Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident (31 page)

Chapter 59

...Individuals who practice the mysterious
art of Truthseeing have always been extraordinarily rare. Only about five
people a year -- out of thousands who make the attempt -- are able to master
the extraordinarily difficult techniques and earn the title of first level
adept. The tradition was started sometime in the late twenty-first century when
the technology necessary for the development of the Truthseer sensor net
finally became available.

There are many common misconceptions
surrounding the profession. The Truthseer sensor net has been referred to as
"the most sophisticated lie detection system ever developed." More
accurately, the sensor net allows the adept to obtain physiological information
about the individual or individuals who are being examined. This information is
used to augment both innate abilities and abilities that the adept has
developed during a rigorous training regime. A bit of background should help
make these concepts more clearly understood.

Starting with a natural ability to judge
emotions and read people, a Truthseer candidate must then undergo a period of
intensive training on how to recognize and integrate each element of a full
array of subtle indicators that allow the adept to tell when subjects are under
stress and the nature of the stress when answering certain questions. Using
this information, Truthseers make uncannily accurate judgments about whether
the subject being examined is being truthful or not. The sensor net, which
often takes the form of a veil for female practitioners of the art, allows the
user to gather real time information on heart rate, changes in breathing, pupil
dilation, galvanic skin response, and another twenty or so physical parameters
that provide information on the emotional state of the subject being examined.

The system is very, very accurate but it is
not perfect. Truthseers have been fooled by sociopaths and occasionally by
special subjects who have been placed under deep hypnotic suggestion. However,
over the last three centuries, they have been correct in their assessments
about ninety-eight percent of the time, which is a remarkable record.

A visible veil or net of some kind is often
used on official occasions when the subject being questioned is to be made
aware that he or she is being examined. The Truthseer may or may not have to be
identified as such, depending on the laws of individual cultures. For more
clandestine purposes, a "net generator" can resemble almost any
familiar object. Such devices can be planted in a room or on a person and
provide all the necessary information to the Truthseer. Remote devices of
small, unobtrusive sizes and shapes have also been produced...
 

...Most Truthseers have been female, only
around ten percent have been male. The males are generally not as effective...

Hartwell Wrist
Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt
is from "Lie Detectors
Throughout
the
Centuries" by Edith Falcone, District Court Judge (ret.), Santana
Quadrant.

Onboard the Meridian Imperial Diplomatic
Ship
Istanbul
, October 10, 2598.

Carlisle and
Harris waited only about a minute outside the door to the cabin where Caleb
Jordon was confined before they were joined by the Ambassador's wife. A member
of the Ambassador's elite personal guard was stationed outside the door. Harris
noticed that the Ambassador's wife was wearing the very same gossamer,
iridescent veil that she had been wearing when she and her husband had
interviewed them just a few hours earlier. He guessed that the veil was what
she had needed from her rooms.

The Scrapyard
survivors had become more and more convinced that Jordan was telling the truth
about his involvement with the terrorist group. In spite of their inauspicious
introduction, Carlisle and her two companions had actually begun to rather like
the little man. Though he knew it wasn't required -- Jordan was a prisoner and
suspected terrorist -- Harris pressed the intercom button.

"Caleb? Can
we talk to you?"

"Lieutenant
Harris?" Caleb replied
,
his voice muffled over
the intercom. "By all means, come in!"

The guard placed
his hand on the reader next to the door and nodded to the three visitors.
Harris worked the latch and pushed the door inward. The two women followed him
in. As had happened every time they went into a compartment onboard the
Ambassador's ship, the two Federation people were nearly overwhelmed by the
opulence of the furnishings. The walls were paneled with what looked to be
genuine wood and the floor was covered with what had to be very expensive
carpeting in a classic Persian motif. The chairs and tables were fussily
ornate, but somehow tasteful.

Eschewing the far
more comfortable overstuffed chairs available, Jordan was sitting on a simple
straight-backed chair reading the pocket Bible that the group had allowed him
to keep. He marked his page, closed the book and looked up at them as they
entered. He certainly didn't look very dangerous, with his long hair tied in a
neat pony tail and his feet not quite reaching the floor. He looked as though
he were still in mourning. His eyes grew wide and he swallowed nervously when
he saw the Ambassador's wife. He immediately came to his feet.

"Lieutenant
Harris, Ensign Carlisle, what can I do for you?" he said, clutching the
bible against his chest with both hands as though it might shield him.

"This is the
Lady Sondia Saladin," said Harris. "She's the wife of the Ambassador.

"That's what
I was afraid of," said Jordan. He looked at her, went to one knee, and
bowed his head. "I am truly sorry for my part in
these
awful goings on, Milady. I know that I deserve to die but, before I do... I
would like to beg your forgiveness."

