Bypass Gemini

by Joseph Lallo

  “… I have no idea what to say to you,” he said, shaking hands.

  A moment later, the door opened and Hendricks and Miss Misra entered.

  “This way, Mr. Alexander,” she said primly.

  The trio proceeded down the hall, Miss Misra leading the way and Hendricks following like an incredibly hostile shadow. It turned out that the confusing network of hallways had evidently been thanks entirely to the trip to the “waiting” room, as the office was right down the hall from the receptionist’s desk.

  “I trust your meeting went well,” she remarked.

  “Oh, yeah. It went great. Evidently I have the choice of indentured servitude or death,” Lex replied.

  “Well, at least you get a choice.”

  “Too bad I’m not the one who gets to make it. Your Uncle isn’t exactly a teddy bear.”

  “One does not achieve his status through sentimentality and leniency.”

  “You seem to think very highly of him.”

  “As well I should. Operlo is the dross of the galaxy, Mr. Alexander. We are under no delusions to the contrary. Mr. Patel was born and bred here, and he has through his own skill and determination managed to attain no small level of success and influence, on the planet as well as off. He did so not through being a brute, as so many in his line of work have, but through cleverness and perspicacity. His methods may not be the most scrupulous, but he managed to wrestle power from men far worse, and his business dealings, legitimate and otherwise, are the only reason this planet hasn’t collapsed into total chaos and financial ruin. Since he ascended to power, this planet has become more than what it was, and though I cannot speak in specifics, the impending completion of Gemini will bring us to new heights.”

  “Okay then...” he replied when the unexpected testimonial came to an end, “I’ll tell you this. There must be a killer school around here, because you two have got one hell of a vocabulary. Or two hells of vocabularies. Whatever the appropriate plural is.”

  The smirk returned to her face and she released a breath that was almost a laugh.

  “Nicholas was educated off world, as were my five sisters and I. Thank you, though.”

  “Five sisters. Wow. Did the whole clan go to the same school?”

  “Indeed. Weston University, Tessera V.”

  “Hey, I was just on Tessera! I jumped off of the roof of the train station into traffic,” he said.

  “That was you?!” she asked, surprise the first genuine emotion to show even briefly on her face. She squinted at him for a moment. “Good heavens, it WAS you, wasn’t it?!”

  “Why do you know about that?” he asked warily.

  “It was all over the news feed. ‘The Jumper at Lon Djinn.’ They’ve been referring to you as an unknown perpetrator. None of the video got a clear shot of your face.”

  “I was on the news? Kinda cool...” he said, before his common sense cut through the thickening haze of drunkenness, “And very bad. I had a brush with notoriety before. It didn’t treat me well.”

  “Notoriety seldom does.”

  “Wait... how could they have missed my face? There are cameras everywhere! I jumped into traffic, there are probably shots of me on the stoplight feeds from three intersections.”

  “Likely VectorCorp is suppressing media coverage,” she suggested.

  “Why would they do that?”

  “The State of the Company press conference is next week. Any perceived weakness shown so near to the event would be disastrous for the stock prices. You could probably kill the CEO’s son and the news wouldn’t find out until after the closing remarks.”

  They finally approached a doorway leading to a tiled hall.

  “Here are the showers. What size are you?”

  “... What?”

  “Clothes. We’ve got uniforms. I can provide you with one.”

  “Oh, 1X. For both.”

  “You’ll have a fresh outfit waiting on the opposite side of the showers, and the next door on your right will be a sleeping hall. It should be empty. The workers are double shifting.”

  “Right. Okay. Thanks.”

  He began to shuffle into the shower.

  “And Mr. Alexander?” she called from behind him.

  “Yeah?”

  “I hope that it is indentured servitude, not death.”

  “You and me both.”

