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Failure of Eden by Aaron Baker Cole
Monday, December 14, 2020
Rated "G" by the Author.
Humanity has overpopulated earth and now reaches out to infect another world. Will it be permitted to do so?
Failure of Eden
By Aaron Baker Cole
1
Evolving over eons from sentient mass-based beings, the nebula entities transitioned through accelerated phases, ultimately arriving at a final construct of diffuse volumes of energy. After an undocumented point in their transformation their numbers neither increased nor fell—the entities had become immortal. Their transition from physicality imbued them with two features that would support them through eternity; a powerful form of telekinesis and the ability to transport by thought.
Entity TauBeta had returned to the home nebula, as he knew eventually he would. He could no longer ignore the knowledge of his failure and the pain and suffering for which he was responsible. Though TauBeta knew full well the possibility to be remote, he hoped the collective wisdom of the Tau could conjure a solution to the chaos he had created. Engulfed in the mad swirl of energy which was not only home to his kind, but the birthplace of stars jostling among themselves for positions in a new galaxy, TauBeta awaited his long anticipated intellectual exchange.
Images from the past swept through TauBeta as he passed time in the nebula he left so long ago, although time as a subjective parameter had faded in its meaning. Settling upon a frame of reference he concentrated on the issue he considered to be the most likely subject of his upcoming critical historical review.
Each member of the Tau accepted the responsibility to search an assigned galaxy for worlds upon which sentient beings had evolved. Once identified, a deep examination of a sentient group would be performed. Selections would be made of candidates that required only a minimum degree of guidance to become a contributory component of an integrated galactic community. Lost to the ages was any remnant of reason connecting this protocol to a degree of rationality – but the protocol was deeply flawed.
TauBeta had discovered a planet-bound species of hominid that gave evidence of having stalled out in its evolutionary struggle. Though clearly having progressed through stages of consciousness, awareness, self-awareness and some degree of sentience, this muddled pyramid led only to a cul-de-sac of fire, but no wheel. The end of the road had been trampled into a rutted terrain that only grew deeper as epochs stretched into eons.
TauBeta knew full well that discoveries of sentient beings were in general to be left undisturbed and allowed to determine their own evolutionary pathway. However, this was his initial confrontation with a life form that fell broadly into the category he was assigned to observe and investigate. Armed with that yet unseasoned understanding, TauBeta considered the race he had discovered deserved a boost to overcome its stalled out condition. He would make what he considered to be one small change, after which he would allow the boosted evolution to survive or fail. He would strongly avoid any further interference.
TauBeta had found other sentient hominid life forms to be present in his assigned galaxy, and he decided to gather ten male specimens and transport them to the planet hosting his currently stumbling race. His hope was for the two hominid races to interbreed and produce a hybrid that would proceed from fire to wheel and beyond. TauBeta realized the extremely low probability of his effort being successful in jumpstarting a redirected genome. But since his effort was marginally discouraged by the Tau in any case, failure was an acceptable option. Even now, as he waited to sense another presence in his home nebula, the decision he made eons ago seemed logical. His error, as he now understood it, was that he had not spent enough time to deeply analyze the results of his experiment in evolutionary meddling.
TauBeta’s delinquent analysis abruptly ended as the anticipated presence invaded his consciousness.
Only another member of the Tau would have been able to interpret the conversation that ensued, but there were none present at this unique conference. Short, ultra-high frequency bursts of electromagnetic energy gave the only evidence of an ongoing discourse.
“I’m certain you understand the reason behind this meeting, TauBeta. The race of beings you selected to monitor has deviated greatly from any permissible life vector. Aggravating the situation even further they have been allowed to expand their numbers beyond any reasonable way to stop the experiment short of annihilation. And given our resources and individual limitations, annihilation is beyond our reach.”
TauBeta’s lack of response led his companion to suspect an incomplete grasp of the issue at hand.
“Let me explain in detail,” began his companion’s expansion.
Impatiently, TauBeta interrupted. “The species exhibits an overall average avarice-to-empathy ratio that is far too high, and has remained high well into the period of expected self destruction.”
Continuing, TauBeta added, “Had I not been so hopeful of a reduction in the ratio I would have discontinued the experiment when annihilation was feasible.”
TauBeta quickly added, “I confess that at least a fraction of my delay was brought about through my injection of a corrupted process into the experiment. My prediction was that continued evolution would neutralize the matter.”
There followed a period of silence that seemed interminable to TauBeta. Finally the local space was filled with his companion’s response.
“The Tau are left without recourse to other remedies, TauBeta. The unacceptable life vector initiated by you is left for you to correct. Hopefully, since you have proven willing to incorporate questionable methods in the past, you will find a dark art that will resolve your current dilemma.
“One more thing, TauBeta. While the concept of a deity is expected to originate during the societal evolution of a new sentient species, your earth species have gone to extremes and have created multiple god-concepts. Beyond that, the religions founded upon these deities make vicious war on each other, often based upon a simple difference in ways of worshiping the same deity. It is difficult to understand such an occurrence, unless you revealed yourself to various factions of the society, or otherwise made your existence known to them.”
It was clear to TauBeta that although a formal question had not been posed, a response was expected. It was time to admit he had marginally violated another proscribed methodology, a restriction that was intended to minimize the proliferation of religions and the unavoidable struggle to achieve the closest relationship to one’s creator.
