Endgame Page 3

  Now it was Jani’s turn to shrug. “It happens.”

  “More and more, seems like. What was it this time?”

  Jani rolled up her shirtsleeves and held out her arms so the sun could warm them. “I thought that Thalassa would take the place of Rauta Shèràa for him, that he’d come to consider it home. Now I think it reminds him of what he lost. He spent his entire adult life up to his chin in worldskein politics. He was one of the most influential idomeni who ever lived.”

  “He still is, gel.” Niall tugged at his tunic’s banded collar, then wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow. Even with cooling cell-equipped clothing, Elyan heat battered non-native humanish with ovenlike intensity. “Just because Cèel stripped him of a title and made him Haárin? Doesn’t mean a damned thing to anyone I talk to. Call him by his bornsect name, Avrèl nìRau Nema. Or call him Egri nìRau Tsecha or ní Tsecha Egri or a sack of laundry. He’s still a power to be reckoned with.” He stepped back from the rail until the shade of one of the Karistos region’s weird palm trees fell across him. “Cèel thought that if he made him Haárin, he’d neuter him. All it did was give him the freedom to rebuild his power base, surround himself with like minds.” He took a last drag on his ’stick, then flicked the spent cylinder into a trash bin.

  “He never needed moral support, or an audience.” Jani pushed down her sleeves and refastened the cuffs. “He believes that which he believes. Fine. It’s not just duty that compels him to speak out, it’s something more. It’s in his blood and bone, the air he breathes. He could no more keep quiet about what he feels is wrong with Vynshàrau religious doctrine than I could flap my arms and fly across the bay.”

  She paced along the rail. “But what he doesn’t realize, or want to realize, is that every time he shoots off his mouth, I’m the one who gets hit with the flak. Questions about where I stand. Rumors that Thalassa is a training ground for anti-Commonwealth extremists. And when I try to tell him that Thalassa doesn’t have a diplomatic leg to stand on, that Chicago is afraid of us and his radicalism is assumed to be our radicalism, he tells me that I do not know of that which I speak.” She stopped and glared out at the sun-seared water until her eyes teared from the brightness. “So on he flames. I put out one fire, and a week or two later another pops up to take its place.” She turned to Niall to find him leaning on the rail and watching her, his head cocked. “What?” She caught the bare twitch of his lip, and felt her face heat. “Shut up.”

  “I’m not saying a word.” Niall straightened, then pulled a linen square from his trouser pocket. “And I’m not taking one iota of cold pleasure in this at all, even though any sort of chill would feel like heaven at the moment.” He ran the cloth over his face, then folded it into a tight square and tucked it up his sleeve. “‘How does it feel?’ will never cross my—”

  “Niall.”

  Niall raised his hands in mock surrender. Let them fall, and walked toward the stand of weird palms. “You and I…” He lowered onto a rickety chair someone had left beneath. Braced his hands on his knees and looked out at nothing. “We had to build walls around parts of our lives. It’s not always easy. I know you well enough to pick up when you’re holding back, and I’d guess you could say the same about me. It’s difficult, dealing with the conflicts and the suspicion. But when you’ve a friend…” He switched his gaze to the flagstone at his feet. “It’s worth it.” He sat still and silent for a time, then shook his head as though awakening from a daze. “Tsecha’s a strategist, a thinker. You’re more a tactician, a field man. I always thought you complimented one another well.”

  “That depends on whether we’re fighting the same battle, doesn’t it?” Jani kicked at a loose flake of flagstone, sending it skittering across the terrace. “If we start to fight one another, who do you think has the advantage?”

  Niall sat back and folded his arms. “The strategist. They would take the long view, have backup plans in place. But sometimes they get wrapped up in theory and miss details…” Again, a shake of the head. Harder, this time. “Tsecha would sooner die than fall out with you. I think it would break his heart.” His eyes widened. “Christ, Jan.” A scrabble for another nicstick. The sharp crunch, followed by the cloud of smoke. “Growing pains. This place has exploded since you arrived here a year ago, and you’re still shaking things out. He’s adjusting to life in the enclave. You’re adjusting to duties as a priest-in-training and the dominance of Thalassa. Stands to reason you’d fight. If you didn’t, I’d ask John to check your vitals.”

