Pathfinder

by Laura E. Reeve

  The exploration skiff was designed for real-space, but not for long trips. After undocking, Ariane put the boost engines at full burn and realized it’d take her almost an hour to get to the alien station. Hurry, hurry. Her fingers shook with anticipation.

  She left the Pytheas behind her and, though she had no formal training in biofeedback, she tried to influence and calm the Minoan parasite. My body can’t take this, she thought—which seemed to mitigate the tension and adrenaline. She also tried to assure herself she wouldn’t become a murdering monster like Nathanial Wolf Kim, if that was who she was pursuing. Of course, Kim had already been a sadistic bastard who jumped at a chance to take out his revenge upon her. Now he was well beyond state-sanctioned execution and had become insane, probably from putting the implant in his body. She hoped she wouldn’t suffer the same fate, but it begged the question as to what sort of “tweaks” the Minoans had put into this second implant.

  She tried a comm check with the Pytheas, but there was no answer. Maria had mentioned a damaged comm console, so maybe they were doing repairs. She passed time by doing things the skiff should be used for, namely recording data through its host of sensors. The planet was going to be a dream for biologists and naturalists of all types, but she was more concerned with the approaching artificial satellite.

  It turned out to be smaller than most moons, but still huge for an artificial object. It measured about two hundred and fifty kilometers in height, by about two hundred and thirty kilometers in diameter. This made it similar in size to Phoebe, a natural moon in the Sol system that orbited the gas giant Saturn. However, there was no confusing this thing with a natural satellite. As she came closer, the cracked egg illusion turned out to be the result of many large, separated plates that allowed glimpses of the glowing green core between their irregular edges.

  Following the urge of her Minoan parasite, she homed in on the sunward side. The dark red surface of the large plates began to resolve into large rectangular sheets of some substance, with obvious seams. Soon she saw large circular iris diaphragms, with thin overlapping plates that looked like they could expand and contract like a lens. Hurry, hurry. She headed slowly toward the one that felt right, trying to follow the signals of adrenaline that sped up her heartbeat. Her instruments indicated gravity, so she aligned the skiff with its belly toward the iris.

  The diaphragm began opening when her skiff came close. At its widest, it was near thirty meters across, allowing plenty of room for the skiff. It closed above her, and she continued to descend into a cavernous space dimly lit with red light.

  She directed the skiff’s spotlights downward and could make out a floor, along with something bright yellow—it was the other skiff, although it hadn’t made a controlled landing. The boom and antennas along its dorsal side were twisted and bent. The nose area appeared to be crumpled. Some bits of yellow farther away indicated that delicate equipment had broken off when it hit the bottom.

  Landing her skiff lightly, she watched for movement in the wreckage of the other skiff and saw none. The environmental readings outside her skiff were interesting; the atmospheric pressure was about twenty- five hundred meters, like high altitude on Terra, and was quite warm. There was enough oxygen in the air to sustain humans, but what worried her was the amount of “unknown constituents” the sensors read. These were complex gaseous organic compounds and even though they were present in low concentrations, she didn’t trust them.

  She put on a light environmental suit and a small self-contained breathing apparatus. She wouldn’t be able to withstand vacuum for more than a minute or two, but she didn’t expect to encounter it. Although the station had initially looked “broken,” that had been an illusion of the zigzagging plates; in general, the station looked to be in good condition.

  Despite feeling anxious and driven to move away from her skiff, she spent time examining the wreckage of the other one. She had a tight spotlight on the chest of her suit, so she examined the cockpit area, marveling that Kim had managed to get out alive, as it appeared he had. There were bloody smears where he’d dragged himself out of his cockpit.

  After twisting and turning, she determined which direction excited her parasite the most. She walked quickly but didn’t run, not until she felt comfortable in the slightly heavy gravity. Beneath her feet was the same smoothly designed surface that she’d seen in the Priamos ruins. She was approaching a tunnel, which had familiar inlaid ornamentation and glowed in the dim red light. When her spotlight hit it, she drew in her breath, distracted by the arching roof of the tunnel, inlaid with glowing symbols.

  Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind. A cold knife blade pressed below her jawbone. Her first instinct was to freeze. Beside her ear, a tortured voice whispered, “Why am I here?”

  About two hours later, Muse 3 reported to Matt. “Dr. Lowry seems increasingly anxious, but her patterns suggest a plan.”

  “What’s that?” Matt asked. At least this discussion took his mind off what might be happening in the Builders’ solar system.

  “She copied the commands for controlling the alien buoy. After that, she examined the instructions for operating the manipulator booms. Perhaps she intends to remove the bot?”

  “Remove it from the buoy? You mean disconnect it.” Matt put his hands over his face and rubbed hard, stretching the skin. “That’d leave us with no way to talk to the Pytheas—and they might get stranded. What are the chances of initiating nous-transit without that bot?”

  “There is not enough information for a hypothesis.”

  “I have to stop this woman.”

  CHAPTER 23

  I knew it was too soon to forget G-145. This time, I’m not talking about isolationists, or an ICT, or even the exploration of a new solar system launched from Beta Priamos. No, this time it’s about old enemies: Overlord Six has been given an ultimatum [link to statement by rivals Stephanos and Raulini]. With Six’s approval, apparently, SP Duval has violated agreements with Pilgrimage by deploying another warship to G- 145, in addition to the Terran Space Forces already in that system. Our Senate has given him a deadline for withdrawal. . . .

  —Dr. Net-head Stavros, 2106.068.21.00 UT, indexed by Heraclitus 9 under Conflict Imperative

  The blade moved up Ariane’s cheek and with a quick movement, Kim cut off her mask. She took a breath of thin, fetid air and started coughing. When he loosened his grip, she elbowed him sharply and twisted out of his grasp. As she whirled to face him, she saw why she had escaped so easily.

  Kim stepped after her, shambling, but she easily stayed out of his reach. His right ankle and leg twisted strangely; he could barely put weight on it. He held his left arm tight to his chest and she drew breath in her nose sharply, smelling the blood. He had various wounds, probably from fighting his victims on the ship, but his upper left arm looked like he had gouged and wounded it himself. There was a lump under the skin on his left shoulder, which extended to the base of his neck. As she watched, the lump shifted. The parasite? Had it escaped self-surgery by moving?

  “I’m here for a weapon.” Confusion crossed Kim’s face, or rather, Hanson’s face. She couldn’t even recognize Hanson, much less her torturer, Kim, whose face she still saw in her nightmares. After all the bruises, blood, and swelling, this man didn’t even look human anymore.

  “Are you Nathanial Wolf Kim?” she asked. There was no response, no flicker of recognition in the strange blue eyes. Kim didn’t have blue eyes, which was why Maria didn’t recognize him. She tried the name Maria used. “Nathan? You planned to use the implant and you killed people to get here. You’re working for Duval, right? Overlord Six?”

  He tilted his head, looking wary. “Do I know you?”

  She slowly backed away, down the tunnel with the arched ceiling, because her parasite wanted her to go that direction. Having lowered the intensity of the spotlight on her suit, she could almost see the layered air currents, with different scents, moving sluggishly. Kim had already come down this corridor, at le
ast once, because she smelled his blood when she turned her head.

  “I recognize you.” His voice changed, became sharper. “You were on the Pilgrimage.”

  “Yes. You tried to kill me, using antipersonnel grenades,” she said steadily.

  He smiled in a sickly way. “Orders, you know. The Aether Exploration personnel named in the contract. Get them off the Pilgrimage, or kill them. Nothing personal.”

  Nothing personal? What about breaking my legs during a torture session, to make me say Ura- Guinn was an unauthorized mission? Her voice shook as she said, “What about Ura-Guinn? What about the threats against Parmet?”

  Kim seemed surprised. “What about Ura-Guinn? What matters is now, and what we’re after. You’re going to get the prize for me.” He gestured with his right hand, the one that held the knife, because his upper left arm was mutilated. That was when she noticed his right hand was blistered and swollen. She realized with a start that he’d already tried to take the seed.

