Connor's Gambit

by Z Gottlieb

  “Not a problem. It can take a while to learn where everything is located. The station’s staff can also provide you with assistance. Once you get your chip, if you are truly lost, you can ask the chip for assistance and you may get help.”

  “What do you mean by ‘I may get help’ from the chip? I’m not sure I understand. I thought the chip allowed an individual unlimited access to information for any reason?” Brad asked, as he kept a brisk pace beside Technician Walenash.

  “It depends. The answer to that is complicated. If you are in a situation where your safety is paramount, the chip will trigger a lighted path to guide your way to safety. However, even with the chip, there is an expectation that you need to use your own brain for some functions, such as remembering a route.”

  “How do you know when you should know something?”

  “A query may be answered with silence or an annoying beep. It’s been almost a century since the last time I heard a beep.”

  “A century since your last beep,” Brad repeated, taking another close look at Walenash, thinking he didn’t look a day past fifteen. “How old are you?”

  “I believe I would be equivalent to one hundred twenty-two of your solar years. We are almost at medical; do you have any other questions?”

  One hundred and twenty-two years would be the 1890s and a completely different world. Brad’s life would be as alien to someone from the 1890s as his was to these people now. He wondered if CIG had changed as radically in the last hundred years as had Earth. He would definitely look that up when he had time. For now he needed to answer Walenash. “Not really, other than I hope it won’t hurt.” Brad immediately regretted saying that aloud. He felt like an idiot. He should be more concerned about side effects or how the chip worked. He had committed himself to it, but no one had explained the alien technology to him.

  “Because my chip insertion was done in infancy, I have no memories associated with it. However, no one complains of any discomfort and so I can only assume there is no pain associated with the procedure.” Walenash slowed down, stopping at an unmarked space that slid open. “Medical is here. I will wait for you in the lobby and escort you to Fleet induction afterward. I was informed you were interested in joining.”

  Brad followed Walenash through the doorway. “I stated an interest in joining the Fleet depending upon the successful implementation of the chip.” Stepping into medical, he saw Nan standing in the lobby waiting for him. “Nan, thank you for coming.” Brad looked behind Nan, “Is someone else watching Ben and Sarah?”

  “Shinny is watching them along with Dane.”

  Brad winced hearing his wife’s name, “That makes sense. I was wondering if I might have to go through this procedure alone.”

  “I thought I should be here since I signed up to be your guardian. Shinny is with the children. Connor said he would join you later,” Nan explained. She pointed toward an open doorway. “The medical technicians are waiting for you in the back room.”

  Walenash looked back at Brad. “You have a guardian? That seems odd.”

  “I thought so also, but apparently my youthful twenty-eight was considered a little too young by CIG’s standards,” answered Brad.

  “Ah, my mistake, I forgot this planet ages faster. I haven’t completed training on this planet. Training on the station is usually about two of your years before we are allowed to attend formal schooling on your planet, so there are a number of things about Earth that are still new to me. I’ll wait for you here.”

  That must be the high school part, Brad thought. Who would’ve thought? He wondered how many of CIG’s personnel had integrated themselves around the world. A shiver ran up Brad’s spine as he thought about the ramification of that concept. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, to focus on his current situation.

  Chapter 7

  The last few hours were a blur, leaving Brad numb. The chip implantation went quickly and painlessly as promised. Brad wondered if anything had been done, until he looked in a mirror and saw the telltale mole behind his ear that was a port for upgrades. He didn’t notice anything different until he heard Nan’s voice in his head asking him if he was all right. It was strange hearing her voice and not seeing her. He wanted to respond, but wasn’t sure how other than through his voice. Even then, he just nodded he was okay and hoped she got the response or one of the medical technicians in the room passed the information to her.

  The medics explained to him the chip’s primary mission was medical. The chip was an organic biomechanical machine developed to send chemical messages into his brain and body to balance the body’s metabolic requirements. Over the years, its capabilities had been expanded to allow individuals to either create or accept electronic emissions similar to a phone call or sending a query to a database in the cloud. When Brad asked how to access the databases, he was told it would take time to initialize, but it shouldn’t be too long. He would soon have his own personal browser.

  It would be handy if the databases were all in English. That was another issue. Currently, he needed to convert the responses to his queries into English. Doing so didn’t take much time because the language conversion in his head went quickly with the chip, but, for now, it was a bit of an annoyance. He was told eventually he would pick up the most common languages spoken in CIG space. Verbal communications didn’t seem to be an issue because his brain translated instantaneously. He was hearing English, or at least his brain was telling him it was English.

  Once he learned to access the databases through his chip he would need to balance access with the tablet given to him to avoid having his brain hacked. Brain hacking was a very real problem and he needed to be diligent to avoid compromising his chip, especially with a position in the Fleet. He was obligated to be extraordinarily vigilant as to who he allowed to have internal communications with him, and to allow only encrypted information to be downloaded into his brain. Brain viruses were passed as easily as the common cold, but the results could be far more devastating. Finally, although Nan was given immediate access as his guardian, he still needed to be cautious in allowing others to connect with him internally; the fewer the better. In fact, it was such a serious issue that children were locked out from adding anyone other than their parents. Well that explained Connor and Shinny’s constant communications, or at least he now understood it to be constant communications.

