Demon's Dream
Page 4

Kevis' day had been full and it was very late. He'd not gotten to record his notes on Reah's sessions until now. He was quite surprised when two men appeared in his study, pistols drawn and both growling.
"You came with the highest recommendation," Norian snapped at Kevis Halivar. "Yet I see Reah in a session on a vid program after my agents notified me. Her face isn't even hidden. We have the records of who submitted it; we've spent the last two clicks grilling that stupid fuck producer who aired it. He claims a technical glitch kept her face from being hidden on the program. I want to speak with two of your nurses, now. Where are Ceerah Kade and Jalan Wolk? They couldn't wait to send this in to that stupid program."
"Here they are," two of Norian's agents hauled Ceerah and Jalan into Kevis' private study. Kevis stared angrily at both women.
"Who are you?" Ceerah snapped at Norian, who still held a Ranos pistol in his hand.
"Norian Keef, Director of the ASD," Norian snapped back. "You're both under arrest for violating the patient confidentiality laws."
"There's no way that loony is ASD," Ceerah scoffed.
"Shut up," Norian said pleasantly. "If you don't, I'll allow my Vice-Director here to remove your face."
"What the hell is going on?" Gavril, Tory and Ry appeared all at once, almost causing Jalan to shriek. Ceerah stared. One of the three looked like Teeg San Gerxon, Founder of the Campiaan Alliance.
Gavril was the one who spoke. He was seething and about to let his vampire run free. "We leave her in your care and a few evenings later her face is splashed across the Reth Alliance and she's made a laughing stock? The entire Alliance has seen those vids. They think she's completely crazy. What do you think will happen if Reah sees that? She's been betrayed enough as it is." Gavril was shouting, Tory was blowing smoke and Ry was about to place a spell on someone.
"Ceerah, you managed to get past the private codes, didn't you?" Kevis glared at his head nurse. "How long has this been going on?"
"I won't tell you." She turned her head away. She'd thought at times in the past that perhaps she could convince Kevis to fall for her. That desire had been a vain one.
"Two years," Jalan hung her head. "Only we just sat and watched the funny ones until now. This one; we thought we wouldn't get caught."
"Shut up," Ceerah hissed.
"You broke into the records," Jalan snapped at Ceerah.
"You submitted it to Temporary Insanity," Ceerah shot back.
Norian watched the exchange with interest. No need for questioning if the information was volunteered freely.
"I wish to ask for extradition," Gavril said, anger still in his voice.
"Extradition?" Kevis asked.
"To Campiaa. These two have violated a citizen's rights. I have the right by law to request extradition and place them on trial. Reah didn't give permission for her image to be used while under treatment. In fact, a responsible party should have been approached for permission. Was that done? I understand she only arrived at this facility six days ago."
"Jalan, this is Teeg San Gerxon, from the Campiaan Alliance," Kevis said wearily and sat behind his desk. He felt as if he needed a stiff drink.
"If they aren't extradited, I will certainly lodge a protest with the founding member of the Reth Alliance," Ry said.
"And this is Rylend Morphis, newly crowned King of Karathia," Kevis wasn't even looking up from his desk any longer.
"If I admit I signed off on it, will that keep me here?" Jalan asked. "I couldn't get the vid submitted unless I did. I signed that Nefrigar guy's name."
"You forged documents, after this one broke into private patient records and handed them to you?" Kevis raked a hand through short, light-brown hair.
"You forged a Larentii's signature?" Lendill stared at Jalan.
"A Larentii? They don't exist," Ceerah laughed.
"I altered my appearance only for her when we arrived," Nefrigar appeared, his height crowding the room. He wasn't altering his appearance now.
"Oh, stars save us," Ceerah stared up at Nefrigar in horror.
"Something may have to save you. Reah saw that program and has disappeared again," Nefrigar said.
Chapter 2
I'd only been to Avendor once before, skipping there more than twenty-five years earlier to learn how to grow gishi fruit. Now I was back and standing in a line of migratory workers who went from one grove to the next, offering their services to pick, pack, cull or ship the fruit. I was searching for a place that might hold peace, even if it did involve hard work. I'd always found picking fruit to be peaceful work; the trees held no judgment or betrayal. They never withheld information or love, either, with wind whispering through the leaves at times, giving silent thanks for the care they received.
"Name?" The grove supervisor was tired and out of sorts, I think, by the time I arrived in front of his makeshift desk.
