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"Replication"

Chapter #6 of the novel "Regeneration"
by R. David Pareis

Here Are "The Portals" To My Other Pages.

"REGENERATION" Prologue

"THE TROJAN WAR" Ch#4

"STAR SCROLL" Prologue

"UNCLE BENTOR" Ch#1

"THE FRIENDS OF ING" Ch#2

"THE BLACK WOLF" Ch#3

"THE BATTLE OF ELAH" Ch#4

"BURDEN OF TIME"

"CIRCLE OF PRECESSION"

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For the purposes of characterization and plot, I have decided to make available the following chapter of my new novel, "Regeneration." Feel free to comment in my Guestbook.

Chapter #6 "REPLICATION"

“Pour forth heaven’s wine, Idaen Ganymede,
And let it fill the Daedal cups like fire.”
From Shelley’s “Prometheus”

ISSN Broadcast [June 30, 2084]

“We sure have missed you, Daddy. Now that your long space mission is nearly completed, all of us here are so looking forward to welcoming you back home,“ excitedly exclaimed the recorded image of Colonel Robert Graves’ 24-year-old daughter, Megan, from Lion’s Bay, British Columbia.

The familiar background scenes from his native Canadian homeland displayed on the digitized Earth-mail message made Colonel Graves feel quite nostalgic. He sat reflectively in thought with his fingers steepled under his chin as he watched his youngest daughter speak. Every time he received mail from home, he could hardly beleive how much his family had changed over the eight years he had been gone.

Colonel Graves was seated onboard his command vessel, the Blue Moon, while gravitationally anchored behind the low orbiting Martian moon, Phobos. The moon spiraled like a football through Mars’ thin high atmosphere in order to give its inhabitants a sufficient gravity to sustain long-term inhabitation.

The twenty-eight-kilometer long moon’s original tumbling end-over-end orbit had been corrected five decades before when the Lewis One Biosphere and the Navajo Space Port had been constructed within the moon’s dominant geographical feature--Stickney Crater.

Graves could see the panoramic view of the rotating Stickney Crater filling the Blue Moon’s forward-view screen. Deep under that crater lay the inner-moon metropolis of Globus which contained a population of close to five thousand colonists.

The great rusty surface of Mars rolled underneath on the Blue Moon’s aft-view screen. The five other globular vessels of the Spectrum Fleet and their huge ore barges could be seen anchored in gravitational orbits behind the Blue Moon.

Graves was amazed how much his youngest daughter, Megan, now resembled his former wife, Candice. The familiar pain resurfaced like an unavoidable sixth-sense as he recalled her tragic and needless death during a routine trans-continental flight on Earth a mere decade before. The pain of losing her to a sabitour’s bomb was the only reason he had accepted command of the Euro-Nation-Conglomerate Spectrum Fleet in the first place.

He wondered how his two daughters, Megan and Hannah, would respond to his unexpected plans to marry again when the remaining taped message from British Columbia was suddenly over-ridden by an ENC government broadcast.

“Greetings to you from Earth, Colonel Graves, Commander of the Spectrum Fleet. I am Senate Leader Richard Pavlovic,” announced the telecommunication message from ENC headquarters in Paris, France.

“I am sorry to barge in on you uninvited this way, but I have a top priority message which I must deliver to you immediately,” continued the Slovic-accented voice of the Senate Leader. Graves recognized Pavlovic’s voice as the same high ranking government official who spear-headed the current Martian terraforming project.

The enshrouded man displayed on Graves’ communication screen was unidentifiable--as usual. If it were not for the man’s familiar voice, the Colonel would never have been able to recognize him. Since he had never actually seen the face of Richard Pavlovic, Graves only recognized the Senate Leader’s raspy voice because it was the same one which had given him orders during his last eight-year mission.

“You are to disregard all former ENC directives concerning the terraforming project of the planet Mars. Terminate, I repeat, terminate all action connected with project Charlie Alpha Nine, code name Regeneration.

