I smiled back at him, then picked up the ray gun. “Oh, hey Sheldon, I’ve been meaning to ask—what does this do, exactly? Other than clearing weeds, I mean.”

  “Depending on power level, it can kill, stun, or cause the world’s worst full-body charley horse. Hah. Charley horse. Some English phrases make no sense at all. Yet that makes them all the more droll.”

  I looked at the controls on the device. “I guess red is kill, which is why the interlock?”

  “Yes. And purple for stun, blue for charley horse. The Gen word for the weapon translates broadly as disruptor. I thought your Trek-addled minds would appreciate that.”

  Nat laughed, then turned her attention to Patrick and me. “I did some filtering of the data on my own. There’s still way too much stuff. Societies and clubs in particular seem to spawn like rabbits.”

  “We should take the Halo up and do a flyover of the whole county, centered on Dunnville,” I said. “It might give us some extra clues, or trigger something.”

  “Great idea,” Patrick replied, springing to his feet. “This other stuff feels too much like homework. And half the fun of graduating was never having to worry about homework again.”

  “Open an airlock please, Sheldon.” I gathered the gadgets into my backpack, except for the communicator, which I put in my pocket. We headed for the lowering staircase, which had appeared in midair. I stopped abruptly halfway there, and muttered, “Wagon doors.” Patrick swerved without stopping and joined me as I made for the front of the barn. The two of us muscled the doors open with only moderate cursing.

  “We could really use a garage-door opener,” Patrick commented.

  “Yeah,” I said, “that wouldn’t be suspicious at all.”

  “Fine. But let’s oil the tracks properly before we do this again, okay?”

  “You mean like now? Because we still have to close them after Sheldon is out, then re-open them when we get back.”

  Patrick looked back into the barn. “Shit. That also means we have to enter and exit the ship in plain sight.”

  I paused. “Yeah, that ain’t good. We may need to bite the bullet on the opener.”

  We were still at it when Nat’s voice came from the communicator. “You two sound like my grandparents arguing. Why don’t you just get married?”

  We grinned at each other before I replied, “Have Sheldon float around behind the barn, Nat. At least we can be shielded from the house. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “Already there,” Nat replied.

  We walked around behind the barn, and an airlock door lowered to greet us. In moments, we were on the bridge.

  “We should record this.” Patrick took out his phone. “Sheldon, can we get a view downward?”

  A section of the wall view changed to a different image, looking straight down at some scrubby grass. Patrick nodded in approval. “Now, can you do a search pattern of some kind, centered on Dunnville, covering everything?”

  “Yes. We have an advanced geometric form called a ‘spiral.’ Shall I draw you a picture?”

  Patrick rolled his eyes. “He’s really mouthy.”

  Nat elbowed Patrick in the ribs. “Honestly, you deserved that one.”

  Snorting, Patrick started his phone recording. “Okay, Sheldon, proceed when ready.”

  “You know, if you were to ask,” Sheldon replied, “I’d probably mention that I could do the recording and then send it to you. Much better quality, too. But by all means, do it your way.”

  Patrick slumped and looked down at his feet. “Malicious genie.”

  “Please do that, Sheldon,” I said, grinning. “Let’s get this operation started.”

  The aerial survey took a solid hour. It wasn’t the ship’s speed or maneuverability that was at issue. Rather, we needed the video recording to have enough detail to be useful, which meant we couldn’t zip past so quickly that it recorded a blur.

  I also had Sheldon do a more abbreviated survey from higher up and take several high-res stills from just below cloud level.

  “MOBIUS,” Patrick said at one point.

  I turned to him. “What?”

  “For a team name. Or whatever.”

  “And it stands for something?” Nat asked.

  “Monitoring Outer-Space Biological Incursions from Unknown Systems. Or something. I’m still working on it.”

  Nat made a face. “That’s pretty lame.”

  “But a cool name,” Patrick replied. “Maybe we can keep working on what it stands for.”

