Originator (22 page)

The GI pressed his lips together, appearing to think about something. It was the kind of subconscious facial gesture only high-des GIs did. It suggested depth. “President Balasingham was killed on Cresta. Ex-President Balasingham. Now there was a guy with Talee connections. He was former ISO, you know.”

“I know.”

“Was President for eight years, two terms during the war. His ISO background made him a good choice for the war effort. ISO helped.”

Raylee nodded. She'd heard some of this too. Hearing it from a top ISO operative, however, gave it a whole different kind of gravity.

“His whole power base was there,” the GI continued. “Quite a few former ISO on Cresta. It was a bit of a hub for retired Intel. Not all of those guys like beaches and mountains, some prefer full enviro-habitats and low gravity. Go figure.

“No real reason for PRIDE to want him dead. And President Balasingham was the only high-value target on Cresta.”

“Sure, but Cresta was a symbol of League government power,” Raylee disagreed, trying to sound like she knew more about it than she did. “Lots of big former government retirees, some think tanks, research institutions. PRIDE are separatists, Cresta was an available target.”

“Wasn't,” the GI disagreed. “Very well defended. Someone tipped the attackers. We think it was FedInt.”

Oh fuck. Raylee closed her eyes. She'd been used as a conduit for awful, world-shaking secrets before, and it had cost her her arm, parts of her face, and nearly her life. Now it was happening again. She wanted to order him from her apartment and find some way to have her memory erased.

“Great,” she murmured instead. And looked down at her drink. “Just great. Why?”

“We're not sure. But FedInt is made up of old Federal Intelligence. They have a long history with President Balasingham and that crew, right across thirty years of war. We think they're hiding something, something President Balasingham was into. Something involving the Talee.”

PRIDE never claimed responsibility, Raylee recalled. Never denied it either, but it wasn't typical behaviour for genocidal fanatics. “So FedInt are using League's problems as a
cover
? Kill Cresta and blame it on PRIDE?”

“Oh, PRIDE might have done it,” said the GI. “But it wasn't possible without FedInt help. FedInt have sources in League security. We think they found out Cresta's defences and leaked it to PRIDE. Or did it themselves.”

“So why are PRIDE here? Talking to Pyeongwha terrorists?”

“Hell,” said the GI. “They don't pay me that much.”

Ari blinked hard against the blurred vision of G-stress and tried to flex. It was hard to breathe, and he tried to remember the training—short breath, hold, short breath, hold, tense the diaphragm. Prolonged Gs were now causing vision flashes, something about the compression of the optic nerve about the augmentation nodes. Spacers got different kinds to guard against exactly that, but they weren't as effective . . . and how likely was he, a groundie who hated spaceflight, likely to be this frequently in space anyway?

He glanced sideways at Captain Reichardt, similarly reclined in his acceleration couch. Reichardt seemed to be sleeping, though more likely he was uplinked and processing. Vanessa, typically restless, was raising arm and leg against the Gs, considering how it felt. Director Boyle looked uncomfortable, but he had wisely had several shots from a strong-smelling flask before launch and looked to be managing. Farthest down the command hold, the two GIs, Poole and Tuli, were completely unbothered.

“That transfer shuttle just docked,” Reichardt announced above the dull roar of thrusters. Despite the consistent 2.8 Gs, his voice barely sounded strained.

“Yeah, their manifest is a mess,” Vanessa replied, uplinked and checking that. “No way it's legal.”

“You can file against them if you want?”

Vanessa made a face. “Bit petty at this point.”

The shuttle had come from Nehru Station, the main civvie station, to Hanuman Station, the main Fleet station. It was under FedInt jurisdiction, and thanks to the manifest screw-up, they had no idea who or how many were aboard. Renaldo Takewashi's ship was about to dock at Hanuman, and now FedInt were pouring faceless operatives onto station. Thus this rapid launch
from Tanusha, at speeds that were only legal under emergency conditions, now requiring a full deceleration on approach to dock.

“Who has your confidence, on station?” Vanessa asked Reichardt.

