Rules of Conflict (51 page)

“Why did I release the retardant foam?”

“
That’s
the million-Com question, isn’t it?” Lucien propped
his feet up on her bed and tipped back in his chair. “And not just the stuff in
the ready tanks, but the stuff in the reserves and in the lines. You activated
the synthesizers, too. Overrode the metering sensors. Yup, you shoved a UV
finger down its throat and the whole damned system just went
blech
.”

Jani grinned. “I’m sorry about the cleanup detail.”

Lucien had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Pimentel organized
the tag-team talkers. He said you might recall what we said while you were in
coma, so we had to be careful.”

“Thanks for not taking the advice to heart.”

“
You
hand-polish brass fixtures for three weeks and try to
restrain your enthusiasm!” He eyed her with an expression of patience sorely
tried. “Oh well. Nema says hello.”

“Next time you see him, tell him hello back.”

“He’s inevitable, you know. Inexorable. All those
in
words.” Lucien hunched deeper into the chair. “Besides, if you came around, you
could keep him off my back. ‘Lucien, you must tell my nìa—! Lucien, you
must—you must—!’”

Jani studied him for some sign he might be joking, and couldn’t
find one. “If it’s so bad, request a transfer.”

“No.” Lucien studied his nails. “It’s still interesting.”

“Haven’t figured out how to work him yet, have you?”

“I’m going to ignore that. What he really wants is to see you. He
has to hold off, though. Ceèl is still ticked about being forced to acknowledge
you. Nema said he has to throw him a bone or two before he can mention the
possibility.”

“Did he really say ‘throw him a bone’?”

“Yeah. That handheld of his has been getting a workout.”

Before Jani could learn more, the door opened and Val sauntered in.
He was sharply attired as always—dark green trousers and a patterned shirt in
greens and browns. Late summer afoot. “Hello, I was on my way to a meeting
and—” His eyes drank in Lucien, and his face lit. “I’m sorry, Jani, I didn’t
realize you had visitors. Lieutenant Pascal, isn’t it? We spoke once during the
night in question, but we’ve never been formally introduced—I’m Val Parini.”

Lucien cast him a bored glance, then ignored him. “I have to get
back to work.” He rose and bent close to Jani. “I’ll stop by this evening.”

Jani tilted her head to receive his now-customary peck on the
cheek. She wasn’t paying attention, so she couldn’t slip from his grasp when he
wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her so hard
she either had to open her mouth or risk a serious bruising. He tightened his
grip when she tried to pull away, and nipped her lower lip when she pinched his
thigh.

“
Speaking of ten-minute head starts,
” Jani said in brisk
Acadian when they finally broke apart. Lucien answered with a smirk, then
brushed past Val as though he wasn’t there.

Val waited for the door to close before speaking. “I don’t think
osculation
français
is on your list of prescribed meds.”

Jani struggled to find a less distracting sitting position—stimulation
of one highly sensitive region tended to travel. “You’re just jealous.”

“Nonsense. Merely concerned for your welfare.” His expression grew
thoughtful as he strolled around the end of the bed and flopped into Lucien’s
chair. “I’ve read his psych evals. Nasty augment he has. You deserve better.”

“I’ve seen him without his shirt—he’s just what the doctor
ordered.”

“Not this doctor.” Val adopted a look of serious concentration.
“Selfish. Narcissistic. Incapable of sympathy, much less empathy.”

“No sloppy emotions to complicate matters—just the way I like it.”

“You’re not—” Val faltered. “You’re not his only
interest
.
Or his only loyalty, if I can even use that word in connection with him. He
can’t be trusted.”

“You have been digging, haven’t you?” Jani met his gaze—he dropped
his first. “I have him figured out.”

“Think of the opportunities you’re letting slip away.”

“Keep John out of this.”

“Did I mention a name? I was speaking of life in general—did I
once mention my best friend, my business partner, one of the wealthiest men in
the Commonwealth?”

“It didn’t work the first time. What makes you think now would be
any different?”

“The best amongst us acquire certain traits as they age. Maturity.
Patience. The ability to give and take.”

