by Greg Remy
“Found him—the Opici System—looks like he’s orbiting around a Class-H planet with a single moon. Humph. Well there are no spaceports nearby. It should have been a pass-through system for him.” But, she thought, with a bootlegger, secret midnight meetings might not be that out of the ordinary. In any case, caution was necessary. “Once we get close, I can track the signature from his ion trail to get a precise location.”
Zoe sighed and got up from her seat. “Darious, the man we are traveling to meet has had an anomaly onboard his semi. The same anomaly I was just informed that Professor Kring had witnessed some twenty years ago. I have left the Origin-X artifact for him to do further analysis on. It is undoubtedly associated with all of this. I can’t put all the pieces together just yet, but I am formulating a hypothesis.” Zoe was speaking through that cold hard logic. “The Professor will contact us soon with his results. From there, and from our meeting with Captain Henry, I will begin to finalize my suppositions.” She paused a moment, captured by Darious’ pacific gaze as it pacified her own recent tensions. “Darious, it is our duty to see this through to its end. We must be heedful of where we are headed. Pantheon can’t be far. I doubt they have stopped looking for us. But I’m not too worried; our trail is kept minimal, thanks to the construction and form of this ship.” A grin of self-triumph formed on her lips, though her smugness was soon outshined by stronger emotions as she continued staring at Darious. It was like she was being pulled in. Those eyes; those mystical eyes. “Darious I.... thank you. It is I who is grateful for your companionship.”
He stared back at her without saying anything for several seconds. “I suppose then we are unequivocally lucky to have found each other.”
“In all the gin joints of all the worlds,” said Zoe with a smile.
Chapter 31
After All, We’re Only Ordinary Humans
“The ion trail ends at the far side of the moon,” said Darious as their ship neared the barren planet-satellite system.
“Moonshine by moonlight,” replied Zoe. “I do hope we are not too intrusive.”
She gracefully arced her quicksilver ship around the satellite and delighted at how the oncoming sunrise reflected a phosphorescent glow from the lunar sands below to her bow. As hills and basins were being revealed by leaping jetes of sunlight, sirens suddenly bound to life within the ship, sending forth loud wales.
“Oh crap! It’s the Coppers!” Zoe squirreled the brakes and stalled the ship in dead view of three large CF cruisers. “Crap. Crap.” Zoe began furiously typing away.
“Captain? What are you doing?”
“Gotta tuck away all those ill-tempered codings I keep around.” Her fingers were a haze over the keyboard. “Aaand good.” She looked out with Darious as he leaned over her shoulder. “What’s going on out there?”
Three Interplanetary-Class Copper Force ships, gigantic ‘U’ shaped vessels of stolid greys, were situated around a comet field. Zoe spotted a smaller fleet of micro-crafts interacting with the cloudy mass.
“Ah, do you see those little oblong guys moving throughout the comet?” ask Zoe.
“Yes.”
“Those are 3D geometric compilers. Basically, little robots. One is a neutrino generator and rotates all around an object. The other follows opposite its motions, acting as the receiver. Together they can create a three-dimensional map where EM rays cannot penetrate. I always liked the genius of these ’bots. Seriously, they can virtually reconstitute a whole object way down to near microscopic precision, even working out a blast’s source. You see, usually they are used for investigations of zero gravity explosions, not comet resear—” Zoe stopped, and her heart dropped like an exoplanet doomed to an infinity of falling into a black hole.
An intercom began ringing. As if pulled by some arcane force, Zoe got up and brushed past Darious. She picked up the wired communicator as he took a seat at the helm.
“Yes,” Zoe said and then listened. The man’s voice on the other end was strict and inquisitive. He rapidly fired questions in quick succession. Were they aware of their location? Was the pilot onboard licensed? Did they know this sector was currently off-limits due to an investigation? On and on the fusillade of questions shot through the handset. “Yes. Yes. No, but... I know but…” The man cut her off, continuing the verbal onslaught until his questions began to blend together into an indistinct globular cluster.
