"This level has limited access. It’s only open to me and my staff,” Isrid said coldly.
"Certainly, SP.” Istaga smiled ingratiatingly.
This was a Terran ship and they no longer had to worry about spying ComNet nodes, but Dr. Istaga kept his hand and wrist close to his body when he signaled: SP Hauser told you who I am, and to whom I must answer.
Isrid had thought Istaga couldn’t project, but he was wrong. Most somaural masters moved with a precision that implied their specialty. Istaga slouched and his body and physical movements didn’t look as though he did any daily exercise, yet he was able to project complex sentences. He hid his abilities well.
"I understand,” replied Isrid aloud. "But unless you want to produce identification and clearances, you still must leave this section.”
"I wanted to warn you. I know who, or rather what, you’re holding.” Dr. Istaga gave a nod of disdain toward the hold where Major Kedros was kept.
Istaga’s subtext was clear, stating that Overlord Three would receive his independent report. If Overlord Three passed this on, the entire top echelon of the League could know that Isrid captured one of the crew members that detonated the only TD warhead, the warhead used against the League. When they dealt with the Consortium, the overlords preferred to have a united front—and that usually didn’t include forgiveness.
"What does Overlord Three want from me?” Isrid was tired of guessing.
"I don’t envy you your choices. Most overlords like initiative in their state princes, but not too much. You’ve got a fine line to walk, keeping the welfare of the League in mind. Remember that Overlord Three must pass a vote of confidence within a year.”
"What would you do?” asked Isrid.
"Me? Personally? I’d take out all sweet acts of revenge possible upon her body and put her out an air lock. But I’m carrying around mental baggage from the war and I don’t carry the responsibilities of a state prince.” Dr. Istaga wagged a finger.
Isrid glared at him. Dr. Rok Shi Harridan Istaga, also known as Andre Covanni, wasn’t leaving him with any advice of value.
"You’re a state prince,” Istaga said softly. "Even though she saved your life, she offers the League a boost of morale with a statement of guilt. Humiliation at a Terran trial for her war crimes might be even better. Consider what would be best for the League when you make your final decision.”
CHAPTER 17
Am I the only one disturbed by the latinization of Common Greek? Latin phrases have always played a part in our insanely complicated legal code, but now it’s insidiously creeping into our everyday language! [Link to examples]
—Rant: Purity of Our Language, Stan Gregorios, 2104.345.12.15 UT, indexed by Heraclitus 21 under Conflict Imperative
When Isrid entered the hold, he turned off all W cam-eyes and monitoring equipment. He knew, just like Nathan, that all interrogations should be documented, but he couldn’t afford records of this decision, this interview. It would be controversial because no solution would please everyone. It’d also give his political rivals too much material.
The ship’s scrubbers worked vigorously, but they couldn’t clear the smells of blood and sweat. He walked over to the table and looked down at Major Kedros. She was conscious.
After seeing the results of Nathan’s handiwork numerous times, Isrid expected that she’d look worse. The swelling around her eyes had gone down enough to let her see. The bruises on her face were already turning green. Under stimulation her bone was mending quicker than the norm, according to the ship’s doctor, who told Isrid privately that Kedros might be the result of minor, but successful, rejuv.
Isrid heard that AFCAW had dabbled in rejuv, although it was dangerous and unreliable. Instead of attempting full-body rejuv procedures, TerraXL medicine focused in the area of genetic design and eugenics, but Isrid had ordered the doctor to take as many samples from Major Kedros as possible while she was unconscious. He didn’t want to pass up the possibility of snagging medical advances for the League. It was a violation of CAW privacy law, but honoring that was laughable, considering what they’d already done to Kedros.
"Major Kedros.”
Her eyes focused on him, but they were devoid of fear or hope. She was naked and vulnerable, yet she had no fear of dying. Not now. He knew he’d made the right decision.
"I know you want to die,” he continued softly. "That’d be the easy way out for both you and me. Instead, I’m guaranteeing that you’ll get off this ship alive.”
