Not Without Incident

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Which is true. In fact, you can't really hear dick-all in space. Not only due to the vacuum part but also because there isn't anything to make any noise. It's quiet as shit out here. Pardon my language, but I've been out here a long time, floating aimlessly by myself, and it's starting to wear on me. It's not supposed to be aimless, of course, and maybe the lads who shot me out here actually do have a trajectory programmed into this supersized CT scanner, but it feels aimless. I mean, there's no up or down or left or right in space, right? It's just...space, empty bloody space, and my official review of space so far is that it's rubbish.

But let's back up a bit, shall we? That part about nobody being able to hear you scream, well, that is true if you're out in space, but if you're inside a giant CT scanner tube like the one I'm knocking my head into a thousand times a day that just happens to be hurtling through space and predicated on there being at least one other set of ears in said tube, technically, the sound of your screaming would be heard by a body. I can say that unequivocally. Anyone on earth who might be listening in, would hear your scream as well but only long after the bout of screaming in question had passed and presumably been replaced by a new round of manic screaming. There’s a lot of screaming in space.

Alas, none of that explains why I'm actually out here in the first place and for that, we need to back up to the eventful year of 1990 when one Brandal Rogers, that being me, took his first breath of real air. Now, you're probably wondering if I'm putting you on a bit, starting the story from when I was a newborn and that I will eventually admit that I am putting you on and fast forward to what you believe to be a more relevant time, chronologically speaking. But I'm the one telling the story and believe it or not, my birth was special, so we’re starting there and bollocks to you if you don’t like it.

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Not long after the Space Shuttle Challenger blew up upon take off in 1986, a group calling themselves the Progenitors, consisting of rogue scientists, funded by members of a clandestine group of hyper-rich inventors and industrialists whose portfolios stretch so far back, their ancestors probably had interests in the fruit market in the Garden of Eden, started a multi-phase completely autonomous space exploration program parallel to those created by the world’s governments. The purpose of the program was the eventual commercialization of space. But not just space travel, these blokes wanted to monopolize every resource our solar system, and possibly beyond, had to offer.

One of the phases of this program, and the one that resulted in yours truly, was a genetic manipulation scheme designed to create smarter, hardier human beings, more capable of adapting to and surviving the harsh conditions of space travel and exploration. Apparently, after pouring thousands of hours of research and trillions of dollars into the program, the best they achieved was me. By their own admission, the experiment, i.e., me, was mostly a failure and let's be honest, I wasn't exactly Khan from Star Trek.

They didn’t tell me any of this until I was already millions of miles away from earth when an automated message containing the entire history of the program started playing on every monitor in the ship. I won’t recount the whole message but the gist is, that regardless of what I’d been told up to that point, I wasn’t special and wasn’t in anyway better qualified to be hurtling through the vastness of space in a trillion dollar rocket ship, than a monkey that possibly had brain damage, likely from falling out of a tree. In fact, had they full confidence in the ship they’d built, they would have sent literally anybody else to fly it.

That was a lot, I have to admit. With that depressing information floating around with me in what apparently might not be the safest ride in the galaxy, I was a little more on edge than usual. So, when the gigantic space ship suddenly appeared in the view port directly above me, someone in space very well might have heard me scream.

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A bright light, not unlike the tiny sun dentists like to blind you with so you can’t see the horrors they’re shoving into your pried apart jaws , was the first thing to greet me when I awoke on the alien spacecraft. A voice like a gentle ocean tide rolling over rocks rounded by centuries of waves, was the second.

“Ahh, you’ve awakened, Mr. Brandal Rogers, Captain and sole crew member of the R.E.D. Dauntless. We were quite worried we’d startled you to death—your Terran physiology being so alien to us. Before you begin asking what I’m sure are many relevant and understandable questions, let me answer at least one of them first. You are able to understand me, and I, in turn, you, by way of two tiny and non-invasive translator patches placed behind each ear. In fact, you might be interested to know that our languages are not that dissimilar. We were, both of our species, created from the same cosmic material and likely by the same creator, after all. And to answer another likely question, we know your name and language and a great deal more from your ship’s own encrypted programs. They are impressive, no doubt, for such a primitive species, but posed little trouble for our de-encryption protocols. I also must add that we mean you no harm, Mr. Rogers, and that my name is Heloch, Captain of the Prosaica, flag ship of the Centaurian Imperium.”

