Jade Darcy and the Affair of Honor

Chapter 1: Nightmare-2

When she’d disabled the last adversary and no more came against her, the walls reappeared and the lighting came up gradually to normal level. “Fifteen minutes, as you requested,” the computer told her.

Jade Darcy stood naked and sweating in the middle of the floor. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before speaking. “Score, Val?”

“Ten dead, twenty-three incapacitated, three who might possibly have gotten up and caused further trouble.”

“Replay those three.”

Jade stepped off to one side as holographic images of her and her opponents materialized. She watched the movements carefully and saw she’d been a bit sloppy in a couple of her kicks. Viewed analytically, she realized she’d tried too hard to aim for the groin in cases where a lower kick to the kneecap would have been more effective. She knew it was still the aftermath of her nightmare—she wanted to kick men in the balls after that—but it disturbed her nonetheless. The spinal computer that augmented her reflexes was supposed to be dispassionate and separate from her mind and her emotions. If even it was affected by her nightmare, how deeply into her psyche had the rape been burned?

“Looks like I need some minor reprogramming,” she muttered. “Too bad there’s no one within five transfer stations who can do it.”

She sighed as she put the knives back in their place in her arsenal closet. Almost anyone, even a carc, would be satisfied with that score, considering she’d remained uninjured, but Jade Darcy was a perfectionist. Fighting was her life’s trade, the only thing that mattered to her anymore. “Pretty good” was not enough in the real world. There were only the perfect and the dead, and she was resolved to remain in the first category.

“Shower again, Val,” she said as she padded to the bathroom. This time she lathered up and washed herself thoroughly, and douched as well to remove the last psychological traces of impurity left over from the nightmare. Finally feeling cleansed, she stood under the dryer and let the moisture be evaporated from the surface of her body.

“Let’s have some breakfast, Val, while I’m deciding what to wear today. Just the usual.”

The computer’s programming could have synthesized eggs and toast, or cereal, or steak, or sashimi, or any of thousands of other combinations humans considered edible—but Jade Darcy’s diet was rigid. She always had a breakfast of her own concoction, a milkshakelike agglomeration of protein, vitamins, and all the nutritional necessities for human well-being. It was a meal devoid of taste or substance, but eating was a purely mechanical function, and Jade Darcy could see no reason to pamper herself by indulging in the decadence of pleasant sensation. A meal couldn’t be good for her if it tasted good.

The bed reshaped itself into a table and bench in the center of her front room, and a slot opened in the wall to reveal a large tumbler filled with Jade’s breakfast. Jade took the tumbler and sat down on the bench, staring at the computer screen in the wall. “I’m feeling purplish today, Val. Show me what you’ve got.”

She sipped slowly at her breakfast as the screen flashed a number of designs and patterns, most of them totally inappropriate for her. She’d never told the computer to eliminate the frillier, more feminine designs from its catalog; she liked to look at them even though she knew she could never wear them. Finally the computer reached the more acceptable range and she saw a design she liked. “I’ll have that one today, Val,” she said.

Putting the tumbler with her half-finished breakfast down on the table, she crossed the room to the closet. The computer had used raw materials, both fresh and recycled from other clothes, to create the outfit Jade requested. The scents of fresh dye and the polymer catalysts were still dissipating as Jade reached for them.

She decided to give the smells a moment to fade while she did her toilet. She brushed her teeth and flossed thoroughly, then gargled her mouthwash as well. Her hair merely required two minutes’ brushing with the special dryer attachment; the short cut Val gave her each month was designed for minimal care.

Her clothing was equally efficient. Breast bands built into the leotard were made of an elastic fabric designed to minimize both bruising in a fight and breakdown of tissues even during the most rigorous movement. The material of her tights allowed enough air circulation to prevent skin and other problems while still providing decent insulation from extreme temperatures. That these features also made the most of her sleek young figure was something Jade had told Val was an unimportant by-product. Over these basics she donned the clothes of a special breakaway design that couldn’t be used to restrain her in a fight. After five minutes, Jade stepped out into the room once more. “Mirror, Val,” she said.

