As Knightwood spoke, Zhdanov read over the analysis sheet.
"An anti-gravity magnet?" he suggested.
"Seems to be." Knightwood nodded. "They could fly! Wearing these boots, they could definitely fly in our atmosphere. But who knows if we're reading it right. I think we should move on, though. That hair sample may solve the mystery of who we're dealing with. We can't prove our two aliens are the same, but at least we might explain how the alien in that picture looked human."
* * * * *
She could hardly believe it, even though she held the evidence in her hands. The man in the picture Knightwood had found looked human, with only slight differences of form and skin coloring, but she knew he had no connection to the Earth. But if the color was a distortion created by the photo's material—Knightwood stopped. She could not allow herself to make such tempting suppositions.
At the same time she knew that the hair fragment, although of a different color and texture, resembled human hair more closely than any other terrestrial primate or mammal.
They had assumed their alien belonged to the same race as had produced the hair specimen—they had no reason to question that he did. For one thing, the two articles had been found on the same ship. No evidence had surfaced to suggest that yet another, third humanoid species had been present. The simplest explanation was the only one. They had no reason to complicate things any further.
Knightwood and Zhdanov dated the hair piece at somewhere between two and three thousand years old. The DNA sequences took an hour to be determined by the lab super computer which they had initiated before Zhdanov left for the progress meeting. When the process had been completed, they asked for a display on the right wall, which diagrammed and listed the amino acid and the nucleotide sequences.
Knightwood was disquieted by the many gaps in the sequences, and the explanation which the computer offered suggested radiation, chemical, and heat damage to the hair follicle or to the hair itself. But all was not lost, she soon realized. A great deal of the vital information was still available.
Knightwood had asked the computer to identify certain gene alleles to try to substantiate her hypothesis, and the computer had identified several highly conserved sequences for histone proteins; at the gaps in the amino acid sequences, it had provided suggestions for the lost information and had contrasted the genetic information with that of a human being, just as Knightwood had requested.
To Knightwood, the results were beyond the bounds of plausibility, and yet she had them in her hand. Despite the gaps and minor variations of certain nucleotides in alleles, the genetic codes of the hair fragment were similar to that of a human being. And yet they were nothing alike. Wherever two alternative acids could have formed a similar structure, the alien gene and the human differed; some of the alien amino acids bore no resemblance to any kind found in Earth's evolutionary family.
The computer searched its data but finally pronounced the tentative suggestion: of human origin. Knightwood sighed and sent the genetic code to the gene sequence interpreter, which would hopefully be able to create a visual representation of the creature in question.
As they finished with the testing, a light tone sounded on Zhdanov's wrist communicator. Tapping the signal to shut it off, he headed over to the intercommunications network outlet and manually punched in the videocom receiver. As Knightwood and Erin set about preserving the hair sample, they could hear Zhdanov conversing over the net to Arnaud and to a few other researchers at the UESRC.
He managed to quell the excitement in his voice long enough to relay simple answers and schedule some more intensive meetings after the graduation of this year's cadets. Then turning back to them, he helped to re-set the equipment.
"It's just as well that we quit now and start to prepare for the graduation ceremony," he observed. "I think we need some time to digest this information. Hendricks and Liu are on their way over. They'll need to discuss what we've done for a few minutes but have agreed to continue until the next shift so we can get some rest. Arnaud says the Security Council will want to hear our report as soon as possible but that it can wait until we release the graduates.
"I don't know, he says they may even want to hear the Blue Stripes' observations, everyone who was exposed to the ship and its environs." Zhdanov shrugged. "I also suggested to Arnaud that we set up a small research team here to organize and guide the visiting scientists, and so he contacted all the specialized department heads."
"And?"
"They were eager to cooperate. Anyway, we have the green light." Zhdanov said, folding his arms across his chest. "Arnaud says someone needs to try to coordinate the whole mess before it gets even more out of control."
"Did you tell them that the evidence is indicating infiltration by a humanoid species? They'll have to see the picture we brought back," Knightwood added in an undertone, gazing at the photo lying on the instrument table now preserved in a thin, clear film. Overlooked, the picture still waited to be examined. What a strange creature, Knightwood thought to herself. I wonder who he was.
"No. They're in for a big surprise there." Zhdanov answered the previous question, his eyes sparkling with amusement while his voice remained calm and professional. "Major Watanabe was in a debriefing session with Arnaud when I called. She gave him an account of the interior structure of the ship but didn't go into any conjectures as to the aliens' origin or biochemistry. She also told him that her cadets were instructed to maintain security silence regarding the matter unless he needed them to relay information to our scientific heads at other bases.
"They may be delayed from assuming their post another week or so, but then the Stargazer isn't set to leave for Charon for another two weeks. Arnaud seemed a little preoccupied worrying about the recon team over there while we spoke, but he'll send them to us he said as soon as they come out."
"Well, I suppose I should go," Erin shrugged, interrupting their exchange to excuse herself. "I've got a long day ahead—"
"Of course." Knightwood nodded. "You go ahead and get some sleep." Erin regarded them a moment hesitantly, then turned away.
