The QT Diaries The Lab Rats by Janet Nolan Miles

There is sabotage on the Space Patrol Research Ship Ponce de Leon and the targets are a pair of researchers. Who is trying to stop research into the Quantum Transformation Syndrome? Is it possible to live forever?

Copyright ©2011 Janet N Miles. All rights reserved. May not be copied in any form without written permission of author. Permission granted for exclusive posting on the Big Closet web site.

'Momma said there'd be days like these,' kept running through my head. I am sitting alone in the meeting room waiting for the others. I tend to be early and this is no exception. I suppose that it was good that I was ruminating on an ancient song. The meeting was more like a disciplinary hearing and thinking about that was only going to make me angry. And 'you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.'

These practical jokes in the lab had to stop, though. At first they were pretty harmless pranks, but lately they are really interfering with our work. This last one was actually kind of dangerous.

I am the head of a research team on board the Space Patrol Research Ship, Ponce de Leon, currently outside the Oort cloud of the Sol system conducting critical experiments to learn more about the Quantum Transformation Syndrome. Evidently, the powers that be want to determine if it could be used as a bizarre way to continually extend one's life. The thinking is that one could undergo the process every forty-five years or so, and effectively live forever. An intriguing thought, I suppose, but it strikes me as a bit odd to want to undergo a sex change just to extend one's life span.

So, here I am, waiting, so far alone in the meeting room.

I guess I forgot to introduce myself. I'm sorry. I'm so upset I've forgotten my manners. I am Ken Ohkawa, DrEng in Aeronautics and Astronautics from Tokyo University, and PhD in Astrophysics from London College University. At age fifty-five I have been with the Space Patrol Research Division for over thirty years. I was born and raised in Ikebukuro on the northwest side of Tokyo. I am single, due more to being married to my work than anything else, and keep myself fit by swimming. In my spare time I play guitar and keyboard and credit myself with a fair singing voice.

My ruminations are interrupted as the door opens and my boss, Chief Science Officer Commodore Marsha Anderson, enters. At about five feet, four inches, she is not an imposing figure, but there is no doubt when you meet her who's in charge.

Following her into the room is the reason for my current discomfort, my research partner, Steve O'Connor. He's alright, I guess, it's just that he has this rebellious streak. He grew up in California and studied veterinary medicine at Texas A&M. After that, he went back home and got his MD at UCLA.

I frowned as I saw the sandy-haired prankster enter the room.

As soon as they were seated, the Commodore took charge. “Okay, guys, what's the problem this time?”

“These practical jokes just have to stop,” I said. “It was funny for a while, but now they are starting to disrupt the lab, and this latest one was potentially dangerous.”

“But I didn't do this one,” Steve protested. “I would never put the lab or any experiment at risk. Commodore, you know that I am a consummate professional in the lab. All of my pranks have been in the common or break areas.

“I mean, yeah, I set up the holographic projector over the plate of donuts that time. It was funny to see folks grab for stuff that wasn't there. And maybe using liquid nitrogen to freeze Ken's tea was a bit over the top. But this? No way!”

“So how do you explain all of the test birds being freed from their cages and let to run around loose like that?” Marsha asked.

“I can't. I was in my room last night. You can see that on the security record.”

“Yes, but someone tampered with the files. They showed you in your room, but they also indicated that no one was in the lab, either. And you saw the mess those birds made. It took hours to sort them all out and clean up the lap!” I was pissed.

“Well, I'm no hacker. I have trouble getting vending machines to work for me. Do you really think I could pull off hacking the ship's security system?”

“He does have a point, Ken,” Marsha said gently.

“Well, I guess you're right. I still want this investigated. If it isn't a practical joke, it's sabotage and we need it stopped,” I huffed and rose. “Our experiments are reaching a critical stage and we can't afford any screw-ups.”

I had worked up a good head of steam and was stomping down the corridor when Steve rushed up behind me.

“Ken... Ken, look. I'm sorry, but please believe that I had nothing to do with that mess. I would never interfere with a project like that. Please believe me.”

I looked into his striking blue eyes and realized that he was telling the absolute truth. My anger, at least where he was concerned, evaporated.

I heaved a sigh and the tension I'd been carrying released. “Okay, Steve. I believe you.”

“So, what do we do? I've noticed that it seems that stuff in the lab's been messed with. Do you think someone is trying to sabotage us?”

“I don't know. This is a pretty messed up experiment, anyway. This whole ship commissioned for the purpose of QT syndrome research is a bit strange in itself. And I'm somewhat afraid that if we do find the fountain of youth that it would be a way for the rich and powerful to further secure their positions.”

