CHAPTER ONE
Selene and I had been working for Admiral Sir Graym-Barker and the Icarus Group for about two years when we suddenly weren’t.
We didn’t know it right away, of course. It was one of those things that sneaks up on you. All we knew at the beginning was that we’d been brought to the group’s super-secret headquarters outside an unnamed city on an unnamed planet to meet with the newest member of their top brass.
“So,” the newest member said, gazing across an ornate desk at us. “You’re Gregory Roarke.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, resisting the urge to point out that Graym-Barker had given him our names a grand total of five seconds earlier.
Actually, on second thought, it wasn’t that hard an impulse to resist. The man sitting stiff-backed behind the desk wore an EarthGuard army uniform with shiny general’s insignia on the epaulets and more medals on the chest even than Graym-Barker’s own full-dress outfit. Topping off the general’s ensemble was a five-kilowatt glare that appeared capable of piercing general-purpose armor plate. It certainly had no trouble suppressing any thoughts of flippancy.
“Gregory Roarke,” he repeated. “The organization’s wild card. The man who finds and loses alien portals on a regular basis.”
His glare notched up another couple of kilowatts. “The man who unilaterally made the decision to hand over one of our portals—one of our portals—to the Patth. Tell me, Mr. Roarke: Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you arrested and thrown in prison for treason?”
“I believe all the relevant information is in my report,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. I’d been called on the carpet plenty of times through my various careers, but getting dragged halfway across the Spiral for that dubious privilege was a new one. Most of the time whoever was mad at me settled for expressing his annoyance over a StarrComm screen like everyone else in the Commonwealth. Apparently, the general preferred to do these things in person.
“That’s not what I asked,” he said. “I asked you to give me a reason not to lock you away in a deep hole somewhere for your crimes.”
I looked over at Graym-Barker, standing stiffly at the side of the desk. “Actually, I can give you three reasons,” I said. “But I believe the admiral was still in the middle of the introductions.”
I’d thought the general’s glare was already at full strength. Apparently, he was the type who liked to keep a little in reserve. His eyes narrowed, the muscles in his face hardened, and his lips compressed into a thin pale line. Clearly, that had been the wrong thing to say.
Which was of course why I’d said it. As my father used to say, If the bear already plans to eat you, a show of bravado won’t cost you anything, and might just make him wonder if you’re as easy a mouthful as he thought.
“So he was,” the general said. His face still held that angry bear look, but there was now a hint of something that an incurably optimistic observer might interpret as grudging respect. “EarthGuard Field General Josiah Leland Kinneman. The new director of the Alien Portal Agency. You were about to offer me some excuses.”
“No excuses necessary,” I said. So the Icarus Group had become the Alien Portal Agency?
That wasn’t good. I’d never yet met anything that called itself an agency, bureau, or department that wasn’t peppered with incompetence, laziness, bad communication, and—worst of all—internal politics. Suddenly all my past head-butting with Admiral Graym-Barker over various issues didn’t look so bad. “Reason one: We gained previously unknown information about Patth society and the relationship between their public leadership and the more shadowy power of their established families.”
“Information that is completely useless,” Kinneman interjected.
“With all due respect, I would suggest that all information eventually proves useful,” I said. “Reason two: We’ve now added a bit more strength to our unofficial relationship with Sub-Director Nask and Expediter Huginn.”
“A relationship you’ve never been authorized to make,” Kinneman growled.
“‘Boots on the ground,’ I believe is the proper phrase,” I said. “I thought soldiers were trained to watch for unexpected opportunities.”
“You really think the Patth will feel more kindly toward you because of this?” he demanded, apparently deciding that my lack of military experience made my soldier comment way too easy a target.
“You mean the Patth in general?” I asked. “Probably not. But if you mean Sub-Director Nask and Huginn, probably so. If for no other reason than they see me as someone who can help them get what they want.”
“Which is exactly what you’re not supposed to be doing.”
“I have no problem helping Nask if we also gain in the process,” I said.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t think some vague philosophical mewings are worth giving them a portal,” Kinneman bit out. “Especially a portal that should have been ours.”
“Which conveniently brings me to reason three,” I said. “Because of your decision to pull our backup, Selene and I didn’t have a snowball’s choice in the matter. Nask had Huginn and a swarm of Patth and Iykams. Selene and I had no one.”
“And whose fault is that?” Kinneman shot back. “You deliberately and irrevocably jumped up onto the public stage. If the agency hadn’t pulled back from you, it could have suffered the same fate.”
Beside me, Selene stirred. “Gregory had nothing to do with that,” she said quietly. “All of it was because—”
“The reasons and history are irrelevant,” I cut her off. I knew where she was going, and she was not going to throw herself on this particular grenade. Even if it would do us any good, which I was pretty sure it wouldn’t. “What is relevant is that it was a moral decision, we’re in it together, and as you say it’s irrevocable.”
Kinneman’s eyes narrowed a little more—
“On the other hand,” I continued, “just because it’s on the Commonwealth’s official record doesn’t mean anyone will actually remember it for very long. I’d make you a small wager that you could mention our names on the street or even in the lofty heights of academia and ninety-nine out of a hundred wouldn’t have a clue as to who we were.”
I looked at Graym-Barker again. His face was expressionless, but there was a glint in his eye that told me he’d already been over this ground with Kinneman and hadn’t made any more headway against the general’s unreasonable annoyance than I was.
Except that I was a lowly minion and wasn’t supposed to be able to influence a general’s conclusions. Graym-Barker was an admiral, and should at least have a decent shot at doing so. The fact that Kinneman was still riding this particular horse suggested he was the type who didn’t take advice from anyone.
As my father used to say, There are people you respect, people you trust, and people you obey. Good leaders go for all three. Mediocre leaders settle for the third.
“My point is that there’s really no danger of the Icarus Group getting pulled into any of this,” I went on. Just because Kinneman wanted to call it the Alien Portal Agency didn’t mean I had to. In fact, it was almost the exact opposite. “I could also mention that you still need Selene and me to hunt you up portals that the Patth haven’t already found and laid claim to.”
“We may need Selene,” Kinneman said pointedly. “We don’t particularly need you.”
“I think you’ll find we’re a package deal.”
“That remains to be seen.” Kinneman touched a key on his intercom. “Send him in.”
Behind us, the door opened. I turned—
And felt my throat tighten. The newcomer was late middle-aged, with a receding hairline and the slightly leathery skin of someone who’s spent a lot of time under a myriad of alien suns. But his eyes were bright and alert, and his expression held the calm half smile of someone totally at ease with himself and the universe and wanted all those around him to find that same inner serenity.
And as my father used to say…
“Hello, son.”
I sighed. “Hello, Dad,” I replied, hearing the resignation in my voice. “Why am I not surprised?”