Singing the Dogstar Blues

by Alison Goodman

  The interesting goss was over. I knocked on the door just as Hartpury pulled it wide open. Well timed.

  ‘Ah, Joss. I’ll be right with you.’ She turned to Lindon. ‘Thanks for dropping by. I’ll see you in the hook-up for the funding committee.’

  I stepped aside as Lindon neatly manoeuvred through the door. He nodded to me.

  ‘Aaronson. Congratulations on your new partnership.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Goodbye, Janeen. And don’t forget that cross-ref.’

  He waved, turning his upper body towards the elevators. The mech-legs swivelled a few seconds later. I didn’t know about Hartpury, but I wasn’t going to forget the cross-ref. Dirt on Camden-Stone was too good to pass up.

  Hartpury watched Lindon walk stiffly down the corridor. She frowned, massaging the bridge of her nose in small hard circles that left the skin red.

  ‘Are you ready to move in to your quarters?’ she asked.

  ‘Can’t wait.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s get going.’

  Home Sweet Home

  First year time-jumpers are usually quartered in the old Janet Clarke Hall. There’re six units, one for each pair. The units are pretty basic: two bedrooms, a shared living room and a study area complete with consoles and VR hoods. Hartpury and I were headed in the opposite direction.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked. ‘JC Hall’s over there.’

  I skipped two steps to keep up with her.

  ‘Tell me, how do you really feel about all of this?’ She swept her arm around, indicating the demonstrators just visible at the gates.

  Hartpury was going into psych mode. I hated it when she tried to analyse me. I thought she had given up after I scored 100 per cent on her ESP tests. She still doesn’t know how I did it.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘How do you feel about it? Share your innermost feelings.’ I clutched my hands together over my heart.

  I was halfway up the ramp before I realised Hartpury wasn’t beside me anymore. I swung my duffel onto my other shoulder and backtracked. She had stopped walking.

  ‘Be serious, Joss,’ she said, her hands on her hips. ‘You’ve been dumped in the middle of a diplomatic nightmare. The next couple of months, maybe even years, are going to be tough. Look at those demonstrators.’

  We both turned towards the gates where the demonstrators were hanging a banner. Only half of it was up, but it was obvious what it said: Aliens Go Home. Was Suka somewhere in that crowd, watching and planning her hit?

  ‘That’s not going to blow over tomorrow,’ Hartpury said. ‘There’s even a backlash within the university. A lot of staff and students aren’t happy with the decision to accept Mavkel.’

  ‘Yeah, including our illustrious leader,’ I said.

  ‘Where did you get that idea? Professor Camden-Stone is working hard to make this whole thing a success. It’s a pig of a job, too.’

  ‘He’s trying to get me to quit the partnership.’

  ‘He’s probably just worried for your safety. We all are.’ She bent forward, bringing her mouth close to my ear. ‘There’s been threats against Mavkel, you know. We nearly didn’t quarter you together. The professor didn’t want to put you at risk. But we’ve decided you would lose too much bonding, so you’re both being quartered in P3.’

  P3 was the state-of-the-art organic high security building for visiting VIPs who were considered ‘at-risk’. Its design brief was ‘no one’s getting into this sucker without clearance’.

  Hartpury leaned back, obviously pleased with the solution.

  The pleasure was all hers. The last place I wanted to be quartered was P3.

  ‘I don’t want to live there. It’ll be like living in a cage,’ I said. How was I going to operate? Every move I made would be recorded by the building. I’d heard it even had monitoring equipment down the toilet.

  ‘It’s the best way to keep you both safe. It’s even been modified for Mavkel. Look, maybe all of this will just blow over in a few weeks. We could move you to JC then. But for now this is the committee’s decision.’

  We started walking again. Hartpury was staring ahead, the stripe of red across the bridge of her nose made it look even bigger than normal. She had a huge nose, with nostrils the size of real-coins. Why didn’t she have it fixed? It wouldn’t cost too much and everything else about her was okay. Maybe she was an anti-interventionist. No pills, no surgery, no rejuvs. Natural all the way. So far, I’ve only had one thing fixed. It was when I was born. I had some kind of skin tags on my eyes, almost like a second lid. Ingrid got her surgeon to remove them. She can’t stand imperfections like that.

