Artificial Evolution

by Joseph R. Lallo

The funk, upon seeing him begin the loading process, had clearly been eagerly anticipating her turn to be loaded. When he grabbed her, she coiled up, planted her feet on his hand, and sprang into the tube as he pushed her, sending the furry little cannonball bounding through the obstacle-filled tunnel.

  “You are already teaching her bad habits, Trev,” Michella said.

  “Hey, she’s in the cockpit already. I call speedy boarding a good habit.”

  Lex climbed into the tube, plowing the various bags and packages ahead of him, and got to tying them down beside his seat while Michella climbed in. As with the rest of her maneuvering, it was less than graceful. She emerged headfirst into the cockpit and was forced to flip herself over in a space that was already mostly filled with Lex and the increasingly excited funk.

  “This ship is really tiny, Lex,” she complained.

  “The word is cozy, babe. Intimate even. Like a cottage in—ow!” He groaned in pain after his sales pitch was interrupted by a designer boot to the ear.

  “Sorry!” she said, giggling a bit as she finally managed to slide into the single passenger seat behind him. “It’s just that this ship is so darn cozy.”

  “Yeah, well buckle up. It’s time for the safety lecture,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Welcome to Lex Express Spaceways. You are sitting in a cutting-edge, state-of-the-art personal interstellar transport. In the event of a hull breach, an emergency force field can maintain a breathable atmosphere for up to three weeks. The CO2 scrubber and oxygen generator is rated for over three months of continuous atmosphere recycling. TymFlex technology will slow any debris to safe speeds, and in the event of a catastrophic failure of all safety systems, an emergency environmental suit can keep you alive for four days, more than enough time for rescue units to arrive. You will experience weightlessness for the duration of the flight. Please pay attention to all recommendations and instructions given by the pilot. They are for your safety. Meals will be provided during the flight. Between one and three times a day we will make stops at or near rest facilities. Our trip is scheduled for two days. Hygienic equipment can be found beneath your seat. Instructions available at request. On your left armrest are controls for the holographic privacy screen and sound dampeners, as well as odor neutralizer and the heat and vibration controls for your chair. I am legally obligated to inform you that I am not officially licensed by any of the major transit agencies, and thus when traveling in transit controlled space I, the pilot, am personally in violation of minor interstellar statutes. You the passenger are not legally liable. We are entering the departure queue now. Please enjoy the ride.”

  “Do you have to say that every time?” she asked, plucking Squee out of the air and cuddling her close.

  “More or less. There aren’t any rules except for the ‘I’m breaking the law’ bit, but people expect that stuff from a captain.”

  “I’ve never once heard you refer to yourself as a captain.”

  “I think technically I’m a skipper, but you just don’t get the same feeling of prestige with skipper that you do with captain.”

  The ship lurched forward, causing Michella to instantly panic and grab both armrests. Squee took the opportunity to drift up to Lex’s seat and claim her usual perch. “What was that?” Michella yelped.

  “We’re entering the departure queue, like I said.”

  “But why did I feel it?”

  “I dialed down the inertial inhibitor. What’s the point of flying if you can’t feel it?”

  Michella shook her head and tried to ignore subsequent jostles, but it wasn’t easy. The sheer length of interstellar journeys, even at modern speeds, had encouraged starship designers to do their very best to make a ship feel as stable and comfortable as possible. The result of this technological evolution was the nearly universal tendency of starships to feel more like a hotel than a vehicle. As a result, most people reacted to unannounced ship tremors in the same way they would react to an earthquake.

  “I’m going to need that patch, Trev.”

  “Sure thing,” Lex said, pulling open a small hatch and catching the packet of bandagelike patches that drifted out. The label read Free Fall Brand Zero-G Patches, with the slogan “Helps Keep Things Down.”

  Michella stripped away enough of her winter outfit to unearth a bare arm and slapped a patch in place. Moments later her stomach settled.

  She sighed in relief. “How long do these things last?”

  “A few hours. And they wear off slowly. Most of my passengers don’t need a second one. They’re used to it by then.”

