Xena was standing with her arms folded, watching everything from just out of shot of the viewer. She liked being able to see Haafiz while knowing that he could not see her. She liked what little power it gave her because right now, in this situation, she was feeling particularly vulnerable. They’d trained for hostile threats, but in all her years in leadership here on New Atlantia she’d never experienced any kind of external conflict.
Haafiz looked a little uncertain for a second, and looked off viewer for a moment as if gauging the intent of his crew. Neffy wasn’t sure what that meant. Surely he wasn’t looking to them for guidance. His eyes went down to the console in front of him, and then back up to the screen. “Okay,” he said, and moments later one of the technicians on the console behind Neffy reported that the Aegelweard was standing down.
The low beeping of the alert signal suddenly ended, leaving an eerie peace. The lights returned to normal and tensions seemed to dissipate as quickly as they’d arisen. Within minutes the operations room was once again a babble of activity.
Neffy turned back to Xena. “Perhaps you can have someone escort us to your teleport room?”
Xena nodded without saying a word and waved one of her attending entourage to take them through. Neffy thought about getting Xena to agree not to lock on or fire on the ship, but then thought better of it. There was clearly an ego battle going on, at least within Xena’s own mind…and as he’d pointed out to Haafiz, it would be unlikely for Xena to fire on the Aegelweard while the two Federation representatives were on-board.
“Thank you,” said Neffy as he and Ally followed the officer out of the operations room and back into the corridor to the teleporter.
Ally had been observing all this from a distance. She breathed a sigh of relief. If the Drewdonian ship had been taken out, it would have meant death for her, and then probably Neffy.
She had to talk to Neffy. Or else this secret was going to kill them both.
CHAPTER NINE
“Bring them in slowly.”
Haafiz’s voice came to Neffy’s awareness as he came out of the blackness of the teleport. His eyes were open, but it took a second for his brain to register what they were seeing.
The room came into view and he became aware of the bright lights on the telepad, and the faces of the port engineers who had made sure they’d re-materialized in the right sequence. All it would take was for one data thread to be misplaced and the whole ‘port would fail. Neffy stopped his train of thought from going there.
There were risks, alright. Every time.
That’s why he limited his use of such devices. But sometimes it was just necessary, and that was all there was to it. He would leave it to someone else to philosophize about what happened to the “real him” when his atoms were disassembled in one place, and the information sent across space to reassemble a carbon copy in another.
Thinking about that just made him feel all wrong, and he had more pressing issues to see to. Besides, it reminded him of his fireside philosophy discussions with Trent back when he’d just moved to Reykjavik.
He glanced around to find Ally beside him. She was checking that her hands were still there – as if that would prove that she was properly reassembled. He wondered if Ally’s experience was any different from his own. Teleports were just coming into their own back when Ally still had a human body, but she would have experienced them at some point. Perhaps the experience was different for a cybernetic brain than for an organic one? Neffy shelved the thought and focused on the operatives behind the console, looking for the body that belonged to the voice that had brought them in.
“Welcome aboard the Aegelweard,” beamed Haafiz, stepping around from behind the four figures at the console bank, and into the lights. He was bigger than Neffy had expected, his uniform hugging his body tightly, especially around his somewhat rounded middle. He really did fit his stereotype of first-generation colonists, with his stocky, sturdy build and big hands. Not that he would have spent much time doing the actual farming these days, but the potential was there, and that seemed to satisfy Neffy’s view of the galaxy.
“Thank you, Commander. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” Neffy stepped forward, instinctively feeling like he should shake hands. When Haafiz didn’t offer his, he realized that it wasn’t a custom anyplace where he hadn’t reignited it.
“This is Sergeant Alice Montgomery, my partner.” He turned to Ally, giving her space to speak.
“We’re hoping for a swift and fair resolution,” said Ally in support of Neffy’s last comment. Remembering that these people would be assuming she was AI, she relaxed, no longer feeling any social pressure to add anything else. Being assumed to be synthetic freed her from certain niceties.
The commander smiled at each of them, and suggested they move to a more comfortable meeting room to discuss their business. Leading the way out of the teleport room into the corridor, Neffy nodded his thanks to the operators who had brought him in safely. Part of his skill as a negotiator was to treat everyone he met with as much kindness as possible – predisposing others to return the kindness.
The corridor was cooler and even more stark than the teleport bay. The walls were some kind of matte carbon composite, which gave them a flimsy feel, and the floors were certainly not solid underneath the functional, tread resistant, fire retardant carpet. Everything was probably specifically designed to be as practical as possible, as well as leaving the internal workings of the ship accessible for repairs. The ship would have likely been old before it even got to the colony, making it positively ancient now – one of the reasons it had taken them so long to get here.
Haafiz chatted away, making small talk. Ally scurried to keep up behind them. Neffy wondered how many years this ship realistically had left in it. Certainly not many. And the Drewdonians were unlikely to have many more to spare for a frontal assault on New Atlantia. This made him even more curious about what this prototype could possibly mean to them to risk near-annihilation in order to preserve their secret.
