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

by Chris Kennedy

  Jeff hauled himself around and stared at what appeared to be a wooden platform against the nearest wall. One with indecipherable equipment and modern controls arrayed around it. One supporting the most striking figure he’d ever seen in his life. This must be the being he was here to meet.

  Professor Xaltar was a tall, bipedal humanoid almost seven feet tall. His appearance would be considered nondescript except for the wild spray of white hair shooting in every direction from his head, and the thick, bright green gloves he wore over the sleeves of his lab coat.

  Not a modern lab coat, either, Jeff saw. A white double-breasted coat with two rows of prominent buttons down the front. He also wore what looked like welding goggles. They had to be for show, because Jeff was sure he saw a pair of eyestalks sticking from the hair.

  That had to be a wig. It just had to be.

  “Professor,” Sash shouted. “We have company!”

  Jeff suddenly realized the pilot had no choice other than shouting. How could he have missed the organ music playing like some kind of ancient dirge at an almost deafening volume? It had fit into the setting so seamlessly that his conscious mind had passed right over it.

  Of course there was organ music. What else could there be?

  The man turned and stared down at them as if shocked he had company. A wave of his hand over the nearest console killed the music. The sudden silence was like a hammer blow to the ears.

  “Great Scott!” Professor Xaltar said as he walked down from the platform. The thick, black, knee-length boots had to be magnetic. “I had no idea so much time had passed! Welcome to my laboratory, Mister Peters. I’d meant to come meet you in the landing bay. My deepest apologies. I tend to get lost in my research.”

  He pronounced the word as “la-bore-a-tory,” with his accent just so. In actual English, no less.

  The alien—one whose race he was unfamiliar with—held out a hand. So, of course Jeff released his handhold when he took it. Like an idiot.

  The Professor proceeded to shake Jeff’s hand vigorously, which had a profoundly disorienting effect as it pumped Jeff up and down in time with the movements.

  “Professor, you should let him hold onto something,” Sash said dryly.

  “What? Oh! Quite right. My continued apologies, Mister Peters.” How did he manage to sound just like Christopher Lloyd? He even looked like the long-dead actor.

  Jeff managed to get a grip back on the handhold. “It’s alright, Professor. Ah, allow me to say that I love what you’ve done to the lab.”

  The man’s smile turned into a grin and his eyestalks waved from side to side. “I have a weakness for Terran monster movies. The old ones, obviously. And the Back to the Future movies. Oh, how I wish time travel were truly possible.”

  “So I see,” Jeff said faintly. It was amazing how human-like the Professor’s head was, with the exception of the missing eyes and added eye stalks. The hair was indeed a wig, he now saw. One obviously crafted to look just like the actor in the movies.

  “Imagine how difficult it is for me to fit into his fantasy,” Sash said in a sotto voice. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to do an Igor impression in zero-G?”

  “Preposterous,” Professor Xaltar declared firmly. “Magnetic boots take all the challenge out of it.” He half turned to face Jeff. “Believe me, she’s worth the premium she charges just for the way she walks like a humpback and says, ‘Yes, Master.’”

  Jeff wondered if they’d managed to drug him somehow. This was surreal.

  “In any case, welcome aboard!” the Professor said. “I assume my capable pilot and all around handywoman has seen you settled into your quarters, so we should take a tour of the lab. I have so much to show you. Sash, why don’t you make some of your fabulous lusras stew?”

  “Yes, Master.” Sash made a credible show of a hunchbacked limp as she hauled herself back down the spoke toward the station’s ring.

  “What an incredible woman,” the Professor murmured. “If only I were a few centuries younger. And of the correct species, of course.”

  He clapped his hands together as he turned back toward Jeff. “The first thing we need to do is get you outfitted with magnetic boots. We can’t have you floating into one of the Tesla coils.”

  That was something Jeff could get behind.

