The Captain

by Jordan T. Higa

  “I’d better go with her,” said Akatski heavily and followed after her.

  Den exchanged looks with Tan, and they got to their feet as well. Stella was already halfway down the driveway and they had to hurry to catch up. She walked several blocks towards the center of the city before stopping at a seedy bar. The name Daphne was painted on the door in bold red letters. It reminded Den uncomfortably of Crow’s Corner though it was even more dilapidated.

  An hour later he was staring at the hamburger a brutish waitress had served him. The bun looked mashed and the fries were only half thawed. He picked at it, but it didn’t get any more appetizing.

  “You gonna eat that or you just gonna stare at it?” slurred Stella bumping into his right elbow.

  He shrugged.

  She snatched it from his plate and shoved the burger into her mouth. “Thanks,” she grunted spilling beer on his lap. Den happily tore his eyes away from her as the bar door opened. A man stepped in wearing a long, black coat.

  Den stared at the coat. Why was the man wearing it? It was far too hot on Rocquamport for anyone to need a coat, then his eyes were drawn to the smoke wreathing the man’s head. A thick cigar jutted out of his lips. The ugly bartender gave the man one look. “We’re a non-smoking establishment, sir,” she said.

  “Then keep kriffing not smoking while I finish my cigar,” said the man. “I want a beer, not a lecture.” He pushed his way in, grabbing a seat between Den and Stella.

  Stella stared at the man, half eaten burger still in her hand. “You heard the bartender,” she said. “No smoking.” The words slurred.

  The man gave her a disdainful glance and reached into his coat, “Shut up bitch,” he growled, “Why don’t you mind your own business.”

  Stella’s gun appeared in her hand so fast, Den didn’t even have time to breathe before he felt the man’s brain matter splatter over him in an explosion of blood and bone. Silence followed the gunshot and the man’s corpse slowly sagged backward falling to the floor followed by what remained of his head. Den stared in shocked horror and felt his stomach wretch uncontrollably. The thick stench of vomit filled the air.

  Stella squatted over the corpse, picking the cigar out of the dead man’s fingers. “No one calls me a bitch,” she sneered. She took a puff of the cigar and then tapped the ashes out over the man’s chest, before turning back to her seat, puffing on the cigar again.

  “What…” croaked Den. “Why did you do that?”

  Stella turned on him, anger smoldering in her dull eyes, “You don’t get to question me, I’m your kriffing captain, and that’s all that matters newbie.”

  “But you k-killed him! It was just a cigar,” he stuttered and suddenly to his horror he saw blood running down his fingertips. The blood ran down his sleeve, and he retched again. When he was done, he backed away from Stella.

  She stared at him and took a bite of burger, before spitting it out and shoving the cigar back in her mouth. “You got something to say, newbie?”

  He backed towards the door, this was wrong, he thought. Tan and Akatski stared at him, their expressions hard. He’d thought he could fit in here, but this was wrong, just plain wrong. This was murder.

  Stella stared at him contemptuously, “If you’re going to leave, then leave Den. But don’t look at me like some wounded puppy.”

  He stared at her, unable to make his tongue work. He opened his mouth but no words came out, and so he ran.

  “And don’t kriffing come back,” he heard Stella shout. “You’re dead you hear me? Dead! If I ever see you again I’ll kriffing kill you myself!” Her words ended with a shriek as the door closed.

  Den ran into the darkness, tripped, fell, and then kept running. What had he been thinking trying to fit in with them? He was never going to fit in. How could she? Why had she killed him? She was nothing more than an animal. The thought repeated itself over and over again in his mind.

  He felt tears coming to his eyes. Why had he even bothered trying? It was pointless. The only reason he was here was to get his life back on Earth. Only now that life was beginning to feel like a hazy memory. It had been so soft. Dry sobs racked his shoulders, but he couldn’t go back, he thought and now he doubted he ever would.

