Pathfinder

by Laura E. Reeve

“What’s your probable cause?” The lieutenant was composed and levelheaded; Joyce gave her credit for that. She ignored the moist, warm nose that snuffled at the side of her hip. Could there really be a pocket there? The Terran uniforms looked skin-tight and smooth—Joyce had to wrench his gaze away.

  “We contaminated a stolen disc with a scent.”

  “Oh. Then you must be looking for this.” Lieutenant Tyler ran her finger along the seam on her hip and a pocket opened. She slid her hand in and removed the disc that excited Xena so much. It was smaller than a commemorative coin, thin and flexible as display plastic; she held it between her long fingers and gave it to Benjamin with a graceful flourish. “Of course, I have no idea what’s on it,” she added. “I was only picking it up.”

  Of course. Joyce asked, “By whose orders?”

  “We were following an anonymous tip.” She gave Joyce an arctic glance, daring him to object. At this point, he couldn’t.

  The three of them became silent, each with an impassive expression, perhaps evaluating their options. Finally, Benjamin cleared his throat and held out his slate toward Lieutenant Tyler. “Your diplomatic status doesn’t prevent me from marking you as a witness and person of interest. For the time being, you’re not allowed to leave the Pilgrimage until I’m satisfied with your story. Please indicate your understanding with a thumbprint.”

  After they finished and the lieutenant walked away, Benjamin said softly, “I’ll let you observe our interviews, but there’s nothing we can do about her or whoever holds her leash.”

  “I didn’t expect to—it’s Myron I had to stop first. Wait a minute, please.” Joyce took a call from Captain Floros.

  “I’ve detained Myron just outside the ship.” Her voice was small and clear in his ear bug. “The ICT will be letting out in an hour.”

  “Right.” He looked at Benjamin. “I’d appreciate having you and Xena available when we face Senator Stephanos.”

  Luckily, Benjamin agreed. Joyce managed to get to the Bright Crescent’s slip on his own initiative; either he was getting stronger or he was learning to use his walker. At the bottom of the ship’s ramp stood Floros, Myron, and two members of AFCAW security force.

  “Captain, you’ve overstepped your authority so far that no one will have heard of the post you’re going to—” Myron was running off at the mouth, but his jaw dropped as he saw the dog.

  Xena, of course, went off on Myron’s pockets and hands, which he quickly held up at chest height. “What’s going on?”

  “I think you lost this.” Benjamin held up the disc, almost under Myron’s nose. Xena had to be pulled away from the ramp.

  “Where’d you get that?” Myron stood his ground.

  Joyce put his hand on Myron’s shoulder—to be honest, he had to lean on the slight man. “Son, I don’t think you’re going to need designer wear anymore, not where you’re going.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong.” Myron didn’t manage to look as confident as he sounded. “Plenty of Autonomist senators exchange data with Terran Overlord staffs.”

  “They don’t release classified AFCAW ship specifications.” Hissing his words softly, Joyce leaned closer, his hand tightening on Myron’s shoulder. Myron paled. “Here’s a piece of free advice: Never believe a Terran Space Force officer, particularly if she wants to sleep with you.”

  Myron’s mouth closed with a snap and his nostrils flared. Joyce shook his head; done in by the oldest trick in the book, pardon the pun.

  Captain Floros motioned to the SF, having them arrest Myron. He’d be under AFCAW control, not Pilgrimage, and would be detained on the ship. Joyce watched the young man’s jaw clench as his wrists were put in a manacle and he was marched through the airlock.

  “The Colonel wants to be briefed, of course.” Floros looked at the time, then nodded toward the departing Myron. “You expect we’ll get anything useful from him?”

  “Yes, if he helps us identify every system, and every function, that may have been compromised on the Bright Crescent . As for the important questions—why target Myron, why compromise this ship, what did SP Duval want, specifically, if he’s the one who ordered this . . .” Joyce shook his head, thinking how TSF Lieutenant Tyler would respond to—or coolly misdirect—Benjamin’s friendly interrogation methods. “Only that Terran intelligence officer can answer those, and I don’t think she’ll talk.”

