"Now Gandalf has the report on the Torus
investigation."
The image speaking from the top of Gandalf's screen was
that of John Ilbad, Director of the United Nations
Intelligence Agency, sitting in his office several thousand
kilometers away in the District of Columbia. Below Ilbad
were four other faces, each of which belonged to a UNIA
section chief: Blake from Policing, Othello from
Technologies, Dax from Search, and Agamemnon from Personnel.
Gandalf knew none of them by their real names, and their
precise office locations were just as secret as his own.
Open Section's Chief Investigator cleared his throat.
"This investigation has only been picked up by UNIA in the
last twenty-four hours, so we have no clear conclusions yet.
I'm going to start with a summary of the relevant events to
date.
"During the past three months, there have been several
incidents of burglary at Quintex and Ariane's jointly
maintained robot stations in the Torus. Sixteen of these
stations were raided by unknown parties, and miscellaneous
pieces of electronic equipment stolen. The first incident
was discovered on 12 May, when the supply depot in sector
83225 stopped transmitting its locator beacon. There were
four more incidents in May, six in June, three in July, and
two this month."
He pressed a button to send the relevant data, which
he'd spent the past day organizing, to each of his
colleagues, secretly glad they couldn't see his hand
shaking. This was the biggest thing he'd ever reported on.
"I'm sending a data pouch now. You can see the dates mapped
out on panel one."
"Data on channel two?" asked Dax, tapping at her
console.
"Yes." Gandalf swallowed a stutter and continued. "The
dates marked in red coincide with various sightings of
spacecraft near the stations in question. The clearest
photograph-- you can see it on panel two-- was taken on 7
July by an independent telescope station in sector 88030,
and it clearly shows an Allison Aerospace rocket drive.
We've identified this vessel as the Vicious Guru, registered
to Daniel-Ortiz Noek of Commitment City, sector 76327.
Police records indicate he was reported missing on 9 June of
this year.
"The five other vessels photographed have not been
identified; they're all fairly common loneboat designs in
the Torus. You can see them on panels three through seven.
There have been twenty-one people reported missing in the
Torus since the beginning of May, most of them private
citizens with their own spacecraft. Daniel Noek has had no
recorded contact with any of these people in the past year;
we are still checking into his background.
"The last photographs in this series, panels eight
through twelve, were taken by two Quintex security officers
on 18 August, in sector 94305. They had found that the
sector's supply station had been raided, had examined the
site, and were proceeding away when their radar detected
this ship. Image enhancement produced panels thirteen
through seventeen, in which you can clearly see the Ariane
Odyssey insignia and markings. Ariane has officially stated
that it had no knowledge of any of its shuttles being used
for illicit purposes, and all of its shuttles were accounted
for during that time.
"On 23 August, Io Station picked up two stray objects
in shipping lane Victor 774, identified visually as the
corpses of two Ariane shuttle pilots, Gramble and Millen.
Panels eighteen and nineteen. They had apparently been
killed in vacuum by high-velocity projectile impacts.
Ariane collected the bodies and delivered them to Star
Ithaca, where autopsies were performed. Time of death for
both men was calculated as being sometime on 16 August.
"However, Ariane video and audio records indicate that
they had both been making scheduled stopovers at Mars and
City of Light, sector 04120, through 21 August.
Technologies has checked the surveillance disks--" here
Othello grunted an acknowledgment-- "and confirmed that they
are accurate and have not been tampered with. There are no
other records of these men's whereabouts during that week,
and they were on time for all their scheduled stops.
"This discrepancy has not yet been resolved," he noted,
pausing to sip some water.
"Personnel is still investigating," Agamemnon said to
fill the silence.
Gandalf nodded hastily. "Ariane reported three of its
shuttles missing on the morning of 22 August, when they
failed to report in at their respective waypoints. One of
these was Gramble and Millen's boat. At 1100 hours that
day, an Ariane convoy to the Project Skyscraper site, sector
49903, was attacked by three Ariane shuttles, presumably the
same three which went missing that day. This information
has not been made public.
