Parapoints

By George. E. Smith

Parapoints is a mainstream science fiction novel set in a future reality. These orbital artefacts, originally discovered by bioships, link inhabited planets by instantaneous travel. Dubois, a navigator, trader and recruiter for PRDX, enters one and, uniquely, exits fifteen years late. His subsequent adventures include being inducted into an organisation dedicated to discovering the creators of parapoints. This leads him to discover the reason for his lost years. He learns that parapoints were created in an alternate reality and work in ours by happenstance. He finds himself at the centre of a web of intrigue with its roots in prehistory and dark consequences for the future.
This novel was inspired by the work of Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke, in particular their elegant use of dialogue to develop characters and create compelling images of the worlds and universes they inhabit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: George. E. Smith
• Release date: Oct 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301411337

George. E. Smith

I was born in 1952 and lived my first nine years in the centre of Sheffield among the noise and fumes of cutlery factories. My childhood home and playground is now a Sheffield University car park. We moved to a Cheshire village where I learned to read and write, spending happy times at schools in Marple and Glossop, failing to qualify for anything but demonstrating some aptitude for science and literature. A penchant for chemistry drove me to apply to ICI and, almost by accident, I became an organic chemist, working by day and studying by night. After six years of cloistered existence waiting for dead men's shoes, I resigned to become a pharmaceutical sales representative (or drug rep as they are more commonly known). The work consisted of visiting doctors in the morning, eating in posh restaurants at lunchtime and playing squash in the afternoon. I demonstrated an aptitude for this so was promoted to training manager. After ten years of exemplary service I was made redundant during one of the many pharmaceutical company mergers. I established a training company at the start of the '90s and eventually diversified into I.T. documentation and training. My relationship with a computer company blossomed and I managed Whitehall infrastructure projects on their behalf. I believe some of my best fiction is in those project plans. The last few years have been dedicated to realising long held ambitions... living in a different country, getting back to making music and writing what I really want to write – science fiction.

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PARAPOINTS

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By

George E Smith

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

George E Smith on Smashwords

Parapoints

Copyright © 2012 by George E Smith

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. All characters are figments of the author’s imagination and fictitious.

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PARAPOINTS

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Chapter 1

System directory - G4V- 4.17394-2-2(b) / H9062-3-80(r).Planetary class – M 0.95- D 0.8- E 10.35- MST 30.5. Known locally as Dustball. High beryllium surface content, hence major export. Minimal population centred on spaceport.

Dubois scanned the horizon as he walked down the gangway. ‘Dustball’ was about right. Low hills in the distance. Photovoltaic converters glittering on all sides. Round the port a few hardy plants struggled to find water. The city, if that’s what you could call it, was to the west in a small depression.

His payload was in geosynchronous orbit above takedown. He’d called the lift managers and handed over responsibility. The lagrangian calculations were easy, no moon. Comet harvest was rewarding work and water found its way to the ecosystem, no matter who paid for it. The deal was finalised and the credit in his account. Never trust planetary conglomerates. He’d learned the hard way. Touchdown was on the same pad. The ‘port hadn’t changed, not that he expected any. ‘Ports were the first places established, and only expanded when justified. This one looked down-at-heel; not exactly neglected, but uncared for. A bit like the planet, he thought, just enough to live, but a struggle. A hard life

It was a tricky return. Two years elapsed for him, seventeen on the planet. He’d unfinished business and, unusually, felt nervous. The bar looked the same. When a planet was settled, a bar was usually the first commerce. Something to do with the human condition, he thought, and went in. A youth was serving.

Beer please.

Credit first, came the automatic reply.

Things difficult ‘round here?

We’ve been caught once or twice and can’t afford to subsidise customers, said a voice from the corner. He’s only doing his job.

Dubois looked at the woman and smiled, an automatic response. It was Eleanor. Seventeen years had been kind, kinder than he thought possible. She stared at him with tears in her eyes.

You termite, she said. How come you look the same!

You wouldn’t believe me.