“Ok,” I said. The first word uttered by homo sapiens to the representative of an advanced alien civilization, was “Ok”. To be fair, I could only go up from there.

“I almost forgot,” Heloch said. “I have a glass of water for you. Another thing our peoples have in common.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking the glass from the surprisingly recognizable hand belonging to Heloch. When I’d gotten a proper look at the man, woman, being, I noticed that we shared a lot of common features and mostly they were in the same general layout as our own. In fact, with a hat and sunglasses, Heloch could’ve easily passed as a human had we been on Earth. “You wouldn’t happen to have any whiskey, would you? I drank all mine about 10,000 miles ago.”

“Not whiskey,” he said, “but we do have something similar. Though, I’m sure we could synthesize a drink based on the ingredient labels we found on the bottles strewn about your ship but it could take a lot of trial and error.”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll try whatever you have,” I said.

“Come with me, then, Mr. Rogers, we will have drinks on the viewing deck,” Heloch said.

The viewing deck was massive. The size of an aircraft carrier, at least. There were bar style tables scattered throughout along with booths and waiter stations. It appeared that under different circumstances it was likely a restaurant like we’d find on a cruise ship back home. A waiter of a different species than Heloch but still quite humanoid and dressed formally in a white tux, brought out a carafe filled with a shimmering blue liquid, along with two glasses and a plate of what looked to be potato chips. He neatly poured the drink over ice and a slight wisp of fog, like from a dry ice machine, floated off it. I reached for it cautiously and took a small sip.

“Holy hell, that’s a strong drink,” I coughed out.

“I’m sorry, would you prefer something…”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” I interjected.

“Ahh, well, good,” he said proudly. “I must say, I’ve been surprised at how similar our races are in so many things. Food, drink, language. There is one particular word, however, we kept hearing in your recorded video diary that I’m afraid we were unable to translate. Given it’s seemingly limitless applications we thought we should learn its meaning. The word, and forgive my pronunciation, is “fooking. ”

I laughed out loud. Heloch tilted his head in a questioning look but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s a swear,” I answered. “ A curse word that is widely used on my planet, especially in Quentin Tarantino movies. It’s not that important, in reality.”

Heloch started laughing with me.

“You would find the effort we spent trying to uncover the meaning of that word amusing, I am sure. I must say, we’ve met a lot of different races throughout the galaxy, but yours is the first we’ve encountered that wasn’t capable of interstellar flight and to have so much in common is very exciting for us.”

“It’s exciting for me, also. I apologize if I’ve seemed out of sorts. It’s been a very long trip and this is all a little overwhelming for me.”

“No apologies are necessary. Were I in your shoes, I’d probably react the same way. From your ship’s files, it didn’t seem that meeting alien cultures was part of the mission parameters.”

“Honestly, I don’t even know what the mission parameters are,” I admitted. “You must have discovered from the files that I’m a failed experiment and basically just acting as a guinea pig.”

“Well, about that, I have some information you might find interesting,” Heloch said.

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When he began recounting what they’d learned from me and my ship, I became apoplectic with rage but after a few more swigs of the blue alcohol, the pounding in my brain from the rush of blood subsided enough I could focus on what he was telling me.

“Obviously, for our safety, though we could tell immediately that it was lightyears behind our own technology, we performed a full scan of your ship to ascertain any offensive capabilities, or malevolent intentions. Once completed, we did the same on you to ensure you weren’t harboring any microorganisms dangerous to our kind.”

“Understandable. We would’ve done the same,” I said reasonably but still somewhat put out.

“Yes. So, the scan of your ship uncovered files that were encrypted even from you. As far as we can tell, they’re copies of research and financial dealings.”

He brought up a screen on the table at which we were sitting and showed the files they’d found. I could tell, even in my mentally clouded state, that they were indeed research files and shady business dealings. The fact they were so heavily encrypted meant they were never meant to be seen. My ship, my entire purpose for being out here was an evidence dump. Those ponces sent me out here to die to cover up their failed illegal genetic experiments and money laundering.

