The Peyti Crisis: A Retrieval Artist Novel: Book Five of the Anniversary Day Saga (Retrieval Artist series 12) (40 page)

“I’m am not sure the DNA was sold,” Uzvuyiten said. “Remember, there is a Human-Peyti relations department within the Security Division. Therefore, there would be Peyti working in the unit.”

“I assume other species would work in the Forensic Wing,” Salehi said. “Not every death investigated by the Security Division is human.”

“But it is against religions or cultural customs, sometimes against agreements made with the Alliance, for all species to be evaluated forensically. The human habit of autopsy, of examining the dead, is offensive to many many cultures, and impossible with some species.”

Uzvuyiten pressed his hands together again, probably so that he could proceed into a new lecture, one Salehi didn’t want to hear. He’d read cases about some species whose bodies simply disintegrated upon death, causing all kinds of legal problems in human-based murder cases.

“I know,” Salehi said. “But the Peyti—”

“Are employees in the wing. I doubt they are the source,” Uzvuyiten said.

“Because you’ve investigated them?” Salehi asked.

“Yes,” Uzvuyiten said. “That much we could do.”

“Meaning there was something you couldn’t do,” Salehi said.

“We have been unable to compare the DNA from the arrested clones—our so-called clients—to the DNA available through the forensic wing.”

“You believe there would be a difference?” Salehi asked.

“The Wing adds a tiny tag to the DNA that does not change how the DNA works. It’s an internal marker, known to very few people.”

“Yet you know it,” Salehi said.

Uzvuyiten inclined his head. “It factored into a case I worked on as a young attorney, decades ago. I checked: practices have not changed since then.”

“I take it, then, that you have the DNA from the lab?” Salehi asked.

Uzvuyiten closed his eyes slowly, a sign of impatience from a Peyti. Salehi wished he had phrased the question differently, because he knew how Uzvuyiten was going to answer.

“I do not,” Uzvuyiten said in his precise way, which was exactly what Salehi expected. “However, I have confirmed that the Forensic Unit has Uzvekmt’s DNA, and I have confirmed that it has been tagged. Now we just need DNA from the Peyti clones imprisoned on the Moon to test against it.”

“No one has sent that to Alliance Security Department?” Salehi asked.

“So far, the case is not theirs. The Moon’s security office is handling everything or the local police are, as you well know.” Uzvuyiten stared at him, as if Salehi had been stupid.

But he hadn’t been. He would have assumed that any law enforcement organization would have sent the clone DNA to the Alliance lab for testing, just to find the source of the DNA. They’d had nearly a week to do anything before S
3
enjoined them from acting.

“Huh,” Salehi muttered, mostly to himself. “We might be able to find the masterminds before the authorities do.”

“Yes,” Uzvuyiten said in such a calm tone that Salehi came out of his reverie.

He stood. He obviously wasn’t the only one gathering information without the help of the other.

“You knew this when you brought us in,” he said.

“Technically,” Uzvuyiten said, “
I
did not, but the government officials who hired you did.”

“If all the government of Peyla wanted was the DNA, then they should have asked for that, rather than the custody of the clones,” Salehi said.

“The problem with you, as both a man and a lawyer,” Uzvuyiten said, “is that you often speak before you think.”

Salehi’s breath caught. He’d heard that accusation before, and he had done his best to make certain that he would change that side of himself. When he practiced regularly, he had curbed the tendency. But right at the moment, he was thinking aloud, and thinking aloud made him say somethings that made him seem incautious.

“If,” Uzvuyiten said, “the government of Peyla had simply asked S-Three to help them acquire the DNA, how would you have done it?”

Salehi almost answered that S
3
would have asked for the samples to rule out any custody issues with the government of Peyla. But that might have opened the government up to liability. If it had clones of Uzvekmt somewhere or DNA and it hadn’t controlled the DNA or the clones, then the government might have been liable for the attacks.

