Chapter 7
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay; life has kept me busy. Thanks to the Wrecking Kru as always.
Secretary Delacourt flicked almost lazily at the "end transmission" button on her desktop, causing the holograms of the CCB Eastern regional heads in Kyoto, Melbourne, and Karachi to disappear in unison. It was only the beginning of her day, and, like almost all of them nowadays, it promised to be long, unduly stressful, and full of unpleasant surprises. When she spoke into her comlink to her droid servant in the next room, she was surprised to hear the irritation, along with the fatigue, in her own voice.
"Espresso, Olga. The strong stuff," she snapped, in French, into her earpiece.
"Right away, Madame Secretary."
She sighed deeply after the brief connection ended. It wasn't like her to lose her temper, even if it was only a droid.
The last week or so had made her feel, well, old. Though, like most of her Founders Generation colleagues, Jessica Delacourt was rapidly pushing the double century mark, her energy levels and physical appearance were much closer to a woman in her mid-forties, that vague purgatory of an age where every senior Elysian seemed to permanently linger thanks to the med-bays. Today, though, she was feeling every one of her years. In her bones, her skin, her head. The disturbing intelligence coming in from the Eastern Region had done nothing to alleviate the splitting headache, either
There is much chatter on this 'secret weapon' of yours, Hideki Matsuyama had warned in his somber, reserved way from Kyoto. Of her three intelligence heads from that part of Earth…all of whom, by nature, were power-hungry and treacherous to some degree…he was the one she trusted the most. The best barometer, as it were, a canary in a coal mine. If Matsuyama was worried, then Delacourt was too. It is as if every hacker and criminal on Earth not only knows of it, but is determined to steal it.
The other two, Salim al-Hassani and Iphegenia Lowry, had provided confirmation. Someone, somewhere, had spread the wild rumor that Secretary Delacourt possessed some super-weapon to deal, once and for all, with Earth's endless uprisings, insurrections, and illicit voyages to Elysium. It was all over the various networks like some new, virulent plague.
As Olga obediently brought in a steaming cup of rich espresso, Jessica couldn't help but smirk. They may think I have some game-changing weapon…she sipped at the brew…but they have no idea what, or rather, who it is.
She stood from her vast chrome and glass desk, feeling like a menagerie animal kept too long in too small a cage. There would be more than enough sitting time today, and she needed to stretch her legs. Back and forth she walked, feeling the effects of the premium coffee already coursing through her body. There was so little time left to herself these days, with the stepped-up security and the endless meetings, not to mention her role as Lorelei's guardian…
Jessica stopped before her panoramic office window, not even bothering to admire the glowing, distant blue sphere of Earth in the distance. Instead, her attention was focused, laserlike, on the tiny espresso cup in her hand, tendrils of steam curling up from the finely wrought Limoges china. If someone had walked in on her then, even Olga, they might have noticed her delicate features were creased in an uncharacteristic scowl. It was Lorelei, of course, and not the rumors of Earthly revolution, which caused her the most grief these days. Her niece wasn't a little girl anymore…and she was already giving sneak previews of what were sure to be rebellious teenage years. She and Lorelei hadn't spoken since their argument the night before, though Jessica had left several messages on the girl's comlink, all of which had gone unanswered. It didn't bother her as such…Agent Smith always watched over her like a hawk, and would have informed her at the slightest whisper of trouble…yet something was bothering her, an itch she, even in her position of power and prestige, couldn't quite scratch.
Am I just as negligent a parent as my sister?
There was no easy way to answer the question. In her heart, Jessica desperately wanted to believe it was an emphatic "no." She had kept Lorelei safe for five years, provided extravagantly for her, even gently started to nudge her niece into the kind of skilled, specialized training she would need as a future leader on the torus.
And yet something was missing, like a small pinch of some ingredient that might make a bland dish worth eating. How well did she really know Lorelei? The girl spent almost all her free time in Smith's company or in those damned sims, or else with her friends from school. With Jessica herself routinely working eighteen-hour days, and Lorelei almost always out of the house, that left precious little time for the kind heart-to-heart, mother-daughter, touchy-feely moments made so popular in the holo-dramas. Like so many other things, they were desperate stabs for a kind of world that had all but ceased to exist.
