looked around, taking in the moods and agendas of those in attendance and processing them all through her fine mill. Alex, who’d seen her testing run, knew she wasn’t positive for empathic skills, but her social intelligence was unrivaled. He had no doubt she’d long since classified him in her master schemata and decided how to manage him. Now she turned a smile his way. “How’s Jaguar?” she asked.
“Doing well,” he said. “You should go see her. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“It has,” she said. “We keep in touch, though.”
Regina was the only person from Planetoid One Jaguar still spoke with. Though they were miles apart in their vision for Planetoid work, they had a deep respect for each other. As the first female governor, Regina had claimed power within a very male dominated system, and so she’d been a role model for Jaguar. She was also, like Jaguar, a study in contradictions.
Though she didn’t approve of using the empathic arts with prisoners, she also didn’t believe empaths should be fired. That, for a brief time, made her Alex’s ally. When Jaguar faced dismissal for using psi capacities Regina supported his request to have her transferred to Planetoid Three instead. She was adamant about treating empaths without prejudice, but she was equally adamant about Jaguar leaving One. It wasn’t, she said, a direction they wanted to take.
“I wanted Jaguar to be here,” Regina said now. “The others made such a noise about it I decided it was more of a risk than a benefit.”
“Really? I’d think they’d welcome the chance to pound away at her.”
Regina tilted her head at him. “Don’t you know?
“I don’t even know why I’m here,” he said. “What happens to Francis has nothing to do with us, once the decision not to execute is rendered.”
Governor Richard Tremont approached Regina, touched her shoulder lightly. “Shouldn’t we begin?”
“Yes. Of course.” She turned her attention to the other occupants of the room. “If we could all be seated?”
There was general movement, followed by a general stillness as everyone settled in.
“This meeting,” she said, “will determine the best course of action to take in the matter of Francis Durero. First, we’ll hear suggestions. With any luck, discussion will lead to consensus.”
Alex bit back on a smile, thinking of what Jaguar said about consensus—that it was a way for one person to manipulate many others into their point of view. Regina, she admitted, was very good at it.
“We have no precedent,” Talek Malor from Planetoid Three said. “The codebook doesn’t say what to do if a Teacher speaks against execution. Just that the execution doesn’t take place, and governors should use discretion in determining what happens with the prisoner.”
“All the better,” said Susan Eideler, a Planetoid One Supervisor, and someone Alex knew as the ultimate conservative on a Planetoid of conservative thinkers. “That means we can do exactly as we please.”
Richard turned to her. “But what do we please?” he asked.
“That’s easy,” Susan said. “Send Dr. Addams to Planetoid One and let her figure it out.”
“Interesting,” Richard mused.
“Not a bad start,” Talek agreed.
Murmurs of approval went around the table and Alex suddenly understood why they didn’t want Jaguar here.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “This is about Francis, not Dr. Addams.”
All eyes turned to him, then back to Susan.
“He’s got a point,” Talek said.
“Yes,” Richard agreed. “We can’t let this look like it’s about her.”
“It won’t,” Susan said. “As the dissenting vote, she’ll assist in follow up investigation, conduct interviews, review evidence and so on. If she spends some time with Durero she’ll see what a killer he really is.”
Alex turned a shocked face to Regina, who shook her head lightly. This, too, shall pass, her expression said. All well and good, he thought, but he wouldn’t let Jaguar pass with it. He turned away from her and toward Paul Dinardo, who looked as shocked as he did.
“She’s under no obligation to resolve this,” Alex said. “She volunteered for the committee and rendered her considered opinion. If you want an investigation, hire an investigator.”
“I see your point, Alex,” Regina said softly, “but we really don’t want outside involvement in a matter that’s strictly internal.”
“Absolutely not,” Susan agreed. “You know how that goes. They’re way too ready to think we’re the mutoids and freaks.”
“And empaths,” Governor Karis from Planetoid Two added, looking at Alex.
“Well, I said freaks, didn’t I?” Susan said, and small laughter rolled around the table.
Alex sent a glare to Paul, who grimaced. Then he turned to the others. “Let the investigation come from Planetoid Two,” he said, looking at Karis. “You’re a neutral party.”
“It’s not our problem,” Karis said. “We spoke for execution.”
“Then this isn’t a meeting about procedure,” Alex said. “It’s an opportunity to pressure a dissenting voice into recanting. Is that it?” He surveyed the faces around him. “Is it?”
All eyes avoided his.
“Christ,” he muttered, “Almighty.”
“I would hope not,” Regina said firmly. “It would be an egregious error to do so.”
“I agree,” Paul chimed in. “Absolutely eg—what Regina says. And Alex is right. It’s nothing to do with her. Besides, you don’t really want her running around loose on One, do you?”
There was some uncomfortable shifting. Paul hit the nail on the head with that, Alex thought. But to his surprise, Regina intervened, and not in a good way.
“Alex, it does makes sense to have the dissenting voice investigate,” she said. “Dr. Addams saw something we missed. Perhaps she could clarify the situation.”
Everyone except Paul brightened at her words. Alex felt a sinking in his stomach.
“Not in these conditions,” he countered. “She’d be off her turf, working with people who are upset at her decision and her attitude about policy on your Planetoid.”
Everyone here knew about Jaguar’s disapproval of the work programs. More than once, with her usual preference for honesty over tact, she’d called them sanctified slave labor.
“Her attitude isn’t the problem,” Susan said. “It’s her mouth. She keeps talking when she doesn’t know anything. Maybe if she goes back she’ll learn better.”
“That’s
