Kristine Smith - Killian 2 - Rules of Conflict

RULES OF CONFLICT

by KRISTINE SMITH

An Imprint of HarperCottlns Publishers

www.eosbooks.com

First Eos paperback printing: September 2000

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HarperCollins® is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

Printed in the U.S.A.

WCD 10 987654321

In loving memory of Prince, the best puppy in town.

CHAPTER 1

"Name?"

Jani Kilian shifted her attention from her aching stomach to the admissions clerk who held her

MedRec card by the corner like a dirty dispo. The woman tapped her stylus against the data-entry grid

that rested on the desk in front of her, the staccato impact of plastic on polycoat sounding its get on with

it song.

"Shane Averill," Jani replied, "just like it says in the card." She snatched a peek at her reflection in

the highly polished counter. Chilly, too-dark eyes. Jaw tensed with discomfort. She forced a smile.

The clerk ignored the attempt at sociability. "Date and place of birth?"

Jani heard her voice quiver as she recited the information she'd memorized in preparation for this

encounter. The Earthbound accents that echoed through the cavernous lobby made her nervous.

Coming to Felix had made sense after fleeing Chicago. The closest colony to Earth, it was an easy

burrow to hunker down in. So obvious a stopping place was it that the Service agents who had no doubt

pursued her would have bypassed it for someplace less likely. The Channel Worlds. Or Pearl Way.

But the burrow had proved to be made of quicksand. Expensive but necessary equipment

purchases had devoured her finances, forcing her to remain until she could earn enough money to leave.

Then her dodgy health had taken a serious downturn.

The stomachaches, I can handle. But not the nausea, the vomiting, the pounding heart. She

knew she risked exposure by coming to Neoclona-Felix, but it was the only place on the planet that

could treat her properly, and she had grown sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.

It was a matter of minutes now. One blood study or en-cephaloscan, and she'd be blown.

They promised I had nothing to fear. Cal Montoya, the doctor who had saved her life in

Chicago, and those he spoke for. Promises were made to be broken. Her stomach clenched, and she

leaned into the counter.

"Parents' names and worlds of origin?"

Jani looked around the Neoclona facility's glass and stone lobby as she gave voice to more of the

fictitious Ms. Aver-ill's invented history. Shades of purple—the company's signature hue—shone from

every surface, even the tinted glass that softened the battering Felician sun. Bathed in shafts of

grape-colored sunlight, she felt as though she stood at the bottom of a filled punch bowl.

"I don't suppose you can give me the first letter of your patient string?"

Jani took a steadying breath as the pain in her gut eased.

"P-seven-eight-dot-one-two-dash-four-eight-zee—"

The tapping ceased abruptly. "You know your patient string by heart?"

Jani restrained the urge to turn on her heel, walk out of the lobby, and disappear into the Felix

Majora crowds. "It's just a series of encodes. GateWay nearest my birth planet, followed by world code,

followed by sector—"

The clerk ran the card through a scanner, then watched the disgorged data as it scrolled down the

grid screen. "Shipping administrator for Felix Cruiseways, huh? Figures you can memorize

forty-two-character strings." Her haggard features softened at this discovery of a kindred, data-crunching

soul. She even cracked a smile. "Is Cruiseways a good place to work?"

Jani eyed the clerk's bright purple shirt. Silver caducei, every detail of snake, wing and staff visible

in the holoetch-ing, sparkled from collar and cuffs. The knowledge of what lay behind the symbols made

her shiver. Or maybe it was the subarctic temperature of the lobby. "It's all right. I doubt it's any more

exciting than what you do here. Besides, with the way Earth-colony relations are headed, the shipping

and travel businesses are bound to take a hit. You're better off sticking with Neoclona."

The woman sighed and tugged at her dark blond bangs. Earthbound, judging by the odd twang of

her Felician Spanish, and younger than she initially appeared. Mid-twenties, but her attitude aged her. "It

just didn't turn out to be as exciting as I thought it would when I answered this posting. 'See the colonies!

