Virtues of War (32 page)

He shook his head. “Mine wasn’t close enough for the test, but this one became available.”

She glanced around. “Could use a maid.”

He indicated her mechanized legs. “You don’t actually think you’ll be able to blend in with those?”

“No.” She glanced around and sighed. “I just wanted to see Earth. I can’t stick around to bail you out this time, though.”

At least she’d finally seen sense. The mission was too important to risk it for the sake of her pride, or even for her anger. He addressed the other agents.

“The security blockers should have worked for your jump, but we’ll want to wait a few days to be sure the Terrans don’t pick up on it. We all need to lie low until then. Two of you can stay here, and two can come to my place.”

It was hard to get a smile stretched across his face as he walked slowly down the familiar corridor. Breeze’s apartment door loomed before him. As beautiful as she was, she had a thoroughly despicable personality and, despite his best efforts, he would never be attracted to her beyond the purely physical.

Breeze was used to taking whatever she wanted from men, and what he couldn’t afford, as a Centauri agent, was for her to get suspicious of him in any way. Yet the images of his destroyed home, and the faces of his murdered family, were fresh again in his mind. The last thing he needed was to have this repulsive Terran woman touch him again tonight.

The door opened at his knock. Soft light cast a warm, evening glow around the apartment and he had to look hard to spot Breeze over by her secure terminal. The screen lit her face as a cold, pale mask and she barely glanced up as he entered. He forced himself to stroll in casually, but immediately his senses went into overdrive, seeking out any new security devices.

Breeze looked as preoccupied as he’d ever seen her. Keeping close attention on his peripheral, he moved toward her and forced an expression onto his face that was curiosity mixed with amusement.

“Working late?”

She tore her eyes from the screen and looked up at him. Her stare was intense, and behind it he knew her mind was grappling with something. She leaned back in her chair, eyes never leaving his.

“How do you know if you can trust someone?” she said finally.

He shrugged and glanced slowly around the room, as if pondering his reply. Another scan revealed no hidden weapons, and the window at the far end past the couch was the best escape route if the door became blocked. “Time and experience,” he offered. “And by their actions.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Not a bit,” he said with a smile.

She folded her arms. “I’m serious.”

“Of course I do, Breeze.” He took another, testing step toward her. She didn’t flinch. “Why are you asking this?”

The intensity of her gaze grew almost frightening. Kete forced himself not to take a step back. He shifted his weight to ready an escape run, if required.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. Then, despite all his implants, despite all his intelligence, despite all his insights into human nature, Kete was completely surprised.

Tears began to stream down Breeze’s face. She quickly dropped her gaze and wiped her cheeks, but the shuddering of her body was impossible to suppress as the emotion flooded out.

Kete stood dumbstruck for a moment. His instinct was to move forward and comfort her, but his alert state was far too high to allow him to close the distance with an enemy. Still keeping his distance, he crouched enough to meet her eyes.

“Breeze, what’s wrong?” he asked, trying for concern. “What’s this all about?”

“I’m sorry.” She was struggling admirably to regain her composure. She wiped her cheeks again and reached out to take his hand. “I’m just not used to this.”

He let her grasp his fingers, eyes on her every movement.

“Used to what?”

She sniffed, laughing slightly. “Trusting someone.” She looked up at him again, eyes shining with a new emotion. “I do trust you, Kit.” She sounded as surprised as he was. “I really do. I think you might be the first ever.”

Senses on full alert had revealed no traps, and the look in her eyes was like that of his beloved Rupa, once upon a time. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but a cold part of him knew exactly what to do.

“I wasn’t lying,” he said. “I do trust you.” He smiled and gripped her hand with new strength. The cruelty of what he was about to do was justifiable in war, he told himself. After a pause, he spoke again. “And more than that, Charity, I love you.”

Breeze’s expression melted anew into tears, and she threw her arms around him. He held her tightly. She was crying, but he sensed these were tears of release. He figured he should say something, but having just committed the ultimate act of deceit, he couldn’t stomach more. Figuring that his Terran alter-ego was really more the strong, silent type anyway, he simply held her and let her slowly regain her composure.

