Vanessa left gold six last, holding her beret in place as the flyer departed in a roar of hyper-fans. She made no attempt to run with the others, but instead walked as steadily as she could in the declining gale, and paused a moment upon the rim of the rooftop pad to observe the scene. Gold two and three roared up and past from their perimeter LZs below, troops jogging quickly along garden paths and up the outer stairways, spreading out to cover all the ground level exits. As she unfocused her vision, she could see a visual outline of the State Department Wing, its security codes acquired only with the authority of the Supreme Court itself, so closely were such access codes guarded these days-in metal vaults unconnected to any network, like bullion or gemstones.
On pathways through lush Parliament grounds gardens, people in suits stopped and stared at the commotion, or stood up from outdoor cafe tables, where some were eating late breakfast, or conducting early business. S-2 Security, a separate branch of government security specialising in State Department and diplomatic matters, conferred bewilderedly in small groups about the perimeter. Further back along the State Department wing, where the building adjoined the main Parliament building, she could see other security personnel-S-3, meaning Parliament Securitystanding and watching with evident concern. On the local network, her visual graphic showed encrypted transmissions spiking dramatically. And she winced processing two visual fields simultaneously did nothing good at all for her headache, and she damped it down accordingly. Beyond the beautiful, arching dome of the Parliament building, several CDF flyers were making their final approach.
She turned and walked about the pad perimeter, headed for the rooftop entrance where her troops had disappeared. A pair of S-2s climbed the stairs and emerged from the glass doorway, staring up at the approaching CDF flyers. Then both looked at her, and her uniform rank.
‘Major,’ said one, with astonished concern. ‘What’s this about?’
‘This is a security lockdown,’ she told them, raising her voice over the approaching howl of engines. ‘By order of Director Ibrahim, all State Department facilities are now under a minimum twenty-fourhour quarantine.’ The younger S-2 looked more than just astonished, as if he hadn’t seen anything quite this exciting in the short time since he’d joined. ‘Cool, huh?’ Vanessa added, and pushed through the doors before the approaching flyers made her headache even worse.
She ignored the lift and took the stairs-carefully-and then entered into a broad, shiny hallway with large portraits on the walls, and photos of the capitals of various Federation worlds.
‘Great,’ she remarked to Private Ijaz, who was standing guard at the bottom of the stairs, ‘no more bright light. Stupid invention anyway, sunlight.’ She removed the sunglasses with painful blinking, and stowed them in a pocket. ‘This’ll be a real tough assignment, Private, guarding a staircase from undersecretaries and speech writers. Think you’re up to it?’
Private Ijaz grinned, his rifle still shouldered, as instructed. ‘Major, can I get you a painkiller or something? Someone’s bound to have one in an office around here …’
‘Kid, I’m pumped so full of painkiller I could have flown here myself.’ A dark figure was approaching down the hall, avoiding confused, milling office personnel with casual ease. ‘You have my permission to hit on passing secretaries, but only if they’re really cute.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Ijaz, with a delighted salute as she turned to leave. Vanessa returned it, and noticed a woman nearby raising an eyebrow … presumably at the ‘sir,’ Vanessa reckoned, but damned if she was going to allow ‘ma’am’ to breed in the CDF, as if an officer’s gender was an issue of the slightest significance for privates to worry about … and she realised that there were quite a few milling suits in the hallway, most of them breaking off their bewildered conversations to stare at her. She ignored them and walked to meet the approaching dark figure halfway.
An reversed direction, slowing his lengthier stride to match hers.
‘Hi, Ari.’
‘Hi, Ricey. You look like shit.’
‘Yeah, well I feel like I’ve been defecated from some orifice or other. How’s Sandy?’
‘She’s fine. Your, um, beret’s not on … quite the right angle.’
‘Oh fuck it, I think either I wasn’t standing up straight, or the mirror was crooked, or the ground was sloping on some strange angle when I put it on …’ An gave one corner a decisive tug as they walked. ‘You’re sure it’s not just my head that’s crooked?’
Ahead, the hall opened into a broad, circular atrium with a domed skylight overhead. There was an important-looking eight-pointed star on the floor, and two soldiers presenting a calm front to a pair of frustrated suits who wanted to use the elevator. Several S-2s stood and watched, halfway between concern and bemusement.
‘You spoke to Krishnaswali?’ Vanessa asked as they entered the atrium and turned left. Corporal Chang gave her a mildly aggrieved look over the heads of the troublesome suits. Vanessa spared an ironic smile, and gave a thumbs up. Chang repressed a smile of his own.
‘Um, yeah, he wiped me off his shoe as he came past,’ Ari said mildly. ‘Didn’t even offer a handkerchief.’ Ari, Vanessa reflected, was even more obtuse than she was. She could definitely see why Sandy liked him so much, whatever the downside of his ideology and profession … and, more to the point, found him so attractive. She shared the sentiment herself … or mostly. Except that somehow, with An, she found herself bantering in a comfort zone that felt much like the now regrettably-rare lunches with cousins Pierre and Margarite-the French side of her family, the side she clicked with. The men she liked to sleep with she preferred big, strong and conveniently silent. No, the only smart, bewildering, intriguing people she generally wanted to sleep with were women …
‘Yeah, well,’ she sighed, ‘you’ll have to excuse him, you’re not catching him on his best day.’
‘Oh right, it’s a weekday, I forgot. He’s pleased you came along?’
‘Oh, ecstatic,’ Vanessa said drily. ‘Your idea?’
‘Why do you always assume that I’m the sole source of your daily misery?’
‘Experience.’
‘Funny, that’s what Sandy says.’
They turned right at the corridor that ran along the building side, sunny windows overlooking lush garden grounds along the left wall, office doors to the right. A pair of larger, more important doors at the far end, guarded by Privates Mohammed (that was Mohammed number four, on Vanessa’s mental list-the one whose mother was a concert-level tabla player) and Kravchenko. Both saluted as she approached.
‘Oh, knock off the salutes, guys,’ Vanessa told them as she returned it, ‘it’s too much effort.’
‘But the General’s inside and he’d kill us, Major,’ Kravchenko replied, keeping her face straight with difficulty. Inside, a waiting room was lined with pictures of important people around the walls. A frustrated-looking secretary sat in his chair by the next main door, terminal headset hung upon the dead monitor-in total lockdown, nothing worked.
‘What?’ Vanessa asked indignantly as she caught Ari giving her one of his very curious, sideways looks. They paused before the main doors to Secretary Grey’s office.
