by Rook Winters
“I wonder what Freud would make of the assumption that a sword is male?” Ursula said.
“Who’s Freud?” Court asked.
“Enough of this,” Britt said. “We have serious matters at hand. Elle, let’s take a look at that suit. Maybe Ursula can help.”
Elle pulled her suit and helmet from its bag. Ursula moved the electronics to one end and helped Elle lay the suit out on the table.
“Aldebaran. How’d you get this?”
“Just a minute,” Court interjected. “Can we back up a few steps?”
“I’m sorry,” Britt said. “Court’s right. Introductions are in order. Everyone knows me already. I used to be a professor here at the University of Toronto. For the last ten years or so, I’ve been a broker, getting supplies from Earth to the ships that hold people sent off planet during the expulsions. Bear, Wilm, and Ainsley help with that.”
Elle looked to Ursula. “And you’re obviously more than just the head of security here.”
“That’s my official job, but it’s not all I do.”
“And who were the men who attacked us?”
“We’re not entirely sure,” Wilm said. “They’re state security of some sort but beyond that, we’ll need to ask around.”
The introductions hadn’t told Court anything useful. Knowing their names didn’t mean he knew them, but he didn’t have any alternatives. They’d narrowly survived an assault from government gunmen. They had nowhere to go and even if they did, how would they get there safely? Elle, at least, seemed satisfied for the moment.
My job was to make sure she got here alive, and she’s here. The thought triggered a wave of guilt for her cuts and bruises that were swollen and seemed to be turning more purple with each passing minute. She was alive but they’d had some close calls.
“And who are you two really?” Ursula asked.
Court and Elle shared the sequence of events that had brought them to Britt.
“Where did this happen? I’m surprised I haven’t heard any rumors about it.”
“It was out east,” Britt said.
“There were almost two hundred people there,” Elle said. “It was awful. Whatever made Dr. Donovan leave, it’s important. A lot of people have died because of it.”
“Which brings us to this suit. We need to find what secrets it’s hiding.” Britt ran her hand along the suit as she spoke. “Pilots wore A2 jackets in the 20th century. They often had maps sewn into them. The map helped them find their way to safety if they were shot down in dangerous territory.”
“There’s a map hidden in the suit?” Court asked.
“Maybe not a map but something. That’s my hypothesis.”
Ursula leaned in to examine the suit. Wilm and Elle did as well. Court watched and felt useless with his lack of knowledge of all but the most rudimentary technology.
After several rounds of examination, they had made no progress.
“What about the helmet?” Ursula asked. “Does it have a HUD?”
“A what?”
“A heads up display.”
“Oh, yes, but only with basic information like temperatures and battery level.”
“What about a hidden menu?”
CHAPTER 39: ELLE
Elle put on the helmet and the screen inside lit up.
“What do you see?” Britt asked.
“It says the power is at sixty-four percent, the air temperature is 20.4 degrees Celsius, and the suit is inactive.”
“There must be something else,” Ursula said. “Can you operate it with eye movements?”
“The controls are on the sleeve.”
Elle felt someone pushing the suit into her arms and guiding her hand to the control pad. She tried swiping her finger in the pattern for activating the suit and the screen displayed a warning message.
“Suit and helmet not attached,” she read aloud. “That didn’t work.”
She drew the deactivation pattern and saw another warning message. Then the screen changed.
“It’s asking me if I want to access the help menu.” She tapped twice for yes and a set of topics appeared on screen. “There’s an option for a tour.”
“That must be the right one,” Britt said. Elle was sure she heard excitement in the older woman’s voice.
Elle swiped and tapped. The screen showed an outline of the suit with red dots. As she swiped, a different dot would pulse from light to dark. When she tapped, a box appeared with details about a feature.
“I don’t understand,” she said as she selected the last pulsing dot. “The tour’s a dead end.”
Elle tapped to clear the final pop up and a red dot appeared next to the helmet on the screen. She selected the new dot. The box that appeared asked a question.
What is your designation? -CD
There was no obvious way to enter an answer—no on-screen keyboard display, no buttons or menus she could select. But she was on the right path. CD for Clint Donovan. The answer was her designation from Aldebaran, the dehumanizing identification number they’d given her. One higher than the person before. One less than the person who’d come after.
“I found something but I don’t understand how to continue.”
The background color of the screen switched to red, and a message appeared along the bottom.
Incorrect or invalid response.
It’s voice controlled, she thought.
“L37,” she whispered.
The background of the screen flashed green, and the message changed again.
“Compartment open,” she read. “It says a compartment is open. Does anyone see a compartment?”
“Yes, we see it.” This time the excitement in Britt’s voice was undeniable. “Wonderful work, Elle. Just stay still for a moment while we look.”
She felt people brushing up against her and the screen snapped back to its original display.
Elle removed the helmet, and Britt showed her a foam block, no bigger than a fingernail, in which a miniature capsule was embedded.
“Another data vault,” Elle said. “Isn’t it? It looks just like the scans from Dr. Donovan’s leg.”
