by A. K. DuBoff
“The Archive does not hold all the answers. The threat of the Erebus has made this a time for action, but we have not seen you prepare.”
“No disrespect, but you don’t see everything I do.”
“We do not,” Dahl conceded, “but we know what we would expect to have observed on the Taran worlds if you were already doing everything within your power.”
I can’t win with them. They had regularly professed to Wil how they would defer to his leadership, but now they were criticizing him for not doing things the way they wanted. If they have such strong opinions, they should do all of this themselves!
He never wanted the responsibility that had been thrust on him.
“What, specifically, do you believe I should be doing that I’m not?” Wil asked.
“The Erebus can’t be trusted,” Jayne replied, “and yet you have embraced their offer as if it is a genuine gift.”
Wil sighed. “I know, it does seem like that, but I haven’t.”
“You have plans to disseminate the technology to the Taran worlds.”
“We first examined it and built it ourselves. It’s safe.”
Dahl exchanged glances with the other Oracles. “We are not convinced it is.”
“What did you find in your own analysis?”
“Nothing that would indicate it is something other than what it appears to be.”
“So what makes you question it?”
“We have foreseen it in the pattern,” Dahl replied. “Have you not?”
“There’s no way around the fact that we need this solution.”
Jayne studied him. “It doesn’t strike you as strange that the Erebus show up with this remarkable offer at the moment MPS’ weakness comes to light?”
“Oh, yes, nothing about it sits right. Not one bit.”
“Just because there doesn’t appear to be anything nefarious about the tech, that doesn’t mean it is safe,” she said.
“I know. And I’ll again ask, what do you want me to do differently? You’ve asked me, repeatedly, to follow my instincts and insist I’ll know what to do in the moment. But now you’re questioning me. This doesn’t work both ways. Either you want me to take the lead and trust me, or you don’t. If it’s the latter—”
“We do trust you,” Dahl interjected. “And we understand your reasoning. We do not mean to question your actions so directly.”
“Then why am I here?” Wil was sick of dancing around the point.
“There are precautions that could be taken, as a contingency for if our respective worries about the Erebus’ technology come to pass,” Jayne stated.
He spread his hands wide. “I’m completely open to ideas.”
The Oracles’ eyes narrowed slightly in response to his somewhat brusque attitude, but Wil had exhausted his patience for the matter. Discourse, negotiation, planning. He would happily engage in lengthy conversations with the Aesir about the finer points of their technology policy. However, if they had a clear notion about how they wanted him to do something, then they should just say it. The endless riddles and deflection had worn him down. Perhaps this wasn’t the best moment to voice that frustration, but it had come out all the same.
Jayne waved her hand, and the holoprojector integrated into the conference table sprang to life. She navigated to a map of the Taran Empire, noting the locations of the various inhabited worlds. “The Empire’s territory is vast, but technological convenience overrides the safety offered by distance.”
Wil nodded. “True, it’s only a short hop to neighbors hundreds of light years away.”
“Helpful if you are in a position to aid. Catastrophic in the face of aggression.”
He wasn’t sure where she was going with the explanation, but it was sounding dire.
“We’ve seen what these Erebus, as you call them, can do,” she continued. “They can impact vast areas, but all beings have limits. The greater the reach, the more protected we will be.”
“How does that factor into future plans?” Wil asked. “We can’t very well move Taran-occupied planets to be further apart.”
“No, the only thing you can control is where you install the alien technology.”
“You propose only deploying it on select worlds, spaced apart, so if there is a surreptitious capability, its coverage won’t be complete,” Wil surmised.
“Yes.”
“I understand the reasoning, but that’s not a realistic solution. How could we possibly explain why some worlds are receiving such a massive security upgrade while others don’t?”
“We don’t involve ourselves in Taran politics,” Dahl reiterated.
“Right, of course.” Give advice impossible to execute and step away.
Wil had heard enough. “Thank you for the suggestion to pursue discussions with the Lynaedans. We’ll look into that. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about while I’m here?”
“You seem upset,” Jayne said.
There was no sense denying it. The Oracles were all powerful telepaths, and Wil would have a difficult time masking his true feelings even if he’d been making a concerted effort to do so. He’d learned long ago that being open with them was the safest policy. Unfortunately, what he had to say now would not be well received.
“It goes without saying that we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye on all matters, but I like to think we’ve developed a good working relationship over the decades. However, compared to the other professional relationships I’ve had during that time, I don’t feel like there’s the same level of mutual trust here.
“Maybe it’s because I’m so young compared to you—since your lives are measured on a scale unheard of in the rest of the Taran sphere. Or maybe it’s an issue with me and my continued ties to the rest of the Empire. No matter the cause, it’s frustrating to simultaneously be told that you are looking to me for guidance but then second-guess my every move.
“I don’t have a suggestion for where to go from here, but I think something needs to change or these ideological divides will continue to grow.”
