CP would eventually notice the opening of the locker and the use of the slate, as well as the warning lock she’d put on air lock 8D-A. The environmental suit supported one emergency channel of communications and she tested it. No good. Were the MilNet nodes disabled?
Icelos was higher priority than Parmet. Not knowing what waited for her on the other side, she grabbed a handhold as she opened the door. There was no decompression, so she stepped to the threshold. The slate’s alarm went off in her hand, vibrating as well as flashing red dots.
It felt surreal to look up at the status displayed above the door—calm green—then to look down at the slate and see blinking lights and the text WARNING! OXYGEN CONTENT INADEQUATE! TEMPERATURE DANGEROUSLY LOW! DO NOT EXPOSE SKIN! Readings from the sensors in the slate began to scroll down the right side.
At least the suits were equipped with shrink-to-fit gloves, so she hastily saved the slate’s data with a single action of her thumb. Still standing at the threshold, she reached around to flip the emergency disablement switch before stepping all the way into the gym.
The door closed behind her anyway.
She whirled, her breath starting to come faster. She’d toggled the mechanical disablement switch, yet the door had closed. She was beginning to feel persecuted, and those feelings became overwhelming as the lights dimmed and a text message formed on the back of the door.
HOW CAN YOU HANDLE THE GUILT, ARI? SOON YOU’LL HAVE NO TROUBLE SLEEPING. . . .
Her eyes widened and her heart pounded. She felt the adrenaline pouring into her bloodstream as her enhanced metabolic chemistry kicked in for fight or flight—whatever it would take to save her ass.
She turned side to side, looking about the gym through her faceplate. In the dim light, she saw Icelos crumpled on the floor near one of the far weight machines. The bright text message moved around the blank walls of the gym, keeping pace with her. In the dark room the moving message cast strange shadows, making the exercise equipment look like primitive torture devices. How can I be tracked if the MilNet nodes are down? complained the back of her mind, and she squashed analysis for later—she couldn’t afford the distraction.
The slate was vibrating again, demanding attention. She looked down to read the message, which kept repeating.
MAJOR KEDROS, PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE VIA HANDHELD. CP UNABLE TO ACCESS SYSTEMS FOR SECTION 8D.
No kidding. But now she knew that some part of MilNet was operating in her favor. Reassured somebody in CP had realized her situation, she pressed the ACKNOWLEDGE key. Being able to communicate gave her more confidence, although CP was helpless at this moment. She was beginning to regret her decision to not call an emergency and roust the entire station.
Icelos looked as though he’d fallen from the bench at the weight machine. His body was curled, his eyes were closed and crusted with ice, and his exposed skin looked rosy. Kneeling beside him, Ariane keyed the slate to perform an emergency query of body functions from his implants. The slate pronounced him dead. She forwarded all her data to CP but didn’t know whether, or when, they’d receive it.
She stood up and reset the slate to display environmental readings. Frost sparkled on every metal surface that could cool quickly and grab moisture from the air. This end of the gym was against the outside shields. How long had Icelos been here? He wasn’t wearing exercise gear.
The slate started going crazy, vibrating and blinking for attention. CP couldn’t do anything for her, but they still wanted status. They’d have to wait. Unexpectedly, the darker side of the dead man’s face suddenly lit up, then fell into shadow. The cycle of light and shadow occurred again.
Turning, she saw a blinking display that eerily mimicked the countdown that displayed on Naga consoles after a TD weapon was released, armed, and targeted. Ariane had seen this display countless times via simulator and once in real life. She had less than five minutes before—before what?
Carrying the two suits was wearing her down. She dropped one beside Icelos. He wasn’t going to need it and she was sure this countdown was meaningful. Something was going to happen when the countdown hit zero.
Looking left and right through the exercise equipment, she saw no one else. She hoped the Karthage systems were working correctly when they identified the two men in this area. She decided to enter the male locker room from the corridor rather than from the gym. Would the gym door open to let her out? She held her breath. Surprisingly, it worked. So why’d you physically disable the manual override—unless you’re just fucking with me? She wished she could get face-to-face with this assassin.
