by C. Gockel
“Would you play it on Bracelet?” Volka asked. “For Sundancer and me?” Everyone in the bridge looked at her, and her ears went back. “I think the hologram on Bracelet was how Sundancer knew where to go the first time…right, Carl?”
“Yes!” said Carl Sagan. “That must have been how! I don’t think she follows ether conversations…or, well, conversation at all.”
“Of course!” said Trina, in the real world and in 6T9’s mind.
A hologram shot up from the apex of Volka’s bracelet, revealing S33O4 and Time Gate 33. There was a stain of black in one of the oceans spreading from the western coastline of the smaller of the planet’s two continents. Sundancer’s translucent walls and ceiling became dark gray. Static erupted along 6T9’s spine.
“What’s happening?” one of the Marines asked.
“She sees the hologram,” Volka replied, her ears flat against her head, avoiding everyone’s gaze.
The hologram of S33O4 spun, and at the center of the second larger continent, a blue light shone. “That’s where they will most likely be,” said Trina. The image zoomed to a region with sparse trees and mountainous terrain.
“Well,” said Young, his voice angry. “Why aren’t we moving?”
Sundancer jerked so violently that 6T9 almost pitched over. Carl fell to his ten legs. Volka fell to a crouch, and even the space-legged Marines rocked on their feet. The light in the bridge dropped so that the only illumination came from the tablet that Jerome was using to establish a local ether hub.
Rising from her crouch, tiny hands balling into fists, Volka snapped at Young, “She’s scared!” 6T9 marveled at how quickly she’d gone from ears back, shy, and self-effacing to selflessly, near-violent in defense of a friend.
“What is she, some sort of child?” Young shouted back at Volka.
“She’s over a million years old!” Volka growled. “Don’t call her a child just because she won’t—”
“Ahem!” Carl squeaked. Snarling, Volka’s head snapped to the werfle. Carl held up a paw. “Sundancer might be a child…” His whiskers twitched. “We actually have no idea how starship development works. She could be a juvenile of her species. In fact…” He scratched behind an ear. “It might explain a few things. The gaps in her cognition for instance. A creature that skips through time but can’t talk. Perhaps the first is instinctual, but the second is learned. She is a creature of emotion…that is childlike.”
6T9 hadn’t noticed the background noise on the bridge—the shuffling of bodies and feet, murmurs, hands checking equipment, and steady inhale and exhale of breath—but at Carl’s words, there was a moment there was near silence.
Massaging his temples, Young growled, “Anyone have experience with children?” His eyes slid to the man with a child. “No offense, but you haven’t been home since your kid was born.”
“I do,” 6T9 volunteered.
The eyes of every Marine shot toward him. They shifted closer to 6T9, hands balling into fists and jaws tight. 6T9’s Q-comm sparked in understanding. “Not that kind of experience!” 6T9’s skin prickled with white-hot static. He wanted…he wanted…His head tic returned. He took a step toward Young. “Easy, 6T9,” James said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
6T9 ripped it off. “I don’t have sex with children!”
“We know,” said Volka more softly, her hand going to his opposite arm.
6T9 couldn’t meet Volka’s eyes. He had overreacted. But the accusation, even unspoken, had been abhorrent. It wasn’t just that he was programmed not to desire children; with his Q-comm he could understand how violating children would harm them. That humans would think, for a millisecond, that he could be capable of that made him want to…his head jerked to the side again, and his circuits fired in frustration at the thought he couldn’t even complete.
Standing on his hindmost limbs beside Volka, Carl twisted to the group. “During Admiral Sato’s and Mr. Sinclair’s escape from Luddeccea before Revelation, 6T9 minded children in their escape craft.”
“There were children aboard the Ark?” someone asked.
“It was a very professional operation,” James said dryly. “6T9, how would you handle a toddler who needed to do something frightening?”
Letting his fists unclench, 6T9 responded, “I would empathize first,” 6T9 responded, “and then once the child was calm, I’d try to coax them. I only forced him if absolutely necessary.” His eyes roved Sundancer’s dark hull. “Forcing isn’t an option we have.”
