The Daedalus Incident Revised

by Michael Martinez

  There was no real need to assist them, of course; all parties in question were above decks and eagerly awaiting something to do. The prospect of laying eyes on the mysterious Xan—on the very shores of Callisto!—was too tempting. For a moment, Weatherby worried that he would be omitted from the gathering, but Morrow gathered him in with a gesture as he walked down the gangplank, and Weatherby could not stifle a smile. It seemed his gambit in Philadelphia had helped overcome his earlier indiscretions.

  “If it’s to be diplomacy,” Morrow said quietly to Franklin as they strode toward the end of the pier, “I dare say I shall lean upon you heavily, Ambassador. I doubt I can rely on Mr. Weatherby’s gunpoint negotiations here.”

  Franklin gave the captain a small smile. “I shall do all I can, of course. But I fear that if Cagliostro is already here, and our story heard second, we are at a disadvantage. I can vouch for his ability to be most charming.”

  The group proceeded to the very end of the dock—a stone dock, but one without seam or masonry—and stopped before a sandy beach of the purest white. There were none of the typical port facilities anyone could see. Instead, there was a pathway made of some kind of hard surface leading from the dock toward the lush tropical forest behind the beach and, finally, to a pair of massive doors in what appeared to be a city wall, some two hundred feet along. The wall itself blended in so perfectly with the foliage that Weatherby could not be sure how far it extended. Beyond that, a handful of spires and domes protruded from the verdant canopy. These looked well maintained, and bore some small resemblance to pictures Weatherby had seen of both India and Japan, while mimicking neither.

  Once the group reached the end of the dock, the doors opened, and a pair of human men walked through them, starting to make their way toward the Chance. They were unaccompanied, and did not once look back at whatever wonders the Xan city may have held for them. Both were dressed quite finely, one as garish as the other was understated.

  Recognition dawned upon Weatherby almost immediately. “Captain, I saw that man on the beach on Venus. I dare say it is LeMaire!” he whispered.

  “More than that,” Franklin added. “Unless my eyes deceive me, the other is Cagliostro.”

  Weatherby’s hand moved toward his sword as the better-dressed man stopped, looked at their party, and began to walk toward them. Morrow motioned for the group to stay and wait. “Do not make a show of force,” the captain ordered. “I have no doubt we are being observed, by whatever means.”

  The young lieutenant took a hard look at the gentleman as he approached. He was of middle age, dressed in fine clothing and a perfectly powdered wig. He had heavy eyebrows and a pronounced nose, and while he walked with alacrity, he appeared quite well fed. His full lips bore a smile that hinted at both seeming friendliness and a certain foreknowledge.

  Finally, the man stopped about ten feet away and bowed deeply to them. “How refreshing to find some of my fellow men on Callisto,” he said by way of greeting, speaking perfect English with a slight Italian accent. “I would not have expected it, given the Xan’s reputation for isolation.”

  Franklin was the first to speak. “I think we may dispense with the pleasantries, Cagliostro. Surely you remember me, do you not?”

  The man squinted at Franklin a moment before breaking into a wide smile. “Of course! The esteemed Dr. Benjamin Franklin! I trust you are well? How is your gout?”

  Franklin practically sputtered out his reply, his face turning red. “You fool! We know what you have been doing! What is it that you have planned?”

  Cagliostro turned toward the city gate, an eyebrow raised. “I have no idea what you mean. I have been simply visiting the Xan as part of a Grand Tour of the Known Worlds. My reputation as an alchemist must have preceded me, for I found them to be most gracious.”

  At this, Morrow spoke, his words hard as flint. “Sir, your ship was spotted at Elizabeth Mercuris, and on Venus, where terrible crimes have been committed. You are also implicated in crimes upon Ganymede as well. I command you to surrender to us to answer for these.”

  The alchemist was undaunted, and indeed made a good showing of surprise in his response. “Surely there has been some grievous error, my good sir. As I have said, I am merely taking my tour, nothing more. The good creatures here may tell you that I’ve done nothing amiss on Callisto whatsoever. And if you seek to implicate me in some manner of criminality, I must ask what proof you have.”

