“Maybe our xenologists have amassed enough background on Builder technology to make educated guesses. I’ll start working with them,” Dalton said. “And I’ll consult the military advisors we have at our disposal, to see how we can give the Pytheas more defensive capabilities.”
“We’ll continue working on communicating with the buoy,” Matt said.
The meeting started to break up until Contractor Director said, “I must speak with employees of Aether Exploration separately.”
At which time, Dr. Lowry crossed her arms and sat back down. “We need open R&D for the exchange of ideas and technology—having secrets only privy to Aether Exploration is unhealthy.”
“We will discuss a private contract between Hellas Nautikos and Aether Exploration.” Contractor Director’s words didn’t budge Dr. Lowry.
Dr. Novak and Dalton Lengyel left, with barely a shrug of dissent. Dr. Lowry, jaw clenched, remained and tried to engage Contractor Director in a silent battle of wills. This was extremely difficult because Minoans had no face to focus upon, only the dark contours under the horns. Ariane was puzzled by the depth of Lowry’s stubbornness, but to her surprise, the Minoan emissary broke first by making a fluid gesture with its index finger. The guardian stepped toward Dr. Lowry, who paled and stood up.
“Okay, I’ll leave,” she muttered, making a wide berth around the guardian as she left.
The guardian closed the door and on the wall behind Contractor Director the word “Proprietary” displayed. Ariane pulled out her slate again to scan for monitoring devices.
“You did that two days ago, Ari,” Matt said. He sighed when she held up the recording pip she found under a chair.
“You have to remain vigilant in the secrecy business.” She dropped it on the floor and crushed it.
“Is there any way to figure out who planted that?” David Ray asked. “Or why they’re so persistent?”
“Doubtful. It might not have come from the same people, this time.” She shook her head as she sat down. The face of Terran intelligence was fracturing. The TEBI that Parmet built, that trained Maria, that gave Andre his missions more than fifteen years ago, might no longer exist—which might be the message behind the explosives on the Pilgrimage, built with old TEBI-issue grenades.
Contractor Director began. “As Explorer of Solar Systems has stated, we cannot survive a nous-transit to the Builders’ world. Hence, our hiring of Aether Exploration and our support of your expedition.”
Support? How about insane acceleration? Without the Minoans’ translator and other insights into the Builders, they wouldn’t have considered an expedition for decades. Ariane saw David Ray and Matt exchange a glance. Matt looked as if he said, Don’t go there, and David Ray wasn’t taking the advice.
“Can you explain why you can’t survive, but we can?” David Ray asked.
“No.” It sounded like a case of I can, but I won’t, and David Ray looked about to ask another question, but Contractor Director continued rolling. “We do require reciprocity for our pilot enhancements and must draw up a contract. Explorer of Solar Systems will retrieve and return our property, which the Builders stole from us.”
Stole? This was intriguing enough to keep everyone’s mouth shut.
“After we made contact with the Builders, we tried to encourage their development by seeding their technology. Admittedly, we made mistakes regarding which technologies to encourage, but we always told the Builders the seed must be returned.”
“You’re speaking metaphorically?” Ariane had a visual picture of the Minoan holding a huge nut or kernel between its gloved hands.
“No, Explorer of Solar Systems. This is concrete, something you can touch, must touch. Perhaps you should think of a seed crystal, which acts as a nucleus for crystallization. In this case, our seed can grow an archive of information.”
That helped, because humankind had progressed to crystal data storage. “So I’m looking for something that looks like one of our crystal vaults? That could be pretty big.” She exchanged a look with Matt. They carried sapphire-protected crystal storage on the Aether’s Touch, more than a vault’s worth. “What will it look like?”
“We cannot describe the physical characteristics of the archive grown by the seed.”
“Is it still useable?” she asked.
“Of course. The Builders received the seed from us a few thousand years after first contact with us. After ten or eleven thousand years, we decided they misused the technology and formally requested its return. They responded by preventing us from physically repossessing the seed for their archive.”
