hands, palms out, and the noise stopped.
“I’m not here to give a press conference,” he said, and the microphones broadcast his words to the edges of the crowd. “I was just getting a bite of lunch with my family, if you don’t mind.”
“Father Kendi, why the leave of absence?” “Father Kendi, are you quitting the Children?” “Father Kendi, what do you think of Mr. Foxglove’s remarks about the sun setting on the Silent Empire?”
“It’s bloody nonsense,” Kendi said, addressing the last question. “I don’t think—”
“With all due respect, Father,” Foxglove boomed from the other side of the platform, “I don’t see how the Children can survive. My Ched-Balaar friends tell me they have sensed no new presences in the Dream for many months now, and one day those who can reach it now will pass away. Time moves on.”
“Why don’t you have any human Silent or Silenced in your campaign, Mr. Foxglove?” Kendi shot back. “Don’t you think they’re human enough for you?”
Foxglove gave a hearty smile. “Are you offering advice to me on how to run a campaign, young Father? I hear you’re experienced at stealing slaves and wandering around the Dream, but I’m afraid that public office is another matter entirely.” A small chuckle. “I suppose we can forgive the foibles of the young and the brash.”
Anger boiled Kendi’s chest in acid. He opened his mouth to respond when someone yanked him hard from behind and he found himself back inside the darkened restaurant. The patrons at the window turned to stare. Kendi tried to round on Martina, but she still had a hold on his robe. Keith slammed the door and twisted the deadbolt lock. The microphones orbiting Kendi’s head fell to the mossy floor and Martina stepped on them. Reporters pounded on the door, but couldn’t open it.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kendi snapped.
“Saving your ass,” Martina snapped back. “What are you, mad? You got into a public debate with an experienced politician with a pack of reporters looking on.”
“I was about to give him a piece of—”
“Nothing,” Martina interrupted. “There was nothing you could say that he couldn’t counter, Kendi. That’s what politicians do. The longer you shouted at him, the stupider you looked.”
“Is ‘stupider’ a word?” Keith asked.
“It was invented just for Kendi,” Martina said, and turned to Ched-Mulooth who was hovering nearby. “Do you have a back exit? We need to slip away.”
Ched-Mulooth was only too glad to show them another way out. The trio fled down two walkways and three flights of stairs before Martina consented to release Kendi’s robe. Kendi took a deep breath, trying to get his anger under control. Martina leveled him a hard look, then flounced to a bench on a secluded little balcony and sat. A patch of spring sunlight washed her in gold.
“Calm?” she asked.
“Calm,” Kendi grumbled, taking a seat next to her. Another deep breath. “Okay, you were right.”
“What do you say, then?”
“Thank you for saving my ass,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Adventures at lunch,” Keith said. “I hate to ask what’s going down for supper.”
“Want to eat at my house and find out?” Kendi said. “We’ll have a meal just like Mom used to make—when we ordered takeaway, anyway—and talk about old times.”
Martina laughed. “I have things to do,” she said. “But thanks.”
“I’ll have to give it a miss, too,” Keith said. “Martina?”
Kendi watched the two of them leave. His brother and sister. They lived right here on Bellerophon, and he could talk to them whenever he wanted. Nothing Foxglove could say would take that away from him. Still, Kendi had to run most of the way home vent the last of his anger.
Ben met him at the front door, his face pale as milk. His eyes were wide with panic. Kendi’s stomach clenched.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Without a word, Ben grabbed his arm and towed him toward the den. He seemed unable to speak. His hand was sweaty on Kendi’s bicep. The house was dark, with few lights on, and Kendi’s footsteps echoed eerily on the hardwood floor as they reached Ben’s den. Kendi heard Ben’s breathing, harsh and fast.
“What’s going on, Ben?” Kendi said, fighting down his alarm. “You’re scaring me.”
Ben pointed in answer. A holographic display hovered in the darkness above his cluttered desk. It showed Daniel Vik and Irfan Qasad standing next to each other in a forest. The image was famous, and Kendi had seen it thousands of times. This version, however, had been altered. An image of Ben had been inserted between Daniel and Irfan and someone had added a caption. It read, Silence will cost you.
CHAPTER FOUR
“You can only blackmail someone who gives a shit.”
—Daniel Vik
Lucia dePaolo rotated Kendi’s new data pad, the one Petrie had given him, and examined the holographic image from all sides. Her scarred hands were rock-steady above the kitchen table. Ben’s hands were clasped tightly in his lap, and his right leg bounced up and down. Kendi sat next to him, his face hard. Harenn poured herself a cup of coffee, laced it heavily with cream and sugar, and brought it to the table. It was the last of the coffee supply, but no one objected.
“It’s a good job,” Lucia said, pushing dark hair away from a her forehead. “But I’m sure you already know that.”
