Agents of Rivelt, page 2
“I’m escorting you to your family on Rivelt.”
Family. Another void, just like all the years before Joe. She didn’t even know who she was. “You said you have a picture of me…from before… Can I see it?”
“Sure.”
He tapped at controls in the table’s surface. The video screen lit up with the image of a smiling teen. Fine blue lines squiggled across one cheek. On the other, two bolder lines curved where scars now tugged at Tracy’s eye and lip. The name Telnia Doran labeled the photo. The girl seemed utterly foreign.
“I just can’t imagine looking like that.”
“You won’t. Even though your parents can easily afford facial repair and any medical care you may need, the blue markings will never reappear. Your memories, though—you’ll likely recover them.”
He appeared so certain. Oh, to have knowledge enough to predict something—anything—of the future! “How do you know?”
“Inhibited recall is controlled with a brain chip. It doesn’t destroy memories. It just keeps you from accessing them. There’s nothing to worry about. Doctors on Rivelt know how to deactivate and remove any chips you have.”
She stared at the girl on the screen. Telnia—whoever that was.
“What’s bothering you?” Vigard asked.
“I see what you mean about her eyes, so I guess that must be me, but… I’m just not her. I can’t go back to being her, even if I do remember my childhood.”
Vigard laid a hand over her tightly clasped fingers. “No one goes back to a past version of themselves. We all live in who we are today. We all head toward an unknown future. You now get to choose what you will do with today. You no longer need to fear death in every moment ahead of you. Don’t replace that with fear of the unknown. Replace it with hope.”
He switched the display’s image. A video of the approach to Rivelt began. The sun sparked from behind the sphere, illuminating a continent on the planet below. Soon mountains and forests, rivers and fields sped beneath the camera.
“This,” Vigard said, “is the next step in your new life. Let your expectancy build.”
Tracy watched a distant city grow larger. Perhaps her future home. Among people who understood her. Or would they? She had lived such a different life from them during the last four years. At least she had a chance now to make her own choices.
What should she make of that opportunity? This man floating next to her…she barely knew him, but they had at least one thing in common. He was also a thought-reader without facial markings. He had just made an enormous difference in her life. Someday, she would make an enormous difference, too.
Don’t Rescue Me
Vigard strode beneath the flashing words: Riveltians Only. No thought-leakers allowed.
He was home—if there was such a thing for him. Where but home would most intelligent species be forbidden entry? Rivelt Spaceport Authority shunted thought-leakers off to Visitor Colony at the first opportunity. Vigard savored the mental silence as he passed between fellow travelers, unafraid to show their blue facial markings. The hush usually prompted a smile, but not today. He had to meet Jessop and give him the news.
Vigard lengthened his stride, bypassing travelers and their robotic suitcases. The sooner he got this over with, the better. The greeting plaza came into view. It spanned several terminals in a long curve, with tables and chairs for those who awaited arrivals. Light diamonds floated overhead in tasteful arrangements, replicating sunlight so convincingly that the vast room lived up to its plaza claim.
Vigard slowed, searching for Jessop’s brown mop. He should be here somewhere. Instead, Vigard’s eyes locked on inky black hair with a lock of shimmering green. Could it be? She sat at a small round table, reading. He studied her profile. It was her.
Vigard approached her from behind and repeated a line from their first meeting. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She twisted, sucking in a breath, as her gaze leapt to his. “Vigard!”
Surprise he’d expected, but the delight in her voice—that was much needed balm. He chuckled and dropped into the other chair. “How are you, Tracy—er, sorry, Telnia?”
She turned her head aside and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh! You have no idea how much I hate that name. Hearing Tracy again is like the sound of rain to parched soil.”
“Really? I’d expect you would detest the name—remind you of captivity and all that.” He couldn’t drag his eyes from her face. The scars were gone, like they had never existed. “By the light of Opal, Tracy, you look gorgeous!”
Her smile spread to its farthest reaches. “Thank you, Vigard.” She laughed and ducked her head. “My mom says I accept compliments with unbecoming delight. You, at least, understand why.”
“I do. And there are times when moms should be ignored. Let me see that lock of green again.”
She turned her head, watching him from the corner of one eye.
“That’s the hair color I used for my disguise when I found you.”
“Yes,” she said. “So gaudy that you blended right in with the casino crowd, but it stands out like a pennant here.”
“Intentional?”
“You got it. Posting your schedules doesn’t seem fashionable among you private locators.”
He grinned and shook his head.
“I come here every day,” she said, “but the crowd is so thick at times, and there’s no guessing your hair color or which persona you’ll be dressed as.” Her gaze moved over his ordinary brown jacket as she twirled her lock of green hair around a finger. “This was white, but you never saw me that way, so you wouldn’t notice. My mom was after me to dye it black, but I prefer this particular shade of green.”
A hundred messages lurked in her words. He met her indigo eyes. “What turned it white?”
