Masterminds

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  Gomez hadn’t told Simiaar yet. Simiaar was working with Dabir Kaspian on the DNA found in the Anniversary Day sites. Simiaar was running all sorts of tests with rubble from the ruin, not just looking for old human DNA, but for alien DNA as well.

  One of the labs had asked Simiaar if she wanted to open her own lab here. Kaspian was trying to talk Berhane Magalhães into starting a side organization that searched for non-human dead from the various crises.

  Everyone had opportunities now, and it startled Gomez. She had thought she was throwing away her career when she left the Stanley. Instead, she had the chance to start a whole new one.

  She was in her quarters, mulling over Odgerel’s offer. In typical fashion, Odgerel had given Gomez only a few hours to consider a massive lifestyle change.

  Gomez loved the Frontier. She loved running her own ship. She could continue doing that forever—

  If only she could trust that the Alliance would follow up on the information she found and properly handle the people she arrested. But she still couldn’t trust that, and it bothered her.

  This department that Odgerel wanted her to lead could change the culture of the Security Division forever. They both knew it.

  What Gomez had to determine was if she could handle all of the petty politics, the infighting, and the day-to-day grind.

  Then she sat on the edge of her bed and laughed at herself. Of course she could handle that. She had run a large ship with no backup in the wildest parts of the known universe.

  She had been a combination diplomat, soldier, investigator, and parent, and anything else that the job required.

  She could do what Odgerel asked.

  In fact, they both knew there was no one better, no one who would care as much.

  Gomez already knew who her second in command could be. Wilma Goudkins had proven she cared in the exact same way that Gomez did. Goudkins hadn’t just lost her naiveté during Anniversary Day; she had actually lost family. She would fight as passionately as Gomez would.

  Gomez stood. It turned out that she hadn’t needed hours after all.

  Maybe Odgerel was as smart as everyone said she was.

  Apparently, she had known exactly what Gomez needed.

  Gomez smiled to herself. She was going to talk to Simiaar and the rest of her crew.

  Deep down, she had no doubt they would join her.

  But she would be fair, like Odgerel had been with her.

  Gomez would give them a few hours to decide.

  And she hoped they would all make the right choice.

  SEVENTY-EIGHT

  AFTER TWO VERY long days, Ó Brádaigh finally made it home. The little house he had bought with Laraba before the very first bombing over four years ago had never looked so welcoming.

  He had spoken to his mother once every day, and to Fiona even more. She had begged him to come home, but he couldn’t, not until he knew that Armstrong’s dome was completely safe.

  He had caught a few hours of sleep whenever he could, and he had eaten just as haphazardly. But he hadn’t cared.

  He had supervised every examination of the dome, and he had looked at each seam, each connection, personally. He had even peered at those explosives, so small and nearly clear. From a meter away, they had been invisible to the naked eye.

  He knew how close the dome had come to complete disaster. He had been lucky.

  Although Chief DeRicci hadn’t called it luck when she had asked him what he had been doing in the substructure that day. She had said his vigilance had saved them all. She was talking about a promotion or a medal or something.

  He had been so tired he couldn’t track any more.

  He staggered up the walk and let himself in the side door. His kitchen smelled of gingerbread, and his stomach growled. He loved gingerbread. Trust his mother to remember that.

  But after he pulled off his shoes in the tiny entry, he peered into the kitchen and frowned. Something was wrong.

  Fiona stood on her stepstool, the one his mother always let her use when she helped with the cooking. Flour was everywhere, and it had the distinctive whiteness of Earth flour, not the yellow-tinge of Moon flour. Even Fiona’s hair was coated in it.

  The woman beside her was too small and trim to be his mother. And the woman’s short hair curled slightly against the nape of her neck.

  She looked like Berhane.

  Only he had never invited Berhane to his house. He had worried about her getting too close to Fiona, an oversight he would rectify now. In fact, he was going to ask Berhane to marry him, and he was going to keep asking her until she said yes.

  Only their engagement would be short—maybe a few days or a month, none of this years-long stuff that her ex-fiancé had subjected her to.

  Ó Brádaigh blinked, wishing his imagination would settle down, and turn that woman back into his mother. He would contact Berhane once he had some sleep.

  The woman turned and smiled at him.

  “Welcome home,” she said.

  “Yeah, Daddy.” Fiona climbed off her stool and ran toward him, hitting him with such force around his knees that he had to catch himself on the wall to keep from falling over. “Where’ve you been? Berhane’s been cooking. We got tons of food, and we was going to wake up Gramma in a minute because it wouldn’t keep.”

