Memory's Exile

by Anna Gaffey

  “Labs,” Jake supplied.

  “Fine, blood labs for new tests. I want you to look for anything. And by anything, Jake, I mean—” he dropped his voice “—Leech. Make sure you two run the gamut.”

  “Okay.” He could do that, probably. He had before. “But I don’t really do path. Not anymore. Are you sure I wouldn’t be better doing something…else?”

  Lindy appeared beside him and plopped a tablet into his hands.

  “Okay, I said. Damn.”

  Con stepped forward. “Before we, ah, deploy. My copilot Redbear made her report.”

  “That’s right.” Carmichael acknowledged him. “Exception, you said?”

  “She and a couple of the new cargo personnel stayed aboard the Harmon this evening to check over fuel allotment. While they were doing that, they got an emergency hail to one of the private crew quarters. One of the new pathologists I told Jake about was staying there.”

  He nodded at Jake. Jake widened his eyes, because why the hell not, if they were being obvious now.

  “Yes, I understand,” Carmichael said patiently. “What about him?”

  “Her, actually. Dr. Alice Silverman. She’s dead.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “One of our final stops. There’s a bunch of stellar phenomena outside. Interesting to the astros, I suppose.”

  Excerpt: personal ship’s log

  23 September 2242

  Dr. Alice Silverman

  Clinical pathologist

  Personnel Carrier Leah Harmon

  United Worlds DS 2150-1

  En route Selas Station, Satellite, Eos System

  [Data recovered 02 Dec 2242, Gunaji rights per salvage]

  1 November 2242 AEC

  02:40

  They brought the body over on a blue emergency stretcher, covered with a couple of silver heating blankets. One had ridden up to reveal the curving, unmarked sole of a standard-issue United Worlds sneaker, the comfy kind that scientists and techs always chose with long lab hours in mind. Jake swallowed and twitched the silver down. He wanted to pull back the covering, to really see her face, but he didn’t quite dare.

  “Over here, folks,” Dr. Lindy called, and they trundled past Jake. “Christs, don’t you have any body bags?”

  The Harmon crewmember pushing the stretcher looked pained. Jake missed her mumbled answer as another unfamiliar newt in Harmon blues hurried into the infirmary, his arms overloaded with bags and satchel straps: a shiny new standard-issue nylon duffle, a yellow hygiene case, a black suitcase, a flat brown briefcase. The guy acknowledged Con with a clumsy wave. “Sir.”

  He was young, more in keeping with the standard age of Selas newts. Jake’s initial impression of an older set of recruits was probably unfounded. The two conferred for a moment in low voices, and then the guy pressed the briefcase into Con’s hands and unloaded the rest onto the floor. Con turned back and, seeing Jake, hefted the briefcase. “Dr. Alice Silverman. Double Ph.D. Clinical pathologist and geneticist, shipped out with us from Helsinki Dome on June 29. They made ID according to her berth booking image.”

  Lindy had already shepherded the stretcher back toward the scanner. Silverman. Dead and unable to speak. What next? Jake collected his thoughts. “That all belongs to her?”

  “Yes.” Frowning, Con sized the case in his hands, and then passed it to Jake. “Shakur there got this one from her lab cabinet. No real personal effects apart from her luggage. At least, nothing in her room.”

  Jake set the case on an empty bed and flicked at the buckles. They stayed fastened. Beneath the handle, a tiny screen flickered to life.

  ###########

  Enter code

  Paranoia hated company.

  “Another team player.” Jake smudged the little screen with his thumb. Obsolete security tech, unyielding buckles, and the sleek exterior could maybe-kinda mean a lot of different things to the casual observer, but Jake preferred to cut to the delicious obvious: all three meant a Warringer case. It was a little, no, a lot sick to get juiced about historical tech belonging to a dead woman, to Alice Silverman, but plaguing hells, Jake was only human.

  Prior to Warringer Cooperative’s patent of the universal thumbplate recognition software, they’d specialized in business security. A Warringer code was safe as a key, they’d said, in the pre-Leech ads. Too bad none of the coding documentation had survived, and also too bad that most folks, Jake included, had never before seen an actual Warringer outside of a rotating 3D+ database image or a drunken conversation. The thing looked fresh out of the wrapper. Jake ran a reverent hand over the flat of it. “So she was into antiques, too.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “No. I knew of her, obviously. I mean, who didn’t?”

