“Then thank Leukos Industries for their consideration and tell them we may have an ‘opportunity for investment’ in the near future. If you stick to business, it’ll give us time.” Her stomach rumbled. She moved toward the hatch and the lower levels, which held their small galley and quarters.
“Time for what?”
“Time to learn why he’s so interested.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw suspicion cross Matt’s face. He probably sensed so much more: Time for me to uncover Tahir’s killer, find a saboteur who uses TEBI grenades, and get our new double agent on the Directorate payroll. With such an impossible list, she felt tired. She also felt ashamed, because she was still hiding her mission from Matt.
“Was he ever more than just your commander?”
The sharp words made her pause. Matt’s question almost sounded jealous. The small kernel of fluttering pleasure was immediately overwhelmed by embarrassment as she felt the shadow of Diana Oleander. Was she really hoping for Matt’s attention, when he was involved with a talented, attractive, young officer, unfettered by emotional baggage? Oleander made Matt happy, and she shouldn’t mess that up.
“Well?”
“How many times have you and Oleander talked, since you left the Pilgrimage?” She raised an eyebrow.
“That’s none of your business.” His voice abruptly fell. “Point taken.”
“Good. I’m cooking cabbage rolls for lunch. Want any?” Her smile widened at the way his nose and upper lip twitched. She could lighten the moment by tormenting his crèche-get senses, but she couldn’t lighten the load of guilt and secrets she carried. Everything had changed now that Matt knew her past, and yet, nothing had changed inside her.
Procedures and security at the Beta Priamos Station had changed significantly. No one, particularly the Terran State Prince now responsible for station operations, wanted to be caught unawares again. Everything was tighter. Ariane noticed on the Space Docking Automated Transmission System, or S- DATS display, that Beta Priamos had finally upgraded their dock-approach software so the autopilot on Aether’s Touch could interface. After docking, hard-faced inspectors came aboard to check for undeclared passengers or dangerous cargo. By their bearing and the way their hands kept drifting toward absent sidearms, she figured they were nonuniformed Terran Space Forces. Matt’s tight jaw, as he answered standard questions asked at other ports, said he wasn’t fooled by the civilian attire.
After they docked, Matt scheduled the meeting with Parmet. She hid her misgivings. Saying she could face Parmet was easy, but actually doing it—much more difficult.
“Shouldn’t we wait until the Golden Bull docks, so David Ray can go with us?” She hurried to keep pace along the curved corridor.
“Parmet wanted to see us, so let’s get this over with.” Matt’s stride never faltered. “Anyway, we need his approval to travel down to the moon’s surface.”
They moved through a ring and climbed a vertical to the level that housed Command Post. Parmet’s offices were located near CP. A uniformed and armored TSF, stationed at the junction of the vertical, nodded at them as they stepped out of the hatch.
“Where are our guys?” Matt whispered after they were well away from the guard. “And what is he packing?”
She smiled. Sometimes Matt seemed completely Autonomist: If he needed help, he wanted his own military around. “You’ll have to ask Parmet. As for the TSF, he’s got a short-range stun pistol on his belt and a civilian shotgun slung, probably loaded with rubber-covered riot-shot.”
He frowned. “That doesn’t sound like military issue.”
“It isn’t. They’re trying to fill the civilian role of constable or security. Like those.” She gestured toward the civilian security appearing over the hallway horizon. They were approaching Parmet’s office and outside the hatch stood two brutes, one male and one female, rigged in slick expensive civilian armor and exoskeletons that surpassed most military-grade gear.
“Parmet’s locked this station down tighter than the sphincter on the Greaaaaat—” Matt gargled his last word, trying to swallow any mention of the Great Bull as a red-robed Minoan emissary stepped out of a hatchway down the corridor, followed by a guardian. The civilian security brutes split their attention between the two approaching parties, although the Minoan seemed intent upon intercepting her and Matt. They met in front of the guards to Parmet’s office.
“Contractor Director?” Matt said cautiously.
