Chapter 23
The minute Dawson confirmed that they were heading for Mars he left his companion to watch for anything unusual over the link and left his quarters. He stepped from the deck ring platform in to the lift column and said “bridge”. Smart of them to use the Fed-Ex ship. I never would have known to look for them there, I’d have thought they’d have taken a charter or passenger liner, he thought as he ascended towards the bridge.
The door to the bridge slid open as he reached it, and he was lifted through. The bridge seemed more active now. All the stations were manned, and the Captain was speaking with Lt. Commander Bowman. They both noted his entrance and halted their conversation.
“News, Agent Dawson?” the Captain asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Yes, we need to depart for Mars immediately. Our quarry is already under power and it seems they are more resourceful than expected. They are using a Fed-Ex express to get there which should make it interesting.”
“We are pursuing people, I gather, and not a package?” Captain Whetherstone said, smirking.
“Yes, and I will fully explain the situation to you once we’re underway,” Dawson replied with a grin. “Can we beat them?”
“Have no fear, Agent Dawson. The Powel will beat them there.” The Captain turned to the bridge. “Com, make some discrete inquires as to the flight plan of the Express and send them to Nav.”
“Aye, Captain,” the communications officer replied.
“Nav, plot a course solution to beat them to Mars by…” The Captain looked to Dawson.
“A day would be nice; a half day would be acceptable,” Dawson responded.
“Nav, give me both options.”
“Aye, Captain. Receiving flight plan and calculating solutions…For twenty four hour advance arrival, two point one. For twelve hour advance arrival, one point three.”
“Agent Dawson, we’ll thrust at one point three gees. We could do two point one, but that is not a pleasant amount of gravity to have to endure for days.”
“Fine with me, so long as we beat them there,” Dawson agreed.
“Good. Nav, set our destination for Mars at 1.3. And tactical, get a passive sensor lock on the Fed-Ex Mars Express ship and keep them on the scopes,” the Captain ordered.
“Aye, Captain,” the Nav officer replied. “Two minutes.”
“Aye, Captain,” the tactical officer echoed.
Lt. Bowman initiated the ship’s intercom and made the announcement. “Attention all hands. Prepare for thrust at one point three, in two minutes.”
Dawson looked around the bridge curiously. The whole situation was a little surreal. He’d seen plenty of vids and played plenty of stims that had a Fleet military flavor, but as in most things reality was always a little different. In the stims the bridge was always an information overload with three dimensional displays all over and many more crew members wandering around. Here it was much more quiet. Each station had a small screen, but most of the crew were doing everything through their implants. Dawson was sure that if he could see the displays that they had running in their ocular implants the whole thing would be a different story, but it mostly looked pretty boring.
“Would you like a seat, Agent Dawson?” Lt. Commander Bowman asked, indicating the few spare restraint chairs at the back of the bridge. “One point three gees can be a little different than one.”
“No, I’m fine standing,” he answered.
“Suit yourself,” the Lt. Commander said, taking a seat.
The Captain took her seat as well. Dawson thought better of his previous decision and sat down too. He was already starting to feel a little heavier, and wondered why.
“Thrust in twenty seconds,” the Nav officer informed them. He gave a count down in the final ten seconds, and then the acceleration set in.
“Disengaging simulated gravity,” one of the officers at the station marked environmental said.
The transition was actually fairly seamless. The simulated gravity must have been ramped up over the two minute count down to match their intended thrust level. The only cue that it had been switched off at all was the sudden disappearance of that slightly queasy feeling Dawson had had in his stomach. It was better than the sudden jolt that one got in most craft, and he reasoned that in a tactical situation that type of dampening system could really help.
“Engineering, what’s your status?” the Captain asked after a minute.
“Engines are nominal,” Engineering replied over the com.
“Good,” the Captain said. “Well, Agent Dawson, if possible, I’d like that mission briefing that you alluded to earlier, and if you don’t mind, I’d like the Lt. Commander to join us.”
Dawson agreed.
“Let’s head down to the briefing room,” the Captain continued, moving for the lift tube. The tube opened, and she commanded, “Deck two.”
