Transformation Protocol

by David M. Kelly

  "Unbelievable, yet so simple," Logan said. "They Jump between different stars and give you an interstellar messaging system."

  "The selected Casimir generator is small. By my calculations, it can make a Jump about every two hours. Not perfect and far from instantaneous."

  "But communication time would be cut dramatically." McDole raised an eyebrow. "That's very impressive."

  "Why use standard components?" Logan said. "A custom design would give you a greater hold on the technology."

  I shrugged. "I'm registering a patent on it, but I know the design will be bootlegged almost immediately. Custom design would give me greater intellectual property rights, but I want this thing used. And let's face it, neither the PAC"—I looked at McDole—"or the Atolls are very good at recognizing anyone's copyright except their own."

  I triggered the transmission and an acknowledgment appeared on screen. "That's it—Project RoboPony is almost official."

  "Would this support encrypted channels?" Logan pointed at the screen.

  "The Jump kills quantum entanglement, so you'd have to use classical encryption methods, but those are all vulnerable. Anyway... maybe we need more openness. There's been too much deception."

  "There may be ways." McDole furrowed her brow. "Sorry, I tend to think of things from a military perspective. It's a remarkable idea, and I'd feel a lot more confident on our current journey if we had them in place now."

  The transmission status changed to completed, and I felt a small sense of achievement. "I wish I could offer a toast, but coffee is the strongest drink we have."

  I made my excuses and headed back to my room. I felt pleased but also strangely despondent. It was something I'd felt before at the end of a project—a relief that it was finished mixed with a sense of "what now?" This time around, the sense of loss seemed greater than normal, and I wanted to be away from people for a while—I wasn't good at faking amiability.

  Sometime later, I heard a knock on the door. McDole was outside, wearing a white patterned kaftan-like garment that was simultaneously floaty and yet seemed to cling to her curves.

  "I came to make good on that dinner invite," she said.

  "I don't recall making one."

  "That's why I thought I should."

  She was partly inside the room, stopping me from closing the door, and I got the impression that she wasn't about to make it easy on me. "Okay, give me a minute. The wardroom is that way." I gestured with my thumb.

  "My cabin would be more comfortable." Her lips curved into a smile. "And I have something prepared."

  I sighed. Sometimes you just have to make it clear. "I'm not interested in company right now."

  "Indulge me."

  *

  McDole had reprogrammed the lighting in her room into something less harsh than the usual efficient-but-clinical setting. It made it more intimate and somehow cozier than usual. McDole brought out two meal packs. They were steaming, indicating that she'd already put them through a heating unit.

  The bed was tucked away, and the table was open with a chair on either side, meaning she'd borrowed one from another cabin. She peeled open the packs, and the room was flooded with the delicious aroma of something spicy. I was certain it wasn't from our stores, and my mouth began watering in an uncontrollable Pavlovian response.

  I examined the mixture of yellowed rice and what looked like chicken. Most Atollers were vegan, so I doubted it was real. There were also small pieces of assorted vegetables and what looked like plump raisins stirred in with the rest.

  "That looks amazing," I said.

  "Wine?" She reached into a drawer and pulled out a plastic bottle.

  I eyed it suspiciously. "Help me out here. Are you planning on drugging me or seducing me?"

  "How about both?" Her voice was low and sensual as she poured two glasses of wine.

  "I've never seen you out of uniform before." I tried to change the subject, feeling a flush reach my ears.

  "Do you think it looks good on me?"

  "You don't need me to tell you that." I tasted the food and almost fell in love. The dish had a heavenly combination of cumin and turmeric, giving it an Eastern flavor.

  "I don't, but it would be nice." She took a bite and washed it down with a sip of wine. "You're rather impressive... for an Earthman."

  "Thanks for the qualification. I think."

  "We're so culturally conditioned to dismiss Earthers. It makes it difficult to see around that to get to the truth."

  I took another mouthful of the delicious food, avoiding the wine. "So, you're all brain-washed by propaganda?"

