Port Casper (Cladespace Book 1)

by Corey Ostman

  Grace followed Gobi onto the street. They had ten minutes before the meeting, wherever it was. She kept about half a step behind Gobi, scanning for danger. Grace resented not being briefed on potential threats. It was impossible to watch everything. So she focused on the transports, the people within ten meters, and vantage points in front and behind. Her attention narrowed as they entered the corporate headquarters of Unlimited Unlimited.

  The lobby was shabbier than ITB’s. The pale blue decor was from a decade earlier. There was no pattern to the seating arrangement: a long sofa sat at an obtuse angle to a pair of chairs. It reminded Grace of Raj’s apartment. Without the mechflesh components scattered everywhere.

  Gobi marched up to the front desk.

  “Rendilon Gobi, Vice Minister of Patents. I am here for the quarterly product review.”

  “Welcome, sir. You are expected,” said the middle-aged man behind the desk. “You may proceed to conference room eight hundred and one.”

  Grace and Rendilon took the lift to the eighth floor. As they exited, Grace noticed a small crowd of people to the left. A short, older lady with long brown hair approached Gobi, beaming.

  “Rendilon, I’m so happy you could make it,” she said.

  He gave her a warm embrace. “Good to see you, Samantha. Is your team ready to begin?”

  “Yes. Our engineers are assembled. Now that you’re here, we can start.”

  The lady ushered Gobi inside the conference room without a glance at Grace, who followed along behind.

  The conference room was longer than it was wide, with the same blue decor as the lobby. A bronze metallic table ran down the center of the room, with enough seats for thirty people. Most of the spots were taken.

  Samantha escorted the vice minister to a seat at the head of the conference table. Grace nodded at other protectors in the room. Most stood along the walls, behind their charges. Grace assumed a similar position behind Gobi, discretely activating her dermal dot.

  Samantha stood at the lectern.

  “Welcome to the Unlimited Unlimited Quarterly Technology Review. Before we get started, I’d like to give special thanks to Vice Minister Rendilon Gobi for taking time from his busy schedule to attend our meeting. Working closely with the ministry allows us to bring technologies to market faster.”

  Gobi smiled, nodding toward Samantha. She continued.

  “Some of you are already aware of rumors regarding an advanced computer. For those who are not, let me offer some background. A few months ago, we were approached by a known inventor claiming to have produced a liquid computer. I need not say, such an advancement would not only make for increased computing density, but would also have profound applications in linking computers to neurons, and to aiding space travel, where harsh accelerations have proved disastrous for traditional crystalline circuitry.”

  The surface of the conference table sprang to life, shimmering with schematics and charts.

  “As you can see on chart seven, we have attempted various deposition technologies in the past. The more three-dimensional a computer becomes, the more susceptible it is to acceleration fractures. The more layers we deposit, the less flexible the design becomes. A liquid computer would solve these problems.”

  The sound level increased as small, enthusiastic conversations began to multiply.

  Gobi cleared his throat. “These rumors of a prototype surfaced some time ago,” he said. “Is the inventor’s version a competing technology with the Cloister Eleven model, or the same?”

  Grace startled at the mention of her cloister. The expressions of the other protectors showed they, too, exhibited intense interest. Strange indeed for advanced technology to show up in a cloister. She thought of Raj.

  “The rumor of a liquid computer in Cloister Eleven is unsubstantiated—” Samantha began.

  “Whether it is unsubstantiated or not,” Gobi replied, “I’m sure all of you are aware ITB is claiming to have access to the Cloister Eleven version for reverse engineering?”

  Samantha smiled derisively. “ITB says many things, but we are working with an actual inventor, and the patents will be clear,” she said. “May I continue?”

  Gobi dipped his head in assent.

  “The inventor has demonstrated a prototype of the liquid computer. In addition, he has given us remote access to a logic network using the same technology. We hope to bring this technology to market next quarter.”

  Grace saw smiles and nods around the table.

