Randolph Lalonde - Triton – 01

“Good, good. So what's this I hear about you processing clone rights forms?”

“I'll be honest. I'm doing damage control here and I need help. Admiral Rice is threatening to cancel a sensitive project that involves some of her daughter's genetic material,” he said, continuing in a gentle tone.

“How far along are we talking?”

“I'm being honest and forthcoming with you here, Pete, it's important this doesn't get out the wrong way.”

“We've known each other a long time, I'll keep it under wraps until it's safe to shed light on whatever this is.”

Doctor Anderson sent Peter a holographic image of Ayan in the artificial womb.

He took a moment to look at it and his eyes went wide. “Is that who I think it is?”

“In a way. I've managed to create a perfect generation of her with no genetic modifications. She's been created from base historical genetic code. I used the new age modification and memory implementation technology we acquired a few years ago.”

“Admiral Rice might shut you down? Now? That's her daughter in there for all intents and purposes. When will you be birthing her?”

“Next week, sooner if there are no signs of neural fatigue. I don't want her mother within ten light years of here when it happens. In fact, I don't want her to see Ayan until she decides she's ready to meet with her mother.”

“You know I can do that for you, but it'll be political war. Admiral Rice still has friends here, and outside of dealings with Regent Galactic or Jonas Valent, she has a lot of power. Just getting her reassigned again-”

“I know, I'm asking a lot. You know me Pete, I wouldn't even mention it if it weren't life or death.”

Peter thought quietly while looking at the hologram of the young woman then nodded. “I'll get my staff on it now. We'll have to vilify Admiral Rice to justify access restriction and reassignment. There's no way back on this once it's done.”

“There's been a lot of that going around. I'm sending you a classified security clip from just a few minutes ago that should take care of vilification,” he selected and forwarded Admiral Rice threatening to pull the plug then went on. “Thank you Peter. This makes us more than even.”

“You know it. Just make sure this young lady knows how many people helped her get her freedom, and that she deserves it.”

“Knowing Ayan, she'll thank every one of you in person.”

“I bet she would. You know she's going to be popular, right Doc? The only human alive without genetic enhancements. Who knew we'd have to take a thousand steps backwards to take a meaningful step forward.”

“I did.”

“And that's why my kids grew up with you as their family doctor,” Peter laughed. “Well, I'm not sleeping tonight, I'll start working on this right away. Admiral Rice won't be able to so much as set foot in Freedom Tower by morning.”

“Thank you again,” Doctor Anderson smiled. The communication closed and he started the Summer movement of Vivaldi's Four Seasons. “Just because you favour Wagner doesn't mean you shouldn't experience other composers,” he said to her quietly.

Ayan shifted in her peaceful chamber, moving her head closer to the sound.

Anderson smiled and looked at her closed eyes. “You have a long, interesting life ahead of you. I can't wait to meet you again.”

A miracle of modern technology. There was no other way to describe it. At its core was a reserve mass reactor with enough fuel to last over thirty years. From there it was easy to wire up one of the materializers, and using the materializer it was even simpler to create high efficiency lighting.

The rest, well, the rest was a little more difficult. The problem with being trapped in an old reactor room that had been turned into a garden was that you had all kinds of plants all around. The materializer could produce water, food, but no living matter. Once those plants died that was it, there was no bringing them back.

Not knowing much of anything about taking care of plants, he started with watering them regularly. After nearly killing all the tomato plants he finally got the right idea. Plants don't like to drown.

His living space consisted of five levels of grated decking with a couple storage closets and a nice flat floor across the bottom. The mass reactor was built into the center, right on top of the main bracing for the infrastructure.

After three years his thumb finally turned green and a few months after that the materializer was making a fourth composting bin section by section and a few new flower pots. Another two years passed and Minh-Chu found himself laughing aloud as he laid out another pot filled with fresh earth. His hair had grown long, his patience longer, and as he drifted through the absolute black of space with only two small windows to see through, he found himself wondering if anyone would ever find him.

The vines crawled up the sides of his home, every meal included natural foods. The three apple trees he had started with stretched up to the middle of the third deck, the tomatoes yielded a wonderful crop, several squashes did the same and his favourite, the rhubarb nearly grew out of control.

He had been trapped in a place of peace, he realized before long, and after a few years he managed to embrace that peace. There were a few things to read on his command and control unit and he managed to go through everything of interest, and some things not so interesting after five years.

He started entertaining himself by imagining all the things his friends might have gotten up to while he was trapped in a section of the station drifting through space. He also learned to play guitar thanks to the lessons he'd had on his materializer since he was a teenager. He'd never gotten to them but with so much time on his hands he materialized a narrow classical electrical guitar and began to learn.

When the First Light was about to puncture the research station with its wormhole generator he looked for the thickest bulkheads he could find. As luck would have it, the old reactor room was it, and he sealed himself inside. Everyone else on the station was either at combat stations or busy hopping into thin hulled escape pods.

The station sheared and twisted away from the old reactor room as it was ripped apart by the gravity circling the rough wormhole, and he was pulled in right behind the First Light. How far, he couldn't know, but it was far enough to get him clear of the Blue Belt, that's for sure. When the section of station emerged from the wormhole separate from the First Light, he was adrift. The Blue Belt couldn't be seen from any angle. After doing some math and recalling what he was able to see as he held on for dear life he was fairly certain that he had been tossed out the side of the worm hole, and there was no way for him to accurately estimate how far he had travelled.

Thanks to all that time he had to watch Jonas Valent work on his shuttle during the All-Con Conflict, and the many sessions where he'd go on about engineering marvels, he was able to wire up the materializer, life support and gravity to the emergency reactor. That was not quite the hardest part.

There were a few other compartments still attached to the one he was in. Some of them looked pressurized, his command unit said they were most likely safe, and he had a good vacsuit, but taking the unnecessary chance to explore could lead to him getting sucked out when the pressure of the two compartments tried to equalize. If there was a weak point in those outer compartments, he might get shot out into space, and he wouldn't last more than a week in a vacsuit.

He'd still stand in front of those doors for hours, just staring, considering the idea of opening them up just to beat the boredom. Then he'd consider his plants, how hard he had worked. If they were to suffer from low temperatures or decompression there would be little chance of recovery for them.