by S. H. Jucha
Belatedly, Harbour noticed that the room’s chairs, which were located along the walls, seated many more captains and security officers than usual. Sharpen your wits, Harbour thought. This is dangerous space.
“Now that we’re all here,” Commandant Strattleford said, opening the meeting, nodding perfunctorily to Harbour, “let’s begin. Governor Andropov has asked to be the first to address this council. Governor, the deck is yours.”
“A heinous murder has occurred downside,” Markos said. “Immediately afterwards, the perpetrator escaped to the JOS. We had hoped station security could apprehend the felon without alarming the public, but the murderer has been loose on the station for more than six days.”
Harbour eased her senses open. The governor’s anger was evident in the pulsing veins at his temples. But something was wrong. The room should have been in an uproar about the announcement, but it was abnormally quiet. The only person seemingly surprised by the news appeared to be her.
“Under these conditions, I have to insist the commandant make a public announcement and ask for stationers and spacers’ help in locating this person.” Markos finished and sat down.
“I seem to be uninformed of events, Governor Andropov, and I’d like to ask a few questions, if I may?” Harbour asked.
“Certainly, Harbour,” Markos replied.
“Who was murdered and was there a witness?”
“It was my nephew, Dimitri, and we know who it was.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Governor,” Harbour said respectfully, while thinking good riddance. “How do you know who it was? Witness, DNA, fingerprints … any or all of these?”
“Be assured, we know who did this,” Markos replied.
Harbour could detect the governor’s animosity, which she assumed was directed at her. You don’t like my questions? she thought. “I presume you have the evidence in hand, Commandant,” Harbour said.
Emerson squirmed in his chair and replied, “We have the perpetrator’s DNA.”
Harbour could sense the commandant’s fear, and she pursued the cause. “Taken from the crime scene by dome authorities unconnected to the Andropov family?” she asked.
“I’m not in possession of the details as to how the evidence was obtained, Harbour,” Emerson replied. “We have vid footage of the felon sneaking onto the cargo level of the El, pretending to be crew, and then she disappeared once she reached the JOS.”
“A she?” Harbour said, amazed. “Was this woman a stationer?” Harbour’s sincere hope was that the female wasn’t from the Belle.
“She was a sixteen year old who was a member of my household,” Markos replied tersely.
It didn’t take Harbour’s extraordinary senses to tell her that the governor and the commandant dearly wanted her to shut up.
“So what weapon did this teenager use to kill Dimitri?” Harbour asked. Along the room’s periphery, she saw the captains shift in their seats in expectation of the answer to the question.
“Because there was extensive damage to Dimitri’s skull, we’ve yet to determine the weapon used,” Markos replied.
Harbour focused on some of the other family heads, particularly Lise Panoy. It confused Harbour that she perceived frustration and not anger. The woman wasn’t in emotional sync with the governor.
Now, isn’t that interesting? Harbour thought. “Do we have a clear photo of this girl?” Harbour asked, and her comm unit beeped softly. “Thank you,” she said pleasantly, holding up her device. Interestingly, the image was sent to her anonymously, and she sensed a spike in anxiety from the governor and the commandant. “A slight build,” Harbour noted out loud. “I can’t tell from this photo, Commandant, what distinguishing features would be announced to the public, if the governor’s request is approved?”
Emerson glanced at Markos, who was struggling to control his temper. The two men had already agreed to the public announcement, but something of this magnitude, which involved everyone’s cooperation, required approval from the council. “She has auburn hair, although that might have changed, and no decorations, markings, or tattoos,” Emerson replied.
“A sixteen-year-old, downsider girl with no adornments,” Harbour replied, in mock wonder. “I didn’t think such a thing existed.”
The lives of most downsiders had become quite comfortable. It was well known that the young of the domes indulged themselves in all manner of decorations, some temporary and some permanent.
“Security surveillance should have been able to track her every movement from the El car, isn’t that so, Commandant?” Harbour asked.
“We lost her after she transitioned to a terminal arm,” Emerson replied.
“How did a downsider know to do that?” Harbour asked. She discerned a spike in animosity from Markos immediately before his palm smacked the table for attention.
“We’re getting off track here,” Markos declared loudly. “My nephew’s murderer is loose on this station or hiding aboard a ship. I demand a public announcement with her picture distributed. I’m offering a reward of twenty-five thousand in coin for information leading to her capture. Once she’s in custody, we take her downside.”
The last part of the governor’s announcement generated a great deal of outburst from the captains, and the commandant called for order.
“Why downside, Governor?” Harbour asked. “By agreement, egregious crimes of this nature are adjudicated aboard the JOS by the Review Board.”
“No need, this time,” Markos replied. “It’s a no-contest situation.”
“According to you, Governor,” Harbour replied. Her indignation called on her power, but she held it in check. Markos would know if she influenced him. “It’s the right of every individual to a fair review of a murder charge by the Board. That’s the appropriate place for you to present whatever evidence you possess and prove this girl’s guilt.”
Harbour sensed a strong wash of fear override the governor’s anger. No public trial. This is getting more and more bizarre, Harbour thought.
