Analog Science Fiction and Fact 12/01/10

by Dell Magazines

  “Of course.”

  “So it has to look like an accident.”

  Vekredi winced, for more reasons than one. He imagined the second baby was looking at him sullenly as another companion took it away. He hoped this call would end soon so he could begin nursing. “What do you have in mind?”

  “The next time Scout Wing takes LaMacchia on a dive, assign her to the following Hub vector.” The quantelope recited a string of numbers. Vekredi called them up from his memory implant and reviewed the information.

  “But Morjepas ... that’s a dormant vector! Two consecutive scouts disappeared there. The last was only ... twelve years ago.” If the danger had persisted for the five years between scouts, it was doubtful the Hub-point had drifted away from it since then. Procedure dictated waiting at least twenty years before a third attempt.

  “Vekredi, you do understand the point of this exercise, don’t you?”

  With a sigh, Vekredi said, “Yes, Morjepas. I’ll assign Scout Wing the vector.”

  “I’m sorry about this, Mokak. Are you fond of Scout Wing?”

  Vekredi pondered the question. “Actually, no.” The thought cheered him. Having to replace a Hubdiver ship and train a new scout would be a hassle. Such losses were part of the business, but it clashed with his orderly administrative impulses to bring them on deliberately. But being spared Nashira Wing’s unruly, disrespectful manner and her constant taunts about his alleged parenthood (he sighed as the third baby finally came out—only five more to go!) would be a definite consolation.

  Humans. Nothing but trouble, the lot of them. And more of them keep infesting my nice orderly Hubstation. They breed like vermin, that’s the problem. He shuddered as the fourth baby made its way down the birth canal.

  It was a long way from Hubstation 3742 to the Shell that contained the Hub itself. The inner habitat rings were reserved for the more prominent or ancient species within the Hub Network, while junior worlds like Earth got relegated to the more remote, crowded outer rings. A Hub scout like Nashira got priority clearance, but still it took a good twenty minutes for Nashira’s Hubdiver, the Starship Entropy, to reach the Shell. David didn’t mind, since it gave him plenty of time to drink in the gorgeous view of the galaxy’s Central Bulge filling half the sky.

  The view within the Shell was almost as spectacular, a kilometers-wide spherical space filled with the elaborate tracks and launch rails that propelled ships on their finely calibrated dive vectors into the Hub itself at the center. David continued to be amazed at the precision of the Shell’s technology, necessary since the tiniest error in angle or velocity could send a ship to the wrong galaxy altogether; but he was glad he didn’t need it. His mission—well, Nashira’s mission, with him tagging along—was to deliberately take those unknown vectors that others tried to avoid. Which was so much cooler than sticking to the known routes. He just wished he could get Nashira to appreciate that. He’d switch places with her in a second—if he knew the first thing about piloting spaceships.

  “I keep telling you, there’s nothing glamorous about it,” Nashira insisted. He hadn’t said anything; she must’ve seen the look in his eyes as he watched her working the controls. “I just punch in the numbers they assign me and hope they don’t come out in the middle of a star. I dive in, I climb out, I dive in again. I’m a bloody elevator operator.”

  “Yeah, but what an elevator!” She glared, and David figured he should’ve refined that metaphor a little more.

  The voice of Nashira’s supervisor came over the radio. “Please try to stick to the assigned vectors today, Scout Wing,” Vekredi said. “I’ve received more complaints about your ... improvisations. Any more and there will be penalties.”

  “Shouldn’t you be on maternity leave, Kred?” Nashira asked. “Your office is no place for nursing babies.”

  Indeed, David could hear peeping and suckling sounds over the speaker, followed by an offended snuffling from Vekredi. “Just ... follow the assigned schedule, Scout Wing! That is an order! Out.”

  “How rude,” Rynyan said. “One should always be courteous to one’s inferiors.”

  Nashira threw him a glare, then smirked. “That explains it, then. Nobody’s got more inferiority than Kred.”

  “So you want to ditch the plan anyway?” David ventured.

