Mission Multiverse

by Rebecca Caprara

  “Anytime you move from one dimensional boundary into another, you cross the Threshold, which is a highly charged field of quantum energy. We call this process Transfer. Not all species are adversely affected. Some tolerate it well, while others … less so.” Duna turned to Isaiah. “Which reminds me, how are you feeling?”

  Isaiah lifted his chin, his face flush with color. “Much better, thanks.”

  “I vomited for a full hour after my first Transfer, so I can commiserate. You’ll get used to it eventually,” Duna said. “The effects usually fade.”

  “Usually?” Isaiah grimaced.

  Duna’s lynk pinged. They glanced down at the device. “We still have much to discuss, but we have some intake procedures to complete before you can meet the council.”

  A second later, a round hoverdisc, like a giant floating yellow doughnut, arrived. A set of steps materialized. “Come on up,” Duna said, boarding the craft. The bandmates climbed in.

  A shimmering image appeared in the craft’s open center. “This is a 3-D holomap of Station Liminus.” Duna enlarged the hologram with their fingertips. “We’re here.” They pointed to an area shaped like an infinity symbol. “Gate Hall not only contains the Station’s primary entries and exits, but it also forms the kinetic core of the Station. As you can see, it resembles an ouroboros, constantly moving and changing, never static. Our gravity simulators are tied to its movement.”

  “If the core stopped rotating, would we become weightless?” Dev asked, remembering the freeing feeling of the Zero-Grav flight back at NASA.

  “Most likely. But the core was designed with highly advanced perpetual motion technology. The likelihood of it failing is next to none.” They gestured to the hologram. Additional dome-shaped structures radiated out from the core, stacked like barnacles on the hull of a ship.

  “The purple areas of the holomap represent the Station’s primary function nodes: diplomatic, judicial, security, research, and enrichment. The smaller areas represent the necessary support spaces.”

  “What are those?” Maeve asked, pointing to hundreds of threadlike connectors that snaked between each space.

  “A complex web of ducts,” Duna explained, “carrying fresh air, power, magnetizer channels, data cables, water, gas lines, and more. They run under the floors, through the ceilings, and between the walls. This infrastructure allows for easy expansion and flexibility. Handy, if we need to repurpose a room, for example, or construct a new node. In fact, the MAC recently voted to expand the Station in exciting ways.”

  They tapped a control panel near their seat, adding a layer of information to the holomap. “The blue represents our future plans. Of course, there are some kinks to work out, but we hope to build a vibrant hub between our great dimensions. Right now, the Station is only open to delegates such as myself, dimensional constituents, defense personnel, sanctioned traders, researchers, and inventioneers. But in the next few years, we may open Station Liminus up to tourists and students, too. I think it could be a great way to strengthen interdimensional bonds.”

  “Wow. Imagine coming here for a class field trip?” Lewis said, wide-eyed.

  “Um. We sort of did. Unintentionally,” Tessa reminded him.

  24

  EARTH

  The phone call back on Earth was getting more heated by the minute.

  “I’m going to need you to explain this in a lot more detail, Dr. Khatri!”

  “Mayor Hawthorne, I assure you, we will fix this.”

  “You’d better,” she said firmly. “Or NASA will no longer enjoy the generous funding streams or zoning liberties you’ve grown accustomed to.”

  “I understand,” Dr. Khatri said, pacing across the parking lot outside the Gwen Research Center. The field trip buses were set to depart any minute.

  Valerie Hawthorne took a deep breath. When she spoke again, it wasn’t as a mayor but as a mom. “I would like to speak with my daughter Zoey.”

  Dr. Khatri coughed. “Yes, right. About that …”

  “Where is my daughter? Please put her on the phone.”

  “She’s here, but not … here.”

  Mayor Hawthorne snorted. “What does that mean?”

  “A group of five students, including your daughter and my son, may have inadvertently accessed a top secret portal capable of connecting our dimension to the larger multiverse.”

  Mayor Hawthorne let out a hearty laugh. “Good one! Now tell me what’s really going on.”

