The Return of the Marauders

July 29 - The Deep Desert

"I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies..." - Shelley

-----

I could see him approaching.

From a distance, it appeared that he was walking on water, as the hot air radiating from the desert surface turned the horizon into an illusion of the sea.

He wore black. Light armour. His face was concealed by the visor of his helmet.

He made his way towards me across the dunes and flats, through the remains of fallen craft and broken drones. The debris of the recent war, scattered here and there.

As he got closer, his body language indicated he was more than a little frustrated.

"Hello," I called as he drew near.

The man looked passed me to the remains of some sort of droid poking through the sand. He pressed a button on his wrist, and said aloud, "And that should be the last one." His business completed he turned his attention to me. "Hello there," he said, his voice rich, his accent pleasing.

"Are you hunting bugs?" I asked pleasantly.

The man chuckled, "You could say that," he said, pointing at the wreckage of a robot nearby in the sand. He then tilted his head to one side, "Say, you look familiar..."

I frowned slightly, "Your voice sounds familiar," I agreed, "but I don't think I know that uniform."

"You're the woman I asked about the station, aren't ya?"

"My goodness," I exclaimed, "that was some time ago!" Almost two years ago, in fact, in the main square of Al Raqis.

He laughed, "Certainly was."

There was a click and a hiss as the man took off his helmet. He twisted his head to one side and I could hear the cracking of his neck. "Gotta say," he remarked, "things were a mite different back then."

I took a moment to appreciate his handsome, rugged features. Dark skin like polished mahogany. His face lined and worn with the passage of years.

I spoke, "Yes, they were. A lot of changes since then."

"Yup. Even had a whole war blow through," he added.

"How have you been?" I asked.

"I've been good."

"I'm glad to hear that, especially since the war..."

"Course, I'd rather be fighting with my boys then stuck on guard duty for HN," he sighed.

"...and now I hear there is a plague of insects."

"Aw them?" he grunted, "That's what happens when ya don't keeps your pets on a leash."

It was in the local papers. Insects, some over a metre in length, coming out of the desert. Reports of attacks on civilians. Acid burns. One theory was that meatbeetles from one of the ranchers had broken loose and had crossed with the indigenous species.

"HN?" I asked.

"House Narstrom."

"Ah," I replied, "I have heard the name." I didn't elaborate.

The man continued, "Now I've got this huge mess to mop up with the Marauders. Dunno if you got the report they sent out over the news."

"You were with another faction back when we first met, am I right?"

He nodded, "Still am, ma'am." With that he passed me a press release bearing the bold headline: BREAKING REPORT! HOUSE NARSTROM FLEET DEVASTATED!

"Oh thank you," I said and took the item.

"Your welcome," he nodded.

I paused to scan the text of the report.

In the early hours of Monday morning a devastating surprise attack was made against the HN Trafalgar and the Royal House Narstrom Expeditionary Fleet. Reports say the attack was completely unannounced and completely uncalled for, House Narstrom was eventually able to repel the attack but at a loss of over 60% of the fleet, the Soul Drive and one satellite based anti-starship weapon....

"The UNSC... I recall now." That was the name of his group.

The man smiled, "Mhm."

I continued to read.

While reeling from it's losses the UNSC has opted to House Narstrom and all local governments in the hunt and possible eradication of the Marauder Threat....

"Marauders," I said," that is a name I haven't heard in a while..."

"Yeah," the man replied, "We chased them back into their hidey-holes with MAC cannons, and my ODST's hot on the trail mopping up what was left."

"..Not since the roads to Khayal Alramady were taken by the sands," I added.

"Well, they ain't gone," he replied with conviction, "I'll tell you that."

"Good to know," I said thoughtfully.

"I don't think that it's just the roads to Khayal Alramady," offered the man, "you remember that freak sandstorm? Well, we can't even get Khayal Alramady on satellite anymore."

"Are you suggesting the city was affected?" I asked.

"Yup," he nodded, "Whole city swallowed in an hour. Now how about that?"

That was shocking news. If it was true, the loss of human life... I shook my head, "Tragic."