“I never appeared to any faction directly,” TauBeta began his response. “However, the species resulting from my attempt to restart a stalled evolution exhibited a strong tendency toward violence for almost no reason. There were a limited number of times when I injected into a few minds of apparent leaders a subtle suggestion of redirection. However, the occurrence of schizophrenia among all races seems to be above average in the beings I helped create. Obviously one or more of the minds I treated were affected by this condition, and my treatment was thereby amplified and distorted into an assumption that it emanated from a creator.”
“Your attempt at redirection is understandable and marginally within the norms of Tau protocol,” responded his companion. However, the members of your created species have not led themselves to self-annihilation, as would be expected considering their development of nuclear weapons. And there is yet one more additional matter.”
TauBeta had not monitored his subjects continuously and was apprehensive of what may have occurred in his absence.
“A particularly advanced segment of your subjects is working diligently to produce a starship”, his companion continued. “Responding to conditions of resource reduction and overpopulation, they intend to transfer a small colony of their number to an earth-like planet they have observed in a system near them in their galaxy. It will take many of their lifetimes to arrive, of course, but they have incorporated a hibernating component into their plan, and the plan appears feasible. As you well know, the contaminated species you’ve created cannot be permitted to spread their kind beyond their home system. The matter is left to you, TauBeta.”
The conversation with his companion had ended, and TauBeta was left unanchored, adrift in a universe containing a great flaw of his own making. If there was a solution, he must find it. Never in history had the Tau allowed a corrupted life vector to advance and produce totally unpredictable injustices through contact with other life forms. As this thought settled into TauBeta’s memory, he filed it away for ready reference. The possibility of his species contacting any other must be avoided at all cost. TauBeta formulated in his mind an image of earth, and almost instantly, he was there.
TauBeta realized his greatest error was improperly monitoring his species’ avarice-to-empathy ratio and the rate at which it was increasing over time. All sentient species possessed this ratio, but to evolve into a stable society of organisms without destroying themselves, the aggregate ratio must not evolve unbounded. Such was not the case with TauBeta’s subject species. If he had not allowed hope to override his otherwise innate gift of objectivity, he would have observed his hominid going astray in time to initiate annihilation, as disgusting and exhausting as that might have been.
2
Searching for the spacefaring activity of which he had been informed, TauBeta was surprised to find the activity to be focused on the far side of the planet from where he had originally boosted the hominid species’ progress. While he was puzzled over what might have inspired the spatial transition, he realized that uncovering the reason was not a profitable pursuit and he promptly transitioned to another. TauBeta intended to determine just how dangerous it would be to permit a selected group of specimens to transfer within his subject galaxy.
If the avarice-to-empathy ratio of all selected colony participants were within acceptable bounds, perhaps drastic measures would not be unnecessary. Even as he considered this possibility TauBeta felt his degree of hope overshadowing what he considered a rational outcome. Still, he was largely a creature of his own making and would proceed accordingly.
TauBeta located the spaceport in a desert region of a large continent in the planet’s northern hemisphere. The enterprise was spread over a large and questionably organized expanse, he thought. But he reminded himself not to compare advancements between species. Such comparisons could be a fool’s errand. Resources, geography, subspecies differences...and yes, he noted, religious differences could all play into how a scientific enterprise would evolve.
Moving rapidly through the various structures laid out before him, TauBeta isolated a large enclosure that appeared to serve only as a gathering place. Presumably, the specimens who had been selected for the intended intersystem odyssey would assemble there from time to time to receive instructions and information. TauBeta had only to wait for the next assembly and then identify and investigate the individuals.
An item that had not required discussion between TauBeta and his companion was the acceptable evolutionary endpoint of a species such as TauBeta had created. Left isolated to its own planet such a species would eventually self-destruct either by accident or from aggressive tendencies. The planet would then be free to evolve a different dominant life form. Thus it had always been. TauBeta knew that his was not the first intervention to result in the a/e ratio of a species evolving beyond a point where annihilation was practical. If mutual destruction failed to occur, the associated monitor could always direct an alternate path, a bottleneck through which the species could not proceed. Their off-planet escape plan was TauBeta’s species’ bottleneck. If bringing about a massive failure of the starship system became impractical, at least the annihilation process would be a reasonably bounded effort. As evolved as the Tau had become, they were not omnipotent. Annihilation was a one-at-a-time process. While a planet-wide population was impossible to annihilate one at a time, surely a starship-bounded few would be a reasonable quantity.
TauBeta quickly found and absorbed the salient files attending the intersystem journey. The entire starship contingent consisted of one hundred individuals. Ninety colony members would launch in a state of hibernation and would remain in stasis for the entire journey, a period of roughly forty earth years—as measured aboard Eden ll. Relativistic time contraction due to the starship attaining a moderate fraction of light speed for a portion of the journey would result in a much longer perceived passage of time on the home planet. No one alive on earth at the starship’s launch would ever know of the mission’s success or failure.
After launch and a period devoted to system stability evaluation and earth system gravity-assist maneuvers, eight crewmembers would also be placed in a state of hibernation. The remaining two crewmembers would stay on ready status for the following ninety days of flight. If all went well, these two would also enter hibernation. A highly redundant control program would awaken two crewmembers, on a rotating basis, once each year for the purpose of backing up automation with human sensibilities. They would remain on conscious alert status only long enough to assure proper system performance, and then would reenter their dream state. TauBeta felt a degree of pride ripple through his dense field structure as he recognized the good sense his creations exhibited as a shield against the ultimately unknowable vagaries of technology.
