2093-09-17 Local Time 2203
BetaMountain – MPQ 206
Day 443
"Hello, Eliza." Niko stood in the door with her space sac over her shoulder. "Do you have a bed for me?"
"Sure." Eliza Fox held open the door and let Niko step inside. "You've just arrived, haven't you?"
"My ship landed twenty minutes ago." Niko dropped her luggage into an armchair and picked up Poss, who was rubbing up against her legs with an infernal purring. "You still remember me, do you?" She stroked him under the snout and the cat managed to increase his purring once again before she turned back to Eliza. "I come home and discover that my apartment was obviously looted by the Crown Armada!" Must have happened when one of these idiots tried to open my Xeryon artifact. Shane hadn't defused his 'reading block.'
"That's not all, Niko. You're pretty seriously in the soup because of Goose."
"He still hasn't been found?" There was a touch of fear in Niko's voice.
"No, and Zachary wants to talk to you about it as soon as possible." When Niko looked around, Eliza smiled. "Don't worry, he hasn't come home yet. – But SecStaff has collected some charges against you. Pretty big guns." They walked into the kitchen. "Tea?"
"Yes, please." Niko sighed and sunk down on a chair, with the cat still attached by all four paws to her shirt. Now I know why Shane usually left his shirt behind at O'Malley's, she thought, amused.
"This cat's name really suits him, doesn't it?" Eliza grinned.
"How did he behave?"
"Acceptably. He played with Jessie, hissed at Zachy, scratched Zach's boots, and insisted on sleeping on my quilt," she winked with a laughing eye, "which had Zach much more pissed off than the issue with the boots."
Niko snickered and removed at least the one paw whose claws were now touching her skin. "Thanks for watching him in spite of all the trouble."
Eliza smiled. "You're welcome. And as for the trouble: Zachary would have exploded if we'd given the cat away."
Niko still ran her fingers over the short grey fur of the cat that had now curled up in her lap. "What is it that SecStaff has made up, anyway?" she asked.
"As far as I heard, they're saying you helped Goose escape because you two had an – hnngh – because he lived with you for more than a year."
"What?!" Niko straightened up, which caused an annoyed hiss from Poss as he scrambled onto the kitchen table to safety. "That's too much. They're in for it tomorrow morning!" She dropped back. "Forget SecStaff." She sniffed suddenly. "I'm frightened out of my mind about Goose. He was so ill and he's been missing for so long."
"We're all worried about him, Niko." Eliza laid her hand calmingly on the younger woman's arm.
"I haven't seen him for such a long time." Almost two days.
"You still have to grapple with these charges or else..."
"I know." Niko tried without success to suppress a yawn. "Can you show me my bed now?"
"Of course." Eliza nearly pushed her into the guest room. "You're right. Before you do anything you'll need some rest first." She has to be totally tired. At first the call from Xanadu when Goose was already so ill, then the news about his disappearance, and the two cling to each other so strongly. Then she finally came home and instead of finding even an encouraging note they charge her with high treason, desertion, and immoral behavior. It's a shame to be a part of this bunch!
Niko curled up under the blanket, laid her head onto her crossed arms, and brooded. She'd reckoned on accusations, but accusations such as these ones!? Shit, if I'm not very careful I'll spend the rest of my life in the Deltoid. She had to get rid of these charges before SecStaff carved too deeply or even set up a permanent surveillance of her.
Poss jumped up on the bed and curled up next to her waist, snuggling against her with a faint purring. She stroked him unconsciously, and a piece of advice flashed through her mind: "The best weapon against the establishment is attack." What if I... She began to smile maliciously.
2093-09-18 Local Time 0823
BetaMountain – Cmdr. Walsh's Office
Day 444
"You want to bring what?!" Walsh half-jumped out off his office chair and stared at the telepath as if an extra head had grown on her shoulders. "You're accused of theft of high-security material, of aiding and abetting a desertion, and of having a liaison with one of your teammates! And–" He just stood gasping.
"And I want to bring a charge against SecStaff of unlawful forcible entry into my apartment, wanton destruction of irreplacable archeological art treasures, and defamation! Yes, sir. I do." Niko flashed challengingly at the commander. "There's no excuse for the security department to ignore all fundamental rights because of a mere suspicion!"
"Are you aware what this means?"
"Yes, sir, I am. And you should be aware that SecStaff can't prove even one of these absurd accusations!"
"These absurd accusations, as you put it, aren't trivial matters, Ranger. The theft of high-security material is put on a level with planetary treason, and aiding and abetting a desertion is judged as if you've deserted yourself."
"I beg your pardon, but what am I supposed to have stolen?"
"You know that quite well."
"Oh!" She gave Walsh a black look. "All right! I must have simply packed him into my suitcase – sir." The 'sir' came pretty late. "Has he deserted or has he been stolen, then, Commander?"
"That isn't the point, Niko."
"But I feel that it is! They're accusing me and don't even know exactly what I'm supposed to have done at all! – And while we're at it: Even SecStaff should be able to get hold of enough working brain cells among their crew to recognize that Ranger Gooseman's been in no condition for sexual contacts during the last year! How am I supposed to take the insinuation of an affair with him, then?"
"Ranger Niko!"
It took her a visible effort to calm down. "Will you forward my charge or not, sir?"
"Yes, I will." Walsh typed a note and looked up afterwards as if he had forgotten that she was still there. Wow. She's got a murderous temperament when somebody gets in her way. SecStaff had better expect the worst. "You're dismissed, Niko."
"Thank you, sir."
When the door into the corridor had closed behind her, she leaned against the wall. Phew... I nearly died of fear.