“Well, we should know soon. Our next test is to expose the birds that were transformed forty-three years ago. I'm thinking that we should double check the exposure pod to make sure that no one's messed with it. You game?”

“Yes, I think you're right. Meet you there at 1500, okay?”

“See you then.”

* * * * *

We'd been in the test pod for about twenty minutes checking all the systems, when the lights flickered. The airlock door closed, trapping us in the pod. I tried the over-ride system, but it wouldn't work. The pod was deploying with us in it.

“Any ideas, Steve?”

“Not a one. Looks like we're gonna get some first hand experience with QT.”

“Are you old enough?”

“I hope so. I'll be forty-six in a couple months.”

I chuckled, “Only on paper, my friend.”

The pod was now fully deployed and the shields opened. I didn't feel anything, but I knew that I was being radiated by the Cosmic Storm.

Steve sighed, “It is a beautiful sight. Hope it's worth the cost.”

I felt an increasing languor and as I slumped to the floor, noticed that Steve was crumpled in a corner.

And then...

* * * * *

I came to. I had fleeting feelings of being tucked in to clean, crisp sheets... the quiet chirp of a monitor. I cautiously opened my eyes and moved my head slightly. I was in sick bay. Sighing, I closed my eyes. But then, it seemed like my eyes had opened again and my head turned, but it turned the other way.

My eyes flew open. 'What was going on,' I thought. But it was strange. It wasn't like what my internal voice usually sounded like. It was like there were two voices saying the same thing at the same time!

I took a deep, cleansing breath. I started to wonder how my partner, Steve, was, and in the same flash of an instant I felt a message, 'I'm fine.'

It was the strangest sensation as I began to realize that my thoughts and Steve's were seemingly occurring simultaneously... that my thoughts were his and his were mine.

I don't know how long it took or how we managed it, but we finally figured out a way that we could sort things out between the two of us and worked out a means of communicating so that we weren't tripping over each other's thoughts.

Then we had a lengthy 'discussion' about whether we would tell anyone about this. The result was a resounding, 'NO WAY IN HELL!'

It was bad enough that someone had an unhealthy interest in possibly using QT as a fountain of youth. No way were we gonna tell anyone about this.

It did make us wonder, though, what else had happened in the transformation. We decided on another experiment. We figured that a corpsman would be in soon to check on us and free us from the monitors. Once we were ambulatory, whoever was first would make his way to a mirror and see how he turned out. Then, he would sit down and close his eyes and the other would take a turn at the mirror and share what he saw. We were afraid that if we tried it together the information overload might be bad for us.

While we waited, we had a constant communication link going, sharing information. Steve discovered that he could readily access my Japanese language and cultural skills. I realized that I had all of his medical experience. I could feel my hand respond as I 'felt' his drawing skills. I could feel his appreciation of my music skills as his hands played an air keyboard. It was clear that this was something unprecedented.

We 'wondered' about memories and how much we shared. While we weren't sure, we had a feeling that whatever this phenomenon was, it was permanent and we had to learn to live with it. I giggled (giggled?) when he commented, 'I mean, I've had roommates before, but this is ridiculous!'

As it turned out, the corpsman (a cute brunette) visited my room first and unhooked me from the monitor. She helped me get out of bed, slowly, and let me totter to the mirror. I quickly grabbed a nearby chair and sat heavily. I knew what to expect from QT. I didn't expect this. I felt Steve echo my shock.

I collected myself and made another attempt. I wasn't just short, I was tiny! I looked to be about four foot, six inches tall and about sixty-five pounds. I started to look more closely. I still had most of my Japanese facial features, almond shaped eyes, epicanthal fold... The surprise was their colors. Yes, colors. My right eye is bright blue and my left is an amazing green. Having different colored eyes is rare and, as far as I knew, never seen before in a QT.

My link with Steve was filling me in on the possibilities and he was getting a strange feeling about what he'd find.

I went back to bed to rest for a while and let the corpsman move along to Steve. Time for him to get up and me to observe.

As I watched through our link, Steve got up and went to the mirror. We were almost identical! The only difference we noticed was that his right eye is green and the left is blue. We realized that when we looked at each other it would be like looking into a mirror.

When the corpsman left Steve's room, we began discussing our futures. It was obvious that we were more than twins and separating us would likely be detrimental to us both. We knew from our previous research that we would be 'benched' for a few years as we got acclimatized to our new gender and grew up again. We also felt that we somehow had to put a stop to this fountain of youth fascination.

