by C. C. Ekeke
V’Korram’s ears flattened. He was looking surly again. “Vertex and Arcturus are at Magnasterium, guarding Ghuj’aega.” The venom in those last words prickled at Habraum. Now the Kintarian wouldn’t meet his gaze. Something happened between him and Ghuj’aega during my absence. The Cerc almost didn’t want specifics.
“Hey Braum,” Solrao’s drowsy cadence boomed over the ship comms. “Glad you’re not dead.”
Habraum snorted, almost laughing at her directness. “Glad not to be dead, Sollie.”
“There’s more,” Khrome added.
Habraum rolled his eyes. Of course. “Out with it.”
V’Korram, Marguliese, and Khrome exchanged another odd look before the latter continued. They headed toward the ship’s cargo hold.
Habraum frowned in confusion yet followed. “How bad?”
“I was hostile earlier,” Khrome explained, each footstep making clanking noises, “because another singularity opened six orvs earlier.”
“Thought it was you,” V’Korram growled. His footsteps were noiseless despite his massive size.
“It was not,” Marguliese continued as they reached the cargo hold. “The confrontation escalated and became…combative.”
Khrome made a rude noise that resembled scrunched metal. “That’s an understatement. We neutralized and imprisoned the threat in a cell.”
Habraum glanced between the Thulican and the Cybernarr, natural enemies. Yet Khrome’s reply to her wording sounded almost…pleasant. Weird. “Where is this being from?”
“Uncertain,” the Cybernarr said. “He will only engage in discourse with you.”
“I think,” Khrome added, wide eyes unsure. Never a good sign. “Our visitor isn’t from around here.”
The four Star Brigadiers reached the end of Phaeton’s spacious cargo hold, reaching a left side door that Habraum rarely entered. “Show me,” he said.
The door slid open to reveal a smaller, darker room save for the fulsome red glow at the other end. The glow radiated from Phaeton’s confinement cell. A single human occupant crouched against a wall, head bowed as if in prayer. Habraum narrowed his eyes as he slowly approached. Why does this being look so familiar? The prisoner looked up as his visitor approached. He gaped and rose hastily.
Habraum looked long and hard, his brain not believing what his eyes saw. Sensing his mouth hanging open, the Cerc promptly shut it.
“We ran batteries of scans, three times,” V’Korram growled from behind him. “Results were a ninety-nine point thirty-six percent match, including the DNA markers of a maximum. Every time.”
Habraum barely heard his recon. A roar of static seemed to fill his ears.
The human in the prison cell opposite him stood eye to eye with the Cerc. He dressed in a weathered maroon vest over a black long-sleeved tee, with travel-stained brown cargos. Despite the man’s physique being noticeably leaner than Habraum’s, his panther-like movements told the Cerc he could handle himself in a fight. His semi-tamed fro fit well with beard sans mustache cropped close and neat yet covering his jaw. Habraum couldn’t stop staring at the prisoner’s rugged features.
For a heartbeat, he hoped this prisoner was his twin brother Hethoniel. That explanation would made sense. But the Cerc knew Heith possessed no maximal powers.
Under the cell’s red glow, he saw the prisoner’s eyes weren’t a paler hazel-gold like his brother’s.
His eyes resembled pools of liquid gold—just like Habraum’s.
“You Habraum Nwosu?” the prisoner asked.
Habraum gulped hard. “Yea.” He’d known that familiar brogue as long as he could remember.
The prisoner smirked, eyes alight with relief. “Me too.”
Behind Habraum, V’Korram sucked in a sharp gasp.
Find your other self. At first the Particulate’s words had made no sense. As the Cerc stared back at his near mirror image, those words rang through his skull.
“We’ve got shiploads to discuss, I gather,” the other Cercidalean stated, rubbing his hands together.
Habraum could only reply with, “Huh.”
Chapter 17
“Well, this answers one important question,” Khrome said.
Habraum turned away from this alternate version of himself, still sucker-punched by the insanity Star Brigade’s mission had devolved into. “Which answer is that?”
Khrome’s lipless mouth curled into a face-eating grin. “Whether you’re bald by choice.”