  Ariane felt as though the ICT had lost its way. Everyone seemed on edge and the Tribunal members exhibited rancor toward one another. Senator Stephanos looked exhausted, Commander Meredith seemed like all he wanted was to get the others off his ship, and SP Duval had captured the market on spite and hostility. Duval’s eyes seemed to burn whenever he looked at her.

  The prosecution’s case was in a shambles, due to the loss of Tahir’s testimony. For two hours, Ariane was asked to describe what the isolationists had done with the TD weapon, how they released and detonated it, and how she’d sent a ship after the detonating weapon to take it into N-space. After a break, the Terran defense counsel cross-examined her.

  “Ms. Kedros, please tell us again how you verified the accused had a temporal-distortion weapon at their disposal.”

  “Tahir Rouxe showed me an image of the warhead in its container. TD weapons have a distinctive geometric shape, usually employing a great stellated dodecahedron, for bringing together exotic matter. The case was the type necessary for shielding exotic matter and it had the Terran designation of—” she closed her eyes “—TDP-dash-two-one-oh-two-dash-oh-one-two-slash—”

  “That’s fine, Ms. Kedros.” The defense attorney overrode her. “Were you aware of Dr. Rouxe’s previous occupation?”

  “He said the weapon was a ‘gift’ to his father, so I assumed he worked in a weapons depot or maintenance facility.”

  “Since you made that assumption, Ms. Kedros, didn’t you consider he might have taken that picture at a Terran depot before coming to G- 145? Why did you assume a picture was enough evidence that Dr. Rouxe had a weapon in his possession?”

  “I didn’t—not until I was thrown into a cell with State Prince Parmet—”

  “Stop, please.” The defense attorney turned to the bench. “Motion to strike this—considering that SP Parmet’s testimony regarding his knowledge of the weapon was thrown out.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. Thrown out?

  One of the prosecuting attorneys popped up and said, “Objection to motion. Ms. Kedros didn’t have reality-distorting drugs in her system. She can accurately describe what SP Parmet told her.”

  “She would be repeating a drug-induced hallucination,” responded the prosecution.

  “Agreed, but only with respect to Ms. Kedros’s conversations with SP Parmet,” Duval said primly.

  Ariane couldn’t believe this was happening. She watched Senator Stephanos roll his eyes and say, “I disagree, so you can’t abstain, Meredith.”

  Commander Meredith sighed and said, “For the sake of consistency, I will agree with SP Duval.”

  She realized now how her actions would sound on the court record. The conclusion would be that she was a loose cannon, making improbable presumptions, and inclined to take justice into her own hands. As a result, when asked to relate what happened on the Candor Chasma, she tried to orient on the interface that the isolationists had rigged to the weapon. They discredited her again, using her insistence that Tahir had a Terran weapon and she was an Autonomist.

  “I agree your records show appropriate experience, Ms. Kedros.” Luckily, her false military records listed maintenance time with a TD weapon system. “But, have you ever actually seen a Terran interface to a Terran weapon?”

  “No—”

  “Then I would say you can’t be credible witness to what the ship carried.”

  “Objection!” The prosecution popped up again. “Defense is making conclusions. This should be saved for closing argument.”

  Well, that really helped! All three Tribunal members sustained this objection, but she
felt frustration growing in the pit of her stomach. They were avoiding the point: a lot of people had died because of Abram and his weapon.

  “I can’t be a witness to each of the one hundred and ten deaths from radiation, but they still happened!” The words burst out of her and her voice cracked in anguish at points. The defense attorney tried to override her, but she just kept raising her voice. “The sun suddenly spouts mass emissions, flares, and radiation—and you want to ignore the cause? The cause was those men and their weapon. Are you going to pretend it didn’t happen? The measurements show the residual temporal-distortion wave going through the sun. Perhaps you don’t consider science to be credible in this court.”

  She was yelling by the end of her tirade, and so were the defense counsel, the defendants, and SP Duval. Commander Meredith wouldn’t look at her. He kept his gaze down, with an expression of misery. Senator Stephanos was shaking his head; not a good idea to lose your temper, his face said. After Duval said something about “contempt of court,” she quieted.

