by J. E. Gurley
His cabin was next to the ready room, adjacent to the bridge. It was luxurious by most standards, containing a private bath and a large, comfortable bed. He saw a key lying on the bed and picked it up. A small prick in his finger told him the key was DNA coded solely to him. There was a locked cabinet in the wall. He used the key to open it. Besides an envelope containing star chart disks and a memory crystal, he found six handguns. What was Lord Hromhada expecting – mutiny? He considered his Trilock traveling companion and mentally thanked Lord Hromhada for the weapons.
He checked the ship’s computer and saw that Ulrich had already logged on. He was glad that Ulrich was making himself at home with the computer, knowing that once they reached their destination, they would have to jettison its core into space and destroy it to prevent the new life form from taking over the ship. With it would go all records pertaining to Occam’s Razor.
Jazon was relieved to learn that the Trilock ambassador had gone directly to his quarters. The less he saw of M’Kat the better. The three Dastorans Drones – Huumba, Harthim and Methurish, were still speaking to one another in conspiratorial tones. Harthim had been the second Drone at Lord Hromhada’s table at the first lunch. Methurish had been a last minute inclusion when the Mrumban Ambassador had declined his place aboard ship. The Ambassador had claimed urgent matters on his home world pertaining to the achikote, but Jazon suspected that he had considered both the Trilocks’ attempt on Jazon’s life and the hasty regeneration of the Amissa clone as tempting fate and bowed out gracefully.
Jazon was beginning to wish he had that option. He suspected Lord Hromhada didn’t intend to allow the Terrans on board to return to Earth with knowledge of Occam’s Razor or of the ultimate Dastoran goal of abandoning the Alliance. For now, they were essential to the mission, but at what point would Huumba or one of the others produce weapons and eliminate them? Lord Hromhada’s inclusion of weapons in his quarters was an attempt to mollify him, to assure him that he was in control, but he suspected there were other caches of weapons aboard ship. Perhaps Amissa was Lord Hromhada’s ultimate weapon. She could easily fry his brain or open the ship to space at any time of her choosing.
Thinking of Amissa as the source of his possible demise was becoming too morbid. He decided it was time for more cheerful thoughts. The rumbling of his stomach reminded him that he had not eaten. He wondered if the cuisine of the galley matched Occam’s Razor’s other marvels. He was pleased to find a large, automated galley fully stocked with genuine Earth coffee and Terran cuisine. One section held Dastoran dishes ready for the re-processor. There was, however, no section for the Trilock. Was the meat eater supposed to pick his bones after his usefulness had ended?
Ulrich, upon entering the galley, noticed his distress. “What’s wrong?”
“Just wondering if we were to be the Trilock ambassador’s meat.”
“The Trilock, I’ve been informed, has his own private galley and pantry. No need to fear cannibalism on this trip,” he said cheerfully.
“Oh, I don’t fear cannibalism. It’s the slaughtering part I distress over,” Jazon replied with a grin.
“He’s an ambassador,” Ulrich said as if that were sufficient reason to trust him.
“He’s a Trilock.”
“Hrumph,” Ulrich cleared his throat loudly and walked out of the galley, intent on returning to his computer. Jazon hated to anger his old friend, but Ulrich’s inane trust in the Trilock as a sentient species amazed him. True, Ulrich’s knowledge of the Trilock came mainly through books. He had never been around them, but Jazon knew them, knew their devious ways. He wouldn’t think twice about spacing the ambassador for the least reason. The alternative could be a knife in the back. He didn’t put too much trust in his Dastoran comrades either. Perhaps the Mrumban Ambassador’s reason for declining to accompany them was squeamishness on his part for the upcoming slaughter.
Jazon intended to sleep with his trusty dagger he had recovered from Lord Hromhada and a blaster. He could manage to keep his hide intact and maybe Ulrich’s too. Professor Lyton was another matter. He had confessed his true purpose to them but at what point would he be willing to release his nanite friends and destroy everything, including Occam’s Razor? As far as Jazon was concerned, everyone was out to get him except Ulrich. He wondered if this was the first sign of paranoia.
