The Cronian Incident (The Formist Book 1)

by Matthew Williams

  Ward had taken this as a given until he had been privileged enough to take some time and tour Earthside, something which every Martian was told to experience at least once in their life. On that occasion, which had happened when he was still prepubescent, Ward had learned what spaciousness really looked like. More importantly, he learned what it felt like.

  Endless skies, open air, and a horizon you never caught up with. It was an experience which had awakened something deep within him, and which had put every other experience with enclosed spaces into a new perspective. Upon returning to Mars, he had learned even the most spacious of walls were still walls.

  And then came the years in which he’d been forced to move from one tiny space to another, serving out his prison sentence first on Vesta before his transfer to Mercury. As familiar as he was with the lifestyle that came with living inside, knowing death awaited you if you dared to take a single step outside without a pressure suit on, nothing could have prepared him for the constant feeling of being caught between the claustrophobia and agoraphobia brought on by his confinement.

  It was a feeling unlike being aboard a ship, which was at least a space in transit, bound to get somewhere soon and release you. No, within a pressurized enclosure – barely big enough to house people and give them room to breathe – and moving at a fixed rate that kept it along the same predestinated path, you knew what it was like to be confined.

  When he stepped into the designated hut where he expected to find Doctor Amaru, the feeling struck him again. A slight twinge in his body as deep recesses in his mind recognized the presence of a familiar trigger. He paused momentarily to take a few breaths, letting the medimachines in his bloodstream do their best to combat the onset of panic.

  It wasn’t the dimensions of the hut itself triggering this reaction. Had it been a mere matter of cubic meters, he would have experienced many such attacks before reaching Burr. The ride on the transit line would have been difficult and the trip in the crawler unbearable. No, here, it was the presence of so many bodies within the relatively confined space that was doing it. All around the hut, seated at terminals, standing near windows, barking into headsets or at each other, twelve or so people were hard at work in the cramped interior and showing obvious signs of stress.

  A dozen bodies occupying the same space, breathing the same air, fighting for their share of room. The din they were creating was unintelligible to Ward, washing over him like thundering breakers against a shore, indistinguishable from the bloodcurdling cries of convicts fighting over a piece of meat or the right to piss in a specific corner. All he heard with any clarity was his own breathing and his heart pounding in his ears.

  Not now, dammit. Need to make a good impression.

  “Mr. Ward?” a voice called to him. Ward abruptly realized he was half bent over with his face aimed at the floor. Snapping upright, he was greeted by the face of a middle-aged man with display goggles sitting on his forehead. His face was scrunched into a tight, scrutinizing frown.

  Oh, thank goodness, Ward thought. Whoever this one was, it wasn’t Amaru.

  “Yes,” Ward managed to get out, catching his breath. “That’s me. Who are you?”

  “The station chief.” The man pointed at the ID mounted over his left breast. The tag had a similarly unflattering photo ID next to a chip containing his biometrics. The name Johnson was scrawled in English script next to it. “You looking for the Doc?”

  Ward nodded. As apt enough a description as he thought he was going to get. Johnson waved for him to follow. He turned and began making his way through the human throng, across the floor of the hut. Ward felt a slight twinge of panic again as he began to follow, but it seemed his machinery had a handle on things now. Either that or the suddenness of Johnson’s arrival had pushed him past it.

  They came to the corner of the hut, standing next to the large window looking out onto the ice field. A woman hovered over a technician who was staring resolutely at his terminal, refusing to meet her steady gaze. The woman’s hands were waving and she was undoubtedly engaged in some gentle berating.

  Johnson came to within an arm’s reach of her and stopped, standing erect like a soldier coming to an attention and waiting to be noticed. This was undoubtedly Doctor Amaru. Ward looked at Amaru, then back to Johnson. If he didn’t know better, he would have surmised the man was too nervous to interrupt her.

  Patiently, they waited for several long seconds, until Amaru appeared to hit a break. Ward overheard some of the complaints escaping her mouth.

  “. . . core samples six and nine both show signs of microbiological colonies! They couldn’t have come from the same vein, not with this kind of architecture in them!” The technician issued some defense Ward couldn’t hear. “Well, the miners are lying then! We’ve been over this a million times. If they mislabel a sample, it screws up my entire analysis!”

  When the pause came, Johnson cleared his throat loudly. Amaru looked at him angrily.

  “What is it, Johnson?” She paused as she registered the presence of Ward and scoffed quietly. “Right, I forgot he was coming. Can you give us a moment?”

  Johnson nodded, tapping the technician on the shoulder and beckoning at him to follow. The two left the corner of the hut hurriedly, leaving Ward and Amaru there alone. Ward stared at Amaru for a moment, though he wasn’t sure why. The natural beauty he had noted when looking at her dossier was certainly there. It was hidden beneath some rough edges, but it was there nonetheless.

  That wasn’t why he stared, though. Now they were meeting, he seemed to be waiting for something from her. Some indication of who and what she was, a hint to the mysteries that seemed to arise from everything he had read about her. For the moment, he had forgotten all about the other people crowded into the room and his borderline attack of claustrophobia. His eyes and his attention were now completely fixed on her, eating up every single detail of her face, her stance, and her outward behavior.

