The Worst of All Possible Worlds

by Alex White

  “Now that’s freaking majestic right there.”

  “Everyone okay back there?” Nilah shouted over the ping of rocks on the Devil’s hull as they slalomed through a forest of boulders and dark evergreens.

  “No!” Alister called back.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I hate this,” he replied.

  This was the second shift they’d taken in the valley, the Capricious landing in various locations along a ridgeline and running the Devil up and down the mountainside to do scans. The tank’s sensors were better calibrated for finding hiding places: caves, hidden ravines, and karsts. Orna and Boots had taken the first three-hour shift, returning sore and whining. Boots nicknamed the Devil the “whiplashmobile” and claimed that it violated torture laws. Orna said she preferred to do her scouting in Charger next time, because then Boots wouldn’t be around to tell her how to drive every five seconds.

  That put Nilah and the twins on second shift, and contrary to Orna’s experience, driving the tank was glorious, glorious therapy.

  “Boots said she didn’t like it, either,” called Nilah, scarcely able to wipe the smile from her face as she vaulted a fallen trunk the size of a house. She stuck the landing, powering out of the jump to zip toward the waypoint on her HUD.

  The Devil’s clawed, articulated wheels tore their way along the craggy surface of the bluff, digging into dirt, roots, rock faces, and everything else. It’d been a lot easier to drive at the weapons expo, on a closed course with predictable terrain. Out in the mountain forests near the Rangan, Nilah had to take independent control of the front wheels—one joystick in each hand. That way, she could tilt the axle joints however she needed, jamming them into anchor points and lifting them over obstacles. The trailing wheels would follow suit, allowing the vehicle to flow across the terrain like a cheetah.

  Nilah’s psychic link into the Devil gave her unparalleled control, beyond what she’d ever experienced. The more time she spent ripping across the mountainside, the more of the vehicular assists and limiters she deactivated. After just an hour or two, she felt fully competent to push it to the edge, which disturbed Alister greatly.

  “Waypoint reached,” said Nilah, slowing the vehicle to a halt. With the press of a switch, she anchored it to the mountainside as solidly as the foundation of a house.

  “Thank god,” said Alister. “How many times are we going to have to scan the same spot?”

  Nilah squinted and checked her mission queue. According to her log, they were at the third stop of a fifteen-waypoint scanning tour. “What do you mean, mate? We haven’t been here yet.”

  “Yeah, we have,” he said. “We’ve been here all day.”

  She glanced at her mission clock. “It’s been less than an hour.”

  No answer came.

  “Alister?” she asked.

  “Feels like we’ve been stuck in here all day,” said Alister. “That’s what I meant.”

  “Please ignore my brother,” said Jeannie, piping up for the first time in a while. Nilah recognized a tired edge in her voice more and more nowadays. The recent adventures had only worsened things for the twin.

  “He can tough it out,” Jeannie added.

  Nilah punched her comm and leaned across to the mic. “Boss, come in, this is Hunter Two, ready to commence survey scan three of second shift.”

  “All right. Copy on scan three,” said Cordell. “Holler in five minutes when you’re done.”

  She tapped the survey button, and the Devil deployed its powerful sensor array against the ground, searching through the stone with its tactical scry spells. Once it was off and running, Nilah kicked back with a juice pack and stared out the window.

  Alister climbed through the divider and into the cockpit, sitting down beside Nilah. “You’re not playing a prank on me, right?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You really haven’t already done this site?”

  Nilah called up the waypoint checklist and tapped SCAN SITE 03. The map projection zoomed out to show sites one and two, the mission clock, the route they’d taken, and the negative results of both scans.

  There was fear in his smile, discord hidden just beneath the surface, but it vanished before Nilah could be sure.

  He shook his head at the map and laughed softly. “Must’ve been déjà vu. You ever get that?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Boots had told her to be on the lookout for lapses or strangeness with Alister’s memory. Was this one of them? It could’ve been a simple slipup on his part and, if she reported it, might make things worse. Reporting on his behavior hardly felt kind, besides. Maybe it was better to outright ask him, instead.

