Multiverse: Stories Across Realms

by Steve Rzasa

  “The problem is that his is way too small and isn’t leaking any medicine.” Lucinda called up an image on her delver, then projected it in a shimmering blue hologram a hand’s width from one end of the device. Brian squinted at the hazy image of a cylinder with rounded ends, magnified thousands of times. “You can see the microcircuitry here, and here,” Lucinda continued. She pointed at two sections.

  “Hmm. What is it, then?”

  “Dunno. Might be a neuro-enhancer, but it’s kind of small. Doesn’t make sense to only leave one – you need dozens to provide neural strengthening. Nah, I bet it’s a storage device of some kind. Let me get the scanners pinpointed on it, now that I know where it is.”

  “Okay.” Brian rolled his shoulder to work out an ache. “Can you work on it while I talk to this guy?”

  Lucinda nodded. “He’s conscious, but resting. You can wake him if you like.”

  Brian straddled the stool beside the bed, planting his hands on the rail. “Sir?”

  The man’s eyelids fluttered open. He scanned the ceiling, then turned sideways to stare at Brian. Anxiety creased his face. “Where am I?”

  “Rescue cutter HMRC Sennebec. I’m Captain Brian Gaudette. And you must be …” Brian drew his own delver and tapped it. “… Abu Saif Zayd al-Faraj, captain and owner of the merchant skipjack Abdun Nur, according to your ship’s manifest.”

  “Yes.” Zayd frowned. “Where is my family?”

  “They’re safe. We put them up in a pair of cabins down the corridor.”

  “My ship. It was damaged. We had a thruster malfunction …”

  “We know.” Brian read from the report. “Blew a nice hole in your starboard side, contributing to catastrophic but not immediate decompression. You got your family into their suits and did your best to alter course, but got snagged by the gravity of Pembroke’s moon, the nearest body along your trajectory.”

  “My wife told you this?”

  “She did, and so did your oldest boy.”

  “Saif.” Zayd relaxed. “He was brave. He tried to go back and help our robots with repairs, but he became trapped.”

  Brian smiled as the memory flashed through him. “Yeah. It took a bit to get him out.”

  Zayd pushed up with his arms, trying to sit up in bed. But he groaned in pain. Brian reached for the bed controls. “Let me.”

  The bed whined and whirred. It eased Zayd into a sitting position. “Thank you.” A pause, and then, “My ship is lost?”

  “Yes. Our cutter doesn’t have the mass or drive capacity to haul a ship of that size out of a gravity well. All we could do was pull you folks off.”

  “And we are grateful for that. Ana mamnoon.”

  Brian scratched the back of his neck. His face reddened. “Yeah. No problem.”

  “Skipper?” Lucinda gestured from her scanning station. “I’m ready when you are.”

  “Okay.” Brian tensed. “Abu Saif Zayd, we’re going to conduct a scan of a foreign object implanted in your body, as allowed under Section Twenty-Two of the Corps’ Hazard Regulation Ordinance,” he said formally. “Do you wish to file an objection?”

  Zayd sighed and closed his eyes. “May I opt out of having the scan?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then I file no objection.”

  Brian gave Lucinda a curt nod. She activated the scanner. The slender device descended from the ceiling, its glassy scanning orb rotating into position. It projected a wide, glittering beam across Zayd’s body, panning up until it reached his chest. The beam stopped there and focused into a narrow stream of light. It stayed put for half a minute.

  A series of beeps drew Brian’s attention away from Zayd’s rigid face. “Got something?”

  Lucinda stared at the results on her monitor. “Yeah. It’s not data storage – the circuitry’s a fake.”

  “Fake?”

  “False. Counterfeit. Phony. Bogus. Need more synonyms?”

  “Ha, ha.”

  Lucinda waved her hand at the screen. “Scanner says it’s covered with writing. I can project it if you want.”

  Brian eyed Zayd curiously, but the man continued to stare up at the scanning device. “Go ahead.”

  Lucinda punched a control. The blank panel above her scanning equipment lit up. Flowing black script swirled across a golden background. She stared at Zayd, then looked back at the screen. “Empty my fuel tanks. Ion etching. That’s an old trick, but the camouflage circuitry makes it harder to detect.”