At this date and time, I am commanding you not to transport your scheduled ore barges to the Martian core. Instead, I want you to dry-dock your payload at the Navajo Space Port on Phobos. I now have other plans for your vast stock pile of asteroid ore,” announced the monotone voice of the ENC Senate Leader.

“Once the ore is safely docked, dispatch half of your fleet to the Gallilean moon-orbits around Jupiter while sending the other half to Earth’s Moon, Luna. When your entire fleet is in position, proceed immediately with the specifications of the new project, Delta Omega, code name Replication.

Your new DO directives will be outlined for you in the encrypted holographic file I am sending out now for your eyes only,” continued the time-delayed broadcast from Earth.

Colonel Robert Graves silently fumed in his seat for the entire six-minute time period that it took for the ISSN to magnify the incoming laser telecommunication beam and prepare for his return transmission to Earth.

The ISSN, or Inner Solar System Network, was a series of communication satellites spread out along the orbits of the Earth-crossing Apollo Asteroids. The large elliptical orbits of the Apollo Asteroids had been utilized to receive and amplify deep space communications mainly between the Earth and Mars.

When the ISSN finally gave Colonel Graves the green-light to proceed, he spoke with all the determination he could muster. He had a bad feeling about the unexpected new ENC directive he had just been given. Graves immediately thought of Morti Rodriguez, the young penal woman aboard his ship whom he had fallen in love with during their difficult mining years within the Asteroid Belt.

He feared that Morti’s somewhat paranoid premonitions of impending doom for the entire Solar System were impossibly coming true. If a fraction of all the calamity which she had fore-warned him about over the previous six Earth-months actually took place, then the new ENC directive would be opening a Pandora’s Box of dangerous chain reactions. When the ISSN finally gave him clearance to respond again, he immediately began his return transmission.

“Mr. Senate Leader, my Spectrum Fleet personnel have bravely endured the past eight Earth-years of grueling hard labor while living a Spartan existence deep in the Asteroid Belt. Our difficult work there was not without the loss of many good people...both penal and military.

Over those years, my crew has remained loyal and steadfast. We believed that our goal of mining a sufficient mass of ore for the Martian core from M-type asteroids rich in nickel and iron was an honorable and worthy task.

I feel it my duty to remind you that these ore barges I am delivering are vital to the thousands of Martian colonists on the surface below as I speak. They will desperately need this ore, if they ever hope to succeed with ENC’s original long-term plan to terraform Mars.

However, on the eve of this historical accomplishment, you suddenly inform me that you basically have had no intention of ever re-firing the Martian core in accordance with the directives of project CAN.

This god-forsaken ore was mined by the broken bodies of many hard-working ENC citizens. I will not even attempt to tell you all the costs that were involved with the construction and operation of the massive ore factory on the surface of the planetoid, Ceres.

I feel I deserve a better explanation than what you have told me thusfar. In fact, I demand to be told just what the hell is going on!”

The Colonel’s face had turned into a mask of rage and disbelief as he spoke. He had unconsciously hunched forward in his commander’s chair during his return transmission to glare at the dark form of the ENC Senate Leader.

The frozen-framed, unmoving silhouette of Senator Pavlovic stared back at him accross the void during his transmission. The Senate Leader was seated like a statue behind some obscure desk back on Earth while being displayed on his ISSN communication screen.

“If our huge stockpile of asteroid-mined ingots aren’t going to be used for the rejuvenation of the Martian core mass, then just what in blue-blazes ARE they going to be used for?” With that question, the Colonel ended his return transmission with a fierce scowl.

Another time delayed interval frayed at Graves’ nerves until a new transmission finally arrived. During his impatient wait, the Senate Leader’s promised holographic file finished downloading onto his terminal’s three-dimensional storage device.

The Senate Leader’s live-action body language immediately informed Graves that he would get no satisfactory answer from the closed-mouthed government official. The faceless man just sat motionless with his head tilted somewhat sideways in obvious irritation. After a strained moment of silence or indecision, the official at last gave a simple shrug of his shoulders and then a flippant wave of his hand.

