“First off, you, being non-human, would not have been allowed outside Tede’s starport. Tede is a xenophobic hermit-world with strict laws concerning non-human sophonts.”
“I know,” Voide answered. “When I accompanied Dr. Salzmann I was disguised as a human.”
“I see,” Simmons said, nodding. Leaning in toward them, he slowly added, “It seems while your executive officer made quite the case for how lawfully Star Wolf acted in its Ratuen insurgence, you now willfully admit to violating a sovereign Theocracy world’s immigration and inter-species interaction laws. While we have no authority to enforce the law of Theocratic worlds, your testimony amply demonstrates that legality of action is an ambiguous concept where Star Wolf is concerned.”
John’s eyes went wide. He knew enough about Voide to expect Simmons’s taunts would have the Prophane’s blood boiling. To John’s surprise, only the sound of the arms of her chair taking much more than their expected tension stresses gave indication of the difficulty in maintaining her restraint. Otherwise, the chief security officer kept her head as Simmons continued.
“Secondly, according to our sources on Tede, the Salzmann home was perfectly sound when you arrived.”
“Your sources are incorrect,” Voide said, her caged fury clearly pushing against the calm of her response like a thoroughbred waiting to burst out of the starting gate.
“I highly doubt that,” Simmons continued. “We have incontrovertible evidence that you removed the aforementioned research before torching the house yourselves to cover your tracks.
“And finally,” Simmons said, turning his attention away from Voide and back toward Molon. “There is the whole matter of your return to Ratuen.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Molon replied.
“What I mean is that if one has been illegally abducted, one generally does not break back into prison. Yet forces under your command, Captain Hawkins, carried out not just the one, but also a second terrorist attack against a world and facility under the control of the Dawnstar Technocracy. While your well-spoken executive officer might be able to wiggle a way around charges for the first attack, I am afraid your return to Ratuen, and murderous actions while there, are not covered under your initial contract. Given that Ratuen is a sovereign Dawnstar world, and given Dawnstar’s alliance with the Provisional Imperium, this is a case of high treason and thus a capital offense.”
John gave a quiet gasp as Molon stared silently at the interrogator, his ears flattened against his skull, likely unconsciously. John surmised that the same thing was going through Molon’s mind as was going through his own. They had left Ratuen and proceeded straight to Hatacks. FTL communications didn’t exist. How had Simmons possibly gotten word about their most recent visit to Ratuen before Star Wolf arrived?
“Ah, I see you didn’t expect me to know about that yet,” Simmons added. “Yes, we have a mapped route between Hatacks and Ratuen that cuts several hours off the rabbit trail you uncovered. So your return to Ratuen and your unprovoked, murderous actions against Dawnstar citizens contradict this fanciful abduction story, don’t you see?”
The smug, matter-of-fact manner of the GalSec interrogator sent chills down John’s back. It was almost like this man was not even fully human. Still, his calloused twisting of the facts was more than John could continue to stomach in silence.
“You rotten liar! Dawnstar did kidnap us, and that pig of a warden murdered Elena in cold blood in front of my eyes. You are right; I hired Star Wolf to take me back to Ratuen, because you lousy spooks, or someone you know of, faked a message to trick me into believing Elena was still alive. If there is any crime on our part, it rests on me and me alone. Let Star Wolf’s crew go and you can carry out your capital punishment on me, if that’s to be the way of it.”
Simmons’s impassive face actually cracked a smile. John was not sure it was an improvement over his stone-faced coldness.
“I’m sorry if my amusement appears rude, doctor,” Simmons replied. “I am afraid I could not control myself in light of your response. You see, you almost made it sound as if you had a say in the matter.”
Russel and Starling started to laugh at the unexpected quip from Simmons before Twitch’s firm, commanding voice cut their mirth short.
