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  Fortunately, Regent Cordez had recognised the mining boss’ skills, and promoted him to head of the Prometheus project. Finch was a lot easier to say than Florenchantaine, his given name, and Finch was what he was know by throughout the sprawling moon base. Why he might be nicknamed after a busy little bird had never occurred to her.

  Celia turned the idea over in her mind. Was there time for a research mission to the Rothii planet? It had been a little over a year since the Invardii had driven the Sumerians from one of their outermost colony planets, and the Sumerians had now lost four of their eleven colony worlds and gas giant moons. The Invardii were likely to reach Earth in another eight months or so.

  She couldn’t believe it had come down to this. Humanity had been in space for nearly 200 years, and they’d had stardrive for 110 of those years. All of that endeavour, all of that hope and aspiration, about to be cut short by a vastly superior race that simply wanted them gone, and didn’t give a reason.

  But in one way that was the very reason she should lead a team to Ba’H’Roth. Since the odds were so desperately against them, they had to find something, a million to one discovery that might level the playing field. She sighed. It looked like she had talked herself into going.

  What she thought about the trip on a personal level was another matter. She had never been to the Rothii home world, and the thought stirred her blood. Even though she had to admit it was unlikely they would find anything. So much research had been done on the abandoned planet. Thousands of years of Sumerian outposts on the planet had surely cleaned out whatever Rothii technology remained.

  On top of that, Ba’H’Roth had been one of the planets attacked by the Invardii, and the Invardii groundships had been very specific about their targets. Any remaining Rothii structure, and especially the Rothii databases, had been very thoroughly destroyed.

  Then she reconsidered. That was not the only way to look at the situation. It was a rule of research work to put new faces into old sites as often as possible. What seemed finalised to one researcher could open a whole new raft of questions to another.

  Finch had said as much. He wanted to see the cradle of civilisation in this sector of the universe for himself before he accepted it had given up all its secrets. On a personal level, rather like Celia, he had wanted a break from running the Prometheus project. Celia agreed with him. A jaded mind missed things. They should really take a break, and a new challenge would be perfect.

  Later on the same afternoon, Finch was thinking about Jeneen. He was pacing back and forth in his office near the top of the tallest of the Prometheus towers, high above the moon’s surface. Jeneen had stabilised, and seemed to have regained control of her muscles. The bad news was the fact she was deathly tired, and even the slightest movement was an agonising effort.

  The first medical tests had come back, and they hadn’t shown anything. Since it appeared to be a condition of the nervous system, it might take tests at a cellular level to uncover the problem. And that left him with a dilemma.

  Should he take this problem to the Druanii? When should he use the little cube Subthree had left him for emergencies? He stopped pacing, and sat down, putting his head in his hands.

  There were only six people who knew the Druanii even existed, and Finch had given his word he would keep it that way. He suspected that if the rapidly advancing Invardii knew the Druanii were in contact with him, it would mean total war between the two races. Not that the Invardii knew of the Druanii, as far as Finch was aware.

  The elusive Druanii lived at the very edges of the galaxy, and in the vast spaces beyond it. It had been Finch himself, and his team when they were working the opencast mine that was now Prometheus, who had helped an unmanned Druanii ship.

  Cordez had already known about the strange aliens when Finch finally confessed the extraordinary incident, but then the Regent seemed to know everything. And later Finch had been with Cordez’ stardrive pilot Geelong when Subthree ‘dropped in’ with a Druanii message.

  The memory of that moment still made Finch laugh. Geelong had been the first to notice the growing ball of smokey light that had formed at the back of the small cabin. Geelong was piloting Cordez’ personal star liner, with Finch as his only passenger, on a trip from Cordez’ South Am headquarters to the newly opened Prometheus.

  “Ah, ah, there!” had been Geelong’s incoherent words, as he pointed frantically. Finch turned round, and smiled when he saw the smokey ball, which now seemed to have reached its final size.

  “Not a problem, Geelong,” he had said quietly, though the aboriginal pilot looked at him like he was mad. But then Geelong hadn’t seen Druanii technology at work before.

  When the ball cleared, it was hard to tell if they were looking at an underwater scene, or a desert. A sizable rock waved its seaweed tentacles at them in a friendly way. Subthree was an Orion, one of an entire race that had been moved to a secret location by the Druanii to ‘keep them out of harm’s way’.

  Subthree was needed as a translator because Human thought was linear, whereas Druanii thought progressed along multiple lines at once. Subthree’s thought patterns were somewhere in the middle, and the creature had interpreted both ways in the following discussion, with much last-minute replacement of words and long pauses. It had worked, after a fashion.

  Finch reached into his desk and took out the featureless metal cube Subthree had left behind. It was an emergency phone, a way of contacting the Druanii if the situation changed dramatically, and especially for the worse. Did Jeneen’s situation meet those criteria? Was this that sort of emergency?

  This was when the responsibility of command made impossible demands on him. Every single person working on the Prometheus project had the right to expect he would do everything he could for them in a crisis, but he couldn’t contact the Druanii every time a medical condition worsened at the base. Jeneen, though, was essential to the defence effort. Could he, should he, value one person above another because of their importance to Prometheus?