Meet new people!' " She fingered an entry into the grid. "Check in with the outpatient nurse on

thirty-seven. She'll tell you where to go from there."

Jani reclaimed her record card and offered a commiserating grin of farewell. Dear child, the last

thing in the Commonwealth you want is an exciting life. She waded deeper into the bowl, toward

the lift bank. Trust me.

They asked her the same questions four more times as she scaled the floors to her doctor's office.

Crude way to suss out potential health-care fraud, but with the field of documents forgery as advanced as

it was, the human element usually turned out to be the weakest link. Something about the increasing

isolation and the proximity of sharp metal instruments and blinking analyzers tripped up less-determined

con artists.

But we're the few, the sneaky, the hard-core liars, Jani thought as she followed the latest in the

afternoon's series of white-coated backs down a hallway lined with examining rooms. She had reached

the seventy-second floor, aerie of department chiefs and other demigods—her appointment had been

made with a divinity named Tellinn. Deputy chief of endocrinology. Narrow, slumped shoulders. Shaggy

black hair that needed trimming. Lapdog eyes deep-set in a drawn, pale face. Looked as though he

could use a little of what he sold.

"This way, Ms. Averill," he said as he led her around yet another corner. "You're complaining of

nausea?"

"Yes."

"And you're feeling jittery?"

"Yes," Jani hissed. Two decades of experience compelled her to memorize the locations of the

nearest exits, the security desk, the dead-end hallways. "At first, it just happened after I ate, but now it's

constant."

"Could be one of the food allergies we've been encountering lately," Tellinn said glumly. "Are you

from Elyas? Elyans have an awful time when they come here."

"No, I'm... not." Could they tell she was Acadian from her pattern of genetic mutations, or would

her unique condition swamp out minor colony-to-colony differences?

What won't they find out about me, if they probe deeply enough?

Jani sniffed the filtered air and shivered again. She hated hospitals. Not that this richly appointed

corner of Neoclona's far-flung empire resembled in any way the jury-rigged basement in which, eighteen

years before, the company got its start and she received a second chance at life. But old memories died

hard, and every time she caught a biting whiff of antiseptic no filter could ever totally eliminate, three faces

formed in her mind.

The three empire-builders. Eamon DeVries, who hated her guts. John Shroud, who ... didn't. And

Valentin Parini, who put out the fires that raged between the two polar opposites like the born fireman he

was.

John and Val promised I would be looked after. Their representative had spoken in their

names—she had nothing to worry about. She looked up and down the hallway as she trudged after

Tellinn.

Exit to stairwell—unalarmed—second hallway to the left of the nurses' station.

"Jesus Christ!" Tellinn slid to a halt so quickly Jani almost walked up his back.

"Not nearly so grand," said the man who had stepped out of the shadowed doorway. "Hello,

Hugh."

"Val." Tellinn's voice shrank to a whisper.

"Sorry to drop in so abruptly." Valentin Parmi riffled a hand through his ash brown hair. His hazel

eyes were large and almond-shaped, his nose a finely molded arch, his cheekbones precipitous. Time's

passage had left only thread-fine grooves near the corners of his mouth.

"What—are you—" Tellinn's complexion, moontan to begin with, had turned downright chalky.

The barest hint of recognition flickered in Val's green-brown gaze as it moved to Jani, then back

to Tellinn. "I just punched through the GateWay two days ago. Forgive me for not messaging ahead, but

being so near, I didn't see the point." Full lips curved in a cool smile. "Don't worry, this isn't a surprise

inspection. John didn't send me to Felix with an agenda."

Tellinn drew the back of his hand across his mouth. "How did you get here? No one mentioned

sending out the VIP shuttle."

Val shrugged lightly. "Felix Central Orbital Station to the city shuttleport. Chartered a heliskim.

Landed on that new rooftop pad you installed last year. I must say, I do like the sensation of dropping

onto my hospital from the clouds."

