Judas Unchained

“Your personal security would be upgraded and in place before the Far Away proposal is made. Senate Security has several operatives wetwired at a level capable of dealing with the Starflyer assassin.”

“Walk in the park, then.”

“Hardly.”

“I’ll schedule an appointment with Crispin. You can start upgrading my security.”

“Thank you, Senator.”

***

Justine sat on the couch for a long while after the Investigator had left. The prospect that Kime could come around to accepting the Starflyer was a phenomenal breakthrough. The more she considered the implications, the more worried she became. At the moment she was completely alone in the Senate in her belief, which made her extremely vulnerable. By introducing the prospect that the Starflyer was real she would expose herself to political destruction by the Halgarths, possibly in conjunction with the Sheldons. They really did need undeniable proof before going public.

But then that’s always been the problem.

The icon that represented the code Kazimir had sent her as he died was still a glowing azure point at the edge of her virtual vision. A constant temptation. Her virtual finger reached out and touched it. She blamed hormones.

As befitted the leader of the African caucus, Ramon DB’s office was actually larger than Thompson’s. The walls were hung with ancient shields and skins; holographic portraits showed vast landscapes from every African world. Right in the middle, the largest picture showed a panoramic view of Kilimanjaro, taken a century ago, when the glaciers on the top had expanded again, returning the colossal mountain to its former glory. There was a smaller picture beside it, featuring Ramon at the top of the volcano, dressed in thick thermal walking clothes, standing beside the glacier’s edge, smiling proudly at the camera.

Justine tilted her head to one side as she looked at it. “You know, I could have sworn I was standing next to you when that was taken. How strange, you must have walked up there again without me. And in the same clothes, too.”

“I…er. This is a political office,” he said sheepishly. “Everything in here has to be symbolic of my constituency, those who I represent, who need my help.”

“And what could be more symbolic than you taking a white wife? A union between two cultures and races. Building a bridge. A loving partnership. Showing that we are all above the conflicts of the past. Creating a Commonwealth of equality and fairness. A Commonwealth where skin color simply doesn’t—”

“All right, all right! I take the point. Dear God, woman.”

“So you’ll change it back? You’ll stop me from being an unperson.” Somehow she managed to keep a straight face. It was difficult, he looked so guilty, which brought out that vulnerable aspect she’d adored. She’d always had fun teasing Rammy.

“I will take it under advisement, certainly,” he said with mock dignity.

“Why, thank you, Senator. You can rely on my vote.”

“Was there a reason you came here other than to taunt me?”

The humor faded from her face. “Yes. I need some serious advice.”

“And you came to me? I’m flattered. Is this serious advice political, or personal? I know it can’t be corporate; I remember Gore’s opinions on my ideology. What was it he used to call me?”

“ ‘A whining pinko illiberal without a clue how the real world works,’ is probably the only one I can repeat in an office as symbolic as this.”

Ramon laughed, and kissed her cheek. She was disturbed by how cold his skin was, the little layer of perspiration on his forehead.

“So you needn’t worry, this is definitely political advice I’m after,” she said as they sat on a long teak bench carved with antelope figures. She felt her stomach churn again, and clenched her throat. There was nothing she could do to stop the shiver running down her body.

“Are you all right?” Ramon asked, his face creased in genuine concern.

“Better shape than you.” She gave him a weak smile. “A lot better.” Her hand went to her mouth as her stomach rebelled again.

Ramon was studying her intently. He leaned in a little closer, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Dear God, you’re pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“I…That’s…Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Rammy.” She was worried she was going to start crying. Damn hormones.

“You’re really pregnant. He must be quite something. You didn’t even do that for me. Our child was grown in a womb tank.”

There was nothing she could do to stop it. The tears just came pouring out. “He’s dead,” she sobbed. “Really dead, Rammy. And it’s all my fault.”

“Dead?” His arms had gone around her, slipping easily into the comfy old position, her head on his shoulder, cheek pressed to his neck. “Are you talking about that boy at LA Galactic?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“So you’re punishing yourself like this.”

“No. It’s our baby, I want it to be safe. This way I can be sure.”

“I know you,” he said soothingly. “This is the penance you’ve given yourself.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“He must have been very special.”