The incidence was hushed up while quietly, Universities started increasing the size of their research grants and endowments to those undertaking studies of newly discovered systems. Those who had heard of the incident and were working in the same field refused to do any more research without danger pay and comprehensive life insurance.
Some three hundred years later, a retro disco junkie, ironically named Andy Gibb, discovered the research material and set about turning his dream into reality. Andy’s dream was that he wanted to convert a asteroid into a giant disco ball. Sadly, the ludicrous amount of money required for such a ludicrous undertaking, was, quite frankly, ludicrous.
Andy had many supporters – that certainly wasn’t a problem as retro disco junkies numbered in their hundreds of thousands – it was backers with cash he needed. Fortunately for Andy, his discovery of the Raquin system research enabled him to combine practicality with his vision. Investors, sensing a new hot tourist spot, started pouring the money towards Andy in what would become a literal waterfall.
Advances in material science now enabled new composites to withstand, absorb, and even reflect up to and including the temperatures generated by a nova burst. The asteroid orbiting New Jupiter, by now named Fever, had its 50km diameter slowly covered in reflective panels designed to withstand anything the star could throw at them. Some of the panels were designed to absorb and store the once yearly energy output – thus effectively nullifying the running costs. Combined with powerful fields the asteroid was deemed to be invulnerable to the forces of the universe.
Despite using huge autonomous AI controlled construction vehicles, Andy’s dream was only realized after a further 12 years. The result was, to Andy and his multitudinous supporters, well worth it - a huge disco ball hanging in space.
Fever was an immediate success. Disco Junkies came from hundreds of light years away just to experience something from hundreds of years ago. The best time to arrive coincided with the once yearly nova burst. Viewed from a safe and prudent distance in space, Fever would reflect the light with its myriad panels, creating not only the illusion of a disco ball but putting on an impressive display for those fortunate (and stupid) enough to bear witness to it. Sadly, star ships weren’t built quite as robustly as Fever. In the two hundred odd years since the completion of the asteroid, some one hundred and forty odd souls had been lost whilst oohing and aahing at the spectacle.
With the nova burst only two days away, The Debacherous Weekend’s arrival coincided with Fever’s busiest time. The docking bay and immigration area was crowded with new arrivals, all completely, or partially in costume. Even the security guards were dressed in matching disco garb.
Although supporting a relatively large population of security personal, there was only one rule that was thoroughly enforced. Visitors and residents alike had to dress appropriately.
“What’s this?," said Felix bemusedly holding the black wig in his hand.
“Its an Afro stupid," replied Tarquin, slipping a wig over his bald pate.
“And I’m supposed to put this on am I?”
“No, you’re meant to eat it."
“Ha, ha, bloody ha.”
Felix, Tarquin, Logan, Crystal, the two transplanters and Walter were in the asteroid’s transitional area, getting themselves into costume. The Martians, looking slightly ridiculous with their wigs, white suits, platform shoes and medallions had departed sometime earlier. Felix was consoled by the fact that green, four foot humanoids with large bulging eyes, must look far more ridiculous than he. He looked down. His coverall, conforming to his wishes and the critical ones possessed by Fever’s notoriously fashion conscious customs officials, had morphed themselves into a white silk shirt and tight, white, flared flannel trousers and red platform boots. The hired wig, fake gold medallions and chest hair unfortunately completed the look.
“I look like an idiot," he said adjusting his testicles which were in danger of forming a cleavage in his tight trousers.
“That’s funny," replied Logan, “so do I.” Logan was dressed becomingly in tartan flared trousers, a long sleeved beige silk shirt and a brown waistcoat. Overlarge, half shaded sunglasses were perched below his Afro.
