The Tabit Genesis (4 page)

The blood drained from the man’s face.

‘
What?
’

Sig nodded towards the guards. Two of them forced Atticus’s traitor arms behind his back.

‘I was trying to help my family!’

‘You’ve had the means to help them for some time,’ Vladric growled. ‘Since you can’t, I will.’

‘Then I’ll raid the convoy!’ Atticus protested. I’ll do what you—’

‘A Ceti captain follows orders without question,’ Vladric said. ‘He finds a way to honour his duty to family and our brotherhood.’

‘Please, I beg your forgiveness—’

Vladric’s face turned from indifference to anger.

‘Governor Lareck!’ he snarled. ‘Get this traitor out of my sight before I kill him myself. Seize his funds and property. The ship is ours, the rest belongs to his children.’

Sig glared at Atticus, who was now sobbing.

‘Guards,’ Sig said quietly.

It was best never to look back. Bystanders, even the few who might have been searching for the courage to intervene, all returned to their business as the guards dragged Atticus back towards the tram platform.

Sig knew that word of his sentence would spread quickly.

‘“Ready for anything”, eh?’ Vladric sneered, marching towards the lab. ‘Not with cowards like that in our ranks. Root them out
now
, Sig
.
It’ll make all the difference in this fight.’

Dr Ilya Tallendin, the chief researcher in Ceti’s weapons division, emerged from the main entrance to the complex.

‘Welcome, Commander,’ he said, giving the salute. ‘You’re just in time.’

‘That implies good news,’ Vladric said.

‘Oh, it is,’ Ilya replied, leading them inside. ‘Right this way, please.’

The weapons lab hall was an enormous cavern burrowed deep beneath the magma chamber itself. Dr Tallendin led them to an observation deck that ringed the highest elevations within; the bottom was nearly two hundred metres down and sectioned into staging areas crowded with heavy machinery. The scientists working inside wore survival suits, as the environment mimicked a pristine vacuum, with temperatures well below freezing.

On one side of the cavern floor, Sig recognised the menacing contours of a frigate’s railgun; its turret was securely bolted into the rock. Opposite, just fifty metres away, was a segment of ship armour.

Dr Tallendin cleared his throat.

‘For this test, we’re using an authentic Navy MK50 railgun, and firing it from point-blank range into the same plating used on most Ceti corvettes. The MK50 fires a slug at speeds in excess of eight kilometres per second, presenting a kinetic energy challenge, or more specifically the amount of force transferred at the point of impact, which is the output of mass times velocity—’

‘Move along,’ Sig interrupted.

‘Right. Quantum particles attain their mass through interactions with the Higgs field, “absorbing” mass via the Higgs boson. We sought to block that interaction, by either preventing the absorption itself, or by cancelling the field oscillations. As it turns out, there was a third way to—’

‘Ilya …’ Sig warned.

‘We can reduce the mass of any projectiles that travel through our shield barrier by at least ninety-five per cent,’ the doctor said.

Sig felt his jaw drop.

‘Ninety-five?’ he repeated.

‘That’s correct,’ the doctor said, looking towards the cavern floor. The scientists working within had exited, and yellow warning lights were ablaze in the test area. ‘We may be able to increase that somewhat, but not much further—’

‘Show me,’ Vladric demanded.

‘As you wish,’ the doctor said.

After a few moments, Sig thought the lab had exploded. A fireball erupted from the railgun which engulfed the target, and from that range the armour plate should have been obliterated. Instead, a sizable dent crowned the crosshairs painted onto it, and the slug itself had broken into countless white-hot fragments.

‘How…?’ Sig asked, incredulous. Vladric remained motionless throughout, his face impassive.

‘The round which struck the target had only five per cent of the mass it had when it left that railgun,’ Dr Tallendin explained. ‘Standard tungsten-based alloys with carbon nanotube layering can withstand the reduced kinetic energy transferred at impact.’

‘How long can you hold that shield up?’ Vladric asked.

‘The energy cost is low, but it takes some time for resonance generation to recover from impact,’ the doctor answered. ‘Unfortunately, the degradation penalty is high, to the order of thirty per cent per second or so.’

‘So three seconds to fully recover from a direct hit?’ Sig clarified.

‘From an inert round, yes. And explosive warheads will still detonate on contact with the shield barrier. But with the MK50’s low rate of fire, the odds of successive rounds striking the same location during combat are very low, assuming the Navy doesn’t know how this defensive system works.’

