One's Aspect to the Sun Page 5

  I shook my head. “No, we weren't going to carry a full cargo load anyway, and we'll be offloading some before we get to GI 182. I just wondered why. Baden can tell the steves to keep Pod One clear. Thanks for the input.” Viss had some questionable friends, but sometimes they came in handy.

  I headed for my cabin, wondering what the PrimeCorp message might say. When I outloaded it to my datapad, I saw that the tone had changed considerably from the previous missive.

  Received: from [205152.59.68] PrimeCorp Main Division

  NOTEBUG-V.: 25.7

  Encryption: securetext/novis/noaud

  Receipt recording: internal/enabled

  From: “Chairman Alin Sedmamin”

  To: “Luta Paixon”

  Date: Mon, 4 Nov 2284 10:29:32 -0500

  Captain Paixon,

  As I have not yet had a reply to my previous message, I have become concerned that you may be planning to depart Earth without contacting me. I would advise against this course of action. The synthetic virus organically embedded into this message should be treated at PrimeCorp Main as soon as possible. I will make myself available at your convenience.

  Chairman Alin Sedmamin

  Virus! I swore quietly. I hadn't downloaded any new virus definitions since I'd docked on Earth, and it seemed clear that Alin Sedmamin knew that. They must have a tap on my datalinks, which was unquestionably illegal, but hell, they were PrimeCorp, and who was going to do anything about it?

  It followed that they'd be watching to see what I did next, so I didn't make a hasty connection and start looking for definitions. No sense in letting the bastardos know they'd rattled me. Instead, I went looking for Baden, and found him still on the bridge with Rei and Yuskeya.

  “Baden, do you still have that virus scanner you ran for us on Jertenda?”

  He looked up, sea-green eyes concerned. “Sure. What's wrong, Captain, catch a bug?”

  “Yeah, you could say that. Is it up to date?”

  “Pretty much. It might not pinpoint some of the latest synthetics, but it could still return a general analysis. I could look for an update first.”

  “No, I don't want anyone accessing the datalinks now. Let's just go with what you have. I'm making a guess about something but I need some data to know if I'm right or not.”

  “Meet you in the galley in five minutes,” he said, striding down toward his quarters.

  Rei raised her eyebrows at me but I said, “Tell you later. Meantime, put an extra encryption filter on all incoming data and see if Viss has some 'special' gadget to look for a tap on the datalinks. I don't want anything outgoing until Viss checks it out. If anyone shows up with cargo, check the manifest down to the nanoprint and run an ID implant scan on whoever's loading it.”

  “Sure thing, Captain.”

  “Yuskeya, run a rootsource verification on that new wormhole data, would you?”

  She started to protest but I shook my head. “I know, you got it from a friend, but it wouldn't be the first time someone used an innocent middleman for other purposes. Just verify it, okej?”

  “No problem, Captain. You're right. Better safe . . .”

  “If there is such a thing,” I muttered as I left the bridge.

  In the corridor near my cabin, a swift wave of nausea coursed through me. Hot sweat prickled on my forehead and I leaned against the door, closed my eyes and bent over, swallowing hard and hoping I wouldn't vomit. I couldn't remember what that would be like, but I knew it wasn't pleasant. There's a corollary to never getting older: I'm never sick, either. The most I ever feel is a general discomfort, usually gone within half an hour or so. Maybe a one-time churn of the stomach, or twinge of a headache. So while I stood panting and feeling wretched and cursing Alin Sedmamin, I was fairly certain that it wouldn't last.

  I was right. In less than two minutes the nausea passed and I continued down to the galley. Baden was pulling an inky, pungent triple caff out of the machine when I entered.

  “Want one?” he asked.

  “Sure.” It smelled damn good, and I wanted to be thinking clearly for the next little while. Nothing perks up the brain like a triple caff.

  He brought the steaming mugs over to the table, where he'd set down his datapad.

  “You planning to tell me what this is about?” he asked as he set up the scan.

  “PrimeCorp.”

