He pulled up the video of the dig site on the day the two students had died. It was difficult to see what they'd uncovered, and the data recorders had been wiped by the radiation pulse, but it was definitely some kind of weapon. The medical records of the survivors showed that they'd been subjected to an unusual spectra of radiation. All of them had to have tissue and organs transplants.
He was going to have to get access to those artifacts, and to do that he was going to have to confront Dr. Anderson again.
Dr. Amber Mason lay on her bunk and cried softly.
She had recorded messages to her husband and children earlier, to be sent in the event of her death. She was scared. She had never imagined that she was going to get into the middle of an interstellar war. The war with the Nurgg had been a distant thing, something to liven up tired news reports. Now she was here, and the Nurgg were very real and very dangerous.
Anderson is making the wrong decision, she thought. Her misery was overwhelming. He's going to get us all killed. Mason would have gone home if it had been an option. She didn't care anymore about the mission, or what she had found. She just wanted to live. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? Why Anderson didn't share that sentiment, she didn't know. She suspected it had something to do with trying to show up Dr. Seshadri; they had been academic rivals for years. But to gamble with everyone's lives was inexcusable.
She tossed and turned in her bunk. She had dimmed the room lights, and her imagination filled the gloom with dark things. She was sure she would never be able to sleep.
But it wasn't long before the quiet hissing of the ventilation system lulled her into unconsciousness, and her dreams were dark and violent. She seemed lost in blackened corridors, and something evil stalked her.
Marine Private Gary Johnson knew they were out to get him.
He was certain that damned abomination was stalking him. He'd run into him three times earlier in the day – once while he was trying to eat. He'd gotten so choked up on his food that he had to get up and leave, and that bastard had looked at him the whole time.
He'd even dreamt about the killer. He'd seen what he had done on that ship that the whole Fleet was carefully not talking about. He'd seen it in his dreams, and that man was responsible for it.
It was intolerable, and Johnson was going to have to do something about it.
When he had signed up for the Marine Corps on New Kenton, no one had told him that they also allowed freaks to join. Not that he'd had a lot of choice about joining. It was either join or marry the ugly whore he'd blessed with his seed when he had gotten drunk on Founding Day. He didn't understand why they didn't just abort the damn fetus. It wasn't like she was one of the Faithful.
The Holy Prophet Drennan had preached an end to the unholy practice of genetic engineering and the hell-spawned curse of psionics. Johnson's family had kept the faith, and he had learned the Book of Drennan from his father. He kept it in his mind so that no one could take it away from him.
The Federation talks big about tolerance, he thought. But when the Prophet came, they shot him down on the temple steps like an animal.
I'll get that blasphemous psion yet.
I'll find a way to get him.
Dr. Maria Rodriguez supervised the transfer of patients from the Descubierta and the Lafayette to the Loridell long into the night. Only four of the critically wounded crewmembers had survived the journey back to Cedeforthy. That wasn't really a surprise; the injuries were mostly the result of radiation burns and decompression. The small warships just didn't have the medical capabilities to take care of so many critically wounded people. It made her ache to think of all the people she could have saved, if she'd been able to get to them.
The Loridell was designed to operate independently for long periods of time, so it carried the latest innovations in medical technology. Its medical bay and doctors provided a level of care that rivaled the top planetary hospitals. They even had full organ and limb regeneration tanks. None of the patients who had survived to reach the Loridell would die. Dr. Rodriguez would see to that.
The rest of the non-critically wounded would be ferried over from the frigates in shifts so as not to overwork her doctors and medical technicians. At least that was the theory. In fact, she and her staff were already overworked. She'd dosed everyone with stimulants, but there were limits to that. Too many stimulants, and people started to make errors in judgment, and that could kill people in a medical bay.
Chapter Eight
"Dr. Anderson," Tebrey said when he found the man the next morning, "a word, please."
"I'm very busy right now. Make an appointment with my assistant if you need to talk with me." The scientist waved him away as he walked toward the shuttle bay.
"Doctor, I don't think you want me to go through official channels with this. Right now it's a request for your cooperation. If my superiors become involved, it could result in actions that no amount of political leverage will rectify." Tebrey waited a moment to gauge Anderson's reaction. "I personally feel that science should be conducted by scientists, but I also feel very strongly about the security of this mission and the possibility that you have been deliberately withholding access to information and technology that could change the outcome of this war."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Doctor, I would do more than that. As a member of Special Operations, I have a very broad set of orders concerning threats to the Federation. Right now, I think that you're simply a pompous asshole who doesn't want to give up control of any aspect of his research. However, if you persist in attempting to block my access to that research, I will have to assume that your actions are treasonous, and deal with you accordingly."
"You son of a bitch, I'll have your commission for this."
"You can't touch me, Doctor, and you know it. I, however, can take you right now to the closest airlock and blow you screaming into space. The worst that would happen to me is an official reprimand. You'd be dead."
"You're bluffing."
"Is keeping complete control over your research worth finding out if I am?" Tebrey asked in a cold voice. He was prepared to do exactly what he'd said. "Now why don't you grant me access to the research?'
