Relativity

by R S Penney

  There were three – criminal trials always involved three arbiters – but Ben didn't know any of them. Not that he was familiar with many people in the justice system, but when you worked in intelligence, you generally made connections.

  The woman on the left had short black hair and a dark complexion; the man in the middle was an older fellow with graying hair and rosy cheeks. And finally, the man on the right had blonde hair and a thick goatee that seemed at odds with his tanned skin.

  Ben stood at the entrance to the courtroom with hands clasped behind his back, his head bowed respectfully. That was part of the formality. Any moment now, he would be called forward to hear the charges against him.

  At his side, Garin Covern waited with stiff posture. The man wore black pants and a red coat that fell to mid-thigh, a coat that drew the eye with the gold trim along the hem and the cuffs of each sleeve.

  “Tanaben Loranai,” the head arbiter called out. “Approach.”

  Closing his eyes, Ben took a deep breath to calm his nerves. You can do this, he thought, nodding to himself. You always said that you would accept the consequences of your actions. Time to make good on that.

  He started down an aisle that ran through rows of wooden bench seats that were – for the most part – unoccupied. He spotted a few of the cops that he'd spoken to outside Professor Nareo's house, but other than them, the three arbiters, two lawyers and himself, the courtroom was empty.

  The prosecuting attorney was an older woman in a blue coat with silver trim. Until this moment, he had only interacted with her once, on the day when he agreed to a plea bargain. Three months of psychiatric rehabilitation and a formal discharge from the LIS. On top of that, he would be unable to travel off-world until he completed his sentence. All in all, it could be a lot worse.

  Ben approached a table on the left side of the aisle, waiting patiently for permission to sit. Seconds later, his attorney joined him. In the hush that followed, Ben could swear that he heard his own heart beating.

  The middle arbiter looked up to frown at him. “This is Case XJ-734C,” he began. “Arraignment of one Tanaben Loranai in the matter of weapons smuggling and possession of illegal military-grade weapons technology.”

  “Ms. Kyson,” the female arbiter said. “Are you ready to proceed?”

  Across the aisle, the prosecuting attorney stood up tall, straight-backed and proud as an eagle soaring the open skies. “I am, Arbiter,” she said in a crisp, clear voice.

  The third arbiter – the younger man with the blonde goatee – studied Ben intently. “Mr. Covern,” he said in a voice that echoed through the entire courtroom. “Is your client ready to proceed?”

  “He is, Arbiter.”

  The middle arbiter stood and stared into the distance, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. “Tanaben Loranai,” he said in a voice that echoed through the entire room. “To the charge of possession of illegal, military-grade weapons tech, how do you plead?”

  “Guilty.”

  “To the charge of weapons smuggling, how do you plead?”

  Ben shut his eyes tight, hanging his head in shame. He felt warmth in his cheeks. “Guilty, Arbiter.” The words came out hoarsely, but he managed to hang on to some small scrap of dignity.

  With a heavy sigh, the arbiter dropped back into his chair and folded his hands on the table. “The terms stipulated in the plea agreement state that the defendant will be immediately discharged from-”

  “A moment, Arbiter.”

  The voice that echoed through the courtroom spoke with such authority it brought a hush to everyone present. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw the prosecuting attorney fidgeting uncomfortably.

  Turning around made him flinch in surprise. A tall, slender woman in gray pants and a black short-sleeved blouse came striding through the aisle between the bench seats. One look at her, and you could tell she meant business.

  Her face was nothing short of lovely, with dark skin and almond-shaped eyes, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. It took Ben a moment to recognize her. Larani Tal. The new head of the Justice Keepers.

  The middle arbiter looked up with a frown, squinting at her. “This is most irregular, Director Tal,” he said with obvious discomfort. “Interrupting an arraignment before we can pass sentence is-”

  “Unfortunately necessary.”

  Larani Tal paused at the end of the aisle with her arms folded, craning her neck to fix her gaze on the man. “I wish to offer the defendant a way to repay his debt to society, as it were.” Now what did that mean? Ben didn't have time to contemplate it because she just kept right on talking. “I have need of his services.”