2093-09-18 Local Time 0823
Planet Kirwin
Day 444
"Come on. Get up! Out of the bed!" A pawlike hand banged energically on the quilt, causing the raised dust to dance in the early light. Within Gooseman's head, the whacks sounded like an attacking cohort of heavy Crown cavalry. "I've given you three days to get over your girlfriend's goodbye. But now that's the end of the moping." The drumming repeated. "Out! Breakfast is in half an hour in the kitchen. I know you've got problems with narrow rooms and crooked sitting, so that's why we're eating here." Mrs. Zee tugged vigorously at the blanket, which Goose held while giving an all-consuming, malicious growl that didn't impress the Kiwi lady at all. "Forget it, young man! You get up now whether it pleases you or not. And you can save your growl. I've got three hyperactive children, two notoriously unreliable brothers, and a husband who prefers to roam around the galaxy as ambassador instead of helping at home with the children. You won't match me! So, out of the sheets! Or do I have to tie the Mothmoose to your bed first?"
Goose shot straight up in bed. "Anything but that."
"There you are." Mrs. Zee beamed at him. "I knew I could get you awake. And now come on, we eat in twenty minutes."
When a nicely clean and clean-shaven Goose nearly crawled into the kitchen a quarter of an hour later, he was instantly surrounded by a noisy pack that proved, after a startling second, to be the Kiwi kids, who seemed terribly happy that he was really here.
"Give him some room, children!" Mrs. Zee stood upon a stool at the stove, making something that smelled like pancakes but also disgustingly like milk. "Gooseman doesn't like to have so many people hanging on him these days."
She smiled when he gave her a surprised glance. "I got Pneumox when I was a child. It didn't last for more than two weeks, but it was hard to breathe during that time. I can remember quite well how it was when my whole family visited me. And I don't want to know how it would feel if it were really life-threatening and lasted as long as what you have." She scratched about inside the pan. "I bit my brother then just because he sat too close to me. You believe everybody's taking your air away."
He sniffed when she slipped the contents of the pan onto a big dish and put it, together with a bowl of syrup, on the table.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. Milk doesn't agree with me."
Mrs. Zee called for order in her bunch of rascals. "No milk? What a pity. Than you go behind the house and pick some zoolas. I'll use the juice to bake new pancakes for you."
"What do Zoolas look like?"
"Can I show them to him, Mom?"
"I want–"
"No, I do!"
"Quiet, children! You all have your food. Gooseman is a big boy. He'll find them on his own." The children settled down. "The almost square-shaped fruits. Take those that are already white and at least as big as my fist, not smaller or pink." She called after him: "The plants have yellow striped leaves!"
"Mom, why doesn't Gooseman know zoolas?"
"He's from a planet where they don't grow, Swee."
"Why is he here?" asked her older son, Buzz.
"Because he–"
"I got wounded in an attack."
"Cool!"
"Buzz!" Mrs. Zee was shocked.
"But where? There's nothing to see any more."
"My lungs were burned. It's hard for me to breathe."
"Ow. I'm sorry for that, Goose." Buzz looked with wide eyes at him.
"We are, too."
"It'll heal." He piled the square fruits onto the working table next to the stove. "What shall I do with them now?"
"Squeeze them, of course." Mrs. Zee took a big bite of one pancake she had dedicated to Goose and gave him an encouraging smile. "Don't worry. You're gonna love my zoola pancakes. And I'll make a kitchen pro out of you, you'll see." She reflected on Niko's letter that had awaited her at their arrival in the main house and smiled inwardly: "...please keep him busy..." Absolutely no problem!
2093-10-22 Local Time 1756
BetaMountain – GRS5 office
Day 478
"Niko, do you remember those files we rustled up for Goose?"
She tensed briefly. "Yes, I do."
Doc regretted having mentioned Gooseman. All of them knew how fast his survival chances were falling with every passing day. "I'm sorry. – But these files kept nagging at me. I found out where they were really saved and," her chin rushed up, "I found a hidden mainframe partition that nobody seems to know anything about."
"Did you find more files?"
"Yes, I did. That's just the point. One of them is called 'STPOL.' You've seen these other files, too. Do you have any idea what it could be?" He pushed half a dozen milk-glass readcubies towards her – tiny cube-shaped memory crystals, each with a little holoprojector and an energy cell attached to it.
"What have you done with them?"
"I transferred them into readcuby format because that weird code for the alarm imprint seems to be embedded in them, too. In this format we'll be able to look at them. And SecStaff doesn't scan readcubies." He winked.
"I doubt they can read anyway. – 'STPOL,' you said?"
"Yeah, ST-Pol. Maybe they were planning to start an ST police unit back then. I don't know. Cuby 4."
"Let's see." She activated cuby 4, but instead of a description or explanation, endless columns of a table scrolled through the viewfield. Niko stopped scrolling and started to read. After a moment she frowned and scrolled again. "This doesn't tell me anything... Wait. There are some names in the file, pretty close to the end."
"Do you know what to do with it?"
"No." She thought about it for a moment. "But... May I take them with me? Maybe I know someone who can help us with them." Doc twitched under her cynical smile. "But it's going to take a while."
"We have plenty of time. By the way: Did you really volunteer for the security check at LSL tomorrow?" He shuddered in mock horror. "Yuck. That's always dead boring."
"Depends on what you're searching for, Doc. Depends on what you're searching for... But just out of curiosity: What would I have to consider if I wanted to cover up my visit there so nobody could prove I was there?"
"The vid archive sequences, the backup, the original tapes–"
"Original tapes?"
"I found them by accident the last time they condemned me to do one of these sec checks. Was just after the armada attack. The energy supply was pretty low, and I noticed some set-aside kilowatts." Doc grinned. "LongShot is totally up-to-date, but the base itself is age-old. And you already know the military. Rearm? Sure! Reduce? Never!" He shrugged, "LongShot is probably the only lab facility in the whole League that still makes magnetic tapes of its high-security areas – in an endless loop."
