Jaydium by Deborah J. Ross Page B

things that can go wrong.
    She ought to be excited or at least pleased. This was what she dreamed about, wasn’t it — a whole new world to explore? And, as Eril had pointed out, she was off Stayman. Then what the hell was wrong with her?
    Brianna’s voice floated back to her. “I can’t handle the security for a jaydium find by myself,” she was saying to Eril. Her speech sounded as natural as if she were speaking their own language without any mechanical intermediary. The echo effect had completely disappeared.
    â€œIf it’s really there, we can’t risk someone else discovering it before we get to it and either mining the stuff for themselves or holding it for ransom.”
    â€œWe’ll cooperate in any way we can,” Eril said.
    Kithri scowled again, her saliva turning acid. “Why should you trust us, anyway?” she asked Brianna. “How do you know we aren’t pirates ourselves? We could’ve lied about the jaydium.”
    â€œMy scientific training enables me to understand cultures from their physical remains,” Brianna replied over her shoulder. “You couldn’t fool me even if you tried. I instructed the translator to analyze your language for aggressive concepts, and it would have picked up a mercenary’s specialized jargon. Your naivete is one of the most convincing arguments for the truth of your story.”
    Kithri shut her mouth and vowed not to put her feet anywhere near it again.
    o0o
    At the center of Brianna’s camp stood a wide-based dome tent ringed with smaller storage bubbles. The mottled green and ivory structure blended with the grove as if an artist had designed the ideal marriage of tree and human dwelling. Brianna swung open the translucent door and led them inside.
    Lights flashed on automatically at their entrance. Kithri glanced around, trying not to look impressed. Inside the spacious central laboratory, instruments and specimen containers covered the rows of freestanding shelving and tables. She recognized spectrophotometers, miniaturized nucleomagnetic resonators, qualitative analysis gear and a computer for analysis and data storage. She knew enough about scientific apparatus to realize the sophistication — and cost — of Brianna’s equipment.
    Yet the laboratory seemed subtly wrong — too big, too spread out, as if it had been designed for more than a single researcher. Kithri had only her memories of her father’s tiny laboratory to compare it to. It had been compact from efficiency, not necessity. On Stayman, space had hardly been at a premium, but it made no sense to walk halfway across the room to take a sample from one instrument to another. Here, the areas that looked well-used were scattered, interspersed with others that seemed to be mere storage.
    Brianna seated herself at a desk and removed the protective cover of a small instrument that seemed to be mostly mirrors and a square keypad. “You’re familiar with the principle of the neo-ansible?”
    â€œSomething like that,” Eril answered.
    Brianna settled the threadwork headset over her ears and activated the device. She tapped a complex pattern on the keypad. After a few moments, the triangular screen flashed yellow.
    Kithri noticed the lines of Brianna’s profile and how the folds of her jumpsuit hugged her full breasts and hips. She rubbed her nose where it had been broken and remembered Avery’s pristine beauty. Then she saw the half-healed scars, pink and raised, covering Brianna’s hands. The nails were short and misshapen, some of them blackened as if they’d grown out after being smashed.
    Kithri turned on one heel and stroke to the far side of the laboratory. Lennart followed her at a more leisurely pace.
    â€œDo you recognize any of this stuff?”
    â€œNot the specifics, no,” she said. “But it all looks familiar.” She ran one finger along a small lensed instrument,