‘Sandy says how popular you are with your guys,’ said An. ‘I think I can see why.’
Vanessa made a face. ‘They don’t love me on the training track, I’ll tell you that.’
She pushed the doors open, and they stepped into a broad room with an oval meeting table, surrounded by chairs. Before the broad windows, Secretary of State Grey and General Krishnaswali were exchanging pleasantries … unpleasantly, Vanessa noted with little surprise. She stopped behind a chair, both hands upon its back to stop the room from spinning. Damn Ibrahim. Why couldn’t he have let her stay in bed?
Secretary Grey’s head snapped across to stare at them as they entered. Krishnaswali stood poker-straight before him, immaculate in his dark green uniform. Like Vanessa, he wore only a sidearm at the hip. Unlike Vanessa, his uniform collar and shoulders were decorated with the additional gold pins of rank.
‘Oh, wonderful,’ Secretary Grey snarled upon sighting An, ‘Director Ibrahim’s personal attack dog. At least now I have no illusions about what this whole thing’s about. You tell the Director that he’d damn well better get used to having his authority challenged, and just because he resorts to these kinds of dictatorial pressure tactics, I’m fucked if I’m about to stop it just for him!’
‘Well …’ An raised his eyebrows in mild bewilderment, and scratched at his thick hair. Vanessa thought she must have worn much the same expression last Christmas, when her six-year-old nephew Yves had accused her of treachery for misleading him all those years about Santa Claus. In her light headed state, she found herself suddenly struggling to repress a grin. ‘If you feel that way, Mr. Secretary,’ Ari continued, ‘maybe you’d better tell him yourself.’
Not surprisingly, Grey seemed infuriated by An’s manner. He was a tall man, with a curiously unformed face that seemed to lack either sharp edges or soft curves. His eyes were dark and deep, almost puppyish, and his ears stood out sharply from beneath dark, wavy hair. A devotee of the Union Party’s conservative left wing, he’d long been regarded by many as the weakest link in President Neiland’s Administration … but political logic meant she couldn’t ditch him without a leftist revolt. Vanessa hated political logic. And recalled Sandy’s favourite Tanushan comic/commentator, Rami Rahim, saying in a recent spiel how he’d gone to have lunch with Secretary Benjamin Grey, and ‘then an empty limousine pulled up, and Secretary Grey got out.’
‘I’ve had it,’ Grey exclaimed, with the air of a man who’d reached his limit. He strode forward several steps to confront Ari directly. Ari’s gaze was distinctly dubious. ‘I’m all out of being polite with you people. The CDF and CSA are supposed to be assets of the State Department, and I get nothing from you but obstruction and suspicion. Especially from you … Jesus Christ, what the hell was Ibrahim thinking even admitting the likes of you into the CSA? Let alone making you his personal right hand … you’ve planned this all along, haven’t you? Concocted some evidence to give Ibrahim an excuse to crack down on the one department in this entire Administration whose services Callay can least afford to be without at this moment!’
‘Well, then,’ An said offhandedly, ‘maybe if you’d kept better tabs on the activities of your people, you wouldn’t have let, um, junior Assistant Director Samarang source a bunch of illegal weaponry through customs using official authorisations.’ Grey stared, blinking rapidly. ‘He’s in custody now,’ An explained. ‘He confessed to the shipments but claims he didn’t know they’d be used to assault the summit.
‘Now. . .’ he raised a finger, ‘… maybe it’s just me, but I think it’s, um, rather curious that Samarang’s assistant, Enrico Kalaji, tried to disappear yesterday when I paid him a visit … ran real fast down the corridor and jumped from a low balcony, actually. And it’s a shame that I lost him, because it would have been, um, pretty interesting to hear him explain exactly who in the State Department gave him the order to bug All Sudasarno’s cruiser, and how it was that the crazed GI who killed Admiral Duong somehow had access to that bug, and used it to find Commander Kresnov … who, incidentally, was trying to hide from exactly that GI. And those she suspected were helping her.’
Secretary Grey just stared at him, blankly. Ari looked more closely, as if peering through a window to check if the lights were on inside.
‘I could go over it more slowly if you didn’t follow,’ he offered.
‘The bottom line, Mr. Secretary,’ Krishnaswali cut in sombrely, ‘is that we need to comprehensively search the entire State Department database so that we can trace the leads, and hopefully find out if this GI is receiving inside help. Agent Chandaram will be here shortly, he can explain the procedures to you better than I can. But it’s imperative that we have your utmost cooperation on this matter. Will you give it?’
Sandy leaped from the flyer’s rear ramp the moment the landing gear touched the pads, and jogged quickly across the wet pad with a borrowed raincoat held above her head, boots splashing on rapidly accumulating puddles in the downpour. The raincoat also had the benefit of blocking all possible view from the snooping super-lense imagers the media liked to use around an action scene-it would be better for all concerned, she knew, if the fewest necessary people knew she was here. Inside the rooftop doors, she took a moment to shake off the raincoat, and hand it to Private Ijaz, as the other two CDF soldiers she’d shared the ride with did the same. Ijaz added them to his pile beside the rain-streaked glass doors, to be dispensed among the next departing group.
‘This one came in damn fast, huh?’ Sandy commented, shades pocketed as she gazed out at the sheeting rain across the Parliament complex. Beyond the majestic central dome, lightning forked and slashed across the black sky.
‘Sure did, sir,’ said Ijaz, who was plainly far more interested to see her than the newly arrived storm. ‘And it’s barely even midday, usually in summer they don’t arrive until at least midafternoon.’
‘Yeah, well, everything’s been pretty crazy lately. Why should the weather be different?’ She brushed off her jacket and pants, and tried on her shades once more. ‘What d’you think? On or off?’
‘Don’t know who you’d be fooling in this building, Commander.’
Sandy considered that, then nodded agreement and tucked the sunglasses into a pocket. ‘True enough. Much traffic inside? I still can’t use uplinks.’
‘The President’s here,’ Ijaz offered. ‘I’m not sure where though … somewhere on the north side, I think, she wasn’t allowed full access and wasn’t very pleased about it.’
‘I’ll find her,’ said Sandy. ‘I’ll just follow the loudest screams.’
Ijaz grinned. And said, as she made to descend the stairs, ‘Commander, it’s real good to see you again.’
