Pathfinder

by Laura E. Reeve

  The faint sound of airlocks closing carried through the curved conference room bulkheads, the result of Ensign Walker making best speed to the Security Control Center. Sabina stepped out of the alcove with taut and controlled movements. She rivaled Isrid in somaural projection and showed off her artistry whenever she could.

  “We’ve received a threatening message,” Sabina said.

  Why the drama? He signaled Sabina to follow standard procedure. His public queue received several threats an hour, according to his security staff.

  “Has Flynn tagged it? Do Erica and Yvette need to take special precautions?” Garnet frowned, her thoughts going to their daughters.

  He’d spent precious out-of-system bandwidth this morning to talk with his daughters and neither had mentioned security problems. Luckily, they still lived within the secure family complex on Mars; Erica was beginning university courses and Yvette was studying for her secondary school finals. They assured him this hiatus from parental oversight wasn’t hindering their studies—although he read the sub-text of joyous freedom in their voices. It was a false joy, since Erica and Yvette knew the household staff sent daily reports and all their parents read them, down to the last detail. It was one of the disadvantages of only having three parents when Terran society considered a balanced child-rearing multimarriage as three fathers and three mothers.

  “The threat wasn’t routed to Mars.” Sabina’s fingers added, Our daughters are safe. “It popped up on our private queue here at Beta Priamos.”

  “Over ComNet? Unlikely, given its privacy controls,” Isrid said.

  Garnet poked at her slate. “Perhaps that’s the point. Whoever sent this knows where we are—physically.”

  “I think the point’s made clear in the text,” Sabina said. “The message promises dire consequences for a State Prince who allowed a destroyer of Ura-Guinn to go free, and for his family.”

  It was a reference to Major Kedros. Not many people knew her background, let alone that he’d ransomed her safety for the G-145 leases. Finally, something serious. Isrid picked up his slate, knocked out of an ennui brought on by station issues ranging from clearing sewage smells on Ring Three, to allowing prisoners their rightful hour of exercise under the Pilgrimage legal system.

  “Flynn’s already analyzing the message.” Sabina stopped him from searching his queue.

  “This goes no further—only our security will work this,” Isrid said. Garnet and Sabina nodded agreement; this was something they’d only trust to Flynn and his staff.

  “Flynn will have his analysis to you in an hour and he’s sending more personnel.” Sabina cocked her head to indicate the brawny male and female bodyguards outside the conference room. Flynn’s staff refused to be caught delinquent again in their protection of the State Prince and his family.

  Garnet sighed, probably weary of being trailed everywhere on a sparsely populated station.

  “Flynn also passed a keyword message, which I saved in your queue. The message is, Andre’s coming to the dance, but his card is empty.” Sabina quoted the message word for word, understanding the necessity for accuracy, but moved quickly to the true source of her ire. “Isrid, this threat is your fault. Your son wouldn’t be in this danger if you’d executed Kedros when you had the chance.”

  “I don’t need to hear this again,” Garnet murmured.

  He watched Garnet thoughtfully as she left the room with a calm and purposeful stride.

  “Our family is threatened by your actions.” Sabina raised her voice. “Or more accurately, by what you failed to do.”

  He slowly turned to look at Sabina, baiting her. We’ve been cooped up on this station for too long. His multimarriage had stood the test of time, perhaps only because he was absent for long stretches: first for the war, then for TEBI, and during the past decade, for political missions directed by Overlord Three. Now his multimarriage was having to endure Maria’s absence; more specific, his needy wife Sabina was going through withdrawal from her lover.

  “You had the chance to kill Kedros, yet you didn’t. Why not?” Sabina’s fingers flickered questions, or insults, depending upon the interpretation: Too intimidated? Too greedy?

  As intended, she hit a nerve. His outrage propelled him out of his chair and across two meters of floor before she could move. Surprised, she took an involuntary step backward to press against the curved bulkhead. He restrained her movement by placing his hands flat against the bulkhead on either side of her, but carefully kept his body centimeters away from hers, never touching.

