by Jean Johnson
“Yes,” Ia confirmed, nodding slowly. “I didn’t say it in this particular reality, but it is true, and I know you experienced visions from a hundred alternate realities. There’s even a universe out there where you and I are actually Salik, plotting the downfall of Alliance civilization. Several variations on that theme, in fact. Not particularly helpful in this case, but that alternative does exist, along with many others.”
“Then why don’t we just find an alternate reality where I am not the person successfully developing this gun, and just go read his thoughts?” Meyun pointed out. “Or hers? Or its? A universe with the same laws of physics, but where my thoughts can’t get in the way of my own thoughts because I’m not the one thinking them?”
She blinked. “That’s brilliant. I like it,” Ia agreed. She thought about it for a moment, then held up thumb and forefinger close together. “Just one little problem, though.”
Meyun rolled his eyes. “What now?”
She gave him a faint, pain-tinged smile. “Last time I took you onto the timeplains…it was a bad experience for you. And while searching for someone not you will make them easier to find and read, I still can’t foresee all of your future. I’m pretty sure that’s my gift protecting me from the temptation of you. I don’t know how that’ll affect this trip, and I don’t want to hurt you again.”
Stepping close, Meyun cupped her face in his hands. “The only reason why I suffered was because neither of us was prepared. The only reason why I continued to suffer was because I was forced to spend two years without even hearing from you. Of seeing you only in my dreams, and in that awards ceremony they broadcast on the military channels.”
Ia flushed. She knew she should step back, should break contact, but between the gentleness of his hands and the warmth radiating from his body, she didn’t feel threatened. For a moment, dangerous though it was, the timeplains no longer lurked in the back of her mind. No past, no future, only the now. “Meyun…”
“I won’t endanger your work,” he promised, tilting her face up a little, encouraging her to meet his gaze. “I promise that. I’ve had a lot of time to think over everything I saw and think through the reasons why you would have done those things, and why we can’t…” He broke off, breathed deep, then added wryly, “Except Bennie told me that you said if we could get the whole crew on our side, it wouldn’t be a problem. So long as we were discreet.”
Being reminded of that gave her the strength to step back. He let her go, and she immediately missed the warmth of his touch. The heating system in his quarters was working fine—he was the chief engineer, after all—but she still shivered a little, chilled by the lack of contact. Shaking her head, Ia said, “That won’t happen for a few more years. And I don’t want to put tempta—”
He stopped her with a finger on her lips and a slight smile. “Too late, and not a problem. As for the risk…well, I’m willing to take it, so long as whatever we see, you promise you won’t throw me off the ship.”
She spoke as soon as he removed his finger. “I can’t throw you off the ship. I need you to keep repairing it.”
Hands going to his hips, Meyun mock-frowned at her. “And whose fault is that, Meioa-e Who Likes To Blow It Up Repeatedly?”
“That was the Salik, not me,” she told him mock-primly. The moment of levity eased the tension. Sighing, she raked her fingers through her short white locks. “Alright. We’ll do it. I’ll take you onto the timeplains and see if we can go looking for a blue-furred rock ape who knows how to build this thing right, and why it has to be built that way. God knows I’ve cribbed notes from several far-flung alternate realities before.”
“There is no God but the Future, and Ia is His Prophet,” he quipped, startling her. He tapped the side of his head again. “Something else I remember from the timestreams. And you were right, they’re only images of things that might be, not always the things which will be…thank God.”
“Right. Speaking of seeing things that might be, we probably should sit down for this.” She nodded at the prototype. “Secure that weapon first, soldier. Lock and Web.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Unclipping a rolled bundle of tight-woven webbing from the far side of the table, he pulled the stretchy network over the gun.
Ia helped him secure the edges to clips on the underside of the desk. At a gesture from him, she retreated to the sofa across the room from his workbench. He settled next to her, rested his hands on his grey-clad thighs, and looked at her.
“So…now what?” he joked, though she could see the discomfort in his eyes. “I’m presuming you’ll want both of us dressed for this? Or are we going skinny-dipping in the timestreams?”
