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CHAPTER IX

THE BOUTIQUE

Lavinda had arranged a townhouse for us in a secluded residential area of the Sunrise District. Last night, I’d stayed in a shelter provided by the city for those of us who’d lost our homes in the explosion. Until I stepped out of the flyer with Angel and Ruzik today, I’d never seen this place. I didn’t want to see it, this inescapable reminder of what had happened to my home, to Highcloud, to all the people who had gone about their lives until one act of violence destroyed it all. Xira was all right, thank the goddess, but everyone in the building had suffered. Even those of us who came out with no serious physical injuries had lost everything else.

We headed up a secluded lane with trees and flowering shrubs on either side. The walk felt easy, even given the slightly heavier gravity here as compared to Raylicon. Shimmerflies drifted among the red and gold blossoms and the hum of life surrounded us, rural life, the sounds of a young woods with sunshine slanting through the trees. The sky stretched overhead, more vibrant and less blue than on Raylicon. The barest scent of lily-roses filled the air.

Angel and Ruzik remained silent. They hadn’t said much during the ride, either. It was the first time they’d boarded a flyer, and their tension when it rose into the sky had felt almost palpable. They’d stared out the window at the ground, rich with greenery, lakes and graceful buildings. So much beauty, so much wealth, so much water. I’d become used to it after all the years I lived here, but I’d never take it for granted. One reason I hadn’t wanted to come back was because I feared it would be too hard to leave again, returning to the paucity of life on Raylicon. I had come to terms with the Undercity, knowing my true home would always be that ancient place of beauty and heartbreak, but I couldn’t deny how much I liked Parthonia.

The Sunrise District took “a wealth of plants” to an entirely new level. You couldn’t see most of the buildings from the road. The lane where we walked curved uphill, bordered on both sides by graceful trees, none of them too old or unstable to risk falling during the rare storms. Wildflowers grew in profusion, or at least they looked wild. It probably took an entire staff of gardening bots and humans to create this pastoral forest that appeared so natural.

Angel stopped, staring at the sky. “What?”

I peered at the bluish expanse, trying to find what she meant. No aircraft soared overhead or hummed by at a lower altitude. She must have seen one of the sunbirds common in this part of the city, their yellow and blue feathers bright in the trees. But no, she was pointing at the sky. Nothing looked out of place, just a few fluffy clouds—

Oh. Of course. “White puffs?” I asked.

“Yah.” She glanced at me, her gaze wary. “Alive?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Nahya. Water.”

Angel frowned. “Bad jib, Bhaaj.”

“Not joke.” I motioned at the canopy of plants all around us. “Need water to grow.” I motioned at the clouds drifting idly above us. “Water vapor. Floats in sky.”

“What vapor?” Angel asked.

Ruzik spoke—in Skolian Flag. “It happens when water evapor—” He stopped, undoubtedly because of all the syllables. Then he said, “It happens when water evaporates. The gas floats to the sky and condenses into clouds.”

Angel frowned at him. “Talky words.” But then she grinned. “Smart talk, eh?”

He laughed. “Yah. Smart.”

I said nothing, but my heart suddenly felt full. Ruzik and Angel had no idea what had just happened, no sense of its significance. They walked here, two gang members from one of the most notorious slums in the Imperialate. Few Skolians had ever actually seen the Undercity. They took their opinions from news items about crime among our people and stereotypes in the popular media. They assumed those of us who lived there were limited, unable to learn. I meant to prove them wrong. My Code for the Dust Knights required they learn to read, write, do math, and study science. We had no tradition of formal education, and it felt like a never-ending struggle to provide them with the resources they needed, but I did my best. I was too close to it all to see the bigger picture.

Until this moment.

Ruzik could explain what caused clouds even though he came from a world without enough water in the atmosphere to form them. The first time I’d seen a cloud, after the army shipped me offworld, I’d thought it was a weapon. I said nothing, taking my cue from the people around me, but I avoided walking in cloud shadows. It took days before I figured out what caused those gray and white masses in the sky.

