Cando and Kara vowed to be “ferocious” today in spite of what happened. Now, Cando wanted to go hard at Nimes. Yet he resisted. Nimes grew up in a culture where total victory had been the only outcome for centuries. Where the opposition were poorly armed and disorganized colonists. He didn’t fight in the civil war; instead, Nimes abandoned Earth and hid among the stars with other malcontents. Was this man worth the energy?

  He didn’t have to pursue the matter. A delegate from Earth spoke.

  “Actually, I find both the strategy and its projections refreshing,” said the only woman on the panel. She commanded fighters for the winning Warner Alliance. “Earth’s war was especially brutal because both sides fought with the same weapons, tech, and philosophy. The WA prevailed because we were first to adapt new techniques and make compromises to our military principles.” She nodded with respect to her former enemy, a United Chancellor Front General, who sat to her right. “I appreciate a creative approach to an enemy only a few of us in this room have ever fought.”

  She knocked her knuckles against the table, as did several others, nodding in assent. Nimes did neither. He also didn’t stand against Cando’s subsequent recommendations.

  The session marched onward another two hours, allotting time for questions submitted from the outer ring. For a first session, Cando thought it went well. He sensed respect but also an air of dread at the massive industrial project which lay ahead. He had yet to mention one word about ground combat and its requirements. Those details would surely terrify the audience.

  When the arbiter called a two-hour break for luncheon, Cando accepted congratulations and pats on the back from his Talon brothers. He reminded them of what was next.

  “I hope you two are ready,” he said. “Colonels, you were able to sit on your asses all morning and play nice. You’re going to show them what it’s really like to fight those savages.”

  “We’ll make you proud,” Exeter said.

  He focused on Yusef:

  “Remember, my friend. No propaganda, no drama. The straight facts will terrify them.”

  “I’ll silence the thespian inside me,” Yusef said. “Col. Woolsey and I are going to review the program over lunch.”

  “Yes, please. Exeter, I’m surprised I didn’t see Minister Cooper on the outer ring. I thought he’d submit comments on my fleet plans. Or just open his mouth and shout at me.”

  Exeter smiled. “He decided to start today with the technologists committee. He’s afraid demands for Aeternan tech will come early and often.”

  “Makes sense. That’s where he has the most leverage.”

  “He knows he can’t impact fleet plans, so he’s going where he can do the most …” Exeter paused, as if he’d said too much.

  “Damage?”

  “He wouldn’t see it that way.”

  “I hope he’s been playing nice. That’s my wife’s committee. Have a good lunch. Both of you.”

  Cando tried to leave the conference room without delay, but delegates sidled up to him. They hoped to have a private word or perhaps pick his brain over lunch. He declined their requests with a discipline Kara taught him. He replied with the standard “I have a lunch commitment,” and received no pushback.

  To his surprise, no one mentioned the mysterious death reported shipboard early in the morning. As Capt. Dunston predicted, the gentle message created neither panic nor gossip.

  He texted Kara through the tablet and waited for a response. The sessions were designed to end simultaneously, but there were no rules that a vibrant dialogue must be cut off mid-stream. Perhaps her group’s morning business had not finished.

  “Col. Aleksanyan?”

  He looked up from his device. A familiar face awaited in the corridor outside the conference room.

  “Mr. Philbin.”

  The Aston James’s Chief of Security, Peter Philbin, greeted Cando with a wide smile and an extended hand, which Cando accepted.

  “Your session went well, Colonel?”

  “It did. You have news?”

  Philbin did not drop the smile.

  “If you don’t mind, we should talk in private.”

  “Have you contacted my wife?”

  “Not now, Colonel. Follow me please. Smile, if you don’t mind.”

  19

  K ARA MIGHT HAVE ENJOYED the spirited dialogue on the technologists subcommittee if she wasn’t sitting in the same room with the two leading suspects in Ham’s murder. Granted, Dr. Harrold had yet to report on his autopsy’s findings, but Kara knew what they’d show. Ham did not die of natural causes. The two men whom he was seen arguing with in his final hours – Michael Cooper and Amayas Knight – sat in the outer ring listening to the thirty committee members.

