The Daedalus Incident

by Michael J. Martinez

“What the hell happened here, Jain?” Harry said. His usual put-upon look was gone; concern and worry lined his face. “I heard one of my guys is dead?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Jack Heath,” she said, spitting the words at him.

  Harry looked taken aback. “Oh, my God.” He turned to look at Stephane, who came up behind Shaila. “Durand, what happened?”

  Shaila cut the planetologist off with a wave of her hand. “You know damn well, Harry. Where you been this morning?”

  “What do you mean, where have I been?” Harry said. “I was doing paperwork on base when one of my ops sites collapsed!”

  “Wrong answer.” She pointed at Harry’s chest. “Where’s your suit beacon?”

  The mining executive looked down, but couldn’t see his chest through the bulky suit, and instead used his hands to feel around. “What the hell?” he muttered.

  Shaila, meanwhile, flagged Adams, who had accompanied the rescue team. “Lt. Adams, escort Mr. Yu back to base and confine him to quarters. The colonel and I will have a chat with him when I get back.”

  “You have got to be kidding me!” Harry shouted. “I’ve got a crisis here!”

  “Save it,” Shaila said. “You’ve done enough today. Adams, get him out of here.”

  The young lieutenant approached Harry, taking him by the arm and pulling him back toward the entrance of the mine. Harry staggered along with him, looking back at Shaila with anger and confusion.

  Shaila watched him go with a satisfied smirk. Bastard.

  Greene sidled up next to her and pressed a comm button on her gauntlet, switching her to a private channel. “You know you’re pushing it here, Lieutenant,” he said.

  She wheeled on him, but the look of concern on his face sapped her anger almost immediately. “You saw the logs. You know he was out there, he and his people. They put this EM ring out there.”

  “The correlation’s weak,” Greene countered gently. “On the face of it, there still isn’t enough energy to prompt a collapse, either here or at the lava tube.”

  Shaila frowned. “Then we’ll find wherever that extra energy is coming from. And I’ll bet Harry knows.” She was about to elaborate when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Stephane, tapping his helmet. She quickly switched channels. “Yeah, Steve.”

  He simply held up his sensor pack. There were trace readings of Cherenkov radiation and ambient EM fields. “It is here, too.”

  Shaila nodded and patted him on the shoulder, then—with a wicked grin toward Greene—went back to finish coordinating the rescue team. Whatever was going on, Harry Yu was going to pay for it big time.

  CHAPTER 15

  May 4, 1779

  Father,

  Having been upon the seas of Callisto for but a day, I may say with certainty that I know why the Xan have kept this world, above all others, for themselves, as it is nothing short of a Paradise.

  I have sailed many seas, but never have I seen such crystal clear oceans, nor have I felt such sweet, steady breezes. The lands we have seen thus far are unspoiled, verdant and lush—and seemingly untouched by the hands of either man or Xan. The seas teem with life, but we dare not take harvest of the strange fish or turtle-like creatures we have seen, for we know not if this would upset the denizens of this world, or even sicken us should we try to eat them. I personally had to remind Dr. Finch—twice—to refrain from disturbing these animals. He has finally satisfied himself with scribbling madly in one of his journals and frequently consulting Dr. Franklin about this particular sea creature, or that singular tree spotted upon the shore. The rest of us go about our duties as best we can, trying to keep from becoming distracted by the new world around us….

  “And that is how you mark noon on Callisto,” Weatherby said to the gathered midshipmen, pointing to his sextant. “You must always remember to account for your path ‘round Jupiter, as well as the position of the Sun, when marking noon here. Understood?”

  The mids nodded, though really only O’Brian seemed to grasp the concept clearly. Forester would likely catch up later, when reviewing his navigation book, as he always did, and Anne, still attending the classes regularly, would likely master this concept as she did all others. The other three mids, ranging in ages from twelve to twenty, seemed quite lost, and Weatherby would not be surprised if they needed to review a text whilst buckling their shoes.

  Then again, Weatherby had to look up the procedure himself, so rare was keel-fall on the Xan’s Jovian colony moon.

