Scott Cleveland - Pale Boundaries

“Where did you learn to build that kind of bomb?” McKeon demanded.

“Books,” Dayuki responded with barely a whisper. “ Gaijin books in the old library.”

“Books!” the security officer spat, “You expect us to believe that?”

“It is the truth,” she murmured.

“You couldn’t have built it alone,” Hal said. “Who helped you?”

“A Minzoku boy,” she said. “A soldier.”

“Who is he? We want to talk to him.”

“He became a Buddha,” Dayuki said.

“A what?”

“He’s dead,” McKeon translated. “And just how did you pull that off?”

“His heart burned with lust,” she explained. “I told him to wait at a small cove up the coast where I would come to him. He drowned.”

McKeon nodded unconsciously. “Get out,” he told her. “Stand at the front of the car with your back to us.” Dayuki exited wordlessly and took position where she’d been ordered, hands clasped together and head bowed.

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Hal asked.

McKeon nodded again. “The Minzoku transport the cargo to our front by submarine. If her bomb had gone off as planned we’d have lost nothing but the load on that one sub. Nobody would wonder what happened for too long; they’ve lost subs before.” But the bomb had malfunctioned and lay undetected in an anonymous warehouse while the Family’s front collected the rest of the consignment and detonated on the way up, destroying far more than Dayuki intended.

“What do you recommend?” Hal asked.

“Kill her.”

“She could help us find out what Den Tun is up to.”

“I’ve never heard a whisper about this Tiger Opal,” McKeon sighed. “We can’t confirm any of her so-called evidence of a Minzoku conspiracy, and even if there is some kernel of truth to it her solution caused a lot of damage. She meant well, but a loose cannon with good intentions is still a loose cannon.”

Dayuki’s feat was impressive for a young woman without a lick of formal education whether it was based on fantasy or not. Her devotion to the Family was obvious and Hal’s sense of fair play shrank from the thought of killing her for it. And how much of McKeon’s recommendation was based on prudence versus embarrassment at the possibility of a Minzoku conspiracy occurring under his nose?

“I want this checked out first,” Hal decided. “She can die as well tomorrow as today.”

Dayuki maintained a sober expression when she learned of her reprieve, perhaps sensing that it was only temporary and depended entirely on the accuracy of her accusations. More surprising was McKeon’s willingness to let her return to the Minzoku base unsupervised.

“She doesn’t have a lot of options,” he explained after they dropped her off at the portal she’d used to spirit Hal away a few days before. “She betrayed Den Tun, regardless of whether this Tiger Opal is real or a figment of her imagination. The Minzoku will kill her for us if he finds out.”

Hal wasn’t so sure; she was related to Den Tun by blood, and the old man might be lenient if she confessed all and threw herself on his mercy—especially if what she said was true and a warning allowed the Minzoku to conceal evidence of their treachery. Either way, her unexplained absence from the base would certainly raise suspicions and make it that much harder to expose Den Tun. Releasing her now was an undesirable but necessary operational risk.

They returned to the Fort and went straight to Tamara Cirilo’s office where Hal repeated Dayuki’s revelations. “I’m not going to claim that the Minzoku cracking our network is flatly impossible,” his cousin said, “but the chances are very slim. The connections we use to monitor Den Tun’s network are heavily firewalled and very well hidden.”

“But if he had outside help…” Hal pressed.

“Still not that likely,” Tamara insisted. “They’d have to defeat multiple layers of security that are explicitly designed to detect and warn of such attempts. Anything man-made can be defeated, but it would take years.”

“Who says it didn’t?” McKeon asked. “She didn’t claim that the penetration was recent—only that her learning of it was.”

“Hard to prove,” Tamara nodded, “but easy to fix. We’ll just break all external connections while we run a comprehensive system probe.”

“Not yet,” Hal said. “I don’t want anything to alert Den Tun before we know what he’s up to—if anything. What does your database have on Tiger Opal?”

Tamara ran a search of the Fort’s comprehensive cross-referencing database, but shook her head. “No direct correlations. The closest indirect hit is a loose translation of a Minzoku word, ‘milenopar,’ which translates literally as ‘stripe-having jewel.’ The index lists the last recorded use in a report relating to deliveries of raw materials about fifty years ago. Pretty archaic.”

“A dead end,” McKeon snorted.

“Archaic,” Hal murmured to himself. It was not a word, then, that most adult Minzoku would be likely to use, much less so someone of Dayuki’s generation. Den Tun, however, might have been familiar with it in his youth. “What were the materials for?”

Tamara ran another search of Family historical records. “An obsolete optical semiconductor—indium gallium arsenide. It’s since been replaced by—”

“Indium gallium antimonide,” Hal finished for her. Den Tun must have discovered the use to which the Onjin put the raw materials his people supplied. The growing circumstantial evidence suggested that the old man was trying to produce the substance and may have succeeded. Though no scientist himself, Hal knew that the production process did not lend itself to establishment in the facilities the Minzoku controlled. At least not the ones that the Onjin knew about.

The Onjin consumed massive quantities of electricity in the course of their activities, power they did not share with the Minzoku . Den Tun and his people possessed a single oil-fired electrical generating plant constructed to power their base when the Onjin originally occupied it. That would be the simplest place to construct a laboratory, but the Onjin had detailed blueprints of the base as well as full access anytime they wished. They rarely exercised that prerogative, but the possibility made it too dangerous for the Minzoku to house an unsanctioned facility there.

That left only one Minzoku possession with an established power grid and a ready explanation for the level of consumption a single production facility required. “Do a detailed, multi-spectral satellite survey of the area around Tessoua,” Hal ordered.

“F inal boarding call for Flight 6721 to Nivia Station. Any remaining passengers for Flight 6721 please report to the gate immediately.”

“That’s you,” Virene sniffed miserably. “You’d better go.” Her arms remained around Terson’s neck despite her words. He looked to the gate where Zarn spread his hands, entreating him to finish up. Terson waved him on and pried himself from his wife’s grasp.

“Virene, I really have to go!”

“I just told you that!”

“Will you be okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said primly, wiping at her eyes. “You’re the one still standing here.”

“Sorry; I’ll call as soon as I can.” Terson kissed her and dashed for the gate, shrugging at the attendant’s deprecating frown. He caught up with Zarn at the shuttle hatch and ducked through. The flight attendant inside checked his ticket and indicated the rear of the vehicle, redundant information given that it was a full flight and Terson was the last aboard. He dropped into the acceleration couch next to Zarn and buckled in.