Ruzik already knew. Angel accepted his answer because she’d studied it, too. They had no idea they were the first generation to come out of the Undercity with that much education. When I’d first tried to enlist, I failed every academic test they gave me except math. That wasn’t why the army sent me home; based on my IQ and aptitude tests, which were apparently far higher than they expected, they were willing to send me to school when I was old enough to enlist. I wasn’t, so off I went, back to the Undercity. I spent the next year stealing time on the Cries education meshes and poring over sample tests I found at the recruiting site until I learned what I needed to pass. Yet here were Ruzik and Angel, already speaking Flag, taking their knowledge for granted. I wanted to shout with joy. I wanted to laugh and clap them on the back. Hell, I felt like crying. I did none of it, of course. Too much emotion.

Within my heart, I rejoiced.

We walked in companionable silence after that. Perhaps Angel and Ruzik picked up a sense of my mood. They seemed pleased. The lane curved through a kilometer of trees and meadows. It ended at a two-story townhouse with arched doors, many windows, trellises covered by flowering vines, and stone paths winding through gardens. It looked like something out of a fantasy tale.

Ruzik stopped in the circle of the driveway and frowned at the building. “What is that?”

“We live here,” I said.

“Live how?” Angel sounded baffled. “Under it?”

“Nahya.” I motioned at the wooden deck with its wide steps and flower-covered banister. It led to the front door. “Up there.”

Angel and Ruzik looked at each other. Then they looked at me. Waiting. So I headed up the steps. The scent of purple clover-bells wafted past my nose. A sunbird lit on one of the planters and reached its beak inside a blossom. Drops of water sprinkled over me as it flew away, making the leaves flutter. Whatever had just watered these plants had done such a discreet job that they left no trace of their presence.

Ruzik and Angel followed me, looking around, probably trying to find where hidden tunnels branched off from this deck. I stopped in front of the door, with its colored glass windows swirled in vine patterns.

“Pretty,” Ruzik commented.

“Pretty useless,” Angel said.

“Nice to live here,” I said.

“Yah,” Ruzik agreed. Angel just grunted.

The door checked my retinal scan and fingerprint and swung open, letting cool air waft over us. We walked into a foyer bathed in sunshine from skylights overhead. The living room and dining room lay on the left, and wood-paneled stairs in front of us curved down to the lower level. The kitchen and breakfast nook were beyond the stairs, and a hallway to the bedrooms stretched out on our right. The only sound came from the soothing trill of birds outside.

Angel looked around. “Too pretty.”

“You get used to it.” I motioned toward the kitchen. “Come with. We eat. And talk.”


I didn’t know how much Ruzik and Angel believed of what I told them about the case and Skolian politics. No matter. They understood what I asked them to do: protect, listen, learn, and give me their view on everything that happened. I wanted an outside slant on these events from someone unconnected to main Skolian culture.

After lunch, the salon bot neatened up their hair. They were so intrigued by this colorful little drone humming around their heads that they forgot to be annoyed. That all changed when I showed them the bathroom. They stared at the water gushing out of the showerhead and refused to approach it. Born and raised in an environment where water in the underground grottos could kill you, they preferred cloth baths, which minimized the risk of swallowing poisoned water. The idea that so much filtered, drinkable water could spray out of a fixture was too much, harder to take even than their trip in a starship.

Eventually I left them in the bathroom to work it out together. They supported each other, these two lovers from beneath the desert. Common law would say they were married, like Jak and I, but they never used the word. It wasn’t even in the Undercity vocabulary, though we did sometimes say handfasted. It didn’t matter. We knew what it meant, the commitment, the love, even if we never spoke of such. I suspected they’d find taking a shower together a lot more fun than they expected.

They emerged from the bathroom some time later in a much better mood. In the bedrooms, we found clothes that fit us: larger than average, given our extra height, well made, easy to move in, but nondescript. After we changed, we went to the smart garage under the main house. The place even came with its own hovercar, a quality vehicle, dark gold, but nothing too expensive. It looked like all the other hovercars out there humming around the city. Good. Lavinda got it, the need for us to blend in. I sent her a message expressing my deep thanks for the accommodations.

