Post contact first days, p.20
Post Contact: First Days, page 20
Both men flinched involuntarily as they crossed the shoreline; there was a flash of golden sandy beach, then the sea was gone, and the craft continued cruising close above the deep green of jungle treetop canopy. Rising and falling to reflect the changing topography of the land beneath.
Kingston returned to the LPA to review the course and had just reported they would cross the coast of the Caribbean when, as quickly as it had come, the green was left behind, and they were out over water again. Almost immediately, the craft dipped close to the sea level, did what it did, and rose again, now driving north and east. Crossing the Caribbean toward the Atlantic.
Chapter 57. Squadrons Prepare to Fold
Jamie stood on the bridge of his Leviathan S-3. It was the last in line, and from his vantage point, he could look forward to see the three-squadron fleet stretched out in a perfectly spaced diagonal formation ahead. From Base Primo, it was little more than half a day’s journey to reach the point where craft could safely enter the Fold. This journey had taken longer while the fleet devoted time to practise joint manoeuvres en route.
Today was a new experience for all involved. Everyone felt some degree of anxiety about the Fold, but it was balanced with the excitement of travelling into an entirely new future.
Leviathans O-1, O-2, and O-3 led the fleet. Dower’s Orion Squadron were not folding but were attending to observe the process, everything was being learnt on the hoof, so every opportunity had to be exploited.
Jamie was approached by Sparks, the work name gifted to every craft’s communication officer. ‘Sir, a signal from S-1. “Brigadier Smith-Brown wishes all craft and crews of Sagittarius Squadron a bon voyage. Enter the Fold in sequence, in your current formation.”’
‘Thank you, Sparks. Acknowledge that message and pass all S-3’s best wishes to the brigadier and the whole squadron,’ said Jamie.
‘Very good, sir,’ said Sparks. Then he set off, back to the ‘comms control room’ – S-3’s expansive, equipment-heavy communications centre. The comms control led off the LPA navigation room which, as for most of the larger craft designs, was formed as a separate workroom immediately behind the Leviathan’s bridge.
Sparks roughly understood the gravcom system they were using right now, how it agitated the gravity gradient lines to carry messages along and across them, much as the craft was itself powered via the gravdrive.
Already inside comms control was Ossie, S-3’s lead scientist. Dressed in a sleeveless white coat, his tousled hair growing over his collar. He looked up from his work and gave a terse nod of acknowledgement as Sparks entered. Ossie was faced with a myriad of tasks. His job of the moment was to get a handle on how the various comms systems worked once they were in the Fold.
Like so much, it was learn as you go. They already knew none of the remote sample ships sent radio messages back to Base Primo from the Fold. Weeman had explained that radio signals were too slow and nothing so fleeting as a radio signal could cross the boundary between regular and folded space. They used homing buoys or beacons to report back to Primo.
It had been Steph who had delved further into the process. “Old school” she’d called it.
Ossie laughed to himself again as he thought of the anachronistic technique. Very old. Message in a bottle old.
At given intervals the folded craft would release a homing buoy replete with miniaturised folddrive. It returned to a pre-designated Lagrange point beyond Planet Nine. There it would transmit the folded craft’s position and then fall silent, waiting to be collected along with hordes of other waiting buoys, all eventually to be reloaded into other sample craft for reuse.
Chapter 58. Base Primo
Together, Steph and Weeman stepped off the travelator as it passed through a broad chamber. It had been the longest journey she had made into the bowels of the base. They were in a part that none of her teams had yet reached. Throughout this journey, she had been torn between what Weeman was telling her and the levels of data she could now access using her upgraded suit. She could tell from only the briefest of investigation that it would open many new horizons for her.
They crossed the chamber toward a plain wall; remarkable because the outline markings of a doorway appeared as they approached. No markings had been visible from a distance.
‘This door outline was invisible until we reached it. What’s this about?’ said Steph, reaching her hand out to touch the markings.
‘Only those wearing a suit that has access permissions like your new one can access doors such as this,’ said Weeman.
‘How exactly does it work, and why?’ she said.
‘You will find other such accessways as you explore the base. The door scans those in the vicinity and displays only in the presence of individuals with the correct level security permissions.’ He swept one hand dramatically across his forearm. ‘Come,’ he said, as the door slid open. ‘There are things stored here that must be shared with you.’
‘What is this place?’ she said.
Beyond the doorway, Steph hesitated. For the first time within Base Primo, she was confronted by a space that was not well lit. Dim emergency lights showed at intervals into the distance.
Weeman sensed her concern and gave a little laugh. ‘It’s okay, come on. The lighting controls will activate – they just need a moment to update.’
‘Update?’ she said, following him across the threshold. Another first, the air was musty. And another: unlike all the other internal accommodation doors, she noticed the edge of the door that had slid aside to admit them was several inches thick, much more akin to the hangar and berthing bay doors.
‘Nothing has moved in this corridor for many years; it’s been dormant a long time.’
‘Wow, are you sure it’s safe to enter?’
