Endgame (25 page)

“So what if the GateWay is only marginally functional?” Jani watched Niall drain half his drink in a single swallow, and knew it wasn't water.
Mako and Vega are too agitated to notice.
Unfortunately, there was someone else in the room who wasn't. She glanced at Lucien, a figure half in shadow, eyes fixed on Niall. “What if marginal is sufficient?” She heard her voice ring inside her head, and paused to breathe. “Nahin Sela has been ordered home by the fastest route possible. Her escort has no choice but to take the risk.”

“The circumstantial evidence does seem to be piling up.” Niall finished his drink, then set the glass in the sink. “What about Neason Ch'un?”

“Nahin Sela killed him, too. Why, I don't know. He saw something. He bothered her. He attacked her.” Jani tried to inject warning in the look she gave Niall, but he regarded her blankly, all alarms missed or, more likely, ignored. “She screwed up. She didn't fade into the background, as killers are supposed to.” She avoided looking at Lucien, who had returned to his corner, forgotten by everyone else. “She attracted attention.”

“So Cèel sends his goons to bring her home, and they
slaughter over three hundred humans as a cover.” Mako slid off his desk and paced. “We have no proof. Niall is right, it's all circumstantial.” He stopped in front of Jani, their past fractured relations as visible in his eyes as those with Anais Ulanova had been in hers.
Forget that now,
the look said.
Help me anyway.
“Can you give me proof?”

I don't need proof. I know.
But courts needed proof, as did admirals general and cabinet ministers. So she answered in the only way she could, as much as she hated to say the words. “I don't know.”

 

The VIP section's observation port proved an artful arrangement of twin spindle lifts that corkscrewed up the two sides of an enormous span of clear metalloceramic, then opened out onto a narrow catwalk that spanned the width of the pane.

Looks like about a two-story drop.
Jani tore her attention away from the dimensions of the indoor balcony and looked toward the station. The damage to the
Capria
was more visible from this angle, shiny pink hull sealant smeared across the side of the ship like blown bubble gum.

She heard the observatory door open, footsteps. The sound of the left-side lift ascending. Looked toward the one-person capsule just as it opened and Lucien stepped out onto the catwalk. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He stopped just beyond arm's reach and looked toward the
Capria.
“Does it help to stare at it?” He waited for her to answer, mumbled something in French when she didn't. “Pierce said Anais is full of shit. Why don't you believe him? Don't you trust him anymore?” He stared at her until he drew her eye. “I saw him take that drink in front of Vega. A dumb risk. He's not doing well, is he?”

“I'd say you'd been talking to Val, if you and Val were talking.” Jani kicked at the balcony railing.
I need a map of this tub.
She had tried to corner Niall after the conclave in Mako's office disbanded, but he shook her off and she had
tried to follow.
It took him one flight of stairs to lose me.
In a pulse-driven city with officers' clubs, bars, and liquor stores on most every deck. “He shouldn't have come. He should've stayed in Karistos.”

“He couldn't. He has to turn the clock back twenty years and make it right—” Lucien tried to dodge, but before he could, Jani kicked his leg out from under him. He hit the balcony floor hard and she followed him down, planting her knees on his chest, pinning his shoulders, rendering his arms useless. He tried to kick out a leg and twist so he could throw her off, but every time he tried, she pushed down with her knees, immobilizing him.

After one last failed attempt, Lucien struck the floor with his fist. “Uncle.” Then he laid back his head and smiled. “You scoot up a little bit, we could have some fun.”

“While you're on this tub, you keep your mouth shut about Niall, and your two-bit psych eval to yourself.” Jani pushed herself off him and scrambled to her feet, ready to kick hard if he came after her.

“I'm always the target.” Lucien sat up. “You want to batter the world, but the only one you can put your hands on is me.” He worked into a crouch and stood, then set about straightening skewed badges and brushing the creases from his tunic. “You'd kill to protect him, wouldn't you? He'd do the same for you. I think if he ever got his hands on Anais, he really would stuff her in a drone and send her down Samvasta GateWay.” His voice held the childlike curiosity that it usually did when he pondered emotional connections. “What does that feel like?”

