Bara dropped into her chair, feeling fatigue overwhelm her. ‘Galen, it’s a good idea, in theory, but I don’t even know where to start with the Merred family. They’re a closed door.’
Galen grinned. ‘They have a mining station in the Red Desert. There are three arkships docked there right now.’
‘How the hell do you know that?’ Captain Beric asked, scrutinizing the boy.
Galen beamed with pride. ‘I scan the com frequencies.’
‘They’re encrypted!’ Beric replied.
‘He’s a bit of a code cracker . . . a hacker,’ Bara explained. ‘It’s a hobby.’
Captain Beric’s eyes dotted between them, a quizzical expression on his face.
‘They’re having trouble with one of their Cube drive systems. They need parts. We could offer to help,’ Galen said.
He was obviously enjoying this, and Bara couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as she stared at her son. He had the look of his father, the same penetrating eyes, but he shared Bara’s darker hair and olive skin. Sometimes, when he was lost in thought, she saw the ghost of her own father in that youthful face.
Bara began to smile. ‘How long have you been thinking about this?’
‘Several weeks,’ he replied, puffing out his chest.
Captain Beric shook his head. ‘You are going to be as much trouble as your mother.’
‘More!’ Bara laughed.
OPTIONS
Gofal watched Otto’s face as the sprawling structure of Traum receded in the viewport. When he had first boarded that vessel, it had been little more than a modest cruiser. Now, thirteen years later, it had been extended beyond recognition. It was now part of a large asteroid, with numerous new modules made from its raw materials. It’s Cube drive no longer worked, they had drifted in orbit of the Infinite instead, hiding their heat signature, going quietly about their business. Even so, others had found them. Former followers of the Church who had heard about Gofal’s encounter with the Infinite Gods sought him out. Otto’s mother had started it, writing about Gofal and transmitting it across the Cluster. Their numbers had grown, a quiet group of disciples, keen to hear his thoughts. In return, Gofal had enjoyed the company, putting them to work to help decipher the ancient texts that they sought out. But after a decade of research Gofal still had too many questions, and he knew the answers lay beyond the protective shell of Traum. No doubt it was the same for Otto. He was young, keen for adventure, yearning to understand his place in the universe, but as Gofal studied his features all he saw was guilt.
‘She will be all right,’ Gofal reassured him. ‘Your mother is stronger than you think. And she has Adele for company.’
This didn’t seem to sooth him. Perhaps the mention of his mother and sister had just reinforced his sadness. ‘Do you regret leaving?’ asked Gofal.
Otto turned away from the window. ‘No, not at all . . . but I miss them.’
‘So soon?’
‘Does it matter how long it’s been? I know I won’t see them for weeks, at least. Mother is old, I should be there to help her.’
‘She is fifty-eight and in excellent health,’ Gofal replied.
Otto laughed. ‘That’s old!’
Gofal adjusted the ship’s course and the Traum rolled out of view. The empty expanse of space took its place. The dots of stars slid past the window, then their rotation slowed, and the Infinite came into view.
‘The Infinite . . . the abode of the Infinite Gods, or so the legend goes.’ Gofal said.
Otto stared into Gofal’s artificial eyes. ‘You’ve been there, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you spoke to the Infinite Gods.’
‘They spoke to me, yes.’
‘And they told you about the future.’
‘A possible future,’ Gofal said. ‘A preferred future, perhaps . . . The most likely of all possibilities. I still don’t know.’
‘Are we going there?’ Otto asked.
‘To the Infinite? Would you like to?’
Otto shrugged, and Gofal sensed he was trying to suppress his desire to visit that strange ribbon of fire.
‘No, not yet. We have other things to discover first.’ Gofal said.
‘Like what?’
‘Do you remember the logbook? Your mother told you about it.’
‘Of course I remember,’ Otto replied defensively.
‘Tell me.’
Otto reddened, his eyes narrow under tightened eyebrows. ‘It was written before the Fracture, by a captain called Harrison.’
