“Not with my students,” Marten protested. “Although I get the feeling they wouldn’t object.”
“I couldn’t read Narina’s body language, but you might be right about Suzanne. You behave yourself.”
“No worries there. In fact, I used you as an excuse to get rid of them. Sometimes it’s embarrassing. I sort of understand Suzanne’s reaction—to her I’m exotic, although there are plenty of male timoan students. Not sure about Narina though.”
“Does she know your background?”
“Not from me, but I suppose it’s somewhat public knowledge. Timoan who stowed away on one of the first visiting starships as a kit, partially raised by humans, and as much or more time off-planet as almost any other timoan. I think I see what you’re getting at. I must seem like some kind of bold adventurer.”
Roberts grinned. “They haven’t seen you in zero gee.”
“Hey!”
“But other than that, I’ve seen you take care of yourself. I’m not complaining.”
“So,” she said, changing the subject, “last meal together for a while. And speaking of, I am kind of hungry. What’s good?”
∞ ∞ ∞
What was good turned out to be food not too unlike traditional English pub grub. In Jackie’s case, it was a bowl of a meaty stew with local root vegetables, washed down with a mug of the pub’s own brew.
“Where are you headed next, Jackie?” Marten asked.
“I’ll go where the cargo takes me, if the port here has anything,” she said. “But Bill at the cargo office is checking for anything for Skead, at Tau Ceti. Home, as much as any planet is. What are your plans?”
“I have courses to teach, so I won’t be going off-planet for a while. I’m still working through the collection of artifacts that Carson and I gathered at Zeta Tucanae over a year ago. There’s a remote chance I’ll get back there again for a follow up during mid-semester break, if I can work it out with the department.”
“That’s about two weeks each way from here. How long a break do you get?”
“Not that long, which is why I’d have to work it out. Some of my classes would need to be covered for a few weeks, especially if I want to do more than just turn around and come back when I get there. But I can do a lot of the other work during the trip. Journals to read, papers to write, that sort of thing. More likely, though, I’ll be here until end of semester.”
“Well, if you need a ship and a pilot . . . .”
“You’d be at the top of my list, Jackie. But Kangara has an S-class of its own, and there’s usually a charter available at the port. There aren’t a lot of timoan-owned ships—”
“I’m surprised there are any,” she said, and grinned.
“Not everyone reacts to zero-gee the same way I do, and there’s no prohibition on us owning ships, although I suppose the Velkaryans would like to change that. Anyway, university rules require preference given to them if available. That might have been one just leaving when we came in.”
“No problem. I understand.”
The relationship between timoans and humans was a strange one. While contact with most mainland timoans was deliberately limited, the planet had been discovered early in the history of human exploration. Epsilon Indi was only a dozen light years from Sol, so there had been plenty of “cultural contamination” before the UdT had started imposing rules about contact with sentient extra-terrestrials. Not that those rules were easy to enforce.
The Clarkeville settlement on Borealia, an isolated landmass about the size of Great Britain or New Zealand some forty kilometers from the mainland at its closest, was both an experiment and a compromise. Timoans had the opportunity to interact with humans and learn from them, and humans could observe an alien species up close and learn from it. Any “contamination” was confined to the island. Timoans were free to travel to the mainland, but the nature of timoan society made it hard to reintegrate. They could take their knowledge but not the hardware. The native culture could still progress at an accelerated rate with that knowledge, but when you had to make the tools to make the tools to make the tools, the rate was easier for the locals to assimilate. Or to reject, if they felt so inclined.
Dinner over, Roberts and Marten said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. The sun, Epsilon Indi, was just sinking below the western horizon as Jackie reached the spaceport. She checked the Sophie’s communications console for any messages, not expecting any unless the port master had come up with a cargo for her. It turned out that he had. Mostly small packages, from his message. It must have been collecting for a while.
She acknowledged his message and then set the Sophie’s perimeter alarm and secured the ship for the night. Local time was still relatively early evening, but her personal schedule was off. She hit the fresher for a quick shower and then retired to her bunk. She would lift for Tau Ceti in the morning, as soon as she got her cargo loaded.
CHAPTER 7: CUNEIFORM
Carson
Ten days ago: Homeworld Security conference room
BROWN PEERED INTENTLY at Carson. “You’ve seen glyphs like these before? Where? The pyramid?”
Carson shook his head. “No. During our meeting with Ketzshanass. I caught a glimpse of his communicator screen while we were talking. It wasn’t long enough for me to get a good look, but I had the same impression of cuneiform that I get from this.” He looked up at Brown. “Sumerian was never my strong suit. If it is cuneiform, any idea what it says?”
Brown shook his head. “Not mine either, but we have translation programs. If indeed it is translatable. What would the Sumerian be for ‘airspeed’ or ‘frequency’, for example?”
“That’s a good question. And, of course, the language might be completely different, but using similar symbols.” He flipped through the images on the pad. Most of them were relatively unremarkable pieces of metal, some with attached conduit or wiring. Only a few had markings that might be writing.
