Rules of Conflict Read online

  Val rushed to her. He knelt down, grasped her ankle, and snatched a glance at the bottom of her foot. Then he looked back at the sensapad. “Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!” He hurried to the pad platform, tore the thin polymer film from its metal base, rolled it into a tight tube, and shoved it under his jacket and into the waistband of his trousers. Then he rushed to the door, pushing through the gap before it opened completely. “I need a shockpack!”

  He returned, dragging an equipment-laden skimcart; white coats streamed in after him like a flood of milk. Two of them lifted Jani onto the scanbed while Tellinn clipped a monitor relay to her ear. “Hurry the hell up, Val,” he snapped. “Her oxygen saturation’s dropping like a rock.”

  Prodded with probes, raked over by scanners, Jani watched the frantic bustle with growing disinterest. Her world had become one of deadened emotion, blurring color, choppy sound and motion. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Val work over her right arm, then felt the pinch of an injector. The heaviness in her chest eased, and she inhaled with a wheezy rattle.

  “Blood pressure’s up. A hundred over fifty-five.” The source of the announcement, a silver-haired woman with CHIEF OF STAFF etched into her ID badge fixed Val with a glare. “What happened, Parini?”

  Val’s eyes locked with Jani’s. They know, Jan, they said, as the once-glib mouth worked soundlessly. Sweat trickled down the face he’d copied for her, in a basement lab outside a war-torn alien city, when he and John and Eamon had learned enough about her to realize rebuilding her old one wasn’t an option.

  They know you’re here.

  Chapter 2

  “Here, drink this.” Val refilled the cup and pushed it over to Jani’s side of the table. “Now, while it’s hot.”

  Jani eyed the black, foamy brew with distaste. John’s coffee had always tasted like a gift from the gods. Val’s, on the other hand . . . . “Don’t you think three cups are enough?” She belched quietly. “My stomach’s going to go critical any second.” She gazed longingly across the table at his iced lemonade. “I think we can ease up on the caffeine—my breathing’s fine.”

  Val had returned to the bar, set in a sunken alcove in the middle of his spacious hotel room, and continued to rummage through coolers and cupboards. “Just keep drinking—you’re not out of the woods yet. Damn it, I injected you with enough adrenosol to punch a resistant male one and a half times your weight through the ceiling, and it just brought your blood pressure up into low-normal. I couldn’t risk giving you more, not with all those expert witnesses around.” He slammed the cabinet door.

  “I got enough of the fish-eye as it was. ‘Wasn’t that dose a tad high, Val? What were you doing to her, anyway?’ They know the story of the patient we patched together on Shèrá, and not all of them approved of our methods. I swear they all think I was experimenting on you, and it backfired. You’d think that damned augmentation of yours could have helped you out.”

  “You know Service augies only work in threatening situations.” Jani fingered the tiny round scar on the back of her neck where skull met spine. The large bore canula of a stereotaxic headset had punched a hole there over twenty years ago, then injected the self-assembling components of her little passenger. “Discharge a shooter across my bow, I can get as frosty and functional as you please.” Only then would the tiny glands adjacent to her amygdala release their reservoirs of pseudocatecholamines. Sharpen her wits. Ease her panic. Dull her pain.

  But if I’m not pissed off or scared senseless, I’m on my own. She pulled in a deep, wheezing breath, and choked down another sip of coffee. “So what happened?” Her stomach gurgled ominously.

  Val returned to the table, the results of his explorations clutched in his hands. He piled all the stomach-settling food he could find, dispos of crackers and peppermint candies, by Jani’s cup, then fell into the chair across from her. “I’ve got the head of Security running scan searches and background checks to see who the hell could have put the mat there. I’m not optimistic. It was either a Service or Cabinet plant, and they’re probably off-world by now.” He fumbled with a packet of crackers. “As for what was in it, I won’t know for sure until I test it, and I can’t test it properly until I get it home. Whatever it was, it had your number. You stood on it for no more than ten minutes, and the soles of your feet look like someone went after them with a strap.”