Habraum glowered at him, as did V’Korram and Marguliese. “Jan’Hax and I had a bet going,” the Thulican shot back, unfazed by their disapproval. “I won.”
“You have questions?” the other Habraum mercifully interjected. “I have answers.” His golden eyes, identical to Habraum’s, landed on Khrome and hardened. “Let us ‘Habraums’ speak privately.”
The Thulican stopped smiling.
“Anything you tell me, you tell CT-1,” Habraum declared, adamant.
The other Cerc looked annoyed. “Pardon my hesitance. Thulicans aren’t the kindest lot where I’m from.”
“And from where exactly do you originate?” Marguliese’s face was an impassive golden mask, but Habraum could taste the Cybernarr’s mistrust.
“Another universe parallel to yours, but very different.” The other Habraum chuckled, shaking his head as if he doubted his own explanation. “An ‘otherverse,’ if you will.”
Khrome brightened with interest. “An alternate universe?”
“Correct.” The other Habraum glanced at him in distaste. “One of multiple, from what I’ve been told.”
The information didn’t quite sink into Habraum’s brain. Time travel was bad enough. But a multiverse? He fought to stay unyielding on the surface. Is Cortes stuck in another universe? He swallowed a shudder, fearing the answer.
V’Korram made a rude noise. “A multiverse.”
“Yea.” The other Cerc nodded.
Seeing he was serious, V’Korram gawked. “A multiverse?”
“Yes.”
“Wait, a multiverse—?”
“YES,” Habraum barked, pointing vehemently at the other Cerc. “I am staring at an alternate version of myself. Yes, a multiverse!”
“How is this possible?” Khrome asked, more fascinated than ever.
The other Cerc scratched the back of his head, like Habraum would. “No clue, besides knowing the Zenith Point can access it.” His features darkened. “The Particulate snatched me from my universe, swore to send me back after I helped with the Zenith Point problem here.”
V’Korram frowned. “The Particulate?”
Rogguts, that problem. Habraum had more pressing issues. “Where is Liliana Cortes?”
The other Habraum looked up sharply. “Ana-Lucia?” he answered with distinct familiarity.
“Lucia is Lt. Cortes’s middle appellation—” Marguliese noted unhelpfully.
“I know that,” Habraum snapped. “Liliana. Where is she?”
“Don’t know,” the other Cerc replied. “I’m sure you’ll have her back soon.”
“I’ll have her back now,” Habraum demanded.
“I understand.” The other Habraum raised a pacifying hand. “The Liliana from my universe,” he looked baffled uttering those words, “is my best friend, mother to my brother’s children.”
That news shut Habraum up. His brain felt like it was melting.
“What we’re facing with the Zenith Point,” the other Habraum continued, “threatens your universe…and mine. I need Star Brigade’s help to stop this.”
V’Korram clutched at his shaggy head. “My brain hurts,” he growled.
“I’m with ya, lad.” Habraum blinked three times. He combed through the facts hurtling at him, trying to understand this latest revelation. “So Qos, or the Zenith Point, has power, yea?”
“Righto.” The other crimsonborn nodded. “And it’s not really a moon.
Habraum rolled his eyes. “Of course not.”
“I’m not greybrickin
g ya, lad,” the other Cerc continued soberly. “The Zenith Point is a space-time nexus.”
Habraum gaped at his equally stunned team.
Then he burst out laughing, for a long time. Either that or punch his doppelganger. Then I’d be punching myself. That made Habraum laugh harder, drawing concerned looks from his team.
“Now you’re definitely greybricking me,” he said after reining in his mirth.
Khrome, however, looked genuinely ecstatic. “This is so beyond!”
Marguliese, still as a statue, arched an eyebrow. “Interesting,” she stated blandly.
V’Korram sank to a crouch, cradling his own head. “My brain really hurts,” he groaned.
The other crimsonborn looked exhausted of patience. “The what and how are too long a tale.” He paced around in his cell, eyes never leaving Habraum. “Our concern should be finding and destroying Ghuj’aega. He cannot become one with the Zenith Point.”
Habraum couldn’t look away from his intense gaze. So that’s what Sammie’s always complaining about. “What is this Dreamer the Particulate mentioned?”
