噬菌体的转录RNA

基金会月球研究Site 01,安全会议室1-O。
1973年,7月19日,10:36 GMT。
O5-10抬起手,想要调整他的电子喉项圈,却只得因为他的手拒绝移动而就此作罢。移除肿瘤是一个漫长、枯竭且憔悴的过程。而且,在那些为了让他保持警惕而给他灌下的混合药剂之中,有些含有其他不幸的副作用。

“如果你不介意的话—?”

轻轻的,温柔地,那长长的机械手臂从他的床边升起。昏暗的房间里,卡钳般的机械指闪烁着,把那个小装置重新安装在了他脖子的残垣断壁上。然后,头靠枕旁的发音器中传出了一阵轻柔的嘶嘶声。

“感觉好点了吗,先生?”

“显然。让我们开始吧。”

从本质上来讲,这间房只是一间普通的十三人议会会议室。还有几十个像它一样的会议室存在——曾经存在,可现如今这个是唯一剩下的了。他们已经清走了桌子以及那惊人的舒服的椅子,用无菌塑料盖住了那纯黑、吸光的墙壁。除了他躺着的这个摇篮一样的床以外,房间里唯一的家具是一个矮架桌子,而13台仓促组装的视频显示器加上一个小小的摄像机的全部重量就这么压在了这桌子上。一束巨大的电缆穿过挡板,连接至等待中的Lunar Site-01通讯中心。所有的频道都已被清空,只为这一刻。

竭尽全力,O5-10扭动了他左手的一个手指,使之刚好能轻触一个精致的拨动开关。摄像机上的灯闪烁了起来。他督向右侧,就是正好在他的视线边缘之处,第14个屏幕显示了正在广播的图像。在那个黑色的屏幕上,以字符‘O5’叠加着一个白色的基金会符号。‘SOUND ONLY’的字样在框架底部轻轻地、脉冲般地跳动

一个接一个,视频显示器都以脉冲颗粒的方式活跃了起来。它们此时展示了十三张画面。几乎所有画面上的面孔都展示出低重力环境下的浮肿,伴随着满脸的焦虑与愁容。网络通讯所造成的压力是巨大的,但有时候你就是需要来一场面对面的沟通。这时,O5-10清了清他的喉咙。

“在其他任何情形下,我,或者我的同事,都会向你们进行情况的通报。只不过,似乎在我不幸缺席的情况下,你们自己已经恢复了某种程度上的稳定。既然如此,我们可以省去常规的程序了。”

他又按下了一个开关,随后他在显示器上的图像活跃了起来。O5-10耐心地等待着时间的延迟,看着显示器上各种各样的惊讶表情。他毫不留情地看了一眼自己的图像——那是一个曾经充满力量,现在却虚弱且干瘪的人。他那光秃秃的脑袋上满是外科手术留下的疤痕和斑点。

“你们都是太阳系中现存的各种基金会资产的现任或代理负责人。这一事实,使得我们成为了基金会指挥链的最顶层。就我而言,这也授予了你们全面O5级别的许可。我很清楚,这与你们从我这个职位所了解到的一切都相悖,不过,现在可是非常时期。”

FORC-06,即月面收容站,的主管清了清她的喉咙。她实际上就和O5-10站在同一块地面上,但O5-10免疫系统的状况阻止了他们之间的会面。

“长官,呃……如果我出错了的话,还请纠正我。不过,如果所有12个主FORC都在线上,那是谁占用了第14个频道。是我们在任何次级站点进行修补吗,还是……?”