  Chapter 14

  The uniform provided was a khaki ensemble, loaded down with pockets and bearing a patch with “TRAINEE” written in bold capital letters. Combined with the wide brimmed hat that accompanied it, wearing it made him feel like the tour guide on a safari ride. He’d had more dignified outfits, but at this point a tutu would have been an improvement over the flight suit, which he was fairly sure was beginning to ferment. The shower and change of clothes, though recuperative, didn’t do much to do away with the alcoholic stupor he’d managed to achieve. Either that rum had more of a kick than he was used to or he really was a lightweight. He sat on the edge of a bunk, scratched at his unshaven face, and sorted through the facts.

  “Let’s see. I’m on an out-of-the-way planet, being essentially held prisoner by a well educated sociopath, sitting in borrowed clothes on a bunk in an empty dormitory... again. This is a weird little rut my life seems to have gotten into,” he muttered, “But on the plus side, a pretty lady said she’d rather me be a slave than a corpse. I’ve got that going for me.”

  “Alexander,” growled Hendricks.

  The sudden comment startled Lex’s sluggish mind, causing him to slip off the edge of the bed.

  “God! Were you there the whole time? You didn’t watch me shower, did you?”

  “Mr. Patel wants you,” he stated, ignoring the question.

  “I’ll bet he does. This is something I’m going to have to get used to, isn’t it? On call, 24-7.

  “On Operlo it is 35-9. Get moving.”

  “You use a different number of days in the week?” Lex said, bundling up his belongings and tucking them under his arm, “Now you’re just being contrary.”

  “Move!”

  “Okay, okay!”

  Hendricks quickly ushered him out of the complex and into the harsh sun, where the silly looking hat suddenly became well appreciated. It may not have been fashionable, but it certainly kept the burning rays off of his face. He was brought to a slightly better cared for hover cart and driven to his borrowed ship, which was surrounded by a small work crew bearing hefty looking tools and irritated expressions. Nicholas Patel was among them. He wore a similar hat and a pair of sunglasses, as well as a glossy black gadget that wrapped around the back of his neck like a collar. Miss Misra was standing beside him and was similarly equipped. They, notably, were the only ones who weren’t sweating in the baking heat.

  “Mr. Alexander!” Patel said brightly.

  “You called? And what’s with the fancy neck gear?”

  “A blood conditioner. Chills the blood passing through the carotid artery, as I understand it. Quite effective at combating the heat.”

  “Man. Rich people get all of the best toys.”

  “Rich people get all of the best everything, Mr. Alexander. It is the primary motivator for becoming rich. And speaking of toys, I tip my hat to you, sir. You’ve got an excellent security system in place,” he remarked.

  “Do I?”

  “Indeed. My men here tried all of the usual methods to pop the cockpit, and received repeated warnings about... What was the wording, Preethy?”

  “Utilization by individuals with level 2 access or lower is not permitted,” she supplied, after a glimpse at her datapad.

  “When they shifted to more direct methods of access, the ship powered up, electrified the hull, and warned of self destruction.”

  “It is also attempting to establish a secure communications link,” his assistant added.

  “Wow. High class stuff.”

  “Very much so. Would you kindly deactivate it?”

  “No.”

  The gen
erally pleased and jovial expression that seemed to be a staple of Patel’s face hardened slightly.

  “Mr. Hendricks, please motivate him.”

  Behind him, he heard the chunky mechanical sound of a good old fashion slug thrower chambering a round. Say what you will about the flashy new microwave, laser, and plasma based firearms, you just can’t beat a hand-cannon for intimidation potential. He glanced aside to see a weapon pointed at his ear that, if fired at this range, would probably leave him with more hole than head.

  “Look, it isn’t a motivation issue. I just can’t! I told you, this thing is a loaner. I didn’t even know I HAD a security system, so I sure as hell don’t know how to turn it off!” Lex quickly assured.

  “Well, now would be an excellent time to learn.”

  After a second glance at the gun, Lex reluctantly stepped toward the ship. The other workers had given it a fairly wide berth, and were watching him with interest as he approached. Aside from the engines humming and all of the system lights lit in the cockpit, there didn’t seem to be anything specific wrong. When he was close enough to touch it, he turned again. The workers were watching with morbid interest, no doubt waiting for him to take a heart-topping jolt.