Wil sat back in his chair, studying the expressions of those in the room. There was a hum of telepathic conversation flitting between them, though they gave no outward indication of what they were discussing or how they felt about his statements.
At last, Dahl spoke, “We appreciate your honesty. We will consider how best to proceed.”
“Thank you.” Wil didn’t have much hope for a major shift in the nature of their relationship, but at least he’d said what he wanted to say. He placed his hands on the table, prepared to leave. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I’d like to get home so I can get back to work.”
Chapter 5
Since joining the Sovereign Peoples Alliance on his undercover mission, Leon Caletti’s mood had been in a constant state of flux between boredom, disgust, and concern. As he faced yet another bland meal with his fellow investigators, looking forward to nothing but mundane tasks and irritatingly vague conversation, he knew that their days were numbered.
He plopped down his tray on the table and sat down across from Lexi, while Kira took the seat next to him. “Pleased to see they mixed it up with the orange gruel today.”
Lexi poked at it with her spoon. “So deliciously cheerful.”
Kira shrugged and dove in. “May as well get it over with as fast as possible.”
“Yes.” Leon took up his utensils. “And not just this meal.”
The Alliance was no doubt up to shady business, and he disliked the idea of helping them in any way. However, he acknowledged that the Empire’s law enforcement authorities needed solid evidence of wrongdoing in order to interfere in the private affairs of citizens. They were running out of time to get that information.
His fiancée, Kira, had been perhaps too eager to take on the covert assignment to aid in the investigation, but she’d always been one to run headlong into danger. He’d loved that about her when they’d met as teenagers on Valta, and he’d missed it greatly during
their decade apart after she’d left without warning to join the Guard. When they’d reconnected a few years ago, he’d vowed to follow her anywhere so long as it meant never being separated again. Though he’d never expected that pledge to lead him into an undercover assignment like this, he had to admit it was a lot more thrilling than his years spent in a windowless research lab as a geneticist.
Nonetheless, his time in the Alliance had worn his patience thin. We’re not going to learn anything sitting here. Either we start asking the serious questions or we go home. Anything else is pointless.
Kira met his gaze for a moment, gleaning his thoughts from the surface of his mind. “I know. I think we’ll have an opening soon,” she replied telepathically.
Lexi leaned forward toward him. “Have you heard anything else about the new research thing?”
“Not yet.”
Kira frowned. “As Leon has expressed to me, I think we’re well past the ‘listening’ stage.”
“We’ve been over that possibility and decided it was too dangerous,” Lexi whispered.
“That was before.”
Leon nodded. “I can try to push the issue with the researchers. No guarantees I’ll get anywhere.”
“Better to try than not,” Kira insisted.
They quickly finished breakfast—no need to savor the food—and then parted ways to go to their respective stations. Leon’s assignment kept him in one of the building’s basement rooms most of the time. Though referred to as ‘the lab’, the space lacked any equipment to make it suitable of the moniker. The other scientists on the team came from varied backgrounds and seemed equally hindered by the barebones facility. It’d been a revolving door of personnel, some sticking around for mere days while others had remained for a few months before disappearing. He wasn’t sure why there had been such high turnover; perhaps some people hadn’t demonstrated the skills the Alliance was looking for. Whatever he was doing, it seemed to be meeting their expectations.
To the dungeon cell, Leon thought as he entered the cramped lab.
It really did feel like a prison. They were being held, as a personnel resource, until they were needed—or deemed unworthy.
Let’s see if we can move up that timeline for when I can be useful.
He didn’t have many opportunities to interact with the management level of the Alliance, but every few days, Leon had seen his lab’s supervisor, Claire, meet with the manager for his division—a beady-eyed man in his late-forties with brown, thinning hair. Based on Leon’s observations, today should be one of their check-ins. If he timed it right, he could arrange a casual hallway interception just after the management meeting wrapped up.
Sure enough, an hour shy of lunch, Leon noticed Claire get up from her desk and go meet the senior manager in the hallway.
As silly as it seemed, Leon decided a fake restroom break would be the easiest cover. He knew the check-in meetings lasted about five minutes. That corresponded well with the typical roundtrip time from the lab to the restroom. So, as soon as Claire left, he followed.
Rather than actually going upstairs to use the facilities, he instead ducked behind a corner and tried to listen in, waiting for his opening. Frustratingly, he was just beyond earshot of the conversation, only picking up the occasional word or phrase; nothing useful jumped out.
Worse, the conversation was running long. By the seven-minute mark, his cover story was starting to look like it would need an adjustment to account for the delay.
Come on, wrap it up! he silently urged them.
The conversation continued in serious, hushed tones.
Leon checked the time on his handheld. More than eight minutes had elapsed; his coworkers would likely be wondering what was taking him so long.
Finally, the meeting wrapped up. Claire headed back into the room while the senior manager began walking in Leon’s direction.
Leon quickly ran back several meters, traveling partway up the stairs, and then began casually descending the staircase as if just returning.