Before the colony contingent was next assembled, TauBeta reviewed the personnel files of the entire group and committed them to memory. Faces and backgrounds of each individual were now instantly available for him to review as he prepared to follow them and assess avarice-to-empathy ratios. While he attempted to place it in the background, he could not ignore the fact that he was hoping this small subset of humanity would pass the test, that all would have low a/e ratios. Such an outcome would obviate a need for intervention. History had shown that the progeny of individuals with low a/e ratios at this degree of species evolution were unlikely to increase further over time. Such a colony of happy campers would be considered safe to migrate further into the galaxy without fear of destructive tendencies. Rapidly calculating the probability of the entire colony possessing acceptable a/e ratios, TauBeta confirmed the number to be infinitesimally small. Still, it was not zero, so he would proceed.
Assuming the spacecraft crewmembers were all experienced astronauts who already had been technically and psychologically screened, TauBeta decided to begin his analysis with the crew. Proceeding in this way he hoped to gain some insight as to what to expect when it came to examining individuals who simply desired to leave earth.
The mission commander was a woman of Hispanic origin. She was thirty-eight years of age and a veteran of several earth-system space flights. As trivial items infused TauBeta’s electromagnetic memory elements, he paused only for a millisecond to record that Mission Commander Andrea Cortez was 5 feet 7 inches in height and weighed 120 pounds. She had for many years worn her dark brown hair rather long and did so during her first space assignment. However, she disapproved of the way it sprayed out in a vast halo in the zero gravity photos and videos of that mission. On all subsequent missions she kept her hair clipped in a female version of a flat top coiffeur. In the many photos of Commander Cortez she expressed, through hazel eyes, a pleasant countenance of no-nonsense confidence and dependability. TauBeta terminated recording the trivial entries in the commander’s file at this point and swept swiftly to performance and background data. He tried not to be overly influenced by superficial entries in individual crewmember files, as an a/e ratio could be indicated to a limited degree from performance and background information. The hard evidence, however, was only obtained from visible interaction with other members of the species. The commander’s file was very impressive, as nearly all colonist’s files were, but what TauBeta needed went beyond that.
The starship was scheduled to launch in approximately one half earth year. As it was unclear how much time it would take to follow and assess each of the one hundred and ten potential colonists, TauBeta realized that it would only be prudent to break the colonists into groups and process the individuals of each group in parallel. The crew of ten seemed a proper size for him to proportionately subdivide his own capabilities, so he decided to follow and evaluate ten individuals at a time.
At the end of two earth months, and with a feeling of deep remorse, TauBeta determined that all ten crewmembers exhibited a/e ratios beyond a range that would be expected to support compatible galactic coexistence. While Commander Cortez and a navigation specialist crewman came closest to an acceptable a/e level, even they could not be permitted to influence a new off-world gene pool. TauBeta felt a special sense of failure as he reflected upon how handsome a couple the Commander and Major Myron Bennett would have made. Bennett, a thirty-five year old Caucasian male originally from a Tennessee farming family, was six feet tall, red haired and a natural athlete. He was a United States Air Force transferee to the International Eden Plus Program.
In the short time remaining before launch, TauBeta’s subdivided entities continued to follow and record the activities and decisions made by each potential colonist. As he reviewed the accumulated data, TauBeta became further disillusioned in the species he had helped create. While many individuals possessed reasonably high moral standards, all potential colonists exhibited unacceptably high a/e ratios. A disappointing truth pervaded TauBeta’s life field; an off-earth-system-colony could not be permitted.
Pausing for a fraction of a second, TauBeta came to the answer of just where the evolutionary problem originated. He had monitored the progress of the species from which he had extracted ten samples eons ago. That genetic pool had done well and produced a society with an average a/e that barely registered on the scale used to monitor the parameter. The source of the problem was clearly buried within the genomic structure of the stalled out earth hominids. They should have been left to die out, TauBeta concluded, far too late.
In an attempt to elevate his spirits, TauBeta reflected on the other expansion possibilities that were theoretically available to his species within the boundaries of their parent solar system. He tried to enumerate them in order of decreasing feasibility. The possibilities consisted of constructing above and below surface colonies on their largest natural satellite; colonizing various libration points; terraforming the fourth planet; colonizing the cloud layers of the gas giants. Even TauBeta’s stable field structure exhibited a shuddering transient at the thought of this latter remote possibility. Of course the possibilities were only theoretical alternatives to the most likely outcome for a species with their high a/e. Annihilation through the activation of their own destructive nuclear devices—readily enabled by their low average moral code—was by far the most probable outcome. And the kindest, TauBeta added as a footnote.
Having finished his assessment of the colonist’s dim future, there remained only sixty earth days to the launch of Eden II.
