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Last year, Mateo spent all day with his three daughters. They went all over
the place together, including multiple adventure domes to continue their
beta testing commitments. This was what the girls did when they weren’t
training with Prince Darko, or relaxing in one of the relaxation areas. The
four of them also spent some time in the sunrise pod, which Romana had
described the year before. Today, they were all planning on getting a
looksee at what Hrockas was tentatively calling Weldome. It was kind of a
ridiculous name, but a vital aspect of this planet being a vacation hub. If
someone wanted to visit using relativistic ships, it would take them roughly
over 100 years, depending on where they started from. Even with a reframe
engine, which the stellar neighborhood was developing, it would take a
couple of months. The Weldome was packed top to bottom with surrogate pods.
Visitors could cast their consciousnesses across the quantum network, and
arrive in their pod in minutes.
Weldome—or whatever better name someone managed to come up with—was finished
in its original state decades ago, but it wasn’t perfect. A visitor would be
expected to show up in a generic cybernetic template, and could print a
simulacrum of their face later, or transform their appearance using onboard
hologram generators. Alternatively, they could request a clone of their real
body by first transmitting their digital DNA ahead of time. This would take
months to complete, which in a society of effective immortality, that would
be okay for some. People certainly had a history of planning their vacations
months in advance. But Ramses knew it could be better. He had written a
compression algorithm, which used a technological time bubble to accelerate
the development of a clone at alarming speeds. To save on power, this
process still took about an hour, but the consciousness lay dormant in the
temporary memory core, so the user couldn’t really tell the difference
anyway. This was revolutionary technology, and while quantum casting was
commonplace elsewhere, no other planet did it so fantastically. This could
give Hrockas the edge he needed to become the owner of the number one
destination planet in the galaxy.
It was time to test this. Hrockas was in touch with someone he once knew on
Earth, who was willing to give it a shot. He was currently in a lab in what
was once known as North Korea. The oppressive government collapsed centuries
ago, with the southern border being erased from the map. The area was now
just as much of a utopia as everywhere else in the world. There was one
major special characteristic, where the rules were not the same as other
places, though. As stated, quantum casting was ubiquitous, but there were
all sorts of regulations and policies that governed how this technology
could be used. One aspect of it was that people were still not allowed to
permanently send themselves across interstellar space. They had to be using
their new substrates as surrogates, even if the transference was permanent
in all practical terms. Korea was different. The old body could be destroyed
immediately, while the destination could be selected as the truly permanent
housing unit for the consciousness. This was controversial, though probably
where the law was headed worldwide. As Project Stargate propagated
colonization efforts further and further into the Milky Way, it was becoming
less reasonable to force people to treat Earth as some sort of homebase,
instead of just another planet in the network.
For now, Costa wasn’t planning on destroying his original body on Earth, but
because of its unique laws, Korea was still the best place to test any new
casting technology without as much scrutiny or interference. He was nearing
the end of his hour right now. They were watching the pod put the finishing
touches on his new clone body when an alarm went off on Ramses’ watch. “The
sentry satellites. They’ve picked up an object entering the star system.
Looks like we have company.”
“Are the defense platforms ready?” Hrockas asked.
“It depends on who’s here, and how powerful they are.”
“Take the Dritewing,” Hrockas asked. “You already have authorization.”
Ramses teleported away, and while Mateo wanted to watch the test of the new
casting system, he also knew that his friend needed a wingman. He teleported
too, to the restricted shipyard where the battleships were kept, along with
other related vessels and weapons. The Dritewing was the flagship of the
Castlebourne fleet, though it had no current crew, and Hrockas had no idea
how to start an army, nor a security contingency. He never thought that he
might need one, and mercenaries weren’t really a thing anymore. He was
mulling over plans to ask for a group of soldiers and officers from the
stellar neighborhood to be stationed here on a permanent basis. Mateo wasn’t
even sure whether he had begun discussions with Teagarden, or if it was
still only an idea. For now, Mateo and Ramses were on their own. Since
Hrockas had the automators build these ships without the team’s involvement,
it was lacking in certain superadvanced technologies, namely a teleporter.
They had to launch from the ground the old fashioned way, and wait to
intercept whatever had invaded their borders in realtime.
