“And you? No problems with your bioscavs?” She craned her head sideways, studying me as we walked, as if she could tell by looking if the tiny machines in my body were causing any problems. Who knew, maybe she could.
I chuckled. “Not that I can tell. I still run on the treadmill when the vastness of space gets boring, and I don’t seem to suffer any ill effects.”
“Good.” She nodded in satisfaction.
“So, you went to see Schulyer Group? Did you visit their labs? Examine their research?”
After many years and ongoing research by more than one corporation and lab, it seemed that another anti-aging breakthrough might be on the horizon. Mother’s research, carried out by her team at PrimeCorp three-quarters of a century ago, was to date the only successful method for halting the aging process—and because of ethical concerns, she’d fought to keep the technology out of the hands of anyone at all in that time. It lived in a handful of us, and that was all. Thirty years ago, Nicadico Corporation had released a treatment they called Longate, but it had been an unmitigated disaster. After several courses of treatment, patients invariably succumbed to cascading organ failure, and the subsequent investigation unearthed any number of bribes, deceptions, and deficiencies in the testing protocols. No one had tried again until PrimeCorp launched its Vigor-Us treatment ten years after that, but that wasn’t true anti-aging, just a rejuvenation process that could effect some health and appearance benefits.
Then Schulyer Group had approached Mother, with the revelation that they had arrived at a new treatment—one that built on and improved Longate, fixing its myriad flaws. They wanted her to vet their research and make sure it was sound before they proceeded to human trials.
And so poor Mother found herself faced with the same ethical dilemma she’d battled for decades now. Could one corporation be trusted to fairly administer the secret of immortality for all, and were we, as a species, even ready for that knowledge? She’d known PrimeCorp couldn’t be trusted and had sacrificed a normal life and family to keep the research out of their hands. But somehow Luta had convinced her that she no longer needed to be the guardian of the fate of humankind; that by keeping the research to herself, she’d effectively placed herself in the same position she didn’t want PrimeCorp to occupy. And so she’d decided to release her own research data to the public and let PrimeCorp come after her through the legal system if they wished. As far as I knew, they hadn’t made a move to do so yet.
Luckily for her, PrimeCorp was going to be a little busy in the next while. She might not have anything to worry about.
She pulled a deep breath and let it out. “It’s . . . promising,” she said, bringing me back to the present. “I think I can offer some suggestions, but their data looks good. I brought back a bag full of encrypted datachips to read and study, and then we’ll schedule another meeting.”
We turned a corner and the dining room came into view. Chairman Gusain Buig stood near a fireplace, head bent to read something on the datapad he held. He turned when we entered the room and flashed a warm smile, then set the datapad on the mantel. He clasped his hands together and set them over his heart, then bent forward in two quick bows, the standard Kiandon greeting. Buig stood an easy six feet tall, and had dressed as casually as Mother had this evening, in a cozy-looking pullover the same icy-blue as his eyes, and black denim jeans. His greying hair betrayed him as no longer exactly young, but his face was warm and his smile genuine as he extended a hand toward a tray waiting on the sideboard. I wondered for the first time if Mother had dosed him with nanobioscavengers yet, and immediately assumed she had.
“You’ll have some jarlees wine before supper?” he asked, although it wasn’t really a question. Few humans or Lobors turned down an offer of the delicacy, although it had never really taken off with Vilisians.
“And with supper as well, if I’m lucky,” I said with a smile. I was glad I’d opted to change out of my Protectorate uniform and into something more casual before leaving the Cheswick.
Although I’d been here only a few weeks ago, we managed to fill the time before dinner and over the meal with catching up on personal news and discussing the latest developments in Nearspace. It turned out that Gusain and Mother knew more than I’d expected about the information Luta had brought back with her from what we’d all started informally calling “Otherspace.” It made sense; Gusain was, after all, the top executive of Duntmindi, and Duntmindi had three ambassadors on the Nearspace Worlds Administrative Council, one for each of the planets the corporation controlled. It just hadn’t occurred to me that the ambassadors would report so fully to the corporation’s Chairman.