Ariane raised her eyebrows. Two important tips: The Minoans had a very long memory and, apparently, they held grudges for just as long.
“How did they misuse your—your gift? And was it a gift, freely given?” David Ray asked.
Contractor Director paused far longer than the Minoan norm, which was already long. Beside her, Matt fidgeted, but they all waited.
“This will be difficult for you to understand, because the Builders had different concepts and traditions around ‘gifts.’ In particular, the receiver had obligations to the giver, with respect to the gift. The gift had to be respected.” Contractor Director spoke carefully.
“So they didn’t have a ‘no strings attached’ clause?” Matt asked.
“If I understand that clause correctly, Owner of Aether Exploration, the answer is no. We were within the traditions, rules, and laws of their society to ask for the return of our seed.”
Ariane had another problem. “You want me to retrieve this ‘seed,’ but you can’t even describe it. Where’s it located?”
“We do not know.”
“This is ridiculous!” She forgot the warnings about raising your voice to Minoans and speaking too fast, which was considered disrespectful. “How the hell do you expect me to find something in a great big solar system, without a location or even a description!”
Contractor Director went motionless. Matt and David Ray had wide eyes, looking between her and the Minoan. She realized she’d better control her temper, fast. “I apologize for my outburst, Contractor Director. But how will I find this article?”
“With your implant.” The Minoan bowed its horns, perhaps excusing her behavior. “It will help you home in on our technology. You will be able to sense direction—”
Emergency calls always sound obnoxious. David Ray suddenly received one of those calls, with alarms that everyone else could hear. He started in his seat and answered, pressing his implant mike.
“David Ray. Yes?” He listened, his face serious, and then said, “I’ll be there in a few moments.”
“They found Lee unconscious, collapsed in her lab.” David Ray headed for the door and the guardian moved out of his way.
“I’m right behind you,” said Matt, rising.
“I should go also,” Ariane said to Contractor Director, receiving an acknowledging nod. The discussion about the implant would have to wait.
Dr. Lee was sitting on the bed in the patient area. Two Terran Space Force medics attempted to treat her, but she wasn’t a cooperative patient. One side of her face had swelled and promised a black eye with bruising down to her neck. A medic was applying a cold pack to the area.
“I only fainted. Really, I don’t have time to visit your clinic,” she was saying irritably as David Ray hurried across the lab to kneel in front of her.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” David Ray asked, holding both her hands in his.
“I started logging the results of the tissue tests. I opened the incubator, I remember feeling woozy . . .” Lee pulled one of her hands out of David Ray’s and took over holding the cold pack to the right side of her face. “I’m quite capable of holding this, thank you.”
Ariane went around to the other side of the lab bench, where the door to the incubator hung open. The interior tray had fallen to the floor and bent. Puddles of nutrient solution lay about, splashed out when the tray fell, and th
ere was only one implant.
She picked up the tray gently, trying not to rock the remaining implant. Its streaks were faded and she wondered if it had gotten too cold on the floor. As she fit the misshapen tray back into the incubator, the implant suddenly rippled and one thin end rose to wrap lightly around her thumb. She nearly dropped the tray, but its soft, comfortable feel against her skin stopped her revulsion. It felt like a baby curling its hand around her thumb; now she could believe the Minoans had designed the implants for her body.
With as light a touch as she could manage, she peeled the implant off her thumb. She closed the incubator door, noting it was set to human body temperature. Matt came around the end of lab bench and stopped in surprise at the sight of the mess on the floor.
“What happened here?” He stood about two meters away and he bent down to view the floor from a more acute angle. “Did something drag liquid over there? There’s a dried trail.” He pointed at two vents in the floor behind him.
“One of the implants is missing.” Ariane exchanged a glance with him, and they both ran over to the vents.
“Could it squeeze through these grates?” Matt poked at the finger-size holes in the grates. The larger grate was for air exchange between the lab and utility area between decks, and it was fastened down onto the raised floor structure. He pulled off the smaller vent cover, for distributing pressurized gas.