V’Korram jerked upright. “What. Is. A. Particulate?” he snarled.
Habraum glanced over his shoulder, then back at his other self. “An ancient being and the reason I returned to Faroor.”
“The Dreaming Farooqua is Ghuj’aega’s master.” The other Habraum stopped pacing and eyed the incensed Kintarian. “Ghuj’aega’s body has siphoned a massive amount of power. If he dies while still linked to the Zenith Point, then Aut’ala will be freed from capitvity to travel back in time.”
“Time travel,” Habraum grumbled, almost forgetting about that little wrinkle. Rogguts.
“Shut me down!” Khrome was bouncing on his massive heels. Under different conditions, his excitement might be endearing. “That explains so much! Your and my disappearances. And probably Lily’s.”
“Why does Aut’ala want to travel backwards in time?” Marguliese asked.
“To alter the Farooqua species’ past.” The other Habraum approached the forcefield of his cell. There were dark circles under his glittering eyes. “The Farooqua were once technologically advanced, space travel and the whole lot. But after the Particulates boosted their technology further, they became too destructive, their constant civil wars finally tearing a hole in space-time. The Particulates devolved them into savages as punishment.”
“Taorr mentioned how Ghuj’aega kept raving about fixing the past,” V’Korram growled.
Finally, something that sounded familiar to Habraum. “And the Quud spoke on how their ancestors were not the same as them,” he added. But the Cerc didn’t like hearing that more Particulates existed.
“The Particulates created the Zenith Point to repair the tear,” the other Habraum explained. “One of the Farooqua military leaders back then was Aut’ala, a truly murderous tyrant. His crimes were so terrible, the Particulates trapped him in the heart of the space-time nexus, forcing him to relive his worst transgressions repeatedly. All while being pulled apart molecule by molecule over several millennia.”
Khrome recoiled. Habraum felt his insides lurch. “Ouch.”
“Aut’ala, the Dreamer, wants to travel through time,” the other crimsonborn stated, “and use the Zenith Point’s power to annihilate the Particulates before they destroy his species.”
Marguliese said what Habraum nearly asked. “If the Particulates exert such power, why request our help?”
“What she said,” the Cerc added. Star Brigade’s power notwithstanding, this felt like a battle between the impossible and the invincible.
The other Habraum made a face. “The Particulate was vague on the specifics…” He trailed off, as if trying to remember something at the tip of his tongue.
“But…?” V’Korram demanded rudely.
“He’s the only Particulate left in this universe,” the other Habraum admitted. “He stayed behind as a steward for the Zenith Point’s repairs.
“Somehow, over the centuries, Aut’ala commandeered the Zenith Point. That is how he was able to connect with Ghuj’aega, corrupt him with its power.” He leaned against the cell wall, sliding into a crouch. “The Particulate is doing everything to curb their influence. And it’s killing him.”
Habraum could confirm that fact. During his encounter with the Particulate, the being could barely stand. He breathed in deeply, considering CT-1’s next move. “Alrigh’.” The Cerc looked over his CT with the same resolve he approached every mission with. “We get to Thasque, inform UComm, and find a way to destroy Ghuj’aega. Then we locate Lily and deal with the Zenith Point.”
“We still can’t disconnect Ghuj’aega from the Zenith Point,” Khrome interjected.
“The Farooqua can help,” the other Habraum said. “The Particulate told me they know ways to—”
“Captain,” Solrao interjected via the Phaeton’s comms. “Commander Iecen.”
“Send him through.” Habraum raised a hand to quiet his other self. “Tyris.”
“Captain?” Tyris’s disbelief was palpable.
“Yea.” He smiled hearing the Tanoeen’s voice. “It’s me.”
“Thank the Maker.” Tyris’s joy was short-lived. “There’s a problem.”
Now what? Habraum exchanged concerned glances with his team. “Define problem, Commander.”
“Between UComm and the TDF,” Tyris replied. “They’re in a tug of war over Ghuj’aega. The Ttaunz want to transport him to an offworld megamax prison on Jhod. Shots are about to be fired.”
“No!” the other Habraum shouted, startling everyone. “That will bring Ghuj’aega near the Zenith Point!”