“Actually, Senior Special Interrogator Simmons, legally we were still under lawful contract, albeit not the same contract. This second incursion was under contract directly with Dr. John Salzmann. Given that Salzmann Pharmaceuticals has standing contracts with the Theocracy government, there is precedent upon which to argue an implied limited agency between Salzmann Pharmaceuticals and the Theocracy. As CEO, Dr. John Salzmann has rights of action under that limited agency. Given his belief, based on compelling physical evidence, that Dr. Elena Salzmann could still be alive, the return to Ratuen would still legally be considered a ‘recovery action’ by extended agency.”
John deeply appreciated the commander’s arguments on his behalf. Molon had shared with him that during their time together in the Imperial Scouts, getting them into trouble was his job while getting them out had been Twitch’s. John was beginning to understand what Molon meant by that.
Unfortunately, John doubted that Twitch’s legal grandstanding would avail much. For all their pretext of authority and decorum, this was a glorified blackmail session, not a legitimate court of inquiry. John was convinced he would not leave Revenge alive. The best he could hope for was to try and negotiate for the lives of the Star Wolf crew, who had risked so much already on his behalf.
After several tense moments while those at the head of the table whispered amongst themselves regarding Twitch’s statements, Mark Russel turned toward John.
“Dr. Salzmann, despite Commander Richardson’s deft and articulate defense, you and I both know the truth of the allegations made against Star Wolf and her crew. Whatever limited agency may actually exist between Salzmann Pharmaceuticals and the Theocracy, it can in no way be reasonably extended to include espionage, acts of terrorism, and wanton destruction of Dawnstar property. However, I am so moved by your impassioned plea and willingness to surrender your life on behalf of your friends that I feel obligated to respond to your petition.”
John felt his heart drop at the condescending tone in Russel’s voice. Whatever he was about to propose, it definitely did not stem from respect or compassion.
“I will make you a one-time offer that is going to expire in about sixty seconds. You hand over your wife’s research notes to us, and I will drop all charges against you and against Star Wolf’s crew.”
“Then I suppose we just get to fly away free?” John asked, curling his lip derisively.
“Quite so,” Russel continued. “We will escort Star Wolf to the jump point to either Tede or Furi, whichever you prefer. You will be allowed to leave, provided you promise never to return to Dawnstar or Provisional Imperium space. Unfortunately, I will be forced to issue a revocation of Star Wolf’s authorized Articles of Operation for Provisional Imperium contracts, but I am certain your captain would admit this is a small price to pay in exchange for your lives and freedom.
“Should you, however, refuse this generous and lenient offer, I will execute every single member of Star Wolf’s crew for engaging in acts of terrorism, piracy, and treason, saving you for last so that you can watch as each life is extinguished due to your recalcitrance. It’s your choice, doctor, but choose quickly. My patience is expended.”
John took a deep, slow breath. His heart fluttered in his chest. Part of him wanted to search the faces of his companions for guidance, but he dared not look for fear of the condemnation or accusations he might find lurking behind their eyes.
If he complied with Russel’s ultimatum, billions upon billions might die in an insidious genocide. Who knew how far the Provisional Imperium would go if it developed a genetically selective bioweapon? Refusing to comply meant an immediate death sentence for a crew full of sophonts whose only crime was trying to save John’s life.
Even with that, the ch
oice was not nearly so clear cut. With all Molon had shared about GalSec, there was nothing that gave John the slightest assurance that Russel would keep his word even if John handed over Elena’s datacube.
John’s gambling instincts told him he was holding a losing hand. When a gambler is into the pot too deeply to fold, holding losing cards, and facing an opponent who appeared to be sitting strong, a half-hearted bluff would accomplish nothing. There was only one move—all in!
“I can’t help you, Deputy Director Russel,” John said, looking straight into Russel’s eye and doing his best to show the steely resolve of a man with nothing to lose. “So you do what you have to do. I swear by the Lion, I don’t have Elena’s research to give to you.”