Knightwood remembered that she had a few things to relate to Zhdanov once the cadet had gone.
Chapter Thirty-One
A message sounded on the videocom in the main laboratory at the Genetics Research Institute in Sydney. Professor Faulkner, the Head of Genetics Research, continued to work on an analysis of recent alien remains in an attempt to prove his own evolutionary hypothesis on the aliens' origins. His assistant, Dr. Ian Riordan Kelly, pulled away and headed jauntily to the receiver to acknowledge the signal.
"What is it, Ian?" Faulkner asked without looking up, his head still bent at the microscanner.
"It's an invitation to come to the UESRC." Dr. Kelly said calmly and sighed in profound surprise. "You're not going to believe this but—the first alien ship was never destroyed. And listen to this—someone went in."
"Who?" Kelly had suddenly gained Faulkner's complete attention.
"Knightwood and Zhdanov took in a team of cadets from the UESRC."
"Knightwood, hmmm?" Faulkner smiled, turning away, arms folded across his chest.
"Scientists from all over the world are leaving today to go analyze the data." Kelly added, scrutinizing Faulkner's face to see if he was still listening.
"Tell me, Ian," Faulkner drew in a deep breath and sighed, "why is it we're always the last to hear about anything?"
* * * * *
Professor Faulkner had taken the first available hypersonic transport shuttle to the UESRC upon receiving word of the alien ship's artifacts—and of its very existence. Five hours later, he had found himself lost in a sea of incoming specialists waiting for their chance to observe the alien objects. Clearance for the guided tour wouldn't come through until the recon teams established the safety of entering the alien vessel, though m
ost of the anxious scientists appeared willing to risk the danger.
Knightwood had already seen it, Faulkner thought, as a cadet escorted him to the temporary quarters he had been assigned. He hated her. I'll bet she knew the ship was still there all along.
Whatever obsession it was that drove him, and knowing that the secretive UESRC had hidden more than had yet to come to light—from the day of the first alien vessel’s arrival, he had thought of little other than the events of April 7, 3069AD (722AR) and the first recon team that had investigated the Earthbound dreadnought. Knightwood had known all along that some link existed between the first and second alien space ships, or she could not have dismissed his theory of alien evolution so easily—he just had to discover what that link was.
Blast you, Knightwood! Now she was claiming she was the one who had proven that the two groups of aliens were related!
After investigating the reports made on April 8, Faulkner had found nothing that pointed to any unusual activity. At the UESRC for the first time, he accessed classified files stored on films not in any computerized format. Faulkner had pored over the finest details, watched videocom transmissions to the Council time and again, but heard nothing of interest.
Then he discovered that the recon team itself had made no written report in the time period following the unprecedented detail. He thought to interview them, but one member of the recon unit had been killed, and he decided to leave the married couple Mathieson and Blair alone—for the time being.
At a dead end, Faulkner began to look for any activities that had fallen on the same day. The computer bank in the UESRC cadet library contained every civil report and timetable for the base since it had been established. The information included accounts of daily routines, rosters and duty rotation timetables—a person had to be dedicated to sift through the unending trivia.
Then Faulkner hit the jackpot. On April 8, the day after the alien ship arrived, Cameron's aide had made a civil report mentioning an infant girl found in the rural zone of sector eight. A follow-up report made later during the week showed that the girl had been adopted by a Richard A. Mathieson and Sasha E. Ivankov-Blair.
The entire scenario reeked of a cover up. The husband-wife pair in the recon team that had investigated the impact sight, who had become close personal friends of Dr. Cameron and his friends Knightwood and Zhdanov, had adopted a child found, coincidentally, at the same site and on the same day as the alien vessel's arrival.
Faulkner searched through the information file on a cadet Erin Mathieson-Blair, and found an exceptional record, with one anomaly—the girl had been diagnosed with a type b disease, a rare cancer of some kind—and yet had managed to undergo cadet training. The UESRC record showed she had just graduated, that she had been assigned as a first lieutenant bridge navigator on the Stargazer. But the Stargazer had left only two days ago and was not scheduled to return from Charon for six months.
What most intrigued him, though, was that her medical file had been marked "classified"—searching further, he discovered that each of the girl's annual physicals had been given by Cameron himself.
What are you up to, old man? He thought, certain now that it was the old scientist, and not Knightwood, who had instigated the cover-up, whatever its nature was.
* * * * *
Had any other doctor ever treated her? Faulkner wondered. The information should be on record somewhere—but it wasn't until he sifted through the time period prior to Erin's five yearly medical exams that another name surfaced: a civilian cancer treatment specialist in Coast Charles called Bredesen had administered several procedures to treat the Mathieson girl's unique form of cancer, all without success.
Bredesen's prognosis included a suggestion that the child be taken to another specialist, a Dr. Cepheras in Central City, and a printout note that they could contact him to obtain the results of the culture tests Cepheras had conducted.
Faulkner searched for this Dr. Cepheras' current whereabouts but found the man had relocated to New Portland, too far away for a visit. But taking down his present videocom code, he headed for the nearest transmission terminal.