  “I had the chance to infuse our economy with Autonomist money—what’s your excuse?” His voice was a cold snarl.

  “What?” Sabina, unusually petite for a Terran, glared up at him.

  “You had the chance to kill Major Kedros, yet you didn’t. Why not?” He echoed her question back at her.

  “Not enough time. Couldn’t do it cleanly.” Her voice was breathy and her words were a lie. She didn’t know why she hadn’t finished Kedros, and her body language shouted her confusion.

  He knew Sabina wasn’t really interested in his reasons. Taking the same care as he would with a dangerous captured animal, he tucked a short lock of her burgundy hair behind her ear. The dilation of her pupils told him what she wanted: attention.

  His fingers traced her delicate ear and moved down her neck, stroking warm skin that used to look like translucent porcelain. It was now temporarily copper-colored, as if burned by solar radiation. Sabina had made the very un-Terran move of getting a skin-do at an Autonomist salon that had recently opened on the station. She hadn’t let them touch her natural hair color, of course. Garnet had been duly horrified, possibly more by the salon bill than Sabina’s appearance. The skin-do would fade, and Isrid was indifferent to the change, but strangely attracted by Sabina’s act, her defiance of Terran decorum. Troublesome women enticed him and Sabina had always known this.

  “How much time?” she asked.

  He looked at the display on the wall. “Twenty minutes. I’ve got a meeting with Maintenance, then the arraignment.”

  “You work best under deadline.” She leapt up, her legs gripping his hips. Her opening mouth met his as he pressed her against the bulkhead.

  Their bodyguards would hear what they were doing, but they wouldn’t interrupt. This was just another example of his power and it went straight to his groin like any aphrodisiac.

  Ariane had no time to meet with Matt, because Colonel Edones drew her aside to give a statement to Pilgrimage security. She did message to say she and Joyce were all right, perhaps exaggerating how “safe” Joyce was, since the medics thought he’d been given a dangerously high dose of sedative. As for other mysteries, she didn’t speculate; she didn’t know whether she and Joyce were specific targets, or whether the timing and location of the explosive device were relevant. Still in reaction mode, she didn’t have time to think about the bigger questions.

  Edones ordered lunch delivered to the security office, where Benjamin Pilgrimage took her statement. Benjamin sniffed at the covered dishes when they arrived, but proceeded with recording the deposition. She gulped down food between answers, not even tasting it. Meanwhile, the ship’s time display edged closer and closer to thirteen hundred.

  “We need more information, Ariane, but the arraignment’s starting,” Benjamin said. “Its exposure ratings are already climbing, and net- think predicts it’ll be the most reviewed event of 2106.”

  The arraignment was held in the largest facility the Pilgrimage could provide: a small amphitheater for entertainment and presentations. Right now, the chaos matched a going-out-of-business sale at Athens Point’s biggest shopping mall, without the clouds of remotes, of course.

  After she entered, Ariane made her way toward the small cluster of Directorate uniforms, keeping an eye on the recorders hovering above the press box. They whirred and circled their handlers tightly, but they seemed enamored of Warrior Commander, who had followed her to the amphitheater, but now sat across fr
om the press box. Five guardians sat behind Warrior Commander. The red-robed Contractor Director wasn’t present.

  “There are more important fish for the Feeds to fry, Major.” Captain Floros smirked as Ariane sat down, taking the vacant aisle seat.

  Floros was right. They’d just had the equivalent of a decompression scare, but the Feeds had moved on. She and Joyce were old news within the hour, which was fine by her.

  The Directorate of Intelligence personnel clumped together in a dark row behind a sea of AFCAW red and gold service dress coats. On the other side of Captain Doreen Floros sat Lieutenant Diana Oleander. Next in the row sat Colonel Owen Edones and the newly arrived sublieutenant, Matthaios. Notably missing were Major Bernard, sent home to die of complications from radiation exposure, and Master Sergeant Joyce.

