by Piers Platt
Captain Peshai sat at the desk, reading a report on his computer screen. He looked up when the door opened. He was wearing the same clothes as the rest of the crew, Falken noted – a blue-and-gray Corrections uniform, though Peshai’s sported a pair of gold-braided shoulder boards denoting his rank.
“Come in,” he told them, standing up.
“You want us to stay, sir?” the guard asked.
“No,” Peshai said. “Thank you.”
“It’s good to see you again, Falken,” he said, walking around the desk to shake hands with him. “And this is …?”
“Vina,” she said, shaking his hand. “Vina Weaver.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Please – have a seat.”
“Thanks for seeing us,” Falken said, sitting. “I apologize for … well, for springing this on you.”
“It’s certainly unusual to see one of our former charges come back,” Peshai agreed. He sat back down at his desk. He eyed Vina warily for a moment, then he faced Falken. “I don’t need to remind you that the terms of your parole include several clauses concerning the details of your incarceration. And not sharing those details with members of the general public.”
“I remember,” Falken said.
“Very well. So … why are you back, Falken?”
Falken glanced over at Vina, then took a deep breath. “I want to go back in.”
Peshai raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“While I was in, I became close friends with a man called Sef Weaver. Her father,” Falken said, indicating Vina.
The warden turned to look at her. “Your father? And then you two met, years later?”
Vina nodded. “It’s a crazy coincidence. I was on vacation, and Falken was my tour guide … we got to talking, he learned my last name … we couldn’t believe it, at first.”
“When Vina told me that her father was still in prison, I decided to come here to talk to you,” Falken continued. “He’s a good man. He helped me earn my parole.”
“And you want to try to repay the favor,” Peshai said.
“Right,” Falken agreed.
Peshai exhaled slowly. “I don’t know, Falken. What you’re asking is … not a minor thing.”
“Has no one ever gone back in?” Falken said.
“You would be the first,” Peshai said. “No one’s ever wanted to go back in, so I don’t think we even have a protocol for this. I certainly can’t authorize it without Justice Department approval.”
“Would you be willing to try to get that approval?” Vina asked.
“I’d follow whatever rules or conditions you put in place,” Falken added.
Peshai pursed his lips. “What makes you think you could help him?” he asked.
“I know him, probably better than anyone,” Falken said. “Whatever’s holding him back, I can help him work through it, just like he helped me. I know the … system … has been doing this a long time. But maybe it needs a more human touch.”
Peshai held up his hand, silencing Falken. “Ms. Weaver, would you mind if Falken and I talk in private for a bit?”
“No,” she said, frowning.
“Thank you,” Peshai said. He stood up and walked Vina to the door. “The office next to mine is empty right now – you can make yourself at home.”
Vina nodded and headed into the spare office, and Peshai stepped back inside his own office. The hatch closed behind him.
“Let’s speak plainly,” he told Falken, returning to his desk. “Without me worrying about you violating your parole.”
“Okay,” Falken said. “I haven’t told her anything about Oz.”
“Good,” Peshai grunted. “Let’s keep it that way. You must have been surprised when you made the connection between her and her father.”
“I was. I thought there was no way … I really thought Weaver was part of the simulation, like Archos, or Saltari. I think I even asked you about him when I got out.”
“Mm,” Peshai said. “Hang on.” He typed on a set of holographic keys on his desktop for a moment. “Sef Weaver. Ah, now I remember. You were concerned he was innocent, and falsely imprisoned. I looked into it for you.” He looked up at Falken. “I remember reading through his case files, as you asked, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. It certainly didn’t look like he was innocent.”
“I was convinced that he was,” Falken said. “But Vina thinks he probably is guilty.”
“Well, Oz – the program – may have altered his story for your specific simulation, to help you. It told you what you needed to hear, basically,” Peshai said. “It can and does do that, based on what it judges to be the best course of action for rehabilitation. Most times it will just let the real humans on Oz interact naturally with one another. But at other times, it will replace the people with a simulated version, if it wants to alter your progression in some way.”
“So sometimes I was talking to the real Weaver, and other times it was just to the simulation?” Falken asked.
“Exactly. Just as some of his interactions with you were actually with a simulated version of you. Which means you might not know him as well as you think you do.”
Falken rubbed his forehead, thinking. “I still feel like I owe him,” he said, after a time. “I want to try to help.”
“It’s a noble sentiment. And frankly, I believe you might be right: Oz might be more effective with a human agent inside it, working alongside the artificial intelligence to help reform a prisoner.”
“What’s holding him back?” Falken asked. “Why hasn’t he been able to graduate from the program?”
Peshai turned back to his screen and tapped on the keyboard again, skimming through several paragraphs of text. “He hasn’t taken responsibility for his crime,” the warden said, reading from the screen. “According to this, the program has assessed that he can function just fine in normal society – he’s not a threat to anyone, and he already had the skills he needed to hold down a normal job. But without showing some accountability for his actions … he can’t get out.”
