The Eridani Convergence (Carson & Roberts Archeological Adventures in T-Space Book 3)

by Alastair Mayer

  Carson studied the image. “It certainly looks like industrial or better level technology, not terrestrial. The symbols and general style are nothing like the disintegrator we found back on Chara III, so it probably wasn’t something the Spacefarers left.”

  “The style is similar to what we’ve seen of the Belize wreckage. If there are markings that match, it would have to be Kesh, wouldn’t it?” Brown said. “The Spacefarers were ten-thousand years earlier.”

  “Right. There’s a chance that the Spacefarer written language was different from what we found in the Chara pyramid. They might have designed that to be more pictographic, to be easier for other species to learn once they got in, given that those pyramids seemed to be intended as teaching tools.” Carson had another thought, though. “That’s even assuming the Belize wreckage is Kesh.”

  “Let’s stick with the simplest hypotheses for now,” Ducayne interrupted, “although in my business that’s hardly ever the case. But it fits better with the Kesh, or perhaps one of the Kesh civil war factions, than anyone else, including your yet unidentified Spacefarers.”

  Carson bristled a little at that. This whole thing had started because he’d been trying to show some spacefaring connection between several early civilizations on different planets. Outside of a few people in Homeworld Security and perhaps the Velkaryans, everyone believed the last spacefaring species to have been the Terraformers, back at the time of the dinosaur extinction on Earth. On the other hand, Ducayne was correct; though they now had sufficient evidence that there were Spacefarers ten-thousand years before the Kesh, they had yet to find anything to indicate who or what they were, or exactly why they built their pyramidal “teaching museums”.

  “Fair enough. Supposing it is Kesh, and contemporary with the Belize wreck, I don’t suppose you have any idea what the damn thing is?”

  “No. But I have reason to believe the Velkaryans have heard of it, and are interested. That’s another reason for getting to it first. Which brings me to the horrible thing that Malcolm guessed at. I want you to go out to 82 Eridani to see what else is there, and to help bring the artifact back if my agent ran into problems.”

  Brown set his coffee cup down. “But I’m not a field agent.”

  “You did fine on Earth. But I meant Carson, not you. He needs to get off-planet for a while, both for his own safety and to throw the Velkaryans off. You’re certainly free to go along if you think it worthwhile.”

  “Uh, no, no. I’m sure Hannibal can handle it.”

  Carson grinned, the byplay had amused him. But he had questions. “Things are already in motion. By the time I get there, there’s a good chance that Jackie or whomever has already picked up the package and is on her way back.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Or is there actually more to this? Could Jackie be headed into trouble?”

  Ducayne picked up his coffee cup in both hands, then set it down again. “Fair enough. Frankly I’m not certain. If all goes well, the package will be on its way back when you get there and Jackie or one of my other couriers won’t have had any trouble, in which case I’d still like you to see if there’s anything else of interest in that system.”

  “And if it doesn’t go well?”

  “Then I’d want you on the spot as quickly as possible to help turn the situation around. Do what you seem to do best at, retrieve the artifacts and foil the Velkaryans.”

  “You make me sound like some kind of action hero. It may have worked out that way on Chara, but it was different on Zeta Reticuli. Roberts saved my ass there. And I’m still mending from my little autocab ride.”

  “I think you and the Kesh both had something to do with what happened at Reticuli, but the fact remains that you’re the best person I have available for the job. You’ll need a couple of days to prep, and I’ll need a bit of time to work out the best way to get you to 82 Eridani, too. You can ride in a traumapod for some of the trip, we have some accelerated healing protocols. Will you be wanting to bring your timoan partner?”

  “Marten’s teaching, as far as I know. It’s mid-semester back on Taprobane. It’d be nice to have him along, but I don’t think so.”

  “Very well. That simplifies things.” Ducayne stood up, and the others did likewise. “Go get things taken care of,” he said to Carson. “Get back with me tomorrow.”

  “What about me?” Brown asked.