  Finch realised his world view was changing. Life had been comfortable with the plodding Sumerians as Earth’s only neighbours, and any chance of meeting the far more advanced Rothii being remote. Now he knew about the Invardii and the Druanii, two super races that were shaking up his way of life, and that was just the ones he knew about. Suddenly, the universe was getting crowded.

  Finch waited until the third, and most detailed, batch of tests was back, and called Celia to his office. It took him a moment more to find Geelong, currently on tug duty as long-haul freighters from Earth or Mars came in, and tell him he was needed down at the base.

  When Celia arrived, Geelong was already there. Finch introduced them, and Celia remembered seeing Geelong at the huge canteen that Prometheus provided around the clock. His distinctive colouring was hard to miss.

  “Geelong is one of six people who know what I’m about to tell you,” explained Finch carefully. Then he told her about the Druanii, and how much the reclusive aliens had helped Prometheus.

  Celia was surprised, but not shocked. She researched alien artefacts for a career, and the Druanii dropped right into place as another race, and another culture, for her to study.

  When Finch described his last meeting with the Druanii, and showed her the cube, she began to realise why he had called her into his office.

  “You think the Druanii might be able to help Jeneen,” she said, hope rising within her. Geelong looked at Finch. The two men had been discussing this when Celia came in. Finch’s mind wasn’t made up on this either way as yet.

  The last of the tests, using an electron microscope, had shown degradation at a cellular level. In effect there were pinprick holes through every cell wall in Jeneen’s body, and the condition was worsening. This had not yet led to a deterioration of organ functioning, but signals to muscles had begun to leak through the myelin sheathing around the nervous system. There was now insufficient nerve signal to activate her muscles in a controlled way.

  The cond
ition mimicked a number of diseases common in the human race, but it was not responding to anything the med team did.

  “Normally, we’d put her in stasis until we could work out a cure,” the specialist had said, “but we can’t be sure deterioration won’t continue under stasis as well, since we don’t know exactly what’s causing the problem.”

  He thought about it for a moment.

  “I would only consider stasis as a last resort,” he had said, with an air of finality.

  Celia looked at Finch. The decision was her boss’ to make. She didn’t want to look at Geelong, because he looked more doubtful. She knew they needed Jeneen for the war effort, but mostly she and Finch just wanted Jeneen to live. Only the Druanii offered any chance of that happening.

  Finch took the cube out of a recess under his desk, and placed it on his desk. He looked at Celia, but she remained stony-faced. This was his decision. He made up his mind, and twisted the top and bottom halves through 90 degrees, until they formed a cube again. Then he placed it back on the desk.

  “I’m not even sure that’s the right trigger,” he said wryly, “but that’s all it seems designed to do.”

  They stared at the innocuous little cube for a while. Nothing happened, and they looked at each other.

  “I’ve told my staff I’m not be disturbed,” said Finch, “and to hold all calls. I guess we wait as long as it takes.”

  CHAPTER 3

  ________________

  Barely had Finch finished speaking, when a grey ball flickered into existence behind Celia and Geelong. It took a long time for the murkiness within the ball to clear, and Finch was struck with the thought that electromagnetic chatter from the base might be jamming it.

  Then he realised it was probably sub-space radio, the same instantaneous transmission technology they had been given by the Druanii for the Javelin star fighters, though Cordez had pretended it had come from a think tank on Earth. Perhaps the delay was just that the call was at such short notice.

  When they could see inside the ball properly, they were looking at a largish rock in the middle of what appeared to be a desert. Finch and Geelong looked at each other.

  “Subthree?” said Finch, and Geelong shrugged, to show he wasn’t sure either.

  “Greetings friend Finch, and those known as Geelong and Celia,” said the rock. “I am, indeed, Subthree.”

  Celia started forward in her chair. The shape of the squat, round life form didn’t surprise her, but she couldn’t see how it knew her name. Finch grinned in her direction. “Don’t ask,” he said. “It pays to stick to the point with these guys.”

  Finch slowly outlined their dilemma, and Jeneen’s condition. There was a delay while Subthree presumably discussed this with the Druanii, and then they were asked a lot of questions. Finally Subthree settled itself more firmly in the sand, and brought its seaweed-like appendages down and draped them about itself.

  “Druanii say that Humans have mmmm, condition of non-interference in development of mmm species,” it said, “as do Druanii.”

  It paused for a while.

  “Invardii possible destruction of your species over-rides this rule to some extent, but mmmm natural death of individual must be allowed to take its course.”

  Finch had been expecting this. It was the approach he had thought they would take, but he also suspected, from what he had seen of them, that the Druanii were realists.

  “Jeneen is essential to the war effort,” he said, and waited for that to sink in.

  “Druanii have limited their assistance to technology Humans may reasonably have discovered for themselves,” he continued, “but Rothii artefacts contain technology Jeneen can adapt for us.” He paused, thinking how he would present his next point.

  “The Invardii will recognise Rothii technology in the ships Humans make, and understand we found this in old artefacts,” he concluded. He wanted to make it clear to the Druanii that they would not be implicated.