  A hush moved over the amphitheater as the Tribunal members filed in to sit at their bench on the dais. Representing the President of the Consortium of Autonomous Worlds was Senator Stephanos. Following him, representing the Pilgrimage ship line and family, who still held sovereignty over G-145, was Senior Commander Meredith of the Pilgrimage III. The recent hostile intrusion, takeover, and recovery had aged Meredith; Ariane noticed new creases on the Commander’s face.

  Last came the hatchet- faced Terran SP Duval, representing Overlord Six and the empire that now styled itself the Terran League, dropping the outdated “Expansion” term whenever they could. She leaned forward and twisted her head to look up at the wall displaying about forty-odd virtual attendees, searching for SP Parmet. Since there were so many remote testimonies to take, the Pilgrimage support crew opted to use hologram and v- play technology only when someone was on the witness stand, so flat view ports crowded together to show heads and shoulders of remote attendees.

  SP Parmet’s view port was so small, she couldn’t see if he still had bruises and electrode burns on his face, courtesy of Abram and his men. The interstellar justice community had asked the League to provide another representative, since Parmet couldn’t sit on the Tribunal as well as give testimony against the accused. To everyone’s surprise, the League sent a representative from Overlord Six. After all, the weapon came from Overlord Three’s arsenal, Tahir had thwarted Three’s security, and Abram had personally assaulted Three’s staff. On the other hand, many thought the League chose Duval because Abram’s home, Enclave El Tozeur on planet New Sousse, was within Duval’s territory and under Overlord Six.

  Edones was not so sure. Ariane saw him lean forward as Duval stepped up on the dais, watching carefully. He admitted he was troubled by this prominence of Overlord Six, the Overlord historically most hostile toward CAW. Beside her, Floros kneaded tense fingers together. The dour captain probably missed her slate. Recording devices, other than those registered to the press and security, were forbidden inside the amphitheater.

  Ariane leaned back and closed her eyes. Just a moment of rest, please—her eyes flew open as Commander Meredith opened the procedures with the sound of pipes.

  “I call to order the Fifth Interstellar Criminal Tribunal created under the authority of Pax Minoica.” Meredith’s amplified voice filled the large space. “This tribunal will address the charges against Abram Hadrian Rouxe’s original conspirators. The following must stand: Rand Douchet, Jareb Rouxe, Manuel Delacroix . . .”

  Directly in front of the bench, men in brown jumpsuits stood up as Meredith called their names. They seemed subdued and she wondered if they were finally convinced of the gravity of their situation. After all, the Tribunal could recommend the death penalty, which was still in effect in parts of the Terran League. Perhaps Rand, Abram’s man in control of the Pilgrimage III during the takeover, was learning to use the legal system. With Abram dead, Emery gone, and Tahir expelled, Rand became leader of this tribal band. The two-meter-high view port on the wall showed him turning calmly to speak to his defense counselors. In contrast to Tahir, Rand had requested Terran legal support.

  “Emery Douchet is charged in absentia.” On the wall behind Meredith, a face she knew well appeared in a large view port.

  Emery looked very much like Tahir, his cousin, but his eyes were much darker, having a reptilian arrogance mixed with a gleam of fanaticism and hate. She wondered why the Tribunal pretended there was a chance Emery could come back from the hell of N-space, where she had sent him.

  “. . . hereby charged under two articles. The first is Article Two, covering grave breaches of the Phaistos Protocols.”

  She stretched her legs to shake off Meredith’s soporific drone. These were the trivial charges.On the display going straight out on the Feeds, she saw Rand smirking. Her lids drooped. Squirming, she shifted to get a better view, hoping her movement would help her stay awake. Meredith finally arrived at the important charge.

  “The defendants are charged with crimes against humanity, under Article Five. Specifically, the intent to isolate and enslave the population of G-145 by detonating a temporal-distortion weapon.”

  Over in the press box, there was a subdued flutter at this first mention of a temporal-distortion weapon. Suddenly, video of Warrior Commander lost out to closeups of the defendants. Correspondents were rapidly tapping slates, probably messaging cohorts to perform research. Meanwhile, the defendants took their seats as Commander Meredith started formal witness disclosure for the prosecution, which was why most of the audience had to attend in person, giving their thumbprints at the door. Only witnesses who had justified their absence to the tribunal could attend virtually. She scanned the rows of tiny view ports and saw several people sleeping, including Tahir. His justification for attending virtually was the threat of bodily harm, made by the defendants.

