The Wildplanet Part -6 (the First One in the Chronology) {Start Here!}

First draft, and that's (-6) as in, before zero.

“Despite your questions we must finish this last order of business gentlemen; do you confirm or deny that the used fuel dump procedure has been initiated properly?”

 Across the rounded graphine table both men verbally acknowledged and typed in their written concurrences on the routine fuel dump. A monitor from outside the ship momentarily flickered to life above the table showing a misting silver trail falling away from the ship at lightning speed. In moments the manmade comet tail was gone. The three men turned their attention back to a more pressing if no less necessary matter.

The tall man with the bristling mustache gestured at the curved dome that was being projected above the tabletop.

“This can’t be right; the calculations suggested a tropical climate. Where are the lakes? Where are the oceans? As far as this thing can tell us it’s just a big, big...” The man stuttered off into silence, his mustache quivering under the force of his indignation.

“Jungle.” The thin man intoned blandly as he leaned his elbows on the table and puffed on his sinth-aret. His large dark eyebrows perched precariously over his eyes as if about to take flight. They waggled as the thin man glanced around the table.

“Well what did you expect? That they would just give us all this terraforming gear and then waste it on a planet that didn’t really need it? Do you even have the vaguest idea of what this mission is really about?”

There was a pregnant pause as the third man ran his hand over his bald head in a nervous gesture. His white uniform was perfectly ordered but as the mustachioed man began to glare in his direction the Captain began to adjust his high stiff collar and pick at his silvery buttons. Under the rage filled stare he burst out:

“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about Dr.; everything so far is going according to our prefilled mission plan. We will approach the planet well within the Earth year. The planet is ready for human habitation with minor terraforming. That can be completed well within the technological time window. Even after most of our larger instruments have ceased to function reliably the various smaller equipment will still work once the solar umbrella reaches the level of maximum charge. Everything, I repeat everything, gentlemen is going according to the plan.”

The mustached man leaned back in his chair, forehead creased in furious thought. He glared at the Dr. and back at the Captain. “Captain, if that is so true, then will you tell me what on God’s Green Earth this is. And how it fits into the damn plan!”

“Well Mr. Masters, You see the original projections for the planet was that of a class 1H, a planet, as you know, that is prepared in complete for human habitation. Our mission was fully equipped with the technology however to deal with a class 3H planet on the chance that the projection was off. The planet the computer has digitally analyzed and mapped for us is the Geo-Sphere in question. As it turns out the planet is a class 2H and therefor well within our range of control. So though this planet is not the Garden of Eden the mission will continued as planned.”

 This last speech the captain said in a steady commanding voice that squished the doubt from his previous tone. His body language however did not match his imperious voice; Dr. Amberson noticed this and made his approach carefully. A nervous man has many times throughout history proven the more deadly than the confident.

“And yet something has not quite added up.”

“Dr. what do you mean?” Despite his blustering and profusion of glares Mr. Masters was quite nervous. His hands gripped the table until his knuckles turned white.

“You see Mr. Masters since the beginning of the voyage I have felt that something is not quite right with our mission. Oh yes on the outside the premise seems perfectly logical. Because of an over population issue the earth government has decided that an expeditionary colony is necessary. To not waste this opportunities of a “new world” 5,000 of the world’s finest, and perhaps luckiest, scientists have been chosen to be part of the mission. On a new planet they can pursue their various fields in new ways while having a whole planet to experiment and learn from. All the new information they are able to gleam will be sent by the multi-dimensional real-time alpha transmitter (MD RAT), or Dr. Rat as it is referred to commonly, back to Earth.”

“Yes, yes get on with it Dr.! Stop being so damn mellow dramatic.”

“Yes, well hmm… Anyways as a psychologist this whole a*s-backwards situation has intrigued me since well before the ship left earth.  I hadn’t figured it out completely by the beginning of the voyage, but in the months that followed I’ve been able to get the general situation together. And after doing extensive research and running the math through the ships computer I have come to a startling conclusion. This is not a colony mission. This is a mission of a whole different breed. A military mission.”

“Damn it Amberson don’t screw with me now. What in the hazy hells are you talking about!”

“Yes Dr., please explain these wild accusations. You have totally lost me.” The nervousness that didn’t show on his face came out in the Captain’s desire to constantly smooth his pant legs which were pristinely creased and wrinkle free.

“Thank you Captain, and if I may, I will do so, in detail.”

