Dark Matter

by S. W. Ahmed

  “Time itself is a function of each universe. Other universes have completely different definitions of time, so the question of ‘when’ cannot really be applied across multiple universes, especially not across universes in different dimensions.”

  “But what I mean is, is there a beginning, some point where it all began, started by somebody or something?”

  “The Aftarans have a whole religious ideology that attributes all of creation to a supreme, divine entity. But we Mendoken do not acknowledge anything that cannot positively be established by scientific theory or verified by scientific observation.”

  Marc was about to respond, when another Mendoken on a vehicle approached and announced that final preparations for launch were underway. It was time to enter the ship.

  They boarded the vehicle, which headed down a pathway along the platform to one of the ship’s gates. As Marc got a closer look at all the loading activity around him, something dawned on him for the first time.

  “Sibular,” he said, “how come you guys perform all this manual labor by yourselves? I mean, you have machinery and all, but there is always a Mendoken operating each device. You are so technologically advanced, yet I haven’t seen a single robot or droid anywhere that could easily perform these tasks for you.”

  “Good question, Marc,” Sibular said, as they passed through the gate into one of the ship’s internal highways. “That was a conscious choice of our society long ago, never to tread the questionable path of artificial intelligence.”

  “Why? You all have mechanized body parts, don’t you? Why not just build a whole body and brain? With the capabilities your people have, you could build the perfect robot in no time. My people have been struggling to build robots for many years now, but have gained little ground. If we had your knowledge and resources, we would have an entire army of robots by now.

  “Think of how much work you could get them to do, more quickly and perfectly than you can do by yourselves. You could even shape them to look just like you, so much so that you couldn’t tell the difference!”

  “It appears that you have just answered your own question, Marc,” Sibular said simply.

  “I have?”

  “Yes. This is actually one of the tests an emerging civilization has to pass before the silupsal filter around it is lifted.”

  The vehicle glided along highways through the interior of the ship. This vessel didn’t have a simulated city in the core, unlike the Euma-9 Marc had traveled on earlier. Instead, it was stocked up with smaller military vessels of all kinds. There were highly maneuverable fighters, disguised scout ships, heavy bombers and various types of troop transports. The ship was carrying an entire battle-ready fleet by itself, and an army of almost half a million well prepared soldiers to go along with it.

  Soon they arrived on the control deck of the ship, a deck with 20 levels and a fantastic, open view of space outside in all directions. They landed on the 12th level, where Marc was introduced to Tulla Froahee 51450093, the commander of the ship and of this mission. She wore a blue hat, just like Commander Maginder, and was a tad taller than most other Mendoken Marc had met so far. She didn’t have her own translator device, but as Sibular explained to Marc, others could use the translator device he was carrying, as long as he allowed them to and as long as they were within the maximum coverage range of 100 feet. Translators were intentionally designed with this range limitation for privacy reasons.

  “I am honored by your decision to join us on this historic mission, Mr. Zemin,” Commander Tulla said.

  “The honor is all mine,” Marc replied right away.

  “Our plan is to first fly out at normal speed, and then enter a consar once we have exited this star system. We will plot the path of the consar to lead us straight into the middle of Volonan territory, thereby taking their defenses completely by surprise. We will attack a few targets, and escape through a consar before they can pursue us. This will send them the message that we now have consar capability as well, and they no longer have an advantage in this war.”

  Marc felt a sudden hint of nervousness, remembering that this was the first time in his life that he was going into a major battle. “What kind of, uh, targets are we talking about?” he asked.

  “The Volona do not have any space stations,” Commander Tulla replied. “Therefore, we will target their warships, similar to the ones that attacked you at Mendo-Bursal and destroyed the planet Kerding.”

  “What if they are expecting us?”

  “That is why we are taking no fewer than three ships. If we are led into an ambush, we will be able to defend ourselves long enough to enter a consar and leave.”

