by S A Pavli
“I am not comfortable with the idea of an alien virus,” said Leslie thoughtfully. “I’ve found no evidence to support this idea. And how can a virus infect an inanimate computer?”
“I am sure it’s not a virus,” said Anja Pederson. “It is something quite new. A life form which we have never come across before.”
“An invisible undetectable life form,” said the Major ironically. “That we can’t defend against.”
“Not true Major,” said LeBlanc quickly. “We know that space suits provide protection because no one succumbed to the illness whilst they were wearing them. It’s only once the explorers from the Chameleon got back to their ship and removed their suits that they became infected. And I believe that if this alien…’thing’…whatever it is; because I am not sure it’s even a life form; if this alien thing can interact with physical matter, there must be some way of detecting it. And we also know that high voltages will destroy it.”
“Two other issues then, which I think Ray may be the best man to address,” said Mark. “One, how do we detect these things, and two, are they intelligent and what’s their relationship to the buildings on the moon? Sorry, that’s three…,” Mark finished with a grin.
“I can give some thought to putting together some detection equipment,” said LeBlanc. “But I need one to study…” he left the sentence unfinished with a questioning look. “And as to whether they are intelligent…perhaps Captain Pederson can tell us whether anything tried to communicate with her whilst she was…er…infected; Anything whatsoever, stray thoughts, feelings, unconscious or otherwise?” LeBlanc looked enquiringly at Anja. The blonde woman frowned, her face tense with thought.
“I…I don’t know…it’s hard to say. It was like being in a dream; Just full of disjointed thoughts. I have almost no memory of what happened when I was under. It’s as if my memory was also not working properly.”
“Do you feel yourself changed in any way since you recovered?” asked Le Blanc. There was a strained silence while Anja Pederson thought this over.
“No…no, I feel quite normal,” she answered hesitantly. “Are you saying it may still be inside me?” She looked alarmed and LeBlanc answered quickly.
“No, certainly not Captain. There’s no reason to imagine that. I was just interested to know whether this thing left you with any permanent damage. Have you done an MRI on the Captain Doctor?”
“No…,” answered Leslie. “I was planning to do that, as well as a full physical.” LeBlanc nodded approvingly.
“Good. Let me know the results,” said LeBlanc. “There is one final point that is bothering me.”
“Go ahead Ray,” agreed Mark.
“I don’t understand why the Captain was not infected at the same time as the others.” He turned to Anja Pederson. “Can you remember how long it was before that happened?” Anja thought for a few seconds before replying.
“Yes, I remember. I was trying to make Jack Saunders comfortable. He was suffering the worst; none of them were able to drink or eat but he was having difficulty breathing. I found him crawling on the floor and wheezing and I tried to give him some oxygen. It was a struggle and I wasn’t strong enough. He was a big man. He just stopped breathing. His chest froze, his eyes bulged and his face turned black. It was horrible.” Anja Pederson was looking pale and drawn, her hands shaking, and Leslie met Mark’s eyes with a warning look of concern. “Then he died. I knew he was dead because his body relaxed. He was at peace.” She said the last with a sob. “That’s the last thing I remember.” Mark held up both hands to forestall any further questions.
“Ladies and Gents, I think we can wind things up here for now. There is only one final question that we must address. That is, what do we do next. We must of course send a Hyperspace message back home informing them of what’s happened. After that, we can either stay here and do nothing until the Authorities arrive, return back home, or continue with our exploration of the planet and its moon. As the Captain of this ship I make the decision, but I want to hear what you all have to say first.”
“Captain, we don’t need to discuss this.” This was LeBlanc, who spoke up immediately. “This is the greatest find ever. This is it! We can’t possibly turn our backs on this and just go home. Not possible, please don’t make us do that.” The little physicist was almost pleading.
“I agree with Ray,” said Walters. “Captain, once the authorities arrive, this whole system will be cordoned off. There’ll be a dozen warships and a thousand scientists from five planets here before you can blink an eye. We won’t get a look in. Let’s enjoy ourselves while we can, before its taken from us.” Mark nodded.
“I was sure you guys would take that view. But we have no right to put people’s lives at risk. I’d like to hear from the others,” said the Captain. It was the Major who spoke next.
“I think we now know enough about the risk to minimise it. We know how to prevent infection, and we also know how to recover from infection if it happens. And as far as we can tell, however nasty it might be, infection doesn’t cause permanent damage. I’m prepared to continue here. Jimmy, how do you feel?” He turned to his young partner questioningly.
“Yeah, I’m ok with that,” said Jimmy. “Hell, this would be something on my CV.”
“It would be something on all of our CV’s,” said Melanie, speaking for the first time. She turned towards Mark. “I am in favour of continuing the mission. I agree with the Major, but in any case, when can security be guaranteed in Space operations? There’s always a risk, but you offset the risk against the reward. In this case, the rewards are ….well, immeasurable.” Mark looked inscrutable, but there was a glimmer of approval in his eyes as he returned Melanie’s earnest intense look.
“Leslie…?” He looked questioningly at the doctor.
