"Still, found technology is usually old technology,” Nestor said. "They’ll probably turn out to be old Minoan ruins.”
"But it doesn’t appear that any celestial body in G-145 supported Gaian-based life. Moreover, would the Minoans have abandoned an inactive time buoy?” Matt dropped the biggest bombshell of all.
Nestor took off his lenses and set them down. Tiny squiggles of light still ran down the left lens. He rubbed his eyes before saying, "I thought the only way to turn off a time buoy was to destroy it with a TD weapon.”
"That’s what the Minoans would have us believe. Of course, Ari and I are only making assumptions about this artifact—but everything points to a space-based civilization.”
Matt told Nestor the entire story of the bot and the artifact.
"After I got into the bay’s air lock, Ari chewed me out. Then she lectured me on the dangers of bringing the ship close to an uncontrolled artificial gravity source. I let her go on”—Matt shrugged—"because she saved my ass out there. And I got all the sensor data taken by the bot on approach to the artifact.”
"Now I know why you submitted that problem report to DiastimBot Instrumentation. They started investigating, and they claim they haven’t found a failure mode that produces the behavior you described.”
"Keep on them,” Matt said grimly. "If they can’t come up with an explanation, I might take my business elsewhere. Maybe you can hint that my disposition could be sweetened with a partial refund or credit.”
"They’ve asked whether you had it serviced by an unapproved facility or replaced any parts, perhaps with military surplus.” Nestor’s glance slid sideways questioningly.
Matt snorted. "Don’t be ridiculous.”
"That’s what I told them.” Nestor leaned back, looked thoughtful, and brought his fingertips together in a tent shape. "In a way, this may be good for us. The best and strongest way of proving pedis possessio is to leave markers, although that’s not required these days.”
"That bot’s a hellishly expensive marker.”
"Yes, but this is an unusual claim. We could learn a lot from this artifact and I bet we see all sorts of legal hijinks as everyone tries to get a piece of the action. Most of all, I’m worried about the Minoans.” Nestor didn’t have to add any more. The Minoans had a stranglehold over the creation of time buoys; would they permit mankind the means to end their economic control?
"It’s too late. CAW had their blessing when the Pilgrimage III launched; there’s no turning back now.” Matt thought about the Minoan waiting for them when they docked. He wondered whether it was the result of random curiosity, or whether other G-145 prospectors had met the same observation.
"Without the Minoans, we’d still be shooting off satellites and hoping to colonize the Helios moon, for Gaia’s sake—that’s if we’d survived the Yellowstone extinction event.”
"And we’ve repaid them with a century of lucrative trade. Besides, they’re fanatical about following governmental controls. They won’t be disrupting our exploration legal processes.” Matt tried to convince himself, more than Nestor.
"Well, we’ve got future IP to protect. I’ve tuned and tested the girls; I’ll let them loose on your first drafts.” Nestor always worked the intellectual property issues within the claims first, considering IP to have more potential for making money. He put his lenses back on and made a show of cracking his knuckles.
Fortunately, they weren’t treading on new legal ground. The mechanisms for laying down optical data in layers of crystal had come from the research and development on strange crystalline structures found on asteroids in the Konstantinople system by a relatively unknown prospector. What that prospector lacked in renown, he made up for in wealth.
Matt indulged in thoughts of financial independence, feeling a thrill of glee in his chest. Even at the small percentages given a second-wave prospector, this could be his mother lode. He could pay off the loans that loomed over decades and decades of his future; he might eventually own Aether’s Touch outright. Ari and Nestor could end up with retirement nest eggs, getting their percentages from the complicated but time-honored system that CAW used to generate exploration and expansion.
Nestor displayed a representation of Matt’s data, which looked like a round green blob with layers of wire shells. The wire shells represented Matt’s initial claims and lease structure. This simple visual representation let them follow the progress of Nestor’s agents, which were sophisticated but not as competent as full AI, of course.
