Back | Next
Contents

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


“Nicole Schlichting,” McKell said, shaking his head with a mix of awe and disbelief. “The legend herself. I’d make you a small wager that she’s still considered a myth among a sizeable percentage of the badgemen out there.”

“A couple of weeks ago I’d have been right there with them,” I agreed, taking a sip of my cola.

“And you’re sure it’s her?” McKell pressed. “Really sure, I mean? It’s not just her calling herself Nikki?”

“Very sure,” I said. “I have direct confirmation from people who should know.”

McKell’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Which people? ISLE badgemen?”

“Let’s just say they’re people who know things and leave it at that.”

For a second I thought McKell was not, in fact, going to leave it at that. But then there was a small vibration from the phone he’d set on the Stormy Banks’s dayroom table beside his drink. “Report from Ixil,” he announced, picking up the phone and peering at the display. “Your passenger seems to be doing some work on her new toy.”

“Is she, now,” I said. On the drive to the spaceport McKell had told us Ixil was planning to let himself into the Ruth through our secret entrance and send Pix and Pax through the ship’s air ducts to check on Nikki. Apparently, he’d succeeded. “Details?”

“He says it looks like an Ausmacher missile-slug sniper rifle,” McKell said. “Pax couldn’t get a clear enough look for Ixil to identify the model.”

“Well, whichever one it started life as, it’ll have been modified,” I warned. “She picked it up from a gunsmith on Niskea.”

“Or the gun might be standard issue and her friend just provided her with specialized ammo,” McKell pointed out as he keyed in a return message. “I’ve seen that happen on occasion. But I’ll tell Ixil to get whatever else he can on the gun.” He finished his message and set the phone down again. “Let’s talk about Trandosh. Why do you think there’s a portal at the end of the hilly section?”

“Why do you think there’s one here?” I countered.

McKell frowned. “Who said we do?”

“If you’re not portal-hunting, why are you and Ixil here?” I asked. “I can’t believe you haven’t got more pressing duties than taking a fond-memories tour.”

McKell paused, and I could see him working through just how much he could or should tell us. “Icarus was unique,” he said at last. “You remember that with Firefall the Patth had to wait until a destination code was punched in before they could get their own portal’s address?”

I nodded. Considering everything else that had been clustered around that puzzle I wasn’t likely to ever forget. “Sure. So?”

“So that wasn’t the case with Icarus,” he said. “It was already on and set for Alpha. That’s why when I accidentally triggered it that’s where I ended up.”

I looked at Selene, saw her pupils starting to register the full implications of what McKell was saying. “So you want to know who set it up?”

“Who, and why,” McKell said. “We’ve looked around Alpha as best we can using small orbital drones, but so far we haven’t found any clues as to why the Icarus portal might have been preset for it.”

“Any idea how much time has passed since the portal was activated?” I asked. “I mean originally, not since you went through?”

“Good question,” McKell said. “One estimate puts the portal ages at between ten and fifteen thousand years.”

“So it was sitting there, primed and on standby, for at least ten thousand years?”

“As you may have noticed, the portal creators—”

“The Icari,” I corrected.

“The Icari made these things to last,” McKell said, giving me a look of strained patience. Apparently, he wasn’t any more impressed by our name for the portal’s creators than Ixil had been. “Or it could be worse. If we take the state of the Trandosh ruins into account, that number could go up to forty or fifty thousand years.”

“No,” Selene murmured. “It’s closer to ten.”

We both looked at her. “How do you know?” McKell asked.

For a second I caught a glimpse of some deep emotion in her pupils. Then they cleared, and she was back to her usual calm self. “The Trandosh ruins aren’t a good indicator,” she said. “Remember how well-preserved the Erymant Temple complex is. The buildings there haven’t survived forty thousand years of natural erosion and weathering.”

If both sites were built by the Icari,” McKell cautioned. “They may not have been.”

“They were,” I said. “Selene’s right. The reason Trandosh is so badly ruined is because it was attacked.”

“Really,” McKell said calmly. I’d expected my statement to have thrown him at least a little. “By whom?”

I paused, trying to organize my thoughts. I needed to convince him if we were going to find the other end of Cherno’s portal before our clock ran out. But at the same time I needed to avoid the facts that would run the conversation off the road, or violate the admiral’s order to keep Nask and the Patth out of it. “Let me go back to the beginning,” I said. “Remember my theory about Popanilla?”

“That Shiroyama Island was a prisoner-of-war camp set up by the Icari?” McKell shrugged. “It was an intriguing idea, anyway.”

