“I’m telling you – every goddamn scientist I’ve ever met is the same. Just absolute pricks. I thought I was honoured to meet a Lengti scientist, a real special occasion, but he just kept rambling about how delightful my body would be with a few dozen implants jammed it. Next, I met this researcher of Cambiar biology who just happened to have an all-female xeno staff to assist him, and who kept giggling at his stupid jokes. We all know what’s going on there. And lastly, goddamn Bernard fucking Warnick. An absolute fucking traitor to us Echorists – he fights against the very truth the rest of us seek. When I asked him about an obvious lie he told on stage once, he said to me ‘Yeah, that happened. I’m positive. HIV positive.’ And then he had the gall to laugh at me! Honestly, these ‘men of science’ are just children playing at being adults.” – Interview of an Echorist conducted by Tuscany Kunningham, Investigative Independent Journalist, 2260. Extracted from ‘Why Science is bullshit and Echorism is king’.
“Do you ever get the feeling something really bad is about to happen?” Kurt said, not helping the already anxious mood of the group within the atmos-craft as it took off from the Nucleus’ landing pad.
When the others looked at him, he just shrugged and looked out the window. Of course, the only one not buzzing with the usual pre-presentation knee bounces and neck scratches was the bodyguard not presenting anything to the entire scientific community. Even Elias, who typically couldn’t care less about stress before his usual speeches and exhibitions of his work was feeling the pressure. Not only was the sheer scale of it all now finally in sight, the shimmering spires of Urestor closing in as part of a convoy towards the Tylasian city, but the weight in his pocket felt like an anchor. Why on earth had he decided to not only prepare his usual presentation on the interspecies harness, but another, haphazardly put together one, for the DS-Drive?
Maybe he was having ambitious dreams of sneaking the flash drive in his pocket to some aspiring CCH inventor as a means of spreading the device without his direct intervention, or perhaps going to Rannos and Lucian and saying ‘Look, I didn’t just spend the past few months barely doing work and having sex with my partner, I made this!’. Maybe he was just delusional. Maybe he wanted his real work close by as a means of comfort. Knowing that all the time he had spent at Nucleus had not only rewarded him with close connections, the sort of friendship and love he had never had before, but also a materialistic gift for his hard efforts.
And so, feeling like his time at Nucleus was reaching a bittersweet conclusion, he leant against the window to look down upon the alien city as they drifted past its outer walls. Mounted atop battlements at equal spaces along the exterior of the glassy ramparts were huge beam turrets. It appeared that the Tylas were not bluffing when it came to the firepower they could bring to arms. If only those beams weren’t prepared for usage against humanity, then perhaps some real progress between the Tylas and the other races could begin.
Passing over the outer defences, Elias noted the lack of a real street, as it were. In between the towers of varying sizes and height were deep chasms, running far into the depths of the asteroid the foundations of the city were built on. It was only as he looked closer that he saw that what he had assumed were dots in his vision were actually the thousands of Tylas floating about, most watching the convoy above. What did they think of them – the first humans to step foot into their holy city? It was as the atmos-craft passed over the vast gullies, the unusual, angular design of the buildings a far cry from that of standard corporate design, that a clear distinction was made between one particular sector of the city to the rest.
Instead of the argent material that appeared to make up the rest of Urestior, the section that Elias could only assume was the dedicated religious quarter, based on the sheer volume of gargantuan hexagonal monoliths, each engraved with a depiction of Barald, or perhaps some other Tylas of note. These plinths made of less dazzling material, some sort of black stone, surrounded a number of boxy structures, their roofs domed and their exteriors lacking any windows of sorts. In fact, in the central nexus of the whole sector, the largest building lacked any sort of entrance. Was there some other way in, or were the Tylas inside that dedicated to their beliefs that they never left?
These thoughts were forced to be put on hold as their ship approached the titanic tower of hoary silver. It was in that spire, wide enough to fit an old earth sports stadium twice over, that the presentations were to take place. With gentle thrusts, the convoy landed on one of many affixed awnings to the building, so high up that the green gases of Kral’Thul rendered the lesser structures below into hazy shapes. Eager to stretch his legs, Elias stood up.