Niko's hand tensed so painfully around his arm that Doc twitched. "How much time does a loop cover, Doc?"
"Two years. Why?"
"Because it may be that this old junk is going to break someone's neck." A hard glitter showed in Niko's eyes. "How do I get access to those tapes?"
2093-10-23 Local Time 0912
LongShot Laboratories – Level Sub-23
Day 479
Really – there he is! Wheiner. The age-old magnetic tape was blurred, already had picture errors and stripes through the image, but it was the senator. Where's he going? Niko scrolled through the endless, automatically changed tapes. There are recordings here from rooms not even shown on the construction plans! They look like they've been unaccessed for decades. I bet it would be interesting to follow the connections of these cameras to get a complete plan of the ba– There he is again! She looked at the location inserted right in the tape: Room 277-A-3, made a note, and ran the tape onward... What's he taking out of that container? Looks like... That's it!! She stopped the tape and searched through the old, dusty manuals stored under the spiderweb-covered console for a copy procedure...
Eric Wheiner was a cautious man. Anyone who got involved in things like Genomtoxin had to be. He hadn't left the faintest trace in any of the other security systems. What an irony that of all things, something outdated before genetic warfare was even developed nailed him now! Only one question still remained: the connection between Wheiner, Negata, and the GTP.
2093-11-26 Local Time 1148
Planet Kirwin
Day 513
"It's really simple, Gooseman: you take three eggs, puncture them at the ends with a hole each – use the egg pricker for it, that works best – and lay them in salty water. Than you put the pot on the stove, pay attention when the water starts bubbling and ten minutes later we've got hard-cooked eggs I can dice into lunch."
So far, he'd had no problems. Puncture the eggs, into the pot with salt water on the stove, wait till it bubbles... now! He looked at the clock. Everything's fine. It got stuffy with the pot of water boiling, so he opened the windows and wedged tight the kitchen door. The wind – fresh as always – felt good, and he wouldn't have to expect surprises since the kids were at the agricultural research center on the other end of the island today...
The bang of the detonation made his body react before his mind realized what had actually happened. He flanked over the kitchen table, knocked it to its side, and felt as he fell for a usable weapon. Some part of his brain registered, satisfied, that his battle reflexes were present again and obviously worked perfectly. The next question was more alarming: What triggered them?
The peeling knife at hand and ready to throw, he peered around the table edge – only to drop to back on his backside, floored: The eggs have exploded!
Since when do hen's eggs explode? Except when they're thrown at the speaker at a demo and accidentally hit the pavement. But while cooking? He had to take a deep breath as his adrenaline level slowly went down again, and he leaned, his back very straight, against the cupboard behind him. The eggs had exploded without a doubt. Half-clotted egg whites and yolk remnants were stuck around the stove, on the walls, and even on the ceiling. He looked down himself and discovered that he himself had gotten his share of slime. He scraped a splot of white off his chest.
"What's happened?" Mrs. Zee rushed in and stood stiff as a poker at seeing the mess. "Are you injured?"
"I'm okay." He examined the place, which looked like an SS-64 had hit it. "At least I know now why hand grenades are called 'eggs,'" he grinned, still breathing heavily. "Not because of their shape, but they blow up exactly the same."
"You're allowed to laugh, young man." Mrs. Zee looked over the chaos and shook her head. "You're going to need hours to fix the kitchen."
"Laughing's still too painful," he explained dryly and got back to his feet. "I'll change to non-gluey clothes and get to work on the stuff."
"What on Kirwin did you do to those eggs?"
"No idea, Ma'am. I just followed your orders." With a wilful smile: "But I wouldn't mind trying it again!"
"Don't you dare! Near me, you touch only broken eggs!"
2093-12-30 Local Time 1332
BetaMountain – GRS5 office
Day 547
"What, you're still here?" Doc took a seat beside her on the console's desktop. "You were already at work here before our shift actually started and now after lunch break you're still here. Have you moved at all?"
Niko kept concentrating on the monitor. "I can work on this project for the first time in three months, Doc." She called up another file from the archive. "I want to have this done."
He laid his hand on her forehead in pretended concern and attempted to feel for her pulse. "Oh no! I diagnose a severe case of workaholism, that needs to be treated immediately."
"Not now, Doc." Niko didn't seem to really notice him. "GV, the next file."
=The next 526 files on the list based on your specifications are recordings of Tri-D broadcasts.=
She sighed. "Play back."
"Niko, I'm really starting to worry about you."
"Later."
Hartford shook his head. "You're hopeless."
"The group in your space tactics seminar may be pretty good, oh my honorable Captain, but in my applied computer psychology class, the brightest cadet in the bunch is an old tea light candle."
"You're too hard on them, Doc. We've only been teaching them for two weeks now."
"And? – I can't believe it! She's still here."
"What's the problem?"
"Niko. It's nearly 1900 hours and she's still sitting at the console."
"She's working."
"Continuously, since before 0800 this morning? Zach, she's going to fall off the chair."
"What's she doing?"
"No idea."
Fox watched the slightly slumped figure before the terminal. She looked really tired. "Niko?" He went over to her and glanced at the monitor: a BWL session, judging from the wardrobes, an old one. This can't be that important. "Finish tomorrow."
"Not now, Zach." The answer came automatically; she didn't even take her eyes off the monitor. Her hand movement seemed to wipe him to the side like a bit of fluff.
He tried it with authority. "Ranger Niko, as your commanding officer–"
"We're after office hours." Again without looking up.
"What are you still doing here, then?"
"Searching."
"But for what, for Heaven's sake." She's slowly getting to be as stubborn as G– No.
"Hey! I'd always thought he was for that shit!"
"Who? What?" Niko jumped, stared at Doc.
"Well, Wheiner there." He pointed on the display. "Recall the last thing he said. He's definitely talking against the Supertrooper Project. I'd always thought he was the powerhouse behind it."
