by R S Penney
Jon stiffened but kept his back turned, his hands trembling as he tried to hold onto some scrap of patience. “Because there are rules, Keli,” he snapped. “Rules that exist to protect a citizen's rights.”
Keli slouched until her head hung upside-down over the back of her chair. “Rules,” she said. “You Keepers and your obsession with protocol! Your choices are really quite simple, Jon; you can follow the rules, or you can win.”
Clenching her teeth, Melissa turned her head to fix her gaze on the other woman. She narrowed her eyes. “You can't just go around reading people's minds,” she growled. “They have a right to privacy.”
Keli sat upright.
A cruel smile blossomed on her face. “And while you worry about that,” she said, “your enemies will just do what needs to be done.”
Ben stood in front of the wall across from her with his arms folded, frowning down at his own feet. “ 'Doing what needs to be done' is just vague enough that you can use it to justify anything,” he said. “Believe me, I know.”
Thrusting her chin out, Keli squinted at him. “Yes, you do,” she said, rising slowly from her chair. “Do you realize that, on my world, you would be celebrated as a hero for what you did?”
She was referring to Ben's decision to allow Fringe-World colonists to keep the weapons they had illegally acquired; that was public knowledge now. Though, Melissa was fairly certain that he didn't want to be reminded of it.
Ben went red, then shook his head in disgust. “I don't want to be celebrated,” he said in a gruff voice. “What I did-”
“Was necessary.”
“Enough!” Jon bellowed.
He spun around to stand in front of the window with his fists balled at his sides. “I don't like having to repeat myself,” he went on. “We will not be employing your talents, Keli.”
The telepath closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “Then I have to wonder why I'm on this team,” she said. “It's not as if you've made use of my abilities even once in the last three months.”
By all means, Melissa thought, leave at your earliest convenience. She didn't say it, of course; it wasn't her place to say it. Working with Raynar had taught her the value of having a telepath in the mix, but there was one very important difference in this situation; she had trusted Raynar.
“Options?” Jon said.
“If we assume Tarso is telling the truth,” Ben said, stepping forward, “then the next question becomes who hacked his access codes. That may be hard to answer.”
Melissa strode toward the desk with her hands folded behind herself, keeping her head down. “I think we should continue looking at security camera footage,” she offered. “If we can get a sense of who was in the area before the bomb went off…”
Jon looked up to study her with dark eyes, then nodded once to show his approval. “All right,” he said. “If you believe that's wise, I'll assign a team.”
“I'd like to work on this personally, Director Andalon.”
“Your contributions have been noteworthy, Cadet Carlson,” he replied. “But you've only just begun your training. This case is out of your depth.”
“But-”
“Focus on your studies, Melissa,” Jon cut in before she could voice her protest. “I will make sure that you get a chance to shadow the right people, but you are by no means ready to take the lead on this case.”
“All right,” she said. “If you think that's best.”
Double doors in the shape of an arch – both made of polished mahogany – stood before her with light glinting off the brass door handle. The hallway outside the Hall of Council was lined with portraits on the white walls and lamps on golden stands that cast light down on the blue carpets.
Larani stood just outside the doors in a black skirt with a short-sleeved blouse and stockings, her black hair tied in a long ponytail. Sitting in on a session of Council always made her feel as if she ought to project a certain formality, even if there was no reason to expect she would be called upon to speak.
A hologram appeared before her: the image of a tall man in black pants and a white shirt under his maroon vest. “You may go in, Director Tal,” it said before rippling away in a swirl of colour.
She pulled one door open.
On the other side, a set of steps formed an aisle between rows of blue cushioned seats that occupied the second level. She could already hear the raised voices of the speakers below radiating through this large room with its vaulted ceiling.
Larani closed her eyes, breathing deeply. This is part of your job now, she thought, taking that first step forward. Sit through it, keep an eye on the political currents and use that information to your advantage.
Larani had a talent for politics, though no love for it.
She chose a seat near the ledge that overlooked the first floor, sitting primly with her hands on her knees, hunched over to peer over the railing. If today's session followed the same pattern as the one she had attended last week…
Down below, 987 seats in a semi-circle along the opposite wall were occupied by councilors who represented various districts across Leyria, each one dressed in colours that showed party affiliation. That wasn't required, but it had become a tradition. The Reds were in the middle as the current dominant party with the Greens on their right and the Blues on their left.
One man in a blue coat with a high collar trimmed with silver was already on his feet and speaking in a clear, crisp voice. Jeral Dusep was of average height with bronze skin and black hair that he wore combed back. “The tide must be stemmed,” he said. “At some point, we have to put a moratorium on this influx of immigrants.”
Larani sat forward with her elbow upon her knee, covering her mouth with three fingers. Well, this should be interesting, she thought. He's never been quite so…brazen about his views before now.
On the red-carpeted floor at the base of the seats reserved for the councilors, a tall woman in a white coat stood with her back turned, a golden staff in the shape of a shepherd's crook in her hand. From this angle, Larani could only see the back of Sarona Vason's white-haired head, but she knew that the Prime Council had no patience for Dusep's open bigotry.
