by Aaron Hubble
Cullen felt his stomach drop. He wanted to plead with Dr. Mitchell to do everything he could to keep the woman alive, but knew he would be giving himself away. Instead, he willed his voice to remain impassive. “Well…okay. I’m leaving. If there are any other problems…”
“There weren’t any problems to begin with, remember? You came here to check on your update.”
“Right. You’re right. Well…I’ll be off. If there are any problems, just call.”
“Of course,” said the doctor.
Cullen brushed past him, his eyes fixed on the door ahead of him. It was the portal of escape that would lead him back to the isolated world of his work station. He wished he could have looked at the woman longer, but it was enough. Enough for now.
****
The complex equations ran past his eyes, equations his mind normally would have captured, dissected, and analyzed in the blink of an eye, but not today. Instead of numbers and their cold efficiency, the image of the woman in stasis unit Beta three four one dominated his thoughts. She did that often. For an unknown reason she’d affected him, and it was starting to interfere with his work. Usually the fixation was temporary, and when he was back at his work station with the numbers flowing like water, the thought of her would drift out of his head, replaced by his first love.
Not today.
He was troubled by what Dr. Mitchell had said just before Cullen left the extraction facility. The woman, his woman, was in neural distress and apparently had been for some time. Several weeks ago, Cullen had fixed a problem with the neural inhibitor in her unit, assuming it was just the mixture. That had worked, but the doctor had said she was still wasn’t adjusting to the inhibitor, which had resulted in increased brain activity. She should be comfortably asleep while her body produced the all-important enzyme used in the cure for the virus that was ravaging Earth once again.
He stopped and realized he’d been chewing on his thumbnail. He looked down at the ragged edge of the nail. That was something he hadn’t done since he was young and trying to fit in with his classmates. He’d been an outsider right from the beginning. It wasn’t just his odd ability with numbers and natural awkwardness; no, he was literally an outsider. The admiral, who at that time had been the commander of a strike force fighting the resistance on Earth, had raided a building they thought housed an R3 supply depot. They didn’t find R3 or anything else that belonged to the resistance. Instead, they found fifteen dirty, malnourished children who were only hours from being sold into the sex trade.
Cullen had been one of those filthy children.
The CPF had tried to reunite the children with family if they could, but Cullen had no parents. The admiral, displaying a moment of rare compassion, had taken him home and formally adopted him. It was pure culture shock for him. After his real parents had died, he’d lived on the streets and in the burned-out buildings trying to find anything he could to eat and a safe place to sleep. Then in a day, he’d become a member of the elite of society, allowed to live within the walls of one of the gleaming CPF cities. So, on that first day of school, he wasn’t hard to single out. The other kids could tell right away he didn’t belong, and they’d let him know from the day he enrolled until the day he graduated.
It didn’t matter. That was a long time ago, and now he had more important things to worry about. It was ironic, though, those same people who’d taunted him were now dependent on him for their survival. Many of them would be the first human residents of HP-397, and Cullen’s work here was laying the groundwork for a new society for those same people who’d abused him in school.
Cullen looked away from the numbers and wondered what they would call this place. Would it stay Habitable Planet 397? The natives called this place Aereas. Knowing the bureaucratic nature of the CPF, they already had a committee and five subcommittees working on a name.
Tucking his thumb into his fist, Cullen laid his hand in his lap and vacantly watched the numbers scroll by aimlessly with no one to marvel at their perfect simplicity.
“Jane, stop the set.”
The flow of numbers stopped. “Done for the day, Cullen?” a female voice said in the subdural communicator implanted alongside his ear.
He’d named the voice Jane after his real mother, even though they weren’t anything alike. Jane, the computer, was an unfeeling machine who did exactly what she was programmed to do: analyze data, store information and assist Cullen in his job. Jane, the mother, had been kind and compassionate. It was hard to remember what she looked like, but Cullen had one vivid image that stood out in his mind. His too-thin mother had cut her piece of bread in half and handed it to him. She’d said she wasn’t hungry, and Cullen remembered wondering why she was lying to him.
The chair creaked as he leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “No,” he said, exasperated at himself. “Actually, I don’t know. Maybe I just need a little break and then I can come back and work.”
“Would you like me to save our progress?” Jane asked.
“No. We’ll need to start over. I didn’t catch much of what went by me the last half hour.” Cullen swiveled his chair around, internally berating himself for his lack of focus. Truly, what could he do about the woman?
Nothing.
There was nothing he could do for her, and even if there had been something, what did he think was going to happen? Would they run away together and hide in the wilderness, blissfully living on the fruit of the land? Maybe she could take him back to her parents and introduce him to them. That would be an interesting introduction.
Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet Cullen, one of the people who invaded our planet.
That was a family dinner that wouldn’t end well.
They would never even get to that point. She’d hate him for who he was, a human, the destroyer of her world. Cullen imagined her golden eyes full of venom aimed at him.