“Come to think of it,” Carson said, “neither Jackie nor Marten mentioned seeing anything in the way of signs on the halls or doors of the Kesh ship. You’d think there’d at least be deck numbers or something.” Carson himself hadn’t seen the interior of the Kesh pyramid ship, he’d been aboard the Velkaryan ship at the time. It was Jackie Roberts and Marten, Carson’s timoan archeologist colleague, who had been taken aboard the Kesh ship. They’d discussed what they’d seen on the trip back from Zeta Reticuli.
“How many decks did they see?”
“I think just the one, now that you mention it. The trip to Jackie’s ship was in some kind of elevator. But the ship was huge enough to have plenty of decks.”
“So, maybe they color code them.”
Carson couldn’t see an obvious flaw in that, but it didn’t feel right. He held up the data-pad. “Is this all they found?”
“So far. The Belize government has declared the site off-limits to everyone, and there’s a British marine archeology team negotiating for access. Guatemala is of course laying claim to the find, but nobody takes that seriously.”
Guatemala had been claiming Belize as Guatemalan territory off and on just about forever, although mostly that just made things difficult for archaeologists wanting to work Mayan ruins on both sides of the border. Guatemalan border guards were again being picky if your passport showed you’d been in Belize.
“Okay. Well, let’s get whatever we can, and get as much of this text or whatever it is to analyze. If it is Kesh, I wonder how much the language has changed in the last thousand years.”
“Perhaps not much if they’re still using cuneiform. Was there any sign of that in the Chara pyramid?”
“No, at least not that I noticed. The language there was more pictographic, intended to be easily understood. Besides, the pyramid predates the Kesh by a few thousand years.”
“Well, that’s what they’d like you to believe, anyway.”
Carson shook his head. “You’re as paranoid as Ducayne.”
“Occupationa
l hazard, I’m afraid.”
CHAPTER 8: REPORT RECEIVED
Vaughan
Two weeks ago: Church of Divine Stellar Providence HQ, Earth
EXECUTIVE PROJECTS DIRECTOR Lancaster Hubble sat at the head of the polished stone conference table, idly examining one the spiral fossils embedded in the Marston Magna marble, as he pondered the report they had just received from the Carcharodon and their man Klaus Vaughan. There had been surprises. The damned complications were getting as convoluted as that ammonite shell.
“Help me be clear on this, Blomberg” he said. “The message was sent from, Tanith, was it?”
“Yes, in the 82 Eridani system,” Samuel Blomberg, his deputy director, said.
Hubble knew where Tanith was. He let it slide. “Then he sent it, what, a bit over two weeks ago?”
“That’s right. It just came in on the migration ship Mayflower.” That ship did a regular Earth-Tanith run, roughly once a month.
“So, the Carcharodon must have departed Zeta Reticuli how long before that?”
“Two weeks for that too, at least.” Blomberg said. “Add a couple of days to synch up with the Mayflower’s schedule.”
“What about our friend Hannibal Carson? If he left Reticuli at the same time, when would he have got back to Sawyers World?”
“About now, give or take a few days.”
That wasn’t as bad as Hubble had feared. Vaughan’s report had mentioned city ruins at Zeta 1 Reticuli, something technological. If Sawyer had been back for several weeks, Quentin Ducayne’s people would have an expedition already on the way there. “Assume that Homeworld Security also knows about the city remains at Zeta Reticuli. Probably in a lot more detail than we do.” Hubble wanted that information. The city, perhaps the entire system, could be a source of useful technology. “Maybe we should arrange a talk with Carson.”
“Why would he want to talk to us?” Blomberg asked.
“I didn’t say we would invite him to tea,” Hubble said, putting an edge of sarcasm into his voice.
“Oh. Of course. Maybe we can use Roberts as leverage.”
That was a possibility, Hubble thought. Carson had made enough trips with Jackie Roberts that there was probably more than a business connection. “If she’s still on-planet. Charter captains don’t hang around.”
“We’ll look into it.”
“Good,” Hubble said. That was one thing settled, for now. “Now, about Vaughan. He wants to hang around on Tanith for a while and, as he put it, ‘reinvigorate the local office’. Something about increasing recruiting and getting more of our people into local politics. That could be an advantage, but it would be useful to have him back in New Toronto too. And we could communicate better with him there.”
“What about this artifact he mentioned?”
That was another complication. Shortly after arriving on Tanith, Vaughan had heard of an alien artifact being offered up for sale on the local black market. Not just old stone pots or a sculpture, but something that sounded high-tech. If it really was such an artifact, the Velkaryans were interested. But as far as anyone knew, Tanith had never had natives. Hubble was skeptical.
“A little sketchy on the details,” he said. “Vaughan can retrieve it if he really thinks it’s interesting, but it could just be some tomb raider running a scam. More trouble for them if so, but Vaughan’s probably not his target.”
“Or it could be a legitimate find. Tanith hasn’t been well-explored. Or . . . .”
“Or what?”
“Suppose somebody brought the artifact from the Zeta Reticuli system?”
Hubble shook his head dismissively. “Vaughan considered that and discounted it. The timing would also be a wild coincidence.”
“Fair enough. But given the city there, expanding our influence in the 82 Eridani system could be a strategic advantage.”
