Free Originator by Joel Shepherd Page B

friends’ pockets,” Danya remarked, “but not your enemies’?”
    Svetlana gave him a look of feigned innocence. “You say that like it wouldn’t come in handy?”
    â€œSure,” said Danya, repressing a smile that hinted at many in-jokes and old stories between them. “Depending on whose side you’re on.”
    Svetlana made an amused-but-not-entirely face at him. Danya’s return expression suggested an older brother’s amused-but-skeptical judgement. He held it long enough for Svetlana to get annoyed and stick her tongue out at him. Danya rolled his eyes just a little. Svetlana jerked her head back at the TV screen in a “shut up and watch” motion. A few seconds, a few facial expressions, Danya and Svetlana could have entire conversations without speaking a word.
    The next show was familiar, Rinni and Pasha , a Tanushan institution. They were best friends in school, a boy and a girl, who liked being proper best friends so much they resisted becoming boyfriend and girlfriend . . . but obviously that wasn’t going to last, even if they were the only ones who couldn’t see it. Even Danya had to admit it was a good show, lots of laughs and some genuinely thoughtful stuff about how people related to each other. Sandy found it sad, because it reminded her of two GIs she’d barely known as friends and had lost immediately upon meeting. This had been their favourite show too. Eduardo and Anya, also a boy and a girl. Best friends in their short lives, but born to die, for the League’s desperate uplink experiments on Pantala.
    When it finished, Danya muted the TV. “You going back to work, Sandy?”
    Sandy nodded. From the others’ lack of surprise, she guessed he’d already told them she would be. “Yeah. It’s a bit crazy at the moment. I just wanted to come back for breakfast.” She took a deep breath. “Kiri? I have to ask you something.”
    She surfed net activity on her way back to HQ, as was her habit. Tanusha was still Tanusha; there was still more interest in football scores and celebrity gossip than in the violent death of a League moon. But those sources that were covering it were doing a surprisingly sober job. Sandy supposed there weren’t many ways you could sensationalise the death of Cresta. An entire moon had been destroyed, or as good as. It was already too sensational, on a level that wasn’t any fun.
    She played the latest HQ official briefing over the top of her other surfing, watching five things at once as the weather turned bad, and a morning storm buffeted the cruiser with sheets of rain across the windshield. Amirah took it, of course—she was the official face of the FSA these days, and she was brilliant at it.
    â€œ Can you give us any idea of who killed Cresta? ” one of the journalists in the press room was asking her.
    â€œ No ,” said Amirah.
    â€œ Can you at least tell us if you yourselves are aware of who killed Cresta? ”
    â€œ No ,” said Amirah. “ Look, this is just too serious for anyone to be making offthe-cuff remarks right now. I know the media in Tanusha has a lot of very good sources who know the League quite well, and I can only suggest that you ask most of your questions of those people. Our job, in this building, is Federal Security. We’re not a media information service .”
    If she’d said something like that, Sandy thought, people would have grumbled about insensitivity to the people’s right to know and made accusations of her supposed “authoritarian streak,” followed by mutterings of “fascist tendencies.” But Amirah was just too cute. Some sections of the public refused to believe she was a GI, let alone a combat GI. She was slim with a hooked nose and a cheeky grin, and had turned down a combat job in preference for administration. Sandy thought a lot of the public reaction was just shock that so