Law of Survival Read Free

beach.
    Jani shivered as the lake breeze brushed her. It was because of what Lucien referred to as her condition, she told herself. It had advanced to the point that she only felt comfortable in heat most people found oppressive. Her discomfort had nothing to do with Niall’s questions. Nothing.
    She trudged after him across the combed sand to a bench set at the edge of the breakwater. As always, he waited for her to sit first before lowering beside her, an unthreatening arm’s length away.
    They sat in silence. Overhead, seagulls swooped and screamed. On the water, Commerce lakeskimmers glided in silent patrol. Niall reached into the inner pocket of his tunic and pulled out a flat silver metal case. He shook out a nicstick through the slotted opening and bit the bulbed end—the ignition tip flared orange as it contacted the air.
    Jani watched him smoke. He didn’t do it often, she had noted, but he did it at very specific times. When he felt particularly agitated or troubled, or as he tried to screw up the courage to talk about what he called their “shared experiences.”
    â€œWhen to the sessions of sweet, silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past.” Niall leaned forward, elbows on knees, and studied the ’stick’s glowing tip. “Shakespeare’s Sonnet 30.” He looked out over the water, his voiceso soft that the gulls threatened to drown him out. “I keep meaning to lend you the sonnets.”
    Jani folded her arms and tucked her hands up her sleeves. Her fingers felt like ice chips. “Tsing Tao Station, four and a half years ago. After a run of janitorial gigs, I managed to scrounge a non-Registry clerk’s job for one of those seat-of-the-pants shipping companies. I don’t even remember the name.”
    Niall exhaled smoke. “Mercury Shipping.”
    Jani watched the side of his face and waited for him to explain how he knew that. When he remained silent, she continued. “A brother-sister outfit. One rebuilt shuttle and a time-share lease on a thirty-year-old transport. Constant repair bills, high turnover, and the low-pay, bottom-feeder jobs that the bigger firms never touch.”
    â€œSounds like the sort of outfit that might turn to a bit of smuggling to meet the payroll.” Niall had wandered the wild side of the Commonwealth before deciding on the Service straight-and-narrow; his voice held the quiet sureness of someone with experience in the subject.
    â€œMost of the time, smuggling was the payroll.” Jani flinched when a gull screamed. “One thing led to another, and we got on the wrong side of a Treasury Customs agent. Not an official investigation—he’d just turn up unexpectedly and ask to see our records. Did that a few times. I figured he was trolling for a payoff, but he never got around to asking.”
    â€œHe never got the chance. About the time he started digging into the inner workings of Mercury Shipping, he noted in his personal log that he began receiving threatening messages. He saved the paper ones.” Niall took a deep pull on his ’stick—the dose ring moved halfway up the shaft. “Two station-days after the date on the last message, his body was found in his flat. Throat had been cut. One station-day after that, you upped and disappeared.”
    â€œI had my reasons, in case you’ve forgotten.” Jani shivered as a bout of chills took hold. “Niall, what’s going on?”
    Niall again reached into his tunic, but instead of his silver box, he removed a folded-over documents slipcase. “I found this waiting for me in my mailbox this morning. After I read it, I figured I’d better pass it along.” He handed her the slipcase, then reached into his tunic and once more pulled out his ’sticks.
    Jani slid aside the closure and removed several pages of weighty, brilliant white Cabinet-grade parchment. “A joint ministry effort,” she said