Offspring

by Steven Harper

  “All life.”

  “Furthermore,” Ched-Theree continued, pressing a hand to the side of her head and listening, “the explosive was set off by remote control, not a timer. In other words, your potential killer was watching while it happened.” She paused. “Father Kendi, who knew you would be in this place at this time?”

  Kendi’s mouth was dry. “I’m not sure. Me. Ben. Keith. Maybe my sister Martina, if Keith told her. Lewa Tan and Gretchen knew, but I only mentioned it to them just before we headed over. They couldn’t have told anyone in time for them to set up a...a trap like this.”

  “We will, of course, speak with Mr. Rymar and Brother Keith,” Ched-Theree said.

  “It wasn’t them,” Kendi said hotly.

  “They may have spoken to someone about your meeting, Father Kendi,” Ched-Theree said. “And we must speak with all those involved in any case. They may have seen something important.”

  “Right.” Kendi rubbed a tired hand across his face.

  “The Guardians have been reading the death threats you forward to us,” Ched-Theree continued. “Our psychologists have so far informed us that the senders are ultimately harmless, though we shall certainly look at them more closely. Do you have other enemies, Father?”

  “A long list, I’m afraid,” Kendi said ruefully. “I’ve stolen slaves from half the slavers in this part of the galaxy. I’m sure they’d love to see me squashed under something heavy. And I’ve been campaigning for Senator Reza lately, so one of her enemies might want to see me dead. More recently a bunch of us really pissed off a whole truckload of people at Silent Acquisitions when we destroyed one of their pet projects. Maybe they hired an assassin.”

  “We can narrow the field,” Tan said, “by taking into account who knew you’d be on that bridge at that particular time. When did you contact Keith to set up the meeting time?”

  “Two days ago,” Kendi said. “I sent him a text message and he replied the same way. Ben keeps my messages scrambled better than a chef’s eggs, though, so I can’t imagine anyone would have intercepted my mail.”

  “Whom did you tell you were meeting your brother?” Ched-Theree asked again. “Please consider carefully.”

  Kendi thought. “No one I haven’t already mentioned. I didn’t even write it on my calendar—just set my message program to remind me of it in case I forgot, which I did.”

  Ched-Theree had Kendi go over the events leading up to the attack twice more before Kendi finally begged off, pleading hunger and fatigue.

  “Very well,” Ched-Theree said. “I will give you my contact codes. If you remember anything, anything at all, let me know immediately, even if it is the middle of the night.”

  To this Kendi agreed. He turned to leave—

  —and found himself facing a phalanx of reporters. “Father Kendi, can you comment on what happened here today?” “Father Kendi, was this an assassination attempt?” “Father Kendi, what impact do you think this will have on Senator Reza’s foundering campaign?” “Father Kendi—” “Father Kendi—” “Father Kendi—”

  Kendi blinked at them. He had been concentrating so hard on his report to Ched-Theree that he hadn’t even noticed their arrival. A holographic “Keep Out—Guardian Scene” border hastily erected by the uniformed Guardians had kept them out of Kendi’s face, but now they were blocking the only bridge leading away from the crime scene.

  “Father Kendi has no comment for you vultures,” Tan bellowed. “Now move it or I’ll move you!”

  Gretchen, Keith, and Ben appeared, released by their own inquisitive inspectors, and they joined with Tan to form a wedge that plowed through the crowd with Kendi in the middle. Free-floating microphones buzzed and flitted around his head as the reporters continued calling out questions.

  “Father Kendi, who wants to kill you?” “Father Kendi, was this more than just an accident?” “Father Kendi, can you comment on the recent lifting of the mining restrictions?” “Father Kendi—” “Father Kendi—” “Father Kendi—”

  Kendi felt his shoulder and neck muscles tighten like screws. He didn’t need this right now. He wanted to shout at them to leave him alone, to stop taking his picture and quit their questions. But he said nothing, forcing himself to move at Tan’s pace. Twice she shoved aside a reporter who refused to give ground. Gretchen, meanwhile, tripped a human and elbowed a Ched-Balaar hard in the ribs. Ben raised a fist to one man, who shied away when he saw the thick muscle in Ben’s upper arm.