“According to my doctor, it was the trauma of having to face all my experiences at once when they removed the memory block.” She licked her lips, pulling them in then slowly releasing them. “Sixteen years of growing up, which came to a sudden halt with the shock of abduction. Being drugged and tied up for days wasn’t much fun. Later, I was dragged out of half-finished facial surgery to the sound of sirens and weapon fire. Then, I was dumped into one of those big trash collector bins. For hiding, I think. They probably intended to come back for me, but Joe found me first.”
Vigard grasped her fingers in a firm grip. He shook his head, his lips clamped tight. None of this surprised him. She wasn’t the first, or the last, to suffer atrocities. A story much like hers had been the reason he became a private locator. He let a breath pass to be sure she was finished. “That’s enough to turn anyone’s hair white.”
“Yeah,” she said, more sigh than word. She pulled up a tight smile and straightened. “But it’s over now.”
“True. It’s been six months, hasn’t it? How do you like having your life back?”
She glanced aside, twisting her mouth into a weird contortion.
“Hard adjustment?”
“Stifling is probably a better word. My parents still think I’m sixteen. Kind of like time froze because I was out of sight for four years.”
Vigard groaned and lowered his head, lacing his fingers through non-descript brown hair.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t rescue me until I was twenty,” she said. “If I hadn’t been a legal adult, they would have forced me back into school with a bunch of teenagers.”
“How could you possibly be the offspring of such idiots?”
“I don’t know. At least they listened to advice and got me an advanced tutor. I’ve tested through standard education, which frees me up to learn useful stuff.”
“Like what?”
“I’m mostly into cultural studies and history. My mom dreams of my future high up in Riveltian politics. She has no idea how broad my interests are.” Tracy swung her straight hair back. “So, what have you been up to?”
“The usual. Running my transport business to cover my locator activities.” His stomach knotted. Impossible to meet her gaze. He scanned the crowd again. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”
“Mm. You don’t look happy about it.”
He let out a pent-up breath. “Don’t assume every run is successful.”
“Couldn’t you find who you were looking for?”
“Oh, I found her.” He spotted Jessop across the room and made eye contact. Vigard watched him weave between tables. “This guy is her cousin.”
Jessop reached their table. “Excuse me, miss. I, uh…”
Tracy smiled her welcome. “It’s no problem. Please join us.”
“Thank you, but…”
Vigard hooked a chair from a vacant table and swung it around. “Sit down, Jessop. She’s safe.”
Jessop perched on the chair. His eyes locked on Vigard, his face so white his blue markings stood out more than usual. “How was your last excursion?”
Vigard pursed his lips and ignored the attempt at a coded conversation. “I found her this time, but she wouldn’t come with me.”
Jessop clenched his jaw as if trying to control the expressions that chased across his face.
Vigard had seen them all before. Grief, confusion, anger. Years of waiting, ending in thwarted hope. It wasn’t easy. “Go ahead and swear,” he said.
Jessop threw an uncertain glance at Tracy, propped his elbows on the table, and braced his mouth against clasped hands. His knuckles gleamed white.
Vigard couldn’t blame him for not trusting a stranger. “Adrian Jessop, this is Telnia Doran.”
The name seemed to register. Jessop looked at her, then said, “Are you the one Vigard rescued a while back?”
“That’s me.”
“What’s the deal, Vigard? Had to bring a success story to cover up your failure?”
Tracy sucked in a breath. “He had no idea I was here!”
“It’s okay, Tracy.” Vigard rested a hand on her forearm. “I’ve followed many leads on Carlie—only to find she’d been sold or stolen. Can’t blame him for being heartbroken or frustrated.”
Jessop rubbed a hand down his face. “Why wouldn’t she come with you?”
“She’s had several handlers, and one of them was a Riveltian traitor—a tralt Human like us. A real beast, that one. He snatched her by pretending to rescue her.” Vigard paused while Jessop let out a string of curses. “Her current handler is a thought-leaker, so she always knows his intentions. That gives her a little control. Makes her situation—tolerable, to a certain degree. If it’s any consolation, he murdered the Riveltian traitor.”
Jessop’s face reddened until his markings turned purplish. “What am I supposed to tell her parents?” he demanded through clenched teeth.
Vigard studied the bare table. “You can tell them that she is fed and clothed, and that she is not being physically abused.” He let out a long breath. “You can tell them that she has come to terms with her situation and chose to stay.” He swallowed and raised his gaze to Jessop. “And tell them I’m sorry—I truly am—but I can’t rescue her if she’s not willing. We’d both get killed.”
Silence stretched, broken by Jessop’s mumbling. “I just can’t…not that she wouldn’t come home…They won’t understand. I can’t imagine her choosing that.”
“Is she in the Syndicate’s realm?” Tracy asked.
Vigard nodded.
Her eyebrows pinched and lifted as she turned to Jessop. “The handlers keep thought-readers hidden from the Syndicate. If she escaped her handler, only to fall prey to the Syndicate, it would be”—Tracy shook her head—“a risk too horrible to consider. There is nothing surprising about her choice. Please don’t blame her for it.”
Spasms pulled at Jessop’s lips, then he jumped up and strode away.