"Four Ariane defenders were destroyed, five of those
pilots killed, the sixth suffering second-degree burns over
the right half of his body. Two of the eight frigates were
seriously damaged, and an estimated three hundred million
dalen in equipment and supplies was stolen. The attacking
vessels retreated to the dark side of Saturn, where tracking
stations lost them. The six Quintex fighters assigned to
the convoy did not arrive until 1300 hours."
"Scheduling problems?" muttered Blake.
"Presumably," replied Gandalf, pausing for a moment.
He saw his own concern mirrored in Ilbad's face. "The
evening before that, work crews at Skyscraper discovered
that three of its radio modules had been tampered with by
one of the construction droids. The droid destroyed itself
before it could be examined thoroughly. Skyscraper crews
have checked the remaining radio units and certified that
they are clean.
"On the afternoon of 24 August, both Jacob Quinn and
Anthony Galza took open-ended leaves of absence from their
respective jobs. The five Quintex security officers who had
been assigned to the convoy escort, as well as the only
surviving officer from the Ariane detachment, were also
granted leaves of absence that day. At 1030 hours the next
morning, four Quintex loneboats departed from City of Light,
headed for Saturn. Their flight plans indicated they would
be on full burn, one point five gee, for the entire trip.
"At 0045 hours on 26 August, Admiral Harlan Awokih of
UNSF approved a reconnaissance mission to Saturn: one Baylor-
class patrol boat with five Marines aboard. This vessel
was, coincidentally, scheduled to arrive at the same time as
the Quintex-Ariane group. We did monitor an encrypted
transmission from Tony Galza to Fort Appleseed, Mars, half
an hour before that approval was logged.
"At 1515 hours that day, a monitor unit at Skyscraper
exploded, killing one of the workmen. Forensic analysis
indicates that some sort of fusion device was triggered when
the unit was opened. The remaining monitor units have been
checked by Ariane and reported to be clean.
"At 1700 hours the same day, Michael-Tanner Anderson,
one of the Quintex security officers assigned to the
Skyscraper convoy escort, filed a legal suit against Quintex
for breach of contract. He alleges that Jacob Quinn knew of
a possible danger to the escort and neglected to inform the
officers, in direct violation of their terms of employment.
Quintex has made no public comment on the matter, but Search
tells us the corporation is arranging a settlement out of
court.
"Our information on the actual incident at Saturn on 27
August is rather sketchy. It seems clear that Galza called
in a favor from Awokih, and the five ships were planning to
search the dark side of the planet for the four pirates.
For some reason, the pirates left their hiding place and
began running several minutes before the chase group reached
Saturn. Panels twenty through twenty-four describe this."
"Excuse me, Gandalf," said Blake.
Gandalf looked up from his notes hesitantly. "Yes?"
"Sorry to interrupt, but we do know what happened at
Saturn. If I may?"
"How do we know?" queried Gandalf, starting to frown.
Blake cocked his head slightly, as he always did before
launching into a monologue. "Jacob Quinn radioed a report
back to New Montana half an hour ago, just before leaving
Star Ithaca. He used his Etherless unit."
The frown deepened, then disappeared from Gandalf's
face. UNIA had installed an Etherless module into Quinn's
communications valise years ago, after he officially became
head of Project Theory. The Etherless would, when
activated, monitor all transmissions from the comm unit it
was attached to and relay the signal information to
Policing. Policing would then pick up the traffic,
intercept the message, and immediately begin decrypting it.
An Etherless pulse was treated as urgent information.
"I hope you're going to tell me you've spent the last
thirty minutes decrypting it," said Gandalf, somewhat
facetiously.
A smile jerked Blake's mouth to one side momentarily.
"We're getting there. Quintex just upped their encryption
keys to 1024 bits, but it looks like they're still using the
Zimmerman riffs. 'Puter's just chewing on the last segment
now, which is the final image data-- we have the written
accounts already.
"One of the Quintex boats had a hardware failure just
before they reached Saturn, and the AI broke radio silence
to resolve its navigation fix. The pirates picked up the
radio pulse, saw the five ships, and ran. The chase group
pursued. They got a good look at the pirates; the three
Ariane shuttles were there, and a fourth ship. Quinn
included six images; I'm sending the first two on channel
three." His audience blinked as they received the data.
Othello's eyes became dinner plates. "Yeah. At this point,
Quinn, McBride, and Jemison were all convinced they were
dealing with a nonhuman species, and proceeded to follow
Project Theory protocols for first contact.