  He wiped his eyes. Maybe going back would be better than this. What was a half-life on the edge of the universe compared to a life where the people were human, even if the Guard was hunting him. Why had he even decided to come here? He wiped his hand on the back of his pants. He would find a way to survive. But it was not going to be here.

  Den started walking. It took him awhile to get back, but the mansion was still dark by the time he walked in. No one was home, but that was just fine with the plan forming in his mind. After packing his bag with all that remained of his belongings, he stared at his gun for a long moment before finally leaving it sitting on the bed stand. He walked downstairs and tested the back door method he’d programmed into the control system of Stella’s car. Saying a silent prayer of thanks when the identification system let him in.

  The drive to the spaceport was easy. Bartering with the fat lady at the rental counter was even easier. The woman squinted greedily at Stella’s car after he said all he cared about was a ticket to anywhere. She brought over the dockmaster and he scratched at his stomach and wheezed while he stared at the readout from his implants.

  “The next flight’s not till four o’clock in the morning,” he said finally. “Eight hours away.”

  Den looked at the time. Eight hours would be soon enough, it would have to be. He licked his lips. “Just give me the ticket and take the car.”

  “Of course,” said the woman lumbering towards Stella’s car without hesitation.

  Den took his ticket from the dockmaster and found a corner to sit down and wait. They’d said he was going to be stopping at Throva, one of the Helan Worlds. He wondered if he was going to like it there. Surely it would be better than Rocquamport, he thought. Anything was better than this. He flicked a dusty pebble across the floor and watched it skitter. He was the only passenger in the terminal this late. Sleep took him while he waited, and by the time his alarm woke him, he felt rested though his neck was sore from sleeping sitting up. Stretching with a yawn he looked over to where the other passengers were starting to arrive. The dockmaster was standing behind his counter again, checking them in slowly.

  Den decided to go for a walk, looping his bag over his shoulders and heading down the terminal strip. The transport that was going to take him away from this deserted planet was sitting on the terminal deck with the gangway down; though he hadn’t seen any passengers get off.

  His shoulders shook mirthlessly. He should have listened to the other Captain. No one wanted to get off here. The only ships that came were the ones to take people away. He started counting the ships. When he got to the end of the line he stared at the last ship, feeling sick. It was the Albatross Rebecca. He fought down the urge to look over his shoulder though the idea that Stella, Tan, and Akatski might be watching him, lingered in his thoughts. It was time for him to be elsewhere.

  He glanced back at it one more time though, unable to help himself. The hull was a dull white and overall looked uninteresting. Nothing about it was exotic or sleek like one of the high-end drug companies would be able to afford. He wondered what kind of drugs it was actually carrying. Hopefully nothing, he thought angrily and was about to turn away when he saw a man step out onto the gangway.

  The man turned towards the passengers entering the terminal and stood his arms held firmly behind his back for a long moment. Then the man turned and walked back inside with the telltale jerkiness of a quant. Surprise filtered through Den’s thoughts. What was a quant doing on Rocquamport?

  Then a deeper realization hit him. They were going to walk into a trap. No fake ID or boarding pass would ever fool a quant, no matter how good it was.

  He turned and began walking back towards the terminal. It was no longer his problem. He needed to check in. Yet thought
s of Stella, Tan, and Akatski filled his mind. They were going to be caught. Fine, he thought to himself angrily, he would send them a message, he could do that much. Typing out a message using his implants, he fired it off to Stella and was instantly rejected. Burn you, Stella, he thought in frustration, sending the message again.

  Couldn’t she at least read it? He was trying to help her. He tried Tan and Akatski, but the result was the same. They had cut him out. He felt his fingers twitch in his pockets. They were going to be caught. He glanced at the ticket booth. Half of the passengers had already boarded. Anger steeled his resolve. What did it matter to him? None of them cared about him. Tan and Akatski had watched Stella blow an innocent man’s head to pieces and said nothing. He stepped forward getting ready to synch his implants with the terminal computer to transfer his ticket when he stopped himself.

