“How do you read me?” Magnus asked.
The ambassador blinked at him several times.
“Ambassador?”
“Ah, there you are. That’s much better.” The fat man regarded Abimbola. “Would you please repeat yourself, large Miblimbian? You were mumbling. I understand your kind have a propensity for it.”
Magnus cringed, but to Abimbola’s credit, he didn’t so much as twitch. The warlord repeated what he’d said before and waited for Bosworth’s reply.
“Ah, very good. And please tell the mwadim that—”
“You may tell him yourself, Ambassador. He speaks common.”
“Does he? Marvelous.” Bosworth cleared his throat. “Great Mwadim, what gesture of appreciation might the Republic be willing to provide you as thanks for saving my life? I am permitted to offer you an initial sum of—”
“I want to speak with Brigadier General Lovell.” Rohoar’s voice felt as though it made the table rumble.
Bosworth blinked. “Speak to Brigadier General Lovell?”
“He is like the mwadim in charge of all the Marines, yes?”
“Uh, I… suppose that’s a fair comparison. However, I don’t think you—”
“I have not asked you to think, Ambassador. The last time you thought, people died.”
Bosworth winced, jerking back in his seat. “It’s just that—”
“Either you can put me in touch with Brigadier General Lovell now, here at this comms station, or I have no further use for you.”
The ambassador stammered. He looked at Magnus then to Abimbola. “Yes, yes. I can connect you with him. I… I just need to give hailing codes to… to whoever runs this place here.”
“That would be me,” Abimbola replied.
“Ah. Well, let’s see here…”
Magnus suddenly wondered whether the man could remember his hailing codes and security-clearance designators. This whole thing could go sideways simply because his memory was gone. But to Magnus’s amazement, Bosworth dictated all the necessary information to Abimbola’s communications operator, who then gave the warlord a thumbs-up.
Abimbola directed his attention to Rohoar. “We are ready to transmit.”
Rohoar looked at his blood wolf and said something in the Jujari mother tongue. The blood wolf touched a small implant in his temple and spoke several soft words in his native language. Several seconds transpired before the blood wolf nodded to Rohoar.
“You may proceed,” the mwadim said.
Just like that, the Jujari communications blockade was down. Information could flow freely.
All Magnus wanted to do was find an encrypted handset and contact his COs at the company level. But he knew it might be several more hours of pissing contests and bureaucracy before that would happen.
A holo-interface appeared before Bosworth. The man’s eyes brightened, and he rubbed his nose several times. Then, with a loud sniff, the ambassador began typing and swiping, searching for the general’s name in his personal Republic database. Once he found Lovell’s name and swiped through all the security-clearance windows, Bosworth initiated the holo-vid call. It only took one set of trills for Lovell to answer.
“Ambassador?” the general asked, eyes wide. Magnus noted a commotion going on behind Lovell. He was standing on a starship’s bridge. The scene was turbulent, full of status updates, orderlies, and flashing lights. A general-alert klaxon pulsed in the background.
“Good evening, General. I see—”
“How the hell are you alive, Gerald?”
“Recovered by your rescue team,” Bosworth said.
“My rescue team?”
“Indeed, led by… by…” Bosworth looked at Magnus. “What’s your name again, trooper?”
“Lieutenant Magnus, Ambassador.”
Bosworth repeated the name to the general, and Lovell’s face froze. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“Is the lieutenant there with you now, Ambassador?”
“Yes, General. But before we get to that, I have a very important Jujari leader here who wishes to—”
“Put him on, Ambassador.”
“But, sir, I don’t think you—”
“Put him on.”
Bosworth blinked several times, lips pursed to an impossible distance away from his nose. “As you wish.” The ambassador turned the holo-screen toward the Marine. Magnus saw himself in a small window to the lower right while Lovell’s rich black face filled the rest of the screen.
“Are you… are you all green, Lieutenant?”
Magnus looked around. He felt nervous. He never felt nervous. “Yes, General. Is there a problem?”
