by Tim Waggoner
“I have no explanation for why our calculations were off, Gerhard, but they were. And if we don’t do something about it soon, the gravitational forces will tear the Janus apart.”
As if on cue, the ship began to shudder as it struggled to break free of the tidal forces pulling at it.
“That’s why you activated the engines,” Kyoto said. “So we could escape the gravity field.”
“It will only delay the inevitable,” Mudo said. “We have been captured by the combined gravitational pull of our entire system’s mass shadow, and there’s no way to free ourselves. The Janus is doomed, and so are we.”
“I refuse to believe that, even if it’s true,” Kyoto said. “There’s a reason why they call it defeatist thinking—it always leads to defeat. How long do we have, Memory?”
“If we continue running the fusion engines at full thrust, approximately five minutes. If the engines overheat and fail—less than five seconds.”
“Then let’s hope the engines hold up,” Kyoto said. “Let’s try to think this through. First off, what’s a mass shadow?”
Mudo’s tone was that of an adult humoring a child. “Stars and planets in our universe cast gravitational reflections in hyperspace called mass shadows. And because hyperspace is much smaller than realspace, celestial bodies that are light years apart in our universe are much closer here. Thus, the sun and all the planets in our system create a single combined mass shadow. I—with Memory’s able assistance—calculated an entry point into hyperspace that would allow us to emerge between the smaller, individual mass shadows of the planets, a place where the gravitational fields are precisely balanced and cancel each other out.
“But for some unknown reason, that didn’t happen, and now the Janus is caught in what is essentially the gravitational field of the entire solar system. The ship’s engines can keep us alive for a few minutes, but they can’t break us free. I doubt there’s any ship in the universe powerful enough to do that.”
Despite what she’d said earlier about defeatist thinking, Kyoto had to admit to herself that escape sounded impossible. “Memory, do you have any ideas?”
“I’ve been working on the problem as fast as I can, Mei, and I can think very fast indeed. In human terms, I’ve already spent the equivalent of a century trying to develop of method of breaking free from the mass shadow, but so far I’ve met with no success.”
This was bad. If Memory couldn’t figure out a solution, what hope did the rest of them—with their limited human brains—have?
Suddenly, Aspen, who up to then had been silently listening, let out a long sigh. “It’s a good thing I decided to come along.” She released her seat restraints and stood. “If I could sit at the control console for a moment?”
At first, Kyoto thought the fear of imminent death had gotten to Aspen, but the woman’s voice was so calm, so assured, and her eyes shone with an intelligence that Kyoto had never seen there before.
Suddenly, Aspen’s recent atypical behavior made sense.
“You’re Hastimukah, aren’t you?”
Aspen smiled. “Well done, Commander. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see what I can do to save our lives.”
Kyoto was reluctant to move away from the ship’s controls. While Hastimukah came from an advanced society that understood hyperspace far better than humans, he’d also shown himself to be a master of deceit. Could she afford to trust him with their lives as well as the success of their mission? Could she afford not to?
Mudo gaped at Hastimukah’s current form. “This is the alien that contacted you, Kyoto? The one you said looked like Seth Ganymede?” Mudo looked Hastimukah up and down. “Your people could make a fortune in cosmetic surgery.”
“Two minutes left, Mei,” Memory said.
Kyoto undid her seat harness and got up. “It’s all yours,” she said to Hastimukah. “But whatever you’ve got in mind, you’d better do it fast.”
Hastimukah didn’t waste time replying. He quickly climbed into the pilot’s seat and placed both his hands on the control panel. As Kyoto and Mudo watched, a gray substance oozed from his fingers, gathered in a small pool on the panel, and then sank through the plasteel surface without leaving a mark.
“Nanotech?” Mudo said, sounding impressed.
Hastimukah nodded. “It is the basis for all technology in the Residuum—including our hyperspace navigation systems. If the nanoparticles I released can upgrade your AI in time, we just might be able to survive. If not…” Hastimukah smiled. “At least our end shall be quick.”