“As is known to all aboard our vessel, of the 100,000 passengers 5,000 are the selected men and women chosen to spend their days on our destination expanding our knowledge of the various sciences that humanity has in its stunted grasp. These 5,000, as I said earlier, are selected for their proficiency in their fields. Now to the average observer that is exactly what these 5,000 are, but I, my friends, am not the ‘average’ observer.” Here he tapped out the synthetic ash from his smoke into the small tray he pulled out from his pocket. As the tiny red flecks faded to a dull grey and were harvested by the tray he continued:

“These 5,000 men and women are not the best or even the most known in their fields of expertise. These doctors and business persons are often not even recognized as active contributors in their fields! In small terms: These people are not the people the government would choose for such a mission. For some reason the people who should be on this mission aren’t. Now when I did case studies of a random selection of these 5,000 I discovered something that should have been apparent to me right away. These people were probably the smartest in the world. On the ship I have personally interacted with about three dozen of these people and though some of them may have apparent social handicaps this is only because they are so brilliant. I knew then that I was onto something really big. If I was right and that months of research and data pointed to this one conclusion then why was the Government sending the world’s finest stock of geniuses to the end of the universe?”

A small buzz sounded as the ashtray popped out a tiny capsule that looked like a grey rubber eraser. The Captain twitched at this, a tiny jerking motion of his hand towards his armpit. His hand relaxed back into a firm fist on the table. Amberson pretended not to have seen or understood the implications. With a casual motion the Dr. took the tiny grey cylinder and popped it into the end of his smoke pushing down the little ash that lingered there deep into the grey tube. With a flick of his fingers he lit a match and lit the tube and began to pull in the grey swirling smoke. In seconds the match itself had burned away leaving only a sulfur dust on his elegant fingers. Amberson wiped his sooty fingers on his pants and continued, sinth-aret sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

“This-” He waved vaguely around the chamber apparently indicating the ship and the mission.

“Is a ruse. A trap. A snare set by men who will never live to see their prey caught, because they are still on Earth living and dying as we travel at relativistic speeds. Think back to the events prior to our departure. Think of the eternal strive that was happening between the states of the world Government. Remember the instability of the various departments of the government. Remember the man hunt that went on for one man. Harrold Maxum.”

“Oh great gods, is that all you're talking about Amberson? Cause if that’s all then I for one am relieved.” He sat back smugly rolling his eyes.

“Harrold Maxum was considered the deadliest man on the planet earth for six months. He was hunted in every way the government knew how, and then, nothing. For two years the government would make no statements. But out of the blue this mission was created. For only the second time in their history the internal states did not argue about an idea proposed before them. Soon this idea was adopted by the Union Council as one of their primary programs. They planned to make a colony at the farthest corner of space. In the several hundred years that the Union Council has been holding sessions there has only been one other issue so closely agreed upon: The decision that Harrold Maxum was the most dangerous man on earth and that he needed to be found and eliminated.  And I believe that when they figured out how to do that, that’s what they did. They sent him to the farthest corner of space.”

Dr. Amberson bent his head and stared at the grey shiny surface of the table.

“All that we know for sure about Harrold Maxum is that he is the most brilliant man, or woman, ever to walk the earth. He erased himself from the information networks. Something that computer scientists still claim is impossible for an army of hackers to do, let alone a single one. There was only one piece of information that the government was able to retain and that was his test scores. Those scores made them very very nervous. So the question was, is, I guess, how do you catch the world’s smartest man? It’s like trying to catch just one fish in a lake. And so the government caught all the fish. They took the 5,000 smartest people in the world and sent them off of earth. That is what is referred to in professional terms as a: ‘Damn big net.’ My friends, if they did what they think they did… then Harrold Maxum is on this ship!”

In his reclining chair Mr. Masters began to choke until tears ran down his eyes. His seat rocked back and forth and it wasn’t until Dr. Amberson realized that he was laughing that he himself began to sit down again, disgustedly.

“So you, are telling me.” Choked out Masters. “That you think that the government would spend trillions of dollars to create a ‘fake’ colony project to catch one man and-“Here his laughter overtook his speech, but after a few seconds with mustache flapping he regained his equilibrium.

“And that he, Harrold Maxum, is on this ship, NOW?” Fortunately Masters was saved from another contorting fit of laughter by the utter terror that shot through him as the Captain drew his pistol from its holster beneath his armpit.

“Yes.” Said the Captain as he leveled his pistol at the Dr.’s wide eyed face. “And he may be standing before us.”

Author's Note

What do you think?

Reviews

[Cupofwords]

I like your writing (as a first draft). It fits a sci-fi theme. I also like chapters that open with dialogue but I get lost if there are too many people and I am not familiar with them. All the people start as men with different physical characteristics. These are great but I need names, positions, ranks, etc. right off the bat or they are just people chatting. I see the characters are introducing the other characters with titles but it has less power, for me anyway. Good start though.

[Michale Rune]

Hey thanks for commenting. Your points are very valid and in the revised draft I will keep in mind a need to establish the characters more clearly. This work was based off my story "the Wild Planet Part 0" which I wrote for a wiki website where some people had created a scifi universe they were writing fictional history for. I was intrigued and pitched them my idea and it wasn't excepted, so the work sat in my documents for a while getting dusty. After I found this website though, I found it once again and re-energized decided maybe I could make a good short story series out of it. The Foundation Series is a big influence on me in general but specifically on how I approached these stories. Thanks again!

[Michale Rune]

Please Review this!!!!!!!!!