  Subthree was humming to itself, the soft little alarm bell note it used when it was communicating with the Druanii. Both pairs of eyes that were visible blinked with astonishing slowness, like a sleepy tortoise.

  “Orion have supported your case,” said Subthree, after a while. “But Druanii must decide.”

  A few minutes later Finch could not bear the lengthening silence.

  “I beg you to help Jeneen,” he said. “I will not risk another of my artifact team with the same Rothii technology, but we need Jeneen’s skills. This is a terrible dilemma for us.”

  Celia could not believe what she was hearing. How could Finch bargain with Jeneen’s life? Fix her up and put her back the way she was, before this all began!

  Then she looked at his face, and saw the suffering he was going through. It made her think more deeply about her reaction. What if humanity vanished from the Spiral Arm because something Jeneen might have discovered was denied to Prometheus? She shivered. Perhaps Finch was right after all. She hoped she was never put in his position, and had to make his choices.

  “Druanii say this machine never intended for intelligent species,” said Subthree at last. “Acceleration of creatures at beginning of sentience only. Special purpose. Hard to describe without mmmm, cultural reference.”

  The three people in Finch’s office waited patiently. What would the Druanii decide about Jeneen?

  “Effect on Humans likely hard to reverse,” continued Subthree. “Cellular mitosis has mmmm, occurred too many times over too short a period. Body is tearing itself apart looking for mmm material like stem cells.”

  Finch and Geelong looked blank. Celia, though, understood what was being discussed.

  “Some parts of her nervous system have aged too quickly, and her bodily processes haven’t been able to keep up,” she explained to the others. Then she wondered why the med team hadn’t picked that up. Something the machine had been doing must have masked it.

  “Druanii will consider this,” said Subthree. There was another long pause.

  “Because of speed of mmm cell collapse,” it continued, “Druanii suggest Jeneen be moved to position beyond orbit of Neptune immediately. Insist mmmm, remote-control ship. Repeat no living being.”

  Subthree paused. “Unfortunately assistance still some time away.”

  Well, it was something. Finch looked at Celia, who turned her palms up. What other choice did they have?

  “Thank you, Subthree,” said Finch, hoping his gratitude would be clear to the little translator. “We must trust in Druanii understanding, and Druanii compassion.”

  The image of Subthree started to break up, and then it slowly disappeared. Finch turned to his desk and opened a line to the ferry terminal at the edge of the sprawling base. It took him less than a minute to prepare a remote-controlled ship for the trip beyond Neptune.

  Three days later, every person on Prometheus was waiting for news of Jeneen. She and Andre had been well known, and well liked, across the many departments of the huge base. Word of her ailing condition had soon spread from the medcentre, and Andre was now the centre of attention wherever he went.

  There were little nods of greeting, and tentative pats of encouragement. Andre found it all a bit too emotional, and took to hanging out in the research labs, doing nothing much, while the others on his team gave him a bit of space.

  It was late afternoon of the third day, and Andre looked up as Celia came in. He was idly re-arranging configurations for the Rothii multiple targeting systems, thinking he might happen on something by chance.

  Celia shook her head when he looked up enquiringly. Jeneen’s ship was still somewhere beyond the orbit of Neptune, and that was all anyone knew. Finch had set up a med unit on board and loaded Jeneen into it, then sent her off alone as the Druanii had requested.

  Prometheus had lost contact with the ship shortly after it left Proteus. Something was blanking out all transmissions to or from the ship. All the team could do now was wait.

  Finch called Celia a moment later, and she
and Andre hurried to the specified comms centre. Finch was waiting when they arrived.

  “We’re on standby,” he said sharply, and then every screen in the comms centre went blank. There was a moment’s delay, and then a voice came through. It was Jeneen’s voice – Celia recognised that much – but it sounded very weak. Andre came to stand by his boss.

  “Jeneen calling Prometheus, can you read me?” repeated the soft, tired voice.

  Celia looked at the comms panel, wondering if she had to do something to answer. Andre didn’t bother trying to figure that out.

  “You damn well betcha we can, sweetheart,” he said. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Good to hear your voice, love,” came the reply. “The, um, people Finch told us about have finished with me I think.”

  She paused, as if she needed to recover her strength.

  “They’ve put me on a course back to Prometheus, and they say can you bring me in on autopilot?”

  “Of course, my love, I’m right on it,” said Andre. He turned to Celia, and raised his eyebrows – did she want to add anything?

  “Good to have you back,” said Celia, “the place has been boring with you away, and Andre has been no use at all.”

  There was a little laugh, and then Jeneen started coughing. Andre looked worried.

  “Is there anything we need to prepare for you, for when you’re back?” said Celia, but Jeneen just wanted to sleep for the rest of the ride home.

  It took her days to regain her strength, and Andre spent his time working at her bedside, and talking to her whenever she was awake. The most extraordinary feature of her recovery was the way she had aged.

  She looked ten years older, and there was a streak of white in her hair. Andre ribbed her about it, saying that now she was his age she would finally be able to understand what he was talking about. The others said that no-one would ever be able to understand what Andre talked about.