Outworld Asylum

Leda woke and rubbed her hands over her face, then she sat up and looked at the clock sitting the nightstand next to her bed… 4:15 A.M. She ran her fingers through her hair, allowed her arms to fall, and said, "Christ and Allah."

The feeling at the base of her spine was a chill of unease that refused to allow her any more rest for the time being, so she threw back the covers and rolled off the air cushion mattress. She padded down the steps and into the kitchen in her gossamer nightgown. The display on the refrigerator indicated ½ carton of Milk, so she opened the door and removed the carton to pour herself a glass that, once consumed, was usually enough to calm her stomach.

She took the glass and carried to the computer station in the living room, set the glass down and sat herself at the ergonomic chair she'd "liberated" from her office the year before. Her system was linked to the Lands-Connect global network, her primary source for news, chat, shopping, and other diversions. She had a particular address bookmarked and visited frequently… SecondSite… a secure interactive group used and maintained by Type-3's. The gateway appeared with a prompt demanding "LOGIN." Her username was Lanterngirl. The AI that controlled the site would interact with her while she was logged on, asking questions about her welfare and social activities to validate her identity for the duration of her visit. When she entered the interchange, four screens opened and began scrolling the text of various dialogues going on, giving her the chance to familiarize herself with the topics of discussion before tapping in to the audio feeds. She recognized the user ID of someone she was friendly with, user-name Ravenclaw, and touched on the box the name was contained in… Leda assumed Ravenclaw was a he… and entered the dialogue. A greeting from him appeared almost instantaneously.

"There's a lot of people awake tonight," Leda said and looked down the list of users connected to the site… more than 500… no faces, just names. "Is it always this busy?"

"I'm a night person so I'm usually up," Ravenclaw said. "But it's never this busy. I'm starting to get a little worried."

"Why? What are people talking about?" Leda said and sipped from her glass. "Catch me up."

"I don't know…" Ravenclaw said. "It seems like everyone is on edge tonight but noone is quite sure why. There's a lot of paranoia… people are talking about feelings of being watched… or about bad dreams. I'm not sure what to make of it."

"Has anyone talked to Tallbridge?" She said and leaned forward on her elbows. The user ID's for the most talented Type-3's she knew were not on the list. "Or what about Valentina? What do they say?"

Ravenclaw shrugged and said, "Tallbridge was in here earlier. He said that he's sure there's something going on in Sol system but he's not sure what. He said that he didn't think it was necessarily bad and advised everyone to stay calm. Did you get a reading?"

"Like everyone else apparently," Leda said. "Just the odd feeling that I was under observation by someone or something. For some reason I got the impression that Neptune was involved."

"It's confirmed then," Ravenclaw said. "You're not the only one who got that. I just wish we had one of our people out there to give us some firsthand reads. I guess we could FOIA the NorCom government but you know how long that takes. It takes less time just to wait for Pan-galactic to report it."

"No point in doing that," Leda said and watched her words appear as text in the dialogue scroll. "We can't expect them to tell us anything we don't already know. Do we have anyone on any ships that are outbound?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Ravenclaw said… his accent marked him as Norcom-Canadian. "I wish Argent were here. He'd know what to make of all this."

"SOLCorp has him on lockdown," Leda said and sighed. Argent was especially good at interpreting signs but his parent company, the interstellar fuel conglomerate, was not big on sharing his talents. "Totally incommunicado. He's been off the radar for months."

"I'm AWARE of that," Ravenclaw drawled and was silent for several moments. When he spoke again there was an uncertain weariness in his voice that wasn't there before. "I just hope Bainbridge is right. The last time we were all worked up like this was right before the Procyon Crisis and before that… the Neo-Colonial War."

"All before my time," Leda said and drained her glass. "But if that's the case then all we can hope for is the best."

"Is that what you're telling your controllers at TIL… hope for the best?"

"I doubt they'll ask," Leda said and wondered if Artemis Cutter knew anything about the developing situation around Neptune that she didn't. "I'm sure if it were anything serious, they'd have greater minds than ours working on it."

Ravenclaw snorted and said, "Speak for yourself, sister."

