Earth Song: Etude to War by Mark Wandrey Page B

that number going up or down?”
    “Down,” Pip replied without looking up. “It has not gone up in the records.”
    “How is that possible?”
    “The oldest records are limited because of the database purging itself, like we discovered from the self-destructing data storage chips. There are partial records a couple million years old, which is where I found the high water mark.”
    Which means that number might not even be the largest , Minu thought before speaking again. “Has it ever gone up or has the decline been steady?”
    This time he didn't have the immediate answer. His eyes glazed over for a second and she knew he was using his link to access the computers. “Yes,” he said after almost a minute, “it has gone up. In decreasing regularity, there have been brief periods of increase that last from a few decades to several centuries. Also intermittent times of stability with almost no decrease in species density.”
    “Fun side project for you,” she said, Pip snorted but listened. “Run those ups and downs through that massive brain of yours and see if you can find any sort of a pattern or correlation. Something that precipitated the temporary increases, anything.”
    “You never ask too much, do you?”
    “Sarcasm, did you just invent that?” He made an offhanded comment she didn't catch because she was digging around looking for a data-chip. “I have some data here I wanted you to try and find…” she said so he wouldn't think she'd just left.
    “And here I thought you were hiding from my superior intellect.”
    “No chance of that, Khan.” This time his laugh was genuine. “Aaron, where did you put my bag?”
    “Closet,” he yelled back from the kitchen. “You dumped it by the door after you came in from your run.” The scorn in his voice was evident, even over the sounds of cooking. But he'd known she wasn't much of a housekeeper when he married her. He'd also appreciated her tendency to run around the place naked, at least until the press discovered her hideout. Now her nudity was restricted to indoors, most of the time.
    “Be right back,” she said and went to the closet. Out in the main room the smell of the now confirmed lamb fajitas was almost overpowering. Saliva flooded her mouth and made her stomach grumble, reminding her it was hours since lunch. “Almost ready?” she asked as she opened the closet.
    “Ten minutes,” he replied, “I just put a bottle of mead in the chiller.”
    “Awesome.” In the closet was her field bag, not the shoulder bag she took to school and back. She opened her mouth to complain that it was the wrong bag, when she realized it was her old field bag. Aaron had been cleaning recently and must have mistaken it for her current one. They were similar in appearance. The difference was the contents.
    Without comment she picked up the bag and took it into the bedroom. Pip watched her from space as she sat it on the desk and pulled out equipment. Sensors, field rations (well past expiration now), the big bore semi-auto pistol Aaron and Gregg had designed, with extra magazines. Everything was still there from years ago when they'd gone to the far reaches of the galaxy to save Pip. She'd dropped the bag in the back of the bedroom closet and hadn't touched it since. It was the last time she'd been on a field mission for the Chosen, Jacob had seen to that.
    She spent a few minutes checking out things in the pack, even noting a small bloodstain on the strap and how worn the Velcro latches were. How many missions had she carried this bag on? Dozens at least. Maybe a hundred? She sighed and lifted the bag to begin repacking it when a ration package rolled out. She was about to scoop it back in when it rattled. Why had she put an empty ration pack back in her bag? And what was rattling inside?
    She popped it open and shook the contents into her hand. Three small bones, ancient and dirt-encrusted; they looked like they'd just been dug from the ground.
    “What are