Senescence (Jezebel's Ladder Book 5) (6 page)

Nemesis
narrowed her eyes at the Devil’s Advocate. “I thought you were supposed to be a
proponent of the men we chase. Why the sudden concern about our safety?”

Grant
glanced away, unable to maintain eye contact. “If something happened to one of
you, the Mater Nyx organization would come down on the perpetrators in no time.
Those vigilantes would make an example out of anyone who hurt you. Our mission
statement is education without violence.”

Shaking
her head, Nemesis said, “No. I’ve studied interrogation. You’re lying.”

Curious,
Laura transitioned into an online fan chat room. The hottest topic on the show’s
discussion board was the theory that Grant was secretly in love with one of the
cast members. Comments scrolled past:

“Why
else would a man change his religion like this?”

“He
turned down an anchor position at another network to stay with
someone
.”

“He
can’t tell her his feelings because she’ll always see him with horns.”

The
crowd couldn’t agree on the object of his affection. This would be the hot
topic for the season—guessing who the Devil converted for.

Laura
smiled.
I’ll keep an eye out for that during the next cast party.

“And
you make fun of me for the soap operas,” her mother said. Kaguya had slipped
into the room unnoticed and stood behind the sofa, dressed in a robe.

“This
is educational,” Laura insisted.

“In
a pig’s eye.”

“Please,
this is the one advertising project I’m proud of. If I weren’t working for
Mori, I’d be on that team.”

“You
are already overcommitted. What can I do to get you into bed?”

In a surprise maneuver, Laura said,
“Tell me how I can find out more about Antarctic Tern.” She wanted to learn everything
about the mysterious genetic engineering project that had developed her.

Kaguya considered this for several
moments. “American grand juries have unparalleled power to ferret out secrets.
Lead them to uncover the data for you. Be broad in the collection so you don’t
tip off your grandfather.”

In the middle of the night, a muscular sergeant kicked open
Stu’s cell door. The Rescue Corps patch on his beret identified him as an
Override, a talent that could exceed normal bodily limits for strength, pain,
and endurance. The soldier had wooly, black hair and an olive skin tone that
could have passed for dozens of ethnic groups in the movies. He glared at Stu.
“Why aren’t you in uniform?”

“First, I’m a civilian,” Stu
replied. “Second, I refuse to be treated as a prisoner. Third, I wore that
Hawaiian shirt to honor Officer Herkemer and his bravery in a recent action.”

The man took a step back. “
Rafael
Herkemer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My dad, Apelu, served with him.”

“No limits,” Stu said, reciting the
motto of the Rescue Corps. “Wait till I tell you about how he took on a force
of a thousand panda warriors single-handed.”

The guard extended a hand to shake
Stu’s. “Call me Onesemo. Do as you’re told, and I’ll treat you like a
gentleman.”

Stu checked the readout on the
man’s watch—2:00 a.m. Shaking hands, he said, “I’d never lift a finger against
my hosts. I entrust you with my safety on this planet.”

“The others are waiting to ask you
some questions. I have to cuff you,” Onesemo said.

“It’s okay,” Stu said. “We’ll get
everything sorted out.”

The cuffs were over four inches
wide, held together with a one-foot bar. The restraints featured several
monitors, including a GPS. Onesemo opened the door to a room with smooth cement
walls.

When Stu saw the mirror on the far
wall, he laughed. “They still do this in interrogations?” He could sense
several Actives on the other side of the glass.

The bald man seated at a control
console inside replied, “It’s an old room, but we’ve made some upgrades.” He
pushed a button, and a black reclining chair emerged slowly from the wall. The
chair was fitted with shackles on the arms, legs, and forehead. It could have
been used for electrocution.

Hell no. I am not sitting in
that thing.
Stu’s pulse monitor spiked.
Hurry up, ladies! If you take
much longer, I’ll have to break my own hand or something.
Pain should skew
the results.

“Please take a seat and answer our
questions truthfully.”

Stu backed up to the wall. “I’ll
discuss anything you like but not in that chair.”

“You don’t have a choice,” the man
at the console said. He signaled Onesemo.

“I’m sorry about this, sir,” the
guard said.

Stu persisted. “If you violate the
charter in this way, I respectfully refuse to say anything. According to your constitution,
I demand the lawyer Fortune Enterprises will supply me.”

The explosion across the hall saved
Onesemo from choosing which law to obey. Lights flickered out.