  “Now, let’s review our mining operations…”

  The meeting droned on for another two hours. Grace imperceptibly shifted her weight from foot to foot, a technique she had learned at the academy while standing in formation. She was not terribly interested in the different technologies being discussed. More monstrosities to splice onto children, no doubt.

  She pondered the Cloister Eleven rumor. What did Raj know about it? Or her father, for that matter? Dad was a natural at collecting gossip. It was high time she called home anyway.

  “Thank you for attending,” Samantha concluded.

  Gobi pushed back his chair and stood. He shook hands with the participants near him and discreetly moved over to Grace.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  They walked through the lobby and outside. Gobi manipulated his ptenda, and moments later, an empty mover arrived. He got aboard and, without a word to Grace, sat back as the mover sped off. She watched as it turned a corner and disappeared. Self-absorbed jerk.

  It was an hour before lunch. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she decided to go back to the Freer Diner anyway. It would give her a chance to sit down and transmit her audio report to ITB.

  The diner looked different, devoid of the breakfast rush. The tabletops were polished white, most with a network of blackened cracks. She could actually see the floor, which was a mottled mosaic of gum and old green tile. A few images of Port Casper from orbit hung on the wall. Grace reached out and straightened the frame nearest to her. Feeling like a creature of habit, Grace sat in the same booth as before, and ordered an iced tea. She discretely manipulated her ptenda and sent her report, as the manual dictated. A few moments later, she received a simple message:

  REPORT TO ME IMMEDIATELY.

  Chapter 15

  The door between the antechamber and office was closed again. Just like before, Grace heard voices coming from behind the door. She remembered Raj’s instructions and paired her ptenda with her mimic fabric. Her suit acted as a large microphone, and she heard garbled phrases from the office. A man’s voice. He spoke rapidly, and though the ptenda had difficulty locking in on pitch, it sounded like he was angry.

  One word was clear, because it was repeated often: “Gobi.” She also thought she heard “Cloister Eleven.”

  The voice sounded familiar to Grace: a distinct accent. She fiddled with the controls again, but the voices stopped.

  “Come in, Protector Donner.”

  Van Decker was behind her desk. Grace tried to read her expression. It wasn’t anger, at least.

  “Close the door behind you, and have a seat.”

  Grace sat. Her back pressed into the comfortable cushion as she waited for Van Decker to speak.

  “I’ve listened to your recording, Donner.” Van Decker looked at Grace and frowned, her eyes squinting. “When I ask a protector to keep her eyes and ears open, I want everything. What did you and the vice minister discuss before the meeting? What about after?”

  “We barely spoke. Nothing important,” Grace said, locking her eyes with the other woman.

  “How would you judge if something were important?”

  There is something odd about Van Decker’s behavior, Grace thought. Was she pretending to be upset? There wasn’t a hint of the emotion that would exist if her boss were truly angry. Grace thought back to Red Fox Academy and her last conversation with Commandant Huber. Now that was honest emotion.

  “My apologies,” Grace said. “You’re correct, of course. I can relate o
ur complete conversation in its entirety.”

  Van Decker raised an eyebrow.

  “In its entirety?” she said. “You’re fresh out of cloister, Donner. Don’t tell me you have a grafty.”

  “No. But a good memory.”

  “Proceed.”

  Grace related the conversation at the diner. She mentioned Gobi’s concern about being followed and his comment about his life being in danger.

  “He’s a paranoid bureaucrat. A typical gene addict,” Van Decker said, waving her hand dismissively. “What did you notice at the meeting?”

  The two protectors reviewed the audio of the Unlimited Unlimited conference. At one point, Maud interrupted the playback and asked Grace if anybody mentioned the identity of the inventor.

  “No, I didn’t catch any names. Neither at the meeting nor during the chit-chat afterwards,” Grace said. “But isn’t that typical, to protect inventor identity?”

  “Yes, but people slip.” Maud steepled her fingers. “Did Gobi say anything after the meeting?”

