“What am I looking for?”
“Any form of discrepancy. I have an outside finance expert going over their current files, but I need to know how far back this goes. There might have been some tampering with official records. If that’s right, then the ones on file in Paris will be our only evidence.”
“Okay. I’ll get on it tomorrow for you.”
“Thanks.”
“What put you on to this after so long?”
“I had a tip-off from an informant; it’s also why we’re focusing on Baron.”
“She’s involved?”
“My informer claims she was part of the cover-up. We’re not sure. Not yet. And, Tarlo, keep this from Hogan and the rest of them. Columbia has tried to block me once on this already; I need to get the proof without interference.”
“Hogan hasn’t got a clue what goes on in the office. Don’t worry, you can rely on me.”
She gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek. “Thanks. I think you’d better get back to your friend now. That way I might manage to survive until morning.”
Paula watched him slither back into the sweaty embrace of the crowd where the girl was waiting with edgy impatience. Inside she felt a knot of tension slacken off. He seemed to have swallowed the old favor routine. Either that or he was a superb actor. It wouldn’t be long now before she knew for certain.
Chapter Eight
Paula had used just about every kind of transport system the human race had ever invented, but the travel pods in the High Angel always unnerved her. The way they turned transparent from the inside, the high speed, the perfectly maintained gravity field, all that combined into an insidious roller coaster disorientation. Nowadays she knew to keep eyes firmly closed from the moment she got in until a quiet ping announced they’d reached her destination.
Two armored navy security guards were standing outside the pod as she climbed out. They saluted sharply. “The Admiral’s expecting you, Investigator,” one said.
Paula nodded and looked up. She was standing at the base of the Pentagon II. Overhead the dome was completely opaque, diffused with a creamy light. The High Angel was in major conjunction above Icalanise, with Babuyan Atoll pointing directly at the local star. She couldn’t see anything outside at all.
The security guards escorted her into the elevator. Anna was waiting outside when it arrived on the top floor. “Good to see you again,” she said.
“Thanks. How’s married life?”
“Busy.” She held her hand out showing off her rings.
“Lovely,” Paula conceded.
“He’s waiting for you. Oscar’s in there with him.”
Paula hadn’t expected that. “Okay.”
With the dome’s uniform white light outside, it was difficult to tell if the windows in Wilson’s office were clear or not. Given this was supposed to be an ultra-secure meeting, she supposed they were sealed. It wasn’t something she asked; it was fairly obvious she’d walked right into the middle of an argument.
Wilson was standing behind his desk, his long features drawn tight by antagonism. Oscar stood opposite, hands on hips, staring him down.
“Problem?” Paula asked.
“A huge one, actually,” Oscar said. The anger fled from him, and he slumped back into the nearest chair. “Fucking hell!”
“What’s going on?” Paula asked.
“I asked you here because we had proof of some very serious treachery on the Second Chance flight,” Wilson said. He still looked furious, fingers rapping on the desktop. “I needed your advice on the Guardians. Jesus, if they’re right…”
“Had proof?” Paula asked. She didn’t like the way Wilson had made the emphasis.
“Let me show you,” Oscar said.
A wide section of the office wall began to project the shuttle flight between the starship and the Watchtower. Oscar gave a commentary as the little craft left its hangar bay, explaining the dish deployment, where it was pointing. Paula watched it all in fascination. It really was concrete evidence, rather than circumstantial, that someone was actively working against the interest of the human race. One of the Starflyer’s agents had to have been on board the Second Chance.
“Thank you,” she said with quiet sincerity. “This is exactly what I needed.” The emotional reaction to the revelation was stronger than she’d expected; it was almost like being mildly inebriated.
“No it’s not,” Wilson said curtly. “And that’s the fucking problem. This is a recording Oscar made from our main records.”
“I reviewed the Second Chance data while I was on board Defender,” Oscar explained. “Someone from the Guardians contacted me and said enough to raise some doubts in my mind. I started going through the old records and found this.”
“You know a Guardian?” Paula asked.
Oscar shot Wilson a guarded look. The Admiral stared ahead, unresponsive.
“They claimed they represented the Guardians,” Oscar said. “I mean, they don’t exactly carry club membership badges. In truth, I’ve no way of knowing.”
“I see. Go on.”
“The point the Admiral is making is that this”—Oscar waved at the projected image that had frozen to show the dish—“is an unofficial copy of the navy secure records.”
“So?” Paula asked.
“Let me play you the official record of the same sensor,” Wilson said. The frozen image flickered and vanished. Then the recording began again, showing the Second Chance superstructure rising into view as the shuttle left its hangar. Reaction control thrusters squirted sulphur vapor, rotating the craft. It began to head out toward the Watchtower, leaving the giant starship behind. The image froze.
“Oh, hell,” Paula said.
“We sat in here two days ago watching this very same goddamn official recording,” Oscar said. “It showed the dish deploying exactly as it does in my copy. When we ran through it today—” His fist came down hard on the arm of his chair. The main communications dish on the Second Chance was still folded down in its recess.
