by Greg Remy
“No, sorry.”
Zoe continued typing and soon another alert went off. She instantly wiped all windows clean and yanked the lightcard from the console. She sighed. “Well, the information seems to be stored locally. Makes sense I suppose.” Zoe drummed her fingers on the armrest. “We can try to pick it up from somewhere local, upload the information tied to their internal servers. I bet one of their larger subsidiaries would have access.”
“I have concerns,” said Darious, “but Zoe, I agreed to join you down the hole for lagomorphs.” He nodded courteously to her, stood up and resumed his own seat.
“No worries. We will be quick.”
Zoe compiled a short list of major Pantheon extensions nearby them. “Bingo. They have a wholly-owned industrial zone not too far off. Skipper, change course! We’ve got some huntin’ to do!” She shot the coordinates over to Darious’ console.
“Aye captain!” he affirmed, with a hint of excited zeal in his voice.
Zoe observed him as he carefully input the new destination into the ship’s computer, just as she had shown him, and approved of his work. The ship made an elegant sweep toward its new objective, powered on by its meteoric rockets.
Zoe looked out at the stars. That was a dirty hack, she thought. And nothing to show for it. What was it about the cat? Curiosity killed the cat. Well, that was until Schrödinger came along. So maybe they had a chance. That was the funny thing about the fundamental laws of physics—it basically boiled down to luck.
Chapter 9
Signs Point to a Mild, Yet Abrupt Spring
“That is a small planet we are headed toward. Is it some sort of free-roaming dwarf?” asked Darious as the ship neared the yellowed spheroid. “There are no stars in vicinity and it is certainly not part of any solar system.”
“Sort of,” Zoe replied, “It’s been artificially grown. One of dozens in this sector. It’s more of a factory than a planet. Notice the exhaust at the southern pole?”
“Yes! I do see it! Is it a factory in its entirety? Massive.”
Black plumes puffed from planet’s bottom, dissipating as they reached the edge of the atmosphere. Darious leaned in, squinting his eyes, so Zoe brought up a window that mimicked their view and zoomed in at the base of the plumes, revealing monstrous smoke stacks.
“Alright,” said Zoe “I’m inputting landing coordinates now. See that the craft lands safely. I’ve gotta prepare some things.” She went to the ship’s main cabin and began shuffling through compartments as Darious took control of the helm. She prepared a small sack with supplies and soon reentered the cockpit. Leaning over the captain’s chair, she put a hand on Darious’ shoulder. “What’s the damage capt’n?” she said playfully. Darious turned to her with an expression searching of hers, and she smirked, prompting a blank expression from him. He turned and refocused on his task.
Down went the craft. The thick miasma of the planet whipped at the heat dissipaters on the bow of the ship, making for a slightly rocky descent as the ship worked its best to disperse the energy. Darious was constantly adjusting a plethora of landing parameters, though despite his best efforts, Zoe had to put both arms around the captain’s seat. Through syrupy clouds of pollution, the ground slowly became perceivable. Grays from building tops sketched into view and spotted citrines and browns were strewn throughout the landscape to the horizon. The mock planetoid looked sickly. It coughed a deep black cough from its deepest bowels and its skin was flecked with some sporelating pathosis; it was forsaken—alone to suffer its corruptible disease away from its natural, healthy kin. Up came the ground warnings.
“Okay Darious, steady,” said Zoe. With a slight nod, though not taking his eyes from the controls, Darioius continued typing, priming all systems for landing. The craft took several drops as uncorrected turbulence overtook the dampeners. Zoe increased her grip on the chair. “Easy now.” The ship was descending sluggishly, with its underside nearly parallel to the ground and its landing thrusters firing spasmodically as Darious maintained a rough balance. Not the way Zoe would have done it, but to each his own. She was accustomed to coming in like a lion, and going out, well, also like a lion.
Zoe could see sweat forming on Darious’ forehead. “You have this. Oh, look, just over there.”
The virtual monitor had marked the landing station which was soon visible through the cockpit window. Several ships were at the port, some were landing, others taking off, and a few seemed to have been docked for quite a while. Overall, noted Zoe, not an overly busy day. It was a fine day for a new pilot to land an interstellar spacecraft. The computer indicated the particular landing pad which the control tower had designated for Zoe’s ship.