  It didn’t matter if they were animals, he wasn’t. He would never be able to live with himself if he just left them. Running a hand through his hair, he stared at the motley array of pipes and wires running across the ceiling.

  “Sir, please step forward, and present your ticket,” said the dockmaster sounding impatient.

  Den turned his eyes downward, “No, I don’t think I’ll be doing that actually,” he said, stepping out of line.

  The man paused one hand on his scruffy beard, staring at him in confusion, but Den didn’t give himself time to think. Turning on his heel he ran towards the terminal doors, cursing himself for selling Stella’s car. There had to be enough time, he had to stop them. His bag swung crazily from his shoulders as he ran, but by the time he got back, the mansion was already empty. They were gone. Fear filled him, there was only one thing all three of them could be doing at this hour.

  7

  The Quant

  By the time he got back to the spaceport, Den’s side was cramping, and he leaned over gasping out a few breaths before forcing himself to straighten and walk in. The dockmaster and rental car lady stared at him with dingy uncomprehending eyes, but he ignored them.

  Where were they?

  The question raced through his thoughts and he broke into a run, moving towards the Albatross Rebecca. He was just rounding the corner when he heard alarms begin to blare and felt his stomach sink. It was too late.

  The Albatross Rebecca was lit up like a Christmas Tree as siren’s and flashing alarms signaled danger. Den looked around but saw no one immediately rushing towards the ship. Then the gangways all began to slide upwards, and he felt his throat tighten as they hissed close, cutting off the ship from the rest of the dock. They were locked inside.

  He was too late. Confusion and disappointment filled him. They were already caught. There was nothing more he could do for them now. He turned, preparing himself to walk away, but indecision tugged at him, and he hesitated. Why was he even standing here? Stella cared nothing about him. Why should he bother to help them? He owed them nothing.

  Yet, even so, he couldn’t help but remember the look of utter disdain on Stella’s face. Anger filled him, the kriffing bitch was a maniac, but he was going to prove her wrong. He was going to prove them all wrong. He wasn’t just another weakling for them to crush under their boots. He was one of the few people in the UPC who could help them now, and he was going to do it. Just to wipe the look of petty pride off Stella’s face for once.

  Setting his bag on the ground, Den opened it, not allowing himself to think about what he was going to do. This had better work, he thought, pulling out the black, leathery gloves inside. He glanced around the terminal and found an open utility closet. He stepped inside and after one more glance closed the door and pulled the gloves on. His skin tingled and a chill raced down his spine as the quantum material spread over his entire body, creating the hieroglyphic connection that allowed the quantum computer now covering him to read his thoughts. Giving himself one more shake, he closed his eyes and joined the Albatross Rebecca’s network.

  A small sigh escaped his lips as he felt the smoothness of the connection. The power of the network, pulsed beneath his mental fingertips, and he knew his connection was much stronger than normal. Much stronger than any connection he’d ever felt. He luxuriated in the massive array of computing power for a second and then dove inside the ship.

  Utilizing the few femtoseconds he had before the quant found him, he canceled the help request the Albatross Rebecca had automatically sent to port security and peered through the ship’s cameras until he located Stella, Tan, and Akatski in one of the holds. Tan and Akatski were sitting down, but Stella was banging on the wall. A burst of static filled his ears, and then he felt the Quant moving in, shutting off his network access. At least he knew they were still alive.

  “Who are you?” said a voice in his head. “Where are your credentials?”

  When Den didn’t answer, he felt the invisible presence of the Quant press against his own. The Quant’s data structure was simply amazing. Suddenly, a wave of code raced towards his mental architecture. Den felt the wall of code strike his defenses and he shuddered at the raw strength of it as he fought it off. The multifaceted coding was unlike anything he’d ever encountered before, and it forced him to draw deeply on the power of the quantum computer now embracing his body. He felt his body temperature rise a few degrees as its coils began to heat.

  After a long femtosecond faded away he felt the quantiverse render and looked through the eyes of his avatar. The area around him was stark white. It was built of flat white planes that stood with eye jarring synchronicity.

