The Watchers: A Space Opera Novella

by Ballard, Jeffrey A.

  The Regent speaks in a quiet voice, his words heavy with meaning and inflection. He uses his hands to emphasize his words, to show his passion, but he keeps his head slightly bowed to show his reluctance—a very effective speaker.

  He speaks of the danger to the Regency of such DNA profiling legislation. The disgust of denying people their free will—I think most of us Watchers work to contain a snort at that, thinking of the Directorate currently held against their will. He raises his voice in quiet passion to derail such efforts in Congress, to provide hard evidence of the foolishness of such a motion, that the legislation on Evaga presents a unique opportunity that is within the bounds of the Watchers. He details all of the Atainun tragedy—an entire settlement wiped out from slow suffocation. The brutality caught on all kinds of security feeds—and soon to be leaked for political gain by the proponents of the DNA profiling legislation to generate momentum. He finishes by asking for our support, his arms open to his sides.

  Silence settles over the auditorium, not even small coughs, or people fidgeting can be heard. The air tastes charged to me, palpable with possibilities, the potential for violence swirling in the air, waiting to coalesce.

  Teren, a newly raised Watcher with broad shoulders and of medium height, stands up near the front off to the right. All eyes are upon him. “It is an unusual request you ask of us, Regent. One that might have held more weight with the backing of the Directorate. What have you done with them?” He remains standing.

  “I truly regret the steps taken,” Regent Teife says. “I do not wish to hide anything from you. We asked this first to Watch Director Joslyn—she refused. We approached other members of the Directorate and were met similarly. This is too important to let an old lumbering tradition stand in the way. Nothing we’ve asked of you is in violation to your purpose. Your fellow Watchers are being held on Klast. They are being treated as Royal guests.”

  “That cannot leave,” Teren says.

  The Regent breathes in through his nose. The action straightens his posture at the same time a slight whistle from his nose fills the silence.

  “I will have no part of this,” Teren continues. “I encourage each of you to remember Watch Director Plaiselle. He would not bow to the Regency in the second millennium, and we should not here.” He sits back down.

  The air grows heavier. The two RIU agents on stage glance at each other and the Regent. The plants in the crowd sit forward, ready to leave their chairs.

  Vinita, a female Acolyte, stands. “I believe the Masters are in error in this—”

  The first half-smile for the Regent appears as he finds his first ally.

  “—However—”

  The smile slips.

  “It is intolerable to have Watchers removed from Watch Station against their will. It is against the law. If you will return them, I will Watch Evaga.”

  “And I.” Xiao stands.

  “And I.” Efren stands.

  Regent Teife studies the crowd before responding. “I will agree to return them so long as they are confined to quarters, so as not to make trouble. Agreed?”

  All three shake their heads, yes. At this secession another five stand, including me. I am on team Plaiselle after-all. I’m pretty sure Teren chose our team since Joslyn’s being detained, and she’s till tutoring me, on top of me being her ex-acolyte.

  Watching represents a potent power and a significant advantage. Starting at the Acolyte level, we’re all trained in various counter-takeover scenarios. In the three thousand years we’ve been operating, there have been sixty-three distinct takeover attempts, some more successful than others. So now a small group of us will appear to cooperate and work from the inside, while the rest work to organize, plan and wait from the outside. Strategy dictates that half the Directorate will attempt to return while the other half remain where they are to keep an eye on things.

  One of the first strategic rules of warfare: Get a small force behind enemy lines to feed intelligence while the rest of the force surrounds them.

  ***

  Part of appearing to cooperate is actually cooperating. The officials the Regent appointed to run this operation aren’t stupid. They had read all our profiles and devised a plan to efficiently execute the goals while catering to our strengths. They even asked for input from us after they got done briefing us—a pretty brilliant move actually.