‘They don’t know,’ Vladric interjected. ‘How soon can you equip the fleet with this?’

Dr Tallendin looked at him as though he were kidding, which Sig could tell he regretted almost immediately.

‘The
fleet
?’ he croaked. ‘I can deliver a corvette or two with the equipment we have here, but setting up a manufacturing line for the generators would take—’

‘I’ll give you
total
control of Ceti’s resources to make this happen as soon as possible,’ Vladric said.

Dr Tallendin was sceptical.

‘I am honoured, but …’

‘Ceti’s shipyards, Lethe’s mines, the Belt’s labs, every ship in our fleet, every manufacturing plant we have, and my personal word to procure anything else you need,’ Vladric insisted. ‘All you’d have to do is ask.’

Sig knew nothing of the technology, other than the fact it had been stolen. But the corporations that built up Lethe had done so with a mega-industrial output in mind, and Ceti had managed to attract smart people who knew how to use its infrastructure to maximum effect.

‘I’ll find a way,’ Dr Tallendin finally said.

‘Now that’s an attitude I can admire,’ Vladric said. ‘Succeed, and you’ll keep some of the power I’m giving you now to make this work.’

Dr Tallendin knew better than to ask the price of failure.

There was white water on the Danube this morning, and Viola had to push herself to keep pace with its swift current. She raced off the pathway marked for joggers and into the brush parallel to the river, vaulting over and under obstacles that had once left her bloody. As much as she loved the challenge, it was the sound of the running, churning water that invigorated her most. There were few places like this, and soon it would be truly unique in Orionis. The station engineers had warned residents about the speedier currents as a consequence of a larger eco-engineering effort to introduce fish stocks, a first since the colonisation of Orionis.

The ‘Danube River’, named after its ancient ancestor, ran through the entire nineteen-kilometre circumference of the torus-shaped station Luminosity
.
It wound through forests, orchards, and grasslands grown from original seeds and reconstructed genotypes that had arrived with the
Tabit Genesis
in 2638. Viola felt a surge of invigoration as she leapt over a rock outcrop, propelling herself even faster through the course. The air was thick with scents of natural vegetation growth and decay, so unlike the scrubbed, sterile gas of most ships and stations.

Curving far ahead and above her, she could see a radiant beam of reflected sunlight illuminating the darkness beyond. Were there such a thing as paradise, it would look like this. Bounding through a small stream, Viola relished the splashing of water beneath her soles, knowing it would be some time before she felt it again. Such was the price of curiosity. For today she would begin a comprehensive study of the Arkady species on Zeus, under the sponsorship and supervision of Merckon Industries.

This could well be the greatest day of her professional career. It had started well – her morning run had been exhilarating. But on approaching her flat, Viola saw her father waiting at the front door.

The sight of him made her bliss evaporate.

‘What was your time?’ he called out.

She glanced at her watch.

‘Twenty-nine minutes.’

The course was ten kilometres long. A personal best.

Her father, Dr Klaus Silveri, was unimpressed.

‘
And
twenty-eight seconds,’ he added. ‘A pathetic effort by any measure.’

It was just past 0600. Viola knew why he was there, and decided she would pretend he wasn’t.

‘I’m going to be late,’ she muttered, walking past him. Dressed in colonial highborn attire, her father’s back was straight as iron, and ancient lines etched a permanent scowl upon his face.

‘Are you surprised I’m here?’ he asked, following her inside.

‘I’d be pleasantly surprised if you left without another word,’ she answered, shedding her shirt.

‘Manners, child,’ her father scolded. ‘I wanted to tell you—’

‘Excuse me?’ she interrupted, motioning for privacy. Glaring at her, he slowly turned as she began removing the rest of her soaked garments, letting them drop onto the floor. Completely bare, she took a protein drink from the kitchen and made her way to the shower.

Klaus followed and stood right outside the bathroom door.

‘I wanted to offer my congratulations,’ he said. ‘This is an honour for the Silveri name. You make me so proud.’

Viola was practised at ignoring his bitter sarcasm. Gulping the sustenance down, she relaxed for a moment under the gush of water, willing her body temperature to cool.

‘That’s kind of you,’ she said, throwing open the shower doors. Viola locked onto his cold, grey eyes to make sure they didn’t wander. ‘Out of my way.’