  It didn’t last, shattered by Amaru’s grating tone.

  “So, you’re Inspector Ward?” she said, placing some contemptible emphasis on the word Inspector. Ward smiled curtly and extended his hand.

  “Doctor Amaru. Good to meet you at last.”

  “Is it?” she said with some measure of disbelief. “I trust that band of goons at Lovelock had a few things to say about me?”

  Ward frowned, dismayed things had turned confrontational so quickly. That was quite telling. “They stuck to what was in your dossier, Doctor. I had a read of it myself, quite impressive.”

  “Right.” The sarcasm dripped from her reply as she turned to the monitor next to them. “So where do you want to do this? Here? Or were you going to wait until we were aboard the ship?”

  “This?” Ward repeated, confused by her question.

  “Yes! When are you going to start grilling me about where I was, what I was doing, and all the rest? I’m not stupid, Inspector. I know the Chandrasekhars haven’t dismissed me as a suspect.”

  Ward held his hands up apologetically. “If they are, they’re keeping it to themselves. As for me, I have some routine questions to ask. It’s mainly so I can get a better idea of what happened leading up to your colleague’s disappearance.”

  Amaru stepped forward, so close he felt her warm breath on his cheek, and scrutinized his face. After a moment, she broke the deadlock, a look of relief on her face. “I believe you.”

  “Really?” Ward replied. “And that surprises you?”

  “Yes.”

  Good, Ward thought. Years of being locked away hadn’t cost him the ability to put on the steely-eyed look when needed. That would come in handy if he was going to learn all he might from her, which, despite recent claims, actually did include where she was and what she had been doing the night of Lee’s disappearance.

  “Why don’t we go over what I’m doing here now?” She pointed to the terminal. “Doctor Lee and I were responsible for examining core samples taken from this ice field. Since his . . .” She hesitated
, as if searching for the correct word. “Departure, I’ve been continuing it on my own.”

  “Certainly,” said Ward, moving next to the terminal’s seat. “From what I understand, it had to do with microbial traces in the samples you were having extracted?”

  “That’s right.” She hopped into the seat and pulled the terminal’s console towards her. Looking up at him, he caught a flash of her deep brown eyes. There was a sudden spark there, as if something deep inside her mind was coming on. “How much do you know about exobiology?”

  “Let’s pretend I know nothing,” Ward replied.

  A small, playful smile formed on her face. Her brown eyes seemed to widen a little. Ward looked into them for the first time since their introduction, noting the depth in them.

  “Okay, we’ll go slowly then.”

  #

  They arrived on the platform together. Carson was waiting for them, casually smoking another cig when he spotted Ward and Amaru approaching. He instantly perked up when he saw Amaru, and tossed the smoke. Pushing out the last exhalation, he looked up to greet her happily. “Doctor Amaru! Good to see you again.”

  “Likewise,” she said, smiling in a way which was obviously fake. Carson stood looking at her for a moment before acknowledging Ward.

  “Ah, you too, sir. Good to have you back.”

  “Carson,” Ward said levelly, slapping his satchel bag against his leg. “We good to go?”

  Carson nodded, his eyes darting urgently between them. “Yeah, no problem. We’re all fueled up and clear to leave as soon as you guys are ready.”

  A few more tense seconds passed as Carson stared at Amaru again. She finally broke the silence, knowing as Ward did he was waiting on her order. “Well, let’s get moving then.”

  Carson nodded again and promptly moved to open the hatch. Ducking inside, he absently waved at them to follow. Ward looked to the deck and spotted the smoldering cig. It dawned on him Carson was trying to get one in before she arrived, no doubt wanting to avoid indulging in such a déclassé habit in front of the lady he was smitten with.

  When Ward had been his only passenger, he had extended no such courtesies. Ward began to wonder if the presence of the good doctor would change things for the remainder of their voyage. Among all those she had met, he doubted that only their driver was taken with her.

  “You coming?” Amaru called from the open hatch. Ward snapped to and followed her in, taking the seat in the back. He assumed Carson would want to ride with her up front.

  He was right.

  Nineteen

  It felt somewhat odd, thought Ward, looking over hard copies of Doctor Amaru’s reports, holding the thin sheets in his hand as he read over the dynamic text. He had become somewhat accustomed to reading reports and two-dimensional displays while on Vesta and at Prokofiev. His augments meant actual reading was no longer a necessity, which made it seem terribly slow and cumbersome.

  Ward had told Amaru she could merely upload them directly to his neural loom. However, she had been quite insistent. If they were to be reading on the go, she wanted it to be from copies of her work printed directly from the Burr site’s own data stores. Something about letting him assimilate the data struck her as unpalatable.

  In any case, it was mostly a restatement of what she had shown him at the facility. As she had explained, she and Lee had been charged with overseeing drilling samples from Burr and other ice fields across Callisto. Every sample had to be rigorously tested for traces of indigenous extremophile organisms.