“We’re talking about the same John Shroud, aren’t we?” Jani racked
her brain for a suitable change of subject, and pounced on the first thing she
thought of. “How’s Hugh? Morley said he was here the night I was admitted, but
I haven’t seen him.”

Val’s rakish air vanished. He looked away, hands clenching. “He
wants to visit you, but only if he knows he won’t run into me. I’m meeting with
Cal Montoya in the city tomorrow, so he’ll stop by then.”

“Emergency ditching in the lovelorn sea?” That had been another
one of their Rauta Shèràa jokes. Jani suddenly felt the need to make him smile.

He did. A little. “White chocolate cheesecake—what did I tell
you?” He picked at his trouser leg. “And he got upset. About you. Reading the
files was one thing, he said, but seeing in the flesh what John and Eamon and I
had done . . .” His hand stilled. “He’s submitted his
resignation. He’s leaving Neoclona.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” He looked at her, eyes darkened with concern. Fear. “I
asked you on Felix, and you didn’t answer. I’m asking you again.” He tapped his
fingers against his thigh, faster and faster, as though building up momentum.
Or courage. “Do you hate us?”

“You saved my life,” Jani said, jumping at the pat answer. But
Val’s desolate look informed her that she wouldn’t slip out from under that
easily.
How do I feel about you?
Master go-between. John’s apologist
extraordinaire. She shrugged, catching herself as the scars from the shunt
pulled. “Val, if we’d met under normal circumstances, I think we’d have been
great friends.”

“Jani?” Val’s eyes dulled in question. “We’re friends
now
.”

“In a way.” Jani studied her hands. Had the real skin grown darker
than the animandroid? More bronze? If she compared herself to Nema, would she
see a difference? “But you’re a scientist, and by all accounts a good one, if a
little shifty on the follow-through. I think you’re anxious to see how the
experiment turns out.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Val said, too softly. “You haven’t been on the
other side of that door for the past five weeks.”

“No, I’ve been on the business side.” Jani’s voice thinned as her
throat tightened. “Every time I ask somebody a question, they dodge or clam up.
What did you do to me?”

“You’re not in any condition yet—”

“
Val
.”

“John ordered us not to tell you until he deemed you ready, and he
hasn’t deemed you yet!”

“Hasn’t he? Well, the next time you see him, tell him to get off
his ass and deem away!” Jani kicked off her covers. “I’m going for a walk.”

Val scrambled to his feet and hurried around the bed to her side.
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

Jani eased her legs over the bedside and probed with her toes for
her slippers. “Yes. I may even venture outside this time—it’s a beautiful day.”

She found herself the focus of all eyes as she shuffled down the
hall on Val’s arm. White coats smiled. Waved. Offered the occasional “Howya
doin’, Captain?”

“It’s hotter than hell out there,” Val said as he escorted her to
the front entrance. “One circuit around the flower beds and I’m bringing you
back in.”

“I thought you had a meeting.”

“Shit.” He glared at his timepiece. “Stay put. I’m going to find
someone to go with you.”

As soon as Val disappeared from view, Jani took off in the
opposite direction, weakened muscles distorting her walk into a limping skip.
She had gotten the lay of the land during her previous visits—she knew exactly
where she needed to go. She cut through an empty conference room. Up another
hall and down a utilities chase.

The Basic Research Group dominated the east wing of the ground
floor. Jani pressed the buzzer of the door leading into the largest,
best-equipped lab. It swept open.

John sat at a large desk in the middle of the room, hunched over a
recording board. Atop the surrounding benches, analyzers clicked and
data-transfer stations chirped. In the background, a hint of music from a
hidden system. Elgin. Or was it Mozart?

“Put the sequencer on the bench nearest the window,” he rumbled.
“Leave the samples on the cart.”

“Where do you want me to put the violin?” Jani asked as she
dragged a visitor’s chair over to the desk.

John’s head shot up. As soon as he saw her, his face colored candy
pink. The cruel blush clashed with his jacket, a crossover cowlneck in palest
pearl grey.

“Val told me you still play.” Jani sat and swung her feet up onto
the desk. The left leg worked fine, but the right still needed hoisting.

