Dense Space

by Robert Harken

“You mean leave?” asked Pheno.

  “Yes,” said Eddientis.

  “If we can help Ti’s planet, we must try. It’s the right thing to do,” said Pheno.

  “Protecting Ertryd being my duty,” said Eddientis.

  “Yet you left your post to save me—which I really appreciate—but am I worth more than an entire planet of Trelians?” asked Pheno. “I want the answer to be yes, but that feels wrong. I kinda still believe the end justifies the means if you pick the right ending. My salvation probably isn’t the correct end.

  “But the greatest military threat to Ertryd is the Galactic Fleet, which is here, so seems like you’re doing a good job of keeping watch on threats to Ertryd.”

  Eddientis fell silent and floated motionless, staring at Pheno.

  “Let’s move to the other side of the fragment until she finishes her calculations. Ti won’t take long; you’ve seen her work. Then you’ll have better information to make a choice. Plus, leaving now means I die.”

  “Swimming in storm surge being foolish,” said Eddientis.

  Pheno made no reply but watched the Fleet gradually move out of view behind the fragment. Ti’s ship followed Eddientis and Pheno to the far side. “Eddientis, call Ti and remind her I need air.”

  “Her signal makes no waves,” Eddientis said.

  Pheno looked at his display. About an hour of oxygen remained.

  Chapter 11

  Pheno returned to the airlock and shut off his suit’s oxygen tank to conserve supplies. The small air space between Eddientis’s cyanide sea and the vacuum of space would extend his life for several hours. Hopefully, Ti would emerge from her math-induced trance before then.

  Hope. What a miserable feeling when you’re unsure whether a loved one will take the time to save your life. Needy. Desperate. Why am I in this predicament? I mean sure I’m one person versus a whole world, but it’d take fifteen minutes, thirty tops, to dock so I can recharge. I know there’s a critical moment within which we have to act, if at all, and we won’t know if, when, or how long until Ti runs her calcs; but come on, it’s my life. That ought to count for something. Apparently . . . not.

  Some girlfriend she turned out to be.

  Eddientis interrupted the continuous loop of his festering thoughts. “She’s poured the numbers.”

  “That was quick,” said Pheno.

  “Two hours drained,” Eddientis said.

  “Oh, ok.” Pheno shut his helmet and resumed the flow of oxygen then pulled himself into the ship’s current from the airlock.

  When Pheno arrived at the command center, Eddientis and Ti were already speaking. Pheno smirked; Ti had been so fixated on her numbers she still hadn’t bothered to remove her space suit. “She said we can deflect the rock enough to miss Trelia if we fill enough energy to power the ship’s dark matter manipulator at full intensity for long enough, but the opportunity to act ebbs.”

  “I’m approaching the asteroid to doc, so you can recharge, Pheno,” said Ti. “We need to figure out where and how we can find the necessary power quickly. Do you have any ideas, Eddientis?”

  “My mind is dry. The ship’s trainer said the vessel was designed to be self-sustaining. It has no means of taking in power as far as I know.”

  “Is that true?” asked Pheno. “You told me the sails recycle energy from the acceleration lasers. The ship can absorb power that way.”

  “You taste truth in part, but the energy comes from the ship itself,” said Eddientis.

  “So we find another source,” Ti said.

  “The Fleet swims around the fragment,” said Eddientis. “The flagship hails us.”

  Ti smiled on screen. “I told you my dad’s a bad ass.”

  The opposite screen lit with an image of the flagship’s bridge. A Fleet officer that Pheno didn’t recognize sat in the command seat. Ti’s father, arms bound behind him, knelt on the floor with a gun trained on his head. Blood trickled from a wound over his left eye. The scene struck the smile from Ti’s face.

  “This is Captain Grue. I am acting commander of this vessel and the warships approaching your vessels. You are violating the Galactic Counsel’s blockade of Trelia. Evacuate this space immediately or we will destroy you.”

  “Wait, I know how to save Trelia!” said Ti. “I’ve calculated the trajectory changes possible with Ertryd dark matter technology. We can shift the fragment and save the planet.”

  “What happens to the fragment once it passes Trelia?” The question popped out of Pheno’s mouth.