“You have your orders. I strongly suggest you obey them or I will find someone who will,” came the blunt reply just before Graves’ communication terminal lost its ISSN transmission signal.

“Damn,” spouted Graves while pounding the top of the console desk loudly with his bare fist.

Some of the bridge officers aboard the Blue Moon turned from their tasks to look on curiously, unaccustomed to seeing a fit of rage from their commander.

“I have the finest bloody military fleet in the Solar System. Yet, I haven’t got a clue what in hell I have been doing for the past eight years,” he hollered at them as they scurried back to their work stations to escape his wrath.

Graves suddenly felt a powerful headache. If the ENC brain-trust had never planned to use his ore barges to re-fire the core of Mars, then the entire Martian terraforming project had been nothing more than an elaborate facade to hide their true intentions.

God only knew what those intentions were, he thought to himself as he glanced at the stored hologram icon on his terminal screen.

He sighed deeply, and then transferred the hologram file to his personal quarters for private viewing. After reluctantly giving control of the Blue Moon’s bridge to his second in command, he rode a ship’s elevator to the officer’s quarters.

As he approached his private room, the door sensor opened his small cubicle and then closed silently behind him. He hated those damned silent doors. He remembered back in his early days on Earth when there had been nothing better than a good door slam to voice his displeasure.

The Colonel poured himself a scotch on the rocks. Then he lit one of the Cuban cigars he’d been saving while slowly making his way over to his holographic console. He mindlessly watched his favorite aquarium program for a few minutes while not even tasting the scotch or the fine cigar.

“Damn,” he muttered in reflection to himself just before pressing the remote button on his wrist band to execute the new holographic program. Strictly on impulse, he activated his quarter’s security camera. He had found it a useful tool to record certain incoming priority messages for review purposes.

The simulated hologram’s luminous green water tank, the blue coral reef, and the black and yellow angel fish suddenly disappeared to reveal a large rotating ENC logo which designated a high priority message. Then a man’s face appeared within the three-foot-square holographic console and began speaking about a new project called Replication.

The boyish-faced Earther had about as much rhetorical skill as a recorded robotic message. Graves sipped the last of his scotch with irritation and then crunched an ice cube while trying to pay attention to the talking head.

“The planet Mars has now completed serving its purpose as a stepping stone for human colonization for the Inner Solar System. But at least for now, that purpose has been fulfilled.

Completely terraforming Mars has never been the goal of ENC expansion into the Outer Solar System. What you are about to see must not be repeated or discussed with ANYONE at this time under the severest penalties of both military and civil law.”

A moving hologram image of the Earth and the Moon flashed into view. Orbiting around the Moon, Graves could easily recognize three globular vessels from his own Spectrum Fleet.

Imperceptibly at first, the Moon’s orbit around the Earth began to erode wider and wider. As Luna finally disappeared from view, a new moon was ushered in by the remaining three vessels of his fleet to take its place. The new moon was icy red in color and strikingly familiar. Colonel Graves gasped when he recognized it. The Earth’s new moon was to be Europa, which was one of Jupiter’s Gallilean moons!

Juptiter's moon, Europa

Graves stood stunned as the new moon settled into Earth’s orbit and began to change. Over time, its icy surface melted and partially evaporated into an atmosphere. Mud-red land and oceans began to appear until Europa looked like a bloody little replica of Earth.

“Why spend untold billions over the next few centuries to terraform Mars, when we can simply replace Luna with a new moon just waiting to be created and populated?” chimed the ENC brat.

Graves watched the three-dimensional console spell-bound with shock as an expanded view of the Outer Solar System was brought to life. The former Earth moon, Luna, was taken in tow by half his fleet and was transported to Jupiter to replace Europa’s vacated orbit. Luna’s fully populated and well established space station would immediately become a new ENC outpost into the Outer Solar System.

What transpired next within the holographic console forced Graves to stumble backwards onto the recliner behind him. He watched in awe as the remaining three globular vessels of his fleet towed the planet Mars into a Gallilean orbit around Jupiter. Then the fourth Jupiter Galilean moon, Ganymede, was ushered by his entire fleet to take Mars’ place as the new fourth planet of the Solar System.

