Mrs. Pritchard nodded, plainly unable to force speech from her throat.
“We’ll let ourselves out, Mrs. Pritchard,” Kemp said. Without another word, they retreated for the door.
Vessel Released
Moore leaned back in his chair and tossed the tablet onto his desk. A nuclear detonation in the environs of the Earth/Moon system was, not surprisingly, the hottest news topic of the last forty-eight hours. Virtually every news channel was running it, all using the same two or three short video clips, likely taken by amateur astronomers. He’d filed his report immediately, which would hopefully forestall panicked demands for information from HQ. No way to keep it hidden. Nor would it be good strategy to act embarrassed about the action. A forthright, self-confident statement was the way to go. Let the nay-sayers do the work.
And, of course, the SSE had gone completely ballistic, alternately demanding an explanation and declaring any explanation a priori to be propaganda. They were also suggesting that it was a ploy to keep the alien technology from them, a petulant reaction to not being able to extract said alien technology, and a result of mishandling the alien technology.
All at the same time.
Which would all be nothing more than fodder for the ever-hungry media, except that the SSE was also making threats again. The one that worried Moore the most was their stated intention to come to Lagrange Four again for an “inspection”. The Sino-Soviet Empire was always balanced on the balls of its metaphorical feet, ready to be loudly offended, suspicious or aggrieved. The blustering and chest-thumping were par for the course, but the outright threats were coming more frequently.
Moore considered for a moment, then wrote an order for inspection of all ordnance and weapons systems, as well as a Readiness Audit.
Lt. Bentley placed a document on Moore’s desk. What now? The admiral picked it up and scanned it quickly. “Jennings wants his ship back suddenly?”
“Or maybe he simply doesn’t want to pay us docking fees, sir. You did threaten.”
“The man is a skyrillionaire. I doubt he’d even notice. More likely he’s concerned about giving us anything at all.” Moore pulled out a pen and signed the document. “Here you go. And good riddance. Is he sending someone up?”
“He said he’d make arrangements. He wasn’t chatty.”
Moore shrugged. At the moment, it was too minor a matter to even show up on his radar.
Nonetheless, when HQ issued a news release detailing the nanite breakout and their subsequent sterilization of the area, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about a shitstorm of trouble from Jennings’s lawyers. The ICDC was now more of a potential threat, and the Little Rock angle wouldn’t mean anything to them. They would ask hard questions, and would recognize bull. Any explanation had to be believable.
Moore had made some calls to old friends, hoping to get a muzzle on the ICDC, but his contacts really weren’t in the direct chain of command required to be effective. They might be able to slow things down though.
At least without the Astra sitting here, they wouldn’t be able to play the “holding assets hostage” card. Moore smiled. Jennings may have made a small tactical error there. Or maybe he was just being petulant.
No matter. One less thing to worry about. With a grunt of disdain, Admiral Moore pulled the next item from his in-basket. Bureaucracy. Turned out there was a hell, and it was behind a desk.
An Unexpected Call
“Hi, Doc.”
Kemp staggered and had to sit down before he could respond. He held the phone in front of him and stared at it for a moment before putting it back to his ear. “Ivan? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
“Reports of my death are greatly exaggerated, as it turns out.”
Kemp wiped his forehead with one hand. “Dr. Narang at the ICDC is pushing for a governmental inquiry. Should I assume that the Navy actually does think you’re dead?”
“That’s right. I got out of the module before they blew it up. Hitched a ride back to the base with them, as a matter of fact.”
Kemp chuckled. “So what’s your plan?”
“Well, Captain Jennings has instructed the Navy to release his ship, and he will have it flown to a public docking facility.”
“That’s a surprise. I talk to the captain almost every day, and he didn’t mention it.”
“Well, he doesn’t know about it.” Ivan was silent for a moment, then Captain Jennings’s voice came over the phone. “And the captain has a memorable voice.”