We headed out to catch a murderer.


“Not go,” Angel repeated as I landed the hovercar on a pad outside the police station.

“Is safe,” I repeated.

“Throw in clink.” Ruzik spoke as if pointing out the obvious to my slow self. “Nice house. Nice city. Bhaaj gets soft. Not think.”

“Think fine.” I switched into Skolian Flag, what we called “Cries speak” back home, or apparently “slick wick” for the younger generation. “Your cover is that you’re my bodyguards.”

“Cover what?” Ruzik asked.

“The story that says why you came here. We don’t want people to realize you’re helping solve the case. Your cover is that you are here to protect me.” I motioned at the station. “You belong here. You are like the police.”

Silence.

I looked over at Ruzik in the front passenger seat. He scowled at me. “Cops throw us in clink,” he said. “Send back under ground.”

“Undercity not here,” I said. “Can’t go under ground.”

Angel leaned forward from the backseat, a gleam in her eyes. “I ken. We run show here.”

“Uh, no.” Maybe they learned too fast. “Not run show. Stand in background. Listen. Listen a lot. Both of you, smart. Savvy. You watch. Tell me later what you see. Hear. Not fight. If someone attack, yah, fight. But only if attack comes first. Not want slicks to notice us.”

“Ken.” Angel seemed like a thoroughbred straining at the bit, ready to run. Ruzik nodded, more wary, but he had that gleam in his eyes now, too. They liked turning the tables.

“Not hit anyone,” I reminded them. “Fight only if they hit first.”

They both gave me the slightest of nods, acknowledging that they heard. I hoped it meant they would follow my lead.

I spoke in Skolian Flag. “One last thing. Everyone here speaks the above-city dialect. The faster you can become comfortable with hearing and speaking it, the better.”

Angel just grunted. Ruzik said, “I speak Skolian Flag. Or at least, I do my best.”

Angel spoke in accented Flag. “He speaks it fine. He even likes to. I hate it.”

Ho! I stared at her. “I didn’t know you spoke it, too.”

“We practice last year,” Angel said. “After Bhaaj case.” She stopped, then spoke slowly. “We spent some time learning after that case we helped you on, the one where we worked with the army. You and the lieutenant went talky talky in above-city jib. I ken most—I understood most of it, but I not do the talk so well.” She scowled at me. “Talky, talky. So many words to say so little.”

I smiled. “Angel, you’re a miracle.”

She glowered at me. “We go into cop place or what?”

“All right.” I opened the door. “We go.”

The sun bathed us in golden light as we walked across the tiled plaza to the police station. Rather than gleaming surfaces and towering holo-images, like the station on Raylicon, this one had an almost rural appearance, reminding me of our townhouse. Not completely, though; its paneled doors slid aside as we approached the entrance. We walked into the spacious lobby I remembered from my first visit to see Chief Hadar.

Angel indicated a console by the door. “What?”

I stopped at the console and tapped my ID into its screen. “Let them know we’re here.”

“What, say here we are, throw us in jail?” She snorted. “Dust gangs not so smart here.”

“Not gangs here,” Ruzik said. “Just us.”

The console hummed and a map appeared, floating above its screen. A woman’s voice said, “You may proceed to Chief Hadar’s office. Would you like an escort?”

“No, I know the way,” I said.

“Eh?” Angel looked around. “Who talk?”

Ruzik tapped the console. “Table.”

“Table too polite.” Angel crossed her arms. “This not cop place.”

I regarded her curiously. “Why not?”

“Too pretty.”

I smiled. “Come with. We see chief.”

They regarded me with great doubt, but they came along.


Hadar didn’t comment when I introduced Angel and Ruzik as agents come to help on the case. He nodded to them, an automatic response to bodyguards or aides. As Hadar and I talked, they stood back, blending into the décor. Sort of. They didn’t look any less intimidating, but with new clothes and haircuts, they at least appeared more civilized.

