“But they didn’t find any nanites in the waste tank,” I said. “They found a warship. A solid craft. Nanites work in a group, not as a single unit, millions of tiny machines all doing their own assignment.”
Anstruther beckoned me to the microscope.
“Take a look, sir. I only did a spectrographic analysis on the sludge before, but after we examined the merchant ships, I took a really close look at it. There are nanites in the sample, but they’re not all individuals.”
I peered into the eyepieces. I had seen nanites before. At minor magnification, a group of them looked like a handful of silver sand. At a much greater amplification, they resembled neat little globes studded over with tools so small that they ended in pincers or cutters made from single molecules. Instead, what lay under the scope looked like a box of broken toys.
“But these create shapes,” I said, in amazement. “They are still as tiny as a miser’s heart, but these look like pieces of something.”
“They’re made to go together,” Anstruther said. “Form things.”
“As in a stray one-pilot fighter?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Plet cleared her throat. “That’s probably why all the nanites were missing from the ship’s systems. In order to form the patterns that were programmed into them, they would have sought out any other nanites nearby. They had the transit time to form into the fighter craft and those weapons.”
“But why did they form before the checkpoint?”
“I think it was a mistake,” Anstruther said. “Otherwise we would never have known. The program malfunctioned in some way.”
“Do you know how the program worked that tells the nanites to become a specific object?”
“Not yet, sir,” Anstruther said, her pointed chin set firmly. “The navy’s development arm is working on parallel practices. I’m trying to read the coding against the programs we use, but they’re a lot more primitive than what these people, whoever they are, have already accomplished. I’m running dozens of programs on different samples, trying to unlock their system. Once I can read the original code, I’ll be able to trace the programmer and find out who commissioned the program. In the meantime, I can wipe the nanites’ memories and reinitialize them with the system we have. Want to see?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
Nesbitt plunked a pulse rifle on an electrically charged plate on Anstruther’s table and stood back.
“This is from the stash the customs agents found,” he said.
Anstruther pulled a dish of gleaming powder and sprinkled some of it on the gun. Then she activated her tablet. The rifle promptly collapsed into a long, narrow pile of silver. I was enchanted.
“Could you do that to the war skimmer?” I asked eagerly.
“I already did,” she said. She brought me to the side of the room where a utilitarian plastic barrel stood and lifted the top. Light gleamed upon the contents.
“This silver powder was a fighter craft? Fascinating!” I ran my hands through the mass.
“They are not silver,” Plet corrected me. “They’re made of a dozen elements, but mainly iron, boron, silicon and platinum.”
“What fun!” I exclaimed. “I’d love to play with them. I never got to have any fun with the ones on board the Bonchance. We were always working. What can you make them do?”
“There’s nothing you can’t make out of these.”
She tapped at her tablet. The contents of the barrel seemed to quiver. The surface seemed to curl up and bead together. Before my eyes, figures of animals formed, perfect in every detail. They melded together and became a ball. The ball flattened out and elongated into the shape of a sword. I reached for it.
“Careful,” Redius said. “Truly sharp.”
I withdrew my hand. Anstruther tapped her screen, and the knife became a ladle.
“Watch this,” she said. She picked up the ladle and scooped up a pile of the powder. “Hold out your hand.”
I turned up my palm to catch the silver stream. Instead of piling into my cupped hand, they shimmered right through my skin and sifted back into the barrel.
“That’s amazing!” I said. “I never realized they were that small. How did Ensign Dee keep his in their box, if they can fall through other structures?”
“Their programming,” Anstruther said. “Individually, they’re almost indestructible. They can lift a thousand times their own weight.” A mischievous look crossed her face, and a silver ribbon of the nanites streamed out of the barrel. It spread over the floor and formed a translucent mat underneath my feet. I felt myself being pushed upward. I windmilled my arms to stay upright. Anstruther blushed with pride as she brought me down again. The silver square liquidated and retreated up the side of the barrel once more.
“I would play with this all day,” I said. “But games aside, the nanites were shipped here to form weaponry. What other destructive items were brought in in this innocent fashion?”
“We don’t know,” Nesbitt said.
“The Bertus own the company that sent the shipment to Way Station 46,” Plet said. “Therefore, we must assume they’re responsible for the hijacking nanites. We have inspected their ship, the Pelican, but it looks like the Bertus already made a delivery here on Nacer. Their ship’s holds are empty. Their manifest passing into the Autocracy said they were carrying ingots and metal chips.”
“All made up of nanites. Lord Rimbalius needs to know that,” I said.
“He does. Since I couldn’t inform Commander Parsons, I brought this information to the prime minister myself,” Plet said.
“I’ll bet he did the Uctu equivalent of tearing his hair out,” I said, picturing the choleric minister reacting to the phlegmatic lieutenant unfolding her tale.
“He . . . was openly upset,” Plet admitted. “He said that his agents always hear rumors of planned coups or attacks against the Autocrat’s rule.”
“Against Visoltia? Who could possibly want to harm that adorable little girl?” I asked, horrified.