Kemp sat silently, his mouth opening and closing. Finally, he found his voice. “Wow. That was pretty convincing.”
“And the captain has a personal phone line on the Astra which is tied to his home account. So the caller ID would be correct, as well. I suspect that Admiral Moore was happy to be rid of the headache.”
“So, Ivan, how did you get off the module and into the ferry without being seen?”
“Honestly, Doc, the less you know about that, the better. I’m still having trouble with it, myself.”
“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”
“Oh, hell, no. Nothing like that.”
Kemp heaved a sigh of relief. “Are you still Ivan? I mean, inside?”
“Yeah, Doc. Although I think I mentioned once before that this might be a temporary situation. For the moment, though, I’m still mostly in charge.”
“Getting any more information?”
“Ah, we’re still having trouble with abstract concepts. But I have gotten some stuff.” Ivan hesitated for a moment. “There’s a war going on in the galaxy. Possibly in all galaxies, wherever intelligent life evolves. The beings who made the booby trap want to recruit us. I don’t get the impression that that’s entirely a good thing. But, apparently, the other guys are worse, at least according to the computer. I don’t know if it can lie to me or not. But I’m going along with it, for now.”
Kemp felt a chill. “Will we have a choice?”
“That’s complicated, so of course it’s not coming through very well. I think we have a choice in the same way that you have a choice to swim or not swim if you find yourself in deep water. Not a lot of options.”
“Great.”
Kemp thought about what he’d been told, not speaking for several seconds. Ivan seemed to be content with the silence, or was giving Kemp time to process. Finally, Kemp asked him, “So what’s next?”
“Again, Doc, I think the less I say the better. If they ever come to talk to you, you want plausible deniability. Right now, you’re just talking to a friend you thought was dead.”
Kemp smiled. Fair enough.
“Doc, did you talk to my wife?”
“Yes, Ivan. We were told you were dead, the ICDC and the Navy were going to do the paperwork with that official conclusion. There was no reason to fight it unless we found out new information.”
“I think it’s better that way, Doc. However you juggle the situation, there’s no way for me to go back to my life. It makes sense for me to be dead, and for my family to get on with their lives. At least it’ll be a life with opportunities and a future. That’s the most important thing.”
“I told your wife that’s how you would feel.”
Again, several seconds of silence. “I wish I could still cry. It’s funny, how much of a release that is. But the computer doesn’t seem to approve of strong emotions. I feel almost like I’m on some kind of prescription medication. No real highs, no real lows.”
“Some people would wish for that state, Ivan.”
“They can have it, Doc. It’s overrated.”
They talked a few more minutes, then Ivan promised to phone again to keep Kemp updated. Kemp put down the phone, sat back, and stared out his window at the next building, barely fifty feet away. A small part of his mind noted that he wouldn’t be putting up with that much longer.
The interesting takeaway from the conversation was that the military hadn’t been trying to fake Ivan’s death s
o that they could study him. They’d actually tried to end him. Was that panic, or a cold, rational analysis that Ivan presented a real danger? Kemp admitted to himself that the whole nanite thing, by necessity, included a lot of unknowns and, in fact, unknowables. Was he helping someone who could, in fact, spell doom for humanity?
Kemp shook his head. You had to work with what you knew.
Purchase
“I’d like to buy your ship.” Kemp waited. The silence at the other end of the line was pretty much what he’d expected.
Finally, Captain Jennings said, “Okay. This seems like a significant turnaround from our previous conversation. May I ask why?”
Kemp didn’t want to lie to the captain. He trusted and respected the man far too much. “Sir, I would rather not answer that question, although I will if you push me. I will say, though, that not doing so would place a layer of deniability between you and, uh, recent events. And we did discuss me purchasing your ship several weeks ago. We would both be able to truthfully state that, under oath.”
“Under oath? Charlie, I am severely tempted to push the issue and demand an explanation. But I trust your judgement. Let me ask this: Is there a point, somewhere in the future, where you’ll be able to explain all this?”
