Jaysn nearly paced a groove in the floor of the hangar lounge, continually looking through the large windows, eager for the arrival of his peers and the official start of the expedition. Tamana had not acknowledged his personal request to her for access to the dig site, nor did she even break radio silence to say hello. Was this punishment for missing the charter?
Wolff arrived just as the massive clanging of heavy machinery echoed through the room. Through the windows, they saw the external doors slowly part, revealing what appeared to be dusk but was midday as seen this far out in the system. The sun strained to crack through the atmosphere’s haze, reflecting off the planet’s pristinely smooth surface. Seconds later, a sleek, roughly cylindrical transport ship slid silently into the hangar, depositing itself and stopping at the far end. At once, the doors began to close again, with considerably less noise than they had opened with. A low rumbling sound followed as the hangar repressurized and reheated to life-sustaining levels.
The all-clear tone sounded, and the airlock opened. The two strode across the bay and arrived at the transport just as a silver-haired woman poked her head through the door and smiled only slightly upon seeing Jaysn. To their left, the twenty-foot-high receiving doors that led into the base interior opened, and a dozen or so robotic lifters entered and began unloading the ship.
“Disha!” Jaysn smiled and walked up to Tamana, extending a hand. “Welcome to LT-9.”
Tamana regarded his attire, smiled with only one side of her mouth, then shook his hand. “Dr. Katsaros. It has been a while. Thank you for coming under the unusual circumstances. I see you’re still fighting tradition through fashion,” she said, not entirely joking, then barely lifting her chin toward his outfit.
“While you remain positively radiant in lab-coat gray, even when you’re millions of miles from the nearest lab.” Jaysn smiled. Despite her gruff demeanor and his flippant attitude toward it, he greatly admired Dr. Tamana’s knowledge of biology and exobiology, both practical and theoretical. He assumed she also respected his work, since, despite her constant admonishment, she kept in casual contact with him more than anyone else in his field, occasionally seeking his opinion and advice, even while on a remote assignment when it was impractical. “Oh, and this is Major Wolff, our Engineering Corps liaison.”
“Yes, I remember the Major from Procyon and Wurren 6,” Tamana smiled and nodded cordially, then gestured to a slender, young blond woman to her right, engrossed in a holodisplay of some sort that projected off of a gold cuff bracelet inscribed with ancient Egyptian glyphs on her wrist. “Jaysn Katsaros, xenoanthropologist, this is Anita Solvig, our archaeologist.”
The word “archaeologist” gave Jaysn pause, as with “xenoanthropologist,” there were only a few, very specific reasons to require her presence. He filed it away with the rest of his paranoia. “Dr. Solvig.” He smiled and nodded. “I’ve read your work on the Gamma Morava expedition. Very insightful. In fact, I pictured … older,” he said in his most charming tone. The woman paused, smiled, and nodded to him, then went back to reading the display in front of her. He wasn’t sure she’d even heard him.
“And this is our geologist, Umar Amin,” Tamana continued, indicating a portly, middle-aged man in coveralls who was down on one knee, hastily taking items out of his pockets and placing them in a carrying case.
“Hi,” the man said with a gingerly wave that distracted him enough to drop a long metal rod of some sort that he was holding in the opposite hand. The tool bounced off the case and clattered around on the floor as he desperately tried to stop it from rolling away.
“In the back by the loader bots is Cari Clarc, our xenozoologist,” she pointed to a grim-faced woman with short-cropped black hair and a variety of cybernetic enhancements visible on her head and neck.
A hovercart slid out of the ship’s cargo hold and fell into line behind them. “Jaysn! It’s so good to see you again.”
Jaysn recognized the voice and the accent immediately. “Lev!” He smiled warmly. Syn. Dr. Lev Novik was a frequent collaborator with Tamana and, as a synthetic intelligence with expertise in two dozen disciplines, made for an indispensable asset on any team. The fact that Jaysn thoroughly enjoyed his company and considered him a good friend was a bonus. “This is great! Finally, a chance for some serious gourmet food and deep conversation. After four days of eating automated galley food, despite the major’s talent for making the last day more palatable, I hope you’ll cook something for us before tonight’s briefing. What was that stuffed cabbage dish you made for us on Procyon?”
“Golabki. I didn’t have a lot of room to bring my spice collection this trip, but Dr. Tamana stocked us with enough ingredients that I can throw something together, sure.” There was a slight pause. “Assuming our team leader doesn’t have other plans for us?”