“All right,” said Young, rubbing his jaw. “How do we do this?”
The acceptance was so fast 6T9 almost believed that he had misheard.
“Marines are very practical,” James said, answering 6T9’s unspoken question.
6T9 inclined his head toward Volka and Carl. “Sundancer can’t feel the emotions of androids. Volka and Carl will have to help you.”
Volka rolled on her heels and cleared her throat as all eyes on the ship fell on her. “We have to feel about how the dark water…the thing on the time gate and the people there, scares us. And then we have to think of the humans—”
“John!” Trina said.
Nodding at her, Volka finished, “Who will be hurt if we don’t rescue them.”
The rate of shuffling in the room increased. Hands went to hips and to the backs of necks.
“Well,” said Young, turning to his team. “You heard her…lives are depending on us…Think about—”
“Feel about,” Carl said.
“Feel about what scares us and then about what we have to do.”
Volka and Carl bowed their heads. From the Marines, there were hard stares. Men wiped their jaws and stamped their feet. One of them glanced around, bowed his head, and put his hands together. 6T9’s eyebrows lifted. Another theist? They were as rare in the Republic as atheists in Luddeccea. Another man closed his eyes. The woman shook her head and gave a nervous smile.
“Can’t we do anything to help?” Trina whispered. “John…and the others are my friends, too.”
“No,” said 6T9, circuits dimming. But around the feet of the Marines who were concentrating, Volka, and Carl, Sundancer’s hull went from dark gray to light. Seeing it, some of the other humans closed their eyes, and then every figure on the bridge turned to light as Sundancer transported them faster than the speed of light.
“Did we do it?” one of the Marines asked when they were solid again. “Did we jump through space-time again?”
“Yes, we jumped again,” said Carl, “But—”
Whatever he said next was drowned out by cheers.
And then the opacity of the walls, ceiling, and floor fell away.
6T9 gaped.
The bridge, once again, went silent.
What hovered in the void outside them was not System 33, not natural, and not made by humans or their machines. But it was immediately and obviously terrifying.
12
Dark Worlds
Volka stared out of the ship in horror. Hovering just outside were the corpses of beings that weren’t precisely human. Their heads were enlarged at the crown with pointed chins, their eyes—frozen over in the void—were enormous, and their noses were flush with their faces. They had hair-like feathers and slender, elongated limbs. Their hands had only four fingers. Their skin was blue, with purple blotches etched with black veins. She swallowed, remembering what Alaric had told her about death in space. “Your capillaries would boil and burst.” Among these beings were other creatures; some looked vaguely like earth kangaroos and others like dogs but with impossibly long tails. There were also car-like conveyances floating among them, blue-faced beings trapped inside.
“Oh,” she murmured.
“What is this?” someone whispered.
“An alien graveyard,” said Carl Sagan.
Volka held her breath, eyes searching the scene. There were too many bodies to count, seemingly of all ages. They stretched in every direction farther than she could see and were lit by a faint orangish light
. There were no stars.
Sundancer accelerated gently, weaving through the cadavers floating in the void, and the source of the light came into view. It was a rough sphere, perhaps the size of 6T9 and Carl’s asteroid. Its surface swirled with orange, yellow, and dark gray and reminded Volka of pictures she’d seen of lava in Luddeccean Geographic magazines. As she watched, a cadaver touched the sphere and was sucked beneath the molten surface, bursting into flames just before it disappeared.
Sundancer veered around the sphere and navigated through the bodies toward something that looked like a crack in the sky—Volka could see starlight through it. As the ship drew closer, she realized it was a crack, and the “sky” was a sphere they were inside. Protruding from its inner surface were icy, skeletal tree-like shapes, houses, and other buildings. Here and there she could see the frozen surfaces of lakes and rivers.
“Sixty,” she whispered, “could you give me one of your data dumps?”
“It’s an artificial world,” Sixty replied. “The molten core at the center must have served as its sun.”