‘Hannovan,’ Gofal corrected. ‘Jorge Hannovan, captain of the arkship Haven.’
‘Right. One of the first arkships. They escaped from the Fracture.’
‘Correct. Do you know anything else about it?’ Gofal encouraged him.
Otto hesitated. ‘There was some sort of secret hidden in the logbook.’
‘Yes . . .’
Otto sighed heavily. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t remember the details.’
‘The logbook contained a cypher code hidden in the text, something designed specifically for me to unlock.’
‘Yes!’ Otto said excitedly. ‘I remember. There was a secret message from the past . . .’ He frowned. ‘But how is that possible?’
‘There are several explanations: First, the message is a mere coincidence . . .’
‘Is that likely?’
‘It’s possible but highly improbable. The odds against it are astronomical. Second, the message is genuine, which means that time is non-linear, or conforms to the block universe theory where past, present and future coexist. We merely perceive the passing of time, but in reality, different times are as real as different places, and future events have already happened. There is no objective flow of time, we just perceive it that way. Do you understand?’
‘No,’ Otto replied, grinning. ‘Are you talking about time travel?’
‘That is a third option . . .’
‘There’s a forth?’ Otto asked.
‘Yes. That I am wrong.’
Otto nodded, considering this. ‘Well, one and four are pretty similar.’
‘Not exactly,’ Gofal said patiently.
‘But we can dismiss them both, right?’
‘For the purposes of moving our research forward? Yes, I suppose we can.’
‘Which leaves us with time travel,’ Otto said as he paced the cramped flight deck.
‘I don’t think you’ve quite grasped–’
Otto continued, oblivious of Gofal’s gentle dismissal. ‘And this message from the past is directed at you?’
‘I believe so?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I was able to decipher it. And my name was hidden in the text.’
Otto stopped pacing. ‘A five-letter name? That could easily be a coincidence: option one.’
‘Yes, I have considered that, but it seems unlikely,’ Gofal replied. ‘I believe this is a highly sophisticated message directed at me alone.’
‘Why you?’
‘That I do not know. But I believe my encounter with the Infinite Gods has left me with an acute sense of curiosity. I am predisposed to seek out this secret.’
‘Could that be a flaw in your programming? Could that give weight to option four?’
Gofal stared at Otto and he suddenly realized he had never really stopped to consider this. ‘You have a unique insight, thank you.’
‘But option four is boring, isn’t it?’ Otto grinned, leaning over the console.
‘Boring?’
‘If you’re wrong, then we might as well go home. I’d rather explore for a while, wouldn’t you? So that brings us back to options two or three, which both mean the message is real. Let’s continue from that presumption. It doesn’t really matter if it’s time travel or that block universe theory of yours.’
‘It’s not my theory,’ Gofal clarified.
‘Either way, if the message is real, and it’s aimed at you, then what does it mean?’ Otto aske
d, becoming animated.
‘That is what I intend to find out,’ Gofal replied. If he were human, he surmised he would be losing patience with the boy right about now.
Otto continued to voice his thoughts. ‘But what is it? A warning? A set of instructions? What does it say?’
‘The message is numerical, the universal language of mathematics. It uses the atomic weight of hydrogen as its key integer and–’
‘But what do the numbers mean?’
Gofal paused, studying Otto. ‘I do not know. They are an enigma. They form a recursive loop which always brings me back to the start of the sequence.’
‘Like the Infinite?’ Otto suggested.
Gofal had never seen the visual similarity to the number sequence, and the clarity of the insight startled him. ‘Yes . . . yes, I suppose it is similar.’
‘So maybe that’s where we start?’
‘You really want to go to the Infinite?’ Gofal asked.
Otto beamed, folding his arms over his chest.
‘As you wish,’ Gofal said, programming their Cube drive.
ALONE
Gina Horst watched as the tiny flashing dot of Gofal’s ship disappeared from the holograph.
