a higher rank, even though no longer on active duty—with those same rights. Carter probably felt threatened, in some way, no longer the special one. And so a whisper about Ida’s award being fraudulent had started, with DeJohn just happening to be the loudest.
But it seemed it was more than a whisper campaign. The more Ida thought about his late-night call to Fleet HQ, the more surreal it felt, like it really had been a dream. Maybe he’d given the Flyeye the wrong date, and the Op had looked up the wrong records. Or the Flyeye was working on too much caffeine and had made the mistake herself. Perhaps a computer glitch had caused the wrong data to be displayed; someone had screwed up the entry accidentally or—worse—deliberately.
He needed to do more digging, get it sorted out.
Not that he needed to prove himself to Carter and DeJohn. But … but it bugged him. Being sent out to the Shadow system was the most obscure retirement duty he’d ever heard of. If he didn’t know better, he would have said that someone at Fleet Command had it in for him.
Izanami was in the surgical unit. She jumped when Ida called her name.
“This a new hobby, sneaking around the station?” She glanced down. Ida followed her gaze, realizing he was still in his socks. He sighed. Bootless, in grubby shorts and T-shirt, he must look crazy. But the feeling of self-consciousness passed as he began to describe the conversation with the Flyeye at Fleet Command. As he explained, Izanami’s expression changed from a puzzled smile to a frown, her forehead creasing deeply.
“How is that possible? A mistake with Fleet records?”
Ida scratched his unshaven cheek. “It’s possible, but even if it was a mistake, it seems to match with what DeJohn and the others think. None of them have ever heard of Tau Retore. It was six months ago, but this wreck isn’t that far around the edge of Fleetspace. There’s no way the news could have passed by.”
Izanami dropped into her chair silently, tapping a pen against her teeth.
“Well,” she began with some hesitation, “the lightspeed link hasn’t been that reliable.”
Ida curled his lip. “Interference from the star? Yeah, I had that myself. But bad enough to cut the station off so they missed the reports? Were you guys cut off?”
Izanami just shrugged. Ida thought maybe she hadn’t been on the station then.
“But … you believe me, right?” he asked.
Izanami’s pen stopped and she looked at him, her eyes narrowing. “Of course.”
“I think you’re the only one who does.”
Izanami sank deeper into her chair. “What are you going to do? Try Fleet records again? If you asked the marshal—”
Ida shook his head. “It runs higher than him—it has to. If the commandant was still here I could ask him—maybe that’s why he left before I arrived. No, I need to talk to Stockley, Stevens. The other commanders of the First Arrowhead. See if they’ve landed in the same mess.” Ida frowned and looked at the floor. “How, though? The lightspeed link to Fleet Command is just going to lead me around the same circle.”
Izanami smiled and stood. She reached out and laid a hand on Ida’s shoulder. Her touch was cold and so light, he could hardly feel it through his thin T-shirt. “Well, you have your own link now. There’s nothing to stop you.”
Ida looked at Izanami. “The radio set?” He felt the smile grow on his face. “That might work. If I can find out their current postings, I could try getting in touch directly, bypassing Fleet Command.”
“You’ll need to use Fleet Command to get their posting first, though?”
“Yeah,” Ida said. He frowned again. “Maybe. I’m not sure I have clearance anymore. Maybe I can pull a favor or two.…”
Izanami withdrew her hand. “You’ll get to the bottom of this. I know you will.”
Ida smiled and nodded his thanks and headed back to his cabin. The station was cold again, and he picked up his pace, rubbing his upper