Forbidden the Stars (18 page)

The rules stated that he was not to enter the recreation room when the crew was off duty. Alex kept to his room, and only wandering the small area of the ship where he was allowed to be.

He was able to raid the ship’s computer files, but besides technical jargon and schematics of the ship, and routine logs and reports, he found no information about the organization that had taken such an acute interest in him. If Alex had not known better, he would have sworn they knew about his ability to go into computer files from a distance, and had taken steps to erase any trace or record of themselves.

The only break in Alex’s monotony was his daily physical examination with the Doc. He was a jovial man, and Alex enjoyed his company, although the Doc was the enemy. Alex quickly realized that the Doc was himself digging for information about Alex, dropping casual questions that seemed innocent enough.

How far away can you control an electronic device? What do you do all night while you are awake? Do you never get sleepy? What do you think about? Can you tell me if you have dreams? Not even waking dreams? Do you still feel fatigued? Any other symptoms?

Two thoughts occurred to Alex: first, this organization, while they knew more about him than anyone else on Earth knew, still had many gaps in their database.

For instance, they had information about his ability to manipulate electricity, and to cause computer files and programs to activate without physically touching the keyboard. For some reason, they thought this power to be singularly dangerous.

However, they had no idea about his ability to see beyond himself, to see outside the ship, and into the vast reaches of local space. He decided to keep this a secret; how it was going to help him, he had no idea, but if he had something they did not know about, it meant that he retained a certain amount of power over them.

The second thing that Alex spent many a night pondering was the ambiguous nature of the enemy. The captain and crew, although they had actively kidnapped him, and broke several laws in doing so, beheld Alex with total disregard. He had expected them to be mean, callous, and to go out of their way to cause him grief. As long as he did not get underfoot, and obeyed the rules set out by the captain the first day of his capture, the crew completely ignored him. They didn’t extend him any courtesies if they didn’t have to; but neither did they seek to harm him. He was a passenger, little more.

Then there was the Doc, who genuinely seemed to like Alex, although he was Alex’s captor, and obviously had an agenda he had not openly revealed to his patient.

It made thinking of them as the enemy that much more difficult; but to think of them of such, he was determined.

Perhaps it was easy to think they could fool a young boy; but Alex was no ordinary boy concerned with play. His parents had been assiduous in ensuring Alex’s education, and awareness of the world outside his family. There was always time for play, but after the lessons, although Alex often cheated and played first.

Now was not a time for play.

He decided he was not going to learn anything significant until they reached their destination, so every night when he was alone in his small room, laying back on the lumpy mattress with his eyes closed, he floated outside himself, outside the ship, to check their progress.

Alex wondered how they were going to circumvent the radar monitoring orbitals every country corporation used to control and check the flow of Earth-bound and space-bound flights. Anything larger than a two-meter meteorite was logged and traced. Surely, Alex’s kidnapping had been reported to all countries concerned with the Orcus project; and knowing the Earth Mesh grapevine, word would have leaked out. NASA would approach the United Earth Corporate and demand a strict traffic watch for any ship approaching Earth in the time window they calculated the kidnappers would return there.

It was a few days before final approach, as Alex learned from the Doc, so he would have to wait and see until then, as the Doc, when questioned, smiled and refused to reveal the captain’s plan.

Two days before the ship would reach Earth, Alex, using his extrasensory sight to watch the Earth becoming larger and larger against the backdrop of the immense starfield of space, was taken by a strange feeling. It was more of a certainty, an intuition.

Suddenly, he knew deep within himself—as assuredly as he knew his own name—that the ship was on a course that would take them past the Earth.

He thought back and recalled that not once had anyone said that their destination was Earth. Even when he had assumed it was so, and mentioned it, the doctor had not corrected him.

In his field of extraspacial vision, he saw the moon appearing from behind the horizon of the Earth.

Luna Station.

An independent port, owned by all, but accountable to none.

The perfect hiding place.