  “Alister—” she began, but was interrupted by the Devil’s cabin going bloodred.

  “Alert!” said the Devil, loud enough to remove any semblance of calm from the situation. “I have detected the object you seek.”

  As the lights faded back to white, Nilah sat up straight and checked the console. The scan depicted a cross section of bedrock, its limestone insides spongy from years of water trickling through the strata. Caves pockmarked the interior in odd spots, black holes in the scan.

  “Where’s the Vogelstrand?” she asked, and a tiny dot was highlighted in the center of the image.

  “This is our first contact with the target,” said the Devil. “It’s an antenna.”

  “It’s a dot,” said Alister, and the projection rotated and built out a few more slices of the antenna, lengthening the dot into a line.

  “I am only thirteen percent finished with this scan,” said the Devil, “so you will need to be patient.”

  They watched, rapt, as the projector built out a picture of the Vogelstrand’s leading antenna array, then stopped after two slices of the hull proper.

  “I predict that I can give you a complete picture of this object with eight easy scans.”

  That turned out to be a gross misstatement. There were chasms and rivers in the way. Close forests of stout trees blocked their paths like iron bars. Flash flooding turned out to be a danger from the incessant rain and mist. Some of the terrain was outright impassable, and the Capricious couldn’t ferry them everywhere, or it’d be low on fuel for the departure. There weren’t a ton of depots in uncharted space, after all.

  The only two mitigating factors were the Devil—which kept them dry as they picked their way across the lumpy landscape—and Orna, who stayed on the comm with Nilah the entire time. They were in constant contact with the ship, relaying as much information about the buried structure as they could.

  The Vogelstrand was even larger and more intricate than they’d guessed. Modern starships eschewed a lot of decorative accents, since rough edges tended to burn up on launch. The ships of Origin were built in a time of wonders, where they had enough raw magical might to design them in any way they wished and make them work with miracle tech. Images of those times depicted ships like launching castles, protected by impenetrable domes of magic.

  By the time Nilah and the Ferriers returned, their shift had dragged far beyond their original plan. The ship picked them up on the other side of the valley, and they stumbled into the cargo bay, beaten up by hours of the bumpiest ride Nilah had ever experienced. Jeannie fell asleep several times during the journey—not a healthy sign.

  That night in the mess, the Vogelstrand was all anyone could talk about. Its find had suffused the crew with an electric energy, and despite the occasional bout of soul-crushing grief, there was hope in the air.

  It was so profoundly unfair, then, that her mind decided to give her dreams of the strange, fleshy vines blooming from her father’s chest.

  A hull of flowing lines and scrollwork manifested before them, its form a paragon of Originata design. The scans weren’t in color, but Nilah could imagine what she might see: golden towers, silver plates, an unrestrained sense of opulence. And, most importantly, it was scanner-opaque from the surface, which meant there was no way to find a
bay and jump into it.

  The crew had assembled in the mess to review their exciting find but hit a wall when it came to how to board it.

  “So the Devil didn’t have any suggestions,” said Cordell, “as to where we jump into this thing.”

  “The scanners can’t give us a good picture through all the rock unless we get closer,” Nilah replied, touching the jagged edges of the model ship floating before them. “The Devil was able to pattern match the video and find the cavern where Witts and his crew entered down here.”

  She pointed, and a cavern lit up attached to the ship’s side like a barnacle.

  “Okay,” said Malik, leaning in to inspect the area. “So how does that help us?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” said Nilah, “and we could jump down and get a close-range scan.”

  “It’s one thing to do that in open atmosphere,” said Cordell, “but you want to do it underground? I’m no geologist, but you might cause a cave-in.”

  Aisha raised a finger. “Actually, I’m a geologist. You’ll definitely cause a cave-in.”

  Everybody stopped short, save for Cordell and Malik, who nodded sagely.

  “What?” she said defensively. “Did everything but my last semester at Sanderford College. Had to drop out and take a piloting gig so I could pay for my mom’s hospice care.”