  “What?” Ti glared at Pheno. “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Sure it does. You cannot act for good without considering consequences for us, other people, even the universe. We’re forced into this situation because the Ertryds ignored foresight. We—”

  “So what if another planet must die for Trelia to survive? The Ertryds cared nothing for us. Why must we suffer to protect someone else?”

  “Another option may exist. I’ve been thinking about Noolak. Their world is similar to the fragment’s environment. Terraforming to suit them would be trivial. If instead of deflecting the fragment we pushed it into a stable orbit around Trelia and evacuated Noolak before Ertryd’s flyby pulls it into a deep freeze, the refugees could settle on Trelia’s new moon. We save both worlds without endangering another.

  “Sure, there’ll be side effects. Tidal and orbit changes and such, but your people can adapt as must the Noolak.” Ti’s focus on her device made Pheno wonder whether she had heard him. I must have gotten through because she’s making her calculator face.

  “Protocol prohibits interference with celestial events and relocation of populations. Our ancestors caused more harm than the original disaster trying to save worlds. Evacuate this area without interfering with the fragment’s trajectory,” said Captain Grue.

  “The plan will work,” said Ti. “It will even take less energy than a full deflection. I’m sending you the parameters, Eddientis.”

  “Fire—” Captain Grue looked to her left. “What are those? Close this channel and fire at will.” Eddientis’s second screen went dark.

  “No!” Pheno and Ti shouted together.

  Before their screams faded, a loud crack knocked out Ti’s signal.

  “They fired on Ti’s ship,” said Eddientis.

  Pheno’s throat tightened. Ti “Is her ship . . .”

  “Drifting and dark,” said Eddientis.

  Pheno’s body clenched in rage that built and built and built. He screamed until his fury drained. Slowly his muscles unwound one by one. In a dead voice, he said, “Turn us around and deploy your sails, Eddientis. We’ll use their lasers to power your dark matter tech.”

  “A pure water idea, Pheno, but I’m missing some of Ti’s numbers. Her flow dried when they . . .” Eddientis paused.

  “You’ll have to guess the rest,” said Pheno.

  “They’re firing on us.”

  Pheno felt nothing. “How come we’re still alive?”

  “Ertryd asteroids are harder than reef rock. Their lasers will take longer to hurt us.” Red lights appeared on a section of the command center sphere. “They target our sails. The ventral sail has jammed partially unfurled. We cannot fully drink their energy.”

  Pheno looked at his wrist monitor. Twenty minutes. Do something worthwhile.

  An image of Krestur, the Ertryd they met in the asteroid belt, appeared on Eddientis’s screen. “We have come to return you to Ertryd.”

  Eddientis opened a view on the other side of its ship. Eight Ertryd asteroid ships moved toward them. “How did you find my pool?”

  “We are one pod. What you see, we see; what you hear, we hear,” it said. “You will return with us now.”

  “I must swim to the current’s end,” said Eddientis.

  “The energy you will drink exceeds tested levels,” said Krestur. “You risk your life for nothing because the dark matter you pour with a single ship cannot shift the fragment. We will sink the warships attacking you, and you
will school with us.”

  “What makes your lives and a ruined planet more worthy of preservation than two planets teeming with life?” asked Pheno.

  “You surf no wave in this sea, Gas Breather,” said Krestur.

  “I do surf this sea,” said Pheno, “because I fight for what is just. Justice weighs the consequences of our actions on others and nature. You ignored those consequences and caused great harm, so you’ve got no right to slam those who pay for your crimes.”

  “We committed no crime when we swam in the fastest current for Ertryd,” said Krestur. “Our motives flow pure.”

  “Your choice destroys Trelia and Noolak. Do they deserve death?” asked Pheno.

  “Our flow produces many possible eddies.” Krestur’s tentacles jerked in a circular pattern. “Desiccation of those worlds became probable but unknown until now.”

  Pheno crossed his arms. “Like the draining of your sun shifted Ertryd’s orbit and the exoplanet’s trajectory.”

  “A possible and probable outcome of our energy drinking,” Krestur said, “but irrelevant to protecting Ertryd now.”

  Pheno shook his head. “You don’t get it. When you make choices with uncertain or unknown results and things get screwed up, you must fix the problems created by your choice.”

