January 24, 2363 AIA

Ionu

When Fenn came out of his house the next morning, Creed was already there. The deputy was across what might be laughingly called the street, leaning back on a column supporting a patio cover. Fenn stood in the shade provided by his own cover and stared at Creed until the man saw fit to come over.

“Good morning, Boss.”

“What are you doing here, Creed?”

“Babysitting.”

In an extreme and unprecedented reaction, the sheriff raised an eyebrow. The deputy could hardly miss such dramatic pageantry.

“You’re surprised?” Creed asked.

“Only that you admitted it,” Fenn said.

“I have to look after you. You tend to get hurt.”

“And who’s your babysitter, Deputy?”

“I don’t have one, but I’m pretty sure Wyss thinks she’s my nanny.”

“She doesn’t scold you.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a bare statement of fact. Wyss wouldn’t even give instructions; she made requests or gave suggestions.

“Oh, no,” Creed said, “but she does get disappointed. Frowns a little. Sighs.”

“That kind of heartless manipulation makes me wonder why thumbscrews were ever considered torture.”

Creed nodded.

Fenn stepped out into the street. His deputy followed.

If you lived on Ionu, you instinctively fell into a pace dictated by the heat. It was quick enough to get you to shade faster but slow enough it wouldn’t raise your heart rate.

They walked two blocks in silence, then Creed muttered, “We’re not going to the warehouse?”

“No.”

“What about the cannon?”

“I recovered it last night. Along with as much evidence as I could get.”

Tyler grit his teeth. “You went back without me.”

“You’re a lousy babysitter.”

“I’m going to send Wyss after you.”

“Don’t.”

The one-word admonishment jerked the deputy out of his brooding mood. Fenn was right; you could joke about a lot of things, but you didn’t joke about that.

God help her, Wyss would probably do it.

“How late were you up?” Creed asked.

“I went home to shower,” Fenn said.

“You haven’t slept?”

“Not yet. There’s one more thing to deal with before we’re done with this fiasco.”

Creed nodded again. He’d been dreading the idea that he’d have to say something, but it was obvious Fenn had also been thinking about it.

When they walked into their headquarters, Edsen was already there. He looked up when he heard them come in. As he took in their dressings and bruises, he staggered to his feet. His face was pale.

“Sheriff…”

“Edsen.”

The two men stared at each other. Fenn’s countenance was his normal expressionless mask. Edsen’s aspect was blank in the same way a sick person sometimes appears empty. The secretary swallowed. When he talked, he tried to force his voice to sound easy.

“There are three representatives from Ashtell waiting for you in your office.”

“How important are they?” Fenn asked.

“Byrick’s in there.”

“Is that so? I’m honored. How long have they been waiting?”

“Since I got here. You were late.”

“Creed, check my office door.”

The deputy did as he was told. He verified it was completely shut, then nodded to Fenn.

Without any ceremony, Jun Fenn said, “Edsen, give me my itinerary for the day and that stack of essential papers you always have for me, then get out of my building.”

Edsen’s body jerked, but he said nothing.

The sheriff went on, “You have three minutes to gather up any personal belongings, then you will be gone. If you aren’t gone by that time, I’ll have Creed arrest you for trespassing on secured Supremacy property. If you resist or annoy us in any way, I’ll have him shoot you.”

Creed smiled as he drew his e-pistol. He figured a good smile would be almost as unnerving as how casual Fenn sounded when he talked about using deadly force. Besides, Creed kind of felt like smiling.

“Three minutes, Edsen,” Fenn said, “and then, if I were you, I’d buy a ticket off this planet.”

The secretary finally found his voice: “Sheriff!”

“Didn’t they pay you enough for transport?”

“Sheriff, I… didn’t—”

Suddenly Fenn was there, right in front of his secretary’s desk. The sheriff had moved like a striking snake. His face was still a mask of calm, but there was an energy in his voice few people ever heard, and no one wanted to hear twice.

