gaian consortium 03 - the gaia gambit (16 page)

And neither would he, if this venture stretched out too long. He’d been granted a leave, true, but the chronometer was ticking down even now. Besides, if they had irrefutable evidence the admiral was dirty, discrediting the man wouldn’t make Rast much of a hero on his home world. Not that he cared about that. He cared about getting at the truth, no matter the cost.

“Well, then,” Rast said, and stood, glad to be out of that rickety little chair. He didn’t care what Miala might have said regarding its sturdiness; it felt to him as if it was about to collapse at any moment. “Guess I’d better go check on my ship.”

Thorn’s expression was unreadable. “You do that.”

It felt good to get out again, actually, to feel the cool air on his face. Such delicious-tasting air didn’t exist on his home world, dry and dusty place that it was. Perhaps long ago Stacia had been like this, green and cool and welcoming, but no more. Glancing around at the cloud-topped hills to all sides, he thought there were worse places he and Lira could have been forced to stay.

The
Chinook
was fine, of course, silvery hull gleaming almost a pale blue as it reflected the cerulean skies overhead. Still, Rast made his customary inspection of its exterior, walking all the way around, looking for any pits from meteorites or other bits of cosmic dust that might have taken their toll. As he came back around to the gangplank, he heard a boy’s voice.

“Is this your ship?”

“It is.” It seemed simpler to reply that way, even though technically the ship belonged to Gared Tomas. Possession trumped law, anyway…and who was to say Tomas himself hadn’t stolen the Sirocco-class vessel?

The boy came into view then, a tall lad of probably ten standard or so, although Rast was not completely familiar with human growth stages. His dark hair and eyes and olive skin, as well as the firm chin and straight, rather broad nose, marked him as Eryk Thorn’s blood. Interesting. So was the boy Thorn’s from an earlier liaison, or was Miala his mother as well? The child didn’t look much like her.

He paused, staring up at Rast. “You’re a Stacian.”

“Yes.” Since the boy’s gaze hadn’t wavered, was still fixed on Rast’s face, he asked, “Have you ever seen a Stacian before?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jerem answered. “I was kidnapped by one.”

“You — what?”

The boy actually grinned. “Yeah, he wanted my mother to give him the money, since he thought he had a right to it since it was in his brother’s compound or something, only it really wasn’t, because my mom had taken it years before. Anyway, he wanted to ransom me for it, except not really, because he planned to kill me anyway once he had the money, but the joke was on him because he didn’t know who my father was, and he came along and killed him. So it was okay.” Finally a pause for breath, and then, “So anyway, that’s how I’ve already seen a Stacian.”

Rast tried to find something in this narrative he could latch onto, failed, and instead inquired, “What’s your name?”

“Jerem. Jerem Thorn. For a long time I thought it was Jerem Felaris, but it turns out that wasn’t really my name…or hers.”

“Hello, Jerem. I’m Rast sen Drenthan…but you can just call me Rast.”

Jerem squinted up at him. “I guess it’s okay for you to be here, or my father would have already done something about it, wouldn’t he?”

Of that Rast had no doubt. “It’s fine. Your mother is helping my — Lira Jannholm, my traveling companion.”

“Oh. That makes sense. She’s good with computers. You’re getting something done with a computer?”

“Something like that, yes.”

The boy seemed to consider Rast for a moment, staring up at him with wide brown eyes. “You don’t seem to mind.”

“Mind what?”

“That my dad killed a Stacian.”

I have a feeling your father has killed a whole lot of people, kid
. Of course Rast made no such remark out loud, but said only, “It sounds as if that particular Stacian was a criminal. So I don’t mind. I believe your father probably did the galaxy a favor by taking someone like that out of commission.”

Jerem nodded solemnly, seeming to take Rast’s words to heart. “That’s good.” He paused, then added, “You don’t seem like him at all — the dead Stacian, I mean. You seem pretty nice.”

“Well, thank you, Jerem,” Rast replied, trying to keep the amusement he felt from seeping into his tone. He didn’t want the boy to think he was being condescending toward him. Children that age were sensitive creatures, whether human or Stacian.

“I’ve never seen a ship like this,” the boy continued, moving toward the
Chinook
and staring up at her sleek outlines with some envy. “What is it?”

