A Glimmering From Afar series
I see, or think I see,
A glimmering from afar;
A beam of day, that shines for me,
To save me from despair.
William Cowper
Joy and Peace in Believing by William Cowper.
Set free from present sorrow,
We cheerfully can say,
E'en let the unknown tomorrow
Bring with it what it may!
The Unknown Tomorrow
Chapter One
"Why is a bastard working here? I saw the tattoo on his hand," a querulous voice said two floors below the Major Interplanetary Crime floor where I kept my desk. As a sentinel, I was constantly screening all kinds of sensory input and I knew how to let most of it just flow past me, but there were a few words that would bring my full attention to bear on the speaker.
Bastard was one of them. So were guide, sentinel, Blair, Sandburg, and Yana. And of course, my own name. Jim Ellison.
I closed my eyes, leaning back in my chair so I could slip slightly into a zone to focus better. Blair had gone down to that level earlier to clean the floors, since we were waiting for some witness statements to be sent in from Jack Pendergrast. Jack thought they might help clear up an old case of Blair's and mine. One that meant a hell of a lot to the both of us.
"That guy? Name's Sandburg and he belongs to Protector Ellison." Now that deep voice belonged to Mitchell Farmington. He was a big macmoose of a man, bigger than Simon. "He helps Ellison out mostly. Does some cleaning around the offices, enough to keep Probation off his back."
"But he's a bastard."
"Look, New Guy. Ellison doesn't care. Banks doesn't care. So you and me, we don't care, get it? Besides, he's a decent sort. Smart, too. As a matter of fact, I think he just got awarded his doctorate. I heard Banks made a big deal about it, announced it at a meeting of his top people."
"You said he belongs to Ellison? Did you mean 'with Ellison' instead?" New Guy asked and that made me want to snarl. Blair did not 'belong' to me, but that was how almost everyone saw us.
"No. I meant that he belongs to Ellison. See, Ellison, he's a sentinel. He picked Sandburg to be his guide, only the way I heard it, Sandburg, he didn't get much of a choice. Like that old Earth saying, the kid was stuck between a rock and hard place."
"I don't understand what you mean by that," New Guy whined. Listening, I smirked a little. Blair was fond of Old Earth sayings and he'd said them so often everyone else who talked with him ended up saying them, too.
Farmington snorted. "It means Sandburg had been convicted of smuggling and selling Yana, but Ellison and his lawyer argued that Ellison needed the kid, and only the kid would do, because of Ellison being exposed to him or something along those lines. Old time sentinel stuff that pulled rank on just sending the kid to be mind-wiped and sent off to work for twenty-five years. You ask me, Ellison just liked the kid's looks and decided he wanted him, and his lawyer found a loophole."
"Kid? That guy's no kid."
"Habit of mine to call him that," Farmington said, a shrug in his voice. "Picked it up from Banks. Sandburg was a young guy when Ellison bonded with him. But he's been here longer than me, and I've been here ten years."
"So Sandburg's a bastard and a guide and a criminal? And he and Ellison are sex partners? I heard about what happens with bonding."
"Yes to all four. Although about being a criminal, most people think he just got in over his head or was tricked into smuggling Yana in his ship. He was convicted, only he can serve out his time as Ellison's guide. Ellison's good to him, so don't try to make life hard for the kid."
"I don't associate with bastards," New Guy said, sounding disgusted.
"Like I said, Sandburg's okay. Ellison is too, but he can be a surly son-of-a-spacer, especially if someone decides to have fun at Sandburg's expense." Farmington's voice grew hard. "So let me give you some friendly advice. Either steer clear of Sandburg, or play nice, because you don't want Jim Ellison to think you're a problem, not if
you want to work here. Now, are we done with the history lesson? Because we haven't even started on your responsibilities yet..."
"Jim, I know what you're doing. I can feel it" Blair calmly muttered under his breath, still two floors down. "It's obvious that Farmington is talking about me to that new protecter, since he keeps glancing over. Don't make a fuss, okay?"
I switched to telepathy. "You know me, Chief."
"Yep. After twelve years together, I sure do. So don't go glaring at those guys, okay? Hey, have you heard back from Jack yet?"
"No. Don't get your hopes up, Sandburg. He said it was a long shot, at best."
"I'm trying not to. But to finally have a lead again, it's hard to wait on the news."
"I know. I want to clear your name as much as you do, Qhusi. See you be a free man."
"Even if this tip doesn't pan out, it'll be true in three more years."
"But if we can't prove you had nothing to do with the Yana being found on your bird, then you'll always be a convicted criminal."