  “Help Carson get ready if he needs it—” Carson signaled in the negative “—otherwise see what you can make of the Belize and Tanith artifacts. I’ll send you what I have on the latter.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Next day

  “I’ve got a ship lined up for you,” Ducayne told Carson. “It’s a charter out of Sawyer Spaceport. Departs tomorrow, it’ll take two weeks to get there.”

  “Two weeks?” Carson sighed. “Unavoidable, of course. I just wish there was a faster way to travel.”

  Ducayne eyed him speculatively. “Really?”

  “Well, sure. Nothing against space travel but as Jackie always says, ‘it’s supposed to be boring.’ I just wish it were faster.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, friend, you might get it.”

  Carson examined Ducayne’s expression. He was serious. Homeworld Security did have a few tricks up its sleeves, but there was usually a cost. “All right, I’ll bite. What do you have?”

  “Something like an oversized message torpedo, big enough to hold a traumapod. We load you up, the pod keeps you in medical stasis for duration—which minimizes life support requirements and keeps you from going crazy in the confined space, like a hibernation pod on an emigration ship, and it finishes your healing process—and the torpedo makes the trip in eight days instead of fourteen. To you it will seem like no time at all.”

  “You’re joki . . . No, you don’t joke. How does this torpedo get off planet, and better yet, how does it land?”

  “The first part’s easy, we just lift it to space on a regular ship, same as with regular message torpedoes. It makes its way to the destination planet and the pod awakens you before entry so you’re ready to make a rapid egress. Then it enters like an old time ballistic reentry craft and ejects you at a safe parachute altitude. There’s a few milligrams of anti-matter left as a self-destruct charge; we don’t want this technology generally known. If anyone happens to be watching, it looks like a large meteorite impact.”

  “And it blows up while I’m nearby dangling from a parachute? I’m not even going to ask what could go wrong, I can already think of a list as long as my arm.” Carson thought for a moment. He could see the uses for this in Ducayne’s line of business, something akin to the way some agencies on Earth would deploy divers out of submarine torpedo tubes to make covert entry into another country.

  “I take it you’ve used this kind of system before?” Carson added.

  Ducayne grinned and nodded, although what he said aloud was “I can neither confirm nor deny, et cetera, et cetera.”

  Carson still wasn’t convinced, and Ducayne obviously read the doubt on his face.

  “Look, Carson, I need you on Tanith. Sooner would be better than later but you’re a good man and I wouldn’t even have suggested it if the odds weren’t in your favor. I’d rather you get there late than never.”

  “Parachute landing, you say. But I’ll be completely healed by then, in the pod?”

  Ducayne nodded. “Yes.”

  “I guess I won’t be bringing much in the way of gear with me. Can this thing put me somewhere on the planet with reasonable precision? Like, within walking distance of civilization?”

  “Heck yes. ICBM precision. The main body will go another hundred kilometers or so before detonating, no worry on that score. Worst case you should be able to contact Roberts on your omni, and we’ll give you a backup radio, and she can pick you up.”

  Carson considered the prospect. What could possibly go wrong? Well, there was mis-jump, meteoroid impact, bad reentry, life-support failure . . . , but those were things that could, potentia
lly, happen on any ship. Travelling this way? He supposed the thing could try to kidnap him like that damned autocab, but if the Velkaryans could hijack Homeworld Security gear he had bigger things to worry about. The pod could get stuck, the parachute could fail, he could make a bad landing, or he could land in the middle of a swamp or ocean . . . . It was all fun and games until somebody drowns or gets burnt to a crisp on entry.

  “It sounds like a damn-fool way to travel,” Carson finally said “especially for an archeologist, but I’ve done my share of damn-fool things in my time. Sure, let’s go for it.”

  “Great. In that case, you leave tonight.”

  CHAPTER 23: HARP CITY

  Roberts

  Harp City Spaceport, next day

  ROBERTS CONTACTED the port cargo office as soon as she’d cleared the runway and rolled to the parking area.