  Michael squirmed from the outset, his chair a bit tight for a man of his massive girth. He bit his tongue on many occasions but fired off a steady barrage of comments to the arbiter, the first of which provoked heated discussion about worm drives halfway through the session. Two delegates suggested a new era of mobile worm travel could become a menace if unregulated. They liked how the Fulcrum contained a series of beacons along its convoluted network through the former Collectorate.

  Might wormhole travelers be required to follow beacons in the future? Or should this technology be limited to military use?

  Questions like this, often connected to ethics and economics, sparked lively discussion. The committee’s size assured each menu item took longer to sort through. The worm discussion bandied about in a circle until a delegate from Catalan asked for direct input from the room’s two “leading” tech innovators in worm travel: Michael and Amayas.

  “Have either of you developed a system capable of monitoring wormhole traffic?”

  The rules permitted direct questions to the outer ring, but observers were not required to answer on the spot. Kara knew the truth about these men. They did not create the worm drives their ships used.

  The Salvation terrorists, through their powerful but psychotic leader James Bouchet, first developed systems for ships to create their own wormholes. The tech allowed Salvation to raid facilities and cause destruction. This fact entered the discussion early.

  Amayas, then known as Valentin Bouchet, stood on the bridge alongside his brother James, but no one in this room knew his true identity other than Kara and Michael. He refined his brother’s systems for the warships, while Michael spent years showing off the spoils he inherited when he took over Aeterna. Michael did, however, oversee a critical new technology. Kara saw it in action one night in Promise: A wormhole tracking system warned of a ship en route to Aeterna. Piloted, as it turned out, by Amayas. The ironies never ceased.

  “I’m afraid such a system has eluded me,” Amayas said. “It took all my wits to establish a simplified user interface for the drive itself. But the technology is not beyond your grasp.”

  He and Michael sat on opposite sides of the room, no doubt by design. She wondered if Amayas knew about the Aeternans’ tracker. It didn’t come up in the immediate aftermath of his arrival that night.

  “Minister Cooper,” the delegate said. “Do the Aeternans have this capability?”

  Kara caught his eye. Would he dare to lie, knowing he’d be exposed? Perhaps he had prepared lies upon lies. Exeter said Michael didn’t want to share.

  “Aeternans always got a lot of irons in the fire,” he said. “But we’re stretched thin these days. Got a gazillion prototypes that don’t amount to a hill of beans. I’d love to help you. Damn, I would.”

  You sorry cudfrucker.

  He looked at her with an air of invincibility. Was he egging her on to challenge the proclamation? He must have entered with a strategy. The one Aeternan on the committee, Rikhi Syed, followed up Michael’s response.

  “As my Minister notes, we are always experimenting with new technologies, but you can well imagine the frustrations of trying to be innovators. We run up against many unexpected barriers.”

  The smarmy Information Minister pissed off Kara more than Michael. The Minister might not have received a committee slot, but Syed was a loyal political proxy.

  If Ham was here, he’d shred them both. She refused to let them slide. Kara raised her hand until the arbiter acknowledged her.

  “I must admit I’m a bit confused. I was present in the Aeternan capital the night this man,” she said, pointing to Amayas, “arrived to inform the Scylla crew of the assault on Hokkaido. The city launched security measures before his landing. Minister Cooper said they were tracking Mr. Knight’s ship through worm. In fact, in the days before this occurred, the Minister actually boasted of having a method to head off a wormhole attack. He said, ‘I can find the ants no matter how deep they dig.’”

  She felt the mood shift when all eyes focused on Michael and his mouthpiece.

  “Minister,” the arbiter said, “would you please respond to the Ambassador’s claim?”

  “Not a problem.” Michael stood. “I like Kara. She’s a firecracker, as my granddaddy used to say. But I understand why she’s confused. We were tracking Amayas’s ship incoming because his Scramjet was registered to us. Our early-warning system recognized the transponder.”