Jessica chuckled bitterly at the mere thought. She could remember a time when that world still existed…barely. It wasn't as if she had much practice in the way of mothering; her own parents had been distant, aloof workaholics who had only produced children as a kind of civic duty. They'd only ever been interested in her as a vessel to carry on the family name and establish a thousand-year dynasty on the torus, then in its construction stages.
It may not have been exactly the way they planned, but I achieved a sort of immortality, didn't I?
She took another sip of the espresso, which had cooled just enough not to scald her tongue. When she looked up, a tiny contrail caught her eye; it was a gunship flying out of the Hub and down to some unknown location on Earth. Even from where she stood, Jessica recognized its distinctively sleek silhouette. A Rook, one of the newest models. All week, there had been more CCB in-and-out activity than usual as Elysium prepared for its annual gala. Patel, and most of the council, had been none too pleased to learn of her allocation of a hundred or so agents to provide beefed-up security for the event. Even this morning, in her daily briefing, he'd berated her about it again.
"I am currently occupied with," he paused for a moment, peeved, as if to count off on his fingers, "a new terrorist cell in Kazakhstan, the ongoing Pan-Asian trade union negotiations, and all the usual fires to be put out, and you are assigning agents to serve canapés and champagne at a party, Secretary?"
Glibly, she'd reassured him. "In terms of uproar, those are nothing compared to what the citizens of this habitat would do if you, Mr. President, decided to cancel this festivity after fifty years of tradition. You'd have a revolt on your hands. Besides, you know all your best and most loyal donors will be in attendance…and I do believe your re-election is next year?"
He hadn't been thrilled, but he'd agreed in the end. The gala would go on as scheduled…even if agents were being pulled from the battlefronts in order to provide the security.
A hundred CCB agents…just to prevent one of their own comrades from attending.
That was her dark, nasty little secret: the kind of thing she would never disclose to Patel, the council, or even her own family. It was the sort of terrible burden that weighed upon her shoulders even more than any rumor of war or hacker cell ever could. Since that terrible night five years ago, Jessica had spent every waking moment terrified that one day Lorelei's path would once again cross with that of C.M. Kruger. Though she had gone to nearly superhuman lengths to ensure it wouldn't happen, that particular genie was out of the bottle, and it might prove impossible to put back. Even if Lorelei had undergone a memory wipe and five years in the tutelage of the finest Gen 1 agents available, Jessica still couldn't help but think that Kruger waited around every corner on the torus, just waiting to once again claim his golden prize.
Another sip. Even the brew reminded her of the bearded man…dark, bitter, exotic, and irresistible all at once. She wondered where Kruger was right now. Perhaps flaying someone alive, or else screwing a girl senseless. That seemed like a safe bet. She'd known him for well over a hundred years now, and he had never changed despite the chaos around him. It must have been family tradition to harbor such a peculiar love-hate feeling, for she often found her thoughts on him, even if he were a murderous, raping thug.
But I'm a murderous, raping thug with charisma, right, girl? Jessica could almost hear his raspy, coarsely accented voice speaking in her ear, and the shock nearly caused her to drop the half-empty cup in her hand. Even from thousands of kilometers away, the mere thought of Kruger could still elicit an icy shudder down her spine. He had that effect on people.
"Madame Secretary?" The voice was the very opposite of Kruger's…cool, soft, neutral, feminine…and it still caused her to jump. Olga, of course. Jessica mentally reminded herself to schedule a therapy session the next time she had a free hour. Trying to keep the shakiness from her own voice, she spoke into the comlink.
"Yes, Olga, what is it?"
"Dr. Roi-Schultz's shuttle just arrived; she wants to see you if you're available. Shall I show her in?"
Jessica laughed dryly. It had to be either an extraordinary coincidence that, the moment she'd been contemplating therapy to rid herself of the specter of Kruger, the finest psychoanalyst on the torus should arrive. The universe has its little sense of irony. "Of course. And prepare some of that green tea she likes," she ordered, knowing the droid would know exactly which one.
The doctor's visit would be something to do with Lorelei, of course. Though Perrine was an old friend, all their conversations of late had become strained, as if they were two grandmasters trying to outwit one another at chess instead of a pair of women who had known each other since before the torus had been built. Instead of amity, there was "oppositional-defiant" and "histrionic" and "early antisocial symptoms." All because Lorelei had the misfortune to run into Kruger and ruin her own life, along with everyone else's.