Drying off quickly, she picked a maroon-coloured business skirt, opting against anything too revealing. The collar was high and oversized, but the rest was snug enough to flaunt her athleticism. Disregarding the impatient tapping of Klaus, she inspected the cut on her knee, which she had opened up a day earlier on the same running course. What had been a deep, serrated gash was now almost completely healed. The people of Orionis had regenerative powers far more robust than their ancestors, but her firstborn genetic modifications gave her even more of an advantage.

‘Since I know you won’t listen to reason,’ her father said, inspecting her final appearance, ‘I’ve come to warn you instead.’

Viola’s grandparents, Drs Thieron and Alexia Silveri, had been bioengineers aboard the
Tabit Genesis,
tasked with maintaining the ‘slush tanks’ that stations and long-range ships could not function without. The tanks were an essential component of a microbe-driven distilling system that dissolved organic compounds into reusable components. For every form of human waste – septic, manufactured, even toxins – a microorganism could be engineered to transform it into fuel for another process that was useful to man. The journey from Sol to Orionis took three decades, and the thousands of slush pits the Silveris had maintained did as much to keep the
Tabit
’s passengers alive as the hulls separating them from the vacuum of space.

‘
Another
warning?’ Viola dismissed, adding some eyeliner. ‘Sounds serious.’

‘I never discouraged your interest in exobiology because, quite frankly, I underestimated your passion for it,’ Klaus said, raising his chin. ‘Had I known you would take it this far, I would have derailed your ambition much sooner.’

Viola never planned on telling him about her commitment to Merckon Industries. As a man with deep corporate connections, he would inevitably find out. But the longer the secret was kept, the less he could do about it. Or so she hoped.

Abandoning her make-up, she started for the door.

Klaus intercepted her. Her physique was much more imposing than that of the 164-year-old man in her path. Yet she stood paralysed in the space between them.

‘I say that because I’m more interested in your preservation than your career,’ he said, looking up at her. ‘I don’t mean to understate your accomplishments, but let’s be honest: genetically speaking, you are
perfect
. All the challenges most people struggle with you conquer with ease. Your success was never in doubt. Not until now. I do fear you’re on the wrong path.’

Viola stepped around him.

‘I’ll try not to let you down,’ she said, walking outdoors. The commuter platform was just half a kilometre away, but Klaus stayed right on her heels.

Viola’s late grandparents were pioneering biologists who had ensured mankind’s survival by passing their expertise on to the first generation of humans to be born beyond Earth.

Hydroponically-grown food was the only sustenance for the original Tabit settlers, and their lifespans averaged 120 years of age. Population limits were tied to agricultural yield and the scarce availability of living space. In anticipation of this, the male voyagers of the
Tabit Genesis
had their seed frozen and were all sterilised before their journey from Earth began. But a gene bank containing a diverse genetic sampling of the human population was also brought with them.

When the Tabit settlers finished building the second torus ring about the spine of the
Tabit Genesis
, the first sweeping act to expand the human population was passed: ‘One Child.’ Females were encouraged to birth a single offspring via a government-supervised in vitro fertilisation pregnancy, using either pre-approved genetics from the bank, or any partner from the Tabit.

The original Firstborns thus came into the world, and among them was Klaus Silveri. One decade later, fate would steer his path to an original Tabit settler – or “highborn,” as they were known today – by the name of Mace Merckon, founder of the corporation that bore his name.

Viola lengthened her stride, glancing about to see who was witnessing the spectacle of her father giving chase.

‘Why are you giving your talents to commercial interests?’ he demanded loudly. ‘For generations, we have pursued science essential for the survival of mankind. Where do the Arkady fit into that?’

Other commuters were making their way to the platform. She focused on the gardens alongside the pathway, glittering beneath a veil of mist, distracted momentarily by their beauty.

But Klaus was relentless.

‘They’re
pests
, Viola,’ he spat. ‘The entomological equivalent of roaches. What possible good can come from this?’

‘I’d have to study them first to answer that,’ she said.

He grabbed her hand, and she stopped.

‘And what if there
is
no good?’ he challenged. ‘Have you considered that? Are you that selfish?’

Viola felt her cheeks redden.

‘
Please
not here—’

‘Our generations have never walked the surface of a world without a mask,’ he scolded, ‘and you’re fixated on gas giants? Viola! What are you doing to help bring us
home
?’