About half an hour later Commodore Anderson came in to my room. The corpsman was leading Steve. After the corpsman left and we were all settled, the Commodore began.

“The preliminary report on the incident has come in. This was definitely sabotage, no question. We found that the pod was tampered with so that on a power fluctuation it would deploy. We have found an engineer in the power section who caused the power glitch and we are questioning him. Evidently, you were being monitored by the security system so they knew when to pull the plug, as it were.

“The security system is being analyzed and we hope to identify who was working on this.

“The big question at this point is what to do with the two of you. Protocol says to transfer you to Delta City Hospital as soon as possible. But, I don't like the idea of having my two top researchers shipped off with our primary mission incomplete.”

“Well, Commodore, if you'll allow us, once the pod is operational, we can proceed with the final test and we can pack up and go home. May we have your approval for that?” I was speaking for both of us, but I didn't even have to look at Steve to know he was in agreement.

We had a concurrent thought that our names no longer fit and we'd have to do something about that.

The Commodore nodded slowly. “It's possible, I suppose, what is left to do?”

“We have to put the QT'ed birds into the pod, expose them, and examine the results. At this point it either works or it doesn't.”

“Okay, we'll do it at 0900 tomorrow. In the mean time I am going to have the corpsman get you some clothes, though I doubt we'll have anything that fits. I'll have the techs completely check out the pod and make sure that the birds are ready.

“I want to observe this test myself, so I'll see you there in the morning.” She turned and left.

I turned to look at Steve and our link went into overdrive.

“Weird... tell me about it... so what about? Sounds good... names?”

It could have been hours, but was probably less than a moment or two. We had a plan and new names.

We decided that I would be Lora, and she (yes, we agreed on new pronouns, too) would be Lisa, even though those names would be a bit strange for our Japanese friends and family to say. We also decided that we should be twins with the same family name, so we adopted the name Futago which means twin. The kanji for the name are quite elegant and the stroke total is very lucky.

We debated the possibility of trying to sabotaging tomorrow's experiment ourselves to hedge the result, but we ethically couldn't bring ourselves to do it. Besides, we had a feeling that it was going to fail on its own. We were sure that as a people, as a society, we weren't mature enough to use the QT syndrome wisely. It was better just to let it be a rare phenomenon and let it go at that.

They did manage to scrape up some clothing for us. It turns out that in the emergency rescue stores they have a supply of children's clothing. It wasn't anything fancy, but just adapting to panties and buttons on the wrong side of the blouse were enough of a challenge for the moment. At least our clothing was not identical. It was difficult enough for people to tell who was who without being dressed the same.

It was difficult to sleep that night. We were both nervous about the test and we didn't have enough control over our link yet to keep us from keeping each other awake. So, we used our nervous energy to our advantage and worked on our communications and skills sharing.

We decided to arrive at the lab early to do our own checks, so we arrived at 0800. There were a pair of marine guards at the door in full battle dress. It was a strange, almost Dickensian, scene, two seemingly undernourished waifs appearing in front of two massive guards, begging for entry.

The lead guard glared down at us and gave us a look that would make lemons pucker. “Who are you and why are you here?”

I glanced at his sleeve to see his rank. They weren't messing around with this at all.

“I'm Ken Ohkawa, Master Sergeant. This is Steve O'Connor. We got QT'ed in the pod accident. We're supposed to meet Commodore Anderson here at 0900 and wanted to go over some things first.”

His eyes narrowed, but at least he hadn't shot us, yet. “I'll have to confirm.”

He mumbled into his comm link and paused. I could see he had activated his video system, sending our images to his command.

After a few moments he said, “Okay, the Commodore is on her way. You are to wait here until she arrives.”

We shrugged. It made sense that if anyone were to suspect us as complicit in the sabotage that we should be supervised by someone who knew what was going on. There weren't many on board who had the knowledge to keep us honest. We didn't think of this as an accusation. This was a big CYA that the Commodore was helping us with.

She walked up about ten minutes later. “So, you couldn't wait?”

“Not so much that, as we wanted to make sure that we personally checked everything over ourselves. It hadn't occurred to us until the Master Sergeant called you that it would be a good idea for us to have a knowledgeable witness there to protect us from accusations of sabotage.”

“Well,” she grinned, “you may have lost a lot of size, but you haven't lost any smarts.” We giggled at that. “Sergeant, you may let us in.”

The guards stepped to each side and opened the door.