  McDole laughed. "You might see it that way. I think it's more that a culture finds certain things acceptable and society tends to reinforce those ideas. We don't undergo mass indoctrination sessions."

  "Okay, so it's only unconscious bias?"

  "Stop trying so hard to be unpleasant, Joe." She leaned forward. "We're friends, aren't we? I'm pointing out that all cultures have ways of looking at things that aren't always rational."

  "True—but Atoll biases kill Earth people."

  She pulled back, her face hardening momentarily. "Would Earth hold back from doing the same in reverse if they had the opportunity? I seem to recall you attacked the Bethe..."

  "That's a strangely selective memory. We defended ourselves when the Bethe tried to illegally board a USP vessel."

  McDole's face softened. "Let's not fight. Mistakes have been made on both sides, haven't they?"

  It was true, and it was impossible to assign blame. The Atolls had dominated and embargoed Earth for decades, but they'd not left the planet without reason. "This trip is too long to make enemies, but I'll never stop fighting for a fair chance for all humans."

  She lifted her glass in a toast. "I know that, Joe. And that's another thing I like about you. When you say all humans, I know you mean it. There's a way you could do more, though."

  I finished my food and put my fork down. "How's that?"

  "Join us. Help push for that inside Atoll society. Show us how we're wrong to hate and fear Earthers—isn't that what you want?"

  I laughed. "That would be a great suggestion, if Atolls allowed scroffers to become citizens, but they haven't for almost a hundred years."

  "That's true..." McDole leaned close again. "Unless you conjoin with a citizen."

  Her breath was warm against my face. "You're asking me to marry you?"

  "Why not? It's happened before."

  But not for several decades that I knew of. "You're forgetting, I'm already married."

  She shook her head. "Atolls recognize all forms of cohabitation, including polygamy. We're not as narrow-minded as Earthers."

  "That's very flattering but—"

  "And your marriage has ended, has it not?"

  She moved over to me, leaning in close. Her eyes were dark and alive. Her gaze locked with mine and our lips brushed, the touch sending electricity through my skin. My hands instinctively slid around her waist.

  "We could be good together," McDole murmured, her lips hungry, seeking my own. "Don't you see—we could do good things together."

  I felt myself respond and kissed her back, my arms sliding around her and pulling her against me. For a few moments, I felt I could stay wrapped up in the kiss forever—the way I'd always felt I could with Dollie. But with that, the feeling vanished like a wisp of air fluttering away in the vacuum of space.

  I tried not to let it show, but McDole pulled back, a sad expression on her face.

  "Sorry, Joe. I thought..." Her words faded and she tried again. "I'd hoped that maybe you—"

  I pressed a finger against her lips. "I'm the one who needs to be sorry."

  I headed back to my quarters, confusion running around my head like a particle stream in an accelerator. McDole was an attractive woman, and I enjoyed her company. But despite all that, I was still tied to the past—trapped in the ridiculous delusion that I could somehow persuade Dollie to come back to me. I hated myself f
or refusing McDole's advances, and at the same time hated Dollie for pushing me out of her life.

  I told myself it was better to forget about all that type of thing, that I was better off without those complications in my life. But I wasn't sure I could convince anyone, let alone myself.

  Pulling my thoughts back to safer ground, I reviewed the plans for tomorrow. We'd be far enough from Mars' gravity well to risk the first Jump, and my pulse raced. I'd imagined traveling to new star systems since I was a boy and never believed it would ever be real. But here we were, ready to make our first Jump. A chance to see other worlds with our own eyes. I let the idea fill me with excitement, pushing all the emotional confusion away.

  Almost.

  Chapter Twelve

  By midday the following day, we were in a position to make the Jump to Sirius, which at nine light-years was close to our theoretical maximum. I wished we'd had enough time to put together some of my RoboPony relays. It would have been reassuring to leave a communication chain behind us to keep us in touch with what was happening on Earth. But we had our orders.

