The Daedalus Incident Revised

by Michael Martinez

  A second shot rang out from behind her. She spun to see Anne with a pistol in hand—where she got it, Shaila couldn’t say. The shot managed to hit Althotas squarely in the chest, and the Martian let out a second shriek as it staggered back, clawed hands flailing.

  “It’s strong,” Weatherby said, clawing his way back to his feet. “Pistol shot will not do.”

  Anne dropped her pistol in frustration. “Where is St. Germain?” she asked.

  “He fell in the explosion. Alive, but unconscious,” Weatherby said. “It falls to us, now.”

  Weatherby, Anne and Shaila turned to look at the altar for a moment, keeping one wary eye on Althotas as the creature clutched at its head and chest. There was something that was gnawing at Weatherby’s mind, the solution upon his lips but failing to come out.

  Anne got it first: “To everything there is an opposite,” she said, as if from rote. “What can be done . . . ”

  And Finch’s words came rushing back to Weatherby. “. . . can also be undone by working in reverse!”

  Weatherby reached out and quickly took the Mercurium sphere in his hand, feeling it nestle fluidly in his palm. He weighed his options for a moment . . . .

  . . . and then threw it right into the open portal.

  A blinding flash of light erupted from the vortex, punctuated by another shriek from Althotas. “NO!” it screamed as the swirling black increased in intensity and speed. “YOU CANNOT!”

  Anne picked up the va’hakla flower and threw that as well. It was quite light, so much so that it did not appear the sphere would make the portal. Yet it nonetheless flew directly into the vortex, as if drawn there.

  Seizing upon their idea, Shaila grabbed the Philosopher’s Stone and likewise hurled it into the portal. “All of them!” she shouted. “Throw ’em all in!”

  But they didn’t need to do any more. One by one, the alchemical essences of the Solar System began rising off the altar into the vortex, which grew brighter and swirled even faster, choked with new energy.

  As they watched, Althotas too began to be drawn into the portal, his clawed feet scratching at the floor. He reached out and grabbed the altar, a look of terror on his nightmarish face. “YOU CANNOT!” he rasped. “I WILL NOT GO BACK!”

  Yuna, who had been watching with disbelief and horror, seemed to find herself in that moment. Grimly she stepped in front of Shaila and Weatherby. “You will go back,” she said quietly. “You tricked us. You had us murder for you. Go back there and stay there.” And with that, she took a piece of the broken Xan blade from mid-air, just as it was about to rise toward the portal, and drove it into the top of Althotas’ head.

  Shaila gasped as the creature cried out, a sickly gurgle that echoed in the chamber. It lashed out with its claws, catching Yuna across the face and chest—but in doing so, it lost its grip on the altar and started rising toward the vortex.

  Shaila caught Yuna as she crumpled. The older woman’s face bore three claw marks that bubbled and oozed with blood and a green, viscous substance; the front of her pressure suit was in tatters. Yuna gasped, eyes like saucers, and began to tremble violently.

  Shaila turned to look at Althotas with anger, but the creature was quickly being drawn back into its prison. He was suspended above the floor now, his body entering the vortex as his arms and legs flailed uselessly around him.

  “TRAITORS!” he shouted. “ANIMALS! WHEN I RETURN, YOUR PEOPLE WILL BE DESTROYED! I PROMISE YOU! I—”

  Althotas was cut off as his head re-entered the portal, leaving only his limbs visible. A few moments after that, only one claw remained, and that too was inexorably drawn back in.

  Cradling Yuna’s body, Shaila looked up at Weatherby and Anne. “I think we did it,” she said, slightly dazed.

  The Royal Navy officer nodded, with the bare hint of a smile. “Well done, Lieutenant.”

  Another blinding flash erupted from the wall, bathing the entire chamber in impossibly bright light. Shaila saw Weatherby turn and shelter Anne in his arms before the light blinded her. A roar of sound flowed into Shaila’s ears, followed by silence.

  Not quite silence, actually. There was a slight breeze, a very, very cold one.

  Shaila tried to chase the spots from her eyes and took a deep breath.

  Her lungs erupted in protest. And in that moment, she knew she was screwed. The Mars she had known all her life had returned to this place.

