“What do we have today?” Zeph asked, pulling on his T-suit. Of course, he knew what “we have today,” and Gap knew that Zeph knew. But Zeph enjoyed asking the question, partly because, as an intern, he was interested in his senior partner’s perspective rather than just the dry lines in the assignment.
“The teleport sends, but on the other side, no one receives anything,” replied Gap.
“Is that it? I couldn’t read it myself?” Zeph replied with irony in his voice. He wanted to be on good terms with his boss, and this kind of irony, it seemed to Zeph, helped him achieve that.
– It depends, my friend, on where exactly he is sending it and with what M-factor. If it’s like that time when the teleporter went haywire and started sending all the surrounding mass continuously to one point in space, at a scale of 1 to infinity, then we could end up with a new Big Bang, if we consider the loss of the planet’s atmosphere, where the teleporter was operating, as a “minor detail.”
– But, boss, for the Big Bang, one planetary atmosphere is not enough, and the rate of mass increase at the receiving point due to just the gas entering the teleport zone in exchange for what was transmitted…
– Yes, it all worked out then, but what if the teleport had ended up, say, at the bottom of a gas giant planet…
– It would have flattened him, boss. Were you trying to test me?
“Well, according to the documentation, which I thought you had already read, this teleport has some protection and is not supposed to transmit anything continuously. Moreover, it shouldn’t transmit anything more often than once a week. There’s a block in place, according to the documentation,” Gapp finished putting on his suit and began to carefully inspect Zeph’s suit. Even the slightest breach in the T-suit could cause Zeph’s constantly moving body to fail to pass through the teleport properly, resulting in a meat puree in Zeph’s suit. Feeling Gapp’s cold fingers on his neck, Zeph continued to ask questions, already through the communicator:
– Why such a block? What if something urgent comes up? And if… Who would even buy something like that?
– The merchants of space, my friend, will buy it.
– Why do the merchants need the blockade?
– For trade with pre-luminal civilizations.
Zef raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t it forbidden?”
– Well, no. You can trade. You can’t supply goods.
– How is that possible? How are you going to trade without supplying goods? And for those with zero experience, they can’t have any goods at all. They’re all crazy. Any household converter will instantly turn into a weapon.
– Yes, as you remember, before the ban on supplies, some zeroes managed to extract a reactor from a handheld vacuum cleaner, rev it up, and use it as an engine for a catapult. They almost won the war. Until one of the reactors, lacking proper cooling, blew up and…
“Don’t explain, everyone knows. This case is actually in the textbooks and serves as a justification for the doctrine of zero contact with pre-light civilizations. That’s why they’ve been called zeroes ever since. Turn around!” Gapp turned his back to Zeph so that Zeph could now check his suit. Zeph continued:
– So, why do merchants need a teleport? What for?
– Well, you can always get something from beginners.
– Meat?
– Mostly yes, meat for exotic restaurants. Delicacies! You know, those guys up top are never satisfied with standard protein. But you can also deal in metals, especially heavy ones, if the zeroes are lucky enough to have access to native deposits on their planet.
– And for the sake of the meat?
– And for the sake of meat. Do you know how much a kilogram of wild game costs?
– I don’t know. I can’t even imagine.
– Well, there you go. The teleport will be ready in a couple of months.
– So why the week-long ban, then?
– Technical requirement from the Contact Commission. To prevent zeroes from cutting down all life on their planet and uploading it to the teleporter. And by the way, the teleporter is a maximum of second class, meaning it can handle no more than 500 kilograms at a time.
– What do the zeroes get in return?
“Merchants have found a loophole,” Gapp replied, studying his reflected eyes in Zeph’s visor. “They sell not goods, but services. And everything is under the radar.”
“That is to say,” Zeph wanted to sound clever, “they call the product a rental service and…”
– No, it’s all above board. Just services. You know, healthcare, weather forecasting, meteorology in general, agronomic assistance, increasing crop yields or catch, inducing precipitation, political and economic consulting, economic analysis… there’s a lot of possibilities.
– Medicine? So, someone goes there once a week, treats them and…
– No, it’s the other way around. They send us the ones that need to be treated. But only if they are already clinically dead. As you can understand, nothing in the client should be moving during the transfer. If the client can be revived, the merchants send them to the hospital. If not, then to the restaurant. Of course, along with the client, there must also be meat for payment, regardless of whether the merchants consider the arrival to be meat or not.
Zef looked into Gapu’s eyes. “Sounds like… a deal with the devil.”