  “Good morning. I have four crates of Mount Sharon Premium Roast coffee from Tau Ceti as consignment cargo, if you want to send an inspector aboard before offloading,” Roberts said over the radio. The cargo office also did duty as the customs office, the immigration office, and the quarantine office. Customs and quarantine tended to get upset if you started offloading before getting their approval.

  “Tau Cetan coffee? Did you say roasted?”

  “Affirmative. Mount Sharon Premium Roast, from the Tefera farm.”

  There was a pause, probably while the officer checked the manifest she had transmitted earlier.

  “Got it, Sophie. Nope, you’re good to unload. We’ll send someone out with a pallet and a freight lifter.”

  “Much appreciated, thank you.”

  A short while later, with the cargo unloaded and the usual paperwork dealt with, Roberts posted the data to the local broker net. To her surprise, she got a bite immediately, and at a fair price. Someone must have software watching for just such an opportunity. That worked for her. She completed the transaction and then made her way in person to the outgoing cargo office, pleased to have a few extra credits in her local account.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  “‘Smith?’ No, we have no package from a Smith. Nothing much at all outgoing anywhere, as a matter of fact. The usual data updates, but nothing for Tau Ceti or Alpha Centauri. We had a ship here a few weeks back, maybe it went with them, or via Earth on the regular run. Although, I don’t recall anything from anyone named Smith.

  Roberts was in the cargo office at the Harp City spaceport, wondering what had happened to the package she was supposed to pick up. “Well, I suppose Smith is an easy name to forget. But what ship? If it was the Cerulean Cloud, I ran into their skipper on Skead, an old friend of mine. He didn’t say anything about that.”

  “Now I’m not saying anything about your friend as such, but you freight runners do tend to keep your business secrets. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” The cargo master seemed strangely eager to please without actually being helpful.

  As if sensing that thought, he added: “Could it have gone via Earth? Last Solar run was two weeks ago.”

  She didn’t think that likely, but wasn’t going to argue the point yet. “I suppose that’s possible. Okay, never mind Smith. Any cargo going back in that direction? Alpha Centauri? Or Sol? I’d hate to have made this trip for nothing.”

  “You can still bill whoever requisitioned you, right? Who did you say it was?”

  “I didn’t.” Business secrets indeed, thought Roberts. “Anyway, I’m not leaving right away, I’ll be here for a few days. Maybe something will turn up.”

  “Your choice. Cargo for Sol is pretty much reserved for the Speedwell or the Mayflower.”

  Jackie guessed from the names that these were regular immigration ships. If one had left two weeks ago, the other would be due in within the next few days.

  “By the way,” he continued, “you do know about the docking fee, right? I don’t mean the landing fee, more like a parking fee.”

  “What? For a few square meters of ground? I’m not using any spaceport facilities.” Not that there was much to use. “You’re not exactly cramped for space here.”

  “Now, don’t bite my head off, I don’t make the rules. Some folks on the spaceport board thought it would be a good way to raise money, pay to improve the facilities. Not my idea.”

  Not that the facilities couldn’t stand some improvement. “Yeah, I get it.” Roberts fought to hold in her temper. Pissing off the port cargo master was a good way to guarantee she wouldn’t get any cargo at all, although if she could find this mysterious Smith and whatever he had to ship to Ducayne, that wouldn’t be a problem. Damn you, Ducayne.

  “Okay, thanks for your time. I guess I’ll head into town for a bit. What is there to see?”

  “Oh, now, I’m no expert on that. It’s not like we have a tourist board or a traveller’s aid society. But there’s an information kiosk in the main spaceport building lobby, you could check there.”

  It was all Jackie could do not to roll her eyes. Instead she smiled politely and said “Thank you, I’ll do that.”

  As she turned to leave the cargo master’s office, he said “No problem. Glad to be of service.”

