The Aleph Extraction

by Dan Moren

  Eli glanced at Mal, who was slowly pressing controls on their sleeve; a drop of sweat splashed onto the fabric display, distorting the image, and they wiped it away, leaving a smeared blurry streak.

  “Sorry,” said Mal. “The lockdown imposes extra security layers. This is going to take a little bit.”

  “It’s OK, kid,” said Tapper. “Take your time and get it right.”

  Eli shot a glance at the gray-haired man. “We’re about to have company here.”

  With a final, almost threatening tone, the lift door slid aside, and a contingent of six security guards fanned out, each of them carrying serious-looking weaponry.

  Eli ducked behind the meager cover provided by the railing and reluctantly drew the knockout gun from his holster. He’d heard people say they felt reassured by the weight of a weapon in their hand, but it just made him feel like throwing up. The grip was warm and slick to his touch.

  Below, the security team had established a perimeter around the room. Eli could hear a low voice ask something, but couldn’t make out the words. He risked a glance over the railing in time to see the bartender point a wavering hand up at them; a security guard’s eyes followed it towards Eli and for a moment their gazes locked. Her weapon snapped up and Eli ducked back down.

  “Any time now,” he hissed at Mal.

  “I’m going as fast as I can!”

  A voice called from below. “You there! Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up. This is your only warning; any other action and we will open fire.”

  Eli looked at Tapper, whose expression was unconcerned. The sergeant waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. That’s just something you say.”

  Next to them, Mal wiped their arm across their forehead. “OK, almost got it. Just another minute.”

  I don’t think we have another minute.

  Tapper beckoned with one hand at Eli. “Gimme that conker on your belt.”

  Eli stared at him blankly.

  The sergeant sighed. “The concussion grenade.”

  Patting his waist, Eli unclipped the small cylinder – cold, smooth, and heavy in his hand – and passed it over.

  “Thirty seconds,” said Mal.

  “I repeat,” the voice yelled from below. “Come out with your hands up and throw down your weapons.”

  Tapper fiddled with the grenade. “Hold on,” he called over the balcony. “Do we throw down our weapons first or put our hands up first?”

  There was a pause. “What?”

  “Which order was it?” Tapper yelled, ripping off the grenade’s safety tab.

  “I… We… Just come out with your hands up!”

  “Get ready to move,” Tapper said. “Mal?”

  “Ten seconds.”

  Tapper nodded and then started to stand. “I’m standing up. Don’t shoot!” He rose from behind the balcony, the concussion grenade still clutched in one hand.

  “Drop your weap… oh, shit!”

  Several things happened at once. As Tapper hit the deck behind the railing, his hand now empty, Eli heard the sound of several people scattering, at least one of them shouting “Grenade!” Mal triumphantly tapped a button and the door in front of them clanked as the lock was released, then slid open. Below there was a tremendous bass thwump followed by an ear-splitting symphony of wood splintering, glass shattering, and screams.

  Tapper belly-crawled his way through the door, dragging Mal, who had put their hands over their head, by the collar. Eli didn’t need to wait for an invitation; he scrambled over and rolled in an undignified heap through the door.

  The sergeant reached up and slapped the controls panel above him, the door sliding shut with a hiss. Pulling himself upward, Tapper pried the panel off the wall and pulled out a mess of wiring, which sparked and sputtered in his hand.

  “There we are then,” he said. “Done and dusted. Everything according to plan.”

  “That was, if anything, even stupider than you explained it,” said Eli. “How the hell are you still alive after all these years?”

  Tapper grinned. “Trust me, kid. This isn’t how I go out. Now come on, both of you. We’ve got a job to finish.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Not having to avoid surveillance cameras on the way to al-Kitab’s cabin was a blessing, but it also proved to be the least of Kovalic and Nat’s worries. White Star security personnel, some of them loaded for bear, were roaming the corridors, especially on the more exclusive levels of the starliner.

  Couldn’t have your well-paying guests put at risk, naturally.

