Lord Banshee- Fairy Dust

by Russell O Redman

  God, I loved being in space. No one on Earth would have done that for us, but up here it was just one of the social graces. And God, I hated the Martians who had taken that away from me for so long.

  That afternoon, Doctor Marin came, unblocked the nerves to our arms, and adjusted our meds. Our legs were still completely blocked, so we could not move around much, nor even bend at the waist. My face hurt, especially around my cheeks and eyebrows. Now that they were unblocked, my arms hurt a lot. The doc explained that they had detected some bone marrow irregularities and had taken the opportunity to cleanse the marrow and strengthen the bones with metallic inserts. For Maryanne, they had lengthened and strengthened her legs and arms and changed the shape of her face to look more Polynesian. These changes would help us to walk past the hallway monitors without automatically being recognized by our former identities. Marin upped the pain killers, and gave us some topical creams that we would be able to use when the swelling in our arms subsided later in the afternoon. We were under strict orders not to salute, not to exercise until approved, not even to type messages to our teams. She gave us a new exercise regime to strengthen our modified limbs and tune our sense of balance. Then she and the orderly gave us both delicate sponge baths and tidied our hair.

  We were issued clothes again. Now that our arms were free, we could help dress ourselves with only a bit of wincing. The new clothes came with a set of insignia appropriate for our new covers, but with modified tags that would allow us to move freely through most checkpoints in the earth stations. Following our normal preferences, my clothes were a little on the tight side, Maryanne's a little loose. We would be able to choose colours later, but today we needed to be as formal as the medical facility allowed; dress whites with a bit of a polish to the fabric and big, colourful insignia on our left breast and shoulders. We could have been officers on the bridge of a battleship, or vice administrators on the station. I felt very conspicuous, having spent most of my life since joining the intelligence services under deep cover in dangerous places. Waxing a bit philosophical, I thought this might be deep cover, if the society we were about to infiltrate included ministers in the Terrestrial Council. It still felt wrong.

  2357-03-02 08:00

  Political Analyst

  The next morning, General Molongo came around with the first member of our team, probably the only one with clearance to enter MI R&R. We prepped for the meeting as well as we could, reviewing the mass of material that we had received.

  General Molongo introduced us to Political Officer Chou Sergei from Extraterrestrial Affairs, who on this team would be Agent Chou. He, too, was dressed formally in the traditions of his service, with an electric blue vest, a golden sash, and scarlet pants, all in materials that must have been uncomfortably warm in the station. His left breast sparkled with gold and platinum insignia, few of which I recognized. He gave a formal bow to me first as the head of the new team and then to Maryanne as a fellow team member. I nodded in response and apologized for being unable to bow properly in the medical restraints. He laughed and replied, “Please forgive me for being overdressed. My own preferences would be like yours, but my cover makes me a political liaison officer to the regional governments. They expect all the spangle, and hide their treacheries behind fancy clothes. I do not trust any of them even as much as I trust Martians. But, Mao be obeyed, you both look terrible. What happened?”

  Molongo laughed, “The story is that they were injured on the Laika. Don't worry, Agent Chou is an analyst for ExA specializing in Martian factions. This is surprisingly close to what you have been doing in pursuit of the gangs. Also, his security clearance on these issues is better than mine. He knows even more about you than MI does.”

  That interchange made me pause. “Mao be obeyed” was a mild oath for anyone from east Asia that usually meant something like “the high cost of obedience to orders”, but the legendary Han leader's reputation gave it layers of meaning that varied by region and social context. That other phrase, “more about you than MI does”, spoken with just that intonation, was a code phrase within the service. It meant Chou had access to all our most secret documents and knew everything that MI had on file about me, plus whatever he knew from other sources. Coming from Extraterrestrial Affairs with a specialty in Martian factions, that was probably quite a lot. He might know more about what I had done and why than I knew myself, except for the things I had never told anyone. Or maybe not, since a lot of my reports had been suppressed or censored by the Governor’s Office. In any case, I could speak relatively freely with him about my service on Mars during the Incursion. Maryanne would probably never receive that level of clearance.

  Chou continued, “The accident was real, so the cover is completely plausible for everyone not on the Laika. I am glad I came up two weeks ago with the other ministerial staff. Do you know what really happened yet?”

  Molongo replied, “No, but it was not an accident. Agent Duncan pointed out that the explosive release of the charge in the tug's clamp could not have pushed a vessel as big as the Laika off course, and the damage reports show evidence of a much larger explosive on the broken docking clamp. Fortunately, the Laika was a new model with extra armour to protect the passengers. Otherwise everyone’s injuries would have been far worse. As Agent Duncan has also noted, there are probably traitors at work within this station and probably all the others as well. Agents Bruce and Maryanne, we intend to move the meeting to the briefing rooms on the TDF Mao, which should be more secure. I expect we will transfer you there as soon as you have recovered.”

