Starfist: Hangfire (16 page)

"Sir," said the driver, a sergeant, "the Assistant Commandant said he'd meet you at the airport."

It was a twenty minute drive to Coen Airfield, a smaller airport than Frazier International, which handled flights to North American destinations. The driver showed Sturgeon to the check-in counter, where a ticket was waiting for him, then left. Sturgeon wondered why they were flying civilian; surely there was a military installation somewhere near the Snake River, and the ACMC swung enough weight to get them a hop on a military aircraft making the flight between Train or Military Air Station at Fargo and whatever was in Idaho. Anxiety, pretty much forgotten the past couple of hours, stabbed at him again.

Aguinaldo didn't arrive until boarding was called. When he did, he was already dressed for the wilderness. A corner of his mouth twitched upward when he saw Sturgeon in his reds. "I can't speak for you, Brigadier, but I'm off duty."

Sturgeon fought embarrassment. "Sorry, sir. I figured Marine general officers traveling—"

"In a civilian suborb, off on a weekend jaunt." Aguinaldo grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

"No problem, Ted. You can change in Boise. My cabin may be rustic, but it's civilized enough to have a closet where you can hang your monkey suit."

Miraculously, or so it seemed to Sturgeon, they had reserved seats together. Aguinaldo let him have the window seat—he'd made the trip often enough to have seen the landscape below many times, but it was a first for the FIST commander, and a commander always wants to observe the terrain. Not that he'd be able to see much of it; the suborb flew high, and nightfall would overtake them before Helena.

They didn't talk about anything that remotely approached the reason Sturgeon made his unprecedented visit to Earth, or anything else of a military nature on the flight. Instead, Aguinaldo kept the conversation on the pleasures of the Snake and the joys of angling. He even avoided Fargo politics and the follies of high-ranking bureaucrats. His jovial rectitude served merely to increase the unease that had been nibbling at Sturgeon since their brief meeting at noon. Sturgeon didn't even try to observe the landscape they flew over.

Aguinaldo kept up the light conversation during the two-hour drive in a rented car from the Boise airport to his cabin. He didn't have to try hard—Sturgeon was too involved in struggling with his anxiety to try to get the Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps to talk about something else.

They drove the last three kilometers to the cabin in silence. The last bit of road was roughly paved with gravel, and twisted and turned down a steep incline to the river. Half a kilometer beyond the bottom, with the rush of the river penetrating the soundproofing of the car, a shallow valley jutted a short distance into the mountainside. The "cabin," a one-and-a-half-story stone and log edifice, nestled against the side of the valley.

"Home away from home," Aguinaldo said when he pulled the car up in front of the cabin. "With enough of the conveniences of home that you don't think you're on a combat operation."

Inside the cabin Aguinaldo nodded, satisfied. At least one of the two calls he'd made from his car on the way to the Hexagon turned out the way he wanted. His wife hadn't been as understanding as he'd thought she'd be. She'd alternately screamed and cried about him missing the opera, and declared there was no point in her going to the opera without him. It wasn't that she wanted to see the Chang-Thorsdale work again; she'd seen it at least once too often herself. But many higher-highers, from both government and the military, were attending the opera that night, and she wanted him to be there to take the opportunity to further his career. Further his career! He had to snort at the idea. She wouldn't be mollified during the short time he'd had to talk to her. When he got home he'd have to do something nice to get back in her good graces.

But the other call, yes, to the domestic maintenance company, that went well. The cabin was clean and already warmed, and a quick inspection showed it to be in good repair and properly stocked. He made the inspection under the guise of showing Sturgeon around. The ground floor rooms were large. The living room could easily accommodate fifteen or more people with seating, more than twice that if they stood about. Adjoining in the front of the cabin was a dining room that wasn't crowded by a table large enough to seat a dozen. Behind it was a kitchen.

"Fully equipped and partly automated," Aguinaldo said. "We can punch up breakfast and a lunch to go, then do our own cooking with the fish we catch for dinner," he said proudly.

The master bedroom, complete with its own bathroom, occupied the final corner of the floor. Another bathroom was under the staircase to the upper level, where there were two bedrooms, each with its own bath, and a half bath off the short corridor, "In case we're hosting a party and the one on the first floor is busy."