  Brad would have liked to have had more time to make such life-changing decisions; it had felt like only ten minutes. He had joined CIG’s Fleet and agreed to allow the chip to be implanted in Dane, since it appeared to be safe and painless. He also agreed to place Dane in hibernation with Ben and Sarah. He felt uncomfortable leaving Dane in hibernation, but he would be one of seventy-five children hibernating. The staff explained to Brad that Dane was far from being the first child of mixed heritage in their facility. If there were any failures, Brad wouldn’t be alone going after the Fleet — there would be forty other angry parents including Connor, Nan and Shinny. Small consolation, though.

  Joining the Fleet was another whirlwind experience. Nothing like what he knew from Earth recruitments. They asked him if he would uphold the rules and regulations of CIG’s Fleet and then his palm and retina prints were taken for identification and benefits. He could go to any 3D printer and use his palm to print uniforms, shoes, and insignias, but he needed to be careful because the benefits were not unlimited. While the induction was instantaneous, he still needed to select a career field. Brad stood in front of the monitor embedded in his stateroom wall staring at the 800 Fleet positions available to him. Converting the list to English was slower than if it had been sent to his brain. At the rate he was translating, he would return to Earth before he selected a career. At least he wasn’t eligible to fill all 6,800 Fleet positions; otherwise, it would probably take a few years to review the career opportunities. There had to be a better way.

  A bell rang in his stateroom and he looked around for the source. The ringing came from a wall where he
had entered the room. The wall was now solid and didn’t appear to have a door or any panels. Open the door, he thought toward it. A beep like a smoke alarm low-battery chirp went off in his head. “Great,” he thought, “someone is at my door and I’m stuck inside. I wonder if the door is even locked.” He felt for something on the wall to try to open the door. The bell continued to ring and muffled sounds came from the other side. He might be able to figure it out if the ringing would stop. “I’m trying to open the door,” he yelled, as he continued to swipe and wave his arms around the wall while looking for a panel. A portion of the wall slid abruptly open like a pocket door. Brad swung back into the room in surprise while the door disappeared into the wall.

  Feeling like a clown thrown from his car, he straightened up and saw Connor questioning him with a raised eyebrow. “Sorry, I had a little problem with the door,” Brad explained to the escort behind him, who looked like another kid just starting high school.

  “Do we need to send maintenance down here?” the girl asked.

  Connor turned to the escort. “I don’t think so. Please wait out here while I talk to my friend.”

  “Yes, Connor, let me know if there is anything more you need,” she offered bowing her head in a salute.

  Connor gestured for the door to close. “Brad you’ll need to pay closer attention to what everyone is doing. If you can’t remember the simple gestures, you’re going to have more serious issues once we are on the battle cruiser.”

  Chastened, Brad readied to snap back at Connor but caught himself before he said anything he would later regret. Connor was right. The chip gave him an eidetic memory; he just needed to learn to take advantage of it. “You’re right. I’ll pay closer attention to what is going on around me.”

  “Nan has shared everything with me. Apparently you have an interesting genetic marker that medical is researching.”

  Brad was surprised about the comment on the genetic marker, since this was the first time it had been mentioned to him. So much for medical privacy. His whole family probably knew. “Uh, what do you mean? Is it going to affect my entrance into the Fleet?”

  “The genetic marker found on you won’t affect your Fleet commitment. However, it may be indicative of an ancestry similar to one of the CIG planets. Medical pointed out they could research it more and let you know if they find anything definitive. To do this, they will need your agreement to retrieve more samples from your extended family.”

  “From my family? What does that mean? I would be uncomfortable volunteering my parents for any questionable blood retrieval program.”

  “It wouldn’t be that devious or malicious. Someone would retrieve hair samples from them. Your parents would be unaware of the collection. It would give you more insight as to your ancestry.”

  “First me, my son, then my parents. Maybe I should just hand over the whole damn planet,” he snapped back.

  “Brad, stand down and get a grip. The Fleet is not going to retrieve anything without your permission. Normally, they would want to have the individual’s permission. But this isn’t normally. It’s only hair retrieval with your permission. Your parents won’t notice anything different. I understand your concerns but I think you probably owe your son the information, also. If you remember I wasn’t inclined to return to the Fleet, but after the attack from the pilot, I really had no choice. You may not be happy with CIG’s methods, but it is a lot more deferential than the Aneplé would be if they were to reach Earth. The Aneplé will take who and what they want without asking.”

  Brad felt the sting of his friend’s annoyance and calmed down. “Sorry, I know I need to be more understanding about this.” Brad looked at his friend’s concerned face. “You’re right, I need to find out if there is a connection. As long as the retrieval is done without affecting my parent’s knowledge, I consent to the collection.”

