Dark as Day

by Charles Sheffield

  “Ganymede? These people are on Ganymede?”

  “They are—right where you’re going to be, a few days from now. But they almost didn’t make it. You’re the System expert on tapping transportation records, so I’ll only give you the bare bones and you can dig out the details for yourself. Sebastian Birch and Janeed Jannex made the trip out aboard the OSL Achilles. When the ship was doing the traditional Jupiter swingby for velocity-shedding, Sebastian Birch took it into his head to go outside—into Jupiter’s upper-level atmosphere. He was working on the hatches when they found him and stopped him. No explanation offered. Are we at four-sigma yet?”

  “At it, and far beyond. Mord, this is extraordinary. What does it signify?”

  “Hey, you’re supposed to tell me. I’m just a high-level Fax, you’re the one with the bulging brow and the monster mind. You ask for oddities, I give you oddities. But don’t ask me to tie this to Nadeen Selassie, or the ‘dark-as-day’ weapon that’s supposed to destroy the solar system. So far as I’m concerned, all we’ve done is find a human being who could have arrived on Earth at the right time, and who happens to have a very peculiar body and brain. Making sense of that is your job, not mine. What’s your explanation?”

  Bat sagged down onto the padded chair, his bulk over-flowing the edges. He rested his elbows on his well-padded chest and cupped his chin in his hands. “It is unnecessary to goad me. I have no explanation, as you smugly realize. Do you have more information?”

  “Not a scrap.”

  “Then we should conclude this meeting. I must think.”

  “Suits me. I don’t want to stay too long, anyway.”

  “My apologies if you are offended. Your presence is normally welcome at any time, but this is an exceptional situation.”

  “Hey, it’s not you I’m worried about. I don’t like to stay any place too long. I said it before, and I’ll say it again: something’s hunting me out there, and it’s closing in on my tail.”

  “Would you prefer to leave the distributed Seine network completely, and reside within the Keep? You will be safe here, and the Keep will maintain its integrity as a protected unit even in my absence.”

  “Nah. I’ve been inside, it’s boring as hell. Out in the Seine it may be risky, but there’s a billion interesting sites to explore. Meantime, so long. I’m out of here. I’ll visit you on Ganymede.”

  Mord nodded, and the image vanished from the display.

  Bat did not move. New information normally served to clarify an issue. In this case, discoveries seemed to add a new layer of confusion.

  True, he now had a name and a place. But if Sebastian Birch were in fact connected to Nadeen Selassie and her lost weapon, that weapon could not be biological since Birch had lived with other humans for more than thirty years and no one had suffered harm. Also, the weapon should not be biological. It was supposed to do more than kill life; it was designed to destroy a whole planet.

  And yet there were the mysterious specks of matter found within Sebastian Birch’s body. If they lacked a biological or chemical action, what remained? Only, perhaps, something in the realm of physics.

  Bat sat motionless as the minutes and hours ticked by. Finally, the time for planned departure from Pandora was only an hour away. He rose, reached forward, and placed a call. After a few seconds, a woman’s sleepy voice said, “Yes?”

  “My apologies for disturbing you. It seems I was given a wrong ID.”

  “Great. It also seems to be the middle of the night.”

  “So it is.” Bat was unfazed. “I am attempting to reach Alex Ligon.”

  “Who is calling?”

  “This is Rustum Battachariya.”

  “Oh. He’s asleep, but I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. Hold on a second.”

  After a few moments, Alex’s voice said, “Huh?” He sounded not only three-quarters asleep, but perplexed.

  “This is Bat. We have not spoken since your visit, but am I to assume that your family is still interested in obtaining the use of Pandora as an operations base within the Saturn system?”

  “Extremely interested. If there are any terms on which an arrangement might be made, we would like to discuss them.” There was an unintelligible mutter of complaint in the background, followed by Alex’s faint, “I know it is, Kate. And I know I promised. But this may be the only chance.”

  Bat cut off the background chit-chat with, “I see possible terms for an arrangement. First, however, a question: does Ligon Industries employ qualified teams of experimental physicists and chemists?”