"What are you say–" A metallic glitter appeared in her eyes. "GV, time index two minutes back. Play back."
–and therefore I think it is indispensable to cover our world sufficiently against the possibility of a setback, an abuse, or even a theft of these experimental weapons. Dear ladies and gentlemen, dear members of the Board of World Leaders, dear colleagues, I demand once and for all the establishment of a project for developing an operational defense weapon against genetically engineered soldiers. I'm also for using STP material for this project. We can't refuse to build up and establish a working defense against these weapon concepts–
"Massacre, that's it!" She settled back into her chair. "GV, I need a copy of this recording and a text quote of the speech – both certified."
=Yes, ma'am.=
"Have you finally found what you were searching for?" Zachary asked into the lasting silence.
Niko pushed back her sweaty hair and noticed her tiredness for the first time. "Yes, I have." She looked up at the two men. "Thank you, Doc. Without you I'd most likely have missed that."
"That's what happens when you work without breaks for more than ten hours."
"Ten hours? What's the time, then?"
"It's nearly 2030."
"Ouch. – Zachary, may I put GV on the remaining questions during the night?"
"Only if you let it work on its own."
"Okay, then."
He smiled warningly. "Eliza and I expect you for a late dinner at 2130. So don't believe you can work through the night behind my back."
"I won't do that, Zach." She turned toward the console again. "GV, search in the remaining files on the list for the following expressions, whether written or spoken, taking into consideration the possibilities of abbreviations or different spellings. In case of doubt: include it..."
The door behind her slid shut. She looked back; Zach and Doc were already gone. Good. They don't need to know exactly what I'm searching for. "Supertrooper, ST, Supertrooper Project, STP, Genomtoxin Project, GTP, genetically engineered soldiers, Negata, Owen, Walsh, Joseph Horatio, Wheiner, Eric... – report exclusively to me. If someone else tries to get access to it, delete it all: the list, the questions, the results."
=Yes, Ma'am. Even your teammates?=
"Even the Universe itself, GV."
I didn't say I wouldn't shorten the night... Niko slid the GRS5s office door shut behind her at 0100. "Results, GV?"
=Some Tri-D tapes contain allusions to the speech you already saw.=
She waved it away. "Not that important. Save it. Anything else?"
=Some tax reports belonging to Senator Wheiner dating from 2084 to 2086 including the name Negata, Owen.=
"Display!" She opened her thermal coffee pot and took a deep sip as the documents appeared on the screen. "I can't believe it..." She stared for nearly twenty minutes at the files; the coffee got cold in the mug in her hand before she collected herself enough to demand certified printouts.
Owen Negata's integration to a brain unit had been paid for by... Senator Wheiner! If that's not the connection between them, what else is? More, Negata worked at GTP, and Wheiner in LongShot knew exactly where and what he... I've got to find a way to get this to Goose!
2094-03-04 Local Time 1027
Planet Kirwin
Day 611
"I'm sorry, Zozo. You've missed him." Mrs. Zee stood on the stool in the guest house's kitchen, washing up.
"Why? Zee, where's Gooseman, then? It's urgent. I have to return in two hours."
"Round the island, like every morning."
"Which way?"
Mrs. Zee shook her head, causing her big ears to flap. "As far as I know he doesn't use the paths any longer – too easy. You'll have to wait, brother, till he's back, in a good hour."
"How long has he been gone now?"
"About twenty minutes. I must say..." She dried the next dish. "Every day, in the morning and in the evening, no matter what the weather. I've never seen anyone as dogged as he is before."
"You mean he makes the island tour in one and a half hours?"
"More or less. – Here, put these away." She handed Zozo the dishes.
He obeyed. "And you get on well with him?"
"Sure. You can tell Ms. Niko when she gets him back that he wouldn't be too bad as a housekeeper."
"Gooseman?!"
"Of course. Who else? Cooking works, too, as long as it isn't eggs." Zee snickered at the memory. "Shane Gooseman and eggs don't get on with each other."
"What happened, then?" Zozo noticed his sister's amusement.
"It's an incredible story, I can tell you...
"...I never found out what he really did to these eggs," she closed, snickering.
Gooseman came back in a sliding trot. A nod of greeting at Zozo sitting on the porch stairs, three heavy steps and he disappeared into the house... Still too slow. Breathing frequency... okay. Pulse frequency... okay. He wrote the measurements into the table with a sigh. The time's going to be a damn sight better this evening!
"Gooseman! I have to talk to you!" – Zozo.
"Yeah?" Goose looked at the Kiwi as if he hadn't noticed him before. "Sorry, I had work to do."
"I have almost no time left, Goose. I've got to be back at the spaceport in less than two hours. Here..." Zozo gave him a tied-up package. "It's from Niko. She said the contents should surprise you."
"Do you know what's in it?"
"No. But she warned me against giving SecStaff access to it."
"Okay. Then I know. – Can you take her something?"
"Sure. – You're finally doing better now, aren't you?"
"I'm still too slow, Zozo, far too slow."
"But you can breathe easy again."
"Yes!" he snapped. "And I'm gonna be faster, too!"
2094-03-09 Local Time 1211
BetaMountain – Cafeteria
Day 616
"Zach." Doc set his tray on the table and took a seat on the bench opposite his captain. "Where's Niko?"
"Over there." Zach pointed with his fork across the room. "She's waiting for someone."
"She's totally cut herself off." Doc sorted the vegetables on his dish.
Zachary nodded sadly. "She's never totally gotten over the story with Goose. Especially because everybody thought she'd know where he is."
"Even us," Doc ground his teeth.
"And so no one searched carefully enough for him, but wasted time observing her."
"Yes. Since she's so grim, maybe we should go over and cheer her up a little."