The commandant got control of the meeting and presented the governor’s request for a public announcement with a photo and an offer of reward, which was approved by the council. The meeting descended into minutiae, and Harbour opened her reception to better judge the mood of the room.
The occupants’ emotions appeared to be the usual mix, except for one. Most empaths, barring the exceptionally strong sensitives, had little or no sense of direction for the source of an emanation. They could orient themselves in one direction and sense whether the reception was stronger or weaker. Yet, at the same time, a person’s broadcasted temperament wasn’t static. It strengthened or waned as his or her thoughts churned.
Harbour taught her trainees to observe face and body language to augment their readings. Following her own advice, Harbour scanned the room in an absentminded manner, searching for the source of the odd output. Most men cast admiring glances her way, which, over time, she’d come to tolerate. Enough individuals had proclaimed her beauty to her that she’d come to accept it as fact without celebrating it. Women’s glances fell into three camps, envious, neutral, or admiring.
The sensation Harbour perceived and searched for intrigued her. She judged it as coming from someone who emanated desire for her, but it said need, not lust. Occasionally, Harbour locked eyes with an individual and within moments their eyes averted. However, one pair of dark brown eyes stared quietly back at her.
Harbour held Captain Cinders’ stare, expecting him to glance away. The captain’s reputation was well known and respected, and she didn’t expect this forward behavior from him. Notably, to her knowledge, the captain had never visited the Belle’s empaths, although he would certainly have possessed the coin.
The sense of need Harbour detected grew stronger, the longer she held Cinders’ gaze. Finally, the captain casually turned to talk to the individual beside him. There was no doubt in Harbour’s mind that Captain Cinders was the source of the strong desire for her.
T
he meeting wound down, and Harbour considered her options. Normally, she would have picked up some personal items and returned to the shuttle, where she would have used her comm unit to communicate with her people. However, the fact that Danny’s list was long gave her the excuse to peruse the more exotic shops and give Captain Cinders an opportunity to contact her.
Harbour was of two thoughts, if the captain did manage to seek her out. On the one hand, she thought that the young girl, who escaped from the domes, would be the subject of their discussion. Yet, secretly, she hoped that Cinders wanted to meet her for personal reasons. The life of an empath was lonely. No matter how hard normals tried, they couldn’t eliminate their fears over an extended liaison with an empath.
But, on this latter point, Harbour had to admit she wasn’t any ordinary empath. She was the strongest sensitive on the Belle and, according to her mentor, the previous Harbour, she was more powerful than any empath that woman had known. This created a great demand for Harbour’s services from the wealthiest of the families and left her as the most isolated person from normals.
On the main concourse, Harbour wandered past bars, restaurants, sleepholds, and vendors offering a range of items from practical to fanciful. Harbour earned enormous sums of coin for her services, but she transferred the vast majority of it to the Belle’s general fund. Those contributions, combined with the services of the other empaths, artisans, and trades people, allowed the colony ship to accommodate its necessities.
Walking the concourse, Harbour felt like a small island in a stream. Most normals continually ducked around her or bumped into each other to make way for her, as they hurried to their next destination. The flow of people around her always left a little space. Only some downsiders and children occasionally ran into her, and Harbour found the contact of the latter group comforting. Sometimes, she would think back to the carefree, early years before her power bloomed. Once, I was a normal, she would often think.
-9-
Rendezvous
Harbour kept her senses open as she wandered through shops. It was annoying, enduring the lust, envy, fear, and other sordid emotions from the normals near her. At times, she’d smile and regard the more ugly-minded individuals until they realized they’d been read and then they would scurry away.
The fact that Harbour hadn’t been approached by Captain Cinders immediately after the meeting told her that he preferred to keep their interaction secret. That thought disappointed Harbour. It implied the captain probably wanted to discuss the girl.
Eventually, Harbour grew tired of waiting and thought of lunch. Most eateries on the main promenade were too pricey for her frugal nature. But, before she could decide on a location, a shop of polished rare minerals caught her eye, and she paused to enjoy the display. That’s when the desire, the need for her, returned, and she wandered inside, feeling the emotion grow in strength.
At the rear of the shop, an older woman was bent over her tool, polishing an intricate figurine of yellow green stone. She looked up at Harbour briefly, smiled, and tossed her head at the door behind her workstation before resuming her efforts.
Harbour glanced around, discovering the lapidist and she were alone. Moving quickly behind the workstation, Harbour touched the door actuator, stepped through the opening, and closed the door behind her. Polished stone figures, uncut rocks, and supplies filled the shelves of the cramped space.
When Harbour heard her name whispered, she followed the sound around the shelves. “Captain Cinders,” Harbour said, finding that the man and she were crowded together in a small alcove.
“I apologize for the intrigue, Harbour, but I wanted you to know that the governor’s story is as potable as effluent waste.”
“That’s hardly news, Captain,” Harbour replied sarcastically. “What else do you know?” Her senses were open, but she wanted to touch Jessie to confirm what she was receiving. This close to the man, it wasn’t really necessary, not with her abilities, and she questioned her desire. She sensed an element of fear from the captain, but his overriding emotion was one of anger.