Sadly, there was little she could say; the Prime Council's job was not to argue but to mediate disputes among the councilors and to force a vote if necessary.
Dusep stood in the seventh row up, in the blue section, gesticulating wildly as he spoke. “They come to our world with backward ideas,” he went on. “Violent and hateful ideologies! And worse yet, many of the Earthers that we take in as refugees are those who could not survive on their own world. Meaning it becomes our job to care for them.”
Tapping her lips with one finger, Larani narrowed her eyes. What are you playing at? she wondered, sitting forward. Your party isn't known for an anti-Earth stance; so, you can't think this will fire up the base.
In fact, none of the parties were openly hostile to Earth. Few people saw the influx of immigrants – no more than a few thousand each year – as a threat or a problem. Was this simply Dusep's personal opinion?
“Now, look at the result,” Dusep said. “Last night's attack on the vertical farm is a direct result of anti-Leyrian sentiment. They claim our society coddles its citizens.”
A murmur rose up in response to that: most of it negative, but Larani was sure she heard the odd grumble of approval. Could the Sons of Savard be tapping into a sentiment that was taking root at the heart of Leyrian society?
“And so,” Dusep shouted over the crowd. “They resort to violence to show us the error of our ways!”
On the floor, Sarona Vason turned and pointed the end of her staff at him. “There is no evidence to indicate that immigrants had anything to do with last night's attack.” That was another facet of her job: fact-checking, holding councilors accountable for the things they said.
Larani didn't like where this was going.
“Is that a fact?” Dusep asked, stepping forward. “And this ideology of s
urvival of the fittest that the Sons of Savard endorse? One of the guiding principles of Earth culture.”
A woman on the other side of the room stood up, looking sharp in her dark-green dress with a V-shaped neckline. She was a blonde-haired beauty with a chin-length bob and a delicate nose. Gorgeous. It bothered Larani that her mind went to such places while she was trying to do her job, but there it was.
“Earth doesn't have a single defining culture,” the woman said. “Their capacity for instantaneous planet-wide communication is less than one hundred years old. They have not had enough time to become homogeneous in the way other worlds have.”
“Regardless,” Dusep began.
Sarona Vason slammed the butt of her staff down on the floor, abruptly silencing him. “Regardless,” she cut in before Dusep could begin protesting. “Instigating this kind of unfounded panic among our citizens will only make it harder for law enforcement to do their jobs. This line of discussion is over.”
“But-”
The Prime Council pointed the end of her shepherd's crook at him, and Dusep shut his mouth so quickly that you might have thought Sarona Vason was a wizard on the verge of turning him into a toad.
Councilor Dusep sat down with a grunt, resting his hands on his knees and staring blankly into the distance. Something about his posture seemed to indicate that this line of discussion wasn't over, but he wouldn't press the point right now.
“We will resume our discussion on Bill 24C3,” Sarona insisted.
Larani tuned the whole thing out; she wasn't the least bit interested in a bill about redefining the regulations governing medical bots. No, Dusep's latest ploy had her feeling very uneasy. After three years of running a Keeper team on Earth, she had seen just how destructive such divisive rhetoric could be.
The man was definitely up to something, and in taking on the role of Head of the Justice Keepers, she had made it her job to keep an eye on him. Worry gnawed away at her insides; she didn't like this.
She didn't like it one bit.
“So, explain the sitch to me again.”
The auxiliary crime lab in the basement of the Denabrian Justice Keeper office was a cramped little room with no sources of natural light. Four spartan gray walls surrounded a control console in the shape of a horseshoe, and the entire place was just big enough to hold maybe a dozen people.
This room was used primarily for reviewing security camera footage; as such, none of the equipment that would fill other crime labs was present. The whole thing felt very much like a coffin to Melissa; she had never liked tight, enclosed spaces and sharing this one with her father and Anna was less than ideal.
Dressed in blue jeans and a plain, white t-shirt, Melissa leaned against the side of the console with her hands folded over her stomach, staring up at the ceiling. “Director Andalon says he doesn't want me getting near this case,” she explained. “I'm supposed to focus on my studies.”
Her father stood by the wall in an open-collared shirt and sport coat, heaving out a soft sigh. “Well put, Missy,” he grumbled. “Way to make it sound like you're in the third act of a buddy cop picture.”
Melissa grimaced, then touched a single finger to her forehead. “The point is that I can't access the train station's security camera footage,” she said. “Cadets can't make use of this equipment without a supervising officer.”
Anna stood behind the console with one fist on her hip, smiling down at herself. “You're nuts,” she said, shaking her head. “Melissa, when I said I wanted to spend some time with you guys, this wasn't what I had in mind.”
“But can you help?”
The other woman sucked on her bottom lip, nodding slowly as she thought it over. “I could,” Anna said. “But you haven't given me much reason to think that I should.”
“I want to be part of this.”
“Why?”
Why? How did Melissa even begin to answer that question? Perhaps because she carried the symbiont of one of the best Keepers who had ever lived, perhaps because she was eager to prove herself. Maybe focusing on the job made it easier for both Melissa and her Nassai to deal with the sadness.
