Forbidden the Stars (12 page)

“My parents are dead,” he said out lout, but to himself.

The captain of the
Orcus 1
, not hearing him, reached down and helped him to his feet. “Can you come with us? The ship is just outside.”

Alex nodded, and, prompted by the second crewmember, donned a suitshield to protect him from the solar radiation that extended out even that far from the sun.

As they made their way out of the TAHU, the other figure introduced herself. “My name is Helen, Alex. I’m a Canadian, like you.”

Alex did not reply, still stunned by his parents’ deaths.

A tear slowly trailed down his cheek, hanging a moment on his chin, and then fell from him to land on the base of the helmet. A moisture sensor on the helmet’s inside surface triggered a tiny vacuum, which sucked up the tear, reclaiming the drop into the water reservoir surrounding the helmet.

Alex suppressed the extrasensory images that came whenever he closed his eyes, and wished he could do the same for the ache in his heart.

__________

SMD Event Center :

Ottawa :

Canada Corp.:

After a quick breakfast
of sliced fruits and orange juice that he prepared for himself, since the cook had the day off, Michael Sanderson left his house and stepped into the awaiting auto passenger transport, and gave the navigation computer the address of the SMD Event Center.

During the twenty-three minute trip, he scanned the Globe & Mail newsvid home page on the EarthMesh, reading the headlines and downloading those stories that caught his interest. The press release he had posted on the Associated Press net did not appear anywhere. The news services splashed the latest celebrity gossip instead. People were not interested in science; they would rather read about whom was sleeping with whom, or listen to the columnists jaw about what actor was getting a divorce, or getting plastic surgery.

Michael truly cared about the truth, and he cared about the quality of life in every quarter of society. The best way to bring the standard of living up uniformly was through economics. The natural resources of the earth were taxed to the limit, and expensive to mine.

They had to find alternatives among the asteroid belt. With increased volume of precious materials, there came jobs, wealth, and opportunity for anyone who had the wherewithal to grab it. Handing an average person a couple of dollars did nothing. Like the biblical proverb went, “Give a man a fish, and he will have food for a day;
teach
a man to fish, and he will have food for the rest of his life.”

Flipping the auto transport’s DMR casement back to the Globe & Mail Page, he scanned it for any other articles relating to the mishap.

The deaths of Gabriel and Margaret Manez were reported; but there was no indication that the early morning summit meeting between the CEOs of USA, Inc. and Canada Corp. had been leaked. For that, Michael was thankful. They would have to handle the discovery of Element X and the recovery of Alex Manez with utmost secrecy; outside interference from fringe groups would hamper the CSE and NASA getting to the bottom of the mystery.

Although the translation of the glyphs on
Dis Pater
did not mean anything to Michael at the moment, he was glad there was no mention of the breakthrough. The public had enough wild information on its hands; any more, and there could be panic in the streets. The fewer people who knew humans were not alone in the universe, the better—at least for the short term until the government corporations could soften the blow.

He turned off the DMR monitor when the auto arrived at the SMD Event Center, and a chime inside the cab sounded. Michael exited the vehicle and entered the Center as his auto transport continued on to the parking garage; that set of instructions were preloaded into the auto’s default program.

Glancing at a chronometer inside the conveyor tube, Michael noted that it was nine minutes past one.

He entered the Operations room on the seventh floor to pandemonium.

“What’s going on?” he asked, eyes flicking to the monitors. Alliras saw him, and quickly strode over, Calbert following closely behind.

“He’s alive, Michael,” the Minister of EMR said, his jubilation apparent. “It’s Alex. He’s alive. They’ve found him.”

“What?” Michael asked incredulously. He had hoped for the young boy’s forbearance, but did not really believe anyone could have survived that kind of trip.

“Yes. And he is perfectly fine. They’re just transporting him over to the
Orcus 1
now before they go back to the TAHU to investigate.”