There were the requisite pauses in the conversation, but Contractor Director was a speed-speaking demon compared to Warrior Commander. The emissary’s horns waved formally in acknowledgment, first toward Matt, then Ariane. “Owner of Aether Exploration, Ariane-as-Kedros.”
She bowed her head slightly, relieved to avoid the titles “Breaker of Treaties” and “Destroyer of Worlds.” But why didn’t they use “Explorer of Solar Systems,” since that was the position they wanted her to fill, per the contract? Very puzzling. Matt was frowning also.
“You do not need to rent work facilities,” Contractor Director said. “Equipment and premises leased by Hellas Nautikos can be transferred to Aether Exploration. However, there is individualized property that must be inventoried and delivered, once ownership is traced. Can this be done by Aether Exploration?”
Matt gaped as he tried to understand the convoluted question, but she grasped the meaning immediately.
“Personal effects, to be returned to next of kin?” Her heart felt squeezed as she remembered Mr. Barone, a big quiet man with a deep voice, who picked his words carefully. He’d been the highest- ranking Nautikos supervisor. He and his employees on Priamos were dead, executed, the target of Abram’s rage because they worked for the aliens that had attacked Abram’s home.
Contractor Director made a fluid gesture with a black-gloved hand, which she interpreted as helplessness. “We do not understand the delicate traditions involved with your familial grief.”
This was the last sort of duty she wanted, but someone would have to do it. She and Matt exchanged a nod.
“We can take care of it,” he said.
That apparently satisfied Contractor Director, who moved away while saying, “The contract kick-off meeting will be at sixteen hundred tomorrow.”
The haste with which the Minoan ended the conversation was downright human, almost unseemly so. Matt and Ariane were left in front of the silent civilian guards, un-moving except for an occasional swivel of their heads.
Matt shrugged and turned. “We’re Mr. Journey and Ms. Kedros, of Aether Exploration.”
“We need to check your identification.” After loading and perusing their ID data in her slate, the female security officer spoke quietly into her implanted mike.
The double doors behind the guards opened ponderously. They were made to handle pressure, but still look like their “grav-hugger equivalents,” as Matt would say. Waiting behind the doors was TSF Ensign Walker, the current head of security on Beta Priamos.
“If you’ll follow me, please,” Walker said.
The ensign led them to a conference room. Just inside the hatch was a tasty layout of pastries, snacks, and a hot drink dispenser filled with real Hellas Kaffi.
“Make yourselves comfortable. The SP will be here in a moment.” Walker sat down at the table installed in the center of the room.
Always ready to eat, Ariane grabbed two small phyllo pies from the counter. Matt was more cautious, sniffing and carefully examining the label on the dispenser. Once he was satisfied with the contents, he injected a healthy amount into a cup with a self-sealing top.
She popped the little pies in her mouth; they had a sweet nutty filling and the thin parchment pastry melted in her mouth. Matt settled himself across from the ensign, and she sat down next to Matt.
“You’ll both be happy to learn we’ve installed ComNet-grade explosive sniffers at all station portals.” Ensign Walker gave them a perfunctory smile. “Especially you, Ms. Kedros. When we heard you were coming, we rushed the installat
ion.”
What a smart-ass. Her polite smile hardened. “That’s thoughtful of you, Ensign, but—”
The rest of her retort died on her lips as State Prince Parmet and his co-wife Garnet entered the room. She’d forgotten the presence Parmet could project. He was tall and, like most Terrans, had perfect body symmetry. Adept at somaural projection, his dignified stride made Garnet, hurrying behind him, seem obsequious by comparison. Ensign Walker stood up, smartly at attention, and Matt automatically followed suit in a civilian parody. She, however, took her time and haphazardly pushed herself out of her seat. Parmet wasn’t her leader. Since Terrans were quick to interpret body language, Garnet’s eyes narrowed. Ariane nodded at her with casual recognition.