In front of Felix, Crystal was bending down, sprinkling AI controlled nanoparticles into her hair to put constantly moving bangs into it. The effect was as if she was standing in a gently blowing breeze. Her outfit consisted of a ludicrously short red mini skirt and a matching décolletage revealing tasseled top. He could see her G-string peaking out from beneath her skirt. He felt his loins stir at the sight, remembering the last 3 days of sexual pleasure aboard the Debacherous Weekend. Unfortunately his attention wavered and he caught sight of Walter. Walter had opted for the Las Vegas Elvis look. Whatever that meant. The tight suit on Walter’s bulges wasn’t the most attractive sight Felix had ever witnessed.
Bruce and Derek had settled for matching outfits of white flared leather. Felix decided that commenting on a Polar Bear and Gorilla wearing Afro wigs and sunglasses was a bad idea.
Fever’s customs officials, bored with cracking jokes at the new arrivals expense and looking down Crystal’s cleavage, waved them forward.
“How long to this Nova burst?," asked Felix.
“We’ve got two days," replied Tarquin.
“Long enough," said Crystal.
The three customs officials in their section, perhaps out of respect or more likely, whim, were dressed as the Gibb brothers from the Bee Gees. Felix would have missed this but for the fact they were wearing glowing neon labels.
One of them stepped forward. He had a beard, longish hair and half polarized sunglasses. “Anything to declare?," he inquired of the group in general with a smirk on his face and his eyes glued to Crystal cleavage.
“Bad taste," deadpanned Felix.
“What was that?." The custom official managed to tug his eyes away from Crystal and glare in Felix’s direction.
“Nothing." He heard Logan and Tarquin’s stifled laughter behind him.
The still glaring customs officials asked for, received, checked out and cleared the party’s various AI identification before allowing them to pass into the visitor arrival section.
Three figures carrying staffs and dressed identically in brown robes were waiting for them.
◊
The three days since departing the stricken Hedonist Space Liner had been spent pleasantly enough for Felix. After the last couple of weeks of running and being shot at by all and sundry, three days spent in relative comfort and safety of Tarquin’s ship had been a most welcome change. The fact that he’d spent most of that time ensconced in one of the state rooms doing unspeakable sexual things to Crystal had certainly helped.
His initial misgivings after finding that Crystal possessed Angel DNA had slowly faded as he’d spent more time in her company. His trust in her had grown proportionately to his growing excitement and relief knowing that he would soon hand over the Overdrive data to his employers and hopefully resume his own life.
The few times the two of them had surfaced for air, food, drink and vitamin supplements, he’d found Logan, Tarquin, Walter, the Transplanters and the Martians invariably drunk or well on the way to becoming so. The group of men had cheered mightily every time Felix and Crystal had entered the upstairs lounge.
Emerging out of Nospace three days later, the crew and passengers of the Debacherous Weekend found themselves in the Raquin system. Using the Ion drive for Inter system maneuvering, Tarquin inserted his ship into a high orbit around New Jupiter. An hour later, Fever came into view.
Felix had seen holos of Fever before and even experienced the VR effect of being caught in the semi-Nova whilst in Fever’s orbit. Actually seeing it first hand was an experience he wouldn’t have missed. Rays from Raquin’s sun glittered from a million reflective panels on the asteroid’s surface. Felix had accessed old footage from the disco era of Earth and so had an idea as to what a disco ball was. Fever looked amazingly similar – just on a va
stly larger scale. None of the other passengers aboard Tarquin’s ship had ever seen it first hand and were all suitably impressed. Walter was especially enthusiastic about visiting the fabled tourist resort.
“One of my ancient relatives danced with John Travolta," he gushed.
Confronted with blank looks, Walter blushed and buried himself in his gin and tonic.
After further maneuvering, they finally docked with the huge asteroid. Obviously, due to the once yearly sun burst, there was no way the designers would have had external docking, which would have damaged the symmetry and overall dramatic effect of Fever. Instead, a giant chamber had been carved into the outer layers of the asteroid. Disguised under reflective panels and provided with ample field protection, the designers boasted that no ship was better protected.
As the Debacherous Weekend received clearance and moved closer to the asteroid, one of the giant panels lifted up to reveal the comforting blue glow of a field guarding the main docking access. The ship glided through the field to find itself in a chamber easily 6 kilometers in diameter. Directed to a bay, the ship’s AI took over and set them down quietly with its AG.
