Year of the Child

by R L Dean

  "I got your request for any information that might help in your piracy investigation, and I happen to have camera footage from a science buoy, from one of my own cases."

  The investigative network! He hadn't expected a response so soon. Gripping the handcomm in both hands he leaned forward, watching the screen.

  "A freighter was shot with a missile on the edge of the Belt. UNSEC hasn't gotten around to sending a cruiser out to investigate, and when they do I don't think they'll find anything. Looks like the freighter's reactor blew. Anyway, I think one of your ships did the shooting ..."

  Tetsuya's eyes widened as Reese looked down for a moment, like he was reading something.

  "... the independent miner Sadie. It's hard to say. The buoy’s camera captured the ship's starboard profile and it looks similar, but it's a long way off. I've attached the footage along with the case summary. Good hunting."

  The Sadie ... Middleton's ship. Somehow that's not what he was expecting, but he didn't know what he was expecting. His eyes still wide, he opened the camera footage and linked it to the room's screen.

  The buoy’s camera was pointing at the outer edge of the Belt, a wall of gigantic, floating boulders, scree, and occasional reflective pearls. A flash of light came from the left side of the screen, and a thin yellow line shot out toward an asteroid, and then there was a flash of white light. The buoy, designed to capture astronomical phenomenon, zoomed in faster than the human eye could translate, settling on the plume of white gas, rock, and the molten, metal debris of a ship.

  Tetsuya replayed the clip at one-tenth the speed, zooming in on the left side ... the now familiar shape of a mining ship appeared, its canisters bulging on its thin frame. In slow motion a burst of light ignited from its hull, and a small missile shot out across the distance toward the leading edge of asteroids and dust. Pausing the clip, he slid the camera frame over to the right and watched as the missile struck the rock face of an asteroid and showered a skeletal freighter in debris. The freighter tried to escape, but it was too late. As soon as its thruster ignited, so did its reactor. The screen turned white.

  He froze the screen again and moved back to the other ship and stared. It was in mid flip now. The image was blurry, and shadows marred the details, but he was convinced it was the Sadie.

  Tetsuya sat back on the couch. What does this mean? He asked himself. Middleton's ship was attacked by pirates, he even filed a report ... and now he was firing missiles— where did he even get missiles— at other ships?

  "Tetsuya?"

  He blinked. Itsumi was standing just inside the main room.

  "Sorry, what is it?"

  "It's ready."

  He spent a silent lunch with his wife. If Kaori were there— if she hadn't left— Itsumi would have talked ... been her normal self. She might even have complained that he seemed distracted.

  Bring Ori-chan home.

  * * *

  George and Falk were gone. When he asked, out of the corner of her mouth, Baldwin told him that they were tied up in legal. Schindler was standing at her desk, looking at some files with her. Tetsuya settled in to do some investigating on the crew of the Sadie—namely their movements. Using the tracking and manifest data from the Registrar's database he reconstructed the Sadie's flight plan and Middleton and his crew's retinal scans, beginning with their departure from Butte earlier in the year.

  In his flight plan Middleton didn't include any stops from Butte to the Moon, where he and Misaki disembarked at Harmony— and the absence of retinal scans between the two points supported that. While he couldn't determine the Sadie's exact flight path without the transponder data, the timestamp on the buoy’s camera footage that Detective Reese provided matched the date and time that Middleton's ship would be in flight somewhere between Butte and the Moon.

  Tetsuya called O'Hara. His work with the hauler coordinators would give him ready access to the files he wanted.

  "Yes, lieutenant?" O'Hara asked as his face appeared on the handcomm's screen. His eyes were shifted to the side, looking at something.

  "I need to know the typical flight path a hauler would take from here to the Moon."

  O'Hara's eyebrows quirked for an instance. "You mean the standard annual routes?"

  "Right, those."

  "Okay, I'll send them over in a sec."