Agent Kruger, you truly poison everything you touch, don't you? she asked silently.
Just doing my job, sweetheart, his equally silent voice responded.
"Jessica? Are you quite all right?"
When she turned around, Dr. Perrine Roi-Schultz was staring at her in that curious way of hers, like a little sparrow appraising a choice morsel of bread. With her short, dark hair, conservatively cut but stylish suit, and petite frame, the psychiatrist had always resembled a songbird. In the same way of Agent Smith, she was also frustratingly hard to read…a quality most of the surviving Gen 1 agents all shared.
"Fine," Jessica said less convincingly than she would have liked. "I take it you're here to give me an update on Lorelei?"
Perrine took a seat on the plush leather divan, still unreadable and distant. She inhaled sharply, then spoke the very last words Jessica would have expected to hear. "I can't keep seeing her, Jessica. What Lorelei really needs is a friend, not an analyst. Today, during our session, she barely even spoke to me. It is like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands, and," she paused, displaying the tiniest crack in her careful composure, "I feel my involvement with her was a mistake from the start."
"I'll double what I'm paying you now," Jessica promised immediately, concern for Lorelei outweighing any concern of where she'd manage to find that amount of credits. "She's just going through a difficult time right now, Perrine. If you'll only be patient with her…"
The other woman shook her head stubbornly. "There is a reason I never studied child psychiatry in great depth. It is a difficult field to master, perhaps even more difficult than my own. Children are strange, mysterious creatures, Jessica, and I don't pretend to understand them. And your Lorelei is, as you know, very different than most children. Why do you think I never became a mother? Some of us are simply not wired that way. It is not meant to be for us."
If Perrine had landed a punch to Jessica's midsection, it might have produced the same effect. This couldn't be happening. Perrine, along with Garrett Smith, had been one of the only anchors holding Lorelei down for five years, preventing her from drifting off into the ether. And her barely disguised subtext about some people not being meant for motherhood…
"You have to," Jessica begged. "Please, Perrine. She needs these sessions; you know what happened to her with Kruger. And it will only get worse as she gets older."
"Then I can gladly recommend another analyst," Perrine said coolly. "Agent Jimenez is excellent with children; she was the top of her class at Johns Hopkins. I sat on the panel that judged her thesis. Or perhaps Agent Frankweiller; he is young, but certainly capable."
Why didn't she tell me before? Why now, at the worst possible time? "Then what can I possibly do to convince you?"
Perrine regarded her. Though they were physically polar opposites, in her own way the analyst reminded Jessica eerily of Kruger: those dark eyes that seemed to see right through a person, the tight, stubborn set of her jaw, the aura of confidence. She was also a Gen 1 agent, one of a handful still both alive and active in the field. They survived for a reason. That reason was usually self-preservation. After what seemed like forever, she spoke again. "You can agree to terminate the Project once and for all. I've said it before, Jessica, and I'll say it again: there are limits as to what we are meant to do. Are we meant to live forever, you and I? Is anyone? Look at me," she said, "and answer me honestly, for old times' sake."
If the shock of Perrine's threat to quit had been a small pebble thrown into a pond, this question was an enormous boulder. If Jessica hadn't possessed years of experience in hiding her emotions, she might have gasped in surprise. As it was, she merely smirked. "You know that's impossible. Literally billions off the record have gone into it, not to mention a goodly investment from Armadyne's side of things. This entire habitat would collapse. Our future would be gone, Perrine," she said, voice breaking at this last. "She is our future. She may not be perfect, but," Jessica searched for the right turn of phrase, "what in this world really is? Our world is the closest mankind has ever gotten to perfection…and still we find flaws in our midst. Look at my sister, for God's sake. Billions of credits spent, and she is still an addict after all these years. Lorelei is different. I'm begging you to reconsider."
Something…perhaps the maternal side of Jessica's plea…must have at last moved Perrine's icy resolve. The dark-haired woman sighed deeply. "I'll continue our work, but Lorelei must follow my instructions. No more of this flightiness. And we, along with Agent Smith, will need to discuss the future of the Project at our next meeting," she said.
