Eternity's End (10 page)

"We're grateful you didn't," Harriet said.

"No doubt you are. No doubt you are." McGinnis pointed to the side of the flyer near the main inductor cowling, where a meter-long burn mark showed the lasershrap hit from the exploding missile. "I'm not overjoyed at having missiles fired over my property. Is there an explanation for this?"

Legroeder bent to inspect the damage, sobered to see just how close they had come to being blown out of the sky. "We'll tell you what we know. But it's not much." He hesitated, then stuck out a hand. "I'm Renwald Legroeder, and this is Harriet Mahoney."

"Legroeder," McGinnis said grimly, resting his own hands on his hips. "
Rigger
Legroeder?"

Legroeder let his hand drop. "You've heard of me?"

Harriet forced a chuckle. "You've been in the news, Legroeder. I'm sure even out here, Mr. McGinnis has heard of your case."

"Well," McGinnis said. "I don't pay a lot of attention. But I have heard of you." He cocked his head. "They say you were responsible for handing over a ship to Golen Space pirates."

Legroeder felt a flash of anger, but Harriet put a calming hand on his arm. "That is what I am
accused
of," he said grudgingly.

McGinnis barked a laugh. "Well, I didn't say I believed it, did I?" He stared out into the woods for a moment. "Did you all come out here to see me? If you did, it was a risky thing to do."

"Apparently so," Legroeder agreed.

McGinnis turned to Harriet. "And your name was—"

"Harriet Mahoney. I'm assisting Legroeder in trying to prove his innocence." Harriet adjusted her glasses as she returned McGinnis's gaze. Either she had recovered quickly from the trauma of the attack, or she was hiding it well. "We undertook this... visit... because we were hoping you could help us."

"Is that so? And what gives you that hope?"

As McGinnis cocked his head, Legroeder observed that the man's left eye was synthetic; then he realized that a good portion of the man's
face
was synthetic. Legroeder's glance did not go unnoticed, but McGinnis said nothing.

"I apologize if we were mistaken," Harriet said. "But your name came up in some research we were doing. You are known as a collector of historical materials on the subject of rigging—particularly materials dating back a century or so. As it happens, we are very much in need of information from that period."

"In order to prove Rigger Legroeder's innocence?"

"Precisely." Harriet patted her forehead with a handkerchief. "Mr. McGinnis, do you suppose that we could step out of the sun somewhere? I'm feeling rather faint, after that close call we just had."

McGinnis grunted, not answering. He bent to make a closer examination of the scorched side of the flyer. When he straightened up, he had a troubled look on his face. He again gazed up into the sky, as though struggling with some decision. And then, as quickly as the cloud had come over him, he relaxed. "Yes, of course. I'm being a poor host. You both must be shaken up. That was a very fine landing under the circumstances, Rigger Legroeder."

"Thank you. Just Legroeder will be fine."

"Legroeder, then," said McGinnis. A smile worked at his lips. "I guess there's someone out there who doesn't like you much. Or maybe doesn't like lawyers," he added with a glance at Harriet.

Harriet's eyes gleamed. "Did I mention that I was a lawyer?"

McGinnis looked startled. Another shadow seemed to cross his brow. "Now that you mention it, I don't recall. I—suppose I must have seen your name in the... news, too. Let's go inside, shall we?"

As they walked to the house, he spoke to his dog. "Stay and watch out here, Rufus." The retriever trotted to take up a position under a tree, and stood alertly as the humans made their way across the lawn to the side door.

"If your attackers come back, my security field should keep them out," McGinnis said, leading them into his living room. The place looked like a converted hunting lodge. The living room breathed with space; it had an open-beam ceiling and wood-paneled walls. A ceremonial sword and several sidearms were mounted on the walls, along with half a dozen holos of military spacecraft.

"May I ask how you happened to have a forcefield around your house?" Legroeder said. "Not that I'm ungrateful, mind you."

"You can ask." McGinnis gestured toward a cluster of seats near a large stone fireplace. "Make yourselves comfortable while I fix something to drink."