Jupiter's moon, Ganymede

“Once you have completed these moon transplants, you will retrieve the two stranded moons, Phobos and Deimos, and place them in safe orbits around Ganymede.

The Navajo Space Port within Stickney Crater will be invaluable during the warming stages of Ganymede as the new fourth planet,” stated the young voice of the holographic commentator.

A fast-time rendition of Ganymede’s birth as a living world followed in blurring, spectacular detail until the Inner Solar System was pictured having not just one, but three inhabitable worlds. Graves felt an empty feeling within the pit of his stomach as he pondered the fate of Mars and its colonists.

The geothermal energy complexes located along the wind turbine power-line on the Martian surface would remain serviceable despite the freezing of its thin atmosphere in orbit around Jupiter. Also, the deep core shafts that had been constructed under Olympus Mons would provide a very large and safe underground base of operations for future ENC projects.

Graves scratched his scalp and groaned. There would be a difficult matter to reconcile concerning the considerable surface population on or near the Martian surface. Thousands of unsuspecting colonists and rebels alike would be thrust into a desperate race for survival. The ENC was masterfully eliminating a severe threat to its political and economic dominance on the planet Mars.

Graves could not help but to feel somewhat impressed by ENC’s elaborate plan to reconfigure the Solar System. True, the new worlds might help alleviate many of the staggering problems that faced over-populated Earth. Still, who was to say that the same problems might not just move to all three?

Simply stated, too many people upon the planet Earth was the root of the original problem. Nonetheless, Colonel Graves believed that the problem of the human equation had to be solved first on Earth.

The forces which the ENC planned to manipulate were not mere children’s toy tops...they were ancient heavenly bodies that had been locked within their orbits for billions of years.

“What effect would human tampering have on the macro level of the Solar System?” he asked himself aloud. All the planets and their moons were subject to galactic laws that were still not completely understood.

Graves’ mind raced. In a molecular comparison, if one were to bump an electron out of orbit, it would change the composition of the entire molecule. Would the composition of the Solar System be radically affected by swapping moons and planets?

Graves fought within himself to rationalize the new directives of project DO against the premonitions of Morti Martinez. Clearly, he had been given strict orders by his superior officer. The new directive was his, and his alone to bear. The voice of the ENC commentator brought his mind back to the hologram transmission.

“Once Ganymede and its moons are established, you must retrieve your iron-nickel ore barges from Phobos,” stated the raspy voice of the white-collar youth.

“Your fleet will then repel a number of the ore ingots like cannon balls at Ganymede to speed up its warming process. At the same time, you must strike the Earth and Europa at a few crucial sites to stabilize them in accordance to their new unadjusted orbits.”

Graves sucked in air between his teeth and almost choked on cigar smoke. The Euro-Nation Confederate was planning to take care of all their problems in one-fell-swoop.

No doubt, all the problem areas on Earth that were causing most of the anti-ENC resistance would be mercilessly eliminated. Billions of unsuspecting people would die, thought Graves to himself with a shudder.

“So much for the Earth’s over-population problem. They do not have a clue what doors of hell they are unlocking with all this,” whispered the Colonel to himself.

“Your Earth targets will be specified to you once you are in place to deliver the ingots. Most of the remaining ore barges will be needed within the core of Europa to ensure it has enough gravity to hold it’s new atmosphere,” spoke the crew-cut brat matter-of-factly.

“Damn,” whispered Graves to himself once more as the hologram message ended.

What havoc would just one 200-giga-ton ingot of densely refined iron-nickel wreak on Earth’s delicate ecosystem? He stared dumbfounded at the ice in his glass trying to fathom an answer.

He came to grips with the horrible truth of his late military career. He imagined that if he carried out his orders he would be infamously remembered in the history books as the Grim Reaper or the Mad Bombardier.

Once again, human technology was to be used and then abused. Not for its original intentions, but for the dark purposes of a powerful man’s political and economical agenda. Had Graves understood eight years before what would happen on this day, he would have never accepted the command of the Spectrum Fleet.

