“So the first thing you have to understand is how the Council works.”
It was late morning. They sat on opposite sides of the table, the polished lake of wood between them. At one end, a pot of coral tea on a ceramic base steamed gently. Outside, heavy fog obscured the city entirely. The apartment felt like an oasis.
Adelaide’s eyes were sore with tiredness, but the day’s agenda was full. She had people to see. She tied back her hair as though she was preparing for hands-on work. The action focused her mind. If she was going to help Vikram, and for today at least, that illusion must be maintained, then she had to dive deep into the recesses of memory. She must recover incidental conversations between her parents, old lectures from Linus. She must listen once more to her grandfather’s calm unhurried voice.
When the dawn came she had dozed for an hour or so, the gun still resting in her hand. She thought about barricading herself in until Vikram went away. But it was light. He had let her live. She put back the gun. This morning Vikram was uncommunicative; both the strange intimacy of last night and the nightmarish tension in the kitchen had all but vanished.
Adelaide reached behind her neck and unclasped a string of onyx beads. She arranged the necklace in a half circle. Then she took a ring off her middle finger and placed it under the arch.
“Here we have the Council, and here-” She touched the ring. “Is the Speaker. You probably stood on the podium just in front of him, right?”
Vikram nodded.
“The Council is like any other group. It has factions.” She unhooked an earring and put it at the left end of the beads. “Here sits my illustrious father Feodor, and his cronies.”
“Yes, I remember your father. I think he might remember me too.”
Abruptly Adelaide recalled the day she had gone to see Feodor. Hadn’t he said something about a westerner? The idea gave her a turn, almost as if they had met before, unwittingly. She tapped the earring with her forefinger.
“Feodor doesn’t like anything to disturb the perfect order of his world. And he has to think about saving face. When the Council first established the border, Feodor was one of the Councillors who spoke out strongly for it. Any step towards unification, however small, will be an admission that they, and he, made a mistake.”
Vikram’s eyes were watchful. She knew that he wouldn’t miss anything.
“Why did they do it?”
“What, divide the city?”
“Yes.”
Adelaide kept her tone brisk. “You know why, Vikram. The west got too violent. After what happened at the Greenhouse, the City didn’t have a choice. Harvests decimated, working citizens stabbed-I mean, there were children in there for stars’ sakes. Only three of them came out intact.”
Vikram scowled. “Conveniently.”
“What do you mean, conveniently?”
“I mean it’s convenient that when the ’seventy-seven riots started, the Council decided it was a great idea to let school parties wander round public buildings. Don’t you think?”
She stared at him. “You can’t accuse-”
“I’m not accusing.”
“What are you saying then?”
“I’m saying that it was a long time ago. You can’t know what really happened at the Greenhouse.”
“And I suppose you can’t know what really happened at Osuwa University, either. Perhaps that was allowed to happen too?” She strove to keep the anger out of her voice. Who was he to be lecturing her?
“No,” he said. “That was a few individuals in a militant group called the New Western Osiris Front, which got out of hand. But I can tell you exactly what happened afterwards. The sk-the Home Guard let Citizens into the refugee camps. They even loaned them some guns. And your people used them. Like toys. I don’t suppose anyone noticed if there were children around then.”
She picked up the onyx beads and let them clatter back, pointedly.
“Well, as you so rightly pointed out, I wasn’t there. You can’t blame me for what other people did. You asked me why the border was created and I told you.”
Vikram’s expression was almost mocking now.
“I know the official line. I’m interested in why your father came to that decision.”
“That depends upon who you ask,” said Adelaide. She was happier discussing her father. Feodor was easily culpable. “According to my brother Linus, there was a huge debate over the issue and Feodor felt some glimmer of guilt about it-they were refugees, after all, it wasn’t like the Council could ship them off somewhere else. But if you ask me, it was easy for Feodor. He was doing what he always does-protecting his interests. Now I’m telling you this, Vikram, not because I care, but so you know what you’re up against.”
“We’re,” he insisted. “What we’re up against.” He grinned. The expression was slightly startling. “You’ll be the next Grete Kaat.”
She dismissed this as too idiotic for words. “Grete Kaat was a criminal. She conspired to assassinate Alain and Helene Dumay. The parents of my compatriots.” Not that she had anything to do with the Dumay offspring, but Vikram did not know that.
“Grete Kaat was never proved guilty.”
“You believe she was innocent?”
“Do you really believe she was guilty?” he countered.
Adelaide gave him her blandest look. “Kaat is celebrated every year in the west for what she did.”
