Part 8 (1/2)

”Precisely,” she replied. ”Throw enough warm bodies at the barricades, and any defense will go down. In a native uprising, there are generally hordes of fervent fanatics willing to die in the cause and go straight to Paradise. Accelerating, Alex.”

He gave her a thumbs-up, and she threw him into his seat. He merely raised an eyebrow at her column and kept typing. ”There must be several different variations on that theme. Let's see-you could have your Desecration of Holy Site Uprising, your Theft of Ancient Treasures Uprising, your Palace Coup Uprising, your Local Peasant Revolution Uprising. Uh-huh. I can see it. And when you've overrun the base, it's time to line everyone up as examples of alien exploitation. Five executioners, no waiting.”

”They normally don't kill except by accident, actually, or in the heat of the moment,” she told him. ”Most native sophonts are bright enough to realize that two hundred of Central Systems' citizens, a whole herd of their finest minds and and their dependents, make a much better bargaining chip as hostages than they do as casualties.” their dependents, make a much better bargaining chip as hostages than they do as casualties.”

”Not much comfort to those killed in the heat of the moment,” he countered. ”So, what's the next culprit on the list?”

”The third, last, and most common,” she said, a bit grimly, and making no effort to control her voice-output. ”Disease.”

”Whoa, wait a minute-I thought that these sites were declared free of hazard!” He stopped typing and paled a little, as well he might. Plague was the bane of the Courier Service existence. More than half the time of every CS s.h.i.+p was spent in ferrying vaccines across known s.p.a.ce-and for every disease that was eradicated, three more sprang up out of nowhere. Nor were the brawns immune to the local plagues that just might choose to start at the moment they planeted. ”I thought all these sites were sprayed down to a fare-thee-well before they let anyone move in!”

”Yes, but that's the one I'm seriously concerned about.” And not just because it was a bug that got me. And not just because it was a bug that got me. ”That, my dear Alex, is what they ”That, my dear Alex, is what they don't don't tell you bright-eyed young students when you consider a career in archeology. The number one killer of xeno-archeologists is disease.” tell you bright-eyed young students when you consider a career in archeology. The number one killer of xeno-archeologists is disease.” And the number one crippler, for that matter. And the number one crippler, for that matter. ”Viruses and proto-viruses are sneaky sons-of-singularities; they can hibernate in tombs for centuries, millennia, even in airless conditions.” She flashed up some Inst.i.tute statistics; the kind they ”Viruses and proto-viruses are sneaky sons-of-singularities; they can hibernate in tombs for centuries, millennia, even in airless conditions.” She flashed up some Inst.i.tute statistics; the kind they didn't didn't show the general public. There was a thirty percent chance that a xeno-archeologist would be permanently disabled by disease during his career; a twenty percent chance that he would show the general public. There was a thirty percent chance that a xeno-archeologist would be permanently disabled by disease during his career; a twenty percent chance that he would die. die. And a one hundred percent chance that he would be seriously ill, requiring hospitalization, from something caught on a dig, at some point in his life. And a one hundred percent chance that he would be seriously ill, requiring hospitalization, from something caught on a dig, at some point in his life.

”So the bug hibernates. Then when the intrepid explorer pops the top off-” Alex looked as grim as she felt.

”Right. Gotcha.” She laughed, but it had a very flat sound. ”Well, sometimes it's been known to be fortuitous. The Cades actually met met when they were recovering when they were recovering from from Henderson's Ch.o.r.ea-ah-or so their biographies in Henderson's Ch.o.r.ea-ah-or so their biographies in Who's Who Who's Who say. There could be worse things than having the Inst.i.tute cover your tropic vacation.” say. There could be worse things than having the Inst.i.tute cover your tropic vacation.”

”But mostly it isn't.” His voice was as flat as her laugh had been.

”Ye-es. One of my-close friends is Doctor Kennet on the Pride of Albion. Pride of Albion. He's gotten to be a specialist in diseases that get archeologists. He's seen a lot of nasty variations over the years-including some really odd opportunistic bugs that are not only short-lived after exposure to air, but require a developing nervous system in order to set up housekeeping.” He's gotten to be a specialist in diseases that get archeologists. He's seen a lot of nasty variations over the years-including some really odd opportunistic bugs that are not only short-lived after exposure to air, but require a developing nervous system in order to set up housekeeping.”

”Developing-oh, I got it. A kid, or a fetus, provided it could cross the placental barrier.” He s.h.i.+vered, and his expression was very troubled. ”Brr, that's a really nasty one.”