  Moving to the Mao – Chou might have known about the move, if not the reason, and his oath took on a different shade than I had heard originally. Also, if the clamp had carried a larger bomb, then the attack on the Laika was completely different from the spectacular but ultimately harmless circus of the Fairy Dust. I mused out loud, “With two such different kinds of attack, who else knew the passenger list for that particular shuttle? Could we have trouble with one of the regional governments, or are we facing two different factions from Mars? During my Martian service, it was quite typical to have multiple factions competing to fight us.”

  I wanted to ask Chou about what he believed was happening, but probably would not get an honest answer until we were alone together. Instead, I changed the subject, “How badly injured were the other passengers on the shuttle? Other than the crew, were there any passengers on the shuttle who were not part of this operation? Is the whole team off-planet already?”

  Molongo replied, “The whole team other than you two and Agent Chou were on that shuttle. Aside from the Ministers, there were no other passengers. The rest of their delegations along with Agent Chou came up two weeks ago to get the meeting site ready. Why do you ask?”

  “I would like to make my first executive decision as leader of the team and this will require military resources. The public word should be that everyone on the team including Agent Kameha and myself, perished in the accident, or at least is in a coma. We who are dead will need new ID. The move to the Mao should be expedited and done in total secrecy. Move us through the station in ammunition boxes, food containers, packages of raw cloth, whatever, but no one is to leave the secure areas except you two who have already been out. General, Agent, please be very cautious about your personal security. We should move on military shuttles to the Mao: do not trust anything serviced by ESK personnel. If you can arrange it, the captain of the Mao should place the ship on lockdown, recall all crew members, and begin an immediate security sweep looking for drugs, explosives and unauthorized weapons. Trust nothing that has arrived recently from the ESK. Can that be done?”

  “You do not ask for much, do you?” The general looked more amused than concerned. “Wait, you do not actually think...”

  “I am not sure what I think yet, General, especially since we have not heard what Agent Chou and yourself have to say about the events that lead you to assemble this team. However, I am aware of two completely different incidents
on this station that both speak of major security failures. The attack on the shuttle was clearly intended to kill people. The coincidence that a delegation of Ministers from the Terrestrial Council as well as a team of elite intelligence agents were on that shuttle suggests that it was planned by someone who knew of our existence and our timetable. The security and secrecy around that shuttle should have been airtight, but it clearly was not.”

  Chou nodded. “Espionage and sabotage are strange affairs, general. Once a trap has been prepared, it can be triggered by someone completely innocent, perhaps someone who lives next to the spaceport and watches all the launches as a hobby. They call a friend to discuss an unexpected launch of a new shuttle in the fleet and bang, dozens of people die.”

  Maryanne added, “That is true, although the people who know the most about politically sensitive launches are the launch operators themselves and the administrators who organized the trip. I mention this because every time in the last five years we got close to the major drug or weapons suppliers, one of the regional governments would raise objections and halt the investigation. Sometimes they had valid issues, but we noticed that the objections always seemed to arise when the evidence started to point to companies with strong ties both to Mars and to senior politicians.

  “That was also when the investigations started to get dangerous. After a few close calls, we got nervous about chasing leads too high up the political ladder. The shuttle incident strikes me as another example of a close call, and I also prefer not to take chances when the stakes are this high. We need to do something that the organizers have not planned.”

  Chou nodded. “I too have had endless trouble with local authorities and corruption, which seems to hide behind everything that goes wrong. That is true both on the Earth and on Mars. If there is a Martian connection, it probably still involves the regional governments of the Earth and the profits of wealthy corporations. The gangs and factions are just the tools they use when money and political authority do not suffice. We need to conceal our own continued existence and hide in a place they cannot easily penetrate.”

  Molongo looked at Chou, then back at Maryanne and myself. Finally, he sighed, “I do not like where your logic leads, but I cannot dispute it. Station Security suggested the move to the Mao, but claimed to be on top of the situation and gave it no urgency. Now I wonder what other motives StaSec might have. I will see what can be done. Most immediately, I will alert the Mao of our concerns and tell the captain to prepare for the transfer of the delegation. He should also start an emergency recall of his crew. Do not get too comfortable; it might be a short night.”

  2357-03-02 10:00

  News and Views

  We spent the next few hours gently exercising our arms and practicing with the comm unit. I was tempted to check the state of the investigations I had had my team start, but refrained because I might already be officially dead. I had learned long ago that is best if dead men avoid leaving fresh footprints. I noted to myself that I needed to rebuild a channel to my Fairy Dust investigation team that preserved my anonymity.

  I scanned the public news feeds. The Fairy Dust had raised a lot of noise. Today they had an interview with the CEO of Connaught Freight Enterprises, the small shipping company that owned her. They serviced mines on several of the smaller near-earth asteroids, with stop-offs at the Earth and Moon. He explained that he had given each of the four freighters in the company's fleet a whimsical name because the cargo itself was so prosaic, mostly specialty alloys, mining equipment and food on the outbound flights, bulk ores inbound. His voice trembled as he told how the loss of the Fairy Dust was devastating the company, which was scrambling to meet its delivery schedule. Several weeping employees testified that the crew were loved by everyone. Financial reporters claimed that the company was having trouble reaching a settlement with their insurance company and was contemplating a lawsuit against the manufacturer of the defective drive. I felt sorry for all of them, because I expected they would have no luck with either the insurance companies or the lawsuit. There was no mention of a nuclear explosion; the official line was that the ion drive, or perhaps the reactor, had somehow exploded, even though the design requirements for both components forbade reactive elements to ensure that they could not explode. The whole interview was unreal.

