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CHAPTER NINETEEN


It was full night by the time we got back to the Pollux portal. We didn’t see anyone as we staggered along, but Selene reported that a group of humans and Narchners had arrived. Given the lack of badgeman-style hue and cry accompanying their arrival, I was pretty sure that was Balic’s cleanup crew. I got the hatch open and sent Selene inside, and between her pulling and me pushing, we got Dent through the gravity transition with a minimum level of effort on our part and a mostly minimum level of groaning on his.

“Couple of cracked ribs,” I told him as I systematically fingered his various bones through his skin, wishing I had a proper medical scanner. “No full breaks, so no risk of a punctured lung. Considering how many times you got hit on the head and face, you also might have a mild concussion. Too many cuts and bruises to count.”

“Trust me—I know where they all are,” Dent assured me, a ghost of almost-humor peeking through the bottle of painkillers we’d poured down him as he rocked gently in his hammock. I’d reconfigured it on its stand so that he would be lying mostly flat on the mesh, but I doubted even the slight curve the hammock imposed on his body was particularly good for his injuries. Once we had him settled I could go back to Popanilla and bring back one of the camping mattresses I’d brought for Ixil, but for now this would have to do. “You sure that right ankle isn’t broken? It feels like it’s broken.”

“Pretty sure, yeah,” I said. “Looks like a strain, maybe a sprain. Did someone kick you there?”

He snorted. “Fell over my own feet trying to run from his thugs.”

“Ah,” I said. “All things considered, I think you got off pretty easy. What in the name of sanity made you think it was a good idea to get cozy with someone like Francisc Pacadacz?”

“I didn’t,” Dent said grimly. “I was hired to deliver the gems to someone else. I’m guessing Pacadacz tumbled to the arrangement and decided to cut himself in.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to just hand over the gems?”

“And get myself in trouble with both ends of my original deal?” Dent countered. “Besides, Pacadacz didn’t want the jewelry. Well, not just the jewelry. He wanted the name of the supplier.”

“Which you chose not to give him?” Selene asked, kneeling down beside Dent’s hammock stand and offering him a tall glass of water and a bowl of vegetable twists and roast meat strips she’d put together from his supply cabinet.

“Of course not,” Dent said, easing one of the meat strips gingerly between his swollen lips. “No, I never claimed to be a hero. The problem was that once he heard who it was, he got the brilliant idea that he could send me back to him as a warning. You see the kind of shape he wanted that warning to be in.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want a message like that to be misunderstood,” I said grimly. “So who is this supplier?”

He rattled off a name I didn’t recognize. “I gather he and Pacadacz are rivals or something,” he said. “Or maybe they were sometime in the past. Some of these feuds go back decades.”

“Easy to let that happen,” I said, wincing at the memories of some of my own past failings. “I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner.”

“Me, too,” Dent said. “I suppose we’re lucky you showed up before Pacadacz decided to start cutting off fingers.”

Selene winced, and I saw the revulsion in her pupils. “Well, severed body parts are sort of a traditional warning to your rivals,” I said, frowning. There’d been something else in his tone just then . . . 

I focused on the fingers digging out Selene’s meat and veggie pieces. They looked normal . . . but there was something just a bit off-kilter with the ones on his right hand. I looked back at his face.

To find his eyes steady on me. “So,” I said, nodding toward his right hand. “The remote control is in your hand, isn’t it? It’s the”—I flicked another look at the hand—“first and second fingers and the thumb.”

“I’m impressed,” Dent said, a hint of reluctance in his eyes. Clearly, this wasn’t a secret he shared very often. “Most people can’t see the difference even when they know.”

“It helps when you have one of your own,” I said, lifting my left arm a bit.

“How did it happen?” Selene asked.

“An accident.” Dent’s throat tightened briefly with memory. “A stupid accident, actually. Lost all but my little finger. Anyway. I’d already been playing the Weston Dent card with people, trying to make them think I wasn’t working alone, and while I was waiting for my hand to be ready for the prosthetics I realized that if I worked it right I could do more than just talk about him.”

