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  Praise for Nucleation

  “A superb, smart debut! Love this woman who has to fight her way back to the top using her intelligence and expertise. The confident, sharp details made me feel I was there, in Helen’s head, at each step of her remarkable journey. I can’t wait to read more from Unger, a welcome new voice in science fiction.”

  —Lissa Price, author of the Starters series

  “Science fiction fans will be captivated by Unger’s smart, plausible vision of the future of space travel, especially the elegant solution of utilizing quantum entanglement to communicate across light years.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Forget your wide-eyed explorers, your prime directives, your philosophical debates. Forget all of Humanity nobly uniting in the face of the Unknown; our response to First Contact is far more likely to consist of mutual backstabbing in pursuit of the upper hand. Nucleation starts a clever journey down that less-traveled road, and passes through some fascinating territory en route.”

  —Peter Watts, author of The Freeze-Frame Revolution

  “Author Kimberly Unger has created an absolutely inspiring main character who demonstrates how believing in one’s conviction and own intuition will always lead to truth. Nucleation is an immersive tale that has blockbuster scale and emotional story-telling you won’t soon forget.”

  —Terry Matalas, showrunner, Star Trek: Picard

  “VERDICT: Unger’s (The Gophers of High Charity) video game credits are well matched to this space adventure. Dialog among rivals, teammates, and machine interfaces keeps the story moving quickly. Recommended for fans of technothrillers and those who appreciate a strong lead character navigating readers through the technical bits.”

  —Library Journal

  “This smart, gripping debut weaves technology, embodiment, and corporate espionage into a tense vision of the future that readers won’t be able to put down.”

  —Jacqueline Koyanagi, author of Ascension

  “In technology we so often look to science fiction for inspiration. Kimberly Unger is the rare author with a foot in both worlds and it shows as she gives a thrilling glimpse into the future with Nucleation.”

  —Andrew Bosworth, Vice President of Augmented and Virtual Reality, Facebook

  “Nucleation delivers top-notch suspense, deftly weaving together industrial espionage and first contact in a futuristic world that is all too plausible. Unger brings to her world a special sensibility for human psychology that gives realism to futuristic nanotech and corporate politics alike.”

  —Juliette Wade, author of Mazes of Power

  “Unger weaves real-world insights about virtual reality, technology, and art into a space opera packed with high adventure and dastardly intrigue.”

  —Eliot Peper, author of Veil and Breach

  “A near-future, tech-driven thriller marked by grounded characters, wondrous discovery, and a compelling mystery at its core.”

  —Joseph Mallozzi, Executive Producer, Dark Matter, Stargate’s SG-1, Atlantis, Universe

  “An inventive, exciting page turner that mixes mystery, bleeding edge technological speculation, and the promise of a potential sequel. If Grisham was a better wordsmith and chose to write hard sf thrillers, it would look a lot like Kimberly Unger’s gripping Nucleation.”

  —Charles Gannon, author of the Caine Riordan series

  “Contact’s Ellie Arroway. “Story of Your Life”’s Louise Banks. The Last Astronaut’s Sally Jansen. Add Helen Vectorovich to the ranks of great science fiction featuring remarkable, driven women serving as humanity’s first contact with an alien race. With Nucleation, Kimberly Unger offers a richly detailed, thought-provoking peek into our not-so distant future and a mind-blowing means of taking us to the stars, but are we prepared for what awaits us out there?”

  —Dayton Ward, author of Star Trek: Kirk Fu Manual

  “Unger moves the reader from one vivid scene to the next, skillfully weaving in context and background . . . The verdict: A spectacular debut novel, at once thoughtful and exciting, packed with innovative ideas and plot twists.”

  —Deborah J. Ross, author of Collaborators

  “Nucleation is a cool twist on the New Space Opera. Full of great ideas and combining elements of cyberpunk and space opera, it’s a fun ride from start to finish.”

  —Karl Schroeder, author of Stealing Worlds

  “Taut and snappy, Nucleation is solid science fiction with a whole lot of heart.”

  —Cat Rambo, author of Carpe Glitter

  “As a lifelong fan of science fiction, I’ve read it all. But it’s always a surprise to be captivated by a new work and for her first novel, Unger’s Nucleation delivers a rich world-building experience on top of a narrative that grabs at you and satisfies that urge for something fresh. I’m so looking forward to more from this author.”

  —Kate Edwards, Executive Director of The Global Game Jam

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for purchasing this book. We hope you enjoy it.

  Please absolutely do not share, reproduce, post, or resell this e-book. Piracy is illegal. This book is protected by international copyright law; all rights are reserved without the express permission of the author and the publishers.