“I can’t say I feel any sympathy for PrimeCorp, or for Alin Sedmamin,” Buig said as we sipped spicy chai over rich, whipped-cream topped apple-jarlees pastries. “I find it hard to believe even they would consort with Chron, but the evidence seems irrefutable.”
“PrimeCorp isn’t ready to admit to that.”
He nodded. “I’ve heard they’re denying all involvement. Explaining away the ships as no longer associated with them, the logos on the attackers being an attempt at a set-up . . .”
I tilted my head at him and shrugged. He was right; that was exactly what they were saying. “Do you believe any of that?”
He flashed a humourless grin. “Not for a second. But I wish I could. I don’t like the alternative. That they could be collaborating with known enemies of Nearspace.”
“They’re slowing the investigation,” I said. “If there’s a possibility that those Chron are heading for Nearspace, we need to know everything we can about them as soon as possible.”
Mother tapped her fork absently on the rim of her plate, gazing into the distance. “What I don’t understand,” she said pensively, “is, if the Chron really are planning a renewed assault on Nearspace, why would PrimeCorp be involved? The corporation’s interests are tied to a healthy and prosperous business environment all through Nearspace. Wouldn’t war adversely affect that?”
Buig sipped coffee. “Maybe. But if you read Earth history, there were times when a war actually boosted an economy. Not that the cost in lives could provide justification for starting or prolonging a war, but economies often came out improved overall.”
“I can’t believe even PrimeCorp could sink that low,” Mother said, shaking her head. “And I could believe almost anything about them.”
I ate the last bite of the delicious pastry and chased it with a sip of chai. Possibly the best I’d ever had. I’d ask Gusain later where he got it. Yuskeya Blue loved chai, and I’d pass the name along to her. “Well, that’s one of the reasons I’m here,” I said. “See if you can believe this.” As briefly as I could—although it wasn’t a simple situation—I relayed what Harle Southwind had told me about the movements of PrimeCorp executives and the possibility that PrimeCorp was eyeing a Nearspace political coup.
By the time I’d finished, both Gusain and Mother had leaned forward in their chairs. Gusain frowned. “I wonder if we’ve hired anyone ex-PrimeCorp lately,” he said speculatively. “I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t necessarily know about every hire.”
I shrugged. “You might want to check into that, but you didn’t hear any of this from me.”
“This sounds like exactly the kind of thing PrimeCorp would do,” Mother said, “but I’m not sure how it ties into working with the Chron.” She rested her chin on her hands, eyes fixed on the remains of our dinner but not, I expected, really seeing it. Her lips compressed into a thin line, relaxed, compressed again. “Collaborating with the Chron to attack Nearspace, in an elaborate scheme to usurp the political power here? That’s monstrous. Even for PrimeCorp, that’s monstrous.”
I spread my hands. “We don’t know that’s what’s happening. And I don’t know how PrimeCorp could extricate itself from a Chron alliance later—or why they think they could trust the aliens. But we see it as a possibility.”
Mother stood and moved to stand behind Gusain’s chair, se
ttling her hands lightly on his shoulders as if seeking comfort from the contact. “All right. What can we do about it?”
That “we” made me chuckle. “I’m not sure ‘we’ are going to do much, but I came here to ask you a question,” I said. “We need information more than anything else. I wondered if you might still have any contacts, anyone at all, inside the workings anywhere at PrimeCorp. I know you got your research connections out when we took PrimeCorp to court on Vele, but is there anyone else?”
She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side, considering. “Someone who could act as a spy?”
I grimaced. “I hesitate to use that particular word, even in this most confidential company,” I said. “But someone who might have the ability and the willingness to collect information PrimeCorp is trying to block us from, yes.”
She clasped her hands behind her back and paced away from us. The dining table would seat twenty guests easily, but we’d clustered at one end of the gleaming expanse of polished dark wood. She walked the length of it, then turned and came back. When she reached her chair, she stopped. “I still have a few contacts,” she said cautiously. “But I’m not sure any of them would be willing or able to do this. I’d have to know more about the kind of access you’d need. Even then, I might not know them well enough to ask them to take the risk.”