  She turned and began running, her parasite sending exhilarating chemicals into her blood. She could smell traces of Kim’s blood, from his first trip down this corridor. Behind her, Kim shuffled faster, but couldn’t keep up.

  “Get it and I’ll spare your life!” More inanities followed: “There’ll be war when we return! I can protect you!” His voice faded behind her.

  The strong gravity and thin air made her puff harder and breathe deeper. She wondered if there were mind- or behavior-altering drugs in the air, because Nathan hadn’t killed her immediately and he could have. She hoped she could handle all these “unknown constituents.”

  The high arched ceiling of the corridor suddenly disappeared, and she staggered, unbalanced, to avoid stumbling down a steep slope. Below her was a bowl of coliseum size. Above, the ceiling rose to heights similar to the landing area under the iris, but this ceiling allowed light from the Builders’ sun to enter.

  She was looking at a garden, crowded with varied colors of vegetation that fought one another to get toward the light. How could these plants continue to live, over so many years, with no one to tend them? Moreover, how did the material above filter out harmful radiation? There was heat here, as well as robust water and air recycling—provided by systems that could last thousands of years. Obviously, human technology could benefit from the Builders.

  There was a path to the center of the bowl and she walked along it slowly, occasionally passing under looming vegetation, trying to make sense of areas that looked more like displays than planters. Something kept the plants from encroaching into the path, but she didn’t know what—Was that movement? Were there animals here?

  Biological temple. That was the direct translation of the name of this solar system, according to the Minoans. Was it possible the Builders kept the reproductive codes of their planets enshrined here? Surely, this garden was only one of many; huge as it was, it couldn’t contain enough plants and animals to represent the planet below. She couldn’t imagine species sustaining themselves here, even with the possibility of perpetual power. There were plenty of puzzles here, and she wasn’t the one to solve them. Given time, a host of other people could explore this solar system in detail.

  She was here for only one thing and she felt it as she came to the center of the bowl. The path intersected another, the two of them cutting the bowl into quarters. Their meeting place was round and flat, with what she assumed were benches around the periphery. She’d already seen the inhuman dimensions of benches and doors on Priamos. From here, the wild jungle could be seen climbing up all parts of the bowl.

  What held her attention was the column at the very center of the bowl. Smooth, made of a material that had glittering veins, its circumference was so large that she couldn’t put her arms around it. Her parasite vibrated with excitement; the seed was within this pillar, which supported nothing and had nothing on its flat top, which was level with her eyes.

  She felt the urge to touch it, although that’s probably what Kim did, and he got a blistered hand. She held her hand near the column and felt burning heat, even in her environmental suit, which had thick protective gloves. This was probably a security feature by the Builders—so her Minoan parasite couldn’t help her. Or could it?

  She decided to shed the entire suit. As she pulled it off, she realized she still had Maria’s stunner in her coveralls. She circled the pillar, feeling the seed calling to her, making her parasite thrum. No matter which way she turned, or how she held her arm, she felt it pulling her in all parts of her body. But when she drifted close, the heat pushed her back.

  Surely the Minoans knew something like this might happen. If nothing else, the seed would have “grown” an archive and been buried within it. She stopped. If the seed called to her, couldn’t she call to it? Extending her hand, but keeping it from touching the pillar, she concentrated. Called. Cajoled. Urged. Cried out with need.

  Crack! She jumped as pieces fell off the pillar. It split along the veins, from the top toward the bottom. As chunks fell away, she continued to pull at the seed, mentally. It flew out of the heart of the pillar and she grabbed it. A clear crystal was in her palm, almost small enough to wrap her hand around. It looked similar to, but much smaller than, their crystal storage on Aether’s Touch.

  She grinned. It seemed like magic, although she knew it was merely advanced technology. Hurry, hurry. Her parasite wanted her to rush this crystal back to its masters. She looked around at the peaceful garden. If this was a v-play drama, then this whole station would start imploding, right? Nothing happened. She put the cool, almost cold crystal into the pocket that didn’t have the stunner, and sealed it tight. She ran back up the incline, out of the bowl, at a sustainable pace. There might not be imminent danger of station destruction, but she’d left wounded people on the damaged Pytheas and the Minoans wanted this crystal—badly, according to her parasite.

