Transformation Protocol

by David M. Kelly

  "Same as the last few seasons." I finished my food and dropped my spoon in the bowl. "About as much chance of a MusCat preacher setting up a bordello."

  Dan let out another braying laugh. "Sounds about right. Wanna make a bet on them reaching the playoffs?"

  "I'm not that much of an optimist."

  Grant came in, hesitated when he saw me, then dropped into a chair a few tables away. It seemed I was well and truly off his Christmas list. That didn't bother me as long as we could avoid further confrontation. With his Geneering, I'd have as much chance against him as I'd had with BRUCE.

  "I'll see you later, Dan." I gathered up the debris from my food. "Time for some shut-eye."

  "Sure." Dan's eyes flicked over to Grant almost imperceptibly. "I'm gonna see what I can dig up for dessert."

  Back in my cabin, my thoughts drifted to Dollie, but I dropped off without much delay—something that hadn't happened in a long time.

  I woke with a start. The room was dark and quiet with no indication of what had roused me. I had only the vaguest memory of my dreams so I didn't know if they were responsible, but they often were.

  My earlier discussion with Dan played on my mind. I hoped it meant that his loathing of the Atollers had gone down a notch, although both he and McDole avoided each other like a pair of plague victims. Even his animosity toward me seemed to have faded, so perhaps he'd accepted I wasn't to blame over Charlie. I was starting to drift back to sleep when it hit me.

  How did Dan know I supported the Philadelphia Tigers?

  Chapter Sixteen

  I plotted a route to take us clear of the station the following day. Trent was expecting other ships to arrive, and although he didn't say as much, I got the impression he'd rather we weren't too close when they did. No doubt his orders were strict, and he'd ignored them to share information with us.

  Dan's comment about the Tigers rattled around my head. Someone could have mentioned it, but Earth sports weren't a hot topic onboard, and I doubted it was included in my MilSec file. Logan and Aurore were the only ones who knew, but they hadn't had much to do with Dan as far as I knew. All I could imagine was that he'd looked it up. It was hardly a secret, yet something about him knowing made me uneasy.

  After programming the departure and monitoring progress as the ship came to full acceleration, I made my way to the wardroom to grab something to eat. Dan was there again, chatting with Grant, Giotto, and Sullivan, the conversation louder than usual.

  I sat next to them. "How're things going?"

  Dan smiled, but it seemed a little too forced. "Joe, these ships are fantastic."

  "The Shokasta?"

  "Yeah. The Jump. Sustained acceleration. Cramazing."

  Cramazing—crazy amazing—was a term that had gone out of fashion twenty years before I was born. "They're certainly changing things. I hope it's fast enough."

  "Earth still bad, huh?"

  That was an understatement. The equatorial Zone of Death seemed to expand by the week, and extreme weather events were almost routine. There was already talk about how much longer until a mass uprising sprang up. Eventually people were going to demand what they couldn't have, and that could spell the end of humanity.

  "It's not getting better." I sipped some coffee then took a mouthful of the bacon muffin I'd selected. "We need to get people off the planet wholesale. And soon."

  "What's the story, Ballen?" Grant was next to Giotto, her knee over his, so their legs were half intertwined. "I thought there was supposed to be plenty of real estate out here."

  It seemed that whatever had wound up Grant had been resolved in a mutually satisfactory way. I was happy to cross that off my worry list and couldn't say I was disappointed, though I suppose I should have been. Unlike McDole, Giotto was only interested in a recreational relationship, something that had never been my style. "There is. All of it bad."

  I chewed more of the cardboard-like muffin. After the meal with Dan, I'd felt obliged to try more of the Earth supplies, but I'd have preferred to eat a discarded liner from a used p-suit instead of this garbage. I swigged some coffee, hoping to reincarnate my taste buds.

  "No one's found anything habitable yet?" Dan sipped on a drinks tube filled with what looked like fruit juice.

  I tried to ignore the rubbery residue in my mouth. "Not even close. That's why people are looking for alternatives."