I rubbed the back of my neck and nodded. “It is a lot to ask, and not worth it if you weren’t sure they could get access.” I reached into my pocket for a datachip case and selected the one Harle had given me. “Go over this when you have time,” I said. “There are more details about the executives and divisions involved.”
Mother held out her hand and I dropped the chip into it. I felt my shoulders start to droop and pulled them back with an effort. I didn’t want Mother to feel bad about this. “It’s all right if you can’t help. You were just one of the names on my list. We’ll find another way.”
She smiled and pocketed the chip. “I’ll take a look and get back to you about it as soon as I can.”
“I hear rumblings that Alin Sedmamin might be out of a job soon,” Gusain Buig said with a wry smile. “Maybe he’ll be willing to go rogue and help you out.”
“Really? I figured he’d be throwing some other poor sucker to the wolves. That seems to be his style.”
Gusain shrugged. “Maybe the Board has finally decided he’s more of a liability than an asset. Or maybe he wouldn’t get on board with the plan you’ve suggested.”
“I’d be surprised if anything was too dark for his scruples,” I said, draining what was left of my chai. It had gone dead cold, but it wasn’t unpleasant even that way. “And even if it were an issue for him, I’d expect to see him wind up dead, not simply fired. If that’s what they’re really up to, it’s far too big to risk him spilling everything at this point.”
“Well, the rumour mills grind exceedingly hard where PrimeCorp is concerned lately,” he said. “There might be nothing to it at all.”
Gusain’s datapad chimed and he retrieved it from the mantel, a frown pulling his brows together when he read the screen.
“Priority communication for you, Lanar,” he said, passing the datapad to me. “Must be pretty serious for your ship to use the inter-gov channel to reach you.”
“I let the pilot leave the ship’s boat and go into town,” I said, taking the device. “He probably shut down the onboard orbital relay.”
I keyed in my passcode and the message appeared on the screen.
Received: from [205485.62.08] Nearspace Protectorate Authority FarView Stn Admin
STATIC ELECTRONIC MESSAGE: 26.2
Encryption: securetext/novis/noaud/npalock/CONFIDENTIAL
Receipt notification: enabled
CONFIRMATION REQUIRED
From: “Fleet Admiral Regina Holles”
To: “Admiral Lanar Mahane”
Date: Wed, 20 Feb 2285 12:30:01 -0400
Lanar
Corvid station attacked while Luta and envoys docked. Ambassador Andresson, LC Jolah Didkovsky, LC Emar Summergale, and Cmdr Yuskeya Blue stranded. Others returned okay. Return to FarView stat.
Regina
I felt a hot, prickling feeling creep up the backs of my arms, and my stomach went suddenly leaden—nothing to do with the dinner we’d eaten.
“Lanar? What’s wrong?”
My shock must have shown on my face. “Trouble, naturally,” I said, quickly closing the message and handing the datapad back to Gusain. I stood too quickly, tipping my chair, and had to catch the back of it to keep it from falling. “Occupational hazard, I’m afraid. Recalled in the middle of fun.”
“What kind of trouble?” Mother was not buying my attempts to keep it light. She came around the table and put a hand on my arm. In the mirror set into the wall above the fireplace, I could see both mine and Mother’s reflections, and we looked more like siblings than mother and son. But she wasn’t my sister; Luta was. And I’d sent her into danger.
“I’m not entirely sure yet,” I told her, and squeezed her hand. “They’ll fill me in when I get there.”
I thumbed my implant and called the sergeant. “Hope you’re finished your supper,” I said. “We have to return to the ship immediately. Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you.”
I heard his muffled voice talking to someone in the background, and then he rattled off a street address.
“There aren’t many places downtown where you’ll fit that vessel,” Gusain said. “Let me send a driver for him, and you wait here.”
