Breach of Containment. Elizabeth Bonesteel

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СКАЧАТЬ space where things can go wrong without broadcasting to the whole ship.”

      The box containing the artifact was sitting on a table, next to a haphazard stack of spanners. “Is it safe to open?” she asked.

      “The one thing I know,” he told her, “is that if there’s anything radioactive in there, it’s contained by whatever shielding it’s got.” He gave her a look. “You want to wait outside?”

      She shook her head, and he opened the box.

      The artifact was, she thought, about as anticlimactic as it could be. It was a flattened cube with rounded edges and corners, done in a gray polymer. If it had been sitting in a corner of the ship, she wouldn’t even have noticed it. Easy to camouflage, she thought. Easy to make someone pick it up without thinking.

      Ted took a breath, extended a finger, and touched the cube.

      After a moment he lifted his hand and touched it again, then laid his palm on the surface. He took it out of the box and held it with both hands, threaded it between his fingers, tossed it into the air and caught it again. He looked across at Jessica. “Nothing.”

      “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?”

      “I mean,” he said patiently, “I’m not getting anything, comms or otherwise, and monitoring is showing no signal.” He placed it back into the box. “If I hadn’t looked at Lanie’s comm myself, I’d have guessed she just hit some kind of random interference.”

      Jessica frowned down at the artifact, suddenly ominous in its nondescriptness. “Is it possible that’s what happened?”

      “Sure. But if it’s not this thing that scrambled her comm, there’s something roaming out in the wild doing it. Besides, she said Jamyung heard it, too, remember?”

      She looked over at him. Something had occurred to her, but she didn’t want to share it yet. “Maybe it’s the comm,” she said. “Something Lanie’s and Jamyung’s had in common.”

      “Maybe it doesn’t like the new ones,” Ted mused. “I could put my old one on and try it again.”

      She shook her head. Regardless of the persistent inertness of the thing, risking Ted felt like an extreme response. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” she said. “There’s more we can find out without getting reckless. How thick is that inert polymer?”

      “About half a centimeter.” He caught on to her thoughts. “You want to shave it, see if we get something stronger?”

      She nodded. “Slowly. We see anything, any kind of a spike, and we stop right away.”

      Ted pulled on safety gloves and removed the artifact again, clamping it securely against the tabletop. He could have used a hand spanner, but instead he mounted a mechanical one, setting it over one of the artifact’s narrow sides. “This will dig a micron at a time,” he told her. “As soon as it hits a variation in any reading at all, it’ll stop.”

      And it was this exercise that gained them a result. The mechanical spanner stopped at 350 microns. “Anomaly detected,” it said, and projected what it had found. Jessica recognized it instantly.

      Dim, incomplete, and fading: it was the magnetic shadow of a comm signal.

      This was Jessica’s field. “I need an amplifier,” she told Ted, “and something that’ll extrapolate for me.”

      “Extrapolation is awfully inexact.”

      “Less inexact than just hacking it in half,” she pointed out, and he left to find the tools.

      She spent the better part of an hour on the shadow, focusing on the smallest fragments she could find, telling Galileo what she did and did not want the ship to consider important. Galileo might have made entirely different choices, if Jessica had left it to the automated systems. None of this was precise, and it irked her cryptographic mind to be analyzing a potential weapon with what were basically guesses.

      In the end, what she had was a muddled mess, but if she listened to it in just the right way, she could believe it was fragments of someone speaking. “Or dogs barking,” she said aloud, disgusted with herself. “Or maybe bats. Shit, Ted, this is meaningless.”

      “Probably,” he agreed. “But see what you get from the extrapolator.”

      They had to give the tool parameters. Yes, they thought it was human speech. Yes, they thought it was a known language. Yes, they thought it was recent. Yes, they thought it was a comm signal. She sat back and listened to the iterations. The extrapolator was focusing on the rhythm of it, the rise and fall of the tone; they had said speech, and the extrapolator was finding words.

      “This is a chicken-egg thing, Ted,” she protested. “Nothing we hear will—”

      Cytheria, the extrapolator said.

      So much for doubts. She turned to Ted. “Did you hear that?”

      He nodded. “Let it iterate a few more times.”

      But having heard it, she couldn’t unhear it. Cytheria. And then, a few iterations later, a second word emerged, further down the stream: Chryse.

      “What the hell?” Ted said, frowning.

      But Jessica hit her comm to look for Greg. “Captain?”

      He answered immediately. “What’s the matter, Commander?”

      “Nothing. Everything’s—well. We’ve maybe got something on this … thing of Elena’s, sir. Do you still have the comm of the distress call you received on Yakutsk?”

      “Of course. Hang on.” There was a pause, and the message played over her comm: This is an automated distress call. This is Cytheria, off of the PSI starship Chryse. We are in need of retrieval. Repeating. We are in need of retrieval.

      “Galileo,” Jessica asked, “what are the odds that’s the message we’re trying to reconstitute?”

      “Rhythmic and tonal match eighty-five percent certainty,” the ship said.

      “Greg,” she said into her comm, “you should probably come down here.”

       CHAPTER 12

       Cytheria

      Elena left Galileo wrapped in the familiarity of a shuttle she had flown a hundred times. The hum of the engine, the responsiveness of the controls, the curve of the front window with the tactical display overlaying her view of the stars—it was at once soothing and heartbreaking. Nightingale didn’t sound like Galileo, but Elena knew the shuttle’s music nearly as well, and she wanted nothing more than to stay where she was, eyes closed, and listening to the engines, possibly for the rest of her life.

      Galileo’s melodies had not changed. Elena hadn’t even noticed until she realized what she was missing: that СКАЧАТЬ