Captain Bartholomew Quasar: The Space-Time Displacement Conundrum

by Milo James Fowler

  "Cease fire!" Lank roared, clapping all four of his hands. Immediately, the backup lights glowed on around the perimeter of the dining room.

  Cody 52 at the ready, Quasar stepped out into the open to survey the damage. There was a lot to take in. For one thing, the dinner table and chairs were no longer located in the middle of the hall. Gruber's atom rifle bursts had sent them against the far wall in pieces, and on the floor where they had stood lay three of the brawny pirates, punctured by their own rounds and bleeding out. Markus, however, was not among them. Teeth clenched and biceps trembling, he glared at the captain with nostrils flared, inhaling defeat and exhaling vengeance.

  "It was a mistake to let you keep your weapons," Lank said. "I can see that now." Whipping a pistol from a large crease in his fur flab, he aimed it at Hank who remained beside him, blinking at the carnage. "Drop them. Or Cousin gets a seeker round in the brain pan." He jammed the muzzle of his weapon against Hank's head.

  "Sorry, captain," the very hairy helmsman grunted, his shoulders slumping with regret. "We never should've come here."

  "It's not your fault, ol' buddy." Quasar raised his weapon to shoulder height and kept it pointed at the ceiling. "We can't choose our family, as much as we'd like to at times." He cleared his throat and nodded to Gruber. "Go ahead, Chief. Do as he says. It did its job with great aplomb."

  "That it did, sir." Drenched with perspiration, Gruber reluctantly set his atom rifle on the floor and slid it forward out of reach.

  Markus was quick to retrieve it with a malicious gleam in his eye. Gripping it tightly, he aimed it at Captain Quasar's chest. "Hand over that pistol. Or I make you fly."

  "I would like my helmsman to stand beside me first."

  Lank scoffed. "The only reason you're going to lay down your weapon is because I've got your helmsman right here!"

  "That atom rifle is poised to provide your automaton with some company—namely Chief Gruber and myself, headfirst into yon wall. That's enough of a threat at the moment." Quasar narrowed his heroic gaze. "You don't need Hank. Let him go."

  "You're in no position to make demands," Markus seethed.

  Captain Quasar saw that plainly. But he didn't let it stop him.

  Episode 68: Stunning Betrayal

  What stopped the captain dead in his tracks was Hank's sudden move, catching the weapon aimed at his furry head with one hand while shoving his cousin off-balance with another pair. The red-hot round punched into the ceiling, leaving only black burn residue. If Hank had been uncertain about Lank's intentions—whether he would pull the trigger on his dear cousin—everything was now crystal clear.

  Except for why Hank had turned the weapon on Captain Quasar.

  "Looks like we have a very hairy Judas," Steve quipped, disappearing into the thin air from whence he'd momentarily emerged.

  Quasar really could have done without the gaseous entity's color commentary, particularly at this moment.

  "Well, now," Lank chuckled, his fur flab rolling as he took in the sight before him. "Looks like I must've made a fairly compelling argument. You ready to join us for fame and fortune, Cousin? Make a name for yourself in this quadrant?"

  "Hank—" Quasar's mouth worked for a moment, but no sounds came. What had he done to make his helmsman turn on him like this?

  "Drop your weapon, sir." Hank's deep-set eyes didn't waver.

  "You don't need to call him that anymore," Lank said, hairy lip curled back to reveal his fangs. "He won't ever give you another order."

  Having heard the weapons fire, more than a dozen other ragged-looking humans flooded the hall. Well-armed, they looked to be of the same stock as Markus and his filthy space buccaneer trash. Their eyes darted from Lank to Markus to Quasar and back, weighing the situation at a glance, fingers on the triggers of their sawed-off plasma rifles—undoubtedly reconfigured to fire those abominable seeker rounds.

  "Ready the pods," Lank said with a vicious grin, looking more relaxed than he had all evening. "And shut down the chargers. We'll head into orbit within the hour."

  Captain Quasar narrowed his gaze at their Carpethrian host. "So you control the electromagnetic storm."

  "Of course." Lank's superior set of shoulders shrugged.