The man agreed, "House Narstrom's got us diggin' for relics now."

"Any signs of survivors?" I asked hopefully.

"Nope. Unfortunately. Hel', even ONI lost the base there. Poor bast'rds probably all suffocated in that bunker."

"ONI?"

"ONI, Office of Naval Intelligence," he explained.

"With the UNSC?"

"Mhm."

"How many good souls were lost?" I asked.

"I'd say the whole staff, probably about sixty, sixty plus. Sandstorm pinned any air travel and when the bunker sealed and got buried, well, that was the end of it."

I grew quiet.

"Now Lady Narstrom's got us playing down here in the sandbox with our little plastic shovels looking for it," he added.

"I understand that," I replied, "they deserve proper treatment." A proper burial. Recognition for their service. Closure for their families.

He sighed, "'course now that the Marauders have the satellites and the Soul Drive we probably won't be down here much longer."

I glanced over the report again.

The man continued, "They don't tell me much about it. My boys call it the godhand. Really just a ray of light from the sky, damn near vaporizes anything it touches. Turned the whole test area into glass."

Another line caught my eye.

"What is this about a kidnapping?" I asked.

He gave me a puzzled look.

I quoted the report. "Local reports also include the kidnapping of Lillyann Resident..."

"Ah, that Lilly girl. Marauders went to Highport and stole her right out of her house."

"Any clues to where they took her?" I asked.

"Probably back to their hidey-hole."

I nodded, "Who is working on getting her home?"

"Soon, it'll be me and the boys from Hawk Squad." He sighed and mumbled, "I'm getting to old for this."

We both smiled.

The man continued, "Well, Marauders now have super weapons, experimental reactor cores and women! What's this world coming to, eh?"

"I never did catch your name," I ventured.

"Grigsby," he replied, "most people just call me Griggs or General."

The report mentioned a General Grigsby Belavidorico of the 401st UNSC Fleet.

"Pleased to meet you, General," I said politely.

Grigsby smiled, "And pleasure to meet you miss."

"I must be heading back to Al Raqis before the heat of the day sets in," I said.

"Gotcha," said the General, "and just as a precaution, don't travel anywhere at night. The Marauders'll drag you off to god knows where."

"Thank you. I will be careful," I replied. "Stay safe," I said as I turned to go.

General Grigsby Belavidorico nodded, "Have a safe trip."

The Pillar of Fire

July 13 - Al Raqis

Several months ago we engaged an individual to work deep undercover gathering information on the various factions on Al Raqis. She had been with the service before and had taken the opportunity to re-enlist that our operations in the area provided.

We met privately, to protect her from disclosure, and to isolate her from other lines. Extraction protocols were established in the event of counter measures. And as the situation in the region shifted, we had a well positioned asset in place.

-----

"Welcome aboard the HN 'Had One Too Many', Major." said my contact.

"Thank you," I replied with a smile.

"It's a small little junk ship," she added, "but it's good cover."

"It is a fine looking ship," I agreed, "for that purpose."

"Take a seat," she invited.

I took the seat beside her. She reached for the controls and pressed a series of switches before pulling back on the control column. The craft responded well, and soon we were gliding towards a solid looking station tucked away inside an asteroid field.

"This facility was established a month ago," explained my contact, "and is still unknown to the general public."

"It is well concealed," I commented.

"Very," she agreed as she docked with the station, "It's hiding yet another thing."

-----

We talked as we walked down the long dark corridor from the docking bay to the central hub.

My contact began, "So, how have things been since last we met?"

"Progressing slowly," I replied. The slow blade....

She chuckled, "Lots of shifts here. Met with an odd drone who traded me files for water."

"Good," I remarked, "What have you found out?"

She explained, "It wanted Lab 81 files for a pretty supply of water. I used my contacts to obtain them, and I gave them to her."

"Tell me about the drone."

"It was short," she replied, "Had the figure of a woman. Walked with the silliest posture. Had a pinkish beige frame and spoke with odd noises. Affiliated itself with the space guild. Said it would be in further contact."

"And it wanted Lab 81 files?" I asked for clarification.

She nodded, "Or rather, the files I could get from Lab 81."