“Take your seats, please.” Parmet ignored her insolent posture and seated himself at the head of the table. He made introductions, for Matt’s benefit. As usual, this social dance displayed the Terran love of names that tied back to the home planet. “My wife Garnet Westwind Tachawee has taken on some of the reporting tasks required by your S-triple-ECB.”
“They’re not mine.” Matt refused ownership of that infamous bureaucracy.
“We agree, Mr. Journey, after we waded through their regulations,” Walker said. “We needed to see whether you could work for yourself, because this exploration process was starting to look like a money-laundering scheme.”
Matt’s mouth fell open, but Garnet smoothly interrupted. “Forgive the ensign. He’s just expressing our frustration with the Consortium’s complex procedures.” Garnet’s eyes flashed sideways toward Ensign Walker. “We understand the percentage Aether Exploration makes from the leases is to help you recover your earlier prospecting costs. That percentage has nothing to do with the current contract you’ve signed, although we were concerned about possible conflicts of interest.”
“And the fact you’re taking Minoan money,” added Walker.
“We’re hired by a company incorporated on Hellas Prime. Besides, we can’t benefit from the leases until this research generates spinoff technology.” Matt started explaining the financial relationships.
Bored, Ariane’s attention wandered about the room and lit upon Parmet, who was watching her. This didn’t surprise her. Parmet liked to watch his staff prod others so he could study reactions. He was talented at somaural reading, which could interpret everything from unconscious body language to subtle Martian hand signals. With a shock, she realized her eyes were locked with Parmet’s. The green of his eyes was flecked with brown, but they weren’t warm. She looked away. She had no way to prevent Parmet from “reading” her, but she didn’t care. There was nothing he could learn as she listened to Matt and Garnet chat about contracts.
“Everything’s in order, including transfer of facilities leased by Nautikos. We’ll key the locks to your thumbprints.” Garnet’s voice was emotionless as she handed Matt’s slate back.
Mercifully, the meeting was wrapping up. She stood up with Matt. Walker and Garnet picked up their slates—everyone stopped at a motion from State Prince Parmet, who hadn’t risen.
“I’d like to speak with Major Kedros alone,” Parmet said. Garnet’s eyes widened.
“I’m not on active duty,” she said.
“Then I’d like a word with you, Ms. Kedros.”
“Only if I’m present. She’s my employee.” Matt’s hands suddenly rested on her shoulders, protective.
“No.” She touched his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Wait for me, okay?”
“You bet,” Matt muttered.
Everybody reluctantly filed out of the room. Garnet left last, her lips pressed together. Ariane stayed standing, waiting.
“You don’t fool me, Major. You’re still wearing your uniform.”
CHAPTER 9
TEBI’s success with two-part poisons near the end of the war justified their research into more sophisticated assassination tools. The R&D was expensive, since each constituent of a poison must be specially designed for effective delivery. Whether the League considered TEBI’s investment worth . . .
—AFCAW Report on TEBI Weapons and Tactics (Declassified), 2101.242.12.00 UT, indexed by Democritus 12 under Metrics Imperatives
“Pardon?” Ariane looked down at her clean coveralls with the Aether Exploration logo. “You’re under orders. A plainclothes mission, perhaps?” He matched her sardonic tone.
She’d specifically avoided even thinking about Maria in his presence. Maybe he was fishing for a response. She smiled and returned the favor. “You needn’t worry about any Directorate missions, SP. It looks like Dr. Rouxe was killed with a sophisticated multicomponent poison, a common TEBI tool. Perhaps you should worry about Dr. Istaga, who’s stepping off the Golden Bull right about now.”
As a somaural master, Parmet wouldn’t reveal surprise unless he wanted her to see it. He nodded thoughtfully, as if he expected her comment. She glanced at the time displayed on her cuff; if everything went well, the Golden Bull had recently docked and Istaga would soon be on Parmet’s calendar.
“I look forward to seeing my previous interpreter,” Parmet said in a flat voice. “But you’re wrong about whether I should worry about your Directorate. I’m interested in everyone’s agenda, because I’ve recently received odd threatening messages.”
