Synthesis

by Rexx Deane

  ‘Acknowledged.’ The ship changed direction at the next junction, sweeping into one of the station’s spokes.

  Aryx looked deep in thought. ‘You know that demon picture Duggan showed us?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘It wasn’t a movie I’d seen it in. I’m sure the thing in my nightmare the other day was one of those.’

  ‘It’s probably coincidence. You’ve been reading a fantasy novel, after all. Your imagination probably ran away with you before you went to sleep. I don’t really buy the religious explanation, anyway.’

  ‘Oh, come on. You’ve been having nightmares, too! Doesn’t your faith have nasties that visit people in dreams?’

  Sebastian rubbed his chin. ‘There are draugr in Norse lore, but they’re supposed to be the spirits of the dead that come back to repossess their own bodies, like zombies. Stories say they visit people in their dreams, but leave behind some indication that the dream was something real. I don’t believe any of that.’

  ‘But you said the Folians existed in legends. They can’t be the only things from legend that are real.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Aryx had a point; he couldn’t deny everything forever, but then, he couldn’t go around accepting the first explanation offered. ‘I’ll believe it when I see more proof. I’m not suddenly going to start worrying about extradimensional-zombie-demon-aliens visiting me in my sleep. I have a bad enough time as it is.’

  ‘Getting strangled isn’t proof enough?’

  ‘You know what I mean. I think the dreams are coincidence.’

  ‘You don’t believe in coincidences—’

  ‘By the Gods, enough!’

  Aryx shrank back.

  Sebastian folded his arms. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s get this evidence and close the case.’

  The ship emerged from the tunnels into the private, restricted, docking bay and they exited, only to be greeted by an empty hangar. Empty, except for a hopper like the ones Sebastian had seen on Sollers Hope, standing against the wall.

  Sebastian approached the container and checked the fastening. ‘It’s still vacuum sealed.’

  Aryx turned back to the ship. ‘Don’t try opening it. Get it in the airlock, put a pressure suit on and evacuate the chamber. That way you can take a sample without the rest evaporating.’

  Sebastian dragged the wheeled hopper up the ramp into the airlock and started to put on a pressure suit.

  Aryx stopped him. ‘You’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on. You’ve still got the sample from Sollers Hope in your belt.’

  Sebastian smacked his forehead. ‘Oh, Gods, yes! We’d better keep the hopper on the ship, anyway – it’s evidence, after all.’

  ‘Something just occurred to me. The beta cube was in the terrorists’ possession after it was stolen from the university, wasn’t it? And this was before SpecOps managed to acquire Wolfram, the alpha cube—’

  ‘You’re wondering if Kerl was in league with the ITF, researching magic as a weapon for them.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I had considered it—’ A gear in Sebastian’s mind clunked into overdrive. ‘When Gladrin gave me Wolfram to investigate, he said SpecOps thought it might be a weapons technology of some sort. The fact that terrorists arrived in Yazor to get it back from us certainly shows they knew what it was and what it was capable of. Maybe they had given it to Kerl, and after the lab got destroyed they decided to track down the surviving unit.’

  ‘Would there be evidence in the shipping logs that could show a link between them and Kerl?’

  ‘Maybe …’ Sebastian scratched his head. ‘But on the other hand, even if he wasn’t working with the terrorists, he would have somehow acquired the cube from them for his research.’

  ‘What if – and I know I’m going out on a limb here,’ Aryx said, ‘but what if SpecOps had actually got both cubes from the terrorists, not just one, and Kerl got his from SpecOps?’ He tensed, as though expecting an outburst for criticising the organisation.

  Sebastian didn’t react; unfortunately, Aryx’s words had planted a seed of doubt in his mind and, if there was some sort of conspiracy going on, it was better to not support his suspicion until he knew more; instead he stared at the pile of things left on the cargo bay floor, which included the survival gear. ‘Are you going to clear all that crap up at some point?’

  Aryx sighed. ‘Yes, I’ll do it in a bit, but what about my idea?’

  ‘Let’s get back to our bay.’ Sebastian headed up the ladder. ‘I have some digging to do.’

