“He’s not, Admiral, but, well, you know how artists don’t work best in groups?”
“Sure.”
“Yeah, well, that’s kind of how Caine works, too. He’s a team player, but he often does his best work independently. Probably because he doesn’t think like most of the team.”
Perduro picked up a hardcopy report printed on the light blue letterhead of the Med-Psych section. “‘Subject Riordan evinces unusual balance between right and left lobe thought; demonstrates real-time syncretic problem-solving. Does not alternate between data intake and revision of situational contexts, but engages in both processes simultaneously.’”
Trevor raised an eyebrow. “Ma’am, if you had all that psych-eval data on Caine already, why ask me for my extremely inexpert assessment?”
“For the reason I indicated before, Captain: to get a human perspective that isn’t all numbers and graphs and psychobabble. Thankfully, what you just shared confirms most of what the so-called experts have observed.”
Trevor shrugged, turned to check the real-time rail system diagram for the progress of the private maglev car that was carrying Caine—and jerked forward to scrutinize the screen. “Admiral—” he started.
“I see it, Captain. Where the hell did that other car come from? Where’s its transponder code? And what in blazes is it doing on the same track?”
And then the screen went dead. A moment later the security monitor feed blacked out also—followed by every light in the room.
Perduro punched the button to call the Duty Officer just as he came through the door and the red emergency lighting began to glow. “Admiral, we’ve got a widespread blackout on all—”
The power came back up, the lights flickering sharply before their luminance stabilized.
Perduro rounded on the hapless D.O. “Mr. Canetti, what the hell is happening on my base?”
“Ma’am, I don’t know.”
“Admiral,” murmured Trevor. As Perduro turned toward him, he pointed to the security monitors and the maglev tracking screen. They, alone of all the electronic devices, were still dark.
“Son of a bitch,” Perduro breathed.
“Came in to tell you about those systems in particular,” Ensign Canetti blurted into the silence after her profanity. “Those systems went down first. And they went down hard.”
“Okay, so get the techs on it. What went wrong, and where?”
“That’s just it, Admiral. We don’t know. The whole maglev tracking system—and the station and platform monitors—just seem to have, well, disconnected.”
Trevor looked up sharply at the young ensign. The system had just “disconnected?” Where had he heard that before? Trevor jumped out of his chair, made for the doorway in the long, gliding leaps made possible by Barney Deucy’s low-gee environment.
“Trevor, where the hell are you going?”
“Admiral, we don’t have a lot of time. That kind of ‘disconnection’ is exactly what happened when the airlock on Convocation Station failed and almost sent Caine and one of the friendlier exosapients into hard vacuum. Similar electronic failures enabled a number of the other assassination attempts made against Caine, like the one at Alexandria.”
“So where are you going?”
“To the last station stop on the maglev line.” He looked at the D.O. “Do you have the main comms back yet?”
“Only the hard-wired system, sir.”
“As soon as you can, get a message to the Shore Patrol to meet me at the last station on the civilian branch of the maglev line.”
Perduro stood, frowning. “Why there?”
“Admiral Perduro, correct me if I’m wrong, but the track into the civilian section only extends a dozen meters or so beyond the final station. And they use that extension as a kind of shunting track: they leave cars there, or send them back the other way.”
Perduro’s frown deepened. “That’s true.”
“Then it’s also like a dead-end canyon. Once there, the only way out is to come back along the stretch of track that the rogue car has already entered.”
Perduro swallowed. “Putting Riordan between a speeding rock—”
“—and the very hard place at the end of the tunnel, Admiral. So with your leave—”
“Get the hell out of here, Captain. I’ll have the SPs meet you at the last station if I have to find them and drag them there myself.”
Heather reclined again. “So, Caine, about these secrets of yours—”
Riordan looked out the windows, saw three amber lights pass in quick sequence. “Stop the car. Now.”
“I don’t take orders from you, Caine, and I—”
“Stop the car now or you won’t hear another word from me.”
Heather frowned, modulated a control on her palmcomp’s screen. The car began to slow. “And I won’t hear another word if I let you out, either.”
“I’m not getting out. Ensign Brahen is. Those yellow lights we just passed mean we’re within a few hundred meters of a maintenance siding. She’s getting out there.”
“Not exactly the safest place to leave an innocent child, Caine.”
“Any place is safer than here with you,” Riordan snapped back, waving down the ensign’s inarticulate sputtering.
“Sir!” Brahen finally shouted, “I’m not going to leave you with this—”
“Ensign, there’s only one thing you’re going to do, and that is to follow my orders.”
“But, sir—”
“Don’t argue with him, little princess,” cooed Heather, who smiled broadly when Ensign Brahen’s fists balled up. “The grown-ups are going to talk about secrets, now. Secrets that would complicate your poor little life if they entered your poor little ears at this early stage of your poor little career.”
Some combination of the taunting tone and probable truths coming out of Heather’s mouth caused Marilyn Brahen to turn very red. “Ma’am, when I get back to the Pearl, I am going to make it my personal quest to find anything—anything—irregular or illegal in your actions while on Barnard’s Star Two C. And if I find something, heaven help me, I’ll—”
Heather brought the car to an abrupt stop. The ensign almost fell face down on the floor of the car. “Oops! So sorry! You were saying? Oh, but wait—you have to leave!” She pushed another control on her palmcomp; the maglev’s door hissed open. A grimy, half-meter-wide access shelf, lit by a single blue-white LED lamp, was revealed. “Out you go, sweetie!” Brahen did so, fists still clenched, eyes hard. Heather pushed the control. The door shut and the car began moving again. She tossed her bangs, surveyed Caine for a long moment. “Well, well, alone at last. Time to spill your secrets.”
Caine shook his head. “I promised to keep talking, Heather. Nothing more.”
“Oh! A challenge! But not a very hard one. Because if you don’t give me the leads I want, I will locate your old friends, ask them what they know.”
“Which is less than nothing.”
“Oh, I’m aware of that. But I also know that you’d probably do just about anything to protect them. And according to what you’ve said, a well-publicized research visit from me could be almost as unhealthy for them as if you had contacted them yourself.”
Caine made himself remain calm. “I always knew you were a hard-nosed investigator, Heather. But when did you add extortion to your bag of tricks?”
“One has to be ready to use any leverage available. Particularly when it comes to you, Caine. You don’t leave many loose ends.” She paused, became sly, but no less serious. “And I’m sure that’s why you were recruited to begin with.”