Launch: Chapter 11

  It had been a few hours since Kirsten had shown Markus to his room.  At first he’d just walked slowly through the suite rubbing his chin.  This was his home now, his world… this was his life now.  Tentatively at first, he had started opening the storage containers he’d sent ahead of him.  All of his every day needs would be provided for here on the ship, so all he’d brought with him were things he had an intangible attachment to, as well as his favourite clothes.

  His hunger was beginning to overwhelm his desire to finish the task he had begun, so he figured now was as good a time as any to investigate the food situation.  He hadn’t eaten since he’d had breakfast with Hugh that morning, and this seemed as good a time as any to make his way to the dining hall.   He was a little particular about his eating habits, perhaps it was simply an extension of his more general preference for privacy.  He found that eating is one of those activities which can far too often result in embarrassment, something he tended to try to avoid at all costs.  One such strategy was a dislike of eating in front of strangers.

  His anxiety was magnified by the fact that without Hugh he was now alone on the ship, completely on his own and without any social backup.  He would be spending the rest of his life with these people, and the forty or so people currently in the dining hall might forever remember their first impression of him, as the stooge who spilt his spaghetti all over himself on the first day.  He resolved that he would inevitably have to eat many meals here, so it would probably be best to familiarize himself with the enemy territory as soon as possible.    

  Markus knew from studying the mission literature that there would typically be four or five entrees available, and one simply chose between these no later than an hour before meal time.   That way everyone who was dining could be served without anything being wasted.  However, strict adherence to this policy wouldn’t begin until after the actual launch.  Although as much as possible was being done to create an illusion to the contrary around here, absolutely nothing could be wasted on the ship, and everything had to be recycled back into the systems one way or another.  There would after all be no resupply missions, and for their one hundred and sixty year mission, there would be no new matter of any kind taken aboard.

  Upon arriving at the dining hall, Markus was impressed by its size.  He had read its dimension a while ago but that could only be so useful.  As he looked around, Markus figured that this was probably the largest room in the ship and (aside from the arboretum) he was correct. This was a room designed to accommodate the three hundred people expected to be onboard when they finally arrived at Haven.  With the entire crew coming and going at all hours of the day and night, it was also expected to become a social hub of the ship.

  Standing at the counter to one end of the large room, he considered whether he wanted the steak sandwich, the sushi, or the daily dinner salad which today happened to be a spinach and raspberry number.  “Auspicious beginnings…” he muttered to himself.  Markus hated both sushi and spinach.  Fortunately he was an absolute hound for red schmeat, and he quietly salivated to himself over the thought of a nice steak.  He thought ‘steak sandwich’ towards the selection screen which changed to a doneness selection screen, which he obliged with the thought ‘medium’.  A list of available side dishes then appeared and he selected the caesar salad.

  The room was large enough to clearly betray the habitat ring’s curvature.  The room was so large that one could clearly see the ceiling and floor curving parallel to each other.  Much like the central corridor of Orbital One, this room had a large main floor with second level balconies which projected out some ways over the lower level areas.  The room had a remarkably open space feeling to it with high two story ceilings in the middle of the room between the upper levels.  The spacious effect was further enhanced by the long strip of window which lined the floor of the open central area.  The current view out the window was the same continually changing one he’d seen out the floor window in his own suite.  Off to his side there was a staircase which led up the second level balcony sections which served as overflow seating overlooking the main floor below.

  The captain’s table stood out.  It was a large round table situated in the middle of the room in the lowest point of the floor’s faint curvature.  The rest of the tables were rectangular and neatly arranged in rows down the length of the room.  Markus found it refreshing to see the authorities of the ship in full display and accessible to the crew, not locked away in some private captain’s dining room.

  Captain Wiremu Tynes wore no special affectations, and was dressed as casually as the rest in red operations coveralls.  It had been some decades since he’d seen Tynes in person but he had no problem picking him out from the rest at the table.  The other two remaining principle founders of the mission were also at the table.   As much as everyone involved in New Horizon loathed being compared to a cult, there were nevertheless some unfortunate parallels.

  Doomsday cults of the past were dangerous and hurtful because the leaders would require the surrendering of all personal possessions to the cult, and it was usually that point at which somebody took the money and ran.  But here in this case it was quite literally true that whatever wealth the crew had would be completely useless to them after the launch.  While making sure that loved ones left behind were well taken care of was certainly understood, it was suggested that the crew contribute to the mission in ‘any way they could.’  The mission founders were (to varying degrees) fabulously wealthy themselves and had led by example, essentially devoting their entire personal fortunes to the project.

  One of them was Master Sengupta, the woman who Markus had met in the shuttle earlier that day.  He would have recognized her regardless though; Sengupta was the woman behind the biggest biotechnology company in the world.   She started out working as a biotechnologist, and then broke out on her own with some other talent she’d personally recruited.  These days when it came to quality bio-reactors, DNA transcribers, protein sequencers, or any other kind of biotechnology, Brahma Biotech was a brand with a singular reputation for quality.  It was the only line Markus had used when he’d run the cloning integrity lab at UBC, but now that seemed to be part of a past life.  Sadhika was one of the richest people in the world despite contemporary economics, which made ever larger fortunes ever harder to enlarge.   She had committed the entirety of her fortune and influence to make the New Horizon mission a reality.