Gap smiled. “In a certain sense, yes. But that’s the reality of space trade. We can’t interfere with their development, but we can provide them with intangible services. And by the way, it’s beneficial for the zeroes as well, as you understand.”
“Wait, where are we flying to? We won’t be able to use that teleport together with the equipment in one go, and sitting there for a week in front of the locals is kind of…”
– …It’s against the rules and, yes, it’s awkward. No, we won’t be using that teleport. It’s glitchy. We’ll take a big boat, unload together with the boat at the nearest station, and spend a week getting to our destination. And then back…
“Hey, what a week! I’m on vacation!” Zeph flirted. He had already counted his overtime, and he really enjoyed this assignment. Besides, it was open space. Gapp was too old for this, while Zeph was still a romantic.
“Look at the calendar. We’ll be back just before your vacation,” Gapp reassured him. “And you’ll have time to gather some meat for the family. You can finally try it and treat the kids. It’s all good.”
The technicians took their places in the hangar, fastened their seatbelts, checked the instruments, and requested the dispatcher for departure. Fortunately, the pickup point was not too far from the arrival location, and the week-long journey was actually expected to take just five days. Five days of overtime plus a bonus for being in open space. Just the thing before vacation. This flight promised them a 200% increase in their next paycheck. The dispatcher checked the coordinates, initiated the automatic control protocol, and five seconds later, the shuttle with the technicians exploded. Of course—not really. The shuttle had already reached its destination, but the air around it instantly collapsed, resulting in a massive cavitation flash and the sound of an explosion.
As a rule, merchants placed teleporters in locations that were difficult to destroy or damage. Additionally, the teleporter should not be underwater. They would set it up on a hill, and then persuade the zeroes to surround the teleporter with massive stone walls and, if technology allowed, a roof. The previous practice of hiding teleporters in caves turned out to be less effective. Caves are always found where there are mountains, and mountains are where earthquakes and landslides occur. Moreover, if a teleporter is located in a cave, it is harder to access. This translates to man-hours for expensive maintenance staff. Cave teleporters are also impossible to monitor from orbit, and if something goes wrong, it won’t be immediately apparent since surveillance cameras can’t see through the rocks.
“Who’s paying for this whole banquet?” Zeph asked casually, unwrapping a piece of gum and looking out the porthole at the central star of the planetary system they had been transported to. Zeph had already calculated in his head how much they would earn, how much their contracting company would make, and how much the end client would pay. It turned out that it would be easier to set up a new teleport than to send them through space, not to mention the energy costs of transporting an entire shuttle back and forth.
“Definitely not merchants,” Gapp replied gloomily. “They always make a mess, and then it’s up to the Commission to clean it up. And you can’t even fine them. According to their paperwork, the teleport hasn’t existed for a long time and…”
– Wait, who put him there then?
– According to the paperwork, they have already taken it back and disposed of it. But in reality, the zeroes load meat and/or their fellow tribesmen into the teleporter once a week, and it sends everything somewhere.
– I can already picture a cloud of frozen meat somewhere in the middle of nowhere…
– Or the dissatisfied zeroes who find themselves in the void of space, trying to figure out what happened, – Gapp added with blatant sarcasm. Then Gapp continued, – If, of course, the scale is maintained. Because if the teleport is glitching, you shouldn’t expect the scale to be preserved. The law of conservation of mass hasn’t been canceled, but no one said anything about volume. In any case, we’ll find out everything soon.
Gap double-checked the inputs and, touching the screen, released the probe. The unmanned probe could accelerate and decelerate with significantly greater forces than a vessel carrying living beings inside. The technicians expected to receive images from the planet’s orbit in just a couple of hours. All that remained was to ensure that the energy beam carrying the probe didn’t accidentally sweep across the target planet. But even this task was assigned to the AI assistant, which was already familiar with all the safety protocols.
“Let’s go have something warm to drink, Zeph!” The technicians drifted towards the galley, pondering what to order from the beverage machine—a true luxury for a repair boat. Thanks to those who put together the specifications for its delivery.
– How did the Commission find out about the glitchy teleport if the merchants didn’t complain?
“Well, the world isn’t without kind people. Some merchants left a teleport. Others arrived. No one has a monopoly on the planet. Set up your teleport and start getting meat. The Commission only monitors the total volume of supplies from the planet, not the number of teleports. And as you’ve already figured out, the supplies are zero. So, the doors are open for competition. And competitors couldn’t resist reporting to the Commission about those rivals who left a glitchy and abandoned teleport with the zero suppliers.”