  “He wanted me to escort him to a mover. I did, and he left alone.”

  “Anything else, Donner?”

  “No, Protector Van Decker.” Grace had the nagging feeling she’d given information her boss already knew.

  “Good. You may go. We’ll contact you with another assignment shortly.”

  Grace left the office, confused about the interview. She wondered why she had been placed in a spying situation with no advanced briefing. The snippet, “Cloister Eleven,” she had heard beforehand made her ponder. Was that a reference to the invention? Or to her?

  • • •

  Raj’s apartment sensed Grace’s ptenda and unlocked. She opened the door. Gone were the usual tangy odors of spiced vegetables. She smelled the wonderfully fragrant sweetness of cooked meat and heard the sizzling sound of Raj working the grill.

  Tim was curled up on a chair. He lifted his head. “Hello, Ms. Donner.”

  Raj raised a hand in welcome. “Help yourself to a drink, Grace. The steaks will be done soon.”

  She sauntered over to what could charitably be called a bar. She counted thirty-six two-liter steel cylinders with copper tubing looping from one to another. Raj’s “bar” was an ethanol synthesizer. His medical training gave him the tools to modify fungal DNA. It reminded Grace of her father’s still back home, only this one had digital displays. She was sure the contraption was illegal, like most of Raj’s hobbies.

  Grace inspected the collection of vessels and tubes, in search of spigots. She finally located six colorful faucets, labeled stout, pale ale, whisky, cabernet sauvignon, vodka, and tongba. It was all going to be room temperature, so she chose the cabernet.

  Grace returned to the kitchen with her glass. She took small sips, enjoying its dusty cherry taste. She decided that something tasting this good should be legal, after all.

  Raj flipped a hunk of steak with his left hand and sucked the juices from his fingertips.

  “Any intrigue today?”

  “Not hygienic, Raj,” Grace chided.

  “The grill’s too hot and the sauce is too acidic for bacteria,” he said. “Stop changing the subject.”

  “I’ll tell you more when we eat. I’m starving.”

  “A couple more minutes,” he said, flipping the other steak. “Grab some plates. The spuds and beans are in the oven.”

  Grace set the table for two. Tim sat up so that he was eye-level with the table. She heard the smack-smack of Raj sucking his fingers and tried not to pay attention.

  Raj arrived with the steaks in his left hand and a glass in the other. He put the bigger cut on her plate, then wiped his hands on his smock and sat down. Grace was temporarily distracted from her steak by the contents of Raj’s cup: bright red liquid with suspended pink droplets.

  “What the hell is that?” she asked.

  “This, my dear, is from brother Kyran.” He picked it up and pretended to smell it and admire the color. “The roiders on Ceres invented it out of necessity. They had plenty of pure ethanol but little to flavor it, so they introduced ligament oil.”

  “The stuff that’s in your arm?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Same stuff. There are always drums available when steelbacks are nearby. It’s harmless, but does have a nice red color and the flavor isn’t bad.” Raj grinned. “Want some?”

  “Er, no thanks. I’m still trying to get your finger sucking out of my head before I eat.”

  It was hard to resist such a beautiful steak, though. Soon she and Raj were eating hungrily, no sound except for the scrape of knife and fork. Grace hadn’t enjoyed a good steak in years. While this wasn’t true ranch cooking, Raj was good with the grill. The steak was bright red inside, tender and well-seasoned. It was certainly far better than academy grub.

  “So what happened with your Mr. Gobi?” Raj cut another bite of steak, using his knife to include a smear of potato.

  Grace talked around a mouthful. “We met at the Freer Diner across from UU. He went to a meeting and left in a mover.”

  “What was the meeting about?”

  “A technology review. UU is probably going to file some patents and that’s why the vice minister was there.”

  “Does UU have something special coming?”

  Grace knew she shouldn’t be discussing it. But this was Raj, after all. And he sounded a little too eager in his questions. “The big news was a special computer, a liquid computer, that some inventor is going to license to them.”

