The Alpha Choice

by M. D. Hall

  Gorn’s paper, written while still at school, had been seized upon by Navy engineers as providing a clear exposition of the problems associated with random teleportation, but more importantly, the germ of an idea to solve them. The paper was considered so revelatory that the Council itself, petitioned Bakir to put his son into the Science Institute, rather than the Naval Academy. It was the only decision of his adoptive father for which he was grateful. Bakir refused not, as Gorn earlier believed, for his son’s benefit, but to prevent him from excelling where his own sons could not. Whatever Bakir’s reasons, it seemed that without Gorn to expand his theories, the work on developing teleport technology had ground to an ignominious halt.

  As he looked at the shuttle that would take him to Eclipse, Gorn recalled the schematics of the flagship soon to become his home, perhaps his final home. Every plan and diagram relating to the ship had been committed to memory. He did the same with his first ship, far less data, but for a different reason.

  Once on board the shuttle, he looked around at his companions for the nine-minute trip. From his vantage point, at the rear of the passenger module, he counted twenty-four. None were known to him, which was hardly surprising when the ship’s compliment was twelve thousand, all of whom, with the exception of this little group, would already be on Eclipse.

  That this was a stragglers’ transport could be readily gleaned from a cursory glance along empty rows of seats lining the walls of the module. The standard shuttle carried over three hundred passengers, so this was clearly the last shuttle to the mother ship.

  The ‘stragglers’ fell into three categories: the tardy, evident from the condition of their uniforms, and the general impression that they desperately wanted to be somewhere else; the ‘hung over,’ who had celebrated their return to active duty with a little too much brio; and finally, the compassionate leave returnees.

  He mentally slotted each occupant into their respective roles until, halfway down the opposite row, he came across a young woman, about his own age, petite, with a slightly upturned nose and delicate mouth. Her hair was dark brown and cut short enough to be military, but not so short as to hide her femininity, neither was it too long to hide her eyes while her head was lowered. She was firmly in the compassionate leave camp.

  There was something about the stranger he could not quite place, a thoughtfulness that suggested she was not unlike himself. He decided to find out more about her, and created a complication he could do without.

  Gorn had always thought there would be time enough to form relationships once he was established in his career, and never ascribed to the romantic view of there being one special person mapped out for an individual and, somehow, everyone was meant to find that person through nothing more scientific than pure chance. Logic told him it was potentially dangerous to pursue this line of thought. Of all the times when he should avoid distraction, this sat right at the top of the list.

  It crossed his mind that the knowledge he carried might be influencing his reactions. Was he scared by what he knew? Was the potential destruction of his society causing him to take untenable risks? Probably, and yet something deep inside told him this woman needed his help, a totally illogical conclusion, and one he knew was unjustifiable. He had settled into the part his aunt had written for him in her tragic play, and now he was confused. For reasons beyond his understanding, he was sure a new character had just been introduced.

  The remainder of the short journey was uneventful, and at no time did the young woman raise her head. Gorn knew this, because he never took his eyes off her. All too soon, the announcement came from the pilot that the shuttle was about to dock. Without being told, no one would be aware the manoeuvre was taking place. It was both silent and smooth, testimony to the sophistication of the technology, rather than the skill of the pilot.

  Gorn waited as all the passengers disembarked. As he anticipated, the young woman was the last to leave. While passing where he sat, she raised her head and looked straight at him. For the briefest of moments, her eyes registered that her mind was elsewhere, then they appeared to focus and she noticed him. The look on her face was one of complete surprise, followed by confusion. Then she was past him, turning her head so that she was looking straight ahead. He watched as she left the shuttle and walked out of sight.

  Of all the things he had seen, and heard, and experienced over the last few weeks, this surprised him most. Why did she react in that way? As far as he could recall, they had never met. He made his way out of the shuttle, and into the boarding area.