I thought so,” I said, filtering the annoyance out of my voice. I’d pitched that suggestion to McKell and the admiral, neither of whom had greeted it with any discernable enthusiasm. They still preferred their original theory that the place was the scene of some great ancient battle that the Icari had used a Gemini portal to get to. “Now assume there was another prison somewhere, this one for political prisoners instead of military ones. Assume further that those prisoners were able to get access to their end of their Gemini, that it led here to Meima, and that they and however many friends had already gathered here attacked the government center where the Icarus portal was located.”

“To what end?”

“What do you think?” I countered. “Control a full-range portal like Icarus and you can go anywhere. You can escape, launch further attacks—the sky is literally the limit.”

Selene muttered something in her own language, her pupils suddenly stricken. “The hills and dips,” she said. “You’re saying the dips are bomb craters from the battle?”

“More likely the result of mortars or antipersonnel rockets,” I said, a ghostly image rising in front of my eyes of men and women charging furiously across a killing field. “Smaller charges, more precise, safer for use near your own people and facilities.”

“So they were running from their portal to the Icarus,” Selene said slowly. “That’s why you think it’s at the far end of the hill section.”

“Right,” I said. “All the attackers were in that zone. No point wasting ammunition elsewhere.”

“Interesting theory,” McKell said. “One problem: What makes you think this portal, if it exists, is the other end of Cherno’s Gemini?”

“There was just something about Cherno’s place,” I said, putting all the quiet earnestness into my voice as I could. As my father used to say, When you want someone to swallow a plate of malarkey, make sure it’s the best-tasting malarkey you’ve ever baked. “I can’t really put it into words, but I’m convinced the other end is here.”

McKell shook his head. “Sorry, Roarke. I can’t just—”

“I could smell it,” Selene said suddenly.

McKell broke off in mid-sentence. “What?”

“The aromas that I smelled near where the Icarus was found,” she said. “I could smell them in Cherno’s portal.” She looked at me, her pupils rippling with the tension that came from a basically honest person lying her butt off.

“Wait a minute,” McKell said, frowning. Fortunately, he wasn’t nearly as good at reading her as I was. “You’re saying that some of the cross-transfer air from ten thousand years ago is still in that portal?”

“You know how well those complex molecules can cling to surfaces,” I improvised. “It’s the whole basis for Kadolian scent tracking. If Selene says she smelled Trandosh in Cherno’s portal, you can believe it.”

McKell grunted. “You could have said that in the first place,” he growled. “Instead of that just something about Cherno’s place nonsense.”

“I probably should have,” I said, making sure I sounded properly chastened. “I guess sometimes you just want to be trusted for yourself.”

“Yes, well, that’s not the way to go about it,” McKell said, his eyes shifting back and forth between us. He still wasn’t buying it, not fully.

But he also couldn’t refute it, not in any objective way. Selene’s abilities were far enough off the edge of the map that he could accept her conclusions or reject them but couldn’t really challenge them.

“Fine,” he said at last. “Anyway, any portal we find is a win for us, even if it isn’t the other end of Cherno’s. Let’s assume you’re right. How do we proceed?”

“As I told Ixil, we start by turning over some of the soil out past the hills,” I said. “You don’t need to dig too deep, just enough to bring some portal metal molecules to the surface. Selene and I will give you a few hours’ head start, then come by and see if she can spot anything. If she can, great. If she can’t, we repeat the process.”

“What about Schlichting?”

“We’ll check the bounty notices when we get back to the Ruth and see if Trent has closed down the one on her,” I said. “If he has, she should be able to go anywhere she wants without drawing any trouble.”

McKell’s lip twisted. “If her reputation is even close to the reality, I doubt you have to worry about her.”

“I was more worried about the person or persons who instigated the trouble.”

“Good point,” he said. “All right. As soon as you’re safely on board, I’ll have Ixil retrieve Pix and Pax and sneak back out. We’ll get started at the dig at first light.”

“Thanks,” I said, draining my glass. “While you’re at it, ask him to get every bit of data he can about that Ausmacher gun and ammo. I want to know exactly what we’re up against.”

“I don’t think you need to be concerned about it,” McKell said. “She’s not going to open fire with a sniper rifle inside the Ruth.”

“I’m not thinking about us,” I said. “I’m thinking about her target.”

McKell shook his head. “There’s really nothing you can do about that,” he said heavily. “If someone like Schlichting misses her target the first time, she’s just going to try again later.”

