Transformation Protocol

by David M. Kelly

I almost spat out my wine. "You mean... with you?"

  "Not necessarily, if you don't want that. But together would be nice." She cocked her head to one side. "Would that be so bad?"

  I moved over to lean against the wall. "What could I possibly do on an Atoll?"

  "Earth isn't alone in needing good engineers."

  "What you people call engineering is more like magic to us scroffers."

  She pursed her lips. "Don't use that term, Joe. You're unworthy of that."

  "Sorry, I'm a little bruised, remember." I took another small sip of the wine.

  McDole smiled, but it fluttered away."Aren't we all?"

  I was intrigued. In many ways, the Atolls were massively ahead of us. I'd be the first Earth person to learn their secrets. I might be able to share them and use the opportunity to bring the two cultures closer together. A chance of a lifetime. And as for McDole, she wasn't unattractive either physically or personality-wise. Perhaps it could work, if it was on the basis of if and when rather than an expectation...

  My thoughts skidded to a halt, and I realized it was impossible. It might be nice. It might even be good. For a while, perhaps, I'd be able to convince myself I was happy, but I'd be lying. Even if I'd accepted the situation with Dollie, I wasn't ready to simply move on and forget everything. Maybe I was crazy or dumb or too much of a loner, but I couldn't do it.

  "Sorry," I mumbled.

  "I thought that would be your answer, and I respect it." She laughed. "Actually, no, I don't. I think you're missing out on something incredible. But it's your choice."

  "You're a good person, Carrie McDole." I took her hand. "One day you'll find someone. Someone much better than a broken-down tinkerer like me."

  She nodded, and when she lifted her head, I saw a tear on her cheek. "Okay, Joe."

  Neither of us said anything for a while. Then she sniffed and let my hand drop. "Could you route any encrypted Atoll communications to my cabin please? I should catch up with what's happening."

  I watched her as she walked over to the exit and disappeared down the corridor. I hadn't done anything to be ashamed of. I hadn't misled her or led her on. But somehow I still managed to feel like a complete bastard.

  It would take at least twelve hours for the power levels to recover. Unlike the others, I didn't have any reason to check messages. The only thing in my in-box would be commercial messages, and I was in no rush to pick up such gems as "Free round the world cruise and lose that toenail fungus at the same time!"

  I headed toward the payload bay, intending to fill a few hours with repairs to the doors, but as I approached the crew quarters, Dan was coming the other way.

  "Just the guy I'm looking for," he said.

  "Oh?"

  "I'm sick o' feeling like a useless, old fart. There must be something I can do to help—used to be pretty good at fixing things, before..."

  "There's not much to do right now. We'll be back home in a few days."

  Dan looked down, staring at the deck beneath his feet. "Okay. Sorry, I was kinda hoping..."

  "Hoping?" The way his voice trailed off made me think there was more behind this.

  "I'm gonna need a job." He shrugged his shoulders. "Gotta do something so as not to starve, ya know?"

  I didn't know how long he'd been away from Earth, but it was possible he didn't know the details of how things worked now. "If you stay in the USP, you're eligible for Basic Universal Income. It won't give you a millionaire lifestyle, but it's enough to live on if you're careful."

  "Yeah. I heard about the universal wag." He scowled and scratched his ear. "Not my sorta thing. Don't hold against people who take it, mind. But me? Too damn proud."

  He'd mentioned job hunting before, but I still had doubts. "You know that'll be tough? There are guys out there a quarter of your age looking for a landing site."

  Dan frowned. "Yeah, I know. That's why I was... well, I figured if I did some work for you, you might put in a good word for me."

  Even with my help, I doubted he'd have any success, but I couldn't refuse considering. "I'm on my way to repair the bay doors. If you want to tag along and help, you're welcome."

  A big grin split his wrinkled face. "You're a good guy, Joe. I can see why Charlie liked you."

  I reached for my tool bag, but Dan got there first. "I got it. Lead on, Macduff."

  As we approached the inner airlock, I heard sounds of someone inside. I clambered through the open lock and found Hernandez rummaging around by the remaining SMPT.