  He read over Detective Reese's case notes while he waited for O'Hara to send him the files. The other detective had nothing to go on until a UN patrol cruiser physically went out and investigated the area ... and maybe nothing from that as well. His notes included the results of a pattern matching scan for the shadowy ship that fired the missile, the image was too distorted for any meaningful results. That was becoming an all too familiar response.

  But it is the Sadie, Tetsuya told himself. He knew it was.

  His desk notified him of a message. It was the files he had requested from O'Hara— maps of the solar system with lines showing the routes that haulers took from Butte to the Moon. The flight paths varied with the month, the lines forming an off-center spiral as they followed the Earth and Moon around the sun.

  If Middleton followed the typical hauler's route back to the Moon, he would have crossed the point that the buoy’s camera was watching— the leading edge of the Belt, directly in line with Butte. Tetsuya stared at the line indicating the flight path for that particular month, the exact date and time was recorded by the buoy and superimposed on a black line above the camera footage.

  This wasn't conclusive evidence, but it was proof that Middleton and his crew could have been there ... could have destroyed the freighter. And I know it's you, he told Middleton in his head.

  Where was Middleton now?

  Turning back to the Registrar's data he followed the security log entries from Harmony dome. Middleton and Misaki scan in at the dome's docking terminal checkpoint. Forty minutes later the Apex plant blows up, taking the dome with it. Sixty-four minutes later Misaki scans in at the Osaka dome terminal. In the following two hours UNSEC locks down all ship traffic in orbit, the Sadie is officially recorded as checked into security quarantine and forced to sit on a landing pad for ten days while the initial investigation is underway. The Registrar's entries even included the transcripts from the interviews UNSEC conducted with Middleton and his crew. When it was determined that the destruction of the plant and dome was an act of sabotage the Special Security Team rounded up everyone they could get their hands on for interviews.

  Middleton wasn't sitting on his thumbs while waiting for the security quarantine to lift. The Registrar's data contained a linked record to the UN Department of Labor, Págos Holding submitted a Notice of Contract with Middleton. As soon as UNSEC let him, Middleton left to haul water-ice on a circuit to various ore drop-off stations in the Belt. A string of retinal scans and security logs followed him and his crew around, from station to station ... but the most recent scan put the Sadie at Autolycus. Middleton had returned to the Moon. From there he filed a flight plan that would take him to Ganymede Base, and another record from the Department of Labor linked to the Registrar's data showed that he accepted a contact from Apex Mining to haul gases from Jupiter.

  Tetsuya leaned back in his seat. O'Hara's maps showed Ganymede much closer to the ore drop-off points that Middleton was working in the Belt, than a flight path that would have taken him past Earth's orbit.

  Yet Middleton had done just that ... went to the Moon, first. He guessed why at this point, but continued reading. Middleton passed the security checkpoint at Osaka dome, and then fifteen minutes later he returned to his ship. Glancing at Misaki's records, Tetsuya confirmed his suspicions, she left with him. Now again listed as a member of the Sadie's crew.

  That Middleton would go so far out of his way to pick Misaki up said something about their relationship.

  Tetsuya logged out of his desk and left the office. He picked up a cup of coffee and leaned against a vending machine to watch the people seated at the plastic tables of a food court in the cent
er of the concourse.

  The reasonable thing to do was to turn his findings over to Long. The case was solved, in a sense. The pirates that attacked the Pendleton were dead and if they were lucky a UNSEC cruiser could locate the wreck of their ship and scour it for evidence that would reveal who they were. He should also pass all his information on Middleton and his crew to Detective Reese, so that he could wrap up his own case. The higher-ups could make the decision on what to do with Middleton. UNSEC could then run down the Sadie at Ganymede.

  Yet, that Misaki shaped puzzle piece was still missing from the big picture. And he wanted to see it ... know what it was ... who she was.

  He sipped his coffee, watching the crowd, and knowing what he was going to do when he returned to the office, but delaying it even though his mind was already made up. Just one question remained. How was he going to tell Itsumi he was going to Ganymede?