  We couldn’t be sure they were making bad mistakes on purpose to try and see if we would or wouldn’t correct them. So to be safe and protect our cover, we made adjustments that improved the plan. Not just correcting the obvious mistakes, but using years of experience to strengthen the approach. Watching the officials, my guess is that they did put some red herrings in there on purpose but didn’t see seventy-five percent of the problems we pointed out. It was a great first step in establishing trust.

  Now, I lay in the consciousness projector at fifteen hundred hours, the neural patches attached to my skull, breathing evenly to prepare for my first foray into the minds of Evaga. Nerves eat my stomach like before all jumps—focus on breathing. The metal is cold under my forearms as I settle in—focus on the mission.

  My limitations in skimming large groups is well documented and widely known in the community. My assignment therefore is to Watch the hospitals. This will keep it to anywhere from one to eight mothers, or about thirty people total including support staff, at any given hospital in my region.

  The much touted statistic is that less than half of a hundredth of a percent of all births will show the genetic predisposition to commit these atrocities, or one in every twenty thousand births. My objective is to skim along until a test is done that turns up positive and observe everyone in the process. Watch the emotions of all involved, how they handle the mother, how the process affects the administrator, the hospital staff and to note any specific thoughts of mutiny, particularly outside the mother.

  Breathe. A thirty split shouldn’t be bad. Not as bad as splitting among hundreds, Watching for the Unification thought: The thought that will lead to the people of the Ancillary Universe to realize they are not unique, but an offshoot of our Universe. Thousands of years ago, the old Imperium during the Yersemic plague sent humans into another Universe to experiment on, a guaranteed quarantine in effect. They discovered the cure, but the Yersemic plague was already too advanced, the catalyst for the Imperium’s fall.

  The people in the Ancillary Universe were left undiscovered for thousands of years as civilization in the Prime Universe recovered. When they were discovered, the Watch was formed to monitor them. They had been exposed to diseases unique to the Ancillary Universe, diseases that would likely cause an epidemic if they were allowed to return. Plus, these humans, confined to one planet so late in their evolution had turned violent and warlike, competing over limited resources. There is concern that though their military capability was initially inferior, their strategies and cunning surpasses our own. And now their technological level is almost near ours, heightening the worry.

  It’s difficult to skim for the Unification thought. It’s not one thought per say, but a train of thought backed by scientific and mathematical ability and knowledge. It requires both a surface skim and a deeper pass to assess, which is difficult to pull off. The deeper pass is usually what sucks me in, and I have to be pulled back by Joslyn.

  This isn’t my first solo gig, but it is the first without a senior Watcher observing. If there’s trouble, it isn’t likely that the Regency official posted in the room to monitor me will be able to help.

  Official Delphine is an attractive woman, with a hard face that immediately suggests dislike of whatever she happens to be looking at. Her hair is short and black, tucked in behind her ears up off her collar. In a station where everyone is bald by convention and security (who’s a Watcher and who isn’t?), someone with hair stands out. There’s a sheen to it that I find I like.

  She seems to know a little about the consciousness projectors, how to secure a person into it and how to set the l
ocation on the control panel, but not much beyond that—it’s expected the Regency would have intelligence on the projectors and would have even tried running a few of their own. But there’s a secret to them reserved only for the Directorate.

  She flips the switch.

  Slow, steady, breathe in through my nose, controlled exhale out through my mouth. Close my eyes, find peace in the darkness. I am not Emre. I am not a single person. I am neither a man or woman, nor adult or child. I am neither. I am both. I am all.

  I am the Watch.

  Slip.

  CHAPTER THREE

  NEW FLORENCE, nighttime. Saint Thomas Hospital, four birthing mothers. Two have already given birth, tests completed, no positive results. The third, Anjanette, is delivering the placenta. Her child’s test is running. The official is a small man with a cleft chin, Gino, standing at the nurses’ station in the nursery. The test is taking longer than the other two he had done earlier. Sweat starts to form under his arms; he worries dark circles will form and that he’ll smell as a result. He thinks the cute brunette nurse keeps smiling at him. What will he tell the mother? The results: negative. The other mother, Sumiko, a petite woman of Asian descent, is in active labor, expected delivery several hours away. Her husband is held up at work. No drugs, the pain … no, it’s her anticipation that overwhelms. The pain is there, a necessary, even welcome, step. Their first child, a culmination of three years of trying. But where was Karon, her husband?

