Deserter (26 page)

“What did she tell you about her attackers?” Jack asked.

“They shouted, ‘Wardie scum’ and other epithets. It was an attack on her as a representative of her government.”

“Not as a part of our team?”

“Impossible to tell,” the cop answered the cop.

“She got too close to a Goddamn Longknife,” Kris whispered.

“Too early to say,” the Inspector insisted.

“But a safe bet.” Kris swallowed a dry snicker. “Inspector, get her out of here. I want her safe in my suite topside.”

“She is safe here,” he said with firm professionalism.

“You want to bet me tomorrow something won’t come up that puts her outside any protection you can arrange?”

Klaggath worried his lower lip. “This morning I thought I had you all protected.” He sighed. “I’ll talk to the Doctor.”

“I’ll talk to Penny,” Kris said. In the room, Tom was carefully stroking Penny’s hair. “Penny, you mind if we check you out of here? I want my team close.”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, Your Highness, I’d kind of like to be close to Tom.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Kris said, giving both her friends the encouraging smile they wanted from her and backing out of their space. She found Klaggath down the hall, arguing with two white-coated women.

“We need to keep her under observation,” one said.

“She’s had a very rough night,” put in the other.

“That’s rather obvious,” Kris said dryly. “Klaggath, can you arrange for a full-time nurse?”

“Already have one on call. She’ll meet us at the elevator.”

Kris turned on the two docs and put on her best royal smile. “Lieutenant Pasley wants to check out. We have made arrangements for her care out of the Hilton on High Turantic.”

The older Doctor pursed her lips in indecision. “She needs full-time care.”

“We will provide it.”

“She’s been badly beaten,” the other pointed out.

“The Navy takes care of its own,” Kris said flatly.

“Didn’t do so good this evening,” the younger said.

“We won’t make that mistake twice,” Kris said, glancing at Klaggath. The Inspector nodded.

“If she wants out, we can’t keep her,” the older doc finally agreed. “We’ll get her a few days’ meds from the pharmacy and some instructions on care. She shows any change in her condition, and you get her to a doc immediately.”

“That we will do,” Kris agreed.

An hour later, with Penny in a wheelchair and Tom pushing her and reacting to any sudden intake of breath as if it hurt him twice as much, they made their escape. Klaggath had not only the regular detail but uniformed cops as well checking every avenue.

They made it back to the Hilton with only one distraction. Ambassador Middenmite called to decry missing Kris on the presidential yacht that morning and to ask her to make up for all the connections she had missed, hands she’d failed to shake, and pecks on the cheek she’d dodged by showing up at a ball tomorrow. The guy was completely clueless. “Yes, I’ll be there,” Kris snapped to end the call.

In the suite, the nurse took over caring for Penny, though Abby seemed just as able and better supplied from her trunks than the nurse was from her traveling bag. They settled Penny in Tom’s room with him and the nurse doing a full vigil. Tom’s eyes never left Penny; she kept a hand on him. And Kris knew she was giving them what they longed for, the closeness that would form a bond with
forever
written all over it.
Looks like another bridesmaid dress in my future.
Kris sighed.
I should have told Tom. What? That I love him? Do I? Did I? Does it matter now?

Kris slipped away to her bedroom like a good friend and turned out the light. Kris left a wake-up call with Nelly for five A.M., lay on her back, and tried to ignore the day.

14

Kris was late for something: class or a rally or duty. She raced down a long hallway trying every door she came to. Some were locked. Others opened. There was Eddy or Mother or Father or Grampa Trouble, each mad at her for interrupting them, not doing what she was supposed to do. She ran, trying more doors. She had to find Nelly. Nelly was important. Nelly and . . .

IT’S FIVE, DO YOU WANT TO WAKE UP? Nelly asked quietly.

Kris lay in bed, sweating as her heart slowed to merely pounding. NELLY, DID YOU DO THAT?

DO WHAT?

MAKE ME DREAM LIKE THAT?

I DO NOT THINK SO.

Kris heard the reply and the ambiguity in it. NELLY, HAVE YOU BEEN MESSING . . . NO, DOING ANY TESTING ON THE CHIP AUNTIE TRU ADDED TO YOU?

YES.

I TOLD YOU NOT TO.

YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU COULD NOT RISK ME FAILING YOU NOW. I UNDERSTAND THAT AND HAVE BEEN EXTREMELY CAREFUL WITH MY TESTING.

I HAVE HAD BAD DREAMS, NELLY, WHENEVER I SLEEP PLUGGED IN TO YOU. I AM GETTING SOME KIND OF FEEDBACK FROM THE CHIP.

THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE, KRIS. I HAVE ONLY LOOKED AT DATA IN THE FIRST BUFFER SAM DESIGNED. I HAVE ALLOWED NOTHING IN THE SECOND OR THIRD BUFFER. THERE COULD BE NO LEAKAGE.

MY DREAMING TELLS ME THERE IS SOME KIND OF LEAKAGE.

KRIS, THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE. YOU ARE WRONG.

INTERESTING WORDING FOR A COMPUTER, Kris thought for the far-too-manyith time. Nelly had been acting . . . interesting. Kris had thought it was the most recent upgrade. Now she had to consider the chip. But Nelly refused to consider the chip.

NELLY, I AM HAVING STRANGE DREAMS JUST LIKE GRAMPA RAY TALKED ABOUT WHEN HE WAS HAVING PROBLEMS ON SANTA MARIA. I DON’T KNOW HOW THE CHIP MIGHT BE DOING IT. IT IS AN ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY. I REALLY NEED TO BE ABLE TO DEPEND ON YOU RIGHT NOW. WE ARE IN REAL TROUBLE. WOULD YOU PLEASE NOT TEST THE CHIP?

KRIS, THE CHIP IS FULLY BUFFERED.

I KNOW, NELLY. BUT HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN MY DREAMS?

I HAVE NEVER UNDERSTOOD DREAMS, OR SLEEP FOR THAT MATTER.

NELLY, TRUST ME. THE TESTING IS MAKING IT IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO SLEEP.

YOU DO NOT NEED TO SLEEP WITH ME PLUGGED IN.

RIGHT, BUT I NEED YOU DURING THE DAY.

CAN I TEST AT NIGHT?

I REALLY WISH YOU WOULDN’T.

IF YOU SAY SO, KRIS, I WILL STOP TESTING UNTIL WE CAN DISCUSS THIS WITH TRU AND SAM.

THANK YOU, NELLY. Now all Kris had to worry about was whether or not the chip had already done something to her computer. What a wonderful start to the day.

Kris slipped out of bed, pulled on a sweatsuit, and tiptoed to Abby’s room. The maid uniform was set neatly atop one of the trunks beside a brown raincoat and a shoulder purse. Today could be a quiet day of running errands. It might turn into a run for her life. Back in her room, Kris located the body stocking in the bottom of one bureau drawer and pulled it on carefully. She added the undies from that oh-so-long-ago walk through Katyville as well as the shoes. The brown uniform went on easily over that. She put on the beret and managed to merge its line out into Nelly’s with no trouble. The raincoat covered everything; the purse held a makeup kit fit for a spy. WHERE ARE THE NANOS? Kris asked.

I PARKED THEM UNDER THE EPAULETS OF THE RAINCOAT.

VERY GOOD. I THINK I’M READY TO GO.

I AGREE.

Not sure how to take her computer’s approval, Kris stepped from her room and closed the door. As she turned, the lights came up in the living room; Jack sat on the couch, legs crossed, face grim. Silent, he pointed her to a place on the couch.

Kris took the offered seat. For a long minute, the two of them eyed each other in wordless challenge.

“It’s not safe down there,” Jack finally whispered.

“I’ll be careful.”

“There’s a party tonight.”

“I’ll be back in time.”

Jack mulled that for a while. “I could call the guards.”

“And we’d know nothing more about this hand we’re playing, or what deck Sandfire is stacking. We stay ignorant, we lose.”

“I could go.”

That stopped Kris for a moment. “Only Nelly can control the nanos. You’d have to do a lot more talking than I will.”

“Then I go with you.”

“Jack, that just doubles the chance of failure. You answer the door here, and they’ll assume I’m here. We both go . . .”

Jack scowled. “You get yourself beat up, and they’ll never let me work with you again.”

That one gave Kris pause. She’d never considered that they might punish Jack for what she did. Would they be punishing Jack or punishing her? She’d never let on just how much she liked having Jack around. She’d have to think about that, but not now.

“I’ll be careful,” she said, standing.

Jack reached for her hand. She pulled it back; he turned his hand over, showing a wad of bills. “You’ll need this.”

Kris pocketed the money and made her way to the door. Tom’s room was closed, no way to see how Penny was doing. She opened the door only enough to slip out . . . and found herself facing a guard standing across from her. He frowned a question at her. Kris pulled her raincoat closed over her maid’s uniform, stifled a yawn, and mumbled, “Long night.”

