Log 1 Matter | Antimatter Page 3

  “On my own?” How much did people know about his rape? The male showing him his quarters was definitely, by design, non-threatening.

  “No sharing on the Repco. Each is an escape pod so keep your things locked down if you aren’t using them. You have the D.E.P., which stands for Deluxe Escape Pod, or just call it DEP. We call it the Ritz.” Crewman Levan took him through the quirks of the pods. “You can leave the hatch open on blue, but any other color you have to seal yourself in, or out, depending on whether you have duties and how claustrophobic you are.”

  Jamie nodded. He didn’t have a problem with small spaces and the pod was a decent size, easy to live in.

  “You think, sir?”

  Jamie frowned. Thoughts accessed without permission was rude. He realized he had felt the captain’s gentle mind-brush but had not registered Levan’s mental extraction. Another overreaction.

  Levan blushed. “Sorry, Lieutenant. You haven’t read the personals yet. We can reply or respond to public thoughts since we’re all mostly Avatara. For verbal communique first names are okay to use but only while we are in the blue, equal rank or below, and only after you’ve used rank designation once at the start of address.”

  “I didn’t know. And not to worry, Levan.” Jamie gave him a friendly smile. He saw his leather bag on the bed, walked over and unrolled it.

  “Security needed to go through your kit. All in place?”

  “Nothing’s missing.” He fingered the tools, they needed sharpening.

  “You do a lot of wood carving?”

  “And I build furniture. My uncle taught me.”

  “My uncle taught me how to net fish. Not really useful in space unless I can go fish in the Klados.”

  Jamie chuckled and found he could now easily access data again. The Klados was the first dimension and filled with a lot of matter. Drawing out matter was illegal—because once removed it couldn’t be replaced easily—and required a special license. Aryan Space carefully monitored matter levels in normal space. He breathed out in relief.

  “Spend the rest of this shift, which is third shift, settling in. Read all the pod protocols. Your schedule’s been shunted to your system.” Levan touched a monitor that lit up and Jamie saw what looked like a roster. “Eat and sleep fourth shift, report for duty on first shift. Just go to Karr’s office.”

  Jamie nodded.

  “If that’s all, sir, I’ll leave you. Press this pad if you need help.”

  “Thank you, Levan.” Jamie opened and closed the drawers and cupboards. The bed was longish, thankfully, but it didn’t look like it would fit his six foot four height. He lay on it but his feet dangled over. There was even a small bathroom, standing room for two with a pull out toilet. The pod was egg-shaped; the bed had one curved edge, the desk the other. With a quick assessment he decided on the type of fighting styles that would suit a small area. He stood at the opposite end to the hatch after he sealed it. It unsettled him how quiet it was as he enjoyed a bit of white noise.

  He spoke to the panel, feeling silly. “Jamie Livio Raner.”

  “Imprint on GELpad.”

  He positioned his hand on the blue GELpad to his right and a holo system booted up. A control panel formed and he touched it. He was impressed with the triganic material. But the control stick was separate in case the Lygon or nanite systems died.

  “Would you like to eject?”

  “Ah, no?”

  “Is that a question?”

  “No, I mean I do not wish to eject.”

  “Affirmative, ejection sequence terminated.”

  Jamie wiped the sweat off his brow and read the rest of the information. “Hmmm, not even the captain is in one of these.” He opened his mission file, and used his SNA to confirm his identity. SNA existed in DNA, embedded as a signifier for the Aryan Government but the science bored Jamie. There were four DEPs usually assigned to visiting officials.

  “Sentinel 12847, your mission is to protect the Tri-Matter Documents… While in training, the Repco will be stopping in Anchorage Station delivering new security net modules. You need to be on the ground crew...”