Giving him a flat look, she shook her head. “Wise-asteroid. Stay clothed. Avoid saying the word ‘time,’ and strive to keep your mind calm. Do not let go of me, and do not cling so close that I cannot move. Above all, keep your mind disciplined and your libido suppressed. Thoughts can become reality where we’re going, so focus on being an engineer.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” he agreed.
She studied him quickly, but her first officer seemed sincere. Offering her hand, she waited for him to touch it. When he did, she nodded, pulled them onto the timeplains, and up out of the water.
Up out of the water, and into a heavy fog. One so thick, Meyun’s features were half-obscured, and he was right there within reach. Ia usually emerged on the right-side bank, facing downstream into the future; she couldn’t be sure she had done so this time, however. The only thing she was sure of was that they were on the bank, extracted so quickly that nothing had been seen.
Down was the ground, so up into the sky she lifted them. He clung with his hand, not nearly as disoriented as Rico had been, and without the confusion and fear of their previous trip. As they rose, the mist gradually thinned and receded, until they hovered high over the timeplains, eyeing a thick, sprawling mist that occupied several squid-like valleys, life-paths directly related to the relationship the two of them couldn’t, shouldn’t have.
“So, what do we look for?” Meyun finally asked, peering at the wrinkled landscape below. “Blue-furred rock apes?”
“No. There is a lifetime where someone discovers the trick of shaping crysium, and an engineer uses the reshaped crystals to form a Feyori-inducing gun.” It was like baiting a hook, or checking off boxes on a search list. Ia itemized each thing they needed out loud. Beneath them, the landscape rippled and shifted, the mist inching ripple by ripple off somewhere to the side, behind them. “The engineer is Human, like you, and he lives in a universe with our exact same physical laws. But there are no Zida”ya coming to destroy his Milky Way Galaxy.
“He does, however, work for a half-Human, half-Feyori captain—male—who wishes to enter Feyori politics in order to get them to stop bothering his Human kin. Your not-other-self’s name is Jed Maxwell, and he has figured out how the conversion guns work, with a deep and eloquent, written level of understanding.”
“…Nice search matrix,” the real Meyun Harper muttered, watching the mist and the hills shifting beneath them. As the fog from their own reality faded into the distance, the summer golden grass was slowly replaced by darker, clumpier shades of green shrubberies.
“Thank you. I’ve been practicing.” She didn’t intensify the experience to get rid of the echoing of their speech because she didn’t want to risk his becoming so attached to a particular scenario or thought that it influenced her in turn. That would be a disastrous, downward spiral of rising emotions.
“How long have you been practicing?” he asked, brown eyes filled with curiosity.
“Since I turned fifteen, when my gift blossomed, and I started visualizing in earnest…Ah, here we go,” she said, swooping them down toward a golden-clear stream snaking its way through the greenery. “An equally talented alternate universe engineer—not you; you’re a pastry chef back on Dabin in this universe. This fellow, however, knows how to build the gun we want you to build.”
Meyun lifted
his brows. “If I’m a pastry chef, who or what are you?”
“I’m the male captain of the engineer’s ship.”
That provoked a snort. “Not sure if I could fall in love with a male. But that does make me wonder. Any chance our alternate selves actually meet in this universe?”
“None.” Her voice echoed with firmness, quelling further inquiries along that line of thought. “You are an engineer right now, nothing more. Now pay attention to the schematics and put that photographic memory of yours to good use.”
His free hand saluted her, the right one still tightly clasping her left. “Aye, aye, Captain.” He paused, then added dryly, “…You do realize that ‘cribbing notes’ from this fellow is technically intellectual property theft, right?”
“Technically, in our universe, this guy doesn’t even exist,” she reminded him. “There are no copyright-infringement laws that span the multiverse because the multiverse, by its very nature, is one giant plagiarizing copy machine, introducing infinite infinitesimal errors with each new reiteration.” Ia paused, grinned, and added, “That, and he’ll never find out, so he can’t take us to court.”
“Why, you law-breaking rebel, you,” Harper teased. Nodding at the stream, he added, “Alright, I’m ready.”