  Similarly, reports on the shuttle accident continued to claim that an explosive bolt in one of the clamps on the tug had somehow detonated. I was watching live when breaking news revealed that the heroic captain of the shuttle had died of unrecognized internal injuries sustained during the accident. Following long-held spacer traditions, the captain's funeral would be held in space and her body recycled; only her personal effects would be returned to the grieving relatives. I personally suspected she was already on her way to the Mao or even the Moon under a new name, and was probably grieving as badly as her family. If things settled down, they might be reunited miraculously in a few months.

  There was also a report that a canister of pharmaceuticals had broken free during the accident. The contents were suspected to have been toxic, which might account for some unpleasant symptoms exhibited by the other crew and passengers. No other deaths were reported yet, but the stage was set for one of the worst space disasters since the Incursion. None of the passengers were identified.

  Then I went on to the political and economic news, noting which regions were in turmoil, which governments were suddenly concerned with law and order, and especially which corporate stocks rose and fell. I longed to request a full analysis through my custom corruption-watch service, but did not dare to access the interface until I had an identity that was not dead or dying.

  Maryanne found the game that used our comm interface, available inside MI but blocked from outside access. We played a few rounds of the start-up levels and she trounced me soundly. Partly, I excused myself as being unfamiliar with the interface. Mostly, I refused to use what I had learned on Mars in case I exposed an expertise that I had gained under deep cover. I did not want to reveal how much I knew about infiltration, demolition and guerrilla war, nor the tactics that had cause such suffering on Mars that I was still a wanted man everywhere in the outer solar system. Mostly I played to learn the interface and after a few hours was becoming proficient at talking over the comm while engaging in light conversation with the orderlies. It is important to understand how to score your victories.

  Doctor Marin came around after lunch. She was looking very tired and was probably on an earlier shift from us. In fact, as I thought about it, I was not sure what shift we were supposed to be on any more. Days do not mean much in space, but we needed our clocks to coordinate our activities with everyone else, and still divided each twenty-four-hour period into three shifts. The people working each shift still spoke of morning, day and evening with breakfast late in the morning, lunch at mid-day, and dinner in the early evening. Night tied together the end of the evening and the start of morning, when most people choose to sleep, but it is always night for a third of the people on a station, and always morning, day and evening.

  Earth stations are in geosynchronous orbits, so in common usage we also refer to the main, early and late shifts. The “main” shift is chosen so that people are at work at the same time as those on the Earth directly below. The early shift is eight hours before the main shift, and the late shift is eight hours later. Simple enough, until you must coordinate the work schedules of a team of agents who move amongst six stations spaced half a shift apart around the Earth, switching their work hours as they go.

  The ESK orbited above longitude 0, the Greenwich meridian. The main shift worked from 09:00 to 17:00 UTC. I checked my imbedded clock. It was now 2357-03-02 12:44, a week after the Fairy Dust incident and two days after Maryanne and I had checked into CI T&A.

  Nominally, we were working the main shift, but that was not likely true for the Council ministers Molongo had mentioned. After the Final War had obliterated the old United Nations centres in Geneva and New York, the new Ter
restrial Council had chosen to locate its main offices in Perth in the region of Westoz. Australia was as secure and prosperous as any place left on the Earth, and was equally inconvenient for almost everyone who did not live there. If Molongo and the Council ministers wished to retain close contact with their offices on the ground, they were probably working the early shift to match Westoz time.

  Time seems simple to people who work in one place all their lives, but is actually a mess. Coordinating attacks on Mars had nearly driven me mad, with my contacts in each faction using their own local time, or one of the standard Martian time zones, or some offset from Coordinated Universal Time. The Governors had required the use of UTC for business transactions to facilitate communications with the home governments and corporate headquarters. It was one of the endless irritants that enraged people on Mars.

  When Molongo had commented that it might be a short night, he had looked tired. His “short night” might be over already and we had not even tried to sleep yet. I kicked myself mentally, grateful momentarily that I could not move my legs, and called Molongo's number to check if there was an update on when we would be moving. His office reported that the Mao was scrambling to get its crew back on board, having dispersed them amongst all six earth stations during their down time. With orbital periods of twenty-four hours, even military transports with power to burn took at least twelve hours to reach the farther stations. We had at least another day before the scheduled transfer.

  I pondered that for a few minutes. Even if the captain had accepted my suggestion to recall the crew, I had expected the recall to be been done quietly over several days. It would also have caused a lot less fuss on the stations. I was not going to be a popular man when I did reach the ship, and my intended interview with the captain might be awkward. Then again, he and Molongo might know something I did not. I called quietly to Maryanne, “I think we should have the orderly prepare us for imminent transfer.”