“It also sounds like a lot of effort, but go on.”
Blomberg explained. “Delta Pavonis is well placed; it’s equidistant from Sol and Zeta Reticuli, but it’s off-axis.”
“Meaning what?”
“It’s not in-line between here and there. There’s about a thirty-degree dog-leg.”
“And 82 Eridani is better positioned?” Hubble asked.
“It’s also roughly equidistant and dog-legged, but in the other direction. Delta Pavonis and 82 Eridani nicely straddle the line between Sol and Zeta Reticuli, although they’re some distance apart.”
“Then you think it’s worth investing some strategic assets on Tanith, or in the system?”
“I do,” Blomberg said, nodding once. “It’s terraformed, has a lot of in-system resources, and no indigenous alien population. It’s been settled long enough to have a manufacturing base. Not like Sawyers World or Verdigris, but it’s getting there.”
“You’re starting to interest me. No natives is a plus.”
“It’s also a designated emigration destination. If it looks good, we can slip some of our folks into the pipeline. Less obvious than using our own ships.”
Hubble nodded. “I like the way you’re thinking on this. Very well, while Vaughan is checking into that artifact, he can also pursue that. Have him continue to work with our office there, and I want to see a report on possible changes to Operation Jade Ribbon because of this.”
“I’ll get right on that.” Blomberg scribbled something on his data pad.
“How long to get those orders to him? Two weeks?”
“And a few days. The Mayflower is usually a day in turnaround, and it just landed this morning.”
Hubble considered this. There was another option. “And if we use the Communicator and send it via Delta Pavonis?”
“That’s also two weeks; Verdigris is almost as far from Tanith as we are, but with less scheduled traffic between them.”
“All right. A couple of days won’t make much difference.”
“What about the damage the Carcharodon took?”
“What about it?” Hubble asked.
“Well, Vaughan’s report suggests a beam weapon. Certainly, Roberts’ ship isn’t mounting anything like that. The aliens?”
“Odd that they would shoot the Carcharodon, then let it go unharmed.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Blomberg hesitated, then said, “Another Eridani incident, do you suppose?”
“Eridani? Explain.”
“The original Chinese expedition, fifty years ago. There was a rumor that one of their ships was attacked by something with a beam weapon.”
“A rumor denied by the Chinese.” Hubble, like most people who even knew or still cared about it, assumed it had been a cover story to save face after an accident, a cover story quickly dropped because it was potentially even worse than the truth. “There have also been rumors of little green men, aliens mutilating cattle, and ghosts. That’s not much to go on.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Have Vaughan take samples of the damaged material, if he hasn’t already had everything repaired by the time he gets the message. Maybe our labs can find something interesting.”
“I’ll do that,” said Blomberg, making a note on his pad.
“Good. Are we done with Vaughan’s report?”
“I think so.”
“All right then. Next order of business, Operation Piranha. The Venezuelan election . . .”
CHAPTER 9: OLD RECORDS
Carson
Four days ago: Homeworld Security, Ducayne’s Office
QUENTIN DUCAYNE HANDED a data-pad to Hannibal Carson, with a document open on its screen, it looked like an official report of some kind. “Read this, tell me what you think.”
“What is it?” Carson asked, taking the pad. “And why not just send it to me?”
“It’s classified. I didn’t even know about it until recently. Just read it.”
Carson scanned the text.
“Unconfirmed observation report,” it began. “Elizabeth Sawyer, then Captain of the USS Anderson in charge of the Pla
net Able landing team—”
“Elizabeth Sawyer?” Carson looked up at Ducayne in surprise. “The Captain Sawyer?”
“Do you know of another Sawyer who led the Anderson team and who this planet is named after?”
“No. So, this is what, fifty standard years old?”
“Which is why it came to my attention. Its classification was just lowered. Keep reading.”
“—reported sighting an unknown and unidentified, but apparently intelligent, biped creature about one kilometer from the Anderson landing site. She was alone at the time, and had gone out to check and replace a non-functioning observation camera. There were no recordings of the sighting because of the camera’s offline state. Sawyer reported that an attempt to observe and record using her omniphone was frustrated by the temporary failure of said omniphone. She refrained from reporting this at the time due to lack of corroborating evidence. This report was passed on to Commodore Drake, then Sawyer’s superior officer, as a classified intelligence briefing upon his follow-up landing in the Endeavour. In Captain Sawyer’s own words:
“I had just replaced the camera and was waiting for my engineer, Maclaren, to verify connectivity. While waiting I noticed movement just beyond a low ridge to the south. There had been terror-bird sightings but none this close to camp. I moved cautiously to the peak of the ridge.
“About fifty meters beyond it a figure was standing, on two legs. I knew that none of the other crew were in the vicinity. I considered the possibility that it was a descendent of the toolmakers, since we had already discovered old obsidian spear-points. It was grayish brown in color, but details were hard to make out at the distance involved. It did not seem fur covered. It turned toward me, as though it had heard me, and a frill or crest rose on its head. The crest resembled feathers, like a cockatoo’s, but it was hard to tell. The forelimbs were arms rather than wings. It held something in its hands.
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