—Cicely Janda, 2106.053.21.28 UT, indexed by Heraclitus 10 under Flux Imperative
Before she could leave for Priamos, Ariane had to finish giving her statement to Pilgrimage security. Captain Floros, performing as AFCAW recorder and representative, accompanied her to the new security offices. Unfortunately, once the very important members of the ICT learned about Ariane’s interview, it was impossible to keep them away. This made it quite a jaw-clenching episode for her.
“Why didn’t you immediately call after looking into Sergeant Joyce’s room?” State Prince Duval’s eyes were narrow with suspicion.
“Because I didn’t have any reason to suspect an attempt on his life,” she said.
“I should think it obvious that something was amiss.”
As her jaw started tightening in response, Commander Meredith leaned forward and put his hand on Duval’s arm in restraint. “Please, SP, let my people do the questioning. That’s their job.”
From her position in front of this august audience, Ariane watched Duval’s face tense in discomfort. This was cross-cultural clashing at its best, and she tried not to smile. Terrans enjoyed pushing Autonomists and crèche-get about in awkward conversational dances, but they rarely enjoyed being touched in public.
Duval muttered, “Excuse me,” and pulled his arm away.
Meredith flashed her a look of un-Commanderly wicked humor as he faced forward again. She took this as a signal that she was, for the most part, among friends.
“Gentlemen, please hold your questions.” Benjamin Pilgrimage, who was presumably taking her statement, finally regained control. “Continue, Major Kedros.”
She described what happened in Joyce’s clinic room, up to the part where Warrior Commander discovered the antipersonnel grenade. “I saw Warrior Commander close its hands over the Terran APG-thirty-thirty-four and snap the connection between sensor and grenade. I covered Joyce and heard the detonation, but the sound was muffled.”
This caused a flurry of questions.
“Its hands? The force of a thirty- thirty-four must be . . .” Floros started poking at her slate.
“How could you possibly identify it?” said SP Duval. “Claiming it’s an old Terran antipersonnel grenade is inflammatory, Major. Besides, the model you picked isn’t in our inventory anymore.”
“I’m trained to recognize older Terran weapons, considering their potential to pop up in the strangest places.”
“What?” SP Duval sputtered. “Senator Stephanos, this is insulting. Where’s the objective evidence?”
Stephanos leaned forward. His eyebrows were knotted together, a sign known throughout net-think as a forecast to his bad temper.
Benjamin tried to head off disaster, appealing to the ICT members. “Gentlemen, please. We all want to find the culprit. We don’t have to rely upon Major Kedros’s memory; we have physical evidence, starting with the contained output from the explosion.”
“Metallurgic analysis shows a signature consistent with Terran metals circa 2090 to 2096.” No one acknowledged Captain Floros’s comment.
Duval, though he’d previously demanded objective evidence, wasn’t swayed by these inopportune facts. “That evidence was handled by no fewer than three AFCAW soldiers before it got into your hands. It’s tainted.”
“We also have Warrior Commander,” Benjamin added.
“The Minoans agreed to give you a statement?” This was the first time Stephanos spoke.
“They haven’t answered our request yet. But we’re hopeful,” Benjamin said.
“Humph.” Stephanos’s grunt showed what he thought of Benjamin Pilgrimage’s hopes. “Major Kedros made the obvious safe choice in handing it over to AFCAW EOD. At the time, she considered it military ordnance, not evidence.”
“Yes, sir.” Ariane was relieved. Senator Stephanos should back his own military personnel, but after he’d come down on Edones, she had misgivings about his loyalties. “I didn’t know if the remains of the grenade might be explosive.”
“Kedros has proven she’s willing to be judge, jury, and executioner—why bother with judicial procedures?” Duval’s voice was sour.
Her stomach tensed. Her objections died on her lips as she saw the warning in Floros’s eyes. Even worse, Meredith didn’t come to her defense and Stephanos merely shook his head. She could see how the winds might blow, once it came time to testify to the ICT about sending the weapon and two isolationists into N-space.