Finally
. Expecting the
blackout, Stu took advantage of his special senses to locate the console. Knobs
crunched under his cuffs.
The more complex the machine, the more vulnerable
it is to a single broken part.
He planted his feet on top of the podium and
tugged on the main touch screen as if it were a weed in his garden. Then the
electronic cuffs shocked him into unconsciousness.

****

Power was restored by the time Stu drifted awake. He lay on
an infirmary bed. The sky outside the barred window was still dark, but he
could see twirling lights from emergency vehicles. His right shin had been bandaged.
From the sting in his leg, no painkillers had been used, which was fortunate
because his mixed talents made him allergic to most of them. He tried to sit up
and peek at the injury, but his arm was zip-tied to the bed’s metal rail.

Onesemo stood beside him like a
statue.

“What happened?” Stu asked.

“Some idiot tried to kung fu an
instrument panel. Ruined both of them,” the guard explained. “Using the charge
in the cuffs to short the controls was brilliant.”

Must have happened when I fell
on them.
“I improvised.”

“Too bad the plan failed and your
friends couldn’t spring you from the cell.”

“Nobody was supposed to free me.
Ask your empath if I’m lying,” Stu said. “I was against the wall of that cell
until a minute before that blast. The explosion would have made me into hash.
Somebody tried to kill me …”
when we arrived in the system. Oleander left
behind the E01 equipment from our attackers, as well as a few bugs.
“You
guys should find out who—because if I die in your custody, everyone is going to
blame the US government for silencing me.”

Stu paused. “Why does my face
hurt?”

“You got a little singed by the
control-panel fire.” Onesemo looked nervous. “You said you’d answer questions?”

“Not for Dr. Mengele.”

“That’s Kazerinski. Who
will
you talk to?”

“Fortune Enterprises.”

“No can do,” the guard said flatly.

“Someone from the UN Space Agency.”

Onesemo shook his head. “You’re
accused of crimes against the US. That has to be resolved first.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you,” Stu
offered.
Maybe you can tell me the charges.

“That’s above my pay grade, sir.”

“Tell them I have a bond with you.
The others on your team can watch. If I see Kazerinski again, all you’ll get is
name, rank, and serial number—Stewart Llewellyn, civilian pilot and envoy,
nineteen.”

The guard snickered. “Your serial
number is nineteen? Seriously?”

“It’s a new country,” Stu said.
“There were eighteen original citizens, and I was the firstborn. So, yeah.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

****

A few minutes later, a technician set up special cameras in
the aisle of the infirmary. A few beds had to be rolled out to make room.
Onesemo read from a computer tablet. “How many people were in your invasion
force?”

“I’m not invading. I flew down to
reason with you people. Most of my crew didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Were they the ones who tried to
bomb us?” asked Onesemo.

Stu felt a wave of guilt. “Why
would my own people try to blow me up?”

“We’re not talking about tonight,”
Onesemo said. “We’re referring to your landing.”

The guy had been so nice. Stu was
ashamed to lie. “The pod—” He stopped when he tasted ashes. Mira radiated
smells that echoed her emotions. This phantom taste could only mean one thing.
Onesemo’s
a bloody empath! I’m trusting him because he’s playing me
. He grew up
around empaths. The best way to fight manipulation was to tap a strong emotion
from another source. “When I tried to land, I identified myself according to
the conventions. Someone launched missiles at me,” Stu said, his voice rising.

The pulse monitor alarm went off,
and a nurse rushed in. Stu smiled at her and gave her his most pitiful look.
The nurse glared at Onesemo. “You said you wouldn’t be applying duress to the
patient.”

Onesemo said, “This is another
Icarus incident. National security has priority.”

“Who told you that?” Stu asked.

“I’m asking the questions here.”

“There were no Icarus fields on my
craft. Search it if you like.”

The guard read his slate again.
“You know we can’t search your craft. There’s nothing left except the pilot’s
seat and the canopy.”

Stu shrugged. “The Magi don’t like
to show their hand to uplift candidates, especially hostile ones. It’s part of
their code. I can’t control that. If you hadn’t shot me down, the pod might not
have blown up to preserve their secrecy.”

“Where is
Ascension
?”

In a scrap heap.
“Somewhere
you’ll never find it.”

“That ship belongs to the UN Space
Agency,” Onesemo snapped.

“Then why did you kill everyone aboard
with
synchrotron radiation at the Saturn
nexus?”

“We
wouldn’t have.”

“Hmm.
Whoever did it had the ship’s plans. They knew just where to hit it to blow the
oxygen tanks and murder the crew.”