Try me.

I’m a trader. An error took me into a new system. One day there became fifteen years here.

A tall story, sobbed Eleanor. An excuse. She turned away.

Genuine, said Dubois. Look at me! I try to keep my word. I expected to be back.

You said fifteen years. What kept you?

The Corporation, said Dubois They wouldn’t let me leave. I got here as soon as I could. It’s the truth.

William, two beers, said Eleanor, drying her eyes.

O.K., Ma.

Sit down, Dubois.

Well, you can’t be so heartbroken if you’ve a son.

Eleanor looked at him strangely, and then gave him a slap that all but knocked him from his chair.You worm! She screamed. How easy do you think it is bringing up a boy alone?

Should I ask him to leave, Ma?

No, Will, he owes us big time.

What do you mean, I owe you? said Dubois.

Figure it out, smart guy. Same bar, same woman, young bartender.

That’s impossible.

Why? You stay six months. You told me forever. You leave. I bring up the kid.

I’m sterile.

You’re not... another lousy excuse.

No.

Yes! And I’m sure. There was no one else. William, say hello to your father.

They stood in silence for what seemed forever then Dubois sat down heavily.

Sorry, he said, head downcast. Had I dreamt this possible I wouldn’t have left, not even for two weeks.

Better, but still not believable.

They felt the vibration of a ship touching down. Will walked to the bar and held his hand out to catch a glass as it slid off the counter.

Does he do that often? said Dubois.

All the time, she said proudly, Never lose a glass unless a customer breaks it.

I must do some checking. Can I have a hair from you both?

What for?

Genetic testing, I’ll be back in an hour.

Like last time, Termite. Anyway, it’s not a problem now. FAL have offered Will a job. At least he can get off Dustball and make something of himself.

FAL have seen him do the glass thing?

That’s why they want him.

I’ll be back soon, I promise! You’re in danger. As soon as FAL realise I’m here they’ll ask you to leave. Don’t trust them. They’re not good people.

You’re good?

I deserve that, but I’m trying to help. Please trust me. He took a strand of hair from both and ran back to his ship. The FAL vessel stood next to his. On the bridge he opened his laboratory. Genetic analysers are not standard equipment, but this was no standard ship. He introduced William’s sample and paced impatiently, then added Eleanor’s and his own profile and compared the results. Will was their son and carried the sequence. Dubois could hardly believe it. He sat down and thought, ‘If only I’d known. This could have been so easy. Got to get back.’

He returned to find the bar locked, so peered through the tinted door. It looked tidy, the chairs on tables as if to clean the floor. He started to walk away then noticed something - broken glass. No accident. He walked round the corner to find an old transport being loaded with personal belongings.

Where’s Eleanor going, he asked the driver, and who’s taking over, it’s time for my afternoon beer.

Dunno, retiring I guess, he said laconically, to the suburbs.

You’ve an address?

In the cab, he said.

Dubois scribbled the address and ran to the ship to get his land scooter. The ‘port was suddenly busy. When he reached his ship he found out why. Red tape and ‘No Entry’ signs all around and the Security Manager waiting on the gangway.

What’s this about? asked Dubois.

Orders of the Executive Council. This ship is impounded. He smiled smugly.

Why?

Don’t know. I’m just following orders. See the Port Controller.

Where is he?

In his office.

Can I get my land scooter?

Sorry, no entry.

Dubois hurried to the Port Controller’s office. He judged Harry an honest man, the type that makes a ‘port work. An antidote to the usual smug, lying grafters.

Council don’t approve of you, Dubois, he said.

What’s the allegation?

Karducomide smuggling.

You know that’s ridiculous. Why would a PRDX trader run drugs?

Harry shrugged, They’ve evidence you were negotiating to buy on your last planet.

It’s a put-up job. My last planet was PRDX homeworld. It‘s been clean for years.

I know, but I have to conform ‘til you’ve proven otherwise.

Who's on the Council? Dubois asked.