  When she entered the tunnel, she smelled Kim before he accosted her, but she was surprised by his strength and tenacity.

  “I need it!” he seemed to be screaming, although there were some inarticulate sounds mixed in. He tried to wrap himself about her, his hands finding the outside of the pocket with the crystal.

  She twisted violently and pushed him away. With a feeling of careless familiarity, she pulled the stunner out of her pocket and pressed the trigger. Surprised by the speed of her reflexes, she resisted the urges of her parasite and stopped. The sizzle-pop sound of the stunner ceased and she smelled the ionized air mixing with his sweat, blood, and pain. She could smell his pain. Amazed, she stepped back.

  “Nooooo,” wailed the thing that hunched against the wall. He should have been twitching and helpless from the stunner, but he wasn’t. His Minoan parasite might be helping him, but at least he seemed to be tiring.

  “Do you know who Major Ariane Kedros is?” she asked.

  He muttered something about Ura-Guinn, but the visceral hate that Kim had previously displayed toward her wasn’t there.

  “What about those grenades you used?” She started backing down the hall toward her skiff.

  He launched himself toward her again. She stunned him. Again. He still crawled after her as she tried to back down the hall. Suddenly angry at the deaths he’d caused, the pain he’d inflicted upon the girl who made the mistake of opening David Ray’s door, the neural probe he’d done on Dr. Lee, for all the crimes he’d committed for Overlord Six—she lashed out with her foot and kicked him in the torso. He howled, curled up, and she did it again. What am I doing? How is this different from torturing someone? Ashamed, she dialed up the stunner’s power and finally had him twitching into unconsciousness.

  “I just don’t know what to do with you,” she said aloud, looking down. “Maria could be wrong. Maybe you’re not Kim, maybe you’re just Hanson.”

  She thought she would have enjoyed taking out her revenge on Nathaniel Wolf Kim, who’d tortured her, but this thing that curled in front of her wasn’t that man. He didn’t look like Kim, with a thick mop
of caramel hair; she realized that he was the person who’d bumped into her while she spoke with Maria near the maintenance office. Looking at the broken man, she tried to convince her emotions that this was Kim, but the niggling doubts only grew. What if Maria, for some strange reason, had lied to her? No, the only thing she’d do to this man, or perhaps for this man, was to leave him.

  The skiffs could only hold one person, anyway, and his was no longer operational. She wouldn’t be sending someone to his death—remembering Duval’s accusation, which still rankled her. Kim, Hanson, or whoever, could be retrieved during another mission, in a day or two. She checked the wreckage of his skiff and pulled out the emergency supplies: four days of minimal water and rations, plus some first aid supplies. Making sure they were in plain sight, she added all the emergency food and water from her skiff. Surely, eight days of supplies was enough. Provided they could find him later, he’d face justice for his crimes when he returned.

  The iris opened as she lifted off. She felt wonder at the Builders’ technology that let her skiff through yet kept the station pressurized—but shelved all her questions as she set her course for the Pytheas.

  “Dr. Lowry is having difficulty using the manipulators to retrieve the bot,” Muse 3 told Matt. “I cannot provide input to the manipulators directly, but I have slowed the interface between her controls and the actuators by several seconds. The lag is making her more distressed, because she cannot catch the bot.”

  “Good job.” Matt chuckled. “Hopefully, that’ll delay her until the Percival arrives.”

  “The Percival has arrived and hailed us already. It is standing by. Dr. Lowry has told them you are unavailable. She also said that the bot requires maintenance.”

  “They accepted that?” Matt started cursing under his breath. Of course they did; they didn’t have any reason not to believe her. He stepped down from the head. Too bad Dr. Lowry didn’t need to use this facility—for the first time, Matt regretted the convenience of a small hygiene closet off the control deck.