2953-04-02 – Tales from the Service: The Fiddlehead Anomaly
The trio exchanged uneasy looks for a long moment. None of them seemed eager to answer, even in the face of a capital charge at court-martial.
When the silence again began to lengthen, and they realized they would be handed no lifelines, Visscher shook her head and opened her mouth. “How could we have left the station? It doesn’t make any sense. You have airlock and suit access records.”
“An interesting point, but one unrelated to the matter at hand.” Commander Gunther Lund spread his hands in mock helplessness. “In any event I have techs examining those records now for evidence of your tampering.”
“We didn’t touch your files. Or your spacesuits.” McCormick scowled. “We never left your station. At least...” He glanced to Visscher. “Not intentionally.”
“Owen!” Visscher hissed.
“What? You think we can possibly make this any worse?”
“The only higher offense in the code than what you are facing is treason.” Gunther smiled cheerfully as he delivered this bit of trivia which they probably already knew. Navy ratings were forced to learn the Discipline Code as part of their training regimen. “And those inquiries are always a messy business, because Intelligence wants to get involved.”
Despite this being no new information, the flustered trio were taken aback by the observation, just as Gunther had anticipated. In point of fact Naval Intelligence was already involved, though it was remotely for the moment. They usually didn't maintain any personnel aboard a small outpost like Fiddlehead Station.
“Look, Commander...” Bodinsen peered over at Gunther’s uniform nameplate. “Commander Lund. We didn’t desert. It was an accident.”
“That will be most difficult to prove, given that this ‘accident’ took place while you were concealing yourself from the security system... for two days.” Gunther pretended to make a note on his data-slate. “But that’s a matter for your advocate. I’m just trying to write my report for the court, in my capacity as the station commander.”
In truth, if the trio were thinking rationally, they’d probably realize that on such a small station, any court martial couldn’t convene until another vessel docked for resupply. Three outsiders thrust unexpectedly into a position of judgement would of course lean heavily on the report and treat any testimony that it did not back up as suspect. Gunther, of course, had made something of a hobby of keeping miscreants off balance and far removed from their full rational faculties.
“We didn’t desert.” Visscher shook her head.
“Other than deserting, what else were you not doing around four-fifteen, second shift, on Seventeen March?” Gunther arched one eyebrow. “Perhaps we can reach satisfactory answers by process of elimination.”
“We weren’t being careful.” Bodinsen sighed. “I knew that thing was trouble the moment you showed it to me, McCormick.”
“Thing?” Gunther sat back and steepled his fingers. He knew the dam had cracked.
“It could have been anything. Or nothing. We had to know.” McCormick shot back. “And I wasn’t going to hide it under my bunk for the rest of our tour until we knew it was safe.”
“Then why didn’t you let me hide it?” Bodinsen smacked a palm to his forehead.
“Because you would have spaced it the moment we weren’t looking.” Visscher sighed. “And maybe we should have let you.”
“Damned right you should have.” Bodinsen sat back in his chair. “It wasn’t right for that Marine to bring it aboard, and it was even less right for you to let him pass it off to you when he got off the ship. It could have been waiting to kill the whole crew, for all you knew.”
“But we didn’t know!” McCormick’s protest was growing more feeble. “It could have been the next big discovery! We could have all been rich!”
Gunther was no stranger to mad get-rich-quick schemes among the ratings – even in wartime, some fraction of the Reach’s spacers were always plotting insane things in their spare time – but this time, something strange was afoot. “Am I correct, then, in guessing that this item you are blaming for your disappearance is an alien artifact of some kind?”
As if they’d forgotten he was present, all three suddenly turned to look at Gunther with alarm.
“We think so.” Bodinsen’s answer, reluctant as it was, drew glares from the other two. “No way to be sure now.”
The claim of the Fiddlehead Three is sensational to say the least – that they were sidelined from time itself for nearly two days by the influence of an alien artifact whose provenance they cannot establish and whose very presence they cannot conclusively prove – but the fact that they simply vanished in a matter of moments from all station security systems for two days, and reappeared just as suddenly – gives credence to their story.
We have covered some strange properties of Xenarch artifacts in this space before, but not recently. Certainly I would not put this claim past the capabilities of a device of this provenance, and I would think three deserters would have a more reasonable story prepared – and some sort of plan to make good their escape – if they actually did intend to desert.