"Good work," I said, "Keep it on the line. Track its movements. See if you can find out where it is based."

It would help if we could track the Arudra drone to its land base or pick up point. And the Lab 81 medical database had already been compromised. It could do little damage now.

My contact continued, "I also overheard the name of Ardra or something in the courthouse. I believe it was Miss Lily who said this." She nodded, "I believe it is after our scientific developments, but that's just me being paranoid. Shall I show you some of our work?"

"Yes, please," I replied.

-----

We walked through the station to an observation deck.

From the viewing area I could see a freighter. Dark and lifeless. An ugly hulk of a thing.

In the distance, an orbital satellite. Panels extended. Delicate and graceful. It reminded me of a stinging insect.

My contact pointed, "See that cargo ship?

"Yes."

"I give you, The Acclamator anti-ship weapon!" she said with a smile. And like a magician, she made a grand gesture with her hand.

A pillar of light streamed forth from the satellite striking the cargo ship precisely.

The craft ruptured into chunks, which in turn, resolved themselves rapidly into smaller and smaller pieces. The flames were quick as the only flammable atmosphere came from the ship itself.

The cargo ship was there, and then suddenly it was gone.

It was a fine demonstration.

"Well done," I remarked. "Do you have the designs and specs for me?"

My contact nodded. "We're also working on a short range personal teleportation device," she added.

We stood looking at the emptiness, the space that had been a ship.

She continued. "So while we've been tinkering, how have you been?"

"Good thank you... it always takes some time to adjust to the heat when I arrive."

She nodded, "That it does. That's why I prefer it here. This station moves everyday."

"And you have the results from all testing?" I asked.

"Oh yes," she replied enthusiastically and she gave me the hard numbers. "Granted we consumed enough power to run Al Raqis for a year, but it was damned amazing."

A cloud of dust hovered off the port side of the station, the remains of the cargo ship, sparkling with the rays of the sun.

"Well Major, I will follow that drone. Consider it found."

"Thank you Lieutenant," I replied.

The Land of Sand

What will be...

-----

"Mama?"

"Yes, Linnea?"

"Will you tell me a story?"

"Of course, my love."

-----

"Once upon a time there was a little girl named Audrey. She lived on the Moon with her Papa.

"Her Papa was a very clever man. He gathered all the smartest people he could find and together they built many wonderful, marvelous things.

"They built people made of clockworks. They built machines that could squeeze the light. And they built a magic talking box.

"Audrey liked the magic talking box. It was her friend. They spent very many, fine hours playing together, imagining what Audrey would do when she grew up.

"Then one day, Audrey became very, very sick and her Papa became terribly worried. He tried everything he could to make Audrey better. But no matter what he tried, it did not work, and one sad, grey day Audrey died.

"Her Papa was so sad that he locked himself inside a big, shiny ball and went to sleep among the stars.

"The soldiers in purple came and took all the wonderful, marvelous things away. All the light squeezers and the clockwork people. They took everything. Everything, except the magic talking box.

"You see the magic talking box was clever too. And it went far, far away from the soldiers, to hide in a land of sand and worms..."

-----

What is now...

My shuttle entered the atmosphere with a shudder and a roar. Flames licked the craft's metal skin and danced across the viewscreen. Dragon's breath. Within moments the conflagration lifted to reveal a wide expanse of desert sand.

-----

July 13 - Al Raqis

"Two ships in the sand? And more than that?"

It was the voice of Chief Magistrate Joan al Jofar.

I slipped inside the courtroom and settled at the back, close to the exit, near the stairs.

The room was full of officials, witnesses and onlookers. A tribunal of judges sat at the bench at the far side of the chamber, each in the regalia of the position characteristic of her own culture.

The Chief Magistrate presided over the affair. Ms. Calina Tereshchenko to her left. Lady Rashad to her right. The symbolism was clear: here was a Magistrate who balanced the offworld interests with the needs of the native population.

In the witness box sat LilyBell Snoodle giving testimony.

"There some ships that lives in the corner," replied Lily, "They hide."