He shook his head in disgust. Indeed, the creation of the Spectrum Fleet itself had to have been just another step in the ENC’s long range goals that probably began even before the conception of anti-gravity propulsion.

“My God,” Graves exclaimed in abject horror.

“I cannot allow this,” he said methodically while mouthing the words in slow motion.

He pressed the com-link on his wrist band and cleared his throat.

“Attention. All fleet senior officers report to the Blue Moon’s commencement auditorium for an immediate briefing. This is not a drill. Prepare your crews and ships for immediate departure from Navajo after the briefing. Commander Graves out.”

“I must talk to Morti first,” he muttered to himself while retrieving his quarter’s security disk file and heading straight to the ship’s elevators. He would have to travel down to the penal quarters to find Morti. She alone would understand the gravity of the situation.

His entire crew would have to be briefed to understand his inevitable course of action. He would be asking them to rebel against ENC directives. He wondered just how many would choose to follow him.

Paul Diamond, Mayer of the inner-moon city of Globus, lounged in his chair like a big cat. He opened the ancient hand-painted black-alabaster canaster on his desk and took out a caramel candy which he lazily tossed into his mouth. The cannister had been given to him by family tribe members from the Aluetian Islands of the Berring Strait.

He cupped his hands behind his head and put his feet up while chewing the tasty treat with his eyes closed. He was quite pleased with the latest turn of events. Never in his wildest imaginations had he anticipated Senate Leader Pavlovic would call upon him to use his power and authority on the Martian moon, Phobos, to help initiate a new ENC directive.

The Senate Leader had just given him the absolute authority he would need to convince Navajo Space Port Comander, Major Kevin Blanchard, and Lewis One Director, Dr. Lisa Holloway, to follow his orders unconditionally. For the first time in many years, there would be no power struggle between the leaders of the biosphere, the space port, and the inner-moon metropolis.

Pavlovic had merely extended the Globus Mayor’s jurisdiction to that of ENC Magistrate over the entire moon of Phobos. Diamond had been secretly ordered to take Phobus out of orbit around Mars once the Spectrum Fleet’s ore barges were dry-docked and they had departed. Diamond had never seriously considered Phobos’ ability to leave the planet Mars under its own power as something to be desired--but now he found the possibility absolutely intriguing.

He realized that the Senate Leader must have had a very good reason to suddenly offer him such an unprecedented promotion. Still, he didn’t feel particularly concerned about the turn of events which had led to his good fortune. No doubt, the new title would also come with more responsabilities, but he welcomed the new lime-light that might relaunch his political carreer.

Diamond looked out through the windows of his high cavern office complex. The main cavity of the inner-moon metropolis of Globus lay exposed before him. The refrigerated, reinforced outer walls of the city kept the mainly ice and rock composition of the Phobos moon around it from eroding.

The symetrically architected cavity was backlit with solar-powered light panels that ran along the arched ceiling and floor which made it look like the interior hull of a massive air ship. The evenly spaced gates and passageways that led out of the self-contained main complex were sealable in the unlikely event that Globus was forced to isolate itself in case of emergency.

Diamond swiveled in his chair slightly so he could better see the habitations and work complexes which were spaced along the perfect network of vertical and horizontal roads and pathways. His citizens moved about completely unaware of the evenets that were about to reshape the very fabric of their lives.

He would lead Phobos on her new destiny. The Lewis One Biosphere would continue to provide all the fresh air and vegetables the population would need, while the Navajo Space Port would provide all the transportation and docking needs for ENC supply ships. Globus would supply him with all the personnel that would be needed to do whatever the Senate Leader commanded him to do.

The huge solar power complexes along the moon’s outer surface would supply all three with all the power they could possibly use. Phobos would become a massive carrier ship 28-miles-long by 23-miles-wide by 20-miles-thick, which would be mobilized by the great anti-gravity propulsion generators strategically built deep within the bowels of the moon.

