Questor

by L. S. Gibson

  Before anyone else could speak, excitement bubbling over, Henson said, “They can help us get home in a ridiculously short time. They have some kind of device that can bend space to cross vast distances in no time at all. We could be home in months rather than years.”

  “Except it’s not that simple,” added Simpson in an irate tone.

  “No, I’m afraid it’s not simple at all.” Sernov gave an exaggerated sigh. “This is most difficult. Mychlo shouldn’t have mentioned this at all.” He seemed to draw himself up to as full a height as his ancient years would allow. He took a deep breath and continued in a quiet tone, “I’m sure you’ll remember we long ago came to the decision to put away the old technology and not to use it ourselves, or to let anyone else use it. I’m sorry, but our knowledge isn’t for you.”

  “You can’t mean that. After all we’ve been through?” Captain Sullivan asked, decidedly stunned, not just by the news, but also by the refusal. “You know our history just as we know yours. You couldn’t refuse to help us get home to our loved ones.”

  Jon, looking straight at Triena, said in a voice of deep despondency, “I’m afraid they can.”

  “Please, Jon, try to understand,” Triena spoke with desperation in Jon’s mind.

  “Understand what? That you would be so cruel? I’m afraid I can’t understand that. I thought I knew you. Knew your people. I know you have your beliefs but must they be this rigid? In truth, can you excuse this?

  “No, but I could explain it,” she said, but just to herself. She blocked that thought from him.

  The wrangling went on around her but Triena tuned it out. Sernov and the other elders could manage the situation without her input, her own concerns were elsewhere. Jon, too, didn’t want to be involved in the ongoing argument as he’d backed away, leaving his senior officers to handle it.

  “Jon, could we go somewhere quiet to talk?” she asked.

  Jon gazed at her, looking bewildered, but he nodded. As they walked away, Triena saw Mychlo pause and turn in her direction. He gave her a deep bow, touching his forehead, before returning to the heated discussion. She had a sudden flash of pain at what his silent message conveyed and dismissed it at once as she became aware of Jon’s interest in the brief exchange.

  Triena took Jon back to her hut and closed the door, knowing they wouldn’t be disturbed. She took a seat and gestured to Jon to sit too, but he stood and frowned at her.

  “I know something’s wrong but you’re keeping it from me, and I’m not talking about the refusal to help us get home quicker.” Jon sat down then but just on the edge of the chair and went on, “You know what’s worrying me, I didn’t hide it, but you’ve kept your thoughts from me. I understand it’s a difficult choice, and Vrai made it clear I wasn’t helping by not talking to you.”

  “My aunt’s correct, but the fault is mine as much as yours. I know you’ve been struggling to make a decision, and so have I.”

  Jon appeared tense. “Have you decided? I’d like nothing better than for you to come with me, but believe me when I say I understand if you don’t wish to leave your people.”

  Triena closed her eyes, opening them again as she felt Jon take her hands in his. She raised her eyes to meet his gaze.

  “Part of me wants to go home,” Jon confessed. “Besides the fact it’s my duty, the idea of deserting my crewmates leaves me cold. Yet the thought of spending the rest of my life without you hurts so much. I’m torn. Help me. Tell me what you want? Let me inside; let me know how you feel.” Jon tightened his grasp on her hands.

  Triena dropped her eyes. She didn’t want to do this.

  “Triena?” Jon sounded nervous.

  She glanced up and met his gaze again. She wouldn’t be a coward. She took a deep breath. “I want to be with you, Jon, but I can’t leave my people. And I can’t ask you to stay.”

  Jon sucked in a breath. Regarding her steadily, he frowned and said, “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re hiding from me. Are you afraid to let me in?”

  For the first time she dreaded the contact between them but she couldn’t refuse him either. She dropped her defenses allowing him to sense her emotions but she kept a lock on her secret thoughts.