The manager barely glanced at Leon as he approached. That wouldn’t do; he needed to strike up a conversation.
No opening words came to mind, and Leon’s timed opportunity was about to expire. For lack of a verbal solution, he made a split-second decision to bump into the man at the bottom of the staircase, feigning distraction by his handheld.
With the skill of someone who was, in reality, quite nimble, Leon judged the contact and then collided with the manager just hard enough to call attention without causing injury.
“So sorry!” Leon exclaimed, slipping his Alliance-issued handheld back into his pocket. “It’s easy to get lost in these scientific papers.”
The man’s severe brows softened. “Oh, you’re one of the specialists?”
That went surprisingly well! Leon nodded. “Yes, genetics. My supervisor asked me to review some articles on the genetic component of Gifted abilities.”
“Interesting stuff.” The manager made to walk away.
Leon wasn’t about to let the chance slip by. He went for it, all-in. “I heard you were looking for volunteers to help out with a new research initiative?”
“A call for volunteers? No. Where did you hear that?”
“Oh, uh, from a friend in the recruiting department. He thought it was the sort of thing where I could help.”
“Why’s that?” the man asked.
“I’ve conducted research on the biological components of extrasensory abilities and the transdimensional aspects of telepathy.”
The man pulled out his handheld. “What did you say your name was?”
“I hadn’t introduced myself, sorry. My name is Leon. Leon Caletti.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, scrolling through information on his handheld. “You have quite an impressive résumé. A doctorate in genetics? I don’t recognize the school, though.”
“University of Mysar, yeah. My home system was only brought formally into the Empire a couple of years ago. It’s pretty remote.”
“Ah, I see. It seems like you’ve worked on a lot of different types of research nonetheless.”
Most of it isn’t even in this document. Leon had to be careful what information he shared, since his most recent work had all been as a civilian contractor with the Tararian Guard. That wasn’t a connection he wanted anyone in the Alliance to make.
Leon shrugged off the manager’s statement. “Oh, I haven’t done anything all that exciting. I’m just eager to put my skills to use for something other than pointless lab experiments that go nowhere.”
“Well, like I said, we’re not looking for volunteers for anything right now.”
“Sure. Sorry for bothering you.” Leon turned to go, not wanting to press his luck.
“Hey, if you have a minute…” the man began.
Ah, here we go. Leon spun back to face him. “Sure.”
“I’d like to get your thoughts on a model.”
“I’m happy to take a look.”
The manager beckoned for Leon to follow him. To Leon’s surprise, the path took them upstairs to the top level of the Alliance’s building. He’d never been beyond the second floor, where the bunkrooms were located. He’d heard from others that there were administrative levels higher in the structure, though the rigid separation between the organization’s different divisions meant that the area was off-limits. This invitation into the restricted floors might yield valuable insights.
Like the common areas below, the top level was furnished with simple, second-hand items, though the material quality was noticeably better.
Naturally, the leaders take the nicest things for themselves.
Given that observation, it was no surprise when they passed by several offices with glass walls along the hallway and expansive city views out the exterior windows. By contrast, his own bunkroom had a view of the dumpsters in the back alley.
The manager stopped at one of the well-appointed offices and motioned Leon inside. “Let me pull it up. Have a seat
.”
Leon waited patiently until the manager activated a portable holoprojector above the desktop, displaying a series of genetic models and other data that wasn’t immediately discernable. He sat studying it for a long moment, waiting for the relevance to become clear.
“Is this genetically keyed tethering?” Leon asked at last.
A small smile touched the manager’s lips. “Yes.”
Leon looked over the information with greater interest. He’d heard theories about genetic tethering but had never seen a successful model presented. The practice was quantum entanglement, of sorts, linking two biological entities. As he understood it, the bond between Gifted people operated on a similar principle, though no one had been able to definitively present scientific documentation for precisely how it worked. The genetic tethering was a more exact science, using established cellular energy signatures as markers for the targeting.
What he saw on the screen, however, went beyond the hypothetical scenarios he’d seen modeled in research journals. This had markings of cellular infiltration and attack.
“This is quite a proposal,” Leon said, not sure why he was being shown such sensitive information.
“You understand what you’re looking at?”
“I believe so. Using a genetic tether as a delivery mechanism for a larger bio-hack.”
The manager nodded, not giving a clear indication if it was the correct answer. “Thank you for coming by. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
What? That’s it? Leon rose from the seat and bowed his head. “No problem. Let me know if you need anything else.”
He returned to the lab, taking a slow pace to absorb as many details as he could about the offices. Little information of potential use was out in the open, but he spotted a couple of printed maps hung on a wall that seemed to indicate a sort of underground facility.
The rest of the day passed at an excruciatingly slow pace as he waited to share his findings with Kira. It wasn’t until after dinner that the two of them were able to slip out for a quick ‘check that no one took down the Alliance recruiting posters’ patrol so they could speak freely.