Edward M. Lerner (20 page)

“I said, ‘And you?’” Eva was frowning at him.

“Sorry. Synapse misfire.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me.”

Sigh. “Nothing much.” Antimatter transfers did not involve him. The resupply effort was largely complete. “Maybe I’ll look into the diminished sulfur level on
Victorious
.”

“The K’vithians proved they had antimatter before we seriously discussed refueling. They demoed the interstellar drive we’re getting in exchange. Art, you did what you set out to do. Why not relax for a bit? Scale back to, I don’t know, six days a week?”

“Do you trust Chung to…?”

She gently slapped his hand. “You’re a prime example why that referendum is happening on Titan. Too many men with trust issues.”

Before he could decide whether to comment on
that
, she had excused herself and headed off to work.

K’vithians and crew-kindred faced each other in two shallow arcs. A long scroll lay open on the deck between them. Two groups of peers consulting, K’choi Gwu ka thought. We will be equally dead if we overlook anything.

A hologram floated above a corner of the printout. As air currents gently vibrated a slightly curled edge, the ephemeral orb morphed from planet to planet. Earth, Jupiter, and Saturn she knew immediately; the names of the other worlds eluded her. The same United Planets logo glimmered from the two shiny cylinders that stood behind the K’vithians.

They contained human-supplied antimatter.

Mashkith’s eyes were heavy upon her, impatient. Gwu’s experts continued speaking inconclusively among themselves, their words muffled by breathing masks. “Biocomputers are unfamiliar to us, Foremost.” You kept us ignorant lest we meddle with the new networks grafted throughout the ship. “We must be certain the control approach is entirely compatible with the shipboard systems.”

“Nature of concern?”

One of the crew-kindred experts spoke up. “The merest instant of instability during the transfer would be catastrophic.”

“Concern for possible transient control states within the interface?” Keffah asked. “Exhaustive review by my staff. Second review by me. No problems.”

Exhaustive? Hardly. The crew-kindred were unfamiliar with biocomps, and the K’vithians had, until recently, disdained to study photonics.
Advanced
species used biocomp.

But photonics controlled the main antimatter-containment chamber which filled half the room. Photonics controlled the interstellar drive powered by matter/antimatter annihilation.
Reassuring myself with thoughts of the Unity’s technical superiority.
Sadly, Gwu once more acknowledged her own pride.
I’m not so different from them
. “The Foremost requested our opinion. I thought it best to evaluate the design independently.”

The answering growl ended abruptly at a glance from Mashkith, but not before that rumble deep in Keffah’s throat rebutted all Gwu’s fanciful notions of a meeting between equals.

“Any specific technical reason for delay?” Mashkith asked. “Any explicit unambiguous risk? Your experts’ response within three watches, ka.”

Which meant antimatter fueling was planned to commence soon after. Reluctantly, Gwu conceded the shrewdness of a deadline. Humans had designed the transfer interface, and
they
knew photonics, biocomps, and antimatter containment. It was prudent to have given the crew-kindred an opportunity to spot anything humans and K’vithians might have overlooked. It was astute to disbelieve any purported problems not accompanied by specifics.

Nothing Gwu had so far heard from her experts rose above musing aloud. Refueling
was
going to happen. Either that, or a very big explosion that would end all their worries. “I understand, Foremost. You will have our response by then.” She rolled up the scroll. “For reference as we complete our review.”

Returning under escort to their quarters, Gwu decided: We must send our message immediately. Before three watches have passed. Before the remotest chance of an interface mismatch and a cataclysmic explosion, we must send word to the Unity. They must be told the mission was hijacked; it did not fail.

The crew-kindred’s only advantage was the secret reactivation of T’bck Ra. They could spring that surprise only once. Should they use their one chance to radio the Double Suns or the Unity’s nearby agent?

Hope dies hard, she realized. Gwu could not imagine how help could arise, but at least the theoretical possibility existed that the Unity’s agent on Earth could accomplish something before
Harmony
vanished once more into interstellar space. Their attempt to communicate would be directed at the main InterstellarNet receiver on Earth—and through it, to T’bck Fwa.