“So she told me,” I said. “But I won’t have any control over her actions then.”

“I don’t think we have any control over her now,” Selene murmured.

“Then maybe we should try to get some.”

McKell looked at Selene, then back at me. “You’re not thinking this through, Roarke,” he said. “The only thing getting in Schlichting’s way will accomplish is getting you and Selene in her crosshairs, too.”

“Maybe.” I took a deep breath. Clearly, neither of them was getting it. “Look. Nikki is aboard our ship. Our ship. We may not be legally responsible for her actions, but those actions still reflect on us. I don’t want to be associated with a murder, plain and simple. If she wants to kill someone after she leaves, you’re right, I can’t stop her. But as long as she’s aboard my ship, I have to at least try.”

Again, McKell looked at Selene. “For what it’s worth, I do understand what you’re saying,” he said. “I’ll just point out that while you’re not responsible for Schlichting, you are responsible for Selene. Don’t put her in danger just to satisfy some vague sense of justice.”

“I won’t,” I assured him.

“Good. See that you don’t.” McKell stood up and gestured to the dayroom hatch. “Time to go. Come on, I’ll drive you back to the Ruth.”

* * *

Nikki was still in her cabin when we arrived. I knocked, and when she answered I told her we were back, that I was locking down the Ruth for the night, and asked if she needed anything.

She didn’t. She also didn’t ask where we’d been, and I didn’t offer to tell her.

I returned to the entryway and double-locked it, then went to the bridge to make sure the pilot board was similarly locked down. After that it was finally to the dayroom, where Selene had in the interim set the table and prepped a late dinner for the two of us. I sealed the dayroom hatch, and for the first time in several hours we finally had some privacy.

“Interesting evening,” Selene said, her pupils studiously neutral as I poured us some wine. Having been threatened with a strangulation and a shooting, and having had to navigate the minefield that was McKell’s innate grid of suspicions, I decided I could bend my earlier vow and have a little alcohol. “I assume you have some thoughts?” she added.

“One or two,” I said, sitting down across from her and picking up my fork. “Number one is to thank you for backing me up with McKell about Cherno’s better half being on Meima. I don’t think he’d have been nearly as willing to cooperate without your vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, her pupils shifting to a thoughtful look. “I wish the admiral hadn’t ordered us not to tell him where Cherno’s portal came from.”

“I’m not thrilled by that, either,” I conceded. “He’s not going to be happy when he finds out, and just because it’s not our fault doesn’t mean he won’t blame us for it.”

“I suppose.” Selene speared herself a chunk of broccoli. “When are you going to tell me what kind of deal you made with Nask?” She put the vegetable delicately in her mouth. “Or weren’t you planning to?”

Briefly, I thought about denying that I’d even met with Nask personally, let alone come to any agreements. The less she knew about any of that, the cleaner she’d come out when the inevitable fallout came roaring down on me.

But of course she’d smelled Nask’s scent on me when I came back from my visit to the Odinn and knew who I’d been keeping recent company with. “No, I can tell you,” I said reluctantly. “I should probably mention first that he’s in pretty bad shape. When Cherno’s team hijacked the Fidelio portal, they apparently killed every other Patth aboard.”

“Thirty of them, if Trent was telling the truth.”

I winced. I’d forgotten that number. “Probably,” I said. “Nask’s own survival was a combination of luck and the raiders’ inattention.”

“I’m sorry for him,” Selene said, her pupils showing no genuine regret that I could see.

“If you’re not, you should be,” I said bluntly. “He’s still our best window into what the Patth are thinking and doing, and on top of that he owes us a favor that we’ll be collecting on when the time is right. His death would put us back to Square One.”

“Whereas we’re now all the way to Square Three?”

“Probably more like Square One-and-a-Half,” I conceded. “The Patth are hardly known for their eagerness to make friends. The point is that we don’t want some other go-getter taking the portal mandate away from him.”

Selene looked down at her plate, picking out a piece of chicken. But when she raised her head again I could see some reluctant agreement in her pupils. “All right,” she said. “I’m glad he’s alive, and wish him a speedy recovery. What deal did you make?”

“You’re not going to like it,” I warned. “I promised I would do everything in my power to get his portal back to him.”

Her pupils turned a sort of stunned flatness. “The portal you promised the admiral?”

“The portal Cherno promised the admiral,” I countered, hearing the defensiveness in my voice. “I never made any promises one way or another.”