As she was about to logout, a text line from Carat, of Lagos, Nigerian Republic, caught her eye. Silver is hot and flows away. Argent was the Latin name for Silver. Immediately a thought popped into her head. That he was in dangerous circumstances. Persecution of Type-3's by small-minded paranoids was nothing new. It had been happening for over 1000 years, starting with the Mediveal period of Old Earth. A period recalled by many Type-3's as "the burning times."

***

SS Mordicai

"What happened to the Captain?" Jena wondered aloud as she paged down through lists of actions the computer logged as having been ordered and completed since the ship entered Sol system. "How did he get off the ship?"

According to the logs, the waste containment systems onboard were flushed every 24 hours, and had been shortly after the ship emerged from transit. An airlock had been opened when the ship was 4 days into the system. There was no record of the ship's boat being detached for any amount of time, nor was there a record of any outside craft docking with the ship during that same period, nothing was logged as coming anywhere close. There were no direct radio contacts except with Tau Beacon. All of her search queries had been exhausted when a red light on the dark communications panel caught her attention as it began blinking. The ship was being hit with a transmission.

She unbuckled herself from the command chair and floated across the bridge to the commo station. Once she had lowered herself into the seat mounted in front of it, she patched the feed through to her headset and depressed the flashing button.

"SS Mordai… Lieutenant Mitchell speaking," She said and took her finger off the button. "Go ahead."

"This is the Customs Authority frigate number twenty-two-oh-eight," The reply came back almost instantly. "Captain Chubb speaking. We have you in sight and expect to rendezvous within twenty minutes, over."

"Glad you could join us," Jena said and shivered as she felt the weight of a planet lift off her shoulders. "We've been expecting you, over."

"Affirmative, Mordicai," Came the reply. "Forgive our tardiness… it's been a busy few days."

The Customs frigate was much smaller than the Mordicai, but even so was enough to deliver a jolt to the larger freighter as it docked, Jena could feel it through the hull. After the shock passed, the screeching sound of the docking collar being engaged came through the hull. She waited outside the main boarding hatch for the cavalry to arrive. After several moments she heard the sound of someone banging on the outer hatch with a wrench and authorized the computer to open it. A man in a Customs Authority uniform was the first one through and saluted her as best he could without gravity.

"Are you Lieutenant Mitchell?" He said. Jena nodded. "I'm Lieutenant Bower… ship's first officer. Captain Chubb sends his regards and asks if there's anything you need urgently."

"Just to get the hell off this ship and back on solid ground," Jena said and sighed. Behind Bower she could see a relief crew ready to board. "We have one prisoner under guard. I need him transferred to your ship as soon as possible. I assume you have a holding area?"

Bower nodded and said, "Yes ma'am. A proper brig."

"This way," Jena said and drifted toward the interior of the Mordicai. "The sooner we get him transferred the better. Then one Mister Huxely is not my problem anymore."

***

Sol-4/Mars

The Customs Authority facility took up a large area of the Olympus Mons spaceport. Viewed from orbit, the structure resembled a rectangle placed near the southern rim of the large crater the spaceport was built into. At ground level the facility took on more massive proportions... as long as a soccer stadium and five levels high. The frigate FF-2208 detached from the Mordicai, descended to the surface, and threw up a cloud of gray dust as it landed outside the line of demarkation strobes flashing around the building. A transfer crawler rolled up beside the ship and extended a conduit that locked onto the ventral docking collar.

"I'm not sure what the protocol in this situation is but if the prisoner is as guilty as you believe him to be, he forfiets all rights to salvage and so it should transfer to you and your crew," Captain Chubb of FF-2208 said as he opened the hatch and stepped through into the conduit. He was of medium build but had broad shoulders that required a pause to manuever through the hatch. "The value of the freighter alone is probably worth several million... that's without taking into account the value of the cargo. I'd say you and your people are about to become quite happy."

"I'll be happy if Huxely gets the DeepCore for what he's done," Jena said and ducked her head under the hatchway to followed Vivaldi through. It felt strange to be back to Mars so soon. "And when I get back to the Constellation I'll be ecstatic."

"Command asked us to bring you along once we made orbit," Chubb said as he led off down the conduit for the crawler. "They found something that might have a bearing on your case."

