The woman ran a casual hand through her matted hair, trying to draw attention to how greasy it was. Makaio decided she was trying too hard. The whole meeting felt contrived. She was a fake. Worse yet, she was making sure he knew she was a fake, as if she didn’t trust him to be smart enough to catch on and see through her disguise. She said, “A little bird told me you might be eating here. Can I join you?”
Derek grunted non-committedly, “Free Galaxy.”
The woman seemed more concerned with Makaio, but took Derek’s invitation as acceptance from the two of them. As she sat, Makaio commented, “We were just saying this station isn’t exactly known for its shopping variety. Wouldn’t say it’s known for its wildlife, either.”
“You might be surprised.” She reclined back, assuming an easy-mannered persona that didn’t quite ring true. There was a tension clinging to her muscles, as if ready to run at any moment.
But even that felt faked. She was keeping this double-bluff going well. A professional pretending to be an amateur pretending to be someone from the station. ‘She probably had a future as an actress, if she stopped doing stupid things like whatever she was doing here.’ He said, “I doubt it. Birds never have much to say, from my experience.”
“Maybe you don’t listen hard enough. The one I talked to suggested you and your friend here were headed for Helix and the THI research station that was plunked down on their second moon.”
Derek let his surprise show, “That’s a hell of a lot more than our names.”
The woman shrugged. “The galaxy isn’t free for everyone. Sometimes, a few extra marks in the right hands can make a bird sing a little happier. I happen to represent a competing interest in the same game as THI who can provide someone like you with quite a few of those marks. I know you two must be good Navy men, and I wouldn’t ask you to betray that. But what I’m asking you wouldn’t dent the armor of your precious ships or cost a single life. This is a commercial feud. You just happen to be able to help.”
‘Industrial espionage?’ Makaio thought to himself. ‘Here? Sure, Z-16 is in between the heavy industry belt and Helix, but was she really just waiting for the right pigeon to show up here?’ Unable to voice his concerns across to Derek, Makaio returned her shrug with an expansive roll of his shoulders. “This whole thing sounds like a joke, if you ask me. Maybe we walked onto the wrong holo-vid set? Are we messing up a scene by sitting here?”
“This isn’t a joke, Mister Walker. I’m serious. And my backers could show you how to hide the money, so the Navy would never know to look for it. It would be a nice little nest egg for whenever you decided to walk away from the service. Think about it. You can live on a Navy pension, but it isn’t exactly enough to stride the galaxy looking for adventures. I’ve heard you like expeditions and excitement. This sort of money can make that a part of your future.”
Makaio traded looks with Derek as if considering what she had said. He had run his share of practical jokes. Could this be one of the other cadets who had set this up, taking a little fun and games too far?
Derek gave a tiny shake of his head.
Makaio almost laughed. Of course, they weren’t going to accept! But, nice to know Derek’s moral compass was pointing north. He turned back to the woman, “You paint a pretty picture. Maybe a little too nice. I can’t shake the feeling that at our next meeting, a bunch of idiot friends of mine will be waiting to scream ‘gotcha!’ Tell you what, give me your name and a way to contact you. If I change my mind before I ship out, I’ll let you know.”
The woman released a sculpted smile. “I’m glad you aren’t saying ‘no’ flat out. That would be a missed opportunity. Think about how much I know. Think about the resources it would take to find out about you and your friend here. This offer is for real, and all we would need is a few samples and for you to slip a little dirt into the nice clean THI systems to slow them down while my backers catch up. No-one gets hurt, and you get rich.”
Makaio feigned consideration.
She smiled even wider. “Call me Ivy, and you can reach me on the station messaging system. I’m the only one, and it’s my only name.”
Makaio promised with words but zero excitement, “Maybe we’ll be in touch.”
She pressed herself out of her seat. “Be in touch, Mister Walker. Right now, I’m playing nice. I’m asking. But my employers need this to happen. Think about the people you love before you ignore me.” With that, she slipped out of the restaurant, glancing left and right to see if anyone had taken an interest. Playing her amateur spy routine to the hilt, she vanished up the concourse.
