SPAULDING

Major Spaulding was clearly agitated. He paced back and forth on the deck of the war room, hands clasped behind his back as if he were confident and relaxed. But Nova could see the muscles straining in his forearms, and his fingers were laced together so tightly the tips were white.

She might have scanned his thoughts, but he was wearing the psi-screen again.

There was no such trouble sensing the thoughts of his second-in-command, Captain Vincent, however. The man glared at her with his beady eyes and radiated hatred. He looked like a Tarsonis swamp rat.

(burn in hell, you slike)

After you, Captain. She pictured him on fire and stumbling across the deck, an inferno of waving arms and charred flesh. His eyes widened slightly as her thought message hit home, and she sensed his fear of her. She felt surprisingly satisfied but resisted a smile.

Spaulding himself had demanded the meeting. Although most of them had been over the events in Augustgrad several times already, they were sitting around tables in the war room to review them yet again: Nova and Mal, Hauler, Rourke, Ward, Spaulding and Vincent, and a few other key members of the crew. A half-dozen new ghosts had arrived as well, but Nova hadn’t even had time to get to know them yet. Most were fresh out of the academy, young and filled with excitement. They had no clue what they were getting into here, she thought.

Since they had returned from Korhal, Nova had seen a number of new faces on board the Palatine, many of them hardened, resoced soldiers, their minds like blank slates to her. There had been heavy casualties among the marines in the brief period they had engaged the spectres outside the palace, and Hauler had moved quickly to replenish their ranks. Even the tactical officer was new, which surprised her. Perhaps the old one had done something that had landed him in the brig, because he surely wouldn’t have been in combat. In any case, the appearance of unfamiliar faces was nothing new to her; with the Dominion’s memory wipes, it was the way she began and ended every mission she’d ever been given.

Nobody believed the spectres would just disappear, and Hauler was clearly preparing for another battle. Mengsk had requested a private meeting with him shortly after Mal and Nova had left the safe room, and she suspected Hauler had been handed his own ass. Augustgrad would not be left vulnerable again.

Spaulding, however, would not let it go. He blamed Nova for the failure against the spectres, and he wanted blood. Unknown to her, while she was fighting the spectres in Augustgrad, there had been another battle for control far above the planet’s surface. Spaulding had wanted to take the Annihilators into the capital immediately, but Hauler had held him back, concerned about the breakdown of communications and the confusion that would surely come with a full-scale marine deployment.

After what had happened on the ground, Spaulding seemed sure that Mengsk would hand control of military support to him. It hadn’t occurred. Now Nova wondered what exactly he had up his sleeve.

“Ninety-seven,” he said. “Ninety-seven men and women. That’s how many marines you got killed.”

Colonel Hauler did not rise to take the bait, remaining calm, even appearing a bit weary. “We know how many casualties we suffered, Major Spaulding. We all feel their losses, including those members of our ghost team. We’ve been over this already. All communications were down, and we were facing a small, agile, and powerful enemy. If we had gone in with guns blazing, we would have killed half our marine force with friendly fire.”

“Are we so dependent on technology that we forget the basic principles of war? Were the Vikings or Romans of Old Earth wearing comms, heads-up displays, and hypersonic weaponry? There were ways to approach the enemy without our functional systems. Go back to basics. But that’s not why I called for this meeting.” Spaulding looked around the room, a half smile touching his purple, wormlike lips. “We have a traitor in our midst.”

A murmur went through the small group as people looked at each other. Nova caught a number of half-formed thoughts of surprise and fear. Most of them hadn’t expected anything like this.

“I have evidence to show that Agent X41822N is a spectre,” Spaulding said.

For a moment the room was silent, and then Mal Kelerchian stood up and glared at Spaulding. “I’m gonna knock your teeth out,” he said. “How dare you—”

“You’re a part of it too,” Spaulding said smoothly. “Aren’t you, wrangler Kelerchian? You were the one who recruited her to the ghost program, and it wasn’t a coincidence you met again on Altara.”

“Why you little, lying weasel—” Kelerchian made a sudden move as if he was going to leap right over the table and throw himself at Spaulding, but Hauler, who was sitting next to him, stood and put a meaty hand on his chest.

