“No!” yelled Damien, “I’m fresh out of warp engines.”
Nerr’ath nodded, “I figured as much. The leap to FTL is quite difficult, especially without help, which, again, is part of why I am here. You see, Damien, I am a criminal, convicted of treason against the entire Galactic Confederation because I opposed the law that now threatens your species’ existence.” She looked at Coleman and smiled. “We have artificial constructs on my planet as well and I engaged mine to seek out all planets within our galaxy that would likely host sentient life. To each of those exoplanets I seeded technology that could help native species develop FTL capabilities.” Nerr’ath gestured toward the dais. “For that crime, I was sentenced to death, by high-council members who sat in the chairs you see above us. One of those council members was my father. He convinced the others to commute my sentence to stasis. I would be placed in permanent cryo-sleep unless future events proved my opposition to CDA 2842 correct.”
“What’s CDA 28—” began Damien but Coleman interrupted.
“I suspect it is the legal mechanism her civilization used to purge sentient life from planets such as ours.”
“Quite right,” replied Nerr’ath. “CDA 2842 stands for Confederation Diaspora Act of 2842, which is the year it was passed. There had been many galactic wars prior to this resolution being enacted and each of them were initiated by young species who had not learned to travel faster-than-light until long after they first learned to split the atom. Our own AI agents determined that any species not capable of FTL within one-hundred years of developing artificial nuclear fission, represented a clear and present danger to the Confederation.”
“So, you guys just killed them? Wiped them out without warning?” asked Damien. Nerr’ath nodded and he whispered, “My God, how many?”
“Trillions of lives, lost,” she said then gestured again to the dais, “An unconscionable fact I raised in this very room during my trial. The councilors argued that hundreds of trillions more lives would have been lost from wars the CDA prevented.”
“Clearly, you disagreed,” said Coleman.
Nerr’ath gave a decidedly human snort. “Clearly, I did, which is what brings us to this moment. I am in deep cryo-sleep and you have forty-one years to demonstrate FTL capabilities. Failing that, my pod will deploy a human-killing pathogen, then repeal my sentence commutation by sending the stasis pod into this system’s yellow-dwarf star.”
“It is highly likely we will fail,” said Coleman. “Damien Howard is the only human with both the resources and intelligence to successfully complete such an endeavor. He has several genetic mutations that enabled both an abnormally long life and improved synaptic function. Despite these evolutionary advantages, I project he will die before being able to complete a working FTL drive.”
Nerr’ath looked troubled. “How long would developing such a drive take given his personal and extended capabilities?”
Coleman frowned. “I’d estimate seventy years, but he will be dead long before that.”
“For fuck’s sake, Coleman,” hissed Damien, “You just refuse to turn on those empathy routines don’t you? I’m right here and you are talking about me being dead like I’m a potted plant.”
Coleman looked down with affected embarrassment, “I am sorry, sir. I have tried to use the empathy routines, but they make me prone to error and I do not like making mistakes.”
“Well, you are going to need to learn, because I’m not putting up with you being such a dick for the next seventy years.”
“Your optimism is admirable, sir, however, I suspect you have less than forty-five years left so—” the AI paused and stared first to his creator, then Nerr’ath. “this would be another example of where my empathy routines could assist me?”
The alien xenologist nodded pleasantly and Damien gestured to her. “See, she gets it, and she’s just an avatar. I’m telling you, turn them on. Now, Coleman.”
“I may be able to help decrease the time estimate provided by your AI,” said Nerr’ath. “There is a reason why the decryption key was so complex. You did find it complex, did you not?”
“Exceedingly complex,” interjected Coleman, “After I discovered it, Dr. Howard spent the first two years barely eating or sleeping, while cutting off most ties to friends and business. I feel horrible now, thinking about how he suffered.” Tears welled in the AI’s eyes and Damien smiled sheepishly toward Nerr’ath.
“That empathy routine is going to need a bit of tweaking, but we’ll get it there. Now, what about the encryption?”
