by Amy Thomson
Morgan tossed a ring of keys to the attendant. “Trieste, I think, tell Mildn to send me a red Gavotte this time. And call Ian and tell him to meet us “at the Erdbeere.”
“That way,” he told Analin, gesturing at a door. They went through the door to another garage, and then through a maze of hallways, garages, and basements, emerging finally in the lobby of a seedy apartment building. They left the building, and got into a waiting cab.
“What do you need?” he asked her, as they settled back into the cab.
“Traceless shielding on this comm unit for a few days.”
“Why not get another number?”
“I’m expecting an important call on it tomorrow evening.”
He nodded. “We’ll forward it through one of our tracer mazes. It’ll look like you’re calling from Brazil.”
“I also need a dossier on General Burnham, security head of the Space Service, including as much classified material about her connections with the CCD as you can find. And a good night’s sleep somewhere safe.”
“O.K.,” Morgan said, “but it will cost you.”
“I know. How much?”
“Fifteen thousand Swiss credits.”
Analin shook her head. “Too much. Five thousand.”
“May I remind you that you’re in no position to bargain. Burnham’s a difficult target.”
“I thought you were a professional,” Analin said, lifting her chin defiantly. She didn’t have fifteen thousand credits. Eleven would wipe her out, but this story would earn it back several times over.
“One of the best,” he said. “That’s what you’re paying for. Twelve thousand.”
“Six.”
’Ten.”
“Seven.”
’This problem intrigues me. I’ll go as low as eight and a half.”
“Eight and a half,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation. It was a good price, for what he was offering, but it would not do to appear too eager. “But I get one more follow-up report.”
“All right,” he said. They linked wrist comps, typed in their access codes, and completed the transaction. The money would remain in escrow until Analin confirmed that the work had been done.
The deal made, Morgan leaned forward and said something in Swiss to the driver about a hotel. The cab turned and sped to an anonymous-looking pension.
“I’ll be back in eight hours with a preliminary report,” Morgan told her when she was safely in her room. “Sleep well.”
Analin nodded. As soon as he was gone, she shucked her clothes, showered, climbed into bed, and let sleep take her.
She was awakened by a knock on the door. Groggily, she got up, shrugged on the rumpled clothes she’d cast off the night before, and peered out the security peephole. It was Morgan, carrying a paper bag and a fat manila envelope.
She opened the door.
“Breakfast, and your report, Ms. Goudrian. May I say that it is utterly fascinating reading?” Morgan announced as he strode in. He set the paper bag down on the table and took out a breakfast pie and a large container of coffee. The smell of hot pastry made Analin’s mouth water. It had been twelve hours since her last meal. She glanced from the envelope to the breakfast pie and coffee, torn between hunger and her desire to read the report.
“I’ll summarize the contents of the report while you eat,” Morgan said. “Your General Burnham is a most interesting person. She’s a hard-line Expansionist, and a professional paranoid. She’s part of a clique of highly placed Expansionists in the Space Service. Burnham has official ties to HumanSpace, and the Terraforming Foundation. Unofficially, she has ties to several pronatalist groups including a couple with terrorist leanings.”
Analin nodded. “And her ties to the CCD?” she asked, taking another bite of breakfast.
“There’s a Dr. Koro, who heads the Expansionist clique at the CCD. Their affiliations have a significant overlap. Koro’s comm logs show a significant increase in calls from Burnham over the last two months, beginning about the time the Homa Darabi Maru came through the jump gate.”
“I see.” Analin pushed aside her food and flipped through the report. There was a lot there; it would take a couple of hours to study it.
“Your inquiries have stirred up a hornet’s nest,” Morgan told her. “Burnham’s people are looking for you.”
Analin shrugged. “That’s why I’m here. Are they coming close?”
“You ditched them in Dijon. It’ll take them a while to go through the train station’s security-camera files. By tomorrow, they’ll know you came to Bern.
“By tomorrow, I’ll be somewhere else,” Analin said. “I’ve done this sort of thing before.” She held out her wrist comp to signal the completion of their transaction.
But before she left, she needed to start work on the article she would post on the Web. She went over Burn-ham’s dossier, pulling out the evidence she needed. Then she dove back into the net, digging out more information on the CCD and Dr. Koro. All she needed were a few more quotes from Juna and Moki and she would be ready to file. She shook her head, marveling at the stroke of good fortune that had moved Juna to contact her instead of some other net reporter.
Juna sat back, mulling over what Analin had just told them.
“Analin, why don’t the Expansionists like us?” Moki asked.
“They have nothing against you or Ukatonen specifically,” Analin told him. “They’re isolationists, and the idea of aliens out there scares them. They want the universe to themselves.”
“But why are they afraid of us?” Moki asked.
“Because you’re not human,” Juna explained. “Because you’re different.” She turned back to the comm screen. “What are the Expansionists saying about the Tendu?” she asked Analin.
“About what you would expect. The Tendu are dangerous, and they may be diseased. They’re also spreading horror stories about how the Tendu turned you into something grotesque and deformed.”