Upon the culmination of dominating vociferation, he firmly requested that they proceed to the central CF ship. Zoe’s mind began to anneal. She stared at Darious, her life force being restored. Zoe was once more dynamic and functioning. “Oh...” she said, her own indomitable will sharpening the steel of her tone and a fiery smile edging upon her face. “Oh, yes sir.”
The man sternly responded, “CF Investigation Unit A dash 9. The docking bay will be marked. Disengage all offensive and defensive systems.”
“Yes sir.” She hung up the phone. “Darious, prepare to dock with the A dash 9 Cruiser ahead.”
“Captain?”
With renewed vigor in her voice she said, “We are going to find out what happened here. And hell hath no fury like a woman.”
“Aye-aye Captain,” said Darious and he typed in the command.
Ten minutes later they were landing in the bay of the police ship. Zoe was pacing back and fourth behind Darious as he monitored the final steps of the arrival process. Her hands massaged one another as thoughts thickened and congealed in her mind.
“Darious, grab your hoodie and prepare to board with me. Say nothing and do nothing onboard the cruiser.”
“Will we be okay?”
“I imagine so, but we must tread carefully when in the forest of the wolf.”
She gave him a mild smile and held out her hand. The two moved off the ship together and slowly made their way down the ramp. The bay was a pale white with exposed structural beams and sonic rivets. Two armed guards were standing at attention, waiting for the pair at the base of the gangway. Zoe stopped short, giving Darious’ hand a firm press. She produced a reassuring look and stepped off the ramp onto the hunting grounds.
The door directly ahead susurrated open, prompting the two officers to switch rifle hands in unison with a concerted clatter. From the aperture and with a pace signifying interminable punctuality, an officer in blue police regalia with gold passants and a triple-barred gold emblem on his left shoulder advanced toward them. His boots pummeled the floor and in a moment, he was upon Zoe and Darious, stopping with such intensity that his body momentarily vibrated like a flagpole in the wind. The officer looked them both up and down.
Through a brown beard and gruff voice, he said, “I’m Sergeant Duvel. Follow me.” He turned on his heel, to which the two guards once more shifted weapon arms.
Past silent corridors, the marching Sergeant led the party. Zoe was doing her best to remain calm, but by each turn, deeper and deeper into the ship, pangs of nervousness intensified. She forced the feelings back down; she would hold out for Captain Henry’s sake. The CF ship was a dizzying maze of corridors to Zoe, with a minotaur awaiting them at its center.
“Here,” said the Sergeant, suddenly stopping before a door.
He eyed Zoe and Darious once more and then operated a control panel, to which the door slid sideways, revealing a large room in direct view of the debris field with the little robots zooming throughout it. The room was dimly illuminated by blue lighting behind every shadow. The empty walls did not reflect with pristine whites like the rest of the CF vessel but instead shone with dull hues, further emphasizing the great view of space from the enormous panoramic window. Above the glass were several screens displaying the ongoing physical analyses outside. Holding Darious’ hand, Zoe entered in.
“Sir, the two, Ms. Zoe and the clone, as requested.”
Zoe nearly jumped when she saw a male figure stir near the viewing window. He had blended in so well that she had not noticed him against the midnight backdrop. His back was turned to them and he said nothin
g, merely shifting his stance while continuing to stare out. Sergeant Duvel turned and departed, the door closing behind him.
Zoe and Darious stood motionless. A few minutes passed before the man shifted his weight again and then cleared his throat.
“Please, come here,” he said with military hardness, though Zoe could definitely note a slight tinge of compassion.
At this, she eased a bit; perhaps the wolf had already consumed his meal for the day. Her prior meetings with the CF had never really been… positive. Zoe led Darious to the viewing aperture, stopping abreast with the man, and all three stared out at the cloud of detritus. If that was indeed Captain Henry’s vessel, it was nothing more than ash now, millions upon millions of scattered pieces drifted amidst a dense nucleus. Bits of metal shrapnel glinted in the sun while the many pairs of robotic compilers scanned their every millimeter.