Derek whistled, impressed despite his rejection. “That wasn’t subtle, was it?”
Makaio chewed a lip in thought. “No. No it wasn’t. In fact, that felt wrong from the start. If it’s a joke, then it’s in poor taste considering that dark twist at the end. I can’t believe this. What in our history makes us look like good marks for this sort of thing? I mean, do we look like traitor scum?”
Derek frowned. “If this is a fake, we can ignore it. Let the joke fizzle.”
“There are only four other people on this station who know us well enough to pull off a joke like this. Obviously, Lieutenant Commander Sarlow isn’t doing this. Virri is a wasp. She doesn’t have a sense of humor. That leaves two. So, let’s go drag the two love-birds out of bed. We’ll know right away. If it wasn’t them, at least we’ll have two more brains on this.”
***
Yo Min’s petite body curled up on the couch in the small hotel cabin she had rented with Shawn. Clad in nothing more than her Navy issue sport bra and matching form-fitting shorts, she radiated irritation at having her tryst interrupted. “What you’re missing is that you are both morons. You should have called security instead of trying to play spy!”
Makaio objected, “I didn’t say she was playing spy! I said she could be a spy playing the part of a bad spy for our benefit.”
Derek insisted, “But what we don’t know is why!”
Shawn was stretched out on the bed in his gray uniform undershirt and underwear. He was fully engrossed in the conversation, which only served to annoy Yo Min further. He dove in, “You’re waffling. She’s lying her ass off.”
Derek’s face scrunched up. “What?”
“You already said she was playing a part. Why make this more complicated than it is? If this was for real, they’d approach you, try to buy you off, and be done with it. They wouldn’t send an actress playing a spy playing a bad spy playing a station worker. She suckered you in, because you’re giving her credit for having backers and power and any of that. Stop playing both sides, pretending like she could be for real. The question is ‘why the lie?’ Is this a joke? Or is someone trying to play a different game you haven’t figured out yet? Accept the fact this is not some clumsy attempt at interstellar espionage, and things don’t get much simpler, but the stakes aren’t as high.”
Makaio tripped over his own thoughts, sending them into a massive jumble. When he finally caught his stride again, he fired a look Derek’s way, “Empty shirt?”
Derek shrugged. “I could have been wrong.”
Yo Min objected, “But why play a game like that at all?”
Makaio frowned. “What has she gained? She met us, but we didn’t commit to anything.”
Shawn added, “But she has all but guaranteed you will call her at least once more, if only to laugh in her face. She seems to be gaining time with all of you, for whatever that is worth.”
Derek reminded them, “Not only with us, at least not by design. We were all together until Virri went off to shop and you two came here. She might have wanted time with all of us. Did anyone approach either of you?”
Shawn shook his head, “We came straight here.”
Makaio scowled. “She knew our names. She either found them off the ship’s manifest when we docked here, or someone gave her the information. She knew where we were going, which is a lot harder to figure out. This is pissing me off. So, let’s c
rack it wide open. What would we do if we believed her?”
Derek shrugged, “Go to the authorities?”
Makaio nodded. “Right. Let’s throw it back in her face. She’s a paper tiger. So, let’s open the cage door and watch her get shredded. They’re hoping we will try and play some sort of game. Maybe they want us to incriminate ourselves or do something completely stupid. Instead, we’ll sick the dogs on them and watch them run.”
Chapter 14
“Well then!” The doors to Nearwatch 1’s central lab had not even closed behind Lieutenant Commander Sheffeld when her booming voice was reaching out to shake the students of her research group out of their studies. “Today’s the day!”
As if a few more seconds of fevered typing might save him, Ferris Fulum hunched more deeply over his terminal. His fingers flashed, real sweat beading on his forehead.