The oxygen level in the corridor had dropped lower than when she’d taken her original readings. Someone had cleverly sabotaged the air mixture, either physically or through remote system control. Ariane noticed that the irritating text message followed her along the corridor wall, while the countdown display did not.
The male locker room door opened for her and she tried the manual disablement switch again. This one worked. Interesting. Perhaps I stumbled over the setup for Icelos’s murder. She filed that point away for later thought. The oxygen levels and temperature here had dropped lower than the corridor, but they weren’t lethal yet.
It was strange how locker rooms seemed to be the same wherever she went, for whatever gender they served. Regiments of lockers lined up, split by aisles of shiny floor with benches. Parmet was sitting peacefully on the floor next to the bench in the fourth aisle. She wasn’t able to access Terran implants, if he had them, but she could see that he was breathing. He wasn’t dressed for physical exercise—but then, his strange jumpsuit might work well enough. She didn’t see any weapons on his body; there was no place to hide them on that skintight suit. She doubted he’d murdered Colonel Icelos; after all, Parmet should be smart enough not to be caught in his own trap.
She put the suit hood on him to give him oxygen. It wasn’t going to seal tightly against his civilian clothes, but it was good enough. She saw his eyes flutter as she shook his shoulder. To get him out of section 8D, he’d have to be conscious and helping.
Parmet’s eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on her. He might not recognize her through the faceplate, but she hoped he realized this was an emergency. Then she saw his eyes focus above and beyond her head.
She turned around and cursed, with no one to hear her inventive blue language. The wall still displayed the text message. Above the lockers was the insidious accusation, displayed for the enemy state prince to read.
HOW CAN YOU HANDLE THE GUILT, ARI? SOON YOU’LL HAVE NO TROUBLE SLEEPING. . . .
Parmet wouldn’t know about the countdown, so she tried to make a universal gesture for hurry-up-or-we’ll-soon-be-dead. He looked confused and she pulled him to his feet.
With her help, Parmet was able to stagger to the open locker room door. He seemed to be doing better with every step as they got into the corridor. By the time they reached air lock 8D-A, he barely leaned on her. He watched the message wrap itself around the walls and follow them to the air lock, where it began to blink in front of them.
HOW CAN YOU HANDLE THE GUILT, ARI? SOON YOU’LL HAVE NO TROUBLE SLEEPING. . . .
Ariane took a deep breath, trying to suppress the dread that sat in the pit of her stomach. The status lights above the air lock mocked her, still showing green for atmosphere, power, etc. Air locks had redundant power feeds, with both a manual and a computerized interface to their powered operation. If the air lock had no power, it could still be operated from outside using a crude crank that was provided in panels near the doors. That is, if the crank was still there. . . .
The failure of the manual override at the gym door meant that a saboteur was on Karthage Point. Ariane was now in the power of the saboteur—this air lock would only work if they intended her to escape.
She pressed the plate to open the air lock. Cycle indicators began to flash and it started to open. To satisfy her curiosity, she pulled open the emergency panel. The crank was still there. So only Icelos was supposed to die
today? Was Ariane being saved for some later disaster? She turned her head to see Parmet watching her.
The priority override was disabled because of the warning lock she’d issued against air lock 8D-A, so their side seemed to take forever to open. She squeezed inside the air lock as soon as she could. Parmet, now alert, sidled in behind her. She hit the panel to stop, reverse, and close the door. Both she and Parmet turned to watch the ponderous door slide toward safety. As it locked shut behind them, the emergency channel came alive inside her suit with a repeating message.
