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

by Alastair Mayer

  “I don’t recall anything special being found recently on Earth. So, I guess not. What?”

  “The remains of a Kesh spaceship.”

  Roberts jerked upright from her slouch against the counter. “What? Where? A pyramid ship? When?”

  “No. From the debris, probably a small FTL ship, maybe Sophie’s size. It’s all broken up, so impossible to tell for sure. It seems it crashed off the Yucatan coast two thousand years ago. Pieces were found by sport divers after a recent hurricane.”

  “And you think it was Kesh? Why? And how do you know two thousand years? Isn’t that a long time in seawater for anything to remain?”

  “Isotope dating, and the ancient Greek Antikythera mechanism was underwater just as long. Some of the pieces recovered in Belize have writing on them. It looks like Kesh language.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that. Where did you see Kesh language? I didn’t see any signs or the like on the Kesh ship.”

  “Ketzshanass’s communicator panel when we were talking on that moon. You stayed here on the Sophie. I caught a look at his panel. Their language looks a bit like cuneiform. Malcolm was trying to translate it when I left.”

  “You left that behind to come here? Hannibal, I’m touched.”

  Carson grinned. “Sumerian was never my strong suit, and Ducayne can be persuasive.” He paused at Jackie’s scowl, then his smile widened. “But yes, I wanted to see what you were getting yourself into. Besides, I owe you one.”

  “Well, not that I don’t appreciate it,” she said, “but I’m not sure you didn’t waste the trip. It should just be a matter of Ducayne’s agent here picking up the artifact and me leaving with it.”

  “You mentioned he doesn’t have it yet.”

  “There was a complication.”

  “There usually is.” Carson wondered what it had been, and looked expectantly at her.

  “Somebody didn’t want him to connect with his contact,” she said. “I’m supposed to hear back from him within the next—” she checked the time “—twenty-five or so hours. Thursday midnight.”

  “So it’s Wednesday night now?”

  “Yes, just after twenty-one hundred. Short day; the midnight hour here is only ten min—” Jackie stopped short and looked like she had suddenly remembered something. “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “The Velkaryans are here. The Carcharodon, and probably Vaughan. They may have stopped here on the way back from Zeta Reticuli.”

  “And they’re still here?”

  “Their ship is parked. Burnside said someone named Vaughan has been getting involved in local politics.”

  “Damn. A good reason for me to lay low. I had a run in with them—we think it was them—before I left. Vaughan would recognize me. Does he know you’re here?”

  “He doesn’t know me. He wouldn’t have gotten a good look at me at Zeta Reticuli. I don’t know if he knows the Sophie. Plenty of other S-classes on the field, but my landing is public record.”

  “He didn’t hear the name from me.” Carson had tried to avoid giving him any information at all. “I wonder what the Kesh did to him. Do you think I should ask him?” he grinned as he said that.

  “Sure! His ship is across the field. I can show you. Just walk up and knock on the hatch.”

  “Ah, maybe tomorrow. Wouldn’t be polite to interrupt him in the middle of the night.”

  “There is that.” Roberts grew serious. “Actually, I don’t think he’s staying aboard ship. Burnside said he was in town.”

  “Anyway, it’s late for me,” she continued. “I don’t know what time your body clock is set to, but I’m tired. I’m going to hit my bunk. You know the ship, make yourself at home. The aft cabin is available, by the way, since it’s not filled with your gear this time.”

  “Ah, thank you. I’m not really sure what time I think it is. I just came out of a medical coma. I think I’ll read up on this place until the coffee wears off. See you in the morning.”

  “Roger that.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Ping-ping. Ping-ping. Roberts came awake, glancing at the time display on the panel beside her bunk. Oh-three-thirty? Ping-ping! Dammit. She slapped the comm button. “Yes?”

  “Sophie? It’s Burnside. On my way there. That okay?”

  “Do you have a problem with normal business hours?”

  “For me, these are normal business hours.”

  She sighed. That was probably true. “All right, yes. Will you need patching again? What’s your ETA?”

