by Ward Wagher
“The journey always begins with that first step,” Shuurely said.
“Will you shut up?” Edgar shouted at the Woogie.
Shuurely replied with a long, flatulent raspberry.
“That was not your vocoder, was it?” Sally asked as the warm aroma of butterscotch filled the room.
Edgar shook his head and stepped over to the center of the wall. “I suggest we begin with the events themselves. Once we adequately describe them, we can work backward from there.”
Shuurely thrummed over next to Edgar and used a tentacle to delicately inscribe an equation on the board. The being then stepped back to let Edgar view the inscription.
Edgar folded his arms and cocked his head as he considered the calculation.
“Wait a minute,” Sally said as she got out of her chair.
She stepped over to the wall and began writing with a stylus. Another equation appeared below Shuurely’s. “But what about this?”
“Huh-uh,” Edgar said. He used his palm to erase part of what Sally wrote, and sketched in another.
“No, no, no, humans,” Shuurely said. “You forget the tangetical effects.”
“Tangentical?” Edgar asked.
“Something wrong with the human’s hearing? Like this.” And the Woogie drew another equation.
After four hours of spirited debate, hard thought, and lots of writing, they had the display wall half filled with equations.
“You know,” Edgar said as he stepped back, “this is starting to make sense.”
“Of course, it does,” Shuurely said. “The Woogie not stupid.”
“I need a cup of coffee, and to take care of some other things,” Sally said. “Then I need to sit down. I am not used to standing this long.”
She turned and walked quickly out of the room.
The Woogie turned to watch her leave. It spun back to Edgar. “Where she go?”
The other scientist grinned. “In our society, it is impolite to mention the fresher, but I am sure that is where she went. In fact, I probably should take a little break myself.”
The Woogie spun slowly on its axis as its large blue eye followed Edgar as he resolutely marched out of the lab. It then spun back around to contemplate the equations on the wall.
“Humans strange creatures.”
§ § §
Cleo Malthusian sat at his breakfast and gazed out the panoramic windows of his one-hundredth floor kitchen and took in the Chicago cityscape. He had grown to love the towering alpine heights of the city in the twenty years since he had emigrated from the Carolina Free State. While he appreciated his birth nation, the low-slung dinginess of Columbia reflected an insular, provincial culture which remained an oppressive memory. The past ten years of employment as the paladin’s private secretary was the fulfillment of a life’s dreams.
His career ensured entrance into Chicago society for him and his wife Marla, as well as allowed him to amass the beginnings of real wealth – all achieved through honest investment, of course. He was an accredited diplomat now, and during his rare visits home, he was accorded a status in that stratified society based upon his position in the Palatinate. This washed across to his family and they now lionized him for improving their standing in the Free State.
This morning as he sipped his morning coffee he reflected upon his life and what his boss would have called the fly in the ointment. The paladin had an enormous cache of these quaint euphemisms that unerringly went to the heart of the problem. And that problem was the paladin himself. The man had been an enormously successful ruler for over forty years. He had the ability to make wise decisions and consistently advanced the influence of the palatinate across the stars. He ruled with a light hand, yet had an uncanny knack for identifying threats to the nation and to his family. His long string of successes had taught competitors to deal honestly and enemies to steer clear.
Cleo’s concern was that the paladin had made an uncharacteristic bad decision when he allowed a small group of scientists to tinker with the fabric of the universe at the Urbana Quantum Physics Laboratory. He had then compounded the poor judgment by directing that same group of incompetents to fix the results of their idiocy. The terrifying moments of the past month where the whole structure of creation seemed to be at the point of unraveling had completely unnerved him. It was bad enough for the people of the planet, who had no idea what was going on, but worse for him because he did know.
According to the report to the paladin that crossed his desk, the same group of scientists in a parallel universe had succeeded in completely destroying their entire universe, killing billions of people in the process. Now the same thing was getting ready to happen here, and Cleo was beyond fear.
After some internal debate, he had broken confidence with the paladin and consulted with his closest friend and advisor. And Marla was as rightfully terrified as he. They had spent several long, sleepless nights in conversation about what they could do if anything.
The diminutive, raven-haired woman marched into the kitchen, clearly on a mission. Cleo slipped off his chair and dropped to the floor. They had recently purchased the furnished apartment and there had been no time to replace the furniture with something more tailored to his five-foot and her four-foot-eight height.
He walked over to give her a morning kiss and a long hug. “As always, it is good to see you in the morning, light of my life,” he said.
She gave him a searching look as she looked up at him. “My poor Cleo. The times have grown so dangerous.”
He turned and walked over to the windows and studied the skyline. “You know, Kitten, it is hard to believe this could all just dissolve.”
“This world, this universe has a big problem,” she said, “and it does not know it.”
“And it is tearing me apart,” he replied.
“And however good and kind the paladin has been, I think we are going to have to act to get some help before he destroys all of us.”
Cleo nodded slowly and he turned back to face his wife. “I am going to have to agree with you, My Dear. What do you have in mind?”