“Let’s hear him out,” Hauler said. “No sense in letting rumors fly around without putting them to rest. And then we can toss him off the ship.”

Kelerchian remained standing but made no further move. Spaulding nodded to Vincent, who had edged closer to the door.

The captain opened it to reveal Markus Ralian standing in the shadows of a broken, rubble-strewn Tarsonis hallway: Fagin’s slum headquarters. Ralian looked worse than before, the nasty scalp wound turning purple, gangrene working through his torn, puffy flesh. He raised one arm and pointed a finger at Nova, lidless eyes rolling in their sockets. I am thy father’s spirit, doomed for a certain term to walk the night and for the day confined to fast in fires, till the foul crimes done in my days of nature are burnt and purged away … He grinned. Old Earth’s Hamlet, in case you don’t recognize it. Fagin used to quote stuff like that all the time. Remember? Your foul crimes can’t be purged, though, can they, Nova? That’s why I’ll always be here with you.

Nova shuddered. You’re not real. Go away.

Ralian disappeared as Dr. Shaw walked through the door, escorted by two marines. Looking confused, he stopped just inside and stared at Nova, glanced nervously around at the hostile faces, then made as if to turn back. The marine on the right nudged his arm, and he stepped reluctantly to the center of the room next to Spaulding.

“What is this?” Hauler said. His voice had gotten quiet and his gaze flashed from Spaulding’s face to Shaw’s, then back again.

“My proof,” Spaulding said. He smiled. “Dr. Shaw, why don’t you tell these fine people what you told me about terrazine?”

“I—”

“Remember,” Spaulding said, “we have you on record. Lying now is treason, and I will make sure to see you hanged for it.”

Shaw looked at Hauler. “Sorry, sir,” he said. Then he squared his shoulders and stared straight ahead. “I examined Agent X41822N on two occasions, once immediately after the events on Altara, and once at her request several days later. She was suffering from delusions, visual and audible hallucinations, restored memory, and other … issues. My scans showed that she had been exposed to the terrazine gas the spectres use to augment their abilities.”

“And yet she told no one else about this—”

“She told me,” Mal said. “Look, this is ridiculous. Nova’s no terrorist. She fought them down in Augustgrad. Almost got herself killed.”

“That’s what she wanted us to think,” Spaulding said. “You were the one who got to her first outside the emperor’s quarters, weren’t you, wrangler Kelerchian? You took her report, entered it into the computer?”

“That’s standard procedure with wranglers and ghosts in this kind of situation, and you know it.”

“Convenient for you. I also can’t help but notice you calling her by her first name. A bit too familiar, don’t you think?”

Kelerchian’s face flushed red. “That has nothing to do—”

“She’s a ghost agent, one you recruited. I think it has everything to do with it. The fact is, if I hadn’t pushed the marine invasion when I did, Agent X41822N and her friends would have had enough time to break through that safe room and get to Mengsk. I spoiled your plans, and so you rushed to her side to make it look like she’d been badly hurt.” Spaulding’s chest was heaving now. “The truth is it was just a flesh wound. Communications were disabled; there’s no recording to prove anything.” He looked around at the group. “It’s like someone has been manipulating us from the inside, isn’t it? This investigation has gone nowhere ever since the ghost and this man were put in charge. She supposedly killed three spectres down on the ground, but all we have are the bodies of previously missing ghosts and no evidence whatsoever of their involvement in the plot. For all we know, these were hostages killed to make the fight look legitimate.”

“Their spectre suits must have a self-destruct,” Kelerchian said. “Just like ghost suits.”

“Again, pretty convenient for you. And what about back on Altara? You were there when the refinery blew up and destroyed most of the evidence we might have gathered from the operation. And then Agent X41822N arrived to pick you up. Lieutenant Ward, can you please tell us all what happened on the ground at that point?”

Ward stood up and cleared his throat. “When we arrived to provide support, the ghost ordered us to fall back. Said she would take care of everything. When I tried to force the issue, she threatened me.” He glanced at Nova and then quickly away. “She … said she would reveal some personal information that would embarrass me if I didn’t comply.”

