I started across the open ground toward Perrymeade and Sand, not looking back, not looking ahead, either. I had no idea what they wanted; I only knew that if they were here in person it had to be something I didn’t want to know about.
“What?” I said to Perrymeade, barely able to keep my voice even, with nothing left to make the word civil.
“It’s about last night. The kidnapping,” he said, looking like a man with a gun to his head.
I stopped breathing. Shit. I met his eyes, saw the blank incomprehension as he registered what showed in mine. “Let’s get it over with,” I muttered, feeling a dozen sets of eyes holding me in a crossfire.
“I thought you couldn’t do that,” he said.
“What?” I said again, probably looking as confused as he did this time.
“Read minds. I thought you were dysfunctional.”
I felt the blood come back to my face in a rush. “I am. What about it?”
“Then how do you know why we’re here?”
I shrugged. “Because it only makes sense that you’d want to get rid of me.”
The look on his face got odder. “That’s not it at all,” he said, and suddenly he looked relieved. “We want your help in dealing with the kidnapper you encountered last night.”
“Jeezu—” I turned away, not sure whether it was relief or anger that made my brain sing. I looked back at him. “Why?” I said. “Why me?”
“The Hydran Council is being … uncooperative,” Sand answered. “We think maybe they’d talk to you, as an”—he glanced at my eyes—“outsider.”
“A freak,” I said.
He shrugged.
“They all know that you were willing to help a Hydran woman you thought was in trouble,” Perrymeade said, looking self-conscious.
“She set me up. She used me. She thinks I’m stupid.” She knows what I am. I shook my head. “I can’t do that. The Hydrans aren’t going to trust me.”
“I don’t have many options here,” Perrymeade said. “And unfortunately, neither do you.”
Kissindre came up beside me. “Is there a problem?” she said, matching the look on Perrymeade’s face as it turned to annoyance. She folded her arms, standing on her own ground, the team leader and not the dutiful niece.
“No problem,” I said, meeting Perrymeade’s eyes. “I’ve got work to do.” I started to turn away.
“Borosage has issued a deportation order on you,” Sand said behind my back. “If you don’t cooperate, the Tau government will revoke your work permit. You’ll be off this project and off the planet inside of a day.”
I turned back, slowly, and looked at them: Sand with his inhuman eyes, Perrymeade hanging on invisible puppet strings beside him.
“You miserable bastard,” Kissindre whispered, so far under her breath that even I barely heard it. I wondered which one she meant; hoped for her sake it was Sand. “What is this?” she asked. “Uncle Janos—?”
“It’s about the kidnapping.” I jerked my head at Sand. “They want me to be their cat’s-paw.”
Kissindre started, the only one of them who got the reference.
“Go-between,” Perrymeade said. “Our go-between with the Hydrans, Kissindre. We’re not getting the cooperation we need from the Hydran community to … to rescue the kidnapped child. Under the circumstances, it seems that Cat is the logical person to help us—the only person who might have a chance of gaining the Hydrans’ trust or cooperation.” He turned back to me. “We really need your help, son.”
“Right,” I said.
“Damn it! This is asinine—” Kissindre’s fists settled on her hips as she looked from Perrymeade to Sand. “You brought us here to do work for you. I thought that was important for Tau’s ‘rehabilitation.’ How in the nine billion names of God are we supposed to do this work if you’re already interfering with it?”
“Kissindre…” Perrymeade said. He glanced at Sand too, as if he wasn’t sure about what he was going to say next. “The kidnapped child is your cousin.”
“What?” she said. “Who?”
“My nephew Joby. My wife’s sister’s son.”
“Joby? The baby, the one who was—” She broke off.
He nodded. “He was taken by the Hydran woman who worked as his therapist. I set up the exchange program that gave her the training and put her in that position.”
