Page 44 of Border Control

“Hm, I guess.” She rests her head on the wheel she uses to turn the craft. The soft leather creaks gently. “I don’t know why I brought you here. It can be a bit dodgy. I used to run here a lot until it became a bit dangerous, but it’s not even six in the evening and we’re inside a car.”

I scan the area, but there are no other humans around. Just warm glows from the houses behind us, and other vehicles passing with their front lights turned aside, focusing on their own journeys.

She slides back in her seat, turning the keys over in her slim, delicate fingers. “I like the moral of the story, I guess. Work hard and smart, get the girl. I’ve always worked hard, always been the one my friends turn to for advice, even when we were small. If I didn’t have the answer, I’d break it down and research it and get them on the right path. Nice, neat, simple. In control.”

I listen quietly, hardly daring to breathe. She’s baring herself to me, and I want to soak in every word so I can serve her.

Catching her own reflection in the window beside her, Law-rah meets her own eyes and lets out a sigh. “Arabella’s illness happened so quickly, and now she's gone.”

“She will be restored and returned to Earth,” I reassure her. “Gara is one of the best Selthiastocks, and he's taking her for more advanced treatment than even he can give. As a female, she will be afforded the best of care.”

“Thanks.” She runs her hands through her hair. “I'll still smack Gara when I see him, though.”

I stay quiet. Gara will never be seen again.

“On top of that… my boss, he's making it hard to stay focused on my work. Every time I see him, I want to wring his neck.”

“I will gladly perform the deed. Point him out to me, and he will die.”

She shakes her head with a chuckle. Why is she laughing?

“But the main thing is, the enquiry starts tomorrow. I can hardly believe it. It’s always seemed so impossibly far away, and yet it’s what everyone’s been waiting for. I’ve been working on it the last year and a half. Well. Longer than that.”

The space between us goes quiet again. “How much longer?” I ask.

Her hands tighten on the wheel, and it lets out a distressed creak. “In some ways, fifteen years.”

Fifteen cycles of this planet. “That is a significant effort. No wonder you need to rest.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t stop now, Dom. Far too many people are counting on me to reveal what happened, so they know who’s responsible for their derailed and, in most cases, shattered lives.”

“Is this… some kind of accident? A large transgression?”

“You could say that. How to explain…” Twisting in her seat to face me, she begins. “There’s a career called carers, and they care for people who find it difficult to look after themselves. The work is hard but rewarding, and usually attracts only the most empathetic.

“A government agency introduced a timesheet app, which people had on their phones.” She pulled hers out, its screen flashing briefly, illuminating her shaking hands. “Carers would log their time on the app, and get paid. It was supposed to help.

“Instead, it went wrong. The app logged multiple hours instead of one, or deleted entries randomly. But when the carers pointed out they were being under or overpaid, the company accused them of false entries, of trying to steal money from the program. Worse, many were fired for seeming to neglect their patients, because the record of their care visit wasn’t there. The government closed ranks behind its app, saying it wouldn’t ever be wrong, and instead pursued prosecution with dogged determination. Two hundred and seven convictions, overall, of innocent carers, the kindest of our society.”

Cold creeps down my scales. “Can these unjust sentences be overturned?”

“They have been. This inquiry is figuring out what went wrong, who knew what when, and where the buck stops.”

“The… buck?”

“I mean accountability.”

“I see. The true transgressor must be found.”

“And brought to justice for these wrongful convictions. They ruined lives, Dom, through… through ignorance, or inaction, or fear of speaking up, these carers went to jail, lost their careers, couldn’t find work through no fault of their own. And some of them? They weren’t able to take the shame of it.”

She’s breathing hard. The spikes grow, creeping under her skin, but she stares straight at me.

“You knew one of them,” I say, before I can think on the wisdom of my realisation.

“I… no, I’m not allowed to know any of them. I’ve got to be impartial. Separate.” She spins back to face the front window, misty rain fogging the view ahead. “Cold.”

“You could never be cold, Law-rah.” She may be frosty in her demeanor, but she brims with so much fire, she can’t help but ignite everyone around her with the same vigor.