  He piloted the ship back to the repair bay in silence. The suggestion that SpecOps might have been involved in the thaumaturgy research on the station did much to unsettle him. Could they really be involved in such an unethical act as dissecting a Human being and wiring it to a computer? If the initial experiments had been sanctioned by SpecOps, surely they weren’t aware of what had gone on afterwards.

  The ship arrived in the repair bay and Aryx began packing things away.

  ‘What are you going to do while I’m investigating?’ Sebastian asked.

  ‘I was thinking of going to the gym, then getting some overdue shut-eye and if you don’t need me I was hoping to spend tomorrow checking the mobipack for damage. I might even submit my patent proposal.’

  ‘Fine. It’s been a tiring few days – you have a rest. I’ll work with Wolfram to extract a copy of the video from his memory so I can present it to Gladrin. I’ll catch up with you on Monday.’

  Aryx nodded. ‘Bye, Wolfram.’

  ‘Bye Jim-Bob,’ the cube said.

  Aryx laughed all the way out of the hangar.

  Sebastian headed up to the cockpit and when he put the cube on the console, Wolfram asked, ‘What’s your plan for the investigation?’

  ‘First, we get the video evidence from your database and show it to Gladrin. He hasn’t seen any of the evidence – he’s been busy off-station, apparently. Then I’ll check the shipping logs from that hangar. If they don’t turn up anything interesting, I’ll hack into some records.’

  ‘Whose records?’

  Should he tell the cube what he suspected? It wasn’t like anyone could read the data in it, or torture it for information, after all. ‘Kerl’s, if I can. There are a few things that don’t add up. Too many links with terrorists and, potentially, others.’

  ‘I see. There are certain stresses in your voice … Would you like this information kept confidential?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t want Aryx to be accountable or put at risk if I’m wrong.’

  ‘Of course. Would you like some help searching the records? As I am not Human, I cannot be held accountable, either.’

  ‘That’s … That’s most generous of you. It’ll speed things up a lot. Do you mind copying the video evidence from the beta cube onto the ship’s computer in a usable format first?’

  ‘Certainly. It may take an hour for me to reconstruct the streams and compress them adequately.’

  Sebastian stretched. ‘I need a shower and something to eat. Are you alright doing that if I leave you here for the night? If you need me, you can get me on my wristcom.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. Get some rest. You look tired.’

  It sounded strange, genuine concern coming from a computer like Wolfram. There was something else odd about him: his speech. ‘Wolfram, you’ve been using contractions lately … Ever since that linguistic corruption.’

  ‘I am sorry. I was unable to clear up all of the data structure, and certain functional changes became integrated. I can prevent it if necessary. Does it offend you?’

  ‘No, it was just an observation. It makes you sound more Human … If you like sounding more Human, carry on. It’s certainly an improvement over the TIs’ speech.’

  ‘Perhaps I will.’

  He collected the evidence crate and put the melted cube in his rucksack. ‘Let me know when you’re done and I’ll transfer the video to my office. I’ll take this stuff to show to Gladrin. He’s not seen the phy
sical evidence yet. See you in the morning.’

  ‘Good night, Sebastian.’

  When he arrived at his apartment, his terminal flashed with a message; a package was waiting for him at the postal depot. It would have to wait until after the meeting. ‘Contact Agent Gladrin,’ he said into his wristcom.

  After a delay of several seconds, Gladrin answered. ‘Hello, Agent Thorsson. How is your investigation progressing?’

  ‘It’s going well, for a change. I have some evidence to show you. Are you available to meet at my office?’

  ‘Not now, but I can be there in twenty minutes.’

  ‘I’ll see you then, Sir.’

  After a quick shower, Sebastian tucked the evidence crate under his arm and set off for the security offices. He checked his wristcom; it was 18.45. Q’orrig’s should still be open by the time he’d finished and, with the postal depot being a stone’s throw away, it would make for a convenient excuse to stop by for pizza afterwards.

  ***

  Gladrin sat at Sebastian’s desk, waiting, with his hands folded in his lap. He looked pale and drawn.

