Dark as Day

26

Bat’s decision had been made weeks ago. Now, as the time for Ganymede departure grew closer, his reluctance to leave the Bat Cave on Pandora increased.

He wandered the length of the main chamber, seeing not so much the Great War artifacts that were collected there as the ones that were missing. Here was a cleared space for a life-support pod from the freighter Pelagic. Bat was convinced from fragmentary and scattered records that half a dozen of those pods still existed, floating somewhere deep in space with their human cargo. He, at least, was not persuaded that the cargo was dead. In any case, a pod itself would be a rare treasure.

The next space was more questionable, its existence supported on a gossamer net of indirect evidence. If the rumored BEC sentience had been created, that event must have taken place only in the last few days of the war.

And where would it have gone? The continued existence of a Bose-Einstein Condensate of the required magnitude, sentient or not, called for temperatures sustained within a few billionths of a degree of absolute zero. No natural environment in the universe offered anything colder than the 2.7 Kelvin microwave background radiation. A BEC sentience would require its own artificially cooled setting, maintained perhaps deep within one of the natural bodies that floated beyond the orbit of Neptune. The Belt weapons-makers, Bat knew, had established at least two research labs far off in that outer darkness. One day, as the boundaries of civilization steadily widened, those facilities would be discovered. And then, if they contained a sentient BEC, its find would set off an unprecedented bidding battle among Great War collectors — unless the sentience was able to argue its own case for continuing independence.

The third shrine-in-anticipation was reserved for Nadeen Selassie’s unknown master weapon, existence unproven and nature unknown. Bat was staring at the empty space and seeking to imagine its contents when Mord’s individual signal sounded through the chamber.

“I will be with you shortly.” Bat could communicate orally with outside callers from anywhere in the Bat Cave, but visual displays required his presence in one of the two communications centers. “This is fortunate timing. In eight hours I leave Pandora for a trip to Ganymede.”

“Which you swore you’d never be going back to.” Mord’s single sniff was the equivalent of a dozen cynical comments.

“A certain flexibility of outlook distinguishes the superior mind.”

“Right. Didn’t you tell me a few weeks ago that genius is distinguished by the power to focus on a single idea for months or years?”

“The superior mind is one able to encompass simultaneously a number of inconsistent facts and theories.” Bat had reached the big padded seat. He settled into it with a grunt of contentment. This answered one question. Whatever else was left behind on Pandora, the seat at least went with him. “Is this a social visit, or do you report progress?”

“Anybody who paid you a social visit would take vacations on the Vulcan Nexus.” Mord’s squint-eyed glower filled the display in front of Bat. “I’ve found out some stuff — and it wasn’t easy. I had to wriggle through fancy firewalls and data security systems. Want to know about the secret sex life of Earth’s head of economic planning?”

“I do not. As for your difficulties, nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Did you locate the medical records for the children rescued from Earth’s northern hemisphere, in the months or years following the end of the Great War?”

“Patience, patience. If that’s all I had, I’d have sent it to you by regular mail. Yeah, I got the med records. A few hundred kids were in the right age group, but none of them was what you’d call normal. Most of ’em had seen their families burned or blown up or eaten, and they’d all been through hell. Standard therapy was to blank out those memories, and you can see why. But that, and the lack of records, makes it impossible to trace medical history back to before they were found. The medical records after they were found are not much help, either, because Earth was still coping with close to eight billion dead. Nobody had time for, elaborate examinations of the living. The displaced persons’ camps counted arms and legs, made sure the kids were breathing, and that was about it.”

“A dead end.”

“I told you, if it stopped there I’d have sent a postcard. It doesn’t. Since I was inside the data banks, I decided to go the other way — forward in time. As you might expect, services on Earth got better over the years, and all the kids who’d been DP’s grew up and had regular exams and medical treatment. I can transfer full genomes on every one of them, if you want to download.”

“I think so.” Bat slowly nodded. He was sitting motionless, eyes closed. “To the Seine terminal. I will arrange for their subsequent storage in the Keep. Please continue.”