  “Well, I’m keeping the pack just in case,” she said, tucking it into her pocket. “Now, you’re sure we’ll be there by Monday?”

  “We’ll be there by Friday, babe. What’s the concern?”

  Michella paused. “It’s kind of a sensitive bit of information.”

  “Mitch.” He flipped some levers and tapped some buttons, managing to swivel his chair around to face her. Their knees were almost touching, and he dislodged some of their carry-on bags, but at least they were face-to-face. “We’re locked in a vacuum-isolated booth slowly exiting the least popular part of a space station. This is the most privacy we’re ever going to have.”

  “All right. On the record, we’re going to Movi to investigate claims that they’ve discovered an extraterrestrial.”

  “Wait, hold on. Really?” Lex said with excitement.

  “Really what?”

  “They found an alien?”

  Michella rolled her eyes. “As a journalist I’m supposed to keep an open mind, so my official answer is ‘we’ll see,’ but I fully expect to find some sort of a bovine birth defect or an escaped albino monkey.”

  “You never know. The wait could be over.”

  “I didn’t know you were so keen on the idea of little green men.”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t been hoping we’d find someone out here eventually.”

  “Judging by how well we tend to get along with each other, when the day comes and we meet someone else, I don’t think it will end well. Regardless, it isn’t really why we’re going. See, I’ve been in contact with someone, a double agent or a spy with the Neo-Luddites. He just got his hands on a veritable treasure trove of information, but he doesn’t feel comfortable transmitting it. He’s going to be in a system very near to Movi for a few days. As long as we get there with enough time to spare, I can interview him and still give the network their precious ET coverage. And as a bonus, you and I get to have a long-overdue getaway.”

  “Long overdue.”

  “So, why exactly didn’t you have to call in for more time off?”

  “Right… I… sort of got fired a few days ago.”

  “No. Mickey fired you?”

  “Mickey retired. The new guy fired me for taking too much time off.”

  “I told you this freelancing thing would cause problems.”

  “Hey, it’s getting you to your secret rendezvous on time, isn’t it?”

  Michella shook her head. “Well, at least you’ve still got the limo job.”

  “Speaking of…” He tapped at the controls and brought up his contact list. “I’d better call in now. VectorCorp’s price hike has got a lot of travelers tightening their belts. Not too many celebrities coming through Golana these days, so I probably won’t be missed, but now that it’s my only job, I’d better take care of it.”

  He selected the office number for his dispatcher and tapped it.

  “Henderson Conventional Transport,” came the response, from a familiar weasel in a sweater-vest.

  “Oh… I’m sorry, I thought I called—”

  “Mr. Alexander. I imagine you’re calling to request time off from your chauffeur position. And you’re calling from inside your ship. I’m pleased to see your lack of planning and consideration for your employer is at least consistent.”

  “Wait, you run this place, too?”

  “Yes, Mr. Alexander. We here at Henderson Conventional Transport have
decided that the local transportation business on Golana is badly in need of an overhaul. So we have consolidated ownership and management of most manually piloted transportation and delivery businesses in the vicinity of Preston City. We feel it will enable us to elevate them to the same standard of efficiency as our parent company.”

  “Which is?”

  “VectorCorp.”

  “… Ah.”

  “VectorCorp fired you? They’ve been breathing down our necks at GolanaNet, too.”

  “Oh, is that Michella Modane? Hello, Ms. Modane. I look forward to speaking to you soon in my new capacity as the local representative for VectorCorp’s communications wing.”

  “You’re doing that too? Why is this all one guy? What the heck is going on?” Lex said.

  “Isn’t it obvious? VectorCorp’s decided their plate of revenge is now cold enough to serve,” Michella said.

  “Be careful what you say, Ms. Modane. VectorCorp does not respond well to baseless accusations. We are a multiglobal company. Petty vengeance is beneath us. In an unrelated matter, you are formally terminated in your capacity as chauffeur.”

  “Yeah, I figured that was coming,” Lex said.