  Marc and Sibular were shown to the new stations that had just been installed a few hours earlier on the fifth level of the control deck. These stations contained all the equipment that would control anything to do with consar travel. Sibular inspected everything in detail, making a few adjustments and conducting a few tests. His accompanying explanations helped Marc understand the basic setup.

  “What is the actual physical distance in our dimensions?” Marc asked.

  “82,000 light years,” Sibular said. “Using our regular kilasic engines, it would take almost 2 months to cross it. But using the consar, we estimate no more than 57 minutes.”

  “Amazing! This will do wonders for interstellar travel, eh?”

  “Provided that it is ever officially permitted, yes.”

  “Well, the Volona already broke the ban, didn’t they?”

  “The Volona never pay heed to others. That is their trait. All they care about is themselves. But that does not mean the rest of us have to stoop to their level of morality. And believe me, it is not the only treaty they have broken. What makes their dishonesty even worse is that, to this day, they keep denying that they have consar capability.”

  “What! What about all the attacks on your planets and space stations?”

  “They claim we are fabricating lies, so that we can attack them and take over their virtual worlds.”

  Another hour later, the ship was ready for departure. The docking ports receded into the station, and the gates were closed. Free to go, the ship began moving slowly into space using its auxiliary short range engine. Two other Kril-4 vessels also debarked from the space station and followed.

  A seat had been made available for Marc on the deck, next to Sibular’s post. He would have no separate quarters this time, since the time spent on the trip would be so short. The seat was very comfortable, allowing him to lean back and look up at the sky through the transparent ceiling.

  After the three ships had reached a fair distance from the space station, their main kilasic engines took over. As the vessels accelerated together, Marc saw the space station instantly disappear from view and the planet Lind shrink to nothing more than a small dot on the horizon. Their destination was an empty section of space, right in between the Mendo-Zueger and Mendo-Palga systems. There, a consar would be opened that would take them straight into enemy territory.

  Chapter 15

  The Aftaran Dominion was generally lightly traveled, with many star systems completely uninhabited and some even unexplored. This was in sharp contrast to the MendokenRepublic, which had a far higher population spread across all its star systems, with a far larger number of ships traveling between them along busy segments of the Yuwa highway network. Anyone who knew even a little about the two civilizations and their ways of life would not be surprised by this disparity. The difference in population aside, Aftarans were generally more reclusive and spiritual than the Mendoken, spending their time meditating and praying in seclusion instead of traveling. The Mendoken, on the other hand, were much more community based, with a significantly stronger focus on exploration, collaboration and technological advancement.

  Located at the very far end of the Dominion, the Afta-Johran system was lightly traveled even by Aftaran standards. None of its planets or moons was considered hospitable, and no Aftaran had ever attempted to settle
here. The only alien civilization ever known to have existed in this system had once lived on the planet Tibara. But they had been gone for billions of years, leaving no clue behind as to what calamity had eradicated them. Since then, all had been quiet.

  For the past couple of years, however, a few Aftaran ships had been patrolling this star system, especially the area around Tibara. Their purpose was to keep sending out surveyors to find and destroy Autamrin and his followers, who were believed to be hiding somewhere on Tibara. Lord Wazilban couldn’t afford to send more than a few lightly armed ships to find Autamrin, mainly because the Aftar didn’t have that many ships with heavy weaponry to begin with, and those which they did have were already engaged in fighting the Phyrax.

  The Roxay that was carrying Dumyan and Sharjam had been en route now for five days. The flock of Roxays had not raised any alarm among Wazilban’s ships or attracted any surveyors, just as Dumyan had hoped. For these creatures, traveling nonstop for that amount of time through empty space was no problem whatsoever. In fact, they could easily keep on flying for up to a month. But for Dumyan and his brother, it was an entirely different story. Burrowed deep behind the folded wings of the Roxay, they couldn’t afford to move even an inch, for fear that their unknowing host might sense their presence. They were also running out of breathable air, the precious little air that was trapped in the folds of their magical robes.

