“I knew you’d come!”
She snorted. It was more than she’d known. She’d resigned herself to never seeing him again. Lièrén hugged her son easily and comfortably. She stepped into view as Derrit pulled away, and Lièrén looked up to meet her gaze. The smile on his face made her heart skip. She’d been holding thoughts of him in so tightly, saving them for later, so she could do the thousand things that had to be done to survive. Her memories of him would be her reward.
“Rayle set this up, didn’t he?” she asked as she moved closer.
“It was a collaboration. I’m very… visible at the moment. He’s attending a luncheon for me so I could bring you this and say goodbye properly.” He held out a sleek percomp like it was an offering.
She took it and put it in her pocket to look at later. She wanted more memories of Lièrén. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed so…” She didn’t want to be insulting, but the corporate look wasn’t for him.
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Rayle’s phrase was ‘dull as an accounting cube.’”
Derrit snickered.
Lièrén shrugged. “It’s expected.”
She suspected he was playing a deep game, and thought it was better if she didn’t know. She couldn’t afford to even be a flicker on the CPS’s scanner right now.
“The percomp has images from your friends, and I added some entertainment and… other data that I hope may be of interest.” He gestured behind him. “This cab is programmed for the south flitterport. I’m told the traffic-control system is still glitchy after the incident four days ago, which must explain why it stopped here.”
She really did have the best friends in the galaxy. “Oh yes, of course.” She turned to Derrit. “Go get the cart with our luggage, binata, while I talk to our friend.”
After Derrit scampered off, she stepped closer to Lièrén and slipped a hand into his. The warmth of his skin soothed something nameless in her.
Lièrén?
Yes. He welcomed her into the walled garden of his mind. The connection with him felt right.
Do you know if the Testing Center is still after Derrit?
Unlikely. A subtle sense of satisfaction accompanied the thought. The news reported that, owing to an unexpected systems failure in the building, the staff is temporarily being assigned elsewhere. I believe some records may have become lost.
My luck is amazing these days. She brought his hand up to the level of his heart and squeezed his fingers. I’m glad I met you, and glad you were there for Derrit. You’re a good man.
I’m not, but I hope to rise to your good opinion of me. You and Derrit deserve to be safe and free. Behind the garden wall, she felt vibrations of sadness and determination.
So do you. She took a deep breath, then lowered her mental defenses and showed him everything she’d bottled up, every joyously complicated feeling that centered around him. You deserve love.
His garden walls melted, and for a long moment, she was connected to him on a level she’d never dreamed was possible. He was deeply honorable and deeply lonely, and she and Derrit filled a void in him he hadn’t even recognized. She felt his heartbeat, his aura, the music of his emotions, texture of his thoughts, the shapes of jagged memories.
His containment gently pushed her away from the details, and she let him. She didn’t want to uncover his secrets, to become his vulnerability.
Imara, I’m still a transient…
I know. She sent him a wave of amusement. So am I.
Something tugged at her. “Mom, kiss him and say goodbye, or we’ll be late.”
Her focus expanded to include her son, and then reality snapped into being again. Derrit pulled on her sleeve again. A transportation hub’s maintenance bay wasn’t the ideal place for discovering the person you were in love with returned that feeling.
She smiled at Derrit. “All right, all right. Get in the cab and give us another minute.”
“A kiss takes a whole minute?” asked Derrit, a thread of disbelief in his words.
“Yes, if it’s the good kind.” She tilted her head toward the cab. “Now scoot.”
Derrit gave an exaggerated sigh and clomped his feet as he walked, but did as she asked.
She took Lièrén’s handsome, smiling face in her hands. “I believe I owe you a kiss.”
CHAPTER 23
* Planet: Concordance Prime * GDAT 3238.228 *
The High Spires CPS office was elegant and understated, and the air was decidedly cool. Lièrén was glad of the protection of his drab, conservative corporate topcoat.
“I must admit, Agent Sòng, you have an impressive educational background and record.”