  Raj choked on his food. He recovered and took a big gulp of the red stuff.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, went down the wrong pipe.” But Raj didn’t meet her eyes.

  “The weird part is that Cloister Eleven had the technology, or at least a precursor.”

  She unreeled the data slowly, watching him for a reaction. There couldn’t be two inventors with Cloister Eleven connections. Even if there were, Raj would have his steak-juice fingers all over new tech like that.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, supposedly a prototype was discovered in Cloister Eleven. Surely you’ve heard that rumor by now.”

  “Nope. Haven’t heard anything like that.” A nervous laugh. Raj was an awful liar.

  Grace heard an unusual sound from the PodPooch. It was nearly a chuckle. He looked like he was coughing up a shoe. Tim turned to Raj.

  “Raj, tell her.”

  Grace looked at Raj as his eyes tried to avoid hers.

  “Ms. Donner. Raj Chanho is the inventor of the liquid computer you heard about today.”

  “Tim, stop!” Raj’s command proved too late.

  “Thanks, Tim,” Grace said. “And I don’t see why you didn’t tell me before, Raj. It’s not like I can’t draw a connection between ‘blue gel’ and ‘liquid computer.’”

  “Sorry, Grace,” Raj sighed. “I honestly didn’t want to put you in danger. These companies are ruthless.”

  “Except I joined ITB and walked into a business meeting discussing your work.”

  Raj ate another mouthful to keep from talking.

  “So they know about the first milliliter of liquid computer?” Tim said.

  Raj nodded his head, mumbling around his food.

  “Will they be able to replicate it?”

  Raj thought for a moment. “No. Grace said Huber destroyed it. Even if they had a sample, the chemical matrix isn’t useful without knowing how to grow the computational structures.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Grace said. “You’re telling me Flora’s dermal dot is what they were after?” Grace moved her hand to the side of her head and peeled off her dot. “You have me walking around with this?” Her temples pounded.

  “No, Grace,” Raj said. “That dermal is normal. I picked it up for you the day of your arrival. You can put it back on.”

  She looked at Raj. The machinations were beginning to mesh. Raj had used her as an experiment. That dot in academy wasn’t for help: it was Raj’s equivalent of a hacke
r signature—he couldn’t resist showing off. She looked at the dermal in her hand. Could she trust him? With all of his illegal activity and his lack of caution, he could easily destroy her career before it began.

  Grace pushed back her chair and stood. She could feel anger seething in her chest.

  “I have to go,” she said.

  Chapter 16

  The building was quiet. Most of the day staff had left for home, and the halls were relatively devoid of activity. Maud sat at her desk, the office door closed. Directly across from her sat Tadi Varghese.

  “Sir,” she began, “I have the recording of the UU meeting today.”

  Varghese reclined and smiled at Maud. “Pray continue.”

  Playback began. Maud watched Varghese as he listened. She heard Gobi’s voice, but didn’t pay attention to his words.

  “Idiot,” Varghese said.

  Maud grimaced but said nothing. In her experience, it was always best to let Varghese finish speaking before offering anything of her own.

  Varghese got up and began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “We had long-term operatives in Cloister Eleven. Unimpeachable operatives. Only two or three people even knew we took tech from a cloister. Nobody would have suspected them if Gobi hadn’t opened his mouth.” Varghese reached the end of the room and spun around, pacing in the opposite direction.

  Rendilon Gobi had been on ITB payroll long before Maud joined the company. Judging by Varghese’s reaction, his mouth had finally become too big for his worth.

  “We identified the connection to Cloister Eleven and UU’s inventor,” Varghese said, fists swinging at his sides.

  Maud narrowed her eyes. She had found the connection, not we.

  “And we alerted Gobi so he could keep an eye out for this inventor at other firms.” Varghese stopped and turned to face Maud. “And what does he do next? What does he do, Maud?”

  “I know,” she said quietly.

  “He tells UU that the technology was already discovered and that ITB is involved.”

  Varghese walked over to the door.