“I am Sheriff Edward LaBarre Vere, the commanding officer of this investigation unit. I have been leading vessel incident investigations for over 20 years now.” Sheriff Vere secured his stance. “Miss Zoe Halloconst,” he said slowly. “I need you to be very honest with me. Please understand, we at the CF hold all incidents with the highest of seriousness. We have an abundance of intelligence from which to draw on during our investigations. I have a hunch why you are here, but I need to hear it from you.”
Zoe solemnly nodded, still taking in the great debris field in front of her.
“Cid ‘Zephyr’ Henry,” the Sheriff said. Zoe twitched at this, now knowing without a doubt the inevitable truth that was looming. “He was not a colleague of yours, correct?”
“Correct sir,” said Zoe.
“He was a friend?”
“Yes,” said Zoe, her heart nearly giving out.
“I see. I am sorry to say that Mr. Henry is dead. Before us are the remnants of his vessel.” The truth of it all sank to its fullest effect within Zoe. The officer turned his head toward her. She could feel his eyes attempting to compel some declaration from her, but she didn’t move her gaze from the scene beyond. Sheriff Vere cleared his throat. “We have already confirmed he was a bootlegger, trading and selling illicit goods. Did you know of this? Zoe, it is imperative you answer honestly.”
“Yes. But I—”
“That is fine. We at the CF already know. You are not in any trouble.”
He then turned to fully face her. Zoe finally looked over at him and saw a man with such a chiseled profile that he seemed to actually be carved from bedrock. The Sheriff looked to be in his mid-50s and in amazing shape. The uniform he wore was silvered at the seams, though remained the same blue as the other officers. An insignia of a starred rank was stitched upon his left shoulder. Zoe could see within his eyes a man of pure principle, of unbreakable duty.
“I am sorry for your loss,” he said. “All untimely loss of life is sour to the heart and acidifies our society.”
“What happened?” asked Zoe.
He exhaled. “Ma’am, I am sorry. Our investigations are underway. I will say however, we have confirmed a single occupant was onboard and it was Mr. Henry.”
“I understand,” said Zoe quietly.
“Please also understand, we will do everything we can to discover the fault of this unfortunate incident. You may trust in my abilities and in my crew’s abilities.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.”
He turned and looked out, putting a definite hold on the conversation. Zoe did not care to look at Captain Henry’s gravesite anymore and instead turned her attention to the monitors above them. Scrolling text from the 3D compilers showed the various elements being digitized from the debris field. Oh, Henry, she thought. What happened?
A minute or so passed before the Sheriff spoke once more. “Space,” he said, in singly the most epic tone Zoe had ever heard. She looked at the stoic officer, but he continued staring out beyond them. “The CF is here to uphold peace and neutrality throughout it. People like Mr. Henry undermine these efforts.” He paused, seemingly lost in the stars. “However, he is one of the citizens we have vowed—I have vowed—to protect. As such, it is my personal responsibility to alkalize the conditions of his death, which I uphold with the sincerest authority.”
He turned to Zoe. “You are free to go, Miss Zoe.” He stared at her as if analyzing her.
She nodded once. “Thank you, Sheriff Vere.”
“I must go attend to my duties. You may stay as long as you need and then you may depart. Your ship is in Hangar 3.”
From one last look out at the cosmos, he turned to leave but then paused, eyeing Darious. “Before I depart, may I ask one more question?” Zoe nodded. “I am intrigued as to why one would travel with a working clone. I assume a servant for your more cumbersome tasks? It’s an interesting idea, I must say.”
“No Sheriff, I—”
“Say no more.” He evidenced a twinge of disapproval, said nothing more himself, and left.
Zoe turned her attention back to the wreckage and the pair stared in reverent silence for several minutes.
Darious soon became somewhat fidgety. “Shall we go?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Zoe.
He turned and began walking to the door, but Zoe remained. With somber steps, she walked up to the window and pressed a hand to it.
“Goodbye, Captain Henry,” she whispered and gave a soft kiss to the window, the profile of her lips imprinting the glass and sending out an everlasting kiss into the cold of space toward the final resting place of the late moonshiner.
