Dylan shook his head. “How, Musa?”
“You wanted me to figure out the ship,” Musa said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I ordered the Quadriga to build up positive charges on the bag and the wall to get it moving, then let the charges dissipate. I guess I shaped the magnetic field around the bag to fine-tune the trajectory. That feels right. I didn’t give it much thought, really.”
Dylan studied his friend. “Does that sound plausible, Chad?”
“I suppose so. I never thought to try.”
“I see,” Dylan said. The bridge was silent for several slow breaths. “Krea, do your people eat meat? I know you had a burger back at the museum, but I’m not sure what was between the buns.”
“Not as a rule,” she said, “though I’m not opposed to it.”
“In that case, I suggest you try the beef stew next. It’s my own recipe, though I had to improvise a few ingredients.”
“I’d be delighted,” she said.
The conversation turned to the Collector’s history of Earth exploration. The topic was insightful for the humans and didn’t require the Collector’s to give up too much cherished information since humanity knew most of their own past. The aliens merely filled in a few blanks. As they finished the last morsels of dessert, Sydney’s Star was indistinguishable from others in the galaxy, a point of light among many.
“Allow me to show you to your quarters,” Sara said.
“It’s Musa’s and my turn to stand watch,” Dylan said. “We may as well clean up the dishes. Y’all get some rest.”
When the crew and visitors had cleared out, Dylan said, “We’ve been out here for months and you haven’t figured out Jack about the Quadriga. Why can you suddenly do things even Chad can’t?”
“It’s your turn to clean up the meal,” Musa said.
“No, it’s your turn. You can answer me while you clean.”
The men locked eyes and the instinct of years of friendship took hold. They brought their hands down in unison. Musa’s scissors cut Dylan’s paper.
“Two out of three,” Dylan said.
Musa’s rock crushed Dylan’s scissors.
“Again,” Dylan said.
Musa’s scissors sliced Dylan’s paper.
“Again?” Musa asked, disinterested.
Musa won five more contests, barely paying attention to the last few.
“I’d say that settles it,” Musa said.
Dylan gathered empty bags and left-overs. “You’re still going to tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Musa said.
#
“Chad has the Quadriga moving a whole lot faster than ninety times light speed,” Dylan told Musa. They were the first words spoken in over an hour.
Musa nodded, his shape a shadowy outline on the darkened bridge.
“I wonder how much faster the ship can move,” Dylan said.
“We shouldn’t be going where we are,” Musa said. “We’re on the wrong course.”
“You’re worrying me,” Dylan said. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ve got it all wrong. Humanity shouldn’t resist Earth’s liberators, we should embrace them. Our species almost destroyed the planet. We have the weapons to obliterate ourselves yet lack the good sense to realize what a bad idea that is.”
“Commander Malik, that’s enough from you. You’re relieved. Report to your quarters. I’ll ask the doctor to have a look at you.”
“I’m sorry,” Musa said.
“It’s a little late for-”
Silver-and-gold tendrils sprouted from the floor of the bridge, wrapping around Dylan’s ankles and wrists. Like a wave rolling toward shore, they carried him to the bridge door.
“What are you doing?” Dylan shouted.
“I’m sorry,” Musa repeated. He turned to face the ship’s bow. The star field shifted up and to the right. “Now we’re going the right way.”
“Where, Musa? Where are we going?” The tendrils carried Dylan into the hall.
As the door spiraled shut, Musa answered in a detached tone. “Home.”
#
The organic strands of ship released Dylan, reabsorbing into the hull, the moment the door closed. He shot down the corridor, first to Chad’s quarters, then to Sara’s.
“What’s happening?” Sara asked. They huddled outside her door.
“Musa’s snapped. He’s hijacked the ship.”
“What?” Sara asked. “How? Why?”
“He kept talking about how the Demons invading Earth are the good guys, then he said we’re heading in the wrong direction. He turned us maybe ninety degrees port and down, as best I could tell. Sara, he claimed we’re heading home now.”