  “Did you enact security measures, Minister?”

  “Sure enough. You see, we lost that Scramjet in an accident a few years ago. Turns out, Mr. Knight’s people stumbled upon it in space and retrofitted that sucker. But we didn’t know this until later, so we treated it like a threat. Simple misunderstanding.”

  Kara crossed her arms. This man’s audacity …

  “What of your boast?” The arbiter said. “Did you earlier claim to have this technology?”

  “Yeah. I gotta cop to that one. I talk out of my ass sometimes. I wasn’t an honest man that day.”

  “Thank you, Minister. Ambassador Aleksanyan, do you wish to follow up?”

  “Arbiter, I think it’s obvious the Minister doesn’t want to touch this subject today, so I’ll defer it to later. But he knows I’m not the only witness to those events. I hope he’ll reconsider his position.”

  Michael shrugged to feign innocence. Rikhi Syed jumped in.

  “Minister Cooper and the Aeternan delegation came here with open hearts and giving hands. We will fully disclose all our relevant assets.”

  Oh, Mr. Syed. He has trained you well.

  Why risk exposure? The Aeternans had a device they could sell to thirty-nine planets for a fortune. It would help revolutionize space travel. Michael’s motivation stumped her. Was Exeter right? Was it simple paranoia? Ham often said Michael was a poor General. At the moment, he didn’t seem like much of a businessman, either.

  Another delegate raised her hand. This woman had not said a word all morning. She had tied up her long, black hair into a hefty bun and wore a beaded necklace over her floral dress.

  “The arbiter recognizes the Ambassador from Bolivar.”

  “Thank you. My name is Ola Osteen. I serve Queen Marta Leevo.” The woman cupped her hands and leaned forward, her eyes scanning the length and breadth of the table.

  “The Bolivan delegation was thrilled to receive an invitation to this committee. Our world is the least developed of the former colonies. Our unemployment and poverty likely rank highest. We were one of the first signatories to the Inventor’s Alliance, and we remain devoted to him. I am honored to sit in his presence.

  “Access to new technologies is more important to Bolivans than anyone. We see opportunities for thriving trade for our minerals, handcrafted furniture, and textiles. The Collectorate overlooked our potential, and shipping lanes bypassed our system. We believe wormhole drivers can change the future. I hope the skepticism many have voiced about commercial use of worm drivers will not deter us from finding a solution to make them widely available.”

  Knuckles tapped the table. Ambassador Osteen acknowledged her supporters. Her eyes lingered on Kara, who returned a generous smile.

  Kara thought the woman made a smart move. She reminded everyone of the inequities among the forty worlds and, Kara hoped, reminded Michael of how critical a well-regulated worm system would be for those most in need. Would he take her words to heart and return tomorrow with a new version of recent history?

  She wasn’t pinning her hopes on it. She did, however, note the time on her tablet. Luncheon fast approached.

  Her friend Joseph Mogandi of Zwahili Kingdom raised his hand.

  “Thank you, Arbiter. We have covered many issues this morning, yet we have only touched the surface. These matters will not resolve without weeks of thoughtful negotiation. But in light of recent events, I suggest we tread carefully in matters of widespread tech distribution. By a show of hands, how many on this committee believe every planet’s technological advances should be shared openly with all worlds?”

  In a vacuum, Kara might have raised her hand. Yet the ethical debates which raged all morning raised doubts. She was not alone: Only four – one being Ola Osteen – voted for universal sharing.

  “I do not wish these results to reflect the will of the committee,” Joseph said. “It was an informal survey to make a point. If we are to join in common purpose, we will have to establish rules and regulations. The matter will be rife with motivations founded in tribalism, xenophobia, and greed. Serving people in poverty is one thing.” He nodded toward the Bolivan. “Serving people with technology that is ill-suited for their culture and serves only a select few is another. We must be cognizant of these factors as we move forward.”

