Going Grey

by Karen Traviss

  "Dad doesn't forget, either. He's not a spiteful man. Just robustly protective. And so am I."

  "And Dru?" Kinnery changed tack, looking as if he'd taken that to heart. He must have heard about the shooting by now. "How's she doing?"

  "She's settled in a new job."

  "You keep an eye on her, then."

  "Of course. It's one of our companies. Rob calls her every week to make sure she's okay." Mike checked his watch. Ian was now twenty minutes late and he hadn't called. Mike had to assume he wasn't coming. He was scrupulously punctual. "I'm sorry, I think Ian's been held up. I'm sure he'll make it another time."

  Kinnery looked around the coffee shop. He seemed genuinely forlorn. "I don't know why I expected him to want to talk to me after what I've done."

  "I don't think he's snubbing you," Mike said. "He's just getting his head straight about Maggie and her father."

  "So does he want to know his real history?"

  "Depends what you call real. That would be his grandmother's family."

  Kinnery fished in his pants pocket and handed Mike a metallic green USB drive. "You better have this. I don't think it's beyond you to find out more from the information in here. In theory, if you trace the clinic, it should have records to narrow it down. God knows how you'd get them released or explain it to a court, but you seem to have some fascinatingly irregular resources at your disposal."

  Mike turned the drive over in his palm. "What is this, exactly?"

  "All that's left of my notes from a certain project."

  "I hope it's secure."

  "Don't worry, the entire drive's encrypted. The password's on that list of procedures, along with a link for downloading the software, so I'd transfer that information and destroy the original right away if I were you."

  There was no reason not to take it. It wouldn't eat or drink anything, as Rob was fond of saying, so Ian could decide for himself one day. The contents were probably classified. But so was some of the material in Maggie Dunlop's folder. Mike wouldn't feel extra-guilty for having a few more pages.

  "Ian did have something to ask, actually."

  "Sure."

  "He wants clarification. He needs to know if his embryo was created specifically for experiment. That's never been clear to him."

  "Will it make that much difference?"

  "He was very precise about it."

  "Well, no, he was a spare," Kinnery said, an oddly mechanical term to Mike. Then Kinnery frowned at him as if a thought he didn't like very much had crossed his mind. "What, you think I had this batch of donor eggs, went to the fridge for a pint of jizz, and thought, what the hell, why not give it the personal touch?"

  "I could recite a long list of eminent scientists who were into self-experimentation," Mike said. "But I won't deny I used to wonder if the bond was more than guilt."

  "Well, he's not mine." Kinnery was still looking around the coffee shop every so often. "Don't worry, we worked with a reputable IVF clinic. You sometimes end up with embryos you can't implant immediately for various reasons, so they're frozen, and eventually the parents have to decide what to do with the ones that aren't implanted – give them up to another couple, dispose of them, or donate them for research."

  Mike couldn't remember if Dad had ever told Kinnery about his infertility situation or not. But he had to say something. "I know. Livvie and I went through a lot of IVF cycles before we gave up."

  "Christ, I'm sorry." Kinnery shut his eyes for a moment as if he didn't dare say another word for fear of picking the wrong one. "Shall I just shut up? Look, if Ian's worried about inherited problems, he's not the offspring of diseased inbred deadbeats who sold their genetic material for crack. Whoever donated him wasn't short of a few bucks. Even his surrogate was off her habit and well looked after for the duration of the pregnancy."

  "That all he wants to know, I think." It was hard to keep the conversation going much longer. Mike was already taking a risk meeting Kinnery anyway, but there was nothing more they could discuss. "I'd better go. I'll try to get him down here next month. Take care of yourself, Charles."

  "And you, Mike. Give my best to your family. It'd be nice to see Ian again."

  Mike read Kinnery's list in the taxi on his way to the restaurant. Well, he already had the encryption software, so Ian could look through the data whenever he liked. Then a random thought distracted him. Family: Kinnery might well have felt that Ian had been taken from him, that Mike had walked in and snatched the kitten from the basket like that unhappy would-be mother cat. Mike had been sure that he'd think it served the bastard right for a sustained deceit at the expense of another human being. But he didn't, not then anyway. It was rather sad.

