Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection

by G. S. Jennsen

  Two thousand credits was more than she had earned in six months. Her pulse began to quicken. “How do you know I won’t double-cross you and give you the wrong codes?”

  His shoulders rose a fraction. “I guess I’ll have to trust you. Are you worthy of my trust, Mia?”

  She stared at him a moment…and nodded.

  Mia motioned Jonathan over to her. “Ma’am, if you’ll excuse me a moment. My assistant can walk you through the purchase process. You’re in good hands, and thank you again.”

  She forced herself not to rush down the hall to her private office at the gallery, even pausing to procure a gin-marinated olive off the tray of a passing waiter. The office was one of several located around the city, and as immaculate and refined as each of the others. Like everything in her life now.

  The guy had showed up on Romane to check on her four months after she fled Pandora. She repaid the two thousand credits, plus interest—she had made excellent use of the time—then asked him to dinner. That had been twelve years ago.

  Once the door closed behind her she sent a livecomm request. “Caleb. What do you need?”

  There was a brief pause before the response came. “Mia, how are you?”

  “I’m splendid, but you don’t have to small-talk me. Are you okay? It sounded urgent.”

  “I’m fine. But I need a favor. Any chance I can borrow a Class I bay at your spaceport?”

  “Of course, it’s no trouble.”

  “I’m also going to need the records of its rental and the ship it holds falsified. And once we arrive, I’ll need the highest-grade security you can provide for the bay.”

  “We?”

  “I’ll explain when we get there—which should be mid-morning tomorrow local. I’m afraid I’m not sure how long we’ll be using it.”

  “It’s not a problem, Caleb. You know that. Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, but we can talk about it when I see you. Thank you, Mia. I owe you.”

  She smiled to herself. “No, you don’t.”

  50

  SENECA

  CAVARE, INTELLIGENCE DIVISION HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  MICHAEL REGARDED THE SERIES OF financial transactions on the screen with painfully narrowed eyes.

  Now that the initial panic of the onset of war had faded a bit, he managed to find an hour here and there to return to the Atlantis investigation. Oh, the politicians were still panicking to be certain, at least when they weren’t prematurely gloating about Seneca’s inevitable and sure-to-be-swift victory.

  There was less panicking over the potential alien invasion, but only because very few people knew about it and most of them weren’t the panicking type. The continued silence from the special forces team sent to Metis to investigate worried him, but given the communication difficulties perhaps he was being impatient.

  Agent Marano was at last on his way home, and with his prize of a companion no less; when they arrived he would turn his attention more directly to the matter. Until then….

  He frowned at the screen. In fairness he had probably been frowning at it for some time now, in which case the frown deepened. As Assistant Trade Director and a friend of many corporations, Jaron Nythal maintained a healthy bank account nearly equal to his healthy expenditures. But if one mapped the patterns in his transactions over a long enough period—and it had taken considerable persuasion for him to get a warrant to review the man’s accounts for said long enough period—recent unusual activity could be discerned. Barely.

  Five deposits, three in the two weeks prior to the Summit and two in the four days following the assassination, totaled almost three hundred percent more than any previous deposit in the last five years. True, they were all for different amounts and from different payers. But it felt like they belonged together.

  Two days after being released from questioning Nythal had purchased a fancy townhome in Pinciana. Prior to being pulled, surveillance had reported he toured four downtown condos on the market after purchasing the townhome.

  As evidence went it was far from sufficient to prove anything, but his gut and years of experience told him the man had been paid off. The question was, for what?

  He had studied Nythal’s history, and one thing the man excelled at was access. Smoothing the way, greasing the wheels. But Candela didn’t need help getting access to Minister Santiagar.

  So who did?

  Michael was leaning casually against the wall next to Nythal’s office when the man arrived for work.

  His step stuttered. “Mr.…Volosk, is it? I don’t recall us having a meeting this morning?”

  “Oh, we didn’t. A couple of final questions came up. Clean-up stuff really. I thought I’d stop by and we could take care of it quickly.”

  “Well I—” Jaron glanced down as he opened his door.

  “Excellent, it’ll only take a few minutes.” Michael slid in the door in front of Jaron and settled in one of the chairs opposite the desk. He looked over his shoulder expectantly until the man circled around and sat uneasily across from him.

  “So, um, what can I do for you?”

  “Enjoying your new townhome?”

  “What? I don’t—”

  “Never mind. I was curious about the different access levels in place at the Summit, and in particular the surrounding safeguards. It seems like the ballroom area where the dinners took place remained fairly open and unrestricted. So tell me about the requirements to get in.”

  “Your men staffed the security detail. Don’t you know?”

  “Humor me.”

  Jaron sniffed and kicked back in his chair. “Well, members of the delegation were granted admission to the area reserved for the Summit. Some conference rooms required additional special clearance, and the private Alliance meeting rooms were off limits.”

  “Let’s see…” he rubbed at his jaw “…we provided the pre-approved guests, corporate executives and media mainly, special admission codes. They also had to clear security and match the list each time. They were thoroughly investigated before being invited, of course—by your Intelligence Division, I believe.”

