Pathfinder

Table of Contents

 

 

“[An] intriguing ensemble cast . . . [a] nicely complex universe . . . in this entertaining second military SF adventure for Ariane Kedros, a secret agent of the Consortium of Autonomous Worlds. . . . Reeve immediately immerses the reader in her universe’s vernacular, acronyms, and back-story . . . most rewarding.”

—
Publishers Weekly

 

“An excellent debut novel.
Peacekeeper
is full of exciting, complex characters in a truly byzantine universe where everything hangs in the balance. I can’t wait for Reeve’s next book.”

—Mike Shepherd, author of the Kris Longknife series

“Reeve shows great promise.”

—Darque Reviews

“Former USAF officer Reeve channels her flight experience into this crisp military SF debut. . . . Reeve drives the story at a breakneck pace, providing a fine mix of derringdo, honor, and courage, and the familial bickering and affection of a close-knit crew.”

—
Publishers Weekly

ALSO BY LAURA E. REEVE

ROC

Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

First Printing, July 2010

eISBN : 978-1-101-18855-2

Copyright © Laura E. Reeve, 2010

All rights reserved

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Every novel has its quirky challenges, particularly when life intervenes. This one turned out to have more challenges than most, and I’m grateful for my husband, Michael’s, support, as well as his encouragement and advice. I also thank the rest of my family for their patience while I focused on this book. Special recognition must go to neurologist Dr. Randall Bjork, who figured out how to treat my headaches while not turning me into a drooling (and nonwriting) zombie. Once again, I’m indebted to my critique partner, Robin Widmar, as well as first readers Summer Ficarrotta and Scott Cowan, for their reviews and editorial comments. Finally, I must thank my fantastic agent, Jennifer Jackson, my editor, Jessica Wade, and the staff at Penguin Group for their work on this series.

Did you rats sense the fracas in our newest solar system? G-145 went silent and Pilgrimage HQ panicked, sending out emergency messages. When G- 145 came back up and the
Pilgrimage III
said, “Nothing happening here,” did anyone believe them?
Something
happened, because net-think has Jude Stephanos, senior senator from Hellas Prime, hurrying off to G-145. . . .

—
Dr. Net-head Stavros
, 2106.051.22.04 UT, indexed by
Heraclitus 12
under Flux Imperative

 

 

 

T
he alien followed her, quiet as a whisper. As Major Ariane Kedros turned into the chapel, she caught in her peripheral vision a glimpse of the tall, horned Minoan warrior. Perversely, she refused to acknowledge who, or
what
, followed several meters behind her.

Every day for the past six days, before her shift started, Ariane had stopped by the chapel of the
Pilgrimage III
. On the front wall, above the altar, was the list of recent fatalities. This list grew every day, as Abram’s attempted takeover of G-145—a takeover she had played a large role in stopping—was converted from blood to dry data. Terran State Prince Hauser’s death put the number at more than two hundred.

Ignoring the Minoan behind her, Ariane selected the front bench. She sat with her back straight and stiff, her hands gripping the cool, hard surface beneath her. She started at the top and read every name. As always, she paused when she came to Colonel Elene Dokos.

It took physical effort to move past that name.
They killed her in front of me, and I couldn’t stop them
. The edge of the bench dug into her fingers as her grip tightened.

“You did the best you could.”

The voice made her start. Justin Pilgrimage, the communications officer for the
Pilgrimage
, stood beside the bench with his head cocked in question. When she nodded, he sat down beside her, although he jerked his head toward the back of the chapel.

“Don’t look now, but a Minoan’s back there watching you,” he murmured, leaning close.

“Warrior Commander’s been following me around for days,” she replied in a flat tone. Minoan technology exceeded theirs by so much that there was no chance of hiding their conversation.

His eyes widened. “Does this have anything to do with them calling you ‘Breaker of Treaties’?”

His reaction made her pause. She’d become blasé, almost numb, to the aliens that had given humans faster-than-light travel more than a century ago—and indifference was dangerous. The Minoans carried weapons that boiled people from the inside out and they had organic ships with directed-energy weapons, all of which were beyond humanity’s comprehension.

The Minoans didn’t think like humans. There was no gray area for them, particularly when following laws or dispensing justice. They’d committed “delayed genocide,” using mysterious genetic weapons, upon a tribe as punishment for piracy and terrorism. They’d followed interstellar law to the letter, of course, and no government had the balls to protest that attack. While it led to a decades-long lull in piracy, it also caused festering resentment—
and we were the ones who suffered from Abram’s vengeance
.

“Does it follow you everywhere?” Justin pressed.

“I’m given privacy for my work, but not in public places such as this.” She glanced around, noting that repairs had started on the shrine at the front. Someone found the original gold statue of St. Darius, in a helmetless environmental suit, holding out only one hand in benediction because his other arm had broken off.

This suddenly seemed ludicrous as well as heretical—having a Minoan, who probably wasn’t even a Gaian-based life-form, inside a place where people venerated Gaia’s servant St. Darius. Swallowing the hysterical giggle that rose in her throat, she said, “Luckily, they have no interest in my hygiene habits. Warrior Commander follows me only in public areas of the
Pilgrimage
, not onto my ship.”

“Why?”

“I’ve asked questions, with no success.” She forced her hands to rest in her lap rather than balling up into fists of frustration. “He—
it
—has been following me ever since the sun calmed down.”

“About that.” He smiled. “I wanted to thank you. It’s beyond rumor now. We all know you saved us from becoming another Ura-Guinn.”

She flinched and went still. She should have anticipated the comparison, even though G- 145’s sun hadn’t suffered a full temporal-distortion wave because she pushed the weapon into N-space as it detonated. Of course, Justin couldn’t know she was
also
responsible for Ura-Guinn’s devastation; her apparent age didn’t make her a likely candidate for detonating the only other temporal-distortion weapon ever used. That detonation was sixteen years ago, during the war between the Terrans and the Consortium of Autonomous Worlds, and that fatality list could eventually number over four billion souls. Saving the several thousand souls inside G-145 was almost immaterial by comparison.

Due to the vastness of space, proof of the survival of Ura-Guinn’s star had taken this long to get to civilization. Now the Feeds screamed with each new guess of Ura-Guinn’s fatalities, using clues stitched together by the Epsilon Eridani antenna telescope, which couldn’t even see the man-made structures in Ura-Guinn. Each report from the Feeds resurrected her nightmares and reanimated the accusing ghosts in the back of her mind.