Then he stands back and lets Meva test me. And has the doubt she instilled confirmed. “I have to get back to the Main House.” Jani hurried into the street, where the sun shone and the air tasted of the sea instead of the chalk of tile dust, the gall of softly spoken words.
The first dream had been simple enough. Half walking, half sliding down a dune in her drop-dead whites, the most formal of the Service dress uniforms, trying to reach the tents, just visible in the distance. The Laumrau tents.
But she never reached them. The slide down the dune never ended, and the tents never drew closer.
“That one’s not bad.” Jani had heard worse. From Niall. From others, over the years. Seen worse, during a time when her unmonitored hybridization warred with her Service augmentation, and old friends and enemies returned from the dead to say hello.
But she had never dreamed of Knevçet Shèràa. Until these last few weeks…
“Stress.” Jani perched on the rock formation just outside the Main House’s rear entry. “Fear.” Worry about Thalassa. And now this. She tried to work up the nerve to get up, to go inside and meet John’s lawyers. What if she hurt John’s case? What if she said the wrong thing?
Hello, my name is Jani Kilian, and I have blood on my hands.
Twenty-six Laumrau, taking sacrament in their tents.
Twenty-six faces. Each so different, yet wearing the same look of surprise when she raised her shooter and fired.
“I did what I had to.” Jani picked up a stone and skipped it across the scrubby ground. “I’d do it again.”
She had just gotten used to the everlasting slide down the dune when, last night, a new dream took its place. She wore desertweights this time. Stood at the opening of the first tent. Tried to rip open the flap, only to find that there wasn’t one. Kept trying, and kept trying, grabbing for something that wasn’t there—
—until she heard the noise behind her, the hum of a shooter in active mode, and knew if she moved, she would die…
…but that if she stood still, she would die anyway.
“Decisions, decisions.” Jani forced a laugh, then fell silent. Then she eased to her feet, walked to the door, and keyed inside.
CHAPTER 7
Jani heard the raised voices as soon as she entered the courtyard. Two daysuited men stood nose-to-nose in the middle of the largest demiroom, while around them other daysuits watched in grim silence. Meanwhile, another group stood in the foyer, three men and two women with handcarts, their attention fixed as well on the escalating argument.
Then a familiar figure moved from the shadow of a planter and hurried toward her.
“Where the hell have you been?” John’s voice shook.
“I was with Tsecha.” Jani looked past John to the arguing men. “What happened?”
“Officials from Justice arrived fifteen minutes ago with a warrant.” John led her back across the courtyard toward the demiroom. “They want everything—records, data. Anything related to research and treatment.”
Jani looked toward the group with the handcarts. The empty handcarts. “What have they taken?”
“Nothing. Yet.” John stuck his clenched fist against his thigh with every stride. “If Quino thinks—”
Quino? As Jani approached, the arguing men fell silent. Then the shorter of the two turned and planted himself in her path.
“Ms. Kilian.” He was a small-boned hawk of a man, attired in darkest blue. “I will have to ask you to—”
Quino. “We’ve met.” Jani pressed close, crowding him, forcing him back. “Joaquin Loiaza. You once stood between me and a ComPol arrest warrant. At John’s behest, if I recall.”
Loiaza stiffened. “Yes, I do remember.” He recovered smoothly, his smile a cool, social curve of lip. “Such a long time ago—”
“Less than two years, but I can understand why you might prefer to forget it considering you’re now playing for the other team.” It was Jani’s turn to smile as Loiaza’s face darkened. “Explain your presence here.”
Loiaza’s eyes widened as he took in the full-bore hybrid turnout—the gold-toned skin, the green-on-green eyes. The top of his head barely reached Jani’s shoulder, and like most every other man faced with that height difference, he countered by standing as tall as his spinal column would allow and raising his voice. “We are here by the authority of the Commonwealth—”
“Which means nothing to me.” Jani paused to breathe, then let the words flow. “This is not an Elyan settlement, Mister Loiaza. This is Thalassa, an autonomous enclave. The Commonwealth has no jurisdiction here.” Out of the corner of her eye Jani saw the man with whom Loiaza had argued scrabble in his jacket pocket. He removed a handheld, then turned and started whispering to another man who stood nearby. “As secular suborn to the enclave dominant, ná Gisa Pilon, I am the authority here—”
“Indeed?” Loiaza glanced back at the group behind him, who had broken out the handhelds as well. “I do not recall Thalassa ever having been recognized by the Commonwealth government.”