As he expected, alarm and pain flashed through her eyes. Her mouth tried to form a one-word question. Why?
"I won’t insult Nathan by saying that you’re tormenting yourself more than we could, but I’m happy to see that you’re shouldering the guilt for what you’ve done. I’m stopping your interrogation, so you can consider what you owe us for Ura-Guinn.”
He paused. As always, naming the system where his brother had probably died caused a surge of pain and anger. He savored it while he traced along her neck and her jawbone with his fingers. She flinched at his touch and he smiled.
"Truthfully, Major, part of me would be disappointed to see you break, and the other part would revel in your pain. But you saved my life, so I have a debt to pay—rather small when compared to yours, wouldn’t you say?”
She closed her eyes.
"You must bargain for the same clemency for others . That will be your punishment, and after I pay this debt, if we see each other again, don’t expect the same mercy.” Isrid released her restraints and left the hold immediately.
She estimated several hours had passed since Parmet had removed her restraints. She dozed, trying to regain her strength. Then she limped about the small climate-controlled hold, designed to store sensitive goods or be converted to temporary quarters. She wanted to assess her prison, but also to find her uniform. Where were her damned clothes?
Currently, the hold was decorated in late-twenty-first-century torture-chamber style. In the center of the floor was a convertible stretcher with a skeleton restraint, where the occupant could be horizontal or slanted to almost vertical. This was where she had been when she woke.
The hold lacked a full hygiene closet, but there were rudimentary waste and water facilities in a closet set flush in the wall. She relieved herself, ignoring decorum. Let the watchers make the assumption that she thought she was unobserved. The baton that Nathan had used on her was neatly stored in one of the lockers, with a few other basic torture implements.
There was no mirror, but she probed about her face, neck, collarbone, breastbone, and shoulders. She pulled off flakes of dried blood and she winced from the bruising, but she didn’t think that any bones had been broken. Her legs were a different story. Her shins throbbed and displayed massive purple and green bruising. Stippled pricks, perfectly parallel, stood in rows drawn across her right shin. It looked like the effects from a bone growth stimulator. She was familiar with what the stimulator did, temporarily, to the skin.
They’d treated her and allowed her to heal, after they’d beaten her. Did they fix her, only to torture her again? She vaguely remembered Parmet leaning over her and saying there’d be no more torture. More specifically, he said there’d be no more interrogation and insinuated that she should be grateful. In exchange for—for what? Parmet obviously wanted cooperation and information.
She clenched her teeth, feeling hungry, sore, tired, and most uncooperative at this moment. Besides, what could she give them? She doubted they’d be interested in most of Owen’s dirty little missions. The fact that she’d broken an arms smuggling ring or rooted out a double agent hardly seemed worthy of Parmet’s attention. He certainly wouldn’t risk the Mobile TD Weapon Treaty or angering the Minoans, just for that.
He also appeared unconcerned about pursuit or justice; he probably banked on AFCAW ignoring this little kidnapping, to keep the treaty together. She could understand that. She doubted that Owen would risk Pax Minoica for an expensive embarrassment like her. Nathani
el Wolf Kim was right; she was alone.
Brandon. Did they want him also? She started pacing again, clenching her jaw. They wouldn’t get Brandon’s location from her, not voluntarily. Her memory was hazy about what happened while Kim interrogated her, but she was sure she’d never give up Brandon.
"Step toward the closet wall and turn your back to the door. Keep your hands away from your body.” Maria Guillotte’s voice sounded in the room.
Amused, Ariane did exactly as ordered. This wasn’t a v-play. Did they think she could overpower all her guards, race naked through a fully manned ship, and overpower the pilot and controllers in a ridiculously lengthy combat sequence? Ariane had run a good amount of v-plays during the long stretches of second-wave prospecting, but she could tell the difference between drama and real life.
The door opened and closed behind her. She smelled food. Her stomach rumbled and kicked.
"Turn around. Keep your hands in view and your back against the wall,” Maria said.
