Pathfinder
Page 8
“Aether’s Touch, we recommend waiting for our team.”
He ignored the message and fired.
“Maintenance One, I’ve fired a soft dispersive- force slug. The bot just took—” He stopped to calculate forces and, in the view port, saw the bot try to compensate with thrusters and—uh-oh. “I think the bot just exploded.”
“Not possible. You must have seen a canister rupture.”
“I saw an explosive force. You’d better report this to security. Send your shuttle to collect what you can for analysis.” He sent the vector track of the biggest cluster of debris.
“Aether’s Touch, we didn’t have cam-eye coverage—”
“I’ll attach it to my report. You’ve got another security problem, Pilgrimage Maintenance One.” Matt tersely signed off.
Bots used in space were designed to cause minimal damage when they ruptured. They weren’t supposed to fly into lots of small pieces, even from compressed gas canister rupture. If the bot had been closer, he’d have needed his expensive high-grade active armor. Thank Gaia that Aether’s Touch was tougher than the normal exploration vessel.
My ship was just targeted by saboteurs. Matt took a moment to get his brain around that. The Pilgrimage wasn’t a safe haven, even after all its security upgrades.
After the hatch closed behind the senator, Ariane was caught off guard by Edones’s sudden ire. “What’s your problem, Major? You save an entire solar system from frying, and crack under the pressure of being a hero?” Edones’s biting voice felt like the slap of cold water on her face.
“Excuse me?” She met his icy gaze with her own. She sat back down. “Sir?”
“Your maudlin behavior. Your drinking. Didn’t you realize that by volunteering for addiction counseling, your superior—that’s me, if you’re not up to speed here—is required to report any abuse of alcohol or drugs. Why do you think I called in Mr. Journey last night?”
She flushed, but stayed silent.
“I can’t have your attention focused at the bottom of a bottle. Not right now.”
Her embarrassment turned to anger. “Owen, if you haven’t noticed, the Feeds are reporting whatever can be discerned, or guessed, about the Ura-Guinn detonation.” Her hands balled into fists, while the ghosts started rustling again in her brain. “They’re trying to piece together what happened, find out who survived. You can’t know how distracting it is to be reminded of—that.”
She saw his eyes flicker when she used his first name. It had almost become a code word, an indication she wasn’t in “military mode,” even if she currently wore the uniform. Her hands opened, only to intertwine and grip each other tensely.
He sat silently and considered her. After methodically restoring the secure privacy shield, he spoke in a mild tone. “Remember, the telescope data is decades behind us. We won’t know about individual survivors until the generational ship gets to Ura- Guinn. You’re going to have to deal with sensationalism and conjecture in the meantime.”
He was right, but entirely unhelpful. She swallowed, her throat tight, and nodded.
“You followed orders and did your duty. AFCAW will always protect you, as long as you wear that uniform,” he added.
As long as I wear this uniform. She looked down. “I still put on this uniform because I believe in Pax Minoica, if nothing else.” She suppressed a bleak chuckle. “Otherwise, it hasn’t been much protection.”
“And neither have I, being remiss in my duties as a supervisor.”
“Duties?” She looked up at his sober tone.
“I should have recognized you had a problem. Even though neural probes are forbidden due to your background, I should have put you into addiction counseling sooner.”
She looked away. Knowing Owen Edones as long as she had, she recognized this as his one and only warning shot. Straighten up and fly by the book. Since Edones focused on results, he was less inclined to worry about borderline behavior in his people, but once he advised about such behavior—she’d better listen. She remembered the senator’s similar warning.
“What’ll happen to you when the Senate gets around to nitpicking and second-guessing your decisions?” she asked.
“Since each Assassinator missile costs several million HKD, shooting off sixteen of them was certain to have repercussions. Particularly when our most fiscally conservative party controls the Senate.” Edones picked up his slate.
Ariane shifted her weight, uncomfortable despite the chair’s efforts. If someone replaced Colonel Edones as head of the Special Operations Division of the Directorate of Intelligence, people and policies would change. There wasn’t another colonel in AFCAW with Edones’s experience—she remembered the earnest face of young Lieutenant Owen Edones, as he explained how her new identity would work and the risks of the experimental, but voluntary, rejuv procedures.
Self-consciously, she raised her fingertips to stroke the smooth line of her jaw. Rejuv, as it currently existed, was rarely successful. The only reason she wasn’t a coddled lab rat having her life documented for the advancement of human biochemistry, was due to Owen’s personal commitment to give her a shiny new life. She ignored the inner voice that spitefully told her she’d ruined this life as she looked at the lines developing on Owen’s face. At some point, he’d passed her in apparent age. Would a different division head be inclined to maintain a Reservist slot for someone who was, frankly, both an embarrassment and annoyance to the Consortium?
“Is your career in jeopardy?” she asked.
“Heads are rolling above me, but the mitigating factor is that we knew the Terrans had piss-poor weapons security, because we watch a good many people who fall outside our purview.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, Major. I can defend myself in the political arena.” Colonel Owen Edones gave her the brusque little smile that told her this subject was closed. He tapped his slate. “Let’s talk about what you’ll be doing. I’ve sent your orders to Admin and they’ll be ready to sign. It’s a plainclothes mission and you’ll be able to go to Priamos with your Mr. Journey.”