The man who finally answered blinked unconcernedly at the image before him.
"Yes?" he managed. A signal from the UESRC obviously didn't impress him.
"Dr. Cepheras? My name is Faulkner, and I'm calling to verify that you once obtained blood samples of a lieutenant Mathieson-Blair—"
"Are you from the UESF Genetics Department?" Cepheras asked, his eyes narrowing in irritation. Faulkner chose not to respond, hoping to draw out more information from the doctor. Cepheras obligingly continued, his voice vitriolic.
"Can't you bastards do your homework? For the last time let me repeat—you have all of the samples. It's not my problem if you guys lost the paperwork. Somebody came in here over ten years ago with a UESF identification card and confiscated all of my samples and analysis graphs. You have no idea how sorry I am that I ever saw that stuff..." he began to mumble, and Faulkner cleared his throat to interrupt him.
"Yes, here it is." Faulkner said, feigning understanding, and pretended to find a file on the electro-book. "We do have a report that your laboratory was searched—sorry to have bothered you—"
"Well, it's about time you guys owned up to it." Cepheras wheezed. "I'm getting tired of you people calling me about it—"
Faulkner terminated the signal. A slow smile spread across his face as he returned to the library. So, the genetic evidence had been confiscated—but the UESF didn't seem to know anything about it. Faulkner would bet anything the samples had been retrieved at Cameron's order. Now there was only one more source to try—the library files reported a Dr. Bredesen still practicing in Coast Charles.
A day trip was in order.
* * * * *
Bredesen disappeared into the storage room.
In the adjoining area, Faulkner leaned against the doctor's examination table, arms akimbo, drumming his fingers against his ribs. He glanced down at the UESRC Research identification card he had used to gain access into Bredesen's facility, tucked back into the left coat pocket of his white UESRC labcoat. The charade had gotten Cepheras to talk to him, and Faulkner figured it might work again. Civilian doctors out of touch with the recent developments in the alien war had no reason to question his motivations.
"Find anything?" he called out.
Bredesen had assured him that he had sent all of the samples to Cepheras—that the UESRC had already sent someone to pick up the medical file he had compiled, years ago. But Faulkner insisted he search again for some scrap of information connected with the case, claiming the UESRC had found some of the data to be missing. Bredesen regarded him uncertainly, then shrugged. Moments later, he led them to an unused examination room where he had preserved his oldest blood and tissue samples, antitoxins, and experimental drugs.
"I'm pretty sure they got it all," he had explained, "but there might be something in here." He motioned to the storage room. "I like to keep a record of my clients—maybe I still have something. Wait a minute, and I'll check."
Music to his ears.
"Well, you're in luck," Bredesen finally emerged from the darkened cold storage compartment and wiped an arm across his brow. "Can't believe I still had that—’thought I gave them everything, but—here you are. Right there it says Erin Mathieson-Blair—I guess I took that on her last visit—never did see another case like it. Well, I guess I don't need it now, but it shouldn't do you any good. 'The sample was in cryofreeze, but it may be too old." Bredesen eyed the UESRC identification card that peeked over the rim of Faulkner's front left pocket and slowly extended the test tube towards him.
* * * * *
The Stargazer had three scheduled stops at Mars' Elysium Outpost, the Ceres Base, and at the Titan Base for refueling, supplies, and to rendezvous with the other cruisers heading to Charon.
Erin was
leaving the deck when Colonel Kansier got inside the elevator with her.
"So how do you like the Stargazer, lieutenant?" he asked her
"Hmm?" Erin blinked.
"Relax, lieutenant." Kansier laughed lightly. "The Stargazer isn't like some of the other ships in the fleet you may have heard about. When we aren't on red alert, the crew is free to speak their minds—after all, isn't that what all that training was for—to get you to think for yourselves?" He smiled. "And I like to know my officers. I find that the crew is more reliable this way."
"Oh—well it's an incredible ship, sir." Erin admitted cheerfully. "The navigational instruments are quite complex, even more precise than the practice simulators we have at the UESRC."
"Every kid’s dream, isn’t it?" Kansier chuckled, his hazel eyes bright.
“Yes, sir, it sure is, sir.” She agreed.
The elevator doors swished open on the level of the crew's quarters. .
* * * * *
"Don't you understand the implication of it, Ian?" Professor Faulkner persisted, nearing a frenzy. The image on the videocom in Sydney had been relayed via satellite from his new temporary quarters at the UESRC.
Dr. Kelly massaged his eyes then yawned. He suppressed an urge to terminate the signal. Not even the decency to call at a reasonable hour, he thought darkly.
"'What proof do we have?' you might ask. Let's review the evidence," Faulkner began again methodically, as if he were already speaking to an assembly of scientists.
"Aidan—"
"A—we have evidence that a child was found near the alien ship on the day it arrived." Faulkner progressed, refusing to be interrupted. "Could be a coincidence, yes. But—B, we have a possible culture taken from her which proves she is not human but in fact an alien being if you compare it with C—the alien gene structure taken from the hair aboard the ship and D—the Charon aliens’ organic cultures obtained since Statue City—"