  "To what end?"

  "Isn't it obvious, Captain?" Impatience crept into the Carpethrian's tone. "Yours wasn't the first transport pod to fall into our little net. We run a salvage operation here, plain and simple."

  "Good money?" Quasar smirked. While Lank's domicile appeared to be more lavish than anything in the surrounding area, it was not a palace by any stretch, and his crew had the wild-eyed look of beggars about them, not successful privateers.

  "After we auction off your star cruiser? Oh yes. I'm certain there will be plenty of Arachnoid and Goobalob aristocrats lining up to take home the infamous Effervescent Magnitude. And when I offer the captain, Bartholomew Quasar himself—back from the dead after five Earth centuries—to sweeten the deal? Oh my stars, yes, the money will be very good, I assure you."

  Quasar turned his gaze to the projectile weapon Hank kept trained on him as the pirates filed out to follow orders.

  "What did he tell you, ol' buddy?" What could Lank have possibly promised to make Hank betray them like this?"

  "Traitorous walking carpet," Gruber muttered under his breath.

  Quasar elbowed Gruber in the ribs, and the chief doubled over with a curse. The captain couldn't restrain the tears that sprang suddenly to his eyes. Treachery cut him to the quick.

  Memories flooded his mind of the ceremony aboard the Magnitude in which the very hairy helmsman had been sworn in for duty, raising his two right hands as he pledged allegiance to United World Space Command and promised to serve to the best of his ability for as long as he manned the helm. That had been years ago—with another five hundred added, of course.

  Strange: now as Quasar recalled the memory, he could see in his mind's eye the grim expression on Hank's face, the guilt he bore for slaying Ensign Elliott accidentally in the Carpethrian training center. But it stood to reason that such would be the case now, since the past had been altered. Following the installation of the cold fusion reactor, Hank hadn't been the last Carpethrian engineer to leave the Magnitude before the Arachnoids attacked. That version of the past no longer existed.

  Hank had shouldered his new assignment with the poise and conviction of a silent warrior, and Quasar had trusted him above every other member of his crew.

  Until now.

  Captain Quasar shut his eyes briefly and inhaled, steadying himself, willing the tears in his eyes to evaporate—which they did, of course.

  But when he opened his eyes, he was no longer standing in the Carpethrian dining hall with his treacherous helmsman. Suddenly, Captain Quasar found himself back on the bridge of his ship, the glorious Effervescent Magnitude—under attack.

  "Captain, your orders!" Commander Wan clung to her console, struggling to stand upright behind Quasar's chair.

  He looked back at the weapons console and Lieutenant Davis who stood there with those gorgeous turquoise eyes locked on him, awaiting his word to fire. He whipped a glance over his shoulder and found Hank at the helm, all four of his arms spread out across the console, doing his damnedest to avoid every shot fired by the enemy vessel and managing to succeed half the time. On the viewscreen were the two Arachnoid vessels they had encountered earlier—the bounty hunters sent to collect a Goobalox toll in blood, if not in credits.

  "Return fire!" Quasar leapt into his deluxe-model captain's chair, swiveling it to face his first officer as an enemy barrage sent the Magnitude rocking. "Have we hailed them?"

  She blinked at him, perplexed by his demeanor. "Yes, sir—just a minute ago—"

  "Hail them again. Find out what they want."

  "They want the reactor, sir." She spoke to him as though he were suffering from amnesia—which wasn't far off the mark.

  "Well, they're not getting it!" Quasar sprang from his chair, charging toward Davis's p
ost. "Lieutenant, you're relieved."

  "Sir?" She looked crestfallen.

  He couldn't explain to her why. Not now.

  Episode 69: Officer Down

  What could he possibly tell her? I've seen the future, and you're not in it. You're going to die here and now unless you get the hell off my bridge.

  Another blast rocked the Effervescent Magnitude, sending a violent shudder coursing through the hull.

  "External plating is at critical, Captain," Commander Wan reported with a frown. She glanced from Davis, who had yet to leave the vicinity of her post, to Quasar, who had assumed it and was busy hurling every torpedo they had at the two Arachnoid vessels. "We have to get out of here, sir."