  In each of the thirty boarding areas of the great ship, was a three quarters segment of a circle just over sixty metres in diameter. Within its circumference were seventy-five arches, each of them one and a half metres wide, separated by a little over thirty centimetres. These were internal teleport stations that could take a person anywhere on the ship. Other than the arches, the area was empty. It was also completely unmanned.

  Boarding was a more leisurely affair than abandoning the ship, which would, according to protocols embedded in its core processors, operate as a mass teleport to waiting escape pods. Gorn was impressed when he discovered that all three thousand crew, together with shock troops, could be evacuated to the one hundred and twenty pods in less than a second. Three seconds later, the pods would be six thousand kilometres from the ship.

  Each of the passengers stepped into an arch and promptly vanished. The last person to teleport, prior to Gorn, was the young woman, who did not look at him before she too was gone.

  He moved towards an arch and, before entering, paused to consider what had just happened. A few moments earlier he was fairly sure he had never met this woman. Now he was absolutely certain, but it seemed she clearly knew of him, perhaps something she had been told about him made her uncomfortable, and he did not think it had anything to do with zagball. Whatever his previous thoughts about the wisdom of speaking to her, matters were now out of his hands. He had to find out why she reacted as she did, for no other reason than she might know what he was planning.

  Stepping into the arch he formed the thought, my quarters. The teleport system would identify him from its scans, and check the manifest stored within its database, to ascertain his quarters. The whole process took nanoseconds. Instantly, he found himself standing next to a teleport post in a cabin.

  Every room on the ship had at least one similar post, all of which could transmit as well as receive the teleportation patterns of the subject. Use of these personal stations was restricted to embarkation and disembarkation, by the occupant - others could only use them on invitation - while movement around the ship utilised the plethora of posts in the public areas.

  He took a moment to look around his quarters, which were just as the schematics revealed. Being a bridge officer certainly had its advantages, it was more than three times the size of the room he shared with two other junior officers, on Meteor. To have such space assigned to one person, on a ship where space was at a premium was, he thought, a misuse of a scarce resource. However, any natural urge to make this an issue by, for example, requesting more modest accommodation, would displease Darl, something he had to avoid, at all costs.

  Where his previous quarters were purely functional, there were facilities here that went far beyond utility. While all rooms were equipped with a console, it seemed that not all were equal. A cursory examination told him he could alter the appearance of the room to suit his desires - again, totally superfluous to his needs. Just as unnecessary, was the ability to transform one whole wall into a view screen that accurately displayed the space outside the part of the ship where he was quartered. He called up the image, it was impressive, so impressive he left it in place.

  The console informed him he had three hours, before attending a meeting of all bridge officers. With nothing to unpack, he decided to rest before beginning the work he knew must be done. Lying on his bed he gazed at the vista of space spread out before, and arching over him into the ceiling. Feeling surprisingly
relaxed, he allowed his mind to wander freely. One face came back again, and again to haunt him, the troubled face of the stranger on the shuttle.

  After thirty minutes, he was at his console, memorising essential data, and instigating the routines he had designed over the last six days. Within another hour, he was satisfied that everything Narol had told him, was true. He set up the flash disruption to all communications systems for a time when he would be safely beyond suspicion, two and a half hours should do it, he thought.

  He stepped away from one of the bridge transporters, precisely one and a half hours later.

  Ω

  Darl’s Soiree

  Gorn was escorted to a large room and was immediately struck by how out of place it seemed, on a ship of the line. The walls were dappled cream marble, with a floor to match. Set at intervals, all around the room, were alcoves in a contrasting darker marble, each containing - mounted on a polished black granite plinth - a priceless work of art, not from conquered worlds, but Te’ath itself; precious relics of their own history, reaching back to a time of empire, where great art and terrible cruelty lived side by side.