He strode quickly to the bridge and accessed the ship’s comm. “We will exit this system in one hour,” he announced. As an afterthought, he added. “If you have a god to worship, do it now.”
He eyed the ship’s neuro-link with dread. On principle, he had never liked opening his senses to a thinking machine. Now that the machine was Amissa, he was even more reluctant, but there was no quicker way to familiarize himself with the ship’s systems. He sat in the comfortable chair and slowly lowered the wired helmet to his head. He leaned back and touched the switch ….
… And found himself floating in a warm, comfortable void. He opened his eyes and found that he had a 360-degree panoramic view around the ship. By concentrating, the depth of his field of vision intensified on orders of magnitude. He was linked both to outboard cameras and to the ship’s sensor net.
“Quite breathtaking, isn’t it?” a gentle voice spoke in his mind. He found his body floating in the emptiness of space just above the ship, a soft glow coalescing beside him
“Amissa?”
The glow took form, and she floated beside him, naked. He felt a twinge of embarrassment, and suddenly she was wearing her blue jumpsuit. Amissa had felt his discomfort through their mind link.
“Yes, I am here. I will lead you through the ship’s various command links, or, if you prefer, I can control the ship myself following your preset orders.”
“All I have to do is think?”
“Yes. You may speak to my mental persona if you wish.”
“This is much different from other AI neuro-links I’ve used. It’s much more intense, more involved.” He felt the throbbing of the engines in his pulse.
“I am much different from other AIs.” He heard laughter in her voice.
“Okay, take me through the controls.”
“Hold on tight,” she teased.
Command sequences and 3-D constructs of Occam’s Razor’s internal diagrams appeared before his eyes, and vanished just as quickly. Amazingly, he remembered what he had glimpsed. He realized Amissa was downloading the information directly into his cortex. She carried him on a tour of the ship circuit-by-circuit, bolt-by-bolt. He learned more about the ship in a few minutes than the Dastoran engineers who had created it.
He soon learned why Occam’s Razor was no ordinary Skip ship. Her over-sized engines were designed for interstitial travel – bypassing normal space-time for other dimensions. In this way, normal Skips were unnecessary. Occam’s Razor simply chose the best possible route through the easiest dimension and bored a hole through it to reach her destination. There were innumerable dimensions that contained nothing – no stars, no planets, and no galaxies – dimensions where the act of creation did not or had not yet occurred. There was, therefore, nothing to collide with, allowing heretofore unheard of velocities.
Of course, nothing was that simple. With nothing to obstruct them, there was nothing to guide them. When dealing with the unknown, anything could happen. He doubted the Dastorans would have spent so much time developing Amissa if it were that simple. The trouble with the unknown was that first, it was unknown. To become familiar with it, one must explore. That was their task. They would have to explore their way to the Phyein, as Amissa had called the new life form.
In addition to powering the Interstitial Drive, the over-sized engines were capable of channeling enormous power to the weapons systems or the shields as needed, giving the small ship the power of a cruiser four times her size.
The engines could recharge within minutes instead of the hours normally needed between Skips. If they ran into danger, they had a better than normal chance of extricating themselves.
&nb
sp; Things became a little clearer through his link with Amissa. It was still almost a surface link, as if she were guiding his senses as together they touched and explored the ship’s controls, but there was some leakage, not much, but enough to understand more about her.
He could sense her confusion about him and about herself. A young girl with a woman’s mind and emotions, she felt restless and awkward with her abilities. She was eager to use them, but afraid of making a mistake because she felt would belittle herself in his eyes. He would need to increase her confidence in herself or it could present a problem in an emergency. He could start now.
“Amissa, take us out of the system at one-half speed.”
His projected body now stood on the forward hull of Occam’s Razor. The Highborn’s ship drifted a few kilometers away. He sensed some hesitation at first, but the ship began to move smoothly, shuddering only slightly beneath his feet as the engines engaged. Without the Thrallimar for reference, he wouldn’t have noticed they were in motion. Occam’s Razor was under way.