  "Charge up the new reactor!" Quasar hollered, and Hank nodded quickly.

  "It's ready," he growled. "Only—it hasn't been fully tested yet."

  Captain Quasar now knew why his crew members had slowly yet steadily begun to disappear on board the Magnitude from this point forward. The cold fusion near-lightspeed reactor was a finicky beast, and while the Carpethrian engineers had run a battery of tests on it down on the surface, the ship was in space now, and this was a different environment entirely.

  "Captain—" Davis didn't seem to know what to do with herself.

  "Do I need to have Chief Gruber escort you to your quarters?" Quasar glanced up at her briefly, hating himself for being so brusque. If his attempt to save her life failed, this would be her last memory of him.

  "No, sir." Blinking back a shimmering gleam in her eyes, she turned on her heel and strode from the bridge with her head held high.

  Captain Quasar watched her go, but then quickly returned to the job at hand: sending another plasma torpedo or few at their ugly spider friends.

  "Sir—" Wan leaned toward him. "What was that all about?"

  Quasar focused on the viewscreen. The Arachnoid ships had separated just like they had during their first encounter with the Magnitude, moving fore and aft of Quasar's vessel by a few hundred meters.

  "You need your weapons officer at her post—"

  "I need her alive!" he blurted out before he knew it. "I need all of you alive. I got us into this mess, and I'm going to get us out of it. Hank—fire up the reactor!"

  The very hairy helmsman nodded, his hands flying across the helm console as if with minds all their own. It hadn't taken him long to master the ship's controls, and now here he was preparing to send them at near-lightspeed as far away as possible.

  Quasar's gaze lingered on the Carpethrian for a moment, and he felt his insides seize up. When he'd last left Hank, the loyal helmsman had been aiming a projectile weapon at his head. Quasar couldn't help himself now as doubts blossomed in his mind. Had Hank rigged the reactor to malfunction, causing the gradual disappearance of the ship's entire crew complement? Had the Cousins Carpethria been in cahoots as far back as this?

  Shaking the ludicrous thoughts from his mind, Quasar focused on Wan as another violent blast hit the Magnitude, followed by another in quick succession.

  "Prepare the crew for a jump to near-lightspeed!"

  "Captain, the Carpethrian is right," Wan said. "The reactor may not be completely stable—"

  Another blast from the Arachnoids' laser cutter sent sparks flying along every console on the bridge, followed by a scream outside the bridge exit.

  "Take over." Quasar gestured for Wan to assume command of the ship's weapons console as he left the bridge running. "Make the jump!" he shouted back at Hank.

  Quasar dashed to the nearest alcove with his stomach twisting, somehow already knowing what he would find at the bottom before he found it. Leaping to the rungs and clambering down the ladder as fast as he could, he caught sight of her below. Lieutenant Davis lay twisted on the deck floor, one of her legs turned unnaturally behind her back with a broken femur bulging out of it.

  "You're going to be all right." He landed at her side in a crouched position, resting his hand on her shoulder and jerking his head against his collar to activate the communication device. "Dr. Yune, get a medical unit to deck eleven ASAP. We have an officer down!"

  "With all due respect, Captain, we have people down all over the ship." The doctor's voice carried an unmistakable edge of exasperation. The Arachnoid attack was already stretching the medical crew to its limits. But with resignation, she added, "I'm on my way, sir."

  "You should be on the bridge." Davis grimaced tightly.

  Quasar squeezed her shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere until you're in better hands." He flashed her a winning smile intended to instill confidence.

  "Permission to—" She seized up with a sudden spasm. "To speak freely, sir."

  He nodded. "Of course."

  "How did I fail you?"

  "What? You never—!"

  "You relieved me of duty, sir."

  "Oh. That." He blew out a short sigh, squeezing her shoulder again. She cringed at his touch, and he withdrew his hand with a frown. "Let me guess. You landed on that shoulder."

  She nodded. "I think it's out of socket."

