“Here's hoping the Triton is having better luck. But then, if anyone can spot a rogue virus it'll be the commander of that ship.”
“You mean Jake.”
Oz nodded and went back to gazing through the cockpit windows for some time, quietly searching. “ Do you remember why they called it the hyperdrive?” he asked finally.
Jason thought for a minute, smiling at the much larger fellow. “Honestly? No idea. I think I was eight when we started taking early space travel in school.”
“I ran across the historical account when I took command of the Sunspire. Ned Mahajic was trying to invent a zero friction drive for cars.”
“Oh, I remember now. The particles surrounded the test bed and it weighed something like a tenth what it should have.”
Oz nodded, looking specifically for the nebula the Triton was holding station near. “He disappeared. Stole enough money to finish his research and just vanished for sixteen years. When he came back he was driving a floating car that could move faster, manoeuvre better and run longer than anything on the planet and because he was such a big science fiction fan himself, he named it the hyperdrive, called the space within the particle field hyperspace.”
“People still argue about that name,” Jason smiled. “What brought on the history refresher?”
“Just trying to think outside the box. Ah, there it is,” he said, pointing to the nebula. At that distance it looked like nothing more than another distant point of light. He confirmed with the navigation screen. “Burning out the hyperdrive system took a lot of energy, I don't think we could make it if we tried. I'm just glad we're not drifting near the speed of light. The time differential shouldn't be more than a couple hours at worst.”
“Thank God. I don't want to catch up with Laura after she's had sixty years to remarry. Especially if only a month has passed in this overgrown pod.”
“Yeah, with my luck I'd have a hundred grand nieces and nephews to babysit,” Oz shook his head and started making some calculations. “There's no reason why the wormhole generator shouldn't work.” He looked at the status display in front of him. With the artificial intelligence deactivated the readings were showing the correct values. Half the particle emitters were inoperable, their power reserves were down to eighteen percent, but all the other systems were fine. He brought up a holographic navigational chart. “Get a message ready to send to a Freeground receiver and another for the Triton. I'm going to find a nice place for us to wait for a pick up.”
“Why send anything to Freeground?”
“Just in case something else happens and we don't make it.”
“Ah, always thinking with the glass half full.”
Oz looked through a list of worlds, all marked with an estimated arrival time based on worm hole compression and the thrust generated by their engines against the mass of the ship. “Pandem. It's governed by the Carthans so Freeground has no connections there but they have nothing against us either.”
Jason looked over to his holodisplay. “Looks nice enough, lots of tropical islands, calm climate, big cities. Sounds like a nice place to wait. Oh, and they're marked as enemy territory by Regent Galactic, perfect. The capitol is Damshir, it covers one of the largest islands. It's as close as we can get to our rendezvous point with the power we have left.”
“Yup, the Triton won't have any trouble picking us up there.”
“You know, it'll take them a while to get our message, and that's if they're still in the same area.”
“Always poking holes in my bright ideas.”
“It had to be said,” Jason said with a shrug.
“I know, let's just hope someone passes the word if they happen to go in the other direction. Otherwise we'll end up trading for parts and searching for them with nothing but this bucket.”
“You have a point, friends or not, you take up a lot of space in a ship this size. Good thing I'm not claustrophobic,” Jason grinned wryly.
“Good thing,” Oz agreed as he started plotting the course. “Looks like it'll take us at least four days to get to Pandem.”
Duplication
Bridge operations were something that had frightened Agameg Price at first. When something big happened on the Triton it was like watching ripples in a pond emanate from the outside in. The waves all converged on the center, which was either the Flight Control Centre or the Main Bridge and when a major decision had to be made it often came straight to the command chair.
That kind of pressure was completely new to Agameg, regardless, the Captain had enough confidence in him to give him the first shift in the command seat after taking the Triton, and if anyone asked, Price would tell them that he was just as jittery and lost as anyone else. He didn't know what kind of quality he exuded that made the Captain believe in him to the extent that he would be left to oversee all the department heads, major occurrences and moment to moment executive decisions that had to be made until the Captain himself or the First Officer could assume command.
None of that mattered. Alice had started placing him in the command seat during her shifts when she would retire to the ready room office or step off the bridge for a few moments. He was getting used to it, and had only recently realized that she had begun to unofficially treat him as her second in command. He was in charge of tactical officially, and while she was on the bridge he and Alice got along very well. Many quiet conversations about their past experiences in space had taken place over the weeks of training, and there was a deep simpatico forming between them.
The rest of the bridge crew were getting accustomed to each other as well. Chemistry was important, and through no obvious intent the night shift was mostly crewed by non-humans. A nafalli was the head pilot, there was another on the engineering desk and all told there were five issyrians on the bridge. No one thought it was a prejudiced method of operations, in fact, it was comforting having so many people on duty on the command deck that shared an immediate commonality.
