by Jeff Inlo
"But this colony hasn't seen space craft and nuclear missiles. They won't know how if we don't give them anything to copy."
Sinclair shook her head, slowly enough so the rolls of flesh around her neck actually stayed in place. "I can't take the risk. They discovered too many things that were simply off shoots of cloning technology. They might have developed ships and missiles even if we didn't give them models to work from. One hour."
#
There wasn't much to look at. The trading post had just three freight terminals on the entire planet. Out in space, it wasn't much better. A few orbital control monitors scanned incoming and outgoing ships, but traffic was so sparse it could have all been handled by just one.
When the scout touched down, Rath inspected the meager facilities with poor expectations.
"They're going to charge me a bundle for this," he mumbled to himself. "But it's not like I've got a choice."
He followed the passages to a small office which barely ventilated the smell of prop fuel from the enclosed area. A clean-cut, muscular and tan woman raised an eyebrow.
"Droppin' off or pickin' up?" Her tone revealed she wanted to get back to the fitness center where she worked on her muscles, her tan, or both.
"I need maintenance," Rath mouthed, none to happily.
"Here?" the woman scoffed. "Why don't you just go into Boscon and head over to the Valky system or even Spinster? They have better facilities."
"I don't want to press the engines and take the chance," Rath revealed. "I'm not going to have you do a lot. I just want to make sure the props are in order and have a sweep done for any beacons."
"Beacons?"
Rath exhaled heavily, but came up with a lie that was actually a half-truth. "Yeah, beacons. I got boarded by marauders. I've got no idea what they might have done. I've heard stories of them attaching beacons so they can keep hitting the same ships that they know are easy targets." He said nothing about his concern for other beacons placed by the Authority. Nothing to gain by admitting he was in trouble with everybody.
"That's news to me, but if you want a beacon scan, will give you a beacon scan."
"And check the props. I went into push once without checking to get here; I don't want to risk it again."
"And we'll check the props." The woman whistled happily as she entered the orders into her terminal. She flipped it about for Rath to see. "That'll be the final cost."
Rath swallowed a cough. "Can I use your link to check my account?"
"Sure."
"When were you last updated?"
"A courier dropped off an updated galactic fund feed less than an hour ago. We like to keep that info fresh."
"I'm sure you do."
Rath lasercabled his portable to the terminal and swiped his wristband passed the reader. He nodded happily once he realized his funds were intact. Before breaking the link, he transferred the requested amount to the trading post general fund. It was more than he wanted to pay, more than he should have had to pay, but at least he was beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
#
Researchers at EMOF watched the end with detachment. Those that couldn’t left the observation post on strict orders from Sinclair's council.
The misting occurred through vacuum sealed hatchways across several points of the biosphere, discreet enough so that the Fenrites would not notice the increase in moisture. The virus spread with the utmost efficiency as the Fenrites demonstrated immediate reactions. Agitation appeared almost at the outset, a genuine concern, as if they were aware of the presence of a predator. Most collapsed quickly, their bodies shutting down from the inability to capture external heat. Death was relatively quick and painless.
After monitors and mirror imaging devices surveyed all habitable space and no living Fenrites were found, rats were sent in the sphere to determine if the virus would affect warm-blooded organisms. Tests were already completed in laboratories, but the additional caution seemed appropriate when glancing at the legion of dead Fenrites.
As the rodents displayed no sign of distress, human researchers, although still garbed in bio-protective gear, hunted through the Fenrite corpses for stray survivors. Only one Fenrite demonstrated immunity to the virus. It was summarily executed when it attempted escape. Its body was quickly removed from the sphere, dissected and analyzed for immunity strains.
Several thousand Fenrites died, but the physical proof of their existence—their labs, homes, inventions—remained completely intact for further study. Sinclair marked the test as a complete success.
Farmer had remained to witness the end, only after assuring Sinclair he would not interfere in any way. As the researchers and techs strode about the dead Fenrite bodies, Farmer stepped up to the head council member and placed a sugar-cube sized metallic block on the table next to her.
"That's everything. All my personal files, diaries, and all the records of every EMOF report I kept. That's every bit of notation I have on the Fenrites. I've made no copies. You have it, along with my resignation."
18
"It's a shame," Sinclair stated to the emptiness of her office. "Farmer was right about almost everything. He just couldn't see the end when it was right in his face."
Her portable shimmered like a blinking Christmas tree as she scanned through several reports from the Espial agents, delivered as a courtesy from the Authority. The Fenrite advance was indeed leveling off, the Fenrites themselves turning their attention to their fields and crops. The amount of mining and manufacturing dropped off to near inconsequential levels. Space launches dwindled to a few weather satellites, nothing that could be considered a threat. They made no attempt to strengthen their own defenses as they displayed a complete lack of regard for potential retribution for their attack on the Planning Station.
"I wonder if they actually think they defeated us," she mused. "I doubt it. They must know the fleet is in orbit around their moon. But they seem to act as if the entire incident is finished. Maybe they just can't make the connection between their attack and the arrival of our fleet."
