"Even for a drink?” said Sabina’s soft voice from the doorway.
His second wife held a hot beverage, modeled after Terran tea, in her hand. Her small and taut body stood symmetrical inside the doorway, and no farther. Her short red hair cupped her head and neatly lay behind her delicate ears, while the smooth gray bodysuit showed every indelicate and muscular ripple on her body. Sabina was adept at somaural reading and projection, but Isrid didn’t permit her in his study. He worried that her strong aura, perhaps a result of her willful personality, would taint his room.
He declined with an eyebrow. I’m busy.
"You’ve been here more than three hours. What are you studying?” Signing with almost imperceptible finger flicks and a shoulder shrug, she added, You need a break.
"I’m reading the treaty for dismantling CAW’s Naga, versus our VTD-twenty drones and Falcon missiles.” He stretched and relaxed his muscles. Of his two wives, Sabina was the one in whom he confided. This, however, was one reason he didn’t risk having her accompany him to political events.
"Why torture yourself? You wouldn’t have been allowed on the Terran team for negotiating this particular treaty, and for good reason.” Sabina didn’t know about his appointment yet.
"The overlord appointed me to organize and manage the treaty inspection teams.”
Sabina projected disbelief and puzzlement, but Isrid didn’t reply.
"It’s a trap,” she finally said.
"It’s a test.”
"Semantics.” Her fingers flicked the Martian sign that translated to "a spoken word never has one meaning.”
"The overlord and his staff need to know how far I’ll go to support Pax Minoica.”
Sabina nodded. She’d helped him craft a new public image, slowly softening his statements over the past five years. She understood the importance of publicly accepting Pax Minoica.
"You’ve convinced them that you’ve come to terms with losing Pryce and his family.” A graceful curl of three fingers added the meaning "deceived” to her spoken word "convinced.” A flip of the wrist added "brother” to "Pryce,” which Sabina knew would cause him pain.
"Either that, or they think I’ve decided to wait. The overlord supports this as the logical course, considering the latest analysis on the glitch data.” Isrid answered tonelessly and added no additional meanings to his words, because he was no longer sure how he felt.
"They place too much hope on the glitch data.” Sabina’s sneer made her feelings obvious; they were not ambivalent in regards to the Autonomists. Sabina felt she’d lost a child—since she and Isrid were going to have Pryce and his wife join their multimarriage so she could carry his child. The permit had been grueling to get and the chance was now lost. She had one son by Isrid, but she’d hoped for more.
"Even if their sun survived, the colony might not exist anymore,” Sabina continued. "The temporal distortion wave would have caused coronal mass emissions and flares. If they survived that, then how long could civilization endure, shut off from supplies and information?”
Isrid nodded agreement. They’d had this discussion many times and he was empty, drained from years of pain and wondering. Was anyone alive in Ura-Guinn? Could they trust the glitch data?
It was so much simpler during the war. Both sides had TD weapons, although the Autonomists had followed the Phaistos Protocols to the letter with their manned, somewhat manual, Naga release vehicles and the Terrans had stretched the protocols to the limit with their standoff drones and missiles. Not interested in learning the physics behind temporal distortion, Isrid took the analysts’ word for what it could do: A TD wave was capable of blowing up a sun.
They were terrible weapons; the Minoans were edgy about temporal distortion wave testing, and were always pestering for a moratorium. The analysts had all said that as long as neither side was losing the war and no one panicked, the TD weapons were good negotiating material.
But fifteen years ago, the Autonomists had detonated a TD weapon in the Ura-Guinn system and they weren’t even losing, damn them. It was a surprise attack, later called preemptive by the Consortium negotiators.
The detonation didn’t behave as predicted. No one had been brave—or stupid—enough to test a full-scale detonation, so unexpected results weren’t surprising. Fifteen years ago, the temporal distortion wave at Ura-Guinn had destroyed the system buoy and generated a pulse through the entire time buoy network, called "the glitch.” This pulse carried data that shocked both Terran and Autonomist scientific communities, while giving Isrid and others hope, however hollow. Contrary to scaled-down tests and simulations, Ura-Guinn’s sun, specifically, its fusion engine, might have survived.
