by S. J. Madill
Atwell glanced at the ship’s mechanical clock. 04:13. She leaned forward and poked the console with one finger. “Bridge here, this is Atwell. What're you doing up, Cho?”
He was speaking quickly, his voice at a slightly higher pitch. He sounded halfway between giddy and terrified. “Atwell, could you come down to the tech suite right away? I need to show you something.”
“On my way. Bridge out.”
Atwell gave a shrug to Roberts’ inquisitive look. “I have no idea what he wants,” she said. “Is Lee or the Chief up?”
“The Chief is always up,” came a voice from the bridge hatch. A freshly-pressed Chief Black stepped on to the bridge, stuffing something into her mouth and wiping the crumbs off her hands. She mumbled through pastry and icing sugar. “Did I miss something, sir?”
Atwell smiled broadly, shaking her head. “No, Chief. I’m glad you’re here. Cho just asked me to head down to the tech suite for a moment. The bridge is yours.”
Black nodded, chewing on her mouthful. “Aye aye, I have the bridge.” She wiped her hands on her pants, and walked over to the ship’s back counter. Black opened the log book, and started looking for the pen. She stopped, noting that Atwell was staring at her. “What?” she said defensively, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.
The Lieutenant began to blush, but laughed it off. “Nothing, Chief. Thanks.”
Black watched the officer leave the bridge, then picked up the ink pen and leaned over the log book. “Nice girl,” she whispered to herself. “Bit odd sometimes.”
-----
Atwell stepped into the tech suite, and found Cho alone at the rear terminal. He was almost beside himself with excitement. “Great,” he said. “You’re here. Thanks. You need to see this.”
“Okay,” she said, sitting down in the chair next to him. “What’s got you up in the middle of the night?”
Cho pointed to the screen, which showed some star maps. “It’s that thing you mentioned yesterday, after Planet Bob, about how nothing was in the right place. How both normal matter and dark energy were never where we expected them to be.”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “I vaguely remember saying that.”
Cho forged ahead. “Okay, so we’ve been mapping all the worlds we come across, and we’ve also been mapping the dark energy. We’ve been talking about how the nav computer insists it knows where we are, but nothing matches. So, I started with the assumption that the nav computer is correct.”
“Except everything is missing.”
“Well, yes and no.” He pointed to the screen. “See here? Computer said we were at the Palani homeworld. No world, but a big blob of dark energy that shouldn’t be there. Then we went to Planet Bob—”
“I can’t believe we called it that.”
“—and there shouldn’t have been a planet there, but there was. And there should have been a huge dark energy blob, and there wasn’t.”
“Yeah,” said Atwell, then she paused. “Uh oh.”
“Exactly!” said Cho. “See this map? This is our normal dark energy map, from our own neighbourhood.” He gestured at the screen. “That was where we found Planet Bob. This other map? That’s the planets and systems we’ve mapped since we arrived in this neighbourhood.” He slid a finger across the display, and one map was superimposed on the other.
“Wow,” said Atwell. “They match up pretty good.”
Cho quickly shook his head, pointing to a smaller window full of numbers. “Not just ‘pretty good’. Exact, perfect, a hundred percent, no exceptions.”
She leaned back a little, staring at Cho, her eyes widening. “So you mean—”
“So then,” he interrupted, “I did the same thing again, but the other way around. Compared the real-matter planets that should be here, with the dark energy we’ve mapped. Again, it’s perfect. Totally perfect.”
“Oh my God,” said Atwell. “You need to tell the Captain.”
Cho smiled. “No, Atwell. Look, we need to be working together. This came from your idea. It’s a team effort. We both tell everybody.”
-----
Dillon leaned back against the wall of the tech suite. “Okay, I clearly should've paid more attention in theoretical physics.”
Saparun put down his empty mug on the corner of a console. “I have heard this idea; it was one of numerous theories being proposed by Dosh physicists. Debate and experimentation have been ongoing for many years.” He smiled. “How amusing, to think I now know which theory is correct.”
