Vigilante

by Laura E. Reeve

  He squinted. There was nothing on the magnified view of the arrival channel, not even the distortion he’d thought he’d seen. It was ridiculous to imagine a stealth ship coming to their rescue. That kind of technology wasn’t possible for N-space-capable ships. He would have pounded his fists in frustration, if he only had the energy.

  “Nice to know you, Matthew Journey.” David Ray’s grin was crooked, his eyes shut, as he obviously planned his final words.

  “Likewise, David Ray Pilgrimage.” The lights in the module seemed too bright and his head felt as if it were going to split open from a headache, but he was too sleepy to care. His world was dark again. Damn it, eyelids, open up. He wondered where Ari was—Wake up, Matt—this was how Cipher had killed that guy on Karthage Point. Ari, I hope you’re alive and safe.

  The module didn’t so much shudder as jiggle. It felt as if it had suddenly settled in a bowl of gelatin. The comm light on the module control panel flared green.

  “I acknowledge the emergency call from module-two-zero-nine-eight-separated-from- Pilgrimage. I am preparing to connect in good faith, under Phaistos Humanitarian Directives.” The voice broadcasting inside the module was neither male nor female, and lacked a certain indescribable human vibrancy. Some would say it lacked soul.

  “Oh, Gaia. It’s Minoan.” With all his swearing and cursing, Matt always reserved the name of the Supreme Heart of All Holy Avatars for prayer, as in: Gaia, thank you so very, very much for saving us and I’m grateful, but did you have to send aliens? He looked at David Ray, whose eyes were bright and surprisingly alert.

  “At least they have good timing.” David Ray grinned.

  Matt looked at their air mixture display. The Minoans needed better than good timing; the oxygen level was in the red.

  It was Ariane’s duty to see to Colonel Dokos’s body, ensuring the proper military protocols were followed. She rolled Dokos onto her back and quickly removed all rank, ribbons, and medals from the uniform. She set these aside, then removed the name tag that said DOKOS and, after applying her thumbprint to the back, pushed up Dokos’s sleeve. She slid the edge of the name tag into the implant receptor on the dead woman’s forearm.

  Behind the divider came the sounds of Garnet talking in low tones to Varra, who was trying to recover from a bout of hysteria. Not that Ariane faulted her behavior, because most Autonomist citizens wouldn’t be able to cope with this, especially those too young to remember the war.

  Sabina and Dr. Lowry were soberly watching Ariane. When the edges of the name tag glowed with light, Lowry asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m downloading information from her implant into the tag, which has to get back to AFCAW. My thumbprint has been logged as the recorder of her death.”

  “Doesn’t that violate all sorts of Autonomist privacy law?” Dr. Lowry had apparently learned much from her work on Priamos.

  “Not in this case.” The name tag stopped glowing and Ariane disconnected it. “This can only happen if the implant records brain death. Besides, this process encrypted both her implant and this tag. Only certain AFCAW personnel can decrypt it.”

  Ariane pocketed the name tag and stood, looking down at Colonel Dokos. She knew how painful stunning felt, so she couldn’t hope that Dokos hadn’t suffered before death came. She stepped back and saluted, the last rite of respect for a soldier. A soldier who was executed without any chance of defending herself. Beside Ariane, Dr. Lowry and Sabina put their hands on their hearts and bowed their heads.

  After she brought her arm down, she glanced at the body bag, thrown inside the room so fast they never saw the person behind the door. Obviously, they were supposed to prepare the body.

  “I can’t get her in the bag myself. Can you help me?” She turned to Dr. Lowry, who blanched.

  “No, I can’t. I’ve never touched—” The young woman backed away, hands held up.

  “I’ll help,” Sabina said.

  Ariane held her gaze, looking for derision or disrespect in her eyes, but seeing none. Knowing she had to put aside her resentments for later, Ariane nodded curtly and let Sabina help her.

  After sealing the body bag, they had joined Garnet and Varra on the other side of the partition when the door opened again. It was Emery.

  “Sit against the wall,” he ordered, gesturing with his flechette weapon.