– So, is our task to turn off the teleport, dismantle it, or repair it from scratch?
– Technically, it’s nobody’s. So we have the right to abandon it. We’ll take it down and bring it with us. We’ll repair it at home. Later, the company will sell it as used to some unsuspecting buyers.
After chatting for a bit, the technicians floated back to the control cabin. The probe should already be at the distance for an orbital maneuver from the planet, and according to calculations and luck, the planet was aligned by the teleport right in front of the probe’s cameras. They could get a picture even before the probe settled into a synchronous orbit and didn’t “hang” over the teleport at a certain angle.
The teleport was not there. I mean, there was a stone structure around it, a large stone rectangular table that looked like a teleport and served as an interface marker, but the teleport itself was missing.
“Maybe they moved it and left a fake here?” Zeph asked hopefully.
“How?” Gapp looked at Zeph with the same gaze a professor gives to students. “First of all, they can’t tell him apart from that stone. Secondly, according to a report from our competitors, the last shipment of meat was sent just a week ago. The teleport should be there!”
– Zeph understood the seriousness of the situation. – We have to find and return the teleport. Otherwise, what’s the point of this whole trip!
“Yes, Captain Obvious,” Gapp replied, slightly annoyed. “We’ll fly over and check it out. Program the probe to register movements. Maybe something will happen while we’re sleeping.”
A couple of days later, the probe reported that it had detected movement in the area where the teleport should be. The technicians stared at the monitor.
“Look, they’re carrying meat!” Zeph said excitedly.
– Aha, and some kind of fuel. Interesting, interesting… So the merchants are still trading in organic fuel?
“Organic exotic natural fuel?” Zeph turned on the “permitted” level of irony again. Is this for the ultra-rich vegans, then?
“Well, they are clearly packing everything for transport. First the fuel, then the meat… Look, one of those who is receiving the goods from the deliverers is stealing meat from the interface tag! What a scoundrel!”
“It seems they are all aware of this theft,” Zeph noticed that some of the zeroes were helping the thief move the meat away from the teleport interface. But what’s the point? The agreed-upon delivery weight is still checked, and the merchants won’t provide their services if there’s a shortfall.
– Strange… But what are they doing? They…
– …they’re setting the fuel on fire?!
“– The meat is going to burn!” exclaimed the shocked and outraged Gap. “Do they even have any idea how much it costs?! Or did the merchants sign a contract for the supply of roasted meat?”
– Ah, fried on organic exotic natural fuel? For vegans?.. Oh, right…
Gap, caught up in the situation, no longer heard Zef’s irony. “Something’s not right… The fire is getting bigger… They’re burning the meat!”
“Well… there’s still no teleportation, so whether the meat is raw or burnt, it won’t go anywhere,” Zeph remarked. “But then, what’s the point of all this?”
“I don’t think they have any idea that the teleport has been removed,” Gap said thoughtfully.
– So what?
“The merchants took the teleport not according to the papers, but for real. And there is no teleport there,” Gapa’s voice carried a note of authority.
“– But what about the report?” Zap wondered.
Gap turned away from the screen and looked at Zeph. “The competitors noticed that the zeroes bring in meat once a week, the sensors registered an energy output similar in signature to a cavitation flash, and they rushed to report it.”
“Then what motivates the newcomers?” Zeph couldn’t quite piece together the picture that Gapp had clearly already figured out.
– They are trying to simulate the operation of the teleport using fuel. And they are succeeding, since other merchants have also been deceived. Apparently, after the merchants removed the teleport, the zeroes, having brought meat and not receiving a flash, decided to create that flash as best they could.
– But why?
“It seems they think the contract is working,” Gap replied thoughtfully. “They ask for something while standing by the teleporter, perform a ‘transfer,’ and wait for their requests to be fulfilled.”
“But requests are not fulfilled…” Zeph continued to be puzzled.
“Well, it depends… If you asked for rain and it started to rain, then for you, that means your request has been fulfilled,” Gapp philosophically noted.
“Ah! – Zeph finally understood everything and was pleased with his insight. – If it hasn’t been fulfilled, it means the merchants are unhappy with the quality, quantity, or even the type of meat. Especially since it’s being shamelessly stolen.”
Gap nodded in response and signaled to wrap up the conversation, saying, “Alright, turn the boat around. There won’t be an Abandon. You’ll write the report yourself.”
“Alright, boss,” Zeph responded, tapping his fingers on the screen, “but I’ll just take the probe off orbit.”