Tamana shook her head. “No, Doctor, I assumed we’d all be settling in, but a nice dinner before the briefing sounds wonderful. I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”
“So,” Jaysn hastily interrupted, “an archaeologist, a zoologist, a geologist, an anthropologist, and yourself, a biologist – I assume we’re chasing a misplaced life form–”
Tamana pursed her lips and looked sternly at Jaysn. “Directorate is maintaining the Onyx level classification until the briefing, and I strongly advise against any speculation that might prejudice your judgment later. We’re only the preliminary survey team. Syn Dr. Novik can fill in any of the other roles, if needed.”
“Yes, of course, I was not questioning your judgment, and no disrespect intended, Lev.” Jaysn nodded to the drone.
“Everyone will be briefed together after dinner this evening,” Tamana cut him off. “Let’s concentrate on getting settled in and prepared for the mission.” She abruptly strode past him and into the base.
“I didn’t take offense,” Novik offered. “But I am curious as to whether you think I’m not up to the task of filling in the missing roles.”
Jaysn shook his head, not taking his eyes off Tamana as she left the hangar. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re up to it, Lev, I know you could fill any of our roles as well, if not better, than we can.”
“But…” Novik prompted him.
“But…” Jaysn sighed. “You have instant recall of probably every textbook written about those subjects, but there are always pet theories, obscure and unpublished ideas, hypothetical discussions that human experts have had that you aren’t privy to. Maybe you could come up with just as many wild, intuitive ideas as they can, but she basically told us to stop thinking. It’s obvious Tamana has some very specific knowledge about this expedition, and she’s trying desperately to control what we know or infer about it.”
“She is the only one on the team who has read the preliminary briefing, so yes, you would be right. Do you think she’s made an error?”
“I won’t know until after dinner, I suppose. I’m just not used to last-minute, on-site briefings. Usually, she provides us with all that information before we agree to go on these little jaunts; she even debates team composition with us sometimes. It’s not like her to be so secretive or to make these kinds of decisions without at least a warning.”
“Maybe it wasn’t her decision, or maybe she’s protecting us,” Novik offered.
“You mean: Maybe they found something a bit more significant than a crystal or a weird new species of bird this time. Oh, I can’t wait for tonight.”
It took less than an hour for Novik to fill the base with the warmth of simmering pots and the smell of a dozen spices. The switch from coffee to wine wasn’t doing Jaysn’s mood any favors. He was trying not to climb the wall in anticipation of the briefing, but everyone on the team was so irritatingly calm. Sure, betting odds said it wouldn’t be anything world-shattering, but there was just enough oddness that he couldn’t convince himself. The briefing, which would give them their first clues as to how the next week would go, was still three hours away, and he felt he could scream with excitement as he downed the last of his glass and grabbed the bottle for a refill, at least trying to season this moment properly.
“You’d better slow down on those, Tamana might expect your participation at the briefing,” Novik said, from the speaker grill of an all-purpose Class 1 worker drone. It was approximately the height of an average man with four multi-digit arms and a head-like sensory receiver to make the convention a bit easier to personify. He stood among three simmering pots, steam wafting from them and condensing on the walls as he gently stirred.
“Ah, but one of my great talents is my ability to perform better under duress, or mild intoxication,” Jaysn said, noticeably slurring the words. He caught sight of his reflection in the porthole and noted his arms were gesturing a bit too erratically. “Enough about me, though. What have you been doing for the past two years?”
“Environmental modeling and impact analysis at the terraforming station at the Kappa Vega colony.”
“They’re still terraforming? I thought twenty million people lived there?”
“Twenty-five, actually. They crossed over to self-sustainment five years ago, but unfortunately, the program didn’t hold, so they had to reactivate the station.”
“What happened?”
“What didn’t happen, you mean? Bad data to begin with, then the star went into an unexpected active cycle that was bigger than any that had been planned for, and as if that wasn’t enough, a near gamma burst from a binary system ten light-years away pretty much scrambled all of the work done building the upper atmosphere, but we managed to stabilize the situation and save the colony for now.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you to be the type to believe in luck,” Jaysn said.
“Why, because I’m a synthetic intelligence?”
“You’re a scientist.”
“It’s still a series of multiple unlikely events, what else would a scientist call it?”
“What about ‘corrections to chance fluctuations by meaningful and purposeful coincidences of causally unconnected events’ or something equally impressive-sounding?”
“I’m familiar with Wolffgang Pauli if you were testing me, Jaysn.”
Jaysn smiled and took another sip. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“A computer dismissing correlation metatheory because it’s not actual science while preparing a light supper?” a voice said in the doorway. Cari Clarc strode into the room and pulled up the menu on the food dispenser.
Ignoring the mild insult of Clarc calling him a “computer,” Novik maintained a pleasant tone. “Correlation metatheory is, by definition, largely unprovable, so it’s really little more than an amusing thought exercise.”
She removed a box, slightly steaming, from the wall and took a casual, disinterested sniff of the vapors. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
“I’m preparing a vegetarian jambalaya. Would you care for some, Dr. Clarc?”
