Hidden Faults (42 page)

Paranormal doctors were in demand in Tsikeni, so I’d had a pick of positions and I’d accepted a job in a paranormal clinic. Paranormal professionals and tradespeople of any kind could name their own price. This city had opened its arms to a newly liberated and enfranchised population, eager to rebuild their lives now they’d won their rights, their families, and dignity back from those who’d so cruelly stolen it. The new government flung money at Tsikeni to encourage paranormals to stay away from the capital, and the city used it to build houses and infrastructure.

As the veecle took me from the rollo station to the inn which would be my temporary accommodation for a few days, I saw new blocks of apartments going up everywhere, new offices, academies, built with Weadenisi foreign aid, to train a new paranormal workforce, clinics, workshops, and schools. The whole place seemed a massive construction site. Here and there, I saw my kind, still marked with the tattoos that were no longer compulsory, working alongside their ‘normal’ colleagues, with no naksen shake or dazed eyes. I’d had a little time to become used to it, but it still gave me a warm glow every time I saw it.

I started work the day after I arrived in Tsikeni, and quickly found that the job offered me the structure and purpose to my life that I’d lost when my talent had emerged. The clinic was understaffed and overworked, but everyone there was determined to give it their all. There wasn’t one of us there to mark time. We wanted to be there, we wanted to help, and we believed in what we did. It was what I thought I’d had under Kregan, and now had for real.

Before travelling south, I’d spent a little time in Vizinken brushing up my general clinical skills with the help of my older paranormal colleagues like Dede and those few normal doctors prepared to work with us. It wasn’t that the medical profession as a whole were prejudiced against us, but paranormals as a group loathed normal doctors for enforcing the hated naksen dosages, and their general lack of sympathy with the problems that had brought. Paranormals turned to their own wherever possible. For that, I couldn’t blame them.

The challenge for anyone working with them was enormous, though. Years of mandatory drugging, neglect through poor services, the debilitation of poverty, had left a huge health deficit. It was perhaps only simple justice that one of the things which had changed sentiment towards our kind had been Kanar, that old warhorse, releasing a damning report on the devastating effect of naksen upon those forced to use it. Other reports about the widespread naksen thievery and the links to organised crime, gave weight to his highly vocal and eventually successful campaign for the drug’s use to be banned. I found it amusing a former pariah had become our chief champion and spokesperson, and that Kanar’s witty, cutting commentary was now an institution on the news skims. He’d been almost as effective as all our telepaths put together.

A week after my arrival, I found a room through the clinic, in a house with four other paranormals, all students. I could have afforded an apartment all on my own but, as Kir had after prison, I found the prospect of solitary existence unappealing. Beside, the house was nicer than any of the new apartments—larger and friendlier. It reminded me a little of being at university, with the same unconventional routines and easy attitudes to life.

I soon realised, though, that years in Vizinken hadn’t quite prepared me for the open-mindedness of Tsikeni. My first morning there, over breakfast, Laei, one of my new housemates said quite casually, “If you want a social life here, Jodi, the clubs are the way to go. I can get you an intro anytime you like. You like men?”

I stared at him. “Er....” No one had
ever
asked me that. Not so bluntly, or even at all. It wasn’t
done
in the environment I grew up in, or had lived in.

Eril, a young architecture student and minor telekinetic, poked his friend. “Manners. Just because you like taking it up the back passage. Gosh, hasn’t he gone a funny colour.” Laei smirked at my discomfort.

The heat in my face refused to subside. “Er...yes, I like men. But I—”

“Hey, this isn’t Vizinken. Deevs don’t have to slink around any more. I'm the Children of Marra’s worst nightmare—a paranormal deev on the loose. And proud of it.”

“
A
voting
paranormal deev,” Eril reminded him.

“And proud of that too.”

“Uh. Me too, I guess.” I grinned in relief. “I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that as a free man before.”

“Get used to it, Jodi. We're not taking any shit from anyone any more.”

Everywhere I went in Tsikeni, I found that same determination—to be self-sufficient, not dependent on a distrusted government or the normals who largely still feared us. The throwing off of shackles, real and regulatory, had had a profound effect on attitudes at all levels. Paranormals clamoured to be part of the local governance as much as the local economy, while the Marranite status quo, always less powerful in this liberal city, was challenged by a militant and vocal population of the loathed ‘deevs’ and a resurgent Spiritist movement. Even I, so sceptical, allowed myself to be talked into attending a greeting circle by one of our medics, and at last, when I had a real choice, Hermi’s wish that I found solace in this strange religion without gods, came to pass.

He was gently amused when I admitted this via one of our many viewcom conversations. He and I exchanged messages at least once a day, as I did with Dede, but he was even busier than I was. Wrangling a new world order took up a lot of time. I missed Hermi though. Even Jeyle, since she and I had worked so closely together as the plans came together.

Kir...I more than missed. He was in the thick of it, and worked on matters I dared not enquire into. Kir, Hermi, and a very small group of other paranormals were the secret, true powerbrokers of this country. It was a situation we all fervently hoped would not need to be maintained forever, once organic change gained full momentum.