  The last piece of interesting news was coverage of a meeting between Porter Seckinger and Fan Hua Song, the PAC Minister for Deep Space Development. The broadcast was my twisted idea of entertainment while I ate lunch in the wardroom. Seckinger was his usual toadsome self, but Song kept her cards well hidden, despite her outwardly enthusiastic manner. Whatever their politics and personalities, they were both selling the All-Parties Conference like it was the first squirt from the fountain of youth.

  "We have communicated with the various governments of Earth, the Archipelago Directorate, and the Corporate Executive, and we have agreed on a tentative meeting to discuss strategic development of deep space." Song spoke with her usual measured tone. "This will take place in August at Lunar Free State and will provide an opportunity to determine best practices for all peoples to effectively use the new resources we now have access to."

  Seckinger stepped forward and put his arm around Song's shoulders. He dominated her by several inches and gave her an overly familiar squeeze that made her wince. "Thank you, Minister Song. The USP looks forward to meeting with everyone and laying the groundwork for peaceful co-existence as we move into the future."

  "Those assholes."

  I looked around to see Grant. He must have slipped in while I was eating. He sat a few tables away, which struck me as a little unfriendly, but the tough-as-steel corporal didn't seem the most affable of people at the best of times.

  "Don't you believe in avoiding conflict?" I said.

  "War's inevitable. Everyone's after the same shit, and from what I see there ain't a lot of it to go around."

  "You mean habitable planets?" I gathered up my garbage and pushed it into the recycler. "We'll find them eventually."

  "You may be right." Grant chewed on his sandwich. "But no one wants to share. It's all words. You'll see."

  I looked back at the screen. Seckinger was shaking hands vigorously with the diminutive Song, who looked as though she was expecting her arm to fall off any minute. Behind them, slightly out of focus, was the hulking figure of General Mkandla. She looked happy with the proceedings, but her t-shirt had the saying "All I need is some quiet time" over the image of a silenced pistol.

  "I'm hoping sense will prevail."

  "Didn't realize you were an optimist." He took another bite. "You and Giotto been spending time together. Something I should know there?"

  I'd done several sessions with BRUCE, and she'd come along to make sure I didn't get hurt again, or maybe she was making sure I didn't mess around with the robot's programming. It was entirely innocent and even if it wasn't, it was none of his business. But I got the feeling it was more than idle curiosity. "She's helping me with an exercise routine."

  Grant raised his eyebrows. "That what they call it these days?"

  "I'm not sure it's any of your concern, but that's all it is." My fingers clenched. "If that isn't enough, feel free to check with her."

  "She's part of the team." Grant leaned back, his chair creaking under the weight of all that Geneered muscle. "I don't like it when my people get messed up. By anyone."

  And I didn't like threats, no matter how veiled. But we had a long time together ahead of us, so I swallowed my anger. Without saying anything else, I headed for the control room. It was empty, and I was glad to have some time to let my temper cool. Grant's attitude was as welcome as leeches on a hemophiliac, especially on a journey like this. It reminded me why I hated having anything to do with the military.

  As the ship approached our planned Jump point, Logan and Aurore came in and strapped themselves into their seats. I'd suggested everyone be secured for the Jump, remembering how disconcerting it had been the first time I'd experienced it. From what I'd read, the nausea we'd experienced heading back to Earth was due to the fact that we were Jumping into a gravity well from a position where space-time curvature was flatter. Theoretically, our distance from any large mass, plus the fact that we were Jumping to the outer regions of the Sirius system, would limit any bad effects, but I wasn't taking any chances.

  "Everything okay, Joe?" said Logan.

  "We're on track."

  "Not what I meant." He was staring at me. "You're on edge."

  I cursed silently. Logan always seemed to look inside me and see what was going on. "Private matter—tell you later."

  "I'll remind you."

  A message flashed up, indicating we were at the safe Jump point, and I looked over at Logan. "Your call, Captain."