  Unfortunately, she had no idea where her helmet was.

  She clambered slowly to her knees and looked around. There—about 10 meters away, a dented helmet lay upon the rocky surface. She took a step, but immense pain in her side forced her back down to all fours. She looked to see a red mist seeping from the hole in the side of her pressure suit.

  Her blood was literally evaporating in the low-pressure Martian atmosphere.

  Gasping, Shaila started crawling toward her helmet, scrabbling across the red dust and rock. She felt her eyeballs freezing, becoming sticky against her eyelids, and fresh spots began to appear before her eyes. Her lungs burned as she huffed and puffed, desperate for life-giving oxygen and warmth.

  The last thing she saw was her helmet, just a meter out of reach, before everything went black.

  CHAPTER 28

  August 3, 2132

  Shaila’s first sensation after falling unconscious was sound, specifically a regular cadence of soft chirps and beeps. The sound faded in and out for what seemed like a very long time as she slept, edging toward consciousness but only to fall away again. A small part of her subconscious grew frustrated with the whole thing.

  The next sensation was light. Behind her closed eyelids, she began to discern light and darkness. This prompted her to try to wake up more, but sleep was persistent. She floated in a hazy, beep-strewn state of semi-wakefulness for another unknown span of time.

  Finally, she managed to open her eyes, even though her lashes felt crusty and the light hurt like hell. When she was finally able to focus, she saw a face smiling down on her.

  “Welcome back,” Stephane said softly.

  She smiled weakly. The beeps and chirps would be from the medical sensors. She was nice and comfortable and, most importantly, alive.

  “What . . . ?” her voice trailed off.

  “What happened?” Stephane said, finishing the sentence. “I finally got you into bed.” His grin grew wider.

  “Asshole,” she said weakly, her own smile showing.

  Stephane didn’t say much more for the next few minutes, stepping back to allow Doug Levin to check her vitals and give her a few doses of something or another. After a moment, she felt more awake and, with a bit of surprise, recognized she was feeling really hungry.

  “Can I get something to eat?” she asked quietly.

  “Sorry, girlie,” Levin said. “You’re on a diet until tomorrow at the earliest. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “What exactly have I been through?” she asked.

  Levin cocked his head toward Stephane. “Damned if I know. It’s classified to hell and back. Ask him.”

  Stephane sat down on the edge of the bed. “To start with, you saved two universes from something really, really disgusting and awful. Yuna’s holocam caught everything, even though she had set it down on the altar at some point.”

  “Wow . . . I would love to see that holo,” Shaila said.

  “Not right now. You need rest,” Levin said.

  “Soon,” Stephane added. “It is enough to say that as soon as that Martian thing got sucked back into where it came from, the overlap between our universe and theirs came undone almost instantly.”

  “And that left me without my helmet,” Shaila said.

  “It left us all without helmets, my dear. Mine was still attached to my suit, so I was able to get it on quickly. The colonel was some distance away, but I could see she was conscious and able to get her helmet on as well. She managed to keep a finger in the hole in her suit until we could reach her. And that left you and Greene.”

&n
bsp; “And Yuna.”

  Stephane bowed his head. “Yuna is dead, Shay,” he said quietly. “The wounds were not that severe, but the substance on that creature’s claws was poisonous, I am told. We are still analyzing it, but it seems to be something completely new and different.”

  Shaila paused a moment to take that in. “Greene?” she finally asked.

  “He is fine. His suit was intact. He only spent a day in here. Col. Diaz was released yesterday.”

  “Yesterday . . . how long have I been out?” Shaila asked.

  “Four days.” He picked up a chart off the table. “If I am reading this right, you had three broken ribs, four cracked ribs, a slightly punctured lung, a lacerated kidney—lacerated is cut, yes?—a nasty 15-centimeter slash on your side, blood loss, shock, some lung damage due to the cold atmosphere and severe dehydration.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “And I suppose you’re the one who found my helmet and saved me?”

  “Of course,” he grinned.

  “God, you’re going to be insufferable now,” she said. “How’d you manage the suit rupture?”

  “The newbie, as you say, learns well. Duct tape.”