  The ramp we were walking up intersected the university’s central avenue. As we reached the top, P3 came into view. It was an armadillo of a building: armoured and squat with an entrance annexe that looked like a snout.

  ‘Your new home,’ Hartpury said.

  P3 was definitely going to be a problem. But, as Lenny often says, don’t panic till you get all the facts. I’d have to check out this so-called high security building and see if a small rat like me could get around the monitoring systems.

  Lenny also says you should only ask a question if you already know the answer. That way you find out what the other person knows. He pinched the idea out of an old spy novel and swears it’s how he keeps ahead of the game.

  ‘When is Mavkel due back?’ I asked.

  ‘It should be back tomorrow night,’ Hartpury said.

  So Hartpury was in the know and she was telling me the truth. So far.

  She asked for the time from her armscreen.

  ‘Damn, we’re running late. That security guy is waiting to log your P3 clearance. We better hurry.’

  Major Donaldson-Hono was waiting for us in the security office next to P3’s snout. He hustled us over to the console behind the counter, ignoring Hartpury’s apologies.

  You could tell Donaldson-Hono loved his job. He loved his little gold-plated insignia, adored his master coder and got a hard-on when he thought of security breaches. He wasn’t absolutely sold on the idea of giving me security clearance. It was written all over his fashionably altered face. He’d gone for that square action-hero look, but they’d botched the nose. Too flat. Maybe that was why Hartpury hadn’t gone under the laser.

  ‘Aaronson, I hope you realise a Code Green clearance is a big responsibility,’ Donaldson-Hono said.

  ‘It’s my constant thought.’

  Hartpury nudged me, frowning.

  ‘P3 has a double-check security lock. First, a retina scan then a codekey, like this.’ Donaldson-Hono pulled back his sleeve to show a thin band of memory-metal, the stuff that shrinks to fit you.

  ‘We’ve found that these used together are the best security. Especially when you have to be scanned to leave the building as well as enter it. P3 is as hard to get in and out of as the time-jumping labs.’ He slapped his hands together. ‘Righto, let’s get down to business.’

  He handed me the eyepiece of a retina scanner.

  ‘Place your eye on that and stay still. Don’t blink.’

  I positioned the scanner against my eye. This whole security setup was a nightmare come true. Retina locks were practically impossible to bypass. My only hope was to hire a spyder to sneak into the security program and change my clearance. It would have to be an A-grade spyder. Someone who could breach defence programs and slide out without a trace. Lenny would know how to get in contact with the best.

  My eye was watering by the time the computer accepted my scan. Donaldson-Hono pushed a wrist-band into a slot then punched up my details.

  ‘I’m cross referencing this wrist-band to your retina scan and specifying your clearance. That is, entrance, exit and full use of facilities in the Ledbetter suite.’

  The Ledbetter suite? Was it named after Damien Ledbetter, the artist? I liked his stuff. Ingrid bought one of his hard-copy originals when he had his first exhibition. She was in her ‘cultural enlightenment phase’ and made me go thro
ugh the virt-gallery with her. She even tried to get me into the spirit of things by buying the picture I liked, although she never hung it.

  The wrist-band clicked out of the slot and Donaldson-Hono handed it to me. I slid it over my wrist and it shrank to a comfortable fit.

  ‘Let me guess,’ I said, ‘this will only come off if I die.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. If you want to remove it all you have to do is report to the duty officer and run it over this scan.’ He pointed to a box on the desk. ‘Of course, it can also be removed if someone hacks off your hand.’

  Great.

  Then a truly horrible thought hit me. ‘Does this thing have an inbuilt tracker?’

  ‘No, do you want one?’ He laughed at his own joke, then cleared his throat, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. ‘Only VIPs have trackers. It’s too expensive to fit them into all the mem-met bands. Well, that’s you done.’

  He picked up a chunkier wrist-band, scanned it, then gave it to Hartpury.

  ‘Doctor, here’s your visitor’s band.’