Lièrén kept his face serene and his body language neutral. “Thank you, Regional Supervisor.”
“Please, call me Jane,” she said with a smile. She said it at every meeting, and he nodded respectfully, but had no intention of doing so.
Pennington-Smythe looked older, with patrician, classical features that implied generations of carefully controlled lineage, or that she was a regular customer of an excellent body shop. She wasn’t a minder, or if she was, hid it extremely well. Lièrén still hadn’t figured out how Fiy… Nothenil had made his primary talents seem low, and hidden his teke talent altogether. It would be a skill worth knowing.
The other person in the room, a round-faced man with a slight wheeze, cleared his throat. Garindi didn’t seem to be doing well in the perpetually damp climate of the Spires rainy season. For all that he was a senior OII investigator and a mid-level sifter, Pennington-Smythe was the more dangerous.
“Which is why I find it so hard to believe that you knew nothing of your partner’s extracurricular activities.” She accompanied her statement with a compassionate look that said she’d be supportive no matter what Lièrén had done.
“I wish I had known. I respected him, and he abused my trust.” He allowed a shimmer of anger and betrayal to escape his containment, in case the telepath he’d felt earlier was still around.
“I can certainly understand that. What about your supervisor, then?” She often veered from one topic to the next, perhaps hoping to throw him off balance. It was to his advantage that they thought him young, idealistic, and naïve, but it was wearing to be treated like an idiot.
“I’m sorry, I can’t speak for Agent Talavara.”
They had yet to tell him that he was the only surviving member of the field unit. They were playing a lengthy strategy, which meant he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. A short delay was fine with him, because it gave him time to make plans for his career and future. He wouldn’t be content to wait for long, though.
He’d spent the majority of his life conforming to what others expected, letting them isolate him, and locking his heart in an unbreachable containment field. Falling in love with a fast-thinking, generous woman and her cheerful, talented son had made him realize what he’d done to himself. He was still a transient, and would be for some time. The CPS still owned him. Admitting his longing for her would have been unfair, so when he’d met her at the maintenance platform for what was to have been their final farewell, he’d planned to avoid letting let her get close, planned to avoid kissing her, and most of all, planned to avoid connecting with her and letting her wrap him in her mesh of talents. He was glad none of those plans had worked out.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you,” said Pennington-Smythe. “Agent Talavara is dead.”
Lièrén blinked in surprise. He didn’t think they’d admit it so soon. “How did she die?”
Garindi cleared his throat and shook his head minutely. “It’s still being investigated.” Pennington-Smythe thinned her lips in annoyance.
Lièrén saw an opportunity to force their hand and took it. “If I may ask, who is my supervisor now?” CPS rules said they had to give him a name.
Pennington-Smythe and Garindi glared polite daggers at one another for a quick moment. Lièrén glanced at his percomp to make them believe he hadn�
�t seen the exchange.
Pennington-Smythe drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “About that…”
* * * * *
“Welcome back, hansamu. What may I bring you this rare, cloudless evening?” Rayle asked. His hair was now mottled brown and styled to look like wood bark, with coppery pointed ends that complemented the coppery pointed tips of his ears and the realistic-looking small horns sprouting above his temples. His eyelashes were dark and long, and his eyes were a striking shade of brilliant green. It took a little getting used to, though his unique synaptic signature was the same as always.
Rayle’s willingness to alter his appearance had been very useful in convincing the OII watchers that Lièrén was enjoying a fine luncheon with his cousins at their exclusive restaurant, instead of giving his heart to Imara and Derrit on the maintenance dock of a city transportation hub. It had only taken Rayle about ten minutes to learn to walk, sit, and gesture like Lièrén, at least enough to fool external security eyes.
Lièrén tilted his head quizzically and glanced at the stylus and pad in Rayle’s hands. “Forest fauns can’t remember orders?”
Rayle’s sunny expression morphed into peeved. “Forest fauns have no trouble, but their rockbrai… respected coworkers can’t remember shit.” He tilted his head toward the bar, where the new bartender, Gunn, was closing the door of the new dispensary. “She’s not the one losing the tips when she sends a bad order out.”