Vigard rubbed the space between his brows. “See? It’s not a glorious job I have.”
Tracy’s gaze seemed to span lightyears. She pursed her lips. “If you were a woman, would she have left with you?”
Vigard huffed. “Who knows? That’s one disguise I can’t pull off.” As she continued to stare off into the distance, heat crept up the back of his neck. “What are you thinking?”
“That Carlie will spend the rest of her days wondering if she should have trusted you. Wondering if she could have been free.”
“What does that have to do with her rescuer being a woman instead of a man?”
She smirked. “Remember, I’ve been in her position. I know just what to say to a thought-leaker to stop him cold when he starts getting…inappropriate ideas. But it doesn’t work on thought-readers. That traitorous jerk probably used her body as well as her mind. She would have expected the same from you.”
Even though she met Vigard’s gaze now, her speculative look was stronger than ever.
“What else?” he asked.
“She’s had some time for regret. I bet I could convince her we’re not traitors.”
Vigard opened his mouth to give her a resounding no, but the word got stuck. She would consider such a thing? Despite all she’d endured, she would risk her own life and freedom? But—could she do it?
Someone sauntered by, darting a surreptitious look at them. The sort of thing Vigard always watched for. “Do you ever get the feeling you’re being followed, Tracy?”
Her shoulders shook and her voice dropped to barely audible. “All the time. That guy who just walked by is undercover police. Since my dad couldn’t stop me from coming here, he pulled some strings to have me watched.”
“This isn’t the safest place, you know. Slave traders and their captives have to go through a spaceport to get off planet.”
“Exactly. And my markings have already been removed, which means I’m a lucrative target. So, I make myself obvious. The police watch both me and anyone who notices me. I’m well-protected bait. My little contribution to the cause.”
“Just remember,” he said, “thought-readers are involved in the slave trade, too. They’re the sort of people that everyone trusts, or we would find them more easily.”
“I get it. Even police officers could be involved. But this isn’t helping Carlie. Will you take me to her?”
“Oh, Tracy!” He closed his eyes for a moment. “She’s on a space station. Like the one I rescued you from. You’d be walking right back into the fire. How can I put you at risk like that?”
She snorted. “This from the man who just lectured me about not trusting the police on Rivelt.”
That deflated his argument like a needle to a balloon.
She stashed her reader in her large, stylish bag. “Besides, I’d be with you. And we all know you can waltz in and out of the fire unscathed.” She stood. “Shall we go?”
“Where are we going, Tracy?”
“Someplace private. Your transport should work.”
“Fine.” He stood and leaned close to her. “But this is going to take some serious discussion.”
“I’ll grant you that.”
“I don’t care to take you there with that green pennant flying.”
She chuckled as they wove between tables. “There’s a shop here that sells hats and scarves.”
“Good start. I’ll even show you how to use a shop to scope out the area and check if you’re being followed.”
An hour later, Vigard stared across empty mugs in his transport’s dining area, tapping a finger against his lower lip. “All right, Tracy. One gig. That’s all I’m agreeing to.”
She flashed a smile.
He shook his head. “You act like I’m taking you to some thrilling amusement venue. This is life-and-death.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?”
“I’m not making light of your experiences, but you haven’t been on the locating side. There’s tons of stuff you don’t know.”
“I’m not an idiot, Vigard. I know how to listen.” She linked her hands behind her head and studied the clouds painted on the ceiling. “We should agree on a cover for me. Since you don’t have passengers lined up, I can play the daughter of a rich couple. I certainly know how to do that. Maybe they want me out of—”
“Tracy.”
“Yes?”
“You are the young sister of an old friend of mine. You’re having trouble finding your niche, so I reluctantly agreed to give you a taste of the transport business. You are so ignorant that I don’t want paying passengers for your first run. You are eager to learn, hoping to impress me, so I will take you on as crew.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Learn how to say, ‘Yes, sir.’”
She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
He chuckled and stood. “Come on up front. Listen and watch, while I get us off planet. And you better get a message ready to send to your parents.” He turned away and muttered, “Who will want to slowly strangle me, whether you’re an adult or not.”
Vigard floated through the transport’s lounge that evening, expecting to find Tracy engrossed in a game or immersion video. Instead, she stared at her reader. “What’s so interesting?” he asked.
“Perg.” She advanced a page.
“Take it from me, they’re a boring race.”
She grinned and advanced another page. “I believe you. Flat history. Flat culture. The best I can say of them is, they have almost no government.” Another page zipped by. “But you said Carlie’s handler is Perg, and considering the space station’s coordinates, it’s bound to be swarming with them.” Another page.
“True, but the plan is for minimal interaction. So, why are you pretending to read about them?”
That pulled her eyes away from the page. “No pretense. I have a photographic memory.”
“You serious?”
She rattled off a list of exports and imports, complete with quantities and values for the past year, breaking off when he held up a hand. “Not interested?” she asked. “How about temperature and precipitation? No? How about names of the controllers for each industry?”
“Ah, now that could come in handy someday. Does it mention their ear vulnerability?”