‘Of course. Don’t worry about the air, like the lights it will refresh soon enough.’
‘If it’s so old and unvisited, how have you managed to store things here?’
Weeman turned his head and gave a little grin. ‘As I told you earlier, there are many things still to share and little time left to do so.’
‘Well, perhaps you’d better start now.’ Steph threw a glance behind her as the door slid shut, enclosing them in the half-light.
Weeman stepped out confidently, and as Steph made to follow, work-a-day lights began flickering into action, banishing the gloom. The air around her began to move as the now active system detected stale air and responded accordingly. Falling into step with Weeman, he led her further into the unknown. The chambers they passed to left and right contained arrays of the familiar LPAs, all dulled and lifeless.
Steph was suddenly startled by movement, lots of movement. Then she laughed to herself. A convoy of bots had emerged from wherever they had been roosting and was proceeding along the corridor toward them. As the column advanced, they sucked and swept to remove the fine film of dust that had settled across everything. At each doorway the convoy passed, one or two bots peeled off to commence cleaning the side chambers. The routine familiarity of the task brought her back to the normality of life on Base Primo.
‘Weeman, what is this place? Why leave sharing it until now?’
‘In here,’ said Weeman, turning into a chamber. It was every bit as big as the main control room she was familiar with. However, this was still illuminated by only a smattering of emergency lights.
This room too was dominated by a giant LPA, another Goliath, and surrounded by a rank of smaller versions. Unlike the one she knew, this giant did not flicker and glow with billions of light points. It was dull, all shadows and greys. A few flickers of light penetrated from deep in the murk, like distant sheet lightning seen reflected within clouds.
‘You have a second control room. Why? And this Goliath is displaying differently from the other one. Why’s that?’
‘It’s almost identical. But it’s been dormant a long time and will take a while to fully update and activate. In a little while, it will start to look as you would expect.’
‘Okay. But why a second control room anyway?’
‘Questions later. For now, come and see this.’
‘Stop! Weeman, this is all very exciting, but I need to know something right now; what you said is illogical. You said you have stored things here that I need to see. You also said nobody has been here; it’s been dormant for a long time. How are there things stored for me in a dormant tunnel? Please explain now, otherwise everything else is just without context.’ Steph had not moved to follow him; she folded her arms. ‘I’m waiting.’
He came back to her and stood in front of the great brooding LPA, its occasional flickers and flashes backlighting him eerily.
‘I … we, my people, are not like yours.’
‘You don’t say?’
‘I do. Given time and your new suit, you will be able to review materials previously withheld from you. It will take time, there are information layers – some you may not yet see since they can only be accessed in sequence. Just accept what I say – no questions for now please.’
‘You just keep talking,’ Steph unfolded her arms.
‘As I say, we are not like you. Not because of our different origins, though that can’t be denied.’ He raised a hand to cut off the question Steph was beginning to form involuntarily. ‘I have already told you that we were left here long ago to run the system until the others returned and that we have always been few in number.’
‘You have,’ Steph acknowledged and noticed that Weeman seemed to sway very slightly. She walked him across to one of the small LPAs and lifted him up to sit on it. She was struck by how light he was and how frail he felt, despite the supporting suit.
‘Thank you. As I say, we are not like you. I was able to store things here long in the past because I was here then.’
‘Don’t be silly, Weeman. No life can continue for that length of time.’
‘No, it can’t. You see, when my team and I were left long ago, we had the technology to clone.’
‘You’re a clone? Never! How can that be? I don’t understand.’
‘We have the technology to replicate our physical bodies.’
‘I’m not even going to start asking about that now. But Weeman, replicate again; don’t just die on me – this is wonderful news.’
‘No, things … life is never that simple. With each replication, the new body gets weaker, less substantial, smaller too. You will be familiar with how each successive generation of a photocopy becomes less substantial, more blurred than its predecessor, until eventually, one generation becomes unusable, unreadable. That is where we find ourselves now. There is nothing left that can be replicated.’
Steph was crying. She hugged Weeman. He reciprocated.
‘Surely, one more time? We need you.’
‘No, we have invested many, many years trying to overcome the problem, but we are at the end of our line. For all my friends, whether perishing at Reahlagh or vanished in the Perseus Arm, we were all readying to expire, we are too diminished, quite unable to replicate again with even the slimmest chance of success.’
Steph pulled back a little. ‘Weeman, how do you transfer your mind? I don’t believe you can do a head transplant.’
He gave a little laugh. ‘No, nothing so gory. Over there, beyond the far wall is a room. It contains another LPA like this one, but even bigger, let’s go and see.’
Steph lifted him down and they crossed to the entranceway Weeman had pointed out. One that had no equivalent in the control room Steph was familiar with.
Passing through the door, they came upon another LPA. It was filled only with a deathly still grey. There were no flickers of light within. This was bigger even than the Goliaths. However, this room contained just one regular-sized LPA, positioned on the floor near one set of the corner steps that led up to the top of its giant brother.