Realization filled her eyes. “My God,” she murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”
He glanced at Sand again. “I didn’t even find out myself until this morning.” His voice was even, but there was resentment in it. “This whole situation is one that the Tau government wants played down, for … a number of reasons.” He glanced away again, not looking at any of us this time. I followed his line of sight to the spot where the two Feds were standing, out of earshot, listening to Ezra lecture them about the equipment. “But especially because they believe the boy was taken by a radical group. His safety depends on our keeping this quiet. If it becomes public knowledge, there could be—incidents that would endanger Joby’s safety and hurt people on both sides of the river.”
“And make the Feds ask questions you don’t want to answer,” I said.
He frowned. “That is not the point.”
“Yes, it is. It’s keiretsu.”
“Don’t make judgments about situations you don’t understand,” Sand said irritably. He turned back to Kissindre. “I am extremely sorry for this intrusion. You will have no further interference from us, I promise you. But your team will have to function without one of its members for now. Whether that is a temporary or a permanent situation is up to him.” He bent his head at me.
I scratched my face, winced. “So if I go, and I talk to the Hydran Council, that’s it?” I glanced at Perrymeade, back at Sand. “If they won’t deal with me, then you’ll leave me alone?”
Sand nodded.
I nodded, finally. “All right,” I said. I glanced at Kissindre. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry.” She looked at her uncle; he looked down. I wondered what she was thinking as she walked away and left us standing there.
Wauno raised his eyebrows as Perrymeade ordered him to take us back to Tau Riverton. But he did it, not asking any questions. Maybe he was more of a company man than I’d thought, or maybe he just didn’t give a damn.
When we were over Riverton again, Perrymeade gave Wauno an address and told him to take us down.
“What are we doing?” I said. “I thought we were going to meet with the Hydrans.”
“We’re making a stop here,” Perrymeade said, acknowledging my existence for the first time since we’d gotten into the transport. “I want you to meet the parents of the missing child.”
I stiffened. “You didn’t say anything about that.”
“I want you to meet my sister-in-law,” Perrymeade said. “I want you to have some sense of who she is and what she’s been through.”
I felt my face flush. “No.” Wauno glanced back at us and away.
“If you really understand what she’s going through, then it will be easier for you to make the Hydrans understand it.”
“Or would you rather have us drop you at the Corporate Security station for your escort off the planet?” Sand murmured. Wauno glanced back over his shoulder again.
I folded my arms across my chest, my hands clenching on the heavy folds of my jacket.
“I really hope we don’t have to do that,” Sand said.
I looked out the window and didn’t say anything.
Wauno landed us on a public access, and we got out. He touched his forehead with his fingers in a kind of salute, nodding at me, before he sealed the hatch again. I watched the transport rise out of reach and disappear into the cold morning sky.
Perrymeade led the way across a perfectly landscaped park-space to a high-rise plex. Sand stayed a little behind me without seeming to, ready to step on my heels if I lagged. I didn’t see a single piece of litter or dog
shit anywhere as we walked.
The residence complex reminded me of my hotel and every other building I’d been inside of since I got here. Maybe it looked more expensive. Before long we were standing in front of a door on an upper floor. The security system took Perrymeade’s ID and let us in.
A small, neat, dark-haired woman met us inside. Her upslanting brown eyes searched our faces, looking for something—a sign, hope. She didn’t find it. Her own face was colorless where it wasn’t red and swollen, as if she’d cried for a long time, recently. But she wasn’t crying now, and her face settled into resignation. “Janos,” she said. “There’s no news.” It could have been a question, an answer, or just something to say.
Perrymeade shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ling.”
The woman seemed to recognize Sand. Her glance skittered off his face, landed on me as Sand gave me an unobtrusive shove forward.
“So far the Hydrans have been … reluctant to give us information,” Perrymeade said, “if they actually have any to give. But we’ve brought someone with us who may be able to help.” He nodded at me as another man came into our line of sight. The man was tall and dark; he had on a Corporate Security uniform. I froze, not sure whether he was supposed to be the father or one of Borosage’s goons. But his uniform had different datapatches—he was in plant security. The father. He put his arms around the woman. The grief on his face matched hers.
