by Berg,Alex P.
Vijay nodded. “Correct.”
“And they haven’t taken any hostages or made any demands?” asked Tarja.
Vijay shook his head.
I eyed the display, which I’d been perfectly aware was not to scale, thank you very much, Ducic. “You mentioned the attacks have occurred along the Sol-Tau Ceti corridor. I’m no expert on interstellar transportation, but isn’t that one of the most heavily traveled lines in the galaxy? At least for us humans? How is it whoever’s attacking these ships has eluded capture five times now?”
“Good question,” said Vijay. “It’s why this has remained an internal matter. It’s also why Ducic is part of your team. Care to explain the circumstances to your new compatriots?”
The Tak flapped his gums as he talked, flashing me a glimpse of his creepy square-toothed smile. “By best held knowledge of our collective intelligences, said pirate attacks appear to have occurred while freighters have been contained within the solitary embrace of their warp bubbles.”
I blinked. “Come again?”
“Are your knowledge receptors familiar with the Alcubierre drive, human?”
“The warp engine that facilitates faster-than-light travel between star systems?” I said. “Yes, I’m familiar with it.”
“You have bypassed crux of my query,” said Ducic. “Are you familiar with its function? Down to the level of testicles and lightning?”
“Uh…what?”
I think he means ‘nuts and bolts,’ said Paige. Taks are notoriously poor at grasping idioms.
Ducic took my response as a negative. “How can I express this in prone man’s terms? Alcubierre drive function is driven by compression and expansion of space time. A vessel equipped with said engine does not move by mechanics of thrust. It moves not at all. Space time bends around it. Barrier created between compressed or stretched space time and space at pristine elasticity is informally dubbed the warp bubble.”
I’d known that already. If I hadn’t, Ducic’s broken explanation wouldn’t have enlightened me. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying pirates are attacking your ships while they’re in the warp bubble? How?”
Ducic’s ears flattened.
Paige came to my rescue. That’s his equivalent of a shrug.
“So these pirates are dropping in on your freighters mid-warp, and you have no idea how they might be doing it?”
Ducic nodded. At least that expression crossed interspecies boundaries.
“Is that even possible?” I asked.
“Theoretically, yes,” said Vijay. “Practically, no—or so we thought. Our suspicion is they have advanced tech that grants them superior tactical advantages. We’re still working out the details.”
I tried to wrap my head around that. Pirates? With Alcubierre drive technology that beat the pants off what InterSTELLA had? How could that be?
Vijay didn’t afford me time to think. “It gets more complicated, I’m afraid. I’ve told you each attack occurred along the Sol-Tau Ceti corridor, and I meant that quite literally. The attacks took place at warp speed in deep space. But here’s the thing about Alcubierre drive technology. It’s a straight shot sort of deal. You can’t change trajectory mid-warp.”
“Engine parameters are set prior to engagement,” said Ducic. “Length of drive action and trajectory. Engage, fly, arrive. Slice of pie.”
“Yeah,” said Tarja. “I’m sure it’s a cakewalk.”
“All of which means a ship attacking another along the Sol-Tau Ceti line must be on the same trajectory,” said Vijay. “The starting and ending points could be dissimilar if different engine burn lengths were inputted, so the pirates didn’t necessarily originate in the Sol or Tau Ceti systems, but we do have a set of linear coordinates along which the brigands must’ve exited warp.”
“Where are you going with this?” I asked.
“Compression and expansion of space time is highly energetic process,” said Ducic. “Surely you must wonder why Alcubierre drive use is prohibited near populated structures? Particles gathered in warp bubble accumulate during transit, then are emitted in shockwave upon arrival. Like sonic bang. Spread of blast is more contained now than in early engine models, but still nasty.”
“And?” I said.
“Those energetic particles can be sensed,” said Vijay. “They have very specific energies. Clusters of energetic particles like that don’t normally exist on their own in deep space.”
“So you’ve been sending recon teams to search for warp exit signatures,” said Tarja. “Let me guess. You haven’t found any.”
