The Engines of Dawn (24 page)

Nolan Porter gave him that condescending half-smile the Ainge were so famous for. "It's not an emergency that threatens the ship, if that's what you mean, Captain."

"That's not what I mean, Nolan, and you know it," Cleddman said. "Who's the new creature?"

President Porter bristled slightly and the half-smile lost what little warmth it had. "This is a member of the Enamorati
armaz-paava
class. They are bred with eidetic memories. They remember everything and are used as witnesses in legal proceedings."

"Since when?"

"Since we have known the Enamorati," Porter said. "They have always been around."

"That's horseshit and you know it," Cleddman said. "We've been studying their culture for, what, two hundred years? I've
never
seen anything
like
this guy before. And I don't think anyone else in this room has seen it, either."

The assembled group looked at each other, muttering under their breath. But Cleddman had read the situation correctly.

Porter started to speak, but Cleddman cut him off. He rose from his chair. "Look, maybe no one's ever explained this to you, Nolan, but most captains of spacegoing vessels like to know what they're hauling around. It makes them nervous because they don't know if they're hauling around something that might kill the crew and passengers and blow them up out in the middle of fucking
nowhere.
I want to know what this thing is and what is it doing here in body armor."

Several of the well-heeled Ainge gasped at the captain's effrontery.

"Captain, I can
assure
you-" the president sputtered.

Cleddman poked Nolan Porter in the chest. "I'm also bothered by the fact that half the Council is
not
here. So what's this all about? Have you finally decided to turn Eos University into a theocratic state or what?"

President Porter drew back. "If you are speaking of our guest here, it is absolutely harmless. The coloring of its e-suit has to do with its caste. It is
not
body armor."

"I don't buy that and neither do you," he said to the president.

The Kuulo raised his gloved hand. "Captain Cleddman, we have a very grave matter before us, I'm afraid. These other issues can be dealt with on another occasion."

The captain crossed his arms defiantly. "Then let's get down to business. What sort of hand job are you people giving me?"

Speaking carefully, the president said, "As you know, Captain, events over the last few days have taxed the Enamorati Compact and we believe that some sort of intervention is required in order to prevent further damage to our relationship with the Enamorati. I'm sure you can appreciate the fine line I am walking in trying to find a solution to our problems."

"What is it you're trying to say, Nolan?" Cleddman said bluntly. "We're all acquainted with the English language here. Except maybe them." He gave a curt nod toward the two aliens in their braces.

"Captain, we've had several students who we think managed a few days ago to witness the Enamorati's
Makajaa
ceremony, which would be in clear violation of the Enamorati Compact."

"As well as a possible infringement of Enamorati religious rites and rituals," Auditor Rood added, one row away.

Cleddman leveled his arm at Rood. "You aren't even supposed to
be
here, let alone open your mouth." The Auditor turned bright red, as if slapped. Cleddman turned to the university president. He hadn't heard about students violating the Enamorati Compact. If any had-and if the campus security or the faculty senate had proof of the transgression-the whole ship would have known about it by now. This was a dodge.

"Students will be students, Nolan," Cleddman said.

"Not
our
students, Mr. Cleddman," High Auditor Nethercott said, his voice cracking with barely suppressed anger. "Our students would never do such a thing."

"Captain, we are not talking about student pranks here," Nolan Porter said.

"Then what
are
we talking about?"

Bishop Nethercott stood up defiantly, his fists balled with impotent rage. "For your information,
Captain,
for some time now we've been tracking what we think is an eavesdropping signal or probe coming from Babbitt Hall. It's probed us; it's probed the Enamorati compound. And that we will not tolerate."

"What are you talking about?" Cleddman asked. Nethercott told him. "Someone's been remotely eavesdropping on our main Auditor station. It comes and goes, but we got a fix on it yesterday. The Kuulo Kuumottoomaa reports detecting the same phenomenon in their chambers. We
know
this is going on."