"What is it?" Jena said distractedly as she watched workers in spacesuits moving around the FF-2208's heavy landing gear, each strut as big around as a large Oak tree.

"A body," Chubb said and Jena was immediately attentive again. "Dressed in an Outworld Alliance uniform identified with the SS Mordicai. It's been transported from the Triton Solcorp station to our facility here. Command wanted you to have a look at it. There's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"It's radioactive," Chubb said as he reached the open hatch of the crawler and stepped inside. "The Solcorp people couldn't get close enough to do an examination so they sent it to us inside a lead-shielded box."

He dropped into a padded seat. Jena sat in the one beside him.

"The solar storm really put a strain on our resources," He continued as Jena complied and strapped herself in. "We've got ships in distress out there that we still haven't gotten to. Command got wind of your situation with the Mordicai and gave it priority. Wherever there's a scandal there's always someone waiting to take advantage of it. I guess some people are sniffing for a promotion."

Jena removed the small case she'd stored the Serentity samples in from a cargo pocket and shook it. She offered it to him and said, "Can I ask a favor?"

Chubb took the box and, with a quizzical look, said, "Of course."

"There are some samples in there that I need analyzed," Jena said as he opened the box. "We found them onboard the Mordicai. All we could tell is that there's an unknown compound worked into the ingredients that we couldn't identify. I'm hoping your people can."

"Serenity... the real Transterran kind... interesting," Chubb said and capped the sample box. "Where did you find these?"

"Inside the crew quarters," Jena lied. "Bio samples from all the victims showed that they were full of this stuff... only our medic thought that it was manufactured using a different formula. I'm curious to know what the extra ingredients do."

"No problem," Chubb said and slid the sample box into his breast pocket. "I'll deliver the results to you personally. Of course, this may raise other questions that command will need answering."

"At this point I've got nothing but time," Jena said. "I appreciate your help, captain. The Customs Authority has been most gracious."

"Think nothing of it," Chubb said and looked over his shoulder as Tali and the rest of Jena's crew began filling the seats behind them. "If you're free later I'd be honored if you'd join me for dinner. Have you ever been to the Harvest House? They have the finest Martian cuisine on the planet."

"Once," Jena said and thought of Hurricane as the crawler uncoupled from the frigate and began moving, rolling forward toward a massive door opening in the front of the Customs Authority structure. "And I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I'd be happy to make a return visit."

Jena turned as Tali cleared her throat.

"Have we been booked on any ships heading for the frontier yet?" Tali whispered and gave Captain Chubb a hostile look. The Customs Authority officer was preoccupied with a transmission from the frigate so it went unnoticed.

"Not yet," Jena said. "Command needs us here for the time being. They haven't specified a departure date. We stopped being masters of our own destiny when we signed up for the Navy. Keep that in mind."

"Ok, Jena. I mean, aye-aye, ma'am."

Hazardous containment was on the second level, above the pressurized vehicle garages, and once the transfer crawler was empty, Chubb led her to a lift and up to the next floor, nearly deserted except for the few Customs Authority people lingering at the observation window built into one particular room.

"This is it," Chubb said and waved the onlookers aside. Jena stepped up to the window and peered through. Several people in protective suits could be seen moving around a body laid out on an examination table. "You'll need to change if you want to have a closer look."

Jena nodded and reached for the door switch but Chubb stopped her with a hand to her arm. When she turned to him he said, "I'll take the samples you wanted up to the lab and meet you back here in an hour."

"Fine." Jena said and triggered the door to the anteroom just inside. Several hooded, full-length protective suits hung from pegs screwed into the wall. She found one that was patched with sealant tape and scuffed in places but it fit. Work going on around the body stopped as she triggered the interior door and stepped through.

"Stop! Who are you! What's your clearance?" The group leader said and held up a hand as she came into the examination room.

"Jena Mitchell, NorCom fleet. My team and I brought the Mordicai in," Jena said, her words were muffled by the facemask of the hood protecting her head. "Command wanted me to have a look at the body."

