by Tim Waggoner
“See?” Kyoto said.
“As she believes it, that is,” Memory added.
“Thanks for nothing,” Kyoto muttered.
Adams, Mudo, and Kyoto stood in the starship hangar, or rather what was left of it after the Manti attack. Cleanup crews worked on clearing away debris while techs cannibalized damaged ships for whatever parts could be salvaged. Luckily, the Janus had suffered only a few dents and scratches.
Mudo had insisted they meet here because he was making adjustments to the Janus’s systems and refused to leave the hangar. And given the nature of what Kyoto had to tell them, Adams hadn’t wanted to discuss the matter on comlink channels.
Up to now, Kyoto had seen the Janus only on the holoscreen in Mudo’s lab. But now, in the ship’s presence—with its holographic disguise deactivated—she was struck anew by how truly strange the craft was. It wasn’t just the metallic fish-fin structures running along both sides of the ship, nor the crystalline webbing on top. Though she couldn’t put her finger on it, there was something simply not quite right about the Janus. It exuded an aura that unsettled her and set her teeth on edge, almost as if it were emitting an ultrasonic signal that she could feel even if she couldn’t hear it.
She told herself not to worry, that it was probably just her imagination. After all, she’d had one hell of a day so far—Wolf’s death, the return of the Manti, Ganymede revealing himself to be an alien imposter… No wonder she was imagining things.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Doctor,” Kyoto said, “but when Ganymede—I mean Hastimukah—was finished talking, he simply said goodbye and walked away.”
“Why didn’t you follow him?” Adams asked.
“To be honest, it didn’t occur to me,” Kyoto admitted. “I was too busy trying to sort out everything he told me. I sat there for a while, thinking, and then I called you.”
Adams turned to Mudo. “Assuming that Ganymede, or whoever he is, did tell Kyoto all the things she claims he did—and I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt—could his story possibly be true?”
Mudo gave Adams an irritated look, as if he couldn’t believe he was being forced to waste his valuable time on such foolishness. “Memory, please conduct a probability analysis of Ganymede’s story.”
Several seconds passed while they waited. Finally, Memory said, “Analysis complete. Given all current data, I calculate a seventy-three percent chance that Ganymede’s story is factual.”
One of Mudo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? And what do you base your conclusions on?”
“The story in and of itself is consistent. Also, close analysis of today’s news footage showing Ganymede being struck by a rock bears out Mei’s assertion that the wound healed almost instantly. Also, moments before that, Ganymede’s voice projected at a volume beyond human capabilities, yet he had no obvious equipment to amplify his voice.”
“Mere circumstantial evidence,” Mudo said, but despite his words, he appeared thoughtful.
“There’s more. Analysis of vid footage taken over the last few weeks reveals changes in Ganymede’s behavior patterns—his speech rhythms, choice of words, and body language. Comparative voiceprint analyses show that while Ganymede’s voice is nearly the same as before, there is a one point four percent variance between Ganymede’s former voiceprint and his current one.”
Mudo didn’t say anything this time.
“I also scanned GSA databases for any indication that an alien starship has been active in our system. If the being who spoke to Mei in the arboretum truly is an ambassador for a group called the Residuum, then he had to have gotten to Mars somehow. While I could find no clear evidence of such a ship, I did find record of an unexplained burst of hyperetheric radiation near Phobos thirty-eight days ago. In addition, several Mars orbital defense satellites have recorded gravitational anomalies that could indicate the presence of a large spacecraft that is somehow shielding itself from our sensors.”
“Well, Doctor?” Adams said.
Mudo grimaced. “It appears my earlier… levity was premature.” He turned to Kyoto. “My apologies, Commander.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Kyoto said. “If someone had told me that same story, I would’ve thought they were crazy, too.”
Adams brought his personal comlink up to his mouth. “Memory, could you clear my channel, please?”
“Done, General.”
“Adams to GSA Security. I need to speak with Seth Ganymede—in person and as soon as possible. Got me?”
“Yes, General. Any other instructions?”
