"What happened ... it's a terrible tragedy, of course, Jory," Tomas Proleque said.
Jorion Roth studied the man opposite him. Tomas Proleque, age 54, section manager, F.I.O. Anti-Piracy Division. Behind a desk for fifteen years. "But?"
"I'm sorry?" Tomas said.
"You were going to say, 'it's a terrible tragedy, but'," Jorion said. He smiled a thin-lipped, dead-eyed smile, deliberately chosen for its unsettling effect.
On cue, Tomas shifted uneasily. "There's only so much you can do, Jory."
"Oh, I know," Jorion assured him.
"Well, good. There's been some ... some concern, Jory."
"Concern?" Tomas couldn't meet his gaze, Jorion noted with carefully-hidden amusement.
"At your use of resources." The section manager stared at the top of Jorion's desk. "It's a personal tragedy, Jory. Not a professional matter."
Jorion could imagine the exchange of messages that had brought Tomas down here. Something stronger than 'concern', he thought, to get this little man to take his courage in both hands and confront me.
Time to pour some oil on the troubled waters at HQ.
He smiled again, this time choosing the slightly rueful, apologetic version, and watched Tomas relax a little. "You're right, Tomas. I might have let myself get a little carried away."
"It's understandable," Tomas hastened to reassure him. "She's your eldest daughter. And now your youngest, as well ... Anyone might lose perspective."
Jorion nodded sadly. "But that's something we can't afford to do in this job. Thank you for reminding me of that, Tomas. I appreciate it."
"Well, no harm done," Tomas said. He got to his feet. Even reassured he can't wait to get away from me, Jorion noted. "And you know, Jory, if you need to talk to someone, my door's always open."
"I appreciate it," Jorion said. Let him stew on the idea I might just take him up on that.
After a few more expressions of sympathy, Tomas made his escape. Jorion waited until the section manager's footsteps had faded away down the hall before he reached for the keyboard in front of him, tapping in the code that dismissed the chart of Angel Cartel ship movements and brought up the files he had been working on before Tomas had invited himself into the office.
A list of names scrolled past, some blinking to indicate the global search results had updated. Luisa Kamajeck, Michael Mitcheson, Fisk Hurun, Helmi Alpassi ...
Jorion studied them. Who are you, aside from Cia's crew?
Where do you come from? Why do you work for a Sansha pilot?
What do you want?
What do you fear?
What do you have to gain?
What do you have to lose?
He set those questions aside for the moment, letting the programs he'd written do the initial work of searching and sorting and classifying. A few more keystrokes brought up another file, this one a collection of images.
Divide file: A < 16.12.110; B > 16.12.110
Obediently, the file split itself into two, and with a few more keystrokes each half displayed itself on different screens.
Posed family photographs appeared on the screen to his left. Jorion paged through them with the press of a button.
Flip. Nineteen-year-old Cia standing awkwardly at the back of one of her mother's parties. Flip. Thirteen-year-old Cia carefully holding her new sister Camille. Flip. Cia and all four of her siblings at the beach on a family holiday.
He turned to the screen on his right, brought up more recent images, grainier surveillance shots, stills from holovision, and paged through those too.
Jorion Roth studied the man opposite him. Tomas Proleque, age 54, section manager, F.I.O. Anti-Piracy Division. Behind a desk for fifteen years. "But?"
"I'm sorry?" Tomas said.
"You were going to say, 'it's a terrible tragedy, but'," Jorion said. He smiled a thin-lipped, dead-eyed smile, deliberately chosen for its unsettling effect.
On cue, Tomas shifted uneasily. "There's only so much you can do, Jory."
"Oh, I know," Jorion assured him.
"Well, good. There's been some ... some concern, Jory."
"Concern?" Tomas couldn't meet his gaze, Jorion noted with carefully-hidden amusement.
"At your use of resources." The section manager stared at the top of Jorion's desk. "It's a personal tragedy, Jory. Not a professional matter."
Jorion could imagine the exchange of messages that had brought Tomas down here. Something stronger than 'concern', he thought, to get this little man to take his courage in both hands and confront me.
Time to pour some oil on the troubled waters at HQ.
He smiled again, this time choosing the slightly rueful, apologetic version, and watched Tomas relax a little. "You're right, Tomas. I might have let myself get a little carried away."
