City of Pearl Read Free Page B

these days. She shut the hatch and loaded her music library into the swiss before flopping onto the bunk the wrong way round so she could stare like an astonished child at the face of Mars.
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    There was a chirp from the swiss. She opened her eyes, closed them again, and then there was an insistent knock at the hatch. “Bugger,” she said. The clock read 2017. She’d slept far too long. When she opened the hatch, there were two men at the threshold. They weren’t company security muscle and they weren’t police, but they slotted into their plain suits like men who had no other existence beyond their jobs, no messy home lives, no other role as daddy or darling or son. If they turned round, she expected to see voids where their backs should have been. “You’re early,” she said. “Are you taking over jurisdiction now?”
    One of the suits—very young, thinning blond hair—glanced over his shoulder; the older man blocked the hatchway. “This is nothing to do with your investigation, Superintendent Frankland,” he said. “Foreign Minister Perault is here to see you.”
    Perault. Eugenie Perault was a politician she had never met, another familiar two-dimensional player from a newscast without a family or a back to her head. Maybe this was a job offer. “I don’t work for the Foreign Office,” Shan said carefully.
    â€œThis is a K ey T ask,” said Blond Suit, somehow adding capitals to his pronunciation.
    â€œAs of next month, I don’t work for anyone anymore. I’m retiring. I’m going home.”
    The two men looked embarrassed. Whatever they were, they weren’t used to debate. “I’m sorry, Superintendent, but when a government minister travels this far to brief you, I really think you should hear her out.”
    Ah, McEvoy and his pranks. A retirement joke. “Oh, okay. Funny. Can I go now?”
    Older Man ignored her politely. “May we show her in?”
    Blond Suit stepped forward; Shan stiffened. He was a few inches shorter, and she was surprised that she had already sized him up for a fight. It had been a long time since she’d had to do that sort of policing. His face was apologetic, bewildered. Something was half hidden in his hand, and it wasn’t a gun. It was a sub-Q drug cartridge.
    â€œThis isn’t a joke, is it?”
    â€œNo, ma’am.” He stepped back and Eugenie Perault appeared beside him as if she regularly dropped in unannounced on space stations.
    â€œMinister,” Shan said. It was funny how the words came. The thoughts weren’t there at all. But she kept her eyes on the sub-Q. “This isn’t what I was expecting.”
    Perault, all clipped gray hair and unnaturally uncreased fatigues, stared up at her. “I never leave a difficult briefing to others.” She looked over her shoulder at the suits, a silent prompt to leave and close the hatch behind them. The two women stood facing each other.
    â€œFrankland, you’re not going to like what I have to say, so I’m saying it as briefly as I can. We need you to…shall we say, supervise a sensitive mission.”
    â€œI’m released from duty next month, ma’am.”
    â€œWe’ve had to override that.”
    â€œYou can’t. I was conscripted, and my conscription has already been renewed for the maximum period. I should have been out ten years ago.”
    â€œI’m really sorry about that. But we can. Emergency powers.”
    â€œOh, terrific. Okay. How long is this going to take?” I want to go home. I need to go home. “A couple of months is—”
    â€œA hundred and fifty years. That’s how long the return journey to Cavanagh’s Star will take.”
    Shan heard the words. But they served only to split her into two parts, one part retrieving information about Cavanagh’s Star and intrigued by the invitation, the other part screaming no,