Yondering

by Robert Reginald (ed)

  Four massive black cylinders extended from the ceiling above him, tipped with concave dishes. To Ian they resembled electromagnetic energy accumulators such as those used in radio telescopes. The difference here was that these were aimed downward rather than up at the sky. In fact, they appeared to be focused directly on the cube in front of him. He realized with a sinking feeling what these dishes were likely to be accumulating.

  At that moment a grinding sound came to him through the speakers in his helmet. He tore his gaze away from the ceiling and saw a large door panel sliding open on the far wall. The room was now illuminated well enough to easily reveal him to anyone entering. Instinctively he jumped to the right, seeking cover behind a bulkhead that rose up from the floor near the cube. The weak gravity provided less resistance than he was accustomed to, and a single spring of his legs resulted in a superhuman leap, nearly carrying him past his destination. He landed barely behind the bulkhead, and quickly crouched down to view the doorway.

  What strode through the portal a moment later was unlike any life form Ian had encountered. Vaguely humanoid, the pair of creatures walking side by side appeared more like grotesque caricatures than real beings. Their bodies and limbs were incredibly elongated, thin to the point of appearing emaciated, with sparse flesh covering the harder body parts that showed through with painful clarity. They wore little covering other than a loin piece, and a belt from which hung several implements—tools or weapons? Even the sound of their ambulation was unnerving. The sharp click-and-rasp of their feet on the floor was accompanied by a dry creaking, as of old branches rubbing together in the wind.

  Their aliens’ heads sported bulging craniums with large round eyes set unusually high in their foreheads, leaving a blank countenance below which was broken only by two small orifices. Ian’s trained eye looked past the superficial strangeness of their features, keying on the biologic characteristics suggested by the physical traits. Low-gravity organisms, based on the fragile skeletal structure and height. Possibly native to this very planet. The oversized eyes suggest nocturnal vision, or at least high photosensitivity. This dim red light is probably their normal spectrum.

  The creatures headed toward the room’s center, drawing closer to where Ian crouched. They appeared to be conversing, each emitting a guttural croaking from its upper facial orifice, interspersed with harsh sibilants and clicks. Ian’s suit included a universal translator, something that had been developed with the cooperation of other sentient races when humanity had become part of the galactic community. The translation device functioned by detecting brain energy emissions and correlating them with recognized logic patterns, and added some complicated intuitive processing that humans still didn’t fully understand. Regardless, the thing had worked with most organic life forms encountered so far. The only exception in recent memory was the encounter with the vapor beings of the giant gas planet orbiting Gliese 581. But they hardly qualified as organic, so the failure there was understandable. Ian was hopeful that the device would prove useful now, and he was not disappointed.

  As the two creatures came within ten meters of Ian’s position, the speaker in his ear began to emit words in time with their vocalizations. The being on the left gestured at the cube and said, “…this project…risks not foreseen…objects materializing out of the model.”

  The other creature replied, “Need more study…my dimensional model…unlimited potential for learning….”

  “No,” the first being cut the second one off, gesturing emphatically. “Risks too high; need to shut down…study existing data before further research is undertaken.”

  Ian crouched motionless, grimacing as he listened in on the aliens’ conversation. Dimensional model…that should be the cube. And the comment about objects materializing out of it—they’ve got to be referring to the Lazarus project! Damn, I was right!

  The two creatures continued their animated discussion near the cube, and while he listened, Ian pondered a course of action. Somehow he had to get possession of the device, and perhaps hide it until the scientists back home could formulate a plan. Once the room was vacant again, he might be able to act.

  The situation changed abruptly moments later, when the doorway disgorged a dozen or more aliens carrying what looked suspiciously like energy weapons. They marched forth in disciplined ranks, and stopped a handful of strides from where the other two stood. The original pair looked at each other, and the one who had claimed the cube as “its model” exclaimed, “What means this?” It raised its hands as if to hold the others back. “The military…no business here. My project, not yours!”

  The ranks parted and a single figure stepped forth. Its thin frame carried more ornamentation than the rest, with ribbons draped diagonally across its torso in addition to the usual belt and loin piece. Portions of the fabric strips gleamed as if metallic devices were attached. Ian grunted in recognition; regardless of species, military brass always seemed to love their pomp and glitter.

  The newcomer looked from the cube to the two researchers, and it began to speak forcefully. Its words repeated through the translator, their meaning ominously clear. “Our sensors show further activity from the model. This project…now under military control. Risk must be contained. This energy source…proven very useful…can drain remaining power for our needs. May also explore the model, exploit internal matter-energy matrix. Very useful, its properties can be.”

  “Not what we agreed to!” the cube’s creator responded, gesticulating wildly. “Not acceptable!”

  “No choice in matter,” the military official stated, apparently unfazed by the other’s protests. It drew itself up to its full height and gazed imperiously around the room. “Will have military guard around device at all times…protect against incursions from within the dimensional construct.”

  The argument continued hotly, leaving Ian with a precious few moments to weigh his options. This was a truly unfortunate development. The aliens had realized that objects were appearing from within the cube, and were increasing security in response. The military’s involvement would certainly interfere with future human efforts to address the situation. There might not be a better opportunity to intervene than he had right now. But what could he accomplish alone?

