Restoration

by Daniel C McWhorter

  Ryan counted down the last ten seconds. When the count reached zero, Ryan called out “Ignition!,” and the craft accelerated at nearly thirty times the force of Earth’s gravity. Within seconds the craft had climbed the 500 kilometers of space between it and the cargo container's orbit. If Ryan’s calculations were correct, the ship would be five kilometers in front of the cargo container and traveling at roughly the same speed. A few more seconds went by before Ryan killed the Hellfires and confirmed his trajectory.

  “We are right on target. The container is five clicks behind us but we’re a little fast. Engaging reverse thrust now.”

  Ryan directed the thrust from the Hellfires toward the front of the ship which was the space equivalent of “tapping the brakes,”

  “That did it. Everyone into position. The container is closing at thirty meters per second. I’ll drop that to ten when it gets within a kilometer and we will shoot for zero at fifty meters.”

  Luanne released the restraints on her acceleration pod. “Okay team, we’re up. Ryan did his part now it’s up to us.”

  The team members took their places in the cargo bay, with Luanne and Sam standing on either side of the ramp.

  “Blowing the bay now,” Jaime said as he activated the sequence to evacuate the cargo bay’s atmosphere into space. It took less than thirty seconds to go from one Earth atmosphere to vacuum.

  “Opening ramp,”

  Jaime disengaged the clamps holding the ramp closed, and it swung slowly open, giving Luanne and Sam an amazing view of space and the lunar surface below.

  “Redstar 22 is changing orbit,” Ryan called over TacNet. “The container is two clicks out.”

  All six Alpha team members watched intently as the tiny silver dot behind them grew ever larger.

  “Five hundred meters,” Ryan called.

  Also a formality since everyone was watching the relative velocities and distance of both objects on their holodisplays but verbal call-outs and acknowledgment were still deeply ingrained habits for the highly trained soldiers.

  “I've got comms,” Luanne called. “Bravo One this Alpha One, it’s great to see you.”

  “Alpha One, Bravo One. We are looking forward to being out of this box, Lu. Try not to break it, will you? We’re not wearing suits.”

  “Roger that, Bravo One.”

  Luanne disconnected the safety harness that held her in place.

  “Let’s do this, Sam,” she said as she pushed herself out into space.

  Sam grabbed the other tether cable and followed her out the back of the transport.

  “Fifty meters,” Ryan called out, “relative velocity is zero.”

  “Roger,” Sam replied.

  Sam and Luanne closed the remaining distance to the cargo container and attached their tether cables to the container.

  “Tethers locked, reel us in, Marcia,” Luanne ordered.

  Marcia engaged the electric motors connected to the tethers. When the container was within ten meters, an articulating arm swung down from the roof of the cargo bay and extended out the back of the ship. Tad waited until the container was within three meters of the cargo ramp before clamping the arm's claw down on the container.

  “Container is locked,” he notified the team.

  “Retracting,” Marcia replied.

  Luanne and Sam floated with the container as the arm pulled it into the cargo bay. Marcia engaged a set of locking clamps that came up from the cargo bay floor to secure the container in place.

  “It's locked in,” she said

  Five minutes later, they had re-pressurized the cargo bay and everyone was safely on board.

  “Welcome back,” Luanne said as the Bravo team members exited the container.

  “Thanks, glad to be back,” the Bravo team leader acknowledged.

  “You know there will be hell to pay, right?,” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, those bastards were ahead of us every step of the way,” Luanne said.

  “I hate to say it but I don’t think we ever had a chance,” Jaime added

  “It sure didn't seem like it. The brass is going to be looking at this one for quite some time, I think,” Sam replied.

  Luanne laughed. “I’m sure they will. Take us home, Ryan.”

  “Aye, aye skipper,” Ryan called back from the flight deck.

  CHAPTER 22

  APRIL 5, 2075 7:30 AM GST

  GSSA Headquarters

  Zurich, Switzerland

  Aubrey woke to the sound of her cell door hissing open and a guard bringing her a tray containing an assortment of small cartons she assumed was breakfast.

  “Good morning,” the guard said curtly as he set the tray down on the small table. “I will be back with your lunch around noon and they scheduled your hearing for three. Your lawyer will call you before the hearing to brief you on the procedures. If you need anything else between now and then just ask and we will see what we can do.”

  Aubrey sat up in bed and wiped the sleep from her eyes. “Thank you, I am good for now.”

  The guarded nodded and exited the room, the door hissing shut behind him.

  Aubrey forced herself from bed and meandered over to the table to examined the tray’s contents.

  “Let’s see what we have here,” she said out loud as she picked up the largest of the three containers on the tray. “Eggs, ham, onion potato bake and a slice of bread with jam. That sounds good, I wonder if it's real food?

  “Probably not,” she said as she moved on to the remaining cartons. “Hmm, milk and coffee. That’s a nice touch.” Until now they had only given her water to drink.

