“I was expecting more,” said Young.
“More?” said Barrington.
“Hyperspace. Kinda dull out there. No colour. No thought-altering visuals that make you marvel at the complexity of the universe. Fucking grey. Like a rainy day,” he said, sipping his drink.
“I’m just glad we’re still in one piece, Mr. Young.”
“Please call me Jerome. I have a feeling we are about to get to know each other extremely well, John. I won’t stand on ceremony if you don’t.” Barrington nodded. There was an ease creeping into the room as the captain relaxed in Young’s presence. He had to admit he was not what he was expecting. The façade presented to the world when they had met would seem to have been purposefully erected by the leader of Jycorp. Either that or he was a skilled sociopath.
“Do you think she made the right choice? The chancellor,” Barrington asked. Young snorted.
“Ha. That stubborn self-righteous woman thinks she owes those people something. Delusions of grandeur. That is commonplace amongst those given authority, present company excluded, of course.” Barrington noticed hurt in the man’s voice.
“I liked her,” he said. He had meant it of course but also had meant it as a test. Young knew it and smiled.
“I liked her too, Captain. She was twice the men we are.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Barrington, clinking his glass to Young’s. “Tell me about the signal,” he asked Young.
“What would you like to know?” Young replied.
“There was nothing decoded? Nothing? It’s hard to believe that with our technology and with your expertise we still know nothing.” Young smiled again at the captain’s light baiting of the subject. He took a breath.
“We know that the civilisation is highly intelligent and technologically advanced. We know the Monolith is, or rather was, thousands of years ahead of us. We know that the mathematical constants that were sent were basic, but the ternary syntax algorithm which accompanied it was not. When the signal was first detected, nearly one hundred years ago, we flattered ourselves with the knowledge that the human race had become important enough to contact. Then we soon figured out that it made little or no difference, as we couldn’t find the primer key to respond to the signal or alter its pathways from the Monolith. All we could do was triangulate its location and send our own subspace pulses in the hope of getting their attention. The truth is that I don’t think the signal was meant for us.” Barrington was listening intently.
“In all our time on Phobos there wasn’t one scrap of evidence to suggest the signal was meant for life forms of our evolutionary stage. It was far too complex. The signal had been relayed to the Monolith, not to Earth. We assumed the Monolith was relaying the signal as some sort of booster, but we have no evidence of that. We had a network of computers that could have run the planet working on this stream of data, but to no avail. Any why was the Monolith placed on Phobos and not Earth’s moon?
“What happened to the Martian surface hundreds of millions of years ago that left it without an atmosphere, and one incredibly pissed off organism that consumes human flesh and every other fucking thing it comes in contact with? Not to mention the new findings on it which may suggest some form of sentience.” Young reached into a side pocket in the informal blazer he was wearing. He took out a clear, flat data disk and tapped a command into the integrated computer interface in the desk.
“Let me show you something,” he said. “For the last few months we have been downloading as much of the data as possible, collected from the signal over the last one hundred years. I know Tyrell has been working on this, but here is the data fragment from the last few days before the Gamma pulse.” He laid the disk flat on the surface of the desk. It flickered to life, laying out a network of directory options across the table. He tapped one that said DNA, and then requested a holographic interface from one of the sub menus.
From the base of the table grew flickers of structured imagery. Like a scaffold of blues and greens and reds, the three-dimensional image twisted into view between the two men. It hovered between them.
“Okay. Looks like DNA?” Barrington said.
“Right,” Young said.
“I don’t get it,” Barrington said. Young took a breath. “Just before the signal changed to the pulse, a single piece of data was sent through. Encoded in simple binary. That,” he said, pointing to the floating DNA.
“Is what they sent through?” The little hairs on Barrington’s neck began to stand. “Meaning?” he asked quietly.
“The DNA looks similar to ours, but the base pairs are way off. We have just over three billion, but this thing has nearly five hundred billion.”
“That’s all they sent?” asked Barrington.
“Apart from an energy wave that destroyed our planet, yes,” Young said.
“So what’s the point?”
“Could be anything. Could be a piece of fruit on their home world as some sort of sick joke. Or maybe they grew a conscience and wanted us to see the face of our destroyers.”
“Give it to Chase Meridian. See what she can get from it,” said Barrington.
“I don’t think I’ve met Doctor Meridian. This is not something I think should get around the ship, Captain?” Barrington thought about it for a moment.
“We’re such a small family, Jerome. No use in secrets anymore. Give it to Chase.” Barrington stood. “I need to check on the engine room. Would you and Doctor Tosh care to join me for dinner later?”
“Sounds good, John.” Young stood and shook the captain’s hand. He turned the data disk off and removed it from the table. Barrington left and Young took a seat again. He poured himself another drink and looked out into hyperspace.
Tyrell’s Lab
22:55 Martian Standard
“Carrie, help me with this, will you?” Tyrell said to her as he tried to position the large processor under an alcove in the main lab. It was a heavy rectangular box, and awkward to move about. Carrie moved swiftly over to the doctor and helped him place it correctly.
“Thank you. So what have you found?” he asked.