“Maybe.” She bent down and looked into the small vent, which was nano-manufactured pipe. “This should have a one-way valve, to prevent backflow. I can’t see all the way to the valve because it curves.”
“If it went into the subfloor area, it could be anywhere.”
“This doesn’t make sense.” Ariane shook her head. “I didn’t think these things could travel, much less motivate themselves for—for escape. Even if they have rudimentary brains, I don’t think they can live long in low temperatures. Why didn’t they try to get back to the incubator, which is warm enough to keep them alive?”
“Beats me. I’ll call maintenance,” Matt said grimly, his hand going to the base of his jaw. He turned away as he quietly made the call.
She frowned, looking down at the grates and hearing Dr. Lee repeat her story again, word for word. Sighing, she put in a call also, to Beta Priamos Station security.
“There’s a Minoan- made worm loose and running around the station?” was Ensign Walker’s first response, and she had to calm him down. His second response was to get to the lab as fast as possible, followed by a TSF noncom, who started helping Matt and the maintenance tech remove the grate to the subfloor area. Causing Dr. Lee more irritation, Ensign Walker made her go through her story again.
“Are you sure you weren’t attacked, maybe stunned?” Walker was poking at his slate as he asked the question, so he didn’t see Lee’s eyes flare.
“I can tell the difference between feeling light-headed and having a couple hundred thousand volts applied to my body,” she said scathingly.
“I still think we should have the medics do a scan.”
“I’m a medical doctor, and I haven’t suffered any serious injury. As I said, I opened the incubator, I remember feeling woozy—”
“Then there’s no harm in letting the medics—” Walker tried again.
“No!” Lee’s eyes widened into a glare and she started shouting. “Who do you think you are, young man?”
David Ray flinched and pulled back. Ariane’s frown grew deeper; Dr. Lee always mixed her wise-old-lady tartness with warmth and humor, but now she just seemed like a crusty old witch. To be fair, she was hurt and tired, but this intense anger made her unrecognizable.
“I think I am Ensign Walker of the Terran Space Forces, entrusted with the security of this station.” Walker glared right back at her. “Do I need to arrest you, Dr. Lee, or will you go willingly to the clinic?”
“Please, Lee.” David Ray’s voice was hoarse, obviously fighting tears.
They took her, but she didn’t go willingly. Luckily, Lee wasn’t strong enough to make too much of a scene. Ariane beckoned to Walker and pulled him aside.
“Does the clinic have any way to check for use of a neural probe?” she asked the ensign quietly.
“You’re pretty quick on the uptake. I’ll ask the medics if they’ve got the equipment to check for that.”
“I can recognize the signs: fanatical adherence to a word-for-word story, anger and subconscious distress when the story is questioned. Even worse, personality changes—can you find out who could have been in this lab in the past few hours?”
“ComNet hasn’t been activated on this ring yet. We’ll look into it, Ms. Kedros, and you’ll be third, maybe fourth, to know. After the SP and his staff, of course.” Ensign Walker gave her a tight smile.
“Better consider the possibility that one Minoan device was stolen.” Matt walked up, wiping his hands on a towel. “We can’t find any nutrient solution on the grates, so it probably isn’t wandering about in the dark empty spaces of the station.”
“Can anyone use those Minoan—things, or just you, Ms. Kedros?” Ensign Walker asked, revealing the reach of the Terran intelligence-gathering machine. He was probably only a shift behind her and Matt, reading reports on their meeting—and whatever Ensign Walker knew, SP Parmet knew.
“I don’t know.” Ariane glanced at Matt, who was frowning. Perhaps he was wondering where Walker got his information. On the other hand, it wasn’t a bad idea to have an informed Walker doing the investigation. “I need to speak to the Minoans, as well as go through Dr. Lee’s notes.”