“Home?” Sara asked. “Earth's not in that direction, is it?”
“Not even close,” Dylan said.
“His idea of home isn’t Earth.”
“The first step,” Chad said, “is to regain control of the ship. I don’t have any connection to it from here. It’s almost like he took one from my playbook and removed the fMRI sensors.”
“So, we have to get to the bridge?” Dylan asked.
“I’d say so, yes,” Chad said.
“Do we wake the others?” Dylan asked.
“Let’s keep this quiet for a moment,” Sara said. “We don’t know the Collectors well. There’s no telling how they’d react to a mutiny. We might lose their support, and Earth can’t afford that.”
“Can we reason with him?” Chad asked.
Dylan shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“We’ve got to try,” Sara said.
The door to Jake’s quarters opened further down the hall. “What’s going on out here?” he asked.
“Musa’s gone rogue,” Chad said. “He’s taken control of the ship.”
“He’s done what? What are we doing about it?”
“We'll talk some sense into him,” Dylan said. “Stay in your quarters.”
“Not going to happen,” Jake said. “Wait a moment.”
Dylan didn’t wait. He led the others back up the snaking corridor to the sealed bridge door. “Can you open it, Chad?”
Chad closed his eyes. “Sorry, it won’t budge.”
“How about creating a new opening?” Sara asked.
“I can try.” The passage adjacent the door melted away, creating a side tunnel a meter to the left that expanded as if dug out by a giant, invisible ant. The new tunnel reached the bridge, starlight and the faint glow of instruments spilling through.
Sara, Dylan, and Chad stared at each other.
“I’ll go,” Dylan said.
“Wait.” Sara grabbed his elbow. “Chad, can you control the ship from here?”
Chad calmed is features. The ship turned a hair before snapping back on course. “The moment he knew I was trying, he overwhelmed my commands. I’m sorry.”
Dylan glanced at Sara’s hand, still restraining him. “I’ve got to try. It has to be me.”
Before Dylan could go, Jake bounced off the sharply-rounded passage, tumbling until his get-around could stabilize him. An assault rifle was slung across his back.
“The hell’s that for?” Dylan asked.
“If negotiations fail, we need another option,” Jake said.
“You are not shooting Musa,” Dylan said. “Are we clear?”
“I don’t want to,” Jake said. “None of us do. He’s hijacked our ship, Earth’s hope for salvation. We need a backup plan.”
Dylan turned bright red and balled his fist.
Sara let go his elbow and touched his chest. “I know he’s your friend. Our plan is to talk him down, and that doesn’t change unless we all agree it must.”
Dylan nodded.
Sara glowered at Jake.
He nodded.
Dylan gingerly pushed through the opening. “Musa? I just want to talk.”
Bars slammed up from the floor, taking on the form of an old-time Texas jail cell
, hinges, lock, and all.
“What’s this for, friend?” Dylan asked. “Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Musa said. “We’ll be there in a few hours. You’ll see. It’s for the best.”
“A few hours?” A point of light in the vast starfield, their former destination, crept glacially across the transparent dome. Its movement shouldn’t have been apparent. “How fast are we traveling now?”
A trace of satisfaction crept into the corner of Musa’s mouth. “A whole lot faster than Chad can manage.”
“Is that what this is about? You have a beef with him?”
The hint of emotion left Musa’s face. “Not at all. His intelligence and ingenuity are welcome traits.”
“I’m your friend, Musa. We’ve been friends for a long time now. Whatever’s gotten into you, let’s talk this out.”
A wan smile forced its way onto Musa’s lips. “I value our friendship. You’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“Why don’t you stop the ship while we talk it out?”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Part of me wants to, but most of me doesn’t.”
#
“What does he mean by that?” Sara whispered. She, Ji-min, Chad, and Jake huddled just behind the opening to the bridge.
Chad pulled at his chin. “He directly told us he’s conflicted. I’m not a cognitive scientist but I’ve read a little on the subject.”