The entire wall beside her became reflective, allowing her a full-length glimpse of herself. She looked her image over approvingly. Her hip-length long-sleeved silky shirt was lilac with subtle swirls of darker purples and had a deep wine collar that circled her neck softly, leaving plenty of room to breathe and turn her head quickly. The slacks were a deep purple verging into black, tucked into thigh-high boots of lavender leather.

The ensemble fit closely to her short, slender body without ever restricting her total freedom of movement. In her job, movement was everything. She didn’t bother with makeup. There weren’t any other humans around here to impress, and aliens didn’t care whether her features were artificially enhanced. She had her clothes impregnated with a neutral scent that soothed most pheromone-sensitive races, and that was sufficient as perfume.

Her jet-black hair was shoulder-length, curling inward just at her neck and framing the Oriental face she’d inherited from her Japanese mother. She had brown eyes, a straight, thin nose—the only feature she’d really gotten from her father—and a sensuous mouth. She’d once taken pride in her beauty, but she no longer thought in those terms. Hers was an efficient face, and that was good enough for her.

Deciding that she looked acceptable for the day, Jade sat back down at the table to finish her breakfast. “Any mail or messages, Val?” she asked as she took another sip from the tumbler.

There was one letter, all the way from Earth, and it bore the letterhead of Verdugo and Lance Detective Agency. Jade immediately sat up straight and read it carefully, but it was simply their monthly report on the activities of Mastersergeant Jeffrey B. Barker. The subject had spent his month entirely at the training base in Java with a corps of carc trainees. There had been no unusual activities. Along with the report was their monthly bill for 250 eus.

Jade snorted. “Motherfuckers are bleeding me dry, and all they send me is garbage. What’s my credit balance, Val?”

“Fifteen thousand, three hundred seventeen energy units.”

And rent was coming up next week, too, which meant another two hundred eus shot. This two-room detached house, with its gravity generator and distance from its neighbors, was the minimum she felt she could get away with—she needed the exercise room and the higher gravity to keep herself in shape—but she still felt guilty about the extravagance. She was tempted to write Verdugo and Lance and tell them to f**k off, but she knew she didn’t dare. She had to keep tabs on Barker. She couldn’t let him get away. In his position, he could disappear at any moment, and she might never be able to find him again. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Pay their f*****g bill, Val,” she sighed, knowing that and the rent would bring her well below fifteen thousand. She couldn’t hire the kind of talent she’d need with that little money. No matter how hard she worked and how tightly she saved, the money mounted up so slowly. She’d never get what she needed working for Rix. What she needed was a few more jobs, a couple of big ones. But she couldn’t go around creating them; they had to come to her, and she had to wait for them. It was very frustrating.

“There’s also a message from the K’luune, Lorpet,” Val said.

“Maybe the slimy bastard has a job for me. His last few tips paid off. Play it, Val, while I try to hold down my breakfast.”

Lorpet’s features appeared on the screen, looking like a mass of bubbling white jelly with a row of dark spots for eyes and sharp mandibles that clicked together to produce his speech. The computer translated his clicks for her.

“Greetings, worthy Jade Darcy. The humble Lorpet abases himself before your noble presence and begs your forgiveness for his intrusion into your privacy. Information has reached the attention of this unworthy one regarding the presence on Cablans of another member of your estimable race, just arrived today. Knowing this would be of interest to you, poor pitiful Lorpet hastens to contact you at your convenience to share his minuscule knowledge, and humbly awaits your decision to make an appointment. Once more, he entreats your forgiveness for presenting himself uninvited upon your notice.” Lorpet’s eyes blinked in a ritual pattern of farewell and the message faded from her screen.

Jade Darcy sat frozen in place, staring at the blank screen. Another Terran on Cablans! An animal panic, kin to her nightmare fear, paralyzed her as no physical opponent could have. She’d come all this way, to the farthest transfer station she could find, specifically to avoid other humans. For five years she’d remained alone of her kind—and now suddenly another one had shown up. What could this mean?

Shards of her nightmare flashed through her mind, and her hand twitched so badly she put her tumbler down to avoid spilling her breakfast. Closing her eyes, she performed the t’ai chi breathing discipline to restore her body and spirit to calmness. There’s no evidence this person came for you, she told herself sternly. It could be a coincidence. You’re not the center of everyone else’s universe. Other people can come here for unrelated reasons. This litany helped her stop the fight-or-flight reaction, but did little toward releasing the knot her stomach was tied in.

