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Corsair Mining Site, Dianis
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“What?” The agent on duty nearly missed it. He’d been casually viewing the delayed video feed from the orange birds surveilling the mining site, and it was getting near the end of his watch. The AI hadn’t flagged anything of note. “Scroll back,” he told the AI. “Stop when Krch comes into the frame.”
The orange bird tagged to watching Junko sat on a beam in the rafters of the awning the miners were using as a sun shade. Tables and benches were laid out, and breakfast for the contractors sat half-eaten. There’d been some sort of minor calamity with the sluice works, and Junko and the rest of the contractors had gone to effect repairs. Rather than risk having the constant shadowing of the orange bird be noticed, the bot had been instructed to stay in the rafters while the crew fixed the sluice works. The works were old, of provincial construction, and always breaking under the demands of Junko.
“What is she doing?” he whispered to himself.
Krch walked up to the breakfast table, glanced casually around, drank some water from a glass on the table, and meandered casually over to the other side of the table and sat down. Again, she looked around.
“I thought I told you to keep the orange bird pinned to Junko,” said Mears, leaning over the agent’s shoulder. It was his turn to relieve the watch.
“You did, and I did,” said the agent. “This is the feed from Junko’s bird. He’s off fixing the sluice works with the rest of the crew.”
Krch pulled a vial from her pocket, popped the top, sprinkled, or rather counted something into her hand, and put the vial away. Then, without looking, she swept the hand over a bowl of the freeze-dried gruel the crew was eating for breakfast. She casually picked up a spoon, stirred the gruel, sat the spoon down exactly where she’d picked it up, stood up, and left the frame.
The agent looked at Mears. Then, back to the video feed. “AI, go back to where Krch sprinkles what is in her hand into the bowl. Zoom in, please.”
“She’s dropping something in the bowl?” asked Mears.
The agent nodded absently. “AI, what is in that vial?”
The frame shifted a number of times, zooming in and out, and finally settled on three black specks sitting on top of the gruel before Krch stirred them in. “Foreign organic matter,” came the AI’s response.
Mears sniffed. “Well, that’s helpful. What type of foreign organic matter?”
“Eighty-two percent probability the matter is rodentia feces.”
“What?” said the agent.
“Sixty-three percent probability they are from peromyscus melanotis.”
Shaking his head, the agent said, “Plain language, please.”
“There is a sixty-three percent probability that Krch has deposited mouse manure in Junko’s cereal. The mouse feces, when stirred in, will resemble the dried perk berries the contractors have added to their breakfast to enhance the flavor.”
The agent turned to Mears. “See! I told you! She’s way more entertaining to watch than the foreman! Who knows what other shit she’s been doing? And I mean shit.”
Mears rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling.
“This is hysterical. I can’t wait to watch Junko come back and eat his breakfast. Can we have both orange birds filming? I want one to watch Krch’s face when Junko eats his food.”
But Mears wasn’t laughing.
“What? It’s funny!”
“AI,” said Mears, “what will happen if Junko ingests mouse poop?”
After a pause, the AI answered, “Checking for known pathogens in Dianis rodentia feces.” Mears sat down in the vacant command chair. The AI came back, “Early ITA engineers were reported to come in contact with various forms of rodentia feces when their food supplies were compromised. A sometimes-fatal version of the carnotoro virus was contracted by the ITA engineers until a proper diagnosis was established and treatment provided. IDB Dianis medical records have noted that, properly vaccinated, IDB field staff are sufficiently immune from the virus. Indigenous Human populations on Dianis appear to be naturally immune to the virus.”
Mears arched an eyebrow at the agent. “Krch may be wacko, but she’s smart too. Is this some practical joke of hers about to go awry, or does she know what she is doing?”
The agent said, “With your permission, I’m shifting the mining foreman’s orange bird to Krch. She’s devious. Who knows what else she is doing?”