  Jani winced. Her heavily salved feet, encased in thick, truecotton booties, tingled with a maddening, itchy burn. The booties had been treated with anti-irritants and healing accelerants, but they couldn’t work miracles. Walking promised to be a real treat for the next few days.

  Wherever I happen to be. She checked her timepiece; six hours had elapsed since her episode. Most of that time had been spent in the office of Dr. Fanshul, the tart-tongued chief of staff, who had argued vehemently that it was in Jani’s best interest to stay in the hospital overnight for observation. Val had put an end to the debate, and blown his cover in the process, by signing her out under his care. By the time all the signatures were in place, half the facility knew something strange had happened on the seventy-second floor involving one of the “Big Three” and a mysterious “woman in white.”

  “So?” Val laid claim to one of the peppermints. “Have I fucked up your situation here sufficiently, or should I try for full-page adverts in tomorrow morning’s newssheets?” He smiled broadly, his teeth and lips coated bright blue by the candy.

  Jani knew he wanted to coax a smile out of her. Under different circumstances, it might have worked. “I have to get off-planet. Within the hour.”

  Val slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the table. “My ship’s having some refit work done. It’ll be ready in two days. Let me take you—”

  “I can’t wait two days.”

  “You better find a way. Face reality. You almost died. As things stand now, I can hear you breathe across the room—that situation isn’t going to change for days. And if you try to do much walking on those feet of yours, you risk a nasty infection.”

  “Can’t you give me something to see me through?”

  Val’s expression grew pained. “Jan, I’m not sure how the drugs I have on hand would affect you. As you learned to your detriment in Chicago, your response to some common medications has become idiosyncratic.” He stared moodily into his lemonade. “For all I know, there’s nothing wrong with that sensapad. You may have simply developed a sensitivity to that particular biopolymer, and damn it, if exposure to something like that is enough to knock you for a loop, what else out there could affect you?”

  “That’s not your problem.”

  “Monkey’s ass it’s not my problem! You—” Val fell silent. Jani could almost hear the click of a balance as he weighed his words. “Jan, your body is going through some changes right now. We know why, but the how, what, when, and where have us a little baffled.” He looked at the ceiling, into the depths of his glass, everywhere but at her.

  “Why can’t you say it, Val?” Jani took another sip of coffee, and swallowed hard. “Eighteen years ago, you patched me together with tissue manufactured from human and idomeni genetic material. You thought you’d deactivated most of the idomeni genes, but you hadn’t. You thought you’d made it so I’d live for two hundred years, but you didn’t stop to think what I might live as.”

  Val blinked rapidly. “Jani,” he said, his voice cracking, “you’re wrong.”

  “I’m hybridizing. I’m not human anymore, but I’m not idomeni either. I can eat Haárin spices that would blister the inside of your mouth, but some of their herbs and nuts go through me like poison. I can’t drink human tea anymore. I can barely choke down anything sweet, but I can peel a lemon and eat it like you would an orange.” Jani heard the tremor in her voice. When she tallied up the small things—that was when it scared her. “Nema was right. He said this would happen, that no matter how you tried to stop it, I would continue to change.”

  “Jani, Nema is a religious fanatic with an ag
enda as long as my arm. Let’s leave your medical care to experts, shall we?”

  “And which experts would those be, Val? The ones who got me into this mess in the first place?”

  Val flinched as though she’d slapped him. The room lighting accentuated the lines near his mouth, signs of age Jani couldn’t find around her own no matter how hard she looked. “Jani, we did the best we could for you.”

  “That you did, Val, that you did. Thanks to you, I have eyes that look like two corroded copper discs and eating habits that make people stare. I york my guts a couple times a week, and between the nausea and the shivery shakes, my every day is a joy. And let’s not forget that this condition of mine has reinforced Nema’s grand theory that I’m his heir apparent, which gives him the right to take charge of the rest of my life if I ever let him get his hands on me, which I don’t believe I will, thank you!” She glared at the stricken man. “I’ve had time to think these past few months. Way too much time. I hate being this way and I didn’t have a choice. And now that the Service and the Commonwealth government know I’m alive, all they have to do is follow the trail. I’m a goddamn walking disaster siren!”