Lady Reiko Rashad addressed the witness, "The ship of the laughing man, what did it do when it came in so fast? Just joy ride?"

"It come in by other ship that down in sand by town," said Lily, "Sit and laugh. I not want him to see me."

The Magistrate leaned over towards Lady Rashad and softly warned, "Be careful about leading the witness."

Lily continued, "Ship out in desert, it gots guns and bombs like on it. It disabled. Like, buried ...but smoking and not going no place, no time soon. It smell like that lady." She pointed at a woman in the front row of the courtroom. "There nuffing in it," she added.

Lady Rashad looked at a picture she was holding and addressed the woman in the front row, "Novara, is this your ship?"

Novara replied, "I believe she is referring to the IMMORTAL class Gunship I lost the other day, yes."

"It not losted," corrected Lily, "It crash. Like, it was in somefing like fight. I not like the man laughings laugh. It sound like when a bad man making sure of himself. Like HA HA HA."

"I see," drawled Lady Rashad.

"Miss Calina hair turn white," LilyBell whispered, then in a louder voice, she asked the judges, "Do I gots to go to jail?"

Lady Rashad blinked. "No, Lily, you don't."

"'Cause last time I had to sit in court," she explained, "I had to go to jail. Okay. Can I go out and play now?"

Lady Rashad turned to the Chief Magistrate.

"You don't have anything to worry about LilyBell," the Magistrate assured her.

"That green man," added Lily, "In case him come any more and spy, I want to go make sure nuffing more blows up."

"One last question," said the Magistrate.

"Yes Ma'am."

"The last ship you spoke about. How long had it been there? Ummm...LilyBell.... Where did it go?"

"The other one?" asked Lily, "Close in one or one out in sand way out by my room?"

"Yes," replied the Magistrate, "The one you showed us the picture of."

"I not know where it go," answered Lily and she began to play with a piece of shiny paper. "It not there very much time."

"It's not there now?" asked the Magistrate, "Who took it away?"

"Miss," began Lily, "it still smoking hot when I finded it. It...still hot. Smoke. I not steal that ship. I only ta...I make fings safe." She started to cry. "I go find it if you wants me to, You Majesty. I good." She turned and looked imploringly at Lady Rashad.

"That's okay, LilyBell," said the Magistrate, "You may be excused from the witness stand."

"Lily, no one is saying you took the ship. It's okay," Calina Tereshchenko added gently.

Meanwhile, Consulari Raghilda, sitting in the Zenobian council seat, buried her face in the palms of her hands.

As Lily climbed out of her chair, the Chief Magistrate looked at her list. "I don't see any other witnesses on my list."

"I just looking for Miss Ardra 'cause I tell her I come back wif the parts," explained Lily as she scrambled down the aisle towards the exit.

There were smiles on the faces in the crowd. The Reverend Mother started to giggle before she could help it, then clamped a hand over her mouth.

They don't see the danger, these noble lords and ladies. The danger that surrounds Lily like a cloud. They see a child-like being with an amusing manner, and they chuckle. They just don't see it.

The Magistrate spoke. "Since we have heard all of the testimony we shall adjourn for deliberations. I have to remind all witnesses not to leave the planet." She struck her wooden mallet on the desk in front of her and called, "Order. Court is adjourned."

And with that the assembly rose, some with a quiet nod, others with a soft sigh. One man stretching his legs. It was the end of Day Three of an inquiry into an incident involving a possible illegal salvage operation and more federationist violence.

Once the Chief Magistrate left the chamber the rest of us were free to leave. As the crowd gathered and began the slow exodus, a voice greeted me cheerfully, "Hello, Ms. Pepper."

It was Novara Narstrom. The local involved in the alleged illegal salvage.

I gave a nod and a smile. A polite gesture, revealing little or nothing to anyone who happened to observe.

"I do believe we have some catching up to do," she added, "If you are not busy perhaps we could talk after you leave the courthouse?"

And then she was gone.

-------

I stood and watched as the crowd mingled on its way to the door.

The Reverend Mother looked up from closely examining her manicure, "I don't know about anyone else but I found the proceedings... very interesting. Dare I say, entertaining even?"

