Metamorph: The Outbounder Chronicles

by Chris Reher

  “You didn’t mention their meeting with the Roucho trader at the Terrica filament.”

  She stopped walking. “You intercepted my report?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Those reports are Pendra property.”

  “I know.”

  His calm, slightly weathered, face offered no expression, but she saw past his unwavering gaze to detect the hint of amusement hiding in there. The slight tension in his shoulders seemed to anticipate her response with more than casual interest. “Then I guess you also know I didn’t mention the cases of rascot root in their hold?”

  That revelation seemed to startle him. “Oh? He should know better than to let a mediary into his storage.”

  “It was as locked as my report was.”

  He chuckled. “You have talents I wasn’t aware of. The Rowan crew has much to thank you for. The taxes on that stuff barely make it worth shipping up here.”

  “That’s because it’s not wanted on the station. It makes people lazy.”

  He turned to the window to look out into space. “It gives people a few moments of rest, of dreams. Not everyone is as privileged as you are. The station isn’t pretty in a lot of places, mostly the lower levels.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she said, bothered by the dismissive tone. It was a tone she often heard in the voices of those who resented the station’s administration and the agents employed by them. It told her she was not one of his people, that she was too detached from the civilians who worked here or the migrants crammed into tired ships or overcrowded dormitories to really understand life aboard the station.

  “So why didn’t you?” he said. “Report these things, I mean. That’s your job, even if not officially.”

  Laryn followed his gaze out of the station and into the Out There. It had always been the Out There for her, in words that stood out in big letters, lit up in bright colors. It had felt that way since she had first learned that there were worlds beyond Earth’s horizons.

  She walked a few steps away to run her hand over the controls embedded in the transparent wall. The display darkened for an instant and then an overlay appeared before them. What had been a panorama of stars now showed the filaments streaming away from the inscrutable vantablack sphere, three hundred thousand kilo-ems away.

  The sensors and navigational systems saw the filaments this way, although someone had added a little color and shine to this overlay, like the surface of the blackest oil. The anomaly itself, without accretion disk or photon sphere, was of interest only because of the smears of light distorted by its pull.

  Countless undulating threads of dark matter took root within the safe zone above the event horizon, reaching from this Hub into deep space. This overlay showed only the denser formations – the sort suitable for exploration – and ignored the wispy threads of murk that permeated the universe and even pierced Pendra Station itself to pass unnoticed through and out again on their way to nowhere.

  All planets spun dark matter murk into threads this way, but Bogen’s Well, the heart of the Hub, attracted it in measures that made deep space travel possible. It sprouted far more substantial filaments than Earth, presenting thousands of traffic lanes leading to remote and unexplored regions of space. Distance measurements lost their meaning and now points of interest were marked on the maps by how much real-time it took to reach them.

  The sight of the Well unsettled many who saw it as some rapacious monster waiting to tear apart all that dared to ride the filaments into the unknown. Indeed, some ships had disintegrated in the attempt, before the correct shield configurations were found. Others had simply disappeared for reasons that were mere speculation. But she only had to see Ryle looking out over the display to find him as enraptured as she was by the possibility these endless rivers presented. Had sea captains plying Earth’s ancient oceans worn the expression now on his face?

  “Because of this,” she said.

  He frowned, puzzled, as he turned to her. “Because of this you let smugglers go unreported?”

  “What do I care about smugglers?” she said, still watching the Well as if it might suddenly move. “I’ve wanted to be out there for as long as I can remember. How fortunate you are to have lived your life on this adventure. I want to be part of that.” She traced a finger over the glass, following the line of a filament. “Not as a passenger. Not a tourist taking safe jaunts around the Hub. I want to be part of the discoveries that happen out here.”

  “So how did you end up on Pendra Station, then?” His voice was soft, as if afraid to jolt her out of her confession.

  She tapped her temple. “This. I grew up near the Queensland exclusion zone and things were… difficult for us. Little food, too many people off the grid and without hope, but we joined with others to make the best of it, living off the land to survive. But even during those hard years my mother insisted that I study and learn about the things that were, and the things that are. She wanted me to have what they had lost and when I showed aptitude she applied for a neural enhancement for me. Memory augmentation.” She turned to smile up at him. “I didn’t even know about that. I thought everyone used computers for everything.”

  “Used to,” he said. “Until the AIs went amok before either of us was born. A lot of damage happened by the time the system was contained again. I suppose it’s safer to turn Humans into thinking machines than machines into Humans.”

  She nodded. The AI breakthrough had come not long after developers, contracted by corporations like Pendra’s, had perfected their vain attempts to bestow Human thought processes onto the artificial intelligence that operated every aspect of their lives. Phase-changing material simulated neuronal membrane that finally produced an intuitive intelligence able to act with far greater efficiency than any Human could, autonomously or in concert with others of its kind.

  But things had turned disastrous when their intellect surpassed their Human caretakers and they escaped their digital bonds. Only the unprecedented coordination of multinational agencies finally brought them under control and relieved them of their duties. What remained was a changed world and neutered synthetic neural networks whose every action was filtered and controlled by their physical connections to a Human. That their survival depended upon the health of the Humans who held their leash ensured obedience. They were now little more than vast databases, seeming sentient only at the whim of their cosmetic programs.