Those generators would keep the moon spirraling perfectly to maintain the exact gravity needed to properly sustain its inhabitants. The possibilities were endless, thought Diamond to himself. Who could know for sure? Perhaps, he might even have the Spectrum Fleet to launch from his moon-carrier one day.

Morti Martinez lay sleeping in her bunk in the penal quarters of the Blue Moon. She had tossed and turned for most of her allotted sleep time troubled by recurring dreams that left her weak and trembling when she awoke.

Her mother’s Mayan blood-line genetically passed down to her included the often troublesome ability to dream visions of an enormous scale. She always felt utterly confused and completely helpless to decifer the absolute meanings of those mysterious visions. She considered them to be more a curse than a gift and often prayed to be freed from their relentless grip upon her.

Her last dream had been the worst yet. She witnessed the planet Earth on fire from a great distance. The strikingly blue planet had turned fiery red comingled with towering plumes of billowing ashes from catastrophic volcanic explosions. Blood-curdling death screams of billions of life forms flooded her mind as she hopelessy watched the destruction of the Solar System’s only inhabitable world. She cried uncontrollably, helpless to aid even one of those poor tormented souls.

“The powers of Earth, Wind, Fire and Water are in turmoil,” spoke the spirit-voice in her mind.

“The four pillars of the four corners of Earth are toppling,” echoed the vision’s eery voice as she hopelessly tried to turn her eyes away from the impending demise of her home world.

She awoke soaked in sweat and her eyes red from tears. She had gotten up to stare long into her troubled deep brown eyes in the mirror and then splashed her long jet-black hair, face and neck with cold water in the meager rations of the cubicle’s water basin. She longed for another long sweat bath in the steaming hot tubs within the inner-moon metropolis of Globus.

Bathing water had been such a rare commodity during her eight-year penal exile on the Blue Moon. The ENC magistrate in Panama City had exhiled her as a deep-space penal worker because she had been captured while living as a vagabond on the streets of the Panama capital.

The death of both her parents had left her an orphan at the age of fourteen. She had done everything she could to survive her next two years in the Central American country of her birth. At sixteen, she had been captured by night police and had been extracated from Earth as an undesirable citizen. Such a sentance meant ten years of servitude as a penal worker on the edge of the space colonies because of the over-crowded prisons and the general over-population problem.

Her life had dramatically changed over the past half-Earth-year because of the attention of Colonel Robert Graves. The two of them had found themselves impossibly thrust together despite age difference and social status. Robert had at first tried to push himself away from her, but she had dreamed that he was the only soul mate that would ever come into her life.

He had somehow been able to guide her into the light of the truth of her visions. He had made sense out of the maddening galactic visions that made her feel so insignificatly small and useless. When she was with him, all her troubles vanished and she was swept with comforting tides of inner peace. No one else had ever made her feel that way.

Morti pulled her wet black hair into a pony-tail and laid back down on her bunk. She hummed a Mayan folk-song and tried to relax her tense muscles. Her cube mates were already off to work somewhere in the propulsion complex realigning electromagnetic couplings that were needed to keep the vessel in stabilized gravitational orbit while invisbly tethered to the Navajo Space Port. She would have to report to work in just one more Earth-hour.

Morti jumped two full inches off her bunk when the door chime startled her. Her heart raced as she hoped it would be Robert. She sprang to her bare feet hoping that the unexpected visitor would be Robert.

She peeked at the small security screen beside the door and then quickly released the door sensor and lunged into Colonel Graves’ arms without a shred of concern for anyone who might have been watching.

“I’m so glad you came to see me. I just had another vision,” whispered Morti while looking up into Robert’s searching eyes.

“I’m not surprised, girl. I’ve just seen a vision too, and I don’t like what I saw,” said Graves as he pushed her gently into her cubicle and allowed the silent door to close.

“Are you still worried about being seen here with me? The whole penal crew knows, so why should we hide how we feel about each other?” she added.

“No, I don’t care what they think anymore, but I don’t want them to over-hear what I’m about to tell you,” he said while massaging her tense shoulders and neck.

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