Selene remained silent, but it wasn’t hard to guess what she was thinking. I might not have explicitly told anyone I’d hand the portal over to the Icarus Group, but that had certainly been everyone’s expectations. Including my own. “How do you intend to go about doing that?” she asked.

“Still working on it,” I said. “Look, I know you don’t agree, but this is—”

“Who said I didn’t agree?”

“Uh . . . ” I broke off, staring at her. With anyone else I’d assume it was sarcasm or a setup to some withering retort. But Selene didn’t work that way. Besides, I could see the calmness right there in her pupils. “You don’t disagree?”

She turned her attention back to her plate. I sat quietly, waiting as she pondered her way through three more bites. “Back on Fidelio you pointed out that Nask could have sabotaged our Gemini portals, but didn’t,” she said at last. “At the time, you used that as your argument for why we shouldn’t begrudge the Patth obtaining theirs.”

“And that would still be my argument,” I agreed. “Plus the fact that a lot of Patth were killed during the hijacking, which will have made everyone from the Director General on down very unhappy. Returning the portal to them would go a long ways toward convincing them that the Icarus Group had nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t know how convinced they’ll be regardless,” Selene warned. “But you’re right, it’s certainly the best first step.” She studied me. “What did Nask give you to bring aboard the Ruth? A communicator of some kind?”

For a second I just stared at her. How had she—?

Of course. She’d smelled Nask’s scent on me when I returned from the Odinn, but after several showers and clothes launderings the scent was still there. Ergo, Nask had given me something that hadn’t gone through any of those cleaning processes.

That something being the million commarks currently tucked away in my wallet.

As my father used to say, Sometimes the full truth makes things more complicated than you can afford. In that case, just tell the half that keeps things simple. “He gave me some spending money to cover unanticipated expenses,” I said. Which was completely true, though certainly not how Selene would take it. “Anyway, right now Nask and Cherno are the future. The Trandosh ruins are the present, and we need to get some sleep if we’re going to dig us up a portal tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Selene said. “Speaking of ruins, have you really changed your mind about Shiroyama Island?”

I had to play back my memories of the evening’s conversations before I could pick up on her reference. “You mean that it was for Icari political prisoners? Yes. For one thing, the place is just too nice. There’s those mountains, shoreline, forests, plus plenty of flat ground where you can house a bunch of people in relative comfort. It’s way too nice a spot to park a bunch of your enemies.”

“Not to mention the comfortable climate.”

“Exactly,” I said. “It’s the kind of place mid-level functionaries put people they might be answering to again someday. And second, there are those armbands like the one you found. You don’t need to pamper enemy prisoners by letting them keep their rank insignia. In fact, taking those away would be an easy way to add some extra humiliation to their exile.”

“But again, you’d want to treat political prisoners with more respect,” Selene said. “Yes. So how do you think it worked?”

“The escape?” I felt my throat tighten as I again visualized the Meima killing field. “I’m guessing the Popanilla crowd had help from someone on Fidelio in taking over their portal. They came through, hurried across the Erymant grounds to the other Gemini—”

“Not bothering to do any damage to the structures along their way.”

“Probably doing their best not to damage anything, in fact,” I said. “That kind of noise would draw attention, which was the last thing they wanted. The minute the Fidelio authorities were alerted, they would have moved to lock down the Gemini portal to Meima.”

“And the rebels couldn’t stay on Fidelio because there was no full-range portal there?”

“That’s my guess,” I said. “I’m thinking Fidelio was a minor administration complex. A way station for the rebels on their way to the real prize.”

“Meima and Icarus.”

“Right,” I said. “The full-range portal and the people who ran it were their ultimate goal. Also note how the rebels were able to completely circumvent the whole purpose of having two different Gemini portals close together in the first place. That transfer gap was supposed to keep any prisoner escapes confined to Fidelio and not let them get to Meima.”

A hint of contempt drifted into Selene’s pupils. “Someone wasn’t doing their job.”

“Or someone had been suborned or was already dead,” I said, wincing again. “We don’t know how big or widespread the uprising was.”

“But we do know the Meima administration center was completely destroyed.”

“Eventually,” I said, frowning. “Not necessarily all of it at that time.”

But if it was mostly destroyed in that first attack, then we might also have the answer to McKell’s puzzle.

We finished the rest of our meal in silence. “What do we do if the portal’s not there?” Selene asked as we collected the plates and flatware.

“Then Nask and Cherno stop being the future and become the present,” I said grimly. “A very, very unhappy present.”


Back | Next
Framed