Legroeder sank into a seat near the fireplace. A crackling fire billowed up with a soft rush. Legroeder closed his eyes, forced himself to try to relax... to focus on the warmth of the fire, the smell of the wood smoke, the crackle of flames. His thoughts drifted inevitably to the weapons fire of attacking pirate ships, and missiles in the air—and he winced, opening his eyes. He twisted around in his chair.

Harriet had seated herself on a small sofa facing a broad wooden coffee table. Her compad was out. She beckoned to Legroeder, and he moved to the seat opposite her. When McGinnis returned, carrying a tray with three tall drinks, Harriet lowered her glasses on their chain. "Is there some way I could make a call from here? We need to order a replacement flyer, but my signal can't seem to get past your forcefield."

McGinnis rested the tray on the table. "Of course. I'll see to it in a moment." He passed out coasters and glasses. "I think you'll like this. It's an infusion made from the leaves of the nascacia tree."

Legroeder held his glass up, peering through a reddish amber liquid and several ice cubes. He took a cautious sip, then another. The drink had a sharp tang, with a hint of sweetness. He nodded appreciatively.

McGinnis didn't respond. He was standing with his eyes closed, concentrating. "Hmph," he muttered, looking annoyed. Returning to the bar, he tapped at a control panel. "Try your transmission now," he called.

Harriet touched her earring, then typed at the pad.

"Are you getting through?"

"I'm afraid not."

McGinnis did some more fiddling, then returned to join them. "Whatever's wrong, I've got my house system checking into it. It should let me know when it finds the problem." He looked preoccupied as he took a seat at the end of the table. But rather than speaking of whatever was troubling him, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "All right, then—you've come a long way because you think I can help you. What is it you want? And why did someone want to shoot you out of the sky to keep you from getting it?"

Harriet cleared her throat. "What we want is information about an old rigger ship. As for why someone would kill us to keep us from talking to you... well, I was rather hoping
you
might be able to tell
us
."

McGinnis inclined his head. "Really. What ship are you interested in?"

"If you've seen the news reports, you probably already know. The passenger liner
Impris
. The Flying Dutchman of Space." Harriet paused, waiting for a reaction. McGinnis said nothing, but his eyes seemed to narrow. "Oddly enough," Harriet continued, "we've found very little information about her in either the RiggerGuild library or the public library."

"That
is
odd, isn't it?" McGinnis said, in a gravelly tone that suggested he didn't find it odd at all.

"But we heard—rumor, I guess you would have to say—that some of the original reports on the ship had been removed for safekeeping." Harriet scrutinized McGinnis's face. "Would you, by any chance, know anything about that?"

McGinnis's eyes closed, and an expression of pain crossed his face, unmistakable even through the synthetic skin. For a few heartbeats, he seemed removed from their company, as if his thoughts were occupied far, far away. Legroeder watched him, wondering what inner struggle was going on in this man. And what did it have to do with them? He also wondered, suddenly, what augmentation McGinnis had beneath that synthetic skin. And was that augmentation one of the reasons McGinnis lived out here like a hermit?

When McGinnis's eyes blinked open, he exhaled suddenly, as though a great tension had been released from his body. His voice sounded husky. "Why, may I ask, are you interested in this... ship?" His gaze shifted from one to the other, and came to rest on Legroeder. "You weren't thinking of
looking
for her, or something..."

"As a matter of fact," Legroeder answered softly, "I've already seen her."

"You—"
McGinnis said with a start, and then cut himself off. "Please continue."

Legroeder nodded, feeling a band of tension in his forehead. "I've seen it. And I've heard lies about it. And I need to know the truth—to
prove
the truth. This has great personal importance to me. So if you—" He paused, realizing that McGinnis's hand was trembling.

McGinnis placed his half-empty glass on the table and stared at it, as if it held answers to his questions. His gaze caught Legroeder's. "Tell me," he whispered.

"If you've seen the news reports, you must know—"

McGinnis shook his head.
"Tell me."

Legroeder glanced at Harriet. What nerve had they struck here? Drawing a deep breath, he told McGinnis the story. The
Impris
sighting. The pirate attack. His years of captivity and servitude. His escape. And finally, his framing by the RiggerGuild inquest panel. Even in brief, it was a tortuous tale. When he finished, he sat back with a sigh, trying to push the reawakened memories back into their bottle.