"If you can prove that this is happening," Cleddman said, "then I'll make every effort to locate the people responsible for it and bring them to justice. If you have that proof, then I'll back you all the way in court. If you don't and all this is about is retribution or harassment of non-Ainge students and faculty, I will throw all of you off this boat myself."

The room was his, and for several long moments no one said anything. "Do you have proof that this has taken place?" The two Ainge Auditors and the Kuulo considered one another.

Nethercott said, "We don't have it yet. We can only estimate the distance of the return signal. All we know is that it's coming from Babbitt Hall."

Cleddman nodded. "Well, we can find its source easily enough. Cutter Rausch might be able to come up with the equipment to locate the signal precisely. But I want neutral faculty or staff to witness the signal capture. This ship runs by law, gentlemen, not divine dispensation."

Cleddman turned back to President Porter. "What else is on your mind, Nolan?"

Nolan Porter pulled out two letters from one of his pockets. "Several days ago, I sent a data bullet back to the H.C. Plenary Council apprising them of our situation here. Their reply came in this afternoon."

It was Cleddman's turn to blink. "That's it, I take it."

"Yes, it is."

"May I see it?"

"Certainly."

Nolan Porter gave him one of the letters, newly printed from a recently uncompressed data bullet. It bore the official seal of the Human Community Plenary Council and was signed by Mason Hildebrandt the Seventh. The letter seemed authentic.

Which was impossible.

Data bullets were going out damaged, impossible to decompress, thus impossible to read. Mr. Rausch had precise records of all bullets sent to Eos. And as they had just recently discussed, no independent bullets had arrived intact.

Porter spoke as Cleddman read the letter. "The Council has given us permission to proceed to Wolfe-Langaard 4, once our new Engine is installed. There, the Enamorati will be able to determine for themselves if the Compact has been violated. They also need to compare their test results on the old Engine with test results on other Engine failures which they have at Wolfe-Langaard 4."

Cleddman raised his eyebrows. "Wolfe-Langaard 4? That's an eight-month flight, one way. What're Mom and Dad going to think when they get wind of this? For they will, you know."

"The Plenary Council will be meeting to consider that issue very soon," Porter said. "No one takes this lightly, I assure you, Captain Cleddman."

"And what are the students, faculty, and staff going to do while we're taking an extended vacation to Wolfe-Langaard 4?"

Here, the Kuulo Kuumottoomaa spoke. "We believe that your esteemed faculty will be able to fashion lesson plans that do not require your planetary stops. They can probably make up their lost work on Wolfe-Langaard 4 itself. It is a very habitable planet-the first extrasolar planet we settled when we first started traveling in space. It is the equivalent of your settlements on Tau Ceti 4."

"Mr. Kuumottoomaa," Cleddman said, "I don't think you should presume to speak for our faculty, unless you want a fullblown insurrection on your hands. That's the first thing. The second is that I'm not taking this ship anywhere until I see proof that the Enamorati Compact has been compromised. We're not going to make a long trip out of our way just because you
think
someone is probing your quarters or that some student
maybe
has seen the Engine being removed."

Nolan Porter drew himself fully erect, jutting out his chin. "Captain, what happens next on Eos will affect the rest of humanity. The Plenary Council is all too aware of that fact."

The university president held out the second letter, which Cleddman took.

Porter went on. "As you can see, Mason Hildebrandt has granted our request to take over flight operations of Eos until the crisis is resolved to the Enamorati's satisfaction. I'm very sorry about this, Alex, but the order has the H.C. Plenary Council's approval and you see that they've affixed their seal."

Cleddman read the second letter, now understanding why the two guards were left outside the command deck. It also explained why the other members of the Governors' Council weren't there with them in the Colonial Suite.

The letter, completely bogus, had placed him on administrative leave for a period ten months-the exact length of time it would take to reach Wolfe-Langaard 4.

He'd just been fired.

29

Those archaeology students exploring other parts of the mysterious Mound immediately chucked their own ventures across the roof of the "plaza" when young Gessner had announced his discovery. Those students climbing the sides of the Mound slid back down in a rain of shorn leaves; the others came running.