  He grimaced at the title. "When you're ready."

  I was about to broadcast a warning when Hernandez hurried in. He shrugged apologetically. "I felt I should be here, even though there's nothing for me to do."

  "There still won't be any green-skinned dancing girls." I pointed to a spare seat. "But pull up a log."

  As he fastened himself in, I opened a comm channel. "All hands. Secure for Jump in two minutes."

  Logan brought up a front view and piped it throughout the ship. The on-screen counter ticked down. At thirty seconds, I engaged the Jump sequence and let the system follow its programmed directions. There was no turning back now.

  "Hang on to your hats, everybody," I called.

  The counter hit one, and the Jump drive power readouts shot to maximum. My stomach did flip-flops as though I was going to vomit, and I wasn't sure if that was the effect of the drive or adrenaline. The main screen dissolved into a chaotic polychromatic swirl of patterns, and I had to look away. Then, almost before the sensation was born, it vanished. I blinked hard, and floating whirls filled my sight as if I'd rubbed my eyes too hard. The effect didn't last long, certainly less time than when I'd last tried this.

  I scanned the display, but the view seemed unchanged. Not too surprising—nine light-years might be a long way in human terms, but astronomically-speaking we'd hardly moved.

  "It didn't work?" Hernandez sounded confused.

  I reached for the controls and turned the ship, bringing the nose around to line up with what the instruments told me was the center of the system. I held my breath as the brilliant light of a bloated star drifted onto the screen, the display automatically adjusting to prevent glare. Then, as the sun centered, a second much smaller one appeared, nestled onto the glow of the first.

  "That's beautiful," whispered Aurore.

  I nodded in agreement. "We made it alright."

  Sirius was bigger and hotter than our sun, and its blue-white light was visible even with the image filtering. For all its glory, though, the system itself was sparse from a human perspective. There was one planet close into the main star, named "Tabor" by Atoll scientists, but it was almost as uninhabitable as Mercury. If I remembered correctly, the surface temperature averaged over a hundred and seventy degrees Celsius—a sun worshipper's paradise, for maybe ten seconds.

  The proximity of the white dwarf companion made other planetary formations impossible, leaving a number of small planeto
ids and an extensive asteroid belt at a considerable distance from the two stars. It was one of the first star systems visited but only because it was relatively close to our own. Geller Station was nothing more than a scientific and resupply base—other than the potential for asteroid mining, the system had little of interest.

  I checked our local coordinates. "We're about a hundred-million kilometers from the station. Comms lag is eleven minutes round-trip. Hang on, though." The power reserves were at thirty-five percent. "Looks like we have enough juice to get closer."

  "What about the one A.U. limit.?" said Aurore.

  "We'd be well outside that distance from Sirius. Presumably the station is small enough not to have to worry about it so much."

  Logan rubbed his chin, his eyes fixed on the screen. "How about shooting for ten-million klicks?"

  I fed the numbers into the navigation system. It was close energy-wise but looked possible. "I think we're okay." I started programming the Jump into the system.

  "What do you think?" Logan looked over at Aurore.

  She was running the numbers, making sure I hadn't missed anything. "Looks okay, but it would be safer to go in on the regular drive."

  Logan mulled it over for several minutes. "Okay. Go ahead, Joe. Try not to drop us inside a star."

  I broadcast another warning and executed the Jump. There was a moment of discomfort but nothing compared to the big Jump. Once the room stopped spinning, I rechecked the distance to Geller.

  "We're eight-million kilometers away from the station. Comms lag about thirty seconds."

  "Thanks." Logan straightened his shirt. "I guess I better do this."

  I set up a transmission and nodded to him.

  "Geller Station. This is Captain Twofeathers of the USN Shokasta. We're on a search-and-rescue mission, investigating the late arrival of the USN Sacagawea. We have several people onboard including ADF Commander McDole and would like to rendezvous with your station. Please advise on your approach requirements."