  This was much different from the half network in the city. This was full immersion, the highest level of quantum networking. The Quant’s avatar stood a meager ten feet away. The avatar presented an elderly man whose face was regal and firm. He wore stark white robes traced in gold as if he styled himself a king. Den knew his own avatar looked just like himself. He’d never felt it was necessary to invest the time or money to change it.

  “It is very brave for a hacker to enter here,” said the Quant in a sonorous voice. “You have talent.”

  “You have something of mine,” answered Den pacing sideways.

  The Quant matched him, “So you are one of the idiots who tried to steal my master’s cargo.”

  “I want my crew back.”

  “They reached for something they lacked the power to attain. Their lives belong to my Master now. Leave now and perhaps I will let you return with your sanity.”

  Den pushed away the fear weakening his resolve, “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” He felt stronger as the words left his lips. Either the experiment he’d spent the past five years of his life developing would work or he would die. There were no other options.

  The Quant laughed, “You are outmatched hacker. Not even the strongest mind could defeat the weakest quant. Go home, your crew is lost.”

  “We shall have to see about that,” answered Den steeling himself for the onslaught. It was nearly time. He felt his virtual fingers trembling in the quantiverse and tried to swallow. Though it was technically VR the pain he was about to experience was going to be very real. Quantum warfare stretched the human mental capacity to its limits and often those who lost were the ones whose mind’s broke.

  “I’ve never met a hacker who bonded so closely to the quantiverse,” said the Quant. “Forget your crew. “Come with me and I will show you it’s true power.”

  Den licked his lips. In his youth, he’d dreamed of being a quant, but as he watched the Quant’s avatar he felt doubt creep in. This was just another kind of attack. He scanned through his network, found the code he was looking for, and erased it.

  The Quant’s jaw tightened. “Let’s get this farce over with then, hacker,” he snarled.

  For a femtosecond, their eyes locked. Then a wall of black tentacles sprang out from the Quant. Den knew that if he looked at each one of them hard enough he could see the coding that powered it, but even in the quantiverse, the human mind reacted faster to visual stimuli than numbers and letters. So he did
not, instead, allowing his subconscious mind to process the data, while he reacted to the visual rendering.

  He felt heat build in his head as his brain worked to parse the terabytes of malicious code the Quant was throwing at him. Just before the wall of tentacles hit him, he coded a shield and felt the tentacles split around him. He turned as they passed and his throat constricted as they rose over him like a titanic tidal wave. He raised his shield and stumbled back as the tentacles hissed sprouting snake like heads, before bearing down on him again.

  Abandoning his shield, Den leaped forwards pushing his processors even harder. A sword filled his hands and he screamed as his code sliced through the snakes. They broke apart into showers of letters and numbers as he separated the logic holding them together. He planted his foot, pivoted, and suddenly jerked to a stop, his sword stuck fast in midair. He jerked on the handle but tripped as the Quant’s coding snared him and one of the snakes wrapped itself around his sword.

  Desperately, Den rebuilt the coding holding his sword together. Trying to break the snake’s grasp but cringed instead as a snake wrapped itself around his ankle. It sank its teeth into his calf and he screamed as his vision turned red. He fell to his knees, and his sword dissipated as the Quant decoded it. Instantly, the wall of snakes disappeared, and the Quant stood before him.

  “You surprise me again hacker,” said the Quant staring down at him calculatingly. “You should have taken me up on my offer.”

  “Burn you,” spat Den struggling to decode the snake. He felt its fangs disappear then screamed again when they regrew, biting even deeper into his calf. If he didn’t get rid of that coding soon the quant was going to gain control over his internal systems.

  As he struggled against the malevolent code, he met the Quant’s cold eyes and the rate of exchange between them raced into the petabytes per femtosecond as Den struggled to break the quant’s hold over his digital architecture. A smile spread across the Quant’s lips, “You are outmatched hacker. Come with me and I will spare your sanity.”