Clarc arched an eyebrow. “So, let me ask you, do you see cooking as an art or a science?”
“Why can’t it be both? It requires a decent knowledge of chemistry and physics to understand when and how to trigger reactions in fats and acids, as well as a solid understanding of biology to comprehend the quantities and combinations of spices on the palate and taste buds. On the other hand, there is room for experimentation by adjusting spiciness, acidity, seasoning, even presentation and garnishing that can alter the perception of a dish and evoke different feelings in those who eat it.”
“And he doesn’t even mention that we’ve opened a rather good Chianti if metaphysical discussions of food aren’t your thing,” Jaysn offered, gesturing to the bottle on the counter.
Clarc smirked, pulled down a metallic cup from a shelf, and grabbed the bottle, pouring a modest amount before sniffing and gingerly tasting the vintage.
“So, am I to assume I’m living up to your expectations and everything you’ve heard about me then?” Jaysn continued, not missing a beat.
Clarc didn’t flinch. “Dr. Tamana told me you were very intelligent, but rash, so I’ll give you that one. Aiko Sasaki told me you’d pout for the entire mission if I didn’t at least pretend to like you.”
Jaysn raised an eyebrow at Sasaki’s name and smiled, shaking his head. “I just think this is a rare experience to be treasured, not ruined by unspoken subtext or hostility.”
“This?” Clarc laughed, arching an eyebrow at the wine.
“A gathering of comrades, old friends, and potential new friends. The eve of a joint discovery that will be the focus of our professional lives for weeks to come. A remote world only a couple of dozen people have, or likely ever will, set foot on.”
Clarc rolled her eyes. “Another job, another paper, another boring debriefing answering the same dozen questions as always, starting with, ‘When do you think you’re going to find something worth writing about?’”
Novik placed two steaming plates on the table, then a spoon next to each. “The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time. Please open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing,” he said quietly, then paused without moving.
“Amen,” Jaysn said, smiling as he grabbed the spoon.
Clarc seemed taken aback. “What?!”
Novik rolled backward several centimeters, startled. “What?”
“Did you just say grace?”
“I did. I’m sorry, but I find it comforting to most people. Did I offend you?”
“I’m not offended, it’s just … a synthetic mind that enjoys cooking, but can’t eat, says prayers to a God he can’t believe in, thanking him for synthetic ingredients he pulled out of a wall dispenser and stirred into a stew?”
“Who says I can’t believe in a higher power?”
“Religion is man’s way of explaining things he doesn’t understand about his nature. So, what do you need with a god?”
“Need isn’t a prerequisite for gratitude. In any event, a higher power is, at minimum, a simpler hypothesis than Jaysn’s poetry about ‘meaningful coincidence.’”
“What if that’s what God is?”
“What if it isn’t, though? That’s the fun of the mystery, isn’t it? I can still give thanks to that higher power on the off chance that it listens.”
Clarc sat, squinting at Novik’s drone form, visibly irritated. Whether by a compelling need to argue or by the possibility of what Novik was suggesting, Jaysn could not tell. She leaned back, still scanning him, looking for something, then finally took a sip from her glass and appeared tentative, as if searching for the right words. “Do you believe you have a soul, though? That you will eventually meet this higher power?” she asked at last.
“Belief in a higher power doesn’t require belief in the soul or an afterlife.”
The door opened again, and a technician wearing an elaborate tool belt entered the galley and headed straight for the airlock. He was flanked by two guards. One of the guards stood by the exit to the living quarters; the other took position by the airlock after the tech stepped inside. Both watched the room with eyes that said, “test me.” Jaysn had caught Sol Defense emblems on the tech’s tunic and a corporal’s rank badge. The guards had no visible insignia, military or otherwise, which felt worse to him. He had no doubt that Novik was quietly assessing the situation as well. If Clarc noticed, she gave no indication. “But do you believe you have one?” she prompted again.
“I believe, synthetic or biological, we are both machines with a capacity for thought and a desire for intelligibility. We each store information, whether electronically or electrochemically. If there’s such a thing as a soul, that is where it lives. The form is more important than the physical.”
Clarc nodded smugly. “SI theology. I should have guessed.”
Lights flickered and the room shuddered as the low thrum of equipment powering up was added to the omnipresent din of the air recycling units. Seconds later, the tech reappeared in the airlock, cycled the doors, and exited the room as he had entered. The guards loitered a few seconds, visibly surveying the three scientists before turning and leaving.
Clarc took the first spoonful of Jambalaya. “You’re a surprisingly good cook, though it’s not quite spicy enough for my tastes.”
One of the drone’s segments rotated 180 degrees, retrieved a container of cayenne pepper from the counter, and handed it to Clarc. “So, what about you, Doctor?” Novik asked. “Do you think I have a soul?”