  "The 'Tollers could do something." Dan's words seemed to roll out of his mouth on ball bearings. "Hell, they could make a new Atoll just for Earth people if they wanted."

  "That's right," Sullivan mumbled.

  I looked closer. His eyes were a little glazed, his expression as blank as a baby's work record.

  "They're not very helpful." I pointed to Sullivan with my fork. "Am I interrupting a private party here? I can eat in my cabin."

  Grant grinned and shook his head. "Having a little fun. No harm in that, is there?"

  Giotto pressed herself against Grant's muscular chest. "Ballen isn't big on fun. I think he likes jerking off too much."

  "No worries. There are some real men around." Grant gave her a sloppy kiss.

  Dan swallowed some of his drink then belched loudly, and I sniffed a distinct odor of alcohol.

  "I know them better than you," he said. "If we worked with them, they'd help us out, for sure. They're not all assholes."

  "Where'd the booze come from?"

  Dan looked at the tube he was holding as if surprised, then grinned. "The army likes to keep its guys happy. Wanna try some? It's freeze-dried crap but does the job."

  "Yeah, I've tried it. Didn't realize we had any onboard."

  Dan leaned forward, lowering his voice to a fake whisper. "Talk to Grant. He'll fix you up. But don't tell the big guy, though. Those Indians like the joy juice a bit too much."

  "Don't call him that." My teeth grated against each other, and I took a deep breath.

  "Huh?" He puffed up his jowly cheeks then let the air escape with a whoosh. "What the hell should we call him then?"

  "His name is Logan. You could start there. Or Mr. Twofeathers, if you want to show some respect. He's not an Indian—he's Coast Salish."

  "Okay, sure. Whatever." Dan chugged from the bottle again then looked at Grant. "Why don't you let me have enough of this stuff to really tie one on? This journey sucks."

  I was glad to hear Grant was showing some restraint. Unlike his brother, Dan didn't make for good company. Charlie once told me Dan was the "happy one," but there was precious little sign of it since we'd picked him up. I tried not to let my annoyance boil over. Maybe that's what a few years in an Atoll prison did to you.

  "You need to keep your mind busy." Grant sipped from his own tube then let his hand run across Giotto's tight stomach. "And your body."

  "Fat chance of that," Dan said.

  "I used to go stargazing with my dad," Sullivan piped up. "When I was a kid. He made me draw all the consel... constanla...the star map things. He thought it was the best thing in the world."

  "Do you enjoy drawing swans and all that shit, Sullivan?" Giotto laughed hard, sounding like a lonely lighthouse's mating call.

  "Naaahhh. It was more snakes and dragons. He'd tell me stories...how they got their names." He hiccuped. "What do you like to do in your downtime, Giotto?"

  Her Geneered sapphire eyes locked with mine. "Screw."

  Sullivan seemed to think that was hilarious and laughed so much I thought he was going to choke. I imagined she was hoping to make me jealous, but I wasn't—only relieved she had someone else to keep her preoccupied.

  Dan shot her a glance. "Any time you wanna kill some time, baby..."

  Giotto made a face and pulled back. "Not while there's breath in this body, you wrinkly pervert. You couldn't even get it up."

  Dan didn't seem to mind the insult and laughed. "You might be surprised."

  "Yeah?" she grunted. "Try Sullivan. He's probably more willing."

  Grant emptied his tube and sat up a little. "Okay, folks. Bar'
s closed."

  Dan jumped in his seat. "You serious?"

  "Always."

  It was a good decision, given that the conversation was on the brink of getting nasty. Grant wasn't stupid, though I didn't know what Hernandez would think of him and Giotto practicing the horizontal bop. On the other hand, perhaps he knew and wasn't bothered as long as it didn't interfere with their mission. And considering they'd had so little to do on this trip, there wasn't much chance of that.

  Dan leaned back, sipping on the last of his booze. "What about you, Joe? How do you keep from going insane out here?"

  His manner was odd. Initially, I'd thought he was drunk, but now his voice was steady and he seemed in control of himself. For some reason, I got the feeling there was something calculating behind everything he said.

