Fire Ant Page 5

His tone was calm and collected, but there was that underlying steel in his voice that created a compulsion to obey. It wasn’t for nothing the GTs had risen to their current position in humankind.

  With a mental sigh, Beth began to recount what she remembered. She spoke softly, almost in a monotone, and the GT simply sat there and listened. Annabelle whispered into her throat mic a few times as Beth spoke, but Beth couldn’t understand what she’d said to provoke her to take notes at that specific moment.

  Beth didn’t know how far she should continue, so she was relieved when Mzee Patel-Amand lifted his outstretched hand, palm up, to stop her. She waited for the inevitable.

  “That explains the question Javier had about the jump in the Q-readings,” he said, looking to Teneriffe. “Annabelle, get our transport back to Sahra and set up a meeting with the principles.”

  Annabelle nodded, stood, and left the room. Patel-Amand leaned over and quietly said something to Teneriffe that Beth didn’t catch.

  What now?

  The GT turned his attention back to Beth and said, “Thank you, Pilot Dalisay, for your time. You’ve been most helpful clearing up a few items. A first-hand account can always fill in some of the blanks.”

  Beth was confused. She looked up at him and tried to digest his words.

  “You mean . . . you believe me? About what happened?”

  Now it was Mzee Patel-Amand’s turn to look confused, his perfect purple brows scrunched together. “Why wouldn’t I believe you? You were telling me the truth, weren’t you?”

  “I mean . . . I mean, no one with the company believes me. They said I made it all up, then wiped my AI to cover my tracks.”

  He smiled, then said, “Your AI’s data confirms what you’ve told me.”

  “But I was told that once you null an AI, whatever was in there is lost forever.”

  Both GTs laughed aloud at that, looking at each other with “oh, isn’t she cute?” expressions on their faces.

  “Rest assured, Pilot Dalisay, that the Directorate has methods to recover anything. Even without your ship’s records, there was enough picked up through the gate to corroborate the report you gave. No, I do believe what happened to you. I also believe that the most likely explanation is the one you presented, that you made contact with an alien race.”

  Beth’s mouth gaped open, and she tried to speak, but nothing came out. She’d been so sure of the facts after returning to Nexus Prime, only to have the constant rebuttals make her doubt her own memories. To have those same memories accepted by the Directorate was a welcome relief.

  I’m not crazy!

  “We’ve been expecting this for some time now, but the fact is that you were the one who made history. Annabelle will brief you before we leave, but the gist of it is that you’re going to have to remain quiet for some time still. Can I count on you for that?”

  At the moment, she was so relieved that she would have promised him her first-born child, so she said, “Yes, Mzee. Of course.”

  “I knew that. You’ve got an exemplary record, especially from someone of your background.”

  Beth was almost militantly proud of New Cebu and her people, but she let his condescending attitude slide.

  “This will only be temporary. Just understand that at some point your name will be known.”

  Beth had hoped for recognition when she reached Nexus Prime, but that had faded after the reception she’d received. She might feel differently in the future, but for the moment, she was just happy that she’d been vindicated.

  And I’m not crazy!

  Chapter 4

  “You’re looking happy,” Bill said, sliding down into the seat across from her.

  “I thought you were going out?” Beth asked, wiping the tolly sauce from her lips.

  “I was. I was already in the bay when it got cancelled. Something beyond the company. Probably forgot to register the license, if you ask me.”

  Beth felt a pang of undeserved guilt. Could the Directorate have closed off the sector, and had Bill been given a destination to that same sector? The galaxy was vast, but it made sense that HB was exploring sector by sector.

  “Probably would have been a dry well, anyway,” she said. “Get some chow. The Vargas Fingers are pretty good.”

  “Yeah, I can see the sauce all over your mouth. And shirt.”

  Beth looked down, then reached with her finger to wipe the glob of white sauce off her left breast. She put the finger in her mouth, sucking the it clean.

  “Too good to waste, huh?”