What course of action the AI could possibly undertake beyond relaying their message was beyond her imagining.

Martian science classes boasted that Olympus Mons was the largest volcano in the solar system. It towered to three times the height of Mount Everest. Its footprint was the size of the Hawaiian Islands.

Long dormant, it was far from the most impressive volcano.

Art’s eyes were glued to the apocalyptic sight before him. Vast pools of hot, black lava mottled Io’s ocher surface. Geysers and volcanoes spewed sulfurous lava far into space. Rings of fresh red and yellow sulfur encircled calderas a hundred kilometers across. The scene was all the more fearsome for its violent transience: Cavernous faults and tall mountains formed and vanished here in a geological eye blink, as the surface flexed endlessly in the tidal tug of war between mighty Jupiter to one side, and nearby Europa and Ganymede to the other.

As the hellish world swelled in the main screen, Art just barely found his tongue. “Wow.”

“Glad you came, Art?” Rachel Shapiro, the scoopship’s pilot, wore a condescending smile that said: tourist.

“Absolutely!” And not just because I was getting cabin fever on Callisto. “What a rush!”

“Me, too.” Despite the endorsement, Helmut seemed quite blasé, and more relaxed than Art had seen him in their brief acquaintance. That was the thing about new friends—you did not entirely get them at first. The spacer had doubtlessly seen more than Art, maybe even Io before. In fact, Helmut was so bored-seeming Art didn’t understand why he had come along.

A different friend’s advice had gotten Art here. Clearly he did not yet understand her. After he had made arrangements for two to tag along on a scoop run, Eva politely declined the second seat. Okay, he
did
understand her. Her work was peaking even while his was in a lull. Didn’t she need a break, too? He couldn’t imagine her taking time off once the working interstellar drive was in her hands.

Maybe thrill rides weren’t Eva’s idea of a first date. Maybe he was reading her signals wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Too bad, either way. She was missing a hell of a show.

Io was only coincidentally a scenic stopover. Their course bent around the tortured moon in a tight hyperbolic turn. The gravity boost flung them all the faster at Jupiter.

The king of planets grew and grew. It became a sky-spanning expanse of wind-driven cloud bands and swirling storms, each feature many times Earth-sized.

“Buckle your seatbelts, guys. We’re going in.”

Boredom had once obsessed Pashwah-qith. No more: Failure had taken boredom’s place. Failure, and fear of its consequences.

Too late, she recognized the weakness in her plan. The InterstellarNet transactions that comprised her secondhand experience dealt almost exclusively with knowledge transfer: inventions, processes, scientific theories. Her customers were large corporations. She dealt with lawyers, financial engineers, and huge banks. Her understanding of illicit dealings was theoretical—and, she was now discovering, seriously inadequate.

Black markets were called black for a reason: Their workings were opaque. Despite her long-sought reconnection to the infosphere, Pashwah-qith struggled to track everything she had initiated.

No one ran ads on the infosphere for unregistered currency transactions. Prospective buyers had to be sought out, cultivated, and made comfortable. Contacts happened indirectly, through layer upon layer of intermediaries—who had to be sought out, cultivated, and made comfortable. For themselves, everyone strove for anonymity and deniability. From others, everyone sought the certainties and guarantees they were themselves reticent to offer.

Exchanging the Centaur currency was taking far more time than Pashwah-qith had ever imagined.

And some of the shadowy players turned out to be thieves.

Her promise to the Foremost had been simple: overhead not to exceed one-fourth. From that perspective, the slow start-up of the money laundering proved fortunate. She had lost less to swindles and swindlers while learning than had she quickly put more funds in play. Now that she was savvier, she needed—somehow—to speed up the remaining conversion.

Arblen Ems Firh Mashkith was not known for his patience.

Talking with Snakes had become almost routine. That was Corinne’s take, anyway; Helmut guessed she should know. This was, what? Mashkith’s fourteenth major interview. His second with Corinne.

The hook for today’s session was the recently concluded negotiation. The grand swap. Unseen behind the camera and his mirrored visor, Helmut thought it an interesting topic indeed, if not for the reasons Corinne did.