"Go at it, girls,” Nestor said.
A swarm of orange descended on the blob, probing and exploring the shells. Every once in a while, a small orange speck would separate and whiz by the screen, resolving into an avatar that looked like a female sprite with outlandishly large breasts. Nestor claimed he programmed his analysis agents for business purposes, but he did take liberties with their avatars.
A shaft of orange penetrated deep and swiftly into the data, causing both men to exclaim in surprise.
"Good work, Ari. Send results to a new viewport,” Nestor said. A sprite flew close to the imaginary screen and winked.
"It’s good to give them individual names, so you can make use of reward and competition patterns,” Nestor said in an aside to Matt. "It supports their learning behaviors.”
"Of course.” Matt kept his voice as bland as Nestor’s.
The sprite had a remarkable resemblance to Ari, although the real Ari certainly did not sport breasts of that size. Nestor couldn’t take the hint that he wasn’t Ari’s type. What was her type? Probably some stiff military dick like Owen Edones, Matt thought sourly, although he was sure Ari had no amorous feelings for the man. Instead, he suspected she owed Edones something, and Edones twisted Ari’s sense of obligation and duty for his own purposes.
The way Ari had left, without a message, really stung. This time Matt had asked her not to go. Didn’t that mean anything to her?
"Here’s the problem,” said Nestor, unaware that Matt had taken a hiatus. "You mapped out the extent of the culturally significant ruins, but it may not be enough. We should make allowances for possible archaeological finds surfacing during mining or excavation outside that extent. Perhaps we should do the same for natural resource discovery. . . .”
While Nestor tested potential clauses, Matt shook off thoughts of Ari. He needed to concentrate on the future—his future.
"I want to divide up the placer claims for the moon and the artifact. Make them smaller in scope and functionally interdependent,” said Matt.
"That’ll make your leases a bitch to administer.”
"Smaller companies might be able to bid on the leases.” Matt had a feeling this was the right thing to do, even if it necessitated more work for Nestor.
"On the other hand, you raise the overhead costs and the contractors have to adjust their bids, plus they’ll have to share information. I strongly recommend you leave these as large, singular claims. It’ll be a nightmare, mark my words.”
Matt did mark his warning, but he also insisted that Nestor do the extra work. Aether Exploration, aka Matt, might suffer exponential administrative overload, but it gave him ways to leverage bidders against each other.
"It’s almost time.” The agents were fluttering anxiously about the time display and Nestor tapped them off. "We’ll submit them and see how we fare.”
Matt nodded and swallowed hard. His next few weeks would be spent reading bids. As long as his claims stood up legally and he "pursued discovery” within the next six months, he had "working interest” in the claim. He controlled who got leases to work the claims, and while some net-think mouths screamed nepotism, CAW exploratory law ensured that it was in Matt’s best interest to lease his claims to the most efficient and effective companies. The government still got its percentage and, in a way, Matt ended up doing much of its job and being a front for the CAW Space Exploration, Exploitation, and Economics Control Board, or SEEECB.
When Nestor connected back to ComNet
, Matt gasped as he saw the net-think activity that had already occurred regarding the return of Aether’s Touch. He watched Nestor submit the claims under Aether Exploration, Ltd.
"Don’t worry.” Nestor slapped Matt’s back. "This’ll be a real circus, so let me monitor our assets and IP.”
Matt rubbed his temples. The environmental changes between the ship and the habitat had given him a pounding headache, and arguing with Edones and the inspector hadn’t helped.
"There’s something else I’d like you to do,” Matt said.
"Standard fees apply.”
Matt hesitated at this comment. Nestor might live in perpetual adolescence, but he was good at what he did and could demand high rates for his research. This job would be costly, but Matt needed it done. "I’d like you to personally do background checks on the inspectors for customs. Quietly and without subcontracting.”
"You could hire my kid brother for that.” Nestor fiddled with the settings on his view lenses.
"You don’t have a kid brother.”