At first he had the same problems with command that he had always had. Telling people what to do, how to do it was not something he was comfortable with. Panloo, the night helmswoman and a tall, motherly nafalli was the first to tell him that it was his job, it was all right for him to give her orders. His second in command at tactical; Oilimae, was quite used to taking his orders, so there was no problem there, and over the time the crew spent on training and forming ship routines he had a long time to get used to the fit of the command chair.
Not much happened outside of testing systems as they came online or running drills and simulations so he had a great deal of time to learn. The detail and scope of his investigations into the workings of the various systems on board the ship were beyond the scope of what Alice or anyone else demanded or expected.
He never ran out of things to investigate, to learn from the Triton. It was a ship with history, personality and advanced, interesting systems. When Stephanie cleared him to view the growing pile of personnel files that had been generated by the new Intelligence Department he had discovered a fresh dilemma. As Alice's first in command she had entrusted him with viewing the files and flagging anything of interest, though he was sure she would be just as surprised at his most recent finding as he was.
After some consideration he didn't voice his concern, instead he started viewing the collected data promising himself that he wouldn't reveal any details to anyone not in need of the information. That's why, when he ran across a strange crew file with a DNA profile matching someone else and a picture that wasn't on any of the security feeds, he grew suspicious but wasn't quite sure who to tell. He was taking the night shift on his own, without Alice anywhere near the bridge for the second time since they'd taken the Triton. The standing order was to wake her, the department Chiefs or Captain Valance if anything urgent came up.
I'll continue my own investigation. I don't want to present them with just a suspicion. He sucked his lip up against his hidden upper teeth and let it go, making a soft smuck sound. It was something
he did unconsciously when he was in deep thought, and after doing it a third time Panloo set the autopilot and locked the controls before turning and smiling at Agameg.
He looked back at her and blinked one big dark eye at a time.
“Has something come up?” she looked quite different in her black vacsuit uniform. It was fitted very loosely as to not irritate her white fur, and it had a wider than normal neck opening. He was used to seeing her without a vacsuit after several days on the bridge sporting her lovely, thick white fur so seeing her in black took some getting used to.
Price quietly nodded to the seat at his right and she eagerly complied, moving to a seat beside him. “What could be so interesting at four in the morning?” she asked in a low whisper. She peered at him expectantly.
“I think I've found a fake crew member, or at least one who required identification aboard but didn't want to be honest about who they are.”
“That's unusual, wouldn't Intelligence have picked it up?”
“They are under trained. Testing and training puzzles are unpopular programs, no one does them unless they have to.”
“Except for you,” she smiled.
“I only try to learn so I can understand how to best direct the ship,” he shrugged. “Besides, I like a few puzzles in the morning.”
“I think you know more about this ship than anyone but the Captain and First Officer. You should spend more time relaxing, taking a look at what's happening in the observation lounges and the Botanical Gallery.”
“I will, as soon as I have an understanding.”
“An understanding?”
Agameg smiled at her, realizing just then how ambitious what he was about to say was. “Of how everything works.”
“That could take a while,” she snuffled. “Who do you think wanted to have a fake identification on board?”
Agameg turned the privacy blinder off so she could see the holographic head shot from where she was sitting. “I don't know, but I'm wondering if you have seen this person on the observation decks or anywhere else?”
She looked at the image carefully and shook her head; “No, he doesn't look like anyone I've seen. Whose DNA is that?”
“It says it matches Frost's. There's only a little background information here. It says he comes from the Lena Palus moon and was one of the Regent Galactic crew that was kept on after Captain took the ship from Wheeler.”
“What level of clearance does he have?”
“Very high, the same as Frost's.”
“That would make sense I guess, since clearance is set to people's DNA,” Panloo whispered.
“I can't find any more information on who might have made this entry, only that it was viewed for eight seconds just yesterday. Fred Mendel from Stephanie's team. The file before and after were also viewed for short periods of time. The chances are that he was looking for something else.”
“They were taking final images of people yesterday, maybe he was making sure everyone had one on file? I don't think he would need extra identification.”
“You're right. I can't think of a reason why he'd want another ID, especially using Frost's DNA.”
“What are you going to do?” Panloo asked.
Agameg pressed his upper lip against his teeth a few more times as he pondered. “I'm going to send a notice to Frost and flag this identification for Stephanie and her team in the morning. I think it's important that Frost knows his ID might have been duplicated and set to another image. I don't think there's a real need to wake the Captain or Alice. What do you think?”
“I think you're right. Between Stephanie and Frost this'll get taken care of quickly, especially since they'll probably get the news together.”
“Oh?” Agameg tilted his head quizzically.
“You didn't hear? They're together now, I saw them leave the lower observation by the pilot's berth last night. They looked very close.”
“Why am I always the last? I'll have to remember to congratulate them,” he shook his head. “Frost and Stephanie, so unexpected.”
Peering Into Eternity
The cool wind gently urged her to make a decision. Move closer to the balcony edge or back into the apartment behind her. Standing right in the middle of the semicircular balcony didn't seem good enough, it was like a half step, almost progress.