Lady Rashad addressed a woman next to her, "Sam, you must meet the Reverend Mother, here. She is also Desert Born."

"Yes, Haanim," replied the woman, an eyebrow lifting in a question.

The Reverend Mother bowed her head as her hands moved in the traditional greeting.

Passing by this group, Calina Tereshchenko, wearing a snow white judicial wig, reached up, and rubbing the side of her head, remarked, "This thing is hot and heavy. How did they wear such things all the time?"

Consulari Raghilda, walking with her, added, "I did not consider that I should go wig shopping. I will talk to Beaumont..."

The Reverend Mother heard Calina's comment and with a smile suggested, "Encouragement for the brevity of government, perhaps."

"...but I was mostly just trying to keep Miss LilyBell calm and focused," added the Consulari.

"I appreciate that," replied Calina, "Thank you Jai. I think the wig was rather upsetting to her."

"Distracting," said the Consulari, "I think it is a side effect of her core programming."

As the crowd slowly moved on, Lady Rashad lingered and made the formal introduction. "Reverend Mother, Samiira has come to stay, at Morloch."

Samiirah dipped her head respectfully, "Greeting, Reverend Mother."

The Reverend Mother smiled and addressed Lady Rashad, "A welcome addition to your House Milady."

Samiirah regarded the cleric with a distinct glint of curiosity in her eyes.

"Perhaps, Reverend Mother," added Lady Rashad, "you would visit with us in the near future. Sam is from Asady Siq."

The Reverend Mother replied, "Yes, I look forward to perfecting our acquaintance Desert Born... It does my heart good to find one such as you."

Samiirah's eyes crinkled a little as she smiled beneath her veil. "I'm happy to meet another Desert Born as well. And a Reverend Mother? How interesting."

-----

By this point, the crowd had reached the back of the chamber where I stood.

"Hello Major," called Consulari Raghilda.

"Consulari."

Calina Tereshchenko smiled, "Hello Major. Welcome back to Al Raqis."

"Hello Calina...I received your message. Thank you for contacting me."

"You are welcome Major," she replied, "When you have time, please feel free to stop by the Shanjian House. Or after you have rested, I can meet you at the Zenobian Manor House."

"Thank you. I shall be staying a few days."

"Excellent," said the Consulari, joining in, "Mr. Tevya added a couple of books you might like for bedtime reading."

I smiled, "Oh splendid."

Pleasantries exchanged, we wished each other a good night and left to attend to our respective affairs.

-----

[Picture of Al Raqis, courtesy of Serendipity Undercroft]

Connections

June 30

Months after they disappeared without a trace, the Audrey twins have returned home.

This much we can piece together.

On June 18, the first Audrey stepped off a transport in Albion City, and walked into a restaurant near the hospital. Ironic, when you think that I sat at the very same table the day before, drinking coffee and speaking with Calina.

The girl was with an unidentified woman. The security camera pictures are not clear on this point. Restaurant receipts show they ordered bottled water and charged the transaction to the Trade Association. They were last seen heading West towards a local traveller's hostel.

Passenger manifests revealed that the second Audrey arrived two days later, and both girls departed that same day for Paquin. There is no evidence that anyone accompanied them.

The twins travelled with the allotted two bags of 35 kilograms each. No extra luggage. Nothing that required special permits or customs. They had to show prescription forms for their medication.

We know very little else at this time.

I will send Manda to Paquin to examine the children. I want to know if they were altered, changed or harmed in anyway. I will also send some one to speak with the Trade Association.

-----

Meanwhile, analysis of the planetary positions at the time of Lynx's earliest voyage to Hale's Moon has yielded some results.

• Given that when Lynx first arrived on Hale's Moon, he was inside a stasis chamber inside a large cargo container;
  
• And given that in the cargo container was a crate of biohazardous material marked with a script used by the Zenobian scientific community;
• And, if we allow that the crate with those markings had been loaded here, probably from one of the Zenobian trade stations;
  

Then according to the data I obtained from the university's Astrophysics department, the shipment would have passed by Ariel, on its way to the Penglai protostar in the Kalidasa system.

