Rising Tomorrow (Roc de Chere Book 1), Mariana Morgan [epub e ink reader .TXT] 📗

he always preferred there to be equal footing. The idea of raising a hand against a subordinate who couldn’t defend themselves, in fear of them or their families suffering far worse, sickened him.

The look on Ingram’s face, the swelling and the beginnings of a nasty bruise prominently visible as if no nano-meds were available to heal the damage, was a perfect example of the sick reality that surrounded them. The nano-tech was there, right there at their fingertips, to be flaunted in front of the Leeches who had no easy access to it.

Oh, he could give permission to use nano-meds to anyone in his charge, but it would look too suspicious if Ingram, or any other Leech gendarme, somehow got access to such technology outside of an emergency. Knowing Ingram, she probably wouldn’t even take pure nano-painkillers, let alone nano-healers, if offered—just in case it made her look too comfortable. Of course, once off duty she could purchase some of the basic nano-meds available with her Leech salary, but until the end of the day she would simply have to suffer.

He, on the other hand, had no option but to accept a nano-dressing to deal with the slightly scraped knuckles from a Leech who could easily have been on the receiving end of them. The common availability of drugs that fixed most ordinary physical trauma in mere hours had significantly changed people’s attitudes to injury, and not always for the best. In the pre-nanobots era, a simple broken bone had led to weeks of immobilisation and was followed by rehabilitation and no guarantee that the healing would be complete. Even a sprained ligament or a pulled muscle could have had long-lasting consequences.

With the advances made not only in nano-medicine but also in diagnostic nano-devices, the human race had acquired a certain disturbingly casual attitude towards physical trauma. After all, if something could be healed so easily, there was no reason to fear the consequences of bold actions, stunts and dangerous lifestyles. Unless, of course, someone was born a Leech and spent their entire life struggling to find enough food to feed themselves and their families, and couldn’t even dream of the benefits of the mighty nano-tech.

By the end of the 26th century the Elite were so spoilt with the progress made in nano-sciences that they forgot what life used to be like. Most of them failed to understand the hardship Leeches went through every day. Hardship exacerbated by the Elite, their ignorance, or worse, on purpose as they abused the power they held.

Damn, how he hated the System.

‘What do you know about Commissioner Wagner?’ Gonzalez asked, trying hard to ignore how she subtly favoured her left side and her ribs from an earlier ‘discipline’ session. He knew the ribs weren’t cracked—he had made damn sure they weren’t—but the bruising was probably extensive.

‘Louis Wagner? Probably as much as you do.’ Ingram probed her memory quickly for all the information she had. She also knew something about Wagner that Gonzalez most definitely did not, but something stopped her from sharing it. It was neither the time nor the place.

‘Good.’ Gonzalez nodded. ‘Brau-Hastings just called—Wagner is on his way to take over this investigation,’ he summarised, watching her eyes grow round.

It was fascinating to watch her face become expressive on demand, knowing that when necessary not even a single muscle would twitch. In private, though, letting emotions show made their communication faster and more effective. There was probably no one Gonzalez could read better and quicker than the woman in front of him.

Finally, Ingram opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it with a click, sensing his urgency.

‘Copy all you have, original codes and tags, and get it off the 4th’s network before Wagner gets here,’ Gonzalez ordered. ‘Double-check your computer is sanitised. Apparently he has traced our mysterious civilian. Or more correctly, someone has done it for him. I don’t know what he wants with her, but it can’t be good. I want her for myself. More importantly, I need her far away from Wagner.’

Ingram’s eyes rounded even more, this time in understanding, and she opened her mouth again, but Gonzalez cut her off.

‘No, Carlotta, it’s either you or me. This is why you are here in the first place. And you are better at this than me. I need to monitor the situation; I can’t get stuck here. You will stay behind, use me to get yourself into Wagner’s good graces. Whatever it takes.’

She sighed, but kept quiet. Sergeant Carlotta Ingram, aka Major Aisha Toscano, was no stranger to hard decisions. No stranger to hard decisions that she took herself and to those that others took on her behalf. A distant part of her brain noticed that Gonzalez had just told her to fuck Wagner and become his sex toy if that’s what it took, but that was neither unexpected nor important. Even if Wagner probably liked to twist his new toys into sick compliance.

She could deal with that when the time came.

What mattered far more was that to get anywhere she would have to give it all. Her body and soul would hardly be enough. She would have to give him something juicy and tasty. Something about Gonzalez, or better yet about Colonel Mathias Larsen. Which would make her CO about as useful as a potato for any further intelligence work.

One look at Gonzalez told her that her CO had already considered all that. To him, it was worth the risk. Technically, whatever exposure he suffered could be worked around with enough time and a new identity. What couldn’t be worked around was that Major Aisha Toscano, with a BCC identifying her as Sergeant Carlotta Ingram, a Leech, would effectively be in charge, at least in the field, of whatever was left of this fate-fucked-up op that had an annoying habit of standing still for weeks and then falling off a cliff with no warning.

She would still have her skills and experience, but no effective power to stop a