“So
you admit this was a revenge mission?”

“I’m
done here until you do your damn job,” Stu said. “Goodnight.”

An
older man with sunken cheeks and pallid skin entered the room, his suit several
sizes too large. He wore a Homeland Security badge with a blank space where the
name should have been. “You’re done when we say you’re done!”

Stu
said, “Touch me, and I’ll trigger my theta state. Good luck questioning an
unconscious man.”

“It’s
okay,” Onesemo said to the visitor. “We have enough to charge him tomorrow. We
need him conscious to stand in front of the judge at his hearing.

The
pale man nodded. “Once we successfully file, scheduling the trial will take
another three months. During that time, we can question him as often as we
want. Good work.”

The
nurse chased all the officials out. She offered Stu painkillers, which he
refused. In addition to avoiding drug reactions, he wanted to be lucid for his
court appearance. When her shift was over, she wrote her home link address on a
piece of white medical tape.
Nurses are sure dedicated
.

Eventually, the feds had compromised on letting Stu wear
some of his own clothing for the hearing—the Hawaiian shirt and baggy, black
pants that hid his leg wounds. His handcuffs were bound to his leg shackles in
a way that made rapid movement impossible. The Saturday emergency hearing was
delayed for hours. No one would explain why. He tried to meditate in the corner
of the courthouse holding cell while his guard paced.
The pain radiating
from me must be driving him up a wall. Good.

Stu deliberately rubbed the shackle
against his shin to increase the pain. “You’re as much a prisoner in this place
as I am.”

Onesemo glared at him. Today he
wore no hat or watch, and his hair was trimmed into a shape that reminded Stu
of French poodle photos. “Who else is still aboard
Sanctuary
?”

“Anything I have to say, I’ll say
to the whole world in that courtroom.”

“Oh yeah?” The guard made a call
into his sleeve. “Well, now there’s no media. National security can work
wonders.”

“A judge will dismiss most of your
bogus charges at the preliminary hearing,” Stu insisted.
At least that’s
what Yvette claimed.
“Any charges left will be read at the arraignment.
Before I submit my plea, I’m guaranteed access to a lawyer. Then I get a bail
hearing.”

“You have no way to pay for bail.”

Stu decided to push some buttons to
find out what was really happening. “Is your name Japanese or Italian?”

“American Samoan,” the guard said,
peeved.

“Really? But your first name is
Tony.”

“Atoni.”

“Are you Catholic or Protestant?”

“None of your business.”       

We’ll assume that’s a Catholic,
but lapsed.
“Dad always said that if Jesus ever came to Rome, they’d never
let him in the place. He’d be thrown in jail just like the first time.” He
focused on the rage he had felt when chiseling the gravestones for most of
Ascension’s
crew. “Like you’re doing to me.”

“Are you comparing yourself to our
Lord?” Anger roiled off Onesemo. It tasted like the time Stu had stuck his
tongue on a battery.

“Why? Are you planning to crucify
me?”

The guard had pulled back a hand to
smack his defenseless ward when the old spook opened the door. “Stop it. He’s
messing with you to collect bruises and sympathy.”

Onesemo shook his head and slowed
his breathing. “Sorry. His pain is driving me nuts.”

“Do you have a name,” Stu asked the
agent with the blank ID, “or should I call you Geppetto, the puppet master?
Where do you put your hand to make him talk?”

“Call me Rayburn,” said the man in
the loose suit. He pulled a roll of duct tape out of his pocket. “Speak one
more time without being spoken to, and you’ll be wearing this. Understand?”

Stu ignored him and went back to
meditating. He had been able to check the time on Rayburn’s wrist.

At lunchtime, a man in a delivery
outfit brought them each a sandwich. Fighting his cuffs, Stu peeled it apart
awkwardly. “I recognize the lettuce and bread … sort of … but what’s this pink
foam?”

“Meat,” Onesemo explained, taking a
healthy bite of his own.

“You’re joking. What animal?”

“Probably a combination of pork,
beef, and chicken. They grind up everything, including the lips and assholes.”

Removing the round slice of meat
foam, Stu wiggled it suspiciously. “You can have mine.”

“Okay.”

“And this white stuff?”

“Cheese.”

“Cool. I’ve always wanted to taste
it, especially on pizza. We don’t have cows in space.” Stu leaned over to eat
from his anchored hands.

Onesemo smiled. “What else do you
want to try while you’re here?”