  Ó Brádaigh frowned. He was awake. He was wide awake, and that meant Berhane was in his kitchen.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Berhane said. “Your mother needed someone to help her with Fiona, and I volunteered.”

  He wasn’t sure when Berhane and his mother had had a chance to talk. He wasn’t sure about anything, but he was glad for it.

  “You can bake gingerbread?” he asked.

  Berhane smiled. “I can do a lot of things.”

  There was something suggestive in that sentence.

  Ó Brádaigh put his hand on his daughter’s head, and then he bent over and picked her up. She had grown heavier in the past two days, or maybe he had just gotten so tired that holding her was an effort.

  “We’re going to give you food,” Berhane said, “and then you’re going to sleep.”

  “And then what?” he asked, his gaze on her. Flour touched the tip of her nose, and coated one arm.

  “Then we’re going to have a talk,” Berhane said.

  His breath stopped. “About what?”

  “I can’t say the word right now,” Berhane said. “But it involves a future and a family.”

  He smiled. “Are you asking me for a commitment without using a word that starts with m?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I was going to ask you for that same thing,” he said.

  “Do I get some?” Fiona asked, squirming in his arms until she could see Berhane.

  “I think you will,” Berhane said with a smile.

  Ó Brádaigh smiled back. “I hope to God I’m not dreaming this.”

  “You want me to pinch you, Daddy?” Fiona asked.

  Ó Brádaigh laughed. He was awake. And his future was staring him in the face.

  His gaze was still locked with Berhane’s. “No need to pinch me, baby,” he said to Fiona. “That would hurt. Just give me a kiss.”

  So she did.

  SEVENTY-NINE

  THE HOSPITAL ROOM looked more like a suite in a high-end spa. Flint had never seen anything quite like it. At least, he knew his money was being put to good use.

  He stood beside Zagrando’s bed, arm around Talia. She leaned into him. Zagrando was propped up against a pile of pillows, his face pale. His eyes sparkled.

  “So I get here in time for the crisis and sleep through it.” He had spent the last few days in what the doctors called a healing sleep, so that the nanohealers could repair the extensive damage he had suffered in his fight with Ike Jarvis.

  “You didn’t sleep through all of it,” Flint said. “You brought us some crucial information.”

  “Which, apparently, I gave to you in a completely garbled fashion. You could’
ve used me.” Zagrando looked disappointed in himself.

  “You might’ve gotten in the way,” Flint said, but he was lying. He probably could have used Zagrando. And Talia.

  But she had guarded Zagrando and stayed calm during the crisis two days ago. She had closed the door to Zagrando’s room during the chaos caused by the release of images, and she hadn’t known anything about the potential destruction of the dome until the crisis was over.

  Flint actually had the luxury of easing her into the news about Crater de Gerlache. Talia had mourned the loss of life, but she also understood how the loss of that city had led the rescue of the Moon.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Talia said to Zagrando. “You’re someone I can talk to besides my dad about clones.”

  Zagrando gave her a penetrating look. “No one else knows?”

  Flint felt her head shake, gently hitting his biceps as she did so.

  Zagrando nodded a little, then his gaze met Flint’s. In that gaze was an understanding for both of them. Being a clone had just become a lot harder than it had ever been before—and it hadn’t been easy before.

  “Probably best,” Zagrando said.

  “I know.” Talia sounded miserable. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “We’ll talk,” Zagrando said. “Because something happened to me after you left Valhalla Basin that helped me understand what you’re going through even more.”

  “What?” Talia asked.

  “Turns out someone made a clone out of me too.” He leaned his head back against the pillows. He looked exhausted.

  “I think that’s enough for today,” Flint said. “Let’s let him rest.”

  “I’ve been sleeping since I got here,” Zagrando said, his eyes closed.

  “And you’re going to sleep some more,” Flint said. “Talia and I will be back tomorrow.”

  Flint tightened his arm around Talia and half pulled her away from the bed. They were almost out of the room when Zagrando said, “Hey, Flint.”

  Flint turned. “What?”

  Zagrando’s eyes were barely open. “I’m impressed as hell with what you did the last few days.”

  “Thank you,” Flint said, a little surprised.

  “I figured someone had to say it.” Zagrando closed his eyes, and within seconds, his head slipped slightly. He was already asleep.

  “He’s right, Dad,” Talia said. “You did it.”

  “No,” Flint said. “It took hundreds of us, maybe thousands if you count everyone in all the domes.”

  “Based on information you put together,” Talia said.

  “That others provided,” Flint said. “It took a community to save the Moon.”

  She wrapped her arm around him and squeezed. “I’m glad it did,” she said. Then she added in a very small voice, “Are we going to be safe now?”

