Contact Imminent (5 page)

“While I couldn't think of a better target for your wrath than Captain Pascal, I can imagine times when it would be better for you to keep your mouth shut.” John examined the stylus readout and frowned at Val. “Blood readings are normal, relatively speaking.” He tucked the stylus into his trouser pocket. “Tact and diplomacy were never your strong suits, and now that idomeni mood swings have apparently entered the picture, it's only going to go downhill from here.”

“Tsecha's idomeni, and he manages all right,” Jani muttered.

“No, he doesn't—” John and Val replied as one. Then all three of them grinned.

Val walked to the table, lightbox in hand. “A full Neuro workup would be a good idea.” He slipped the device into a padded sack, then zipped the sack closed and tucked it into one of the bags. “If we determine where the changes have occurred and to what extent, we could design an augmentation to act as a moderator.”

“We don't have time.” John drew up next to the counter and leaned against it, a move that brought him closer to Jani. “I could start the preliminary work on the ship if I took one of our neurologists along.”

Jani shook her head. “Drag someone away from home for three months or more on a day's notice? Not on my account, please.”

“It's an unwritten part of the job description,” Val said as he slung one of the bags over his shoulder. “Neoclona offers classes. If you can't learn to pack for a twelve-week long haul in ten minutes flat, we kick you out to live amongst the heathen.” He hefted the other bag and trudged to the door. “If you pass the test, the Commonwealth is yours to command.”

“Ten minutes? Why not make it a month?” Jani called after him. “I can do it in less than five.”

“Unfair.” The sound of Val's steps receded down the hall. “Too much practice!” A muffled curse drifted back as he pushed through the rear door, followed by silence.

Jani stared down at her socks for a time, then looked up to find John regarding her with an odd mix of amusement and concern that it seemed he reserved lately for her and her alone. “Would a new augmentation help smooth out the mood swings?”

“Possibly.” He boosted atop the counter next to her. “The problem is that it would need to function all the time, as opposed to your Service augmentation, which only has to operate at times of extreme duress. You'd experience many of the same issues—misfirings, over-and undercontrol, the risk of chronic bioemotional disorders, which may turn up that much more quickly because of the increased exposure to modified neurotransmitters. Then there's the fact that you possess the only hybrid brain in the Commonwealth. Even with advanced modeling, it would all be guesswork on the part of my Neuro group until we learned more about how your brain functions, and I'm really not anxious to see you become a test subject for every tweak and nudge that comes down the pike.”

Jani thought back to the hybrid boy's image. A smile and long, thin hands like hers. “What if I'm not anymore? The only hybrid brain in the Commonwealth.”

John smoothed a hand over the front of his jacket, then started fiddling with one of the fasteners. As usual, tension made him fidgety. “Like Val said, holo images can be very readily faked. I'm more concerned with who it is who's try
ing to attract our attention. And why.” He forced a smile. The harsh kitchen lighting accentuated every line on his so-pale face. “I'll let you worry about whether it has anything to do with your little matter.”

“I wish it was a little matter.” Jani rubbed her stomach, where Lucien's omelet weighed heavily amid the growing churn. “A little matter at this stage in the game would be a positive delight.” She held out her hand to John. “Are you still carrying that shooter?”

John's brow arched. Then he reached into his inside jacket pocket and removed a burnished C-curve of dull silver.

Now it was Jani's turn to act surprised. “Fancy.” She took the graceful weapon from him and examined it, conscious at every level of the residual warmth the metal held. “A Beecham-Grenoble S-40. Strong enough power source to kick it up into the medium-range class. How long have you been taking shooting lessons?”

“About two months. A club I belong to has a range. One of our new staff members in Orthopedics is ex-Service.” John looked down at the floor. “She's been showing me the ins and outs.”

Has she?
Jani's heart skipped, but not because of a flood of idomeni anger. No, this was more a humanish brand of emotion, unreasonable though it was.
He has every right—I showed up here with Lucien, and he knows we didn't spend the night sitting around talking
. “Just remember that if anyone who knows weapons sees this, they're going to assume you know what you're doing and react accordingly.” She handed the shooter back to him, taking care not to touch his hand.

“Funny. Marya said the same thing.” John's lips curved, an almost-smile that contained enough self-satisfaction to inspire violence.