“I’m going to need you shipside immediately.”
Magnus’s heart sank. It was news about Awen; he was sure of it. Something had happened to her. “General, if it’s news you can share here, I’d appreciate if you just—”
“This needs to be done in person, son.”
“General, with all due respect, I’d rather you break the news here.”
“You’re being placed under arrest, Lieutenant.”
Magnus blinked. “I’m what?”
30
“Who is that?” Awen blurted.
Standing beside TO-96 was another bot. The robot was humanoid in shape with long arms and legs and a slender torso—and a good head taller than TO-96. Its body was the same pearly white as the ship’s hallways and glowed a gentle blue around the joints and from two eyes behind a smooth face. Whatever TO-96 was to blocky segments and clunky parts, this robot was to pure sophistication and elegance.
“Awen, allow me to introduce you to Azelon,” said TO-96. “She and I have been—”
“Azelon?” Awen asked, taking a tentative step onto the bridge. “As in, the ship Azelon?”
“Yes, as in the ship.”
“And she’s safe?”
“Why, of course. She is the ship, after all. The Novia have instructed her to serve and protect us wherever we wish to go.”
“Okay, well… that’s, wow. Yeah.” Awen didn’t know what to say. She’d never even conceived of the same AI inhabiting both a starship’s mainframe and a robot—though, as she thought about it, the idea didn’t seem so strange. In fact, she began to wonder why it hadn’t been done before. Aren’t all autonomous maintenance bots much the same? she thought. Though I can hardly compare Azelon to a maintenance bot.
“Well, Ninety-Six,” Awen said, warming to the idea, “it seems you have yourself a female companion, now, doesn’t it?”
TO-96 reared back then looked between Azelon and Awen. “I suppose I do, yes. What a pleasant turn of events. We are, as you might say, becoming fast friends.”
“Nice.” Awen smiled. She approached the pair, eyeing Azelon with keen interest.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Awen of the protoverse.” Azelon extended her hand. Awen stared at it, unsure if she wanted to take it. However, this was, after all, a sentient species’ invention, and Awen’s oaths as a Luma required that she honor this bot in the same way she would honor the Novia Minoosh. Despite her apprehension, Awen was genuinely excited to see such a technologically sophisticated robot. She was only skeptical because she was tired. And overwhelmed. And she just really wanted to get back home.
Awen stepped forward and took the offered hand. It felt surprisingly warm. “I’m pleased to meet you too, Azelon. Thank you for… for all you’ve done for us so far. We are very grateful.”
“It is my pleasure to serve you and Ezo and TO-96.” She looked at the other bot. TO-96’s eyes grew brighter.
Is he blushing? Bots don’t do that, Awen remarked to herself. Do they?
* * *
Awen was strapped into her acceleration couch, readying herself for the violent shaking, the high-pitched oscillation, and the arduous compression of the quantum-tunnel jump. She also thought to ask TO-96 for a vomit bag, but Azelon assured her that no such thing existed on the Spire.
“Then I hope you have some good cle
aning bots,” Awen replied.
“We do,” Azelon said.
Awen blinked. So much for my attempt at humor.
TO-96 took a seat beside Awen but neglected to fasten his harness. Likewise, Azelon stood casually to one side of the bridge.
“Uh, Ninety-Six, are you gonna, you know, strap in or anything?”
The bot tilted his head at her. “For what purpose?”
Awen tried to remember what the jump had been like for TO-96 the first time, but the memories were more about her own trauma than his. Maybe he was immune to the effects. She wouldn’t know without asking.
“Ah!” TO-96 exclaimed with a finger in the air. “Forgive me, Awen. It seems that the Novia Minoosh developed starships that dampen the effects of jumping through a quantum tunnel.”
Awen glanced at Azelon. “Really? ’Cause if that’s true, that’s awesome.”
