7
C
opernicus pushed open the door of Winston Dunn’s diner on Upper Kettle Street, several blocks from Headquarters. The diner was, as always, overcrowded with military personnel, uniformed and plain-clothed, off and on duty. A discordant chorus of sounds assailed Copernicus’ senses, gabbling conversations, clink-clanking glasses, the sizzle and spit of grilling meat, and yells from the crowd watching a pedal-ball match on the holo-screen projected above the bar.
He entered, triggering the buzzer above the door. Numerous people turned towards him then quickly away, their eyes shifting nervously, their body-heat flaring. The lower-ranking soldiers on duty saluted him. The crowd parted to make a path for him and a murmur followed his back. He headed to the booth where the trackers always sat. It was occupied by two young soldiers sharing fried thistle stalks, talking with their heads close together. Copernicus looked at them and they quickly picked up their plates and shifted to another spot. The commander sat down and used a napkin to brush their crumbs off the table surface. Silho slid into the seat opposite him.
He could feel her watching him, studying what he was doing. He looked up – she looked down. He looked down – she looked up. To outsiders, it might have appeared to be a dinner date – she a little nervous, never quite meeting his eyes, he leaning forward, perhaps on the edge of conversation. It might have appeared like that, but anyone worth the air they breathed knew appearances were deceiving. This was, he thought, especially true for Brabel. She presented as meek and submissive, but her eyes spoke another story, and though she attempted to keep herself hidden, she obviously didn’t understand that what she didn’t do told him as much about her as what she did do. He had begun to piece her together like a puzzle that would eventually show the true picture of who she really was. Already he knew her tolerance for pain was far above and beyond the norm. He could see her body-heat throbbing, flaring like flames around her neck and head. She was in significant distress from her injury on the breakwall yet her face betrayed nothing – and that said something. Again he thought that her features were familiar.
Eli’s laughter burst out repeatedly from somewhere in the midst of the bar crowd, which had consumed him on his way to get their drinks. He finally emerged, red-faced, ruffled and grinning, juggling an oversized plate of fried potatoes, a shot of mossink for Copernicus, water for Silho and a strawberry and ketchup milkshake with extra ice-cream for himself. He made it to the table and plonked down beside the commander. He slid in so close that their sides were touching. Copernicus tolerated this otherwise unacceptable proximity because it was Eli and all imp-breeds struggled with the concept of personal space. Eli dispensed the drinks with a rapid whirr of his hands. In the same movement, he grabbed up all four bottles of various sauces from the back of their table and used them to drown the fried potatoes. When they had well and truly vanished, he squirted more sauce into his milkshake then started in on the food – licking his fingers, crunching and slurping, slopping sauce everywhere. Imp-breeds were notoriously messy eaters, banned from many restaurants, especially anywhere near the upper levels. Copernicus could see Eli squishing potato in one hand, barely managing to keep himself from throwing it at someone . . . but barely controlled was far better than he’d been when they had first met each other in late childhood, a time when Eli was virtually unintelligible and stole anything within his grasp. He had, through intensive personal effort, progressed a long way since then.
Eli nudged the commander in the ribs and offered him some food. Copernicus shook his head. A sharp pain stabbed in his chest and he felt short of breath. He touched his lower right ribs and the pain intensified. Most likely, he thought, he’d broken a rib or two during the scuffle with Christy Shawe. His mind returned to the case, to the two rings, the crime scenes they had attended that night, the hollowed-out bodies and missing Androt, Ev’r Keets . . . Somehow it was all connected – but how?
Eli nudged him again in the exact same place and Copernicus bit back a groan as pain lanced his body.
‘Mechanical issues, hey,’ Eli said, referring to Diega, who had asked Jude to wait back with her and check a mechanical issue she was having with the transflyer.
‘Apparently,’ Copernicus replied, his tone dry.
‘That’s funny because the
Ory-4
sounded fine to me. How about you?’ He took a slurp of his drink.
‘Perfect.’
‘Must have been their relationship that needed the repairs then.’ Eli grinned. ‘Oops, I forgot, we’re not supposed to know. I keep forgetting that. Must be because it’s so obvious.’ He reached into his pocket and scooped out his pet otter, placing it on the table. The furry creature stood up on its hind legs and lapped at Eli’s milkshake, its little pink tongue darting in and out.
