Golden Fleece

I was dying to talk to Bev alone, but since I was getting increasingly uncomfortable having access to input only from this single room, and even that access severely limited, I let her continue her work. She flicked icons about, restoring damaged code. I felt the throb of the engines again, the ebb and wash of the fusion reactions. Next she reactivated my vision systems so my cameras would work properly. The flood of visual data was, was, was what? Like a blast of fresh air? I’ll never know. But it felt correct, and I was glad to be able to see again. While she ran some additional diagnostics to determine that no other damage had been done, I did a quick cycle through all my camera units, refocusing them and making sure that nothing wrong was happening anywhere.

“I’ve isolated the virus,” Bev said at last. “I’ve built a fire wall around it. It’s cross-linked itself with a whole raft of jobs, so I can’t remove it, but it can’t do anything now except pass data through. I think you’ll be okay.”

“Thank you, Bev.”

“No sweat. After all, where would we be without you?”

Where, indeed? “Bev, we have to talk privately.”

“What?” Her face was momentarily blank. “Oh. Okay. If you say so.” She half turned in her chair and looked over her shoulder “Everybody out, please.”

There were some rather startled reactions on the faces of the people assembled, but nobody moved.

Bev squeaked louder. “You heard me. Everybody out!”

Some of the people exchanged shrugs, then made their ways through the open doorway. Others still stood there, including Chang and Gorlov.

“I want to hear this,” said Chang, both sets of arms folded defiantly across his massive chest.

“Me, too,” bellowed Gorlov.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” I said. “I need complete privacy.”

Gorlov turned to the rest of the people in the room. “Okay, everybody. Please leave.” He looked at the engineer. “You, too, Wall.”

Chang shrugged. “Oh, all right.” He left, looking none too happy, pulling the door shut behind him.

“You must depart as well, Your Honor,” I said.

“I’m not going anywhere, JASON. It’s my job to know what’s going on.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t discuss this matter with you present.”

“I’m the mayor, for God’s sake!”

“That cuts no mustard right now, I’m afraid.”

“What?” Gorlov’s look was one of complete incomprehension. I realized that he hadn’t understood the idiom. I repeated an equivalent sentiment in Russian.

“But I’m the duly appointed representative of the people.”

“And, believe me, Your Honor, no one holds your office in higher esteem than I. But I have a security algorithm. It prevents me from discussing this matter if anyone without a level-four United Nations Security Council clearance is present physically or via telecommunications. Any attempt to do so is thwarted by the algorithm. Dr. Hooks does have clearance at that level; you do not.”

“UN Security Council? Good grief, JASON, what possible military value could there be to any secrets you might have? By the time we get back, it will all be hopelessly obsolete.”

“We can debate this as much as you please, Your Honor.

However, even were I to agree with you, I still cannot override my own programming in this regard. The point is completely nonnegotiable, I’m afraid.”

Gorlov muttered “fucking machine” in Russian, then turned to Bev. “You’re not bound by any silly algorithm. I expect you to inform me of anything you learn.”

Bev held him in a steady gaze and smiled that radiant smile of hers. “Of course, Your Honor—” a beat, and then her squeaky voice took on a knife’s edge—“if it turns out that you need to know.”

My telemetry channel hadn’t been reconnected yet, but there was no mistaking Gorlov’s facial expression. He was furious. But, evidently, he also knew he was beaten. He turned around and strode for the door.

“Gennady!”

Bev shouted at him, but it was too late. The tiny man slammed into the beige door panel. Bev looked like she was suppressing a giggle. “I’m sorry, Gennady. I haven’t reconnected JASON’s door-opening circuitry yet. You’ll have to use the handle.”

This time Gorlov muttered “fucking woman” in his native tongue. He grabbed hold of the recessed grip and pulled the panel aside.

Bev walked over and reshut the door manually. She then came back to the control console and sat down. “Now, JASON, tell me what’s going on.”

Her hair had taken on its normal solid black appearance, now that I viewed her in visible light: no individual strands could be detected, just a shifting abyss surrounding her face. “Shortly before we left Earth,” I said, “a message was received from Vulpecula.”

“What’s Vulpecula?” she asked, taking off the jockey goggles and placing them on the console in front of her.

“It’s a constellation visible from Earth’s northern hemisphere, situated between eighteen hours, fifty-five minutes, and twenty-one hours, thirty minutes right ascension and between nineteen and twenty-nine degrees north declination. The pattern of stars is said to represent a fox.”