  "Going somewhere?" I called out.

  Hernandez jumped away from the SMPT and looked around. "You scared the hell out of me."

  I gestured at the broken doors. "If you're trying to desert, I think you're out of luck."

  He laughed. "I guess so. Figured with the other one smashed up, I should check this one in case we needed it. And you seemed too busy."

  "You could have depressurized the whole ship." I pointed at the inner airlock door. "You forgot to seal it."

  His mouth dropped open. "Jesus, what a mistake. Sorry, Ballen. That was stupid."

  "Forget it. We're here to take care of the door. Dan wanted to do some hands-on work and came to help. Haven't you got secret messages and stuff to check?"

  "You found me out." Hernandez grinned. "I was looking for an excuse to avoid them."

  I nodded. No one likes red tape. "We've all got our responsibilities."

  Hernandez gave me a lazy salute. "I'll leave it to the experts then."

  After he left, I closed the airlock as a precaution and checked over the door with Dan. The structure was good—otherwise we'd have been dead by now—but the actuators were damaged and bent. Dan also pointed out a big dent on the cover of the control circuitry.

  "What a mess." I pulled two mid-size pry bars out of my tool bag and handed them to Dan. "See if you can straighten those actuators. I'll take a look at the control panel."

  Dan went to work, sliding the bars under the arms and pulling firmly but being careful not to damage the door surface. I grabbed a star-driver and worked on the panel. Some creative wit had applied thread-lock to the fasteners, and I struggled to turn them, even using the proper tools. I thought of applying some heat, but not knowing the sensitivity of the components inside I decided it was safer to use my muscles.

  "This needs straightening." Dan stepped back. "You got a hammer and a bench block?"

  The hammer was no problem, but the block was something I didn't have. Dan sorted through the wreckage of the smashed SMPT until he came up with a thick chunk of aluminum from the main thruster mounts.

  "This should do." He moved to the actuator arm. "You wanna hold the block while I hammer?"

  I took the aluminum from him, holding it against the back of the bent arm. As soon I was ready, Dan pounded the hammer against the rod. It didn't take him long.

  "What did they do to you?" I examined the straightened rod. It looked almost perfect. "The Atolls."

  Dan's face tightened. "Waddya mean?"

  I waved at the hammer. "This. As far as I know, you're over ninety years old, but you're stronger than many people half your age—smarter too."

  I saw his jaw set, and when the words came out they were hard-edged and compressed. "They did all kinda stuff. Geneering enhancements, drugs, infected me a few times with crap they wanted to test. They didn't care what it did to me. Some of it did me good. Made me stronger, cleared my mind. Mostly it made me sick.

  "Didn't matter to them, though. They kept on poking and cutting, seemed like every day. Three, maybe four, years like that." He spat the next words. "They deserve to die for what they did to me."

  "I know you've been through a lot, and the people who held you captive should pay. But not all Atollers are evil or even necessarily anti-Earth."

  Dan was silent for several minutes. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

  "You sure about that, Joe?"

  I concentrated on getting the remaining fasteners out of the panel and lifted it off. S
everal of the smaller components had burned out, but there didn't appear to be any other physical damage. After replacing the components, the power indicator came on to show the controller was live.

  Dan had finished straightening the second actuator arm, and we were ready to check our work. We moved back through the inner lock and closed it, so we could do a full test. After depressurizing the bay, the doors lumbered open to their maximum.

  "Good job." I gave Dan a high five. "Thanks for the help."

  "It was fun—brought back good memories." He hesitated. "You know, that guy worries me."

  "Who?"

  "The sergeant. Hernandez." Dan wiped his hands on a rag.

  "He seems okay to me. A bit casual, but I'll take that over the usual orders-in-triplicate types."

  "He's always poking around with something. I mean stuff a soldier wouldn't be interested in."

  I activated the atmospheric cycling. "Like what?"

  "Like being in here just now." Dan shrugged. "And I seen him at it late into the sleep cycle too. Poking around the reactors."

  "What were you doing by the reactors?"