"To most people I will anyway, no matter what happens. Look, I'm almost done down here, then I'm coming back up. I can always straighten out that mess you call your filing system to keep from climbing the walls."
"There's nothing wrong with my filing system, Sandburg."
"..."
"Yeah, Yeah."
"Bye, Jim."
x x x
It was late by the time Jack contacted us. Blair, now on his own time, was writing an article about the properties of one of the jungle healing plants he'd researched on Quyllur. He couldn't publish it on his own, though. One of his probation restrictions; one of many. He'd be credited in a footnote only.
I was restless, and I envied Blair his ability to channel the edginess I knew he was feeling into something productive.
"Which one of those freeloaders is going to ride to glory on your coattails this time?" I asked Blair, channeling my restlessness into wishing I could kick the ass of whichever professor was going to benefit from Blair's hard luck this time.
"Dickerson."
"Mick the Dick? Environmental Anthro?"
"That's the one." Blair shot me an unimpressed look over the top of his glasses. "You're not helping, Jim. You know how I have to work the system, or else I'd never get any of my work published. It's all about the data, anyway. What I'm learning could help make breakthroughs in the medical field. So just chill on those impulses to teach my lead authors a lesson, okay."
Sometimes Blair just amazes me; he's such a good person. Always striving to help other people, always finding a way to work around the restrictions placed on him but stay within the rules. Most of the time. Whenever he'd crossed that line in the past it had been for me. I wouldn't even be alive if he hadn't.
I felt the air currents near me changing and without looking I snatched the ball out of the air that Blair had winged at me.
"Why do I feel like you're treating me like my spirit animal?" I complained, but I started bouncing the ball against the wall.
Blair laughed, and turned his attention back to composing his article on his slave.
Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. Repeat. Repeat again. I found my thoughts circling back to the beginning of my relationship with Blair. My first case with MIC, to break the smuggling ring that was flooding New Rainier with Yana, known on the street as Black Death. Blair was the main suspect because of the correlation of his trips from Quyllur with the drug hitting the streets of New Rainier. Getting to know him when I went undercover, liking him despite myself. Falling for him. Arresting him. Soul bonding to prevent him killing himself. Believing in his innocence but not being able to come up with the proof to clear his name. Taking the unorthodox strategy of using my status as a sentinel and his as a guide to stop him from being sentenced to twenty-five years as a mind-wiped convict. Instead, he'd had to bond with me.
It wasn't right. But it was the best I could do to save him, since I hadn't been able to clear him of the charges.
Ten years of his sentence was later forgiven because of his undercover work on a case, although before it was over Blair had been raped by the terrorist he and I took down, Garrett Kincaid. Just one more injustice that he'd endured. Was still enduring, and if this intelligence from our old friend Jack Pendergrast didn't pan out, then even after his sentence was completed more doors would be slammed in his face from being thought guilty of his charges, more even than those that would be because Blair was a bastard. He had no family that would claim him. No status in our society. My father could have done it, adopted him. But he had never even met Blair. I'd swallowed my pride, gone to him to ask for this. He'd refused, and I hadn't seen him since.
But Blair was loved. By me. By our friend Meghan. And he had people on his side such as Simon Banks, the head of MIC, and Joel Taggart, his probation officer, who was putting off retirement until Blair's sentence was done, just so he could look out for him.
Thud, thud, thud- The ping of a holo-message arriving caused Blair to look up from his slave, and I grabbed the ball and dropped it on my desk. Blair jumped up and I joined him in the holo-booth, where we would be scanned and our images and voices would be sent to Jack.
Jack Pendergrast's image was suddenly there, within the space delineated by the holo-emitters for receiving messages. It had been three years since we'd seen him, and he looked a little grayer on top, a little heavier in the belly.
But his smile was as welcoming as ever. "Jim. Hey, kid. Still got that mop of hair, I see."
"Jack, you old son-of-a-spacer. Since you're not undercover any more, we got to get together," I said, glad that Jack had gotten out of this latest case with his skin intact. Word was that it had been a tough one; Jack had been under for over two years.
"Sure. When I finish wrapping up this case, we can meet on Quyllur. I've still got my beach house and it's been years since we drank down a bottle of Agrasa." Jack's expression turned serious. "Jim, the guy talked, but I had to use a truth test on him. He did business with the three you've been looking for, but it was eleven years ago. He said, well, you can hear his testimony yourself. I've sent it to you. Jim, Blair. It's not looking good."
"Why? Blair asked quietly, but his hands were clenching.
"My informant, he's got a finger in every illegal pie there is and he said nobody's done business with Iris or Chance or Rob for over a decade. Not since he heard they stole the Orb of the Sanorans."
x x x