Linton Chronicles - Stargazer
01 Apr 2018Andrew Linton
Previously12Apr3304, The Pleiades
I jump to Pleione. The strain on my nerves is acute. You have to expect hyperdictions these days and it’s not like I'm in a heavily armoured and shielded Type-10. My Asp has no hardpoints and I don't have the combat skills or xeno-weapons to take on a Thargoid ship. I arrive in Pleione and my sweat sublimes on the canopy as the ship cools. I set a course for Stargazer.
Asteroid bases are renowned for their lack of luxury and the boorish nature of the people who work on them. Stargazer does not disappoint. There's a layer of fine dust over everything that dulls all colour and the constant background noise from construction and refining activities is already making my head pound. Why Dieter Wegener would base himself here I don’t yet know, but there must have been a reason, and I'm hoping that discovering it will help me find the man.
I begin, as I often do, in a bar. The Mining Laser is a small, dimly lit establishment, with about twenty tables, half of them occupied. As I enter there's an argument in progress. A group of roughnecks are debating the relative merits of different drill-bit sharpening tools. I sense that after a few more drinks there will be blows.
Moving past them, I sit at the bar and order a Kongga Ale. The bartender has an open, intelligent face framed by silky blonde hair that falls in a body wave halfway down her back. She must be tougher than she looks to be running a bar this far out from civilisation. Her blue eyes sparkle as she laughs at my request.
"You'll be lucky," she grins. "We haven't had any Kongga in more'n a year."
"Okay, give me an Eranin Pearl Whisky."
She shakes her head. "If it's a rare you're after, I got either Saxon Wine or Orrerian Vicious Brew."
I don't want either of these, on account of bad experiences with both, so I opt for a ring water – pure water refined from an icy ring. Maybe my pee will lighten up if I hydrate myself.
"You here for long or just passing through? Can't say you have much of the look of a miner about you, soft white hands like those. I'm Corona."
"Andy. Do you know this man?" I ask, showing her a photo of Dieter Wegener.
She glances at the image. "Sure, I've seen him around, not for a spell though."
"Any idea what happened to him?" I sip my water and wait.
"You should talk to Syn; she'd know; she sees everyone come and go."
"And I'll find her…?"
"She'll be in here later, about midnight, when the station goes quiet."
"Much obliged, Corona, see you later."
I finish my drink, leave a decent tip, and head out. My next stop is Station Facilities; I want to see the lab where Wegener made his video. Falco Bryce is the manager; he's a short man, right-faced, and meticulously, almost obsessively groomed. I guess he's about fifty; his greying hair is slicked down with gel, he's closely shaven, wears thick, black-framed spectacles, and his uniform is clean and pressed. The only blemish is a spot of dried blood on his chin where he's cut himself. He looks at my ID. His head shakes slightly as he speaks.
"This investigator's licence expired more than a year ago, Commander…Linton."
Not everyone notices this, so I learn he pays attention to detail. He's in the right job for keeping track of toilet paper supplies.
"Okay, it's true, I've been a bit lax in getting it renewed, but maybe you can help me anyway. Can you tell me if this label refers to a bench somewhere in this station?" I say, showing him the image I captured from Wegener's holovid. Without a valid licence, he doesn't have to help me, but I'm hoping he's less officious than I suspect.
Despite his position of authority, Bryce has trouble maintaining eye contact, which gives me the chance to study his face as he evades the answer. I can tell before he speaks that he doesn’t want to help. It feels like he knows something that he wants to keep from me.
"What's this all about?" Bryce says.
I take a direct approach and show him Wegener's photo. "I've been retained to find this man. I believe he rented space here for his research."
Bryce looks again at the label and the picture of Wegener. I see recognition flicker in his eyes and it seems my hunch to come to Stargazer was right. Something happened here and it’s my job to find out what it was. Bryce is reluctant to give me anything but I suspect he wants to be rid of me.
"SG/2/85/04," he says, like I'm being initiated into some secret society of facilities managers, "is a workbench in room 85 on level 2, but I doubt you'll find anything there; it's been serviced since Mr Wegener occupied it."