Which pleased her enormously. ‘It’s real good to see you too, Private.’ And departed before she could succumb to the temptation for sexual innuendo that even in the CDF, she wasn’t supposed to make with enlisted personnel …
She strode along the broad lower hall, brushing at rain-wet hair and noting that most offices were empty as she passed … probably most State Department staff had gathered elsewhere to pass the time. At the circular atrium, Corporal Chang directed her northward, and found a spare headset so that she could listen in to operational chatter. She continued on, past busy CSA agents in suits who mostly didn’t notice her identity as they exchanged notes and compared comp-slate codes and building schematics as they swept the entire State Department wing, floor by floor, room by room.
She found Vanessa in an open, north side meeting room that looked more like an exclusive VIP’s club than anything else-a series of booth-style tables and comfortable leather bench seats, all of decoratively carved wood with trimmings and wall paintings that looked distinctly South Asian and Arabic by inspiration. The tall north wall windows overlooked green lawns and gardens. Vanessa stood before the glass-walled booths on the east side, firmly confronting a very important looking suit who loomed over her in evident displeasure.
‘… I’m afraid you’re going to have to call and say you’ll be late,’ Vanessa was telling him as Sandy approached.
‘I am not making a call that gets filtered through your monitoring system,’ the man insisted loudly. Sandy recognised the face-the Foreign Minister of Arkasoy, no less, several hundred light years from home and not at all happy that his schedule had been interrupted. ‘My world’s security will not allow me to make any official transmission through the filtering software of any foreign security agency.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr. Atkins, but a lockdown is a lockdown. I believe we’ll be finished in a few hours, maybe less.’
‘I’m not a part of your damned security crisis,’ Foreign Minister Atkins snapped. Vanessa had to tilt her head well back to look him in the eye, coming barely up to his armpit as she did. ‘I’m a visiting foreign dignitary on official business with a diplomatic visa, I’ve nothing to do with your internal security matters!’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Vanessa said flatly, ‘but if you’re in this building, you do.’ Atkins’ own security agents were waiting patiently nearby, seeming quite unsurprised at Vanessa’s stubbornness. Doubtless they’d explained it to their VIP several times. Equally doubtless their VIP hadn’t cared to listen. Sandy waited between table booths, casting a glance around. She recognised several more important faces amongst bored, frustrated guests, plus personal security and various assistants. Waiters in spotless white tunics hurried to and from the kitchen, bringing drinks and snacks, valiantly attempting to keep irritated guests from exploding by placating them with sustenance. Through the old-fashioned blinds across the windowed booth behind Vanessa, Sandy saw President Neiland herself, seated at a table, chin glumly on fist as Agent Chandaram from Investigations attempted to explain the situation to her. Nearby, several dark-suited Alpha Team agents kept careful watch over the proceedings.
God help them if there was a security emergency here, Sandy thought. So many overlapping security operatives, it would be a wonder if they didn’t all kill each other in the crossfire.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Vanessa answered Minister Atkins’ latest complaint, ‘but Callayan security procedures take precedence on Callay. There’s nothing I can do.’
Atkins swore beneath his breath, and swung about to storm back to his booth seat. And paused, frowning hard at Sandy, with evident recognition. And swung back around to stare at Vanessa, as if wondering if she’d seen. As if thinking a dangerous escapee was about to be arrested. Sandy wondered who he’d been talking to.
Vanessa met Sandy’s gaze, and smiled, tiredly. ‘Hey-ya.’ Sandy smiled back, walked up and gave her friend a warm hug, because who really gave a flying fuck about all the people watching, anyway?
Vanessa returned it. ‘You know,’ she said against Sandy’s shoulder, ‘I could get used to you as a brunette. In fact, I’ve been kinda wondering if I should go blonde myself. . .’
‘No, no, no,’ Sandy said adamantly. ‘It’s not you.’
‘Says your personal committee of one.’
‘So I’m getting conservative in my old age. Come, sit.’ She took Vanessa’s arm, and guided her gently to the nearest booth, pointing to Lieutenant Sharma to take charge of any future VIP tantrums. Sharma nodded an acknowledgement with a smile, and Vanessa took a seat gratefully, Sandy sliding in beside her with most of the room’s eyes fixed firmly upon the backs of their heads.
‘How’s the head?’ Sandy murmured, leaning close so that the many pairs of enhanced eardrums behind them would be most unlikely to hear.
‘S’fine,’ Vanessa murmured back. ‘This latest generation of neuro- peps are just wonderful … you know, they respond to enhanced brainwave activity? The more you think, the better you feel. It’s actually good to be active, ’cause I don’t feel so bad, now.’
She sounded, Sandy reckoned, slightly dreamy. Which struck her as funny, somehow, and she resisted the temptation to hug her again. It was just so nice to see her and to have her to talk to once more.
Vanessa frowned slightly, gazing at her from barely a hand’s breadth away. ‘What about you? That damn GI could have had you, from what I heard.’
‘Worse-Sudasarno and an elevator full of civilians.’ She sighed, and hung her head. Vanessa’s frown grew deeper.
‘Bothered you, did she?’ she asked. Vanessa’s ability to read her emotions always amazed her. It was a totally different relationship from hers with Ari. Ari always seemed surprised and amazed at her thoughts, an amazement tinged with fascination. Vanessa was rarely amazed. She empathised.
‘I don’t know,’ Sandy murmured. And shook her head, faintly. ‘I’d always thought complexity led to intelligence. I mean, that’s why humans are humans and bunbuns are bunbuns.’
‘You leave Jean-Pierre alone.’
Sandy smiled. ‘But logically-our brains are more complex, thus we have morality, right? I mean, morality is a higher intellectual function, surely-that’s why the old fear of a humanity overrun and enslaved by machine intelligence hasn’t happened, right? Humans have created machines significantly smarter than themselves …’
‘If you do say so yourself,’ Vanessa interjected.
‘… but humans haven’t been enslaved,’ Sandy continued, ‘because the intellect required to do the enslaving also entails a sufficiently advanced consciousness to be subject to moral doubts and questions. And enslaving humans is unconscionable.’
Vanessa made a face. ‘Sandy … I’ve been a corporate number cruncher, and I’ve been a head-kicking grunt. Neither profession is exactly philosophical, my tiny little mind is way beneath this at the moment …
‘I’m saying that I’d always thought GIs were capable of more,’ Sandy explained, her gaze earnest. Vanessa looked tired. But she tried, if just to please her. ‘I’d always insisted that even the lower-des GIs could be so much more than just soldiers if they tried. If they were given the opportunity, and a reason to care. I mean, look at Rhian- just two years here and suddenly she’s become all chic and sophisticated. Just the other day she was telling me she wanted to adopt a child someday …’
‘Really?’ Vanessa perked up immediately. And smiled, picturing that. ‘Wow. That’s fantastic, what did you tell her?’
