Before & Beyond

by Patrick Welch

Dr. Frunhomme grinned evilly. “I would suggest you have your mechanics fine-tune your equipment. It seems to be doing nothing for your common sense. Besides, you certainly don’t deserve your captainship. The only reason you have come this far is because the Stimulator force-fed you all your knowledge.”

  “The Stimulator allows me to retain what I have learned,” Baron replied tiredly. “It does not give me the knowledge, that I have to earn myself.”

  “I’ll tell you something...”

  “No, I’ll tell you something,” he retorted, standing. “My assignment is to investigate the incident at Station Ganymede. To assist you and Dr. Dru in every way I reasonably can. My crew and I do not have the time or patience to baby-sit a prima donna.”

  “He is no doctor!” Dr. Frunhomme turned red with rage.

  “I don’t care if he’s a janitor. Admiral Sharkey thinks he can help. More importantly, I think he can help. Now unless you have something to discuss that is relevant to this mission, I must ask you to leave. I have a lot of work to complete.”

  “I won’t forget this,” the scientist said as he left.

  I’m sure you won’t. Baron sighed and returned his attention to his reports.

  Thoran looked up when he heard the knock at his door. He had been carefully positioning the candelabra and its seven black candles, each made from the fat of a new-born calf slaughtered during a full moon. “I am quite busy. Who is it?”

  “Captain Baron,” came the muffled yet familiar voice.

  “A moment if you will.” Thoran threw the bones, dead spiders, and other tools of his trade hurriedly in a drawer; he let the candles be. “Please come in.” Dru greeted Baron with a hearty handshake as soon as he entered. “So nice of you to join me. It has been a very long time.”

  “Too long.” Baron glanced quickly around the small room. “I trust the accommodations are acceptable?”

  “It’s been several years since I’ve been off-world. I had forgotten how space can be a premium in space . A drink?” Dru poured then handed a glass of wine to Baron, he contented himself with fruit juice. He noted the red marks on his friend’s forehead. “Still using the Stimulator, I see.”

  “I have no choice. Not unless I want to spend my days in some institution. But,” he set his glass down, “I see you haven’t changed.”

  “Really?” Dru looked down at his expanding waist. “If you consider a lot less hair and a lot more weight status quo.”

  “I was referring to your unequaled ability to piss people off. You’ve lit quite a fire under Dr. Frunhomme.”

  “Unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

  Baron gazed at his old comrade. Actually Thoran had changed, and in manners beyond the physical. But how? Who are you, Thoran Dru? “He raised some valid objections, however. He claims you are a magician or alchemist or suchlike. Is that true? Thoran, why are you on this trip? Why would Admiral Sharkey want you here?”

  It was a fair question, Dru realized. How much can I tell him? How much will he believe? “Do you remember the Can we retrieved near Io?”

  Baron nodded. “That’s one of the reasons I was assigned to this trip. Although as yet I find it irrelevant. I assume you do not.”

  “Something happened that I didn’t tell you about. Perhaps now is the time.”

  Baron sat silent after he finished. “Now I understand why Dr. Frunhomme was so upset,” he began after collecting his thoughts. “Frankly, so am I. You want me to deal with whatever we’re dealing with with magic?”

  “Not magic. Alchemy. It is as much a science as any other, even if its guiding principles and precepts are different.” Dru’s voice grew cold. “Believe me, John, I hope I am wrong. I hope that was just a hallucination I experienced 15 years ago. But if I am not, then we are in serious danger.”

  Baron finished his wine. “I confess, Thoran, that I agree with the doctor. I would not have you on this mission, either. However, I have my orders, which I shall obey. We should reach Station Ganymede in one more day. Or whatever is left of it. I suggest you stay out of Dr. Frunhomme’s way during the interim.”

  “I plan to. His dialogue is tiring and his chess game unimaginative. I have plenty of preparations to complete anyway.”

  Baron gnawed on a fingernail as he walked down the hall, a habit he adopted unconsciously when troubled. Thoran Dru an alchemist! At least he could now appreciate the scientist’s anger. Why had Admiral Sharkey insisted Dru be on this mission? He would have some questions of his own for his superior when he returned.