  Hartpury clicked it around her wrist. It was just a heavy bracelet with a regular snap lock. It didn’t look like it needed to be scanned off like mine.

  ‘If you want visitors, Aaronson, they’ll have to be logged in at this office to get one of these bands,’ Donaldson-Hono said.

  I nodded. He motioned for me to step up to the computer.

  ‘We have to voice and vid record your understanding and agreement to P3 regulations. Are you ready?’

  He positioned the screen to frame both of us, straightened his collar then started his spiel.

  ‘Cadet Joss Aaronson is hereby cleared for entrance and use of the Ledbetter suite on the ground floor of building P3.’

  He turned to me.

  ‘Cadet Aaronson, you do not have clearance to access any floor above the ground floor. Any attempt to access these floors will result in a security breach. Security measures designed to disable intruders may be used against you. Do you, Cadet Joss Aaronson, understand and agree to comply with these conditions and warnings?’

  ‘I do.’

  I felt like I was getting married or something.

  Donaldson-Hono suddenly relaxed his official pose and logged out of the computer.

  ‘Have you ever heard of a neuro-needle?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. He smiled and picked up the scan eyepiece, pushing it back into its protective covering.

  ‘Level two is bristling with them. Take my advice, stay in your designated areas. It takes about six months to get over a needle. Complete paralysis.’

  ‘Thank you, Major,’ Hartpury said. ‘I’m sure the cadet is not intending to breach any security arrangements. I take it her clearance is on-line now?’

  ‘Of course,’ Donaldson-Hono said.

  Hartpury and I checked through the security entrance into the foyer of P3. The whole place was black marble: the walls, the floor, even the reception desk. The only door was the one we had just walked through. There were no corridors or lifts. Just four plain black marble walls and one door. Lenny would have freaked. He never goes anywhere without at least two exits available for a quick getaway.

  We walked up to the desk. The security guy nodded to us.

  ‘Good morning, Doctor.’

  ‘Hello, Sergeant. This is Cadet Aaronson. She’s quartered here.’

  The sergeant looked me over. I looked back. Okay, if you like severe crew cuts and no lips. I smiled and leaned against the desk. Was this stuff real marble? I tapped it with a fingernail. It wasn’t. Maybe they’d skimped on a few other areas too.

  ‘Joss, this is Sergeant Vaughn. He’s on day duty,’ Hartpury said.

  ‘How’s it hanging, Sarge?’

  His eyes didn’t even flicker, the sign of a great poker player. Maybe he’d join one of my games. Hartpury was frowning again. She edged me towards the back wall.

  ‘Your quarters are up the corridor,’ she said.

  All I saw was a black marble wall.

  ‘What corridor?’ I asked.

  ‘Wait.’

  The wall shimmered then broke up, dropping away to show a corridor. It was imaginatively decorated in black marble.

  ‘Outrageous,’ I said. ‘How does it work?’

  ‘The black marble is really a virtual wall that hides an energy grid,’ Hartpury said. ‘If you try and walk though it without clearance, it’ll give you an electric shock. That band you’re wearing turns off any energy grid that you’re cleared to access.’

  ‘That’s comforting.’

  ‘It’s kind of like one of those mazes they used to use in psychology experiments,’ she said.

  Yeah, and I’m the rat.

  We walked down the corridor. A red line of light stretched along the floor next to each wall. I stopped to look.

  ‘Don’t go over the line,’ Hartpury warned.

  I jumped back.

  ‘That’s the safety limit for the energy grid,’ she said. ‘Remember, those walls aren’t real. There’re corridors and suites behind them.’

  I stared at the wall. Was that the faint outline of a door or was I just imagining it? Lenny says you should never take anyone’s word for anything. They could be bluffing. I reached across the line. An alarm beeped, but nothing else happened. Then my hand touched the wall.

  I woke up flat on my back with my head in Hartpury’s lap. Vaughn was leaning over me saying it served me right.

  ‘It’s all right, Joss, you were only out for about a minute. Do you need a medic?’ Hartpury asked.

  I shook my head. All I felt was a slight zinging in my fingertips and toes.

  ‘That was a stupid thing to do,’ she said. ‘You could have been seriously hurt.’