  “Really? Do they ever give up?”

  “I guess not.” The crew knew I'd had run-ins with PrimeCorp in the past, although they didn't know the details. As I said, we respected each other's secrets.

  “You must have really pissed them off.” He gestured with the datapad. “You ready?”

  I held out my arm and he pressed the datapad over my ID implant, then wiggled it until it beeped to signal a good connection. He tapped the screen and a soft bioplas strap snaked out and wound around my arm, holding the datapad in place snugly but comfortably.

  “Hey, mine doesn't do that!”

  He half-smiled. “How old is yours?”

  “Okej, okej, so I'm not a techdog like you.”

  The datapad chattered a sequence of beeps and Baden leaned in to read the screen. “You have a beacon implant there?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes, does that matter?” Damne. I hadn't thought about that implant in ages. Hirin and I had bought them years ago, when our runs often took us to the more dangerous and then newly-explored reaches of Nearspace. I couldn't very well tell Baden that, though.

  “No, the datapad just picked it up. It's pretty outdated, though.”

  I grinned. “I told you I wasn't a techdog.” I thought fast. “Our parents bought them for us when we were kids. We travelled a lot, and they were always worried about us getting lost in some spacedock or something.”

  Baden nodded, leaned back in his chair and took a sip of caff.

  “It's running the scan now. Shouldn't take too long. What exactly are we looking for?”

  I considered. I didn't want to give too much away, but it's always nice to get some credit if you turn out to be right. Helps crew morale if they think their Captain's at least mildly inteligenta. “If I tell you what I think, and I'm right, you'll just have to accept it. Deal?”

  He pursed his lips. “Deal. I guess. Although it won't be nearly so interesting if I can't have an explanation.”

  “Okej then.” I took a second to collect my thoughts. “I think it's going to find that I'm infected with a synthetic, organic virus, data-embeddable, probably not too nasty but annoying enough to warrant treatment. The virus won't be thriving, though. It'll already be partially dormant or dying.”

  Baden frowned. “That's pretty specific.”

  I shrugged and tasted my caff. It was heavenly—hot and creamy and sweeter than I would have made it, and good enough to make me consider the possibility that I'd been drinking it wrong all these years. “Let's just see if I'm right.”

  He took another sip from his mug, then said, “If I'm not allowed to ask you about that, can I ask you something else?”

  “Go ahead.” I smiled. “I can't guarantee that I'll answer that either, though.”

  Baden looked me in the eye. “Who's Hirin? I mean really. How are you two related?”

  I opened my mouth to answer but he held up a warning finger. “It's only fair to warn you that if you tell me it's none of my business then I'm going to be pretty sure I know the real answer.”

  “Think so?”

  “There's only one that I can think of that you might want to keep secret.”

  I picked up my caff very deliberately and took another drink. “It's none of your business.”

  He stared at me with narrowed eyes, then nodded. “Okej. It leaves more questions than it answers, but okay.”

  The datapad trilled, and he reached over and gently released it from my arm. “It'll take a minute to compile the analysis.”

  “No problem.” I leaned back in the chair and tucked my feet up on the seat. Baden was busy t
apping the screen and I watched him carefully.

  I wondered if he'd actually guessed the truth about my relationship with Hirin. Probably. There was nothing slow about Baden. The question was, why did he care? I hoped it was pure curiosity. I didn't have time for complications.

  “That's weird,” he said suddenly. He was frowning down at the datapad screen.

  “What?”

  “Just a second.” He watched the screen intently for another minute or so and then fiddled with the touchpad. He shook his head. “Do you mind if I hook you up again and take another sample?”

  “It didn't work?”

  He grimaced. “It's not that. I've got the virus nailed down, I think. I'm getting data on another entity as well—but it keeps disappearing before the analysis can run. One second it's there but before the program can collect enough data, it's gone.”

  Wordlessly I stuck out my arm, my heart thudding uncomfortably against the walls of my chest. Another entity. I shivered despite the warmth of the galley and the hot caff. It might be a clue—if Baden could get enough information about it to be useful.