“I think you are all out of your minds,” said Leslie. “But who am I to spoil the fun?”
“That’s the spirit doc,” grinned LeBlanc with a wink at the young doctor.
“Right. I will consult with my crew in private,” said Marc. “There remains only Captain Pederson. After what you have been through Captain, I would not blame you if you wanted to ship home as soon as possible?” Anja Pederson sighed.
“I couldn’t face the same thing happening again.” She almost whispered this, and everyone was again reminded of the horror of what she had gone through. There was an abashed silence. It was LeBlanc who spoke again, and the words came from him slowly and reluctantly.
“Captain…if you can’t face this…we’ll just go straight home… Fuck the fame and glory.” There were murmurs of agreement from around the room.
“No…I owe it to my crew and the expedition to take something back from this,” she replied.
“Ah…good ho,” said LeBlanc, trying to look unconcerned, and in a loud stage whisper to Walters he muttered; “I didn’t mean it about the fame and glory.” There was relieved laughter all round, and even Anja managed a wan smile.
“Right I call this meeting to an end. I will announce my decision very soon,” said Mark. “Melanie, perhaps you and your team can put together a summary of what we know and send it off to your father. I am sure he will enjoy making the announcement to the Authorities and the media.”
“Yes, I can see his face now,” said Melanie.
Chapter 14
Professor Mathew Chan had lived in a number of cities in his long and distinguished career, some of them on other planets, but he had no doubt that London was his favourite. He loved the weather, to the bemusement of his friends, he loved the peaceful old world charm of the place, and most of all, he liked the people. Yes they lacked the warmth of the Italians, the politeness of the Japanese and the friendliness of the Americans, but what you saw was what you got with the Brits. Their straightforward informality and humour suited Chang’s temperament. But of course, the main reason he was here instead of enjoying a highly paid sinecure in some American university, was the project. THE project; the greatest and most seminal pie
ce of engineering since the construction of the first FTL Warp ship.
His daily trip to work on London’s ancient monorail was a little piece of eccentricity that he enjoyed. Above him, the regimented swarms of AG hover cars hurtled along their silent computer controlled paths while the old monorail thumped and whined between grey pylons, wending its way through the streets of old London town, above its parks, their flowers a riot of colour, over its squares and courtyards and down the centre of broad avenues dotted with figures hurrying to work. London had ceased to be a world capital hundreds of years previously, and was all the better for it. The population had fallen from a peak of ten million to the present figure of four. As a result, many buildings had been razed and small parks, squares and recreational centres built in their place. Roads had been widened and the monorail built to ease travelling. Although the monorail had been superseded by the hover cars, Londoners were too attached to it to have it removed. Mathew’s trip to work took in a few of the old sights; St Paul’s cathedral still stood, so did Tower Bridge. The old City was still one of the centres for world trade, although not quite with the power and influence it had held at its peak, with its few token skyscrapers reminiscent of a, very, mini Manhattan.
As the monorail rattled along the Thames, Mathew’s destination came into view. The old massive Battersea Power Station, had, for a long time, been the home of the South Bank Centre for Modern Art. But maintenance work on the old building had rendered it uneconomic and the Centre for Modern Art had moved to a new more suitable building further down the river. The old power station had been appropriated by the United Nations as a suitable location for the Project, gutted and re-built. Two new fusion power generators had been installed, each of them capable of powering a starship as well as hundreds of computers and tons of electronics and a thousand scientists, engineers and support staff. All of which needed a budget the size of small multinational. And all because of Professor Mathew Chan’s scribbling, he mused. I had better be right, he thought wryly, otherwise this could be the greatest waste of public money since….well, ever.
The monorail stopped on the north side of the river and he stepped out, paused to admire the view of the river and skyline for a few seconds and then took the stairs down to street level. He strolled across the bridge, he could never remember its name, London had so many, and made his way along the river side walk way to the side entrance of the power station which was reserved for staff only. The AI security system recognised him and the door opened obligingly.
“Good morning Professor Chang. You are invited to a reception at the generator gallery at eight thirty.” The warm feminine contralto that emanated from the speaker was the voice of the AI computer that directed operations at the centre. Clearly, his secretary, the ferociously efficient and obsessive individual that he was, had wanted to remind him of the meeting. Theo Theodosiou, known as Theo to everyone, was not a man to do anything once, if it could be done twice. Another group of politicians to be wined, dined and courted he thought, scowling. He spent more of his time on this sort of nonsense than getting on with the real work, he grumbled to himself. But he knew that in fact, the engineering work going on at the moment was not his speciality. He was a pure science man, and the machines had been designed and built by others, based on his mathematics. And it was these others, bright young men and women with their computers and electronics, who were turning his mathematics into concrete reality. In truth, he told himself, he was beginning to feel that he was just the figurehead. His director of operations, the young and energetic American Steven Marks and his team of engineers and administrators were the ones who ran the day to day operations. He sat in on the weekly progress meeting, and reviewed the technical problems with the team of scientists headed by the brilliant Frenchman Raul Sobell. All good men and women, he mused; the best, I made sure of that. He made his way to his office, returning the greetings of those he met in the corridors, and found the indomitable Theo staggering under a pile of manuscripts.