It was nothing more than a fantasy. From what he’d been told about these people, he wouldn’t fit in anyway. Too much fighting, too much hate. It was better just to forget her. She had one purpose now, and that was to produce an enzyme that would save Cullen and the rest of the human race. If she didn’t do that, then she had no purpose and would be replaced by another female who could do the job the CPF needed her to do.
That was the efficiency Cullen admired about the CPF, and he tried to focus on that point, but her face kept coming back into his mind.
A tone emanated from his work station. The holo-image shifted, the numbers receding behind a new screen. This new one told him he had an incoming cast from his father. Cullen stiffened. Why was the admiral calling him? They didn’t talk often, and when they did it was always awkward.
While Cullen admired the man, they’d never been close. Growing up, Cullen had been integrated into the household and included in everything, but he’d always felt like an add-on. His continued existence was reliant upon the benevolent generosity of a powerful man. It was a long shadow that he remained under even to this day. The very job he held now was an appointment from the admiral. While in his head Cullen knew he was more than qualified to perform this job, the fact that the admiral had assigned him this post made him feel like he hadn’t earned the job himself and, consequently, needed to perform at a level higher than most people could sustain.
The tone sounded again. Cullen sat up straight. Looking down, he cursed his wrinkled shirt. Folding laundry seemed so unnecessary until his father, the admiral, called. He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it now. Taking a deep breath, Cullen opened the holo-window and the stern face of his father appeared. He sat in front of a window, and the planet Cullen sat on revolved in the background.
“Father.” Cullen said.
“Cullen.” The admiral nodded to him.
There was a momentary silence as both men stared at each other, trying to come up with something to say that would fill the void and perhaps spark a real conversation.
“You look well, son,” the admiral finally said
. “I trust you’ve settled into your new position?”
Cullen nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Silence followed again. Cullen shifted in his seat, grasping for something to move the conversation forward. “The view looks nice from your office.”
Swiveling in his chair, the admiral looked out his window and then turned back toward Cullen. “Magnificent. Never in my wildest imaginings did I believe I would see the stars from outside the atmosphere of Earth. Now I’ve laid eyes on an alien planet.” He shook his head. “It will be a fine home for our people. Have you had the chance to explore any of the walled city you’re in?”
“Not much. There was a little resistance a couple months ago, and the soldiers still like to keep everyone in a small space in case there are rebels still hiding in the city. What I’ve seen so far has been nice. Maybe I’ll get out a little more in the future. There’s so much work to do right now, though.”
“Good boy. Keeping your mind on the mission goals. I like that, and I commend you for your dedication.” The admiral was silent for another moment. Cullen hurriedly tried again to come up with something to say, but the admiral spoke instead, rescuing him from more awkward questions.
“Son, I’m calling because I need a favor.”
Cullen tried to keep the surprise out of his face. The admiral never asked for favors. Regular people asked him for favors. That was just how it worked. His father was the most self-reliant person he’d ever met, doing almost everything on his own without the aid of anyone else. It was a matter of pride for the man, one that Cullen understood. Even though he’d been adopted, it was a trait he shared with the admiral.
“Okay. What did you have in mind?”
It was the admiral’s turn to shift in his chair. “I need your technological expertise on a project I’ve been working on. There’s a group of natives causing havoc for our troops, raiding small facilities and stealing supplies. We don’t know where they’re hiding, but I believe it’s in the large forest. One of my men came into possession of a piece of information earlier today. It involves a group called the Ma’Ha’Nae. Apparently it’s more legend than fact, but it’s still a lead that I want followed to its end. Would you mind spending some time digging into the Ma’Ha’Nae for me?”
“Yes, I could do that for you,” Cullen answered. “But I’m not sure where to start looking.”
“That won’t be a problem. The natives had a continental network of information they were able to access wirelessly. We knocked it out before beginning the invasion. It’s still offline and will remain that way, but before we shut down the network we intercepted the data and downloaded it all. I can get you access to that data.”
“That would be perfect. Our computers should be able to decipher their language for me,” Cullen said, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of mining so much data.
“I’ve also arranged for some of your more mundane duties to be shifted to other techs so you can spend time on this project. Not to make too much of this, but I’m placing a high priority on finding these people.” The admiral leaned forward in his chair and his words came faster. “The potential exists for this to turn into another resistance movement, and we cannot let that happen. Not here. Not when we’re so close to completing the mission.”
Cullen leaned back slightly, surprised by the passion in his father’s words. The man didn’t often display such emotion. “Yes, sir. I’ll get started on the project immediately.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you,” the admiral said, settling back into his chair. “Cullen, there’s no one else I would rather have on this project than you. When you’ve found something, contact me. I’ll give you access to my direct cast.”
“I will.”
The admiral nodded. “Thank you, son. Maybe we can meet for dinner when you’ve completed this project. Catch up. I have several transmissions from your mother you could read. She says she misses you and warned me if anything happens to you, she’ll hold me personally responsible. The last thing I want to do is face the wrath of that woman.”
