Contact Imminent (37 page)

Jani raised her shaky left hand. “The pink blitzed my animandroid limbs—”

“
Before that
.” Niall reached down and detached the armor plate that covered her left forearm, then examined her wound. “I order you back to the challenge room, look around two seconds later and find you gone.”

Jani jerked her chin toward the place where two physician-priests administered to Pashé's corpse. “She was on our team. When you ordered us to pull back, she didn't want to go. She didn't want anything to do with humanish.”

“So you went after her?” Niall dragged off his helmet, revealing sweat-flattened hair and a reddened groove across his forehead where the stabilizer band had rested. “You want to play on my team, you follow my rules. Stick that in your documents case for future reference.” He straightened, then turned back to Pull. “Get him out of here,” he said, pointing at Faber.

Pullman took Faber by the elbow and steered him toward the entry, only to stop as they reached the door. “Sir.”

Jani looked up in time to see Lucien walk in. He still wore the slashed and bloody casuals from his challenge, to which he'd added a stripped-down assortment of body armor and a packed weapons holster. He looked around the room, gaze
fixing first on the two teams of medics before coming to rest on Jani. “You're hurt?”

Jani shook her head. “The pink took out my left side.”

Niall grimaced. “I told you to report to Medical, Pascal.”

“I'm afraid you were superceded, sir.” Lucien approached Faber, a change coming over him as he drew close to the young man. His voice lightened. He even managed a smile. “Good morning, Lance Corporal.”

“Good morning, sir.” Faber drew up straight, his shoulders working as though he tried to salute. “You were right. You said they didn't show us how to get out. You were right.” He fell silent. “You said—” His expression lightened again. It did so only when he spoke, fading to blankness as he quieted. “You said that anytime I wanted to talk, I'd be able to find you.”

Lucien moved in front of him. Someone had wrapped his
à lérine
wounds in light gauze through which the blood had managed to seep. “Yes, Faber. You are correct.”

“You're not—” Faber hesitated. “You're not the Jesus Sergeant Chrivet told us about.”

Niall emitted a harsh laugh. “Not even close, boyo.”

Faber looked down at the floor. “Maybe…” This time when he spoke, his face remained blank. “Maybe you're the only one I get.”

Lucien looked to Niall—the two men fought a stare-down until Niall gave in with a grumble and a sharp nod. Lucien motioned for Pullman to back away, then took his place at Faber's side. “Let's go, Micah. Anything you want to talk about, I'm ready to listen.” He ushered the young man into the hallway, Pullman bringing up the rear. Then the medics departed, gurneys in tow—first the humanish, then the Vynshàrau, leaving Jani and Niall alone.

“Let's get you out of here.” Niall dragged a gurney over to Jani, shaking his head as he stepped into a wet patch of carrier. “Now I know for a fact that both John and Val have been after you for months to trade in those half-mechanical limbs of yours for full-tissue replacements, but you always put
them off.” He glared down at her. “This is what you get for sticking with outdated technology.”

Jani felt the anger rise, then bit back her retort when she caught the light flash in Niall's eyes. She smiled—he grinned back. Then the laughter took them both, and wouldn't let go.

“
Niall
.” Jani finally gasped, her stomach aching. “They're going to come in here and see the blood and us laughing and lock us both up.”

Niall wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “They tried that. More than once. Never worked, did it? Never did, and never will.” He straightened slowly. “We're immune in that regard.”

Jani held her good hand out to him. “Please get me out of here.”

“As my Captain wishes.” Niall bent to her, positioning himself so she could drape her right arm around his neck for balance, and lifted her up.

“Bird bones.” He lay her atop the gurney like and infant, then escorted her out of the room.

Jani sat silent as Niall drove them past the shattered midsection of the embassy. He'd seconded a wheeled scoot from one of the damage survey teams, but could only approach within a few meters before the shrub-strewn rubble that had been the walled garden made further exploration impossible.

“They came in off the lake, sheathed to the gills thanks to the latest masking technology, and punched through here.” He pointed to the gaping hole where there'd once been a set of triple-width doors. “Exterior scan picked up something big coursing over the water's surface, but before they could analyze the image, it vanished. They chalked it up to an artifact. Morons.” He shook his head, then glanced at Jani. “You feeling better?”