‘Vanessa, please, I need you to listen to this. I want to know if I’m nuts or what.’ Vanessa sighed, and raised a conciliatory hand. ‘So more complexity means more morality, right? And, I mean, the thing that makes me really different from Rhian is the brain structure, on a neurological level … I don’t understand most of it, I’m not a technician. There’re people who speculate that the technology is so fucking advanced it probably isn’t even hurrah …’
‘Talee?’ Vanessa questioned. The Talee were a question that always got Vanessa’s attention. And a lot of other people.
‘Sure,’ said Sandy. It was common enough speculation that the Talee had provided League scientists with the first synthetic neurology tech. Yet another reason for Federation citizens to be terrified of the possible directions the League might take the human species inwithout the majority, Federation consent. ‘But mine’s different even from Rhian’s. More advanced … I don’t know how, it just is. More complicated pathways, able to process more information simultaneously without going crazy like Ari says would happen to any straight who tried to download uplinks at my speeds. Segmented consciousness. Rhian sees everything simultaneously. I compartmentalise.’
‘It’s a wonder you’re not schizophrenic,’ Vanessa remarked, with more concern than fascination.
‘And now this GI. Jane.’
‘She calls herself Jane?’
‘Maybe the FIA gave her the name …’ Sandy shrugged, ‘. . . I don’t know. But she’s smart. To have done what she’s done so far … real fucking smart. And I met her, Ricey. I spoke with her, face to face. I looked her in the eyes, and I saw just … nothing.’
Now Vanessa was really paying attention. Sandy thought she looked a little spooked. ‘Nothing at all?’ she said.
‘She reacts,’ Sandy explained. ‘She smiles a little, now and then. And I think I made her a little angry, telling her she didn’t know shit.’
‘Well, there, surely that’s something?’
Sandy shook her head. ‘It was almost like a mechanical response. Or not mechanical, as such, just …’ and she took a deep breath, trying to find the words. ‘Facial expressions are like symptoms, right? Symptoms of an underlying cause.’
‘Emotions.’
‘Well yeah … but emotions are structured within a broader psychology.’ She shook her head. ‘Damn, I never had much use for psychs, but I could use one now.’
‘They exist within a context,’ Vanessa ventured calmly. ‘The context of that person’s personality.’
‘Yes. Exactly. This Jane … the emotions might be there, and the facial muscles might move, but the context … the broader personality … I don’t know.’ She searched Vanessa’s face for understanding. ‘I didn’t feel anything. Does that make sense?’
‘Sure. One morning two years ago, I rolled over in bed and looked at Sav. Same feeling.’
‘No way. Sav was a confident, exuberant, funny guy who also happened to be an egocentric arsehole. Hell, he had enough going for him to make you want to marry him …’
‘Yeah,’ Vanessa muttered, ‘big fucking recommendation.’
‘But you felt something, for good or bad.’
Vanessa put her right elbow up on the seat back, and leaned her head against that hand for support. Fixed Sandy with a slightly glazed look, head tilted, one quizzical eyebrow raised in question. A waiter deposited drinks at a nearby table booth with a clink of glasses. Vanessa waited until he had passed out of earshot before resuming in a low voice, weary yet focused.
‘Sandy, I used to be a suit myself, for one brief, bleak, lonely period in my life. I know a bit about the interstellar corporate bigwig circuit. I checked up on Takawashi, lying in my hospital bed in my awful polka dot pyjamas. These functions he’s attending every second night just amazing. Every big name from the top end of town is there … of course, in Tanusha, it takes a few weeks to fit them all in, but still. Even some Progress Party reps.’
‘Federation biotech hasn’t seen anything like what his technology can do,’ Sandy replied cautiously. ‘If there were some relaxation in trade, in a few areas, the money to be made here is enormous.’
‘In this political climate? The last thing Neiland needs is more speculation that she’s dragging the Federation toward League progressivism.’ Sandy nodded, biting her lip. That bit didn’t make sense. ‘Mostly the media’s been too busy with explosions and gunfire to notice much, but there were a few stories. The Administration immediately released a statement saying that Takawashi was on Callay on a `personal visit,’ and had not been invited. And the Neiland Administration continued to oppose any and all attempts to relax controls on all advanced biotech … blah, blah, blah.
‘But I checked further, and here’s the thing. He was invited. The State Department has an invitation on record.’ Sandy frowned at her. ‘That’s how he got the diplomatic visa. But no one I talked to seemed to know who exactly made the invitation. Or they wouldn’t tell me. This is a very wealthy, very powerful man, Sandy. He doesn’t take a month out of his busy schedule for no good reason. And he just happens to be here at the same time as our friend Jane runs amok … with help from the State Department.’
‘Damn,’ Sandy murmured. ‘You think Takawashi has some kind of personal interest in Jane?’
‘And in you. He’s responsible for much of what you are, right? So he’s also responsible for much of what Jane is. Only he says this theft took place several years ago, very conveniently about the same time the FIA grabbed you here, and about the same time as the old League administration was getting real nervous that they were losing the war, and what would happen when people found out how far beyond the legal limits they’d gone in creating advanced GIs, and taking steps to get rid of the evidence.’
Sandy blinked at her, as that possibility unfolded with a rush. ‘Oh, shit.’
Vanessa nodded, with that same weary purpose. ‘I bet you Jane wasn’t stolen. I bet she was offloaded to the highest bidder. Or maybe even for free. I mean, Takawashi loves his GIs far more than he loves the League, right? Especially the military.’
‘He’d do it just to spite them,’ Sandy muttered. ‘And he’d tell them the evidence is destroyed. And Jane gets sent to the FIA. Who operate in such a total information blackout that they can do all kinds of illegal stuff with her that they can make her into whatever they want.’
‘So the question is,’ Vanessa continued, ‘why the big deal about Jane? Takawashi’s a neurol … a neurologist.’ Managing to bite out the word through uncooperative lips. ‘I mean, what makes her special? She’s gotta be different from you, or he’d have just dumped her. Maybe he’d been working on something special with her, something he didn’t want to see destroyed.’
Sandy gave no response. Vanessa waited for a moment. Then lifted the supporting hand from her face, and poked Sandy in the arm. Sandy’s distant gaze shifted onto her friend.
‘I was a failure,’ she murmured. ‘I was a great success while I lasted, but a long-term failure. Loyalty was a part of the test parameter. I failed.’
‘And a wonderful, glorious failure it was too.’