To be honest, said Harry, it doesn’t matter. Vinson runs it.

Ah, The FAL manager.

That’s him.

Am I under arrest?

Not that I’ve heard.

Can I hire a land scooter?

You can borrow mine if you’re careful with it. Harry handed over the key.

Thanks, I owe you, said Dubois.

He ran to the scooter, programmed the address and mulled things over as he rode. Eleanor and Will didn’t know about FAL and their recruitment deceptions. They didn’t know he recruited for PRDX. He’d a lot of explaining to do, and wasn’t sure he’d get the chance.

When the proximity indicator showed two hundred metres he spotted the transport outside the last in a row of identical apartments. A quick look around confirmed what he feared. No choice, No options. All Dustball dwellings have a single entrance. He parked the scooter and went to the door.

As he rang a he felt a foreboding. He’d experienced this before but never so strongly. Eleanor answered looking awful. Hello, she muttered, her eyes downcast. Come in.

Dubois sensed her fear and the presence behind her but could only comply. I’ll help, he mouthed as he passed her.

As the door closed three men emerged. The one with the stun seemed in charge.

You’re not as smart as we thought, Dubois. We’ve told the lady who you work for and why you’re here.

Who are you?

Falcone.

Ah, yes, I’ve heard you’re an effective recruiter. How many have you converted?

He punched Dubois in the kidneys, and as he stumbled pushed him with Eleanor into a back room where Will lay on the floor. They frisked him then locked and bolted the door.

Well, we’re in a corner, said Dubois, easing his back against the wall. How did Will get hurt?

They were pushing me to shut the bar and he tried to stop them. They used the stun.

He’ll be O.K. in an hour or so.

I’m sort of O.K. already, but I kept quiet, said Will.

Good, said Dubois.

Can you please tell us what’s going on?

Yes, said Dubois, but it’s not straightforward. You need some background.

Then get on with it, said Eleanor impatiently, There’s not much else to do. We’re listening.

It goes back to the time before parapoints, when travel was restricted to the lifetime radius of Earth. They believed the frontier could be expanded by developing human perception. Three lines of research were followed; drugs, augmentation and, unknown to most, selective breeding.

Tell us something we don’t know, said Eleanor. I learned this at school. Will and Dubois looked at her curiously. It’s not common knowledge. Regular schools don’t teach it. Did you learn this, Will?

No.

You must’ve got it somewhere, said Dubois.

I’ve a memory of learning it but can’t remember where, she said, turning away.

Interesting, said Dubois, who continued, The lines of research became increasingly focussed. The drugs program developed mind expanding substances, most of which ended up as recreational relaxants. Whole populations succumbed to drug induced nirvana and the program was aborted. The legacy continues with karducomide, but the knowledge has been lost. They simply follow old recipes. That’s why disasters happen.

What disasters?

Incidents like the poison planet, LiMet 2 said Dubois. All human life paralysed when they discarded a faulty batch into the environment. Manufacturers and smugglers are endlessly pursued. Incidentally, my ship has been impounded because I’m accused of karducomide smuggling.

Any truth in it? said Eleanor.

I saw LiMet2 said Dubois. No-one who’s visited will ever touch drugs.

The pain left his face and he continued; The augmentation program showed most initial promise. They developed neural extension science that allowed seamless connection with machines. Synaptic linkage became common and was used to control all manner of devices and vehicles, including spaceships. The problems began when links were severed. Disconnected ‘ship controllers developed psychoses and some simply curled up and died because they’d lost their ‘ship.

So what happened? asked Will.

The program was abandoned and the worst cases permanently reconnected. But, he continued, No-one realised a fanatical sub-sect continued work. They developed permanent synaptic connection. You’ve heard of the bioships. Some are famous and still working. Most you don’t hear about and are very sad."

This was all a long time ago, said Eleanor.What’s it got to do with us?

