by Ward Wagher
Simpson stepped back out of the cockpit and pushed the buttons to close the passenger door on the shuttle. He carefully checked the indicator lights on the door, then disappeared back in the cockpit. A minute later came the sound of the APUs powering up. What a whoosh the warm era began coming out of the vents in the floor. Plover busied himself by setting his passengers in the seats and putting restraining bands on them.
Simpson reappeared in the cabin. “You probably should strap in yourself. Our launch window is in five minutes. I requested the most direct routing to the Vanderbilt.”
Plover climbed to his feet carefully. “I think I hurt myself carrying the fat boy, Boss.”
“You have to lift with your knees, not your back,” Simpson intoned.
“I was talking to your da at the paladin’s Christmas party,” Plover said. “He commented that when you were young you seemed to control your mouth better.”
Simpson laughed. “I have worked for the Paladin for forty years, Danny. Does that tell you something?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Quintan opened his eyes to a bright cloudless morning. Despite the crisp air he felt very comfortable, even warm in his grassy nest. While it had rained heavily during the night, the area around the campfire and his makeshift bed were dry. In fact, from what he could tell when he stood up the area was almost a perfect circle. He considered the peculiar talents the ruBrack had demonstrated over the past twenty-four hours and was thoughtful. His immediate needs diverted his thoughts, and he retreated to just inside the woods to take care of his needs.
As he squatted he surveyed the area and tried to determine what was different. At this time of the year, particularly in his home universe, the early frosts would have killed the insect life. But it seemed the morning birdsong was missing as well. He had commented to Mrs. Wallace the previous evening about not seeing animal life, and he decided this was peculiar. After completing his business, and deciding he was cold, he returned to the campfire. It seemed to blaze as strongly as it did the previous evening he saw Mrs. Wallace climbing up the embankment from the creek once again carrying a handful of cattails.
“Here you be, Mr. Rogers. If you want to roast these over the fire, I’m sure it will give you a very satisfactory breakfast.”
Once again he eased down in front of the fire and held the cylindrical cattail tubes in to be roasted. He was shocked that a couple of them tasted just like sausage, and the others like eggs, although upon further consideration he was not really surprised.
“Thank you, Mrs. Wallace. That was wonderful.”
“You are very welcome. I would suggest we spent some time this morning pondering our situation and considering possible solutions.”
Quintan tipped his head slightly to acknowledge her comment. He gazed into the distance, and then his eyes fell upon the suitcase which they had dragged across the prairie during the previous afternoon.
He jumped. “I am a fool!”
He quickly climbed to his feet and walked around the fire to where the suitcase remained standing on its side. He tipped it down on its bottom and snapped the catches to open the lid.
“We should be studying the underlying harmonics of this universe since we are stuck here anyway. I do not know if we will learn anything or not, but it certainly will not hurt.”
The ruBrack displayed a sheepish expression. “Perhaps I will not blame you for your oversight, Mr. Rogers. After all, I should have thought of that myself.”
Quintan quickly started up the apparatus and studied the waveforms on the small three-dimensional display projecting out of the suitcase. He frowned and made some adjustments to the equipment.
“This is strange,” he said. “The waveform matches nothing we have seen previously.”
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Wallace asked.
“Look, I have overlaid the waveform that we recorded with Mrs. Marsden’s help.”
“There is no similarity at all,” the ruBrack said.
“Exactly. This most closely resembles the waveforms and we studied before Edgar kicked off his initial experiment. I think we could call this a universe at rest. What I do not understand is how that could be, since the waveforms that Edgar generated cut across all of the interstitial spaces.”
“So, this is a significant discovery.”
“Oh, I think you could say that. This, in fact, gives us a baseline to run against what Edgar is recording, and it may give us an angle to generate a counterforce to settle things down.”
“And how would you propose to do that?” She asked.
“At this time, I do not know. But we must start somewhere.”
“Indeed. I suppose it is a good idea to get down to work,” she said.
“Is there anything we particularly need to be doing this morning?” He asked.
“If we’re going to be trapped here for any length of time, we will need to find some kind of permanent shelter. Preparing food for you requires no great effort, however, I would not survive the winter trying to keep both of us warm.”
“Let us do this, then,” he said. “Perhaps you could do some exploring in the immediate vicinity this morning, while I work here. What we see in the apparatus has got me thinking. I would like to take advantage of that.”
“Very well then, Mr. Rogers,” the ruBrack said. “I will plan to return by lunchtime.”
She waited briefly for him to respond in agreement, and then saw that he was already absorbed in his study. She moved off away from the campsite until she was out of Quintan’s sight. She was glad that she was dressed in slacks and tunic, similar to the women of Quintan’s universe. There had been no time to change before returning to that German world to retrieve the scientist. She began moving in bounding strides that allowed her to cover ground as quickly as a deer. She was able to keep the pace up for hours without tiring, and her path spiraled out from the location of the campsite.
