Exodus, page 18
While they were in the Privy Council chamber, Otylia had organized one of the guest suites in the family wing of the palace. When Ellie and Josias finished enthusing over the size and decadence of their new quarters, the four of them sat on the veranda of Finn’s apartment, looking out over the lower domes of the palace and the city beyond.
“Oh, we got it,” Finn told her.
“She said she’d think about it.”
“That’s Mummy’s way of saying: fuck yeah!” Otylia said with a smirk.
“Really?”
“She’ll take a week before you’re summoned to be told she’s graciously agreed. Everything has to be considered, weighed and measured, then compared to precedent. But yes. For all she is rigid about the correct way things must be done, she’s not stupid. Adding an economic asset on this scale will contribute to the stability of life on Gondiar, and that’s our family’s reason for existence.”
“Because stability is the singular goal of the queens,” Finn added. He lifted up his flute of sparkling wine. “Therefore it is the goal of the Jalgori-Tobu family. Here’s to our noble rule.”
“Guidance,” Otylia said as they clinked glasses. “We guide under the pleasure of the empress.”
“Gotta say, this is one bizarre society,” Josias said.
“You don’t like it?”
“Let’s just say I think there’s room for improvement.”
“You sound like the Human Liberation movement.”
“What’s that?”
“Bunch of cranks,” Finn said quickly. “This is a good life for people here, and you squeezed some great concessions out of mother.”
“He’s lying,” Otylia said cheerfully. “He ran away from this good life.”
“I’m glad you did,” Ellie murmured.
“It’s so good it opened my eyes to other possibilities,” Finn taunted his twin. “The sign of a truly enlightened society.”
“Enlightened my arse,” Otylia said.
“It doesn’t matter why you went to Anoosha,” Josias said. “It’s the outcome that counts. So let’s concentrate on getting the Diligent to High Rosa and bringing everyone down to the ground.”
“Hey, Finny and I can help start sculpting the livestone outcrops in Hafnir for you,” Otylia said. “And there are plenty of uranics from other families, our generation who are suffocating here. They’ll all jump at the chance to do something useful and practical.”
“Probably, yeah,” Finn agreed.
“You’ll have to decide what you want Hafnir’s new capital city to look like,” Otylia told Josias.
“This.” Ellie waved her hand at Santa Rosa.
“You’ll get there,” Finn said solemnly.
Ellie gave him a friendly smile. “Thanks.”
“So how do we get back to the Diligent after your mother signs whatever legal crap this world’s lawyers come up with?” Josias asked.
“Hire an interplanetary spaceship,” Finn told him.
“Sounds expensive.”
“Yes, but as you may have noticed, the Jalgori-Tobu family is quite financially comfortable.”
“I thought you were making your own way in the galaxy,” Otylia teased. “Proud and independent, giving the finger to your loving family.”
“I am, but this is official business. Afterward, when I own the Diligent, then I’ll start using my own money, and the last you’ll see of my upright finger is when it vanishes into a Gate of Heaven.”
* * *
—
One livestone block simply wasn’t good enough for the Enfoe Dynasty, so they took over two and hired a uranic architect to sculpt the upper floors together, forming an arching tunnel over the intervening street, merging the interiors into an expansive three-dimensional maze where they all lived and conducted their planetside business. The residence was in Santa Rosa’s Kolloffe district, just outside the railyards that surrounded the orbital tower. Travelers never liked to venture far from their access to space.
Finn’s globecab drove under a baroque porte-cochère in an inner courtyard as the sun was setting. Gyvoy was standing there waiting for him. As soon as Finn got out of the globecab, he rushed over to greet him with a big smile and an outstretched hand—
Finn had met Gyvoy in the lonely days after he turned his back on his own family. The young Traveler had already flown interstellar, which gave him a certain swagger, and he didn’t respect Finn’s heritage, which—oddly—was a kind of compliment. However, he told Finn straight out that a uranic could be advantageous to his dynasty. Finn didn’t mind being treated as a commodity. Anything that got him a step closer to his goal of flying outsystem. So Gyvoy had messaged Iyane and told Finn to find him when he reached Anoosha. Now they were back full circle.
