by Dan Henk
There’s no sound, but with a lurch of motion, I feel the compartment shift. If my eyesight weren’t so sharp, I would be in total darkness. The floor is completely smooth, its black face marbled by a swirling white pattern. There are no visible chairs, and I debate sitting on the floor for a moment. But there is no need.
I wonder what trade they could possibly want from me? A sparse jolt is followed by an opening of the serrated portal. A creature that looks exactly like the one that escorted me here beckons me to follow.
I’m led down yet another dim, corrugated hallway. The creature leads me around several bends, and then stops abruptly. A section of the wall slides up. The Al’lak ushers me out into a narrow corridor. This isn’t textured like what I’ve seen so far, but is made up of a smooth black material covered with spindly white marbling.
I’m paraded through a series of gloomy tunnels followed by well lit rooms. Their walls are made of perfect spheres, milky and translucent, a raised pathway flowing from the hallway and continuing in a smooth arc across a seething abyss of bluish fog.
The corridor widens, and I proceed through a series of larger rooms, all dim and well grounded, the walls a return to the dark brown of the hallway. The floor becomes rippled in a pattern that resembles bones, slowing my progress. The queue of rooms starts to feature a serpentine series of small pedestals, the surfaces stamped with the same small holes as the ship. Austere chairs hover beside them, the seats supporting the forms of Al’laks, their vision trained on the small instruments, their bodies bent in rapt attention. They don’t even register my passing.
Finally, I’m led into a dim chamber garnished with two of the floating chairs. My escort motions for me to sit, then promptly turns and exits the room. A few minutes pass when a new creature enters and takes a seat. Truth be told, all the creatures look the same to my eyes. It could just be one being playing mind games with me.
“We have no need to play mind games with you. We want you to help us explore the wormhole. You’ll be tutored in what you need to know, perform the service we require, and then you can return to your primitive planet.”
Ouch, that’s the first hostile move they’ve made. Then again, Earth probably is a fairly primitive planet in their eyes. So far this whole experience has been like one long, fantastic dream. It ranges from euphoria to nightmare, but like a car crash, I can’t turn away. I almost feel like I’ll wake up any minute, rolling over in bed and cursing at my alarm. It seems nearly too surreal to actually be happening, but if it’s a dream, waking up is going to be devastating.
Part of me wants to return to the relative stability of Earth, but I’m so intrigued, I have misgivings about going back to what I realize is a rural dead end. Earth is always there for me. This opportunity might never present itself again. At least not for eons. And who knows what my state will be come that day.
“I’m in.”
After a few hours of confinement, in a grander version of the same cell I’ve been occupying recently, I’m conveyed to a strange, small room. It’s too dim to make out much, but I’m beckoned to sit in a dark recess. As I approach, I notice an object in the corner laid out like some glistening, esoteric lounge chair. Just as I lower myself into place, everything dissolves into a pitch-black void. My consciousness shifts, and I can feel myself transported to another time and place. I’m seated in a craft, with a dreamlike feeling akin to being in some overgrown, hyper-realistic flight simulator. A monotone voice cuts into my head, instructing me on the functions of the vehicle I’ll apparently be using.
After a short tutorial, my view alters dramatically, and I’m lectured on a bit of astronomy, the surrounding planets and star systems coasting in and out of my view in a three-dimensional panorama that swirls around in a bewildering display. Either they have photographic memories or they realize I do. The sheer volume of data would be overwhelming if a normal human had to recall all of it.
What seems like at least a good twenty-four hours passes, and abruptly the lights snap on, jarring me out of my reverie. I’m in a tiny, completely black room. The walls have closed in to practically cocoon me in my chair, allowing me only enough room above to sit up. Every surface is textured in a fleece-like motif resembling felt. The wall to my left vanishes, and the silhouette of an Al’lak, framed in the gloomy hallway light, motions for me to rise and follow. Crawling out, I traipse down the corridor behind him.
I enter into a small, spherical room, the walls of the same milky, translucent quality I’ve already seen. Two chairs float in midair. They occupy the center of a thin walkway, the track suspended over a seething whitish haze as it crosses the room. The opposite door opens and an Al’lak enters, strolling up to the chair and taking a seat. He sits and stares at me in silence for a moment, as if scrutinizing me warily. Suddenly, a voice resonates in my head.
“Let us [indecipherable] the business of the trade.”
“The trade for returning me to Earth, unharmed?”
“If that is what you want.”
“What does the future hold for me?”
“What does that mean?”
“How long will this body last?”
“We don’t know. Maybe quite a long time. The materials it is constructed out of won’t decay, but your consciousness might. No one has ever stayed sane in one long enough for us to tell.”
“What do you want with the Earth?”
“None of that is relevant. The deal is this: you take a ship through the wormhole.”
“What will that accomplish?”
“We don’t know. We haven’t sent a [indecipherable] ship through there.”
“Yet you want to send me.”
“You are in the unique position of having a far more [indecipherable] body than a [indecipherable]. We want you to explore, take some readings, nothing more.”
“That vortex in space could swallow me whole.”