__________

Quantum Resources, Inc. :

Toronto :

Canada Corp.:

Calbert Loche knocked
tentatively on the Director’s office door.

When Michael looked up, Calbert raised his eyebrows, silently asking permission to enter. The Director nodded, waving his loyal assistant in, and leaned back into his leather chair, rubbing the glare of the DMR casement from his eyes.

It had been a long morning. So far, there had been no developments in the hunt for Alex Manez, and no clues to the mysteries of
Dis Pater
or Element X.

However, there had been a deluge of meshmail requests from various news agencies and mesh newsletter groups requesting information. As part of Quantum Resources public relations campaign, Michael had decided to offer full disclosure on any information the governments of Canada Corp. and USA, Inc. had de-classified; as well as any “non-sensitive” information Quantum Resources itself developed, releasing this information after it had been confirmed.

The information pirates and leftist groups that monitored NASA (as if that agency were run by malevolent forces) attacked Quantum Resource’s computers with a passion that frankly shocked Michael. He thanked his lucky stars for Calbert Loche, who implemented his philosophy of clean computers. The research machines had no possible access to any mesh account, and no company secrets could be saved on any computer that had an Earth Mesh connection. Outside correspondence was done on separate computers—dumb terminals only.

Michael could imagine what would happen if any information on Element X was leaked. The mesh tabloids had had a field day on the subject of
Dis Pater
, that find being declassified by NASA within hours of discovery, but the farcical stories those rags generated had no end.

It never ceased to amaze him how some groups obtained their information, and how much of it they managed to acquire. Their accuracy was as alarming as their theories were ludicrous. They spread was enough misinformation to keep the masses on the edge of doubt.

Since Michael had little function outside of administration matters until there were any developments, he took it upon himself to deal with the news agencies and mesh groups. If nothing else, it reminded him how important it was not to let himself be swayed by the tabloid stories and opinion columns.

As the one with the facts, he could check them against the accounts generated by sub-news groups. The tabloids fell short every time. Opinion columns sometimes had a few informed participants, but most entries came from lonely, bored, or deranged people who had nothing better to do.

He looked up at his aide.

“Tough day?” Calbert inquired politely.

“Yeah. It never ends.”

“Uphill battle?”

“Something like that.” Michael nodded.

Calbert smiled. “—both ways?”

That elicited a chuckle from Michael. He saw Calbert was holding a duo-tang. “What have you got for me?”

Calbert lifted the duo-tang, glanced at the cover. “Preliminary Budget for the Fiscal Year 2092—Quantum Resources, Inc.” He made a sour face. “It reads like award-winning fiction; only the writer can understand what the hell it says.”

They shared a small laugh.

Lifting his eyebrows, Calbert said, “No, I came by to tell you we’ve downloaded the preliminary investigation report from NASA on the
Orcus 1
incident.”

“Incident?”

“That’s what they’re calling it until they can find a responsible party and lay charges. Also, the weekly
Dis Pater
/Element X update has been downloaded as well. I didn’t know if you caught it on your meshmail.”

“No. Too busy with the media subculture.” He gestured to his computer.

Calbert grimaced. “Tabloids. Never touch the stuff. I stick to the Globe and Mail, and the Washington Post. Everything else is trash. Too bad the rags have ten times the circulation of any legitimate paper. Crackpots and unrateds.”

“On that, we agree.”

There was a short silence where Michael decided Calbert was gathering himself to ask something of personal importance. He gave his assistant all the time he needed.

“Uh,” Calbert began, “My wife asked me to invite you and Melanie if you were available for dinner this Friday. We’re having a few couples over for cards. If you don’t have any other plans.”

“No, our schedule is clear. Mel would be delighted. We haven’t really been social since moving to Toronto. How is Joan?”

“She’s adjusting, but preferred Ottawa. The generous raise you approved for us helps keep her mollified, though. She’s got her eye on an Alaskan cruise this spring.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“Yeah. If you like boats.”