“Try it, Edsen. Lie to me. Tell me you never took their blood money. There were only three people in this galaxy that knew when we were going to do that bust, and we’re all in this room. Creed. Myself. And you—uninjured.”

A choked whisper: “I had no idea.”

“I believe you, because you’re a worm—a pathetic and willfully stupid man. You probably chose to believe that they would change their meeting time or place to avoid us. But don’t brag about that as if you hope it’ll make me think better of you, because in the end, you still betrayed me and what I was trying to do. You may not have wanted to see us hurt, but you didn’t want us to succeed either.”

Jun leaned away from the desk. “Three minutes, Edsen. The clock starts now.” The sheriff turned. “Creed, make sure you strip him of all his clearance rights and don’t leave him alone for a second. If he pisses, you’re there to make sure he isn’t passing information in his urine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fenn, please—”

“Edsen, have I ever told you how annoying I find your voice?” Jun took the clipboard out of his former secretary’s hands and crossed over to his office door.

The sheriff stared at the papers as he entered; he needed a moment to calm down before he confronted what was waiting for him. He couldn’t read anything. His exhaustion was making it difficult to focus on the words.

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“Good morning, gentleman,” he said.

“Good god, Fenn! What happened to you?”

Jun lowered the clipboard when he heard the playful tone. It was all the right words and all the concern you’d expect…and a hint of amusement.

He stared at Byrick.

The man went on, “You look like a total wreck!”

Ian Byrick had lost some more weight. It wasn’t vanity. The man would always be slightly homely and he knew it, but living in relentless heat changed your motivation. The soft skin of his face drooped around his perpetual smile. As always, his clothes were perfectly tailored, and his shirt was impossibly white. Homely or not, the man bowed to the fashion expectations for a desert-dwelling business man.

“I had a rough night last night,” the sheriff said.

“It’s nothing to do with us, is it?”

What Fenn wouldn’t give for a dark alley and five minutes free from his conscience. Byrick would never smile again.

“The investigation is currently on-going,” Fenn said. He looked at the other two men. He recognized one by sight, but the other was a stranger. “Would you care to introduce us, Mr. Byrick?”

Ian lifted one of his blocky hands. “This is Jiho Day. He came in with the milk this morning. He’s even higher up in Ashtell than I am.”

“Good morning, Sheriff,” Day said.

Fenn only nodded. He was busy taking in the man’s appearance. Day’s suit was at least as expensive as Byrick’s clothes, but it must have been oppressive in the Ionu heat. Despite the sheen of sweat, his face was placid.

Byrick pointed around Day. “Mr. Mason Croft, esquire, is the dread lawyer representing Ashtell on Ionu. You may have seen him around.”

Croft was wearing the same desert-business style as his boss, but to much better effect.

“Be careful shaking my hand.” Croft spoke with a lopsided smile to make his ironic humor more obvious. “If you’d believe Mr. Byrick, it might be poisoned.”

They shook anyway. Fenn noted that Croft was being gentle out of consideration for his injuries. The sheriff’s eyes lingered on the lawyer for a second, then he walked around the gathering and sat down in his chair.

“And what can I do for Ashtell this fine, sunny morning?” Fenn asked.

Day sat in the chair beside the one Byrick was already occupying. Croft remained standing behind them.

“Sheriff Fenn, it’s not what you can do for us,” Byrick said. “It’s what we can do for you.”

“Oh?”

Day took over. “We heard through a high-up channel that you were having some problems with homelessness here—problems bad enough that you were paying for their transport to other planets out of your own budget.”

“Really, Fenn,” Byrick cried, “why didn’t you tell me?”

Fenn wondered if he was trying to sound like an old-school tragedian actor. Did he practice in front of a mirror to get it exactly right?

Day continued as though the interruption hadn’t occurred. “We at Ashtell are always concerned for the health and happiness of our employees—”

“That’s the wrong line,” Fenn said.

Mr. Day’s speech faltered.