  Brian found the curving letters mesmerizing, but he didn’t recognize the writing. He came to her side and idly ran a finger across one line. “Can you translate it?”

  Even as Lucinda shook her head, Zayd began whispering, “Allahu la ilaha illa huwa lahu alasmao alhusna.”

  Brian flinched.

  “’Allah! There is no God save Him’,” Zayd said, his voice stronger. “’His are the most beautiful names.’ It is verse eight of the twentieth surah.”

  “The Koran,” Brian said.

  Zayd nodded.

  “Blast,” Brian spat.

  Dupre sat back in his chair and smiled into the shadows of his cramped cabin. It was barely big enough for a bunk, storage bins, and bathroom, and was the furthest accommodations from the bridge. Sennebec’s engine noise and vibration made it uncomfortable, but with his headphones firmly in place, Dupre didn’t care. He took great pleasure in Zayd’s recitation of the surah, as delivered to him from sickbay by the listening device Dupre had placed under a seat.

  He saved a copy of the recording to his delver. Then he opened up the warrant file. There were a few blanks left to fill in.

  Brian wasn’t surprised when the Kesek sergeant turned up on the bridge with an arrest warrant for Zayd. “I expect you to remand him to my custody immediately,” Dupre said.

  RK snorted. Brian gave him a warning look, then asked, “And where would you like him incarcerated, Detective Sergeant?”

  “You have a brig, don’t you?”

  “No, we don’t. This isn’t a law enforcement vessel,” Brian said. He handed the delver back to Dupre, who snatched it away. “Sickbay should do for now. He’s still recovering.”

  “Very well. He must be placed in restraints, as per Kesek protocol.”

  “Oh, come on!” RK snapped. “Where’s he gonna …”

  “Enough, Ensign.” Brian’s tone was steely.

  RK met his glare with his own disgruntled expression. “Skipper, how can you let this guy …”

  “I said, enough. This is Kesek’s jurisdiction. Their rules apply. Understood?”

  “Yessir.” RK hunched over his console and turned his back to them.

  Brian rounded on Dupre. He caught the smirk growing on the officer’s face. “No restraints, Detective Sergeant,” Brian stated flatly. When Dupre protested, he added, “Lucinda and her staff are more than adequate to keep track of him. The guy is not a ship thief or a pirate. We can handle him. You can have him when we dock with Relief. Got it?”

  “I thought we would continue on to Levesque for transshipment of the prisoner.”

  “Which part of our rendezvous with a hospital ship did you not understand?” Brian said angrily. “The man is in stable condition, but he needs recovery time in a better facility than I can offer, and I don’t want him to wait three days until we get to Levesque.”

  “The only reason those people were out this far in the system is that they were attempting a clandestine transfer of a text-in-violation.” Dupre smiled. “You did an excellent job proving that case.”

  “Listen to me.” Brian brought himself nose to nose with the Kesek man. “You stay the hell away from Zayd and you stay the hell away from his family, or you’ll be sorry.”

  “Interesting choice of words, for a Contritionist traitor.”

  Brian sucked in a breath.

  “Yes, you see I know a great deal about you, Lieutenant. Our budget allows us to employ efficient informants. So do not presume to level threats against me, or there can be great
trouble for you. The Corps will not always protect you.” He indicated the double golden arrowheads on his collar, the symbols of his rank. “I will interrogate the prisoner as I see fit.”

  He stalked off the bridge.

  That night, alone in his cabin, Brian knelt on the metal grating of the deck. He clasped his hands to his chin and raised his face to the small, round porthole in his cabin bulkhead so he could gaze out at the stars. He made the sign of the cross on his forehead, chest and shoulders. “Au nom du Père, du Fils, et du Saint Espirit, amen. Lord God, I confess my sins to you and ask your forgiveness. Christ give me strength to do what is right. Show me your will.”

  He continued for twenty minutes. By then his knees hurt.

  Zayd was talking softly with his wife when Brian came in early the next morning. Lucinda busily prodded at her patient’s ribs and asked every second or third poke if something hurt. Most of Zayd’s answers were in the affirmative.

  “Mornin’, Skipper,” Lucinda said.

  “You missed breakfast.”