"Please
relax, Mr. Jordan," said the Lady Sondia. She smiled faintly, perhaps a
little touched by his grand and unexpected gesture. "We are here for more
information. Come, let us sit. In spite of what you may have been told about
us, we Meridians believe that a man is innocent until proven guilty. It is
something we borrowed several centuries ago from the Western cultures of Old
Earth. You have nothing to fear if you are telling the truth."

"Okay...,"
said Jordan. He still had the look of a condemned man.

They each took a
seat in one of the ornate chairs, all except for Jordan, who went back to the
simple, severe chair he had been occupying when he had been interrupted. Harris
took the lead.

"How are you,
Caleb?" he asked. "Are they treating you alright?"

"Oh my,
yes!" said Jordan. "Best prison cell I've ever seen. Best prison
food, too. Come to think of it, maybe the best food I ever had!"
 
He smiled
shyly,
the
first time any of them had seen him do so. Still extremely unsure of himself
around his captors, the presence of the Ambassador's wife added yet another
layer to his feelings of uncertainty. He looked at his feet.

"Glad to
hear it." Harris glanced at the two women before continuing. "We have
some good news, Caleb." The little man looked up expectantly. "A
woman named Hanna Jordan turned herself in to the Orbital Station Authorities
after escaping from the terrorist camp, two days ago."

Jordan sat numbly
for at least five seconds.

"Hanna
wasn't onboard the second ship?"

"No, Caleb,
we're pretty sure she stayed on the station."

The joy on the
man's face was unmistakable. He sat for a long moment with his mouth open, not
making a sound. Finally, he spoke.

"Hanna!
Hanna is alive!" burst out of him. "It's a miracle! Praise the
Lord!" He began to weep openly and unashamedly.

"Yes, she's
alive and, according to Commander Kresge, she's been a lot of help."

"I had given
up hope!"

"There are
still some serious problems, Caleb. We need to ask you a few more questions if
you don't mind."

"No problem,
Lieutenant. Ask away," said Jordan, wiping his eyes on the back of his
sleeve. The news about his wife had transformed him. His eyes were brighter as
he squared his shoulders and sat up straighter in the chair.

"Lady Sondia
would like to go first," said Harris.

Jordan swallowed
nervously. The Ambassador's wife looked at him through her veil and asked a
series of questions.

"What is
your name?"

"My name is
Caleb Matthew Jordan," he replied, looking straight at his questioner.

"Where are
you from?"

"I live in
the village of Nazareth on the continent of Rapture on Heard's World, out here
in the Santana Quadrant."

The Lady Saladin
asked him several more seemingly trivial questions and watched him intently as
he responded to each of them. Her large, dark eyes seemed to be focusing
alternately on Jordan and, oddly, on her veil. Finally she got to the meat of
the matter.

"Were you
telling the truth when you said that you and your wife had been tricked into
helping this group of terrorists?"

Again Caleb
Jordan looked her straight in the eye. His gaze never faltered.

"Yes, Ma'am, as God is my witness."

She nodded her
head towards Harris. "I have no more questions."

"My
turn," said Harris. Jordan transferred his attention to the Lieutenant.
"Did you by any chance help to salvage anything else besides those two
pulse cannons from that Opposition cruiser when you were there?"

Jordan frowned in
thought, but only for a moment or two before answering.

"No,
Lieutenant, it took me and three other workers the better part of a day and a
half to dismount those two guns and transfer them to the freighters."

"Just the two guns, nothing else?"

"No,
but...," Caleb thought for a moment, "...but
me
and those three men weren't the only ones working on that ship. Ezra had
another two or three men with him and they were working somewhere else. They
were all a part of his inner circle, if you know what I mean. They'd found a
bunch of suits of old battle armor still in the lockers. I don't know how many,
but it I think it was somewhere around twenty of them. We had four sets on the
Armegeddon II
. I managed to get into one
of them before you guys hit our ship the second time. That was the same armor
that probably saved your life during the second battle, Lieutenant."

"Did you see
them bring anything else onto either one of the ships?"

"No, I
didn't..." He thought again for a moment. "Wait, there were a couple
of sensor units...and there was a crate in the forward hold of Ezra's ship when
we were loading the first gun. I only saw it once. When I came back a few hours
later, it wasn't there anymore."

"How big was
that crate?"

"It was a
cube, maybe a meter and a half per side."

Carlisle and
Harris looked at one another.

"What is
it?" asked Jordan.

"We think
there's a pretty good chance that it might have been the nuclear self- destruct
unit from that old cruiser."

Jordan paled and
his mouth dropped open.