  Jamie checked but there was no other information. They’d been shown samples of mission briefs. This seemed vague. The screen flashed as all the data dissipated; it tracked back until it was untraceable and inaccessible. The program would also move some other data blocks around to cover the gaps. But Jamie’s understanding on programming was rudimentary. He checked the Repco routes. Sure enough, in four days—no, sixteen shifts—they would arrive and he was designated to the ground crew. It was too early to ask for time off. But under training? He was off duty; maybe he could volunteer to find out how the ranger to ground teams operated. He was told to look at the easiest solutions first, and the ones that seemed most likely to suit what he might be expected to say or do in any given role. He had sixteen shifts to volunteer. So, he checked the roster and volunteered for the odd job here and there to keep it random, but not so random that it couldn’t possibly be random. He sent the request and smirked as he remembered the hour-long lecture about how to make things random.

  Next, and maybe he should have done this first, he checked under his bed. A container with documents? How big could it be? He lifted the mattress and then the solid base. He paused and then laughed as he saw it. With another smirk at his lack of addressing the obvious first, he saw his first hurdle—large hurdle. “Problematic.”

  That he’d been assigned this pod indicated that the crew knew he was supposedly special. So should he use that? He checked the operation to the planet first. Deliveries. Cargo. He had been told the missions would not be what the junior director of special ops described as ludicrous. The more risk the operative had to take the less likelihood of success, and higher risk of being caught. His mission had been ranked 2 out of 50 so maybe he should feel insulted. No, they had matched it carefully to ensure he would have an easy time. Plus, factoring in the crew and his fears, Jamie knew they’d chosen right for him. However, they couldn’t account for the unaccountable and that’s why they had all the training they did. Jamie hoped none of those unaccountable things would ruin his first mission so made two backup plans anyway. His comms beeped and when he checked, Major Karr had already approved the volunteer hours so by the time he went for something to eat, he was told to stop by logistics to pick up special ident tabs that would allow him access to cargo holds and medic labs. Through the hatch was a store room, with a white front bench. Jamie stood at the counter and a cheery face popped up from below the other side and then hands that held a parcel. As the lean male stood, he also placed a tablet next to the parcel.

  “Here you go, sir. Four tabs but you need to watch the restrictions. They have some times and locations that you can’t enter.”

  “Thank you, Private.”

  “This package”—he tapped a finger on a parcel— “contains the overalls you need to wear in cargo, they slip right over your uniform, and the lab suit. You need to strip and dress, go through the decontamination chamber, and follow the usual protocols. Someone will take you on a tour of the labs with the dos and don’ts.” He glanced through his list on the tablet. “That’s it, sign here.” He twisted the EBrain so Jamie could have a quick check.

  “I’ll just inspect the parcel.”

  “Very good, sir.” With an efficient movement, the private opened the parcel; Jamie ran a quick inventory then pressed his finger to the screen to give an SNA sample. The private rewrapped the parcel and pushed it towards him. Jamie dropped it back to the Ritz before heading to the mess.

  Minutes later, Jamie lined up in the mess hall for food and listened to those who chatted and laughed in line, and to those already seated. Few were out of their black overall uniform and those who were had some other uniform with insignias. He chose his food, most of which had been placed behind special transparent sliding doors, and turned to view his options. When a dark-haired and eyed, attractive male smiled and waved him over, he checked to ensure that the wave
was intended for him. The male’s grin and nod encouraged Jamie to join him, so he strode over and sat with him.

  “Hi, I’m Marc.”

  “Jamie.” He sat and forgot that his bench style chair was bolted to the flooring. Silently moaning embarrassment, he also hated that he’d sat with his back to the open space. Marc’s back was to the closest wall where he’d have a better view and protection.

  Marc resumed after a grin and ate his mountain of food, while he eyed off the sparse selection on Jamie’s tray. Jamie ignored him and picked up his fork to try the stir-fry he’d opted for. Marc’s face was pale like his neck and hands, angular and broad.

  “Food’s pretty good on the Repco. Captain doesn’t like complaints about the necessities in life, and that includes tasty food. Just so you know”—the black eyes twinkled— “we all know you’ve been assigned a DEP.”

  “The Ritz.”

  “Well, expect comments.”

  Jamie just nodded and ate. After a few moments of companionable silence, his initial hunger passed. He didn’t want to put on any weight so didn’t finish his plateful. “What do you do on board?”