  Bill just rolled his eyes. He was happily—and monogamously—married, and some of the pilots like to flirt with him, knowing he wouldn’t do anything about it. Beth shied away from that kind of thing, but she was feeling too good at the moment, and she had to act out.

  I’m not crazy, she told herself for the umpteenth time.

  “What else they got?” Bill asked, looking over to the chow line.

  “Chops, I think. With apples.”

  He wrinkled his lips, then said, “I’ll hit the autochef.”

  “You usually do,” Beth said with a shrug.

  Chow on the station was generally good, even on the lower decks. There were always two main courses cooked by the staff, and since many of the cooks were OPWs from New Cebu, those often included Filipino dishes. If neither of the two main courses tickled the diner’s fancy, they could dial up any of 200+ dishes from the autochefs in the corner.

  Bill came back a few minutes later with a cheeseburger.

  “Glad you’re expanding your culinary horizons,” she told him.

  “Hey, I like burgers. And I had Pasta Ricci yesterday, so there!”

  “Ooh, pushing the envelope, Herr Kapo. Real adventurous.”

  “Eat me,” he said, taking a big bite out of his burger.

  “Nah, I’ll stick with my Vargas Fingers.”

  She saw Absinthe and waved her over. The Brazuka had a plate of the plain chops with a fresh salad. Absinthe was just as short as Beth, but a lot curvier, and that caused problems with her weight. No Vargas Fingers with tolly sauce for her. She looked wistfully at Beth’s plate for a moment before sitting down.

  “You still on house arrest?” she asked.

  “Never was.”

  “Right, that’s why you’ve been holed up in your room all this time.”

  Beth shrugged, saying nothing. She took another bite of her food.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Well fucking what? Porra loca! You know what I’m asking. I just saw you yesterday with two GT’s, that’s what.”

  Bill caught Beth’s eyes. He’d asked her what had happened when she’d returned from the meeting, and she’d told him she couldn’t say. She then asked him to keep it between the two of them.

  “One was Tenerife, but the other wasn’t from the station,” Absinthe said, looking to Bill before turning back to Beth and asking, “So, what gives, gata?”

  “Just another debrief,” Beth said.

  She wanted to blurt out everything, but Annabelle had let her know in no uncertain terms that doing so could have drastic consequences. Beth understood why, but she was dying to share the fact that she’d been right all along.

  “When are they going to leave you alone?” Bill said. “Shit, it isn’t like we all haven’t made a mistake sometime. Just let it go and move on. You need to start working off your debt, and you can’t do that sitting here on your ass.”

  She kept the smile on her face. She hadn’t gone into detail about what happened in the system with him, and he either hadn’t heard or didn’t believe the theory that she was hiding a Class A planet. All he knew was that she’d destroyed the gate and owed the company big time for it.

  For a brief moment, she was tempted to confide in the two, and she’d even opened her mouth to speak before common sense took over.

  “Yes, you were about to say . . . ?” Absinthe prompted.

  “I was about to say that they’ll be done whe
n they’re done.”

  “That’s not right. I think I’ll hit up Martinez after chow,” Bill said. “See what she can do to fix this.”

  “No, just let it be,” Beth said, too quickly.

  Absinthe gave her a sharp look.

  Just relax, Beth. Take it easy.

  She didn’t want to get Martinez, or anyone else, for that matter, poking around the situation. Ignoring Absinthe’s piercing glare, she swirled her last Vargas Finger in the remnants of the tolly sauce before popping it into her mouth, then licked the tips of her fingers.

  “With that, I’m done,” she said, standing. “I’m going to watch Episode Seven. Since your mission was cancelled, are you up for that?”

  “Sure, let me finish my burger,” he said, smashing what was left of it into his mouth.

  “Episode Seven? Can I crash the party?” Absinthe asked. “My mission was canc’ed, too.”

  “You already watched the entire season,” Beth said.

  “I know, gata, but this episode is when Horti—”

  “Stop!” Beth and Bill yelled in unison.

  “You can come watch, but you’ve got to keep your mouth shut,” Beth said.