  If he’d showed up with only a stunner, Ariane was angry enough to have tried jumping him—and that meant she wasn’t thinking rationally. She tried to suppress her rage as she moved over to the bench. Cool down, she repeated internally.

  Emery then stepped forward, followed by two men, one of whom had accompanied him when he executed Colonel Dokos. They went behind the partition.

  “Have you finished your rites?” Emery asked.

  No one answered him and he didn’t seem eager to look anyone in the eyes. Instead, he told the men behind the partition to hurry up.

  “Emery. I’m on urgent business from Abram.” The quiet words came from a man standing in the door. Again, this was someone who might be Emery’s brother. Significant inbreeding must be going on somewhere, although the look exchanged between the two was anything but brotherly, by Ariane’s assessment. This time, there was a distinct difference because the man in the door wore Terran civilian clothes. He might even have the same tailor as Wescott.

  “What do you want, Tahir?” After a quick look over his shoulder, Emery brought his attention back to the women, much to Ariane’s disappointment. She noted Tahir carried only a stunner.

  The two men carried out the body bag. After Tahir stepped aside to let them out, he came into the room. He addressed the women directly. “Which one of you is the Destroyer of Worlds?”

  Uh-oh. As she heard the title the Minoans had given her and her other crew members during the publicized Pax Minoica negotiations, Ariane’s face went wooden. She did exactly as the other women: She looked puzzled and exchanged questioning glances with the others on the bench. She saw Sabina and Garnet doing the same, although they had to be better actresses. Being Terrans, how long would they protect her identity?

  “These are women, you idiot, or haven’t you noticed?” Emery’s words came through a clenched jaw. He appeared to be grinding his teeth.

  “Women fought on both sides of the war, and almost everyone watched the initial signing of Pax Minoica. Besides, we have the verified word of a Terran State Prince,” Tahir said.

  Ariane felt a small movement from Sabina, who sat at her right. Emery and Tahir, however, seemed locked in silent argument and didn’t notice.

  “Then he’s fooled you with his body language or—whatever. Give it up, none of them could be a warrior.”

  Tahir didn’t respond to Emery’s jeer. Instead, he pulled his stunner out and pointed at each woman in turn, as if considering her candidacy for the title. Varra was on the end and she was obviously too young. Then came Garnet, but she was Terran. So was Dr. Lowry. The stunner pointed at Ariane and hesitated, but from her outward appearance, she was also too young to have been in the war. That left Sabina, also a Terran, who wouldn’t have been attacking a Terran world during the war.

  “The guilty one should step forward.” With his calm voice, Tahir didn’t seem particularly suited for this job.

  Emery sneered. “If you’re so sure you’re looking for a woman, why don’t you have a name?”

  “Not enough time.” A flash of disgust flitted across Tahir’s face, and the women saw the telltale grimace.

  Meaning, not enough time before Parmet broke. Parmet’s mind might be mush right now, particularly if he’s gibbering about me.

  Sabina must have come to the same conclusions. She stood and calmly said, “Enough of this. I’m the person you want.”

  Ariane tried to keep her jaw from dropping open. She glanced at Garnet, who had a questioning look on her face. Beside Garnet, Varra looked puzzled, perhaps not having glommed on to the meaning of the title. She might be one of the few who had never watched the momentou
s treaty-signing ceremony, captured forever in crystal. Dr. Lowry, on the other hand, looked at Sabina with shock.

  “Ridiculous.” Emery looked even angrier, if that were possible. “We know you’re the wife of the State Prince and the mother of his only son.”

  “Perhaps you have a naive understanding of the complexities of Terran politics.” Sabina’s voice was cold. “A State Prince must heartily support Pax Minoica and what better way than to show forgiveness through a marriage contract? After all, our marriages are political implements first, breeding licenses second, and finally means of establishing affiliations and distributing wealth. The State Prince was waiting for the right moment to go public regarding my background.”

  She presented her words in a logical and believable tone that hid the nonsense. Tahir gaped at her answer. So did Ariane.

  “Take me to the State Prince, and you’ll see. He’ll corroborate,” Sabina added.