I’m getting to that; you need to understand the selective breeding programme. Eugenics has always been frowned on, even illegal. Nevertheless geneticists tried to select for extrasensory perception. It started as a voluntary program with big financial and lifestyle incentives for participants with exceptional abilities - things like photographic memory, outstanding prescience, mathematical and musical genius. They created some very talented people, but no new abilities."

So what happened?

The research team experimented with gene manipulation. Genes from creatures with acuity and intelligence such as dolphins and whales were introduced without the participants’ knowledge. The results were horrendous - miscarriages and deformities became widespread. Eventually someone with a conscience broke ranks and the truth came out. In the riots that followed the program records were destroyed

We still haven’t got to why we’re here, said Will.

We’re getting there, said Dubois, "it’s important you understand the background because it explains the essential difference between FAL and PRDX.

Augmentation by synaptic connection was used to overcome disabilities and deformities caused by the gene splicing. In many cases it was the only way out of a personal hell. Some became bioships, and they discovered parapoints. Their altered and augmented perception combined with unique genetic structure enabled them to visualise them. At first, they weren’t believed, but when three bioships vanished people took notice."

So what happened to them said Will.

They were lost, but other bioships demonstrated parapoint perception and could ‘see’ where they led. They found their way to other planets and returned. The potential was quickly realised and the search was on for people capable of visualising parapoints.

So why me, why am I here? said Will.

Visualisation and transit of parapoints is limited to final generation descendents of the selective breeding program. All navigators are products of the genetic program.

I can see parapoints?

I’m certain you’ll be able to see them. You’re my son. I’m a product of the genetic program. So is Eleanor, even though she wasn’t aware of it. The tests I did prove that. You’re prescient; an ideal candidate. That makes you a potential bioship.

I don’t know whether I like the sound of that, said Will.

No, Said Dubois, I don’t expect they told you that.

They said I’d train as a navigator.

The truth, but not the whole truth, said Dubois.

So what do we do? said Eleanor.

Falcone told you I work for PRDX. That’s true. I recruit for them as well as trade. PRDX don’t practice permanent synaptic connection. Ships are piloted by people like me - navigators. They developed the navigator’s helmet as an alternative. I need to ask formally whether you’ll come to PRDX for tests. If Will proves capable, PRDX will offer him training.

So what do you do? What’s your job? said Eleanor.

I do work as a navigator and trader, but it’s a convenient cover for finding and recruiting potential navigators. I do much the same as Falcone, but always offer my candidates a choice.

Can we trust you? said Eleanor My experience is that you stay six months, vanish, and come back twenty years later looking the same.

Sometimes events conspire against you, said Dubois sadly. Like I said, I expected to be away for two weeks. I’d been asked to observe and recruit a potential navigator. On the way to her planet I took an uncharted ‘point. Navigation still isn’t an exact science. It led to a planet much like Dustball but the starcharts couldn’t identify my position. I investigated, took readings and returned. When I got back I’d been posted as missing and had to return to PRDX for debrief. They’re interested in time anomalies. We tried to reproduce the event but the ‘point I took worked totally as expected. We couldn’t recreate it. When they released me I came to find you.

They heard footsteps approaching and fell silent. Falcone.

We’re leaving now, he said. Be very co-operative.

And if not? said Will.

Then you’ll never find out if you’ll make a navigator.

As they were taken and locked in the removal transport the driver saluted him ironically.

Thanks, said Dubois.

They were waved through to the ‘port without inspection and locked in a room behind the FAL loading bay. When Falcone went to arrange departure Dubois took off his belt and opened a panel at the back of the buckle.

What’re you doing? said Will.

Sometimes in my line of work a diversion is required, smiled Dubois. We’re going to create a little disruption. He pressed a microswitch. The emergency klaxon on his ship sounded, triggering spaceport emergency procedures. Dubois re-buckled his belt. Port staff began evacuation checks. They heard a heated conversation outside the room so hammered on the door and shouted, then heard a thud. The Port Controller was bundled into the room and the door re-locked. He sat against the wall and grimaced, rubbing his head. Falcone bellowed orders outside.

