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CHAPTER THREE

Selene and I had been to the Icarus Group headquarters a couple of times, but we’d never been allowed very far from the centerpiece of the place, the massive portal itself. This trip settled neatly into that same pattern, with my father and our four EarthGuard Marine escorts taking us only a couple of corridors from our small meeting room to the larger conference room I remembered from my first visit here.

The crowd awaiting us this time around had a similar makeup. Along with Kinneman and Admiral Graym-Barker were Jordan McKell, Ixil and the two outriders squatting on his shoulders, and Tera C, whose full name and exact relationship to the group I still didn’t know. Two other men and a woman in EarthGuard uniforms were also sitting together at one end of the table, all three of them wearing the unit insignia of the 555th Engineer Brigade.

“Let me introduce the Needle department heads,” my father said as he ushered Selene and me to chairs facing the three engineers. “Colonel Kolodny, head of the bioprobe assembly team; Major Ganic, heading the grav-beam operations team; and Lieutenant Shevrade, chief grav-beam operator.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, nodding to each of them in turn. “Interesting job descriptions. Especially yours, Colonel.”

“How so?” Kolodny asked, his pleasant baritone in sharp contrast to his weathered face and wiry hands.

“I always assumed bioprobes came from the factory fully assembled,” I said. “What did you do, take one apart just so you could put it back together again?”

“As a matter of fact,” Kinneman put in, “yes, they did.”

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Which should really have been obvious,” Kinneman said, clearly enjoying the moment. “You of all people should know the limited size of a portal’s receiver module hatches.”

I stared at him a moment longer, then shifted my gaze to McKell. “So you really did it?” I asked.

“We did,” he confirmed with a nod. “I assume you’re suitably impressed?”

“I think we’re a couple of grades above just suitably,” I murmured as the memories came rushing back. Selene’s discovery of what turned out to be one half of a directory to the Icarus portal addresses, my suggested reconstruction of the long-past events that might have led to that finding, and my even more tentative conclusion that the directory’s other half might have been dropped from the orbiting Alpha portal to the unexplored planet rotating silently beneath it.

And if Colonel Kolodny and his team had really gone to all the trouble Kinneman and McKell just said they had…“I did only say that the other half might be down there,” I reminded them.

“Understood,” McKell said. “But your reconstruction of how LH ended up where it did seemed reasonable. It was discussed at the highest level, and the decision was made to do some follow-through.” He gave me a small smile. “Don’t worry, no one’s going to blame you if the search comes up dry.”

“Oh, good,” I said. Though I doubted that grace would extend to Kinneman. “So we’re calling our half of the directory LH now?”

McKell shrugged. “It’s easier to say and write than the left-hand half of the portal directory.

“Plus it’s a more opaque name if the Patth happen to be listening in?” I suggested.

McKell and Ixil, as I’d long ago discovered, had excellent control of their faces. But Pix and Pax, crouching on Ixil’s shoulders with their long claws tapping into his nervous system, weren’t nearly as inscrutable. The two ferret-sized creatures gave simultaneous twitches, small but obvious if you knew what to look for. Clearly, Patth monitoring of the Spiral’s communications in general and the Icarus Group’s in particular continued to be a sore spot with the upper brass.

“Plus that,” McKell agreed, his voice as unreadable as his face.

Kinneman wasn’t nearly as good, or else he just wasn’t trying. His eyes narrowed, and I could tell he wanted to say something, probably an accusation that my contacts with Sub-Director Nask had been what had put the Patth onto the group in the first place. But for once, he decided to let that one lie.

Or else knew perfectly well that it wasn’t true and didn’t want to look stupid in front of the rest of the assembly.

Regardless, it was time to move the conversation off that subject. “So what’s the plan?” I asked.

“We spend the rest of the day here,” McKell said. “You and Selene need to be briefed on the equipment and the proposed schedule, and be fitted with vac suits. Tomorrow, we head to Alpha and you and Lieutenant Shevrade will see if you can make some history.”

“Okay,” I said cautiously, eyeing Shevrade. “So the lieutenant will be operating the grav-beam generators. Who’s operating the bioprobe itself?”

“I was given to understand it’s not so much operating as it is monitoring,” Kinneman put in.

“Correction noted,” I said, inclining my head to him. “So who’s monitoring the bioprobe?”

“You are, of course,” Kinneman said. “It’s what you’ve been doing for the past few years, isn’t it?”

“Yes, except that Selene and I usually do it from the Ruth’s control room,” I pointed out. “This will be entirely different.”

Kinneman gave a small snort. “I don’t see how.”

“Plus I’ve never operated a DeepSix before,” I continued. “It may take more than a single afternoon to learn how to properly run one.”

“It’s a bioprobe,” Kinneman said, his limited supply of patience starting to run even lower. “You’ll watch the lieutenant send it into the atmo, and then watch her bring it out again.”

“Of course.” I turned to Colonel Kolodny. “Colonel, I assume your engineers use dirt-moving equipment on occasion?”

“Of course,” Kolodny said.

