“That,” said the LPC, sounding impressed, “is a Thek cathedral. It’s big enough inside for this whole shuttle, and it lasts until they’re through. The Xenos think they’re linking minds. Humans who have been in one don’t talk about what happened.”
“Humans get drawn into one of those things?” someone asked, clearly unsettled by the notion.
“If a Thek calls, you come,” replied the LPC.
“How would you know a Thek wanted you?”
“Oh, there’s evidence that the Thek recognize individual humans from time to time…”
“Their time?” a wise guy quipped.
“It does look a lot like the Academy Chapel right now,” said Sassinak softly. She didn’t think this was a time to be clever but people reacted differently to something they couldn’t quite understand.
“Most people think that. You’re lucky to see one, you know. Just try to keep out of one, if you’ve got the option. No one says ‘no’ to one Thek, let alone a whole flotilla.”
“Does anyone know more about them than the Academy tapes?”
“Did you take Advanced Alien Cultures? No? Well, it’s not that much help anyway. An allied alien race, co-founders of the Federation, we think. Wefts are one of their client races, although I don’t know why. They’re mineral, and they communicate very… very… slowly… with humans, if at all.” Although they were back in the shuttle now, the LPC kept his voice low. “Have a taste for transuranics, and they’re supposed to remember everything that ever happened to them, or a distant ancestor. Live a long time, but before they dissolve or harden, or whatever it is they do that corresponds with death, they transmit all their memories somehow. Maybe they’re telepathic with each other. For humans they use a computer interface or modulate sound waves. Without, as you can see, any mouth. Don’t ask me how; it’s not my field, and this is only the second time I’ve seen a Thek.”
Hours later, the Theks abruptly disassembled themselves and flew - or whatever it was - back into the darkening sky. The landing party, now thoroughly bored and stiff, grumbled back into action.
Sass followed them to the outcrop that had been chosen for primary sampling. They set to work as she relayed their results and comments back to the ship. Worklights glared, forming haloes at the edge of her vision as the dust rose, almost like smoke-haze in a bar, she thought, watching suited figures shift back and forth. Suddenly she stiffened, wholly alert, her heart racing. One of them - one of the helmeted blurs - she had seen before. Somewhere. Somewhere in a fight.
It came to her: the night of Abe’s murder, the night of the brawl in the bar. That same bold geometric pattern on the helmet had then been on the jacket of one of the street gang. That same flicking movement of the arm had - she closed her eyes a moment, now recognizing something she had never quite put together - had aimed something at Abe.
Rage blurred her vision and thought. She opened her mouth to scream into the corn unit, but managed to clamp her teeth on the scream. Abe’s murderer here? In a Fleet uniform? She didn’t know all the landing party, but she could certainly find out whose helmet that was. And somehow, some way, she’d get her revenge.
Through the rest of the time on planet, she worked grimly, determined to hide her reactions until she found out just who that was, and why Abe had been killed. She wondered again about the mysterious duplicated message to ‘Tenant Achael. Could that be part of the same problem?
Back on the ship, Sass made no sudden moves. She had had time to think about her options. Going to Fargeon with a complaint that someone on the ship had murdered her guardian would get her a quick trip to the Medical Section for sedation. Querying the personnel files was against regulations, and even if she could get past the computer’s security systems, she risked leaving a trace of her search. Whoever it was would know that she was aware of something wrong. Even asking about the helmet’s assigned user might be risky, but she felt it was the least risky… and she had an idea.
Partly because of the Thek arrival and conference, the LPC had permitted more chatter on the circuits than usual, and Sass had already found it hard to tag each transmission with the correct originating code, as required. She had reason, therefore, to ask the rating in charge of the helmets for a list of occupants, “just to check on some of this stuff, and be sure I get the right words with the right person.”
The helmet she cared most about belonged to Tenant Achael. Gotcha, thought Sass, but kept a bright friendly smile on her face when she called him on the ship’s intercom. “Sorry to bother you, sir,” she began, “but I needed to check some of these transmissions…”
“Couldn’t you have done that at the time?” he asked. He sounded gruff, and slightly wary. Sass tried to project innocent enthusiasm, and pushed all thought of Abe aside.
“Sorry, sir, but I was having trouble with the coded data link while the Theks were there.” This was in fact true, and she’d mentioned it to the LPC at the time, which meant she was covered if Achael checked. “The commander said that was more important…”
“Very well, then. What is it?”
“At 1630, ship’s time, a conversation on the geochemical sulfur cycle and its relation to the fourth stage of reseeding… was it you, sir, or Specialist Nervin, who said ‘But that’s only if you consider the contribution of the bacterial substrate to be nominal.’ That’s just where the originating codes began to get tangled.” Just as she spoke, Sass pushed the capture button on her console, diverting Achael’s response into a sealed file she’d prepared. Highly illegal, but she would have need of it. And if the shielded tap she’d put together didn’t work, he’d hear the warning buzz on her speech first. He should react to it.
“Oh - “ He sounded less tense. ‘That was Nervin - he was telling me about the latest research from Zamroni. Apparently there’s some new evidence that shows a much greater contribution from the bacterial substrate in fourth stage. Have you read it?”
“No, sir.”
“Really. You were involved in installing the new environmental system, though, weren’t you? I’d gotten the idea that biosystems was your field.”
“No, sir,” said Sassinak firmly, guessing where he wanted to go with this. “I took command course: just general knowledge in the specialty fields. Frankly, sir, I found most of that environmental system over my head, and if it hadn’t been for Chief Erling - “
“I see. Well, does that give you enough to go on, or do you need something else?”
Sassinak asked two more questions, each quite reasonable since it involved a period with multiple transmissions at a time when her attention might have been on data relay. He answered freely, seemingly completely relaxed now, and Sassinak kept her own voice easy. He was still willing to chat. Then she cut him off, making herself sound reluctant. Did she want to meet for a drink in the mess next shift indeed!
I’ll drink at your funeral, she thought to herself,and dance on your grave, youmurdering blackheart.
Chapter Six
Sassinak wondered how she could get into the personnel files without being detected. And could she find out anything useful if she did? Certainly Achael wouldn’t have “murderer” filling in some blank (secondary specialty?), and since she had no idea who or what had marked Abe for death, she wasn’t sure she could recognize anything she found anyway. Still, she had to do something.
“Sassinak, can I ask you something?” Surbar, fellow ensign, was a shy, quiet young man, who nonetheless used his wide dark eyes to good advantage. Sassinak had heard, through Mira, that he was enjoying his recreational hours with a Jig in Weapons Control. Nonetheless, he’d given her some intense looks, and she’d considered responding.