Anderson stood there red-faced for a minute before activating his com and calling his lab assistant to meet him at the shuttle bay. Tebrey followed.
"You needed me, Dr. Anderson?"
"Douglas, the commander needs access to the collection from the beta site. Please make sure that any of his questions are answered."
"Full access, sir?"
"Yes, Douglas," Anderson said. "Now, Commander, if you'll excuse me, I still have more digs to oversee."
"Of course, Doctor." Tebrey watched the doctor boarded the shuttle without a backward glance, and then turned to Douglas. As a member of the archaeological team, Douglas didn't have to conform to the look of the natives like the anthropology team did. He was a tall hundred eighty-three centimeters, although still shorter than Tebrey.
"Where did you want to begin, Commander?"
"I want to examine everything that has been excavated from the beta site."
"That's a lot of artifacts."
"Then we had better get started."
Douglas led him to the rear of the ship where the archaeology labs were.
"You'll need gloves if you're going to handle the artifacts. Just place your hands in here." Douglas demonstrated by placing his hands in the wall-box. Fine spray coated his hands to just above the wrist with a thin, white, durable coating of some kind. "It's to protect the artifacts from the oils on your skin."
Tebrey placed his hands in the box. The spray was a little bit cold, but his hands didn't feel any different after the coating had been applied. "What is it?"
"It's an inert long-chain carbon molecule. Goes on just a few atoms thick, but keeps the artifacts safe."
"How do I get rid of it?"
Douglas laughed. "There is another machine inside that removes it just as easily. I'll show you." He ste
pped forward and placed his hand over a plate next to the door. The door sighed and slide into the wall.
"It can read your prints through the glove?"
"No, it's reading the near-field chip in my palm."
"Ah, that makes more sense," Tebrey replied.
He led Tebrey into the lab, which contained tables with microscopes and other machines Tebrey didn't know the function of. The sides of the room were filled with shelves. Each of the shelves held twelve plastic boxes. If there was a filing system, Tebrey couldn't see it. There was a printed hologram of a sprawling ruined city along one wall, with smaller images placed in certain areas, no doubt marking significant finds.
"Is that the beta site?" Tebrey asked, awestruck by the sheer grandeur. It was an archeological site to rival that of ancient Washington on Earth or the Storm Towers of Origin at Gamma Libra.
"It is," Douglas replied with obvious pride.
"It's amazing. I can see why Dr. Anderson has been so hush-hush about it."
"Are you going to take the project away from him?" Douglas asked quietly.
Tebrey turned and met the young man's eyes. "I don't intend to take anything away from anyone. That isn't why I'm here. My mission is to determine if there are artifacts at this site that warrant further military investigation. If Dr. Anderson will get on board with the program, I'd happily recommend that he be allowed to continue his research here, with the caveat that he turn over any and all artifacts that have possible military application to the Fleet as soon as he finds them."
Douglas nodded. "Many of us have been wondering about you. That makes sense. To tell you the truth, I think most of us would be a lot happier if that happened. Mark and Wendy, the two who died, were friends of mine. No one wants that sort of thing to happen again."
"Possible weapons should be studied under controlled conditions by military scientists," Tebrey agreed. "I'm not the bad guy here, really."
"So where would you like to begin?"
"I'd like to get a general feeling for the site before we start on the possible weapons. What can you tell me about who built it?"
"That's a big question," Douglas said. "I suppose you know that we found the site by following the legends of the local people?" When Tebrey nodded, he moved over to a display table and continued. As he talked, he brought up a three-dimensional model of the ruins. "The first order of business was to map the ruins, obviously. We spent a week doing that before we did a foot survey. There was a lot of debris on the surface, but it was of mixed provenience, like most surface collections. I think most of us assumed the place had been built by the original colonists. We found a complex grid work of streets and fused stone buildings. Some of the blocks used in the construction of the buildings were massive, weighing an estimated six hundred tons each. Then we started getting the dates back on the stone."
"Not what you expected?" said Tebrey.
"Not even close," Douglas replied. "The buildings were thousands of years old. We knew then that we'd found something unique."
"You didn't think that the site was Achenar?"
"We did at first, sure, but we did a spatial analysis. There was less than a two percent match with any other known Achenar sites. No, this site is different. We think that it represents a previously unknown alien species. Well, most of us do, anyway."
"Not everyone agrees?"
"No, Dr. Seshadri has some other crazy theory about the origin of the ruins. I don't know the particulars, I don't pay him much attention. It has something to do with his religion, and if you ask me, he's too biased to be a good scientist."
"I thought a good scientist should always consider every option," Tebrey said.
"Ever reasonable one, sure, but not the lunatic fringe. I don't even know why Anderson allowed him on this trip."
"I'm sure he had his reasons," Tebrey replied, not very interested in politics. "Why don't we just start at the beginning. What did you find first?"
Douglas pulled a box off a bottom shelf and brought it back to the table. The contents smelled dusty and old, Tebrey thought.