  Finch gave a yawn as the mids fiddled with their sextants. Weatherby could sympathize, to a degree—the calculations involved in navigation, while complex, were likely child’s play to any alchemist worth his salt. Furthermore, the doctor’s interests lay more with the planet itself, and the Xan in particular. Those enigmatic aliens also concerned Weatherby, which is why he had the doctor attend the mids’ class, despite the rote repetition of basic mathematics.

  “And now, let’s pay attention to Dr. Finch,” Weatherby said with a small smile. “Doctor, if you would, please tell us what you might know about Callisto and the Xan.”

  Looking as if he were just awakened from a nap, Finch scowled at Weatherby but nonetheless rose from his seat to take Weatherby’s place at the mizzenmast. “Best to keep it simple,” Weatherby whispered as they passed. Finch’s scowl simply grew deeper, but he at least made a go of it.

  “Very well then, Mr. Weatherby. Callisto and the Xan,” Finch cleared his throat. “Now, we English discovered the Xan here on Callisto back in 1578, thanks to Sir Francis Drake. There had been landings before, it seemed, by the Spanish, and Drake had been issued a letter of marque by Queen Elizabeth to pursue them amongst the Known Worlds. For whatever reason, the Spanish either never encountered the Xan, never made such an encounter public, or the Xan dispatched them forthwith once they arrived here. So it is Drake who is credited with making peaceful contact with them—at the very same port we now sail for, I should add. Of course, it’s the only port we’ve ever been able to find here.

  “Of that first encounter, we gleaned little, and have gleaned little more since,” Finch said. “Drake saw a single Xan here on Callisto, and this worthy was said to be exceptionally tall, some say ten feet or more, but completely obscured by heavy robes. Subsequent encounters have all failed to produce even this sighting, as the Xan now opt for complete secrecy, speaking only through melodic voices that cannot be pinpointed to any source—a marvel in and of itself.

  “While here, Drake was told that Saturn, not Callisto, was the homeworld of the Xan, and that they lived within cities upon the very rings of that planet. A few intrepid astronomers on Ganymede have claimed to make out these cities when viewing Saturn, but none have submitted enough proof to the Royal Academy to substantiate the assertions,” Finch said. He paused to catch his breath, only to see Captain Morrow and Anne, along with Weatherby, listening intently.

  Slightly unnerved at his larger audience, Finch continued: “Drake was told that Callisto was something of a retreat for the Xan, used for some kind of philosophical or religious purpose, it is hard to say. What’s certain is that Drake was given something of an ultimatum. The Xan claimed Callisto for their own, and Saturn and any worlds beyond as well. Visitors from Earth would not be allowed, as these worthies required their privacy—for what reasons we do not know. Drake agreed to their demands, which was seen as particularly odd, since Drake had quite a fearsome reputation as a privateer. Some believe the Xan had made a display of their greater alchemical insights, or advanced technology, which had frightened Drake so that he immediately set course for Earth once more.

  “And that is where things stand today, in brief,” Finch concluded. “The Xan politely turn away visitors to Callisto and, should the visitors fail to depart or become belligerent, they are never seen nor heard from again. And on the few occasions that some brave or foolhardy souls have set course beyond the path of Jupiter, they either encountered severe Void storms and were forced to turn back, or they were
likewise never found.”

  One of the older mids, well into his teens, raised his hand. “What about the stories of men on Callisto, Doctor? I hear there’s a whole tribe of primitives here that we’ve never seen!”

  Finch smiled. “If we’ve not seen them, how do we know they’re here, Mr. Buckland?” Finch allowed the youngster to look confused and embarrassed for a moment before relenting. “I do not know where the rumor has come from, but yes, there has been much conjecture regarding men on Callisto. Some say they are pets of the Xan, kidnapped from Earth long ago. Others say they are the Lost Tribe of Israel, or refugees from Atlantis itself. All of these seem rather unlikely, but with our access to the planet severely curtailed, I fear the answers shall not be forthcoming.”

  Young O’Brian was next. “What do you think will occur here, Doctor? I mean, with us here and all.”