  Jani looked toward the settlement, the newest homes that stood on what a month ago had been open land. “There are those here who have no place else to go. Their families disowned them when they hybridized, and their governments don’t trust them because they don’t know whose side they’re on. If Chicago decides that there’s some sort of militant hotbed developing here, what action do you think they’ll take? Hell, Niall, you get the memos. You have the list of who to pick up first.” And I bet I know whose name is at the top.

  Niall looked everywhere but at her. “I take from this that we have another theological essay to look forward to.” He glanced at her sidelong, then turned his attention to his nicstick, working his thumbnail between the filter and the body and prying them apart. “I’ve read the previous offerings, in translation, of course. He does tend toward the carpet bomb approach when it comes to stating his case.”

  “He’s idomeni. Carpet bombing is standard operating procedure.” Jani tapped a beat atop the rail. “He will make his point, regardless of the cost to himself. Or anyone else.”

  “And you won’t?” Niall stared at the dismembered ’stick as though he’d never seen it before, then tossed it into the trash bin. “Parts of Chicago still bear the scorch marks, Jan. You’re as radical as he is.”

  “Would you believe I’m learning circumspection?”

  “Not without witnesses.”

  Jani grinned, but the expression soon faded. “We’re here on sufferance, we Thalassans. Beggars, being allowed a place to squat because we’re quiet and don’t bother anyone.” She motioned to Niall, then started walking across the terrace back to the house-lined street. “That can change so quickly, and then what?”

  “You’re worried that Stash Markos will kick you off Elyas. You?” Niall rose and fell in beside her. “He never struck me as the type to harbor a death wish. You’re talking nonsense, gel.” He glanced overhead and sighed. “I blame this damned sun.” He fell silent, fixed on the uphill climb. Then he drew a deep breath. “So, I expect that Markos and the others are coming here to consult with Tsecha about that bombing at the Haárin docks on Amsun.”

  Not up to your usual standard, Colonel. Jani struggled to keep her face blank. You’re usually so much more subtle when you pry. “Yes. They want to make sure the word gets out that they support the Amsun Haárin, and that they’ll not rest until they apprehend the parties responsible.” And there was her reply, just as stilted. But as good a tale as any, and even more so for being partly true.

  Niall studied her, the brim of his lid shading his eyes, hiding them from her gaze. Then he gripped her elbow and pulled her to a stop. “Whatever happens, whatever—” He looked up the street, now filled with hybrids working, talking, and lowered his voice to a rough whisper. “You’ll get some warning. I know people. I’ll get you out.”

  “What about John and the others?” Jani nodded toward the bustle. “I wouldn’t leave without them.” She watched Niall look up the street again. Saw his shoulders sag, and knew his thoughts as though he spoke them aloud. It’s a town now, Niall, with schools and shops, a Net station and a shuttleport. How do you evacuate it without anyone knowing? She resumed walking, then paused until Niall caught her up. “Mako still give you a hard time about hanging around with me?”

  Niall shook his head. “Not as much as he used to.”

  Meaning he’s happy to have a spy in the midst of this brew. Jani pressed a hand to the back of her neck and tried to massage away
the growing tightness. “Did you want to check out the meeting house again? Maybe the shards have stopped fly—”

  The siren cut the air like a scream, stopping everyone in mid-word, mid-stride. Blessed silence fell for an instant, then another howl. A youngster cried for her home-parent. A few hybrids headed for doorways.

  “Shuttle’s coming!” a male shouted as he started trotting up the street. “That’s the new signal.”

  Jani looked at Niall, to find that he had pulled his shooter, his knuckles blanched against tanned skin.

