by Mark Wandrey
Inside the main building, she cut across one of the connecting bridges into the science wing and found Ted Hurt in his lab. Like her, he split his time between the Chosen labs and the University of Plateau. Unlike Minu though, he was retired and only did specifically requested projects for the Chosen. She knew he’d be at Steven’s Pass that week because she’d help set up the research gig he was working on, a weapons project for the Rangers.
At almost seventy, he was in pretty good shape. A slight paunch on his thin frame spoke of too many hours in the lab and too few in the gym. What had been a halo of gray hair had given out entirely over the last few years. He shaved what little of his hair remained.
He looked up with bright, sparkling blue eyes at her entrance, surveying her figure as always. She’d long ago given into the fact that Ted was an unapologetic horndog.
“Minu, my dear!” he said and got up from the stool he was perched on. He didn’t quite hop up like he used to. A dozen technicians in the lab looked up. Some nodded recognition to her, others looked on with open curiosity. There was a nearly even mixture of Chosen and civilians.
“Hi, Ted,” she said as he came over, deftly turning her head to dodge his full-on kiss. She didn’t reduce the intensity of the hug she gave him though; it might even have been a little needy.
“Are you okay?” he said, holding her by the upper arms and backing her away slightly. He knew her well enough to sense her feelings.
“Do you have an hour or so?”
“Of course, come into my office. We’re working with live ordinance here.” She glanced at the bench and saw a stack of C-7 explosives, an advanced polymer compound they’d synthesized just last year. Nearby was a mockup of what it would be going in. They’d made more progress than she had expected. She might be a college dean, but blowing things up still held a special place in her heart.
“Thanks,” Minu said and let him lead her down the hall. It took her a minute to realize his office was her old one. He caught the look on her face and smiled. “Yes, rather apropos, wouldn’t you say?”
“Fitting is what I was thinking, considering I came up with the shock rifles here.”
He nodded and settled in his chair before fixing her with an intent stare. “What can I do for you?”
Minu took out the chip she’d gotten from Director Porter and handed it to Ted, then she told him the story.
After he’d absorbed the details, he said, “I don’t honestly think Chriso would have cloned Mindy Harper,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I knew him as well as I know you.”
“I thought I knew him too,” she pointed out.
His lips compressed into a tight line, and he sighed. “Minu.”
“I’m not here for excuses. I need your help.”
“Okay,” he agreed and plugged in the chip. “I’m not a geneticist, of course.”
“I know, but you don’t expect me to go to some random specialist with this, do you?”
“No, I can’t imagine you would want to do that.”
The computer was an advanced model with holographic displays, so Minu was able to follow along as Ted worked. He accessed the genetic information used as the baseline, then logged onto the Chosen network. Using his high security clearance as a senior researcher, he obtained Minu’s master genetic file and compared them. They were a perfect match.
Minu didn’t say anything. Ted was a consummate scientist, and he was merely following basic scientific method. “That’s out of the way,” he mumbled and began looking at the comparative data. “I have to assume the data on Mindy Harper is accurate.”
“There is no reason to believe it is not.”
“That is true.” More data appeared, and the holographic display began to get crowded. With a gesture he swept some of it aside. The data windows hovered over and stuck on the walls. Ted had upgraded the office with active displays on every wall. Very handy.
Helping himself to research files from the university’s genetics department, Ted began to scan for certain key indicators between her DNA and that of Mindy Harper. Again accessing the Chosen database, he obtained Chriso’s data. In a minute he made another pronouncement. “Okay, you’re not a clone in any way.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” he said and pointed to a file. “When you create a clone, you get exact DNA matches. If the reproduction is natural, there are slight differences. They can be almost perfect, but not quite.”
Another data string came up, this one from the tribal records. It went by too fast for her to see the name. He continued his comparisons.
“They were thorough. You are definitely not Chriso’s child, so he didn’t somehow travel back in time and impregnate his ancestor.”
“You’re being simultaneously ludicrous and crass.”
“Crass maybe, but not ludicrous.” She cocked her head, and he continued. “This is a genetic record of the only surviving daughter of Mindy Harper.”
“Michelle,” Minu said from memory.
“Yes.” The woman’s image came up, and Minu was looking at an older version of herself, identical in almost every way. “This is a few years before her death in 049 AE.” More genetic data appeared on the screen, and the computer ran a comparison. “You’re not a clone of her, either. That was the real possibility. However, if you look at your genes, you’ll see you two are nearly twins. As I said, Director Porter did his homework. If you aren’t Mindy Harper’s child, it is a one in a trillion shot.”
“His people did comparative analysis against all the tribal records. There is no one else I could be related to.”
“Okay, I guess all I can do is confirm what he already did.”
“You can help me understand what the fuck is going on!”
“I dearly wish I knew.” Minu scowled at his unintentional mimicking of what Director Porter said.