So, he remembers Wegener; I hadn't mentioned him by name. As I’m leaving Bryce’s office, I notice that he’s reaching for a communicator.
I go straight to the lab, and Bryce was right, the room's been cleaned. It's almost too clean compared with the rest of the station. The floor, the benchtop, even the walls are gleaming. I'm beginning to suspect – because it's in my nature to do so – that there's been an attempt to remove all traces of recent activity here. Bryce knew this; that’s why he didn’t mind me seeing the room.
I tap the label. Found you.
The drawers in the bench are empty; I run my hand underneath them for anything hidden, and have the feeling I'm not the first to do this, but there's nothing. I look under the bench. In a far corner, where one of the legs is bolted to the floor I see something small and black. It's a piece of shaped hard plastic, smooth all over except for one jagged edge where it's sheared off whatever it was part of. It's the only thing in here that doesn't belong and I pocket it to examine later.
I'm finished in room 85 and it's ten in the evening; still a few hours until Syn hits The Mining Laser. I find the Cleansing Department and, judging by the dust everywhere, I'd say they have something of a backlog. The door isn't locked and there's nobody around. There isn't even password protection on their systems so I'm straight in and scanning the work schedules. I find that the lab was cleaned on 19Feb3304, or seven weeks ago. If he left more than seven weeks ago Wegener could be anywhere by now.
I drift back to the bar. Corona is still on duty and I order another ring water.
"Andy, welcome back! You're in luck. That's Syn over there in the corner; she's in early this evening."
"What's she drinking?" I ask, glancing across the room.
"She's partial to the local brew, Stargazer SA"
"Strong Ale?"
"Yep, though some call it Skull Adjuster."
"I'll take two."
The bar is still noisy; it's busier than before and the clientele has changed. The debate has moved on from drill-bit sharpeners to how many prospector limpet controllers to take on board a mining 'conda. Well, if that's their biggest problem then life is sweet.
"Syn?" I ask.
The woman is tiny, no bigger than a child. Her face is space-worn – wrinkles cover it like the surface of an icy moon and liver spots are scattered like impact craters. There's no knowing how old she is. Her shoulders are raised defensively and I can see the stoop that's common to many pilots who spend long hours in the cockpit.
She looks up at me with cold, grey eyes…and she smiles. Her face is transformed from cauldron-stirring witch to dear old granny.
"Andrew Linton, Asp Explorer, Gamescom paint job. Arrived today at 1400," she recites.
I'm amazed; genuinely surprised.
"That's right. How do you do that?" I slide her ale across the table as I sit down.
"Well, I saw you and I remembered. I was in the sidey that scanned you as you approached. Nothing in your hold, no weapons, no mining gear. What's he up to, I wonder; private investigator, probably."
I burst out laughing. "And, do you scan everybody? And remember them all?"
"It's my job; been doin' it for as long as. It doesn't earn much, but I gather traffic info and when I scan outbound ships I get their wake data. I sell it to material traders when I've got enough to make the journey worthwhile. My full name is Synthia Wakeman, and the job has been in my family for generations."
I show her the picture of Dieter Wegener. "Do you remember this man?"
Her smile broadens as she recognises him, then it clouds as she recalls something.
"Ah, Dieter, I miss our conversations. I don't have many friends but I count him among them. He was only here for a month. We used to land on that rock that floats outside the station just to sit and talk. He was a dreamer, that one, and a bona fide genius to boot, but rather naive, you know?"
"What did you talk about? I need to find him, so anything you can tell me about what was on his mind would be a great help."
"So I was right; you're an investigator. I'm glad somebody finally came, I’ve been worried about him," she smiles again as she remembers him. "Dieter used to tell me about his plans for Stargazer. He wanted to turn it into some kind of reflector telescope with a big mirror set into the back wall. He wanted to attach thrusters to the asteroid so the access corridor could be oriented to point wherever he liked. The boulder we parked on was intended to be for the control system. He even left some kit over there."