What the hell’s going on! shouted Harry.

I can’t explain quickly, said Dubois, but we’ve been kidnapped by FAL and they’re trying to get us off-planet. We need to get out of here.

I’ll be missed soon, said Harry. When I’m released I’ll testify against these thugs.

That’s alright for you, but it seems they’ll stop at nothing to get us off, said Dubois. That’s why I kicked off the alert.

As he said it the klaxons stopped and a hush fell over the port.

How did you start it? said Harry.

Dubois showed him the belt buckle.

What else can it do?

Not much. Open the gangway and cargo hatch, and commence prelaunch.

Geared for a quick getaway... what are you up to, Dubois?

I’m trying to stop a kidnapping.

Will the launch sequence complete if you initiate?

No, it needs someone on board.

Start it, said Harry. They’ll look for me if your ship goes live.

Ten minutes later they heard voices in an adjacent room and started yelling. A thug came in with a stun in his hand. Harry hit him once in the back and he went down.

Where did you learn that? said Dubois.

I wasn’t always a fat controller. He grinned. Back to my office.

They passed the other thug struggling between two guards. Falcone was nowhere to be seen.

We need to call the police, said Harry.

That’s doesn’t work for us, said Dubois, Vinson has them in his pocket.

Here comes Falcone, said Will, pointing through the window. He looks annoyed.

We must get to my ship, said Dubois. How...?

Backtrack the corridors to the loading bays… but the ship is clamped - and where’s my scooter?

Dubois threw him the paper with the address and shouted Follow me! at Will and Eleanor. They ran to the loading bay nearest his ship. It was going dusk so they kept in the shadows. Falcone stood in an adjacent bay. Dubois used his belt to open the ship’s main hatch. Come on, said Dubois. We must get on board.

Crouching low, they ran up the gangplank into the ship. Falcone loosed a shot but too late. Dubois sealed the door.

So we’re locked in a clamped ship, said Eleanor. How clever is that?

This time I do have a plan, said Dubois, pressing buttons in the airlock. A door opened and they crowded into a lift, emerging onto a control deck. Not the deck of a freighter. This was altogether smaller. Dubois folded seats out of the wall and told them to strap in.

All set, he said, and called ’port control.

Dubois here. Request permission to lift.

You’re clamped and impounded. Permission denied!

We lift in five minutes, he replied calmly. Clear the area. I don’t want anyone hurt.

Dubois activated external cameras. I see guards approaching, he said. Call them back immediately.

He ran pre-ignition for the freighter. They turned and ran for the emergency tunnels.

When the area was clear he radioed. Take off in three minutes.

You’re mad, Dubois, came the reply. You’ll destroy your ship and the pad!

Dubois busied himself with last minute checks.

We can’t take off, said Will, who’d watched freighters come and go all of his life. A clamped ship will burn out on the pad.

We open the nose of the freighter, said Dubois.

And? said Will.

The core is a needleship. It uses the freighter as a launch pad.

He made a final call. Lift in thirty seconds.

The freighter nose opened slowly, scattering debris. Dubois fed power to the engines. They felt acceleration and Dubois switched a screen to tail view. The burned out hulk of the freighter, then the ‘port, grew smaller.

Shame about my ship, said Dubois. It was home for a long time.

Chapter 2

System directory G2V - 3.42578-3-10(i) / H9062-3-95(g)

Planetary class – M 1.02- D 1.03- E 12.05- MST 25.0

PRDX Homeworld, usually known as PRDX. Administrative base for the PRDX Corporation.

Dubois was busy for the best part of an hour, bringing systems on-line and balancing the environmental system for three. It was akin to commissioning a new ship. Eleanor and Will talked quietly, trying to make sense of the day’s events.

When orbit was established Dubois turned to them with a sigh and said; I’m really sorry about today. I simply came to apologise and make my peace.

You think you’ve got problems, said Will. I’ve been kidnapped by a man who my mother claims to be my father and I’m wanted on my home planet!