When she pulled back she was grinning like a schoolgirl.

“I love you, Kit,” she said. “And it’s awesome.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “Is that why you were acting so strange when I came in?”

She blinked. “What?” She glanced at her screen. “Oh, no. I was just realizing how few people we can trust in this world, and I’m so glad I found you. Everyone else is a bastard, and can go fuck themselves.”

“I figured that was a given,” he replied, “but what prompted your epiphany?”

She nodded toward her terminal. “Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

“Of course.”

“That team of researchers Chuck interviewed has been trying to refine the science of the Dark Bomb, to build something we can actually control better,” she said. “And I just got an order to report my progress to Parliament.”

“Sounds pretty good so far.”

She shook her head angrily. “I just got orders to report to Parliament on the progress of their work, and those eggheads are still months behind.” She slammed her fist down on the console. “Honestly, how many times do I have to come down on them to get some damn progress? How hard can it be for scientists to do science?”

He sat down on the floor, coaxing her off her chair to sit facing him. She was too valuable an asset to be lost at this stage of the operation, so his concern for her career was suddenly genuine. He held one of her hands and stroked the stray wisps of hair from her face.

“If you’re in charge of this team,” he prodded, “can’t you push the blame down to them?”

“If I’d known in time, sure,” she answered, “but at this point I’ll have been expected by Parliament to have already
dealt
with any problems. What they want to hear is that all’s well. If it is, I’m golden. If it isn’t, I’m dead.”

His mind raced, knowing that her assessment was accurate, and literal. Terra didn’t take kindly to senior officials wasting State resources. Yet surely, as a mere commander, she wasn’t the highest-ranking officer involved. He thought back to their visit to the
Armstrong
.

“What about the ship CO?” he suggested. “He outranks you. The responsibility should be his.”

She nodded impatiently. “But positionally I’m senior, since I’m at headquarters and overall in charge. It just so happens that the ship selected for this project has a full captain for a commanding officer.”

Kete considered this, shifting absently to lean against the console as Breeze cuddled into him. Wrapping his arms around her warm body, he tried to think of an angle. In his short observation, Captain Lincoln had seemed like an idiot—a classic example of the old military adage, promoted a rank beyond his level of competency. It came as no surprise that Lincoln had missed his targets.

“Why was Lincoln talking so much about those awards he’d won?” he asked. “Do they count for much in the Research Squadron?”

“They shouldn’t,” Breeze scoffed. “But they certainly give Admiral Bush something to brag about at parties.”

“Do you think Bush might have played a discreet role in knocking your research off the rails?”

Abruptly Breeze sat up. “He better not have.” She turned to him with a new gleam in her eye. “But maybe… Let me check something.” She climbed back into her chair and began navigating her console. Kete rose to join her, but she paused and glanced at him with a smirk. “Sorry, honey. I trust you, but the State doesn’t quite yet.” She jutted her chin toward the nearby couch.

He sat down without comment, resting back comfortably while his senses locked into her electronic activity. Using her top-secret access code—a gem he recorded and tucked away for future use—she accessed the personal message file of Admiral Bush. That she could even do this stunned Kete, but he’d always suspected she’d have unusual access rights. A few quick searches isolated the messages between the admiral and Captain Lincoln.

There were dozens in the last month alone, and Breeze wisely narrowed her search to focus on the conversations that referenced Dark Bomb research. It was a painfully slow process, and while she accessed data in a linear fashion, Kete turned his own attention to reviewing the entire Bush account.

Almost immediately he noticed an oddity. The admiral corresponded with hundreds of different people, and some addresses appeared regularly in both his send and receive folders, but one address in particular dominated the bandwidth. Whoever it was, this person sent multiple messages every day, mostly from a civilian account, but Bush hardly ever responded.

Who could it be?

Kete started reading the messages. It was Lieutenant Helena Grey, the plastic-faced officer from the
Armstrong
, a junior officer from one of twenty some vessels in the Research Squadron.