John kept his external composure, but his stomach fluttered. He knew he was lying, but lying to protect the lives of others was a gray area. After all, in the Bible wasn’t Rahab the prostitute praised for lying to protect the Hebrew spies? And didn’t God Himself instruct Samuel not to tell Saul the whole truth about his intention to anoint David as the new king? While he did have Elena’s datacube, he certainly did not have data he could rightly hand over to genocidal maniacs. At least that much was true.
“That is most unfortunate,” Russel replied, a sardonic smile crossing his face.
“I’m sorry,” John replied. “It is not a choice.”
That much, in John’s mind, was true enough.
Russel rubbed his face and ran his fingers back through his hair in frustration.
“I had hoped to avoid this,” Russel said, nodding toward the silent, ginger-haired man in the medical coat seated next to him. “But perhaps my colleague here, Dr. Rickham, is correct. There is only one thing that will change your mind.”
Russel tapped the controls on the table’s build in comm unit.
“Send in our guest.”
Momentarily the doors behind where Russel was seated opened. John’s breath caught in his throat. His ears rang and his hands went cold. John blinked his eyes furiously to batter back the tears as he fought the swooning light-headedness that threatened to rob him of consciousness. There before him stood…
Elena?
Twenty-Six – Shattering
The room rested in silence for what seemed to John like an eternity. There she stood, not ten meters from him. His brow sweating, hands quivering, and stomach churning, John fought against the swirling vertigo threatening to rob him of consciousness as he rose slowly from his seat.
“Elena?...How?...What?”
Part of him wanted to rush to the image of his late wife standing before him. Something deep in his mind, however, sounded alarm bells. He leaned slightly on the conference table with one hand to steady himself as he fought the urge to collapse.
“I’m sorry, John,” said the apparition bearing the face of his beloved Elena. “It was never supposed to play out like this. You should be back on Tede, safe and starting a new life without me. Dr. Rickham was right, though,” she said, nodding toward the white-coated figure seated next to Russel. “After examining your psychological profile, he predicted that once everything had gone this far off track, you would never stop unless I showed myself and explained things to you.”
“John,” Molon said, taking a grip on his arm. “This can’t really be Elena. It’s some kind of clone or copy made to look like her.”
“But…” John argued, hope and denial fighting for control of his mind.
“We both saw Elena die,” Molon said, squeezing John’s arm even tighter. “Whatever slick game GalSec is playing at, don’t fall for it.”
“I’d guess an android,” Dub added, rubbing his chin with his mechanized glove-hand as if he were looking over a new engine prototype. “Those cover artists can do wonders. With a holo and a few hours, they can make a ‘droid look like anyone.”
“Shut your mouth, Lubanian,” Elena shrieked at Molon. “This is your fault! If you hadn’t shown up and pulled John out before we were finished, none of this would have been necessary. John would have been returned to Tede and moved on with his life. Meanwhile, my research would already be helping to put us back on the road to peace and reunification of the Empire of Humaniti.”
John wavered slightly, shaking his head in a continuous series of miniscule motions that looked like a motor function glitch in an android. His mind reeled, trying to process the reality of all he saw and heard.
“Dr. Rickham?” John asked, finally snapping out of his denial loop and looking up toward the ginger-haired physician.
“Yes, Dr. Salzmann?”
“Do you carry a portable bioscanner?”
“Well,” Rickham laughed, “I can’t say as head of a research division I have much use for it nowadays, but yeah, I still carry one. Old habits are hard to break.”
“I understand,” John said, walking toward the far end of the table and feeling like he was watching himself from somewhere else. “Might I borrow it, please?”
The armed guards around the perimeter of the room raised their weapons as John moved toward the head of the table. He didn’t break stride. Somewhere deep inside he hoped one of them would pull a trigger and wake him from what most certainly was the most disturbing nightmare he had ever dreamed.
“Stand down,” Admiral Starling ordered. “Dr. Salzmann poses no threat.”