I won't push him off the counter
. What she wanted to do, against all reason, was push her hands through that silky mass of hair and pull him to her, shatter twenty years' separation with a single kiss. Wipe away the smile inspired by
another woman and replace it with one inspired by her.
I love you, John Shroud.
She'd admitted the fact long ago, to him as well as to herself, and knew he felt the same.
But it would never work.
No matter how they tried, it always came down to her independence versus his desire to protect her.
There's nothing left to talk about. Nothing left to feel jealous over.
Yet jealous she was, painfully so. That meant it was time to change the subject. Time to stick to business. “Lucien was right, you know. Any ministry guard worth a damn would have dropped you before you'd sighted down.”

John's smile died. “I still believe he exaggerated.”

Jani shook her head. “Tensions are mounting. The bornsect Vynshàrau think they're losing their souls and their Haárin. The Families know they're losing money and their grip on the Commonwealth frontier. Everyone's trying to figure out a way to keep what they have, and that ozonelike odor you smell is the short, sharp scent of panic in the wind.”

John sighed as he slipped the Beecham back inside his jacket pocket. “That misplaced mine didn't help, I'm sure.”

“No, it didn't help one bit.” Jani slid off the counter and walked to the table. Val had stacked the dirty plates and cutlery to one side in order to deposit his and John's medical gear. She picked them up and carried them to the cleaner. “I need to take a trip back across the lake. Break the news to Tsecha about the ship, find out what transpired at the enclave after I left.” She inserted all the tableware into the appropriate slots and holders. “I thought I'd try to catch some sleep first.”

“Are you going to tell him about our possible hybrid?” John pushed off the counter, then paused to fuss with his jacket.

Jani closed the cleaner, then activated it. “I have to, especially if it's possible that it may be entangled with Feyó's problem.”

“How do you think he'll take it?”

“It's what he prophesied. What he prayed for all these
years.” Jani yanked a dispo towel from a countertop dispenser and wiped her hands. “On the other hand, considering the current climate, he may wish our young friend had chosen a less tangled time to make his appearance.” She crumpled the dispo and tossed it into the trash, followed the flash and the puff of smoke that signaled its demise, then walked with John into the hall.

“I don't know if I'll see you before we leave.” He seemed subdued, as though the import of their upcoming journey had just struck home. “Seventeen-up is the usual departure time for an afternoon trip. I'll send a skimmer for you at about sixteen.”

“All right.” Jani felt his presence beside her, and tried not to think about it. “I should have called. I'm sorry.”

John grinned weakly. “You have this knack for putting yourself in the middle of things. When I heard that a mine had exploded at the enclave, I thought the worst.”

Jani touched John's arm, pulling away just as a look of surprise crossed his face. “I was in a bunker, 200 meters away, with Niall, Tsecha, and a comtech who didn't like me very much.”

“More fool him.” John hesitated at the door, as though he wanted to say more. Then he saw Val lower the skimmer boot lid and circle around to the driver's side. “Tomorrow,” he said, his businesslike demeanor returned.

Jani took John's coat from the rack and handed it to him, feeling its softness long after she released it. “Tomorrow.” She saw him out, watched him get into the skimmer, then watched the vehicle float out of sight.

She then returned to the library to find Lucien standing at the bar sink cleaning the glasses. He looked up when she entered, then quickly away. Jani walked to the couch and lowered onto it, yawning as the cushions swallowed her up. The remains of her augmentation, her idomeni nature, both had retreated, leaving her drained. She hoisted her legs aboard, lay back, and contemplated the square of blue sky visible through the skylight.

“You embarrassed me.”

Jani lifted her head. Lucien had finished with the glasses and now wandered the room, straightening and adjusting.
When he's on edge, he needs to move. Just like John. Just like me. We're none of us comfortable enough in our skins to stay in one place
. “It's going to happen more and more often. My brain is changing. My bioemotional balances.” She tried to inject some levity into her voice. “If you think you're getting the raw end, look at me. I'm going to wind up even more popular than I am now.” Lucien ignored her as he continued his housekeeping promenade, and she decided that in this particular instance, surrender was the better part of valor. “I'm sorry.” She tried to think of a bright side. “If it's any consolation, Val had you figured out before I opened my mouth. He doesn't fool easily.”

“That's all right. I love a challenge.” Lucien gave a chair one last shove-into-place. “I need to get back to Sheridan.” He headed for the door, but at the last moment he slowed, then turned and approached the couch. “You want him to be real, don't you?” Sunshine streamed through the skylight, lightening his hair until it looked as white as John's. “The hybrid boy. You want him to be real and you're afraid that he's not.”