They drew closer to the crack in the sphere. Along the edge, cables buckled inward, their ends weirdly frayed. Sixty said, “An explosion must have exposed them to the vacuum. You’d think that a civilization like this would have a defense force…” His voice trailed off as Sundancer slipped through the gaping hole in the sphere. Hulking vessels, all dark, some shattered, hung in the void outside the sphere.
“What did this?” someone whispered.
Sundancer’s hull became opaque again.
Volka’s ears went back. She could feel the answer in the pit of her stomach. It was the Dark from the nightmare. She turned, ready to explain, and her eyes caught those of a Fleet Marine. They were such a light, saturated brown that they were nearly orange, a shade she associated with weere, not humans. And then light spilled from his eyes, spread to his body, the rest of the ship, the crew, and Volka herself. They were traveling faster-than-light again.
She found her eyes still locked on the Marine when they rematerialized. Averting her gaze to the floor, she whispered, “Whatever took over Trina—I mean, Time Gate 33—it destroyed that world. Sundancer’s warning us…” Her breath caught and the hair on her head rose. Something was still wrong.
Carl began squeaking frantically. “It’s here! And stronger! Sundancer, we believe you. Get us out of here!”
“Where are we?” Young asked, eyes going to the now-opaque walls.
Jerome—who Volka thought was some sort of communications officer—shook his head. “No local ether, sir. I don’t think we’re in the Republic.”
“We have to get out of here,” Carl cried, but Sundancer didn’t turn to light and leave. Instead, the opacity of the hull fell away again. Below them was a world with swirling clouds, much like Luddeccea’s, S33O4, or Earth. But beneath the clouds, there was only black.
Staring down at it, Trina put a hand on the hull. “It looks like the water where the asteroid struck S33O4.”
Young stepped back and looked up at the ceiling. “I get it. You’re trying to warn us, but this is more reason for us to rescue our people.” Nothing happened, but then Young put a hand to his helmet and growled. Once more the hull became opaque; a moment later, they were light. When they solidified, the walls became transparent again. They were floating outside another planet, only distinguished from the last by the abundance of orbitals. Every hair on Volka’s body stood on end, and she shivered. Carl squeaked pitifully and hid his head in his paws. “Not here! Not here! It’s even worse!”
There were the wrecks of ships in orbit and what might be satellites, all dark and forbidding. Sundancer accelerated through the debris, and a larger structure came into view. It looked like a sort of space station and might once have been disk-shaped, but now had a jagged edge of sharp struts jutting out from one side. At the very center of the disk shape was another orange, molten core structure like the one they’d just seen in the sphere.
“I know, I know,” Young said, shaking his head. “It’s dangerous. We might die. But—”
A piece of debris broke free from the others. It was only the size of Volka’s joined hands, but when it hit Sundancer’s side, the ship trembled. Sundancer had been struck by drones and by phaser fire, and Volka hadn’t even felt it, but this time, at the site of impact, the hull became an opaque, dark gray, and strands of opacity snaked out from the spot. Volka’s stomach curled inward, and she felt the same sense of wrongness she’d felt at Gate 33. A high-pitched wail ripped through the bridge, hitting Volka’s eardrums like needles. She fell to one knee and heard someone scream in pain. She threw her hands over her ears and felt the ship shake. The wailing stopped, but Sundancer shook. More snaking strands of gray opacity spread across the hull, and the ship became dark. Tears left hot trails on Volka’s cheeks, and the inside of her ears felt like they were on fire.
She was dimly aware of 6T9 dropping to his knees beside her and someone saying too calmly, “The radiation levels in here are rising fast, Lieutenant.”