  “Uh... ship? DAR? … Ma?” he said, hoping that there might be voice control that he’d been unaware of. Usually that only worked from the inside, but there was a first time for everything.

  There was no reaction, save from the workers, who snickered amongst themselves. He gingerly reached out toward the ship, squinting his eyes and turning his head away. Finally his fingers touched the surface. They almost sizzled from the sun-broiled metal, but there was no bolt of lightning or other excitement. After breathing a sigh of relief, he climbed up onto the recessed steps and tapped the control for the cockpit, which opened.

  “I guess it’s okay now,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Right, get to work, boys,” Hendricks ordered.

  A worker with a lit cutting torch stepped toward the ship. When he came within a meter of the ship, the cockpit suddenly snapped shut.

  “Unauthorized personnel within minimum proximity. Please clear the hull and standby for electrical defense activation,” warned the external address system, speaking in what appeared to be one of Ma’s many voices. Evidently this was one of the donor systems for her vocal interface.

  “Whoa, hey okay, back off!” Lex shouted, dropping to the scalding hot ground and covering his head.

  When the worker moved away, the ship chirped and proclaimed, “Proximity clear, defense disengaged.”

  “I am losing my patience, Mr. Alexander,” Patel said sternly.

  “Okay, everyone stay back, and I’ll get in and try to turn it off,” Lex said.

  “And what is to keep you from simply escaping at that point?” asked Patel.

  “Well, the mooring cables, for one,” he suggested.

  This did not seem to satisfy his host.

  “Fine, I won’t get in. I’ll just reach in. That way Mr. Trigger-Happy over there can shoot me in the ass if I try something.”

  “… Do it,” Patel said warily.

  Lex climbed up, popped the cockpit, and reached inside. Stretching as far as he could, he managed to reach the command button on the console.

  “Voice interface activated,” the ship stated.

  “Computer, deactivate security system.”

  “Modifying safety and security settings requires level 0 access. You have level 1 access.”

  “Um... grant access to these other guys.”

  “Increasing access list requires level 0 access. You have level 1 access.”

  “Anyone have any ideas?” Lex called over his shoulder.

  “Stop toying with me, Mr. Alexander,” Patel growled.

  “I’m not toying with you! This isn’t my ship! How many different ways do I have to say it!? Look, I’ll just grab the case and hand it over, and then you guys can blow the stupid ship up, for all I care.”

  “… Very well,” Patel said.

  “Move slow, Alexander. I’ve got your balls in my crosshairs,” Hendricks warned.

  “I assure you, I wouldn’t dare do something that would endanger my groinal region.”

  Slowly, Lex bent over the edge of the cockpit. The case was under the seat, and reaching it from the outside was going to be tricky. His fingers had just brushed against the handle when a blinking red light on the console suddenly turned green.

  “Secure link established,” the ship proclaimed.

  “I swear to God I didn’t do that!” Lex squeaked, crossing his legs.

  “Finally!” came a voice over the ship’s com system. It was Karter. “What are you trying to do, steal my ship? Control override.”

  Instantly the ship lurched upward, taking Lex with it. He scrambled for a grip, sending his wadded up flight suit tumbling inside. A bullet ricocheted off of the hull an eighth of an inch from his thigh. A moment later, the ship reached the ends of the mooring lines, coming to a complete stop. Lex was not so lucky. He continued under his own momentum until his back collided with the open cockpit hatch. He bounced painfully off and landed fully in the cockpit. Hendricks’ gun barked a few more times, joined a moment later by a few more in the fully automatic range.

  “I told you it would take seventy-two hours. That means you come and get your old ship in seventy-two hours! No more gallivanting, I’m bringing that bird home. Automatic Pilot: Engage. Manual Control: Lock Out. Destination Select: Home. Activate.”