Jani opened her mouth to protest, but no words emerged. As usual, Lucien got right to the heart of the matter, then grabbed and twisted. “It's a mistake to get one's hopes up,” she said after a time. “I learned that the hard way.”

“If it's any consolation, two hybrids would upset people twice as much as one.” Lucien drew alongside the couch, then leaned over. “Even more than that, considering that one is you.” He kissed her, softly at first, then not softly at all, leaving her breathless as he slipped away without another word.

“Au revoir, mon capitain.”
Jani regarded the closed door as the minutes passed, and gradually another sensation took hold. Less painful than love, less urgent than lust, yet in its own way as implacable, as undeniable.

She held up her hand, imagined the hybrid boy's still hanging in the air before her. Saw them meet, felt warm flesh instead of cool light. Pressed hard, palm against palm, finger against finger, each matching as though they mirrored one another.

“I always wondered what it would have been like to have a brother.” She lay there, holding her hand in place until sleep claimed her.

A muddle of images. Wode's face as he turned to the sound of Pullman's shout, melting into that of Feres, the dead Vynshàrau.

A sound. A name. Her name.

Jani.

Feres's face shortening. Widening. The eyes altering from gold to green, sclera paling, whitening, changing—

Jani?

—to a face she knew well though she'd seen it only once. A young face with filmed eyes, humanish films that covered, but not well enough—

“Jani.”

Jani opened her eyes.

“Jesus, gel.” Niall Pierce released a shaky sigh. “You weren't waking up and you weren't waking up. I thought I'd have to call Shroud.” He sat on the edge of the low table, one hand braced on the couch cushion near Jani's head. “I've been jawing at you for five minutes—didn't you hear me?”

“I fell—” Jani stared above her head at the view through the skylight, and saw only dark slate grey where there'd once been sunlit blue. “Oh, damn.”

“Oh damn is right.” Niall sat back, his expression lighten
ing as he realized she was conscious and aware of her surroundings. “It's a little after nineteen. You slept most of the day away.” He offered a fangy grin. “Join the club. I called Pull's folks from the doctors' lounge, then sat back to take a breather. Too many hours later…” He shook his head. “One of the neuros ordered them to let me sleep. Damned augie. After I woke up, I shambled to the office. Far North Lakeside was a beehive, of course. Sat through nine meetings in as many hours, then decided the hell with it and bolted.”

Jani tossed back her coat, which had served as a coverlet, and slowly sat up. “How's Pull?”

“Awake, but bleary.” Niall reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his nicstick case. “Doesn't remember the blast, which is a good thing, if you ask me.”

Jani motioned for Niall to move down the table so she could swing her legs off the couch. “And the meetings?”

“The usual. How, what, when, why, and who can we throw to the dogs?” He pulled a 'stick from the case and crunched down on the tip with intent. “Everyone's poring over field exercise notes going back six years. Pulling in everyone from Spacers First Class to Ordnance chiefs, questioning them on every move they made during this or that night maneuver a year or more ago. If Service Investigative thinks people are hiding things, they're going to break out the truth sera, and won't that be fun for all concerned.” He slumped, the smoke curling around his head like a free-form halo. “Mako's still with the PM. Couple of loons burned an idomeni in effigy on the grounds of the Exterior Ministry, which was as close as they could bloody get to the embassy, thank God. Shai's in special session with the Oligarch, or in as much of a special session as she can be via Misty communications. Could be the end of the month before they get all that back and forth sorted out.”

Jani tried to imagine Morden nìRau Cèel's response when the news of the mine reached him.
Will you think past the end of your nose for once in your life, you chill bastard, or
will you thank the gods for giving you the excuse you need to close the enclave?
“Any word from Tsecha?”

“He gave a short interview on CapNet this morning. Spoke English, and looked right into the cam. Sincere regrets for all lives lost. Said the word ‘accident' three times that I counted. Wily old bird, trying to calm the whitecaps. Hope someone listens.” Niall stood up and walked to the bar. “You still leaving tomorrow on your gift-giving excursion to Elyas?”

Jani watched Niall pour himself a drink. Scotch and soda, his usual. He'd switched out of his soiled fatigues for civvies, tan trousers, and a cream pullover that seemed too casual a choice for the man who wore them.
Niall doesn't relax well
. At the moment, he didn't appear relaxed at all. “Yes, I'm still leaving tomorrow.”

Niall turned to face her, glass in hand. “I stopped by the kitchen on the way down the hall, thinking you might be in there. Quite a few plates stacked in the cleaner.” He didn't look at Jani but at some spot above her head.