  Nat looked back from around the corner and nodded at Kovalic. “We’re clear. But the patrol’s on a two-minute loop, so let’s make it fast.”

  Kovalic slipped around the corner and made a beeline for cabin A986, keeping his head down and strolling as casually as he could manage. He rapped softly on the door with a knuckle.

  After a moment, a holoscreen flickered to life in front of him, the bearded face of al-Kitab staring at him with suspicion. “Who is it?”

  Kovalic lifted his head just enough for the professor to get a look; the other man’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, yes. One moment.”

  The door clicked open and Kovalic jerked his head at Nat, watching from the end of the corridor. She double-timed it over to him and they disappeared inside just as the sound of the approaching White Star patrol made its way to them.

  Al-Kitab was thrumming with nervous energy. His large, dark eyes darted from the kit to Kovalic and he pointed a hesitant finger at it. “Is that… it?”

  Kovalic rested a hand on the case, watching as al-Kitab shakily clasped his own together. Coming face to face with something that you’d dreamt of your whole life had to be overwhelming. For Kovalic, it would be like setting foot on Earth again after all these years, but he’d found it better not to dwell on something that might never happen.

  Without saying anything, Kovalic walked past the professor, placed the toolkit on the coffee table, and flipped up the latches to open it. A deep indrawn breath came from behind him as he lifted the tablet out.

  “Oh my…”

  He looked over his shoulder, and this time he could see glimmers at the edges of al-Kitab’s eyes as the professor took in the tablet. And yet he made no move toward it, keeping the couch between them as if it were a defensive barrier.

  Kovalic gave Nat a look and she placed a hand on al-Kitab’s elbow. “Professor?”

  “Hm? Oh yes. Pardon me. It’s just… it’s more beautiful than I’d imagined.” Slowly, he rounded the couch, squeezing past Kovalic, and sitting down between him and Nat, the tablet before him. He reached out with one wavering hand and then extended an experimental finger, touching the tablet and then snatching it away as though it might burn him.

  “I ought to be wearing gloves,” he murmured, as if chastising himself. “But it’s so smooth.”

  Nat’s brow creased. “What’s it made out of? It seems light for metal.”

  “I have no idea,” said al-Kitab. His gaze remained fixed on the artifact. “It’s survived for so long and in such good condition. There has been speculation that it’s an advanced alloy unknown to us. Others have theorized an element that we haven’t even discovered yet. I’ll need to run tests.”

  Kovalic tilted his head. “First we need to establish its authenticity,” he said gently. The auction house had supposedly proved the tablet’s provenance, but it had passed through a lot of hands in the last few days – Kovalic would feel better if they made sure this was in fact the object they’d been sent to retrieve.

  “Of course, of course. Forgive me.” Dr al-Kitab broke eye contact with the tablet for the first time, then got back to his feet and stepped over Kovalic. “Let me just get my equipment set up. It will only take a moment.” He disappeared into the bedroom.

  Nat gave a quiet laugh. “Just like an academic.”

  Kovalic shook his head and checked his sleeve. No word from Tapper and Brody yet, but he wasn’t expecting anything until they were in
position. “You’d know better than I – my schooling got interrupted by an invasion.”

  Dr al-Kitab returned from the bedroom toting another case, roughly the same footprint as the toolkit containing the tablet, but three or four times thicker. Placing it on the coffee table next to the toolkit, he opened it to reveal a flat glass plate on the bottom half, a folding metal framework above it. Flipping a few switches, the device started to hum.

  “That’s a Naismith L3-25 portable scanner,” said Nat, which was evidently impressive, gauging the tone of her voice. “Top of the line.”

  The professor was no less impressed. “You know your equipment, madam. I’ve been lucky enough to receive some generous grants, and my needs are often fairly modest, so I felt justified in… splurging for this job.” This time he did pull out a pair of latex gloves before removing the tablet from the toolkit and, holding his breath the whole time he handled it, placing it on the scanner. “I’ve tuned this equipment to my specifications, allowing me to perform mass spectrometry, thermoluminescence testing – likely not even applicable to this material – and X-ray fluorescence spectroscopy, as well as measure radioactive decay. It ought to be able to establish the provenance of the artifact beyond a reasonable doubt.”

