Eternity's End (6 page)

Legroeder stared at her in bewilderment. "But that's not—I didn't hear anything about any testimony—"

"No. You didn't," said Harriet. "And isn't that interesting—especially given the damaging nature of his testimony?"

Legroeder opened his mouth again. "
What
damaging testimony?"

"I can show it to you later, if you like. The fact that they hid it from you is something we can use in your defense. I assume the testimony will be brought into an actual trial. But in this preliminary inquest, they didn't need it; all they wanted was to deny you the support of the RiggerGuild. But someone pretty high up must be scared about something. Or at the very least, dismayed by your sudden arrival here. Dismayed enough to use hidden testimony against you, apparently in hopes of shutting you away forever. Why do you suppose they would do that?"

"I don't know. Why?"

Harriet sighed, frowning. "That's what we have to find out. I think there's a lot more to this than meets the eye. But right now, all I have is suspicions." She studied Legroeder for a moment. "It wasn't easy to get you freed on bail, you know. I think the only reason they
set
bail for you was that they weren't expecting someone like me to come along and help you." She pressed her fingertips together in concentration. "You know, if you're convicted of setting up the
L.A
. for capture, you could be mindwiped, or locked away for life."

Legroeder tightened his lips, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry—you didn't need to hear that." Harriet attempted a smile. "So, Rigger Legroeder... would you like me to represent you?"

"Well, I don't have any m—"

"There's no fee up front, just a percentage if we ever go for damages and collect anything. We probably won't. I'm not in this for the money."

Legroeder was having trouble focusing; his head was filled with questions. "Did Kalm-Lieu bring you in on this? Are you a
good
lawyer?"

Harriet grinned. "Does it matter? I'm the only one you've got. But yes, I think I'm a pretty good lawyer. And no, Kalm-Lieu didn't bring me in—though I think he was
relieved
that I stepped in." Her grin vanished, and she looked deadly serious. "When I spoke with Kalm-Lieu, he seemed—
scared
, is the only word I can think of. Though he tried to hide it, I'm sure he's glad to be off the case."

Scared?
Frustrated, Legroeder would have thought. Angry. But why scared? "Why are
you
doing this? If it scared Kalm-Lieu?"

Harriet steepled her fingers. "I've been following your case with great interest—along with everything else I can find that's related to the
Ciudad de los Angeles
. As I said—there's a
lot
going on here beyond procedural irregularities—but I'm just beginning to put together what it is. I'm hoping we can help each other find out, and get you exonerated."

"But
why?
Why are you helping
me
?"

"Because somehow there's a connection between what's happened to you and what happened to Bobby," she said softly. "And one way or another, I am going to find out what it is."

Impossible. Bobby's in Golen Space. He's gone,
Legroeder thought, shutting his eyes. He took a deep breath. "What chance is there of learning anything about your grandson? Realistically."

"Maybe no chance. Maybe it's hopeless. Maybe I'm just a crazy old lady, and I wouldn't blame you if you thought so. But I want to know if Bobby is alive or dead.
I want to know what happened
." For a moment, she seemed surprised by her own vehemence. Then she poured some tea from the insulated pot into her cup. "And I want to make sure everyone else knows, too. Would you like some more coffee?"

Legroeder's head was spinning. He felt as if a real sun were beating down on his head, here in this holodesert in the midst of the cafe; he could feel the heat like the blast of an oven. "Yes, sure," he muttered. "More coffee would be wonderful...."

Chapter 4

Comrade in Arms

The recording of the testimony was a bit muddy from imperfect decryption. Access to it had been restricted by the RiggerGuild office, and two years ago Harriet had paid a private investigator to snag an illicit copy off the datagrid. According to the PI, the copy he'd intercepted was being transmitted to a location known to be a datastop for an extremist political group called Centrist Strength. What Centrist Strength had to do with a RiggerGuild inquest on a five-year-old lost ship, the PI had been unable to say. Centrist Strength was new to Legroeder. According to Harriet, it was a group headquartered here on Faber Eridani, but active on a few other worlds as well, which was known for an almost fanatical advocacy of new human expansion into the galaxy. Their philosophy was laden with heavy overtones of what they called "Destiny Manifest"—a belief that the stars, all of them, were destined for human conquest and habitation. Though lip service was paid in their pronouncements to cooperation with other species, the overall tenor of their activities seemed to be one of a human supremacist movement.