When it was discovered that ships transitioning out and in to real-space at the moment of the glitch were lost, it brought the consequences of war to every system in the League and the Consortium. The Minoans stepped in, asking TerraXL and CAW to meet at the negotiation table once more. Pax Minoica began, if rather unsteadily. The scientific communities analyzed the glitch data again. And again. They built the largest space antenna and scope ever attempted at Epsilon Eridani, but that didn’t change the time they’d have to wait. With the buoy at Ura-Guinn destroyed, the information couldn’t go any faster than the speed of light.
"The colony, if it exists, has gone through hell,” Sabina was saying. "The autonomists should be punished as if they’d damaged a habitat.”
"In four months, we’ll have light-speed data. We’ll be able to verify what’s happened to the planetary bodies.” Whenever he thought of that, he almost shivered with dread. He needed to know, but part of him didn’t want to know.
"And coincidentally, the final TD weapon treaty gets ratified before we even know what’s happened to Ura-Guinn,” she said. "How could we have allowed that?”
"I wasn’t in any position to delay negotiations.”
He didn’t add that his position was tenuous. She knew that. During the last decade, the political climate had changed and Isrid had been forced to change with it. The people and their leaders began to wholeheartedly back treaties that were originally only grudgingly supported because of the Minoans. Overlords began culling their staffs of rabble-rousers—those, like Isrid, who would not let the memories fade so easily. He had called for retribution, for revenge, but eventually found he was alone—unless the overlords or their staffs interpreted his speeches as an appeal for funds. Everyone still agreed that money was a problem.
"We’ll know more after the light-speed data is analyzed,” he added. "Then, in three years, the Campaign VII will arrive and we’ll have full access through the new time buoy.”
"Hmm, yes, an emergency generational ship. What a contradiction. We helped finance the bulk of that mission and when I say the Autonomists should pay, why can’t they reimburse us for those expenses?”
He didn’t want to think about their financial situation. They had more years of debt-load than he, his wives, or his children could live through. Other established Terran families were in the same position, but this only made his position and salary more precious because of the competition.
"It doesn’t work that way. I can’t demand reimbursement from the CAW Senate directly.” He paused; Sabina had a point. "Since I’ll be traveling into CAW on weapon inspections, I could try to re-finance with a Consortium bank, perhaps get better rates and fees. I could find other investors to back the Campaign ship.”
"So you support this final treaty.” Some of her anger leaked into her aura; he could see it, so recently close to meditation.
"I have to. Pax Minoica has become too strong to withstand, at least politically, and we have to keep the overlord’s patronage.”
Sabina nodded reluctantly. Her aura cleared back to its original green shot with yellow. "How long will the inspections take?”
"The actual inspection time is limited to one UT day. I don’t know how long the entire visit will take.”
"Will you be taking Maria?”
Oh, how cas
ually she asked that question! Isrid watched her for a moment and felt for changes in her aura. He didn’t detect any. Once again, he had no idea what she was feeling.
"Of course Maria will be on the inspection team,” he said. "She’s the best analyst with field experience that I have on my staff.”
There was another pause as each waited for the other to betray an emotion. Both were masters of somaural projection, and both revealed nothing. Sabina spoke first.
"Make your decisions carefully. Our future with the overlord may depend upon this test.” Her fingers flickered. Remember that revenge is engraved upon your heart.
Sabina turned smoothly and left. He knew she hoped to fan the embers of his anger, to keep it alive. Her aura faded, but the disturbance she had caused in his aura didn’t. Her blunt attempts at manipulation were another reason she didn’t accompany him at sensitive political occasions. Garnet, his first wife and the result of a contract between families, wasn’t as proficient at somaural projection, but she made up for it with her compliant and tactful behavior. This compliance also resulted in banal sex—hence the need for another wife. At least Sabina could express herself sexually, although that could be a problem when Maria was involved.
