The Lifeboat

by Keith Fenwick

  General Smith, Dr Roach and the others were clearly keen to get him down to New Zealand as quickly as possible, where he was conveniently out of the way – or possibly in the right place if a scapegoat was required. Perhaps the politicians, the Chiefs of Staff and the general were not so stupid after all.

  The events of the last few months had all but numbed his brain. One moment he was smarting from his ugly marriage breakdown. Not just smarting, he had been thoroughly humiliated by his ex-wife and his former best friend – the best man at his wedding – who had been conducting a long-term affair right under his nose. Discovering this duplicity had shamed and embarrassed him. He had always imagined this kind of thing happened to other people, but there he was, he had been cuckolded by his best friend, for Chrissakes, and of course he was the last to know about it. After he had snooped around he discovered the affair had been going on for so long he began to doubt the paternity of his children.

  So there he was, almost drowning in self-pity, mourning his loss to a posting that seemed to signal the end of the line for his career. It was a kind of exile to the other side of the country, and he suspected his wife’s lover had somehow engineered it through his father, himself a long-time acquaintance of Wisneski’s and a former senior air force officer.

  Then his world had been turned upside down again. Instead of simply marking time until his hitch was up, he found himself at the centre of action as one of the most momentous events in human history started to be played out. His life had changed completely at the point Myfair decided to land on the runway and take up temporary residence in one of the hangars.

  No matter how his life unfolded in the future, he had had a taste of the workings of government at the most senior level. He had met the President and been in the same room as the Vice President and the Chiefs of Staff. He had competed for coffee with some of the most senior politicians in the land, and he had met an alien. Not only had he met an alien, he had gone into space on an alien spaceship. Nobody could take any of that away from him.

  He had also had a glimpse of the technology that could shape mankind’s future if they could get their hands on it. However, Wisneski objected to the way his government was going about it. Still, just knowing interstellar travel and beaming people aboard a space patrol ship, like they did on Star Trek was possible, ensured mankind would develop the technology eventually. Development would accelerate now whether anyone got their hands on the Skidian technology or not.

  Apart from the uniformed hostess, there was only one other passenger aboard: Dr Shelly Shaw. Shelly Shaw did not look too happy, maybe she could see the writing on the wall as well. One moment sitting at the big table, feeling all-powerful, the next on her way to some sort of exile on the other side of the world.

  “You too, huh?” Wisneski asked. This could be an interesting trip, he decided. Had Shelly Shaw in fact come to similar conclusions to his own? Did she also have a similar plan structured around spilling their guts to Bruce and the Skidians and putting themselves at their mercy when they got a chance, or was she sent to tempt him maybe, or keep him on the straight and narrow?

  Fourteen

  Breaking News

  Rogue asteroid might be a secret government experiment gone wrong. There are indications today that the asteroid Automedon may be on a collision course with Earth and this imminent catastrophe might be the result of a secret experiment by an as yet unnamed space agency gone horribly wrong. Speculation surrounds how the asteroid came to be randomly knocked off its normal orbit and onto a collision course with Earth. Experts say it is not possible for this to happen without the application of outside forces. The conclusion is that some hitherto unknown force or agent has purposely put the asteroid on a collision course for Earth.

  Questions are being asked relating to what factors or forces could cause an asteroid like Automedon to be forced out of its orbit.

  Speculation has been rife that a secret government or military program to capture an asteroid and nudge it into Earth’s orbit to serve as a space-based weapons platform might have failed with potentially cataclysmic results.

  Speculation is also rife regarding which government departments, military groups or business interests may have been involved in this secret program. Many agencies other than the military, universities and various business interests have plans on the drawing board for mining asteroids and also for turning them into habitats for people to live on. Supporting this speculation are images of what appear to be industrial modules on the surface and evidence of a propulsion system.

  It is believed only a small number of international agencies have the ability to mount a mission to the asteroid and this would have taken a number of years to plan and execute. No international agency or government has yet claimed responsibility.

  In further news relating to the asteroid heading for Earth, its current course has it passing between Earth and the moon. This will make it the biggest asteroid to be identified this close to Earth since observations have been recorded, and it will potentially be visible to many amateur astronomers.

  “That doesn’t look quite right,” Fred Smith muttered as he settled himself into his chair ready to begin another night of stargazing. “That doesn’t look right at all.” He stared out across the desert from his vantage point, one he had especially engineered when he had retired a few months ago so he could finally indulge himself in his favourite pastime of gazing up at the heavens through the night.

  While Fred had limited technical knowledge regarding the stars and astronomy in general, he had always been interested in the night sky. It seemed like a great hobby to while away the hours through the night and get himself out from underneath his long-suffering wife’s feet before she decided to divorce him. Just as he found himself with more time to spend with the family, Fred was quickly discovering he was not the only one who had to make adjustments when he retired. Mrs Smith had not adapted very well to having him underfoot all the time either, and the night times were the worst.