  “Not this time. Ten minutes.”

  “Roger. See you then.” She clicked off the comm, lay back on her bunk for a few moments and then said loudly, “Sophie, lights and coffee.” The cabin lights came on, and Roberts dragged herself out of bed, pulled on a set of ship’s coveralls—loose ones this time—and made her way back to the galley to get her coffee.

  She was halfway through the first cup before she was awake enough to fully assess the situation. It must be from being on-planet, she thought. If she’d been awakened in space, she would have been alert and functioning in seconds. Some part of her subconscious must keep track of her environment, and how life-threatening unexpected events were likely to be.

  Carson knew about Burnside, because she’d told him. Burnside would have no idea that Carson was here, and she hadn’t been awake enough to tell him on the comm. Well, this could be interesting.

  Just then Carson’s cabin door slid open, and he staggered out, not looking entirely awake himself, and clad only in shorts.

  “What’s going on?” he said. “It can’t be morning already?” There was no window in the cabin, and he obviously wasn’t awake enough to have checked the external cameras on the cabin’s console.

  “It’s oh dark thirty. Burnside just called. We’re about to have company. You might want to get dressed.” She grinned and looked him up and down.

  Carson glanced down at himself. “Uh, right. And I’ll take some coffee too, please.” He stepped back into the cabin, and emerged a minute later in his usual field clothes: tough khaki pants, shirt, and a multi-pocketed vest.

  He still looked like he needed coffee, and Roberts handed him a cup. He had just taken his first sip when there was a pounding on the airlock door.

  “That should be Burnside,” she said, and turned to check the external cameras. It was him, and he was alone. She opened the outer door to let him in.

  “Okay, hang back here in the galley for a moment,” she told Carson, then went forward to the inner lock door. Burnside rapped on it.

  “It’s me, Jackie. Do we have to go through this every time?”

  “I wanted to give you a heads up so you don’t overreact. I have company. Carson is here.”

  “What? How? Never mind, I think I know. Okay, thanks for the advance notice. Now I won’t accidentally shoot him on sight, if that’s what you were worried about.”

  She opened the inner door. “The thought did cross my mind,” she said. “Come on back and meet him. Coffee?”

  “Sounds good.”

  She stepped aside to let him past, then closed the door. She turned to see Burnside just standing in the corridor, hands raised. Carson was aiming a pistol at him.

  CHAPTER 34: CARSON AND BURNSIDE

  Aboard the Sophie

  JACKIE STEPPED ACROSS the corridor, clear of the line of fire. “What’s going on?”

  Almost simultaneously, Burnside and Carson said, “Is he really Carson?” and “Is he really Burnside?”

  “Yes and yes. Carson, put your gun down. Burnside, this is Hannibal Carson, archeologist. Hannibal, this is Jordan Burnside, or at least that’s the name he’s going by when it’s not John Smith. My contact here.”

  Carson lowered his weapon, but didn’t holster it. “Sorry, just checking. Tell me something a Velkaryan wouldn’t know.”

  “What? Oh, very well.” Burnside paused a moment, then said: “The carpet in Briefing Room Two in the Sawyer City headquarters is a
color best described as puke green. There’s no number on the door, the carpet is the only way to tell which room it is.”

  Carson laughed. “Good enough.” He slipped his pistol into the holster at the small of his back and held out a hand, which Burnside took and shook.

  “No harm done. Good to see you’re on the ball. No wonder Jackie here likes you.”

  “I—” Jackie started to protest, then dropped it. “He has his uses. Although I think his current record is that he’s gotten me into trouble more often than he’s gotten me out of it.”

  “Come on, it has to be at least the same. You’re not in trouble now.” Carson turned to Burnside. “Is she? Are we?”

  “Not yet, anyway. I’m surprised to see you here, Carson. There haven’t been any ships arrive since the Sophie, and there was a bright meteor last night. I’m guessing Ducayne arranged one of his, uh, high speed transports?”

  “You know about that?”

