Spinward Fringe Broadcast 0: Origins

by Randolph Lalonde

  I took both her hands in mine. “Whatever it is, it won't put me off.”

  She shook her head. “We'll see. I won't blame you if you feel differently.” She took a deep breath and went on. “My mother and I are from Downe Colony. She was exiled for having me genetically modified past regulated tolerances.”

  I had heard something about that. The rumour that tens of thousands of people were exiled from that British Colony for illegal genetic engineering and that not a year later there was a massive influx on Freeground of immigrants, mostly skilled and middle to upper class, from British colonies. It was a well known conspiracy theory. I held onto her hands more tightly. “I don't care.”

  “Oh, you will,” she said, pulling one of her hands free to wipe her tears away. “It's true. Almost all of us were engineered to learn faster, live longer.”

  “There's no crime in that. We eliminate disease and enhance performance in the earliest stages of pregnancy on Freeground. It's standard practice.”

  “But they impose limits on how much you can do. Too much modification leads to problems. But Downe Colony researchers were certain they found a new tolerance level, a way to modify more with less risk. They gave my group all the enhancements you'd expect, but they also enhanced us to be more physically appealing, chemically and visually, and to stay looking younger longer. It worked, but they didn't account for all the effects.”

  “Manos disease.”

  “You've heard of it.”

  “Yes, but I don't know much about it.”

  “Well, most of the children diagnosed with it were dead by the time they turned ten. The rest, a few thousand of us left now, suffer from systemic degradation. Some get sores, lose their sight, have other nervous system damage, or suffer from gradual organ failure like me. I need deep regenerative treatments so I don't just rot away on the inside. So yes, I go to medical weekly, and yes diabetes is just a symptom of a bigger problem.”

  “Do problems like this come up often?”

  “No, but when they do, they range from minor inconvenience to several days in medical, having a transplant or serious long term treatment. They don't happen too often, every few years, but there are other things that result from my mother's choice to have me enhanced. I can't have children of my own. One of the conditions of Freeground taking us in when I was a baby was sterilization.”

  “You thought that if I knew I would treat you differently? You know I won't.”

  “There's more to it. A lot of us turned out just the way we were supposed to, the enhancement worked more than half the time. The positive enhancements, some of which I enjoy, come with different problems.”

  I knew exactly what she was talking about and simply nodded as the realization dawned on me.

  “I know you noticed. Everyone does. The researchers and doctors focused on increasing our general appeal and removing any negative aspects. We are engineered to be charismatic, from pheromones to high cheek bones I was made to look beautiful, and the people who we meet can be divided right down the middle between the half that resent us and the others that want us for all the wrong things. The stigma that follows us around changes how everyone looks at us. They either think we're diseased or so enhanced that we're cheating.”

  For once I knew exactly what to say. “But before I ever knew what you looked like I was crazy about you. That hasn't changed,” I whispered.

  “It will. It should. It's one of the reasons why we're all out here.”

  I was dumbstruck.

  “I'm not supposed to know. The doctor is the line of communication to Freeground. He reports straight to Intelligence. He's a friend of my mother's, but she didn't order him aboard. I don't know all the details, especially since she's not the one accountable for the First Light any longer. They removed her from command when they discovered that she had her eye on a Triad research station, one that no one has been able to find. She told me they're working on technologies that involve preserving life well past our current capabilities, beyond whatever we've seen. They knew that this would have something to do with me and everyone else who had Manos disease.”

  “So they thought she would use us for her own purposes. Why not scrub the entire thing after discovering her intentions?”

  “That's just it. She was still doing research. She didn't know if we could do anything about that Triad research station. She genuinely believed that you could accomplish your mission, to find new technologies and form new alliances, with the ship you were given and the crew that had signed on. After they decided Intelligence should be in direct command, things changed.

  “This ship was supposed to have more technology than she left with -- what exactly, I don't know -- but the description I heard of it was 'game changing'. As in something that would make the difference in any combat engagement or intelligence gathering scenario. Instead of installing that technology, whatever it was, my mother was removed from direct command of our mission. Intelligence held the technology back and must have ordered Doctor Anderson on board.”

  “So they kept us on mission but invested fewer resources and didn't trust us nearly as much.”

  “There's more to it. I suspected that Doctor Anderson was this ship's handler, and yesterday I got proof. When the refit was finished I caught him communicating through the station to Freeground Intelligence. They have an agenda all picked out for us. I don't know what it is, but they were waiting for us to reach a pre-set goal.”

  “And you were going to tell me this when?” I asked with a smirk.

  “The morning meeting,” she said with a shrug. “I would have left the part about me being a genetic freak out of it, mind you.”

  I caressed her face, still damp from tears. “You're still my genetic freak, right?”

  She laughed for a moment, sniffed then sighed. “Of course.”

  “Feel better?”

  She nodded. “I'm sorry I didn't trust you.”

  “Well, now you know you can,” I pulled her into my arms for a moment. She felt smaller somehow, and even though I had told her nothing would change, I knew it had. I felt the need to protect her, to fix her, even though I knew she had the strength and intelligence to do that for herself.

