Trapped

by Scott Bartlett

  Husher followed her gaze, and realized that he was the only human in earshot. There were only Wingers as far as he could see. Husher had made a point of requiring the crew of the Relentless to include members of every IU species. Being surrounded by just Wingers was a strange sight.

  “The fleet is segregated now,” Fesky said. “You know that, even if nobody will talk about it. As things go to shit, we self-segregate. That’s how the universe works. So you don’t need a Winger on your ship.”

  “I have Wingers on my ship. You know that.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure you do. But you’re an outlier. And I think we both know that at the end of the day, the IU will have the final word.”

  Husher wasn’t so naive that he didn’t know what Fesky meant. The IU had practically invited the last war, with their acceptance of bigotry within their ranks. Even if those rifts between the various species had been repaired since then, the social fabric was still loosely held together. It could rip apart in a moment.

  Fesky was right about the self-selecting. Each species was beginning to seek assignments on ships with crews predominantly belonging to their own species. It was a recipe for disaster that Husher took seriously, but too many of his fellow captains were willing to ignore the situation.

  “That’s why I need you, Fesky.”

  She looked at Husher like she wanted to say more. Then loud voices broke out in the market behind him as two merchants began to squabble. Others got involved, and it looked like it might escalate further.

  The distraction seemed to clear Fesky’s mind. When Husher looked back at her, her features were set. She had stepped back to the doorway of her rundown living pod.

  “Goodbye, Captain. Please don’t come again.”

  “Fesky,” said Husher, but she had already turned away. The door slammed, and his old friend was gone.

  Chapter 7

  Planet Zakros

  Outer suburbs of the capital

  For the second time that day, Husher found himself knocking on an unfamiliar door. But this one was only unfamiliar because his ex-wife and daughter had moved since the last time he’d visited Zakros. He tried to visit as often as he could, but it wasn’t often enough.

  “Hello, Vin,” said Sera Caine, opening the door before he could even knock. His ex seemed to be in an unusually good mood, which was both unexpected and welcome. “Saw you coming up the walk.”

  Husher held up the bottle of wine he’d brought with him. “Sera.”

  “Really?”

  “Really what?”

  “Don’t what me. Wine is something you might buy for an acquaintance. Is this a housewarming gift, or are you here to have dinner with your daughter and ex-wife?”

  Husher rolled his eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s the cheapest bottle I could find.”

  “Why would that make me feel better?” Sera opened the door wide and let him pass as she continued to inspect the wine. The house felt warm and lived in. Husher instantly felt at home—as close to a home as he had these days, outside of a starship.

  “You like it when I’m practical,” he said.

  “That was never one of your problems.” She looked up from the wine with a rueful smile. “You’re not kidding about how cheap this is. Did they actually pay you to take it?”

  “I never kid about food and drink,” he said as his gaze was drawn to the hallway. “Speaking of kids….”

  Husher’s teenage daughter Iris planted her hands on her hips. “Not a kid, dad. I’m twenty.”

  So, not a teenager anymore, thought Husher. The fact depressed him, but he tried not to show it. “Always a kid to me. I don’t care how old you are, kiddo.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  A succulent smell drifted to him from the kitchen. “Smells good,” he said, and meant it. After the sickening visit to Fesky—sickening both physically and emotionally—he was glad to find a place where he felt welcome. Which was probably a strange thing for a man to say about dinner with his ex-wife, but there it was. “You look well, Sera.”

  “Mom has a boyfriend,” Iris said unprompted, sparking an instant shushing motion from her mother.

  Husher felt a twinge in his chest, but it passed. The days of thinking of his ex-wife as anything more than a good friend were long gone. “Not a starship captain, I hope.”

  “Anything but that,” Sera said. She waved him toward the kitchen table. Dinner was already set, and the food was simmering.

  “Sorry I’m a little late. I had to—”

  “No need to apologize,” Sera said. “I don’t need the BS. I’ve lived it.”

  “Mom didn’t even put the food on until after you were supposed to get here,” Iris teased. “You’re always soooo late.”

  “Glad I can be consistent.”

  “Hey, I thought we were going to drink that!” Iris said as Sera put the wine Husher had brought into the cupboard.

  Sera put on a mock pained expression. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

  Husher laughed. It had been a while since he’d had a good laugh, and this one was disproportionate. But damn it, it was nice to be able to take it easy for a change.

  Sera gave him a sideways glance as she came and sat at the table. As the food was passed around, the conversation was light and easy, though there was an uncomfortable moment when Iris asked after Jake Price. Husher hadn’t realized his daughter still had feelings for the mech pilot who’d been so instrumental in defeating the Progenitors. He only knew that they’d been a couple for a while on the Vesta, and now they weren’t. But the way his daughter’s eyes fell when he honestly admitted he had no idea where Price was or what he was doing told him that there was a deeper wound there. And yet, he knew nothing about it or how to help. In that moment, he was reminded of just how much of an absentee father he really was.