Vijay shook his head. “We’ve had teams of scout ships dropping in and out all over the Sol-Tau Ceti corridor, sweeping the area for energetic particle signatures. Ditto for spots along that same line extending past Sol and Tau Ceti. Problem is that’s a hell of a lot of empty space. They’ve yet to find anything.”
“Should particles be found,” said Ducic, “not only would it reveal where pirates ceased drive operation, but exit signatures could be used to trace new outbound trajectory. Not useful if pirates are heading to random spot in deep space, but effective in trying to find planetary hideouts.”
“So to recap,” I said, “you’ve got a team of space thieves dropping on your ships in mid-warp. You don’t know where they’ve originated from or where they’re going, and all evidence points to them not being able to do the very thing they’re doing in the first place.”
Ducic nodded again. “If I possessed opposable thumbs, I would thumb my snout at you, human.”
I frowned, but Paige stopped me before I said anything. He doesn’t actually mean thumb. It’s not an insult. He’s trying to say you’re right.
Tarja snorted. “Fabulous. I hope you’ve got something for us to go on, otherwise we’re liable to sit around warming our chairs while we collect our per diems—which is fine by me, but I suspect you had higher hopes when you brought us on board.”
“We did catch a break,” said Vijay. “We recovered physical evidence of the pirates from their most recent assault on the Agapetes, and we have extensive surveillance footage from each of the five attacks.”
The holoprojected ships blinked out of existence, and the display faded to black.
“Ducic will be your contact from here on out,” continued Vijay. “He’s familiar with the parameters of the attacks, and he’s been granted access to all data files, individuals, and pieces of physical evidence you might need to continue your investigation. I’m sure you have more questions, but you’ll have to defer to him. If something stumps him, he can message me via Brain, but only as a last recourse. As you can imagine, this situation has burdened me with a heavy load in addition to my regular work, and as an InterSTELLA police official, I have to attack it from multiple angles. Now, Ducic? If you would?”
Vijay delivered the last half of his speech with glazed eyes that made me think he hadn’t even waited to finish talking before he delved into his backlog of Brain missives.
The Tak physicist gave us a nod. “Humans and android. Please, if you would follow?”
6
I exited the office first, not as an affront to Ducic’s authority but because I didn’t want to have my pelvis crushed between his beefy, roughage-thickened flank and the room’s molded plastic desk. Carl and Tarja joined me.
As I waited for Ducic to amble around the tight corner, I spared another glance Chatterjee’s way. The man had totally checked out. Based on his likely personality type, I could understand his unease with us all in his presence, but the man had gone out of his way to recruit both myself and Tarja. I distinctly remembered his relief when I’d agree to take part in the investigation, so it struck me as odd the level of nonchalance with which he passed us off into Ducic’s tutelage.
Ducic set off down the hallway, his hooves clacking against the floor as he walked. “This way, please.”
Tarja pushed past me to settle herself at the Tak’s side, affording me not even
so much as a glance as she did so. I’d wager the woman would knock her own grandmother to the floor for an advantage.
“So, Ducic…” she said. “Vijay mentioned evidence? What exactly did the pirates leave behind? Something we can use to track them?”
“Your suspicions are stain on,” said Ducic. “That most recently expressed hope is ours as well. Said pirates certainly did not mean to leave as much as they did. Not unless they and their brethren are members of a cult of ruination.”
Tarja adopted a mask of confusion. “Come again?”
I wiped a similar look from my face. “Look, Ducic, I know you probably don’t do it intentionally, but could you try to be less opaque?”
Ducic shook his head. “You must be unfamiliar with my anatomy, human. Voluntary translucency is not physiologically possible for me. I am not even capable of modifying my skin pigmentation.”
“Just try to make a little more sense,” I said. “And stop calling me ‘human.’ The name’s Rich. Use it.”