‘And I wonder what got to Jude at the crime scene? He kind of lost it. It’s not like him,’ Eli continued. He blew bubbles in the drink and the otter sneezed.
Copernicus nodded. Jude
had
kind of lost it, and he was quite sure this had something to do with the Ar Antarian’s encounter with Ev’r Keets. He hadn’t missed their silent exchange in the cell. He’d recruited Jude after Ev’r’s last arrest and alleged death, so that meeting was supposed to be their first, but it had definitely felt as though they already knew each other – or, at least, knew
of
each other. Jude had read Ev’r Keets’ in-depth profile as part of his training, so that was where his knowledge could have originated, but how did Keets know Jude? Copernicus remembered the way the fugitive had used the word
you
– and she had been momentarily surprised. She’d said,
Didn’t you die?
Copernicus knew Jude had been born to a noble family, but was disowned after he’d decided to join the military, which explained why there was no trace of him in the city records. Being disowned by the upper levels meant being erased.
Facts aside, the question stuck – where in his privileged and exclusive upbringing had Jude encountered Ev’r Keets and why would she think he was supposed to be dead? The commander had always suspected there were things about Jude’s past that he kept secret, though Copernicus had never directly interrogated him. He felt they shared an unspoken understanding that some things were better left unsaid and some scars better left unexamined. As far as Copernicus was concerned, full disclosure of childhood was not necessary for a soldier to be trustworthy, but concealment of a criminal history – that was another matter completely. He resolved to talk to Jude about it the next opportunity he had – the kind of talk that received answers whether the other person wanted to give them or not.
He tipped back his glass of mossink and downed the black liquor in one go. It settled warm in his stomach as he considered another factor that might have contributed to his soldier’s loss of control at the second scene. Ev’r Keets had revealed that he and Diega had a history, which, considering Jude and Diega’s current relationship, might have made Jude feel jealous. If Copernicus hadn’t already felt uneasy about Jude’s situation, he would have told the Ar Antarian that he had nothing to worry about. He didn’t want Diega. He didn’t want a girlfriend at all. He loathed stumbling first meetings, despised the back and forth –
Oh, you like that? I like that too, we’re so much alike
. He was done with it. All he wanted was a willing partner for the exact time it took to satisfy his primal needs and not for a second longer. For the rest of the time, he wanted to be alone.
The door buzzed and Jude and Diega entered, looking, if not happier, at least more controlled. Jude, with SevenM riding on his shoulder, came straight to the table and sat down beside Silho. SevenM’s head swivelled towards the new recruit, and the robot reached out a leg and lightly brushed her cheek. Copernicus narrowed his eyes, watching the interaction carefully. Obviously the two of them had developed a rapid connection. And what was it that attracted people – likeness? She was hiding something – was Jude as well? Copernicus found himself studying Jude more closely than he ever had since he’d recruited him. Jude glanced up and Copernicus looked away to the bar where Diega stood, talking to several of her buddies and watching the game. Without a doubt she’d have money riding on it. Ohini Fen loved to gamble, but hated to lose – especially Diega.
‘All good?’ Eli asked Jude.
The Ar Antarian sighed, absently rubbing a hand over his neck, the way he always did when he was stressed. ‘Yes, just tired.’ He activated the menu function on the table and a hologram of the day’s specials appeared in the air before him.
‘I know,’ Eli said, ‘nothing like turning night into day, is there?’ He stretched and yawned and his otter yawned straight after him. Copernicus stifled his own echo of the motion. Out of everyone, he should have been feeling the most tired. Fens didn’t sleep at all, imp-breeds took only minimal rest, and Ar Antarians needed probably half that of human-breeds, who needed sleep the most. Diega finished up with her friends and joined them, sitting down beside Jude, but not too close. She had bought a drink for herself, but nothing for Jude. Copernicus saw him glance from the drink to Diega and back and read a slight annoyance. The Fen was oblivious. She glanced over at the menu, then noticed Eli studying a processor part he’d taken from his pocket. A smile tugged at her mouth. With a whisper of Fen magics, she morphed the metal part into a big phallic sculpture. Eli gaped at it for a moment then realised what she’d done and retaliated, throwing the piece of squished potato he had been playing with directly at her. It splattered on the seat behind her head. She peeled it off and threw it back. He snatched it out of midair with a snap of his hand and grinned wickedly.