Britt turned the block over in her palm and showed Elle the bottom on which “A2” was hand-written in silver.
“Do you have a way to read the data?” Elle asked.
“I have no idea,” Britt said. “I don’t even know what this is.”
“There was an Aldebaran data vault embedded in Dr. Donovan’s bone when he died. Marsh found someone who could read it. This might be the same thing.”
“Give it to me,” Ursula said.
CHAPTER 40: BRITT
Britt cocked her head to the side and considered Ursula for a moment. They didn’t know each other, not really. But people she trusted trusted Ursula. That would have to be good enough. She dropped the foam block into the open palm of the younger woman.
Ursula looked through the collection of devices on the table until she found one that seemed to satisfy her. It was a mid-size tablet, maybe nine or ten inches along the diagonal. When Ursula turned it on, a stylized letter A glowed on the screen.
Britt recognized it as the Aldebaran logo.
“Is that—” she started to ask.
Ursula interrupted her. “An Aldebaran tablet, yes. Someone bartered it for old university equipment. It’s not connected to the network and no wireless signals can get out of this room. Don’t worry, it’s safe.”
“Why do you have it?” Bear asked.
“I just told you.”
“I mean why do you personally have it. In fact, why do you have so many tablets and devices here?”
“It’s a complicated story but the short version is that Maud upstairs runs what’s left of the university. She has a lot of discretion over what gets sold off and what constitutes valid payment. Occasionally, she accepts barters and I take them from her as wages instead of qynars. It’s a convenient way to accumulate some much needed tech discreetly.”
“Much needed for w
hat?” Wilm asked. “And how do you eat if you keep taking tablets instead of money?”
Ursula gave Britt a confused look.
“I didn’t tell them anything about your operation.”
“Wow, you all are a trusting bunch to come here blind.”
“We trust Britt,” Bear said.
“Well, let’s just say that running security here isn’t my main source of income and the tech comes in handy. Such as right now.”
She set the foam block on the bottom of the tablet with the data vault facing down. The tablet screen came to life.
“It wants a password.”
Britt saw from the looks on Elle’s and Court’s faces that they didn’t have the password, or at least didn’t know that they had it.
“Well?” Ursula asked.
“We don’t know,” Elle said.
“The first data vault needed the lyrics to an entire song to get into it.”
“Try L37,” Elle said. “That was how I unlocked the suit.”
Ursula tried it but the tablet screen flashed red and displayed a new message: Failed attempt 1 of 5. After 5 failed attempts, the vault will lock for 24 hours. Hint: Stickiest place for a concert.
“What’s L37?” Court asked.
“Let’s talk about it later.”
Britt could see in the girl’s face that a lot of secrets were hidden behind that deferral. She wondered if it was obvious to Court. She didn’t get the impression that these two knew each other all that well considering what they’d been through together.
“Only four more guesses,” Ursula said. “Anyone know the stickiest place for a concert?”
Britt laughed and warm memories bubbled up, memories from a happier time, before life got complicated—memories of cold beers on sidewalk patios during humid summer evenings; the smell of greasy food, everything fried, golden, delicious, bad for everyone’s health; and the laughter, which was most definitely good for their health.
“The Horseshoe Tavern,” she said. “I haven’t thought of that place in ages. It’s not even very far from here, or it used to be. It must be long closed by now.”
Watching over Ursula’s shoulder, Wilm said, “That worked.”
Bear and Wilm squeezed against Britt’s left side while Elle and Court pressed in on her right, everyone trying to get a look at what secrets the data vault revealed.
Ursula snapped at them. “Alright, everyone just back up a step. Personal boundaries, people. Ever heard of them?” She slid her seat back and offered it to Britt. “Here, you can drive.”
A wordless look from Elle told Britt that she approved.
It took a minute for Britt to orient herself with the structure of the data vault’s contents, but she found a partition labeled NORA, and in that partition was a video titled Nora Overview.
Elle gasped when Clint’s face appeared on the screen.
“Nora, greetings my dear friend. It has been far too long. I’ve been telling myself for years that I should come visit you, but I don’t need to tell you how hard that type of travel is these days. And now, if you’re watching this video, it means something has happened to me and it’s too late.”
He hesitated for a few seconds, presumably to keep his emotions from getting away from him. Britt felt a tingle in her left eye, an early warning sign of her own tears threatening to spill out without much further provocation. Britt preferred to maintain a strong facade, so she was relieved when Clint jumped straight to the point.
“But there are bigger issues at play. The Qyntarak are moving to strip humanity of our remaining freedoms and many of our rights. I have cultivated friendships and forged alliances with a number of influential Qyntarak who oppose these changes. This data vault contains interview notes, transcripts of Qyntarak leadership meetings, and drafts of legislation going before the Akarrak. The end result is bleak.