  “We had better get to that message. The doctor knows someone was eavesdropping. Besides, we don't want the crew thinking we wanted the room to ourselves for another reason entirely,” she whispered before a light kiss.

  We parted and she turned to play the recorded message but I stopped her. “Wait, I think I want the entire senior staff to hear this.”

  “Full disclosure?”

  “May as well. We can keep your condition under wraps -- that's not a problem -- but I'd say if this message regards our mission out here, the senior staff should know about it.”

  “Jason and I thank you. He has exactly the same condition I do, only the problems are less advanced.”

  “I wouldn't have guessed. I won't tell him you informed me.”

  “Don't worry, he keeps it quiet. He just told Laura, but I'm positive you knowing wouldn't bother him. Give me a few minutes before you let anyone in,” she said as she turned and strode off to the bathroom. “I have to freshen up.”

  “You look fine.” I replied as I picked up the mug she had brought for me. The smell of dark roast coffee was a welcome comfort.

  “Maybe for someone who took an emotional roller coaster ride as soon as they woke up. Even the enhanced need a touch up now and then,” she called over her shoulder before closing the door.

  Chapter 9

  Letters From Home

  When the senior staff entered the room there were smiles all around, including Ayan and myself. She sat at one end of the table while I stood at the door leading from Observation One where everyone had been waiting for the meeting to begin.

  Oz was first, followed by Sergeant Ashbey and Lieutenant Nichols who were the off-shift bridge commanders. “Next time let a subordinate take the shot for you. That's what the chain of command is for,” he
said as he shook my hand and took a seat beside my end of the table.

  Minh was right behind with the new lead pilot for the First Light, Lieutenant Derek Gregor, who simply nodded. “Do they still have you drugged up?” Minh asked.

  “Just an anti-rejection series for a couple days. Nothing mood altering.”

  “Too bad, I kind of liked you all doped up.”

  Sergeant Jason Everin followed with two of his new communications staff, who were asking him questions about filtering combat communications. Sergeant Laura Compton returned and very quietly asked, “Is everything okay?” before going past me. I nodded reassuringly and she went on to sit beside Ayan.

  Lieutenant Gerald Burgess was there to represent medical. I knew he was an excellent physician, and his records as an infantryman were spectacular as well, but he looked a little awkward when I shook his hand before sitting down. “Doctor Anderson said he'd be in his quarters,” he said quietly.

  “I understand, please have a seat,” I invited.

  We all sat down and I started things off. “I haven't had a chance for an inspection yet, but I hear the refit is complete.”

  “It isn't the same ship. When everything is closed up and the guns are behind hatches, you can't even tell she's armed. The moment you open those fighter bays and roll out the guns, it's a completely different story,” Oz said as he brought up a hologram of the ship in the middle of the table. It rotated slowly, showing her sleek lines with all the armour in place, the weaponry put away.

  “We were able to restore all the stationary armour and exterior hatches, even the coverage for the ram scoops and engines which weren't restored with the last refit. When that was complete we closed the hull up and regenerated the ablative layer on the surface. If anything gets through our new energy shielding it'll have a lot to go through before it gets to us.

  Speaking of energy shielding, I'm happy to report that it's installed with multiple feeds from power systems. We now have primary, secondary and emergency shielding in place.” Laura pointed to each different system on the three dimensional model as she mentioned them. She looked at Ayan, who urged her to continue. “All the high power systems have emergency capacitors that operate the hatches and can maintain a constant rate of fire for fifteen minutes or more if they're disconnected from the main power supply. It will also maintain a discreet energy shield for at least ten minutes.

  Energy distribution efficiency around the ship has increased by twelve percent without the assistance of the molecular quantum core, the crew quarters have been repaired and refurnished using captured as well as purchased fixtures, and the new bridge is complete. It's just in front of engineering control and has two elevator shafts that can shuttle officers between the fighter bay, medical, and engineering.

  “I regret to report that I haven't finished reproducing the new command uniforms. Radiation leakage is still a problem as I try to miniaturize some of the components to fit seamlessly in the layers of the material, but I have found another use for the cloaking technology.”

  She brought an image up on the holoprojector in the middle of the table. It was a fierce looking double barrelled turret. “This is an older style of torpedo launcher that was employed on this ship originally and discarded when her rail cannons were upgraded over a century ago. I've kept almost completely to the original design, except for the armoured loading mechanism, since there was no real reason to change it. This weapon fires long range, high speed torpedoes using a rail cannon mechanism that is large and low energy enough to not register when it is mounted close enough to a rail cannon. For our purposes, we've mounted two right behind rail turrets, and one right on top of our port engine.”

  The holographic image launched a torpedo in slow motion and the projectile disappeared. “I've applied the cloaking technology to ten high-yield, nine kilogram antimatter torpedoes so no sensor can detect them. Whereas radiation, space limitations and general safety may be important to someone wearing the cloaking technology, an antimatter torpedo doesn't much care. Ayan has approved the manufacture of eight more torpedoes, each having a shelf life of two years. We're marking these for demolition at the one year mark. I'm continuing my work on the command suits, but it'll be slow going. Freeground doesn't have all the technology that Triad did, and working at nano scale is taking longer than I thought.