  Con looked blank.

  “Sorry. I mean, in Science she’s pretty famous for path work, genetic testing, you name it. She was signed on to work on Restore, actually, but I don’t know her. I’m surprised you don’t remember her testifying at my trial.”

  “Oh. Right,” Con said, clearly uncertain. “I think.”

  Maybe no one did. Jake had assumed it was part of communal consciousness, but then, he’d always been self-absorbed. People moved on. Silverman certainly had. “She was on the team that produced the final work on Clarify. And when she got a contract here, I was blown away. We would’ve doubled our lab productivity in a week.”

  “Can you get the case open?”

  “Maybe. Save it for later.” Jake started an inventory on the nearest free tablet.

  It took no time for them to rifle through the rest of the bags. Flung out on the hospital bed, the contents were disappointing in their normalcy. The squashy duffle was full of simple clothing: trousers, smocks, several station uniforms, undergarments and socks neatly bagged in a separate silky pouch. The hygiene case carried the standard run of toiletries, disinfectants, and emergency inoculants and boosts. The inoculant pouch had an old ID scantag, and Jake waved his tablet over it.

  If found, please contact A.S. at IL room 7.

  “What’s that?” Con asked.

  “Address?” Jake guessed. IL could be Icebreaker Labs. The heavy Science-issue glass lab vials inside would be worth a look. Even with the glass, the pouch felt deceptively light and proved impossible to open. Jake settled for scanning it. The pouch buzzed with inner containment. The vials registered as empty.

  The hard black suitcase gave them some trouble, but a hammer and prybar from the infirmary maintenance closet coaxed it open. It was full to overflowing with old paper lab journals, and tucked in a side pocket was a poky, runty old-model tablet that whirred and thunked electronically when they pressed the power key.

  “Bullshit that’s her main tablet.” Jake prodded it. The whole of the contents looked like misleading filler. They both looked back at the Warringer briefcase. Flat and seamless and gleaming brown, it sat steadfast against the stretched cotton sheet.

  ###########

  Enter code

  “Okay, look, Con, I’m going to need your passenger database.”

  “All right.” Con frowned. “Why?”

  “Jake? Griffin?”

  They turned to see Lindy stripping off her gloves. “From the cursory exam, my guess is heart failure. Transport was far too damn sloppy—your crew should have used a containment seal, or at the very least a body bag.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Con said.

  “I’m going to clean up around here, reassess Crewman Chen, and then I’ll go in and confirm.” She drew closer to them, her brow furrowed. “There are some marks around her neck. Nothing certain yet, but…was there any suggestion of intrusion, Griffin?”

  Con furrowed his brow right back at her. “You mean what, exactly?”

  “In her room. I’m wondering about possibilities for foul play.”

  “Oh. No. The ship’s emergency hail is coded to crew life signs as a safety measure.”

  “Yep. I know. It put time of death for her sometime before Nat’s party started.” Lin
dy chewed her lip contemplatively.

  “I had my copilot run through the Harmon security feeds. Corridor security monitors outside the quarters show Dr. Silverman going in and no one else. She was there from when she left stasis till the hail rang. And no one else has reported seeing anything funny.” Con’s commbud buzzed. “’Scuse me.”

  He moved away from them. “Say again? No. No, no, I want everyone back on board. Put ’em, hells, I dunno. Roll ’em in the stasis chamber until I know how long—”

  He raised his voice, but Jake couldn’t hear the rest because another voice had begun yelling out in the corridor, just barely audible through the double doors. He started toward them. “Are we expecting anyone?”

  Lindy cocked her head. “Santos went to get Kai, didn’t she?”

  “Oh.” Jake fell back. “That’s all right, then.”

  “What’s all this?” Lindy asked. She nodded at the mess of clothing and baggage on the bed.

  “Personal effects.” Jake glared at the briefcase. “Locked. I’ll have to crack it in the lab.”

  “I hope you inventoried. Carmichael doesn’t like it when you forget.”