One of the first messages to reach Finn’s lnc after he touched down at Santa Rosa’s tower station the day before had been from Gyvoy.
* * *
—
Finn’s memory of the rest of the evening was hazy. Gyvoy had taken over an old sub-basement room for the night, hosting a party for the relatives he was tightest with, along with guests from Santa Rosa’s merchants. He insisted on introducing Finn to a pair of young women. “Ebany and Pallavi, my cousins,” he announced. Finn barely had time to say hello to them before Gyvoy handed him a couple of shots of novka chilled to near-cryogenic levels. Finn almost gagged as the liquor cold-burned its way down his throat.
“I heard about the Zaita City shitshow,” Gyvoy shouted above the music. “What went wrong?”
“Bitch called Liliana. Quinitai family double agent,” Finn slurred back.
“Oh, man, that’s fucking Anoosha for you. Everyone screwing each other for a bigger bonus. There’s no loyalty anymore. I’m never going back.”
“Me neither.”
Gyvoy grinned and poured another pair of novka shots. “The past is dead. Only the future is alive, a dream that needs waking.”
“Flying to the future!” Finn shouted and downed his shot in one.
“Just give us one moment,” Gyvoy begged his cousins. “Boring business talk.” He hauled Finn off into a secure booth. “Were you serious when you called me?” he asked, suddenly sober. “You can acquire a fucking arkship?”
Finn concentrated hard, blinking him into focus. “Yes. It’ll be docking at High Rosa in a few months.”
“Son of a bitch! I have no idea how you pulled that deal off, but kudos, man, kudos!”
“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you. But first, I need to hire an interplanetary ship. I can pay.”
“You can? How much did you make on Anoosha?”
“The Jalgori-Tobu family will be financing the flight.”
“Okay, now I’m genuinely impressed. I need to introduce you to Grandpa Uzoma. Anyone who owns an arkship would be extremely welcome in our dynasty. And what happened in Zaita City proved you’ve got some serious cojones.”
Uzoma had founded the Enfoe Dynasty, Finn knew, the kind of person Finn really needed to be on side with if he was actually going to walk away from this owning the Diligent. “I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he lied.
“I know. Nobody does until you have to. My advice: Don’t leave it too late to build an alliance. We don’t just run starships, we have some decent astroengineering stations up in High Rosa, too. An arkship’s got to need some maintenance when it docks. Hell, it’s been flying for twenty thousand years, right?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Well, start thinking. And I’m sure Ebany or Pallavi would enjoy signing a contract to make it official.”
“Er…”
“Consider the benefits. Our dynasty home is a fantastic place for kids to grow up. They soon get used to growing older than their parents. Look at me. I’m only eighteen years younger than Uzoma on a biological clock, and he founded the dynasty a hundred and eighty-eight years ago. You can fly all the long-duration missions you want and not have to worry about your children. Then—who knows?—they wind up older than you when they start flying their own missions. The point is, your home is always here, always welcoming, always full of family. And the Enfoes don’t have the tradition stick rammed up their arse like your lot.”
“Yeah,” Finn nodded slowly. “I can see that.”
“Good man. Now let’s get back to the party, and get you laid.”
* * *
—
It probably happened. Finn certainly woke up in bed with Pallavi the next morning—late, but with a serious hangover. Thankfully, he didn’t have a residual spray-wooze; he hadn’t fallen that low again. Even so, he couldn’t remember much of the previous night, and certainly nothing after they’d stumbled up to her apartment on the eighth floor overlooking an inner courtyard. Not a whole lot before that, either. Gyvoy had definitely introduced him to Uzoma at some point, who was so intense Finn just knew he’d blown any chance of being invited to join the dynasty. Even the news about owning the Diligent hadn’t raised a flicker of interest on the founder’s broad, humorless face. Uzoma had regarded Finn and Gyvoy with the same level of disappointment as Finn’s mother reserved for her children.