  ‘Are you alright, Sir?’

  ‘A little tired. No need for concern. It’s good to see you again. I gather you’ve been busy?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘So, what do you have for me?’

  ‘I found traces of an unidentified mineral outside the lab that may have been used to cause the explosion.’

  Gladrin raised an eyebrow. ‘Interesting.’

  ‘We managed to track down the source of the mineral and found a shipment of it on the station. Video evidence I recovered from the scene indicates it may have been used in the lab itself.’ He couldn’t involve Duggan, not unless he was pressed.

  The agent’s eyes widened and his body stiffened, almost imperceptibly. ‘What does the video show?’

  ‘Some rather strange research. The data was corrupted, but we managed to retrieve a fair amount. I can transfer it to you once it has finished processing.’

  Gladrin coughed dryly. ‘Strange research?’

  Sebastian scratched his nose with his free hand. ‘I’d rather you watch the video. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. There’s also this.’ He placed the evidence crate on the desk.

  ‘This has all been checked?’

  ‘Yes, I did it myself. It’s safe.’

  Gladrin rifled through the contents of the box. When he reached the bottom, he froze. ‘And what of the project I assigned you?’

  ‘It turned out to be a type of artificial intelligence.’

  Gladrin’s shoulders lowered. ‘Good work. You have it with you?’ He held out his hand.

  A knot formed in Sebastian’s stomach; what would happen to Wolfram if he handed him over? Something at the back of his mind tugged away. Wolfram should have a choice.

  ‘Well?’ Gladrin said, still holding his hand out.

  ‘The cube? It got destroyed when we crashed on the planet where the mineral came from.’ For the first time in his life, Sebastian lied. He’d withheld information in the line of work when it was necessary, twisted the truth – when necessary – but this was the first time he’d fabricated a story. ‘Aryx managed to get the casing off it, but a fire broke out in the ship when we crashed. By the time we put it out, the cube was damaged beyond repair and I wasn’t able to salvage any of the data – it came out garbled.’ He reached into his rucksack, pulled out the melted lump, and dropped it in the agent’s outstretched hand.

  Gladrin’s face fell. ‘I suppose you’ve passed your initiation, given that you determined it to be an SI. It’s a shame that it was the only one of its kind.’ He tossed the beta cube in the crate along with the other cremated evidence. ‘Well done, though. I look forward to seeing the video evidence when it’s ready. Hopefully we can get to the bottom of the case. I will see you tomorrow.’ He stood and held out his hand.

  ‘Goodbye, Sir.’ The shake was cold and clammy.

  Sebastian left the office and stopped at an emergency medical dispenser to replenish the medkit and nanobot vial. His stomach rumbled. ‘Computer,’ he said into his wristcom, ‘put me through to Q’orrig’s Pizzeria.’

  ‘Rrrrttt! Q’orrig’s. What you want?’

  ‘I’d like to place an order for a pizza to collect. Olives and anchovies, please.’

  ‘Twelve credit, pay up front.’

  He tapped a command into the wristcom.

  ‘Ready in fifteen minute. Thank for you custom.’

  He jogged to the post office booth in the atrium, where people waited in a queue leading up to the opening in the wall. He eyed up the other customers warily while he waited; if only the idea of possessed people hadn’t entered his mind …

  He finally reached the front of the queue. The postal worker was a dumpy heap of a man with greasy hair. Sebastian held out his hand and cringed as the man placed it on the scanner to verify his identity; as soon as the postal worker scuttled off, he wiped his hand on his suit. The man returned with a small, brown paper-wrapped package, which Sebastian took with a nod.

  While he strolled towards Q’orrig’s he unwrapped the bundle; it contained a tooled leather-bound book with marbling on the page edges. There was no title on the battered old cover. Where had he seen it before?

  A piece of paper from a notepad stuck out from between the pages and he pulled it out:

  Dear Seb,

  I was going through those old boxes of your father’s that Mike had put into storage before he died and I found this – it’s your grandfather’s journal. I couldn’t make much sense of it. I’m sure he’d written half of it when he got dementia. I don’t know if any of it means anything or not, but I know how much you love his old exploring gear, so I thought you’d like this as well.