And they meant to destroy it if they couldn’t retrieve it, that much he had gleaned. Plus, it hadn’t escaped his notice that the Drewdonians had locked on to both the federal building and a position on the planet’s surface some kilometers out. He hoped Xena’s team hadn’t noticed this little detail. Ally had given him the nod when he asked her to quietly suppress that part of the log as they left the operations room. Still, there was no way to know what Xena might have picked up on.
Haafiz took a sharp right, and then led them into a large conference area. Viewscreens looked out into space down one side of the room. They could see New Atlantia below, looking like a small, brightly lit ball against the inky blackness around it. Neffy and Ally followed him in, and he signaled for them to have a seat. The entourage had followed them into the room. It was only then that Neffy realized they were all heavily armed.
Haafiz noticed him looking at their weapons, as he booted up the replicator on a catering table against the near wall. “It’s okay. It’s for everyone’s protection. We can’t be too careful.”
Neffy couldn’t follow the man’s logic. How could his armed guards be for Neffy’s protection?
Haafiz continued to explain, in what could only be a colonial accent, “For the safety of the men and women who serve on this ship, for the protection and well-being of the colony. I have a responsibility to these people.”
Neffy made a snap judgment. Haafiz was obviously feeling off-balance and anxious, and he was trying to justify his hostile and arguably paranoid behavior. Neffy decided to let it go. There were more important things to discuss, and if he felt safer against two diplomatic agents with a room full of guns, then so be it.
Haafiz pointed to the replicator. “Macca?”
“Please,” accepted Neffy, surprised and quietly thrilled that macca was something even the Drewdonian colony had.
He looked around the room, noticing that Ally had set herself at the far end of the table, ready t
o record the interview. The room seemed to be a conference chamber, probably for operational discussions or leadership meetings. Probably crew training too, although they’d have to rearrange the layout. But the vipassanator off down the long side of the L-shaped room suggested that it also doubled as a break room or even a therapy room. Ally looked back and gave a half-nod, indicating she had also spotted the Vipassana device.
As Haafiz busied himself with the replicator, Neffy turned and looked around at the faces of the security detail. They were mostly men, and all looked haggard from exhaustion and stress. Taking a seat at the conference table he wondered if it was the tension of the current conflict, or perhaps just a baseline state of life on a new colony. Something didn’t feel right, though. There was no immediate threat, and clearly neither he nor Ally posed any kind of real danger. Yet still the guards seemed on high alert.
He made a mental note to check up on the environmental, social, and political factors on Drewdonia when he got to a console. The incidences of violent outbreaks, coupled with the somewhat bedraggled look of these crew members, might be a clue.
Haafiz turned around holding two cups of macca, one for himself and one for his guest. He hadn’t thought to ask Ally – a sign that he thought of her as a synthbot and not a person. He placed the warm mug down in front of Neffy, who had taken his place down the long side of the table, leaving Haafiz to sit at the head of the table, at the near end. Instead of taking the head, though, he hesitated, and sat a couple of seats in, on the long side next to Neffy.
Probably something they taught him at the Academy. Neffy noticed also that he’d angled his chair to be open, but not face-on. Smart, he thought, smiling to himself. He got a kick out it when people used the textbook behavioral science protocols to the letter.
“So, it seems that your prototype exists,” Neffy began. “We’ll need access to the tracking data to confirm, of course.”
Haafiz nodded confidently. “Of course. We’ll make that available to you.”
“Thank you,” responded Neffy, politely. He wanted Haafiz on their side. If he was going to avert this crisis, he needed to know precisely what was going on, and why. Only then would he be able to negotiate a permanent cease-fire between these two civilizations.
“Tell us about the prototype,” he said.
Haafiz looked at him blankly for a moment, as if he knew this was coming, but was expecting a little more conversation first.
“It’s top se…” he started.
Neffy said the word “secret” at the same time, showing him just how predictable his response was. He smiled gently, letting him know he understood, and wasn’t mocking him.
Haafiz warmed, returning the smile. He seemed a little sheepish.
“We need to know what we are dealing with,” explained Neffy, “Your survival, and the survival of everyone on board this ship, depends on how quickly you can tell me everything.” He tried to drill home the severity of the situation, but they were only words. Haafiz would have to decide whether to heed him or not.
Neffy needed more leverage. “You may not be afraid of dying in service to the colony, even if it can be avoided, but I’ll bet the families, the husbands, wives, sons and daughters of your crew aren’t quite as adamant. And, of course, there will be an investigation, whatever happens. The Federation will eventually find out everything there is to know about that prototype, and your colony will experience the full force of any judgment if even a single misstep was taken…no matter how justified you may feel right now. You cannot underestimate the value the Federation places on maintaining peace. If you think about it, our future in this galaxy depends on us being able to police ourselves.”
He paused. Haafiz’s expression was humanizing a little, like he was contemplating his next move.