Where did Maria think she was going to hide her hands? Ariane slowly turned around. She heard hollow noises in a sequence that indicated she was behind a dual-hatch air lock for separately pressurizing this hold.
Parmet and Maria stood in front of the closed hatch. Parmet held a food tray and Maria held a stunner, aimed at Ariane. Strangely, this was the first time she felt self-conscious about her dress, or lack thereof, but she held her head high. While her situation was similar to many plucky heroines in v-plays and she had the advantage of knowing how to pilot the commercial TM-8440 used by the Terrans, she saw no hope of escape. The stunner Maria carried was standard TEBI issue; it was accurate and aimed with professional and unwavering ease. Ariane wouldn’t get through the first hatch, much less to ship controls or an escape pod. Besides, an escape pod only meant a lingering and painful death.
"She looks well enough, SP. Be cautious.” Maria made a motion with the hand that didn’t hold the stunner. That hand was splinted.
"I hope I did that.” Ariane nodded at Maria’s hand and smiled.
Maria’s eyes narrowed.
Ariane didn’t say anything more. It wasn’t wise to provoke an armed TEBI agent and it might not take too much to irritate Maria, particularly if she knew Ariane’s history. Searching her memory, Ariane couldn’t remember from the background briefs whether Maria had relatives on Ura-Guinn.
Parmet stepped forward and put the tray of food on his side of the constraint stretch, now set horizontal, then stepped back. Maria and Parmet were acting as if she were a dangerous caged animal, poking her with sticks while they stayed safely behind Maria’s stunner. The food smelled wonderful. They hadn’t given Ariane leave to step forward, so she stayed where she was, her back against the bulkhead. Her impatience with the silence goaded her into speaking first.
"Well, if you’re not going to kill me, then you’re risking the entire weapons treaty.”
She said this in a deadpan voice. She was tired of hiding. She couldn’t escape her wretched life through alcohol or drugs or N-space. Not that she wanted to kill herself—but if she could stop the expansion of the galaxies, stop the motions of the planets, and step away from her life as if it never happened, she would.
"No, you’re staying alive.” Parmet’s green eyes were wide and honest, his face open. His voice was gently chiding and familiar, as if at any moment he was going to say, "Ari, please just call me Isrid.”
She knew he was playacting with the subtle use of somaural projection, but she couldn’t help relaxing her stance. It was an involuntary reaction to his non-threatening body language and she tried to compensate by stiffening. Maria had a knowing smirk on her face, probably quite aware of the tricks that Parmet was using.
"Why?” Ariane asked.
"You have to be able to attest to the real story,” Parmet said.
"Which is?”
"You went AWOL, overwhelmed by the terrorist bombs, weapons inspection duties, whatever, by stowing away on our ship. Of course, you’ll probably be stripped of your commission.”
Parmet smiled warmly, but Ariane snorted.
"For payment of transporting you to Hellas Prime, you’re going to sign over the leases managed by Aether Exploration,” continued Parmet. "Don’t bother to argue about their significance. We already know what your civilian company discovered and we know you’ve got signature authority. You’ll sign them voluntarily, and your voice stress must pass any duress limits. After that, you’ll be on Hellas Prime, alive and able to testify that you did this all willingly.”
Her mouth dropped open; then she collected herself. "Why, in Gaia’s name, would I ever agree to such a fairy tale?”
"Because I know where your fellow crew members are hidden.” Parmet’s voice was silky. "I can publish their location on ComNet for everyone to see.”
An involuntary shiver went up her spine. How can he know where Brandon is? She started to cross her arms over her chest—an involuntary reaction of protection—and stopped when she saw Maria twitch her weapon.
"Come, Major Kedros. We both know there’s an assassin out there, waiting to finish all of you.” Parmet’s voice became gently chiding again.
"How do I know that you’re not the killer?” Ariane clenched her jaw. She was lying, trying to get time to think. She knew Parmet wasn’t responsible for the explosion on Karthage and therefore wasn’t the assassin.