“There is an element of risk, but you don’t seem to [indecipherable] your position. I’m being advised to destroy you. I’ve [indecipherable] that you are useful, and [indecipherable] this wormhole as a specific example. If you were to cooperate, your existence would be taken differently.”
I don’t know if it’s just my impression or if they are being intentionally vague. More than before, I can’t even make out what they are telling me. But I really don’t have much choice.
“Alright, let’s get it over with.”
“What?”
“Old human expression—it means yes.”
He makes no audible noise that I can perceive, but I could swear he just sneered at me.
CHAPTER XXI
DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
I didn’t specialize in physics, so I’m not exactly up on all the theories concerning wormholes. I seem to remember something about them being presumed tunnels and that they might be more traversable than a black hole. A conduit through space and possibly time. They want me to man a craft through the wormhole and return with whatever information I manage to discover. The onboard instruments will take most of the readings; I’m mainly along for the ride. They presume I can’t contact them through the wormhole, but they’ve been extremely taciturn regarding the details. This ship most likely doesn’t have any form of interstellar travel, at least nothing I am aware of. Not that I would even know where I was heading, but that might be a detail they held back from me. Or the lack of it is a failsafe to prevent my escape. Come to think of it, I don’t even know how their faster-than-light system works, much less how to direct it. To the best of our primitive science, the only thing that would work is to create a wormhole, which would make the territory they are sending me into something they should be familiar with. Which brings up another question. Is it really a wormhole? It might be something they can’t quite understand, and I’m the guinea pig they are throwing into a cosmic laboratory. They’ve made it pretty clear I’m expendable.
I’m roused from my cell and escorted to a transport ship. Sequestered in yet another gloomy room that I’ve c
ome to believe is a brig, I prepare to abandon the water world. The lights dim, and I’m left in absolute darkness. Time passes, when suddenly, a wall opens up, and I’m led from my cell. I follow down a short corridor, garnished by those organic walls and the same ribbed flooring that resembles bone. I pass a few small oval windows, off center breaks in the primal sheath of smooth brown. The vastness of space radiates out beyond. A sparkled vista of black, the rounded edge of a navy blue planet far below. A few more windows, and I catch a glimpse of my ship.
It resembles an armadillo in that it’s heavily armored in encircling segments. The whole vessel is roughly oval in build. There are no evident wings or any other openings, with the exception of an exhaust port in the tail. No windows are visible.
Reaching what must be the entrance portal, a hatch spirals open and my escort gestures for me to enter. It’s dark and cramped, one arced chair nestled among a profusion of dangling implements. Small screens embedded in a charcoal ball hang from corrugated tubes. Cables hang haphazardly in elongated, intersecting loops, swarming around the outskirts of the chair. Pedestals, their bony walls resembling sinuous tree stumps, shoulder both sides, their flat surfaces harboring the familiar array of grooves and depressions. I crawl into the vehicle, stepping carefully through the throng of hanging apparatus. Before I’m even seated, the hatch snaps closed behind me. I lower myself into the pilot’s seat and wait.
It’s absolutely silent, the only illumination a pale light from the observation screen directly in front. An immense field of stars stretches out before me, spanning the horizon. This thing feels more like a sarcophagus than a research ship. I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m being used, and will be cast off like chaff when all this is over.
Gradually, the edges of the stars in the screen start to blur, quickly progressing into streaks as they whip by. A whirling tendril of blue light creeps in. The screen starts to rotate to the right, and an asteroid rakes by, its slowly revolving mass of rock blocking out half the screen as it passes. That was close! A spiraling vortex stretches out before me, its snake-like appendages slowing revolving around a brilliant shaft of pure white. Huge nebulae, drenched in crimson reds and pale oranges, bedeck the sky, cloistering around the singularity in writhing clusters of vapor. A large, gassy giant hovers just beyond, its rippled orange bands reminding me of Jupiter. But Earth is a long way off. The wormhole has now taken center stage, and the ship is heading for the eye of the storm.
A couple of small ships fly out in front of me, cutting through space in a curving arc as they head toward the edge of the wormhole. Suddenly, the whole vessel shakes. One of the craft on my screen disappears in a flash of brilliance. A tremor resonates through the ship, and my screen fills with blossoming flecks of light. What?
Explosions fill my field of vision, closing in with a blitzkrieg of seething plasma. Al’lak ships dissolve under the onslaught, winking out in fiery balls. I hear a grating clank, and my room starts to shift sideways. The mother ship must have cut me loose! Delving my fingers into the controls, I kick on the thrusters and surge forward. Scrolling my view to the aft, I see a flailing mother ship that looks almost exactly like the one that picked me up. Its blackened shell is riddled with a swarm of tiny explosions, a legion of assailing fighters swarming around it. All of the smaller Al’lak ships have disappeared, and the attacking craft are a dead ringer for my previous captors. Fucking A!
I head toward the wormhole. A couple of fighters break away from their assault and start bearing in my direction. I try to pick up speed, but this ship seems to have more armor than power! All of a sudden, I start to accelerate quickly. The wormhole must be pulling me in! The tail of my ship vibrates roughly, the rear screen bleached out in a deluge of light. I’m being shot at, but luck is on my side! I remember the heavy armor on this craft. It’s meant to survive the stress of an unknown singularity. I doubt the attackers command a force stronger than that.