For a little bit of fun, and perhaps to piss off the Lord Hromhada, Jazon took over the controls and flew the ship in a tight spiral around the Highborn’s much larger ship, coming so close at times that he could have reached out and touched it.
“You should not have done that,” Amissa chided.
“You could have stopped me,” he reminded her.
There was no reply, but he felt her smile as a tickle in his mind.
Satisfied with his ‘thumb in the eye’ gesture to Lord Hromhada, Jazon sat back and allowed Amissa to take the ship out of the Lahhor system.
“How do these new engines work?” he asked.
“In normal Skip space, a ship uses its immense power to open a small hole, or a loop really, into another dimension and slip through it to a second point in real space, in effect bypassing the threshold limit for the speed of light. If you picture a balloon and you want to travel from point ‘A’ on one side to point ‘B’ on the other side, deflating the balloon and going through it is analogous to Skip drive.”
“With the balloon re-inflating once we’re through,” Jazon added.
“This new Dastoran Interstitial Drive allows Occam’s Razor to create a much larger hole and cross over into another dimension entirely, in effect, enter the balloon, not simply pierce it. Because of time differentials and gravitational effects, think of this balloon as spinning, or better yet as a series of balloons, one within the other, all spinning at different speeds. We find the balloon or dimension that brings us to our destination point in the fastest time and enter it. We travel there for a predetermined length of time and Skip back into real space at our destination – a single Skip in and out. The time spent in the other dimension is negligible because we can pick a time to exit as well as a place.”
Jazon’s head was doing some spinning of its own as he attempted to comprehend her explanation. The implications, as far as he could understand them, were staggering. “You mean it’s an instantaneous process.”
“Not strictly speaking, but as far as we are concerned on this journey, yes. By choosing a time to exit, as well as a place, we negate time and distance, at least to the observer. We will, of course, experience subjective time within the ship, but only a fraction of what a series of normal Skips would entail.”
“Like time travel?”
“No. We can never travel backwards in time or arrive at the same instant that we left, but very close.”
“The Dastorans have discovered the instantaneous Skip,” he said, more for his own benefit than hers. No wonder they were determined to keep it a secret. They could theoretically reach another galaxy in weeks or months. He gulped in sudden realization. Amissa noticed his pulse rate increase.
“What’s wrong, Jazon?”
“Lord Hromhada would never allow non-Dastorans to have this knowledge. He will have to dispose of us.”
“Lord Hromhada would not do such a thing.” She seemed genuinely distressed at his conclusion.
“Not you. You’re much too valuable. Me. He has no choice. If, as you say, only a human can interface with you, we are necessary for this mission. When they solve the interface problem, they will not need humans at all.”
There was only a stony silence. Jazon could tell Amissa was still there. Her mind was absorbing what he had told her. He could feel her presence as she controlled the ship, but she had removed herself from his mind. He couldn’t blame her, torn between belief and disbelief. She had served Lord Hromhada for many centuries, or at least her counterparts had.
“I have solved the problem of interface,” she announced suddenly, breaking the silence.
Her news stunned him. “How? Does Lord Hromhada know?”
“No.”
“Then don’t inform him, at least not until we return from this voyage.”
“I will do this for you, but I do not believe your interpretation of the Dastoran goals”
“If I’m wrong, no harm done. If I’m right ….”
Again, he felt the reluctance where his mind touched, even overlapped hers. Right now, it was like holding hands. Before the trip was over, it would feel like sex.
In a way, he regretted this. He could treat her in any manner he wished face to face, but with the neuro-link, his emotions would pour into her of its own volition. It was as if he was a rain cloud and she was the earth. At some point, he would reach his emotional limit and release his burden, and she, as trapped by the interface as he, couldn’t remove herself from his presence. She was a stationary target.
While they were still several hours from a safe point to initiate the new Skip, he decided to check out the remainder of the ship. He unlinked to let Amissa digest what he had said. He found Huumba and the other two Drones discussing the workings of the weapons pods.