I didn’t miss the mountain though. If anyone tried to make me return—or lock me up again—they would find the new breed of paranormals had remarkably few scruples about using their powers to defend themselves. Repression had given the will to ensure no one ever again turned us into helpless victims. We had teeth and wouldn’t be afraid to bite next time.

~~~

“That’s the last one, Jodi,” Kuminei said as she took the chart.

“Oh good,” I said, standing up and groaning as my aching back protested. It had been our specialist geriatric clinic today and as usual we’d been overbooked and understaffed. I thanked Dede for sending me Kuminei. An efficient medic, she would, in time, make an excellent doctor, though that would take several more years. She was due to start lectures again in a month, and I’d have to find a replacement. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

A knock on the clinic door. “Oh hell, not another one. Yes?”

Our clinic admin put his head around the door. He looked spooked, biting his lip anxiously. “Arwe Jodi, there’s a Defence Force officer out in front looking for you.”

I froze as Kuminei gasped in shock, then turned to me with an anxious look. “No...Jodi, I’ll cover, you can slip out the back.”

“And you think the defs won’t have thought of that?” I sounded a lot calmer than I felt, my stomach already turning inside out in terror. Kir was coming to visit me this weekend. I expected him the very next day—had been anxiously, excitedly awaiting him for two weeks now. Was this related? “Did they say what they want, Arni?”

“No. Just asked to see you.”

I turned to Kuminei, determined not to go down like a coward. “I want you to send the latest data to Arwe Dedeke, and if I don’t return, let her know. If I don’t return....”

She clutched at my arm. “This is supposed to be over,” she whispered.

“Yes, I thought so too.” I patted her hand. “Just...be a professional. Don’t forget to send the data.”

“No, I won’t.” But her eyes were stricken as I moved towards the door.

How could I get the word to Kir? But perhaps it was too late for that. I pulled out my communicator and called his number. It went to messages only, so I left a carefully coded recording and hoped he would steer clear. But he’d already be on the rollo so he couldn’t turn back.

The short walk to the foyer felt like a pardec. My record had been wiped well before I’d moved to Tsikeni. I’d been pardoned, amnestied.... What could the defs want with me?

My terror turned to confusion and then to anger as I saw who waited for me. I stalked over to him and restrained myself with difficulty from punching Kir in his grinning mouth.

“
You utter
turd
! You knew people were panicking! You knew I was!”

“Wanted to see the look on your face,” he said, still grinning like a fool. “Hi, Jodi. Nice to see you.”

“Wish I could say the same. Arni, would you be so kind as to go back and tell Arwe Kuminei that this ‘gentleman’ is a friend—of sorts—and all’s well. But I’d appreciate her sending the data anyway.”

Arni bobbed his head and fairly ran back to my office. The clinic gossips would be working overtime now.

“What data?” Kir asked.

“
Project Dede’s working on, compiling national statistics on the long term impact of naksen on former users. She’s recruited doctors all over the country, and why the hell are you talking about this, you bastard? Explain yourself. Why are you so early?” He really was dressed in a def’s uniform, black and sleek and apparently authentic.
And what’s up with that bloody outfit? Kir, is this another covert —

No, legit. Come have a drink with me and I’ll explain. Dinner?

I could have plans, you know.

Do you?

“Not the point,” I said, sniffing. He laughed in my face, cheeky bastard. “Give me five minutes. I’ve been handling sick people all day.”

It was my turn to laugh at him as he stepped back in horror.

I spoke to Kuminei and said my friend was playing a silly joke. She rolled her eyes. “With friends like those....”

I took off my cleancoat and tossed it into the clinic laundry collection basket. “Yes, I plan to make that clear. Enjoy the weekend, and thanks for today. You were a great help.”

“I enjoyed it. Every time I walk in here, know I have a real job...will that ever stop feeling good?”

“Not any time soon. Goodnight.”

I found Kir examining the health notices on the wall and frowning at them. “Dede’s clinic is like this too.”

“They tend to be. Come along, you owe me more than a drink. Bastard.”

He looked utterly gorgeous. The uniform fitted him perfectly, clinging to his tight buttocks, emphasising his shoulders and taut belly in a way a man ten years younger would have envied. But why the hell was he wearing it?

Does this have anything to do with why you’ve been so cagey for the last six months?

Yeah. I have to be careful about who’s listening. You okay with us doing this in our heads?

I rolled my eyes at him and he shrugged.

“Got any local suggestions?”

“Yes. But no one will want to see you dressed like that. Honestly, Kir, are you trying to upset people?”

“Not yet. Okay, let’s try the restaurant where I’m staying. You got a veecle or can we hire one?”

“No, I’ve got one.”

I’d never needed one in Vizinken, but Tsikeni sprawled across the plains like a rash on a beggar’s bottom. A veecle was essential.

When he gave me directions to Tsikeni’s largest and most expensive inn, I boggled at him. “
Who’s
paying for this?”

“Same people that give me the uniform. Just drive, Jodi. I got a lot of talking to do and I need a drink.”

I felt horribly conspicuous walking in beside him. Heads turned as we walked into the restaurant and the waiter’s obsequiousness was a bit on the sickening side as he found us a table with suspicious speed. I was well past the point in my life where such things gave me a rebellious thrill, and wished we’d gone to the quiet eatery near my home.

Kir appeared unfazed. I reminded myself he was an excellent actor and had been in far worse situations, so his lack of concern couldn’t be relied upon. But he smiled as the waiter set iced jada down for us both.

“You look good,” he said. “Shield’s still strong, I see. No tattoos?”

“No. A lot of people are having them removed.”

“I heard some were hanging on to them. Sort of a political thing.”

“Yes. A badge of honour. But most of us don’t want the government to be the one to define our identity, and they’re ugly as hell.”

“Yeah, they are. The beard’s kinda nice.”

I touched it. I was still getting used to it. “I guess I’m compensating for prison.”

“Beard, braid...yeah, I’d say so.” He gave me a grin to take any offence from his words. “You been back to the greeting circle? You said you didn’t mind the last one you went to.”

“
A couple of times. Still not completely sure it’s for me, but when you know no one, new town...it’s friendly.”
Kir, quit the small talk. Why are you dressed like a def?