Luckily, most of the... oddities were to be found at the beta dig site. He might be able to put off going there for a few weeks, maybe.
Tebrey walked with the xenobiology team out to the edge of the cleared zone. Dr. Richard Pierre Bauval was remarking about the rapidity with which Terran plants and animals had adapted and spread across the planet.
"I've been on quite a few planets where Terran plants and animals have spread far and wide," Tebrey said. "What's so odd about these?"
"The patterning of the distribution," Dr. Bauval replied. "Most of the Terran organisms follow a standard dispersal that is consistent with them being seeded eight to nine hundred years ago, just what I would expect."
Tebrey nodded. "That makes sense, so what's bothering you?"
"Because not everything follows that pattern," he said. "Some of the plants, in particular, are evenly spread over the whole continent. It's as if they have been here much longer."
"Are you sure they are actually Terran in origin?" asked Tebrey. "Could they simply be close terrestrial analogues, like the Rhyrhans?"
When humans first encountered the Rhyrhans, they were shocked to discover a species biologically similar to their own. Rhyrhans were easily classified as mammals, although like nothing on Earth. Much of the life on their homeworld would have passed unremarked upon on old Earth, at least at first glance, but Rhyrhan plants were poisonous, semi-mobile, and highly aggressive. Rhyrhans themselves were expansionistic and territorial, but very skilled at diplomacy. They were one of the few alien species that humankind hadn't had a war with – at least not yet.
Dr. Bauval shook his head. "No, it's more complex than that. These plants are genetically identical to the Terran ones, not just similar. This plant here." He indicated a strange, low tree with leathery, narrow leaves. "What would you say this is?"
"Green?" Tebrey laughed. "I have no idea, Doctor. I'm from Valhalla. I never even saw plants until basic training."
"What? Oh, yes, the planet," said Bauval.
Valhalla was an icy world with an unbreathable atmosphere and domed cities that burrowed deep into the crust. A mining colony centuries ago, it had been cut off and forced to survive on its own. To say that the inhabitants tended to be spartan would be an understatement. Tebrey had been frightened of the massive green things he found on other worlds, things that could poison, sting, cut, and abrade. At least Tebrey hadn't had problems with agoraphobia like some recruits.
"Well, anyway, it is Arbutus unedo." Bauval continued after seeing Tebrey's blank look. "It's a strawberry tree, native to Ireland, France, and Portugal on old Earth. It got transplanted out to a few colonies during the original exodus, but never did well. It seems quite hardy here and is located all across the continent."
"Nine hundred years is a long time, Doctor. Or maybe this tree just liked the local conditions better than most." Tebrey shrugged. "It is pretty, though."
Bauval snorted dismissively. "I suppose it is attractive. It just shouldn't be here. None of the colonists were from those regions of Earth. We have discovered several species of animals that appear to be animals that were extinct at the time of the colonization."
"Extinct? Like what?" Tebrey was suddenly very interested in the conversation. Thousands of years before humans had reached for the stars, aliens had visited the worlds of the local cluster, gathering specimens and performing genetic experiments. Supposedly Earth had been missed because of an ice age, but if the Achenar had visited Earth and Cedeforthy, then the metallic artifacts found at the other dig site might belong to them.
Tebrey had to examine those artifacts.
"We've identified two distinct species of cattle," Bauval said. "One of them may turn out to be Bos primigenius, an aurochs. The last aurochs died in captivity in Europe in 1627, hundreds of years before we stepped into space. We have dozens of other plant and animal species that are equally odd."
"Could they be some sort of genetic throwbacks?" Tebrey asked. His mind was still reeling at the thought of finding Achenar weapons.
"Possibly," the scientist replied. "There is certainly a strong tendency for genetic drift in the human population. It would follow that it would be the same for the plants and animals. There have been attempts to back-breed extinct animals before; this could a natural form of that. There are enough natural predators here that may make the larger size of the aurochs evolutionarily desirable for defense, and the planet is rich in heavy elements which could lead to mutation."
"What kind of genetic drift has there been in the people?"
"You're going with Dr. Mason to Renivee tomorrow, right? You'll see for yourself."
Captain Thomas watched the large viewscreen in his office with a certain sense of satisfaction as the two shuttles came up from the surface. Preliminary reports suggested that the new military attaché was taking his job seriously and acting quite professionally, without erratic behavior. The captain's only real concern was the knowledge that Dr. Anderson still hadn't talked to Lt. Commander Tebrey about the finds at dig site beta. The scientist was paranoid beyond all reason, and yet Thomas could understand why. A find this important needed to be shared with the whole Federation.
He gestured, and other information was displayed along with the images. Datalink from the shuttles constantly updated their relative positions and velocities. Once they got within ten kilometers, the onboard computers would take over and pilot them into their docking cradles in the shuttle bay.
