Aurora

by Mark W. Tiedemann

  Reen pursed his lips and Mia recognized the frustration. 'I wouldn't be so quick to criticize other pilots, Captain. Your people missed a robot drone and let it get away. How much skill does that take?'

  Now the Spacer's face changed- Mia saw the sudden tension, the narrowing of eyes, and the set his mouth took. Great, she thought Reen has actually succeeded in pissing off a Spacer. Such talent is wasted here ...

  'I will bring your suggestion to the attention of my superiors, Commander," Delas said. "Excuse me."

  Before Reen could protest, the Spacer spun around and strode away, his remotes easily keeping station with him.

  Reen's lips parted in a brief rictus of frustration. A moment later, lie sighed. He looked at Mia. "What do you think?'

  "Sir?"

  Reen pointed at the row of bodies.

  "I'd like to know where the drones originated," she said- 'I understand the piloting signals weren't traced?'

  "If they were, that-gentleman-won't tell me." Reen shook his head. "Delas isn't bad, just Keresian. At least they dont mind breathing the same air as Terrans."

  "Do you think they were Spacer in origin?' Mia asked, startled at the idea.

  "You give me a good reason why they wont follow up on the one that got away."

  "We have the authority to do that on our own," Yalor said "He gave Mia an uncertain look. "Dont we?'

  "It depends on which party took the initial action," Reen said. 'They shot up the drones, ifs therefore a Keresian operation. Earth cannot usurp their primacy without due cause. Normally, this is just a formality, and permissions are automatic, but Delas is being obdurate." He shook his head. "Politics."

  "I suppose it would have been more convenient had we never gotten the Fifty Worlds involved," Mia said

  'And you know as well as I that that was impossible," Reen snapped. 'Where are you with your follow-up on Ensign Corf's arrest?'

  "I've been running down communications trees from his comm, but so far all I have is evidence of an active social life. There are three or four names I plan to follow up personally, but at this point I have nothing solid."

  "You went through his cabin?'

  "Yes, sir."

  'And you found nothing unusual?'

  "No, sir. He reads more than the average junior officer, but nothing out of the ordinary."

  "Books?'

  "On disk, sir. Technical updates and contemporary fiction."

  "Corf was originally a tug controller," Reen. said- 'An in-system traffic specialist What kind of technical updates?'

  -The bulk are applied hyperdrive texts. I checked his record, and he applied twice for drive specialist training. He apparently still maintains an interest."

  "He didn't strike me as having the aptitude for something that complex. Interesting. But nothing else?'

  Mia found herself studying Reen, looking for cues. She did it automatically, the way she had been trained and had learned as a Special Service agent on Earth- Often she did it unconsciously -until something alerted her that a problem existed

  "No, sir," she said blandly. "Nothing unusual."

  Reen frowned- "Do your follow-ups then, and come see me in six hours. I'm going to try to clear up this territorial misunderstanding."

  "Yes, Sir."

  Reen gave a sharp nod and walked off.

  "Did I miss something just now?' Yalor asked

  "If you did, you're not the only one." Mia watched Reen's retreating form. 'Are you rated on atmospheric piloting?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact."

  "Keep yourself unoccupied for the next twelve hours."

  Mia wrinkled her nose. The smell from the bodies was beginning to be manifest.

  The planetary blockade ring was comprised of nearly thirty stations and over two hundred ships of various sizes. Smaller stations linked together by an array of umbilicals. Access around the entire perimeter was easier by shuttle, though traffic was kept to a minimum for security reasons.

  Mia made her way through two stations before entering the precincts of the materiel and distribution port that serviced this limb of the ring. Here shipments came in from one of the huge supply stations sitting further out, along the system perimeter, which contained fewer but larger stations and nearly a thousand ships from the various polities represented in the embargo. There were six of these supply ports along the planetary ring; given the complex web of interconnections, it proved nearly impossible to police every transaction, delivery, and routing order. Early in her tour here, she suggested borrowing an RI from the Theians to oversee distribution and had nearly found herself transferred off the blockade as a result.

  She passed through three inspection nodes on the way to the quarter-master's office. Human officers ran scanners over packages, checked tracking numbers, in one instance opened a large container to physically inspect the contents. As large as the facility was, it always seemed cramped- In-transit items piled on shelves, floated in null-.g fields, or waited on the decks. The blockade now contained nearly forty-five thousand people in the planetary ring alone. The last time she had checked, another seventy thousand served on the outer, system ring. For the territory they policed, it seemed a paltry force an entire solar system. But the material requirements of over one hundred and ten thousand human beings, sustained in space tight years from their homeworlds, was an enormous logistical problem. Exacerbated by the contraband traffic, it grew to unmanageable proportions. Simply, it could not be done. The best internal security had managed to do was to slow the illicit movement of proscribed goods through the very forces that were here to prevent it in the first place.

