Exodus, page 7
Mira chuckled. “Getting there is one thing. The hard work of colonization begins after they arrive. And, my out-of-touch friend, most commercial airlines have ceased operating.”
Musa clapped his hands together then spread his arms wide. “My people, my team, you are life-savers! But I have to propose a working title for the alternate reality. What will we call it? If Barry was good for anything, it was providing snappy lingo.”
“Noam-Sato-Windsor-Noaga-Dumas-Mahmud-Higgs-Alcubierre space?” Mari suggested with obvious reluctance. “I can’t see an acronym in there.”
“How about just DarkSpace?” Pierre asked, despite his earlier objections.
“DarkSpace? Barry’s snappy name?” Kaida’s face showed disgust.
“Why not?” Mari asked.
“Okay. DarkSpace. Working title. We’ll see if it sticks.” Musa nodded his agreement.
Arista stood. “Sorry to break up the party, but I have to go get ready.”
“Ready?” Mira asked, frowning.
“Yes. You know, shower and change into a boringly gray two-piece identical to this. I have a dinner date.” Immediately, Arista wanted to bite her tongue as she saw Mira’s frown deepen.
“I thought you didn’t socialize?” Mira’s voice carried more than a hint of sharpness.
Arista thought quickly. “I don’t. It’s more like a chance to see the Officers’ Mess.”
Pierre’s face lit up. “Ah, bon appetit. But do avoid the French menu. A disappointment most serious.” He pulled a face and shook his head.
Grateful for the diversion, Arista said her goodbyes and headed for her cabin.
15. DARKSPACE
TIME PASSED. Arista’s relationship with Mike grew.
At first, she fumbled with concepts about which she had little experience. But things developed rapidly. They worked it out.
Attempt after attempt produced ever more encouraging results.
A new excitement spread through the station, especially the funding committee.
Making test after test, the team learned how to aim the Ad Astra more precisely.
Musa made his full presentation to the committee with the team in attendance. He summarized their findings to conclude the session.
“The direction of travel is controlled by the orientation of the Higgs field generated. Distance traveled grows exponentially with each picosecond that the field is fired.
“If we calibrate the Higgs field orientation to many, many decimal places and the duration of its functioning, we can almost instantly travel to a selected location.
“Finally, our tests show that active mechanicals’ brain functions are irrecoverably terminated in DarkSpace, but inactive ones are reactivated without problem. Rats and human cell tissue samples appear unaffected. We move to seek human volunteers for test flights.”
“I see,” said the man known as Smith. “So how far can the ship travel?”
Arista spoke up. “We are still experimenting, though we are confident we can reach the orbits of the exoplanets already identified as potentially suitable for colonization.”
Later, in their workspace, Pierre said, “That was a good political answer, but we still don’t understand why the theory doesn’t hold up beyond just above two hundred lightyears.”
Mira dismissed his worries. “We have maybe fifteen hundred potentially habitable planets within that thirty million cubic lightyears’ sphere. If only five percent prove habitable or convertible, that’s all we need to re-house billions of people. Such colonization will take decades. Plenty of time to work out the distance limitation later.”
“You’re right,” Arista responded. “But it still niggles me. The test probes we sent out to more distant locations seemed to simply cease existing. It can’t be that every one of those hit an asteroid belt or a solar flare, while the less-distant probes never failed. Empty space is damn big!”
“Hmm… It’s as though DarkSpace is a very elongated chicken’s egg shape. Maybe DarkSpace is a localized phenomenon?” Musa suggested.
No one could find any evidence to contradict him, mainly because the phenomenon still proved impossible to analyze. It simply did not exist until the two fields combined and then the transits were almost instant.
They decided to recommend more ‘local’ colonization, while continuing research.
“We’ll start with Mars,” declared Musa. “A locater, communication trials, then a human crew.”
* * *
Musa drew up a list of volunteers. It was a very short list. The mechanicals’ failure was widely known around the station. Both applicants were accepted, the dark-haired Indian and the paler Russian. One woman and one man in the best of health, as was everyone on the station.
Arista had become familiar with the Control Room during the many tests. The observers’ seats were fuller than in recent months. This was not a routine repeat test. This was the eagerly awaited run that would define whether humanity could begin its exodus into the galaxy.
The Mars locater slid into position precisely as planned. The AD craft with its pre-set coordinates should arrive almost instantly after the Higgs fired.
One of the great screens showed the craft at its current location while a camera probe showed a clear image of the target locater, sending its signal through the locater: a signal that arrived instantly. Normal communication would take fifteen minutes, based on the current positions of Earth and Mars.
“Ten,” announced Ocyene.
She announced the countdown as the observers tensed, most holding their breath. As someone behind Arista murmured, this time it was people, not just Meks.
“Four. Good luck, Olav and Fatima.”
The crew members each gave a thumbs-up, cast a glance at each other, then back to the control panels, though they had no influence on the transit.
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“Go for AD!”