  A smattering of applause from the otherwise placid outer ring ensued. With no response from the committee, the arbiter gaveled the opening session closed and announced lunch.

  Kara grabbed Amayas on the way out.

  “Did you know?”

  “About?” The Inventor said.

  “The Aeternans’ wormhole tracker.”

  “Something might have been mentioned, but I’m not sure. It was a chaotic time. Yes? Have a fine meal, Ambassador. Say hello to your husband. We should have dinner sometime.”

  Amayas left her behind with purpose in his step. He did not acknowledge Michael or his Information Minister, who approached the exit. However, Michael did wink at Kara then whispered to Syed on the way out. Another delegate approached Kara.

  “Excuse me,” Ola Osteen said. “I don’t wish to hold you up.”

  “Ambassador Osteen. I thought you made a strong case.”

  “It’s hard climbing the ladder.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to offer my condolences. I understand the delegate who died last night was Hokki.”

  Kara’s neck tensed.

  “I wasn’t aware that information had been made public.”

  “I heard it from another Hokki during our first session break. I hope I’m not stepping out of bounds.”

  Shit. She and Cando told the delegates to keep quiet pending a public announcement of Ham’s identity. Loose lips will wag anyway.

  “Ambassador, I hope you’ll respect my position and not discuss this with anyone. We want to respect our friend’s privacy.”

  “Of course. It’s all very sad. Here, on the eve of history itself. My word is my bond, Ambassador.”

  Ola Osteen bowed her head and rubbed her hand over her beaded necklace then gracefully sauntered into the corridor.

  Kara felt a headache coming on. Maybe a quiet lunch with Cando might shift the momentum. She wasn’t ten feet down the corridor before those plans altered. A young man in a green/white tunic flagged her down. He spoke in a hushed tone.

  “Ambassador Aleksanyan, I’m Security Chief Philbin’s deputy. I’ve been asked to escort you to a private location.”

  “Why?”

  “Your husband, Chief Philbin, and Capt. Dunston will be there.”

  She didn’t have to ask whether there was news. The secret nature of the meeting confirmed what she knew from the outset.

  Moments later, she entered an office adjacent to the medical center. Cando hugged her. Dunston, Philbin, and Dr. Harrold waited close by.

  “Was he?” She whispered to Cando.

  “I don’t know. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “OK then.” She faced the doctor. “Do you know how he died?”

  “Let’s everyone have a seat,” Capt. Dunston said. “Leandro will explain his findings, and then we must discuss our next steps. This is more complicated than we expected. Leandro?”

  The doctor raised a holo from his plate. A graphic representation of the human body pulsated with red blotches along the spine and upward into the brain stem. Crooked red streams radiated through the entire brain.

  “Ham Cortez died from a virus which attacked and shut down his nervous system. I cannot identify the virus. It does not exist in the Collectorate database.”

  “What does that mean?” Kara said.

  “There are several possibilities. It’s a mutation of an existing viral strain; it was engineered; or it’s an alien pathogen.”

  “Engineered. Like a weapon?”

  The doctor shrugged. “I can’t rule it out. It will have to undergo far more rigorous study than what I can manage on the Aston James.”

  Cando held her close.

  “Is there any way of knowing how Ham came into contact with it?”

  “Actually, there is.”

  He pointed to the graphic, which showed a green pulse near Ham’s right wrist.

  “There’s a spot about three millimeters across between his thumb and forefinger. The virus entered there.”

  “Damn. We thought someone poisoned him, but through his food or drink. Could it have been transferred by something as simple as a handshake?”

  Philbin entered the conversation.

  “That’s our working theory.”

  Shit, shit, shit. Kara wished she hadn’t been right. There was a murderer onboard. Why Ham?

  “It’s complicated,” Philbin continued. “Tell them, Doc.”

  “The virus did not impact the Captain until it reached the brain stem. Sometime thereafter, it attacked his nervous system like an army of nanobots might. He probably felt dizzy, like he was about to faint. Then he simply stopped.”

  “Did you find nanobots?” Cando asked.