  “Oh, gee, thanks. And I sure hope someone reimburses you for all the babysitting, Lindy.”

  “—you can press those pretty little lips right against my ass cheek,” came the hail of shouting from the corridor. “I signed the same contract you did, Santos—”

  “Terrific. We’re equals.” The frost in Santos’ voice iced through the doors. “That means you don’t get any special treatment.”

  “Special treatment? Special treatment? This isn’t a fascist state, this is a board-run Science station, you’re a glorified bean counter slash security guard, and I’m a contractual employee entitled to the same human rights I’d have back on Earth—”

  Jake yanked the Warringer case off the bed. “On second thought. Lock this quick in your office, will you?”

  “…more, in fact, as I’m a highly valued member of this expedition, and the lab’s needs take precedence—”

  Lindy sighed. “No, Jake.”

  Santos made an ear-blistering suggestion as to where Kai’s value could best be appreciated.

  “Fine, don’t blame me. I inventoried.” Jake hugged the case as the infirmary doors banged open to admit a furious Rachel Santos and a still-blazing Kai Murakami. Santos had one hand on her commbud, the other clawed tight around Kai’s arm.

  Kai took two steps inside and pointed a finger. “Jake. Jeong. You—”

  He stopped and sniffed. He looked around. “What’s going on? What’s all this?” His eyes lit on the bed, the baggage, the briefcase in Jake’s arms, and they bugged. “Oh, no way. Oh, no way. Where’d we get it?”

  “It’s not what you think—” Jake began.

  “I think it’s a Warringer, that’s what I think. Is that what I think—is that what it is? Where did we get it?” Kai rolled his eyes. “Man. I knew that party was a smoke screen, who needs a Halloween party way out here? You have to share, Jake.”

  “I’m going to.”

  Lindy coughed.

  “I am.” Jake glared at her and then slapped the case back down on the bed. They knelt before it. Kai smelled like dank moss. “But we happen to be in the middle of a security lockdown. What’s so important that you couldn’t follow procedure?”

  Kai slit his eyes sideways at Jake. “Nothing. Nothing important. I was just…hey, so it’s not core code, I’d heard there were some core ones back in the twenty-eighties.”

  “What, core code? No. God, look at it before you say something that manifestly stupid.”

  “Oh, like just looking at a Warringer will help you open it—”

  “Doctors,” Santos cut in, her eyes ferocious, “security lockdown?”

  “Okay, okay, okay. Tomorrow, Kai.”

  “Tomorrow? Look at me, I’m not going to sleep tonight! Let me take it down to the lab, or my quarters, I’ll work on it there and we won’t lose anytime.”

  It was an equally appealing and galling idea.

  “Or,” Lindy interjected primly, “you could leave it with me.”

  Jake sighed internally with relief.

  “You?” Kai wrinkled his nose. “You don’t care about tech, Lindy. It’s just—” He coughed unconvincingly. “—boring. Boring tech stuff.”

  “It’s procedure to examine any evidence related to my corpse.”

  Kai blanched. “Corpse? Who’s dead? Mei? What happened?”

  Lindy reached between them and lifted the case away. “I’ll hold it till tomorrow, gentlemen, and give you the results of my scans then. Jake, I’ve run the standard bloodwork on Mei, and I don’t see anything pointing to the boogeyman.”

  “The what?” Kai asked. “Plaguing angels, what have you guys been doing down here?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  From the testimony of Dr. Angelica Padula Jeong, residing at Dome 0048 SP, level B, section 34, compartment 5-0-5, to be read in evidence before the United Planetary International Court (western hemisphere 4th circuit), of Saint Paul. Representative of United Worlds Governance Board in attendance at Examiner’s table.

  Examiner: When did you first become aware of your son’s intent to leave your partnership and create Icebreaker Labs?

  A.P.J.: On his sixteenth birthday, when he’d reached legal majority. At that time the age was higher –

  Ex: Yes, we know. Was this decision acceptable to you?