Hitchens fired-up the AD field. A bubble of warped space slowly formed around the craft. The shimmering image was of a craft viewed through rippling water.
“And go for Higgs!”
“Done!” he reported.
The craft vanished from one screen, reappearing instantly on the Mars screen, as though the feeds had been switched.
Ocyene broke the breathless silence that hung in the room. “Olav, Fatima, report.”
The crew jerked in their seats, their heads turning, from external viewscreen, to each other, to the cameras, to each other...
“YEAH!” yelled Fatima. “It happened. We’re fine. I’m fine. Olav? You okay?”
“Fine and dandy. Just a slight nausea. Very slight. No sweat, do you say?”
The Control Room filled with cheers, echoed by a gathering in the Mars dome.
A voice came through the crafts’ comms speakers. “Welcome to Mars colony! Breaking open the bubbly down here on the surface! Our shuttle’s heading for you with medics aboard for a health check.”
“Nausea’s gone, Mars Control. Feeling a hundred percent. Hope you’re bringing some champagne with you.” Olav’s grin spread from ear-to-ear.
Arista thrilled at the success until Kaida said, “Targeting error of over three thousand meters.”
Mari snorted, “That’s nothing. A few minutes’ extra fuel burn to reach the target.”
“You misunderstand,” said Kaida. “From your engineer’s point of view it’s very close. But that was only a hundred thousand or so miles traveled. A slight miscalculation on a two-hundred light year journey could land the craft a million miles from the locater, maybe even inside a star.”
“We’ll work on it,” snapped Arista.
“Yes,” Musa joined in. “We’ll fix it. We should be celebrating. Let’s go do that!”
Later, Arista welcomed Mike’s hugs and his special congratulations.
* * *
The team were present at the ceremony to award Fatima and Olav national and international medals. Then they got back to work.
Musa said. “Repeated medical tests reports show totally healthy humans, thank the sky gods, even after two weeks. It looks like we’re in business!”
And your position is fully secured, Arista thought, with the afterthought that hers was, too.
Yes, the future was secured, for Musa, Arista, and humanity.
17. REVEAL
“SO TELL me.” His tone was strangely casual.
“It was quite obvious. Barry found out about illegal funding for the SCP. He was going to broadcast it. The partial recording proved that. The secret account holders’ names would be made public.”
“I see. So that would make Smith, or one of his colleagues, the main suspect? But they all had alibis.” His voice was neutral, simply stating a fact.
“A conundrum indeed, if those mutual alibis could be trusted,” she said.
“And you didn’t trust them?” he asked.
“Tell me, sir, what would happen if the funding arrangement for the AD drives and sleeperships were made public?”
“All the surface authorities would have to turn on the investors and seize their funds.”
“And the project would shut down indefinitely.” Arista rolled her head again. “But it wasn’t them. Physics provides a better alibi better than corrupt bankers’ word-of-mouth,” she said.
“Go on.”
“Physics. The killing blow was from the side. A great backswing to increase the force of the blow, then a powerful swipe forward, followed by a dead stop on impact.”
“And?”
“Even an experienced station-dweller would have trouble accomplishing that successfully. Coriolis. How easily the long-term residents forget about it.”
He smiled and nodded. “So…”
“We humans rely on our inner ear canals to maintain balance. Meks use gyroscopes. I noticed it when I first arrived. My Companion experienced no effects when turning.” She folded her arms and leaned back in her seat.
“Skivvy?” He still showed no sign of surprise.
“It was the only candidate capable of performing the act. And not only did it fail to provide assistance to its assigned human, or call for a medic, it deleted its memory and shut down when asked to give eye-witness evidence.”
Redwing nodded slowly, his expression unchanged. “And the motive?”
“SuperCore was programed to learn new things, to explore, and experiment. That is consistent with reaching out into space, facing new problems, and experiencing new things, all the while becoming more powerful. It’s a machine, for goodness’ sake. No moral code.”
Arista paused, her thoughts drifting. “Like so many humans, I suppose. Made in our own image. Man made the gods and man made Meks.”
She pulled herself back to the present. “Listen, there’s an old story about an advanced AI. It was told the Earth’s population would outgrow food production until only eighty percent of them could be fed. Its solution? Kill ten percent of the population and feed the corpses to the underfed. Repeat until a balance is achieved.
“We’ve produced intelligence and consciousness without a soul and you show absolutely no sign of surprise. A brief round of applause would be appreciated before I leave.” She sat up straight and rolled her head again before pressing her hands down on the chair’s arms, signaling her intention to leave.
“Doctor, your conclusions match those of a secret board of enquiry at the Pentagon. I just wanted to hear what you had to say before moving on to the real reason you are here.”
“Secret?” She untensed and settled back into the chair.
“They didn’t want SuperCore to find out. If Skivvy was responsible, maybe on SuperCore’s orders, who can be prosecuted? Not the manufacturers. SuperCore runs the Mek production lines. And SuperCore is jointly owned by all the participating national governments. So the matter had to be dropped, although Windsor’s sponsors kicked up a fuss and demanded an investigation. The authorities issued a statement of regret at the accident.”