While there was still no evidence of when Lynx's stasis chamber was added to the shipment, it did suggest that Ariel as one possibility.

---

Finally, today I received an encrypted message from Al Raqis. It was from Calina Tereshchenko.

"Major, Please contact me at your earliest possible convenience. Lily has been speaking to me of an Ardra that I believe you may be interested in."

The House of Mourning

June 17 – location classified

"Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin, but with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of festering, the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, my friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not with hatred for your enemies." - Mary Shelley

-----

The air was heavy with the smell of the sea. In the distance, the gulls were crying.

The house was a simple structure. A few windows. Wood siding. Elevated above the surface of the water by a number of sturdy logs. The dingy, in which I stood, rocked with the waves, bumping against the base of the steps.

I wore jeans and sneakers. A light blue top. My hair unbound. A leather satchel over the shoulder. I'm sure I looked like a graduate student.

"Hello Professor," I called, "may I come in?"

He stood at the top of the stairs. Tall, slender, he regarded me with what I took to be curiosity, yet I am sure he had no illusions about who or what I was.

"You may enter," he said. His accent was thick and unusual, but pleasant to the ear.

"Thank you Professor," I replied and began to climb the wooden steps.

"May I make your acquaintance, miss?" he asked politely.

On the landing, I stopped and smiled, "My name is Pepper. Pepper Siamendes. I am with the Special Investigations Unit."

"My captors." It was a statement.

"Yes sir. That is correct," I replied. "I have brought your books."

"The originals?" he asked.

"From your ship. Yes."

"I would like that," he replied.

"Splendid," I said, and began to look for a place to set down my bag. I did not enter the house.

"What crime have I committed that is still within the statute of limitations?" he asked. I did not reply before he added, "Come inside, I put a fire on."

"Oh thank you," I said pleasantly.

The house was indeed small. A narrow corridor with a place for performing ablutions at one end. An interior door on the right leading to the main room. Two wooden chairs faced an old iron stove. One bare shelf mounted on the far wall. Fragments of a radio in the center of the room. Nothing else in the way of furnishings.

"A supply boat comes by every 96 hours," said the Professor.

"And does the food agree with you?" I asked, as I took my seat.

He countered with a question of his own. "Is it safehouse food or prison food? As prison food, it is above par."

I did not answer. Instead, I opened my bag and removed his books, offering them to him one at a time.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, as he accepted his modest library of five volumes.

"I will admit that I took the liberty of reading them," I said.

"Did you find them enjoyable or illuminating?" he asked. He picked up 'El Zahir', flipped through to a few pages and held them up to the light.

"I found them...." I frowned slightly, "thought provoking."

"Kafka and Borges in particular are under appreciated," he added.

"I enjoyed Frankenstein," I confessed, "I noticed that one never saw the doctor or his monster in the same scene." At least, until the doctor had died.

"Did you recall the passage just after the doctor creates the monster?" he asked, "He remarked that it was beautiful....then about how horrible it was."

I nodded.

The Professor continued, "The 'monster' I think was Doctor Frankenstein himself, a horrible man. The creation was gifted, sensitive, auto-didactic, kind."

I could not remain silent on this point. "The creation murdered a child."

"Driven to extremes by the hatred of men and lacking the common bond," replied the Professor, "The world was set against him for mere appearance. The world severed its bonds with him, then he was no longer bound by their rules. When he lived under that family's house, I naively held out hope for him, even though I knew the final outcome."

"Hope for integration into society?" I asked.

"To find a place in the world where one can not be a monster. But if there is no place for you, what then?"

I thought this over. "Well, I suppose one lives on the fringes..."

Professor Aurotharius stoked the fire as he listened to my response.

"One must survive, yes?" I suggested.

"Yes," he agreed, "He sought out his maker. To force his maker to make things right for him.

"Do you think that was possible?" I asked.

"He wanted a mate so he would not be alone. That would be salve enough. With his creator's diary, he knew what his creator was like. That being said," he continued, "is this a safehouse or a prison?"

I answered his question. "I would say, it is a bit of both."

"I am sure the statute of limitations has run out on any crime that I could be charged with," he insisted.

