Chapter 25: I Abducted You So I Tell You What To Do
I regain consciousness in an interrogation room. At least, this is what interrogation rooms look like in procedural vids.
Shadows darkening the edges of my vision fade as I come to. The harsh overheads make me squint. There's a desk in front of the chair I'm strapped to—I figure that out when I try moving my arms and legs—with a human man seated behind it. The human taps on a light key console traced on the desktop. Overlong brown hair in need of a good scrubbing veils his eyes. Stubble carpets his pointed chin. He touches a comm-link at his ear.
"She's awake."
"What's happening?" I test the kinetic bands vibrating at my wrists and ankles. They're quite secure. "Where am I?"
The scuffle with the C-Sec officer comes back to me all at once. How long did the Stinger put me down? My vision isn't rosy anymore and my headache's gone. Twisting in my seat, I evaluate what I can of my arms and legs. Pink lashes on my forearms are slicked with omni-gel. Stinger webs aren't lethal, but they're still painful. I've been out long enough to get treated and transported here.
The man glances at me over the interface and chews his bottom lip. He ducks and continues keying in data. The room's automatic door snicks open. A turian in a C-Sec hardsuit enters carrying a datapad. When the man starts scrambling out of his chair, the turian waves the datapad at him.
"Stay there. I need you to queue up the vid and uplink the information packets I need to my pad."
"Right, right," the man mumbles and awaits the turian's orders.
"Someone can fill me in anytime," I say.
The turian leans on the desk's front edge and scans the information on his datapad's display.
"Ms. Cezetti, I apologize for the restraints. The discharge of pent up biotic energy on Shalta Ward should have depleted your temporary stores, but the precautions are necessary for our protection. I'm detective Chellik and I'll be conducting your interview."
"Wait, wait." If I could move my hand I'd be pinching the bridge of my nose. "I don't have any energy stores to deplete. I'm not a biotic."
"Officer Huminik's internal bruising begs to differ as do these lab results on your blood-work." He holds the datapad before my face so I can read it.
Traces of red sand present…
"That's impossible. I'm not a doser and certainly not a sand blaster."
"And yet your levels come back positive." Detective Chellik pulls the pad away. "Our processing labs don't make rookie mistakes. Is it possible someone laced your food? Drink?"
Impossible, unless someone spiked the stale savory buns Dakan bought me or poisoned the ward cisterns. I didn't have dinner last night because I passed out at Dalessia's after her flavored leaf mixture knocked me out. My mouth hangs open on that thought. Flavored leaf has never affected me like that, but Dalessia wouldn't have—
"Something on your mind?" Chellik's white painted brow plates go up.
"No. Look, I'm sorry about the scene at my complex. Could we get this over with? I have a shoot at nine I'd like to make."
"You should have considered that before you attacked one of my officers. It's noon, Ms. Cezetti. You can stop worrying about your shoot. We have plenty of time."
"Fuck." I bang my head on the back of the chair and blame my tears on the ache at the base of my skull. "Fuck!" My lips press together and I squinch my eyes shut. "Why am I even here?" When the turian chuckles, I add, "Besides the assault and evasion?"
The detective angles himself toward the human. "Technician Caruso, the vid, please."
The human arranges the display setting icons on the desktop interface. The semi-transparent screen becomes opaque and a vid player window pops up on the side of the pane facing me. The vid starts. I'm on it. So is Dakan. He stands beside my bed and plays with my foot, then his head's between my legs, then the me shackled to the chair looks away.
"That's called 'private,'" I tell my lap.
"Detective Tallen didn't think so."
"And who's detective Tallen?" I pick up my head in time to see myself go down on Dakan. On the vid, he cranes his neck and tips back his head in ecstasy. His hips tilt toward my mouth. I gnaw the inside of my cheek and dig my nails into my palms. Acting is my second best talent. I've had a long time to practice pretending none of this bothers me, that it doesn't twist me up inside knowing an intimate moment of mine is a show for these two men.
"The turian you're, ah," Chellik taps a talon to his mandible, "what do humans call that, Caruso?"
The human doesn't make eye contact with either of us when he says, "Fellating."
"Yes, thank you. He's the turian you're fellating."
"No." I shake my head. "That's patrolman Dakan Karakik."
Chellik cough-laughs into his fist. "Did he tell you that before or after he paid you to do," he cocks his head at the screen, "that?"
Clenching my teeth, I glare at the turian detective. "He didn't pay me for anything."
"Not in credits perhaps, but," Chellik signals technician Caruso who uploads information to the turian's datapad. "We have amplifly records here of the detective skirting arrest procedure on your behalf."
"I didn't trade sexual favors for special treatment."
The turian saunters over to my chair and leans over me. "I've got a lot of evidence here to the contrary. I could book you right now for possession of a controlled substance and unlicensed solicitation on top of assault and evasion."