  “Who freezes our ocean? You? You are nothing,” said Krestur.

  “Let’s see. If you refuse to do the right thing because it’s the right thing then—I don’t know—maybe the laws of physics will turn your planet into a fireball. I guess that’s still not enough, so, yeah, I judge you.” Pheno jabbed his finger at Krestur.

  Eddientis swam forward. “I net you as well.”

  “You sacrifice yourself for these gas breathers, Eddientis?” asked Krestur.

  “I taste honor and goodness in them,” said Eddientis. “I will entwine with their salvation so that my life pours clear.”

  “We spill water on these dry creatures.” Krestur pressed a tentacle to something out of view on its command console. “We will tow you back to Ertryd now.”

  “I served a genetic sample to an Amonin Ambassador,” Eddientis said, “with instructions to decode our technology if I am harmed or imprisoned.”

  “The Galactic Fleet will use those secrets to destroy your planet and all remaining Ertryds in the asteroid belt as punishment for violating protocol by altering celestial events.” Pheno hoped he sounded official. “Join us, so we can save these worlds or face the consequences of your actions.”

  Krestur fell silent for a moment. “The pod will savor your words.” With that Krestur’s image disappeared.

  “Did you really give the ambassador a gene sample to decode?” asked Pheno.

  “No, I inked Krestur’s pool,” said Eddientis.

  “Well done.” Pheno looked at his monitor. Ten minutes of oxygen remained. “I’m goin’ out to open the ventral sail.”

  “That being too dangerous,” said Eddientis. “They target the sails’ support structures.”

  “I’m out of time Eddientis. Roll your ship to keep their lasers trained on your absorbing sails.” Pheno pulled himself out of the command center. The current was slack. He appreciated Eddientis’s reluctance to speed his exit or slow him.

  At the airlock, Pheno paused with his finger over the button that would open the doors releasing the last gasps of air on the asteroid into space. He pressed it. The void sucked him and the precious atmosphere out of the airlock. He allowed his momentum to carry him clear of the ship’s side before engaging his boosters to navigate to the sails. Nine minutes left.

  Pheno had no idea how he would open the sail, but he preferred to suffocate in space instead of by the friend’s side who he saved from a similar fate. It’s better this way.

  A quarter of the ventral sail remained folded over, blocking half of the sail’s absorption capacity. The failure’s cause glowed a bright orange in the form of a melted tie rod. Though Pheno couldn’t see the beam, he knew the Galactic Fleet targeted Eddientis’s ventral sail by the telltale heated metal.

  The sail was massive, at least fifty city blocks wide—maybe more. Though it weighed nothing in space, he needed a lever to move it because his thrusters contained enough fuel for short space walks, nothing more. The warning symbols on his suit had made that graphically clear. If he started opening it with enough force the sail’s momentum would fully unfurl the panels. But where to start . . .

  Six minutes. Get something started. He felt the laser’s heat through his suit before he reached the sail’s edge. The red glow in the hinge warned him off that approach. Lasers cooked meat. That much he knew. Pheno grasped the sail’s edge. His hands, head, arms and shoulders burned. The gap between the two panels was too narrow to squeeze into. Five minutes of air.

  Pheno braced his feet against the lower panel and heaved against the top panel. It moved—barely and slowly. I can’t take this heat much longer. Panting, he stopped pushing. Must conserve air.

  The panels continued to separate at an agonizingly slow pace. He wedged his arms into the coolness of the growing gap then his legs and body, finally, his head. Pheno lay between the panels for a moment. Shaded from the laser’s energy by the top panel, a pleasant coolness flooded him. Three minutes. He had burned too much oxygen getting inside the fold.

  Pheno worked his way toward the hinge using seams of the sail’s component panels to brace and lever his body against the fold. He moved purposefully, relaxing every muscle except those necessary to accelerate the unfurling. Two minutes. Conserve air.

  At about a sixty degree opening, he felt the laser’s heat reflected off the absorbing surface of the lower panel. Even now, so close to death, he appreciated the Ertryd’s technical achievements because the small amount of reflected energy from the weaponized light merely warmed. That will change when the panels open ninety degrees, he thought, then the laser’s full power will cook him. He wondered whether he would suffocate or vaporize first. Which would be better?

