Vale of Stars (22 page)

“Should we call Jene?” Dolen whispered when the wirebus left Valhalla Dome. The two had been almost completely silent while in Valhalla, as if speech itself would somehow call attention to them and result in their recapture.

“I don’t know. I suppose so,” Kuarta said. She carefully dug out her phone from her belt sheath and handed it to Dolen. He hid the phone behind his hand and spoke quietly into it, careful not to wake his daughter.

“Jene Halfner,” he said, and the phone automatically connected him. He heard Jene’s recorded voice tell him she was unavailable right now. Dolen said, “Urgent,” and the phone connected again. Presently, Jene’s voice came through the receiver.

“Dolen?”

“Jene, we’ve had an…event. We’re headed back to New Chicago. With Yallia.”

“What? How?”

Dolen chose his words with care. In his newfound attitude towards his government, he suspected everything. Someone might be listening in. “That’s all I can tell you now.”

There was a short silence before Jene said slowly, “All right. I’m still with the Commissar-General. I’ll be in touch when I’m done.”

Dolen could not resist one question. “Any progress?”

“Some. I’ll finish here soon.” She clicked off and Dolen put the phone in his own pouch, thoughtfully gazing off towards the green-tinged landscape.

“Anything?” Kuarta whispered.

“Not really. She’ll come home soon.” Dolen looked back out on the landscape. Would his daughter live out there, in the swirling green gas? Would she be the only one?

Kuarta stroked Yallia’s hair and noted it had a definite copper tinge that it had not had mere weeks ago.

*   *   *

“Before I leave you, sir, I wish to make it clear one more time that I intend to bring this matter before the general Assembly in special session. I fully expect you to call the Assembly soon. If you do not, I will contact Commissars personally to bring the matter into the open.” Jene found Newfield surprisingly haggard even though he was younger than Jene herself. It struck Jene suddenly that Newfield was not a natural leader. He had been placed into this position on recommendation from the last Commissar-General, a man whom Jene had never served under but who had a reputation for listening overmuch to his advisors instead of his own conscience. Already, murmurings of a similar nature had begun to surface about Newfield.

“I understand. Commissar Halfner, you seem to think that I enjoyed presiding over this mess. Nothing could be further from the truth. I expect this crisis to ruin me politically. I don’t know what I could have done differently, but I know that any solution I applied would have resulted in my ruin. But better, I think, for that to happen than the colony itself to be jeopardized.”

Jene had come into the meeting full of fire, blazing away at her superior without hindrance. And he had listened to her. He had made no statement defending his actions other than to say, repeatedly, “I had to make a choice.” Even under the circumstances, Jene could not but feel pity for the man before her. His had not been the hand behind this, Jene knew. Newfield was simply weak. Tann controlled him.

Jene’s voice lost some of its hardness. “I would like to return to my home now, sir. Is there anything else?”

“No. We’ll keep good care of your granddaughter, Jene,” Newfield said with sincerity. Jene kept her face impassive.

As if on cue, a muted buzzing sounded on Newfield’s desk. He said to the air, “Go ahead,” and the Valhalla Police Captain’s head and shoulders materialized in mid-air before his desk.

“Sir, Captain Sheihr speaking.”

Newfield narrowed his eyes. Jene did not move. The Commissar-General either did not mind that she was still here or had already mentally dismissed her. In any case, she would listen in unless ordered to leave. “Yes?”

“Sir, I’m at Valhalla Hospital. Staff called us to respond to…an unusual case. Doctor Karin Onizaka has asked to be placed under arrest for assault on Carll Tann.”

Newfield leaned in to the hologram. “Explain that.”

“Sir, Tann is under doctor’s care now. I am told he suffered blunt trauma to the skull and received a mild concussion as a result. I think they’re checking his brain function now. Doctor Onizaka says she hit him with a chair.”

“Why?”

“She won’t say, sir.”

Newfield considered for a moment, then said, “I want to speak with her.” Sheihr’s head and shoulders moved out of pickup to be replaced by Onizaka.

“Yes, sir?” she said. Jene thought she could hear satisfaction in her voice.