"The chase group was within a few hundred meters of the
pirates, about eight hundred thousand kilometers away from
Saturn and out of the Solar plane, when the raiders broke
formation. Jemison had transmitted a prime number sequence,
and one of the Ariane shuttles returned the signal and
slowed to intercept the chase group. The airlock on the
shuttle opened, and a man in a spacesuit stepped out.
Quinn's boat was close enough to take this photograph."
A face, grainy but clear enough to be distinguished,
appeared on Gandalf's screen.
"That--" Dax began, then stopped.
Gandalf immediately called up his own files on another
display, and sucked in a breath before meeting Blake's gaze
again. "That's Gramble."
"Gramble was dead," Ilbad said flatly.
"I'll get to that in a minute." Gandalf nodded to
Blake, who continued.
"Fortunately, Quinn recognized the face quickly, and
signaled everyone to back off. Jemison's boat was almost
two hundred meters away when the Ariane shuttle self-
destructed; that's the flash that every scoper in the area
saw. Fusion bloom. Knocked away all the boats in the chase
group, and by the time they had stopped spinning the other
three pirates were gone."
"Gone?" repeated Othello.
"According to Quinn, they couldn't find any trace of
them. Neither could any of the scopers they contacted.
They searched for two days, covered every piece of space
within five A.U.'s, and found nothing. Defenders went into
the rings on Saturn's dark side; nothing there. It's still
a mystery."
"Well, we do know they're aliens." Gandalf nodded
thanks to Blake, who acknowledged with a wink. "You've all
seen the pictures on the news; I've included the originals
from Quinn on panels twenty-five and twenty-six. Apparently
Io Station found this corpse on 28 August, while scanning
the same lane where Gramble's and Millen's bodies were
found.
"All three bodies were at Star Ithaca that day. At
1320 hours, while an autopsy was being performed on the
alien corpse, all contact with the hospital was lost. Tony
Galza had been monitoring the autopsy via satellite, and
immediately ordered Ariane 'fenders to investigate. You
know what they found-- panels twenty-seven through thirty-
three."
"You mean all three bodies are gone," said Dax.
"Along with most of Star Ithaca. And anybody who ever
saw the alien, or Gramble's and Millen's corpses. They were
picked up by a medical shuttle."
"Do you realize what you're suggesting?" Agamemnon
blurted.
"I didn't suggest anything," replied Gandalf, calmly.
"I didn't have to."
The Personnel Chief caught himself, then nodded. "Point
taken."
"This is serious." John Ilbad smoothly took the reins
from Gandalf, who leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "We
know the opinions and speculations which have been making
the rounds, on broadcast news and on the Net. There has
always been tension between Earth and the Torus, and now
there is a very real danger that it will escalate."
"Do we have a line on this?" Dax inquired.
"Not enough time." Blake's expression was half angry,
half apologetic. "All we've got is what Gandalf has
compiled, and Quinn's report. Our Saturn stations weren't
close enough for any detail shots; same with the patrol
boat. The Marines didn't even get to the airlock."
"And no physical evidence on the three corpses."
"Fusion blast. Didn't leave much."
"What's our angle?" Othello asked, directing the
question at Ilbad.
The UNIA Director tapped his desk absently. "Quintex
and Ariane are both victims. From the Torus, it looks like
Quintex is out to get Ariane, with an agenda which supports
Earth. Othello?"
"Quintex engineers the pirate threat to covertly attack
Ariane. They raid their own supply stations to throw off
the scent, then attack the convoy. Why?"
"Something we don't know," offered Agamemnon. "Company
secrets?"
"Maybe," said Othello. "Something important. That
accomplished, they turn the pirates into aliens, and use
Project Theory to force greater UNSF jurisdiction in the
Torus. Nobody suspects anything."
"Gramble?" Blake asked.
"Turncoat. Doubly expendable. Or the loneboat cameras
were rigged. They were Quintex boats, weren't they?"
"Chancy," said Dax.
"Yeah." Ilbad waved off Othello's next comment. "And
since we're not running this show, we can safely discard
that entire hypothesis. Nobody else is going to convince
Jac Quinn to pull a stunt like this." The Director smiled at
Gandalf. "Now, from Earth, it looks like Ariane is trying to
push Quintex out of the game. Dax?"