  Although Aftarans had the ability to withstand hardships unimaginable to humans, this long trip through space without basic life support was becoming too much even for someone as sturdy as Dumyan. At this rate, he didn’t think he would be able to survive longer than a few more hours. Whether his brother was still alive, he didn’t know. There was no way to communicate with him, nor could he see him. The view of the other wing was completely blocked by the Roxay’s bulky body.

  Dumyan was inhaling sparingly now, trying to reduce the amount of oxygen he was consuming. He felt weak and drowsy, even more so whenever he remembered that he had neither eaten nor drunk anything for the past five days. Trying hard to stay awake, he stared ahead through the transparent section of the robe that was covering his eyes. He knew that if he fell asleep, he would no longer have any control over his breathing pattern. He would run out of air even sooner, and once he did, he would never wake up again.

  By now, he was beginning to regret his decision to leave Tibara. He should have listened to Sharjam, who had rightly insisted that this escape plan was a crazy idea. Not only would his life soon be over, he would also be responsible for his younger brother’s death, the same brother who really hadn’t wanted to come on this adventure in the first place. Any hope their dear father and his love Birshat had for a future beyond the caves of Tibara would forever be lost.

  Yet there was a glimmer of hope, for it was clear now where the Roxays were headed. A blue planet lay in front, growing ever larger in his vision as they approached it. Known as Droila, it was the fourth planet in the Afta-Johran star system. According to Aftaran records, it was an ocean covered planet with no land mass and with no signs of civilization. There was some marine life – mostly fishlike creatures, but that was about it.

  Dumyan wasn’t sure why the Roxays were heading for this planet. Perhaps there were some recently formed volcanoes jutting out of the ocean where they could land, offering them a fresh supply of hot rocks. Perhaps whatever plant life there was on the planet wouldn’t affect the Roxays, since all the plants were underwater.

  The planet’s surface was still far away. At the speed they were traveling, it would take several hours to reach the edge of the atmosphere. Dumyan doubted he had several more hours of air left. But all he could do was patiently wait. He kept getting weaker and weaker, and the urge to sleep grew stronger and stronger. He tried his utmost to fight it for as long as he could, but eventually he gave up and felt his eyes close. Within a second, he was unconscious.

  When Sharjam awoke, he had no sense of where he was at first. Perhaps he was dead, he thought, and had finally reached eternal bliss. But when he opened his eyes, he realized how far from bliss he was. The first thing he felt was pain in his eyes, thanks to the torrential, steady rain hitting his face. He sat up, trying his best to overcome both weakness and dizziness. Given his surroundings, it was obvious he was on the surface of Droila. He didn’t know how he had survived those last few hours with almost no air left in his cloak, just as the Roxay had begun its descent towards the planet’s surface. The beginning of the descent was the very last thing he could remember. After that, he must have blacked out.

  The environment was even worse than he had imagined. He had known about Droila’s constant rain, something he had once read about a long time ago. But actually experiencing it was a different feeling altogether. All he could see around him were endless streams of water falling from the sky. It was impossible to make out anything beyond 40 feet or so, no matter which way he looked. His robe was completely drenched, as were the feathers on his face. The rain was cold, though luckily not nearly as cold as the ice back on Tibara.

  He uttered a short prayer of thanks for being alive, and then began to survey his surroundings. He was sitting on some kind of rock. Its texture was like that of flowing liquid, so it had to be lava that had recently solidified. The sound of splashing waves to his left indicated the ocean wasn’t too far away, even though he couldn’t see that far. He surmised that he was on the side of an active volcano, one that had probably only recently surfaced above the ocean. The Roxays must have landed here to roost and eat. But where were they? More importantly, where was Dumyan?

  Lowering the veil around his face, he called for his brother. “Dumyan!” But his voice was easily drowned out by the hammering rain.