“I’m sure your passing interest is worth more than half the people who work in the field,” Jake said.
Chad ignored the remark. “We sometimes feel torn about a decision. Our ability to imagine multiple future outcomes and debate their relative merits is right up there with opposable thumbs when it comes to our success as a species. There’s a popular theory that different parts of the brain envision different scenarios and an executive function weighs them, eventually picking the best option.”
“So?” Sara asked. “How does that help us?”
“When did he start acting strange?” Chad asked.
“I don’t know,” Sara said. “At dinner, for sure.”
Another voice, Ji-min’s voice, said from around the corner, “It was after we visited the museum on the Collector’s moon.”
“Is the whole damn ship awake?” Sara asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ji-min said. “I didn’t notice anyone else." She glanced back down the corridor then at Sara. "I noticed a subtle shift in Musa’s aura after we visited the Egyptian section of the museum. I didn’t know what to make of it. It didn’t seem important. I figured the event triggered latent memories.”
“So… what does that all mean?” Sara asked.
“There’s one possibility,” Chad said. “Ji-min, could you look at his aura now?”
Ji-min pulled herself along the passage, bouncing off and clumsily using her get-around to thrust back to the wall. She peered around the corner. She gasped.
“What?” Chad whispered. He grabbed her ankle, pulsed his own belt jets, and brought her back. “What did you see?”
“That inkling of an aura is now a murky blackness obscuring all else that is him.” Ji-min shivered. “It reminds me of a depraved man I encountered long ago.”
Eyes wide, Sara asked Chad, “What does this mean? What’s happened to Musa?”
“I’m not sure, but I have a theory. I suspect something infected Musa’s mind at the museum and it’s making powerful suggestions that his brain can’t help but see as logical.”
“Something’s controlling him?”
“I don’t think it’s quite controlling him, not like a remote control. I think it’s incredibly hard to resist because it doesn’t seem like he should resist. Whatever it’s suggesting to him feels perfectly reasonable.”
#
“What do you mean, most of you doesn’t want to stop?” Dylan asked.
“I’m sorry,” Musa said. “I know it’s important to you. I know it’s hard for you not to get your way.”
“We’re all friends here. We all want the same thing.”
“All friends? Why is Jake hiding around the corner with a rifle? He wouldn’t be thinking of shooting a friend, would he?” Musa held out an arm, fingers spread apart. Jake, Sara, Chad, and Ji-min flew through the small bridge opening and crashed into Dylan, limbs spread at all angles against the nineteenth-century jail cell bars.
Jake pulled himself into a ball, pulsed his microjets to pivot at Musa, and leveled the assault rifle at him.
Musa flicked his wrist and the rifle flew from Jake’s hands, smashing against the bridge dome. “See? We’re not all friends. You want to kill what you don’t understand.” He extended his arm again and Jake slammed against the bars. “Did you want to kill me, Jake?” Musa drifted forward like a spirit on the wind and laid his fingertips on Jake’s forehead. “Oh, Jake. You’ve been a naughty boy.”
Musa turned to Sara and pinched his ear, eyes averted. “I’m sorry, Sara. It felt odd before, but I can see it all now. Jake used you to get information. He doesn’t love you.”
“What are-” Sara said.
“He used a simulation to study your emotions. Simu-Sara. A simulacrum, an artificial echo.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jake asked.
“You can’t hide your thoughts from me,” Musa said, fingers still anchored to Jake’s skull. “I can see the boat ride on the bay, the visit to the wildlife sanctuary. How Sara clung to you on the flight back from that first date, her affections leaving you numb. You even wore a cinnamon scent to remind her of the warmth and security that her deceased father represents.”
“Musa,” Sara said. “I’m your friend. Dylan’s your friend. Please. Stop the ship.”
The jail bars flattened out and grew together.
“I’m sorry, Sara. I can’t do that.”
The bars transformed into a solid wall, isolating the bridge again.