  Aubrey set the cartons back on the tray and turned her attention to the sink and toilet. She had been reticent to use the toilet since she was likely being watched and its location in the room afforded zero privacy but the discomfort in her bladder convinced her that modesty was no longer her most immediate priority.

  She took her time with her morning routine and did her best to make herself presentable with the limited selection of hygiene products arrayed on the sink counter. Once she was satisfied with her hair, she turned her attention back to the breakfast tray.

  To her surprise, everything was still warm and tasted like real food, which meant that she was receiving first-class treatment. Since the last global food crisis, the majority of food produced planet-wide was grown in a lab rather than on a farm or in a field. A handful of mega-corporations controlled the food supply and Telogene was among the largest.

  Aubrey was proud that Telogene’s animal protein and vegetable products were the safest (and some said best tasting) on the planet but for all their technology they still couldn’t make meat grown in a vat taste like that of free-range, farm-raised animals. The meat of a living, breathing creature developed textures and flavors that just weren’t possible in a lab. The same was true of fruit and vegetables grown the traditional way, namely over a period of weeks or months in a field or greenhouse rather than the few days it took to go from seed to harvest in the lab.

  Several years ago, Lily had asked her lead botanist to come up with a solution to the quality problem some years ago but what she got back was a report with lots of numbers and data but no solution. In the report’s conclusion, the team had written a single sentence: There is no substitute for natural development for producing high-quality meat, fruit and vegetables.

  And that was that. The old maxim of “you can have fast, cheap or high quality but not all three” still held true, and as much as Aubrey would have liked to prove the naysayers wrong, feeding the planet’s billions required companies like hers to produce as much food as possible quickly and inexpensively. That meant that quality was often relegated to a distant third priority.

  Of course, those with enough money could still enjoy the taste of naturally grown food, but the costs had become so extreme over the past decade that only the wealthiest of the wealthy could afford to eat natural food regularly.

  This meal is probably worth more than most people
earn in a week, Aubrey mused as she wolfed down the last of her eggs and coffee.

  Being wealthy all her life, Aubrey had never thought about the privileges her wealth afforded her—until now.

  It’s amazing how often we fail to appreciate things until they're gone.

  A short time later, the guard came back to recover the tray and used containers.

  “Did you enjoy your breakfast?” he asked as he cleaned up after her.

  “I did. It was superb, thank you.”

  “Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Secretary Merkel asked me to remind you that you are entitled to far less, and that this is the last time she will extend you any courtesy if you do not give her what she wants. She said you’d understand.”

  “I do and please tell the Secretary that, as before, I sincerely appreciate her goodwill but I have nothing more I can offer her.

  “As you say,” the guard grunted. “I will be back with your lunch in a few hours.”

  Aubrey sat at the table a few minutes longer before deciding she preferred the bed.

  “Well, nothing left to do now but wait,” she said for the benefit of her unseen observers.

  She spent the next several hours pondering her choices over the past year and wondering if there was anything she could—or would—have done differently given the chance. She went over each scenario again and again in her mind but finally decided that she had done all she could and now her only choice was to face the consequences of her actions.

  Although reviving Evan on Mars would have saved her (and everyone else) from the possibility of being arrested immediately, as a GFN citizen she’d still be a wanted criminal; and the risks of an off-Earth resuscitation were too great. Growing a human body was possible on Mars but the weak gravity caused abnormal cellular growth that was extremely difficult to mitigate. Even children conceived naturally on Mars were born with very different bone and muscle structures than Earth-born children.

  Mars-born children were taller, thinner and weaker than their Earth-born counterparts but their brain mass was about ten percent greater on average. Weak gravity explained the height and muscle mass differences but nobody could explain why the Mars-born children had enlarged brains and skulls. Some scientists theorized that it was evolution and natural selection at work since most of the early Mars colonists were brilliant scientists and engineers who had passed on their capacity for genius to their children.

  What Aubrey found most perplexing though was that most clones grown on Mars developed enlarged craniums with increased brain mass regardless of their source genetic material. It was almost as if low gravity triggered something buried deep in the human genetic code. The scientists could see that certain genes were expressing themselves differently in the Martian environment but a reasonable explanation had eluded them.

  Years ago, one of Telogene’s top geneticists had, to the great dismay of the scientific community at large, theorized that the human genome contains remnants from some long-lost space-faring civilization and that the Martian environment must closely resemble the conditions of their home world. That geneticist, Doctor Dalena Kamdar, had done a reasonable job of making her case but she failed to prove her hypothesis to the satisfaction of her peers and the scientific community at large.

  It took dozens of interviews and months of marketing to quash the rumors and convince the public that the company didn’t really believe humans descended from aliens. In the end, Dalena was discredited and Lily had no choice but to end her employment at Telogene.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. Not long after the first engramic transfer was performed on Earth, a team of scientists on Mars tried to transfer engrams from people born on Earth into Martian-grown clones. Every attempt resulted in the test subject going insane within days (or at most weeks) of regaining consciousness. No matter how much training, conditioning and socialization the subjects received, the outcome was always the same—their brains simply could not accept the signals their bodies were sending them as reality.

