Earlier version beta'd by KrisEleven. Many thanks!
Translations: Are below.
Ben tian-sheng de yil-dui-rou—Stupid inbred stack of meat
Go-se—Crap
Ni ta ma de. Tianxia suoyoude ren. Dou gaisi—Everyone under the heavens ought to go die
Jian huo—Cheap floozy
Kuang-zhe de—Nuts (as in crazy)
Dong ma?—Understand?
Meimei—Little sister
Chapter Four—Honest Answers
The planet Osiris, July in the year 2516
Simon, as a doctor, was well aware that the body's self-defense mechanisms would prevent him from deliberately knocking himself out with a blow to the head. However, he felt only that would be a proper punishment.
Waiting outside a compound in a blackout zone, no doubt surrounded by smugglers, thieves, and murderers, you just had to bring three hundred credits with you? And leave them in your outer pocket? With your ident card? Oh, and wear clothing that costs more than most of these people probably make in a year? Why not just paint 'rob me' on your back?
Or maybe the thief had picked something up from what he'd said to the guards at the gate.
"Oh. You're guards. And you're doing a great job. Keeping me out. Not that I'm—not that as guards, you need to keep me out. I'm harmless. But still. You're guards. You have a very guard-like air to you."
Simon groaned at the memory. It was ridiculous, considering that River's life was possibly at stake, for him to have, of all things, stage fright. He'd planned out carefully what to say to his contact, a woman by the name of Nastasia Ortega, but he hadn't counted on the guards at the gate. He was surprised one of them hadn't knocked him on the head and left him in some alley.
The guard on the right beckoned to him. "Hey, you. Harmless one. She'll see you now."
Simon rose and followed the guard through the inner door and blinked. The entire room was filled with paper and cloth screens—some the cheap variety to be obtained at any open-air market, and others he distinctly recognized as being imported from Sihnon and Ariel. The owner of the room was nowhere to be seen.
"Scrim," the guard explained, jabbing a thumb at the largest screen, which blocked off a substantial section of the room. "Boss can see you, but you can't see her. Bad for business."
"Right." Simon turned awkwardly to the screen. "Mistress Ortega. I am here to make an offer—"
"Congratulations, Alexei," a cultured voice drawled from behind the elaborately woven cloth. "You were right. You, doctor, you have coin with you?"
"Yes. I mean, no! That is—hey, get off!" The guard had pinned his arms.
"Alright, Alexei, take the money off him and shoot him."
"Can't I shoot him first?"
Simon jerked his head back, smashing into the guard's nose. He made no sound, but his grip loosened and Simon jerked away, ducking behind one of the heavier screens.
This is going to buy me about five seconds. When they move the screen...River, I'm sorry...
There was a hollow wooden thud, and another set of footsteps ran into the room. "Mistress, we've located Elmer Brandon, who cheated you out of that shipment from Harvest last month. He's tied up in the anteroom."
"That ben tian-sheng de yil-dui-rou!" Ortega spat. "He's not slipping away from me again, the little toad. Alexei, come with me. Rachel, go and—"
"What about the—"
Upon reflection, it might have been a good idea for Simon to open the window before jumping out of it. As it was, the several shots that followed him did not find their mark, but being stuck full of shattered bits of glass hardly improved the situation.
Several hours later, in Ahuva's house, the other doctor extracted the last shard of glass and glared at Simon. "I suppose it's too much to hope that almost getting killed taught you a lesson?"
Simon shook his head. "If it gets me to River…just because that went wrong doesn't mean they all will."
"All?" Ahuva propped her hands on her hips. "You have more of these—contacts—lined up?"
"Three more at the moment."
"Tell me you're at least bringing some kind of weapon to the meetings."
"They all search me before they let me in to see whoever's in charge," Simon informed her. "I couldn't carry anything even if I knew how to use it, which, as you know full well, I don't."
Ahuva unlocked and opened a nearby drawer, holding up a tube of lipstick. "I'll bet a hundred in platinum you know how to use this."
As it happened, Simon did. Anyone who'd worked the night shift at the ER knew about the Goodnight Kiss.
The planet Osiris, September in the year 2516
Guns, Simon had decided, were a problem. He was vaguely familiar with sonic rifles, as all Feds carried them, but those were not lethal, whereas he would bet every credit he was carrying (in his inside pocket this time, thank you) that the weapons that abounded in this bar were all kinds of deadly. And though Simon didn't know much about guns themselves, he knew a great deal about gunshot wounds and exactly how fast he would bleed to death if he were shot in any of several places, which was not exactly conducive to relaxation.