Scanning the monitors, he quickly found the one slaved to the NASA transmission from Pluto. The astronauts had landed on Macklin’s Rock, peeled away the surface of the TAHU like an onion, and at that moment, were emerging from the orifice escorting a small figure Michael immediately identified as Alex Manez.

Michael could barely suppress his joy; his relief was palpable.

Alliras handed him a data fleck. “It’s the joint venture contract and a preliminary charter for Quantum Resources, Inc. That’s the official name. You had better look the contract over before we sign it. Once your concerns are addressed, I’ll pass it up the chain.”

“Great.” He turned to Calbert. “Send up a note to Alex, telling him we’re happy he’s been rescued, and that we’re doing everything we can to get him safely home. I’ll append a note letting him know that we recovered his parents’ bodies, and will broadcast their funeral on closed circuit to the
Orcus 1
.

“Request Captain Turner performs a complete physical and mental analysis of Alex. I want that, and everything concerning
Dis Pater
,
Orcus 1
, and Macklin’s Rock piped into my office computer. I’m going to review this contract, and everything we’ve got from Macklin’s Rock and
Orcus 1
so far, and try to figure out a plan of attack. Forward any suggestions to me, will you?”

Calbert nodded. “I’ve already outlined a number of items.”

“Fantastic. And, Calbert, I’d like you to consider whether you want a job in Quantum Resources with me, or if you’d rather have my recommendation for VP of SMD.”

“What?” Calbert was flabbergasted at the offer.

Alliras nodded. “If you decide to stay here, you’ll have my recommendation as well.”

“You have your choice,” Michael added. “But I could really use someone like you at the helm in the new venture.”

“I’ll—I’ll have to think on it.”

“Of course. Let me know by the end of the day.”

He turned to Alliras “Would you like a snifter of brandy?”

“You couldn’t drag me from it.”

Together, they left Operations, trusting in the competency of those inside to perform their jobs to the best of their ability without supervision.

They took the conveyor tube up to Michael’s office, and once inside, sat on the long couch.

Michael had produced two glass tumblers of vintage brandy, and they tapped their glasses together in a silent toast to events gone well.

__________

Luna Station :

Luna :

Chinese Sector:

Over two-hundred thousand
kilometers from Earth, a teenager named Klaus Vogelsberg watched a pirated-link broadcast of the NASA transmission to SMD Ottawa from his computer DMR on Luna Station and knew fear.

Hands shaking, he pressed the auto-dialer on his video communicator to his superior, Chow Yin. A somber oriental face appeared in the communications casement, dark eyebrows heavy with concern and anger.

Chow Yin had the resources to do just about anything he wished inside Luna Station with impunity. One of those actions Klaus feared was to make him disappear. Klaus had no wish to become an anonymous statistic.

He had screwed up, and knew it.

“Have you seen the transmission, Boss?” Klaus asked, his voice cracking. He did not need a reply to know that the other man had watched the same broadcast on a slaved channel.

Clearing his throat, Klaus apologized, “I am terribly sorry, Boss.”

It was Klaus’ task to monitor all scientific-related broadcasts from Earth, hunting for any hints of discoveries of new products, elements, or any kind of invention that might prove of future value. Klaus would then pass along the information to another, who would quickly fill out worldwide patent forms and have it automatically registered with the World Patent Office under front companies set up by Chow Yin.

Once the real inventors, be they individual or organization, got around to processing their paperwork and applying for a patent, they would discover the previous claim. At that point, Chow Yin and his society would sell their bogus patent back to the original research company for an outrageous amount.

It was a lucrative swindle, one of dozens Chow Yin had running.

Currently, his task was to monitor all transmission to and from Pluto and the
Orcus 1
mission. It was a top priority.

The night before, Klaus had intercepted the distress EPS from Macklin’s Rock, but had thought nothing of it, and had not passed the information along to his boss. How could he have guessed that an asteroid would spontaneously develop the ability to travel to Pluto in less than five hours? It was an oversight that could possibly cost Chow Yin billions in extortion moneys, now that the implications had become clear.

