Aces

by Alanson, Craig

  ACES

  By Craig Alanson

  Text copyright © 2016 Craig Alanson

  All Rights Reserved

  Table Of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  London, Great Britain, Earth

  “That’s it?” The man peered skeptically at the object, and gently poked at it with a pen. “All this old alien junk looks the same. This thing actually works, after all this time?”

  “Yes.” Replied the scientist with a weary sigh, as he nudged the pen away. “Please don’t touch it, the instruments are very sensitive.”

  The object of such intense interest sat on a laboratory workbench, a plain, black, rubber-coated workbench, with the object itself resting gently in a foam cradle. The object was covered with sensors which had been glued or taped to it, and multicolored wires ran from the sensors, so many wires that the object looked like it had fallen into a bowl of spaghetti.

  Lighting in the lab was dim, except for a spotlight which shone a harsh cone of light down on the workbench. There were two people in the room, the only two people allowed access through the many layers of security that surrounded the company laboratory. One person was a scientist, wearing a white lab coat, peering intently at a display screen, nodding his head, murmuring softly to himself while he fiddled with his instruments. The scientist was exhausted, and it showed in the dark circles under his eyes, the wrinkled lab coat, the sagging shoulders. The other man was younger, wearing an expensive suit, his collar still buttoned, his tie still straight, his white shirt still crisp and unwrinkled, his brown hair still combed just so, despite the fact that it was past 3 o’clock in the morning of a long, long day.

  The two men absolutely despised each other.

  “Yes,” the scientist repeated, straightening up, “I'm sure. This is it. It works, but I can’t control it without the other piece.”

  The younger man’s lips tightened in a grimace he might have intended as a smile. “The missing piece, you’re certain about that also?”

  The scientist closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been working almost continuously for two days, ever since the object came to his attention. He pulled a bottle from his coat pocket, tilted his head back, and squeezed a few drops into each eye. “Now that I know what this is, I know the piece that’s missing, it fits perfectly. I saw it listed in the survey catalog.”

  The younger man, the scientist’s boss, Senior Vice President Todd Martin, frowned. He looked down at his left sleeve, and picked a tiny piece of lint off the fabric. Cleaning his suit absorbed his attention, the scientist forgotten for the moment, which only emphasized the other man’s total lack of importance, in the grand scheme of things. Back to the present. “Pity you didn’t ask to have it included in the original shipment.”

  The scientist shrugged defensively. He resented having to report to this non-scientist, this ignorant, money-grubbing jerk. The only mathematics Martin was interested in was about money. “If I’d known, I would have. Three days ago, this was just another useless old alien trinket. Until I saw its potential. Now that second piece is in government quarantine.”

  As a scientist, Dr. Nigel Watson was adequate, perhaps mediocre, no more than that. He had worked in the labs at JST Research Corporation for over twenty years; there had been only a few minor discoveries from his work, even fewer useful patents granted during his career. Solid, dependable, unimaginative. The only award he was likely to win in his life was for perfect attendance. The only reason Watson was assigned to this project is that it had been Watson, by pure luck, who discovered what the alien device was.

  Todd Martin’s first thought, after Watson told him what the device was, which piece was missing, and where that missing piece was located, was that now, had been that now he didn’t need Watson. Martin could arrange for Watson to have a tragic accident. So sad, and so fortunate.

  But, Martin didn’t get to be a Senior Vice President by making hasty decisions. His second thought was that, even if he got the missing piece, he still needed a scientist to make it work. And if he needed a scientist, Watson was actually the perfect person for the job. Watson was weak, and Todd Martin knew how to manipulate him, how to use Watson’s fragile ego to make the scientist do whatever Todd wanted. “If we need that missing piece, then,” Martin said, “we need to acquire it.”

  Watson looked down at the workbench, where the object rested in the spotlight. It did look like so many other pieces of ancient alien junk. “Acquire it? You mean steal it. Arcadia Scientific,” he mentioned the name of JST’s chief competitor, “owns it, they’d never give it up. Especially if they figure what it is. And if we try to buy it from them now, that will only make them look more closely at it.”