  “We've been able to integrate the molecular quantum computer core from the Overlord. It will work in conjunction with our computer systems even though we can easily turn it on and off on a second’s notice if there are any problems. No Freeground ship this size -- even ten times her size -- has ever had that much calculating power, so we don't know exactly how to use all of it, but we'll find a way. Other than that, the ship is safer than ever, more well armed than ever, and she even looks better than ever,” Laura sat down with a smile. “With prep work done in hyperspace and the rest done in four days, I think everyone did a pretty good job.”

  One of Jason's communications crew started to applaud and stopped right away. “We don't clap,” Jason said, shaking his head.

  The comm officer, a dark haired young woman, shook her head. “No?”

  “Nope, we might want to, but not during meetings.”

  “Sorry sir.”

  “You can buy Laura a drink later.”

  “If there was ever a reason to applaud, I think we have one. I wonder how much time it would take the Freeground crews to finish a refit like that?” I asked, partially to lighten the moment and move things along.

  “Along with the repairs, I'd say about two weeks running round the clock. We didn't have to do anything with the quarters though. The crew you hired from the station did a fantastic job,” Ayan said. “I can't wait to move into my new Officer's quarters.”

  “You haven't already?”

  “The crew are waiting for you to perform the final inspection sir. The general sentiment is that they want to finish this refit by the book. I think they just want to show off their handiwork,” Oz said as he continued to look through personnel reports.

  “But they didn't work on the crew quarters.”

  “I think they just want to make sure you inspect the entire ship,” Minh put in. “My deck crews and fighter pilots are the same way. I don't think you'll be able to skip a single compartment.”

  “Well, at least I know what I'll be doing for my first day back on active duty,” I said with a chuckle. “You're up Sergeant Everin. What does communications have to report?”

  “Well, Zingara station authorities apologized for the level of access and appearance of cooperation the bounty hunters had during the incident, but would not make reparations until I informed them of your medical status. They also backtracked a little since they had only managed to apprehend two of the offenders. We were able to cite a few commerce laws and have our dry docking fees waived.”

  “That's almost worth getting shot for, only next time I'll fake it,” I commented and the people who laughed hardest were the few there that didn't know me well. They were surprised their captain had a sense of humour.

  Jason went on, “They seized the bounty hunters’ starfighters and other property, and sentenced both the bounty hunters to twenty days in Longshadow Penitentiary.”

  “It's a good thing the port authority got there before our interceptors were in range,” Minh interjected. “Our pilots managed to take out six of their ships before peace keepers cut it short.”

  “You're just lucky they didn't get any shots at the freighter we made off in. It wasn't exactly made for combat,” Ayan added.

  “Back on point,” Sergeant Everin interjected, drawing attention back to him, “as far as the station is concerned the matter is closed. We got a lot more out of it than they had to provide us with by law, I recommend we don't pursue any other action.”

  “I know if I ever find those bounty hunters I'll make sure they regret ever picking up our contract,” Derek said quietly.

  “Sergeant Everin is right,” I retorted. “The next
time we see anyone involved with this it will most likely be in another port. If we make the first move, even in retribution for what happened here, we'll be on the wrong side of the law. Mark this incident closed. If they or any other bounty hunters come after us we have to follow procedure.”

  “Right, the procedure for being under attack in a neutral port is pretty simple,” Oz added. “Contact your senior officer on the ship and then station security, both at the same time if possible. Report that you are being followed or are under attack. Provide them with all the information they need to assist you. That includes their description, where you are, where they are, where you first noticed them, where you're going and details of any communications you've had with them and any actions they have taken. Tactically you should find cover or surrender if cover isn't feasible. Our security teams will already be en route. The port law enforcement officers should be on the way as well, though that isn't always the case. After that point it's up to your senior officers, our security and legal teams to save your butt, so trust them and follow their instructions.”

  “Thank you Commander, you should send a copy of the most recent leave procedures to everyone. Is there anything else to report, Sergeant Everin?”

  “There has been a priority message from Freeground, marked as captain's eyes only. It arrived four hours ago, encoded for your bioprint,” He slid a copy of it across the table to me.

  I picked the small silver chip in my hand and looked at it for a moment. It was the size of my fingernail but it would change everything. The tension in the room had risen the instant I picked it up and what I was about to say wouldn't allay that, “This isn't as much of a surprise to me as some of you might imagine. We'll finish the business of the meeting then there is another message that will most likely be a good primer for whatever Freeground has in store for us.” The expressions around the table were expectant, anxious. “So, what does medical have to report?”

  Lieutenant Gerald Burgess cleared his throat and stood up. “Upgrades are all complete. We now have eight more emergency beds that stow away until they're needed, local inertial dampeners are operating at peak efficiency and will hold everyone within the medical area steady even while the rest of the ship is being tossed. We have four more long-term stasis tubes, giving us a total of twelve. All but minimal medical staff have been put on rest since there are expected to be no more than two patients checking in today,” he reported clearly and officially.