“The colonel appointed Lieutenant Oleander to a provisional spot in the Directorate.” She realized Joyce had missed quite a bit while he was laid up.
“She’s new to Intelligence.”
“Yeah, but that might be why she’s allowed to stroll off the ship, like the operations personnel. You got to work with what you’ve got, Sergeant.”
After a bit of grumbling and symbolic back-slapping, they cut the call.
Ariane stayed in her quarters on
Aether’s Touch
and jotted down some notes. She still had her original mission, the possibly defecting Maria. Joyce had given her the keys to Maria’s demands, using the fake house-buying story. She tapped her console thoughtfully.
It sounds like Maria wants to have children
. The background file said Maria was bisexual, but that didn’t affect the human urge to procreate and raise children. What did stand in Maria’s way was the Terran League itself, which practiced strict eugenic controls. Accidental pregnancies were prevented by state-applied birth control implants that lasted years, with the additional threat of withholding citizenship from
unapproved
progeny. Citizenship was the only way to have health care, but it was that same health care system with which Maria had run afoul: She wasn’t allowed to have children due to Tantor’s Sun disease, which she’d contracted in a battle near Tantor. This disease incurred a measurable genetic mutation that would be found in all of her eggs.
On Autonomist worlds, the mutation was considered benign and could be removed from the egg, if parents wished, before fertilization. Besides, on any Autonomist world, Maria would be able to have her birth control implant removed and she could breed—like a bunny, if she wanted.
Ariane shut down her slate. This sleep shift she was staying in her quarters.
Aether’s Touch
was home by now, and she sighed with pleasure as she got into bed.
As she drifted off to sleep, she considered Maria’s hope for becoming an Autonomist citizen. Unfortunately, it didn’t mesh with the Directorate’s wish that Maria remain as an informant in place. Maria’s double misfortune was that she’d kidnapped Ariane for torture and possible execution, so Ariane was the last person who’d sympathize with her situation.
The corridors were crowded on the recreation level of the
Pilgrimage
, so Oleander could be inconspicuous as she followed the Terran lieutenant. Luckily, she looked back only once, and Oleander drifted into another group of Autonomists, obvious by their bright clothes. This group of freighter crew members were clustered near the entrance of a rec room. They held drink packs and offered one to Oleander, but she shook her head with a smile.
The Terran lieutenant arrived at her destination, ducking into a package drop and storage center. A moment later, Oleander entered behind her.
Following Autonomist privacy laws, the
Pilgrimage
had opted to have no surveillance inside the center, other than at the doors. To Oleander’s left, it looked like a miniature locker room, with lockers large enough to hang clothes or large packages. The other side of the center undulated with curved bays of smaller locked boxes. Half the bays were used by
Pilgrimage
crew members for physical post, such as parcels. The other bays held temporary storage and drop-boxes rented on a one-time basis or for as long as several years.
There were thirty people, maybe more, in the storage center. The Terran lieutenant stood in the first bay and, after noting the box location, Oleander walked past that bay into the next one. She roved along the wall, as if trying to find a box number and moved around the edge of the bay to peek at the lieutenant, who reached into a small box and pocketed something. Oleander turned back to peruse the storage wall as the Terran lieutenant left the center.
Oleander went to look at the box opened by the lieutenant. Whatever the Terran had picked up, it was thin enough to put into her stretchy jumpsuit pocket and yet not bulge. Any data storage could fit that requirement, being small, often carried subcutaneously—although the Terrans were only beginning to use implants.
The box could be opened by thumbprint, voiceprint, or by entering a code, since it could be rented for one-time use. She made note of the box number, but wondered what she could do with it. Even if she could prove Myron left something for the Terran lieutenant, she’d never convince the
Pilgrimage
crew to release records on the storage box.
She walked out of the drop and storage center, and turned into the shop promenade the
Pilgrimage
had established for the couple of years it would operate inside G- 145. They had also upgraded this area with nodes and ComNet access. Walking slowly by the storefronts, she wondered if her suspicions were warranted and if so, whom she could burden with them. Her first thought was Floros, who was a genius with data systems, but she hadn’t seen the brusque captain since the ship audit began.