"Like God Almighty himself," Jani muttered. Val responded to the jab with a knowing smirk, but

the glare Tellinn focused on her held murder. And something else. She looked again at Val, who winked.

"Actually, Hugh," he said, pointing to Jani, "I'd like to perform this physical, if you don't mind. I

checked the appointment roster at the nurses' station. Another food allergy— my, my, they seem to be

everywhere these days. They're a pet interest of mine—did you know that?" He waved off the other

doctor's protest. "However, my role in all this is strictly off-paper. Keep your encode in her MedRec

and draw up any scrips yourself. As far as we're all concerned, you're the physician of record." His

all-business expression softened. "I'll explain it to you over dinner tonight." Jani swore his eyelashes

fluttered. "But only if you can fit me in, of course."

Twin rounds of color bloomed in Tellinn's cheeks. "I— did have something, but I—can cancel."

He blinked as though dazed, then handed Val the data-recorder board he had up to that point been

holding in front of his chest like a shield. "I'll be in my office." He shot Val a last, stunned look, then

walked slowly down the hall and disappeared around the corner.

Val watched Tellinn leave with the discerning eye a gourmet would direct toward the dessert

display. Then he turned to Jani, and the look sharpened. "Oh Captain, my Captain." He pointed to the

examining-room door. "In there. No sudden moves. Hands where I can see them."

Jani pushed the panel open; it whined under the force. "You haven't changed a bit, you shameless

bastard. You sandbagged him." She held the door open while Val sauntered past. "You're more than he

can handle, and you know it."

"But with me as a distraction, he won't give you a second thought, will he?"

"He's in love with you!"

"Yes, well. Believe it or not, after a few days with me, he'll be ready for six months without. I'm

the white-chocolate cheesecake in his life—a little piece of me goes a hell of a long way." Val set the

recorder on a table beside an analyzer. "But, first things first." To Jani's surprise, he held out his arms.

"Just a quick hug, Jan. Because I've missed you. Because knowing I'd be seeing you again scared the hell

out of me."

Jani hesitated. Then she walked, a little unsteadily, into Val's embrace. He enclosed her lightly, as

though she might break. She squeezed back harder. He wore a crisp linen day-suit in light green; the stiff

material crackled in her grasp like leaves.

"If you're trying to wring the years out of me, you're too late." He pulled back so he could look her

in the face. His eyes glistened. "You look lovely. My one and only girl." He tugged at one of her short,

black curls, then ran a fingertip down the bridge of her nose. "That's held up well, I must say."

Jani batted his hand away. "Social climber. You gave me a Family face. Damned bones you could

sharpen blades on."

"Bullshit. I passed on the Parini countenance in the only way I cared to."

They grinned idiotically at one another. Then Jani sensed her instincts firing warning shots, and her

smile faded. "How did you know I was here?"

Val sighed. "So much for sweet reminiscence." He frowned as Jani extricated herself from his

arms. "Well, what can I say, except that there's nothing loyal employees and money can't accomplish.

We have spies in every colonial city with a decent port—our Felician contact spotted you soon after you

arrived. When you didn't depart immediately for a more out-of-the-way refuge, John started to worry.

We decided I should come. John feared you'd bolt if you saw him."

"Did he?"

"Well, maybe I needed to convince him. Sit on him. Threaten him a little." Val crossed his arms

and dropped his chin—his skeptical pose. "So?"

Jani shrugged. "I spent all my cash on gear. I needed to earn a berth." She wavered beneath his

stare, weighty with paternal gruff. "And I haven't felt good for months."

"That's what John was afraid of." Val fingered the collar of her white trouser suit. "That's very

pretty. Très Felicienne. You've got five seconds to peel out of it. We have work to do."

First came bloodwork, followed by a series of intrusive swabbings and scopings Jani could have

done without, thank you. Then came an upper GI scan facilitated by her swallowing of a biodegradable,

capsule-sized camera, and completed in spite of Val's insistence that she stand beside him at the display

receiver and watch the full-color, three-dimensional workings of her digestive tract. Her equally adamant

reply that he'd find himself wearing the camera if she did as he asked put a stop to his goading.