While Breeze still slogged visually through the messages between Captain Lincoln and Bush, Kete discovered that Grey was quite a little witch. Her frequent messages to Bush were hateful indictments of other members of
Armstrong
’s science team.

The vast majority were utterly trivial. Amanda Smith was clumsy with the equipment. Jack Mallory laughed too much in the lab. Enrique Vasquez had taken a longer break than normal. Thomas Kane gave confusing orders. The messages seemed endless, day after day and week after week. The sheer volume was astonishing, and that they were sent from her civilian account suggested she didn’t want them to be monitored.

On an impulse, Kete cross-referenced the messages from Bush to Lincoln. Sure enough, an uneven but blatant pattern began to emerge. Grey would spend a few days complaining about a certain member of the lab. Bush would send a demand to Lincoln to know why that person’s performance was sub-standard.

Digging deeper, Kete used Breeze’s access code to pry into the
Armstrong
personnel files. Negative comments from Lincoln were sparse, but they definitely correlated to the inquiries from Bush. Details were rarely provided, and few actions were taken.

When Thomas Kane had joined
Armstrong
, and shouldered direct supervision of the science team, the tone of the notes had changed. Kane filed regular comments on his team’s performance, often praising and occasionally criticizing, and always providing specific details. Some of his reports came about as a result of Grey’s complaints, but generally Kane dismissed them as having little basis in fact.

Kete sat forward on the couch, fighting disgust. Lieutenant Grey was a petty troublemaker intent on punishing anyone she felt had crossed her, and Bush took her word as gospel. Captain Lincoln didn’t have the intelligence or the courage to put a stop to the bullshit. Lieutenant Commander Kane, at least, seemed to have an ounce of professionalism in him.

In fact, his most recent communiqué to Lincoln spoke gravely of Grey’s negative impact on the team. As far as Kete could see, there was no response. All juicy gossip, to be sure, but it wouldn’t be enough to get Breeze off the hook. What Kete needed was proof that Bush had ordered
Armstrong
’s team to focus their efforts on something other than the core mission, to the clear detriment of their research.

“Find anything?” he asked.

Breeze shook her head. “Nothing solid. Lincoln and Bush are idiots, but I’ll be held accountable for that as well.”

“How are they idiots?”

“All they ever talk about are the special experiments, and the awards they want the ship to win.” She took a deep breath, then let it out. “I don’t get it—it’s not like either of them gets the award.”

“What do you mean?”

Breeze turned to face him, rubbing her eyes. “Awards like that go either to the entire ship, or to an individual researcher. At best, Lincoln and Bush just ride on somebody else’s coattails.”

“Hmmm.” Kete cast a query into the Terran network, seeking the winners of recent scientific awards. A common thread appeared. “If it’s the leader of the research team who usually gets the award, who would that be aboard the
Armstrong
?”

Breeze frowned. “That old biddy, I think.” She paused to think. “What was her name? You know, the haggard one.”

“Lieutenant Grey, I think. Helena Grey.”

Breeze turned back to her terminal. Kete waited patiently while she followed the line of thinking he’d so plainly laid out for her. Again she frowned.

“There are a lot of messages to Admiral Bush from this Grey woman,” she noted. “Why is she talking to him?”

“Sounds a bit irregular to me.”

Breeze started examining the long list of communications, unconsciously leaning closer to the screen as the minutes ticked by. Kete forced himself to be patient—it took Terrans so much longer to grasp the obvious.

Soon she left the message log and began a new search of the
Armstrong
security database. She started a facial recognition search of the ship’s main passageways, identifying both Bush and Grey. Abruptly Kete found himself scrambling to keep up with her thinking as she conducted a lightning search of thousands of hours of camera feeds.

She pinpointed half a dozen instances of the admiral and the lieutenant, both entering the admiral’s cabin within twenty minutes of each other. Then, several hours later, both departed—again within twenty minutes of each other. He looked over at Breeze with new respect.