“Fine.” She forced a smile.

“Fine.” Niall reversed the scoot, jerking it into a tight turn. They rumbled over the churned-up lawns and past the smoking outbuildings into the stretch of wilderness that marked the boundary between the idomeni and Exterior lands.

As soon as they passed through the eyescan and were cleared to cross the border into humanish territory, Niall reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his nicstick case. He shook out a 'stick and with careful one-handed maneu
vering bit the bulbed ignition tip, then turned it around, leaning forward so he could put it in his mouth.

He steered across the Exterior lawns and rimmed the edge of the main charge-lot, on the lookout for an empty space amid the triple-lengths of a dozen ministries. “They're all inside,” he said. “Cao, every other minister on the block, Shai, Mako.”

“Tsecha?” Jani had been on the lookout for her old teacher since Niall floated her out of the blasted office, but she hadn't seen him anywhere.

“They dragged him over first of all,” Niall said through a haze of smoke. “Some of the ministers would still rather deal with him than Shai, especially under the circumstances, and don't think that didn't go over like a lead balloon.”

They trundled around the ministry building to the lakeside enclosed terrace, which, judging from the various medblanket-covered shapes that filled the area, had been designated the temporary morgue. As they drew close, Jani caught sight of Val sitting on the terrace outer railing, head hanging, hands braced in his knees. He glanced up when he heard their approach, but he didn't smile.

“Doctor Parini.” Niall braked to a stop. “So far…?”

“Forty-four dead. Ten Vynshàrau, the rest humanish.” Val jerked his chin toward Niall's nicstick. “Can you spare one of those?” Niall tossed him the case; he shook out a stick and ignited it, then drew on it as though it was his last breath.

Jani watched her friend raise the 'stick to his lips. Did his hand shake or was it simply a trick of the breeze? “When was the last time you smoked?”

“The last time I saw something like this.” Val glanced at Niall. “Inform your weapons designers, Colonel, that the V-790 leaves something to be desired. After we cracked the third charred corpse out of the remains of their smoking exo, we christened it the ‘Lobster.'” He took another drag. “I'll be fine, it's just been a while is all.” He looked at Jani again, and something of the old kindness returned to his face. “How are you?”

“The new-gen pink took out my left side.” Jani raised her shaking left hand. “Walking is quite the adventure.”

“New limbs coming up. As soon as I see whether they need me anymore here.” Val stood. “Vehicles…?”

“You can't get into the embassy lot.” Niall struggled out of the scoot's tight cabin. “Stake out a spot here, and I'll find you something.”

As he strode off, Val walked to the scoot and inserted himself as replacement driver. “I never imagined this.” He took a last pull on the 'stick, then tossed it. “Not in a hundred years could I have.”

“Not even after that last night in Rauta Shèràa?” Jani watched two orderlies bear another blanketed form onto the terrace. “The Night of the Blade?” She studied her hands, then flexed her fingers, the steady and the trembling. She looked toward the lake and imagined a line of exo-clad forms coursing toward her over the chop, a pale, pointed face among them. Walking. Walking.

 

Jani and Val arrived at Neoclona Chicago to find the level of tension ramped to warning levels. Jani sensed the looks that followed her as they navigated the hospital halls. Some held curiosity, others concern. But there were enough hostile glares scattered about to drive the two of them to use the stairs instead of lifts when possible, and to avoid telling anyone where they went. They arrived at Orthopedics to find a pair of doctors standing by. Val dismissed them and switched out Jani's animandroid limbs himself, running through the post-installation examination in record time. They then departed the hospital by a different, circuitous route.

“Think the lid will stay on for a week?” Val steered his Service loaner out of the underground garage and blended into the evening traffic.

“I think I'm glad my parents aren't here to see this.” Jani saw a group of people standing around a storefront, watching a holo Vee display. As the skimmer passed, she could see
what they watched—the sweep of the embassy grounds, the shattered main building, the gurneys laden with blanketed mounds that it seemed couldn't possibly be entire bodies but were.