Closing her eyes, Melissa took a deep breath through her nose. “I just want to do something,” she whispered in a soft rasp. “I was there when Jena fought that thing that Overseer made to defend the Nexus. I was helpless, and I hate that feeling.”
With some reluctance, Melissa turned around to find the other woman watching her with those big blue eyes. Did her words make an impression? Her reasons did sound kind of hollow when she spoke them out loud, but…
Anna stepped up to the control console, her fingers dancing over its surface. “You are lucky that I'm a go with your heart kind of girl.” There were a few soft beeps as she put in her passwords and brought up menus accessing the holographic imaging systems. “Besides, Jena was a force to be reckoned with because she relied on so many diverse perspectives, not just trained Keepers. Maybe that means a cadet has something to add.”
White light streamed up from projectors on the wall across from Anna, forming a screen of light that was bright but not painful to look at. Colour seeped into the image bit by bit.
A long stretch of black pavement beneath an overhanging roof ran alongside a set of train tracks that stretched on for several dozen paces before entering a tunnel. By the warm light coming in from the west, it was clear that this footage was filmed at dusk.
No one was standing on the platform, not one soul. The place was so deserted that Melissa half expected to see a tumbleweed blow across the screen. It suddenly dawned on her that she had just asked permission to view hours upon hours of camera footage with no guarantee that she would see anything of significance.
A train emerged from the tunnel, hovering two feet above the mag-lev tracks as it settled to a stop next to the platform. Doors slid open, and then – twenty seconds later – they slid shut again. No one had disembarked.
Anna looked up at the screen with lips pursed, her brows drawn together. “Hold on a sec,” she said, tapping at the console. “I'm going to run an algorithm that should speed up the process.”
The train zipped back into the tunnel at an accelerated rate, and the image darkened as the sun set. Lights in the overhanging roof came on, making it easy to see every square inch of the platform.
Another train emerged from the tunnel, settled to a stop for maybe half a second and then went back the way it had come. Once again, there was no one on the platform. And why would there be? The farms were automated; maintenance workers only came out this far once or twice a week.
She watched three more trains emerge from the tunnel without a single passenger getting off. Even with the film sped up, this was beyond frustrating. Her father was right; law enforcement was mostly a slow, tedious grind punctuated by brief moments of high intensity. But she was in it now.
Five minutes later, after what was probably the fourteenth or fifteenth train, Melissa perked up when the footage slowed down to normal speed.
A train on the platform had its doors open, light spilling out from within. Two people emerged, one after the other, and the image froze in place as orange rectangles surrounded each of them.
The camera zoomed in, and Melissa saw herself in profile. The figure behind her was obviously Aiden. “We were the first ones to arrive,” she whispered. “No one else came by train.”
Once again, the footage sped up only to slow down again less than five seconds later. Director Andalon stepped off the train, an orange box surrounding his body. He turned to face the camera with a stern expression and began tapping the screen of his multi-tool.
“What's he doing?” Melissa wondered aloud.
“Most likely, he's requisitioning the footage you're looking at,” Anna explained. “Chances are he went through it himself and realized that the bomber didn't arrive by train. This was a duplication of effort, Melissa.”
There was no venom in Anna's voice – in fact, her tone was incredibly gentle – but Meliss
a felt the sting of those words anyway. What was she doing, wasting everybody's time? She really should have left this to experienced Keepers. Stubborn resolve replaced self-pity mere seconds later.
Clasping her chin in one hand, Melissa shut her eyes. “No,” she said, taking a few steps toward the hologram. “There's got to be something else we can try. Can you show me the farm's security cameras?”
Anna tapped in a few commands.
The hologram changed, turning white for a few seconds before it reformed into the image of a narrow road outside a gate. Once again, the sun was just a few minutes away from setting. She could see the train platform in the distance.
“Hang on,” Anna said.
The footage sped up, though it was hard to notice with no obvious cues to mark the passing of time. The landscape darkened and then lights came on, shining down on the road. For the longest time, it seemed as if nothing was happening. Then her eye caught a glimpse of something. “Freeze it.”
The image went still.
There on the road, roughly ten paces away from the gate, a smear of black and gray looked so very much like a fingerprint on the camera lens. There was no orange rectangle to identify this as a person; it was more like a camera distortion than anything else, but there was something odd about it.
“Resume playback,” Melissa said. “Normal speed.”
The smear of black and gray moved toward the gate.
“Reverse playback.”
A few taps from Anna made the video play backward, the blur of colour moving away from the gate, back out to the road. Something about it imitated human movements. “That's a person!” Melissa exclaimed.
Biting her lip, Anna looked down at the console, strands of blue hair framing her face. “I think you're right,” she muttered. “A person using some type of jamming tech to prevent the camera from getting a clean image.”
Harry stepped forward with his arms folded, shaking his head as he let out a deep breath. “That kind of tech exists?” he asked. “You can just disrupt a security camera with some kind of cloaking field?”
“It's basic holography,” Anna said. “Spy movies on my world usually imagine a criminal using a complex hologram to make himself look like someone else, but that's unrealistic. Holograms are transparent. Even the best ones can't convincingly mimic a human face, but if you simply create a distortion field of refracted light around yourself, that'll do the trick.”