  But I found Ian. I rescued him. He's mine, and I'm keeping him.

  Mike accepted that he liked it when strangers took Ian for his son. Mothering was a word that implied devoted care, but fathering had come to mean insemination and little else to follow, when it should have meant teaching, looking out for, taking pride in, providing for. It mattered.

  I don't have to be ashamed of that. I ought to like myself more for feeling that way. I did right. This time, I really know that I did right in the world.

  He wondered how Ian would feel when they adopted a baby. Dad had always joked that Charlotte had been furious when Mom had told her she was going to have a little brother or sister. She still was, it seemed.

  Could I ever tell a child that their brother's a shape-shifter? Another secret. Well, all families have them.

  The restaurant was the one where Kinnery had first told Dad that Ian was more than a crazy rumour. Mike wasn't sure if Ian knew. It didn't seem the right moment to tell him and risk spoiling the day.

  "Ian, I did ask Charles," Mike said. It was all code again. It wasn't a bad habit to maintain. "He says you were a spare."

  Ian nodded, chewing a section of breadstick. He broke them into equal lengths first, just like Dad did.

  "Good. So he saved me."

  "Sorry?"

  "I would have been flushed away otherwise. Or whatever they do. He gave me a lifeline."

  Livvie didn't flinch. Mike did, somewhere inside. Lifelines were Nick hauling Mike from the raging water and Rob stemming the life bleeding out of him, not some lottery of which experiment would make it far enough to risk taking it further.

  Am I jealous? Am I expecting Ian to be perpetually grateful that I took him in and protected him? Am I hurt that he equates Kinnery's goddamn whim with that?

  Mike shook himself out of it. Ian just had a talent for embracing whatever crap life threw at him and turning it into laurels.

  "That's very gracious, Ian," Livvie said.

  "No, it's just easier than feeling hard done by." Ian was always frank about his emotions. Mike once thought he was being philosophical, but he'd come to understand that Ian was literal. "Blame's hard work. I'd hate to feel that I needed to get my own back unless I really had to. If there's an up side, then I don't."

  Livvie studied the dessert menu as if it was an exam paper she'd just turned over. Mike couldn't tell whether she was trying not to smile or if her eyes were brimming.

  "Pistachio," she said. "They've got pistachio ice cream today. And no Rob to eat it."

  After lunch, they went back to Dad's apartment to freshen up and change for the afternoon ahead. It was Dad's base when he was in town, a home from home that was large enough for family gatherings as well. Ian was fretting over his shirt in the mirror when Mike decided to bring up the subject of the data Kinnery had given him. He held up the USB drive.

  "From Kinnery," he said. "It's the last of his Project Ringer data. He wanted you to have it. In case you ever needed the research." He took a breath. "Or if you wanted to use the information in it to track down your biological parents. You don't have to look at it yet."

  Ian examined the drive for a few moments as if he was trying to divine what was on it without plugging it in.

  "Password?" He expected security on everything. "Can
I use your laptop?"

  "Sure. I'll show you how to use the portable decryption so you don't leave traces."

  Mike hadn't expected him to be so keen to start. It hurt. He hoped it was more scientific interest in the project than a need to find two people who didn't even know he existed. Ian sat down at the desk in the living room, booted up the laptop, and looked at the password on the paper Mike handed him.

  "You really want to open it now?" Mike asked.

  "No, I want to erase it securely. If I do it now, I can forget it ever existed. Is that okay? I know it can take hours to do that. I could leave it running while we're out."

  Mike was caught out by Ian's reaction. "You don't have to do that. I know you worry about security, but there's no rush."

  "It's not about security, Mike. I just don't need to know who they were. I know who I am, I know who you are, and I'm going to find out what kind of guy my great-grandfather was. Nothing else is relevant."

  Mike could only nod. He hadn't expected to feel so choked up by the comment. Ian inserted the drive, tapped away at the keyboard, and decrypted the volume. Everything now hung on a few seconds and a couple of clicks.

  "Is this right?" Ian asked, frowning at the screen.

  "That's it. That security level there – that'll overwrite it a few times."

  "Got it."