”Verily, White Knight.” She decided not to elaborate on it. Maybe later. To let him know I'm not only out for fortune and glory. Maybe later. To let him know I'm not only out for fortune and glory. ”I just wanted you to be prepared when we got there, which we will in-four days, sixteen hours, and thirty-five minutes. Not bad, for an old-fas.h.i.+oned FTL drive, I'd say.” She'd eliminated the precise measurements that some of the other sh.e.l.lpersons used with their brawns in the first week-except when she was speaking to another sh.e.l.lperson, of course. Alex didn't need that kind of precision, most of the time; when he did, he asked her for it. She had worried at first that she might be getting sloppy- ”I just wanted you to be prepared when we got there, which we will in-four days, sixteen hours, and thirty-five minutes. Not bad, for an old-fas.h.i.+oned FTL drive, I'd say.” She'd eliminated the precise measurements that some of the other sh.e.l.lpersons used with their brawns in the first week-except when she was speaking to another sh.e.l.lperson, of course. Alex didn't need that kind of precision, most of the time; when he did, he asked her for it. She had worried at first that she might be getting sloppy- No, I'm just accommodating myself to his world. I don't mind. And when he needs precision, he lets me know in advance.

”Well, let me see if I can think of some non-lethal reasons for the dig losing communications-” He grinned. ”How about-'the dinosaur ate my transmitter?'”

”Cute.” Now that their acceleration had smoothed and they were out of the atmosphere, she sent servos snooping into his cabin, as was her habit whenever a week or so went by, and he was at his station, giving her non-invasive access. ”Alex, don't you ever pick up your clothes?”

”Sometimes. Not when I'm sent hauling my behind up the stairs with my tail on fire and a directive from CS ordering me to report back to my s.h.i.+p immediately. immediately.” He shrugged, completely unrepentant. ”I wouldn't even have changed changed my clothes if that officious b-” my clothes if that officious b-”

”Alex,” she warned. ”I'm recording, I have to. Regulations.” Ever since the debacle involving the Nyota Five, all all central cabin functions were recorded, whenever there was a softperson, even if only a brawn, present. That was regulation even on AI drones. The regs had been written for AI drones, in fact; and CS administration had decided that there was no reason to rewrite them for brains.h.i.+ps-and every reason why they central cabin functions were recorded, whenever there was a softperson, even if only a brawn, present. That was regulation even on AI drones. The regs had been written for AI drones, in fact; and CS administration had decided that there was no reason to rewrite them for brains.h.i.+ps-and every reason why they shouldn't. shouldn't. This way no one could claim ”discrimination,” or worse, ”entrapment.” This way no one could claim ”discrimination,” or worse, ”entrapment.”

”If that officious bully bully hadn't insisted I change to uniform before lifting.” He shook his head. ”As if wearing a uniform was going to make any difference in how well hadn't insisted I change to uniform before lifting.” He shook his head. ”As if wearing a uniform was going to make any difference in how well you you handled the lift. Which was, as always, excellent.” handled the lift. Which was, as always, excellent.”

”Thank you.” She debated chiding him on his untidy nature and decided against it. It hadn't made any difference before, it probably wouldn't now. She just had the servos pick up the tunic and trousers-wincing at the ultra-neon purple that was currently in vogue-and deposited them in the laundry receptacle.

And I'll probably have to put them away when they're clean, too. No wonder they wanted him to change. Hmm. Wonder if I dare ”lose” them? Or have a dreadful accident that dyes them a nice sober plum?

That was a thought to tuck away for later. ”Getting back to the dinosaur-com equipment breaks, and even a Cla.s.s Three dig can end up with old equipment. If the only fellow on the dig qualified to fix it happens to be laid up with broken bones-in case you hadn't noticed, archeologists fall down shafts and off cliffs a lot-or double-pneumonia...”

”Good point.” He finished his ”housekeeping ch.o.r.es” with a flourish and settled back in his chair. ”Say, Tia, they're all professorial types-do they ever just get so excited they forget to transmit?”

”Brace yourself for FTL-” The transition to FTL was nowhere near as distressing to softpersons as the dive into a Singularity, but it required some warning. Alex gripped the arms of the seat, and closed his eyes, as she made the jump into hypers.p.a.ce.

She never experienced more than a brief s.h.i.+ver-like ducking into a freezing-cold shower-but Alex always looked a little green during transition. Fortunately, he had no trouble in hyper itself.

And if I can ever afford a Singularity Drive, his records say he takes those transitions pretty well....