Ramses jerked his head around as he was watching the screen, and the
sensors. Mateo didn’t know what he was seeing, but it must have been
interesting. “It’s a person.”
“How are they surviving out there without a ship?”
“I’m guessing they’re suited up.”
“Can any jetpack move that fast?”
“They may have been going this fast when they stepped out of their ship.
Newton’s Law of Inertia. If there’s nothing out there to slow them down,
they won’t slow down. Computer, show me their path, and projections.”
A curvy line appeared on the map, eventually turning from white to blue,
presumably to show where the flying person was expected to go in the
near future.
Ramses’ eyes opened wide. “They’re kissing atmospheres.”
“Why?”
“To slow down. They don’t want to be going this fast. They’re trying to
stop.”
“Can we help?
“Sure, we can match speed, and then one of us can teleport out there.”
“I’ll put my helmet on,” Mateo volunteered as Ramses was inputting the new
heading. The mysterious visitor was almost through to the other end of the
solar system when they were situated for rescue. It was important that they
were moving at the exact same speed as the target, or teleporting to them
could result in sudden death, being no better than ramming them with the
ship at the equivalent difference in speed.
It was easy for Mateo to make one quick jump out there, grab the man who had
fallen overboard, and to teleport right back to the bridge of the Dritewing.
“Computer, full stimulant,” Mateo heard the stranger order while their
respective helmets were still touching for a conductive link. The man
breathed in deep with his eyes closed, then opened them. He reached up and
removed his helmet. “Thank you for the rescue, or I won’t go down easy.
Which is it?”
“It was a rescue,” Mateo assured him. “We mean you no harm.”
The man was apprehensive, but open. “I appreciate that.” He shifted his gaze
between Mateo and Ramses. “Report.”
Ramses stepped forward. “You’re on the Castlebourne Battleship Dritewing. We
launched to investigate when our sats detected your arrival. We thought you
might be a threat. Are you?”
“What’s Castlebourne?”
“It’s the planet we’re on our way back towards.”
“What’s your name?” Mateo asked.
“Officer Azad Petit, mechanic of the Teagarden Recon Frigate Twenty-Four. We
were trying to get to Barnard’s Star. It was above my paygrade, but my
superiors received word that it was no longer off-limits, so they wanted to
check it out.”
“When did your ship launch?” Ramses asked.
“It was 2380.”
Ramses nodded. “That makes sense. In 2369. Leona divulged to the higher-ups
that Gatewood was abandoned. It was only a matter of time before they
decided to see for themselves.”
“How far off course am I?” Azad asked. “I was living in my IMS for two
months.”
“Why?” Mateo asked.
“Ship blew up,” Azad replied. “I have no idea how it happened. In fact, I
don’t know that it was destroyed. That was just my guess. I happened to be
servicing an airlock at the time, and some kind of explosion knocked me
clear of the debris, and slightly off-course. That debris might have ended
up where it was going, and I guess I just missed it by a degree or two.”
“Gatewood is roughly on the way out here, yeah,” Ramses confirmed.
“Castlebourne is about a hundred and eight light years from Earth. Very
smart, trying to use aerobraking maneuvers to slow down.”
Azad shook his head. “I don’t know that it would have been enough. I was
trying to find a route that would take me into a complete orbit
around one of the planets, so I could start to sort of ping-pong my way back
and forth, but I don’t think that would have happened. Thank God you spotted
me.”
Mateo shrugged. “Saving people is kind of our jam.”
Azad nodded graciously as he walked over to look out the viewport as they
were reentering orbit. “Are those geodesic domes?”
“Yes, tens of thousands of them,” Mateo answered.
“How long has this world been here in secret?”
“It’s not a secret,” Ramses corrected. “Teagarden is aware of it. We’ll
land, and I’ll take you to see the owner. He’ll be happy to have a new beta
tester, if you’re interested.”
“Beta tester for what?”
“This is a destination world, full of adventure, relaxation, and
exploration. You could spend a lifetime here and not yet see everything.”