"I tried that ten minutes ago. But..." Zach shook his head and grimaced. "She actually sent me away. We can't really do anything when she doesn't want to let us help."
Doc dropped his head. "I know."
"There you are finally, Zozo."
The Kiwi hopped onto the bench next to her. "Sorry, but the hangar crew on duty today is a real imposition. Somebody must have grown them with artificial fertilizer – In any case, he's doing better. Zee told me he's already making the island tour in one and a half hours."
"Eleven kilometers?"
"Yes. But he isn't satisfied with the time."
"Naturally. He used to run ten kilometers in less than ten minutes. But how's he doing besides that?"
Zozo snickered. "Zee keeps him really busy, Niko. If I know my sister, you'll get a perfect houseman back from her – cooking abilities included."
Niko laughed out loud. "Are we really talking about–?"
"Yes, we are."
"I won't believe it till I see it."
"As long as you don't let him cook eggs..."
At Niko's laughter Fox and Doc looked up. "Who's that with her, Doc?"
"Zozo."
"Zozo? I can't believe it. The last one who made her laugh that way was Goose."
They saw Zozo pushing a brown envelope towards her. She opened it, looked at the contents, and bright color rushed into her face. The Kiwi next to her snickered. "Zach, just say, do you think Niko and Zozo...?"
"Don't talk such nonsense. Totally impossible!"
"We used to say the same thing about her and Goose, Captain."
She pushed the drawing hastily back into the envelope and was extremely conscious of her flaming cheeks. It has obvious disadvantages to be with a man who has enhanced senses. He sees far too much in the dark! She cleared her throat, embarrassed. "Anything else?"
"He said he needs some things. Wait..." He searched through his pockets. "I've got a list."
Niko looked over it – Air Toxin Test for the breath, and DNA profiles of a good half a dozen people: Walsh, Negata, Sawyer, Drews, Atkinson, Scolary... "For heaven's sake, how am I supposed to get these?"
"I don't know, Niko. But he said it's important."
"That's it. No doubt about it." She sighed. "I'll think of something. – Will you be flying back to Kirwin in the foreseeable future?"
"No, I'm sorry, Niko. But I've got a lecture series starting next week on some of the colonial planets. We've created these varieties of vegetables for dry and salty soils..."
"Okay." She looked at the floor for a moment. "I'll find a solution for it."
2094-04-30 Local Time 0239
BetaMountain – Medical Depot 4
Day 668
"Please believe me, Doc. I wouldn't drag you into this if I'd found another way to get these things." Niko stood beside Doc, who, kneeling, put two of his programs onto the depot's locking mechanism.
"Apart from our going to sort records at Pluto Base as Series-2 Rangers for the next twenty years if they catch us doing this – why don't you just ask for the stuff? All that's here is medical supplies and data that are freely dispensable."
She sighed audibly. "Because I need not only DNA data from the medical archives, but also a medical test, and all of BETA would scream if I request this test."
"DNA data and a medo test..." Hartford stiffened and looked thoughtfully at her. "You aren't pregnant, are you?" he asked after a moment.
"Pregnant, me?!" It left her speechless, almost. "How am I supposed to tak–" She interrupted herself and stared, flabbergasted, at him. "What on Earth made you think that?"
"Well, you and Zoz–"
"Don't make a fool of yourself!" she snapped at him. "And see that this door opens." She took a deep breath when he returned to his work. "Doc... I'm sorry. I didn't want to yell at you."
"It's okay. I know how you women are in this cond–"
"For the last time – I'm not pregnant!" She laid her hand on her temple. "Me and Zozo – only the necessary geometry exceeds my powers of imagination."
"What test are you looking for, then?"
"Believe me, it's better if you don't know."
"I'm helping you with a crime! At least I want to know why my lovely mom is going to have to visit her little Ranger in prison."
"All right then, Doc." She lowered her head and continued very faintly. "I need an ATT."
"A what?"
"An Air Toxin Test, a sensor for foreign substances in exhaled air."
"Did this infernal stuff back then have an effect on you after all?" he asked, concerned.
"The test isn't for me."
"Holy bits! So you have contact with Goose after all."
"Yes, I do. And he's doing better. Much better, Doc. But I can't remove the psionic block that eliminates his bio defenses before we are sure that all residues in his lungs are gone. That's why I need this test."
"And why must it be absolutely this very night?" He started to grin as the truth began to dawn on him. "Our job, this Series-5 presentation at the diplomatic reception... He's on Kirwin, right?" As she didn't answer, he gave a dismissive gesture. "Search me!" He laughed faintly. "But if I can help you somehow – will be pretty difficult to come back – let me know. I love to unnerve the BETA mainframe." He elegantly pushed open the depot's door.
"You may be risking far more than you think, Doc," she reminded him softly.
"Hey! Once a hacker, always a hacker! And you two were brilliant to take the League, the BWL, all of BETA in general, and Zach in particular for a ride! I just have to be in on that!"
Niko smiled. "You will, Doc. I promise."
"I only hope not in the same cell."
"So, we've got the ATT."
"Did you correct the computer's memory and the archive's administration to prevent its being missed?"
"Of course. I'm no amateur, my dear." He started another one of his programs. "Now let's get down to these DNA profiles. Whatever they're good for." He concentrated on his CDU's display. "Do you want electronic data or original batches?"
"Let's take EDs, they aren't that sensitive."
"All on one memory chip?"
"Separate chips, if possible."
"Okay... We've got access. Which ones do you want besides Zozo's?"
"Zo– Doc!!!"
"All right, all right. I just can't let it be. You know me. – So which, then?"
"I'll enter them manually."
"Too bad."
She tightened her gloves and started typing. If he reads it on his CDU, too, it's his own fault... Walsh, Joseph H.
"Saved." Doc changed the chip. "Next."