Neffy decided to push a little harder. “The bottom line is that there is no way you can protect your home world, even with your death, unless you let us know what is really going on.”
He fell silent, watching Haafiz. Waiting. He was ready to shift in any direction based on whatever Haafiz said next.
Haafiz studied his mug of macca, his face uncomfortable. “You have to understand, this technology is revolutionary. Its existence could change the balance of the galaxy.”
Neffy stayed quiet. It was important to know when not to say anything.
Haafiz continued, “The technology is barely even technology yet. That prototype the Atlantians have is actually a glorified experiment. The physics isn’t stable enough, and we don’t know enough about what we’re doing yet to start an engineering team on it.”
Neffy needed to know what it did, but he knew asking outright so early in the conversation would shut Haafiz down again. He took the conversation back toward a less challenging topic.
“What I can’t understand is how a new colony has got the resources to invest in this level of advancement. How did you make such a big discovery?”
Neffy’s genuine curiosity spilled over into his voice. This topic fascinated him. He might be witnessing a genuine leap forward in cultural development, an exciting prospect for anyone with arch-anthropology training.
“It was an accident at first,” Haafiz explained, “We had an energy crisis. One of our main fusion generators went down, and we didn’t have parts to fix it, and replication was going to be too inefficient. So, we put Dr. Sacre on finding an alternative. Back at the Academy, he’d been interested in the Zero Point field. It had been a pet project for him. But when he took the job on the Drewdonian colony, he’d put his research aside in favor of solving more practical problems. That is, until that generator failed. He spent hours tinkering with it, without removing the fusion core. We should have had it secured. In truth, he should never have had access to the live material to run the tests he was running…but then, one morning, he announced to the Terraforming Directorate that he’d managed to harness a few gigavolts of energy from the Zero Point field.”
Neffy blinked. Zero Point field meant vacuum state – the quantum state with the lowest possible energy. Normally it would not be producing energy, but there were theories going back to the earliest days of quantum mechanics that suggested an enormous reservoir of untapped power in the Zero Point field. There was no way the Drewdonians could have solved a problem that had baffled the greatest minds for centuries – was there?
“At first they were furious that he’d been running these experiments without the proper authorization and safety measures. Then they started seeing credit signs. This wasn’t just a way to solve the immediate energy crisis we faced. Owning this kind of technology would put us light years ahead of any other planet. Drewdonia would become the leading authority in no time. Not to mention the wealthiest colony.”
“How do you know he actually managed it, and it wasn’t an instrument malfunction?” asked Ally, always the voice of reason. She eyed Haafiz skeptically, and he seemed to do a brief double take at an AI participating with the same nuances as a human being. It was a good question, though.
“We were due to run out of power,” he explained, “If we did, we would have had to pull power from one of the other generators, and we’d have lost two of the terraforming domes. It would have set us back by two years, just to make sure we could survive. That morning, when the directorate investigated, the power had been captured in the cells that were empty the night before. If he didn’t pull it from the Zero Point field, then we have no idea where he harnessed it from.”
“That’s fascinating,” Neffy breathed, momentarily forgetting himself, “but if what you’re saying is true, then that device could rip a hole in the fabric of reality big enough to create a singularity. It would be like a black hole appearing on the surface of the planet. Even transporting it could be dangerous.”
“Well, that’s why we decided to keep it a secret until it was more stable. There were fears that if word got out, others would start experimenting, and this kind of tech isn’t without risks. And you’re right – worst-case scenario, with
the kind of bombardment of particles that’s required, it could rip a hole in the fabric of space. Think instant black hole in the middle of your lab, and that’s a close approximation to what you might get.”
“But a black hole would swallow EVERYTHING for light years around!” exclaimed Neffy, almost disbelieving how calm this guy was given the circumstances.
“You’re absolutely right. You, me, this entire system…and maybe a little beyond.” He almost sounded flippant. Neffy wasn’t impressed. This was like giving a nuclear warhead to a toddler to play with. These people were reckless and irresponsible. There was no way the Federation would trust them with this kind of tech…and that was probably part of why they were being so secretive about it.
“So how did the Atlantians get hold of it?” Neffy asked.
“We…don’t know.” Haafiz was hesitating. Either he was embarrassed at his lack of intel, or he did know but it incriminated him in some way.
“Okay – so that’s probably where we’ll need to start,” Neffy said, glancing briefly in Ally’s direction.
“The New Atlantians probably have no idea what they have,” commented Ally. She had little faith in populations in general. She’d learned enough in her training, and seen enough since, to never underestimate the stupid things colonists would do for fear or greed – even with all the tools they had at their disposal.
“We need to track that prototype. Can you pull up the location for us?” Neffy asked, zeroing in on the immediate threat.
“Sure. It’s not on this system, and the signal phases in and out. It’s an old tracking device, and atmospheric conditions interfere with the readings. How about I have the data downloaded to the holo here, and we’ll also give you the access you need to that other information? You can review that until we get another lock on the prototype’s location.”
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