“Next question,” said Reichardt. Vanessa gave him a long look, an arm in the air, flexing her right hand against the Gs.
Pearl
was docked at the station, with its full complement of marines—a First Fleet carrier, so far noncommittal on most of Callay's recent politics.
Mekong
, Reichardt's ride, was accompanying Takewashi's vessel into station . . . but that meant its marine complement was off-station. “Got a final number on FedInt operatives on station?”

“Pick a number between ten and twenty,” said Vanessa. “They've been Fleet infiltrating like crazy, it's not FSA HQ jurisdiction, nothing we could do.”

“And Ibrahim says we can't bring Sandy,” Ari muttered. The thrust suddenly cut, and he gasped with relief. Optics showed shuttle trajectory matching station, now less than two Ks out,
way
within safe zone for approaches. No shit someone would notice that. Almost immediately the side thrust hit, shuttle reorienting a final time for hub docking.

“It was a good call,” said Vanessa. “It's too personal with her.”

“Yeah, well, I'm tired of getting shot at,” Ari retorted. “And Sandy has a deterrent effect.”

“Hey,” said Poole. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“We're here to get Takewashi before FedInt do,” Reichardt replied. “I think we can do that without shooting anyone, or having to worry about Sandy shooting Takewashi.”

That wasn't a real possibility, Ari knew. More that Sandy would set a tone and make Takewashi defensive, which could clam up whatever information they needed immediately. Or other, unforeseen possibilities. Vanessa was right, Sandy and Takewashi in the same place made complications. Takewashi was the self-pronounced father of the synthetic neurology that had created Sandy and all self-conscious GIs. Given what was now known about the true origins of GI sentience, Sandy had a real issue with Takewashi. Even more than she usually did.

“Boyle,” said Ari. “What's your prediction on FedInt? We've got a betting pool, twenty gets you in.”

“I think they're defending a special recipe for meatloaf,” said Boyle.

“Yeah, me too.” Ari glanced at Reichardt.

“This fucking war,” Reichardt said calmly, watching the shuttle's docking approach on uplink, “was fought over a series of ideological positions that all proved untenable. The thing with hypocrites is they all have secrets. FedInt's built up thirty years of secrets in the war, and now nine more after it finished. Whatever it is, it's big, and it's probably got friends.”

“If FedInt helped kill Cresta,” Poole volunteered, “seems logical that whatever they killed ex-President Balasingham to hide, Takewashi might know something about. Which might explain why he's suddenly here.”

And thus the mad rush to stop FedInt getting to him first.

They got off at Hanuman Station hub, a clash of locks and a blast of freezing air, ears popping, then down the tube to main hub, hauling at handles along the guideline in the zero-G with Reichardt in the lead, flipping salutes at spacers who saluted back harder. Vanessa set up tacnet for him as they moved, something she did far better than any spacer, and let it propagate on station networks Ari could vouch the security of.

“
LT I want you here asap
,” Reichardt told Ndaja, his marine commander, as they went. “
Damn the procedures, just blast it to the rim lock and come in armed
.”

“
Aye, Cap
,” said Ndaja.

“
Po, put the second shuttle at three-quarters off diameter, full weapons. I don't want anyone sneaking up on this sucker in dock. Hold Mekong at two point five and await further
.”

“
Aye, Cap
.” That was Po, Reichardt's second, currently acting-Captain with Reichardt off-ship. Po was new, an experienced Captain of a smaller vessel in the last few years of the war, but carriers were something else again, and no one commanded one without first holding second-chair. Ndaja had been with Reichardt for nearly twenty years, an extraordinary partnership by any measure.

They made the personnel elevator, grabbing rails without time for proper strapping as the car took them down—Ari missed his hold and would have hit the ceiling had not Reichardt snagged an arm and dragged him with the car's motion. They were all armed, Vanessa, Poole, and Tuli with short rifles; Ari, Reichardt, and Boyle with pistols . . . not that Boyle looked to have any idea what to do with it; it threatened to drift clear of his suit pocket now as his jacket floated up in the descent. No armour, that would have been a breach of protocol too far.

“Tell him to stay in his damn ship,” Reichardt said aloud as the shaft whizzed by the car windows, airless and smooth. Talking to station, Ari saw with a glance at tacnet audio, fighting disorientation as the gravity increased. “Tell him he doesn't have clearance to leave.”