“You had to open the cleaner to find that out. Did you think I was hiding inside?” When Niall didn't reply, Jani sat up a little straighter. She'd been questioned in this same offhand manner countless times in her past. The best response was, of course, to tell the truth. At least regarding the facts that could be checked. “I went to see Lucien after I left you. He brought me back here. We found John and Val waiting for me. Service Medical borrowed some equipment from Neoclona, and they found out what happened. They came by to see if I was all right. We all came inside. Lucien made breakfast.”

“John and Pretty Boy in the same room. That must have made for some fun.” Niall set aside his drink, then wandered to Jani's desk and riffled through a stack of old newssheets. “That's the whole story?”

“Are you asking as my friend, Niall, or as Colonel Niall Pierce, Special Services, hatchet man-in-waiting to Admiral-General Hiroshi Mako?”

“Would the answer be different, depending?”

“You didn't think I was home. You thought I was at the enclave. You came here to search the place.”

“Better me than anyone else.” Niall circled around to the opposite arm of the couch and sat down across from Jani. “Two hours ago a Neoclona shuttle filed an O'Hare-Luna flight plan. Luna Station reported soon after that a Neoclona cruiser submitted GateWay requests from Mars through to Amsun. Elyas is a four day skip from there. John Shroud's going to take you to deliver your gift himself, isn't he?”

Jani shrugged. “He's rich. He can afford to be generous.”

“Jani.” Niall sat back and thumped his head against the couch cushions. “You can't shove things down people's throats. Tsecha tried that with his predictions of hybrids and a blending of the human and idomeni races, and where did that get him? He lost his position as religious leader of the ruling bornsect, along with all the power that went with it. The soapbox. The ability to persuade, to change from within. And oh, he's such a charismatic bastard—he could have charmed the birds from the trees, but he blew it.” He took a last pull on his 'stick, then pondered the spent cylinder. “And then there's you, taking up where he left off. There's no one I'd rather have at my back with a loaded shooter, but so help me, if there's one person I wouldn't want arguing for my life before a judge and jury, it's you, with your ‘my way or go to hell' approach to everything.”

“I recall telling you once that I was not political.” Jani concentrated on picking through the past, on uncovering the evidence to counter Niall's assertions. On countering the words themselves, without stopping to consider their meaning. “I recall you replying that politics had gotten us into the messes we were in, that the city needed someone with my point of view.”

“I have been known to make mistakes.” Niall hung his head. “You strong-armed Chicago into opening the doors for an Haárin enclave before they were ready to accept Haárin in their midst. We're paying the price for that now.”

“Enclaves have existed in the colonies for close to half a century. Chicago is a tad behind the curve.”

“It's the Commonwealth capital. The heart of humanity. It already had an embassy, just like we have our embassy in Rauta Shèràa. It didn't need anything else until it was prepared to accept it. It's a bigger step to take
here
.” Niall snapped the 'stick in two and tossed it into a dish set out for the purpose. “It feels threatened. It's overreacting, falling on any hint of trouble and magnifying it a hundredfold.”

Jani imagined Niall's speech in a voice other than his Victorian twang. A guttural baritone, Earthbound in accent, educated without sounding cultured. “Thank you, Colonel, for delineating the Admiral-General's point of view so well.”

“It's mine also. To an extent.” Niall rubbed his eyes. His skin appeared dull and sagged, as though he hadn't slept at all. “I'm a human being, Jan. This is my Service. This is my world.”

“I am not a human being.” Jani looked down at her hands, the hands that had matched so well those of a boy who odds were didn't exist. “Do you understand that now?”

Niall sniffed, kept his gaze fixed on the floor. “You're—” He took a deep breath and tried again. “You're leaving tomorrow at seventeen-up.”

You ought to know
. Jani bit back the words. She didn't want her farewell to Niall to consist of a fight. “Yes.”

“You need to see Tsecha.” Niall stood, worked his shoulders. “I'll take you.”

Jani watched him move, his actions controlled and cadenced.
He's conserving his ammo
. Warming up, but not too much. Expending just enough energy to get him where he needed to go.
Oh, Niall. You still have another shoe to drop, don't you, me lad?
She rose, gathered her coat, and started for the door, then waited for him to join her.

 

The ride over the lake to the enclave proved more pleasant than Jani expected. Niall stuck to opera, ballet, and general Sheridan gossip. For her part, Jani talked about her parents
and her youth on the colony of Acadia, since Niall had been orphaned at an early age and often hinted that he liked hearing tales of family life.