  “You duct taped the suit?” she asked.

  “Actually, Shay, I duct taped your wound, then the suit.”

  Levin laughed. “Damnedest thing I ever saw, too.” Shaila and Stephane turned to look at him, and he quickly decided that he had errands to run elsewhere.

  Shaila laid quietly for a moment, absorbing. She thought about complimenting Stephane’s ingenuity, but he seemed to be feeling pretty full of himself. “So,” she said finally. “What’s been going on around here?”

  Stephane stood up. “You should hear of that from the colonel,” he said. “Things are interesting, but better than you might think.” He reached out to hand her a printout. “Your Royal Navy friend left you a note.”

  It was a letter from Thomas Weatherby.

  She frowned. “How’d we get this?” she asked.

  “It was the last page of the journal, recorded by the sensors in the containment lab before the book just disappeared. No Cherenkov radiation, no nothing. Just gone.”

  “How’s that even possible?” Shaila said as she looked upon the neat penmanship. “Didn’t we seal the gateway?”

  “Dr. Greene has his theories,” Stephane said. “He believes that there may be some lingering link between our two universes. He went on about sympathetic quantum patterns in space-time and things like that. He lost me quickly. Anyway, it was addressed to you. Of course, we all read it.”

  “Of course,” she smiled. She began to read. “Christ, he spelled my name wrong.”

  June 21, 1779

  To Lieut. Sheila Jane, Royal Navy

  I write in the hopes of reaching out one last time to you to apprise you of events that have unfolded after your heroic acts of two days ago. I hope you will be pleased to know that, for the most part, all is well here. Where “here” is in relation to your location, I dare not venture to say. I have heard much from the Count St. Germain on the topic, and my head has yet to stop swimming.

  Yes, the Count has recovered from his injuries, which were minor. Dr. Finch was wounded again in the wake of his ill-advised but wholly brave surprise, having been shocked by his own overloaded device, but he is coming along well, it seems. Miss Baker is likewise well, and has managed to salvage her sail-cart, which brought her to our rescue so expediently. She has christened it Second Chance, and I find the name wholly fitting. We all hope that you, your commander and your fellows are similarly recovering from these extraordinary events.

  We have signaled the Badger successfully, and now merely await our rescue, though this will likely take at least a month. Our stores should be sufficient, and the men tell me that certain Martian beasts make good eating. Though you have not met him in person, you should also know that Captain Morrow is up and about, and has asked me to send his sincerest compliments.

  Cagliostro now sits in our makeshift brig, salvaged from the remnants of the Daedalus and Chance. Dr. Franklin and St. Germain pepper him with questions constantly, to which he responds most dully, though with exactitude, I am told. He is a broken man. Like your colleague, I dare say he was duped by the creature we saw. We are trying to piece together all that has occurred, as well as the repercussions thereof. For now, however, we do feel Althotas has been duly thwarted.

  I do not know if you will ever read this. Nonetheless, the Count and Dr. Franklin both believe that you may receive this missive through careful placement and the good offices of their alchemy. I pray you do. If so, know that for your heroism and bravery, you have my deepest gratitude, and that of my crew and compatriots as well. We are of very different times and worlds, it would seem, but if His Majesty’s Royal Navy produces officers of your caliber in 350 years, I will sleep soundly to-night, with great confidence in the future of any world in which you may play a part.

  With respect and admiration,

  Lieut. Thomas Weatherby, HMS Daedalus

  August 4, 2132

  “Way to score one for the ladies, Commander,” Diaz said as she entered the medical berth.

  Shaila was reading Weatherby’s letter again. In fact, the printout was starting to look a little weathered from all the handling it had received.

  “Thanks, ma’am,” Shaila said with a small grin. She then paused. “Commander?” she added with some confusion.

  “Yep,” Diaz replied, wincing as she pulled a datapad out of her pocket. “Still a bit sore from that bullet. Anyway: ‘By order of the Admiralty, Lt. Shaila Jain is hereby promoted to the rank of lieutenant commander, with all the duties and privileges thereof.’ Signed Admiral Sir So-and-So, First Sea Lord, bunch of initials after that, whatever.” She tossed the datapad on the table next to the bed. “Congratulations, Commander. I’d salute, but my side’s killing me.”

