Confluence Point

by Mark G Brewer

  Perhaps in some future time thousands of years hence these objects might prove interesting artifacts to some alien civilization, however, for the moment they represented little more than catastrophic collision opportunities, random space mines waiting for some passing warp traveler.

  This one object in particular might prove of special interest.

  Processor . . . power source, and passenger.

  * * *

  Hillary Station, the Solar System

  Hilary sighed and looked over her glasses to a glazed Regan, incongruously presenting in drop dead red dress and high heels.

  "You're becoming tired of these meetings, aren't you Regan, I can tell."

  "You don't like the look?"

  "It's not that Regan, the look says to me that you're bored, it's OK you know. I love this stuff but it's not for everyone, Ham's not even here half the time," she looked sideways at him, "he thinks I don't know but he's always drifting off."

  Regan sighed in resigned apology. "Hilary, I trust you completely, and I know you'd contact me about anything that's important . . . it's just with that Mitch business, I'm afraid to leave anyone alone now. I'm here because I don't want to take you for granted."

  Hilary put down the sheaf of papers in her hand and softened her look.

  "Regan, this is what delegation is all about. You leave Kevin to run STEIN, Mary to look after the financials, Hayden to handle the diplomacy. This Orbital is a huge undertaking, you shouldn't be trying to run it, and you don't need to. If you fixate on this job you'll never run the galaxy." She laughed at her little joke. "No . . . seriously dear, leave this stuff to me. You'll achieve far more by going off and having fun, you're only a sub away after all. And let's face it, when you're having fun you're far more creative. That's your strength, and the money earner."

  "So what do I do? I thought this would be more fun than it is, no offence intended. A body has its limitations but right now I'm desperate for some action."

  "Take an ADF or an Interceptor, do a flyby of home, just go for a spin."

  "That's a great idea, I think I will Hil." Regan laughed. "And try to think of something for me to do tomorrow eh? Hmm, I think I'll take the Saucer, nothing like buzzing Earth with a flying saucer."

  "I'm still using it." Ham opened his eyes for the first time in a few minutes.

  "What for?"

  "Do I need a reason?"

  "No . . . no of course not, sorry." She brightened. "Actually a little ADF might be just the ticket anyway. You two have fun." She disappeared with a flourish of chiffon.

  "Any word Ham?" Hilary asked.

  "I've heard nothing," he sighed, "and in this case no news does not mean good news. If I'm not back then it means I have probably found something, but not what I need to find."

  "Meaning . . ."

  "I've probably found the impact point, but not . . ." He couldn't say it.

  "And every day you don't find it, it becomes less and less likely."

  "Exactly . . ."

  "I'm so sorry Ham."

  He didn't reply.

  * * *

  The Searching Saucer

  Following a regular zigzag pattern, the Saucer continued its wide scans as the two figures bickered.

  "You're absolutely sure about doing this?"

  "You're asking me for an opinion and you don't see that as a little strange?"

  The two beautiful men stretched out in the central control chairs and looked pensively at the data appearing on screen while occasionally looking strangely at each other as if trying to work out whether splitting into two was really a good idea.

  "Look, it was the only thing to do, there's a puzzle to be solved and we need to put the pieces together. If we're going to solve this we need a team approach, someone has to ask the questions, prompt the thinking and get the problem solving circuits flowing. If we just have two identical copies it will never work. This was a great idea, a left brained version of us and a right brained version, it's perfect."

  "Ok then, so we stay split then for now, but if we're going to do this I want a different name . . . and a different look. We're two completely different aspects of personality after all . . . it'll help things, I know it will . . . what do you say?"

  "We should just concentrate on the job in hand . . ."

  Already the ideas man had changed into racing leathers, "Mario . . ." He said confidently.

  "Sorry?"

  "Mario, if we're going to stay split like this then that's my name for the duration, what about you?"

  "Oh for goodness sake . . . this is ridiculous!"

  "Come on, you need a name, what's it going to be?"

  "I don't like this, but if it has to be . . . I'll be Nelson."

  "Nelson . . ." The racing driver looked surprised, "I don't see you as an Admiral."

  "No, Nelson Rockefeller, the banker."

  It drew a disinterested shrug and Mario's attention switched back to the screen, considering what they knew from the little that remained.

  "Hmm . . . it must have been a doozie of a blast; I wish we'd been there."

  "Mario, if we had been there it would never have happened." Nelson fumed at the stupidity of it all.

  "You've got to give it to her though; she doesn't do anything by halves."

  Nelson ignored the comment.

  "We don't have enough data yet to make a picture." Mario mused.

  "You think?"

  The screen showed just three identifiable pieces of debris, all headed inward toward the sun and therefore clearly parts of the yacht.

  "We need to build a better picture of what happened and it's got to be as complete as we can get it, a recreation of the big bang." Nelson paused, thinking deeply. "Only when we're as sure as we can be on the direction will we head out. There's just too much space to cover, we've got to narrow the area and set up a sweep. This could be just a one shot search."