“What kind of information?”

Ward looked sheepish. “I had an affair with a Hudderstown girl who was later raped and killed by a local boy. The ghost told me she would tell everyone I’d done it. Of course it wasn’t true, but I have a wife and two kids back home. I couldn’t afford any of that getting out.”

Ward sat down. The room was quiet for a moment, people shifting in their seats uncomfortably as what the major and Ward had said sunk in. Nova opened her mouth, then closed it. You slime-ball. She realized how clever Ward had been; if she tried to tell her story now, it would look as if she were lying, just as he’d said.

“What do you want, Spaulding?” Hauler said. “What’s the point of all this?”

“I want you to turn this ghost and Malcolm Kelerchian over to my custody,” Spaulding said. “I’ll take over this operation and run point from my ship. These so-called spectres are mine now.”

“Impossible,” Hauler said. “Emperor Mengsk has put X41822N and wrangler Kelerchian in charge of the investigation himself. I don’t have the authority.”

“When he hears about all this, he’ll change his mind. We’ve got more data on the effects of this terrazine—”

“Enough!” Hauler roared, suddenly slamming his fists down on the table, making everyone jump in their seats. “I’ve been patient, but this is my ship, and I will decide who does what on board. I still outrank you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I don’t—”

“You have a vendetta against her for whatever reason. I get it. But I don’t care. You’re not going to use this to get whatever you’re looking for out of her. You’re not going to use my people to derail this investigation. Now, Major Spaulding,” Hauler said, his words precise and cold as ice. “Get. Off. My. Ship.”

The room was deathly silent. The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Spaulding looked away and shrugged. “Whatever you say, Colonel,” he said. “But you’re making a mistake.”

He turned to go, motioning to Vincent and the two marines who had brought Shaw in.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass when you leave,” Kelerchian said, waving his fingers.

Spaulding turned back, smiling grimly. “I will discuss this with the emperor. And when I do, I’ll make sure to tell him how cooperative you were, wrangler.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“And you, Agent X41822N—I’ll see you again soon.”

The four men marched through the open door and disappeared down the hall. “Captain Rourke, please make sure they make it safely to their ship,” Hauler said, staring after them. Rourke nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

“All right,” Hauler said. “Shaw and Ward, I’m going to assume Spaulding has video of the two of you screwing your mother’s best friend, because any other reason for you to do this without talking to me first would be grounds for a court-martial. Understood?” The two men nodded. “Good. Ordinarily I’d be more concerned with what you both said in here, but right now, we’ve got more important things to do. Like find out what these terrorists’ next move will be. Agent X41822N, I don’t believe for one second that you’re involved with these dirtbags. I’m going to assume you have everything you need to continue, unless you tell me otherwise. Now let’s go find some bad guys.”

As the rest of them got up to leave, Nova pulled Hauler aside. Up until now, she hadn’t taken him into her confidence about the story Mengsk had told her back in the safe room, and had done all the digging she could on her own, but she decided it was time to start doing so. She and Mal could use all the help they could get.

“I need you to divert more resources from the ship’s computers to help me pull any records or search for any mention of a Project: Shadowblade,” she said. “People involved, details of the project, notices, military references. Anything you can possibly dig up. Get me whatever you can find on Tosh, Travski, and Toom too. But keep it quiet.”

Hauler studied her face for a moment, then sighed. “Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me anything more than that,” he said.

“I’d rather not, at this point.” She hesitated. “One more thing … see what you can find on a zerg infestation on a planet Shi a few years back.”

“Why’s that?”

“Might be related. Just tying up loose ends.”

“Fine. You’ll have whatever I can find by tonight.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let them get to you. You’re one of the best agents I’ve ever seen, and what you did in Augustgrad saved Mengsk’s life.”