Behind him, Dakan and I have moved on to the main act. Watching an alien work me over is strange. That's not how I felt when we were together.
"I'm not a whore," I say.
Chellik studies me a moment, then says, "No, I don't think you are. That doesn't change your unfortunate predicament." He requests the rest of the data packets from technician Caruso and dismisses the human. When the door seals behind the technician, the turian continues.
"To be honest, Ms. Cezetti, I believe you're ignorant of your situation. Detective Tallen," he gestures at the turian collapsed next to me on my bed, "is my lead investigator on the NOVA project. Do you know anything about NOVA?"
I've seen a few segments on ANN's feed and the universal broadcasts.
"Aren't they terrorists or something?"
"A highly organized smuggling ring. They also take on assassination contracts for pay or to further their own agendas."
"What do a bunch of thieves and murders have to do with me?"
"I believe you're one of their chameleon operatives."
This time, I laugh. "You've got the wrong woman."
"Dalessia Kella doesn't seem to think so."
I snort. "You think my agent is in with NOVA?"
"No. I know your agent is NOVA. She is to the organization what Aria is to Omega. Dangerous, deadly, and connected to a lot of people who can do her dirty work. And, unlike Aria, Dalessia panders to the universal socio-political scene. She hides in plain sight."
C-Sec doesn't make bluffs like that to some nobody dancer with one upscale media job successfully blown. The thought makes me wince. All those credits from my modeling fee are gone. The chair I'm in squeaks when I fidget.
What am I going to do? What the fuck am I going to do? I have to get out of here. There's still time to pawn everything of value I own.
Whatever this detective wants I'll give it to him as long as he lets me go. He's watching the vid. Dakan and I start at the beginning of our liaison.
"Your connection to Kella made you a valuable asset to detective Tallen," he says.
Is Chellik telling the truth about Dakan? Why would Dakan lie about his rank at C-Sec and his name? I nod at the vid I wish he'd shut off.
"You keep your own people under surveillance?"
Chellik's mandibles hug his jaws. "I would if I suspected them of wrongdoing. Detective Tallen's record was clean. I had no reason."
"Then how did you get this vid?"
"From detective Tallen's case files, of course."
The pieces click into place.
I met Dakan when he white-knighted for me after Razorback and his crew followed me from Shadow Matter. The same night of my impromptu audition for Dalessia Kella. If Dakan's investigating the asari, he'd have her under surveillance. He must have seen me with her that night. My connection to her would give him an excellent stream of insider information.
I hang my head. My heart is a heavy lump of iron, sore in my chest. Dakan's interest in my follow up audition and booking had nothing to do with me or my career. He wanted information. So, what was the sex? An afterthought?
A perk, I tell myself. Dakan's rank probably comes with lots of them. I don't get weepy about it, but I hate the way my breath hitches when I inhale. The way I feel hot all over and the way I shake.
Chellik observes me all the while I put one, two, and three together. His arms are folded over his chest and his mandibles twitch. When I don't offer anything, he picks up the interrogation.
"The way I see it, Ms. Cezetti, you're the victim here." The turian detective reads off his datapad. "And it seems to me you've been a victim of circumstance a long time."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I grit out.
I may be tied to a chair in a C-Sec interrogation room, but I'm no victim. The daggers I stare at Chellik should get my point across.
"You and your family have been cleaning up after Lena Hopenhower-Cezetti for most of her life and all of yours."
"Family takes care of family."
"As a turian, I respect that. We're believers in never leaving anyone behind. We're also believers in everyone pulling their own weight. You've been pulling far more than your own."
Groaning, I let my head drape over the back of my chair as Chellik scrolls through the info on his datapad. I'm quite familiar with my personal history. I don't need it narrated to me, but Chellik loves the sound of his dual vocals. What a diva.
"Your grandmother raised you. During your time with her she bailed her daughter out of jail and kept her in rehab when she could. Lena took custody of you after your grandmother died. You moved to New York where she worked as a high priced pro."
"That job kept me in private school," I say to the ceiling.
"Yes, I see you led a privileged life for almost a decade. Your mother met and eventually married media mogul Allen Cezetti. He adopted you and moved you both into his luxury condominiums."
Those were the best years of my life. Allen was a fantastic dad. Mom kept her drug use to a recreational level even after leaving Bisbekbi Talent Services. Dance, ballet especially, has always been my passion. In Manhattan, Allen's connections and money paired with my skill got me into the School of American Ballet. I had my sights set on the New York City Ballet corps and eventual stardom as a principle dancer. I had everything I ever wanted
"But that privileged life wasn't without problems, was it?" Chellik asks.
I sneer at him. "Of course not. Nothing is."
"Allen Cezetti's parents, his father in particular, drove a wedge between you all, didn't they?"
They certainly tried. Allen's dad, Joe, never liked me or my mom. He knew my mom was a whore and didn't think trash like us deserved the Cezetti name.