At least not by grav-hugger standards. CAW classified both of them as generational orphans because they opted off their ships. Matt’s biological father, with whom he had a passing familiarity, had opted off the same time as Matt but had settled only Gaia knew where. Nestor and Matt had met on Konstantinople Prime at the Generational Mission Orphanage of St. Darius, the wandering Ottoman saint that started the sect followed on generational ships. Nestor’s opt-off point came at a younger age than Matt’s did, their lives ruled by the almighty ship schedule so they couldn’t control opt-off times. Contrary to Nestor’s condescending attitude, he was the younger one, discounting time dilation and using absolute UT.
"If it’s so easy, then you could work for half your standard rate,” Matt added. "There’s more. I’m looking for any unusual interest in G-145 prospectors, by either customs or Minoans.”
"Still have to bill you standard fees.” Nestor grinned. "It’ll require, let’s say, some bending of privacy laws. I’ll also have to break Consortium bank security to figure out where the bribes are coming from.”
"Okay, standard fees apply. I’ll also pay for AI-ACCELERATED time.”
"Done, and have I got the AI for you! If you’re willing to pay eighty percent acceleration, that is. I can’t let it work for less.”
Matt looked at Nestor doubtfully. "Is it legal?”
"I just told you we’ll be breaking laws to track down the payments, and you’re getting snarled up about the tools I use?”
"Fine. Use what you have to, just don’t leave a trail to the company.” Matt shrugged.
"Can I take this research wherever it might go?” Nestor raised his lenses but he wouldn’t look at Matt directly, focusing on the wall behind him.
"Huh?”
"Suppose this requires digging into somebody’s background?”
"You know everything about me, and—oh.” Matt stopped. Nestor was referring to Ari. "You saw the background check on her. I did that before I hired her.”
"Sure. Born thirty-five years ago on Nuovo Adriatico, entered military academy at twenty, parents are dead, et cetera, et cetera.” Nestor waved his arms in vague motions. "All Gaia and good feelings, right? Conveniently there seemed to be no one who knew her way back when on Nuovo Adriatico.”
"So? All the records were cross-checked and her references were solid. And she’s been a damn fine pilot.” Matt’s stomach tensed with uneasiness. In a world where so many might be out of step, where any generational orphan might not be up to date on the latest music, v-plays, or recreational drinks and drugs, Ari always fit in well enough. Her records were correct in claiming she wasn’t generational. She was comfortable in wide-open planetary environments where Matt crumpled and quailed. That behavior was so instinctual that one couldn’t act around it.
"I’m saying there might be some dirt there and you’d better be prepared. What’s an open, honest girl like her doing for someone like Edones? Ever think about that?”
Of course, he had. Matt didn’t answer. Ari had experience beyond her known history, and every once in a while, she acted as if Colonel Owen Edones, who was superficially older and higher ranking, was her subordinate.
"I’m thinking she might be a shadow,” Nestor said.
Matt burst out laughing. "You’re running too many v-plays, you know that?”
Shadows were net-think myths: CAW agents with falsified records laid down in immutable memory by the government, usually so they could operate as assassins or do some other skullduggery. This made for good v-play, but changing immutable memory was impossible and rational citizens questioned the concept.
"Okay, okay.” Nestor started chuckling too. "I just want to know whether I can follow this wherever it leads.”
"Do what you need to do.”
Matt had to have faith in his original background check of Ari. She rarely talked about herself or her history, but that wasn’t necessarily suspicious. He tried to shove away memories of her nightmares and stifle all his doubts, particularly when he thought about Edones. For some reason, the assignments Edones gave Ari always led to binges. Her heavy drinking and recreational drugging, although legal, had been a point of contention between them. Matt had offered to pay for addiction reprogramming, but fear had flitted quickly over her face and she’d whispered, "Not allowed.” He never brought it up again. After all, Ari had proven herself plenty of times aboard the Aether’s Touch. She was crew.
