Prodigal (42 page)

If I went deep enough.

So far, it had been a crapshoot—lower-risk maneuvers designed more to avoid the security subsystems than to tap Directorate databases, an approach that yielded only small morsels of data. Nathan desperately hoped that this time his net had hauled up some bigger fish.

He clicked through one screen after another, parsing the search terms and translating the results. He picked up a few oblique references—as he guessed, nothing that approached the sensitive material he targeted. Even secret and eyes-only classifications didn’t cut it, unless something got slipped in by accident—

—and there it was.

Nathan augmented the page, the highlighted search hits flashing at him in bright red. His frosty breaths quickened the farther he read, into a memo some junior staffer at Command had obviously composed as an ass-covering measure:

FLASH BULLETIN PRIORITY ENABLE

DELTA BRAVO TANGO ZULU JULIET ALPHA XRAY

DATE: 04.19.72

FROM: TOBIAS, GILLIAN LT. (jg)

DIRECTORATE OPERATIONS

RE: DISPOSITION OF SRM-77621

SRM-77621. Salvage recovery mission.

Almacantar
’s designation. Nathan went farther:

In response to queries from mission personnel regarding the unexpected find at the site of the Mars terraforming settlement: I have repeatedly made requests of Command for instructions on how to proceed but did not receive a response.

As of today, however, I have been informed that the matter has been referred to the office of Corporate Special Services and classified Echelon Crypto. Further inquiries are hereby prohibited, as are any related communications with the captain and crew of SRM-77621.

 

I believe this course of action to be highly unusual given the circumstances on Mars, and advise Command to take steps to release all relevant information to SRM-77621 as soon as clearance can be established.

END MESSAGE

Nathan tensed. From the beginning, he thought that the Directorate had kept them in the dark—but he had never imagined
this
level of CSS involvement. Command was no longer calling the shots on this mission, assuming they ever had. With spooks running the show, Nathan’s worry took a sharp turn into dread.

But why the hell is it taking them so long to cut new orders? CSS would be anxious to resolve this—or at the very least make it all go away.

Nathan kept scanning through more messages until he came across a follow-up entry:

In light of the discovery of survivors at Olympus Mons, it is URGENT that Command provide specific guidelines to SRM-77621 as to their handling and status. A continuing blackout of communications in this matter can have potentially catastrophic consequences.

If CSS does not approve at least partial disclosure, then Command should be on record indicating that it cannot be held responsible in the event of related collateral damage.

Please advise status as soon as possible.

END MESSAGE

At least one person at Command has a pair,
Nathan thought—high praise for anybody at that level of the food chain. A loud-mouthed lieutenant wasn’t supposed to give flag officers a hard time on matters of policy—which was why it didn’t surprise him to find a later memo from the same author spelling out the details of her relief from duty. What
did
amaze him, however, was the bomb she dropped in the middle—the kind of language that could get a person court-martialed for treason:

The safety of SRM-77621 and her crew has clearly been compromised by the seemingly capricious directives from CSS, abetted by officers at the highest level of Directorate Command. Should this course of action stand, I believe serious repercussions will result.

Toward that end, I intend to turn the results of my personal investigations into this matter over to the civilian government. In particular, they will want to address why transmissions of unknown origin picked up by Mars advance craft were not entered into the official record, or made known to mission planners prior to the launch of SRM-77621.

Transmission intercepts…

Nathan remembered their own approach to Mars, and the signals that led them deep into the caverns of Olympus Mons.

But even that couldn’t compare to the darker revelation:

Corporate Special Services must also explain the probable presence of one of their agents on board a Directorate ship, in violation of at least eight separate sections of space maritime law.

Until these matters are resolved, the future of all missions to the Martian surface will remain in serious doubt and serious danger.

END MESSAGE

Nathan could barely contain the adrenaline shakes within his numbed body.

“They knew,” he seethed. “They goddamned knew.”

He slammed the pages down in front of Kellean, nearly knocking the table over.

“Anything you want to explain?”

The lieutenant recoiled from Nathan’s violent approach, turning to the captain for help—but Farina kept her distance, a neutral observer for the purposes of this interrogation. She did make a point of turning off the camera, leaving the three of them in total isolation. This time, there would be no witnesses to what transpired in the wardroom.

“Sir?”
Kellean pleaded.

Nathan smacked the table again.

“I’m asking the questions, Lieutenant.”

“
What
questions?” she shouted back. “These aren’t questions! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

“Take a look at the transcript.”

“Why? You’ve already made up your mind about me. What’s the point of talking to you about anything?”

“Because that’s an
order,
” Farina growled.