“The High Protector confesses himself baffled. He told me that he has suspected that there was some kind of attack being planned, but until now, he had no idea how weapons were being smuggled across the border. Anstruther demonstrated the process to him. This new technology means that an arsenal can be built up anywhere. It caught him by surprise, to be honest. He doesn’t know what they haven’t caught, and what is already in system. It would suggest that an insurgency is imminent. Now he wants to interrogate the Bertus to see how much of this nanite material they sent in, or brought in.”
“They’re in the House of Deep Welcome,” I said. “Parsons knows that.”
“Yes, sir, that is where they were staying, but they have vanished.”
I felt as though the platform beneath my feet had been swept away, precipitating me onto the floor in a heap.
“What? When?”
“Commander Parsons sent me over to their hotel to put some listening devices into their rooms,” Nesbitt said. “They’re empty. The desk robot said that six humans, a Croctoid and a couple of Bluts were checked in, but they left the hotel and didn’t come back.”
“Where did they go?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Plet said. “It is possible that Commander Parsons left to find them. I wish I could reach him.”
“Can’t you trace their devices? Their pocket secretaries and other electronics must hitch into the local Infogrid just as ours do.”
“We could, but they left them behind, sir,” Plet said. “The Bertus must have had an idea they were being watched. All of their personal electronic devices are still in their rooms. The High Protector’s staff is trying to break the encryption on them. Only the people themselves and a few pieces of clothing are missing. As no tracers have ever been planted on their persons, we can’t locate them. They’re not on their ship, and the crew hasn’t seen them in weeks.”
I was downcast.
“So we have no way of knowing when an attack might
come. Does the High Protector have an inkling as to where or when they might strike?”
“None at all.”
I struck my palm against the table, making the nanites jump.
“The obvious time is at the accession feast! Her Serenity has to call it off.”
Plet shook her head. “Lord Rimbalius tried to persuade her, but Her Serenity insisted that it will go ahead. In the meanwhile, our ships have joined the Uctu forces scanning the immediate area for any more fighter craft. But it is vital we locate the Bertus.”
“Life and death, but it is likely that we won’t see them again until it’s too late.” A thought occurred to me, one ray of hope in the utter darkness that was falling. “This new information ought to give credence to the merchants’ assertions that they did not know they were carrying contraband.”
Plet’s face wore a sympathetic cast.
“I’m sorry, sir. Our discovery shows that ingesting the nanites did make the weapons appear on their ships, but it doesn’t prove they didn’t know about it.”
“I am certain they didn’t!” I insisted. “You have only to talk with them to hear it.”
“Even guilty people say they’re innocent,” Nesbitt said, his voice hoarse. He hated to argue with me. I regarded him with sympathy, but I knew I was right.
Plet shook her head. “Only the people who planted them in the food dispensers can tell us that. We have to find the Bertus. The High Protector’s staff has offered to let us see the images from the video pickups placed around the city. We may be able to trace the Bertus’ steps from the time you last saw them at the hotel. We’ll be working with the Uctu armed services from now until we find out what’s really happening.” She nodded to the crew, who switched off equipment and prepared themselves to go.
I approached Anstruther, who tucked her tablet into a shoulder pouch, along with a fist-sized stunner.
“Are you coming with us?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I promised to visit the prisoners this afternoon. I can at least bring them this good news. But I have a favor to ask of you.”
“I’d be happy to,” Anstruther said, her face flushing again. “What do you need?”
I ran my hand through the mass of nanites on the table. “These give me an idea. I have a notion that will surprise and delight the Autocrat. I can’t and wouldn’t shield her from knowledge of the potential threat, but at least I can help lift her spirits. Will you help me to make it work?”
“Of course . . . Thomas!”
“Keep it under your hat in the meanwhile,” I said, keeping my voice low. Plet was already standing by the door of the suite, about to bark the order to fall in. “We will talk later. I want this to be a surprise for everyone, including Parsons. I like our relationship always to be infused with a sense of the unexpected.”
“I promise,” she whispered, then hurried to join the others.
CHAPTER 42
The contents of the parcels I brought in on a floating sled were thoroughly vetted by Captain Oren and his guards before I was allowed to take them into the lockup. The Uctu guards seemed bemused as to why I was bringing foodstuffs when the prisoners were being fed adequately. It wasn’t a case of my vocabulary being inadequate, only my ability to sway them. In any case, Captain Oren allowed everything to pass but the yarn and knitting needles that Etta Rissul had asked for. I supposed at a stretch they could be used as weapons, but so could everything else, if one were creative enough.
I stopped in each of the cells, greeting the prisoners and offering reassurances and pleasant conversation. They were all grateful for the gifts and the news. The Wichus grabbed the carton of beer before I could hand it over. Accustomed to Oskelev’s rough friendliness, I didn’t take offense. They needed to cope in their own way. I told everyone what my crew and I had discussed. They all steeled themselves, working the knowledge into the defenses that they were mustering for the upcoming trial.
I saved my visit to the Coppers for last. Ms. Copper seemed pleasantly overwhelmed by the fruits of my shopping, but even more by the information I brought her.
