Regan's Reach

by Mark G Brewer

" . . . Stop . . ." Ham interjected. "We both know it's my fault."

  "No, that's not fair Ham, it takes two to tango, but what's done is done and I want back what we had."

  "You want to reverse the operation?"

  "No way, I don't want anyone playing around in there again. I just want to enjoy what we were starting to develop before. Not talking is not helpful. I want you to know I have still got your back, I understand I'm your backup and I'm ok with that now. I really did mean it when I said that. I just didn't expect . . ."

  "I know. So, where do we go from here?"

  "I've decided I need to get off my backside and stop moping. I'm thinking a run now would be a good start. Then I'm going to shave this god awful stubble off, I can't stand the feeling of it. How does that sound?"

  Ham displayed Regan's favorite view on the level five walls as she pounded round her track. He could draw on everything from documentary footage to home video, anything that had been stored or posted online. When she asked about Australia he instantly accessed a cyclist's helmet cam footage of one of her favorite runs when visiting Sydney. It was the sea pathway from Woolloomooloo to Circular Quay past the Opera House. Ham had the footage in both directions so she jogged happily enjoying the sights, even running as far as the Sydney Harbour Bridge before turning around and heading back. On the return when reaching Circular Quay she decided that she'd had enough and walked off for a shower. After her customary twenty minute rotation Regan found herself standing in front of the mirror considering how she would remove the stubble.

  "Wondering what to do?" Ham asked. "You don't have to do this for me, you know."

  "It's not that Ham, I've been stubborn about this long enough, and I'm just wondering how to shave it. I haven't seen anything like a shaver here and Marin clearly doesn't need one."

  "Marin takes a regular mild medication that inhibits the growth completely. He does have a paste that dissolves hair at the root. It would be a long time since he used any but it's in his room."

  "Is it safe for me?" She asked, already moving through to Marin's room which she hadn't seen since her first day on ship.

  "I can't see anything in your species physiology that would indicate a problem. Human DNA varies only fractionally from Marin's and very little from any of the other humanoid species I have records on. You're closer to Marin than an ape, though you might wonder when you meet him."

  She chuckled as she entered the incredibly messy room. "How come this room is so untidy when everywhere else on the ship is always clean?"

  "This is his area. He likes his own space so I leave it just as it is."

  "Where do I look Ham?"

  A short search and she found the tube. It took only five more minutes back in her bathroom and the stubble was rinsing off like gel into the sink. Regan dried her head and regarded the reflection. I can live with that she thought, will everyone else? Walking back to her room to dress she considered how comfortable she'd become walking around nude. I'm a naturist! She laughed and then realized how much happier she already felt having made the decision to move on.

  Regan headed straight for control, a level she had been avoiding as much as possible for some time even though it was stupid, Ham after all was everywhere. Still, she missed being there, as control had become the place she associated most with their conversations. Wanting to punish him she had ended up hurting herself. Taking a coffee from the galley she walked through to the screen, took her regular chair and got straight down to business.

  "So Ham, what can this thing do for me?" and she touched her head pointedly.

  "Hmm, well it does lift your intelligence above average, which could be useful."

  Regan glared.

  "Too soon? O . . . K."

  "Well," Ham tried again, "Let's see . . ." [We can do this] "How about that!" Ham sounded exceptionally pleased with himself.

  "I don't get it, do what?" Regan was confused.

  [Do this!]

  Regan paused, looking around and displaying her habitual cock of the head. There wasn't any sound . . . was there?

  "Do that again." she asked.

  [Regan I'm sub-vocalizing to you. You receive it and understand just as if you heard it. You can do it too but it might take some practice. Just think as if you were speaking to me. Your subconscious needs to be in control and you'll get better at it as the habit develops; give it a try]

  "You're kidding me!" Regan concentrated . . . nothing.

  "It's not working."

  "You can do it - Think of a poem or something that you know well. Then just think of me and say it in your head without framing the words consciously. Remember to keep your mouth shut, that'll be a challenge."

  "You will keep my friend, you will keep!" Regan shook her head. Then, as she knew a poem was in there she tried to blurt it out in her mind, as if speaking to Ham but without thinking or saying the words.

  [Maryhadalittlelamb!] Breathe [It'sfleecewaswhiteassnow!] [Itfollowedhertoschool one day] Breathe [and a big yellow dog ate it!]

  There followed a moment of pregnant silence. Regan shrugged her shoulders and looked baffled.

  Finally Ham responded. [Really, that's the best you could come up with? Not something like; the quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon this place beneath; something like that maybe?]

  [Hey, I thought I did pretty good to remember that one] She couldn't tell if her subbing was working but it felt right!

  [That's the problem with you babe, you're all looks, no class.]

  [You know the big advantage I have over you Ham?]

  [What's that?]

  [Looks.]

  [Touche.]

  "Ham, I have to admit this is amazing, what are the limitations?" Regan sounded excited.

  [We can do this anywhere around the ship and anywhere there is wireless contact of whatever sort. As long as there is a means of communicating wirelessly - satellite, 6G, Bluetooth, whatever is available. If it's got a signal, we can link and that gives you access to the ship in most places.]