  Jon blinked and let go of her hands. “It’s not just that you can’t ask me to stay, you don’t want me to. You want me to leave with my crew.”

  Triena felt his shock and his pain, but she couldn’t offer him any solace. “The Council of Elders met last evening and there was some disquiet that we’d become too close with your people. Some of the Elders were afraid that in time your people would find a way to take and use our technology.”

  “But that’s not—”

  “It was decided the sooner the Questor leaves Rhiava the better.”

  “I can’t accept you believe we’re any threat to you. That I’m any threat to you!”

  “I don’t believe that, Jon. I love and trust you but I’m also my people’s Spirit, and I have to put their needs first. The Council is of the firm belief the door that was forced open by the Mideans must now be shut tight.”

  “And they—you—want me on the other side of it.” Jon’s pain was palpable, even without Triena’s ability to sense his emotions. It hurt but it had to be.

  “Want? No. Accept that’s the way it has to be? Yes. Please, Jon, try to understand. So much has happened to my people in a relatively short time. We need to regain control of our way of life. Return to the simple path our people chose centuries ago.”

  Jon struggled to understand. He felt Triena’s emotions and knew she wasn’t lying, though she was under great stress. It cut him to the heart but there was just one thing he could do. He sighed and lifted his chin. “Well, you made my choice easy after all.” He brought his gaze down to meet hers. “The Questor has a long journey ahead and the sooner we start the better.”

  Jon got to his feet and left the hut, ignoring Triena as she called his name. He was relieved when she didn’t follow him. There was nothing they could say to each other without causing further pain.

  Jon sought out Captain Sullivan and from what he heard as he approached, the captain had already come to his decision.

  “I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Sernov was saying.

  “It seems sad recompense for our assistance,” Sullivan said in an inflexible voice.

  “It does,” Sernov agreed, bowing his head in respect.

  Sullivan turned his back on the Rhiava and said in a loud voice, “The crew of Questor will return to the ship at once.” He’d caught sight of Jon’s approach and moved to meet him. “Have you made a choice?” he asked brusquely.

  “I’m coming home with you, sir.”

  “I think you made the right choice, Jon,” the captain said.

  “The choice wasn’t mine, Captain,” Jon confessed, glancing at the retreating Sernov. “It seems the Elders have no wish for any aliens to remain on their world.”

  Sullivan regarded him with sympathy, looking as if perhaps he wanted to ask Jon some further questions. He must have thought better of it because he just ordered, “Go prime the shuttle, we’ll be there soon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ll feel better when you’re back onboard ship, Jon. This place has messed with all our minds I think.”

  Jon inclined his head but didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel normal again. As he walked away, he was aware of Triena’s touch as she brushed his mind. “Good-bye, Jon. Please think of me kindly on occasion,” she said.

  The touch faded and Jon just felt so alone.

  EIGHTEEN

  It was a little over ten days since the Questor had left Rhiava space. The crew’s supply needs were met in full before they left, but the crew’s mood was muted and hadn't recovered since. Manny’s death hit the whole crew hard. He had been most popular.

  It didn’t take long either for the truth of Jon’s situation to travel around the ship and either people wanted to sympathize with him or they chose t
o avoid him. Jon didn’t want sympathy, he preferred the avoidance technique and when not on duty he tended to keep his own company. The one person with whom he might have shared his feelings had died on Rhiava, and Jon still felt a measure of guilt for that.

  Jon found he preferred to be on duty, that way his mind was occupied and he didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself, or angry at Triena for giving up on him. At those times he was inclined to forget he’d ever considered leaving Triena and returning to Questor.

  Jon entered the command center to begin his duty roster and heard Philip Piper talking to with Sara Henricks in engineering. The captain was asking for more power, and Henricks wanted to know the whys and wherefores. Henricks was more determined than ever to protect her engines.

  “What’s going on?” Jon asked Lieutenant Chang who’d taken up Manny’s duties at the science console.