“Uh.” Tyris was justly confused by the outburst from what sounded like his superior officer. “I…agree?”
Habraum gave the other Cerc a warning look. “Sorry. Long story. We’re heading to you. Nwosu out.” He then focused on the immediate, most important task. “Solrao. Take us back to Thasque now.”
Chapter 18
“Europa!” Sam leaned in and backhanded her prisoner across the cheek. “Wake up.”
The prisoner’s head snapped to one side, jolting her awake. She couldn’t jolt too far with her arms and legs restrained in an iron-grey chair.
Confusion dominated Hanson’s swarthy features and grey eyes. She looked trim beneath her dark blue business attire, except the minor apron of pudge around her midsection.
Sam stood before the woman, a smirk on her lips. “You snore loudly, you know that?”
Europa whipped her head of frizzy sandy curls back and forth frantically, taking in her location. Besides where she sat, the rest of the Brigade safe house was doused in shadow.
“Where am I?” She focused on Sam, contempt replacing confusion. “Who are you?”
“A friend, if you cooperate.” Sam knelt in front of her. She scratched at her hair, pulled back in a tight bun. “A foe if you don’t. For your sake, I hope we can be friends.”
Europa’s eyes narrowed in unexpected superiority. “You’re extremely stupid, and will be extremely dead. If I go missing—”
“Don’t worry.” Sam waved off the threat with practiced nonchalance. “As far as everyone knows, you’re on a drive through the Oklorada Basin. You’ve done that from time to time after a long day at ‘work.’”
Europa’s shock was almost amusing. “How—”
“While you were leaving work,” Sam began, recalling the abduction from half an orv ago. “You activated your autodrive and did some reading. Wasn’t hard to slave your hovercar systems to my vehicle’s, then knock you out by triggering your sleep mode. From there, we had your vehicle follow ours, at a distance of course.”
Sam’s amusement grew as Hanson’s horror deepened. “Now you’re somewhere secure and safe while your car loops around the Basin. I hear it’s lovely this time of day.” Sam hoped the interrogation would go as smoothly as the kidnapping. They had limited time before someone realized Europa was actually missing.
Hanson’s
eyes glazed over, the look of someone attempting to activate their NeuroNano programs.
“Ooh, right,” Sam noted as if in afterthought. “Don’t bother trying to ID me with the surveillance nanocytes in your eyes and ears.” Sam couldn’t hide her glee. “All are in sleep mode, naturally.”
Europa’s features danced between shock, loathing, and amusement. “Fine,” she said, settling on amusement. “I’ll bite. Is it currency you want? Name your price.” The words carried such smugness, Sam itched to smack Europa again.
“My price is information from your discussions with your pal M’Kuvuh Markan-Enthyra.”
Europa put on her best confused frown. “M’Kuvuh Markan-Enthyra?” She grimaced, as if in discomfort. “Sounds like a Kintarian—”
“Really, bitch?” Sam snarled. The gall of this xenophobe trash. “You think I don’t know you’re a Children of Earth sleeper agent?”
Europa snorted, undaunted by the accusation. “And you think I don’t know you’re stalling so your partner can read my thoughts? I know how a psychic scan feels, sweetheart.”
Sam hid her surprise expertly. How good are her defenses?
Complex, Jhori replied, sounding thrilled by the challenge. Breaking them down will take time.
Europa wasn’t done lording her amazingness over Sam. “You’ll get nothing outta me.”
Guess it’s the hard way. Euphoria sang through Sam’s veins. “I was so hoping you’d say that.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Jhori. Come say hullo.”
The Korvenite youth stepped into the light, and Europa’s smugness curdled. “Europa doesn’t want to be friends.” Sam looked back at their prisoner. “Act accordingly.”
The Korvenite’s alabaster face was a mask as his gold irises shrank into the blacks of his eyes. Europa grunted and squirmed in her seat under Jhori’s telepathic probe. After a few macroms, Jhori’s eyes returned to their normal gold on black color.
Her defenses are practically militarized. He sighed and rubbed at his crewcut purple hair. I can brute force my way in, but that could either kill her or do permanent damage.