Singing the Dogstar Blues (5 page)

The Ledbetter suite stank of new plastic, that acidic smell that coats the back of your throat. It was mixed with a pinch of earthy cabling and a peculiar muskiness that I couldn't quite place. Then the lights came on. We were standing in a large hexagonal shaped lounge room.

‘Welcome Cadet Joss Aaronson. Welcome Dr Janeen Hartpury,' a smooth female computer voice said. ‘This unit is coded to the voices of Cadet Joss Aaronson and Cadet Mavkel. Environmental controls have been set at twenty-two degrees with a humidity level of fifty-three. Lighting is set to the equivalent of current levels of daylight.' The voice rabbited on about lighting preferences and program changes.

‘Is this going to happen every time someone walks in?' I asked Hartpury.

The computer answered.

‘The welcome facility is automatic, but can be shut down at any time.'

‘Then shut it down.'

‘Completed.'

Now I could place that musky smell. The Ledbetter suite was set up with organic computers. The two access consoles
were in opposite corners of the hexagon. A bio-tank was attached to each one, the organic gel heaving as it blended rainbow colours in a complex program. All that pulsating goo made me feel a bit queasy. Too bad you can't hide the stuff in some kind of casing, but without lots of light and air it dries up and dies.

The whole place was decorated in shades of Ledbetter's favourite colour: blue. Even the food dispenser was blue. I could just make it out in the eating area that opened out from the back wall of the hexagon. On either side of this section there was a closed door. Probably the bedrooms. I bet they were blue, too. Whoever decorated this building had no imagination.

‘The bedroom and console on the left have been modified for Mavkel,' Hartpury said. ‘There's also a specialised food dispenser for it too. Have a quick look round. Then I want to tell you about the research we've done.' She was smiling as though she had personally built the place.

I wanted to check out Mavkel's room, but you can't snoop properly with someone watching. That would have to wait. Instead, I walked over to the console on the right side of the hexagon. My console. As I approached the screen turned to face me. I feinted to the left. The screen swung with me. This machine was definitely state-of-the-art. As soon as Hartpury left, I'd have to check out its capabilities. The gel blurped at me. It sounded like a baby puking on someone's shoulder.

I dropped my duffel and took a look inside my bedroom. Finally, something that wasn't blue. The room was white with a single bed, a side table and one pale Ledbetter print. The room was big enough for a king-sized bed, but students only get issued singles. All in all it was a bit wishy-washy. The only bit of real colour was in the ensuite. The whole bathroom had been
moulded out of yellow plastic. That kind of yellow you pee when you've been taking too much vitamin B. At least it had a full sized bather. I hate cramming myself into a water-saver.

The food and living area at the back was straight out of one of Ingrid's home beautiful programs. I flicked over the choices on Mavkel's food dispenser. The names of the food had been translated into English, but I couldn't understand the descriptions. You've got to wonder though what Melch Daglon tastes like.

Hartpury sat down at the adjustable table, motioning me towards a chair.

‘What do you think of the place?' she asked.

‘It's okay. A bit too blue for my liking.' I sat down opposite her. Actually, it was brilliant compared to normal student quarters. Being the partner of the alien had some problems but it also had some major perks. Like the fact that I was still at the Centre. Without my Chorian partner, I'm sure Camden-Stone would have eventually kicked me out.

‘I think you could finally make a home here, Joss,' she said. ‘This is your chance to really find out what you're about.'

I shifted in my chair. Like I've said, I hate being analysed. I feel like one of those butterflies with a pin through its guts.

‘Lay off the psych stuff,' I said.

‘It's my job.'

I didn't smile back. She held up her hands.

‘Okay, let's just talk about Mavkel for now. We've been trying to get as much information as possible so you can get an idea of your partner.'

Finally, someone was going to fill me in on Mavkel. Camden-Stone's little chat had made me realise how little I knew about the whole deal.

‘Unfortunately we haven't been able to get much officially,' Hartpury said. She paused, looking down at the table. My smell-a-rat detector shot up and bristled.