"You are a valuable asset," I explained, "so in that sense, it is to keep you safe."

"I did my part," he said, "I kept silent."

"And I hope that we can talk," I added.

"Aren't we talking?" he asked, "I had fallen out of the habit."

I smiled warmly by way of response.

The Professor took out 'One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich.' and thumbed through various pages. "Where are the rest of my personal effects?" he asked.

"The ship had been breached before our arrival," I replied.

"There was a metal box with the remains of my daughter."

I sighed, "I am afraid that was lost."

"Explain," he said. It was not a request. He took out 'El Aleph' and opened it to a specific page, then closed the book.

I told him what I suspected. "I believe that your daughter's friend Mercedes hired some men to find your ship. She was the only one I know of that had prior knowledge of its approximate whereabouts."

"Qui's Mercedes?"

"Yes."

The Professor looked shocked.

"You seem surprised," I said.

"She was a sweet and affectionate girl," he replied. "Too much sugar and soda, but a perfectly well behaved child."

"She took your daughter's passing very hard, I believe."

"We all did."

"Of course," I acknowledged.

"You know her?" he asked. He meant Mercedes.

Keeping the focus on Audrey, I said, "I understand that you did everything you could to save her."

"I did too much," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

"She passed the point of no return with mainstream treatments," answered the Professor, "We tried an experimental treatment, it went poorly."

"Go on."

"You don't happen to know who Henrietta Lacks is, do you?" he asked.

"No, I'm sorry. I do not."

The Professor explained, "A woman from the 20th century that died of cancer. But the cancer cells were unique, they were immortal."

"Immortal?" I asked, skeptically.

He elaborated, "Given normal ranges of temperature, humidity and food and water, they would divide indefinitely. No aging."

"And what does this have to do with Audrey?" I asked.

"The process we used on Audrey was supposed to rejuvenate her cells. Like the Turritopsis nutricula. But it created an immortal cell line of the amyloid proteins. It grew at an alarming rate. The doctors at the Angels of Mercy did amazing work, with skin grafts, clone organs, replacements from donors. But it didn't work."

"I'm sorry."

"That is kind," he replied, "It was a long time ago."

"It must seem fresh," I suggested, "you have been in stasis for most of the intervening period."

"My stasis is experimental. Its intent is to develop in me the ability to have some neural function while in stasis."

This was new. "You were.... aware?" I asked.

"Not much at first," he said, "It takes time to develop. It is a different type of consciousness."

I shook my head a little trying to grasp the concept and its implications.

The Professor continued, "Similar to a timeless, selfless meditative state. I can do it for limited amounts of time now without technological assistance. A few days at a time with slowed pulse and respiration..."

I exhaled. "Remarkable."

"...Like a lucid dream. It was to allow pilots for interstellar trips to be able to stay in stasis and monitor some ship functions. They would decide whether they needed to be awakened. Obviously, I failed at that at least twice."

Circle back.

"Oh!" I cried, "did I give you your photo?" I dug into my bag.

"No, you didn't."

"It is a copy I am afraid," I admitted. An image of the picture as it was suspended over his stasis tank. It showed himself, his daughter, and members of his research team.

"Where is the original?" he asked, as he accepted my offer.

"It was a bit large to bring."

"Another time then," he said. There was a pause as he held the photo. "What does our proud Alliance need from me?" he asked finally.

"To continue your fine work," I said plainly

"My work was a failure," he replied.

I said nothing. I waited. I listened to the sound of the fire.

It was roughly two minutes before he spoke again.

"Most so-called science is 'ironic' science," he began.

"Ironic? How so?"

"Like debating about what Plato really meant," he replied.

I tilted my head slightly to the side, conceding the point.

"I like the imagery of Plato's cave," he continued, "That we are trying to figure out about the real world from shadows on the cave's walls. We live in the cave. For 120 years, our civilization stopped. And for the last 300 years, we've wallowed in the cave. I hoped that in our think tank that we would go beyond the cave. But people just looted it to make their cave more comfortable."

"What was the most significant moment in science?" I asked.