  Kovalic scratched his head. He’d understood some of that, but it was definitely outside of his realm of expertise. “I’ll trust you on that one, professor. Better get started. No idea how long we have.” It was only a matter of time before White Star security started going door-to-door to find them.

  Al-Kitab was staring at a holoscreen that had shimmered into existence above the device, stroking his goatee. He blinked and looked back at Kovalic. “Of course, of course.”

  Putting his hands on his thighs, Kovalic pushed himself up and gave Nat a meaningful look; she joined him as he made his way for the coffeemaker on the end table.

  “Can you keep an eye on the security channels?” he asked as he unearthed a clean cup. “Maybe give us a heads-up if White Star’s about to come knocking?”

  “Sure,” said Nat, frowning as she pulled her console rig out of her bag and started to set it up. “Something got you spooked?”

  In truth, he wasn’t sure, but there was something gnawing at him. Like there was still a bullseye on them, even with Mirza gone. “You think this thing’s the real deal?” He punched a button and the coffee machine burbled to life.

  Nat raised her shoulders. “Beats me. I understand the science of what he’s doing, but I’m not exactly an expert in extraterrestrial archaeology. Hell, I didn’t even know the field existed until today.”

  “I’m not sure how big of a ‘field’ it really is – may just be him,” said Kovalic as the coffee finished pouring. He retrieved the cup and took a sip, biting back on the intense bitterness, then passed it to Nat.

  “If it isn’t real then we’ve all gone through a lot of trouble for nothing,” said Nat, raising the cup.

  Including sacrificing Sayers. Suddenly, Kovalic felt bone-tired. He rubbed at his eyes, blurred with fatigue. “I know I should be more concerned about the fate of the galaxy – that’s the job – but I’m… uneasy about what we’re trading for it. Leaving people behind. What’s the point in ending the war if we lose our humanity along the way?” An image flashed in his memory: a park bench on Bayern, a gun in his hand.

  Fingers touched his arm, and he looked over to find Nat’s blue eyes on him. “As long as you’re still worried about it, I think we’re in fine hands.”

  With the door shut and locked behind them, Eli finally had a moment to take in their surroundings. Lights had warmed up at their presence, illuminating a large room full of display cases, pedestals bearing works of art, and paintings.

  “Looks like your boss has expensive tastes,” said Tapper, raising his eyebrows at Mal.

  No kidding. Most of these things are probably worth more than the apartment I grew up in.

  The firefight had clearly rattled the tech. Mal had started breathing heavily, looking around like a deer who saw hunters at every turn. “Oh, man, this is the private collection. We’re dead for sure.”

  “Oi, none of that,” said Tapper sharply. “Nobody’s dying here. Come on.” He started towards a door at the other end of the room, the only obvious exit from the gallery.

  Eli followed the older man and, after a moment, Mal trailed after him, sweating profusely and trying to keep a lid on the moans.

  Jesus, I hope I wasn’t this bad the first time they recruited me. I guess I should say something encouraging?

  “Buck up,” said Eli, reaching over and slapping Mal on the back. “He knows what he’s doing. He’s never let anybody die on his watch.” Best leave Page out of it. And that pilot they had before me. “Well, almost never.”

  Mal gulped.

  “You two stop gabbing,” said Tapper. “Mal, can you override this door?”

  The tech’s lip twisted in thought. “Most of this is secured to Madam Xi’s private codes or her personal guard. I’ve never tried to crack anything that secure…”

  Tapper turned back to the door. “There’s got to be a manual override somewhere.”

  Eli frowned, turning back to survey the room. Maybe there was a panel hidden behind the wall somewhere. Or some sort of ventilation or maintenance shaft they could use to bypass the…

  Huh. That might work.