Harriet remained silent as Legroeder watched the initial part of Jakus's testimony. It was a fairly straightforward account of the raider attack, with one critical omission: any mention of the sighting of the lost starship
Impris
. Legroeder stared, tight-lipped, waiting to see how his old shipmate would explain the
L.A
.'s entrapment by the pirate ship. The Jakus on the recording looked like a different person from the one Legroeder had served with on the
L.A
. For one thing, he seemed far more tentative and cautious, and—Legroeder thought—
old
. Or perhaps not so much old, as
worn
. His time in servitude with the pirates had taken a heavy toll. A datachip implant flickered on his left temple—a gift of the pirates, no doubt. Legroeder wondered how he'd been received here on Faber Eridani with that implant; there was a lot of prejudice about that sort of thing on many of the Centrist Worlds—or at least there had been seven years ago. Not for the first time, Legroeder uttered a prayer of gratitude that he had been spared that particular indignity.

Eventually someone on the inquest panel had asked Jakus why the
Ciudad de los Angeles
had slowed enough to make it vulnerable to attack in the first place.

"Watch Jakus's face here," Harriet murmured.

The haggard-faced man on the screen hesitated before answering. Jakus looked as though he were running two or three possible scenarios through his mind. Twice, he seemed about to speak, before biting back words. He scratched at the implant on his temple, cocking his head slightly. Finally he answered in a gravelly voice, "It was because of a bum image from our stern-rigger. He had some kind of crazy idea he'd seen a vessel in distress." Jakus seemed to be trying to laugh at the idea; but the laugh couldn't quite get out. "The rest of us and the skip—we saw right through that. It was just a clumsy deception thrown up by the pirates to confuse us."

"And were you confused?" asked an offscreen voice.

"Well,
yeah
—things got pretty damn hairy pretty fast." Jakus barked a laugh, almost a cough. "But still—"

"What?"

"Well, you know. If our stern-rigger hadn'ta fallen for it, we could've steered clear. The pirates didn't come after us 'til after we'd slowed."

"But if you and the captain saw through it, couldn't you do something?"

Jakus shook his head. He seemed to gain a measure of self-confidence, now that the lie was out. "You got to understand about rigging—it's a team thing. It only takes one person pulling the wrong way, or getting confused, to bring the whole thing down around you. And that's what happened—we got bad input from the stern, 'cause our guy there kept sayin' he saw something. And even though the
skip
said—well—" Jakus's voice faltered. "Well, he said to stay right on course, but we couldn't—couldn't do it—"

"Because of the stern-rigger?"

"Yeah."

"And his name was—?"

"Oh, uh—" Jakus hesitated, swallowing. "Groder, I think it was. Is that right?"

A different voice from the panel: "There was a Renwald Legroeder listed on the rigger crew. Is that who you mean?"

Jakus's voice shook a little. "That's it."

"Thank you—"

"Legroeder," Jakus repeated, his voice gaining strength. "It was Renwald Legroeder."

The recording ended.

Legroeder stared at the blank screen. "I'll be a God-damned son of a monkey."

Harriet turned off the monitor and settled into the wingbacked chair behind her office desk. The sunlight coming in through the window was turning golden orange with the approach of sunset. "What do you think?"

"I think," growled Legroeder, "that I'd like to have a talk with my friend Jakus."

"Well, I'm not sure
that
would be very productive." Harriet lowered her glasses to hang from the chain around her neck. "That was two years ago. The inquest is history now. But if we could
prove
that there was falsification—"

"Prove it? The sonofabitch lied through his teeth because he thought he'd never have to answer to me." Legroeder tried, with difficulty, to keep his anger under control. "You don't happen to know where he lives, do you?"

"I haven't really kept track—"

"You aren't going to bullshit me now. My lawyer?"