"It gets
worse. Just a few hours ago Ezra announced that he has planted a nuclear device
onboard the orbital station. He's threatened to set if off if we don't meet his
demands."

"May God
have
mercy!
"

"We'll pray
with you, Caleb," said Harris.
"Another question.
How well do you know this Ezra character?"

"What do you
mean?"

"Well... is he
the kind of man that would use a device like that to commit suicide and take a
bunch of innocent people with him? Could he be bluffing?"

"I...I
really can't say. Good Lord, I sure hope it's a bluff! You'd have to ask Hanna,
she knows him better than me. Yeah,
ask
Hanna, she'd
know, she used to have him in her Sunday worship classes."

Harris looked at
the two women. No one had anything else they wanted to ask him about. The three
visitors got up to leave.

"That's all
for now, Caleb. Thanks for your help."

Jordan bowed his
head and began praying as they left.

"Dear Lord,
I thank you for saving my beloved Hanna..."

Harris, Carlisle
and Lady Saladin gathered in the corridor outside the room. The guard closed
the door behind them and resumed his station.

"He's
telling the truth," said Lady Saladin.

"I think so
too but how can we be sure?" asked Harris.

"The same
way she could tell that we were who we said we were." Carlisle looked at
Lady Saladin. "You're a Truthseer, aren't you, Ma'am?" It was more a
statement than it was a question.

"Yes...Yes,
I am," replied Lady Saladin. "The veil betrayed me, didn't it?"

"Sort of.
I did a search of my wrist comp
database."

"It's really
not a secret, but we don't go broadcasting it."

"I imagine
that your abilities are a great help to your husband."

"You could
say that. On the other hand, he has to be really careful what he says around
me!" They all laughed.

"For now,
may Allah be
praised,
Caleb Jordan is telling the
truth!"

Chapter 60

"...It has been said that religion is one
of Mankind's greatest inventions. I won't dispute that. There can be absolutely
no doubt that religion has done Mankind a great deal of good. In the beginning,
religion provided explanations for the things that frighten us. Perhaps
religion's greatest contribution was that it provided guidelines that allowed
us to live together without killing each other. For part of the time
anyway..."

(There was a
pause for polite laughter from the audience before the speaker continued.)

...On occasion, people will make sacrifices
for one another. A wise man once said that one of the real powers of religion
is that it provides a mechanism to create warriors willing to die for their god
and their fellow believers. In other words, that induces people to willingly
die for strangers. Imagine how powerful this concept was in primitive
societies!

...Religions quickly evolved into mechanisms
that were and still are used to control people, for certain individuals to
amass power. However, one could argue that because of the more organized and
stable social arrangements made possible by religion we were able to create
perhaps our most important invention: Science. As you know, Science and
religion have been at odds with one another ever since...
(More laughter)
 

...At the current time, the same
incomprehensible religious conflicts that have plagued Mankind for millennia
continue to rage even after we have spread out to populate the Galaxy. Does it
really matter how many angels can dance on the head of a pin? Do we care? Where
does it all end? I personally think that humans have reached the point in their
development were we have outgrown religion. If you ask me the time has come for
us to move on...
(Applause.)

Hartwell Wrist
Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt
is from an address delivered during a fund raising tour to the Intergalactic
Society of Agnostics by F.C. Talbot, CEO of The Talbot Institute.

Onboard the Meridian Imperial Diplomatic
Ship Istanbul, October 10, 2598.

Two hours later,
Carlisle was sitting in one of the ornate overstuffed chairs in the opulent
private quarters that had been provided for her by the Ambassador. She was
intently examining several data files simultaneously and had three of them
displayed in holographic form in the air in front of her. The soft chime
announcing that someone was at the door sounded.

"Who is
it?" she called out, not taking her eyes off from the displays.

"It's me,
Harris."

"Just a minute, Lieutenant."
She tore her gaze off
from the display, stood up and stretched. She left her wrist comp on the ornate
table next to her chair, with the displays still running. She stopped in front
of the room's elaborately-gilded mirror for a quick scan of her appearance. She
brushed a strand of hair out from in front of her eyes and, satisfied that
things weren't too much amiss beyond that, went over to open the door. Harris
stepped into the room and she closed the door behind him.

"What can I
do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I came to
give you a heads up. The Ambassador's wife wants to see you in her
quarters
right after our next scheduled call with Kresge.
She said she wanted to discuss some things with you."

Carlisle,
suddenly nervous, shifted involuntarily into stammer mode.

"Ambassdor's wife... diplomatic protocol... formal
clothing..."
She looked towards the empty wardrobe on the other
side of the room. "I haven't anything to wear! Omigod! What do I say? What
do I do?"