Nova paused. It was rare for Hauler to show any kind of emotion, never mind a fatherly concern. The Dominion Marine Corps wasn’t exactly a touchy-feely sort of organization. Lose an arm, keep fighting on, the saying went. Lose a foot, hop along with it … She wondered if he really felt this way about her, or whether he was aware of more about her condition from Shaw than he was admitting, and was just trying to prop her up while he figured out what needed to be done. It was impossible to know without an idea of what had gone on during his conversation with Mengsk; Hauler was too good at masking his deeper thoughts, even from the best teeps in the sector. Just like Mengsk. She’d never encountered anyone with masking abilities quite like them.

Whether he was being genuine or not didn’t matter, she realized. The point was she would get his help and support right now, and that was enough. She had a job to do.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m not going to let the Dominion down.”

“I know you won’t,” Hauler said. “I’ll let you know what we find.”

An hour after the meeting with Spaulding, Nova went to see Mal Kelerchian in his private quarters.

They had discussed finding a quiet place to go over their respective notes and formulate a plan of attack. Both felt the growing urgency of the situation; they were running out of time. Spaulding would not let this go, and if he did gain an audience with Mengsk, there was no telling what might happen. Mengsk already distrusted ghosts in general, and it was clear from their time with him in the safe room that he was going to give them a short leash. They had to uncover the key to the spectres’ location and launch an aggressive attack before it was too late.

And yet Nova could not help feeling hopeless. The spectres had struck a blow at the very foundations of the Dominion and walked away almost unscathed. All attempts to track ships leaving Korhal’s airspace immediately after the attack had come up empty, as had a thorough search of the city itself. The spectres had disappeared into thin air. Nova had no real leads, and no way of knowing where they might strike next.

What was worse, she could not get what Tosh had told her about the events on Shi out of her mind. Could any of what he had said be true?

The hallway outside Kelerchian’s quarters was empty and quiet. As she stopped by his door and waited for the sensors to announce her presence, she tried to ignore the slight trembling in her hands and the dryness in her mouth. But the strange craving that had begun to ache like hunger pangs in her stomach made it difficult, and she could not help but wonder if things might get even worse. What else had the drug done to her? Was it permanent?

So this is what it feels like to be an addict. The thought did not help her mood.

Kelerchian opened the door. His quarters were smaller than her own, slightly stale and too warm. If she didn’t already know he was staying there, she would have thought the room was unoccupied; the only evidence of his presence was his familiar leather duster folded neatly on the bunk, and the hologram on the metal desk, open to showing a revolving star pattern and a line of bright red pinpricks to illustrate where the terrorist attacks had occurred.

She studied him for a moment as he moved aside to let her in. He seemed smaller without the duster, more vulnerable. She wondered if he’d removed it intentionally before she had arrived, and then immediately dismissed the thought. Mal was not the type to think like that. All she had sensed from him lately had been a mild embarrassment, as if he felt guilty about something he didn’t want to admit, even to himself.

“You look tight,” he said, closing the door. “Like you’re holding something in across the shoulders. Is the wound bothering you?”

“A little,” she admitted. “But nothing I can’t handle.” She looked at the tiny room, barely large enough for the two of them to move around. “Maybe we should have picked a better place to meet.”

“It’ll do. More privacy here.” Kelerchian pulled out the desk chair for her and turned it to face the bunk, and after she sat down, he sat on the bunk’s edge. “Like sleeping on a slab of rock,” he said, patting the thin mattress. “But you get used to it, don’t you? Life in the Dominion Marine Corps. Peace. Law. Order. Three squares a day and a place to lay your head. What else could a guy want?” He rubbed two fingers against his temple and winced.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Goddamn headaches.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s just stress. Got a particularly bad one earlier that won’t go away. My suit’s analgesics barely make a dent these days.”

He seemed to study her, and she resisted scanning him to get a glimpse of what he was thinking. She was getting used to her heightened abilities now, and it was easier to keep unwanted thoughts from intruding. At the same time, she felt an emotional connection to him that had only grown stronger since the events at the palace; she didn’t need to hear his thoughts to have a sense of how he felt.

