by Tim Pratt
“Why is it a gash?” Felix said. “What the hell did you do, Thales?”
The tear in space widened before them, and beyond it, something moved. Colors flickered in there, like aurora, but there were other things, too. Writhing things. Felix thought of maggots in rotting meat. Of baby spiders bursting out of a wound. Of worms wriggling up out of a wet hole.
“Send the probe,” Thales said.
“Why?” Felix said. “That’s not Xanhact through there! It’s not even a wormhole!”
“Maybe artificial wormholes present themselves differently!” Thales said. “Send the probe!”
Felix caught Calred’s eye, shrugged, and nodded. Calred operated the panel at the security station, and a small gleaming sphere studded with sensors burst out of the ship and sailed toward the rift.
They watched the probe get closer and closer to the chasm – and then tendrils of coruscating darkness lashed out of the rift, grabbed the probe, and pulled it in.
“What,” Thales said flatly. “What are you getting from the probe?”
“It’s just throwing error codes,” Cal said.
“Is that the Shaleri Passage on the other side?” Felix said. “Damn it, Thales, did we just shoot a Coalition probe at the Creuss?”
“I… I don’t think…”
“Look,” Tib said. “There’s something in the crack. A shape, a structure, I can’t quite make it out, it’s–”
Felix heard a whimper. He realized a second later it had come from his own throat.
There was something inside the crack. Felix had no sense of scale, so he couldn’t tell how big the thing was – the size of a starship, the size of a star, bigger. He just knew, whatever size it was, it was impossible.
The thing beyond the crack in space was a burning wheel, facing them side-on, slowly rotating, flickering with a corona of white fire. The spokes of the wheel seemed to be made of yellowed, splintered bone. The rim of the wheel was an immense red serpent, devouring its own tail. The hub of the wheel was an open, bleeding eye.
The eye stared at them. The eye saw them. More tendrils began to reach out of the rift, this time, toward the Temerarious.
Chapter 30
Felix reached for the power source, but Thales hugged the battery and the trigger to his chest. “No! I can fix this!”
Calred tackled him, and the sphere fell from his hand, clattering to the deck, the case cracking loudly on impact. The power cell whined louder, and thin, acrid smoke started to rise from the crack in its side. “Look out!” Felix shouted, diving for Tib and throwing himself on top of her.
The power cell overloaded with a loud pop and filled the bridge with a flash of white light and a buzz that made Felix’s teeth ache. He staggered upright and looked, through blinking eyes, at the viewscreen. The rift was already shrinking, like a sped-up recording of a wound healing, and the dark tendrils receded into the dark just before it closed. The afterimage of that brightness – and that burning wheel – floated in Felix’s vision, though.
Felix leaned against the nearest station, breathing hard. “Tib, Cal, are you OK?”
“I’m a little bruised from you jumping on me,” Tib complained.
“I thought it might explode like a grenade,” Felix said. “I was being selfless.”
“Be selfless on top of someone else next time, captain.”
Calred was all right too, but Thales was picking over the remnants of his device, sobbing. The power cell had ruptured into several pieces, and the trigger was cracked too. “You broke it open when you knocked me down!” he shouted. “The interior is fused, it’s a melted mess, I’ll have to start from scratch–”
Cal stomped down on the device and ground his heel. “That was not a wormhole,” Cal said. “That was something else. That was something bad.” He was breathing hard, like he’d just run an obstacle course. “Sagasa the Disciplinarian comes from a sect that believes that in the afterlife evildoers are punished forever by demons of blood and fire. I have never believed in that place. But now… now I’ve seen it, and you, Thales, you opened that door. You nearly let that hell into our world.”
“It… the device just needs refinement, is all, I’ll look at the math–”
Felix grabbed Thales by the back of the neck and dragged him to his feet. “It’s over, Thales. Your machine didn’t work. That thing, that place, whatever we saw… no one should ever see that again. There are some rocks you shouldn’t turn over.”
“I- I don’t know what went wrong,” Thales said.
Felix frowned, remembering. “The Ghost. The one that destroyed your lab. What did it say to you again?”
“What? Why are you talking about that? It’s ancient history, and anyway, this wasn’t the Creuss, I don’t know what it was, but–”
“The Ghost said, ‘you must not fracture the void,’ right?”
Thales stared at the empty screen. “Something like that.”
“The Ghost wasn’t trying to scare you off,” Felix said. “It was trying to warn you. The Creuss weren’t upset because you’d figured out their technology. They were upset because you hadn’t, not correctly, and they knew if you kept going, you were going to… to do that. To open a passage to that place. To the things that live there.”
“I… you…” Thales was never slow with a vicious comeback. Until now. “You can’t know that. Not really.”
“I know enough. Watch Thales for a few minutes, you two. I need to call our boss.”
“Then what are you going to do with him?” Calred said.
“Then I’m going to escort him down to the brig,” Felix said. “That’s where we keep our murderers.”
•••
Felix shoved Thales into the cell beside Azad and Severyne. “Hello,” he said. “Did you two see the show?”
“That was real?” Severyne said. “It wasn’t a trick, to make us think the experiment failed?”