  In the centre of the room was a long table of rosewood with matching chairs, completing a set that must have been unimaginably costly. Knowing the man, Gorn could only guess what strings he must have pulled, and what favours he would have called in, to possess such treasures. He could appreciate the beauty of everything in the room, but seen together it was all just too much, not unlike the owner.

  The table only had two unoccupied seats: one at its head, which he took to be the commander’s; that left the remaining chair for him. He thought it likely Darl would appear once everyone was in place, and could appreciate his entrance. A swift look around the gathering, showed all the senior bridge staff as well as civilian heads of every department - he had committed to memory every fact the ship’s database held on them - including Narol.

  No sooner had he got to his allotted place, than his new commander, clad in full dress uniform, made his entrance. Gorn had to accept that the man looked every inch the master of one of the most powerful ships in the fleet. Moving slowly to the head of the table, Darl looked at each of his officers, in turn. For their part, all had risen from their seats, except for Gorn, who was still standing.

  Having arrived at his destination, the host beamed at everyone, taking time to revel in the thought that this was his ship and most of these people, his bridge staff who, with the latest additions, could lay claim to being the best in the fleet, not unlike his zagball team. His smile achieved the impossible, becoming even brighter as he sated his appetite for theatre. No one moved or spoke, most of them knew the consequences of breaking Darl’s idyll. On this occasion, the wait for their commander to become replete, was mercifully short. Lowering himself into his seat, with as much ceremony as the act would permit, gave the signal for everyone to follow suit.

  Gorn would have taken a more leisurely look around the table at his fellow wunderkind, but for the attentions of the young woman from the shuttle, who was looking straight at him. The three hours rest certainly had a restorative effect; she no longer looked preoccupied, or troubled, but clear eyed and focused. She was appraising him, and there was no doubt, her interest was anything but sexual. The look was dispassionate, without being cold or hard.

  He was, unexpectedly, enthralled at the possibility she might know more about him than she should. Perhaps he ought have been more concerned, she might prove dangerous. Had his aunt a backup plan that excluded him? If that was the case, then this young woman would certainly have been instructed to keep a low profile. Narol was no fool, and would know that any hint of her involving a third party, would lose his support. By the same token, it was unlikely his mystery woman would be a member of the Agency, which again would rely upon stealth. Whatever the reason for her singular interest in him, he was satisfied it had nothing to do with his mission, maybe I was wrong and it is about zagball. Did she want my position, I wonder? If she did, and thinks zagball got me the post, it would explain…

  His reverie was broken by Darl’s bass tones. ‘Welcome home,’ again, his eyes positively shone with pride. ‘Of course, there are two of us for whom this is their new home,’ he turned the beam of his gaze upon the young woman opposite Gorn, and smiled indulgently. She stood, bowing her head in acknowledgement. Darl waited until she sat down, before continuing, ‘I introduce our new navigation officer, Lieutenant Trang. She replaces our dear Lieutenant Dron who, as most of you know, has been sequestered to the long range exploratory vessel, Delta. I’m sure we have found his match in Trang,’ his smile had become a little forced. Everyone, other than Trang and Gorn, knew he had fought tooth and nail to keep Dron, but Delta was given the highest priority, her commander to be refused, nothing. Evidently, a top class navigation officer was especially crucial to a mystery mission that not even Darl, with all his contacts and influence, could uncover.

  Gorn anticipated that everyone in the room would know of his connection to Gallsor, and wondered whether the commander would drive the point home. Darl continued. ‘All of you will have seen our new science officer, Lieutenant Gorn, stake his claim to be the greatest zagball player ever to grace a cuboid. It’s no little thanks to him that we hold the trophy in recognition of our historic victory over Fleet.’ Turning to the young officer, he placed his right arm across his chest in the time-honoured salutation of the Navy. All the non-civilians, including Trang and Zan, stood and did likewise.