He gathered up the case and packing materials for the crystal. For the next month, Aether Exploration had to allow bidders access to the exaLOBs of information they’d gathered during the prospecting season. Once companies applied with the SEEECB, they received access to the crystal sitting in Nestor’s "wall o’ data.”
Matt picked up the empty case. Nestor was opening small transparent screens over his right eye. The images weren’t sharp from Matt’s viewpoint, but the tiny squares looked like porn v-plays. Granted, Nestor hadn’t yet grabbed the v-play face shield, gloves, or other, ahem, attachments for the virtual experience.
"That’s so juvenile—couldn’t you at least wait for me to leave?” Matt headed for the exit.
Nestor looked at him, his uncovered left eye bright, blue, and unrepentant. "I checked with Carmen just before you arrived.”
"Oh.” Matt paused. "How’s she doing?”
"Just as experimental as always. Said she’d like to see you.” Nester snickered. "Well, what are you waiting for? It’s been more than six months, hasn’t it? So get going!”
Matt complied.
N-space pilots are hard to come by, Matt had said, and Nestor didn’t know the half of it. Five years ago, Matt thought he’d sunk to his lowest, both emotionally and financially.
A beer bottle sailed over his head, bounced off the bulkhead, but still managed to spray him. The fight broke out, directly in front of him. Grabbing both his newly served and nearly finished beers, he slid quickly down his chair to take cover under his table. Chairs and tables were bolted to the deck because this was just that sort of place.
Matt didn’t usually patronize this bar, which catered to rough dockworkers and space crew and had a reputation for economical alcohol and drugs. But prior-military pilots on the down-and-out supposedly hung about this place, looking to find employment.
The Aether’s Touch had been upgraded and now qualified as a second-wave prospector vessel, but Matt’s debt load had grown to eighty years. He’d managed to get the Journey ship line to finance much of the necessary upgrades, considering he’d been born to that line and the Journey IV would soon be opening a new solar system. He still needed, however, an N-space pilot and he couldn’t pay competitive wages. As added incentive, he tried throwing in company ownership and prospecting percentages, but he’d had no nibbles and he was getting desperate.
Anybody could get licenses for airborne vehicles, and private citizens could finance the training for operating in real-time space, working in orbital operations. Matt needed someone who
could work both real-space and N-space, which was the kicker. Being qualified to pilot N-space was not for the mathematically challenged, since it required a capacity altogether different from aerodynamics and momentum-based physics. N-space didn’t have the natural, and by now instinctive, forces like gravity or momentum or lift. It was also physically demanding, because the pilot had to remain awake during nous-transit, the technical name for moving through N-space. During this time, they fought off subliminal terrors using drugs. The training was beyond the financial capacities of the average citizen, unless one received it through military duty.
The bar fight started with two men going at each other. Locked rigidly together, the men stumbled against Matt’s table. Matt heard a high unintelligible yell and saw a small body fly through the air. He leaned forward and peered upward to get a better look. All three brawlers wore crew coveralls.
"Olaf, you’ll be sorry, you—” The voice was that of a young woman, but the stream of profanity that followed could have burned the ears of any grizzled space veteran.
The woman, clinging to Olaf’s back, moved her forearm up around his throat and executed a sharp movement that seemed expert and military, in Matt’s opinion. Olaf let go and fell back insensate, pinning the woman partially under his body. The man he’d been going after staggered away, retching and hacking.
Matt crawled forward and pushed Olaf off the woman, who scrambled upright. She looked around and then ducked under the table with Matt, since the brawl started spreading through the bar like fungus across a growth pond. Matt saw she was small but older than an adolescent. How much older, he couldn’t tell.
"Thanks,” she said, extending her hand.
"It was nothing.” Matt shook it, noticing uncommon strength in the slim fingers.
She had short dark hair that formed in loose curls wild about her face. Her brown eyes were bright but deep, set in a face that had the angular, hollow lines of an N-space pilot.
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