“I’m sure that’s what they tell you. Actually she’s celebrated for what she didn’t do. Kaat died in jail of pneumonia. The only reason she was locked up in the first place is because she’d expressed sympathies with the west in the past-the perfect scapegoat. That was the so-called evidence.”
Adelaide decided not to comment. She had better weapons at her disposal.
“I’ll tell you something ironic, shall I Vikram? My grandmother was a refugee. Second Grandmother that is. The first one died when Feodor was a child.”
Vikram’s face contracted. She had rattled him at last, although she was not sure now that it had been her intention. This kept happening with him, she thought. Things slipping out that she had not meant to say at all.
“Is that some kind of secret?”
“I’d hardly tell you if it was a secret. Don’t forget, west and City wasn’t an issue then. But imagine when Grandfather’s son grew up and joined the segregation movement. I think it broke his heart. Having said that, I didn’t see him jumping to live on the other side.”
“Didn’t he contest it? Your grandfather? Surely when his own wife-”
“No, no. My grandfather is the Architect, he was never on the Council. Feodor started that little dynasty. And besides, I don’t suppose Grandfather felt there was much choice, if they wanted to preserve anything of Osiris. Quite funny, really, isn’t it?”
She was speaking faster. It must be lack of sleep. After all, she had spent the night with a gun in her hand, it was hardly surprising if she was a little on edge.
Vikram looked at her straight on.
“Answer me something,” he said. “Do you honestly believe the border is right?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”
“Humour me.”
“I’m helping you, Vikram, because you helped me. But I’m not getting into discussions about morality with you.” She conjured her best mocking smile. “That’s not my style. Now, moving on from Feodor’s section-”
She slipped off a bracelet and laid it further along the beads.
“Here we have what I call the Executors-the departmental heads. Always look at the second row. That’s where the Board of Four sit, the top Ministers. First Security-supervises the Home Guard and the ring-net and the civilian police. Then Finance-responsible for maintaining the credit system, including the anon cash chips given to westerners, seeing as you’re not properly registered. After all, you can only get so far on peng.”
“Which is another thing that could be sorted out if the border went.”
“Are you listening to me or not?”
“I’m listening. I was just wondering how long you’d last if you had to barter for your fancy jewellery, that’s all.”
If he was trying to rile her, he was succeeding. But she refused to show it, and replied in her sweetest voice. “Luckily for both of us, that’s unlikely ever to be an issue, is it? Getting back to the Executors-after Finance comes Resources, who looks after greenhouse production, parts manufacture, and the mining operations.” She had an uneasy flashback to Linus’s speech, cast it quickly aside. “And then there’s Health and Science-self-explanatory. But also responsible for the meteorological facility up there.” She pointed to the ceiling. “You’ll notice that these four Ministers always get the people in the front row to speak for them. They don’t like getting their hands dirty.”
Vikram raised his eyebrows, pointedly.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just, coming from you…”
Was that a joke? She wondered.
“Actually, I don’t mind dirt. It’s people who piss me off.”
“You should come to the west some time,” he said.
“Maybe if we win.”
“Deal.”
“I think we’ve made enough deals, don’t you?” One look at his face told her this time he was definitely joking. “Oh. Very funny. Anyway, the Executors tend to be the ones to suggest any new laws, but it doesn’t happen often. They’ll be violently against you.”
Vikram rested his chin on one hand, looking at the beads.
“Do Citizens hate the west that much?”
The question surprised her. “Not hate, no. We don’t really think about you.” She considered for a moment. “I suppose it’s seen as a lost cause. We’ll have to pull out a few sob stories, Vikram, get the newsreels on side. Maybe you should tell them about Mikkeli. Do you have a photograph of her? A drawing?”
Vikram looked uneasy. He shook his head. His silence indicated her transgression more clearly than any words would have done. Adelaide took off another ring and placed it next to the bracelet.
“The liberal set. But rivals of Linus. They’re Nucleites-they believe we’re the last city on Earth,” she explained. Her other earring went beside the ring. “And Linus and co. Who are anti-Nucleite. They believe-”
“In survivors outside Osiris.” Vikram looked at her. “What are you?”
“Pro, of course. It’s only Linus who’s gone on this wacky spiritual kick. Why, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I don’t see things quite so black and white. Things are different in the west.”
Adelaide thought about Linus’s strange weather experiments. Less than a year ago she would have said he was mad, without question, but she knew better than anyone that madness could not be qualified.
“I suppose you think we should renew expeditions too.”