Felix had felt relaxed and at ease throughout the whole process. Underlying that was the feeling of anticipation which occasionally sent a thrill running through him. Even going through the customs process didn’t dent his good mood. It wasn’t until he saw the robed figures that his misgivings and feeling of impending doom returned.
“Oh for fuck’s sake," he said aloud. “Not more religious idiot’s.”
Crystal spared him a sharp glance before running forward and warmly embracing the leader. Felix and the rest of the group walked up and waited while Crystal finished her reunion. Logan, Tarquin and Felix exchanged worried glances.
Finally, after embracing the other two robed figures – seemingly female judging by the way they filled out their robes -, Crystal turned towards Felix.
“Felix," she said with a happy grin, “it is my great pleasure to introduce Grand Shepherd Mattock. Grand Shepherd, this is Felix.”
The Grand Shepherd, a tall man with olive skin, brown eyes and dark hair streaked with silver stepped forward and held out his hand to Felix. Felix, more by reflex than by any conscious decision took the smiling man’s hand. It was firm and dry. A deeper, instinctive part of Felix’s mind felt comforted and vaguely reassured by the shepherd’s grip. Another part told him to leg it.
“Its a great pleasure to meet you young man," said the smiling Grand Shepherd. “We’ve heard so much about you and were deeply distressed to hear of the incident at Nebula Inc.” His smile changed to a look of sorrow. “All those staff, yourself included, were chosen by me you know.”
Felix was a bit lost for a moment. “You mean to tell me," he said when he finally regained the power of speech, “that I work for you?." He would’ve said more but his rage and emotion overpowered him.
The Grand Shepherd smiled reassuringly. “Not just me of course. Novelle New Zealand and the Church of the Holy Lamb are the actual owners of Nebula Inc, and as such, your employers.”
“You mean to say," Felix blurted out, “that I’ve spent the last couple of weeks being chased by religious fascists only to discover that for the last three years of my life, I’ve been working for a not dissimilar group?”
The Grand Shepherd started to look concerned. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation later," he said. Crystal came up and took a livid Felix by the arm. “Come on sweet thing," she said with a smile on her beautiful face. “Trust me. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Swallowing his fury for a moment, he allowed Crystal to lead him towards an AG lift. “I haven’t finished with you yet," he yelled over his shoulder. Behind him, the Grand Shepherd and his assistants were introducing themselves to his friends.
Crystal drew Felix into the lift next to her and ordered the doors to close. She pulled him close. “Hey," she said. “Not a particularly good way to meet your employer for the first time. A bit nervous in job interviews are we?," she teased.
Not getting any response, she tried another approach. “Do you really think I’d be working for them if I knew they were dodgy?”
Felix shook his head slowly. “No, not really. Just a bit of a shock. Do they really own Nebula Inc?.”
Crystal nodded. “Oh yes, you really do work for them, and yes, they developed the Overdrive.”
Felix nodded thoughtfully. He suddenly became aware of his surroundings. “Where are we going.”
Crystal smiled provocatively. “There’s a suite prepared for us. They want you well rested. Tomorrow you get to meet the big cheese.”
“The who?”
“You’ll see."
◊
In the 300 years since Fever had been open as a tourist destination, ongoing construction had continually enlarged and improved on the initial habitat chambers. At 3 kilometers in diameter, each chamber was designed to house and support up to 200,000 people in spacious comfort. The chambers were of a fairly standard design with either a lake or garden dominating the middle and accommodation or recreational facilities burrowed into the walls. Currently, Fever sported 10 such chambers with another five under construction. Each chamber had its own disco theme or icon. The main chamber and first to be built, Studio 54, was situated close enough to the centre of Fever to act as its administrative and bureaucratic heart.
Logan, Tarquin, Walter and the two transplanters, were taken there by Grand Shepherd Mattock.