The Lt. Commander and Dawson imitated her, and they all descended quickly. The captain stepped out of the lift tube, and they followed. The doors to the briefing room opened as she approached. The room was large enough for ten comfortably, twenty if people crammed. There was a small table with restraint chairs arranged around it. The rest of the room was plain, except for what looked like a painting of the Powel under thrust with the Earth in the background which Dawson supposed was a screen. Bowman sat down on the side of the table where the painting was located, and Dawson sat on the other.
“So, Agent Dawson, what is our mission? We’ve been hurried through refueling and provisioning after just completing two months in space to pick you up and do whatever you ask. Our orders came from the very top, and I gather you know who I mean,” Captain Whetherstone said seriously.
“I’m sorry you were inconvenienced, but, yes, I know who you mean and he tends to forget about people’s needs or comfort. I’d rather not have to be here at all but as the mission is of top importance, none of us have any choice.”
“We are in pursuit of three individuals. Terra Gates-yes, the one from Mars,” Dawson answered before they could ask. “Jeff Hughes, who was director of the restoration division until he resigned after the virus attack and Gregory Hillman, a Newbie who is working with them. We are following them because we hope they will lead us to our real objective which is Sam Storm 6.7, the man responsible for the virus attack on the restoration data storage system.”
Dawson had been expecting a big reaction, but when he got none, he continued. “We have reason to believe that the virus may have been only a precursor to something much more destructive. I am supposed to find and bring Storm in alive if possible and eliminate the threat he represents to the solar system.”
“What do you think his capabilities are? What further threat are you expecting?” Bowman asked.
“We have evidence that when he worked at the LNRC, Sam Storm may have been able to smuggle out an unlimited assembler,” Dawson revealed.
“Are you serious?” the Captain asked. The surprise he had expected before was there now.
“Yes, Storm is an accomplished nanotech engineer, and we don’t doubt that he will use that assembler to accomplish his goals, whatever those may be. That’s why we think the virus may have simply been a warning for things to come. I don’t have to tell you what that assembler could do in his hands, the wrong hands.”
“No, you don’t,” Bowman agreed. “Do we have any idea where Storm is?”
“We suspect that he is out near Saturn, but that is the best estimate we’ve had. He did all his work through third parties and his own agents in the datasphere. No one has actually seen him in person for several years.”
“So why these other three?” the Captain asked.
“Terra Gates is recently restored and is eight years out of date. We suspect her previous version was helping Storm in some way. He promised her something for her help, probably something that will upset the balance of power in the solar system. Jeff Hughes was Storm’s crèche mate and proba
bly wants an explanation as to why Storm used him unknowingly to implant the virus into the system. Gregory Hillman seems to be an old acquaintance of Storm’s though we don’t know what his reasons are for going along with the others.”
“So our mission is to follow these three undetected and hope they lead us to Storm. Then we must find Storm, bring him back to Earth, and destroy any nanotechnology he has built up,” the Captain surmised.
“That pretty much sums it up,” Dawson agreed.
“Well, at least that explains the platoon of marines we have aboard,” the Captain said. “Agent Dawson, thank you for the briefing. I’m sure it will improve morale to know that we are on such an important mission.”
“You’re welcome.” Dawson responded. He hadn’t really considered that now the mission would be a morale booster for the crew. “And please, the subject of rogue nanotechnology is to remain classified. That was for you and the Lt. Commander only,” he cautioned.
“I understand, Agent Dawson,” Captain Whetherstone replied, her face reflecting his own concern. The mission she had just been handed was high profile and potentially dangerous with the nanotech threat. Dawson was sure he hadn’t made her job any easier with his explanations.
“What about the other three?” Bowman asked.
“If we witness them conspiring with Storm, then we bring them in too. Otherwise, they’re all clean enough to escape any prosecution. What about these Marines? I was told they were going to be here. Who’s in command of them?”
“I am. Of course since you’re in charge of the mission, you just tell me what you want done, and if that means using the marines, we’ll use them,” the Captain explained. “Lieutenant Madison is the platoon leader. You should probably meet them; they’re on deck six in the troop barracks.”
“Will you also brief me on their capabilities so I know what I have to work with?” Dawson asked.