“The planet’s core density still doesn’t make any sense, Doctor.” Tyrell had decided to have Carrie analyse their target star system and report findings. She had been at it now for close to twelve hours.
“Aristaeus Three has virtually no core? That has to be a sensor malfunction.”
Tyrell sighed. “It’s the same reading I got from the array orbiting Mars.”
“You didn’t tell me that?” said Carrie, a little more defiantly than she usually would have spoken to him. He smiled.
“You’re right, I didn’t. I apologise, Carrie, but other more grave matters seemed to have taken over my attention.” Carrie backed off, realising her reaction.
“So what kind of planet has no core?” he asked her, as he continued to install the equipment.
“Well. The iron could have been bound into silicate mineral crystals, if formed from a fully oxidised water rich mineral. This, theoretically, can only occur in planets much more distant from its host star than Aristaeus Three though.”
“Very good, Carrie,” said Tyrell.
“Any analysis would be inconclusive until we are in orbit,” she said. Tyrell laughed.
“I don’t know either, Carrie. It’s okay.” He stood up and made his way over to a diagnostic station and sat. “Look at us, Carrie. We’re on a ship. Traveling faster than the speed of light towards an alien civilisation that we know nothing about. Hell of a time to be alive. Eh, kiddo?” Carrie was confused by his childish enthusiasm. Little insects. The thought of the black monster from her dreams flashed in her mind.
“You look tense. You have a constant look of worry on your face. You really are too young to be so serious,” he said, turning to a screen with star charts displayed on it.
“You’re
right, Doctor,” she said. “It’s quite incredible what we have achieved. I have a great curiosity as to what we will find out here.” She sensed the doctor didn’t quite believe her, but he played it down. The door chimed.
“Enter,” Tyrell said, still looking oddly at Carrie.
“Doctor Meridian, how nice of you to drop by.” Chase Meridian entered and nodded.
“Tyrone, your sincerity is heart-warming as always.” Carrie loved how blunt Meridian was. She was the one person in the world who really didn’t care about expertise or knowledge. She didn’t like Tyrell and didn’t hide her feelings about it from anyone. Tyrell put his feet up on the console.
“What can we do for you on this fine day?” he said, raising both eyebrows and smiling.
“Actually I’m here to pick Carrie’s brain not yours, if you don’t mind. Can I borrow her for a few hours?” Tyrell looked annoyed but tried to hide it. You can’t hide from me, Doctor, Carrie thought.
“She’s all yours. Enjoy your girly night out. I’ll need you first thing in the morning, Carrie. We need to analyse a ton of other potential habitable star systems.”
“Of course, Doctor. I’ll see you then.” She nodded and the pair left. Meridian put her arm around Carrie.
“Wait till you see this, Dice. Tyrell will go crazy when he finds out I showed you first, but fucking see how I care.”
“What is it?” Carrie asked.
“You’ll see.” They moved along the corridors of the ship, talking about this and that, when they rounded a bend and literally knocked into David Chavel. Carrie caught her breath as the lieutenant put a hand on her arm.
“Sorry about that, Ms Barrington.” Her cheeks flushed.
“Not at all, Lieutenant.” He nodded to Meridian.
“Doctor,” he said before moving off. Meridian looked at Carrie.
“Okay, now I know it’s official,” she said.
“What’s official?” Carrie asked, her face still red.
“When did you start sleeping together?”
Carrie burst into laughter. It felt good. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Doctor Meridian.”
“I see,” Meridian said.
“Well, if you don’t mind then, maybe I’ll take a pot shot at the young lieutenant. Looks like he works out.”
Carrie shrugged playfully. “If you like, it’s a free ship,” she said.
“Ah ha!” said Meridian. “Now I DO know you’re sleeping together. Well good for you. Your father must be proud.” Meridian stopped. “Actually, scratch that. Poor guy is fucked.” They both laughed and continued on towards the lift.
Meridians Lab Deck 11
“Well, what do you think of that puppy?” said Meridian.
“It’s a DNA fragment,” said Carrie raising her eyebrow.
“No shit, Carrie. Come on, look deeper,” Meridian pressed.
“It’s not human,” Carrie said. The DNA fragment hovered on the data visualiser.
“There’s a huge number of base pairs denoting a highly complex organism.” She enhanced the image and got in closer to the polynucleotide strands, which curved in on each other in a beautiful double helix.
“And?” Meridian pushed.
“There seems to be gaps in the sequence,” she added.
“Very good,” she said.
“Where did this come from? What is this?” asked Carrie.
“That is a good question. Our esteemed former leader of the world, Mr Jerome Young, just presented this to your father. It was sent in the last data transmission from the fuckers who blew up our planet. Pardon my French.”
Carrie looked at the DNA fragment. “What do you think?” she asked.
“Beats me, Dice. Without an actual living sample we can’t even begin to imagine what it is we’re looking at.”
“So why send it?” Carrie looked on at the rotating collection of genetic coding.
“They want us to know who it was,” she said.
“Bit of a strange way to do it, no? Why not just send a picture?” said Meridian. The door hissed open. Kyle McDonnell strolled in.