  A.P.J.: Of course. I was content working for the Saint Paul Municipal Lab station. But Jake, he wanted something bigger. Min Jee and I encouraged him. He agreed that he needed to work on a broader scale, for humanity, I mean, because he could. How could something like that be unacceptable? He had carte blanche from the Science Division head. He –

  Ex.: Please refrain from extending questions, rhetorical or otherwise, to myself or anyone else here. And speak in Regulation. This isn’t a Historical Society meeting.

  A.P.J.: My deepest apologies.

  Ex.: Thank you. Getting back to the topic at hand. We all know how he’s helped humanity. That doesn’t excuse illegal or unethical behavior.

  A.P.J.: Don’t forget who you’re talking about here. You wouldn’t be, none of us would be standing here breathing without his contributions to the human immune system boosts. And his assistance to his father with containment, Min Jee always said it was invaluable –

  Ex: So after all this, you would consider Dr. Jeong’s…your son’s illegal and unethical tests to be for the good of humanity? You consider the deaths of thirteen sterling-ranked Defense personnel and ten irreplaceable scientists, including Rebecca Jeong, your own daughter, the defendant’s own sister, acceptable losses? This monstrous callousness toward life is justifiable when someone has “helped humanity?” How did Restore help humanity? Restore. At best, an unfitting designation. At worst, a grotesquely comic and tragically misleading one, chosen to conceal careless research and falsified data. And in the end, when the designation could no longer refute the undeniable presence of twenty-three corpses, your son resorted to extreme physical self-sabotage to erase his culpability. Tell me, Dr. Jeong, exactly how much good must such a one, must anyone, do before they may commit murder with impunity?

  A.P.J.: I don’t know. I am ill equipped to answer such a question. If indeed there was a question in that soliloquy.

  Ex. Let’s try something easier, then. Why have you not turned over the serum?

  A.P.J.: This again? I told you, I never had access to it. Ask your scientists. Ask his lab staff. Ask Science. They’re the ones who destroyed the samples and emptied the labs.

  Day 4, 1 January 2232

  United Worlds Commonwealth v. Jeong

  Examination A.259

  Angelica Padula Jeong, M.D., Ph.D.

  4th Circuit United Worlds International Court

  Western Hemisphere Dome 0048 SP

  Earth, Sol System

  [Archived: United Governance Board regional justice systems, Earth]

 
1 November 2242 AEC

  03:55

  They’d been at it for an hour when Security checked in with a resounding, unanimous all-clear. Carmichael called it and ordered the senior team to quarters. Jake listened in on all the check-ins and sign-offs.

  Fifteen minutes later, Nat still hadn’t checked in. He considered calling her and had his hand halfway to his commbud when it crackled.

  “Jake?” Boxhill’s bellow rattled his eardrums. Jake winced.

  “Yeah, Mick?”

  “We’re clear up here.”

  “Security?”

  “One guy left. Carmichael’s, I guess. He’s standing right outside the door. Frygun and everything, what a soldier.”

  “Don’t get used to it.” Jake rubbed at his eyes. “Doc said you can take another fifty milligrams of stim if you need ‘em, did she tell you?”

  “Nah. I heard you won big tonight.”

  Jake grinned. “Only because you weren’t there.”

  “That’s right.” Mick paused for a second. “How is Mei?”

  “Still out of it, I think.”

  The frequency crackled with a muffled curse. “Was it one of those fucking newts, or—”

  “Far as I can tell, nobody touched her.” But Jake had considered it. The image of that unfamiliar Mei in the mess flashed before him, her wide silent dead eyes, the rocking thump of her head against the floor, the bland, observant faces of the gawkers surrounding her, noting her like a speck on a slide. He shuddered. “Lindy’ll fix her up, Mick.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Are you coming up in the morning still?”

  “Don’t fucking remind me. Wait—no, I think Santos has that shift now. We traded…sometime.”

  “One a those, huh? I’ll be a-banging on your door if she doesn’t show.”

  “Lot of good that’ll do you.” Jake yawned. “At this rate, I’m not even going to make it there.”

  “Go to bed, then, so I can wake you up.”

  The comm beeped out, and the corridor’s silence sank back in on Jake. He blinked, and found the barred mess doors standing motionless before him. Right. He’d been standing here for—he checked his wrist chrono—ten minutes now, unwittingly, as if the doors would give him answers if he waited long enough.