  Frustration had become a constant background emotional noise Mia was still trying to team to live with.

  She rapped on Quartermaster Teg Sturlin's door. A few seconds later, the hatch slid open and she stepped into a space relatively uncluttered and deceptively spacious.

  "Daventri," Sturlin said with a small smile. "Please tell me you've come to share a glass and talk about retirement."

  Mia returned the smile. Teg Sturlin was a round-faced, small-eyed woman who seemed to make it a point never to wear a uniform property. She was neat, almost fastidious, but a collar would always be open or a jacket missing a belt out of one loop, cuffs rolled a few centimeters too far up the forearms. It was a pose, a conscious rejection of protocol that bordered on insolence.

  Her office was also impossibly tidy for the job she held- To be sure, file disks stacked on her desk, boxes containing questionable items waited for her attention on a long countertop, three datum screens showed a changing array of tasks requiring decisions, and a jacket lay across the back of her chair. '7112ine, were everywhere, manifestations of her position, but none of it simply piled up. Everything looked orderly. Teg Sturlin, it said, is in control.

  'The glass would be good," Mia said- "Nonalcoholic."

  "Oh~" Sturlin groaned in mock disappointment She went to a samovar and filled a tall, narrow glass with tea. "Duty, I suppose, prevents a proper debauch?'

  I may be very busy very soon." She took a sip. "Mmm. What is this?'

  "Black currant Something new. I added a touch of mint to the ice cubes. Heresy, really, it ought to be hot tea." she

  perched on the edge of her desk. "So this is business?'

  Mia pulled one of the paper books from her valise and handed it to Sturlin. "if I had wanted this, how hard would it be to get it here r

  Sturlin's eyes widened- "Where did you get it in the first place? Do you have any idea how costly these can be?'

  "No, I don't. That's why I'm asking."

  Almost reverently, Sturlin opened the cover. 'This is nearly three thousand years old.

  Mia started- "That?'

  "Hmm? 0h, no, not the physical item." Sturlin laughed- "No, I shouldn't say so. This is a facsimile. I meant the novel itself This volume..." She turned pages, rubbed one between thumb and middle finger, brought the book up to her nose, turned it over, peered down the spine from above. "Maybe three hun
dred years old. Physically, we can make one now that will survive the Omega Point Well, not really, but you take my meaning. But it's a minority taste, a fetish almost I imagine for some people it actually is a fetish. Some of these ancients wrote about sex so much more ricbly then. I suppose it was the guilt."

  'Teg. The vector?'

  "Oh, sorry. Yes, I suppose it could be gotten out here. Even likely it was from a Spacer."

  "I don't think so. I found four of those. One of them had a book dealer imprint: Omne Mundi Complurium, Antiquities, Lyzig."

  I know of it." She looked up with a quick frown. -I thought the shop in Lyzig had closed down, though."

  maybe it was purchased a while back. What would it cost, what would it take?'

  "If someone had brought this with them in their personal items, it would be in the log." She closed the book and went around to her chair. "Have to list everything we bring and this would be just a bit too difficult to hide, considering how little personal kit we're allowed." She began entering commands on her desk datum. A fourth screen slid up. I shouldn't think there would be many people who'd be willing to give up space for something like this when you can access the contents through the public datum..."

  'Try Ensign Corf."

  After a moment, Sturlin shook her head- "No, not him. What are the other the title's'

  Mia told her and waited, sipping her oddly-flavored tea while Sturlin conducted her search.

  "Well, there are eighty-three people who brought actual bound books with them to the blockade."

  "Really. That many?'

  "I'm surprised myself. Almost all of them are senior staff."

  'Anyone I should be interested in?'

  "Possibly. Probably. The thing is, I don't see those titles listed in any of their personal kits. One-Captain Gerigel of the Verbator-has a different Dickens, but. . ."

  "Okay, any of them likely to buy through the black market?'

  "You mean smuggle one in? Why? It would be cheaper to simply have them shipped in legitimately. Let me backtrack and see if I can find out from the bookdealer if any shipments came to us..."

  'That's an expensive call."

  "Yes, it is. But I can do it without attracting attention. That's why you brought this to me, true?'

  "Something along those lines."

  Sturlin grinned, nodding. "You'll return the favor one day. When do you need to know?'

  "Now."

  "Well, then." She began entering commands again. 'This may take a bit longer." She leaned back. "I dont see books come through undeclared very often. Rare as it is, it should be fairly easy to track."

  "Do you ever see them?'

  'As contraband?' Sturlin shook her head- "I've seen wine, whiskey, musical instruments once or twice, every description of necessity, clothes, even aphrodisiacs from time to time, but never bound books. Even the disks, mostly they'll be technical works, how-to texts, a few science texts." She picked up the book Mia had brought and ran her hand over the cover. never this.,,

  "From the way you're treating it, I might suspect you're lying."

