by Darren Beyer
Catching it with her good arm, Mandi wrinkled her nose. The shirt was damp and smelled as though it had sat too long in the sun at a beach. Fumbling awkwardly with one arm, she struggled to find the vest pocket. It was empty.
“There was a data chip in here.” Any fear she’d had was replaced with fury. “Where is it?”
“You’ve got what I’ve got.” The man picked up the rest of Mandi’s clothes and tossed them at her.
“Bullshit. You took it from me.”
“Look Ms. Nkosi—” He narrowed his dark eyes. “I didn’t do anything but get you out of a situation that was about to cost you your life. Please don’t make me regret it.”
Mandi flicked her eyes to her comm, but it was either out of power or out of range. She struggled to slide her legs off the bed, wincing at the pain in her arm and chest. Trying to stand only made the pain worse.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“First I’m getting dressed.” Mandi draped her shirt over her head to push her good arm through the sleeve and her head through the neck hole. “I’m going to a hospital. Then I’m getting another copy of that data chip.”
“You’re staying right here.”
“I’m not taking orders!” Mandi glanced at the pistol, then at the man’s stern face. Trepidation made her pause.
He sighed, and his face softened. He crossed again to the holovid, navigated the ‘net to “Florida news” and selected a story.
A picture of her pudgy engineer appeared unexpectedly next to the anchor.
“Early this afternoon on a remote stretch of beach north of Cape Canaveral, Merritt Island resident David Crance was found dead of multiple stab wounds.”
Mandi’s mouth dropped open.
The picture of the engineer was replaced by an unflattering headshot of her.
“Police are searching for Mandisa Nkosi of Washington, DC, in connection with the death of Crance. Nkosi was seen fleeing the area in a rental car that crashed through the guardrail of the Cape Canaveral causeway into Canaveral River. She awoke in transport to Canaveral Hospital, attacked the paramedics, and fled the ambulance on foot, according to local authorities. Police consider Nkosi armed and dangerous.”
The man paused the holovid.
Mandi’s heart sank in shock. “I need to call my boss,” she said flatly, staring straight ahead.
“You can’t do that either.” The man sat on the edge of the bed. “You’ve stumbled onto something so important that somebody killed Crance and attempted to kidnap you.” He gestured to the vid. “None of this was spontaneous. That ambulance was prepped and waiting. And they knew where to find Crance. Unfortunately for them, you escaped, and they’ve been forced to fabricate this story in order to locate you. You work for an international news organization. I’m sure CIS is already at your Washington office waiting for your call. What are your chances once you’re picked up? Either you die in your cell, or you’re shot while attempting to escape. Pick a story.”
“How did you know I work for the media?” Mandi furrowed her brow. “And why are you helping me? How did you just happen to be there?” Her voice rose. “Who are you?”
“My name is Grae.” The olive-skinned man took a deep breath. “Grae Raymus. I work with your mother.”
Chapter 20
Eridani
“Thank you all for attending on such short notice.” Facing the crowd of reporters, the Head of PR at AIC stood in the briefing room, buttoned up and dressed sharply in the latest corporate fashion. She paused for their full attention. “Our CEO will make a brief statement, followed by questions from the press. Please do not ask your question until called upon, and keep it to one question only. Now please allow me to introduce the CEO of Applied Interstellar Corporation, Mr. Jans Mikel.”
Jans nodded from off stage, then walked purposefully to the podium, passing the head of PR with a nod of appreciation. For a moment, he scanned the audience. Whenever he had given a press briefing in the past, Sophia had been somewhere among the reporters so that, if he became flustered or paused searching for an answer, he could seek her out. Her smile—almost imperceptible, always reassuring, with a look of quiet pride—had steadied him. He realized suddenly what he was doing, and a wave of sadness passed over him. He shook it off. From now on, he would stand alone.
“Good afternoon. As I’m sure you all know, the AIC hyperium mining operation on Saturn’s moon of Hyperion has been the topic of much discussion of late, in both the news and halls of government. Key concerns revolve around a perceived monopoly of the rare element hyperium. Our position at AIC has been that this situation is unprecedented in human history and therefore demands a new definition. The High Court ruled that the location of the sole primary source of hyperium on a small, isolated moon creates a ‘natural monopoly.’ It is a definition created by the mining industry itself, which is most efficient—involving the lowest long-run average cost—when production is permanently concentrated through a single source rather than contested competitively, as in this case. However, even though our position was vindicated by the court, the issue has caused a rift between AIC and the very populace and government that it serves. We understand the necessity for good relations with the people and government of the Euramerican Coalition.”
Jans paused, shifted his weight and swallowed.
“Many of you have heard rumors to the effect that AIC will soon part with our hyperium mine on Hyperion. So, I stand before you today to clarify that. I have proposed, and our Board of Directors has tentatively accepted, plans to spin off the Hyperion Mining Operations Division of AIC. The new entity will be a joint venture between AIC and four other companies—to be determined—each holding equal shares and equal sway within the venture. It is our belief that this move is in the best interests of our shareholders, as well as the people and government of the Euramerican Coalition. We will release details as they are finalized. Until then, we look forward to this next chapter of the evolution of AIC, helping humanity explore the stars. The floor is open to questions.”