  The line was silent.

  “Dr. Khatri, you must be joking,” she said, her voice unusually shaky.

  “I wish I were.”

  “How could something like that even happen?” she cried.

  “We have reason to believe that one of our colleagues, Ian McGillum, went rogue and constructed a functioning quantum collider secretly within the NASA facility.”

  “And this colleague? Where is he now?” Mayor Hawthorne demanded.

  “We have not been able to locate him. We don’t know if he’s on the run or if he was in the portal with the children when they disappeared.” Even as he spoke the words, he found them hard to believe. “We think he may also have stolen a very important piece of equipment, a device called a Syntropitron.”

  “Is it some sort of weapon?”

  “No, thankfully. It’s used to repair broken particle structures. We don’t know why Professor McGillum took it or what he plans to do with it. Dr. Scopes is leading an investigation into his whereabouts, and I’m working to establish a communication channel between us and the children, wherever they may be.”

  Mayor Hawthorne was quiet for a moment. “Tell Dr. Scopes I can have a citywide search team mobilized within the hour. We’ll set up checkpoints along all major access roads into and out of Conroy.”

  “Thank you, that would be helpful,” Dr. Khatri replied gratefully.

  “And the children?” Mayor Hawthorne pressed, clearly racked with worry. “How can I help you find them?”

  Dr. Khatri proceeded to talk the mayor through various rescue scenarios. He breezed over some of the finer details of catastrophysics, not because he doubted the mayor’s intellect but because he himself still hadn’t figured it all out.

  She let out a long breath. “This is worse than I thought.” But there was no time to wallow. They needed to act quickly, to set a plan in motion.

  “I will issue a press release regarding today’s quiver,” she said. “As for the children, I think it’s best if we don’t alert the public to their absence just yet. I would like you to coordinate with school leadership. Have them contact each family and inform them that their children were selected to participate in a special overnight sleep study. Tell the parents and guardians it was a highly competitive process and that their kids are Conroy’s best and brightest. They’ll likely be too proud to overthink or second-guess.”

  “Very well,” Dr. Khatri said.

  “If the media gets wind of the true story, it will cause panic. Discretion is key,” Mayor Hawthorne added.

  “Agreed.”

  “Good. I’m depending on you to bring our children home, safe and sound.”

  25

  STATION LIMINUS

  “You have arrived at your destination,” a soothing AI voice said as the yellow hoverdisc slowed to a stop.

  The cadets unbuckled their safety harnesses and climbed down. Duna led them through a set of massive silver doors. “Before you can begin your important work with the council, you must be processed and scanned.” They looked at them kindly. “Don’t worry, it sounds worse than it is. This way …”

  The cadets followed silently, taking in the sights and sounds. The Station’s main intake area was as big as their school’s gymnasium. Colorful flags representing each dimension in the multiverse hung from elaborate ceiling trusses high overhead. The kids had never seen their dimension’s flag before but instantly recognized the blue-and-green planet—the way Earth had looked in better days—set on a black background scattered with small
white stars.

  Up ahead, sentient creatures of all shapes and sizes filtered through rectangular booths that scanned them with beams of yellow light. Their belongings underwent a similar process, riding ribbons of floating conveyor belts as teams of biobots inspected capsules and trunks for prohibited materials. After retrieving their belongings, the travel-weary creatures moved on to a second row of booths, where they presented chip cards and holodocs to bored-looking Station agents who either approved or denied their entry and exit requests.

  “We’ll be here for days at this rate,” Dev said, eyeing the serpentine queue.

  “Ah, not to worry.” Duna guided the kids toward an expedited service line. “Only the best for our Earthling envoys!”

  Once they had all passed muster, Duna escorted them to a small antechamber. Compared to the sweeping and sterile intake area, the octagonal room was almost cozy, with rich red-and-gold lacquered paneling and warm light winking from asymmetrical crystalline chandeliers. Several tables were arranged within the space, each looking as though it had been carved from an asteroid, with jagged veins of metallic minerals. Arrayed around the tables were elegant wingback chairs, made from the actual wings of some very unusual feathered creatures. Right away, Lewis noticed large refreshment carts filled with carafes of steaming beverages and trays of thin, hexagonal crackers.

