The Heisenberg Corollary

by C H Duryea

  “Must be a metabolic by-product,” Harbinger said, “of consuming the lichen.”

  The others looked at him.

  “You mean farts?” Vibeke said. “You mean that we’re being towed by space-polliwog farts?”

  “Space lichen-eating remora-polliwog farts,” Harbinger corrected. “But, yes, that appears to be an accurate characterization of our present conditions.”

  “Looks like we’re about to elaborate on that characterization,” Zeke said. He was the only one looking straight ahead through the viewport. The others turned forward.

  The gassy boundary of the nebula was growing closer.

  “You don’t think,” Augie mused, “that those gasses were created by these creatures do you?”

  Nobody answered because the question suddenly seemed quite beside the point.

  Whatever the nebula was made out of, the polliwog-remoras were pulling them inside it.

  Seven

  The polliwog-remoras pulled the Friendly Card deeper and deeper into the blue-green mists of the nebula.

  “I wish we had some functioning sensors,” Zeke admitted. “I would love to know the composition of these gasses.”

  Harbinger and Augie exchanged smirks.

  “But, sir,” Harbinger said, “if we go into the nebula, our shields and sensors will be useless!”

  Zeke looked at both of them. “This boat has shields?”

  “Apologies, my friend,” Augie said, stifling a grin, “it would take too long to explain.”

  “Object!” Vibeke stabbed her finger forward. “Dead ahead!"

  They all turned to look as the blue-green gasses resolved into a slightly darker blue-green shape emerging—and approaching fast.

  “Collision course,” Zeke warned. “Brace for impact!”

  But they didn’t collide. At the last moment, the polliwog-remoras changed bearing and steered the Friendly Card to one side of the dark, floating shape ahead.

  As they came around the obstacle, its details became visible.

  It was a ship. A long, slender vessel with a narrow snout under a wide set of windows from the bridge—or what looked to be the bridge. The aft end flared out to accommodate an impressive set of thrusters, and the engines appeared cold. There were no lights, no signs of activity.

  “Derelict,” Harbinger said.

  “What’s it doing in here?” Narissa asked.

  “Not sure I wanna know,” Vibeke answered.

  “Charles,” Augie said quietly, “what do you suppose the odds are of nearly colliding with a randomly placed obstacle in a nebula this size?”

  “Hard to say,” Harbinger answered. “Ten to the twentieth to one maybe? Unless it’s not random.”

  Vibeke turned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, either that was an insane coincidence or those critters outside knew where they were taking us.”

  “Another one,” Zeke said.

  They looked as another hulk slowly resolved out of the mist. This one was roundish and squat.

  “It doesn’t look anything like the other one,” Vibeke commented.

  “Except it’s just as dead,” Zeke confirmed.

  The Friendly Card kept drifting slowly through the misty void. As they went, they passed more and more equally dead vessels.

  “This is some kind of spaceship graveyard,” Narissa said nervously.

  “Do you suppose,” Augie asked, “that our transporters believe we will soon be as bereft of life as these?”

  “I believe,” Harbinger said, “that this whole situation has the potential to rapidly start sucking.”

  “You’re just coming to that conclusion now?” Narissa asked.

  “But that’s not necessarily bad.”

  Zeke looked at Harbinger. “Meaning?”

  “In gaming,” he said, “when things start to look really bad—that’s when the campaign really starts.”

  “How reassuring.”

  The ships began to come closer together, and soon Zeke saw that some of them were held to one another with what looked like scaffolding.

  “Movement,” Augie said, pointing ahead.

  Sure enough, there came into view a strand of loosely connected ships, with smaller ships and vehicles moving about. As they came closer, they saw the tiny shapes of figures on EVA around the structures.

  “We are not alone,” Harbinger crowed.

  “Would you knock off the old movie lines,” Narissa said.

  “Yeah,” Zeke said. “Especially the ones I don’t get.”

  “I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “Oh, brother.” Narissa groaned.