  ‘No, it can’t do any serious damage. It’s a low voltage,’ Vaughn said.

  Hartpury glared at him. ‘Next time you might try believing me,’ she said, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

  Vaughn offered me a hand up and hauled me to my feet. He must have had some kind of a master-band because all of the virtual walls in the corridor had dropped away. I could now see doors and other corridor openings, all safari-suit beige.

  ‘Since you’re okay, I’ll go back to my post. Try and stay away from the walls,’ Vaughn said, his face carefully bland. The man was definitely on my poker list.

  He walked towards the foyer, punching keys on his wrist pad. The black virtual walls re-formed.

  I picked up my duffel and followed Hartpury in the opposite direction, keeping well away from the red lines. A second corridor opened up and we obediently turned into it like good little rats. A part of the left wall disappeared and the door to the Ledbetter suite became visible.

  ‘Your wrist-band unlocks it,’ Hartpury said.

  I waved my wrist across the lighted panel. The door slid back.

  ‘Well?’ Hartpury said.

  ‘Aren’t you going to carry me over the threshold or something?’ I asked.

  Hartpury snorted and pushed me through the dark doorway.

  Organic Hardware

  The Ledbetter suite stank of new plastic, that acidic smell that coats the back of your throat. It was mixed with a pinch of earthy cabling and a peculiar muskiness that I couldn’t quite place. Then the lights came on. We were standing in a large hexagonal shaped lounge room.

  ‘Welcome Cadet Joss Aaronson. Welcome Dr Janeen Hartpury,’ a smooth female computer voice said. ‘This unit is coded to the voices of Cadet Joss Aaronson and Cadet Mavkel. Environmental controls have been set at twenty-two degrees with a humidity level of fifty-three. Lighting is set to the equivalent of current levels of daylight.’ The voice rabbited on about lighting preferences and program changes.

  ‘Is this going to happen every time someone walks in?’ I asked Hartpury.

  The computer answered.

  ‘The welcome facility is automatic, but can be shut down at any time.’

  ‘Then shut it down.’

  ‘Completed.’

&nb
sp; Now I could place that musky smell. The Ledbetter suite was set up with organic computers. The two access consoles were in opposite corners of the hexagon. A bio-tank was attached to each one, the organic gel heaving as it blended rainbow colours in a complex program. All that pulsating goo made me feel a bit queasy. Too bad you can’t hide the stuff in some kind of casing, but without lots of light and air it dries up and dies.

  The whole place was decorated in shades of Ledbetter’s favourite colour: blue. Even the food dispenser was blue. I could just make it out in the eating area that opened out from the back wall of the hexagon. On either side of this section there was a closed door. Probably the bedrooms. I bet they were blue, too. Whoever decorated this building had no imagination.

  ‘The bedroom and console on the left have been modified for Mavkel,’ Hartpury said. ‘There’s also a specialised food dispenser for it too. Have a quick look round. Then I want to tell you about the research we’ve done.’ She was smiling as though she had personally built the place.

  I wanted to check out Mavkel’s room, but you can’t snoop properly with someone watching. That would have to wait. Instead, I walked over to the console on the right side of the hexagon. My console. As I approached the screen turned to face me. I feinted to the left. The screen swung with me. This machine was definitely state-of-the-art. As soon as Hartpury left, I’d have to check out its capabilities. The gel blurped at me. It sounded like a baby puking on someone’s shoulder.

  I dropped my duffel and took a look inside my bedroom. Finally, something that wasn’t blue. The room was white with a single bed, a side table and one pale Ledbetter print. The room was big enough for a king-sized bed, but students only get issued singles. All in all it was a bit wishy-washy. The only bit of real colour was in the ensuite. The whole bathroom had been moulded out of yellow plastic. That kind of yellow you pee when you’ve been taking too much vitamin B. At least it had a full sized bather. I hate cramming myself into a water-saver.

  The food and living area at the back was straight out of one of Ingrid’s home beautiful programs. I flicked over the choices on Mavkel’s food dispenser. The names of the food had been translated into English, but I couldn’t understand the descriptions. You’ve got to wonder though what Melch Daglon tastes like.