  Professor Xaltar opened a locker beside the spoke and extracted a set of boots. “These have some adjustment capability and look to be about the right size for you. I’ll hold you steady while you strap them in place.”

  The boots did indeed fit fairly well. They’d never look stylish, but they’d hold him down.

  Once he’d activated them and was firmly attached to the deck, the Professor released him and gestured toward the platform. “The central controls for all my equipment are up there. Do you know what we’ll be working on?”

  Jeff had some difficulty getting the boots to release their hold without yanking them up. He’d have to practice. Still, he managed to follow the Professor.

  “Someone told me you might be working on commercial applications for antimatter generation.”

  Professor Xaltar stopped abruptly and frowned. “Someone in a position of authority at the university or part of the student body?”

  “Both, actually. Apparently, your discussion with Dean Wandrey was a bit…energetic.”

  He grunted and resumed walking toward the platform. “That man vexes me. Cantankerous old fuddy duddy. It’s hard to believe the wide-eyed young man I shepherded through his course of study has become so set in his ways in only 40 years.

  “I expect to hear he’s had an aneurysm at some point. Probably just after I tell him I’ve cracked the secret of generating significant quantities of antimatter. The word makes the vein on his temple throb. It’s very distracting. He should get his blood pressure checked.

  “You should have seen him as a young man. He’d have tried anything just to learn something new. Now all he does is rave about how much this project costs. As if he has to pay it out of his own paycheck, I might add. Sad really.”

  Jeff didn’t know how to respond to that, so he changed the subject and trudged along after the man. “If I might say, your English is excellent.”

  The Professor beamed over his shoulder as he started climbing the steps. “Thank you! I’ve worked hard at it, particularly the accent. I’m grateful Oristian physiology is sufficiently close to Human to allow it. I’d wager my antics wouldn’t be nearly so entertaining through a translation pendant.”

  Jeff wasn’t so certain that was true. The Professor was one of a kind.

  “Well, to answer your earlier question, one of my friends said a number of people overheard you and Dean Wandrey arguing, and the word antimatter was bandied about with sufficient volume to be clear.

  “I didn’t get any real details until I spoke with Assistant Dean Yusstic. He’s the one that briefed me on the project. Not in much detail, though. On the plus side, I don’t believe any of them think you have much chance of success. Sorry.”

  The Professor stepped up beside the consoles and grinned. “Then won’t they be surprised when they hear I’ve cracked the secret? I’ve already created more antimatter than every species in the Union combined.”

  He gestured toward the glowing ball that hung from the ceiling. “Behold! My finest creation!”

  Jeff stared at it uncertainly. “Is this part of the act, Professor? You can’t really make antimatter, can you?”

  The Oristian put his hands on his hips and bestowed a disapproving stare on his new research assistant. “This isn’t an act, Mister Peters. This is science! If one can create antimatter in miniscule amounts, then one can do so in larger quantities. There is no such thing as being a little pregnant. Well, unless you’re a Deryran, but that’s hardly relevant to this discussion.

  “To address your skepticism, I have indeed created more antimatter than anyone imagined possible. That sphere is a magnetic containment chamber containing approximately one gram of the most
destructive material known.”

  Jeff stared at the ball in shock. Part of his mind marveled that the Professor was discussing the exact amount of antimatter Jeff had calculated the energy release for. The rest of his intellect screamed that he was standing beside what amounted to a nuclear weapon.

  “Is it safe? Not that it would matter to us what the scope of any explosion would be, but we’re talking about 1.8x10^14 Joules of energy.”

  The Professor turned to face him abruptly and smiled widely. “You did that calculation in your head? Most impressive, Mister Peters. Most impressive”

  “Actually, I just happened to use that amount in a calculation I ran last night,” he admitted with a little embarrassment. “Coincidence, I’m afraid.”

  The Professor nodded, still smiling. “Nevertheless, I think you’ll fit right in. You’re correct to be concerned about the danger, but I assure you that I’ve designed ample safety precautions for our situation. Also, do you see that hatch over there in the bulkhead?