“It is true, Awen,” Azelon replied. “The impact on your physiology should be minimal, if you notice anything at all. In fact, the launch from Ithnor Ithelia was four point six thousand times more volatile than what you will experience jumping through a quantum tunnel aboard the Spire.”
“Four point six thousand times?”
“Basically,” TO-96 said, “that means you won’t feel a thing.”
Awen blinked. “And you know what? I’m just fine with that. Thank you.”
“It’s our pleasure,” TO-96 said, looking over to Azelon.
Is he flirting with her?
Azelon moved to the center of the bridge and turned toward the main window. Her white body began to glow blue, and several dozen hexagonal display screens appeared all around her, each semi-translucent against the main view of the void. Simultaneously, the bridge darkened, making the screens seem even more vibrant. They depicted dimensional graphs, star charts, images of the ship, diagnostic readouts, and supply levels of who knew what.
Awen’s head spun as she considered all the data that floated around Azelon. Now she’s just showing off. Awen smiled.
Lines began connecting different screens, specifically the ones that seemed to display star charts and gravity wells. The floating windows reordered themselves in midair and then stacked on top of one another. Azelon continued to stare straight ahead, and the activity in the panels grew more frenetic.
Awen tried to see if she could sense something in the ship—a vibration in the arms of the acceleration couch or something—but there was nothing. The only sign that anything significant was about to happen came from the visual spectacle spinning around Azelon. The female bot’s body grew brighter as the hexagonal panes traded places around her, creating a blurry sphere of motion, strobing lights, and interconnected pathways.
TO-96 was watching Azelon work with something that bordered on obsession. He’s into this, Awen thought.
Then, with a sudden move of Azelon’s hands, the screens shot forward and stacked up, one in front of the other, extending from just in front of her torso to the bridge’s main viewing window. They floated there, perfectly still, like hundreds of layers of translucent windowplex glowing in a variety of colors. With a final motion, Azelon pulled her hands in toward her hips, and all the images shot towards her direction and were absorbed into her chest as if ingested by a blaster bolt.
The bridge went black. Awen could hear herself breathing. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and there was a soft hum coming from the ship. Everything was still.
In front of her, dots of light began to appear. They were so subtle at first that Awen thought maybe she was seeing motes of light in her corneas left over from Azelon’s navigation show. But within another few seconds, she realized they were stars.
White stars. Yellow stars. Not purple stars.
“Are we back?” She held her breath. “Ninety-Six!” Awen turned to face his glowing yellow eyes. “Ninety-Six, are we back?”
“We are, Awen.”
She pumped her fists and let out a scream that seemed to surprise both TO-96 and Azelon, but she didn’t care. “Mystics, this is incredible! We did it!” She kicked her feet like a small schoolgirl, giving another shout. Her hands worked the buckles as fast as she could, trying to get them undone. But she was so excited she got stuck twice.
“So, where are we? Did we make it to Ki Nar Four? Are we close?”
Azelon stepped close and helped her undo the restraints. “Yes, Awen. We are precisely where you placed the tunnel’s terminus, less than one hour from Sootriman’s planet.”
“For real?” Awen took Azelon’s offered hand and stood up. “Someone’s gotta tell Ezo that we made it!”
“I believe you just did,” TO-96 replied.
Awen spun around and saw a holo-feed from sick bay with Ezo’s face in it. “Ezo!” she yelled. “We made it!”
“We sure did, Star Queen. Congratulations.”
“You too!” Awen clenched her fists again. “Oh man, this is just so great.” She gave another loud scream, stomping her feet, then noticed Ezo looking back toward Sootriman. “Oh my gosh,” she said, reaching toward his picture. “I’m so sorry.”
Ezo chuckled. “It’s okay, Star Queen. Ezo gets it. We both know how you freak out from time to time.”
“I’ll come down and see you in a second, I promise.”
“Sounds good. Just keep all the screaming up there on the bridge, okay?”
She gave him a smirk and nodded. “I’ll try.”
Ezo winked, and the screen vanished.