Kellean took notice and settled back down. As Nathan circled around her, she thumbed through the printouts he had made, stopping frequently to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

“I still don’t get it,” Kellean said when she finished—a feeble attempt at confusion and dismay. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“You tell us,” Nathan pressed.

“I already
did.
”

“You haven’t even begun,” he snapped, pulling out the chair next to her. He sat down next to her, while the captain continued her leisurely pace across the table. “I had you figured for a liar after you sliced up the doc—but I have to admit, I never thought you could be CSS. You kill Masir because they told you to, or was that just a little fun you had on the side?”

“He
attacked
me, Commander!”

“More like he found you out.”

Kellean shifted into defiance. “This is ridiculous. I’m the
victim
here.”

“We’ll see about that,” Nathan retorted. “How long do you think it’ll take before we pick apart sickbay and find something that ties you to this?” Then, in a sinister turn, he added, “Or maybe we should just turn you over to the crew and tell them what you
really
are.”

Kellean jerked her head toward him. “You can’t do that. I have rights—”

“So now you’re talking about
rights
?” he sneered. “Pretty strange coming from somebody who hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“What you’re doing is
illegal.
”

“Take a look around you, Lieutenant. This is deep space. Anything could happen to you out here and nobody would ever know.”

“You’re insane,” Kellean said.

“Maybe,” Nathan intoned, “but I’m not the one in irons.”

They stared each other down—and for one tense moment he actually thought that Kellean might break; but then she hardened, her defenses popping back up, as if she’d just remembered her resistance training. Short of making good on his threat, this could go on for hours or even days—time they didn’t have.

Nathan looked at Farina.

“Take her down to the hangar deck,” the captain said. “Put her over the side.”

Kellean’s eyes widened in shock.

“I won’t have spies on my ship.”

Nathan reached for Kellean, grabbing her by the arm. She resisted as he yanked her out of the chair, shrieking in pain when Nathan twisted the arm behind her back. Kellean struggled to see Farina, her legs kicking wildly as he dragged her across the deck.

“Captain!”

Farina just turned away, shaking her head in disgust. “Get her out of my sight.”

Closer to the hatch, Kellean’s flailing pushed Nathan into the bulkhead—but he kept going.

“Skipper, please!”

Farina sat down, pensive and distant. Even Nathan wondered if this was a bluff, or if she really meant it.

“Don’t do this!”

Nathan squeezed harder. Kellean’s words came out in gasps.

“I’ll tell you anything you want!”

Farina straightened up, motioning for Nathan to halt. He relaxed his grip and dropped Kellean to the floor, tears streaming down her swollen cheeks. Nathan almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

The captain slowly rose, walking over to the prone lieutenant while Nathan withdrew. Their roles reversed, it was now Farina’s turn to apply pressure—which she did with quiet ferocity and lethal intent. She picked Kellean up by the collar, draping her against the bulkhead.

“Who are you?”

Kellean squirmed, but went nowhere.

“You tell me now, or I swear to God I’ll kill you myself.”

The lieutenant’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Just somebody doing a job,” she grunted, “and you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Lauren Farina let go of Kellean and backed away. The lieutenant made no attempt to stand, but just watched as the captain walked slowly to the other side of the wardroom, where she stopped next to a porthole and stared past her reflection into the blackness beyond.

“You’re no agent,” Farina observed coldly.

“I’m just a contractor,” the lieutenant replied, propping herself up. Nathan hovered nearby, making sure that Kellean didn’t try anything else. “They needed somebody in the service. I was available.”

Farina turned back around. “What for?”

Kellean studied the captain closely, weighing her options. The game was up and there was little to gain from her carrying on her charade, but Nathan still didn’t trust her. No matter what she said, he planned on making sure it was the truth—even if it meant spilling more blood.

“To investigate,” she said, “and report.”

“Activity on the Martian surface?”

Kellean nodded. “Command didn’t know what to do,” she explained. “When the scouting craft detected those signals from Olympus Mons, everyone started to get nervous—so they took the problem over to Special Services.”

Farina considered what she had just heard, deciding how much of it to believe. “Why would CSS be interested in a Directorate operation?”

“How the hell should I know?” Kellean grumbled. “Maybe they were afraid of creating some big, messy incident. All I can tell you is that the word came from high up—somewhere outside the chain of command.”

“I want
names,
Lieutenant.”

“Those kinds of people don’t
have
names,” the lieutenant said sharply. “They just give orders—and nobody asks questions.”

Nathan stepped into the fray. “You’re talking about the Assembly.”

“Or someone close to them,” Kellean taunted. She seemed to enjoy having Nathan on a string. “My case officer looked plenty scared the one time I saw him. Now I’m starting to understand why. The whole thing has the smell of a real palace coup. I’m just sorry I got caught in the middle of it.”