Shut up! snapped Eleanor. You could have been a bioship. What made you think you were sterile, Dubois?

The insertions associated with the eugenics programme reduce compatibility. I was told I was sterile. You’ve similar insertions that make us compatible. The chance is miniscule.

So what does that make me, some kind of freak? said Will.

No, it makes you unusual, possibly unique, said Dubois, and very much in demand... I must say you’ve handled today really well.

A muted alarm sounded and the screen zoomed to an approaching ship. The intercom cut in: Alter course for station six. You’ll be returned to the planet to adjudicate your actions.

Those are your police, said Dubois. You can go back if you want. If I take you without consent it makes me no better than FAL. Eleanor and Will talked in hushed tones.

What’s the alternative, said Eleanor.

Come to PRDX homeworld and be assessed. Will has the potential to be a navigator. I can’t be certain what you’ll do but everyone is offered a role.

"Alter course or we’ll take action to ensure compliance."

Does it mean we’ll be separated, said Will.

Not permanently, but periodically, especially if you train as a navigator.

What about housing and credits? said Eleanor.

PRDX supports newcomers until they find a role, said Dubois, but in this case you’d be my guests.

"Commencing action."

Eleanor and Will whispered as Dubois watched the screen with increasing concern.

Decision time, he said.

"Prepare airlock."

We’ll go with you, said Eleanor, if you promise to help your son.

I’d already assumed that, said Dubois as he hit a console key.

The needleship pulled gently away from the airlock tube.

"Dubois, rematch velocity immediately."

Dubois increased thrust and smiled. The security controller was in command of the police vessel. Tell Vinson and Falcone I’ll file a full report of their activities, he radioed, and started the main engines. The flextube disintegrated and the pursuit ship went into a spin. Serves you right, said Dubois and clicked off the radio. Let’s go to PRDX.

Parapoints are located on planetary orbit opposed to the planet. If a system has more than one, they are different colours and separated by a planetary diameter. They have no apparent mass. Dustball has two. The journey from Dustball to PRDX involves two transits, the first to a system classed as a ‘hub’, then a further transit to reach PRDX.

Dubois began preparations. Please don’t disturb me during transit, he told them. You’ll not see anything, but distractions can lead to mistakes.

What do you mean? said Will.

If a navigator experiences strong emotions or mental imbalance during transit it can affect the destination, said Dubois, It took one navigator three years to find a mapped ‘point when someone threatened him. I usually insist on being alone on the bridge, but that’s not possible today. As they approached the parapoint Dubois pulled on his navigator’s helmet. This allows me to visualise ‘points and interact with the ship through the transit.

He checked the connections and threw a switch. Will let out a loud gasp.

Quiet! Dubois said firmly. He knew exactly where he was going so didn’t encounter problems. Exiting into the hub he stabilised orbit, tapped in the coordinates for the next ’point, checked for other ships, switched off and removed the helmet. When he turned to talk, Eleanor was fussing round Will, who appeared almost catatonic.

What have you done to him? she said.

Nothing! Will, can you hear me! said Dubois, shaking him by the shoulder.

It was beautiful, said Will distantly.

What, what was beautiful? said Dubois.

The lights, the parapoints, the transit, everything.

What did you see? Talk me through it.

It started when you turned on your helmet. I looked out of the front port and there were two gateways.

And? said Dubois.

You chose the blue one. It was nearer. I felt you choose it. It was the right one. As we went through, I felt happy, content. When we came out I felt a sense of loss, until I saw all the other parapoints."

And then?

You turned off the helmet and they vanished!

Astonishing, said Dubois. The most sensitive navigators need their helmet on quarter power like me, and Will visualised ‘points from my helmet leakage.

Is that good? asked Eleanor.

It’s extraordinary. Will, I know you don’t understand this, but those who visualise ‘points may affect the transit. Just observe and let me control the next stage.

I’ll try.

You’ll do better than try, said Eleanor sternly. "We can’t afford a mistake