“So, who wants to go first?” Elias asked. “Bernard? I’m sure the Tylas media would love to see you in person.”
“Thanks Elias ,” Bernard said, shaking his head. “But I’m a little over the attention right now. Go on, have some fun – you’ve earned it Mr Human Handshake.”
Elias groaned at the nickname as he turned to leave. Gods above, he was never going to live down the reveal of his relationship with Chel-Lin. Still, maybe it was better to have that aired out in the open. With the permission from the winking older scientist granted, Elias assumed his old, shuffling, pompous persona when he hobbled out of the atmos-craft. Though not many Tylas were gathered on the landing platform itself, a small crowd had formed near the entranceway. Based on variety of colours and volume shawls the alien wore, it appeared a variety of differing classes of Tylas were there. The guards were clear, wielding not just Tylas beam rifles, but also some human railguns. It appeared some corporation had jumped the gun and had already begun providing the Tylas with extra firepower.
Stepping forward, joining the clusters of other nervous scientists as they left their own ships, Elias felt the light buzz of holographic Tylas cameras upon. Ahh, it was good to be back in his element, though it did feel somewhat… scummy. He had no need to hide his actual nature whilst working with the others at Nucleus, but being forced to put on the visage of the past Dr Savage felt sleezy. However, Elias had planned for this, and he would undergo a little adjustment before his presentation.
Looking back at the others as they stood behind him, he made an effort to hunch over even further than normal as he put on a wry smile.
“Ready?”
The group stood in the single tunnel-like entrance leading to the stage, ready to head on. The first wing of Nucleus had done a good enough job, presenting some mediocre research as a group on behavioural impacts of settlements like Birkdale’s Gate, and how humanity could learn from the Tylas city structure. Perfectly harmless, like Lucian wanted, except it didn’t take months of research to realise that humans can’t fly, and Birkdale was one of thousands of similar towns spread across the colonies of the CCH. Good job guys, bet the Tylas were real happy to spend money on that.
Still, it was their time to shine with their own, also perfectly banal, discussions. Madison had toned down her work on an alternative method for producing syraline, though one with high upkeep costs. These cost, of course, were utter bullshit, fabricated to stop the audience from losing their heads. Bernard’s work on splicing genetic code of various vegetable produce had actually turned out pretty good; it would likely result in supporting the outer colonies where food was much harder to be produced. Good on him. The real take away for the rock-and-roll scientist was the fact he looked much happier. Elias hadn’t enquired as to where his work on solving his personal issue had gotten to, but based on the carefree expression he had held since their revelation about his condition, it was sure to be looking good.
Chel-Lin’s work on alternative QIS stabilisation mediums, a topic that was laughably pointless in hindsight with the DS-Drive, had worked, at the very least. A slightly grumpy Algernon had taken the brunt of the testing towards the end of their time at Nucleus, though none the worse for wear. As for Elias, there was one last thing to do before he stepped on stage.
“Kurt, you have the stuff?” Elias said, ready for his transformation.
His bodyguard nodded and handed over various pieces of clothing to Elias. Until that point, he had assumed his scruffy appearance for the Tylas, and for whoever else was watching, hoping to give them a false impression of who he was – an uncaring, prideful, smug prick. Well, that may have been half right, but Elias hoped to change his optics ever so slightly. One by one, he switched out his old attire for the replacement one Kurt had given him. He shed his stained lab coat for a slick suit jacket, his untied sneakers for dress shoes, and his scratched glasses for a stylish pair of tinted multifocals. Peeling away the patch of fake stubble had put plastered onto his face that morning, he ran a hand over his smooth chin and cheeks.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Huh, I did think you shaved last night,” Chel-Lin said.
“What can I say?” Elias said with a shrug. “I really wanted to look the part of the old me.”
“Oh, and what’s so special about the new one?” Madison said, grinning.
Turning towards the stage where a number of side seats were placed for the non-speakers, and an empty podium stood, Elias took a deep breath. The announcer called out their names and their main schools of study before inviting them on stage.