“The question we should be asking is: What would have happened to the prosecution’s case if we’d lost Major Kedros and Sergeant Joyce? The two of them, in addition to SP Parmet, now comprise most of the prosecution’s eyewitness testimony after Dr. Rouxe’s death,” Stephanos said.
Meredith nodded.
“Meanwhile, Dr. Rouxe’s murderer may have gone anywhere,” Duval said.
“That’s unlikely, sir. No one can presently leave G-145,” Benjamin said.
“He or she could be anywhere in this solar system.”
“We’re examining all requests for travel on or off the Pilgrimage and we’re tracking everyone in the solar system. There are fewer than five thousand people in G-145 and we can find any one of them.” Benjamin stood stiffly; he didn’t look comfortable in his new uniform.
“And yet these procedures didn’t ensure safety for your visitors, considering the recent attempt upon the Aether’s Touch,” Stephanos said.
“Why would that have anything to do with the ICT?” Duval’s lip lifted in a sneer that had to be habitual, given the deep lines radiating from his nose to his mouth.
“Please. Quiet, everyone.” Benjamin’s tone was ragged. “I’d like to get a statement from Major Kedros before she goes off active duty at the end of the day. She’ll be testifying to the ICT from Beta Priamos Station, like SP Parmet.”
Benjamin finally finished recording Ariane’s statement. He also asked her what she saw at the arraignment, which was no more than the hundreds of other witnesses in the amphitheater. She accounted for her movements before the arraignment and during the period when the bot menaced Aether’s Touch.
While she answered the questions, State Prince Duval watched her with narrowed eyes. He didn’t interrupt her, but he couldn’t resist doubtful snorts here and there.
“Thank you for your time, Major Kedros,” Benjamin said. “Since you’ve been summoned as witness to the Interstellar Criminal Tribunal, you must keep us appraised of your whereabouts at all times. You may testify from Beta Priamos, but you cannot leave this solar system.”
She didn’t feel relief until she reached the Aether’s Touch and took off her uniform. What shift was it? It didn’t matter; she fell onto her bunk and slipped into exhausted sleep.
The ship’s systems woke Ariane. “Notice: disconnection in four hours. Undocking procedures must begin.”
The message repeated until she mumbled, “I’m awake. Notice acknowledged.”
The status light on Matt’s quarters indicated they were occupied. As she quietly passed by, she heard Diana’s voice in a low unintelligible murmur. She climbed up to the control deck and started the undocking checklists.
She was checking the provision orders and deliveries when Hal Bokori called. Guilt washed over her as she answered. She’d forgotten about him during the chaos of murders, bombs, and skullduggery. Their arrangements were usually loose, meeting up for drinking and socializing, although she knew Hal hoped for more.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner,” he said when she opened the view port and answered.
“What?”
“We’re disconnecting in a few minutes. It’s just been frantic work, right up to this moment. I finally have time for a quick call.” His light green eyes, such a contrast to his dark skin, searched her face for reaction.
She moved her hand along the edge of the console as he talked, feeling the symbols and tapping. Beside the view port with his face, the list of departures from the Pilgrimage appeared. Hal was the primary loadmaster for the Go
lden Bull, which was currently undocking and leaving for Beta Priamos.
“This has been my worst nightmare—we’re moving crèches,” Hal continued, obviously thinking that she was up to date on current events. “Worse, there’s hardly any safety data on these artificial wombs, as Dr. Lee calls them. Since we’re staying in real-space, we can use the gravity generator, and we’ve gimbaled the monstrosities—”
She managed to break into his monologue. “Hal, I have to apologize too. You’re not the only one who’s been absorbed with—other matters.” Like dodging grenades.
His eyebrows went up.
“We’re also heading to Beta Priamos. I was going to call you, see if you wanted to have a drink.” She was ashamed the lie came out so effortlessly and she looked away as she tapped a status question: Who else was traveling on the Golden Bull?
