Transformation Protocol

by David M. Kelly

  I stepped clear of the airlock and closed the inner hatch behind me. The atmosphere indicator clicked down to zero and the light came on, indicating the outer door had opened. Despite what I'd said, I almost regretted it. Gabriella might have been a psychopath and as unstable as a pocketful of quarks, but I'd been a boy scout for a long time.

  The light on the airlock changed. The outer door had closed again, and the atmospheric cycling had activated. Somebody was coming in, and a very small part of me hoped Gabriella had changed her mind. When the cycle finished, I opened the door to see the diminutive space-suited figure. She turned, and I spotted the name badge.

  I reached out and took her helmet as she unzipped her suit. "Aurore? What brings you up here?"

  "Just checking you slabs of meat haven't screwed up my project."

  I did a double-take."Yours? You designed the upgrades?"

  "Not all of them." Aurore grinned. "It was a family effort."

  I winced. Family wasn't a word that sat well with me.

  Aurore reached out and put her hand in mine. "Sorry, Joe. That's probably a sore spot right now."

  I shrugged. Sore or not, it wasn't about to change, so I had to get used to it. "You guys did a great job. I'd take my hat off to you if I had one."

  Aurore grinned, her chiseled ebony cheeks blossoming. "That's high praise coming from you."

  "Credit where it's due. That was a lot of work to make everything fit together."

  She slipped through the inner door and stowed her gear in the suit locker. "Tell me that after we test it."

  Her "we" had a decisiveness about it. "You're coming with us?"

  Aurore grinned. "You think I'd let that big Indian out of my sight?"

  Her possessiveness reminded me of Dollie's insistence on staying with me on the last trip, and I couldn't help but remember its tragic outcome. I hoped for both their sakes that history wouldn't repeat.

  She followed me to the wardroom, and I ducked into the locker to grab some food packs, the energy bar having failed in its mission. When I came out, my saliva glands went into overdrive, and it was nothing to do with what I was carrying. Logan was standing next to Aurore holding a large VacSack with steam rising out of the open top. As I followed my nose, he pulled a giant slice of pizza from the sack and handed it to Aurore.

  "If that's pepperoni, I'll kiss you," I said, forgetting the food packs.

  "You'll have to settle for a fake meat-feast." Logan grabbed another slice and lofted it in my direction, giving the plate a slow spin to stabilize it.

  "I've heard about you lonely space bums," Aurore said. "Forget the kissing. That's my prerogative."

  I caught the plate and slipped into a chair in one movement.

  "The work records showed you've been busy. I thought you might enjoy something more substantial than space rations." He sat next to Aurore, opposite me. "Plus, I have to maintain my reputation as the great hunter for my lady here."

  "Don't worry, your reputation is safe," Aurore said, in-between mouthfuls. "For now, anyway."

  "What do you think of the modifications?" Logan demolished his pizza slice and reached for another.

  "The design is brilliant. I was congratulating Aurore as she came in. I understand the credit is shared."

  "Seventy-thirty," Aurore said, digging Logan in the ribs with her elbow.

  "To me." Logan took another bite.

  Aurore pulled back in mock insult. "You wish."

  "Sixty-forty?" Logan added another slice to her plate.

  "Do you remember why I agreed to marry him, Joe?"

  "No way. Leave me out of this. I'm lining up for more pizza."

  "Fifty-fifty," Aurore said. "Take it or leave it."

  Logan laughed, his bellows echoing around the room. "Who cares about the credit? As long as you're one hundred percent mine."

  I accepted another slice and folded it along the middle, sliding out of my seat and drifting over to the large display screen on the next table. I'd set it up for ZHexChess tournaments on our previous journey. Now, I used it to pull up the work schedule and checked the progress on the refits. I also needed to escape Logan and Aurore's casual intimacy. It struck too close to home for comfort.

  "Will we make it, Joe?" Logan called out.

  I analyzed the patterns. The tank fitting was slightly ahead of schedule. The installation of the CASTOR system had slowed, and we'd not started work on the main plumbing and control system yet. "Fourteen hours until we're ready to test."