“Now, you’re beginning to see the issues. By having the government claim an interest, and enjoining law enforcement from any further work until we arrive, we protect the government of Peyla.”

“And if we find the masterminds in the meantime,” Salehi said slowly, “we negate the liability before it can be raised.”

“Precisely,” Uzvuyiten said. “However, we have our fingers in, as you humans say, because we can also claim that these crimes had a negative impact on all Peyti, and so we have an interest there.”

Salehi let out an exasperated breath. “Why didn’t you just tell me this at the beginning?”

“And point your prodigious brain in a single direction?” Uzvuyiten said. “That would be foolhardy. You have already come up with several different plans of attack that none of us would have ever thought of. Your passion for clone law alone intrigues me, at least, and makes handling such reprehensible clients much easier.”

Salehi frowned at Uzvuyiten. Salehi hadn’t realized how much the clones disgusted Uzvuyiten until now.

Of course they did. The attempted mass murder, the potential suicides, the crimes were reprehensible enough, but they had been committed by Peyti, who always held themselves to a high ethical standard. More importantly, they had been committed by Peyti
lawyers
.

“Did you know any of these clones?” Salehi asked Uzvuyiten.

Salehi couldn’t quite believe that he hadn’t thought to ask before. It would be a logical question, particularly after Uzvuyiten’s mention of the Peyti law schools.

Uzvuyiten bowed his head just once, an acknowledgement that didn’t look nearly as awkward as his nods.

“I met just one of the lawyers, at least that I know of,” Uzvuyiten said. Salehi was glad that Uzvuyiten hadn’t mocked him for failing to ask the right question first. “We were on opposite sides as junior lawyers on a case involving a major Alliance corporation that had ties to Peyla.”

“Did you know this lawyer well?” Salehi asked.

“No,” Uzvuyiten said, “and before you ask your next question, I am taking this case personally, but not in the ways you think. I see no reason to defend these clones beyond the legal reasons you and I have already worked through. I do take several things personally. In particular, I am angered that the Moon’s authorities are using these events as an excuse to ban Peyti from their ratty little cities. I foresee great problems for my people in times to come if we do not find the masterminds—as you call them—soon.”

“The government of Peyla took a risk, hiring S-Three,” Salehi said. “It might make the Peyti discrimination worse.”

Uzvuyiten stood.

“Perhaps,” he said. “But that will only add to our ability to argue the case.”

“You think these clones know even more, don’t you?”

“I do not know what they know,” Uzvuyiten said. “I would not try to guess. I do believe, however, the sooner we can identify who created them, the sooner we can take some of the blame from all Peyti.”

“But you believe there’s Peyti involvement,” Salehi said.

“And human involvement,” Uzvuyiten said. “By traitors. As soon as we identify them, then the loyal members of the Earth Alliance, like the citizens of Peyla, will not be targeted any longer.”

Salehi bit back his response. Uzvuyiten understood some things about humans but not all. It would be easy for humans to blame only a single human criminal for his own actions and, at the same time, blame all Peyti for the actions of a single Peyti criminal.

“We’re not going to the Moon to work miracles,” Salehi said.

“Really?” Uzvuyiten braced himself on the wall as if he had momentarily grown dizzy. “Because it seems to me you want a miracle.”

“I do?” Salehi asked.

“You want the Earth Alliance to accept clones as equals,” Uzvuyiten said. “Which might have been possible two years ago. Now? After all these attacks? It’ll never happen.”

Salehi crossed his arms. “If the Earth Alliance unifies clone law,” he said, “then attacks like the ones the Moon suffered might never happen again.”

“Idealist,” Uzvuyiten snapped, and walked out of the room.

Salehi watched him go.

“Yeah,” Salehi said softly. “We both are.”

FORTY-FIVE

NYQUIST TURNED HIS back on Uzvaan. He could still see the bastard’s reflection in that weird clear bubble wall or maybe in the blue liquid. To Nyquist’s left, the two android guards stood in the tunnel, hands clasped in front of them, eyes watching his every move.