  “I’ve heard of it. Never ridden one myself, and I’ll admit it’s not something I’ll be sorry about if I never do.”

  “The trip wasn’t bad. The arrival was . . . interesting.”

  “I’ll bet. Anyway, it’s good that you’re here. I can use your help. Things have gotten . . . interesting.” He made a wry smile and looked at Carson.

  “Sit down, gentles,” Roberts said, gesturing to the seats at the galley table. “Anyone want anything besides coffee?” At the negative responses, she sat down herself. “Okay, Burnside, what’s going on?”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Burnside took a sip of his coffee and set the mug back on the table. “I ran into a little snag,” he said. “I’m going to need help picking up the cargo. That’s set for tomorrow, or rather later this morning. It’s too heavy and awkward to carry. If Vaughan knows who I am, and he might, given last night’s attack, then me hiring a pick-up to get it to the spaceport will raise a red flag and he’ll try to intercept.”

  “I get it,” said Roberts. “Since I’m just some independent cargo hauler, it wouldn’t be that unusual for me to pick something up from the warehouse that has just been sitting waiting.”

  “Exactly. Let’s just hope you’re not on their radar.”

  “Yeah. And I’ll have to clear it with the port cargo office. Since it’s not a small package, me picking it up won’t be unusual, but it’s customary to report such things. Burden of being an authorized courier. He sees me coming through the spaceport gate with a crate in the back of a pick-up truck, he’ll have questions. Like why I didn’t ask him where to get a truck, and what’s in the crate. I assume its labeled as something mundane?”

  “Mineral samples.”

  “Really?” Carson said. “At only a hundred kilos per cubic meter? I can’t think of any mineral that light.”

  “Machine parts didn’t make sense; frontier worlds import those, not export them. And people get finicky about exporting plant products. What else would you label it?”

  “Make it collectable mineralogical specimens,” Carson said.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “How well they’re packed. ‘Mineral samples’ is just a box of rocks. Mineralogical specimens, especially if intended to be collectible, are carefully selected. They might be delicate crystals, and are probably individually wrapped or in display boxes. With lots of padding. Put the destination as a university or a museum or something.”

  Burnside was impressed. Carson seemed to know what he was talking about, probably from working at a university. “Huh. Okay, that actually makes sense.”

  “Uh, there is a local business in exporting mineral specimens, right?” Roberts asked.

  “Can’t say that I’ve looked,” Burnside said. He assumed that most settled planets would have something like that, as well as exporters of other local natural objects for the collector trade. “Does it matter?”

  “We might want a layer of the real thing in the top of the crate, just in case somebody does open it,” she said. “Not that I’ve ever done any smuggling myself.”

  “Of course not,” Burnside said.

  “I’d like to keep my courier’s license, so no, I really haven’t.”

  Carson coughed loudly at that.

  “That I know of,” she said, and glared at Carson. “Passengers may have lied to me. Although since Hannibal is a professional archeologist, I’m sure any artifacts he’s carried have been cleared by the relevant office of antiquities, if any.” Her glare changed to a wide-eyed look of innocence.

  Burnside wondered what that was all about, but just said, “Okay then. I’ll talk to my contact and arrange for the artifact to be repackaged and camouflaged. Jackie, talk to the port cargo master, arrange for a transport vehicle, and I guess see what other packages he has going to Sol. I’ll address the cargo to Earth. Umm, Colorado School of Mines, in Golden. It’s near the Denver Spaceport. I know the area.”

  “That won’t work. It can’t be Sol.”

  “Why not. That’s in your range, isn’t it?”

  “It isn’t a matter of range. This planet gets, what, on average two-dozen immigrants every two weeks? They’re coming from Earth. In ships that go back to Earth. Nobody in their right mind would ship a cargo to the Solar system on a private charter. Those immigration ships go back mostly empty; they’ll haul cargo cheaper than I can. Me doing it would raise a red flag.”