随着信息向外渗透,谈话中又出现了停顿。来自更遥远的FORC-10, 11和12的几位代表依然没有收到最初的广播。他的目光落在了第13个屏幕上。那个未连上的站点并没有用于视频的通讯频带。他们的在屏幕上的占位符则是一个程式化的金色喇叭。

“出于安保原因,FORC-00的存在被压制了下来。我确信,除了Cooper主管以及设立在FORC-05的FSF轨道司令部外,你们都不知情。不过呢,我相信你们都很熟悉海姆达尔计划。可以这么说,海姆达尔已经很好地进入了奥尔特星云,并且他们正在细致入微地关注着局势。”


Noamtosk以受过良好训练后的轻松,以及恐惧,这两种同等的心境,审视了正在等待的理事会。伴随着轮廓投影在宽阔的凸窗前,破碎的星舰残骸漂浮在他的身后,他很明白他所造成的影响。理事会的目光盯着他,他们的下颌瓣礼貌的张了张,他们的上肢在关注等待的手势之中折叠了起来。their uplimbs folded in the Gesture of Waiting Attention.

他微微一笑,He smiled, assumed the Gesture of Showmanly Demonstration, and began his Pitch.

那么,好的。我们敲开了宇宙深渊深处的大门。Okay, so. We open on the depths of space. Soaring music as we give the audience a chance to appreciate the magnificence of the cosmos, and all that. Nebulae, comets, all that jazz. Astronomers in the crowd nod appreciatively. Shot pans across a tiny, unimportant object- a metal plate, glinting brassy in the distant starlight. It's drifting, tumbling over and over. Slowly, it turns towards the camera, catching the light, and we see a map- a small world, a little bit more water than land. A subtitle pops up-

[Developing system. Potential Level: Elevated. Local Designate: SOL.]

Give them a few seconds to register. Then the plaque starts to shake. Tremble. The music gets tense. The starlight quavers and ripples and then WHAM! A massive spacecraft, out of nowhere! A series of ramshackle metal compartments strapped to four red-hot nuclear engines on the end of long pylons. Spinning radar dishes, obvious boltwork- primitive, but with a certain nobility nonetheless. We zoom in- maybe throw in a bit of shaky-cam, to give the impression of bulk and awe. The music is super threatening- the barbarity of its craft. Backward, yet warlike! Maybe a pan over missile banks and laser arrays. More subtitles, this time in a different font. More obviously computerized, maybe accompanied by a narration in Human. No need to translate.

[Secure Containment Protocols Foundation vessel Zheng He. Mission: Pass beyond Sol system transit plaque and report on findings. Use of direct force is authorized.]

A bunch of radar dishes and obvious sensors open up on the outer hull- maybe chuck some old-timey sound effects here, depending on how serious we're going with this. Anyways they're searching for something. All clear? NO! Suddenly the dishes stop. Music's building again. We see the weapons powering on. Springing to life. The engines go brighter- windows on the hull are shutting. New subtitle!

[Enemy contact detected: BATTLESTATIONS.]

And as the music gets too intense to handle suddenly the stars go dark and a shadow passes over the Zheng He. There's a blinding flash of white light, a rumbling explosion, aaaaand- ROLL OPENING.

[FIRST ENCOUNTER: SOL SYSTEM.]

Upbeat Human music. Local stuff- they've got these things called 'synths' that are just perfect for this sort of thing. Cast list, maybe some portraits if we can find some good footage. Shots of Human ships at work in orbit, Foundation operatives investigating something, GOC and GRU and CID people fighting, high adventure, drama, all that.

We return to see the Zheng He listing. Still not clear what's hit it, right? Zoom in close- through the clouds of smoke billowing from the hull, through debris and electrical fires, to the bridge, where the command crew are strapped in and barely holding together. Music in the background is snappy and driving.

We see the crew, nervous but determined, Humans of all stocks and subspecies. We see the Number One, a female, passionate, charismatic but impulsive. A real firebrand. Then the Captain- a male, intelligent, wise, but cold and unfeeling. Not their real personalities of course, but we can edit those- and their appearances- in post. Still unsure whether or not to go with a romance subplot between the two, but the possibility is there. So- and this is all dubbed, of course, but we have the option of a subbed version for the purists, maybe a collector's set or something- preliminary dialogue. Just placeholder for now.

Captain: Your thoughts, Number One?

Number One: No time for that, sir! All batteries, fire at will!