  “Sit down. Vengeance has not been exacted for Ura-Guinn, and that still festers in the heart of a State Prince.” Emery’s voice was flat; he’d been pushed too far.

  Sabina sat down regally, every motion strengthening the veracity of her story.

  Tahir frowned. “Parmet called for revenge and it was ru mored he illicitly financed Terran reprisal squads.”

  Ariane almost nodded, wondering why Sabina had come up with that half-assed story. Certainly not to protect Ariane; perhaps Sabina wanted to see Parmet, but she should have invented a more believable story.

  Tahir nodded at Emery. “You’ve seen him kill. Do any of you question that he would kill you at my command? Starting with her”—he pointed at Garnet—“and proceeding with you”—he pointed at Sabina—“until someone comes forward.”

  Emery visibly squirmed at the word “command,” but he nodded. He might not like Tahir, but he wouldn’t walk away from a chance to use his wand.

  This changes everything. Ariane couldn’t let anybody else be hurt, tortured, or killed for Ura-Guinn. She stood up slowly.

  “I’m the person you want.” Her voice surprised her, being clear and confident.

  Tahir’s stunner and Emery’s pistol both pointed at her, but the men didn’t look convinced.

  “I’m Major Kedros, of the Reserve Armed Forces of the Consortium of Autonomous Worlds. My service number is alpha-seven, one-two, six-four-seven-two, and yes, I’m older than I look.”

  Emery’s face darkened. “You’re military.” His hand tightened on his flechette pistol and Ariane’s stomach flinched.

  “No,” Tahir said quickly. “Abram wants to see this one.”

  Emery looked at Ariane’s face for a moment. He gestured for one of his men to hand over a flechette pistol, which he gave to Tahir. “I think you’d better use this. She may be trouble.”

  Tahir accepted the weapon, handling it gingerly but competently. He secured the stunner on his belt while Ariane cursed internally. Emery had made the right call: Using a stunner was tricky against a combat-trained professional, who could initiate hand-to-hand and spread the stun to both bodies. On the other hand, flechette weapons were spaceship-safe, flesh-eating weapons that didn’t need fine aim or range adjustment.

  After her flare of frustration, Ariane cooled her emotions, trying for objectivity. They’ll make a mistake eventually; I just have to be ready. Cipher once complained that all Ari had, entrenched in the core of her being, was a lump of logical ice—well, don’t fail me now, lump of ice! She took a deep breath and met their gazes calmly.

  Emery leered, although his expression seemed strained. “Go ahead and take her. Leaves the better-looking Terrans for us.”

  “You’re not allowed to touch any women, not after that pilot.” Distaste filled Tahir’s face, causing his nostrils to flare. “Everyone knows that’s by Abram’s command.”

  Abram seemed to be the magic command word. Emery’s face reddened.

  Tahir ordered Ariane to march out of the room ahead of him. He gave her directions for turning. Since she barely knew the way back to the great hall, she tried to keep her eyes open for the informational signs left by the archeological teams. She had an ungracious thought for contractors who didn’t want to hand out maps to visitors; then she realized Barone and his people were probably dead. Executed.

  Anger rose again, but with it came a wave of reproach. The breach of her false identity paled in significance to the loss of those people, who were hoping to advance humanity’s knowledge with their work. Focus, Ariane—you need to figure out who’s behind this, and what they want. This Abram, the leader, appeared to be the key. He’d told his men to execute any military, probably because they’d be most likely to thwart his plans, but why did he kill the Minoan contractors? Moreover, how did he get control of the buoy? The hours of rejection for bandwidth now made sense to her. Her stomach tightened. Was Matt okay? Had Joyce been captured?

  “There’ll be a price to pay when the Minoans get wind of this,” she shot over her shoulder.

  There was no reply from Tahir.

  “You can’t imagine they’ll allow one of their buoys to fall into criminal hands.”

  “We’ve already experienced Minoan retribution,” he said. “Take the tight right corner here.”

  She turned, as directed, and at the end of the short corridor, she faced a door much like the one to the original conference room for the contractor meeting. If her sense of direction was correct, she was on the opposite side of the great hall.

  “Turn around.”