  Boots cocked her head. “Why didn’t I know that?”

  Aisha shrugged. “Never came up. I had a life before I worked here, you know. Anyway, based on density scans, that’s porous limestone down there in the watershed ridgeline. As rain flows downhill, it removes soluble calcium deposits from—”

  “We’re on a tight schedule here,” said Cordell. “Let’s skip the lesson and assume it’ll collapse.”

  She turned back to her pilot station, grumbling, “The mechanists always get to explain things, but no, rocks aren’t cool…”

  “We’d always planned to use the Devil to jump into an open bay on the Vogelstrand,” said Nilah. “I know this sounds dangerous, but what if we jump into the cavern, ping the Vogelstrand for bays big enough to jump into, and get out of there before a collapse can happen?”

  “And the demon vines?” asked Boots.

  “Aren’t getting through the Devil’s armor. As long as we stay inside the tank,” said Orna, “we’re safe.”

  “You’re talking about mere seconds, Miss Brio,” said Malik. “You’d have to scan the ship, find a jump point, calculate, and jump, assuming the drive can recharge in time.”

  Nilah’s chest puffed out a bit. “Sir, do you know how many system commands an average PGRF racer lays in per lap?”

  Malik shook his head no.

  “One hundred and seventeen in under a minute thirty. Fuel flow, camber, transmission, braking bias, not to mention that god-awful Arclight Booster.” Nilah enumerated them on her fingers. “The Devil isn’t that complicated, and he’s pretty helpful. I can get us into that ship if you’ll let me.”

  “And if you’re wrong,” said Cordell, “can his hull take a few hundred tons of stone on top?”

  “No,” she replied, looking to Orna, who nodded approvingly, “but it beats traipsing around the caves for a couple of weeks while Bastion is out there wreaking havoc.”

  Boots cocked an eyebrow. “It’ll be a little while before they can be fully operational without an all-powerful teleporter. Harriet Fulsom lost a lot of blood from the holes I gave her. With any luck, she’s dead.”

  “Cheers to that, darling,” said Nilah.

  Slouching into one of the console chairs, Boots said, “For what it’s worth, I like this plan. The sooner we can unravel this mystery, the sooner we can strike while the iron is hot. I’d like to volunteer for the mission.”

  Cordell played with his now-useless lighter, flipping it open and closed with a soft clink. “Okay. You think we can make this work, but we’re not sending the whole crew. If this thing goes to the dogs, someone needs to be out here to rescue you.”

  Orna scoffed and folded her arms. “And what are you going to do, Cap? Dig us out?”

  “Beats nothing,” said Cordell. “Anyone else want to volunteer for this lunacy?”

  “You know I’m always down,” said Orna.

  “I’ll go,” said Malik. “This mission is going to need a doctor and—”

  “No offense, sir,” said Boots, “but you’ve been giving us all ‘tough love’ over this health initiative, so maybe it’s time to get some back: missions are bad for your health. You keep getting shot. Maybe leave this one to us?”

  “I don’t get shot that often,” he protested.

  Aisha said nothing, but laughed to herself.

  Malik looked over the rest of the crew and frowned. “Is my help not required?”

  When no one said anything, Cordell slapped Malik on the back and said, “Looks like you’d better kick it on the ship. Hope you’re enjoying management, bud.”

  “I’ll go,” said Jeannie. “Been wanting to do something big.”

  “Me too, then,” said Alister.

  Cordell flicked his lighter once, admiring the flame before snapping it shut. “That’s a full roster. When do we want to do this thing?”

  Nilah sighed and looked around at the tired crew. They’d witnessed a preeminent military force take a crushing blow firsthand, then dragged their asses across space to fight a giant turtle-crab. By the time they could return to civilization, who knew what kind of damage Witts could wreak?

  “We’re already locked and loaded, Captain,” said Nilah. “May as well get this show on the road.”

  “I just hope there’s something to shoot,” said Orna, heading for the bay.