“I think they’re called ships,” Michael joked.

“Change the ‘p’ with a ‘t’ and that’s what I get when I board them. Anyway, I’ve got to bring this budget down to Ray and see if we can figure it out together.”

Michael laughed. “The mysteries of physics are laid to waste by your brilliant minds, and you can’t figure out a simple budget.”

Calbert mimed offering the report to Michael. “Then you wouldn’t mind going over it yourself.”

Raising his hands in a forestalling gesture, Michael shook his head. “Not on your life.”

Offering a conciliatory laugh, Calbert got up and said, “Talk to you later.”

“Later.”

When Calbert had left, Michael sighed, took a sip from his now-cold coffee and grimaced. Clearing his throat, he went back to his computer and pulled up the files from NASA.

The “Incident” report told him nothing new, and he closed the casement. The weekly update on NASA’s efforts in the
Dis Pater
investigation did not offer Michael any new insights, and he skimmed the long-winded paragraphs, scanning for anything of interest.

He brushed over one paragraph, and the meaning of it did not register in his mind until he reached the end of the report. The author had alluded to an interview, but the report did not have any attachment that indicated where the interview was. He read the phrase again:

*

[Ref: n:\982563\\nvstgtn.dispater.ntrvw325.nasa.gov]

“The translation of the sacred scroll the old man revealed to me leads me to believe a further investigation is fully warranted. There is a possible link between the fall of the Mayan civilization around 800 AD, and the discovery of
Dis Pater
…”

*

Michael checked the file location on the NASA LAN, to which he had been given access, but it was not there. He went back to the report and checked the file details. The author’s name was George Markowitz, and it gave his meshmail and vidcomm addresses.

Dialing George Markowitz’ vidcomm through the DMR casement, Michael waited patiently as the ringer sounded four times. He was expecting a voicemail message, but was surprised when the screen blinked on to reveal a fortyish man with a receding hairline and a sour expression on his round face, shadowed by most of a day’s growth of beard. He wore a simple blue shirt, with no tie.

“Hello—” George checked the display bar on the bottom of the screen that flashed the caller’s identity. “—Director Sanderson.” The irritated look on his face did not alter with the knowledge or recognition of his caller’s identity. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Mr. Markowitz. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you could help me.”

Markowitz nodded impatiently.

“I’ve just finished reading the weekly NASA update on
Dis Pater
—Element X, and I saw your report. In it you make reference to an interview with a Mayan Indian.”

“Yes.” There was a decidedly bitter tone to his confirmation.

“I tried to find the attachment, but couldn’t. I was wondering if you could direct me to where it is posted.”

George Markowitz looked around him at the other end, as if ensuring no one was listening in. “Look, Director, I could get into a bit of trouble for this.”

“My interest is strictly official,” Michael assured him, momentarily confused.

“That’s almost worse. If you must know, I presented the interview to my Investigation Supervisor, and he dismissed it as irrelevant and ordered me to remove it from my investigation. He also directed me not to bother any of my superiors with this again. I haven’t shown the interview to anyone else, and erased it from the NASA LAN as I was instructed. The editing department must have forgotten to delete my header info in their daily update. It has been posted for a couple of days, but no one is all that interested in the oversight; you’re the first to say anything about it to me.”

“So the interview is deleted?” Michael pressed.

There was a moment’s hesitation as George considered his reply. “Officially, it never existed. But—” He sighed ponderously. “I have a copy on digital.”

“Would it be too much trouble to ask you to transfer it to my LAN at Quantum Resources here in Toronto? I wouldn’t ask otherwise, but I have a bit of a vested interest in all aspects of this investigation.”

“Yeah, I know.” George took a few breaths. “All right, but I’ll send it through a proxy mesh service, so there’s no official log, and no immediate link to me, even though, officially, the interview is no longer considered NASA property, but declassified and Public Domain; my Supervisor might not see it that way. It’s a lengthy video, so the upload might take a few minutes.”