“I’d like that,” Cullen said, smiling.
“Good.” The admiral nodded. “Well, I should let you get back to your work. Do your best, son.”
The admiral’s image winked out, leaving behind the floating seal of the Continental Peace Federation. A second later Cullen was alerted to a new text message. Opening his inbox, he found instructions and codes for access to the alien network. He nearly salivated over the untapped wealth of information about this people and their planet. Information no human eye had ever seen.
Perhaps he’d even find out a little about the mystery woman as well.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Earth - Sydney, Australia
“I’ve hit a bit of a wall,” Fernando said, the image of his face floating in the holo-window.
“What kind of wall, Fernando?” Noni asked.
Three days had elapsed since Bobby had returned from Beijing, and this was the first time they’d heard from Fernando, which was unusual. Typically, the Spaniard was quick with his work and could be counted on to hammer at a task until he’d cracked the project. So far, they hadn’t run into a decryption Fernando couldn’t decipher. He’d spoiled them. Now, Bobby, Charles, and Noni were sitting in her cramped office, waiting for the former CPF tech guru to tell them what he had or hadn’t found.
“Maybe a ‘wall’ is the wrong word. That would imply there’s something blocking my further progress toward obtaining the information. It’s more of a lost trail, so to speak.”
“Elaborate,” Noni said.
Fernando shifted in his chair somewhere in Beijing. “I was able to find schematics on the engine and how it works. Fascinating, really. Then there was some stuff on ship design and how the engine would be integrated, but I found nothing on where the actual ship is located. For all I know, the ship hasn’t even been built and this is all theoretical. I would say it was theoretical if I didn’t know the CPF so well. They don’t put large amounts of resources into something like this without a clear payoff in the end. I just don’t know what that payoff is right now. The files ended there. I can’t even find any transmissions or communications between this facility and the wider CPF. It’s like this was completely cut off from the rest of the world.”
“They really wanted to keep that place a secret,” Charles said.
“It would appear that way,” Fernando mused, pushing his round glasses higher on his nose. “I’ll keep digging. Maybe there’s something I missed.”
“Thank you, Fernando. Is there anything else?” Noni said.
“Yes, two other items of note. I found references to something called the Farpointe Initiative. No details, but I have the feeling this is crux of all their plans. By the number of references I’ve seen, I would make finding out about the Farpointe Initiative our priority.”
“Noted. What was the other point?” Noni asked.
“Academic, really, but there were files attached to the engine information about other warp flights.”
Bobby leaned forward. “Other warp flights? The CPF has done this before?”
Fernando shook his head. “Not the CPF. Well, not at first. No, this started before the plague. It’s all in the file. I’ll send you what I’ve found on the engine and the apparent history of warp flight.”
“I’ll look forward to your report. Good luck with the rest of your investigation,” Noni said.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m working as fast as I can. I want to get out of here soon. The food is terrible. I’m not sure what I’m eating.”
Bobby smiled. “Later, Fernando.”
The holo-window closed and the image of Fernando’s face faded. They were silent for several moments, trying to soak up what Fernando had just told them.
“So, that was interesting,” Charles deadpanned.
“Indeed,” said Noni. “However, it doesn’t change what we’re doing. At least not yet. We’ll continue to push on.” Noni opened a drawer in her
desk and pulled out a paper file folder.
“Paper?” Bobby said.
Noni handed him the folder. “If necessary, I wanted the ability to destroy this information quickly without leaving a digital trail. While I trust everyone in this building, the possibility exists that the CPF could have moles or, God forbid, if one of these people is captured and tortured, they could give up information critical to what I want to do next.”
Bobby opened the file and found several pieces of paper, all covered with Noni’s neat handwriting. He began to read and his eyes grew bigger.
“You found him,” Bobby said, looking up at Noni.
“We did indeed.”
“Don’t keep me in the dark,” Charles said, trying to look over Bobby’s shoulder at the file. “Who did we find?”
“Dumas,” Noni said.
Charles pumped his fist. “About time.”
Noni stood and paced behind her chair. “Several weeks ago, I received a tip from a local on the western coast. She thought she’d seen the former Australian governor passing through her town. I sent in two people I could trust to observe and ask questions without raising suspicion. They tracked him to a rundown facility of some sort in the middle of nowhere. The last report I received was he’s still there. I’ve put together a small strike team that’s leaving in a couple of hours.”
“I want on that team,” Bobby said.
“No. You’ve only been back a day. Rest and time with your family is what you need,” Noni said.
Bobby stood up from his chair. “No. What you need is your best commander in the field. We can’t let this guy get away again. We’ve been trying to find Christopher Dumas since he fled Sydney. You and I know he has information which could drive the nail into the CPF coffin. I want on that team, and I will be on that transport whether you put me on it voluntarily or if I yank someone off and take his place. It’s up to you, Noni.”