“Apologies…Rich,” said Ducic. “It is not my intent to be obfuscatory. I will attempt to explain. Most recent pirate encounter occurred aboard the Agapetes. Crew of said freighter, as crew of all ships with cargos of interest to the attacking marauders, had been informed of risk. Where increased crew and guards had been possible to be implemented, they were, but many InterSTELLA freighters are not designed for said tasks. Ships are large, but crew quarters and life support systems are not. Metaphorically speaking, in case of the last. Life support systems, even on transports, occupy a large fraction of ship’s mass and volume. But I think I—how would say? Am straying?—from the topic.
“Crux of my tale is defenses aboard vessels have been increased, but sadly not aboard the Agapetes. Whether by knowledge or chance, pirates attacked ship. Not to imply crew was not prepared for the possibility. A clever mechanist—machinist? engineer?—subverted ship safety systems during said attack. A hatch adjacent to cargo hold was opened, and several pirates lost to the void of space. One more was caught under netting in cargo hold, though also killed by violence of pressure loss. His fellow thieves thought him lost to warp bubble and did not try to recover him. He was, in fact, not even discovered until crew went to investigate damage to hold. Quite a fortuitous turn of events, one must admit. I believe this is, how you would say, plucking a shot fish from a cask?”
“Not even close,” I said.
Come on, said Paige. You’ve got to give him credit for trying.
“So you’ve got one of the pirate’s bodies?” asked Tarja.
“As well as his tools and personal belongings,” said Ducic. “All were linked to him via tethers.”
“Of course they were,” said Tarja. “These are pirates we’re dealing with, not moronic flatlanders.”
“As a flatlander, I resent that,” I said.
“But not as a moron?” said Tarja.
I recalled Paige’s advice and swallowed back an insult. “You know, I think I’m developing a pretty good idea of why you work alone.” That got me a snort in response. “So where’s the body, Ducic?”
“Here, on the Snowbell,” he said. “In our medical bay. We have cryogenic stasis pods available for emergency circumstances. If medical prowess of our team is insufficient to cure an individual of their ailment, we can store them for transport to more advanced facilities. They also provide ideal storage for deceased. Olfactory problems otherwise persist.”
We stepped back into the mess hall, but rather than head toward the docking bays, we hooked a right and found a lift. The doors slid open as we approached, and upon Ducic’s spoken command, it whisked us down a couple levels.
When it spit us out, I found myself staring at a pair of doorways, one marked in red and white diagonal stripes and with ‘MEDICAL’ imprinted across the front seam, and the other with a more garish horizontal yellow stripe and ‘BRIG’ in bold, black letters.
I glanced at the door to the prisoner cells before following Ducic through the opposite opening. “I don’t suppose you’ve been lucky enough to take any of the pirates alive, have you?”
“If so,” said Ducic, “would you not suppose I would have shared said piece of information upon first introduction?”
I found the medical bay even more white and pristine than the rest of the ship. Thin white cots extended from the wall on retractable bases, each immaculately made and adorned with pillows that looked as if they’d never been used. Full body imagers hung from the ceiling, curved panels that resembled solar mirrors except for the complicated array of sensors within. Slips containing adhesive-backed biometric sensors, each thinner than a piece of paper, filled the alcoves at the side of each bed. Hoses for oxygen hung on the walls alongside handheld medical scanners and more archaic tools like otoscopes. I didn’t see any cutting or stabbing implements, so I assumed those were locked up in the cabinets on the far side.
Across from the row of neatly made beds, I spotted a couple of longer cots flanked by something that resembled a gigantic pair of pliers. Next to those were a pair of open-fronted stalls, each of them wide enough for a horse but fitted with an array of tools and displays that would’ve been excessive even for the most fervent of racehorse breeders. Unlike most ships of human construction, the med bay aboard the Snowbell was equipped to deal with an array of different species. For Ducic’s sake, I hoped the level of technical expertise of the medical staff matched the equipment.
All the cots and stalls were empty, but a doctor in a white coat sat in a chair against the far wall. He gave a nod to Ducic as we passed through the medical bay and into a smaller chamber within.