“So you had a control system put in and created a bunch of remote DubTrubs as your backup,” I said, nodding. “So there never was a Weston Dent?”

He shook his head. “One hundred percent made up. But like I said, it was a card that was worth playing.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Speaking of cards and playing, you two are taking this rabbit hole thing awfully damn well. Not to mention finding it and figuring out how it works.” He paused. “Unless you already knew?”

“We’ll get to us later,” I said. “Right now, let’s start with you.”

“Or perhaps with Dr. Riley,” Selene murmured.

“Who?” Dent asked.

“The dead man in the photo you showed me,” I said, letting my gaze harden. “You do remember him, don’t you?”

A flicker of fresh pain crossed his face. “Way too well,” he said quietly. “I just never knew his name.”

“Well, now you do,” I said. “Tell us about him.”

For a moment Dent was silent, as if gathering his thoughts, or maybe trying to decide how much of the story he was going to tell us and how much he was going to conveniently forget.

He was welcome to try. Selene was kneeling right beside him, her eyelashes beating rhythmically as she sampled his scent. The minute he veered off the truth into lies she would know it.

“And before you start,” I added, “remember that we just saved your life.”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder,” he said. “I wasn’t planning to lie, you know.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said. “On the other hand, I’ve seen a lot of such noble resolutions go off the rails into the weeds. Though I’m sure yours won’t. Please; continue.”

Again he took a moment, though I suspected this one was mostly to annoy me after my interruption. “I was working on Shiroyama Island as a hiking guide,” he said. “I was—well, I guess it’s not a secret. I was tagging people to rob.”

“Like Dr. Riley?” I asked.

Dent snorted. “Tell you the truth, I barely even noticed him. He was the academic sort, all archaeology or sociology or whatever. That type never has anything worth stealing. No, what caught my eye was the Patth hanging around the lodge.”

I pricked up my ears. “This the one in your pictures?”

He twitched. “The—? You got into my safe?

“After a fashion,” I said. “We had to take the back off.”

For a moment he glared at me. But the sheer expenditure of energy was too much for him. With a sigh he subsided. “Yeah, the one in the picture,” he growled. “I wish to hell I’d ignored him. I should have just let them—”

He broke into a coughing fit, each spasm sending a flicker of pain across his face. “When are those painkillers supposed to kick in?” he asked when he was breathing more or less normally again.

“Any time,” I promised. “But bear in mind these are just your first-aid kit pills, so don’t expect miracles. So you were watching the Patth . . . ?”

“And his two Iykam sidekicks,” Dent said. “After it was all over and I was able to think about it, I realized they were always in the lodge because they were trying to stay hidden from your friend Riley. But at the time I just thought they were acting squirrelly because they were sitting on a stack of commarks or valuables and were worried about thieves.”

“Which made you watch them even closer.”

“Yeah.” He gestured with a fumbling hand, and Selene helped him take a drink. “Then, one day, just as I was finishing up a tour, I spotted the two Iykams hustling Riley into the forest along one of the lesser-used trails. Half leading him, half carrying him. The Patth was bringing up the rear, looking around and behind him like he was making sure no one was following them.”

“So, naturally, you did.”

“Yeah,” Dent said ruefully. “There was another trail that would keep me more or less running parallel to them for the first part of the hike. I got on that one and paced them, wondering if this was a deal gone sour or if something else was going on. They were nearly to one of the turns, and I didn’t want to lose them, so I left my trail and moved toward them just in time to see them leave theirs. I followed them the rest of the way . . . ”

He paused again and took another drink. “When they finally stopped, it was at a full-blown campsite that Riley must have set up days or weeks earlier. I guess he’d been working out there all that time, and the Patth and his pals had been right on top of him. They probably headed out to the site at night, after he’d quit for the evening, to check on his progress. Riley was smart, though, and kept all his documents in that monster Brinx-Chakrars safe. You said you took its back off?”

“It was a fake,” I told him. “Cheap safe rigged to look like a Brinx-Chakrars. Didn’t you wonder how Riley could have gotten something that heavy out there by himself?”