“A fair number grew up physically damaged or mentally freaky, and a few died from long-term after-effects of the war. But not one of them showed anything that linked them to the Heraldic asteroid, or to Nadeen Selassie. They merged into the rest of Earth’s population, and those that could took normal jobs. By the time I came within five years of the present I was convinced I was going nowhere, but what’s time when you’re having fun? I kept barreling along to the end. And guess what? In records less than three months old, I finally hit paydirt.”

“Anomalies?”

“Make that a singular. One anomaly — but a biggie, way out beyond your four-sigma cutoff. A couple of DP kids, adults now, had been working as low-level helpers, nothing special, on a Global Minerals’ methane-mining platform. They’d been there ten years or more, but recently they took it into their heads to apply for jobs in the Outer System. The woman’s idea, I suspect, because the man shows up in the records as a little bit slow and more than a little bit strange. So they take the tests, and scrape through, and now the man starts to look more interesting. He can predict the outcome of hydrodynamic systems, particularly planetary atmospheres, that are complex enough to push computer models to their limits. Doesn’t know how he does it, says he dreams it — and he draws the results.”

“Not unique.” Bat was unimpressed. “History records autistic children and adults with that same ability. Predicting the meteorological behavior of an atmosphere falls far short of Nadeen Selassie’s planet-destroying weapon. I doubt if it satisfies the four-sigma criterion.”

“Hey, you asked for oddities. I’m giving oddities, now you want more. But I’m not done. Hear the rest before you talk sigma levels. The man’s name is Sebastian Birch, and I already sent his ID through to your data bank. After he and the woman pass the written tests — they operate as a team, by the way — they go up to Earth orbit for the physicals. She zips through easily, healthy and smart and perfectly normal. He seems healthy enough, but they run into a snag. His body cells are filled with tiny little balls, all identical and inorganic and apparently inert. They do nothing, but according to all the medics they shouldn’t be there. Nobody has ever seen anything like ’em. They removed a whole batch of them as samples for the files. Are we at four-sigma yet?”

“There, and surpassing it.” Bat’s eyes were wide open. “Mord, this is exactly what I was hoping you might find. Can you send me full details of the tests performed, together with the complete set of results and comments?”

“Doing it while we talk. The comments won’t do you much good, though. They all amount to, What the hell gives here? But I’m still not finished. The medics don’t know why Sebastian Birch is full of these gizmos, but since they don’t seem to be harming him or anyone else the medics give the okay: Birch and the woman, Janeed Jannex, are free to continue to Ganymede.”

“Ganymede? These people are on Ganymede?”

“They are — right where you’re going to be, a few days from now. But they almost didn’t make it. You’re the System expert on tapping transportation records, so I’ll only give you the bare bones and you can dig out the details for yourself. Sebastian Birch and Janeed Jannex made the trip out aboard the OSL Achilles. When the ship was doing the traditional Jupiter swingby for velocity-shedding, Sebastian Birch took it into his head to go outside — into Jupiter’s upper-level atmosphere. He was working on the hatches when they found him and stopped him. No explanation offered. Are we at four-sigma yet?”

“At it, and far beyond. Mord, this is extraordinary. What does it signify?”

“Hey, you’re supposed to tell me. I’m just a high-level Fax, you’re the one with the bulging brow and the monster mind. You ask for oddities, I give you oddities. But don’t ask me to tie this to Nadeen Selassie, or the ‘dark-as-day’ weapon that’s supposed to destroy the solar system. So far as I’m concerned, all we’ve done is find a human being who could have arrived on Earth at the right time, and who happens to have a very peculiar body and brain. Making sense of that is your job, not mine. What’s your explanation?”

Bat sagged down onto the padded chair, his bulk overflowing the edges. He rested his elbows on his well-padded chest and cupped his chin in his hands. “It is unnecessary to goad me. I have no explanation, as you smugly realize. Do you have more information?”

“Not a scrap.”

“Then we should conclude this meeting. I must think.”

“Suits me. I don’t want to stay too long, anyway.”

“My apologies if you are offended. Your presence is normally welcome at any time, but this is an exceptional situation.”

“Hey, it’s not you I’m worried about. I don’t like to stay any place too long. I said it before, and I’ll say it again: something’s hunting me out there, and it’s closing in on my tail.”

“Would you prefer to leave the distributed Seine network completely, and reside within the Keep? You will be safe here, and the Keep will maintain its integrity as a protected unit even in my absence.”