“The new laws will allow for ownership of humans, which I realize is not a new idea on our planet. In the latest proposals I’ve seen, creditors would be allowed to make a claim for the offspring of a debtor if an adjudicator rules that the debtor’s lifetime earning potential makes them a high risk for default.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with the increasing debt load of most humans. The Qyntarak are ruthless and greedy. Large syndicates have the majority of humans on and off Earth buried under inescapable debt loads. The statistical models presented to the Akarrak predict that three-quarters of humanity will be owned within three generations.
“Once that many of our kind are property instead of free people, we will have lost the ability to resist politically or economically. We will have sold ourselves to the Qyntarak. And then…”
Clint’s voice cracked and the video glitched. The lighting was different after the glitch and Clint’s red-rimmed eyes were puffy. He had stopped the recording to cry.
“Sorry about that. It’s hard not to get emotional about this. As I was saying, once Qyntarak own our future generations, we will be powerless to stop what comes next. Most of the Akarrak council members are in the pocket of one or more of the syndicates, and a couple of the syndicates are keenly interested in a new export business. They want to ship humans to their home world and colony planets where we can be sold as food.”
There was another long pause. The video didn’t glitch. A single tear ran down Clint’s cheek.
“Although it’s rare and still illegal, some of them already eat human meat and consider it a delicacy. They believe they can create a profitable market for humans as food on their planet. One of my allies claims that a motivation for funding the expulsions was to create the need for a research program to identify potential issues for humans during multi-year space travel.”
Britt paused the video because the tablet’s little speakers could not compete with the string of profanities coming from Bear. He pounded his fists on the table.
“No. No, no, no. We’re a sentient species. They can’t just start eating us. That’s got to violate some universal law or something.”
Britt snapped at him, “Bear, calm down. We need to finish listening to Clint first then we’ll be outraged and decide what to do next.”
Bear grunted and shrunk back at the rebuke. The two of them had been working together for years. Britt rarely saw him lose his cool like that so she knew he was shaken. Hell, she was shaken.
She resumed the playback.
“But all is not lost. Not yet. That’s why I need your help, Nora. In addition to the evidence, this data vault holds a wealth of technical specifications and data that, if placed in the right hands, can be used to fight back and to reclaim our planet.”
Clint seemed to sit up straighter in his seat when he said that last part.
“First,” he continued, “is all the information I could gather about human health and survival in space. The Rohindian Virus is a red herring. The Qyntarak designed it to keep humans weak and afraid. They sell expensive antiviral medication to ensure the people on those ships stay in debt so they can be controlled. An inoculation formula and procedures for low-radiation treatment are on the data vault.
“Second, are all the instructions for commandeering those ships and returning them to Earth, including navigational data and landing procedures. With the right leadership and organization, humans can take control of the red ships and bring our people home.
“Third, are technical specifications for creating and controlling the temporary black holes that the Qyntarak use as weapons. With this technology, humanity will be able to defend itself .
“Finally, there are instructions for communicating with the Qyntarak home world. My sources here tell me that the behavior of the Qyntarak on Earth is not consistent with the philosophies and lifestyles of most Qyntarak. Like humans, they have many factions and ideologies in a constant struggle for dominance. Being spread out over several planets and moons exacerbates the problem, making it that much harder to find a unified position on almost anything. Sending word about how humans—and Earth—are being m
istreated may gain us sympathy from other Qyntarak, maybe even leading to assistance or at least their refusal to support or buy exports from the ones who are here now.
“Everything included on this data vault is the culmination of years of earning the trust and confidence of several influential Qyntarak, including some on the Akarrak. Leaving with this data will burn all my bridges. The Qyntarak will be suspicious of anyone who’s ever been associated with me. My allies will need to bury their human sympathies and will be unlikely to risk further assistance. This is a one time opportunity.
“Nora, I am begging you to please help see this through. I know you have connections with the Reclamation movement and the means to smuggle contraband into space. Please, old friend, help save humanity.”
The recording went black then stopped. No one in the room spoke.
After a long minute, Bear said, “Drive out a technologically superior alien species and save humanity. He doesn’t ask for much, does he?”
CHAPTER 41: BRITT
“If this is true,” Ursula said, locking eyes with Britt, “then it’s a game changer.”
Britt wasn’t sure she could speak without her voice cracking. She rested her chin on steepled fingers to look contemplative while she bought herself time to get control over the quaver she felt in her throat.
“The Qyntarak designed the virus?” Bear said. “And they have a vaccine while we’re struggling to sneak antivirals into supply shipments to keep people from dying? That’s…”
“Immoral?” Wilm offered. “Criminal?”
“Yes, both of those.”
“I agree,” Britt said. “And I, for one, am going to do something about it. But I won’t presume to make that choice for the rest of you. If anyone wants out, now’s the time to say so.”
She searched the faces in the room, taking in their expressions. Mostly, she saw resolve and anger. Court looked like he might shit in his pants.
“My wife is out there on one of those ships,” Bear said. “You know I’m all the way in.”
Elle said, “I trust Dr. Donovan, and this is what he believed is best.”