“He just needs to confess?” Falken asked.
“Essentially,” Peshai agreed. “And express some remorse. But he hasn’t responded to any of the simulation’s attempts to get him to do so.”
“I can get through to him,” Falken said, with conviction. “I know Weaver. He’d talk to me.”
Peshai frowned and studied Falken, then sighed and shook his head. “I believe he probably would.”
“But …?” Falken asked.
“But … as I said, I can’t just put you back in. It’s against all our protocols.”
“Who would I need to talk to, then?”
“My supervisors,” Peshai said. “The Corrections Committee. And I can pretty much guarantee that they will not approve your request. They’re not ex-cons, like you and me … they’re lawyers, judges … politicians.”
“Can we try?” Falken asked.
Peshai nodded, smiling sadly. “Yes. We can try.”
* * *
The guards escorted Falken and Vina back to the shuttle. They stopped outside the entrance to the docking tube, and Vina grasped Falken’s hands in hers.
“So there’s a chance?” she asked.
Falken squeezed her hand reassuringly. “A slim one. I’ve got to make my case to a special committee.”
“Can I help at all?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s just me from here on out.”
“Will you tell me if they approve your request?”
“Of course,” he said. “And you have Captain Peshai’s number, in case you need to reach him for any reason.”
“Right,” she said. “If they let you back in, will you call me and tell me how it’s going?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to do that,” Falken said. “But I’ll call you the moment I get out.”
“Okay. I’d like to see you again, whatever happens,” Vina said.
“I’d like that, too,” Falken said.
&nbs
p; She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful.”
Then she turned and disappeared down the docking tube.
Chapter 6
The autocab slowed to a stop at the end of the driveway, and Vina touched her finger to a scanner in the car’s dashboard, authorizing payment for the ride. A green check mark icon appeared on the screen, and the passenger door opened automatically. She stood up and stretched, feet crunching in the gravel. A warm breeze ruffled her short, brown hair, bringing with it the scent of the hibiscus bushes lining the driveway. Vina closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, smiling.
It’s good to be home.
She retrieved her bag from the trunk, and the autocab pulled away, disappearing back down the driveway a moment later. Vina took the stairs to the porch two at a time, and heard the front door unlock automatically at her approach. She pushed on the handle but paused at the threshold, feeling the old wooden floorboards creak under her shoes.
“Hello? Anyone home?” she asked.
“Vina?” her mother’s voice replied. A moment later, Elize appeared at the end of the hallway. Her long brown hair was streaked with gray and tied back in a loose bun. Elize saw her daughter and opened her mouth in surprise, the smile lines around her eyes wrinkling. “Vina, you’re home!”
“Hey, Mom,” Vina said. She dropped her bag by the stairs and met her mother in the hallway, where the two women hugged.
“It’s good to have you back,” Elize said. She leaned back, still holding her daughter at the waist. “You are never, ever going on vacation to the colonies again!”
Vina laughed. “I’m okay, Mom, really.”
Elize shook her head. “I knew this dragon safari thing was a bad idea, I said so,” she said, clucking her tongue.
“I know, and you were right,” Vina conceded.
“But you’re okay?” Elize asked.
“I’m fine,” Vina assured her. She frowned, and sniffed the air. “Nothing some corn bread wouldn’t fix, at least.”
Elize smiled, and let her daughter go. “That’s for dinner. But if you come tell me more about your trip, I might have a piece for you now.”
“Deal,” Vina said, and followed her mother into the kitchen. She took a seat at a stool next to a countertop, and watched as her mother sliced a piece of corn bread out of a cast iron skillet.
“Enzo coming home this week?” Vina asked.
“Your brother’s still at school,” Elize said, shaking her head. “Spring Break’s not for a few weeks. Butter?”
“I’m good, thanks,” Vina said, taking the offered piece of bread. She blew on it, then took a bite. “Mph, hot,” she mumbled.
“Mm,” her mother agreed, pulling up a stool across from Vina. She steepled her hands on the countertop, and then leaned her chin on them, watching her daughter. “Okay. Tell me everything.”
* * *
After dinner, Vina showered and unpacked her bag, then took her datapad downstairs to read a book. She found her mother reading from her own datapad on the couch in the living room. Vina took a seat in the chair across from her.
“I got a message from my boss,” Vina said. “She suggested I take another week or two off. She said she didn’t want me rushing back, after all I’ve been through.”
“That’s generous of her,” Elize said.
“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” Vina said. “I think it might be good for me to get back to work, but we’ll see. I’m definitely not going back until next week, though.” She checked the time on an antique clock over the mantelpiece. “Where’s Grandpa?”
“It’s the end of the quarter; he’s doing the books at the store again,” Elize explained.
“When is he going to just cave in and hire a robo-accountant?” Vina asked.
“He did,” Elize sighed. “But you know your grandfather. He says he can’t trust it, so he wants to check everything himself.”
Vina glanced over at her mother’s lap. “What are you reading?”
“I found another article about Olympus,” Elize said.