With the discovery of
Dis Pater
, coupled with the seeming light-travel journey taken by Macklin’s Rock, Klaus easily put two and two together. Interstellar travel was within Earth’s grasp, and he, Klaus, may have let the technology slip right through his organization’s fingers.

Before long, USA, Inc. and Canada Corp. would have all possible patents locked up. The fact that Chow Yin would be furious was an understatement, but the eerie calm with which he spoke to Klaus made the young man’s stomach clench as if he had an intestinal cramp.

“Of course you are sorry,” Chow Yin said, his words coming slowly, methodically. “If you had handled your responsibilities correctly, we would be in a position to capitalize on this now. I am not merely speaking of a payoff. If there is a secret element that is capable of FTL travel and if we control it, then we could control the entirety of outer space. Instead, there is every possibility that Luna Station will become nothing more than a milestone in the conquest of the solar system with no mention of me or my contribution. Luna Station’s global and interplanetary position will be completely undermined, all because of your blatant incompetence.”

“Yes, Boss.” Klaus averted his eyes.

Chow Yin took a long, deep breath, and regarded his young protégé with the predatory eyes of a shark. “There is a slim chance that we may yet come out of this intact. It is a long journey home from Pluto; am I wrong?”

“Yes, Boss. I mean, no, you are not wrong. It is a long journey, perhaps as long as six months or more…and fraught with dangers.”

Chow Yin tightened his lips in what passed for a smile. “I see that we are once again aligned in our thinking. After all, possession is nine-tenths of the law, is it not? Contact some of those ‘friends’ that you keep bragging about; offer them anything they want to get the job done. I want all the secrets from the
Orcus 1
mission in my hands by the New Year. If luck is on our side, we will come out of this unscathed, and very rich. It would be a sweet victory to dominate the world—in the forefront, this time, instead of hiding behind Luna’s dark side.”

With that, Chow Yin severed the communication, leaving Klaus’ DMR casement blank. A full minute passed without Klaus moving even the slightest.

At first, the only hint of the coordinator’s reacting to the remonstration from his superior was a slight quivering in his cheeks. Then all his emotions spilled out. He punched his open hand and cursed, “Damn it all!”

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Anger would not solve his dilemma.

Opening the bottom drawer of his desk, he removed a small quart bottle of German whiskey he had stolen from his father, and poured a thumb’s depth in a plastic tumbler he also kept in the drawer. After throwing it back, his face grimacing from the burn as the hot liquid tore down his throat, Klaus poured himself another, and sat for a long while holding the tumbler in his hand. If Chow Yin caught him with alcohol, he would turn Klaus out.

He stared out the window of his room onto the org-garden and contemplated. Was he doing the right thing? How could they be so foolish as to think they could harness the underlying power of the universe in their puny hands? The implications were clear to him. He was a student of technology, and knew that the scientific community regarded faster than light travel as a theoretical impossibility. They had their same old arguments, and would use them at every opportunity to discredit the notion that the stars were within human reach.

Now, Klaus knew, they could stick their theories in their event horizons. That thought made him feel better. Once lauded as great men, those so-called experts would now be scrambling to come up with alternate theories to prove FTL was real, and pretend they had never been on the other side of the argument. Hypocrites.

Still, there was a knot in his stomach when he contemplated his task. He had to ensure he could hire someone to hijack the NASA spacecraft. Even as Klause did this, Chow Yin would see to it that he would never be able to slip out from under his Chinese master’s authority. Klaus would be as imprisoned on Luna Station as Chow Yin.

But, if he did not do as Chow Yin directed, Klaus would soon be numbered among the dead.

It would have been better if his father had never been posted to Luna Station, though his job with the European Space Agency dictated it; better still if his father had never touched a drop of alcohol. Klaus shuddered, remembering the drunken beatings his father would dish out to him.

He had had no choice: either run away from home or suffer the abuse. Klaus had run away, and straight into the waiting snare of Chow Yin’s network of teenage thugs.