“We’re talking about the homeless,” Fenn said, “therefore, they aren’t your employees. You needed to use the line about being concerned for all those who might be living on your sponsored planets.”

Byrick bellowed out a laugh. Day looked nonplussed.

“Errr, you’re correct,” Day said. “When we looked into the situation on Ionu—”

Fenn’s eyes flew to the man’s face, trying to read everything he might find there.

“—we agreed that the planet was uniquely inhospitable and the markets tragically over-inflated for some people to survive if they were laid off.” Here the off-worlder glanced at Croft. “We don’t take any responsibility for whether or not people choose to use their money wisely and set aside necessary savings—”

The lawyer inclined his head.

Oh, yes, Fenn thought. What a good boy.

“—but we understand that compassion might be needed in extenuating circumstances.”

Croft stepped forward and passed Fenn a piece of paper. “To that end, we’ve added a clause to all incoming employee contracts saying that if they make less than X amount per annum, we’ll pay for transportation to P29 if they’re terminated for any reason.”

Fenn only glanced at the paper before he allowed it to fall to his desk. “Forgive me, gentlemen, but how does that help them?”

Day looked at Byrick and Croft, but neither of them bothered to return the favor.

The sheriff continued, “Most of the workers you bring in aren’t from Vagus, and their markets are barely better than ours.”

“But their weather’s considerably more merciful,” Byrick said, “and water is a natural resource there.”

Croft added, “There are other companies that would be able to hire them.”

“Other companies,” Fenn said, “but no openings. Vagus is even further out from the central planets than we are, meaning transportation tickets will be almost as expensive. How are they supposed to get off Vagus once you put them there?”

Day said, “We chose Vagus because it was an improvement.”

“This is Ionu. Anywhere would be an improvement. You chose Vagus because it was the closest settled planet and the next stop for Turay’s ships. Considering your partnership, the tickets would be cheap.”

It was Croft that responded this time.

“And what would you have us do, Sheriff? Exactly how much financial responsibility do you think Ashtell should shoulder on behalf of these people? Especially considering the fact we owe them nothing.”

“If you’re doing it in the name of compassion, perhaps you could see your way to offering them a choice among P29, P31, and Damon.”

Day sputtered, “Damon? But that’s a—”

Mr. Jiho Day must have been a well-trained business man indeed. Fenn barely even heard the soft noise the lawyer made in his throat, but Day fell silent without uttering another syllable.

Byrick’s booming laugh broke the awkward silence.

“Well, why not? I think that’s a reasonable enough request.”

“Mr. Byrick—” Croft started.

“Come on, Mason. We both know that Fenn wouldn’t even suggest doing something illegal, so I have no problem shipping them to a free-plane if that’s where they want to be.”

“The board only agreed to Vagus,” Day said.

“Are we really going to pretend they won’t write off every last ticket on their taxes? Day, you must see the man has a point.”

Day’s scowl was gone by the time he looked up at Fenn. “Yes, Sheriff. I think we could arrange that.”

Byrick leaned forward and put his arm on Jun’s desk. “You see, Sheriff. We’re doing our best to get along with you. We fired all the people you wanted us to, and now, if we have to fire anymore, we’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about them.”

“I didn’t ask you to fire those people,” Fenn said, “and they weren’t the ones I was worried about.”

“Are you saying you didn’t want them to go? You seemed pretty unhappy about their abuse of power.”

Day twitched. “What’s this?”

Croft sighed. “It’s nothing, Mr. Day. Some managers were using their positions to threaten and coerce some of the people beneath them.”

“Rape them, Mr. Croft,” Fenn said.

“There were allegations of one or two managers demanding sexual favors from workers or women associated with male workers. The rest was more standard managerial bullying.”

“They threatened to fire anyone who didn’t comply—anyone they didn’t like.”

The lawyer looked pointedly at the Sheriff. “But the moment such behavior came to our attention, those people were removed from their positions.”

Day looked between the Sheriff and the lawyer. “So this is dealt with?”

