Roget felt a chill deep inside. Outsystem attachment to the Federation Interstellar Service was where FSA sent expendable agents. “I wouldn’t know, sir, but it sounds interesting.”
“I’m certain you’ll enjoy these assignments far more than you would in spending years in data analysis as a permanent captain, Agent-Major Roget.” The colonel smiled politely.
Data analysis wasn’t a choice; it was a veiled death sentence, if not by disappearance when everyone had forgotten him, then by sheer boredom, or by bankruptcy and/or extreme poverty by being forced to live in the Taiyuan area on a captain’s stipend.
“When do I start… and where, sir?”
“I thought you’d like the opportunity, Major. You’ll leave on Saturday for Xichang. There you will undergo a three-week indoctrination into FIS customs and procedures and be fitted for equipment. Certain internals will also have to be reconfigured for space applications. Then you’ll be sent to Ceres station. That’s where the IS trains its small-craft pilots. You’ll also be brought up to speed on deep-space station systems and datanets, as well as a few other technical applications.”
If the FSA wanted to spend that many yuan on providing him with such intensive additional training, Roget reflected, it was likely that future missions might be highly risky but not necessarily suicidal. The FSA mandarins still had to justify their expenditures to the Council.
Besides, what realistic choices did he have?
29
24 MARIS 1811 p. d.
While Roget had waited inside the dropboat, his outer hull had been tested, inspected, prodded, and probed with every device known to the Federation—or so it had seemed. Then they had started in probing within, still from outside the dropboat, accessing all data and scanning the interior of his craft. An exterior physical inspection of the dropboat hull and systems followed. Hours later, he had been allowed into the corvette’s loading lock, where he’d been scanned, remotely, along with all of his gear, and all of the documentation he had brought back. Then he’d had to strip and be inspected once more. He’d been allowed to dress in his shipsuit, but the Dubietan pressure suit and his helmet remained behind.
Once he’d been cleared onboard the corvette, he’d been immediately escorted into the small squarish comm room off the corvette’s tiny ops bay, where he had been left by himself. The consoles were all locked and on remote, and so quiet was the space that he could hear his own breathing. He could also smell his own sweat, not from fear, but from the heat and the time waiting in a pressure suit. A large water bottle sat in a holder on the right side of the console bay. Roget took a long swallow, then sat waiting, knowing that all manner of scanners and the like were trained on him. His eyes dropped to his pack, still holding the emergency shipsuit in its packet. The maps had been removed, but not his personal items and clothing. While the pack had been scanned, no one had removed the shipsuit. Was it transparent to Federation scanners? Or had the techs merely considered it as a shipsuit?
Abruptly, the image of Colonel Tian appeared, sitting behind his console on the WuDing. “Greetings, Major. Welcome back. You appear to have weathered your landing and the time on Haze.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me what happened. Begin just before your dropboat reached the orbital shield. Please take your time. No detail is unimportant.”
Roget had doubts about that, but replied, “Yes, sir. The orientation imparted by my initial course allowed insertion in the same orbital pattern as the upper orbital shield, but I had to increase my relative speed considerably…” From there, Roget continued through his rocky descent and landing and his time on Dubiety. He had to stop more than a few times for water, and he was hoarse and raspy when he finally finished his summary.
Colonel Tian gave a last nod but did not say anything immediately.
Roget understood. The colonel was getting the interpretation of all the data obtained from observing Roget.
Finally, the colonel did speak. “Your physiological workup indicates that you have been in a gravity well that matches that observed of Haze. Since there has been no indication of any mass large enough to generate artificial gravity anywhere else near here, it does appear likely that you have indeed been on the planetary surface. Likewise, you have been physically active, and your hair samples and tissue analyses indicate exposure to a T-type world, but one with a similar but differing ecology.” The colonel paused. “Those results suggest that you were physically present and active on Haze, since replicating those results otherwise would require an extremely advanced technology at variance with what we have observed. Also, the sample distribution supports your presence on-planet.”
The fact that the colonel continued to use “Haze” in speaking of Dubiety suggested his own doubts about Roget’s account, but Roget merely replied dispassionately, “My own observations suggested that counterfeiting my experiences would have been difficult.”
“But not necessarily impossible.”
“Anything is possible to a sufficiently advanced technology, sir.”
“To their technology?”
“I don’t believe that they went to that extreme, sir, but there are certain aspects of their technology that appear unique, as I have mentioned.”
“Which do you think are most unique?”
“The high-speed subtrans system is one, both its operating speed and its extent, especially the deep tubes between continents. Their ability to communicate without any stray radiation is another. The ability to create multiple artificial magnetic poles with enough power and variance to use to control the levels of orbital shields is a third.”
“The first two are mere adaptations of existing Federation technology. Why do you find them so unique, Major?”
“The amount of additional resources and effort required to construct them suggests that there well may be other reasons for their use and existence.”