  Dru sighed heavily after Baron left. He understood his old friend’s predicament perfectly. He would feel the same if it wasn’t for what he had learned in the ancient and forbidding Tsa Zhayn monastery in Tibet, at the hidden sacrificial altar deep within Chichén Itzá, at the unholy obeah ceremonies in the Louisiana bayous, inside the burial cavern of Liu Wu in China’s Lion Mountain, during the ceremony of the White Bear atop the Black Hills of South Dakota and so many more sacred and profane locales.

  He hated lying to his old friend, but it was necessary. For in truth he was on this mission under false pretenses. Admiral Sharkey would have never allowed him on this voyage, in truth if he had ever heard of Thoran Dru. Dru had been forced to visit the admiral during a dreamwalk, planting his orders deep within the sleeping man’s subconscious. Sometimes, Dru admitted, the ends justified the means.

  Dru had lied to Dr. Frunhomme as well. He was an alchemist but he was much more than that. His other, more arcane talents would be required on this mission. He reached in the desk and pulled out the grimoire of Crispian Peters. Dru rubbed its surface, covered with tanned human skin and etched with ancient runes. He had found it in the Caspian Mountains, hidden in the vault of a crumbling castle rumored to have once been owned by a vampire. The truth, he knew, was more terrifying.

  He turned to the chapter on demonic evocation and eviction. There was a rift between dimensions, he was convinced of it. The gargoyles were only the vanguard for even more ferocious demons which could soon emerge. Unless he could close it first. He began to read.

  “We should arrive at the station within half an hour, Captain,” the navigator said.

  “Good. Have we received any messages from Ganymede?”

  “No, sir,” said the communications operator. “No communications since before we left.”

  Baron frowned as he prowled the operations center. What has happened at Ganymede? What were they going to find? A natural disaster? Sabotage? Or an attack by another space-faring race? He prayed he would not need to use his armament. “Where are Dr. Frunhomme and Dr. Dru?” he asked a lieutenant.

  “Dr. Frunhomme is in the lounge, Dr. Dru is in his stateroom.”

  “Tell them both we will be arriving within the hour. They should both join us on the bridge.”

  The lieutenant saluted and left. Baron took his captain’s seat and sighed; he was not looking forward to having the two together, but, thanks to the admiral, he had no choice. “Time you two earned your keep,” he said under his breath.

  Dr. Frunhomme appeared five minutes later. “Where is Dr. Dru?” Baron asked his lieutenant.

  “He said he would be here in about ten minutes. The doctor had some preparations to complete.”

  “Do not refer to that charlatan as a doctor!” the scientist raged. “He has no right to be on this mission and certainly no reason to be on the bridge!”

  “Now play nice, Dr. Frunhomme,” Baron admonished him gently. “We’ve discussed this issue before.”

  Dr. Frunhomme glared at the mongoloid, then reconsidered. “What have you found so far?”

  “No communications. We’re still too far away to pick up anything on our sensors.”

  “Have the probes been released?”

  Baron glanced at his science officer. “We’ve been waiting for your instructions, sir,” Marinovich responded, pointedly omitting his title.

  Dr. Frunhomme bit his tongue. “Release them.” He sat down heavily in the chair next to Baron. “No co
mmunications?”

  Baron shook his head. “No signals or signs from any transport ships either. I do not like this, Dr. Frunhomme.”

  The scientist nodded grimly, his fingers dancing mindlessly across the computer console in front of him. “Are we still going at maximum?”

  “Of course.”

  “We might want to back it off a bit. We have no idea what we’re barging in on.”

  Baron frowned. “Time is of the essence. I feel confident with our weaponry. If there are any survivors ...”

  “The chance of survivors are minimal at best.” Dr. Frunhomme glared at the captain. “If this is indeed some type of assault we need to protect ourselves. The purpose of this mission is to obtain information and return. Intact. Save the cowboy crap for another time.”

  Baron was preparing a retort when Thoran Dru entered. He appeared exhausted, as if he had not slept in two days. In truth he hadn’t. “Dr. Dru, glad you could join us.” He glanced at the scientist and repressed a grin as he noticed the man’s stifled rage.