They put their luggage, just one bag apiece, in their rooms, and had the kitchen make a quick dinner for them. Then Aguinaldo said, "Ted, I know it's still early, but it's been a long day and it gets late early up here. Besides, I want us to get an early start fishing tomorrow. So it's rack time for me." Aguinaldo held out his hand to shake, then went into the master bedroom and closed the door without another word.

Sturgeon stood in the middle of the kitchen where they'd eaten at a small table and hung his head. He seemed no closer to knowing why his men weren't getting rotated than he had when he left Thorsfinni's World. The way Aguinaldo had been acting, they were on no more than a weekend fishing expedition.

Was he to get no answers? He fought and knocked down his anxiety, then slowly made his way to the second floor. Once in the bedroom, he felt that it really did get late early up here and undressed and got into bed. He tossed and turned for what seemed like half the night, but the muted rumbling of the river eventually soothed him, and then he fell asleep.

Sturgeon was jolted awake by the age-old barracks call, "Reveille, reveille, reveille! Drop your cocks and grab your socks!" bellowing up the stairway. He groaned as he brushed the covers off and rolled into a sitting position on the side of his bed. He felt the cold of the wood floor through the small rug under his feet. He turned bleary eyes toward the window, saw it was still dark outside, and groaned again.

"You awake up there?" Aguinaldo shouted.

"I'm awake," Sturgeon called back, his voice already strong.

"Hit the head, I'll have breakfast ready in fifteen minutes."

Sturgeon couldn't hold back a grin. Fifteen minutes, the amount of time he had for head calls in Boot Camp all those years ago. He wondered if he could still make a head call in fifteen minutes. A body in its late fifties took a lot longer to cleanse itself than a body in its early twenties did. And then he'd still have to get dressed.

It took him nineteen minutes.

Breakfast was on the table in the kitchen. A plate with Canadian bacon and over-easy eggs, still steaming from the food servo, waited for him. A mug of hot coffee stood next to the plate, along with a glass of what could only be real orange juice.

Aguinaldo was already digging in. He swallowed a mouthful with a gulp of coffee and said, "I can order up sourdough flapjacks with real maple syrup if you prefer."

Sturgeon cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. He'd encountered sourdough flapjacks and maple syrup in his American history studies, but had no idea anybody still made them. "Really?"

"Really." Aguinaldo shoveled another forkful of breakfast into his mouth and masticated while looking a challenge at Sturgeon.

The sight and smell of the food and coffee suddenly got to Sturgeon. His stomach rumbled and saliva flowed. Lunch and dinner the day before had been light. Abruptly, he was ravenous. "How about both?"

Aguinaldo swallowed. "You got it." He turned to the servo and gave instructions.

Both men wolfed, but the servo still served up two plates of flapjacks before they finished the first course. They ate in silence, relishing that the taste of the food was somehow much better than the same meal would have been in the city—or even in a flag mess on base.

No sooner did they finish eating than the servo pinged and offered up a package and a large jug.

"Lunch and enough coffee to last us until mid-afternoon," Aguinaldo said, standing. He handed the jug to Sturgeon and took the lunch parcel himself. "I've already got the fishing gear stowed in the car. It's warm enough that we won't need our coats until this evening. Let's march."

A couple of kilometers upstream the river widened out and made a quiet pool amid a jumble of boulders. They got into their waders, took the rods Aguinaldo had ready, and their other gear, and waded into the water.

Even as inexperienced as he was with fishing, Sturgeon thought Aguinaldo led them into a piece of river running too fast for fishing.

"Lousy place to catch fish," Aguinaldo said over the roar of nearby white water, confirming what Sturgeon had thought, "but a great place to talk without our voices being picked up by listening devices."

He cast his line and began fishing.

That startled Sturgeon. Listening devices? Why would anybody want to eavesdrop on them?

"I came up with some interesting information. It seems to be classified so far beyond ultrasecret, it must be rated ‘kill your source before he tells you this.’ Ted, at least pretend like you're fishing."

"Why would anybody want to watch us?" Sturgeon asked as he made an awkward cast.

