Readyworld

fiction by michael werneburg

The Major, meanwhile, had wrapped up his tactical summary, and seemed to be waiting for feedback. I kept my ears open as I worked. Sure enough, the scientists were full of questions; everyone started talking at once.

"Major," said the first voice to win out of the babble, "while this find may indeed prove quite fascinating, I'd rather we stick to the recent discovery of predators on this planet. I assure you, there had been nothing higher up the food chain than meter-long fish analogs on this world. I mean, there's nothing on land more predatory than the so-called feeps."

There was another babble of voices, most of which seemed to agree with the first speaker. Then someone said, "The feeps eat the fern analogs, that's hardly predatory. What's disturbing, I think, is that the military presence here is actively keeping the scientific community from conducting sufficient field research-"

But he got cut off, this time by a stern feminine voice. "In doing so," a woman said in a smooth assured tone that sent a tingle up my spine, "this installation is looking out for your concerns. Something has begun to prey on the feeps by night. We've seen no evidence in spoor or tracks or caught anything on our sensors, but even Readyworld is a big planet to comb for life-forms. It's possible that we just have more to learn about this world than we thought."

"And after all," she added with a new tone of irony, "isn't that what you people live for?"

Ooo, I like her, I thought.

There was a moment of silence in response to that bit of logic. Coincident with that, my sweep was complete. There was nothing exciting about this chunk of glass: and I was sure, without reviewing the results from the scanner that it was glass. It had a clear internal structure that was in keeping with its appearance.

Nature could sometimes make things like this, in severe volcanic eruptions, for instance. But this was no artifact of nature. The internal structure I'd discovered looked for all the world like a bit of rock that had been transformed by a high-energy blast from a concentrated source such as industrial equipment or a weapon. I pulled off my goggles, and stood.

"What are we expecting to find from this sample of material?" asked another scientist, before I could interrupt with my news. An exobiologist named Alain Hu that I knew well enough. I suddenly remembered what I'd just been thinking about maybe bringing in a partner. Here was a guy in the right field who'd at least treated me with respect.

A third party from the military command stepped forward to field that one. He had the appearance of being older than the Major but was of some lesser rank and might well have been younger than me. His name-tag said 'Mead'. "We already have an analysis that I think you'll find very interesting," he said. "We've asked your colleague here to provide a second opinion, and I think you'll understand why in a minute."

He'd glanced my way during that last statement, and I held his eye with a gentle nod of my head. There were more questions about the nascent food chain that seemed to be springing up all over the world, and I went back to my work. I triggered the data feed from the sensor unit on my OHUD. The data block dropped into place, and a familiar table of contents appeared before me. I headed for the summary, and saw what I needed. I bundled the summary—along with a few of the key supporting tables, and dropped in the results of my broad-spectrum visual analysis. Then I fed in a few sentences to summarize, and tried to submit the report to the people who paid my bonuses.

But the communiqué was blocked.

"Doctor," said a uniformed man to my left wearing a full data link headset, "do not attempt to disseminate your findings."

I blinked in his direction. He had the look of someone concentrating on optical data, and was staring right through me. The Major turned and regarded me.

"Well, what are you playing at, Neilson? What are your findings?"