This sounds crazy, but I take it on board, it's all part of the picture I need to build.
"You said you’re worried about him. Why is that? What happened to him?"
The cloud crosses her face again. "He left. I think it was voluntary, but he didn't say goodbye. I remember a Canonn-badged Cutter arriving with a fighter escort; it was about the time the Gnosis was in Maia. The Cutter left the same day and Dieter was on the passenger manifest when I scanned it. I’d just like to know that he's okay."
The Gnosis is a megaship owned and operated by the Canonn Interstellar Research Group, a highly respected organisation across a wide range of fields: astronomy, geology, archaeology, xenography. The ship is capable of hyperspace jumps up to 550 light-years and typically spends a week or two in each system it visits. If Wegener was taken to the Gnosis, he might still be on board. A thought occurs.
"Where's Dieter's ship? I mean he came here, probably from Merope, and brought a mass of equipment with him. Did he come in his own ship?"
Syn has the information in a flash. "He arrived in a vibrant yellow Type-6 with ninety-six tonnes of cargo…oh, I see what you mean…no, the ship never left…it's still here on Stargazer."
It's well after midnight as I wander from hangar to shipyard and back looking for Wegener's ship. I discover it's been moved to a hangar beneath a landing pad that's currently out of commission. There's a thick accumulation of dust over the hull and it's silent, cold, and dark in the cockpit.
I put some power into the HUD and it feels more cheerful as the string of lights around the canopy flicker into life. I turn to the comms panel and look at the inbox. The most recent message is dated 16Feb3304. It’s an invitation from Canonn to continue his research with them, fully funded, for three years. I find his acceptance in the sent mail. I can put Syn’s mind at rest that Wegener went of his own accord.
I browse through his data. Most of it is incomprehensible to my non-technical mind, but one document attracts my attention. It includes a diagrammatic longitudinal section of the Stargazer base. It looks like the telescope design that Syn had mentioned. I can see the mirror in the back wall and the control system on the nearby rock.
The diagram shows new components encircling the docking bay, and closer inspection shows lines drawn from these components with arrows pointing towards the mirror. The reflected lines form a parallel beam exiting the access corridor. I realise what I’m looking at. It’s some kind of weapon with a steerable, focused beam. My first guess is it’s a xeno-weapon. So, Wegener wasn’t only interested in hyperwitchspace; it seems he was interested in anti-Thargoid weapons too.
I copy everything and head to my own ship. I take what I think is a shortcut to my hangar; it’s a dark, narrow corridor. I’m half-way along when a man dressed all in black steps out of the shadows in front of me. He’s carrying what looks like a wrench, a big, hefty thing. His body language is not the friendliest so I turn to retrace my steps. A woman steps out to block my retreat. She’s dressed the same and carries a stun gun.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I ask her, nervously.
She doesn’t respond other than walking slowly towards me, weapon raised. Before I can decide what to do, the man has crept up behind me and has his arm round my neck. He’s squeezing so tightly I can hardly breathe. I squirm and twist frantically trying to pull his arm away but he’s too strong. He brings his mouth close to my ear.
“You’re trying to find Dieter Wegener. My employer has some advice for you. Stop.”
I feel the grip loosening. As he takes his arm away I notice the wrist strap of his flight suit has a broken buckle. As soon as I’m free and I think the attack is over, I feel the stun gun making contact from behind and the next thing is I’m convulsing in agony. I vaguely remember my head hitting the ground but then it goes black.
*
When I come round, three anxious faces are looking down at me. Between Syn and Corona I see a round, bespectacled, and well-fed face. The neatly trimmed beard adds an air of distinction and, as the rest of him comes into focus, I see his portly figure wrapped in an expensive suit and shoes that say one thing to me: lawyer.
I sit up and realise that I’m in a back room of The Mining Laser.
“Drink this,” Corona says, handing me a brandy. I take it and gulp it down and as my nerve endings begin to calm I look at the newcomer.
“And you are?”