“
He wants to get out
,” came station's reply. “
He's insistent
.”

“Well, his own people keep trying to blow up his ship,” Vanessa reasoned, off-line. “Figures he's safer with us.”

“
Tell him
. . .” deep breath, “. . .
tell him I can't guarantee his safety if he leaves his vessel
.” He glanced at Ari. Could a neuro-synth genius take a hint? Vanessa pulled on a cap from her thigh pocket, calculated the brim to keep the overhead lights out of her vision, then sighted the rifle against the wall, adjusting optics. All business, and preparing to shoot people, if necessary. She was as good at it these days as a lot of GIs. Ari felt his heart thump harder.

“We can't run, or we risk drawing fire,” Reichardt told her. “At a brisk walk, how long?”

“Twelve minutes,” said Vanessa, calculating on the station map. “Thirteen if Boyle finds a brisk walk too much.” Boyle was too distracted by nervous tension to reply. He was a bureaucrat, not a soldier, but he was coping so far, sweaty brow and all.

“Okay, I've got people at strongpoints on the main junctions,” Reichardt continued, making mental references on the tacnet map. An incoming audio began flashing. “It's mostly station security, didn't rate them more than a bucket of spit in the war, it's less than that now.”

“I did a two-week exercise run with them a few months ago,” Tuli volunteered, waiting patiently with weapon ready. “A bucket of spit is generous.”

“S'not their fault,” said Vanessa. “They're techs with guns. You gonna answer that?”

Reichardt answered the new audio. “Captain Reichardt.”

“
Hello, Captain, please stand by for a connection with the Grand Committee Chairman
.”

“Yeah,” said Reichardt, glancing as the elevator dial counted toward the rim, and gravity approached a full G, “could you tell the Chairman I'm a little busy . . .” Click, as the connection went through. “Great.”

“The Chairman can't make his own calls?” Vanessa wondered.

“He's a busy man,” said Reichardt, drily.

Click. “
Captain Reichardt
,” came Ranaprasana's voice, “
I'm somewhat concerned about what I see described to me as a . . . situation, aboard Hanuman Station. I have a complaint from Chief Shin of Federal Intelligence that you and FSA Command are seeking to deny him access to Mr Takewashi. Is that correct?
”

Reichardt looked at the wall as the car's motion slowed. Lips twisted as he considered. Tell Ranaprasana that they worried FedInt were going to have Takewashi killed? That FedInt were involved in an active cover-up, which, it appeared, had included assisting PRIDE to destroy an entire League moon and kill a quarter of a million people? That FSA HQ had just gone red on FedInt, effectively regarding them as an enemy entity?

“Mr Chairman, this is Special Agent Ari Ruben,” Ari cut in. “I'm with Captain Reichardt at this moment. Sir, you might recall that the FSA's final report in the aftermath of Operation Shield concluded that there were unaccountable and dangerously autonomous elements within Federal Intelligence whose actions during that crisis remain largely unilluminated. Sir, we feel that those elements may now have negative intentions toward Mr Takewashi.”

The car stopped, and the elevator doors opened. Everyone yawned to pop their ears as the pressure changed, Vanessa immediately in the doorway with rifle ready to be extended, checking quickly one way then the other.

“
Agent Ruben, it is my task to investigate all agencies involved in the Operation Shield events, including FSA HQ and the CSA
.” Vanessa indicated that they move, Tuli joining her side, Reichardt behind, then Ari and Boyle, with Poole guarding the rear. The tight metal corridors were nothing as pleasant as the civilian stations, all exposed rivets and panels, with no sign of people. “
I'm alarmed by FSA HQ's tendency to accuse other agencies of improper conduct, and then to declare jurisdiction and run by decree. Federal institutions and agencies should work collegiately together on these matters. I would like to see FSA and FedInt working together on this Takewashi matter, with equal access to all. Failure to do so could see FSA receiving unfavourable mentions in my final report
.”

“Understood, Chairman Ranaprasana,” Reichardt said sweetly, striding on long legs after Tuli and Vanessa. “We will endeavour to cooperate with your wishes in entirety.”

And disconnected before the Chairman could try again.