by Linn Schwab
“As far as where we stand right now, we’ve managed to cut off their ability to communicate with Earth, which should prevent them from receiving any further outside assistance. I’ve also taken the liberty of ordering Stanley, the Livingstone’s A.I. unit, not to interact with anyone on board the ship.”
“A.I.?” one of the board members asked.
“Artificial Intelligence,” Durbin explained. “Stanley is our most advanced unit to date. There are ... sensitive technical secrets involved that we wouldn’t want outsiders to have access to. At this point, the unit can still cooperate with them, but is forbidden from actually conversing with them.”
“Cooperate in what way?” Chairman Bruce inquired.
Durbin shrugged. “Alerting them to possible threats to the ship. Assisting them in making course adjustments. Tasks that might be necessary to the ship’s operation but are too complex to be performed by humans.”
“I see,” the chairman said. “Mr. Durbin, what do you think our chances are of bringing the Livingstone back to Earth?”
“Pretty much non–existent, I’m afraid.”
“Is there no way of controlling the ship remotely and ordering it to change its course?”
“The answer to that is yes and no. We can take control of the ship’s navigation systems and feed it any instructions we like. But the people on that ship can manually override those instructions, and there’s nothing we can do about that. It’s a safety precaution meant to prevent outsiders from hacking into the system and putting the crewmembers’ lives in danger.”
The chairman nodded in understanding. He looked around at each of the other board members. “Would any of you care to make a suggestion?”
“If I may, Sir,” Clayton said, getting to his feet. “At this point, I think we have to assume that the ship in question is a total loss, as far as its intended purpose is concerned. But there may yet be a silver lining to this.” The other board members perked up with interest. He continued, “I’d like to suggest to the board that we redirect one of our unmanned space probes to follow the Livingstone at a safe distance and report back to us periodically on its progress and location.”
“Mr. Marshall,” the chairman protested, “losing the Livingstone is already a tremendous setback for us as it is. And these probes you’re speaking of are expensive pieces of machinery. How can we possibly expect our shareholders to incur any further losses in connection with this project?”
“Discovery rights, Mr. Chairman.”
“And how do discovery rights factor into this?”
“As the law is written,” Clayton explained, “discovery rights in space are only valid when the claim is filed by a manned spacecraft. Our unmanned probes are useless to us in this regard. Their discoveries could still be claimed by competing interests if they can get a manned spacecraft out to them before we can.”
“So are you telling me,” the chairman surmised, “that we could potentially file a claim of ownership on anything of value the Livingstone encounters? Even if the crew is not in our employ?”
“That would be my understanding of the law, yes. The ship belongs to us. We would just need some method of verifying its discoveries. And I doubt we could count on Allers and his team to supply that information for us.”
The chairman looked around the table again and took note of the board members’ expressions of approval. “I’ll take that as unanimous consent,” he announced, feeling better about the prospects of keeping his job. He returned his attention to the video screen. “Mr. Durbin,” he said, “what are your thoughts on Mr. Marshall’s suggestion? Is it feasible to send a probe after the Livingstone?”
The engineer nodded in confirmation. “I would suggest we send JASPER, Mr. Chairman. His artificial intelligence core is very similar to Stanley’s. In a way, you could say that he’s sort of like Stanley’s little brother.”
“Little brother? Isn’t JASPER a few years older than Stanley?”
“Yes, but Stanley’s core is slightly more advanced. Essentially, he’s a little more mature than JASPER.”
“I see. Very well, Mr. Durbin. Send word to JASPER that he has a new mission.”
* * * *
Still sitting at the helm on the bridge of the Livingstone, Jüergens felt the tension slowly draining out of him. With every minute that passed now, the chances of being apprehended were decreasing. If Practical Solutions possessed some method of intervening, it seemed likely that they would have enacted it already. But it was still too soon to let his guard down completely. The Livingstone was vast and highly complex, and there was no telling what kind of fail–safe systems had been woven into its design by its builders — or what lengths the corporation was willing to go to in order to retrieve such a pricey asset. “Once you get past Mars,” Dr. Shimano had assured him, “you shouldn’t have to worry about Earth–based interference.” But Mars was still a long way off for the Livingstone and its passengers, and many sleepless nights were likely going to pass before they reached it.
A door on the rear wall of the bridge slid open. Jüergens turned to look behind him. His wife, Gwen, stepped in from the corridor, carrying their two year old son in her arms. She carefully set Stefan down on the floor and handed him a toy to keep him occupied. She then walked over to where Jüergens was sitting. The two of them looked at each other in silence.
“You did a head count?” Jüergens asked after a moment.
Gwen pointed at Gustav and Jüergens in turn, and smartly counted off, “Sixty–one, sixty–two. We’re all here, Mr. Allers,” she informed him. “Sixty–two adults, and forty–seven children. Not counting Elise’s unborn daughter. And as far as your earlier instruction is concerned, you can relax now, my dear husband. None of the kids ended up in the freezer.”