“Gardner. Justin Gardner. I had the honour of serving Mr Elon Rask and now I am in the employ of his daughter, Agneta. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Commander Linton.”
“It was Mr Gardner who brought you here,” Syn says. “I went back to scanning ships after talking to you and he arrived at 2350 in an olive camouflaged Corvette, not long after two ATR Pythons. He went looking for you as soon as he got here.”
“So, what can I do for you, Mr Gardner?”
The lawyer smiles benignly. “I think you’re doing it, Commander Linton, by finding Dieter Wegener. You see, Ms Elonsdottir advanced a rather large sum of money to Mr Wegener to fund his research. Although the sum is insignificant to her, she does want to see the work carried through. Developing weapons and countermeasures against the Thargoids is high on her list of priorities. Wegener’s disappearance has raised shall we say...doubts about his intentions.”
“I won’t have that,” Syn bursts in indignantly. “Dieter was the most straightforward, open, and honest man I’ve come across.”
Her defence of Wegener is touching and I don’t have the heart to point out that she’s only comparing him to the vulgar, ill-mannered patrons who frequent Corona’s bar.
“I can put both your minds at rest,” I say, reaching for the file of documents from Wegener’s ship but discovering that they were taken by my assailants. “Dieter Wegener was invited to join Canonn Research on the Gnosis and he went willingly. I guess that’s where I’m going next.”
Gardner straightens up and fastens the button of his suit like he’s about to address the court.
“Very well, all that I ask is that you keep me and my employer informed of your progress. Oh, and one more thing. I was asked to make sure you are fully equipped to make your enquiries. To that end I am making my Corvette available to you; I saw your Asp Explorer when I started looking for you and I fear for your life if you continue flying it.”
I want to object to the insult to my beautiful ship but a stab of pain makes me pause, reminding me that I was attacked.
“Syn, you said that two Advanced Tactical Pythons arrived just before Mr Gardner. Who was flying them?”
“It was Eric Cobham and Maria Lindsey,” she replies as quickly as if I’d asked for her own name, “and they’ve been here before.”
“Really! When was that?”
It takes her longer this time but she soon has the answer. “That would be the nineteenth of February...or three days after Dieter travelled to the Gnosis.”
I pull the broken fragment of plastic from my pocket and turn it over in my fingers. I’m pretty sure it was part of Cobham’s flight-suit.
“So, Cobham and Lindsey were here after Dieter left. They were in his lab and my guess is they were making sure no evidence was left behind.”
“Evidence of what?” Corona asks, “and aren’t the security services supposed to be the good guys?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say, rubbing the bruise where my head hit the floor. “I suspect that Falco Bryce contacted them after I left his office and I’m pretty sure he’s hiding something. I’m surprised they forgot to look in Wegener’s ship; now I’ll have to go back and get another copy of his documents.”
“Not possible,” Corona says. “While you were unconscious and Mr Gardner was bringing you here, a fire alarm sounded and the news is that a vibrant yellow Type-6 was destroyed beneath pad twenty-one. Syn says it was Wegener’s ship.”
“I suppose Cobham and Lindsey are long gone. I have an idea, though.”
It’s a trick of this job to hold many seemingly unrelated pieces of information in your head and let them float in the air before your mind’s eye. As they jostle with each other they form and break loose connections and make transient patterns. Gradually pieces stick together and new pieces float into view that make the pattern more solid.
“Syn, will you fly with me over to Stargazer’s rocky companion and show me where Dieter left this cache of equipment you mentioned?”
“Sure, whenever you like.”
“Mr Gardner, does this Corvette of yours have a planetary vehicle hangar?”
“Yes, of course, with two scarabs fully maintained - well, never used in fact - my legal practice doesn’t require surface excursions,” he smiles. “Perhaps you will allow me to fly you to this rock you mention and I can show you around your new ship?”
*
My new Corvette outside Stargazer with its rocky companion to the left.