“Of course,” the Captain responded. “Lt. Commander Bowman will make sure you have the briefings. I’m going back to the bridge,” the Captain said, getting up.
Dawson rose as well along with Bowman. He noticed the gravity again. It hadn’t been quite as noticeable when he was sitting. The Captain left the room, and Dawson saw her ascending the tube as the doors shut, leaving him alone with the Lt. Commander.
Dawson wasn’t sure what either the Captain or the Lt. Commander thought of the mission or of him. They had seemed to accept the mission and the reasons for it, but neither had been very animated. Dawson supposed that they were professional soldiers and that they were used to taking commands. He knew about the conditioning of a soldier from his own days, but it had never sat right for him; and he had always been one to think for himself. He was wishing that he had a few more agents with him, at least he was used to them. The FBI was strict and had a very defined power structure, but it wasn’t the military. He had some leeway in his assignments, a flexibility that he guessed the fleet people didn’t have.
“What do you think about the mission?” Dawson asked the Lt. Commander.
“It seems to be of high importance, Agent Dawson. I am less put off by our sudden change in orders. We don’t generally receive orders that came directly from Damon Harding as he is not a part of the fleet or the government, but we are not ignorant of his position. I’m just glad that this mission isn’t just a personal errand for Harding. It is a legitimate mission for the Fleet to be involved in,” Bowman said thoughtfully, putting his hands on the table. “Have no doubt that we will do everything in our power to bring Storm in and to destroy his nanotech. On this point I am sure the Captain agrees with me. Just thinking about having that sort of capability loose in the solar system scares me, Agent Dawson.”
“Me too. That’s why I’ve come into space, although I don’t care for space travel. I have to find Storm and stop him before something worse than a computer virus shows up.”
“Then we’re agreed.”
“Yes.”
“Good, I’ll grant you access to the ship’s specifications. That should give you a good grasp of our capabilities. And I’ll introduce you to Lieutenant Madison,” Bowman added in a friendly manner. Dawson was glad that Bowman had lightened up a little now that he knew where Dawson was coming from. “Let’s go,” he said, leading back out of the briefing room.
Lt. Commander Bowman pointed out the mess and recreation room as they descended. “We have several stim terminals and most of the modern exercise equipment. It’s all stowable if necessary. You’re free to use any of them. There’s also a shower and a small sauna off on the other end. It only fits three, but it’s a real luxury on this ship.”
“Don’t you worry about stim addiction? I’d think that’d be a problem here, if anywhere, being in such a constricted space?” Dawson asked, looking at the stim terminals with a feeling of both longing and revulsion. He’d beat the demon of his addiction, but it still called to him.
“No, since there are only two terminals, no crew member can spend that much time in stim, and the programming is some what limited compared to the entertainment terminals on Earth. It does, however, contain a great number of military training stims which is what we use it for primarily. It keeps us fresh. We haven’t had any stim addiction problems yet, and I hope we don’t. The people who crew this ship, and in the fleet in general, have been screened to be tough and resilient to those types of addictions. Plus the ship is a small place. No one could hide that kind of habit without some one knowing,” Bowman replied.
They stopped on deck eight. “Eight is medical and systems. Dr. Jamahan is our doctor as I mentioned earlier. He’s a good guy.” The door to medical opened, and they both stepped in. It looked like a miniature version of a hospital. The fog suspension beds, which Dawson suspected were actually medical fog beds. Medical technology had advanced significantly in the areas of external and internal wound treatment, organ regeneration, and internal medicine. The fog suspension medical bed could auto diagnose and treat almost any condition. That they even had a doctor on board was a surprise to Dawson. He didn’t see anyone in medical.
“So where is the Doctor?”Dawson inquired.
“Either in his quarters or talking with someone, I assume. He isn’t on duty twenty-four seven. He only works in here when there is an emergency or he wants some space. He is also a systems expert and works with the systems folks across the hall, but we have him for when the auto treatment beds can’t handle a particular problem. One of our SS systems is a advanced medical system who could function in the doctor’s stead, but we always prefer to have a human fail safe involved after some of the past mistakes that were made by the SS systems,” Bowman explained.