A man leaned on the counter beside Simon. "Anyone want to show me whether the service in this bar is worth a damn?" His eyes on the bartender, he slid a card across the splinter-rife counter to Simon, who covered it with his hand. When the man had accepted his drink and moved away, Simon picked up the card, doing his best to be casual. On it were written directions to one of the private rooms. Much as the idea of conducting business without any kind of protection went against all Simon's common sense, he knew he didn't have much choice, not if he wanted to get River back. His months of searching had convinced him there was no safe way—much less any legal way—to do that.
Five minutes later, Simon was ensconced in a shadowy room with three men at least twice his size. One of them winked at him. "Going to compete in the Miss Osiris pageant later?"
"Shut up, Tai," the smallest of the men ordered. "Or do you want another of the go-se jobs we've been picking up in the last few weeks?" Tai subsided sullenly and the smaller man turned back to Simon. "Doctor. I'm Jason Andrews. I understand you're looking for information about your sister."
"Yes. Yes, I am." Simon gripped the sides of his chair.
"So you'll be telling me under what circumstances she disappeared."
"She...my family..." Simon mentally ordered himself to get to the point. "She was offered a chance to go to an Alliance Academy. We...didn't know much about it, but she wanted to go. So we sent her there..." He cleared his throat. "And I've been getting coded letters, letters that ask for help, and I—"
"Hold it right there. You've never laid eyes on this Academy?"
"No. We—"
"Never heard of it before then?"
"No..."
"How long ago was this?"
"A little more than a year ago." Simon reached into his pocket. "I brought the letters, and all the information I could find on the Academy. I can show you—"
Andrews held up a hand. "No."
"No, what?"
"I don't want your information. What I want is for you to walk out of here right now and pretend you never heard of us. And if you know what's good for you, you'll forget you ever had a sister."
Simon stared. "But why?"
Andrews leaned forward. "I'll tell you why. I was on the right side of the law when it came to investigating, once. Then, one day, some couple comes to me because their son has gone and disappeared into an Alliance Academy just like the one you're describing."
"Then you know—" Simon began excitedly.
"What I know is that I made some simple inquiries and got dragged in for questioning by the Feds. I was stupid enough to not take their warnings seriously. So I dig a little deeper, and suddenly there's a warrant on the Cortex for my arrest and all my funds are frozen."
"But you don't even know how much I'm willing to pay—"
Andrews stood and waved at his men. "Come on, boys. We've got a go-se job to take."
The planet Osiris, November in the year 2516
"Son of a..." Simon's most recent contact dropped to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
It was one of those days when Simon wondered if his so-called proper upbringing had been infused with any sense of reality whatsoever. Having come to the conclusion that he was going to be spending a certain amount of time in disreputable company, he'd purchased an outfit that would have made him an exile had he worn it to any society dinner function—and the man to whom he'd talked on the wave had still labeled him a target for seduction and probably robbery. Simon shuddered at the idea of what would have happened if he hadn't taken Ahuva's advice and used the Goodnight Kiss—and if one of the guards hadn't been the mother of a former patient.
The door creaked open and the copper-haired woman poked her head inside. "Everything going well in here? The doorman went to get a drink. I thought I'd check in on you two. Make sure he wasn't grabbing what he shouldn't."
"It's fine, Deborah." Simon dropped to his knees beside his unconscious contact and pulled out the viewer in his pocket. "Thank you again for warning me this might be a scam."
Deborah leaned against the table. "Hey. Reattaching my daughter's leg is worth more than a warning or two. The hamster she named after you is thriving, by the way. So, did he offer to bed you in exchange for some supposed info, like he did with the last five who came in here?"
Simon examined the viewer. "Yes. He said he had detailed information, but this has a wiped drive."
"To be expected. You'd better go."
"I hope this won't cost you your job." Simon walked to the door.
"I'll pretend you hit me on the head when I opened the door, or some such."
Dr. Mahdavi was waiting outside. Since his previous disaster—a nasty scene involving a triggered stun grenade—he'd asked her to accompany him whenever his meetings with contacts were in blackout zones. Simon could only pray the Alliance had lost interest in monitoring his movements, because if they were to look at the surveillance now, he'd be lucky to get off without being arrested.