  "Then we're gonna be launching without testing. The guys with the shiny shoulder decorations want us out of here in eight."

  "You know launching early won't make any difference to our search?" I looked back at him.

  "Sure." He shrugged. "But the brass always confuses start and finish times. Besides, you can bet your next paycheck that the PAC, Atolls, and Corporates will all be out there looking for answers too. You know how it goes."

  I knew all too well. My earlier assessment of our status as guinea pigs was looking truer than I'd thought. And if that wasn't enough, it seemed we were also in danger of getting caught in a cross-fire from mutually antagonistic forces.

  *

  A second long stint outside the Shokasta ended with the CASTOR systems in place. They weren't functional, but at least we were at a point where we could use the main drive system and make our departure. I hadn't mentioned Gabriella's visit and wasn't sure if I should. She'd only been on the ship briefly, but I knew Logan would be upset. And the longer I held out on him, the worse I felt.

  And then there was what she'd said. A transformation protocol. What did that mean? It was a common enough idea in project management. Any change in operation should have a set of defined steps to take you from A to B. But I didn't think she'd used it that way.

  "SecOps doesn't know what to believe," Logan said as we finished the pre-flight checks ready to move us away from the High-Rig. "With everyone scrambling to plant their flag on anything within reach, it could be hostile action by one of the other Earth-states, the Atolls, or the Corporates."

  "That's not the wildest idea though, is it?" said Aurore from the science terminal.

  Logan shook his head but said nothing.

  "Come on, give me the worst." I signaled traffic control to update our launch status and received a hold signal in return. "Nothing you can tell me would lower my opinion of the military and political circles."

  "The Sacagawea was following a route taking it to star systems located between Sol and known U'gan space," Aurore said.

  "They think the U'gani are attacking us?" The distances involved were so large even thinking about it was preposterous. Their nearest known world was three-hundred light-years away. Even with our farthest explorations, we'd barely made a scratch on that distance. And according to the Ananta's data, the U'gani were far ahead of us technologically. I imagined they could wipe us out as easily as we would destroy a termite colony. "Has anyone made contact with them yet?"

  "Not that I know of." Logan switched over the power system so that Shokasta was running independently from the station. "But everybody is holding their cards close to their chests. I think SecOps tried sending a remote probe and failed. What little I've seen suggests the PAC tried the same thing. Who knows about the others. Best guess—probably."

  I checked the readouts on the Casimir generators to make sure they were operating correctly and the CASTOR units weren't causing problems. We needed some space around us and some velocity too. One discovery since our first Jump was that the process was affected by space-time curvature. Jumping deep inside a gravity well lowered predictability and accuracy, so the recommendation was to have at least one A.U. of separation from anything like a planet.

  We were waiting on the all-clear from traffic control when a signal from the main airlock sounded. No one could board because I'd secured the entrance in preparation for departure, but there was someone in the docking tube that connected us to the High-Rig. I triggered the comm screen and
saw a uniformed SecOps man at the airlock.

  "Mr. Ballen? I'm Sergeant Hernandez. I've been ordered to join you with my squad."

  Hernandez was bulky enough to tag him as Geneered, and behind him I saw the blurred shapes of several other uniforms.

  "You know about this?" I looked at Logan.

  "I thought they didn't want to risk anyone else." He tapped a message into his wrist-com. Barely a minute later, it beeped in response. "They're for real."

  I wasn't thrilled with the idea but didn't argue and pressed the controls to unlock the entrance. Given our mission, it might pay to have some grunts with us. "Welcome aboard, Sergeant. We're in the control room. Your people can bunk in any of the unused cabins."

  He nodded, a grin spreading over his face. "Cabins? Sounds better than our usual assignments. Call me Hernandez. Ranks are for officers."

  He signed off and when the airlock closed, I secured it once again.

  "So, what's the story?" I said to Logan. "If I'd known about this, I'd have thought twice about coming."

  "I understand." He gestured at his wrist-com. "But it's not like last time. They're under my command it seems, and we might need them."