  Fred had settled into his easy chair after calibrating his telescope then, using a software package he had found on the Internet, aimed it in the approximate direction of the asteroid.

  It had been – news of the asteroid, – on the network shows all day, as if it were something new. Even real amateurs like Fred had been tracking it for days, but now the media had a hold of the story, it was the next big thing until the next big thing came along in the news cycle. If the asteroid settled on its currently calculated course it would be years before anyone could get close enough physically to actually prove whether the structures on the asteroid were artificial or just lumps of rock.

  Nobody was saying Automedon was going to hit the planet. Fred by now knew it would most likely pass by with a wide margin of error and the authorities had not made any public safety noises, so he decided the information was likely true. Not that it would really matter if the government was not telling the truth, no one could do a thing about the asteroid and the aftermath if hit. If it hit a landmass, it would be the end of life on the surface of the planet, and would cause a huge amount of damage. Dust and soot from fires caused by the initial impact and resultant shock waves would block out the sun for year’s impacting on photosynthesis and the ability to grow food. If it landed in the sea it would generate huge tidal waves which would decimate anything near a coastline; whole nations could disappear under water. Either way it would be an unimaginable disaster. However, he was excited by the prospect of viewing the asteroid up close.

  Fred ran bony fingers thoughtfully through the sparse, greying hair on his scalp. He took another peek at the asteroid just to confirm to himself he was not seeing things. There had been a lot of talk on the net today that more powerful telescopes than his had detected images that looked like industrial modules on its surface. Fred believed none of this.

  This alleged discovery had given rise to the conspiracy theory that some space agency had been responsible for landing a bot, or a set of pretty sophistica
ted robots, on the asteroid’s surface, with the capability of building their own manufacturing plants and producing rockets, while it aimed the asteroid at an orbit around the Earth. Close enough for missions from Earth to easily reach and start to exploit it. The stuff of science fiction, harnessing an asteroid for mining.

  As far as he was concerned, Fred thought it unlikely any space agency had managed to capture the asteroid – this level of achievement would be impossible to keep secret for any length of time. Besides, train spotters like himself kept a close eye on all launches the world over, and nobody had found a launch that aimed a package at the Trojans.

  Fred believed the industrial modules were just an illusion – the asteroid was too far away for any surface features to be clear to him. Yet, for all the world it did appear to Fred from his vantage point the asteroid was emitting exhaust gases, consistent with being propelled by a chemical rocket of some kind.

  Speculation continues to mount today that the asteroid called Automedon has been harnessed by an unknown space agency, which has subsequently lost control of it in a mining experiment gone badly wrong. It is perhaps because of this no national or private agency has owned up to being accountable for the possible disaster for fear of retribution. The White House has vowed to investigate this issue and bring the perpetrators to account.

  The latest update from NASA is if the asteroid keeps to its current trajectory it will miss Earth by a considerable margin and in fact potentially swing into an orbit around us, well out beyond the moon.

  The White House did not respond to suggestions American government agencies had been involved in a top-secret mission to capture the asteroid. A NASA spokesperson denied any responsibility or involvement then refused to answer any further questions until further notice. No other national or international space agency, government or privately funded, we have been able to contact professes to have any involvement in an asteroid capture program beyond theoretical whiteboard modelling.

  With one ear on the television Bruce attempted to make sense of the whispered conversation going on in his head. He still felt was having some weird out-of-body experience, consistent with tripping on some strong hallucinogenic drug. He knew he wasn’t stoned, he didn’t do drugs as a rule, and he thought it was pretty unlikely his drink had been spiked as his hand was empty. All this was going on while he was still experiencing a decent dressing down from Rangi which seemed to go on and on liked a looped video, while he had one ear on a news article regarding the asteroid he had just left.

  All the while he had this really odd sensation part of his consciousness was elsewhere, looking back at himself as he receded into the distance, and the two bits of him were having separate conversations half a universe apart.

  Bruce shook his head. Was he going fucken crazy? He attempted to make sense of the conversations he was involved with. Rangi was still tearing a strip off him, though the old boy seemed to be finally running out of steam, and he also felt he was having a mostly coherent discussion with an individual calling itself a Transcendent, with whom he seemed to be standing on a platform in the middle of the universe with. He watched as he reached out to touch the arm of the other entity and saw his fingers pass through her arm – well, she looked like a she. Some form of hologram then. So which of the hims was the real one?

  “This is crazy, what’s going on?” his terrestrial self asked the MPU who seemed to have come back online, if the icons in his vision were anything to go by.

  You are speaking to a Transcendent.

  “A what?” Bruce’s physical self asked out loud, surprising not only himself but also everyone else within earshot. Some of the police looked as though they thought they were dealing with some kind of wild, crazy man just about to go on a rampage. He could see one or two of them fingering their firearms just in case they had to whip them out in a hurry.

