“There are . . . rules,” Niko choked out. “We have jade and these people don’t.”
“We also have armored tanks and rocket launchers and satellite imagery,” Hicks retorted. “What’s your point?”
Falston said with brusque reasonableness, “Listen, if the bad guys didn’t hide among civilians, this wouldn’t happen, but sometimes it does. It happened when I was in Oortoko too, more often than I like to think about. You can’t let it eat you up, crumb. This is war. The company has to have written policies and shit, for legal reasons, but trust me, no one higher up wants us to report this.”
Hicks said, “We eliminated the target, that’s what we report. The three men in the truck probably were Deliverantist rebels.” When Niko opened his mouth again, Hicks put his face right up to him, so close Niko could smell the man’s breath and see the hairs in his thin nostrils as they flared. “Enough, you thick-headed keck. Some crazy shit happened and we’re all rattled, but I’m the team leader here, and we’re going to do what I say. You got a problem with that?”
No one had ever spoken to Niko with such aggressive disrespect before and for several seconds, his brain was as blank as his face must’ve appeared. Then a number of replies sprang to mind—but he didn’t possess a profane enough vocabulary in the Espenian language to express any of them. His inarticulate shame felt as hot as a sudden fever. If it were possible to offer a clean blade, he would’ve done so on the spot.
He could defy his Espenian teammates and go up the chain of command, all the way to Jim Sunto, or to GSI’s parent company, Anorco Global Resources. And then what? His mind veered in helpless directions. Would their superiors believe his word over that of Falston and Hicks? Would the men be disciplined, or would the blame fall harder on him and Teije? Was Falston correct, that any report would be unwelcome and met with recrimination, and in the end, the incident would be deemed unavoidable collateral damage?
Either way, the girl in the truck would not come back to life.
Hicks’s eyes were still drilling into his. The jade auras of the other men were blaring shrill in his mind. He glimpsed Falston’s grip tightening on his R5 as Teije’s head swung between Niko and Hicks with skyrocketing anxiety. “Niko-jen . . .”
Niko stepped back and dropped his gaze. He hated himself for doing it, for deferring to a man he’d just seen unload an assault rifle into a truck with children, a man who would be dead if he’d spoken to Niko in such a way in Kekon.
But they were not not in Kekon. Niko had none of the clan’s Fingers behind him, none of his family’s power, no one else but Teije watching.
“No problem,” he muttered.
Hicks grunted an acknowledgment. “Good,” he snapped. Then he added, with less force, “I didn’t mean to call you a keck. We all got too worked up, is all.”
“We should get out of here,” Falston urged. He turned around and began to trek purposefully through the woods toward the rendezvous point two kilometers away, where a GSI armored vehicle would pick them up. Hicks followed. After a moment, Teije did as well. Niko brought up the rear. He did not look back at the road.
Once, when he was a child, Niko had asked his aunt Shae why she believed in the gods. She’d given him a strange but clear-eyed look. “Because I’ve felt them watching me.”
Niko had been disappointed. He’d expected a more rational explanation from the Weather Man. Now, at last, he understood her answer. With each step he took in the snow, Niko sank beneath the feeling of some terrible attention turning toward him, reaching from the other side of the world like a curse.
CHAPTER
44
This Is Not Kekon
the twenty-second year, fourth month
Ten months after the clan established its branch office in Shotar, Wen accompanied her sister-in-law on a business trip to Leyolo City. She’d never been there before and was keen to see some of the sights, but more importantly, she had business of her own she wished to deal with in person.
Shae’s husband and daughter saw them off at the airport on the morning of their departure. “Will you bring something back for me?” Tia asked her mother.
“What would you like?” Shae asked.
The seven-year-old considered her options. “A pretty dress!”
“I’ll get you one,” Shae promised. “Aunt Wen will help me to pick it out.”
“I will.” Wen agreed with a smile. She was happy to buy nice clothes for her niece. Her efforts to dress up Jaya had always been rejected, resulting in wasted money or ruined outfits. Tia, in contrast, was a considerate, artistic child who adored animals, sparkly things, dancing, and making up stories. It amused Wen to see that as much as Shae loved her daughter, she also seemed bewildered by her, unsure of how such a dreamy and gentle child had been born into the Kaul family.