  “Lab rat. Are you going to eat that?”

  Jamie shoved his plate across. “I volunteered some hours in the lab.”

  “Keen. Good thing you’re already deemed a cut above us cruds as volunteering makes you look like an arse crawler.”

  “I don’t care what it makes me look like.”

  Marc grinned again. “No, I don’t suppose you do. The benefit of not being stuck on this tub for five years.”

  Jamie grimaced. To date he’d been moved around enough to hold his interest. Five years on board the Repco?

  “Yeah, that’s how I feel about it, too.”

  Jamie met the dark eyes with some amusement.

  “We’ve got a good sporting bay here. I’ll show you around if you’d like?”

  Jamie knew he wouldn’t get any sleep anyway and nodded. A good workout would burn off the calories he just ate. He started on his salad and ate his bread roll while Marc chatted amicably about life on board the Repco.

  “Did you like the greeting in the Ritz?”

  Jamie drew a blank for just a moment and then snorted. “Did I want to eject?”

  Marc laughed. “That’s it. A nice little welcome from me. We all get one and now it’s your turn for the next newbie. I’ll send you the list so you can see who’s next in line.”

  Jamie nodded. Pranks were encouraged in the cadets but he didn’t think it was a great idea on board a ranger. What if Levan had been female and Jamie had decided he’d rather eject than stay on board? He hid his grin. After they returned their trays, Marc led him to the rear of the ranger and up a few decks. Jamie had been surprised that Marc was just over six foot and considering how much the male had eaten he was lean. Marc sauntered around while Jamie strode. Around the walls were stripes of orange with closed hatches along the way with numbers and room idents.

  He followed Marc to the end of the companionway and a large hatch lay open. “If this is closed, don’t enter. It means the top tiered officers are in here or there’s something on that’s not an emergency. If there is an emergency the big arse light will flash on and you’ll be deafened by the array of sirens. Had those yet?”

  “Yeah.” Jamie’s eyes opened appreciatively at the assorted equipment, the sparring stations, the roster for classes, the sectioned off rooms for squash and other sports.

  “You can sign up for any teams; they’ll want to check you out. There’s a nutrition bay and fat monitor.” Marc was pointing around the massive area. “Not that you need that.”

  “I like to keep under five percent.”

  Marc eyed him off and raised a dark eyebrow at Jamie’s brisk tone. “Okay.”

  They walked around the area and Jamie signed up for some teams, and he booked various equipment and machines for over a week. He sent the information to the Ritz.

  “You’re jumping on a bike now?” Marc gave him a surprised look.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No.” Marc changed the screen to his account and “moved” his bike next to Jamie’s. It seemed like Jamie was to have more of Marc’s company. They changed into some standard sports shorts and tank tops, took towels and cleaning gear. Jamie set the bike for warm up and then random hill climbs. Marc set his for speed after the warm up. As they sat and began their programs, Marc chatted.

  Jamie almost asked him to let him have some peace but Marc raised an interesting topic. “Heard of Dark Matter Beings?”

  “Ah, no.” Yes, but Jamie kept his knowledge guarded behind several neural ramparts. It surprised him how quickly his current mission abutted his real mission.

  “You will. There are also Energy-matter and Antimatter Beings and they want to embrace us, the Matter-matter Beings, with their loving arms that will zap us, dim us or cancel us out.”

  For a moment Jamie thought Marc was bullshitting, but beneath the humor were grains of truth. He laughed anyway.

  “It’s my job to acquaint you with the Three Empires and Grands.”

  Jamie almost broke his pedal stride but resumed. He glanced across at the male, who was now pedaling faster. “Okay.” After a few moments Jamie asked, “And?”

  “And, not now. I’m busy.”

  Jamie had to laugh at the grin that appeared on Marc’s face. “Later then?” The program clicked and he rode uphill.

  “Later.”