"Easy,
Ensign," said Harris, anticipating her reaction but unable to suppress a smile
anyway. "You'll do just fine. They asked me for some more detail about you
so I gave her and her husband a short run down on your dissertation project.
They both got really interested.
Especially when I mentioned
F.C. Talbot."

"They know
about Talbot?"

"Seems
so...," said Harris, with a shrug. "I wouldn't make a big deal out of
it. Just be
yourself
, everything will be fine."

"I'm not so
sure..."

"I mean it.
Relax. She might even have information you can use for your project."

"If you say
so..."

She nodded but
still looked a little nervous. Harris changed the subject.

"How are you
coming on your other project, tactics for handling the terrorist situation on
the orbital station?"

She sighed and
led him over to the area she was working on her wrist comp. They stood side by
side as she pointed out highlights on the displays. Once again Harris was
acutely aware of being near her. She didn't really have to stand that close,
did she? With some effort, he returned his concentration to the displays.

For her part,
Carlisle was glad to see him. In spite of her instincts to the contrary, due to
her misadventures at the Academy, her trust for this young officer continued to
grow stronger the more they worked together. Also, she was beginning to admit,
she felt herself increasingly more attracted to him as well. It felt good to be
near him again.

"Well, I've
been going over a ton of reports on hostage situations from the last hundred
and fifty years or so and..." She stopped and gave him an exasperated
look.

"...and?"
Harris prompted.

"Well...
there just doesn't seem to be much to go on. No discernable pattern. About a
third of the cases I've been looking at end in total disaster, with hostages
and terrorists both dead. Another third end with the terrorists getting away
with the ransom and then they kill the hostages or the hostages were dead long
before the money was paid. Another third...well, you get the picture."

"Sounds pretty grim."

"Yeah.
On the bright side, only one other case involved
a nuclear device and that was resolved when the perpetrators gave themselves
up. The device was never detonated."

"I have a
suggestion..."

"At this
point, I'm open to almost anything, what is it?"

"Forget
about all of this research. Use your gut. What would you do if you were in charge
of the situation on the orbital station? Forget about the stakes and all the
emotional baggage for a moment. Condense it down to a simple tactical problem.
We'll worry about messy details later. What's the best way to go?"

She thought that
over for a good long moment.

"When you
put it that way...I think I'd handle the situation as two separate
problems."

"Okay, good.
What two problems?"

"They have
hostages and they have a nuclear device."

"Explain?"

"Okay... They
have four important hostages that they can threaten to harm any time they want
some kind of immediate action. Without the hostages, the only thing they have
is the nuclear device. The bomb is far from a trivial matter, but the only way
they can use that device is to commit suicide. I think we'd have more leeway if
they were down to a suicide device as their only option. We could manipulate
them a bit more easily. It's even possible that the device doesn't work or that
they don't have the codes to activate it."

"So you're
suggesting that Kresge should attempt to rescue the hostages first and then
deal with the nuclear threat?"

"Well...
Yes. I guess I am. Trouble is this plan assumes that the terrorist leader isn't
completely insane."

"Well, as
Caleb suggested, maybe we'd better talk to Hanna Jordan if we can and see if
she has some kind of insight into that man's soul."

"Damned
religious nutcases!" said Carlisle, shaking her head. "What drives
these people, anyway?"

"Can't say I
know for sure," said Harris.
"Seems like they're
all very rigid in their beliefs and utterly convinced that their cause is just.
Many of them claim that they talk to God."

"What utter
nonsense!"
 

"I take it
you aren't particularly religious?"

"A lot of
Spacers are, Lieutenant, but I'm not one of them. Not since I was a little girl
anyway.
You?"

Harris looked
thoughtful.

"I believe
that there's some kind of higher power," he said, finally. "I don't
know that I believe in organized religion."

"A lot of
bad things have been done in the name of religion," said Carlisle.

"A lot of
good things have happened too."

"Talbot says
that religion has served its purpose and it's time we outgrew the whole concept
and moved on to something better."

"That sounds
like an uphill battle!"

"I'm not saying
I agree with him, but if a change is to come, the movement has to start
somewhere."

"I suppose
so. These arguments have been raging for centuries, Ensign. I'm not sure that
the two of us are going to solve this problem in the next few minutes!"

She smiled at
him.

"You're
right, Lieutenant. But you do make a good sounding board. Like I told you back
on the
Terrier
, we make a good team.
I need more of that."

Harris,
remembering the moment and how he'd been on the verge of kissing her, felt like
he'd been kicked in the stomach. With an effort, he fought the feeling down.

"Anytime, Ensign.
Are you at a holding spot? We need to
get up to the bridge for Kresge's call."

She closed down
the displays and slipped her wrist comp back into place before the two of them
left her quarters and headed for the bridge.