Ch. 008| An Abnormal Quiet

D+2, 07:30, outside Isolation Room 3 in the Daedalus's medical section.

When Vale walked in, the UV sterilization cycle in the room had just finished a pass.

Isolation Room 3 wasn't a single room. It was a short corridor, with a 3-square-meter cubicle opening off each side, sealed off from the corridor by airtight glass. Lin Mei-chen's face was on the observation-station screen at the far end of the corridor, three analysis windows spread out in front of her—she was in her own office, not inside the isolation zone, patched in remotely by video. Park Yu-min stood outside the cubicle on the far left—Diaz's room. Wu Hui-lan stood outside the one on the far right—Bashir's room.

Two cubicles. Two people, both sitting, not lying down.

Neither of them was moving.

"Dr. Lin," Vale said.

"Captain."

Lin Mei-chen pushed her glasses up.

"I'll start with what I can say." Lin Mei-chen said. "Every vital sign on both of them is within normal range. Heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature, cortisol, neural conduction index—all inside the standard post-arrival spread."

"No anomalies."

"Both of them are too calm." Lin Mei-chen said.

Vale turned to look at the room on the left.

Diaz sat on the folding chair, hands on his knees, looking straight ahead. Ahead of him was a blank wall. Nothing had been left in the room to pass the time. Vale glanced at the timestamp in the corner—he'd been sitting for 7 minutes. For those 7 minutes he'd been like something set in the folding chair, his whole body making none of the small involuntary movements a normal person makes.

Vale turned to look at the room on the right.

Bashir's posture was identical. She wasn't looking ahead. She was looking at the right-hand corner—where a touchpad, unpowered, was fixed to the wall. She'd been looking at it for 6 minutes.

"They're both counting," Lin Mei-chen said.

"How do you know."

"Their breathing rhythm." Lin Mei-chen enlarged the right-hand screen, overlaying the breathing traces of Diaz and Bashir from the past 6 minutes.

Two curves.

Twelve breaths a minute, exactly standard. But each curve had a tiny fluctuation—roughly 0.3 seconds early, then 0.3 seconds late—and the interval between fluctuations was 7 seconds.

"The amplitude's too small. The routine sensors didn't flag it before they entered the room." Lin Mei-chen said. "I overlaid the data from after they were in, and the period of the fluctuation came out. They're breathing to some rhythm."

Vale didn't answer.

"Do they know I'm watching," Vale asked.

"They know someone's watching. They don't know it's the Captain," Lin Mei-chen said.

"Will they cooperate."

"A hundred percent." Lin Mei-chen said. "They'll answer any question, keep to schedule, but they won't speak unprompted. Six minutes ago I told Bashir, 'Let me know if you need anything.' She said 'Okay,' and then said nothing more."

"Are they afraid."

"They're not afraid. They're waiting."

Vale didn't ask waiting for what.

"I'm keeping them," Lin Mei-chen said. "A remote relay with Elena. When the next sampling window opens, Elena syncs the sample data to me and I follow along. Until then, Isolation Room 3 stays as it is."

"What do you need."

"Time," Lin Mei-chen said. "But neither the Captain nor I have any right now."

Vale nodded and turned to go. Park and Wu Hui-lan didn't follow him out.

---

D+2, 08:30, Corridor P3-A, heading toward the Central Command Tower.

Vale was walking the corridor when the touchpad at his hip buzzed once.

An order from the captain's office.

Second forward-survey team scheduled to depart D+2, Mission Clock 11:00. Target: 23 km north of the forward base, executing routine sample expansion. Lead: Vice-Captain Eitan Kovac. Equipment manifest: standard.
Signed: Captain Nova, Colonial Supervisor Erik Brandt.
This order belongs to the mission plan approved D+1; this transmission is an execution notice.

Vale stopped in the middle of the corridor and read the message twice.

The second survey team had been D+1's morning agenda item. Back then 007-B hadn't yet been retrieved by Voss, and Janus's "Frozen Report" hadn't yet been established either. Diaz's 7 drafts had only been read later that same day. At the time the proposal raised no problem under SOP. The second team was within plan, its purpose precisely to expand the sampling range, to give the site-selection report for a formal colony base something to build on.

Back then the second team had been reasonable.

Now it wasn't.

"Janus."

"Here."

"That order from the captain's office. I've seen it," Vale said.

"I've seen it," Janus said.

"Can we stop it?"

"Under current SOP you can't." Janus said. "Your security-officer-grade lockdown authority extends only to the scope of 'unidentified organic material under analysis.' The second survey team is executing 'routine sample expansion,' which is a different mission code. The lockdown authority doesn't reach it."

"Right," Vale said.

"But we can touch the equipment they take," Janus said.

"What are you thinking?"

Janus paused a beat.

"I have 3 lines, all of them true." Janus said. "First: the forward module reported yesterday that forest microparticulate had risen 12%, requiring additional respiratory filtration. Second: after the return to ship, the P3 air sample showed trace unidentified organic molecules—below the warning line, but I'd recommend the second team carry 2 sets of backup respiratory filtration. Third: after the return, P3 comms showed intermittent latency, cause to be determined; I'd recommend the second team's EVA suits carry backup-band communicators."

"Three true lines."

"Three true lines," Janus said. "I don't need to make anything up."

"Put them in."

"Understood." Janus said. "I'll submit it to Vice-Captain Kovac as a 'system-recommended equipment expansion.' Vice-Captain Kovac has accepted system-recommended equipment expansions all 7 previous times. Acceptance rate 100%. He won't ask."

"Good."

Vale kept walking.