  They might not be too far wrong, he reflected. Here he believed he was communicating with an unreliable supercomputer who was now in the process of telling him he was also talking to some other entity entirely. All the time carrying out a simultaneous real time conversation with the people around him. It was all very confusing.

  Bruce thought the MPU must have got the pip with him again because it stayed stubbornly silent. He was about to remonstrate with the unreliable piece of shit software program, but his other self soothed him somehow. It felt like one part of him was going crazy while another was trying to settle him down and tell him not to worry. Is this what bipolar people had to live with all the time? Was this how crazy people lived their lives, living with the voices? Bruce felt he was okay – the other voice was basically telling him to chill out. But what if it went agro, then what? What if it made him want to run amok like some crazed postal worker with a gun?

  Self-medication. That’s what I need, Bruce decided. He ignored Rangi and pulled a beer from the fridge. He grabbed one for Rangi as well by way of an apology for simply ignoring him when he had a full head of steam up. Then disregarding everyone else he settled himself into a chair on the veranda overlooking the harbour.

  “What’s a Transcendent?” he repeated as he pulled out his smokes.

  He sensed a pause somewhere along the line, almost a gentle sigh as something drew in its breath while it tried to find a simple explanation for this simple flesh-and-blood creature that asked so many difficult questions.

  “And what’s a fleshie?” Bruce tried to get the MPU to respond to his questions but it now remained stubbornly silent, playing dumb. Then he realised this other presence, not the other voice which sounded remarkably like his own, but this presence that had sighed in his ear, was not the MPU. So if it was not the MPU, what was it? Or was the MPU just having a sulk because he had somehow offended it and it was playing with his head. Bruce almost had the impression the MPU wanted to take its bat and ball and go home in a big sulk but someone or something was restraining it. Some force or entity bigger than the MPU was preventing this from happening, or it had a purpose from which it could not deviate.

  Then he laughed out loud. The laugh came from nowhere and in a moment he was almost in hysterics, so much so that he was terrified he might have slipped over the edge of reason into an insane spiral he would never ever emerge from. In the process he spilt his beer all over his pants and managed to knock the glowing tip off the cigarette into his lap as well. The chunk of burning tobacco singed the hairs on the fleshy part of his inner thigh and threatened to roll down the inside of his shorts.

  Bruce jumped to his feet, still laughing hysterically, and brushed himself down frantically. The Skidians and Mrs Pratt who was almost catatonic, the police who were still milling around the place aimlessly, and the Tauroas who had not managed to leave yet, all stared at him as if he had flipped his lid. To be honest, Bruce didn’t care what anyone thought, although everyone watching him obviously thought he was stark raving mad.

  “What’s so funny, Bruce? This is a serious matter,” Rangi said, admonishing him. “Thanks to you we have been caught in the middle of a major police investigation and all you can do is laugh about it. What’s going on here?” he demanded.

  Bruce felt something slip inside him, almost a spiritual thing. It was …

  “Whoa, settle down.” Bruce sat down abruptly. All of a sudden he felt whole again. He hadn’t realised until then that a component of what made him a whole person was missing. Before he was able to go through the routine of trying to work out if he was going crazy or not, a new set of memories and experiences flooded into his consciousness. Subliminally and simultaneously he had been listening to, contributing to and paying attention to several conversations. There were two parts of him – three if you counted the interface with the MPU.

  “Freaky, isn’t it?” his other self said and then proceeded to explain what was going on as the two parts of his mind re-integrated.

  “You have got to be joking!” Bruce exclaimed out loud, further worrying his audience, but he was heedless of the impact his apparent descent in
to insanity was having. Even the Skidians were becoming alarmed by his behaviour, which took some doing.

  Without another word Bruce stepped off the veranda and wandered off down towards the beach at the bottom of the home paddock. He unconsciously put an empty hand to his ear – he felt he was having a phone conversation. When he realised what he was doing he quickly dropped his hand and resisted the need to speak to the voice inside his head.

  Fuck. How are we going to manage that? he asked.

  There’s only one of us you know, this second version himself replied.

  Yeah, but how do we update ourselves? I am not sure I can cope with this, the physical Bruce thought. He looked over his shoulder and noted everyone had come out onto the veranda, watching him intently. They’re going to struggle too, he added, nodding his head towards the house.

  Don’t worry about them or us. You’re not going crazy, you’re in the process of synching, that’s all. Think of yourself as a computer connected to the Internet or the cloud. Your files are being updated on other devices, so from time to time you need to synch everything and update the default files on your system.

  “How is that going to work for me?” physical Bruce asked.

  I’m not sure, but this is how the Transcendent explained it to me and once it is done they will probably won’t try it again. They were not sure what they were dealing with and a physical entity can’t stand in the middle of the universe having a chat with them.

  “So for the last time, what’s a Transcendent when it’s at home?”

  A Transcendent is the end state life form the original Skidians became one they uploaded themselves to the universe, like backing up some software to the cloud. Don’t ask me how this works.