‘Jane won’t fail. She might die, but she won’t fail. She won’t defect. That’s why she’s so smart at such an early age. That’s what Takawashi was working on.’
‘What was?’ said Vanessa, struggling for focus.
‘A loyal GI. One whose personality could be predetermined. One who wouldn’t slowly evolve over seventeen years. Who wouldn’t change her mind. All the combat effectiveness of a Cassandra Kresnov, without the downside risk.’ She stared away at a far wall, beyond the booths and patrons’ heads. ‘I didn’t want to believe that was possible.’
‘It might not be,’ Vanessa replied. ‘Jane’s still young.’
‘If I get my way, she’s not going to get much older.’
Vanessa half shrugged. ‘Them’s the breaks, I guess.’
Within the office behind the glass opposite their booth, Sandy saw that Neiland was staring at the pair of them, darkly. There was an indication to an aide, then, and the aide opened the door. Pointed two fingers at Sandy and Vanessa, then pointed ‘inside.’ Sandy sighed.
‘Now the fun starts,’ she murmured, sliding out of the booth seat, and waiting to give Vanessa a hand in case her head started spinning again. ‘Where’s Ari?’ she thought to ask as Vanessa carefully stood up.
‘I sent him away,’ Vanessa said drily. ‘Before he started a fight he wasn’t going to win.’ With Neiland, Vanessa meant. The President, and Commander-in-Chief of CDF and CSA. Ari’s ultimate boss. Not that that would stop An, once paranoid certainty had set in.
‘Good move,’ Sandy murmured, and they walked together to the door.
The President sat on the far side of the room’s table, gazing at the inbuilt display screen and chewing at the inside of her lip. To one side sat Agent Chandaram, to the other, All Sudasarno. The aide who’d opened the door, Sandy didn’t recognise. Sandy and Vanessa took old fashioned, leather seats with their backs to the glass … Sudasarno pressed a button on his table console, and the glass polarised to deep black. Neiland gazed at them both, and then at Sandy in particular, with hard green eyes. She wore her red hair loose today, in counterpoint to a pink blouse beneath the dark, formal suit. Somehow, it didn’t soften her expression much at all.
‘Your timing stinks,’ she said flatly, looking straight at Sandy. ‘I need the State Department, Commander. I need credibility. I need Callay to look like a world that can handle the task of hosting the Grand Council in a year’s time. Right now, we’re a laughing stock. If all our newfound allies among friendly Federation worlds pack up and go home, and strike their own separate deals with Earth and the Fleet, no one will be less surprised than I.’
‘It’s not us, Ms. President,’ said Sandy. ‘We’ve been interfered with again-as long as Earth remains the central power in the Federation, they’ll retain the means to infiltrate our security and organisations, and screw us any time they like. If anything, it strengthens your arguments, and it gives Federation worlds even more reason to be scared of Earth-centralised power and the Fleet.’
‘Commander.’ Neiland leaned forward, elbows on the table. Her green eyes flashed. ‘Perhaps you didn’t notice, but we’re under blockade. When news reaches Earth of the reasons why, they’ll think it’s justified. Their admiral was assassinated, on an official visit, with us providing the security-apparently by a pro-Callayan extremist group. You tell me a rogue GI did it, but there’s no proof … except for Major Rice’s combat records from the scene, which provide far too much sensitive material about CDF operations to unfriendly interests than we can afford, and that are so complicated no major news organisation would understand it even if we did release it.
‘And now you’re trying to find proof, and you’ve shut down the State Department to do it … damn it, Cassandra, what kind of victory will it be for Callayan competence if our own State Department turns out to be the source of our problems? I mean, this …’ and she waved a hand at the display screen, ‘. . . all this stuff Agent Chandaram’s been showing me, all these infiltration codes and suspicious mail transfers, this isn’t evidence! This is a pile of naughts and zeros! Earth factions believe Callay is spiralling into out-of-control sedition and rebellion, and are determined to retain control over the Fleet to protect themselves from the chaotic horror that the Federation will surely become with us at the centre of it, and this bunch of technical rubbish is your only answer? I need clear, unassailable evidence! Nothing else is going to get it done!’
The President, Sandy noted, was fairly angry. About as angry, in fact, as she’d ever seen her. Sandy took a deep breath.
‘Have you been talking with Captain Reichardt?’ she asked. Neiland stared at her, incredulously.
‘That’s your answer? I’m talking about losing the one thing we’ve been fighting for these last years-losing the new Grand Council’s sovereign and total control of the Fleet-and you want to start a fucking war?! ‘
‘Ma’am,’ said Sandy, with great deliberation, ‘I can get you those stations back.’ Neiland’s green eyes locked with her own, pale blue ones. For a moment, no one in the room appeared to breathe. ‘But I’ll need Reichardt. It can’t be done without him.’
Neiland broke eye contact first, looking aside at the flat, smooth wood of the table. Closed her eyes, briefly, and massaged her head with one hand. ‘So you get the stations,’ she said. ‘What then? What’s to stop Captain Rusdihardjo from backing off and blasting the whole facility?’
‘War crimes,’ Sandy said simply. ‘It didn’t even happen in the war, much. Combatants are supposed to take and hold civilian stations, not destroy them. To do it in peacetime, against an ally, would destroy their credibility.’
‘That’s a hell of a gamble,’ Neiland said sombrely. ‘You say it didn’t happen much … I recall that about half of the war’s casualties were civilians living or working on orbital or deep space facilities. So it happened a lot, didn’t it?’
‘Depends how you measure it,’ Sandy said calmly. ‘Lots of desperate situations in the war.’
‘Damn it, Cassandra, you think this isn’t desperate?’
Sandy waited until she was sure the President was calm enough to offer her full attention. Then, ‘It’s your choice, Ms. President. I can get you the stations. If it happens with Reichardt’s help, it can’t be called sedition, and they can’t just blame it all on us. Then it’s up to them how hard they want to push back. Either way, we’ve only acted in selfdefence. And we’ll look strong in doing so. Strength with which to reassure our nervous friends.’
Neiland stared at her for a moment longer. Then the stare flicked to Vanessa. ‘You’ve seen Cassandra’s plans, Major?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Vanessa.
‘What do you think?’
‘It’ll work,’ said Vanessa.
The President scowled. ‘You’ve never done off-world ops before.’
‘Then why ask me?’ Vanessa replied with a smile. Another world leader, full of power and not knowing Vanessa, might have exploded at the scandalous informality. Neiland only looked exasperated.
‘You’re no help,’ she said.