“His Excellency, Stanislaw Markos, Governor of Elyas, has seen fit to recognize our autonomy by treating the Thalassan boundaries as borders, and in other ways. I will leave it to you to explain to him the irrelevancy of that decision.” Jani detected the flicker in Loiaza’s eyes, and knew she’d scored a hit. You didn’t inform Markos you were coming here, did you? Bad Quino. Nothing like pissing off your host by invading enclaves and issuing warrants without telling him first. “In any case, there are protocols that should have been followed prior to this…invasion, which were not. For example, we did not receive a formal request from the Commonwealth government to speak with Doctor Shroud concerning their wish to speak with him concerning his Neoclona holdings.”
“Is this the imperial ‘we,’ ná Kièrshia? Do you speak for the absent ná Gisa as well, or is the act of obstruction of justice yours alone?” Loiaza’s mud-brown eyes had hardened to stone. “No matter. Allow me to formally request now that we be allowed to discuss the matter of divestiture of Neoclona holdings with your suborn—”
“Denied.” Jani glanced at the other lawyers. All handhelds had been set aside—she had their undivided attention now. “The conversations that have already occurred will be considered to have never taken place. Any documents or other materials that were taken will be returned to Doctor Shroud immediately. You will depart Thalassa now and reapply formally for permission to speak with him.”
Loiaza kicked the last shred of social pretense out the window. “This is ridiculous.” His voice emerged as a hiss. “You and your Thalassans are medical mishaps, Kilian, not a sovereign entity.”
“We’re both, actually, which means that Doctor Shroud’s skills as a physician as well as his researches are vital to our continued health and well-being. To deny him the right and ability—not to mention the wherewithal—to practice his profession threatens the lives of all members of this enclave. Innocent members. I think the appropriate term for what might follow if you succeed in your efforts to prevent him from continuing his work is ‘humanitarian crisis.’” Jani turned her back on Loiaza and held out her hand to the man with whom he’d argued. “I’m assuming you’re one of the good guys? Hello. We haven’t met.”
The man took her hand lightly, as though he feared a shock. “Rudo Sikara, Ms. Kili—ná Kièrshia.” His skin was so black it seemed tinged with blue, the reddened whites of his eyes the only outward betrayal of the current stressful interlude. “This is my colleague, James Cossa.” He nodded toward the other man, who was younger, lighter of complexion, and even more battered looking.
Jani hesitated as her backbrain sent out a warning barrage. “Sikara and Cossa. I’ve heard of you.” Her gut tightened. “John said he’d hired an experienced firm. He didn’t mention it was the most famous in the Outer Circle.”
“I am flattered.” Sikara’s smile was tight. “I wish we could have met before this. That we could have spoken.” His voice matched his smile. “Do you have any justifica
tion for the claims of sovereignty you’ve just made?”
“I believe I do.” Jani lowered her voice as Loiaza and his team strained to overhear. “Last year, the Commonwealth Service ceased efforts to press charges of treason and desertion against two officers because they had begun the process of hybridization. As hybrids, they were no longer considered eligible for the Service. In the end it was decided that they came under the jurisdiction of the Elyan Haárin dominant, ná Feyó Tal, who at the time was considered Thalassa’s secular dominant. Since that time, she has ceded the governance of Thalassa to ná Gisa Pilon.”
“That should not necessarily be construed as an acknowledgment of sovereignty,” Loiaza’s nasal voice sounded. “A colonial base may find itself in a situation where acquiescing to local practice is preferable to pursuing a course of action that might jeopardize its future dealings with the native population.”
Jani turned on him, once more forcing him to backpedal. “Li Cao would do well to follow the Fort Karistos example.”