She looked at the small computer screen implanted in the back of her left hand and asked, “Time?” The screen showed she had little more than an hour before she was due to start her shift at the ingesterie—not enough time to meet and deal with Lorpet. She’d have to set something up for after work. This was top priority.

“Send a message to Lorpet, Val, as follows: The unworthy Jade Darcy gratefully acknowledges the enlightening message of the most honorable and exalted Lorpet, and while she is too lowly to aspire to his level of wisdom, she begs his condescension to enlighten her further. She excuses the fact that her dreary...no, her dismal existence requires her presence at the ingesterie of Rix Kaf-Amur until 1700 hours, but she would be most honored to grovel before him at a place of his convenience at any time thereafter. End of message.” False humility was a power game to the K’luune. If she could outgrovel “poor, pitiful Lorpet”—one of the shrewdest data brokers on Cablans—perhaps she could knock his price down to something reasonable.

She went to her dresser and pulled out the accessories she’d need for the day. First was the u-trans, a small cylinder attached to a custom-molded earpiece. The curved cylinder fit around the back of her ear, making it nearly invisible. Without the u-trans she couldn’t hope to make sense of the babel that surrounded her on Cablans. She rolled up her sleeves and strapped on her other accessories—two spring-loaded knife holders, one on the inside of each forearm. She tested them to make sure they were working, then rolled her sleeves down over them and tested them again. The proper muscle contractions in her arm would send the blade into her hand, ready for action; but in the meantime the knives were out of the way and unobtrusive.

That was all the weaponry she carried. If trouble arose that she couldn’t handle with her training, her computer-augmented reflexes, and two knives, it would be such a big problem that she’d have to call for assistance anyway. There was no sense overarming herself.

She looked at herself in the mirror one more time, straightened her hair, and made sure the knives didn’t show. Jade Darcy was ready for work.

“Maintenance configuration, Val,” she said as she strode to the door, which opened obediently for her.

Standing in the doorway was a frizzlic, a small four-legged animal less than half a meter long and standing as tall as the middle of her calf. Its brown fur, streaked and spotted with patches of gray, was short and bristly. It had a small face with a long pointed snout, a white triangular marking on its forehead, and small black eyes that seemed to be all pupil. Jade had never seen a hedgehog face to face, but she could easily imagine that the frizzlic was an alien cousin to the hedgehog.

“You again,” she chided the frizzlic. “How many times have I told you not to come around here?”

The frizzlic merely made chirping sounds and rubbed its long snout against the door frame.

“You’re supposed to be feral,” Jade continued. “It says so right in my computer. I know some people make pets out of you, but you’re supposed to take care of yourself in the wild. Why don’t you do that instead of coming around here looking for handouts? It’s not good to be domesticated. You get too dependent on other people, and then when they betray you, you die.”

She looked at the screen on the back of her left hand and realized she had just enough time to get to work for the shift briefing. Her tumbler still had some of her breakfast left in the bottom—but her stomach was too queasy after Lorpet’s message to digest anything more. It would be a shame to let the stuff go to waste.

“Get me a bowl, Val,” she said. She placed the frizzlic on the ground away from the doorsill, then walked back inside and over to the wall slot, where Val had revealed a small bowl. The frizzlic followed her inside, adjusting to the higher gravity Jade kept inside her house, and trying to rub its eagerly wiggling snout against her boots. Pouring the remainder of her breakfast into the bowl, Jade strode back to the door and placed the bowl down outside, under the bushes that lined the walkway.

With a short, high-pitched squeal, the frizzlic stuck its head into the bowl, getting some of the liquid up its snout. It snorted and shook its head, then began lapping at the liquid with its little green tongue.

Jade watched it with a scornful expression. “Just don’t expect to make a habit of this, frizzlic. This is not going to be a regular relationship. The last thing in the universe I need is a f*****g pet.”

She walked back into the apartment and tossed the empty tumbler into the recycle slot. Shaking her head at the silly sounds the frizzlic was making, she strode off to work. Had she realized she was humming, and a lullaby at that, she would have been very annoyed with herself.