  We continued trying variations on the aerial survey, but eventually ran out of ideas.

  “Let’s pack it in,” I said. “Sheldon, take us back to the barn.”

  The re-hangaring of the Halo was as big a pain as the de-hangaring, just in reverse. Patrick and I finished by getting out the ladder and the WD-40 and doing a thorough coat on the rails.

  Finally, with everything put away and the Halo once again invisibly parked in the barn, we settled back into our chairs.

  Nat, who hadn’t been involved with the doors, was working on her laptop. “Sheldon airdropped the vids and pics to me. I’ll share them out to you guys once I have them organized. Then how about if the two of you go through them while I work on the data analysis?”

  Patrick grinned widely. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind. You do the homework while we watch videos.”

  “Asshole.”

  After a couple of hours of silent concentration, I sat back with a groan. “I got squat. Patrick?”

  “Nada. Lots of home construction, some occasional commercial or infrastructure construction, but nothing worth a raised eyebrow. No missile silos, military installations, castles, open-pit mines, no nothin’.”

  Natalie looked up. “What kind of infrastructure?”

  “Roads, the levee on Archer Lake at the outflow point, some drainage canals they put in after the big floods five years ago.”

  “And commercial construction?”

  “Valley Mall at the other end of town, and the Tate Industrial Park. Probably the only things that have been built in the county since the Civil War.”

  “That may be a slight exaggeration,” Nat said, “but I get your point. And not surprising, really. Neither place is doing fantastically. Hard to see why they’d build more.”

  “The mall is doing better since they brought in Walmart,” I said.

  Patrick nodded. “It needed a big-time lease like that.”

  “And the industrial park?” I inclined my head in the general direction of McArthur’s Knob, the closest thing to a terrain feature in this part of the world. Nat’s employer, and in fact the entire complex, sat just on the other side of the hill from our property.

  “I don’t exactly wander around a lot at lunch, but it mostly seems to be hole-in-the-wall operations—mail-order businesses, specialty fabrication, a dojo or two, stuff like that. Like with the mall, they needed one big lease like the Harris Institute to get ahead of breakeven.”

  “And what about your employer?”

  “What? They’re a marketing firm, Patrick. They figure out how to sell more soap to people who already have soap.”

  “Must be fulfilling.”

  Nat didn’t reply, instead making heavy breathing sounds while holding her hand out in a pincer shape. Patrick obligingly pretended to choke.

  I watched this performance for a few moments, then asked, “Anything on the filtering, Nat?”

  She dropped her pincer hand and shook her head. “Not really. I’ve eliminated all mundane companies, associations, partnerships, clubs, and religious institutions. It doesn’t leave much, and honestly even the half-dozen items I have left aren’t the kinds of things ringing alarm bells.”

  “Well, what are we looking for?” said Patrick.

  “Well, look, if the Loranna wanted to create climate issues, they’d own a big ol’ gas company with international reach and no scruples. Those we have in spades, but not in Taft County, Ohio. If they wanted to create social and economic strife, they could go with social media or partisan news outlets feeding people targeted information designed to create or accelerate a tribal mentality. Those we’ve got, too—”

  “Just not in Taft County, Ohio,” I finished for her. “Right. I can see examples for all the other possibilities Sheldon mentioned, but none of them has a presence here. So we’re back to square one.”

  Nat raised her voice slightly. “Sheldon? You have a comment, or anything to add?”

  “No, Natalie. Sorry. I know in your movies I’d be able to sift through terabytes of data over a one-megabit connection and come up with a hidden pattern just after the next commercial break, but in practice I’m optimized for operating a spacecraft, not performing miracles.”

  I slapped my laptop closed with a snarl. “Well, I’m done for the night. Let’s try to take a fresh look at things tomorrow, guys.”

  Chapter Eleven: Barn Doors

  Day 7. Thursday

  “Hey Jack,” Patrick said as he and Nat entered the barn.