She caught herself rubbing the sapphire through her shirt and suddenly stopped. She reached behind her neck and carefully released the dualloy clasp. Sliding it out from the opening of her shirt, she regarded the deep blue gem.
Nearly a full carat, it was a flawless sapphire. It was the rarest gem on the planet, even more so than diamond. A long time ago, she’d done a little research. There was no record of anyone finding a sapphire on the planet, a carat or larger. “My father said this belonged to Mindy.”
Ted reached out and took it, quickly noting the advanced dualloy links and findings. “Those, I added.” She laughed. “It was originally set in gold, but even twelve-carat gold isn’t up to Chosen field standards. I didn’t want to lose it on some distant world.”
“With dualloy, the chain could just as easily decapitate you,” he mumbled.
“The clasp has a safety release. I thought the same thing you did shortly after making it.”
He nodded and examined the gem before setting it on a compact material scanner built into the computer. It was another nice addition from the days when she ran the lab. In moments, it created a detailed scan of the gem. “Your ancestor Mindy was resourceful.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“This gem is synthetic.”
“Did they bring it from Earth?”
“No, that’s not possible. This is an industrial grade gem of point zero, zero, zero, zero, two tolerance. It’s better than what is made in the Concordia today.” As Minu thought about that, he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at the screen. “And there is something more.” With a hand motion, the gem appeared to fill most of the holographic display. The computer enhanced an area near the center of the gem and expanded it. There she saw an unmistakable, encrypted, locking hologram of the kind her brain easily decoded. “This is the kind of stuff the Weavers uploaded into your brain, right?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “And I’ve been walking around for more than a decade with it hanging around my neck.”
“What does it mean? Can you tell?”
Minu stared at it for a moment.
But as with a lot of that sort of information, it didn’t simply give her an answer. She knew it meant something. She also knew it served a purpose. She just didn’t know what it was.
“Nothing comes directly to mind,” she admitted. “My brain recognizes the code, and it feels right.” She gave a frustrated shrug, “only I have no idea what it is for.”
“I used to be really frustrated that the floating, extra dimensional crabs chose you for a brain upload. Over the years, I’ve become less enamored with the idea.”
“It’s somewhat overrated,” she admitted. She’d also wondered, more than once, what else the enigmatic beings did to her brain. Lilith assured her the Medical Intelligence found nothing out of the ordinary.
Of course, the program also insisted what the Weavers did was impossible. It refused to admit they even existed. Minu knew better, of course. They were out there, running the Portal networks throughout the galaxy. At least for now. One of Pip’s ongoing projects was to negotiate with them. The Weavers insisted they needed to hammer out a new contract; Pip had yet to figure out what that meant.
Minu used her tablet to call up a program she used to record some of the more common holographic codes. This one was anything but common, but she wanted to enter it anyway. Considering she needed a microscope to see the code that was laser etched onto an interior facet of the gem, she wouldn’t be able to read it if she ever needed it on the fly.
It took her almost fifteen minutes to enter all the permutations of the code. As she worked, she tried to make sense out of all the elements of this growing mystery. Her mother and father were related to her, but only through genetic heritage. It seemed she was her own father’s great, great, great, great, great aunt. Her mind rebelled against the idea. How could she be Mindy’s child? Then a thought occurred to her.
“Is it possible I’m from a frozen embryo?”
Ted looked up from his computer, idly scratching at a full day’s growth of gray beard.
“Possible, but not probable.” As he talked, he gestured at Mindy Harper’s bio floating between them. “In 15 AE, just after the death of her husband, Mindy led an expedition to the southern continent. It was widely believed several of the proposed fourteen Portals were located in remote areas of the planet. Lacking air transportation capable of making extended trips, they mounted an overland expedition.”
“I know the history. She returned four years later. Of the six people that went, three died on the trip, and one just after they got back.”
“That would be your storied ancestor and not your purported mother. She passed from an unknown ailment and was buried on that desert island you call home.”
Ted had only visited once. It was midsummer, before she’d put in air conditioning. He didn’t like sweating, mosquitoes, or howlers.
“That was the story. But like my parentage, it too is in doubt.” Minu told him the whole sordid tale, beginning with her father’s reaction to a request to have her genetically tested and ending with their discovery of the empty grave on her island.
“Well,” Ted said when she finished. He put his hands together and steepled his fingers, index tips tapping against his lips as he considered. “What a tangled web of lies.”
Minu resisted the urge to snort and laugh out loud. This was hardly news to her.
“I think there’s really only one option.”
“And that is?” he asked.
Minu turned her tablet and showed him a page from Chriso’s diary. “I need to follow him down the rabbit hole.”
“Your father has been dead for many years.”
“Do you really believe that?” she asked, gesturing at the data, the gem still sitting on his analyzer, and the personal logs. “He sent me this crazy, self-protecting file after he ‘died.’” She made quote marks in the air to emphasize her point.