Felix pointed at Thales, who sat on a bench, weeping. “Would he be doing that if he’d succeeded?”
“No, he’d be doing a little dance,” Azad said. “Huh. I have seen some messed-up things in my day, captain, but that hole he tore in space was beyond the beyond.”
“I devoted years of my life, and ruined my career, for a project that would have failed anyway,” Severyne said. “That is disheartening. What will you do with Thales now?”
“Oh, I’m offering this fine specimen of human theoretical physicist to the highest bidder,” Felix said. “What will you give me for him?”
Azad frowned. “Even if I had access to funds, why would I pay for something like that? I’m not saying nobody wants a weapon that rips open holes in space and lets nightmare monsters out, but I’m not going to give my superiors the option. Can you imagine, Severyne, if the humans could do that on demand?”
“The humans might actually use such a thing,” the Letnev said.
“Exactly. So, no, captain. You can keep him.”
“What do you think, Severyne?” Felix said. “Would the Barony be interested in Thales?”
“I… Why do you ask? Are you sending me back to the Barony?”
Felix shrugged. “I just assumed that’s where you’d head after I let you go.”
“Ha,” Azad said. “The Coalition doesn’t want us, huh? We’re a big old can full of way too many worms, and some of those worms might bite.”
“I don’t understand,” Severyne said.
“You don’t bring prisoners back from a covert operation,” Azad said. “Not prisoners like us, anyhow, from an operation like this. Now, if it was me in the captain’s place, I’d shove us out an airlock without suits and let nature take its course. But Felix is sentimental, isn’t he?”
“I’ve killed enough people because of Thales. I don’t want to kill any more, if I can avoid it. I never want to see either one of you ever again. Can
we arrange that? None of us want to talk about anything that went on here, I bet. As far as I can tell, there’s no reason for us to try to shoot or strangle each other any more. No reason beyond personal vengeance, anyway.”
“Don’t discount the power of personal vengeance,” Azad said. “But, nah, I’m good. Live to fight another fight.”
“Will you give me back the Grim Countenance?” Severyne said.
“The Incontinence is yours. I don’t have any use for it.”
“Ha,” Azad said. “Incontinence. Nice one.”
“My people disabled all the weapons,” Felix went on, “just in case you do feel a twinge of vengeance. Take your ugly spiky ship and fly far away. But back to Thales. He kidnapped and then murdered a Barony scientist. Don’t you want to haul him back to your superiors and put on one of those show trials your people like so much?”
Thales finally seemed to realize what they were talking about. “You can’t sell me, Duval! You have no right!”
Severyne ignored him. “I seem to recall you were involved in those crimes as well.”
“Yeah, but I have a warship, and the key to your cell, and Thales doesn’t, so he’s easier to apprehend.”
Severyne shook her head. “I see no advantage in taking him. Officially, no crime was committed. The research facility was secret, and Shelma’s research was, too. As for myself, I am not even sure I can return to the Barony–”
“Sad story, hate to hear it,” Felix interrupted. “I’ll take that as a no. There’s no profit in you at all, is there, Thales?”
“I was thinking, Sev,” Azad said. “I can make a report to my superiors that only massages the truth a little, tell them I recaptured Thales and decided to test his prototype, and it was a disaster. I can cover my own ass–”
“Why would they believe you?”
“Oh, I got footage of the eldritch horror show on my eyeball cams.” She tapped her temple with a forefinger.
“Wait. Your eyes are recording devices? Does that mean…”
“I don’t record everything. Though if you wanted…”
“Stop!” Severyne shouted.
“Listen. What I’m saying is, I’m going to be all right. I don’t need to bring in a Barony defector to appease my bosses – I’ll just show them Thales was a dead end and no great loss.”
“So. You deny me my only chance at survival.” Severyne slumped.
Azad rolled her eyes. “Will you listen to me? Try this: go home after all, and give them a gently massaged report too. Tell your superiors Thales murdered Shelma, so you took him instead, tested the device, all hell tried to break loose, and you left him stranded in space. We can stitch together some footage to support that narrative. We can even include you kicking Felix’s ass in the scrapyard.”
“She did not kick my ass,” Felix said.
“Only because Sagasa stopped her,” Azad said. “But it doesn’t matter, because Duval’s Devils are covert. There won’t be any kind of official report to contradict Severyne’s story.” She grinned at the Letnev. “We’re going to give you a total hero cut, Sev. I mean, I’ll have to escape your custody at the end of the story, but I’m Amina Azad. I escape stuff. No one will be too mad.”
Severyne frowned thoughtfully. “It could work, especially if I shift blame to the director of the research facility. After all, ultimately, Shelma’s kidnapping was her responsibility. If you look at events in a certain way, I just went into the field to correct her failure–”
“I have some friends in the Barony who might be able to weigh in on your behalf, too, and support your version of events,” Azad said. “I didn’t mention that before, because I wanted you to defect.”
Severyne’s head snapped around. “Friends? In the Barony? Do you mean assets? You have spies in my government?”
“I told you, Sev, I make friends wherever I go.”
“Speaking of going,” Felix said. “Can you two get your story straight elsewhere?”