‘Eli, enough,’ Copernicus said, knowing he had to intervene before it became an all-out food fight and they were banned from yet another diner. It wasn’t because he liked socialising with his colleagues that they chose to come to this particular diner. It was for the lack of other options. Eli dropped the food, looking shamefaced.
‘And Diega,’ the commander said to the Fen, ‘no one needs to see what’s on your mind.’
Diega gave him a dirty look and said, ‘
Xpel.
’
The suggestive sculpture changed back to the processor part just as a tall Ohini Fen guardian passed the table. He called back to Diega. ‘Hey, Dee – see you tomorrow night. And come wary. I feel lucky.’
‘You keep saying that, Antonius, but you’ve never won once!’ Diega called back with a laugh.
‘What’s happening tomorrow night?’ Eli asked.
‘Card game,’ the Fen replied.
‘Just you and the boys again,’ Eli said. ‘You know you could at least make
some
female friends for my sake.’
‘Still no girlfriend?’ Diega asked.
‘Nope,’ Eli replied. He blew more bubbles in his milkshake. ‘But you never know.’ He looked around the bar with so much innocent hope that Copernicus felt a rare stirring of pity. Eli was one of those poor unfortunates who women loved to hang around with, loved to have as friends, but had absolutely no romantic interest in, and the girls he always fell madly in love with were bossy and controlling – like Diega and his grandmother – and they ran straight over him.
‘You’re too nice,’ Diega said. ‘That’s your problem.’
Jude snorted. ‘What does that even mean? How can someone be too nice?’
Diega ignored him. She nodded to a very short girl in very tall heels standing by the bar. ‘What about her? She looks about your size.’
‘Hestia Ingrahm,’ Eli said. ‘She works reception at Headquarters and she is a
very
nice girl who likes a
very
nice boy called Kinnon West from Narcotics. He’s big, built and handsome. Girls like big, built and handsome, not,’ he glanced down at himself, ‘small, weedy and questionably attractive. Gran’ma always told me it was what was inside that mattered. What a load that was.’
‘How is Nanna?’ Diega gestured to the bar for another drink.
Eli sighed.
A waitress came and gave Diega her drink, then activated the touch screen on the tabletop. She smiled widely at Copernicus, flashing a jaw full of crowded shark-like teeth. The front teeth were smeared with red lipstick and Copernicus felt, as Eli would say, that he was being sized up for the kill. He looked away. Diega had told him, on many occasions, that he was paranoid when it came to women, that he always had a negative first reaction to any woman that approached him. While that was not necessarily untrue, she didn’t know his reasons.
‘What can I get you?’ the waitress asked them.
They ordered their usual meals: the charcoaled steak for Copernicus, sickly rich Fen cakes for Diega, ice-cream and raw eggs swimming in ketchup for Eli, and Jude, after his typical long search through the menu for anything better, took the soup. Silho echoed his order, and as she did, Copernicus noticed her eyes roll back slightly as her pain started to get the better of her. He watched her for a moment, then the subject of food took his mind to another issue he was dealing with that none of the others knew about – a personal problem for which he had, so far, failed to find a solution. He glanced at his chronograph. He needed to come up with something and soon. It wouldn’t be long before Luther reappeared, needing his help. He thought he might have even sensed him for a moment at the Fortitude Hill crime scene, and that was a bad sign. It meant he was getting desperate.
‘Alrighty,’ the waitress said as she finished registering their orders. ‘Won’t be long. Can I get you more drinks?’
‘A cask of water,’ Jude said.
‘And a milkshake, please, Fatima,’ Eli added. ‘And can this one be banana and ketchup, with . . .’
‘Extra ice-cream?’ she said with a smile. ‘For you, Eli, anything.’
Diega downed the last of her beer and held up the glass. ‘Same again.’
Fatima took the glass and walked back to the bar, swaying her hips.
‘What about her?’ Diega asked. ‘She looks like she’d feed you well.’
‘Already married,’ Eli said. ‘And she feeds her nine children, all of them already taller than me, very well.’