Since TauBeta’s progress was necessarily paced by the events transpiring in earth-time, he used his multifaceted capabilities to look deeper into the details involved in the Eden II project. He discovered that the rocket to be launched was not the entire vehicle necessary to make the intersystem journey. Waiting in earth orbit, adjacent to a major space station was the primary propulsion stage that would be connected to Eden II by astronaut assemblers. This nuclear stage and its vast supply of hydrogen fuel would accelerate Eden II eventually to a moderate fraction of light speed. At a programmed point in the mission trajectory, attended by the full crew, the ship would execute a one-hundred-eighty-degree, end-for-end turn to prepare the ship for the deceleration phase. This phase would slowly decelerate the ship to a velocity permitting it to pass in front of the most massive planet in the target system. Losing energy in the swigby, the craft would then be captured in a highly elliptical orbit about the giant. At the appropriate combined conditions of apoapsis and a minimum distance to the target planet, Spero, Eden II would embark upon a Hohmann transfer trajectory to Spero space. Arriving near Spero, the crew would next oversee an injection of their craft into a deep orbit about the planet. Established in this orbit, the nuclear propulsion stage would be decoupled from the control and habitat stage in preparation for deorbiting and landing on Spero.
What could possibly go wrong? TauBeta asked himself. Probably a thousand things came the answer. But, barring an encounter with one or more of those speed bumps, the plan, as TauBeta’s nebula companion had concluded, seemed feasible.
3
Mission Commander Andrea Cortez gazed silently through the window of her assigned quarters, deeply immersed in a kaleidoscopic blend of anticipation and regret. The previous evening, a scant few hours ago, she had spent what would be most likely her last intimate interlude with those closest to her. The remaining days and nights would be almost exclusively devoted to mission training.
The voyager’s small world was now maintained nearly isolated from most outside observation and influence. The goal was to weld the future colonists into a community with bonds that would survive the unimaginable fragmentation produced by decades of hibernation. To assist in looking forward, and not back toward earth, the colonists were discouraged from frequent contact with family members and others close to them who would be remaining earth-bound. The end phase training would be more psychological than technical.
Commander Cortez broke from her reverie to check the time. She had scheduled a crewmember meeting for 8 AM. People would be gathering in just a few minutes.
TauBeta found it impossible to isolate himself completely from the fate of his creations. A natural extinction brought about by their evolved a/e ratio was one thing, but personally directing the deaths of all Eden II’s voyagers invoked in him distasteful imagery. He searched the vast resources instantly available to him for any other means to keep his creations earth-bound, to await a natural annihilation. During the process, he passed upon the advantage he would have if he could perceive the thoughts and fears at play in the minds of the voyagers, especially the crewmembers. It seemed counterintuitive to the Tau that the advanced state of their evolution still did not provide them a means to reliably perceive thoughts in the minds of sentient beings. The states of random cells in the memory regions of brains could be read. But the process enabling an individual brain to sort out and combine these random bits of biological code almost instantly into a reasoned thought or sentence defied the Tau’s perceptive capability. However, It was possible to inject a stimulus in the mind of another that could evoke a response. An aural response was best, but the meaning of a persistent mental formulation could sometimes be inferred through other means.
What might he accomplish with this form of weak influence? TauBeta wondered. Placing thoughts in the minds of crewmembers would surely lead to speculations of schizophrenia. If he had more time he could inject subtle thoughts in the minds of national leaders that, over time, might convince them that leaving the home system was a bad idea. But the Eden II project was a vast, international undertaking, which had consumed more than two decades and an enormous expenditure of funds. Idea implants at this late juncture would only obscure the plans and create opportunities for pointless delays. It was far too late for such interventions, he decided. The only option remaining was to launch with the voyagers and create a diversion before their mission was completed.
“We’ll be running our last launch simulation tomorrow,” commander Cortez announced to her assembled crew. “Be prepared for the test director to inject a launch abort scenario. We haven’t had one of those little surprises for nearly a year now, so study up. I’d hate to have to stay behind as a pile of debris.”
The warning offered in a lighthearted manner was received with laughter, the high volume of which gave evidence of the tension invading her crew. Cortez’s facial expression betrayed her search for something to say to directly address the issue. It was far too late for subtlety.
Assuming a relaxed posture, Cortez smiled and looked out at the faces of mates she’d trained with for over two years.
“It’s late, it’s very late,” she began. “But we’ve trained with a shadow crew. They know everything we know, and are just as willing to make this hop as any of you. The mission won’t be jeopardized if any of you decide that saying goodbye forever to all you’ve known is not for you.”
Casting her eyes slowly back and forth over her people, Cortez finally smiled and said, “Assemble for suit-up at 0600. See you there.”
Counter to his hopes, TauBeta observed the final testing and mission preparation phases to proceed without the occurrence of major unplanned events. In a practiced and methodical manner the principal milestones leading to the launch of Eden II were checked off and the scheduled launch was just one day away. While the launch stack of Eden II was not the entire intersystem configuration, the assembled vehicle stood on the launch site at an impressive height of over 200 meters. After launch and the discharging of two launch stages, the crew and colony segment would rendezvous in orbit with its intersystem propulsion stage, where astronauts had long practiced for the critical final assembly phase.
Although his personal mission was to see to it that Eden II would fail to reach it’s goal, TauBeta sensed what he could only assume was akin to a degree of human exhilaration as he watched the main booster segment ignite and the entire stack rise above the launch site.
After the on-orbit joining of the intersystem propulsion stage to the transit stage of Eden II, and following the required compatibility tests, small auxiliary chemical thrusters were employed to move Eden II a safe distance from the supporting station. Soon after, auxiliary boosters were fired to initiate Eden II into a complex suite of planetary swing-bys to increase system exit energy. Only after completion of this hydrogen-saving process was Eden II’s reactor raised to criticality and intersystem thrusting begun.