“Those rat bastards,” I swore and slammed my fist down on the table and took another swig of the blue drink. "What do you call this anyway," I said loudly.

"It is called guyver," he answered.

"Give me another, please," I said to the waiter. Heloch nodded to the waiter to comply.

“I’m sorry, Brandal,” Heloch said. “I know that wasn’t what you were wanting to hear. But there’s more.”

I swayed unsteadily in my seat, the blue drink starting to affect me. I wasn’t sure I could take many more surprises but I encouraged Heloch to continue. He waved his hand to the humanoid waiter standing discreetly in the corner and he quickly rushed over with a carafe of ice water. Heloch motioned for me to drink before continuing.

“As I said earlier, we also ran a full array of diagnostic scans on you. I hope it comforts you some to know that you weren’t a failed experiment. The terran scientists that performed the genetic engineering on you were impressively competent. They failed only to make a single connection in one seemingly extraneous recombinant strand. Had they made this connection, it would have activated the entire recombinant genome, unlocking the full potential of the changes they were attempting. With your permission, we would repair the flaw in your genetic structure and complete the bioengineering template. I do not know what the results might be, there is a chance that since you’re a grown man, there won’t be any significant change. It is an archaic science in the Imperium as we long ago engineered our respective races to the near peak of existential possibility. So, our scientists are very excited to perform an operation that hasn’t been done for thousands of years in our part of the galaxy.”

“I’m glad I could be such an entertaining lab rat,” I said sardonically.

“As I said, it’s entirely your decision whether or not we proceed,” he said.

“Fook it,” I said. “Let’s do it."

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To call what Heloch’s scientists performed on me, a procedure, at least compared to what the experience would entail on Earth, would be to vastly understate the precision and expertise in what they did. They placed a glass plate holding a collection of my cells into a large, featureless, and completely smooth tube they called a Quantum phase scanner. Using quantum phasing they bombarded the strip of my cells to create an enlarged 3D rendering of their genetic makeup. Once they’d discerned where the gap in my genome was, they utilized microscopic tools to close the gap and even smaller lasers to bind the pieces. They then reinserted the cross section of my cells back into my body with a microinjector and had me lie down in a different tube. There, they dosed me in an alien radiation designed to spur cellular regeneration causing the engineered segment of cells to multiply until they’d replaced the damaged cell structures. It all took less than a half hour.

Heloch placed a large, long fingered hand on my shoulder and gave me a concerned look.

“How do you feel,” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel any different, really,” I replied.

“Well, give it time. The process, if it worked, should take effect momentarily,” he said. “Though, I do not know in what form.”

“That’s an encouraging thought,” I said slightly peevishly.

“I don’t believe it will be detrimental in any case,” he said calmly and I felt calmed. I think Heloch and his people might have subtle mental abilities tied with their speech or he was just speaking from thousands of years of experience and patience that I did not possess.

He helped me down from the tube and handed me another glass of water. Heloch was constantly making sure I was hydrated. It was a little disconcerting that an alien I’d only known a few hours was treating me more considerately than the fake parents and doctors in my life on Earth ever had. I wasn’t missing home, especially after learning that I was sent out to die alone in the dark. After walking a few feet, I collapsed onto the floor in an agony I had no words for. It was a blaring, pulsating pain emanating from the center of my head. I squeezed my temples hoping to keep it from blowing apart and then, it was gone and I felt almost euphoric and was sure that I was dead.

Powerful arms lifted me from the floor as though I were weightless and of course I would have been if not for the artificial gravity created by the Prosaica’s fusion generator. I could stand, so I did and the arms let go of me cautiously.

“I believe it worked,” said Heloch in that fluid voice of his that reminded me of Ian Mckellan’s Gandalf.

“Yeah,” I said holding my arms out to balance myself. I kept my eyes shut until the spinning behind them stopped and as I slowly opened them it was like it was for the first time. Suddenly, colors and details I hadn’t noticed before rushed into my vision and almost caused the feeling of vertigo to sweep over me once again but then it was righted and I realized what had happened.