"It's understandable," Tomas hastened to reassure him. "She's your eldest daughter. And now your youngest, as well ... Anyone might lose perspective."
Jorion nodded sadly. "But that's something we can't afford to do in this job. Thank you for reminding me of that, Tomas. I appreciate it."
"Well, no harm done," Tomas said. He got to his feet. Even reassured he can't wait to get away from me, Jorion noted. "And you know, Jory, if you need to talk to someone, my door's always open."
"I appreciate it," Jorion said. Let him stew on the idea I might just take him up on that.
After a few more expressions of sympathy, Tomas made his escape. Jorion waited until the section manager's footsteps had faded away down the hall before he reached for the keyboard in front of him, tapping in the code that dismissed the chart of Angel Cartel ship movements and brought up the files he had been working on before Tomas had invited himself into the office.
A list of names scrolled past, some blinking to indicate the global search results had updated. Luisa Kamajeck, Michael Mitcheson, Fisk Hurun, Helmi Alpassi ...
Jorion studied them. Who are you, aside from Cia's crew?
Where do you come from? Why do you work for a Sansha pilot?
What do you want?
What do you fear?
What do you have to gain?
What do you have to lose?
He set those questions aside for the moment, letting the programs he'd written do the initial work of searching and sorting and classifying. A few more keystrokes brought up another file, this one a collection of images.
Divide file: A < 16.12.110; B > 16.12.110
Obediently, the file split itself into two, and with a few more keystrokes each half displayed itself on different screens.
Posed family photographs appeared on the screen to his left. Jorion paged through them with the press of a button.
Flip. Nineteen-year-old Cia standing awkwardly at the back of one of her mother's parties. Flip. Thirteen-year-old Cia carefully holding her new sister Camille. Flip. Cia and all four of her siblings at the beach on a family holiday.
He turned to the screen on his right, brought up more recent images, grainier surveillance shots, stills from holovision, and paged through those too.
Flip, Cia crossing a spacedock, four tall guards around her. Flip. A still from the holonews, Camille walking hand-in-metal-hand with a Naqam officer. Flip. Cia at a restaurant in a dark blue dress, surrounded by people Jorion recognised, even those he'd never met. Vikarion. Lycana. Zegerth Kelja. The half-machine Naqam officer, Amieta Invelen and her captain, Silver Night.
Fitting an earpiece to his ear, Jorion brought up an audio file. His daughter's voice murmured in his ear. She sounds just like she always did, he thought as he listened to her say I have to keep reminding myself, I don't know any of these people - even Captain Vikarion ... Cia said on the audio-playback and Jorion wondered if there was a point in the diary entries he'd copied from her files that he could point to and say, There. That's it. The point I lost her.
Nothing showed in her voice as she prattled I bet the people who say such mean things about NAQAM and the other pro-Sansha corporations would change their minds if they knew what Silver – and Zegerth, and Vikarion – are really like.
He stopped the playback. There was nothing new in it. By now I could record those entries myself, down to the hesitations.Looking at the screen to his left, he added: And draw those family happy-snaps from memory, too.
Consigning them back to storage with the touch of a button, Jorion brought up another set of records. The file name displayed briefly, Audio-visual security surveillance, residence of Agent Roth.
Hours, weeks, years of footage. Jorion sorted through it with half his attention, gaze returning again and again to the right-hand screen, to his daughter's new 'friends'.
He stopped the surveillance at random. Cia, not looking much younger than she had the last time he saw her, although seeming quite a bit younger than in the picture displayed to his right, sitting at her desk, head bent over her workstation. The plaintive tones of what Jorion recognised as a song popular a few years ago drifted from the speakers on her desk.
I know a cold as cold as it gets, I know a darkness, darker than cold ...
She'd spent a lot of time alone in her room that year, Jorion remembered, studying. Typical teenage girl, he'd thought at the time. All teenage girls spend hours alone in their room listening to sad songs and crying over the boys who'll never love them.
I know a cold as cold as it gets...
Had he been wrong? Had that been where she'd started to turn against him?
I know a darkness, darker than cold ...
Jorion turned back to the image on the right-hand screen. No. He hadn't been wrong. Cia had been fine, a normal, happy girl, occasionally a little moody perhaps, until ...