“And what might those be, do you think?”
“I have no idea, sir. But the Dubietans I met seemed very pragmatic.”
“It seems less than pragmatic to return any agents, especially one in a disoriented state.”
“I doubt they do anything without a reason, sir.”
“Nor do I, Major. Why do you think they returned you?”
“To show good will. To demonstrate that they could.” To warn you. “To suggest they have advanced technology.”
“That is certainly what they would wish you—and us—to believe. If they have such, why not use it in a way that leaves no doubt?”
“They claim that they do not wish to be the ones to offer any hostile action against the Federation or any action that might be perceived as hostile.”
“A most convenient excuse not to show their supposed advanced technology.”
“Sir … it would seem to me that the course line and velocity with which my dropboat was returned suggests an advanced technology. So do the orbital shields. So do the repairs to the dropboats.”
“Comparable technology, Major, not advanced technology.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but I’ve not seen any Federation technology that is comparable to that.”
“Begging your pardon, Major, how would you know?” The colonel’s tone was flat.
Roget decided to offer another approach. “The Dubietans also stated that no amount of proof would convince the Federation if it were not disposed to be convinced.”
“Did they say that in so many words, Major?”
“They were somewhat more blunt. They sent the technology documentation. They rebuilt the dropboat, and they returned me, and they suggested that the Federation would find none of that convincing.” Roget could see that the Dubietans had read the colonel correctly.
Colonel Tian’s image looked blandly at Roget. “The diagnostics on the dropboat and the tracking of your return course indicate that you didn’t lift off from Haze at all.”
Roget repressed a sigh. “In fact, I did. Rather the Dubietans launched me-”
&
nbsp; “Exactly how did they launch you?”
“From a rather elaborate cradle in the middle of their launch complex, as I indicated.”
“Are you still convinced this launch complex was underground? Are you certain that wasn’t another illusion?”
Roget let the illusion reference pass. He’d never said anything was an illusion. “I traveled there by their tube system. My internals indicated we descended quite a bit to get there. I would think that the dropboat recorders would have provided details.”
“Nothing shows on the datacorders between the time of your landing and the time, within a few nanoseconds, when your dropboat appeared on the farscreens and EDIs of various Federation vessels.”
That meant the dropboat had recorded his landing. “Then we have a record of the planetary parameters.”
“If they can be trusted,” replied Tian.
“They match what I’ve reported and what your analyses already show.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because, sir, you would have told me if they had not, and you would have dismissed all that I have reported far sooner. I would also guess that there is no evidence at all of tampering with the recording systems of either dropboat.”
The faintest hint of a frown appeared on the colonel’s face but vanished immediately. “Oh … and what might that indicate?”
“That they have a very advanced technology. If they did not tamper with the data, then what I have said bears that out, and if they did, and we cannot detect it, then they also have advanced technology.”
“You are rather adamant about that, Major.”
“I know what I saw, sir. I also know what I brought back and how I returned to the ZengYi. Has anyone had a chance to study the documentation the Dubietans sent?”
“We don’t have a science team here, Major. The engineers are looking over what’s been scanned to us. We’re not about to datalink.”
The Federation had known about Dubiety… and they hadn’t dispatched a single scientist with the WuDing? “Supposedly, the data can be read on an independent system.”
“That may be, Major, but the ZengYi doesn’t have that kind of equipment, and I’m not about to risk anything like that onboard a capital ship.”
Roget could understand that, but he didn’t understand why a portable console couldn’t be transferred to the corvette … unless the colonel wasn’t all that interested in the data.
Another series of questions followed, in which the colonel repeated and rephrased earlier inquiries. Then came yet another set of rephrasings.
Roget kept his answers shorter and more factual the second and third times he replied to the variations on the same questions, especially since the colonel clearly wasn’t interested in knowing what Roget thought, only what he could prove.
Finally, Tian cleared his throat. “For the present you will remain on board the ZengYi. I would caution you not to speak to anyone else about the specifics of your mission. I trust you understand, Major.”
“Yes, sir.” You don’t want anyone to know what might be down there, especially if you’re going to try to destroy it.
The colonel’s image vanished.
Within moments, the hatch to the tiny comm room opened, and a Federation lieutenant stood there. “Major… we’re a bit cramped, but there’s a spare bunk in the exec’s stateroom … if you’d like to rest.”
Roget rose, picking up the pack at his feet. “I would, thank you. It’s been a long day.” But not nearly so long as those ahead of him, he feared.
The executive officer’s stateroom was all of ten meters down the main upper deck passageway. There, Roget stretched out on the narrow upper bunk but did not really sleep, lying there in a worried doze. He was more than glad to sit up when the hatch opened, but he barely remembered to keep his head down before he almost rammed it into the overhead.