  “Jani, we—” Val’s voice cracked. “Do you hate us that much?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  “No.” He sniffed. Cleared his throat. “You need more in-depth assessment than I can give you here. Come back with me to Seattle. You and I always got along, and Eamon isn’t around much these days.” He hesitated. “And whatever you think of John, he would like very much to see you.”

  Bits of memory flitted through Jani’s mind. Some were more vivid than others. “Does he still play the violin?”

  “Yes.” Val’s voice lifted hopefully. “You’d enjoy listening to him now—he’s gotten rather good.”

  “Just the three of us basking in one another’s company and listening to John fiddle. That sounds familiar.” Jani looked out the tableside window. Fifty floors below, early-evening skimmer traffic crammed Felix Majora’s main thoroughfare. Above the nearby mountains, barely visible through an artificial forest of scancrete and glass, the setting sun glowed like a weld spot. “You and John live in a dream world. Eamon would know better. He wouldn’t be able to shove me out the door fast enough.” A cramp shot through her abdomen. She tore open a packet of crackers and forced them down.

  “Jan, we can keep you safe. No one will even suspect you’re Earthside.”

  “Really? Is Neoclona a sovereign state? I read the newssheets, Val. I watch the ’Vee. Funny the stories that keep cropping up. Rehashes about how human-idomeni relations took a dive after Knevçet Shèràa. Garbled rumor about the death of Rikart Neumann. Portraits of Evan as the emotionally battered son and lover. Can’t you see what’s happening? His attorneys are scrambling for a defense, and I’m it.”

  “Jani, he gave the order to have your transport blown out of the sky to cover up his involvement in Knevçet Shèràa. Nobody’s that good a scrambler.”

  “Oh yeah? Has he been formally charged?”

  “John knows he’s guilty. He told me—”

  “Has Evan been formally charged?” Jani nodded as the uncertainty flickered in Val’s eyes. “The term is plea bargain. He’s telling the Service all about me. I won’t even need a trial—they’d just shoot me at O’Hare.”

  “We have influence.”

  “Val, I killed Neumann. My commanding officer. The first N in NUVA-SCAN. The Families are closing rank.” She stood and headed for the door. “Your influence and a vend token.” She took one step. Two. Before she could take a third, popping sensations worked across both soles, followed by stinging wetness, then raw agony as though she skated over metal blades.

  Jani didn’t feel herself fall; she only knew she was on the floor. As pain radiated up her legs and she gasped for breath, she felt a hand close over her shoulder.

  “You’re not running out on us, Jan,” Val said gently. “Not this time. And when you finally do go somewhere, it’s going to be with me.”

  In the end, they compromised.

  “I don’t like this one damn bit.” Val snaked the Neoclona staff skimmer down one of Felix Majora’s less-traveled side streets. The sleek, silver two-seater didn’t meet Jani’s standards as a getaway vehicle. It drew the eye like a stone skipping over water. Pedestrians stopped to stare as it passed.

  At least it wasn’t purple.

  “You have to keep your date with Hugh,” she said. “He can tell you what they’re saying about us in the staff room.”

  Val checked a street sign, compared it to the name on his directional screen, and frowned. “He’s not like that. No matter his feelings, he’s always kept his own counsel.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you can work around his better judgment. Use your legendary powers of persuasion.” Jani watched out her window as large commercial buildings gave way to the smaller residential structures of the city’s mountain side. It took her some time to realize Val hadn’t spoken; she turned to find him eyeing her with ill-concealed discomfort.

  “I don’t like playing the tart while you’re running loose doing God knows what.”

  “Staying put in my apartment. Packing.”

  “Packing. Right.” Val pointed to the directional’s touchpad. “I like Hugh. The idea of working him repulses me.”

  “Considering your performance this afternoon, I find that difficult to believe.”

