A Second Chance at Eden

  ‘What? Do you know what it is?’

  ‘Possibly. Schutz, hang on to my arm, please.’

  The cosmonik came forward and took her left arm. Katherine edged forward until she was almost under the lambent doughnut. She stretched up her right arm, holding out a sensor block, and tried to press it against the doughnut. It was as if she was trying to make two identical magnetic poles touch. The block couldn’t get to within twenty centimetres of the surface, it kept slithering and sliding through the air. She held it as steady as she could, and datavised it to run an analysis of the doughnut’s molecular structure.

  The results made her back away.

  ‘So?’ Marcus asked.

  ‘I’m not entirely sure it’s even solid in any reference frame we understand. That surface could just be a boundary effect. There’s no spectroscopic data at all, the sensor couldn’t even detect an atomic structure in there, let alone valency bonds.’

  ‘You mean it’s a ring of energy?’

  ‘Don’t hold me to it, but I think that thing could be some kind of exotic matter.’

  ‘Exotic in what sense, exactly?’ Jorge asked.

  ‘It has a negative energy density. And before you ask, that doesn’t mean anti-gravity. Exotic matter only has one known use, to keep a wormhole open.’

  ‘Jesus, that’s a wormhole portal?’ Marcus asked.

  ‘It must be.’

  ‘Any way of telling where it leads?’

  ‘I can’t give you an exact stellar coordinate; but I know where the other end has to emerge. The xenocs never called for a rescue ship, Marcus. They threaded a wormhole with exotic matter to stop it collapsing, and escaped down it. That is the entrance to a tunnel which leads right back to their homeworld.’

  *

  Schutz found Marcus in the passenger lounge in capsule C. He was floating centimetres above one of the flatchairs, with the lights down low.

  The cosmonik touched his heels to a stikpad on the decking beside the lower hatch. ‘You really don’t like being wrong, do you?’

  ‘No, but I’m not sulking about it, either.’ Marcus moulded a jaded grin. ‘I still think I’m right about the dish, but I don’t know how the hell to prove it.’

  ‘The wormhole portal is rather conclusive evidence.’

  ‘Very tactful. It doesn’t solve anything, actually. If they could open a wormhole straight back home, why did they build the dish? Like Katherine said, if you have an accident of that magnitude then you devote yourself completely to survival. Either they called for help, or they went home through the wormhole. They wouldn’t do both.’

  ‘Possibly it wasn’t their dish, they were just here to investigate it.’

  ‘Two ancient unknown xenoc races with FTL starship technology is pushing credibility. It also takes us back to the original problem: if the dish isn’t a distress beacon, then what the hell was it built for?’

  ‘I’m sure there will be an answer at some time.’

  ‘I know, we’re only a commercial trader’s crew, with a very limited research capability. But we can still ask fundamental questions, like why have they kept the wormhole open for thirteen thousand years?’

  ‘Because that’s the way their technology works. They probably wouldn’t consider it odd.’

  ‘I’m not saying it shouldn’t work for that long, I’m asking why their homeworld would bother maintaining a link to a chunk of derelict wreckage?’

  ‘That is harder for logic to explain. The answer must lie in their psychology.’

  ‘That’s too much like a cop-out; you can’t cry alien at everything you don’t understand. But it does bring us to my final query. If you can open a wormhole with such accuracy across God knows how many light-years, why would you need a starship in the first place? What sort of psychology accounts for that?’

  ‘All right, Marcus, you got me. Why?’

  ‘I haven’t got a clue. I’ve been reviewing all the file texts we have on wormholes, trying to find a solution which pulls all this together. And I can’t do it. It’s a complete paradox.’

  ‘There’s only one thing left, then, isn’t there?’

  Marcus turned to look at the hulking figure of the cosmonik. ‘What?’

  ‘Go down the wormhole and ask them.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe I will. Somebody has to go eventually. What does our dear Katherine have to say on that subject? Can we go inside it in our SII suits?’

  ‘She’s rigging up some sensors that she can shove through the interface. That grey sheet isn’t a physical barrier. She’s already pushed a length of conduit tubing through. It’s some kind of pressure membrane, apparently, stops the ship’s atmosphere from flooding into the wormhole.’