  22 - Alexandria

  "Among the growing rumors that Apex Mining's board of directors has issued orders to lockdown several of their major ore drop-off stations over life-support concerns, the Barnes Group, a Toronto based Social Statistical firm, says that's not the problem. It's the wave of crime that is sweeping through the stations. With me today is the Barnes Group's own vice-chairman, Marcus Wilde ..."

  Out of the corner of her eye Alexandria saw the screen on her desk pan to reveal the guest speaker. She was five minutes into the quarterly financial reports and already felt the heat rising in her face. Pushing her chair back she snorted and rubbed one temple.

  "Thank you, Victoria. What we're seeing is a long term increase in populations that are normally in flux."

  "Can you elaborate for the audience?"

  Her handcomm sounded with an incoming call. There were entirely too many ways to communication with a single individual these days. She gritted her teeth, jerked her chair forward and muted the newsfeed, then picked up the handcomm from her desk.

  It was Greg. She tapped the screen.

  "Yes?"

  "Something's come up," he said. He was driving, his eyes were forward, away from the camera, and there was a skyscraper passing by behind his head. "We need to talk."

  "About what?"

  He ignored her testiness and said, "I'm five minutes out."

  She frowned, but said, "Fine."

  The connection closed and she leaned back in the chair again. I need a drink.

  Standing, she stepped to the sidebar and turned over one of the heavy glass tumblers. Selecting the scotch, she poured three fingers, then upended it. The expensive liqueur worked its way down into her belly and boiled there for a moment. The issue with Catskill was tainting everything she thought about and every time she opened her mouth to speak.

  She had made up her mind on what needed to be done about Catskill, it was a matter of when. Maybe she would just tell Greg to take care of the matter now.

  Pouring another drink she sat back down and set the tumbler on her desk. While Ganymede Base was ramping up to speed real returns from it wouldn't be seen for months to come. It was supposed to support the company's— and by proxy, Alexandria's— financial needs while the Deimos plant got off the ground. But so much of her plan relied on timing, in retrospect they had moved too fast on the plant at Harmony dome.

  Distance and timing, she thought. Never the twain shall meet. Out-system was just too big. Haulers traveled at thousands of kilometers per minute, but the distance was both constant and changing as the planets and moons revolved. There was no such thing as an exact time out there.

  Then the ore and gases the haulers brought had to be refined, those processes were fixed in time by the laws of physics. Gold, nickel, iridium all melted and separated from dross at a given rate ... a notice from Denise flashed on her desk. Greg must be here. She tapped it.

  "Yes?" She asked.

  Denise announced Greg and she told her to send him in. When her hound entered the office he looked disturbed. His mouth was flat, eyebrows knitted.

  She held up her tumbler and said, "Whatever it is, you need a drink first."

  He shrugged, and walked to the sidebar. Choosing the brandy he poured a splash, then drank it in a gulp. He sat the tumbler down and turned to her.

  "I got a message from my number one man at Ganymede, off the UN network," he started. "He says one of the miners found something buried in a crater."

  Alexandria inhaled silently and pressed her lips together, waiting on him to finish.

  "He doesn't think it was made ... by humans."

  Alexandria let her breath out, closing her eyes for a moment. Well, the cat's out of the bag. It was much sooner than expected.

  Greg went on. "I'm not sure I believe him, but he sent me some heavily encrypted numbers and suggested we have ..."

  "Did he send any pictures?" She interrupted, firmly.

  Greg shook his head slowly. "No, just numbers. He said a surveyor would understand them."

  "Let me see them."

  He took his handcomm from his coat pocket, flipped through the screens, then handed it to her.

  Scrolling through the list she immediately recognized what the numbers were. She handed him his handcomm back and sighed, her own frown deepening.

  After a moment, Greg asked, "What is it?"

  Life was both long and short. Short when you were enjoying yourself, and long when you are waiting, she thought. But in this case it was too soon. They needed to wait longer.

