The truths that are left unknown are often the ugliest.

— Erich Quizibian, c. 5074 PD

14 Decem, 5249 PD

Frederick was the first in, despite his limp.  Daci trailed in his wake, casting looks back over her shoulder, past her fellow Marshals and to the Commonwealth Inspector Brendan was escorting.  Lindsay swallowed hard.

That can’t be the inspector.  He’s too young for that.

Isn’t he?

She glanced toward Frederick and for the first time, she realized how young he must have been when Mimir died, when he ran point on that investigation and it almost cost him his life.  Though neither he nor her parents or her aunt and uncle were necessarily young, they certainly weren’t anywhere near past their prime.  Mimir had died before she was born, probably before the inspector had been, too.

Plenty of time to grow up with Frederick Rose as your martyred hero.  She felt the feather-light brush of Brendan’s thoughts against hers and glanced toward him, just barely catching sight of his brief, faint smile. He was thinking the same thing.

She straightened from her lean against the sideboard.  “Inspector.  Welcome to Halo Ridge.  Our hosts are seeing to some refreshments.  Please, have a seat.”  She waved toward the array of chairs lining either side of the long antique dining table.

Adam arched a brow slightly at her even as Rachel smiled.  “Inspector Winston, this is Consul Lindsay Farragut.”

Winston’s brows knit momentarily as he leaned across the wide, dark surface of the table to shake her hand.  “Young to be on the Rose Council, aren’t you?”

Lindsay smiled faintly.  “Aren’t you young to be a Commonwealth Inspector on a solo mission?”

He smiled ruefully. “Touché.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, Consul.”

“I hope it will be likewise, Inspector.  Please, have a seat.  Doctor and Consul Grace will be joining us in a few minutes.”

Winston blinked.  “Husband and wife?”

“Brother and sister,” Brendan correct as he came around the table to sink into the chair next to Lindsay.  “This is the house their late parents built.”

“Ah.”  Winston settled quietly into his own chair.  The Marshals, Rachel, and Frederick likewise seated themselves as Kara and Ezra joined them.  Kara had a pot of tea and a tray of tiny sandwiches and tarts while Ezra followed behind, juggling the array of mugs and plates that they’d need to enjoy the perfunctory refreshments.  Brendan stood from his seat quickly to help, earning a nod of silent thanks from Ezra as he relieved his friend of some of his burdens.

“Inspector, this is Dr. Ezra Grace and Consul Kara Grace-Forester,” Adam said quietly as he took the teapot from Kara and settled it on the table. “Kara, Ezra, this is Inspector Timrel Winston of the New Earth Commonwealth Inspector General Corps.”

Winston opened his mouth to greet the pair, but he was cut off.

“You have questions.” Rachel leaned forward slightly, steepling her fingers as she studied Winston, her voice quiet.  “And you’ll get your answers to them about the Whispers.”

“You said you have footage,” Winston said.  “I’ll need access to that if I’m going to find out who attacked the Wanderers there.”

“You’ll get it,” Rachel assured him, her voice still quiet.  Lindsay felt an uncomfortable flutter in her stomach.  What was her aunt doing?

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Winston observed.

“You’re very astute,” Rachel said.  “There is a but coming.  You’ll get access to the films once we’re satisfied that you’re not just here to rubber stamp a decision that’s already been made back on New Earth—possibly before you were ever dispatched here.”

Winston just stared at her, the color draining from his face.  His hands, which had been laid flat on the table, curled slowly into fists.  “I’m here to find the truth, Speaker,” he said firmly.  “No one back on New Earth is going to tell me what my findings are.  Sephora Damerian is well aware of that.  It’s why she sent me instead of someone else.  I can’t be bought.”  He glanced toward Frederick for a moment.  “Much like you and she couldn’t be bought back in the days after Mimir.”

Frederick nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Though that’s not to say we weren’t approached quietly once or twice—more she than I.  After I called out Senator Cormack for trying to bribe me into looking the other way on another case, I gained a reputation for being incorruptible.”

“It just made him a more tempting target,” Daci muttered.  Frederick glanced at her and she just shook her head. “They didn’t approach you because they were too busy approaching me—thinking that where they’d failed to influence you, I might succeed.  I turned them all down flat.”

Lindsay reached for Brendan’s hand under the table.  Suddenly, our situation seems a lot easier to handle.

“You never told me,” Frederick said softly.  “Why didn’t you say something?”

“And make you an even bigger target?  You’d have gone after them, Frederick.  You’d have gone after them and that only could have spelled more trouble for both of us.”

Frederick looked like he was about to say more, but Rachel cleared her throat, staring pointedly at the pair for a moment.

Yes.  What Brendan and I have to deal with is much, much easier to handle than that.