  ‘Another billion-fuseodollar gadget. Jesus, this is getting too big for us, we’re going to have to prioritize.’ He datavised the flight computer, and issued a general order for everyone to assemble in capsule A’s main lounge.

  *

  Karl was the last to arrive. The young systems engineer looked exhausted. He frowned when he caught sight of Marcus.

  ‘I thought you were over in the xenoc ship.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you . . .’ He rubbed his fingers against his temples. ‘Skip it.’

  ‘Any progress?’ Marcus asked.

  ‘A little. From what I can make out, the molecular synthesizer and its governing circuitry are combined within the same crystal lattice. To give you a biological analogy, it’s as though a muscle is also a brain.’

  ‘Don’t follow that one through too far,’ Roman called.

  Karl didn’t even smile. He took a chocolate sac from the dispenser, and sucked on the nipple.

  ‘Katherine?’ Marcus said.

  ‘I’ve managed to place a visual-spectrum sensor in the wormhole. There’s not much light in there, only what soaks through the pressure membrane. From what we can see it’s a straight tunnel. I assume the xenocs cut off the artificial gravity under the portal so they could egress it easily. What I’d like to do next is dismount a laser radar from the MSV and use that.’

  ‘If the wormhole’s threaded with exotic matter, will you get a return from it?’

  ‘Probably not. But we should get a return from whatever is at the other end.’

  ‘What’s the point?’

  Three of them began to talk at once, Katherine loudest of all. Marcus held his hand up for silence. ‘Listen, everybody, according to Confederation law if the appointed commander or designated controlling mechanism of a spaceship or free-flying space structure discontinues that control for one year and a day then any ownership title becomes null and void. Legally, this xenoc ship is an abandoned structure which we are entitled to file a salvage claim on.’

  ‘There is a controlling network,’ Karl said.

  ‘It’s a sub-system,’ Marcus said. ‘The law is very clear on that point. If a starship’s flight computer fails, but, say, the fusion generators keep working, their governing processors do not constitute the designated controlling mechanism. Nobody will be able to challenge our claim.’

  ‘The xenocs might,’ Wai said.

  ‘Let’s not make extra problems for ourselves. As the situation stands right now, we have title. We can’t not claim the ship because the xenocs may or may not return at some time.’

  Katherine rocked her head in understanding. ‘If we start examining the wormhole they might come back, sooner rather than later. Is that what you’re worried about?’

  ‘It’s a consideration, yes. Personally, I’d rather like to meet them. But, Katherine, are you really going to learn how to build exotic matter and open a wormhole with the kind of sensor blocks we’ve got?’

  ‘You know I’m not, Marcus.’

  ‘Right. Nor are we going to find the principle behind the artificial-gravity generator, or any of the other miracles on board. What we have to do is catalogue as much as we can, and identify the areas that need researching. Once we’ve done that we can bring back the appropriate specialists, p
ay them a huge salary, and let them get on with it. Don’t any of you understand yet? When we found this ship, we stopped being starship crew, and turned into the highest-flying corporate executives in the galaxy. We don’t pioneer any more, we designate. So, we map out the last remaining decks. We track the power cables and note what they power. Then we leave.’

  ‘I know I can crack their program language, Marcus,’ Karl said. ‘I can get us into the command network.’

  Marcus smiled at the weary pride in his voice. ‘Nobody is going to be more pleased about that than me, Karl. One thing I do intend to take with us is a cybermouse, preferably more than one. That molecular synthesizer is the hard evidence we need to convince the banks of what we’ve got.’

  Karl blushed. ‘Uh, Marcus, I don’t know what’ll happen if we try and cut one out of the composite. So far we’ve been left alone; but if the network thinks we’re endangering the ship, well . . .’

  ‘I’d like to think we’re capable of something more sophisticated than ripping a cybermouse out of the composite. Hopefully, you’ll be able to access the network, and we can simply ask it to replicate a molecular synthesizer unit for us. They have to be manufactured somewhere on board.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose they do. Unless the cybermice duplicate themselves.’

