CHAPTER 14
Mattoso waited in Data Central, a crowded space near the forward Ring, buzzing with computer terminals. A jenji cat roamed the terminals, meowing in front of each tech until she got the scratch or pat she desired. The XO had said that the murder investigation was complete. But XO isn’t here. Days before, Lieutenant Mattoso had made an appointment with the Data Systems department chief, Master Tech Lopez, to go over DT1 Muahe’s routine and duties. She had no other duties at the moment, so she decided not to cancel the appointment. She knew the XO might tell her that the investigation was over. But something still went wrong. Even if it was just a gear malfunction, the engineer in her wanted to know. Even more than that, whe wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again and hurt one of her shipmates.
Lopez was scowling. “I’m rather busy at the moment, Lieutenant, but DT3 Wren here would be happy to take you through Theo’s basic routine.” He immediately left for some other task.
Wren was short, slight, and round-hipped, and so bursting with youth that Mattoso wondered if he had finished growing. “Well, Lieutenant, I’m here to help in any way I can.” The smarmy tone of the technician’s high-pitched voice did not lend confidence to his words.
Mattoso asked to go through Muahe’s routine. The young tech scowled for an instant before demonstrating his department’s most common duties, one of which appeared to be affectionately nuzzling the department cat.
The tasks of data technicians were somehow both endlessly convoluted and endlessly tedious, but then perhaps her Operations tasks, balancing in real time the oft-conflicting power and system needs of the myriad of departments on board Aotea, would be equally unpleasant to data technicians.
Mattoso’s mind drifted during Wren’s droning. In her off time she had been compiling sources on an interest of hers, the history of the formation of the Society for a New Humanity, and the organization’s ultimate goal, the construction and launch of the colony ship that she and twenty thousand others called home. There were gigs and gigs of data on most cycles in the decades prior to launch, but there were frustrating gaps, coinciding with apparent dips in SNH influence and wealth. Maybe I’ll ask Elena Conneer. The journalist seemed to have access to information ranging from the obscure to the forgotten. She surprised herself by realizing that just a few cycles ago, the idea of bypassing the ship’s records onboard for an unofficial source of information would have struck her as dubious, if not sacrilegious.
Something DT3 Wren said snapped Mattoso back to the present, and she asked him to repeat it.
“I said that the NetBug tracer is a cyclical task, but Theo must have wanted to get it out of the way since it wasn’t due for a quarter-cycle or so.”
“Hold on a minute,” responded Mattoso, reading her notes on her lens. She scrolled to what she’d noted the first time she and Konami talked to DTM Lopez. “You said it’s every cycle?”
“Yeah,” yawned Wren. “It’s a pain in the ass — needs a deep trawl of the net, and it can be disruptive to users while it’s in progress.” Mattoso located the line in her notes — DTM notes that Muahe’s tracer task was every thirty days. She shook her head to herself. Thirty days ain’t the three hundred-day cycle, Master Tech!
Wren sniffed. “But Theo, he was special…” The young tech cleared his throat. “He had a great work ethic, is what I’m saying. He would always help you, no matter what, and always wanted to stay ahead of things.” Mattoso hesitated, and added a note that DT3 Wren seemed to have some very fond feelings for the deceased. She double-checked the security settings for her notes to make sure they were private.
“Master Tech?” Mattoso called out gently, repeating herself until Lopez turned around from the monitor he and another tech were hunched over.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” grunted the scowling man.
“What’s the periodicity to run a NetBug tracer?”
Lopez’s mouth hung open for a fraction of a second. “Why, every cycle, of course. It’s a very demanding task.”
“Are you sure? After the incident, you said it was every thirty days.”
“I don’t think so, Lieutenant. I’m quite sure I wouldn’t make that mistake.”
She wanted to respond, but couldn’t come up with anything before he spoke again.
“If you’ll excuse me, Lieutenant, we’ve been a bit short-handed since the tragic death of one of my best men, so I need to get back to work.” The master tech turned and proceeded to a terminal at the other end of Data Central.
“Whoa, that’s cold,” said DT3 Wren.
Could my memory be off? As Wren brought her to another task, she reviewed the notes for a third time. No. No fucking way I hear “cyclical” and enter “every thirty days.”
If she wasn’t wrong, then she wasn’t sure what that actually meant.