Isrid cleared his mind of family annoyances and focused on the treaty. His pulse quickened when he considered physically visiting CAW military facilities. This was the first treaty under Pax Minoica that allowed on-site verification of TD warhead inventories.
A chime sounded and he opened a view screen on the far wall.
State Prince Hauser, personal aide to Overlord Three, wore a smooth tan suit that politely let communication through. The muted blue insignia on his upper left pectoral region proclaimed his position.
After exchanging greetings, SP Hauser said, "The first baseline inspection to verify numbers of systems and warheads will be initiated on 380.5 UT. You’ll have to arrive at Karthage Point within a day of our initiation.” They don’t expect us to move so fast.
"SP, we’ve given up our best drone delivery systems. How can we justify this loss?” asked Isrid. With no disrespect toward the overlords, his head inclination and lowered eyes seemed to add. He might be overstepping his authority by questioning the terms of this treaty, but SP Hauser had a unique viewpoint because he’d been with the negotiating team.
"They have to destroy the Naga TD controller systems as well as eliminate the warheads. Since we have no manned deployment system, we’ve never been able to counteract the flexible Naga Force. Now Naga will have no fangs.” SP Hauser waited, receptive to more questions.
"What if they refit the Naga vehicles with kinetic weapons?” Isrid asked.
"That’ll be the least of our problems. We’re in a new age, where we fight in the back alleys of industry and technology,” Hauser said with a slight smile.
"You didn’t obtain the names of those responsible for Ura-Guinn. Did you try to negotiate for them?” This subject was close to Isrid’s heart and still made his anger burn. His operatives had learned that soon after the detonation, the military personnel who fired the weapon had managed to escape the system.
"Overlord Six asked for names during the early negotiations. CAW authorities said the records for that mission were destroyed at the end of the war.” SP Hauser radiated annoyance. They were lying. They’re so easy to read.
"My intelligence staff says there are still active reprisal squads.”
"Isrid, we can’t be associated with any of those teams, not now. It’s of paramount importance that the overlords aren’t sullied, in CAW’s eyes, by independent actions.” Hauser’s body language reinforced his words.
After SP Hauser signed off and Isrid downloaded Hauser’s packet, he spent a moment dealing with his frustration. He practiced somaural breathing and built his wall to the world while he examined his feelings. If he didn’t understand the roots of his anger, he’d never be able to control it.
The overlords had moved beyond Ura-Guinn, apparently willing to wait to see if the TD weapon had truly destroyed their colony. Hauser’s packet outlined the alarming issues besetting the overlords, the issues that were of the highest priority for their staffs. The Terran Expansion League’s planetary economies were in shambles. The League hadn’t established new colonies for several decades, with the exception of those it had ripped away from Consortium worlds during the war. They also suffered the expense of rehabilitating Terra. The overlords now pinned their hopes on injections of technology to galvanize their industry and combat the deleterious effects from depending upon Minoan artifacts. "Never depend upon technology you don’t understand and you can’t replicate” was sound advice, but TerraXL couldn’t afford such high principles while locked in economic struggle with the autonomous worlds.
Isrid examined SP Hauser’s list of personnel, also provided in the packet. Isrid could choose six inspectors from his own staff for each of the two inspection teams. Hauser provided twelve names and at first glance, they were innocuous, but an autoshredding message attached to the list disturbed Isrid.
"Andre Covanni will be accompanying your team.” The text from SP Hauser danced across his view port before dissolving.
Andre Covanni was the cover name for TerraXL’s most effective intelligence operative. Andre was a shadowy legend during the war and he remained undercover to continue his work for TerraXL. Isrid suspected that Andre was the intelligence conduit to the reprisal squads, but he also knew Andre reported to Overlord Three. Had the overlords truly severed ties to those squads?