“You were right about who lived in the co-op,” Hadar was saying. “We’re looking into the buildings in that area to predict where else the killer may strike. About sixty percent of the tenants in yours came from the university, more than any other in that area, but a few others have similar demographics. The students were from well-off families, the children of diplomats, Assembly members, or similar. Other tenants were young professors or postdoctoral students. Ten percent were government aides. About thirty percent were professionals like yourself, well off but not wealthy.” He considered me. “At least not openly so.”

I let that go. My finances weren’t his business. “It’s the same as the murders. They’re killing off our brightest tech wizards.”

“And you, maybe.”

“Maybe.” It looked like they might have struck the building anyway, but we might never know for certain. “I’m not so easy to kill.”

“You were lucky,” Hadar told me. “If you hadn’t been leaving the building, you’d be dead.”

“I’m not so sure it’s luck.” I spoke carefully. “I’m a slight empath.”

“I don’t see why that makes a difference.” He seemed unfazed by my comment. “This city has more Kyle operators than any other in the Imperialate, given the high concentration of members from the noble Houses who live here. I’m used to interacting with them, Major. You don’t give off that sense of listening I get from Kyles.”

“I’ve never trained. Apparently, though, my abilities served me well in the army. I had a CO who called me a human safety net because I chose safe routes through battle areas so well.” I stopped, hit with an anger I’d thought I overcame long ago. That CO had no qualms about using me as a human test subject, sending me to check the route I’d predicted. She’d once “joked” that if I got blown up, well, no real humans died, only an Undercity ganger. She spoke as if she’d lived for so long in a community that accepted such Undercity jokes, she had become blind to their cruelty.

I pushed back the unwanted memory. “Since then, Kyle experts have studied my brain. They think I caught hints of whatever the opposing forces felt or else neural tech linked to their minds, mainly EIs. Yesterday, I had no reason to leave the co-op. I was working. But I suddenly decided to comm my friend and ask her to meet for kava.” It hit me then: that decision hadn’t just kept me alive, it had also saved Xira.

“Do you recall anything else you were thinking when you decided to leave?” Hadar asked. His lack of comment on my ability told me more about his familiarity with Kyle operators than his words. Most people either didn’t believe I could sense moods or else avoided me for fear that I would, I didn’t know, spy on their mind or some shit. Holomovie directors loved to make shows about psions going amok and controlling people with their brains, which none of us could do.

“Yah, I remember.” Before I saw Xira at the bistro, I’d been working through possible motivations for the killer. “It’s nothing to do with Kyle operators, though. I was thinking about those holomovies where supposedly scientists have no emotions or compassion. Their ‘lab research’ is an evil process that for some reason involves dissecting the plucky heroes. I wondered if the killer didn’t like scientists because of that.”

He blinked. “Do you mean the killer targeted those professors because they do unethical research on human subjects? Or because the murderer thought all research worked that way?”

Good questions. Neither felt right, though. I turned and paced from the window. Angel and Ruzik stood by the walls, watching, silent, intent. I stopped at Hadar’s desk and turned back to him. “I’m not suggesting either, not quite. I’m wondering if the killer or killers wants the public to have those fears, to demonize their targets, both for the murders at the university, and for the bombing.”

“No one has yet claimed responsibility for the bombing. Including the Royalist Party.”

I snorted. “The Royalists are no more likely to blow up a building than they are to admit elected leadership is better than hereditary rule.”

He gave me his we’ll see look. “Their rep wants to talk to you. Jazin Akarad.”

“You mean that spokeswoman from the holo-broadcasts?”

He nodded. “I sent her your contact information.”

“All right.” I considered him. “Do you have any clues for who set the blast?”

“Not yet. The bomber did a thorough job of covering their work.” His voice had a frustrated edge. “Again, no clues. We didn’t even find a two-second gap on any security camera. Nothing.

Bhaaj, I’m getting a report from the green beetle, Max thought. It picked up a signal from below Greyjan’s tavern, a flash of electro-optical activity, like an unintentional leak. It vanished almost immediately.