Cut back to the outside. Lasers charge silently- maybe a close cut to some of the weapons, get the coolant gasses pouring over those stylish "Subach-Innes" logos. You know how the diehard fans are about branded merchandise, and there are endless possibilities with the Sol system.

So, lasers discharge, missiles fly- we see them impact on whatever the big 'enemy' is.

Weapons Officer: No damage, sir! They're charging for another shot!"

Number One: We don't stand a chance in hell of weathering another blast like that!

Captain: Evasive maneuvers! Get us out of here!

Again, placeholder dialogue. So, ship pulls out- thunder of engines, spitting of nuclear fire, the hull is shaking with the strain- all that. Still firing as it moves, it dodges an enemy attack- a ravening beam of blue-white energy with a distinctive gold afterglow. At this point, the smart ones in the audience are saying 'Ah-hah!'.

Captain: They've moved between us and the plaque back into the system. Number One, any suggestions?

A tense pause- we get the sense that the Captain is genuinely unsure, but also taking a moment to test his subordinate/close confidant. This'll happen occasionally- establish that our Captain has a darker side to him, a willingness to push boundaries that is dangerous, but also magnetic and, dare I say it, a bit sexy.

Number One: This is 1822 we're dealing with, right? They believe in combat, in glory, in a struggle…

Captain: It would certainly seem like they're getting what they want.

And then- the music gets hopeful! There's a spark in Number One's eyes! A plan has formed. No, not just a plan! A Plan!

Number One: Comms! Hail them, all frequencies! Now, before they're back in range!

A tense moment as another beam scorches the ship and throws them about.

Comms Officer: Channel open, ma'am!

Close-up on Number One. A bead of sweat drips down her brow. And then, she speaks- all bravado and bluster, with the spirit of Humanity backing up her words! The music soars!

Number One: So it's a fight you're looking for, huh? Well, clearly you've got us outgunned. Hardly sporting, isn't it. Hell, one volley in and already we're running away. But what if… what if we could offer you the greatest struggle of them all?

Not the struggle of a lone ship against overwhelming odds- no, something better than that. The struggle of every species that ever lived in the galaxy! Every protozoon, every worm that crawled in the muck, every bird that struggled skyward, every ape-thing that gazed with dawning understanding at a brushfire! I offer you the struggle to find one's place! the struggle to find belonging! Give us your aid, and we will offer you the human species, in the struggle for home!

Silence. The music cuts out dramatically. And then, the viewscreen on the main bridge console flickers to life, and a voice- no need to dub this one- rumbles over the bridge, all smoothe and masculine and confident. The enemy… why, it's me, of course, their dependable rival and erstwhile companion. I smile politely at them- we get shots of horror from them, naturally- and say…

First Unit Director Naomtosk: The struggle for home, my Human friend? Now that- that's got power to it. Tell you what. I'll have my people talk to your people. I think we've got something here.

Aaaaand cut to first commercial break. What do you think?


Foundation Lunar Research Site 01, Secure Conference Room 1-O.
July 19th, 1973, 12:45 hours GMT.

The last message had long been sent, the last monitor turned off and removed by orderlies in clean-suits. O5-10 awoke from his daze. There was something in the room. It reached down and neatly pressed the light switch.

It was only the drugs coursing through his system, and his years of staring into the abyss that kept O5-10's heart from giving out. Six slender, spike-tipped limbs, in two clusters of three around a pillarlike spine. A central head, with four petals- no, they were tooth-lined jaws- each with a lidless, blank eye at their tip. A single mouth- too wide, with teeth like interlocking gears. It spoke, softly and politely.

"O5-10? I do apologize for waking you, but time seemed of the essence. You see, one of your representatives recently made contact with us- you could call us, hmmmm- yes, call us the Showmen. They proposed an exchange, of sorts- your story, your quest for home, for our… pertinent technical knowledge. If you decline, no hard feelings, but if you're interested, the results could be… well, extremely lucrative for both our species."

O5-10 sat bolt upright, his drugged and tumor-raddled body no more a restraint to him than his linen sheets. He had half a mind to call security. But the other half…

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

The Showman smiled, and began his pitch anew.



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