For a Few Credits More: More Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 7)

by Chris Kennedy

  “Antimatter.”

  The whispered word hung in the cafeteria air as if supported by antigravity, an admittedly unobtainable scientific fantasy.

  Jeff Peters frowned and leaned a little closer to Saren, his friend and fellow engineering student. The large millipede’s—at least that was the closest analog Jeff could think of for the Jeha—voice was soft at the best of times. Right now, it was almost inaudible.

  His translation pendant made his friend’s whisper seem furtive. That was damned impressive. None of the other models he’d owned had come close to that level of discernment.

  One of his instructors was breaking ground on the cutting edge of the translation field, and Jeff was helping test a next-gen version of the tech. Well, something past the next generation, probably.

  It wasn’t always this sensitive, but the professor had taken steps to ensure it was as accurate as her research could make it. At least so far as the races her test subjects were most likely to encounter here at the university.

  That wasn’t to say he hadn’t run into a few glitches. Mostly revolving around cursing, of all things. Some of the translations were hilariously wrong. He’d made note of each occurrence and would return that with the pendant at the end of the semester.

  “I’m sorry,” Jeff said after a long moment. “Could you speak up? I thought you said antimatter?”

  “Shhhh!” the Jeha said anxiously. “Keep your voice down.”

  “As far as I know, antimatter isn’t a big secret,” he said dryly. “Humans made some before the Union found us.”

  It was amazing how impressive his friend’s version of a flat stare was, since he didn’t have eyes.

  “So have we, Monkey Boy, but only numbered in atoms and at great cost. Professor Xaltar is rumored to have discovered a theory that might lead to the creation of significant quantities of the stuff relatively cheaply. They say that’s why the Council is debating expelling him from the Science Guild.”

  Jeff leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his juice, and considered that. The food in the university cafeteria was universally terrible, but the juices were terrific.

  It had taken him a while to get past his astonishment that a cafeteria at a major Science Guild university produced food for its students that prisons on Earth would have rejected on humanitarian grounds, but he was beginning to suspect foul play. Seriously, there wasn’t a single species that found any of the dishes here to their taste. Not a single one.

  That was statistically unlikely and fueled his growing suspicion that the food servers were Guild researchers performing some obscure research project on their fellow students. If so, he didn’t want to encourage that kind of thing by giving them data.

  They might tag him for special study, and he could only imagine how that would manifest itself. He shuddered and pushed the thought away.

  “So, wouldn’t that be a good thing?” he finally asked. “The power generating capabilities would be impressive.”

  “As would the destructiveness of the weapons. It is Forbidden Science.”

  Jeff could actually hear the capitalization of the words.

  That was a term one didn’t expect to hear at a Science Guild university. In fact, Jeff had never heard anything like it in the six years he’d been studying here.

  “Is there such a thing as Forbidden Science? I thought the Science Guild explored all lines of research. It said so in the welcome packet when I arrived for classes.”

  “This is no joking matter,” the Jeha said sternly. “Some types of research are too dangerous to explore. The destructive power of antimatter would be unimaginable. Visualize how many lives an antimatter bomb could extinguish. Would your people use such a weapon?”

  Probably, but Jeff shook his head in negation anyway.

  His race’s status as one of the few species that produced mercenaries was a sore point between him and his friend. Jeff wasn’t going to admit that he knew humans would use weapons like that if they could. Saren wouldn’t believe humans had the restraint.

  Even though Jeff knew humanity would impose firm rules on the use of such a weapon, there were others in the universe who would exterminate billions without the slightest qualm. So, Saren’s point was still valid.

  Jeff considered his friend for a long moment before he continued. “I thought the practical limitations of producing the stuff were so stringent that it cost an amazing amount of resources and took a huge amount of equipment to create. How could Professor Xaltar have found a way around that?”

  The Jeha rippled, his race’s version of a shrug. “I don’t know. The only fact I can confirm at all is he was here looking for another lab assistant this morning. He spoke to Dean Wandrey. Well, perhaps ‘spoke’ is too mild a word. Let us say that words were exchanged at a volume sufficient to allow people throughout the building to gather the basic points of their disagreement.”

  That mental image made Jeff chuckle. In fact, he suspected his friend was understating it a little.

  Dean Wandrey might be human, but that didn’t mean Jeff was exempt from being eviscerated by the man’s sharp tongue. The head of the engineering department had a well-earned reputation that occasionally fell somewhat short of reality.

  Rumor said the man had once flipped a desk during a heated discussion with a colleague. Ironically, about antimatter, if he remembered correctly. Jeff wondered if that associate had been Professor Xaltar.

  All Jeff knew for certain was that he had no desire to get on Dean Wandrey’s bad side. Even the man’s good side was almost comically irascible. For God’s sake, he had a mat in front of his office door that said Get off my lawn and an official closed-door policy.

  Thankfully, he had a very capable assistant that shielded him from having to interact with any of the student body. Assistant Dean Yusstic, a Zuul, got along with most people. Jeff had interacted with him on several occasions and had no complaints.