“You want a lesson in humanity, take a class. They've got a branch of Chicago Combined on this damned thing.”

“I just find it fascinating is all. When you first met him, he gave you the creeps.”

“I didn't know him.” Jani edged down the railing, intent on remaining just out of Lucien's reach.
I don't need this now. I really don't.
“Some relationships improve over time.”

Lucien ignored her insult. “It's all gotten messy, hasn't it? Tsecha's death. This bombing. And you think you know what happened, but you can't prove any of it. And Mako needs proof, and unless you can give him something, he may just start thinking you're lying. He may even start believing those things Anais is saying about you, despite what his colonel tells him.” He leaned easily on the rail. “And that's not even the worst of it. If Cao catches on about the secession deal, we just might see Family members jailed for the first time in memory. As for the non-Family members, who knows what might happen? Rebellious Service officers, for example.” He looked over the side to the poured poly floor ten meters below. “This balcony isn't nearly as high as the one in Thalassa.” He looked at Jani and his gaze sharpened. “The view's the same, though.”

Jani tried to walk past Lucien to the left-side lift, but he stepped in front of her. She turned and headed for the other lift, but he circled her, blocking her again.

“I'm here.” He edged closer. “I've been here for weeks.”

Jani feinted to one side, then stepped back as he blocked her again. “A sympathetic ear.”

“An ear. When did you ever give a damn for sympathy?” Lucien started to laugh. “You know what's funny? I've actually missed this. Arguing with you. What sane person would miss arguing with you?” He shook his head, and wiped his eyes.

Jani turned her back on him and looked out at the stars. Sometimes, she found it easier to argue with Lucien if she didn't look at him.
I don't love him.
No, but love and sympathy and other of the finer emotions had never defined what passed between them. “When did you start thinking of yourself as sane?” A cheap insult, but with some luck it would irritate him enough to drive him away.

She stared at the stars. Tried to count them. Waited for the sound of the lift door, the sign that she was finally alone. Waited for any sound at all. When the silence continued, she turned to find Lucien studying her.

No, that wasn't the word. His expression—rapt, grave—she'd seen it before. In the half-light, after he'd undressed her, run his hands over every part of her, made ready to do all those other things to her that he did so well…

“You never change.” His voice emerged rough, as though he'd just returned from the same memory. “And I keep coming back for more, again and again and again—” He moved in, resting his hands on her waist, pulling her closer without seeming to apply any pressure at all. Kissed her cheek, lips barely brushing her skin. Maneuvered her gently to the other side of the balcony, blocking her view of the
Capria,
because if she opened her eyes and saw it, she'd make him stop, and he couldn't have that.

So simple.
Jani closed her eyes. Savored the growing ache between her legs as his lips moved across her neck, the trip of her heart as he fingered the front of her shirt and touched the topmost fastener.
Simple answers to simple questions.
Did she want him?
Yes.
Did she trust him?
Never.

Did she want to forget, even for a little while?

Yes.

Could she afford to?

Jani opened her eyes. Took what was there, to remember later. The sense of his body as he pressed her against the railing, the hardness and the heat. The softest scents of male and musk. The crisp feel of Service cloth and the silken touch of hair that seemed lit from within.

“This is pretty much what you did with Val, isn't it?” She touched Lucien's cheek, stroking it until he raised his head. “The air of defeat. ‘Here I am—why do I bother?'” She brushed a nonexistent smudge from one orange collar tab. “Well's run a little dry, has it? You're starting to repeat yourself.”

Lucien blinked. Then his eyes widened.
“He told you?”
He released her as through she burned. “That pathetic—”

“Not the details.” Jani walked to the left side lift capsule
and hit the door pad. “Anyone who's watched enough bad porn could fill in the details.” She entered the tiny booth as soon as it opened. Hit the Down pad. A simple task, as long as she didn't look back. “You chose your path, Lucien. Deal with it.”