Tricia Gavalt drifted by his station and tapped the freeze key on the instructor override window. She crystalized his situation, “Frantic last-ditch efforts don’t mean a lot in here, Mister Fulum. Not after two months of gliding on the low path. Time to face the music.”
His groan might have been the loudest, but it wasn’t the only one heard about the lab. Paula was clearly not happy with the end-state she had achieved, and Nadia looked frustrated. “Another week and I’d have a real contribution!”
Sheffeld was amused, taking the mild whining in stride. Cadets never really changed year to year. She had whined when her own Trip-E time ended before she had saved the galaxy. “If you’re really onto something, I’m sure the experts here will be able to take your ideas and run with them. If you are onto something.” She quirked a look at Tricia to get a feel for what the students had truly accomplished.
Tricia seemed impressed, Ferris perhaps not included. “Don’t let them sell their efforts too short, Lieutenant Commander.” She had been wandering around the lab, and paused now by Johanna. “Wait until you see what Summer has come up with.”
Another might be sensible enough to blush. Johanna merely inclined her head in a polite question, wondering if Sheffeld indeed wanted to start with her.
Sheffeld fought any trace of a smile from her face. After the months of travel and study, the strange distance Johanna Summer always seemed to have from normal human reactions had ceased to be a surprise. “How about we hear what Miz Saltwind is so distraught about having cut short.”
Nadia was not quite as composed as Johanna. She gave her terminal a despondent wave. “There is so much media to cover. I mean, the aliens seem to be as creative as we are. Their entertainment technology is inferior to ours, but their two-dimensional screen-films are like our holovids in nearly…”
Sheffeld’s hand shot up, demanding a pause, “Hold on. You’ve been spending your time watching their movies?”
Tricia didn’t cover her amusement. “I know, I baulked a little when she first made an amendment to her proposal. She started off like you saw in her opening proposal. She studied their visible monuments. She looked at their war memorials. Even did what she could trying to find imagery of Adonlaeydian artwork.” She gestured at Nadia, encouraging her to pick up the argument herself.
The shy cadet found her voice, even if it was still a mouse’s squeak, “Problem was, broadcasts of that sort of thing are rare. How often do you beam about an image of a painting or a monument? We can see top profiles of large structures from satellite imagery top-down, but only certain news broadcasts ever show more. We can’t access their computer networks consistently. Not only is it primitive compared to ours, with incredibly limited wireless connectivity, but we navigate it effectively without knowing their language. So, I wondered how I could get a larger pool of imagery. Then it struck me.”
Sheffeld saw it now. “Watch their movies. But you couldn’t take any of that at face value. Imagine an alien race judging us by our Rubregor series?”
Johanna stepped in, deciding to defend her classmate with calm intellect, “Images can often convey emotions where words are lacking. They are not only creative, but emotive. Their artwork carries a certain fundamental impact, be it joy or tragedy. Once Nadia organized the films, the groupings also helped my work to pinpoint key moments that were trying to convey certain emotions as part of their communication.”
Paula jumped in as well, “We’ve also snagged the information in the historical research department. We’ve confirmed or denied a lot of their society’s history prior to our intervention by using their entertainment media to see their representations of period-attire, technology, and more.”
Sheffeld glanced through the multiple windows into the enclosure. “They wear clothes?” She was trying to picture how a spherically symmetrical arachnid-being could wear a suit.
Ferris slid into the conversation, trying to salvage his reputation. “Accent clothing around their genitalia and jewelry, mostly. But, yes.”
Sheffeld’s mouth opened a little in shock, working soundlessly before getting out, “So, these ones here are -”
Tricia finished for her with a touch of dark humor. “Naked, yes. It may seem cruel, but they have little need for modesty.
Nadia looked uncertain, “From their films, they do seem to have humor and stigmas surrounding full nudity, just like we do.”
