Jainan had put a stop to most of his self-destructive behaviors, but not all, and now he felt one of them rising from somewhere deep in him. “How do you expect me to do that?” he asked softly. “It’s you she doesn’t like, Taam.”
There was a moment of silence, as if neither of them could believe he’d said that. Then Taam moved. He grabbed Jainan by the front of his jacket, and Jainan had to fight for balance as the high collar tightened around his neck. “You’re a damned liar!”
“I tried,” Jainan said, though any apology would be too late now. He had to take breaths carefully, around the grip on his throat. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t—I’m not subtle. I’m not good at this.”
“That’s bloody obvious!” Taam said. He bore forward until Jainan felt the back of his legs hit the desk, only just keeping his balance. “What use are you? If you can’t even talk around one old woman, what fucking use are you?” Taam tightened his grip.
Jainan’s jacket collar was suddenly his enemy, cutting off his air. “I—” he said, struggling for coherence. “I—I—I’ll speak to her next time—”
“You’re just looking to undermine me, aren’t you?” Taam said. “You’re always in my bloody accounts, you eavesdrop on my conversations—I think you’re trying to sabotage my operation.”
“What?” Jainan said. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t remember what, not with the pressure on his neck.
“Admit it!” Taam said. He gave Jainan a shake, not much, but enough to punctuate the demand. “You’ll do anything you can to get at me! You’re skimming money from my operation!”
Jainan felt a peculiar rush of anger. You never needed him, a voice in his head said. You hate him. You could get rid of him so easily.
A wave of abhorrence went through him a split second after the anger. That was wrong; he absolutely needed Taam—he was a treaty representative. Something was wrong. “This isn’t real,” he found himself saying, but the minute he’d said the words, he couldn’t remember why he’d said them. He had thrown up a hand in front of his face. “I can’t—Taam, I’m sorry, I can’t remember.”
Taam gave him one last shove and released him. “What fucking use are you,” he said, but it was more of a rhetorical question. He had lost the edge of his rage, as he often did. He backed off a couple of steps and turned away as if he felt the first hints of embarrassment. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Jainan pulled his jacket straight and didn’t rub his throat. It wasn’t real, but what was real? This room, Taam’s fury at Duke Tallie, Jainan’s failure at dinner: those were real. Whatever he had been trying to remember slipped away entirely. He felt himself settling into his surroundings like a wheel in a track it had traveled before. It was almost comfortable.
Taam threw himself down on the sofa. Jainan recognized this mood of grudging regret; he would be easier to deal with tomorrow. “I just wanted someone who could pull their weight,” Taam said. He stared up at the ceiling. Jainan had been monitoring his drinks and he hadn’t even drunk that much, but clearly it had been enough to make him pensive. Jainan felt a stir of pity. He didn’t let it show. “I just wanted someone I liked.”
“I’m sorry,” Jainan said. There was nothing else he could really say. He turned away to make Taam some coffee.
The cup disappeared before he could pick it up. The walls turned gray and started to dissolve, and now the whole room seemed to be fading around him. He felt himself lose a thought that had been very important. He could no longer remember what it was.
CHAPTER 26
“What do you think?” Kiem asked.
Bel craned her neck to survey the shuttle docks. The docks on Carissi Station were a vertical grid of enormous glass tubes, ranging from a few meters across to large enough to hold a freighter. A honeycomb of elevators and stairs ran up and down the space in front of them, filled with people flowing on and off ships from the Transit Module.
A row of docks had been cordoned off for the military behind a semitransparent screen of red light that hid the left-hand row of the grid. There were a couple of obvious routes in, but both went through access gates controlled by troopers.
“You’ll need to get us past the guard,” Bel said. “I can break the protections on any of the small people-carriers, but I need close access.”
“Right,” Kiem said. He would bet this was a control gate like the one outside his mother’s office, which meant it would need the army’s daily passphrase. “Gairad, you’ve been temporarily promoted to aide. Try to look like you’re a huge fan of Iskat.” He led the way toward the nearest access gate, firing up his wristband as he went.
“The Imperial Military is a fine institution,” Gairad said unconvincingly, trailing behind Kiem and Bel. “I love the Empire.”
Kiem’s call on his wristband took some time to connect. “Hey,” he said brightly when it did. “Sergeant Vignar! It’s been a while. Did you catch the race yesterday?” Gairad gave him a sideways incredulous look as they climbed a flight of stairs. Bel was busy watching their surroundings. “No, I was traveling, I’m out in Thean space. You’ll laugh at this—General Tegnar finally set me up with a commission. Strategic comms on Operation Kingfisher. Yeah, Major Saffer hasn’t filled it since he got his promotion … it’s nearly a sure thing, with General Tegnar breathing down his neck, but I still have to do the assessment interview. Only thing, this is really embarrassing, I’ve forgotten the passphrase. My mother’s going to space me—”
He wandered toward the access gate while he listened. After a couple more minutes, he wound it up with, “Thanks, Sergeant,” loud enough to be heard by the trooper on duty. He put both his hands on the table and gave her his best smile. “Hi. Kiem Tegnar and aides. Passphrase Tetra Green One. We have a shuttle booked.”
The electricity under his skin peaked as the trooper looked up. Everything seemed to hang in the balance. Kiem was very aware of the weight of the capper hidden at his waist, and even more of Bel’s artificial stillness beside him.
It broke as the trooper waved them through. For the first time in several years, Kiem found himself wishing his mother was around so he could say thanks. It was an odd feeling.
“Hey, dozy, pay attention,” Gairad muttered. “We’re the smoke screen.”
Kiem gave a start. Bel had levered open the airlock to the launching tube at the end of the line and was leaning over the shuttle inside, attaching something that looked a bit like a suction cup to its door. Kiem had given up being surprised by what Bel had apparently been sitting on in her luggage this whole time. He angled his body so he and Gairad were covering her completely from view.
Bel hissed as the door slid open. “Got it. Let’s go.”
Kiem and Gairad squeezed through the airlock into the tiny shuttle behind her, stumbling as they hit the transition to zero gravity. The interior could have sat six people, but only if those people were very good friends. “Do we need to talk someone into giving us clearance?”