From the look on Dent’s face it was clear that thought had never even crossed his mind. “Well, damn,” he muttered. “Clever little flink. Anyway, I watched while the Iykams drugged him with something—with something else, I mean, since they must already have dosed him with something to get him out there. They asked him some questions I wasn’t close enough to hear, then the Iykams hauled him to his feet again and they all trooped over to the scree field.

“And when they got there, the Patth pushed on what I thought was a chunk of rock and opened the rabbit hole.”

He shook his head, and I could see an echo of the memories flick across his face. “They all went inside. The two Iykams had to shove Riley in, but they managed it. I waited until they were out of sight, then headed over and peeked in. I was just in time to see them climb the last few steps around the big ball and do their rolling entrance thing into the little ball.”

“We call them the receiver module and the launch module,” I put in. “If you care.”

“Who calls it that?” Dent asked, eyeing me closely. “You? Icarus?”

“We’re still talking about you,” I reminded him.

“Sure,” he said. “Well, I have to admit that watching them walk around was a kick in the teeth,” he said. “I’d never seen artificial gravity that could change direction that way. I was watching them roll Riley through the hatchway and thinking about maybe it was time to get out of there when the second Iykam in the big ball pulled out a gun before going inside with the others.”

Dent’s swollen lips pressed themselves into a thin line. “I don’t know what the Talariac Drive did to the bounty hunter business. But for everyone else out there, it was like getting hit in the face over and over again. I can’t even count all the shippers who went out of business as their customers disappeared. Or how many maintenance yards stripped out eighty percent of their mechanics, or how many cafés and bars around those yards shuttered up. I didn’t like the Patth anyway. And now one of them was pulling a gun on someone?”

“So you went in?” Selene asked gently.

“I went in,” Dent said, giving her a lopsided smile. “Yes, Easton Dent, professional thief and smuggler, suddenly going all brave and noble. And stupid. I rolled inside—not nearly as cleanly as they had—and headed around the inside in the opposite direction they’d taken. I guess I figured that if they came out they’d go back the way they came and might not see me up on what would be the ceiling.”

“And it worked,” I said.

He seemed to draw back. “How do you know?”

“I saw the pictures you took,” I reminded him. “They showed one of the Iykam bodies out in the receiver module, while the other Iykam and the Patth were in the launch module. That means one of them got all the way across the receiver without seeing you.”

He huffed out a breath. “You’re smarter than you look,” he said. “Yes, I’d just gotten to the top of the inside when the Iykam with the gun came rolling back out and headed for the exit. Going to stand guard, I guess, and never even bothered to look up. I had my DubTrub with me—I always carried it out on the trail, just in case. I waited until he’d gone outside and then walked the rest of the way around to the little ball opening.

“The Patth and Iykam were crouched over Riley, the Patth pointing around at the various bits of equipment and asking questions. Riley was in pretty bad shape, but whatever drug they’d given him was working, and he was able to answer. That was how I learned how to run the thing, with the spike and all.” He raised his eyebrows. “I suppose you have another name for that, too?”

“The extension arm,” I said.

“Right. Anyway, the Patth finished the interrogation and said something to the Iykam, who pulled out his own gun and handed it over. The Patth pointed it down at Riley . . . ”

Dent’s eyes seemed to drift to something an infinite distance away. “And I shot him.”

For a long moment none of us spoke. I waited, watching Dent’s eyes slowly come back to focus. “The Iykam grabbed the gun and turned around to aim it at me. I shot him. I looked back across the big ball, figuring the shots would have drawn the other Iykam’s attention. They had. He was already inside and charging toward me. So I shot him, too.”

“It was in defense of another person, Easton,” Selene said quietly. “It’s nothing you should feel guilty about.”

“Yeah, that’s what I tell myself,” Dent said. “Every day.”

“What about Dr. Riley?” I asked. I remembered the first time I’d killed, too, and just because it had been legally justified hadn’t made it easier to live with. The faster I got Dent out of this memory, the better.