  He was about to ask his friend for more details when he saw Assistant Dean Yusstic enter the cafeteria and start scanning the crowd. The canine-like being could operate in either biped or quadruped mode. For the moment, the dean was standing on his hind legs for a better view.

  Yusstic’s scanning stopped when he looked at their table. He dropped to all fours and started in their direction.

  “Dean Yusstic is here,” Jeff said quietly. “That can’t be a coincidence. How many people did you tell this story to?”

  “Just you. He can’t be here to chastise me for gossiping. What did you do this time?”

  The Zuul stopped at their table and showed his teeth in his version of a smile. One that, while not as intimidating as a Besquith, was still unsettling to most humans.

  “Good afternoon, gentle beings. Saren, might I speak with Jeff in private?”

  Saren wasted no time bowing his head and leaving Jeff to his fate. The rat.

  Jeff spent the next few seconds reviewing his recent conduct. Nothing popped out as worthy of a visit by the leadership of the engineering department. Well, maybe he shouldn’t have built that robot for the gladiatorial games last month, but most of the parts had survived the experience and made it back to the lab.

  “Is something wrong, Dean Yusstic?” he asked once they were alone.

  The Zuul turned his attention to Jeff. “In a manner of speaking. Nothing you’ve done, I assure you, but it does impact you.

  “As you are no doubt aware, all graduate students are required to perform work under a professor as part of their doctoral studies. In most cases, the professor will approach a promising student they already have an existing relationship with. However, that is not always the case.

  “In a few circumstances, the professor requests the department assign someone to support them. When that happens, we use random selection to identify potential candidates and the first one that meets the professor’s requirements is sent to assist them in their research for the mandated period of one year.”

  The dean seemed to sigh. “It is my unfort
unate duty to inform you that this has occurred, and you have been selected. I realize this likely comes at an inopportune moment and is likely a shock, but your sabbatical begins today.”

  This turn of events did shock Jeff. He’d had no idea they could just grab someone at random and send them off to work for someone they’d potentially never met.

  He’d already entered discussions with one of his favorite instructors about joining her team at the end of the semester. Speaking of that, he was in the middle of preparing to take his exams. He couldn’t just leave before he did that.

  “Dean Yusstic, I’m getting ready to take my examinations.”

  The Zuul nodded. “That is being taken into consideration. I’ve already spoken with your instructors—who are universally complimentary of your performance, by the way. They will not require any further testing to grant you top tier scores on your finals, based on your current progress. Well done.”

  Jeff wasn’t certain he’d have earned top marks in all his classes, but he knew he’d have passed every class. It sounded as if they were sweetening the deal so he couldn’t complain. He wracked his brain for any other potential objections and came up blank.

  Lacking any option, he nodded at the dean. “I see.”

  “I very seriously doubt that, but you understand the basics of the situation. Why don’t you finish your juice and accompany me to my office? I can fill you in on the specifics of your assignment and the ramifications for your remaining study.”

  Jeff pushed the juice away. He wasn’t thirsty. “I’m ready now.”

  The two of them made their way to the dean’s office, and Jeff took the seat in front of the Zuul’s desk. The chair was constructed for humans, so the dean had expected to return with him.

  It was sinking in that Jeff really didn’t have a choice in this matter. He wondered what would happen if he refused.

  Like many offices in academia, the dean’s was small and packed with books, even though they could all have fit on a single slate. It also had shelves with memorabilia—the dean seemed to be a collector of sports-related knick-knacks—and the bare walls held numerous images of the dean with other people.

  It seemed as if many of the people with him were from outside the halls of learning. Some seemed to be politicians, others business leaders, and some were mercenaries.

  Although the Zuul were a mercenary race, they weren’t devoted to being mercenaries like humanity. They did plenty of other work. Jeff thought of them as dabblers, even if that wasn’t precisely so.

  Dean Yusstic settled into a seat that was more of a padded bench designed to support his torso. It raised the Zuul up so he could see over the desk.

  “I’d imagine you have many questions. Ask them, and I shall do my best to give you complete and coherent answers.”

  Why not start with the big one?

  “Am I really obligated to do this? What happens if I decline the offer?”

  “That would set off an unfortunate series of events cumulating with your expulsion from this august institution. You signed papers agreeing to this eventuality when you arrived. I would deeply regret losing such a promising scholar, so I urge you to turn away from that path.”

  Jeff didn’t remember signing any such document, but he probably had. There had been so many, and it had been six years. Counting the year he’d agreed to work with a professor’s research, he was only two years away from defending his own doctorate. He couldn’t throw that away.

  He sighed. “Well, that being the case, I suppose I’d best hear what kind of work I’ll be doing. What can you tell me about the research I’ll be assisting with?”

  The dean looked uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I don’t have very much information. The specifics are not available. All I can tell you with any certainty is the project revolves around the potential generation of antimatter. The lead researcher is Professor Xaltar, by the way. Have you ever met him?”

  Jeff shook his head. “No, sir. I never had any classes under him, and I can’t recall anyone ever pointing him out to me. In fact, I know very little about him other than he specializes in particle physics. How does my engineering background play into generating antimatter? Which, by the way, I thought we already knew how to generate.”