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  Tachyon Publications LLC

  1459 18th Street #139

  San Francisco, CA 94107

  415.285.5615

  [email protected]

  Nucleation

  Copyright © 2020 by Kimberly Unger

  This is a work of fiction. All events portrayed in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form without the express permission of the author and the publisher.

  Interior and cover design by Elizabeth Story

  Tachyon Publications LLC

  1459 18th Street #139

  San Francisco, CA 94107

  415.285.5615

  www.tachyonpublications.com

  [email protected]

  Series Editor: Jacob Weisman

  Editor: Jaymee Goh

  Print ISBN 13: 978-1-61696-338-5

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-61696-339-2

  Printed in the United States by Versa Press, Inc.

  First Edition: 2020

  for Chuck and Mary

  00110011

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Golfball was reaching the end of its line drive—the hole in one an orbit around an orphan star. No planets depended on that burning ball of resources for life. Nothing would suffer when it launched its payload and started consuming every asteroid within reach. The starship-sized jumpgate would take a year to complete, after which the job of stripping Otlyan23’s asteroid ring of every valuable asset could begin in earnest.

  “Mark local time 24:48:16.” The NAV’s voice wasn’t in Helen’s ear, precisely. She didn’t have ears out here. Different bodies took time to get used to, and ears were a luxury item. The vibrations of sound shivered along the walls of the Golfball’s interior and filtered through receivers placed along her spine. “Station live. Station live. Station live.”

  “Live and well, Ted. Operator Helen Vectorovich, personal identifier T4T4-957.” She responded automatically, rattling the words and nu
mbers off without thinking. Helen was only the first shift on this year-long project and every shift started this way, every mission, every time. She refocused her vision as Ted worked to unlock the capsule controls from his station in the Fishbowl, a billion miles away. The lights around Helen brightened, moving from hibernation blue to heartbeat yellow. System after system came to life after two years of silent spinning through the black of deep space. From Helen’s perspective through the eyes of the waldo, the room opened up like a cathedral, lights and buckypanels rising around her to a point just over her head. In real-world terms, the whole space was the size of a basketball, but from inside the waldo it was oh, so much bigger than that.

  “Okay, Helen, let’s start running the system checks.” In the corner of her vision, a list of tasks popped up, bright enough to be seen, but not so bright that it obscured Helen’s view.

  “Starting with hull integrity.” Helen confirmed from memory, rather than consulting the checklist, and was brought up short.

  “No, wait.” Ted’s voice rang sharply in her head. “Stick to the new protocol, Helen, personal systems first. If your waldo goes out, this all goes sideways.” The mission checklist filled the right side of her vision, blurring out that side of the room.

  “And if the Golfball goes out?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer he’d give. The checklist slid out of view and was replaced by another, much more intimate list.

  “We’ll have you in there to fix it.”

  “Good thing this waldo works in a vacuum then.” Glib replies were part of the job. Confident chatter was a great defense, not just against the butterflies in your stomach, but against the analysts who would go over your comm chatter line by line if anything went wrong. Helen and Ted both had been through that wringer before; the Ferguson’s Asteroid Incident had made both their careers, but it had also made them much more careful.

  Helen turned her attention back to the waldo’s systems. This robot body wasn’t humanoid so much as arachnoid: eight legs folded up around a glittering central core of processing power and memory shards. Helen carefully unfolded each pair of legs, noting the fine grey dust that arose from them, and sketched her motions in the air. A quick refocus of the lenses showed her the thousands of tiny corpses, left-behind fragments of the nano-robotic eenies that had assembled the ship and its instrumentation out of interplanetary dust. She grabbed a few still images from the waldo’s memory and sent them through the quantum Feed to Ted’s screens.

  “Ted, do you see all this dust?”

  “Stay focused, Helen. We need you checked out as quickly as possible.”

  “Yeah, but check out the pics. Everything should have been used up in construction, I shouldn’t be seeing these eenie shells all over the place.” Everything, from the ship, to the waldo, on down to the idiot lights had been built up from a thumb-sized packet of eenies shot through a wormhole the size of a quarter. It was a hugely efficient way to establish a presence around a far-flung system, but it took a long time to build out.

  “Everything in order, this is all on record, remember? We’ll look at them when we get to checking out the ship. Protocol, protocol, protocol.”

  The waldo couldn’t scowl, but Helen tried it anyway. Waldo Operators like herself were, in a word, interchangeable, as long as there were protocols, lists of instructions to follow. No one pilot got too comfortable with one kind of waldo because you never knew where they were going to put you next.

  “Fine.” Helen ran through the checklist, meticulously testing each joint, each actuator, every fiber in the robot body she was remote-piloting. The automatic checks had been run well before she’d been entangled. These first tests were all about her ability to control the body down to the fingertips. Ninety percent of her jobs were like this, following the list, endless lists that could just as easily be run by an AI, if you asked most people.