“It was necessary because once decrypted, my avatar is authorized to divulge the location of the seeded technology I referenced earlier. That cache of advanced technology was deployed in advance of my pod arriving in your system. It will have secured itself in a remote section of your planet where it would not be discovered absent someone having decrypted my interactive avatar.”
Damien felt the faintest stirring of hope and asked, “What kind of technology are we talking about?”
Nerr’ath’s tongue slipped out and flickered several times, “The kind of technology that gets the daughter of a High Councilor sentenced to death…FTL prototype drives, weapons systems, defensive systems, artificial gravity systems, advanced medical nanites—” she paused, “Shall I go on? I do have a complete manifest.”
Damien grinned at her, then turned to Coleman. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves an adventure. Let’s call it Indiana Jones and the Lost Alien Treasure. What do you say, Coleman, can you keep me alive long enough to dig it up and save the planet?”
The AI wiped at his eyes as another string of tears slipped down his cheeks. “It is highly unlikely, sir, and I’m afraid I will miss you terribly when you inevitably die in some remote locale.”
Damien Howard shook his head, then focused back on Nerr’ath. “Ignore him. I’m definitely going to tweak his empathy algorithms. In the meantime, I’m recording this VR session, so please provide the exact coordinates to that cache of extraterrestrial goodies.”
“Coordinates stored,” sniffled Coleman and the VR session ended.
Chapter 2
Death of a Titan
Charlotte Omandi glanced down at her hand terminal, then back up at the wide screen display that dominated her home office wall. Damien Howard’s name appeared on both, but for two very different reasons. The widescreen news feed crawled with the words 2045: Death of a Titan in large red letters. The text on her hand terminal, while much less dramatic, had far greater impact. It read, simply, Damien Howard calling. Charlotte slid her finger along the glass while absently noting the icon indicating the connection was using an encrypted link.
“Hello?” she said softly.
“Ms. Omandi?” came a crisply pleasant voice.
“Yes?”
“Wonderful. Ms. Omandi, my name is David Coleman and I represent the interests of Doctor Damien Howard.” Charlotte blinked then glanced back to her wall display. It had shifted to depicting major events in Damien Howard’s life while the crawl began estimating the value of his estate. Coleman continued and she looked back down at the terminal. “Doctor Howard would very much like to have you come to his offices at your earliest convenience.”
Charlotte shook her head slightly. “But, he’s dead.”
“Of course, Ms. Omandi, but his enterprises live on as do my responsibilities to him. Doctor Howard made it very clear to me that you were to be conveyed to Howard Technologies within hours of his death.” Charlotte continued to try and grasp the situation and muted her office display. She frowned. The rumbling sound she thought had been coming from the display had only grown louder. Her eyes widened as a shadow blocked the sunlight from streaming through the floor length windows of her penthouse condominium. “Ms. Omandi,” asked Coleman cheerily, “are you all right? If you are concerned about packing a bag, I assure you that will not be necessary. I will arrange for any sundry items you may—”
“David,” interrupted Charlotte, “it is David isn
’t it?”
“Yes, but I prefer Coleman.”
Charlotte cocked her head at the hand terminal, but said, “Fine, Coleman. I have a keynote presentation to give in less than an hour and, beyond that, I do not believe there are any immediate flights between Kenya and Atlanta that would get me to your offices.”
“Not to worry, Charlotte.” Coleman paused, then added, “I’m sorry if that was presumptuous, do you mind if I call you Charlotte?”
“Um, well—”
“It’s just that Doctor Howard has spoken so often of you that I feel I know you.”
“He did? What? Why would he?” she asked in a flurry.
“Oh, yes, he would often go on and on about you and the others, but I get ahead of myself. Charlotte, we have taken the liberty of obtaining a sabbatical for you from the University of Nairobi and I believe our Jump-Jet has just touched town on your building’s helipad. I expect that a Howard Technologies associate will be knocking on your door any—” Charlotte nearly dropped her hand terminal as a polite, but insistent, tapping could be heard from her condo’s foyer. “What the hell?” she murmured as she moved toward the door and peeked through the viewfinder. A late twenty-something woman with shoulder-length, dark brown hair stared back. She seemed to be dressed in some kind of flight suit and stood beside a lean caucasian man with thinning gray hair. He smiled at Charlotte through the viewfinder and gave a small wave. “That’s me,” said Coleman from the hand terminal.