“This is not a matter of local interest only,” Loiaza bit out. “The decisions reached here will have far-reaching implications.”
Jani stared at the man until a small vein in his temple started to throb. “John’s your test case. You’ll destroy him to keep the rest of the Commonwealth in line. Think you want to hybridize? Remember what we did to the head of Neoclona, and think again.”
“Indeed.” Sikara stepped up beside Jani. He wore the simplest of black suits and a white shirt, accented by a yellow and green striped neckpiece. “Nasty precedent, Counselor.” He arched one graying eyebrow.
Loiaza licked his lips. “Doctor Shroud is a special case.”
“So any decisions reached as a result of this ‘special case’ will never be cited as precedent in support of any other action against another hybrid?” Cossa proved the more expressive of the two, from his more fashionable brown suit to his continued gesturing as he spoke. “Pull the other one, Quino—it whistles the Commonwealth anthem!”
Silence settled like a layer of ash. Then Loiaza turned to Sikara. “Since we have been evicted pending clarification of Jani Kilian’s status as godhead—” He glared at her. “We will return tomorrow, Counselor.”
“Pending clarification of Thalassa’s status, Counselor.” Sikara reactivated his handheld and began jotting. “I, meanwhile, will contact Governor Markos. And ná Feyó Tal as well, whose acquaintance I have enjoyed for several years.”
Loiaza started to speak, then closed his mouth and beckoned to the other lawyers. They followed him from the room single file, like nestlings trailing after a pissed-off mother duck, dragging the other Justice Ministry staffers and their empty handcarts along in their wake.
“Well,” Sikara said as the door closed. “That took a turn I did not expect.” He sat on the U-shaped sofa that dominated the space and regarded Jani with tired eyes. “As I said, it would have been nice if we could have spoken prior to this. You compelled us to reveal aspects of our defense that I wanted to keep close to the vest until we had all the facts.”
Jani glanced at John, who perched on the edge of an end table, arms folded, staring at the floor. “What difference does it make whether they know this or not? They did what they did—they can’t cover it up. They invaded a sovereign state, and they didn’t inform Markos before they tramped through his flower bed to do it. They’re in trouble.”
“Only if Governor Markos’s decision concerning Thalassa’s status stands up to challenge.” Cossa picked up a long-forgotten glass of iced tea, which dripped condensation on his trousers as he drank. “He serves at Li Cao’s pleasure. She can pressure him to change his mind.”
“And Feyó can pressure him not to.” Jani massaged the base of her neck and felt the knot. “We’re a long way from Chicago. The clout flows in both directions out here.”
“Li Cao will fight—she has too much to lose.” Cossa paused to take a napkin that Sikara thrust at him, and wrapped it around the glass. “If she can destroy John, other humans will be dissuaded from hybridizing by the threat of loss of profession and property.” His eyes lit. “I foresee a battle the first time a Family member decides to seek treatment.”
“Unfortunately, none of them have yet taken the plunge.” Sikara gazed over at John. “That we know of.”
“I shouldn’t have to remind you, of all people, of the concept of confidentiality.” John spoke without raising his head. “It’s their secret to keep until they start to show.” He worked his fingers as he spoke, like a musician warming up. Then he stilled and fell silent.
When it became obvious that his client had no more to say, Sikara stood. “I have known Quino for years. The best way to handle him is to let him think he’s winning from the start. He grows smug, and with that smugness comes complacency. And with that complacency comes the tendency to make mistakes.” His expression grew wistful. “Ah well. Still a great deal of room for arrogance.” He glanced at Jani. “A great deal.” He hefted the briefbag that had rested on the floor at his feet. “In any event, this will be a precedent-setting case.”
“To the office!” Cossa slung his briefbag over his shoulder and clapped his hands. “Let’s go put on the mud clothes.”
“My colleague has such a colorful way of expressing himself.” Sikara shook his head with mock gravitas. “John, we will be speaking later.” He bowed to Jani. “Ná Kièrshia. We should talk soon.” The light in his eye sharpened for an instant, as though soon meant before you speak to anyone else about anything at all. Then he was gone, and his partner after him.