I get hit again, but it’s a momentary distraction, as I experience an incredible sucking pressure. The ship nosedives in, heading straight for the center. Revolving luminous arms whip around me in a pirouetting flurry. The maelstrom spins faster and faster, whirling into a frenzied blur that bubbles and distorts around me. A blinding radiance bleaches out the screen, drenching me in such an intense white my eyes can’t keep up. There is an absolute absence of noise, a feeling of being suspended in a void.
Then, a blink, and I’m in space again. A glittering panorama of stars spreads out on all sides. A chill creeps down my spine. I feel like something is off. Then everything goes black.
A few moments pass, and I drift up from my chair, all artificial gravity evidently gone. I stab desperately at depressions on the control boards. Nothing. The pressure lessens, and I grope blindly as I float upwards. I feel a small cluster of something and push. A short glide, and I collide with a concave barrier, a wall probably. The glancing collision throws me forwards. I flounder wildly as I try to gain equilibrium. My back smashes into some hidden obstacle, and I throw my hands down, grabbing onto some invisible cable. I steady myself and swim forward again.
Feeling along the wall, gently paddling my feet so I stay flush, my fingertips brush over the rough seam and into the curved span of what I think is a hatch outside. With no light and no knowledge of how to do anything with this ship, I don’t see any other choice. Kicking down, I wedge my feet into something that feels solid and push forward.
At first nothing happens. I press harder. With a low whine the metal starts to buckle. Harder still, and the gate suddenly gives, tearing away and almost tossing me out into open space. I clutch frantically at the jagged edges as the atmosphere of the cabin pours out in a violent cascade, the currents of air more palpable than visible. After a moment the gale subsides, everything balancing out into the silent nothingness of space. I peer out at the void.
The abyss has a strange, reddish tint, the vast expanse speckled with stars. I make out something floating off to my left. It looks like one of those attacking fighters, but it’s squashed like a bug. No light emits from the wreckage, the shell floating dead in space. Suddenly, the jagged chunk I’m hanging onto shakes, the whole ship swaying violently. Something must have collided with the far end! I glance around, but I can’t see anything. Then I notice that the wreckage of the mangled attack craft is floating toward me. I look around again and see nothing else but emptiness. Whatever hit my ship isn’t even visible. I try to think it through. It’s an impossible situation. I’m stranded in a boundless realm of nothingness, not even a planet in sight. My familiars, if I can even call them that, were being wiped out just as I plunged into the wormhole. My ship is unnavigable and probably dead. Being stranded out here in this void would be nightmare enough. I can’t imagine what I’ll devolve into mentally if I have to spend years floating in space. Assuming I even live that long. It’s a pitiful chance, but getting into that enemy craft might offer something.
I glance back into the hull of my ship, searching for some sort of tether. The last thing I want is to do is end up floating in space, unable to reach either ship. It’s too dark, and I can’t make out anything. Looking back up, I see the wreckage has moved closer. I might not have to secure myself after all. If I can propel myself with enough force, I should be able to reach the other vessel. The surface is cracked and splintered, with what looks like a few fissures large enough to sink my fingers in. It draws closer, the mangled shell growing into a hulking mass as it closes in. The ship now floats slowly over me, mere feet away. It’s now or never. So swinging my feet back and crouching into a squat, I soar upward. Way too quickly the curved hull smacks into my face, shoving me back before I even get a chance to locate a crack. Oh, shit!
Frantically, I claw at the surface. My fingers slip, my momentum now working against me as I drift away. I tear at the shell with my hands, trying to grasp something, my arms fully extended in a futile effort to locate a handhold. A finger manages to curl into a torn gash, and I pull myself forward. D
rawing in closer, I punch a few more fingers into the shell, steady my grip, and begin wailing on the surface with my fist.
It’s bizarre. I’m pounding away like a madman, and yet in the void there is only deadly silence. The hull splinters, a gaping chunk plunging noiselessly in. The cracks must have depleted all the air, as the clod of hull bounces soundlessly across the floor below and drifts out of sight. I pull myself in. Sailing down to the floor, I rebound slightly, rising up a few inches and remaining suspended in midair. Only there is no air. And no noise.
Spiraling around, I find I’m in a narrow corridor. A dim glow emanates from the end of the hall. The ship must not be totally dead. I swim down the corridor toward the front of the ship. The passageway grows darker still as I float under the unbroken stretch of ceiling. I notice that the walls are a sickly olive green. It’s hard to tell in the gloom, but the surfaces look like they are mottled with the stringy tendrils of veins.
The corridor brightens slightly as it opens up into a large, semicircular space. This must be the front of the ship. Three raised stumps, the sides entangled in interweaving cables, spread out in a semicircle. The tops are a mass of bumps, sheltered under a transparent curved shield. Each pedestal is fronted by the featureless shell of a chair, the bottom woven into the floor in a tangled mass of tubes. Drifting closer, I notice each harbors a slumped life form, the body held in place by leathery straps. They all resemble my previous captors, outfitted in similar, if slightly stockier, deep space suits.