“Small comfort,” Kyoto said. She looked at Mudo to gauge his reaction to what Hastimukah had done. The scientist was looking at the control panel with concern. Kyoto wondered if it had something to do with Memory’s earlier problem after being affected by the hyperetheric radiation, coupled with Hastimukah’s “upgrade.” But now wasn’t the time to ask. Besides, if Hastimukah’s nanoparticles didn’t work, the matter would become completely irrelevant, seeing as how they’d all be dead.
Kyoto had faced death numerous times as a fighter pilot, but she’d always been in control then. Somehow, that had made it easier. If she’d died, at least she would have known that she’d done all she could to survive. But now, standing by, with nothing to do but watch and wait for alien technology to finish doing its work, was worse than anything she’d experienced since the Manti had brought down her family’s cargo ship.
“Oh.” Memory’s voice came over the cockpit speaker once more. “It’s so obvious. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Mei, I’m going to need complete control of the ship for several minutes. Do you mind?”
“Uh… no, of course not.”
“Thank you. You’d better sit down and strap yourself in, Mei. This may start off a little bumpy.”
Hastimukah got up from the pilot’s seat and moved past Kyoto to return to his own. They both sat and rebuckled their restraints.
“We’re ready,” Kyoto said.
“Hold tight, everyone.”
The fusion drive shut off, and the Janus shot toward the mass shadow like a stretched-tight rubber band that had just had its tension released. The inertial dampeners screamed as they tried to compensate for the sudden acceleration. The Janus’s crew was thrown forward against their restraint harnesses, and then as the ID fields adjusted, they were slammed back into their seats. The Janus tossed and turned like a child’s antigrav toy caught in a full-force Martian windstorm. Cockpit lights flickered, and the holoscreen cut in and out. The air seemed suddenly hot and stale, and Kyoto feared life support was offline.
“You idiots!” Mudo shouted. “You’ve killed us all!”
But above the sound of the straining inertial dampeners, Kyoto could hear the sound of thrusters firing. She brought up ship’s systems controls on the wavering holoscreen and saw that Memory was firing the Janus’s thrusters—all of them, including the maglev boosters—in a rotating pattern of short, rapid bursts.
A new display appeared on the screen then, put there by Memory, no doubt. It showed a complex series of interlocking and overlapping lines that Kyoto had never seen before and had no idea how to read.
“Excellent!” Hastimukah said. “That’s a shadowpath readout. Now, if Memory can get us onto one of the paths before the mass shadow’s gravity tears us apart…”
A few more seconds passed, and then Hastimukah pointed with one of Aspen’s long, slender, impeccably manicured fingers. “There!”
On one of the lines, a small icon representing the Janus appeared. At once, the inertial dampeners powered down and the ship stopped shaking. The air grew fresh once more as life support returned to normal levels.
“You can all relax,” Memory said. “We’re on a shadowpath now and doing fine.”
Kyoto let out a relieved breath and turned to look at Hastimukah, “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, but to be honest, I had no idea whether it would work. Each nanoparticle contains complete schematics for all possible
design functions, much as biological cells do before they specialize. But I didn’t know whether they could interface with your more… basic technology.”
Mudo made a face. “You mean more primitive, don’t you?”
“Please, there’s no need to get defensive, Doctor. Your technology is quite impressive given your species’ level of development—especially when you consider that you’ve had to fight off two separate Manti swarms.”
“There, Gerhard. That should reassure your threatened ego.”
“Oh, be quiet.” But Mudo did indeed seem happier now.
“I get that we avoided certain death and are, for the moment at least, safe,” Kyoto said, “but would one of you mind explaining it simply?”
“I did what Gerhard had planned all along, only in a far more sophisticated manner—thanks to the hardware and programming additions given to me by the Residuum nanoparticles,” Memory said. “Shadowpaths exist in the space between mass shadows. They are places where the gravity fields nullify each other, permitting safe passage for starcraft. The big trick is finding these paths, since compared to our universe—which is primarily empty—hyperspace, being far more compact, is in a sense mostly full.”