  “Right. Of course.” Michael shifted in the chair, appearing to display some chagrin. “Though those ‘guests’ were recommended and submitted for approval by your Trade Division, yes?”

  “I believe so, but it wasn’t my responsibility so I can’t be—”

  “You’re the Assistant Trade Director. If not your responsibility, then whose? The Director?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes, he did make several specific requests and recommendations—”

  “So you were involved in preparing the guest list, since you know the details.”

  “Uh…partially, as I have a number of contacts in the community, but…Mr. Volosk, I’m not sure I understand the point of all of this. Chris Candela committed the assassination. It’s undisputed at this point, isn’t it?”

  Volosk tilted his head ever so slightly. “So it would appear.”

  “There isn’t any other possibility, is there?”

  He met Nythal’s gaze. “No, certainly not. And with the war on, it hardly matters now anyway, does it?” He stood. “Like I said, merely some clean-up questions. If I find I have any more—clean-up questions that is—I’ll just swing by for another quick visit.”

  “I have an extremely busy schedule, so it might be better if you made an appointment next time.”

  “Sure, sure, I’ll try to do so if I can. I have an extremely busy schedule as well—the war and all—so I can’t make any guarantees.”

  Michael smiled coldly. “I’ll show myself out. Have a good day, Mr. Nythal.”

  Jaron waited until the door had closed to punch the chair in frustration. The soft leather-derived material gave with his fist, but it still hurt like a bitch. He shook his hand out while pacing in agitation across an office whose walls now threatened to close in around him.

  He forced himself to wait five minutes, then another five, before leaving
the office. Once outside he began hurrying down the street, but slowed as he realized he may be under surveillance. It seemed impossible—or rather would have seemed impossible until this morning. Now there lurked a cop in the eyes of every pedestrian.

  But he only needed to get outside any possible electronic monitoring; then whatever surveillance he had could go fuck themselves for all the good it would do them.

  When he reached the riverfront he stopped to purchase a breakfast gyro. A nice touch, he thought. He wandered over and rested against the railing, for all intents and purposes enjoying the blue-tinged morning light reflecting off the rippling water.

  Instead he opened a very private address and sent a very simple message.

  We have a problem.

  51

  EARTH

  VANCOUVER, EASC HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  “SHE DID what?”

  “She broke him out of the detention center. I didn’t even know until I received a message from her. I checked into it, and the records show him being released last night on a technicality. The surveillance recordings have been doctored, I assume by her.” Richard shook his head. “I didn’t realize she was capable of such a sophisticated hack.”

  Miriam laughed, though it carried an almost poignant edge. She sank deeper into her chair and abandoned any pretense of formality. The door was closed, and he was her oldest friend.

  “Trust me, she is. I probably don’t need to ask, but what was her justification?”

  “She again said he wasn’t here to spy on us, but rather to help us and request help in return. Also that we needed to get over this war and focus on the real threat.”

  “She’s gone then? I didn’t warrant a message.”

  “Yeah, they’re gone—at least there’s a transponder record of the Siyane using an exit corridor early this morning. I suppose she could have hacked it as well, but it seems more likely they’re actually gone.”

  “Well, that’s fantastic.” She paused to take a long sip of tea. “If she flies into the middle of this war and gets herself killed, I don’t think I…David would never forgive me, were he here.”

  “It wouldn’t be your fault, Miriam. He’d realize that, better than you.”

  “Maybe.” She held the teacup to her lips and breathed in the steam until the bitter pang of loss, still biting after twenty-three years, subsided back into the recesses.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps I did rush to judgment with respect to her companion.”

  Richard regarded her with a look of incredulity. “You think?”

  She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Fine. It is possible I overreacted a small amount. She just…she somehow manages to hit all my buttons, every damn time. I get so angry at her and I’ve no idea how to make her not be angry at me. Sometimes I wish…” her eyes closed “…I wish I could start over. But it’s thirty-six years too late, isn’t it?”

  “You may not be able to go back, but it doesn’t mean you can’t start over.”

  “I’m not so certain…and regardless, now is hardly the ideal time for such matters.” She ran a hand along her jaw and straightened up in the chair, shocked at the sentimentality she had allowed herself to display.

  She busied herself refilling her teacup. “In any event, I’ve never known her to let sex interfere with her better judgment, so perhaps she is correct about his intentions. Which introduces a whole new set of concerns.”

  “You think she’s sleeping with him?”

  A small, arguably devious smile ghosted across her face. “I don’t see why she wouldn’t be. Do you?”

  Richard’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Well, he’s Senecan….”

  “That excuse only works until you discover the person is merely an individual like any other.”

  His lips pursed together in a show of skepticism, but finally he gave up and chuckled in mild amusement. “Then no, I suppose I don’t.”

  “I didn’t think so.” She sighed, and the momentary levity evaporated. “Listen, is there any way you can keep her out of trouble over this? Keep her from being implicated?”