  Darl smiled at the tall, heavily muscled man with ebony skin and hawklike eyes. ‘To tactical officer, Lieutenant Commander Zan, I extend my gratitude for a job well done in tackling the role of science officer, almost as well as he tackles in the cuboid,’ he paused for the obligatory laughter; Darl was a man you needed to keep sweet, and acknowledging his attempts at humour was one way to stay on his good side. The only ones not to laugh were Gorn, Trang and Zan himself. Perhaps Zan thought it unnecessary to keep the commander sweet, while Trang was too new to know any better, and Gorn? Gorn never laughed.

  Seemingly oblivious, to the poor manners of his new recruits and tactical officer, Darl addressed the position of science officer. ‘I persuaded our zagball star that his place is with us, here on the bridge. Each of you will know from his bio that his genius is not restricted to the cuboid,’ true to his word, he said nothing about Gorn’s heritage.

  The new science officer stood and looked at each of the people at the table, leaving Trang until last and, for a prolonged moment, held eyes that betrayed nothing.

  Having introduced his new trophies, Darl spoke a command to no one in particular. ‘Enter!’ A dozen figures entered the room, each bearing a tray of either food, or drink. Humanoid, but not Te’an, they were Nopa, each little more than a metre in height, and of slim build. So far as Gorn could tell, as they wore only short tunics, the Nopa were completely without body hair. Searching the uniformly fine, androgynous, faces he met only blank expressions, with eyes devoid of any intelligence. He had heard of them, but never before seen them. Official Te’an records stated they were enslaved by a belligerent species, the Drakk, and went on to describe how the Te had defeated the enslavers in a war lasting little over a year. The slaves, or to be more accurate, the ones left alive by their masters - in squalor, and unable to communicate - were liberated. Following complete psychological evaluation, it was determined that they were of extremely low intelligence, and generally capable of only menial domestic tasks, save for one singular skill which no one was able to satisfactorily explain.

  All Te’ans had food replicators, yet there were those amongst them who chose to cook and create dishes from scratch. Some turned this into a profession, not unlike great chefs of any civilisation. However, it was very quickly discovered that every one of the Nopa had a remarkable gastronomic skill, far beyond the capacity of any Te’an chef.

  This information, while not generally known, swept like wildfire through the upper echelons of the Navy, before reaching the ears
of the great and powerful on Te’ath. Soon, ships of the line commanders sequestered all Nopa, with the influential houses of Te’ath, and the chambers of the Council itself, ensuring they were not to be left out. Darl had bent his will to obtain a dozen of the Nopa, not because he needed twelve, but to demonstrate the extent of his power and the reach of his influence.

  It was generally believed, by the civilian populace, that the emancipation of slaves was an obligation consequent upon the magnificent success achieved by the military. They had no idea of the use to which the ‘liberated’ slaves were being put.

  Gorn discovered, from his exploration of the ship’s data banks, that only the latter part of the official version was true. The attention of his people was drawn to the Drakk, not because of their land - arid landscapes, intermittently punctuated by small seas, with colonies no more appealing - but because of their technology and, in particular, the ability to enter the Weft instantly. He found the truth of how the Nopa came under Te’an dominion fascinating. The Drakk worlds were peaceful, and populated by two completely different species, the Nopa and the Drakk, highly advanced bipedal lizards, only ever seen in holo-image.

  They were guileless about their background, and their link to the Nopa. Via holo communications, they explained that having moved, peacefully, between the stars for millennia, they had never encountered a hostile species capable of interstellar travel. Astute questioning by Te'an diplomats ascertained that the Drakk were not possessed of any weaponry. They had, six thousand years earlier, discovered the Nopa, sole inhabitants of the single planetary survivor of a dwarf star system. The tiny system was only three light years from a supernova, and the Nopa home world would soon be swept up in the resulting, and rapidly approaching, twenty-one thousand degree remnant. While Drakk ships, being scientific explorer class, were limited in size and ill equipped to transport the imperilled inhabitants, the numbers that needed saving were thankfully, quite small, so all Nopa were rescued.