Those Who Rise (Justice Keepers Saga Book 15) - R.S. Penney

Those Who Rise (Justice Keepers Saga Book 15) by R.S. Penney

Book excerpt

(43 years ago)

Rain pattered against Ilia’s office window, a steady drizzle that streaked over the glass. Through the blur, she saw the skyline of Arinas. Towering skyscrapers reached for the clouds, never quite touching them. The reconstruction had been completed a few months ago. You would never know the Antaurans had attacked this city only a year earlier.

Seated in a comfy chair with her feet propped up on a shelf that she had positioned under the window, Ilia Morane balanced a container of abron in her lap. She stirred the rice with her fork, exposing several pieces of chicken underneath.

She was a woman of average height, slightly plump, with a copper complexion. People told her that her round face had a matronly quality, and the black hair that she kept in a bun certainly added to the effect.

Scooping up some rice, Ilia shoveled it into her mouth. “Comfuuder…” She really had to stop talking with her mouth full. Chewing thoroughly, she swallowed and tried again. “Computer, analyze the blood samples I provided.”

“Working.”

“Scan the city records. Search for the closest living relative.”

The silence dragged on for a few moments while she waited for an answer. A shuttle flew over the distant buildings. Might it be carrying supplies up to the new orbital defense platforms? Tomas, her husband, had been working on those for months.

“No match found,” the computer reported.

Reclining in her chair, Ilia blinked up at the ceiling. “You’re telling me that Jena has no living relatives in this city?”

“Confirmed.”

“Expand the search to the entire planet.”

Once again, the silence lasted for an unbearably long time. Adopting Jena had brought light into her world, a joy that she never would have imagined. But she sometimes wondered about the child that she and her husband had found in a hospital’s emergency room.

Little Jena was just sitting there in her carrier, sound asleep despite the chaos all around her. And chaos was an understatement. Casualties had been coming in from all over the city. The power grid was flickering as the Antaurans destroyed wind farms and geothermal plants. She had tried using the security camera footage to see who had left Jena alone in that place, but there was no such footage. The hospital’s central computer had routed every scrap of available power into the systems they needed to treat the patients.

“No match found,” the computer said.

Ilia leaped out of her chair, wincing as a spear of pain went through her back. She massaged the tender spot with her fist. She had been injured during the attack. “That’s impossible!” she barked. “Search again.”

“No match found.”

“Check records for the deceased.”

“No match found.”

Turning away from the window, Ilia hunched over with her hands on her desk. She shook her head slowly. “All right,” she muttered. “Check records from Leyria. Search for the closest possible genetic match. Go back as far as you have to go.”

Another long silence left her with time to think. She and her husband had gladly taken the baby. They had always wanted to start a family, and they loved the idea of adopting a child who needed a good home. But something about the situation just felt…off to her. Who would abandon a baby? The very concept was unthinkable! She had been expecting someone to show up on her doorstep claiming to be Jena’s biological mother or father. Someone who may have been injured during the attack. But a year had passed, and no one had come.

“One match found.”

“Show me.”

The hologram of a tall man appeared before her desk. He was pale and lanky with brown hair that he wore cut short, the ends of it curling over his ears. His face had a friendly quality to it – a dimpled chin, a jovial smile – but you would never call him handsome. Those hollow cheeks just didn’t suit him. “Bevin Derson,” the computer announced. “Born 491 CA, Deceased 534 CA.”

Ilia wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That was over a hundred and seventy years ago,” she said. “How is it possible that Jena’s closest living relative has been dead for almost two centuries?”

“Unknown.”

“Compare genetic samples. How is Bevin Derson related to Jena?”

“Bevin Derson is Jena Morane’s biological father.”

The blood drained out of Ilia’s face. She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over her chair, and then cursed. She had never been graceful. The calling card of an engineer: skilled hands, clumsy feet.

Bracing her hands on the shelf, Ilia let her head sink. “All right,” she mumbled. “Let’s work with that. Who was Jena’s biological mother?”

“No match found.”

“Search biographical data. Did Bevin have a wife?”

“No records found.”

“Did he have children?”

“No records found.”