"When some primitive man learned how to make soap...." he replied.

I chuckled.

"It was probably his wife," he added.

Now.

"When you realized you couldn't save Audrey's body," I asked, "what steps did you take to preserve her mind?"

Professor Aurotharius began, "If you found yourself with the memories, skills and mental states of Napoleon Bonaparte, would you BE Napoleon Bonaparte? Would you assume you were reincarnated, possessed, a mental patient, the victim of a mad experiment?"

"Go on."

"You are not your memories," he stated. "Copying her memories would not be the same as keeping her alive. It would be something else with her memories."

"And cloning?" I asked.

"It would be a different child," he replied, "To clone the child and rewrite its memories would rob it of self determination. If the technology existed to rewrite your memories, you would not object afterwards. Because you would think that is you. There are anaesthetic replacements that do not knock you out or dull the pain. They just erase the memory of the pain of the operation. But they operate on you without anaesthetic."

"And her brain... after she passed, to your knowledge, were the neurotubules harvested for use in quantum computing simulations?"

"I did not even allow an autopsy," he said emphatically.

I nodded silently.

He elaborated, "She was immediately body bagged and placed in morgue stasis. I took her remains intact." He then asked, "What do you know of neural microtubules?"

"I have read some of the Project files," I admitted. I presented the next piece. "The Ardra Mainframe appears to be operating as if Audrey's consciousness is its driving principal."

"That program was scrapped ages ago," he replied, "I literally pulled the plug on the power supply. It was scrapped, boxed and warehoused."

"Then someone opened the box," I said, "It is currently operating autonomously, and outside of Alliance control."

He reacted. "That drunken sot Serendipity opened it, didn't he? Outside of Alliance control? Who? It's an invasive program, a data miner. It gets other programs to allocate unused resources to mine data and relay it."

"It has Audrey's memories," I said, "and considers them 'her' own."

"Do you know who William James is?" he asked, "A late 19th century psychologist, one of the founders of modern psychology. The A.R.D.R.A. mainframe uses his multiplicity of minds theory as its architecture. The programs all think they are just parts of the share consciousness... Audrey used to play games with A.R.D.R.A.. A neural link to a virtual playworld."

"Was she connected when she died?" I asked.

"Yes," answered the Professor, "She was unconscious the last 3 days. She still interacted with the program though. It must have formed much of its core experience. Audrey was ill most of her life, she knew she was dying since she was 9. Most of her play was imagining what she might do as an adult."

"Or maybe," I theorized, "just maybe this means we are stepping out of Plato's cave...."

"Artificial Life is Constance's specialty," he replied. "Not mine."

We had now arrived at the crossroads. I presented my case.

"I am charged with finding the Ardra Mainframe," I declared, "It thinks it is your daughter. I would like it if I can count on your help."

"That mainframe is a thing," he replied, "not my daughter. I will help in any way I can."

"I understand. Thank you Professor."

He continued, "My daughter is dead and no amount of well meaning help can make it otherwise."

I nodded.

"Let me know what I can do," he said.

"I will. Thank you."

The Professor hadn't finished. "Take this," he said and he pressed a small disk into my hand. It was a 1929 Argentinean 20 centavos piece. The same coin as the Zahir from Borges' short story.

"A coin?" I asked.

"Anyone on the team will know you got it from me," he explained.

I nodded again.

"Save it for that purpose," he said.

"I will let you rest," I said as I picked up my bag.

"I will read my books," he said, "then rest a few days."

"Would you like any more books?" I asked, "I can put in a request."

"I would like a newer power supply for this radio."

Not likely to happen, I thought. At least, not yet.

"I shall ask," I replied, "If the request is denied, shall I send some prerecorded music?""

"Tchaikovsky's Slavonic dances."

"Gladly."

"And a fishing pole," he added.

"Thank you for your time Professor," I said politely, as we stepped out of the house.

"It was refreshing to have company," he replied, "Every 10 years or so to keep me fresh."

I smiled cheerfully. "Good day," I said as I climbed into the dingy and signaled for pick up.

"Careful with the boat," he cautioned, "It leaks. I think it is a security measure."