With a loud thud, and a low bending of its alloyed knees, the ship came to its final resting position. Pressure exhaust motors initialized, signifying a successful, albeit hard, landing. Zoe patted Darious on the back. “Not bad! Come on, let’s get the lowdown on what’s up.”
The two exited the craft and were instantly greeted by the stench of burning oils and waste. Shades of grays and yellows stained every wall of every building; the terrain was stewing in its own filth. Darious’ initial breath led to him cough several times. “I’d advise against breathing here,” Zoe bantered.
Above the tarnished structures, Zoe noticed several high-rise highway tubes in the distance transporting heavy machinery. Nearer, podways connected every building and many converged to the largest—an off-white tower, beginning as a smooth sloping structure, pleasing to the eye and topped by an obdurate cube with uniformly placed windows. That must be the central hub, thought Zoe. For their purpose, it would be a good access point.
Their landing pad was one of many. Each was slightly elevated, circular, and connected to a railed podway. Zoe and Darious stepped into an awaiting pod. It noiselessly closed its doors behind them and swooshed onwards to the towering main station. Zoe motioned for Darious to look back at the port they were rapidly receding from.
“Did you notice the entire port resembles a 2D grape bushel? And guess what—that is on purpose. Many ports throughout the galaxy have such a design. Random as the distribution of grapes may seem, they are not.” With her index fingers, she outlined a group of circles as she spoke. “Nature has found a particular fractal-based algorithm where each singular berry of an entire branch has the opportunity to have a complimenting amount of light—space for outgoing and incoming flights—and a proportional lifeline to the ground—distance to the main station.” She paused for dramatic effect, but saw no awe in his eyes and so continued, “The algorithm, a very delicious one,” she smirked, “has aided in both fruitful endeavors of nature, and of society. Stations such as this, are allowed to remain compact and efficient. This same algorithm is also utilized for shipping, manufacturing, raw material production, and even to guide some educational programs of students.” Darious seemed now a bit impressed, but not to the point of physical excitement.
He asked, “And what about raspberries?” Before Zoe could answer, the pod reached the inner station and the door opened with a chime.
“Ah, here we are.” She scooted Darious out first. The pair was welcomed by a grand sight from the central interior of the tower. Pseudo-timber arches extended out from white polished floors, stained in places with yellow like the rest of the planet. They arced twenty stories high, curving sharply and coming back down again. They reminded Zoe of pictures she had seen of cathedrals, but somehow, they were missing that ethereal quality. To Zoe, this place reeked of the self-imposed sanctity to which the business-world assigns to its purposes, in addition to its many unidentifiable foul odors.
Darious was turning in circles, his mouth open and eyes dazzling. Zoe looked around herself and saw byways leading to many other pods and out and away from the building. She spotted a control console at the leading edge of a nearby beam. She motioned to Darious as she repositioned the backpack upon her shoulder.
When Zoe accessed the screen, a motion graphic of the ‘Millipede Man
ufacturing Company’ zoomed into view and then flew off. “Welcome” a woman’s robotic voice announced and lowly echoed throughout the empty hall. Zoe again motioned to Darious who was still mesmerized by the dizzying height of the open architecture above him.
“Come check this out.” He walked over and stood next to her. A video tour began, showing the different operations around the planet—metallurgy and circuit printing to the south, civil construction northward, manufacturing and assembly to the west, packaging and shipping to the east, and metrology and pressure testing at the planet’s core. The rendering of the planet became translucent, presenting a view of its structured interior. In addition to overhead tubes circumscribing the planet, there were tubes within for fast travel from one sector to another. The globe then flattened out and red dots lit up, signifying all the hubs around the planet. “We are here.” Zoe pointed to just below the equator. The screen magnified on that dot, showing a 3-dimensional local map, including bathrooms and eateries. “Oh, that’s useful.” She scrolled around the map, zooming in and out. “Somewhere like this may do us some good.” She had centered on a grouping of presentation suites within their hub.
“Sounds good,” said Darious. Just then, they heard a chime behind them as another pod entered the station.