The long process of preparing to leave earth space gave crewmembers a great deal of time to continue communicating with earthbound mission controllers, family members, and comrades they were leaving behind. This chapter of the mission had not been overlooked and the expected conclusion was realized in a few short months. Earthbound associations faded in the natural course of moving along with mission life. However, the effect of undoing some of the disruption resulting from earth-based mission training was limited to the crew, while ninety colonists rested in what was hoped peaceful slumber.
It was over a year until the last planet gravity-assist swing-by was complete. The subsequent sequence of events was also accomplished smoothly and without incident. Eden II was oriented along a predetermined vector; the reactor/hydrogen thrust system was brought online; the heading for the target system and planet Spero was reaffirmed; and finally, eight crewmembers went quietly into hibernation. Commander Cortez and her first officer would remain on alert status for another ninety days to begin the established deep space, crew rotation protocol.
TauBeta confirmed for himself that he would, indeed, derail the Eden II mission, but the plan he was developing required him to wait until the crew rotation schedule would have Commander Cortez and space navigation specialist Myron Bennett on station. Reviewing the operation schedule that Commander Cortez had created, TauBeta observed that the commander and Bennett would be awakened and serve a ninety-day alert period nine rotations downstream. TauBeta found this to be encouraging. The intervening eleven mission years of flight time would provide ample opportunity for things to go wrong. If they did, perhaps he would not be required to take active steps to bring an end to his creations.
But assuming he would be required to act, TauBeta spent a great deal of mission time deciding on the optimum way to announce in advance the approach he would take. He had long since decided that if the mission was successful in proceeding through the hazards of escaping earth space, he would not end the mission before announcing it. Of course that meant announcing it to a maximum of only two crewmembers, and for a mixture of reasons TauBeta wanted the commander and Major Bennett to be the ones he would inform. As the mission and crew rotations progressed, TauBeta decided to visit the target planet, Spero, a planet he promised himself to shield from interference by the colonists onboard Eden II.
Spero was observed by TauBeta to be an earthlike body in what was popularly termed the Goldilocks zone of its primary. Oxygen in the atmosphere was supportive of human requirements, surface water was plentiful and life had evolved. Flying creatures much like the birds of earth flew freely in all wild places of the planet. Investigating deeper into what passed for biological specimens, TauBeta discovered evidence of civilization. The apex species was humanoid in appearance, though moderately taller in stature and on average of a seemingly more robust physiology. Judging only by appearances, TauBeta concluded that successful interbreeding with earth specimens was, sadly, highly probable.
The apex creatures had evolved a working societal structure and treated science as a tool to best serve individuals and society as a whole. There seemed to be no signs of aggressive behavior nor need for territorial defense elements. It was TauBeta’s summary finding that humans entering and attempting to integrate with Spero’s dominant species would be disruptive at best and most probably destructive. TauBeta experienced a sudden surge of affection for Spero’s creatures and a need to protect them, as originally, long ago, he was driven to create and protect a similar breed on earth. He committed himself to look into the matter of Spero’s humanoid creation as soon as his present dilemma was resolved. He was eager to determine if Spero’s evolution had proceeded naturally or with assistance from the Tau.
TauBeta returned to Eden II more convinced than ever that the colonists must not land on their target planet. And since the Spero system contained no other planets in the habitable zone, he knew it was his responsibility to ensure the failure of Eden II’s mission.
TauBeta’s plan was to inject a message into Commander Cortez’s mind as she entered a deep sleep state. Such a message could easily be interpreted as fragments of a disjointed dream, but he would repeat the message several sleep periods in a row for emphasis. There was a chance that Cortez would be driven mad, but it was a chance TauBeta elected to take. It was his goal to initiate a form of communication between the two of them. Questions Cortez might pose in some interpretable fashion, TauBeta would answer in the next sleep cycle. Over time, barring Cortez going insane, perhaps an unnatural but effective dialog could be established.
4
The ninth crew rotation had arrived aboard Eden II, and Commander Cortez and navigator Bennett were successfully raised from hibernation. After two sleep periods they were still familiarizing themselves with the ship’s status and the health parameters of the sleeping colonists. TauBeta delayed his experiment with Cortez’s mind until she and Bennett had established a natural working routine.
In anticipation of Cortez’s third sleep cycle, TauBeta waited patiently for signs that Cortez had entered a REM state. He then attempted to inject the sense of a message announcing his presence. For emphasis, and in an attempt to limit the cycles required to elicit a response, he repeated the stimulus in varying textual and graphical contexts. Observing Cortez to suddenly rotate and speak unintelligibly, TauBeta exited the domain of Cortez’s mind and waited for her to awaken naturally.
The established operating plan for any on-alert crew pair was to meet soon after their sleep period and go over the system surveillance plan for the next twelve hours.
Meeting Bennett in the crew assembly area, Cortez offered a minimum greeting and sat down across from her subordinate crewmate. She remained silent and stared down toward the table surface with an expression betraying a condition of deep concentration. Apparently finding his patience exhausted from waiting for his commander to break the silence, Bennett inquired, “It’s funny how we still need to have these naps after long periods of stasis, isn’t it Commander?”
Receiving no response after several seconds, Bennett resumed, “I mean it doesn’t seem to...” when Cortez interrupted.
“I’m sorry Major, what was it you were saying?”
“Oh, only that it seems odd that we need regular sleep cycles when...”