Nodding as well, she led him to the life-stream of their target.
APRIL 21, 2496 T.S.
V’DAN IMPERIAL FREEPORT TATTH-NIEL
V’DAN HOMEWORLD, V’DAN SYSTEM
Disembarking onto the station with the entire 1st Platoon, Ia stood out like a grey thumb. She was the only one in a uniform instead of civilian clothes. For this trip, Ia had donned her Dress Greys, with her grey cap perched on her neatly combed white locks, her TUPSF half glittery pinned to her chest along with the addition of her V’Dan honorifics. It was only polite to wear the latter, given they were parked at the heart of the V’Dan Empire.
Behind them, the Hellfire had cozied up to one of the station’s longer gantries. The long, lumpy needle of a ship was only slightly battered from its last starfight, a sneak attack on another Salik crèche hiding in the depths of interstitial space. That crèche had been parked disturbingly close to the V’Dan homeworld, only four light-years away. Having pointed that out to the V’Dan High Command on the hyperrelays afterward, and the fact that they had destroyed the installation, Ia had requested and received permission to bring her Company in for three days of Leave.
Because Tatth-Niel was a freeport space station, no Customs queues slowed them down, just a submission of their ident units as each person disembarked so that the V’Dan government had a registry of their entry. The only thing they had to pass after that was through a long scanner arch, which searched silently, invisibly, for transmittable illnesses and contraband, standard equipment for most stations, as well as most starship airlocks.
The crew of the Hellfire also got one last warning from their commanding officer.
Stopping at the end of the hall, just before it opened up into the bustling commerce level ringing the station, Ia turned and faced the others. They drifted to a halt, eyeing her uniformed presence warily. Despite their current off-duty status, the sight of their CO in her Dress Greys was clearly stirring up the need to respond professionally. Some of the men and women of the 1st Platoon even shifted into a modified Parade Rest, standing with their hands at their backs, their shoulders squared, and their gazes straight ahead.
Settling her hands on her hips, she addressed them. “You have twenty-four Terran Standard hours of Leave. This translates to twenty-two hours thirty-eight minutes V’Dan Standard. These locals are Human, but they are not Terran. Respect their customs, laws, and beliefs during your visit, and remember that even in civvies on official Leave, you will represent the finest of the Terran Space Force at all times.
“Be back on board, in uniform, and ready to assume your posts with five minutes to spare, if not sooner. Your brothers and sisters in the 2nd and 3rd Platoons are covering your shifts for you so that you may enjoy these full twenty-four hours of Leave. Do not let them down when it comes time to cover theirs. Dismissed,” she finished.
They started to move forward, heading for the station proper. A voice from behind Ia slowed the trickle to an awkward halt. Firm, male, and mature, the speaker addressed them with dry sarcasm. “A moving statement from a commanding officer. Hypocritical, too, when that commander has been mocking the beliefs of the very nation her crew now visits.”
“High Priest Ma’alak of the Autumn Temple,” Ia stated, turning and giving a polite bow. Not just to the speaker, a middle-aged man wearing intricately embroidered cream robes, but to his three companions as well, two soldiers and another member of the Sh’nai clergy. “Despite what you may think, you do honor me with your presence. Priestess Laka’thi of the D’aspra Archives, Grand General Ibeni-Zif of the High Command, Highlord Adjutant Sa-Nieth of the Nobles’ Council, it is a pleasure to meet each of you as well. Shall we all retire to the conference room the Grand General has reserved for us?”
They exchanged looks, apparently not expecting Ia to take the initiative from them so smoothly. The High Priest nodded slightly, and the Grand General gestured for Ia to join them, the gold trim on his red uniform sleeve gleaming in the overhead lights. As soon as she did so, more red-uniformed soldiers fell into position around them, forming an honor-guard escort. Behind Ia, her civilian-clad troops dispersed into the crowd, no doubt curious what was going to happen to their CO but trusting her to handle whatever it was.
The presence of those bright-clad imperial guards drew attention from the crowds of tourists and travelers they passed, but it was the draped folds of the priestly robes that garnered bows from dozens of the V’Dan. That made it easy to see just how many of the locals were followers of the Sh’nai faith.