Harriet scowled. "All right. As your lawyer, I strongly recommend that you not attempt a personal confrontation. You're out on bail, if you haven't forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten. But something rotten's going on, and we aren't going to find out what by sitting here. So do you know where Jakus is, or not?"

Harriet stared at him for a moment. "Let me see what my PI's latest files say." She put her glasses back on, tapped on a small screen on her desktop and studied it before looking back up at Legroeder. "According to this, he lived for a short time in a RiggerGuild complex on the outskirts of the city; then he left the Guild and moved out into a small condominium. He hasn't flown since, though he's done some work for a maintenance outfit at the spaceport." She studied the screen again. "What would a rigger do for a maintenance company, I wonder."

Legroeder rubbed his chin, remembering many days on maintenance details at the raider outpost.

"Whatever it is, he spends a lot of time at it. According to this—and I must commend my PI for staying current—he's moved out of his condominium and is spending
all
of his time with that maintenance outfit."

"You mean he's sleeping at the spaceport?"

"Apparently so." Harriet closed the screen again. "The question is, what should
we
do?"

Legroeder rose, shaking, and not from the coffee. "I know what
I
have to do."

"That's not what I meant, Legroeder. Will you please let me do this
right
—and keep you out of jail? Let my PI make the contact."

Legroeder closed his eyes, as the memory of all that had happened to him welled up, bringing his rage with it. He struggled to push the rage back under. "I'm sure you're probably right. But this... is something I have to do myself."
Jakus Bark. My friend. Backstabbing bastard
. He forced a smile at Harriet. "I'll be good. I'm not going to start a fight with him or anything. But I am going to talk to him. I mean, we used to work together. That counts for something, right?"

"Legroeder, please—"

"And after this, I'll follow your advice. I promise."

The spaceport field was a sprawling place, bordered with countless hangars and repair shops and administration buildings, and few signposts for strangers. Legroeder had traveled in and out of this port before, but he still had trouble finding his way around; the place had changed in seven years. They'd taken his RiggerGuild ID away from him, but as it turned out, security was nonexistent on this part of the field.

Legroeder stood at the edge of the decayed plasphalt pavement of a parking lot and squinted across the complex into the setting sun, trying to figure out from Harriet's notes just where the maintenance hangar might be. He was at a remote corner of the field, and it looked more like a down-at-the-heels industrial park than a spaceport.

Harriet's words echoed in his mind.
What are you going to do if he won't talk to you?
She'd given him a good, long stare. If his own grandmother had still been alive, she couldn't have conveyed greater sternness.

He hadn't had an answer, and still didn't. But he knew one thing: pushing paper wouldn't get answers out of Jakus. He had to confront the man himself.

The line of hangars just across the way looked promising. He started across the crumbling tarmac, clenching and unclenching his fists. When he realized what he was doing, he pressed his open hands to his sides.

The shop he was looking for was the last one, marked by a dusty sign:
Cavanaugh and Farhoodi Rigger Systems
. The hangar door was shut, so he tried a small door to one side. It opened with a creak and banged shut behind him as he entered. Inside was a dingy outer office, with a scarred counter and one dirty chair; behind the counter was an inner office, with a light on. A voice—a woman's—called out: "Who's there, eh? We're closed!"

"Hello!" he called, and moved around the end of the counter to peer into the office.

A thick-waisted woman in a faded jumpsuit stood behind a desk, holding a dusting wand. "That door was supposed to be locked," she said, sounding annoyed. "They're closed here."

Legroeder showed his empty hands. "I'm sorry—I'm not here on business, exactly. I'm looking for someone named Jakus Bark. I heard he worked here."

The woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Yeah, I guess he does. What d'you want with him?"

The words came reluctantly. "We used to... rig together. I haven't seen him in years, and I, um, wanted to say hello. I'm... interested in getting into his line of work."

The woman squinted at him, obviously processing his words slowly. He couldn't tell if she recognized him from the news or not. Perhaps she wasn't someone who watched the news. "I'll check," she said. She touched a com switch on her collar, spoke subvocally for a moment, then nodded. "What's your name?"