Startled, Quintan looked up to see the ruBrack standing before him. He looked around quickly and wondered how the sun had so quickly rose above him. He glanced down at the display to check the clock, and so let over four and one-half hours had passed.
“You startled me, Mrs. Wallace.”
“You were deep in concentration,” she replied. “I apologize for surprising you.”
He waved a hand. “Not a problem. I have accomplished a fair amount of work this morning.”
“Have you solved any problems?”
“No. But the underlying rhythms of the interstitial space are illuminating.”
“What do you mean?” She asked.
“Let me turn the question around,” Quintan said. “Have the ruBrack’s formulated a framework for the physical laws that govern the universes they interact with?”
“Not as you have described it. The ability to transport ourselves between different parallel universes is something intrinsic to the ruBrack species. Because that ability has always been there, we simply have not thought much about it. In fact, when the need has arisen we have liberally borrowed from the best of the human physicists. Humans are uncanny in their ability to get to the nub of a problem, and generate possible solutions.”
“Are you saying, then, that the ruBrack’s are depending more upon the humans to solve these problems than they are upon themselves?” He asked.
“That is exactly correct.”
Quintan looked down at the display and pondered what he had just been told. He had summarized the collected data from the apparatus and displayed it on a plot. What he was seeing made sense, but only if he was willing to accept yet another change in his worldview. And his worldview had suffered continual violence over the previous several months.
He pondered some more, then shrugged. “Since it is just the two of us here, I suppose I can suggest a theory, and only the two of us would laugh at me.”
“And I believe you seriously underrate yourself, Mr. Rogers,” Mrs. Wallace said. “Please understand, we have studied you over numerous parallel universes. You
do not have the flashes of instinctive brilliance exhibited by your wife. Or, by Edgar Forsenn, for that matter. Your strength is that you quietly weigh all of the observations and fit them into a framework which is largely correct when you are finished. To be honest, we are suspicious of Mrs. Rogers, and Edgar Forsenn. We are unable to understand how they generate these very creative ideas, given a paucity of observational data.”
Quintan folded his arms and wished he had a chair to lean back in. He looked up at the ruBrack and smiled.
“We humans call that intuition. Many writers have called it a creative spark. Others call it serendipity. But, it is very much a characteristic of the human creative process. No one really knows how it works. Most simply assume the unconscious mind is constantly processing in the background and fires these conclusions to the conscious mind like a lightning bolt.”
“That is it precisely, Mr. Rogers. We can always follow your reasoning, even if we do not totally understand it. This creative spark, as you call it, makes us very uncomfortable. Now, what is it that you have discovered through your morning’s labors?”
“Let me advance a theory,” he said. “I have learned not to fall in love with my conclusions because I have been dis-proven so often, but, this one hangs together at least to the limits of my knowledge. Now, follow my reasoning. Through the work of Edgar Forsenn, as well as my wife, we have completely redefined the concept of time. We have discovered multiple universes, each with their own timeline, moving more or less in parallel. They all moved together more or less with events in harmony, however, we have learned we are going to completely overhaul our concept of simultaneity.”
“I believe your understanding is nearly the same as our understanding,” the ruBrack said.
“Right. But here is where it gets a bit frightening. I believe we have all been guilty of what I would call — for the sake of argument, anyway — two-dimensional thinking. I am going to define a term which describes this gaggle of universes, more or less in parallel. We can call it a multi-verse. Based on conversations with the ruBrack’s we have assumed that the multi-verse represents the sum total of creation. Do we understand you correctly?”
“I believe you have summarized the cosmology correctly. The maker chose to glorify himself by creating hundreds, or even thousands of parallel universes and interacts with them. Just as your scientists have been unable to determine the full extent of a universe containing millions of galaxies, we have had the same limitations in our view of the multi-verse.”
“And I think you have gotten it wrong!” Quintan said flatly.
“What? What are you talking about?”
Mrs. Wallace stepped up closer to the human and assumed a more threatening posture.”
Quintan chuckled.
“I failed to see the humor in your statements, Mr. Rogers,” Mrs. Wallace said.
“Am I correct in my observation that among your many other talents, the ruBrack’s have the ability to instill fear or intimidation in the human mind?”
“I fail to see how that is any of your business.”
Quintan grinned. “And you do it so well.”
“You would be wise to come to the point, human,” she said through clenched teeth.
“And, let me guess. You are wondering why you have not affected me like you normally do other humans. Actually, you have. Right now, I am terrified.”
Mrs. Wallace glared at him for fifteen or twenty seconds. Then she subsided. “Very well, Mr. Rogers. You have made your point. Would it be possible, now, to explore your new theory?”
“Very well,” he said. “Suppose, for the sake of argument, that we are not simply dealing with a multi-verse, but rather we are dealing with a parallel multi-verse. Or, perhaps, to be consistent I wonder if we are dealing with multiple parallel multi-verses.”
