“Wouldn’t you consider this applying your own justice, Ms. Kedros?” The attorney’s voice rose.
“I had only a few seconds to make my decision.”
The Terran counselor faced her, now nearly shouting. “You testified that you saw Emery Douchet kill Colonel Dokos in front of you, in cold blood. Didn’t that affect your decision?”
The Feeds were eating it up. Their cam-eye platforms focused on the two of them and the correspondents watched alertly. They loved drama and there probably hadn’t been much on display in this court, until now.
“Of course it affected me,” she said coldly. “I admit, I had no problems leaving him to die in N-space.”
The audience erupted into applause and whistles. The court official called for order. There was no reaction from SP Duval or Commander Meredith, although Senator Stephanos’s frown dug deeper into his bearish features. Perhaps she should have been more tactful.
“No more questions for this witness, Your Honor, until the classified sessions.”
She saw the switch for ending the virtual session appear above her head, reached up, and toggled it. The sights and sounds of the amphitheater faded, the chair felt softer, and she was back on Beta Priamos with Ensign Walker.
“I admire your honesty, but I question your wisdom in showing it.” He took the lightweight v-play helmet from her.
“Even if I acted with prejudice, it doesn’t change what those men did. Besides, the important testimony is about the weapon. I’ll do better in the second session, now that I know what the defense intends.” She fluffed her loose curls with her fingers, removing the effects of the helmet. However, she was disturbed by the look between Duval and the Terran attorney, so obviously intended for her. It was a warning that her next testimony would be more difficult. Why was Duval even putting out the effort to protect these isolationists? After all, this tribe had been written off as worthless, long ago, by the Terran League itself.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have raised your net-think exposure, Major. It’ll reduce your usefulness to the Directorate.” Ensign Walker yanked her attention back.
Her stomach tensed as she shrugged nonchalantly. The Intelligence insignia on his TSF uniform was obviously more than garish adornment. Once he’d been assigned Beta Priamos security, he must have looked into the history behind unique situation in G- 156, where Terrans, Autonomists, and even Minoans worked together in one of the first interstellar research efforts under Pax Minoica. Walker would have dug around, perhaps accessed classified reports, and figured out that Parmet had coerced the leases from her—thereby identifying her as a person of interest and in Walker’s world, a possible enemy of the League.
She took the offensive. “It must have been tough securing this station, Ensign. Wouldn’t you have preferred another assignment, perhaps under SP Duval?”
“I’ll admit it’s been challenging. Particularly when dealing with your Autonomist bureaucracies.” He gave her his signature polite smile. “I’ve been learning a lot from SP Parmet.”
I’ll bet. She said casually, “You’ve got two State Princes here in this system, working for two different Overlords. Who gives the orders? What if they conflict?”
“I’m assigned to support SP Parmet.” Walker’s face became colder. He stretched his right shoulder and neck, a subtle indication of unease.
“But what if you can’t tell which SP is right? Which one is supporting valid League doctrine?”
“We have directives—just as you do, I’m sure—and I’m not at liberty to talk about them.” With a dark look that shut down this topic, Walker added, “By the way, one of our Autonomist prisoners has been asking for you. His name is—”
“Frank Maestrale,” she said.
“That’s the one.” Walker gestured at the door. “Now, if you please, I have to set up for the next witness.”
She stood and stretched. If she spent her on-station time visiting Frank and contacting Joyce, she could justify putting off a call to Maria.
In calling the brig, Ariane found that Frank wouldn’t be off his work detail until thirteen hundred. That gave her time for a leisurely lunch and a tour of the small but growing commercial area of Beta Priamos Station. The Stellar Shield, the community bar, was being squeezed by commercial ventures such as Jeffrey Kuang’s Kitchen and the Bosko Delicatessen. There was also an Aphrodite’s, from a chain of salons pervasive in the Hellas Prime solar system. Now she knew where Sabina had gotten her skin-do.