  What did I do apart from miss Dollie or plan secret projects? My head switched into job interview mode of its own free will. "Catch up on engineering tech journals or learn a new skill." I shoved the remnants of the muffin to one side. "Right now, I'm struggling to wrap my head around Casimir tensor math. Not the practical stuff—theory."

  "I'm too old for that." He drained the last drops from his drinking tube. "How about this bird? Do you think I could learn how to fly one of these?"

  "The ship?"

  "Yeah. I'm gonna need work when we get back. If I know more about these things, I might be able to land something with all the new activity out here."

  At his age, I'd be surprised if he got medical clearance, but then again with the shortage of pilots he might be in luck. "I'm not sure about that."

  "Why not?" Grant grunted. "This ain't your ship. You stole it."

  "Yeah, Ballen. Stop being so uptight. Let the old man have a crack at it." Giotto's face broke into a grin. "Only crack he's gonna get around here."

  Dan wasn't endearing himself to me. But he was still Charlie's brother, and a prickle of guilt brushed over my scalp. With his background, he'd likely have a strong work ethic, and what else would an old spaceman do? While I couldn't see any harm in him learning to operate the ship, I wasn't going to turn control over to him—but there were other options. "I'll give you access to the simulator. It's an alt-real interface, so it'll get you as close as possible without going hands-on."

  "Thanks, Joe." He smiled. "Sorry if I was a jerk about Logan. Didn't mean anything by it. Been on my own so long, I forget my manners."

  Giotto stood and wiggled her ass at Grant. "I think it's time for some relaxation."

  Grant grinned and slapped her behind. "I'm right with you, Private."

  I watched them walk away, giggling like a pair of teenagers, then looked back at Dan. He rubbed his face as though trying to wake himself up. "I'm gonna do some more catch-up. Lemme know when you set up the sim access."

  Without Dan there to prop him up, Sullivan slid over sideways, his head slapping the bench. I thought about moving him but decided a cricked neck was partial payback for him leaving BRUCE activated. I was still sipping on my coffee when Hernandez walked in. His eyes went to Sullivan, slumped on the bench seat, half under the table. After checking on him, he sat down across from me.

  "Grant messaged me. Said they'd been having a party and you'd showed up." He held his hands open, palms up. "I'm happy to let the kiddies enjoy themselves, if it doesn't go too far. Grant knows that. I trust him."

  "How far?"

  Hernandez eased into the chair opposite. "Enough to know I can count on him to save my life, which he's done more than once."

  "It's your team." I finished the last of my coffee. "You don't need my approval."

  His angle wasn't clear, then it dawned on me. "You're worried I'll tell Logan."

  "You've been friends a long time."

  I moved over to the recycler and happily threw the remains of my meal inside. "Long enough that I don't hide things from him."

  "So you might feel you have to." Hernandez stared at me. "And he could give me a sad-looking Form Sixty when we get back."

  I'd met enough of the military to know a Form Sixty was a mission evaluation report. A private document created by the person in charge, which could contain sensitive appraisals of all team members.

  "If you're worried about it, you should talk to him. Logan's a reasonable man."

  "So you're going to tell him about this?" He gestured at the drinks tubes littering the table.

  "It's not my business." I moved toward the door. "But what makes you think he doesn't already know? Logan's a smart guy. He understands how crews work—and how to handle them."

  "Ballen?"

  I turned back around. Hernandez was holding up a small bag with some red powder in it. "Wanna drink?"

  "Are you trying to bribe me, Sergeant?"

  He didn't blink. "Absolutely."

  "There's no need."

  "Call it a gift then."

  An intense hunger boiled up as my inner drunk fought to escape. The needy me wanted it so much I could almost taste the booze. I clamped down on the sensation, though I realized I was licking my lips unconsciously. "Thanks, I'm good."

  Hernandez frowned. "You're not the guy I thought I knew from your profile. Mind a few questions?"

  His comment might have been good or bad, but I didn't have anything to hide. I sat back down. "Fire away."

  "Logan told me about the RD-627, the missing Corporate ship. Got any theories?"

