The Complete Legacy Trilogy: Star Corps, Battlespace, Star Marines. Ian Douglas

      “Dr. Hanson,” he said in a raspy voice. “So good of you to come. May I present Gavin Norris … Clarence Rafferty … Lee Soong Yi … Mary Pritchard … and I believe you already know Conrad Robinson and Marine Colonel Thomas Jackson Ramsey.”

      She nodded to each in turn. Conrad Robinson was her department head at the American Xenoarcheological Institute, though she barely knew him. And Ramsey …

      “Colonel Ramsey,” she said. “Yes. We shared the packet hop back to Earth.” She noted with a small stab of irritation that Ramsey was wearing a dress Marine uniform, with no sign of the braces at neck or wrists indicating that he was wearing a walker.

      “Hello again, Dr. Hanson,” Ramsey said with a grin. “Gotten your Earth legs yet?”

      “More or less,” she replied brusquely, in no mood for casual talk. She looked at Buckner as she sank into her seat, grateful to be off her feet. “So. I understand you want me to go out-system. Why? Or perhaps I should say, ‘Why me?’”

      “Because you are one of our best xenoarcheologists, and an expert on the An or Ahannu or whatever they call themselves.”

      “An,” she replied in a clipped, offhand manner, “is what primitive humans in the Mesopotamian region called the species when they first arrived on Earth, some ten to twelve thousand years ago. Their name for themselves is Ahannu, which means, approximately, ‘the Holy People.’”

      “Er, yes. Exactly,” Buckner said.

      “You see, ladies and gentlemen,” Robinson said quickly, “why I said Dr. Hanson would be perfect for this mission.”

      “But you haven’t asked me if I want to go,” she said. “I am flattered, Mr. Buckner, but I am not prepared to sacrifice twenty years or more of my career … not when there is so much yet to do here and on Mars.”

      “Sacrifice? Who said anything about sacrifice? Upon your return, you will only be some five years older, not twenty … and thanks to cryohibertechnics, you’ll experience none of the actual voyage. And you will be able to study the Ahannu in person, on their homeworld.”

      “Not their homeworld,” she said, correcting him. Damn the netnews media. With sloppy reporting and sheer carelessness, they’d perpetuated the popular misconception that Ishtar was the world where the An had originally evolved. “The world we call Ishtar was an An colony world, like Earth. The Hunters of the Dawn appear to have overlooked Ishtar when they—”

      “Yes, yes, as you say. In any case, the chance to meet the Ahannu face-to-face would have to be the chance of a lifetime for a dedicated research scientist such as yourself.”

      “A dedicated research scientist such as myself,” she said, “depends on the timely publishing of papers to stay current and to stay known in a highly competitive field. I will not waste twenty years sleeping while my colleagues are continuing to publish in my absence!”

      “Not even for, say … fifty million newdollars, plus the chance at royalties from discoveries this corporation may make on Ishtar?”

      She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut again. Had she heard right? “Fifty … million?”

      “I would think, Doctor, that that much money might go a long way toward paying you back for any professional … inconvenience. And upon your return, you will, of course, be the expert on the Ahannu. I expect we could promise you a position with PanTerra Dynamics, in fact.”

      “What happened to Nichole Moore?”

      “Eh?”

      “Nichole Moore is the xenoculturalist assigned to the Terran Legation on Ishtar,” she said, “working under a government grant for the Smithsonian Institute. She’s been in the New Sumer compound for five years now. She would be the leading expert on the Ahannu at the moment, unless …”

      “We have … lost touch with Dr. Moore,” Buckner told her. “We are assembling an expedition to go to Ishtar, rescue any survivors, and reestablish a Terran presence in the Llalande system. Since it will be ten years before the relief mission can arrive, we must assume that Dr. Moore and the rest of Emissary’s people are all dead or will be dead by the time you arrive.”

      She nodded slowly. “I see.” She’d suspected as much, of course, both from what she’d picked up at the Cydonian complex and from her conversations with the Marine women on board the Osiris. Geremelet’s Destiny Faction had won considerable power among the Ahannu, and there’d been growing danger of a coup or at least of a civil war on Ishtar, one that would threaten the tiny human contingent stationed at New Sumer. “They killed Dr. Moore, and now you’re sending me?”

      “You’ll have considerably more firepower behind you than Dr. Moore did,” Buckner said. “A full Marine Expeditionary Unit, in fact. One of its primary tasks will be to protect you.”

      “No,” she said. “Find another victim.”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      She looked at her boss. “Mr. Robinson, the institute is largely funded by the federal government, but we are not soldiers to be ordered about! They can’t just pack me off to another goddamn star for twenty years!”

      “Actually, Dr. Hanson,” Robinson said, “I put your name in the running. You will be ideal for this mission. And you must admit that the financial remuneration package is, well, quite generous.”

      “I don’t care about that! You can’t transfer me eight light-years! What about my work here?”

      “Carter and Jorgenson will be more than able to fill in for you at Cydonia, Dr. Hanson.”

      “Carter and Jorgenson! Carter is a second-rate hack who can’t see beyond his fringie religious beliefs! And Jorgenson is so determined to try and prove that some mythical ancient human culture was the Hunters of the Dawn that—” She stopped, eyes widening. So that was it. Jorgenson was her chief rival within the institute. She’d crossed academic swords with the man more than once, and was convinced that he owed his current power and prestige more to the people he knew in government than to any real ability in his field. He’d also failed more than once to get her into his bed, and had taken to twisting her words whenever he had the opportunity, as if in petty revenge. Hell, he’d delivered one paper that had made her look like the fringie nutcase, by misrepresenting her contention that the An had introduced the concept of religion to the early native population of Earth.

      He’d been silent ever since she threatened to expose him as a fraud. Was this his way of getting even?

      “If I were you, Doctor,” Robinson went on, “I would give some thought to my future with the institute and where else you might be able to apply your considerable talent and experience.”

      She blinked. “Is that a threat?”

      “There are no threats here, Dr. Hanson,” Buckner said gently. “Think of it as … an incentive.”

      “Is that what you call it?”

      “Fifty million newdollars?” Buckner chuckled. “Compounding interest at ten percent over ten years? Or … let’s make it seventy-five million. And a contract with PanTerra Dynamics naming you research director of your own exostudies department upon your return to Earth. You will be extraordinarily rich … and able to apply your talents toward any area of research you might desire. Who knows? Working with the Ahannu directly … you might open up whole new, undreamed of areas of study. …”

      Traci felt light-headed, almost dizzy. This was everything she could ever have dreamed of. Freedom of research, and the money to let her pursue that research wherever it took her. No longer dependent on the institute, or anyone else. It seemed almost too good to be true. …

      Which in her book meant that it was too good to be true.

      “Wait a minute,” she said. “Wait just a damned minute. How can you afford