  The third principal of the mission was sitting with them as well, the writer and philosopher Kim In-Su.   The Korean born wordsmith knew over a dozen different languages and spoke eight of them with perfect fluency.   Academically he was best known for his renowned and superb work in the translation of ancient and obscure texts.   Publicly he is best known for his novels which he translates himself from his native Korean into English, Mandarin, Hindi, and Arabic.

  Markus had read some of Kim’s work and had been a fan of his since he first started reading him.  Kim wrote with a philosophical undertone which particularly appealed to Markus, and his best novels could be dramatic, sad, funny, and exciting all at the same time while dealing with deep metaphysical questions about humanity in the narrative.  Markus had come to believe in reading his work, that Kim was trying to reignite a renewed relationship with the philosophical puzzles of the ancients, and to encourage contemporary readers to think again about what it really meant to live ‘the good life’.  Markus was certain that this is what made the novels so indescribably appealing, but he was skeptical that the messages would penetrate that deeply with most of the general public.  Kim hadn’t published anything since he signed up for the New Horizon mission; presumably his efforts had been focused here.

  Markus noticed that Kirsten Jackson was also seated with them, along with three others he didn’t recognize at the table, two other women and another man.  When looking over the table he lingered to take a longer look at Kirsten.   She was attractive, and he’d already decided he liked her, but acknowledging it to himself made him a little anxious.  He recognized each of the others as department heads, but their names and positions, while almost on the tip of his tongue from the personnel files, ultimately eluded him.  He still hadn’t had a chance to familiarize himself with every file, in fact far from it.  A hundred detailed bios were after all a lot of reading.

  “Markus?”  A disembodied yet polite voice originating from the food counter asked, as a fresh steak sandwich with caesar salad slid onto the counter in front of him.  He took his tray and proceeded to try and find an out of the way table off to the side of the room somewhere.  Before he could settle on a sufficiently obscure spot though, Sengupta called out to him from behind.

  “BOWLAND!”  He spun around quickly to find all seven of them scrutinizing him intently, and he immediately began squirming under his skin as a result.   “Come here…” Sengupta added.   Startled, but not yet scared, he brought his tray over to join them.  As he approached she motioned for him to take one of the empty seats at the table.

  Initially concerned that he may somehow be in some sort of trouble, Markus took a seat at the table facing the captain with Kirsten to his left, and Kim on his right.  “What can I do for you?”  Markus asked hesitantly, while trying not to sound hesitant about asking.

  “You told me in the shuttle today that you have a background in genetics, correct?”

  “Yes.  Well, among other things.  While at UBC I specialized in mapping correlations between genetic patterns and neurophysiological structures and/or observable behaviours.  I also helped to develop the current technique of transcribing an artificial synthetic genome.  But of course it was… Master Sengupta here who developed the idea into practical technology.  I believe it’s the technique that you’re um… I mean that we, are planning to use here on the New Horizon.”

  He offered an acknowledging and respectful nod to Sengupta, which she returned.  He could go on about his qualifications; he did after all hold multiple distinctions, honours, and degrees in a variety of fields.  This was something which was rather unavoidable if one wanted to work in the kinds of highly integrated research areas Markus was interested in.  He stopped short of reciting his entire CV though, having learned long ago that open bragging tended to lessen other people’s opinion of him rather than increasing it.

  “Well that’s just perfect,” she replied, “it turns out that our head of genetics had to back out at the last minute.  It’s not a numerical problem since we can just replace her with the next name on the wildcard list, but we do need to worry about filling her position as a department head.  I remembered speaking to you earlier today when I found out and… well it almost seemed like providence.  I looked over your file and frankly, no other crew member is anywhere near as qualified for the position as you are, certainly no one who isn’t positively needed in some other position.  It’d be a win for us if we could just recruit you to the position instead of training up someone less qualified or rushing a new recruit.  It would lock up some of your brain hours too by the way.”

  They were all scrutinizing him very carefully, but trying not to do so in so obvious a way as to be impolite.   Markus was nonetheless fully aware of the scrutiny, and it grated at him as it always did when he felt under a microscope.

  “It certainly sounds like something I’m qualified for.  Uh… what exactly would be involved?”  He was less concerned with the volume of actual work as he was with the amount of responsibility and oversight he would be burdened with.  This time one of the women he had failed to recognize answered him.   She was clearly very deeply African, with eyes, curly hair, and skin all a lighter shade of coal.

  “With such a small and finite population, we are very conscious of maintaining genetic integrity and diversity in such a closed system.”  She spoke fast had an accent he couldn’t quite place… ‘Focus,’ he silently chastised himself.