"Anderson's lawsuit makes Quintex look bad." The blue-
grey eyes stared off into the distance, examining some
faraway scene. "Like they don't respect Torie civil
liberties. People start wondering about the Skyscraper
sabotage-- Quintex had access, and maybe motive. Ariane is
up-and-coming, Torie; and Quintex is Old Earth. Skyscraper
is a big project."
"Why attack their own convoy?" wondered Blake.
"Confusion tactic. Quintex spotted one of their
shuttles near a burgled supply station."
"They killed five men," said Agamemnon.
"Manpower is cheap. Success comes harder. So it looks
like someone's stealing from Ariane. Galza gets his old
friend Quinn to join him on a wild goose chase. He brings
along some Marines to make it look good, and destroys the
evidence before anyone else gets to see it. No bodies, no
ships, but what else could it be?"
"That's pretty bloodthirsty," remarked Blake. "Destroy
an entire hospital?"
"Galza's not a killer," agreed Ilbad. "And he has no
good reason to want Quintex out. Unless this has something
to do with the previously mentioned corporate espionage, of
which we have no knowledge. Unlikely at best."
"Maybe he isn't running the show," said Dax.
"Who, then? Jenny Galza still says grace before every
meal, and Gene Down can't bake a potato without making a
Gantt chart first." Nobody debated Ilbad; he had succeeded
in espionage because he knew most people better than they
knew themselves. "Ariane is more likely to be stupid than
conspiratorial."
"I'll look into it anyway." Dax didn't like anyone
doing her job for her, not even the DI.
"Good. And the vanishing spacecraft?"
"Give me twelve hours," replied Othello.
"Good. In the meantime, we have no reason to
disbelieve that there is a hostile alien presence of unknown
size, strength, and intent, operating in our Solar System.
Regular UNSF patrols will be mobilized and reserve
telescopes will be activated. I'm sure the President will
want to make a public statement this afternoon."
"You realize," Blake mused, "that we could be doing
exactly what Quintex wants."
Ilbad shrugged. "We'll keep intrusions in the Torus to
a minimum. UNSF has agreed to low-profile sweeps, and most
of the work will be done by scopers."
"What about Quinn?" asked Gandalf.
The Director's eyes were cold. "We can't afford any bad
press. He's on his own." A wry smile quickly warmed the
face. "But I wouldn't worry too much about The Old Man."
Anthony Galza had never been overly concerned with
women. He had grown up in an Italy still recovering from
the Red Depression, where the foremost signs of power were
plastic cards and bank statements. Relationships were only
conveniences, or necessities of appearance, or temporary
distractions from the true business of life. Believing all
that he saw, he pulled himself up the ladder of acquisition
for two lonely decades, finally arriving at Ariane Odyssey.
With a firm and promising future secured, he stopped
fighting long enough to survey his existence, and found that
he still wanted. He felt an inexplicable void in his life,
but he could not define its edges or feel out its depth. It
began to gnaw at him, challenging his confidence, contesting
his ability to overcome adversity.
It attacked his happiness. It angered, frustrated, and
confused him. For years he tried to exorcise it, trying
every sort of recreation he could find, devoting to and
detaching himself from a dozen religions in turn, going back
to school twice, burying himself in his work. He found he
could forget or ignore the emptiness well enough, but at the
end of every day, it was waiting for him, ready to prey on
him in that hazy time as he drifted into sleep.
Then one day, without warning, he met a woman named
Jennifer, and the void was gone. He fell in love with her,
and he knew it was right. He married her, and his life was
complete.
For twenty-eight years they were happy partners, in
love and in business; together they built the Ariane empire,
alternately drawing praise and damnation, but always
together. For twenty-eight years, it worked well, and
Anthony thought they would never want again.
Then, while vacationing on Mars, Jennifer saw a mother
and her child playing in the deserts, sunlight bouncing off
the miniature pressure suit, an innocent smile beaming
through the bubble helmet. At that moment, a void appeared
in her life.
Anthony didn't understand, or perhaps he didn't want
to. Conversations, debates, arguments, and outright battles
ensued. The tension came and went, their love being
strained like an elastic band. It was only a matter of time
before it snapped.