  “Very much so.” Alex now sounded surprised. “For some of the business ventures that we are in, top-flight research teams are absolutely essential. A project like Starseed-Two would be impossible without them.”

  “Good. That is as I expected. One more question, or more properly a statement: Ligon Industries has ways of obtaining access to facilities and materials that are normally unavailable—do not attempt to deny this, since I already have good evidence of it.”

  “I wasn’t about to deny it. Certain members of my family make it a boast. Is this connected to your previous question?”

  “Very much so. I wish you to obtain access to a set of medical samples taken at a particular place and time, from a particular individual. I would then like a top team of your experimenters to subject those samples to a wide assortment of tests, and to ascertain their properties and behavior. You may tell your family that in return for this favor, I will make Pandora available to Ligon Industries as an operating base for helium-three mining from the Saturn atmosphere. Construction of your base on a part of Pandora far removed from my habitation may begin at once.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Alex was fully awake. “But I need more details. Not just the name of the person and the location of the samples—you have to be more specific about the tests.”

  “I will do my best. However, we float here on a sea of conjecture.” Bat hunched down again on his chair. “Listen closely. I am scheduled to leave Pandora for Ganymede less than one hour from now. We should meet and discuss this matter in more detail, but I do not wish you to await my arrival before beginning.”

  “So this is urgent? You didn’t say that.”

  “I do not know the level of urgency. However, certain recent events fill me with misgivings. Are you ready to record information?”

  “It’s already being done.”

  “Excellent. The medical samples were obtained from an individual named Sebastian Birch. He is presently on Ganymede, and it is possible that Ligon Industries will find it quicker and easier to obtain new samples of what we need from him directly. If not, however, someone must proceed as rapidly as possible to Earth….”

  * * *

  One month ago it would never have occurred to Alex that he could or should request a family meeting. Now he had called for two in two weeks. Beyond that, he had insisted that it take place early in the morning.

  To Prosper Ligon that meant little—he would already have been up and working for hours. Not so for other family members.

  Alex glanced around at the diminished assembly. His mother sat on his left, looking terrible. Her perfect skin had sunk into a network of fine wrinkles, her eyes were bulging and glassy, and an I/V dripped straw-colored fluid into her left forearm. Her apparent age had doubled in a few days. Alex had placed his arm around her when she was trundled into the room, and Lena Ligon’s shoulder felt as fragile as a bird’s wing.

  But at least his mother was alive, and present. Great-aunt Agatha had died three days ago, while Cousin Juliana remained in critical condition. Even now Great-aunt Cora was at her bedside.

  To Alex’s right, Uncle Karolus was hollow-eyed, but beaming across at Lena. No doubt the sight of her gave him happy thoughts of continued problems for Sylva Commensals that overwhelmed any sorrow at the death of his aunt. Tanya and Rezel wore a similar sleepless mask, which Alex suspected was common to him also. He and Kate had worked and played hard last night, then been awa
kened from sound sleep by Bat’s call and unable to drop off again. Hector, across from Rezel, was worst of all. It took more than mere lack of sleep to impose on that Viking vitality such a drawn and dissipated air. News of the family meeting had probably greeted Hector as he staggered home in the early morn.

  Only Prosper Ligon, in position at the far end of the table, remained his usual self. He nodded down to Alex, and said, “This meeting is now in session. It is, I believe, appropriate that you speak first.”

  Alex had made notes from the recording of Bat’s request, then followed Kate’s advice and destroyed them. “If I were going to ask my family to do something illegal,” she had said, “I don’t think I’d want anything down in writing.”

  “It might not be illegal.” But Alex had taken the hint—after making sure that he had the important points committed to memory.

  In fact, what Alex had to say was not complicated. The problem was that, despite a long family history of intrigue, bribery, and corruption, and despite everything that Bat claimed to know for certain concerning Uncle Karolus’ past sins, no one ever spoke of such things openly in family meetings.