Her ear bug beeped with a call. It was probably Matt; she pushed the switch behind her jaw to activate her implanted mike. “Lieutenant Oleander here.”
“This is Master Sergeant Joyce, ma’am. I was wondering if you’d have time to drop by the infirmary.”
She smiled at the convenience; her answer had actually called her. “Certainly, Sergeant. You’re just the person I need to see.”
Ariane was indulging in her wake-up cup of Hellas-grown Kaffi, savoring the aroma, when Matt’s excited voice came over the internal comm.
“Hey, you got to see this!”
Her quick glance at system vitals, displayed above the galley’s countertop, convinced her there was no emergency with ship. Combined with the fact that Matt sounded half his age, she continued to calmly sip her hot drink as she tapped a command on the bulkhead beside the system display.
“Ari?” Matt was in the protected array compartment, according to the ship’s systems. “Look at this.”
“What?” Her question was answered when she pulled up the displays Matt was browsing. “Has the
Pytheas
arrived already?”
“It docked at the
Pilgrimage
about four hours ago. It’ll be here in about twenty hours, depending upon the crew rest they take. What a beauty—and is it equipped! It carries one of the largest ship-based telescopes available, as well as six specialized antennas.”
A view port opened for face-to-face; she hadn’t seen Matt bubbling with this much enthusiasm for a long time. Taking a sip of Kaffi to hide her smile, she stopped him with a dry comment. “Watch out.”
“Why?”
“Your antenna envy is showing.”
He chuckled. “I admit that I’m gushing like a kid with his first crush, but this ship is amazing!”
“It’s a third-wave exploration vessel, so its price tag should be—”
“Yeah, it’s three orders of magnitude over the value of
Aether’s Touch
. It requires three crew members to run it in real-space, not counting the scientific mission crew.” He whistled as he posted more schematics.
“I thought your finance
consultant
Carmen said nobody’s making loans for G-145 research. How did Leukos Industries finance this, or insure that crew?”
“I didn’t ask too many questions.” Matt shrugged his shoulders. “Leukos himself is underwriting the life, medical, and disability insurance for the crew. He might be financing everything. Maybe it’s because of you—but I don’t care.”
“Maybe you should care. Leukos isn’t known for effusive acts of charity. He’s been described as
ruthless
in his business dealings.” She took another sip and watched Matt display more “beauty shots” of the
Pytheas
. It did look amazing and she hoped Brandon, aka Leukos, wasn’t going to use it as leverage against her. She wouldn’t be beholden to him and, in an effort to counteract Matt’s giddiness, she added, “Too bad they’re going to tear its referential engine out in the next couple of months.”
“Could happen
much
faster than that. Come on, we’ve got briefings in less than an hour, followed by another scintillating meeting with Contractor Director.” Matt winked and made shooing motions.
She cut the internal comm. Within twenty minutes, she and Matt were locking up the ship and walking quietly, companionably, down the halls of the Beta Priamos Station. She didn’t like breaking up this comfortable moment, but she had to broach this subject before they were around any Minoans.
“Isn’t this going a bit fast?” she started hesitantly. “Aren’t you skeptical about the Minoans and their sudden insight into the Builders? They stayed quiet during our entry into G- 145, and now they’re helping us retrofit exploration ships, for Gaia’s sake.”
“Of course I’m suspicious.” Matt’s tone was casual as he strolled at an easy pace for her shorter legs. “Although I’ll point out that they never entered this system,
to our knowledge
, until Hellas Nautikos asked for an advisor.”
She noted the emphasis. “They also showed up in a vessel with some sort of cloaking. I noticed none of you who witnessed that, from you and David Ray to the crew of the
Bright Crescent
, have asked the Minoans to explain that capability.”
“Because I don’t want to remind them of what I know. Look at everything they’ve helped us with in the past twenty days, from squashing Abram to translating the Builders’ language—so I’m just hanging on for the ride.” Matt stopped and faced her, lowering his voice. “But I am wary of their agenda.”