  A minute left.

  He saw the rocky hulls of the other Ertryd ships coming about, sails deploying. They were taking fire.

  “Pheno, swim back inside; before the laser hits you,” said Eddientis. “Pheno, do you taste my words? The panel opens. Pheno?”

  Pheno turned off his comm and pushed against the two panels. They opened. The universe spun. He breathed deep. Nothing. Another breath. His lungs hurt. Fire on his face. Arms, chest, legs, all burning. Too much. Too . . .

  He ignited his thrusters. Get out—

  Pheno’s helmet hit something hard, cartwheeling him through space. He frantically punched the thruster controls to stop their burn. Stars. Ships. Fragment. Stars. Ships. Fragment. Vertigo churned his brain. He closed his eyes. Breathe. Breathe. So little left.

  He opened his eyes and focused on the thruster controls. Pheno ignited them to counter the spin. Gradually, his rotation slowed until he faced the battle. He still sped away from Eddientis’s asteroid, so he fired the thrusters again using his final grams of fuel to reverse his momentum.

  Pheno floated closer to Eddientis’s ship at an agonizingly slow pace. I’m not going to make it. His oxygen meter blinked red. About two minutes—maybe less—that’s up to me. You’ve been here before. Slow your heart rate. Calm. Delay death a little longer.

  Pheno relaxed his muscles. The familiar burning in his chest and dizziness grew by the moment. Forget the end. It will come; until then, you own your destiny.

  He focused on the battle. The Galactic Fleet targeted the Ertryd asteroids, but the Ertryds had deployed their sails and converted the incoming fire to power their dark matter tech. Or so Pheno thought. He couldn’t see a visible effect on the fragment. Maybe it’s moved slightly. Maybe.

  The laser lights on the Fleet’s smaller ships dimmed and flickered. They’re exhausting their power supplies. The Fleet has to have enough juice. They must. He fought the urge to beat his fists against his thighs. Colors flashed across his vision. His head felt on the verge of exploding
. Keep firing.

  Lights on one of the Fleet’s scouts went out, and the small ship drifted out of formation. Come on. More scouts and a destroyer dimmed, sputtered, fell dark, and drifted. The heavy cruisers and battleships focused their fire on Eddientis’s asteroid, targeting support structures by shooting between the sails. All four support arms of its sails glowed bright orange at once.

  The scene before him dimmed. Pheno felt himself slipping away. He remembered this feeling. One more moment. My last one. His finger moved slowly to his comm. The muscles, his whole body, felt numb. Pheno willed himself to press the button. Nothing. No strength remained, and the button refused to yield. He tried again. Nothing.

  The orange glow on Eddientis’s ship flared into a red glare. Not long before . . . they cut off . . . sails. Pheno forced his finger down on the comm button. Nothing. Useless body. Stupid, stupid button. He strained against the button with all the rage of someone cheated out of life. The comm interface lit up.

  “Pheno, is that you?” asked Eddientis.

  “Edd . . .” Pheno gasped. “T . . . tell them . . . put . . . sails . . . be . . . tween . . . yurrzzz”

  “I do nothing until you swim back to ship,” said Eddientis.

  “No . . . more . . .”

  “Pheno—”

  “We intercept transmission,” said an unfamiliar Ertryd voice. “Understand and will comply. May the current carry you deep, friend of Ertryd.”

  “Pheno!”

  Pheno smiled weakly as the other Ertryd asteroids encircled Eddientis’s ship precisely slotting their sails between each other. Now the adjacent Ertryd sails absorbed all the Galactic Fleet’s fire. The red glare on Eddientis’s ship dimmed to orange then faded away. Fade . . . a . . . way.

  Something struck Pheno hard, but that too vanished into nothing.

  Chapter 12

  Soft, slippery warmth pressed against his lips. He floated higher. Again a familiar touch. He shot higher and faster. With a start, Pheno opened his eyes.

  Ti kissed him, matching the rhythm of tears falling from her cheeks to his. Ti! He made a desperate, awkward bleat and kissed her back. She pulled away from him, eyes wide.