“That’s why it’s always been so difficult to establish stable stargates,” Mudo added. “You have to locate a space on one of these so-called shadowpaths to jump through.”
“The paths are so narrow, and there’s so much spatial distortion from mass shadows in hyperspace, that’s it’s almost impossible for our sensors to locate them,” Memory said. “But thanks to Hastimukah and his little friends, my sensors are now both sophisticated and sensitive enough to do the job. In short, I now have the capability to maneuver us safely and easily through hyperspace.”
Kyoto looked at Hastimukah. “Is this how Residuum ships travel through hyperspace?”
“Yes, but only when necessary. We prefer to make short jumps through shadowpaths so we do not attract the Manti’s attention. Jumping takes longer than continual travel through hyperspace, but it holds far fewer hazards as well.”
Kyoto shook her head. “This is all a bit much for a dumb pilot like me to understand.”
“You’re hardly dumb,” Hastimukah said. “After all, you saw through my latest disguise with relative ease.”
“That’s no great accomplishment,” Kyoto said with a grin. “You just didn’t act haughty or prissy enough.”
“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to pass as Ms. DeFonesca for long. I had little time to study her personality and mannerisms. But the masquerade accomplished its purpose. It got me aboard the Janus without arousing suspicion before liftoff.”
“So where is Ms. DeFonesca?” Mudo asked.
“Sleeping in her home, just as Ganymede was before your GSA Security officers discovered him last night. You have my word that she will eventually awaken, well and unharmed.”
When Kyoto had first reported to the GSA hangar, she’d learned that Ganymede had been brought in for questioning. It hadn’t taken General Adams and the medtechs long to confirm that he was the real Seth Ganymede and not Hastimukah. The poor man had been confused and frightened, not to mention upset over having had his identity stolen. And now the same thing had happened to Aspen DeFonesca, but somehow Kyoto couldn’t feel sorry for her. The Colonies could use a break from her for a while.
“Why was it so important that you come along on this trip?” Kyoto asked.
Hastimukah hesitated a moment before answering, and Kyoto suspected he was lying, or at least not telling them the entire truth.
“Part of my mission is to establish a case for why your race is qualified for full-fledged membership in the Residuum. The level of your technology—and how you employ it—is one of the factors I must consider. For that reason, I felt it was important to see the Janus at work for myself. I knew it was a risk, but it was one I was more than willing to take. I believe wholeheartedly in what I do, and while I desire to bring new races into the Residuum, I want to make certain they are truly ready.”
“Sounds logical enough,” Mudo said.
And it did, Kyoto thought. On the surface, at least. But she knew better than to trust surface appearances when it came to Hastimukah.
“Well, we’ve proven your hyperdrive works, Dr. Mudo,” Kyoto said. “And thanks to Hastimukah’s nanotech, we can maneuver in hyperspace as well. Should we return to realspace and report to General Adams? He might well want to begin producing hyperdrives for the GSA’s ships as an additional weapon against the Manti. Or should we remain here for a while and do some reconnoitering?”
Mudo didn’t think long about his answer, which came as no surprise to Kyoto.
“There’s a wealth of knowledge to be gained by staying here,” the scientist said. “For a time, at least. While the hyperdrive will certainly help us defend ourselves against the Manti, if we can learn more about the aliens themselves—perhaps even discover the location of their homeworld—we might gain the advantage we need to defeat them once and for all.”
“But Hastimukah can tell us everything his people have learned about hyperspace and the Manti, and we can start putting that knowledge to work today. And we have more than a functional hyperdrive to take back to the Colonies. We have the nanotech he added to Memory. Once we learn how to use it—”
Hastimukah interrupted. “I must insist that you make no attempt to procure Residuum technology for your own use until and unless your species becomes a member. I gave Memory the nanoparticles because there was no other choice if we were to survive. Because she is a self-aware intelligence, even if an artificial one, I’d prefer not to take back what I have given to her, but I will if I have to. It’s my duty. I hope you understand.”
