Kelley Eskridge (13 page)

An on-line
greeting card to BERT from SCULLY!

Hope the New Year

Brings You Joy and Happiness!

Dear Bert
—

I know you won't
like the card, but I was just thinking of you. And there's nothing
wrong with joy and happiness
.

Love
,

Scully

Dear Bert
—

So far the new
year is pretty much like the old one. The new paint job is almost
finished. Someone has already thrown a grilled cheese sandwich against
the wall and made a stain. I haven't decided whether to leave it or
not. Maybe I should. The stain on our society or something. Do I really
want to repaint every time this happens? I make a lot of grilled cheese
.

There's a watcher
been coming by who calls himself Razorboy. Nice kid, stupid name. He
offered to install a new viewscreen and a program
box in exchange for letting him hang around. I
didn't ask where the equipment came from, just said sure and told him
not to hassle the regulars. So now everyone's watching the coverage on
the big case coming up soon in Earth Court. You've probably heard
something about it even in Outer East Jesus or wherever you are—Ren
Segura, one of those Hopes everyone's making a fuss over, although of
course she didn't get to go to their big new year party
.

Very busy at the
moment. More tourists lately, probably because of the latest with the
Lady Butcher. I wrote you about it. The other two should be getting out
of the hospital sometime next week. I've told LB it would be nice if
she could tone down her response to these things, and she just smiles
and asks me how business is lately. What can I say to that
?

She and Crichton
are the only ones I ever have a real conversation with. It would be
nice to find a new friend
.

Love
,

Scully

Dear Bert
—

Between the Segura
pre-trial coverage and the stalled hearings on the renewed independence
of Hong Kong, I'm hardly selling any grilled cheese. Everyone here is
glued to the link. This poor kid, really, B. First a bunch of elevators
going down the hard way to the tune of four hundred thirty-seven people
(in situ or by debris, bunch of stupids who didn't duck fast enough),
and one of the riders was the Chinese Senator to Earth Congress. That
got EarthGov and the media ravens going. Madame senator was in Hong
Kong on a so-called goodwill trip before the start of independence
hearings. Now she and two of her aides are minced beef, so much for
goodwill. The hearings
were
immediately suspended, no surprise. I'll bet Hong Kong is very nervous
.

And the very next
day, Sheila Donaghue—you remember Sheila?—turned up on the net to claim
responsibility on behalf of Steel Breeze for what she called the
assassination of the senator. That made everybody jump around even more
and take a much closer look at the whole incident. And what they came
up with was Segura, who had just watched a couple dozen of her pack
mates, or whatever they're called, drop a half mile and mash themselves
into jelly
.

Did she do it? How
should I know? Maybe Donaghue just knows a slick photo op when she sees
it. She's always been good at press relations, Breeze was lucky to get
her. And Segura's a Hope. Maybe she'll even get away with it. Who
cares, I
—

Sorry about that.
Had an absent moment, fell down and cut myself. It's okay. It never
hurts any worse than it did the last time
.

Goodnight, Bert.
Wish you were here
.

S.

Dear Bert
—

LB informs me that
Steel Breeze is the best thing to come down the wire since grilled
cheese sandwiches. The party line these days is that Steel Breeze is an
international cooperative of organizations whose association is based
on mutual goals of separatism and cultural preservation in the face of
the growing acceptance of world governance and trade principles. She
said it all in one breath, straight-faced. And I thought they were just
terrorists
.

It's hard to
picture Segura that way. All the channels here are running profiles of
her. Some of them are just those silly canned biographies
with lots of publicity stills and dim-witted
voice-overs, but a couple have dug deeper than that. She seems like
your average young sheltered celebrity person, maybe dumb about most of
the world, but nice enough. Certainly not my notion of a global
conspirator
.

Today they showed
Segura's mother on the link facilitating media conferences for Ko
Corporation. Now there's a woman who looks like she needs about a half
a ton of barbiturate just to get through the day. Seems like Ko is
putting as much distance as possible between themselves and Ren Segura,
and making best friends with everyone to protect Ko's status during the
Hong Kong/China talks. Wouldn't suit Ko at all to find their perpetual
lease suddenly revoked by the nice folks on the mainland. And it isn't
too hard to figure out that the best way to hold hands with HK and
China right now is to find the highest tree for Ren Segura. It's hard
to watch
.

S.

That's it, B.
Stang Karlsson just signed an Earth Congress emergency resolution
revoking Segura's Hope status. That's it for her. No hope at all
.

AND IT SEEMED THAT SHE ONLY
BLINKED, THAT SHE
closed her eyes for a fraction of a moment,
and when she opened them again they were all dead and she was to blame,
and she wasn't a Hope anymore, and she was in terrible, terrible
trouble.

They kept her in a cold square room with
no windows and a barred iron door. Bright lights shone behind white
opaque plastic strips across the ceiling. There were more lights in the
room across from hers, and in the other cells to the left and right,
and in the hallway that ran between them from one distant end of the
holding facility to the other. The lights were always on, and hallway
monitors showed newslink programs and nature documentaries
continuously; it made it hard to sleep, and seemed cruel until she
thought about the alternative of darkness and silence in this place.

The sounds and smells of Earth Court jail
were sterile and cruel, like the light. Ammonia and moans; those were
her days and nights. And the more subtle odors of fear, the smaller
latehour sounds of despair. They were all around her, and she was
swallowed up. She was too thin. Her hands trembled. Her stomach hurt
all the time. She felt swollen with grief. She slept little, and moved
slowly, almost lazily, with little thought from one moment to the next.
And that wasn't right; she ought to be afraid.