When the manifest displayed, she swallowed hard to hide her dismay. Besides the crew, there were almost forty passengers, all of whom had supposedly been “cleared” by the Pilgrimage security office. As she expected, Lee was escorting Abram’s embryonic children to Beta Priamos. David Ray was going to Priamos to work for Aether Exploration. Nineteen Terrans were also listed on the passenger manifest, including Dr. Istaga. How had he convinced Pilgrimage security that he needed to get to the R&D center of the system?
Hal was smiling when she again made eye contact. “Then this isn’t good-bye. See you in a day or two?”
She nodded. He had an undertone of relief in his voice. Perhaps he didn’t want to make any more of their relationship than she did. We’re a couple of lonely people who use each other as an excuse to drink, nothing more.
“Good.” Hal gave her his unique and confident smile. “See you at the Stellar Shield for a drink or two.”
After Hal signed off, she tried not to contrast their good-bye with Matt and Diana, cocooned away in Matt’s quarters below. To distract herself, she turned to provisioning and preparing to disconnect the ship. She pulled out her slate and alternated ship preparations with her military mission research, consolidated her notes on the events of the past two days.
After authorizing a delivery of food stores, she opened the folder on Joyce’s mission. She had his pre- mission notes on Maria, but he hadn’t added anything to them and he wasn’t going to, not for a day or two. He was still unconscious, with a low respiration rate and heartbeat. The medics were trying to filter the sedative out of his system.
She yawned and closed the documents, putting down her slate. She’d completed an extraction mission several years ago, retrieving a witness from a dangerous fringe colony where neither Terran nor Autonomous law had any control. Extractions were difficult to plan before visiting the site, but Maria’s case didn’t require extraction. Directorate protocol dictated she do everything she could to keep Maria in place, as a continuing source of intelligence.
“Ari?”
Matt’s call from the airlock jolted her. “Yes?”
“I’m going to walk Diana back to the Bright Crescent.” No surprise there; the new lovers were postponing their separation as long as possible. “I’ll take over disconnection when I get back. And turn Muse Three on, for Gaia’s sake. You know it needs the interaction.”
Grumbling about distracting pests under her breath, she tapped the commands to allow Muse 3 input and the capability to vocalize.
“Hey, Muse.” She was tired of using the model number. “Muse 3” was the AI’s unique identifier but in all practicality, there were no other Muse models in existence.
“Good day, Ari. Do you need help with disconnection checklists?”
She sighed; the AI apparently wanted interaction. “No, Muse. By the way, I thought you were handling the message board and comm.”
“Matt changed my responsibilities, perhaps because I did something wrong. You could ask Matt to explain his decision.” The wheedling tone of his maker, Nestor, came through. However, Muse 3 was more childlike than Nestor and made her smile.
“No, Muse, I can’t.” Her face, and her mood, relaxed as she grinned. “You’ll have to ask Matt yourself.”
The dockside cam-eye displayed a view of Matt and Diana, who was dressed in her civilian clothes with a duffel bag hanging from her shoulder. They walked down the ramp toward the main connection ring, where they turned and stepped out of view.
“Why is Matt leaving the ship when the disconnection checklists have started? He has never done that before.”
She picked her words carefully in answering, hesitant to step into the quagmire of human relationships. “Matt is escorting Diana back to her ship, giving her a personal good-bye.”
“The personal good-bye, which I find defined as a face-to-face interaction, is also defined as a gift?”
“Well . . .” Trying to verbalize these simple acts for Muse 3 took some thought. “Matt is assuring Diana of her importance in his life and thanking her for her company.”
She was pleased with her succinct definition, but not with her feelings. The gloom she’d felt of late, the weighty guilt of Ura-Guinn, had mixed with something else that had the unmistakable tang of jealousy. She didn’t resent Matt’s foray into a sincere relationship, the first she’d seen him have, and she didn’t begrudge Oleander for capturing Matt’s attention. Or did she?
“Should you give a personal good-bye to the Minoan warrior, for saving your life?” Muse 3 moved a cam-eye view into the center of her console. Warrior Commander, by now a standard fixture, stood motionless at the intersection of the dock and the ring corridor.