  "Your number one was right," she told Greg. "It's a spectroscopic analysis. Scrub your comm systems, the handcomm too. And you said a miner reported it? Do we know who this person is, or their ship?"

  "We know the ship, not the individual," Greg said. "They were burning out of Jupiter's orbit when whoever it was sent a message about it. My team moved in to investigate, then secured the area." As he talked his eyes narrowed at her.

  She cursed under her breath ... miners. That crew could— almost certainly would— talk, tell everyone that would listen what they found.

  "You knew this," Greg said, slowly. "You knew something was there."

  "I did," she confirmed. Then reaching down she pressed her thumb to the handle of her bottom desk drawer. When it beeped she opened it, entered the code to the small safe inside and retrieved a flat metal case, setting it on her desk. Opening the case she took out a thin flexible sheet of polypaper. Her father liked to draw. It helped him understand the geography of a site in ways computers and instruments couldn't, he always said. For him, survey work had always been about feeling. Spreading the old survey map out over her desk she nodded to Greg.

  Alexandria tapped the corner of the polypaper and the map's faint lines, symbols, and numbers lit up.

  "It's my father's survey of Khensu crater."

  "Your father's ... how old is this?"

  "About fifty years," she told him. "Back in his early mining days."

  Greg picked up the map, his eyes roving over it.

  "He liked craters," she went on. "He spent over a month on Ganymede, looking for potential mining sites. It was still considered pretty far away then, there weren't a lot of mining crews out past the Belt. And UN law hadn't reached out there yet. It was still possible to stake a claim without a charter."

  She drank the last of her scotch. "Anyway, that's what he found."

  Still looking at the map, Greg said, "It looks like a CT scan of a ... building. There are rooms, and hallways ... it's huge."

  Alexandria shook her head. "I don't think it's a building. See the end, there ..." She stood and pointed on the map. "That reminds me of a thruster assembly. Almost like one of our haulers. We can't see the rest of it because it's buried deeper in the ice."

  Greg looked at her, his lips flat for a moment. "Are you saying your father found an alien ship?"

  "Well, it's not one of ours," she said. "His notes say the ice in that crater was formed between twenty-two to twenty-five hundred years ago. The ice around it is older by several thousand years."

  "Did he go insi
de, are there pictures ..."

  Alexandria took the map and folded it back up, and sat down in her chair. "No. He packed up his equipment and left Ganymede. He didn't know what to do. I think it scared him."

  "How long have you known about this?" He asked. His eyes were a little big.

  "A few months before he passed he talked to me about it, and gave me the map."

  As she put the map in its case and put the case back in the safe, Greg poured another drink. Something must have clicked in his head, because he said, "You got the UN chapter for Ganymede so you could get to this."

  She smiled and closed her desk drawer, then looked at Greg and said, "Yes."

  "What are you going to do ... with it?"

  "Greg, the plan hasn't changed," she assured him. "Though, I wanted more time on this part. We'll have to move quickly to get an excavation team on site and relocate whatever we find. Once the UN finds out about it, they will come and take it."

  He downed his drink and nodded. "I'm going back to my office and scrub the comms. I'll order my team on Ganymede to omit anything to do with Khensu crater in their reports. It will limit external exposure."

  When he walked out of the office Alexandria picked up her handcomm. It had been flashing with a notification for the last ten minutes. It was Rashingner.

  "Yes, Edgar," she said, tiredly, when his face appeared on the screen.

  "What have you been doing!" He yelled. "I've been trying to reach you for half an hour!"

  "Working. What do you want?"

  "We need to meet, now! Hurst has found something on Ganymede!"

  Alexandria yelled and cursed, slamming her handcomm down on her desk.

  * * *

  Edgar was in rare form. Unlike Greg's number one security man on Ganymede, Morton Hurst, the Executive Manager of the base, had in fact sent video footage of the discovery in Khensu crater. Edgar had it up on the conference room screen, standing just to the side, his long legs wide and his coat tails flipped back with his hands on his hips.