The guard’s frown deepened for a second, then his face went neutral, and Kris could almost hear him ordering himself to forget he’d ever seen a maid slipping out of this suite so early in the morning. Such was the privilege of people who lived in such suites. They could make common folks in brown maid uniforms vanish from other people’s sight. Kris had a lot of thinking to do when this was over.

Pulling her beret farther down, Kris hurried for the freight elevator. That took her inward to a service area in what would have been a basement anywhere dirtside. A break and change room was on her right, the rear of the kitchen to her left, sending forth quite different aromas from those blown into the dining room. A new shift was coming on; Kris slipped by them, head down. There must have been enough staff turnover; no one remarked on her. She was quickly out the back door into a service corridor that stank of garbage and had just been hosed down. She followed this alleyway, gray-sided with color-coded pipes overhead, to a service slide way. It took her down to Stop One—Elevator Access. Kris paid cash for her ticket and found an out-of-the-way seat on the ferry’s main deck.

“Money,” she whispered to herself. She had her credit chit, but that would leave a golden trail right to her. How could she have forgotten something as basic as money?
Easy, kid. You never lacked for it,
she scowled to herself.

Halfway down, she stopped in the ladies’ room to put on makeup. Powder darkened her skin. A pencil added worry lines to her forehead and mouth. Mascara made her eyes wider, and contacts made them brown. A puffy nose, mole on her right forehead and left cheek should throw off face analysis software if she remembered to suck in her full lips. Hunching her shoulders and stooping to shorten her height, Kris left the rest room, passed through the dining area, and climbed to the observation deck. As was usual on the Wardhaven ferry, this early among the working folks, it was pretty empty. Kris settled into a corner, opened an abandoned newspaper from yesterday, and tried to observe the five other people in view without being obvious.

She didn’t have to worry; all five were stretched out on seats, dead to the world. After a moment, Kris stretched out, merging into their tiny herd. She followed when landing bells awoke them and sent them yawning for the exits. Beret down, coat held close, she slumped her way through the terminal and out onto Heidelburg’s streets. NELLY, WE’LL NEED A CAB.

I SUSPECTED YOU WOULD WANT TRANSPORTATION TODAY. TURN RIGHT; A CAB WILL DRIVE BY SOON.

Kris followed Nelly’s instructions. Half a minute after she began walking down Second Street, an orange cab drove past her and pulled over to the curb. Abu Kartum got out, leaned against his car, and began to whistle something that sounded vaguely Irish.

HERE’S OUR RIDE FOR THIS MORNING, Nelly said.

NELLY, I DON’T WANT THIS POOR MAN IN THIS MESS.

WE CAN ARGUE LATER WHEN WE ARE IN THE CAB. I SUGGEST YOU TELL HIM YOU NEED A RIDE HOME.

AUNTIE TRU IS DEFINITELY HEARING ABOUT THIS AS SOON AS WE GET BACK, Kris told her computer but kept a plaintive smile on her face. “I need a ride home. I’m feeling kind of wobbly.”

“You spitting up blood?” Abu said, edging away from her.

Damn, I forgot about the Ebola thing.
“No fever. I think it was something I ate,” Kris said, rubbing her tummy.

That seemed to satisfy him. He opened the door for her. “Where to?”

NELLY!

“Two nine six four,” Kris repeated as Nelly fed her an address, “Northwest 173rd Street.”

“You live a long way out to work on the beanstalk.”

“I usually take the, er . . . trolley,” Kris said as Nelly provided the word for local mass transit.

“It’ll be a bit of a drive. I’ll try to cut you a deal. Slump down so a taxi cop doesn’t get me,” the man said as he put the cab in gear without touching the meter.

“Thank you,” Kris said and tried to make herself smaller.

“I know you?” the cabby said, glancing in a mirror that let him see his fare.

“I don’t think so. I don’t take the cab very often.”

“But you did last week.”

“I doubt it.”

“I don’t forget hats. Not beanies with fancy pom-poms.”

“I just got it at a secondhand store.”

“Yeah, and I got my draft notice in yesterday’s mail.”

“Draft notice?” Kris hadn’t heard about that. Then again, how long had it been since she’d asked Nelly for a news update?”

“Yeah, come any planetary emergency as announced by the government, I’m expected to report for weapons training. Me with six kids to feed, and I’m going to be out of my cab and learning how to shoot a gun. You know what they’re going to pay me?”

“No.”

“Neither do I. Nothing on the news. Nothing in the letter they sent me. Nothing my eldest boy could find on the net. It’s just here, and it’s like no one knows anything about it.”