"Reah Silver," I said.
"Have you worked the groves before?"
"Yes. In every aspect."
"Good. You'll start picking immediately. Sign here." The comp-vid was shoved across the small table; I used the stylus to sign my name and went to stand with the others who waited for the next bus to come along. I had both bags with me—I hadn't left anything behind on Refizan. If the doctor couldn't control his staff any better than he had, then I had no use for him. Nefrigar had difficulty coaxing me back the first time. I wouldn't go back there again.
The hovertruck pulled to a stop in front of us and we all loaded onto it. "We'll take you by the temporary housing first, so you can unload your belongings. Then you'll get your hoversteps and go to the fields." At least they had hoversteps. Hoversteps were round ladders you could operate with hand or foot controls to raise, lower or navigate around the tree to reach all the fruit. They were a great time saver, if you could afford them. Another crew would likely supply empty crates to replace the ones the pickers filled.
"Select a cube inside, leave your things and come back immediately," the driver dropped us off in front of rows of temporary housing. Long, single-story buildings lined up before us, each with a communal shower, restroom and laundry facilities. My coworkers ran toward the first two buildings. Not wishing to fight with the crowd, I walked toward the third and last of the buildings. Three others came with me.
Dumping my bags in a cubicle at the farthest end of the building, I made my way toward the hovertruck again. Only open seating was available on the back of the truck, with hard benches lined up on both sides to carry the workers. Our feet swung freely over the sides as the hovertruck glided through the groves, taking us toward the designated harvest spot. The trees we passed had already been picked.
"Here's where you start," the driver announced. "And this is supervisor Keedan, who will hand out your assignments."
Supervisor Keedan looked to be nearing two hundred, with nearly white hair, washed-out blue eyes and wrinkles that spelled character. I imagined that his eyes might crinkle nicely if he smiled. He wasn't smiling now.
"You're our replacement crew," he announced as we gathered around him. "The last crew was fired, every one of them, because they were stealing from the groves. If you think to do that, bear in mind we will prosecute. The last crew is sitting in jail at the moment, awaiting trial for high theft. Gishi fruit is expensive; I'm sure all of you know that. We don't tolerate theft or mistreatment of your fellow workers or harmful practical jokes. You will be assigned a hoverstep, and it will be your responsibility to maintain it and charge it every night. If it breaks down or malfunctions, it is your duty to take it to the repair shop located near your temporary barracks. Food will be supplied for your day meal, but you will prepare the evening meal yourselves. Ingredients for those meals will be provided—within reason. Each barracks has a kitchen and you are obligated to work out a rotating cooking schedule. Fights will not be tolerated and the sharing of duties is expected. Bear in mind that we will terminate your employment immediately if you disrupt the peace of the groves. Follow me."
We followed Keedan until we reached a place where hoversteps waited between seemingly endless rows of gishi fruit trees. Crates were also lined up at regular intervals between trees. "Choose your hoverstep," Keedan instructed. "You will be expected to finish your row by sunset. That is five clicks from now. I will be waiting at the end and checking the fruit that comes from your individual rows. If you can't pick fast enough, you will be released tonight. Go."
We went. Most went scrabbling after the hoversteps closest to us and began clipping fruit from the trees right away. I and the three who'd bunked in the same building went for the outer edge. I took the last row. Hand clips and other supplies were stuffed in pockets around the hoverstep, including a sealed container with plenty of cool water. At least they were prepared. I pulled my crate up, lifted the hand clip and began picking.
Culls were dropped to the ground and the fruit without blemishes went into individual trays inside each crate. The trays were formed to fit gishi fruit and protected the harvested fruit when the next tray was set atop it. I worked as I always did, swiftly and steadily.
With more than twenty turns of experience handpicking gishi fruit on Kifirin, I knew what I was doing. When the trackers learned that I needed more crates than had been left, they stepped up their pace, leaving me as many as necessary to keep up with my picking. I paid no attention to those harvesting around me, humming softly as I settled into the work.
The three who'd gone to the outer edge just as I had, finished shortly after I did. I knew they had experience, whereas some of the others didn't. Gishi fruit harvests generally paid much better than any other type of fruit crop, and good, experienced pickers were often easy to spot. The fruit was much more rare and expensive than nannas, oranges or peaches in any case, and required a certain type of handling as well. You didn't squeeze gishi fruit when you clipped the stem. It would bruise if handled too roughly and cut the price of the fruit by more than half.