“Right, right. I agree.” Cortez interjected. “Actually, I’m not sure I’m going to spend a complete eight hours sleeping. I don’t think I need it. There’s a lot more to do aboard ship than saw logs.”
An expression of concern claimed Bennett’s face, as he seemed to search unsuccessfully for a response.
Cortez raised her face to Bennett’s and resumed the conversation with a question. “Do your dreams take on an unusual format after hypersleep, Major?”
Taking a moment to transition his thought process, Bennett responded, “Well, no, not really. I pretty much dream about the same old things. You know, a mix of things I’ve done and still want to do. Women I’ve known and still want to know. The usual stuff.”
“Sure,” Cortez replied. “I just wondered. I’m having some disturbing dreams. Not alarming, just, well, unusual.”
Their alert period passed without incident or discovery of unexpected data, and having come to an end, both crewmembers retired to their private quarters. TauBeta observed Cortez to be uneasy and not ready for sleep. She began to read, but after a short time her eyes began to wander off the page. Defeated in her attempt to evade or significantly delay another disturbing dream experience, she lay down and closed her eyes.
TauBeta waited once again for Cortez’s rapid eyelid movement to disclose the onset of an active dream cycle, and knowing the REM period to be of short duration he began immediately injecting a reinforcement of his previous series of text and imagery.
Suddenly Cortez sat bolt upright and said, “What, what do you want?”
It was time, thought TauBeta, as he formulated and implanted a stimulus in Cortez’s conscious mind. The stimulus was intended to transmit the message that Cortez was not alone and that a means of communication was being requested. The resulting expression on Cortez’s face was one of confusion and distress. Once again, she spoke aloud and said, “If you’re here, say something. Otherwise, stay out of my head!”
TauBeta remained silent and waited for Cortez to recover from the disturbing episode she had experienced. She took a long time regaining her composure, but Cortez finally calmed herself and laid back down to sleep, TauBeta backed away and permitted the Commander to sleep undisturbed for several hours. Then, just before the time Cortez had set for her morning wakeup alarm, TauBeta attempted to implant the simple, and probably unnecessary, message that Cortez should look to Major Bennett for an answer in the morning. Then, without waiting to see what immediate reaction his implant might elicit, he moved instantly to Bennett’s quarters. As he stood over the sleeping navigation specialist, TauBeta couldn’t help wishing him well and hoping that Bennett would live through the transition—which would soon take over his very existence.
As Commander Cortez entered the crew assembly area, she once again found Major Myron Bennett seated at a long table, apparently reviewing an entry in the ship’s log.
“Good morning, Major,” she offered. How did you sleep?”
Rising from concentrating on other matters, Bennett smiled and responded, “ Quite well, Commander. How ‘bout you? Any more of those unusual dreams?”
Facing her subordinate directly behind an expression of intense concern, Cortez deflected. “Well, yes, in fact the episodes are continuing. Do you think you could shed any light on this matter...Myron?”
Smiling, the officer replied, “Yes, Commander. I’m quite sure I can. Please take a seat while I try to explain a few things.”
With her expression turning from concern to wild confusion, Cortez seated herself across from Bennett and waited.
“First off, let me introduce myself, Commander Cortez,” the officer across from her began. “Communication between us demanded extreme measures, so I have commandeered Major Bennett’s body and mind for a while to enable a more human form of communication. If it is more comfortable for you to continue referring to me as Major Bennett or Myron, please do so. However, my name is TauBeta. I am an entity of the Tau community in this, your home galaxy.”
Seemingly unable to usher forth an appropriate response, Cortez blurted out, formally, “Major Bennett, if this is some sort of light hearted banter at my expense, believe me, I’m not amused!”
Retreating from a smile to an expression of serious concern, TauBeta said, in Bennett’s voice, “Perhaps it will speed things along, Commander, if you can simply accord what I tell you as a true appraisal of your situation. It may help if you can absorb the fact that Major Bennett is not with us right now. Also, It may speed matters along if you begin referring to me as TauBeta. Hopefully, you will rapidly come to the conclusion that there exists no alternative.
“To ease your mind regarding your navigation officer, I am hopeful that after I exit his domain he will return with his psyche unscathed. I can not promise you, however, that such will be the case.”
Observing Cortez to attain a state of lesser anxiety, TauBeta began to explain events leading to the current state of the Eden II mission.
“The goal of the Tau is to observe the evolution of sentient species and inject only minor adjustments as required for the development of compatible life forms. From time to time, a certain amount of culling is demanded, but I assure you that is the last thing we ever do.”
TauBeta waited at this point in anticipation of an expected response. It came in short order,
“Were you present during the evolution of humans on earth,” Cortez asked.
“Wonderful!” TauBeta exclaimed. “You’ve saved us so much time. Yes, the Tau sprang from a civilization preceding earths by eons. Much of our evolutionary process was still ongoing when our original primary star approached a nova state. It became necessary for the Tau to exit our original home planet and settle on another far distant one. It was a process not unlike the one that has spawned your Eden II mission.
“As our evolution continued, we eventually transitioned into individual states of contained electromagnetic energy, not really living and not dying. We became immortal.”
Once again TauBeta waited for Cortez to catch up. Finally, after another long period dedicated to digesting the information she had just received, Cortez, asked, “Are you the...a...entity we commonly refer to as God?”