While the concept of life expectancy had become essentially meaningless
thanks to advancements in health, medicine, and consciousness transference,
among other related technologies, lifetime had taken on a new
meaning. Whereas before, it was vague and never more than an estimate, it
was now standardized to precisely 120 years. It was all very complicated,
and the rules were still arbitrary, but basically, researchers arrived at
this number by calculating the expected lifespan of an organic human being
in a semi-controlled environment with only certain medical interventions.
The archetype for this individual could take regular medicine to treat
particular issues, and prevent other issues, but this did not include
medical nanites, whole-body diagnostics, or advanced implants. Mateo wasn’t
sure if such people still technically existed, but they were probably
somewhere, defiant of the status quo, and nostalgic for simpler times.
“I need to check in with my superiors,” Azad said, almost apologetically. “I
went AWOL.”
“Did you set the explosion?” Ramses asked. “Did you know it was gonna
happen?”
“Of course not!” Azad insisted.
“Did you turn off your communication system while you were adrift?” Ramses
pressed.
“No, I was sending out a distress signal the whole time.”
“Then you’re not AWOL,” Ramses reasoned. “You’re either MIA or KIA, but
you’re not AWOL.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Azad admitted while clearly still nervous.
“I’m certain that Hrockas will give you access to a quantum terminal,” Mateo
told him. “Terminus!” he exclaimed. “That’s what they should call the dome
with all the clone pods, and stuff.”
“Yeah,” Ramses agreed, “that’s better than Weldome.”
After they landed the Dritewing, Ramses held out his hand towards Azad to
teleport him to Castledome. Azad reached back, saying, “um...hello. We shake
with our right hands where I’m from. Has that much changed in a century?”
“No, I just made a mistake,” Ramses covered. “We better get on the train.”
They were so used to just being honest about their superpowers, it was easy
to forget that the majority of the population didn’t know anything about
them. While The Edge meeting determined that the vonearthans would be given
certain upgrades, they were framed as quantum leaps in technological
advancements. It was never the plan to publicize the true origins of them.
Mateo, Ramses, and Azad got on the train, but the rest of the group was
still in Terminus, or whatever they ended up calling it, so they just went
right back there.
The quantum casting test subject had arrived while they were gone, and was
currently in the acclimation room. This was a safe space, designed with a
calming aesthetic, and access to medical supplies, if needed. By the time
the three guys showed up, Costa was fine. This room was more of a precaution
than anything. Casting could be disorienting, but shouldn’t require a lot of
recovery time or tools. From here, a normal visitor would move on to one of
the orientation rooms, which was also where they would receive their housing
information, and the appropriate access codes. Costa wasn’t going to go
through all that, though. He was just here to make sure that the
transmission was successful. They had no reason to think that it wouldn’t
be, but these pods had to be thoroughly tested before the Earthan government
would allow full-scale networking incorporation.
Azad was the last to step into the room. He immediately stood up straight,
and pulled his hand into a salute. “Sergeant Whinawray. Officer Azad Petit,
reporting in after an unscheduled long-term absence. Your orders, sir!”
“At ease, Officer,” Costa replied.
Azad struggled for a moment, but did manage to relax.
“I take it you two know each other,” Ramses said, trying to cut the tension
with humor.
“No orders,” Costa went on. “I need to sleep, and I’m guessing you do as
well. We’ll debrief in the morning unless we, or someone else, is in
immediate danger.”
“Not to my knowledge, sir,” Azad replied.
“I’m retired, Officer,” Costa clarified. “No sir necessary.”
“With respect, sir, that’s not how it works,” Azad contended.
Hrockas turned to address one of the hospitality bots. “Assign them both
Imperial Suites in the Palacium Hotel.”
“There is only one Imperial Suite available,” the bot explained. “You
weren’t yet sure whether it should be one of the unique units, or a class.”
“Do we have a Royal Suite available?” Hrockas pressed.
“Yes,” the bot confirmed.
“Great. Officer Petit, you’ll be in one of the Royal Suites.”
“That’s really not necessary,” Azad said.
“Sir,” Hrockas began, “this planet is designed to accommodate hundreds of
billions of people. There are currently about a couple dozen. We can spare
one Royal Suite. I can’t have it getting out that one of my first customers
slept in a paltry king-sized bed, or something. Don’t forget to fill out
your feedback card, though, thanks!”
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