Isrid puzzled over the message. Was Andre watching Isrid to ensure that he put aside his own feelings and conduct the inspection properly? Or was Andre being provided so Isrid might command the reprisal squads, and thus subvert Pax Minoica?
Overlord Three was testing him; now Isrid had to figure out which answer the overlord wanted.
Walking out of the Aether’s Touch, Matt bit back a yelp of surprise when he saw the departure list displayed near his slip. The AFCAW cruiser in the next slip, named the Bright Crescent, had disconnected. Ari took the mission. Otherwise, she’d have been waiting.
"Mr. Journey, are you paying attention?” The custom inspector’s tone was severe.
I asked her to consult me first. He’d receive a call, of course, where Ari would apologize profusely. She’d say things like "this is something I have to do” and she’d knot her eyebrows into that responsible and earnest expression. Her dark eyes would be wide and worried about his reaction, hoping he’d forgive her. Not this time, Ari.
"Mr. Journey?”
"Yes?” Matt looked down at the inspector, whom he now privately called Mr. Customs.
Besides having no sense of humor, Mr. Customs had ridden him mercilessly throughout the inspection. Not that Matt expected a free ticket, but the inspector had to check every single seal on the ship, whether electrical, mechanical, optical, or recorded in solid state or crystal.
"Where would I have gotten illicit AI in the asteroids of G-145?” Matt asked when Mr. Customs insisted on checking every ruleset installed on Aether’s Touch for piracy, whether it qualified as AI or not. He received no answer.
"Once I apply my seal, Mr. Journey, you have six hours to file your claims, or lose your rights of pedis possessio.” The stout and stiff inspector made a grandiose gesture of applying his thumbprint to the slate before extending it toward Matt. "Your clock is ticking.”
"Sure—I get stiffed with the short deadline. Everybody else gets two months to bid for leases,” Matt grumbled good-naturedly, hoping to establish a rapport with the inspector. No one liked complicated CAW exploration law, in part because it was deeply rooted in old planetary mining law.
As Matt reached for the slate to apply his thumbprint, Mr. Customs whipped it away. He looked up from his empty hand to meet the inspector’s eyes. Already too small for his face, they were squinted in anger.
"Who are you to question exploration and salvage laws? You’re just crèche-get that passes through in your fancy ship. The peo
ple who lease your claims take the real risks, while you sit back and make royalties off the backs of others.” Mr. Customs was standing as tall as he could and he only barely passed Matt’s shoulder. His lips quivered, then split into a sneer.
Didn’t this guy know anything about new space? Matt’s anger and blood surged to his face. Mr. Customs took a step backward.
"You think my work is safe?” Matt held out his hand for the slate, leaning over the short inspector. "Next time, check your facts and see how many second-wave prospectors never come back from new space. Now hand me that slate before I make a scene.”
Matt jerked his head toward the remotes fluttering on the edge of their privacy shields. The inspector’s eyes darted toward their growing audience. He had no idea how close Matt had come to losing his life in new space.
They had less than ten days left in their prospecting season when Matt made his fateful decision. They’d already discovered the culture-shattering ruins on Priamos moon. If he’d stuck to the schedule, they would have continued to tediously assess large outer-system asteroids. Instead he abruptly decided to go in-system again, swinging by Priamos and its owner, Laomedon. Ari had raised her eyebrows when changing their course, but later, she admitted his instincts had paid off.
That’s when they discovered the artifact floating in an empty chunk of space between the orbits of planet Sophia II and gas giant Laomedon. It had been too small and isolated to be caught in their original mapping process.
"It can’t be natural, which means there was a space-capable civilization in this system.” She stared at the readings that indicated a cylindrical object about forty meters by ten meters. "But what is it?”
"I don’t know. The more important question: Why isn’t it moving?”
"Everything moves, Matt. This thing might be stable because of Laomedon’s orbit about the sun.”
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