“He raised a child that was actually the offspring of a woman who has been dead over five hundred years, and whose body just happens to be missing. And, he possessed a necklace that belonged to that woman, which happens to have an ancient, Concordian code etched into it that she apparently didn’t know about. And, the gem, itself, was made by Concordia technology four centuries before she could have gotten her hands on it.”
Ted took the gem on its dualloy chain and eyed it for a second before handing it back to her. He closed his eyes and seemed to be contemplating the floating computer displays even though he couldn’t see them.
After a minute he nodded. “I loved that boy like he was my own, but I’m forced to admit you might be right.”
* * * * *
Interlude
April 5th, 534 AE
T’Chillen Shipyard, Classified Deep Space Coordinates, Galactic Frontier
Singh-Apal Katoosh gazed out from the panoramic viewport on his command ship and wondered about his luck. Outside, in the darkness of space, thousands labored at his command. He’d gone from group commander to fleet commander to admiral and finally on to Grand Admiral in only two years.
The old grand admiral’s shuttle had crashed mysteriously three months ago. There were many higher ranking T’Chillen in the government, closer to the patriarch, with better connections, but they’d still chosen him as Grand Admiral. It defied logic. The hand of the Grent was obvious to him.
“Do our bidding, and the rewards will be limitless.” Those texted messages were few and far between. He sometimes wished he’d never gotten the first one years earlier. Outside in space, the outlines of a dozen new battlecruisers took shape. Of course, without that original message, none of this would have been possible.
“Grand Admiral,” said his assistant, lowering his head toward the floor plates as he slithered into the observation blister.
“Eskal,” Katoosh hissed in reply. The male was competent, and not terribly ambitious. This was a good thing, because assassination was not unheard of among the T’Chillen. Even if there was no clear path to advancement, favors could be garnered by killing the upstart Grand Admiral.
Whether or not the Grent’s spectral hands were on his promotion (though he did not doubt it), the fact that he’d made enemies was obvious. He gestured with his tail spike, allowing the subordinate to speak.
“The weekly report is complete.” Katoosh gestured for him to continue. “Work is slightly behind schedule. Primary work on the superstructures for the battlecruisers is nearing completion. The bots informed us that components for the destroyers are beginning to arrive though the Portals.”
“Very well. Instruct the bots to prepare to move the completed battlecruisers out of dry dock and start laying the keels of the destroyers.”
Eskal bowed and left Katoosh to his brooding. He could just see the cluster of six Portals floating in space. Provided indirectly by the Grent, they were one of the boons that had garnered him his position. Spaceborne Portals were essential for moving construction materials from the distant stockpiles provided by the Grent. They contained enough materials to build and arm almost a hundred warships. It would tip the balance of power in favor of the T’Chillen, but it didn’t make sense.
“Why would the Grent do this for us?” he wondered aloud. If the Grent were known for anything besides ruthlessness, it was their careful machinations that kept the balance of power carefully centered between the most powerful species. With a sudden chill he thought of something new. What, in his wildest imaginations, made him be so arrogant that he believed the Grent were only helping the T’Chillen?
In space, the twelve shining dry docks hovered a hundred kilometers from the Portal cluster. Arrayed like the arms of a spiral galaxy were staged materials: dualloy plates and struts for the ships, energy storage and distribution systems, a thousand types of computers, and vast amounts of raw moliplas ready to be fabricated into a million components. Those components would be fabricated in floating factories, also delivered through the Portals.
The twelve dry docks each held a battlecruiser and would soon hold three destroyers. In only months, the T’Chillen would
nearly double their warship assets. But what, or who, were the Grent helping elsewhere in the galaxy?
He needed to quietly send a message to the high command.
* * * * *
Part III
* * * * *
Chapter 1
April 5th, 534 AE
Groves Industries, Tranquility, Plateau Tribe, Bellatrix
“Taking leave?” Aaron asked incredulously. “I didn’t think you were planning to take time off until just before the baby comes.”
Minu took a sip of sweet tea and put the cup back on the carved, wooden desk in his office. She’d come there straight from Steven’s Pass, hoping to catch him before he headed home. “It’s not really a vacation I’m planning.”
“Oh?” he asked, leaning forward curiously.
“Remember I told you I had my father’s journals after we got married? Well, they are more than a simple diary.”
Her father’s legacy was one of the few secrets she’d never shared with anyone. There were dozens of computer files detailing his exploration of the galaxy, as well as his theories and observations about Concordian technology and sociology. And then there were the encrypted files she’d yet to gain access to that he’d had delivered to her by an aunt she’d only met once.
It took a few minutes to explain it all, during which he listened intently.
“Pip couldn’t break the encryption?” Aaron asked when she’d finished.
“No, it completely confounded him. And that’s a funny thing to see.”
“I’ll bet. So, you’re going to take some time to really read those entries and to try to figure out his clues?”
“Better than that. I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out the rest of the clues that lead to the codes I need to un-encrypt the final files.” She had his complete attention. “I’m going to take Lilith and run this to ground.”