A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [104]
When Brindle finally returned to the Jupiter two days later, his Remora’s fuel cells were almost completely drained. His life-support systems and air regenerators were exhausted. Tasia met him on the flight deck of the flagship, where she had gone for a lengthy debriefing and discussion of the operation. Overjoyed and relieved as she was to see that he was still alive, she didn’t dare run to hug him.
The Admiral’s pinched face was livid as she scolded the Wing Commander. “Mister, you are supposed to set an example for our pilots! You’re in charge. That foolhardy stunt should have cost your life; instead it’ll knock you down a few ranks—if I don’t decide to strip you of that EDF uniform entirely. Or maybe I’ll just hand you a broom and a toothbrush and make you tidy up the landscape of Boone’s Crossing!”
Brindle did not flinch from the upbraiding, though. He stood at attention, his stomach growling, needing to eat or drink something—even some of the EDF’s bad coffee. He felt exhausted but exhilarated.
When the Admiral finally took a breath and lost momentum on her lecture, Brindle said, “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am. But before you make up your mind, you’ll want to check the recon information in my Remora’s data banks.”
He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “See, I tracked the enemy warglobes all the way to their home planet, Admiral. Those drogues came from a gas giant with the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen. On the charts it’s called Osquivel. If we want to launch a counterattack, we can find the enemy there.”
52
RLINDA KETT
The diurnal cycle on Rheindic Co lasted two hours longer than a standard Terran day and night. But Rlinda ate and slept according to clocks aboard the Voracious Curiosity. As a trader going from planet to planet, she had long ago decided not to bother adjusting her body to local time cycles. Planets could move on their ponderous schedules; Rlinda would keep to her own.
Davlin Lotze, though, had no discernible cycle. He simply worked all the time with full energy and concentration, ignoring the heat of the day and the cold of the clear desert night, studying, analyzing, and investigating until exhaustion forced him to take a nap—often out in the ghost city, where he continued to search for clues.
Rlinda usually accompanied him out to the site. Technically, she had done her job by delivering him here, but she assumed the man could finish his work faster with her assistance. That way, they could return to Earth sooner and Rlinda could get paid. So, she kept him company…whether he wanted it or not.
The two of them had rebuilt the fallen scaffolding to the cliff overhangs where they’d found the body of Louis Colicos. Rlinda puffed and panted climbing the metal stairs, but she figured the exercise could only do her good. While Davlin used his analytical tools to continue scouring for answers, she did the more practical labor of setting up light panels and adding air recirculators. She also prepared meals, though Davlin never seemed to notice the difference between her finest cuisine and prepackaged mealpax.
Now, in the brightly lit chamber where Louis had died, Davlin scraped a sample of dried blood from the surface of the trapezoidal stone window and slipped the powder into an analysis pad. They had already sealed the two bodies they had found into cryobags and stored them aboard the Curiosity. They had still found no sign of Margaret Colicos, the compy, or the Klikiss robots.
While Davlin looked at his analysis pad, waiting for results, Rlinda struck up a conversation. “So what made you want to become a spy? Was it a series of unfortunate circumstances, or just a typical boyhood dream? And what does your mother think of your chosen profession?”
“I prefer to call myself a specialist in obscure details, not a spy. Chairman Wenceslas knows I can find subtle answers when normal channels fail. Except when there isn’t much of anything to find, like on Crenna.”
“So, does the Hansa have a Bureau for ‘Obscure Specialists,’ or are you self-taught?”
He turned to her with a bland expression.