Red frowned, staring at the image. “You saying he did his own sabotage?”
“Oh, come on!” one of the guards began, but was ignored.
“Seems possible, yes,” Ferret said to Red. “Possible, but…”
“That’s ridiculous!” Vazkez exclaimed. “He was clearly the one operating the control. If he had sabotaged it, that would mean he was—”
“Attempting suicide,” Red cut in. “And succeeding pretty well, too.”
“Heh,” Ferret said, straightening. “Red, maybe so? Because of us?”
“Because he was insulted? Lost status over dealing with—whoa, Ferret. You might have something, really might. Who spoke to us aboard their ship?”
“Purple and Yellow—ek, no! Yellow never spoke to us, to Purple only. Only Purple dealt with us, spoke with us. Sacrificial Purple?”
“Damn! They really do have a weird culture.”
“Bet me any dialog Ateil had with station was recorded. No shame or loss of status from talking into machine.”
“No bet, Ferret.”
Vazkez was looking helplessly from one to the other. “What the hell are you two talking about?”
“I need to be aboard that ship,” Ferret said.
“They won’t allow a human—”
“I am not human. We need to prove our theory, our innocence. And if we are correct, Ateil may try to block my path, but not one Ateil will speak to me.”
Of course they didn’t allow her to go alone. But even as she had said, no Ateil spoke to her. They blocked human guards without so much as looking at them; they ignored Ferret completely—and she shot on board before anyone could move. Ek, there was the exploded stuff, not yet completely cleaned.
If Purple could hide what he did, so can I.
Pretending to merely be staring in horror at what had been the console and a living being, she managed to subtly touch a finger to some of the residue, not letting herself think what might be getting on her fur, then turned to leave.
Sure enough, no one stopped her, or even looked at her. Why should they? Wasn’t she almost as inferior as a human? All she was doing, they must think, was looking at the scene of her “error.”
Back in the station, Ferret said, “Examine residue now. Before accidentally contaminated by me.”
She waited anxiously with Red. But anxiety vanished bit by bit. As Ferret had expected, the computers registered normal traces of engine fuel, microscopic scraps of shed Ateil skin cells—
“And traces of explosives,” Red finished triumphantly. “T-39, eh? Not the sort of thing mechs carry, and you can search our stuff if you have any doubts.”
“Suicide, indeed,” Ferret said. “Poor Purple. No way out else.”
“Ateil think humans are inferior,” Red explained to Captain Vazkez. “Not good enough even to kill. But someone had to talk to the mechs if the job was to get done.”
“Why Purple was the one, not knowing,” Ferret continued. “But it was he, only he, who lowered self to speak to us.”
“Maybe he would have been able to clean himself from contamination if it had ended there,” Red added. “But then I added to his problem by talking back to him. Getting him angry when he shouldn’t get angry at an inferior. Poor bastard never had a chance.”
“Only one way left to cleanse honor,” Ferret finished. “Kill self, blame inferiors, die with status restored.”
“Yeah. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t work. Ferret, want to bet me the Ateil get out of here as soon as they can get everything back on-line?”
“No bet. Captain Vazkez, thinking that someone, non-human someone, should send scholars, do more accurate studying, maybe, Ateil culture.”
Red nodded. “Good idea. Uh, Captain Vazkez? We free to leave?”
Vazkez opened his mouth, shut it again, then said helplessly, “Go on. Get out of here.”
Together, Ferret and Red walked out of his office, free mechs once more.
“Bet you business is really good for us after word gets out,” Red said.
“No bet,” Ferret retorted.
Josepha Sherman is a fantasy novelist and folklorist whose latest titles include Son of Darkness, The Captive Soul, the folklore title Merlin’s Kin, and, together with Susan Shwartz, two Star Trek novels, Vulcan’s Forge and Vulcan’s Heart. She is also a fan of the New York Mets, horses, aviation, and space science. Visit her at www.sff.net/people/Josepha.Sherman.
A Man’s Place
by Eric Choi
ALAMER-DAAS CORPORATION
Internal Circulation Only: 14 Earth Days
Category III Technical Specialist: Food Services
Location: Maryniak Base, Luna
Duties: On-site menu planning and implementation for staff, three shifts daily, adhering to UNSDA food guidelines, and in consultation with the company nutritionist and base physician. Accommodate local preferences and nutritional needs as required. Maintain inventory of food stores and rations for routine and emergency use.
Note: Experience with lunar environment preferred.
Jamie Squires was dicing onions for his omelet when the alarm sounded.
The klaxon blared through the small confines of the kitchen, synchronized with the flashing red light on the ceiling. Jamie put down the knife and, after a quick check to ensure everything in the kitchen was off, ran out into the mess hall. The diners must have stood up quickly from their seats, given the number of chairs knocked backward. Their faces were apprehensive.
“An X12 solar flare is in progress,” barked Laura Crenshaw, the general manager of Maryniak Base, over the intercom. “All personnel are to report to their designated storm shelters immediately.”
Billy Lu, Maryniak’s chief engineer, appeared in the doorway. His red cap designated him as the emergency warden for this sector. “All right, everyone, follow the signs, straight down the corridor. Let’s move!”
Jamie followed the crowd into the passageway. He tried not to think about the X rays and gamma rays that were even now going through their bodies. Traveling at the speed of light, they hit Maryniak at about same time as the warning from the space weather satellites at the L1 point. The imperative now was to get to the storm shelters before the arrival of the protons and heavy ions.
Joe McKay, the Shift Two foreman, stood at the entrance to the shelter. “Right this way, people!” he said, pointing to the hatch on the floor.
Jamie mounted the ladder and lowered himself down into the tunnel. Across Maryniak, personnel were gathering in six other protective chambers buried beneath the base’s larger modules. The structures and the lunar regolith were supposed to protect the crew from the incoming stream of solar particles.
There were already a dozen people in this shelter. Jamie found himself a spot on the bench along the chamber wall. Ten more descended the ladder, followed by Joe and Billy.
“Is that it?” Joe asked.
“Crenshaw’s on her way,” Billy said.
The base manager arrived a few minutes later. “All set?”
Billy did a head count. “That’s everyone for here.”
“Close it up,” Crenshaw ordered.
Joe climbed the ladder to close the outer hatch. Once he was back down, Billy slid the ladder up the tunnel before trying to close the inner hatch. The hinges creaked, and he seemed to be having difficulty engaging the latches, but he finally managed to seal the door.
“What’s our status?” Joe asked Crenshaw.
“We’re the last ones to lock down,” she reported. “All personnel, both in-base and EVA, are in shelters. The proton stream should be sweeping through here in about twenty minutes.”