“There was what in the food?” she asked again and again. She shook her head in disbelief. “No wonder the disposers in the landing bay were shut off! They wanted to make sure that, uh, that everything got into the waste tank. That is the sneakiest thing I ever heard of.”
“It does speak of a long-laid plot,” I said, trying not to watch directly as Nona, the elder daughter, tried on the magnetic earrings I had brought her. A quick run through the shopping precinct I had been forced to abandon the evening before had borne charming fruit. I wished that I could have brought them clothing, to replace the appalling green jumpsuits everyone was forced to wear, but no amount of persuasive talk could move Captain Oren to allow that exception.
Nine-year-old Lerin had received the adventure book-game unit I had brought him with a look of dismay for my stupidity.
“You know we sell these, right?” he said. “I bet you paid five times our cost for this.”
“But those are all on your ship, and this one is here,” I pointed out, in a friendly fashion. He couldn’t argue my logic. He retreated with his brother to play with the game in the children’s room, but not before fingering the lucky circuit hanging around his neck, all gold LEDs but the single blood-red light at the center.
“Thanks for this, though,” he said.
“My pleasure,” I assured him.
“We have to talk to our lawyer about the nanites. He knows we didn’t have any knowledge of them,” Rafe Copper said, his odd-colored eyes intense. His long back was straighter than it had been since I had met them. My news perked him up. I was glad to see the change.
“Mr. Allisjonil has the files,” I assured him. “The clerk of courts has already been in touch with him. This speaks of a deeper and more complicated situation. In light of the new information, your trial may be delayed.”
“No!” M’Kenna Copper said, running her hands over her hair. I noticed that it had been neatly braided and fastened at each tip with wine-colored beads. “Can’t we get released on our own recognizance, or moved to some other facility, one with more room? We can’t get off this planet, but I have to get out of this cell or I’m going to go insane.”
“I am sorry to deliver more disappointment,” I said. “I spoke to the ambassador. She has been fighting for that, but the High Protector is unwilling until they can lay hands on the real culprits. You are safer in here than you are out there.”
Her eyes lit with wild fear.
“No, we’re not. What you tell me just means we’re in more danger than ever. They’ve tried to kill us more than once already, right here in this jail!”
I cudgeled my brain to think of a solution.
“Perhaps Captain Oren can be persuaded to put a guard on each cell until the trial? After that you will be free to go.”
“They’ll tell you they don’t have the staff,” Ms. Copper spat. “Not when they’re bringing in even more so-called smugglers.”
My ears perked up.
“More smugglers?” I asked, horrified. “The authorities intercepted another shipment?”
Ms. Copper aimed a thumb at the wall. “On that side. They brought in a man last night. He was yelling his head off that the stuff in his ship wasn’t his. Rafe’s been talking to him through the wall. He’s furious at being arrested. Just like we were.” She looked dismayed, even lost. “He hasn’t had time to lose hope.”
“I will have to visit him and see if there is anything I can do for him,” I said. I rose and shook hands with the Coppers. “I wish there was more I could do for you. But please, don’t lose hope.”
M’Kenna Copper stood up to see me to the cell door.
“We’re grateful for what you’ve done already,” she said. “I’m sorry for the harsh things I said to you before. What you are doing is helping. We just have to hang on and hope they see we really are innocent.”
“I have faith that they will,” I sai
d.
The guard waiting with my now empty sled let me out of the cell.
“I would like to meet the new prisoner,” I said.
“Allowed,” the guard said, a mature male with narrow shoulders and a long face. “But from outside. He is violent.”
“I understand,” I said. “Perhaps I can persuade him to calm down. You are not his enemy. Whoever put him here is.”
Almost afraid of what I might see, I peered in the cell door. A lanky figure in an ill-fitting green coverall sat hunched on his bunk, his face buried in his hands. The leg of the jumpsuit was split, revealing the man’s knee. Stains on the legs and shoulders spoke of the struggle that the guards had had getting him into the cell.
“Excuse me, sir. May I speak with you? My name is Lord Thomas Kinago. I am an emissary from the Imperium. I will give you all the help I can.”
Slowly, the human raised his head, revealing a long, narrow, unshaven face full of trepidation and anger. His thick black hair was disheveled. I was horrified and fascinated at the same time.
It was Parsons.
I swallowed, gathering my wits together and enjoining them to do the best that they had ever done in my life. There had to be a good reason why Parsons was occupying a cell in the Uctu holding facility. I must under no circumstances allow it to be assumed that we knew one another. Still, my sense of humor got the better of me. A smile spread across my lips. I could not have restrained it if I tried.
“Well, fellow,” I said. “It seems the authorities at last have you where you belong.”
To my surprise, Parsons seemed to approve this line of badinage.
“That’s not true, your lordship,” he said. I noticed that he spoke in a rough accent, and his voice had taken on a peculiar nasal tone I associated with those brought up in the Ramulthy system.
“Do you know this human?” the guard inquired.
“I do,” I said. “At least, I have seen his image on the tri-dee broadcasts. He is a famous shipper in the Imperium. I always wondered how he seemed to have grown so rich on such ordinary cargo.”
Fortunes of the Imperium Page 45
