Pathfinder

by Laura E. Reeve

  There was a disturbing pattern to the questions Myron and his lackeys had asked. They would ask what “decision process” was performed before the task, even if it was merely following orders to load missiles. The answer was usually that the task was performed rapidly and instinctually , because the crew member had performed the task many times under training. This would elicit a look of consternation and dismay, usually followed by a patronizing comment about needing to fully analyze one’s actions.

  This was the antithesis of the military goal of a well-trained crew. Did they really want us to spend time dithering? She threw herself on her bed. Even though they hadn’t arrived in G- 145 to do battle, there had been a ticking clock: prevent Abram from detonating his stolen temporal-distortion weapon.

  The worst part had been Myron’s interest in the early casualties they’d had, right after dropping into the mine-field. She tried not to blame herself; she’d been targeting the mines with slugs to push them away. Several of the mines had blown up, a statistical probability of one in ten. Unfortunately, one mine damaged the compartment the commandos occupied. One soldier was seriously injured and one would never see home or family again.

  She’d already gone over the logs herself, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t responsible. The pilot who was orienting the rail guns had also combed through the data and had concluded that they couldn’t have done anything different. Now, after seeing an uncharacteristic gleam in Myron’s eye as he’d looked over the same log, she dreaded her upcoming testimony.

  “Command: Display messages.” She rolled over to face the bulkhead, expecting to see messages from Matt.

  A view port opened on the wall with the error message, “Queue for Lieutenant Oleander is currently unavailable.”

  What did that mean? She called the comm officer on duty, luckily getting Lieutenant Kozel, who she knew better than the others.

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but you were off-ship when we made the announcement. They want to keep our queues and data cores static, so they diverted our queue traffic to the Pilgrimage. You won’t lose any calls, but you’ll have to use the Pilgrimage’s systems to go through them.”

  After concluding her call with Kozel, she lay on her back, feeling her eyelids droop. She was too tired to get dressed, get permission to debark, and process through security to get off the Bright Crescent. Now she really hated whoever was behind this audit.

  Ariane looked down at the small packing crate filled with Mr. Barone’s belongings. On top of his clothes, she’d laid a picture frame that cycled through still portraits of him and his family. The big, quiet man with the deep voice had left a wife and a daughter on Hellas Prime. She’d flipped through everything loaded in the frame, just to see the wide smile on his face. In the photos, there was artwork made by his daughter, who looked to be about six years old.

  There was also a lumpy sculpture beside the frame, on Barone’s working surface. It was a reptilian creature formed of polymer clay and painted with dabs of lime green, dark green, and yellow. When she turned it over, she saw “Pattie” scratched on its belly. She decided it was supposed to be a sibber, an amphibian that lived near the equatorial shores of a continent on Hellas Prime. Sibbers were smart; they were easily house- trained, loved interacting with children, and had quickly become domesticated pets after Hellas Prime was colonized. She gently laid the sculpture in the zero-gee shipping container and sealed it. The address of Barone’s family residence on Hellas Prime brightened on the top.

  Dr. Lowry stuck her head in the door. “Do you need any help?”

  “We’ve finished all but one. You can help us with Peter Katsaros’s quarters,” Matt said, taking a last look around Barone’s office.

  “You said you were close to Peter. If you don’t want to do this . . . ?” Ariane let her voice trail off into a question, remembering Lowry’s stricken look when speaking of Peter.

  “Yes, we were—starting to date.” Lowry looked sideways, then cast her gaze downward. “But I can manage.”

  “This way.” Matt led them to the next room down the hall. He eagerly held his hand over the glowing symbol, to meet the extended four-clawed holographic scanner. The door opened for him; the researchers figured the scanners performed sensitive topographic mapping and thus, one alien palm was as good as any other for identification.

  Ariane smiled, standing back to watch. Despite the somberness of their task, Matt was still exuberantly interested in the novelty presented by the Builders’ technology. Beside her, Dr. Lowry made an impatient sound under her breath and followed Matt into Peter Katsaros’s quarters.