  I turned to the control station to continue monitoring progress. The last tanks had been fitted, and the crews were filling them.

  Ten minutes later, Hernandez arrived, looking bigger in person than he had through the comms. There were three others with him—two men and a woman.

  "Mr. Ballen." He nodded and looked across at Logan. "Mr. Twofeathers. Glad to be aboard."

  "I'm Logan." He slid out of his seat and held out his hand. Hernandez hesitated, looking from his hand to Logan's. "Your orders please, sergeant?"

  They were about the same height, but as tall as Logan was, he couldn't shade the soldier. The others with Hernandez were smaller but not by much, apart from the woman who was solid but slender. Hernandez reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out an eFlimsy.

  Logan checked the orders then looked over at me. "Call him Ballen, and this is our science adviser, Aurore Vergari."

  Hernandez partly turned to his squad. "Corporal Grant, Private Sullivan, and Private Giotto."

  Grant was a tall black guy and similarly built to Hernandez. Sullivan was pasty white and shuffled from one foot to another as if he'd stood on an ant nest, while Giotto was olive-skinned and cute but had a tight, deadly look in her eyes. It was the same expression I'd seen in Gabriella—that of a killer.

  Hernandez caught me looking at Giotto and misinterpreted my reaction. "Don't worry, she won't bite so long as you keep your libido in check." He grinned. "Otherwise, she doesn't play nice."

  "I'm married. That is, I—"

  "Remember that, and you won't have any problems," Giotto called out.

  I was going to correct what I'd said but decided it didn't matter. The state of my marriage, or lack of, wasn't any of their business, and I didn't play those kinds of games with people I didn't know. "What's your brief, Sergeant?"

  "Please, call me Hernandez." He glanced at Logan. "I've been ordered to place myself at the disposal of Mr... Logan, that is. And we have the broad direction of ensuring the safety of everyone on the mission."

  "So, you're on nanny duty?" It seemed a little ridiculous to me, but who could fathom the collective military mind.

  Hernandez smiled again. "If you like to think of it that way, feel free. All my team have technical skills, which I understand may be useful on this mission."

  I grunted, somewhat relieved to hear that they might be more than the usual gung-ho gorillas MilSec seemed fond of.

  "We have one operational detail we'd like to take care of." Hernandez looked embarrassed. "We brought a Transponder Launcher. The brass wants it fitted."

  Logan appeared as confused as I was.

  "It launches a signal bead after every Jump that broadcasts an ID signal and timestamp." Hernandez shrugged. "The idea is that we can be tracked if something goes wrong."

  It seemed pretty dumb. A signal bead wouldn't send out a broadcast strong enough to be picked up at interstellar distances, and even if it did, it would take years for the transmission to crawl back to Earth at light speed. "A deadman's breadcrumb trail? Are they that worried I'm going to run off with the Shokasta?" No one said anything. "Okay. Let's add it to the list."

  "I've been advised that they won't clear us for departure until I confirm it's been fitted." Hernandez shrugged. "I guess someone thinks you're valuable, Ballen."

  "More than a cargo ship full of unobtanium." It wasn't me, or anyone onboard, who was valuable. It was the ship itself.

  "You'll need a hand installing it," Logan said.

  "We better get on it. But they can blame someone else for missing that departure time." I turned toward the door.

  "I'm sorry, gentlemen. That's not acceptable." Hernandez rubbed the back of his neck. "One of my people needs to verify the installation."

  I turned back. "Who's the lucky winner of the spacewalk lottery?"

  He pointed at the woman with the assassin's eyes. "Giotto's our tech specialist."

  "Why am I not surprised?" I muttered. "Get suited up. Main airlock in fifteen."

  *

  I was in the last stages of sealing my suit when Giotto marched in, dragging a white plastic box about the size of a large suitcase. She was wearing her own suit, a typical MilSec issue, complete with cumbersome armor plating. "Are you going to be able to do the job wearing that?"

  "Don't worry about it, Ballen." She twisted her helmet on, but her visor was still open. "I'm planning on letting you do the work. I'm along to make sure you don't screw it up."