  Some researchers believed the test subjects would adapt to their new environment given enough time, but they halted the experiment when one of them stole an emergency escape pod and shot himself into space. Thankfully, a freighter picked him up before the pod ran out air and he, along with the rest of the surviving clones, were returned to Earth a few weeks later. Most of them acclimated well enough, but a few became dangerous to themselves or others and had to be terminated.

  There had been hell to pay for that! Aubrey recalled.

  That was an understatement. The GFN General Assembly had listed Telogene’s failed experiments on Mars among the most egregious abuses of cloning technology when it passed the Human Dignity and Decency Act. Those failed experiments, along with her desire to save the company, were what motivated Lily Harris to speak out against full-body replacements and restoring deceased people to life.

  Her speech to the General Assembly also cited the negative impact of cloning on the global food supply but it was Telogene’s experimental cloning of people that kept her up at night. Giving the order to terminate one of the Martian clones was one of the hardest things she ever had to do and she swore to never have to make that decision again. A promise Aubrey had willingly supported until now.

  No, there was no other way to guarantee success…he had to be restored here. We…I…did the right thing. Now it’s up to Papa and Chen to prove that to the world. If they fail, then what happens to me will not matter.

  Content with her choices, Aubrey resolved herself to staring at the walls and ceiling of her tiny cell until it was time for whatever came next.

  CHAPTER 23

  APRIL 5, 2075 10:47 AM GST

  GSSA Headquarters

  Zurich, Switzerland

  “Madame Secretary?” Christian called through the doorway separating his office from Dianne Merkel’s.

  “What is it?”

  “Captain Bachmann is here to see you.”

  “Give me five minutes then send him in.”

  Dianne Merkel had finally managed to get a few hours of sleep but the effects of being awake for two days straight were still visible on her drawn and tired-looking face. She went into her private bathroom to touch up her makeup and make herself appear as well-rested and ready to do battle as possible.

  The facial cream she applied contained nanites that would smooth out the wrinkles, even out her color and give her skin the subtle, healthy glow of someone who spent more time at the beach than stuck in an office. The effect would usually last for a few days but stress and lack of sleep were causing her to have to apply it more frequently.

  Dianne stared at herself in the mirror as the unseen army of microscopic robots went to work. Within a minute she saw the effects as her worry lines softened, her cheeks puffed and reddened slightly and her lips went from being drawn, dry and stiff to plump, moist and supple. Satisfied, she patted her face with a dry towel to remove any excess cream and returned to her office.

  Once ensconced behind her large desk, she signaled Christian to send in the GFN officer.

  “Good morning, Madame Secretary,” Captain Heinrich Bachmann said as he entered the room. “Thank you for seeing me in person.”

  “Have a seat, Captain.” Dianne pointed at one of the overstuffed leather chairs opposite her. “There is nothing good about this morning.”

  The Captain settled into the chair, trying his best to not look like a scolded child—even though that’s exactly how he felt.

  “First, let me apologize for losing the fugitives. Gbadamosi caught us completely unprepared.”

  Dianne scoffed, “That’s an understatement.”

  “However,” the Captain continued, “I must inform you that I have lodged a formal complaint with Command and have requested a full review of your use of GSSA Directive Seven to override my authority.”

  “I assumed as much, Captain. Is this what you wanted to tell me in person?” Dianne leaned forward and clasped her hands on the desk. “Please tell me i
t’s not.”

  “It is in part but only because we have always worked well together in the past and I am hoping that we can work together now to ease this situation.”

  The Captain leaned forward, clasping his hands on the edge of Dianne’s desk-mirroring her pose almost exactly.

  “You know that you overstepped and had no legitimate reason to cut me out.”

  “Captain, please.” Dianne unclasped her hands and reclined back into her chair. “That is your opinion, and I obviously felt differently. Debating the point now is a waste of time.”

  The Captain continued unfazed. “But I know that losing them in Xi’an upset you and, given the nature of this event, Command will probably do little more than give you a slap on the wrist.”

  “Well, we have that view in common then. So, what? Get to your point.”

  The Captain reclined back in his chair. “My point, Madame Secretary, is that we cannot afford to spend time battling each other when the real enemy is still out there somewhere.”

  Dianne crossed her arms. “Go on.”

  “I want to help you get these guys but I can’t do it if you don’t trust me, and, quite frankly, you need my help.”

  “And exactly how is that? You haven’t been especially helpful thus far. In fact, I would say you have been exactly the opposite of helpful since you lost them not once but twice in the last twenty-four hours!”

  “Yes, I agree that was unfortunate, but that was before we knew what we were up against. Now that I know this involves Gbadamosi, I will handle things quite different going forward, I assure you.”

  “So, what do you propose, Captain?” Dianne uncrossed her arms and leaned slightly forward in her chair. “Clearly you have something you want me to hear so just spit it out.”

  “I believe I know what they are planning, and I have a pretty good idea why they brought Feldman back.”

  “Okay, I’ll play along. Let’s hear it.”