She rode the lift down. Pushed out of the small capsule as soon as the door opened, like an animal freed from a cage. Felt Lucien's stare track her as she walked across the observatory and out the door.

 

She walked until she found a vend arcade. Bought a map of the
Ulanov
from a kiosk. Found a build-your-own-sandwich shop, inserted enough tokens to cover a double order, and poked through the vend coolers, assembling as she went.
Ham—cheddar—mustard—
She sprinkled a handful of peppercorns across her ham slices, then fixed them in place with a generous swathe of mustard. Spread pickles on both sandwiches, added tomato slices, and on Niall's a dollop of potato salad. Arranged the food on a couple of dispo plates, then piled them on a tray.

She consulted the map again. Stuck to stairways and primary corridors. Crossed from the VIP wing into Officer Country. Turned the corner onto the row of Transient Officer suites, and almost collided with Mako, who was headed in the opposite direction.

“Kilian.” Mako looked at the tray and his eyes softened. “I think he ate lunch, but that was some time ago.” He had changed into casuals and carried a battered gym bag. “I stopped by to see if he wanted to take a break, work out…” He blinked, leaned against the wall. “What is it?”

Jani tried not to look too closely at Mako. He stood more than a head shorter than she, and in his grey T-shirt and blue pull-on pants looked more like an old man headed out for a day of beachcombing then the supreme commander of the Commonwealth Service. “What do you think?”

Mako rubbed his bald scalp, shook his head. “I don't know how many times I told him, ‘Niall, you saved the Service the cost of three courts-martial.' We'd have fried them anyway.”

“They were Family.”

“We'd have fried them anyway.” Mako's eyes brightened with fight. “I'd have made sure.” He glanced at Jani sidelong, as reluctant to confide in her as she was to listen to him. “I told him he didn't have to go on to Shèrá. Before you showed up with Pascal, I told him. The way he looked at me, as though I'd kicked the last skid out from under.” He stared down at the floor. “Talk to him. Because he can't—” He pushed away from the wall. “He can't go on in the direction he's headed. Not here. Not now.” He edged past her and disappeared around the corner.

Jani stood in place for a time. Finally studied the map again, and started down the corridor. Checked nameplates until she found
N. PIERCE.
Hit the entry buzzer. “Niall?” She waited, then hit the buzzer again. “I need to talk to you.” She watched the red entry light, waited, waited. “Niall?”

Long moments passed. Then the light flipped to green.

Jani palmed into the cabin to find the lights dimmed. She closed her eyes, then opened them, hurrying their adjustment to the half-dark. Saw the shadow in the far corner, seated in a chair, obscured by smoke. “Have you been drinking?”

“Yeah, but like I told you, it doesn't help.” Niall's voice emerged slurred. “We're leaving a cruiser behind as a show of force. Fort Helier is on alert. Guernsey ComPol are rounding up members of human separatist organizations. If what you say is right, it's all a waste of resources and manpower. I always like feeling useful.” The tip of his 'stick glowed as he took a pull. “Is that a tray?”

“I made sandwiches.” Jani held out the food like a child displaying a craft project. “Ham and cheese.”

“You
cooked
?” Niall shook his head. “Constructed.” His voice emerged hushed. “For me?”

“Do you want it or not?”

“I'd be…loath to eat it.” Niall cocked his head. “Might have it bronzed.”

“Fuck you, all right?” Jani walked to the table beside Niall's chair and plunked down the tray, coughing as the clove smoke raked her throat. “Eat.” She took her plate, hied to the opposite side of the sitting room and fell onto the couch.

“You sound like my dear Roshi.” Niall took the sandwich in hand and peeled back the top slice of bread. “I've never seen potato salad used as a filling before.”

“My papa makes mashed potato sandwiches.” Jani bit into her sandwich and immediately hit a peppercorn. “You fry up the mashed with butter and onion. Dice in some bacon.” She savored the sinus-clearing capsaicin rush. “Grill the bread first, or it sogs up fast.”

“I can imagine.” Niall broke off a corner and bit carefully. “Thank you, gel.” He chewed. Paused. “Been dreaming much?”