  The datapad locked itself on my arm and emitted its string of beeps. I looked up from it and met Baden's intent regard.

  “You know what it is, don't you?”

  “No,” I said truthfully, “I don't. But I have a few ideas, and I'd sure love to know if any of them are right or even close.”

  Baden got up and took his mug over to refill it. “You?” he asked, but I shook my head. When he came back and sat down he said, “Everybody has things they don't talk about. I think this crew has more than the usual complement. But I'm beginning to think that you've got more than all of us put together.”

  “You may be right,” I admitted. “I'd have to know all of everyone else's secrets to know for sure. You want to go first?”

  He laughed. “Not at the moment. Maybe someday. But what if you have to give up one of yours because of this scan?”

  “If I do, I do.” I shrugged. “None of my secrets are life-threatening. Just uncomfortable.” I sipped at my still half-full mug of caff. “Well, as far as I know, anyway.”

  The datapad trilled and Baden swiftly removed it from my arm, touching the commands to run the analysis as quickly as possible. I felt certain that if he didn't get the data this time there would be no sense in trying again. It was the nature of the “entity,” as he'd called it, to be almost invisible. I'd learned that much long ago.

  “Damne,” he whispered, and I knew it hadn't been quite fast enough.

  He sat back in his chair and smiled humorlessly. “Want to know what we got?”

  I nodded.

  “The virus is or was a synthetic-organic virus, data-embeddable, probably one that would cause mild vomiting, fever, and other unpleasantness for a week or so. However, the virus is not thriving. All the fragments we caught were already disintegrating or dying.” He set the datapad down on the table and tapped it lightly with his knuckles. “Exactly like you said.”

  “What can I say? I'm a good guesser.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He turned the datapad so he could read it. “As for the other stuff, whatever it was, it seemed like it didn't want to be found. I think it was only partially organic. It was attaching itself to the virus and then detaching again quickly and either breaking down or—reorganizing itself. The program couldn't get a clear read on it.”

  “That's okej.” What might these slim clues mean? Partially organic. Attaching and detaching from the virus cells. Then breaking down or changing—on a molecular level? Which would explain why the analysis program couldn't maintain a fix on it to keep reading data?

  “What?” I jerked out of my thoughts as Baden touched my hand.

  “I said, I want to connect the datapad one more time and update your virus protocols and a few of your modules, okej? Since it seems you're too busy to do it yourself.” As the datapad trilled and chattered, his grin faded and he looked serious. “Captain, does any of this make sense to you? Part of what we found was what you guessed.”

  I nodded. “It makes some sense. It was what I was hoping for, the virus part, anyway. That was a little unsolicited gift from PrimeCorp, one that I won't forget about anytime soon. The rest—I don't know. It's something I'm still trying to figure out.”

  “And that's all you're going to say about it?”

  “For now. Thanks, though, Baden. I'm sorry I can't say more.”

  He laughed. “Hey, like I said, we all have our secrets.” He stood up and was suddenly serious. “Just be sure you tell someone if you need help, Captain. PrimeCorp—I've heard some things. They're not very . . . scrupulous.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I've figured that out.”

  I wasn't about to cancel my cargo jobs to leave early, so I couldn't just laugh in PrimeCorp's face as we were thrusting for the upper atmosphere. They'd know by now exactly when we were scheduled to leave Earth, and if they'd abandoned whatever slim scruples they used to have I wasn't about to walk into Alin Sedmamin's plush office at PrimeCorp Main. However, I couldn't leave the situation as it was, either.

  I called him an hour or so later, when I was sure the nausea wasn't coming back. My “entity” appeared to have done a thorough job. The PrimeCorp secretary-avatar, synthetically beautiful in the way only corporate avatars seem to be, put me through right away.

  Sedmamin's face, when it came onscreen, was paunchier and paler than I remembered from our last talk. It made his small dark eyes look even more pig-like, although I guessed he'd had a Vigor-Us treatment since then. He'd pressed me pretty hard that time to come into the research department for some tests, even making thinly-veiled threats, so I'd had to end the conversation by closing the connection abruptly and shipping out that night for Quma with the cargo pods only half-full.

