Pathfinder (14 page)

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Matt leaned back and crossed his arms, mimicking her. “Let me fill in the holes. Leukos commanded a Naga vessel, you were the pilot, and that left Cipher as what? The communications officer, obviously.”

He knew much more than she realized. Her hands, covered by her arms, tightened into fists and she pressed them painfully into her ribs.
Don’t go any further, please
. They stared at each other, the only sounds on the control deck the faint hum of equipment and the tension of their breaths.

“I
know
, Ari, although I’d prefer not to go back to 2090, or talk about why so many Terrans want to torture you.” His tone was kind.

A roar rose in her ears and her eyes watered again. She turned away. Maybe Matt didn’t judge her, maybe he didn’t think she was a monster—but she fought the urge to shift her burden to anyone else. It took a moment for her ears to clear; she realized he was still speaking.

“I’m sure you wish you had the chance to turn back time, to do things differently,” he was saying.

“No.” She whirled.

“What?”

“I wouldn’t do anything differently.” Her voice was harsh. “I’ve gone over it, thousands—millions—more times than seems possible. Given the exact same circumstances,
I’d still follow orders
.”

Matt’s eyes widened. He said nothing, but she watched the crèche-get sensibilities rise in his face: the aversion to violence, the indulgence that everyone had to have empathy and good conscience. The same impractical sensibilities that left the crèche-get defenseless, allowing Abram to slaughter his way into and through G- 145. The same sensitivities that might lead Matt to believe
she
didn’t have a conscience, even though she did.

Her voice broke as she quickly added, “I still—I ask
why
. There were several Naga teams placed at viable targets for the—that mission, so
why
did it have to be us?
Why
did it take such a horrific action to bring the League to the peace table? But I followed my orders, and I take responsibility for my actions, which doesn’t change the guilt I suffer. Or the nightmares.”

His face twisted with pity—Gaia, how she hated pity—and regret, which was far better than the revulsion she expected. He gestured toward the final still picture of the message with his thumb. “And the reclusive Bartholomew Leukos? Will he crack, like Cipher?”

She took a deep breath, feeling as if she’d just risen from the depths of a crushing ocean. Reluctantly, she considered Matt’s question. “Leukos survives, I think, by shifting the blame to those who gave the release orders and picked the target. He likes to think that we, the crew, were left in the dark and perhaps things could have gone differently . . .”

Her voice trailed away. Matt stayed quiet, perhaps sensing that her mind was turning, forcing her to look at memories she’d hidden in the dark recesses. “The decision about the target wasn’t under our control—the crew must do as they’re ordered. What in Gaia’s name did he think our mission was? Naga was
designed
to carry TD weapons.” Her eyes widened and she met Matt’s sympathetic gaze, without flinching this time.

“It’s a defense mechanism.” Matt cocked his head. “It helps him get through the days and lets him look the Terrans in the face. What about you? You’ll have to manage a working relationship with SP Parmet.”

“I’ll be fine.” Parmet had already passed up two perfect opportunities to kill her. His wife Sabina was another matter. Sabina had gotten the drop on her and kicked her almost senseless in a deserted passageway, but she wasn’t going to reveal that embarrassment to her employer. “I can handle my job, if that’s what worries you.”

Frustration came back into Matt’s eyes and his lips closed firmly. “Sometimes, Ari . . .” He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s
you
I’m worried about. While I admire your determination to be responsible—which seems more honorable than Leukos’s coping method—you’ve left yourself no way out, no path toward redemption. If you can’t forgive yourself, you’re going to self-destruct. And when that happens, how many bystanders like Nestor will be taken out?”

Of course, he meant how many
innocent
bystanders. She considered her conversation with Edones and Stephanos. Matt deserved to know the threat.

“Ari?”

“I’m still a target.”

“No kidding.”

She ignored his drawling sarcasm. “I’ll get updates regarding the investigations on the
Pilgrimage
. I can keep you apprised, as long as you don’t tell Owen I’m leaking you information.”

“As if I’d tell that bastard anything.” Matt gestured toward the Leukos Industries message. “What about your old commander? Why is he trying to wiggle his way back into your life
now
?”

Her hopes whispered that Brandon wanted to be near her, perhaps he still loved the original Ari—but
no
, her logical brain argued. Brandon had made it clear that he didn’t approve of Ariane Kedros,
of who I am today
.

“You know Cipher’s body was never found.” Matt’s eyes were focused on her, waiting for her to nod. “Do you know Leukos blocked the military investigators?”

“No.”

“He also railroaded the civilian authorities into closing the case. No one’s looking for Cipher.”

She watched Matt and felt a sinking feeling in her stomach; neither of them trusted Brandon, aka rich Mr. Leukos. Inside her gut, lack of trust felt just like betrayal. “Do we need his money?”

“Not after we got an infusion from the Minoans. They pay promptly; none of that forty- five-day-accounts-payable-cycle rubbish I get from everybody else.”

“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 installation.”

What a smart-ass. Her polite smile hardened. “That’s thoughtful of you, Ensign, but—”