  Anne, who had been somewhat obscured behind both Franklin and Morrow, shouldered her way in between them. “I have seen you with my own eyes!” she said, her face a mask of fury. “You murdered Roger McDonnell and took his Mercurium. I even let you into his house!”

  If Cagliostro was taken aback at the sight of the girl, he refused to show it. “Really, now, miss. I must protest. Yes, I did indeed visit the esteemed Dr. McDonnell, and I vaguely recall you might have answered the door.” He paused and smiled. “In fact, I do remember you being in something of a state at the time, were you not?”

  Anne’s face turned a bright red, and she looked upon the verge of tears. “I heard the struggle. I heard him die! Murderer!”

  “Murder?” Cagliostro said, sounding shocked, though Weatherby swore his face did not show it well enough. “Don’t be silly, girl! We argued, and I left, and that is the end of it!”

  “And what of Venus, sir?” Morrow demanded, stepping in front of the distraught woman. “That ship there was seen escaping the site of a massacre of an entire tribe of Venusians!”

  Cagliostro turned to regard the Chance, and Weatherby could see several men from that ship approaching across the beach, looking ill-intentioned and well armed. “I admit, my choice of conveyance for my travels is perhaps not the best, but if that vessel is implicated in any such incident, it was not of my doing.”

  Weatherby had quite enough. “You, sir, are a liar, thief and murderer!” he stated firmly. “Come with us peaceably, or we shall take you by force!”

  Cagliostro actually smiled as Morrow placed a warning hand on Weatherby’s shoulder. “Truly, young man, force would be unwise. The Xan do not take conflict lightly,” the alchemist said, turning once again to see his shipmates now well at hand. “Indeed, should you try to apprehend me, and my friends here intervene, well . . . I dare say the Xan would likely do away with us both quite thoroughly.

  “And besides,” the alchemist continued, turning toward Morrow and Franklin, “will you take the word of a whore against mine own?” Cagliostro fixed Anne with a hard stare. “I’m sure you do not wish me to explain the exact state in which I found you that evening, do you? Or the circumstances from which Roger McDonnell rescued you?”

  Weatherby nearly drew his sword at this, but Finch and Morrow grabbed his arms in time. “Easy, Tom,” Finch whispered. “Not here.”

  Anne, however, was not so restrained. She hastened up behind Morrow and all too quickly slid his sword from its scabbard. In an instant, its point was at Cagliostro’s throat. “You will come with us,” she cried, her tear-streaked face warped into a snarl.

  The beach quickly echoed with the sound of a dozen pistols and muskets being cocked, and not just from Cagliostro’s band of unwashed brigands. Weatherby could hear the weapons aboard Daedalus as well.

  “Tuez-les?” one of the pirates muttered, his pistol aimed squarely at Anne’s chest.

  “Attendez un instant,” Cagliostro said softly before turning his full attention to Anne. “Go ahead, child. Strike me down. And you and those with you will fall, either to the shots of my comrades or the arcane power of the Xan. I’m not quite sure which would be worse.”

  Weatherby’s attention shifted from Anne’s trembling sword-arm to the pirates. A few of latter seemed quite ready to act and be done with it, all-powerful aliens notwithstanding. One in particular seemed particularly eager and twitchy, and Weatherby could not help but note that his pistol was pointed right at Anne.

  Yet despite her visible distress, Anne’s voice remained surprisingly cal
m—a calm Weatherby recognized from seeing seasoned officers in battle. “What’s worse, signore, is allowing you to live,” she said firmly. Weatherby shrugged off Finch’s and Morrow’s hands, which had loosened already, and walked forward to stand next to Anne . . .

  . . . just as she raised her arm back to strike.

  Weatherby saw the pirate’s hand tense. He knew.

  The shot rang out just as Anne’s arm began to swing forward, and Weatherby shoved her aside for all he was worth. The blade fell into the pure white sands of the Callistan beach.

  And Weatherby fell beside it a moment later, excruciating pain piercing his chest.

  “Weatherby!” Finch shouted.

  Weatherby looked up to the crystal blue skies, a vibrant hue such as he had never seen. He desperately wished he could breathe properly.