“He was too far gone,” Dent said. “I don’t know. The drug mix they’d given him, maybe, or some kind of reaction. The way the Patth pulled that gun told me he hadn’t figured on Riley living past the interrogation anyway. I went inside, told him he was safe, and asked what I could do to help. He looked at me and said, Find Gregory Roarke. Find Icarus. And then he died.”

“I wonder how he had your name,” Selene said, looking thoughtfully at me. “I wouldn’t think a researcher would have heard of you.”

“We’ll have to ask about that,” I said. “Go on, Dent.”

“Well, I sat there for a while, trying to figure out what to do,” Dent said. “All I knew was that I was sitting in an alien artifact that had weird artificial gravity, and that I’d better find out if there was something more to this thing. If I’d just killed a Patth for nothing . . . anyway. I’d heard Riley’s instructions on how to work it, so I went over to the spike and rode it up. There was this—well, you know what it’s like. And I ended up here.”

He waved an arm around the Pollux receiver module. “I was about as freaked out as I’ve ever been in my whole life. First thing I did when I hit the ground was head straight back to the little ball and see if I could get back to Popanilla. I did the round trip three more times, just to be sure, before I tried opening the hatch and seeing where I was. Nothing looked familiar, so I took some pictures and headed back to Popanilla to run everything through image match.”

He looked down at his hands. “And while my info pad was chewing on the problem, I buried the bodies.”

“In the little open area between the portal and the safe?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t want to mark the graves in case someone came looking. But I know where they are. Oh, and before I did that I collected all of Riley’s data and notes and buried them with him.”

“How did you open the safe?” Selene asked.

“It was already open,” Dent said. “The Patth must have done that before I got there. Probably part of his first interrogation was getting the combination. Anyway, you can figure out the rest. I found out this end was in the Erymant Temple on Fidelio, set up a camp of my own on Popanilla, and started using the rabbit hole for smuggling.”

He waved a hand at me. “I also started looking for you. In hindsight, that seems to have been a really bad idea. The rest you know. Your turn. Who’s Icarus?”

“Icarus isn’t a who, it’s a what,” I said. I didn’t know the rest, of course—far from it. But there was a fairly good chance that I now knew most of what Dent could tell me. Time to shoot some information the other direction. “It’s a secret group that’s been investigating these portals since the first one was found a few years ago. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line the Patth found out about it and have been trying to get their hands on one ever since.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a frown form in Selene’s pupils. That wasn’t exactly the way it had all worked, of course. But it was close enough, and there was no point in making the story more complicated than I had to.

As my father used to say, Dragging someone through the weeds is a good way for both of you to get lost.

“Yeah, I can see why,” Dent said. “Someone figures out this tech, and the Talariac Drive gets left in the dust of history. So where are they?”

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Where are the Patth?” Dent repeated patiently. “Why aren’t they here? I mean, it’s been almost five months since the one I killed found the Popanilla end of the rabbit hole. How come they haven’t already swooped in on it?”

I looked at Selene. That was a damn good question. “I have no idea,” I said. “You’re right—a swarm of Patth should have been on the scene before you’d even finished swapping out the lock on Riley’s safe. Someone must have dropped the ball.”

“Whoever it was, I hope they shot him,” Dent growled. “One less Patth in the universe.”

“I’d be careful about saying things like that in public,” I warned. “Especially given the glass house you’re in at the moment.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dent said, his words suddenly sounding a little uncertain. “Probably the painkillers.”

“Could be,” I said, looking questioningly at Selene. She nodded; the meds were indeed running deep enough to alter his scent. “Let’s tuck you in and let you get some sleep.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” Dent slurred.

“Don’t worry,” I soothed him. “I’m going back to Popanilla to get some sleeping gear for Selene and me, but I’ll be back.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“They’ll live just long enough to wish they hadn’t,” I promised. Pulling the Blago 6mm I’d taken from Balic from my belt, I checked the mag and the safety and handed it to Selene. “Selene will stay on guard until I get back.”

“Okay,” Dent said. His eyelids fluttered once, and then closed.

“Dent?” I asked softly.