“It’s a Sirocco-class private transport, very new. Only a handful have been built so far. It’s the smallest ship to have a Gupta drive.”

“It’s got a Gupta drive? Seriously? How fast is it?”

Jerem continued to pepper Rast with questions, asking enough that he could tell the boy had a working knowledge of ships and their various functions. Perhaps Thorn had even begun teaching his son how to pilot the old Vector-class ship that sat only a few meters away from the
Chinook
.

“Are you going to take her up soon?” Jerem’s eyes were shining, and Rast had the feeling the kid would probably try to wrangle a ride if that were the case.

“I doubt it. We need to lie low while we’re here. No point in attracting attention by flying around in her.”

Jerem’s face fell. “Oh.” But then he perked up again. “So are you guys on the run? Are you, like, intergalactic assassins or something cool like that?”

Somehow Rast managed to keep from grinning. “No, nothing like that. I’m a captain in the Stacian navy, and Ms. Jannholm is — well, until recently she had her own starship in the GDF. We’re both honest, upstanding citizens.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Even as the words left his mouth, Jerem seemed to realize his mistake. He rushed to add, “I mean, it’s probably good that you’re not assassins, I suppose, but it would have been cool. Nothing ever happens around here.”

You say that like it’s a bad thing.
“Sometimes it’s all right for things not to happen, you know.”

“I guess.”

Looking at the boy’s crestfallen face, Rast could only hope he might be blessed with Jerem’s version of boredom for a few days. Some peace and quiet would be nice for once.

“All right,” Miala said, after she’d sat down in front of her keyboard and indicated that Lira should take the other unoccupied seat in the cramped space that served as her office, “let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

And she began typing away, her fingernails making a slight clatter on the touch pad of her keyboard, as the screens around her began to flash with strings of numbers and pieces of code that Lira knew she wouldn’t be able to decipher, no matter how long she stared at them. Instead she looked away to inspect the workspace, which looked as if it might have been a spare bedroom at one time. Now it was filled with desks, and all of those desks were occupied by flat screens and head’s-up displays, although she didn’t have any of Jackson Wyler’s pricey 3D generators.

And she was pretty sure Jackson Wyler didn’t have miniature holo-portraits of his children stuck next to said displays. Roughly half those portraits showed a dark-haired boy of about ten who had to have been Eryk Thorn’s son, even though Lira hadn’t actually seen the boy yet.

“Well, this is something,” Miala said, and Lira startled a little.

“What’s something?”

“Jackson was right. This thing is a beast.”

“So you can’t do anything with it?”

Miala sent her an amused glance. “I said it was a beast. I didn’t say I couldn’t break it. The problem with Jackson is that he lets himself get flummoxed too quickly. I may have to round my estimate up by a couple of days, but I’ll unwind it eventually.”

It was probably too soon to feel so relieved, but Lira did allow herself to let out a small, thankful breath. So the situation wasn’t completely hopeless after all.

“The weird thing is,” Miala continued, “there’s only one person I know of who could even begin to write code like this.”

“I would think that would make it easier. That is, if you know who wrote it, then you’d also know where it came from.”

“True,” Miala admitted, continuing to type away. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out why a Stacian admiral would have an Eridani hacker covering his tracks.”

After reiterating that he wouldn’t be flying the
Chinook
any time soon — and also pointing out that it was Lira who would be doing the actual flying — Rast followed Jerem into the house, where both Eryk Thorn and the baby had disappeared. Maybe she had settled down enough that she’d be able to sleep for a while.

“Are you going to be eating dinner with us?” Jerem asked, after pouring himself a glass of water and then belatedly asking Rast if he wanted one, too.

“I don’t know. I somewhat doubt it. That’s really impinging on your parents’ hospitality, especially since they’d never even met us before today.”

The boy looked disappointed, and Rast supposed he couldn’t really blame him. They were so isolated out here, and he probably went weeks or even months without seeing anybody except his parents…and a six-month-old baby wasn’t exactly a very good companion.

Rast heard footsteps on the stairs, and Lira came into the kitchen a minute later, her face a study in worry and confusion. She hesitated a moment when she spied Jerem, but then smiled a little and said, “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Lira Jannholm.”