  And then with an odd thunderclap, everything went dark and cold.

  July 27, 2132

  Col. Maria Diaz finished reading Shaila’s report on her activities and tossed the datapad on the table, regarding the younger woman with a tired yet piercing stare. Shaila stood tall, comfortably at ease, sure in the knowledge that she had pieced the puzzle together, squarely placing the blame at Harry Yu’s feet.

  “All right, Lieutenant,” Diaz said. “Tell me why I shouldn’t bust your ass back to Earth.”

  “Ma’am?”

  The colonel slowly got up from her chair and went around her desk to stand in front of Shaila. Despite being a few inches shorter, Diaz loomed very, very large. “You were ordered back to active duty and off the investigation, were you not?”

  The protest immediately pushed its way front-and-center in Shaila’s brain. The EM device was not the cave, and although she suspected they were related, she had no proof—at least, not until Stephane detected the Cherenkov radiation in the mining tunnels.

  Diaz, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood to split hairs over her orders, and technically, Shaila was still concealing the book from her as well. “I was, yes, ma’am,” Shaila said.

  “And then,” Diaz continued, “you took a civilian out to a site where you suspected unknown technology was buried. You endangered him and you managed to fry a rover—and believe me, we could use that rover right about now.

  “And then, you responded to the only fatal mining accident in Martian history by arresting the executive in charge?” Diaz asked.

  “I did,” Shaila said, trying to project more resolve than she felt. “The nature of the device in question, combined with his suit-beacon record in locations where devices were known or theorized to be, led me to believe that he had knowledge that these devices were placed there, and perhaps did it himself. Given the results we saw at Site Six, it was either gross negligence or willful endangerment. Ma’am.”

  “You do realize the complete and utter shitstorm you’ve unleashed, do you not?” Diaz asked.

  At the time, of course, it really hadn’t occurred to Shaila to consider the potential fallout for her, her boss and JSC’s relations with a company that represented a large chunk of the command’s budget. But she was getting the message loud and clear now. “I do, ma’am.”

  “And your theory is that this ring of linear EM fields, generated by ten of these devices, is some how channeling potentially destructive energy around an area of Mars, right in our area of operations,” Diaz said. “And you have no idea why.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Shaila said. “I’m willing to bet Harry knows.”

  “BET?” Diaz shouted, causing Shaila to jump slightly in her at-ease stance. “You’re willing to bet? Jesus Christ, Jain! I’ve got a man dead, earthquakes and tunnel collapses and strange EM fields all over my ops area, and you’re betting? What the hell?”

  It seemed a bad time to say much of anything so Shaila continued to stare straight ahead.

  Diaz gathered herself again before continuing. “Where’s Harry now?”

  “Confined to quarters, ma’am, without computer or comm access,” Shaila said.

  Diaz punched a button on her desk. “Ops, this is Diaz. Harry Yu is no longer confined to quarters, with my apologies. Out.”

  Shaila’s heart sank. She stared straight ahead, avoiding the return of Diaz’ gaze.

  “You’re lucky we’re undermanned and dealing with a mine collapse, otherwise you’d be headed back to Earth, with or without a rocket under you,” Diaz said. “As it stands, you’re relieved of duty for the rest of the day. I don’t care what you do, just stay out of my hair while I deal with this crap. I’ll be lucky to save the base, let alone your sorry ass.”

  Shaila nodded, trying not to lose it entirely. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll have Finelli run the rescue ops and pull Washington in to cover him.”

  “Fine,” Diaz said, looking up at Shaila intently. “You’re smarter than this. You should’ve come to me first, but you don’t trust anybody. Maybe that’s understandable, with Atlantis and all, but just because I reprimand you and take you off the investigation doesn’t mean I’m automatically your enemy. In fact, I’m probably the only friend you got left here, except for maybe Steve. But now, even if I think you might be onto something, I can’t follow up on it because you’re a liability.”

  “You’re right, ma’am,” Shaila said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Damn right you are. Dismissed.”

  Shaila quietly walked out of Diaz’ office. The officers in the command center were pretty busy, what with the fallout from the mine collapse and preparations for the Giffords’ arrival in a few hours. She should’ve been there with them, leading them.