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
They’d barely stepped outside the office when Sandy and Vanessa were confronted by a young man in an awkwardly ill-fitting suit. He seemed barely able to contain his excitement.
‘Sandy, I’ve found … oh, I mean Commander Kresnov, I’ve … I’ve found it! I’ve found the parallel subsystem matrix that … that …’
‘Agent Yoong,’ Sandy said patiently, ‘why don’t you take a deep breath, and come with me out into the hall.’
Yoong looked a little flustered. ‘Yes, ma’am … I mean, Commander.’ Sandy put an unhurried hand on his back, guiding him toward the doors and away from curious eyes. And studiously ignored Vanessa’s silent mirth as they went. Vanessa found the breathless young men of Intel just hysterical where Sandy was concerned, and teased her about it often.
‘Now,’ said Sandy as they reached a relatively deserted stretch of hallway, ‘what have you found?’
‘Ma’am … I mean Commander …’ Yoong paused, and took a deep breath. ‘I think it’d just be simpler if you uplinked to the network and let me show you.’
‘I can’t uplink to anything right now,’ Sandy said patiently, ‘there’s bad people with mysterious access to my whereabouts who have a certain code that could kill me.’
‘Yes, I know, ma … Commander, that’s what I’m saying! I’ve found it, I’ve found the sleeper system someone put on the State Department network that locked into CSA and CDF systems and let them trace your location!’
‘Show me,’ Sandy demanded.
Yoong blinked at her. ‘Well, if you’d just uplink. . . ‘
‘On your comp-slate.’ She pointed to the little unit in Yoong’s suit pocket. Yoong blinked at that too, as if only just remembering he had it.
‘Oh … right, of course.’ He took it out, flipped it open and began rapidly downloading material from a personal database. ‘Here, you see, Commander, this is a triple slash version of the vega series of trace rerouters …
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ said Sandy, snatching the slate from his hands. The 3-D graphical sequence on the screen looked familiar, she recog nised the shapes and formations with that portion of her brain that registered facial or speech recognition-reflexively and without quite knowing how-but that didn’t mean she knew all the Feddie- Tanushan techie jargon they liked to throw around at Intel. Just because she knew what it was didn’t mean she always knew what it was called … and she scrawled rapidly through multiple facets and angleshifts upon the screen with a tracing forefinger, frowning as she tried to figure exactly what it did on a network the size and scale of the State Department’s. ‘You found this where?’
‘It was a subfile of a worker named, um …’ and he snapped his fingers, trying to remember. And Sandy’s multitrack brain somehow found time to marvel at how such a genius with codes and numbers could still have difficulty recalling simple names. People’s brains stored information in funny ways. ‘Damn it, I was just looking in his file ..
‘Kalaji?’ Vanessa suggested. Yoong stared at her, eyes brightening.
‘Yes! Kalaji … Enrico Kalaji!’
Sandy frowned at Vanessa. ‘One of Ari’s geese?’ she asked.
‘One of Junior Assistant Director Samarang’s,’ Vanessa agreed. ‘Or so he said.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Yoong, ‘he’s one of Samarang’s closest …’ and he frowned at Sandy. ‘Ari’s geese?’
‘For his wild goose chases,’ Sandy explained, scrawling rapidly through the screen graphics. ‘Damn, I can’t make this out, it’s been too long since I actually looked at any code. Anyone have a cord?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Yoong, fumbling in a suit pocket. ‘Um … just … right here.’ He pulled out the connector lead. Sandy took it, slotted one end into the comp-slate and the other into the slim insert socket beneath the hair at the back of her skull. The data-wall didn’t hit very hard, with just the little comp-slate. In no time she’d found the file and opened the program … it unfurled before her in multilevel complexity, but nothing as advanced or complicated as the League-level tac-nets and security formulations she was familiar with. Here was the branch that connected to CDF central, and from there the links into main schedules and protocols, and over there the bypass subroutine that allowed what was supposed to be secure, encrypted information to be passed on to a third party along undesignated channels on the outside …
Samarang worked for Secretary Grey. He’d been ordered to track her, including having her and An’s vehicles bugged … damn good work if you could bug anything Ari operated. But then, she recalled, the cruiser was on loan at short notice. Very sloppy, Ari. Kalaji was in direct control of the surveillance, and was apparently feeding it to friendly Ms. Jane. Why … well, if she found him, she’d ask him. She only hoped she found him before Jane did … as no doubt did CSA Investigations, who were becoming very sick of cleaning up Jane’s mess after her.
But now, the monitoring software was secured, the leak in the State Department closed down, and no one was going to know with any degree of reliability where she was at any given moment. Jane still had codes that could trigger the killswitch, but wouldn’t know where to search on the network at any given time to use them, making any remote attack attempt akin to the proverbial needle in the haystack, on a network the scale of Tanusha’s. Caution was still required. But suddenly, she could use her uplinks again.
Sandy disconnected the cord from the insert, grabbed the startled Agent Yoong by the suit lapels, and planted a firm kiss on his lips.
‘Thank you!’ she told him delightedly, handed him back the compslate, grabbed Vanessa by the arm and hauled her briskly down the hallway. The astonished young agent stood in her wake, clutching his comp-slate, his light brown skin slowly turning a bright shade of pink.
‘And you complained before Ari you couldn’t find a man,’ Vanessa remarked scornfully as Sandy remembered the state of her head, and walked more slowly. ‘Intel’s just teeming with all these nice, wellgroomed boys …’
‘Child abuse,’ Sandy retorted.
‘He’s at least thirty!’
‘Still child abuse. I wanted a lover, not a pet. Vanessa, I need you to set things up. Can you do that?’
For a moment, there was no reply. ‘What’s the time frame?’ Vanessa said sombrely, after that moment had passed.
‘Two rotations minimum.’
Vanessa made a short, hissing sound through her teeth. ‘Sandy … the President’s right, you know. I haven’t done orbital cps before.’
‘I have. I know what it takes. You’ll be fine, I promise.’
‘Why ask me anyway?’ Vanessa asked with mounting exasperation. ‘Why not Krishnaswali? He’s in charge, it’s going to be his decision anyway.’
‘Because he’s the administrative, political and strategic commander, and he knows it,’ Sandy replied, taking a left, headed for the main flyer pad. ‘He was the safe political choice, not the practical operational one. Why do you think Ibrahim insisted you come along?’
‘Sandy, I …’ Vanessa took a deep breath, ‘. . . I can’t do this. I can’t be constantly fighting with my superior! It’s not how units are supposed to operate! Damn it, I even felt sorry for him this morning, having to tell him I’d been ordered along against his wishes … he knows he’s not in full operational command and I just don’t know how long he’s prepared to tolerate that!’