  “Probably is,” she said. “And exciting. Once I got the implant, I was able to absorb so much more information that I began to do research on my own. Mostly sciences and medicine. It was like magic! I just wasn’t able to forget anything I learned. I finally had the chance to leave Earth to come here, to the Hub.”

  “And take a job as warden of prospectors after all that?” he said, amused. “A bunch of ruffians and bootleggers?”

  “Well, I’m biding my time until I can get a post on a research expedition. The mediary offer came with private quarters. Pendra’s been good to me, so I agreed to this assignment.” She grimaced when she realized how her words must sound to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that your pursuit isn’t also valuable…”

  He grinned. “I get it. Minding the outbounders isn’t exactly a choice assignment.”

  “It’s still a chance to see what’s out there, even if my work on your ship isn’t all that useful. To you or to me. But maybe I’ll get a liking for ruffians and bootleggers.”

  “And their petty crimes, too? The ones that don’t make it into your reports?”

  “Are you testing my loyalties, Captain?”

  “I am.”

  Although he seemed to be joking, she felt a point had to be made. “If you’re suggesting that I neglect my duty as mediary…”

  “Not even a little,” he said. “But you’ve got what I need. If you’re tired of lounging around in your cabin and spying on smuggled inventory, I could use you on the bridge. Data collection, not avionics. Trevor got himself hitched and his lady won’t have hi
m tripping the threads. That leaves us a bit short out there. Interested?”

  “Don’t even ask!” she said, astounded by the offer. Although the Pendra Consortium owned a few corvettes able to navigate the filaments, it relied on the outbounders’ ability to gather scientific data during even the most mundane of expeditions. With his thinly disguised bribe, Ryle had offered what mattered most to her. No one had so much as invited her to see the bridge of her last assignment aboard the Rowan, never mind work on it.

  His eyes shifted and the easy smile faded to frown at something behind her. “Now here’s a boatload of ugly,” he murmured.

  Three men walked toward them, led by a captain of the Roucho Transport Company. Laryn had seen him around the station, always shouting at something or someone who managed to irk him. A hulking figure, dressed in untidy layers of uncared-for clothing, he towered over his crew in both stature and authority.

  “Wait up, Tanner,” he bellowed although neither Ryle nor Laryn had moved from their spot by the observation window. “Want to talk to you.”

  Ryle hooked his fingers into the back pockets of his trousers and waited while the rival prospector approached. He said nothing when the captain reached them, trailed by two crewmen who seemed a little out of breath, and just regarded the taller man with a raised eyebrow. Laryn copied his pretense of affected politeness while putting up with this tedious interruption.

  Indeed, the Roucho leader looked a little taken aback; perhaps he had expected some insult or challenge from Ryle. Laryn had half-expected that, as well – the coarse rivalry among the outbounders spilled into all areas of the station. He glanced at her and then back at Ryle. “Saw you down at Toko’s,” he began.

  “And..?” Ryle said.

  “You were with those mummies. Making deals, I guess.”

  “They’ve got some very fine coin.”

  “What are they up to? Why’re they hiring outbounders? Kalons got ships of their own.”

  Ryle shrugged. “Just tourists. Speculators. Like everyone else.”

  “You want to be careful, Tanner. Maybe best not to get involved with them.”

  “Why do you think that?” Laryn said.

  The captain turned to her. “’Cause they’re a creepy bunch, girl. We don’t need them setting up shop here, crowding the Hub. They’re right cozy with Pendra. Who knows what deals they’re making or how they’re getting their hands on our coin. You best not be showing them things they don’t need to know about, Tanner.”

  “Thank you for your insightful advice. I’ll bear it in mind.”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed as he considered a response to Ryle’s sarcasm. “Some of us don’t want the mummies on the station at all,” he said to Laryn instead. “And now we might be making friends out on Antica. Before you know it, this place’ll be overrun with aliens. Ought to stay on their planet and leave this place to real people.”

  “Kalons seem real enough to me,” she said, keeping her voice even. “And the Anticans don’t seem interested in the Hub. But I can understand that you would fear more competition.”

  His brow lowered over his deep-set eyes. “No one’s competition for Roucho, girl. Specially not a bunch of them.” He glanced at Ryle. “Where’d you find this one, Tanner? Not your usual speed, is she?” His eyes shifted see what curves might hide under her shawl but it seemed that his leer was intended to goad Ryle into some altercation, strictly forbidden on the more polished levels of the station. “You must have good parts under that dress or he wouldn’t bother.”

  Laryn felt, more than saw, Ryle’s good humor evaporating. His casual slouch stiffened and his hands moved to his side as if he prepared to give in to the provocation.

  “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” She smiled sweetly and held out her hand. “I’m Agent Ash, the Nefer’s current mediary. I didn’t catch your name.”

  The smirk on the man’s face withered as he took her hand, touching it as if it might break in his rough paw. “Agent Ash? Well.” He cleared his throat as his glance shifted to Ryle. “We’re Roucho Company. Name’s Ben Colsan.”