Of all things,
dirt
was the product that launched Merckon’s fortunes. In Orionis, topsoil was among the most precious substances known to man, without which it would be almost impossible to grow the seeds brought from Earth. The fate of Eileithyia left the Orionis colony with none, and the sustainability of the population was endangered. Klaus Silveri made his own topsoil from crushed asteroid regolith, supplemented with organic waste from the
Tabit
and seeded with microorganisms grown in its slush tanks.

From the lush ecosystems built into stations like
Luminosity
to the orbital farms that produced food for millions, Merckon soil or slush pits were nearby, and both were the brainchild of the Silveri family.

Viola wanted to respond, but Klaus continued his rant.

‘Travis Mareck only wants to know if zenomorphs can make him money,’ he continued, referring to the Merckon CEO. ‘He couldn’t give a damn about the science. Did you consider that?’

Viola drew in a deep breath.

‘Merckon is one of the few powers that can fund a study like this,’ she said calmly. ‘They own several rigs and have the means to protect—’

‘Nobody owns anything past the Belt!’ Klaus scoffed. ‘Not with Ceti scum prowling about. More to the point, this isn’t science. It’s greed.’

‘There was a time when you would have called it “capitalism”,’ she growled, resuming her walk.

Viola had begun working for Merckon when she was just twelve, the usual path for someone with firstborn lineage. Specialising in microbiology, she effected numerous improvements to the same agricultural and waste reprocessing technologies that made Merckon its billions. Her obsession with the Arkady began with a passing fancy; a random conversation she overheard about the miners of Zeus, and the strange tales many believed were the fables of delusional, sick men. Upon discovering that the alien life forms were real, she devoted every moment of her spare time to learning more about them.

But she knew how the funding game was played, and her father was right to challenge her on the ethics of her decision. Her proposal was light on language describing her personal fascination with the creatures, and heavy with verbiage on how they represented a potential goldmine of undiscovered advancements in everything from bioengineering to materials science.

‘An academic grant is one thing,’ Klaus insisted. ‘That at least keeps the findings transparent. This is entirely different. What you discover, should there be anything, belongs to Travis Mareck. You know he won’t use them for anything beyond his own benefit, let alone the greater good. Viola, what’s happened to you? I didn’t raise you to think like this!’

Viola hoped her father would desist before they reached the platform entrance. But she had no such luck, and Klaus stayed with her as she walked inside.

‘I suppose it’s asking too much to just trust me,’ she said, marching into the elevator. Klaus made a scene of not allowing another hurrying resident in as the doors shut. They were alone, and he stood much closer to her than necessary.

‘Viola,’ he said. ‘I admit there were times when I pushed you too far. I did it to prepare you for many things, but not for this. Please listen: you do not understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.’

She chose to look past him, watching the landscape fall away as the elevator ascended higher and higher. A moment of disorientation passed as they reached the station’s central hub, where she could feel the gravity reduce.

‘Travis Mareck is ruthless,’ Klaus warned. ‘He’ll never let you leave Merckon. You know he’ll send you to Zeus, and you cannot control when – if ever – you return.’

The lift stopped, and the doors opened at the shuttle bay level. Her personal craft, a sleek new Legatta RX model, was latched in dry dock directly across the platform.

‘This is my choice,’ she said.

Viola left without looking back. And this time, Klaus didn’t follow her.

‘Then remember everything I taught you,’ he called out. ‘Protect yourself always.’

According to the latest census, there were 1.8 spacecraft for every registered human being in the Orionis Colony. That meant there were approximately 36
million
of them darting about the Inner Rim, and at present it seemed like they were all converging on Merckon Prime. Civilian ships – everything from high performance shuttles like Viola’s Legatta to mining skiffs resembling insects – were cramming the flight pattern for the main station hangar. From kilometres away, freighters with their distinctive modular shipping containers lumbered towards ports connected by cable to the main station. A pair of Navy frigates, resplendent in their white reflective plate, sat idly outside the station as military police corvettes with flashing blue lights patrolled the lanes to keep everyone on course.

As much as the Legatta flew itself, Viola alternated between cursing at the congestion – this was
space
, after all – and losing herself in thoughts about the Arkady. The species took its name after the Helium-3 prospector Arkady Vostov, the highborn who had first encountered them more than a century ago, when the first mining expedition sent by the
Tabit
dropped its cables into the Zeus atmosphere. The urgency of building a reliable energy pipeline for the Inner Rim colonies had left little room for scientific expeditions, and so the alien species had remained an enigma all this time.