eyes, remembering the time she’d met Joyce’s wife. That
woman was a saint. “Why do men think they’re superheroes simply because they can produce
sperm?”
“Just get us docked, will you?”
Matt’s mood didn’t improve when he looked over his messages in his
quarters. He’d seen the package from Athens Point Law Enforcement Forces, and if Ari hadn’t
acknowledged and allowed it to download—no, that wasn’t fair. She was operating the ship and it
was her responsibility to accept any messages directed to Aether’s
Touch .
He stared at the LEF seal revolving over the text. Since they knew the
message had reached the ship, he had to open it. He sighed, looking at the text that said,
“Positive identification of receiver required for service.”
He’d already had unpleasant dealings with Athens Point LEF and, while
this should be a request for relevant information, he had his doubts. He knew the LEF had
finished gathering evidence for prosecuting Nestor’s murderer, a customs official named Hektor
Valdes.Unfortunately, Val des wasn’t rolling over on his employer, accomplices, or contacts.
This remote subpoena probably meant they hadn’t shut down the graft that flowed through Athens
Point Customs. They were flailing around, expanding their voracious appetite for information,
whether relevant or not. Worse, they might be feeling vindictive.
There was no sense in delaying any longer; he provided his voice and
thumbprint for identification. He clenched his jaw as he read what the subpoena required.
Great. Not only did they require an affidavit answering certain questions; they wanted a
time-stamped copy of everything Nestor had sent him in the past year, and that meant exposing
Muse 3. He had twenty-four hours to hand everything over to one of their authorized
representatives.
He needed a lawyer, fast.
“I don’t know why I have to be part of this
parade,” Joyce muttered into Ariane’s ear while Matt moved through the airlock ahead of
them.
“You heard him.” Ariane nodded toward Matt’s back. “We’ll observe all
generational ship customs, to include tours and dinners.”
“But you’ve already gone through this once. Isn’t that enough for
everyone on our ship?”
“Nice try, Joyce. We always do the meet and greet; the Pilgrimage ship
line is sovereign here, so consider it a complex border-crossing ritual.”
“I’m going to gag if I have to eat any crèche-get food,” whispered Joyce
in a warning tone, but Ariane pretended not to hear him.
Ahead, Matt was shaking the hand of the senior staff representative, a
woman with an unlined face and faded, short brown hair.
“Commander Charlene Pilgrimage. I’m off shift and I can give you the
tour.” The woman extended her hand. “Missed you the first time you came through.”
This willowy woman commanded the huge generational ship Pilgrimage III , or as currently configured, habitat. Ariane should have learned
by now that she couldn’t make assumptions about the age or experience of generational ship crew
members. Charlene Pilgrimage might have been born before her parents, or even
grandparents.
“Ariane Kedros, pilot of the Aether’s
Touch .” She shook Charlene’s hand, appreciating the purpose she felt in the commander’s
hand and arm.
Ariane looked around while Matt introduced Mr. Joyce. They were standing in the welcome area, a room fed by several
hallways from the passenger airlocks. Two lines of four pews faced a shrine to St. Darius set
into a niche in the wall. Of course, everything was bolted down to the walls or deck.
In generational ship fashion, the room was monochromatic, if one
discounted the dark gray pattern on the deck. The walls were deep, golden yellow, while the
doors and the shrine were outlined with light yellow. She walked toward the shrine, whose niche
was backed with a mosaic of glittering gold tiles. At the top of the niche were two lines: ST.
DARIUS INTERCEDES
woman was a saint. “Why do men think they’re superheroes simply because they can produce
sperm?”
“Just get us docked, will you?”
Matt’s mood didn’t improve when he looked over his messages in his
quarters. He’d seen the package from Athens Point Law Enforcement Forces, and if Ari hadn’t
acknowledged and allowed it to download—no, that wasn’t fair. She was operating the ship and it
was her responsibility to accept any messages directed to Aether’s
Touch .
He stared at the LEF seal revolving over the text. Since they knew the
message had reached the ship, he had to open it. He sighed, looking at the text that said,
“Positive identification of receiver required for service.”
He’d already had unpleasant dealings with Athens Point LEF and, while
this should be a request for relevant information, he had his doubts. He knew the LEF had
finished gathering evidence for prosecuting Nestor’s murderer, a customs official named Hektor
Valdes.Unfortunately, Val des wasn’t rolling over on his employer, accomplices, or contacts.
This remote subpoena probably meant they hadn’t shut down the graft that flowed through Athens
Point Customs. They were flailing around, expanding their voracious appetite for information,
whether relevant or not. Worse, they might be feeling vindictive.
There was no sense in delaying any longer; he provided his voice and
thumbprint for identification. He clenched his jaw as he read what the subpoena required.
Great. Not only did they require an affidavit answering certain questions; they wanted a
time-stamped copy of everything Nestor had sent him in the past year, and that meant exposing
Muse 3. He had twenty-four hours to hand everything over to one of their authorized
representatives.
He needed a lawyer, fast.
“I don’t know why I have to be part of this
parade,” Joyce muttered into Ariane’s ear while Matt moved through the airlock ahead of
them.
“You heard him.” Ariane nodded toward Matt’s back. “We’ll observe all
generational ship customs, to include tours and dinners.”
“But you’ve already gone through this once. Isn’t that enough for
everyone on our ship?”
“Nice try, Joyce. We always do the meet and greet; the Pilgrimage ship
line is sovereign here, so consider it a complex border-crossing ritual.”
“I’m going to gag if I have to eat any crèche-get food,” whispered Joyce
in a warning tone, but Ariane pretended not to hear him.
Ahead, Matt was shaking the hand of the senior staff representative, a
woman with an unlined face and faded, short brown hair.
“Commander Charlene Pilgrimage. I’m off shift and I can give you the
tour.” The woman extended her hand. “Missed you the first time you came through.”
This willowy woman commanded the huge generational ship Pilgrimage III , or as currently configured, habitat. Ariane should have learned
by now that she couldn’t make assumptions about the age or experience of generational ship crew
members. Charlene Pilgrimage might have been born before her parents, or even
grandparents.
“Ariane Kedros, pilot of the Aether’s
Touch .” She shook Charlene’s hand, appreciating the purpose she felt in the commander’s
hand and arm.
Ariane looked around while Matt introduced Mr. Joyce. They were standing in the welcome area, a room fed by several
hallways from the passenger airlocks. Two lines of four pews faced a shrine to St. Darius set
into a niche in the wall. Of course, everything was bolted down to the walls or deck.
In generational ship fashion, the room was monochromatic, if one
discounted the dark gray pattern on the deck. The walls were deep, golden yellow, while the
doors and the shrine were outlined with light yellow. She walked toward the shrine, whose niche
was backed with a mosaic of glittering gold tiles. At the top of the niche were two lines: ST.
DARIUS INTERCEDES
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