Alien Cradle

by Jeff Inlo

  The Fenrite experiment ended.

  19

  The pistol rested within the coordinator’s reach, but completely out of the doctor's sight. They sat alone, in Sinclair's office. She rattled off the achievements of the Fenrite Discovery Council as she browsed through the notes of her own portable. He sat quiet with his hands folded before him.

  He already knew everything she was spouting, knew that she was simply crowing like some beauty contestant that who just won first prize. He let her continue. If she wanted to give her own eulogy, he wouldn't spoil it.

  "A research ship is now in orbit at Fenrir." she said. "We have landing teams moving back and forth from the surface to orbital labs in successive rotations. There is no apparent risk from the virus. It was designed to attack cold-blooded creatures and it remains in its original form, no mutations. Techs and researchers are going through all of the Fenrite labs even as we speak. Some of the findings are quite remarkable.

  "We've found out everything we could from the moon biosphere. I have researchers sifting through the details, but there was no need to keep the remnants of the colony intact. We've shut it down and removed all traces. The only thing left is the data at EMOF. That will remain as the center for further study, but no one else will ever now just how close a Fenrite colony was to earth.

  "Even the Authority has become slightly more accessible lately. I think they now understand that the proper elimination of the Fenrites saved them from many unnecessary headaches. They're helping to keep the Fenrir system secure just in case any of these media nuts try to get curious. I doubt there'll be a problem."

  She clicked off her portable with a satisfied thump of her right index finger. Then, she leaned back in her wide chair as if to say See what a good job I did.

  With a nod, she offered her own conclusion. "All in all, it ended surprisingly well, don't you think?"

  "Well," Jack almost stumbled with his words, but he focused on his own considerations and forced a reply, "actually there are some lingering problems."

  Sinclair's brow furrowed, but only slightly. "You worry too much, Jack. Of course there are some things that must be addressed, but that's why I'm leaving the council intact for a while. We'll smooth out the edges and all of that."

  Jack shook his head somberly and Sinclair thought she understood.

  "I know there are some points of true concern," she offered. "Things that may not be as easily solved as I would like, but I don't think they'll become true stumbling blocks. It was a big operation, but the council maintained tight control through it all." She hesitated, but just for a moment. She pulled herself forward, though her heavy frame fought against the attempt. "One thing that remains bothersome is the current situation with an associate council member that has quit. Dr. Farmer left quite unhappily. I loath to discuss it, but I'm not sure I can be certain of his intentions."

  "Small potatoes," Jack dismissed almost unilaterally.

  "Excuse me?" Sinclair's eyes opened just a bit wider. "I know he's handed in all of his notes, but he still knows everything that happened, both on Fenrir and on the moon base. I would hardly consider that kind of person small potatoes."

  Jack huffed a light chuckle. "Do you have any idea just how many people know something or another about this project? If you think Farmer's the only threat, then you really haven't been paying attention."

  The temperature seemed to drop a degree or two as Dr. Sinclair took the remark rather badly. "I've been paying very close attention, especially to security. Everyone that has inside information has been accounted for, unless of course you're referring to Scampion." Here, she did not hesitate, and she placed blame exactly where she felt it belonged. "Need I remind you of who was supposed to resolve that little problem? Hmmm?"

  "No, but I think you need to understand what's really going on here," Jack shot back, answering her coldness with a stern demeanor that seemed out of place on his narrow features. "This isn't just a little puzzle that fell apart and you put back together. There are lasting effects that you're not even considering. The Authority broke ranks. Espial, too. For a while, Regency Govern had absolutely no control over its military or intelligence. Do you understand what that means?"

  "Politics, and I'm not concerned…"

  "Well, you better be concerned," the coordinator rebuffed sternly. "Politics is what this is all about; it's what your council was about. It's maintaining control, giving direction to a society of people spread across a galaxy. It's not some bad word used to shrug off some impropriety. Govern needs to know it maintains control, the public needs to know it maintains control. That's no longer the case."

  Sinclair frowned deeply. "The public has no idea what happened. I think you're just talking about a few bruised egos on the main council. Tell them to grow up."

  The coordinator could not suppress his consternation.

  "A few egos? Hmmmm… I don't think so. Look, do I have to spell this out for you? It's over. There are too many cracks in the wall. It's going to break, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. You've created too many enemies. It's not just Farmer, it's nearly everyone involved in the project. You want an example? How about your liaison? What you did to Skysdale was a real piece of work. I'm sure he's not going to forget this."

  "He won't say anything," Sinclair argued with near disdain. "He knows it'll cost the Authority too much."

  "The Authority itself isn't sure it won't go public," Jack stated somberly. "The rift is there, even if you don't want to see it. This was a bad idea from day one. How it ever got this far is as much a miracle as it is a sin. But one thing's for sure. It's over."

  He pulled the pistol out from behind his suit jacket.

  Dr. Sinclair turned gray, gray like rain clouds in early March. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

  "Trying to make you understand what you're facing... what we're all facing. Regency's ready to crumble unless somebody does something to save it."

  "What… what are you going to do with that?"

  "What needs to be done."