"Fine." Jessica was used to short-term placation and the art of delay; they were skills she had to use every day. "I'll talk to Lorelei, make sure she understands your conditions. After the Fete, of course."
Perrine, being a woman of naturally few words, nodded curtly and left the office, no doubt to interview some high-ranking Earth criminal, or perhaps a wayward CCB agent. There was always a need for someone to combat the many malignancies of the human mind.
There was Kruger's leering, bearded face in her mind's eye again. He always made appearances at the worst possible times, Jessica realized. But without me, the phantom, gravelly voice purred to her, you're as good as fucking lost, eh?
Jessica realized she still had to figure out a way to keep Kruger away from what was sure to be as tempting a draw as rotten meat to flies. One more ball among the dozens she had to juggle every day. That couldn't be so hard.
She spoke into the intercom again. "Olga, get me Agent Novakovic on the conference call," she ordered, referring to the deputy commandant of the agent corps on the torus. "He should be back from Nairobi by now…"
~~s~~
"She should be back by now."
Sprawled on top of her bed, Lorelei realized she was speaking out loud, even if there was no one else in the room. She'd spent the last hour or so in a haze of distraction, texting her friends back and forth, worrying about what Aunt Jessica would say when she got home today, and most of all, trying to keep her contraband comm pad hidden from Mr. Smith. That was the real reason her nerves felt like drops of grease on a hot skillet.
I'll be there, J.F. Drake had assured her in their last exchange. You'll know me for sure.
The party was tomorrow night. Lorelei didn't know whether she felt more terrified or excited, or maybe equal parts of each. After all this time, she'd finally be meeting her mysterious pen pal. Nobody knew. Not her aunt, or Mr. Smith, even her best friends. It had been so much on her mind that even Dr. Perrine had mentioned it today.
You're acting very distracted today, Lorelei. Perhaps you'd like to talk about it?
She didn't, of course. She almost never wanted to talk to her counselor anymore. If she ever had to begin with. Dr. Perrine didn't understand her like Mr. Smith did. When she was in that room, Lorelei felt like some poor little animal in a lab, a creature to be studied and analyzed, not loved. They had never bonded in a meaningful way, and she positively dreaded the daily visits to that sterile office. Aunt Jessica wasn't much better, of course. Lorelei still hadn't talked to her since last night, when they'd fought. She'd gotten the texts, of course, and probably Mr. Smith had too, but chose to ignore all of them. That served her aunt right for being so, so…
Mean? No, Lorelei realized. It was much more than that. She just didn't understand. She wasn't the one with a huge chunk of her memories simply not there.
A soft tap at her door. It was Mr. Smith, of course, but at least he respected her privacy. "Just making sure you're still doing your homework, Miss Delacourt," came his baritone voice.
"Of course. Just finishing my essay," Lorelei chirped a bit too enthusiastically. It was a bald-faced lie, and she hated lying to him. She hadn't even gotten started on her analysis of Great Expectations, and frankly didn't care what happened to Pip and Estella and all their chums. They weren't even real. What was happening tomorrow night was so much more exciting than any book could ever be. Lorelei was already composing a list of all the things she wanted to ask Drake, when she finally met him face to face. What did he do for a living? Did he have a family? And then there was the big one, the queen mother of all the questions.
Do you know what happened to me, and why I can't remember?
Just the thought of it was exciting. Lorelei hadn't been excited, really excited, for a long time. There had been moments: the times she'd hacked past the many layers of Elysium's cybersecurity, the first day she'd won in the sims, her outings with her friends. Most of the time, though, she felt scrutinized and controlled, like one of the specimens on a slide in the lab at school. If it wasn't her aunt trying to do the string-pulling, then it was Dr. Perrine. Even Mr. Smith did his fair share of that. Despite the bond she'd developed with him, Lorelei was no fool. He was her bodyguard first and foremost.
The crazy thing was, she had no one to share her secret with. Who did you tell when you were about to step completely, and irrevocably, out of bounds? Weren't best friends supposed to be there for that? Lorelei had considered telling Anila and Esme, of course, but almost immediately dismissed the idea. Anila couldn't keep even minor secrets, and rule-bound Esme was sure to snitch to the adults. Who did that leave?