TauBeta tried carefully to fashion an appropriate response, while at the same time hoping to arrive at a complete mutual understanding of mission status as rapidly as possible. “Humanity arose,” he began, “as do all life forms, through natural organic processes. In a compatible environment it all begins with chemistry. Atoms form into molecules. Molecules form into proteins...and before you know it you’re riding your first bicycle. Normally we have nothing to do with the process. However, when we observe the need to influence progress in some way, there is always the chance that our injection of directions can be interpreted as coming from a creator. Sadly, that’s where concepts of one god or another can arise.
“In the case of earth’s generation of life forms, the apex hominid species reached a point of stagnation. I had adopted earth as my responsibility, and when I observed that progress was not being made over an unnaturally long period of time, I decided to take action. I should tell you that I would not have done so if I had not observed your progenitors to exhibit some remarkable achievements. The Tau are not above allowing a transition from one apex species to another, but your ancestors were enviable for the communities they had assembled. They simply hadn’t progressed beyond conquering fire to their needs. They needed to progress to the wheel and beyond, and simply would not do so.”
TauBeta dropped his gaze from the commander’s face as he said with a hint of regret, “It was at this juncture that I made my decision to intervene.
“I was aware of a different early hominid species on a planet in another system. This species showed signs of more rapid advancement than that of your progenitors, and I made the decision to transfer a few specimens to earth. My hope was that interbreeding between the species would unblock the evolutionary stagnation I had observed on your planet.”
TauBeta raised his face to Cortez again and proclaimed with some degree of pride, “And I was right! Your ancestors moved right along from fire to wheel and beyond. But I became overly convinced of my success and failed to closely observe some of the more subtle attributes you were developing.
“You will remember me saying that the Tau do not interfere in the natural transition between apex species. As a general rule, we also try not to interfere in a species going forward that exhibits a high avarice-to-empathy ratio. But we will not permit such a species to extend the feature beyond its home planet system. Such species nearly always self-destruct when left to their own means. Then, there are species such as yours. Such families exist on the brink of annihilation without going over. It follows soon after that the twin curses of overpopulation and advanced technology drive you to leave your planet in search of other worlds to pollute.
“I apologize,” TauBeta interjected. “I have no cause to be judgmental. The primary mistake was mine alone.
“I was delinquent in not paying close attention to you’re a-to-e ratio for a very long time. In my defense, being immortal has the effect of deemphasizing the aspect of time. But when the Tau observed my error and summoned me to a gathering, I quickly reviewed your status and became aware of the result of my delinquency. I observed that the average avarice-to-empathy ratio of your species was well beyond any limit that would sustain a stable, global community. Also, you had persisted through the point at which annihilation should have occurred and were about to proceed off planet with the intention of colonizing another world in another system. That is prohibited by the Tau, especially if there is the slightest chance of species contamination.”
In the persona of Myron Bennett, TauBeta leaned across the table to emphasize his next statement. “I have visited Spero, your target planet, Commander Cortez. It is a beautiful, peaceful world inhabited by an apex humanoid species that live in communities without signs of aggression. Their level of technology appears to be on a par with yours, but their population has remained within that supportable by their resources. They too may soon proceed off world, but the Tau will not be alarmed when they do. There’s always the chance that such a transit could bring the Spero inhabitants in contact with an aggressive species such as yours, but the Tau do not interfere in an honest gamble.”
Knowing it was time to hear a response from Cortez, TauBeta waited calmly for the mission Commander to reply. Speaking cautiously, Cortez summarized her understanding of what she had just heard. “I presume that what you’re telling me is that we, our colony, will not be permitted to land on Spero.”
“That is correct, Commander.”
“How will you stop us, murder all of us as we rest in hypersleep?”
“No, not anything as violent as that. In fact, you will be free to choose your own fate—within bounds. You, as commander, may choose to keep the ultimate fate of your mission from the rest of your crew and the colonists, or you may chose to wake your entire crew, inform them of their new situation and take a majority vote on how to proceed. However, I advise against alerting the colonists. You don’t have the supplies to support an extended panic. And there are times when a limit exists to which a democratic process should be extended. I believe this to be one of those times.
“I suggest that you, in the company of your crew, live out a semblance of earthly lives until you find it reasonable to enter hypersleep—with no awakening. It will be an unnatural existence to be sure, but an existence nonetheless. The choice, as I say, is yours.”
Through an expression that clearly indicated she was not completely satisfied with what she had heard so far, Commander Cortez asked, “If we decide to ignore your proscription against landing on Spero, how do you intend to prevent us from doing so—absent the violence you say you do not intend?”
The familiar, smiling face of Myron Bennett issued forth TauBeta’s words in response. “I ask for your trust in this matter, Commander. It will help if you reflect upon the power of the Tau to intercede in the fundamental process of evolution. To end your mission would be a far simpler matter. The end of your mission need not be violent or painful for any of you. Please leave it at that.”
5
As Commander Cortez excused herself and returned to her quarters, TauBeta remained in the assembly area. He quickly decided to maintain his Bennett physicality for two reasons. The first was because the successful reanimation of Bennett was not a certainty. The second was because he knew Cortez would have more questions. And the invisibility of the Tau and the absence of vocal capability were off-putting and disadvantaging factors for communication with humans.
TauBeta did not have long to wait for the commander’s reappearance. As she strode slowly toward the table where TauBeta remained seated, she began speaking. “Mister Beta, ah, Tau...”
TauBeta gracefully interrupted. “Feel free to address me as you would Major Bennett, if that will ease the matter, Commander.”