  That was the number one mystery, and I didn't have an answer. "Maybe it's one of Doctor Wingnut's diabolical schemes to cordon us to our own system. We have no idea. Ships are going missing, and the Atolls have lost a station. There's no evidence these are anything but malfunctions or accidents—although, some people think it might be the U'Gani."

  "Those are the aliens, right?" Hernandez rubbed his fingers across his mouth. "The nearest, that is."

  "Don't be fooled by that. The nearest U'Gani system we know of is over three-hundred and fifty light-years away. There's nothing that says we'd be of any interest to them."

  He nodded. "It's goddamn strange all these things happening at the same time."

  "Which is why we're searching for the Sacagawea. Hoping to get some answers."

  "Do you think we'll find her?"

  I hesitated. Hernandez should know the odds, but perhaps he didn't believe that one of our most advanced starships could simply vanish. "I think she's gone."

  "Are we going to see any action on this trip?"

  "Military action requiring your team?" I shook my head. "Very unlikely."

  "So we don't know anything, do we?"

  "Not unless you accept the Doctor Wingnut theory."

  Hernandez played a tattoo of slaps on his legs. "Thanks, man. That's good to know—comforting."

  A cold flush of surprise hit me, and my face must have betrayed that.

  "I know. Sounds crazy, but at least you ain't bullshitting. I can deal with that." He tapped the bag of powder. "Think it's time for me to have a drink, though. Sure you don't wanna join me?"

  I fought the rush his question triggered. "I'm your designated driver, remember?"

  *

  The control room was empty. I guessed the novelty of interstellar flight had worn off for Logan and Aurore too. It wasn't much of a surprise. There was little of interest to see and, without habitable worlds, almost nowhere to go. Though as a certified space nut, just thinking about it still sent a thrill through me.

  The prospect of the next Jump was depressing. I had little confidence we'd find anything. Ross-614 was almost five light-years from Procyon and another binary. But both its stars were red dwarfs—the larger about one and a half times the size of Jupiter and the smaller about a third of that.

  After the Jump, I brought them up on the screen. They cast a muddy orange light through the main display, with none of the brightness of either Sirius or Procyon. Aurore had left a sensor sweep setup in the system, and I triggered it to begin collecting information. But even before the data arrived, it appeared to have been a wasted trip. This system
was so uninteresting nobody had bothered to rename it, even though several ships had visited according to our records.

  I opened the system map, but it didn't help much. Both suns were flare stars, and the Habitable Zone was so close to the larger one that anything orbiting there would get fried at the first unusual solar activity—which considering the proximity of the second star was highly likely. There were several planet no-names and assorted orbital debris, but for the most part the system was as dead as a politician's promise.

  I heard someone behind me and looked around. McDole was staring at the main screen, her angular face made harsher by her frown. "That doesn't look promising."

  "It's not, but there's enough debris around that might hide signs of a ship, so we have to do a scan."

  "I understand. I'd do the same." McDole sat next to me. "What type of search pattern are you running?"

  I only knew one way to search. "Run the sensors until we get signals back. Why?"

  "We're in a JumpShip."

  "Thanks for reminding me..." I didn't see what difference that made.

  "Program a series of Jumps forming a sphere around the system. Take a snapshot of sensor readings at each then merge the data. Any points of interest should stand out in the resulting data cloud."

  I thought about it. The scans wouldn't happen any faster as such, but we could run them for shorter periods at each stop and effectively get the data back faster. "You're good. We'd need to allow time for the generators to re-energize between Jumps, but it would cut several days off the process."

  McDole nodded. "You'd also get better triangulation, allowing you to narrow down any anomalous readings."

  "I'm impressed."

  "We're more experienced with operating in space than you. Besides"—she smiled—"I'd be as happy as everyone else to minimize the time out here."

  "I can set up the Jumps, but I'll need to run it by the others. I can't see them objecting, though."

  McDole patted my arm. "You see. I'm not the enemy."

  Maybe she wasn't but someone was. "What happened to Dan?"

  "What do you mean?"