Dawson nodded, remembering the gruesome nature of those highly publicized mistakes. SS systems were very good, but they weren’t infallible. They were programmed by humans, and humans made mistakes. Even though the SS systems seemed to exhibit genuine intelligence and could pass simple intelligence tests like the Turing test, they hadn’t been able to exhibit true sentient behavior measured by the Berea test which any able human could pass. Artificial intelligence had been worked on for years but the only way known to get a machine to act and be a true human level intelligence was to copy a human brain into nanotronics which was really no better than making an artificial human. And the feeling then was, of course the thing is sentient but it’s a human that thinks a million times faster and cant interact with real people without going insane from all the delays. It had been tried once and then banned by international treaty. SS systems did a fairly good job, though. They were almost like idiot savants, very good at one thing or one profession but hopeless in a situation outside the bounds of their programming. Still, they hardly ever messed up inside the bounds of their programming, and they could work a million times faster than a human-which made them invaluable.
Dawson looked around the medical bay and noticed that in one of the far corners was what looked lik
e a backup unit. “Is that a backup unit?” he asked. If it were, he would be doubly amazed. They were expensive machines, and they were all licensed to Second Chance, Inc.
“Yes, it is, and actually you should get used to making a daily backup. Our backup system is about six times faster than the ones you’ve used. They’re even more expensive than the private versions, but every one on the ship has to make a fresh backup each day. That way in the event of an emergency we can launch an emergency buoy that contains the ship’s logs and a backup of each of the crew in holographic cube form, provided we have at least three seconds of warning. One of our SS systems handles only that duty so that we don’t have to worry about anything. It’s actually resident on the buoy and the buoy is really a miniature rocket with a small amount of antimatter so that it can make a very fast escape. It can accelerate at hundreds of g’s because there’s nothing living inside to squish. So if you wake up and all you remember is your daily backup, you’ll know that something happened to the ship,” Bowman explained.
“Is this standard on all Fleet ships?” Dawson asked, amazed. It was an intricate system, but it probably helped the crew to make life or death choices knowing that a version of them would be saved. They probably also had a version backed up every time they docked at a Fleet base or station. Being asked to give up one’s life to further a military goal was a lot easier when you knew that you would be restored and would continue on with only a slight discontinuity. Warfare had changed significantly since that happened, at least for the Fleet and the UN ground forces who were allowed to use restoration. Any other person engaged in a conflict could be found guilty of breaking international law and sentenced to permanent dissolution. That was quite a deterrent to any conflict, knowing you would probably die and never be restored.
“Most, except our very smallest scout ships that are just too small for them, but they get backups at bases. They’d just be a little more out of date than most if something happened to them. Why don’t we get your first scan out of the way now,” Bowman suggested, putting his arm on Dawson’s shoulder and gently herding him towards the backup system.
“Maybe later,” Dawson said, resisting a little.
“Come on, the mission is important enough. We need to have your backup. We’d have made it right when you boarded the ship except that we needed to move out fast,” Bowman explained.
“All right,” Dawson acquiesced, stepping towards the backup machine. The machine resembled a styling salon chair; in that it was a chair with a apparatus which lowered over your head. But the chair was made of a heavy metal and the cylinder that would cap the occupants head looked far more bulky-as it housed the sensitive imaging equipment necessary for the procedure. Dawson sat down in the chair.
“Do you wish to make a backup, Agent Dawson?” a voice asked, probably the medical SS system.
“Yes,” Dawson said.
“Do you wish your companion system files to be stored as well?” the SS confirmed.
“Yes,” Dawson replied.
“Confirmed. Backup will be generated of Jim Dawson 260.4.2 along with companion files. Please sit back in the chair.” The SS both informed and commanded. As Dawson sat back he felt the restraint system come on. He was totally unable to move even a millimeter; the fog restraint system that was holding him perfectly still. This was new to Dawson.
“Don’t worry about the restraint fog. That’s one reason this model is faster,” Bowman said, watching him. “It keeps your head perfectly still which allows the scanner to get its work done faster because it has to correct fewer errors introduced by the small motions of your head during the process.