The pain I felt in head was from my brain changing. The vertigo I felt when I opened my eyes was the processing of a part of the color spectrum humans were not meant to see. And with all of those new sensations, it took my brain only a split second to adjust to its new mode of calculating and extrapolating information. It had become a quantum computer compared to it previous functionality. I looked at Heloch and with my new eyes saw just how different he was in superficial ways but how utterly similar he was in functional and physiological ways. He nodded at me to show he also understood what had happened. And then his face broke into a huge smile and he hugged me. He was welcoming me into a special fraternity that he and his fellow ancient races occupied. We were all beings that understood the universe in ways that those who had not seen as much of it could not. In his eyes, I had ascended.

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I spent the next several weeks devouring everything I could from their libraries—a massive depository of the accumulated knowledge of thousands of cultures, most older than our entire planet. There was much of it I didn’t understand, I was only human, after all, and the smartest human still had centuries of gaps in their learning compared to a janitor in the Imperium but there was much I did and it was beautiful. I learned how using cold fusion, one could create warp generators that would allow for superluminal travel. There were multiple ways of growing food efficiently in nearly every type of environment and cheaply and effectively desalinizing water which would allow us to make use of the oceans on Earth to supply the world with clean drinking water and hundreds of other ways to improve our world and advance its station in the galaxy. What I learned was revolutionary and would advance the human race thousands of years overnight.

Yet, the Imperium members weren’t always perfect beings and their histories often included the same violence as ours, though because of their technology, on exponentially larger scales, but for the most part, they’d learned to live and grow together, achieving things of which we haven’t even yet dreamed.

Most of the information was science and technology based as I had expected but a surprisingly large swath was anthropological in nature. It was these studies I found the most intriguing. The Imperium started out as a heavy-handed organization but in later centuries had contented itself with letting the worlds and their inhabitants in their jurisdiction develop at their own pace. While they kept a mostly hands-off approach, they did protect those fledgling worlds from unnatural threats which seemed to be few and were usually made up of other younger races. Even when they deemed a world technologically advanced enough to be considered for inclusion in the Imperium, they let it decide for itself if it wanted to join. It was a mostly harmonious system.

The Prosaica was the flag-ship of the Imperium but also acted as an ambassador as the group sought out new worlds to assess for possible induction. It was on one of these emissarial delegations when they ran into my ship, The Dauntless.

After several weeks of leaving me mostly to my own devices, Heloch finally came to invite me to dinner and to see how I was coming in my studies.

“It’s incredible,” I exclaimed. “I’ve learned so much that could help my people. The knowledge I’ve gained about interstellar travel alone will revolutionize my entire species. Before you repaired my flaw, I was excited about staying here and traveling the galaxy and beyond with you, but I see now that I can’t.”

“Why is that, Brandal Rogers,” Heloch asked.

“Because I owe it to the people on Earth who are suffering and dying for no reason but greed and indifference. I learned from a popular comic book hero that if I can help, it’s my responsibility to do so.”

“I see. I will be sad to see you leave but I do understand. Please, allow us to outfit your ship so that the return voyage will be quicker and more comfortable. It will only take a few days as you reckon them.”

“Thank you, Heloch,” I said. “I will miss you and I will never be able to repay you for your kindness and generosity.”

“You will never need to, my friend,” he said looking somewhat crestfallen which I attributed to him merely losing a new friend.

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The day I was scheduled to leave was frenetic. Heloch’s people were putting the finishing touches on my ship to prepare it for near light speed travel. I was getting a crash course in operating and, if needed, repairing the warp generator and new shielding they installed. In theory, through my studies of their technical library, I understood the concepts of the advanced technology but marrying it to the primitive equipment in my ship altered the operational parameters. Frankly, even though I’d seen the technology in pictures and real life but much larger versions on the Prosaica, I still barely recognized what they were adding to my ship.

“I’m afraid that short of an entirely new ship, near luminal is as fast as we can outfit your ship to travel,” Helcoh explained. “Anything beyond that and it would tear apart from the gravity well created by the warp generator. I'm also including a crate of guyver from my own stash to help pass the time on your journey home.”