"—teams standing by. Major Kedros, please acknowledge and provide status. We have emergency teams standing—”
"Major Kedros here.” She tried not to shout, but panic made her voice loud and her words clipped. "Colonel Icelos is dead. SP Parmet is injured, but ambulatory, and needs medical assistance. Send an EOD team—”
She felt the deck jerk under her feet, followed by a shudder that went through the habitat’s structure in a wave. Take-hold alarms started going off, wildly shooting orange and red sparks of light about the air lock. The side to section 8D displayed warnings of rapid decompression. Her request for an Explosive Ordinance Disposal team was too late.
CHAPTER 10
[Link to ship accident] You think that Gaia, as the Higher than Higher Power, was merely invented? Let’s see if you can avoid praying to her when your atmosphere is vented! Not only is she the hand that writes the DNA of all living things, she’s the comforting mother that saves us from the final void of cold black space.
—Re: Rant: Gaia-ism, Anonymous, 2082.161 UT, indexed by Heraclitus 8 under Conflict Imperative
"Mr. Journey, I have more important things to do than answer a custody petition from you. Perhaps your exposure ratings have gone to your head.” Edones looked as slick and precise as his voice. The blue edges of his uniform contrasted sharply against the black.
He made Matt feel rumpled and unwashed, although the hygiene facilities in his protective custody "quarters” were adequate. Any place that felt temporary, however, also made him feel incomplete. That went double for any place that had to pretend it wasn’t a prison. It threw off his rhythm, his schedules, and his habits. At least the LEF had returned the slate he’d been carrying when they stunned him.
"You could have denied my petition outright,” said Matt. But you came here in person, because you’d like to make Ari more indebted to you, wouldn’t you? He wanted to punch the perfectly groomed Edones in the middle of his mildly pleasant face, but that was a private fantasy. Someday I’ll do it, but right now I need you.
Edones didn’t answer. He turned and nodded at the man who stepped into the room behind him. This man was in a black and blue uniform also, but the regalia on his chest looked wildly different from Edones’s set of ribbons. The other man had a precisely clipped mustache and was of indeterminate age. His light brown hair, cut in military fashion, ended in razor-sharp delineations against his neck. He carried a large slate, almost larger than his hand, which he held in front of him as he walked the perimeter of the room.
Matt watched silently. He’d studied AFCAW officer specialties and rank, mostly to understand Ariane’s place in the military food chain, but not enlisted rank. This man had six light blue stripes on his arm and Matt didn’t know whether the designation was crewman, specialist, technician, or sergeant. He’d heard all those titles, usually on v-plays.
The enlisted man handed the slate to Edones, who nodded pleasantly and dismissed him.
"We don’t have to worry about being recorded,” said Edones, once the two of them were alone.
"You’ve turned off all the ComNet nodes?” Matt doubted the military, and Edones in particular, would have that power.
"I didn’t say that.” Edones’s voice was smooth, using that superior tone that made Matt’s fists clench. "We can call it authorized military requisition of data, if you wish. You needn’t worry about ever finding this conversation indexed in the public domain.”
Edones had more authority than Matt expected. This both relieved and worried him.
"Mr. Journey, you’ve got five minutes of my attention.” Edones sat down across from Matt and crossed his legs. "After that, I’ll walk out and formally deny your petition.”
"I asked Nestor to look into graft within Athens Point Customs,” Matt began.
Edones gave more attention to his manicure than to Matt’s words. Matt gave a bare rendition of events, minus any mention of the AI that was currently residing on the Aether’s Touch. When Matt referred to the two packages labeled CUSTOMS and KEDROS, Edones frowned, but a hangnail on his right hand had apparently distressed him. Edones was silent after Matt finished, causing him to fidget.
"Well?” Matt asked, no longer willing to wait.
"Well what? You still haven’t told me why I should care to take on your custody. What did the LEF think about the packages?”
"They haven’t produced any warrants yet, so I haven’t turned them over,” Matt said. "Perhaps they can’t convince a magistrate of their significance.”
"And if a magistrate doesn’t think they’re significant, why should I?” Edones stopped examining his fingernails and folded his hands on his knee. He looked inquiringly at Matt, his boredom evident.