‘Whoa, this is a real monster, Weeman.’ She took several steps closer, gazed up then glanced about the room. The perfect symmetry of the room was broken at the far end by what appeared to be a simple box.
‘This is the cloning transfer room. Redundant now, but I show you just so you will understand the root of our problem.’
‘This is what clones you?’
‘Not quite. Creation or growing of individual clones occurs in the next chamber. Come see the box.’ They crossed to the box and Weeman stroked his sleeve.
At once, the top half of the box became transparent. Steph realised she had misjudged this simple container. It was waist height, six feet wide and nine long, and it divided into three longitudinal sections. The central spine was occupied by equipment with pipes and cables feeding into the sections set to either side. She recognised these two side sections as body spaces or sarcophagi. The end of the box was adorned with an array of controls.
‘The cloning process itself is very protracted and complex, but here, at the final stage, it is reduced to simply activating the transfer. Once the new body has been produced, it’s placed in that body tube – sarcophagus. The old body enters the other. The mind from the old body is transferred into the big LPA. After a time, the mind consolidates within the tank and is eventually ready to download into the new body.’
‘That is impressive. Surely with this technology, we can do something?’ said Steph, more in hope than expectation.
‘There is nothing that can be done. The current version of my body is so degraded from its original that it cannot replicate again. It is over for me, and the time is very near.’
‘Weeman, I’m finding it hard to take on board what you’ve just told me; but I must. I need to ask, why did you bring me down here to show me something that can’t be used. It seems just painful.’
‘I haven’t brought you to see this. You wanted an answer to my mortality, and we were passing – it was convenient. Now we must see that which I brought you to see. Come.’ He linked arms with Steph, and the lopsided couple retraced their steps to the passageway. The bots had all gone now, and the ambient lighting was up to full. A travelator activated to one side, and they stepped on, riding for several minutes, travelling deeper still into the hidden complex. Finally, Weeman stepped off where the passageway let into a chamber.
‘I realise now I should have told you of this some time ago. I’m sorry.’
Steph followed him to a viewport set close beside a standard hangar access door. ‘What else have you been hiding, Weeman?’
Inside, the hangar was perfectly still. Stretching out along its length, long-darkened lights started to flicker back into life. One by one, they illuminated to sweep away the shadows and reveal a line of ten craft. They were smaller in size than the observer craft; lower, leaner, and every one coloured a uniform black. The fuselage of each carried markings that she had learnt to recognise as serial numbers. There were protrusions from the crafts’ noses and wings. She instinctively knew them for what they were – weapons. It was a war craft.
‘Oh, Weeman. Where did these come from?’
Chapter 59. White House, Bunker
‘Mr President, I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting,’ said the private secretary. He looked apologetically toward Senator Longthorn then back to the president. ‘It can’t wait, sir. The secretary of defense and secretary of state are outside; it’s urgent.’
A day and a half ensconced in the bunker had gradually become claustrophobic, it was morning though the president could hardly tell now, and his mood was strained. ‘I see, very well. They wouldn’t interrupt unless it was essential – send them in.
‘I’m afraid senator our meeting will have to end now.’
‘So it seems, Mr President. I hope it’s not that mess in Asia. I think we both know the root of what stirred up that hornet’s nest. Rest assured, I’m ready to step in and help pick up the pieces. I know you’ve given Dower some grace time before final handover but just say the word, I’ve taken steps and I’ll be more than happy to end that right now,’ said Longthorn, while closing his briefcase.
The president looked up as his closest advisers hurried into the office. They were followed by General Troy, the Chief of Staff, and the chiefs of the armed forces – navy, army, marines and air force. The generals looked at Longthorn, their expressionless faces by default concealing the distaste they felt for the man. Political power did not equate with popularity.
Longthorn didn’t care.
‘Perhaps you’d better stay, senator. Whether or not the root of the problem is the information sharing being demanded by other countries, it’s certainly a factor, so you should be here. We need to do anything, everything to avert escalation. Your views will be welcome.’
‘I’m only too happy to help, Mr President.’ Longthorn could scarcely conceal his eagerness to be seen to assert total control over his project.
‘Good, thank you,’ said the president, eyeing the growing number of people in the room.
Jane O’Brien looked at Senator Longthorn. ‘Are you sure the senator should be here, Mr President?’
‘I think it might save briefing time later if he can hear things from the outset.’
‘Very good, Mr President. If I may, I’ll launch right in,’ she said.
‘Please do, Jane.’
‘I’m afraid we are in meltdown. Neither the Indian nor Chinese governments have made fresh statements in the past hour, but our sensors have reported significant seismic events from the Tibet area of the Himalayas. Independent agencies have reported similar readings. And we have just received satellite imagery showing damage to roads and bridges in the Himalayan passes commensurate with what could be expected from detonation of low-yield tactical nuclear weapons.
‘This conclusion is supported by atmospheric measurements and some local radio chatter. Sadly, I have to confirm that nuclear weapons have now been used in the conflict. It’s escalating fast.’