Vikram picked up the earring she’d just set down, toying with it. “That’s an interesting idea. Is that what your brother wants?”
“I don’t know what Linus wants,” she admitted. “But I can tell you one thing. Whatever he says or does, there’s an ulterior motive behind it.”
“How do you know all this, anyway?”
“It’s amazing what you hear once you’ve become an alcoholic.” Adelaide spoke flippantly, although she thought once more of her grandfather, and his patient, determined explanations to the twins. They used to have lunch once a month. But Leonid had grown frailer, he ventured out less, and then everything with Axel… their lunches had become infrequent.
She missed him.
“Can I have your watch?” she said.
Vikram undid the clasp and handed it over wordlessly. The steel links sat heavy in her palm. She placed the watch at the other end of the arch.
“My grandfather’s contemporaries. Old and mostly deaf, or they only hear the bits they want, which is my personal theory. They saw the City finished. They built it, really. And they don’t like it threatened.” She paused. “Have you thought about what you’re going to call yourself?”
“Yes. The New Horizon Movement.”
He said the name hesitantly, with a hint of shy pride. It must be important to him.
“Very ambitious,” she said. “And are there more of you?”
“There were. There will be.” He did not explain further. “How will you get me an address?”
She smiled serenely. “I have a plan.”
Vikram sat back and folded his arms, clearly appraising her. His watch ticked gently amongst the glittering collection of jewels. Neither of them had touched the tea.
“Are you helping me to get at your father?”
Adelaide was getting used to his directness. She thought about confronting him about his intentions last night, but did not quite dare. Today he needed her, but who knew how he would feel tomorrow?
“Sadly, getting at him usually means helping out Linus in some way. So it’s a catch-no-fish situation.”
He nodded, smiled to himself as though he found something funny. “Should have figured.”
She set up an account for Vikram on her Neptune and showed him the o’vis catalogue for when he got bored of working on his presentation. He displayed some signs of interest in that, asking her if she had Neon Age filmreels and what she would recommend. She found his enthusiasm oddly touching. She left him in the apartment and went to see Radir.
On the shuttle journey she thought about what she had uncovered so far. Axel was not in the hospitals; according to the official investigation, he was nowhere to be found in Osiris. A westerner had come to see him, an airlift. Axel had been planning something. He intended to make a balloon. She thought of Vikram’s story about the last balloon flight. A western thing, he said. Her brother must have heard the story from the airlift. No doubt the horses had told him to do it. Axel had gathered all the resources, but something had interrupted his plans.
Radir was the next card in the deck.
The psychiatrist’s office was in the northern quarter, on the tenth floor of a low rise scraper. It was a surprisingly industrial area for a private practitioner. The squat, adjacent pyramids housed on one side botanical gardens which grew the plants for cosmetics and anaesthetic, and on the other a reef farm.
The reef farm had been Adelaide’s favourite haunt as a teenager. She used to go there when she was angry. Axel used to go with her, although he would inevitably wander off to talk to one of the wardens or marine biologists. Not for the first time, she considered the irony that his last psychiatrist had been there all along, seeing patients in the tower next door.
The receptionist was easy. After a sharp knock on Radir’s door, Adelaide announced herself. “Good morning, Doctor.”
The psychiatrist, a large man with an arched nose and fair hair who had so far repelled all of Adelaide’s efforts to flirt with him, looked up and sighed. He did not seem surprised to see Adelaide. On the contrary, he had the expression of a man resigned to his fate.
“Good morning, Miss Rechnov.” His voice was mid-range, the sort of voice you trusted without asking why, although if Adelaide had been asked, she would have said she trusted his eyes. They were blue and turned down at the corners. Seeing him again in the flesh, the lack of resemblance between Radir and Sanjay Hanif could not have been more marked.
Adelaide slid into the seat opposite him with a charming smile. It was not returned. That was another reason she trusted Radir. She had no effect on him.
“You can call me Adelaide,” she said. “I told you that before.”
“Miss Rechnov,” he said implacably. “I must remind you that I have patients to see.”
“I’m aware of that, Doctor. I’m also aware that this is your lunch break. Now don’t think me amiss, but your receptionist was kind enough to get me a glass of water and I confess I did take a look at your appointment book whilst she was gone. You’re free until half fourteen.”
Radir tapped the activation strip of his Neptune with an air of finality, abandoning whatever he had been working on.
“I should also remind you, Miss Rechnov, that in light of the current investigation, I’m not sure you should be speaking to me.”