  Finch looked uncomfortably at the captain and Weatherby before continuing. “Speaking only for myself, of course, I would say we shall make our inquiries here, learn very little, and then be asked to leave. And leave we should, most expeditiously, as I’m sure none of us wish to disappear from the Known Worlds forever. But divining the will of the Xan is difficult to say the least, and furthermore, our course of action, naturally, is in the hands of our wise captain.”

  Weatherby saw Morrow arch an eyebrow at this, and seemed to want to comment, but he was interrupted before he could. “Sighting!” came a voice from the tops. “Three points off to larboard!”

  “Sighting of what, exactly?” Morrow muttered as he and Weatherby immediately went for their glasses, peering off the left-hand rail of the quarterdeck. What they saw surprised and amazed them both.

  Several miles off was a silver, ovoid-shaped craft, sitting upright upon the waves, with a number of odd bulges upon it and several spindly protuberances around the base. While without visible sails, the ship was moving at a high speed toward the Daedalus and leaving no wake behind—as if it were above the planet’s gentle waves, not upon them.

  Morrow dropped his glass a moment. “Mr. Weatherby, have the men proceed quietly to their stations, but do not beat to quarters. We must not make a show of aggression. And please ask Ambassador Franklin to join me on the quarterdeck at his soonest convenience.”

  Weatherby wheeled toward his class and repeated the order, propelling the junior officers into motion and having O’Brian summon Foster and Plumb to the quarterdeck. He then went below decks to the midshipmen’s quarters, where he found Franklin perusing an old book on Callisto and making notes. “Ambassador, Captain Morrow requests your presence on the quarterdeck at your earliest convenience. We’ve sighted what appears to be a Xan ship.”

  Franklin’s face immediately turned bright with delight. “We have, indeed! What wonderful news!” The old man grabbed his stick and rose with surprising alacrity. “Lead the way, my boy! I would never have thought I’d live to see one! Did you know they actually may bear some resemblance to conveyances described in ancient Indian texts?”

  Weatherby could not help but smirk at this. “Dr. Franklin, I’m sure I’ve never even seen an ancient Indian text. This way, if you please.”

  Franklin followed Weatherby through the gun deck as the men quietly took their stations. If Franklin was alarmed by the potential aggression involved, he did not show it, instead continuing his discourse. “Well, Mr. Weatherby, the Hindus have their Vedas, rather like our Bible, and these describe—in great detail, mind you!—the chariots of their gods. And the few sightings we have of Xan ships through the years seem to mirror these descriptions! Isn’t that remarkable?”

  “Quite so, sir,” Weatherby said neutrally as he aided the portly ambassador up the stairs toward the main deck.

  The young man’s lack of enthusiasm did not go unnoted. “I know the subject is perhaps dry, Mr. Weatherby,” Franklin said, pausing to mount the last few stairs, his energy finally outstripped by his enthusiasm. “But I wager we may know much more about these Xan people than we even realize!”

  Weatherby aided the ambassador up the few remaining steps to the quarterdeck, whereupon Morrow ordered him to remain there on his glass, and to report all he saw while the captain and Franklin discussed how best to truck with the mysterious, Saturnine aliens. Weatherby was quite surprised to see that, in the few minutes it had taken to dispatch the mids and fetch Franklin, the Xan egg-ship had neatly come up alongside the Daedalus, perhaps only two hundred yards off to larboard.

  Morrow and Franklin consulted in quiet tones, but were quickly interrupted by a voice coming, as Finch had forewarned, seemingly out of nowhere. “Vessel of Earth,” said the voice, loud enough to overcome most conversation yet surprisingly even-toned, with traces of harmonics laced through the words. “We request you state your purpose for visiting Callisto.”

  Morrow turned to Franklin, who shrugged slightly and smiled. “I’ve often held honesty to be the best policy,” the ambassador said. “I suggest we state plainly that we are in pursuit of a criminal who may have come here to disturb them.”

  The captain nodded and lifted his speaking horn, but the voice responded before he could even speak. “We know of no criminal that would come to disturb us, Dr. Benjamin Franklin,” the voice responded. “Though we are flattered that a man with your reputation would visit us, we must respectfully ask that you turn about and depart our world.”