  “Dumyan!” he called again, this time at the top of his lungs. Then he listened intently for any response. The owl-like ears of Aftarans had over 10 times the hearing capacity of human ears. They could hear the faintest sounds miles away.

  Sure enough, Sharjam heard a faint, muffled sound, somewhere up ahead. He got up and started walking in that direction. Immediately he felt a sharp pain in his left leg. Lifting his robe, he noticed a wound on his left shin. It must have happened when he had fallen off the Roxay during the landing. It didn’t look too bad, so he decided not to pay attention to it for the time being. There were more important things to worry about.

  The rock surface was both jagged and slippery, and tilted sharply upwards the more he hobbled ahead. It was also starting to feel warmer, indicating that he was nearing the top of the active volcano. He stumbled and fell several times on the uneven surface, wincing in pain every time his wounded shin hit a rock. He called Dumyan’s name again, and this time the response was louder. Finally, he reached a ledge on the steep, rocky slope. His brother was lying there on his back, absolutely still.

  “Dumyan! Are you alright?” Sharjam was highly relieved to find him alive.

  “Yes, but I can’t move,” Dumyan whispered weakly. “I think I broke my hip.”

  Sharjam carefully unwrapped the section of Dumyan’s robe around the hip. It was indeed broken. He quickly covered the hip with both his hands, closed his eyes and whispered a short prayer. There was a momentary flash of light around his hands and Dumyan’s hip. This enchantment wouldn’t cure the broken hip, but at least it would accelerate the natural healing.

  Next, he took out a small pouch of yellow powder from inside his robe. He emptied the contents onto his hand, and formed a cup-like shape with his palm and long fingers to collect some rainwater. The powder dissolved in the water, forming the invaluable rauka drink that gave instant strength. He then moved his hand to Dumyan’s face, and gently emptied the liquid into his mouth.

  As he swallowed the bitter liquid in small gulps, Dumyan began looking better right away. “Drink some yourself,” he said to Sharjam, his voice still hoarse.

  “No,” Sharjam said. “We need to ration the supplies we have.”

  “We haven’t eaten in days. Drink a little at least.
We both need strength to continue.”

  Sharjam knew his brother was right. He took out another pouch, emptied only half of it onto his hand, collected some rainwater and drank the rauka. Right away he felt the strength flow into his veins.

  “So where are the Roxays?” Sharjam wondered aloud, packing the pouch back inside his robe.

  “I think we’re very near the top of the volcano,” Dumyan said. “They’re probably inside the crater. I can hear them screech every now and then. I’m surprised they didn’t kill us when they saw us during the landing. Nasty beasts!”

  “We need to keep our voices down, in case they hear us,” Sharjam said quietly. “They might not have noticed us. We probably fell off our carrier Roxay’s back before they all landed inside the volcano.” He paused for a few seconds, before adding, “It’s ironic to hear you call them beasts, though, considering it was your idea to ride on them.”

  “Well, we did get off Tibara, didn’t we?” Dumyan retorted, keeping his voice low. “And we’re alive.”

  “Alive thanks to the Creator, not to you! And stuck in even more perilous conditions than on Tibara. You do realize we’re completely surrounded by endless ocean? How do you propose to get off this place?”

  “Would you rather we stayed on Tibara till Wazilban’s surveyors tore us apart?”

  “Would you rather we die a slower, more painful death here, with no food or shelter and no end of torrential rain? It’s also only a matter of time before those dratted Roxays notice us.”

  “We are our father’s only hope. We must continue our quest!”

  “Yes, and now not only is he without our protection, there’s no way out for us from this forsaken planet!”

  The argument continued, one of countless quarrels these two brothers had engaged in since their early childhoods. They got so engrossed in it that neither of them realized how much their voices were rising, but that changed as soon as they noticed a shadow approaching through the rain from the crater above. As it got closer, the screeches got louder, and its silhouette became more distinct. It was a Roxay.