McGinnis rotated his glass in his hands, contemplating. "Well." He gazed up at the ceiling. "You're right about my having information about
Impris
. Nobody's looked at it in years. I probably have the closest thing there is to a complete record. As complete as there
can
be, considering that we never learned what happened to her. Except—" he paused, looking down "—you've just confirmed reports I've heard over the years, that she's being used by present day pirates as a lure for unsuspecting ships." He shot a piercing glance at Legroeder. "You might want to think about what that means, in terms of your being framed."

Legroeder opened his mouth wordlessly.

Harriet spoke sharply. "Would you be willing to share the information you have with us?"

McGinnis pressed three fingertips to his forehead, scowling.
"Yes,"
he hissed... but as though he were speaking to someone else.

"Mr. McGinnis? Are you all right?"

Pain flickered across the man's face. "I'm...
fine
."

Harriet exchanged alarmed glances with Legroeder. "Is there anything we should—?"

McGinnis blinked his eyes open. "
No
. I'm fine now. Really." He grimaced. "I don't... know much more than you about the present state of
Impris
, I suspect. But if you're interested in knowing the truth of her past... I'll show you what I have." He seemed to have difficulty getting the words out. He pressed his hands to the tabletop, as if steadying himself. His chin jutted, eyes challenging them. "Not many people are interested in the truth, you know."

"The truth is what we're here for," said Harriet.

"Then I have what you need. The whole reason I've kept these documents here... is to keep the truth alive. Truths. Not just about one ship, but about a larger historical matter—" he paused, as though gathering strength "—that for over a hundred years has been nothing but a lie."

Legroeder shook his head in confusion. "What—?"

"You came here to ask about a ship. But what you really need to know about is dishonor and betrayal between
worlds
—in wartime
and
in peace." McGinnis's voice hardened to a knife edge. "A betrayal that continues to this day—unrecognized, and written right into our history books." He sighed. "The disappearance of
Impris
was one of a great many mysteries left at the end of the War of a Thousand Suns. Most of them remain unsolved, and forgotten. But for some—like
Impris
—answers were fabricated, and perpetuated, for reasons that have nothing to do with the facts. But there
are
real answers... if you want to know them." He glared in the direction of the crackling fire, his black eyebrows knitted together. "If you want to read them for yourselves."

Harriet seemed taken aback by his ferocity. "Yes, we do—very much. But may I ask something first? Why was this information removed from the public record? Was it deliberately suppressed? Is there some raider influence here?"

McGinnis barked a laugh. He slapped a fist into his open palm and sat trembling. His lips barely moved as he whispered,
"Get... out of my... you little shit!"
With a shiver, he said a little too loudly, "Sorry—yes—it was suppressed."

McGinnis looked to Legroeder as if he were about to explode. "Who suppressed it?" Legroeder asked.

McGinnis spoke in halting words, as if against some resistance. "I cannot—tell you that—now. But I can tell you why—the lies were told—a hundred years ago, and still are, today."

"Yes?"

McGinnis's breath rasped. "Blame the enemies of the Narseil."

"Excuse me?"

McGinnis seemed to gain strength, and his voice became almost normal. "Back then, there were those who wanted the Narseil blamed for the loss of a prized ship. It could have been any ship. But when
Impris
disappeared, the perfect excuse presented itself. Look at the Narseil and the Centrist Worlds. They were allies against the Kyber in the War of a Thousand Suns—until the end of the war, when
suddenly they weren't, anymore
."

Legroeder frowned. "That's what the RiggerGuild library says. That it was suspicion that they'd destroyed
Impris
that ruined relations with the Narseil. But
Impris
wasn't destroyed—I've
seen
it! It's out there!" His pulse was racing now, with hope that he might finally learn what was behind the RiggerGuild lies. But why would anyone have betrayed the Narseil, and what could it possibly mean now, one hundred years later? What connection did it have to pirates using
Impris
as bait?

"Perhaps," said McGinnis, "this would be a good time to show you what
was
known, until it was buried under the lies. Would you like to see the report of the inspector who investigated the ship before it disappeared?"