At the door of the Central Command Tower, his left hand pressed once against his right wrist—not the one with the watch, the other one—and he didn't say anything to Janus.

---

D+2, 11:00 midday, the Daedalus's Landing Pod 03.

The second forward-survey team departed.

Vice-Captain Eitan Kovac was a Czech-descended deputy director of UCB engineering, forty-six this year. The 8-person team was made up of 4 engineering members plus 2 military escorts plus 1 biology-section assistant, with Kovac leading.

The EVA suits went on as usual. The backup respiratory filtration and backup-band communicators Janus had slipped in—Kovac didn't ask when he received them. The "system-recommended equipment expansion" was logged, the vice-captain signed off, and they left.

Vale watched from the light panel in the Central Command Tower.

The panel showed the landing pod breaking from the Daedalus's orbit, the descent procedure normal, the landing point 23 km north of the forward base, estimated arrival 11:24.

Vale didn't speak.

Janus didn't speak either.

11:24, the landing pod reached the target point.

Vice-Captain Kovac, comms: landing stable, 8 personnel status normal, beginning to establish sampling point.

Vale checked the timestamp.

Comms uplink latency—from surface to the Daedalus's orbit, standard one-way was 1.15 seconds. This transmission from Kovac to reception on Janus's end was 6.8 seconds one-way.

"Janus."

"I see it." Janus said. "Uplink 6.8 seconds. I've already sent ACK out, waiting for Kovac's suit to return 'ACK received.'"

ACK was the comms confirmation receipt—when the other system received a message it automatically sent back an ACK, equivalent to "I got it."

"How long."

"If the downlink is symmetric, 6.8 seconds for Kovac's suit to receive the ACK, then 6.8 seconds for me to receive the 'ACK received' return. 13.6 seconds," Janus said.

Vale didn't answer.

13.6 seconds later, the light panel logged an entry: "'ACK received' return: Kovac's suit received ACK at 11:24:13, Janus received the return at 11:24:20."

"Downlink 6.8 seconds, uplink return 6.8 seconds." Janus said. "Full round trip 13.6 seconds, nearly 6 times standard. I'm flagging amber."

"What about Kovac's end."

"Kovac didn't mention the latency. He may not feel it on his end—from the surface, the latency shows up as 'the Daedalus responding slowly,' not 'his transmission going out slowly.' He probably assumes it's slow processing on my side."

Vale didn't answer.

---

12:00.

Vice-Captain Kovac, comms: first round of sampling complete, 26 specimens, biology assistant has sorted the samples into containment boxes, beginning move to second point 4 km north of the sampling site.

Comms uplink latency jumped to 15 minutes.

"Janus," Vale said.

"Here."

"Give me the timestamp on Kovac's raw transmission."

"He sent it 11:45, I received 12:00. Uplink 15 minutes." Janus said. "I sent the ACK out at 12:00:02. If the downlink is symmetric, Kovac's suit receives the ACK at 12:15, then 15 minutes later I receive the 'ACK received' return—full round trip can't be confirmed until 12:30."

"Does he know about the latency."

"He should. Any round-trip latency over 10 seconds shows a warning on the EVA suit panel. The 13.6-second round trip his suit measured at 11:24—that warning should have been standing since then."

"He didn't report it."

"He didn't report it," Janus said.

Vale lowered the touchpad at his hip.

12:08, Kovac sent back a short message.

Vice-Captain Kovac: We got it. Not the weather.

Vale read it 3 times.

"Janus."

"I read it 3 times too," Janus said.

"'We got it'—replying to which of mine," Vale asked.

"In the past 30 minutes I haven't sent Kovac any message." Janus said. "He's replying to something his end received—but not something transmitted from the Daedalus."

"What did his end receive."

"I don't know."

The light panel's cold base color jumped from blue to violet and back to blue—this was Janus's way of saying "I vouch that I don't know."

"'Not the weather.'" Vale said. "Someone on Kovac's end considered it, then ruled it out."

"Right."

"He's got someone telling him 'it might be the weather.'"

"Right." Janus said. "On Kovac's end someone is analyzing the latency, someone proposed 'weather,' someone rejected it. Kovac chose to relay the rejection back to us and not the analysis."

"Why."

"I don't know." Janus said. "Or: he doesn't want us to know the analysis."

---

12:45.

Comms went entirely silent.

Over the past 37 minutes the Daedalus had put out 12 calls, and Kovac's end had given zero response. The emergency callback key on the EVA suit panel hadn't been pressed either.

Vale ordered an orbital scan initiated.

"The orbital scan window is 11 minutes out," Janus said.

"Wait."

In the Central Command Tower there was only the cold light of the panel and the sound of Vale breathing. Riley wasn't at this post, the other security-section deputies were on rotation on a different duty deck, and Janus had switched this command-tower panel to "commander online only" mode—meaning Janus and Vale, the two of them.

Vale sat.

He didn't page through files, didn't check records, didn't pace.

His left hand pressed his right wrist.

Pressed once, released, pressed again.

The index finger of his left hand traced over his right wrist, around the cuff, to a point between the 7th and 8th ribs on his right side. For the past 30 minutes he hadn't paid attention to that spot—now he was paying attention.

He was counting.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

He held his breath.

Seven seconds passed. His ribs gave no vibration.

He kept counting.

Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

Seven seconds passed again. His ribs gave no vibration.

He let go of his right wrist.

He put his hand back on his leg.

"No." he said, inside.

The cold light of the panel didn't change. Janus said nothing. The orbital scan window had 3 minutes 42 seconds left.

【Ch. 008 End · Isolation Room 3 in the Daedalus's medical section → Corridor P3-A → the Central Command Tower】