They looked me over silently for some clue about what I was doing here, until their combined gaze reached my face, registered my eyes. Then they knew. The man shook his head. The woman’s mouth made a silent oh.
In the space behind them I noticed five or six other people watching, waiting—friends, or family, maybe. One of the women came forward, touched Perrymeade’s arm, spoke to him. He nodded, distracted, and she moved away again. She was small and dark-haired, with the same upslanting eyes as the mother. I wondered if she was the woman’s sister, Perrymeade’s wife.
“This is Cat,” Perrymeade said. “He’s with the xenoarchaeology team. He was the last person to see the kidnappers last night.” I realized that what he meant was the last human. “I thought I should bring you together to … share what you know about what happened.”
Sand gave me another hidden elbow; I had to move or fall down. I took one painful step and then another into the home of the people whose child I’d helped kidnap. I groped through my memories of last night in Borosage’s interrogation room until I found their names. I seemed to remember Ling and Burnell Natasa. Their son was Joby. I wondered whether Perrymeade had forgotten to introduce them to me because he really was as worried about their child as they were, or whether he was just being an inconsiderate shit. I supposed it didn’t matter either way.
“Cat—?” the woman said dubiously, the way people usually did.
I nodded, still not looking directly at either of them.
They led us into a large open room that looked out on sky and parkland. Their other visitors didn’t follow. Everything in the room was expensive, spotless, and perfectly matched to everything else. I settled into a modular seat with its back to the view. The sight of so much open space made me dizzy.
The parents sat down across from me, under a threedy screen tuned to the endless drone of the Tau newscast. I wondered whether they actually believed it would tell them something. The man ordered it off, and suddenly the wall was a blank slate, white, empty. Sand and Perrymeade were still standing at the limits of my vision, almost out of sight, but not out of mind. I hugged my chest and waited.
“You saw Joby and … and Miya last night?” the father asked.
I made myself look into his eyes and nod.
“Where?” he asked when that was all I did.
“In Fre—in the Hydran town,” I said, not sure why just saying that made my face burn.
“You have relatives there?” the mother asked me, as if she thought that was why I could help them, or maybe because that was the only reason she could imagine for anyone going to Freaktown.
“No,” I said, glancing away.
“Yes,” Perrymeade said. “In a sense…” as I looked up at him, frowning.
I looked down again, knowing that it was already obvious to everyone here that I had Hydran blood.
“Did you try to stop her?” the father asked. “Did you see our son? Was he all right—?”
Looking back at my memories, I realized the boy in her arms could have been dead, for all I knew. But somehow I didn’t think so. “It was dark. I saw them for less than a minute. It all happened so fast.” My hands knotted together between my knees.
“He helped them get away from Corporate Security,” Sand said.
“For God’s sake—” The father half rose from his seat.
I glared at Sand. “She said it was her child! She said they were trying to take her child.”
“So you … you believed you were helping her, then?” the mother asked, her voice thready, her eyes intent.
I nodded, biting the insides of my mouth.
“Is that what Corporate Security thinks?” the father asked, glancing from Perrymeade to Sand.
“They questioned him thoroughly.” Sand’s unblinking silver eyes glanced off the scabs and bruises that had made half my face look like some kind of bizarre cosmo job. Everyone’s eyes were back on me then. Suddenly my face hurt.
“Joby doesn’t look Hydran.” Burnell Natasa gave me a look as he sat back down again. Not like you do. I saw it in his eyes.
“It was dark,” I said again. “I couldn’t tell.”
“And if you hadn’t interfered, they might have caught her?” his wife asked. There was more grief than anger in her voice.
I shrugged, slumping back in my seat.
“He feels responsible, Ling. That’s why he volunteered to help us negotiate with the Hydrans,” Perrymeade said, as slick as glass. “To make up for his mistake.”