  “Oh.” Burnside felt like someone had just burst his balloon. “Well, what’s in range that makes sense? Sure, Alpha Centauri, but that’s a bit of a red flag too, isn’t it? The Velkaryans must know we have a strong presence on Sawyers World.”

  Jackie ran through the possibilities. “Okay, settled worlds I can reach in one hop are at Alpha Centauri, Tau Ceti, Delta Pavonis, Epsilon Eridani—although I can’t imagine anyone wanting to send mineral specimens there—Epsilon Indi, and, well, Zeta Tucanae, but that’s not very settled. And you’ve already ruled out Alpha Centauri.”

  “So, Skead, Verdigris, or Taprobane,” Burnside confirmed, giving the names of the terraformed planets rather than their stars. “Verdigris is in the wrong direction, which doesn’t matter since we don’t want to actually go there, and it has a strong Velkaryan presence—”

  “Tell me about it,” said Carson, sympathetically.

  “Oh?” Burnside guessed there was a story there somewhere. “Anyway, that might raise a flag, or it might throw them off. Leave that for now. Skead and Taprobane are roughly in the same direction from here, right? With Alpha Centauri a bit farther?”

  “Less than ten light years from Taprobane. That’s pretty much the way I came. Label the crate for Kangara University at Clarkeville there. We can go by way of Skead and I’ll pick up any mail for both places. It fits.”

  “Excellent. Then we have a plan.”

  “So much for needing me,” Carson said.

  Burnside grinned at him. “You don’t actually think everything is going to go according to plan, do you? You’re part of Plan B.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Roberts walked in to the port cargo office later that morning, after a too-short nap and a bit of breakfast. She’d been half-hoping for someone else to be staffing the office that morning, but alas, it was the same eager but unhelpful clerk as the first time she’d been in here.

  “Good morning! I just thought I would check in and see if you had anything going in the general direction of Tau Ceti or Epsilon Indi. I got a lead on another cargo headed that way.”

  “Oh? Good for you. I’ll take a look, but you know you can access the data online, you with a courier license and all.” He turned to a console and began tapping out a query.

  “Thanks, that’s good to know.”

  “I’m not seeing anything just yet. We’ve got something for Sol, but the Speedwell will be in later today from Earth, she just entered the system early this morning. They’ll be going back directly, so they’ve got dibs on that car
go.”

  “Of course, I understand. I do have another question, though?”

  “Yes?”

  “This other cargo I mentioned. Sounds like it’s a bit big and heavy, is there a small flatbed or pickup I can use, or do you know where I could find one?”

  “There are a few rental places in town, you can search online. Spaceport has one but it’s for spaceport use only, and you’d need to be a port employee to drive it. I might be available after my shift, if you’re interested.”

  Something in his tone made Roberts wonder what he just might be available for, but she wasn’t interested. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind, but I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”

  “Oh, no bother, we could work something out.”

  Not likely. “Okay, but I’m not even sure I have that cargo yet. Thanks anyway. Talk to you later.” She turned to leave.

  “Pleased to be of assistance.”

  She rolled her eyes as she left the office. And they raised the landing fees for this? She headed back to her ship, tapping a query into her omni as she went.

  “Any luck?” Carson asked her as she came back aboard.

  “Yes, all bad,” Roberts said. “Spaceport might have a vehicle if I ‘work something out’ with the port cargo master, but he’d probably have to drive it. He mentioned there might be a rental place. The only one based at the port doesn’t really have anything suitable. I’ll check in town.” She transferred her omni connection over to the console in the galley.

  “Huh. You’d think there’d be something at the spaceport other than just cars,” Carson said. “What if someone wants to go into the field? See if they have a ground cruiser or something.”

  “We need something with a flatbed. That doesn’t sound like an expedition vehicle.”

  “Jackie, really. You’ve seen how much gear I can take along on an expedition. How do think we carry it? The crate’s not that big, we can probably throw it on a roof rack.”

  “Oh. Right. Stowing stuff on the outside of a vehicle is counter-intuitive for us starship captains. Okay, let’s see what they have.”