Could they see his distress? Did they understand it?

An apology from Uzvaan would have felt terrible, slight, an insult, like Uzvaan said. But refusing to apologize felt even worse. And putting his own existence above Nyquist’s—well, it was a good thing they weren’t at the precinct, because Nyquist might have tried to pull Uzvaan out of his chair—not because Nyquist would have forgotten that Uzvaan was cuffed to the chair, but because he would want the strain on Uzvaan’s slender twig-like arms.

“It is not personal,” Uzvaan said.

“Yes, it is,” Nyquist said.

“It was not meant to be. I did not know that I would have relationships with people on the Moon. I did not know that such things were possible.”

Nyquist could hear the pleading in Uzvaan’s voice. The bastard was trying to tell him something.

The bastard obviously had something to tell.

“I can’t make a deal,” Nyquist said. He did not turn around. “And I doubt I’ll be able to come back, now that you told me about Palmette.”

There was a long silence. The sketchy reflection of Uzvaan moved. His head was bowed, his body hunched. He had no idea that Nyquist could see him.

Uzvaan was broken; he was just doing his best to keep up a good front.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice still strong despite his posture, “you could argue for better living conditions for me?”

Not a demand any more. Uzvaan was begging. Nyquist hadn’t expected that, particularly from the arrogant lawyer he had known.

“I can’t do that,” Nyquist said. “You’re a clone. You’re lucky they’ve put you in a cell.”

He didn’t have to explain further. Uzvaan knew. He was property, and as such, no laws governed his stay here. He didn’t have to be fed or provided a place to sleep or even the proper environment. He had no rights at all.

Uzvaan didn’t say anything. His posture didn’t change. For the longest moment, Nyquist thought their negotiation was done. And he would leave it at that; he would tell DeRicci that he couldn’t get information out of Uzvaan, but he had a sense someone else might be able to.

Then it would be their problem.

“If you change my status,” Uzvaan said, “I’ll tell you everything.”

“I told you,” Nyquist snapped. “I can’t do anything for you. You’re a clone.”

“I meant my clone status,” Uzvaan said. He had come to the only place that Nyquist could negotiate, and he had done it all on his own. Nyquist wished he could say he had planned it, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t been able to utter the words first.

He didn’t want to offer the bastard anything.

“If I can get you registered in this prison as a Peyti, you’ll tell me everything,” Nyquist repeated, deliberately misunderstanding Uzvaan’s request.

“If you can get my status changed legally,” Uzvaan said. “If I permanently become Peyti, a true individual, I will tell you everything.”

“I can’t do that,” Nyquist said, and it was true.
He
couldn’t do it. But he had been authorized to do so, and he knew DeRicci could.

Still, he wasn’t going to give Uzvaan anything without having Uzvaan work for it.

“Your people can,” Uzvaan said. “I’m pretty sure the security chief, DeRicci, can do it without even approaching a court. I can—”

“You can do nothing.” Nyquist turned. “You realize that if I can get someone to grant this idiotic request, you’ll be tried for attempted murder. You won’t get a pardon, and you’ll spend decades—however long you bastards live—in this prison. Unless you’re put to death under Alliance law. Because every single species is going to want to try you for attempting to kill its people. Every single one. You’ll be the representative of the Peyti Crisis. All of the hatred that exists out there toward you clones will be directed at you personally.”

Uzvaan raised his head. Not all the way, not that proud look that Nyquist had seen earlier, just a tired movement, then a nod of acknowledgement.

“I have found, oddly enough, that I do not want to die. Your sense of me was correct, Bartholomew. I am not a suicide bomber.”

“No,” Nyquist said. “You’re a failed one. You tried to set off that bomb.”

“Yes,” Uzvaan said. “I did. It was a condition of my existence.”