He had pulled it that final distance before he left for
Saturn, leaving her in silence, without even a polite
farewell. And she was now repaying him in kind.
"Well?" he snarled at the image on his screen.
The spaceport duty officer had just completed four
years with UNSF, paying off his ROTC debt, and had been
lucky to get a job with Ariane. However, the honor of
speaking to Dr. Anthony Galza was currently overshadowed by
the fear of provoking him. "Our records don't show anything,
sir. I'm still checking with the rest of the spaceport."
Galza took an angry breath and lowered his voice.
"Okay, I want to know as soon as you find out, do you
understand that?"
"Yessir."
"I'm leaving this channel open." He stabbed at the
console, putting the call on hold, and resisted the urge to
put his fist through the wall.
Dammit, Jenny, why'd you have to do this? He stomped
around the small office, taking deep breaths, trying to calm
himself with the sterile scent of the hospital. Jacob Quinn
and his personnel had arrived at Japetus several hours ago.
Galza had made it back to City of Light in silence-- he had
been afraid to ask about Jenny, and it would have taken
hours to get a response anyway. He had settled for sleep
instead.
When he reached City of Light, Gene Down had insisted
on immediate medical treatment. Only after Tony had been
pumped full of sedatives did anybody tell him that his wife
was gone. He felt more frightened than angry by the time
the drugs wore off, but ego prevented him from showing his
fear, and he had more than enough rage to compensate.
For the past hour, he had been radiating fury, burning
a stare into anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path,
snapping rudely at people, gritting his teeth until his jaws
ached. Nobody would get close enough to ask him what was
wrong, but only one person could mollify his present mood
anyhow. If he had allowed himself to think about it, he
might have been surprised by how much he needed her at that
moment.
The console beeped, and he rushed back to meet the
uneasy face of the duty officer. "I'm sorry, sir. Mrs.
Galza seems to have left City of Light."
Anthony took a moment to restrain himself, then asked,
"Where did she go?"
"She didn't file a flight plan, but the deck officer
saw her launching the Stannum Elizabeth."
That was the Galzas' personal yacht, and as such had
been equipped with a number of nonstandard safety features.
"Get the locator telemetry and relay it to Bartholomew
Enninger."
"Yes, sir."
Tony disconnected the call violently, almost breaking
the keyboard. Then he flew out of the office, slamming an
imaginary door, resisted the urge to shove his way through a
crowd of tourists, found the flight deck, screamed orders
until he was hoarse, and finally threw himself into the
cabin of Bartholomew Enninger. A green-on-black display
showed him the location of Stannum Elizabeth, and the
engines whirred to life as he rushed through the pre-launch
checklist.
What a week, he thought, shaking his head morosely.
First I'm chasing pirates. Then I'm chasing aliens. Now
I'm chasing my goddamned wife.
The radio buzzed. He flipped it on and exchanged
confirmations with the control tower. Then the thrusters
belched ionized fire, and he was nudged back into his seat;
then deep black wiped the grey spaceport from his window.
He activated the autopilot with a gentle keypress, closed
his eyes, and tried to imagine happier times.
Every day, when June Bergan walked into the Io Station
cafeteria for lunch, she invariably noticed the dozens of
male heads that turned to follow her. She usually smiled at
a few of them, careful not to appear to flirtatious or
inviting, and sat with some female friends, trying to subtly
inform all present that she was not interested and was not
going to be interested, so just forget it. Most of them got
the message, but that didn't stop them from looking.
Today, however, the mood was different. She stopped
just inside the door when she noticed it: a slight drop in
the noise level. Voices got a touch softer, people made
smaller movements, and-- most of all-- the eyes that
normally waited for her attention now shied away. The big
shuttle mechanic who always grinned that toothy grin barely
glanced at her, then returned to his lunch; it would have
seemed perfectly natural, except that she had never known
him to be so sedate.
As she walked across the room, navigating around tables
to get to the service counter, she felt the coolness even
more strongly. It was nothing really tangible, nothing she
could point to as abnormal or blatantly wrong, but rather a
mass of smaller things which should never have happened at
the same time. People shied away from her, leaned into
conversations instead of looking at her, and paused at
strange places in their speech as she passed. Her
uneasiness had become almost paranoiac when she reached the
counter and recognized a friend.