“I have her,” Cinders said, without fanfare. Unlike at the meeting, Jessie kept averting his eyes from Harbour’s face. That Harbour was a beautiful woman was an understatement, but it was the warmth in her eyes, despite their cool gray color, that sought Jessie’s attention, which he was working to ignore. His personal encounters with women had always been fleeting and confined to station downtime. There were reasons for that, but the most significant one was that he hadn’t found anyone who held his attention for longer than a night.
“You have her … the girl who killed the governor’s nephew?” Harbour clarified.
“That’s one story,” Jessie replied. “Another is she fought back against Dimitri in self-defense. She admits to pushing him, but she didn’t touch him.” Jessie lifted an eyebrow to emphasize what he’d said.
“If she didn’t touch him —” Harbour started to say, before the captain’s words sunk home. She leaned close to Jessie, forcing him to lock eyes with her, and closed a hand over his. “Are you saying she’s an empath?” Harbour whispered. Harbour felt a spike of desire from Jessie, but it was quickly masked.
“Yes,” Jessie replied. He would have stepped back from Harbour, but the little alcove he chose gave him no room.
“How did she get downside?” Harbour whispered harshly, her gray eyes flaring. The captain’s story was explosive. A murder perpetrated by an empath could destroy the tenuous balance among the Belle, the station, and the domes.
“She didn’t get downside,” Jessie hissed, and the vehemence he exuded caused Harbour to release his hand and pull back. “She was born downside. Her mother’s an empath and so’s her sister.” Jessie watched Harbour’s hand fly to her mouth, and she stood that way, her gray eyes reflecting the thoughts flying through her mind.
“The governor?” Harbour asked.
“The same,” Jessie replied. “According to Aurelia, her mother was kidnapped by the governor when she was seventeen years old. Aurelia and her sister, Sasha, have been secluded in the governor’s house their entire lives.”
“How was this even possible?” Harbour asked.
“I’m sorry, Harbour, I don’t have the time to bring you up on all the events that Aurelia shared with me. By the way, I recommend you and I refer to her as Rules so that we’re never overheard mentioning her name.” Harbour started to say something, but Jessie waved her off. “The important thing, and the reason for me meeting you, is that I need you to take her off my hands. Security is already suspicious that I might have her.”
“Are you suffering from space dementia, Captain?” Harbour hissed, and Jessie drew back from the fear and anxiety that washed through his mind. “Sorry,” Harbour apologized, tightening her controls. “We’re talking about kidnapping, rape, illegal incarceration, murder, and breaking the accord, no less, and you want me to hide the girl who’s at the center of all this?”
“What am I supposed to do with her … add her to my crew?”
“Where’s she now?”
“She was on the Spryte,” Jessie admitted, but he didn’t say more.
Harbour felt Jessie’s emotions wink off like a light being doused. Interesting control, she thought. You don’t trust me if I’m not going to take the girl off your hands.
“How come security wasn’t able to sniff her out? The governor must have given the commandant a DNA profile.”
“That’s a secret,” Jessie said, flashing a quick grin. “And, by the way, Rules thinks it probably wasn’t the governor, but Giorgio Sestos, his chief of security, who might have passed it to an ambitious family head.”
“Sounds like a bright girl,” Harbour admitted.
“You have no idea … a good kid too.”
“What do you intend to do with her?”
“The safe thing would be to turn her over to security.”
“From what I’ve heard about you, Captain Cinders, you don’t tend to play it safe when it come
s to a matter of justice, especially for one of this scale.”
“Screw my rep, Harbour. I’m in danger of losing my company for aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
Jessie was sending again, and Harbour detected a mix of emotions. The anger was still there, but the emotion didn’t answer the why.
“Does your crew know?”
“Know what?” Jessie challenged, and his eyes narrowed, daring Harbour to follow through on her question.
The sensations Harbour received were white hot anger and indignation. The captain was known for his tough leadership, but his reputation said he handled his people with an absolute fairness, which engendered their loyalty. Now, she sensed her questions had crossed an invisible line with the captain. Obviously, your crew knows, and they’re backing you, but you’ll not admit to their complicity, Harbour thought.
While they were talking, security’s announcement came over the speakers of the JOS public monitors. Harbour and Jessie could hear it sounding over the one located outside the shop in the main concourse. Harbour’s comm unit chimed and Jessie’s unit vibrated, and they both checked their messages.
“Not a flattering picture,” Harbour commented.
“If you’re trying to hide your crimes by recapturing your runaway daughter, what type of photo would you distribute of her?” Jessie commented bitterly. “Well, I think we’re done here. Safe trip back to the Belle, Harbour.”
When Jessie moved to edge past her, Harbour grabbed his shoulders, and said, “Wait. What are you going to do?”
“What does it matter to you? You can’t or won’t help, and I’ve got to get back to my ship,” Jessie replied.
Harbour was crushed by the accusation, and, whereas, at the start of their conversation, the captain had barely glanced at her, now his brown eyes were hard, and they drilled into hers. “Give me your comm unit,” Harbour demanded.