  Nashira grinned at him, a refreshing change from her usual scowls. “Just to screw with him?” She thought about it. “Nah. Not worth the penalties. Almost, though.” She punched in the first vector, and the launch rail obligingly maneuvered the Entropy into position. In the viewing wall, the ships and equipment within the Shell wheeled dizzyingly, but the Hub itself, that strange, faintly glowing pucker of spacetime that David’s eyes refused to focus on no matter how hard he tried, remained a fixed, unchanging point, the fulcrum around which galaxies revolved in more ways than one.

  “Get your gizmos ready, we go in sixty,” Nashira said. She glanced over as David activated the gravity sensor. “I thought you’d given up on that.”

  “I changed my mind. I was thinking about the Hub last night, how it’s the center of mass of the Milky Way, its satellite galaxies, and its dark-matter halo.”

  Nashira sighed. “Just say ‘greater galaxy’ like everyone else.”

  “Well, I thought about how an object acts like all its matter is concentrated at the center of mass. And the Hub acts like every point in the ... the greater galaxy is concentrated in it. I think there’s got to be a link there. Something to do with mass.”

  “Congratulations,” Nashira said. “You’ve just discovered the first, most obvious theory that every civilization in history has come up with about the Hub. Only took you six weeks.”

  “Well, maybe they just gave up on it too easily.”

  “Or it’s a dead end. Everyone agrees it’s part of why the Hub exists, but it doesn’t explain the link between vectors and destinations. If it’s all clumped together, it should be random, not consistent for the same vector.” She stared at him. “How can you be determined to learn the Hub’s secrets and not know something this basic?”

  “I didn’t want to be trapped by past assumptions.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, brilliant. This way you just repeat everyone else’s failures. That’s much better.”

  “Or try something they never thought of.”

  “I’ll give you that. No genius in history has ever thought like you. Fifteen seconds.”

  David stared into the Hub, in awe of its cosmic centrality. Despite his outward confidence, Nashira’s words were sobering. How could he believe that a college dropout from the backwater of the galaxy could succeed where so many advanced civilizations had failed?

  Because there are no backwaters, he reminded himself. Every point in nine galaxies is in there—all of them one, all of them equal. The Hub is inside me. I’m inside it. So I’m as worthy as anybody to figure it out.

  “Here we go,” Nashira said. “Last chance to make your peace with the Universe.”

  David smiled at her. “I’m good.” She blinked, genuinely surprised.

  Then Rynyan ruined the mood. “No problem. The Universe and I are mutual fans.”

  Nashira sighed as the ship thrust forward into the center of all things ...

  And the alarms sounded. “Christ, we’re in a gravity well!”

  “Of what?” David cried.

  “Won’t matter unless we make orbital vee,” she said, regaining the calm of a seasoned pilot. The fusion engines fired, pressing them back in their seats. Whatever they were trying to orbit was behind them, out of sight, and Nashira was too busy to work the aft sensors. David took it upon himself to switch the view.

  “Uhh ... Nashira?”

  “In a mo.”

  “But—Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

  “All right,” Nashira said after a moment, looking up toward the display wall. “The ship can take it fro—Holy Christ on a cassowa ry!”

  The planet below them was beautiful. Its sunlit half was
shining blue oceans and vivid turquoise forests. Its nighttime half was festooned with city lights. The display wall called out thousands of satellites and stations in orbit. An inhabited, spacefaring civilization—the find of a lifetime for any Hub scout. “Nashira!” David cried. “This is—” “Don’t,” Nashira said. “This can’t be what it seems.”

  “But look, it’s right there!”

  “No, you don’t get it. A Hub scout’s lucky to make one major find in a lifetime. Two in as many months? No sodding way can that happen!”

  “It’s random. It’s as likely as anything else.” He smiled. “Maybe Rynyan and I are good luck charms.”

  “Rynyan.” She whirled on the Sosyryn. “Don’t you dare leave this cockpit! I will break your legs before I let you steal another claim!”

  But Rynyan was staring at the planet on the display wall. “Much as I love it when you get physical with me, my dear, I think the Ziovris would be rather annoyed if I tried to stake a claim.”

  “What have the Ziovris got to do with this?” Nashira asked. David recognized the name from news reports, a fairly prominent species in the Hub Network, but couldn’t recall the specifics.