Paula looked from one man to the other. “Who else knew?”
Wilson cleared his throat awkwardly. “Just the two of us.”
“Oscar, did you tell the Guardians what you’d found?” she asked.
“No. There’s been no contact since I returned from my scout mission.”
“Is there an access log for official navy records?”
“Yes,” Wilson said warily. “That was the first thing we checked, of course. Nobody has accessed this recording since we did two days ago. But then…”
“There’s no log entry of Oscar copying the files,” Paula presumed.
Oscar’s head dropped into his hands. “I’d been contacted by the Guardians. The Guardians! And I was making illegitimate copies of sensitive navy data right in the middle of Pentagon II, for Christ sake.”
“You erased the access log.”
“Yeah. With my code authority it’s not difficult. I know a few program fixes.”
“Don’t we all,” she admitted. “I could probably do a better job than you. But at least it does prove that someone can get in and out of your secure records without a trace.”
“What somebody?” Wilson challenged. “There’s just the two of us.”
“Three,” Paula corrected. “The High Angel sees everything that occurs within itself.” She looked up at the indistinct white ceiling, arching an eyebrow. “Care to comment?”
The High Angel’s colorful icon appeared in her virtual vision. “Good morning, Paula,” it said.
Wilson flinched. He’d obviously forgotten just how pervasive the alien starship’s attention was. Oscar’s face was red with guilt.
“Do you know who altered the official recording?” Paula asked.
“I do not. I see within myself, but your electronic systems are independent and heavily encrypted, especially the navy network. I have no way of knowing who accessed the official recordings.”
“Did you see the official recording which Os
car and the Admiral played in here two days ago?”
“I saw the images produced by your holographic projector. I cannot vouch where they originated from inside your network.”
A very legalistic answer, Paula thought, but the giant alien starship was correct. It couldn’t prove the origin of the images. “Thank you.”
“So what does that tell us?” Oscar asked petulantly. “We’re royally screwed.”
Paula took a moment to compose her thoughts. “First option, and the simplest: that this office is not totally secure, and a Starflyer agent found out about your discovery. The records were subsequently altered to remove the dish deployment. Second option: one of you two gentlemen is a Starflyer agent, and altered the official recording. That option effectively means you, Admiral.”
“Now just a goddamn minute—”
“Third option,” she said forcefully. “That both of you have conspired to produce a bogus recording to discredit myself and anyone else opposing the Starflyer.”
“If that’s true, why are we telling you that what we saw got altered on the official recording?” Oscar said.
Paula nodded reasonably. “Good point. I listed them in order of probability.”
“Well, I’ve got another one for you,” Oscar said. “That the Primes, the Starflyer if it exists, and the High Angel are all conspiring against the human race.”
“Yes,” Paula said. “If that’s so, then we’re in more trouble than I thought. A lot more trouble.”
They all paused, waiting to see if the High Angel would refute the claim. It was silent.
“It’s got to be the first one,” Oscar said. “We know the Starflyer infiltrated the navy right from the start. Son of a bitch, any of us could be its agent.”
“But we’re not,” Paula said. “Don’t let paranoia take over. Look at it this way, you know you’re not a Starflyer agent.”
“How does that help?”
“It’s a start. You have to work on the assumption that not everything you do can be sabotaged. Plan your actions very carefully.”
“Right, so we repair the official recording.” Oscar gave Wilson a defiant glance.
“I can’t permit that,” the Admiral said. “It compromises the whole allegation.”
“He’s right,” Paula said.
“But we have to,” Oscar said. “It’s the only proof we’ve got. My copy is the genuine record. You can’t let the Starflyer escape on some smartass lawyer technicality. For fuck’s sake, this is our future as a species we’re talking about.”
“You know for certain that the copy is real,” Paula said. “So does the Admiral because he saw the official recording before it was doctored. I, however, do not know for certain. I suspect it might be real, but that isn’t good enough.”
“I don’t believe this! I have genuine evidence that some bastard traitor was on board the Second Chance, and I can’t use it? The original recording was altered.” He gave Wilson a pleading glance. “You know that all we’d be doing is repairing the Starflyer’s sabotage.”
“If the provenance is faked, the evidence is worthless,” Paula said.
“Son of a bitch, you can’t be serious. We can blow the Starflyer out of space with this. Everyone would know it exists.”
“I would not accept a substitute recording, no matter how noble your intentions,” Paula said. “I would have to inform any authority you went to that it was not genuine.”
“Both of you!” Oscar growled sullenly.
It wasn’t hard for Paula to work out what he was thinking. Option five: he was the only innocent one.
“The Starflyer hasn’t been entirely successful in this venture,” Paula said.
“It might have avoided exposure, but we ourselves now have further evidence it is real.”
“What fucking use is that?” Oscar demanded. “You just said we can’t use it.”
“Not publicly, no.”
“Further evidence?” Wilson asked sharply. “You knew already?”
“I strongly suspected, and have done for some time now. I’ve amassed a great deal of circumstantial evidence; but again the problem is that it’s not sufficient to go to court with.”