"Last part." Val rolled a stress screen the size of a full-length mirror into the center of the room.

"Let's see how those new limbs of yours are doing. Off with the medgown. Get behind the screen. Stand

up straight. Move only when I tell you to."

Jani stripped off the tissuelike gown and stepped behind the dull, milky screen. It brightened to

translucent glass and emitted a barely perceptible hum.

She looked down at her left arm, then her left leg. No longer numb limbs driven by half-formed

nervenets, but fully functional animandroid, the best Neoclona could produce. Replaced almost six

months ago, during her first ever visit to Earth.

"Jani, atten-hut!"

She snapped to attention, chin up, shoulders back. The screen mirrored her image; she avoided

looking at her face. Her light brown skin held up well under the room's chem-illumination. Her legs didn't

look too bad.

But, as always, her eyes drew her in. They looked like two black holes staring back from the

screen surface. She didn't like using that filming. It was the same brand holoVee actors used, formulated

to show up well in the imaging, and less likely to fissure than commercial brands. But it was too dark for

real life. People were starting to comment.

Bet they'd shut up if I let them see what was underneath.

"At ease, Captain. Your whole thorax has gone red. Relax."

Jani took a deep breath and thought about white, puffy clouds. "Can I talk?"

"Yeah. Just don't gesture."

"How do I look?"

"All greens and blues—a veritable study in symmetry and stress distribution. The new limbs are

fine, of course, but the old musculature has held up very well. We really did an exceptional job on you. I

don't believe we've ever topped it."

"Well, you boys always worked best under pressure." Jani's hands clenched, and she thought

about clouds again. "Trying to patch me together while holding off the Admiral-General's office and the

Consulate—can't imagine much more pressure than that."

"Turn ninety degrees to your right, please." At first, it seemed Val would ignore further mention of

their shared past. Then he cleared his throat. "The difficult part was justifying the supplies we ordered.

Most of the Consulate staff had been evac'd out of Rauta Shèràa by then, and the ones that remained

weren't sustaining the types of injuries to justify the materials we shipped in. It reached the point where I

became a daily visitor to the Service Intelligence annex." He chuckled warmly. "Guess that's where I

developed my legendary powers of persuasion. Turn your back to me, please."

Jani turned. "The Vynshà had taken the perimeter settlements by then. All they'd left to do was

declare themselves 'rau' and send their Haárin advance troops into Rauta Shèràa to prepare the way. The

Family members who'd supported the Laum were scrambling to realign themselves. Some pretty

formidable names feared for their lives. You'd think Intelligence would have had their hands full getting

them out of Rauta Shèràa alive."

Val sighed. "Yes, the Vynshà were exhibiting remarkably human vindictiveness, weren't they? I

think Intelligence was concerned John, Eamon, and I were on the same short list. We were bad boys,

remember? Turn ninety degrees, please."

Jani rotated slowly. The rough sensapad on which she stood made the soles of her feet itch. "Did

you really think they'd have killed you?" She tried to shift her footing, but stopped when she heard Val

grumble. "Nema considered the three of you esteemed enemies. A chief propitiator's regard should have

been enough to save you."

Val huffed. "We had traveled pretty far into the land of forbidden knowledge by then. Besides,

Nema was on his Temple's fecal roster. His regard and a vend token wouldn't have bought us a cup of

coffee." A series of clicks sounded as he downloaded the screen data into the recorder. "All done. You

can come out now."

Jani eased from behind the screen and reached to the floor for the crumpled medgown. The chill

tile helped ease the burning on the bottoms of her feet, but before she could examine the damage, Val

called to her.

"Let's have a look at those sweet baby jades of yours," he said as he wheeled the screen against

the wall. "Strip off those eyefilms."