“Right,” said Adelaide. “Now we’ve got the formalities out the way. You may be wondering why I’ve come.”
“I have an inkling.”
“Well, Doctor, I suppose I want your opinion as to what has happened to my brother.”
She sat back casually, as though she had just remarked on the rising price of raqua, and crossed one leg over the other, waiting.
“I cannot possibly conjecture. My sessions with Axel were cancelled six months before he disappeared. Over that period, his state of mind may have undergone a drastic transformation, or none at all. You will remember our last conversation.”
Radir had said he felt sorry for her, a statement she had viewed as unforgivable at the time. The psychiatrist watched her, his face contemplative above his steepled hands. Adelaide found she did not care any more. He could think what he liked. He could pity her, if it would make him answer.
“Axel’s last session,” she said. “Were there any signs that he might be planning something?”
“You’ve had the report, Miss Rechnov. Your entire family has had the report, albeit via five separate requests.”
“It’s not the same as hearing about it. He came to see you here, didn’t he?”
Radir swivelled slightly in his chair so that he faced away from her. He might have been recalling the visit; he might have been absolving himself of responsibility for what he was about to say.
“Your girl, Yonna. She brought him. He exhibited no signs that it was under duress, appeared willing to be here. He was-as he always was with me-at times lucid and capable of maintaining a conversation. He called me Doctor, but did not know my name, or if he did, he chose not to use it. And then, as if a switch had been pressed, he would become completely absent for minutes at a time. Lost in his own world. Unresponsive.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Ordinary things, never specific people. The weather. The ocean. He often talked about the ocean, he said he liked to listen to its voice late at night.”
“Did he mean the horses?”
“I suspect it may have been one and the same to him.”
“Is, Doctor. It is.”
“My apologies, Miss Rechnov.”
“Did he ever mention a balloon?”
“Not that I recall.”
“You’re frowning, Doctor.”
“The balloon… Something about that word rings a bell. But not from my sessions with Axel. Perhaps another patient.”
“Did he-did he ever talk about leaving the City?”
“Not directly. I would say that Axel was aware of the City’s limitations, even in an abstract capacity. Osiris is too small, he said once. We think we’re free but we’re not.”
“What do you think he meant by that?”
“Feelings of entrapment are a common theme among those I see, Miss Rechnov. But I might add that we live in a quarantined city. Human beings are not designed for confinement, however vast and exquisitely made the prison; the explorer in us will out.”
She sat for a moment, considering this. What if Axel had met the airlift through Radir?
“Doctor, do you ever see airlifts? Ex-westerners?”
“I cannot give you information on my clients.”
“You know my family think he’s dead.”
Radir looked at her. She could see him selecting his words.
“Miss Rechnov, I am-saddened that I could not help your brother. As I have explained in the past, I could offer no diagnosis; Axel fit no specifications. Over the years I have seen patients who have, through various causes, withdrawn in some way from typical social interaction, for a longer or shorter period of time. Those who suffer post-traumatic stress, for example, following injury or a shocking incident, but sometimes there is no obvious trigger. The condition is a more common occurrence than you might expect, though it is rarely spoken of. Citizens of Osiris are survivors, are we not?”
His tone as he uttered that final sentence was gently ironic. Adelaide looked at the single picture on his wall, a swaying kelp field on the edge of the Atum Shelf.
“Is that not a positive trait, Doctor?”
“For some, doubtless. There are others who find it a source of pressure. In any case, whatever happened to Axel seemed to be an extreme form of this kind of internalization, and that, I feel, was a loss. To society as well as to the family.”
She nodded. In spite of the formality of his tone, she believed Radir was genuine. She folded her hands tightly.
“I know he’s alive. We have a connection, you see. Do you understand that, Doctor? Do you think it’s possible?”
She hated the plea in her voice, but she could not hide it. Radir showed no signs of sympathy. She was grateful for that.
“I believe that there are things which will never be mapped by science,” he said. “There are many that were once mapped and are now lost. But I also think, Miss Rechnov, that our society can be harsh, perhaps more condemning, of certain acts, than might be fair.”
Adelaide’s face went hot and her body chill.
“If you mean to imply, Doctor, that my brother might have committed-” She forced herself to speak the taboo. “ Suicide- you are very much mistaken. Axel would never humiliate himself in that way. And he would never leave me.”