  "My goodness, Captain, you're certainly firing on all cylinders." Steve materialized on the other side of Davis's broken leg. Leaning on his oaken staff, the obnoxious hallucination surveyed the damage and clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Are you noticing a theme here yet, Earth Man?" The staff swept down to knock the captain's head. Quasar jerked back with an indignant scowl on contact. "You can't change the past, Captain! You can only make a mess of things. Instead of perishing at her post with honor, this fine young officer now lies in ruin like a broken marionette. And you're the only one to blame for this. You couldn't leave well enough alone!"

  Episode 70: Narvana 6

  With a strangled cry, Quasar charged headlong at the gaseous entity, half-expecting to pass straight through him in his fit of patience-depleted rage. But instead, he found his hands close on Steve's throat, pinning him flat against the wall. "Get the hell out of my head!"

  Steve's eyes twinkled, and he smiled with pity. "I'm not in your head, captain. Look." He glanced over to where Lieutenant Davis lay bleeding out.

  Quasar looked. He froze.

  There knelt a perfect copy of himself beside the fallen weapons officer, taking her hand in both of his and offering her words of comfort.

  "What devilry is this?" he murmured, unable to believe his eyes. His grip slackened on Steve's throat. "What have you done to me?"

  Steve let out a patient sigh. "There is nothing you can do for her, Captain. This is the past, and that is your past self—"

  Quasar turned on him with fire blazing in his eyes. "I knew you had something to do with this!" He jabbed an accusatory finger at the old wizard. "It was you, all along—dragging me back and forth through time. Don't even try to deny it. I'm onto you now!" He narrowed his heroic gaze, then threw a forearm against Steve's throat, shoving him against the wall. "Take me back, I tell you. Right now. Take me back to the bridge! I won't relieve her of duty—I'll make up some sort of pretense for why she can't be—"

  "You really haven't learned anything, have you?" Steve spoke without strain, as if the pressure from the captain's arm didn't affect his vocal chords in the least. "No matter how many times you've returned to the past, you've failed to notice it cannot be changed."

  "I have changed it, damn you! Hank never killed Elliott—not the first time around—"

  "And he never had to carry that burden on his shoulders, either. Both sets of them." Steve shook his head. "Variables can be altered, as you have seen, but the big picture remains the same. Except now, Lieutenant Davis will leave her corporeal life believing she was a failure, thanks to your meddling. The one person you wanted to save, all along. The reason you searched for that magical elixir on Opsanus Tau Prime, hoping it would allow you to make up for any mistake." He paused. "Take a good look at her, for this is the last time you will ever see Lieutenant Davis alive."

  "No!" Quasar reeled to face his younger self and the lieutenant.

  Dr. Yune h
ad arrived, and she was telling him the damage was worse than it appeared. Davis had internal injuries, with blood pooling in her lungs. If they didn't get her into surgery immediately—

  Then another blast rocked the ship, and Davis cried out with crimson spilling from her lips.

  "Send me back! I know you can." Quasar raised a clenched fist at the wizard. "Or so help me, I'll tear you apart!"

  In reply, Steve lowered his oaken staff toward the captain. "Take hold then, and we'll be off."

  "I knew it." Quasar grabbed onto the wizard's staff, for a moment feeling a little like Scrooge from Dickens' ancient A Christmas Carol—except that Steve was a ghost of the past, present, and future all at once. "Take me back to the moment before the Arachnoids attacked. Let's see what happens when I spoil their ambush!"

  Steve said nothing. He merely locked eyes with the captain and nodded. A sudden swooning sensation swept over Quasar as the Magnitude dissolved in a blur of silent speed and unstable gravity. A split-second later, he found himself standing in the middle of the dark, crowded bar on Narvana 6 where he'd gone to drown his sorrows after losing Lieutenant Davis in the heat of battle.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Quasar scowled at his dank surroundings. Unkempt humans and aliens of all shapes and sizes shoved their way past one another, straight through the captain and Steve as if they were made of smoke. "You did something wrong. I told you to take me back—"

  "This is where you first learned of Opsanus Tau Prime." Steve motioned toward a scarred table in a gloomy corner where an unshaven Captain Quasar sat alone, hunched over a mug of foul-smelling brew and grimacing with every slug. "How long did you sit there?"