Redemption Protocol (Contact)

by Mike Freeman

“No problem. I have to get changed.” She turned and walked away. “See you over there in half an hour.”

  He enjoyed watching her walk away. He enjoyed knowing she enjoyed him enjoying her walking away.

  “Could you give me ten minutes, John? I have a meeting with Jack Tyburn, our security lead, first.”

  “Of course, Mr Darkwood.”

  Darkwood escorted the glowing Miss Bergeron away.

  Havoc turned back to Fournier.

  “You don't really think Kemensky is unqualified?”

  Fournier chuckled.

  “No, just a gossip. He's an excellent physicist. But so is Weaver. Her father's idiosyncrasies shouldn't color her.”

  “And you do more than farm walnuts?”

  “Oh yes. Sire children. Raise cattle. Grow coffee.”

  Havoc looked at Fournier expectantly.

  Fournier shrugged.

  “Some physics.”

  “And you're here to...?”

  “Apparently the target system has generated interesting readings. Our Alliance leaders believe that it may unlock the secrets of ‘Weavrian energy’.”

  Fournier said the last part as if ‘our Alliance leaders’ also believed in the tooth fairy. Fournier watched Havoc for a reaction and got one, just not the one he was expecting. Havoc was momentarily stunned. A short, tubby man joined them before Havoc responded, flabbergasted.

  “This is an Alliance mission?”

  Fournier’s giant intellect struggled to deal with such an easy question. He got there in the end.

  “Yes.”

  Havoc was still reeling.

  “This is an Alliance ship?”

  “Yes, technically I suppose it is. It’s Darkwood’s ship, but Horizon falls under the auspices and governance of the Alliance. So, yes.”

  Havoc could feel the air whistling out of his tires. He'd awoken on a ship belonging to the Alliance, the civilization that had convicted him and sentenced him to death.

  The tubby man stuck his hand out with an enthusiastic smile.

  “Bob Stone, energy systems. You look like you’ve just met my wife.”

  Havoc looked at Stone, bemused. Stone wasn't obese, just overweight. But no one above Standard-2 got fat unless they wanted to.

  Touvenay raised his chin imperiously.

  “I find it bizarre that someone would volunteer for a long range mission to escape other people. One will never live in closer proximity to others in one’s entire life.”

  Stone shook his head affably, apparently oblivious to Touvenay’s acerbic delivery.

  “I didn't say I was coming here to get away from people generally, Touvenay. I said my wife, specifically. And she isn't here. You’d know if she was. I’d be out there.”

  Stone laughed as he pointed into space and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. Stone didn’t seem to have much of a neck; his head hung in front of his body like a benevolent vulture. Stone was bald and there was an odd shaped dome protruding from his head. It reminded Havoc of the blister formed when a sensor package is retrofitted to a fuselage. Havoc's face stayed neutral but Stone watched him taking in his baldness, short stature and weight.

  “For my wife,” Stone said.

  Havoc raised an eyebrow.

  Stone gestured around his belly as he wiped his handkerchief over his neck.

  “I wanted her to leave me. Didn’t work though.”

  Stone noted the looks of increasing incredulity around him.

  “Not my best idea.”

  There was a pause. Then an explosion of laughter.

  Stone ran his hands down his sides.

  “Chicks dig this shape. Believe it.”

  Havoc didn’t and from the laughter, neither did anyone else.

  Stone laughed as well. He raised his glass and took another drink, mopping his forehead with his free hand.

  “You’re welcome.” Stone leaned forward conspiratorially. “So we’ve got a few heavy hitters on this trip, don’t you think? Our Ambassador has got to be exceptional,” – Stone strongly stressed the 'x' in exceptional as he referred to the top level of human capability, then gestured toward the people filing out of a meeting room and making their way to the bar – “and those security types are going to be enhanced or more.”

  Havoc smiled with the rest of the group, tolerating Stone's appalling breech of etiquette with good humor. One never referred to another person’s level in polite conversation, whether standard, enhanced or exceptional, it just wasn't done. Stone was clearly a little giddy on his first trip out.