  Eyes bright, she leaned closer and said, “I found some strange readings. I almost didn’t tell the commander, it was hard to believe it, but well, you know.” She shrugged. “Anyhow, he checked my scans twice to confirm my findings, and then he reported to the captain and now we’re trying to get closer so we can see if it’s usable. It’s so exciting!”

  “Chang, whatever are you talking about? If what’s usable?”

  “Sorry. It’s just so exciting. If there’s any chance—” Jon’s growl stopped her rambling and Chang took a breath and rushed on, “I think I found an Einstein-Rosen Bridge, and my initial supposition suggests it might take us a lot nearer home.”

  “A wormhole! You’ve found a wormhole.” Jon’s first thought was that Manny would have been ecstatic to find such a thing. The theory had been around for centuries but as yet no one had ever discovered one. It saddened him to think Manny had missed his chance. He half hoped Chang was wrong and then chastised himself for the thought.

  Commander Barlow heard Jon’s exclamation. “It seems so, Hardesty, but it’s too soon to say if it’s going to be of any help to us. We’ve got a lot more investigation to do yet.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jon followed Chang’s heading and took Questor closer to the suspected wormhole. He found the sight eerily reminiscent of the phenomenon that had dragged them to this region in the first place. However, when he voiced this opinion he was soon told the comparison was just superficial. That didn’t make him feel any more confident.

  Hours of readings were taken, checked, and double-checked, and in the end the conclusion was reached that it was a wormhole and there was a possibility it might take years off their journey. It was also expected travel through it could be hazardous. When Jon heard that he almost laughed, but bit it off. It wouldn’t have been appreciated in the present atmosphere of studious consideration.

  Sullivan and Barlow sequestered themselves in the captain’s ready room and the crew waited for orders. The tension was thick, and Jon was well aware that while everyone was nervous about going into the wormhole, the possibility of leaving it much nearer to home outweighed the uncertainty. Jon hadn’t thought it mattered to him any longer, he’d felt as if he’d left his personal home behind on Rhiava, but all of a sudden seeing Earth and walking on her soil became important to him.

  The captain entered the command center and Commander Barlow walked straight to his station. Captain Sullivan glanced around at the control crew, locking eyes with each member for a moment as they stared back at him, waiting.

  “Mr. Piper, ship-wide please.” When Piper nodded confirmation, Captain Sullivan announced, “Commander Barlow informs me the ship is ready, just awaiting orders. We’re going in.”

  Piper cut off the transmission as the captain took his seat.

  “Mr. Hardesty,” Sullivan said, “take us in. Slow and steady.”

  Jon took a deep breath and edged the vessel toward the wormhole. It was similar to the earlier phenomenon in that its maw consisted of swirling colors pulsing with flashes of bright light, but the wormhole appeared stationery whereas the earlier ‘storm’ had charged toward them at high speed. He remembered the diagrammatic illustrations of an Einstein-Rosen Bridge, looking like nothing more than two cones with their narrow ends joined in the center to form a thin passageway, their wide mouths providing entrance and exit. While it seemed the entrance was not as violent as it first appeared, Jon couldn’t help but wonder what the narrow central section would be like.

  He found out well before they reached the center. He had to fight to keep the Questor under control. The ship was buffeted from every direction and slammed over and over by bursts of energy surging from within the wormhole.

  There was pandemonium in the command center with shouts from officers at every control console as first one system blew out in a shower of sparks, then another with the accompanying hiss of the fire suppressant system.

  Lieutenant Piper was receiving and passing on situation and damage reports from all over the ship. Commander Barlow was at his elbow, fighting to stay upright by holding onto Piper’s console with one hand and his chair with the other while he passed along instructions and advice.

  Overriding everything was Captain Sullivan’s voice shouting for updates and trying to maintain control.