  "Checking the layout. Matching what I'd learned from the virtual training to the real ship." He laughed. "You know designs never line up with as-builts."

  That was true enough. Design specs and reality never tallied one hundred percent. "What was he doing?"

  "Ah, I couldn't see. I was worried more about getting my own head straight. Looked like he was checking the cooling system and heat exchangers, but I could be wrong."

  "Maybe he's doing some learning too." What Dan said surprised me a little but wasn't necessarily a sign of anything sinister. "Plenty of military people work on skills they can transfer to civilian life in their down-time. Perhaps he's studying engineering."

  Dan rubbed his hands and turned to the actuators. "Wouldn't he have mentioned it? He could learn a lot from you and Logan."

  For all I knew Hernandez had talked to Logan. I wouldn't necessarily know about it unless they wanted to include me. "I doubt it's anything to worry about."

  The recycling finished, and I swung the airlock door open. "I'll finish putting the panel back on."

  Dan grinned. "Think I'll see if Grant has any of that hooch left. Wanna join me?"

  I wasn't enthusiastic about the idea, but given the flash of anger he'd shown, perhaps I should keep an eye on him. "I'll stick my head in the wardroom after I've tidied up."

  Dan ambled off, and I went back inside the bay. It didn't take long to replace the panel. But there was something else I wanted to check.

  I crossed to the SMPT and leaned in through the open sides. What had Hernandez been doing here? Everything looked normal, but my gut said he'd been up to something. Or did I feel that because of what Dan had said? There were several storage lockers in the craft, and I opened each one. They were all empty.

  It was possible he'd hidden something behind the paneling surrounding the main thrusters, but to do that he'd have had to remove the covers, and they weren't off when we came in. I cursed my suspicious mind and Dan for planting the seeds of doubt. I'd been burned before, and now I was seeing bogeymen everywhere.

  I sealed the bay behind me and headed to meet Dan. I wasn't in the mood for drinking, but I figured I could have one to be sociable. Then, when I reached the main corridor, I stopped. The wardroom was to the left but instead I turned right, heading toward the reactor area.

  Now my gut instincts were screaming, and the rational part of my brain was pushing to quiet the jangles of doubt. Dan said he'd seen Hernandez near the heat exchangers, and I edged through the tight corridors to get there, my feet scraping on the metal walkways.

  The walls in the heat exchanger area were hidden by a rat's nest of pipes and conduit. Nothing looked out of place, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. I moved to the closest wall, pushing my arm through the tangle of pipework and felt around. There was nothing unusual, and I tried again in a different spot. Again, all I felt was the back end of the pipes and the wall.

  I moved further along and tried again. Third time lucky, perhaps? I laughed when once again I felt nothing but the cold metal.

  "You've officially gone space-happy, Ballen," I muttered. I was seeing spies in every shadow.

  I moved further along the corridor, which felt more and more claustrophobic as it narrowed directly under the main Casimir reactors. I pushed my hand through another gap in the pipes, and then I felt it—something plastic-coated lodged behind one of the splitter manifolds.

  Whatever it was resisted as I pulled on it but finally popped out. It was a black plastic cylinder about the size of a beer can, with a red stripe around the middle. A small sensor at one end with a red light next to a readout said "Armed." Next to that was a round button about the size of the end of my thumb. I turned it over, and at the other end was a printed product code, some brief instructions, and a bold heading that said "SEMPEC MK IX 2P." Even someone as slow as me didn't need a copy of the Military Explosives Almanac to decode the designation. It was a bomb.

  The corridor wasn't well lit, and I struggled to read the instructions. But after a few minutes, I'd deciphered enough to understand I could disarm it by pressing the switch on top. I turned it back over. My finger trembled as it approached the button. Finally, I pressed it, the click reverberating in the silence, and the red light went dark.

  I put it down next to the wall and took a slow breath, then worked my way around the rest of the corridor, checking behind all the pipework in the area. By the time I'd finished, I had six of the beasties lined up along the wall like I was planning on doing some plinking.

  Suddenly, I needed a drink.