Chief Black shook her head. “Sorry, sir. Someone please run it by me again?”
Cho looked at Saparun, who nodded and stepped forward. “As I understand it, Chief Black, the idea is this: the universe, as we know it, exists in the same place as a second universe. The two are superimposed on each other, and they leave shadows on each other. What we see as dark energy in our universe is actually the shadows of objects in the other universe. Likewise, all the stars and objects in our universe appear as dark energy shadows in theirs.”
“So,” said Black, “this is a real thing?”
“We don’t know,” said the Mechanic. “It is just one of many competing theories. But at the moment, it fits the available facts very well.”
The Captain rubbed his eyes. “Is it only based on mass? So, heavier stars make bigger shadows?”
Atwell shook her head. “Not just mass, sir, although that seems to be a big part of it. Some of the systems we’ve visited — particularly Planet Bob — appear as larger dark energy shadows than their mass would suggest. We’re wondering if the amount of jump activity plays a part. Planets, like Bob, where we assume a lot of jumping took place, have much larger shadows than expected.”
The Tassali was standing behind everyone else, quietly listening. “What do we do?” she asked.
Dillon glanced at her, then looked down at the maps on Cho’s terminal. “Okay,” he began. “In our home space, one of the largest dark energy concentrations is only a few light years from Earth. If this theory is correct, there must be a star system at the corresponding location in this universe, perhaps with a large mass and a lot of jump activity.”
“A homeworld,” said Cho.
“Yeah,” said the Captain. “A homeworld. And that’s where Project Fulcrum is being built.” He saw several confused faces. “A permanent jump gate.”
“What?” asked the Chief. The Tassali looked dumbfounded.
“Yes,” confirmed Dillon. “It’s real. The other end is on a big dark-energy blob near Dosh Horrin. It’s supposed to be a secret, but if we can’t get home then secrets won’t matter. I’m hoping the dark energy at that spot will allow us to make a jump with our available power, and maybe pop us through into normal space.”
“But,” said the Chief. “We still don't know how we got from normal space to here.”
Saparun looked at the Chief. “At Iralan, we made a jump at maximum power. As we entered the jump point, the pursuing cylinder fired a gravity wave at us.” His eyebrow ridge twitched. “It is my… best guess?”
“What happens,” said Amba, “if this permanent jump gate is activated?”
“I have no idea,” said the Captain.
“I do,” said Saparun. “The gate will probably function as expected, creating a tunnel through to Dosh Horrin. Or it might, if you will, ‘break through’ to this space we’re in now.”
Atwell raised one hand. “Right next to someone’s homeworld?”
Saparun nodded. “Possibly, yes.”
“The homeworld,” continued Atwell, “where we’re headed?”
“Yes,” said the Captain. He turned to Cho. “At current speed, how long to get there?”
“We’ll be in the neighbourhood in five days, sir.”
Dillon nodded. “Okay then, I’ll show you the exact location. You’ll set a course and get us headed that way. Sap?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“We’re going to want all our remaining capacitors fully charged, and our jump drive
tested and ready to go.”
“It will be done, Captain.”
“Right,” said Dillon, looking at the people standing around the tech suite. “This is our best bet so far. This is our most promising way to get home. All we have to do is fly into that system,” he pointed at the screen in front of Cho, “that corresponds to the Fulcrum site back in our own space. This system might very well be the homeworld of the cylinder ships, or the Horlan, or someone else. They might not like us showing up out of nowhere and starting to fire up a jump drive. So, everything on this ship that still works needs to be as good as we can make it, in five days. Any questions?”
The five other people in the suite were quiet, looking at each other or lost in their own thoughts.
“Okay,” he continued. “If anything comes up, don’t keep it to yourself. We’re all in this together. I’m going to go think of how to explain all this without sounding insane, and then I’ll tell the crew. Five days. Carry on, everyone.”