  “Who’s Dave?” Vibeke asked.

  A series of muted popping sounds erupted around the ship and suddenly the polliwog-remoras floated away from the ship and disappeared like a school of fish into the distant green fog.

  A light on the console began to flash, accompanied by a plaintive beeping. Zeke did a double-take at it.

  “It’s the external comm channel,” he said. “We’re being hailed.”

  They all looked at each other.

  “What should we do?” Vibeke said.

  “From a GM’s perspective,” Harbinger said. “There’s really only one option. Answer it.”

  “Does anyone remember their exolinguistics?” Augie asked.

  “Blast it,” Zeke said. He toggled the overhead speakers and punched the comm.

  “This is the Friendly Card,” he said.

  “Friendly Card?” a voice said.

  Augie and Narissa exchanged a glance.

  “Pretty good phonetic reconstruction,” Narissa said.

  “I would tell you to cut your engines,” the voice continued, “but in your case that appears unnecessary.”

  Vibeke reached across from the co-pilot’s seat, grabbed the fabric of Zeke’s sleeve, and twisted.

  “English,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes fixed on the structure ahead of them. “Why are they speaking in English?”

  “I would ask you the same question,” the voice replied.

  “The accent’s a bit odd,” Zeke muttered. “It sounds vaguely Russian, but it’s English all right.”

  “Who’s got the odd accent?” the voice retorted.

  “Parallel universe,” Narissa said. “There’s English—or at least a close analogue of it—spoken here.”

  “Of course there is,” Harbinger said, almost to himself. “Otherwise, why would we be here?”

  “I haven’t got all rotation,” the voice said. “If you have any ancillary thrusters or maneuvering jets on, we would ask that you disengage them now. And deactivate all power throughout your vessel. You can leave your life support on auxiliary.”

  Augie leaned towards the pickup. “Our airlock is compromised. We need to dry dock.”

  “Yes, we are not blind here. Remain at station-keeping, and we will tow you to a pressurized bay.”

  “We’re oxygen breathers,” Vibeke said. “Is that an issue?”

  There was a brief pause and some background noise that might have been talking.

  The voice came back. “You’ll live.”

  “Best news I’ve heard all day,” Zeke said.

  A small tug-drone zipped up to the Friendly Card’s snout and latched on with what Zeke assumed was a magnetic lock. From down under the flight deck came a loud clank a hum that felt like vibration transfer. An array of articulated attitude jets popped out of the drone like telescoping eyes from a crab and fired a series of precise bursts—and they were moving again.

  As they came closer to the hub of activity, they saw that this was not just a loose chain of abandoned ships. Before them, what appeared to be a large space station loomed out of the blue-green gloom.

  It was made entirely of smaller vessels—hundreds of them, forming a jagged, irregular structure easily the size of the XARPA platform.

  “Holy Moly,” Vibeke breathed.

  Harbinger had his dice out in his hand,
quietly clicking as they rolled. Zeke could practically see the math running through Narissa’s brain as she contemplated the physics of the thing.

  Augie’s eyes lit up as they approached. The station may have been a design nightmare, but it was an engineer’s dream.

  “Look at it,” he said. “The way they have it gantried together—it’s like a big jigsaw puzzle. I gotta see how they power this thing, and how they manage life support and rotational stability.”

  “One thing at a time,” Zeke said. “We don’t know what we’re getting into here.”

  “It’s a dungeon,” Harbinger said. They all looked at him. “Metaphorically speaking, that is. In a gaming context, this is the time for the player characters to check out the situation. Who we make nice with. What we can pick up. What our mission is here.”

  “Our mission,” Zeke said, “is to stay alive.”

  “And I am not a player character,” Narissa added.

  Harbinger shrugged. “Just trying to suggest a philosophical approach.”

  “I prefer a more straightforward one,” Zeke said. He turned to Augie. “Your behind the scenes tour is going to have to wait. I need you to stay with the ship and try to facilitate any repairs our hosts are inclined to help us with.”