“What the hell is going on? Why did you attack Tann?”

“He was going to put the Verdafner child outside.”

“What?” Jene exploded.

Newfield snapped his head up and looked at Jene. “We’re done here. I’ll call you if I need you.” Jene nodded and left the office. As she backed out the doorway, she saw Newfield bury his head in his hands for a moment before turning to face Onizaka’s image again.

*   *   *

“So there was no fracture?” Tann asked the doctor.

“No, but you had a fairly serious concussion. You might want to stay here for a few days.” The doctor knew there were special circumstances in this case—the Valhalla police had been all over the ward, and their arrest of Doctor Onizaka was the talk of the entire hospital. Still, he did not let that cloud his treatment recommendations.

“That does not suit my needs, Doctor, though I thank you for your care. Now, is there further therapy you wish me to participate in? If so,” Tann continued before the doctor could respond, “please contact my office at your earliest convenience.” Tann slid off the exam table and suppressed a wince. His head still throbbed even through the pain-blocking medication he had been supplied with. He smiled as best he could at the doctor and strode from the exam room. Four burly Valhalla constables were waiting in the hallway, their captain among them.

“Where are they?” Tann snapped, turning sharply as he left the exam room and heading towards the hospital exit. The constables fell into step behind him even as the captain shuffled to Tann’s side.

“We don’t know, sir. No one saw them leave.”

Tann’s lip twitched in irritation. “All right. I want all of Valhalla dome searched. Discreetly, Captain. Begin by contacting any constables who might be on patrol near the transfer tube. Perhaps one of them saw something.” Tann knew how unlikely that was, but it was worth trying.

“Sir, what if they’re not in Valhalla?”

“Oh, I rather think they are not, Captain. But you do your job here, just in case. While you’re checking on the transfer tube, I want you to place Commissar Halfner under arrest if she is still in Valhalla. Look in her office first.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember, Captain—discretion is paramount here. We don’t want to alarm the public.”

“I understand.” The captain added, “What about Doctor Onizaka?”

“She’s already in custody. Leave her for now, but I want her isolated from all visitors.”

“All visitors? She has the right to visitors as she pleases, sir.”

“I’m rescinding that right as of now.”

The captain’s stride faltered a moment. “I—I don’t think you have the authority to do that, sir. I’ll have to contact the Commissar-General.”

Tann shrugged casually. “Go ahead. I’m sure he will be happy to hear from you. He’s got a dangerous mutant loose in the colony somewhere. I’m sure he’ll want to discuss jurisprudence with you. Oh, perhaps it would be wise to select a successor before you call him, just in case.”

The captain cleared his throat nervously. “I’ll see to Onizaka, sir.”

“Good.” Tann dismissed the officers with a wave of his hand and continued out of the hospital. His memory was fragmentary—he remembered having the accursed shippie women right where he had wanted them for twelve years when all went black. He had awakened in the hospital and had to be filled in by that imbecile police captain.

He had enough of his faculties to remember where Kuarta Verdafner lived, however.

Dunbarston had gathered his entire twelve-person force and had equipped them with full riot ordinance. Tann could not help but nod in satisfaction when he met the New Chicago police captain at the transfer tube precisely at noon. It had been a scant twelve hours since the raid on the Halfner apartment and only five since Onizaka’s treachery.

“Sir. We’re all ready. We’ve got both our transports prepared,” Dunbarston explained, his eyes darting to the few wirebus passengers who looked at the assemblage with curiosity. The wirebus had stopped to pick up and drop off passengers and light freight at the New Chicago/Valhalla transfer tube. At least a dozen people were seated in the bus with their windows open, all looking intently at Dunbarston and his riot force. He shifted in his armor, adjusting his screamer carbine slung over his shoulder. The man’s discomfort was obvious—he was anxious to get Tann and his force inside the transports.

“You have verified the mutant is in the Verdafner’s apartment?” Tann said casually, making no attempt to keep his comment from the civilian passengers. He had deliberately designated the transfer tube as the staging area for Dunbarston’s officers, aware of the civilian traffic they would encounter.