  “Peter’s things are to be sent to his older sister, it appears.” Matt was reading his slate.

  “No living parents? Any other family?” Ariane asked, watching Dr. Lowry rifle through Peter’s work area and desk. She didn’t get an answer.

  Matt packed Peter’s clothes, Lowry focused on his personal slate and reference library, and Ariane, to her surprise, got the most personal items. She picked up the frame next to the bed, turned it on, and flipped through the contents by pressing the arrow on the lower right- hand corner. There were stills of a couple with a son, perhaps Peter’s sister’s family, one with Peter alone and one with colleagues in the Builders’ great hall; she recognized Barone, with his arm draped over the younger Peter. Lowry wasn’t in any of the stills, and she really didn’t have time to run through the videos in the frame.

  “Dr. Lowry, you mentioned Peter was helping you research the buoy.” Ariane turned off the frame and placed it in the shipping container before turning to face the Terran woman. “I thought the Minoans had shown no interest in the Builders’ technology, in particular the dead N-space buoy. Why would Hellas Nautikos assign him to your team?”

  “You military intelligence types are always suspicious, aren’t you?” Lowry’s eyes glinted. “Aren’t we supposed to be working together under Pax Minoica?”

  At the sound of her antagonistic tone, Matt’s head jerked around to watch them. She tried to defuse Lowry with a mild tone. “I’m asking only because the artifact was a topic of discussion when I visited earlier. Mr. Barone had made a point of the Minoan’s obvious lack of curiosity.”

  “I was the one who asked Hellas Nautikos for Dr. Katsaros’s time, as a consultant. I needed his input.”

  “Because he’s an expert on the N-space boundary? I’ve read he’s studied transition mechanisms other than the Penrose Fold.” Ariane smiled. “I try to keep up with the field, in my own amateur way.”

  Lowry’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you went through a military academy.”

  “We could specialize on Nuovo Adriatico. My principal course of undergraduate study was astrophysics.”

  “Ari’s not your normal N-space pilot,” Matt said. “Maybe that’s why the Minoans asked for her.”

  “Perhaps.” Lowry didn’t sound convinced.

  “As for Peter—he helped you make headway on understanding the buoy, perhaps even operating it?” Ariane asked. “How do you know that he wasn’t helping the Minoans pass you information?”

  “We want you to be successful,” Matt whispered.

  “I don’t know for sure whether Dr. Katsaros was providing his original thought and effort to the project.” Lowry’s mouth shrunk into wrinkles as she concentrated. “My gut feeling is that he was honest with us. Even if the Minoans were trying to feed us information, we’re still a long way from needing a pilot, regardless of what they inferred in the kick-off meeting. First, we need an expensive exploration-class ship and we’re going to have to build a different referential engine.”

  Ariane opened a case that held several rings and wrist-bands. Peter Katsaros had a love of precious metals and metalworking, it seemed. She packed the case carefully with the picture frame.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go.” Lowry sighed. “I need to send a report to Dr. Novak, so we can start translating the symbols on the buoy tomorrow.” She nodded good-bye and abruptly left. Her foots
teps faded away as Matt and Ariane exchanged a glance.

  Ariane raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think she found what she was looking for.”

  “What do you mean?” Matt surveyed the cluttered desk.

  “She didn’t pack anything and she looked through every slate, even the data stored in the desk.”

  “You are suspicious.” Matt’s head turned and he frowned at her over his shoulder. “This comes from being around that bastard Edones for too long. You can’t trust anyone.”

  “This isn’t about trust, it’s just that I don’t understand her,” she protested, sidestepping the dig about Colonel Edones. “She says she was dating Peter Katsaros, yet she stayed away from his personal effects, like they carried a pandemic virus. There are no photos of her with him, and why does she keep calling him Dr. Katsaros?”