  But Iris rallied quickly, and thanks to her suggestion that recently, Sera had been fumbling to impress the new man in her life—a suggestion Sera assured him was wildly inaccurate—any uneasiness was quickly forgotten, and laughter returned to the table.

  Too much laughter, apparently. Sera continued to give him the sly eye. Finally, she spoke. “You’re happy.”

  Husher raised his eyebrows. “Is that a crime? He wanted to tell her he was just trying to forget how unhappy his visit with one of his oldest friends had been, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

  “You are happy,” Iris said, even more accusingly than her mother. “What gives?”

  “It’s just nice to exchange a command chair for a dinner chair. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

  “No,” said Sera. “There’s something else. Are you here on a mission?”

  Damn. Was he really that transparent? Then again, these were the people who knew him better than anyone else in the universe. “I’m doing a little digging into something…different.”

  Iris leaned forward, her expression one of instant interest. “Like what?”

  Husher smiled, laying it on a little thick. He knew if he told his daughter about alien messages from another universe, she’d flip. But he wasn’t about to do that. “It’s different,” he said again. “It’s also classified.”

  Iris groaned. “Everything is classified.”

  Husher shrugged. “Just the way it is, kiddo.”

  Sera was altogether more in tune with what was really happening. “Ochrim,” she said. “You’re here to see that old Ixan fool.”

  Husher said nothing.

  “Have you seen the monster they’re letting him build over there?”

  “Speaking of classified,” Husher said.

  Sera waved him away. “Everyone knows about it. You can’t really hide something like that. Is he really going to try and give the IU the key to altering the past?”

  “I honestly don’t know what Ochrim is doing.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she said. “So why are you here, then? If that’s not it, then what could it be? Because I tend to doubt you stopped by Zakro
s just to have dinner.”

  “Can’t I stop by to see my family while I’m planetside without being interrogated?”

  “It is something,” Iris said at that.

  “What a cynical daughter I have.” Husher’s grin widened.

  “If it’s something cool, can I come?”

  “Definitely not. Civilians don’t belong on warships.”

  He glanced at Sera, and a little strain crossed her face. The thought of life on a capital starship wasn’t a laughing matter for her. Or for Husher, if he was honest. The Vesta had been a fine command, but the idea of cities on ships had been flawed from top to bottom.

  Husher felt his com buzz from his belt. He unholstered and answered it.

  It was Ochrim. “I need you to come back to the facility.”

  “Hello, Ochrim,” Husher said aloud. “We were just talking about how I’m here to see my family and definitely not you.”

  Sera rolled her eyes as Iris looked on, wearing an excited expression.

  The Ixan’s tone didn’t change. “I need you to come back right now.”

  Husher felt his smile slipping away. “I’m on my way now.”

  Sera nodded, but said nothing. Husher suppressed a curse under his breath. Every time he visited his family, it seemed like a silent vindication for her. Husher didn’t have time in his life for a family, he could feel her telling him. He had time for everyone but his family. What irritated him the most was that she didn’t need to make the argument at all. Husher could do that for her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She smiled ruefully. “I know.”

  He turned to Iris. “Sorry, kiddo, I really am. But I have to go.”

  Iris offered a smile that mirrored her mother’s, and for a moment all Husher could see was Sera in his daughter’s face.

  “Duty calls,” she said at last.

  Husher stood. “Duty calls.”

  He offered them both hugs, and left as fast as he could.

  Chapter 8

  Planet Zakros

  Undisclosed IU research facility

  “Well?” Husher asked Ochrim as soon as he was ushered into the small observation tower.

  He grimaced. That had come out more curtly than he’d intended. If his annoyance at rushing out on his family hadn’t left him in a foul mood, the longer times at the security checkpoints certainly had. Admiral Iver’s magic touch was wearing off.

  Ochrim was looking out of the massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows at the huge construction project beyond. He turned wearing a wry smile. “How difficult was security this time?”

  Damn. It really did seem like the old Ixan could read his mind sometimes. “The reception was a little chillier this time around.” He’d gotten into an argument with a young officer at one of the outer checkpoints, which had ended with his documents being handed back to him, along with a cryptic, muttered comment: “Glad the humans still have some use for the IU.” Husher had gotten more dark glances as he progressed through each checkpoint.

  The Ixan chuckled. “It’s going to get worse. The situation with the IU is rapidly deteriorating.”

  “Am I going to have trouble getting back in here?”

  “It’s a distinct possibility.”

  Husher didn’t like the sound of that. “That makes it all the more urgent to translate the message, then. You said you had something?”

  Ochrim paused, then seemed to nod to himself. “Security is getting tighter.”

  “It is,” Husher agreed, wondering where Ochrim was going with this.

  “It was easier earlier.”

  Husher sighed. “OK, Ochrim. I’m not sure a lesson in verb tenses is really the best use of our time.”

  Ochrim smiled. He held up the small drive card that held the alien message. “If you want to understand this transmission, it is.”

  “All right, I’ll bite. Why?”

  “When you and I talk about an event, we talk about it happening in either the past or present, and we differentiate between the two using verb tenses. We had a conversation about this message before; we are having a conversation about it now. Without that subtle distinction, the two conversations would seem like a single, endless conversation.”