"My eyefilms?" Jani backed against the sinkstand. Her ankles prickled. She stifled a cough.

"What's the matter with you?" Val took a step closer. "What's wrong?"

Jani coughed again as her lungs filled with scancrete. "Can't breathe. My feet—" She slumped

against the sink-stand. Black patches grew and faded before her eyes.

Val rushed to her. He knelt down, grasped her ankle, and snatched a glance at the bottom of her

foot. Then he looked back at the sensapad. "Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!" He hurried to the pad

platform, tore the thin polymer film from its metal base, rolled it into a tight tube, and shoved it under his

jacket and into the waistband of his trousers. Then he rushed to the door, pushing through the gap before

it opened completely. "I need a shockpack!"

He returned, dragging an equipment-laden skimcart; white coats streamed in after him like a flood

of milk. Two of them lifted Jani onto the scanbed while Tellinn clipped a monitor relay to her ear. "Hurry

the hell up, Val," he snapped. "Her oxygen saturation's dropping like a rock."

Prodded with probes, raked over by scanners, Jani watched the frantic bustle with growing

disinterest. Her world had become one of deadened emotion, blurring color, choppy sound and motion.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Val work over her right arm, then felt the pinch of an injector. The

heaviness in her chest eased, and she inhaled with a wheezy rattle.

"Blood pressure's up. A hundred over fifty-five." The source of the announcement, a silver-haired

woman with chief of staff etched into her ID badge fixed Val with a glare. "What happened, Parini?"

Val's eyes locked with Jani's. They know, Jan, they said, as the once-glib mouth worked

soundlessly. Sweat trickled down the face he'd copied for her, in a basement lab outside a war-torn alien

city, when he and John and Eamon had learned enough about her to realize rebuilding her old one wasn't

an option.

They know you 're here.

2

"Here, drink this." Val refilled the cup and pushed it over to Jani's side of the table. "Now, while

it's hot."

Jani eyed the black, foamy brew with distaste. John's coffee had always tasted like a gift from the

gods. Val's, on the other hand. ... "Don't you think three cups are enough?" She belched quietly. "My

stomach's going to go critical any second." She gazed longingly across the table at his iced lemonade. "I

think we can ease up on the caffeine—my breathing's fine."

Val had returned to the bar, set in a sunken alcove in the middle of his spacious hotel room, and

continued to rummage through coolers and cupboards. "Just keep drinking— you're not out of the

woods yet. Damn it, I injected you with enough adrenosol to punch a resistant male one and a half times

your weight through the ceiling, and it just brought your blood pressure up into low-normal. I couldn't

risk giving you more, not with all those expert witnesses around." He slammed the cabinet door.

"I got enough of the fish-eye as it was. 'Wasn't that dose a tad high, Val? What were you doing

to her, anyway?' They know the story of the patient we patched together on Shèrá, and not all of them

approved of our methods. I swear they all think I was experimenting on you, and it backfired. You'd

think that damned augmentation of yours could have helped you out."

"You know Service augies only work in threatening situations." Jani fingered the tiny round scar on

the back of her neck where skull met spine. The large bore canula of a ster-eotaxic headset had punched

a hole there over twenty years ago, then injected the self-assembling components of her little passenger.

"Discharge a shooter across my bow, I can get as frosty and functional as you please." Only then would

the tiny glands adjacent to her amygdala release their reservoirs of pseudocatecholamines. Sharpen her

wits. Ease her panic. Dull her pain.

But if I'm not pissed off or scared senseless, I'm on my own. She pulled in a deep, wheezing

breath, and choked down another sip of coffee. "So what happened?" Her stomach gurgled ominously.

Val returned to the table, the results of his explorations clutched in his hands. He piled all the

stomach-settling food he could find, dispos of crackers and peppermint candies, by Jani's cup, then fell

into the chair across from her. "I've got the head of Security running scan searches and background

checks to see who the hell could have put the mat there. I'm not optimistic. It was either a Service or

Cabinet plant, and they're probably off-world by now." He fumbled with a packet of crackers. "As for

what was in it, I won't know for sure until I test it, and I can't test it properly until I get it home. Whatever

it was, it had your number. You stood on it for no more than ten minutes, and the soles of your feet look

like someone went after them with a strap."