Some even drifted forward, calling out for blessings from the High Priest in their native tongue. He in turn raised his hand and murmured benedictions but did not stop. The presence of their imperial escort kept the more insistent requests at bay, allowing them to move smoothly toward the vast station’s core.
It took maybe ten minutes to navigate past the outermost layers of shops and businesses to the military hub of the station. They could have held this meeting in the government’s reception hub for visiting dignitaries, or within the halls of the on-station Sh’nai temple. Instead, the conference room’s location was proof that the military was the current power in charge of the empire. Painted cream and decorated in red and gold accents, the room they were led to boasted wall screens and workstations, and a distinct lack of Lock and Web clips, a reminder that Tatth-Niel was a space station in permanent orbit around the V’Dan homeworld and not a vessel capable of being moved elsewhere in a hurry.
“Ship’s Captain Ia, would you like a cup of caf’?” Grand General Ibeni-Zif asked as they entered the room. “Meioas?”
Ia nodded, as did the priestess and the adjutant. At that, the red-uniformed junior officer waiting by the door turned to the sideboard and started fixing mugs for everyone. As the erstwhile guest at this meeting and the focus of the questions that were to come, Ia moved toward the seat at the near end of the conference table.
Like the other objects in the room, someone had selected the table to impress visitors; it had been crafted out of some stout, golden-hued wood native to V’Dan, one with a rippling grain suggestive of Zen waves in gilded sand. Ia liked it. The Sanctuarian equivalent of wood was usually more reddish or purplish in hue, making this a bright contrast to most of the colors she had known as a child and a pleasant change from the blander, more pragmatic hues seen during her two stays on Earth.
The Highlord Adjutant assisted her with her chair first. Then he held a second chair for the priest before seating the general, followed by the priestess and lastly himself. He did so without the assistance of the other aide in the room. The subtle courtesy was proof—at least in the V’Dan culture Ia had studied in her youth, living on a jointly founded colonyworld—that this meeting had been
instigated by the Sh’nai, was being hosted and supported by the military, and was being facilitated by the Nobles’ Council.
The Nobles are therefore holding themselves neutral in this inquisition, according to V’Dan protocols. He probably expects to serve as an arbiter if a dispute arises. The Grand General knows that whatever the outcome of this meeting is, it will have an impact on the war effort, and that means it’ll impact his purview. The High Priest is here to personally lead the inquisition…and the Priestess of the Archives has the means to verify or disprove my identity.
“Ship’s Captain Ia, you are here to answer allegations of promoting yourself as the long-prophesied Prophet of a Thousand Years, one of the core saints of the Sh’nai faith,” High Priest Ma’alak stated. He paused, mouth twisting a little. “Ia’nn sud-dha’a…What hubris, to take on the V’Dan word for ‘prophet’ as your one and only name.”
“It was not hubris. A simple examination of the citizen registry documents of Independent Colonyworld Sanctuary will prove it, High Priest,” Ia countered calmly. “I declared emancipation at the age of sixteen on March 4, 2488, Terran Standard, and changed my name from Iantha Quentin-Jones to the shortened version of Ia…which my family and friends had already been using to address me since I was an infant.”
“Why did you change your name, Ship’s Captain Ia?” Grand General Ibeni-Zif asked, leaning his elbows on the edge of the table and lacing his fingers together.
Ia smiled slightly. “I think this meeting is informal enough, Grand General, that you may simply call me Captain. Or Ia, since that is my name…though I can understand His Holiness’s reluctance to do so,” she added, giving the priest a polite nod. “As for why I changed my name, I knew that if I gave my younger brother the Power Lottery numbers for the drawing on February 10, 2494 Terran Standard while still retaining my full name, that it would draw attention to my relationship with him and cause near-immediate trouble for me via the Terran laws regarding profit from prognostication for precognitives. Plus it would trip over the military laws governing fraternization and the giving of loans, perhaps even dredging up accusations of bribery. None of which I wanted to do.”