  “This is the diplomatic salon,” Duna explained, taking a seat. “Make yourselves comfortable. Enjoy a cup of tartea, a specialty of Dimension11.” The kids joined them at the table, feeling slightly out of place, like they’d snuck into the teachers’ lounge at school.

  Tessa selected a mug, which was heavier than it looked, forged from some dense space alloy. She tipped a carafe to pour herself some tea, but the liquid moved as slowly as molasses. She lifted the mug to her lips. It tasted like licorice, peat moss, and sesame. She couldn’t decide if the combination was gross or sort of delicious. She took another sip, pinky out, hoping she looked sophisticated.

  Dev sniffed the tea but decided against it. The thick, viscous liquid rivaled his mother’s awful smoothie for the title of universe’s nastiest beverage.

  “Duna, earlier you told us there were thirteen dimensions. But I counted fourteen flags in the intake terminal,” Maeve said. “And Ignatia referred to our dimension as Dim14. What’s that about?”

  “Ah, yes. We still include Dim8 in the flag array and numerical nomenclature, lest anyone forget.”

  “Forget what?” Isaiah asked, taking a bite of an oddly shaped cracker. It dissolved in his mouth and tasted like salty chalk. He tried not to gag. “What happened to Dim8?”

  Duna frowned. “I had not anticipated sharing this piece of our history with you all so soon, but it is important to understand the past, for it guides the future.” They set their cup carefully on its saucer. “In the earliest days, before the Station was built, the dimensions—or balloons—were all floating freely. Dim1 bumped into Dim2. They shared information and technology. They traded goods. They coexisted peacefully. In time, they encountered a third dimension. Then a fourth and fifth.

  “These relatively peaceful encounters continued until contact was made with the eighth dimension. Dim8 contained a harsh, barely hospitable planet called Empyria with an even harsher ruler. It was discovered that the Empyrean One was exploiting a nearby ninth dimension, draining the planet of its resources and enslaving the gentle Nhar-lite people.

  “The original seven dimensions refused to stand idly by and watch one dimension overpower another. They intervened and drew the ire of the Empyrean One. What followed was the bloodiest interdimensional battle the multiverse has ever known. Millions of lives were lost.”

  “But it was seven against one,” Lewis said, stuffing his face with crackers and guzzling sludgy tartea. “It should have been easy!”

  “Should have been, yes. But it wasn’t. The leader of Empyria was ruthless, conniving, greedy. Everyone underestimated the power she possessed, the cruelty and capabilities of her weaponry. The original seven dimensions formed an alliance—the original Multiverse Allied Council—and planned to retaliate with a collective strike on the Empyrean One.

  “Before they could launch their attack, a massive cosmic disruption occurred within Dim8. A black hole formed, swallowing Empyria and everything around it. In order to save the rest of the multiverse from being sucked into the black hole’s ravenous nothingness, the newly formed MAC untethered Dim8, essentially cutting it off from the rest of us forever.”

  Dev wished so badly that he could take notes or record everything Duna was saying so that he could share it with his dad.

  “What was the cosmic disruption?” Isaiah asked, equal parts intrigued and terrified.

  Duna shook their head. “No one knows exactly. Many believe the Empyrean One herself created it, choosing to sacrifice the lives of everyone and everything on her own planet, rather than surrender.”

  Isaiah’s gray eyes widened. “So, could Dim8 still be out there somewhere, a lone balloon just floating around? Could the Empyrean One be hiding within the folds of interdimensional darkspace, licking her wounds, awaiting an opportunity to reemerge?”

  “Geez, Isaiah!” Maeve huffed, throwing her hands in the air. “Way to bring the doom!”

  Duna frowned, as though the idea was deeply unnerving. “My understanding is that the untethering was successful. That balloon has popped and its string has been cut, so to speak. The demise of Dim8 may be part of our shared past, but thankfully Empyria is not a threat to our future.”

