“Jolene, stop it!” Jamie pointed at Dreenagh, “I’m trying to watch.”
Vera hugged her grief-ridden son and screamed at Dreenagh. “My God. Is this some kind of sick joke?”
“No, Vera. I’m afraid not.”
“It is a lie,” she unhanded Remy and stood up from the couch, “You media, you are all the same. Nothing but sensation and lies.”
“Well, I’m sorry but—”
“—Get out of my house, you scheming cow.”
Dreenagh’s transparent image stood up and held out her hands. “I’m not in your house, technically.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she barked back and pointed at Remy sobbing against a cushion, “You invade my home. You come here, spreading lies with actors with stupid colored hair.”
“I can assure you I am not lying, Vera. Look,” Dreenagh displayed her forearm. The ink swirled around to form a number: 1.4M.
“See that?” Dreenagh asked.
“Yes?”
“That’s how many viewers across the world are watching right now. Don’t you think just one of them might have something to say if they knew it to be false?”
The woman had a point. Remy was way, way ahead of his mother in the grieving process. Granted, that was down to adolescent naivety on his part but, nevertheless, an accurate and fair distance ahead of his mother’s reasoning.
“Bisoubisou died right there at the Star Cat Trial finals, Vera,” Dreenagh said as she watched the dizzied Russian woman slump to the couch. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”
“They killed her!” Remy hyperventilated through his sobs, “They killed my cat—”
“—Vera, you think the assassination of Viktor Rabinovich and the subsequent expulsion of twenty-three Russian diplomats was a coincidence?” Dreenagh tried to bring the woman to her senses. “Do you see how this ties together?
Vera stared at the floor in bewilderment. “How could I have been so blind?”
“You may hate me, Vera, and that’s fine. But I’m a journalist,” Dreenagh smiled at her drone and gave it a sly wink, “My job is to report the truth. You saw it here first, viewers.”
Jamie couldn’t decide which of the three images were more compelling.
Remy, with the look of fear and devastation on his face.
Vera, in the midst of coming around to the idea that her life and career was over.
Or Dreenagh Remix, and her desire for fame and fortune at the expense of tearing a family apart with the truth.
It was at this moment that Jamie Anderson realized two things:
1: The world didn’t work the way he thought it did. The same could be said for the universe at large but there was no time to expatiate on it. The world suddenly showed its playing cards as the ruthless, vindictive and painful place it had always been. The same place his mother and, until a few years ago, his biological father had tried to shield from his innocent eyes.
2: Bisoubisou’s death and subsequent absence was known to him and his mother. Jelly went in her place after accidentally murdering her. Actually, murder, he thought, was a complete misnomer. She was merely defending herself and fought for honor. At the time Jelly was signed up, he and his mother signed a contract non-disclosure agreement. Judging by the Gagarin family interview, it seemed they had avoided a major hassle. Jamie and his mother received the prize money. When he turned eighteen he’d be in receipt of the bulk of it.
A thought occurred to him as he sat in the carpet.
If everyone now knew that Bisoubisou didn’t join Opera Beta – who did?
He assumed that anyone wanting answers – which was everyone and their grandmother – would come knocking at the Anderson household looking for answers.
One such feisty journalist named Dreenagh Remix could be the first of them.
“Mom, Mom,” Jamie climbed to his feet and ran out of the front room. He used the sound of his mother’s sobbing as route to find where she was. “Mom!”
Tony stepped into Jamie’s path, preventing him from reaching the bedroom. “Hey, son. She’s a bit upset. Give her a few minutes, okay?”
“No, Tony. This is really—”
“—Don’t call me Tony. I’m your father.”
“You’re not my real dad,” he barged past and nearly made the door, only to be caught by the back of the shirt. Tony crouched down and glanced at his vindictive little stepchild in the eyes.
“What did you just say?”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“—I’d appreciate it if you referred to me as Dad,” Tony finished, noticing Jamie was desperate to get to his mother. “What’s wrong?”
Jamie raised his eyebrows with great sincerity. “If everyone knows Remy’s cat didn’t go to Saturn they might think Jelly went, instead. Everyone still thinks she’s the runner-up”
The boy had a hell of a point. The knock-on consequences of this revelation smacked Tony in the face. “You’re right.”
He stood up straight and made for the bedroom with Jamie’s hand in his. “Come on, son, let’s go tell her.”
Emily’s incessant sobbing flew out of the bedroom and showed no sign of halting.
Tony peered around the door, not wanting to disturb her moment of sadness. “Emily?”
Jamie looked up at him with an cherubic smile. His stepfather couldn’t help but feel a shudder roll down his spine. Moments ago he viewed Jamie as just an average little boy. Now, with the astonishing connection he’d made, the little boy seemed more mature.
Certainly wiser…
USARIC’s R&D institute, much like its headquarters at Cape Claudius, was so big it had its own zip code. Maar had become the sole major shareholder of the company now that Dimitri Vasilov was no longer breathing.
The research and development institute housed hangers designed to test thruster and engine capabilities. Much of Manning/Synapse’s beta testing of the Androgyne series with the American Star Fleet had taken place at this location.
This evening, it served as a discreet embassy to protect the one man who’d yet to be assassinated – Maar Sheck.
He stepped out of the tubular elevator cage and into a vast scientific laboratory.
Like the animal compound at USARIC HQ this clandestine set-up was as sinister, if not more so. Though he rarely frequented the science division (the nerds and tech-heads had that all covered) he always marveled at the technology on display.
No such luxuries could be afforded now, though, as Kaoz marched him and Crain along the observatory gangway several feet above the work parapet.
“How long do I have to stay down here?” Maar walked past a colossal slab of ceramic being polished by six men wearing breathing apparatus.
“As long as it takes, Maar,” Kaoz said. “News has just broken of what’s happened, so you’ll be down here for at least another couple of months.”
“Couple of months?”
“At least.”
“Ugh, this is a nightmare.”
“Unless you want to go up for air and risk getting your head blown off, then yes.”
“God damn it,” Maar pointed at the dead of a wall at the end of the gangway. A dim red bulb rotated just above it. “Are they here?”
“Yes.”
Maar continued down the metal strip and waved them on. “Good, I want a full report on the subject capture, please. They better have good news for me.”