She ignored the dig. Matt wasn’t her Mr. Journey, but Edones always tried to goad her into exposing personal details about her life. “Matt’s my employer, and he’s stood by me. I won’t take a mission that’ll injure his reputation or his business.”
“In this case, there’s no conflict of interest. Since I’m not getting any more personnel, I need you to pick up Joyce’s mission.” He nodded at her slate on the arm of the chair. “You should have access to the case file.”
She saw the special information access form pop up on her slate and thumbed acceptance. The case file was categorized “Kressida” and she read it warily. Her lips tightened. “You’re peddling shit from the Great Bull itself, as my employer would say. No one needs to defect from the Terran League since they instituted their Open Gates policy.”
“The gates aren’t open for everybody. In particular, prior TEBI agents.”
“Why would we want Maria Guillotte?” Saying that name gave her a bad taste. She’d added Maria’s statement regarding Abram’s takeover to her report, but avoided speaking with her directly. Interviewing the woman who had kidnapped her last year was low on her list of fun things to do.
“She can provide recent information on TEBI. The Terrans say they’re dismantling the organization and it only has domestic tasking, but we think otherwise. If Dr. Rouxe was killed by a TEBI weapon, then she may provide support for your Istaga- Andre theory. On a more personal note, Maria knows far more than we do about what Cipher did on Karthage Point—particularly how Cipher convinced a Terran mole in AFCAW to do her dirty deeds.”
Okay, so Maria might be useful. Cipher was part of the crew on the mission that took out Ura-Guinn, and she had earned her nickname as a cryptography specialist, although she wasn’t too shabby with explosives, either. When she decided that everyone who processed the weapon release orders for Ura-Guinn had to die, including her former crewmates, she used a
ll her specialties toward that end. Karthage Point was still upgrading the security systems that Cipher had infiltrated, as well as the environmental controls she’d used to kill the station commander. In addition to cleverly subverting those systems, Cipher also needed a pair of hands on the inside. These hands belonged to an AFCAW Lieutenant Colonel, whom Ariane identified as a Terran Intelligence operative, but there were gaps in their knowledge: for instance, how did Cipher manage to “activate” a Terran mole? Someone who had TEBI connections might be able to fill in those blanks. Someone like Maria.
Ariane read more, while Edones waited. Maria had contacted the Directorate after her favorite father died, leaving her with three estranged parents. The case file assumed this was the instigating factor for Maria’s defection request. Joyce was initially assigned to contact and negotiate.
“This file says she’s to remain in place, but she requested relocation and asylum on a Consortium prime planet.” Ariane looked up, questioning the contradiction.
“She’ll be most useful if she stays on Parmet’s staff. That’s all Sergeant Joyce was authorized to offer.”
“And did she agree?”
“You’ve got everything I know. The Sergeant didn’t have time to report before Abram’s Great Unpleasantness started. Hopefully he can brief you before you arrive at Beta Priamos.”
She didn’t show her distaste. Exploiting informers and defectors was the sleazy side of intelligence, in her opinion. The task looked even more disagreeable when she considered the subject.
Edones’s slate buzzed with an AFCAW-generated emergency message, the only type allowed through the security shield.
“It’s out of Pilgrimage security.” He dropped the shield and pointed the slate at the wall so they could both watch the report.
Her jaw dropped in surprise as the video from Aether’s Touch ran, concurrent with Matt’s voice-over. She immediately defended Matt’s actions. “The bot didn’t back off, so it was within his rights to fire. Classic defense steps, per CAW Space Emergency Procedures.”
Edones ran the disintegration of the bot in slow motion. Grudgingly, he said, “Mr. Journey appears to be correct. There’s a visible shock wave, courtesy of the escaped gas. Luckily for Mr. Journey and his ship, it didn’t have a lot of power.”
“And, once again, using an amount of explosive small enough to get by the Pilgrimage airlock sniffers. Current ComNet equipment would have caught it.”
“Yes. We’d better force some of our equipment upon Pilgrimage security. Of course, the senator will insist they pay for it.” Edones’s voice was grim as he ran through the explosive sequence again. “I’ll have Floros analyze this.”
“I’m beginning to take this personally.” She watched Edones’s face. “I’m the common target between the attacks and considering the methods, I might suspect that Cipher is back.”
Edones blinked, surprise moving so quickly through his eyes that she might have missed it if she didn’t know him. “Why would you suspect Lieutenant Paulos?”
“Because she’s not dead, is she? If you had confirmation of her death, you’d have told me. Instead, you’ve been suspiciously quiet.”
“You needn’t worry about her arriving here, in G- 145.” Edones was his carefully bland self again. “We go through each arriving ship’s manifest and examine the background of every Autonomist. We know what to look for, when it comes to ComNet records. So, unless Paulos can pass for a Terran, she hasn’t entered this solar system.”