“Thirty seconds to complete scan,” the SS system informed him. The process was fairly silent except for a humming that came from the cylinder that was lowering itself over his head down to his chin. The system would take a very high resolution scan of his brain. It was basically an MRI scan but much more detailed, as it had to image everything down to individual atoms. Dawson started to feel claustrophobic as soon as the cylinder was over his head and it was dark.
“Please relax and try to remain still,” the SS system said. “Twenty five seconds. Beginning scan.” The humming increased and seemed to go on forever, Dawson was very uncomfortable now. He preferred when it took three or four minutes but you weren’t constrained. He told himself this was a military vessel, however, and the military didn’t do things for people’s individual comfort. “Ten seconds.”
The humming had increased in intensity as the scan mapped his brain down to the last atom. “Five seconds.” Dawson was ready for it to be over.
“Scan complete,” the SS system announced. The scanner returned to its position above his head, and the restraint fog released him. Dawson was very relieved. “I am beginning data compression. Please place your finger on the tissue collection pad.” Dawson did. He felt a small prick as a small drop of blood was taken. That drop contained millions of copies of his DNA which the machine would compare and using all of them would produce as close to a perfect version of his DNA as possible. Then the version would be digitized and stored along with his scan. The brain scan information would also be compressed by a factor of a million or more so it would fit in the cube. Most of the information was not necessary to maintain as it was redundant.
“Your presence is no longer required, Agent Dawson. I will compress and store your information. Please return tomorrow for another scan,” the medial SS system informed him. Dawson got up from the chair quickly, looking back at it.
“It’s like some kind of medieval torture, isn’t it?” Bowman exaggerated with a smile.
“Yeah, like an iron maiden or something.” Dawson agreed with a grin which he only put on to make it seem alright, but he really hadn’t enjoyed that even though he was used to frequent scans. He had to get a scan every week for the agency.
“Please make sure you have your scan daily,” Bowman reinforced seriously. “You are a civilian and a VIP onboard which means we must ensure that your backup survives. Don’t worry. You get used to it.” He gave a little smile at the end.
“Sure,” Dawson said noncommittally. Sure it would get better…eventually.
“Well, now that that is out of the way, let’s go to the barracks,” Bowman said, turning to leave. Dawson took one last look at the machine. He could beat it; it wouldn’t get him like that again now that he knew what to expect..
The Barracks were on deck six. There were two entrances, one on either side of the ring. They were marked Barracks A and B. Lt. Commander Bowman stood outside the door and touched a screen that was just to its side. “Lt. Madison, I have Agent Dawson here. Permission to enter,” he requested.
After a few moments a voice came back, “Granted,” and the door slid open. Bowman led the way and Dawson followed him in. It was one large room which curved away and out of sight, presumably halfway around the ship. On the outer wall were bunks that were neatly folded up on the wall. From just to their left a woman approached them. She was wearing camouflage fatigues, which Dawson guessed were more traditional than functional, especially considering the kind of camouflage technology he knew the military possessed as demonstrated by Jeff Hughes and company. She was only about five foot three, but she looked tough enough to break him in half. She had a hard look to her that said, I mean business.
“Agent Dawson, it’s good to meet you,” she said all business-like. She didn’t extend her hand but instead stopped and stood at attention with her arms behind her back.
“Likewise. Lieutenant Madison, I presume,” Dawson replied.
She nodded, acknowledging the title. “I apologize for not coming to meet you the instant you boarded, but my platoon was engaged in a full tactical simulation in the event we needed to take the targets in orbit,” she said without batting an eye.
“So you are aware of the mission?” Dawson asked. He wondered how much she could know.
&n
bsp; “Yes, we were fully briefed by Mr. Harding himself as to the nature of the mission,” she replied.
Dawson wondered what exactly Harding had told them.
“We were also instructed that you had full tactical authority over this platoon, even exceeding that of Captain Whetherstone for the duration of this mission,” she informed him.
“Now wait just a second,” Bowman chimed in. “That was not part of the orders we received when you were assigned to the Powel. The Captain is supposed to have full tactical authority, and Agent Dawson here has mission command except in military strategy.”
“That may be true, Sir. However, in the event that Agent Dawson and the Captain disagree, we are to follow Agent Dawson’s orders,” she said, staring Bowman down. To his credit, Bowman didn’t give an inch.
