After waiting for the slingdrive to get back to the green, the three
members of the impromptu away team returned to Castlebourne. They held an
emergency meeting, so they could get all the way through it before the
timeslippers disappeared for a year. After this happened, Team Kadiar
evidently took care of it, and no longer needed anyone else’s input on the
matter. They would be dealing with Korali and her agenda according to their
own procedures and mission protocols.
Today, Team Matic was worrying about something else. The rescue missions and
beta testing were going fine. The refugees were becoming less anxious about
their new lives here, and really trying to dig in; put down some roots. The
more people who became comfortable with relaxing, and using the recreational
domes, the more it normalized the concept, and the more people who were
willing to give it a shot too. They were establishing a new society here,
and it was going pretty well. Unfortunately, the grand opening was in more
danger than ever. Until recently, it was illegal to cast one’s consciousness
to interstellar distances permanently. Doing so would place the onus on
someone else to properly handle the traveler’s former body. People were
typically willing to take on this responsibility, but that wasn’t enough to
make it part of state policy. Those details had since been ironed out, and
most restrictions that were limiting Castlebourne’s potential as a
destination planet were out of the way. There was one left, though, and it
had to do with the power demands of such a distant casting.
“How far are we again?” Olimpia asked.
“We’re 108 light years from Earth, so varying distances from other core
colonies,” Hrockas replied. He was really stressed out, and spending all of
his time trying to charter the rights to casting at scale. That was what
this region of space was called; the Charter Cloud. The Core Colonies
belonged to a unified sociopolitical community, and to a lesser extent, the
rest of the stellar neighborhood belonged as well. It afforded them certain
rights and protections, usage of certain technology, and aid. The charter
systems lay beyond this region, but not so far beyond that they were
completely on their own. They could request certain assistance, and
technological advancements to help them in their development. There were no
guarantees, but it was fairly common. Hrockas, for instance, already proved
himself to have healthy relationships with the right bureaucrats when he
managed to secure an arkship. But now, that was probably what was holding
him back. He had already chartered so much, and the government wasn’t
convinced that what they were getting out of this relationship was
worth letting him charter even more.
Quantum terminals were a marvel of technology, and a major game changer in
the pursuit of interstellar colonization. Whereas a ship might take decades
or longer to reach its destination, an individual could travel there in a
matter of minutes. This technology was what made it worth it to found
Castlebourne so far away from the stellar neighborhood, and the entire point
of this project. Unfortunately, while spooky action at a distance was
harnessed long ago, it wasn’t free. The greater the distance between two
quantum computers, the harder it was to maintain coherence, the more energy
it took to power communication, and the higher the bandwidth they both
needed. This was the source of the government’s reluctance. Sure, they
didn’t have a problem with one or two people transferring or surrogating
their minds there each day, but Hrockas wanted orders of magnitude more
visitors. And the colonies didn’t want to give him what he needed to achieve
these objectives.
While he was obviously granted permission to take ownership of the star
system well over a century ago, the current administration was now arguing
that they had no obligation to provide him his customers. It just took too
much power. He was asking for too much. If they didn’t reach an agreement
soon, he would not meet his goals. He had been dealing with this for years,
but with particular intensity over the course of this last year, but now he
was out of ideas.
“What about relay stations?” Mateo suggested. “Like, you cast to a world in
between Earth and here, and then maybe another one between here and the
first relay. Would that lower the power requirements?”
“It absolutely would,” Hrockas agreed, “but most of the ideal candidates lie
within the managed territories. They don’t want to give those up either.
I’ve already asked to use the preexisting intermediate quantum terminals as
repeaters, but they don’t wanna do that either. Those are the property of
their respective colonists, and I have no right to them.”
“Well, what if we built our own?” Olimpia offered. “Star systems are big.
Surely there’s enough room for two independent quantum repeaters, or
whatever.”