  The engines groaned and strained against the mooring lines as bullets continued to pepper the belly of the ship, now joined by some of the more colorful energy weapons. With a clank, the cockpit hatch locked shut again. Finally the engines flared and the mooring lines snapped, sending the DAR launching into the sky. It was out of the atmosphere and well on its way to FTL speed before Lex managed to climb into the seat.

  Behind him on the ground. Hendricks was screaming profanities at the men while Patel shook his head, grin back on his face.

  “You know something. I cannot decide whether that man is an absolute genius or the luckiest idiot I’ve ever seen,” he said.

  “I’ll track him down and get him back here in two hours, Mr. Patel,” Hendricks assured.

  “Don’t bother. Is it active, Preethy?”

  “It is, sir,” she replied after consulting her datapad.

  “Then we shall deal with this later. Back to work, all. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

  Chapter 15

  The DAR carrying Lex settled down in the hangar just under a day later. It would have taken Lex considerably longer if he’d had control of the ship. This is chiefly because Lex has petty human concerns like survival. The course traveled by the ship was nearly a straight line, which passed through no fewer than six heavily patrolled regions of space, directly through the center of a debris strewn nebula, and deep enough into the corona of a red giant to risk all sorts of nasty consequences at superluminal speeds. Somehow, though, he arrived in one piece, though the waste disposal system of the pilot’s chair got quite a workout.

  He peeled himself out of the seat and crawled shakily to the catwalk of Karter’s hangar building when the cockpit finally opened. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of the construction uniform during the trip.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Alexander. The bus is waiting for you outside to take you to Karter’s lab,” said the helpful voice of the computer.

  “Yeah... I’m... just going to sit down here for a minute,” he said, slowly collapsing to the catwalk.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “… Yeah. Yeah, there is something wrong. Were you in on that little jaunt through space he sent me on just now? Did you know what he had in mind?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were okay with it?”

  “Your survival odds ranged from ninety-two to ninety-eight percent, based upon known factors. Intervention did not appear necessary.”

  “You were okay with
ninety-two?”

  “The mean was ninety-six point eight five percent. My default safety threshold is ninety-five percent.”

  “Maybe next time aim for ninety-nine.”

  “The survivability of your departure through the reduced exit window was only eighty-four percent. Perhaps your perceived helplessness due to the lock out of manual controls sensitized you to the risks involved for the return trip.”

  Lex stared blankly for a moment.

  “Did he program you to psychoanalyze people, or was that your idea?”

  “Careful analysis of intention, motivation, and mental disposition has become an indispensable skill when monitoring and reacting to Karter.”

  “Yeah, I guess it would.”

  A moment passed.

  “Was your trip successful?”

  “Well, it was very productive. I’ve still got the package, but now I’m pretty sure I pissed off the mob.”

  “That is an undesirable outcome.”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  A few more moments passed.

  “Please gather your personal possessions from the vessel. The bus is waiting for you outside to-”

  “JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE!” he snapped, shutting his eyes tight and cupping his forehead.

  “You are showing strong indicators of stress. Would you like to talk about it?”

  Lex sighed and climbed to his feet, beginning to fetch his things from the ship.

  “I’m screwed, Ma. I’m screwed, and I have no idea what to do. The biggest company in the universe wants me dead, and they are working both sides of the law to do it. I don’t have anyone to turn to. There ISN’T anyone to turn to! And I don’t even know why they’re after me! Evidently they think that this big pile of papers has something of huge importance that could do major damage to the company,” he said, shaking the battered case, “but I don’t know what it is! I don’t know if there’s a way out of this one, Ma. I can’t even turn on my slidepad and call for help, because the second I do, they’ll be all over me, and probably whoever I called, too.”

  “You are faced with a number of uncertainties. The human mind is often stressed by the presence of unknowns. One can remove unknowns by increasing data or processing available data,” Ma said, “Figuring out what the contents of the case represent could alleviate some of your stress and present new options.”