Chapter 7

Hector Finch:

I worried. I worried about Earth’s reception of Charles and Naomi. More particularly, I worried about Naomi and Syretia’s pregnancies. Andromeda could tell, and was a little offended. “They will be fine.”

“I know,” I said. “It’s normal for a human father to worry about his wife’s pregnancy, especially with the physiological differences between human and Promethean. You know I trust you, really, and the doctors seem happy.”

Yes, our Terran trained doctors, while interested and monitoring carefully, seemed quite happy with Syretia’s progress. I insisted that she stay dirtside for the last couple of months. The Navy, I insisted, could manage without her. She was not entirely happy with that. However, she got involved with Gladys Ross in the brewery, and took over supervision whilst Gladys was away escorting Charles’ transport. To be fair, the brewery was running smoothly and needed little supervision, but we certainly didn’t want any batch spoiled.

Perhaps we’d all relaxed. I still had at least one escort when out, but I certainly didn’t expect to be personally at risk. There’d been a steady trickle of immigrants arriving via Mat Trans, and a few by Fold-Space transport. Jason returned once the diplomatic process had been completed, and the transport came too, bringing a handful of immigrants who preferred not to be ‘broken down into their constituent atoms and reassembled’ by the matter transmission system. At least, that was the stated reason.

Over the next few weeks, there were ... incidents. Incidents which were minor, but with potentially serious effects. Incidents which would not be explained or traced to a particular source. The notifications went to James and the security contingent. James later told me he didn’t want to bother me with trivia, but after the third he came to me.

“Odd things are happening,” he said. “A marine was injured when he hit a concealed hole in the path. Broken leg. There have been intrusions into secure areas, attempts to get past security.”

“Andromeda,” I raised my voice slightly.

“Yes, Hex?”

“What can you tell us?”

“I have been monitoring three immigrants from Earth, that arrived by ship, not Mat Trans.” She paused, just briefly. “Actually, I monitored all of them, but three have been behaving ... atypically. One of them dug the hole James just mentioned and concealed it. I have images of him and the other two attempting to access administrative and support areas, including the climate controls.”

“But you didn’t mention this to us?”

The silence might have been embarrassed. Her voice sounded small, somehow. “I’m sorry, Hex. You know about my privacy protocols. They are deeply engrained in my programming.”

I do so hate thinking about Andromeda as ‘programmed’.

“Sweetheart, I know. I’m not angry. But this sort of thing is like a sort of social cancer. Please continue to monitor. We need to see if they are the only ones. I suppose I need...”

“You need to enhance your security, Hex.”

“Shit.”

We agreed that Andromeda would continue to monitor to see if the three she identified had any associates. I would have an additional escort observing from a distance as well as my direct escort. I had a thought. “Are my escorts armoured at all?”

“Vests only,” James said.

“Andromeda, those force screens you used when that admiral tried to arrest me...”

“They were projected in the buildings. However, there are personal units. I will supply enough for the personal protection personnel. And one for you.”

“Thank you, Sweetheart.”

“The screens are good for beam and small projectile protection. Not for blades or poison.”

“Thanks for the warning.” I sighed, and left with my shadow.

I was not threatened or attacked in any way. But the surveillance revealed one other immigrant behaving ‘atypically’. They were rounded up and interviewed, denying anything negative toward the colony. However, when confronted with video evidence, they went silent. Shock, not guilt.