Year of the Child

by R L Dean

  "Activate your magboots," Kirkendorf told her. "There's metal plating underneath the frost. It might save you from a fall."

  She activated the boots, not waiting for the security officers to help steady her.

  "We think this was a maintenance entrance," Kirkendorf went on. "There's what looks like equipment cages, probably cleaned out by the miners."

  The cages were open, metal clasps were twisted off the doors, exposing empty shelves and hooks with the silhouettes of strangely familiar tools pulled from the frost. On the top of the cage, in blocky orange characters, was what reminded her of Chinese pictorials. It was labeling for the lockers. She stared at it. Whoever they were, whatever they were, they ... they were like humans. She felt like she was standing aboard one of her father's haulers. After she turned thirteen he made her go on a few long trips with him, just to Butte and back ... and this had that same feeling. The deck, the bulkheads ... the tool lockers.

  The lights on Efron's probe turned to another hatch, on the upward tilt of the room. It had been pried open, there were marks on its edges and a square hole had been cut out of the bulkhead beside it. The metal piece was lying on the deck. Beyond the hatchway was a corridor.

  "What's down there?" She asked.

  "What looks like a machine shop, and what I believe is an armory," he said. "Both cleaned out. All the tools and weapons are missing."

  Alexandria turned to look at him, then tilted her lights away from his face. "Armory?"

  "I spent some time on a UNSEC patrol cruiser. This whole thing reminds me of a military ship."

  "You don't think this is ... alien," she said.

  She heard him draw a breath through the speakers, then, "I don't know what to think, ma'am. All I can say is that this place seems familiar, somehow."

  Alexandria blinked, thinking. She needed to stop this now, she needed a plan. Every minute she spent here, gawking and speculating, Modi was a minute closer to finding out what they discovered and stealing it from her.

  How long will it take Edgar to assembly an excavation team? How much time do I really have?

  Her eggs were already in Mars' basket ... so she would give Shultz whatever was here. It was a big decision, born out of the necessity of the moment. Shultz had access to scientists, and ties to the FMN. Mars was the only thing in all of humanity on the periphery of the UN. They were the only ones that had the resources, and yet were far enough away from prying eyes to do something with what she would could them.

  But Modi was smart, and his arm was long. He commanded armies of UNSEC soldiers. He had the wealth of nations to draw upon, and many, many friends in high places. Alexandria needed a contingency plan ... and in a flash of brilliance it came to her.

  "Mister Kirkendorf ..."

  "Yes, ma'am?"

  "I want you to pull all Vanguard personnel here. You will open every hatch and pull out every piece of equipment that can carried to the surface. Then load everything into empty ore containers ..."

  25 - Mat

  "I don't know who I am anymore, Haydon," Mat said. The mechanic was floating across the galley's table from him, sipping water. He was having something more Yuri's style.

  "Look, boss," the big mechanic started. "It was a good plan that went wrong. Collateral damage is not something you can do anything about."

  That was Haydon's party line, now, which he thought was ironic. Haydon had expressed his reluctance at what he thought was Mat's plan to attack the depot because of the collateral damage. Boss, I'm all for killing bad guys. You know that. But, not everyone there is a bad guy.

  Haydon continued talking but Mat stopped paying attention and sucked vodka from his sip-cup. How did he go from mining gas over Saturn to blowing up pirate bases?

  The tug ... that's what brought me here. He was trying to protect his crew.

  Haydon was looking at him, his mouth in a serious frown and his brows pulled down toward his nose. After a moment he turned and headed to the galley hatch, it was open and as he swung out into the corridor Mat heard him says, "Oh, hey chief. I'm heading up to the Flight deck."

  If Misaki replied her voice was too soft to carry around the hatchway. A moment later she pulled herself inside and floated slowly toward the table— staring at him with a face devoid of expression, yet somehow attempting to convey ... something. One corner of her lip twitched slightly as she studied him and it was enough. It was disappointment that he was seeing in her eyes.

  She had spoken to him once about what happened. Delivering in monotone a possible engineering explanation for the depot's destruction when the refinery exploded— blowback down the refinery's access tube out into one of the depot's levels. Poor construction. Lack of safety hatches.

  But she had never spoken to him about what happened.

  "Mat," she said, catching her foot on the edge of a handhold and stopping in the air in front of him. "You are still the same man that pulled me from the locker on the tug."

  The same man. He stared at the cup in his hand and wished that were true. That was a life time ago, and deep down he knew he was not the same.

  "You saved me," she continued. "Now I'm going to save you."

  She suddenly slapped the plastic cup of vodka from his hand. It bounced off the cabinet and tumbled in the air over the table. He stared at her, his eyes wide.

  Misaki took his bearded face in her hands and looked directly in to his eyes. "They got what they deserved," she told him.

  "Misaki," he said, his voice wavering and tears clouding his eyes. "Not all of them were pirates. It's like Haydon said, there were innocents there. Even if I don't know who they were."

  He tried to look away, but she wouldn't let go.

  "This path you're on ... It's not Haydon's fault for getting you to board the tug," she told him, her voice the strongest he had ever heard. He looked up at her. "It's not Yuri's fault for bringing us to the depot. And it's not your fault for destroying the freighter or the depot. It's their fault."