The lab looked normal enough. Everything seemed to be in place. But we knew that looking normal was not enough, not by a long shot.

Since it was getting difficult for us to maintain two names, we told the Commodore our new names. We also said that if she slipped, that it was okay, but we had to move forward.

After about twenty minutes of running diagnostics and poking into panels, Lisa called out.

“I think I found something!”

We gathered around the open panel as she pointed to a strange tangle of wire.

“What is that?” the Commodore asked.

“It looks like a bypass of the safeties on the environmental controls,” Lisa replied. “I think that when the pod is activated, it vents the lab to space. It would kill us all before the experiment could be completed.”

“Somebody is going to a lot of effort to make sure we don't know the answer to this,” the Commodore said. “Lets get the CSI people on this to see if there is any evidence of who did it.”

The three of us adjourned to the lounge area while the crime scene techs did their thing. Lisa and I enjoying some tea, the Commodore her usual black coffee. I never did understand how anyone with a decent palate could like that stuff.

“This confirms something I had suspected,” the Commodore began. “I think that not only are our saboteurs trying to stop the research, I think they're trying to kill you two, as well.”

The chill running up my spine had a weird echo as I knew that one was running up Lisa's at the same instant.

“So... what do we do?”

“Well, most everyone on board knows that we had a QT accident, but few know what you look like. I'd like to get you off board as soon as possible, but I doubt that I can get Space Patrol to get another ship out here that quickly.

“I think that the only thing we can do until we make port is to keep you under wraps. Limited contact and only with highly trusted personnel. I'll have the corpsman in sick bay checked out. I know that the guards you met are trustworthy.

“I'm afraid that the only way to keep you safe is to keep you sequestered and limit your contact with the ship's crew to a very limited few.

“Until we get you groundside and with your chip holders, that's about all we can do.”

Chip holders? Ooops. We'd forgotten about that.

All Space Patrol personnel are required to establish someone to hold a power of attorney, authority to act on that person's behalf in case of death or incapacitation. Since QTs restart at age twelve, the regulations reset the person to being a minor needing a guardian. In our case, that means our chip holders.

It may seem backward and cruel, but there is some logic behind making QTs minors. Society just isn't used to having a bunch of emancipated twelve-year-olds running around. So, it makes it easier for them to have guardians. It is also for their protection. It could be very easy for the unscrupulous to take advantage of these child-savants. I mean, what would you do if you saw a twelve-year-old step up to a bar for a drink? See? So, it's a pain for a few years, but it's the best compromise they could come up with.

One of the guards came up to announce that the lab was clear once again.

We did a quick check of all systems and panels and everything seemed in good order.

One by one we took the parrots that were QT'ed forty-three years ago and placed them in their cages in the pod. Why parrots? Simple. They are one of the few easily portable animals with extremely long life spans. Parrots have been known to live for a hundred years. We had three sets: a control group, a group which we had recently QT'ed, and the group we were now putting in the pod, the forty-three year old QTs. We went with a year older than the sparse statistics we had about age forty-two being the 'magic' number. We really don't know why the answer turns out to be forty-two. We don't even know the question.

The birds were safely in the pod and we were ready to begin. Lisa and I looked at each other and we both pushed the button to start the experiment. The pod deployed properly and the shields opened.

We watched the video feed anxiously as time seemed to crawl. The birds gradually lost consciousness and fell over in their cages. Then, slowly, they began to dissolve.

Lisa and I tripped over each other in a mad dash to the toilet. Ick!

At least we had our answer. Quantum Transformation was a one way trip. Lisa and I are okay with that. And maybe it will take the heat off of those who've been trying to get rid of us. We can't see where there is much of a threat now.

The Captain decided that it wasn't worth asking for another ship to pick us up. We were headed home, anyway. Still, the Commodore decided to keep us under wraps until we arrived at Delta City Hospital. And we were cool with that.

Our checkups at the hospital were pretty much pro forma. We were all awake and functioning and over the first shocks of our transformations. We really had things pretty much together. All that remained was to work out who our guardians would be.

One of what worked out to be determining factors was our hair. By now it had started to grow out. Lisa's blonde was turning strawberry blonde. And, big surprise, by black was turning the same color.

Lisa's chip holders had a daughter who was also twelve, so we decided that would be a good place for us to get re-acclimated to our new roles and lives. The plan was to acclimatize for a year or so and then resume service in the Space Patrol with new assignments.

Our only requirement, we had to stay together. After all, we're twins! And twin strawberry blondes in LA? Look out world!