  Sinclair could draw but one conclusion. "Murder? You think murdering me is going to save Regency?!"

  "No, not murder. It's suicide."

  #

  To his own surprise, Rath completed the two runs without incident. Despite the absence of persecution at the Exploratory Council, a shred of paranoia still bit as his consciousness. Each time he launched he thought his ship was going to explode. Every time he was in full push, he waited for the impact of a tracker torpedo. Both times he reached the secluded drop off points; he expected a light cruiser to blow him into space dust. But nothing happened, not when he launched, not while he was in push, and not during his isolated maneuvers in deep space.

  He returned to Janus with his missions complete, both the navigation buoy and the communication booster in place. The freight pads welcomed him with the normalcy he was used to. He looked over his shoulder more out of anxiety than out of expectation, but no one followed. He got on the magnorail alone. He even bought a planetary lottery ticket.

  Again, he ignored the warehouse district. He returned to midtown and the Exploratory Council to acknowledge completion and accept final payment.

  The rep noted there were a few more quick runs in the expired list if he wanted them.

  Rath didn't disappoint the hopeful clerk. He accepted one, but said he wasn't going to launch for a day or two.

  That was fine with the rep. He was simply happy to see another expired bid removed from his backlog.

  Janus was warm that day, and a light breeze kept Rath's spirits fresh. He walked through the streets with a little more kick to his step.

  The small runs weren't so bad. He considered doing more of them. His ship was a scout, but that didn't prevent him from the little odd jobs that no one else seemed to care about. He could handle a dozen or so small excursions in a month, maybe even work with a courier service. They always needed more pilots and ships to deliver finan
cial records and account services. The pay wasn't as good as what he could get from a scout load of emeralds, but he didn't need that much. He had his savings, and he had a new ship. Why bust his hump just for money?

  He looked at his wristband to note the time and he remembered the lottery ticket he had just purchased. The drawing was due. By the time he got to a link, they'd list the numbers.

  A quick lasercable link to a public access and Rath was downloading.

  "Let's see what we got here," he noted with a hint of expectation, a little more optimism than his tone normally allowed. His smile grew as he compared the numbers. He didn't have them all, but he had enough.

  "Seven out of ten. How 'bout that. That's gotta be worth something."

  He ran a quick check to access the payouts.

  "Not bad. I'll take that. Take it any day." He quickly swiped his wristband and the ticket across the public link reader. In less than a minute, the electronic lottery agent deposited new funds into his account.

  #

  The gun felt uncomfortable in Jack's hand, out of place. It wasn't his style, and the way it shook in his long fingers proved it.

  "And it really is suicide," he mumbled. "You killed yourself, but you just don't want to accept it."

  It was hard for Dr. Sinclair to accept anything at that moment. Panic gripped her. She couldn't call out. She couldn't think straight. All she could do was look at Jack and the pistol which remained pointed at her forehead.

  The tension had its own affect on the coordinator as he spoke through a clenched jaw. "Think about it Elizabeth, think about what you've really accomplished. You did all of this for science, for the advancement of knowledge. Nobody doubts that. From the beginning it was clear that you were worried about research failing in some way or another. It failed to find what you were really looking for. It failed to find the alien link you and many others believed was the key to understanding the universe. But when you didn't find it, you panicked."

  "I did what was necessary!" Her voice trembled with obvious fear as she continued to glance back and forth from Jack's face to the barrel of the gun.

  "No, I think you did what you wanted to do, and most of it was unnecessary. I guess it was a grand plan, in scale as well as in content. There was a hint of genius in the unexpected, and you sold it with a savvy that rivaled my own. But where did it get you, where did it get us? The defining lines which kept Regency organized, yet whole, have broken apart. What was once power is now weakness, and we're facing threats from all sides, from blackmailing pirates to renegade generals. Anytime Regency attempts to make a move in the future, this thing's going to rear its ugly head, unless we do something about it now."

  His hand shook a little more as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. He tried once more to steady himself, but the attempt fell short.

  "You're really not going to use that, are you?" The doctor said still gray-faced. Her voice trembled, but she demonstrated a growing alertness to Jack's own discomfort. This, and only this, gave her a shred of hope.

  The coordinator raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to. I don't think I'm going to have to." He pulled a small vial out of his jacket pocket. "I think this will do more appropriately. Cyanide. Still the quickest way to go."

  The gray appeared to strengthen its hold on the doctor once more.

  "I don't expect you're ready just yet to take them on your own," Jack added.

  "What? Are you going to force them down my throat?" The image of the rail-like coordinator forcing anything upon the large framed scientist was more comical than possible, but of course, there was still the matter of the pistol. Sinclair fell back upon other hopes. "There are people outside. If you shoot me or if you try to make me eat those, they'll hear. No one is going to believe this suicide garbage!"

  "I'm not going to force you to take anything. And you're right; I'm not going to shoot you." He slipped the gun back under his lapel. "I brought that along just to get your attention, just to let you know how serious this is."

  The removal of the gun brought a sense of pause, a moment where both the scientist and the coordinator could regroup. Jack spoke up first.