  “It’s already starting to feel endless.”

  Ochrim ignored the quip. “Imagine listening to a conversation in which everything referenced seemed to happen in the past. We had this conversation, right now. Those workers” —he motioned out the huge floor-to-ceiling window, toward a handful of workers who were straining to shift a large section of supports— “have already erected those beams.”

  Husher thought he was beginning to understand. “So the alien message doesn’t differentiate time?”

  “Precisely,” Ochrim said. “And once I understood that, I understood why you were told that this signal seemed to be a distress signal, rather than that it was a distress signal.”

  “So you can decipher it?”

  “It contains no actual plea for help.”

  “What do you mean?” Husher asked.

  “It describes, with spare detail, an attack on the senders of the message by an…” Ochrim hesitated, seeming to hunt for the right words. “…an endless swarm. To a listener with our conception of temporality, it appears to have happened at some point in the indeterminate past. But to someone who makes no differentiation between past and present, that detail is meaningless. They couldn’t actually ask for help, since that would be meaningless too. They could only describe help that has already been sought.”

  “Sounds straightforward enough.”

  “Certainly,” Ochrim said. “Once you understand their relationship with time, the pieces fall into place. But that little revelation took me all night.”

  “So it’s definitely a call for help, then?”

  “Yes. Because of their strange conception of time, the message seems detached—clinical, even. But I suspect that by their standards, it is as desperate as a message can be.”

  “It seems I brought a linguistics problem to the right person,” Husher said.

  “I’ve done nothing but work to decipher it since the moment you left.”

  Husher nodded toward the construction project. “I can’t believe they could spare you.”

  “Oh, I have plenty of minions, which the IU was kind enough to provide. This project can run for some time without my input.”

  “So, the message. Is there more to it than a call for help?”

  “It included the coordinates and interdimensional transitions the probe that carried it took to arrive at our universe. They were disguised by a mathematical cipher, which was easy enough to crack. Much more so than the language itself, if I’m being honest.”

  Husher made an impatient gesture. “And the coordinates?”

  “They’re at the end of the message.” Ochrim handed the drive to Husher. “Translated and transcribed for ease of use.”

  Husher nodded. He really had brought this to the right person. He wondered offhandedly if Admiral Iver had known this all along. For all Husher knew, Iver had already known the contents of the message, and wanted Husher to figure it out for himself. That would make this Husher’s mission, despite the fact that no one had explicitly assigned it to him. “So, these people. They need our help?”

  Ochrim cocked his head. “We’re calling them ‘people’ already?”

  “I call you people, don’t I? Clearly it’s a very broad term.”

  Ochrim pretended to be offended. “Your rudeness aside, the IU is too busy fawning over the Quatro to do anything with this. I highly doubt they’d take the risk of barreling into an unknown dimension to help an unknown species.”

  “Hey, don’t steal my lines,” Husher said. “I’m the IU cynic here.”

  “I believe your experience with this facility’s security personnel is just the tip of the iceberg. Things are getting more unsettled by the minute.”

  Husher wondered what Ochrim knew that he didn’t. “The IU won’
t help the species that sent this message. But humanity will.”

  Ochrim turned back to the glass windows. “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

  “Well, I have to go. Thanks for your time, Ochrim. I know how busy you are wasting IU money.”

  Ochrim snorted. “You realize that what you’re proposing will be a huge undertaking. And the political pressure will be immense.”

  “We’ll leave immediately.”

  “No, you won’t. It will take weeks.”

  “I think you’re overestimating the red tape.”

  Ochrim turned and smiled. “I guess we’ll see.”

  Chapter 9

  Three weeks later

  Zakros Spaceport

  Standing in a security line to enter the non-civilian portion of Zakros’ largest spaceport, Husher glanced up at a vid screen. The words “Is war imminent?” screamed from the bottom of the screen in menacing red letters as an attractive newscaster described the latest skirmish in breathless detail.

  “Sources inside the newly re-formed United Human Commonwealth have confirmed that the human government, which only last week formally withdrew from the IU following the collapse of talks to share planetary systems with the Quatro, will investigate an interdimensional distress call that was intercepted almost a month ago. The fully-deciphered message was revealed yesterday by government sources within the IU, and confirmed today by UHC officials.”

  The newscaster was replaced by a stern woman in military fatigues addressing a group of reporters. Her uniform looked crisp, but Husher could tell she was just a press officer. “The UHC will defend its systems and the planets within them by any means necessary. That fundamental reality has led to the formal withdrawal from the IU, and likewise leads us to investigate the alien distress call—which was intercepted in human space, I might remind all of you.”

  The newscaster returned, still breathless. “The revelation of an alien signal has sent ripples through the galactic community.”

  Again, her image was replaced by a press conference, this one run by a balding IU representative with dark circles under his eyes. “The IU unanimously objects to any expedition that could potentially lead a superintelligent AI back to the home dimension. The human faction is well aware of the devastation wrought by AI multiverse technology in the past. The last thing the universe needs is another incursion.”