“The Hebrew word is ‘nephesh,’ which most commonly translates to ‘life’ or ‘person.’ The concept of a ‘ghost presence’ with life breathed into it by God came from that. So, I’ll grant you’re a person of sorts, but I don’t believe in the mystic part. When I lost this arm, did I lose part of my soul with it?” She held up her left arm, and Jaysn noticed it was cybernetic for the first time, a high-quality one at that. “If my ‘information,’ as you put it, is just data in the Phrame or a simulation in a psytron matrix? Is that my soul or a copy of my soul? Sorry, I’m a xenozoologist. You want a philosopher for those answers.” With that, she grabbed her bowl, stood up, and turned toward the door.
“I’m sorry if I offended you; it was not my intent,” Novik said quickly.
“You don’t need to simulate guilt for my sake. I just prefer to eat in my quarters. I’ll see you both at the briefing.”
Jaysn exhaled sharply once she was out of earshot. He grabbed the bottle she had left and refilled his glass without looking. “She definitely doesn’t like us, Lev.”
“Her file shows a very long history of disdain for synthetic intelligences. Not sure what she has against you, though.”
“I just have a long history of getting on ladies’ bad sides. Why doesn’t she like syns?”
“No idea. I’d ask, but she clearly doesn’t like answering questions either.”
Umar Amin walked into the room, reading from a holopad and headed straight for the pot on the cooktop, sniffing the air. “Clarc? Her father was an SI. They don’t speak anymore, and she doesn’t trust them at all,” he said matter-of-factly, then pointed to Novik’s jambalaya. “I’m buried in work, so I can’t make dinner. I could use a quick bite. Mind if I try some?”
“Have a seat,” Novik offered, gesturing to the chair next to Jaysn with one appendage as he collected a plate, fork, and a ladle with the other three.
“Her father?” Jaysn prompted the man to continue.
“Yeah, long story, not mine to tell, you’ll have to ask her.” Amin didn’t lose a beat as he went back to reading. “Is that cayenne?” he asked, reaching for the spice container and sprinkling its contents on his food without bothering to confirm the label and shoveling another spoonful into his mouth, then noticed the drone was watching him intently. “This is delicious, by the way, Dr. Novik. I’ve had jambalaya before, but this has a delicate and unique nuance to it,” he raved between chews, not bothering to look up from his datapad.
“Thank you, Dr. Amin. It’s my secret ingredient. My unique contribution to the tradition. Jaysn begs me to reveal it, but while I won’t have a grave, I will keep the secret until I meet my equivalent,” Novik said, clasping two of his appendages together and lowering his mechanical “head” slightly in mimicry of a human expression of gratitude and humility.
“How do you even know all this?” Jaysn asked.
Amin shrugged. “We hung out a lot on the trip over, and she told me one night while we were playing Latrunucli.”
Jaysn seized on the opportunity to change the subject. “I really regret not getting to spend the last few days getting to know you guys. I wish I could have made it in time. What’s Dr. Solvig like?”
“Very intelligent, and not afraid to let you know it. In fact, if you can’t keep up with her or impress her within the first ten or fifteen minutes you meet her, she has very little use for you, socially, it seems. The night before we left, I’ll bet everyone at the reception tried to chat her up, but only two or three didn’t get the immediate cold shoulder. After that, we hardly saw her. She spent most of the trip out here in her cabin. She seems friendly enough. Apologized for not socializing but said she was working on co-writing a publication that was taking up all her time.”
“Jaysn, remember what happened last time you tried to fraternize with a team member,” Novik admonished.
Jaysn rolled his eyes. “You still haven’t mastered subtlety, have you, Lev?”
“I believe open and honest dialogue is essential for keeping cohesion in a team such as this.”
Tamana wandered into the room. “That smells wonderful, Dr. Novik.” There was no expression on her face as she grabbed the ladle and stirred the large pot a few times, taking in the vapors. She regarded the wine with an arched eyebrow. “Dr. Katsaros’ selection, I presume?”
“You don’t approve?” Jaysn grinned, attempting to get any reaction out of the woman.
“It’s fine. I just would have thought you’d pair Sauvignon Blanc with the seafood and keep it in moderation, so you’d be intellectually sharp at the briefing.”
Jaysn flushed like a scolded schoolboy but pretended not to be fazed by yet another dressing down from her that made him feel like one of her first-year undergrad students. “It’s vegetarian. Besides, the tomatoes would cripple a white. Wait until you try it, I think you’ll be surprised.”
“Jaysn, I trust your judgment in food and wine, just as I trust your skills and instincts as a scientist. It’s your personal judgment that gives me pause, so please don’t be late again.”