  Finally they broke free of the crowd. They trotted across a bridge with the reporters in hot pursuit. Once Kendi reached the other side, Tan turned and blocked the end of the bridge. She drew her pistol.

  “Go the fuck away,” she growled.

  “You won’t shoot us,” one of the front-runners said.

  In answer, Tan aimed at one of the four support ropes holding up the bridge. There was a flash of light, and the rope thumped to the wood like a dead snake. The bridge swayed. Tan aimed at a second rope. “s one, the reporters turned and fled.

  “Nice,” Keith said.

  “Let’s move,” Tan said.

  “You wouldn’t have cut the bridge out from under them,” Ben said.

  Tan shrugged. “The safety net beneath would catch them. One or two would have broken something, I’m sure. Would’ve been fun to see.”

  They made it back home without further incident. Harenn was waiting for them, and she gave Kendi an uncharacteristic hug.

  “The story has already flooded the newsfeeds,” she said. “I am glad to see you well.”

  “Someone got the whole thing on holo,” Bedj-ka reported. “It was rigid! Gretchen shoved you aside just like an action hero!”

  “Wait until the sim-game comes out, kid,” Gretchen said. “I get to be a fighter and a lover.”

  “Someone got it on holo?” Kendi asked. “Who?”

  “Some woman who happened to be taking images of her kids,” Bedj-ka said. “It was—”

  “Can you show it to me?” Kendi said. “It might have a clue.”

  This hadn’t occurred to Bedj-ka. He scampered over to the coffee table and snatched up his data pad like a wriggling puppy that had just discovered a way to please its master. A few taps brought up a newsfeed hologram.

  The image was wobbly, clearly amateur. Two human children, age four or five, both blond with green eyes, waved at a camera. Kendi saw himself in the background starting to cross the bridge. Gretchen came a few paces behind. Keith stood on the other side with his back to Kendi and his hands in his pockets. The little boy reached behind his sister’s head and made a rude gesture. A female voice from behind the camera admonished him. Kendi reached the halfway point of the bridge, and a flash of light flared from the talltree just above and behind him. Gretchen glanced upward and flung herself forward at Kendi, who was just noticing the shower of wood chips. The heavy branch above was already falling. Gretchen connected, and both she and Kendi went flying. Kendi landed on the platform beyond the bridge just as the branch crashed like a falling giant onto the bridge. It plunged downward out of sight without even slowing. The safety net beneath was ripped to shreds like an old spiderweb. Screams erupted all around the shopping area. Gretchen was lying with the lower half her body on the bridge as it collapsed, and she scrabbled madly at the platform to avoid following the branch down to the forest floor. Kendi turned, looking dazed, saw Gretchen, and pulled her to safety. The holo ended. A newscaster appeared and went into a report about a monk who had gone missing and left a suicide note. The Guardians were searching for the body. Kendi switched it off.

  “We have to send that recording to Inspector Ched-Theree,” Ben said. “If she hasn’t seen it already.”

  Kendi reset the recording and watched it again. This time he scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces. The boy and girl, unfortunately, were much the way, and once the tree branch fell, the view became even more wobbly as the woman behind the camera became agitated. Maybe the Guardians would see something. He sent
a copy to Inspector Ched-Theree and watched the holo one more time. And once more. Then one more time again.

  Eventually Ben and Harenn dragged him away and forced him to eat something. Keith had gone home. Tan announced that she wanted to look at the recording and absconded with the data pad after shooting Ben a pointed look. Ben plunked down on the sofa next to Kendi, who raised his hands.

  “I surrender,” he said.

  “Surrender?”

  “Lewa wants you to distract me from staring at the holo too much. I’m no match for the pair of you, so I surrender.” He rolled his head. “And I’m getting a crick in my neck. That, in case you missed it, was a hint.”

  Ben gave a lopsided grin and reached around to massage Kendi’s neck with warm hands. “Let the Guardians and the police handle this one,” he said. “It’s their job, not yours. Lewa, Gretchen, and I will keep you safe, all right?”