The security officers complied, but John only caught the lowering of their weapons out of the corner of his eye. He was walking toward Rickham, but he could not take his eyes off the visage of Elena. If this was a fake, they had her copied exactly, from the tiny freckle below her left eye, to the way she inhaled much more quickly than she exhaled when she was nervous. Even the tiny dimples in her smile were perfect. But how?
John took the bioscanner from Rickham’s outstretched hand. It was an old Lifetex model 600. Those things were outdated and being replaced when John was still in his residency. He looked it over, and from what he could remember everything was distantly familiar. As far as John could tell, the device was genuine.
“Dub,” he called back to Star Wolf’s chief engineer. “Could you come look at this for me, please?”
Weapons again rose to ready when the huge malmorph stood from his seat and lumbered toward the head of the table. Their other hosts remained seated, but Simmons stood up and interposed himself between his cohorts at the head of the table, and John and Dub. Starling motioned again for the guards to lower their weapons, but there was a look of apprehension in the admiral’s eyes at the sheer size of Chief Dubronski. Simmons showed no such concern.
John had calculated this move very carefully. If this was a real scanner, and the scans gave any indication this was not Elena, he wanted someone from Star Wolf at this end of the table with him. Dub was the only one he could think of an excuse to get here, though.
“Dub, can you examine this scanner and tell me if it is what it appears to be, or if it has been tampered with in any way? Is there anything that would give you reason to believe it is not an ordinary portable bioscanner?”
Dub grasped the device gingerly in his mechanical hand-gloves. He eyed it carefully for a few minutes and did some cursory diagnostics using the device’s built in systems.
“Looks right to me, Doc,” Dub answered. “This thing is at least three decades old, though. Hardly see one of these anymore. If they were going to fake something, it would be a lot easier to reprogram one of the newer models. If I remember right from my days as a junker, these Lifetex 600’s barely had enough memory to do what they were built to do, much less anything else.”
“I told you,” Dr. Rickham smiled sheepishly. “I have been doing R&D since I was in my twenties. Kept that thing mostly out of sentimental value and habit. It was my father’s. I don’t really practice medicine anymore, so there was no need to get an updated bioscanner.”
John turned toward the putative Elena and raised the bioscanner. He set it for a complete physio-genetic snapshot scan. That setting was generally used for detecting mutational anomalies in vict
ims of prolonged radiation exposure. John, however, knew Elena’s physical and genetic scan patterns as well as he knew his own face in the mirror. He had been her physician for years and could picture her scans clearly enough to have drawn them by hand.
Once the combination scan was complete, John plugged the Lifetex unit into the data port at one of the table’s built-in terminal stations. The data was quickly converted and displayed in full graphic and numerical formats on the screen in front of him. Dizziness swam through his mind as John dropped into the empty chair at the table.
“This is Elena,” he announced loudly enough for all to hear.
For a few moments, all he could do was sit there, staring at the scans and shaking his head. It defied all logic and reason. John’s own mind was reeling. Had he imagined her death? Had he been drugged into believing it? If so, how did that explain Molon seeing it as well? John cleared his throat and struggled to once again find his voice.
“I don’t understand how, but she is my wife.”
“Whoa, Doc,” Molon interjected from the far end of the table. “Wouldn’t a clone also register as biologically identical?”
“Yes and no.”
John looked up from the scan results to face Molon.
“The DNA of a clone would read the same, but not the experiential physiological markers. A DNA sample can only take a cellular snapshot of what a person was ideally, biologically designed to be. It can’t capture the physical, non-genetic changes that happen after a person is fully formed.”
“So you’re saying,” Molon asked, “that this scan can tell you her life story?”
“Sort of,” John mused, still mulling through things in his mind as he rattled off a textbook explanation as if he were giving a genetics lecture. “A person’s white blood cells, immunological profile, bone structure, cellular degradation, all add up to a genetic fingerprint of a person’s life that goes beyond their genetics. Two clones, or even two identical twins, that had lived for a number of years in different places would be distinguishable by their physiological biometric markers.
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