  When the Questor reached the narrow central section the situation became even more desperate and Jon was fighting a losing battle for control of the ship’s direction as it careered from one side to the other in repeated collisions. Jon fought hysterical laughter, imagining he could hear the sounds of clanging and screeching as the ship slammed against the wormhole. He thought he was losing what little sanity he had left.

  A loud crack sounded when sparks shot out at Jon forcing him to duck, accompanied by a puff of smoke as his console blew from the surging energy.

  “Sir!” Jon yelled at the captain over the din, “I’ve lost complete control. There’s nothing I can do.”

  “Hang on, Jon,” Sullivan called back. “It seems it’s all any of us can do.”

  Jon just hoped the risk had been worth it, and when they at last emerged they would be closer to Earth. He refused to entertain the idea they might be destroyed; he’d not gone through the last few weeks just to die out here now.

  It was almost a shock to emerge from the brightness of the wormhole into the black velvet of space, the stars steady and majestic in comparison to the haphazard craziness they’d just escaped.

  The Questor still had power but the majority of the control systems were damaged and the vessel drifted.

  Jon breathed a sigh of relief they’d at least survived. Now to find out where they were, but there was nothing he could do until the systems came back on line.

  Commander Barlow was already issuing orders to get repairs underway and Captain Sullivan interrupted him to say, “Peter, I want helm back up and fast.”

  Jon glanced at the captain and Sullivan’s tight expression told him their location was a priority to the captain as well.

  Barlow nodded. “Simpson, you heard the captain. See what you can do to get Hardesty back to work.”

  Robert Simpson made his way across to Jon, ducking the hanging cables and a couple of pieces of deck plate which had worked loose and now leaned against each other at a crazy angle. Jon already checked out his console to see if anything at all still worked. “Sorry, Robert, the whole thing appears to be dead.”

  Robert raised an eyebrow. “Except you’re not that good an engineer, if I remember right.”

  Jon shrugged, unable to deny it. “Show me how good you are and get it working. I think we’d all like to know where we are.”

  “Yes, sir,” Robert agreed with grin.

  As Robert worked on Jon’s console, removing damaged components and fitting in replacements that were sent from engineering, Jon checked out the rest of the command center. He was aware of what had been going on around him as he struggled to ease the ship through the wormhole, but to see the actual damage was a shock. He spoke to Robert, “Do you know how the rest of the ship has fared?”

  Robert glanced at him a
nd shrugged a shoulder. “Not good. I was talking to Sara when the captain ordered me to fix this. She said there’s so much damage she doesn’t know if it can all be fixed even if she had enough supplies.”

  “Enough supplies?”

  “Yeah, all the stuff we picked up on Rhiava mightn’t be enough to cope with the damage.”

  “So then, where does that leave us?”

  “Hopefully, not too far from help.”

  Jon let Robert continue with his work then, wondering if it’d been a mistake to risk the wormhole. If the ship was damaged beyond repair even with the supplies they were carrying, they might as well have stayed hundreds of light years from home; though Jon knew Sara tended to shout before she was bit as the old saying went, so it was best to wait until she’d completed her investigations.

  The meeting of senior officers called by the captain a short time later revealed the full extent of their situation. Sara Henricks barely gave the others a chance to take their seats before she launched into her report. She hadn’t been exaggerating the problem. The ship had indeed sustained severe damage, and it needed to land for many of the repairs to even be attempted, and she admitted there were some systems she wasn’t even sure could be fixed.

  Sara stared at Jon and peremptorily asked, “Have you pinpointed our location yet? How much nearer to home are we?”

  Jon glanced at the captain. It was up to Sullivan to answer that question. Jon had located their position and reported it just before the meeting commenced.

  Captain Sullivan squared his shoulders. “Mr. Hardesty has just given me his findings, and I’m sorry to have to report we are no nearer home than we were before we entered what we believed to be a wormhole—”

  “Believed to be?” interrupted Chang, her face pale. “I don’t understand,” she added, looking at Commander Barlow for clarification.