“Play?” John blinked in confusion. He’d filmed his eyes to match
the jacket—the argent irises glittered like fish scales. He’d have cut a
sinister figure if not for his face’s boiled-lobster glow. He sat back and
tossed his stylus on the desk. “Oh. Yes. Once in a while. I’m out of practice,
though.” He raised his left hand and ran his fingers along an imaginary violin
neck. “I’m losing my calluses.”

“Shouldn’t let that happen—it’ll take months to grow them back.”
Jani glanced around the lab for something else to comment upon. The featureless
white walls? The blaze of summer, visible through narrow windows? Finally, she
caught sight of a familiar device atop one of the benches, and shook her head.
“Coffee brewer in the lab? For shame. Where’s a safety officer when you need
one?”

John’s expression lightened. “I was about to make fresh.” He rose
and crossed the floor with the loose-limbed, liquid walk that age hadn’t
changed. “Do you want some?”

“Sure.” Jani settled back and watched him brew the coffee. The
surroundings were more posh and the circumstances less perilous than they’d
been eighteen years ago, but in a way, it was as though nothing had changed. As
though they sat in the same basement office and listened to the same recordings.
As if nothing existed outside the walls that enclosed them.

She studied him, something she hadn’t yet been able to do. He
stood one-nine, but as always, his thin build and penchant for monochrome
clothing made him look even taller. His hair shone in the diffuse room light,
so white and crisply trimmed it looked like a plastic cap. Jani could still
recall its feel between her fingers, like shredded silk.

She pushed the memories aside and concentrated on the man who
stood before her now. Time’s passage had done him a favor.
Homely
had
become
striking
. Strangeness had become style.
Congratulations,
Johnny—you won. Just like you told me you would.

The brewer gurgled and hissed. Dark aromas filled the room, heavy
enough to cut with a Sìah blade. John poured and stirred, then ambled back to
the desk and handed Jani her cup. Unadorned ivory ceramic—weighty and solid.
“Black?”

“You remembered.” Jani held it to her nose and inhaled the almost
solid essence. “I drink this, I won’t sleep for a week.”

John frowned. “Val claims it etches tooth enamel.” One nearly
invisible eyebrow arched. “He told me
he
made you coffee on Felix, and
you liked it.”

“I
drank
it—it was either that or die.” Jani sipped, then
tried to think of the words to compare Val’s bellywash with the nectar she
tasted. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”

John smiled. “That’s what I thought.” The expression flavored his
voice warm brown, like the coffee. He stared into his cup, then sighed. “I’d
like to think this is a social call, but I’m guessing you came here for a
reason.” He returned to his side of the desk.

Jani nodded. “I waited for you to visit. When you didn’t, I
decided it was time for the mountain to come to Muhammad.”

“You needed your rest.” John gripped his recording board by the
corner and pushed it back and forth. “Your recovery has progressed splendidly.”
He looked at her, and his metal eyes softened. “You look . . . wonderful.”

Jani tugged first at the lapel of her mud blue robe, then at her
pillow-mashed curls. She felt the heat flood her face—at least her skin
contained enough melanin to obscure matters. “Pimentel thinks I’m healing like
a kid. He’s never seen anything like it.” She labored to maintain a casual
tone. “What happened?”

John set down his cup and tented his hands. “Your condition, when
we pulled you out of the SIB, was extremely grave. Your liver was failing, and
your metabolism was deranged. You began seizing—those seizures were of
sufficient scope and severity we feared permanent brain damage. The DeVries
shunt—”

“—cut my brain off from the rest of my body until the hepatic
adjunct cleared toxic metabolites out of my system so I’d stop seizing. That
much I extracted from a nurse named Stan, who is quite taken with my pussycat
eyes.” Jani flexed her right hand and compared it again to her left. The light
was brighter here—did they still look different? “What else?”

John ran a hand along his jacket crossover. “If you’re upset, we
can discuss this later—”

“
No
.” Jani lowered her feet to the floor—the right one hit
with a
thump
. “We discuss it now.”

“You have a new liver.”

“
I know that
.” She leaned forward and set her cup on the
desk hard enough that coffee splashed over the side. “Pimentel was treating me
for acute intermittent porphyria, a disease he thought you gave me when you
rebuilt me. Is that true?”