  "So where do we start, I'd like to get a look at Saturn."

  "We are not going anywhere near Saturn, you idiot, we need to start scanning the area for whatever debris we can find, map its position, trajectory and speed and then trace it back to the original impact. From there we can estimate which direction the box might have flown and narrow things down. While we do that if we're ridiculously lucky we might even find the box itself."

  "OK . . . and for the record I'm not stupid, I'm just trying to keep things interesting, this could be a long search after all."

  "We've only just started!"

  Mario ignored him. "Well, for starters I suggest we begin the search interstellar side, that's the direction it's most likely the ADF bits are heading. Maybe we can gather enough data there."

  Nelson sat up quickly, energized at the thought.

  "That's actually a good idea."

  And they were already moving. The challenge would be to race out beyond the maximum distance debris could have reached in the time, begin a sweep from side to side using a wide arc estimated to cover the likely spread of debris, do it at the maximum speed that still allowed for meaningful scanning and hopefully find enough bits to build an accurate picture . . . simple.

  Of course they would need to repeat the process, continually stretching further and further into the black as the debris field spread at incredible speed. Neither of them was prepared to voice the obvious, that the task was almost hopeless. They did however have one commodity that might help, time . . .

  . . . Lots and lots of time and it was day seventeen.

  * * *

  Dahlia Orbital

  Marin and Leah watched together as the Orbital dwindled on the Interceptor screen.

  For her, the breathtaking view of petals and bulb was a first and something ordinarily unforgettable. Marin observed her blank look, wondering if anything would lift her spirits. This didn't feel right, to either of them. Regan wasn't there.

  He reached across and squeezed her arm. "I know what you're thinking, and I feel a bit the same, but this is different."


  "In what way is it different?" She continued to look glum.

  "You first, tell me what's on your mind."

  Leah thought for a moment as if unsure whether to speak. Then it came in a rush.

  "I'd never want to hurt her Marin. You know it's Stephanie . . . I don't want to be another Stephanie."

  "I thought so, and can you imagine how I feel? But look, this is different, the whole relationship we have with Regan is different."

  "How so?" Leah turned to face him, a doubtful look clearly conveying her feelings.

  "For one thing Steph was her best friend for years, they grew the business together . . . and for another, back then I was a randy Dahlian fool." He seemed to drift off in his thoughts before continuing.

  "Leah, Steph never had a relationship with Regan the way you do, and I don't just mean a physical relationship. Regan feels completely different about you, I know it, I can feel it; and I've changed too."

  "I'm not sure I follow."

  He searched for words. "Steph and Regan . . . they had a different kind of history. They were individuals who grew close through time, like sisters. With you and Regan it's different, a choice, she really does see both of us as partners, in every way. Sure it's unusual, but she gave up ordinary when she shacked up with an alien. I think that was the catalyst for throwing all her preconceptions out the window. And it isn't a matter of trusting us not to do anything. She's in a completely different place now; she trusts that wherever we are and whatever we're doing we're still her partners."

  "So we're a three way?" and for the first time she smiled.

  "Seriously . . . if you're not aware this relationship is a four way you're missing something, and you and I are well down the pecking order."

  "Ham?"

  "You know it." He laughed.

  "I'm happy with that, he's got our backs, and I don't think we're that far down the pecking order."

  "Helloo, the pecking order goes Regan then Ham," he stopped and smiled before continuing, "then you, then me."

  "You're a wise man, Marin son of Mariner." and she punched him lightly on the arm.

  "No argument there . . . now, we've been given a free pass and she wants you to have fun on this tour . . . are we good?"

  Leah finally smiled, "We're good, you can take me in Tihan."

  He laughed.

  * * *

  Regan lay back on her bed, following the Interceptor's progress as it slipped away through the flotilla of vessels still gathered, many still hoping for a visit from her.

  Relaxing now, she shuffled and assumed the most comfortable position she could manage. She would wake again in time and go on with the business of preparing for her return to Earth. However, soon she also planned on waking elsewhere, with three days to take care of quite different business.

  She split, closed her eyes and snapped into cyber space; then connected.

  A moment, that's all it took, just as promised, and at the successful transfer she let out a long sigh of relief. In what form she had arrived she had no idea, but the room seemed the same. She scanned, taking a slow three sixty degree pan of the environment and confirmed she was alone.

  A mirror . . . drifting across she could see her avatar, much as she expected and she lifted both hands to examine them, marveling at the experience, still doubting that such a shift could be possible and determining to establish the truth of the location as a priority.

  She then turned back from the mirror to examine the room in more detail.

  Two weeks - is Ham still here? How do I even call him without alerting authorities?

  Walking back to the center of the room she stopped and turned slowly, reexamining what she could see. The bathroom door, a table, a screened window, the screen, another door to the corridor, a cabinet, another door . . .