“They've gone back, your folks. To Acadia.” Niall swore under his breath as lake chop struck the underside of the skimmer, sending a shudder through the cabin. “I thought things weren't safe there.”

“They've improved. The PM installed a new governor, who happens to be someone the Acadians actually like. A few heads rolled in the Legislature. A few undesirables left in their socks.” Jani looked out the window to the moon-dappled swell that stretched to blackness beyond. “Papa never admitted it, but he always felt that coming to Chicago was tantamount to running away. Maman didn't want to admit it, but she was homesick. When Oncle Shamus sent up the distress flare late last year that his resort business had grown too big for him to handle alone, I knew it was only a matter of time.” She thought back to the day they came to break the news to her, their eyes alight. “Maman knows twelve ways to coax an obsolete dicad battery back to life. Not much call for that in Chicago.”

“Aren't they worried about you?”

“Yes. They want me to join them. Shamus has enough work to merit keeping his own documents examiner on staff.”

“Seems a ready-made job.”

“It's too cold.” Jani hunched deeper into her coat. “That's why the Haárin never tried to negotiate an enclave there. The weather's too rough, even for the Oà, and they're the northernmost idomeni. They've experience with harsh winters.”

“That's why coats were invented.” Niall eyed her askance. “What's the real reason you don't want to go back?”

Jani tried to glare him into submission, but as usual he met her straight on. “Some of those people form my first memories,” she said finally. “I know them. I know how some of them would react if they saw me now. They haven't taken
it out on my parents because I've been gone so long it's like I never really lived there, but if I showed up now…” In the distance, the lights of the enclave burned through the dark, and she bid silent thanks for this conversation's end. “It's my parents' home. They love it. I don't want to ruin it for them.”

“You were born there. It's your home, too.” Niall looked to her for some response, but before he could argue one out of her, Haárin security cut in with an ID request.

“Not anymore.” Jani whispered it under her breath, so he couldn't hear. They veered north and followed the beach. Before long the first enclave outbuildings came into view. She saw Tsecha standing at the head of the dock, Dathim at his side.

 

Tsecha led Jani onto the glass-walled veranda of the enclave's meeting house. The building had been constructed atop an artificial hillock. The veranda itself faced the lake, and overlooked the rest of the enclave. Nighttime security lighting cast eerie shadows on the short streets that ran below, lined with smooth-walled houses, the business exchanges and other buildings that served the needs of the Chicago Haárin.

“So you travel with Shroud.” He lifted his right hand waist high, then curved it in puzzlement. “There is a Neoclona hospital in Karistos for him to visit. Otherwise, what purpose does he serve?”

“Cover, inshah. If it is thought that I travel with him, no one will question closely why I travel to Elyas.” Jani fielded Tsecha's bewildered posture. Despite his extensive experience with matters humanish, the ways of the heart left him lost.
Well, that makes two of us.
She waited for more questions, and when she didn't get any, looked to her teacher to find him staring out the window.

“The injured Haárin are well. They walk, and have returned to their homes. The Vynshàrau Feres is most likely dead, but Shai still confers, and Sànalàn informs me of noth
ing. Such, she said, is of no concern to me, as she is now Chief Propitiator, not I. Yet I knew Feres, and feel the concern I am not allowed.” Tsecha started to pace. He wore a typical Haárin color-clash of purple overshirt and yellow trousers. His shirtsleeves billowed over his hands, sweeping back and forth in time to his stride. “If your John treated him, there would be no question of recovery. Feres would be made whole again. New limbs, as were given you nearly twenty of your years ago. New organs. But because he is idomeni, the extent of his injuries are seen to cast doubt upon the wholeness of his soul.” He paused in mid-stride and regarded Jani, amber eyes dulled by worry to old gold. “Did you ever question the wholeness of your soul, nìa, after your treatment?”

Jani looked down at her hands, pressing them together as though in prayer. The real right and the animandroid left, outwardly identical, inwardly so different. Red blood flowed through one, dark pink carrier through the other. The same held true for her legs, fake left and true right.
My cobbled-together limbs.
Just one aspect of her cobbled-together body, which if one pushed the point, could serve as an outward manifestation of her hybrid psyche.
Watch your step, Kilian—philosophical waters run deep.
“Quite often, inshah,” she admitted, because the faster she admitted to it, the sooner she could stop thinking about it.