“Yes, sir. Pretty sure. It’s just a little, erm, fluid right now.”
“Okay, then.”
Jennings named a price and Kemp’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Captain, you could get more than that at a scrapyard!”
“Placing you in my debt, Doctor. That price plus an eventual explanation.”
“Done. I’ll have the money wired to you immediately. Yes, in advance of the paperwork. I want the audit trail to start right away.”
“Fair enough. Anything else, Doctor?”
“Have you taken possession of your new ship?”
“Yes, since you ask. I’m heading up to give her a shakedown cruise tomorrow.”
“Then I’d like to hire your ship.”
There were several seconds of silence before the captain answered, “You, uh, have a ship. Why do you need mine?”
“To find mine.”
Jennings groaned. “This had better be one doozy of a story, Kemp.”
* * *
Kemp received a call from Dr. Narang, less than an hour after hanging up with the captain.
“I understand you’re going on a little trip,” she said, without preamble.
The doctor stared at the phone for a moment, nonplussed. Then, putting it back to his ear, he said, “Are you spying on me?”
“Everyone who had anything to do with the Pritchard Incident is flagged for travel, and will be for a year. You’ve booked a flight to Olympus Station, and the computer kicked it up to me.”
“Huh. Welcome to 1994.”
“1984! Geez. Amateurs.”
Kemp chuckled. “Okay, so is this an official call of some kind, Dr. Narang?”
“No, Charlie, it isn’t. I was just curious. Anything new on the whole Pritchard thing?”
Well, he’s still alive. Does that count? Kemp thought. He was unsure how much he should tell her. He thought he could trust Maddie, but his recent experiences had left him feeling both paranoid and justified in the feeling.
“I’m going on a cruise with Captain Jennings,” he finally said. “The captain is taking possession of his new ship, and has invited me along. Do you have a few spare days? I’ll spring for the shuttle.”
There was silence on the line as Narang apparently considered his invitation. Then, “You know, that sounds like a great idea. I’ll meet you at Olympus Station.”
* * *
One day later, Kemp was on Olympus Station. He stood up as Dr. Narang walked up to his table, a cup in her hand and the distinctive aroma of tea preceding her.
Without preamble, Narang said to him, “I’ve been second-guessing myself all night. It sounded like you were trying to send a message on the phone, but when I go over your actual words in my head, they sound completely innocent. Am I on a wild goose chase?”
Kemp grinned at her. “No, as it turns out. I was trying to be mysterious, all the while wondering if I was being over-the-top paranoid. The whole cloak-and-dagger thing has me out of my depth.”
“I, uh, I understand you are now the proud owner of a slightly used mining ship.” She gave him a sideways look. “Heading up to claim it?”
“Mm, yep, I am the owner of the Mad Astra. And I guess I am hoping to claim it, but first I have to find it.”
Narang’s eyes went round. “It’s not at the Navy base?”
“No. Apparently, Ivan is now a space pirate.”
Narang stared at Kemp silently for several seconds, her jaw in danger of unhinging. “Explain, please.”
“As Ivan put it, reports of his death are greatly exaggerated. He escaped the module, stole the Astra, and made off for parts unknown.”
“That poor man. All of this, just because he reached for an artifact.”
They both nodded, sharing a moment of commiseration for the absent space pirate.
Narang stared searchingly at Kemp’s face. “By the way, if he’s taken off for parts unknown, where exactly are you going to go looking for him?”
“It’s a long shot…”
Narang made an on with it motion with her hand.
“Ivan mentioned a recurring image of a bear cub early on, when he’d first finished his transformation. He reminded me of it later, without specifically mentioning details.”
“Red flag, that.”
“Yep. Meant it was important, and he didn’t want any listeners at his end to know. The image was of a bear cub, like I said.”
“A bear cub?” Narang looked perplexed.
“Um. A minor ursa.”
