Julia Karr - Truth

And I had a decent sketch of what I wanted my own tattoo to look like. Granted, I didn’t have the credits to get one yet, but if I saved from my pay each week, I might have enough by spring.

“What do you think?” I handed it to Wei.

Taking hold of my left hand, she glanced from the sketch to it several times, imagining how it would look. “This is magic! Let’s make the appointment. I’ll call—”

“No, I can’t afford it, yet.”

“Okay. Just let me know when you’re ready. I’ll arrange everything.”

I shrugged off a twinge of jealousy. It’d take me months to save up for the tattoo. Wei probably didn’t have to wait at all to get hers. She’d probably never had to wait to buy anything. I shook my head, trying to clear it. No sense in feeling bad over the way things were. If I did a good job at the Institute, and was lucky, over time I’d move up a few tiers.

Our PAVs beeped. Another Alert. “There haven’t been this many Alerts since that meteor strike in the Sahara,” Wei said.

She projected the Alert onto the wall.

A voice-over announcer intoned, “Stay tuned for breaking news on the FeLS scandal.”

The blank screen gave way to Kasimir Lessig, seated behind a desk: Media and Governing Council insignias were prominently displayed in the background.

“Bureau of Safety and Security agents, aided by local enforcement agencies, have completed the first phase of their investigation regarding allegations about the use of the Female Liaison Specialist program as a training ground, if you will, for sex slaves.” He swiveled his chair around, facing a different camera. The scene of the fake space station popped up behind him. “It is here that alleged mastermind, Ed Chamus”—a small picture of Ed popped into the lower corner of the screen—“took unsuspecting Chosens and trained them to become sex slaves for high-ranking foreign officials and corporate moguls. Furthermore”—his chair swiveled again—“Chamus did not act alone. The Bureau has recovered AV chips labeled ‘Training’ that show at least three different men and two women…”

A close-in image of one of those chips came up. The camera then cut to Lessig’s face. His eyes sparkled with what I read as pleasure at being able to report on such an horrific story. “I have to say… in all my years of news reporting, I have never”—his eyes widened—“never seen anything as disgusting as what was being done to those young women.” His lips parted slightly, and you could hear a sudden huff of breath. “I spoke earlier today with Governing Council president Xander Critchfield.”

The scene changed to Lessig and Critchfield standing in front of the Justice Building on Dearborn.

“Citizens,” Critchfield said. “Rest assured that the perpetrators of this horrendous scheme will be found and brought to justice. Going against the accepted mores of our society, these pathetic girls abandoned their normal, natural sex-teen lives in return for the possibility of lifting themselves out of the muck of low-tier existence. And this is how they were repaid.” He shook his head, clucking his tongue. “A full accounting will be made. You have my word on it.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.” Lessig turned to the camera. “As further information comes forth, we will continue to provide updates to this story. News at eleven.”

This was bad. They were blaming it all on Ed, which I knew wasn’t the case. Ed, who Dee still thought was her dad.

“Wei, where’s Dee?”

“I think she’s in the kitchen with Chris. Why?” It dawned on me that you got Alerts only if you were of age. But if Dee had been with someone getting an Alert, she could have seen the entire thing. I jumped up and ran to the kitchen, Wei hot on my heels.

Chris and Dee were at the table.

“Nina, my father wouldn’t do anything like that.” Her face was drawn, her jaw set. “I know he wouldn’t. It has to be a mistake.”

“She insisted on watching with me,” Chris said. “I didn’t think—”

I silenced him with a look—he should have known better. I sat down next to Dee while he and Wei quietly left.

After Dee’s reaction to my triptych, I knew sugarcoating anything about Ed wouldn’t work. She’d already shown she was much stronger than I’d imagined.

“Dee, Ed wasn’t the nicest guy.” I felt her body stiffen. “You didn’t know, because Mom hid things from you. I hid things from you. Things that I saw firsthand. Remember all the times I took you to Sandy’s house? Ed beat Mom up. That’s how she broke her arm. That’s how she got all those cuts and bruises.”

“He said she was clumsy. He said that she accidentally hurt herself.” She turned her tearstained face to me and said, “I believed him, Nina.” Dropping her gaze, she murmured, “He’s my dad.”

Oh, how I ached to tell Dee that he wasn’t. But her safety depended on her not knowing the truth.

Dee studied her hands for the longest time. “Does this mean I’m going to be cruel, like him?”

“What?” My jaw dropped. “Why would you think that?”

“We’re studying genetics and character traits,” she said. “Maybe I inherited a cruelty trait from my father.”

Funny how one truth revealed opens the way for others. Still, there were some things that I just couldn’t tell her.

“Character traits, and that’s what cruelty is, aren’t passed down through genes,” I said. “Eye and hair color, how tall you’ll be, and the size of your ears… those are decided by genetics. Who you are, how you act, the kinds of things you do… you get to make those choices. And you learn about them from the people who raise you. Mom, Gran, Pops—none of them are cruel. You couldn’t possibly be.”

Dee looked over at me, tears rimming her eyes. “I miss Mom so much. And Pops… and I wish Gran were here.”

Her effort to keep from crying made my own throat ache with unshed tears. “I do, too, Deeds. I do, too.” I rounded the table and put my arms around her.

She allowed the comforting, for a bit, then shook me off and stood up.

“Chris and I made Gran’s green-tomato mince-pie recipe. We should try it while it’s still warm, the way Pops likes it. You go get everyone while I cut the pie.”

She walked to the cook center, shoulders back, head held high, reminding me so much of Ginnie. Those were the genes and the character traits Dee had inherited—those of a strong woman.

Later, Mrs. Jenkins invited Dee and me into her study. “We need to talk about Wednesday’s hearing.”

“Miss Maldovar’s going to be there,” Dee said. “She has friends at Child Protective Services and thought she might be able to help.”

“Who is Miss Maldovar?” Mrs. Jenkins frowned.

“My teacher,” Dee said.

“I see. Well then, I look forward to meeting her. Perhaps she will be of help.” Mrs. Jenkins cast a puzzled look in my direction, then went on. “I wanted to share with you both the particulars on how a Writ of Unsuitability hearing is conducted. The child, the parents or guardians, and any other family members or interested parties may be present. Also the complainant, or his or her representative, which is usually Child Protective Services, will be there. We’ll be called in front of a judge, who will ask questions about the case. Then the judge will hand down his or her decision.”

“Will they allow us to comment?” I asked.

“We shouldn’t count on that. Fortunately, Mr. Jenkins has very high standing in Media, and he’s well known in the judiciary, having covered many high-profile criminal proceedings. It is helpful that you’re now living with us. The judge may be more inclined to treat you favorably. However, if we get a judge who is not acquainted with Mr. Jenkins, I can’t say.”