  It was Martin’s turn to shrug. “Arcadia may technically own it now, but they don’t have possession of it yet. Acquire, steal, it’s all the same in the end. Need I remind you, Nigel, this is a guaranteed Nobel prize for you. You would prefer they award it to someone else? Say, doesn’t your old friend Patel work for Arcadia now?”

  Watson twitched reflexively, as Martin knew he would. Patel did work as a consultant for Arcadia, and he had already been awarded one Nobel prize. Patel, who had been a student when Watson was teaching astrophysics at MIT. Smug, arrogant Patel. Martin knew just how to push Watson’s buttons. “You understand, this could be a great leap for humanity.” Watson said, as if that were his primary motivation. He pictured himself accepting the Nobel prize in Oslo, meeting Patel at the party afterward. Patel, who had shared his Nobel with three others. A prize awarded for their work on stellar formation theory. Meaningless drivel. Who cares about how stars formed, billions of years ago? Watson’s work on the alien device would change the world. The technology would be named after him. His name would live forever. He was committed now. “M-“ he started to say ‘Mister Martin’, but couldn’t bring himself to address the young suit that way, “M-mind you, we have to... acquire it without anyone finding out what we took. If anyone figures out which item we’re interested in, they will investigate, and eventually everyone will know what it is. There are no patents for rediscovering existing technology, you know. Without a patent, there won’t be any money.”

  Martin smiled, genuinely this time. He noted that Watson had said ‘we’ this time. Martin liked to win. “And no Nobel prizes, either. Don’t worry about that. I know a man who does this kind of... work. Clean, and discrete.” He patted the scientist on the shoulder, reassuringly. "Another Nobel would be good for the company, eh?"

  Despite his exhaustion, Watson's eyes burned bright with desire for a Nobel prize of his own. "Yes. Of course."

  CHAPTER 1

  Spacedock, Highpoint Station, Aurora orbit

  The spacedock supervisor watched the small ship back slowly out of his dock, attended by two dockyard tugs. He bit his lip, and shook his head. It was a nice ship, if a bit old and in need of maintenance. What concerned him was that the ship’s hyperdrive engines were past due for a major overhaul when the ship had arrived at Aurora four months ago. The only place the ship should be going was straight to Earth, because only Earth had the civilian spacedock facilities for such heavy overhaul work. The people who had bought the ship last week had been evasiv
e about where they were taking their new ship, which they had purchased in a hurry, skipping the usual safety inspections. And the supervisor had not liked their captain at all. The man, and his pilot, held all the proper certificates for flying such a spacecraft. But the man was too slick, his smile too thin, his answers too rehearsed. The supervisor didn’t trust him.

  Well, there was nothing the supervisor could do about it now. He’d filed the official notices with the Registry. As the nose of the small ship disappeared from view, he waved it goodbye. “Good luck, Isaac Newton.”

  Los Angeles, USA, Earth

  “Kaylee, Manny, get your stuff together. Let’s go.” Joy Sanchez threw one of her daughter’s sweaters over her right shoulder and bent down to push the suitcase closed. As she straightened up, her blonde hair swept across her face, she pulled it aside. “Come on, we’re already late for the spaceport. The shuttle isn’t going to wait for us.”

  “Mo - om,” Kaylee Sanchez drew the word out into two syllables, as teenagers do when exasperated by their totally uncool parents, only Kaylee was barely fourteen, albeit going on twenty two, and so much more sophisticated than her mother gave her credit for. “I can’t find my blue duffel bag. I packed it this morning.”

  “You mean this one?” Rick Sanchez poked his head in the door, his arms full of various small luggage.

  “Yes!” Kaylee leapt across the room and snatched it from her father, hugging it to her chest. “Where did you find it?” She asked suspiciously.

  Her father was taken aback. “It was in the hallway, near the front door. Why?”

  “I didn’t put it th-“ Kaylee started to scold her father in indignation.