  They faced each other in the short corridor. Tahir placed himself at the end so he could watch for anyone coming in the main corridor, looking as if he intended a private conversation with her.

  “Parmet said you’re the pilot who detonated a temporal-distortion weapon in Ura-Guinn and still escaped through N-space.” He grinned. “I figure you still have your N-space pilot qualification from the military. It’s too valuable a skill to throw aside.”

  She stayed silent, not admitting anything until she understood Tahir’s agenda. From his accent, he was Terran, perhaps highly educated. He had a familial resemblance to Emery, but they seemed to be at odds with each other.

  Tahir reached inside his jacket, took out a slate, and thumbed it while carefully keeping the pistol trained upon her. Then he dropped the slate, which skipped on the polished stone floor and then rested against his boot. Keeping his distance, he pushed the slate in her direction. It made a light whining sound on the clean floor.

  “Pick it up.”

  She did, cautiously. The slate was an example of rugged Autonomist manufacturing and it had the weight of an informational slate with additional sensors. She kept it dangling at the end of her arm, preferring to keep her eyes on his face. She let her thumb slide into thumbprint position and glanced down, but disappointingly, Tahir had locked the slate and none of the functions lit up for her.

  “Look at the picture.” His eyes were bright with anticipation.

  The slate had a display area about the size of her palm, but the high quality and detail made her think the picture was a close-up, not a magnification. She saw the pointed green vessel with wires sprouting from every sharp vertex and her face went numb. Looking closely, she verified it was indeed shaped as a great stellated dodecahedron, having twelve pentagrammic faces that each rose into multiple, pointed triangular pyramids. This was the cheapest stable geometry for containing and accelerating microscopic amounts of exotic matter to generate a temporal-distortion wave. The wired vessel sat inside a case with one labeled edge showing near the bottom of the photograph. She could make out the red letters TDP-2102-012/WM15 at the top of the label.

  “Where did you get this picture?”

  “That, Major Kedros, is my gift to my father. It rests within the hold of the Father’s Wrath, waiting for its appropriate means of delivery. That is why there won’t be any ships to rescue you—or me.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Galactic Sovereignty is a subject many applicants fail on entrance exams. Each genera
tional ship line is neutral and self-governing; otherwise the Minoans wouldn’t deal with them. Their offices and headquarters, when located planet-side, enjoy extraterritorial status. The solar systems they open, via a buoy, remain their territory until they relinquish sovereignty.

  —Get Accepted to Law School! Paris Stephanos, 2102.260.09.42 UT, indexed by Heraclitus 12 under Flux Imperative

  Oleander knew what G-145 was; that solar system was one of the hottest topics on net-think and she’d followed reports released by archeological teams. But why would Dr. Rouxe haul the stolen TD weapon there? As far as she knew, there weren’t any habitable worlds in G-145. Then she realized the emphasis that Captain Floros used: Both the Consortium and the League had received Declarations of Emergency.

  “I need an encrypted channel,” Colonel Edones said.

  After Hauser’s aide authorized the channel, Edones immediately moved to a corner of the conference room to make his call. Using his implanted mike, his discussion went subvocal, but she could see the urgency in the set of his shoulders and the way he paced a small circle into the carpet.

  Terrans came and went on hushed errands for SP Hauser. Presently, Edones and Hauser had received their orders and they faced off in the center of the room, right across the table from Oleander and Floros.

  “What’s going on?” she asked Floros.

  “Just sit back and watch the show.” Floros grimly nodded toward Hauser and Edones.

  Silence fell over the room. The men eyed each other. Hauser was taller but suddenly, for all his somaural projection, he didn’t quite match Colonel Edones in presence.

  “You go first,” Hauser said. “After all, we had to reveal the safety issues with the warhead.”

  Oleander frowned. The Terrans were becoming more childish by the minute.

  “Fine.” Edones’s expression would have frozen anyone with less confidence than Hauser. “Our message states that Pilgrimage HQ thinks the buoy is no longer under control of the Pilgrimage III. They assume something has happened to the crew, but they’re not privy to the fact there’s a madman with a TD warhead loose in their system.”