Jani waited until the men left, until the door closed and the silence settled once more. “I’m sorry I was late.” She untied the jacket from around her waist, then walked to the sofa and sat. “I was held up at the meeting house and—”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” John’s voice emerged like a shudder, cold and deep in the bone. “When you open your mouth, do you have any idea what will fall out? Or are you just making it up as you go?”
Jani stilled. Is this more of what Val warned me about? She glanced around the demirooms, the courtyard, on the lookout for a familiar head ducking behind shrubbery. No wonder he made himself scarce. “I got them out of here, didn’t I? It gave you some room to maneuver.” She spread the jacket across her legs and stroked it like a pet. “I believe there’s enough precedent to support the concept of our sovereignty—”
“Which reinforces the idea that I’m no longer human enough to run my own goddamned company.” John stood, slowly, as though movement pained him. “There’s a reason why men like Sikara and Cossa are paid a great deal of money to dig poor bastards like me out of holes. It’s because they know what to say and when to say it. They don’t just blurt. They don’t give the game away.”
Jani’s hands stalled in mid-stroke. “I’m sorry I upset Mr. Sikara. I will apologize the next time I see—”
“You humiliated Joaquin Loiaza. Do you think he’s just going to sit back and take it?” John looked toward the courtyard, where a couple of Thalassans fussed over a flowering shrub and pretended not to be eavesdropping. “We were prepared to give up some things,” he continued with lowered voice. “We were prepared to let them think they’d won this round. It made me sick to do it, but I had no choice.” He started to pace. “It’s a dance. I’ve led all my life, and now I have to follow, because the steps are everything and if I put a foot wrong, I lose everything.”
Jani looked toward the courtyard, where more Thalassans had gathered. Yes, some carried trays of condiments and others table linens, but set-up for late afternoon sacrament usually didn’t begin for another half-hour. But today, there’s a floor show. “Why didn’t you just tell me—”
“I’m telling you now.” John stopped in front of her. “I should have told you sooner. That was my mistake, and I will pay for it, assuming I haven’t already.” He bent closer, mindful of their audience. “Some things are not your job. Some things, you leave to those who know what the hell
they’re doing. Do you really believe you said anything that Sikara and Cossa didn’t already know? They were going to wait until they spoke with Markos and prepared him for the onslaught, until they had everything in place. The concept of Thalassan autonomy is a smoke screen. The idea that someone who decides to hybridize risks losing their livelihood, their life’s work…” His eyes clouded. “That’s the more important point.” He bit a thumbnail. That was a new tic, one that the angle of his hand revealed had already claimed the index and middle fingers. “Quino’s sharp, but as Sikara said, he makes mistakes. This dramatic raid of his was a mistake. You’ve given him a chance to recover.”
Jani sat back, fighting the invisible weight that pressed down on her shoulders. “They won’t have time. This isn’t Chicago—they’re out of their element here.”
“They have what they need. A few Service officers. A few colonial officials. If Stash Markos isn’t placed under house arrest by sunset, we’ll be very lucky.” John laughed, a humorless bark. “Of course, they won’t call it that. They’ll invent a reason to place him in protective custody. A newly discovered assassination plot, or something.”
More Thalassans appeared, and the setup for the afternoon meal that Jani always thought of as “fourses” began in earnest. Her stomach growled as aromas of baking bread and various tangy sauces reached her. The animal, demanding her feeding, even as the higher being’s gut twisted and she wished she could crawl in a cave and hide. “But if they took your records—”
“That’s the documents examiner in you, fixed on paper.” John’s voice defrosted, a little. “I do keep copies. And the most important things…let’s just say they’re safe, and leave it at that.” He quieted. Then he circled around the sofa and strode to the lift. “I’ll be downstairs, working. While I still have work to do, and time in which to do it.” He nodded curtly to the few Thalassans who offered greetings. Waited by the lift for a few moments, then struck the wall with the flat of his hand and headed for the stairs.
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