“I’ll be contacting command about this,” he said.
“That would be the prudent thing to do, Sir,” Madison responded.
It was an interesting development, Harding didn’t trust anyone.
“I’ll be checking that right now. Agent Dawson, you have free range of the ship. Please look over the ship’s specs and familiarize yourself with our systems and procedures,” Bowman said, leaving.
Dawson didn’t get the feeling that this was a common occurrence, but he did feel comforted to know that when push came to shove he had some might in his corner.
“Agent Dawson, please let me introduce you to my platoon,” she said and led him around the bend just slightly. There were eight stim stations at the end of the room, seven of which were occupied. “Fall in marines,” she commanded, and immediately each of the members of the platoon deinterfaced with the terminal and stood at attention. It immediately took Dawson by surprise that the platoon was half women and half men.
“This is Agent Dawson, our Tactical authority on this mission. We are to follow the Captain’s orders unless they conflict with his and then we follow him. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” they all chorused.
“Good. Agent Dawson, this is my platoon. This is Corporal Benson, my tech expert. He maintains all our equipment,” she said, introducing him to the man on the far right. Benson gave a curt nod in acknowledgment which Dawson returned. “This is Corporal Hawkings, our communications specialist. Then is Corporal Timison, our long range tactical specialist. Corporal Day, our sensor specialist. Corporal Newman, our demolitions specialist. Corporal Halewell, our systems specialist. And this is Corporal Green; our medical specialist.” They all gave him that curt nod as they were introduced, which he returned. “We are platoon 221, and we are the best.”
There was a resounding, “Hoo Yah,” from the rest of the platoon. Dawson noticed in his displays that they were all about the same overall age, around a hundred and twenty despite the fact that they all looked to be about twenty-five. Best of all, they were all US citizens, which meant they were loyal.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Marines. I have been told by Lieutenant Madison that you have already been fully briefed on the nature of our mission and the consequences of failure. I’ll try not to get you all killed without good reason.”
“Don’t worry about that. We fight to win even if it means dying,” Madison replied smartly.
“Hoo Yah,” they all echoed.
Of course, they would be willing to die for the mission if necessary, Dawson thought. They could all be restored, and that would make them all the more vicious and effective. They could lay their lives on the line without fear. Dawson remembered thinking about that when he had been in the military, but he still hadn’t wanted to die unnecessarily. Restoration wasn’t as perfected as it was today…but these Marines were on the side with the technology and no doubt they used it often, to keep themselves in prime condition if not for mission related expiration.
“Agent Dawson, since we have some privacy at the moment, I need you to know that if it should become necessary for us to take the Powel, in the event that her non-American crew members hinders the mission, we are prepared to do so. If you feel that is our only choice, you need only slip the code words “railroad tie” into your communications with us. However, I hope this will not become necessary. We also have all the access codes to take the ship’s computer systems and restrict their access should that also become necessary,” Madison added. She was clearly uneasy about the subject of taking a Fleet ship from its Captain and crew, but Dawson could tell that she would if she had to. The mission was too important for compromise.
“I understand, and I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that either,” Dawson said. Apparently Damon Harding had briefed them well on the possible scenarios that their mission introduced. He didn’t like it, but he admitted that contingency plans had to be made just in case they had no other choice. That was what it always came down to, no other choice. It was why he used the bug in Storm’s head. It was the only way, but he did hope it wouldn’t go that far. Keeping the crew in the dark as to the real reasons for their mission would hopefully make the entire exercise a moot point.
“Marines, return to simulation. Agent Dawson, if you need us we’ll be here, but we have a simulation to complete, so if you’ll please excuse us we’d like to get our training in while we still have time,” Madison stated, clearly dismissing him.
“Of course. It was good to meet you all,” Dawson said, turning to leave.
He had things to do too. He needed to contact Damon Harding and make a report before they got too far away from Earth and the communications lag was too great. Then he had some studying to do so that when they reached Mars he would have a better understanding of the ship’s capabilities and emergency procedures. The trip would be short and he needed to be prepared for anything when Gates, Storm and Hughes arrived at Mars. No doubt things were going to get much more complicated when they did.