  His hands moved lower over Kendi’s back and Kendi felt his muscles turning to butter. “All right. But wouldn’t it be better to do this where I could lie down?”

  In the bedroom, Ben continued working on Kendi’s tense body. He groaned under Ben’s talented hands and felt his worries ease. Other people could handle the problems. He didn’t have to solve everything personally. Maybe just for today he could let everything slide and in the morning everything would look better.

  In the morning, Wanda Petrie stormed into the house before Ben and Kendi could even finish breakfast. Her clothes were wrinkled and her hair looked windblown, as if she had flown in through a hurricane.

  “It wasn’t her fault,” she burst out. “God, she didn’t even know.”

  “Who didn’t know what?” Kendi asked. Tension snapped his muscles taut again. “Wanda, calm down. You aren’t making sense.”

  “Have some tea,” Ben said, emptying the morning pot into a clean cup. “It’s raspberry.”

  “Thank you.” Petrie gulped down a mouthful and visibly composed herself. “Foxglove is going to break the news this afternoon. It turns out...turns out...god, I can’t even say it.”

  “What, for heaven’s sake?” Kendi said. “Just blurt it out.”

  “One of the Senator’s primary contributors has connections with a known crime syndicate,” Petrie said. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “It’s as if she’s been taking money from gangsters. God, we had no idea. None!”

  “Shit,” Ben said. “Grandma knows crooks?”

  “That’s the whole point, Ben—she didn’t know. Do you think if we had any inkling that we’d’ve taken the contribution? But it’s too late.”

  “Who is it?” Kendi asked.

  “A man named Willen Yaraye. He’s been brought up on charges of racketeering, embezzlement, money laundering, and half a dozen other ‘enterprises.’ We’ve been up all night trying to deal with it. I had to get away for a while and found myself at your doorstep.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face with it. “There isn’t really anything the two of you can do, I’m afraid. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “We needed to know,” Kendi said, “and you needed to unload. Look, this Yaraye bloke has only been charged. He may not be guilty.”

  “Oh, he’s guilty all right.” Petrie blew her nose. “The Senator used her connections to get information on the prosecution’s case and there’s no doubt. It’ll be a long, nasty trial, and you may be sure that the Senator will be dragged through it. There’s already talk of investigating her campaign as a money laundering organization.”

  “Has it been used that way?” Kendi asked. “The truth, please.”

  Petrie shook her head. “Not that I know of. Yaraye made his donations, ate at several fund-raising dinners, attended a few parties, and that was the end of the Senator’s involvement with him. In retrospect I think he was using her to make connections with other government officials. God, this is disaster!”

  “What about the news about Silent children coming back into the Dream?” Ben asked. “Once Grandma reveals that, no one’ll even remember something as petty as a crooked donor.”

  “We’ve talked about that,” Petrie said. “And the Senator thinks the same way. That’s why she’s decided to break the news today instead of tomorrow. We aren’t fully prepared, but we’ve no other choice.” She sighed and gave Ben a wan smile. “And if that doesn’t restore her, I suppose I still have a trick or two left.”

  “How did you learn all this publicity stuff, anyway?” Kendi asked curiously. “Bellerophon hasn’t had a gubernatorial election since it joined the Independence Confederation.”

  “Research,” she said succinctly. “Lots and lots of research. And I seem to have a talent for publicity. I love doing it. Or I did.”

  Ben patted her hand. “It’ll be fine. The Silent children will wipe out everyone’s objections, you watch.”

  “They’d better. Otherwise we’re sunk. And I can’t let her lose. I won’t let her lose.” Petrie drained her cup and rose. “Thanks for listening, gentlemen. Watch the feeds today. We’re going to make history.”

  And she left. Kendi flung himself backward against his chair. “What a start to the day. If I ever complain about being bored, I want you to slap me hard.”

  “Want to go over to Grandma’s house to watch the feeds?” Ben said. “It’ll be more interesting. Lewa will like it—more guards over there.”

  Kendi shrugged. “Sure. Do you think there’ll be food involved? The cupboards are empty again.”