  She quickly turned on her heel and made for the stairs.

  Not knowing quite what else to do, or where to go, she made her way through the Hub toward her day room. Maybe staring at the ceiling would help. But the whoosh-swish of the airlocks distracted her—it was the wrong time of day for so many people coming in, and despite knowing that it wasn’t an ordinary day, she turned to look out of habit.

  Jack Heath was coming in for the last time.

  Six pressure-suited miners bore his body into the Hub in two neat rows of three, an honor guard for the fallen. Someone from JSC should’ve been there, but it seemed everyone was managing one crisis or another. Shaila walked over to where the miners had gently placed Heath’s body, just as Ed Kaczynski pulled his helmet off.

  “I’m sorry, Ed,” she said simply.

  She had never seen him look so sober, in every sense. “Thanks, Lieutenant. Looks like you were right about those safety regs after all.”

  She shrugged. “Glad someone thinks so, for all the good it did.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Some fucked up shit going on here, Jain. I—” Kaczynski stopped and looked past Shaila’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “You self-righteous son-of-a-bitch!”

  Before she could react, Kaczynski leapt past her and flew across the Hub as fast as Martian gravity could carry him. His target was Harry Yu, who had just entered from the Billiton corridor.

  “You sent us in there!” Kaczynski shouted. “You risked our lives, you little prick!”

  Shaila immediately jumped off after Kaczynski, even as Harry, wide-eyed, put his hands out in front of him. “How the hell was I to know? I swear to God, there was no reason to—”

  Kaczynski’s fist finished Harry’s sentence for him.

  “Ed, no!” Shaila grabbed the back of the old digger’s pressure suit and yanked hard, pulling him away from Harry and sending him flying two meters across the room, even as the rest of Heath’s honor guard ran toward the fracas.

  Shaila turned toward the miners, putting herself between them and Harry. “He’s not worth it,” she said. “Don’t do this.”

  She felt a hand on her shoulder shoving her out of the way. “I don’t need you to protect me, Jain,” Harry snarled, wiping a trickle of blood from his face and sneering at her. “It’s your goddamn fault this happened!”

  Shaila wheeled on him. “Don’t you dare,” she said, fists clenched.

  “Me? Don’
t you dare to try to weasel out of this,” he parried before turning to the miners. “You want to know what’s going on? Me, too. But JSC didn’t want to play ball with us. So now Mars is falling apart, Jack’s dead, and they’re still not telling us what we need to know to do our jobs safely! Instead, they put this fuck-up in charge!” He jabbed his finger right at Shaila.

  Shaila’s hands weren’t as big as Kaczynski’s paws, but her training more than made up for it. The right cross she landed on Harry’s jaw sent him sprawling.

  She turned to face the miners again, her mind reeling, her fists clenched. “Come on, then!” she called out. “Anyone else care to comment?”

  The voice from behind her made her jump. “Shay. No.”

  Her fist cocked, she spun around again to find Stephane standing there, his pressure suit still on. He had been among the honor guard. And she had very nearly taken his head off.

  “Come on,” he said gently, placing his hand on her arm. “We need to leave. Now. Yuna will handle this.”

  Shaila could see Yuna already talking quietly but firmly with Kaczynski. If there was anyone one base whom everyone could agree to listen to, it was Yuna Hiyashi. She still looked extremely upset—perhaps more so than she did in the cave—but it already seemed that Kaczynski was backing down somewhat.

  His pressure suit still on, Stephane half-pulled, half-lifted Shaila toward the JSC laboratory wing, leaving a few stares in their wake. She saw Adams racing down the stairs from the command center, likely dispatched to figure out what was going on. Someone would tell him that she had flattened Harry, she knew. And really, that would be that. End of career. Game over.

  Stephane keyed the entry to the corridor and quickly pulled Shaila into the nearest available room, the containment lab. “All right,” he said, looking out the door’s tiny window into the hallway. “I do not think they are coming to arrest you.”

  He flashed a saddened smile at her, which she found herself actually mirroring—despite the anger that had her hands shaking uncontrollably. “Not yet. Thanks for that.”