Mrs. Wallace turned pale. She stared at Quintan as though he were an apparition. She folded her arms across her ample chest and shivered. Then she looked up at the sky and swung her head around this if she was examining their current world for the first time. Quintan noticed that she was breathing rapidly, almost panting. He guessed he was looking at incipient panic. That frightened him. While she had no more idea than he did of their current location, he was counting on her to use her talents to recover the situation for them.
“Stay with me, Mrs. Wallace.”
She visibly shook herself and looked at Quintan again. “You may force us to reconsider our assumptions about you, Mr. Rogers. I do not see how you were able to draw these conclusions.”
“The data which we collected from the apparatus got me thinking,” he said. “It’s built up a dataset of background… let’s call it harmonies, which follow entirely different patterns than anything we have seen before. I began asking myself what set of circumstances would allow something like this. The equipment also measured some subtle differences in the physical laws of this universe.”
“What do you mean?” She asked.
“I am seeing some evidence that the speed of light in this universe is a different value than what we have seen in every observed universe. Now, admittedly our observational data is a little thin. But, I can see by the look on your face you understand what I am saying. And, working backward from the fact that we are here, we don’t know where here is, and you are out of contact with your kind. I started putting all of those things together, and this is my conclusion.”
“I may be forced to consider what you’re saying, Mr. Rogers. Some things I have observed this morning are discomfiting as well.”
“What did you see,” he asked.
It was more what I did not see,” she said. “I believe this to be a sterile universe. There is no animal or insect life here.”
“I do not understand how that could be,” Quintan said. “The insects are necessary for pollination, and for aiding in the decay of plant matter.”
“This is outside of my expertise,” the ruBrack said, “but, it appears that the plant life is not complete on this world.”
“In one sense, that eases my worries,” he said. “We will not encounter any hostile indigenous peoples. On the other hand, it will get rather lonely after a time.”
“I cannot believe we will be stranded here for very long,” she said.
“I guess we can assume God knows we are here.”
The ruBrack nodded her head. “That is precisely correct. He has directed to the ruBrack’s to help your team solve the problem with the Forsenn events. I have to believe we will solve this one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sally had once met a Russian ballerina named Ekaterina. The thin, talented athlete had nothing in common with the elderly woman standing in the laboratory. She decided that she could be charitable and call the ruBrack Ekaterina stocky. On the other hand, she learned that the ruBracks, however they looked, were powerful beings who took their mission seriously. After her experience with Mrs. Willow, she was not even slightly tempted to take liberties with them.
Edgar had completed his instructions on the use of the equipment and was once again practicing the set up with the ruBracks. Edgar’s previous experience had eliminated his carelessness with running experiments. He forced the two ruBracks to demonstrate the use of the equipment in front of him three times, even though they had operated it exactly right the first time. The ruBracks, however, showed remarkable forbearance in the face of his fussiness.
The Tasker looked at Sally. “We should return in a few moments of your time.”
With a louder than normal pop, the two ruBracks and in the suitcase of equipment disappeared. Edgar and Shuurely looked at each other.
“The Woogie would like to know how they do that.”
Edgar rolled his tongue around in his cheek. “I think I would, too.”
§ § §
Sally thrashed about in her bed, tormented by dreams that competed with her waking hours for reality. She was married to Edgar Forsenn in her dream and somehow that did not seem right. She was wildly participatin
g in activities that her subconscious mind was telling her was vile and very wrong. And when she saw the portal open up into the parallel universe her subconscious mind was screaming for her to escape before she was caught up in the maelstrom. She snapped awake and struggled to disentangle herself from the sweat-soaked sheets.
She swung her legs around and sat up on the edge of the bed. It was though she had been suffocating, and was now struggling to catch her breath. She ran her hands through her hair, and stood up. A glass of cold tea would be very good right now, she thought to herself. She walked over to the door and opened it, to move into the great room of the house she shared with Quintan. She stopped in shock.
“Why, Mrs. Tasker. What on earth are you doing here?”
The two ruBracks looked at her, equally in shock. During the previous visit by the Tasker, Sally had not left the bedroom when she awakened. She had simply rolled over and gone back to sleep. This kind of change in a timeline was neither anticipated nor desired. In fact, it was thought impossible. Mrs. Tasker reached into the suitcase and pulled out a pistol before Sally could register surprise, she shot her with a sleepy dart.
“This was not supposed to happen,” Ekaterina said.
“Things just became immeasurably more complicated,” the Tasker said. “Come, help me get her into the bed and covered up. We must finish our collection of the information and be gone. I understand that humans will not remember the previous several hours after being shot with one of these. Let us pray that is correct.”
Without another word, Ekaterina rose to her feet and walked over to where Sally had collapsed on the floor. With a grunt, she picked up the scientist and carried her back to the bedroom. She carefully laid Sally on the bed and rearranged the covers.
“Please retrieve the dart,” the Tasker said from the doorway.
Ekaterina inhaled in surprise. She lifted the sheet and reached down to pull the dart from Sally’s stomach. She quickly retreated to the great room, pulling the bedroom door closed behind her. The two ruBracks quickly finish their observations, packed the equipment up, and returned to the laboratory.