  “And I’ve got dibs on the bed. You get to sit on the floor,” Bill added.

  Beth waited on the other two, and in a few moments, the three were walking down the passage to her room.

  Soon, my brother and sister, I can tell you what happened. Until then, just bear with me.

  Chapter 5

  Beth’s PA softly chimed. She still had it in sleep mode despite being awake for the last hour—awake, but still in the rack. It wasn’t as if her schedule was full.

  She was going to ignore it, but sleep had left her for good, so she reached over to grab it.

  Hell.

  It was from accounting. Her monthly pay. By law, HB was only allowed to deduct 50% of her pay each month to tally against what she owed for the gate. The problem was that it was based on her average monthly pay for the last year. This month, what with the dry wells and not being sent out on a mission for the last three weeks, she’d earned less than the deduction. She was down 84.52 BC for the month.

  She let her head fall back on her pillow, dropping her PA on the deck.

  How am I going to tell Ina?

  Her mother counted on whatever Beth could send her to help keep the extended family going. This month, that was going to be a big fat zero.

  Whatever happiness Beth had felt after her meeting with Mzee Patel-Amand had long since evaporated like the morning mist. She’d become frustrated with the lack of missions. She no longer expected a bonus for SG-4021, but she wanted a chance to earn her living. Instead, she was being ignored. She was a ghost, simply existing.

  She’d seen PA6 Martinez, asking her to find out when she’d be put back into the rotation, but nothing had come of that. Two days ago, she’d made an appointment with Mzee Teneriffe, but while she’d been sympathetic, she reminded Beth that she had no power to affect the way HB ran their business. If they didn’t want her to go out on missions, that was their prerogative.

  Beth left the meeting and steamed all the way back to her stateroom. Bill had chosen that moment to ask if she’d finally ordered Season Four of The Justice Navy, and she’d snapped, telling him she wasn’t his mother and for him to get a life.

  She felt bad when he’d recoiled, hurt evident on his face, but not bad enough to apologize. She knew he was just trying to cheer her up, but all she wanted was to be left alone. She did try to find him the next morning to mend things, but he’d already left on his next mission.

  Beth stared at her overhead, lacking the initiative to get up and get dressed. Why bother? She sunk into a pool of self-pity. None of this was fair. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been sent to that God-cursed system. It wasn’t her fault that through some amazing flying, she wasn’t killed and was able to get back to Nexus Prime and warn mankind.

  Her PA chimed again from the deck where she dropped it. She wanted to ignore it, she tried to ignore it, but habits were ingrained. With a sigh, she rolled over onto her belly and picked it up. The voice call icon flashed at her, but without an identifier. She was tempted to cut the connection, but curiosity overcame her.

  “Yeah, what is it?”

  “I’d like you to meet me at G-o8-106,” a deep male voice said.

  “Who is this?”

  “I’ll tell you when you arrive. Do not tell anyone you’re coming.”

  The hell I’ll come.

  People just didn’t wander off for clandestine meetings. Crime was low aboard stations, especially ones run by zaibatsus like HB. Still, there were the occasional assaults, rapes, and even murders. Beth didn’t have any enemies that she knew of, but she was on the bad side of the company. She was pretty sure A8 Huhn was still pissed at her, but would he stoop to actually hurting her? She didn’t think so, but was it worth taking a chance?

  “Pilot Dalisay, are you there?”

  “Uh . . . yes, I’m here.”

  “Are you coming?”

  She wanted to say no. She knew she should say no. Let whoever it was come to her, or they could meet in the galley. But there was something about his voice that triggered something in her mind—and her curiosity was growing.

  Her ina had always told her when she was a child that her curiosity would either make or break her. What was going on? The only way to find out would be to go.

  “Yes, give me a few minutes, and I’ll be on my way.”

  The man on the other side cut the connection while Beth jumped out of the rack. She looked at her reflection in her mirror. Her hair was tousled—snarled was more like it. She gave her underarms a sniff, then recoiled. If she’d gotten up at a normal hour, she would have already taken her sonicjet and been presentable. There was no getting around that now.