  “Yeah, well, Jimmy promised to set aside some chow for me. Freeze-dried deliciousness… yum.”

  Brian snickered.

  Zayd nodded in his direction. “Good morning, Captain. Do we need to talk?”

  “I think so.” Brian handed over his delver. The screen bore Dupre’s warrant.

  Zayd sighed. His face looked paler and more drawn than the previous day. “I’m sorry to say, the detective sergeant was already here.”

  Brian shoved the delver into his pocket. He turned and kicked a cabinet.

  “Easy on the hardware, Skipper,” Lucinda cautioned.

  Brian rubbed his jaw but held his tongue. “I knew what to expect as soon as I woke up here,” Zayd said. “Shepherding the prophet’s writings is a dangerous task in these times.”

  Brian looked at the slender woman seated by his side. Dressed in flowing, emerald and gold silks draped over a tan shipsuit, her deep, dark eyes watched him carefully. “You endanger your family by doing this,” he said.

  Zayd looked to his wife. She smiled at him and gripped his hand. “Soraya knew the risk.”

  “I would not let my children grow up seeing their parents abandon their beliefs to fear,” she said softly but firmly.

  Brian shook his head. “I can’t stop him, you know.”

  “But you want to,” Zayd said.

  “Is it that obvious?” Brian dug into the front of his slate gray coveralls. The crucifix dangled between his fingers. “My faith demands I face injustice. Too bad injustice is entrenched in law.”

  “Your kindness will be remembered.”

  “A lot of good that will do you.” Brian dropped the chain. He rubbed his face with the heel of his other hand. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d rather we’d not found you alive.”

  “I understand your difficulty,” Zayd said. He smiled wryly. “A dead body causes fewer problems.”

  “Yeah. Just sealed up in a bag …” Brian stopped. Wait a microsecond. Now there was an idea.

  “Captain?” Zayd asked. “Are you well?”

  Brian didn’t answer. He stared off above Zayd’s head. Lucinda finally reached across the bed and shook his arm. “Skipper! Wake up!”

  “Huh? Oh, I’m okay.” Brian smiled a small, amused smile. It could work. Maybe. “Just fine.”

  He walked out of sickbay and reached for his comm. “RK? Get down to my cabin.”

  The hospital ship HMMC Relief dwarfed the cutter Sennebec. It was two kilometers long, bulbous at the center and tapered to a knife edge at the bow with gaping anti-matter engines at the stern. It cast a shadow over the 120-meter Sennebec as RK eased the cutter alongside a row of docking ports.

  Dupre stood at the main airlock. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he tapped the delver against his free hand, humming a merchantmen’s tune he’d picked up on Corazon. This arrest was a fine addition to his record, he was sure.

  His smile dimmed a bit when a visibly upset Brian strode toward him, followed by Jimmy pushing a stabilizer capsule on a hoversled. “What is this?” Dupre demanded. “Where is the prisoner?”

  Brian rapped the smooth, curved container. “Stasis, thanks to you,” he snapped. “You have any idea the stress you caused with your stunt?”

  “What are you babbling about?”

  “He had a massive and potentially fatal heart attack after you served the warrant. Lucinda – Chief Wainwright barely had time to restart him and get him in the capsule before he died.” Brian folded his arms across his chest.

  Dupre snorted in disdain. “I trust you have some proof of that.”

  Brian waved a hand at the capsule.

  The readout gave a record of Zayd’s body temperature, brain function and heartbeat, among other vital signs. Dupre squinted. “They look acceptable.”

  “Yeah, for someone operating at near death. Chief Wainwright has the nanosurgeons repairing the valve damage his heart suffered, and the capsule won’t release him until their work is done. Problem?”

  “Not at all. Bring him this way.” He pointed a finger beyond Brian. “But make sure his family …”

  “We’ll take them back to Levesque, don’t worry. Your boys can track them from there.”

  “Good.” Dupre drew himself up into a dignified pose. “Inquiry.”

  Brian stiffened at the command. But he drew his delver as instructed. Jimmy scrambled about in his pockets for his own. Dupre produced a black rod from his belt. Its multicolored lights flashed and strobed as the device accessed the contents of both men’s delvers, sifting through private communications, data and notes. It raised no alarms.