“The idomeni are going to leave.” Val edged around a disabled skimmer and drove on. “My prediction. Their embassy is a shambles—they can't stay there. The Haárin are no longer safe at the enclave. Cèel wants them back in the worldskein, so back in the worldskein they will go.”

“Except for Tsecha,” Jani said, “And the other Haárin. They're going to Elyas.”

“How the hell are you going to swing that?” Val slowed as they approached his apartment building, then floated down the ramp to the parking garage. “I remember Cèel—I dealt with him often enough. He was bad enough when he was younger, and by all accounts he's gotten worse.” As he approached his private bay, he stiffened, then struck the steering mech with the flat of his hand. “I'll be—”

Jani followed his gaze and felt her own flavor of wonderment when she saw Lucien sitting atop a skimmer charge station console, his duffel on the floor beside him. “I've been ordered to remain under medical supervision, so I thought…?” He tried to shrug, but injury forced him to settle for a borderline flinch. “I'll leave, if you want me to.”

Jani felt Val's stare, willing her to look in his direction. “Of course you can stay.” She heard him sigh, and pretended she didn't.

 

“Sheridan's a war zone.” Lucien broke eggs into a bowl, then whisked in various spices. “I had to get the hell out. Medical put me on two weeks' leave, so I thought, why not decamp to someplace sane?”

Val sat up and craned his neck as he tried to see what Lucien mixed. “Omelets again?”

“Crepes.” Lucien smiled. “There are plenty of fillers in your cooler—fresh fruit, whipping cream, mushrooms. Your kitchen's much better stocked than Jani's.”

“You're too cruel.” Jani took a lemon slice from a garni plate and bit one end. “You mentioned a war zone?”

Lucien nodded as he ladled batter onto a flat pan. “The wafer Veles lifted from Micah Faber contained a lot more than the training scenarios. There was some background coding that revealed where some of the scenarios were constructed. The first round of arrests took place about three hours ago.”

What timing
. Jani chewed the lemon slice to the rind. “What happened to Veles?”

Lucien hesitated. “He's dead. They found his body in the garage of Faber's building. A professional kill—Faber wasn't capable. Someone simply wanted to make sure that he got to his outfit.”

Val sat back and crossed his arms. “Now, I'm no expert in these sorts of assaults—I've only lived through a few. But the question that occurs is, why? I'm trying to follow all the convolutions, and I just don't get it.”

Jani cradled her chin in her hand and regarded him solemnly. “I'm more cynical than you are—correct?” She waited until he shrugged agreement. “Assume the Service wants the idomeni out, even the factions that claim to want to get along. Now look at what happened today.” She held up her hand, index finger extended, and earned a matching response from Val. “One, the idomeni will be off Earth within the month, at the latest.” Second finger. “Two, the Service learned more about Vynshàrau weapons systems and building defenses in the space of a couple of hours than they could have in months or years of hunt and peck spying.” She glanced at Lucien, who had the sense to keep his eyes on his crepe pan, then extended her ring finger. “Three, they've tested a prototype exo in the field against the enemy that they designed it for, and found it wanting. Is that enough, or do you need more?”

Val exhaled with a shudder. “Quite a few people died, some horribly.”

Jani studied the plate of mushroom crepes Lucien set be
fore her, and reached for the spice dispenser. “Quite a few of them hated beings like me. They would have to a person cheerfully cut my throat given half a chance.” Food aromas filled her nose—she swallowed hard as her throat tightened. “Any man's death diminishes me…but be that as it may.”

“Micah Faber didn't hurt you.” Lucien reached across the table to set out Val's plate—the long sleeve of his pullover rode up his arm, revealing a fresh gauze dressing. “He had more than half a chance, too.”

“I think he hated Chrivet more than he hated me. She lied to him.” Jani picked up a knife to slice her crepes, then set it down with a clatter as the room light flashed off the glinting point. “Where is he now?”

“Neuro Isolation.” Lucien sat down at the table. Up close, the strain of the day showed in his drawn face and ashen skin. “Under guard. He's the only survivor who could do some talking anytime soon.”

Jani tried to pick up the knife again, then set it aside for good and settled for slicing her food with the side of her fork. “What are they worried about more, suicide or murder?”

