The Kinsmen Universe Read online

  Mentally Lienne bowed her head. "As you wish."

  Venturo held his aunt in the sniper scope of his mental stare for another long second and glanced back at her. "Claire, how much do you know about extrasensory security?"

  "Nothing." Everything.

  "Most of the computers we use are simply a collection of mechanical parts," he said. "However, certain corporations and government systems require a higher level of data processing. They run on biological networks. These networks are vulnerable to psychic attacks. We provide security for these systems. If you choose to work here, you will have to sign a confidentiality agreement. You cannot discuss the nature of your work with anyone. Will that be an issue for your family?"

  "I have no family."

  "You do have a place to stay?" he asked.

  "Yes. Immigration provided me with an apartment."

  "Good," he said. "You're hired. Lienne will take care of the details."

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  "You're welcome." He rose and walked away to his desk. Lienne stood up and gave her a pointed glance. Claire followed her outside through the hallway into the outer office. Lienne tapped her tablet and held her hand to the slit in the recessed wall to their right. The wall spat a narrow ring of deep red into her palm.

  "Hand," the woman ordered.

  Claire held out her hand and Lienne slid the ring on her right middle finger. "Two weeks advance. It will be recouped gradually from your pay. Squeeze the sides to view the balance." The older woman examined her critically. "New wardrobe. Nothing too provocative, nothing too drab. Nothing like this." She indicated Claire's clothes with the sweep of her hand.

  It wasn't an insult, but it felt like a slap. "Thank you," Claire said.

  "You will be replacing Olemi, Venturo's personal admin. If it was up to me, I would place you in a position of lesser responsibility, but he insisted. He will see every mistake you will make and I have no doubt he will overlook some of them, because he is a kind man. But his patience isn't infinite." Steel laced Lienne's gaze. "Make no mistake, Claire. If you betray our family, he will kill you."

  "I understand." He would find her a surprisingly difficult target.

  "This tablet contains the work manuals that explain your duties and company procedures. Ven feels sorry for you. Going through life relying on the sympathy of strangers is no way to live. I suggest you memorize these manuals over the weekend, so you can earn your keep with something more than your sad story." Lienne pursed her lips. "Do you have any questions?"

  "Would it be a problem if I dyed my hair?"

  Lienne arched her eyebrows. "Dictating the color of your hair would violate Employee Rights. I can tell you what clothes to wear, but clothes can be removed at the end of the work day. Hair cannot. You may dye it whatever shade you wish, although I would hope that it will be something tasteful. Working here is a privilege even for the most qualified applicants. You've been given a gift. Don't waste it."

  Claire slid into the seat of the aerial. She felt lost, as if her very being was unravelling at the seams and the tatters of her psyche swirled around her, lifted by the breeze.

  "Destination?" an automated male voice asked.

  "Find a salon frequented by businesswomen."

  "The closest location is Allure. Eighty-six percent of users provided four star or above rating. Estimated time of travel: ten minutes. Permission to book an appointment?"

  "Book it."

  The aerial hummed and took to the air. Claire slumped on the seat. A lost puppy. She was Venturo Escana's rescued mongrel. The handsome golden man felt sorry for her. He knew that he stunned her and he felt pity for her. Her pride didn't just sting, it twisted in contortions. She wanted to crack her shell open, show him the full power of her mind, and scream, "Look at me!"

  They would throw her off planet so fast, she wouldn't have a chance to blink.

  Fatigue flowed over her in a heavy wave.

  She had a job. She had an apartment. No matter how bad it was, it had to be better than the concrete box on Uley.

  She tapped the tablet and pulled up the employee manual. Bionet protocols. Basic security. Data compilation. She could do this job in her sleep. She had done it sixteen years ago - that's how all psychers started.

  She would have to make sure that she made small insignificant mistakes to avoid calling attention to her sudden expertise.

  "You have reached your destination," the aerial announced. They landed. She stepped out of the vehicle. In front of her, a building rose, shaped like an ancient ivory hand fan, complete with lace carved in wide panes. The sign above the rectangular doorway proclaimed Allure.