She was allowed to see no one except her
family and her Ko-sponsored defense counsel. Her parents came once and
went away quickly, full of grief and a veil of guilt that she could not
pierce: she did not understand why her mother looked so ashamed until
she saw Donatella on the link. Her lawyers came when necessary and
stayed no longer than they had to. They always brought bad news. No one
could verify her version of the incident. The security audio record
feed had inexplicably failed in the control room and in the elevators,
but the control room video clearly showed her dismissing one of the
attendants, commandeering the console, and activating the “Disengage
backup system” command. One of elevator attendants had been found dead;
the other, not at all.

She waited seven weeks to come to trial,
assured all the while by the attorneys that everything was moving
extraordinarily fast, too fast for her own good. But it seemed
interminable. She was so lonely that sometimes she thought she must die
of it. She had a note delivered every day from Snow, each one full of
an intense, raddled conviction that the stars would all reverse their
courses and somehow everything would be all right. The messages, and
knowing Snow was so frightened, only made it worse. The lawyers would
not allow her to write back.

And finally she came into the light of the
immense courtroom with its vaulted roof and ornate moldings and
reinforced, bullet-proof windows, blinking like an underground creature
rooted from its burrow; and the whole world was there. There were rows
upon rows of people, all with spectator passes or media badges,
surrounded by a small army of security. The first day, she could not
focus on the audience. There were too many of them, and their faces
blurred during the two times she was able to force herself to turn
around. Mostly, she sat at the oversized table with her three
attorneys, looking at her hands folded in front of her, or at the
spiral galaxies of the wood grain. Then the next day, returning from
the lunch recess for another round of jury interviews, she locked onto
Snow's face in the crowd, and she felt as if she had looked up to see a
freight train bearing down on her; the breathlessness, the momentary
terror of it before the calm and the acceptance. Of course Snow was
here. Jackal cried, seeing her, and Snow wept too and reached out as
though she could touch Jackal from a hundred feet away.

And that was what finally made it real for
her: Snow's face. Suddenly she felt the wheel of the juggernaut, its
edge brushing her skin in the microsecond before the crushing weight
rolled over her. Snow's face all alone in a row of strangers, without
anyone from Ko or the web or their families, told Jackal that she was
doomed.

Five days into the prosecution's case,
Jackal's lead attorney came to her cell early in the morning. With him
was a short woman in a close-woven black suit that made her white skin
look bloodless. Her heavy forearms reminded Jackal of Snow's uncle who
drove Ko trucks in Italy. The woman was followed by a young Japanese
man carrying both of their briefcases.

Jackal's attorney sat next to her on the
edge of the cot, leaving the others to stand. “We need to talk,” he
said. He took a deep breath. “This is Ms. Arsenault. She represents Ko.”

Jackal could not remember how people with
manners handled these awkward moments; should she stand up, or offer
this grim woman her hand? It terrified her that Ko was here in the
person of this Arsenault. She twisted her fingers in the loose folds of
her trousers. It seemed to her that she should speak, that she should
muster some dignity and say, ‘Please, tell me what I can do for my
company.’ But her throat was dry, and Arsenault did not wait.

“Ms. Segura, I'm the Director of Special
Projects for the Ko Executive Council.” Arsenault's voice filled the
room, although she was speaking conversationally. Without looking back,
she held her hand out behind her, and the young Japanese man placed a
file in her fingers within a half-second; not a palmtop, but a paper
document. Jackal swallowed.

“Ko has been very concerned since the
unfortunate incident in Kowloon,” Arsenault went on. “As I'm sure you
can imagine. The allegations of your association with Steel Breeze are
particularly troubling.” She looked expectantly at Jackal.

“Yes,” Jackal agreed. She wished someone
would tell her what to do next.

“You are aware that the corporation is
sponsoring your defense.”

“Yes.”

“We'd all like to see a win-win here,
wouldn't we?”

Jackal twisted her fingers harder into her
trousers, until she thought the fabric might tear. “What are you
talking about, please?”

Arsenault chewed on the inside of her
right cheek for five seconds before she answered, and her words were
directed to Jackal's attorney. “Jesus Christ, Rafael, I didn't realize
how young she was.”

“Her age is listed in her records.”

“I wasn't referring to her date of birth.”
She turned back to Jackal and her voice became more clipped. “Ms.
Segura, let's get this over with. After reviewing your situation, it is
the opinion of the Executive Council that you will be found guilty. You
may want to check that with your counsel.”

Jackal turned to him and he nodded. “We're
all going to give it our best shot, but my professional judgment is
that you will not walk away from this.”

Arsenault continued, “There's been more
than enough bad publicity. We're prepared to offer you several
incentives to end this quickly and quietly.”

Everyone looked at Jackal. All she could
think about was the way the lawyer had said
you
won't walk away from this
, as if what was happening to her
was a prolonged, messy transit accident. She felt herself turning,
rolling, endlessly.

Arsenault went on. “Ms. Segura, it has
come to the corporation's attention that your status as a Hope was
fraudulently obtained. Your birth occurred sometime after twelve-oh-six
in the morning, not in the first second after midnight.”

Jackal closed her eyes.

“The corporation was shocked to learn that
your parents and the obstetrician conspired to alter the delivery
record in order to secure Hope status for you.”

Jackal opened her eyes and said like a
little girl, “The company knew.”

“There's no evidence of that. There is
nothing to demonstrate that Ko was aware of any irregular activity.
There are, however, indications that you as well as your parents were
aware that your status was improper. Certain of your training and
advisory records from the last few months are particularly damaging in
that respect, although no specific mention of your status is made. Much
of the content could be used to demonstrate probable awareness.”