  She padded slowly across and reached out one hand tentatively, grasping the traditional knob and turning. It wouldn't budge. After a moment's confusion she instead concentrated, and with a slight resistant scrape the door popped open on its own.

  She looked through to see a form only too familiar. It was very like her, naked, slightly taller, unblemished and lifeless.

  She smiled, her shock dissolving into delight. Closing her eyes again she concentrated for a moment feeling for connection with whatever processor housed the ghost. When she reopened her eyes, she was looking out into the room. She lifted one hand to her face and stroked the cheek, raised one leg and grasped it, pulling it to the chest and stretching the hamstring. Alternating she stretched the other leg, then stepped out into the room and with a familiarity born from years of practice moved in to a sequence of stretches and flexes, limbering up, learning and marveling.

  Oh yes . . . it’s show time.

  Walking to the most comfortable chair in the room she curled up there to wait.

  The click of a door stirred her to wakefulness.

  Curled in the chair Regan looked across to the entrance, a man she did not recognize by sight standing there; tall, muscular and unbelievably beautiful. His signature was undeniable, his reaction unforgettable.

  Ham stopped, rigid with surprise for a moment and then dropped to his knees, eyes still locked on hers.

  She stood and without a word walked to him, taking his head and hugging it to her belly as he began to sob, his arms reaching up to pull her into him tightly.

  "Why . . . I didn't expect you so soon . . ." He wiped tears from his eyes, "These damn androids, they have flaws you know." He tried to control another sob unsuccessfully, and instead abandoned all pretenses, falling into her, collapsing in release.

  She simply held him, squatting to curl around him on the floor, not speaking just stroking his head in comfort.

  In time all became quiet; the only sound a quiet heaving causing the rustle of cloth between them.

  "I worried about you," she said, "how you would feel, having a real body for the first time."

  "I feel such a fool Regan; I prided myself on being above such things, but I was wrong. I've been a blubbering mess. For a Mind, this is overwhelming, you have no idea."

  She smiled and stroked away hair from his eyes. "Don't I? To find myself in your world, to roam cyber space, to sit with you and Hilary . . . still, I can understand. To have come from your position to this, to touch and to feel; it must be wonderful."

  "Wonderful . . . oh I hear what you say, but forgive me, you have no idea what this means to me." He sobbed again.

  "Can we go out, to look around?" She asked.

  "Yes, yes of course, I'll show you how. We send a signal that indicates we're taken, unavailable for service and then we can go anywhere." He looked at her, a little ashamed. "You need clothes. I should have organized something, but I didn't expect you for another few weeks, I'm sorry."

  "That's fine Ham, so much has happened. What can we do?"

  "Leave it to me, I'll be back soon." He rose, straightened his garments and with a reluctant look back slipped from the room.

  He took an hour. An hour in which Regan showered, exploring her body with some satisfaction, still not sure of its makeup but happy with its responses. She felt strong, healthy, flexible and whole.

  The garments he brought back were snug but modest. Not a style she would have chosen but no doubt suitable for the occasion. Ham proved solicitous in his attentions, guiding her from the building and then through streets and parks, on transports and walkways. Every step of the way he pointed out android and humanoid, slave and free. No children, few youth, and many older though healthy.

  They agreed on no business, I have files, he had said, and this was a time to enjoy a new experience, one he was embarrassingly eager to indulge; understandably so. His nervousness, attentiveness, sweetness, spoke volumes.

  In time, despite his delays, there was nothing left but to return. With Ham dragging his reluctant feet they made their way back to the room, an unbearable sadness seeming to settle on him.

  "Ham, what's wrong, you seem so sad?"

  "D
o you need to go now?"

  She looked surprised. "Go? Why would I go?" Regan walked ahead into the room pulling at the collar of her garment, unclipping it, and stripping the jacket from her shoulders.

  "I thought you would need to, you know; return . . . I didn't expect you."

  She turned to look at him. "Do you want me to go?"

  "No, no of course not . . ." His words drifted to nothing as she continued to disrobe.

  "Ham my darling . . . this is why I'm here, for you. I don't need to go yet." The last piece slipped to the floor and she stood there for him, naked, beautiful.

  He coughed, nervously. "I don't understand . . . what about Marin?"

  "You know I love Marin, and I love you. This . . . new thing, it's overwhelming for you, I know. Ham . . . I never imagined . . . I'm sure you never imagined this would be possible, but here we are. Yes, I love Marin, and I love Leah, and I also love you. But you, Ham my man, are the only one ever, to truly get deep in here." And with that she raised one hand, slowly . . . to tap her heart. Then she stepped to him and began to slowly remove his clothes.

  "Regan, I never dreamed we could . . ." His nervousness was almost painful.

  "I know." She slowly peeled the loose fitting suit from his shoulders.

  "I know the theory . . ." He gasped as the suit dropped to the floor, his android body trembling.

  "I know." She knelt before him, stroking her hands down his hips, his thighs, his calves.

  "I could channel some files . . . you know . . . of someone good at this . . ."