“I’m not really sure myself,” Elias said with a deep breath. “But let’s find out.”
Elias had taken the spot as first speaker for the group, which was probably a good idea, as he felt as though his gut was a twisted net of butterflies all scurrying for freedom. Walking on the wide platform, he saw what it must feel like to be in the truest sense of the word ‘famous’. Where he had some major speeches before decent crowds, the setting was like nothing else he’d ever seen before. The spire had been huge on the outside, but to see the space on the interior was nothing short of breathtaking.
The stage opened out to a curved wall of seats, cameras and screens, some hundred meters away from the stage behind a near bottomless drop. Elias called it a stage, but it was closer to a flat plinth open on all sides and surrounded by onlookers. The Tylas looked onto their exposed position did not sit, as Chel-Lin had learned to do over time. Sintead, they floated in predetermined spots, clearly separated into the varied strata of their society by walls and coloured boundaries.
A number of those with red and blues scarves sat in a less extravagant seating, and positioned at a lower angle than their superiors. These represented the lower end of the Tylas strata system - representatives of those affiliated with manual work and the day-to-day running of infrastructure within the Heralds. Higher up were a mix of purple clothed aliens - bureaucrats and administrators like Kar-Trine, Chel-Lin’s father. And, at the top, looking down from a highly segregated patch of turrets were a mix of white and black wearing individuals – those affiliated with the religious management of the Heralds and the empire’s leaders. Aveo-Dos, the smarmy asshole would be there, somewhere. Making faces out in the crowd was hard, and telling Tylas apart was not yet one of Elias’ strong suits.
Nestled in between the alien groups, who had noticeably turned their attention away from one another to look upon the scientists, were groups of humans, Cambiar and screens. The corporations, their ships still likely waiting for permission to access Kral’Thul in person, had tuned in. With his new glasses, scratches gone, Elias barely made out the sight of an excited Dr Rannos giving a thumbs up, and a tense Lucian, arms folded. It appeared someone had woken on the wrong side of the bed. Interestingly, a group of humans wearing a mixture of standard formal wear and some Cambiar in more extravagant, robe-like attire were nestled into a cluster to the side. Even on the largest inter-sys news channels, Elias had not heard much about the Out-Han Alliance, a seemingly sore spot for the six remaining megacorporations, but the descriptions he had seen in the past matched the group. As he watched them, a few appeared to be intently listening into earpieces, fingers pressed against the sides of their heads, before a small contingent left the vast room.
Walking up to the podium, and feeling very exposed on all sides, Elias checked all the equipment he needed was there. A number of mounted screens stretched up and around the open plinth he and the others were on, and a computer system was ready for his input. He pulled out his paper notes, sitting them astride the built-in laptop to manage his presentation, and reached into his pocket. Elias touched the flash drives, plural, in his pocket.
Hmm.
Two there – one his interspecies harness discussion, very drab, boring and safe, and the other… The other was his work on the DS-Drive, prescience speculation not included. Elias may be insane, but not suicidally insane enough to include that data anywhere not 100% secure. He drummed his fingers inside his pocket, thinking deeply. The audience must’ve thought he was having technical issues, staring at the computer like a dumbass, but he was instead having ethical issues.
Could he do it? Was it right to do it, even if he wanted to? It would be beyond ridiculous to go back on everything he had done to not ‘rock the boat’, but how could he not? For once in his life, he had felt his work could actually make an impact on the ever-moving but always slow wheel of human advancement. Did he have the right to have such a drastic impact on the galaxy as a whole? The cost would be significant, both for anyone trying to adapt to the new DS-Drive and to himself. Then again, what good came from an easy life. Yet, there was only one last person he wanted the approval of before he made such a leap of faith.
Looking to the side, he made eye contact with Chel-Lin. There was initially confusion on her face, as he had not mentioned what he had put together, but she seemed to quickly twig what he intended. All he needed was a subtle shake of her head, and business would go on as normal. ‘Enjoy this crappy harness everyone!’ Instead, she took a shuddering sigh, which for a lungless alien probably meant it was biggest decision of her life. She nodded. For Elias, that was all he needed to make his choice. He pulled his hand from the trouser pocket and…
Was surprised to find Chel-Lin drifting towards his side. Ah, it appeared he was not going down such an uncharted path alone. Someone else was willing to follow him through the fire and the flames. A silent look was exchanged between the two, and Elias pulled both thumb drives out and slotted them into the computer. Looking up and towards the confused crowd, Elias cracked his neck and began.
