01: First Contact

  Allison

  The Triennial Innovator's Conference Committee spares no expense in welcoming Allison. A private shuttle delivers her from the Crimson Suites Hotel to a reception of reporters and StellarCorp supporters greeting her with raucous cheers. Allison hasn't felt this many eyes on her since she began her transition nearly a decade ago. She changed her name from Alexander Kessler to Allison Harper, taking on her dead brother’s name as her new surname as a reminder.

  It was a lot. And a long time ago.

  She straightens her posture and forces a smile. If her brother Harper were here, he’d tell her how proud of her he was. He’d tell her to smile. To wave. To say something humble and disarming– like it was so easy. He’d also tell her she looks damn good.

  And for once, she might even agree. For the occasion, she's chosen a deep forest green dress, accented with her mother's silver necklace and amethyst earrings, her naturally curly hair styled in its usual chaotic bun that teases at coming undone.

  To Allison's dismay, they have done everything except roll out the proverbial red carpet. The grand conference hall bursts into applause as she enters through its enormous mahogany doors, the countless skylights overhead and dozens of corporate stalls stretching out before her. Prestigious companies like StarWise Dynamics and NovaTech occupy prime positions near the front, while the stage is decorated in the beige and navy blue of StellarCorp. As the din of conversation resumes, Allison finds herself suddenly missing the anonymity she never realized she cherished until recently.

  “Doctor Harper,” a familiar voice calls from nearby.

  "Sara?" Allison asked, turning from the grand marble pillars to see her friend in an elegant sapphire maxi dress, her short dark hair framing her delicate features in a stylish pixie cut. "Lieutenant Ramirez, that is you, isn’t it?"

  "In the flesh," Sara replies with her characteristic ready smile. Despite her short, petite frame, she carries herself with the unmistakable confidence of military bearing.

  “I’ll say!” Allison leans in and offers the customary kiss on each cheek. “I hardly recognize you without the uniform.”

  “Not surprising,” Sara chuckles. “I hardly wear anything else.”

  Allison steps back, taking in her friend.

  “It suits you,” Allison says with a warm smile.

  “You’re looking especially less corporate as well, doctor.”

  “Sara,” Allison chides. “You and I are well past formalities.”

  “You started it.”

  Allison laughs, “Fair enough. Have they promoted you to Captain yet?”

  “Not yet,” Sara says, raising an eyebrow, “But speaking of promotions… is Olivia still after you for VP?”

  “Please.” Allison rolls her eyes, waving her hand in the air as if to shoo the idea from the air I’ve told around her. “I’ve told her a hundred times I belong in the lab, not the Vice President's office. Besides, can you imagine me giving political speeches? It’s bad enough that I’m going to be keynote speaker."

  “To the entire Federation’s scientific community no less,” Sara points out, taking Allison’s arm and walking her toward the aisles and aisles of tech showcases.

  “Shame,” Allison trails off, her eyes drifting to the very first display, but Sara steers them away.

  “There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, I am to escort you to your room.”

  “My room?”

  “You are the key-note speaker after all. They’ve given you your own green-room to get away from it all.”

  Allison has to admit the quiet space sounds enticing. But now that she is amongst the crowd, overhearing the bits and pieces of detailed presentations, she is suddenly wanting to be a part of it. This has always been the part of the conference she looks forward to the most. The lingering, the listening to the passionate voices of innovation, the forward progress of humanity. All in one room.

  “So are you my security detail?”

  “Part of it.”

  Allison pauses again, drawn to the latest discovery on wormhole mechanics.

  “Allison,” Sara groans. “Allison… Doctor. Harper.”

  “But they’ve accounted for the Skipaldi variance! Sara, this could lead to-”

  “Do I need to carry you?” Sara’s voice took on her scolding, military tone.

  She lingers a moment longer than necessary, letting the quiet hum of the display wash over her. If only her brother were here– he’d be knee-deep in the data by now, drafting an impromptu paper in his head. He’d look at her with his huge smile and parrot her words right back to her, ‘The Skipaldi variance!’

  Allison crumples up her face, but then grins, playfully touching Sara on the nose.

  “Yes, please.”

  Sara sighs, “Fifteen years you’ve known me. You think you’d catch on.”

  “I’m not your type, I know. You like your women like you like your men.”

  “And how’s that?” Sara asks with a chuckle.

  “You don’t.”

  The two share a laugh and survey the chaotic scene before them.

  “Two whole days,” Allison says, trying to sigh away her stress. “Of science!”

  “I am not drunk enough for this,” Sara says gloomily.

  “Wait, are there drinks?”