Kelerchian cleared his throat. “So I was thinking about our Umojan link,” he said, “and the more I thought about it, the more sense it seemed to make. We know how the Ruling Council feels about the Dominion, and there are plenty of rumors of them undermining our efforts to control fringe world colonies. And they have a well-known hatred for the Ghost Academy. They’re careful, but they’re working at taking it down; everyone knows they were behind the propaganda about Colin Phash that Michael Liberty helped spread. Something like this might be right up their alley.”

“The Umojans wouldn’t be this brash.”

“That’s true—but they might finance someone else to do their dirty work. They have advanced technology. And they have their own ghost program. They would be interested in something like terrazine.”

“So what do we do?” Nova said. “We can’t attack Umoja. Not without proof.”

“We put some political pressure on them,” Kelerchian said. “Let them know we need answers—squeeze them and see what comes out. I put a call in to a friend who knows Senator Huntley.”

“That will take time.”

Kelerchian nodded. “Meantime, I had my ship, November, run some private searches on the term Gehenna. It occurred to me that since Mengsk had warned us about a possible traitor inside his camp, and since communications at Augustgrad were disrupted, our network might be compromised. I wanted to keep this close to the vest. You might be interested in what I found.” He got up and went to the hologram, standing close enough to brush her shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice.

“You named your ship after me,” Nova said.

He glanced at her. “What?”

“Your ship—the November. It’s for me, isn’t it?”

“You were my most successful recruit,” he said. His face had reddened again. “I was proud of being a part of bringing in one of the most promising ghost agents in history. It seemed appropriate, that’s all.”

But it was more than that, and they both knew it. Nova was flattered and shocked; nobody had ever done anything like that for her before. Most men were too frightened or uncomfortable with her talents to want to be anywhere near her. Others simply wanted to use her in various ways. But Mal treated her like a person, rather than a weapon or something to be feared and avoided. She could sense his honesty and his goodness, deep within. She remembered once again how he had rescued her from Fagin’s slum in the Tarsonis Gutter, where she had become known as an enforcer called “the Blonde,” and where she had first learned of the Ghost Academy’s mind wipes, which had seemed like the perfect escape from her tortured past. He was a different man now than he had been then, more battle-hardened and confident.

I feel something for this man, something more than friendship.

The realization stunned her. She’d heard plenty about people’s emotions consuming them, making them feel and act in strange ways. Her exposure to terrazine had awoken memories and feelings of attachment to others that she hadn’t felt in years. She’d had strong feelings for Tosh a long time ago, but those had been wiped away, and she’d never really loved a man before. Even the idea of it made her uncomfortable. She was younger than he; he was the wrangler who recruited her, and they had to work together—and, of course, at the end of the mission, she would have her memory wiped, so she wouldn’t remember anything anyway.

Surely this couldn’t be love. But it was something. The general rule for ghosts was to not get involved with anyone, and for good reason.

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Mal, I—”

“It’s just a ship,” he said quickly, looking away. “Don’t get a swelled head over it, okay? Last thing we need is a ghost with an attitude problem.” He chuckled. The blush had spread fiercely over his neck, turning it bright red.

“Of course,” she said. And then another thought hit her; if she was able to hear his inner dialogue when she wanted to, could he hear hers as easily—even when she chose not to share it? He already had a sensitivity to psionic abilities, which was why he’d been recruited to become a wrangler in the first place. And he’d been exposed to terrazine on Altara too.

If that was true, what had he just discovered about her?

Now it was her turn to blush, and she stood up and took two steps away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. There was no room to breathe in here, and her head was swimming. Ralian’s gravelly voice came back to her. Your foul crimes can’t be purged, can they, Nova? She was damaged goods, no other way to look at it. She’d committed enough crimes to make her run away from her own past, and she couldn’t imagine anyone else would want to be with her either.

For some reason, Gabriel Tosh came to mind again. A rush of new emotions swelled within her: new, more intense feelings of camaraderie and being part of a team. Team Blue. Kath, with her ready smile, fiery spirit, and loyalty; Lio, with his intensity and vulnerability, his need to be liked and respected; and Tosh, his leadership and wise counsel, his calm under fire.

