SS Astrid
Nation/Alliance: Unaffiliated
Captain: Cassia Lacroix
Class: Scouting
Length: 7.5 meters
Max. Population: 4 humanoid
Deck/floor count: 1
Nigel broke the silence on the Astrid, Cassia LaCroix's wormhole hunting vessel. "Not an exciting job, is it?" They had been scouting a remote sector for several weeks.
Cassia kept her eyes on the control panel. "It has its moments."
An array of probes had days earlier picked up the presence of an undiscovered wormhole in the area. Finding it was one thing, now it had to be mapped. That means figuring out where you would end up on the other side, and working out the wormhole's trajectory. wormholes are dynamic anomalies in space-time -unlike physical bodies in space, they jump erratically across vast distances, sometimes disappearing for varying periods of time. A wormhole's trajectory -bizarre, superficially random movement- needs to be mapped. A well-mapped wormhole will be predictable -and for that reason more valuable. But they can't be scanned from a distance.
"Of course," Cassia admitted to Nigel, "mapping can be tedious."
Cassia tapped away at the console, running the numbers on the wormhole data. Nigel fidgeted in his seat, unsure of how to make himself useful. "There's something I haven't been able to figure out."
"Oh Yea?" Cassia's attention remained fixed on her console, analyzing the data being fed to the Astrid through the probes. "And what's that?"
"How the heck do you make any money doing this?"
Cassia laughed. "I guess you haven't seen a sale yet?"
"Well, no. But that's not what got me thinking. I just don't understand the economics of it."
Cassia turned from the console to look towards Nigel. "It's an interesting question."
"I mean, there are thousands of Alliance mappers out there."
"At least."
"And they don't make much money at all."
"Nope -you can't working for an org' -all your data is fed back to the employer."
"So why should that make such a difference?"
"Well, let me ask you a question -why do you think both the Sol Federation and the Alliance have banned unlicensed hunting?"
"I don't know. I guess because they want to know whenever someone finds a hole."
"Yea. But why?"
"Well..." Nigel paused in thought. "It's different reasons for Alliance or Federation, I'd say." Cassia nodded as Nigel reasoned aloud. "The Federation is worried about attacks from other sectors -that's why they jam all the wormholes they find -they think they're vulnerabilities. If they can block the holes then they can prevent suprise attacks."
"Right. And the Alliance?"
"They see them as valuable -they use 'em for trade -and exploration. That's why they build the Gates."
"Okay. Now, here we are." Cassia waved her hand across the vista of stars on the viewscreen, only partially ocluded by a dense nearby asteroid belt, with a dim red star far in the distance. "An unexplored region -unexplored by Federation and Alliance, at any rate. As of this moment, we've got a partially mapped wormhole." She looked back to her console. "90% mapped," she noted, then looked back to Nigel. "It's safe to say we're the only people alive with access to this info."
"Right," Nigel slowly nodded.
"So how does that change things?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what is the value of the information, given that we're the only ones who know it? What does it change economically?"
"I don't think I follow. I mean, I suppose the Federation would view you as a potential threat-"
"Sure."
"But, I can't see that they would pay you much for the intel -after all, they hardly pay their mappers much, and they could just put you in jail for operating unlicensed -same thing goes for the Alliance."
"Yea -but I don't sell to them."
"Of course." Nigel looked confused, "Who are you selling to, anyways?"
"Well, that's one of the tough things about this job -finding a buyer. It takes time -you gotta build connections, know where to look, know who's buying. You can't just advertise that you've found a hole from point A to point B -then everyone would know where it is."
"Right. So how do you do it?"
"Blue Sky is a good spot to look for buyers. Once you're connected -tapped into the underground channels- you get word from different... Business associates. I don't ask too many questions about my buyers, but there's interest from different groups."
Nigel seemed lost in thought. "But who's willing to pay enough to make it worthwhile?"
"Let me put it this way -you play poker?"
"Not really. But I know how it works."
"Well, imagine if everyone's cards are visible -no hidden information. Then whoever has the best hand takes the pot. There's no strategy, no bluffing, no reading your opponent. All that matters is the strength of your hand. Right?"
"Right."
