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Breanna Jeffries didn’t want to tell Reed about the man in the photo, but he
didn’t actually need her to say anything. He asked his AI, Thistle instead,
who informed him that the man was still on board, and also where to find
him. His daughter had recently given birth to a baby girl, and while most of
the evacuees were gone, she had chosen to stay here. The child had already
been through so much, they wanted her to wake up every day with some level
of familiarity and comfort. The doctor who delivered it eventually evacuated
from Proxima Doma as well, and was still here too. She asked the mother if
she could continue to look after the baby, and the mother agreed. “You said
there was something weird about the birth?” Reed asked this doctor.
Dr. Duward looked almost paranoid. “You understand that most kids being born
these days gestate in artificial tanks, right?”
“I do.”
“That’s because giving birth kinda sucks,” Dr. Duward explained the obvious.
“Proxima Doma has—I’m sorry, had—more live births than anywhere in
the galaxy, which is why I still have a job. I’ve been doing it for 550
years now. If you’re trying to do that math, I was twelve years old when I
had to deliver my older sister’s baby. Mama was drunk, daddy was at work,
and I was in charge. Since then, I have successfully welcomed over 100,000
new human beings into this universe. Every single one of the mothers was in
pain, whether we gave them drugs or not. Granted, traditional births are my
specialty. Nanomedicine can make even live births painless, but
that’s just not what I do. They come to me because they don’t want that.
This woman, Aeterna refused any sort of pain relief. She refused an IV;
everything. The baby just slipped out. She came in to inform us that her
water broke, and it was time, then she crawled in bed, and let it out. No
struggle, no contractions, barely any labor time. It started, and it was
done. We have some impressive transhumans in the galaxy, but I’ve never seen
anything like her.”
“How’s the baby?”
“Little Dilara is fine,” Dr. Duward replied. “We performed the very basic
tests, and followed procedure, but didn’t have to provide any unusual
treatments. She cried a little bit but stopped quickly. I hesitate to say
this, but it was almost like she was putting on a show...like she knew we
expected her to cry, but after that, she quieted down and just lay there
against her mother’s chest.”
“Who else have you told about this?” Reed presses.
“No one,” Dr. Duward answers. “Like I said, she came in so quick, the only
people there were me and my nurse. And she won’t tell anyone unless I order
her to.”
“No bots need their memories erased?” he suggested.
“We didn’t use bots down there. Traditional births, remember?”
“Right. Well, I need this family on my side, so keep it to yourself. In
fact, if you could just move on and pretend like it never happened, that
would be for the best.”
“This sounds important to you,” she noted.
He sighed. “What do you want?”
“I want the quantum signature for New Earth.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Reed replied honestly.
“I gave a consultation to a Teaguardian a few weeks ago, and overheard them
talking about it. They’re about to go on assignment there, and are actually
happy that you delayed their departure. It’s very hush-hush, but they said
it was 121 light years away. They’ll have to give it a huge berth because I
think it’s a protected human preserve. No advanced interference. It sounds
like it’s basically a base reality ancestor simulation. They’ll need a good
OB/GYN.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have access to that. I’m just a Bungulan
captain.”
“I suggest you find it,” the doctor said. She was not who he thought she was
just a moment ago when they first met.
“I don’t like being blackmailed.”
“I don’t like being ripped from my home, but things happen.”
Reed nodded. “I’ll get you to this New Earth place, but I need to
speak with the family first.”
“Go right ahead.” Dr. Duward stepped off to the side.
Reed walked down the hallway, and rang the doorbell.
A man quickly opened it. “Hey. They’re both sleeping,” he hissed.
“That’s not what the door indicator says.” Reed pointed at the indicator
tube, which lit up for different conditions, such as sleeping, emergency, or
unoccupied.
“I don’t know how that stuff works,” the guy said. He looked back to make
sure that mother and baby weren’t awakened, then slipped out of the room,
and closed the door behind him. “Can I help you?”
“First of all, I’m Captain Reed Ellis—”
“I know who you are, I’m not impressed. What do you want?”
“The Vellani Ambassador. You seem to be a crewmember of it. Tertius
Valerius?”
“Not really anymore, why?” Tertius questioned.
“There are whispers that it can travel faster than light,” Reed said.
Tertius folded his arms. “Lots of ships can do that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say lots. It seems to only be Teaguardians, and yours. Do
you work for Teagarden?”
Tertius snorted. “No. The Ambassador is a stateless vessel. Well, I think it
technically flies the Castlebourne flag now, but that’s more of a matter of
logistics.”
“Well, anyway. You are aware of the circumstances of the Tangent, aren’t
you? I commandeered it.”
“I know.”
“Your daughter bene—”
Tertius waved his hand dismissively to interrupt Reed again. “Don’t play on
my sentimentality. Just spit it out.”