  “My questions, Ms. Kedros, are exposing Abram’s secretive methods and how he tightly controlled information about the weapon.” The prosecuting attorney’s tone was acidic. “Even you didn’t physically see the weapon. While you can testify to the actions of Dr. Tahir Rouxe and his father, can you produce any proof that my clients knew about that weapon?”

  She looked at each defendant’s face. Most tried to appear detached, but Rand smirked back at her. “No,” she said grudgingly.

  The attorney allowed a climactic pause, then continued. “Let’s talk about what you did with the alleged weapon, Ms. Kedros. Are you familiar with the TD Testing Treaty, signed in 2092, where signatories agreed to stop all testing? Specifically, pushing TD detonations into N-space was prohibited, was it not?”

  Oh, for Gaia’s sake. Her jaw set, due to the unfairness of the situation. The Minoans had pushed that treaty because the Terrans had been the biggest transgressors, but that fact would be in testimony the Tribunal threw out: the conversation she had with SP Parmet after he was tortured. Tensely, she answered, “At the time I pushed the ship and detonation into N-space, I was trying to prevent the sun from going nova. Adhering to the Testing Treaty wasn’t foremost in my mind.”

  “Were you aware the Minoans initially intended to charge you with treaty violations?”

  Confused, she hesitated. These questions weren’t going where she expected. Remembering the name “Breaker of Treaties,” she tried to recall who had told her about the possible charges. She shrugged. “I think somebody told me about the possibility, but I don’t remember who or when.”

  “Can you explain why the Minoans suddenly withdrew their charges, directly after your company accepted a lucrative contract from them?”

  At the time, she’d thought the charges might be coercion, ensuring she’d work the contract. She decided to go with an incomplete, but truthful, answer. “I assume the Minoans researched the matter and decided the charges were invalid.”

  “You didn’t provide the Minoans with information that made the treaty irrelevant?”

  “No.”

  “The Minoans didn’t uncover evidence that suggests the weapon didn’t detonate?”

  “No. I told you, there’s scientific proof the temporal-distortion wave leaked back into real-space.” The absurdity of this made her want to laugh hysterically; she, of all people, was having to prove how dangerous TD weapons could be.

  The defense attorney turned to the bench, perhaps feeling he’d pushed this obscure and irrelevant point as far as he could. Addressing the Tribunal members, he said, “The Defense wishes to enter the timeline for this Aether Exploration contract into evidence, as exhibit one-two-seven. We’ll address this again, under credibility of the witness.”

  Ariane kept her mouth from opening in dismay. Duval nodded sharply to the court recorder. Meredith agreed also, although he seemed sulky and resigned. Stephanos looked asleep and when he didn’t object, the court recorder added the data to the ICT records.

  Could this cross-examination get any worse? Yes, it could.

  “Ms. Kedros, would you say you’re a heavy drinker?”

  “What?”

  “Do you ever drink to excess?” The attorney rephrased the question patiently.

  “I’ve been known to tie one on, every once in a while.” She tried to smile naturally.

  “But is it true that your employer had to—”

  “Excuse me. Hold, please.” The court recorder held up his hand, while looking at his slate. He was the only one in the amphitheater allowed to have one, or to receive calls. “Two members of the tribunal, Senator Stephanos and State Prince Duval, have emergency calls from their staffs. I suggest we adjourn this session, since we’re only thirty minutes away from the scheduled end.”

  The defense attorney looked sour, but acquiesced. A set of doors across from the witness stand opened, and against a bright light she saw a TSF uniformed woman run down the aisle to go to Duval. Behind her hurried someone in a black Directorate uniform, perhaps Sublieutenant Matthaios. The lighting contrast caused problems for her v-play helmet and the amphitheater was fading. She hadn’t toggled the switch, so Ensign Walker was pulling her out of the virtual session.

  “I didn’t think you’d mind.” Ensign Walker looked worn, as if someone had mopped the floor with him. Of course, he’d been watching this ridiculous charade day after day.

  “How can you stand this?” she asked, running her hands through her hair and rubbing her head.

