"I told you he wasn't very cooperative," Dunlop commented as the three of them stopped a few meters down the hall.
"Uh-huh. What sort of charges have you filed against him?"
"Incitement, congregation with felony intent—a couple other minor charges.
Object lesson stuff, mostly."
"I want them dropped. Miss Olivero—"
"All of them?" Dunlop looked nonplussed.
"That's right. What's the problem?—If my investigation indicates he's guilty of something, we can always charge him later. It isn't like he can skip town or something. Miss Olivero, I want you to go back in there and talk to Perez."
Carmen turned wide eyes on him. "Me, Colonel? But I don't know anything about interrogation methods."
"I don't want you to interrogate him, just to talk with him awhile," Meredith explained patiently. "Find out what exactly his complaints are, for starters. Let him know we're not out to scapegoat him or anyone else. You're a civilian; maybe he'll be more open with you."
Carmen's lip twitched, but she nodded. "All right. I'll … try." Stepping back to the guards, she took a deep breath, tapped once on the door, and went in.
"Keep an ear out for trouble," Dunlop advised the soldiers quietly.
"There won't be any," Meredith told him. "Let's go, Major—we have a lot to talk about."
Perez's first surprise was that someone was coming in so soon after the colonel's party had left; his second surprise was that the visitor bothered to knock. Prying his eyelids up against his fatigue, he watched the woman close the door behind her and stand with her back to it. For a moment there was silence as they eyed each other. "How do you feel?" she said at last.
"Tired, mainly," he answered, wondering idly about her background. From looks alone she could be fresh from Guadalajara, but her speech was definitely middleclass American. Second generation, perhaps, whose parents had become respectable before the flood of illegal refugees from the 2011 Mexican collapse had made "Hispanic" a curse-word again? "Most of the pain's gone."
She nodded. "Good. Uh—my name's Carmen Olivero."
"Honored. Meredith send you in to wring a confession from me?"
Some of her nervousness seemed to vanish, to be replaced by coolness. "Hardly.
The colonel has gone with Major Dunlop to get the charges against you dropped.
He asked me to find out what your complaints are—assuming you want them addressed, that is, and aren't just using them as an excuse to riot."
"We weren't rioting!" he snapped, the outburst intensifying the pain behind his eyeballs. "We wanted to complain about the lousy conditions in Ceres and the damn soldiers fired on us." He stopped abruptly as she took a half step backward, her hand reaching for the door knob. Good job, Perez, he berated himself silently.
You wanted a sympathetic ear, and now you're trying to bite it off. "You say he's dropping the charges?" he asked in a more reasonable tone.
She regarded him uncertainly, her hand on the knob. "That's what he said."
"Very kind of him." Moved by an obscure feeling, Perez forced himself to a more dignified sitting position, sliding back so that he could lean against the wall. "I'm sorry I blew up a minute ago. I've never been wild about pain." He waved to the desk chair. "Please sit down?"
She hesitated only a second before stepping to the chair and sinking a bit tentatively into it. "So … what is it you don't like about this place?"
He snorted. "The list would fill a disk," he said. "As far as I'm concerned it would have made more sense to colonize the South Sahara. I've never understood why the UN wanted to pour so much money and effort into Astra in the first place."
"If you felt like that, why did you sign up?"
I volunteered because many of my people were coming. Many of them, on the other hand, didn't truly volunteer."
Her eyes widened momentarily, then settled into cool disbelief. "You have any proof of this?"
He shook his head. "Nothing that would be seen as such. And don't misunderstand me: I'm not saying they were kidnapped and loaded aboard trucks for the training center. The pressure was much more subtle than that—portrayal of Astra as a new beginning, the land of opportunity and freedom that the U.S. had turned out not to be, plus the implication that life would be getting harder if not enough of us volunteered. We were painted a rosy picture—can you blame us for being unhappy with the housing and working conditions we've been put into here?"
"This is a brand-new world. Did you expect to find hotels and theaters waiting for you?"
"I expected exactly what is here—a continuation of the social injustices I was already tired of."
"Everybody's had to make sacrifices—"
"But some aren't making nearly as many as others," he shot back. "Are the scientists living three and four to a house? The soldiers? How many Anglos are going out in the fields tomorrow, planting crops by hand because the extra machinery is still packed into their crates?"
"All right, then," she said after a short silence. "Assume for the moment that you're right. What do you suggest be done?"
"For now, a sincere commitment to improve conditions in Ceres would probably be enough. We're not stupid—we know you can't build new houses overnight. If you could get us another couple of hologames for the rec center, that would be a nice gesture." Perez paused as a flicker of surprise crossed Carmen's face.
Probably expected some wildly impractical scheme for turning Ceres into Little Mexico, he thought. Well, enjoy it while you can, because here comes the bite.
"And I think Major Dunlop has proved he has no real feeling for the people here.
He should be transferred and someone else put in charge."
Carmen's pleased/surprised expression vanished. "Oh, you think that, do you?" she asked coolly. "Do you want to suggest a replacement while you're at it?"
"Not necessarily. But why are you suddenly so hostile? I thought United States citizens had the right to choose their own leaders."
"Don't play word games," she snorted. "You know perfectly well that you gave up certain rights when you volunteered for this trip."
"Perhaps," he shrugged, locking eyes with her. "But having spent time in the Army myself, I can tell you that people grow tired of military rule very quickly. I think that Colonel Meredith would be wise to consider what he'll do when that happens."
Her face darkened still further, but before she could speak, the door was opened and one of the guards peered in. "Olivero? Colonel Meredith's ready for you."
"All right." Carmen stood up—with more than a trace of relief, Perez thought—and went to the door. There, she paused and looked back. "I'll tell the colonel what you said. But no promises."
He was still sorting out the possibilities when the soldiers came to turn him loose.
The drive back to Unie was long, dusty, and quiet. Meredith kept his eyes on the patch of lighted road ahead of them, his brooding silence stifling all other conversation in the car. Which was fine with him: most of the team's reports could wait until they were officially filed onto the computer, and the single exception could wait until they reached the privacy of his office.
The lights in the admin complex were still burning when Andrews pulled the car to a stop in front of it—one more reminder that there were a war's worth of details still waiting to be handled. "Your reports are due by oh-nine-hundred tomorrow,"
Meredith told the group as he opened his door and climbed out. "Miss Olivero, come with me; the rest of you are dismissed."