  “Mr. Loranai has been discharged from the LIS.”

  “Then he can operate as a civilian consultant,” she said coolly. “One of my Keepers attacked this man, and I need to know why. Attempts to interrogate Calissa Narin have been less than successful.”

  A lump of anxiety fell into the pit of Ben's stomach. After nearly a week spent focusing on his impending trial, he had almost forgotten about Calissa Narin; after all, the woman was supposed to be safely tucked away in a cell. He had no desire to interact with a rogue Keeper, but…A part of him felt compelled to try.

  Besides, while his sentence was in effect, he would be unable to leave Leyria. He had promised Darrel that he would get back to Earth as soon as possible – that he would only be gone a few weeks – but it was clear now that he would not be able to keep that promise. The thought of leaving his partner alone with the abusive people that he called family was devastating. He'd been forbidden from calling anyone but his lawyer while he was held in custody. Hopefully Jack had explained the situation to Darrel.

  If there was something Ben could do to shorten his sentence…

  The prosecuting attorney stood with her hands folded over her stomach, her eyes fixed on the arbiter. “A gesture of good faith would go a long way toward helping Mr. Loranai to complete his rehabilitative therapy.”

  “Well, Mr. Loranai?” the arbiter inquired.

  Clenching his teeth, Ben looked down at the floor. “I'll do it,” he said, nodding to the other man. “Just promise me that I don't have to be within arm's reach of that monster. Once was enough.”

  “I think,” Larani said. “That can be arranged.”

  A long, rectangular window in the wall looked into a cell with a bed and a small table, a bookshelf and several paintings on the wall. The woman who stood inside with her back turned was as still as a statue.

  Calissa Narin wore a simple pair of beige pants and a white tank-top, her long, dark hair spilling over her shoulders to the small of her back. She seemed to be focused on one of the paintings.

  Ben stood in the small observation room, trying his damnedest to ignore the anxiety he felt. This woman had very nearly ripped him to pieces, and now here he was, putting himself in her crosshairs once again. His rational mind said that there was nothing she could do to him from inside that cell but Keepers inspired a kind of awe in the general populace. They were heroic figures, larger than life, and when one of them went bad, that sense of awe became horror.

  Was Calissa the woman who attacked him on Palissa? He snorted at that. If he'd had any talent for poetry, he would have sculpted that sentence into a beautiful rhyming couplet. Amusement died quickly, however. The hooded woman who had tried to kill him in Tyron's bar had also been a fallen Keeper. What were the odds that he would come up against two? Still he remembered the hooded woman's voice. It didn't match.

  Larani Tal was on his right, standing stiffly with her arms folded, and staring into the cell. “That glass won't crack even if you hit it with high-impact rounds,” she said. “It's as safe as can be.”

  Ben frowned.

  Inside the cell, Calissa turned and gave a start when she saw them watching her through the window. A moment later, she was smiling.

  Larani activated the speaker.

  “Ah good,” Calissa said, bowing her head as she flowed toward the window
with the grace of a Sinthala dancer. “Back for more questions, I see. What is it you'd like to know this time?”

  “Where did you get your symbiont?”

  A sly little grin, blossomed on Calissa's face, but she kept her eyes fixed on the floor. “I thought I'd already told you that,” she said. “I was given a symbiont after graduating from-”

  Thrusting her chin out, Larani squinted at the other woman. “Enough,” she hissed, stepping forward to position herself right in front of the window. “No Nassai would ever allow you to use your abilities for such violence.”

  The grin on Calissa's face widened, and when she looked up, it was like watching a lion bare his teeth. “Perhaps you don't know the Nassai as well as you think,” she offered. “Breslan, Slade…Now me. Plenty of rogue symbionts, it seems.”

  She turned her attention to Ben, and those green eyes blazed with a feral hunger. “And you…the man who refused to die.” It took a great deal of resolve to prevent himself from wilting under that stare. “No matter. Your time will come.”