She sensed that there was a weight of things behind Radir’s blue eyes. Things that he might or could have said, if pushed. Those unspoken words chased her as she scraped her chair back, got up, stuck out a formal hand and pressed her wrist to his too hard for politeness. They followed as she walked out of the office. They followed her into the lift where she punched in level twenty-four, stood rigid for the fourteen floors up to the Obelisk shuttle line, and stalked onto the platform.
Why not? said the voice. You left him.
/ / /
She felt muddled and angry all the way to the Southern Quarter. In transit it seemed that the shuttle pod stood still and the city itself was rushing towards her, pyramids, steel and bufferglass all flying upon the ocean surface, but the speed was not enough to abate her turmoil. She took out her anger by sending Lao an o’voy.
Any news? Am I not paying you enough?
She did not expect a reply but to her surprise, her scarab flashed almost instantaneously.
Paying me to be discreet. Therefore will contact only when news. I’ll be in touch.
She replied:
Been to see Dr Radir. Check his client list. He might have seen a westerner.
There was no return message. Moving her bag to accommodate another passenger, Adelaide struggled to assemble her thoughts. This next negotiation required careful handling. She had to put Axel aside, for now.
“Excuse me?” It was the woman who had sat next to her. “Can I have your signature?”
Adopting a gracious smile, Adelaide signed her name in green ink.
“I loved that garden you designed for the medical school,” said the woman. Adelaide was tempted to tell her that the garden had come from a series of doodles on restaurant napkins whilst she was waiting for Jannike, nothing more, but if the woman wanted to think of Adelaide as a landscape designer, so be it. Adelaide liked plants. She liked the feel of earth crumbling in her fingers; she liked its dank alien smell. Plants behaved as you expected them to.
The Daily Flotsam offices were undersea and windowless and smelled of perspiration overlaid with heavy perfume. At sixteen o’clock, the place was a tip. Dirty Neptunes balanced on desks overflowing with Surfboards, wrappers, BrightEye pills and mouldering tea glasses. A screen on one wall showed the latest feeds from rival press groups. Nobody recognized Adelaide when she first walked in, then the whole office reacted towards her; a sea of sunk conversations and swivelling heads.
“I’m looking for Magda,” she said.
One of them moved. Over the years their faces had changed, but the avaricious hunger had not. Adelaide no longer cared what they wrote about her. She only cared about what they had done to her twin. Odd lines-the things she hadn’t been able to avoid, still stuck. Is Axel Rechnov sick in the head? That was one of Magda’s. Looking about, she was able to match each headline to its creator.
Silence endured until the door to the inner office opened and Magda Linn looked out. When she saw Adelaide a smile spread across her face, slowly, like clotting butter.
“Well, well, well,” she said. “Little fishy’s come to play with sharks.”
Magda’s office was surprisingly clean. Her Neptune had a bright red frame and was unadorned. The editor sat at her desk and waved an arm at the chair opposite. Both women crossed their legs.
“Adelaide.”
“Magda.”
“What can I do for you?”
For a woman with a penchant for character defamation, Magda Linn looked remarkably innocent. She was small and neat, with straight black hair and low eyelids. Her right hand sported a scratched glass ring with which she toyed incessantly. Adelaide hated every inch of her neatly proportioned features. It was difficult to look Magda in the face without conveying this, so Adelaide examined the wall behind her.
“I heard you wanted access to a few events.”
“And I dare say I’ll get it.”
“I don’t know. The Haze has had enough security issues recently. This season we’re really clamping down.”
“My reporters will have to become more ingenious.”
“Maybe so. But they’ll have to be remarkably wily to get into Jannike Ko’s twenty-second.” Adelaide paused. “Private party,” she said blankly.
For a brief moment, Adelaide felt bad about offering up her friend as bait. But Jan could handle it.
“Jannike Ko’s twenty-second,” Magda said slowly. Her smooth face could not help but flicker at the thought. Adelaide knew she was imagining the newsreel, constructing, already, the headline copy. Jannike Ko, last of the Haze to come of age, could supply Magda with enough subreels to keep her afloat for the next year. Then Magda’s face closed down again.
“What do you want, Adelaide?”
“I want you to do what you are best at, Magda. I want you to lie.”
“I see. And what type of lying might you require?” Magda tapped her ring against the edge of her desk. “Some light slander before breakfast? How about a nice little libel case?”
“No, that doesn’t serve my purpose. I’m after something simpler. The Council will be holding a convention next week to discuss the implementation of western aid schemes. I’d like you to announce it.”
Magda’s expression was pure disbelief.
“The Council?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Since when have you been interested in the Council?”
“Since today, Magda.”
“And why would you be interested in aid schemes?”
