Scott Cleveland - Pale Boundaries

The lander finished taxiing into launch position just as they strapped a respirator to his face to assist his breathing during the G-force strain. The jostling roused him, and he looked around, confused by the restraints and change of scenery.

“What’s going on?” he rasped behind the mask.

“It’s okay,” O’Brien assured him as she strapped in next to him.

“Stand by for launch in thirty seconds,” Figenshaw announced over the all-call. The lander’s engines rumbled to higher power and the craft began to vibrate.

The Pelletier’s eyes widened; he clutched at the harness release. O’Brien seized one of his arms, Mackey the other. “Sorry, partner,” Mackey apologized. “The Captain says you’ve seen too much.”

Brute engines roared, crushing them back in their seats.

“That’s her,” Undersecretary Mitchel Gidden said from the back seat, indicating an auburn-haired woman seated at a sidewalk café. Cai brought her unmarked cruiser to a stop. Gidden rolled down his window, raising the polished handle of his cane to catch the woman’s attention. “I’m a bit early, my dear,” he called. “I apologize if it’s inconvenient.”

The woman approached the cruiser with a fond smile. “Seeing my favorite uncle is never inconvenient!” She slid into the front passenger seat, abandoning the charade the moment the door closed. “Who are you?” she demanded of Cai.

“This is Colonel Cai,” Gidden replied. “You will deal with her, from now on. She knows everything.”

“I know you people don’t retire,” she said, flashing an arrogantly self-assured smile. “Have you finally felt the clammy hand of death on your shoulder, Mr. Gidden?”

“No more so than your former Chief Administrator did,” Undersecretary Gidden replied flippantly. “Good day, Ms. Cirilo.” He exited the car and walked up the street, cane tapping the flagstone sidewalk.

The shadow that crossed Cirilo’s face at the remark remained when she turned her attention back to Cai. “I don’t appreciate surprises like this,” she said.

“Then get out,” Cai suggested. Despite their shared culpability, their professions made them natural enemies, and she found it difficult to set that fact aside. Unfortunately it was she who was betraying her nature, not Cirilo.

Cirilo declined the bait, instead appraising her with dark brown eyes. “It seems like a rather abrupt changing of the guard,” she said. “Anything I should know?”

“I’d tell you if there were,” Cai replied coolly, “and if it suited me. You asked for this meeting; let’s get on with it.”

“Neil Sorenson, one of your local exporters, stuck his nose were it didn’t belong and discovered things that he shouldn’t have,” Cirilo said. “He’s been silenced rather permanently.”

“You killed Neil Sorenson?” Cai demanded incredulously. “Are you people insane? You can’t go around murdering high-profile citizens!”

Cirilo’s eyebrows shot up. “He uncovered some very incriminating information about our activities and your own government,” she explained. “Things best left unknown. He also ran the largest poaching operation on the planet.”

The latter revelation didn’t surprise Cai in the least. It had long been assumed, but never proven, that Sorenson Exports was engaged in large-scale poaching. “Did this have anything to do with the sanction you convinced Gidden to put out on Maalan Bragg and Terson Reilly?”

“I’d tell you,” Cirilo said with a tight smile, “if it suited me. I believe our business has concluded.” She made to open the door.

“Wait,” Cai ordered, drawing an irritated look from Cirilo even as she paused. “A gang of poachers escaped from the Great Northern Preserve a few days ago,” she said. “We have reason to believe that they were spacers.”

“In what way does this interest us?” Cirilo asked.

“They were working out of a pre-settlement complex buried in an old landslide,” Cai explained. The section that the poachers had penetrated was a tiny portion of what survived the slide; fortunately they didn’t possess the equipment to tunnel into the rest. The Secret Service would use explosives to collapse it in its entirety once they’d satisfied themselves that they’d found it all and mitigated the primary environmental hazard—the semi-functional nuclear reactor which turned out to be the source of the mountain’s many hotsprings.

“And I repeat the question.”

Cai looked at her skeptically. “You mean to tell me you really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“I suggest you pass it along to your superiors, if it doesn’t mean anything to you,” Cai suggested.

“And what the hell do you expect us to do about it?” Cirilo demanded.

“Your organization is better equipped to find a privateer than we are.”

“I’ll consider it,” she conceded, “but I expect something in return. We have questions for Maalan Bragg.”

“You’ll stay away from Maalan Bragg,” Cai replied coldly. “Your own incompetence put him on your tail. Neither of us can afford a screw-up like that again.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that along as well,” Cirilo said with similar ice, and got out.

Bragg continued to occupy the Colonel’s thoughts as she drove away. He’d pulled through, physically, at least, and was due to return to work on light duty in a few more days. His mental state was still in question, especially given the shattering revelations she’d dropped on him at the hospital. She had to get him involved in police work again, regain what trust she could, and give him a chance to accept the new way of things.

She’d successfully undermined his personal integrity already; undermining his professional integrity wouldn’t be nearly as difficult, and Neal Sorenson’s murder was the perfect opportunity to get that out of the way.

Sergio Cirilo remained understandably acrimonious toward Hal after the attack on his daughter. They hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words to each other since the incident and Hal made a point of avoiding the Fort’s Deputy Administrator whenever possible.

The Old Lady’s summons, unfortunately, was not an event either man could avoid. Sergio’s expression when Hal entered the room and seated himself was positively glacial. The two men endured an uncomfortable silence until Tamara Cirilo arrived.

Despite her earlier promise to discuss the matter, Tamara had refused to tell Hal exactly what she’d put in the report she was about to present to the Old Lady. Neither Tamara nor Sergio had made overtures he could consider extortion, which meant that the truth was sufficient for their purposes.

Sergio’s smug smile when his daughter entered the room seemed to support Hal’s fear.

The Fort’s Intelligence Officer offered a cheery greeting and took the seat next to Hal, a move that puzzled both Hal and her father. Hal didn’t have time to dwell on the issue, as the oversized monitor at the end of the conference table flickered to life a moment later.

The Old Lady regarded them with a grim expression.

“Tamara, I’ve read your initial report. Is there any doubt that Sorenson and the Minzoku are colluding?”

“None whatsoever, ma’am,” Tamara replied.

“Then we find ourselves in a very serious predicament,” the Old Lady said. “We must give Sorenson no reason to suspect we’re on to him until we’re in a position to act preemptively.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Sergio said blithely. “He’s dead.”