Page 7 of Xel: Broken Bond
“I’ll make myself scarce,” I said, avoiding her gaze. If I gave her the slightest opening, she’d try to get me to stay and talk tothe visitors. And there was no way in hell I was going to do that. “The thumbit pen needs a thorough clean out. That’ll keep me busy for a couple of hours.”
Thumbits were a tall, lanky, four-legged creature that had originated on the Solof homeworld. They’d been used extensively as pack animals by early settlers to Rendol 4, and from a number of reports I’d read, they were apparently quite similar to an animal called a llama that was native to Earth. Thumbits were a bit larger and sturdier, and they had small horns on their heads.
“You know, I’m sure the visitors would love to hear you talk about Champion,” Bo said, naming one of the more senior dogs in our care. “It’s a great story, and-”
She was cut off as my comm chimed, signalling an incoming call. “Saved by the bell,” I smirked at her, both of us knowing this was an old argument – and one that she never, ever won – and I slipped out the back door of the cattery before answering the call. I pressed the ‘voice only’ option, then said, “Hello?” The call was coming through to my private channel, not the animal sanctuary’s line, so I assumed it wasn’t a business call.
“Good afternoon,” an official-sounding voice said. “My name is Commander Aiden Hill. I’m looking for Cole Jenkins?”
“Speaking,” I said, even as my brow furrowed.Commander? As inmilitary? Why would the military be contacting me?
“Mr Jenkins, is now a good time to talk? I need to speak to you about a personal matter.”
I glanced around. There was no one else in the sanctuary today, aside from me and Bo. “Sure, yeah. What’s happening?”
“I’ve been led to believe that you’re related to a man named Jacob Ronson?”
I rolled my eyes and bit back a groan. Fucking hell, if he was in jail, or some shit, and was expecting me to bail him out, he could go toss himself off a bridge. “He’s my uncle,” I told Aiden,after a brief pause to get a handle on my temper. “But we’re estranged. I haven’t spoken to him in a number of years.”
“I see…” Aiden said. There was a pause, as he took the time to process that. Perhaps it was making him rethink whatever it was he was about to say. “Well, I have some unfortunate news about your uncle,” he said eventually, apparently deciding to forge ahead anyway. “He passed away this morning. The coroner has not yet released an official cause of death, but staff at his hotel believe it was likely to be a heart attack.”
I floundered for a moment to come up with a suitable reply. Something that was more diplomatic than ‘I don’t give a fuck’, and less crass than ‘Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy!’. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said in the end. Very soon, I would be able to end this call, and then I’d never have to speak to Aiden Hill again, so it didn’t take a huge effort to lie to him. “But as I said, my uncle and I haven’t spoken in several years. There’s really nothing in his life that would have involved me.”
“It’s, um… actually a little more complicated than that,” Aiden said. “You see, as it stands, you are his last living relative. And he died without a will. Which means that you are the sole inheritor of his estate.”
“Oh, for god’s sake,” I muttered, already losing patience. “I don’t want the fucking hotel. We can just sell it and donate the money to a charity, or something. I’m sure there are lawyers who can sort this stuff out. I don’t need any of his shit.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I wondered what Aiden was making of this. It still wasn’t clear why a military officer was calling me, instead of either the police, or one of the lawyers that Jacob had no doubt been employing. God only knew he had enough legal problems to have had two or three of them hanging around on a regular basis.
“Mr Jenkins, I’m sorry to interrupt your afternoon, but would it be possible for you to come over to the hotel? There is anotherimportant matter we need to discuss, and I’d much rather do it in person. The hotel was not the only thing that Mr Ronson owned, but the ownership of the other item is a little more-”
“No, I can’t come to the hotel,” I said, cutting off the idea before he could start running with it. “I run the South Hon Animal Sanctuary. We’re the biggest sanctuary in the entire city, and I currently have nearly a hundred animals in my care. I don’t have the time to go traipsing across the entire city just to tell you that I don’t want to inherit whatever it is that Jacob owned.”
I heard a sigh, and I figured I must really be stretching Aiden’s patience by now. But honestly, I didn’t care. I didn’t want anything from Jacob, and I wasn’t leaving the sanctuary.
But then Aiden spoke again. “How familiar are you with the dimari?”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. “Oh my god, tell me my uncle didn’t own a dimari,” I blurted out.
Again, there was a pause. “I’m afraid that your uncle did, indeed, own a dimari. Who is now in urgent need of a new home. I realise that caring for a dimari is no simple task, which is why I’d like to discuss the options with you in person. Is it possible for you to get any casual staff to come and fill in for you? Is there anyone else who could help out for the afternoon?”
The answer to the first question was yes. We had four casuals on a rotating roster, largely to fill in at weekends and give me and Bo a break, but also to cover this exact sort of situation, when one of us was sick, or wanted to take a holiday, or when we had too many animals to care for and just needed an extra pair of hands.
But at the same time, there was absolutely no way in hell I was getting on a train and travelling across the city. Unfortunately, though, I’d read enough about dimari to know that one of them losing their master would be devastating. I hated the idea of leaving him hanging, but I didn’t think itcould be as simple as just foisting him off on another person. But I wouldn’t find out unless I went and spoke to this Aiden character. So what the fuck was I supposed to do?
“As a starting point, may I ask what your role is in all of this?” I asked Aiden. “I mean, the military doesn’t usually get involved in deceased estates.”
“I was appointed by the Alliance Parliament to educate dimari owners about how to look after them, and to improve the quality of life for all dimari on Rendol 4. I’ve been slowly working my way through all the registered dimari, but unfortunately, Mr Ronson never registered his. Which is why I wasn’t aware of Xel’s existence until this morning.”
“Failing to register a dimari is illegal, isn’t it?” Slavery on Rendol 4 was strictly forbidden. But at the same time, a small number of dimari periodically ended up stranded here, as a result of some interstellar spat we had with the Eumadians – the species that trained the dimari to be slaves – and so the Parliament had come up with the idea that dimari who ended up here should be registered, so that the government could keep an eye on them and make sure they were being treated fairly and with respect.
“It is,” Aiden agreed. “But given that Mr Ronson is now deceased, there would be little purpose in pursuing a case against him.”
It was a fair point.
“Mr Jenkins, may I be quite frank with you for a moment?”
“Only if you stop calling me Mr Jenkins. My name’s Cole.”