  New Florence. Northeast Memorial Hospital. One mother, post-operative care, C-section. Test: negative.

  New Florence. Vibra Valley Medical Center. Four mothers. Two in early labor, one in post-operative care, the fourth, Clarissa, pushing. The result of the post-operative care mother’s child: negative. I wait for the test of the child being pushed out: negative.

  Caspen. Caspen Central Memorial Hospital. Five mothers, all in post-operative care. Tests: negative.

  Caspen …

  Over the next three hours, I visit five more cities and forty-one hospitals, medical centers, and birthing centers. Of the one hundred and four newborns that night, none had tested positive so far. The four-hour limit on a session is approaching.

  I check back in with Sumiko at Saint Thomas Hospital. She’s pushing. Single minded focus. Release into her body, don’t work against it, work with it, it is made for this. Listen to the doctor. Relax, breathe through the contractions, don’t clench.

  Karon has arrived. He holds his wife’s hand, standing by her head. He peeked earlier and had to pull out his poker face not to alarm her. His back hurts; he had been on his feet for a three-hour shift before this. He is a squat, solid man, dark muscles forged over a life of labor, but he’s hoping to move to a supervisor role soon. He hasn’t decided yet if he wants to cut the umbilical cord. He can’t wait to see him, his baby boy Branden. For nine months he has wondered how his son would look—

  The child arrives. Blind, cold, terror: stark terror. A bundle of emotions and reflexes. The doctor works quickly, sucking fluid out of Branden’s nose and mouth. Sumiko knows only exhaustive joy, while Karon is filled with awe and responsibility and the Doctor and nurses bustle about with workmanlike focus. Karon with a surprisingly steady hand, given his emotional battle to not let his awe overwhelm him, cuts the cord. The baby is whisked off to the corner of the room to get cleaned up. Sumiko exclaims for Karon to either get out of her line of sight or go stand by him.

  Footprints are recorded, goop is wiped off, blood samples are taken. The brunette-haired nurse, Ela, takes the blood samples spotted onto paper to the nurses’ station. She rips one of the paper dots off and hands it to Gino with a smile. She is partial to men with cleft chins. She prepares and sends the rest of the samples to pathology for early detect. When she returns, Gino is pale and hunched over the table. Test: positive.

  That’s when Ela decides to ask him out, when she sees his compassion. “What are you going to do?” she asks.

  He looks up and gulps. “What we have to. Enter—” He looks at the paperwork. “Branden Vorce into the database. I’ll— I’ll go talk to the parents.”

  “Do you have to do this right away?”

  “Yes, the authorities are already coming. They’re alerted when the test comes back positive. They’ll stay with the baby here at the hospital until he’s safe enough to move.”

  “Bring the guards. Have you ever seen how emotional new parents are?” she asks at his surprised look.

  He nods his head, picks up two guards and walks into the delivery room.

  Sumiko lays blissfully there, learning to breastfeed Branden. All the commotion of the nurses invisible as they clean up; the doctor has already gone, her work done.

  Karon stands with an arm around his wife and his hand on his son’s back. His son. His boy. He latched on strong to the nipple right away. They had been warned that some babies had a hard time learning to feed, but not Branden. His instincts are strong.

  Karon becomes aware of bodies that are still in a room full of movement. He looks up to see a government official with two guards. No, he thinks. It’s not possible. The official looks upset, nervous. There’s only one reason the official could be here. Where are the exits? Can Sumiko move? How much time is there?

  “Mister, Missus Vorce. The test was positive.”

  Karon’s heart drops. He almost throws up.