  “And Darkwood has got to be exceptional, if not an ultra.”

  Touvenay smiled.

  “Ah, the ultra question. Truly Gods amongst men.”

  Stone tapped his nose.

  “Eh? Eh? Hmm?”

  Fournier shook his head.

  “Don’t encourage him. Next he'll do other dimensions and the afterlife.”

  Stone grinned.

  “I still maintain that our Ambassador is an ex-ceptional character.”

  Touvenay looked thoughtful.

  “To get Abbott and Darkwood on board they must have found something remarkable.”

  At the mention of Abbott's name Havoc felt his already depleted tires explode beneath him.

  “Abbott? Michael Abbott?”

  Touvenay nodded.

  “Yes. You know him?”

  “No.”

  “But he knows you?” Fournier said.

  “No.”

  “You know his wife?” Stone said.

  “No.”

  Laughter.

  Stone’s eyebrows waggled toward the blimp on the top of his head. Controversy, they waggled. Stone was loving this trip already.

  Havoc, on the other hand, was preoccupied with the implications of Michael Abbott, Chief Ambassador to the entire Alliance of Free Peoples and one of the biggest hitters in all Hspace, being on this mission. Abbott was comfortably the most powerful person he'd ever been on a ship with. And on a personal note, wherever Michael Abbott was, his Chief Adviser, Stephanie Calthorpe, was too. Small world, he thought.

  If Abbott was on a long range mission, Havoc could think of one reason and one reason only. Contact. Another civilization and presumably not human since they already knew all of them. Not to mention that you wouldn’t send a covert research vessel to meet them, and certainly not with people like him on board. Darkwood's ship on an Alliance mission with a top level diplomatic team and Fournier, a scientific genius, so presumably a top drawer science team. A covert attempt to make contact with an alien civilization. Havoc’s head spun.

  Stone made a comment but Havoc didn't really catch it, he was too busy reassessing the room in light of his deduction. Did it make sense? He looked around to assess the 'security types' that Stone had pointed out. They looked more like the kind of people he was used to working with – and against, come to mention it.

  One didn’t scan other people in polite society – if someone was worth scanning, they were capable enough to detect your scan. It was tantamount to announcing that you were thinking about killing them, either now or in the future, but you were still trying to decide if it was a good idea. That said, you could still deduce a lot about people by simply being observant. Mass was a dead give away for certain military subtypes. It was just plain difficult for a Titan X to disguise the fact that they massed three hundred and twenty kilos and had feet thirty centimeters wide. As it happened, it wasn’t hard for Havoc to recall the exact characteristics of a Titan X; they came readily to mind. After all, he was pretty sure he was looking straight at one.

  The six 'security types' Stone had referred to were getting drinks. One man towered over the rest. Stone gestured toward the giant.

  “Ethan Marsac. Looks like he should be in the gladiatorial ring with a harpoon.”

  Havoc agreed. If he shook Marsac’s hand he would do it gently – after all, he wanted it back. Marsac was massive, like an Olympian God. Comfortably over two meters tall, he looked as if
he had been hewn from a block of granite. Marsac’s skin was lustrous ebony and his head was clean shaven. Stone was right – the wives of the senate would have loved him. Marsac turned toward him as he reached for his drink. Written across the front of Marsac’s vest top, in gold capital letters, was the word 'TITAN'.

  Havoc laughed.

  “Subtle.”

  There was a chance that someone so obviously broadcasting their capability was employing misdirection, but it was hard to fathom why in this case. A Titan X was capable and hard to hide. Havoc gave Marsac a 'high' on this personal threat scale. Only an idiot would want to take on a Titan X. He hadn't stayed alive by being blasé about these things.

  Stone peered at him, his eyes bright.

  “So what are you going to do when Marsac strings you up?”

  There was a collective intake of breath at Stone's allusion to Havoc's criminal status. Mischievous bastard. Still, Havoc felt relaxed. He had nothing to prove.

  “Hang like a trussed chicken, I expect.”