  ***

  Allison begins to feel more at ease once the excitement surrounding her arrival dies down. It’s easier to explore the different showcases without constant congratulations about StellarCorp’s upcoming presentation. She starts by revisiting the Wormhole exhibit, presented by one of the fastest growing start-ups, Universal Gravity. Why they have chosen to let their newest engineer, a bright-eyed, adorable little thing in a poorly fitted suit, present their groundbreaking findings is beyond her. And much to the poor man’s chagrin, Allison’s first question is asking him to explain how they account for the Skipaldi Variance. He doesn’t seem to have the answer, however, and Allison kindly asks him about the results of their technology instead. Half-listening, and resigned to snagging a digital copy of their paper, Allison swipes her handbag over the company’s podium to a sweet chime. She quietly reminds him that nearly everyone is going to ask about the variance, and if he wants to survive the two-day conference, he should best brush up on their forty pages of findings. Allison has half a mind to review the paper herself, just to give him the answer and save him the night of stress. But she has enough on her mind, so instead Allison meanders on through the exhibits, asking thoughtful questions, marveling at the genius of humankind on display in vast array of presentations.

  Up ahead by the stage Allison notices NovaTech’s grandiose stall. They always compensate for their lackluster presentations with flashy displays and over-the-top visuals. Allison can make out the obnoxious sound effects from several stalls away. It nearly drowns out the poor lab-coat, chemist-looking scientist trying to answer Allison’s question on stabilizing FTL travel sickness, a field she is keen on seeing advance. She never enjoys her trips back to the Sol system. It can leave her reeling for days, like this trip. Motion-sickness on steroids. She has enough trouble entering and leaving the atmosphere on conventional thrusters, but FTL travel is its own beast. She longs to get back to her research station, tucked away in a tiny section of space near Proxima Centauri.

  Sara follows Allison's gaze to the next exhibit. "Everyone's still amazed at what you and Olivia accomplished at StellarCorp, you know. You took those corporate assholes down and made it look easy." She smirks. "Stakeholders everywhere are afraid an Olivia presidency means they'll lose 80% of their profit shares."

  "That's not really my area of expertise," Allison deflects, uncomfortable with the reminder of her role in StellarCorp's dramatic restructuring. It was a different time in her life, with different priorities. Olivia has always been so charismatic.

  "You really did do it just for the R&D budget, didn't you?" Sara asks with a knowing laugh.

  Allison chuckles, but beneath the smile a wave of guilt crashes over her. Either Sara doesn’t notice, or Allison keeps her emotional tells in check.

  "Most people would have just taken a massive settlement,” Sara continues, “but you– you had to go and revolutionize corporate ethics policy too."

  Allison's fingers unconsciously curl to form a fist. "Sometimes the only way to fix a broken system is from the inside. Olivia and I fixed it. It’s done.”

  Sara scoffs. “And now you get to play with your toys.”

  “Exactly!” Allison says cheerily, her attention drawn back in to the lab-coat wearing technician still looking at her hopefully. Allison’s homesick mind is tempted to sign up for their human trials, but she is reminded of the lackluster measures these corporations take on their path-of-least-resistance to wealth. She will have to wait for the findings and the lawsuits to settle before jumping onto that bandwagon.

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  Somewhere nearby Sara pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly bored out of her skull. Allison makes her way through the growing crowd toward the lieutenant.

  “Such is the life of a soldier,” Allison teases, nearly shouting to be heard over the growing excitement. She cannot even hear Sara’s response, but feels her aura of discontent.

  NovaTech has begun to draw a crowd. Despite her professional opinion that NovaTech’s track-record as the Federation’s leading tech company leaves much to be desired, she can’t help but feel curious. What polished up turd have they brought forward this time, she wonders. And what poor fool have they convinced to present said pile?

  Over the cacophony of chatter came the sound of an amplified and familiar voice. Allison kept up with NovaTech’s research and development program, and as much as she hates to admit it, they had finally begun to make contributions to the field after resting on their laurels for decades after producing the first ever FTL drive. The voice belongs to the lead engineer of NovaTech’s research and development division. One of the only intriguing voices riding the airwaves of technical discourse these days.

  Dr. Stone, was it?

  Allison feels a sudden twinge of frustration. Of course it would be her moment, her time to shine as the conference’s key-note speaker when NovaTech finally puts its best foot forward. Just from listening to the last year of ethical and technical panels from various conferences, Allison knows Dr. Stone possesses a keen mind. But her frustration mingles with excitement. Despite this new development and the possibly of her spotlight being diminished, rumor has it NovaTech has been working on some very promising enhancements to their FTL technology. Allison supposes it would be nice to associate a face with the voice of pseudo-reason she’s been listening to for nearly a year now.