  “So she’s uptight about titles and degrees. Maybe she can’t deal with looking through his belongings. Besides . . .” Matt ruffled his hair and grimaced. “I’ll put this delicately: Do you think you’re the best judge of a normal relationship?”

  She was blindsided by his comment, made more painful by his honest tone. It hurt enough to make her blink hard and rapidly.

  “I’m not qualified to make that judgment either,” Matt added quickly. She looked away as he babbled. “I don’t trust people, and considering how Leukos—”

  Matt stopped. When she looked back at him, he had the glimmer of an idea sparkling in his eyes. Obviously, he’d forgotten what he’d just said, perhaps even the entire conversation.

  “What’s the matter?”

  His eyes refocused on her. “Your Mr. Leukos. I think I just figured out how to fund an expedition vessel.”

  Her breath caught. “I’d prefer not to be in debt to Leukos Industries. I thought we already had this discussion.”

  “But we’re not going to be the borrowers.” His smile widened. “We’ll introduce Mr. Leukos to the Minoans—actually, Hellas Nautikos. It’s financial matchmaking, just like Carmen describes.”

  She nodded grudgingly. As long as I don’t have to talk to Brandon.

  CHAPTER 12

  Today, the testimony covered what happened on the Pilgrimage when Abram Rouxe boarded. Tomorrow, they’ll take the “unclassified part” of Ariane Kedros’s testimony. Kedros is listed as a key witness for the prosecution. . . .

  —Dr. Net-head Stavros, 2106.055.15.32 UT, indexed by Heraclitus 11 under Conflict Imperative

  The next day Ariane was to testify before the ICT. After she and Matt returned to the station, she made sure she got eight hours sleep in her quarters on the Aether’s Touch.

  Giving virtual testimony meant more than slapping on v-play equipment. She had to use verified equipment over a verified channel, under monitored conditions, meaning a representative of the court was physically present. On Beta Priamos, that representative was Ensign Walker, and she had to give her testimony in the security offices.

  “Good morning, Ms. Kedros,” Walker said brightly.

  “Humph.” She didn’t want to be here, and perky young officers of the Terran Space League only made her mood darker.

  “We’ve got everything set up for your session.” Walker led her through workstation cubicles to a small room. Inside were two comfortable chairs with one set of v-play equipment. He added, “I have to stay here to verify you’re the one using the equipment, you don’t spoof the signal, et cetera.”

  “Like I’d try that,” she muttered. The ensign’s polite smile faded. “Sorry, I’m not looking forward to this.”

  “Well, today should be the easier of your two sessions.” Walker pulled a slate from his pocket and consulted it. “I have to remind you that your testimony today is unclassified. If you feel your answer will involve information sensitive to the Consortium of Autonomous Worlds, it can be addressed in your second session, which occurs in three days.”

  “What if my testimony involves sensitive League information?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Well.” He floundered, then realized what she was doing. “Funny—ha, ha. You’re not responsible for protecting our classified material.”

  No, that would have been Tahir’s problem; an internal observation that was sobering as well as illuminating. She thoughtfully pulled on the long v-play gloves and the light visor, which plugged into her implant connector at the base of her neck. This interfaced only with her implanted mike and ear bug, because the Consortium had banned direct neural interfaces a long time ago.

  There appeared to be no more v-play equipment other than her chair. Walker tapped his slate to bring up flat view ports, which he would use. She turned on her v-play equipment and looked down, seeing her simulated body. Symbols lit in the air before her, and she moved to tap them so she could log into the virtual session.

  She heard Walker verify her status, and suddenly she was sitting in the witness stand in the amphitheater of the Pilgrimage III, if she could believe her eyes. She could put out her hand and “touch” the edge of the witness box around her chair, although if she tried to rest her hand on the box, the illusion from the gloves would be lost.

  She looked to her right and scanned the audience. She didn’t see a single AFCAW uniform, which told her how severe the ship’s audit must be. Below her sat Rand and the other defendants, their faces tilted up to watch her three dimensional image, holding expressions ranging from disdain to hatred. Higher, to her left, sat the Interstellar Criminal Tribunal.