“What do you think you can do that the Tau authorities can’t?” the father asked me. “Can you read their minds? Find out what they’ve done with our son—?”
I glanced at Perrymeade, because I didn’t have an answer for that one either. He didn’t give me any help. So instead I asked the question that had been gnawing at my thoughts since last night: “Why did you hire a Hydran to take care of your son?” Considering how most people reacted to Hydrans on this world, I couldn’t believe it was something they would have done just because Hydrans were cheap labor.
The father stiffened, barely controlling his reaction. He looked at Perrymeade and then Sand. His mouth thinned, and he didn’t say anything.
The mother got up and moved across the room to a low table. She picked up a picture and brought it to me. “This is Joby, with Miya,” she said. “Is this the woman you saw last night?”
As she put the frame into my hands it activated, showing me a Hydran woman—the one I’d seen last night—crouched down, holding a human child in her arms.
“That’s her,” I whispered finally, as I realized that my silence had gone on for too long. A rush of sourceless heat made me giddy, as if her face was the face of a lost lover. I forced myself to focus on the child in her arms. He was maybe one or two, with dark curls and a round, sweet baby face. I watched him wave, saw him smile.…
There was something wrong with him. I couldn’t put a name to it as the realization slid down my back like cold lips. I glanced at Ling Natasa; saw her catch my expression. This time she was the one who looked away.
She took the picture back. “Our son suffered neurological damage,” she said, barely audible. “Before he was born. I’m a biochemist. There was a … an accident in the lab while I was pregnant. Joby was affected.”
I wondered what kind of accident would cause a defect so severe that they couldn’t fix it. I wondered why she’d gone ahead and had the baby, if she knew … but maybe that was a question no one could answer. I wondered what had gone on in her mind then; wondered what was going on in it now.
“Joby has
no way of interacting with the world around him,” she said, the words dreary and full of pain. “He can’t speak, he can’t hear, he can’t control his body. His mind is whole, inside that … that precious prison. But he’s completely helpless.”
Her eyes turned distant; she wasn’t seeing any of us anymore. I wondered whether she was wondering where he was now, whether he was crying and afraid, whether someone was hurting him.… I glanced at his picture, and my stomach knotted.
She looked at me again, and she didn’t react at the sight of my strange eyes. “We hired Miya to care for him because she’s the only one who can reach him.”
I blinked as I realized what she meant: what made a Hydran perfect for the job of caring for their son. Her psi. A therapist with the Gift could penetrate that shell of flesh, make contact with the mind locked inside it, in a way that no human ever could … not even his parents.
“She did things for him that … we couldn’t do,” Ling Natasa said, as if she’d read my mind. This time I heard longing and pain—her own pain—in the words.
“Do you have any other children?” I asked.
She looked up at me, suddenly, sharply. I wasn’t sure what the look meant. “No,” she said, and that was all.
I didn’t ask why not. Maybe one like this was enough.
“Miya … Miya was devoted to Joby. She was always there for him … she was his lifeline. And ours, to him.”
“She was trained at our medical facilities to do rehabilitation therapy,” Burnell Natasa said. “She was able to help Joby so much because—” He broke off, glanced uncomfortably at Sand.
“Because of her Gift,” Ling Natasa said, glancing at me. It surprised me to hear someone who wasn’t a psion call it that, speak about it the right way.
“Then she wasn’t wearing a detector?” Sand demanded.
“A detector?” I said. “What’s that?”
“It delivers a shock when it detects psi activity.” He looked at me with his usual pitiless indifference. “Like the stun collars Corporate Security uses to monitor petty criminals. I assume you’re familiar with those.”
I flushed and looked away.
“She was a fully licensed therapist,” Perrymeade said, sounding defensive now. “She was the first to complete the program … a cooperative program that I set up with the support of Riverton’s medical center and the Hydran Council. They were training Hydrans as therapists to help patients like my nephew, who can’t be helped by conventional treatment. Joby’s condition gave me the idea for it.”