Rachel waited a moment longer before she turned her attention back to Winston.  “Thank you, Inspector.  I think that allays our concerns to a certain degree.”

“But only to a certain degree.” Winston smiled wryly.  “What do you need from me before I get the answers I need?”

“Answers.”

Lindsay sucked in a breath, gaze snapping toward Alana Chase, who stood in the doorway, ramrod straight, face nearly as pale as her flaxen hair and her once-cybered arm cradled in a sling.  Even as everyone else twisted to look at her, Ezra started to rise from his seat, shock etched in every line of his face.

Alana waved him back into his seat and then focused on Winston again.  “We need answers.  The Commonwealth allows all manner of atrocities to be perpetuated, all sorts of indignities suffered, and they do nothing to stop them.  But the minute it looks like the Foundation might even be peripherally involved in the death of a planet—a planet that died in a no more or less spectacular way than Mimir—the newsnets light up, the Parliament starts talking about sanctions and worse, and a Commonwealth Inspector shows up on our doorstep and demands answers.  Well, you’ll not get them until I get mine, Inspector.”

She stabbed a finger at Lindsay.  “Her parents were held for two decades by two different congloms as bloody test subjects because they had the misfortune not only to have been born psychic, but to have led the survivors on Mimir in their fight to hold on to what was left of their bloody planet.  That was well after her father was conceived because the Eurydice Compact dangled my grandmother in front of an ambassador for the Psychean Guard—hoping to gain leverage and an asset by holding her.  Thanks be to whatever gods still exist that Alexander Channing had the sense to listen to the woman when she said to take his son and run and not to look back.”  Alana prowled closer to the table like a wolf moving in on its kill.  “The congloms use children as weapons and soldiers, Inspector.  Did you know that?”

Winston took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  “There are a lot of things the congloms do that I may or may not be aware of—and may or may not be able to do anything about, no matter how much I many want to, Miss…?”

“Colonel,” Alana said, her tone clipped.  “Colonel Alana Chase, late of the Foundation defense forces and late of the Eurydice Compact’s Death’s Head Brigade.”  She leaned toward him.  “I was their weapon,” she breathed, her blue-eyed gaze intense.  The seething rage that rolled off her longtime friend made Lindsay shiver, made her fingers tighten around Brendan’s hand.

When she glanced at her husband for the barest moment, she saw that his lips had compressed into a fine, pale line, his eyes wide but gaze flinty.  Somehow, impossibly, he must have expected this.

I wonder how.

“You’re a refugee from the Compact.”  Winston’s words were accompanied by a tone of wonderment, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.

“I’m a defector from the Compact,” Alana corrected, straightening.  “I came here to protect my cousin because her father couldn’t.  The assets that the Compact and Chinasia are demanding returned—they’re in this room.”  Her voice dropped to a hiss.  “They’re human beings.”

Winston straightened in his chair, sucking in a deep breath.  “I was afraid of that,” he said quietly.  He looked up at Alana slowly.  “You, then.  And Commander Cho, unless I’m mistaken.”

“No,” Alana said.  “You’re not mistaken.”  Some of her anger seemed to drain away momentarily.  Her gaze flicked toward Ezra, who sat next to his sister, pale-faced in shock, his jaw tight and hands locked around his mug of tea in a death-grip.  Her expression softened, though only for a moment.  Then the steel was back, the angry fire in her eyes, the killer’s mask dropping back over her face.  “I imagine they’re rather  miffed at losing America Farragut and Grant Channing as well, though I think if they were to admit that they’d held them for as long as they have, even the Commonwealth  may have something to say about it.”

She leaned toward him, almost into his face.  “Why does the Commonwealth allow it?”

“Allow what?”  Winston seemed genuinely confused by the question.  Lindsay winced at the subtle shift that caused in Alana’s expression, tilting her even closer to the very edge of her control.

“Allow child soldiers,” Alana snapped.  “Allow the destruction of our humanity from our most tender beginnings.”  She pointed to her arm, the one that was no longer sheathed in metal as it once had been.  ‘They started molding me into a killer when I was eight years old.  Eight.  They cut into my body and sowed the seeds for what they turned me into.”  She looked at Brendan. “When did they take you from your parents?”

“I was ten,” Brendan said quietly.  “Most of my training cadre didn’t survive to become pilots, either.”

Winston was white.

Adam cleared his throat quietly.  “You didn’t know?”

“No,” Winston said, his voice a bare whisper.  “I didn’t know.  I—I should have known, but I never—”

“You didn’t want to,” Alana said bitterly.  “No one ever does.  The Commonwealth is useless.  It can’t protect anyone.”  She straightened, looking toward Rachel.  “We can only protect ourselves.”

With that, she pivoted on her heel and walked out the door.