“Nail. I’ve been inside, it’s boring as hell. Out in the Seine it may be risky, but there’s a billion interesting sites to explore. Meantime, so long. I’m out of here. I’ll visit you on Ganymede.”

Mord nodded, and the image vanished from the display.

Bat did not move. New information normally served to clarify an issue. In this case, discoveries seemed to add a new layer of confusion.

True, he now had a name and a place. But if Sebastian Birch were in fact connected to Nadeen Selassie and her lost weapon, that weapon could not be biological since Birch had lived with other humans for more than thirty years and no one had suffered harm. Also, the weapon should not be biological. It was supposed to do more than kill life; it was designed to destroy a whole planet.

And yet there were the mysterious specks of matter found within Sebastian Birch’s body. If they lacked a biological or chemical action, what remained? Only, perhaps, something in the realm of physics.

Bat sat motionless as the minutes and hours ticked by. Finally, the time for planned departure from Pandora was only an hour away. He rose, reached forward, and placed a call. After a few seconds, a woman’s sleepy voice said, “Yes?”

“My apologies for disturbing you. It seems I was given a wrong ID.”

“Great. It also seems to be the middle of the night.”

“So it is.” Bat was unfazed. “I am attempting to reach Alex Ligon.”

“Who is calling?”

“This is Rustum Battachariya.”

“Oh. He’s asleep, but I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. Hold on a second.”

After a few moments, Alex’s voice said, “Huh?” He sounded not only three-quarters asleep, but perplexed.

“This is Bat. We have not spoken since your visit, but am I to assume that your family is still interested in obtaining the use of Pandora as an operations base within the Saturn system?”

“Extremely interested. If there are any terms on which an arrangement might be made, we would like to discuss them.” There was an unintelligible mutter of complaint in the background, followed by Alex’s faint, “I know it is, Kate. And I know I promised. But this may be the only chance.”

Bat cut off the background chit-chat with, “I see possible terms for an arrangement. First, however, a question: does Ligon Industries employ qualified teams of experimental physicists and chemists?”

“Very much so.” Alex now sounded surprised. “For some of the business ventures that we are in, top-flight research teams are absolutely essential. A project like Starseed-Two would be impossible without them.”

“Good. That is as I expected. One more question, or more properly a statement: Ligon Industries has ways of obtaining access to facilities and materials that are normally unavailable — do not attempt to deny this, since I already have good evidence of it.”

“I wasn’t about to deny it. Certain members of my family make it a boast. Is this connected to your previous question?”

“Very much so. I wish you to obtain access to a set of medical samples taken at a particular place and time, from a particular individual. I would then like a top team of your experimenters to subject those samples to a wide assortment of tests, and to ascertain their properties and behavior. You may tell your family that in return for this favor, I will make Pandora available to Ligon Industries as an operating base for helium-three mining from the Saturn atmosphere. Construction of your base on a part of Pandora far removed from my habitation may begin at once.”

“That’s wonderful.” Alex was fully awake. “But I need more details. Not just the name of the person and the location of the samples — you have to be more specific about the tests.”

“I will do my best. However, we float here on a sea of conjecture.” Bat hunched down again on his chair. “Listen closely. I am scheduled to leave Pandora for Ganymede less than one hour from now. We should meet and discuss this matter in more detail, but I do not wish you to await my arrival before beginning.”

“So this is urgent? You didn’t say that.”

“I do not know the level of urgency. However, certain recent events fill me with misgivings. Are you ready to record information?”

“It’s already being done.”

“Excellent. The medical samples were obtained from an individual named Sebastian Birch. He is presently on Ganymede, and it is possible that Ligon Industries will find it quicker and easier to obtain new samples of what we need from him directly. If not, however, someone must proceed as rapidly as possible to Earth…”

One month ago it would never have occurred to Alex that he could or should request a family meeting. Now he had called for two in two weeks. Beyond that, he had insisted that it take place early in the morning.

To Prosper Ligon that meant little — he would already have been up and working for hours. Not so for other family members.