“My uncle Jarvis is a quantum physicist in the Free State, as you know. I thought maybe we could quietly speak with him. He is a good man and I think could help.”
Cleo turned and faced the windows again as he rubbed his chin. “I really love this place,” he mused. “The paladin told me one time that it sometimes took tough decisions to protect the things you love. And most of all, I want to protect you.”
“Should I call Uncle Jarvis?” she asked.
“Why not. If we wait until I go back to the office, I will change my mind.”
She picked up her hand comm unit and tapped a couple of buttons. “My comm is not working.”
He pulled his from his pocket and looked at it. “Strange. Mine is not connected to the global net.”
He walked over to the kitchen counter where his comp term lay. He tapped the corner to wake it up. The three-dimensional screen appeared and showed a miniature dish antenna spinning. Beeping sounds came from the machine.
“My comp term cannot find the global net, either. What is going on?”
“Cleo, I am afraid,” Marla said.
A soft chime signaled a visitor at the door. Cleo stepped to the wall and tapped a small screen to see who was outside.
“It is David Simpson.”
“What would the paladin's security director be doing here this early?”
“I do not know, but maybe he can figure out what is happening with the network.”
The couple walked to the door and signaled it to open. A sad looking Simpson walked in the door and allowed it to slide shut behind him.
“Cleo, Marla, I am so sorry,” Simpson said.
“What are you talking about?” Cleo asked.
“It is bad enough for you to have broken confidence with the paladin,” he said. “But, to actually contemplate and begin an act of treason.”
“Wait,” Cleo said, “this is a serious situation.”
“Yes, it is,” Simpson said.
He slid a pistol from his jacket and shot Cleo and Marla with a sleepy darts. A few moments later the surprised couple collapsed on the floor of their expensive Chicago apartment.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“All right, David, talk to me,” the paladin commanded.
“Cleo and Marla spent most of the past two days discussing the situation and worrying themselves to death. They finally decided to call Marla’s Uncle Jarvis, who is a quantum physicist.”
“I’m worrying myself to death,” the paladin said.
The paladin's wife sat on the edge of a credenza along the wall of the paladin's office with her arms folded. Deep circles ringed her eyes and her normally well-groomed hair seemed lifeless. She took a deep breath and then spoke.
“You stopped things at that point, I assume.”
Simpson nodded. “Yes, Kimberly. Our mutual friend has been monitoring them. He cut their connections to the global net when it was clear they were making the call.”
“And then what?” the paladin asked.
“I used sleepy darts to incapacitate them. I wasn’t sure...”
“And you have them on ice, right?” the paladin asked.
“Scott,” his wife warned.
“You have them locked up?”
“Yes,” Simpson said. “And my security people are understandably curious.”
“If the news gets out, I don’t even want to think about the panic it would create.”
“And probably halt any chance we may have at fixing it,” she said.
The paladin took a deep breath. “And meanwhile we have to decide what to do with our two friends.”
“I almost wish I had just disappeared them right from the apartment,” Simpson said, “and then said nothing about it.”
“I wish you would have,” the paladin said.
“Scott!” Kimberly said sharply.
“No, listen. David, I gave you instructions to keep an eye on them and take whatever action was indicated. I neither expected nor desired for you to come to me for a decision. This has complicated things.”
“Scott, how can you say things like that?” Kimberly said. “These people have been faithful employees for two decades. They are terrified, just as we all are.”
“And they have betrayed us, for whatever the reason,” the paladin spoke softly. “Stay with me on this, Kimberly. If this thing gets loose, their lives will be like spit on a griddle compared to the deaths we’ll see. And if we have a mob with pitchforks and torches show up at the lab in Urbana, we can probably kiss the whole universe goodbye.”
She walked part way across the room. “So, you are suggesting that David should have just murdered them? How are you any better than a common thug?”
“My first and foremost priority is to protect the Palatinate! Following that, we have inadvertently given ourselves responsibility for the entire universe. We absolutely cannot let anything risk the current mission, and David knows that. Things just got orders of magnitude more difficult.”
“I am sorry, Paladin,” Simpson said. “I knew at the time what needed to be done and I could not make myself do it. You needed deniability and I failed you.”
The paladin got out of his chair and paced the room. After a minute or so he walked back and collapsed in his chair.
“Ah, forget about it, David. Nobody’s ever been in a situation like this. When it comes right down to it, I don’t think I could have pulled the trigger either. We gotta think of something.”
“It is nice to see my husband thinking rationally, again,” Kimberly said.
“Give it a rest!” he said to her. “Are you going to contribute to the meeting or are you going to keep rolling grenades out on to the floor?”
“Perhaps I should return later,” Simpson said.
“Stay where you are, David,” the paladin said sharply. He turned to his wife.
“Kimberly, I need you in here. We are in uncharted territory and I need your judgment. But you’ve got to stop launching on these things you can’t do anything about.”
She slid a hip on to the credenza and folded her arms again, but said nothing.
He glared at her a few moments, then visibly relaxed. He looked back a very contrite Simpson.