  “My apologies for being imprecise.” The dean showed his teeth again. “We do know how to generate antimatter an atom or two at a time and at incredibly great cost. Professor Xaltar is exploring the potential of commercial generation.

  “He mentioned creating a gram of the stuff to Dean Wandrey before their…ahem, disagreement became too…ah, boisterous. And before you insist that is preposterous, I will tell you up front that I agree with your assessment.”

  Jeff frowned. “Then why is he wasting his time, and by extension, mine?”

  Dean Yusstic drummed his claws on the desk. “That is a complicated matter. One beyond the scope of your involvement. The Council is considering his work, and the potential impact it might have. Allow me to assure you their deliberations will not affect you, since we are obligated to provide him with an assistant, and you have no choice in the matter.

  “I believe it likely the Council will terminate Professor Xaltar’s research in the near future. Should that happen, you will have met your requirement to serve as a research assistant. Potentially, you could shave a year off your remaining time with us and accelerate your graduation.”

  He leaned forward and fixed Jeff with an unblinking stare. “In fact, if you are willing to assist me in a related matter, I could make absolutely certain you are offered a position here when you do. As I said, your work has been exemplary.”

  At that point, the Zuul smiled again.

  This only caused Jeff’s unease to increase. The dean’s proposition sounded very much like the apocryphal “offer he couldn’t refuse.” The implied complement in this binary solution was that Dean Yusstic could make things very hard for Jeff if he didn’t help.

  Oh, nothing in the dean’s words hinted at that outcome, but discerning the unstated was an important skill for someone working in academia. Those in the learning fields tended to be subtle, and there was always some kind of unspoken tension in the air.

  Students who hadn’t made it to the graduate level often missed the slow currents that flowed around them, but anyone who intended to be a teacher or researcher had to see the world as it really was. That was actually part of their education, even if it never made it onto any official syllabus.

  It wasn’t as if he had any choice in the matter. He might as well reap any benefit he could from a bad situation.

  “I’d be happy to help you in any way I can, Dean Yusstic,” he said with as clear an expression as he could manage. He didn’t know how good the other being was at reading other species, and he wasn’t going to take any chances.

  The dean sat up straighter. “Excellent. It’s always a pleasure dealing with the brightest minds the Union has to offer. I promise my requirements will not be onerous. I simply wish you to keep me informed as to Professor Xaltar’s progress. Particularly if he has any notable successes. Or safety violations, of course.”

  Jeff barely stopped his eyes from narrowing. The dean said this as if what the dean asked was nothing out of the ordinary. It was unprecedented and violated every rule about working on a research project. Trust under those circumstances had to be paramount.

  Furthermore, the part about the dean worrying about the safety of the project rang just a bit false. In a human, Jeff would’ve been certain he’d heard things correctly, including the insincerity of the last bit. In an alien, there was room for misunderstanding, but Jeff was still inclined to trust the translation.

  Once again, the sensitivity of his translation pendant amazed him. The versions available to the public—even the priciest models—might not have picked up on something so subtle.

  They probably wouldn’t have, he admitted. Once again, he was lucky to have the very best or he might have walked into something without looking at the situati
on closely enough.

  The dean lowered his seat and stood on two legs. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer. You’ll need the rest of the day to purchase sufficient supplies to last for some time and pack.”

  Jeff stood and frowned. “He isn’t doing his research here? I suppose that makes sense. Any significant amount of antimatter would be ludicrously dangerous.”

  “Indeed. Professor Xaltar is using an obsolete research station the Guild had slated for reclamation. Thankfully for us both, it’s located in this system so the travel time won’t be onerous.

  “Nor will it be difficult to make reports.” He pulled out a communications unit and slid it across the desk to Jeff. “This will interface with the systems on the station and allow you to send messages without troubling anyone for access. There are repeater units that will forward your messages to the main net. It will be public, so be discreet.”

  Jeff took the unit, looked at it for a moment while trying to hide his nervousness, then slid it into his jacket.

  The dean gestured toward the door. “The intrasystem craft will pick you up first thing in the morning. Don’t be late.” He smiled one last time. “And as you humans say, don’t forget to write.”

  * * *

  Jeff arrived at the university landing pad at the scheduled time. Barely. He’d been up late packing everything he owned into bags. That included everything he could think of he might need for a year.

  The manic shopping spree to fill that list had drained his funds, so he’d damned well better be able to get by with this stuff for a year.

  A boxy intrasystem hauler of some kind sat waiting for him as he dragged the cart holding all his galactic possessions onto the pad. A five-foot-tall humanoid with brownish skin stood waiting for him.

  Her eyes sat on either side of a central mouth and she had four arms, marking her as a Pendal. He’d never met one before, but he knew of them. Members of their race made for some of the finest pilots in the Union.

  She wore sturdy-looking trousers and a heavy leather jacket. It probably wasn’t authentic leather, as it was much less expensive to manufacture synthetic hide than raise living beings. It had to be beastly hot, though.