‘Where are you going, Otto?’ she said to herself. Her stomach churned with fear. She didn’t know where her boy was now, she didn’t know what he was doing out there with Gofal. She should have seen this coming, she realized now. Otto and Gofal were so close, like child and father in many ways. The bot had been there to see her son grow into a man, Otto’s constant companion and teacher. Sometimes, she had been jealous of their closeness, but she had never dreamed that this day would come. At least she still had Adele, but Gina couldn’t help but feel old and alone, left behind on this ship that had become their home, and she suddenly felt like a part of her life was over.
Gina activated the com, overwhelmed by a sudden urge to speak to her daughter.
‘Mother?’ Adele said as she looked at Gina’s worried face. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes,’ Gina laughed. ‘I just missed you.’
‘I saw you this morning,’ Adele replied, irritation obvious in her voice. She would be twenty next month. She wasn’t Gina’s little baby any more.
‘Sorry, I . . . just . . . doesn’t matter.’ Gina replied, feeling foolish.
Adele’s face softened. ‘Mum, I’m coming over.’
‘There’s no need.’
‘I’m almost finished here anyway. I could use a break.’
Gina floundered, wanting the comfort her daughter’s company, but feeling selfish. ‘Stay. You have work to do.’
‘It’s fine, I’m on my way,’ Adele said, already moving from her desk.
The com fell silent, and the room seemed to get bigger. Gina returned to the window, anticipating the imminent arrival of her daughter. It would be good to spend time with her, just the two of them. She would make tea and they could . . .
Something was moving outside, clawing its way across the uneven surface of the Traum. Gina bristled, recognizing it immediately.
‘General alarm!’ she shouted into her com. ‘Hunter bot on the hull.’
Her message was immediately relayed throughout the ship, triggering alarms.
Outside, the spider-like bot seemed to respond to the alert. It had no doubt been monitoring their internal coms for some time, she guessed. It jabbed one of its appendages into the hull and tore it open. Air vented into space as the machine ripped into the systems beneath.
‘What’s going on?’ It was Adele, entering Gina’s room.
‘Hunter bot,’ Gina said, pointing to the strange attacker. ‘We’d heard that the Church had sent dozens of them out across the Cluster to look for us. We never thought they’d find us.’
Adele peered through the glass. ‘Can we jam its signals?’
‘I think it’s too late for that. It’s been with us long enough to report our position,’ Gina said with a shiver. She put her hands around her daughter. ‘You have to go, now! Hide! Run away.’
Adele smiled through her fear, her eyes glassy. ‘This is my home, Mum. I’m not going anywhere.’
‘They’ll torture us.’
‘I know.’
‘They might kill us.’
Adele nodded, accepting it.
Gina pulled her daughter close, holding on for as long as she could. At the same moment, the power died, and the room fell into darkness. The light of the stars seemed to brighten, a dazzling array of color. For a few seconds, Gina watched their slow turn, hoping they might survive today, but then a vast island of silver gray obliterated the stars as a Church arkship dropped out of Cube transit.
LESSONS
Galen stared at the table, watching how the classroom’s lights were reflected in its surface, hard edges becoming vague and abstract. He couldn’t focus on his studies today; his mind was filled with too many distracting thoughts.
‘What were the key factors that led to the start of the Red War?’ Trudy repeated, waiting for him to answer.
There was just the two of them, sitting at one of the circular tables that filled the room. The school day was over for the other pupils, but not for Galen. This was one of the additional classes that his mother insisted he take, designed to prepare him for a life of leadership and diplomacy – not that anyone had ever asked him if it was something he wanted to do. He felt trapped and suffocated.
Galen threw his hands up in frustration. ‘Can we talk about something else?’
‘Is this another diversionary tactic, Galen?’ the bot asked, her green glowing eyes locked onto him.
‘No . . . probably. Does it matter? All this happened more than a hundred years ago.’ He tossed the pad onto the table in front of him dismissively.
‘It was one hundred and thirty-six years ago. And yes, it is important. You must know of the history of the Cluster. One day you will be the leader of the House of Dulac.’