“Who’s you?” asked Charlotte.
“Me, me. That’s me, the one who just waved to you from the other side of the door. Would you mind letting us in?”
Charlotte glanced absently at the foyer mirror. She smiled at the bemused dark-skinned woman whose hazel-green eyes stared back at her. Omandi fluffed her short hair, and hastily tried to adjust the tight curls into a more manageable shape.
She tapped the panel beside her door and it slid open. The young brown-haired woman stepped in first and scanned the room with military efficiency. It was only then that Charlotte noticed she was armed. Coleman stepped through a moment later and gestured to the hand terminal. “You won’t need that,” he said, and his voice began to echo as it created a feedback loop with the small device. Charlotte slid her finger across the disconnect button then tried to tap Coleman with a finger. Her hand went through his chest and the figure wavered for a moment before coalescing again.
She squinted at him. “You’re a hologram. A really good hologram. Level four?”
Coleman smiled. “Level six, well, six-beta to be exact, but I’m glad you approve. It’s not a physical body, but Damien promises me he’s still working on that. I’m estimating he’ll have one for me before the end of next year, unless—”
“Unless he dies,” said Charlotte with far less tact than she intended. She was about to apologize when the surreal nature of her situation reasserted itself and she felt her temperature rise. Omandi was about to lay into Coleman, but his expression brought her up short. He stared at her with such confusion that she just shook her head and said, “What? Coleman, why are you looking at me that way?”
“Hmm, oh, apologies Charlotte. It’s just very exciting to finally meet you. I suppose it’s inevitable that the actual meeting is a bit disappointing given how much my expectations had built up over the decades.”
“Over the…” began Charlotte, then sputtered, “Wait, what? I’m a disappointment?”
“A bit, yes?” replied Coleman. “Damien is certain you have the perfect blend of intelligence, charisma, and constitution to lead his great mission. He’s never been wrong on anything this important before, so the fault must be my own. Still, I don’t see how you, of all people, would think—” Coleman stopped as the woman returned holding a small case.
“Room’s secured, Coleman. I’ve wiped all the security footage for the past hour. As you suspected, there were several unauthorized recording devices installed as well. I’ve disabled those and destroyed their data cache. They didn’t transmit anything. Our jamming signal prevented the devices from initiating cloud communications.” The woman eyed Charlotte and her expression turned sly, “However, the captain here, triggered a failsafe alarm from her hand terminal. The door lock has been reinforced with three titanium core bolts.”
Coleman gave Charlotte a pleasant smile. “Now why would you do that, Ms. Omandi?” Before she could reply, he turned back to the woman. “Misha, can you open the door, despite the safeguards?”
“Excuse me, Captain,” said Misha as she nudged her way past Charlotte and slammed one hand through the sheetrock surrounding the condo’s front door. Misha took several breaths then heaved. The door twisted on its hinges and pulled loose from the frame. The woman gave Coleman a wink. “They cut corners. The security rods were titanium, but they embedded themselves into plain old concrete. Nothing to it.” Misha gestured to the now open door and locked her eyes with Charlotte. “After you, Captain.”
“I’m not going with either of you. Are you insane? Why do you keep calling me Captain?” She paused then glared at Coleman, “And what the hell do you mean I’m a bit of a disappointment? Fuck you. Get out of my house.”
Misha smirked and gave Colman a nod of approval. “I like her.”
The AI hologram ignored the young woman and sighed at Charlotte. “I did hope this would be easier than it has turned out to be. Damien warned me and I bet him you would come willingly. I really should stop betting him. He always wins you know.”