  “Have a pleasant day,” Ronzone said, cutting off the communication.

  Lex sat quietly for a moment. “Well that sucks.”

  “What are you going to do now?” Michella asked. “You’re fresh out of jobs, aren’t you?”

  “Well, there’s still this, for starters. The alternative transport biz is booming. Hell, I’ve even started ferrying worlds-famous newscasters around.”

  “I think you should probably look for something a little more stable. And a little more legitimate. Have you got any prospects?”

  Lex hesitated for a moment. “One or two.”

  “Oh!” Michella said. “Maybe I can talk the network into putting you on the payroll. My personal driver. You could drive around one of our utility ships once the budget crunch is over.”

  Lex scoffed. “Utility ship? No, ma’am. It’s SOB or nothing.” A beep on the console alerted him that the mandatory departure queuing was complete. He grabbed Squee from around his neck and handed her to Michella. “Hang on to the fuzz ball, and I’ll show you why.”

  Squee calmly snuggled in Michella’s tense grip as Lex returned his seat to piloting position and took manual control.

  “I used to think you couldn’t do any fancy flying in and around a starport without getting in trouble,” he explained, maneuvering his ship out of the line of those who were content to let the computer finish off their departure. “See, there are all sorts of minimum proximity requirements you are required to obey, or else you face big fines. Hence the tendency for people to stay in their designated lane. Then I realized there were so many of them that the places you could slip a ship between must be pretty tight. If you switch on the nav-trainer, it visualizes them for you.” He tapped a button, and a network of wire-frames seemed to appear around the ship. Produced by holographic displays embedded in the cockpit windows, they were meant to give first-time pilots a visual indicator of where not to go, placing neon bubbles around ships and virtual fences around off-limits sections of space. In a place like this, the myriad of departure lanes, arrival lanes, delicate structures, sensor arrays, and other navigational no-nos traced out a rainbow web of “do not cross” lines. “Tada! Instant obstacle course, and technically legal, which is my favorite kind of legal. Now keep your eye on that blue cargo hauler there. He was right in front of us. If I beat him out of the port, I beat the computer. First one to the white perimeter line wins.”

  He unwrapped a stick of gum, tossed it in his mouth, and put his skills to work. To an outside observer, it would have appeared that he was making pinpoint turns and smooth pivots for absolutely no reason. From inside, he was skimming along the perimeter of lanes and slipping through gaps with centimeters to spare. As he coaxed his ship into improbable maneuvers, he heard telltale gasps and giggles from Michella.

  “Once you get past the lack of gravity, this is just like when you’d take me around the track while you were prepping for the Tremor Grand Prix.”

  “Why do you think I do it? Gotta get the juices flowing one way or another.” A warning tone sounded. “Uh-oh. Hang on tight. Looks like there’s a detour.”

  One of the largest virtual threads crossing the path of the ship pulsed three times, then split apart into no less than a dozen new ones, the port’s system automatically routing the various ships to new departure and arrival lanes accordingly. The change drastically altered the course ahead, forcing Lex to compensate. He wove frantically between the new routes as they extended, twisted, and merged. His maneuvering took him within a meter of a departure lane, where he briefly matched speed with a commuter shuttle. They lingered there just long enough to be noticed by a family of passengers who seemed more than a little confused by the out-of-place ship. As they fumbled for their slidepads to record the moment, he peeled away and skimmed along the top of one of the detour routes.

  “This is going to be a close one,” Lex said, spotting the blue ship. It was approaching his designated finish line and beginning to accelerate for the jump to faster-than-light that would be happening just after its exit. He pushed the SOB hard, cutting even closer to the imaginary obstacles. Despite being lessened by the ship’s safety systems, the acceleration forced Lex and Michella into their seats. With seconds to spare, he blazed through the perimeter of the starport.

  “The winner!” he proclaimed.

  “You really are a child sometimes,” Michella said with a shake of her head.