“I don’t see why that would concern you. The request is simple enough, is it not?”
“You’d give me access to Jannike Ko’s twenty-second in exchange for a little article on aid schemes?”
“A big article, Magda. A headline article. I’ll be invoking the Ibatoka Clause-you can say that too.”
Magda laughed. “The what?”
“Why don’t you look it up?” Adelaide suggested.
“If I don’t know what it is it’s not headline material,” Magda shot back. “You coming to my office asking for help, now that’s headline material.”
“Come on Magda. You know you love the Council. Miserable old octopuses, promoting unprecedented aid schemes. You’re telling me you can’t make something juicy out of that? Spin it whichever way you like, I don’t care.”
Magda scraped the ring against her front teeth.
“Jannike Ko only turns twenty-two once,” Adelaide mused.
“Well, I suppose we could run with a riot containment theme. There have been… flickers. A profile of one of the Home Guard might of interest.”
“No Home Guard. How about a neglect and sob story piece?”
“Yes, thank you, I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.”
“Do excuse me. I’ve been the subject of your job for so long, sometimes I feel I know it as well as you do.”
Both women sat back, assessing one another.
“What guarantee do I have that you’ll keep your word?”
“I don’t give guarantees,” said Adelaide.
“I could turn this whole industry against you.”
Adelaide pretended to give this a second’s thought.
“I doubt that. On the other hand, I could get you fired in the time it takes to do this.” She snapped her fingers. “Still a Rechnov, Magda. Now. Do we or do we not have a deal?”
Magda gnawed on the ring.
“Make sure you check the morning feed.”
“Good.” Adelaide stood up. “I’ll see myself out, shall I?”
The knock at the door was insistent. She went to answer it, muttering to herself about people who couldn’t wait. Axel stood grinning in the corridor. He strolled into the apartment, a half-smoked cigarillo dangling from his lips.
“Is that the time?” he said. The cigarillo waggled comically in his mouth. “Must have been gone longer than I thought.”
“Months, actually,” she said. “Where were you, the western quarter or what?”
“Oh, this and that. Baiting Linus. Annoying Dmitri with my expenses. Why, A, did you miss me?”
She woke with a jolt and found herself on the futon, fully dressed. For a minute she thought it was raining again, but it was just the noise of Vikram’s fingers on the activation strip of her Neptune.
“Evening,” he said.
“Did I sleep?”
“Yes. You got about halfway through telling me about going to the Daily Flotsam. Linus called, by the way.”
She rubbed her eyes. They were prickly with sleep.
Hell’s tide! She was beginning to wake up. Last night this man had wanted to kill her. Today she was falling asleep in the same room.
But she wasn’t scared any more. She sensed that a line had been crossed.
“What did Linus want?”
“To let you know he’d had a message from some woman called Linn asking about a conference.”
She smiled at that. “Good. We’re going to force their hand.”
And why are you trying to help him, Adelaide?
“There’s some fresh coral tea if you want.”
“What’s the time?”
“Twenty-one thirty.”
“Shit. Said I’d meet Jannike for dinner. You coming?”
“I’ve got a presentation to write.”
“It’s your call.”
Vikram hadn’t woken her for Linus’s message. She could not decide if that was a good thing or not. She perched on the futon to pull on her boots, sneaking surreptitious glances at his thin angular figure, tensed over the Neptune. Her laces were tangled and it took her a few minutes to work out the knots.
There was no time for tea so she took a shot of voqua, aware that Vikram’s eyes were on her, nervous in a way she could not pin down. If those eyes held a different light, they might draw her right in.
Better pull yourself together, girlie. You might not be as strong as you think you are.
The lift came almost immediately when she called it, from the floor above. The man inside held the door for her.
“Good evening, Miss Rechnov.”
She noticed a funny motif on the collar of his shirt; a white winged insect. One of the facility crowd. What the hell did they do up there, anyway? Was it really astronomy, or some kind of dubious experimentation? She felt the voqua burn down her gullet and wondered if the man could see it, like a red streak down her neck.
“Evening,” she acknowledged.
“Please, give my regards to the Architect.”
She nodded. The lift plummeted. It was a good thing Vikram wasn’t coming. He was too unpredictable. She would have to babysit him all night and besides, Tyr was going to be out. She was conscious of an overwhelming desire to have Tyr’s arms around her while he told her that all would be well, that everything would work out, as he had the day after Axel evicted her from the penthouse. She felt as though she was carrying the weight of a colossal secret, and yet the truth was she knew nothing at all.