‘He’s never made any secret of his political connections, that’s the way he’s chosen to operate. They happened to include Secretary Grey … I mean hell, Ricey, I’m not even sure how much to trust him in light of all this. Ibrahim evidently felt the same.’
‘Well, that’s just fucking great,’ Vanessa retorted in rising temper, ‘Ibrahim needs a proxy, you go running off on one of Ari’s goose chases, and I get left holding the detonator! You know, you always leave me stuck with this kind of shit, and I get sick of it!’
Sandy stared at her, incredulously. ‘Always?’
‘Always!’ Vanessa glared angrily at a passing Intel. The Intel looked hurriedly elsewhere, and quickened her pace.
‘Name another time.’
‘I’m not making a fucking list, okay?! I feel like shit, I don’t want to do this now!’
Sandy stared ahead down the hall, her jaw hardening. Vanessa fumed. A restroom door approached on their left. In a moment of firm resolve, Sandy made up her mind, grabbed Vanessa by the arm, and hauled her toward the door. Vanessa protested, but Sandy’s grip was steely tight. The ladies room was a sparkling, tiled and gold-fixtures affair with broad mirrors and soft, inset lighting. And empty, Sandy discovered with a quick check beneath the stall doors as she released Vanessa’s arm-there were very few people left on this level save CSA and CDF personnel. She turned back to Vanessa, who stood in the centre of the tiled floor and stared at her with no small displeasure.
‘Vanessa.’ Firmly, folding her arms at two metres’ distance, so she could take in all her body language at a glance. For this one, she felt she might require every clue she could get. ‘You’ve been snapping at me for the last few months. I want to know why.’
‘Snapping?’ Incredulously. ‘What, you think you’re so infallible, and I’m so even-tempered, that me snapping warrants some kind of emergency? You bruised my arm, damn it!’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Sandy, attempting an even tone. A part of her was damn worried. Frightened, even. Vanessa was the best friend she’d ever had. Doing anything that might jeopardise that friendship was scary on a level that bullets and grenades had never truly reached. That part of her wanted to beg, to plead, to placate or admit to any perceived wrongdoing, just to make things right again. But somehow, with Vanessa, she didn’t think that was going to do it.
‘I didn’t want to say anything before,’ she continued, ‘because you know I worry that sometimes I don’t understand. I thought I might have misinterpreted … but then Ari remarked on it himself …’ Vanessa opened her mouth to interrupt, but Sandy overrode her, ‘… and there’s just so much going on, Vanessa, I can’t afford to have this hanging over us when things really get serious.’
‘You can’t afford?’ with raised-brows irony. ‘Oh, that’s nice to know, I’m pleased you’ve got our relationship into the right operational perspective.’
For the first time, Sandy felt her cool slipping. ‘Damn it, Ricey …’ She looked aside, running a frustrated hand through her hair. ‘Okay, I used the wrong word! I said `afford,’ as if it were an operational matter, when it’s supposed to be emotional … I do that! It’s my upbringing, it’s my nature, call it what you will-sometimes I say the wrong fucking thing, and I’d expected better understanding from you than to jump on my head! You know what I meant!’
Vanessa put hands on her hips, and looked down. Scuffed at the spotless tiles with a heavy boot. ‘Look, what do you want me to say?’
‘I don’t want you to say anything. I want to know why you’ve been getting pissed at me.’ She couldn’t help the pleading, imploring note from creeping into her voice. ‘I mean, I do the wrong thing sometimes. I know I do. If I do something wrong, or if I upset you somehow, I want you to tell me about it. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Vanessa, and I …’
‘Look, I …’ Vanessa raised both hands, in extreme frustration, ‘… I can’t tell you now! It’s not a good time! In fact, it’s the worst possible fucking time I can think of.’
‘I can’t deal with this here, and that out there, at the same time! I’m not good at this kind of thing, I don’t want to have to try because I don’t know how I’ll respond! Now you’re not leaving this bathroom until you tell me!’
Vanessa put a hand to her forehead and massaged, as if the pain had become abruptly worse. ‘Oh God,’ she muttered, ‘and I’m full of drugs too … no, look …’ as she came to a decision, ‘. . . I can’t do this now, Sandy, or I’ll say something that’ll really fuck things up properly.’
She turned to leave. Sandy crossed the space between them in a flash and grabbed her shoulder. Vanessa flashed a blow at that arm, which Sandy caught and immobilised in an unbreakable grip. Vanessa’s expression, immediately before her, was desperate.
‘Sandy, please! I’m sorry I snapped at you … my head’s screwed up, I’m full of painkillers and I wasn’t thinking straight. Just let me go, huh?’
‘No.’
‘Sandy, look, I’m in no state for this …’
‘Just tell me!’ With no small degree of desperation herself.
‘I can’t!’
‘Why the fuck not?!’
‘Because I’m in love with you, you moron!’
Sandy stared. Opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her grip on Vanessa’s arm dissolved. Vanessa pulled her arm free, in agonised exasperation. Turned to go, took one step toward the door, and stopped. Sandy tried desperately to think of something to say. Only one thing came to mind-why does everything always have to be so hard? But somehow, she didn’t think that would help very much.
‘When you say love ….. she finally managed to venture, ‘… what … do you mean, like ..
‘Oh shit, what, you want me to repeat myself?’ Vanessa made for the door.
‘Wait! Wait, wait, wait …’ Sandy hurried after her, grasping Vanessa’s uniformed shoulder-Vanessa swung at her arm, Sandy allowing the hard contact if it meant Vanessa was facing her once more …
‘Stop grabbing me!’ Vanessa’s large, dark eyes were intense with emotion. ‘Damn it, Sandy, you’re such a … such a … goddamn stupid meathead sometimes!’ I guess I must be, was all Sandy could think in reply. ‘I mean look at you, all broad shouldered, bulletproof and beautiful … you know the guys all call you Supergirl? When there’s no officers around, it’s all `Supergirl says this,’ or `Supergirl would have done it that way.’ But you really don’t have a clue, do you?’
Sandy stared at her in growing desperation. She didn’t know what to say. Felt uncertain, suddenly, of the tiled floor beneath her black boots. She glanced frantically about the bathroom in search of some inspiration, something that could assist her. A crutch to lean upon. There was nothing. Vanessa’s dark, pain-filled eyes bore into her, shimmering with tears and more frustrated by the second.