  Dru stood beside the captain. “When will we arrive?”

  “We could be there in less than twenty minutes if we maintain our current speed. Dr. Frunhomme has suggested, however, that we approach more cautiously.” He made no attempt to disguise his sarcasm.

  Dru sighed. “I concur. If what I suspect is correct, an hour or so will make no difference.”

  “And what do you suspect?” Dr. Frunhomme could no longer control his anger. Then he looked at Baron. “Does he have to be up here?”

  “As I’ve said before, you can take your complaints directly to Admiral Sharkey when we return,” Baron said heavily. “Helmsman, cut our power to half.” He ignored the questioning stares of his crew even as he understood their resentment. Some of the men and women on the station were classmates, friends, at the least fellow members of the military. He and his crew were honor-bound to do everything they could to rescue them. But his orders were clear as well, the scientist had to be accommodated.

  “Sir, we’ve just received a signal from one of our probes.”

  Dr. Frunhomme looked at the science officer. “What has it told us?”

  “Very little. The signal didn’t last long enough.”

  Baron frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She threw up her hands. “I mean it didn’t last long enough. We made contact and then almost immediately the transmission stopped.”

  Dr. Frunhomme rose. “Was it jammed?”

  “They destroyed it more likely,” Dru said under his breath.

  Dr. Frunhomme glared at Dru. “What are you talking about? Those probes are designed to study Jupiter, Saturn.”

  “I told you what they did to the Can.” Dru shrugged. “They did the same to the probe. I doubt you would have learned much in any event. Your sensors aren’t designed for them.”

  Dr. Frunhomme looked around the control center. Most of the crewmen were listening, curious. “My esteemed colleague,” he motioned mockingly toward Dru, “believes the space station is under attack from gargoyles.”

  “I hope I am wrong,” Dru offered in mild defense.

  “I told you he doesn’t belong on this mission. He especially doesn’t belong up here!” Dr. Frunhomme folded his arms and smiled smugly at Baron.

  “Sir,” Marinovich broke the embarrassed silence, “a visual signal is coming in from another probe.”

  “Good. Put it on the screen,” Baron ordered, relieved for the diversion.

  The low hum of conversations ceased as the camera broadcast appeared overhead. In the middle of the screen the space station Ganymede hovered. Around it floated bits of wreckage, sections of the great radial arms that had been ripped apart, parts of a radio telescope, a supply pod. But that was not what brought the gasps from the officers.

  “What are those?” Dr. Frunhomme asked in wonderment, staring at the creatures which were crawling around the outside of the edifice. “What are they doing?”

  Thoran Dru chilled as he viewed the destruction before him. “I was right,” he said softly.

  “Zoom in,” ordered Baron.

  As the magnification grew, the crew could see there were indeed creatures crawling across the outside of the station. Noticing the probe, one detached itself and came closer to investigate. The camera focused on a creature the size of a English sheepdog, but with gaping jaws, pointed ears, bulging eyes, giant leathery wings and sweeping tail. It seemed to grin as two powerful, clawed arms reached out. Then the signal went dead.

  “Creatures that can live in space,” Dr. Frunhomme said, stunned. “I cannot believe it possible. But, how can they fly? There is no air to provide resistance. How can they fly?”

  “They are not bound by the laws of our universe,” Dru said sadly.

  “We have to capture one,” the scientist demanded.

  “We have to destroy them,” Baron returned. “After what they’ve done to that station, what they did to that probe.”

  The scientist shook his head vehemently. “They are too valuable. What we could learn.” Dr. Frunhomme faded off as he allowed himself to consider the repercussions: a new species named by and after him, the scientific accolades and prizes which would follow. “We have to get closer, we have to capture one!”

  Baron looked at Dru. At least he had been correct about living creatures in space. What else is he correct about? “What is your opinion, doctor?”

  He frowned. “These are the same creatures that destroyed the Can years ago. There is nothing on this ship strong enough to contain one.”