  There was relieved laughter.

  Stone waggled his hand as he was struck by inspiration.

  “Hey, by the way, you have to play Weaver at tennis. It’s just a shame––”

  “––about the baggy shorts. Yeah, I heard.”

  Stone nodded as he rubbed his stomach, looking uncomfortable.

  “Too many biscuits.”

  Havoc thought Stone was probably low to mid-standard and bound to suffer after such a long trip. Stone was clearly having wake up problems and had piled down the fluids to make himself feel better. He didn't look well at all. Havoc thought about having a doctor or an automed take a look at him. He checked shipnet. The nearest automed was two habs away. He was considering taking Stone over there as Fournier gestured at the holo of the target system.

  “Have a look at this.”

  12.

  Tyburn stood at the far end of the table, his chair pushed to one side. He looked over at Darkwood, who reclined in a relaxed pose at the opposite end of the table.

  “Your security?” Tyburn said.

  “Ah. John Havoc.”

  “Yes.”

  It was a statement and a question.

  Darkwood studied the fingernails of his left hand.

  “He's the best. He's independent. He's certainly independent of the Alliance.”

  Tyburn waited.

  Darkwood shrugged.

  “That's all. Under the Alliance agreement I had one slot for personal security. As I said, he's the best.”

  “You've picked half my security detail. Is there something I need to know?”

  “No.”

  “We have a line of command, Darkwood. And an established security team.”

  Darkwood nodded.

  “Quite. I thought he could be useful.”

  “Useful.”

  Again, it was a statement and a question.

  Darkwood said nothing.

  Tyburn raised an eyebrow.

  “But perhaps a little controversial?”

  Darkwood leaned forward to sip his tea.

  “He can't have many ethical hang-ups.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “You know him?”

  “Who doesn't? He could be... destabilizing.”

  Darkwood glanced at Tyburn, pre-sip.

  “Is he as good as his reputation?”

  Tyburn shook his head instinctively.

  “No one is that good.”

  “More muscle could prove useful.”

  “He was Special Service. He's no grunt.”

  Darkwood stopped, mid-sip.

  “Clever muscle then.”

  Tyburn shook his head as he stepped back. He would adapt – it was what he did. There was no point in pressing the issue with Darkwood – the industrialist didn’t have the first idea. Havoc was another asset to be deployed, that was all. There might even be benefits; the situation just needed to be managed. Tyburn knew the scale of the threat if Havoc got suspicious. He considered the merits of early elimination. He had the advantage of surprise, after all. One hell of a surprise.

  Darkwood waved at someone through the window. Tyburn tracked Darkwood’s gaze across the Hub Hab and made eye contact with Havoc.

  Been a long time, he thought.

  13.

  Havoc looked across the room at Darkwood, who was in a meeting room with Tyburn, their security lead. Presumably Tyburn would be his boss.

  Tyburn leaned forward in a dominant stance while Darkwood sat back sipping his tea. Darkwood caught Havoc's eye through the window and raised his hand to gesture 'a few more minutes'. Tyburn followed Darkwood's gaze toward him and Havoc and Tyburn locked eyes. Before Havoc could get any sense of the man, the privacy glass turned opaque.

  Havoc felt confused. He was looking straight through the window. The ghostly figures continued their discussion in a different part of the spectrum. His vision had adjusted instantly. How odd.

  Havoc turned back to the holo and leaned in with the others. He wanted to know where he was going, cosmically speaking. Kemensky drifted back over to join them. Havoc suspected that Kemensky couldn't bear to cut himself off from the undisputed leader of his field for long.

  In the holo, two stars circled each other. One was massive and the other impossibly small. The larger star was spilling mass into the orbit of the tiny one, a teardrop of gas bulging from its surface and spiraling into the brilliant accretion disc surrounding its infinitesimal neighbor. The tiny star ejected two narrow cones of blue-white light perpendicular to its disc.

  Fournier gestured at the holo.