  Shaila smiled, but said nothing. Her first instinct was to say something pithy and self-deprecating, but the words sounded hollow before she even said them. She did, however, have to fight back a tear or two.

  “Nice to know you have a future ahead of you, isn’t it,” Diaz said quietly as she sat on the bed.

  “Aye, ma’am,” Shaila replied, finding her composure once more. She looked up and saw a star on Diaz’ coverall. “You got new jewelry too?”

  It was Diaz’ turn to grin big. “Brigadier general. Saving the multiverse has its privileges,” she said. “Besides, I didn’t want you catching up to me so damn fast.”

  “Couldn’t have that,” Shaila said. “You’ve been busy.”

  “We all have. You’re lucky. You got to sleep through it,” Diaz responded. “Reactor’s back online thankfully, and I’ve had teams out with sensors since I woke up. Houston’s having kittens. Their experts are still nearly three weeks out, so it’s up to us to give them answers.”

  “And do we have any?”

  “Just more questions,” Diaz said. “The affected area still has traces of Cherenkov radiation here and there, but far less than before. The atmospheric and gravitational anomalies are just plain gone. You see the holovid yet?”

  Shaila frowned. “No, Levin won’t let me.”

  “Probably smart. That was some scary shit out there, Jain. And if it weren’t so crazy, I’d say Houston was over-reacting. But it is crazy, so I’d say they’re handling it well. And Harry’s actually been pretty forthcoming with resources and data, for a change. Oh, and he’s dropped the assault charges against you.

  “And with that cleared up, you might be happy to know that you’ve been offered a couple of new assignments,” Diaz added.

  “Oh? Already?” Shaila said. “Like what?”

  “One, JSC is starting up a brand new task force to study the phenomena here and on Earth. Codenamed DAEDALUS, of course. They even convinced Greene to quit his show and come on as the science lead for it.”

  Shaila smiled. “He must be thrilled.”

  “Like a pig in shit. I don’t think he’s sl
ept in days. Anyway, DAEDALUS is ultimately tasked with the study of extradimensional science, such as it is, along with extradimensional defense, should that ugly son of a bitch try to come back. Maybe even extradimensional travel, if we can pull it off. Greene thinks we can.”

  “Which would make us...dimensanauts?”

  “Cute. Anyway, you can sign up with us if you want,” Diaz said. “I’m heading up the military side of it and I need an XO.”

  Shaila blinked in surprise. “Really? Thanks.”

  “Well, you haven’t heard the other offer,” Diaz said. “They’ve re-tasked the Armstrong. No more Jupiter. After everything we’ve read about the Xan, they’re sending her to Saturn. Major mission, multiple landings, you name it. Well funded this time, too. And they need an experienced pilot and EVA specialist.”

  Shaila exhaled. “Wow. Saturn.”

  “The next final frontier,” Diaz smiled. “It’s a long-ass trip, but the ship’s top notch.” The general looked over her shoulder for a moment. “And the planetary scientist they got going with them is pretty cute, too.”

  It took a moment for Shaila to realize what Diaz was saying. “Stephane’s going?”

  The general grinned and arched an eyebrow. “Yep.”

  Shaila’s face turned a deep shade of red. “Huh. Well. Um . . . I guess I’ll have to think about it.”

  Diaz stood up. “Oh, bullshit. Go to Saturn. Be the first pilot to surf the rings or something. Nice thing is, it isn’t leaving for another year. You can come play with DAEDALUS for a while and join up again when you get back.”

  “Thanks,” Shaila said, looking down at her hands, again at a loss for words.

  Diaz put a hand on her shoulder. “You know, Shaila, this whole thing is already being covered up huge. Very few people will ever know what you did out there. But those who do know are pretty high up there, and they’re really proud of you. You did so good.”

  Shaila nodded and tried to smile, but could not help but think that she hadn’t told anyone about the voices or visions she experienced in the cave. Doing so now could screw her chances of flying again. She wasn’t going to let that happen—in fact, the tears started coming as she contemplated losing out on that.