She shook her head and laughed at the irony. It was not a bad assumption, to consider the Fenrites rather dimwitted in certain aspects of intelligence. Creativity and even to a degree inspiration; here the Fenrites demonstrated limitations. They were obsessive in their goal-oriented behavior, but those goals had been given to them by external forces. Their strength resided in what they could copy, and in that, they proved to be the most dangerous foe the Authority ever faced.
That threat, however, was now quickly evaporating. One report after another illuminated her terminal with much less the same status. The Fenrites had reached the end of their accelerated progression, the limit of what they learned from knowledge transplants and observations of Authority weaponry. They were more or less on their own now. They could not depend on a memory implants or a scan of human technology. Invention must come from within, and the true constraints of their intelligence crippled further advancement.
"Farmer hit that one right on the head,” she murmured to herself. “Everything they developed, every technological breakthrough, came about because they drew upon the images we allowed them to retain. They did very little on their own. We gave them the map and they just followed the directions.
"It's a shame we can't let them exist for a while longer. It might be interesting to see how they adapt to a period of stagnation. I wonder if they retain the same global sense of belonging now that they've lost their common objective. Perhaps they might even fight against each other. Even if they didn't, there is still so much to consider. I wonder what would happen if we dropped some ill-conceived contraptions for them to study. Would they duplicate our mistakes as well as our successes?"
Many other questions stirred in the doctor's brain, but an absolute truth put an end to them all. The Authority wanted retribution, to remove the threat that, in all probability, no longer existed. All the politicking in
the galaxy wasn't going to change that. It was over for the Fenrites, and if wasn't on her terms, it would be on the Authority's. The latter would leave little for the researchers to study, so it would be her order, her design.
She considered the existence of her own council. That, too, was probably reaching an end. Once the Fenrites were destroyed, there'd be little use for a council to investigate them. A few minor tasks and responsibilities would certainly be placed in their charge, but it was clean up work and nothing more, better suited for a security council. The important information that could be collected from the Fenrites had already been gathered.
It meant an end to many advantages. The endless resources, the complete power, the security of anonymity; the coming conclusion to this experiment signified a reduction of all those privileges.
But it wasn't the end for her, not anymore. Her council had completed the most important assignments. She had solved the true mystery of the Fenrites, determined how to deal with them, how to prevent future embarrassment. And soon, the Fenrites would be extinct. The end of a chapter, yes, but not to her career. That would continue to prosper.
"Perhaps it is best we end this experiment right here."
#
It actually felt quite refreshing to be back on Janus, almost like returning home. Familiar loading belts and docking rigs welcomed Rath without prejudice, but the scout wondered if some of the people would be as accommodating.
He immediately thought of Lar, about the things he told him. He considered how the middleman might react if Rath revealed what else he learned about the Fenrites, not that he even considered such a discussion. Lar wouldn't want to hear it. Fenrir was a forbidden topic. No, he would leave Lar alone, at least for a while.
He expelled a heavy breath from his lips. Another dangling loose end, but one he just wasn't going to worry about.
But what did that mean for Rath? Forgetting about Lar meant finding a new middleman. That wasn't going to be easy, not on Janus. He could try another planet, but that was the same as starting over.
He slouched as he stepped into a magnorail car. He nearly spit at the brightly colored lottery terminal.
"Not with my luck."
He didn't get off at the warehouse district. He let the magnorail bring him to the central province. He stepped into the local Exploratory office and decided to test the deal set by Angelo. It was a risk, especially so soon after the encounter with the pirate. Word might not have spread, or the coordinator might not have notified all the parties involved. Rath, however, was tired of waiting, tired of running.
He moved directly to the main desk and offered his wristband for a scan. His personal information, including his history with the Authority, and probably with the coordinator as well, would be available for inspection. He was either going to be arrested on the spot, or ignored and treated like just another scout. Whichever, he wanted to know right then and there. No more waiting.
The Exploratory rep acknowledged Rath with a nod as he scanned the information coming to his screen.
No alarms went off and the rep didn't make any sudden calls to the local jurisdiction. Either the clerk was one good actor or nothing out of the ordinary flashed across his terminal.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Scampion?" the rep asked as if talking to a neighbor he didn't see all that often.
"I want to make a quick run, but I haven't had a chance to put together a bid. You got anything on the expired list without any takers?"
The rep nodded. They always liked to reduce the expired bid list. Normally, it included scout runs in systems without planets, orbital scans of gaseous giants where a scout couldn't land, or small errands to drop off space buoys. Most scouts avoided these runs since they couldn't supplement their income with a mineral scavenge. The only thing to be gained was the Regency scout money, and once a bid request hit the expired list, the fee was determined by a set of strict calculations. No bargaining, no perks. It was the kind of run a scout made when he needed to pay off a small debt in a hurry.
"I got a couple of simple runs for systems not too far from here," the rep offered with a hopeful expression. "Scanners have already established that there aren't any planets in either system. Regency wants a navigation buoy set in one and a communication booster in the other. I see from the information on the screen that you're bonded, so you can do either or both, if you want. Small pay, though, it's a short trip in both cases."