“Hasn’t the Survey let them know that Ukatonen changed me back?” Juna asked.
“The Survey hasn’t said much at all about you or the Tendu, aside from the fact that you’re here and that you’re in quarantine.”
“This whole thing is so silly,” Juna complained. “The Tendu aren’t dangerous. In fact, they can help us a great deal. Their skill at healing can advance our own medical knowledge. Their knowledge of ecosystems could help us restore Earth’s environment and speed up the terraform-ing of Mars and Terra Nova. With their help, we could explore living worlds without an environment suit, perhaps even colonize them. But first, the Tendu and humanity need to get to know each other, to learn what we can do for each other. We can’t accomplish that trapped up here in quarantine.”
Analin smiled. “That was well said, Juna. May I quote you on that?”
Juna shrugged, embarrassed and flattered. “Sure, if it will help you get us out of here.”
“I hope so,” Analin said. “I should have my article finished and on-line in a few more hours.”
Juna swallowed, her throat suddenly dry with nervousness. This had passed beyond her control now. “Oh,” she managed to say.
Analin leaned forward, toward the comm screen. “Juna, I’m on your side. They’re illegally holding you prisoner. Besides, I’m looking forward to that exclusive interview. I can’t get that until you’re off that ship. There are no guarantees that what I write will spring you, but at the very least it should cause a major scandal. Burnham and the others will be too busy covering their tracks to keep you and the Tendu bottled up much longer.”
Juna felt hopeful for the first time in weeks. “Thank you, Analin. I know you’ll do yoor best.”
Analin nodded, suddenly shy. “Check this address in two hours. I’ll have a copy of the story there for you to download. The article should be on the net in four hours.”
“Good luck,” Juna said.
“Thanks,” Analin replied.
Analin was as good as her word. The file was waiting
for Juna two hours later.
“Dear Juna and Moki,” it began.
“Here is the story. I hope it helps spring you. I’m sorry I’m not available for you to talk to. Given the sensitivity of this news, I think it’s better for me to be a moving target for a few days. Good luck!— Analin Goudrian”
Aliens Held Hostage to Expansionist Paranoia
INN-Nederlands—Sources within the Survey administration say that General Burnham and a clique of Expansionists in high positions are responsible for the prolonged quarantine of the Tendu on board the Homa Darabi Mam, despite the fact that there is no apparent reason to keep them there.
According to Dr. Juna Saari, the Survey researcher who first discovered the Tendu, none of the crew has been sick since the Tendu came on board. This is corroborated by the Chief Medical Officer of the Homa Darabi Maru, Dr. Louise Caisson, who previously served as a researcher at the Center for Contagious Diseases on Luna.
Despite their freedom from contagious diseases, the Tendu’s health has been impacted by the prolonged quarantine.
“The Tendu are suffering from what they refer to as greensickness,” Dr. Saari said, during a recent interview. “Essentially, it’s a form of depression caused by their isolation in the artificial setting of this spaceship. The Tendu need a natural environment. Without it they become depressed and stop eating. Although greensickness is not contagious, it has made the Tendu severely ill, and could even kill them. Ukatonen has been so severely affected that he has gone into a coma.”
The CCD confirms that there has been no illness among the crew of the Homa Darabi Maru. When asked why the entire crew remained confined, the CCD and the Survey both said that “significant security concerns prevent the release of the passengers and crew of the Homa Darabi Maru from quarantine.”
General Alice Burnham, an arch-conservative Expansionist, has the command authority to release the Tendu and the crew of the ship from quarantine. However, the Expansionists have taken a very strong stand against the Tendu, and sources within the Survey accuse General Burnham of keeping the Tendu in quarantine for political reasons. General Burnham refused to comment on whether her political opinions have influenced her decision to keep the Tendu in quarantine. When asked when the Tendu and the crew of the Homa Darabi Maru would be released, the general said, “That is entirely up to Dr. Koro of the CCD. When he approves a release from quarantine, then I will act upon it.”
Dr. Koro, who could not be reached for comment, is also involved in a number of Expansionist organizations. He is on the board of directors of the Space Frontiers Foundation, and is a member of Human-Space, as well as the Terraforming Foundation.
According to Dr. Saari, “The Tendu aren’t dangerous. In fact, they can help us a great deal. Their skill at healing can advance our own medical knowledge. Their knowledge of ecosystems could help us restore Earth’s environment and speed up the terraforming of Mars and Terra Nova. With their help, we could explore living worlds without an environment suit, perhaps even colonize them. But first, the Tendu and humanity need to get to know each other, to learn what we can do for each other* We can’t accomplish that trapped up here in quarantine.”
The Interstellar Space Explorers and Workers Union said that they had received several appeals from the crew of the Homa Darabi Maru, but that Survey security had assured them the quarantine was necessary. “If these allegations are true, then the union will have no choice but to take quick and decisive action against the Survey,” said Mark Manning, president of ISEWU.
“Well,” Juna commented, “I think it’s a good article.”
“I don’t understand, siti,” Moki said. “Why can General Burnham keep us here?”