Nevertheless, she remained there, trying not to look down, to focus on the distant horizon where a new green and brown jungle crept across the dark ground towards the growing townships around Freedom Tower. She was over twenty storeys up, and if she stepped up to the railing, looked down, she knew nothing would happen. Some hidden hand wouldn't pull her over the edge, she wouldn't lose her balance and fall over the rail, and no one would push her. None of those things mattered, rational thinking couldn't cure her of the fear that gripped her whenever she even thought of getting closer to that edge.
The breeze was nice though, feeling like she was part of the fresh planet the Freeground Nation was settling on. The cuffs of her beige drawstring pants and knee length shirt flapped as the wind picked up a little. Slitted up the sides to her waist, there was more than enough room for the air to surge up her back and chill her through the thin top she wore underneath. She enjoyed the feeling of the fresh air, such a rare thing at one time, so she stuffed her hands into the sleeves of her long hooded overshirt and crossed her arms instead of stepping inside.
Ayan. That was the only name on her official identification. It had been issued that morning, and the absence of a surname meant that the genetic typing and genealogical matching had failed to connect her with any citizen on record. Doctor Anderson had told her that was a possibility.
He had been so good to her, treated her like his own flesh and blood. The memory of her first morning came to mind again, as it had often. Waking up in bed as though she had just had a good night's sleep, the first thing she did was reach for her morning pills. When the soft lights came on she realized she wasn't waking up where she remembered going to sleep, and there was an overwhelming awareness that everything was somehow new.
It must have been hard for him to just leave her alone, to watch from another room as she sat up, realized that her body was different, the results of her sudden weight loss and the evidence of multiple organ failure just wasn't there. There were other memories that were vague, more like emotions. An overall feeling of wellness, a quiet place with melodies in the distance, a heartbeat and gentle voices just at the edge of her senses.
When she took a slow, deep breath it felt different, there was no pain, no resistance in her chest. As she sat up she realized her body was proportioned differently than she remembered. Less sleek and more curvy for the most part, and there was strength she hadn't felt since she arrived back on the First Light. There was no medication on the table, the command and control unit had been replaced with something that looked like a thinner, lighter five centimetre wide transparent bracelet and there was an open closet with loose fitting clothing.
Ayan remembered just shaking her head and closing her eyes. She was herself, but not, and then she recalled the week before, when she had allowed herself to be scanned by the highest resolution equipment in the fleet. They cloned me. She remembered realizing. The feeling was indescribable as she just sat there, trying to think her way through it. It was at the same time terrifying and amazing. Her memories told her that just days ago she had started losing her hair, but when she ran her hand over her head and down her shoulders she could see and feel golden curls down to the center of her back. It was a change, but considering how her health had begun to quickly decline it was a welcome one.
Sadness threatened to grip her as the supposition struck. I must be dead. She thought. I wonder what happened.
Ayan took the command and control unit and materialized a vacsuit onto herself, then put on the long, white hooded overshirt that would become her favourite piece of clothing.
The smile on Doctor Anderson's face as he opened the door to her bedroom was some
thing she'd never forget. It was so warm, adoring, welcoming. “I can answer most of your questions,” he said quietly, gesturing to the room behind him. “Let's sit down.”
The apartment was naturally lit that morning, the golden sun filled the main sitting room with light through the large balcony windows. She sat down on a brown sofa and took a moment to get comfortable, even that felt different. “You're not a clone,” was the first thing he said.
Over a breakfast of fresh fruit, cranberry juice and coffee he explained everything she wanted to know. Firstly, that it had been almost six years since the scan was taken, so her memories didn't include the worst of her failing health or the growth of the Special Projects Division she had restarted with Laura or years of searching for Jonas Valent. Telling her that Jonas was just recently killed saving the Triton but there was some kind of copy of him as well was difficult. The man she had loved so deeply was gone, but according to the transmission received from Laura and overheard by Intelligence through surveillance equipment in Oz's quarters Jake Valance had his memories. Still, her grief was undeniable and there were questions about Jake that no one could answer. That, along with Freeground disallowing any attempt to contact him or the Triton frustrated her to no end. Her last meaningful memory was Laura and Jason's wedding, and that's one thing she was very thankful for.
Other questions, like her own marital status and what kind of person she had become in the missing years were addressed as well, and she was strangely proud of her accomplishments while she wished she could remember them. When she had run out of queries there was only one thing left; if she wasn't a clone, what was she?
It took a while for the answer to sink in. According to Doctor Anderson he had found a sample of genetic material from a woman named Angelica five generations back. He also obtained a copy of the oldest female human genetic sample on record. After studying them for a time, determining what kind of genetic alterations had been made, he fertilized many of her mother's eggs with material from her father's family. He halted the cell division and reverted all the genetic alterations to a natural state, a process taking months using templates developed with her ancestors material along with the older reference.
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