‘Why haven't you got much?' I asked.

‘The Foreign Affairs department isn't being very helpful.'

‘Why not?'

She shrugged, but she was holding back.

‘Okay then. What do we know unofficially?' I asked.

Hartpury rubbed her hands together slowly, choosing her words.

‘I got talking to a Chorian at an official reception. Its name was Refmol. It told me that Mavkel is more or less an outcast because its birth pair was killed in an accident. Apparently if one birth-pair dies, the other is supposed to die too.'

‘It's supposed to suicide?' I asked. A suicidal partner wasn't going to be very useful to me.

‘No, I don't think so. I think it's more of a separation trauma. Refmol is some kind of Chorian medic. A Chanter. It was the one who saved Mavkel from dying and, from the sounds of it, started a huge controversy on Choria.'

What would it be like to have someone in your mind all the time and then suddenly lose them? I thought a hole had been blasted right through my middle when Louise left, but I've never had someone close to me actually die. Sometimes I've wondered what it would be like if Ingrid died, but the idea is too hairy. My brain always hits the panic button and jumps onto a new subject.

‘I don't think the Elders really know what to do with Mavkel,' Hartpury continued. ‘A Chorian has to be paired to be able to communicate telepathically. Since Mavkel no longer has a pair, it's cut off from the rest of them. It has to rely on
the spoken word — something the Chorians don't seem to very keen about.'

‘We get along all right with it,' I said.

‘The Chorian's think spoken language is very clumsy. Anyway Refmol let slip that they're not sure how the separation has affected Mavkel's mind. I think that's why the Chorian Elders think Mavkel is the best ambassador for this mission. It already understands in some ways what it is like to be a human: limited to its own mind and forced to communicate with sound.' She sing-songed the last bit, imitating the Chorians.

‘They don't have a very high opinion of us, do they?' I said.

‘Let's just say they have a very high opinion of our time technology.'

‘Is that all you've got on Mavkel?'

‘That's about it. Most of the time we spoke Refmol was pumping me about you. Especially about your parents.'

‘Why?'

‘I don't know. Their bloodlines are pretty important to them. Maybe Refmol wanted to check out your pedigree.'

‘What did you tell it?'

‘Don't worry, I didn't say much,' she said. ‘I know you're a bit sensitive on that subject. You know when all's said and done, I think I trust Refmol more than some of those Foreign Affairs creeps. At least Refmol is friendly. Look, it showed me one of their hand greetings.' She took my hand in hers. ‘They seem to touch each other a lot more than we do.'

She spread out her hand pushing mine into a fist.

‘You've got to remember that they have two thumbs,' she said as she covered my fist with her hand, entwining our thumbs.

‘What's this actually mean?'

‘Refmol said it was a friendship clasp.' She dropped my fist. ‘That's about all I can pass on to you. There's more information, but it's on a need-to-know basis.'

‘You're kidding? You mean that's all the information I'm getting?' I shook my head. ‘This really burns. I'm the one who's going to be living with Mavkel. I'm the one who needs the information.'

Hartpury nodded.

‘I know. I know. But the government has blocked our requests over and over again.' She leaned forward. ‘I think they want you to report any information you find out about the Chorians.'

‘They want me to spy?'

This was getting severe. If they were into spying, this whole place was probably rigged for government eyes and ears. I'd have to find their little peepholes and plug them up.

‘Well, they call it fact collection,' Hartpury said, twisting her mouth into a half smile. ‘I think they don't know that much about the Chorians and it's driving them crazy.'

She was probably right and wrong. It was more likely the government knew a lot, but didn't trust its information. Answer: corroborate from a different, neutral source.

‘If you don't want to do it, you have my support,' she said.

‘I'll let you know,' I said.

Spying for someone else wasn't really up my alley, but it wasn't a bad idea to play along with them. There was also a chance I could get a bit more information out of them. Right now, the Hartpury well of information had dried up. I needed to get onto the Net.