“Ben turned it inside-out,” Kendi said. “He couldn’t find any clues as to who made it. Same went when we tried to trace the message that sent it. The thing was routed through several anonymous accounts, including two scrambler services. Whoever did this knows Ben is a hacker supreme.”
“Obviously they know more than that,” Harenn said.
“How did they find out?” Ben blurted. “Who told?”
“I told no one but you and Lucia,” Harenn said. “And each time we discussed it, our circumstances were private. No eavesdroppers. Unless someone was hanging underneath your balcony yesterday.”
“A burglar with serendipity on his side?” Kendi said. “Doubt it. Lucia? I hate to be blunt, but the First Church of Irfan would kill to get information like this. Did you drop any hints? Maybe by accident at a service?”
“I haven’t breathed a word of it since Harenn told me back on the Poltergeist,” Lucia said. Her voice was low and serene. “Not a single time, and I swear by Irfan herself.”
“I know I haven’t mentioned it,” Kendi said with a guilty little pang at how close he’d come to telling Keith and Martina. “Ben?”
“Absolutely not!”
“I did have to ask,” Kendi said
gently. “We’ll sort this out somehow. So who else knew about the embryos?”
“Grandfather Melthine and Mother Ara,” Harenn said. “But they died before we learned of the embryos’...origin.”
“What about the people who were on Mother Ara’s team when she found the embryos in the first place?” Lucia said. “They know the embryos exist.”
“It’s been almost thirty years since she was a part of that team,” Ben said. “They’ve probably forgotten all about them. Besides, they wouldn’t know the truth anymore than Mom did.”
“Maybe,” Lucia said. “But they’re a place to start.”
“Don’t forget Ben’s relatives,” Kendi said. “His aunt, uncle, and cousins know about the embryos, and they’re the most likely lot to pull something like this.”
“I hadn’t thought of them,” Ben said. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “God, it does sound like something Hazid or Zayim would try, though it doesn’t explain how they found out.”
“You don’t think Sil or Tress could be involved?” Harenn said.
Ben shook his head. “Sil doesn’t have the...she isn’t—”
“No need to be delicate, love,” Kendi said. “We all know Sil’s as bright as a wet matchstick. She’s a champion whiner, but blackmail is beyond her. Tress, on the other hand—”
“I don’t think it’s Tress,” Ben said. “She’s changed.”
“You only have her word on that,” Kendi pointed out.
“Right now, we can’t rule anyone out,” Lucia said. “I’ll put on my private investigator hat and check them all. My license is still active.”
“We’ll pay your usual hourly rate,” Kendi said. “What is it?”
Lucia pursed her lips. “Under other circumstances, I’d do this for free. But the PI business has been poor lately, and I can’t afford to turn anything down. I’ve already been forced to move back in with my parents.”
“Lucia! Why didn’t you say something?” Kendi said, shocked. “You’re going to be carrying one of our children. That makes you a member of this family, too. If you need a place to live or a few thousand freemarks to tide you over—”
“I won’t live on largesse,” Lucia replied firmly. “However, my full fee should cover my shortcomings. Five hundred freemarks per hour, plus expenses, with a ten thousand freemark advance.”
“Done,” Ben said.
“Then let’s get started. First, I’ll need the full names and addresses of your extended family, Ben. Kendi, does the monastery keep records of who went on what mission? I’ll need to track down the people on Mother Ara’s old team.”
“No problem,” Kendi said. “I can get you the information today.”
“Harenn,” Lucia said, “you ran the gene scans. Tell me exactly what you did and who else may have figured out what you were doing.”
“No one,” Harenn said. “I performed the first gene scans on the Poltergeist at Kendi’s request, and I told no one what I was doing. The procedure is straightforward. The computer scanned the DNA of the embryos and checked it against the monastery database.”
“How did you check the database?” Lucia said. “We were docked at SA Station at the time, and you couldn’t have accessed Children records from there.”
“I updated the Poltergeist’s medical computer just before we left. It contained the latest information from the monastery’s databases, including genetic records.”
“Why do you carry genetic records on a rescue mission?”
“Standard procedure,” Harenn said. “It allows me—the Children—to check mitochondrial DNA of rescued Silent slaves and see if they have any relatives on Bellerophon.”
“You ran the scans three times on the Poltergeist,” Lucia said.
“Yes. I thought the initial results were a mistake, so I ran the test again, and then once more. When I was absolutely sure of my data, I called you and Ben into the medical bay. You know the rest.”
“What about the files?” Ben asked. “The computer must have made a whole bunch of them.”
“Erased and scrubbed,” Harenn said. “This is standard procedure after a...a...” Harenn trailed off and her brown eyes went vacant.
“What?” Kendi asked.
“I am trying to remember if I scrubbed the backup files.” Harenn’s brow furrowed. “I do not remember doing it. On the other hand, I do not remember not doing it.”