  Dr. Frunhomme glared at Dru. “I am in charge on this mission, doctor. Remember that. Yours is an advisory capacity, only. And I certainly do not want your advice.” He looked at Baron. “We must capture one of them. Marinovich, what other readings did the probe send? Spectroanalysis. Magnetic. Thermal. Anything.”

  The science officer frowned. “Our readings registered the space station, of course. But the creatures did not register at all. Except on the video.”

  “That’s impossible! There has to be something. Our instruments cannot be malfunctioning. We can’t all be experiencing a mass hallucination.” He looked at Baron. “We have to get closer.”

  “I do not want put my ship in danger. But I cannot allow whatever those are to attack elsewhere. Helmsman, go to one-eighth power. Arm all weapons.”

  “You must excuse me,” Dru told Baron. “I can do nothing more here.”

  Baron frowned but finally nodded.

  “Good riddance,” Dr. Frunhomme offered as Dru hurried out of the command center.

  Thoran Dru went directly to his quarters, locking his door securely behind him. Once the gargoyles saw their ship, they would attack. And there were no weapons that could protect them. Except his.

  He had spent the last two days making final preparations. The pentagram was drawn, the spells memorized, his arsenal ready. First he lit the black candles, speaking an arcane phrase over each. As he set the timer for his tape recorder, he had to admit there were some advantages in practicing magic in the scientific age. Normally at least one assistant would be required, but thanks to modern technology, he would be able to perform the ceremony by himself. Of course, if there was an accident--a power outage perhaps--there would be no one nearby to bring him back.

  The rest of his tools were at the recently-unpacked suspension chamber, the cross, the caul from the seventh son of a seventh son, the goat’s foot, a cup of his own blood, freshly drawn. The last he had used to sketch the pentagram on the table. Dru stood in front of a mirror and, again using his own blood, drew runes on his nude body while the tape recorder recited his voice in the background. Next he ingested the potion - an extract of black widow venom, wolfsbane and swamp hellbore. An interesting combination, he though as he forced down the bitter potion. A poison, a stimulant and a cardiac depressant: a concoction similar to that used by voodoo priests to induce zombieism. In combination with the suspension chamber, he would be brought to a flatline state. Only
then could he enter the other dimensions... and the battle would truly begin.

  For that had always been the purpose of the human sacrifice: the fleeting soul opened the doorway between the worlds, allowing the shaman or magicians to communicate and interact with those existing in the other realms. With the suspension chamber, he would be able to do it by himself. If he was fortunate, he may even be able to return.

  The tape recorder continued reciting the necessary spells as he clambered into the chamber, one, he thought, that was uncomfortably like a coffin. He could feel the effects of the drugs as he positioned the caul over his face. The chamber, also computer-controlled, closed and he could faintly feel the temperature dropping. If he was successful, the chamber would revive him in fifteen minutes. If not, then he would have enjoyed a more comfortable death than the crew. Because Dru was certain none of their weaponry would be effective against the demons outside.

  “What do you mean, you are receiving no other readings?” Dr. Frunhomme glared at the science officer.

  She bit her tongue as she looked at the input from the third probe. “Sir, the only thing we are picking up is wreckage from the station. There are no radiation readings, radio waves, spectral readings, thermal readings or anything else that cannot be attributed solely to Station Ganymede.”

  “What kind of incompetency are they teaching at the Academy these days?” He pushed her out of the way and bent over the control panel. “This is insane,” he said after studying the instruments. “There must be something wrong with your equipment.”

  “I have complete confidence in my officers, especially officer Marinovich,” Baron barked sharply. “Please, doctor, conduct yourself in a professional manner.” Then he looked up at the screen. They were now close enough where their on-board cameras could pick up the catastrophe. At this distance the station reminded him of a piece of candy covered with ants. There had to be thousands of the creatures attacking the station. “Magnify.”

  The image grew. Now they could clearly see the creatures swarming the station. Gaping, ragged holes on the station were everywhere. Most of the exterior devices - antennas, telescopes, storage pods - had been ripped away and orbited forlornly near the larger craft. Below it a shuttle drifted, powerless. Someone had tried to escape, but the creatures had attacked that as well.