"Because there’s graft in the Athens Point Customs offices, which might extend into the LEF. It’s customary, when there’s such a taint, to move the case into a different jurisdiction.” Matt couldn’t help being exasperated by the man’s obtuseness, feigned or otherwise.
"A different jurisdiction may be called for, Mr. Journey.” Edones sat up straight and his words became crisp. "But you’re assuming that I care about the fair application of civilian justice. In this case, I don’t. You’ve called in the Armed Forces Directorate of Intelligence, yet you haven’t connected this to military concerns or uniformed personnel, and this case doesn’t fall under the Consortium Uniform Code of Military Justice.”
Matt scowled. Edones was trying to scare him.
"Ari might be in danger; we should send her a warning,” Matt shot back.
"Impossible.”
"There’s no need to keep her location from me.”
"Mr. Journey, what hubris! Major Kedros’s orders are always classified. We’re not trying to hide her whereabouts from you specifically.”
"And why are her orders always classified?” Matt demanded. "Look, she might be in danger.”
"Why would you think that Mr. Expedition’s murder has anything to do with Major Kedros?”
Either Edones was confident that Ari’s background would hold together under any scrutiny, or Nestor had been off track in suspecting Ari’s records weren’t authentic. Matt had belittled Nestor’s "shadow” comments, but the seeds of doubt had been planted, valid or not. Matt tried to regroup his thoughts.
"If Ari’s undercover, Nestor might have interested someone else in her activities,” Matt said.
"She’s not covert, in case you think I’m being insensitive. She’s on active duty assignment to a military facility, supporting the new TD weapon treaty that we’ve signed with the Terrans. Why would she be at risk?”
Edones’s tone and smile seemed genuine and Matt heard the ring of truth. Growing up on a generational ship didn’t make him immune to politics, and Matt had still learned to read people. But something in Edones’s answer was a little off; either Edones was playing loose with the truth, or he was holding something back.
"This crime probably has nothing to do with you or Major Kedros. Your friend was dealing with a whole different class of people than you’re familiar with,” added Edones when Matt didn’t respond. "Did you know he was dealing with illicit ruleset distributors?”
Great bullshit, Nestor! What did you foist upon my ship? To stay safely within the law, Matt should turn the AI harbored on the Aether’s Touch over to the authorities. They’d dissect it, and after their examination, testing, and backward engineering of rulesets, there was no guarantee the AI would be the same. But if any of Ne
stor’s odd personality still existed, it was codified within that AI, and Matt’s long friendship with Nestor mandated that he protect the AI. He couldn’t turn it over.
Matt changed tactics. He needed to get out of here, without calling undue attention to Nestor’s activities. He’d hoped that making appeals based upon Ari would move Edones, but apparently not.
"What about the strange remote I caught? I think the Minoans are interested in G-145.” Matt pointed his slate and displayed a diagram of the alien ruins on the wall. The diagram was generated by combining hyperspectral sensor data with the ground-penetrating radar surveys done with telebots. "This is what we think is under the surface of the Priamos moon.”
"Yes, that diagram’s on all the news feeds and explains your exposure ratings. But the Minoans won’t care.” Edones shook his head. "As someone who’s actually met Minoans, I don’t think they’re interested in ancient ruins. And they wouldn’t give a flick of their Great Bull’s tail about you or your friend Nestor or Ari—or me—because they’re not interested in individuals.”
"I disagree. What if we find ancient technology in G-145?”
"So what if we do? Why should the Minoans care? More importantly, why should I care? You’ve got two minutes, Mr. Journey.”
"Three reasons why: because my claim slice contains technology that could release mankind from dependence upon Minoans; because the bidder’s library containing that claim data was under Nestor’s control and could now be shut down; and because I control the leases for any research and development of that technology.”
"Plenty of references to some grand sort of technology; where’s your proof?” Edones raised his eyebrows with a doubtful, patronizing air.
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