He tapped one finger against the screen as the once-famous singer crooned in his ear.
To the end of the stars, I'll search for your face ...
A normal girl, until ...
Fitting an earpiece to his ear, Jorion brought up an audio file. His daughter's voice murmured in his ear. She sounds just like she always did, he thought as he listened to her say I have to keep reminding myself, I don't know any of these people - even Captain Vikarion ... Cia said on the audio-playback and Jorion wondered if there was a point in the diary entries he'd copied from her files that he could point to and say, There. That's it. The point I lost her.
Nothing showed in her voice as she prattled I bet the people who say such mean things about NAQAM and the other pro-Sansha corporations would change their minds if they knew what Silver – and Zegerth, and Vikarion – are really like.
He stopped the playback. There was nothing new in it. By now I could record those entries myself, down to the hesitations.Looking at the screen to his left, he added: And draw those family happy-snaps from memory, too.
Consigning them back to storage with the touch of a button, Jorion brought up another set of records. The file name displayed briefly, Audio-visual security surveillance, residence of Agent Roth.
Hours, weeks, years of footage. Jorion sorted through it with half his attention, gaze returning again and again to the right-hand screen, to his daughter's new 'friends'.
He stopped the surveillance at random. Cia, not looking much younger than she had the last time he saw her, although seeming quite a bit younger than in the picture displayed to his right, sitting at her desk, head bent over her workstation. The plaintive tones of what Jorion recognised as a song popular a few years ago drifted from the speakers on her desk.
I know a cold as cold as it gets, I know a darkness, darker than cold ...
She'd spent a lot of time alone in her room that year, Jorion remembered, studying. Typical teenage girl, he'd thought at the time. All teenage girls spend hours alone in their room listening to sad songs and crying over the boys who'll never love them.
I know a cold as cold as it gets...
Had he been wrong? Had that been where she'd started to turn against him?
I know a darkness, darker than cold ...
Jorion turned back to the image on the right-hand screen. No. He hadn't been wrong. Cia had been fine, a normal, happy girl, occasionally a little moody perhaps, until ...
He tapped one finger against the screen as the once-famous singer crooned in his ear.
To the end of the stars, I'll search for your face ...
A normal girl, until ...
Until Vikarion. Lycana. Zegerth Kelja. Until that thing Cia handed Camille over to, Amieta Invelen. Until Silver Night.
His search program had compiled files on all of them from the records of all the different jurisdictions, but they were mostly maddeningly short. He'd been able to add more details from Cia's files, but still ...
On the left-hand screen teenage Cia lifted her head and turned toward the speakers. To the end of the stars, I'll search for your face, for the one who laid all of our history to waste ... Jorion's lips twitched, the closest he'd come to an unguarded smile for fifteen years. Teenage girls and their angst.
He turned back to the right-hand screen and enlarged the image, shifting from one face to the next. Some of them looked almost normal, looked as if they'd be able to pass in a crowd. He had them all by heart. He looked again anyway.
I am the one who crawled through the wire ....
He'd been close to them, that night. He'd be close to them again.
I know a cold as cold as it gets, I know a darkness darker than cold...
He'd have answers to his questions.
Who are you? he wondered. Where do you come from?
Why become Sansha? Why take my daughter?
What do you want?
What do you fear?
What do you have to gain?
What do you have to lose?
Questions without answers, for now.
But questions I will find answers too. Nobody moves through the universe without leaving some sort of trail, some sort of indication about what they want, what they need, what matters ...
He had all their names. That would be enough.
I know a cold as cold as it gets, I know a darkness that's darker than cold ...
Well ...
Almost all their names, Jorion corrected himself.
He tapped his finger against the screen again. Captain 'Silver Night'. You told my daughter that it can be dangerous, being too close to a capsuleer. That's what she said in her diary.
Were you speaking from experience?
The search program brought up nothing besides basic employment history.
I dream in my sleep, I dream in my days , of some sunny street not so far away
Where up in a window a curtain will sway, And you and I'll meet down below...
Jorion called up the program and enhanced it. You exist. You have a past.
I'm sure you believe you have a future.