“He may or may not be dangerous, so take appropriate precautions.”
“Will do, General. Security out.”
“I doubt our alien friend returned to Ganymede’s home,” Mudo said. “If he’s still in Cydonia at all.”
“I agree,” Adams said, “but we still have to check.”
“So what do we do now?” Kyoto said.
“We go ahead with the Janus’s launch tomorrow,” Adams replied. “It sounds as if this Residuum has no plans to help us against the Manti until we prove ourselves to them, so if and until that happens, we need to go on fighting the Buggers alone. And that means the Janus mission is still a go.”
“I’m not certain we want to prove ourselves worthy,” Mudo said. “After all, we know next to nothing about the Residuum. Perhaps it would not be to our advantage to join.”
Kyoto smiled. “You think the membership dues might be too high?”
“Precisely,” Mudo said.
“So we’re just going to pretend the Residuum doesn’t exist?” Kyoto asked.
“Not at all,” Adams replied. “Just because there’s been no Manti activity since this morning’s attack doesn’t mean there won’t be any soon. If we can somehow make contact with the Residuum, perhaps we can convince them we’re already worthy of their help. We could use some allies right about now.” Adams paused. “We just received word not long ago from a transport ship out of Titan Colony that Rhea is gone.”
Kyoto couldn’t believe that she’d heard Adams correctly. “You mean it’s been destroyed? The entire moon?”
“No. If Rhea had been destroyed, there’d be debris, perhaps trace radiation from whatever weapon was used. Rhea is simply gone, as if it had never existed in the first place.”
“Do you think this is evidence of a new Manti weapon?” Mudo asked.
“I don’t know what to think,” Adams admitted. “If the Manti do have such a weapon, why did they use it only on Rhea? Still, if the Manti do have a device capable of making entire moons disappear, then we need allies more than ever. In the morning, I’m going to take a transport up to the Battleship Kipling and, after the Janus makes the transference to hyperspace, I plan to go alien hunting. If all goes well, I’ll locate the starship that brought Ganymede—or whoever he is—to our system. And if I don’t find it, I’ll still be in a better position from which to direct the war effort.” Adams paused. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
From the tone of the general’s voice, Kyoto was afraid this one was going to be even worse than the news about Rhea.
“On the way over here, I received a call from Janeesh Glasgow. He still fully supports the Janus mission, but he had a request. And by request, I mean command.”
Kyoto and Mudo waited for the general to continue.
“Our illustrious council member believes that a mission of such historic importance to the Solar Colonies should not go undocumented. As he put it, we ‘owe it to humanity’s future’ to record the Janus’s journey in every detail.”
“Oh, no.” Kyoto had a terrible feeling she knew where this was leading.
“Oh, yes. At Glasgow’s insistence, one more person is going to be going along on your adventure tomorrow: Aspen DeFonesca.”
Kyoto groaned.
“You can’t be serious!” Mudo said. “This is a scientific expedition! There’s no room for a, a… tourist!”
“I believe the correc
t term is ‘media personality,’” Memory said.
Mudo ignored her. “No. I shall not allow that woman to step aboard my ship.”
“You mean Glasgow’s ship,” Adams said. “After he left here, he got curious about how you managed to pay for your secret project. After a little digging, he discovered that you’d appropriated funds from various financial accounts of his to build the Janus.” Adams glared at Mudo. “It was a damn foolish thing to do, but given the circumstances, Glasgow isn’t going to press charges.”
Mudo looked relieved.
“Besides, this way he’ll get to claim that he knowingly funded the project all along,” Kyoto said.
Adams nodded. “Exactly. But this means you do not have a choice about taking Aspen DeFonesca along. So my advice to both of you is to get as much beauty sleep as you can so you look good for the hovercam tomorrow.” He grinned. “After all, you’ll be representing the GSA.”