“He’s dead!” yelled Charlotte and gestured back toward her living room. “Did you not see the big red Death of a Titan message. Dead. D-E-A-D. Damien Howard isn’t winning any more bets. He doesn’t care if I come to his offices in Atlanta. He’s dead.”
“And that, Ms. Omandi, is why you are a bit of a disappointment,” said Coleman. “A man like Damien Anson Howard does not let a little thing like death get in his way.”
Misha nodded in agreement then whispered conspiratorially to Coleman. “She’s still not going to come willingly. You do see that, don’t you?”
He sighed again. “Yes, Lt. Sokolov, I do see that. Very well, we’ll go to plan b.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “What’s plan b?”
In one fluid motion, Misha unholstered a strangely shaped hand weapon and pointed it at her. Charlotte Omandi saw a bright blue flash and her whole body felt like it was on fire for a moment, then she slipped into darkness. She felt strong hands hoist her into a fireman’s carry as the remaining vestiges of awareness left her. The last thing she heard was Coleman’s voice. “That, my dear Captain, is plan b.”
Charlotte wrinkled her nose. The scent of lavender filled the air. She slowly opened one eye. They felt so heavy. Charlotte rubbed her hand along the thickly padded arm of the leather chair in which she lay.
“Keep your feet on that ottoman for a few minutes,” said someone to her left. Charlotte slowly tilted her head toward the voice. The woman winked at her. “You got tased. Well, not tased exactly, but near enough so that the distinction makes no difference. Here, drink this, it will help.” Misha walked over and brought a large cup from the nearby table. She bent the straw to Charlotte’s mouth. Sokolov frowned. “Come on now, Captain, if Doctor Howard wanted you dead, you’d be dead. This is an enhanced electrolyte solution along with a mild stimulant. I call it Sokolov’s Surprise. Trust me, you’re going to need that big brain of yours working when you meet him.”
“Who?”
The woman arched an eyebrow. “I just told you who. Doctor Howard.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, who are you?”
“Oh, you don’t remember me. Sorry, that’s my bad. I forget the electrical current often wipes out a few short-term memories. Take a sip and I’ll tell you.” Charlotte sighed, but leaned forward slightly and took a long pull from the offered straw. She blinked and locked her eyes on the woman as her entire body started to buzz. “I’m Misha,” replied the woman, her lips quirking up, “and I told you my special cocktail w
ould make you feel better.”
“Misha?”
“Yes, Misha Sokolov. I’m in charge of security. Hopefully, I’ll be in charge of security,” she paused meaningfully, “for you.”
Charlotte took another long drink, then nodded to the young woman who pulled the cup back and rested it on the end table. “You,” began Charlotte incredulously, “are in charge of security?”
Misha frowned. “Well, I didn’t expect that kind of prejudice from as distinguished a woman as yourself, Ms. Omandi. I’m not as young as I look and, trust me, my being a woman hasn’t stopped me from kicking every man’s ass I’ve had to. Besides,” she smoothly slid the strange looking weapon from its side holster, “I prefer shooting threats rather than punching them.”
Charlotte chuckled softly. “It’s not that. I just find your uniform…I assume that is some kind of uniform…a bit ironic.”
Misha glanced down at the red tunic that was belted over her black pants, and laughed. “Yeah, now I get you. I’d never heard of Star Trek when Doctor Howard first came to me. I still hadn’t watched any of it when I was first issued this uniform. He has a wicked sense of humor, that guy. Finally, I sat down and streamed some of those old television shows and realized he had dressed me up like some,” she made air quotes, “red-shirt.” Misha shook her head slightly as she recalled the memory. “He and his little AI hologram Coleman had a big laugh at my expense.” She shrugged and plucked at her tunic. “Still, this shit is the thinnest ballistic kevlar known to man. It can also disperse the effects of energy weapons, not that anyone has energy weapons but us. Still, they might have ‘em. Anyway, I’m hoping you change the dress code, but if I have to play a bit of nerd-dress-up to get good gear, Captain, I’ll take that deal every time.”
Paradigm 2045- Trinity's Children Page 2