Tricia brushed those concerns away with a dismissive wave. “These are all females from their gender tri-system to prevent any procreation. If they are shy when they arrive, they learn not to be.” Whatever genuine concern she had for other humans was completely absent when discussing the alien race. “Certainly, there is very little risk of cross-species embarrassment. I’ve never heard of any humans with an Adonlaeydian fetish, and we would carve anyone displaying such tendencies from the research team as soon as it manifested.”
Again, Johanna remained carefully silent, still not in any position to argue the nature of cruelty being inflicted on those these scientists were not ready to think of as worthy of any rights.
Nadia didn’t notice that undercurrent any more than the others. She simply added, “I’ve been trying to help clarify some of the key elements of their psyche that way. Well, with my limited time, I might only be confirming what is already suspected. For instance, a longing to reconnect with their other home world is an incredibly pervasive element to much of their cinema. So is their hatred of us. We are depicted as everything from kindly god-like beings to hellish demons. The wide variety of forms they give us seems to indicate they know very little about us, though we are invariably bipedal mammals in all of their incarnations of us.”
Marrah raised her hand to draw attention from where she was tucked back into the corner. She had claimed the most private of the terminals early on, if anything could be said to be private in the lab made to examine the aliens from every angle. “They are advanced enough to have directional radio antennas. Can’t they talk to their other world?”
Tricia shook her head. “We jam such signals. That might be hard if we had to prevent any signal from ever leaving the planet. It is easy enough when you know the straight-line path between Taurus A and B. We have no desire for them to coordinate a break-out.”
Sheffeld couldn’t help herself, asking along with the students, “What about their supposed other-sensory perception?”
Tricia clarified, “One of the most commonly misconstrued elements of their nature. They have no ability to perceive anything, even from each other, in what you might think of as real-time, useful information. This connection is emotional in nature, and follows family lines. Kill one, and the brothers and sisters and neuters of that family are all influenced. If you make one mad or happy, then it is but a drop in an ocean. Create a large enough impact on an entire family line, and the resonant wave within that ocean can create a tidal wave. From what we can tell from visual representations of their history, they’ve had both wars and blood-bonds of loyalty that persist for generations because of those waves. But they can’t use it consciously.”
Johanna peered up at her, “So their hatre
d of us will persist far longer.”
Tricia didn’t hear the subtle reproach behind the comment. She heard only the analytical element. “Perhaps. Each year that the blockade exists, that resentment might also deepen, making them even more a danger.”
Paula whistled as the implication hit her. “That would only increase the need for the blockade to continue. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
Tricia replied, “Which only increases the need for us to one day communicate clearly with them.”
Sheffeld gestured toward Johanna, “Any progress on that?”
Johanna paused to evaluate which words would convey an accurate report. “I believe I have resolved the issues.”
Tricia allowed her a forgiving smile. “Remember that progress should never be considered an end-state. I found your reports on added complexity in the Adonlaeydian vocalizations to be intriguing, but you had a long way to go.”
Johanna was confident she was not overstating her status. “I agree, there will be further refinement in the future. I didn’t claim otherwise. But I have resolved the difficulty with comprehension.”
Sheffeld held a hand up to stop Tricia from protesting further. “Go on, cadet.”
Johanna pointed at a nearby display. A few brisk taps on her interface brought up the presentation she had developed. “The complexity of the sounds they make was the key. Any scientist understands the danger of bias, and I realized we had all been biasing our assumptions that vocalizations are equivalent to communication, and that words and dialogue are the most complex problem to be resolved. We decided that crudity of what we were able to translate was our own inability to decipher the patterns of what we were hearing.”
She called up a separate window within the presentation, this one showing a cinematic piece of an Adonlaeydian screaming at the sky in what seemed like anger and loss. Its skin blazed to a luminous blue even in full sun. “On seeing Nadia’s work, I realized that the sub-currents might be an emotive pattern alone. Anger is not anger alone, but a subtle blend of a many emotions. Some of those emotions might even be echoes from their family lines. Conveying all of that information might not leave any bandwidth for rational communication.”
Of Bravery and Bluster Page 12