  Claire walked inside. The glass doors hissed open at her approach. At the receptionist desk a man with lemony yellow hair glanced at her.

  "I have an appointment," she said.

  "Claire?"

  "Yes." She could see her own reflection in the mirror behind him: pale brown hair of interminable shade, pulled back from her face into a braid, generously streaked with premature gray and tinted with slight orange.

  "What will it be?"

  She pointed to her hair. "Fix this."

  Thirty seconds later she sat in a chair. A woman approached her. "Good afternoon, my name is Belina and what will we... oh my. Horatio?"

  A slight, effeminate man approached, wiping his hands with a towel. "Take the braid out."

  Belina unwound the braid and her hair fell around Claire's face in a dense wave.

  "Better already." Horatio leaned next to her, looking in the mirror at her reflection. "Why is it stained with orange?" he asked softly.

  "Chemical deposits in the water," she said.

  "I see. What will you let us do?"

  "I've been hired as an admin by the Escana family," she said. "You may do anything that won't get me fired."

  Two hours later Claire looked in the mirror. The woman who looked back was about five years younger. A cloud of copper-red hair fell on her shoulders in an artful cascade, glinting with splashes of gold and deep red, softening her features and bringing out her grey eyes. She turned her head, and the hair moved, shimmering and light. Claire studied the woman's face. It didn't belong to her.

  "Gorgeous," Horatio said as she settled the bill and she smiled back at him without forcing it.

  "Where do business women shop?" she asked him.

  "How much money do you have?"

  She squeezed the ring, checking. "Two thousand credits."

  He borrowed her tablet and scribbled the address with a stylus. "Ask for Sophia. And use the shampoo I gave you. Red fades fast."

  By the time the aerial finally landed in front of her apartment, the sky had grown dark. Claire ducked into the entrance and walked up the stairs to the fourth floor. She pressed her thumb to the keypad. The lock clicked open, and she stepped inside.

  Walls of warm inviting yellow greeted her. The floor was textured tile in a dozen shades of pale green, brown, and beige. Soft green couches waited to be sat on to her right. A curved coffee table carved from some reddish rock rested between them, and on it in a wide glass dish floated burgundy-red dahlia blossoms. Ahead, double doors framed by diaphanous curtains led to a balcony.

  Claire dropped her bags.

  The apartment was completely quiet. She walked across the floor to the door and slid it open. A small balcony presented her with a view of the sunset: above her the cosmos was deep purple and far ahead, at the horizon, where the setting sun rolled behind the distant mountains, the sky glowed with bright vivid red. Wind fanned her, bringing with it a scent of some flower she didn't know.

  She sat down on the floor of the balcony, behind the trellised rail, and cried.

  Chapter Three

  Claire opened her eyes. The ceiling above her was cream, painted with yellow stripes from the rays of the morning sun filtering through the window.

  She rolled out of bed and walked out onto the balcony. Outside, New Delphi buzzed with life. In the sky, crisscrossing
currents of aerials flowed one above the other, sliding toward the distant buildings of the business sector. Below, a wide street led into the distance, framed by buildings in every color, shape, and size. People strolled on the sidewalk. Claire watched a young woman leading two little girls down the street. Both children wore flowing white dresses and straw hats with small flowers in the brim. Their little sandals made loud slapping sounds on the sidewalk: flop, flop, flop. The woman stopped at a small stall offering buckets of fruit under a bright green awning. The vendor offered the little girls a cup of some sort of round red berries.

  Suddenly she was starving.

  Claire rummaged through the new clothes she'd hung up in the closet, found a simple pale blue dress, slipped it on, and ran out the door.

  The street vendor was old, his hair almost completely grey, his nose large with a bump, like a beak of some bird. He squinted at her with dark eyes as she looked at the fruit.

  "What's this one?" she pointed to a bulbous green fruit.

  "Pears," he said.