  It wasn’t the first time she had asked such a favor of a colleague, though it was the first time she had asked it of someone so high-ranking, and someone who was a personal friend. But he was a personal friend of Alexis, too, and would want to protect her for his own reasons.

  He shrugged. “I don’t really need to. There’s no evidence of her involvement—or any crime at all—beyond her message to me. Frankly, I’m inclined to simply stay quiet about the situation and let the record stand. He was released due to an administrative screw-up and that’s the end of it. In the absence of a trigger it’s unlikely the falsified records will be uncovered, and technically he hadn’t committed a crime other than providing a false identification, so….”

  She nodded. “Makes sense. It’s a reasonable plan.” She grimaced as a livecomm request appeared in her vision. After a pause she accepted it, but put it on broadcast.

  “Admiral Solovy, apologies for disturbing you.”

  She cocked an annoyed eyebrow at Richard. “Dr. LaRose, what can I do for you?”

  “Yes. I was wondering if you might possess another hard copy of your daughter’s data I would be able to borrow.”

  She and Richard both frowned in mild dismay. She knew Alexis had sent her Metis report to the Science Advisor; she had even greased the wheels a bit, albeit to limited avail. Since the EASC Board had a direct line to the Prime Minister she had viewed it as mildly repetitive, but most things in government were. “I’m not sure I understand the problem.”

  His throat could be heard clearing over the comm. “One of my researchers took the disk home with him last night to study, and he didn’t report to work today. It…well it seems he’s gone missing, and your daughter’s data with him.”

  “She has a name, Dr. LaRose, and a fair number of master’s degrees as well.”

  “Apologies. Ms. Solovy’s data. Admiral, I need another copy if possible.”

  Miriam frowned again. “You’ll need to be more clear, Doctor. Don’t you have her report?”

  “No…I mean I have it, but I require a physical disk to move ahead with it.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because I do. Regulation AAS 41767.239.0512c requires all reports be reviewed in physical form to verify their authenticity and—”

  “Didn’t you verify the authenticity of the physical disk when it arrived?”

  “Immediately upon receipt. But I must also retain it in order to advance its contents to the next level to accompany my recommendation.”

  Miriam was silent a moment. She glanced out the window then at Richard. She muted the comm and laughed; it felt weary. “I must say, sometimes I can almost see where Alexis is coming from.”

  He tilted his head in agreement, and she scowled as she reactivated the comm. “Doctor, are you certain, given all the material you have reviewed and requirements you have followed, you still require a physical disk of the data to proceed?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. You see the procedures are quite specific and—”

  “Fine. Very well. I will send a request to the vault for our hard copy to be checked out. Of course we have our own procedures in place on this end, so it may take several days for you to receive it. In the meantime, I would highly encourage you to act on the information Alexis provided you to the greatest extent you find yourself capable of doing.”

  52

  SIYANE

  SPACE, NORTH-CENTRAL QUADRANT

  * * *

  ALEX WAVED HER PALM in the direction of the cockpit to check their location. “We should be at Romane in just over an hour.”

  Caleb came up behind her, one arm encircling her waist and hugging her tight against him while he reached around with the other and set her plate on the table. “Excellent, plenty of time for breakfast.”

  She laughed and squeezed his hand resting on her abdomen before extricating herself and sitting
down. He had snuck upstairs while she showered and cooked panbrioche and roasted potato wedges and sliced up fresh grapefruit. She kept telling him he didn’t need to do all the cooking, but he thus far was showing no indication of listening.

  He retrieved his own plate from the counter and joined her at the table. She was already enthusiastically digging into what was a delicious breakfast; the panbrioche was so fluffy and tender she would have sworn he had spent the last two hours baking it if she hadn’t been curled up in his arms for much of the last two hours.

  He sat down, only to stare at his food. After a few seconds he picked up his fork—then set it back on his napkin and looked up at her. “Listen…before we arrive, there’s something I need to tell you about Mia.”

  “She’s your lover. I know.” She smiled over her fork and slid a potato wedge into her mouth.

  “What? No—I mean, not for several years now and—” His face screwed up at her. “How did you know?”

  She shrugged, a hint of a twinkle in her eye. She did enjoy confounding him, even if the topic was bound to be mildly uncomfortable. “Something in the tone of your voice when you told me about her. It implied a…familiarity beyond that of a mere friend. You, um…well, you sounded like men do when they talk about women they’ve slept with.”

  “I did? Damn, I’m sorry.” He cringed and dragged a hand down his mouth to linger at his jaw. “As I was about to say, it happened several years ago, and it was never serious. We met on a mission over a decade ago. She helped me out, I helped her out, and eventually we became friends. Then a little more. But it was a…I’d drop by when I was in town kind of thing. And after a while we realized we made better friends than lovers.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean it. I wanted you to know, should the past come up—and because I didn’t want to hide anything from you.”

  “Is she going to try to claw my eyes out?”

  “No. She is not now, nor has she ever been, in love with me. She’s far too savvy for anything such as that.”