  ”I put it there, Kaylee.” Her mother interjected. “It was under your bed, and I knew you wanted to bring it. Give it here.”

  Kaylee reluctantly let her mother take it, and add it to the pile at her feet.

  “Honey,” Rick looked in dismay at how much luggage still remained to be loaded into the van for the ride to the spaceport, “I hope we don’t have much more than this.” Their major items had been packed up by movers weeks before, to make the slow trip up the space elevator.

  Joy winked. “This is just the childrens’ items, dear. Our suitcases are still in our bedroom.”

  While the parents were talking, their twelve year old son Manuel had snuck in behind his mother and opened his sister’s duffel bag. “Ha! This is why Stinkly wanted this bag so bad. It’s got her precious Us4U holos!”

  Kaylee shrieked, enraged, and lunged at her brother, who danced away triumphantly across the bedroom, holo projector in hand. “Give it to me!” She shouted, as Manny activated the unit and tossed it on the floor. Instantly, the room had three additional occupants, the pretty boys of Us4U, the hot boy band of the moment. There were three of them, with spiked and frosted hair, tight pants, shirts open to the waist. They were singing some mindless love song, or so Rick thought, until one of them ran his hands down his torso and gyrated his hips. Manny imitated the movement. “Look at me, I’m Zak! Ooooh, I need you sooo bad, bay-BEE!” He sang along, mockingly.

  Rick, appalled, dropped all the luggage, strode over and picked up the holo unit, snapping it off. “This is awful! Kaylee, you shouldn’t be watching this stuff!”

  “Stinkly looooves Zak.” Manny taunted, safely on the other side of the bed from his sister.

  “I hate you!!” Kaylee screamed.

  “That’s it!” Rick clapped his hands. “Manny, you do not touch your sister’s things without her permission, and you stop taunting her. And don’t call her Stinkly again. Kaylee, I don’t want you telling your brother you hate him. And this thing,” he held up the holo projector, “I’m keeping for now, until I can delete that program. That is inappropriate.”

  “Mom?!” Kaylee turned to appeal to her mother.

  “Don’t look at me, young lady, I agree with your father.” Joy said, in order to support her husband, even though she had owned worse holograms at the same age.

  “This is so unfair!” Kaylee was on the verge of tears. “Why do I have to leave all my friends, and everything I like, to go to Val-hell-hole? You can’t make me!”

  “Kaylee,” Joy spoke in a sympathetic tone, “Valhalla is a very nice planet.”

  “And you are going, young lady.” Rick said flatly, running out of patience, as they ran out of time. “We all are. Finish packing.” He picked up as many suitcases as he could hold under his arms, and turned toward the hallway, when Kaylee burst into tears, ran into her bathroom, and slammed the door behind her with enough force that pictures hung on the wall swayed on their hooks. Rick dropped the suitcases again, and looked to his wife.

  Joy nodded. “Honey, I’ll talk to her. Why don’t you and Manny get the car loaded?”

  Rick silently mouthed ‘I love you’, and picked up the suitcases one more time. “Tiger, can you give me a hand here? That suitcase is probably too big for you-“

  “No, I got it, Dad.” Rick watched his son struggle to drag the heavy suitcase behind him, grateful Manny was still young enough to like being called ‘Tiger’, and also young enough to fall for the old ‘too heavy for you’ trick. Rick wanted to savor this time before the children grew up.