  If the circumstances had been different, he would have given her an honest, adult answer, that no one was ever really safe, that life could change in an instant, and it would always surprise.

  But she knew that. Her life had changed in an instant, and because of the man on that hospital bed, she had a new life with Flint on the Moon. She understood that.

  And it hadn’t been what she was asking. She was asking if this crisis was really over.

  “We’re safe, Talia,” Flint said. “I promise.”

  “I thought so,” she said, and then let him go. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  He smiled as he watched her step out the door ahead of him. He hadn’t realized until that moment that he needed to say it out loud.

  The crisis was over.

  They were safe.

  He pulled the door closed, and followed his daughter into their future, relieved that their lives were returning to normal—one step at a time.

  Can’t get enough of the Retrieval Artist Universe? Check out the Endeavor Award-winning novel that launched the series, The Disappeared, available now from your favorite bookseller.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  USA Today bestselling author Kristine Kathryn Rusch writes in almost every genre. Generally, she uses her real name (Rusch) for most of her writing. Under that name, she publishes bestselling science fiction and fantasy, award-winning mysteries, acclaimed mainstream fiction, controversial nonfiction, and the occasional romance. Her novels have made bestseller lists around the world and her short fiction has appeared in eighteen best of the year collections. She has won more than twenty-five awards for her fiction, including the Hugo, Le Prix Imaginales, the Asimov’s Readers Choice award, and the Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine Readers Choice Award.

  Publications from The Chicago Tribune to Booklist have included her Kris Nelscott mystery novels in their top-ten-best mystery novels of the year. The Nelscott books have received nominations for almost every award in the mystery field, including the best novel Edgar Award, and the Shamus Award.

  She writes goofy romance novels as award-winner Kristine Grayson, romantic suspense as Kristine Dexter, and futuristic sf as Kris DeLake.

  Her popular weekly blog on the changes in publishing has become an industry must-read.

  She also edits. Beginning with work at the innovative publishing company, Pulphouse, followed by her award-winning tenure at The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, she took fifteen years off before returning to editing with the original anthology series Fiction River, published by WMG Publishing. She acts as series editor with her husband, writer Dean Wesley Smith, and edits at least two anthologies in the series per year on her own.

  To keep up with everything she does, go to kriswrites.com. To track her many pen names and series, see their individual websites (krisnelscott.com, kristinegrayson.com, krisdelake.com, retrievalartist.com, divingintothewreck.com). She lives and occasionally sleeps in Oregon.

  Look for These Other Titles from Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  THE RETRIEVAL ARTIST SERIES:

  The Disappeared

  Extremes

  Consequences

  Buried Deep

  Paloma

  Recovery Man

  The Recovery Man’s Bargain (Novella)

  Duplicate Effort

  The Possession of Paavo Deshin (Novella)

  The Anniversary Day Saga:

  Anniversary Day

  Blowback

  A Murder of Clones

  Search & Recovery

  The Peyti Crisis

  Vigilantes

  Starbase Human

  Masterminds

  Other Stories:

  The Retrieval Artist (A Short Novel)

  “The Impossibles” (A Retrieval Artist Universe Short Story)

  Sign up for the WMG Publishing newsletter to receive updates about new releases, bonus content and more at wmgpublishing.com

  Copyright Information

  Masterminds

  Book Eight of the Anniversary Day Saga

  Copyright © 2015 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  Published by WMG Publishing, Inc.

  Cover and Layout copyright © 2015 by WMG Publishing

  Cover design by Allyson Longueira/WMG Publishing

  Cover art copyright © Skypixel/Dreamstime

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Author's Note

  Seventy Years Ago

  One

  Sixty Years Ago

  Two

  Fifty-Four Years Ago

  Three

  Now

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen
/>
  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Forty-three

  Forty-four

  Forty-five

  Forty-six

  Forty-seven

  Forty-eight

  Forty-nine

  Fifty

  Fifty-one

  Fifty-two

  Fifty-three

  Fifty-four

  Fifty-five

  Fifty-six

  Fifty-seven

  Fifty-eight

  Fifty-nine

  Sixty

  Sixty-one

  Sixty-two

  Sixty-three

  Sixty-four

  Sixty-five

  Sixty-six

  Sixty-seven

  Sixty-eight

  Sixty-nine

  Seventy

  Seventy-one

  Seventy-two

  Seventy-three

  Seventy-four

  Two Days Later

  Seventy-five

  Seventy-six

  Seventy-seven

  Seventy-eight

  Seventy-nine

  About the Author

  Look for These Other Titles from Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  Copyright Information