Fire With Fire

who was responsible.”

Trevor added the final piece. “Which they couldn’t do by just by sitting at the edge of our space. And we all know who had legal access to our system besides the Dornaani.”

Caine felt his skin grow very cold. “That would be our good friends the Ktor, in their role as Auxiliary Custodians.”

Downing frowned. “Which makes it likely that they are somehow connected with the faceless adversaries that Nolan code-named ‘Circe.’” He stared at the tabletop. “I wonder: do you think the Ktor might have had a direct hand in the deaths of Nolan and Tarasenko, and in some of the other ‘odd events’ we’ve been unable to explain?”

Caine shrugged. “Could be. But how would they recruit agents among us in the first place, or even establish contact? As Thandla discovered, they’ve got a radically different biology: hell, their natural environment is so cold that we can’t even make use of the same planets. So how are we a threat to them? Why would they hate us so much?” Caine shook his head. “No: it still doesn’t add up. Something’s missing.”

“I’ll tell you what else is missing.” Trevor’s voice and eyes were hollow. “The reason why my Dad never told any of us why Elena was clinically depressed after she returned from the Moon. Or who Connor’s father was. He knew answers that could have saved all of us-but particularly Elena-a lot of grief.”

Caine nodded. “Yes, Nolan knew-but he had to keep those facts to himself.”

“Oh, c’mon. At least he could have told Elena.”

Richard shook his head. “Trevor, Elena is the one person Nolan absolutely could not tell about Caine. We can predict the course of events if she had learned the truth: Elena would want Caine removed from cold sleep. Your father refuses. She asks him how he can expect his own grandson to grow up without a father-and why is it so important to keep Caine in cold sleep, anyway? What was Nolan to say then? That even if Caine was cooperative, he couldn’t be released without a huge, smoke-screening story to throw the news jackals off his scent? That any detailed questions about Caine would have led back to, and unraveled, IRIS?”

Trevor frowned, ground his molars, and then turned sharply towards Caine. “So,” he snapped, “are you going to marry my sister?”

Caine blinked-and became aware of the scent of Opal’s shampoo on his shirt collar. At precisely the same moment, a memory-Elena moaning, sway-backed, hanging on to the bedposts as they moved together-tumbled newfound into his mind. “Hell,” Caine rasped, trying to fight his way out of the conflicting sense-memories, “would Elena even want to marry me? Besides, I have to straighten things out with Opal first.”

Trevor nodded. “Yeah. Okay. And given your-uh, situation-with Major Patrone, I don’t envy you your lady problems right now.”

“Me neither,” sighed Caine. “But I’m thinking that maybe Elena got over me long ago. She didn’t seem bothered by Opal-and she sure didn’t seem interested in my company.”

Now Trevor smiled. “Oh, brother-and I guess that’s almost literally true, now-you don’t know how to read my sister just yet. Yeah, she was dodging you, but probably because seeing the two of you post-corpsicle lovebirds together was making her crazy.”

Downing took a very deep breath. “Which brings up a touchy subject. About Major Patrone, Caine. Your relationship with her is not exactly a chance event. She works for me.”

“I know that.”

“Caine, I mean she has always worked for me-every second of your time together.”

Caine glared at Downing, felt his open hands becoming fists, and didn’t really care what happened next. “So tell me, Richard: is there any part of my life that you didn’t fuck with?”

MENTOR

Downing was beginning to worry that he might have to physically defend himself when Trevor intervened. “Hold on, Caine. Much as I hate saying so, this scheme with Opal sounds like it came from my dad. Am I right, Uncle Richard?”

Downing’s first impulse-to defend Nolan, to take the heat as he always had-faded. What is the use, here, in this moment, with these people? He swallowed, nodded: “It was Nolan’s plan. I didn’t like it.”

Trevor frowned. “I hate saying so, but Dad knew what he was doing recruiting a woman to be your guard, Caine. That would be the only way to control Elena once she learned you were back.”

“Huh?” said Caine.

Downing nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean. Knowing Elena, if Caine had shown up again unattached, I suspect she would have read your father the riot act and become thoroughly-and quite vocally-unmanageable.”

“Hell, she’d have called a press conference just to flip him a bird,” drawled Trevor.

“Er…yes, probably so. But if she saw Caine already in the company of another lady, then-”

“Yeah,” interrupted Trevor, “that’s my point: Elena’s a class act. She wouldn’t go barging in under those circumstances. I’ll bet that’s just how Dad set it up.” Trevor’s certitude sounded suspiciously like a lament: these were hard-very hard-things to learn and hear about an idolized father.

Downing suppressed a sigh: he had known this side of Nolan for over twenty years, and even that didn’t make today’s revelations any easier to hear. But it all made sense now, particularly Nolan’s understated pessimism about Caine and Opal’s long-term prospects as a couple. He’d never wanted a permanent connection between them, because then Caine and Elena could not be reunited. Meaning he had used Opal miserably.

Trevor was apparently reflecting on the uneven ethics of his father, as well. “Given all the family secrets Dad kept from us, and all the shady crap he pulled, I guess I’m no longer so surprised that he had you sneak his body onto that government clipper for out-shift to another system.”

Oh Christ; how did Trevor learn that? “Trevor, I-”

But Trevor wasn’t listening. “I get the charade of the cremation and the memorial: an empty casket would have prompted a lot of questions. But why didn’t Dad tell us he had found a way to be buried outsystem, Richard?”

Downing closed his eyes and hated each of the four words separately, ferociously, before he uttered them: “I cannot tell you.”

Trevor frowned. “You mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean I cannot tell you anything about it.”

Trevor sat open-mouthed for three very long seconds. “Damn it, Uncle Richard, you are going to tell me where my own father’s body is, and why it’s there, or so help me, I’ll-”

“Trev. Please. I can’t tell you about how your father’s body was ultimately handled because I don’t know.”

Trevor, who was half out of his seat, stopped. “You don’t-?”

Downing looked away. “It was all arranged after his death. It wasn’t his-or my-idea.”

“Then whose idea was it?”

Might as well tell him. “The Dornaani.”

“The-?” Trevor fell back in his seat. “What the-what the fuck do they want with Dad’s body? And why the hell did you give it to them?”

“Trevor, I don’t know what they want. But they-well, they seem to revere your father. And he wanted to be buried among the stars. And they made it clear that they would both see to that request, and also be-indebted-to us if we granted them the honor of doing so.”

“So you traded away Dad’s body for some alien goodwill? What are you, Richard, a fucking monster? He was your friend-your closest friend!”

Downing felt his eyes start to burn. “Yes, he was, Trevor. And this is what he’d have wanted. And you know it.” Trevor’s stare had gone from cold to arctic, and was dropping toward absolute zero. “Trev, please understand: I wanted to tell you about your father, but the President ordered it kept quiet.”

Trevor’s eyes did not change. His voice was emotionless. “Is there more on the day’s agenda, sir, or are we