"All you have to know is what I know, and what I’m bargaining with.” Parmet raised and twitched his hand in a liquid motion. A familiar voice, the voice of the Minoan emissary, filled the room: "The other Destroyers of Worlds are located within the Demeter Sanctuary on Hellas Prime.”
That’s how they knew. Ariane didn’t bother to argue about what "Destroyer of Worlds” meant, or find out whether they recorded the entire conversation, or how they’d obtained the recording.
"There are thousands of people on that sanctuary. You wouldn’t know who to target,” Ariane said.
"That’d be up to the someone who’s pursuing your crew. I’m only publishing the information.” Parmet shrugged. "All the more reason to cooperate with us and not put innocent people in danger.”
"How do I know I can trust you? You might release the information anyway after I leave.” She might be able to get to Hellas Prime and find Brandon, warn him—
"She’s thinking that she can find her crew before we can, SP.” Maria’s voice was level.
"That’s impossible, Maria. And we’d release the information before she hit the surface of Hellas Prime.” Parmet smiled, his eyes focused on Ariane. "This will be a long-term relationship, where each side has leverage.”
"Blackmail, you mean,” Ariane said.
"Whatever you want to call it. We can find your remaining crew members—we will track them down—and you can always try to claim coercion to rescind these contracts. The advantage for you is that having you alive, supporting your signatures, is better for us than killing you. The automatic investigation and suspension of your signatures issued within six months of your death would not be in our best interest. Until the six months pass, of course.”
"CAW has such incredible legal snarls; the Consortium must have been established by lawyers,” Maria said in an offhand tone, as if commenting upon the service at a restaurant.
Ariane slumped against the wall. It all boiled down to Matt’s business and her military career versus Brandon’s safety. What was a bit of money and her career, compared to the life of someone she’d respected, perhaps even loved?
But she had to consider other losses. Matt, as well as Owen, would never trust her again. I can live with that, if it keeps Brandon alive. It would also keep her alive, for six months at the least, but she didn’t look forward to that. Matt shouldn’t have trusted me in the first place.
Maybe she should try delaying tactics—but somehow she knew that this was the only chance Parmet was going to give her. It’d take him hardly any time, and cost him nothing, to publish Brandon’s location. There were plenty of craz
ies out there and at least one real assassin. . . . She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "What do you want me to sign?”
Parmet pointed to the wall on his right, where a display appeared. Ariane saw approximately fifteen leases on the right side of the view port, with eight companies on the left side.
"All these leases are offered by Aether Exploration?” she asked, a bit perplexed.
"These are the ones for which you have signature authority. They cover the research, development or exploitation, from mining to archaeology, of the small moon that Aether Exploration charted.”
She didn’t need to be told which moon. For a moment, she wondered why Matt had split everything up into small leases and contracts. Did any of these leases explicitly cover the artifact? Regardless, this many leases would require significantly more coordination between contractors, Aether Exploration, and the CAW SEEECB. She shrugged. It didn’t matter; she’d never be dealing with Aether Exploration again.
Parmet decided which company was applying for, and receiving, which lease. Maria handed Ariane a slate and she signed, using her public password for voiceprint and her thumbprint. There’d be no question that she signed these contracts. Parmet also required that she provide a standard free-will statement, which she recorded in a steady voice. There was no way Matt could rescind her signatures, because she wanted these contracts to stand. They were Brandon’s safety net.
"Is that enough?” Ariane handed the slate back to Parmet by leaning over the stretcher. "I don’t know how believable it’ll be. I don’t usually authorize the contracts.”
"Oh, we’ll make it believable,” said Maria. Ariane heard the snap and sizzle of the stunner. As she spasmed into unconsciousness, she hoped she’d broken Maria’s hand, and she hoped it’d hurt.
Isrid watched Maria check Kedros’s still body.
"She’s out. For how long, though, I don’t know.” Maria prodded and kicked Kedros in the ribs. When there was no reaction, her lips widened in a satisfied smile. She glanced toward Isrid and he saw her pupils were widening and her respiration rate had increased. Maria was intoxicated with rendering Kedros helpless.
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