Hrockas nodded, but he was clearly about to slam that idea down too. “Yes,
I’ve thought of that, but it would take another century to build here, and
fly the full distance. They won’t let me cast an engineering team, or take
control of local automators remotely, in order to build these new repeaters
in situ. The issue remains, I don’t have rights to those territories, or
their resources. For a couple of them, I could probably negotiate with their
owners on my own, but that would only work with the colonies closer to me,
which doesn’t solve the problem, because even they are too far from
the core. I need access to the stars that are under the strongest control of
the central government.”
“Did you ask Team Kadiar?” Leona suggested. “They have an FTL ship, don’t
you, Captain?” she asked Dubravka.
“I do,” Dubra confirmed, even though everyone knew it was true.
The Vellani Ambassador is busy with their rescue missions. I’m not going to
take time away from them for such petty reasons.”
“I wouldn’t call it petty,” Dubra said. “We’ve already discussed the
potential for Operation Escape Artist.”
“Don’t talk about that here,” Hrockas requested of her. “I don’t want the
others to be made aware of it.” He looked at those not in the know with
grave concern.
No one on Team Matic batted an eye. They were curious about what Operation
Escape Artist could possibly be, but it was none of their business, so they
had no right to look into it, or ask after it.
“I think I can do it...without the VA,” Ramses volunteered.
“Did you build another slingdrive?” Leona questioned, having not yet heard
anything about it yet.
“Kind of.” Ramses was hesitant to clarify.
“Explain,” Leona ordered. Then an expression of fear flashed on her face.
Mateo knew that she was still doubting her continued role as a captain
without a ship.
“It’s not a ship...per se.” Ramses’ eyes darted over to Mateo. “Nor
a...slingdrive...per se.” His eyes darted to Mateo once more.
“Oh,” Mateo said. “It’s me? I’m the slingdrive?”
“With a...firmware update, you could be,” Ramses replied.
“Setting aside how impossible what you’re implying sounds like, why would it
have to be him?” Leona pressed. “What’s different about him?” Ramses
exchanged glances, much to the Captain’s annoyance. “Someone tell me what’s
goin’ on.”
“I suppose the secret was going to get out eventually,” Ramses decided.
“Might as well be now.” Mateo stood up, and stepped away from the table. The
nanobots that composed his nanosuit were currently thickened out to look
just like a regular IMS. This was unnecessary for them to function at
optimal efficiency, however, and made them feel bulkier and less
streamlined. He now commanded them to thin all over before removing them
entirely from some parts of his body. Once he was finished adjusting the
layout, it looked like he was wearing a short sleeve spacesuit with shorts
instead of pants. Very impractical, but more comfortable.
Leona stood, and began to inspect her husband. “You are much farther along
on this project than I thought you were,” Leona was still looking at Mateo,
but clearly speaking to Ramses. “Last I heard, it was nothing more
than a dream.” She snapped Mateo’s waistband.
“It’s in alpha testing,” Ramses admitted.
“Well, if he’s survived this long, I suppose it can’t be all bad. But he is
not qualified to install quantum repeaters that orbit a star.” Now she
looked Ramses in the eye. “You’ll install them in my substrate as well for
beta.”
“As you wish,” Ramses agreed.
“This is all very interesting,” Hrockas interjected, “but I don’t have any
quantum repeaters. There is nothing we can do this year if one of you six
has to do it.”
Leona nodded at him. “Grand opening is 2500. We’ll have it done by then.”
She looked down at Ramses again. “Assuming the second upgrade is a viable
option.”
“Hogarth taught me a shit-ton last year,” Ramses reminded her. “I believe
that I can successfully miniaturize the technology that needs to be
miniaturized, and shunt what I can’t into a pocket dimension.”
“These already have pockets,” Mateo revealed. He extended a feeding tube
from the choker necklace that he was wearing. Ramses’ original design
granted access to the food pocket dimension from an implant that was
injected directly in the mouth, but having the dayfruit smoothie suddenly
materialize on his tongue proved to be incredibly unsettling. Other people
may have no problem with it, and Mateo had no issue with the palate implants
for air and water.