"No luck?" Mahdavi joined him as they hurried down the crowded street.
"None."
"I had some." Mahdavi pulled an envelope out of her pocket. "Geming got in touch with me."
Simon frowned. "Who's Geming?"
"He's from TALENT, the organization that broke me out." Mahdavi handed him the envelope. "Their wave code's in here. I think he and his partner will be able to help you, if you can pay, and if you're willing to wait. They have to keep moving to evade the Alliance, so there's no real way of knowing when they'll be able to meet with you."
"Do you trust them?"
"As much as I do anyone. You'd better get home."
Simon watched Mahdavi turn down a side street, then looked at the envelope in his hand. It's been over eighteen months since I got River's last letter, and I'm no farther along now than I was then. It's only luck that I haven't been arrested by now; I have no idea what I'm doing. If even petty criminals scare me so much I can't see straight, what hope do I have against anything worse?
The planet Osiris, February in the year 2517
In a few months, Simon realized, it would be two years since he'd received River's first coded letter. He could barely remember a time before most of life had become a process of going through the motions, all his resources completely focused on the slippery task of rescuing his sister. In the daytime, he took his patients one at a time, unable to see beyond his next meeting with a contact. In the nighttime, he dreamed of his sister, dreams that changed in an instant from River dancing to River screaming.
"Watch where you're going!"
"Well, that'll wrap it up. Looks like maybe we can do business."
"...see if you get a better deal from anyone else..."
Simon knew his family and friends were worried about his mental health. To be frank, they had reason to be, but Simon was willing to hang on to sanity by a thread if it meant he could help the sister he loved. But terror for River was only part of the problem. Simon, like all those around him, had built his entire life around the assumption that the government was basically good, or at least could be relied upon to preserve his safety and the safety of his family. But that belief had begun to erode months ago, and the doubts had gotten even worse when he met contact after contact who took it for granted that the Alliance would imprison or kill them if given the smallest excuse. They might be criminals, but Simon had come to see them as people trying to survive in a world far harsher than his.
"You jian huo! Stay away from my man!"
"Pass that bottle down, will you?"
"Dr. Tam?"
Simon looked up to see a heavyset, black-haired man, his face rife with raw pink scars, standing beside his stool. He wore no obvious weapons, but Simon knew that didn't mean he had none. "Yes. That's me." He'd not seen this man before, but he fit the description given him by Dr. Mahdavi in their most recent wave.
"Got a private room to talk in," the scarred man said in a harsh drawl. "Friend's in there now, checkin' for any eavesdroppin' devices as would be a problem."
Simon stood. "I appreciate your coming to meet me. Thank you."
"Time for thanks if ya get what ya want," the scarred man advised, turning towards the door. "Follow me."
They made their way through the crowd, ducking around prostitutes and those serving drinks, passing a corner full of gamblers on their way to the door. The scarred man slapped away a thief trying to get a hand in his pocket, and ducked into the hall. Simon followed quickly.
The dark corridor led to a series of entry ways, some separated from the hall by nothing but old curtains. Simon was grateful when the scarred man led him to a solid wooden door and pushed it open.
In one corner of the room stood another man, thinner and taller than the first. He appeared younger than the scarred man, perhaps in his late thirties, despite his prematurely grey hair. "We're all clear," he announced, his accent crisp and formal. "This is the doctor, I suppose."
"So he says," grunted the scarred man. "'Least, his story checks out."
"Good." The taller man waved at the wobbling table and chairs that graced the room. "Let us sit. And do tell Dr. Tam your pseudonym, so he can stop thinking of you as 'the scarred man.'"
Simon blinked while the scarred man glared at his companion. "Go cheat on your wife, Sumner."
"My wife can beat up your honor student," Sumner told him. He turned to Simon. "As you heard, I am called Sumner."
"My colleague's too educated for his own good," the scarred man grumbled. "I'm Geming."
Simon nodded. "I'm pleased to meet you. Dr. Mahdavi has said good things about you."
"Ain't hardly described us accurately then. All criminals here."
"That's right," Sumner agreed serenely. "You're a traitor, I'm a traitor, that's the way it is. But you want to know about your sister."
"Yes. River." Simon dug his nails into the heels of his hands.
"Got no good news for you on that account," Geming informed him. "Alliance has their claws into her now. Hardly likely to ever let her go."
Simon swallowed. "Then she really is in danger at the Academy."