Julia, however, stopped them all from storming the entrance, plunging headlong into no telling what. "Hold on, people," Julia said. "Not so fast. Everybody back off."

"Thank you, my dear," Professor Holcombe acknowledged as he came up behind them. Holcombe seemed to have caught his breath and was no longer wheezing with even the simplest effort.

Two students helped young Gessner peel back the ivy curtain, tying it in place with a length of rope off to one side. Several shouldercams took all this in. Julia stood aside as Professor Holcombe approached the aperture. His flashlight came out and a long beam of white light surveyed the dark opening in the Mound.

With the fall of ivy-grass pulled back, they could see that the Mound was not made of compacted bone and dried cartilage, but had been constructed with tightly packed cobblestones of pinkish quartz composition. The entrance itself, they found, was an excavation, a tunnel six to seven feet in diameter. Someone had gone at the Mound in this one spot with pick and shovel.

"Grave robbers, you think?" Julia wondered out loud.

"Let's get some probes from the field kit," Holcombe said. "I don't want to walk into a giant Venus's-flytrap."

"But this place has been dead for a thousand years," one impatient student claimed. "What could be living here?"

"Booby traps last forever, son," Holcombe replied. "Let's do this by the book. Okay?"

Despite their disappointment, the students backed off and let the careful probing proceed.

Organic life-forms gave off various body odors or chemical residues of their metabolic processes. Holcombe, Bobby Gessner, and Julia ran several checks at the entrance to the tunnel, but found that the tunnel was dry as bone. This did not rule out dangers of a mechanical kind, but Holcombe was satisfied with their initial biotic scans enough to proceed.

"Bring the float lights," Holcombe said. Marji Koczan and young Gessner brought in several small anti-gravity lanterns. These would hover inches above the tunnel's hewn floor about every ten yards or so to mark the way.

The soft illumination in the tunnel revealed that the cobblestones were in fact made of an opaque and very hard pinkish glass, not rock-solid quartz as they first thought. Moreover, they were completely round.

"Do we know of any civilization that's used
round
bricks to build their pyramids?" Julia asked as she studied the ceiling.

"And what would be used to hold them in place?" Marji Koczan asked. "Glue?"

Professor Holcombe took out a small pick from his utility belt and teased a thin edge of chalky-white material from the matrix between the stones. "Aliens do alien things," Holcombe said slowly. "Who knows why they built this Mound?"

"Who knows why someone else would want to tunnel into it?" Julia asked.

Nobody spoke for several moments. Julia watched Holcombe study the further depths of the tunnel. Holcombe then said, "Wait here."

Everybody waited as Holcombe slowly walked to the end of the tunnel. He walked slightly hunched over because his head was inches away from the ceiling, and, Julia noted, he had turned his personal shield up slightly. He disappeared around a corner like a bear returning home to its own cave.

Julia, meanwhile, began examining the cobblestones in the walls. With her own pick, she coaxed out one of the cobblestones. It was remarkably light. It might even be hollow.

She held it up in the light. "This looks like one of the objects that alien had in his pouch. Remember?"

She handed the stone to Marji Koczan.

"Except that these are bigger," Marji Koczan said.

Professor Holcombe reemerged from his short jaunt to the end of the tunnel. "The tunnel is quite extensive. It goes on for several more yards and leads to a central chamber."

"Look at this, Professor Holcombe," Marji Koczan said. She held Julia's cobblestone before him. "Doesn't this look like those objects we found in that first alien's pouch?"

"It does," he remarked.

Julia noticed that Holcombe seemed pale. But that, she thought, might have been a trick of the light from the floaters.

"What do you think they are?" Koczan asked.

The archaeology professor seemed almost reluctant to answer.

However, just then, from behind them, back near the entrance to the cave, a student in the rear started shouting. "Dr. Holcombe!" The student pushed his way toward the head of the line. "Dr. Holcombe, you'd better take look at that storm outside!"

They hustled back to the mouth of the cave. Stepping out in the open they found three other students standing beside the hovering field kit, which had been left outside. The students were staring off to the ominous south.