42
The hatch to Engineering closed behind Dillon. He paused to check the time display on his wrist; less than five minutes to go. As he walked down the corridor, he double-checked the seams on his pressure suit, and began to pull on his gloves.
Five days had gone by in the blink of an eye. The crew had jumped in with everything they had, working around the clock to get every system working and tested and retested. Someone had even managed to fix the ventilation fan in his ceiling, which warranted a medal, but no one would own up to it.
He’d been to every department and compartment on the ship, and had spoken to every member of the crew. No lengthy morale-boosting soliloquy, just a few brief words as he inspected their preparations. He mounted the steps and began to climb.
He came off the top of the stairs and walked calmly past the wardroom. Everything was stowed and secure, with no loose items to fly about if the ship moved suddenly. Particular care had been taken to protect the last few bottles from the wardroom’s liquor cabinet. He turned left and stepped through the bridge hatch.
“Captain on the bridge,” snapped the Chief. As one, the crew stood from their consoles, turning toward him and saluting. He stopped and looked at them. Unable to suppress a grin, he returned his very best parade-ground salute. “As you were,” he said.
As he climbed into his chair, a damage-control team came onto the bridge and began to check the crew’s pressure suits. Seaman Amoroso gave Dillon’s suit a quick once-over, then retired with a brief thumbs-up and a salute. Amoroso hesitated, but didn’t offer to check the form-fitting white suit of the Tassali, who stood next to the Captain’s chair. Dillon looked at her for a moment. “You all set?”
She nodded. “Yes, Captain.”
“Okay,” he said. He swung his chair to look toward the Chief and her bridge crew. “Chief of the ship, what is our status?”
“Sir,” she replied, “all departments and stations report ready. All bridge crew suits ready. The ship is good to go, sir.”
“Thank you, Chief. How long until we exit light speed?”
She didn’t even look at her terminal. “Fifteen seconds, Captain.”
“Very well. Let’s see what’s going on in the Fulcrum system.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Dillon leaned back in his chair, picking up his favourite pen. He watched the last few seconds tick by on the timer.
The engines suddenly relented, the deck giving the slightest quiver. With a feeling like a sigh, the Borealis dropped below light speed, coming to a halt inside the system. No planet appeared nearby; the system’s star and several of its planets were brilliant lights in the heavens around them.
“All stop,” said Dillon.
“All stop, aye,” replied the Chief. “We are inside the system, between planetary orbits. Hundreds of contacts so far, sir.”
Dillon nodded. “Okay,” he said as calmly as he could. “Show us what’s here.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The display over the front windows began to light up with information. It showed a star system, viewed from above, with the star in the centre and circles depicting the orbits of the planets. Dots marked the positions of the planets, the second of which was surrounded by clusters of contacts. A thin line of contact dots led away from the second planet, stretching to mid-system, where the line abruptly ended next to a question mark.
“Captain,” began the Chief, “second planet is the primary. Four thousand contacts, each a kilometre or greater, orbiting the planet. I see massive space stations, shipyards and other facilities. Dozens of satellites around the second planet, more around its moon as well as the other planets. Looks like a massive fleet is here. Something like two thousand cylinder ships, orbiting the second planet in rows. Some of them are moving, sir. Leaving their parking spots and headed in-system, in single file. They’re headed to an anomaly near the first planet, but our computer doesn’t know what the anomaly is.”
“I’ve got radio traffic!” said the communications tech.
“What?” said Dillon, leaning forward.
“Confirmed, sir,” said the tech. She stared at her console for a moment, concentrating on the sounds in her earpiece. She looked up at the Captain. “They’re ours, sir. It’s coming from that anomaly.”
A great weight formed in the pit of Dillon’s stomach. “Let’s hear it,” he said.
After a few long moments, the bridge was filled with voices. “— to Spruance, fall back to our position, over.”
