Rules of Conflict (55 page)

“You bollixed some of the details.”

“But the essential argument is correct?”

Mako grunted an affirmative, his eyes fixed on nothing.

Somewhere down the street, voices carried in loud farewell,
followed by the dull
thunks
of skimmer gullwings, an insect chorus of
activation whines.

“Where’d you park?” Evan asked.

Mako swirled his drink. “Three blocks over. House party. Skims
everywhere.” He looked deflated. Exhausted. “I offered her a way out.”

“She didn’t take it, did she?”

“She had no choice.”

“But she didn’t say ‘yes.’ And she didn’t say ‘thank you.’ And she
made you feel like the scum of the earth for offering. Welcome to the club,
Roshi.” Evan stared at the stained flagstone at his feet. “Need a refill?”

But when he looked over at Mako, he saw only an empty chair, a
half-filled glass balanced on the arm.

Jani slipped out of bed, then showered and dressed. She
took care not to trigger the lights—she needed to get where she was going by a
certain time and she didn’t want to risk waking Lucien. Odds were if he did
wake, he’d simply want to make love to her again. But he was a curious soul,
and would definitely question why she felt the need to stumble about in the
dark at 0400 when she could be playing with him or for that matter, just
sleeping
.

She considered leaving him a farewell comport entry or a
handwritten scribble on a piece of hotel stationery. Something to leave him
mumbling imprecations as he drove back to Sheridan in his Family paramour’s
husband’s skimmer. Instead, she blew a kiss to the tangle of arms, legs, and
sheet sprawled across the bed and left.

The air was thick with pavement heat, the night sky faded to grey
velvet by building lights. Chicago never truly slept, but it did take the
occasional breather and early morning midweek appeared to be one of those
downtimes. Few skimmers, delivery vans mostly. Fewer pedestrians. Jani bought
coffee from an automated kiosk, then hurried down the main streets and byways
she had mapped in her mind the night before. She didn’t need to ask directions.
She had done more during the previous night’s hotel search than search for
hotels.

Service Archives loomed like a holoVee castle on a corner across
from one of her rejected hotels. She walked in the front door and directly up
to the desk lieutenant, and handed her one of the IDs she had cobbled together
during her short stint in Foreign Transactions, when she still thought she
needed to plan her escape.

She waited for
Kisa Van, Major
to ring up clean and green,
then she wandered from stacks to stacks, and eventually found Sam Duong huddled
on the floor, picking through slipcases.

“Good morning, Mr. Duong.”

His breath caught, but when he looked up and saw her, he grinned
in relief. “Captain.” He shook his head. “No, not Captain. Not anymore.” He
brushed nonexistent dust from his hands and stood. “How did you know—?”

“You said morning was best to do Gate searches. Not the best
security. I guessed.”

“I’m surprised you remembered.” Sam struggled to his feet,
gripping the shelving for support.

“I understand you were in hospital the same time I was?”

“Yes. I wanted to visit, but Pimentel didn’t think it a good
idea.”

“He’s a worrier. How are you?”

“Fine. You?”

“Fine. You had surgery?”

“Yes. Pimentel says it went very easy. Drill, freeze, cut, cut.”
Sam flicked two fingers in imitation of a pair of snips. “I don’t mean to sound
rude, but how did you get in here?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Hah!” Sam grinned. “Want do you want?”

She told him.

“I don’t often make the entries themselves.” Sam activated
the workstation, nestled in a closetlike office down the hall from the stacks.
“It’s possible my passwords have expired.” He uttered a few Bandan phrases,
then sat forward so the display could get a good scan of his eyes. It took
several minutes—the workstation was old and required coaxing—but eventually the
correct screens burbled up from the system depths. “Go ahead.”

Jani hesitated until he turned to her, brows arched in question.
“Cray,” she finally said. “Yolan. Corporal. C-number
M-four-seven-dash-five-six-dash-two-eight-six-R.”