  “Today, the political pack ravaged you. A few days ago, they ravaged State Prince Parmet. Even he couldn’t opt out of this unpleasantness.”

  “So Parmet’s out of the loop?” When Walker looked at her warily, she added, “If I were an average net- rat, I’d wonder if the ICT was being pushed around by the Terran League.”

  She could see Walker weighing his two possible responses: close ranks and patriotically stonewall, or open up to an Autonomist intelligence officer, at the expense of SP Duval. Surprisingly, he decided on the latter, saying, “Whatever’s afoot, particularly with SP Duval, is a mystery to me. There’ve been no changes in policy at the League level, so my orders remain. I’m here to support SP Parmet and this multi-stellar research station.”

  “If the Overlords were fracturing, would you be told?” she asked.

  Ensign Walker shrugged, avoiding an answer. Instead, he picked up his slate. “While you were giving testimony, I got permission for you to see our background investigations, such as they are, of everyone selected to go on the Pytheas. Ms. Guillotte was chosen for the sensors and weapons position, given her experience. At the SP’s request, she has also looked over the backgrounds.”

  Meaning, even Parmet was nervous about the people recently arriving at this station. Ariane picked up her slate as Walker thumbed his. She saw his package arrive on her queue. “Did Ms. Guillotte have any concerns?” she asked blandly.

  “She didn’t find anything definitive, but she wants to speak with you privately.”

  Of course she does. Ariane nodded.

  “I still recommend you delay the expedition. Everyone would support you, including the crew. We all know this is going too fast.”

  Except the Minoans. Drained of energy and emotion, she said good-bye to Ensign Walker. She was juggling too many missions, hiding too many secrets, and knew too much about all the wrong people. She had just been maligned in front of the ICT as a greedy drunk turned vigilante. Now she was going to let the Minoans implant their technology in her, just so she could pilot a crew infiltrated by unknown treacherous persons to a solar system that contained a civilization-destroying time bomb. Paying her debt to society was getting more difficult every day.

  As she exited Walker’s security offices, she wondered whether she’d ever been in control of her life. Outside Security, where the corridor met the ring, a small crowd had formed.

  “Ari!” Matt turned and, before she knew it, enveloped her in a tight hug. �
�We did it! We got a lock signal that we can use. There’s a viable N-space path.”

  Regrettably, the hug had to loosen, but he kept his arm around her shoulders as he twisted her around to look at the cluster of people. “Here’s our pilot!”

  There were cheers and suggestions of celebration as Matt said in her ear, “Meet the new exploration crew of the Pytheas.” As his arm pulled her against his side, she felt she was coming home to where she belonged—an impossibility , for her, for more than sixteen years. Maybe this trouble was worth it, after all.

  CHAPTER 20

  Shocking, just shocking. We all know, by now, the iso- lationists stole a TD weapon and intended to use it in G-145. They wanted to drop out of the civilized galaxy or go out in a nova. They’d have been successful if not for the heroics of Major Kedros and Master Sergeant Joyce. This morning the ICT dropped all charges associated with the weapon, leaving only the wimpy indictment of violating the Phaistos Protocols. . . .

  —Dr. Net-head Stavros, 2106.064.09.58 UT, indexed by Heraclitus 12, Democritus 3 under Conflict, Cause and Effect Imperatives

  Aren’t you afraid? Owen had asked Ariane this morning. Yes, Owen, I’m frightened. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit that to you. She watched Dr. Lee pick up the Minoan implant with forceps. It hung in the cool air of the lab and writhed. She stiffened, her belly feeling like a rock, and time slowed.

  Earlier that morning, Edones had finally called, via encrypted comm. He looked better than when he’d taken back the Pilgrimage; the man seemed to thrive on politics. Or, perhaps she should consider the sympathetic corollary: When thousands of human lives hung in the balance, decisions weighed more heavily and sapped his life force. Regardless, he looked his politic and chipper self this morning, even though he was delivering bad news about the ICT.

  “They say there wasn’t enough evidence for Article Five charges of isolating and enslaving a population. But they did rule that Rand and his men are guilty of violations of Article Two, for breaches of the Phaistos Protocols.”