“Hello all,” Elias said. “I am afraid that, for better or worse, there has been a bit of a misconception here. Whilst the work you may have expected today, as per your itinerary, has been completed, as you can see here…” Elias opened up his presentation on the interspecies harness and dragged the window over to the side of the display. “So have a look at that if you like the idea of a better harness, and good on you if you do. I know I got some great use out of them.”
Elias could see the crowd shuffling about in confusion, so he decided not to leave them hanging. With a few clicks, he put on display a grand overview of the FTL project. The entirety of the main screen was overtaken by a collage of blueprints, theorems and formulas. He was certain many of the arrivals at the presentation were not people of science, and so he made it very clear the invention was of both human and Tylas design, the primary clear schematic showing how the enhanced S-Drive had been attached to a Tylasian Bubble Field Manipulator.
He went over the exact basics, the fact that he and Chel-Lin, or ‘Burning Scribe Daksira’ as he politely put it, had worked together on the project, and what it would mean. Schr?dinger-Jumps without QIS Stabilisation liquid, much further range and precision of travel, easy application to all ship types, and more were laid out. It was barely as he started the illicit discussion that he saw the expressions of his supervisors changing. Whilst Rannos initially just tilted his head, eye stalks squinting, he soon broke out into a wide, open jawed smile as he nodded feverously.
Lucian, however, was not such a happy camper. The second Elias pulled out two flash drives, his weak smile faded and his eyes bulged. By the time he made it clear that ‘whilst misappropriation of Nucleus resources might have been needed, he had the full permission of Chel-Lin to work with the technology of her people’, Lucian was frantically mouthing the word ‘no’ over and over. The sight of seeing the corporate suit become infuriated as he shouted orders down a comm-device was undeniably sweet to see. A number of the visitors had made calls of their own, likely trying to understand the situation and what the implications of the DS-Drive would mean. No doubt the few Keepers left in employ would be out of luck soon – then again, every human willing to be an anchor for the new device had become a Keeper of a sorts.
The most shocking thing about his surprise reaction was the lack of shock from certain people. Chel-Lin had clearly been watching her father, whom Elias had only met a few more times since his help with the lab accident, and he was calmly discussing the invention with his colleagues. Yes, it appeared certain clusters, presumably those tied to Kar-Trine and the Proclaimers, were pleased with the work. Huh. Funnily enough, Elias spotted one red-wearing Tylas in particular who abandoned all attention towards the DS-Drive in favour of focusing on the interspecies harness, waving his tendrils in wild abandon.
With an undeniable sense of smugness about having not just rocked the boat, but tipped it over, dragged it to the bottom of the ocean, and thrown it in a geothermal vent, Elias was nothing if not proud about his invention. Valentari did not seem to approve of what he had done, his face tomato red as he screamed down his comm-device at someone. Knowing he likely didn’t have long left, he wrapped up the data, letting Chel-Lin, her voice shaky at first but growing more confident, make her own points about how the DS-Drive stood as a bridge between the CCH and the Tylas. The new machine could not be mass produced without the aid of both humanity’s finest, and the Tylas’ brightest working as one – a message many seemed to grasp from their introspective gazes and understanding nods.
As the stomping of boots from the entrance tunnel approached, Elias thought of only one thing to say to the crowd before security arrived.
“So… any questions?”
Needless to say, the guards were not gentle. With a hard thunk, Elias hid the silver floor of the open stage as a half-dozen security guards tackled him. Thankfully, Chel-Lin went unharmed, Lucian’s anger apparently laser focused. Ah, well. When life gives you lemons, you develop a new form of faster than light travel with an alien who becomes your girlfriend, whilst potentially tapping into some esoteric information about being able to see the future.
Wasn’t that how the phrase went?