  Misaki pulled herself to him and cradled his head to her stomach.

  "When the drugs wore off I would cry, sometimes," she said quietly.

  He broke then, and she squeezed him tight against her.

  * * *

  "Sadie, we are sending heading now. Be advised you will be required to stop and submit to boarding by Security."

  "We copy, Control," Yuri said from the cockpit.

  "Ganymede Control, out."

  "Haydon, are they going to find your guns?" Mat asked, looking from his seat to the mechanic.

  "No," Haydon replied gruffly.

  He had managed to keep them hidden from the UNSEC inspection team when they were detained at the Moon shortly after Harmony dome exploded. There was really no reason to ask, other than for his slipping peace of mind.

  "I have course data," Yuri announced.

  "Okay," Mat said. "Go ahead."

  Mat let his attention wander from the fuzzy image of Ganymede on his screen to Misaki's terminal, where her working ponytail was visible over the edge of the seat. Her hands had been hot on his face ... her eyes serious. Eyes that his soul had fallen into on the day they found her.

  You are still the same man that pulled me from the locker on the tug.

  That's what she said. He wasn't convinced, but the warmth that came from her in that moment had felt good— like he could forgive himself for not being the same man.

  "There is a lot of traffic out there," Yuri said. "Mostly security."

  Haydon grunted. "Orion colors. Never had much use for them."

  Over the next twenty minutes Yuri took them on a smooth decel to a lane of blinking buoys five thousand kilometers out from Ganymede. They sat another fifteen minutes before Security called and told them to prepare for boarding.

  Mat didn't need to worry about Haydon's guns being found, the Orion officer in charge was bored. He ran down a checklist of questions in a monotone voice. Then he scrolled through the last six months of maintenance logs, said nothing about the
patches Misaki had welded on the hull, and left. Ten minutes later the Sadie was diving toward Ganymede Base. When Control contacted them again it was to direct them to pick up their canisters and send them the coordinates to their assignment location.

  On his screen the base's small, golden dome came into view. There was a frost covered tank farm and refinery to one side where a crane was organizing ore canisters. As Yuri maneuvered to pick up their canisters Mat stared at the refinery. If his aunt were alive would she recognize him now ... the man he had become?

  26 - Shultz

  "Governor, I realize that this is ... extraordinary ... and right now you're asking yourself why I want to hand you the biggest discovery in human history. It's not complicated, we want the same thing— to stop Modi. Mars is the best option for that ... you are the best option ..."

  Shultz paused the message playback and leaned back in his chair, frowning. This was his third time playing it. Jung was now in the office, sitting on the couch and leaning forward, looking down at the floor. He was listening rather than watching. But, Shultz found that he liked to see the speaker's face when being addressed, whether it was boardroom meetings or messages like this. On the wall opposite his desk, Reinhardt's face was frozen on the screen. It was pinched, a light sheen of sweat glistened over her top lip, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her pale, gold hair was perfect, the work of a stylist perhaps, but the rest said the woman was in pain.

  "Where did we get this?" Jung asked, still looking at the floor.

  "It was bounced off the Apex comm satellite that's being used to coordinate the plant construction," he replied.

  Jung sat back and tilted his head toward the ceiling, now. "Okay," he said, thinking.

  "This part you'll find interesting," Shultz said and resumed the message.

  "I know you want what's best for your people, and whatever we find here will help that cause. But, there is a condition. Your privateers are destabilizing out-system. That has to stop. Haulers are refusing to leave the drop-off stations for fear of being attacked, and financial concerns aside, it's creating a new set of problems that the stations are not equipped to deal with. But, the real issue is, again, Modi. You know what he's doing at Archimedes. In effect you're responsible for the creation of more UNSEC patrol ships ... ships that could be used to carry troops to Mars."

  Reinhardt squeezed her eyes and took a breath before continuing.

  "I need your decision soon. Modi will find out about what we've discovered and he'll lockdown Ganymede."

  Her hand reached toward the camera, then the image froze, and after staring at it for a few moments Shultz said, "She certainly has a way with words. We want the same thing. Mars is the best option, I'm the best option, I'm responsible for Modi making new ships. And, how she knows about our connection to the privateers ..."

  "Do you believe her?" Jung asked suddenly. "An alien shipwreck on Ganymede?"

  Shultz shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "This is the first time she's contacted me directly, I can't tell if she's playing some sort of game ... or if she in fact has found something."

  Jung nodded. "What about her motives? Her goal is not the same as ours. Stopping Modi is not what we are aiming for."

  He was right, but Shultz felt it was an issue of semantics. "I think she understands that. Modi is in the way of our goal. If we take her message at face value, let's say it's not some game or trap we don't yet understand, then whatever she's found she believes it will give us an advantage over Modi and the Council. Though, I can't swallow the idea that she's all that concerned for Martians."

  As Jung mulled it over silence settled in, Reinhardt stared at them from the screen. No, she certainly didn't look well.

  "The plant, and this, we're being used," Jung said, levelly.

  "We are," he agreed. "But, let's talk about the privateers. You said you had concerns about them. How much control do we have? Can we rein them in?"

