Bits of Catalyst, page 12
“I’m not sure we have enough pods,” Drake said. “Kruik broke the encryption on the smartphones we seized, and it looks like the gang sold GoGo to nearly five hundred people, including a few dozen from Bits. First Chemist Miklat said that a single use is enough to cause addiction in humans, though the withdrawal symptoms could take over a week to manifest for casual users.”
“That’s pretty insidious,” Katya said. “Flower’s third officer, Pyun Lynx, was EarthCent Intelligence’s original human agent. She told us a story about her first assignment purchasing illegal Farling drugs for evaluation. She was accidentally dosed through skin contact and went into a coma for days.”
“Speaking from professional interest, do you know if she purchased the drugs from pirates?” Drake asked.
“It was a complicated story,” Sabina took over the thread while a waitress filled their water glasses. “They bought the drugs on the orbital at Farling Seventy, which is at the very edge of Farling space, and the only point in their empire with a tunnel network connection. Lynx and her partner found a down-and-out artificial person to make the purchases, and in return, they brought her back to Union Station where she eventually started working for EarthCent Intelligence as well.”
“I wasn’t aware there were any tunnel network connections to Farling space,” Nigel said, as he absent-mindedly swiped through the thin-screen menu tab the waitress had handed him. “What’s vat-grown veal?”
“You don’t want to know,” Katya told him. “And the tunnel connection was probably a Stryx attempt to get the Farlings interested in closer galactic integration. It didn’t work, and Lynx said that the orbital was the worst she’s ever been on.”
Drake passed on examining the menu for fear that Sabina would expect him to order for her. “Do you have spaghetti and meatballs?” he asked the waitress.
“I think the chef can manage,” the waitress said with a smile. “Do the rest of you want to order as well, or can I bring you something to drink other than water?”
“A bottle of red,” Sabina said. “And I’ll have the vegetarian lasagna. Can you do a children’s portion?”
“Sounds good to me,” Katya said, handing her menu tab back to the waitress. “We’ll split it.”
“Ravioli are the ones with fillings?” Nigel asked.
“You liked the cheese.”
“I’ll have cheese ravioli,” he told the waitress. “Did that come with salad?”
“All of the entrées come with a dinner salad and bread,” she told him, gathering the other menus. “I’ll be back with your wine in a minute.”
“So what was that about the Stryx giving the Farlings a tunnel even though they won’t sign the treaty?” Drake asked. “Most of what I hear about them is pretty bad.”
“They aren’t inherently evil,” Sabina told him. “The Farling Hierarchy’s official position is that they aren’t sure whether mammals and reptiles count as higher life forms. Farling Pharmaceuticals is just as likely to produce life-saving medications as they are to sell harmful drugs that turn people into zombie slaves.”
“We used to see a lot of that attitude with alien diplomats from non-tunnel network species who came to tour Stryx stations,” Katya said. “They want to observe how a species manages itself in the galactic community for at least a few thousand years before drawing any conclusions about whether the newcomers are civilized or just savages with a good tailor.”
Drake flushed for the first time in a decade. “It’s the only suit I own,” he mumbled.
“It’s a beautiful green,” Sabina told him, shooting her sister a look. “If it was any darker, it would be the same shade as my dress, and then we’d look a sight. The bit about savages with a tailor is just an expression Katya started using when we were trying to explain alien views in a class we taught for the Human Empire’s School of Government.”
“Absolutely,” Katya said when she realized that Drake had misconstrued her words. “I wish Nigel had your fashion sense. Who wears black suits?”
“Verlock academics, when they wear clothes,” the xenoarchaeologist said. “And my mother brought them to me from Earth.”
“Your mother traveled all the way from Earth to visit you on a Verlock academy world?” Drake asked. The waitress returned to uncork a bottle of red wine in front of them and splashed a share into each of their goblets. “How many connections does a trip like that take?”
“Just one, as long as it’s a Stryx station that has regular service to Earth and the destination,” Nigel said.
“There are a dozen Stryx stations where you can catch regular service to Earth now,” Sabina said. “I think all of them have an EarthCent embassy or consulate, but I don’t know how much regular traffic a small Verlock academy world gets through tunnels.”
“We had a passenger liner from Void Station every ninety days or so, but it stayed for a week so visitors could return the same way. There were freighters and science ships coming and going all the time, and some of them accept passengers by negotiation. But my mother came in her own ship.”
“Your mother has a Sharf two-man trader?” Katya asked in surprise. “I thought you said she was an academic.”
“She is, an independent academic, and she’s figured out how to lease ships with grant money. My father died young, and she was able to take over a field research contract he’d signed with a consortium of Earth universities. Mom’s kept it up ever since.”
Drake took a sip of the wine and realized it was the first time in his life he hadn’t hated it, which gave him pause. “Just how expensive is this place?” he asked.
“Remember, it’s on me,” Sabina said. “Co-captains earn decent money, plus there are perks to working with Flower.”
“Then why did you order from the children’s menu, and didn’t your sister say she’ll split it with you?”