Negata, Owen... Sawyer, Maximilian...
2094-05-04 Local Time 1754
Planet Kirwin
Day 672
Bales of straw covered tightly with burlap skirted the path towards the guest house. While walking to the porch Niko noticed stab marks and occasional cuts in the cloth. A cork plate hung above the door. Some throwing stars were stuck halfway into it. None of them was more than an inch away from the center. The front door was open, wedged tight, like the two windows visible from her position.
A long sheet of paper was tacked to the wall inside. At the bottom were children's scribblings, but the upper two-thirds of it were covered by a table. She had a look at it: breathing frequency, pulse, hit accuracy before and after the running... At the top a lot of the notes were underlined in red; further down came more and more blue squiggles. In the fifth row from the end, all of the measurements had blue rings around them. Somebody had written an enthusiastic YEAH!!! next to the row...
She heard a rattling in the kitchen and followed the noise. Gooseman stood at the stove and stirred the contents of a big pan. The sea wind blew the steam immediately away through the also-wedged-tight kitchen door.
"Shane?"
He spun round so fast that a fistful of noodles splashed beside the stove, and looked at her as if he were seeing a ghost. "Niko."
"I have to apologize to Zozo because I didn't believe him." She dropped her space sac on the kitchen table and breathed a kiss on his cheek. "Who expected that Mrs. Zee could even knit a houseman out of a Supertrooper?"
Shane laughed out loud. "She would transform the Queen of the Crown into a cleaner if you let her. Do you have the ATT?"
"Yes, of course. Do you think you're already that far?"
"Give it to me."
"And your noodles?"
"Can wait." He took the pan off the heat, folded out the sensor, and inhaled deeply through the apparatus insert, then exhaled strongly through it and waited five minutes in complete silence. Then...
"Yeeeehaaaa!!!" He flung his arms around her neck and whirled her through the room till they nearly collided with the cupboard. "It's over!" He looked with glowing eyes at her. "Remove the block."
"We should wait a little longer, if–"
"Remove this damn block!"
She ignored the growl in his voice, concentrated and sensed for the old barriers... "Done. But I don't know if it worked."
"Did you transfer some energy to the implant?"
"About an eighth. I can't give more."
"Will be enough!" With a jerk he slammed his hand flat on the red-hot cooking plate.
It sizzled. She felt sick at the smell. "Are you ins–?"
His bio defenses glowed and replaced the burned flesh. "Everything's fine." He moved his fingers in a short test and began to laugh wildly. "It's all over now!!!"
She came towards him with wobbling knees, suddenly leaned against him. "Never do that again! Never again! Do you hear me? You frightened me to death. What if it hadn't worked...?"
"Then I'd be entitled to a disability pension." He held her tightly, raised her chin with his hand, and looked very seriously at her. "I had to know. Now. Immediately. It was the fastest way. And injury correction is a pure reflex. If something works, then that's that."
"Still. You..."
He lowered his head, then met her eyes again. "Never forget what I am. We can't afford that."
She laid her head on his shoulder. "I know. But I can't feel differently..."
He watched her, felt the slight trembling in the body beside his and recognized that he had to distract her. He turned and grabbed with one hand for his pan. "Hey. Do you want to eat with me? But it's hot."
"Yes." She sniffed and straightened up. "I won't let a chance slip to taste something you've cooked."
He shoveled noodles covered with spice powder into a bowl and put it on the table. "How long can you stay?"
"Till tomorrow afternoon. The ambassador can't hide my absence for longer."
"At least now I understand what Mrs. Zee meant when she said it was really unlikely that I'd get bored during the two days she and her children are staying with her husband at the capital." He smiled challengingly.
Niko giggled. "Don't carry it too far, Shane. First you have to get used to your new old abilities again before I let you that close to me." Her giggling turned into laughter when he managed a half-serious offended growl. "I've got the things you asked for. Likely we won't have that much time." She helped herself to a moderate portion of noodles. "The ATT is obvious, but what do you need DNA profiles for? Have you found something out?"
"Yes. But you won't like it." He piled some slices of fresh toast and a glass pitcher of water on the table and sat down. "Later."
She took a forkful of noodles, chewed, swallowed... "Hmm, not bad at all–" She started to cough heavily.
He gave her a glass of water. "I said it's hot."
She drank and blinked the tears away. "That isn't hot. That's nearly tear gas. What do you call it?"
"Spicy Noodles."
"The understatement of the galaxy. What's in it, exactly?"
"Fenugreek seed, cayenne pepper, ginger, cardamom, coriander, cloves, mace, hot paprika, pimento, black pepper, mustard seed, and turmeric. The vegetables are only a carrier to get the spice powder onto the noodles."
She coughed, hearing the recipe. "You should take out a patent for it as a chemical weapon."
"Maybe I'll do that." He ate with appetite. "But it tastes better than VX."
"Do you know yet what's behind this file STPOL?" They sat at the living room table, on which heaps of printouts, readcubies, and an old laptop covered with a lot of stickers above the Kirwinian labelling struggled for places. "Doc guessed a planned police unit."
Gooseman shook his head. "S-T-P-O-L: Super-Trooper-Project-Object-Listing."
"You mean this is a list of the equipment used in Wolf Den?"
"No. It's a table of the STs."
"What–"
"Look here." He presented her a readcuby printout. "I've condensed the data, chosen some of the more than 1.6 million sets, and made a combined printout."
She scanned it. "That doesn't mean anything to me. What do the names stand for?"
"'Object ID' is the gene set, which is numbered continuously. 'Incept' means the date of preparation, and 'Decant'..." He hesitated for a moment, then continued coldly, "is what corresponds to birth for people like me."
"You mean all these numbers stand for..." she stared at him in amazement.
"Yes. Gene sets. Possible or real STs."