Maybe that’s always a thing for the head of a prominent household.
He didn’t sneak out after waking; he had some dignity at least. He stayed for coffee and croissants in a communal dining hall on the third floor. He and Pallavi chatted pleasantly enough, agreed that it’d be nice to get together again sometime when their schedules matched.
It was only when he was standing in the porte-cochère waiting for a globecab that he realized those schedules would probably never click. He was already regretting the excess of last night, but after the stress of Anoosha, falling back into the old party lifestyle was too easy. Except the only times he’d really enjoyed those kinds of nights had all been with Graça.
I was weak. Trying too hard to bond with Gyvoy, that was the trouble. He remembered what Josias had said: Never accept the first offer. Well, he needed the Enfoes to get to Kinnox, but once the Diligent docked at High Rosa, they’d have to make a decent offer if they wanted to do business with Finbar Jalgori-Tobu, starship owner.
The journey back to the palace was the first time he’d really been alone since the disastrous mission on Anoosha. He could actually think about what he’d set in motion. The scale of it. The audacity!
He knew he’d overreached himself, that it was a reaction to Liliana and the terror she’d subjected him to. By surviving, he’d fooled himself he was invincible. But in reality he was just another Jalgori-Tobu, latest in a long line of sons who did nothing. Even now that legacy lingered; he’d monitored the news streams from Anoosha. There’d been no mention of the rekaul gang, no investigation, no raid. Prompt action by the authorities was something only a useless uranic would expect.
This hope, though…the dream of starship ownership: it was intoxicating. The only time he’d ever known that level of assurance was when he was with Graça. She wouldn’t laugh at him for having such exalted ambitions. She would have encouraged him, praised him, admired what he was attempting—unlike his own subconscious.
When he reached the palace, he went straight up to his apartment and sealed the door. The backpack he’d brought with him from Anoosha was in a locked chest. He took it out and unzipped it. Nestled in the bottom was one of the low-temperature flasks, its green light glowing steadily.
Finn had never taken rekaul before, but he knew how. The dosage was available on Gondiar’s network, a simple neurodata search away. And he still had his old spray along with a volatiles mixer kit from the time he and Graça had been together.
He measured out a dose that would immerse him for a couple of hours in the Browntime—named after Eric Brown, the Lidon-based neurologist who discovered the drug’s properties. A tiny droplet of the neurochemical was inserted into the neutral volatile liquid to carry it through the blood–brain barrier. He snapped the vial into the spray mechanism and lay back on the bed. Focus, that was the key. You had to focus on the precise moment you wanted. The human brain was a tricky bastard, and a stray thought as the rekaul took effect would summon up the wrong memory. There were so many horror stories of the mind playing tricks. Simply trying to think of something nice could summon up its antonym—an agonizing accident where the physical pain played out at full intensity, watching a disaster you’d witnessed unfold, or a childhood trauma perfect in every excruciating detail.
Lying on the bed was a good start. He pumped the spray and inhaled. The bed in Graça’s student apartment wasn’t anything like as big, but if he closed his eyes, the fabric and soft mattress were similar. Her apartment was on the third floor of a university student block, with windows that were heavily shaded by the old magnolia tree outside in the courtyard. Slim sunbeams managed to shine through the tiny gaps between its glossy leaves. They prickled the livestone walls, stippling across the sheets of poetry she’d hung up. She wrote everything on actual paper, complete with lines crossed out and fresh prose scrawled in the gaps. Because composing on a screen was devoid of feeling, she explained as he leaned in to read them. Screens, processors, keyboards, audio transcription with phonetic thesaurus function was mechanical, easy…Poetry should be so hard it makes your soul bleed the words onto paper.