After eating at the deli, she looked into the Stellar Shield but didn’t enter. She felt a sharp urge to have a beer after lunch, but remembering Frank’s vow of abstinence, she fought it off. She didn’t want him to smell the beer and comment on her drinking.
“Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Kedros.” Always meticulously polite—he’d always called her Ms. Kedros, even when he was shit-faced—Frank smiled as he sat down on the opposite side of the grille.
“Sergeant Pike convinced me that I should visit.” She couldn’t respond to his smile, and couldn’t forgive his betrayal. This was a man who had worked as space crew, who supposedly had the code of the frontier embedded into him. Someone you drank with, someone you could trust.
Frank’s smile slipped off his thin face. Even though there was no gray in his hair, he looked worn. Not tired, but eroded, like soft stone cliffs trying to withstand the sand-storms of Mars. He looked like a man who had tried to reinvent himself for the last time, and had given up.
“I know you don’t care why I helped Abram,” he began.
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“Honestly, I didn’t know his attitude toward women. Not until he slugged you. I’m sorry.” Frank dipped his head and hunched his bony shoulders. “But there were other things I learned, that weren’t so bad. See, he didn’t have enough technical expertise down on Priamos, so that’s why he kept me close.”
“So you want to tell me something about Abram?”
“He really wanted to connect to his son, Dr. Rouxe. That’s why he allowed you along, using that ‘arc of retribution’ line.”
“It was a suicide mission, Frank. What kind of father sends his son on a mission of certain death?”
“One who fervently believes in the mission. Hey, I’m only saying that I understand bits of Abram. I didn’t understand the whole package. Not by a long shot.”
She suddenly felt tired. “So what’s your point?”
“Abram was fallible and he could be used.” Frank leaned forward.
Her interest flickered. “Who would have used Abram?” “I set up a secure channel for him, and was sworn to secrecy about it.” One thin shoulder raised in a shrug. “Threatened, actually, and told never to speak of it. He gave me a termination address for New Sousse.”
This wasn’t so interesting, after all. She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “He was talking to tribal elders on his home planet.”
Frank looked about the brig visitation area, ensuring it was empty, and lowered his voice anyway. “I disobeyed his orders and traced the termination. It was being forwarded to an unlisted address owned by Overlord Six—well, by the organization that’s Overlord Six.”
“You’re saying a Terran Overlord knew what Abram planned for G-145?”
“More than that, I think Six called the shots.”
She sat back and folded her arms. “You know how improbable that sounds.”
“We had a dry run, you know. In J- 132. I don’t know how many system openings they shadowed and staged their people, their weapons, but J-132 was my first. We made sure we were in position, and we were contacted. Not by Abram. I didn’t meet him until later. G-145 might have been an exercise, too, and then E- 130 after that. I think most of the recruits outside the enclave, like me, thought of it as an exciting game—we didn’t think anything could come of it. But we all knew it took a lot of money to run that operation.”
The chair she sat in didn’t feel substantial as Abram’s plan ran through her mind, horrific in
its interlocking details. Even now, it seemed impossible that they could have thwarted it. To stop that surreal feeling, she put her hands on the cool counter, pressing down to assure herself of the substantive world.
“I didn’t think G-145 was a viable candidate, because it didn’t have a habitable, temperate world. The Cause, we were told, was about finding a place where we could live without the interference of government.” Frank’s voice had fallen into monotone. “We could be free from the insanity of the Autonomist Consortium and the tyranny of the Terran League.”
“But that’s not what it was about.” Her mouth was dry.
“No. I was one of the few who saw the strings of the puppeteer, and I became suspicious too late.” For the first time, Frank’s eyes looked anguished. “We got calls from that same address, twice, and I had to find Abram. In both cases, I think he was given orders.”
“What kind of orders?”
“I don’t know. The second time, his instructions didn’t seem to sit well with him. He spoke for three minutes, with someone at the Overlord’s address. That’s why I couldn’t talk to the Terrans running this station. I don’t want this to get to the Tribunal, because Duval works for Overlord Six.”