He tapped a key and the image vanished, replaced by the grainy holo-capture of little Camille, looking trustingly up at Silver Night's XO, the thing's metal hand resting on her shoulder.
You've taken two daughters from me.
The holo on his desk caught his eye, wife, sons, daughter. The family he had left.
I know a cold as cold as it gets, I fight a war, I may never see won...
He picked up the holo. I had five children. Letting it drop back to the desk, he turned to the screen again, barely hearing the songs as it drew to a close.
I live only to see you live to regret...
It was easy to bypass the safeguards that were supposed to prevent an agent at his level from deploying FIO assets outside his section. Easy to send out orders for surveillance, information gathering ...
I live only to see you live to regret, everything that you've done...
He closed down the workstation, Cia vanishing as quickly and completely from the screen as he wished she'd had the sense to vanish from his life. The sanshas seemed to linger as an afterimage on the screen.
Vikarion. Lycana. Zegerth Kelja.
Commander Amieta Invelen.
Captain 'Silver Night'.
Jorion Roth closed his eyes, still seeing their faces on the inside of his eyelids.
You've taken two daughters from me.
I wonder what there is I can take from you?
His search program had compiled files on all of them from the records of all the different jurisdictions, but they were mostly maddeningly short. He'd been able to add more details from Cia's files, but still ...
On the left-hand screen teenage Cia lifted her head and turned toward the speakers. To the end of the stars, I'll search for your face, for the one who laid all of our history to waste ... Jorion's lips twitched, the closest he'd come to an unguarded smile for fifteen years. Teenage girls and their angst.
He turned back to the right-hand screen and enlarged the image, shifting from one face to the next. Some of them looked almost normal, looked as if they'd be able to pass in a crowd. He had them all by heart. He looked again anyway.
I am the one who crawled through the wire ....
He'd been close to them, that night. He'd be close to them again.
I know a cold as cold as it gets, I know a darkness darker than cold...
He'd have answers to his questions.
Who are you? he wondered. Where do you come from?
Why become Sansha? Why take my daughter?
What do you want?
What do you fear?
What do you have to gain?
What do you have to lose?
Questions without answers, for now.
But questions I will find answers too. Nobody moves through the universe without leaving some sort of trail, some sort of indication about what they want, what they need, what matters ...
He had all their names. That would be enough.
I know a cold as cold as it gets, I know a darkness that's darker than cold ...
Well ...
Almost all their names, Jorion corrected himself.
He tapped his finger against the screen again. Captain 'Silver Night'. You told my daughter that it can be dangerous, being too close to a capsuleer. That's what she said in her diary.
Were you speaking from experience?
The search program brought up nothing besides basic employment history.
I dream in my sleep, I dream in my days , of some sunny street not so far away
Where up in a window a curtain will sway, And you and I'll meet down below...
Jorion called up the program and enhanced it. You exist. You have a past.
I'm sure you believe you have a future.
He tapped a key and the image vanished, replaced by the grainy holo-capture of little Camille, looking trustingly up at Silver Night's XO, the thing's metal hand resting on her shoulder.
You've taken two daughters from me.
The holo on his desk caught his eye, wife, sons, daughter. The family he had left.
I know a cold as cold as it gets, I fight a war, I may never see won...
He picked up the holo. I had five children. Letting it drop back to the desk, he turned to the screen again, barely hearing the songs as it drew to a close.
I live only to see you live to regret...
It was easy to bypass the safeguards that were supposed to prevent an agent at his level from deploying FIO assets outside his section. Easy to send out orders for surveillance, information gathering ...
I live only to see you live to regret, everything that you've done...
He closed down the workstation, Cia vanishing as quickly and completely from the screen as he wished she'd had the sense to vanish from his life. The sanshas seemed to linger as an afterimage on the screen.
Vikarion. Lycana. Zegerth Kelja.
Commander Amieta Invelen.
Captain 'Silver Night'.
Jorion Roth closed his eyes, still seeing their faces on the inside of his eyelids.
You've taken two daughters from me.
I wonder what there is I can take from you?
The lyrics in this story are slightly adapted from Patty Griffin's 'Cold As It Gets', which you can listen to at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gH4yy7S8rt4
ReplyDeleteif you don't mind the fact that the only clip I could find was the audio for a fanvid for some TV series.