Ammonite

Part of the cultural food chain. Damn that woman. She paced harder. Her bootheels made no sound on the restful, absorbent tile, which irritated her further. They already had a base. Did Marghe think Port Central wasn’t good enough? Obviously. Part of the cultural food chain… Didn’t that damned woman realize Company personnel were not supposed to get involved at all with the indigenous population?

Of course she knew. It was her job to know.

Danner dropped into the chair Dogias had been sitting on just two hours ago. What was Marghe saying to her? She played back the last sentence. “We have a base here of sorts, if we need it.”

Why would they need it? If the vaccine did not work. But the vaccine would work.

But do you want it to?

She shoved Dogias’s question aside, began to pace again. The vaccine had to work. It was their only chance.

She stopped, stood very still.

Their only chance? What did she mean by that? The vaccine might be the last chance for Company to profitably exploit Jeep, of course, but it was not herlast chance, or that of her staff. If the vaccine did not work, Company would lift them off. Marghe, and Sara Hiam on the Estrade, were civilians… bound to lose faith now and again. But Company would not abandon them.

Thinking of Sara Hiam reminded her that she should let Estradeknow that the relay at Holme Valley was up and running. No doubt the doctor would have more to say about Company, and the Kurst, which she referred to openly as “that engine of death,” but it would be good to talk to someone who did not have to call her ma’am.

What time would it be now up on the Estrade? Late. But not too late.

After a moment, a woman Danner recognized as Nyo filled her screen. She smiled at her. “Hello, Nyo.”

Nyo did not smile back. “Good evening, Commander.”

Maybe the woman was just having a bad day. “I’d like to speak to Dr. Hiam.”

The screen blanked, then flared again. Sara Hiam’s face was set and unwelcoming. “Yes?”

Danner wondered what was wrong. “It’s me,” she said.

“I can see that.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“You tell me.” Her voice was flat, hostile.

There was no excuse for this kind of rudeness. Muscles along Danner’s jaw bunched. “I didn’t call to spar with you, Doctor. If there is some problem up there, I’m unaware of it. Perhaps you could apprise me of the situation.”

“No.” Sara Hiam’s face was taut with anger. “You should tell uswhat the hell the situation is, Commander; you should explain to uswhat all this crap with codes is about.”

“Codes? I don’t understand.”

“You should.”

“Obviously. But the fact remains that I don’t.” She was’too tired, too confused to stay angry. She rubbed her face. “Look, Sara, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m sorry you’re angry, but unless you tell me what you think I’ve done wrong, we can’t clear up this misunderstanding.” She hesitated. “I thought we had each other’s trust.”

“That’s what I thought, that’s why I’m so angry. So you explain why you’re sending tight, coded messages up to the Kurstand not telling me or anybody else what the hell is going on.”

“Coded messages? From Port Central?” It did not make sense. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Danner frowned. “I didn’t send any messages.”

“Somebody did.”

“What did they say?”

“They were coded, remember?”

“Did you record them?”

Sara Hiam shook her head. “It was pure chance Sigrid caught them, and we weren’t set up to record.”

“I don’t understand.” What was going on? “Messages, you said. There was more than one?”

Sara tilted her head. “You really don’t know anything about it, do you?” Danner shook her head. Hiam was suddenly businesslike. “Sigrid said they were multibursts. Or something. Apparently it’s something the military does: send several communiques in one compressed burst.”

Military. “And they went to the Kurst?”

“That’s right. From Port Central.”

“When?”

“Eight days ago.”

Eight days, eight days. Nothing unusual had happened then. Someone was sending messages in code, military code, from Port Central to the Kurst, and she knew nothing about it. Her head began to thump. “I assume that this is the first time you’ve intercepted this kind of communication.”

“Yes.”

“Why now?” Danner muttered half to herself.

“It might have been going on for some time,” Hiam offered. “Sigrid was trying some new frequencies for the satellite, ones we haven’t used before. For all we know, the spy could have been sending information up for months. Or years.”

“Spy?” The thumping in Danner’s head became a hot ache.

“Why else would someone send transmissions without your knowledge?”

There was no other reason. None at all. Danner felt as though someone was pushing a hand inside her stomach and squeezing.

“Who would want to spy on Port Central—on me?”

“Company,” Hiam said gently.

“Company?” Banner was bewildered. “But I’m Company.”

“Perhaps they don’t think you’re Company enough.”

She tried to think, and her confusion slowly heated to anger.