“But if Abram’s plan worked, they’d have cut off this system. Why would any Terrans want to lose Builder technology?”
“That’s another oddity. I came upon two of Abram’s ‘nephews.’ One was talking about poor Mr. Barone, how he begged for his life.” Frank’s jaw became rigid. “How Barone said his people should be spared, that they could solve the Builders’ buoy—then the other one laughed and said, Too bad for them; we’ve seen this stuff before.”
“What?” She blinked away the blur that rose when she heard Barone’s name. “Are you sure?”
“That’s a direct quote. When the guy saw me, he turned pale, and the only thing that ever scared those guys was Abram. They bullied me into silence—after that, I paid more attention to their behavior on Priamos. I’m sure the ones from New Sousse had encountered Builder technology before.”
“Could you identify the guys who talked about it?”
“They’re dead. Died in the takeover, by Sergeant Joyce’s hands.”
“That’s convenient. You know how this sounds, Frank. As if you manufactured this for bargaining.” When he shook his head and looked down, she sighed. “It’s pretty thin, based only upon your opinion and this address. If you distrusted the Terrans, why didn’t you talk to the Autonomist shock commandos when they came on-station?”
“I convinced Sergeant Pike to check out the address I memorized.” Frank pointed at his head. “Unfortunately, it’s been reassigned. To a toy factory.”
“So you have no tangible evidence.”
“Not a bit.”
She stared at him, realizing how she’d avoided connecting the facts. Abram’s takeover was well planned and executed, but she’d dodged any analysis other than anguishing over the needless deaths it caused. Spending all that time mourning, even blaming herself for the effects of the TD wave, had been a mistake. She should have been asking questions, such as, where had Abram’s money come from?
“Did Overlord Six provide financing?” she asked Frank. “Is there a money trail?”
“I don’t know. Some of Abram’s men grumbled that the relief funds, sent to help those harmed by the Minoans, had all been funneled toward the Cause. I doubt Abram was able to finance everything with that charity, but I had no access to records—if there was anything of the sort.”
She remained quiet, rubbing her upper teeth with her tongue, and Frank took his cue from her. He relaxed, his fingers tapping the arms of his chair.
Her thoughts ran through the possible connections. If Abram had been taking orders from Overlord Six, then the Interstellar Tribunal was a farce, because SP Duval was on Six’s staff. But if the ICT had no teeth, why was Tahir killed? And why keep up the pretense of the Tribunal?
She took a deep breath as she widened the scope: If Overlord Six was behind the attempted takeover, then what about the other Overlords? There were plenty of Terrans in this system, predominantly from Overlord Three’s district. They included SP Parmet and much of his staff, but they also had plenty of prior TEBI personnel—and Tahir’s assassination smelled like a TEBI hit. Did that mean Overlord Three was behind Tahir’s death? Were Three and Six trying to undermine the ICT? If these Overlords didn’t support the ICT, then they might not honestly support the interstellar research in this system. Or Pax Minoica.
There was a whole spectrum of possibilities. On one end, Abram was an independent loose canon. At the other end, she envisioned a full-fledged Terran attempt to undermine Pax Minoica. Somewhere, along this sliding scale, sat reality.
“What are you thinking, Ms. Kedros?” Frank sounded hesitant.
“I’m wondering what you expect to get from telling me this.”
Frank flinched at her hard voice. She wondered why she’d lashed out; was she really the sort to kick a man when he was down?
“I just wanted to warn you that there’s still something rotten in G- 145. I know it, even if I can’t prove it.” He kept his gaze downward, not meeting hers.
She felt worse. He hadn’t asked for anything and he seemed concerned about her welfare, considering the murderous attempts on the Pilgrimage. Wait—did Frank even know about those? She asked him, “Do you get to watch the Feeds?”
“No, but we did hear of Dr. Rouxe’s death. That made those of us testifying for the prosecution pretty nervous.” At least he was testifying against his cohorts.