  "As for suicide, I'll let you be the judge of that. I don't think there's much doubt when you look at the whole picture that your real life is over. What is it you care about, Elizabeth? Influence? Control? Knowledge? Research? Power?! Are these the things that drive you, give you a reason to get up in the morning? Well, they're gone." He shook his head once before reciting sanctions in quick succession. "As of this moment, your career is finished. You are no longer a council member. You are no longer a part of Regency Science. Your licenses are revoked. Your privileges canceled. You are no longer permitted to request transcripts from any scientific jurisdiction. Your com clearance is removed. All other councils have already been informed of your disposition. They know that discussing any form of research with you is now a breach of Regency security. But I'm afraid it doesn't end there. You are banned from earth. In fact, you will need special clearance for all shuttle transfers and space flights, and only outer rim planets will allow you landing clearance."

  Jack decided to unveil the full truth. “I doubt you believe me, so go ahead, use your portable, try to gain clearance… for anything. When that doesn’t work use your comlinks. Try to contact anyone. And when you’re finished with that, check your travel clearances, your accounts, and your own personal files, even the encoded ones.”

  The doctor obeyed, not out of respect to the coordinator, but to deny the unspeakable truth. She worked furiously at all the displays before her. Her efforts were fruitless. Passcodes she had buried long ago for emergency accounts were as useless as simple requests for a shuttle transport permit.

  "You can't do this!" the doctor bellowed as if suddenly and viciously impaled with a spear.

  Jack's face grew slightly crimson. "You think this is just me? This is Regency. Council members, generals, coordinators, scientists and researchers; everyone that represents the internal strength of this society. We've only got one route to take on this, one hand to play. This is only the first move, and let me tell you, it's no where near the hardest."

  Sinclair opted for the only response which came to her clouded mind. "I'll reveal everything I know. I'll release my notes and my…"

  "How?" Jack interrupted. "Check your portable. Try to link to the coms. Or are you going to run out of here and go talk to the media. Go ahead. What's it going to get you? You think you're going to get your life back? You're the one responsible for all this, remember? No one's going to forgive you. Actually, if you really want to make a statement, I'll round up the media crews for you. It will make the road ahead a little easier."

  She looked at him with disbelieving eyes. He was bluffing, or so she thought, but then again, maybe not. He seemed ready, even willing, to follow through, as if he wanted her to involve the media. Uncertain of herself, for one of the few times in her life, she said nothing.

  The coordinator exhaled heavily. "You see, it doesn't matter what you do anymore. Your life is over. No one murdered you, you committed suicide."

  He put the pills on the desk in front of her, said nothing more, and left the office.

  #

  "Dr. Farmer, my name is Jack Lasonelli. I used to work as a coordinator between many of the Regency councils."

  Dr. Farmer allowed the stranger to enter his home, even after the admission of working for Regency, but if the scientist was concerned about his own safety, it didn't show. He realized when he walked out on Sinclair that he was doing more than just jeopardizing his career. He really didn't care then, and he certainly didn't appear to care now. Anger served him more than fear the past few days, an anger born out of what Regency did to the Fenrites. He spoke bluntly without considering formalities.

  "Coordinator, huh? Never liked you guys. More like little jackals if you ask me," Framer noted near caustically. "But you said 'used to work'. What does that mean? You quit, take a
different job? Assassin?"

  Jack immediately liked this man. Maybe it was his attitude in the face of very possible danger, maybe it was the way he cut to the chase, or maybe it was the blatant honesty. The coordinator thus answered with a respective, if not courteous, tone.

  "In truth, it means Regency doesn't have cause or need right now for coordinators. There are so many internal struggles and breakdowns that a coordinator can't really help to get anything accomplished."

  "So what are you now, and what do you want with me?"

  "I suppose I'm more of an agent for Regency Govern."

  "You're high up, aren't you," Farmer scoffed. If the mention of the highest council was supposed to impress him, he made it clear that it didn't. "Doesn't make much never mind to me. Regency stinks from top to bottom."

  Jack replied almost humbly, decided to explain his position despite the doctor's opinion. "I was a rather successful coordinator when Regency operated as it should. It allowed me to work with Govern. I guess in that respect, I gained their trust."

  "Well, you don't have mine. I don't care who you work for. You're just another clown to me."

  "I guess that's also true, and since I know of your background, I can even understand it."

  "Buttering me up won't help you, either. So why don't you get to whatever it is you're here for."

  "Fine, I'm here to offer you a seat on the Exploratory Council. Not a subcommittee, not an advisor position or even a temporary seat. I'm here to offer you a permanent seat on the main body, full privileges and fully sanctioned."

  Farmer tilted his head slightly, bore into the stranger's face as if measuring his expression. He accepted the offer as sincere, but he offered his own interpretations as to the worth of such a seat.

  "At one time that would have made me happy, now it just makes me laugh. The councils are a joke. They let this happen, encouraged it. They used science. Used it to create something for their own twisted purposes, and when they were through with it, they just destroyed it. How can I work for something like that?" He eyed the coordinator cynically. "How can anyone work for something like that?"