“I already told you all about it!” Vina laughed.
“I know, but … it’s just so strange to read about my daughter in the news.” Elize set the datapad aside. “I was reading more about the guide, Sirio Falken. You must have made quite the impression on him,” she observed.
“Mom …” Vina said, cocking an eyebrow. “I know where this is headed.”
“What?” Elize asked, innocently. “I’m just pointing out that he rescued you, twice.”
“He would have done that for anyone,” Vina argued.
“Mm-hm,” Elize said, unconvinced. “Regardless, he seems like an interesting man. What is he doing now that his tour company is out of business?”
Hopefully, convincing the warden to let him back into jail, Vina thought. He may even be with Dad already.
“He’s … uh … trying to figure that out, last we spoke. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do.”
“You’ve been keeping in touch since the crash?” Elize asked.
“We flew back together … or rather, we were on the same flight,” Vina said, blushing. “But we’re just friends.”
“Okay,” Elize said, holding up her hands. “I don’t mean to pry.”
“He’s definitely not my type,” Vina said. “You know me, I usually date quiet guys. Not big hulking adventure tour guides.”
“Mm,” Elize said. “I thought I had a type, too, until I met your father.” A sad smile touched her face briefly, and then Elize picked up her datapad, and turned her attention back to the article.
Vina frowned. “Mom?”
Elize looked up. “Yes?”
“Can we talk about Dad?”
Elize pressed her lips together, but she nodded, and put the datapad down again. “Okay.”
“Why do you think he did it?” Vina asked.
“I don’t know,” Elize said. “I never understood it myself. Your father never seemed like a man capable of doing such a thing.”
“Do you think he’s innocent?” Vina asked.
“No,” Elize said, frowning. “I think he just got so scared and frustrated at not being able to find us, and when he saw Tevka, all that frustration and fear and anger came pouring out before he knew what had happened.”
“I wish we could have seen him one last time. Or talked to him about it.”
“So do I,” Elize said. “But I know what he would have said – he talked to Grandpa, once or twice, while he was on trial.”
“What did he say?”
“He insisted – even after he was convicted – that he hadn’t done it,” Elize said. “I think by that point he had convinced himself that he really hadn’t.”
“Tell me what happened?” Vina asked.
“You know what happened,” Elize said.
“Just humor me,” Vina said.
Elize sighed. “It was a Friday, early in September. I picked you and your brother up from school, and we came back here to get Enzo ready for soccer practice. I opened the door, and there he was, standing in the hall, with a mask and a gun.”
“You knew it was Tevka right away,” Vina said, remembering. “You called him by name.”
“I recognized his posture,” Elize agreed. “He used to slouch around the store all day like that, before your father fired him.” She tucked her legs up underneath her on the couch. “He forced us back into the car, and then drove us to his car, and eventually led us to that awful bunker he had found.”
“I just remember how dark it was, all the time. And it would get so cold at night,” Vina said. “You used to try to talk to Tevka, those first few days, when he came to check on us.”
“I was trying to reason with him,” Elize said. “But he would always just ignore me, shine the flashlight on us for a few seconds, and then leave. And we stayed there, for three and a half weeks, until your grandfather found us.”
“What did Dad do when we disappeared?”
“When h
e got home and found the ransom note, he went to the police, immediately,” Elize said. “And they started searching for us. Your father and Grandpa closed up the store, and spent the next few days either here, waiting for a call or another ransom letter, or out spreading the word to people, to see if anyone had seen us. It was all over the newsnets during that time.”
“Then Tevka called Dad,” Vina prompted.
“I think it was an email,” Elize said, shaking her head. “He told your father to meet him outside of town, and come alone, or else he’d kill one of us.”
“Dad didn’t tell the cops about that email?” Vina asked.
“No,” Elize said. “Perhaps things would have gone differently if he had. But it was the first message he’d gotten since we disappeared, and it was a very angry, forceful message. So he decided to go alone.”
“What happened next?”
Elize sighed. “Must we, Vina?”
“Please, Mom,” Vina said.
Elize shook her head. “They met up in the woods. Your father stabbed Tevka, and then came back here briefly. He threw out a few things – a hat, I think, and Tevka’s wristpad. Then he gathered some tools to go back and bury the body, and soon after he got there, the police arrived. They found Tevka, searched the trunk of your father’s car, and arrested him. And you know the rest.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Then Vina cleared her throat. “What did Dad say happened?” she asked. “What’s his version of things?”
“He didn’t seem to remember a lot of what happened. He told the police he had only just gotten there and discovered the body – that it was his first time going there, not his second trip. He had no idea how the tools got in the trunk, or how some of Tevka’s belongings ended up back at our house.”
“How else would they have gotten there?” Vina asked.
“I don’t know, honey,” Elize said. “As much as I want to believe otherwise, the simplest explanation is that your father put them there, and then lied about it.”
“Wait, why were the police out by the woods in the first place?” Vina asked, frowning. “How did they know to look there?”