‘I mean look at you,’ she continued. ‘You didn’t suspect a thing, did you? Do you see now why I didn’t want to say anything? Why I haven’t wanted to say anything? Why the hell didn’t you listen to me? I’m the one who knows what I’m talking about here!’
She broke off, with a wave of final defeat, and turned once more for the door. Sandy grabbed her, bodily from behind, and restrained her in a tight embrace.
‘Oh God, Sandy, stop it!’ Vanessa tried to fight, then gave up as she realised the futility. Sandy just held her, not knowing what else to do. If she let go, Vanessa would leave. Somehow, she couldn’t let it happen. Vanessa tried reasoning. ‘Sandy. Sandy? Come on Sandy, let go. I’m a busy girl.’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No. Never.’
Vanessa dropped her head with a shuddering sigh. ‘Look … Sandy, we can talk about this later, now isn’t a good …’
‘Why does …’ and Sandy broke off in distress, unable to find the words. ‘Why does it have to matter? I mean fuck … I love you too, Ricey, I love you so …’
‘It’s not the same thing!’
‘Isn’t it?’ Desperately. ‘We love each other, we’re together all the time …
‘Jesus Christ, Sandy, to you of all people I shouldn’t have to explain about the birds and the bees!’
‘What, it’s just sex? Fuck it, Vanessa … it’s just sex! It doesn’t mean anything-it’s fun, it’s great to share with someone you love, or even like, but why the hell does it matter if we don’t have sex?’
‘It just does, okay! Look, for fuck’s sake, let go!’
‘No!’
‘I won’t run away! I promise, I’m not Cinderella and it’s nowhere near my bedtime, now let go!’ Sandy released her, and Vanessa turned on her, fuming. ‘It’s … look, just listen very carefully, you poor, backward little army bumpkin, because I’m only going to explain this once. I’m bisexual. That doesn’t just mean tits-and-arse gets me wet, you understand? It’s a genetic, psychological disposition, Sandy. It means falling in love, and that’s something … far beyond a little recreational screwing. Am I making sense to you here?’
‘What, you’re saying you think you have a monopoly on love in this relationship?’ Sandy retorted indignantly. She jabbed a finger at Vanessa’s chest. ‘I will challenge you on that! How the hell would you know if you love me more than I love you? You’re not me, you can’t know how I feel!’
‘Oh, no.’ Vanessa almost laughed in despair, putting both hands over her face. ‘I just died and woke up in a bad science fiction movie. I can’t believe I’m trying to explain to an android what love is. You don’t even understand the distinction.’
‘An android?’ Now she was upset. Vanessa never called her that. ‘Is that how you think of me?’
‘Have you ever been in love, Sandy?’ Vanessa challenged, ignoring that question. ‘Think really, really hard.’ Sandy just stared at her. ‘All the men you’ve slept with, and God knows it’s a lot … did one of them ever leap out at you as special? Did you ever find yourself obsessing about him? Wanting to be near him, for no particular reason?’
‘I was never around men like that, Ricey! They were either fellow GIs, all of whom were lower designation and didn’t think like I did, or they were straights-usually officers-who always kept me at arm’s length. I never had the chance, I never met the right kind of guy … and besides, it’s all a goddamned conditioned social response anyway!’
‘Oh bullshit…’
‘It is too! I swear to you, if you’d been brought up in a society where sex was commonplace recreation and no one ever got jealous, you’d be like that too!’
Vanessa folded her arms firmly, shaking her head. ‘They did something to you, Sandy. Something in the foundational tape, or something in the brain structure, I don’t know. Damn it, you see why I didn’t want to bring this up?’
‘Did something to me?’ Sandy’s head was spinning. She wasn’t used to living on this level of her emotional spectrum for any length of time. She felt like someone afraid of heights, leaning on the rooftop railing of a mega-high-rise. ‘Did something to me how? You’re saying that … that somehow, because I don’t think like you, it must be because I’m an … an android?’
‘Do you love An?’
‘Do I love Ari? What the hell kind of a question is that? Of course I love Ari … I love you too, although you seem to be having a real hard time believing it …’
‘Do you find yourself daydreaming about him?’ Vanessa was pressing it home hard, now. She was like a predator with a fresh kill when she got like this, Sandy knew, having seen it inflicted upon others from time to time. Being now the target herself made her extremely nervous, on top of her other disorientations. ‘Does the very thought of him make your insides feel all gooey? Do your knees feel weak when he approaches? Does a kiss feel like heaven? Do you impatiently count the seconds until you can see him again?’
Unexpectedly, Sandy felt tears spring to her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was tight with new emotion. ‘That’s not fair,’ she said. They both knew what she was like. Vanessa knew better than anyone Sandy’s focus, her unerring concentration, her rigid mental compartmentalisation. It was a part of her psychology, the foundational fabric of the very person that she was. ‘That’s your definition of love. I’m different to you. Just because it doesn’t hit me like it does you, that doesn’t … it doesn’t give you any right to say …’
‘Sandy, I’m …’ And this time Vanessa grabbed her, tightly by the arms. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m not saying you love any less, I’m … I’m not saying your feelings are any less significant than mine. They’re different, as you say. And somehow, with you, and I suspect with Rhian, Ramoja and others too, you just don’t feel love like straights do. It doesn’t weaken you. It doesn’t … Jesus, it doesn’t fuck with your head and make intelligent thought difficult. Somehow, they did that to you, either intentionally or as something that just happens, with the way you think, the way your thoughts are structured.
‘I’m trying to tell you that you can’t know how I feel. And that … that even if you were capable of being attracted to a woman, sexually, you still couldn’t return it. And you can’t know how much it hurts, Sandy, to love someone that much and … and to know that they’ll never, ever be able to give it back to you. Especially if that person’s also your best friend, and you see them every day, and when they wake up in the mornings, and you have to just pretend you don’t feel what you feel because you share a job together that’s just so important, and because you desperately don’t want to damage this amazing friendship even though sometimes it hurts to be around them …’
She broke off, tears flowing, barely able to speak. Sandy hugged her, and held her close, feeling that surely her arms had never held anything so precious in all her life. She buried her cheek against Vanessa’s hair, and tried to blink back her own tears.
‘I’m so flattered,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘Honestly, I’ve never been so complimented in my life.’
‘Don’t be,’ Vanessa replied, a familiar edge of humour in her voice, struggling for daylight. ‘It’s just a biochemical reaction.’
‘At the end of the day, we’re all just biochemical reactions,’ Sandy murmured into her hair. ‘It doesn’t make us any less real.’