  “Yeah, let's talk about that,” Ben replied.

  He clenched his fists and moved closer to the window, forcing himself to maintain eye-contact. “Your boss wants me dead,” he said, arching one eyebrow. “How did I get on his radar?”

  “What makes you think I have a boss?”

  Chuckling softly, Ben shook his head. “Nice try, darling,” he shot back, surprised by his own bravado. “People like you don't get to be where they are without a lot of help from the inside.”

  Calissa tapped her lips with one finger, her eyes widening as she studied him. “You could be right about that,” she murmured, her voice barely audible through the speaker. “Except I was just an ordinary Keeper who decided to kill you.”

  “Your symbiont,” Larani insisted

  “Where do you think I got it?”

  Ben was fairly certain that he knew the answer, but he wasn't comfortable saying it out loud. Anna had discovered Earth while she was chasing a criminal who had stolen a symbiont. Everything he'd read on the incident suggested that Wesley Pennfield intended to experiment on the creature.

  Nassai could deny their hosts access to the space-bending powers that made Justice Keepers so formidable in battle. If a Keeper went too far, his Nassai might simply decide to stop cooperating, but Calissa suffered from no such restriction. That being the case, it wasn't much of a stretch to think that the purpose of Wesley Pennfield's experiments was to remove the Nassai's ability to resist.

  That wasn't what scared him.

  Cal Breslan had been a Justice Keeper for close to twenty-years, and though the man's service record indicated a less than friendly disposition, the man had done his job adequately. So did Breslan have a corrupted symbiont from the very beginning? Or had something changed?

  Ben felt his mouth tighten, then rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “All right,” he said. “Let's try this again. I don't think you realize just how much trouble you're in. A rogue Keeper?”

  Calissa lifted her chin to stare down her nose at him. It was almost a sneer. “Yes,” she said. “I can imagine that such a thing would almost be enough to cause a panic. Why, it would cast doubt on everything the Keepers stand for.”

  “They're gonna bury you in a hole.”

  “Indeed.”

  Shutting his eyes, Ben took a deep breath through his nose. “Right,” he said with a curt nod. “You're still putting on a brave face because you still think it's only a matter of time before you walk out of here.”

  The scowl that Calissa quickly smothered beneath an expressionless mask told him that he'd hit a nerve. “It was Slade, wasn't it?” Ben went on. “You're one of his, and you think he's coming for you.”

  Quick as a flash of lightning, Calissa spun around and marched across the cell. Ben recognized the tactic. Keep her back turned so that they would have a harder time reading her body language. “You know nothing, little man,” she said. “But feel free to remain safely wrapped in your arrogance.”

  Pursing his lips, Ben looked up at the ceiling. He felt creases form in his brow. “I don't know,” he began. “Seems to me I know a little more than you'd like. Must be rough when someone sees right through you.”

  She turned.

  Clamping a hand over his mouth, Ben squeezed his eyes shut. He shook with soft laughter. “That's it, isn't it? It's been what? A week and a half since they dragged you in here? You must be wondering what's keeping Slade.”

  The caged woman hissed like a cat, striding toward him as if she intended to punch her way through the glass and kill him right there. “Think you've found a soft spot, hmm? You can't imagine what's in store.”

  “Oh no!” he mocked. “Slade has an evil plan!”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Larani glance over her shoulder and show him a thin smile. It seemed he'd gained a measure of her respect. His success should have come as no surprise to her. Intelligence was what he did. “Whatever Slade's planning,” he said, “it's probably…What's a good synonym for pathetic?”

  “Wait and see.”

  Ben stood before her with arms crossed, hanging his head with a sigh. “Perhaps I will,” he said. “You can wait with me. After all, it's not like you'll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

  “He will come for me.”

  “Well, that's something.”