  Isaiah nodded, but he couldn’t shake the twinge of doubt he felt deep in his chest.

  Duna touched a finger to their pewter pin, a thirteen-pointed star Isaiah had noticed Shro also wearing. “I am proud to serve on a council that fights for justice. We were unified through hardship, and it made us stronger.”

  “What happened after the war?” Tessa asked.

  “It took centuries for the multiverse to recover. Since then, the MAC has been cautious about the inclusion of new dimensions into the council. I suppose that is why so many delegates have been reticent to accept Dim14, your home dimension, with open arms. Especially since it took Earthlings so long to cross the Threshold.” Duna sat up a little taller and inspected their lynk. “Which reminds me, when do you expect Mr. Finto to join us?”

  Maeve scowled. “Who is this Finto guy anyway? That’s the second time someone’s mentioned him, but I have no idea who he is.”

  “Me neither,” Dev added.

  Duna nearly spit out their tartea. “He is the delegate from Earth, of course! Just as I am the delegate from Mertanya. We all report to Station Liminus for a few days each month to address a variety of multiverse issues. We vote on expansion plans, negotiate trade partnerships, share vital information, and oversee cross-dimensional judiciary matters. Some delegates have more permanent leadership posts within the Station, such as Quirg, who acts as custodian of the Gates, and Ignatia, who presides over the entire council.”

  Maeve frowned. “So, where’s Mr. Finto now?”

  “Back on Earth, I presume,” Duna said. “Though I’m hopeful he’ll arrive at the Station soon.”

  “What I want to know is who put him in charge?” Tessa said, growing annoyed. “My mother is a politician, and if Earth picked someone to represent all of us, we should have had some say in the matter.”

  “That is not my area of expertise,” Duna replied. “How each planet chooses to govern their populations is not something the MAC gets involved with, for the most part. Ignatia believes each dimension should remain relatively autonomous. So long as they play nice in the interdimensional sandbox, that is. I don’t know how Salvido Finto was selected, but he did seem woefully unprepared for the task at hand. Which is why you five were summoned.”

  “Summoned to do what exactly?” Maeve asked, treading carefully. “I’m still unclear on that part …”

  Duna blinked. “To use your high-level skills to aid in terraforming efforts, and assist with regenerex
mining, among other things.”

  “Sorry, what?” Lewis said, scratching his head.

  “To help save your planet, of course,” Duna replied as though this were the most obvious thing.

  Isaiah startled. “Wait, why does our planet need saving?” He remembered the visions he’d been having more frequently, apocalyptic landscapes that flashed before his eyes during quivers, then disappeared just as quickly.

  Duna’s brow furrowed. “You really don’t know?”

  “Know what, Duna?” Dev said, growing concerned.

  Duna scrubbed a hand across their forehead. “I didn’t expect to have to deliver this news, too. I’m sorry, Earthlings, but your home is on the brink of collapse.”

  26

  EARTH

  Zoey waited outside the girls’ locker room. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. Where was Tessa? Band practice was about to start and her sister was totally MIA. She typed an irritated message into her eChron watch and waited for Tessa to send some snarky reply, but nothing happened. Zoey had assumed Tessa would be itching to change back into her normal clothes and return to her regular, much cooler identity, but she was nowhere to be found. Maybe the field trip had run late? Maybe the quiver had caused some traffic delays?

  Then Zoey spotted Gage and Blake coming down the hallway. “Hey! Guys!” she called out, giving a wave, remembering that they were friends with Tessa and had gone to NASA today, too.

  “OMG, that was the worst field trip ever!” Blake said dramatically. “I missed you, girl!” She gave Zoey a hug, which was super weird because popular girls like Blake never gave her the time of day. Except when she was disguised in her sister’s designer clothes, apparently.

  “What was so bad about it?” Zoey asked, trying to get back in character and act like Tessa. Cool and aloof, a note of boredom perpetually woven into her voice, like she always had something better to do. Like she was granting you some sort of favor by giving you the smallest ounce of her attention.