“My sympathies. It’s unpleasant when one’s coworkers can’t be trusted.”
Rayle smirked. “Isn’t it, though, Agent Sòng.”
“I would be grateful for a redberry fizz, and something for yourself, when you have a break.” Rayle nodded and went behind the bar.
Lièrén had seen no reason to move out of the residence suites, seeing as the CPS was still footing the bill. In the Quark and Quasar, Lièrén’s favorite booth was smaller than before because when the hotel had repaired the combo gun damage, they’d squeezed in four booths where there used to be three. Lièrén didn’t mind, though there were more people around to brush against his talent. He was getting better at keeping his senses always tuned to his surroundings, even when his mind was on other things.
His uncertain status had reaped an unexpected benefit of no one checking on his usage of enhancement drugs, but he knew the medics would catch up with him sooner or later. There was no arguing with a bureaucracy that believed in the efficacy of one tool for all situations, but there were workarounds. Lièrén planned to add several to his toolbox. Imara’s extraction of Derrit had taught him the value of having contingency plans.
Rayle came back with a redberry fizz for Lièrén and a small glass of what smelled like chocolate espresso for himself and sat.
“Tomorrow’s the day. You sure you don’t want me to ping you?” Rayle blew across the top of his glass, then took a sip.
“Thank you, but I’ll likely see you sooner than I’d see the ping.” Lièrén had a new prepaid percomp, but chose not to carry it with him when in the CPS offices. He’d destroyed the previous one after securing its contents elsewhere. Nothenil had thought the field unit’s entire hypercube would be good insurance, and Lièrén had to agree.
Tomorrow was GDAT 229, when Imara and Derrit would arrive on Abasarran, the planet they’d be calling home for the foreseeable future. They’d promised to ping Rayle the moment their feet touched solid ground. Lièrén was surprised by a wave of longing so intense, it almost took his breath away. He struggled to contain it so it wouldn’t impact the empath sitting across from him.
Rayle put his hand on top of Lièrén’s. “I miss them, too,” he said softly.
Lièrén nodded, not trusting his voice. He planned to do everything in his power to see them again, but it was going to take a longer, deeper game than anything Pennington-Smythe or the OII dreamed up. Fortunately, he was no longer stubbornly isolating himself from friends and family, meaning he had the resources of the Sòng Family Trust, and more importantly, his forecaster great-grandfather on his side. He’d pinged them as soon as he’d left Imara in the interrogation room, and been touched by their warm response. Even his great-grandfather had been welcoming, probably because Lièrén was thwarting the CPS.
He had no idea how, and would never be able to prove it, but he suspected his family was responsible for Rayle winning the frontier homestead lottery. It had been risky, because they didn’t know Rayle well enough to know he’d never leave the big city, or that he’d give the prize to Imara and Derrit. The gamble had paid off, and had put them safely out of the hands of the CPS, which had no jurisdiction on planets that weren’t members of the Concordance. Frontier governments could invite the CPS in to provide medical support, conduct testing, or deal with minder issues, but only as guests.
“When is your show?” Lièrén asked. “I’d like to come see it.”
“Three days. I’ll give you my other comp ticket, if you don’t mind sitting with my plasma-hot date.” Rayle fanned himself and grinned. “Detective Hǎinán. You met him the day the bar got shot up. He’s teaching me Mandarin, and I’m teaching him the horizontal hula.”
Lièrén laughed. “The ‘horizontal hula’? What dance style is that?”
Rayle shook his head in mock disapproval. “Your cultural education is sorely lacking, Agent Sòng. You need to come to another dance class.”
Lièrén smiled. “Regrettably, Server Leviso, I must decline your generous offer. I value my limbs in their current operational condition.”
Rayle’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”
From behind the bar came an annoying whine that rapidly increased to a painfully loud squeal.