"Maybe nobody is, but I'd rather not take any chances." Aguinaldo snorted. "Chances. Just meeting privately with you is taking a chance." He slowly reeled his line in, giving it an occasional jerk. He cast again. "You stumbled onto something even the Commandant himself isn't authorized to know."

Sturgeon pretended to concentrate on his fishing rod, but his mind was roiling.

"You know an army general by the name of Cazombi." It was a statement, not a question. Sturgeon flinched but didn't reply. "He's one of a very small handful of people in the military authorized to know a certain secret." He reeled in and cast into the shadow of a boulder. "It's a secret not you, not me, not even the Commandant is cleared for. Only the Chairman and one other member of the Combined Chiefs are cleared for it. Cazombi told you part of the secret."

Sturgeon remembered. The information Major General Cazombi told him following Company L's recent deployment to Avionia had to do with alien sentiences—Cazombi had been in overall command of that mission. Twice, elements of 34th FIST had encountered intelligent aliens. Company L on Avionia and, before that, Company L's third platoon on the research planet Society 437. Sturgeon wasn't supposed to know about those encounters, but Cazombi had risked his career to tell him in the belief that a commander has the absolute right to know what his people do. The army general had told him and his top people—and sworn them to absolute secrecy. Illegitimate possession of that knowledge could get them condemned to life on the penal colony Darkside.

"There's more?" he asked.

Aguinaldo barked a bitter laugh. "A lot more, Ted." He cast again. "You know, if someone is observing us, they'll notice you're just standing there while the current drags your line downstream. Do what I'm doing." He gave his fishing rod a jerk and reeled in a bit of line.

Sturgeon did his best to mimic him, saw his line had trailed far downstream, reeled it in and recast.

"Don't worry too much about watchers, I'm probably just being paranoid. But I've encountered so many startling things over the past two days, not to mention a level of secrecy I've never even heard of, I'm seeing shadows."

"Damn!" He jerked on his line, but it was snagged. Muttering to himself, he started wading toward where the fly was stuck, reeling in the line as he went. When he reached the fly, he probed underwater for it. In a moment it was free, and he waded back with the object it caught on in his hand.

"People used to be awful careless," he said as he showed the shapeless, faintly milky object to Sturgeon.

Sturgeon looked at it, concerned. Was it some sort of disguised listening device?

"If it wasn't in such lousy shape, this would be a museum piece. If it wasn't isolated in the river, an archeologist would wet himself over it."

Startled, Sturgeon looked at him. "What is it?"

"A plastic beverage container." He looked upstream. "Centuries ago, someone on a hiking or fishing trip finished his drink and discarded the container. Over the centuries, it got washed into the river and eventually lodged under the edge of that boulder." He looked at it again. "It probably got lodged more than once. Otherwise it would have reached the Pacific Ocean a long time ago. Come on. I'm not paying enough attention to what I'm doing if I let my fly get hooked on a piece of flotsam caught under a boulder." He waded toward the river bank. "And let's dispose of this properly."

Aguinaldo stowed the ancient soda bottle in the car's rubbish compartment and got out the coffee jug and two mugs. He picked a flat rock for them to sit on and poured. While Sturgeon took a first sip, Aguinaldo withdrew what looked like a miniature emergency radio transceiver from his shirt pocket.

Sturgeon asked.

"It is an emergency transceiver." Aguinaldo set it to the weather band "It's also a white noise generator." He pressed a button on the transceiver's side. "This should keep any snooping devices from picking up our voices. It's more obvious if we're under observation, but we can always claim we're discussing classified subjects and wanted to block any casual eavesdroppers." He laughed. "And that's the absolute truth."

"So what else is there? And how'd you find out?"

Aguinaldo studied him for a long moment, then said slowly, "I'm the Assistant Commandant. To answer your second question, one doesn't reach this high without making powerful friends and doing favors along the way. There're a remarkable number of people who owe me. I called in some favors." He laughed at Sturgeon's pained expression. "Don't worry, I didn't call in favors from anyone who only owed me one. There are as many people in my debt today as there were before you arrived in Fargo." He sat erect, as though coming to a decision.