  "Now it'll ask you if you're sure you want to erase."

  "I'm sure."

  Ian clicked. The progress bar at the bottom of the window showed several hours to run.

  "There you go," Ian said, getting up from the desk. "I feel better now. When it's done, I'll destroy the drive as well."

  "It'll be wiped clean anyway."

  "You know how you hang on to your lucky watch?" Ian said. "Well, I need that drive to not hang on to. I need to make a point of destroying it."

  Livvie walked up behind them and put her hand on Ian's shoulders. "I'm going to stay here. I'll monitor it for you. Go on. Get ready."

  Mike retreated to the bathroom to shave again, making a mental list of all the things he'd have to chew over with Rob when he got back. He wanted to get thoroughly drunk and emotional with him. He'd pick his brains on the art of coping with the curve balls that kids threw you, and remind him what a solid, unflinching, always-there friend – what a great brother – he was.

  Livvie looked Mike over while he dressed. "You look dashing. Very yacht club."

  "I don't want to let Ian down." Mike adjusted his collar. The visit to the memorial was a formal blazer and tie event as far he was concerned, no matter how hot it was today. "Some things have to be done right."

  "I know. I'll visit the memorial with him before we go home. Just so he knows I'm there for him as much as you are."

  Mike wasn't sure who was more nervous about the visit, him or Ian. When Dad's driver dropped them off at the memorial, it was a real effort for Mike to walk along the polished black granite wall and all those tight-packed, never-forgotten names without feeling that he was intruding. It was simply impossible to speak. He should have had something profound to say to Ian, but nothing would come out, and Ian didn't comment or ask questions. The silence itself was the conversation that passed between them. This time, it was Ian who put his hand on Mike's back as they walked.

  "There he is," Ian said. An elderly man in a Panama hat and check shirt was waiting with a sheaf of paper in his hand. "That's Mr Kovac. He was a door gunner. He sent me his picture so I'd recognise him. I didn't send him mine, though. Just in case."

  A photo didn't seem necessary, though.

  Mike saw the look on Kovac's face as he caught sight of Ian, a flash of the brows and the start of a smile as if he'd recognised an old friend, followed immediately by a slow, sad frown as common sense killed the reflex.

  Kovac stepped forward and reached for Ian's hand without any introduction. "Damn, for a second I thought you were him. Crazy, huh? You're so much like Davey it's scary." He shook Ian's hand, then grabbed Mike's. "You must be Ian's dad. It's good to meet you both."

  Explanation would have felt like disowning Ian. Mike tried the assumption on for size again, and liked the comfort and weight of it. He decided to keep it.

  "Let's find somewhere to have a coffee, sir," Mike said. "We don't know much about David. You know how complicated families can be."

  "Ah, you'd have loved the guy." Kovac smiled to himself. "Real quiet. Just melted into the background until there was a tough job to be done, then he'd be the first in. Insisted on it."

  Mike couldn't stop himself from patting Ian's shoulder as they walked. "I think that runs in the family," he said.

  ###

  The story continues in

  BLACK RUN – Book 2 in the Ringer series

  COMING SOON

  ALSO BY KAREN TRAVISS

  WESS’HAR WARS

  City of Pearl

  Crossing the Line

  The World Before

  Matriarch

  Ally

  Judge

  HALO

  Glasslands

  The Thursday War

  Mortal Dictata

  GEARS OF WAR

  Aspho Fields

  Jacinto’s Remnant

  Anvil Gate

  Coalition’s End

  The Slab

  STAR WARS: REPUBLIC COMMANDO

  Hard Contact

  Triple Zero

  True Colors

  Order 66

  Imperial Commando: 501st

  STAR WARS

  Bloodlines

  Sacrifice

  Revelation

  The Clone Wars

  No Prisoners

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  #1 New York Times best-selling novelist, scriptwriter and comics author Karen Traviss has received critical acclaim for her award-nominated Wess'har series, as well as regularly hitting the bestseller lists with her Halo, Gears of War, and Star Wars work. A former defence correspondent and TV and newspaper journalist, she lives in Wiltshire, England.

  For more information on Karen's books and other work, or to contact her, visit http://www.karentraviss.com