Freedom. The chance to live a real life among old friends, apart from the ghost program, with all the joys and sorrows it would bring. Could that ever be something she wanted to do? She was a ghost, trained to act alone. That was her world and, until recently, everything she remembered of her life. It seemed impossible to imagine anything different now.

“Keyword ‘Gehenna’ came up with several hits,” Kelerchian went on, and she turned back to find him working with the hologram, bringing up search response data. “The first two are references to a star in distant space and the idea from Old Earth of Gehenna as a valley of fire opening up the pits of Hell. But the third comes from an eyewitness report of an attack on a military platform orbiting Maltair IV a couple of years back. The attack fits the pattern of the spectres in some ways—a strategic target, in and out fast, few witnesses—but it hadn’t been connected to the others before. Everyone on-site—over five hundred marines—was killed by an explosion that destroyed the platform, except for one man, who was found in an escape pod drifting in the area. He was irrational, babbling incoherently.”

“Let me guess—he was raving about black-clad monsters able to appear and disappear at will.”

“Not quite. That would have flagged the report for sure. But he kept saying one thing over and over on the recordings from sick bay during transport—something that sounded enough like Gehenna for my search parameters to log it a hit. I have the recording right here.”

He brought up the audio, and they both stood in the silence of the room as an eerie, ghostlike voice began to hiss through the hologram’s speakers. Although it was faint, and the man’s voice was ragged and weak from shouting, Nova had to agree: it sounded as if he was saying “Gehenna Station.”

“If he’d been brain-panned,” she said, “he might have been caught up in a negative thought loop. A word or phrase he’d sensed just before they fried him, repeating itself. Like a recording that keeps skipping.”

“Exactly.” Kelerchian nodded. “And guess which unit was first to respond?”

Spaulding’s ruddy face popped into her head, and she didn’t know whether she’d sensed it from him, or whether she just knew. “The Annihilators.”

“Bingo.” He tapped keys and brought up a log of marine activity. “You see here, they were the closest battlecruiser in the area. On site in less than an hour.”

“What were they doing there?”

“Apparently nothing. They had recently engaged a pirate ship on orders from Augustgrad, but that was hours away. They hadn’t logged any activity since then.”

They both stood there, thinking. Suddenly everything seemed to click into place. She should have been feeling good. All signs pointed to someone inside the Dominion’s inner circle orchestrating Project: Shadowblade. The false orders that sent Kath Toom to Altara was one, the scrambled communications in Augustgrad another, the strategic attacks on military locations yet another. Nova remembered Hauler’s hunch that whoever had planned the terrorist attacks had a military background. Spaulding’s hatred of ghosts, and of Nova in particular, seemed clear. She was sure he would like nothing less than to destroy the ghost program, and someone like that would certainly appeal to the Umojan Ruling Council.

“If the Annihilators were involved, why would they show up at the scene of the crime?”

“Because they’re clever,” Kelerchian said. “Send in some spies to blow up the platform, then magically appear to help out. The last people you’d expect to be guilty are the rescuers themselves. There’s something else too. If this was their first hit, they might not have had the capability to evade detection the way they seem to now. The Annihilators’ battlecruiser would have been tracked leaving the scene. This way, they look innocent and get away with murder, right under the emperor’s nose.”

“Maybe. I still feel like we’re missing something.” Nova thought back to Spaulding’s words as he left the war room: And you, Agent X41822N—I’ll see you again soon. It all felt too easy to her, as if handed over on a silver platter.

What exactly was Gehenna Station?

Kelerchian kept rubbing at his temples. He grimaced. “Damn headache’s getting worse. I swear it feels like someone’s about to split me wide open.” He sat down heavily on the narrow bunk and put his head in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was muffled. “I don’t feel so good. Dizzy. You smell something strange?”

“Take it easy, Mal. Breathe.” Nova tried to go to him, but her legs seemed to buckle as the room stretched and bowed outward and a wave of nausea swept over her. Something was very wrong, and she had just a moment to wonder whether she was collapsing under the weight of pure exhaustion or whether it was something far worse before she fell forward to her knees, her limbs going numb, and as she tipped over onto the floor, she felt herself drifting down a deep, dark hole to oblivion.