  Calissa's mouth opened, but she forced it shut again when she realized that she had revealed too much. A grimace betrayed her shame. “Grecken Slade is a great man.” So, she was committed now. Perhaps she figured that since she had already slipped up, no more harm could come of it. “You wish to know why I tried to kill you? It is enough that he asked, and I obeyed.”

  Before Ben could say one word, Larani stepped forward with her teeth bared in a snarl. “So you just come right out and admit it, then?” she hissed. “You're not even going to try to hide your allegiance.”

  “You fool,” Calissa said softly. “Slade held your position for almost ten years. Do you know what a clever man can accomplish in that time.”

  The thought sent chills down Ben's spine.

  “Ten years is a very long time,” Calissa went on. “Slowly, piece by piece, bit by bit, Slade maneuvered his people into key positions. We are everywhere, Larani, eating away at your organization from the inside.

  Calissa lifted a hand, and the air before her rippled, light refracting until she was a smear of colour. Then, just like that, she was solid once again. “This symbiont I carry?” she said. “It's not the one you gave me eight years ago.”

  She spun on her heel so that Ben saw her in profile, then paced a line right in front of the window. “This symbiont obeys my commands! Yet another gift from Slade. Power without being subject to the whims of a Nassai.”

  Ben swallowed.

  For some reason that he couldn't fathom, this woman was confirming all of their worst fears. It made no sense. Any knowledge she gave them would only make it that much easier for them to-

  Abruptly, Calissa rounded on them and flashed a smile so cold it was enough to make a grown man sweat. “You're wondering why I would tell you all this,” she said. “Why let you in on the big secret, hmm?”

  She leaned in close until her nose was almost touching the window. “It's because there is nothing you can do to stop it. And the suspicion as you wonder which of your people are secretly working for us will tear you apart.”

  Those words seemed to hang in the air for a moment.

  “Sleep well, Larani,” Calissa said softly. “Sleep well.”

  Chapter 21

  Blinds on the window split the sunlight into thin bands that fell upon a hospital bed, but otherwise the room was dim. The same sounds you always heard in a place like this filled the air: a strange, non-localized whirring, people's footsteps in the hallway, muffled voices and the occasional beep.

  Arthur Hunter sat in a wheelchair with hands resting on his knees, frowning into his own lap. Today, he wore blue jeans and
a gray sweater with the hood pulled back. “What is taking so long?” he muttered.

  Jack let out an exasperated sigh.

  His mother stood at the window with her back turned, peeking through the blinds at the scenery outside. “They're just working on your discharge papers. We'll be on our way soon.”

  Arthur was unsatisfied, and he showed it by casting a glare in his son's direction. “Never mind that,” he grumbled. “I want to know what you are doing to locate the man who did this to me.”

  Jack stood by the wall with his arms hanging limp, his eyes fixed on the floor tiles. “We tracked Pennfield's car to a parking lot downtown,” he explained. “We don't know where he went from there.

  “Pennfield was presumed dead three years ago, his accounts frozen and his assets seized. So any funds he's using are coming from unknown accounts. Sadly, we won't be able to trace him that way.”

  “Marvelous.”

  At that less than charitable comment, Crystal turned and fixed a steely gaze on her ex-husband. She said nothing, however, and quickly went back to the window. Jack didn't blame her. Fighting with Arthur when he was feeling surly never got you anything but a whole lot of grief.

  For the hundredth time since this morning, he wondered whether coming here was a good idea. He could have insisted that the search for Pennfield was too important – and his father would almost certainly approve – but somehow, Jack felt as if it was his fault that his dad was currently sitting in a wheelchair.

  “So you've got nothing?” Arthur murmured.

  Jack winced so hard it hurt, then banged the back of his head against the wall. “I'd like to remind you that this is the man who ran an interstellar smuggling ring for years,” he growled. “Pennfield is extremely dangerous.”

  “All the more reason to put him in a cell.”

  Crystal glanced over her shoulder with a tight frown, her face flushed to a soft pink. “That's enough, Arthur!” she snapped. “They're working as fast as they can. You can just focus on getting better.”