"But there were thousands," she whispered, remembering the size of the original file.
"More. At least 1,643,453."
"How do you get that?"
"ID's were numbered continuously," he said calmly. "That's mine. And only if they stopped with me, which I don't really believe."
She hid her shock by looking again at the printout. "That can't be true, Shane. You were seventeen when you joined our unit. Therefore you must have been born in 2069. After this 1,643,453 was de– decan..."
"Decanted in 2067. I know." He smiled cynically. "Look under 'Status.' – We were considered alive only when we proved ourselves. Before that, they didn't even make the effort to give us names."
"What's HSS-only?"
His mouth twitched. "Homo sapiens sapiens only. The STJ didn't connect with the carrier-DNA in that case."
"You mean...?" She didn't dare to say it aloud.
He did it for her. "They were normal babies, Niko. Unable to survive in the project."
"Gods." She scanned the table again. "What do the letters by the dates in 'Status' mean?"
"V means 'viable.'" He snorted sarcastically. "Within the realms of the STP, that means on interstellar battlefields or in hell! A means 'abandoned' and L 'loss.'" When she only stared at him with eyes wide: "Those who were killed in the training or wounded so severely that a full recovery would be unlikely."
"You don't mean that... do you?"
"There are no invalid STs, Niko," he said flatly. "A's and L's went to GTP." He knocked with a fingernail on the printout. "It's clearly shown by 'Use.'"
She clenched her hands to suppress the trembling. "Xanadu's Star. They really used embryos for..."
"Yes." He clasped her suddenly cold fingers and held them tight. "And with completely developed babies, children, and older STs. Durhardt was transferred in May 2084. He was already eighteen then... And we both know what must have happened to him there." He gave a bitter laugh. "I've gone through a part of it."
"Wheiner took something that looked like a grenade out of LongShot." She shivered, thinking how close Goose had been to death. "I had a look at the tapes before I made the copies I sent you. But I didn't have a chance to find out whether or not it was filled with gas."
"It was." Goose pushed a still frame print over to her, pointed at the object in Wheiner's hand. "That's a carrier-3. Those things are only used for battle gases. Once they're triggered they disintegrate within five minutes after the contents have streamed out."
"No traces."
"And no warning in the field that a gas like Genomtoxin was released."
"I could search for his psionic image in the ventilation as I did with the thugs."
"Wheiner isn't stupid enough to do this kind of thing himself. And apart from that–" He looked forcefully at her. "Niko, I want to get Wheiner for the GTP, not only for the attack on me."
She looked up, met his eyes. "Maybe we can finish the puzzle before I have to go back."
"Let's give it a try. Here, this is the pattern I've made so far from the information."
"Then we should continue with it. Let me have a look..."
"What makes you say that date for the start of GTP?"
"The first transfer was on the fourth of November, 2066."
"Wheiner's speech before the BWL was in April of the same year. It fits."
Gooseman noted it in red on their diagram. "The question remains of why Negata went to GTP."
"Wheiner paid for the brain unit." Niko dug up the certified printout of the tax reports. "Here and here. Do you see? He even deducted it."
"You think the senator blackmailed Negata?"
"I wouldn't put it past him. Following the pattern: Either you work for me as I like or I want my hardware back."
"Fits in." Another note. The sheet was slowly filling with his handwriting.
Niko overviewed the references. "There must be a lot of dirty laundry between Walsh and Wheiner."
"Yep." The cynical half-smile was painfully familiar to her. "I guess I'm part of it." He pointed at two of the notes and then tapped on the printed GTP file. "Natural DNA sequences are the only ones this infernal stuff doesn't attack."
"Are you sure?"
"I've done almost nothing but read and learn in the last eighteen months, Niko." He grimaced. "Because it was the only thing I could do to keep me from cracking up. The file says Genomtoxin splits the standard fill sequence that's used for the inactive parts normally cluttered with evolutionary garbage in natural DNA. If I understand only a tenth of what's said in all those schoolbooks, then this SFS is nothing but continuous repetition of a short sequence of useless code. And it's that fill sequence that Genomtoxin cracks. That's why it affects STs but not normals."
"But you are an ST."
"Obviously not only – otherwise I'd be dead."
"That's why the DNA profiles?"
"Aye. There weren't many people with access to the gene sets and the ability to change them."
"Do you really reckon it's Walsh?" Niko frowned at the note.
The cynical strain around his chin increased. "It would explain a lot. Especially if Wheiner got wind of it."
"How could that have happened?"
Gooseman shrugged his shoulders. "He had Sawyer's files confiscated. And Sawyer and Walsh cooperated closely at Wolf Den." He looked to the side, avoiding her eyes. "And it would be an as-wide-ranging manipulation of a high security project as the release of the enhancer into the barracks' ventilation, and therefore the ideal contra-blackmailing."
"You really mean–?"
"It looks like there's a kind of stalemate between them, or else I'd already be in the cryocrypt."
"What did Wheiner do?"
"He caused the Wolf Den Riot."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am. But I can't prove it." He laughed bitterly. "Limited civil rights."
Niko's comment was as unladylike as it was crude.
"You're damn right about that, girl. But do you really believe a man like Whining Eric would forget to cover himself?"
"According to your notes, he treated himself to a second capital crime: Here, in September 2087, the theft of Batch 22 – whatever that is – from LongShot."
"Biological weapon, absolutely lethal." He raised his hand when she opened her mouth. "Don't ask me."
"And why wasn't he called to account for that?"
"Only three people knew about it: Walsh, Negata and I. – Why Walsh and I didn't talk is clear: the same reason as with the riot. And Negata... Just have a look at the latest file Doc dug up about the GTP. It dates from...?"
"September 2087! Then Negata blackmailed Wheiner to free himself." Exhausted, she leaned back. "What a horror show."