The Loridell had been commissioned in 'Forty-seven. She was just over five hundred meters in length and carried a crew of twelve hundred, not including her science team passengers. She was essentially unarmed, with only a standard complement of four defensive laser batteries and two counter-missile decoy launchers. In the event of battle, the Loridell was meant to run, and was capable of reaching twenty-five percent of the speed of light before making the jump to hyperspace. She carried four Pelican-class, atmosphere-capable shuttles in her dropbay, and a ship-to-ship pinnace. She was one of the newer science vessels in the exploration arm of the Fleet. Captain Thomas was quite proud to be her first captain; most new starship production was being directed towards warships. The Nurgg technological advantage tipped the war in their favor, and only the greater production capacity of the Earth Federation and their allies was keeping the aggressive aliens at bay.
An unspoken command through his datalink expanded the display view so Thomas could see the bigger picture. Cedeforthy now appeared as a small ball with a display icon for the Loridell hovering near it. The three ships of the small task force designated to defend them were further out from the planet, near the larger of the moons.
I'll have to have another talk with Anderson, he thought to himself grimly. I don't want to lose my command because of his paranoia.
Tebrey had had a long day on the planet's surface, and he would've liked nothing better than to take a shower and turn in for the night. Unfortunately, he still had many reports to file. Fleet protocols required him to submit a report every day. The reports wouldn't get sent in until the end-of-the-week data burst via the deepcom, but they still had to be written.
Faster-than-light communication was dependent upon the use of quantum entanglement, an odd quirk of quantum particles that allowed them to transmit information instantly to any particles they were associated with, no matter what the distance. The system was known as dynamically entangled pair communications, or deepcom informally. It was also difficult to use and expensive to operate.
Tebrey needed to investigate the archive files to see if there was anything that the scientists were not telling him about. He could only imagine that there was. Fleet hadn't sent him out to Cedeforthy on a whim. There had to be something they had seen in one of the reports that suggested a military presence was needed, besides the deaths of those two students.
He set the data terminal to search, and took a quick shower. He doubted the search would turn up anything so easily, but he could try. He was reluctant to use the decryptio
n software in his command battlesuit's data-suite. The brute-force hacking software was meant to allow him to infiltrate enemy installations; he wasn't sure what effects it would have on the ship's systems.
However, several hours later when he had finished his reports and looked through the mass of useless data his preliminary search had turned up, Tebrey was forced to admit that he was going have to do things the hard way.
He activated his suit's computers via his datalink. A simple security hack gave him access to all the Loridell's storerooms. He then set a low-level data-spyder to crawl through the thousands of terabytes of data locked in the science team's secure servers. Given the large keyword list he had given it, the spyder was going to take some time to complete the search.
Tebrey checked ship-time. Just after midnight: it should be safe to do a little discreet investigating. He dressed quickly and then hesitated before deciding against wearing his pistol. It would be difficult to explain to the captain why he was prowling around, armed, in secure areas. The captain was already allowing Tebrey to keep his weapons and armor with him; he didn't wish to get that privilege revoked.
I doubt I'll encounter anyone who could stop me anyway, he thought humorlessly. The last thing he needed was a disciplinary report added to his already depressing personnel file.
His investigation of the science labs turned up nothing interesting: a few skeletons laid out for investigation, lots of pottery. He still needed to go through the cargo containers in storage aft of bulkhead sixteen on deck G, but he was getting tired. Time enough for that tomorrow, he thought. Maybe my spyder will turn up something. He strode quickly back to his room, too tired to notice the surveillance that had followed his investigation with trepidation.
Chapter Three
Dawn touched the eastern sky with crimson fire, as if the world was burning. A thick fog lay along the ground, and frost glittered from the grass. It had gotten very cold the night before, a sign of worse weather to come.
Private Gary Johnson was uncomfortably aware of the presence of the Special Operations commander in the co-pilot's seat as the skimmer sped toward the indigenous village. The commander hadn't said much that morning, but his oddly bright green eyes always seemed to see more than Johnson wanted them to. It was as if he was always watching, ready to criticize everything Johnson did.
Johnson tried not to think about it, but his mind refused to allow itself to be distracted by the simple act of piloting. He'd heard stories about Special Operations, dark, disturbing stories: They were said to be almost animals. They were absolutely without human emotion. There were whispers of dark rituals, powers man wasn't supposed to tamper with, and then there were the genetic abominations. At least the commander didn't have one of the hellish companions. That would have been too much for Johnson to bear.
Johnson was worried that the commander could read his mind – something about those weird eyes. There were things that Johnson didn't want the man to know. Things he didn't want anyone to know. Johnson had always thought of the stories of telepathy and such as bullshit, but being in proximity to this strange man made anything seem possible.
He caught Tebrey giving him an odd look. Very possible, indeed, he thought. He refocused his thoughts on piloting and tried not to shudder. It made him feel dirty to think that his mind might have been invaded. He was going to have to do something to ensure that it never happened again.
Even in the weak morning light, Tebrey could see the scattering of low buildings though the fog ahead. Private Johnson landed the skimmer a kilometer from the edge of the tilled fields. They would walk in from here.
"Thank you, Private."