“A lab full of ladies. That’s what a man wants to wake up to,” he said, mock saluting. Meridian sighed and looked at Carrie. She would not have let on that she knew they were married. She also knew Meridian wanted it kept to themselves and so she respected that.
“Hello, Doctor McDonnell,” said Carrie.
“Please don’t call me that, Carrie. Makes me sound like an old codger. Call me Kyle. What are you pretty ladies working on?”
He joined them at the workstation and gave a caring flick of his eyes in Meridian’s direction. Carrie liked him. He was a kind-hearted and jovial man and had a real love for Meridian that comforted her. He always wore his lab coat, neatly pressed over his colonial jumpsuit. His thick brown loafers made no sound when he walked and he often commented on how comfortable they were. His hair was unkempt and badly in need of shortening, but he wore it well around a soft charming face. When he spoke, his soft Scottish brogue was pleasant on the ears.
“What’s this then?” he asked, poking his finger into the floating image and whirling it around. It flickered but held its form.
“It’s a big sandwich, you oaf. What do you think it is?” Meridian said, pushing his hand away.
“Ooh okay, touchy. Did we not have our coffee yet?” Meridian simply sighed.
“It’s a fragment from the last data stream sent by the signal makers,” said Carrie, trying to avert a fight.
“It’s not human,” he said quickly. McDonnell was light mannered, but highly intelligent.
“Well done, genius,” said Meridian. He ignored her and peered into the image.
“Look at the base pair sequences. Jesus Christ.”
Meridian slapped him on the arm. “Language,” she said. He looked at Carrie.
“Sorry.” Carrie waved it away.
“Why would there be gaps like that in the sequence, Kyle?” she asked.
“Could be an error in the transmission. They did send a Gamma pulse straight after. Unlikely though. This isn’t a joke, this was really sent in the signal?”
“Yes,” Carrie said.
“Christ,” he whispered.
“May I?” he asked Meridian, who gave up her seat. He took the console and began manipulating the image, looking at it from various angles and at various magnification settings. He went silent for a moment.
“Could be a test?” This caught Carrie’s attention.
“The gaps,” he said. “Look at the gaps.”
“Sweetheart, can you bring up a human DNA sequence for comparison. I want to check something.”
“Sure thing, sweet cheeks,” said Meridian, trying to play down his slip. Carrie pretended not to notice the redness in his face. He would be in trouble later. She tried not to laugh. Meridian pulled up a random sample of human DNA and it rose into view. Both strands now floated side by side. All three stared at them for a moment. Kyle tapped a command into the computer.
“Remove incomparable nucleotides along base pairs,” he said into thin air. The computer responded by removing the multitude of base pairs in the alien DNA sequence, until it began to resemble the human sample.
“If you wanted to identify a species from another planet how would you do it?” Kyle asked, looking at Carrie.
“Propose a mathematical puzzle and ask for a response?”
“Impressive. Not just a pretty face, eh?” he said smiling.
“What are you saying? That they sent us a puzzle then blew us out of the universe?” Meridian added.
“I don’t know,” said Kyle.
“But if we fill these purine and pyrimidine sequences in with fragments from a human DNA sample, then resend the whole sequence back as a completed fragment, we may get an answer. No?” Nobody answ
ered.
“Just a thought.”
“Can we transmit in hyperspace?” Carrie asked.
“I don’t know, Carrie. We’ll have to ask Emerson or Tyrell that. Shit. Tyrell won’t be happy about not being in on this. Think it’s time we give him a call?” said Meridian. Carrie nodded.
“Super,” said Kyle raising his arms. “He’s just a barrel of laughs.”
“Doctor Meridian to Doctor Tyrell,” she said into the computer. There was a pause.
“Yes, Doctor, how can I be of assistance?” came a laboured reply.
“Can you meet me in my lab, Doctor? We have something of importance to show you before we approach the captain.” She heard a sigh on the comms. Carrie shrugged.
“I am on my way,” he said, grumbling. Carrie felt the tension in the room rise.
“Dunno how you put with that guy, Dice,” said Meridian.
“My father says I have my mother’s patience,” she said with a smile. Meridian put a hand on hers.
“That you do, but more importantly you have her eyes.”
12
Medical bay
Fifteen days since departure
12:00 Martian Standard
“If you were in any better shape you would be in a museum,” said Brubaker. Carrie had put off seeing the doctor until she was on board The Agathon. Even then she had made excuses not to see her for fear of Brubaker exposing something. She lay inside a diagnostic tube, of which there were four in the main medical bay. She wore a standard medical gown. The state of the art facility was well equipped to handle most off world medical issues, with plenty of supplies and extra bio beds that could be set up in the cargo bays in case of a pandemic. Although Brubaker was relatively short in stature, her gruff voice was packed with authority. Her greying cropped curly hair was held tightly against her head as she gazed at Carrie’s innards. She knew that Brubaker held a flame for her father. One that was not reciprocated. Carrie had found her to be a weathered type of woman.
“Okay, Ms Barrington, you’re good to hop,” she told her. The clear tube rotated her out from underneath the scanner and split in two, allowing her to step out easily.
The Agathon: Book One Page 17