Dunbarston stammered, “Yes, sir. Two of our constables confirm that the two parents and the child entered the apartment building about four hours ago. We’re ready to get into the transports,” he repeated lamely. Again, he glanced at the wirebus and saw that at least some of the passengers had heard the comment. There was a general commotion inside the bus. Dunbarston swore silently, then added, “Sir, we should get going. If you are worried about a riot, the more time we delay, the more—”

“Oh, I’m not particularly worried about a riot. If one was going to happen, it would have happened by now, right, Captain?”

“I’m not sure, sir. If—”

“No matter. Let’s go,” he said, and, almost cheerfully, entered the nearest of the two transports. Dunbarston directed his force to their trucks and the fourteen men and women headed to New Chicago’s residential sector.

This time, the officers did not cast their eyes downwards in shame for what they were about to do. This time, they looked at each other with bold camaraderie. They checked each other’s gear and made minor adjustments to armor straps and helmet fittings. They checked and rechecked communications gear with a businesslike air. Tann watched with detached interest. An officer sitting opposite him on one of the seats caught his eye.

“Didn’t think we’d be back here so soon, Mr. Tann,” she said, grinning behind her faceplate.

“Nor did I.”

She grunted and cast her eyes over Tann’s bruised forehead. She gestured with her chin and said, “How’d you pick that up?”

“A disagreement with a colleague.”

She stuck out her lower lip and nodded crookedly. “Must have been some disagreement. Have anything to do with this mutant?”

Tann was spared the necessity of fabricating another lie by Dunbarston’s angry voice. “Kolski! Quiet down and stay focused.”

Kolski glanced at Dunbarston. “Yes, sir,” she said, but Tann’s practiced ears heard the disrespect behind her words. He watched her as she settled back into her seat. She had said the word “mutant.” Obviously, Dunbarston would not have briefed his police using loaded language such as that—this Kolski must have picked up the term elsewhere. Tann smiled. He had made a few calculatedly injudicious remarks to prominent people in New Chicago before leaving Valhalla, and the rumors were already flying. The rest of his plan could not be far from fruition.

Only a few minutes later, Tann heard the driver grunt something in the forward compartment.

“What?” Dunbarston said.

“A disturbance ahead, sir. Looks like rioters.” The driver slowed the vehicle as the five officers in the back of the truck tensed.

Dunbarston twisted in his seat and studied the vehicle’s tactical display. “Dammit! All right, let us out. I don’t want to take the truck into them.” Dunbarston grabbed the radio and ordered the second police vehicle to stop as well. Tann grabbed hold of a strap above him to steady himself as the truck braked to a stop.

The rear door opened and the five officers scrambled out and formed a double-file line with their counterparts from the other van. By the time Tann had climbed out of the truck, all twelve of them were assembled and awaited Dunbarston’s orders. Tann could hear the distant din of angry humanity from ahead. The two drivers had placed their vehicles behind one of the other apartment towers in the residential sector, out of sight.

Dunbarston shouted his instructions to the force. “Squad A will disperse the riot using screamers when possible, paralyzers when they must. Squad B will break into three pairs and detain or arrest anyone who openly defy police or deface public property. Any threats to Dome integrity take precedence—if you see anyone with a weapon that could conceivably damage the Dome, you are to take action immediately to prevent such destruction. That goes for squad A, too. If we get into a fight with the rioters, form up into a phalanx and assume full defensive posture. We’ll use numbjel if it gets too wild.” He looked the group over. “Any questions?”

There were none, or if there were, no officer voiced them. Dunbarston nodded to the two women (one of whom was Kolski, Tann noted) at the head of the lines. They started off towards the rioters, the group designated as squad A forming a horizontal line and advancing behind their clear plastic shields. The second group paired up and followed them.

Dunbarston motioned to Tann. “Come inside with me. We can monitor from there,” he said, climbing back inside the truck. He switched on a bank of monitors positioned in the upper corners of the truck and adjusted some other controls. The view on the monitors was evidently from the helmets of the police officers. The shots were clear and steady, and as Tann watched, he could see the lead officer of squad A round a corner and come face to face with the riot.

Dunbarston switched a toggle and the truck was filled with angry shouts.