“Is that why you wanted me to pursue the Mars case?”
“Yes, Admiral.” She gave Oscar a steady look. “It could have got me closer to them. I still don’t have any access route to the Guardians. If I did, and we shared information, they might be able to help me trace the Starflyer.”
“When they get in contact next I’ll tell them,” Oscar said in defeat.
“They probably won’t want to talk to me,” she told him. “But try and persuade them anyway. Try very hard. It is extremely important that we work together on this.”
“Sure thing.”
“What the hell do I do about the navy in the meantime?” Wilson asked.
“We’re completely compromised.”
“I don’t think there’s much that can be done. Obviously you’ll have to increase security, but there’s no way the Starflyer can prevent the major actions you’re undertaking. There’s too much political, fiscal, and physical inertia behind the navy.”
“But it can tell the Primes everything. We’ve already seen it can communicate with them.”
“Even if the Primes knew the exact time the navy ships are due to arrive at Hell’s Gateway, would it make any difference? Really? They know we will attack them there at some time. Their defenses will be as strong as they can conceivably make them. They’ve seen our weapons technology in action. Nothing has changed.”
“The strength is in the details,” Wilson said. “If they know exactly what we can do, they’ll be able to counter it.”
“They know what we’re doing on the Lost23, yet that insurgency campaign appears to be remarkably successful.”
“Yeah, maybe, but this is one weapon type we’re using. Neutralize that and we’re screwed.”
“You cannot change the attack’s schedule by much, that much is obvious. What you must do now is conduct the rest of the conflict appropriately. Information must be compartmentalized. Internal security procedures need to be strengthened, starting with your network and arrays. Work on the assumption that all information will ultimately leak to the Primes. In the meantime, I will try and identify the traitors.”
“Do you think Columbia is working for the Starflyer?” Wilson asked.
“I’m not sure yet. His actions are certainly detrimental to me personally, but that doesn’t make him guilty of anything other than being a politician.”
Wilson pushed back his hair. “Damnit, I still can’t believe anyone would betray their own species.”
“From what I understand, such an action is not voluntary. The Starflyer exercises some kind of mental control over its agents. I don’t understand the nature of it yet. I am currently tracking down several such people. When they are in custody, we may be able to determine the methodology.”
“You already know the identity of Starflyer agents?” Wilson asked.
“I have suspects, yes.”
“Are they connected with the navy?”
Paula considered the question carefully. She had arrived prepared to share a great deal of information, but the alteration of secure navy records was a nasty surprise. There was no way of telling how trustworthy Wilson and Oscar actually were. Until she was certain, she had to regard option three as highly probable, which meant limiting the information she made available. “I have reason to believe that a legal firm and a bank in New York have been acting as a financial distribution center for the Starflyer. The specialists I’ve had examining their accounts have come up with an interesting connection. A Mr. Seaton, who is one of the lawyers we’re trying to locate, sat as a nonexecutive director on the board of Bayfoss Engineering.”
“They manufacture sensor satellites,” Oscar said quickly. “We used their ground survey models in the CST exploration division to map new planets.”
“They also manufactured the Armstrong-cla
ss satellites which the Second Chance carried,” Paula said. “That means the actual hardware integrated into the satellites must be considered suspect.”
“Oh, shit,” Wilson whispered. He and Oscar swapped a horrified look.
“How many did we lose in the Dark Fortress?”
“Nine satellites total,” Oscar said. “Four of them were Armstrong-class.”
“And just after that, the barrier came down.”
“Did the Starflyer know how to switch it off?”
“That depends,” Paula said. “If you take the Guardians’ assumption that this whole war was deliberately engineered by the Starflyer, then it is highly likely that one or more of those satellites contained a device capable of shutting down the barrier.”
“And the traitor on board triggered the damn thing while we were there,” Oscar said. He closed his eyes as if he were in pain. “So we did switch off the barrier and let them out? Oh, God.”
“We, as in humans, did not,” Paula said. “We were, however, manipulated to produce the result it required.”
“How did it know?” Wilson asked in confusion. “If it planned all this out decades ago, it must have known the Primes were inside the barrier, and known how to shut that barrier down. How?”
“That’s certainly something I intend to ask it when I finally catch up with it,” Paula said. “But for now I suggest you concentrate on this information as an exercise in damage limitation. I believe Bayfoss is still supplying the navy with equipment? Their shareholder report certainly claims they’re doing well on military sales.”
“Yes,” Wilson said. “They’re a specialist astroengineering company; we use them extensively.”
“Is it for anything critical?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, they have contracts to supply several highly classified projects.”
“Perhaps you’d better take a close look at the components they’re delivering.”
***
Ozzie woke up as slim beams of bright sunlight slid across his face. Their side of Island Two was rotating back to face the sun again after nine hours cloaked within its own umbra. Here in the gas halo, “night” wasn’t anything like as dark as it would be on a planet, but it did give them a reasonable break from the relentless glare. He checked his watch; he really had been asleep for nine hours. It was taking his body a long time to recuperate from those days spent in freefall.
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