Jani winced. Her heavily salved feet, encased in thick, truecotton booties, tingled with a

maddening, itchy burn. The booties had been treated with anti-irritants and healing accelerants, but they

couldn't work miracles. Walking promised to be a real treat for the next few days.

Wherever I happen to be. She checked her timepiece; six hours had elapsed since her episode.

Most of that time had been spent in the office of Dr. Fanshul, the tart-tongued chief of staff, who had

argued vehemently that it was in Jani's best interest to stay in the hospital overnight for observation. Val

had put an end to the debate, and blown his cover in the process, by signing her out under his care. By

the time all the signatures were in place, half the facility knew something strange had happened on the

seventy-second floor involving one of the "Big Three" and a mysterious "woman in white."

"So?" Val laid claim to one of the peppermints. "Have I fucked up your situation here sufficiently,

or should I try for full-page adverts in tomorrow morning's newssheets?" He smiled broadly, his teeth and

lips coated bright blue by the candy.

Jani knew he wanted to coax a smile out of her. Under different circumstances, it might have

worked. "I have to get off-planet. Within the hour."

Val slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the table. "My ship's having some refit

work done. It'll be ready in two days. Let me take you—"

"I can't wait two days."

"You better find a way. Face reality. You almost died. As things stand now, I can hear you

breathe across the room— that situation isn't going to change for days. And if you try to do much

walking on those feet of yours, you risk a nasty infection."

"Can't you give me something to see me through?"

Val's expression grew pained. "Jan, I'm not sure how the drugs I have on hand would affect you.

As you learned to your detriment in Chicago, your response to some common medications has become

idiosyncratic." He stared moodily into his lemonade. "For all I know, there's nothing wrong with that

sensapad. You may have simply developed a sensitivity to that particular biopolymer, and damn it, if

exposure to something like that is enough to knock you for a loop, what else out there could affect you?"

"That's not your problem."

"Monkey's ass it's not my problem! You—" Val fell silent. Jani could almost hear the click of a

balance as he weighed his words. "Jan, your body is going through some changes right now. We know

why, but the how, what, when, and where have us a little baffled." He looked at the ceiling, into the

depths of his glass, everywhere but at her.

"Why can't you say it, Val?" Jani took another sip of coffee, and swallowed hard. "Eighteen years

ago, you patched me together with tissue manufactured from human and idomeni genetic material. You

thought you'd deactivated most of the idomeni genes, but you hadn't. You thought you'd made it so I'd

live for two hundred years, but you didn't stop to think what I might live as."

Val blinked rapidly. "Jani," he said, his voice cracking, "you're wrong."

"I'm hybridizing. I'm not human anymore, but I'm not idomeni either. I can eat Haárin spices that

would blister the inside of your mouth, but some of their herbs and nuts go through me like poison. I can't

drink human tea anymore. I can barely choke down anything sweet, but I can peel a lemon and eat it like

you would an orange." Jani heard the tremor in her voice. When she tallied up the small things— that was

when it scared her. "Nema was right. He said this would happen, that no matter how you tried to stop it,

I would continue to change."

"Jani, Nema is a religious fanatic with an agenda as long as my arm. Let's leave your medical care

to experts, shall we?"

"And which experts would those be, Val? The ones who got me into this mess in the first place?"

Val flinched as though she'd slapped him. The room lighting accentuated the lines near his mouth,

signs of age Jani couldn't find around her own no matter how hard she looked. "Jani, we did the best we

could for you."

