She choked out the words. “Fearsome. Srin.”
“Correct. Now: you must provide every detail of what you were to do after you switched the cold cells.”
“Yes; I — yes, Fearsome Srin.” She waited for his dismissive nod of approval before continuing. “Our employers arranged for a purser’s assistant on Changeling to sneak us on board. After it shifted here, we debarked as soon as we could and took on identities as ordinary dock workers.”
“So that you would not attract attention?”
“Yes, Fearsome Srin. Also, anyone looking for us would presume that we were trying to get out of Arat Kur space as quickly as possible and would concentrate their search on the shift-carrier.”
“So it was your intent to remain in your unassuming roles until you believed that you were no longer being sought?”
“Actually, Fearsome Srin, our employers told us to await a coded signal which meant that they had completed fabricating two new identities for us. Which they did six days after we arrived at Jam, Fearsome Srin.”
Shethkador did the math. The Arbitrage had still been in-system, then. So someone aboard her had purloined the false identities for them and was also the source of their “employer’s signal.” “And I presume your employers instructed you to travel onward in cryogenic stasis, since officials would not rouse you to confirm your identity.” Ingenious, and just what I would have done.
She nodded. “Yes, Fearsome Srin, but — what happened? Why am I here? Did you seize the ship that was carrying our cold cells to Earth?”
Aboriginals: always presuming that ends are attained by battle, rather than deception — or a knife in the back. “We used tight-beam relay to contact our own servitors in orbit at Jam and instructed them to do to your cryocells what you did to the cryocells bound for the Slaasriithi ship: they made a switch. Once your cells had been removed from the waiting list of pending cold-freight, they were shipped out by small craft to the gas giant in orbit four. Your cryocells were set adrift in a vacuum-rated cargo container. We waited for an auspicious moment and sent a stealthed patrol hunter to reclaim you.”
She looked around. “Where is Manuel, the man I worked with, Fearsome Srin?”
“He was extraneous.”
She shivered; she may have held back a sob. “We — I didn’t mean to fail. We did what we were asked to do. We had no way of knowing it was not authorized.”
“That is true. It is also irrelevant. But we could not allow you to remain among your own kind. Upon returning to Earth, the counterintelligence agencies would have apprehended you.”
“So,” she shuddered, clutching her arms tightly, “are you going to kill me?”
Such an amateur; as if I would not have done so already, had that been my intent. “I should,” Shethkador lied, and let the pause draw on, “but no: you may prove valuable as bait.”
She blinked. “As bait?”
“Of course. Whoever hijacked our assets and acted without authorization must be located and punished. So far, the pawns have been easy enough to eliminate. We found and executed the person on my ship who sent you your initial messages in Sigma Draconis. We uncovered the parties that hired him and shall have them soon enough, too. But they did not have enough power or information to undertake this ambitious scheme on their own. To that end, I will ensure that news of your capture and interrogation ‘slips out,’ and so, touches a wider circle of ears than it should. And then we shall see what responses those rumors generate.”
“I do not understand: what kind of responses do you expect them to generate, Fearsome Srin?”
“Attempts against your life, of course.”
She blanched.
“Surely you understood this is what I meant by keeping you as ‘bait.’ We shall also intimate that you are not the mere informant you seem to be but are one of our most prized, deep-cover Aboriginal agents. Our adversaries will not know, or be able to retroactively ascertain, the truth of this claim. Earth was chaotic enough prior to the invasion and our networks there are now in utter disarray. So, in order for the guilty parties to be sure that they have concealed their involvement, they will have no choice but to kill you. If they can.”
“But you won’t let them — will you, Fearsome Srin?”
“I will prevent it.” Which, for the moment, was true. But Shethkador could anticipate many reasons for changing his mind later on, not the least of which was to prevent his enemies from discovering how very little the Aboriginal female actually knew. Indeed, the only way to perpetuate their uncertainty would be to allow his adversaries to assassinate her and thereby eliminate their only hope of determining what she did and did not reveal to him.
“And, Fearsome Srin, what assurance do I have that you’ll keep that promise?”
He smiled. “That is an amusingly ironic question, coming from someone who has not only broken her oath of service, but has become a meretricious traitor.” He turned to exit, but stopped on the threshold of the iris valve. “Your people have a customary good night wish: ‘pleasant dreams.’”
As the portal squealed shut behind him, he discovered Olsirkos Shethkador-vah waiting just beyond the entry to the brig. Tlerek motioned that he should walk alongside. “Has the patrol hunter finished its survey of the gas giant?”
“Yes, Fearsome Srin. Doom Herald just submitted its tightbeam report.”
“And?”
“As you suspected, Red Lurker did not leave a camouflaged data cache at either of the covert drop sites. Also, there was sign of a combat just above the gas giant’s exosphere: light debris, including parts of a communication mast and a length of refueling hose. All Aboriginal.”
“Of course. No sign of debris consistent with Red Lurker, I presume.”
“None, Srin Shethkador.”
“Have our collaborators on the second planet relayed the logs of the port authority’s preshift communications with the Arbitrage?”
“The logs show no irregular reports, Honored Srin. However, several days after refueling, the Arbitrage’s transmission characteristics altered slightly. It was presumed to be the result of changes in the gas giant’s magnetosphere and local ionization.”
Shethkador shook his head. “But that was not what caused the discrepancy. Those postrefueling messages had to be sent by Red Lurker’s array, since the debris found by Doom Herald included pieces of the Aboriginal ship’s communications mast.”
“So the crew of Red Lurker commandeered the Arbitrage and used it to shift out of the system.”
“It is the logical conclusion from the evidence before us.”
They had arrived in the commander’s oversight compartment, just off the bridge. One of the two holographs on display was a rendering of the local stellar group. Olsirkos stared into it. “But where would they go? None of these destinations are useful to them, assuming, as we must, that whoever is now in control of Lurker was also behind switching the cryocells that were delivered to the Slaasriithi shift carrier.”
“That, too, is a logical conclusion.”
Olsirkos seemed to be grinding his molars. “But how is the hijacking of an Aboriginal shift-carrier that can barely reach Sigma Draconis useful to a group that has introduced saboteurs or confidential agents into the Terran legation to Beta Aquilae?”