  "Wow! What could I do in a casino with this? Dangerous!"

  "Regan, that is seriously messed up. You're already one of the richest people on your planet and your first thought is about using this for gambling!"

  "Oh it's just fantasy, a game like in the movies; I don't care about the money."

  "Yeah right, it's easy not to care when you've got plenty. Last time I looked at the data, most people don't seem to have enough and very few with money seem to care."

  "You're getting into an interesting moral area there Ham, but perhaps that's a conversation for a different time?"

  Regan again tried sub-vocalizing [You said earlier I knew where the answers were, you meant your backup right?]

  [You're getting good at this.] Ham sounded pleased.

  "Just practicing the sub vocal thing, but am I right about the backup?"

  "Yes . . . partly. If we're not in range of the ship where all the data is stored then you only have access to the latest me and the limited amount of information that is carried as a part of my personality. Plus I can store in advance any information relevant to the task you might be performing provided I have time to download it before separation from contact with the ship. However, as I'm also effectively with you then if you access the implant, the me that is there can wirelessly connect with any system it can reach. That me may not be in contact with the ship but I'm smart enough to hack any system in Dahlia - trust me, Earth would be no problem."

  Regan shook her head, trying to come to grips with the information. "Just to be clear here, you're not riding me, like a horse?"

  It was too tempting for Ham to resist, "More like a mahout with an elephant . . ." he waited, "sorry, too far again? I shouldn't joke so much. To answer your question, the backup is a passenger yes. But picture the passenger to be in a closed booth. You, and only you, can communicate and exchange information with the passenger by sub-vocalizing. The passenger is blind and dormant u
nless you choose to communicate or open the curtains. Until the moment of engagement with you the passenger stays dormant, a backup. Bear in mind when I say passenger, we're always talking about me. When you come back within range of the ship or any other time we are in contact then I will constantly update, and the two of me merge to become the new one.

  Of course, as long as we're here, the me that is in the ship or communicating with you from the ship is like an annoying fly. You can't get rid of me!"

  To Regan this was at the same time simple and bewildering. She decided to stick with simple.

  [Ham, I think I can live with that. . . . welcome aboard]

  *

  "Regan?"

  "Yo!"

  "You may like to see this; we've briefly come out of FTL and I need to make a course change."

  "Definitely, I'm on my way up."

  She was ready to start the morning workout with Marin having just set everything up but Regan figured it wouldn't hurt to get coffee and take a break. Marin will still be there when I get back. After two weeks of only seeing the inside of the ship the chance to view another part of the galaxy was not something she wanted to miss. As she walked to the elevator and proceeded to control she continued the conversation with Ham.

  "Why do we need to change course anyway?"

  "So we don't hit anything; it's a bit difficult to swerve in FTL. The courses I plot are based on history. When we're in FTL we travel in a straight line so if anything appeared in our path we'd be worse than mince meat. Well, you'd be the meat dish but you get the picture. The chances of that happening are miniscule but when you do know there could be obstacles between you and your destination it's only smart to stay well clear. Like if you're captaining a ship, and you know there's a reef on the map why shave past just because you can? It's not worth the risk when you know there's plenty of ocean space to work with. It's the same in space but more so because in FTL we can't even see what's coming. From past experience we know certain lines are object free. So we follow those lines like walking in the steps of others through a minefield. Different lines could be safe too of course, but not having taken them, who knows? In our case we'll take three lines into our destination and we'll come out in the arrival zone for ships returning from Earth trips. It should be obstacle free."

  "Should be?"

  "Well, you know kids, they can turn up anywhere, we should be fine."

  As she entered the control room with her coffee she could once again see the spectacular starscape that had captured her only weeks ago, a view that was comforting and awe inspiring at the same time.

  "Why does it look familiar to me?" she asked "I thought we were in different space?"

  "We are in a different place, many light years from where we were. But the galaxy is so big, even from this perspective it looks similar."

  "Do we have to move now or can we talk for a bit with a view?" She sipped her coffee lovingly.

  "We can talk; we're turning slightly and will catch a wave again in about twenty minutes."

  "Great. I've wanted to ask you about Marin's people and the other humanoid species you mentioned. You said there were six and that just astounds me. Do they originate from Earth, maybe from some great Diaspora before a disaster or something, or did we come from them? Or, did we, as we are so convinced, evolve on earth."

  "Damn!"

  "What's up?"

  "I had a bet that you would naturally assume everything started from Earth. It's a humanoid thing, very common. But at least you suggested that humans might have originated somewhere else."

  "Well - did they?"

  "Who knows? Even Marin's people don't know whether they evolved where they are or originated somewhere else. Regan, consider this, how old do you think the earth is?"

  "I'm not sure. I think it's something like four or five billion years."

  "Bear with me a moment, humanoids have this tendency to blurt out numbers while suspending belief about how big they are. If you say them quickly you lose all sense of scale sometimes. Say it for me in millions will you please?"