Everywhere they looked, disco abounded. The café, the people, the clothes. Logan and Tarquin were starting to feel more relaxed with their new look. It was doubtful, however, whether Bruce and Derek would ever look the part.
“Oh dear. You don’t think he’s annoyed with me do you?” asked the Grand Shepherd.
“Who Felix? Nah. I’m sure he’ll get over it,” replied Tarquin.
After being introduced, the Grand Shepherd had guided them to an AG capsule which they used to traverse the 25 odd kilometers to Studio 54. Once there, he led them through the central park. Tall oaks lined the path and small arboreal animals could be seen leaping from tree to tree. Apart from the various colored lights decorating every tree, Logan and Tarquin could have been back on Coleridge. Arriving at a small café situated on the edge of the park, Mattock gestured for the others to sit. The Grand Shepherd waited for the others to find a chair before settling himself down. His two female assistants stood to either side of him. They’d removed their cowls revealing, to Logans evident delight, surprisingly beautiful female faces.
“So, you’re the head honcho for this religious sect then?," inquired Logan.
The Grand Shepherd smiled easily. “Oh good Lord no. That would be Ram Terry IV. Our secular head and true leader, bless his horns.”
Mattock took a sip of what appeared to be a Martini and looked around the group.
“I take it none of you are too familiar with the history of Novelle New Zealand or the Church of the Holy Lamb then?”
The Grand Shepherd received vague murmurs and negatory shakes of the head by way of response.
“Right then, I’ll be happy to fill you in, but first, I believe we owe you gentlemen a great debt of gratitude. You will of course we compensated for any time and inconvenience that this little interlude has cost you."
“Damn right," said the Polar Bear.
Mattock sailed on, seemingly without noticing the interruption. “Tarquin. My thanks for the use of your ship. You will find compensation in your account. The information that Felix possesses is priceless. Without your assistance, I believe that data would now be in less, shall we say, scrupulous hands.”
“Where is Felix now?," asked Tarquin.
“Ah yes. We felt Felix could probably use some time to come to terms with his previously unknown employer. Fear not. He’s quite safe – in this chamber as a matter of fact – guarded by Crystal and a few of our stouter Shepherds. Nothing untoward will happen here. Trust me.”
“We s
eem to have heard that a few too many times lately," said Logan. “Every time someone says trust me, everything seems to go tits up."
The Grand Shepherd was unperturbed. “Not here my son. We have everything under control.”
“Bollocks," Tarquin muttered under his breath.
“What was that my son?’ enquired the Grand Shepherd.
“I was just going to ask; how is it that its compulsory for everyone to assume disco garb, but you lot seem to have sidestepped it somehow?”
The Grand Shepherd settled back in his chair, crossed his legs and laced his fingers. “You really get to wear what you want when you are a key investor in this hunk of rock. Let’s just call it religious dispensation shall we?”
“Why not," said Walter, a few gin and tonics encouraging him to join the conversation.
“So what happens now," asked Logan, taking a sip of his beer.
“Well, tomorrow, Felix will meet with Ram Terry IV and hand over the data in a secure environment. We have also built a prototype that we want him to look at. You are all most welcome to meet with the Holy one tomorrow as well of course. In fact, we would rather welcome the added security you would bring, just in case, you understand. After that, we would hope you would all come for a visit to Novelle New Zealand. Felix will be in no danger at this point as we would have safely removed the Overdrive information and sent the information via well guarded ship to our home planet.”
“Why couldn’t Felix just have sent it to you in the first place?” asked Logan.
“He did and it was intercepted. Besides, we haven’t got the modifications he made. That is vital in order to make the Overdrive work.”
“And what about those fuckers, excuse me Grand Shepherd, the Areopagites and the Watchers?," inquired Tarquin.
“I wouldn’t worry about them too much. Once this technology becomes common knowledge, I believe their Empires will crumble. Their organizational structure is far too dependent on their current ability to navigate otherwise inaccessible Nospace. Organizational theory dictates that…”
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