She agreed. Cipher didn’t have the right body build to mingle, unnoticed, with Terrans. She was far from being tall enough, or slim enough, and her facial features weren’t unremarkable. Even if she suppressed her urge for bright hair, skin, and clothing colors, Cipher would still stand out.
“However, you’re right to suspect you’re a target,” Edones said.
“And if this trouble follows me to Priamos?”
“I hope that’s the case, Major.” When her eyebrows went up, he added, “If you pull even one culprit to Beta Priamos, please drag along the one with a fetish for explosives.”
“But that’d put everyone on Beta Priamos Station in danger.” Not that she’d mention it, but she was tired of dealing with explosions and decompressions.
“They have less than two hundred and fifty civilians, mostly contractors, plus three companies of Terran special forces, with a platoon of our commandos. By comparison, we’re trying to protect nine hundred civilians on the Pilgrimage Three, including visiting dignitaries, Feed correspondents, and one hundred twenty-seven children under the age of sixteen.” Edones cocked an eyebrow and his voice was heavy with sarcasm. “By all means, Major, please lure the miscreants to Priamos.”
She didn’t have a response. When he put it that way, hanging her out as bait, again, seemed to be the sensible course. Edones’s logic was always sound, even if it was ruthless. She looked at her slate and scrolled through her queue until she found the orders, which she accepted with a thumbprint.
“You also have authority to take emergency mission command of the platoon on Beta Priamos. That doesn’t give you command of day-to-day operations, but you should introduce yourself to Pike and stay on his good side. Remind him that both you and State Prince Parmet must be kept safe so you can testify to the ICT.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure my employers understand I have to give testimony. Am I dismissed?”
“One more thing, Major.” He paused. “Don’t trust Maria, or forget she was TEBI.”
Well, that didn’t seem likely. She sighed as she opened the hatch. No Directorate orders would be complete without some cryptic warning from Edones.
News travels fast on a generational ship. By the time Matt met David Ray in Dr. Lee’s lab, everyone had heard about the exploding bot. Decompression and module integrity was important to everyone on the behemoth that was, after all, only a fragile spacefaring habitat.
“No damage to the ship?” David Ray pointed at the status display near the door.
“They think it’s a similar device to what nearly killed Sergeant Joyce and Ariane. At least that’s what Denise overheard from Benjamin. She told Barnes, who told Randall, who told Jamie and me.” Lee efficiently moved a circular wheel of samples between equipment as she spoke, her tall thin body moving gracefully.
Matt’s eyebrows jumped. Once again, the lack of privacy aboard a generational ship didn’t bring back fond memories. The level of privacy Autonomists insisted upon was considered unhealthy, inconsiderate, and self-serving by the generational lines. However, he’d gotten used to the sense of freedom he felt from the “self-serving” privacy. He was saved from commenting by a call on his ear bug.
“Matt, are you okay? How’s Aether’s Touch?” It was Ari. “We saw your report.”
“Where are you?”
“Leaving the Bright Crescent. I’m released from uniformed active duty, so David Ray can negotiate with the Minoans. I’ll have to stay in-system, until I testify to the Tribunal.”
Uniformed active duty. She’d used those careful words for a reason. He paused, laying his hand on the edge of the cold smooth lab counter and softly drumming his fingers. Did it matter, for the Minoan contract, that she was doing some skullduggery for Edones? “Good. Considering that your employment was nonnegotiable, we’ve probably got the contract.”
Matt terminated the call to find David Ray nodding. Sure, it was great to have the work, but being employed by aliens? This would be new territory for all of them.
“We’re not the only ones going to Beta Priamos Station. They’re moving three artificial wombs out there,” David Ray added. Crèches in use were rarely moved, even when occupants were in the embryonic period.
“Abram’s children.” Matt easily guessed which crèches were being moved. He couldn’t forget the isolationist aiming his weapon at one of the wombs, nor what the man’s body looked like after the Minoan beam weapon hit him. Matt closed his eyes and shook his head hard, hoping to dislodge the image.
“Moving them will risk their health. Should they really be sent off-ship in such a rush?” Matt was used to speaking of those in crèches as if they were present. He already considered Nigel, Peter, and Charlotte Anne crew members.
David Ray shrugged. “The decision’s made.”
“But they listen to you, and to Dr. Lee.” He gestured toward the tall woman with his chin.
“I’m not on staff anymore; I’m on hiatus. Besides, Lee thinks it’s feasible and she’ll accompany them to Beta Priamos. She’ll make sure they’re safe.” David Ray grinned. “I’m not too upset about how things shook out.”
Indeed. David Ray and Lee had been almost inseparable since they’d recovered from the isolationist takeover. Matt suddenly remembered whom he was leaving docked at the Pilgrimage while he waltzed out to the gas giant Laomedon, its moon Priamos, and the Beta Priamos Station.
“I should tell Diana we’re leaving,” he said.
“Yes, you should,” Lee said.
CHAPTER 7
Net-think is so fickle. Notice how the Interstellar Criminal Tribunal in G- 145 eclipsed the Ura-Guinn news? Of course, we’re comparing absolute gibbering drama to dry data! I’m glued to my Feeds. . . .