  The open cargo bay looked out upon a rolling, sunny field, not so different from Boots’s place on Hopper’s Hope. She peered through the windscreen from the copilot’s seat, trying to see past the dozens of heads-up display projections flooding her vision. The Devil had at least as many detection systems as her old fighter, along with a good chunk of combat tech she’d never seen before.

  “Are you sure Orna wouldn’t be better up front with you?” asked Boots, puzzling through all the switches and knobs.

  “My driving makes her nervous,” said Nilah. “Just don’t touch anything.”

  Tightening her five-point restraint, Boots said, “Copy that.”

  “User Boots Elsworth,” said the Devil, “if you’d like a tour of my extensive combat capabilities—”

  “Later,” said Nilah.

  “Something has been bothering me recently,” said Boots. “And I think maybe you can help. Why is it that Mother and Harriet couldn’t teleport me or drag me into a pocket dimension, but I can enter the Flow?”

  “I’ve got a theory on that. The Flow is entered by opening a portal and flying, or in this case driving, into it. The porter’s mark is instantaneous transposition.”

  Boots frowned. “So if I was on Bastion and it teleported…”

  “Hope you’re wearing a spacesuit. You’re basically a dimensional anchor.”

  “Haven’t been called an anchor since my first steady boyfriend.” Boots grunted, adjusting her seat to be more comfortable.

  Nilah checked a few more readouts, eyebrows arched. “Why do you ask now?”

  The cabin pressurized, and Boots’s ears popped. “I figure if I’m about to try out this new jump tech, I better know why this is happening.”

  “You’ve been in the Flow before. You’ll be fine.” Nilah tapped the personnel mic. “All strapped in back there?”

  “Affirmative,” said Orna. “Charger was a tight fit, but we’ve got him braced. Sorry there wasn’t room inside for Teacup.”

  “We’ll get a bigger tank next time,” said Boots.

  “About to start the mission clock,” Cordell said over the comm. “Devil, are y’all ready to boogie?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Nilah. “Once we’re out, take off and get to a safe distance. These jumps have a tendency to throw debris.”

  “Copy th
at,” said Cordell.

  “Marshall here,” said Malik. “You’re cleared for launch. And this probably goes without saying but—weapons free.”

  “Devil, let’s get that jump drive spun up,” said Nilah.

  The system gave a little trill. “Yes, Supreme Being.”

  Boots gave Nilah a quizzical look, but she just smiled and throttled up, rolling out of the bay onto the grass. It was a bumpy ride until Nilah switched on the dampers, then it was smooth as silk. She rolled to a stop, and Boots watched the Capricious depart on the rear imagers.

  After she keyed in a few coordinates, the Devil responded with a little too much relish, “Jump point locked.” Boots felt weapons shouldn’t be so excited to go to war.

  “Start charging the drive as soon as we arrive,” said Nilah. “We have to jump again almost immediately.”

  “Acknowledged, Supreme Being,” said the Devil.

  “Capricious is clear of your blast radius,” said Malik. “You’re good to jump.”

  Nilah grinned and pushed down the throttle. “Let’s roll!”

  The engine whined, reverberating through the hull as weeds slapped across their front bumper. Either the vehicle didn’t have gravity compensation, or it wasn’t on, because Boots’s stomach dropped, and her jowls smeared back on her face. Pink energy arced across the hull, climbing up the windscreen until the familiar magical tear formed before them.

  With a great, sinusoidal thump, the world went bright white, the windscreen tinting with electropolarization until Boots could make out individual flames blooming inside a cavern. Streaks of light went flying in every direction, exploding against the distant ceiling.

  The Devil skidded to a halt across the uneven cavern floor, but the rumbling continued. A half dozen alarms blared in their ears.

  “You have arrived. Charging jump drive. Commencing scan,” said the Devil. “Awaiting jump coordinates.”

  “Hurry up!” said Nilah, watching the map resolve before her on the projection.

  Boots’s eyes flicked from the view of carnage outside to the collision detectors—red with proximity warnings. The ceiling above them had begun to crack, and a fifty-ton chunk of debris was headed in their direction.