He looked around to admire her intensity. It was mesmerizing. An old recording of a track strummed by a single steel guitar played as they undressed eagerly. Then the bed’s fabric pressed into his skin, and the smell of dust and ancient sprays filled his nostrils as they spent the whole afternoon entangled, discovering a perfect human refuge that no arkship had ever reached. Graça’s smile was worshipful as she stroked his cheek. “I believe in you,” she promised him.
Tears, now as then, ran down his face.
“I can do this,” he promised her mirage as it grew distant. “I can leave this world behind. Properly this time.”
A cool evening breeze was blowing in through his palace apartment’s open windows. The Browntime had lasted for hours, just as that lost, lovely afternoon had. He’d never expected rekaul to be so real. All the descriptions and rumors were real; it was like traveling back in time. His muted lnc patch displayed seven messages and unanswered calls, two from his mother. Finn groaned and headed for the shower.
Chapter Seven
For all the information Younes had passed on over the years, and the rewards that had brought, Terence Wilson-Fletcher still considered the gang financier a grade-one pain in the arse. Always pushing, often not quite providing the full picture, pressing for benefits. Twice he’d suspected Younes of setting up rivals in Stanvar8, so he could advance himself once they were arrested. Even so, the informer had never tried to avoid him before. The threat of prosecution for using the musher pistol had always proved sufficient to keep him in line. Besides, his betrayal of Stanvar8 meant he wouldn’t last ten minutes on the street if Terence ever leaked that.
So it was irritating and annoying in equal measure that he’d deactivated his lnc code after Terence lost sight of him at the Fleesh Diamond. It hadn’t been reinstated since, as all the messages Terence sent during the morning went undelivered. That, combined with the ridiculous escort duty for the Jalgori-Tobu Minsterialis, did nothing to improve his temper.
He got back to his apartment just after midday to change out of the dress uniform, and sent yet another message to Younes from an alias account, asking for a meeting. It wasn’t a polite ask. The message came back tagged as undeliverable. Enough was enough.
The lnc patch manager Lenertz Mo had supplied him was some kind of low-grade Celestial CI, providing functions that even the police department didn’t have.
“What was the time and location of disconnection?” he asked it.
“Code lnc for Younes ended at four-sixteen in the morning. Location: Avenue Vignon, Roblin block, apartment five-nine.”
Terence knew that address well enough: Younes’s apartment. But it was an odd time for the access to end, unless it was just after Younes had arrived home after a heavy night with Dagon and Gyvoy—which wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. But why would he disconnect his lnc patch? And why not reactivate it after he’d sobered up? “Is any other patch or system currently accessing the node in that apartment?”
“No.”
“Was any other system accessing it at four-sixteen?”
“No.”
“Damn.” He pulled his trousers off. No way was he going back to the station wearing the dress uniform. “Okay, monitor that lnc code and tell me when it becomes active again.”
“Confirmed.”
“Now call Annabeth.” He started opening drawers, looking for something to put on.
“Hey, you,” Annabeth said.
“Hey yourself. Sorry about last night, but I’ve booked a table at the Vavin for this evening. There’s a band playing.”
“It’s been a long day. And we’ve had an extra kidney replacement surgery scheduled for this afternoon. I couldn’t turn it down; I need the money.”
“I get that, sure. What time do you finish?”
“Maybe eight. But, Terence, I’m not going to want a big fancy meal after that.”
“Sure. Do you want to come over? We can get a delivery; whatever you fancy.”
There was a long pause, which he really didn’t enjoy.
“Okay. But I’m probably just going to fall asleep on your couch.”
“That’s fine. I just want to see you.”
“You’re sweet. When I know what time the surgery’s going to end, I’ll let you know.”
“Love you.”
“See you later.”
The call ended, leaving him mildly deflated. He didn’t think he could have done anything more.
When he did finally get to the Vassodan station, there were three current cases to file properly. He was due in court in two days’ time for a particularly nasty assault case, which he needed to review before he talked to the district prosecutor’s office. And there were another two allegations of Gath abuse logged against the owner of a civic services company that needed investigation.