“As of today, we’re maybe one-third of the way through our rescue efforts,”
Reed continued. “Months from now, when it’s over, and the last evacuee is
safely off the platform, I have promised to release the hostages, and forgo
my leverage. What I have not promised is to return the Tangent and
turn myself in. My crew hasn’t done that either, and I don’t want them to
have to. I don’t know where we would go, but if we try to run with what
we’ve got, they’ll catch us. I don’t want to hold hostages past the rescue.
I certainly don’t want to hold them forever. I don’t want to condemn my
people to decades of prison either, though. You have no obligation to do
anything for us. If you refuse, you and your family can stay as long as you
want, or leave whenever you want. You are in no way hostages. I’m asking you
with my tail between my legs, and my hat in hand, will you help?”
Tertius stared at Reed, presumably in thought. “Over a hundred years ago,
the brightest minds in history you’ve never heard of held a meeting. It was
called The Edge. They had developed certain advanced technologies, and
limited their use to a select few who needed it. I won’t get into who these
inventors were, or anything about our subculture, but the year 2400 marked
the end of that exclusivity. It was inevitable that the general population
would uncover the truths. So these inventors agreed to hand out some of
these technologies to some others, in some ways. Don’t ask me for details,
anything I happen to know about The Edge is still not common knowledge. What
I’ll tell you, however, is that The Vellani Ambassador operates under a
special form of FTL that was not a part of any agreement, with
Teagarden, or anyone else. That will probably never be made public. It’s too
powerful, it’s too dangerous, and it has some serious theoretical
applications that could quite literally destroy the universe. The reframe
engine, however, is a different story. That is what the Teaguardians use. It
caps out at 707c. That’s a fundamental physical limitation of the mechanism,
and there’s no going beyond it.”
“Okay. I’m not picky. Even simply being on par with them would be useful.”
“Well, I’m not an engineer, I don’t know how to build a reframe engine. The
way I understand it, it’s only half of the equation. In order to reach
maximum reframe, you have to already be able to reach maximum sublight. Can
the Tangent do that?”
Reed sighed. “It can’t. It uses classical fusion, not antimatter.”
“That’s going to be a problem,” Tertius said. “Let me put it this way, if
this thing were moving at its maximum speed, and traveled one light year,
how long would it feel like on the ship?”
Reed tapped on his wrist device to make the calculation. “About 1.73 years,
but it would take two years in realtime.”
Tertius nodded. “If someone smarter than me installed a reframe engine, it
would take you 1.73 years. That’s what you would experience, and that’s how
much time would pass for everyone not on the ship. That’s what the reframe
engine does. It makes those two numbers the same. It doesn’t just
arbitrarily go fast. You still have to reach certain speeds, the engine just
consolidates the reference frames. It reframes the passage of time so
everyone ends up on the same page.”
Reed leaned his head back at hearing this, and regarded Tertius. “That’s why
there’s a maximum speed overall. You’re not actually breaking the light
barrier.”
“Bingo.”
“But this Ambassador, it goes faster. It indeed breaks the light barrier.
True FTL.”
“I wouldn’t tell you how it worked, even if I understood it. I won’t even
name it for you, because that alone would give you too much
information.”
“Would they be willing to help, though?” Reed pressed. “Maybe they can just
pull us away once, and then leave us wherever, just so we can find someplace
to hide, and maybe some lasting peace.”
Tertius looked up at the walls and ceiling. “The VA’s mission is not unlike
yours. They rescue people from bad situations. The difference is, they
didn’t steal their ship to do it. The intelligence that designed it is still
there. Well...the person who designed the special FTL tech isn’t, but they
gave their contribution away freely. Anyway, the people they rescue are
innocent. The people they’re rescuing them from? Not so much.
You...are neither. Mirage would understand why you did what you did, but she
wouldn’t reward you for it. She would expect you to accept the consequences
of your actions. I know her well, I can hear her say that in my head. Before
you ask, the person who came up with the magical FTL isn’t available
until...” He tapped on his handheld device. “Let me do my own
calculations...August. And even if we were able to find him on that date, he
would only be able to help you for a day, and then you would have to wait a
whole year for his return.”
“Huh?” Reed didn’t understand all this FTL stuff, but he wasn’t even
following the logic of what Tertius just said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Tertius replied, shaking his head. “The point is, it
can’t be done. I would love to help, but it’s just not gonna happen. I can
reach out to Mirage, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. And if by
some miracle, she does say yes, you’re not keeping the Tangent. It would be
like trying to stuff a skyscraper in the trunk of your car. At best,
she would ferry all the people somewhere safe.”
“That’s all I can ask.” Reed pulled up his contact card. “You can reach me
any time. It has my quantum signature on it if she’s on the other side of
the universe, and wants to talk to me personally. Now, before I leave you,
how big is this reframe engine?”
“I think it scales to the size of the vessel,” Tertius answered. “I can
probably get you the specs, but you’re gonna be done with the evacuation in,
what, a few months? It’s gonna take longer than that for you to build one
from scratch.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Mister Valerius. I’ll let you get back
to your family now. Please do stay in touch. I’ll give you anything you
need.”
