Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

“Yes, Ma’am,” the soldier said, and stepped back.

The woman looked at Legroeder. “State your name.”

Legroeder froze, thoughts racing. What the hell name had he been ID’d under?

// Is there a problem? //

“Legroeder,” said the woman. “Is that your name?”

(Did you ID me as Legroeder, for chrissake?)

There was a momentary hesitation in the system; he imagined the implants blinking at each other disconcertedly. // We presented the options. You didn’t specify another name. //

Legroeder tried to recall the moment, but everything had been chaos. (You didn’t include a picture with that ID, did you?)

// That is the normal procedure. // And then, with what might have been a hint of contrition, // Should we not have? //

(What picture did you use?)

// We took it from your memories. //

His heart sank as he saw his own mental image of himself. It was, of course, Legroeder as he had seen himself most of his life—as he had appeared before Com’peer and the Narseil med techs had remade his features. As he had appeared at DeNoble.

“What’s the matter?” said the half-metal woman. “Your ID says Renwald Legroeder.”

“Um—yes.”

“And you have just arrived from a mission with one of the affiliates?”

“Yes, that’s right.” His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Kyber affiliates.”

The woman’s two eyes pulsed in alternating waves of intensity. Her gaze flicked for a moment to a new holo, another point of attention; it flicked back. “I didn’t think you meant Narseil affiliates. You just turned in a shipful of Narseil infiltrators. Is that correct?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Legroeder nodded.

“Good. Then you will be seen for debriefing.” Her glance shifted to the lead guard. “Take him in.”

The guard gestured to Legroeder to circle around the receptionist, leaving the other two guards to wait. A whole new set of holos sprang up around the woman, who appeared to have already forgotten Legroeder.

A glowing doorway appeared behind the receptionist, and they passed through it into a darkened space. It was a room lit only by the glow of consoles—a great many consoles, lining the circumference of the room, and the ceiling, as well. Some displayed data, others holo-images. In the center of the room was a high-backed swivel chair, turned partly away from the door. Legroeder could just make out a woman in the chair, scanning a bank of consoles. A faint spatter of light seemed to flicker in the air in front of her.

The guard hesitated—and finally Legroeder himself cleared his throat. Before he could speak, a voice broke the silence. “ You may leave him with me and return to your post.” It was a female voice, but electronically distorted. He thought it was the voice of the woman in the chair, but it came through speakers around the room.

The guard nodded, turned, and left the room hurriedly.

“Step forward.”

Legroeder circled around to approach her from the front.

The woman in the chair was more human looking than the receptionist, but also more startling. She seemed to have all the normal human body parts—but her face was alight, sparkling with fire. At first he thought it was all reflections from the consoles; then he realized it was coming from her face—rather like a dance-floor laser, spinning out dazzling rays faster than the eye could follow. At first he could not see her actual eyes; then she turned her head and he saw a pair of smoldering embers. He shivered, before realizing that she was wearing some kind of clear mask on her face, and that was the source of the dazzling light and glowing eyes.

Legroeder started to speak, but the woman raised a hand, pressing it against thin air. Her other hand was busy manipulating something on the left arm of her chair. “You are Renwald Legroeder?” she said after a moment.

“Yes.”

“I’m Tracy-Ace/Alfa. I’ve been expecting you.”

Expecting me?

She leaned forward, staring at him. “Correct me if I am wrong. It is my understanding that you have come to us, indirectly, from an affiliate Kyber settlement. And that you were—what was the word?—a ‘plant’ aboard the Narseil ship that encountered Flechette . Are those facts correct?”

// That is how you were ID’d, // his implants informed him.

“Yes,” Legroeder answered.

“You look different from your ID photo.” Half question, half accusation.

He stiffened. “Yes, I—” He hesitated, then decided that the truth might be as good a cover as a lie. “The Narseil made some changes to my appearance, to conceal my previous identity in case of capture. I’d… persuaded them that I’d joined their cause.”

Her eyes glowed brighter. “And had you?”

Legroeder’s face burned. “They think so.”

“Explain.”

“I was aboard a Narseil vessel, purportedly to help them defeat the Kyber in battle. I didn’t really think they would; in fact, I expected we would be captured. But once the Narseil defeated Flechette , I persuaded them to try to penetrate your facility, to gain intelligence.”

Tracy-Ace/Alfa studied him for a moment. “And did you?”

“What?”

“Penetrate our facility? Before sounding the alarm, I mean.”

Legroeder frowned, and waggled his hand noncommittally.

“I see,” said Tracy-Ace/Alfa. “Does that mean a lot, or a little?”

“A little,” Legroeder said, with a shrug. “I tried to make a good show of it—and I pretty much coerced your Rigger Deutsch into going along with me—but I really didn’t know my way around. We didn’t get anything that was very heavily guarded.”

Tracy-Ace/Alfa’s face sparkled. “I see. I’ll accept that for the moment.” Though the mask on her face was clear, it was impossible to interpret her expression. “I understand that your H’zzarrelik took quite a toll on our ship. A dreadnought, it was supposed to be. Were you unable to… shall we say, temper the Narseil counterattack?”

He turned his hands palm up. “How could I? I was posing as a member of their crew. If I had turned against them in battle, they would have killed me at once.” He hesitated. Perhaps it was time to put in a plug for his friends. “They are, I must say, excellent fighters.”

Shots of light came from her eyes. “Are they, now? You can tell me more, in our full debriefing later. But in view of the disastrous mission of Flechette —good Lord, brought in as a captive of the Narseil, all but one of our crew dead or taken by the enemy—we come to the fact that you seem to have been something of a hero.”

He started to speak, but his voice caught. This was what his ID was supposed to convey, yes?

She cocked her head slightly, and continued, “Against all odds, you brought us a captive Narseil crew. And before they could do too much harm at the docking station, you managed to alert us through the intelnet—thereby saving us untold costs. Fair statement?”

He cleared his throat, amazed that his cover story appeared to be working—though he still wondered what had really set off the alarm. He shrugged. “It was all pretty confusing, to be honest. I wouldn’t want to take more credit than I was due. But I—hope that my actions were helpful.”

“You not only captured the Narseil, you thwarted their attempt at espionage.”

“I suppose so,” he admitted. In his head, he felt a circle of crimson light expanding like a ripple on a pond. The implants hastened to reassure him, // You are only confirming what we implied in the traces we left. //

(Right. It’s okay.) He felt dizzy. Was it okay? He wasn’t contradicting information already in the intelnet; that was the important thing.