  “And where, may I ask, will you be going?” he said.

  “I’m not sure yet. But assuming we have hosts or benefactors here, I want to meet them.”

  The drone disengaged and the Friendly Card drifted free towards a small landing bay that looked like it used to be a big cargo hatch. The ship’s momentum did the rest. They drifted right into the bay where a couple of articulated metal arms reached out and locked onto the hull. The rearview monitor showed doors sliding shut behind them, enclosing the ship. A loud mechanical hiss issued from outside, and Vibeke checked a gauge on the sensor panel.

  “The bay is pressurizing,” she reported.

  “Is it the right pressure?” Zeke asked.

  She took another look at the gauge, then turned to him. “We’ll live.”

  “Then let’s go meet our hosts,” Zeke said, climbing out of the pilot’s seat.

  “Please exercise caution when opening the overhead bins,” Augie said, “as items may have shifted during flight.”

  “You’ve shifted during flight,” Narissa cracked.

  “Chuck,” Zeke said. “Grab the handheld comm units.”

  Harbinger retrieved a set of small comm devices from a pair of brackets on the wall and followed the others out to the airlock.

  “Ready?” Zeke asked.

  “A little late to be asking that,” Augie replied.

  “Just trying to be cinematic.”

  “Maybe that will work for you,” Harbinger said, slapping a comm unit into Zeke’s hand, “when you’ve accumulated a little cinematic presence.”

  “What the hell’s that?”

  “A stat modification I made up. It’s a luck roll based on the ratio of heroism to charisma.”

  “Oh, brother.”

  Zeke spun a wheel that uncovered the airlock switch. He toggled it and the inner door hissed open. The air outside smelled of ozone and grease, with a subtle hint of orange soda.

  “At least we can breathe without chewing,” Harbinger said as the boarding steps unfolded.

  The landing bay was barely lit, dirty and scorched. As the group stepped down to the deck, there was nobody in sight.

  “Some reception,” Augie said. “Is this any way to greet visitors from beyond the universe?”

  Suddenly, a door at the back of the bay hissed open and two figures emerged from a darkened accessway.

  The first was a humanoid. He seemed normal enough, if it weren’t for the machinery on his face and hands, which Zeke suspected had something to do with spacecraft maintenance.

  The other was a squat creature that looked like the offspring of a mushroom and an octopus. It floated creepily across the floor on centipede-like feet, and its upper body was covered in prehensile tentacles, each one holding a different hand tool.

  The two locals walked up to the group and said nothing at first. They looked at them, then looked up at the ship. This was the first time Zeke saw the Friendly Card’s exterior up close. It looked like some angry deity had played kick the can with it. When he looked closer, he could see that some remnants of the space lichen still clung to the ship’s titanium skin. The locals turned away from the ship and looked at each other—if the mushroom-octopus mechanic could, in fact, be said to look. They may have been conferring.

  “Your ship,” the humanoid said.

  “Yeah, we know,” Augie said. “It’s seen better days.”

  “What is this ‘days?’”

  “Can you help us with it?” Zeke asked.

  “We have a large stock of spare parts,” the humanoid said. “You saw it coming in.”

  “That’s great,” Augie said. “We could use—”

  “But it will cost you.”

  The travelers exchanged glances.

  “What passes for currency around here?”

  “What do you have to trade?” the humanoid asked. “Offer me something of value, and I will repay with necessary upgrades to your vessel.”

  They turned and faced each other in a small circle.

  “Is there anything sellable on this tub?” Zeke asked quietly.

  “We can see if they like what comes out of the autoslop,” Augie said.

  “Most of the systems are trashed,” Harbinger said. “We could sell the whole ship for scrap and maybe buy another one.”

  “How likely is that?” Narissa said.

  “We can’t sell the Friendly Card,” Zeke said, “without making a production uninstalling the Frogger. And they’re gonna be curious about it if we haul it along with us. No, we can’t take that chance. I don’t even want them to know about it.”