She nodded, relieved. However, once they’d entered Dr. Lowry’s major laboratory, the sense of being drowned and tumbled about by a torrent of technological flux returned. “Our wayward bot is still transmitting?”
The two remaining members of the Artifact Analysis Team, Dr. Lowry and Dr. Novak, nodded.
Novak, a middle-aged man with a bit of excess weight around his waist, made a gesture toward the data on the wall, as a statement of the obvious. “We think it’s in communication with the alien technology.”
Matt had to be convinced. “How could that be possible, when I pulled its memory module?”
“That only held the temporary data we needed. The bot still had its processors,” Ariane pointed out.
“We sent out other bots, keeping them suitably distant from the buoy. We captured data from five thousand kilometers, then moved closer. So far, we’ve been as close as two kilometers, without suffering hijacking attempts like—ah, your bot suffered.” Novak brought up photos and video, showing the alien artifact that they now knew was an N-space buoy.
“It looks different,” Ariane said.
Matt frowned, then saw the change as the video moved closer. “It didn’t have those tails before. What are those?”
The fuzzy cylinder in the picture resolved into the familiar spindle shape of the alien buoy. What they hadn’t expected were the three ribbonlike gossamer tails that extended from the “bottom,” the narrow end. Before the tails, the spindle measured about forty meters long. Now they added another twenty, at least.
“Those appeared about a month ago,” Dr. Lowry said. “They unfurled on their own and since we’re nervous about letting a bot touch any buoy surfaces, we’re unsure of the material.”
“We think they’re solar collectors. It deployed them once your bot gave it enough energy.” Dr. Novak tapped the lab bench to bring up another picture.
“That’s impossible. The bot’s collectors are too small to charge—” Matt’s jaw dropped as he watched Novak zoom in on the small bot, sitting on the sunward side of the rounded “top” of the alien buoy. “Is that part of my
suit
?”
Novak enlarged a picture of a jury-rigged connection between previously unnoticed ports in the buoy and the bot’s external charging cable. There, in the middle of the snarl, was part of the control harness for an EVA suit.
“I think I’ve been mugged,” muttered Matt.
Ariane put her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. After their bot had started to misbehave, Matt had tried to retrieve it by exiting the ship, going untethered, and climbing around the artifact. The bot had resisted capture and he discovered that it had appendages sharp enough to damage an EVA suit. Moving about nimbly, it had sliced off wiring harnesses and punctured his suit. The suit sealant expanded so that Matt didn’t have enough flexibility to move. Eventually, when his comm was cut, he was in trouble.
“We think it’s been trickle-charging the systems on the buoy,” Novak said.
“Hijacking—doing that—could only be considered—” Matt sputtered. “You’re saying
something
had the intelligence to intercept our commands and hijack our bot, then figure out how to use the bot to power itself. That’s super sophisticated.”
“We realize that, Mr. Journey. But what other assumptions could we make, when looking at that?” Dr. Novak’s voice was quiet as he gestured toward the picture of spliced wires wrapped with, of all things, shredded strips from Matt’s EVA suit.
“What about DiastimBot Instrumentation? That bot’s still under warranty, and I submitted a problem report to them.” Matt’s face was beginning to flush.
“Ah, we spoke with their engineers.” Novak watched Matt’s color with trepidation. “They sent us schematics and procedural code, with the primitive commands and rules. Of course, we had to sign nondisclosure agreements.”
“So they helped?”
“As much as they could, Mr. Journey. The engineers told us the bot is custom-made—”
“And expensive. Don’t forget that,” Matt snapped. “I need it back.”
Ariane put a light restraining hand on Matt’s upper arm, to remind him that Novak wasn’t responsible for the bot’s behavior. Matt glanced sideways at her and his color began to fade. She gave his arm an encouraging squeeze before letting go, which reminded her how much muscle he had on his arms. Her hand fell to her side reluctantly—she wasn’t the touchy-feely type, really, but she didn’t want to remove her hand. Novak pulled her back into the conversation as he raised his voice.