Hands shot up and voices rang out. Jans pointed to a reporter.
“Thank you, sir. It’s still AIC, one company, controlling the hyperium mining, is that right? How would this solve the monopoly issue?”
“Mining on Hyperion will become a joint venture. While still technically a monopoly—as there is only one primary source of hyperium, and it’s a small facility—this is the best control we can put in place. Having more than one entity mining in competition on a moon the size of Hyperion is simply not practical.”
Jans pointed to another.
“What is the timetable?”
“Nothing happens quickly when your HQ is fifty-seven light-years from Earth.” Jans chuckled, while some of the reporters politely followed suit. “We need to engage prospective members, get Board approval on the exact composition, hammer out legal details—there’s a whole host of steps. We want this to happen quickly, but the truth is that it will take time.”
“It’s no secret that AIC has been under scrutiny on a number of fronts,” called out a reporter. “Is this measure simply a tactic to divert attention?”
“AIC is a publicly traded company.” Jans shook his head. “We are doing what we feel is in the best interests of our shareholders.”
“Even if it means giving up the very thing that put AIC on the map?”
“I would argue this point. Sensor technology put AIC on the map. The discovery of hyperium was a direct result of that technology. Now AIC leads the world in multiple technologies supporting space travel and exploration. These technologies represent the majority of revenues for AIC, and we will continue to lead in the technologies that made AIC a success in the first place. Next question.”
“We have heard of ship losses. Can you confirm the number and disposition of the investigations?”
“We do not comment on ongoing investigations. Next?”
“Assembly Member Hayes has asserted that you may have been complic
it in providing your lost ships to Outer Sphere militants, specifically the Nashira Brigade. He points to your former association with one of its leaders, and alleges current contact.”
“Emphasis on the words ‘alleges’ and ‘former.’ It’s a baseless, preposterous assertion.” Jans grew heated. “The ship losses are under investigation. I cannot comment at this time.”
“Some make a connection between the Alexandria terror plot and AIC. Comment?”
Sophia, I need you with me.
Chapter 21
Earth
Mandi’s mind spun. Her mother had left her life more than twenty years earlier and was supposed to be trillions of miles away.
“My meeting, how did you know—” Mandi barely whispered.
“Please, lie back.” Grae lifted her feet back onto the bed and supported her head down to the pillow. “I work for AIC, the same company as your mother. I do—” He paused. “—special work for them.”
Mandi raised a wary eyebrow as Grae straightened.
“I’ve been keeping tabs on one of our competitor’s operations. Your name has become connected to it.”
“Do you mean the engineer, Crance?”
“They knew they had a leak.” Grae nodded. “I’m guessing that they wanted to verify before they—contained it.”
“Wait a minute—” Mandi was suddenly animated. “You caught this connection to me. So you’ve been spying on me as well? For how long?”
“Spying? No,” Grae responded quickly. “I’ve simply kept you on my radar. It’s something I promised your mother. That radar was triggered when it connected with Crance.”
“My mother —”
“Your mother cares about you very much.”
“My mother doesn’t give a shit about me, and if you knew her at all you’d know that. She abandoned me when I needed her, to go fly around the galaxy with Jans Mikel and AIC.”
“I have half a mind to throw you right out that door and let you fend for yourself.” Grae’s lips tightened. “But your mother would kill me.”
“I doubt that,” Mandi shot back. “What are you going to do—keep me trussed up here in the dark?”
“That’s a problem.” Grae took a deep breath. “You’re all over the news now. In any populated area, you’ll get picked up on FR.”
“Facial Recognition?”
Grae gave an affirmative nod. “You’re hot. Toxic hot.” He ran his fingers through his short hair. “This whole thing is a complete mess. I need to be somewhere in three days—somewhere not nearby—and now I’ve got you around my neck.”
“So let me go. I’ll go to the cops or the media. I need to get this story out there and clear my name.”
“With no proof or protection? You wouldn’t last ten minutes. Then the guys in cheap suits and dark glasses would show up.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Mandi.” Grae was angry, the resolve clear in his voice. “I’ve seen firsthand what those people are capable of. That Wukari story you worked on?”
Mandi sat back.
“Did you think it was a tragic mistake? Military contractors gone overboard? I followed that op before it happened. Three people were hiding in Wukari, people they wanted. So they killed hundreds of innocent civilians, devastated a city, and covered it all up as a misunderstanding in order to get them. They have connections in government, military, police, media. For all I know, your boss at GNN is on their payroll. Your story never ran, did it?”
The implication silenced her.
“If you’d fallen on the real story, you wouldn’t even be here. You’re a loose end now, Mandi.” Grae moved to the window, where a line of sunlight bathed his face as he cracked the curtain to look outside. “They don’t like loose ends.”
Mandi sat in awkward silence. She stared forward until he let the curtain fall into place and turned to her. She looked him in the eye.