Ensign Walker walked off with Matt to examine the vents and the trail of nutrient solution. When they were on the far side of the lab, she tried to call Owen Edones. His queue was still blocked for the audit. She tried Sergeant Joyce next. His queue wasn’t blocked and by his status, he shouldn’t be out of his clinic room, but all his calls were going directly to recorded queue. Where was he?
She chewed her lip. She’d like some advice because she was flying blind here, but leaving information on his queue was unwise. “Call me when you can, Joyce,” was all she said.
Joyce had purposely put his calls on hold. He was casually sitting on a bench outside Recreation Room Three, with his hated walker to his left and burly Captain Floros seated on his right. Neither was in uniform and they blended in with the off-duty crowd, which was restive because the ICT sessions were now closed and they’d lost their free entertainment.
“Why do you think he’s going to pass on information this afternoon?” Joyce asked, watching a Feed correspondent try to provoke an “emotional” moment out of some hydroponics workers.
“Because he just discovered the Weapons Demand Schedule Backup.” Floros’s voice was silky with satisfaction.
Joyce squinted as he pushed his brain. “I don’t remember that one. It’s a log? Of what?”
“Of nothing. But what sort of Ships’ Information Control Officer would I be if I didn’t point out to the auditor the lack of a Weapons Demand Schedule Log, when there was a backup with that name?”
Joyce laughed. “Myron immediately assumed incompetence or treachery. Someone must have erased the original, right?”
“After Myron checked his list of logs, he fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. He demanded a copy and I said I wasn’t familiar with this log, but I suspected it contained ship—”
“Performance data? You’re scary, Captain, when you set your sights on someone. But what if they don’t use the same drop as before?”
“That’s where the dogs come in—and Myron’s stinginess,” Floros said. “There’s only one medium he can be using. Crystal would be outrageously expensive, the log is too big for implants, so that leaves portable discs and sticks. I know Myron uses ship’s stock for the audit copies, but I suspect his own copies go on stock also, so he doesn’t have to buy his own. I’ve carefully contaminated the supply discs and sticks with one of Xena’s special colognes.”
“He could have his own stash. They’re pretty
small.”
“Granted, I’m taking a chance. I checked supply and found he’s requested a couple discs here and there, but he’s kept the number small, hasn’t even requisitioned a whole box. When he’s making the official audit copy, he asks his escort for a disc—and I handed him one with a drop of the scent on it.”
Joyce frowned. “So you’re contaminated.”
“I beg your pardon, Sergeant.” But Floros smiled. “I rubbed myself down with a soap the dog handler recommended, and I’ve changed clothes. That scent sticks to everything, your hands, your pockets, anything you touch—so I spent a long time steaming.”
“Hope Myron takes the bait.”
“And soon. With the ICT and audit both winding down, we don’t have much time.”
CHAPTER 18
Neural probes were first used, near the end of the war, by the fledgling Terran Bureau of Intelligence [link to TEBI, under leadership of Isrid S. Parmet]. It’s difficult to detect use of neural probes after the subject’s tissues have healed in the area near the brain stem. . . .
—Dr. Diotrephes, testimony to Senatorial Subcommittee on Intelligence, 2105.302.10.05 UT, indexed by Democritus 8 under Metrics Imperative
After Lee Pilgrimage was taken to the clinic, Ariane tried to go through her notes with the help of a battlefield medic, courtesy of Sergeant Pike. Specialist Dimitriou didn’t have an advanced medical degree, but he had a pragmatic, unassuming manner and a quick mind.
“I’m better at immediate aid and trauma surgery, ma’am,” Dimitriou confessed. “This xenografting is beyond me.”
“The fact you know the word ‘xenograft’ puts you ahead of all of us.” She smiled at him. “I hear you trained with one of the manufacturers of our implants.”
“This is way ahead of stuffing a chip or mike or ear bug under your skin.”
With Dimitriou’s help, she located the tissue grafting test results, which looked quite successful. Only one implant had been used for tissue grafting. The other was the control, and was now missing. But was it even usable?
Pathfinder Page 23