"Sir." There was something vaguely hostile in the young man's voice, but Tebrey shrugged it off. He was used to getting the cold shoulder from people who didn't understand what it was that he did in the military. People either thought he was some kind of freak, or hated him because they saw the privileges he had but didn't think about the price paid in his own blood to get them.
Tebrey opened the side hatch, and the damp, icy air crawled over his skin. Frozen grass crunched under his boots. Condensation formed on his skin immediately, and he began to regret asking to come along. He adjusted the molecular weave on his uniform to be less permeable and stretched to warm up.
The rest of the anthropology team stepped out of the skimmer and unloaded the boxes of medical supplies that had been assigned to the village. Dr. Amber Mason, the team leader, fell into step with him as they walked to the village. "I want you not to be surprised at what you see in the village, Commander," she began. "It will be a lot different from anything you are used to. Also, many of the people there will be frightened of you because of your size and looks."
Tebrey was startled by that. Only then did he think about the fact that the rest of the team, even the marines, were shorter than his one hundred ninety-three centimeters. Dr. Mason herself was barely a meter and a half tall. "Okay... I'll try not to loom over anyone while I'm here. What's wrong with my looks?"
Dr. Mason chuckled before answering, giving him an appreciative glance. "I don't think there's anything wrong with your looks, Commander. It's just that most of the original colonists were from Quebec, India, and Pakistan on old Earth. The current population is generally short, stocky, and has dark hair, skin, and eyes – except the genetic aberrations, anyway. There's also a small group living in the mountains to the north, near the equator, that we think may be descended from the crew of a survey ship that was lost in this region about a hundred years ago. They look more like you."
"Okay," Tebrey said. "Why is that a problem?"
"They don't have a good reputation in this region. They tend to mount raids on the locals."
"Great, so you're saying they're going to think I'm a barbarian," he replied.
"Well, you'd really need a beard to complete the look," Mason said cryptically.
Dr. Mason wasn't sure what to make of the young commander. She had been warned by Dr. Anderson to keep an eye on him, but so far he seemed quite intelligent and perceptive. She couldn't figure out why James didn't like him. Other than the fact James didn't like anyone.
"You said not to be surprised by what I saw in the village," he asked. "What did you mean?"
"How do you feel about slavery, Commander?"
"What?" he asked, looking startled yet again. He really looked far too young to member of the semi-mythical Special Operations. "Slavery is an abomination. I understand that it exists in some places, but it's wrong. Why?"
"I thought you might say that. Look, from an anthropological point of view, there's nothing wrong with slavery. It's just another system of social stratification. For us, it's simply more data to add to our files. The idea of universal human rights died out centuries ago. Cultures must be accepted on their relative merits."
"So you're saying that they practice slavery here, and that you're okay with that?"
Dr. Mason thought he sounded disgusted. "It's not so much that I'm okay with it as it is that I don't let it affect my assessment of these people's culture. I'm not here as an agent of social change. Contrary to popular belief, historically, many slaveholding societies treated their slaves with compassion and respect. Slaves were often better fed, clothed, and educated than poor non-slaves. You have to be able to detach yourself from the mores of your society if you are interacting with others."
"When in Rome, Doctor?"
"Exactly," she replied, surprised at the reference. "You wouldn't expect an alien society to conform to the same rules and morals that you hold dear, would you?"
He shrugged, uncomfortable. "I'm not even sure what my own rules are."
"Let's take a look at your own case, then, Commander."
"What? What about me?" He didn't sound pleased.
"You serve in the military. You go where they tell you to. Eat what they tell you to. You'll probably die where they tell you to."
"You'd be surprised," he muttered.
"Well, you can't leave the m
ilitary without serious repercussions, nor can you choose not to obey when someone tells you what to do. You have to admit that it sounds a lot like slavery."
"That's ridiculous! I'm not a slave. I chose to join the military. After my first four years, I chose to sign up for another four. I have rights."
"Ah, you say you chose to join the military, but I would be willing to guess that your socio-economic situation was such that the military was your only real choice."
"I don't see that as relevant, Doctor. I still chose to do what I did."
"Did you really?"
"I'm not sure that I feel comfortable continuing this conversation," he said coldly.
Mason sighed. She hadn't meant to alienate the young man. "All I'm saying, Commander, is don't get angry about what you see here. We are here to observe, not start a revolution."
Tebrey was glad to walk in silence.
His conversation with Dr. Mason left him shaken. Part of why it hurt was because deep down inside, where he didn't let himself look very often, he hated the years of death and misery that had characterized his military service. Special Operations drew the kinds of missions that didn't get reported in the media. He'd had to do things for the Earth Federation that haunted his dreams. There was a place in his mind that was burned away, a void where love had once been. The loss of his companion on the Kirov had left him with a pain that no amount of physical therapy or mental reconstruction could ever heal.
He felt the tears well up and hated himself for automatically overriding his natural bodily functions to suppress it. He couldn't afford to be perceived as weak by anyone on this mission, or even by himself.
The Remnant Page 3