  “Jesus. Maybe you could tell your crew to lower the pitch a little.” He powered down the weapon and holstered it. “Damned thing sounds like a shatterbox just before it hits. Bloody banshee wail—”

  “I’ll tell them.” Jani pulled in a deep breath in a futile bid to slow her fluttering heart. “Looks like we have a visitor.” She started to walk, one slow step after another. Breathe. Breathe.

  “Wallach? His crew is scheduled to touch down at Karistos. That’s where my team is.” Niall quickened his pace and brushed past her, funneling his panic into motion and anger. “Flying fuck governors with their flying fuck timelines and their flying fuck—” He touched his ear, activating the com-link to whichever subordinate was unlucky enough to be first in the queue. “Beck! What the hell—”

  Jani held back until Niall had moved well out of earshot. Inhaled, and felt her heart trip, then slow. Continued to walk up the road, lined with low white houses…felt the sun…the heat…

  …the slip of sand beneath her boots…a sensation of sliding…

  …the hum of a shooter, the pound of her heart……the line of tents.

  She closed her eyes. Please, Lord. Not now, she prayed. Not now.

  CHAPTER 3

  By the time Jani reached the landing field, the rest of the enclave had already gathered along the runway. She scanned the crowd and spotted a cluster of medcoat-clad Thalassans crowded around a tall, slim figure, like children around a parent.

  John Shroud surveyed the scene like a landowner regarding his domain. He smiled when he spotted Jani, and freed himself from the confines of his laboratory tribe. As always, he wore formal clothes beneath his medcoat, a daysuit in palest grey undertoned with blue. His wheat-blond hair had been freshly clipped into a Caesar fringe, which framed and accentuated his monkish visage.

  Hello, Doctor. Jani held out her hand, felt her disquiet ease as John’s long, strong fingers encircled her own.

  “I just spoke with Niall. He’s trying to find out who it is.” John put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Governor Wallach’s shuttle just touched down at Karistos, so that’s off the list. No one’s requested permission to make an emergency landing.” He looked toward the runway and shrugged. “It’s a mystery.” He rested his chin atop her head. “Niall seemed a little shaken.”

  “It was the new approach alarm. It took us both by surprise.” Jani backed away so she could look John in the face. “Maybe they could ramp it down just a little bit.”

  “You’re the boss. Tell them. It will be done.” John shrugged lightly, a problem easily solved. Then he looked at her, and his gaze altered from affection to professional assessment. “Are you all right?” He moved back so he could see her face more easily. “Niall’s not the only one who looks like he’s seen a ghost.”

  “I’m fine.” Jani pressed her face against his medcoat, in part so she could take in his scent, but mostly to keep him from questioning her anymore. “There’s too much going on is all.”

  “That’s news.” John gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I wish Niall would get a move on. Some of us have work to do.”

  “I see it!” someone shouted. “They’re coming in over the bay!”

  Conversation ceased. Everyone turned toward the water just as a black dot broke through the clouds. It grew rapidly, wings becoming visible, sunlight flashing off the metalloceramic skin.

  Jani raised her head and squinted at the approaching shuttle. The underside looked dark, as though the craft had made a bad landing and scraped the hell out of the thermal coating. Then the mess of lines and shading resolved into an all too familiar pattern, two snakes twining around a winged staff. Her stomach tightened. “John? Is that what I think it is?”

  “It’s a caduceus.” John’s voice emerged a puzzled rumble. “What the…?”

  “It’s a Neoclona shuttle, Doctor.” Niall shouldered through the crowd to join them. “Expecting any visitors?”

  “No.” John released Jani and moved closer to the runway’s edge as the shuttle passed overhead, then banked for the last time and settled into its final approach, wings flexing and reshaping to compensate for the crosswinds. Then it touched down, dust billowing behind it like a windblown veil, its engines cut back to near silence.

  Jani moved in beside John. Took his hand in hers, and felt the barest hint of sweat on his palm.

  The shuttle slowed until it drew even with them. As soon as it stopped, the door to the passenger cabin swept upward while the exit stairway emerged and unfolded to the ground.

  Valentin Parini stepped up to the threshold before the stairway extended completely. He wore a daysuit in somber greyed green, the severe lines disturbed by the briefbag that hung from one shoulder.