  Sturlin looked startled- "That's in jest, isn't it? I'm a quarter master, Agent Daventri. I take that seriously."

  'I'm sorry."

  Sturlin regarded her stonily for another few seconds, then shrugged. "it must be frustrating for you. It is for me." She sighed. "I grew up with a houseful of books like this. My parents were antiquarians. My father belonged to the Church of Organic Sapiens."

  -That must have been awkward when you joined the service."

  "You have no idea. I might as well have told them I was emigrating to Solaria. I could never see why the two worlds couldn't coexist. But I've come to understand them since coming out here."

  "Really? Tell me, then. I still have a hard time reconciling having Spacer friends with being a Ten-an."

  "Have you been forced by circumstances to choose?'

  "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

  'Assume you meet a Spacer with whom you want to form a bond- Where do you live? His world or yours? Whose friends do you give up? Believe me, you'd have to choose. The question is, which half of these choices is the more important? Which would make you less by leaving behind and which would hann you the least by keeping'

  "It wouldn't be that either/ or."

  "You think not? Well, perhaps. Some people are strong enough or devoted enough or lucky enough not to have to give up what they dont want But what -if what you want changes? If who you are is defined partly or largely by your wants, then are you different if they change?'

  "Of course."

  "Then what you don't want would have the same effect."

  "That follows, I guess."

  "So if you say, 'I don't want to live this way, or, I don't wish to live without these things,' then you have changed who you are from when those wants didn't matter. It becomes then a matter of who you want to be. "

  Sturlin was leaning forward, her face intent. Mia could almost feel tier intensity. This was a subject very close to Sturlin.

  'All right," Mia said.

  'And if what you want to be is at odds with those you live with, divergent from what they want you to be, then you have to choose."

  "But the things themselves shouldn't be in conflict."

  'Things are metaphors, Mia. They represent ideas. If you say, 'I want to be a Terran, that means a certain set of ideas. One of which is that you live without robots. If you say, 'I want to live with robots,' then you've chosen something which says that you're not Ten-an."

  'Then the definition of Terran is at fault."

  Sturlin smiled broadly. 'And if you change that, then you change everything. You make everyone else give something up in order that you be able to give nothing up. Consequently, you lose the very thing you thought you were preserving, because it doesn't exist anymore."

  "That's sophistry."

  "Contradict me." Sturlin laughed- "My parents accepted a set of limitations as part of their concept of who they were. I wanted things that didn't fit within those boundaries. I couldn't be like them anymore. By accepting me, they had to accept, at least in principle, that I had made choices that were somehow right. They weren't going to do that. I didn't want them to hate me. The best thing for us all was for me to leave all that they were behind."

  "Was that possible?'

  "I'm not sure. If not, then Spacers are in some sense still Terrans. Do you know any Terran, even a liberal one, who accepts that idea?'

  "No."

  Sturlin held out a hand as if to say, "So there."

  "Spacers are different," Sturlin added then. "I'm not even sure they know ho w different they are . . .- She glanced at her screen. 'Ah. I'm getting a reply." She leaned toward the screen, then nodded slowly. "The books were purchased six months ago by a buyer in Petrabor. Let me see if there's an associated tree with any of our bibliophiles ... hmmm ... three possibles, none of them senior staff. Corf is not one of them."

  "Since they got on the station without anyone finding them. . ."

  Sturlin glanced at her, scowling. "Finding the recipient could be very difficult There's some possibilities. Six months ago, they were on Earth. There's a window to look through, at least Here are the three officers who have done business with that bookseller in the past. I'll see if I can link the buyer in Petrabor to any of our already neutralized freelance importers."

  Mia took the slip of paper from Sturlin. In her precise hand, Sturlin had written them out. Sometimes, they both knew, writing things down gave the best security.

  'Thanks. Let me know as soon as you find anything more."

  "I will. "

  Mia finished her tea and set the glass by the samovar. She hesitated at the door.

  "So, what have you become?' she asked.

  "I don't know yet," Sturlin said- "I'm still choosing."

  The three names did not mean anything to Mia until she matched them against Corf's comm togs. One came up regularly, a Lt. Illen Jons. Mia pulled up her
file.

  Lt. Jons was a liaison officer to the Keresian contingent Her counterpart was a Commander Togla Ulson, aide to the Keresian fleet commander, Commodore Palis.

  Mia opened several of the communications between Corf and Jons, wondering what the Terran Keresian liaison might have to talk to essentially a glorified stores clerk.

  Books. Mia found lists of titles. Jons was checking on shipments of books and Corf was assuring her that, though the shipments were late, they were indeed on their way. Further down the stack of comms were confirmations of deliveries, new requests, notes of thanks.

  Mia sat back. Books ... ?