"I'll say. Ain't no kid in that place ever come out the way they went in. Supposed to be geniuses, but they're kuang-zhe dewhen they leave. If they leave at all."
Simon stared. "Kuang-zhe de?But why?"
"Because the Alliance considers your sister government property," Sumner said. "They want to mold her body and mind to suit their needs."
Simon's stomach roiled. "Mold...how?"
"With propaganda, with mind-altering chemicals. Possibly even with surgery; we cannot be sure. To state it bluntly, they are playing with her brain."
Chest and throat burning, Simon stared at Sumner. "But River isn't—she's not a toy! She's—" Gifted? A prodigy? Precious and rare? So his parents had said, and taught their children that intelligence and status conferred privilege. Is this what life is truly like? Simon wondered bitterly. Must people trade their daughters for the privilege of keeping a record free of black marks?
"To them she's a toy," Geming said harshly. "Actually, to them she's a tool. Don't know for what purpose, though."
Simon found his voice. "What do I have to do?"
"What do you mean?" Sumner asked warily.
"To get her out. There must be a way. No facility is impenetrable."
"Ya got no idea what you're askin'," Geming broke in. "No idea. The risk involved—"
"I have money. I'll pay whatever it takes. My parents will help."
"Will they?" Sumner raised an eyebrow. "Hardly anyone would willingly get involved with such a scheme."
"Once I explain, they'll understand." Simon twisted his hands in the fabric of his pants, hoping beyond hope that what he said was true.
"And once she's out, just where're ya goin' to take her?" Geming inquired. "Trust me, there's no place you can run where they ain't gonna come lookin' for ya. You'd have to hit the border planets, and odds are someone like yourself wouldn't last a day even there."
"I'll take that chance."
Sumner looked at him seriously. "You could lose everything, Dr. Tam. You've never been off the Core, I'm guessing?" Simon shook his head. "You would have to live like an outlaw. Have you ever visited an Alliance prison? A real one, not the pleasant front they show trustees and tourists." Sumner didn't wait for an answer. "That's if you survive, dong ma? If some bounty hunter doesn't put a bullet through your brain to get to your sister. It only takes one time, one mistake."
"But it could be done."
Geming and Sumner traded looks. "Ain't rightly sure," the former finally replied. "We've not got the fundin', and ya gotta have an insider for this kinda thing, and we—"
"May have one, actually," Sumner said thoughtfully.
"What? Not Swallowtail? I thought we couldn't be sure of her."
"Well, it is a risk, but without her, we can do nothing."
Geming shook his head. "Ain't worth it."
Simon cleared his throat. "It is to me. Is there anything I could do to persuade you to put me in touch with this Swallowtail?"
"You and Swallowtail could not do it alone, Dr. Tam," Sumner said, not unkindly.
Geming observed Simon shrewdly. "Bet that wouldn't stop ya, though, would it? Try and do it on your lonesome if we don't help ya."
Simon raised his chin. "Yes, I would."
"You know," Sumner mused, "if we did manage this, we would have the evidence to prevent others from entering the Academy, to some extent at least. And it would build confidence in our ranks. That's been sorely lacking lately."
"Your ranks?" Simon inquired.
"None of your business," Geming growled repressively. "Unless we agree, which we ain't likely to."
Sumner frowned at Simon. "She may not even be your sister, truly. Who can guess what kind of damage they've done to her mind? She might not know you anymore. She might be in a completely vegetative state. Why do you risk so much?"
Gifted. A prodigy. Rare and precious. His parent's words, not his. "Because she's my meimei."
The two men were silent for a moment. Then Geming heaved himself to his feet. "Well, we'll talk about it. Get back to ya with our decision."
"Thank you."
"There is not much to thank us for, yet," Sumner replied.
"You told me the truth." Simon paused by the door. "It's more than anyone else has done." He left the room.
He had just entered the main area when he saw a man being knocked to the floor by a sonic rifle. People were pouring for the exits, pushing and shoving and screaming. Someone rammed into Simon and he tripped over a bar stool, crashing to the ground. By the time he scrambled to his feet, he and those nearest to him were surrounded by Feds. The one nearest to him spoke as he removed handcuffs from his belt.
"You are bound by law for the crime of presence in a blackout zone."
Note
I had fun with the pseudonyms in this chapter. Geming means 'revolution,' and Sumner was the name of an anti-slavery senator during the Civil War.