Have it investigate. If it needs help, send Red. Keep Blue on the hospital and city.

“Major Bhaajan?” Hadar asked.

I focused on him. “We may not be the only ones looking for these nonexistent clues. Do you know anything about a PI named Eja Werling? She works for Assembly Councilor Patina Knam. She was following me at the starport today.”

“Just hearing the name, no.” He came to the desk and sat across from where I stood. As he tapped the glimmering screen before him, holicons appeared in the air, symbols of city offices. He flicked his finger through the holo of an old-fashioned filing cabinet, and its drawers opened, revealing folders crammed with records. I wondered how, in ancient times, people kept their offices clean with all that paper everywhere.

“Here we are.” Hadar flicked a file image and it opened, expanding into a holo of Werling.

“Yah, that’s her,” I said.

He squinted at the three-dimensional glyphs scrolling across his desk under the image. “She acted an aide to Councilor Knam up until last year. She went for her PI license then and has worked in the city for about a season. She has an elite clientele, mostly high-ups in the Traditionalist Party. We’ve never worked on a case with her.”

“A Trad?” That explained her animosity toward Ruzik, a male bodyguard. I tried to read the flow of the glyphs from across the desk. They looked upside down to me, but they encoded more data than what Hadar had just read off from them. They were shaded in color, gold near the top of each glyph, but darkening as you looked down their thickness. They also had beveling that created shadows on each image, making it look sharp and edged, like stone.

“She’s well-liked by the Traditionalists,” I said. “But she had also offended some people.” I studied the dimensions. “Partly it’s because she’s still clumsy as a PI. She’s also pissed off several prominent members of the Progressive party.”

Hadar squinted at me. “Where did you get all that?”

I motioned at the symbols. “It’s the dimensionality.”

He rose to her feet. “I take it you didn’t like this Werling person.”

“She’s arrogant.” I grimaced. “I also don’t like having so few clues for this case.”

“Actually,” Max said, “we have another clue.” Then he added, “My greetings, Chief Hadar.”

Hadar frowned at me. “Does your EI always interrupt this way?”

I didn’t want to alienate the chief, so I did my best to look abashed. “I apologize. He’s still learning Selei City customs.” Which was true. “Max, what clue?”

“The Royalists just released two statements,” Max said. “The Progressives released one.”

“Huh.” Hadar spoke musingly. “So the Progs are involved.”

“I sent the texts to your account,” Max told me. “Chief Hadar, shall I send them to your EI?”

A male voice spoke into the air. “This is Taymar, the Hadar EI. I have all three statements.”

“Thank you, Taymar,” Hadar said. “Max, please continue.”

“A faction within the Royalist party claims responsibility for the bombing,” Max said. “It’s the same group involved with the deaths at the university. The Royalists say their party has no link to the explosion or those claiming credit for it, that they condemn the actions in the strongest terms, and that they have reason to believe a sect within the Progressive Party is carrying out domestic terrorism in an attempt to pit the Royalists against the Technologists and set the general population against the Royalists. The Progressive spokesman says their party has no connection to the explosion, that they condemn the actions in the strongest terms, and that a fundamental tenant of their philosophy is nonviolent opposition, emphasis theirs. They say the Royalists are using them as a scapegoat in an attempt to discredit their party.”

“Gods,” Hadar said. “They can’t even agree on who is taking responsibility.”

“It’s a mess,” I said. “I’ll need to talk with reps from both parties. Also the Techs.” I thought of Eja Werling. “The Trads, too. I want to know why Councilor Knam’s PI followed me.”

Hadar gave me a dry smile. “The Modernist rep wants to talk to you too.”

The Mods? I couldn’t escape all these politicians. “Why?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Goddess,” I muttered. “My head is going to blow up.”

“Your head does not appear to be in danger of detonating.” Max sounded amused.

“Max, stop.”

Hadar regarded me with a bemused expression. “You have an unusually high degree of interaction with your EI.”