  “Hi guys. Anyone have any flashes of brilliance since yesterday? Anything you want to share?”

  “Nope,” Patrick said.

  “Nada,” Nat added.

  I sighed. “Me neither. Maybe we need to take a break or get a different angle on this.”

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  I swung around to look at the communicator, which I’d left on the table. “Sure, Sheldon. What do you have?”

  “I have a set of automatic barn door retractors, freshly printed, modeled after something I found on Amazon.”

  “Hhhhh … what?”

  “Was that unclear? I can direct you to the fabrication area in the ship, where you will find rails, electronics, a motor-and-pulley system, and a remote. Indistinguishable from the original item. I’ve even included instructions from the PDF on the manufacturer’s website.”

  “Wait, how are you able to get on the internet?”

  “Your Wi-Fi, of course. Woefully inadequate security, I might add.”

  “You cracked the password?”

  “No, I listened while you gave it to your friends. By the Maker, you humans are slow.”

  Patrick grinned. “I have to admit, a remote-operated set of doors would be handy. Could we rig up a remote for Sheldon too?”

  “Oh, please. I built this unit. I simply trained the receiver to accept a signal from me as well.”

  “Ah. Of course.” Patrick cocked his head at me. “Think we can get it done this evening?”

  “Piece of cake.”

  It wasn’t quite a piece of cake, as the wagon doors, which were old and starting to rot, didn’t submit gracefully to a new top rail. Some emergency bracing was necessary to prevent them from simply disintegrating. The sky was darkening by the time we collected our tools and put away the ladders. But finally we had the new automated rolling gate mounted, powered up, and ready to go.

  Patrick stood, arms crossed, a smug grin on his face as I pressed the button for the third time and watched the doors majestically slide open.

  At that moment, my father walked up. “Nice work, Jack. Been meaning to do something like that for years, but it never seemed urgent. To what do we owe this?”

  “Uh, we may at some point be moving some large equipment around. Patrick and I had already decided that there isn’t enough WD-40 in the world to keep the old hardware moving.”

  “Hmm. And the money? Those things run four grand and up for doors that size.”

  “All paid for, Dad. No strings.”

  He gave me a hard look. “You aren’t doing something illegal are you, Jack? A life-changing event like you went through—”

  “No, Dad, nothing illegal. No drug running or smuggling or running booze. It’s … ” I knew I had to give my father something. “Look, we’re working on a really revolutionary propulsion system. But patents and crap take years, and you can’t do an IPO without having your intellectual property properly protected. The other people behind this company are working on that, but meanwhile they want to do some early testing, to figure out some unknowns. We’re getting equity instead of pay, which is why we’re all still doing our day jobs. But we’ll be major shareholders if this pans out.”

  Dad peered speculatively at me; at the doors, which had just come to a stop; at Patrick and Natalie, both of whom gazed back at him with guileless expressions. Then he nodded, having apparently come to some kind of conclusion. “All right. Weirder things have happened. Apple started in someone’s garage. As long as you don’t get involved in anything illegal. Or burn down the barn.” With that he turned and walked back to the house.

  Patrick let out a breath. “Wow, dude, that was the most fine-tuned line of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I salute you, sir.”

  “And there go our souls,” Nat added. “Meanwhile, I think we’re done for the evening again. Maybe tomorrow night we can get back to working on the search.”

  I shook my head. “Hmm, don’t think so. Tomorrow’s Friday.”

  Nat thought for a moment, then nodded. “Ah.”

  “Yeah. Saturn,” I said.

  “Overnighter?” Patrick asked.

  “Can’t avoid it.”

  Nat and Patrick grabbed their things and gave me a wave as they headed for the car.

  Chapter Twelve: Saturn Fly-By

  Day 8. Friday evening

  “Fourteen hours round trip,” Nat said. “Laptop batteries won’t last that long.”

  “Nor will the tablets,” Patrick added. “Should I bring a deck of cards?”