  “That was fun!” Val sighed. “Would’ve been fun. This is different. There’s too much at stake, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  “Just find out what they’re saying about us. If Hugh asks about me, bring up the massive clinical study you’re planning. Tell him you want to base it in a colonial facility for a change. Mention it will need a director. Throw in that famous smile, and you’ll be in like a greased weasel.” Val shifted uneasily, and Jani forced a grin. “Look, if it’s any consolation, I’ve done the tart thing once or twice. If I can do it, you’re a lock.”

  Val stopped at an intersection and glanced at the directional. “You say left, it says right.”

  “Take a left.”

  He shrugged and turned left. “Sometimes, at the end of the day, when we’ve worked to the point of exhaustion and all our internal safeguards have burnt out, John and I will uncork a bottle of wine and talk. About you. Where you could be living, what you could be doing. John does most of the talking.” He glanced at Jani sidelong. “I don’t think I’ll repeat this conversation to him anytime soon.”

  They turned another corner. The sudden brightness of the streetlights hit Jani full in the face. She closed her eyes against the battering glare; they watered anyway. “Fuck you,” she said. “Stop here. I’m getting out.”

  “What!” Val jerked the wheel in surprise, sending the skimmer over the curb boundary and up onto the sidewalk. The vehicle’s proximity alarms blatted as he tried to regain control from the autonav, which fought to turn the skimmer in the opposite direction. By the time he maneuvered into an idling slot near a small playground, residents from nearby buildings had gathered in windows and doorways to watch. Scattered applause sounded as the vehicle shuddered to a stop.

  Jani watched a woman across the street point at the skimmer and laugh. “You have a future in this business, I can tell.”

  “Oh, bullshit!” Val glared at their surroundings. Much of the playground equipment had been dismantled, lighting was intermittent at best, and several less-polished-looking skimmers had already veered by for a look at the spiff new visitor. “I’ll be damned if I’m letting you out here—this place is a dump!” He pointed to the directional touchpad. “I don’t know why you told me to bring you here, anyway—the address code on Shane Averill’s MedRec says—”

  Jani popped open her door, but Val dragged her back inside the skimmer before she could flee. His grip on her animandroid upper arm made her gasp—he knew just where to grab and how hard to squeeze. “Shane Averill was a one-shot, wasn’t it? Something you p
atched together to get through the visit to Neoclona? You don’t work at Felix Cruiseways, and you don’t live at the address in your file!” He struggled to pull the door closed with his free hand. “We’re supposed to meet tomorrow morning at your apartment, Jani. Now how the hell are we supposed to do that when I don’t know where you live!”

  Jani tried to wedge her right leg through the shrinking gap between door and seal. “I’ll meet you at your hotel.”

  “You said you didn’t want to go back there anymore. You said it was too risky.” Val swore as Jani wriggled halfway out of the skimmer. He tried to drag her back into the cabin without releasing his grip on the door pull, but before he could set himself, the gullwing flew upward, pulling him headlong across Jani’s lap before finally wrenching free.

  Hot, dry night spilled into the cabin.

  “Hey, lindo, que pa?” A wiry Feliciano, bare to the waist and sporting a half-shaved head, stood in the gaping entry. He leaned forward while still holding on to the door pull; the stretched pose accentuated his thin waist and bony chest. “What’s wrong, pretty man with the pretty skim, you don’t get your money’s worth?” He leered at Jani. “Hard girl like this don’t earn her pay?” He rapped the door sharply, and shapes moved into the range of the skimmer headlights. Four of them. “Maybe we give you both your money’s worth.”

  Jani eased her other knee from beneath Val’s body. “When I bolt, you floor it and go.”

  “Oh shit, Jan, don’t—”

  Jani kicked out. Before she’d left Val’s hotel room, she’d supplemented her booties with three pairs of his socks and a pair of his hiking boots. Her padded and armored feet connected perfectly with Shaved-head’s solar plexus; he dropped to the ground. She scrambled out of the cabin and over his gasping form, pounding off in the direction opposite his cohorts before any of them could react. After a few strides, she heard the gratifying whine of an accelerating skimmer, followed by the much-less-welcome sound of pursuing footsteps. She tried to pick up her pace, but her feet burned as though she ran through flame. Her chest ached. Her legs turned to cement.