Sam uttered codes, touched pads, waited. “Next.”

“Burgoyne. Emil. Sergeant. C-number
M-three-nine-dash-one-four-dash-seven-seven-I.” Jani studied the scuffed brown
lyno, the ancient paper notice tacked on the wall notifying users to clean up
their trash. “Can you place the names where you want, or do they have to fall
in alphabetically?”

“I can force-fit.”

“Then put Borgie’s name right at the top of the entry arch. I want
Mako to drive beneath it every time he enters and leaves the base.”

Sam uttered another password. “Next.”

Fifteen names, by the time they finished. Fifteen C-numbers. Then
Sam punched the touchpad one last time, and spoke the final password, and
fifteen new names etched themselves in the Shenandoah Gate.

“I give it a week.” He shut down the workstation and tipped back
his chair. “Two, tops. I’m not the only checker they send out, and the names
are monitored regularly.”

“Can’t let colony names get on that Gate.”

“Almost as bad as inmates taking over the asylum.”

They both smiled.

“I need to get going.” Jani stood and held her hand out to Sam.
“Take care of yourself.”

“You, as well.” He took it gently. “Jani.”

Who do you think you are now?
Jani couldn’t make herself
ask him that, either. Instead, she settled for wishing him good-bye, and
hurried from the room before she thought of any more questions he could never
answer.

The desk smiled. “Did you find what you were looking for, Major?”

“Yes, I did.” Jani nodded briskly to the young woman and walked
out of the archives building into the new light of day. The walkways had filled
in the scant time since she’d entered. The skimways had clogged. She darted
between the stalled movers and taxis and down a side street, flicked the Kisa
Van ID into a trashzap, then stopped at the first decent-looking café she
found. Time for a leisurely breakfast, before the Documents Examiners Registry
opened at 0700. The day was young, and Jani Kilian had a lot to do.

Rules of Conflict

The Jani Kilian Chronicles, Book 2

Kristine Smith

Book View Café January 26, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-61138-581-6
Copyright © 2000 Kristine Smith

First published: Harpercollins Eos 2000

Cover illustration © 2016 Dave Smeds, with thanks to Fernando Cortés, DepositPhotos, and Algol, Dreamstime.

Production Team:
Cover Design: Dave Smeds
Proofreader: Sherwood Smith
Formatter: Vonda N. McIntyre

This book is a work of fiction. The characters,
incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to
be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

Digital edition: 20151223vnm

www.bookviewcafe.com
Book View Café Publishing Cooperative
P.O. Box 1624, Cedar Crest, NM 87008-1624

Kristine Smith
is the author of the Jani Kilian
series and a number of short stories, and is a winner of the Campbell Award for
Best New Writer. She worked as a process development scientist for a large
pharmaceutical manufacturer for 26 years, but now writes fulltime. She lives in
northern Illinois.

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“Impressive and entertaining . . . perilously
fascinating.”

—Locus

“[An] extraordinarily solid first novel . . .
Smith creates a complex and deftly shaded background populated with vivid,
memorable characters—a universe of power politics, commercial and political
espionage, and personal and interpersonal relationships . . .
Code of Conduct
is a novel for adults who have lost their illusions but not
their love of story.”

—Elizabeth Moon, author of
Once a Hero

“Smith’s tightly plotted SF thriller debut is an
ace—sure to appeal to readers who appreciate well-drawn characters and
sophisticated milieus . . . Smith balances a taut mystery with
vivid characters and a complex, ever-evolving plot—a feat more experienced
authors don’t always achieve.”

—Publishers Weekly

“The most fascinating alien culture since C.J.
Cherryh’s
Foreigner . . .
Code of Conduct
gives SF fans who demand strong
characterization something wonderful to read when there’s no new Bujold or Moon
novel.”

—Katharine Eliska Kimbriel, author of
Night Calls

“
Code of Conduct
is good science
fiction, good suspense, and an all-around good read.”

—SF Site

Code of Conduct

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