  Making her way through the crowd, Allison reaches the front of the group. The sight of a woman in a skin-tight black dress stops her in her tracks. With a deep set v-neck that exposes enough of her breasts to be risqué choice of attire for the conference, the representative from NovaTech stands just inside the stall. She is tall, taller than Allison, with a mane of jet black hair. Falling to her waist in glossy, straight strands, it frames her face and body like a midnight waterfall. It appears almost velvety in its depth and darkness, that in a strange way reminds Allison of the very nature of space. Just like many mysteries of space, under the light of the conference hall Allison thought she could glimpse the darkest of blue and violet, adding another layer of intrigue.

  Her most striking feature, however, is her intense emerald green eyes. Like pools of liquid gemstones, they pierce right through her walls and her heart. Her features are refined and aristocratic, with high cheekbones that add to her regal aura. A straight, proud nose and perfectly arched and expertly shaped eyebrows strengthen her air of sophistication. Her lips, adorned with a soft natural shade, completes her impeccable sense of style.

  Alison finds herself stunned, if for only a brief moment. She regains her composure and steadies herself next to a nameless body.

  Oh wow, she mouths to herself.

  Can this be the face of the brilliant, articulate woman she has been listening to? Can it be the voice that unknowingly laid bare all of NovaTech’s secrets?

  The woman’s eyes lock onto Allison’s, and her mind empties. The frustration has washed away, leaving her wanting. The way this woman commands the space she stands in. It’s.. hot. Her posture, disciplined. Rigid, yet somehow relaxed. And with such confidence. Allison maintains eye contact until she feels the blood rushing to her face. Allison looks down, tucking a loose wave of hair behind her ear and taking in a stabilizing breath.

  She stares at the marbled floor until she has regained her composure. Lifting her head again, Allison sees the piercing emerald eyes still bore into her. Why hasn’t she looked away? What kind of game is she playing?Impossible.

  Allison begins to feel naked beneath the woman’s studying and analytical eyes when Sara appears at her side, rescuing her from the runaway train of thoughts and panic.

  “Oh?” Sara says quietly, her voice lingering suggestively. “Now she is your type.” Sara elbows Allison gently in the side. “Look at that! Dark, mysterious— broody even.”

  Allison swallows, casting an irritated sideways glance toward Sara. She had been caught off guard, nothing more. But the woman does not look away, and it seems that Sara is reveling in the opportunity to pick on Allison for a change.

  There are only a few feet between Allison and NovaTech’s representative. Allison fears that she— this suspected Dr. Stone— can hear Sara, or worse, read lips.

  “Is this a sparks flying situation?” Sara teases. “Or maybe she’s just sizing you up for a fight.”

  “I’d win,” Allison shoots back. “I can sick you on her.”

  Allison turns her head to hide her face.

  “Wait,” Sara says, taken aback. “Are you blushing, Allison Harper?” She nudges Allison a few more times, her head swiveling back and forth between her friend and Dr. Stone. “Oh and she absolutely knows it.”

  “For the love of God, Sara. Please.“

  Suddenly the woman blinks, looking away as her voice cuts through Allison’s embarrassment, “May I please have everyone’s attention?”

  The chatter dies down, but Sara cannot help herself, offering up an enthusiastic “Yes ma’am”.

  “My name is Dr. Evelyn Stone, Lead Engineer for NovaTech’s Research and Development Division.”

  Allison gasps for breath, unaware she has been holding it.

  The isolation of Proxima Centauri must really be getting to me.

  She doesn’t want to admit it, but Sara is right, Dr. Stone is her type. Perhaps in another life, in another timeline where Allison has the courage to approach a woman like this. A woman with a towering intellect, beautiful straight black hair, eyes that see right through Allison’s mask, and legs– legs for days. Even without her two inch heels Dr. Stone stands several inches taller than Allison, approaching if not exceeding six feet.

  Tall. Another one of Allison’s ‘types’.

  “I have the privilege to share with you the groundbreaking technology my team has been working on. One of the greatest limitations on use of FTL has been the byproduct. The realization of the Alcubierre drive has propelled us into the stars. Alpha Centauri, Bernard’s Star, the Luhman and Wolfstar systems. These are just a few of the systems we’ve expanded to quickly, with hundreds more being explored by NovaTech’s unmanned Horosha drones. But, not unlike the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, our innovations come with drawbacks.”

  Dr. Stone’s eyes settled back on Allison for a brief moment.

  “The arrival of the Hermes asteroid cluster, and with it, exotic matter, changed our fate as a species. We built our first FTL drives within three decades of its discovery. NovaTech was, and still is, one of the pioneering technology companies shaping our future. We can dramatically reduce the byproducts of engaging an FTL drive. By reducing, and eventually eliminating the dark radiation generated by using drive technology we can miniaturize its application.”

  Incredible. This opens up a whole new avenue for the production of tools and machinery using this awesome technology.