  The Pilgrimage prosecution attorney stood up and began calling his witnesses. Today’s disclosure was a formality. The counsels for prosecution and defense had already exchanged witness lists, gone through their challenges, and stripped hearsay witnesses.

  Ariane saw her name displayed before the attorney read it. Her fingers gripped the arms of her chair and she felt an odd surreal moment until she saw the verification symbol appear beside her name. Because there never was a real Ariane Kedros. Her identity was an expensive fabrication, engineered by the Directorate after the Ura-Guinn mission.

  “Now for virtual attendees. Provide your voiceprint and thumbprint when I call your name, please.” The Pilgrimage attorney for the prosecution turned toward the wall of view ports. Audience heads swiveled, mimicking him.

  “State Prince Isrid Sun Parmet, home of record: Mars . . . AFCAW Master Sergeant Alexander Joyce, home of record: Hellas Daughter . . .”

  As the prosecution called each name, the view port expanded so everyone in the amphitheater could see details. Joyce was still unconscious and a medic verified his identity. Parmet’s face barely showed the torture he had suffered. Sabina—that psychotic bitch—had gotten a skin-do since Ariane had last seen her, but Garnet and Maria looked the same. The only witness of minor age, Chander Sky Parmet, was a striking combination of Sabina and Parmet’s genes, having golden skin, green eyes, and chestnut hair with burgundy tones. Chander replied confidently in a clear voice. These Terran witnesses were on Beta Priamos, which was a nine-hour trek, on average, across the solar system.

  “Dr. Tahir Dominique Rouxe, current home of record: Teller’s Colony.”

  This was the prosecution’s star witness and every face in the audience turned toward the expanding view port that showed—nobody. The node cam- eye had algorithms for finding and focusing on bipedal forms and human faces. The cam-eye panned back and forth, showing a small room with a small service panel, a bed, and a table with chair. Where was Tahir? Ariane had seen him, several minutes ago, with his head lying on the table. Did security escort him to the head at just the wrong time? Pilgrimage didn’t have the time, or money, to put hygiene facilities inside each cell.

  “Security.” Commander Meredith motioned to the head of Pilgrimage security, who made a call.

  More than a thousand people watched in quie
t fascination as the cam-eye started focusing on irregular outlines, still looking for a person.

  “There he is!” Murmurs started as the cam-eye found a foot peeking out from under the large writing table.

  Suddenly, the cam-eye refocused on a security officer bursting into the cell. The entire amphitheater watched the officer pull Tahir out from under the table, where he’d slid, and query his implant. Time of death, as recorded by the implant, was twelve minutes ago. The crowd’s sudden uproar drowned out audio from the cell. A medical resuscitation team appeared and many watched, irresistibly hooked, as the medical drama ended in failure.

  Ariane turned away to look at the displays the Feeds were sending out of the solar system. One correspondent had focused on Rand’s face to catch his reaction. He was laughing.

  CHAPTER 5

  Dr. Rouxe’s murder [link to my proof] is a smokescreen to divert us from the true shocker in the Interstellar trials: How did a rogue temporal-distortion weapon get to G-145? Guess what? Our government knew all about it. Stay with us as we keep you informed of the conspira- cies unraveling behind this macabre theater.

  —Citizens for Responsible Disarmament, 2106.053.20.00 UT, indexed by Heraclitus 17 under Conflict Imperative

  “Ari, this doesn’t look good.” Matt might have been worried, but she couldn’t be sure because his voice was flattened by compression.

  She was standing in the stagnant outflow of people from the amphitheater. Standing on tiptoe to look about the crowd, she realized many people leaving the arraignment had slowed to make calls and the Pilgrimage’s internal communications were swamped. “I know. This ship still isn’t secure.”

  “You’re missing my point.” Matt’s voice sharpened.

  “Sorry?” She keyed up her ear bug’s output to override the crowd’s babble.