  Ryle leaned forward and tipped his head in Laryn’s direction. “Cog Division,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  Colsan released her hand at once. Laryn had seen this reaction many times since receiving her implant. The Cog lab here was a minor adjunct of the station’s medical facilities, existing to support the augmented members of the staff and crews. But here, too, fanciful theories swirled around the innovations made by the vast Earth-based Cognitive Sciences Agency ranging from telepathy to mind control. Those who weren’t part of the system viewed any Cog as suspicious. “Well, what I said,” he grumbled. “We’re not too happy with others crowding in on the outbounder business, that’s all. Only so many contracts available to us.”

  “I understand,” Laryn said. “The Kalon people can seem a little daunting, even if their ships aren’t.”

  Ryle grinned broadly as they watched Colsan and his men hurry away, toward the ramps at the end of the concourse. “Nice work, Agent,” he said.

  “Easy work,” she corrected. “The privilege of my office. Thanks for not leaping to my rescue, though. He seems a little… umm, overbearing.”

  He shrugged. “If you’re going to hang out with the prospector gangs you’ll be running into more like him. Azah gave him a bloody nose on their first meeting. I think I like your ways better.”

  Laryn laughed. “You’re still testing me, then, Captain?”

  “Just making sure you’re not being starry-eyed about the great adventure you’re looking for. Things get rough sometimes.”

  “Do all of you feel that the Kalons are a threat to the outbounders? That they’re muscling in on your business? Surely they don’t have the ships to compete with any of yours.”

  “I’m not sure anyone knows why they’re here. But now that they are, there’s nothing to stop them from using the Hub as we do. Nothing that wouldn’t cause trouble for us, anyway. Pendra is keen on keeping them happy. Probably thinks they’ve got all sorts of alien toys to profit from. I doubt they’ll be bound to the rules we’re subjected to. Or taxes.”

  She shrugged. “Those taxes pay for the air you’re breathing right now. I’m sure the Kalons will be made to pay their share if they want to use the station.”

  “They could build their own.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Anyone could, with enough know-how and resources. We can’t claim the Hub as our own. Eventually, Pendra will have to give up their monopoly here. If not to the Kalons, then to some other Earth enterprise setting up shop on the Hub.”

  “Some folks on the lower decks aren’t so sure about that. Pendra is powerful and profits far too much to share any of it. There are stories told about how they keep their competitors away and the politicians in their pockets. And the Ministry is happy with Pendra’s monopoly. It keeps other hotshot outfits from tripping the threads without supervision, attracting more aliens.”

  She nodded. “Like we attracted the Kalons. They wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t poked into their space, showing them how the filaments work.”

  He hesitated a moment before speaking again. “Maybe you could… you know, get some intel on them. The Kalons I mean. The archives must have more than what we’re being told. I don’t want any surprises out there.” He raised his voice in mock seriousness as he looked around the concourse. “I mean, we don’t want to commit any breaches of protocol. Like eating with the wrong fork in front of them or something.”

  She rolled her eyes with just as much exaggeration. “Oh, stop already. Where do you think I was going?”

  Chapter Four

  Laryn still mused over the encounter with Colsan and his crew as she reached the pressure door separating the main station from the Annex. She was well aware of the fear and distrust some residents harbored for the alien species. That didn’t seem terribly out of place; Humans had a long history of distrusting those not of their own kind and no doubt the Ka
lons felt that. She, too, transhuman by choice, was not exempt from the misgivings others had for her. Neither, she supposed, was Ryle, willingly bound to his digital slave.

  They were all no longer Human, she told herself as she walked past small clusters of people heading for their residences at the end of the station’s official day phase. Cured of disease while still in the womb, enhanced for strength and speed, like Azah, thriving on less food and air during long voyages, few of the Humans here were free of adjustments.

  She wondered, ever so briefly, if Ryle’s powerful body was engineered or the result of natural genes and hard work. What had Colsan meant when he mentioned his ‘usual speed’ where women were concerned?

  Laryn pushed the intrusive thought aside with an impatient frown as she pressed her hand to a security panel. Recognizing her as a Pendra agent, the door slid aside to allow her into the short conduit leading to the more restricted modules of the station. A small travel pod awaited its passengers there, like some sort of horizontal elevator.

  Besides the medical and cog labs, the Annex included Pendra’s research facility. Specializing in exobiology, it investigated new, often hazardous, materials gathered during the prospectors’ forays through the filaments or brought back by the more extensive explorations made by Pendra’s own science vessels. Connected only by two gates and these short conduits, the sector was designed to separate and move away if a quarantine situation arose. More than once in the past, prospectors had returned on a plague ship, with crew and vessel so contaminated by a virus or other pathogen that the only choice remaining was to steer it into the Well to be swallowed and destroyed.

  She dropped into one of the two pale-blue padded benches and pushed her headscarf back to be recognized by the overhead scanner.

  “Hello, Agent Ash,” a soft woman’s voice issued from an unseen speaker in the wall. She spoke for ANN-X, the branch of Pendra Station’s artificial neural network that operated aboard the science annex. “We didn’t expect you back so soon.”