“Major, Jess Uhuru,” offered the dark-skinned Federation captain. “I’m the exec here. I just wanted to let you know that the wardroom is open. We didn’t know what sort of schedule you’ve been on.”
“Thank you.” Roget swung his feet over the side of the bunk and then dropped to the deck. “I’m sorry to intrude on your space, Captain.”
“We’re happy to be able to accommodate you, sir. It’s not often that anyone gets to see an FSA officer who’s survived a hostile planet.”
“It wasn’t that hard once I landed. Their orbital shields are rough, but they’re not hostile down there.” Not yet. Roget paused. “What about the pilot of the other dropboat?”
Uhuru shook his head. “He’s sedated and restrained in sickbay. He started raving about all of us just being tools of the creatures down below.” After a moment, he asked, “Are they really alien down there?”
“They appear quite human, but they have a very different way of looking at things.” That was accurate enough. “It can be very upsetting.” Roget followed the exec out into the narrow passageway.
“Here comes the commander, sir.” Uhuru stepped hack.
A squarish major appeared in the passageway. He smiled broadly. “Major, Kiang Khuo. We’re glad to see you made it back.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry about being parked here.”
“That’s not a problem. We can handle an additional officer or two. Beyond that… let’s just say that it gets cozier than anyone would like.” The ZengYi’s commander gestured toward the open hatch to the wardroom mess, less than five meters aft from where he stood.
Roget made his way along the passage and into the officers’ wardroom, compact like everything else aboard a corvette, a space some five meters long and slightly less than four wide, with narrow chairs that barely fit the four officers already seated. He took the seat to the right of the commander, who seated himself at the head of the table. Uhuru sat across from Roget.
Khuo served himself from the platter in front of him, then nodded to Roget. “Replicated sesame stuff, but at least the galley was overhauled just before we broke orbit. Last deployment… we won’t go into that.” He shook his head.
Roget took a moderate helping of the sauced meat, then of the sticky rice. “Did you come out with the WuDing, or were you with the follow-up fleet?”
“We were here from the beginning. We were the escort on the scout-ships that did the drops. Have to say it was something watching all of you. One minute you were on the screens, and the next the gray haze swallowed you all—except the last dropboat. Poor bastard. He just exploded when he hit the gray.” Khuo looked to Roget. “Was there a trick to it?”
“I just checked the relative motion. We didn’t drop fast enough.” Roget shrugged. “Had to goose the dropboat to keep from getting run down.”
“Run down?”
“Oh … the shields are millions of chunks of grayish stuff all orbiting at pretty high speed.”
“What kind of chunks?” asked a young lieutenant at the end of the table.
“That’s all I can say about it right now,” Roget replied. “Major… you seem to have the Security types concerned,” offered Uhuru.
“They’re often concerned,” Roget replied. “That’s their job.”
“We couldn’t pick up any track of your dropboat,” said the exec. “Then you were on the screens. Did the Thomists—they are Thomists, aren’t they—somehow shield you?”
“So far as I know, they didn’t. They repaired the dropboat and launched me back on a return course.” While Tian had told Roget to say nothing, the officers of the ZengYi had already observed more than he’d said.
“How did you get so close without any trace?” pressed the young lieutenant.
“I don’t know how they accomplished that,” Roget replied. “But-”
“Lieutenant…” Commander Khuo’s voice was quiet but firm.
“They’re still analyzing the data and the materials I brought back,” Roget said. “They might offer some answers. Until they do, I suspect, I’m likely to be your guest.”
“How did you end
up in outsystem security?” asked the commander, clearly signaling a change in wardroom conversation.
“FSA decided I was the type of agent who worked better alone and on challenging projects,” Roget replied.
“I think that might equate to resourceful and expendable,” suggested the commander.
Roget had long since come to that conclusion, but he just smiled. “We do what we can.”
“That’s all any of us can.”
“What do you think will happen … with Haze?” asked the exec.
“What the fleet marshal—or anyone—least expects,” Roget replied. “I don’t know what that will be, but the Dubietans are surprising in their predictability.”
“Surprising in their predictability?” The commander raised his eyebrows.
“What they do is extremely predictable in hindsight, but unexpected in its applications. That’s all I can say.” And more than the colonel would have wished, even if Roget hadn’t revealed anything directly. He took a sip of the tea.
It wasn’t bad, but it tasted flat, especially compared to the food on Dubiety.
30
18 LAYU 6746 f. e.
Three pilots with fresh deep-space, small-craft certifications sat in the low gravity of the Belt Control operations office opposite a senior Federation Interstellar Service major. The major was speaking. Roget was one of the pilots listening intently.
“All three of you have excelled in your training. That is to be expected. Also expected, before you are dispatched to your next duty station, you have a proficiency flight. Call it a postgraduate assignment.” The senior major looked over the three pilots. “The other name for it is ‘the squirrel run.’”
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