  Might as well get to the point. “Saluton, Chairman Sedmamin. This is Luta Paixon. I'm not planning to come in and see you this visit, so I'm placing this call instead.”

  “Saluton, Captain Paixon. Did you receive both my messages?”

  “I did. Your notebugs are highly efficient. By the way, don't bother sending another one. It will not be accepted.”

  Sedmamin smiled thinly. “You seem irritable, Captain. Are you feeling unwell?”

  “Actually, Chairman, I'm feeling fine. Perhaps the virus in your note has malfunctioned. Or come to other grief. It was a rather unusual way of extending your hospitality, I must say.”

  “You've ignored my previous invitations.” He shrugged, not an elegant gesture for him. “I felt other measures were in order.”

  “Chairman Sedmamin, let's stop dancing, shall we? You want to know if I have any information on the whereabouts of my mother. I do not know where she is. You want me to come into your research facility and submit to tests to determine if I'm carrying around any bits of my mother's research that you consider to be the property of PrimeCorp. I am refusing to do so; I have a ship to run and business of my own to attend to, and I am fully within my rights. I know without asking that you have no information you're willing to share with me—”

  “Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Captain Paixon, and I'm wounded by your mistrust.” He didn't look wounded in the least; in fact, he seemed to be gloating. “I have solid information that your mother was alive and well as recently as one month ago.”

  “Really?” I kept my face impassive. For the second time that day my heart was going a couple of rounds with my rib cage. “And what would you call 'solid' information?”

  “Would you consider a first-hand encounter with a PrimeCorp associate, who has identified her convincingly from hologrammatic representations, to be 'solid'?”

  “I might. Was this associate hunting for her? He may be lying to try and impress you. What sort of evidence do you have?”

  “It was a she,” he corrected me, “and she wasn't 'hunting' your mother, as you so crudely put it. She merely thought the face was familiar. She had seen a hologram of your mother here, or she would not have noticed h
er on—when she saw her. She then confirmed the sighting with the hologram back here at home as the woman she'd spoken to.”

  “Impressive.” I did my best to look bored. “And where did this exciting face-to-face encounter take place?” He'd almost let it slip.

  “Oh, no, Captain.” He waggled a chubby finger at me as if I were a naughty pet and sat back in his leather chair. “Information exchange is what I'm after, not a one-way transfer. Come in, let us take some samples, and I'll give you open access to the file on the most recent verified sighting of your mother.”

  I sighed. “Well, I'll think about it. We ship out tomorrow. I don't know if I can fit it in.”

  “Before you go,” Sedmamin said, leaning forward slightly in his chair, “I'd like you to meet some one.”

  This was unusual. Generally it was just me and Sedmamin in not-so-cozy privacy. “Certainly,” I said.

  Sedmamin gestured to someone off-screen and a woman moved in to my field of view to stand just behind him. It was difficult to tell, but she seemed tall, and looked fit in a sleek black pantsuit with the PrimeCorp logo embroidered tastefully on one lapel. Dark blonde hair was pulled back from her face, except for a few tendrils that curled around it, softening her angular features. She wasn't exactly smiling, but had arranged her face in a pleasantly neutral expression.

  “Luta Paixon, this is one of my administrative assistants, Dores Amadoro,” Sedmamin said. Dores nodded politely. It could have been just the video feed, but her eyes seemed cold and appraising as they surveyed me, like I was an interesting specimen of something.

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Amadoro,” I said.

  “Likewise, Captain Paixon,” she said. I didn't get the impression she thought it was very nice at all.

  “Ms. Amadoro will be your liaison with PrimeCorp for the next while,” Sedmamin said, smiling as if we were all good business partners. “She's very ambitious. Any questions or concerns, you can bring to her, and she'll be speaking to you for me. Anything that comes from her, you can assume has my approval.”