“Cool,” Leona said, seemingly unimpressed.
“I can install your suit today,” Ramses promised, “but the upgrade will have
to wait until tomorrow. I want to run a few hundred billion more
simulations.”
“Do what you gotta do,” Leona instructed.
That was the end of the meeting, so everyone started to leave. Hrockas asked
Leona to stay behind, and didn’t have any problem when Mateo and Olimpia
chose to stand by her. “I just...”
“Go on,” Leona encouraged.
“I wanted to thank you for all you and your team has done. I started this
all alone. I always planned on being alone. But your builder has accelerated
construction on all the domes, your engineer deployed planetary defenses the
likes of which have never been seen in this sector of the galaxy. Every time
I have a problem in need of solvin’, you step up without ever asking
anything in return. I don’t know how to repay you. I’m not old enough to
remember a time when people exchanged currency for goods, but you are. Do
you...want something like that? I hear gold used to be worth a lot. You know
there’s a Wild West dome. I built it where it is specifically because there
are real gold deposits there.”
“We have no use for money or precious metals either,” Olimpia explained to
him.
“Ram uses metals,” Mateo added, “but he would have said something if he were
lacking.”
“You don’t have to attempt to pay us in any form,” Leona assured Hrockas.
“This is just what we do.” She took a breath, and looked around. “I do
believe that our work here may be coming to a close, but we’ll probably
continue to use this as a sort of home base, as long as that doesn’t lead to
unforeseen consequences. The whole reason Ramses is doing what he’s doing
right now is so we can go anywhere we’re needed.”
“Well, I really appreciate you selecting my little world as one of those
places where you were needed. My dream is not exactly essential to the
advancement of mankind. I didn’t know that anyone needed a refuge until you
told me. They weren’t in the original plans either.”
“That’s okay,” Leona comforted. “You didn’t question it when we asked. You
just gave us the space. We need to thank you for that.”
Hrockas smiled softly and nodded.
They left the room, and proceeded to Ramses’ secret lab. Leona wasn’t happy
that he had been keeping this whole thing from her, but Mateo defended him.
He argued that everyone was entitled to at least a little privacy. The team
didn’t have many opportunities while spending nearly every day together, so
they had to find small corners or moments which belonged only to them. The
two of them found theirs. They watched as Leona stripped down, and climbed
onto the scary-looking medical chair, just as Mateo had days ago.
Ramses had her read the literature, and then prepared to initiate the
machine. “This is gonna look like it hurts...and it does. But it won’t last
forever, and she will survive.”
“Do it,” Leona ordered.
Ramses turned it on, and let the laser robot arms start doing their thing.
It was more horrifying to see from this angle than it was when Mateo was in
the chair. It didn’t help that he was watching his wife tense up in agony.
But the man was right, it was over quickly, and the pain began to subside
immediately.
Leona stood up, and played with her new nanites a little, releasing them,
changing the design of her faux clothing, and pulling them back in. She
disappeared, and returned thirty seconds later. “Teleportation is a lot
smoother.”
“It’s because you’re lighter,” Ramses explained.
“Me next,” Olimpia volunteered.
Ramses himself was the last to undergo the upgrade treatment. He showed
Leona what to do, and how to watch for calibration errors, then he climbed
in the chair, and told her to hit the button. It started out just as the
others had. The lasers cut into his skin, implanted the gel matrices, then
sealed the incisions back up. This was when things changed. The ground
shook, and sparks shot out of the machine. The robot arms started
uncontrollably swinging every which way. Everyone grabbed one, and tried to
hold it in place, so it wouldn’t go wild. It didn’t last very long anyway,
though. A web of technicolors enveloped them, and flung them through the
spacetime continuum, into the unknown.