  “It leads to an emergency ejection system. If there are any serious problems, we can duck inside, and it will shoot us away from the station at the very highest rate of speed modern technology can manage.”

  Jeff didn’t think that would be of much help if the containment fluctuated. A cold chill ran down his spine as he considered the implications.

  “Professor, aren’t you concerned about the potential misuses of your research?” he asked somewhat doubtfully. “This could make a terrible weapon.”

  The man smiled a bit sadly. “Pure research shouldn’t be avoided because of what others might do. Let’s have some of Sash’s wonderful stew, and I’ll explain my reasoning to you.”

  As the two of them made their way to the spoke, shed their magnetic boots, and climbed down into the gravity of the ring, Jeff considered his options. He really didn’t have a choice. He had to notify Dean Yusstic.

  He felt bad about throwing the Professor under the bus, but the potential damage was literally beyond imagining.

  Professor Xaltar brought them to a small compartment off what had once been a full-sized commercial kitchen. Something smelled wonderful.

  Sash waved from behind the counter. “I just got it heated up.”

  “Then I’d best clean up. Do you have a handy washroom?”

  Once the Professor pointed it out to him, Jeff went inside and sat on the commode. He then pulled the communications unit out and accessed it. He’d need to connect with the station’s network in order to access the larger transmitters.

  His conscience warred with his integrity. Did he have the right to be the informer that ruined a man’s work like this? Or did he have an obligation to speak up?

  Maybe he should listen some more before he made any decisions he couldn’t take back.

  Still, it wouldn’t hurt to connect the communications unit to the station’s network. He brought up the menu and saw it had already connected. How was that possible?

  It took a few moments rooting through the menus to discover the unit had been set to autoconnect. He’d been linked into the station since he’d boarded it. That wouldn’t have worked if there was a network password, but the Professor must not have bothered.

  That’s when he saw the connection wasn’t the only thing set to auto. The voice memo feature was on. It was set to record all conversations and save them to internal memory.

  No. Not just to internal memory. It was sending them out once the recordings accumulated to more than fifteen minutes. The contact didn’t have a name, but Jeff knew who it had to be.

  Cold washed over him, as if someone had just doused him in ice water. Dean Yusstic was spying on him. Spying on the Professor.

  Oh crap.

  A quick check revealed the conversation they’d just had was already uploaded. Jeff cursed and disabled the function. As an added precaution, he removed the unit’s power cell.

  He sat for a minute as rage built inside him, making him tremble. How dare the man? Jeff had rights, and he’d already agreed to tell the dean everything important.

  Dean Yusstic obviously didn’t trust Jeff to be completely forthcoming. That scared him. What was the man up to?

  Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Yusstic wouldn’t have had to go to all this trouble if he was just compiling information for the Council. There was something more sinister at work.

  He had to warn the Professor.

  Jeff actually did wash his hands. Some habits were difficult to break, after all.

  Professor Xaltar and Sash were seated at one of the tables. They had bowls of thick stew, large hunks of bread, and what looked like tea set out. Including a place at the table for him, something he no longer thought he deserved.

  The Professor gestured for him to join them. “Sit and eat. You’ll love the lusras stew. It tastes even better than it smells.”

  Jeff sat, but made no move to touch his food. “I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  The scientist waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t rush to judgement, my boy. This will never become a weapon. Not with the current level of technology in the Union, in any case. The containment issues are too pervasive for that.

  “Any gravity—including exceptionally low acceleration—will cause the antimatter to leak across the magnetic boundary. Even a single atom is more than enough to disrupt the containment vessel with catastrophic disruption of the protective field.

  “That’s why I have the containment vessel at the center of this station where it can experience no gravity or acceleration whatsoever. Even so, I have to encase it inside an intensely powerful magnetic field to assure our safety.