"Ok, you're expected," The team leader, identified as Rico by his nametag, waved her closer until both stood at the foot of the metal examination table. "Subject is a male, approximately fifty years of age, graying hair, beard. Cause of death is negative pressure trauma and exposure to hard vacuum."

"This is him alright," Jena said as she let her eyes drift up to the frozen face of the deceased. "The captain of the Mordicai. I guess now I know who he got off the ship."

"How can you tell?" Rico said.

"He's the one that made all the entries into the ships log," Jena said and several objects resting on a smaller table next to the body caught her attention. Something metal the size of a Old Earth matchbox, several ID cards, a heart locket on a gold chain. She nodded toward them. "That tells me he was in command. What're these?"

"Personal effects we've found so far," Rico said as Jena moved to examine what they'd found. She picked up the box first. It was light and filled with circuitry. "That's a rescue transponder. It's good thing he had it on him, otherwise- who knows, he may never have been found."

"I know," Jena said and set the ball back down on the tabletop. "Captain Chubb briefed me fully once he took over the Mordicai."

The name on the various ID's was Joseph Conrad. She'd never known his name before. Captain Conrad was smiling in all the pictures, a warm, pleasant grin different from the rictus of death frozen into the face of the body on the table. Jena turned as she heard something clicking-crackling. A technician was sweeping over Conrad's body with a small Geiger counter. During its time in orbit the body had absorbed significant radiation.

"Is this it?"

"We haven't been searching long," Rico said. "Only for ten minutes before you got here. Why do you ask?"

"This doesn't make sense," Jena said and let her eyes travel the length of the body in front of her. "Why would someone take an unsuited spacewalk with a rescue transponder in his pocket?"

Her mind raced. If Huxely put the Captain out an airlock then why would he want the body to be found? To make a point? To make a spectacle? Her mind cycled through the many interviews between Huxely and Judicial Advocate that she'd sat through. Huxely had, from hour-1, maintained that the Captain was homicidal but never mentioned how he found his way outside the ship. If Huxely helped him out then why would he want the body to be found?

The truth came as a flash, insight filling her head like an atom bomb blast, she knew- finally she knew. Jena turned to Rico and said, "There's a confession in one of these pockets. I'm sure of it."

They found a folded paper hidden in the dead man's back pocket. Rico opened it and read through the contents aloud.

"I killed them. The blood of my crew is on my hands. My faithful ship, my Mordicai, has become a tomb thanks only to the madness that I cannot control. I have betrayed all trust placed in me by the Outworld Alliance and by those who served under my command. I can no longer endure the memories of their gruesome faces, or hear the sounds of their screams ringing in my mind. I am guilty and so sentence myself to the death I deserve. I commit myself to the great, eternal void. May God have mercy on my soul," Rico offered the paper to her and said, "How did you know?"

Jena accepted the note and read the handwritten lines. She folded the paper again, set it with the artifacts of Mordicai's dead captain and said, "Because someone needed an alibi."

***

Huxely sat alone on the foam mattress spread out on the floor of his well-lit cell. By prison standards it was spacious and had enough room for three more people. Martians, however, could not spare the resources to support a prison population. Their criminals, upon conviction, were sent directly to SolMax.

"There've been some new developments regarding the Mordicai. When our people were unloading the cargo, they found several cargo containers filled with an illegal product… Serenity… several bulk tons worth."

Jena turned away from the observation window as Chubb came up behind her. She managed a surprised look and said, "You're kidding."

"Not about something like this," Chubb said and leaned forward to look into the cell at their prisoner. "The rough estimate is that the seizure was worth several tens of millions of credits. Word of it got leaked to the press and now they're all over us. So this is him, huh?"

"Yes."

"He doesn't look that dangerous," Chubb said and looked away from the cell to her. "He's so skinny that I could probably punch a hole through his chest."

"Maybe so, but he's smart," Jena said and folded her arms across her chest. "He's probably laughing to himself as we speak about getting away with mass murder. I'd love to flush him out an airlock… just to see the look on his face as he depressurizes."

"You seem so sure… but there's just no evidence," Chubb said and shook his head. "I know how you feel and I'm sorry to say that… but I've seen what you and your people collected and there's nothing that proves he did it. We can't try a case on circumstance."