"It's charming, isn't it?" he grinned sarcastically.
"How can you laugh about it?"
"I survived seventeen years in Wolf Den," he answered dryly.
She yawned. "Sorry, didn't get much sleep at BETA because I had to organize your stuff, and I had cockpit duty on the flight to Kirwin." She stretched. "We still have no really proven connection between Wheiner and GTP."
He snorted in disgust. "I know. And there's something else: If these natural sequences in my DNA are really from Walsh, Wheiner is going to slip right through it again."
"Why?"
"Because the first question from the BWL would be: Why aren't you dead? And I'd have to answer."
"You'd have to put the commander's head on the block."
"And my own, too. Walsh reached most of the arrangements for me." He added much more faintly: "And probably also saw to it that they were kept. I think we better don't ask how."
"Still, if Wheiner knows that you aren't solely an ST," she yawned again, "and he knew from the GTP that the stuff kills only STs, then why..."
"He must have hoped it would work." He saw her lay her head on her folded arms. "Was his best damn attempt so far." Her eyes had fallen shut. A strand of hair moved in the rhythm of her breath before her face. "But he didn't take into account your presence and that help would come so fast because of you," he whispered roughly and pushed the strand back without waking her. "Thank you isn't enough for a life... for no one's... not even for mine."
Somebody kissed her softly on the temple. "Thank you for a breathtaking night." She blinked and met two laughing green eyes only a few centimeters away. He lay on the quilt next to her, propped on his arms, and watched her. "I'd have let you sleep on, but it's nearly 1400."
"Why am I...?"
He frowned and got up. "I've heard before about post-orgasmic amnesia, but don't you think you're going over the top with it?"
"We–" She interrupted herself as she came fully awake and threw the pillow at him. "Bastard! Nothing happened at all!"
He only just escaped the missile and grinned. "Touchdown. You fell asleep around 0630 this morning at the table. I thought the bed would be more comfortable for you."
"You're unbearable!"
"Thank you. It's a long time since somebody called me that."
"What did you really do while I was asleep?"
"Make new drawings?"
She snickered. "You won't catch me again. Seriously now."
"Since Doc is in on this now I may have a solution on how to get back."
"Really? Do tell."
"Yes. But Doc would have to hack into the BETA mainframe, and I need a proper uniform – otherwise it won't work. And the ambassador has to join the ruse."
"Zozo?"
"Zeezo would be better. But he's risked so much already. I guess he won't stop at a hypercom cable now..."
"Do tell – now!"
2094-05-30 Local Time 1503
Planet Kirwin
Day 698
"Gooseman." Zeezo's glider came to a halt next to him as he stopped in the middle of the way. The ambassador threw a big envelope over to him. "The analysis you asked for just arrived. I thought I'd bring it over to you personally when I picked up my children." The Kiwi winked. "And I like your idea. We'll do it that way. I'll order Zozo to the seed show on Kirwin at the beginning of next month, then he can bring you the uniform." Zeezo activated the repeller field again and laughed. "I'd always thought the STs were dangerous because of their physical strength, but I don't want to see you on the Board."
Gooseman waved briskly with the envelope. "Don't worry, Ambassador. There're things even an ST won't do."
His movements were easy and fluent again. Though the implant wasn't charged, his bio defenses intervened in his body's behavior, correcting, increasing. Gooseman ran effortlessly on the path he'd find with closed eyes in the darkness by now. The memories of Wolf Den caught up with him. The knowledge began to move up on him. It was useless to speed up...
...a name: Mikhal; a face: almost-black eyes, light brown skin... He was a BDC just like me, only ten days older – counted after decantation, not the first sorting...
He remembered. The images ran next to him now.
...Killbane, who attacked Mikhal. Mikhal, who beat back in despair and dodged away. And who left the training ground without trying to start a counterattack. Mikhal, who always made only one or at most two transformations a day and most often only transformed head, chest, and a hand. Mikhal, on whose coverall stood a bright red A instead of the usual V next to the ID number, one day after the guards in their room lit up the tree with the colored lights. And who disappeared four days later...
He suppressed a shudder.
A stood for abandon. None of us knew what that A really meant. But I know it now. I got a foretaste of the death that awaited those with an A – if they were lucky. Genomtoxin is called Substance 46,652. If the labelling in the GTP was done in the same scheme as at Wolf Den, that means 46,651 substances that were dismissed for being too ineffective. 46,651 substances... if only 1 percent of those were tested with STs, that's about five hundred series of tests... How many had to die per series? How slowly? What happened to those who didn't die immediately? How many died a wretched death just during the tests for finding the optimum dose? And how does it have to be given? There wouldn't be any answers to this...
Between November 2066 and July 2084 about 40 percent of the gene sets were transferred to the GTP, starting with a nearly three-year-old girl they'd named Vampyreia. One of them was Mikhal... The file doesn't even contain his name any longer, as if he'd never existed, wiped out – erased – like Mikhal himself. 40 percent of the gene sets... Vampyreia's number was around 8,000... There had to be nearly 700,000 victims...
He stopped, pressed his hands on his sides, remembering a terrorizing feeling, and suppressed a choking. Even if most of them didn't end up in the test chambers... What happened to them? There are no cryocrypts that large... He remembered the third variant of entry in the 'Use' column, a simple line: No longer usable. He closed his eyes, his fist clenched around the envelope in his hand. I'm one of them. Somehow... The answer in here will decide whether or not someone will sit in judgement over these murders. The envelope in his fist rustled. But it's no use to die with them... It won't change anything – I'm an ST... I'm one of those they call monsters.
No answers...
He had locked the door behind him and closed the windows. He didn't need any disturbances now. A decision waited in this envelope... Almost furious, he tore it open, read over the analysis: 0.49%... 1.10%... 0.09%... 0.98%... 49.9% on the last profile.