Azad shook her chains.
“Don’t try to kill me when I let you loose,” Felix said.
“I don’t kill people for fun. What kind of sicko do you think I am? I only kill for the mission, and the mission is over.”
Felix released Azad from her bonds with the push of a button. Azad tore the collar off, flung it into a corner of the cell, and then went to Severyne, putting an arm around her. “You know, Sev, I could get one of my friends in the Barony to recommend a new career path for you. You’re wasted on a space station. You should be out in the field, like me, kicking ass. Just think – we might get to try and kill each other again someday.”
Severyne looked at Azad, a speculative glint in her eyes, then stood up straight and fixed her gaze on Felix. “Farewell, Captain Duval. You were an intermittently capable adversary.”
“Thanks?” He opened the cell door and stepped aside.
Azad and Severyne walked past him, still arm in arm. “When we get back to the Grim Countenance,” Azad said, “we can celebrate our mutual survival. I’ll do that thing. The thing you like. With the thing.”
Felix watched the play of expressions that flitted across Severyne’s face. He could only identify a couple of them – disgust was in there, and lust – but that was enough to get the general idea. Everyone was having more fun in space than he was, even the joyless Letnev.
Well, almost everyone. Thales was still crying.
“Calred will escort you to your ship,” Felix said. “I look forward to never seeing either of you ever again.”
“Bye, captain. Good luck with Doctor Bullshit there.” Azad gave a little finger-fluttering wave and sauntered out of the brig with Severyne.
Thales looked up, his eyes rimmed with red. “What happens now?”
“There’s no profit in you,” Felix said. “In the absence of profit, I have no choice but to pursue justice.”
“You’re going to kill me, then.”
“It would be an execution, but no. I’ve been thinking about it, and I want you to live a long time, marinating in your own failure.” Felix grinned. “I hope you enjoy our fine Mentak Coalition prison facilities.”
“Prison. On what charge? You can’t prove any crimes. I was working for your Coalition–”
“The Temerarious finally finished the tox screen we ran on Shelma. It turns out she was killed by a synthetic neurotoxin introduced into her tank. Something pretty unusual, which is why it took so long for the computer to isolate the cause. We have video of you touching her armor, right next to a valve where we found traces of the toxin. We have records of you synthesizing that chemical in your lab the day she died – you deleted the chem-jet printer’s local history, but the ship keeps a backup. Not just murder, but premeditated murder, and an attempt to cover it up. That, along with testimony from me and my crew, should be sufficient to put you away.”
“This whole operation was covert,” Thales said. “You can’t have a trial.”
“Not a public one, it’s true. But my boss, undersecretary Jhuri, says he’s happy to lead a secret tribunal. He’s Coalition through and through, but he’s also Hylar, Thales. He takes you murdering two of his species personally.” Felix closed the door and rapped his knuckles against the bars of the cell. “That’s about it. Enjoy your ride back to Moll Primus. Get used to confinement.”
“At least you won’t get your promotion,” Thales said. “This failure sticks to you too.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But it turns out, Jhuri sees potential in my little group, and wants to keep us on in our new capacity. The Temerarious is being reassigned, and I’m now special attaché to the undersecretary of special projects.” Jhuri had actually said “because I want to keep an eye on you,” but Felix decided to gloss over that part. “Don’t worry about us, Thales. Duval’s Devils will ride again.”
Epilogue
Phillip Th
ales – that was as good a name as any, and how he usually thought of himself these days – woke in the cell where he’d spent more time than he cared to remember, and gazed up at the dark.
Mentak Coalition prisons weren’t the overcrowded hellholes he’d first expected based on the culture’s bloodthirsty reputation – indeed, the Coalition’s history, rooted in a horrific penal colony, had led them to create more benign conditions for their inmates. Thales was better off than he would have been if he’d failed the Barony or the Federation. Still, the irony of being imprisoned in a small space – him, the man who was supposed to open up the whole of the galaxy – was not lost on him.
There was sufficient food and water, and if the meals were repetitive and bland, that didn’t matter. Food was just fuel, and his body was only a vessel for what truly mattered: his mind. He’d often thought he was born to the wrong species, first as a human in a world full of Hylar, and later, as a creature of matter at all – he should have been Creuss, composed of light and intellect.
The worst thing about being here was the boredom. There was a prison library, but it was limited and contained almost no technical material – certainly none on his level. When he complained about the lack of mental stimulation, one of the warders – in what she considered an act of kindness! – brought him a thousand-piece puzzle depicting some artist’s conception of the Lazax imperial palace. Bah. Thales should have lived in a palace. Thales still had the puzzle, unopened, under his bunk. Perhaps someday things would get so bad he’d start putting it together.
His powerful mind had nowhere to go but in circles, retracing old grievances and plotting elaborate revenge fantasies – including revenge against the universe.
Why was he awake? His wing of the prison was quiet – the inmates who screamed all night were kept together elsewhere so they could only annoy each other. The dark was deep, no glimmer through the small high window, so morning must be a long way off. He didn’t have to urinate, which was usually what woke him in the night, as he got older. So then…