“Ever dealt with a Drovni-Kalib twelve-mark?”

His eyes narrowed a bit. “Drovni-Kalibs are a Drilie machine.”

“Yes, they are. So that’s a no?”

“Your point is well taken, Gregory,” my father jumped smoothly into the conversation. “I think we can consider the schedule Colonel McKell offered just now to be only the first of several options. You and Selene will certainly be given whatever time you need to feel comfortable with the DeepSix.”

“Thank you,” I said, keeping my own face and voice casual. McKell was a colonel? There’d never been even a hint of a military connection in any of interactions I’d had with him. “I presume, Colonel Kolodny, that you have a full manual available?”

“We do,” Kolodny confirmed, a hint of relief in his voice. He, at least, knew better than to throw a complicated machine at someone without proper training. “We also have a second B33 available for you to look at—fully assembled, of course—plus a simulator you can use for operational practice.”

“Excellent,” I said, nodding my thanks. “Thank you.”

“In the meantime,” my father continued, “since we’re already assembled here, I suggest General Kinneman continue his briefing, along with the proposed timeline once you’re ready to proceed with the operation.” He gestured to Kinneman. “General?”

“Yes,” Kinneman said. He still didn’t look happy, but at least he wasn’t glaring anymore. “The bioprobe and grav-beam generators have been mounted on the outside of Alpha’s receiver module.” He keyed his info pad, and a schematic of Alpha and the planet appeared on the conference room’s displays, complete with a dizzyingly complex series of orbital pathways and insertion vectors in half a dozen colors. “Here’s how and where the probe will do its first pass.”

* * *

The briefing took an hour. After that, Colonel Kolodny took us to a large and well-equipped machine shop where the promised DeepSix B33 was sitting on a workbench. A computer desk beside it held the operations manual and simulator program.

Kolodny stuck around the whole afternoon, answering our questions and generally making himself useful as we got up to speed on this particular bioprobe’s set of quirks. McKell dropped in twice to see how we were doing, though he then went off to presumably attend to other duties. At one point I asked Kolodny to call in Ixil so that he could send Pix and Pax through some of the B33’s larger conduits, just to confirm that the manual’s diagrams accurately described the gadget we were working on.

I found it particularly interesting that neither Ixil nor Kolodny took any issue whatsoever with my borderline tech paranoia, whereas I guessed Kinneman probably would have considered it a waste of time. Clearly, our two advisors had both had the experience of documentation and reality not synching up.

Selene and I had missed lunch, but dinner more than made up for it. Most of the people from our earlier meeting were there, plus a dozen additional EarthGuard junior officers with the same 555th patch, presumably the rest of Kolodny’s engineering team. I picked a table that was close enough for us to eavesdrop on the latter group, under the reasonable assumption that the people who were handling the project’s nuts and bolts would have the most interesting conversations. As my father used to say, It’s not a coincidence that ear to the ground and boots on the ground are two of humanity’s most enduring idioms.

Unfortunately, in this case the gambit gained me nothing. The engineers mostly chatted about what they were going to do when they were finally given a few days’ leave, and their many and varied suggestions for that liberty strongly suggested that they didn’t know where we were any more than Selene and I did.

My father and General Kinneman, I noted, were conspicuous by their absence.

Kinneman had assigned us a nice suite, consisting of two bedrooms, each with a private bathroom, and a good-sized living/conversation area in the middle. The bedroom where Selene’s luggage had been laid out, I noted, had an extra set of filters on all the ventilation grilles. Either someone was worried that the base’s odors would be offensive to the incredibly powerful Kadolian sense of smell, or that same someone was concerned that those odors might provide clues as to where the Icarus Group had set up shop. Given Kinneman’s overall attitude toward us, I leaned toward the latter.

And with the two of us finally alone, I was able to ask the question I’d known I had to ask. The question I’d been dreading ever since our arrival.

“So,” I said with an effort at casualness I knew was pointless. “What do you think of him?”

“Your father?” Selene gave a small shrug. “He seems pleasant enough. A good negotiator, and also very quick. He saw how you were setting up to slam Kinneman with your Drovni-Kalib question to Colonel Kolodny and cut you off before you could do so.” She considered. “Though he does know you, so of course he would have an awareness of your methods. What exactly is his job, if I may ask?”

“You already said it,” I told her. “Negotiator. Though I believe he usually just calls himself a Fixer.

“That sounds like the kind of title that would be used by a criminal organization.”

I felt my stomach tighten. “Yes,” I agreed soberly. “It does.”

Abruptly her pupils went all stricken. “Oh, Gregory,” she breathed. “I didn’t mean—are you saying he’s a criminal?”

“No, no,” I hastened to assure her. “Well, maybe, depending on how you define the term, and whether or not you were on the losing side of a negotiation. But yes, he did start out in the Spiral’s criminal underground.”

“Is that why you were ashamed of him?”