  John shook loose Jani’s hand, then straightened the already flawless lines of his medcoat.

  “I thought he was never supposed to embark on a long haul unless he told you?” Jani watched Val as he let his foot dangle over the first step, waiting for the stairway to stabilize.

  “He’s not.” John’s voice sounded like the rumble from the depths of a cave. “It was an agreement he, Eamon, and I made at the beginning, that we would each know where the others were at all times.”

  “Eamon broke that rule.” Jani waited for an answer, and looked over at John to find him watching Val with narrowed eyes.

  “Val and I never did.” He fell silent, his face a professional mask.

  Val collected himself as he started down the stair, disdaining the handholds that ran along both sides. As soon as he hit the ground, he hit his stride, a saunter that had over the years made fists itch and teeth grind from one end of the Commonwealth to the other.

  John waited until Val had crossed the invisible halfway point before walking out to meet him. His step was weightier, but just as fluid, with the deceptive quickness of molten metal flow.

  Then came the hitch in Val’s step, the slowdown as he drew nearer to John. When no more than a couple of meters separated them, he stopped, the shock that filled his eyes at war with the unperturbed attitude he struggled to convey. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing at Jani without seeing her before returning to John.

  It’s the first time he’s seen John in person since he hybridized. Jani looked at her lover and tried to see him as his best friend did, comparing the albino presence that Val had known so well with the pale blond, gold-skinned figure that stood before him now. And let’s not forget the eyes. The same silvered blue as John’s daysuit, as glittery as jewels when he smiled.

  Val fought to appear detached, but his face kept betraying him, dismay and shock and affection jockeying for the lead, with professional curiosity bringing up the rear. His jaw slackened as his eyes widened, the only sound emerging from his mouth a strangled, “I—”

  John smiled, stopping just short of a full-blown idomeni teeth-baring. “It really is me, Val.”

  “Your voice hasn’t changed. It still”—Val gestured at waist height—“sounds like it’s coming up through the ground.” His pronounced widow’s peak and arched brows giving his high-boned face a catlike cast. “The Mistys you sent didn’t do the transformation justice. My God.” He held out his hand. John took it, and they shook. Then the grins broke through and John pulled Val close.

  “Any idea what he’s doing here?” Niall muttered.

  “None.” Jani watched man and male hug, Val thumping John’s shoulder while John mumbled something that made
them both laugh. “I’d like to believe that it’s purely a social call, but somehow I doubt it.”

  Val broke away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Then he turned to Jani. “You, my pensive beauty. My one and only girl.” He moved in and embraced her, wrapping her in an odd combination of herbal cologne and the ozone sharpness of freshly cleaned cloth. After a moment, he released her and stepped back, lips twitching as though he wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the words. His eyes were bloodshot, their deep hazel dulled by spent nerve. He raked a hand through his ash-brown hair, disturbing its structured style and looking even more as though he’d just awakened from restless sleep.

  Jani struggled with her own conflicting emotions, relishing the sight of her old friend while at the same time wondering why he’d come. “You look tired.”

  Val shrugged. “Long hauls always wear me down. If the cabin fever doesn’t get you, the monotony will.” He started to say more, then stopped and hung his head. “There’s something else—something I—oh, hell.” He turned back to the shuttle, one hand pressed to his forehead as though a headache had come to call.

  Jani followed his pained gaze, and saw that the passenger cabin door still gaped open, as though someone else still needed to disembark. Then the name formed in her mind just as the all-too-familiar figure stepped into the doorway, white-blond Service burr shining in the sun.

  “What in bloody hell…?” Niall’s hand went to his sidearm.

  Captain Lucien Pascal paused at the top of the stair, looking first toward the bay and the cliffs beyond, then scanning the crowd. He wore desertweights, the sand-toned short-sleeve shirt highlighting his pale hair and tanned skin. As soon as he spotted Jani, he pulled his garrison cap out of his waistband and set it atop his head, then started down the stairs at an easy lope.