“Not yet The Ahvyn’s detected some activity at the end of detection limits, but that could be interference from the singularities. They’re closer than we had calculated.”
“Or it could be a CW or Middle Kingdom fleet?”
“Or the Covenanters or my aunt Wauneta. That’s not the only problem. Henjsen has an artifact She thinks it should come up here. So does the captain. I’ve got the crew stripping shuttle two.”
“The artifact is the only problem?”
“No. We can’t take a chance with the people, either. We’ve been pulling the team off Danann, quietly, but the artifact is something special. I’ve never heard Henjsen so excited.”
“How did she find it?”
“She didn’t. The artist—Barna—he found it through some sort of artistic sense or analysis. Henjsen blasted me when I insisted she give him a slider on oneday. She’s forgotten that. When I told her she needed to evacuate, she insisted we bring up this artifact. I don’t think she wanted to tell me about it. Not yet.”
“How big is it?”
“It’s not the cubage; it’s the mass. It’s almost five thousand kilos. Henjsen says it only ought to mass five hundred, from its size. It doesn’t.”
“What the frig is it?”
“Barna found it. Henjsen claims he says it’s not art, but a technological device that’s artistic in form. The scientists haven’t begun to figure it out, but it was in a place that suggests it was important Whatever it is, they can’t do more than they have down there. They think it’s inert.”
“Think?” We’d had steam explode out of frozen lakes near absolute zero, energy emissions that remained unexplained, and Morgan wanted a massive unknown alien artifact in the shuttle—or the Magellan?
“Neither the captain nor I feel we have that much time left here.”
“So we have to bring something back?”
“As much as we can. Lerrys has shuttle one full—science types and cargo.”
“Those AG traces aren’t your aunt Wauneta.” Looked him square.
“We’re not sure, but probably not, not from the dispatches the Owens brought If we wait until we are certain…”
“Everyone on Danann’s frigged.”
“There’s a good chance of it if we don’t get them off.”
Frig! Frig! Frig! Knew it had been a bastard mission from the beginning. “How soon will shuttle two be ready?”
“Another stan.”
“I’d better get started on preflighting.”
“Good. I’ve got a few more… difficulties to handle.”
He left without another word.
Bothered me. A lot. Morgan was brusque, but not that short. Meant other trouble that I knew nothing about I headed for the pilots’ locker area to get into my armor.
62
Fitzhugh
Much as I comprehended the urgency manifested by Commander Morgan, and much as I understood its necessity, assuming that it represented a military requirement, I still resented his summary dismissal, particularly when it had seemed likely that I might have been able to engage in a less formal conversation with Jiendra. Behind her own abnegation of verbosity, seemingly the obverse of my excessive semieloquence, I was convinced that there lay a personage of considerable depth, understanding, and wit. Yet for us to navigate through two sets of shoals, erected to protect each of us from the cruel uncertainty of the interpersonal interrelations so erroneously bearing the appellation of human nature, required time and patience, and the vicissitudes of our respective situations mitigated against the leisurely approach so necessary for us both.
More directly put, regardless of Morgan’s intent or situational urgency, irrational as the feeling was, I would have liked to have handled him as roughly as I had the saboteur steward. In that state of repressed anger, a return to my work space and any form of reasoned analysis would be less man productive.
Since Dr. DeLisle had suggested occasional returns for brief monitoring of my physiology, I made my way down to the Magellan’s sick bay by the ramps and not the lifts, trusting that the major would indeed be there. If he were not, I would have at least gotten some additional exercise, although I had begun to frequent the workout rooms once more.
As I supped into sick bay, through the main hatchway, I heard voices. One was that of Commander Morgan. I inunediately moved to one side of the passageway and dropped to the floor beside one of the slightly protruding supply bins, as if to check my shipboots, although the effect was to render me far less visible.
“… got a problem, and that makes it yours.” Morgan’s voice was low, but intense. “I need some special medical support.”
“What do you need?”
“We’ve got an agent on board. Another one, and he’s from a system that deep-conditions their people. I can stun him, but I need you to flush out whatever nanites and conditioners are in him.”
“Commander… we’ve got some of the latest med equipment here, but no D.S.S. ship is equipped to handle that.”
“You don’t think I know that? I’m asking you to come up with something that will give us half a chance to talk to this agent before his memories and personalities are flushed.”
“I might be able to do that on Hamilton. Here…” DeLisle’s voice trailed off. “I was pushing it to put Professor Fitzhugh back together.”
“You did. Now I need this, and I need it soon “
“I told you, Commander…”
“Our lives—your life—just might depend on it.” Morgan’s voice was hard. “We’ve got what looks to be a flotilla gathering just at the limits of detection range.”
That was not information particularly reassuring, nor something I wanted to hear, however much it did not especially astonish me.
“… do what you can to prepare. I’ll let you know when we’re bringing him down.”
“… not get your hopes too high, Commander…”
“Don’t set yours too low, Major. I’ll inform you.”
I stood up just before Morgan turned, like an ursinoid moving toward prey. His visage stiffened upon perceiving me.
“Whatever you heard, Professor, keep it to yourself.”
“I heard very little, Commander, except your telling Dr. DeLisle to prepare. Are we facing another attack in the imminent future?”
“That’s possible. I’d appreciate your keeping that to yourself as well.” Behind the words was a coldness verging on a threat.
“While I doubt that anyone would find that knowledge of great surprise, I will comply with your wishes.”
“My commands, Professor.”
“Those as well, Commander.” I met his eyes, and my orbs were as chill as his, and more adamantine. “Even though you are in no position to enforce them personally.”
He paused, just for a moment, then inclined his head and surged past me like a wave spent on an unseen reef.
Morgan had admitted the possibility of an another attack, and that admission was indicative that he wanted to conceal the matter of yet another agent aboard the Magellan. While I would have considered an approaching flotilla as a far greater threat than a single agent, it was manifestly apparent that Morgan did not, and his use of authority and personal presence on Major DeLisle reinforced the criticality involved with such an agent I would have like to have been clairaudient to have ascertained what about that individual constituted a threat of such magnitude.
Major DeLisle looked up, his cognitive functions focused elsewhere.