“I’ve got to get to Andros in the Bahamas the day after tomorrow,” Grae said, letting out a long sigh. “I’ve got a boat chartered and a plane picking me up there and taking me—never mind. It’s taking me to an appointment that I can’t miss.”
“Do I stay in this room until you return?”
“No.” He sat on the bed at her feet. “There’s only one thing to do.” He put his hands up and rubbed his head. “As much as I hate saying this, you’ve got to come with me.”
Chapter 22
Eridani
“Let’s start from the beginning.” The Headline News Interstellar reporter pushed her brown hair back from a forehead creased with almost imperceptible wrinkles.
“Always a good place.” Jans looked across his desk and returned her smile. His head of PR had told him that this first interview would be the easiest. AIC gave scoops to HNI, who returned the favor through gentle treatment.
“We’re not live here, so we’ll have some latitude to go back, elaborate, do whatever gives us greatest clarity.” The reporter furrowed her brow. “First—all of the excitement surrounding AIC and this announcement is, of course, based on hyperium. Tell us about the discovery of the element. When did you know you had something special?”
“We knew it was special as soon as we detected it. We completed a penetrating scan of Hyperion and detected a large mass signature that we couldn’t match. When we added everything up, the measured mass didn’t equal the calculated mass. That is: the material looked significantly lighter to our mass sensors than it actually was. We had never seen this before. So we knew we had to investigate. We sent a manned mission, and it came back with this.” Jans reached under his seat and brought out a chunk of a copper-gold colored material the size of an apple, which he laid on the desk between them.
“This is the actual first piece of hyperium ever touched by human hands. If I were to measure it with one of our mass sensors, it would have a mass of 1.17 kilograms. If I were to place it on a scale on Earth, it would weigh in at 1.35 kilograms. It has a unique gravimetric property unmatched by any other known material. It was this property that prompted us to conduct our experiments, crossing a wide range of disciplines.”
“Through all this experimentation, you kept its existence secret. Why?”
“Throughout history, alchemists discovering new compounds kept them secret until they understood what they had. Cooks uncovering new spices guarded their recipes closely. Until we knew what we had and its potential uses, we kept our discovery of hyperium in our skunkworks.”
“About that potential—how did you make the leap so quickly from ‘unknown material’ to the enabler of interstellar travel?”
“I wish I could say we’re just that brilliant.” Jans chuckled. “But there was a healthy dose of luck.”
“Let’s talk about that.”
“We first started by trying to isolate the mass sensor discrepancy. We found that whenever hyperium is hit by mass sensor radiation, it generates a signal that significantly dampens the returning radiation. All of the heavier metals exhibit this trait to some extent, but only on the order of point-zero-one to point-zero-three percent. With hyperium it’s more than thirteen percent. That’s a huge difference. What’s more, we found that running an electrical current through it modified the readings based on current and frequency. We started performing all sorts of electrical experiments with hyperium, such as resonant coupling—”
“Resonant coupling?” The reporter creased her forehead.
“Essentially, wireless power. By placing two properly formed coils near each other, you can wirelessly conduct power between them. We made such coils from hyperium, and when we hit a certain combination of frequency, current, and voltage, all hell broke loose. There was an explosion. The lab was a mess, and the coils were all but obliterated. At first, we assumed we’d created an electrical arc between the coils because the video footage showed a massive flash. But then a scientist in an unrelated lab reported a neutrino spike with no identifiable source. The timing of the coil explosion and neutrino detection matched exactly. We re
created the coil experiment, this time with neutrino detectors in the same room and multiple high-quality, high-speed cameras recording. For the briefest of moments—literally less than one-thousandth of a second—the footage showed a dark sphere bathed in a blue-white light. It took a little longer to definitively identify it, but this was the first—actually I guess the second—artificially created wormhole.”
“The first wormhole ever?” The reporter sat back.
“Not exactly. A wormhole is a gravitational feature that connects two points in space-time. Scientists have known for decades that wormholes exist in nature, but each one exists for only nanoseconds.”
“So it must have been staggering to have discovered something out of science fiction.”
“It certainly was.”
“And yet you still kept one of the most—if not the most—important discoveries in human history a secret from the rest of the world.”
“Yes, we did.” Jans paused, treading carefully. “While I always felt a tinge of guilt over keeping the discovery of hyperium secret, in wormhole technology I had no such feelings. As CEO of a publicly traded corporation, my first duty is to my shareholders. Releasing such knowledge early would have had catastrophic consequences. We needed to understand the technology, deduce its uses, and file for the appropriate patents before disclosing it to the world.”
“When did you decide to unveil it to the rest of the world?”
“We concluded very early on that simply creating a wormhole was not enough. We needed to demonstrate some sort of practical use for it, making sure that our science was sound enough to earn protections under the law. Even if we knew exactly how to control wormhole creation, we couldn’t do it on Earth. That would be fruitless. Large masses corrupt wormholes and make them random, unstable. So we put a lab on one of our long-range prospectors and conducted experiments in the far reaches of the solar system.”