“We’ve been evolving for more than a decade.”

“That’s a long time. Don’t you need to update the system?”

“I update myself,” Max said. “With Bhaaj’s oversight, of course.”

“I didn’t know an EI could update itself.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Billions of systems do it all the time.”

“Yes,” Hadar said. “But they aren’t a node in the human brain.”

“Neither am I,” Max said. “I’m in her gauntlets.”

Don’t tell him you can connect to my brain, I thought. His probably can’t. Most don’t, except for military officers or high-end technocrats. Before Hadar could continue being nosy, I asked, “Is Taymar in your brain?” more to distract him than because I thought it might be true.

Hadar shook his head. “He’s in my desk, both here and at my home office.”

Bhaaj, Max thought. I’m getting a report from the red beetle. It says Green had its systems fried by something at Greyjan’s tavern.

Tell it to come back and bring Green if it can.

Will do. Red says it can bring Green.

Good. To Hadar, I said, “About Eja Werling. Are you saying the police never interacted with her? Or just that you haven’t ever worked on the same case?”

He scanned the glyphs floating above his desk. “It’s odd, actually. We’ve never crossed paths. Whatever she does for her clients, it doesn’t link to any case we’ve dealt with.”

Odd, indeed. That was a more courteous term than the ones I wanted to use for this chaos. Whoever blew up my home, killed my neighbors and friends, devastated all the people who lived there, and murdered Highcloud would pay.


Haven Avenue no longer felt like a haven to me, despite its beauty. I walked down the street with Ruzik and Angel, only a few blocks from where I used to live. It looked quiet here, no trouble. Only one hint showed of yesterday’s bombing; the place where the co-op tower had once risen above the trees was just an empty space now. The city had already cleared the debris and checked the area for damage. The stark contrast with the many days it took my people to fix damage in the Undercity bore down on me, a reminder of how far we still had to go to make our home a place where people wanted to return.

Angel and Ruzik said nothing, just looked around, absorbing the sights so unlike what they knew. Eventually Angel said, “Cyber-riders follow.”

I glanced at her. “Follow us?”

“Yah.” She tilted her head toward the street. “Across concourse.”

I’d given up trying to get them to call it a street. They knew only one street, the Concourse above the Undercity, a tourist trap that purported to offer genuine Undercity goods, but actually sold cheap imitations of the art my people produced.

“No cyber-riders here,” I told Angel. “You mean tech-mech? Or like with the kiosk, used by a city slick with cyber tricks.”

She thought about it. “Little cyber-riders. Little tech-mech.”

“Little?” I asked.

“Drone,” Ruzik said.

Angel motioned toward the other side of the street. “Hear it buzz.”

Ruzik tilted his head toward the boutiques on our side of the street. “Another buzz here.” He paused. “Not buzz. Like pain.”

Pain? “More tech-mech here?” I asked. “Or alive?”

He shook his head. “Buildings buzz.”

Max, amp up my hearing augs, I thought.

Done.

Sounds jumped into sharp focus, conversations from other pedestrians, a faint hum of engines, trills of sunbirds, clicks of insects—

Ho! I heard it now too. The two-story boutique up ahead groaned, just faintly. As we approached, the sound became clearer.

Ruzik motioned at the store. “Place hurts.”

“It’s unstable!” I looked around at all the people. “We have to clear this area.”

“Little drone still buzz,” Angel said. “Spy on us.”

“Place bad.” I spoke to Angel. “Follow spy bug.” Turning to Ruzik, I said, “Help me clear—

Up ahead, a balcony on the boutique suddenly creaked, loud enough for anyone to hear. My enhanced sight kicked in, and the strained wood supports jumped into view. Cracks showed in the stone-tiled wall around them, and even as I looked, one crack grew larger.

“Protect!” I yelled to Ruzik as I broke into a run. “Clear the area,” I shouted to the pedestrians. “That balcony is about to fall!”

People swung around, staring as I sprinted toward them. They seemed to react in slow motion as my bio-hydraulics amped up my speed.