“Shit,” Dylan said. “Shit.”
Jake was pale and clammy. “Sara, he’s just trying to divide us.”
She reached out with her left hand and grabbed his shoulder, then glanced at Ji-min.
Ji-min lowered her eyes and shook her head.
Sara balled both fists, whipped her left arm back and her right fist forward. Her knuckles smashed into Jake’s nose, a crack reverberating down the corridor. Globs of blood floated away from his face, splatting against the wall and fanning out as a spray of tiny droplets. She brought her left hand up again, clasped her fingers behind his head and yanked his face onto her knee.
His agonizing scream filled the Quadriga.
“Sara! Stop,” Dylan said. He grabbed her by the elbows.
She twisted from his grasp and jabbed a finger at Jake. “You’re lucky I don’t have you thrown into space.”
#
Jake’s pitiful screams woke the rest of the ship. Dr. Skye arrived first with the Collectors on her heels. “What happened here?” she asked. She pointed a flashlight built into a slender ring at Jake. “What happened to you?”
“Never mind him,” Sara said. “Something seized control of Musa’s mind.”
“Strongly influenced,” Chad said.
“OK, strongly influenced. However you slice it, we’re no longer in control of the ship.”
“Where are we headed?” Krea asked.
“Most likely, Musa’s taking us to the Demons who are invading Earth,” Dylan said. “I’m sorry we dragged you into this. I truly am.”
“What if we incapacitate him?” Dr. Skye asked.
“Jake was hiding around the corner with a rifle,” Dylan said. “Musa knew it and neutralized him with no effort.”
“What if we deploy something from further away?” Dr. Skye asked.
“A gas,” Krea said.
Dr. Skye looked at her.
“We use something like that when we need to maintain the museum habitats. It’s easy to synthesize and there aren’t any side-effects in humans if you use it for an hour or two.”
“How long to make a batch?” Sara asked.
“There’s an issue,” Krea said. “Mr. Jones owns the formula.”
Sara fixed Mr. Jones with a determined stare. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”
“What do you have to trade?” Mr. Jones asked.
“Trade? Are you kidding me? We’re in the same boat.”
“One more star system visit,” he said.
Sara gaped in disbelief. “Done. We’ll need to keep Musa knocked out for weeks. How can we do that?”
“The medbot has an injectable for that,” Dr. Skye said. “It’s intended to keep the wounded in an artificial coma.”
Sara nodded. “Be quick.”
#
“What’s taking them so long?” Sara asked.
“Musa said we’d be… wherever he’s taking us… in a few hours,” Dylan said. “That was over an hour ago.”
“When did they last check in? Twenty minutes ago?”
Dylan said over coms, “Sydney, what’s keeping you two?”
The only reply was static.
“I’ll go,” Chad said. He shoved down the corridor toward Dr. Skye’s quarters. Her door stood open. “What the hell?”
Dr. Skye and Krea were bound to the wall by thousands of hair-thin strands as if held in the golden cocoon of some alien spider. Muffled cries came from within the bundles.
Chad centered his focus and willed the organic traps to unwind. Whatever sentience formed them was now absent. They unspooled effortlessly.
Dr. Skye gasped for breath.
Krea was motionless.
Chad jetted to her and placed the back of his hand over her nose. “She’s breathing.”
Krea snorted and shook like a wet dog on a winter morning.
“That’s different,” Chad said. “Her eyes are open. I guess she’s OK.”
“I’m fine,” Krea said. “Sydney, the gas.”
Sydney pulled herself to the molecular synthesizer. “It’s here. The cylinder’s full.”
“Is it the right stuff?” Chad asked. “I mean, if Musa’s aware of what you were doing and incapacitated you, he might well have reprogrammed the machine.”
“Do we have time to test it?” Dr. Skye asked.
“Maybe not. Musa didn’t give an exact countdown, but it sounded like we’re short on time.”
“Did you invent another option while we were down here?” Dr. Skye asked.
The Gods We Seek Page 27