  Sub-Log III

  “Later” proved to be six shifts later, in a secure part of the clean, white lab. Jamie was staring at the bizarre chemical structure that hovered in front of him. Marc joined him and leaned in close. “Now, just pretend we’re chatting about the image in front of you. You look properly puzzled, which is good. The Three E&Gs are structured civilizations complete with import and export laws, visitation policies, and interbeing relations. Oh, before you ask, the Empire is the place, the Grands are the people.”

  “I’d imagine their visitation policies are stringent.” He thought of Antimatter Beings visiting other matter beings. Not a great combination.

  On cue, Marc grinned. “Yeah, not so bad with DM and EMs but the AMs are a problem. They have special buffer zones and barriers covering vast regions of space. Forget macro, think ginormous humongonoid.”

  Jamie chuckled.

  “We’re now classified as plain, old, boring Matter Beings, or MBs, but, as I told you before, I think it should be Matter-matter Beings but no one asked me. Anyway, we were made inside what they call the Core, which we call the Horizon. The Core is where life comes from, a natural pocket of Chaos energy and matter.”

  “Um… What of the Maya and the Cardinal Unit?”

  “Contrary to popular Aryan beliefs, the Maya is the brains; the CU is like a big arse life arc with zillions of templates for species and making shit. Chaos is held in the CU but it draws on the Core so may have a big pump and when Maya pulls up in her CU, she says, ‘Give me six liters of Chaos so I can churn out a PuG.’”

  Jamie laughed. PuG was a cheeky term for the highest race, the Pure-Gen, the only Gen to be fabricated by Maya herself.

  “The thing is MBs are bit of an accident, unwanted children, which I think is horse crap, and we’re being contaminated by Chaos the longer we hang in the Core, so the Three Empire and Grands are going to be approaching the Aryan Government about joining as the Fourth Empire and Grand move to a safe location. We all huddle around the Core, where we use Chaos to do stuff.”

  “Okay. Sounds … grandiose. What’s it to do with me?”

  Marc changed the holo-image.

  Jamie jerked back at the scary looking microbug.

  “With your industriousness already noted, they want to slot you in as a cultural attaché of sorts. They want you to observe the initial meetings.”

  “And you?” Jamie wondered if this procedure was usual, he’d have to check in with his handler.

  “I’m another attaché. There’s four newbies a
ll up to attend the real attachés, they want us in at the beginning. We’re slotted for the Sentinel Program.”

  How coincidental, but he kept his snide thoughts to himself. Jamie eyed him off instead. “One for each E&G?”

  Marc flashed him a grin. “Quick, aren’t you? I’m an EMB, known as the Aether. Almost. I was born in the buffer zone on a rocky planetoid so less Aether than some. Each Empire has a buffer, as I mentioned, which for me was essentially less of the energy state and more general matter, the bit in the middle becomes the buffer zone, neutral areas.”

  “And DM and AMs?” He studied Marc, aware of his own schemas, adapting and putting Marc into a new category. He had thought when their hands touched it was chemistry, but it must have been because he was an Energy Being.

  “Tartarus is dark matter, and Erebus is antimatter. Don’t get them confused with the four Chaos Beings.”

  “What?” Jamie hadn’t heard of Chaos Beings before except in legends and kids’ stories.

  “Never mind.”

  Jamie studied him for a moment before deciding to follow up later and returned to the topic. “I’ve heard those terms … from Earth.”

  “Ah, remember Earth gets its terminology and myths from Aryans and us, not the other way around. Dribs and drabs, mostly skewed on that planet. Ever wonder why Earth time is the same as the Planet of Law and space?”

  It didn’t take a genius. “A deliberate act to remind the Avatara that Earth, while experimental, is a part of Aryan Society.”

  “Yeah, real subtle, huh?”

  Jamie shrugged. It upset him that the Avatara were responsible for Earth. He shoved those thoughts aside. “So, where’s the rot?”

  Marc grinned. “Where it always is, lies have been told. There’s another … race … claiming the Core is theirs. They want to stop us from huddling around the Core and keeping Chaos to ourselves.”

  “Not the Maya and CU?”

  “No, that’s what is confusing. They claim the Core exists for them alone, and Matter Beings of any state are mistakes to be corrected.”