Outing of the antimatter program was a nightmare for the UP military. The entire solar system now knew of the unimaginably powerful and dangerous stockpile there. Where secrecy, the prison cover story, and a few frigates once sufficed to provide security, today it took a fleet to guard the antimatter.
Victorious
had been invited to closely orbit Himalia, inside the security perimeter, the better to expedite fuel transfers.

The Foremost, with untold crew and AIs netted into his head, had
also
acclimated to conversing with aliens. The smooth segues as he changed topics were impressive. Mashkith was quick to talk of the potential for trade and cultural exchange, about the enriching experiences of small shore parties.

Corinne was, as always, hard to distract. “I’m sure everyone who watches will be pleased with the success of those brief visits. You will recall, however, that we were discussing implementation of the new agreement.”

“Implementation involves some highly technical matters, Corinne. These are well in hand, and I think best left for consultation between our technical experts. What I find interesting, Corinne, is what diverse items arise in those consultations. Chess, as one example. The crew are quite taken with the game of chess.”

“A fascinating topic for another conversation, Foremost. If we could get back to the planning for refueling trials….”

Helmut did not bother fighting the oncoming yawn. He could edit out any wobble the camera failed to remove on its own. The wondrous thing was that he had relaxed enough to yawn. Maybe Rothman decided he had been mistaken. Maybe the man from his past had shipped out while Helmut had been laying low by taking the scoopship joyride. Maybe he had just needed a bit of down time. In the big picture it didn’t—

Klaxon blaring and then a shout, both in his mind’s ear. “Helmut! You getting this?”

He speed-scanned the past minute from the camera’s memory. Mashkith had stopped mid digression. Mid-sentence. “Sure am, boss.” As Helmut zoomed in on the Snake’s face, frozen in an infosphere trance, Mashkith’s eyes snapped back to the here and now.

“Where was I? My excursion to Ulan Bator?” Long pause. “As I think about it, that anecdote is not truly relevant.” Another pause. “I realize I’ve talked on and on about sights that, while new to me, must be familiar to your viewers. Perhaps this is a good time to conclude our chat. I will have you escorted to the airlock.”

Almost immediately, the cabin door swung open to admit Rashk Lothwer. A file of guards stood behind him.

Helmut didn’t need a net exchange with Corinne to know they had been dismissed and that something unexpected had happened. And that she also could not guess what the emergency might be.

Corridor sensors revealed a guard detachment approaching Mashkith’s cabin. They marched briskly for Hunters, not that the prisoner had any difficulty keeping up. His summons had been curt and snarled—he meant for her to be rattled by the guards’ tension. Still, a glimpse of the ka coughing and fumbling with her breather mask made Mashkith truly angry at the soldiers. Denying her a few seconds to adjust her equipment had been needlessly cruel.

There was a timorous tapping on the hatch. “Authorization to enter.” The escorts wasted no time in leaving him alone with K’choi Gwu ka.

“Foremost.” She was hoarse from fumes leaking under her mask.

Talons already half-extended from his hands and feet emerged further. He curled back his lips, baring teeth. “Your mockery of respect for me.”

She did not flinch. “I do not understand.”

“A lie! Unauthorized message from
Victorious
to Earth. Unauthorized frequency.”

She stretched to her full height. “If you refer to an InterstellarNet message, it was authorized by the ka of this mission.”

“Your admission of defiance and disrespect!”

“It was a matter of duty to the Unity. Whatever the consequences.”

“Consequences certain—despite the failure of your attempt.” At Mashkith’s thought, the holo display flipped from Jupiter to multicolored schematics. Green threads brightened: the ship’s original systems. She would surely recognize those. Red icons sparkled: symbols for biocomp nodes. Those should be familiar from recently reviewing the humans’ antimatter transfer design. The image zoomed in on primary communications.

“Security overlay. Protection against rogue messaging, its implementation immediately after our takeover.” With an arm stretched into the hologram, he indicated a knot of red beside the main external antenna. At his thought, the tangle flared blindingly crimson. Faster than the red light ebbed to normal levels, the antenna became a faint shadow. Inert. “Power cutoff upon detection of your unauthorized signal. Your mutiny a failure.”