  Sister Reeta Gerrold checked her fingernail for the time, swore, and tried to hurry. It would be the third time this week if she were late, and although there was no way she could be fired, it wasn’t fair to the others coming off-shift. She rounded a corner and came to a halt. The double-wide walkway over to the monastery’s main communication building was crammed with demonstrators, both human and Ched-Balaar. Signs bobbed up and down. Ched-Pirasku 1! Ched-Balaar support Ched-Pirasku! One Planet, One People! Irfan Called For Moderation!

  “Shit,” she said. “How am I going to get through all that?”

  At the forefront of the demonstration stood a dark-haired man. He was leading a chant for the humans while the Ched-Balaar in the crowd provided percussion. Reeta made an exasperated noise. She had to get in to work. “s one of the few Silent Children left, she helped keep the monastery afloat, if only barely. Now these idiots were—

  Something thumped against the back of her neck. Reeta turned and caught a glimpse of a blond woman before the drug took effect and the political chants faded into darkness.

  Salman’s house was a beehive when Kendi and Ben arrived with Tan and Gretchen in tow. People rushed in and out carrying packages and data pads. A harried-looking house servant showed them in and Salman immediately set them to work assembling “personal” messages to send the other campaign donors.

  “You’ll be earning your lunch,” she said. “And don’t stray to far, Kendi Weaver. I’ll need you close by as my confirmation when I make my speech this evening about the children. Petrie will brief you on what to say.”

  Kendi almost made a smart remark, then changed his mind. Salman’s face was lined and heavy, as if the earth itself were dragging at her. Rather than add to her tension, he merely smiled and nodded.

  Once she was out of earshot, Ben said, “Sorry. I should’ve realized it wouldn’t be interesting in a good way.”

  “I’ll collect later,” Kendi said wryly.

  The house was filled with noise. Data pads chimed, people chattered, and Ched-Balaar clattered. Servants dashed around handing out snacks and drinks. Kendi found a quiet corner where he and Ben could work on Salman’s messages. A few hours later, two servants set up a food table. Everyone filled plates or trenchers, depending upon species, but none of them paused in their working to eat. Kendi alternated computer work with bites of sandwich.

  “He is on now,” Ched-Mulaar announced. Kendi turned in time to see a giant hologram of Mitchell Foxglove pop up in the center of the enormous living room. The noise st
opped and everyone watched. Kendi swallowed a bite of bread and ham.

  “It has come to my attention,” Foxglove said, “that a human named Willen Yaraye has been arrested on several charges relating to organized crime. This in itself is a remarkable event—Bellerophon was not known for its organized crime before the Despair. But more remarkable still is the fact that this alleged criminal has donated hundreds of thousands of freemarks to the campaign of my worthy opponent, Senator Salman Reza.”

  “cross the room, Salman closed her eyes, then opened them and set her mouth hard.

  “I want it known here and now,” Foxglove continued, “that the charges against Mr. Yaraye have not yet been proven and I would not in any way want the fact that he donated heavily to Senator Reza to besmirch her campaign. The charges may be mistaken or false, and even if they are true, it doesn’t necessarily follow that the Senator knew anything about his alleged criminal dealings. After all, it takes a lot of time to run a major campaign, and Senator Reza couldn’t possibly follow everything that happens right under her nose.”

  “Bastard,” spat Petrie. “He’s damning the Senator with praise. He knows the media will crucify her while his mealy-mouthed words make him sound like he tried to stop them.”

  “Shush!” Salman said.

  “However, I don’t come before you today with nothing but bad news,” Foxglove said with a wide smile. “I have great and wonderful news as well. I’m sure everyone will be happy to hear that—yes, it’s absolutely true—that Silent children are once again entering the Dream.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Cooking may be chemistry, but it’s no fun to eat a chemistry experiment.”

  —Irfan Qasad

  The house was absolutely still. No one moved, or even breathed. Then a roar crashed through the room as everyone talked, clattered, hooted, and chattered at once. Kendi swore. Ben stared with open mouth. Petrie gesticulated madly at Ched-Mulaar and shouted something incoherent. Tan and Gretchen watched from the walls, looking unhappy.