She nodded approvingly and stood up. “Thanks, Frank, although I’m not sure what to make of your story. Yet.” Just like Pike’s report of all that data heading toward Overlord Six’s territory.
“Ms. Kedros, wait—”
She did, watching him steadily. He appeared to consider his words, weighing them carefully and speaking slowly. “I’ve made some bad choices in my life. Joining Abram’s Cause was one of them, and I’ll have to pay for it. But there’s one thing I can recognize, in myself and others, and that’s self-destruction. Please, don’t let yourself be overcome.”
She wanted to walk away, but was caught by the grief on his face. “Is that why you stopped drinking?”
“I drank to stop myself from fading away.”
Her face felt numb, so it was easy to hide her surprise. Sometimes she felt she was unraveling, like poorly woven cloth, so loudly that it would wake the ghosts in the back of her mind. If she drank enough, she stopped the internal unraveling and the rustling of ghosts—for Frank, it stopped the fading.
He continued. “I started a self-help group here on the station, if you’re interested. Perhaps you can stop by, before you implode.”
She shrugged off the quiver of recognition. Drinkers all had their reasons; just because Frank had seized upon her self-destructive streak, didn’t mean he understood what was going on in her head. Besides, her rejuv didn’t just give her an improved metabolism, it made her an ultra-rapid metabolizer of drugs and alcohol. She could handle her drinking without the self-help, the therapy, or the therapist. Major Tafani, her AFCAW-assigned addiction counselor, flashed through her mind.
“No, thank you, Frank.” She tried for dignity, but it sounded more like outrage. “I doubt I’ll have the time.”
He nodded sadly. When she glanced back before going through the hatch, he was still watching her.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t speak with you until now. It’s been an exhausting day.” Oleander spoke into her implanted mike while looking around at the busy cafeteria on the Pilgrimage.
“I sympathize, I really do. And you need to talk—things are going so well here on Priamos, I’d feel guilty about blathering on.” Matt’s voice sounded clear in her ear bug. The nodes were working well in the cafeteria, but the bandwidth charges on the Pilgrimage were so high that she and Matt had opted for audio calls only.
“Besides Senator Stephanos and his aides, we have to answer questi
ons from two other senators.” She was dressed in civilian clothes. The time displayed on her cuff in aquamarine blue, and she pressed her shirt’s control to suppress the temperature readout. She had no need to monitor temperature on a ship the size of the Pilgrimage.
“They’re representing all three major parties?”
“Looks like it. Senator Stephanos is running himself ragged, being on the Tribunal during most of first shift and trying to cover this investigation in second shift.”
“Which parties are pushing this?”
“I don’t know. But couldn’t they have waited until we were in home port? It’s not unusual to audit an expensive mission, but right now? And some of the aides are more than surly, they’re sometimes disrespectful.” With her peripheral vision, she saw Myron enter. She was sitting sideways to the entrance of the cafeteria and she shifted so Myron couldn’t see her face. In uniform, she wore her long hair twisted into a coil at the base of her head. With her hair loose, he probably wouldn’t recognize her from the back.
“I just can’t tell you all the breakthroughs that have started, entirely due to the translator the Minoans gave us.” Contrary to his earlier comment, Matt couldn’t help gushing. “Of course, the Minoans don’t have a good grasp on our concepts, let alone the Builders’ mental processes. . . .”
Across the room, Myron again moved into her range of vision. He had a tray of food in his hands and he appeared to be searching for a place to sit. Displaying his characteristic pickiness, he turned down options of sitting with anyone and ended up at an empty table.
“And I can’t wait until the Pytheas arrives tomorrow from J-132. It’s supposed to be the tightest, best-equipped, third-wave exploration ship around.” Matt’s voice had joyfully babbled beyond her attention span.
“The Pytheas? Who’s going to pay for a third-wave exploration ship?” She’d missed something, since those ships were equipped for terrestrial examination of habitable planets, and no one had gone to the expense of sending one to G-145. Smaller second-wave prospectors, such as Aether’s Touch, were for remote exploration and establishing legal telepresence.
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