Casting was another form of teleportation. There were three ways to transmit yourself around the universe, to the best of my knowledge. One was to use gateway posts. These were great devices, as they permanently linked two spots that were up to a thousand lightyears apart. As long as they were powered, you could walk through them and find yourself walking out the other side, and it felt like it was only an instant later.
What I didn’t like about that method was the fact it was all a lie. What really happened was you got unmade, disintegrated molecule by molecule, and your reassembly data was transmitted to the other gateway. There, the system put you back together again.
That all sounded pretty cool until you heard the snap and pop of bodies being blasted apart. It left a hot smell that lingered, and I wasn’t a fan of the whole process.
The second method wasn’t perfect, either. It involved wearing a suit or a harness. This system also had limited range, and you were aware while you were traveling. Every second, you moved about a lightyear, and you felt like you were dying the whole time. Just try holding your breath and counting slowly to a thousand if you want to know what it’s like.
The last method, most recently developed by the spooks under Central, was the most diabolical of all. It was called casting because your existence was sort of thrown into the void. The cool part was that the techs kept a quantum tether with the subject, and were able to observe what he was up to for about ten to twenty minutes.
The bad part was there wasn’t any way to get the fellow back. Being clever, resourceful and cruel, the techs had devised a solution to this problem. Their usual approach consisted of having the commando kill himself at around the fifteen minute mark. That way, he could make certain his observers witnessed the event and were convinced he was dead. They could then print out a new legal copy back home.
That was the system I was strapped into today. Naked as a jaybird and twice as ornery, I found myself growing impatient as I waited to die.
“Where am I going, exactly?” I asked a bored tech girl.
She shrugged, and she didn’t even look at me. “Some planet called Green World.”
“I know that, girl,” I laughed. “Where on Green World?”
She glanced at me. She was messing with settings and spinning up a fusion generator. That wasn’t enough power to fire my ass all the way across the cosmos, of course. It was just enough to power up the containment field. The surge of power the device needed to send me on my way required her to connect up thick cables directly to Dominus’ engines.
“I don’t know, Centurion. They’re just a lot of numbers they gave me. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”
I grumbled, and I slouched back onto the too-small couch. “They probably pulled the coordinates from one of those original squid-made teleport suits. They had Green World down as one of their six selected destinations. Did you know that?”
“Uh-huh…” she said, not listening to me at all. “Could you just relax for a minute, sir? I need to punch this data in without making a mistake.”
“All right, all right. I’ll shut up. But, say—”
I’d been about to propose a date, although my heart wasn’t in it, when she suddenly threw a big switch, and the machine began to shiver and light up.
“Okay, pull your feet and hands in, please. That’s right, ball-up tight. You’re too big for this unit.”
I did as she said, and I winced a little. Being converted into a bright ball of plasma never felt natural to me.
“Remember,” she shouted to be heard over the whirring machinery. Every passing second, it revved up in volume and intensity. It was beginning to throb already. “Remember, McGill: you’ve got twenty minutes max to die. After that, you’re permed.”
I nodded, trying to tell her that I’d ridden the first of these devices they’d ever made, and that I’d teleported my first time about when her daddy was cutting his first tooth—but I never got the chance.
Suddenly, the world went white—then it was gone entirely.
The trip wasn’t a long one, fortunately. When I appeared on a rocky shoreline, I was only slightly out of breath.
Overhead, the sky was a dark, gray-green. The ocean off to my right was almost the same color.
It was raining, and the drops splattered on my bare back. I stood up from my crouched position and looked around, taking stock of things.
“Well this is a loser,” I said, staring at the beach. “Hey techs, if you’re listening, this is the original beach I visited back in the day. I recognize the Wur hut up there on the rise.”
I pointed upslope, and I waited for some orders or something—but there was nothing.
Hmm… that wasn’t a good sign. The last time I’d done this casting business, I’d been in contact with the people who’d tossed me down into the depths of the Moon. They’d come up with improvements, and they’d said they could talk to me as well as hear me.
But not this time. I experimented with a few hoots and hollers, but it was no good. Either the connection had broken, or it was only one way on this rig—or maybe the range was too great. I wasn’t sure which was the case, so I proceeded as if they could still hear me.
Striding down the beach, I was soon soaked. The world was chilling my balls down pretty good, as I was wet and getting buffeted by thirty kilometer an hour winds.
I immediately thought of how nice a suit of special-made Vulbite-made armor would be right now, and