"This is the stuff we collected from the surface. As you can see, most of it's junk from the colonial period."
Tebrey thought it just looked like a dusty box of trash, but didn't say anything.
"We found non-biodegradable food containers, bits of rotted cloth, that sort of thing. There were a few bits of rusted metal, but nothing identifiable." Douglas placed the box back on the shelf and pulled down the next one. "When we started excavating, we were surprised to find signs of occupation right up to the colonial period. There was a lot of cracked pottery," he said, pulling examples out of the box, "but nothing to suggest a technological culture."
"So the aliens were still here when the first colonists arrived?"
"It would appear so," Douglas said. "We haven't found any record, though, and the people in the village don't like to talk about it."
"What about the metal stuff?" Tebrey asked.
"Let me get the box for you." Douglas struggled a bit under the weight of the next box. "We found this stuff about two meters deep. We think it dates to the destruction of the city."
"Destruction of the city?'
"We think there was some kind of war here about twelve thousand years ago. We found a lot of skeletal remains at the two-meter level. That is also the level where all of the weird metallic artifacts come from. Mark and Wendy were excavating at that level when they died."
"What about before that?"
"We think the city was occupied for a few thousand years before that, but we aren't sure."
"You said that there were skeletal remains. Could the species be identified?"
Douglas hesitated; Tebrey could tell that he was hiding something. "That has yet to be determined. I'm not an osteologist."
"Hmm. So this is the only box of artifacts?" Tebrey said, thinking that his mission might be a failure after all.
"Oh no," Douglas said. "All of the rest of the boxes in here are filled with them. I just pulled the stuff we found first. I thought you wanted to look at it in order."
Some of the artifacts were undoubtedly ornamentation. There were many, however, that were quite different. There were bizarre spheres with enigmatic interlocking scrollwork and traceries. A reticulated rod held his attention for hours; it was covered with cryptic symbols that had to be writing of some sort.
It was evening before Tebrey had made his way thought half the boxes. He would need days to examine them with any detail. Whatever was going on, it was mystifying. Tebrey didn't recognize any of the writing, much less have any idea as to what the artifacts had been used for.
Chapter Nine
Douglas Cain had been employed by Dr. Anderson for three years while he worked on his doctorate, and he was used to the man's foul moods. And while he usually respected his employer's opinions, he was glad that they didn't have to hide what they were doing from the military anymore. It had seemed far too dangerous a game to play, especially for a small-time player like himself.
After a couple of days in the lab, Douglas was glad to be back on the surface of the planet and away from close proximity with Tebrey. He'd brought the commander down to the beta dig site that morning, but the man had wanted to look around on his own.
He waved to a fellow student, and she came over.
"Hey, Doug," she said as she walked up. She was grimy from digging and looked more than a little disgusted.
"How is it going?"
She laughed. "Other than spending all morning working to remove a statue that turned out to be just a lump of rough stone, I'm fine. How're you?"
"Same as always, Jane. Maybe a little worse this week." He jerked his head in the direction of their military advisor.
"Giving you a hard time?" she asked.
"No. The boss hates him, though, and he gives me the creeps." He shrugged. "Anderson has had me helping him look through the artifacts we've already cataloged. I don't like him."
"Really? I think he
's kind of sexy." Jane watched Tebrey speculatively.
Douglas snorted. "If you like the type," he said. "Maybe."
"What? You're not interested in knowing if what they say about Special Forces is true?"
"What's that?"
"That they're animals in bed!" She laughed.
"Jane, you are incorrigible."
"Well, why not?"
"Because he's creepy. Oh, go for it if you want to. You can help him poke around in the ruins, and I can get back to work on my dissertation."
"Hmm. Maybe I will, at that."
The sleek, graceful bulk of shuttle three came to a halt on the temporary landing pad at the beta dig site. The pilot waited for the hull to cool, then cycled both of the airlocks together.
Marine Private Johnson stepped off the shuttle and slung his laser rifle over his shoulder, frowning. He and Corporal Cook were replacing the two guards planetside. On the way down to the planet, she had come on to him – at least in his mind. He wasn't so sure now. She had rebuffed his efforts at getting to know her better. Just as well, he thought. She's one of those bitches that would fuck me and then report me. Saying I had raped her. She does have a nice ass, though.
Privates French and Stevens were coming off guard duty, laughing at some joke. Maybe even at him. Cook could have sent them a message. He shook his head. It was getting hard to think straight. He hadn't been sleeping well. The sergeant had gotten all over him earlier because he had forgotten to lock down a storage case. Like anyone was going to steal a case of energy cells for the rifles.
"Hey," Jack French said as they walked up. "Enjoy your six hours on beautiful, sunny Cedeforthy."
It was cold and cloudy. The weather satellites said it might even rain later in the day.
He just grunted and walked past them.
"Oh, that Special Ops guy is down at the far end of the dig."
I know, thought Johnson. I know. His hand caressed the cool metal of his rifle, and a small smile curved his lips.
The Remnant Page 7