  “Oh, you know how they are about their property. It totally ruined my charity expedition here a few decades back. They nationalized all my donations! The Migration Bureau said they’d decide when and how to distribute it. So come tallying season I could only report one recipient from the whole expedition! It was a huge embarrassment. I was the laughing stock of all Rysos.” He smiled. “Luckily Vnebnil was struck by that asteroid the following year. A prime donating opportunity there, and I was quick to get in on the ground floor.”

  Nashira glared at him. “I’m happy for you that all those people died so you could improve your social standing, but can we stay on topic? Where are we?”

  “Why, the Ziovris homeworld, of course.”

  Nashira stared at the world on the viewer. Then she dove for the controls and spent several minutes verifying Rynyan’s claim. “No, this ... this can’t be. I mean ... no way could I make a find this great!” She was starting to grin despite herself.

  But David was confused. “How can it be a great find if it’s already in the Hub Network?”

  “Damn, you really are from the middle of nowhere. And so’s the Ziovris Hubpoint. It’s thousands of AUs out in their cometary cloud. Months from here.”

  “Terribly inconvenient,” Rynyan added. “Cold sleep simply ruins the sheen of my mane. That’s the other reason I wouldn’t want to claim this place. Oh, and the service? Simply terrible. I mean, sure, building a mega-structure out at the Hubpoint and mobilizing the whole population to move there can be distracting, but it’s simply no excuse for poor hospitality.”

  Nashira rolled her eyes. “Mr. Sensitive here’s right about one thing. That remote Hubpoint’s been rough on the Ziovris. Uprooting their whole civilization, sinking all their resources into the move ... the strict rules they have to follow to keep that huge migration running smoothly ... it’s no way to live.” She beamed. “Can you imagine what it’ll mean to these people to gain a second Hubpoint practically right on their orbit?”

  “Yeah,” David breathed. A Hubpoint was a species’ one and only link to the wealth and wonders of the galaxy. Hub contact had transformed Earth, bringing resources and technologies that offered greater prosperity than humanity had ever known—though far too gradually, at least until humanity could prove it had something to offer in return and become a genuine trading partner rather than a charity case. He recalled the long, expensive commute to Sol’s Hubpoint just outside Saturn’s orbit, and could understand why the Ziovris would be willing to relocate to their far more remote Hubpoint, as numerous other civilizations had in the past. But what might they give to be spared the trouble? “Nashira, this is great! You’ll be rich! No, better, you’ll be a hero!” Brightening, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “A human being finding something this important—Nashira, you’ve put us on the map!”

  She blushed. “Well ... you’ll get your share of the fame too.”

  “I don’t want fame for me. Just for humanity.”

  “Typical.” She chuckled and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull away her hand.

  Then the alarms sounded again. Nashira spun to the controls. “Incoming ship! It’s a military cruiser! They’ve got a laser lock on us, warning strength!”

  “Quick, get us out of here!” Rynyan cried. “Especially me!”

  “I can’t! We’ve waited too long, the return beam’s shut off! And there’s no time to signal for a new one!” That meant the Hubpoint was closed. They couldn’t go anywhere except on the Entropy’s fusion drive, which was far less powerful than the warship’s engines. “Bollocks!” Nashira cursed. “I knew this was too good to be true!”

  A hail came in and Nashira accepted it promptly, not wishing to cause trouble. The being that appeared on the viewer had an upright body plan similar to a human’s or Sosyryn’s, but David could see other crew-beings in the background with four legs apiece, a forward-facing pair stacked atop a shorter rear-facing pair. Their skin was vivid blue and they bore elongated heads that resembled claw hammers from the side. “This is Commander Relniv of the regulatory enforcement vessel Mzinlix,” intoned the officer in the foreground. “Your presence in Ziovris orbital space is irregular, undocumented, and unauthorized. Identify your-selves and justify your departure from procedure.”

  “This is Nashira Wing of the Hubdiver Starship Entropy. I’m a Hub scout, Commander.”

  “No, you’re not. No arrivals from the Hubpoint are scheduled. And your craft is not equipped for a journey of that duration.”