"Hey, Larry," she said, relieved when her fellow scoper
smiled in return.
"Hi, June." Her relief dissolved with his smile, as his
eyes darted around the room.
The server drew her attention. She ordered a light
lunch and turned back to Larry. "What is going on? I feel
like I've got the plague or something."
He shrugged, fingering the countertop too intently.
"Larry."
"It's that Quintex officer," he sighed, eyes still
downcast.
"Price? What about him?"
Larry half-turned, as if his body were wound up like a
spring and it took great effort to move it any further.
"He's Quintex. Tabowitz left several hours ago."
"Yeah. Galza called him away; he'd finished what he
wanted to do anyway. Your point?" She craned her neck,
putting herself into his field of vision. "You do have one,
don't you?"
"You've been watching the news," he said, almost
whispering, finally meeting her gaze. "A lot of people are
talking. About Saturn. About Quintex."
"Yeah. Talk. That's all it is."
"No, that's not all." The server dropped a sandwich in
front of him, which he snatched up quickly. "Look, I've seen
the way Price acts around you, just be careful, okay?"
June grabbed his arm, preventing him from leaving.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Will you please let me go." His voice was a tight
whisper.
She gripped tighter, and jerked him closer, spitting
her words into his ear. "You know half the men on this
station would love to sleep with me, and I deal with it
pretty damned well, and I am no more interested in Price
than I am in any of them, and nothing is going to happen.
So you tell me why this is such a big jicking deal."
The grimace on his face caused a slight pang of regret.
"Everybody on this station left Earth for a reason. And
everybody here has very good reasons to stay far away from
Earth." He picked at the plastic wrapping on his sandwich.
"Quintex still means Earth to a lot of us."
She was surprised at how much the word stung. "`Us'?
What the hell, I'm not one of you?"
He ignored her. "Project Theory wasn't exactly a
regular contract job. Who knows what else is going on that
we don't know about?"
"That's it?" She almost laughed. "`We don't know'? We
don't know, so we choose to distrust the nearest person who
hasn't signed a loyalty oath? Is this supposed to be
reasonable?"
"It's happening." He wrenched his arm away, rubbing the
place where she had attached her hand. "I think it's
shameful and childish, yes, but I cannot do anything about
it."
A moment passed, as he waited for an assent that the
exchange was over. Once again, the outright absurdity of
the situation hit her, but this time she also realized that
it really was happening, and no effort of hers to offer
rational alternatives would halt it. That thought was both
infuriating and disturbing, but it was no more Larry's fault
than it was her own.
"Go away," she sighed, too angry to offer an apology.
Larry managed one final, sympathetic look. "I'm on your
side, June."
"Thanks. Go away."
He left, and the server dropped a plate in front of
her. She raised a hand, stopping the man before he could
move away.
"Could I get this to go, please?" The server nodded,
produced a styrene box from below the counter, and
skillfully maneuvered her lunch into it. She presented her
ID card, waited as it was scanned and her account debited,
then smiled politely and quickly walked out of the room,
keeping her eyes on the door the entire time. It might have
helped her forget the hostile mood, except that she
continually searched her peripheral vision for the turned
heads and furtive glimpses.
I should tell Price, she thought as she wandered down
the corridor, not sure where she was heading. But the next
suspicious face she saw reminded her of Larry's warning, and
without wanting to, she reconsidered her decision. Reason
managed to drag her back in a flash.
What the hell! She found herself at her quarters,
entered, and locked the door while throwing her lunch on a
table. I am not going to let this happen. Maybe that's
good enough for Larry, but it's not jicking good enough for
me. Everything that Quintex had ever done-- intervening at
Hong Kong in 2002, starting the Automated Support Network,
practicing controlled mining practices-- was more than
enough to warrant trusting them a bit further. But the
devil's advocate within her immediately countered that such
a shining reputation made it the perfect candidate for a
turncoat, and so seeded a dozen other interior debates.
She sighed, absently feeding herself. The alleged
chicken sandwich was inordinately tasteless, and no amount
of mustard seemed to help.
Copyright © 1996 Curtis C. Chen. All Rights Reserved.