  She ran her fingers through her short hair, yanking out the snarls. Running the water, she splashed her face first, her armpits second. She gave them another sniff—better, but not good. Pulling up her rack and exposing the storage compartment, she looked for her pit spray before remembering she’d run out the day before last and hadn’t bought any more.

  What to use, what to use . . .

  A soft lilac dispenser caught her eye. Hesitantly, she picked it up. Her ina had given it to her after her last leave, telling her that “a woman must always feel fresh.” Beth was a practical woman and didn’t buy into marketing, but she didn’t want to argue with her mother, so she’d just put the container in her bag.

  “FemiNu” was printed on it in large pink letters, an image of a lily beneath the name. Beth tilted the dispenser at the air above her and gave it a tiny pump, leaning in to sniff.

  It’s not bad.

  With a shrug, she aimed it at her armpits, giving each one a shot. She took another sniff, and while a little flowery, they were better than they’d been before.

  “Thanks, Ina,” she said.

  She threw on a pair of station coveralls and gave one last look in the mirror. She was presentable—barely. Cupping her hand over her mouth, she breathed out.

  Not good.

  And of course, she was out of breath blasts.

  I’ve really got to get stocked back up on the essentials, she thought as she looked around her stateroom.

  She’d been letting her frustration impact the normal necessities of everyday life.

  That’s going to change, starting today.

  The little lilac dispenser she’d dropped on her rack caught her eye again.

  What the heck, why not?

  She picked it up, pointed it at her mouth, and gave a full blast, almost gagging. She spit the stuff out, scraping her tongue against her top teeth. Lifting her hand, she checked her breath again, and to her surprise, it was actually better.

  This was as good as she was going to get, so it was time to move. She stuck her head out the door, looking to see if anyone was around. The voice told her not to tell anyone, and she considered disobeying and doi
ng just that. No one was around, though, so she slipped out and made her way to the carriage. Within moments, she was being whisked to the G Deck.

  “This had better be good,” she said quietly, anxiously waiting for the door to open.

  Beth had never been to G Deck. As far as she knew, it was a maintenance deck, with shops and storage. Pilots would never have a reason to be there. She thought she might be conspicuous in her deep blue overalls of the Exploration Corps, but the one person who saw her in the passage never even gave her a second glance. Beth made her way to 08-106, which was a nondescript door without a sign.

  That gave her pause. An unmarked space did not seem like a normal spot for a legitimate meeting. There wasn’t even a chime button. She almost turned around, but she’d come this far, and she wanted to find out what was up. She wasn’t stupid, though.

  She’d passed an open storeroom back down the passage, so she retreated and looked inside. No one was there, but she did spot a shelf of assorted parts. A quick look revealed an angled metal bar that would do in a pinch, so she snatched it.

  This will do, she thought as she hefted it a few times.

  She returned to 08-106, and holding the bar behind her back, knocked. A moment later, the door opened.

  Whoever Beth had thought would be waiting for her, this wasn’t him. A jet-black GT stood holding the door open, so black that light seemed to be sucked into him like a black hole, never to escape.

  “Are you coming in, or do you plan to hit me with that club you’re holding?” he asked in a deep, gravely voice.

  Beth’s arm had sunk down to her side, the bar almost touching the deck.

  “Sorry, Mzee,” she said, keeping her eyes locked on his as she squatted and placed the bar to the side.

  “Well, come in, Pilot Dalisay.”

  Beth entered what looked to be a small conference room, tastefully if not extravagantly furnished. She stepped forward, conscious of the looming presence now behind her, knowing he could crush her with one blow. Her knees trembled.

  Most GTs liked to expose a lot of skin—all the better to show off. Those in official positions with the Directorate wore singlets in Directorate maroon, with their rank and department on their left thigh. Those at the highest ranks had gold trim around the cuffs, neckline, and arm seam. This GT was dressed in a casual transparent Windsor and grey slacks.