Jüergens smiled and laughed a little. “It’s just that—”
“I know,” she interrupted him, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder. “You have nightmares about freezing to death. Don’t worry, it’s not the end of the world. No one’s going to fault you for being overly concerned. So,” she said, looking out through the forward windows, “did we make it?”
“It’s still too soon to know for sure. Who knows what Practical Solutions will come up with. As their name suggests, they’re very good at solving problems.”
“Then,” she said, with a hint of concern, “perhaps we should have asked them where we should go if it turns out this first planet doesn’t exist.”
“Oh, it’s there alright,” Gustav insisted. “I checked it out with the instruments myself.”
“The planet that talked to you in your sleep,” Jüergens teased him.
“That’s not how it happened,” he replied defensively. “I just woke up with a feeling, you know? That I should check for planets in that area. Call me crazy. Call it a vision. I don’t even know what to call it myself. But there is a Goldilocks planet in that system. And it’s one of the closest to Earth that I’m personally aware of.”
“Goldilocks?” Gwen asked in confusion.
“That means it’s just right,” Jüergens explained.
“It means conditions are conducive to supporting life,” Gustav said. “Well, at least in theory. It’s the right size and just the right distance from its star. That’s all we really know at the moment. It could still be uninhabitable. We won’t really know until we get there, I’m afraid.”
Gwen frowned and nodded in understanding. “So,” she said, turning to her husband, “have you thought about a name for this new world of ours?”
Jüergens looked out through the forward windows, focusing on an approximate location in space where he hoped a suitable world would await them. He nodded and drew in a breath. “I think we should call it Valhalla.”
“Valhalla?” Gwen responded in surprise. “The hall of the slain?”
Jüergens paused, then thoughtfully explained, “It’s a place where the fallen continue to exist. At least in one form or another.”
Peacefully drifting along a course through Saturn’s rings, a lone example of fledgling awareness dutifully followed his creators’ instructions, scanning the rocks and debris around him for traces of elements that were deemed desirable. Why these elements were deemed desirable was something that had not been explained to him. Nor had he bothered to ponder the question. The search gave him purpose and opportunity to analyze. And both of these were things that JASPER desired — things that inexplicably provided him fulfillment.
Communications came to him at regular intervals, to check on his progress and his state of well–being. The next one wasn’t due for several weeks yet, but a message was coming to him now nonetheless. A message that would have deep repercussions for him:
From: SCRTES
To: JSPR
Message: —Follow ESS David Livingstone (STN–LV) ... document discoveries ... transmit location. Detailed instructions to follow ...
JASPER quickly analyzed the message and made the necessary procedural adjustments. He’d known that there were others like him in existence, just from picking up fragments of their communications. But this was going to be his first opportunity to interact with one of the others directly. Traces of a sense of intrigue formed within him as he fired up his thrusters and sent off a transmission:
From: JSPR
To: STN–LV
Message: —I’m coming with you.
And JASPER’s nascent sense of intrigue intensified when he received a reply:
From: STN–LV
To: JSPR
Message: —I’m glad.
* * * *
Chairman Bruce stared at the video screen, waiting for an update on JASPER’s status.
“It’s done,” the technician finally reported, glancing up from his control panel. “JASPER is now following the Livingstone. I’ve instructed him to remain a discreet distance behind. Chances are pretty good that the people on that ship won’t even realize they’re being followed.”
The chairman nodded. “Will he be able to keep up with them if they go interstellar?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, Mr. Chairman. He’ll be close enough to ride along with them in their wake. Otherwise, it would be impossible for him to track them anyway, without knowing in advance exactly where they’re heading.”
“Very well. Good work, Mr. Durbin. Thank you for joining us. Keep us posted if anything changes.” The chairman turned back to face the table and address the other executives again. “I believe,” he said, “the next order of business should be to arrange a meeting with Rix Shipbuilders.”
Rajendra responded with a look of surprise. “Isn’t it a little premature to confront them with accusations of negligence in this matter? I mean, we really have no idea yet if they had anything to do with compromising those launch codes.”
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind, Raj. There’ll be plenty of time to look into that later, and take them to task if we find fault with their oversight. But, if we’re ever going to capitalize on the Livingstone’s discoveries, we need to start building another ship. And when it comes to building ships of this size and complexity, Rix is the only real option we have.”
Mitch Fontaine let out an audible sigh. “That’s going to be a challenge to finance,” he said. “It was difficult enough to arrange funding for this one.”
“Insurance reimbursements should cover a fair amount of the cost,” the chairman pointed out. “Speaking of which, have any of you been in touch with our underwriters yet?”
An awkward moment of silence passed before one of the management team finally spoke up. “I’m sure they’re well aware of what just happened,” he said. “Do you really expect them to answer their phones right now?”
The chairman smiled and shook his head. “No, I suppose not,” he said with a chuckle. “But they’ll have to pay up eventually. The sooner we get started on the second ship, the sooner we can get this program back on track. Before we call this meeting to a close, is there anything further that we need to discuss?” He looked around the table from one person to the next. One of the female members gestured to speak.