Narang started to laugh. “Ursa Minor? The Little Dipper? It was referring to the constellation?”
“Yes. I think that’s where the computer wants him to direct his communications.”
“Wait, what? Communications? Charlie, you need to back up a few steps.”
Kemp gave Narang an apologetic smile. “Yeah, uh, Ivan is sharing his head with a computer of alien origin, which wants to communicate with its makers somehow.”
“But which star?”
Kemp shrugged. “I don’t think it matters. Or maybe he’ll know more when he’s able to transmit. But in any case, most of them are more than a hundred light years away. This won’t be a quick conversation.”
“Mm.” She thought for a moment. “I guess he can just beam a message to each star in that general direction, then start listening at the appropriate round trip time.”
“Yes. Ivan mentioned at one point that the Makers are very patient. If they’re like Ivan, well, I doubt lifespan is an issue. How long did the nanites live, waiting in the artifact for someone to come along? What does patient mean when you’re immortal, anyway?”
* * *
Money might be the root of all evil—oh, wait, no, it was the love of money. Kemp shook his head, trying to get his thoughts organized. Big mistake, in free fall, even for a veteran of space travel. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the nausea to subside.
But anyway… Based on the offer of a suitable gratuity, the ferry pilot had found it within himself to allow Kemp and Narang to sit in the cramped bridge for the short trip to the Getting Ahead. Jennings’s new ship loomed large in the forward viewport as they approached.
“It’s a beaut!” Narang breathed.
“Sure is!” the pilot enthused. “Looks modified as well. The standard BG-4502 has smaller nacelles. I’m pretty sure this one’s been souped up, maybe with 4600-series parts. The owner seems to know what he’s doing.”
Kemp grinned. “I would have to agree.”
The ferry sidled up and connected to the vessel’s airlock. After completing the transaction with the pilot, Kemp and Narang exited the ferry.
Captain Jennings was waiting on the other side of the boa
rding connection. He beamed at them, obviously proud to bursting of his new ship. The captain promised a full tour as soon as the ship was underway. Given the destination, though, the sooner they departed the better.
A surprise awaited them when they got to the bridge. Lita Generus swiveled around in the pilot’s chair and gave everyone a sloppy salute.
It meant nothing to Narang, of course. But Kemp grinned at Generus. “Did the captain shanghai you?”
She returned the smile and shook her head. “News travels. I heard about Ivan. When I phoned Captain Jennings to talk about it, he informed me that things weren’t completely cut-and-dry. So I re-upped.”
Jennings gave his normal, closed-lipped smile, barely visible under his moustache. “Of course, it’s not a tour as such, but we will be spaceside for a while, and possibly outsystem.”
“Er, what?” Narang looked concerned.
“Outside of the Earth/Moon system,” Kemp said in an aside. “Not outside the solar system. The ship isn’t that good.”
“You might be surprised, Doctor,” the captain said, cryptically. “For the moment, if everyone would grab a seat…”
They took seats in the bridge, after promising not to touch any controls.
Kemp looked around at the impressive array of stations, consoles, panels, and monitors. “You can run this with just the two of you?”
Jennings nodded. “I could run the Getting Ahead by myself. I would never think to do so on an actual mining tour, of course. But the A.I. in the new BG series vessels can, in principle, fly the ship with no human oversight, even follow a specified flight plan with scheduled stops.”
The captain tapped his forehead. “Speaking of which, I’m going to give all of you voice authority for the duration of the voyage. Single points of failure, and all that. I think you’re right, Dr. Kemp, that paranoia is rubbing off on all of us.”
Narang laughed. “It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.”
* * *
“One of the big advantages of the new series long haul vessel,” Captain Jennings said as they moved into the hab ring, “is that you don’t have to spin down the hab ring when you want to maneuver. They specify a maximum maneuvering torque, and it’s pretty light, but unless you’re dodging something, how fast do you really have to change direction?”
The Singularity Trap Page 23