  She wondered if he had any grasp of the level of irony in that statement.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  As she walked back to the Sophie, Jackie pondered her next move. She had to make contact with “Smith”, somehow, or put herself in a position where he could contact her. He would know there was a new ship in port; it wasn’t as if this place saw a lot of traffic. There were a handful of ships parked on the ramp across the field, longer term parking than where she’d put the Sophie. Ships belonging to locals, no doubt. She hadn’t paid much attention to them on the way in. They were part of the background; every spaceport had a few. But something looked familiar about one of those ships.

  Half of them were S-class ships, perhaps the most common class and inexpensive enough that some owners could afford to let them sit idle—not that she herself could. Two were Sapphires, although Jackie’s practiced eye could pick out a few differences from her own Sophie. But that larger one, the Y-class, wasn’t decked out the way she would expect a cargo ship to be. Nor would a cargo ship be likely to be in long term storage unless it needed maintenance or repair work; it didn’t make money if it wasn’t flying cargo. But this one looked like it was fitted more as an upscale charter, or even a personal yacht. It had more than the usual number of windows, and personnel hatches instead of cargo doors. Why did it look so familiar? And then she remembered, and froze. It was the Carcharodon, the Velkaryan ship they’d had a run-in with back at Zeta Reticuli. What was it doing here?

  She mulled that over as she got over her surprise and continued back to her ship. Yes, 82 Eridani was on a path back from there if they’d needed to refuel, but that was weeks ago, why was it still here? Had it been more seriously damaged than she thought? It had taken a hit from an alien energy beam, but it had flown again after that, pursuing the Sophie until the Kesh intervened. What had the Kesh done? Had the Carcharodon been here ever since? Or somewhere else? Maybe it was on its way back . . . but then why the long-term parking?

  Suddenly Jackie was very glad that her Sophie looked like any other Sapphire model, with its functional hull colors and utilitarian styling. Then she remembered that she’d broadcast her identity to all and sundry when she’d requested landing clearance, and her gut tightened. Damn!

  She considered her options. Would they hold a grudge? Yeah, Velkaryans. Sure they would. She didn’t have anything they wanted right now, but they wouldn’t know that, and might want some level of revenge for Zeta Reticuli. Did this tie into Ducayne’s interest in something here? Silly question, of course it must.

  Jackie tapped a sequence into her omni, checking that the Sophie’s security systems were still operative and that nothing unusual had happened while she was at the cargo office. She felt a lot more paranoid now than ten minutes ago. All clear. With a sigh of relief, she keyed another sequence and the hatch slid open. She entered th
e control cabin and slumped into her command chair. Now what?

  If the Carcharodon crew were staying in town rather than at the spaceport, they might not yet know she was here. They had no reason to expect her. She had some time. She turned and looked around the Sophie’s cabin. She had spent all but a few days of the last month here. Screw this, she decided. She was going into town for some real food. The Carcharodon crew didn’t know what she looked like, she could hit the main hotel or whatever passed for it without attracting unusual attention. And maybe Smith was staying there too. She just had to figure out how to attract his attention.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Roberts considered her options. She had local credit from her commission on the cargo, plus the courier fees earned from the net data updates and email from Tau Ceti. The increased landing fees had taken a bigger chunk than usual out of that, but she had some. She could afford to eat at the hotel a few times, but perhaps not to stay there. She had off-world credit secured by her blockchain keys, but many places discounted that because of the processing delays.

  The problem was to figure out a way to get her contact’s attention. All she knew was a name, Smith, which wouldn’t be his real name but might at least be what he was going by locally. He wouldn’t know her from Eve, but at least being a recently-arrived off-worlder should attract his attention, assuming he was expecting a contact. He had to be, the natural reaction to the messages he’d sent Ducayne would be to send someone back to follow up.

  Ducayne, that was it. What was the name he’d used on that message, Quiche Desjardins? Two could play that game. She went back to her cabin, sat cross-legged on her bunk, and grabbed a computer pad. Time to see just what the ship’s fabber was capable of in the clothing department. But first she needed an image of a playing card. It had to be big, it had to be flashy, and it had to be the Queen of Diamonds.