  Sumiko is unaware, only focused on Branden’s little scrunched face. His eyes are closed, but his little lips keep making the cutest sucking motion. The pressure on the nipple hurts, and she can’t feel any milk leaving. She’s not sure if she should be able to.

  Karon kisses his wife on the forehead, trying hard not to alarm her. He walks over to the official, keeping his hands down at his sides his palms open. Buy time. That’s the objective.

  “Excuse me?” he asks.

  Gino steels himself, and looks him in the eye. The father deserves that much. “The test was positive. I’m sorry.”

  “What— What does that mean?” Karon rubs his face, not believing he is here in this moment. It doesn’t feel real.

  Gino tries to speak several times and fails. He can’t do it looking at the father’s eyes. He isn’t cut out for this job. “He’ll be raised in a special facility, under the care of trained professionals to ensure those tendencies are not encouraged or ignored.”

  The child will be taken from his parents. He’ll be an orphan of the state, an orphan against his parents’ will. The child will never know them; the parents will be forbidden access, the government afraid of upsetting the child.

  “When?” Karon chokes out. Time. He needed time.

  Protocol dictates not backing the parents into a corner. Ela had been right. Gino tries to think of an answer to diffuse the situation. Karon is a large man, his arms like Gino’s thighs.

  A first smile, a first word, a first birthday, all this will be denied to Sumiko and Karon. The loving arms of a mother, the strong bastion of a father—denied. Will the child ever know where he came from? It’s outrageous. His parents want him so much, love him so much. A child should never be separated from their parents.

  “A few hours,” Gino lies.

  He lies, I blurt into Karon’s mind. They’re already coming!

  ADRENALINE. Official unarmed. The left guard’s knee looks weak. The right guard is old, slow. Karon grips his head and lets out an anguished scream.

  Sumiko looks up in time to see Karon unleash a vicious kick to the left guard’s knee. It buckles. Before the guard hits the ground, he slams the official against the wall, into the way of the other guard. The remaining nurses flee the room.

  Sumiko immediately puts it all together. The door leads to the hallway, the hallway leads to the lobby, the lobby to their vehicle. How far can she get in this condition? She surveys the room for supplies. Blankets, diapers, hats, wipes all under the mobile crib. Where are her clothes?

  Karon uses both hands to prevent the right guard tangled with the official from raising his gun. The
two struggle. Karon slams his head into the bridge of the guard’s nose. Blood flows. He disarms the guard and coldcocks him with it.

  Sumiko clutches Branden tenderly as she rushes across to the closet that hold her clothes. No, she needs to put Branden down. She grabs the mobile crib and sets him down. He cries. Where did the warm, rhythmic source go?

  Gino wrestles with Karon. This is only going to make it worse, his wife needs him.

  Karon sweeps out the feet of Gino, catches a hold of Gino’s head and smashes it as hard as he can into the faux wood floor. Crack. Gino never moves again, his consciousness winks out.

  Zap!

  Pain tears through Karon’s left side, below his heart. He falls to the ground.

  The crippled guard had shot. The guard is terrified, he just saw Karon kill the official bare handed. He brings the gun up to fire again. A medical bin flies out and hits him across the jaw. He can taste blood, the warm metallic— Zap. The guard’s consciousness is ripped away.

  The officials coming to take possession of Branden land in the parking complex. There are two of them, both uncertain, nervous. They plan to meet with police on the way. The older one, Harris, thinks it’s a stupid idea to offer the parents another baby as a consolation prize: going first to the head of the adoption list. It’ll go over terribly, he was sure. But, what if they could switch the babies at birth? Would the parents know? Make the switch the first night, when the parents slept? He’d talk it over with Alec when he got back.

  Sumiko, stood, chest heaving, blood running down her leg. “Karon? Baby?”

  “Take— take him. Leave.” Blood bubbled from Karon’s mouth. His left lung, punctured and filling with blood.