No response.

“He’s asleep,” Selene confirmed, turning the Blago over in her hands and testing its balance. “We don’t need bedding, you know. It’s warm enough in here, and empty food containers make a comfortable enough palliasse.”

“After a day like this, I’m interested in a little more than just comfortable enough,” I told her, levering myself to my feet. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“You do realize it’s still at least a two hour hike to Trailhead and back.”

“Yes, I should have asked them to move the town farther east when I was there,” I said. “Too late now. Anyway, I also want to make a StarrComm call or two.”

“You going to bring the admiral up to date?”

“I might,” I said. “Or I might leave that job for Ixil.”

“Ah,” Selene said, her eyes steady on me. “So who are you going to call?”

“You heard Dent’s question,” I reminded her. “Why haven’t the Patth swarmed Popanilla in general and Shiroyama Island in particular?”

“And you’re going to ask the Patth?”

I pursed my lips. “Actually,” I said, “I am.”

* * *

Ixil was nowhere to be seen when I rolled out through Castor’s hatch. I gave a soft call and he emerged into view through the trees at the edge of the scree field. “Did you find Dent?” he asked as I walked over to him.

“Yes,” I said. “Unfortunately, someone else found him first.”

I gave him a quick rundown of the day’s adventures. Aside from Dent’s general well-being, he seemed mostly interested in the part about Francisc Pacadacz and the off-shuffling of his mortal coil. Though he didn’t say anything, I had the impression that Pacadacz had already been on his personal radar.

I’d never heard what Ixil had been doing before he joined the Icarus Group. Someday I’d have to look into that.

“Anyway, I’m heading into Trailhead for some extra supplies,” I finished. “I don’t think we want to move Dent right now, which means we’re going to have three mouths to feed in there. I’ll need one more camping mattress, too, unless you want to donate yours.”

“Since a trip to Trailhead is necessary anyway, I hardly think such a sacrifice would be worthwhile,” Ixil said, a bit dryly. “But I’m happy to go instead if you’d like. It sounds like you’ve already had all the exercise you need for one day.”

“Thanks, but with Floyd and his buddies poking around the island I’d rather you stay hidden. As my father used to say, The best hole cards are the ones no one knows you have.

“True enough,” he said. “But they won’t recognize me or place any significance on my appearance if they see me. They will recognize you.”

“In which case I’ll just have to spin them a new story,” I said with a shrug. “Don’t worry, I’ve got several to choose from.”

“Very well,” Ixil said. He didn’t sound convinced, but he could tell I’d made up my mind. “I assume you’ll want Pix along to guide you back?”

“That’s okay—I know the route now,” I said. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

I was actually a lot less confident about my navigational skills than I’d made it sound. After all, I’d only done the round trip to Trailhead once, and half of that had been in pre-dawn darkness.

But I had a good eye for detail, and maneuvering through the forest turned out to be a lot like finding my way through the warren of twisting streets and alleys of an urban criminal sanctuary. I found the Scree View trail without trouble, and reached Trailhead with every confidence that I would find my way back to Castor with equal ease.

More importantly, I could now make my StarrComm call without the risk of Pix eavesdropping and relaying the details to Ixil when I returned.

The StarrComm center was more crowded now in late afternoon than it had been during my first early morning visit. I checked out the line, then left and did my camp gear shopping, figuring the place would probably clear out some as we approached the mealtime hour. When I returned half an hour later, the wait turned out to be barely three minutes.

It took me another five minutes of hunting through the directories to find the number I needed. I punched it in, and found myself talking to a calm but stiff-faced receptionist. My name got me past him to the next tier’s version, and through her to the final stop.

“Name?” the gatekeeper asked.

“Gregory Roarke,” I said. “My name should be familiar to—”

“I’m told you wish to leave a message.”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “A message, and an invitation. I assume you can record?”

“I’m already doing so,” she said. “The recipient?”

I braced myself. As my father used to say, The only time it makes sense to poke the bear is when you’re already up against the tiger. “One of your chiefs,” I said. “Sub-Director Nask.”


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