  "And this one?" She pointed at the big sphere of yellow blushing with red on one side.

  "Dahlia peaches."

  Claire picked up a peach and smelled. The delicate, sweet aroma teased her.

  "You're from Uley?" he asked.

  She nodded.

  "I've seen a few of you in the neighborhood," he said. "You're braver than most. Usually it takes your people ten minutes to decide to talk to me." He pointed to boxes one by one. "This one is sweet but firm, this one is sweet and soft, this one is tart..."

  "One of each," she said and held her ring to the scanner mounted on the stall's support.

  "We can do that."

  The vendor took a satchel from a stack and filled it with fruit, sliding it carefully into the bag one by one.

  A brush of a familiar mind made Claire turn. A woman approached, her dark hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a familiar grey tunic of simple cut over plain trousers. Tonya Damon, Claire remembered. She lived across from her mother's apartment.

  Tonya saw her and halted, awkward. The look of worry in the woman's eyes stabbed at Claire. She'd seen this reaction before: she was a psycher, an officer, and a killer and Tonya was afraid.

  "Are you here for the fruit?" Claire asked, forcing a smile.

  "Yes. No. I was just looking."

  Claire took the satchel from the vendor's hand and pulled out a pear. "Would you like to try one?"

  Tonya looked at the pear.

  "I got carried away and bought a whole bag," Claire said.

  "She did," the vendor confirmed.

  Tonya swallowed.

  "I can't possibly eat it all by myself. It would be a waste."

  She'd said the magic word. Tonya reached out for the pear and took it. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  Tonya hesitated.

  Claire waited, the smile in place.

  "When did you arrive?" Tonya said finally.

  "Yesterday. You?"

  "A week ago." The woman blinked. "I found a job. I work for a chemical laboratory. That's what I did on Uley, so it worked out."

  "That's great," Claire told her. "I found a job, too, as an admin."

  "That's nice." Tonya smiled.

  What was her husband's name... "How's Mark?"

  "Mark died," Tonya said. "Killed on the front line two years ago."

  "I'm so sorry."

  "That's alright. It was nice to see you."

  "Nice to see you as well. I live in that building over there." Claire nodded at the apartment. "Fourth floor. If you need anything..."

  "I'm down the street. I better go. Thank you for talking to me."

  "Thank you."

  Tonya turned, took a few hurried steps, turned and came closer. She licked her lips, unsure, leaned closer and said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your hair is too bright."

  She ducked her head and hurried on, the pear in her hand.

  "What was that all about?" the vendor asked.

  "It's a kindness," Claire said. "She was trying to save me from embarrassment, because my hair draws attention."

  "Don't listen to her. I like your hair," the vendor said. "It's sunny."

  "I like my hair too. Thank you for the fruit." She took the satchel and went to her apartment.

  Claire washed the fruit, arranged it on a plastic cutting board she'd found in the kitchen and took it and a knife to the coffee table. She cut the fruit into slices, put it into a bowl and took it to the couch. She linked her tablet to the larger digital screen on the wall and pulled up the work manuals. The Guardian procedure differed slightly from Uley's military protocols but the basic methods were the same. She'd finished with them and looked at the screen.

  She still had a lot of fruit and nothing to do.

  "Net search: Venturo Escana."

  "Venturo Escana," the AI announced in a pleasant male voice. "Son of Haldor Madsen and Malvina Escana. Founder and joint owner of Guardian, Inc. Personal net worth estimated at seven million credits -"

  "No audio," she said. "I want to read it."

  The digital screen flashed, opening various news articles. She scooted deeper into the couch and reached for a piece of some green fruit shaped like an ancient hour-glass.

  She sifted through press releases, financial statements, and tabloid gossip. There wasn't much. Guardian, Inc., seemed to have a stellar reputation. In the eight years of its existence, the firm had grown from a small start-up to the third largest provider of bionet security in the southern hemisphere. Its chief competitors, Apex and DSS, both had decades of experience and a lot of family capital backing them up.