“I studied the Seven Wonders, the
pyramids and stuff. I want to meet a cowboy with a real horse. Hopefully, I can
see a joust. Someone recommended the Holy Stairs in Rome and the Vatican
Museum. I might visit the British Museum or the Louvre. I hear the imperials
stole all the good stuff from the all the other civilizations and stored it in
one place.”

“None of that is modern.”

“I’d like to get in touch with my
heritage,” Stu said with a shrug. “I wanted to visit my grandfather in Wales
and my aunt in Brazil. They both have mansions on the beach.” He paused to
chew. “Maybe I can talk to more of those beach girls, but they didn’t seem too
bright.”

“We don’t date them for their
brains,” Onesemo joked, taking a swig of his water.

“I meant their auras. Dad told me
that making out with a woman without an aura was like sleeping with a
mannequin.”

The guard sprayed the wall with his
drink. When he could breathe again, Onesemo asked, “You’ve obviously never done
either.”

“No. I’m waiting till I get
married.”

Onesemo asked, “Any other dating
advice from Lou?”

“Um … Look for a woman you would
want to have children with, who could be your best friend. Have her read out
loud to you. Watch how she treats her younger siblings. Is she the kindest and
bravest person in the room? Does she encourage you in your job but excel in her
own realm? Do her hugs make you feel you could do or bear anything? Can you
look into her eyes and see that she’d do anything for you, including forgive?”

Onesemo stopped eating to stare
into space. “Tall order.”

“Yeah. He really loved Mom.”

“She’s gone?”

Stu shook his head. “You clearly
want a count of the crewmembers remaining in case you invade. That’s not going
to happen.”

“Gotta try. It’s my job.” Onesemo
took another bite. “Herk went fishing with me and my dad back in the day.”

“Herk showed me how to tie flies
and bait hooks. He always clubbed the fish before he took out the barb.”

“So it wouldn’t feel the pain,”
Onesemo said. “You really did live with him.”

Stu had finished his sandwich, but
he was still hungry. He had gone over twenty hours without food. “Can I share
some of your crisps?”

“Cricket crunchies? You won’t eat
meat, but you’ll try these?”

“I had to eat bugs for my survival
course,” Stu said. “Besides, our chickens love them.” He grabbed a handful of brown
protein chips and leaned over to consume them. That was when his special senses
picked up the flying insect. It had a higher density than a real
insect—probably a spy drone.
Whose?
It had probably snuck in with the
delivery man, so it wasn’t the US military. In an ideal world, the spy device
would be from Fortune Enterprises. In the worst case scenario, it could be from
the faction that had attacked
Ascension
.

“You raise chickens? In space?”
Onesemo sounded doubtful.

“Yeah. You guys know we live inside
a biosphere that’s two kilometers across. The Magi imported and modified
several Earth species to make us feel at home.”

“Like a museum to put humans on
display?” asked the guard, a little offended.

“More like an ark, in case Earth
didn’t survive until we returned. A few of us were worried that the global
economy would implode during that twenty years, or another stupid war would
make the place uninhabitable.”

The guard nodded. “We had a few
close calls. After the war, companies had to rebuild our communications
infrastructure. Now, any nation has the right to inspect anything launched into
orbit so we don’t all have weapons hanging over our heads. Technology is also a
lot greener than when you guys left.”

“Nanofabricators in every home?”

“No, those are for the military,”
Onesemo replied.

“Why so few companies in space?”

“The expense to rebuild was so high
that we had to guarantee profits for a few years to the five companies who
financed the new global net.” Onesemo changed topics abruptly. “So you’re saying
the crew came back to save Earth?”

Stu snorted. “Yeah! Why else would
we stick around after you murdered so many of us? Oops. Commander Zeiss didn’t
want me sharing any of that information until we have an agreement that you
won’t kill or imprison the rest of us.”

“Why would you think that?” Onesemo
asked.

“Duh! You shot down both the
shuttle and my escape pod,” Stu replied. Then he tasted flower petals and vowed
not to give away any more information about
Sanctuary
. “This is all
ancient history. Give me an example of a recent crisis.”

“The Durum Wheat Shortage. Without
hard wheat, they couldn’t make semolina for pasta. Most of the world uses
either rice or pasta as their cheapest staple. Without pasta as a food source,
a lot of people went hungry worldwide.”

A man in military uniform burst
through the door with a hypodermic stick in hand.

“Hold him still. Boss said we had
to give him a little painkiller.”