  “Were you hoping for damning evidence?” Brian asked coolly.

  “I consider you too clever to put your own spiritual musings down in writing,” Dupre said. “Besides, I wanted my own copy of your medic’s report on the prisoner’s condition – which I just copied. Good day, Lieutenant.”

  Brian simply nodded.

  Jimmy obediently pushed the capsule through the link tube to the Relief’s airlock. Dupre stayed in the lead. Captain Thomas Renquist waited for them at the hatch. “Detective Sergeant,” he boomed. His throaty voice was a match to his tall, barrel-chested build. “Welcome.”

  “Captain. I will maintain a constant watch over this prisoner during his recovery. A Kesek patrol craft is on its way to take us both in two days, you understand.”

  “Yes, that was all in your commnote,” Renquist said.

  Dupre smiled. “Excellent.” He waved a hand dismissively to Jimmy. “That will be all.”

  Stabilizer capsules were timed units. They were preset to gradually awaken their occupants and then unseal themselves, unless medical staff sensed a problem in the readouts and overrode the timer. Dupre saw that, according to the medic’s report, Zayd’s capsule was programmed in concert with the nanosurgeons and would indeed remain sealed until they signaled successful internal repairs.

  He was content to wait out the four hours by preparing his own reports, giving instructions to the pair of Kesek constables based on Relief, and generally basking in the glow of his own satisfaction. But when the time expired, he made sure he was present in the small cubicle of hospital ship’s cavernous main sickbay where they’d stored Zayd’s capsule.

  Captain Renquist joined him. “A momentous capture?”

  “Text-in-violation.” Dupre was sure his chest doubled in size.

  “Ah.”

  The capsule’s control panel beeped, its indicators all flashing. A hiss escaped its edges as it unsealed itself and equalized air pressure with the sickbay. A medic reached down and heaved open the lid …

  To reveal a battered rescue drone.

  All the color drained from Dupre’s face. His delver clattered to the deck, shattering the silence.

  Renquist put his hand to his face. Dupre was sure he smothered a smile. “Oh my. He looks in rough shape.”

  Dupre growled. “Get after them!”

  “Who?”


  “The cutter! Lieutenant Gaudette! You must pursue!”

  Renquist shook his head. “I’m afraid you overestimate this ship’s capabilities. Sennebec can out-accelerate us and cruise circles around my ship any day.”

  “Then get on the comm and get my patrol ship!” Dupre demanded.

  “Sorry, did I forget to mention?” Renquist put on a fairly poor attempt at a sorrowful expression. “Our comms are down for regular reprogramming. It will be at least two hours. My apologies.”

  Renquist walked away whistling. Dupre stared down at the drone and watched his career disappear.

  He missed when Renquist’s whistle became a murmured song.

  “Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face …”

  RK chuckled into his hands. “You think it worked?”

  Brian grinned. “Thomas was only too willing to assist. Kesek locked his uncle up for proselytizing last year, and his oldest sister disappeared at their hands when he was a boy.”

  They were in sickbay, sharing canisters of orange spice tea with Zayd and Lucinda. Brian raised a canister in her direction. “Here’s to my chief surgeon, Doctor Wainwright, and her skill with falsifying medical records.”

  Lucinda clinked canisters with him. “What falsification? Must have been some kind of mistake.”

  “But I still need to go to a hospital, yes?” Zayd asked. “I thought that was necessary.”

  “Of course, but your injuries aren’t nearly as critical as I made them out to be to the dear detective sergeant,” Brian said. “We’ll get you to Levesque and get you healed up. I know some people who can help you disappear.”

  “Your bravery astonishes me, Captain. In what situation have you placed yourself for my sake?”

  “I couldn’t let them haul you off,” Brian said firmly. “Kesek destroys a little more freedom every time we let them arrest someone for what they believe. We don’t need religious police. Don’t worry about me - the Corps looks out for its own.”

  “Yeah, and it does help that you’re something of a local hero on Levesque,” RK pointed out.

  “True.”

  Zayd raised an eyebrow as he sipped his tea. Lucinda laughed. “Something of a hero? The man saved the prime minister’s boy from a wrecked star-sailer, and is the humble recipient of three Emerald Coil medallions!”