  The entire Escana family preferred to fly under the radar. All she found were random images of Venturo in a formal setting in the company of New Delphi's elite, usually escorting a beautiful woman. She tried to narrow down his type. He seemed to show no preference. The only common ground between his dates consisted of expensive tastes, beauty, and superior grooming.

  Studying New Delphi's movers and shakers proved highly educational. There was no color too bright or inappropriate for clothes or hair. She ended up laughing at the ridiculous dresses and insane shoes. It was the best time she'd had in the last decade.

  A small link popped up on the screen in the corner. She followed it to an eighteen-year-old news item. "Rumors of Engagement between de Solis and Escana."

  Hmm. Now that was interesting, since that de Solis owned DDS.

  "The persistent rumors of a union between de Solis and Escana kinsmen families can be put to rest. When asked for comment, Castilla de Solis debunked all speculation of the proposed engagement between herself and Venturo Escana. It seems the de Solis heiress holds the rising star of the Escana clan in low regard. Had the rumors proven true, the struggling Escana Family would have reaped great financial benefits..."

  "Castilla de Solis, image," Claire said.

  A picture of a woman filled the screen. Tall, slender, athletic, she leaned back, laughing, the bright lavender dress falling off her shoulders, held up seemingly by her breasts alone. Jet black hair spilled down her back in a glossy wave.

  No way to gauge her psycher capacity.

  If that was Venturo's type, she'd chosen the wrong hair color. She should've dyed her hair black.

  Claire leaned back. "Delete."

  Castilla disappeared, replaced by an image of Venturo: golden, muscular, his green eyes sharp with intellect. Her body tightened in response, eager for contact. She imagined sliding her hands along those carved arms...

  Claire exhaled slowly. There was no rational explanation why when she looked at him, she thought of sex. It was an involuntary response, completely at odds with her personality and training.

  Sex was a means of relief. On Uley, it was an understood fact that one engaged in it, but it was rarely discussed. She had a sexual partner once. His name was Dominic. She was eighteen, he was twenty-two. She had just made lieutenant and he was in line for the captain promotion.
They had three months together and in those three months she had something to look forward to when she returned to her apartment. She could still recall the feel of his hands on her, the way he said her name, the way he felt inside her.

  The Intelligence had transferred him across the city. They had no warning. One day he was simply gone. It didn't take her long to put it together: she was a rising star and he was perceived as a distraction. He didn't try to look for her. He didn't put up a fight. Since then, she'd kept her sexual impulses under lock and key. Masturbation brought her the same relief, and while it came with no intimacy, it didn't carry a burden of disappointment either. In her last weeks on Uley she hadn't even felt the need for it.

  She looked at Venturo Escana on the screen. It was as if some vital part of her, the one that was female and craved male contact, sex, and love, had withered. Somehow this man had managed to resuscitate it without doing anything at all. And he felt nothing except pity for her. The irony made her laugh.

  She would see him again on Monday. She had to make sure to not make a fool of herself.

  Her supervisor was a woman three years her junior. Her name was Renata, her hair was dark brown, her nails bright yellow, and when she was surprised, she opened her brown eyes so wide, she looked slightly deranged.

  "How did you get through these so fast?"

  "I'm motivated." Claire smiled.

  Renata scrolled through the bionet activity reports with rows of tabled data. "Hang on, I have to find something to gripe about." She kept scrolling. "Oh. Here, look, the Radon sector heading should be in blue and you have it in grey." Her fingers flew over her keyboard. "Fix, fix, fix! Fixed."

  Claire studied Renata out of the corner of her eye. Her mannerisms were so... carefree. Not exactly childlike but completely devoid of the somber poise common to Uley. If you dropped Renata, the big smile, wide eyes, and purple dress, in the middle of an Uley skyscraper, people would pretend she wasn't there. They'd just refuse to see her. Maybe some well-meaning soul would walk up to her and confidentially inform her that her hair was too bright and she was making a fool of herself...