  Leg eight felt sluggish; Helen felt it before the computer gave her the heads-up. Less than a millisecond slower than its siblings to respond, it took her a little extra focus to get it to match pace with its twin. “Ted, are you getting this? Leg eight?”

  “Affirmative. Still inside the workable parameters.”

  “Yes, but it still should be a perfect match. This whole rig is professionally built, not extruded by some kids’ crappy apartment printer. It’s not supposed to have that kind of slippage.”

  There was a pause before her NAV replied. Entangled communication meant no lag-time, which meant that Ted was considering, or maybe consulting with someone before he replied. “Helen, are you telling me you cannot work within these tolerances?”

  “No, I’m handing you the opportunity to wring a mea-culpa payment out of whatever contractor slipped a decimal point.” Smartass was the only response that played well. Too many complaints got you written up. Keep the NAVs laughing and they might not take every comment seriously enough to notate. Piss a NAV off and you’d hang yourself with the rope they’d given you.

  Except Ted. She’d been partnered with Ted long enough to know he wasn’t about to write her up for being particular. Helen handled the hardware, Ted handled the management. Between the two of them they’d managed to stay one of Far Reaches’ top operations teams for the past year. A position that makes high-profile gigs like running the Golfball much easier to get assigned to.

  Ted’s snort reverberated in her head. “Good luck collecting on that . . . it’s all code by committee these days, you know that.”

  “Team-based engineering provides better results,” she quoted, tossing a line from one of their training manuals back at him. In the years since they’d arrived at Far Reaches, they’d found their rhythm working within a structured system, but Ted’s rebellious streak was always looking for an opportunity to complain. Three years before, the Ferguson’s Asteroid Incident had made them an inseparable team, which meant covering for each other’s personality quirks. Ted handled the people, Helen handled the hardware.

  “Committees aren’t teams, Helen. In fact, they’re the opposite of teams.” She could hear his voice change, the words spoken so the rest of the team back at Flight Ops could hear him.

  Ted never could resist an audience.

  The items on the task list turned green one by one as Helen worked her way down the line.

  “Are you seeing the bad sensor on memory shard three?” he asked.

  “Yep.” Helen stretched out an arm and popped a claw-tipped manipulator out to give the shard in question a tap. The numbers on her screen changed, running up and down as the offender shifted in the socket. “It’s just loose, hold on.”

  “Loose?”

  “I’m deploying point-one-one picoliters of mix M37 at the base to re-seat the shard.” Helen rattled off the specifics so Ted could add them to the mission report. The blue gel, loaded with specialized eenies, filled the empty gaps in the socket and started to harden immediately. “Can you run the diagnostic?”

  The eenies were too small to hold their own programming. They would pick up on the instructions Ted broadcast through the NAV computer and repair the chip’s base to match the specs. As long as he sent the right programming streaming over the air, everything would go smoothly.

  “It’s not supposed to be loose, Helen.”

  “Congratulations, that makes two, count ’em, two mea-culpas on one job. Company record is five, Ted, are we going for the record on this trip?” Helen was settling into the waldo properly now; dispensing the repair mites had been as simple as drumming a fingertip on a dashboard. It was telling, the things that Ted worried about. As long as she’d known him, his focus had been on the people, the reports, what to say and how to say it—he was the medium between the managers and the waldo-jockeys like Helen.

  The memory shard came back online, joining the twenty others now jostling for her attention. Helen put them out of her mind for now, focusing on getting the checklist out of the way
so they could get on with the fun stuff.

  “Are you seeing the readings from array two?”

  “Array two? Ted, we’ve still got to finish this bit here.”

  “I’m breaking protocol.” Something in his tone of voice shifted, a note of panic that shouldn’t have been there. “NAV override one-five-five.”

  Helen felt the locks release and her waldo was free, unrestricted. It was amazing. It was totally off book. She didn’t dare move a finger, or a claw. “Ted, what’s up?”

  “Remember how we were just talking about how you could fix the Golfball?”

  Oh shit.

  “You’re going to have to fix the Golfball.”

  “Oh sh—” She cut the words off before they could be recorded. “Okay. How bad?”

  “Bad. Bad enough where I just put in a call to Ivester and XERMo, so let’s get on this. I want something to tell them when he logs in.”

  “Okay, what broke and where do I start?” Helen waited for Ted to throw the appropriate checklist into her line of sight. She counted to two . . . then three . . .

  Nothing?

  “Ted? Do we have a protocol? There is a plan for this, right?” She could feel her heart rate quicken. A billion miles away, trapped in her coffin, her palms began to sweat.

  “Working on it.” Two or three lists popped up as Ted cycled through, one after the other, all with names like “Catastrophic Hull Failure” and “Venting Acidic Atmosphere Breaches.”