"That you did, Val, that you did. Thanks to you, I have eyes that look like two corroded copper

discs and eating habits that make people stare. I york my guts a couple times a week, and between the

nausea and the shivery shakes, my every day is a joy. And let's not forget that this condition of mine has

reinforced Nema's grand theory that I'm his heir apparent, which gives him the right to take charge of the

rest of my life if I ever let him get his hands on me, which I don't believe I will, thank you!" She glared at

the stricken man. "I've had time to think these past few months. Way too much time. I hate being this way

and I didn't have a choice. And now that the Service and the Commonwealth government know I'm

alive, all they have to do is follow the trail. I'm a goddamn walking disaster siren!"

"Jani, we—" Val's voice cracked. "Do you hate us that much?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"No." He sniffed. Cleared his throat. "You need more in-depth assessment than I can give you

here. Come back with me to Seattle. You and I always got along, and Eamon isn't around much these

days." He hesitated. "And whatever you think of John, he would like very much to see you."

Bits of memory flitted through Jani's mind. Some were more vivid than others. "Does he still play

the violin?"

"Yes." Val's voice lifted hopefully. "You'd enjoy listening to him now—he's gotten rather good."

"Just the three of us basking in one another's company and listening to John fiddle. That sounds

familiar." Jani looked out the tableside window. Fifty floors below, early-evening skimmer traffic

crammed Felix Majora's main thoroughfare. Above the nearby mountains, barely visible through an

artificial forest of scancrete and glass, the setting sun glowed like a weld spot. "You and John live in a

dream world. Eamon would know better. He wouldn't be able to shove me out the door fast enough." A

cramp shot through her abdomen. She tore open a packet of crackers and forced them down.

"Jan, we can keep you safe. No one will even suspect you're Earthside."

"Really? Is Neoclona a sovereign state? I read the news-sheets, Val. I watch the 'Vee. Funny the

stories that keep cropping up. Rehashes about how human-idomeni relations took a dive after Knevçet

Shèràa. Garbled rumor about the death of Rikart Neumann. Portraits of Evan as the emotionally battered

son and lover. Can't you see what's happening? His attorneys are scrambling for a defense, and I'm it."

"Jani, he gave the order to have your transport blown out of the sky to cover up his involvement in

Knevçet Shèràa. Nobody's that good a scrambler."

"Oh yeah? Has he been formally charged?"

"John knows he's guilty. He told me—"

"Has Evan been formally charged?" Jani nodded as the uncertainty flickered in Val's eyes. "The

term is plea bargain. He's telling the Service all about me. I won't even need a trial—they'd just shoot

me at O'Hare."

"We have influence."

"Val, I killed Neumann. My commanding officer. The first N in NUVA-SCAN. The Families are

closing rank." She stood and headed for the door. "Your influence and a vend token." She took one step.

Two. Before she could take a third, popping sensations worked across both soles, followed by stinging

wetness, then raw agony as though she skated over metal blades.

Jani didn't feel herself fall; she only knew she was on the floor. As pain radiated up her legs and

she gasped for breath, she felt a hand close over her shoulder.

"You're not running out on us, Jan," Val said gently. "Not this time. And when you finally do go

somewhere, it's going to be with me."

In the end, they compromised.

"I don't like this one damn bit." Val snaked the Neoclona staff skimmer down one of Felix

Majora's less-traveled side streets. The sleek, silver two-seater didn't meet Jani's standards as a getaway

vehicle. It drew the eye like a stone skipping over water. Pedestrians stopped to stare as it passed.

At least it wasn't purple.

"You have to keep your date with Hugh," she said. "He can tell you what they're saying about us in

the staff room."

Val checked a street sign, compared it to the name on his directional screen, and frowned. "He's

not like that. No matter his feelings, he's always kept his own counsel."

"Oh, I'm sure you can work around his better judgment. Use your legendary powers of

persuasion." Jani watched out her window as large commercial buildings gave way to the smaller

residential structures of the city's mountain side. It took her some time to realize Val hadn't spoken; she

turned to find him eyeing her with ill-concealed discomfort.

Kristine Smith - Killian 2 - Rules of Conflict

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