“Odd? I thought State Princes received threats all the time.”
“Not ones that know my private ComNet address; usually they end up in the public queue handled by my staff. And no one has previously threatened the family of a State Prince who let the destroyer of Ura-Guinn go free.”
His words, as well as his tone, chilled her. Being Autonomist, her reaction was to look around for recording nodes.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t allowed ComNet to encroach into this conference room. Everyone must carry their data on slates or implants.”
“How many people know about—me?” She sat back down.
“Not many.”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, uncomfortable with his intense scrutiny. “I hope you’re not suggesting the Directorate would stoop to sending threats, or involve your family.”
“My security determined the message came from inside G-145, so once again, I ask about your mission.” His eyes had gone from intense to glaring. “And save me from that prim protest, the Directorate doesn’t perform state assassinations. We both know what a slippery definition you’re using.”
Contrary to the Directorate, TEBI had claimed responsibility for assassinations during the war, but her words of objection stayed in her throat. She’d never been a hired killer. At least, that hadn’t been the original purpose of the mission. Her eyes lowered, and she stared at the generic gray deck without noticing it, the seams of displayable material blurring. There had been one covert mission when things went wrong, when she and Joyce wouldn’t have made a clean exit if she hadn’t . . . She shivered, clearing her head of the memory, and looked again at Parmet.
“Smart.” His facial muscles slid into neutrality. “Don’t say anything, Major, because there’s no need for either of us to explore the past. What I propose is cooperation.”
“What sort?”
“The sort where you use your skills to help me find my culprit, and I don’t throw you into protective custody. Ensign Walker already suggested that, after reading the case files from the Pilgrimage.”
“I’ve got no time to do charity work. Our employers have promised a full schedule.” She smiled. The smile was pretense, hiding the sinking feeling in her chest. G- 145 represented such potential, being the first place mankind had found evidence of an alien, but non-Minoan, civilization. What she longed for, hoped for, was to throw herself into this huge well of research and exploration. It was a chance to lose her guilt and ghosts, but then Edones assigned her to Mission Turncoat. The last thing she wanted was to add another pesky case on top of that, particularly one that kept dredging up ghosts. Besides, she was the last person who would willingly help Parmet. He hadn’t touched her persona
lly, but he’d ordered the kidnapping, torture, and then blackmailed her with Brandon’s safety.
“I’m not asking for extra time. At some point, you’ll stumble over the malefactor and I’ll want information.”
“If I refuse?”
“I tell Ensign Walker you have a covert Directorate mission and he throws you in the brig—to hell with mere protective custody.” His voice was light.
She snorted. “You have no justification for detaining me.”
“I don’t need any.”
She watched Parmet’s face, even though he didn’t allow any clues. In her gut, she felt he was bluffing. She concluded the same through cold calculation. Parmet knew Matt’s company worked for the Minoans. He wouldn’t dare endanger the advantage, and money, the Minoans offered to beleaguered researchers in G-145. So why was he trying to enlist her aid in the first place?
“If I run into anything, I’ll let your people know. Who would be my contact?” she said cautiously.
“Zheng, from my civilian security staff. None of the military personnel, AFCAW or TSF, have been told about these personal threats.”
Aha. Her fingers tapped the arm of her chair with satisfaction. Parmet was so worried about the Terran political environment that he only trusted his own longtime employees, transplanted from Mars. His civilian security, and her. Why did he trust her, when she was his traditional enemy and he’d personally wronged her? Her fingers stopped moving and she again looked straight into his eyes. If he was offering her an olive branch, there wasn’t any suggestion in his expression.
“Fine. I’ll talk to Zheng if I discover anything.” She rose to leave.
He spoke as she reached to open the door. “You understand, Major Kedros, that you shouldn’t confuse trust with forgiveness.”
She left without acknowledging his words.
“Lieutenant Oleander? Still with me?”
Pathfinder Page 11