  “The big star is a luminous blue hypergiant called Jötunn, after the great Norse frost giant; noted both for his voluminous blue beard and the staggering size of his member. And Jötunn is a giant, one hundred and seventy million kilometers across and with a mass one hundred and sixty times that of our Origin Sun. It balances precariously on the physical limit for a stellar object.”

  “What happens if it goes over?” Stone asked.

  Havoc chuckled. Stone would have been the kid who prods a wasp nest to see what happens.

  “Hypernova,” Fournier said.

  Stone’s eyes widened.

  Fournier pointed at the giant star.

  “Jötunn’s peak luminosity is five million times greater than our Origin Sun. It generates one megawatt at one hundred and fifty million kilometers.”

  Havoc was startled by this revelation.

  “Being one AU from Jötunn is equivalent to being fired on by a one Megawatt laser?”

  “At point blank range continuously,” Fournier confirmed.

  Havoc digested this unsavory tidbit.

  Fournier pointed at the gaseous clouds streaming off Jötunn and spiraling into the colossal disc around the tiny star.

  “What has perhaps ensured Jötunn's continued existence by preventing it going hypernova thus far is its tiny binary partner, the magnetar Neria. Jötunn is so large that part of its mass falls outside its Roche lobe and into Neria's. You can see the teardrop lifting off Jötunn and streaming toward Neria.”

  Touvenay wrinkled his nose.

  “Neria is bleeding Jötunn dry.”

  “Sounds like my wife,” Stone said.

  Fournier pointed at the tiny star.

  “Neria’s gravity is so strong that you're actually seeing a lot of its back side when you look at the front. Its mass approaches the Tolman–Oppenheimer–Volkoff limit, at which point it will collapse into a denser form like a quark star or a black hole. As you'd expect, it has a powerful magnetic field.”

  “Instrument affecting?” Havoc asked.

  Fournier nodded.

  “We could easily see instrument effects even on shielded equipment two hundred million kilometers away.”

  Havoc absorbed this as Stone pointed at a geyser bursting out from the side of Jötunn.

  “What’s that?”

  “Ah, yes. Jötunn is very active with coronal mass ejections.”


  Better and better, Havoc thought.

  “Will we be in range?”

  Fournier’s hand described a figure eight through the holo.

  “The target planet orbits the two stars in a figure eight pattern. When the target planet orbits Jötunn, it's definitely possible for it to be caught by one of the larger coronal mass ejections. On the return path from Neria to Jötunn, the target planet also passes through the Oovort cloud, which you can see here.”

  Havoc knew where this was going.

  “There’s a collision risk with debris in the Oovort cloud?”

  “Precisely.”

  Havoc pointed at the adjacent holo that encompassed the wider galactic segment, where two translucent spheres surrounded the binary system.

  “What are these two spheres?”

  Fournier glanced over.

  “Ah, yes. We’ve no idea. We can date the origin events though. They were ejected at sublight velocities from points consistent with the orbit of our mission target around nine thousand and six thousand years ago. We have no idea what they are or what caused them. Interesting, aren’t they?”

  There was a considered silence.

  Stone made a face.

  “So we're looking at an unstable giant ball of death being sucked into an unstable tiny ball of death. Unstable. Death. And we're going here? On purpose?”

  Fournier frowned as he reviewed Stone’s points.

  “Well, yes.”

  Havoc drank in the display.

  “Looks good though.”

  Kemensky nodded.

  “As a mission backdrop, it's incredible.”

  “Wonderful photographs,” Touvenay said.

  “Most hostile system I've ever visited,” Havoc said.

  “Same,” Fournier said.

  “Same,” Touvenay said.

  “Same,” Kemensky said.

  “I think I've eaten too many chicken nuggets,” Stone said.

  Havoc looked at Stone sympathetically. Stone looked back at him, his expression glum. Havoc was keen to hear about the mission target but Stone was dying here.

  “Let's get you a drink then off to the automed.”

  Stone nodded, mopping his head as they walked away. Touvenay's voice followed them over.

  “He thinks that’s chicken in those nuggets?”