  Her notes had been clear that within each sample, various levels of bio-contamination were to be found, or they were perfectly clean. The variations between the two not only corresponded to different drill depths, but also to different veins and locations. When digging deep, the penetration of halophiles was sure to be found. And wherever the depth of the surface ice was thinnest, or where concentrations of ammonia in the ice allowed for liquid water to reach closer to the surface, the hardy little buggers were sure to get higher.

  The task, as he had been made to understand, was making sure enough drill sites could be found to be completely bio-free. If the Formists were going to begin harvesting mass quantities of ice from Callisto for their purposes on Mars, they had to ensure there was no chance of crossover contamination. Jovian microorganisms couldn’t be allowed to penetrate the Martian environment. As hostile as the Martian ecology was, any “alien” organisms could complicate their efforts at creating a new ecology, one as close to Earth’s as possible.

  There was quite a bit to look at, and the documents went back several years. Many of Amaru’s reports were addressed to Doctor Lee, covering all the surveys conducted when he wasn’t there in person, or was unable to telepresence in. Others were addressed to people higher in the Faction, some even to Doctor Emile himself.

  Despite the tedium Ward felt having to read through it all, he could tell Amaru had put a great deal of time and effort into her work. She also appeared to be enjoying it. Within every abstract and conclusion, she wrote like someone who was pursuing something cutting-edge, venturing into the realm of the unknown to uncover ancient mysteries.

  Ward supposed there was something to that. Not more than a century ago, humans had reacted with extreme enthusiasm to know there was indeed life beyond their world. Though it was strictly in microbial form, finding it was considered one of the greatest achievements humanity had made to date.

  So why did he feel like he was going to fall asleep if he read another page?

  It was at this point he looked up from the page to see her sitting across from him. For the sake of their return trip, they had booked a private coach aboard the transit line. A minor convenience, given how brief the trip would be, but it did give them time to do some quiet reading. While she busied herself with what appeared to be mundane work, he used the time to examine her research, and her as well.

  She had lost the thick parka she’d been wearing in the installation. Her long white coat looked like something akin to the robes he’d spotted on people at Sarak Lovelock. Yet compared to the nanofiber weave Emile had worn, Amaru’s seemed remarkably more practical and made of something far simpler. It was also much more form-fitting, cinched around the waist with a taupe belt. Her boots were the least fashioned item about her. Simple faux-leather things with metal straps, thick heels looking like they’d seen quite a bit of wear in their time.

  “Looking for something?”

  Ward snapped to attention as he realized he had been caught staring. She had that playful smile on her face again. Shuffling the Folio around, he did his best to hide his embarrassment.

  “Sorry, taking a break from looking all this over.”

  She put her Folio aside. The smile disappeared as she looked to meet his eyes. “When are you going to ask me?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Her expression morphed into a frown. “Don’t try to be coy, Inspector. We both know you’re thinking it. Now cut the crap and ask.”

  Ward pursed his lips. He had been wondering when he would broach the subject with her, and had also been waiting for the proper moment. Ward placed the Folio down next to him and took a deep breath. “Okay, how close were you and Doctor Lee?”

  She smiled again, though now it was tinged with sadness. “By that, you of course mean, were we having an affair?”

  “That’s what I’m trying not to say, Doctor.”

  Amaru looked angry at first, before smiling involuntarily. Ward could tell his attempt at humor had landed, since she also turned her head away. Iswolski had once told him one of the best ways to diffuse a situation was with a little playful honesty. Knowing when and where to apply this to a potential suspect, however, was a bit tricky. In general, it was shortly after they realized they were a suspect. Once this happened, any assurances given to them would seem hollow, and any promises complete lies.

  “Fine,” she said. “You want to know the nature of our relationship? We were friends and colleagues, Inspector. Nothing more
.”

  Ward leaned forward. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any behavioral software to monitor Amaru’s reactions, nothing to measure her pupil dilation, heart rate, breathing, micro-expressions or micro-movements. But he had plenty of experience of doing things the old-fashioned way, and what he learned here he would very quickly assemble into a package to create a profile on her.

  Issuing a non-verbal command, he instructed his neural software to begin recording their conversation as part of the profile. He would be sure to make the necessary notes as they went.

  “So,” he began, “you’re saying there was no romantic entanglement to speak of?”

  “That’s an interesting choice of words,” Amaru countered, repeating his words back to him. “‘Romantic entanglement,’ which naturally implies we were somehow prisoners of our passions, our lust, or basic desires.”

  A deflection. Always a good sign. Equally an indication of wanting to avoid the question as an oppositional response to the fact it was being asked. Ward chose to take the playful route again.

  “Sounds fun when you put it like that,” he said lightly.

  She laughed. Whether at his remark or the thought she and Lee were lovers, Ward couldn’t initially tell. Her response, however, seemed to indicate it was the latter.

  “David was married, Inspector. And, to be honest, he was the most straight-laced man I ever met. Even if I did have romantic feelings for him – which I assure you, I didn’t – he wouldn’t have let anything come of it.”

  Now it was Ward’s turn to repeat something she had said, with special emphasis. “I’m sorry, ‘straight-laced’?”

  “Yes,” she said, frowning. “You’ve never heard that saying before?”