That made more sense, but I knew I couldn’t stay with Mother to wait. She’d badger me until I’d told her every detail, and I’d end up revealing how I’d unwittingly sent Luta into danger.
“Thanks, Gusain. I’ll head to the landing pad and get all the prelims out of the way so we can take off as soon as he gets here.” He nodded and hurried out of the room.
Without waiting for her to argue with me, I pulled Mother into a quick hug. “Thanks for dinner,” I said, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
She grasped my arms firmly as I tried to disengage. “You’re not telling me everything, but okej,” she said. Her eyes were darkly serious. “I’ll think about what you asked, and go over the data. Maybe there’s someone who could help . . . I’ll just have to give it some thought.”
I nodded. “We’ll talk soon, I promise.”
“And I’ll find out what you’re trying to hide,” she said, one side of her mouth twisting into a half-smile. “I promise.”
“Love you,” I said, and fled to my ship.
THE TRAVEL TIME between Kiando and FarView was a full twenty-three hours at normal speeds. I had Linna Drake run the burst drive at full capacity, and that shaved a few hours off the time. When we arrived at FarView, Regina met me herself at the airlock when the Cheswick docked. “Luta and the others are fine,” she reiterated as soon as she saw me. Maybe something in my face made her think she had to remind me.
“What happened?” I asked, as we strode toward her office. “Luta wouldn’t willingly leave anyone behind, especially not Yuskeya. I sometimes wonder if I’ll be able to convince her to let Yuskeya leave the Tane Ikai at all.”
Regina puffed, almost jogging to keep up with me. I hadn’t realized how I was barrelling along the corridor and slowed my steps for her. Not only were her legs shorter, but she was effectively a lot older than I was. Not that she’d ever, in a million years, ask me to slow down for her.
“She didn’t have a choice. The Corvids had to release the ships from the station in order to protect themselves, and Yuskeya had gone into the station to find Andresson and the others. Then the Chron ships went after them, too, and they barely managed to get through the wormhole. The Tane Ikai took some damage—not much, nothing too serious—but enough that it wasn’t safe for them to stay in the system. They’re back here now and yes, we’ll foot the bill for all repairs.”
“But Yusk
eya and the others were fine when Luta had to leave?”
She didn’t answer right away, and I stopped walking. “Regina?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. They don’t know. The Corvids said they’d take care of them, but there was no actual word from them direct to Luta.” She put a hand on my arm. “Lanar, I’m sending you to get them. I know you’d probably insist on it, so let’s just skip that step, okej?”
Regina smiled tentatively at me and I blew out a deep breath. I was angry, but not at her, and I had to remind myself of that. “Okej. So Luta’s here?”
“Yes. Go find her, get her to tell you what happened. The envoys are putting their reports together—what they can, although they’re distraught—so you’ll have all that information to take with you. I know you haven’t met the Corvids before, but I trust you in that department. You’re the best one to go.” She smiled. “And I know you want to.”
“Regina, you’re the best.” I stooped impulsively and kissed her cheek.
She flushed and pretended to brush dust off her jacket. “That is the most disrespectful behaviour—” she blustered. “What if Antar Mauronet had seen that, now? Really, Lanar, sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.” But a smile lurked at the corners of her lips. A little out of sync with the hint of wistfulness in her eyes, and it was my turn to flush.
“You ship out the day after tomorrow,” she said, her voice all business again.
“We should probably go—”
She cut me off with a raised palm. “Not until weapons and engineering have a full maintenance cycle. I’m not sending you out unprepared. And you need time to talk to Luta.”
I might have argued further, but a look at her face told me there’d be no point and I bit down my reply.
We continued down the corridor in silence and rounded the corner to enter the Protectorate’s administrative space. Antar Mauronet waited in the hallway outside Regina’s office. His jaw still bore the mottled blue and yellow bruise I’d left there, but he made no attempt to cover it up. He stood half-blocking the door, as if determined to speak with Regina whether she wanted to or not. He almost smirked when he saw us together, obviously thought better of it, and addressed himself to Regina.
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