“We don’t usually eat dinner, other than salad and dessert,” Katya told him. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“It’s a special occasion,” Sabina added, watching Drake out of the corner of her eye.
“So, Nigel,” Drake said, not wanting to get caught up in his date’s guessing games. “What does a xenoarchaeologist do on a colony ship? I can’t imagine our stops at habitats and orbitals are very interesting to you, and I don’t know how much the aliens will allow you to poke around on open worlds.”
“I’m developing an educational game,” Nigel said, and then he let out a sort of a sigh. “I would have been happy remaining on Cynth and studying in the academy, but the Verlocks want to see the education they provide put to use. When I turned twenty-six, the academy head called me into his office and said I was ready to work in the field or start teaching. I thought he meant they were going to give me a permanent position on the faculty for the human students, but then the academy head added, ‘Teaching somewhere else.’ It was a bit of a shock because I was the top-ranked human student.”
“How about the school of government the twins just mentioned?” Drake suggested. “You’d think they could find a place for an alien-trained expert in ancient civilizations.”
“I already suggested it, that and applying for a grant from EarthCent or the Human Empire but he doesn’t want anything to do with them,” Katya said. “It’s one of the attractive things about Nigel. He’s mysterious.”
“Maybe you should sneak a blood sample and run him through GenePost,” Sabina said, casting a speculative glance over her twin’s boyfriend.
“I wish,” Katya said, “but they do that facial recognition thing on the app setup.”
“Not on tech-ban worlds. You just fill out a postcard and mail it in.”
“With a blood sample?” Drake asked after swallowing a mouthful of salad.
“It’s Dollnick technology,” Sabina told him. “They have special printers that deposit nanotubes on the postcards that can preserve a blood sample for a year. The Farling doctor on Flower designed a DNA sequencer for the Human Empire that only requires a few viable cells to work.”
“I’m not worth the effort,” Nigel protested. “I don’t want to disappoint you, but I remember all of the hoops my mom had to jump through to keep the grant money flowing while I was growing up. And after the academy head kicked me off the planet, I want to make it on my own. What’s the difference between a government job and working for academia?”
“Sabina and I both work for the Human Empire, and it’s not anywhere as bad as you think. Everybody is young, the oldest person on their payroll is probably an economics professor in his early thirties. Some of their department ministers are older, but those are no-show volunteer jobs.”
“Why would somebody volunteer for a job and then not show up?” Nigel asked.
“She meant it in the sense of being volunteered, not volunteering,” Katya said with a laugh. “The Human Empire is still in the start-up phase, and will be until they get enough pieces and people in place to meet the Stryx requirements to take over from EarthCent. At best, that’s still a few years away.”
“So who chose the emperor?” Drake asked. “I never paid a lot of attention to those stories in the Galactic Free Press, and outside of the paper, I hadn’t heard anybody as much as mention the Human Empire until I joined the Miklat.”
“Samuel’s official job title is First Administrator, sort of like Snap’s official title is First Engineer Miklat. People go along with it when they’re talking to him, but to the aliens, he’s Emperor McAllister. His mother is the EarthCent ambassador on Union Station, and he ended up with the job because he was acceptable to the Stryx and available.”
“From the stories I did read in the paper, I thought the whole point of setting up a Human Empire was that it would be independent of the Stryx.”
“Nothing is independent of the Stryx, especially on the tunnel network,” Katya told him while her sister took the opportunity to catch up with their shared salad. “They’re always tweaking the tunnel network treaty to move things in the direction they want, and the option to set up our own empire was one of those changes. I can send you the current text if you’re curious.”
“Not that curious,” Drake said.
“Verlock statistical historians track all of the tunnel network treaty changes,” Nigel contributed while spearing a wedge of tomato with his fork. “They’ve been working on a proof of Convergence Theorem for millions of years.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“All of the tunnel network species believe that the Stryx are subtly interfering in pretty much everything behind the scenes to move the galaxy towards the best possible outcome,” Katya said. “It’s been impossible to prove because the interference is supposed to be taking place at such a low level that only the Stryx can track its impact on the big picture.”
“Like your joining the Miklat, offering your men as a police force, and taking me to dinner,” Sabina said. “How many different choices did you make along that path? Sure, you had free will to make choices, but how did the options you chose from come about?”
“And the aliens believe that the Stryx have that level of interest and influence in the galaxy?” Drake asked, charitably omitting to point out that he hadn’t invited Sabina to dinner.
“Yes. Verlocks and their statistics aside, they don’t see it as a topic for discussion in polite company unless they’ve had a few.”
“You can learn a lot about what aliens are really thinking if you get invited to enough parties,” Katya said.
Nigel finished his wine and offered the others a refill, which only Drake accepted, and then poured for himself. “What I don’t get is why it’s even open to debate,” he said. “There are obvious examples of the Stryx interfering on a massive scale, like when they banished the Brupt from the galaxy.”
“It’s not the visible hand we’re talking about, it’s the invisible hand,” Sabina said. “All advanced species, including artificial intelligence, do what they can to influence the universe around them. But the Stryx are the only ones who are suspected of shaping the evolution of some species over tens of millions of years, and on the granular level, playing matchmaker for promising community leaders.”