  “It will probably be done during a sleep period. They won’t notice the difference,” Connor explained. “I know a lot of information has been dumped on you in a very short time. I also understand this new information is forcing you to reconsider everything you thought you knew and understood. But honestly, I don’t think it will be too long before you realize everything will work out for you.” When Connor had heard that Brad had accepted a position in the Fleet, he wanted to see how his friend was adjusting to his decision. Although Brad had a few underlying issues, gazing around the room, it looked like Brad was onboard and hadn’t wasted any time in accepting his decisions. Not only did Brad put his uniform on, but he also printed out a few additional sets he had left folded on a counter. “Welcome to the Fleet. Have you selected a career field?”

  “No, I could use help. I’m stuck on asking myself why me? Why am I here? And I’m feeling pressured to make a decision I wish I had more time to make.”

  “You need to move past asking yourself these questions if you are going to continue in the Fleet. You were at the right place at the right time. The Fleet doesn’t recruit everyone who accidently sees one of our space vehicles. For now just accept that your presence here is more along the lines of being a target of opportunity.”

  Brad shook his head slightly. “Okay, I’m not sure your explanation has made it any easier for me to accept, but you are right. I may never fully understand the reasons, but I accept that I need to take your advice to move forward and stop asking why if I am going to keep moving forward.” Brad turned toward the list on his wall. “Looking at this list, I’m not even sure how I’m qualified for close to 800 fields. A few that I have been able to translate seem demeaning. Maybe my limited technical background disqualifies me for many of CIG’s advanced technology positions. But I’m not sure I would be happy with most of these positions being offered to me.”

  “What do you mean?” Connor asked. He was curious of what Brad meant since he had looked at the list of careers earlier and thought Brad had a wide variety to choose from. In fact, he had been pleased with some of the positions and hoped Brad would choose the same career path as he himself did. He knew if he was too obvious about pushing him in any direction, Brad, who at times could be stubborn to the point of obstinate, might select something contrary to Connor’s plan. He had been too obvious with Shinny and had seen her select a field that would not have been his first choice for her. It seemed to have worked out for her, but at times he wondered if she would have been better off in a field other than Special Combat Officer.

  “For example, custodian officer,” Brad explained. “I don’t think I would be happy as part of the cleanup crew.”

  “I see,” Connor said. “It’s unfortunate there isn’t more information about the positions. Fleet custodian officers and technicians are in charge of the ship’s environmental systems. The custodians ensure the ship is kept clean from the floors to the air handling systems. The actual job requires them to build, maintain, and operate specialized robots that do the actual cleaning. There aren’t many people in the Fleet who would know what to do with a broom if handed one.”

  Brad chuckled. “That does sound better, but I’m not sure if that’s what I would want to do, anyway. How do I make one selection with so many listed and why does induction think I can do all of these tasks?” Brad led Connor to the monitor on the wall with the list.

  Connor scrolled rapidly through the list as he developed a strategy for pointing Brad in the right direction. “These are the positions you would be eligible to fill once training was completed. The criterion given was a year and a half for training. That was my mistake. You signed up for a two-month deployment to include training. If you want experience in the Fleet, you might look at those fields that would allow you to complete training in two to three weeks and leave some time for you to work in the Fleet. Otherwise, you would leave the Fleet before completing training and be transferred to the reserves. There would be a high probability you would not be asked to return since you would have to go back into the training pipeline and be of little value to the units.” Connor picked up Brad’s pad
and tapped instructions into the tablet. The list slimmed down to fifty-five positions. “By the way, don’t let anyone else pick up your tablet. Depending upon your career field and what is on your tablet, it can lead toward being dismissed,” Connor explained as he handed the pad back to Brad.

  “Thanks for the warning; I’ll be more careful with my tablet.” Brad read over the condensed list. “The list looks more reasonable but still odd. What order are these positions?”

  “They’re in order of training days. What do you find odd?”

  “Number one is Bicycle Mechanic, training one day. Why does a space ship need a bicycle mechanic from Earth? Frankly, I can’t wait to hear the explanation—from the Fleet Admiral, no less.” Brad laughed.

  “As strange as you might find this, we did not develop two-wheel bicycle riding. The sport was imported from Earth,” Connor explained. “Bicycling basically took off and is one of the more popular activities in CIG and even on a battle cruiser. There are bicycle tracks on the ship for people to ride during their rest periods. However, the tracks require several mechanics working full time. The training days provided are estimations based upon an individual’s background and skill sets. One day or less was estimated because you can read the original manuals and know how to use the tools immediately. Someone from my home planet, who may have never seen a bicycle, might take three to six months, depending upon how long it takes them to learn to ride.”

  “That makes sense, but I would never have imagined a society as advanced as CIG would not have invented transportation similar to the bicycle. From my perspective, it’s a strange concept, but that explains Shinny’s and your devotion to bicycling. How big is a battle cruiser that it supports a few bicycle tracks?”

  “Big. I could give you the statistics, but you’ll see soon enough. I know you don’t want to be rushed, but you need to make a decision quickly. Is there anything else in the list you find interesting?”