"Same thing here -when a wormhole is public knowledge, the big players take the pot -so to speak. Alliance or Federation will stake a claim, bring the big guns, lock down the wormhole -now they're in charge. But if you can keep your cards secret, then you can play the game. You can outplay your opponent. You can bluff. You can beat them -even if they have a better hand. Or even if they have bigger guns."
"Okay."
"The point I am making is that secrecy is inherently valuable -the fewer people that share your information, the more valuable it is."
"That makes sense." Nigel smiled and nodded. "Okay. So how exactly does that play out? With wormholes, I mean."
"Let's say you're a cybernetics dealer. You get yourself a private hole. Now suddenly you can move your products without anyone knowing. Or you're smuggling, now you can offer a service that no one else can. Or say there's a blockade and you need to get supplies in the back door...
...Now, we don't know where this hole goes yet," Cassia motioned to the viewscreen, "but when we find out, we can try to find a buyer. For someone, this hole could be a huge advantage. One well-positioned wormhole could make you the top smuggler in the region, or even turn the tables in a war." Nigel nodded along. "But that value disappears as soon as the location becomes more widely known. Basically, we're not getting paid to find wormholes -we're getting paid to be the only ones who know about it."
"Got it." Nigel smiled. "Well, thanks for the lesson."
"No problem."
Wormhole was a bit of a misnomer. It implied a two-way trip. When they were first discovered, they'd been called Hawking-Relativity-Funnels. The 'funnel' metaphor was a bit better than 'holes' -funnels are one way, and the spatial anomalies worked more like that. With a properly calibrated tunneling field, you would end up somewhere else -sometimes even another galaxy- with no way back until you found another hole. Maybe slingshot would have been an even better metaphor. Of course, it was a lot easier to talk about 'holes' than 'Hawking-Relativity-Funnels'. The erroneous term had stuck.
Cassia looked down to her console and noticed an anomalous reading. "You see that?" she motioned to the console.
"Yea," Nigel brought his hands down to his station and began tapping at the console. "I noticed it earlier. Kind of looks like a corona ejection."
"-Or a thruster signature?"
"Theoretically, I guess it could be. But it doesn't look like there's any ships in the area -shouldn't be anyone out here."
"Better be safe anyways. Let's pull out for now."
"Sure. Recalling probes." Nigel swiftly tapped a command into the console. The array of probes that had been deployed in the surrounding space activated their thrusters and began heading towards the Astrid.
"No!"
"What?"
"Cancel the recall!"
"Alright, alright!" Nigel tapped his station, and the probes deactivated. "Sorry, I just thought we should-"
"-Shit. This could be bad." Cassia worriedly kept her eyes locked on the scanners.
"What's wrong?"
"The vectors." Cassia muttered with dismay, "the probe vectors. They'll point right to us."
"Oh, Shit. Sorry. I didn't think-"
"-No, it's not your fault. I should've told you before. It's a precaution -leave the probes if someone might be around."
"Sorry."
"It's okay, maybe there's no one out there."
The sensors lit up with the presence of more than a dozen ships, surrounding the Astrid at a distance.
"Mangeroma." Cassia announced, as she interpreted the scanner readings. "Swarmers -they're in attack formation"
"Where'd they come from?"
"They were cloaked," Cassia asserted, "waiting for us."
"Maybe they just want to talk?"
"They dropped cloak so they can power their weapons."
"What do they want?"
"What do you think they want?", Cassia shouted, "the wormhole."
"What do we do?" Nigel brought his hands to the sides of his face.
"We get to work." Cassia looked over to Nigel. "I guess it's your turn to show me how you earn a living."
"Right." Nigel composed himself and set his hands at the console. "Arrays up. Shield battery charging. Horos armed. Mines ready."
"Send a comm' to our backup with these coordinates. Tell 'em the bonus is double -a hundred-thirty-k."
"Got it."
"Send 'em the map for the hole, too."
"You're sure?"
"Yea."
"Why?"
"Cause that's our way out -if we can make it."
---- Author's Note ----
Let me know what you thought of this chapter in the comments below. I appreciate any and all feedback. Hearing reactions from readers is the most rewarding part about writing.
I am very appreciative of your support.
Sincerely,
David