“Another place to check,” Lucia said. “The team that refurbishes the ships would have access to those files. I’m not a computer expert, though. Ben, if you checked the Poltergeist’s system, could you tell...?”
“Yes,” Ben said. “Though I couldn’t necessarily tell who. Just when. Or if.”
“Let’s look there first, then.” Lucia rose. “Irfan willing, it’ll be a short hunt.”
Lucia and Ben headed for the door. Kendi and Harenn followed. Lucia halted.
“We don’t need all of you,” she said.
“I’m not staying behind,” Kendi said. “I want to know now.”
“As do I,” Harenn said.
Lucia sighed. “Father Kendi, I can’t work with someone staring over my shoulder. I promise we’ll call the moment we learn something.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Lu—”
The doorbell rang and the computer broke in. “Attention! Attention! Wanda Petrie requests entry. She claims she has urgent business with Father Kendi.”
“We’ll just nip out the back,” Lucia said, and vanished with Ben before Kendi could react.
“They settled that, didn’t they?” Harenn murmured.
“Attention! Attention! Wanda—”
“Irene,” Kendi interrupted, “tell Wanda Petrie she can come in. We’ll meet in her the living room.”
Wanda Petrie burst into the living room with a thunderstorm on her face. Her hard shoes slammed the floor with every step, and her sharp eyes looked ready to strike Kendi down. He took an involuntary step backward. Harenn withdrew to a corner chair and sat.
“Perhaps my instructions were not clear, Father Weaver,” Petrie snapped without preamble. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“About what?” Kendi said.
She whipped out a data pad and jabbed at it. A head-and-shoulders hologram of Kendi popped up. “You gave an unauthorized press conference this morning. You entered into a debate with Senator Mitchell Foxglove, and he made a right fool of you. We had to assign a team of five people to spin the damage.”
“It wasn’t a debate,” Kendi said. “We just—”
Petrie slapped the data pad on the coffee table with a crack. Kendi’s image bobbled. “Anytime you enter into a public conversation with a candidate, it becomes a debate. The fact that dozens of reporters witnessed the entire thing made it even worse.”
“I didn’t say anything that—”
“Three of the feeds caught and broadcast the phrase What kind of bullshit is that,” Petrie said. “You also called Foxglove’s remarks, and I quote, bloody nonsense. Then you confronted Foxglove about the lack of Silent on his campaign team.”
“The man is an asshole,” Kendi shot back. “He as much said that Silent weren’t human and that they should be shut away in their own little enclaves.”
“Your opinion of Foxglove doesn’t matter,” Petrie growled. “What matters is that you called him names in public and made a fool of yourself in front a pack of reporters. Thank god we haven’t officially announced that you’re supporting Senator Reza’s campaign. As it is, we’ll have to delay everything to let the situation calm down.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Kendi said.
Petrie closed her eyes. Her lips were pressed so tightly together Kendi half expected to see blood. “It is, Father Kendi. Very bad indeed. We scheduled a press conference for Senator Reza—after inventing a reason that had nothing to do with you—and arranged for reporters who are friendly to our cause to ask questions about you so she can make light of what you said. It won’t be an easy confere
nce because you can bet Foxglove will do his best to make sure a few hostile reporters attend. You’re making her sweat in front of a planet, Father Kendi, and if you can’t keep your mouth shut, I’ll have to recommend you be pulled from the campaign. Right now, you’re more liability than asset.”
“My,” Harenn said from her chair.
Kendi sat in a chair of his own, feeling abashed. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Grandma, and that’s exactly what he had done. “Is there any way I can help clean up?”
“Not right now,” Petrie said, still on her feet. “It’s best if you stay out of the public eye for a few days. I’ve cancelled your first speaking engagement and rearranged your calendar. We’ll have to delay the workshop, too—the man who is supposed to train you is busy cleaning up.”
“For what it’s worth,” Kendi said, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t help Senator Reza.” Petrie took up an easy chair and crossed her legs at the ankle. Her skirt displayed athletic legs. “But your sentiment is noted. You have to change some behaviors, Father.”
“If you’re going to bawl me out on a regular basis, I think you’d better call me Kendi.”
“And I’m Wanda. I’m not entirely unsympathetic, understand, but my primary responsibility is to Senator Reza.” She cleared her throat. “I suppose I should have known better. Politics is a new arena for you.”
“I’ve played monastery politics for years,” Kendi said. “They’re just different. National elections are a new game, a con game, really, and I have to learn the rules. Then I can break them.”
Petrie looked pained, and Kendi flashed her a grin. “Joke,” he said.
“It was not,” Harenn murmured.
“I need to discuss another matter,” Petrie said. “With all that’s happened—and going to happen—I think it would be prudent for you and Mr. Rymar to take a security detail.”
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