The skin on my arms prickled as we entered, and I suppressed a shiver. Two rows of a half-dozen cryogenic storage tubes rested against opposite walls, facing each other like frosty, silent sentinels. The hiss of forced air cycling through a vent mixed with the low hum of the cryo pods’ compression pumps.
A Dirax, roughly two meters ten tall and wearing only a lime green vest over its chest, stood in front of the pod against the far wall. Its carapace gleamed in the muted, blue-tinted lighting. Though the creature’s armor-plated arms hung low at its sides, its antennae flicked rapidly in sharp, targeted bursts as it interacted with the display on the front of the cryo pod. The Diraxi’s unique cranial architecture enabled them to network with any wirelessly enabled digital technology through thought alone, much like anyone equipped with Brain technology could. Scientists referred to the ability as electromagnetic speech, but the common definition of telepathy was equally valid.
Our crew approached the large insectoid. Ducic broke the ice. “Dirax. A word, if you please.”
Because of their evolved electromagnetically-based communications, the Diraxi had no auditory sensory organs to speak of. Ducic must’ve instructed his Tak-optimized Brain to repeat his speech to the Diraxi electronically, as I also did. Though some people managed it, I found it odd to conduct in-person conversations entirely via Brain.
The tall alien neglected to turn to face us, but its speech appeared in my mind, much as Paige’s own banter would. Ducic. You bring guests. Am I to assume these are the additional members of your investigative team?
“Correct,” said Ducic. “If I may? This tall one is named Tarja Olli. We are to assume she is a hunter of bounties of the living and piratical variety.”
“You are to assume correctly,” she said with a tip of her chin.
“And this other is named Rich Weed. He is some sort of investigative professional. Based on search queries, his qualifications seem dubious at best. The droid is in Rich’s charge. I have yet to be introduced. He is exceptionally quiet, and if I were prone to assumptions, I would categorize him as superfluous.”
“Ouch,” said Carl. “That’s what I get for letting everyone else do the talking.”
To my understanding, Carl is Mr. Weed’s partner, came the Dirax’s voice. And he is far from worthless. From my point of view, he may be the more valuable of the pair.
I was ready to stand up for Carl myself, but I would’ve done so in a way that painted me in a less derogatory light. “I’m sorry, have we met?” I would’ve asked his name, but I was fairly sure those were a convention his species didn’t subscribe to.
No, said the Dirax, but I am familiar with your work.
I elbowed Carl in the ribs. “Look at that. I’m a hot topic around the old InterSTELLA coffee dispenser.”
Your error is understandable, said the Dirax, but you are nonetheless mistaken. I am in GenBorn’s employ. I came to investigate the body. He gestured at the cryo tube.
“Well, that explains how InterSTELLA learned about my last case. So are you some sort of physician? Or mortician?”
Neither, said the Dirax. My expertise is in Brain function, operation, and maintenance.
“He did not so much come for body,” said Ducic, “as he did for said body’s Brain implant.”
And all the data within it, said the Dirax.
Tarja stepped forward and rubbed her sleeve against the front of the cryo tube, partially removing some of the frost from the Pseudaglas. “So you removed his Brain?”
Do not be morbid, said the Dirax with a flicker of its antennae. I am no expert of human anatomy. Besides, that is an unnecessary action. The Brain can be accessed remotely as long as it is powered.
“Powered?” I said.
“An electrical charge can be passed through frozen tissue, activating Brain function,” said Ducic. “We tried this prior to the arrival of GenBorn’s employee but to no avail. It would appear we are not as adept at said procedure as we believed.”
Do not blame yourself, said the Dirax. I have determined your efforts failed not due to any technical ineptitude but rather due to hardware incompatibility.
“Meaning?” asked Tarja.
The Brain implant is non-proprietary.
“Hold on,” said Carl. “Are you saying he has a non-GenBorn Brain? I thought your company owned the rights to all sub-cranial digital consciousness implants.”