“I know,” the boy said. “I mean, who else could you be? Rast was already telling me about you and your ship.”

“Oh, he was?”

“I was saying how you were the real pilot, and how I sort of doubted we’d be flying the
Chinook
until it was time to leave.”

“Well, of course not,” she remarked, as if that should be obvious.

“Jerem was also wondering if we’d be staying to dinner, and I said I thought not. We have plenty of rations in the
Chinook
, don’t we?”

“Yes, of course. Tomas made sure the ship was always well-stocked.”

“Best freeze-dried rations money can buy, I’ll bet,” said Eryk Thorn as he entered the kitchen, sans baby. “We have plenty. You can take some over to your ship.”

“That’s very generous,” Rast said, noting that the invitation was only to share the food, and not actually to sit down to dinner with the family. Not that he could really blame the man; if he’d been in Thorn’s position, he doubted he’d be inviting a couple of strangers, one of them from a hostile alien race, to break bread with his family.

“But Dad — ”

“Don’t ‘but Dad’ me. Put together a couple of packets for our visitors.”

As the boy did as his father ordered, reluctance obvious in his dragging footsteps, Thorn directed his next words to Lira. “Working, is she?”

“Yes. She said it’s tough but that she thinks she can do it. Could be four or five days, though.”

If Thorn was disturbed by the thought of the two interlopers parking themselves on his property for the greater part of a standard week, he didn’t show it. He only nodded, then said, “I’ll take a tray up to her later. When she gets like this, I know better than to ask her to drop everything and come down. Best you eat that before it gets cold.”

It was a clear dismissal, and Rast took it as such. He shot Jerem a quick grin, to show he wasn’t put off by Eryk Thorn’s brusque tone, took the packets of food from the boy, and made the smallest of nods toward the back door. Luckily Lira took the hint, thanking Thorn for the food before she followed Rast out to the ship.

They went inside, and she paused to close the door behind them and lock it. She waited until he had set the food down on the low table in front of one of the couches before asking in acid tones, “You think that’s poisoned?”

Since he knew she was joking…or at least he hoped she was…he replied with a grin, “I think we’re safe. I have a feeling Miala Thorn might be a trifle irritated if her husband knocked off a couple of guests that way. Besides, I doubt poison is really his style. He seems to be more of a ‘shoot you between the eyes’ sort of person. Or maybe the back of the head, if that’s more convenient.”

She gave an unwilling laugh. “You’re probably right. So what did they send over?”

“You’d probably have a better idea of that than I would. I don’t know much about Gaian cuisine.”

“Neither do I. Everything on Ganymede was grown hydroponically or so processed you really couldn’t tell what it started out as.” Even so, she opened one of the packets, sniffed, and tilted her head to one side, considering. “I think there might be actual meat in there. Not sure what, though. It smells good.”

It did smell good, a savory aroma that sent his stomach juices turning. The second packet held some creamy-looking white stuff that Lira said was mashed potatoes…whatever those were.

“And since Tomas kept everything on this ship well-stocked, we can eat like civilized people. Well, mostly,” she added, after casting a critical eye on the table where their food rested. “That table’s a little low, even for me. But I suppose you’ll make do.”

“Oh, I will.” He watched as she fetched plates and cutlery from a low cabinet on the far side of the passenger compartment, and cheered up even more when she produced two glasses and a bottle of dark-hued wine on her second trip to the cabinet. “Tomas didn’t hide much from you, did he?”

Abruptly, her expression darkened. “Oh, he hid plenty. But since he expected me to be his flight attendant in addition to his pilot, I do know where he kept all his dining necessities.” She pushed the tab on the cork so it would self-extricate, then poured a measure of wine into each glass. “Dinner is served, I guess.”

It was a little awkward to sit on the couch and lean over the table to eat, but the food itself was delicious, if unfamiliar, and the wine smooth and dark and heavy, a good complement to the rich gravy that covered the meat. Since there was no place else for her to sit down, Lira perched on the edge of the couch next to him, distinctly uncomfortable with their proximity.

Rast could not say the same for himself. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her leg next to his, smell the sweet scent of her hair as she leaned over to pick up her glass of wine.