Alex glanced around at the diminished assembly. His mother sat on his left, looking terrible. Her perfect skin had sunk into a network of fine wrinkles, her eyes were bulging and glassy, and an I/V dripped straw-colored fluid into her left forearm. Her apparent age had doubled in a few days. Alex had placed his arm around her when she was trundled into the’ room, and Lena Ligon’s shoulder felt as fragile as a bird’s wing.

But at least his mother was alive, and present. Great-aunt Agatha had died three days ago, while Cousin Juliana remained in critical condition. Even now Great-aunt Cora was at her bedside.

To Alex’s right, Uncle Karolus was hollow-eyed, but beaming across at Lena. No doubt the sight of her gave him happy thoughts of continued problems for Sylva Commensals that overwhelmed any sorrow at the death of his aunt. Tanya and Rezel wore a similar sleepless mask, which Alex suspected was common to him also. He and Kate had worked and played hard last night, then been awakened from sound sleep by Bat’s call and unable to drop off again. Hector, across from Rezel, was worst of all. It took more than mere lack of sleep to impose on that Viking vitality such a drawn and dissipated air. News of the family meeting had probably greeted Hector as he staggered home in the early morn.

Only Prosper Ligon, in position at the far end of the table, remained his usual self. He nodded down to Alex, and said, “This meeting is now in session. It is, I believe, appropriate that you speak first.”

Alex had made notes from the recording of Bat’s request, then followed Kate’s advice and destroyed them. “If I were going to ask my family to do something illegal,” she had said, “I don’t think I’d want anything down in writing.”

“It might not be illegal.” But Alex had taken the hint — after making sure that he had the important points committed to memory.

In fact, what Alex had to say was not complicated. The problem was that, despite a long family history of intrigue, bribery, and corruption, and despite everything that Bat claimed to know for certain concerning Uncle Karolus’ past sins, no one ever spoke of such things openly in family meetings.

Alex screwed up his courage, took a deep breath, and plunged in. He spoke for five minutes, summarizing Bat’s request and the conditions for his offer. There was total silence while he spoke, and afterwards.

At last Uncle Karolus said, “Let me get this straight. We obtain these medical samples, and we do these tests. In return, we get to install our Ops Center on Pandora and use it as long as we need it. Right?”

“Rustum Battachariya assumes that will be for no more than a year. Somehow he knows of the penalty clauses in our contract.”

“We don’t have to kill anybody, or pay Battachariya some enormous fee?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then I’ll say something I never thought I’d be able to say.” Karolus faced the whole table. “We have Alex coming up with this deal, and Hector all set to tie down Lucy Mobarak. I see hope for the males of the younger generation after all.”

Alex was not sure he was ready for compliments from Uncle Karolus. He said, “But I don’t know how we’ll obtain the samples. Somebody may have to go to Earth.”

“When the man himself is here on Ganymede, having another set of tests? Forget about Earth.” Karolus waved a dismissive hand at Alex and turned to the head of the table. “Prosper? If I guarantee that little bit of business, what do you say?”

Prosper Ligon had been quietly examining his own notes. Finally he nodded. “The matter will, of course, call for a family vote. However, there appears to be a certain serendipity of timing. One of our best physics research teams is available. It has been held in reserve, pending a go-ahead with Saturn operations for Starseed-Two. If the arrangement with the man Battachariya is consummated at once, there will still be an inevitable delay of weeks before the research team is needed. And even if we put our chief scientist, Bengt Suomi, in charge — which I strongly recommend and can arrange — the cost of complying with Battachariya’s request will be negligible. Therefore, I so move.”

Hector woke from an exhausted trance and said, “Move what?”

“Uncle Prosper says the Battachariya proposal looks good.” Karolus glanced around the table. “I’ll second. All in favor?”

The nods were casual and in Lena’s case feeble, but they came from everyone.

“Carried unanimously.” Karolus stood up. “We need to wrap this up as soon as we can, so we’d better start. Sebastian Birch, right, held in science research quarantine? This shouldn’t take long.”

“One moment.” Prosper Ligon held up a hand. “Before we adjourn, a moment’s silence for Agatha seems appropriate.”

“Of course. Respect for the dead.” Karolus sat down.

After a few seconds he said, “Right,” stood up again, and hurried out. Alex stared after him, then at the people remaining. He reflected that this was his family, his own flesh and blood. But he understood them not at all — and he was not sure that he wanted to.