  The words of the military official replayed in Ian’s mind. The aliens had plans for the cube, with potentially dire consequences for Ian’s universe. Draining the object’s energy could effectively destroy all life as he knew it. The other alternative, that of “exploring the model,” sounded suspiciously like an invasion. Neither option was acceptable.

  His mind made up, Ian peeked around the bulkhead once again, sizing up the situation. During the confrontation the two civilian aliens had moved away from the cube, approaching the armed contingent on the far side from Ian’s hiding spot. It was now or never.

  Ian shut down his external audio pickup. Then he raised his left arm and quickly launched three flash-bang charges at the tightly bunched creatures. An instant later he ducked back behind the bulkhead and squeezed his eyes shut.

  The rounds flew in a flat arc and landed just short of the aliens. They looked up at the sound just as the charges detonated. Brilliant flashes briefly dispelled the room’s red twilight, outlining every object in stark detail. The sensitive eyes of the creatures were hit with the intense burst from close range, and they dropped their weapons and covered their faces as the deafening percussions also assailed their hearing.

  Switching his audio receiver back on, Ian popped back up to find most of his targets down and disoriented. Some were rolling on the floor as they emitted guttural groaning noises. He leapt from his protective cover and rushed to the cube. Once there he wrapped his arms around it and heaved upward. With his suit’s enhancements the task was easier than expected, and the bulky object came free into his hands. He straightened and began to move as the aliens were regaining their feet.

  Behind him erupted a frenzied croaking, and his helmet speaker spat the words, “Stop the creatu
re! Get the model! We must have it!”

  He powered away from the aliens with long leaping strides, flinching as a blue bolt of energy streaked by his right side. The round impacted on a bank of equipment and blew a charred hole in the metal panel. Another flash passed over his head a second later. Thankfully the creatures’ aim was off, likely due to ghost spots still marring their vision. More vocalizations arose to his rear, louder this time, and the helmet translated, “No plasma rounds! If cube ruptures we all die! Neuro-stuns only!”

  Ian wasn’t sure what type of weapon the latter was, but he didn’t wait to find out. He swerved left at a corridor intersection and put a row of machinery between himself and the aliens. Indicator lights flashed by on each side as he passed between towering devices of unknown function. There seemed to be a grid work of passages intersecting at regular intervals. He took a right at the next intersection, heading again for the far wall. Once there, he hoped that he could find a door panel and manipulate it open. If he could escape this area, his options might improve.

  His breath rasped harshly within his helmet as he willed his legs to pump harder. The servo units in his suit lengthened his stride beyond what would have been humanly possible, and he ate up the distance rapidly. Side corridors crossed his path every ten meters or so, and he glanced down them as he ran. At first their shadowy lengths were empty as far as his vision could penetrate. But about halfway to the wall he began to catch glimpses of figures running in a corridor parallel to his, pacing him. The creatures’ awkward appearance belied their speed. Their thin limbs, at least half again as long as a man’s, appeared to stride unhurriedly, but they ate up incredible distance nonetheless. Even with his enhanced abilities he could not outrun them.

  He turned away from his pursuers at the next intersection, heading in the new direction for a handful of strides, then took another turn back toward the wall. He could see it now, just up ahead, and there appeared to be a door slab set into its surface. He pushed toward it with the cube cradled tightly in his arms.

  Suddenly an alien soldier appeared in the corridor junction just ahead. It leveled a long-handled weapon at him, and Ian dropped instinctively to his knees, removing his right hand from the cube long enough to fire an impact grenade down the corridor. Simultaneously the air in front of the creature rippled as its weapon discharged. There was no flash, nothing solid that Ian could see, just a mirage-like distortion of the atmosphere.

  A split second later he felt a tingle like an electrical charge as the air just over his head crackled. It was a near miss by the alien, and Ian’s suit partially protected him. Even so, he felt his limbs buckle for an instant, and the helmet’s readouts flickered before steadying. The heads-up display showed an intense electromagnetic pulse had passed close to him. A direct hit would probably incapacitate both Ian and his suit hardware.

  But a second shot would not be coming from the alien in front of him. As Ian felt the discharge of the E.M. round, his grenade reached his opponent, and it did not miss. The concussion blew a meter-deep crater in the floor and threw bits of the creature in all directions. The blast also caught a second alien soldier which had just appeared in the intersection. By the time Ian regained his feet and began moving forward, the way ahead was cleared.

  He reached the wall within fifteen seconds at a full run. Sliding to a stop, he scanned the large rectangular slab which he surmised covered an exit. Its dimensions were impressive, at least four meters high by two wide. Frantically he looked for a control or latch. The only visible marks on the smooth surfaces were three dark squares set in the wall to the left of the slab. Ian approached and pressed on the lowest one, and nothing happened. He got the same result when punching the second. The top square was barely within his reach, and he extended his hand toward it as he heard the scraping clicks of enemy footsteps drawing near.

  He never touched the top panel. When his glove passed in front of its face, the slab began to slide to the right, revealing an opening beyond. Ian didn’t wait for the door to grind its way completely open. As soon as the gap widened enough, he squeezed through and into a broad corridor on the other side.