“—Vikrant reporting: Viraat is disabled. We cannot hold our position—”
“—Achilles to second destroyer squadron: concentrate all fire on—”
“—Spruance to Corner Brook, we’ve lost all power—”
“—our guns are barely scratching these things—”
“—the Banting has left the system. All science vessels now accounted for—”
Dillon gestured to the Chief. The volume was turned down, and the voices faded into the background.
“Fulcrum,” said Amba behind him.
He nodded. “So, we’re at the worst-case scenario. The jump gate is already open, and the cylinders are going through. Chief, light times please?”
“Aye, sir,” she replied. “We are four light minutes from the second planet, and nine minutes from the anomaly, sir.”
“Okay,” he said. “So what we’re hearing is nine minutes old. On the up side, the defences on the home planet won’t see us for another four minutes or so. How many cylinders are headed toward the jump gate?”
“Four hundred underway, sir. They’re moving nice and orderly. A new one leaves its parking spot and starts to move every few seconds. About fifty look like they are trying to get underway but are having trouble. Some haven’t moved at all.” Chief Black looked up from her console, her face tense as she looked at Dillon. “Sir, there’s no way—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “If all two thousand cylinder ships go through there, they’d lay waste to everything. It sounds like it’s just some destroyer squadrons holding them off, but even the home fleets couldn’t…” he looked at the display. “What about the other ships parked around the planet? The big ones?”
“Aye sir,” nodded Black. “Only the cylinders are moving. There are… nine hundred and seventy-four larger ships. Different designs but similar to the cylinders, and they’re all just sitting there, orbiting the planet.”
Dillon glanced at Amba, then back at the display. “That’s their real battlefleet, I bet. The cylinders are just automated defences. Status of the planet?”
“Dead, sir. Plague was here.”
“Good god,” breathed Dillon. “All that massive fleet, and no one left to crew it. Only the automated cylinders are left to answer the call.”
“The call?” asked Amba.
Dillon nodded. “Yeah. Call to arms. Old expression.”
“Is someone actually calling?” she asked.
The Captain turned his head to look at her a moment. “Yeah,” he said pens
ively. “That’s a good question.” He turned his chair toward the Chief. “Any signals from the homeworld?”
The Chief nodded. “Aye, sir. A constant, digital signal from the homeworld. It’s very fast.”
“Okay,” said Dillon. He watched the display for a few moments, then slowly put the end of his pen into his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, listening to the faint, clipped broadcasts from human ships on the other side of the jump gate. “Damn it,” he said. “We can’t stop the cylinders. Our entire fleet can’t stop them.” He breathed in, speaking as he exhaled. “We have to get them to stop themselves.” He looked up at Chief Black. “Do me a favour, Chief? Find something on their homeworld that looks like a headquarters, or a command centre, or something.”
Chief Black gestured to the sensors technician, while she stepped over to the Captain. “Sir,” she said, through clenched teeth. “You’re not going down there—”
Dillon turned to her, nodding once. “I am.”
“For fuck’s sake Dillon…” she muttered, “…we’ve had this—”
He shook his head. “Not now, Chief. Not this one. I’m going. Ask Atwell to come up here and take the bridge. I want Sap and Cho, plus Lee and a full armed squad, to get suited up and ready to go on the double. Also, I need someone to go to my cabin and get my armour.”
“I will get it,” said Amba, walking quickly from the bridge. Dillon watched her go, then turned back to the Chief. She was frowning at him, her brow deeply furrowed. “We’ll have to get close,” she said.
“Yeah. Let’s go in nice and fast, drop the shuttle near their HQ as we go by, then Borealis keeps itself inconspicuous until we’re ready for a pickup. Or whatever.”
“Dillon, this is the homeworld of a civilisation more advanced than ours.”
“And they’re all dead, Chief. I’m betting only some automated defences are working. And even those haven’t been maintained in seven hundred years. I mean, once it’s out of warranty—”