  ‘Now that’d be a sight,’ Roman said happily. ‘One of them humping away on top of the other.’

  *

  His neural nanonics time function told Karl he’d slept for nine hours. After he wriggled out of his sleep pouch he air-swam into the crew lounge and helped himself to a pile of food sachets from the galley. There wasn’t much activity in the ship, so he didn’t even bother to access the flight computer until he’d almost finished eating.

  Katherine was on watch when he dived into the bridge through the floor hatch.

  ‘Who’s here?’ he asked breathlessly. ‘Who else is on board right now?’

  ‘Just Roman. The rest of them are all over on the wreck. Why?’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Why, what’s the matter?’

  ‘Have you accessed the flight computer?’

  ‘I’m on watch, of course I’m accessing.’

  ‘No, not the ship’s functions. The satellite analysis network Victoria set up.’

  Her flat features twisted into a surprised grin. ‘You mean they’ve found some gold?’

  ‘No, no fucking way. The network was reporting that satellite three had located a target deposit three hours ago. When I accessed the network direct to follow it up I found out what the search parameters really are. They’re not looking for gold, those bastards are here to get pitchblende.’

  ‘Pitchblende?’ Katherine had to run a search program through her neural nanonics encyclopedia to find out what it was. ‘Oh Christ, uranium. They want uranium.’

  ‘Exactly. You could never mine it from a planet without the local government knowing; that kind of operation would be easily spotted by the observation satellites. Asteroids don’t have deposits of pitchblende. But planetoids do, and out here nobody is going to know that they’re scooping it up.’

  ‘I knew it! I bloody knew that fable about gold mountains was a load of balls.’

  ‘They must be terrorists, or Sonoran independence freaks, or black syndicate members. We have to warn the others, we can’t let them back on board Lady Mac.’

  ’Wait a minute, Karl. Yes, they’re shits, but if we leave them over on the wreck they’ll die. Even if you’re prepared to do that, it’s the Captain’s decision.’

  ‘No it isn’t, not any more. If they come back then neither you, me, nor the Captain is going to be in any position to make decisions about anything. They knew we’d find out about the pitchblende eventually when Lady Mac rendezvoused with the ore particle. They knew we wouldn’t take it on board voluntarily. That means they came fully prepared to force us. They’ve got guns, or weapons implants. Jorge is exactly what I said he was, a mercenary killer. We can’t let them back on the ship, Katherine. We can’t.’

  ‘Oh, Christ.’ She was gripping the side of her acceleration couch in reflex. Command decision. And it was all hers.

  ‘Can we datavise the Captain?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. We’ve got relay blocks in the stairwells now the cybermice have been deactivated, but they’re not very reliable; the structure plays hell with our signals.’

  ‘Who’s he with?’

  ‘He was partnering Victoria. Wai and Schutz are together; Antonio and Jorge made up the last team.’

  ‘Datavise Wai and Schutz, get them out first. Then try for the Captain.’

  ‘OK. Get Roman, and go down to the airlock chamber; I’ll authorize the weapons cabinet to release some maser carbines . . . Shit!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can’t. Marcus has the flight computer command codes. We can’t even fire the thrusters without him.’

  *

  Deck fourteen appeared no different to any other as Marcus and Victoria wandered through it. The corridors were broad, and there were few doorways. None they did find were closed.

  ‘About sixty per cent is sealed off,’ Marcus datavised. ‘This must be a major engineering level.’

  ‘Yeah. There’s so many cables around here I’m having trouble cataloguing the grid.’ She was wiping a magnetic sensor block slowly from side to side as they walked.

  His communication block reported it was receiving an encrypted signal from the Lady Mac. Sheer surprise made him halt. He retrieved the appropriate code file from a neural nanonics memory cell.

  ‘Captain?’

  ‘What’s the problem, Katherine?’

  ‘You’ve got to get back to the ship. Now, Captain, and make sure Victoria doesn’t come with you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Captain, this is Karl. I accessed the analysis network; the satellites are looking for pitchblende, not gold or platinum. Antonio’s people are terrorists, they want to build fission bombs.’

  Marcus focused his collar sensors on Victoria, who was waiting a couple of metres down the corridor. ‘Where’s Schutz and Wai?’

