CHAPTER 51
JET
Oh, I don’t believe in bad news. It’s all in how we process information. Keeping a good attitude is all you need to do, no matter what the circumstances.
Celestina, to a reporter during a press conference
Forgot to tell you,” Terry said brightly. “Bruce is running late. Hee, I made a joke! Running late!”
Jet smiled as she accepted the cup of tea, but her stomach was heaving. Why was he late today, of all days? Was it because of what happened yesterday? No, nonsense. He was a professional Runner.
Whom she’d slept with. Oh, Light, she was in trouble.
“I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as he can,” Jet said casually. “If it’s a problem for you, Terry, why don’t you pack it in? I’ll be okay on my own.”
Terry grinned. “Right, I bet. Bruce clued me in on your sneaking out of bed to help save a little old lady.” She clucked her tongue. “You’re on bed rest, Jet.”
“Just for one more day,” she said around her smile, trying not to growl.
“Exactly. For one more day. You’re following doctor’s orders. At least, you are when I’m on duty.”
Chagrined, Jet sipped her tea. Terry smiled over her victory and left Jet alone.
Oh boy, she was in a lot of trouble.
How could she have slept with Bruce? What had she been thinking?
Well, that was easy. She’d been thinking how sexy he was, and how horny she was, and how his lips were so enticing and his eyes so electric …
Right. It was thoughts like that, that got her into trouble in the first place.
She had to tell Corp. What she’d done was strictly against policy. Bruce could sue her for sexual harassment.
Then again, he hadn’t been complaining yesterday. And he’d been the one who’d instigated. It wasn’t her fault.
She let out a bitter laugh. Yeah, that would play real well. How many times had criminals wailed that it hadn’t been their fault?
Grow up, Jet. When he gets here, you’ll talk to him. Like a grown-up. And you’ll figure it out from there.
She finished her tea and set the cup down. Nothing to do but wait for Bruce to arrive. And then they’d talk.
And maybe they’d do more than talk …
Stop that.
To pass the time, she picked up the paperback romance on her nightstand. After reading the same passage three times without really seeing what she was reading, Jet put the book down.
Instead of thinking about Bruce, her mind was focused on Iridium.
Joannie, you’re hurt. Bad. Is heroing worth tearing yourself apart?
Callie had said that to her. She had been nearly delirious from pain, but it had still penetrated.
Iri had wanted to help her.
Jet’s head started to throb, so she leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes. It made no sense. Iridium was rabid. Iridium didn’t give a damn about her, about everything heroes stood for. She’d proven that five years ago. All Iridium cared about was Iridium.
And yet …
You can either get in my way and be burned by my strobe, Iridium said, cocky and arrogant, then when Jet tried to bat the ball of ever-brightening light away, she’d hissed: Careful, that’s over a thousand BTUs of heat!
Iridium didn’t have to warn her. Iridium could have let her get burned.
But when Jet had wrapped her in Shadow and Iridium had cried out, had begged for her to stop, Jet let her go … and Iridium had sucker punched her.
Iridium didn’t give a damn about her.
And yet …
I am smarter than you, Jet, especially now. I’m not going to warn you again.
Why had Iridium warned her? If Iri really cared, then why was she a rabid? Why did she turn her back on the Academy and Corp all those years ago? Why had she turned her back on Jet?
And what had Iridium been doing in the tunnels? She couldn’t be working for Everyman. She couldn’t. Not after Third Year.
Maybe something with the Undergoths?
Or …
She hissed in a breath, doubled over. Oh, by the Light, her head hurt.
Wincing, Jet rubbed her temples, fought off a maddening urge to put in her comlink. As if that would help. She reached over to her nightstand and turned up the volume on the white-noise setting. “Babbling Brook” filled her ears, but did nothing to ease the pounding in her head.
She grabbed the phone—audio only; she couldn’t get to the actual vidphone in the kitchen, not with Terry herefrom her nightstand and punched in Night’s direct extension. When his familiar cold voice answered, she said, “Hey, old man.”
“Joan.” He sounded either surprised or irked. “How’re you feeling?”
“Fine, sir. Eager to get out of bed and back into uniform.”
“I understand. Did I ever tell you about the time Mister Mystery laid me up for the better part of a month? Very frustrating. I was fresh out of the Academy when it happened too. And … there we go. Clean channel. What is it, Jet?”
“Sir, I need you to tell me why I’m not pursuing Everyman. Why we’re cleaning out the Rat Network.”
“We’ve been through this.”
“No, sir, not really. You haven’t told me why, just what.” She closed her eyes, saw Iri’s face. “Why are we using Iridium like this?”
“‘Using Iridium’?”
His tone made her flinch.
“We are not using her. She is an excuse, yes. But we most certainly aren’t using her.”
“But she had nothing to do with Lynda Kidder’s abduction.” Or her death.
“She walked away from the Academy, from you, long ago. She’s a criminal, like her father. You have to push aside old friendships and commit yourself to the only course of action that matters.”
“But why aren’t we going after Everyman?”
“Because that’s suicide, Jet.”
It’s suicide, Martin Moore agreed, sounding grave. Or, depending on how many humans are around you when you finally go, homicide.
“Corp has a quiet agreement with the Society,” Night said. “We leave them alone, and other than sound and fury, they follow suit.”
“But,” she spluttered, her mind unwilling to grasp what Night was saying, “but how could that be?” She remembered Wurtham’s scorn when they’d appeared together on the Goldwater show, the look of pure loathing in his eyes. “They hate us. They’d never work with us. And Corp would never condone such a thing.”
In her mind, Moore laughed. Who do you think did this to you in the first place?
“Jet,” Night said, “it’s been this way for years. Haven’t you ever wondered why there hadn’t been another assault from Everyman since Samson died?”
“But Martin Moore—”
“Belongs to a fringe organization of the Society. We know, Jet. The EC is hunting him down, with the Society’s help. Quietly. This is an embarrassment to both organizations.”
At least I’m not being deluded by a megalomaniacal organization bent on ruling the world.
“How could Corp work with Everyman?” she asked, her voice breaking. “It’s wrong, it’s—”
“It’s business, Jet. Just business.”
She clenched her fist. “It’s untenable.”
After a long pause, he said, “I understand your rage.” His voice was quiet, and utterly terrifying. “Trust me, I understand. And a reckoning will come.”
Her stomach knotted. “A … reckoning?”
“Soon. A little more patience, Jet. You concentrate on healing. I need you at full strength.”
She whispered, “For what, sir?”
“To stand at my side, little Shadow. To stand at my side.”