  Alex screwed up his courage, took a deep breath, and plunged in. He spoke for five minutes, summarizing Bat’s request and the conditions for his offer. There was total silence while he spoke, and afterwards.

  At last Uncle Karolus said, “Let me get this straight. We obtain these medical samples, and we do these tests. In return, we get to install our Ops Center on Pandora and use it as long as we need it. Right?”

  “Rustum Battachariya assumes that will be for no more than a year. Somehow he knows of the penalty clauses in our contract.”

  “We don’t have to kill anybody, or pay Battachariya some enormous fee?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then I’ll say something I never thought I’d be able to say.” Karolus faced the whole table. “We have Alex coming up with this deal, and Hector all set to tie down Lucy Mobarak. I see hope for the males of the younger generation after all.”

  Alex was not sure he was ready for compliments from Uncle Karolus. He said, “But I don’t know how we’ll obtain the samples. Somebody may have to go to Earth.”

  “When the man himself is here on Ganymede, having another set of tests? Forget about Earth.” Karolus waved a dismissive hand at Alex and turned to the head of the table. “Prosper? If I guarantee that little bit of business, what do you say?”

  Prosper Ligon had been quietly examining his own notes. Finally he nodded. “The matter will, of course, call for a family vote. However, there appears to be a certain serendipity of timing. One of our best physics research teams is available. It has been held in reserve, pending a go-ahead with Saturn operations for Starseed-Two. If the arrangement with the man Battachariya is consummated at once, there will still be an inevitable delay of weeks before the research team is needed. And even if we put our chief scientist, Bengt Suomi, in charge—which I strongly recommend and can arrange—the cost of complying with Battachariya’s request will be negligible. Therefore, I so move.”

  Hector woke from an exhausted trance and said, “Move what?”

  “Uncle Prosper says the Battachariya proposal looks good.” Karolus glanced around the table. “I’ll second. All in favor?”

  The nods were casual and in Lena’s case feeble, but they came from everyone.

  “Carried unanimously.” Karolus stood up. “We need to wrap this up as soon as we can, so we’d better start. Sebastian Birch, right, held in science research quarantine? This shouldn’t take long.”

  “One moment.” Prosper Ligon held up a hand. “Before we adjourn, a moment’s silence for Agatha seems appropriate.”

  “Of course. Respect for the dead.” Karolus sat down.

  After a few seconds he said, “Right,” stood up again, and hurried out. Alex stared after him, then at the people remaining. He reflected that this was his family, his own flesh and blood. But he understood them not at all—and he was not sure that he wanted to.

  27

  Milly Wu paused at the closed door, took a deep breath, and stood up straighter. This is the big-time, lady. Better not blow it. Don’t gush, don’t stammer, don’t drool.

  Within the room beyond, collected in one place for the first time ever, she would find the most cunning and devious minds in the solar system. Here was the cream of the cream, the pick of the Puzzle Network’s Master class.

  Milly had been allowed into that elite group only because Pack Rat had made a special arrangement in return for unspecified future favors. But he had made it clear that she would be a decidedly junior figure, an observer more than a participant. Sit, observe, learn—and keep quiet.

  She wished that Jack Beston were here with her to provide his own gruff form of reassurance. He had promised to come to Ganymede as soon as he had the Argus Station’s own interpretation effort up and running, but that was poor consolation. Milly needed him now, as she prepared to open the door and face the legends of her adolescence. Pack Rat had named some of the people assembled to work on the SETI signal interpretation: Claudius, The Joker, Torquemada, Attoboy, Sneak Attack, Ghost Boy, plus Megachirops, the Great Bat himself. Milly had struggled with—and failed to solve—problems set by every one of them. Her own best efforts, posted on the Network under her chosen name, Atropos, had never remained unsolved for longer than a day.

  That doesn’t matter. This isn’t a level playing field. I found the signal and I’ve thought about nothing else since the day I discovered it. Get in there.