Chapter 32
An Absolute Resolution
Once relieved of the investigative task force and onboard their ship, the pair set sail in hallowed space. For the next hour, Zoe and Darious worked in silence at their consoles; Zoe, in particular, was avoiding the poignant spirits brewing from within. As she typed on her digital keyboard, her rational mind was attempting to console her rueful soul. Captain Henry, as effectual as any captain before him, had been set upon a pyre and sent out into the medium of his cruising. There was a sort of nobility and sanctity in this. But in the means of his death, there was treachery—murder. The fact that the destruction of his ship was so complete as to reduce it to such small bits had to have been done on purpose. This was obvious. What’s more, the job was done by a very thorough explosive device. Zoe’s heart wrenched. How could this have happened? Pantheon Industries? The CF? Were they in it together? Or was the CF innocent in all this, putting the pieces together itself? One particular thought, stemming from her meeting with Professor Kring, bore deeper and deeper into her: what if, by back-tracking her movements, Pantheon had found Captain Henry and his ship containing, unknowingly to him, that direct evidence of their secret? Was this all her fault?
As if Darious could sense the invisible, albeit thick, cloud of self-destructive rumination about the captain’s seat, he came to Zoe and offered her a warm smile and gentle hand upon her shoulder. He then moved behind her, placing his other arm on her opposite shoulder and began working away the tension from her muscles. Zoe looked down at the tattooed fingers and followed them until they disappeared behind her. Darious worked along the curves of her shoulder blades, pressing compassionate hands into knots and then wiping them away into nothingness. As he massaged his way back up and was again at her shoulders, Zoe placed her hands over his.
“Thank you,” she said softly. Darious grasped her hands tenderly and then resumed kneading through her melancholy disposition.
Zoe soon drifted far away from reality, off in abstractions of a mid-summer’s dream. Darious’ hands warmed her skin like sunlight’s embrace. The feeling was as pure as dawn’s first rays. It was as if she could feel the dampness of an early morning being pulled up from the ground while plants began to extrude their aromatic oils. Everywhere, life was being lifted skyward by some remarkable force—something more fundamental than the thermodynamic laws of heat. Something like… a sudden beeping began from the center console. Zoe lifted the sun-kissed veil from her eyes and looked onscreen. I
t was a call from Professor Kring. She sat straight up and opened the call.
“Hello Prof—”
“Zoe!” he said excitedly. “Zoe this is no doubt a piece from the craft Origin-X. A truly wonderful find!”
“That’s great news professor. What of the—”
“The nature of the artifact?” he finished for her. “Amazing indeed! I must tell you, at first, I had thought one of the graduate students had been fiddling with the calibrated settings of my equipment. But no! Alas, all was functioning properly. Well, I did have to modify the signal guide for the tetra-reflectron. Then the ionization matrix on the—” Now the eager professor interrupted himself. “—I’ll send you my full report.” A faint typing echoed in the background. “Sent. The conclusion of my analysis is this,” his exhilarated breathing came through with unabashed clarity like the diamond planet of Janssen, “Zoe, this object has spent time beyond the physical confines of our reality. I’d liken it to an affine space, similar to the postulations put forth by Dr. Baez in his published works. My analysis points to an undiscovered stable energy state for matter and forces, one where objects would seem impossibly lighter than air to us and very much impossible to perceive or interact with. Oh Zoe, what a find!”
Zoe had brought up the files and was scanning through them. “Professor, you validated these experiments four times.”
“Thorough, yes. I had to be certain.”
“Thank you for lending your expertise. This is no small amount of work.”
“It was my pleasure dear! When the task is this stimulating, the term ‘work’ simply does not apply.” Zoe could hear a muffled fumbling, as if the professor was bringing the microphone close to his lips. He then whispered, “I have cancelled all my classes since you left. I told my students I was ill.” He quickly laughed and went back to speaking in a normal tone. “They can look up all of the requisite information anyhow. Shall I get started on the competency curves the university has set standard for these students? Bah. They all pass.” He paused. “I digress. Zoe, I have encased the relic in a fluorocarbon layer and sealed it in a faraday vacuum chamber.”