  “No one can use antimatter in any meaningful manner, including as a weapon. All I’ve managed to do is create the material and hold it. Nothing more. Perhaps the only task it is capable of fulfilling at this point is becoming the most epic self-destruct device imaginable.”

  “I brought a communicator that Dean Yusstic gave me,” Jeff said woodenly. “He told me to call him if you had any success. He claimed it was to notify the Council. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t feel as if I had a choice.

  “I just found out it was recording this entire time and has already sent the conversations we’ve had to him. He knows you’ve succeeded. I took out the power supply, but it’s too late now.”

  It all came out in a rush. Jeff heard the shame in his voice. He deserved every possible rebuke. He’d help betray this man.

  They both stared at him a long moment. Then Sash stood abruptly and made her way to a wall panel. She brought up a screen, stared at it for a moment, and whirled to face them.

  “Oatmeal muffins! There’s a hauler almost on top of us! They’re jamming all the channels!”

  The Professor stood. “We need to get back to my lab. We must warn them away from attempting to move the containment vessel.”

  “They’re bypassing the ring entirely and heading directly for the hub,” Sash said. “We only have a few minutes.”

  “Then we have no time to spare. Come with me, Mister Peters.”

  Jeff blinked. “But I betrayed you.”

  The Oristian scientist shook his head. “We only have time for the short version of this conversation, so listen up. I’ve already informed the Council of my success. I sent a hardcopy message on the same excursion when Sash picked you up.

  “In fact, they probably have my summary in their hands already. That’s old-fashioned, but when you live as long as my people, you find tradition very important.

  “I realize this is somewhat unfair to you, as the Council will undoubtedly shut my project down as soon as their flunkies realize the potential repercussions. I assure you I have other ventures you’ll find quite engrossing as reparation.

  “In any case, I hold none of this against you, my boy. The fact you informed me carries a lot of weight, in fact. I respect the courage that took. Now stop stuttering apologies and help us stop these idiots from causing the worst disaster ever seen in this system
.”

  Jeff rose to his feet and followed the two of them out. They hurried to the spoke and up toward the hub. They’d just arrived when a loud clang reverberated through the lab.

  Sash dove toward the dock, which was on the opposite side of the hub from the spoke. It opened just before she reached the controls, and three men with weapons in their hands came through.

  Their leader gestured for Sash to back up. “That’s right, get back there with the others, lady poodle.”

  With no choice, Sash pushed away, floating toward the area where the Professor and Jeff had ended up near the emergency pod. She expertly brought herself to a stop as a fourth figure came through the lock: Assistant Dean Yusstic.

  The Zuul shot them a toothy grin. “Well, it seems the study group has gathered. I’ll admit I never expected to take possession of this gem so soon, Mister Peters. I actually never expected the mad scientist to succeed.

  “Well done, by the way. Too bad no one will associate you with the discovery.”

  “If it’s to become a weapon, I can live without the recognition,” the Professor said with cold dignity. “I’d never have expected this of you, Yusstic.”

  The dean turned to his men. “And never say ‘lady poodle’ again or I’ll rip your throat out. My people find it extremely offensive.”

  Part of Jeff’s mind prompted that he should try to figure out what the real phrase had been, but this really wasn’t the time.

  Once the minion nodded, the dean continued. “Go get the portable power connections. We have to move the containment vessel, and we’ll need to provide the energy it needs during the transfer.”

  “You have no idea what you’re doing,” the Professor continued. “The containment vessel is far too unstable to move. You’ve come all this way for nothing, I’m afraid. What did you hope to gain anyway? The Guild will expel you, so it can’t simply be stealing my research.”

  The dean laughed long and hard. “Oh, that is entirely too rich. All you can see are scholarly papers and knowledge for its own sake.

  “No, I have aspirations of a more prosaic nature. I’m going to sell the technology and antimatter to some people who can put it to very lucrative use. And don’t think for a moment that you can fool me into believing the ridiculous claim that I can’t leave with my prize, either. Now, where are your research notes?”