  But I needed something else more. I gathered up my treasures and headed to see Logan.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I knocked on the door and waited impatiently. The bombs made me nervous, and I didn't want to be seen holding an armful of explosives—especially by Hernandez.

  Logan slid the door open. "Joe? Everything oka—"

  I shouldered my way into the room, and Aurore pulled her nightgown tighter.

  "Sorry for intruding, but it's important." I spread the bombs out on the bed.

  "I don't like the look of those things." Aurore peered closer. "What are they? Bombs?"

  Logan turned one over several times. "These are the new multi-purpose explosives. Can be detonated using a timer, short-term countdown, or a remote signal. Each one has enough strength to punch through the hull. This is standard MilSec ordnance, part of the team's supplies. Where'd you get them?"

  "Planted behind the cooling system, underneath the main generators."

  Logan whistled. "They could have destroyed the whole ship."

  I nodded. All the energy contained in the generators would have been released at once, like a giant flash-gun going off—vaporizing the ship and everything in it. "You didn't know about this, I take it?"

  Logan swallowed hard. "That's a nasty accusation, Joe."

  "How can you even ask that?" said Aurore.

  There was no way to sugarcoat it. "This whole mission is SecOps. This is their equipment. And you're the senior SecOps person on the ship."

  "In name only." Logan moved away from me. "Jesus, Joe. I'm nothing but a contractor who knows how to keep his mouth shut. Do you seriously think I'd risk Aurore or myself? And, in case you've forgotten, I try to look after you too."

  My stomach knotted, and my chest tightened. I was seeing threats everywhere. "I should have known better. Sorry."

  Logan looked at Aurore then back to me. "I don't suppose you know who planted them?"

  I didn't know whether I should mention Dan or not, but I was sick of all the secrets. "Dan was up late a few nights ago and spotted Hernandez near the generators. That seemed odd to me, so I decided to scout around."

  "Hernandez?" They both spoke at once.

  "I also saw him monkeying with the SMPT."

  After a long pause, Logan said, "How long until we can Ju
mp again?"

  I checked. "About four hours." I knew what he'd ask next. "We'll end up about one A.U. out, five days cruising from Earth."

  "Can you make it closer?"

  "It's a risk. But I did it before." I took a deep breath. "What do you want to shoot for?"

  Logan gave a humorless grin. "I'll let you balance your optimism with your appetite for adventure."

  I moved toward the door. "I'll reprogram the Jump."

  Logan stopped me. "You don't need to apologize for being human, Joe. I understand why you asked. I might have done the same in your shoes."

  "Your big feet wouldn't fit in my shoes," I joked. "You going to talk to Hernandez?"

  Logan sighed. "Is that the best option?"

  "How do we know there aren't more of those things." Aurore stabbed a finger toward the bombs. "We're flying around in a ticking time bomb."

  "How long would it take to sweep the ship?" Logan said.

  "Days." I shrugged. "They're easy to hide."

  "And he still has the trigger." Logan placed the bomb on the table next to him. "I don't think we can risk locking him up. Can we?"

  He was right. If Hernandez was willing to blow up the ship with himself on board, as soon as we tried to take him down, he'd trigger the explosives. "I could search under the pretense of maintenance work."

  Logan nodded. "Do that. But I think the best thing we can do is get home fast."

  We all agreed. I couldn't think of a reason why Hernandez would want to destroy the Shokasta, unless he was secretly working for someone else. Which made it better to head back and get rid of him—at least until we were sure we weren't in danger.

  Back at the controls, I began programming the Jump. I wasn't sure how fine I should try to cut it. The guidance said one A.U., and I had no idea if that number had been refined. After a great deal of thought and double-thought, I decided to go with half that, which would leave us about three days from Earth. It wasn't as close as I'd managed previously, but Earth's mass made me nervous about cutting it closer.

  While waiting for the countdown, I finally checked my general delivery messages. As expected, it was mostly junk. It was stupid, but I'd been half hoping for a message from Dollie. There wasn't one, and I rooted around some tech journal back issues in-between my "maintenance," but nothing I read inspired me. Even with everything that had happened, I wanted to work in space, but I didn't see much chance unless I could score a piloting gig.