Still grinning, Adams departed. Mudo looked at Kyoto, shook his head, then went back into the Janus to continue getting the ship ready for launch. With nothing else to do, and being seriously depressed about having to put up with Aspen DeFonesca during tomorrow’s voyage, Kyoto decided to take the General’s advice and hit the sack, though she seriously doubted she’d be able to do more than toss and turn tonight.
But as she started away from the Janus, a tech hurried over to speak with her. Kyoto recognized the woman as Garcia, the woman who’d gotten the G-7 ready for her this morning. Kyoto had been aware that Garcia had survived the Manti attack, but seeing the woman in the flesh nevertheless made her feel better. As far as she was concerned, every human life saved was another blow struck against the Manti.
“Commander, I just wanted to thank you for what you did today. That was some damn fine flying you did out there.”
Kyoto smiled. “Not so good that I didn’t wreck my ship—and after you and your crew worked so hard getting it ready double-quick for me.”
“That’s what we maintain ‘em for, so folks like you can go out and get shot at while protecting the rest of us.” Garcia smiled. “My crew and I wanted to do more than just say thanks, though, so we had your G-7 towed back into the hangar. The general told us that you’re going to be test flying that weird-looking contraption of Mudo’s tomorrow, and he asked us to outfit the cargo bay to carry and launch a starfighter. Mudo’s not thrilled about us going near his ship, but the general ordered him, so he’s going to let us do our jobs. The ship we’re going to install is your G-7 Defender. It’ll have a new wing, perfectly calibrated weapons, and, if we have the time, a few added surprises as well.”
Kyoto was so overwhelmed with emotion, she didn’t know what to say. “You guys will probably be up all night working.”
Garcia grinned. “Won’t be the first time. The general didn’t tell us what Mudo’s ship is supposed to do, and there’s no way Mudo is going to say anything. But I figure that whatever it is, it’s supposed to help us fight the Manti, right?”
“Yes,” Kyoto said.
Garcia nodded. “Then that’s good enough for me and my crew, Commander. You stopped the last Manti swarm, and we want to make sure you have the right tools to take out this one as well.”
Kyoto saw the trust and hope in Garcia’s eyes, and she didn’t know if she could bear it. She wasn’t a savior, wasn’t even a hero. She was just a jump jockey who’d gotten lucky—real lucky—a few times. How long could that luck possibly hold?
But she knew that Garcia didn’t need to hear any of that, didn’t need her to be Mei Kyoto, but rather the starfighter pilot the media called the Hero of Luna.
She gave the tech a cocky grin and said, “Thanks, Garcia. Can’t go bug hunting without a good supply of fusion-powered pesticide, eh?”
Garcia grinned back. “No, ma’am, you sure can’t! Well, enough gabbing. I’ve got to get back to work. Clear skies tomorrow, Commander.” And then Garcia hurried off to rejoin her crew.
Kyoto watched the woman go and wondered how she could possibly live up to the expectations of a billion scared colonists who were in desperate need of a hero.
She sighed and started walking toward the hangar exit, more certain than ever that she wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.
Inside the Janus’s control room, Mudo sat at the science station examining data scrolling across a holoscreen. He was confident that the ship was ready and would perform according to design specifications, but he didn’t want there to be any mistakes. Not only because he despised mistakes—correcting them was a grotesque waste of time and energy that was better spent on other things—but because the Solar Colonies couldn’t afford him to make any mistakes. Not if humanity was to have any hope of survival.
Besides, now that DeFonesca was coming along, he didn’t want to look like an idiot on the newsvids.
The revelation of the existence of the Residuum was intriguing, and Mudo looked forward to learning more about it, as well as comparing his intellect to that of its best scientists, but the Janus’s exploratory mission would have to come first.
“Gerhard?” Memory’s voice came over the science station’s comlink.
“Hmm?” Mudo continued examining the data passing before his eyes.
“Do you think it’s wise to conceal the true nature of the Janus from General Adams and Mei? They deserve to know the truth.”
Mudo didn’t take his attention from the holoscreen. “Perhaps they do, but I can’t take the chance that they won’t understand, much less approve. The Janus may well be the last, best hope for humanity, and I will not risk the mission being canceled. And you will not tell them, Memory. I forbid it.”