  “NovaTech remains committed to the priority of exploration, but–” There is always a but, and this is exactly what worries Allison about NovaTech. They aren’t bound by the same, strict, directive to develop drive technology for the sole purpose of exploration. Other applications have been strictly scrutinized by the Federation, and snubbed by Allison and the larger scientific community as a whole. But that doesn’t stop NovaTech.

  “The application of drive technology into the industrial and production industries could revolutionize the speed and precision with which we accomplish our shared goals. Not to mention the potential implications for the defense industry.”

  And there it is. The ‘defense’, or perhaps more aptly, the military industry. They intend to weaponize it.

  “So the rumors are true,” Sara says quietly, bobbing her head. “NovaTech’s pivoting away from exploration.”

  “Your job is about to get a lot harder,” Allison says back.

  Allison hardly listens to the rest of Dr. Stone’s presentation. She watches in horror as the bug-eyed, star-struck audience soaks in the introduction of the very thing that could be their undoing. Humanity’s track record with weaponizing a new technology always has dire consequences. And miniaturizing the drive technology will be no exception, she is sure.

  The presentation ends with a cacophony of applause, and Dr. Stone glances once again toward Allison. “Are there any questions?”

  Dr. Stone’s eyes pass over Allison, and the edges of her mouth turn upward.

  Is she smiling?

  It’s almost as if she wants Allison to challenge her, and it feels suspiciously like she is about to walk right into a skillfully laid trap.

  But… she can’t help herself.

  “How does NovaTech intend to safeguard the application of its technology?” Allison asks. “To prevent its misuse and weaponization?”

  Dr. Stone smiles, but there is a hint of something else in her eyes. Annoyance? Frustration perhaps. Allison finds that now, after she’s put herself into the ring, she has no trouble maintaining eye contact. Something ferocious stirs in her stomach. Evelyn’s smile fades, and Allison steels herself for Dr. Stone’s answer.

  “I will first point out the irony of a StellarCorp representative seeking to lecture NovaTech on its technology,” Dr. Stone replies, remaining calm and collected. “You of all people should know that our record is spotless–” Implying StellarCorp’s isn’t, and she’s not wrong.

  “But to answer your question,” Dr. Stone continues, “NovaTech and its partners are held to the highest standards. We all abide by the Federation’s rigorous regulations.”

  Unwilling to let StellarCorp be slandered, Dr. Harper fires back.

  “And I will remind you that StellarCorp abided by the very same regulations when the infamous accident claimed the lives of nearly a dozen of the Federation’s best and brightest.”

  Doctor Allison Harper, true to her laurels, doesn’t shy away from her company’s dark past. In fact, she was instrumental in changing the very bylaws that created the conditions for such a tragedy.

  “I am well aware, Dr. Harper,” Evelyn says, her voice sharp like a knife. “Are there any other question–”

  Allison isn’t finished, though, all but taking a step forward to challenge Dr. Stone. “So then you know these regulations are not enough to prevent another tragedy. So I ask again, what steps is NovaTech taking to prevent malicious actors from acquiring its technology?”

  The look in Dr. Stone’s eye shifts to something darker. Anger. Or fury. It must drive the woman mad to be challenged. Allison guesses Dr. Stone is used to being in control. Used to getting it her way. Allison smiles to herself like she’s won some grand contest. But she cannot help but feel like she struck a nerve. Dr. Stone’s piercing gaze cuts through Allison’s facade of superiority. It makes her feel challenged, naked and small, like she can’t hide anything from this woman.

  Underneath the adrenaline of challenging her rival, Allison feels something stirring. Dr. Stone isn’t shriveling. She’s not shrinking away from the challenge. Instead the doctor stands

  her ground, reticent. Allison’s cheeks feel warm. Can it be admiration? Attraction, even?

  “I assure you,” Dr. Stone finally says, her tone unchanged, strong and steady. “NovaTech takes the dissemination of its technology very seriously. Only through the greatest of vetting processes will it change hands. I invite you to share your thoughts on the matter, with your extensive experience.”

  Dr. Stone steps toward Allison, closing the distance in two long strides. Allison catches herself tensing. She feels the breath escape from her lungs as the air around her shifts with a gentle current. The wintery scent of pine wafts gently into her nostrils, which flare as she manages to breathe again.

  Allison blinks, looking up the length of Dr. Stone’s wonderfully fitted black dress to her extended hand. She’s holding a card.

  Take it. Don’t just stand there. Take it.

  It takes another moment for Allison to regain her composure, enough to extend a hand and pluck the stiff piece of cardstock from Dr. Stone’s hand. She meets those piercing, emerald eyes as they drill into her. Angry and unsettling, but also something else. Something exciting. Something hungry.

  And Allison likes it.