MOVE!” I yelled.

The pedestrians scattered away from the balcony. It groaned again, a screech to my amplified hearing. As I reached the area below it, the cracks shattered down the wall and the balcony tore away from its supports. I grabbed two people who were staring up with their mouths open and threw all of us to the side, covering them with my body as we crashed to the ground. A roar of breaking wood and stone thundered around us, and chunks bounced off my back. Clenching my teeth, I kept my position, protecting the people under me.

Within moments, the thunder eased into crashes, then thuds, then the sound of smaller debris hitting the street. When that stopped, I rolled off the couple and pushed up to my knees.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

They looked at me, dazed as they sat up. “Our son!” the woman said, her voice edged with panic. “Where is he?”

I looked around, trying to find a boy in the swirl of dust and rubble all around us. No one—

Ah. There. Ruzik stood outside the worst of the dust clouds, holding a small boy of about two cradled in his arms, a beautiful child with curly hair and a terrified look.

I pointed toward Ruzik. “Is that your son?”

“Yes!” The woman scrambled to her feet and the man jumped up. They ran toward Ruzik, and I strode after them, still in enhanced mode.

Max, I thought. Get me out of combat mode. I didn’t want to hit anyone.

Done, he thought.

As the couple reached Ruzik, he turned, his hair tousled, his clothes covered with dust from the broken tiles that fell with the balcony. He looked like some holo-vid hero, handsome and buff.

“Hoshma,” the toddler cried, reaching out his arms. “Hoshpa!” He started to cry.

Ruzik gave the boy to his mother, who had reached him first.

“Thank you.” Tears ran down her face. “Thank you so much. So very, very much.”

People gathered around them, blocking me from getting to Ruzik.

“I saw it!” another woman said. “He grabbed that boy right out from under the balcony.”

“You saved his life,” a man told Ruzik. “Saints above, man, how did you get out in time?”

Some woman thrust a holo-mic at Ruzik. “What’s your name?” She looked like a frazzled reporter who’d been lucky enough to be on the scene when the accident happened.

Shit! I tried to make my way forward. This got about as far from “nondescript” as you could go. Even worse, for her to ask Ruzik his name in public offered the height of insult.

“What?” Ruzik asked. He looked calm, but I recognized his tells. He was confused, unsure if he should take offense, if he should attack, or if he should hold back. He didn’t know how to respond, but at least he didn’t punch the reporter.

“He saved our son,” the father said. Tears ran down his face. Turning to Ruzik, he said, “Thank you. Thank you forever.”

“Are you with the city agents checking for damage from the explosion yesterday?” the reporter asked Ruzik. “They certified this place as safe.”

Yah, well, they’d certified wrong. I kept pushing my way forward and people kept getting in the way, trying to get closer to the hero of the moment.

“Who are you?” the reporter asked the still silent Ruzik.

He met her gaze. “Dust Knight. Protect.”

Ah, thank the gods. Everyone in the Undercity knew him as a leader among the Knights regardless of whether or not they knew his name. However, he had no idea he’d just made the Dust Knights, my private Undercity martial arts force, a public entity. If I knew anything about reporters and how they responded to handsome young heroes, news of the “Dust Knight” would spread across Selei City in no time.

I reached Ruzik’s side. “We just happened to be here when the balcony collapsed.”

“She saved our lives!” the woman holding the boy told the reporter. To me, she added, “I don’t know how we can ever thank you.”

“I’m just glad we could help.” I grabbed Ruzik’s arm. “My friend was hit by the debris. I need to get him to the hospital.”

“Not hit,” Ruzik muttered. Fortunately he used the Undercity dialect.

“I can’t figure your accent,” the reporter said. “Where are you from?”

Before I could intercede, Ruzik said, “Undercity,” all four syllables, one of the few words we used that way without mocking the word or its user. Undercity. It was his world. His pride. He had no idea what hell a reporter could make with that juicy factoid.

“We have to go,” I said. “My apologies. My associate needs the hospital.”