“We all have our duty,” Kyoto said evasively. She hoped it wouldn’t come down to it, but if she had to steal Hastimukah’s nanotech to defend the Solar Colonies, then she would. “But right now I can’t handle listening to your words coming out of Aspen’s face. Can’t you drop your disguise now?”
“It would take several hours to reshape my outer appearance, and I would need to rest most of that time. For now, I’m afraid you’ll just have to overlook my resemblance to Ms. DeFonesca.”
“I’ll try,” Kyoto said. “But it’s not going to be easy. But I have another question for you: how did you know about the Janus and its flight? Let alone that Aspen had managed to force herself on us.”
“It’s obvious,” Mudo said before Hastimukah could answer. “He spied on us, most likely using some of those nanoparticles of his. My guess would be that he deposited some on you during your conversation in the arboretum.”
Shocked, Kyoto turned to Hastimukah. “Is that true?”
“Yes, but do not fear. The nanoparticles did not enter your body. They remained on your skin—on your forehead, to be precise. Their only purpose is observation.”
Kyoto felt violated. If the nanoparticles could change Hastimukah’s appearance and upgrade Memory, what could they have done to her? Given how powerful and versatile they were, what couldn’t they have done?
“Take them back,” Kyoto said. “Now.”
“As you wish.” Hastimukah touchd his fingers to Kyoto’s forehead, and tiny gray globules formed on her skin and rolled onto his fingertips, where they were absorbed into his skin. “It is done.”
“And you took them all back?” Kyoto asked.
“Of course. Their task is completed, and I have no further need of them. I apologize for what I did, but I assure you it was most necessary. One of my colleagues in the Residuum wanted to declare our mission over and return home, but I insisted on staying. I truly believe humanity is ready to join us, but my belief isn’t enough. I have to build the strongest case for membership as quickly as I can, for once you belong to the Residuum, we can help you against the Manti.”
“Why should it matter whether or not we’re members before you decide to help?” Kyoto asked.
Hastimukah looked suddenly uncomfortable. “There are those i
n the Residuum who take a hard line when it comes to admitting new members. They believe that if a race is to add to our combined chances for survival, they must first be able to take care of themselves. These hardliners believe that if a race cannot defeat the Manti on its own, then…”
“It doesn’t deserve to survive, let alone join the Residuum,” Mudo said. “How Darwinian.”
“Not all of us think that way,” Hastimukah said, “but unfortunately far too many do. So you can see why I must make a strong case if I am to help your species.”
Kyoto looked at Hastimukah, trying to see beyond his current disguise to the being underneath. How could she trust him after everything he’d done? Yes, he’d just saved their lives, but he had been in danger, too. Besides, no matter what he looked like, he was an alien, with alien ways of thinking and alien motivations.
“I can think of nothing else to say that might reassure you,” Hastimukah said, “other than to give you my word that I shall conceal nothing from any of you from this moment forward.”
Kyoto thought for a moment. “I guess in the end, that’s what trust always comes down to: accepting someone’s word. What the hell? It’s not like any of us has a real choice right now, so let’s just agree to trust one another and get on with the mission, okay?”
“Agreed,” Hastimukah said, smiling.
“Dr. Mudo? Memory?”
“Agreed.”
“I agree as well, but I have another question.” Mudo turned to Hastimukah. “Kyoto said that you’re male.”
“Yes.”
“If that’s true, then exactly how far did you take your bodily reconstruction? Did you remove… you know, your—”
“I hate to interrupt, especially when Gerhard’s in the middle of making a fool of himself, but I’ve determined why we were unexpectedly caught in a gravity field when we first arrived. Remember how Rhea disappeared from our star system? Well, I’ve found it.”
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
“General? We’re receiving a comlink signal.”