  ‘On their way back,’ Katherine datavised. ‘They should be here in another five minutes.’

  ‘OK, it’s going to take me at least half an hour to get back.’ He didn’t like to think about climbing fourteen flights of stairs fast, not in this gravity. ‘Start prepping the ship.’

  ‘Captain, Karl thinks they’re probably armed.’

  Marcus’s communication block reported another signal coming on-line.

  ‘Karl is quite right,’ Jorge datavised. ‘We are indeed armed; and we also have excellent processor blocks and decryption programs. Really, Captain, this code of yours is at least three years out of date.’

  Marcus saw Victoria turn to face him. ‘Care to comment on the pitchblende?’ he asked.

  ‘I admit, the material would have been of some considerable use to us,’ Jorge replied. ‘But of course, this wreck has changed the Confederation beyond recognition, has it not, Captain?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Definitely. And so we no longer require the pitchblende.’

  ‘That’s a very drastic switch of allegiance.’

  ‘Please, Captain, do not be facetious. The satellites were left on purely for your benefit; we didn’t wish to alarm you.’

  ‘Thank you for your consideration.’

  ‘Captain,’ Katherine datavised. ‘Schutz and Wai are in the airlock.’

  ‘I do hope you’re not proposing to leave without us,’ Jorge datavised. ‘That would be most unwise.’

  ‘You were going to kill us,’ Karl datavised.

  ‘That is a hysterical claim. You would not have been hurt.’

  ‘As long as we obeyed, and helped you slaughter thousands of people.’

  Marcus wished Karl would stop being quite so blunt. He had few enough options as it was.

  ‘Come now, Captain,’ Jorge said. ‘The Lady Macbeth is combat-capable; are you telling me you h
ave never killed people in political disputes?’

  ‘We’ve fought. But only against other ships.’

  ‘Don’t try and claim the moral high ground, Captain. War is war, no matter how it is fought.’

  ‘Only when it’s between soldiers; anything else is terrorism.’

  ‘I assure you, we have put our old allegiance behind us. I ask you to do the same. This quarrel is foolish in the extreme. We both have so much to gain.’

  And you’re armed, Marcus filled in silently. Jorge and Antonio were supposed to be inspecting decks twelve and thirteen. It would be tough if not impossible getting back to the airlock before them. But I can’t trust them on Lady Mac.

  ‘Captain, they’re moving,’ Katherine datavised. ‘The communication block in stairwell three has acquired them, strength one. They must be coming up.’

  ‘Victoria,’ Jorge datavised. ‘Restrain the Captain and bring him to the airlock. I advise all of you on the ship to remain calm, we can still find a peaceful solution to this situation.’

  Unarmed combat programs went primary in Marcus’s neural nanonics. The black, featureless figure opposite him didn’t move.

  ‘Your call,’ he datavised. According to his tactical analysis program she had few choices. Jorge’s order implied she was armed, though a scan of her utility belt didn’t reveal anything obvious other than a standard fission blade. If she went for a gun he would have an attack window. If she didn’t, then he could probably stay ahead of her. She was a lot younger, but his geneered physique should be able to match her in this gravity field.

  Victoria dropped her sensor block she was carrying, and moved her hand to her belt. She grabbed the multipurpose power tool and started to bring it up.

  Marcus slammed into her, using his greater mass to throw her off balance. She was hampered by trying to keep her grip on the tool. His impact made her sway sideways, then the fierce xenoc gravity took over. She toppled helplessly, falling fast. The power tool was swinging round to point at him. Marcus kicked her hand, and the unit skittered away. It didn’t slide far, the gravity saw to that.

  Victoria landed with a terrible thud. Her neural nanonics medical monitor program flashed up an alert that the impact had broken her collarbone. Axon blocks came online, muting all but the briefest pulse of pain. It was her programs again which made her twist round to avoid any follow-on blow, her conscious mind was almost unaware of the fact she was still moving. A hand scrabbled for the power tool. She snatched it and sat up. Marcus was disappearing down a side corridor. She fired at him before the targeting program even gave her an overlay grid.