  Glancing left and right in the murky red illumination, he could discern no difference, so he turned right on a whim. As he did so, he caught a glimpse through the open doorway of several aliens rounding a corner into the hallway he had just vacated. They spotted Ian almost immediately and sped toward him. He quickly ducked out of the path of fire and sprinted away down the new corridor. It turned left after thirty meters or so, and Ian took the corner at full speed, bouncing off the outside wall but retaining his feet and his grip on the cube. Another hallway quickly branched off to the right and he followed it, trying to stay out of his pursuers’ line of sight.

  A short sprint brought him to an open chamber. It resembled a lounge of some sort, with oddly-shaped pieces of furniture and a transparent wall providing his first look at the outside world. As Ian rushed through at a full run, he caught a view of a tumbled landscape crouched under a bloated crimson sun. Twisted tree-like vegetation spread black foliage in the sickly glow, and in the distance he saw impossibly tall towers rearing into the dim sky, their lengths festooned with twinkling lights.

  In a flash Ian was through the room and out into the corridor on the other side, running onward as his legs felt like rubber and his lungs burned. Door slabs passed by to the left and right, none of them open. He followed the corridor around two bends, and a high-pitched siren began wailing as he approached what appeared to be a dead end.

  Ian came to a stop in front of yet another closed door with three squares set into the wall. He quickly passed his hand over the topmost panel, and nothing happened. The other two squares also failed to budge the door, even when he slapped them with his palm.

  With a curse he whirled to head back in the other direction. He had moved no more than a few strides before the skeletal figure of an alien soldier rounded the corner ahead of him. Before Ian could free an arm to defend himself, the alien fired its weapon.

  An instant later the E.M. charge hit him full on. His suit spasmed, sparks dancing over its surface in a blue halo. Every nerve in Ian’s body burned like fire as his legs buckled and the world toppled sideways. The ground met him hard, and he rolled onto his back, dazed by the impact. Smoke wisped into his helmet, filling his nostrils with the stink of burned circuitry. His arms were frozen still gripping the cube. In his weakened state he felt pinned down by its mass, unable to move. Carrying the weight of the universe, he thought feverishly. And I failed them all.

  He looked up helplessly as three aliens loomed over him. Their hollow faces were inscrutable, regarding him with pupil-less eyes like ebony pits. One reached down toward the cube, and Ian heard the dry rustle of its limbs, as if no moisture remained in its desiccated frame. It was too late now, he knew, too late to do anything but die. And every living thing in his universe would soon follow him into oblivion.

  As the creature extended its clawed hands, Ian felt an odd sensation, his skin suddenly crawling as if spiders scurried up and down his body. He had a second to wonder if it was an aftereffect of the stun weapon, and then the world around him vanished.

  * * * *

  An eternity later Ian was seated once more at the conference table at Epsilon Eridani. This time the mood was decidedly different, as the officials and scientists in attendance wore broad smiles. Ian sat through the meeting in a wheelchair. In reality only two days had passed since his return, and he was still recovering from the effects of the alien’s weapon. His mind felt fuzzy as he tried to take in what the others were telling him. The cube rested enigmatically in the center of the table, its danger and mystery undiminished by the mundane setting.

  “So explain that to me again,” Ian said, rubbing his temples. “What did you mean by, ‘it inverted’?”

  Dr. Cavanaugh cocked her head and replied, “Well, you were holding the cube when we drew you back into our universe. Now it is here, inside our spacetime, which obviou
sly means it can’t contain our reality any longer.”

  Ian glanced at the device, with the swirls of galaxies and quasars still glowing within its depths. “Well, if our universe is now outside the cube, then what’s inside?”

  The scientist grinned. “The most likely candidate is the spacetime continuum that was in contact with the object when you drew it into our dimension.”

  Comprehension dawned, and Ian’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean…the aliens’ universe?” She nodded, still smiling, and he returned her grin as the implications hit him. “So, they’re confined in their own cube, and at our mercy now?”

  “Damn right,” General McAllister growled from the head of the table. “We should drain their universe of energy, and see how they like it!”

  “That would not be very ethical, considering the billions of innocent beings that probably inhabit their reality,” the doctor chided him. “Besides, we don’t possess the technology to safely draw energy from the object. It will take extensive study to even begin to understand how the cube was constructed.”

  Assent was heard from around the table, and the general snorted but held his peace.

  “I just want to know one thing,” Ian declared, and all eyes turned toward him. He looked at Dr. Cavanaugh and said, “I wonder exactly how long it will take them to figure out what happened?”

  As the doctor returned his gaze, Ian’s serious expression gave way to a smirk. Then they both began to chuckle, and one by one the others around the table joined in. It seemed that things were indeed going to be all right, and this time they truly did have the last laugh.

  SIEGFRIED, by Victor Cilincă

  TRANSLATED FROM THE ROMANIAN BY PETRU IAMANDI

  The sky was very low and very green, so you could almost expect to leap from the queer, dwarfish forest and land on either of the two suns which were now setting. Jeff had started one of his stupid speeches again, in his well-known manner.