  She snapped her helmet shut and closed the protective screen so her face was no longer visible.

  "Great," I muttered and closed my own helmet. The augmented view screen flickered into life, showing me the inside of the airlock and Giotto and adding a data overlay showing status information. I backed into an EMU unit sitting in the rack by the door, and Giotto did the same. My helmet display changed, confirming the EMU was locked and showed the amount of fuel along with predictions of my remaining delta-v budget. I opened a comm channel to the ship.

  "Logan. We're ready for EVA."

  "Okay, releasing airlock controls to you."

  Logan sounded calm, and I tried to mirror that, though the truth was the soldiers had me on edge. I'd had enough military company to last a lifetime and would have been happy to leave the lot of them behind. I thumbed the airlock cycle controls, and the pumps began removing the air. It was noisy initially but grew silent as we got closer to a vacuum. Once complete, the doors slid open.

  We had a view of the High-Rig about five-hundred meters away at the other end of the docking tube, the slab sides of its outer bulkheads bright even with the automatic filtering of my helmet. "Come on. Let's get this done."

  I pushed away from the airlock and let the EMU check my speed while its stabilizing system stopped any spin caused by my exit. Giotto grabbed the transponder case and drifted it through the door, tossing me the safety tether before pushing herself out. It was a cavalier move, but I caught the strap without too much difficulty, feeling the nudge as the line reached maximum and the EMU compensated for the tug.

  "You could have lost the transponder," I called to her over the com channel. "You should have kept hold of it or given me the strap before I came out."

  "Told you—you do the work, I watch." She maneuvered farther away to get a better view of the High-Rig. "It always looks smaller out here."

  Despite her attitude, Giotto's movements demonstrated her experience with ZeeGee. I'd have preferred Logan or Aurore with me, though. Trust was everything in p-suit operations. "Where are we putting this?"

  "You can shove it where—"

  Her broadcast stopped abruptly. I guessed Hernandez was monitoring us and had overridden her transmission. This was confirmed a few minutes later when his voice came over the channel.

  "The directions call for it to be installed nea
r the main accelerators, Ballen." He paused. "There's a built-in detector that will sense the Jump and trigger it to lay an egg."

  "Okay. Will do."

  I turned toward the rear and told the EMU to head to the first of the giant drum-like accelerators. It brought the boost up slowly and then cut off once we were moving at a decent speed. Giotto's attitude didn't bother me, and Hernandez's intervention wasn't needed. I wasn't there to make friends. Giotto followed about twenty meters back, occasionally floating off to take a closer look at parts of the Shokasta. About two-thirds of the way to the accelerator, the comm opened up again.

  "Ballen. This is Giotto. We're on private."

  The indicator on my visor confirmed that. "What now?"

  "This ship is something else. I can see why you don't want to let her go."

  I wasn't sure how to take that. If she meant it as an apology, it was obscure to say the least. But if it was something else, it was lost on me. "Enjoy sightseeing while you can."

  Ten minutes later, we were by the intersection between the reactor hull and the largest of the accelerator coils. The coils themselves had a textured irregular surface, but the underside of the hull was relatively smooth. I moved the box closer but couldn't see a mount, only a decal that said "Front - Toward Space."

  "Does this thing glue on?" I had the usual supplies but had assumed Giotto would take care of the attachment. Though with her attitude, maybe that was supposed to be up to me too. I didn't think adhesive, even astro-stickum, would hold through a Jump. And if I had to go back inside the ship to get some, I might just leave Giotto out there permanently sightseeing.

  Giotto floated over, taking her time, and grabbed the box. After aligning it along the ship's central axis, she thumbed an inconspicuous control, and several stubby legs shot out, apparently pegging the transponder in place. I checked the attachment points. They'd penetrated the outer skin of the hull but only to a controlled depth, I hoped. Otherwise, everyone onboard would be eating high-quality vacuum in short order.

  "It's self-contained," Giotto called over the comm. "The mounts lock under the surface and pump out a nano-adhesive. It's almost impossible to get off without destroying the unit."