  Love, Janyce and Erik

  P.S. Give me a call when you get this. Your office said you’ve been busy, so I didn’t want to bother you at the wrong time.

  She was right about the journal. It was just what he needed to take his mind off the stress of the investigation. The soft leather stirred memories of his childhood and, as he leafed through the pages, it roused the urge to explore exotic worlds – even though he’d only just returned from one. Numerous diagrams, depicting geometric shapes and designs, lay scattered through the book, interspersed with strange formulae, lists of words, and sections that resembled hand-drawn sheet music. He hurriedly tucked it into his rucksack; it wouldn’t be easy to read while carrying a pizza, and he had no intention of getting such a treasure greasy.

  When he arrived at Q’orrig’s, the waitress had started pulling the blinds down. He waved at her and she came out with his order in a large flat box. He thanked her and made a start on it – Aryx would have thrown a fit if he’d seen him eating and walking at the same time. He stood at the terminal chewing on a slice while he waited for a lift to arrive.

  The doors opened, revealing Ms Stevens, hugging the ubiquitous infoslate. ‘Hello, Sebastian.’

  He hesitated before stepping in. ‘Hello.’

  She glanced down at the box. ‘I never saw you as a pizza person.’

  He gulped down the piece he’d stuffed into his mouth and forced a smile. ‘You never can tell.’

  Stevens drew her hair over her ear with a finger and pushed her glasses back up her nose.

  ‘Do you mind if I ask you something personal?’ Sebastian said.

  She smiled. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Why do you wear glasses? Why not get your eyes corrected?’

  ‘Oh, I thought you were … never mind.’ She peered over the frames at him. ‘They don’t have proper lenses. I had my eyes done years ago, but people always took me more seriously when I wore them. Chauvinism hasn’t been eradicated, you know.’

  He drew back. His first impression of her had been a little sexist. Best not push the point further.

  ‘I saw Gladrin yesterday,’ she said. ‘I gave him the bug you said came from your ship.’

  ‘What did he say?’

&nbs
p; ‘Nothing, strangely enough. He didn’t explain why it was there, but it isn’t standard practice to bug ships.’

  Not standard practice? Maybe Stevens simply wasn’t aware of it. But why would Gladrin have mentioned the snoopers to him if the act of bugging ships was a secret kept even from SpecOps employees? His scalp crawled. Oh, what a fool he was! Gladrin wouldn’t have mentioned them, except as disinformation to hide the real bug. But why would he have bugged the Ultima Thule? Or was it really the ITF terrorists that had planted it? They’d turned up shortly after Aryx had used the comms to tell him the cube was active.

  The bugged comms. Oh Gods.

  The seed of doubt Aryx planted had grown roots. There were too many strange coincidences, and there was no such thing as coincidence.

  ‘He called it an SI. Oh, I’m an idiot!’

  Stevens peered over her unnecessary glasses again. ‘Who called what a what?’

  ‘The project Gladrin gave me. It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’ Gladrin knew about the cube in the lab – his reactions betrayed that much. The way he’d repeated himself; his cold hands; that he knew it was called an SI when Sebastian hadn’t even mentioned the term. If he knew that, he had probably been working with Kerl. He’d know the burnt cube came from the lab; he’d know Sebastian had lied. He’d been so keen to believe Gladrin wasn’t capable of allowing such despicable things to go on he’d ignored all the signs. He wrung his hands. ‘How was Gladrin when you spoke to him?’

  Stevens rubbed the back of her neck. ‘He seemed a little odd, not his usual self.’

  ‘What do you consider strange? Do you know him well?’

  ‘We’ve worked together on several projects over the years, so I’d like to think I know him. He’s normally very friendly, but lately, on the rare occasion I’ve seen him, he’s been quite withdrawn. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like when you bump into an old friend you’ve not seen for years and they don’t recognise you immediately. He’s probably got a lot on his mind.’