“Careful Theo, you’ll give yourself a hernia,” he warned his assistant.
“We live in the paperless society,” responded Theo, adding a grunt of disgust to
make his point.
“Another bunch of glossies for the masses?” queried the professor. Theo nodded his agreement. “And who are they today?”
“Professor, I briefed you yesterday,” said Theo with quiet resignation. The professor’s forgetfulness had become legendary.
“So you did,” agreed the professor quickly. “Um… the Union of something or other…?
“Union of Transport Workers,” said Theo. “Since your invention is putting most of them out of work…or so they believe, they wanted to see what exactly we are doing here.”
“Are there still people employed in Transport?” asked the professor. “I thought it was all automated these days.”
“Apparently there are…although God only knows what they do,” said Theo.
“He’s not here as well is he?” asked the professor.
“Excuse me…who?” asked Theo, with a puzzled frown.
“God Theo…God. Since He is the one who knows what they do…,” said the professor impatiently. “You ruin all my punch lines, do you know that?” Theo looked miffed, but chose to ignore the comment.
“Not God, but the British minister for Transport will be with them,” he added.
“Do the British have a minister for everything?” remarked the professor. “Minister for Transport, Minister for the Environment, Minster for Culture…Minister for Making Cups of Tea.” He shook his head and took his seat behind his desk. “I’ll just go through my emails and…” He looked at his watch, “be with you in ten minutes.” Theo nodded and bustled off to deliver his load of ‘glossies’. The professor quickly scanned his emails, re-filing them into different directories for attention later. There was nothing urgent, so he made his way to the Generator Gallery to meet his visitors. The gallery provided a view of the huge open space that was the site of the old Generator room, and despite his intimate familiarity with what occupied that space, he never failed to feel a frisson of excitement at the sight. At each end of the big space was a huge doughnut of gleaming metal, rearing fully thirty metres high, each one identical to the other. Two platforms extended from the galleries opposite towards the very centre of each doughnut, ending there in apparently empty space. Huge banks of electronics covered almost every inch of the generator room, leaving only narrow corridors for the technicians to move around in. Huge power cables snaked everywhere.
Four men and three women stood at the railing, looking down at the scene. As the professor entered, he recognised Theo who came over with a well groomed pink faced man in his early forties.
“Professor Chang, this is John Foster, Minister of Transport for Her Majesty’s Government,” said Theo. The professor nodded politely and shook the proffered hand.
“Welcome to our little place Minister,” he said.
“It’s quite a…um… little place you have here professor,” smiled the minister. “We are used to fantastic technology these days but this has got to be the most amazing,” he added.
“Not so amazing minister,” said the professor. He waved an airy hand at the massive machinery beneath them. “In fact, this technology is a variation of the Multi Universe Switch that was built ten years ago.”
“Well, that was no less amazing,” said the minister. “Being able to travel to and explore other Universes.” The professor nodded his agreement, but inclined his head to indicate his reservations.
“Yes. The problem is that it is impossible to control where in the other Universe one arrives at. The odds are stacked in favour of arriving a million light years between two Galaxies, if there are any Galaxies.”
“Most parallel Universes I gather are quite dead,” said the minister.
“Yes,” agreed the professor. “No suns, planets or Galaxies, just low level radiation or rudimentary matter. We have not yet discovered a single Un
iverse like ours.”
“Very disappointing,” said the minister. “But I suppose we have millions to explore yet?”
“Yes, but if we do find one like ours, we have to build a Gate big enough to accommodate a starship, and using present technology that will take the power of a small sun,” said the professor.
“Let me introduce you to the members of the delegation professor, then you can give us a fuller briefing of what all this means,” said the minister, waving his hand in the direction of the other individuals of his party.
The minister performed the introductions and the professor politely shook hands, his mind only half on the job. One of the delegates, a tall attractive dark haired young woman spoke first.
“What’s the difference between this and the Multiverse Switch Professor?”
“Ah, well, without getting too technical,” began the professor, “I can’t quite remember the mathematics off the top of my head,” he added, giving them his best absent minded professor look, “our machine does not take you to any other Universes.” He waved his hand at the massive machinery below them.
“Actually, there are two of them. You can best imagine them as a pair of lenses which are focused at a point outside of our Universe. In what colourfully has been called Hyperspace. Very simply, you walk through one of those rings, and you come out of the other.” He pointed to the two huge silvery rings.
“So it’s a Stargate?” asked one of the men.
“It works like the fabled Stargate, but its range is much shorter,” said the professor. “We can’t actually travel to the Stars, unfortunately.”
“Why not professor?” asked the dark haired woman.
“Well, if we continue with the lens analogy, the greater the distance, the more difficult it becomes to focus both lenses accurately on the same spot,” replied the professor. “At present, we are restricted to quite short distances, as you can see, just a few feet. But we hope to improve on that, otherwise we will have a device that cost two hundred billion Earth Credits and transports you fifty metres!” He finished with a chuckle.