‘If you don't mind, I think I'd like to unpack and get settled in,' I said, putting on my tired but valiant face. If I was lucky, Hartpury would think I needed ‘some space'. She took the bait.

‘Of course, you'll have a bit to do. You've got the rest of the day to settle in, like all the other students,' she said. ‘Are you coming to the first year cocktail party tonight?'

I shrugged. First I'd heard about it. Seems I wasn't on the top of the party list for my class.

‘I hope you come. It'll do you good to mingle with some of the others,' she said, standing up.

I grunted. Hartpury hesitated, as if to push the issue.

‘I'll see you tomorrow, Doctor,' I said, firmly.

‘Remember, I'm here to help you, Joss,' she said. She walked out of the suite. The front door closed.

‘Computer, lock entrance door. I don't want any visitors,' I said.

‘Entrance door is locked to all visitors.'

I'd have to change that computer voice. It sounded too much like Louise.

Louise would definitely not have approved of me snooping. I can still see that little wrinkle she used to get between her eyebrows when I did something wrong. Ingrid, on the other hand, would think it showed initiative. That was one thing I had in common with my mother. The ability to rationalise any situation. It's not surprising I'm so good at it. Ingrid is a master. I still can't get over the way she rationalised why Louise left us. Ingrid said it was all the fault of the company directors. Apparently, they were insisting she have a male partner for a while because her hetero audience percentage had gone down. They said it would bring the conservative belt back on board. All I knew was that Ingrid and Louise were fighting.
One night Louise yelled that she wasn't going to hide away while some testosterone pod jumped on for a publicity ride. She left soon after that. So did I. Boarding school number four.

Louise and my conscience would have to scowl in the background while I snooped. After all, a girl needs to be informed.

I had a tough choice on my hands. Play around on a state-of-the-art computer or sniff around Mavkel's room. The computer belched at me. It was a sign. First I'd download a bit of information, then explore the room.

The console of the organic computer was a new slimline large screen. I sat in front of it, pushing the VR hood to one side. I pressed my finger along the scan plate.

‘Would you prefer virtual, voice or keyboard recognition?' the computer asked.

Virtual was fun, but I always wasted too much time. I'd stick with voice. Then I had a nasty thought. Johnny Dirtbag, government agent, might be listening to all my conversations.

‘Keyboard,' I said.

The first thing I set up was a voice print data security lock so Johnny couldn't track my computer wanderings. It probably wouldn't keep him out if he really tried, but it might slow him down.

It was possible that this computer could check if there were any bugs in the suite. I typed in a request for a security schematic of the suite. Denied. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. It was a job for a spyder. I sent out the code that Lenny had made me memorise. Soon a spyder would contact me. Completely untraceable.

Next I requested two Net-wide searches: one on Joseph Camden-Stone/Daniel Sunawa-Harrod, the other on Chorians.

Finally I switched the computer to voice recognition.

The gel shivered into a rainbow as the organic started its scan of the world's computers. I could safely leave it to do its work while I tiptoed through Mavkel-land. I was almost out of my chair when the computer said, ‘Search completed. Three hundred and eight open entries. Fourteen retina sealed entries. Do you want further details of entries?'

Snork me gently. This thing was fast! I looked around the console and pulled open a nearby drawer. There must be some reading units around. I'd download this stuff and read it later. A stack of Readers clunked against the front of the second drawer as I pulled it open. Brand new and not even formatted. The university wasn't counting credit when it came to their Chorian guest. I slipped a Reader out of its pack and pushed it into the download slot.

‘Format Reader in Port A and download all of the open entries,' I said.

‘For your future information, this facility automatically recognises data transfer units and does not require port addresses,' the computer said.

Ouch, I'd just had my knuckles rapped by a computer.

‘Similarly, this facility automatically formats data transfer units. A full instruction manual for this facility is available on request.'

Double ouch.

‘Transfer complete. Please remove data transfer unit from Port A,' it said.