  “I don’t know why this never occurred to me,” I said. “Hey Sheldon, can you supply standard wall-plug output?”

  “The power requirements are trivial. However, I’ll have to print a compatible plug for your devices. Won’t take more than an hour. Bring a power bar, okay?”

  I bobbed my head. “We can run on batteries for that long. Thanks, Sheldon.”

  “You are welcome. No Wi-Fi in space, though. Make sure you’ve downloaded anything you might need.”

  We gathered our possessions and trooped up the waiting airlock. Once inside the bridge, we looked around.

  “Not really a lot of unused surface area in here,” I commented.

  “Perhaps the conference room would suffice for your needs,” Sheldon replied.

  “You have one of those?” Nat exclaimed. “Cool. Where is it?”

  A door opened near the bridge entrance, beside the door to the bathroom.

  I walked up and looked through the doorway into a large room with what was probably a conference table in the center. “What else is on this deck?”

  “Clockwise from the bridge are conference room, medical, captain’s quarters, and ready room.”

  “Unbelievable,” Patrick exclaimed. “This was here all the time, and we just didn’t think to ask. What else have we missed? We need to explore the ship, and I mean we need to make it a priority. We’ll have lots of free time on the way out.”

  “In your dreams,” Nat replied. “We have work. Loranna, remember?”

  I turned from examining the conference room to glare at my bickering friends. I gave them both an eye roll that neither one noticed, because they were too busy glaring at each other.

  “Maybe we’ll have time for a bit of both,” I said. “Let’s get going first, though. Sheldon, please close the airlock and get us in the air.”

  “Wait!” Patrick exclaimed. “He means open the wagon doors, float out, then close the wagon doors—”

  “I am not an idiot, Patrick. Unlike some of Jack’s friends, not mentioning any names. Please get set up in the conference room. I will handle the driving. Try not to trip over your own drool.”

  Nat punched Patrick in the arm. “You really know how to make friends, Mr. not mentioning any names.”

  “Shaddap.”

  The room that we found ourselves in was a combination conference room and lounge, and was almost as big as the bridge. A large, elliptical table surrounded by padded chairs dominated the center. Like the chairs in the bridge, these were low to the ground with short seats but long backs. Several workstations sat in alcoves along the periphery, alternating with what had to be couches. They were long enough to accommodate the taller Gen, making them luxuriously oversized for humans. The walls featured the same blank finish that characterized the active-display areas in the bridge, a sort of semitranslucent white enamel.

  At the narrow end of the room was a door that no doubt led to the central elevator and hallway, with what appeared to be bathroom doors on either side of it.

  At one point around the periphery, instead of a workstation, the designers had placed a long counter with a sink, cupboards, and what looked like appliances. The finish on the cupboard doors, while not wood, did have a kind of grain. I eyed this space for only a moment before pulling a thermos, some cups, and several bags of snacks out of a carryall and placing them on the counter.

  The most important detail, though, was that the conference room had lots of space for our needs. We wasted no time spreading out on the large central table.

  Nat parked in one of the chairs and set down her laptop. “Uh, Sheldon, are these chairs adjustable at all?”

  “Buttons on the left, beside the seat. But don’t expect miracles. They are designed for beings seven feet in height, not someone less than—”

  “Sheldon!” I interjected. “You really don’t want to go there.”

  Nat grinned at me for a moment, then looked up. “Thanks, Sheldon. I’ll take what I can get.” She reached down, and with a slight whirring sound, the chair began to rise.

  Soon Nat was at an acceptable working height. She popped open her laptop. “I’m going to review my filters, and widen the parameters a little bit, just in case I accidentally ruled out something interesting.”

  “Uh, Nat? No internet?”

  She replied with an expression of exaggerated weariness, “I downloaded my dataset, Jack. Don’t try to teach Grandma Nat how to suck eggs.”

  Nat was easily as smart as me, so trying to second-guess her was a losing game. “Right,” I said. “We’ll re-review the videos and pics.”