  “What about the NeuralNav?” Harbinger asked.

  “No,” Vibeke said decisively. “Out of the question.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s wired to Vee’s circuitry,” Zeke said, coming to her rescue. “It’s junk in anyone else’s hands.”

  “If you’ll allow me to make a suggestion?” the humanoid said.

  They turned to the locals.

  “We’re listening,” Zeke said.

  “If you go to the,” he paused, searching for a word, “the armillary. Go inside and find the armillary. There you can find—other ways to trade.”

  Harbinger whipped around to the others.

  “See,” he whispered enthusiastically. “This is what I was talking about! We gotta get to the armillary. That’s where we’ll find out what we’re doing here.”

  “These people seem to be barter-friendly,” Zeke said. “All right. We’ll go to this armillary, whatever it is. But not all of us.”

  “Right,” Harbinger said. “The women should stay here.”

  Vibeke and Narissa glared at him.

  “Excuse me,” they both said.

  “No,” Zeke said. “Chuck, you and Augie stay here. Take advantage of the dry dock time and see if you can’t barter your mechanical or coding skills for some repairs.”

  “Are you kidding?” Harbinger complained. “I don’t want to miss this!”

  Augie planted a hand on Harbinger’s shoulder. “You go,” he said. “What we need is mostly mechanical. Any upgrades to the mainframe can wait for you to have your fun.”

  Zeke turned back to the humanoid. “Okay, where do we find this armillary of yours?”

  “Through those doors,” the local said, pointing back the way the mechanics had come in. “Keep moving towards the interior. You’ll find it.”

  “I’ll stay with Augie,” Narissa said.

  “Actually, I’d like you to come. We might be able to use your number-crunching skill if we get into any substantive negotiations. You come too, Vee.”

  “Why?” Vibeke asked.

  “Because you’re the toughest one here. Let’s go.”

  Eigh
t

  Zeke and the others made their way deeper into the maze of interconnected vessels. The station was densely populated with all manner of sentient life. Fortunately, many of those forms were humanoid, so the party did not stand out in any significant way, other than looking more lost than the rest.

  “So where’s this armillary?” Vibeke asked.

  “Given the size of this aggregation of ships,” Harbinger said, “there should be enough structural integrity towards the center to allow for more open space.”

  “My guess is that’s what we’re looking for,” Zeke said.

  As they went farther, the cramped passageways gave way to gradually widening concourses. Up ahead, the light began to brighten, and the sounds became wide and echoey.

  Then, almost without warning, they came out into a huge, spherical space. Around the space’s center point, an array of circular walkways radiating in concentric circles spun and rotated like a huge, mad gyroscope. Some twist in the artificial gravity held rows of businesses and merchants, along with armies of pedestrian traffic, on the rotating rings. But there was nothing structural holding the array to the inner surface of the sphere. From where they stood, Zeke could see many accessways just like the one they currently stood on.

  The station’s denizens jumped and floated from the accessways to the rings, and once there, from one ring freely to another.

  “Well that’s not something you see every day,” Zeke said.

  “Looks like there’s only one way out there,” Narissa said.

  “So do we just jump?” Vibeke asked. “I don’t want to commit only to learn too late about some arcane rule for negotiating the AG.”

  “It’ll be the second blind jump we’ve made today,” Harbinger noted.

  “Has it really been less than a day?” Vibeke asked.

  “What is this ‘day’?” Narissa asked, and they jumped.

  Zeke knew how to handle himself in zero-G—he had been doing it for years. But even with years of experience, the moving targets created by the revolving rings still felt disorienting.

  They managed the jump—just barely. Vibeke’s feet caught a jutting ledge that seemed intended for incoming traffic, but Zeke and Narissa missed it. The AG grabbed her feet and hauled her down, and Harbinger flailed about and managed to grab a railing. Vibeke pulled in the other two.