Well, right now, that was little more than a dream. She picked up the conversation where it had left off. ”That has happened on Cla.s.s One digs and even Cla.s.s Two, but usually somebody realizes the report hasn't been made after a while when you're dealing with a big dig. Besides, logging reports const.i.tutes publication, and grad students need all the publication they can get. Still, if they just uncovered the equivalent of Tutankhamen's tomb, they might might all be so excited-and busy doc.u.menting finds and putting them into safe storage-that they've forgotten the rest of the universe exists.” all be so excited-and busy doc.u.menting finds and putting them into safe storage-that they've forgotten the rest of the universe exists.”

He swallowed hard, controlling his nausea. It generally seemed to take his stomach a couple of minutes to settle down. Maybe the reason it doesn't hit me is because there's no sensory nerves to my stomach anymore Maybe the reason it doesn't hit me is because there's no sensory nerves to my stomach anymore....

But that only brought back unpleasant memories; she ruthlessly shunted the thought aside.

”So-” he said finally, as his color began to return. ”Tell me why you aren't in a panic because they haven't answered.”

”Artifact thieves would probably have been spotted, there aren't any natives to revolt, and disease usually usually takes long enough to set in that takes long enough to set in that somebody somebody would have called for help,” she said. ”And that's why CS wasn't particularly worried, and why they kept countermanding the Inst.i.tute's orders. But either this expedition has been out of touch for so long that even would have called for help,” she said. ”And that's why CS wasn't particularly worried, and why they kept countermanding the Inst.i.tute's orders. But either this expedition has been out of touch for so long that even they they think there's something wrong, or they've got some information they didn't give us. So we're going in.” think there's something wrong, or they've got some information they didn't give us. So we're going in.”

”And we find out when we get there,” Alex finished; and there wasn't a trace of a smile anywhere on his face.

Tia brought them out of hyper with a deft touch that rattled Alex's insides as little as possible. Once in orbit, she sent down a signal that should activate the team's transmitter if there was anything there to activate. As she had told Alex several days ago, com systems broke. She was fully expecting to get no echo back.

Instead- You are linked to Excavation Team Que-Zee-Five-Five-Seven. The beacon's automatic response came instantly, in electronic mode. Then came the open carrier wave. The beacon's automatic response came instantly, in electronic mode. Then came the open carrier wave.

”Alex, I think we have a problem,” she said, carefully.

”Echo?” He tensed.

”Full echo-” She sent the recognition signal that would turn on landing a.s.sistance beacons and alert the AI that there was someone Upstairs-the AI was supposed to open the voice-channel in the absence of humans capable of handling the com. The AI came online immediately, transmitting a ready to receive instructions ready to receive instructions signal. signal.

”Worse, they've got full com. I just got the AI go-signal.”

She blipped a compressed several megabytes of instructions to give her control of all external and internal recording devices, override any programs installed since the base was established, and give her control of all sensory devices still working.

”Get the AI to give me some pictures,” he said, all business. ”If it can.”

”Coming up-ah, external cam three-this is right outside the mess hall and-oh sh.e.l.lcrack-”

”I'll second that,” Alex replied, just as grimly.

The camera showed them-somewhat fuzzily-a scene that was anything but a pretty sight.

There were bodies lying in plain view of the camera; from the lack of movement they could not be live bodies. They seemed to be lying where they fell, and there was no sign of violence on them. Tia switched to the next camera the AI offered; a view inside the mess hall. Here, if anything, things were worse. Equipment and furniture lay toppled. More bodies were strewn about the room.

A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature in her sh.e.l.l held her in thrall. Fear, horror, helplessness- Her own private nightmares- Tia exerted control over her internal chemistry with an effort; told herself that this could not not be the disease that had struck her. These people were taken down right where they stood or sat- be the disease that had struck her. These people were taken down right where they stood or sat- She started to switch to another view, when Alex leaned forward suddenly.

”Tia, wait a minute.”

Obediently, she held the screen, sharpening the focus as well as the equipment, the four-second lag-to-orbit, and atmospheric interference would allow. She couldn't look at it herself.

”There's no food,” he said, finally. ”Look-there's plates and things all over the place, but there's not a sc.r.a.p of food anywhere.”

”Scavengers?” she suggested. ”Or whatever-”

Whatever killed them? But there are no signs of an invasion, an attack from outside- He shook his head. ”I don't know. Let's try another camera.”

This one was outside the supply building-and this was where they found their first survivors.