"Mr. Smith?" she called out to him, knowing he was listening. He had the kind of ultra-sensitive hearing Lorelei had previously reserved for certain kinds of bats. A plan was turning itself over in her head, and though Lorelei didn't quite know how it would come together just yet, it had the markings of something special. "Do you mind if I go outside for a little while? Just to have some fresh air?"
"Of course, Miss Delacourt."
That was another thing Lorelei liked about Mr. Smith: he almost never turned down a reasonable request, unlike Dr. Perrine or Aunt Jessica. As she passed him coming out her bedroom door, though, he looked down at her with the strangest expression, as if he was amused by some private joke. "Did…I do something wrong?" Lorelei asked nervously. Even to an untrained observer, it would be obvious she was keyed up about something, and her mentor had well over a hundred years of experience.
Garrett Smith blinked solemnly. "Is there something you want to tell me, Miss Delacourt?"
You have no idea how much I want to tell you. Instead, Lorelei put on her best fake smile, the kind her mother often used. "Oh. No, I'm fine," she said far too enthusiastically. If his biometric implants did what she thought they might, no doubt he was picking up on her insincerity. Anila had once claimed the agents could detect when someone was lying, and Lorelei had believed it ever since. "Just need to get away from Dickens, you know?"
Blink, blink. As unreadable as an ancient Buddhist scroll to her. "I'll come with you. I've always liked your aunt's garden," he said.
Since Lorelei couldn't say no, and had already used the sudden bathroom break excuse earlier that day, there would have to be another plan. As Mr. Smith himself had once told her, the best strategists always came up with more than one idea. She'd just have to figure out another way to get rid of him for a minute or two.
~~s~~
"Lovely flowers, these," Mr. Smith murmured as they passed yet another bed of exquisitely tended blooms. "I thought these were extinct. They must have revived them through the labs, like so many others."
Lorelei was barely listening. All she could think about was the little comm pad tucked into the inside of her school blazer, and how much her fingers were itching to grab for it. Secrets were no fun unless they could be shared. "Maybe," she said, stopping to admire the little white blossoms. They were pretty, in an understated kind of way. "Do you know what they're called, by any chance?"
"Of course. Hernandia drakeana. Used to be all over Polynesia."
Either the name was the strangest coincidence ever, or Mr. Smith knew. It was all Lorelei could do to stop from reacting. Had he been spying on her all along, reading her texts to and from J.F. Drake? If he did, he either didn't care or was waiting for the right moment. Had he been passing it along to her aunt, too? That's impossible, Lorelei told herself. If Aunt Jessica knew about that, she'd lock my room and throw away the key. There's no way. But then again, her aunt seemed to operate on a different level of secrecy than most people. Another of Mr. Smith's favorite maxims was that a great warrior always used patience, waited for the right time.
Not knowing the truth was almost as painful as having to keep a secret all to yourself.
"Oh. That's interesting," Lorelei said, desperate to change the subject. "So, Mr. Smith, are you coming to the Fete tomorrow night? What are you dressing as?"
He smiled at that. "Of course. Where you go, I go; you know that, Miss Delacourt." No surprise there. "As for a costume, well, let's just have it be a mystery until then."
She was about to ask him if he knew any other agents, especially ones called Drake, but decided against it. It wasn't a good idea to be too obvious with this plan, and Mr. Smith was the sort of man who could always see ten moves ahead. "I don't know, either. My mother usually picks something out, and knowing her, it'll be pink," she complained. "But I think I'll surprise everyone this year, you know? Maybe go as an agent, like you!"
This time, Agent Smith really did laugh, a rarity for him. "That, I'd pay good credits to see. But you know your aunt will never allow it, much less your mother. You have some interesting ideas sometimes. Maybe you'd better spend less time at the training center with me and more time on your other studies. Otherwise I'm apt to get in trouble with your aunt, and she's not a woman I like to see angry."
A thousand ideas were now spinning off in different directions in Lorelei's mind, each with a tantalizing end destination. She would need a little ingenuity, some degree of luck, and perfect timing, not to mention her friends' help, to pull it off.
Most importantly, she'd need her mother's special mascara, and lots of it.
To Be Continued