“Where’s Kingdom’s Advance?”
“Rusty has it out at Luna,” Simpson said. “What do you have in mind?”
“Is it smart enough to hide out in the asteroid belt or something if we put the Malthusians aboard with about a years’ worth of supplies?”
Simpson shook his head. “I do not think so, Scott. It has a Class 4 Cyber-int. It can handle the routine navigation and station-keeping. But it would not be smart enough if they tried to convince it they were in danger and needed to yell for help.”
“And if we get another event they would certainly be in danger,” Kimberly commented.
“Okay,” the paladin said, “we’ll have to put a crew aboard.”
“Is Kingdom’s Advance big enough for what we need?” Simpson asked.
The paladin snorted. “You do ask the difficult questions, David. And the answer is probably not.”
“The Vanderbilt is ready to go,” Simpson said, suddenly.
“Yes, it is,” the paladin said. “I had forgotten about that.”
During a sojourn on what was now known as Baughman’s World, Scott Baughman, his father and a third abductee had briefly flown and then crashed the M.V. Vanderbilt. During one of the subsequent expeditions to the planet by TimeOut Enterprises, the paladin’s father had directed rudimentary repairs to the starship and had it returned to Earth for a general refurbishing. It had languished in the St. Louis yards for years before the paladin had gotten around to rebuilding it. It had recently been completed.
“David, can you put together a crew that won’t let the Malthusians talk them into doing something stupid, and won’t themselves talk afterward?”
Simpson thought for a while then looked up at the paladin. “Clevis Oates.”
The paladin stared at the wall, cocked his head slightly, and then looked at Simpson. “I think I like it.”
“I, for one, do not trust the man,” Kimberly said.
“How long has he worked for us, David?” the paladin asked.
“Thirty years, approximately.”
The paladin looked at his wife. “I believe he has amply proven his reliability, even if you don’t like him. He does know how to keep his mouth shut.”
“He has done any number of quiet missions for us,” Simpson said.
“Right,” the paladin said. “You’d better have him come see me. He is in system, isn’t he?”
“He is working with me on an on-going project to monitor the activities of the Governor-General of the Carolina Free State.”
“He is obviously much more tolerant than I. I have never been able to be around hogs.”
“Scott,” Kimberly warned.
“So, can we afford to leave Mr. O’Bleck to his devices for a few months?”
“I believe we might,” Simpson said. “I will, of course, monitor the situation.”
“Very good, David. I probably should talk to Clevis. You can go ahead and start selecting a crew.”
“Very well, Scott. I can do that. And, once again, I’m sorry for not doing my job.”
The paladin waved his hand. “Forget about it, David. You make fewer mistakes than I do. I’ll give you a pass this time.”
“You will give him a pass?” Kimberly shouted. “What is the matter with you? David is the most reliable employee we have, plus he is our friend.”
Scott Baughman of the North Central Palatinate just grinned at his security director.
§ § §
The characteristic pop announcing the arrival of a ruBrack interrupted the thought processes of the humans and Woogie in the lab. Sally turned around with the beginnings of a smile to welcome Quintan back. Tasker had arrived and was by herself.
Sally shook h
er head, still with the small smile. “I’m sorry, I was expecting Quintan back. But we are glad to see you, Mrs. Tasker.”
The ruBrack marched across the room where the other three worked. “We have a problem,” she announced.
“We have a lot of problems,” Edgar said. “They seem to collect more quickly than we can dispose of them.”
“Precisely,” said Tasker. “Wallace and Quintan exited the parallel universe immediately after the most recent Forsenn Event. We have lost track of them.”
“Can you explain that?” Sally asked, the fear evident in her voice. “How can you lose track of them? I thought this is what you do.”
“We do not know. At any given moment, a ruBrack can locate any other ruBrack across any universe we have explored. We would have known if Wallace died. She did not.”
“So, what happened?” Sally asked. She stepped backward and sat down heavily in her chair. You cannot simply lose people like this. You cannot lose my Quintan. I need him!”
“Quintan was entrusted to us for a safe journey. That was our task. We will do whatever is necessary to ensure his safe return.”
Tasker walked over to where Sally sat. She cupped Sally’s face in her hand. “We are so sorry to have caused anguish. That is not our task.”
Edgar had spun around in his chair to watch the ruBrack. He looked perplexed.
“Why do you call it a Forsenn Event?”
Tasker turned to him with a look of surprise. “Because that is what it is. The events you initiated with your experiment unleashed a series of events across the multiple universes. Since it was your actions, we have named the reactions after you.”
“Oh, thank you very much,” he said sourly as he turned back around.
“But what are we going to do about Quintan?” Sally asked again. “Is he trapped somewhere between universes? Does he even know what is happening?”
“I suspect he has landed somewhere, Sally,” Tasker said. “We will do our best to locate him. We will likely need your help.”
“But, did you ask God where he was?”
“I have approached the Maker about it. He answers in His time. Have you spoken to the Maker about it?”