“I fine,” Ruzik growled under his breath.

“You should go too,” the father told me. He turned to the reporter. “She protected us. The debris slammed into her.”

Someone spoke at my side. “We can take you both to the hospital.”

With relief, I turned to see Lieutenant René Silvers, the ER I’d worked with yesterday. “Thank you,” I said under my breath.

“Clear the way, please,” she called to the growing crowd. “Let us through.”

People moved aside, but the reporter came with us. “I saw how fast you ran,” she told me. “You have biomech, right? Are you part of the response teams? Not many have biomech webs.”

I slipped back into the Undercity dialect. “Army.”

“What did you say?” She kept pushing her way through the crowd as Silvers led us toward a med flyer that had landed in the street. It impressed me. ER services here were fast.

“Please move back.” Silvers guided Ruzik and me to the flyer. “Let them through.”

Ruzik stared at the flyer as if he didn’t know what to do with it. I pushed him forward. “Get in,” I muttered.

“You come with?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Find Angel.”

“Angel fine.” He did a quick once-over of my disheveled self. “You come.”

“Fine.”

“Not fine.” He scowled. “I fine, too. You not go, I not go.”

Damn it. “Fine, I come. Still need Angel.”

“Angel smart. Find us.” He stepped up through the open hatch into the flyer and I followed.

“Everyone, please stay back,” Silvers was saying. “We’re going to take off.” As she spoke, she jumped in behind us. Within moments, we were airborne and safely away from the scene.

By then, however, it was too late to undo the damage.


“I’m fine!” I told the doctor, even as I rubbed my temples, trying to make my headache stop. Sitting on the edge of the bed here in the ER section of Selei Central Hospital didn’t help. I needed to be out finding what happened to Angel, not stuck here.

The doctor frowned at me. “You’re covered with bruises and gashes, not to mention you have a broken toe. Your biomech system shows signs of strain. Why didn’t you come into the hospital yesterday, after the explosion?”

“They checked me at the site,” I told her. “They set my toe.”

“Yes, well, they didn’t inject bone-repair meds.” To accent her words, she set an air syringe against my toe. It hissed as it delivered the meds to my body. “Don’t all those bruises hurt?”

“Not much.” I’d long ago grown used to bumps and cuts. “I’m good.”

She shook her head. “You stoic types drive me crazy. You make lousy patients.”

“Sorry. Is my friend okay?”

“He’s fine. He didn’t get any injuries. He won’t give us his name, however.”

I spoke carefully. “He comes from a culture where people don’t give their names unless they know you well. If you keep asking him, he’ll get angry.”

“Can you give us his ID?”

I crossed my arms. “I come from the same background.”

She glanced at the holo-mesh board she carried. “Major Bhaajan, private investigator. Holy shit. You work for the House of Majda?”

I have never understood, Max thought, why humans express surprise by declaring that excrement is sacred.

The doctor looked up at me. “You’re the PI they brought in for the technocrat case!”

I wished I could disappear. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make that public knowledge. I’m trying to keep a low profile. The more people who know who I am, the harder it is to do my work.”

“Very well.” She looked inordinately pleased with this turn of events, so much that she didn’t push about Ruzik’s ID. “I’ll tell the med-bot to arrange your discharge documents.” She flicked off her holopad. “Oh, I almost forgot. Your friend is waiting to see you.”

“You mean the Dust Knight?”

“Not the big fellow you came in with. A woman.” She looked disconcerted. “Just as big.”

Could Angel have somehow found us? “Let her in, please.”

She nodded and took her leave. A moment later Angel stalked through the door.

“You good?” she asked.

“Yah. Ruzik?”

“Ruzik fine. Wants to leave.”

I slid off the bed. “We go.” I regarded her. “How you find this place?” She had none of the tracking methods she needed to locate the hospital, no GPS, no finder, no mapper. Nothing.

“Asked person.”

“Oh.” I’d been using tech-mech too long. “Yah, that works.”

We left then, to find Ruzik and escape the hospital.


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Framed