“Of course, Gerhard. Thy will be done.”
“Precisely as it should be.” Mudo continued checking data and gave no further thought to the secret that lay at the heart of the Janus.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Seth Ganymede was in the middle of the most amazing dream—one that involved himself, several luscious alien women with four breasts apiece, and a vat full of soy gelatin—when a voice cut through his nocturnal fantasy.
“Wake up, Ganymede. We’re GSA Security. Your comp let us in, and we have orders to bring you to General Detroit Adams for questioning.”
Ganymede really didn’t want to open his eyes. Even though he was an Outbounder and believed wholeheartedly in humanity’s galactic expansion, he was fairly certain that of all the alien life-forms humans might encounter in the future, four-breasted women would not be among them. As this dream might very well prove his only chance to experience the delights these women had to offer, he was understandably loath to give it up. But whoever had spoken began shaking him by the shoulders, and though he desperately tried to cling to sleep and to his dream, he couldn’t prevent consciousness from returning.
He opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t. Harsh light stabbed into his optic nerves, sending bolts of pain lancing through his skull, and he threw his hands up to shield his face.
“Whoever you are, turn off that damn spotlight! You’re blinding me!” His voice came out as a dry croak, and it hurt to talk, as if he hadn’t spoken for quite some time.
“What spotlight?” said another voice.
“Use the manual controls to dim the room lights by half,” the owner of the first voice ordered.
Seconds later, the spotlight dimmed, and the agony in Ganymede’s head diminished to a dull ache. Hesitantly, he began to open his eyes, but his simple action was more difficult that he’d anticipated. He felt as if his lids had been glued shut.
After a few seconds, he managed to get his eyes open and saw six GSA security agents in black battle armor standing around his bed. The four-breasted women forgotten, Ganymede tried to sit up, but he felt weak as a newborn and couldn’t so much as lift his head from the pillow.
“What’s the meaning of th-this?” He tried to conceal how scared he was, but he didn’t do a very good job. “Has the GSA taken to assaulting law-abiding citizens i
n the middle of the night?” Actually, that was exactly what he feared.
“My orders are to bring you to GSA headquarters so General Adams can talk to you,” one of the guards said. Ganymede recognized him as the one who had woken him. “At the moment there are no formal charges that we’re aware of.”
“How reassuring,” Ganymede muttered. Still, whatever was going on didn’t necessarily have to be bad. Perhaps Adams wished to consult with him so he could get the Outbounder perspective on certain matters. Like the Earth Memorial, for one. It was due to go online in just over a month, and from what Ganymede understood from the newsnets, there were still a lot of problems—both technical and political—to be worked out. It was about time the almighty Galactic Stargate Authority recognized the importance of the Outbounders and that of Ganymede himself.
“I shall be happy to assist the GSA in any way I can.” Ganymede tried to sit up again, but he was still too weak to manage the job.
“That is, if you fine officers wouldn’t mind helping me out of bed.”
This is going to be harder than I thought. What does one wear for an expedition into hyperspace?
Aspen DeFonesca stood in front of a holographic wardrobe display, scrolling through various outfits and combinations. The vast majority of her clothing was stored in molecular compression cases, otherwise she never would have been able to fit it all into her living quarters, lavish though they were by colonial standards. On Mars, only Janeesh Glasgow’s home was larger.
Thinking of Glasgow made her smile. Though he’d tried to avoid her after his cozy little conversation with Adams, Mudo, and Kyoto—she scowled as she thought this last name—she’d managed to track him down at Johann’s, one of his favorite restaurants. She’d had no trouble convincing the darling of a maître d’ to escort her back to Glasgow’s private table (a wink and a smile that hinted as pleasures never to be delivered was all it took). Glasgow had demanded she leave in peace, but when she told him that she was contemplating writing an exposé called “All the Women That Janeesh Glasgow Has Slept With That He Doesn’t Want His Wife to Know About,” he’d quickly invited her to join him.