  Surprised, Franklin started to reply but was cut off by a gesture from Morrow, who spoke in his stead. “To whomever I have the pleasure of addressing, I am Captain Sir William Morrow of His Britannic Majesty’s Ship Daedalus. I have come with the full cooperation of Dr. Franklin and his Ganymedean brethren on a mission that concerns us all—including the Xan, if I may be so bold. Several humans and Venusians have been murdered, and several planetary alchemical essences may have been stolen. We feel compelled to apprise you of the situation, and to perhaps seek your aid in resolving it.”

  There was naught but silence from the Xan at this. Indeed, as the silence dragged on, the officers and guests on board began exchanging worried looks, whispering among themselves. The Xan vessel itself did not seem to move at all, but nonetheless easily kept pace with Daedalus, which continued to sail at a respectable seven knots toward the Xan port. At least, Weatherby thought, they were still alive and intact. Morrow eventually had the lieutenants inspect the men—and assuage any of their fears—while consulting with Franklin and Finch regarding the Xan vessel. Anne joined them, and was busy making notes and sketches in a notebook as they all talked.

  Weatherby was below decks, quietly upbraiding one of the men for a misplaced powder charge, when the Xan response came, more than an hour after they had last heard any word. “Vessel of Earth called Daedalus,” said the voice, which seemed as clear on the gun deck as it was above. “We will allow you to make port. Please follow our conveyance to our city and come alongside the southernmost dock. You will receive further instructions there. Do not deviate from your course and speed.”

  Immediately, smiles and sighs broke out from amongst the men on the gun deck, and Weatherby realized just how much tension had built up amongst the crew. He himself smiled back, giving a few of the senior men a nod. “Seems as though they know proper Englishmen when they see them,” Weatherby said to Smythe, who nodded and saluted. The lieutenant then raised his voice a bit more. “Remain at your stations, men, but do not act rashly or aggressively. Let us not unduly frighten our genial hosts!”

  A light chorus of laughter followed Weatherby up the stairs toward the main deck, and his confidence grew with his men’s approval. Yet his good mood evaporated somewhat when he saw the port that the voice had spoken of. Quickly, he pulled out his glass and ran forward, resting his arm along the railing as he peered off toward the Xan settlement.

  The Daedalus had been told to come alongside the southernmost dock—because there was another vessel at the northern one. An Earth vessel. They were too far off to make her name, but she appeared to be a three-masted ship with elegant lines a
nd numerous guns—and a flutter of red off a banner at her stern.

  Weatherby snapped his glass shut and ran for the quarterdeck, where he found Plumb and Morrow peering through there glasses as well. Morrow, however, saw him coming. “Report, Mr. Weatherby.”

  The young man caught his breath. “It’s the Chance,” Weatherby said, “I’d swear it.”

  Morrow nodded, snapping his own glass shut. “Very well, then. Commence docking procedures. Ensure the men remain at quarters, but for God’s sake, ensure they do not take any rash measures now!”

  So it was that, a half hour later, HMS Daedalus sat moored to a dock on the moon Callisto, with a known pirate vessel less than a mile away—the very same ship they had been searching for since Mercury. It was nothing short of galling.

  “Naturally, we have found our quarry in the one place we cannot easily take them,” Morrow groused from the quarterdeck, where the ship’s officers and guests had convened for no particular reason other than to curse their misfortune.

  Franklin nodded in agreement, but looked concerned regardless. “I cannot urge you strongly enough not to engage this enemy here,” he said. “We know not how the Xan will take it, and they certainly may have the scientific and alchemical means to eradicate us should we try.”

  “Yes, yes, I know, Doctor,” Morrow said. “Yet inaction does not sit well with me here.” He turned to his first lieutenant. “Mr. Plumb, you are in command. By no means will you move this ship or open fire unless you are fired upon first. And even then, you must resist provocation until such time as you feel the ship is truly imperiled. Should the Xan or any of their agents wish to board, they may do so, and you will treat them as guests. Am I understood?”

  Plumb looked unimpressed, but responded nonetheless. “Aye, sir.”

  Morrow turned to Weatherby and Finch. “Finch, you’re with me. Weatherby, please assist the ambassador and Miss Baker to the gangplank. We shall disembark and proceed to the end of the dock, where we will wait for whatever the Xan opt to do next.”