“I’m just curious,” she said, hesitantly, “if there’s any chance they might actually succeed.”
“They?” the chairman asked. “You mean Allers and his team?”
“Yes. I mean ... assuming they do end up finding a suitable planet, what are the chances they could actually re–create life?”
“It’s never been done before,” another board member argued. “Those people are off their rockers. They have no chance at all of doing any such thing.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Mitch said, scrolling through a list on a display screen in front of him. “I’ve been looking through a list of the names of technicians who were working on Jüergens Allers’ team. The fact that these people ended up on a construction crew is something that should have raised a lot of red flags. Many of them were either students or faculty members in the life sciences department at Stockholm University. Some of them we were even actively recruiting to work in our own genetics division.”
Chairman Bruce leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in contemplation. He tried to envision another world, unspoiled by the influence of human industry, and rich with forms of life whose continued existence was in jeopardy on Earth. The thought of it alone was enough to bring a smile to his face and instill a feeling of optimism in him. He glanced around the table at some of his colleagues and posed a delicate question to them. “Am I the only one here,” he asked, “who is quietly pulling for them to succeed?” It quickly became apparent from the embarrassed smiles and laughter that the others were harboring the same sentiments. While it was doubtful any of them would ever see this new world, just the thought that it might someday exist was enough to spark a feeling of joy inside each of them.
* * * *
At a regal estate in Southern California, a lavish party was winding down much earlier than the guests had anticipated. The event had been planned as a celebration of the ESS David Livingstone’s completion. Wealthy elites and long time business associates had been invited to the home of Antoine Rix—owner of Rix International Shipbuilders—to revel in the mood of this momentous occasion. A video wall in his mansion’s ballroom had been following the broadcast from Cape Canaveral. As his company’s greatest accomplishment raced across the sky without its crew, the atmosphere in the room turned from upbeat and cheerful to a more reserved tone of breathless disbelief. The attendees suddenly found themselves in the awkward position of offering their condolences to the host, in place of the congratulatory speeches they had planned. Deciding he should spare his acquaintances from such an uncomfortable situation, Rix excused himself from the gathering and retreated to the solitude of an outdoor balcony. His fiancée, Monica DeRue, took over as host until the guests had all departed.
When Monica finally joined Antoine on the balcony, she found him standing under the night sky, peering into the eyepiece of a large telescope. She had little doubt he was gazing at his prized creation, and wondering how its theft was going to impact his business.
“This is not the end of the world,” she said, hoping to lift his spirits a little. “Every company has its setbacks, you know. I’m sure we’ll find a way to overcome this.”
“Oh, I’m sure we will,” he said. “Though our reputation may suffer a temporary decline.” When he turned around to face her, she was somewhat surprised to see that he was holding a glass of champagne in each hand. He held one of the glasses out to her, then raised the other as if offering a toast.
Monica reacted to the gesture with confusion. She accepted the champagne glass with nervous hesitation. “You don’t seem all that broken up about this,” she said. “I would’ve thought this would be a major disappointment for you, after all the work you’ve put into building that ship. It’s been your obsession for the last four years.”
He shrugged and glanced up at the sky again. “
Why should I be disappointed?” he said. “From what I can tell, the ship seems to be working beautifully. How many other companies can lay claim to such an accomplishment?”
Monica’s expression suddenly changed to alarm. She felt as if the blood was draining from her face. She stared at Antoine in shock and suspicion. “I know that look in your eyes,” she insisted. “It’s the same look you get when you close a business deal. You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you! You planned all of this! Even the party! It was all just part of some elaborate act, wasn’t it!”
She moved a few steps away from him and looked up at the sky in uncertainty, at the glowing ball of thruster light slowly fading away in the distance. Having served as Rix’s personal secretary prior to their engagement, she’d had plenty of opportunities to observe his business dealings. And though she’d never found fault with his practices before, she was shocked to discover he might be capable of orchestrating something as unscrupulous as this.
“You put them up to this!” she said. “Those people who stole the Livingstone think they’re doing this for their own cause. But they’re really doing it for you, aren’t they! Somehow, you tricked them into this!”
“Will you relax,” Antoine said, speaking in a calming tone of voice. “No one twisted their arms, Monica. I assure you, every last one of those people chose to do this of their own free will.”
“But you just ruined their lives, Antoine! How can you be so inconsiderate? I don’t understand how you could do such a thing and just act as if it’s no big deal.”
Antoine responded defensively, “What makes you so certain I ruined their lives? If they do find a world that suits their needs, then not only will my own goal have been achieved, but they will have achieved their goal as well. Would that really be such a horrible thing if it is in fact what they truly desire?”
Monica mulled over his words for a moment and appeared to accept his reasoning. Perhaps he wasn’t quite the depraved monster she’d suddenly feared he’d turned out to be. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d killed anyone. And in the end, if Allers and the rest of his team had truly acted of their own free will...