“That’s not the same, Muse.” She was almost to the point where she didn’t notice the Minoan and now she chewed her lip contemplatively. The Minoans weren’t supposed to understand individuality, right? But there was no denying the fact they had distinctive reactions to different humans.
“You’ve made an interesting suggestion, Muse,” she murmured as she left the control deck.
The docks on the Pilgrimage were bland and uninteresting when compared to Autonomist habitats, but at least there was a display to the right of the airlock showing their departure time and status. Out of habit, she checked it.
The Minoan warrior stood with arms crossed over chest, using a human- looking stance. It ignored the traffic on the main ring. A cargo lift rumbled by and the handlers watched Warrior Commander with guarded curiosity. She walked quietly down the ramp to stand in front of the Minoan.
“I have questions for you, Warrior Commander.” Since she couldn’t know if the Minoan was actually looking at her, she pressed on. “Have you stayed on the Pilgrimage purely to protect me?”
Remembering her training, she waited. Net-think hypothesized the Minoans considered periods of silence to be respectful. In that case, Warrior Commander had extremely high esteem for her, because she seemed to wait forever before the slight negative nod. Well, chuck that theory.
She tried again. “Is my protection within your duties?”
This time Warrior Commander rewarded her, eventually, with an affirmative nod.
“What will you do when my ship leaves for Beta Priamos?”
Warrior Commander used its grating voice. “I will join Knossos-ship.”
The Minoans called all their space- faring vehicles “Knossos-ship,” but since this warrior commanded all Minoan assets within this solar system, it probably meant the warship. She wondered if the warship would keep its position near the Pilgrimage, and when Warrior Commander didn’t elaborate any further, she asked, “Will Knossos-ship remain in its current position?”
She wasn’t surprised at the lack of response. Minoan ship movements were forbidden territory. She gave the warrior a respectful nod. “Farewell, Warrior Commander.”
As she returned to the Aether’s Touch, she figured it never hurt to be polite to aliens.
At 23:07, Universal Time, approximately six hours after the Golden Bull departed and approximately two and a half hours after the Aether’s Touch undocked, Tammy Jean Pilgrimage had to enter the general counsel’s
office. The general counsel’s office was locked up, and the acting general counsel wanted Tammy Jean to find a slate that held a particular legal brief.
Even though she had permission to be there, Tammy Jean was nervous. She’d just begun training in Legal, and the impressive legend beside the door said, GENERAL COUNSEL, DAVID RAY PILGRIMAGE, RETURNING 2107.01.05. She tapped in the code she’d been given. The door slid open and the lights in the office began to brighten. She listened for a security warning.
Well, it’s not like I’m a criminal, she thought, as she timidly stepped over the threshold. She never heard the faint snap of the wire. The APG- 3034 exploded from the left of the doorframe. Designed to maim and wound, it blew small pellets of shrapnel in a fan-shaped pattern, cutting through her legs. As she went down, whooping and shrieking alarms went off, signaling structural damage and smoke.
Lucky for Tammy Jean, who had a bright future in Legal, there was no decompression and no loss of atmosphere. The grenade had been placed to cause damage in a low, downward pattern, so she didn’t catch any shrapnel above her hips. She would probably live, provided she was treated immediately for shock and blood loss.
CHAPTER 8
Here’s another installment of my real-time coverage of the Tribunal in G-145: This morning was all about recovery, as the prosecution rebuilt its case against the accused isolationists. With the loss of Dr. Rouxe as star witness, they’ve rearranged their presentation of evidence and testimony. They’ll start with the hijacking of the Pilgrimage III. . . .
—Dr. Net-head Stavros, 2106.054.09.30 UT, indexed by Heraclitus 13, Democritus 8 under Conflict, Cause and Effect Imperatives
“Go get some rest,” Matt told Ari. When she looked Gat him doubtfully, he added, “I’ve got a class C license, remember? I can watch thrust-brake diagrams as well as any other hominid.”
She sniffed. “You’ve made your point, because a chimp could get a class C real-space license. Just make sure our gravity generator is bleeding gee by—”
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