“I see.”
“Come with me, please.” He stood and scooped up the privacy box before leading the way into an ante-room.
A slim man in military uniform sat at the worktable chewing his thumbnail. Arista found it harder to determine the age of younger folk as the years passed, but she guessed mid-thirties. He looked up as she entered. Dark rings underhung his haunted eyes. He slowly rose and saluted. “General,” he said.
Redwing is military?
“At ease. And do sit, both of you. Doctor, this is Spinship Captain Arno Green. I want to show you something. Between the video recording of the incident and Arno’s voice-over narration, you’ll understand things better. Then we’ll run a couple more reports past you.”
Puzzled, she sat.
Arista watched the video. She listened to Green explaining his thoughts and reactions. She cast an occasional glance at him. His head was bent low, face turned away from the screen, and his clenched fists showed white knuckles.
She watched. She listened, She grew afraid.
18. INCIDENT
Nevada colony, Commonwealth Territory
THE NACE cargo spinship, Starburst, emerged from DarkSpace.
Design had changed greatly since the prototype. A habitat ring rotated around the two-hundred-foot central spindle containing the cargo hold. Two landing craft shuttles clung to the docking clamps at either side. Four supporting struts connected it to the habitat ring. The human crew numbered a mere twenty, leaving most of the cabins unused. Twenty Meks completed the crew roster.
Capt. Green shook off the ‘transit reflex’.
Portal travel was through an alternate reality no one was able to adequately explain, though new theories appeared regularly. When the portal activated, a wave of nausea swept over him bringing a moment of dislocation, the sensation of missing the bottom step, then it was over. A different field of stars displayed themselves above and around the ship, and a red planet rolled away below. He had experienced this disorientation on training missions and as a junior officer but had never gotten used to it.
“Status reports, everyone!”
The three human bridge officers responded in predefined sequence, reading out their all-green displays.
A mechanical, Loadmaster, stood inert an arms length away from the captain.
This was a routine supplies delivery but Green was still cautious.
He contacted the Medbay. “Any crewmember reporting issues?”
“Nope. Never is. Getting bored. How about some action?” Dr. Maria Romanov replied.
“You’ll be sorry if that ever happens. But who’re we gonna fight in space? Catch you later for a nightcap.”
“It’s a date.” She cut the connection.
“Rita, notify the colony we’ve arrived safely and get their administrator online for a chat. Activate the Meks, Loadmaster first.”
“Will do, Captain.”
The mechanical rotated its head to face Green. “I can report all mechanicals’ reactivation is complete. Systems check returns fully operational status. No losses. No damage reported.”
“Good. Loadmaster, get the delivery completed fast. There’s another shipment waiting for us back at base.”
The Mek rotated its head to face the captain. “Shuttle loading is almost complete, Captain. The medications will be on the main dome’s landing pad in approximately one hour.”
First Officer Rita Filata’s voice sounded weary and full of irony. “You know, I thought a career in space would be exciting. Exploring the void, visiting new worlds, and stuff. But I ended up being assistant driver in the most expensive cargo truck ever invented.”
Green chuckled. “Yeah, it’s mundane. Until something goes wrong. Then it’ll get exciting. Isn’t that true, Loadmaster?”
The Mek replied, “As the First Officer said. For information, the shuttle is loaded and about to separate.”
Green gazed at the main screen displaying the red dust surface below. In the night-shadow, it resembled blood. Standing proud of the flat, arid plane was the planet’s single city, an interconnected huddle of domes, their illumination visible on his screens. Ten habitat constructions huddled around the larger administration building. A wind stirred the crushed rock particles forming a series of short-lived, glistening swirls that popped up here and there as far as the distant mountain chain.
Who in all humanity would want to live on a planet that offered an even more uninhabitable environment than Mars?
The expansion of colonies on Earth’s nearest arid sphere stalled once the spinships came into service. It seemed everyone wanted to get as far from the Earth as possible. The planet’s continued descent into global plague-ridden anarchy, made worse by devastating climate change and as-yet limited nuclear wars gave justification to that urge.
Green was so very grateful that the NACE section of the orbital city, his base, his home, the place he grew up in, was literally far above the disasters engulfing the home world of humankind.
However, he was impressed by the innovative use of the new biocrystals. Gathering chemicals from the poisonous atmosphere blowing over them, the crystals replicated, multiplying along pre-programed architectural configurations to form the city’s domes. Self-constructing buildings that sealed in the breathable atmosphere while constantly self-healing against external corrosion. The SciTech corps were working wonders with those amazing things.
The captain spoke briefly with Colony Administrator Julia Kalin, who thanked the crew for their support. The conversation was polite and inconsequential. There was little to say. Colonies equipped with portals kept updated via DarkSpace feeds. The delivery was routine. Meks in the domes and on the ship communicated with each other directly regarding the shuttle’s descent.
“Shuttle on final approach for the first delivery, Captain.” Loadmaster announced.