“Whoa,” Stu said, blocking with his
cuff. Because of the chains, he had to lift his feet off the floor to do so. “I
have allergies to—”

“Maybe—” Onesemo began.

The newcomer held Stu’s cuff with
one hand and shoved the stick against his bared bicep with the other. The
injector emptied with a hiss.

“Poison!” Stu shouted.

Rayburn ducked into the now-crowded
room to hiss, “Shut up! They can hear you.” The pale official pulled out the
promised strip of duct tape and applied it. When Stu squealed at the top of his
lungs, the man activated the shock feature of the cuffs to knock the wind out
of him.

“A little extreme,” Onesemo said.
“He
was
cooperating.”

His boss shook a finger at the
guard, “As soon as we get through this preliminary hearing, we can take him
back and shove him into another interrogation chair. He’ll talk this time.”

“Sir, with all due respect, he
wants to tell his side, but they ordered him not to say certain things until we
stop trying to kill him,” Onesemo whispered.

Rayburn glared at the guard.
“Maintaining our custody of this asset gives the US exclusive access to
Sanctuary
intel.”

Stu coughed, an operation made
difficult by the gag. He was sweaty and woozy.

Onesemo tried one last time. “He
looks pale. If he throws up with that gag on, he could die.”

The head spook hissed, “So what?
That’s better than letting foreign operatives like Mori’s techs get their hands
on him. You’re relieved of duty. The corpsman and I will stand guard until the
preliminary hearing is over.”

The empath saluted and marched out
of the holding cell and toward the courtroom.

****

Minutes later, the bailiff and several US Marshals knocked
on the door to the cell. “Sir, the judge is ready.”

Stu coughed more frequently, and
his nose whistled as he breathed uncomfortably. White spots danced across his
vision. He tried to point to the bump on his arm and grunt, but Rayburn shocked
him into silence before ripping the tape off.
Damn that hurt the lips.

They practically carried him in
front of the bench.

The judge’s dark robes couldn’t
hide the extra forty kilos of weight he carried on his wide frame. What little
hair he had was heavily grayed. Worse, his stern face was set in a frown.
“Young man, you admit to consorting with known thieves, the crew of
Ascension
.
However, your defense team has argued that not only were you unborn during the
crimes, but that the statute of limitations has expired on nearly every
charge.”

When the judge pointed to the
defense side of the aisle, Stu swiveled his gaze to look. A dozen men in suits
sat in his corner, together with a trifold screen like the one Yuki used to
dress behind.

The judge droned on, but Stu
focused his blurry vision on the screen. “During your landing, you carelessly
endangered the lives of millions of civilians, but the majority of the crimes
took place outside the one-mile boundary in international waters where I have
no jurisdiction. The charges of treason and crimes against humanity require a
grand jury, which can take up to eighteen months.”

Stu’s forehead tingled as he closed
his eyes and opened to the Collective Unconscious. Five members of the audience
were active, showing up as little points of light. However, the lone woman
behind the screen was a breathtaking aurora borealis of talent.

“Are you listening?” the judge
snapped.

Bobbling his head in the bench’s
direction, Stu had trouble forming words. “Sir, need … doctor.”

Waving his right hand, the judge
said, “So I’ve heard. A specialist is on the way. Your twenty lesser charges
are dismissed due to prosecutorial misconduct. Your guard, Mr. Onesemo came
forward earlier—”

“Your honor,” Rayburn objected.
“Onesemo is the subject of disciplinary action and is attempting to—”

The judge slammed his gavel down.
“Don’t interrupt me to lie. Open your mouth again, and I’ll jail you for
contempt. As I was saying, Mr. Onesemo came forward to plead for medical
assistance for the accused. Against his wishes we pressed him into testimony to
confirm video evidence presented by the Chinese government. They claim it was
seized as part of a corporate espionage scandal and turned over to the defense
because of the heinous nature of the content.”

The spy drone had been Chinese.
They turned over the footage to get me released. Why? Are they going to try to
kill me next?
Stu stopped trying to hold back the churning in his stomach
and threw up into the nearest trash can. As he knelt to hug the bin, his bloody
leg bandage became visible.

The judge growled. “Because of
imminent danger to his life, Mr. Llewellyn is being remanded into the custody
of his legal team until the grand jury hearings commence. Fortune Enterprises
has posted a bond of twenty million dollars, with the assurance that the
accused will not leave the metroplex until his legal matters are resolved.”

Desperate, Rayburn approached the
bench. “Your honor, without federal custody, the enemy combatant could still
flee or be kidnapped at any time.”