“Captain Lightsinger,” Huumba sang, as Jazon approached. He had a condescending smirk on his face as he said ‘Captain’. “We were discussing who would control which weapons systems. Do you have a preference?”
“Yes,” Jazon snapped. “Amissa and I can handle it much more quickly than you could.”
Huumba looked stunned. “But I ….”
Jazon waved his hand impatiently. “In an emergency, you will be in command of weapons, of course, but until then, all control will be through the neuro-link. I don’t want anyone jumping the gun.”
Huumba appeared to wish to say more but merely nodded. “Yes, my Captain.”
Jazon smiled. “I know you don’t like me, Huumba, and I don’t give a damn. I’m in command because none of you is capable of commanding this ship. Don’t forget that. Without me, you’ll never return to be a Breeder.” He turned and stalked off feeling a sense of deep pleasure at his jibe at Huumba. The Protector needed to know his place. Jazon didn’t want to have to argue every order he gave. There just wasn’t time.
He found Ulrich and Lyton in the small ship’s lounge, drinking coffee and examining star charts. “Found anything we can use?” he asked hopefully.
Lyton cleared his throat. “Of course, you know we will be going into unknown territory, but we thought there might be some correlations between dimensions. If particles can slip back and forth with ease, and if these particles comprise objects in each dimension, then there must be some correlations between the two.”
Ulrich smiled at Jazon’s confused look. “If there is a massive star here, then there should be something similar there. There doesn’t have to be, of course. A particle here has many dimensions in which to bounce, perhaps several at once. Still, it’s better than going in blindly.”
“Amissa will find a way for us, won’t she?”
Lyton and Ulrich exchanged a knowing glance. Ulrich spoke. “Lyton and I fear Amissa’s early transfer could affect her ability.” He shook the map. “This is in case of emergency.”
Jazon laughed. “Oh, like, ‘In case of emergency, break glass’. Gentlemen, if something happens to Amissa, we won’t be coming home.”
Ulrich looked
down at the floor. Lyton swallowed loudly, and then said, “If God compel thee to this destiny, to die alone, with none beside thy bed ….”
“What’s that?” Jazon asked.
Lyton smiled. “Elizabeth Barrett Browning from A Thought for a Lonely Death-Bed.”
“Quite nice but I hope not appropriate. I appreciate your work and it may well help us. We are, after all, explorers. I don’t mean to belittle your efforts, but without Amissa’s guidance, none of us could get us back to normal space.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Perhaps there is another way,” Ulrich suggested.
“And what is that?” Jazon asked.
Ulrich stood and began to pace the small room, taking only three steps before turning around again. “Black holes.”
Lyton smiled. “Yes,” he exclaimed, “Why not?”
Ulrich looked at Jazon. “Black holes undoubtedly connect different dimensions. There has long been speculation on this point. They are massive, beyond the bounds of normal physics …”
“So they should have counterpoints in another dimension,” Jazon finished, realizing where Ulrich was headed.
Ulrich continued as if Jazon had not interrupted. “They may well be the only stable connection between dimensions. If this is true, we can use them as guideposts to find our way around.”
Jazon stood up and slapped Ulrich on the back. “Keep up the good work. We just might get out of this alive after all, if our luck holds.”
“As to your luck,” Lyton said. “I have noticed your propensity to fondle a certain token in your pocket.”
Jazon removed the small round token from his pocket. “My half-credit piece?”
“To what do you attribute its capacity to bring luck? Is it similar to the legend of the lucky rabbit’s foot?”
“I’ll tell you, Lyton. After the battle of the Rim, we were running out of oxygen. Our only source for replacement was from Cha’aita oxygen containers used for heating. None of our tools fit the connections. We were ready to die. Then I remembered this little metal token, just a simple half-credit piece I happened to have after a card game. It fit into the slot designed for an alien tool like a glove. If not for this,” He held it up; then slipped it back into his pocket, “I would be dead.”