I almost hugged him. “Thank you, Heloch. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I almost wish I was staying.”

“Then stay,” he said quickly. “You will be treated like an honored citizen of the Imperium for as long as you remain with us.”

“Heloch,” I said placing my hand on his shoulder. The effect was somewhat comical considering how much taller he was than I. “My planet needs me. They’ve been lost for so long and I can finally bring them toward the light. Who knows, maybe someday we’ll be worthy of the Imperium, ourselves.”

“I wish for that, my friend,” he said defeatedly. “I truly do. Come, let us have one last meal and drink together before you leave.”

“Fook, yeah,” I said and our laughter, for a moment, caused the work around us to cease. But only for a moment.

“Of all you have given us in your time here, fook, might be my favorite,” Heloch said jokingly and slapped my back so hard it almost knocked me down.

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We sat at dinner telling stories from our home worlds and laughing at how similar are the lives of all peoples regardless of where they’re from. I would miss Heloch and his crew a great deal. My desire to stay and see the universe was fighting with my obligation to help those on Earth who couldn’t help themselves.

“Will I live longer with what you’ve done to my genetic code,” I asked.

“If you stayed with us, yes,” he replied. “But there are many variables on your Earth that I cannot account for and so cannot give a reliable answer.”

As I was pondering that, the waiter came to our table and cleared his throat. “Mr. Rogers’ ship is ready, sirs,” he said.

Heloch and I shared a look of understanding that was mixed with more than a little sadness. We both stood and I held out my hand to the waiter who didn’t know what to do at first, but a quick glance at Heloch for approval and he held out his hand and we shook.

“I guess this is it, then, my friend,” I said to Heloch.

“Yes, it is time,” he replied.

We strode together to the launch bay, me trying to hide the effort it took to match the larger man’s strides. Half the crew had come out to see me off and those I’d gotten to know as friends, gathered around to say their goodbyes.

For likely the last time, I took Heloch’s hand in mine and started to shake when I was pulled firmly into an embrace. Had he been able to, I believe he would’ve had tears in his eyes, or maybe I was just looking through my own.

“Be well,” he said. “You have been given great gifts and have given much in return. It was an honor to have called you friend.”

“Goodbye, Heloch,” I choked out. “The honor has been mine.”

I turned to walk into my barely recognizable ship and stopped at the hatchway and gave the salute common to Heloch’s crew and then waved as the door cut them off from view. I sat down in the pilot’s seat, the only seat in the ship, and took a big swig from a glass of guyver the crew had prepared for me. The ice barely tinkled in the glass as I was shot out of the airlock and into open space. I pushed a button, newly installed and the warp generator fired up. I was 500 billion miles from Earth. I’d be there in less than a week.

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As the ship passed our sun, I was roused from sleep by an alarm buzzing on the main console. I pressed a blinking light and an image of Heloch came into view on the HUD.

“Hello, my friend. By now you should be on the final leg of your journey and too close to your destination to alter course. I wish you had stayed with us on the Prosaica, Brandal. When the Imperium High Council learned of your intention to return home, taking with you all of the knowledge gleaned during your time here, they made the decision to cast a final arbitration on your home planet concerning its merit for future consideration for induction into the Imperium. Their decision, is that Earth is populated by a violent, primitive people, unprepared and undeserving of the technological advancements that would be brought forth with the information you carry. As such, you and your people have been selected for termination. The warp generator we installed in your ship will reach superluminal capacity as you near Earth. The resulting gravitational field it produces will essentially create a black hole into which you and your entire planet will be pulled. Once that happens, the generator will detonate with the force of a supernova, obliterating everything inside the singularity. Your species will be wiped from existence. I am truly sorry, my friend. I ask for your forgiveness even as I know you could never give it. Goodbye, Captain Brandal Rogers.”

“Well, fook,” I said. There was nothing else I could do. I could hear the generator firing up and could feel the pressure building as it warped time and space around the ship. Then, there was nothing but a light brighter than any star I’d ever seen and then there was nothing at all.

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