“Thank you.“ Cortez responded. “I’ve attempted to sort matters out with regard to this new reality, and I believe the next thing to do before I awaken the rest of my crew—yes, I have decided to allow the crew to have free will regarding how to end their lives. Anyway, the next thing I must do is send a message to earth regarding this new situation.
“As doubtless you are aware, the mission directors on earth continue to send us news updates every few days. I realize it’s almost laughable when you realize that the news we receive is actually history by the time we receive it. But it’s their intention to let us know they haven’t forgotten us. As an aside, we have been notified of progress being made on the next Spero colonization mission. So, when you leave our little party you will have another ship on which to hitch a ride; that is unless the people we’ve left behind pull the trigger and invoke annihilation before the next starship launch.”
TauBeta was pleased that Cortez was taking her new status in stride, but he felt a small surge of suspicion go through him as Cortez spoke so easily and clearly. Did she have an auxiliary plan? No matter, he decided. The details ensuring the fate of Eden II were already established, and they were irreversible.
“Major,” Cortez smiled, “It’s time to rig the high power laser communication assembly. We can then break it in on what will be the most significant message of our voyage. Are you up to lending a hand.”
Eager to exhibit his value as a member of the mission crew, TauBeta responded, “Absolutely, Commander. Shall we suit up?”
“Immediately,” Cortez replied.
After suiting up and inspecting each other for any missed details, Cortez led TauBeta into an equipment airlock. The high power laser was already in the bay and ready to be extracted and installed at a prepared position on Eden II’s hull. Cortez went briskly over the procedure to be executed by the two oddly mated crewmembers. Facing TauBeta standing beside her, Cortez said, “After dawning our helmets, we’ll check each other’s equipment one more time and turn on our oxygen supplies.”
Pointing toward a small control panel on the chamber wall, she said, “Next, I’ll initiate the chamber decompression cycle which will extract over ninety percent of the oxygen from the chamber. This light will turn from blue to red when that’s established. Then it will be time to open the external bay door.”
Smiling broadly toward TauBeta, Cortez emphasized, “That part is always exhilarating for the first time. Sadly, it will have no affect on you, Major.”
Continuing her guidance in a professional manner, Cortez said, “Keep your tether connected to a vehicle station point at all times. We’ll extract the laser assembly by these grab rails and just move the beast out the door. I’ll lead you to the mounting point. It’s just a few meters from the bay door.”
The experienced astronauts—one, infinitely more experienced than the other—brought the large assembly to its mounting point in short order. While continuing to make minor positional adjustments to the equipment, Cortez spoke through her intercom to TauBeta. “Major, will you please return to the equipment bay and retrieve the torqueing tool for me? You’ll find it alone, clamped in a fixture beside the control panel.”
“Certainly, Commander,” came TauBeta’s response. “Be right back.”
Cortez lifted her head slightly to observe TauBeta’s retreat. Then, she swiftly rotated the laser assembly, pointed it at her crewmember’s back and pressed the local activation switch.
The flash of light resulting from the violent integration of two immense electrical entities was blinding, even through the supplemental face shield Cortez had lowered in anticipation of an indeterminate reaction. The flash became a persistent flare of such intensity that Cortez was forced to close her eyes tightly, until, after several seconds, the perceived glow reduced to a level that allowed her to open her eyes and observe the expected carnage.
The region, which had previously been a chaotic space of intense light, was seemingly undisturbed, with the only discernible change being the total absence of her shipmate.
Refocusing her attention on a few remaining adjustments to the laser system, Cortez then ambled back to the equipment bay, closed the hatch and proceeded to repressurize the bay.
After completing her EVA and storing away one spacesuit and related gear, Cortez prepared a cup of coffee and headed for the ship’s command center. Settling in before the communication console, she activated the system and prepared to formulate, in the most understandable words she could muster, just what had recently transpired. As the screen lit up, Cortez found a message waiting. In the artificial gravity of the rotating command module, Cortez’s coffee spilled to the deck as she read the message before her.
Commander Cortez,
I regret very much the loss to your crew of Major Bennett.
While I may have been successful in reanimating him, as
I said, such a result was not a certainty. Don’t blame
yourself for performing an inhumane act. As I implied through several references to your species’ a/e ratio, your action was
very much in keeping with the decision making
process of your kind. The result, however, was not precisely
that which you intended.
As you survey the status and trajectory of your vessel, you
will find that the heading toward Spero’s primary star will remain
forever unchanged. You will be unable to perform the planned midcourse rotation in preparation for your deceleration phase.
Your velocity will continue to increase to a significant fraction
of light speed, much reducing the perceived time it will take to reach your objective...well, not Spero, of course. As I attempted
to illuminate for you, the Tau cannot permit that location for your species.
Doubtless, you and your crew will attempt to change your fate.
But you will find that all the adjustments that have been made
are irreversible. I hope you can come to accept this condition
very quickly and focus upon how best to spend the lifetime
ahead of you. Make the most of it. That is all you have.
I strongly encourage you and your crew to reenter hibernation
in advance of the end of your mission, as it will terminate in the
corona of Spero’s sun. It will not be pleasant, and there is no shame in avoiding such an inevitable climax.
I am ultimately the one responsible for your fate, as I will be
responsible for the fate of other earth voyagers who embark
upon a similar escape from your planet. There is nothing you
could have done to avoid what lies ahead for you.
TauBeta
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