A Strangled Cry of Fear. B.A. Chepaitis
of time because he wanted to be thorough. It was past nine when he got back to his apartment, but his telecom was buzzing as soon as he walked in.
He hit the answer key and once again saw the perturbed face of Richard Tremont, this time on his viewscreen.
“Alex—did you talk to Addams yet? What the hell is she playing at?”
“In general,” he said, “Dr. Addams only plays when she’s hunting.”
“Then what the hell is she hunting for? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. We’ve called a meeting. Tomorrow afternoon. Four o’clock, in the boardroom.”
“You want her there?”
“Absolutely not,” Richard said. “But you’d better be.”
With that, he signed off.
Of course, Alex thought. Administratium, the heavy element. When in doubt, it called a meeting. He put his telecom on silent mode and took a moment to contact Jaguar empathically.
She was open to him, but her mood was similar to that of a cat poised either to strike or run away. He got right to the point.
You could’ve warned me, he said into her.
I thought you knew, she replied.
Thought I knew, or thought it would be more fun to surprise me?
Thought you knew, came the definite reply. That, however, was followed immediately by an even more definite mischief. But it was fun, wasn’t it?
A smile formed on his face, against his better judgement. She was right on all counts. He should have guessed. And it was fun, in its own way. A Jaguar kind of way.
He let her feel his laughter, and then he filled her in briefly on what she’d missed after she left. He didn’t mention his conversation with Francis, but he did tell her about the upcoming meeting. Her response was brief.
I’m not going, she told him.
They don’t want you there, he replied.
He sensed her surprise, felt her thoughts moving through the possible implications. Her relationship with him had changed, and she herself had changed in some fundamental ways, but she hadn’t lost her suspicion of the bureaucracy. That, he thought, was a good thing.
How bad is it? she asked.
We’ll figure it out. Lay low. We’ll talk tomorrow.
She offered the thought of her hand pressed to his face, and her stubborn insistence that she was right. With that, she left him, and he made his own way to bed. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, not at all troubled by this. They’d survived much worse, and gone on to see their escapades become nothing more than local legend
* * * *
When Alex entered the boardroom the next afternoon the first face he saw was Regina Hawthorne’s, the Planetoid One governor responsible for Francis Durero’s zone.
“Alex,” she said. “Sit by me.”
Alex raised an index finger to indicate he needed a minute and moved around the table to where his own governor, Paul Dinardo, sat.
Paul gazed up at him, his long, basset hound face looking even glummer than usual. “You gonna say I told you so?”
“I don’t have to, do I?”
Paul ran a hand over his balding pate, then looked at his palm. “Y’know, I had a lot more hair before she started working here.”
“I don’t think you can get her on that one,” Alex noted.
“Yeah. Go see Regina. Maybe you two can work something out.”
Alex patted Paul’s shoulder, then moved around the table and took a seat to Regina’s left.
“Alex,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’ll be better when this is settled. You?”
“Perfectly sanguine,” she said. “This, too, shall pass.”
Alex could see she meant it. Her face expressed only calm. It was, in general, a calm face, her short and curling silver hair framing wide blue eyes in a circle of fair skin with soft lines that seemed as if they’d been etched in at birth. Unlike many governors, Regina always looked as if time was her friend.
She gave the impression that she’d seen all the world and could cope, which might explain why she was the untitled Uber-governor for Planetoid One. She never panicked, and she had a way of sharing her quiet energy that made her popular. She was often in the hot seat, the one called on to give press conferences for controversial cases with home planet interest, the one asked to address legislative funding meetings. And she was responsible for the programming Planetoid One had now, with its emphasis on medical intervention, and its work programs.
Alex didn’t necessarily agree with everything she did, but he admired her personal integrity and valued the peace she could bring to a volatile situation. He hoped it would work at this meeting, attended by many of the same people from the execution committee, with a few additions from Planetoid One. Most were talking quietly to each other or using their cellcoms to make last minute contact with people in their zone regarding other important matters. Alex kept his attention on Regina, whose voice was most important here.
She would moderate, the source of reason and calm. And though she operated on a consensus basis, if she was against any of the suggestions raised they just wouldn’t fly.
She looked around, taking in the moods and agendas of those in attendance and processing them all through her fine mill. Alex, who’d seen her testing run, knew she wasn’t positive for empathic skills, but her social intelligence was unrivaled. He had no doubt she’d long since classified him in her master schemata and decided how to manage him. Now she turned a smile his way. “How’s Jaguar?” she asked.
“Doing well,” he said. “You should go see her. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“It has,” she said. “We keep in touch, though.”
Regina was the only person from Planetoid One Jaguar still spoke with. Though they were miles apart in their vision for Planetoid work, they had a deep respect for each other. As the first female governor, Regina had claimed power within a very male dominated system, and so she’d been a role model for Jaguar. She was also, like Jaguar, a study in contradictions.
Though she didn’t approve of using the empathic arts with prisoners, she also didn’t believe empaths should be fired. That, for a brief time, made her Alex’s ally. When Jaguar faced dismissal for using psi capacities Regina supported his request to have her transferred to Planetoid Three instead. She was adamant about treating empaths without prejudice, but she was equally adamant about Jaguar leaving One. It wasn’t, she said, a direction they wanted to take.
“I wanted Jaguar to be here,” Regina said now. “The others made such a noise about it I decided it was more of a risk than a benefit.”
“Really? I’d think they’d welcome the chance to pound away at her.”
Regina tilted her head at him. “Don’t you know?
“I don’t even know why I’m here,” he said. “What happens to Francis has nothing to do with us, once the decision not to execute is rendered.”
Governor Richard Tremont approached Regina, touched her shoulder lightly. “Shouldn’t we begin?”
“Yes. Of course.” She turned her attention to the other occupants of the room. “If we could all be seated?”
There was general movement, followed by a general stillness as everyone settled in.
“This meeting,” she said, “will determine the best course of action to take in the matter of Francis Durero. First, we’ll hear suggestions. With any luck, discussion will lead to consensus.”
Alex