  “Instead of natural reproduction, gametes will be harvested from all crew members and when a couple wishes to have children we can then artificially create a zygote for implantation, one which we can be sure is free of anomalies.  Long term storage of all personnel’s zygotes will also allow us to combine deceased personnel with future living personnel as well.”  Markus was mystified at how she could speak such technical language so rapidly.  He had to really pay attention to catch everything she was saying.

  “That will allow natural, though guided, genetic recombination between living crew, and any former crew member which should help us create novel genomes, and avoid unhealthy ones,” she concluded.

  The captain now spoke to make clear what his responsibilities would be.  “You would be Head of Genetics and ultimately responsible for two things, tracking the lineages of the crew to ensure appropriate genetic matches, and overseeing the actual physical blendings; our medical staff will handle the actual implantation.  Oh, and for the record taking a department head position counts for all of your required brain hours, and you’d have the discretion to spend your body hours working in your lab, but you’ll have a small staff to assist you in both the brain and body work either way.”

  “Do you have a genetic transcriber?”  The Tynes and Sengupta looked at each other with just a hint of concern before they both turned their gaze back to Markus.

  “No… but it was deliberate,” Sengupta answered.  It seemed important to her that it not appear to be an oversight.  “We decided we wanted to commit to a more natural approach, as ironic as that may sound given the job we’re offering you.”  She appeared to pause for a moment to muse at herself over the contradiction.  “We wanted to preserve live gametes and blend them naturally to allow for productive mutation, so a transcriber didn’t seem necessary.”  The woman paused, and appeared to gently bite her lip in concentration while determining precisely what she wished to say, and then finally continued.  “We want to continue with and explore the gene pool we left Earth with, as opposed to artificially creating new genetic variations.”

  “I understand,” Markus didn’t really, but he was willing to play along. “We can still do it that way if we bring a transcriber though.  More to the point, I would be very uncomfortable taking on the responsibility of such a small genetic population without one.  I would insist on it, if only to repair what damage might be done to the stored gametes and embryos.  If any were physically destroyed a transcriber would also allow us to recreate them from records.  Plus we might need one for replicating bacteria or viruses for medical applications too, after all we have exactly zero clue what the microbiology on Haven might be.  It’s all well and good to want some sort of genetic purity, but with a genetic transcriber the digitized genetic information can back up the physical biological material.”

  “Of course…” Sengupta contemplated.  She appeared a little pained, though Markus thought she was hiding it well.  He imagined she might be a little disappointed in herself over the failure to consider the possible ultimate need of such a device once the G.S.S. arrived at Haven.  “Yes, of course.  I think I have to agree.”  She turned and looked at the captain, who nodded back at her.

  “It makes sense to me,” he added.   The two of them looked at Kim, who silently nodded back at them silently.  They only needed two votes between the three of them to decide such a thing, but it was unanimous in any case.  Markus’ gaze fell on Kim, but something in his eyes held him captive as he prolonged his gaze.  The man’s bio said that he was sixty-five, but he would swear that he looked more like a man of forty-five.  Kim had yet to say anything; he seemed content to focus on negotiating his spinach salad.

  Kirsten seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.  Apparently genetic engineering didn’t interest her much, which Markus initially damned but he soon came to acknowledge that two people didn’t need to share everything in common in order to form a deep bond.  In fact, he had found that it is often times the differences between people that made relationships interesting.

  “Well,” Captain Tynes stated decidedly, “thanks for your input.  How about we meet again in the morning?  That will give you the night to consider our offer and, and we can discuss any further concerns or recommendations you might have, alright?”

  “Yes sir, sounds good.  I still have some things to take care of myself,” Markus declared as he gestured towards his food tray.  “I was planning on finishing this in my suite.”  It was a lie, but he was eager for this encounter to end so that he could retreat to the safety and privacy of his room and thoroughly process the experience.  While he got up he added, “good evening sirs, it was very nice to meet you all.” He put on a smile, turned to leave and exited the dining hall, heading for his room to eat his now cold steak sandwich.

  

  ‘Do I really want to be a department head?’ he thought as he wandered down the corridor towards his suite.   He had been looking forward to taking on as little responsibility as possible, something of an early retirement.   Being idle and staying relaxed were never Markus’ strong suits though.  He had never had to work on Earth, no one did, but Markus had nonetheless worked hard all of his life.  It was a matter of pride and self-respect, but it was also a matter of staving off a profound and penetrating boredom, and taking on this responsibility appealed to him for the same reasons.  There was something else which he felt though.

  He was quickly noticing that the people he was meeting here on the ship were a different kind of people from those he tended to run into down on Earth on a day to day basis.  They were different in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on… not yet, anyway.  They were more… his kind of people somehow.  Whatever it was that he really liked about Hugh, he could feel the people here saturated with it too.   He was feeling increasingly comfortable with the idea of becoming ever more involved with this tight little community.  He understood that if he truly wished to integrate with this crew, assuming the position and responsibilities offered to him would be a great way to start.