Half an hour later a very nervous lawyer is applying squirts of downward thrust to hold the Corvette against the surface of what seems to be no more than a speck of dust. It’s not an easy task and Syn and I have to put our faith in him as we roam the surface in the scarabs. This also requires great care to prevent us from floating away. It’s vital to keep the wheels on the ground and we crawl over bumps and through hollows.
“There,” Syn says over the voice comms, and she steers towards the three canisters of personal effects that show up on our scanners. They’ve been bolted to the surface but between us we manage to scoop them all and return to the Corvette. The much relieved Gardner pulls away from the surface and heads back to Stargazer.
Once docked we open the canisters and find masses of electronic kit, some of it only partially built. One object in particular grabs my attention.
The Corvette, of course, has a holovid projector and it doesn’t take me long to find Wegener’s crowdfunding bid.
“Using this device I have already detected ripples in the fabric of witchspace which I believe are caused by events occurring in v-space,” Wegener says while resting his hand on the black box of tricks that we’ve just now taken from one of the canisters.
“I’m sure this is important, but I don’t know why. It must be important to Wegener, so I’ll take all of this stuff with me when I fly to the Gnosis, but first I need to check out Lodestar Laboratory. Can I drop you anywhere, Mr Gardner? Take my Asp if you like.”
“Definitively not, thank you,” Gardner replies, “I’ll order a passenger mission or ask for one of the Rask fleet of biowaste transports to divert here. I wish you well, Commander Linton, and repeat my request for any information you can provide concerning Mr Wegener.”
I nod and then go to The Mining Laser to take my leave of Corona. Syn comes with me and I promise to let them know what I find out. Corona presses a parcel into my hand.
“It’s Eranin Pearl Whisky; shipped it in just for you. Keep the customers happy and they’ll keep coming back.”
We hug awkwardly and I leave the bar. Don’t look back, she might think you care...but I do care...don’t let her know that.
On the way to the docking bay I swing by Falco Bryce’s office. I burst in and tower over him at his desk; I can be quite intimidating when I want to be.
“Okay, Bryce, spill; what happened here between the tenth of January, when Dieter Wegener made his crowdfunding appeal, and the sixteenth of February when he went to join Canonn?”
Bryce quivers nervously, shrinking from the threat of my closed fists.
“It...it was chaos. Obsidian Orbital had been attacked, you must remember that. Everyone was scared. People wanted answers; they wanted a response.”
“I want specifics, not a history lesson,” I say, surprised at the anger in my voice, but then this is the man who ordered up my recent beating.
“Even then people could see that the Thargoids were targeting starports with an Aegis presence. When Dieter Wegener made his holovid it was a new line of research that wasn’t Aegis related. That’s why he had so many offers of support and, incidentally, why he went to Canonn rather than to Aegis.”
“Why were you so eager to clean that lab after he’d gone?”
“The truth is that Wegener made more rapid progress than even he thought possible. Strange tremors would run through the starport and all our clocks would suddenly start running faster. He had some kind of breakthrough and everyone got very excited. There was a meeting here when all the faction heads came over from Maia; even Professor Palin was invited.”
Now we’re getting to it. Politics arrives on the scene.
“So, that’s when it was decided to turn Stargazer into a weapon?”
“How...how did you know that? It was a crazy idea, one of many that came out of that lab. Then, suddenly, it all became top secret, highly confidential.”
I know how this goes. “There was a battle for Wegener’s intellectual property, I suppose. Factions squabbling over who got to control his inventions...and get the kudos for saving the galaxy from the Thargoid threat. So, everything left in his lab had to be gathered up and kept from prying eyes.”
“Exactly so, and then Cobham arrived.”
“What did he want?”
“He made me do things, things I’m ashamed of.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for one, he made me install a bug in Synthia Wakeman’s Sidewinder. It relays all of her scan data to somewhere in Maia.”
“Who are these ATR thugs working for?”
“I...I don’t know. I just have this number to call. I’m sorry Commander Linton, but I’m scared too.”
“Give.”
He gives me the contact number and I leave.
Alone now at the controls of Gardner’s Corvette, I ease the ship out of Stargazer and set a course for Merope.