‘So?’
Trudy picked up the pad, checked it and placed it back in front of Galen. ‘So, you will have to know what has gone before. Let us continue.’
Galen sighed. ‘Can we talk about something else?’
Trudy returned to her chair, her movements slow and graceful. ‘Such as?’
‘The House of Kenric,’ Galen said in a small voice.
‘Ah,’ Trudy replied. ‘Your father’s family.’
Galen tensed. ‘He’s not my father, not really.’
‘You’re still angry with him?’
Silently, Galen looked down at his hands.
‘It’s understandable that you have strong feelings towards your fath–’ Trudy stopped, correcting herself. ‘. . . towards Prince Halstead.’
‘I don’t have any feelings towards him,’ Galen replied sullenly. ‘He’s nothing to me.’
Trudy activated the holograph. The lights dimmed and a three-dimensional image appeared above the table. It was a man’s face, battle-scarred, noble-looking, his eyes distant, a firm jaw softened by a short beard. Galen studied the face for a moment then returned his gaze to his hands.
Trudy spoke softly. ‘I can see by your involuntary responses that you still have very strong feelings regarding Prince Halstead. Shall we talk about that?’
‘No.’
‘Have you spoken to him since the accident?’ Trudy asked.
‘It wasn’t an accident,’ Galen said through gritted teeth. ‘He could have saved Dad.’
‘Faron Dulac gave his life to save Prince Halstead and his entire arkship. The recorded evidence has been corroborated by third parties. There was nothing Halstead could have done to save him.’
Galen slammed his hands on the table, rising from his chair. ‘He’s still alive! Halstead is alive but my dad – my true father – is gone. How can that be just an accident? Halstead was there. He should have done something! He should have done something. He should be dead instead.’
‘Have you spoken to him since then?’
Galen shook his head, closing
his eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay.
‘Perhaps that would help,’ Trudy suggested.
‘What would you know?’ Galen replied, his anger finding an easy target. ‘You’re not even human! What would you know about how I feel?’
‘Very true,’ the bot conceded. ‘I am a machine, but my cerebral matrix allows me to feel empathy towards your situation, Galen. I have known you for many years and I understand what you’re going through.’
Galen scoffed.
Trudy stood and came to him, taking his hand. ‘You’ll feel better, in time. These feelings will pass. But you must speak to someone about–’
‘This won’t pass!’ Galen retorted, pushing Trudy aside. ‘Not until . . .’ He stood up, suppressing his words. ‘No more class today,’ he said angrily, then, realizing his mistake, he smiled and added in a calmer voice, ‘I’m sorry, Trudy. You’re right, of course. I’ll talk to Mother about this. And maybe we can talk more next week, when I’m feeling better. But I’m tired now. Can we finish early?’
The bot stared at him, no doubt assessing his mental state from the subtle clues his was trying to suppress. ‘Very well,’ she said, holding up the pad to him. ‘But I want you to study the Red War and complete an essay on the inciting factors that led to it. Can you do that for next week?’
Galen smiled, calming his breathing. ‘Yes, of course.’ He took the pad from Trudy’s outstretched hand and walked to the door. ‘Thank you,’ he added as he left.
He walked the short distance to the suite he shared with his mother, flanked by the guards who followed him everywhere. Only once he was in his room did he feel truly alone. He threw the pad on his desk and fell onto his bed, thinking of his father – the only father he ever knew – Faron Dulac.
Under his bed was a box. He reached down and found it with his fingertips, pulling it into sight. In it was the small ceremonial dagger his father had given him to wear at formal occasions. Its blade was polished to a mirrored gleam, the gilded handle molded to his palm. It felt good in his tensed hand, a repository for his anger. He ran his forefinger over the edge of the blade, and a thin line of blood marked its path. The cut was precise, so fine that he didn’t feel it until later. He squeezed the tip, watching the blood pool into a drop, then fall down his finger. Galen cleaned the blade on his trousers then placed the knife into his pocket.
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