  "I don't know. I won't know until I tell them to stop. Also, something has happened in the Belt. One of the old fueling depots we were using for ore collection has gone dark."

  "Gone dark?" Shultz eyebrows went up and he leaned forward in his chair.

  "Yes," Jung said. "They haven't checked in for several days. They're not exactly on a schedule, but they send a message when a hauler is headed our way. It might just be equipment trouble, or if a UNSEC patrol was nearby they might have simply gone silent to avoid detection."

  Shultz didn't know much about the arrangement with the privateer crews, because Jung wouldn't tell him any details, but he knew there were several old fueling depots out in the Belt, and Jung was using a couple of them as drop-off stations for the ore they acquired before sending it on to Mars to be used by the few illegal refineries supported by the FMN.

  "Or, a patrol has found them," Shultz said, because Jung hadn't said it, and got up out of his chair to pace a few steps. "We might be going to jail sooner than we think."

  Jung shrugged. "There is that."

  Looking out his office window Shultz inhaled deeply and then let it out. They were being used. They were being hunted, even if the hunters didn't know their prey, and Mars was more or less in the middle. Staring out that window he thought of that fateful lunch with Jung ten years ago. They were both district representatives, both casting their gaze on this lofty office. There had been no such thing as elections then, it was more of a popularity contest. Candidates were put forth by all the burrow districts and votes were gathered, then the UN Council selected whom they thought best suited their needs and made them Governor. On occasion someone that was not a candidate was appointed.

  Jung was growing in popularity among the Asian demographics, while he was courting big business. Shultz, having heard good things about Jung decided he wanted to meet him, so they had lunch from a kiosk stand just a few blocks away from this very office. Three hours later they had come to a decision, whoever was selected as governor, he would appoint the other as Lieutenant Governor. The colonial charter allowed that much.

  Shultz snorted. They had been so silly then. Burrow ordinances and replacing old water pipes had been at the top of their list of concerns. But, from that single lunch the proto-dreams of a better Mars had been born. A Mars that wasn't being sapped by the ever growing greed of Modi and the UN Council. He couldn't see that little kiosk stand from here, but he knew that it was covered over with a sheet of corrugated metal. Closed for more than five years now. So many times he and Jung had discussed the future of Mars at a little, white plastic table in front of that stand. In that moment he felt ... oppressed.

  "Do you remember that lunch we had?" He asked Jung, still staring out the window.

  "Yes."

  "Where did you think it was all going, then?"

  His old friend didn't answer for a moment. "I don't know."

  "I think about that day, a lot," Shultz said. "I don't know what I was expecting either. Have we become too ambitious? Should we just go back to arguing ordinances and burrow maintenance and schmoozing with PermaTech?"

  Jung, in an uncommon quantity of movement, got up and came to stand beside him at the window. He looked down at the city below and frowned. "You're asking yourself if you're still the same person you were at that lunch. You are."

  He could have said more, but Jung was economical in all things, especially words. What he had said was enough. Shultz was being too cautious, and that was not who he was. He was the 'impulsive chance taker'. Jung was the 'voice of caution', the fence builder, and while he raised some questions about their being used by Apex, he wasn't telling Shultz to walk away from Reinhardt's offer.

  "I'll contact Susan," he said. "Get her, Desmond, and Armand here. Even if they don't have the PhDs for this kind of thing they're the only ones I trust. We'll use my state courier. Get it stocked and ready to go."

  As Jung wordlessly left the office he fell into his chair and began recording a message to Reinhardt.

  27 - Alexandria

 
; Alexandria tried to sit still on the medbed as the surgeon, a tall woman named Cooley— the woman that had saved her life— ran a medical scanner over her chest, frowning. The stims were giving her the jitters, and Cooley wasn't moving fast enough.

  "Any dizziness?" Cooley asked.

  "No," she said, flat.

  "Headaches?"

  "No."

  Still frowning, Cooley turned to look behind her, and after a second she walked to the counter against one wall of the examination room. She had transferred off the courier with Alexandria and into the corporate clinic located in the base's admin offices.

  Suddenly something small and white hit Alexandria in her chest, and rattled as it rolled down into her lap and folded hands. It was a pill bottle. Narrowing her eyes she picked it up, then looked at Cooley and cocked an eyebrow. When Rachael was three, in a temper tantrum she had thrown a handcomm at Alexandria. It had been a revelation that she was spoiling her child, and both of them had not repeated the mistake.

  "You're suffering from exhaustion," Cooley told her. "You're having trouble focusing, your reflexes are shot, and the amount of acetaminophen in your system says you're having headaches."

  Alexandria swallowed and pursed her lips. "Congratulations, doctor, you just discovered that you have a patient that lies to you."

  Greg would not have selected a timid staff to go with her, and Cooley plowed on. "You need to stop the stims, and go to bed." She leaned back against the counter, then folding her arms across her chest, added, "That's my professional opinion."

  Cooley had been moderately pleased with the progress of her healing, but since their arrival at Ganymede Alexandria was adding more hours to her days, or simply not ending her days. She spent a lot of time at the crater with Kirkendorf and his men.