  More time with family had been a major factor to consider when Rick had applied for a grant to explore the alien ruins on Valhalla, a planet only recently cleared for initial human habitation. He had been awarded the grant, with enough funding for five years, the opportunity of a lifetime for a young xenoarcheologist. When Joy arranged a job as a staff exobiologist with New Ventures LLC, the company that held the colony prep contract for Valhalla, the decision was made; the family was moving to Valhalla. Now they had to get across the lightyears from Earth to Valhalla, which meant meeting up in Earth orbit with the massive transport ship Atlas Challenger, which meant getting to the Vandenberg spaceport with plenty of time to go through security to board the spaceplane, which meant getting the van on the road, which meant getting the van loaded, which meant getting their alarmingly large amount of luggage packed. And getting Kaylee out of the bathroom. Even with the automated traffic control systems, it might take as long to drive from LA to the Vandenberg spaceport as it would take to climb into orbit and rendezvous with the transport in orbit. Rick was about to ping a traffic report request from his bComm, the tiny computer chip in his brain, when he remembered his manners. Kaylee and Manny didn't have bComms, and wouldn't be getting them until they were at least eighteen, probably twenty. This in spite of the fact that some sixteen-year-olds at Kaylee's school had them already, which was foolish as far as Rick and Joy were concerned. A sixteen year old brain was too young, too much actively still growing, to be messing around with learning to work with implanted computers like a brain communicator. Which was another source of arguments with their daughter. At home, the parents used their bComms rarely, to avoid reminding Kaylee of what she didn't have. “House,” Rick called out, “traffic report.”

  “No major incidents along your route, Mister Sanchez. Traffic is moving at 96% of optimal level.” The house AI responded.

  “Yeah, optimal for LA.” Rick muttered under his breath as he walked sideways down the narrow hallway with his arms full of luggage. He was tired already. Once they got on the freeway he could take a nap. The only driving he would have to do was out of their street, once they reached the freeway onramp, the computer would take over, and deliver their rented van right to the spaceport. Then there would be a ride on a spaceplane, which would be a first for the children, and, Rick hoped, exciting enough to keep them from being bored. Once they reached the commercial space station, they had a two hour layover before catching an orbital transfer vehicle for the ride up to the Atlas Challenger, which, like most freighters, was parked near the top of the equatorial space elevator. Low-value items like cargo took the long, slow trip up the elevator, people paid extra to ride the spaceplanes.

  Atlas Challenger was a bulky freighter, not a sleek cruise ship. Passenger ships didn’t g
o out the 1,600 lightyears to Valhalla, and wouldn’t, until that planet was fully approved for colonization, and the planet’s population grew large enough to make fast cruise ships economical to operate. The freighter was under contract to New Ventures LLC to haul equipment and personnel to Valhalla, in this case it was Rick who was tagging along with Joy. He had seen holos of the cargo ship’s small passenger section, and while it was better than he had feared, it did not look like it had been built for any kind of luxury. Keeping the children occupied during the more than three month journey would be an adventure in itself.

  In her bathroom, Kaylee took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, to calm herself. It was what her yoga instructor said to do, restoring her inner balance, or something like that. Kaylee didn’t yet pay any attention to the mumbo-jumbo spiritual aspects of yoga, she liked how the exercises kept her flexible. She blotted her tears away with a towel, and looked in the mirror. She was pretty, and she knew it. Kaylee didn’t have the permanent eyeliner or sparkle implants in her retina like some of the girls in her school; her parents wouldn’t allow that. She smoothed her top, appraising herself. Unlike many girls her age, Kaylee mostly liked the way she looked. Mostly. Not that there weren’t things she wouldn’t change about herself, if she could. Soccer and basketball kept her fit. Supposedly there were people her age on Valhalla, supposedly there were even sports teams. She didn’t want to go to Valhalla, didn’t want to leave L.A., didn’t want to leave her friends. Her mother had tried to persuade Kaylee what a great opportunity this was, after all, how many of her friends ever went offworld? Except, of course, for the rich kids, who always looked down on everyone else, anyway. Valhalla was an opportunity? Yeah, an opportunity to live in primitive conditions, on a world that wasn’t even ready for colonists, only science teams and their families. No matter what her parents said, Valhalla would be uncomfortable, crude, primitive, possibly dangerous. And maybe, just maybe, exciting. Even when the coolest kids at school had teased her about having to move to a hick planet in the middle of nowhere, there had been a little, a tiny bit of envy on their faces; that Kaylee would be going where few people had gone, while they stayed in L.A. Where so many crowded together.