  Kovalic had always stressed taking the initiative and Eli’s pilot training had never discounted one’s gut instincts. Leaving Tapper and Mal at the door, he jogged over to the one of the displays, featuring a full-size suit of samurai armor, and drew forth the long, curved sword at the suit’s waist.

  The lights in the room immediately flickered red.

  Tapper’s head jerked up. “What the hell did you do?”

  Sprinting back towards the door, Eli hefted the sword.

  “Did you just steal a priceless artifact?”

  Mal’s jaw was working, but no sound was coming out.

  “No,” said Eli, “well, yes. I mean, technically. But you said you wanted a manual override, and I figured…” He held the sword out to the sergeant, who was staring at him with a mix of disbelief and respect.

  “Worth a shot,” said Tapper, snatching the sword from Eli’s grip. “Shame to ruin a piece of history, but well, it’s better than being a piece of history.” He slid the sword into the crack at the edge of the door. “Usually there’s an emergency release in here, just in case people lock themselves in. If I can just find the catch.”

  Bathed in red light, the room had taken on a sinister, eerie feeling, only compounded by a sound of hissing, as though a giant snake had been released. I think I’ve just given myself nightmares.

  It took Eli a moment to see the translucent clouds issuing from the vents overhead. “Uh. Sarge?”

  Tapper was grunting with effort as he attempted to lever the door open with the blade. The sword stood up impressively well for what Eli assumed was a several century old artifact. A testament to the blacksmith that had made it. “I’m a little busy, kid.”

  “Uh, I think maybe she put in some countermeasures.”

  “What?” Tapper followed Eli’s gaze up to the vents. “Shit. There’s no way that’s good. Hold on.” Bracing his feet against the door frame, he pulled with all his might.

  Mal was looking up at the vents now too, their expression having turned more analytical than fearful.

  Eli glanced over at them. “Uh, do you know what this stuff is?”

  “Morphex,” said Mal, blinking at the clouds as if reading a database entry. “Renders you unconscious within a minute. Which means we’ve got about thirty seconds, unless either of you has some sort of air filtration system.”

  Eli rubbed his eyes. They were starting to get blurry. Damn it, should have held on to the vacsuit. “Are there emergency respirators in here somewhere?”

  Mal shook their head, slow and ponderous. “Only issued to Xi’s personal security guards.”

  “So trusting. Sarge?�
�� Eli stifled a yawn with his hand.

  Frustrated, the sergeant was still pulling on the sword, to little avail. “Oh, come on, you stupid…” Wedging the sword in the crack between the door and the wall he kicked the handle, setting the sword vibrating back and forth like a tuning fork. “For fuck’s sake…”

  Eli found himself sitting on the floor without really realizing it, his head thick as though it had been wrapped in cotton. Maybe they needed more swords. There had been another over there, right? If he just crawled over, he could get a whole armful of swords and they could use them like acupuncture needles on the door’s pressure points, convincing it that it really was in its best interest – health, really – to open…

  He didn’t even remember his head hitting the deck.

  “Shit,” said Nat, looking up from her console rig. “Security alarm.”

  Kovalic had been sitting on the arm of the couch with the bouncer he’d taken from the guard at the lifeboat, but at this he stood, aiming the muzzle toward the door. “They found us?”

  Nat shook her head. “No, it’s somewhere else.” Her eyebrows went up as she read from the screen. “Xi’s private quarters. Some sort of theft countermeasure got triggered. It just hit the central security system and everything is freaking out. As if they already weren’t on high alert.”

  “Small favors,” said Kovalic. “Maybe that’ll keep their attention elsewhere.” He glanced over at al-Kitab. The scanner was humming away, a bright line of light inching over every micrometer of the tablet’s surface. “How’s it going, doctor?”

  The professor looked up. “I’m afraid it’s too early to form any conclusions. I can tell you that this tablet is definitely a form of metal, though I’ll need to wait until the mass spectrometer has finished its analysis to figure out its exact composition.”

  “But you think it’s authentic?”

  “I don’t like to jump the gun, as you might say…”

  “But?”