This was far more emotional than she had imagined it would be. Awen was one of the first three people in the known universe to travel to another reality, encounter a sentient species, board their starship, and return to her point of origin in less than four months. It would make history, and she didn’t even care whose name was attached. She just wanted to share the news with… everyone! With Willowood, with the Order, with her parents, with the scientific community. With anyone who would listen.
Awen placed a hand to her heart and sat back down. She breathed deeply. A wide smile crept across her face. “We did it, Ninety-Six. We really did it.”
“Yes, yes we did.”
She reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder.
The bot turned to look at her. “You should know that I am proud of you.”
“Did… did you just say you’re feeling something?”
“If a sense of appreciation and admiration for another person that results in an urge to embrace them constitutes feeling, then, yes—I am feeling.”
Awen lunged at him, throwing her arms around his neck. At first, TO-96 seemed unsure of what to do. But a moment later, he returned the embrace, holding Awen gently beneath his weapon-laden arms.
“Is this a normal behavior for species from your universe?” Azelon asked.
“Yes,” TO-96 replied. “It is. See my archives on human affection when you are able. It will explain most everything you need to know.”
“Ah, yes. I see it now. Thank you, TO-96.”
“With pleasure.”
Awen released the bot and sat back in her chair. A deep sense of satisfaction flooded her as she looked out the window toward the approaching planet. Then it struck her that she didn’t have any idea what to do next. She and the others had been so fixated on finding a way home that she really hadn’t thought about what they would do once they arrived at Ki Nar Four.
“Ninety-Six, how soon before you can connect with the galactic network? Maybe summarize some news feeds for us? You know, get us up to speed?”
TO-96 didn’t respond.
“’Six, you all right?”
The robot tilted his head then said, “Oh my.”
Awen slipped out of her chair and moved in front of him. “What is it, Ninety-Six?”
The bot’s head snapped toward her. “Awen… I’m afraid I have what may be some rather disconcerting news.”
“Okay…” she said, drawing the word out. “What is it?”
“Well, as I began accessing the information channels, as per y
our request, I came across something startling.”
“Disconcerting, startling—I got it. What is it, ’Six?”
“We were in Ithnor Ithelia for seventy-one days, Galactic common time. By that, I mean, we experienced seventy-one days in metaspace. But here in protospace, well…”
“You’re killing me right now, Ninety-Six. Just spit it out.”
“We have only been gone for three point five days, Awen.”
She froze. Her heart thumped in her chest. “Excuse me?” She fluttered her eyelids. “Three and a half days? Are you… are you absolutely certain?”
“I am one hundred percent certain, Awen. Apparently, there is significant time dilation when traveling through the multiverse.”
Awen stared out the bridge window. “It’s almost as if we never left,” she whispered. Her mind became a flurry of activity then, racing through scenarios faster than she could keep track of them. She wondered what kind of expeditions could be made in Ithnor Ithelia. Awen was in awe of what such a time discrepancy meant for progress, the development of new technologies, and new discovery and research.
Research. The admiral’s supposed research team. What would the time dilation mean for them? How much exploration can they do in just two or three weeks? She tried to do the math in her head, but it was dizzying. She wondered if they would discover the temple library or the quantum-tunnel generator. Perhaps they would discover another ship like the Azelon or new technologies that would allow them to…
Awen caught her breath. To conquer the galaxy. Whatever elation she’d just enjoyed had vanished. “We’ve got to go back.”
“Back, Awen?” TO-96 asked.
She turned to look at him. “We have to go back. We have to stop them. There’s no telling what they might discover or how they’ll use it. That enemy team, Admiral Kane’s research team—they can’t be allowed to use any of that technology. We can’t let it fall into the wrong hands.”
But whose hands, exactly, are the wrong ones?
Awen’s thoughts suddenly turned toward the Galactic Republic. The Jujari. Even So-Elku and whatever Luma he’d coerced into following him. Would any of them be any better if they acquired the power that lies in the metaverse?
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 61