"That'll be fine," Rath agreed as he looked at the proposed schedule of payments to his account. It really was nothing but small change, but it'd keep him occupied. "I'll take them both."
The rep transmitted an acceptance to the two requests and happily watched them disappear from the open list. "I can have both the buoy and the booster ready for pick up in an orbital dock in one hour Janus time. Docking station NM-Green. Is your scout large enough to hold both?"
"Yeah, I've got an expanded hold."
"Good for you. It'll save you some fuel money not having to come back to make a second pickup. The pay's the same whether you make one trip or two."
"Thanks." Rath downloaded the job instructions to his portable. He took his time, almost dragging out the wait. He even executed a comparison to make sure the linked files matched, something he never took the time to do before. He afforded a quick glance about the office, but none of the other clerks or administrators seemed to care about his existence. No one from local jurisdiction showed up at the door, and no one tried to stop him when he finally moved to leave. Certainly if there were standing orders for his arrest, he would have seen some kind of activity, but he walked out the door like any other scout.
When returning to the magnorail station, he looked about for anyone following him. He was alone.
He released a tired sigh. "I guess they are going to just let me be."
He took a seat at the station and for the first moment in a very long time, he felt as if the Fenrite burden had finally been removed from his shoulders. A few worries still nibbled at his innards—what he would do, where he would go—but the overall strain finally began to abate. He thought of Angelo and the deal that brought him this peace.
"More power to the pirates of the world. Let them steal the money and let them deal with the stress."
#
Subcommander Skysdale didn't appear very happy, and that fact in itself brightened Dr. Sinclair's day.
"I take it you have seen the report?" She didn't even try to hide the smile. She wanted her glowing countenance transmitted with her words, wanted the subcommander to see her satisfaction. "Have you also heard the Authority and Regency Govern have agreed completely to my proposal?"
"Yeah, I heard," Skysdale fumed. "I also know that Authority command is pissed about your secret council."
"But they did agree to my plan, even though it came from the very same council."
"They agreed because it takes the heat off of them. The whole thing'll just look like a mass epidemic or a result of the nuclear radiation which the public thinks the Fenrites caused themselves."
Dr. Sinclair enjoyed the moment of triumph. "That was the idea. The Fenrites will be gone, the Authority won't have to worry about another attack, the public won't become outraged at possible genocide, and we still get to investigate the planet without sifting through ashes."
Skysdale couldn't let his anger grow anymore if he wanted.
"And you think that's it? There's still a big mess to clean up. Regency and Authority are no where near harmonious. It was pompous and arrogant of you to reveal the council's existence to Command. They didn't have to know. You could have passed your proposal to me or directly to Govern. You just wanted to show up the generals, didn't you? The Authority is still looking for some heads to roll."
Sinclair raised an eyebrow. "Well, why not yours? You were part of this council. I don't remember you refusing or even abdicating your position."
"That's another thing," the subcommander shrieked with obvious resent
ment. "Why'd you have to name me as the council liaison? That was just plain wrong and you know it."
"Not at all. I had to explain the council's knowledge of the situation. Authority Command would have wanted to know how my council received its information. I was duty-bound to tell them."
"Bullshit! You put me in a wringer and you enjoyed doing it. My future with Authority is finished because of that little stunt."
"Ah yes, your future." Sinclair paused to review a prepared electronic message. "I'm forwarding this message to the offices of Regency Govern and Authority Command. As the Fenrite situation is now well in hand, my council is no longer in need of your services. You are dismissed. Good day, subcommander."
#
Fleet General Hollins wasn't thrilled at the prospect. As much as he hated the Fenrites and what they represented, the order before him was no less abhorrent.
It wasn't that he resented wiping out the Fenrites—they were a creation that never should have been—but it was how they were going to do it. Biological weapons held no honor. Yes, he despised the Fenrites, but the foul creation had earned at least a small amount of respect, far more than the eggheads and council members that created them. They had accomplished more than any other enemy of the Authority. Out of that simple fact, the Fenrites deserved a chance to die with respect, a chance to fight for their survival. They would not have it.
The Authority wasn't even going to risk sending ships into the atmosphere. Even now, Artillery Rovers took to a high orbit and prepared to launch canister charges that would detonate in the lower atmosphere. The virus would spread planet wide before Fenrir could complete one full rotation.
The general gave one last look to the drifting hulk of the destroyed Planning Station. Not one survivor had been recovered. He tried to focus on his memories of the soldiers he knew, the ones that had died at the hands of the Fenrites. It was a hollow sensation.
"Order the Rovers to launch all canisters. Let's get this over with as soon as possible. This isn't a job for the Authority, but let's do it right."
#
The creations on Fenrir died just as those upon the moon base. Their hearts slowed, circulation failed to bring oxygen to their brains, and they lost consciousness. They made no attempt to escape in their space crafts. They didn't know where to go. The idea that other planets existed beyond their own was only a faint whisper in their collective memories. They truly only knew their home, and they would die there.