Before Lucien could respond, the kitchen door swung aside. One of Val's admins entered carrying a documents pouch in Neoclona's trademark purple. Val took the packet with a shaky hand, taking a deep breath before opening the flap. “Misty.” He pulled a small wafer folder out of the bag. “From John.” He flipped open the cover and removed the silvery disc. “Clean up first. I'll be waiting in the view room.

 

Jani showered and dressed in some of Val's castoffs, a sweater and pull-on trousers in his favorite dark green. She met Lucien by the kitchen, and together they adjourned to Val's viewing room, a plush alcove furnished with lounge seats and a portable bar. Jani sat next to Val, while Lucien hedged his bets by choosing a seat in the row behind theirs that was staggered directly between them. Val, she noted, had availed himself of the bar's contents—a half-filled tumbler of something clear and frosty sat at his elbow.

“And so we begin.” Val raised his glass to the display, then fingered the control pad set in his chair arm.

The room darkened, the display lightening in turn. The Neoclona
N
unfurled across the panel, followed by a security warning. Then an emptiness, followed by a face.

“John.”
Val sank back in his seat. “Oh God.”

Lucien just stared.

Jani felt her heart catch, and smiled.

John sat at a desk, most likely his office at Neoclona Karistos, judging from the security flags that continued to scroll along the bottom of the display. He'd forsaken medwhites for a dark blue shirt, to which he'd added a gold and blue length of cloth looped and draped like a scarf.

Almost two months had passed since he'd begun the hybridization process. His skin, once milk tinged with blue, had darkened to the cream-gold of the palest Oà. His eyes, once pink, had changed to dull silver centered with clear grey.

“Hello, Val. I'm guessing words are a waste at this point, aren't they?” His voice rumbled as ever, changes in inflection and phrasing not yet apparent. “Before you fall on anyone here, the first they knew of it was when I walked through the entry ten minutes ago. They seemed…shocked, but not altogether surprised. This is Karistos, after all. They look at things differently here.”

Jani savored the sight and sound of him, and wondered at the touch. His hair was now the same palest wheat shade as his skin. Did it still feel like silk? Would she have been able to feel it at all, considering that he had cut it into a Service burr so sheared as to make Niall's short back and sides appear mussed?

“I know.” John passed a hand over his scalp, as if he had predicted her response. “Too damned short, and I'm too tall for it. So help me, from a distance, I look like a pin. But when it started growing out…the half-white just looked too strange. So I let Brondt go at it with the clippers. I told him this wasn't the second day of Boot Camp, but as soon as
the first few hairs hit the floor, he became a man possessed. Or should I say ‘hybrid possessed'?” He tilted his head to the side. “Brondt. Right. You don't know who he is.” His eyes softened, from metal to the underside of a cloud. “Is Jani there? She can explain it to you. The short form is that he's her suborn. He's managing the place while she's away.” A smile teased a corner of his mouth, brightened his argent eyes. “I'm the staff physician of the Thalassan enclave. Physician-priest, really—I've been undergoing some training. It's a new universe, Val. A life so different I could never have imagined it. Part of me thinks I should have taken the plunge years ago. But then again, perhaps it was better that I waited until now.”

Jani glanced to the side to find that Val had drained his glass and now stared at the display over the rim.

“I'll be staying here. For a while, at any rate.” John continued to talk easily, as though he sat across the desk from them instead of five GateWays distant. “I've gone over matters with our legal team here—they're sending the usual stuff and nonsense your way. I've also sent along another Misty that's more official. I'm afraid you're stuck on Earth as long as both Eamon and I remain here. Eamon would like to flee immediately, frankly, but he's too afraid of you to risk returning to Chicago even though he misses the place. He's still in, by the way. I've explained it in the other Misty.” He rested his elbow atop the desk and propped his chin atop his fist. “I don't miss Earth at all—isn't that odd? I thought Seattle might be calling my name by now, but I haven't heard a thing. Not even a whisper.” He looked into the display. “I miss you, though, old friend. The decent thing would have been to tell you in person, but I couldn't leave, and…I thought if you saw me before I was too far along, you might try to talk me out of it.” He hung his head. “Perhaps that was a mistake.”