“Because the people in charge gave her the authority to do so, bai. If we’re lucky, this article will embarrass her so much that she has to release us.”
“Will she decide to die?” Moki asked.
“No, bai, she’s not an enkar.”
“Then why is she running things?”
“Because the people in charge trusted her to do a good job.”
“Are they enkar? Will they die?”
“No bai. It doesn’t work like that here.”
Juna had tried several times to explain human politics and the concept of democracy to the Tendu, but they always ended up bewildered. “All the humans get together and decide who will run things. This process is known as an election.”
“But none of them are enkar?”
“No, bai. We have no enkar. If they do a bad job, we don’t elect them again.”
Moki shook his head. “How can you trust them?”
Juna shrugged. “We don’t, bai. We watch them all the time, to make sure they don’t make mistakes. Analin is one of the people whose atwa it is to watch our leaders, and to tell us when a mistake is made. That is why she is helping us now.”
“It seems like a bad way to run things.”
“Perhaps, bai, but it works for us.”
“Dr. Saari, I just received an irate call from General Burn-ham’s office. They claim that you breached security. There’s also been an inquiry from the union, based on statements that they claim you made. Would you please explain this?” Commander Sussman said.
Juna handed her a printout of Analin’s article. “This will explain everything, Commander.”
The commander read the article, her face carefully impassive.
“My,” she said when she was finished. She stood, both hands resting on her desk, her blue eyes fixed on Juna. “What the hell were you thinking of, Dr. Saari?”
“You wanted me to figure out some way of getting us off this ship,” Juna said. “This is what I came up with.”
“You defined that suggestion pretty broadly.”
“Yes, ma’am, I did.”
“I’m going to log an official reprimand on your record. By rights, I should have you thrown in the brig, but given the circumstances I’d say that being stuck in quarantine is discipline enough.”
“Yes, ma’am. I apologize, ma’am.”
“You’ve taken an awful risk. You know that you could wind up court-martialed for this?”
“Yes, ma’am, I know that. And, Commander Sussman, I want to formally state that this was entirely my own idea. No one on board helped me in any way.”
“Of course,” the commander said skeptically. “However, that will not save my ass or the ass of anyone who was supposed to have the power to stop you. I don’t know if you thought of that before you launched this crazy scheme of yours.”
Juna stared at the floor, her face hot with shame. “No, ma’am, I did not.”
“Thank you, Dr. Saari. That is all I have to say to you at this time,” Commander Sussman said stiffly. “Dismissed.”
The Survey shut down all the comm channels. Only the commander could call out or receive calls. Morale plummeted. Some of the crew began pointedly avoiding Juna and Moki.
Five days later, Commander Sussman called a general meeting of the entire crew.
“Due to the controversy surrounding the recent news report about the quarantine, the union has expressed concerns about conditions aboard ship,” she began, carefully avoiding Juna’s gaze. “An inspection team from the union will be coming aboard tomorrow. We are expected to assist them in their investigation.”
A murmur of excitement passed through the assembled crew. Juna’s heart soared like a white-winged bird. Analin had come through for them. This was their chance to get out of quarantine!
Sussman waited until the murmuring died down. “We’ve been through some pretty difficult times these past few weeks. I’m sure many of you have statements to make to the union representatives. I want to remind you that all claims made to the union must be provable. Rumors and opinions will only weaken our case. If any of you have any formal protests to file, please get your proof ready to present.
“I want to thank all of you for your very hard work. The ship looks as if it was newly commissioned. While I haven’t done any i
nspection of your personal quarters, I expect they’ll look as good as the rest of the ship.”
The crew smiled good-naturedly at the commander’s veiled order.
“If any of you have any questions about how to file a protest, you should ask your union shop-stewards. Any other questions should be directed to your staff officers. Thank you all very much for your patience and hard work during this quarantine. I’m proud of you.” She gave them a stiffly correct military salute. “Dismissed.”
As Juna filed out with Moki, Dr. Caisson intercepted her.
“The commander would like a word with you in her office, if you have a moment.”
“Thank you, Doctor, please tell her that I will be there.”
Commander Sussman stood as Juna came into her office. “Congratulations, Dr. Saari. That article stirred up quite a controversy. I’ve been catching all kinds of official hell for this.” The commander frowned ruefully.
“I’m sorry,” Juna apologized.
“I’m not,” Commander Sussman said bluntly. “This is my ship and my crew, and we’ve been treated very badly for the sake of the Expansionists’ political convenience. This quarantine was absolutely inexcusable. I hope the union kicks the Survey’s ass.” She paused, smiling ironically. “I didn’t invite you here for a tirade, Doctor. I wanted to apologize for losing my temper last week.”
Juna shrugged. “I’m sorry you were involved. I took an inexcusable risk with you and your crew.”
“Well, it got results,” Sussman admitted. “Have you given any thought to what you’re going to say to the union officials?”
“I don’t really know what they’re going to ask,” Juna replied.
“They’re probably going to focus much of their attention on you and the aliens. Legally, I can’t advise you on what to say, but I do urge you to be prepared to make the best case you can. If this doesn’t work— ”