  Milly slid open the door and stepped through into the room. She was not sure what to expect. A bunch of freaks, who hid in the Puzzle Network because they were poorly equipped to cope with the rest of life? She had heard that view often enough—mainly from her own family, when they realized that she was fascinated by abstract challenges. “Why bother with such nonsense? You don’t need to think. You’re an attractive girl, you’ll get boyfriends and a husband easy enough.”

  The single exception was Uncle Edgar, gently persuading Milly of her talents and coaxing her to stretch herself to the limit.

  Or beyond.

  Like now.

  Milly stood at one end of a narrow corridor, twenty or thirty paces long. The floor was a sound-deadening thick carpet, while sound-absorbing tiles covered the walls and ceiling. Painted blue doors, three meters apart, were set into the walls on both sides. Every door except one was closed. Before the first one, close to Milly’s right hand, sat an illuminated sign.

  At the top, in flashing red, she read the words: SILENCE, PLEASE.

  Below in smaller letters came a list of names and matching room numbers. Milly saw ATROPOS: CUBICLE 12, two-thirds of the way down. She recognized about half of the names on the list. Next to each one was a small flashing icon that read PRESENT OR ABSENT. Almost everyone was here. At the bottom of the list, again as a bold flashing sign: RESPECT INDIVIDUAL PRIVACY. THE PRESENCE OF ANOTHER NETWORK MEMBER IS NOT AN INVITATION TO INTRUDE. DO NOT INVADE ANOTHER’S WORK SPACE. PROGRESS REVIEW MEETING IN THE CONFERENCE ROOM, 7.00–7.50.

  With this for a greeting it did not surprise Milly to find no one in sight. She crept along the corridor toward Cubicle 12. On the way she had to pass one open door, that of Cubicle 7. The intimidating signs at the main entrance had made it clear that she ought to ignore whatever or whoever was inside, but her own curiosity was so great that she could not resist a sideways peek.

  The layout of furniture in the little room was familiar. The table, console, terminal, and numerous display units were like those at the analysis stations on the Argus Project. The added feature, of a stand loaded with food and drink, made excellent sense. Milly was often so absorbed that she worked on long after she should have taken a break, to the benefit of neither her body nor her mental efficiency.

  The room’s fixtures, however, were not its most important feature. Someone was in the room—a man, sitting with his chair swung to face away from the desk and console a
nd staring out of the open door.

  Despite the instructions at the entrance of the room, Milly could not just ignore the occupant. The man was looking right at her, and he was smiling.

  “Keep going if you want to,” he said. “Or come on in.”

  Milly, disconcerted, did neither. She stopped walking and turned to face him. The man was in his fifties, deep-chested and strongly-built. Although his eyes were pale and hard to read behind prominent brow ridges, his whole person seemed to exude warmth and empathy.

  “Are you with the Puzzle Network?” Milly asked at last.

  “I am.”

  “The sign says that this cubicle is for Torquemada.” Milly stopped short of expressing her conviction that it couldn’t be true. In the past she had struggled for weeks with Torquemada’s brain-bending problems, and in her imagination the torturer was a gaunt, robed figure with spidery fingers, peering in the flame-lit dungeon at his racked victim.

  The tone in her voice must have betrayed her doubts, but the man just grinned. “That’s right. I’m Torquemada. I shouldn’t really be here at all—I’m busy on a dozen other problems, and I don’t have time to pull my weight. But I couldn’t resist coming in for awhile to kibitz. There never was a challenge like this one. Now, how about you? Are you with the Puzzle Network?”

  “I guess so.” It was a weak answer, delivered in a weak voice. In spite of the warning sign at the entrance, Milly spoke more loudly. “My Network name is Atropos. I’m very junior, though, and quite unknown.”

  “Not to me. Atropos was a three-time Junior Champion. Aren’t you also Milly Wu?”

  “Yes. How did you know that?”

  “Because I’m not blind and deaf. Your image has been all over the Ganymede blurts for weeks. You discovered the Wu-Beston anomaly. That’s the reason everybody is here today.”

  Milly glanced up and down the corridor. “The most invisible everybodies I’ve ever seen.”