“And my finely honed diplomatic instincts tell me that the Stryx brought the four of us together for some purpose,” Katya said, patting the back of Nigel’s hand.
“Your sister invited me to dinner to bring me up to date on the crime situation,” Drake couldn’t help himself from saying. “What do the Stryx have to do with it?”
“Why is anybody who and where they are?” Sabina replied as she extended her empty wine glass, triggering the ex-mercenary to reach across the table for the bottle and to fill it for her. “My sister and I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to abandon our dream jobs working for aliens on Corner Station and partying with some of the coolest sentients on the tunnel network.”
“Our mother manipulated us into it,” Katya interjected.
“And since then we’ve just been going with the flow and waiting to see where it leads us. I can tell that you think we don’t take our jobs as co-captains of the Miklat seriously enough, but that’s only because nobody is asking us to make any command decisions. I’ve been manipulated by experts—”
“Our mother,” her sister interrupted again.
“—and I can tell you right now that somebody is gently pulling all of our strings. Not yanking our chains, mind you, but piling up the coincidences to the point I don’t even want to think about it. My bet is that it all comes to a head when we end up at the mystery two-week stop in our schedule before returning to Earth, and if I’m wrong, you can stop dating me.”
“But I never even asked you out,” Drake protested.
“Do you think you can do better?” she challenged him.
He leaned back from the table as the waitress set down a giant plate of spaghetti and meatballs, and he used the space to unfold the linen napkin on his lap. “No. But for me, there has to be something more to marriage than checking off boxes for some master plan hatched by artificial intelligence.”
“That’s why we’re dating,” Sabina said. “I’m not a mail-order bride waiting for you to pick me out of a catalog.”
Drake inhaled the rich aroma of the tomato sauce and decided that arguing over who was courting whom could wait until after dinner.
Ten
“Dewey,” Delphi greeted the artificial person as he exited his freighter. “You arrive further and further ahead of schedule every trip. According to the manifest Kruik forwarded me, you’re not even carrying any cargo.”
“What’s better than cargo?”
“Is this a riddle?”
“Of a sort. You don’t want to guess?”
“Right. Shadow told me about a bunch of guys missing work because they’re suffering withdrawal symptoms from an illegal stimulant they were taking. You brought medical supplies.”
“You’re getting warmer,” Dewey said.
“You didn’t bring medical supplies?”
An alien who resembled a beetle blown up to the size of a man skittered down the ramp, holding several black medical bags. “I believe our artificial friend is referring to me as supercargo,” the Farling rubbed out on his speaking legs, the resulting vibrations immediately voiced by the external translation pendant he wore on the front of his carapace.
“M79—did you shrink?”
“G32FX. It’s fortunate that I was visiting Flower when this emergency arose. I’ve spent years on Earth dissecting Humans.”
“Do you mean autopsies?” Delphi asked.
“Only if the dissections went wrong,” the Farling said, and then rubbed out something that translated to a guffaw. “A little gallows humor goes a long way in medical settings on Earth. A few years on the planet was just what the doctor ordered for my financial arrears. Now, where are my patients?”
“I guess the worst ones are in sickbay or stasis pods, but my boyfriend said most of the new users aren’t that bad yet, so they’re home in their cabins.”
G32FX dropped two of his medical bags at Delphi’s feet and said, “Follow me.”
“I’m the loadmaster,” she told him, making no move to pick up the bags. “I’m responsible for the cargo.”
“And as I’m supercargo, you must be doubly responsible for me,” the Farling rubbed out on his speaking legs as he began moving toward the lift tubes. “Come on, now. Lives are at stake.”
Delphi turned to complain to Dewey, but the artificial person had judiciously absented himself by beginning the post-arrival inspection of his ship. She glared after the beetle, then picked up the bags and followed. “I’m not your personal baggage girl,” Delphi gritted out between her teeth as the lift tube door closed behind her. “When we get to sickbay, you can find somebody else to carry your bags.”
“I didn’t choose you at random because you happened to be standing on the docking deck when the ramp descended,” G32FX told her. “You came highly recommended.”
“I don’t know the first thing about medicine. I’ve never even been that sick.”
“Exactly.”
“What?”
“Haven’t you ever wondered why you don’t get that sick?”
“Bits was a closed population without any wildlife, other than cats people brought, and most of our visitors were aliens,” she said. “I guess there just weren’t that many germs going around.”
“And when you moved to Flower?” the Farling prompted her.
“Well, I remember somebody saying that Flower screens for pathogens, but we were only there for a few months, and a lot of people I knew caught some bug or another.”
“But not you.”
“So what’s your point?” Delphi demanded. “I have a good immune system so I have to be your assistant? I already have a job.”
“My mission has priority,” G32FX said. “Please tell her, Kruik.”
“It’s true,” the Dollnick AI said through the lift tube capsule’s speaker grille. “The Zarents and my co-captains have given top priority to G32FX’s mission and he’s authorized to requisition whatever he needs. If M793qK recommended you to him as an assistant, I hope you can cooperate.”