  “Why should I let kids have all the fun? Unfortunately, we’ll be at FTL for the next six hours, so no more fancy driving for a while.” He turned back to her, adding with a wink: “We’ll have to find some other way to keep ourselves occupied. Anything you might want to try in zero-g?”

  Chapter 6

  Well within the indicated two days, Lex was bringing the SOB in for a landing on the sparsely populated speck of dirt called Movi. The terraformers had really managed to outdo themselves on this particular planet. From orbit the continents looked like slices of moldy bread, vast fields of gray-white with blotches of deep green. Clouds seemed to cluster over the green regions, and as one might imagine, cities clustered there as well.

  “The name of the city we are booked to stay in is,” she glanced at her slidepad, “Gloria.”

  “That’s a strange name for a city,” Lex said, checking the landing charts and setting a course.

  She poked around a bit more on her device, stroking Squee’s tail as the gravity began to exert itself and the creature settled down more heavily on her shoulders. “Ah,” she cooed, “it says here Gloria is the site of the first terraforming efforts and is named after the chief geo-technician’s wife. That’s so sweet. Would you name a city after me if you could?”

  “Sure, babe. How about… Mitchburg?”

  “… Why do you insist on calling me that when you know it irritates me?”

  “Because you’re adorable when you’re annoyed.”

  She crossed her arms. “For your information, I’m always adorable.”

  The ship continued its descent, approaching the western edge of one of the green patches. As they drew nearer, the patch revealed itself to be nothing less than a jungle. Gloria was a neat little grid of metal, stone, and glass threatening to be swallowed up by the forest’s leading edge.

  Lex cleared his throat. “Welcome to scenic planet Movi. The local time at the destination city is 8:54 a.m. Please keep your safety harness in place until the vehicle is safely on the ground.”

  “Oh! Wait. You said it was almost nine?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t land yet. The facility where I’m supposed to meet the biologist opens at nine. If we can get there bright and early today, that means I can salvage the rest of the day for real journalism.”

  “There’s that renowned impartiality I’ve heard so much about.”


  “The bosses specifically accepted my request because it was fluff, Trev.” She selected the contact for the facility in her address book and requested a connection. A moment later the feed was live.

  “Nagari-Hamilton Laboratories, Movi Campus,” said the person who answered, an anxious-looking college-age man in a lab coat. He was hunched over slightly to stare into the camera of a video communicator that had no doubt been installed by someone a good deal shorter.

  “Hi, this is Michella Modane from GolanaNet News. My partner spoke to you about setting up an interview this week. I’m in the area and…”

  “Someone took our offer? No one told me someone took our offer. Why don’t people tell me things?”

  “Well, the meeting wasn’t intended to be until later in the week.”

  “You’ll need to talk to the PR lady,” the man said with frustration. “They actually tell her things.”

  “That would be great, thank you for your help,” Michella said, her bright and friendly demeanor unwavering. When the lab representative disappeared from her screen, her smile faltered. “Interns. You’ve got to treat them right or they can make your life hell.”

  “Funny how the smallest cogs in the machine can slow it down the most,” Lex mused.

  A minute passed, then a new voice spoke up from the slidepad. “Ms. Modane? Ms. Modane are you there?”

  She tilted the slidepad toward her again. Smiling at her with chemically white teeth and a bit too much makeup was a woman in her forties. She was sharply dressed in an expensive blouse and spoke with a slight accent that Lex couldn’t quite identify.

  “We weren’t expecting you for a few more days.”

  “I managed to arrange an express ship. Thanks to the handsome gentleman in the pilot’s seat, I’m ready whenever you are, if that’s not a problem.”

  “Well, it’s a small problem, but nothing we can’t work around. I’m afraid we haven’t received final clearance just yet. We have a few military contracts, and the associated verbiage in our agreements demands that any video or audio taken of a discovery or invention be delayed until the proper forms have been signed and debriefings have occurred. It is just a formality, I assure you, but until we receive confirmation, we’ll have to ask that you limit your coverage to text and approved stills. We expected to have full clearance by the time you arrived, of course, but we didn’t anticipate your early arrival.”