“I wasn’t ashamed of him, exactly,” I said, trying to call back my emotions and mental state of those long-past years. “But my mom was worried about his safety, dealing with all those crime bosses, and I think I picked up on her stress.” I shrugged. “Though we were probably worried about nothing. Once he’d moved up the ladder to where he was dealing with only the top crime people they all recognized his value and none of them was going to risk losing that.”

“Especially since everyone else would be angry if violence was done to him?”

“Especially then,” I agreed. “Imagine a scenario where Gaheen sent Floyd to deliver a message to someone he was mad at. It would not be pleasant for the object of that lesson.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” she agreed soberly. Abruptly, her pupils frowned. “Did he work with Gaheen? Or Varsi, when we were still working for him?”

“I really don’t know,” I said. “Dad didn’t talk with me about his work, at least not when I was young. Anyway, at some point he started being noticed by corporations and governments, some of whom decided they could benefit from his fixer services. Gradually, he shifted into those more legitimate lines of work, and I gather he’s been there ever since.”

“And now he’s with the Icarus Group,” Selene said, her pupils going thoughtful. “I wonder why.”

“Or as Kinneman calls it, the Alien Portal Agency,” I said, the new title tasting sour on my tongue. “As my father used to say, Beware of any man, corporation, or country that keeps changing its name. I assume they brought him in to ease the transition between Graym-Barker and Kinneman.”

“So you think the admiral is going to be moved out?”

“I think he has been moved out,” I said. “Right now he’s doing a Ghost of Christmas Past impression to ease any nervousness the change in management might spark in the lower ranks.”

“I can see why people might be nervous,” Selene murmured. “The last time we were here, the humans certainly held the dominant position, but I could smell several aliens, as well. Kalixiri, mostly, but also some Crooea and Vyssiluyas. Now, all the nonhumans except Ixil seem to be gone.”

“Kinneman and his superiors trying to change the portals from Graym-Barker’s multispecies organization to something solely under Commonwealth control,” I said. “Maybe they’re even trying to turn it into something overtly military under direct EarthGuard auspices.”

“I don’t think that would sit well with the other species,” Selene warned.

“Understatement of the year,” I agreed grimly. “Especially the Kalixiri. Especially since Ixil was one of the people who brought the Icarus home to begin with and has risked his life numerous times to keep it here. I don’t suppose you smelled any resentment on his part during the meeting, did you?”

“Nothing clear enough to catch my attention,” she said, her pupils going a little unfocused as she thought back to our recent interactions with him. “Though if the shakeup happened weeks or months ago he may have simply accepted the situation.”

“Somehow, I don’t see Ixil accepting something like that,” I said. “Let’s keep an eye on him and see what we can pick up. McKell, too, of course.”

“I will.” Selene hesitated. “There’s one other possibility that occurs to me, Gregory, about your father’s presence here. They need us to analyze whatever the bioprobe brings up, and Kinneman surely knows that. Maybe your father was brought in to persuade you to continue cooperating with them.”

“Could be,” I admitted. “Though bringing him in for just one person seems like a waste of his talents.”

“Or else,” Selene added, “he came in to persuade Kinneman to keep you part of the team.”

I scowled at one of the room’s corners. Unfortunately, that one held a much higher level of possibility. Selene could talk about Kinneman needing us; but as the general himself had already pointed out, he only needed her.

Still, I’d pointed out in return that she was only interested in working with me, which Graym-Barker had surely already warned him about. The admiral had also undoubtedly realized that Kinneman and I were pretty well guaranteed to lock horns, especially after the Alainn mess. I could easily see Graym-Barker having spent a few of his last official minutes as head of the Icarus Group to call in my father in hopes of keeping Kinneman and me in our respective corners until the job was done.

“Or did the admiral and general miscalculate?” Selene asked quietly into my musings.

“You mean do my dad and I hate each other?” I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. We mostly get along all right. It’s just that our lives really don’t have much in common, and we’ve just sort of drifted apart.”

“This may be your chance to remedy that.”

“Assuming both of us want to do so,” I said. “Not sure we do.”

“Family is important, Gregory.”

“In principle, I agree,” I said. “In this case, not convinced.” I yawned and stood up. “But that’s a conversation for another day. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to turn in.”

“I am, too,” Selene said, also standing up. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I figure we’ll need at least one more day, maybe two, to check out the DeepSix and run some simulations,” I told her as I backed toward the door to my bedroom. “Probably another day of simulations after that, and then we should be ready.”

“Kinneman won’t be happy if you drag it out,” Selene warned.

“I don’t think Kinneman’s ever happy,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’m not doing any of this to irritate him. Well, not solely to irritate him, anyway. The minute I think we’re ready we’ll let him know he can get this show on the road.”

“All right,” Selene said, finally starting to move toward her own bedroom. Apparently she’d needed to hear some assurances before letting me go. “Sleep well, Gregory.”

“You, too, Selene.”

But once the show was finished, I told myself darkly as I closed the bedroom door behind me, it might be time to reevaluate our place in the scheme of things.

And if my father had truly been hired to keep us with the Icarus Group, this might be one of the few jobs to end up in his failure column.



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