  “We didn’t come from that Hubpoint, Commander.” Nashira trembled with barely restrained excitement. “You’re recording this, right? Well, I hereby inform you that I, Nashira Wing, Hub scout Blue 662 Red 769—”

  “Of Earth,” David interposed.

  “—have just discovered a new Hubpoint in proximity to Ziovris’s orbit.”

  Relniv stared. “What? No. You’ve discovered no such thing. I say again, justify your departure from procedure or—”

  “No, ma’am, I swear.” How Nashira could tell Relniv was female was beyond David. “The Hubpoint’s closed now, but if you’ll just let me send a quantelope signal back to the Hub, they’ll reopen the vector and you can see the return beam for yourself.”

  “No unauthorized communications will be permitted. I have the authorization to fi re upon you should you attempt it!”

  “Um, excuse me,” David put in. “Hi. David LaMacchia, also of Earth. Don’t you see what this means, uh, ma’am? You have a Hubpoint right next to your planet now!”

  “No,” Relniv interjected. “Just stop it. Cease these absurd claims at once.”

  “I don’t get it,” David said. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  Rynyan stepped forward. “Here, I know how to handle this.” He faced the Ziovris commander and gave her the Sosyryn equivalent of a smarmy grin. “Hello. I am Rynyan Zynara ad Surynyyyyyy’a, and I just want to say that whatever dole your government allots to you, it isn’t nearly enough, and I’d be happy to supplement it in exchange for your not shooting us. And may I also say you look very sexually desirable in that nice crisp uniform?”

  “Rynyan!” Nashira pulled him away from the viewer and got in front of him. “Just ignore him, he’s not with us, really. Look, no tricks, no bribes, just let me send one little ’lope message, please.”

  “The policy on intruders in Ziovris airspace is very clear—no communication allowed.”

  “Why? Who could we contact that would hurt you? If there weren’t a known Hubpoint nearby, then—”

  “Wait.” Relniv took on the distant look of someone listening to a commimplant. “I’ve received orders to secure your vessel and escort you to the surface. Do not attempt to disobey our instructions or the penalties will be severe.”

  “Okay, okay. We don’t want any—”

  �
��And you will discuss this with no one. ” Relniv paused, listening to her comm again. “What? Me? Sorry, I thought you meant ... no, of course I won’t discuss ... but why ...” She straightened. “Understood. Out.” She sighed, looking thoughtful, maybe confused. It was hard to read a new species’ expressions, but caution and hesitation could be recognized in most species’ body language. Another common manifestation was a startled jump, which Relniv performed when she noticed that Nashira and the others were still watching her. “You didn’t hear that!” she barked, and cut off the transmission.

  Nashira was expecting a prison cell. So when Commander Relniv and her soldiers deposited them in a luxury hotel suite larger than Hubstation 3742’s entire scout staging area, lavishly appointed with all the comforts she could imagine, it put her far more on edge.

  “I couldn’t agree with you more,” Rynyan said once their escort had left them alone. “They expect me to stay here? I have tool sheds larger than this.”

  “Maybe they finally figured out this is good news and they’re thanking us,” David said.

  Sometimes Nashira almost envied the kid for his simple idealism. Unfortunately, in practice it meant he’d probably get himself or others killed if she didn’t babysit him constantly. “The way they made sure we couldn’t contact anybody? More like they’re fattening us up for the kill.”

  “Maybe they want it to be a surprise?”

  Nashira just rolled her eyes.

  “He has a point,” Rynyan said. “News like this should be announced with proper pomp and ceremony. Music, parades, fireworks, gourmet feasts ... local females hurling themselves at the feet of the heroic discoverers ... ahhh. You know, the one good thing about my last visit was that those four legs allow for some very interesting positions.”

  “That much could be arranged,” came a new voice. Nashira whirled. A fat, well-dressed Ziovris male stood in the doorway, flanked by Relniv and her guards. He had the look of a being that was well fed, lazy, prone to overindulgences of all kinds, and dependent on advanced medicine to ease the ravages of that lifestyle. “Stay outside,” he told Relniv.