Reed walked away and returned to his bridge office.
Shasta was already there, which was good. “Hey. I wanted to let you know,
Vasily has been asking for you. I have no idea what it’s about.”
“That can wait,” Reed decided, possibly forever. “We have more important
things to worry about. I need ideas for how we can prolong the southern
evacuation. We need to stall for time while we come up with a more long-term
solution to our little problem.”
Shasta considered it for a moment. “Well, if that’s what we need, that
unauthorized express trip was actually good news. Maybe we need more time to
inspect all the tethers. Maybe the constant up and down placed too much
stress on them, and they all require maintenance. And maybe to prevent that
from being a problem again, we need to slow the trips moving forward.”
“Okay, those are all good ideas. Let’s start working on it, but obviously
don’t explain to anyone why.”
“I don’t even know why,” Shasta admitted.
“Good. I’ll tell you later so it’s easier for you to spread the new plan.
Slower ascents and descents. But not too bad. It doesn’t need to take
years, and in fact, that would backfire on us. Just maybe another month.”
“Got it, I’ll talk to Trilby to calculate the math on that. He won’t ask
questions.”
“Actually, I need to talk to him myself. I’ll go with you.” His device
beeped, so he stopped to check it.
It was a message from Tertius.
Found this while I was digging up the specifications for the reframe
engine. I didn’t realize that The Shortlist gave Teagarden access to this
tech. It might have come in handy a few months ago.
Reed tapped on the file, and read the overview. “On second thought, I’ll
talk with Trilby later. Go ahead and do your thing. I need to set up a
meeting with someone else.”
It was only a few hours later. Reed was back in the dusty hot interrogation
room of a virtual environment. President Burkhart Abrams resolved in front
of him, sitting in the chair. “What am I doing here, Ellis? Something wrong
with the evacuation? Can’t stay in place? Are you demanding pizza for all
the gunmen and hostages?”
Reed threw a tablet on the table hard enough to make it break in the real
world, but it landed undamaged. “If you already knew, then this won’t come
as a surprise, but if you didn’t know, then I encourage you to verify
it...quietly.” He needed to test him.
Abrams reluctantly picked up the tablet, and started looking over the info.
He threw it down with nearly as much gusto. “This reads like science
fiction.”
“It’s not, it’s real. I’m guessing you didn’t know about it, because you’re
not that good of a liar. So now you have to ask yourself, for the first time
in all of this, are we on the same side?”
“Why the hell would we be on the same side? Teagarden is only letting you do
this because you have leverage. You and I are not friends.”
“What about Matar Galo? Is she a friend?”
“She’s my superior officer.”
“Right.” Reed leaned forward, and repeated, “right” as he was swiping to the
next page. “And because she’s your superior, she had no obligation to tell
you about this.”
“If it’s true...if it exists, then no, of course she didn’t. She didn’t
invent military secrets. What are you driving at here?”
Reed shook his head. “You commanded two Teaguardians for Proxima Doma. These
people were your friends. You were here to protect them, and the
one time when they really needed you, you couldn’t do shit.
You just sat there, staring at the screen, utterly hopeless. Useless. A
giant paperweight floating in space.” He angrily pointed at the tablet. “If
you had this kind of technology, you may have been able to save them all.”
Abrams scoffed and shook his head.
“Maybe not all, but a lot; at least more. I wouldn’t have needed to steal a
damn thing. It wouldn’t have occurred to me. I just didn’t think we had any
other options. But she—she had this. Your military had this.” He
swiped over again. “Apparently, Gatewood has it too. Why does Gatewood have
it? Nobody lives there!”
“You’re right. This would have been a game-changer, but if she didn’t
come here with it, she must have had her reasons. Maybe it’s not ready.
Maybe only a tiny shuttle has a prototype of it. We don’t know. This
document doesn’t say anything about the actual operational deployment. It
just claims that it exists, and it’s in the Teagarden’s privileged data
vault. I’m not going to ask how you got your hands on it, but this...this
means nothing. It proves nothing.”
“Burkhart, this is real. They have teleportation, like freakin’ Star Trek.
They left your friends to die when they could have just beamed them into the
sky. They didn’t even read you in. They did nothing.” Reed pointed to his
own chest. “I did something. I came here. I risked everything to save the
people that you were sworn to defend. Aren’t you angry about that? I
would be livid. I am.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I believe you, and I’ve never been more pissed off about
anything in my whole life. What the hell does it matter? The south is
stable. The elevators are working. There’s no point in rocking the boat now.
Just finish your mission, and turn yourself in, like you promised.”
“I never promised that.”
Abrams dismissed it. “That’s not my problem. They’re not gonna give us
teleportation. What are you gonna do? Try to steal it?”
Reed shook his head. “No, not that. Like you said, we don’t know where it
is. But I need to steal something else, and to make up for being unable to
do anything for the Proxima Domanians before I showed up...I want you to
help me.”