“Oh, yes,” Fenn admitted. “They’re all gone, and I’m no longer investigating them.”

Byrick was smiling again. “As I was saying, Sheriff, we’re doing our best to work with you. I hope someday you’ll think to come to me if there’s a problem. You don’t have to try to do everything on your own, you know.”

“I won’t forget you said that, Mr. Byrick.”

When Fenn stood up, Day and Byrick did the same.

“Thank you for stopping by in person, gentlemen,” Fenn said, “but I’m afraid I have a rather long day ahead of me.”

There was a knock at his office door. Creed opened it enough the sheriff could see him.

Fenn finished with, “My deputy will see you out.”

Before he departed, Byrick said over his shoulder, “Do be careful, Sheriff. I hate to see you get hurt.”

They were led out through the empty lobby and released into the sweltering Ionu air.

Day pulled at his collar, but he didn’t complain. If the sun was up, that meant the streets were empty, and he could say whatever he wanted.

“Ungrateful little shit.”

“I know you wouldn’t talk about me like that,” Byrick said, “so I have to assume you mean Fenn.”

“We solved his problem for him, but does he thank us? No! He criticizes our solution.”

“Ah, but we didn’t really solve the problem, did we? We transferred it to another planet.”

“So what? At least they wouldn’t be dying on his streets!”

“Jun Fenn doesn’t think that way,” Croft said.

“He’s a goddamn peacekeeper. He shouldn’t be thinking at all! Take care of him.”

“We are taking care of him,” Byrick said.

“That’s not how you normally take care of people, Ian.”

“Fenn needs to be handled with a little more care.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you remember, Mr. Day?” Croft said. “You got a call from a senator about Fenn’s budget problems.”

Day’s mouth snapped shut.

Croft went on, “The man has friends, and he’s in constant contact with them.”

Day said, “Then what are you going to do about him, Mr. Mason Croft, esquire?”

The lawyer was unimpressed by his superior’s frustration. “We’ve been working toward a more permanent solution. Give us enough time and he won’t be a problem.”

Day snorted to show his contempt, then left the two of them to head back to the company apartments.

Byrick and Croft watched him go.

“He’ll be gone by tomorrow,” the lawyer said, “and he won’t think of us again until something else inconveniences him.”

“Bad form, Croft,” Byrick said. “You saw his clothes! He’ll be gone by tonight.”

The lawyer’s laugh came out as a quiet pffh sound.

The two men walked toward Ashtell’s central hub. The building would’ve been modest on any other planet, but on Ionu it stood out against the orange landscape as an alien monument, all charcoal-colored steel and massive gray windows. The windows alone were a statement. Here is the money! Who else could afford to cool such a building?

Gazing up at it always made Byrick reflective.

“This planet changes the way you think,” he muttered. “It teaches you things.”

“What things?” Croft said.

“It teaches you what matters—what’s real.”

“And what’s that?”

“Power, Croft. Everything else falls aside when a man has to confront real power in a place where no one lives without help.”

“So we become the ultimate pragmatists?”

“Yes.”

“Ian, what happened to Fenn?”

“Let Okoth deal with it, Mason.”

The lawyer frowned. Yes. Those injuries looked like Okoth’s work. “I asked you to be patient.”

“I am being patient,” Byrick said. “I have been patient. But this planet has a few things to teach that man.”

“That stunt cost us Edsen. If you had talked to me—”

“Edsen was no one.”

“I won’t argue with that, but he was still our best way of watching Fenn.”

“Then find another way.”

Croft bit back his initial reply and replaced it with calmer words. “I’ll work on it. In the meantime, someone should follow up with Okoth.”

Byrick eyed the lawyer. “Why?”

“Because he’s stupid, and I don’t trust him.”

Ian laughed. “Fine then. I was trying to spare you work, but you seem to be addicted to it. Do you even go home at night?”

“All I have to do is stay until five minutes after you leave, Mr. Byrick. That’s how you get a reputation for industry.”