"There's nothing wrong with picking up some tramp from the gutter," I heard Joe say once when I crept passed Allen's study. "As long as you throw them back."
Nothing Joe said changed how Allen felt about my mom. They loved each other and they loved Manhattan's night life and they loved me. I made them proud with my dancing. Allen never shut up about it.
"You should see her up on her toes and jumping so high. Incredible!" The brandy sloshed out of his tumbler when he gesticulated. Mom patted dry the sleeve of his tailored suit.
We should have lived happily ever after.
Chellik notices my wriggling hands and feet. Crouching, he checks the kinetic bands at my wrists and ankles. A number of taps to his omni-tool's interface loosens the cuffs. I can't get an arm or a foot free, but the feeling floods into my extremities. My fingers and toes tingle, then prickle.
"This interview will be over soon, Ms. Cezetti. We'll get you out of that chair." Chellik says as he resumes his position in front of me.
"And into a cell?"
"That depends on your answers to my next few questions."
Of course. I roll my eyes.
"After Allen Cezetti's death, Earth's records on you are spotty. You're not listed in your adoptive father's will. Neither is his wife. What happened to you?"
I tell him.
My senior year at SAB, Allen developed brain cancer. He didn't hang on long after diagnosis. As his mind and health deteriorated, so did my mom's tenuous hold on her addictions. High and holed in her room, mom hid herself from a husband who no longer recognized her and Joe swooped in with his battalion of super lawyers to direct his son's ruined faculties. Mom and I were drafted out of the will. Allen went in the ground. We went into the street. The money we had came from what jewelry, fur coats, and luxury tech I'd ferreted from our condo to the pawn shop when I understood there'd be no New York City Ballet corps and no broken family mourning and healing together.
Chellik strokes one of his mandibles. "That explains it. The last records we have of you on Earth are forms from a waitress job and a dancing job you took shortly after Allen Cezetti's death. Then your transfer application to the Citadel and your relocation records."
At one of the shelters where mom and I stayed that first week after we lost Allen and our borrowed wealth, a counselor tried taking me under her wing.
"You can't keep all this inside you, Neve. You have to talk about it. Get that pain out of you. You'll feel better."
That counselor meant well, but she was wrong. In this interrogation room, the telling of the tale is no easier than the first time I told it.
"I took those jobs after my mom got picked up for blowing some guy in his car. I promised I'd take care of her. I relocated when I had the credits because dancing out here pays more than dancing down there."
Pacing behind his desk, Chellik sits, tosses his datapad aside, and switches off the p-interface separating us. He laces his talons on the desktop.
"If you weren't transferring credits to your mother every month you wouldn't have to live like you do. You could let her fend for herself."
"I'm not that sort of person." The hard metal chair hurts my butt. I shift in my seat. The new position is no more comfortable than my prior position.
"That's to my benefit. I have enough documentation here to book you for unlicensed solicitation regardless of the facts."
"That won't hold up in a hearing."
Fact is, Chellik might have me fucking one of his people on camera, but all he's got is fraternization which isn't illegal. Dakan never gave me any credits, so Chellik can't have a record of a transaction or footage of me offering to suck off Dakan for his favor.
"It doesn't have to, does it?" Chellik asks.
No. Not when I think about it. A publicized unlicensed solicitation charge will raze my reputation. There's a slim chance I can salvage the shoot with Lanaral. If Band Cluster really is a NOVA front that C-Sec shuts down, there are hundreds of agencies that'll take me. My foot's in the door. I can come back from a lot. An unlicensed solicitation charge is not one of those things. No reputable agency will touch me with that sort of baggage. And if that vid of me and Dakan hits the extranet? I shudder.
"I'm screwed is what you're telling me, right?"
"Not yet," Chellik says. "I'd rather book Kella than one of her chameleon operatives. I can't do that without hard evidence which I can't get without someone who has access to her."
"I can't just ask her about NOVA."
"You won't have to. I want you to wear a wire. All we need is a connection. Just one. She may give us that during her interactions with you."
Sucking on my upper lip keeps me from cursing. "Our next conversation might be short considering I may have lost her an important client."
"That's not your concern. Wear the wire and speak with Kella once and no charges will be brought against you. But," Chellik leans forward, "if you remain in her company and continue wearing the wire and the information you bring us leads to Kella's arrest and conviction, C-Sec will cover your mother's relocation and residence fees to the Citadel. We'll make sure she's safe and gets treatment at one of the best facilities on the wards."
The offer dangles before me like a bright lure. I'm a guppy circling a shiny and irresistible hook. Do I want fame and more credits than I know what to do with? Yeah. I also want security, stability. Credits get me that and fame gets me credits. Pursuing fame will be a lot easier if my mom's taken care of. I'd sacrifice Dalessia for that.
"I'll wear your wire," I say.