Rayle gave a long suffering sigh and slid out of the booth. “The rock… my respected coworker needs help with the blender again.” He bowed. “Until tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, indeed.
CHAPTER 24
* Planet: CGC Frontier / Pozivol Corp. “Abasarran” * GDAT 3239.081 *
Thoughts of tomorrow teased Imara yet again. Focus, she told herself.
Imara pushed in the last, hard-to-reach connection on the energy converter of the mobile glass extruder, then closed the access panel. Crossing her fingers, she keyed the start sequence. Green lights blinked.
“Hey, Chief, LeBoe needs… Hey, you got it working! That’s abzee.”
Elmeri, a plain young woman with angular limbs and a ready grin, was enthusiastic about everything under the sky, and was a font of slang that Imara was half convinced Elmeri made up as she went along.
Imara rubbed her grimy hands on her dusty pants. She’d been operating the grader earlier. Despite the protection of the cab, she was covered in pulverized bedrock. As far as she could tell, the only thing that being named road construction chief had gotten her was the chance to do everyone’s jobs, but it was better than being stuck in an office all day.
“It’ll do for now. We need to print a new converter.” The road construction office got priority use of the township’s high-resolution parts printer, but it’d still take a day or two to track down the right high-temperature printing substrate. If the city didn’t have any, they’d have to send to Prime Vaeros for it. “What were you saying about Manager LeBoe?”
“Oh, right. Rocksy got lost again waybo in the western preserve, and they’re at least three hours out. He needs you to sub for him in that one o’clock meeting with CPS Rep Wazner about the traffic system.”
Imara sighed. LeBoe was a tolerable administrator but largely a coward. He didn’t like meeting with anyone who might be unpleasant, and found ways to foist them off on his staff. He’d pinged Elmeri to relay the message rather than take the chance that Imara would be irritated with him. “Where’s Archer?” The nascent traffic-control system was his responsibility.
“Meeting with Pozivol.” Meetings with the settlement company that still owned about half of Erdo Beselt and most of the city of Prime Vaeros were usually pointless or frustrating. Pozivol wasn’t happy that the sett
lers were ahead of schedule in paying off the settlement debt, and was constantly finding ways to halt progress. No wonder LeBoe was hiding out “way beyond” on the other side of the forest.
“Okay, I’ll have to take the Rook to make it on time. Tell Torgny to start the forms for the conduit, and make the fiber channels wide enough for an energy recapture array node. I’ll be back around… oh hell, I don’t know. When I can. Remember I’m off tomorrow, though.” She’d lost the flip of a token with Archer to see which of them would have to attend the town council meeting that evening, because LeBoe always found a way to duck that, too.
She pinged Derrit as she strapped herself into the road crew’s battered Rook aircar to tell him she was headed home for a quick shower, then into town. He pinged back that he was at the neighboring homestead, helping feed the animals. It was a large, blended family, and one of the daughters, who Imara thought Derrit might be interested in, was forever rescuing small mammals, including a few hybrids from the pet trade. She’d already given Derrit a ferwinkle, a soft-furred, omnivorous ferret-feline cross, to “foster,” which likely meant Derrit had a pet for life. Imara didn’t mind, as long as most of the menagerie stayed next door.
Their own small home, barn, and landing pad wasn’t much to look at now, but she had plans. Tomorrow would be the start of them.
Focus, she told herself, or she’d find herself in mismatched boots or something for the rest of the day. She pulled out her second-best pair of pants and a belted blue tunic. She carried a warm copper-colored hooded vest, in case the Abasarran’s weather prediction AI was wrong about the forecast for the evening. Spring weather on terraformed planets sometimes flummoxed even experienced systems, and Abasarran’s was young.
* * * * *
She landed the aircar on a wide community pad her crew had formed and textured the first month she’d arrived. It irritated her that the name of the Citizen Protection Service still had the power to make her uneasy, even though she knew they couldn’t touch her or her son. In her experience, the CPS didn’t always feel bound by legal proprieties.
Minder Rising: Central Galactic Concordance Book 2 Page 22