Ilia groaned. This was starting to feel like a cover-up. Leyria had been new to space travel back then; the warp drive had only been around for about ten years when Bevin died. He would have witnessed the first manned expeditions into interstellar space. But even so, record-keeping from that time should not have been this spotty. People had been reliably taking census data for centuries before Bevin was born. If he had a wife, there should have been some record. A marriage certificate. Something!

(36 years ago)

Finn’s Pass was a tiny town in Leyria’s Rayonak Mountains. Its only library contained a wealth of digital records, chronicling the town’s history across several centuries. They kept the paper records in the basement, a large room with yellow walls. A treasure trove of books occupied every shelf.

Very few people read paper books anymore. Everything was digital: e-readers and SmartGlass tablets. Libraries kept paper copies of everything important so that knowledge would not be lost in the event of some planet-wide catastrophe.

Ilia sat at a round, wooden table in the corner, flipping through a book of laminated news articles. Bevin Derson had grown up here in Finn’s Pass. She had been through all the digital records, but she could find no mention of him. When she ran the same genetic comparison that had brought up his name, the computer found no matches. Which meant the records had been scrubbed. Which meant someone didn’t want her to find Jena’s biological parents.

Jena was staying with her grandma and grandpa in Pelor. She had been so excited for this trip to Leyria. At eight years old, she was the sweetest girl Ilia had ever seen. Why anyone would abandon her was something that Ilia would never comprehend. But she needed answers. Her parents had taken Jena to the Peloran Festival of Lights. Which made this the perfect time for Ilia to do some digging. If the digital records had been scrubbed, maybe the paper records would remain.

After nearly an hour of searching, she turned a page and found exactly what she was looking for. A picture of Bevin Derson with a baby girl in his arms. A baby girl who looked exactly like Jena. The man had a wife as well, a beautiful young woman with waves of long hair and a face like an angel.

It was from an article about a county fair.

Ilia skimmed through the text, searching for their names.

(Present Day)

Jena stood with fists on her hips, examining the yellow-walled library. The research bots she had requisitioned were rifling through a plethora of paper records, searching for whatever her mother had found all those years ago.

So far, they’d had no luck.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs told her that Larani had returned. The other woman was a ghostly figure who came up behind her. Larani took one look at all the chaos, sniffed disdainfully and rested one hand on a bookshelf. “I take it you haven’t found anything.”

Grimacing as her frustration spiked, Jena shook her head. “Not a damn thing,” she replied. “My mother’s diary said that this was where she learned Isara’s real name, but we’ve been through the place from one end to the other. There’s nothing here.”

“I’m sorry.”

Leaning her shoulder against a shelf, Jena allowed herself a moment of self-pity. “It was a long shot anyway,” she said. “Isara’s smart; she knew that my mother had learned her secret. She would have destroyed the records.”

Larani had her back against the opposite shelf, nodding slowly as she considered Jena’s words. “Makes sense,” she said. “But it was worth a try.”

“Yeah.”

Audrin was fidgeting in the back of Jena’s head; the Nassai didn’t like it when she got despondent. Well, that would change soon enough. Records or no records, this little town was the perfect place for a romantic getaway.

She took Larani’s hand, pulling her close. Their lips met in the softest kiss, a kiss that lingered for what felt like half a minute. When it passed, Jena touched her nose to Larani’s. “Thank you for coming with me,” she murmured.

“Of course.”

“It can’t be easy being back here.”

“On Leyria?”

Jena backed away, blinking at the other woman. “After what they did to you,” she clarified. “Stripping away your rank, blaming you for what happened to Dusep, making you an outlaw.”

“It’s past,” Larani insisted. “What matters is the present. We need to find your mother.”

“My mother was-”

Larani silenced her with a raised hand, a scowl betraying her embarrassment. “Yes, I know,” she said. “Your mother was Ilia Morane. I’m sorry.”

Falling back against the bookshelf, Jena squeezed her eyes shut. She pressed her fingertips against her temples. “It’s okay,” she said. “I just…I hate being reminded that I share anything in common with Isara.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” A small smile came on as Jena stepped forward. “So this place has an annual Harvest Festival. And with fall setting in, it’s happening soon. Want to be my date?”

“When is it happening?” Larani asked. “We need to get back to the others.”

“Well, you’re in luck. It’s happening tonight.”