  “Do you, Ariane Sophia Kedros, swear to . . .” The court officer read some sort of mealy-mouthed oath to encourage truthfulness, weakened because it couldn’t break her current military oath to her government. She listened carefully and then swore to abide by it.

  The questions the prosecution asked her were predictable. She related how the isolationists had taken over the facilities on Priamos and imprisoned the staff. The prosecution asked her to describe the execution of Colonel Dokos, and to spare no details. She didn’t, and her voice was unsteady by the time she finished. The prosecution paused and asked that a timestamp reference be inserted into the record. They could refer to this later, during the classified testimony.

  “Ms. Kedros, you were taken aboard the Candor Chasma by Dr. Rouxe, Emery Douchet, and Julian Nikolov?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell us what happened on that ship, but please avoid the subject of Dr. Rouxe’s project.”

  That was the hint that she wasn’t supposed to say why they took the ship near the sun, to avoid explaining how a stolen TD weapon could be armed and detonated. The Feed correspondents looked bored, but then, this line of questioning wasn’t any more obscure than the celebrity trials they covered.

  She kept the events as factual and dry as she could. Julian did the piloting and eventually his attention wandered. When she attacked him, Tahir stunned Emery. Then she left out a few details and said that Tahir wanted to leave the solar system (which was true). However, they were too far from the buoy to get a lock signal, so the ship would be lost in N-space (true again, but she glossed over the fact that Tahir had armed the weapon, still intending to turn tail and save himself). She had then knocked out Tahir and ejected the both of them in an emergency evacuation module, just before the ship entered N-space (taking the afore-unmentioned armed TD weapon with it). Without mentioning the weapon, how could any of this make sense?

  “Thank you, Ms. Kedros.”

  “Does defense wish to cross-examine the witness?” asked the court official, who was from Pilgrimage headquarters and not a voting member of the Tribunal.

  “We do.” The Terran defense counselor looked down at his slate while the Pilgrimage defense counselor whispered in his ear. The isolationists had insisted that everyone representing them be male. The Terran attorney stood and as he did, he shot State Prince Duval a resigned look, as if to say, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  Ariane’s heart sank.

  “Ms. Kedros? Who programmed the N- space drop?” The Terran stood in fr
ont of her, wearing what must be common conservative court clothes, made of grayish brown material. The suit was unadorned and boring, from an Autonomist fashion perspective. Net-think had probably singled him out immediately for ridicule.

  “I did,” she replied. “But I could only do so with the referential engine’s license crystal, which Dr. Rouxe had stolen. Abram had wanted the ship incapable of entering N-space.”

  “So you did this at Dr. Rouxe’s request?”

  “Yes, sir, but I’ll have to elaborate on this during classified testimony.”

  “Noted. Timestamp reference inserted,” the court official intoned.

  “So you had the flexibility to program more time before the drop. Isn’t it true that you could have saved more crew members, more than just yourself and Dr. Rouxe?”

  “No, sir.” Her voice became tense. “My time was limited.”

  “How?”

  “I can’t go into that until the classified session.” She had to time the drop so the detonating weapon could be overtaken by the ship and, she hoped, sucked into N-space.

  The court official came to her rescue. “Defense counsel is cautioned to stay within classification guidance. Please hold this line of questions for the classified testimony.”

  “Certainly, Your Honor.” The Terran lawyer stilled, in an unearthly manner, for less than a second. Then his eyes flickered and he became natural again.

  She chided herself silently for not recognizing the counselor had somaural training. What better skills could a trial lawyer have? That look he exchanged with SP Duval was for her benefit.

  “Ms. Kedros, you say you only had time to save one man. Please tell the court why you chose to rescue Dr. Rouxe.”

  “He defied his orders and helped me by stunning Emery. He also seemed less violent than the other two. I thought he’d be the best witness to his father’s actions.” Tahir had also masterminded the theft of the TD weapon, but she couldn’t go into that.