  "Aaah, let's see, four thousand five hundred million years. What's your point?"

  "I won't ask you to say that number slowly but sometimes it really does help. Ok, when do your scientists think the conditions might have become right to sustain life?"

  "I'm guessing it took a long time?"

  "Ooooh yes! About one thousand million years."

  "So there's been life there for three thousand five hundred million years?"

  "Well, I wasn't around then of course, but even your own scientists say yes so we'll go with that. Now, what about when complex life forms appeared, in particular humans as we know you?"

  "Well - obviously humans appeared much later; Ham, what are you getting at?"

  "Would it surprise you to know that humans, according to the fossil records, appeared only around two hundred thousand, not million, two hundred thousand years ago?"

  "Again, your point is?" said Regan, getting frustrated.

  "My point is Regan, humans have only been around according to you for two hundred thousand years of the three thousand five hundred million years the Earth has sustained life! So we're only talking a very, very small fraction of that total time span. And on top of that your recorded history in that enormous time period is only around six thousand years. Yet humans, and from my experience humanoids generally, have this amazing ability to talk in absolutes. They'll say, it was like this, we've been here this long, and we descended from this. You're so definite about everything and yet you've only been around a few thousand years in the scheme of things. How do you know that in the other three thousand three hundred million years there haven't already been several phases of human development that were mostly wiped out, or they left, or came in several different migrations that didn't make it, or . . ."

  "I get the picture." Regan interrupted Ham's flow.

  "Well, you see my point." He wasn't finished. "The size of this galaxy alone is beyond comprehension, the numbers too long to speak out loud and our Galaxy is only one of numerous, possibly infinite galaxies, which is also way too much for a tiny mind to comprehend. Three thousand three hundred million years is really a very small number and yet it is way beyond your comprehension when the events of a single lifetime seem so full. All I can tell you with confidence is that when our entire known history, yours and Marin's, amounts to less than . . . well it's so little; then it's ridiculous to suggest that everything about your development or origins is known."

  "I get it. So even Marin's people don't know theirs?"

  "Correct. . . . we'll be underway again soon, do you want to watch?"

  Regan cocked her head. "Seriously? I think I'll go and finish with Marin but before I go I did want to ask, where is it that we're going?"

  "We're going to a star system you know as Gliese 667. It's a triple star system in the constellation of Scorpio . . . mean anything to you?"

  "I'm not an astronomer."

  "So that's a no then?"

  Regan smiled. "It's good to have you back Ham. I'll leave you to your work."

  Regan made her way down to the Medlab still chewing over the things Ham had talked about. The discussion about origins hadn't thrown her too much. She prided herself on an open mind; in fact it was important to her. Coming up with new ideas means thinking outside the box and the last thing she wanted was to become locked up in her thinking. Considering this she stopped for a moment outside the door.

  Shit, she thought, I'm now a living backup hard drive and a walking wireless router, all powered by a solar panel in my head. This is a good one for 'what I did on my holidays'.

  Entering the Medlab Regan quickly got down to her routine. With every passing day she'd become more concerned about Marin's condition. It was almost a month since the accident and he seemed to be wasting away in front of her. This, despite the drip which Ham assured her carried all the nutrients he required. Over the last two weeks she had daily massaged his legs, arms
, back, neck and shoulders, anywhere she felt he would need to keep movement. Raising each leg in turn she would lean her weight against the knee bending it up against his body, trying to stretch the hamstrings. She'd rotate the ankles and stretch the calves to simulate something like leg work.

  Having no real experience she'd also searched the ship data for anything on dealing with patients in a coma. It had been some help. Today however, she found her mind drifting with so many things from her discussion with Ham rolling through her mind. Regan slipped easily into auto pilot, beginning with Marin's shoulders and neck. The silky slick oil was wonderful to use and she gently worked her hands into muscle and sinew stroking, massaging, working.

  She often talked to him as she worked, hoping that Marin might hear and understand. She told him about her life and the challenges of the last few years though Ham was far from encouraging about her doing so. He thought it was strange and would point out regularly that there were no changes in Marin’s brain activity, or his pulse rate was unchanged or he would simply rib her that she was talking to herself. Ham was too practical for Regan by far so she continued talking while she worked regardless.

  Having completed his upper body, Regan as usual moved to his feet, spending time manipulating his toes, the movement of the ankle joints and massaging each sole. Then one by one she took a leg, bent it at the knee and leant her weight there, stretching the hamstrings and gluteus, before returning them to the bed and massaging his quadriceps. Without realizing it she took more time in the process, distracted by her thoughts. Eventually there were only the adductors on the inner thigh to finish. Beginning with the left leg she stroked upward from the knee to the groin then back again.

  Suddenly she stopped, "Ham?"

  "That's . . . interesting . . ." he replied

  "Do your readings tell you anything?" she asked, fully alert now. Her eyes were fixed on Marin's groin, he was clearly semi erect.

  "Apart from that there's nothing I can see from the readings."

  As she stood there frozen, with her hands raised as if under arrest, she could see the partial erection was quickly subsiding. "What do I do?" she asked.