The bridge was getting darker under the impact of the spreading strands. For a moment, everyone aboard appeared to flicker, but then Sundancer jerked, and through a tiny portion of the hull that was still transparent, Volka saw that the ship was hurtling toward the core of the space station. Volka blinked, and then the view was obscured by more debris hitting the ship, shaking the vessel and turning the hull nearly black. She tried to stand, but the floor jerked out from beneath her, and she pitched backward. She landed on her back, but thankfully, her head hit something that wasn’t the floor. She smelled metal, plastic—the peculiar scent that was Sixty—and Bart, Celeste, and sex. Around her, she heard shouts, Carl squealed, and people tumbled to the floor. Before she could right herself, Sundancer hit something head-on, and Volka went sliding forward. Her feet hit the hull, and she gasped. Where the ship had struck, the wall went from dark gray to Sundancer’s normal pearlescent ivory and then became translucent again. The scene outside was a lake of lava. Orange light and heat filled the bridge. Bracelet began screaming, “Radiation levels dangerous. Immediately seek shelter!”
The orange spread over the hull—not in a frightening, snaking pattern—evenly, as though Sundancer was sinking into orange bathwater. Sweat broke out on Volka’s brow, and the air in her lungs was too hot to be a relief. Bracelet blinked frantically and told her unhelpfully, “The temperature is dangerous to human life. Oxygen levels dropping.” Sundancer trembled, and for a moment was submerged in the molten bath. Volka hated to breathe, hated the heat in her lungs, and she froze in place, trying to conserve oxygen. Her hands tightened on a weight on her stomach. She heard someone say, “Thermal blankets might insulate us from the—”
And then the ship was pearly ivory again. The incessant beeping stopped. Bracelet declared, “Radiation levels dropping,” and the next breath Volka took was cool. She loosened her grip on the weight on her waist and realized it was 6T9’s arm. Her head was pillowed on his other arm. Around them, the Marines, Trina, and James—who she suspected was an android—rose to a sitting position. Volka didn’t move. Remembering her head nearly cracking on the floor, her hands tightened on Sixty again. “Sixty, are you all right?”
Carl’s necklace crackled. “Is he ever really all right?”
“Carl,” Volka hissed. “That’s not nice.”
“I’ve just witnessed Armageddon. I’m trying to inject a bit of levity into the moment,” Carl grumbled.
Sixty’s breath brushed her ear. “My Q-comm is still online if that’s what you mean.”
He was warm and comforting, but folding back her ears, she unclenched her fingers and sat up. Sixty did the same beside her. Close by, Trina rose, and all throughout the bridge, Marines did the same. By some unspoken agreement, they all remained sitting.
James rubbed his eyes. “Well, we know the organism dies in fire.”
The female Marine said, “And that whatever it is can harm the spaceship. None of our weapons can d
o that.”
Young growled in frustration. “More reason to get to S33O4 as soon as possible.”
“Agreed,” said Carl, hopping among the humans and androids. “We need to get to Dr. Lang. We need to know what she knows. She’s too far away from any of the One for us to read her mind.”
All heads in the room snapped to the werfle. “Our intelligence didn’t inform us you can read human minds,” said Young.
“We can warp the quantum wave with our minds. We can create pestilence, form ether waves, start fires—”
“Fires?” said someone.
“Of course. We’re telepathic,” Carl finished.
There were murmurs that sounded vaguely angry.
“Add telekinesis to that list, too,” Volka heard Sixty say, but she was distracted by Trina. Sitting next to Volka, Trina had pulled her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. “Oh, John, I’m trying,” she whispered so faintly, a human wouldn’t have heard it in the din.
Volka put a hand on Trina’s arm and whispered back, “I’m sure he knows you love him and that you’re trying.”
Raising her head, Trina said, “I can’t fall in love. That is for biological organisms, a pheromonal illusion to ensure the survival of their species.” A tear trickled down the android’s cheek. Trina wiped it away and then stared down at the droplet, her expression confused.
Volka didn’t believe her for a moment. She was in love, whether she knew it or not. “Has John seen you in this form?” she wondered aloud.
Wiping away another tear, Trina shook her head in the negative.
John, Volka realized, probably had no idea Trina was in love, either.
Young’s voice rang out in the din. “We must get to S33O4. It’s more important than ever. You’ve voiced your telepathic superiority to us, werfle. Can you communicate how much we need to get there with the ship?”
Holding up two paws, Carl squeaked, and his necklace crackled. “I will try.”