“Come on, let’s go.”
They made their way past the arch entrance to the building’s large commercial center, comprised of a central overbearing hallway with rows of double doors on either side, each giving way to large company conference rooms and presentation auditoriums. Zoe peeked through the open ones and saw all were empty. They hadn’t even passed by a single person thus far.
“I guess this place isn’t really a popular vacation spot, is it?” she rhetorically asked. They winded through several smaller corridors, ending up at a sector having secondary presentation suites. Zoe poked her head in one and saw it had a central projection screen and several rows of elevated seats. “This will do. Please close the door behind you.” Zoe flipped on the lights, fully illuminating the mauve carpeting and fabric chairs. She stepped to the podium and began busying herself with its digital interface. “Take a seat Darious. Get comfortable.” She brought out her lightcard and set it on top of the podium, periodically checking it whilst navigating through the factory’s digital infrastructure. She quickly found, to her relief, that this station was indeed connected to Pantheon Industries’ servers, but the firewalls were stratospheric. Zoe brought out an electronic module from her sack and connected it to her lightcard. “Darious, this may take a bit of time. Can you do me a favor and keep an eye around the door? It would be quite inauspicious for someone to come snooping.”
Right then, the same mechanical woman’s voice sounded from the podium. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that.”
“Shhh!” Zoe uttered to the screen as the ringing voice echoed momentarily.
Despite a few more similar interruptions, Zoe was slicing and dicing her way through the online system, but she had to admit it was very well done. She soon came upon a set of files which sparked her curiosity. “Ah, I think I’ve got a bit of something.”
“Zoe,” whispered Darious, though he had done it so loudly it came off as husky, “I think someone is coming.” He eased the door shut from the crack he had been peering out from and slowly backed away from it. Zoe searched with even more rapidity.
She whispered back to him, “Darious, Erik was not the only one; there are dozens of deleted spatial-time points just in the last couple years. If I could just—”
“I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that,” came the woman’s voice again, shattering their chalice of solitude.
Heavy steps sounded just outside the door. Zoe wiped the screens and typed in a quick command into her lightcard, shutting down the podium’s computer. With one quick motion, she scooped up her things into the open backpack and jumped off the stage next to Darious, just as the door opened and a heavy-set man with a tucked in white-striped shirt and navy-blue slacks entered in.
“Hey! You two! What are you doing in here?”
A security guard, Zoe quickly surmised. “Sir,” she said in her most innocent voice, “my aide and I are a bit lost. These displays don’t work like the ones at the station. Oh, can you help us find our way back?”
“Ma’am, step out of the room.” She did so, Darious following behind her with his head bent low. The security guard gave him a stiff push forward as he passed by.
“Sir,” Zoe tried to resume, “what a wonderful establishment you have.” She noticed the man was gripping his pistol holster at his belt.
His stern demeanor was unyielding. “Ma’am, please.” He held out his arm, gesturing for Zoe and Darious to start walking. “I will take you back to the station.”
They were escorted in near silence for some time. Zoe pretended to be lost at every turn and the security guard only used the single words ‘left’ or ‘right’ to direct them. Zoe peeked over her shoulder several times and offered him a cheerful smile, but he remained at the ready, as if all he needed were the excuse that one of them had tried to make a run for it to shoot them dead. To her relief they were shortly upon the central station.
“Oh, thank you, thank you sir!” said Zoe. The security guard held up his hand to silence her and brought out a tablet. “Your name, designation, ID, and of course,” he eyed her sardonically, “your reason for being here.” She supplied him with a false name and a set of generic identification nodes from her lightcard—which she had previously created for a rainy day—and set to tell him a tale with such girlish prattle and such length that he soon lost interest and waved them off. As soon as he did, Zoe gestured to Darious with her eyes and they quickly made their way back to the pod.
As its door closed with a chime, Darious spoke, “Zoe what did—”
“Hush.” She leaned in very close and whispered in his ear. “I have no doubt we are now being watched.”
She straightened up and Darious slowly nodded. As soon as the pod had deposited them at their landing pad, Zoe unlocked the gangway with her lightcard and bounded up the ramp with Darious following right behind her. Once they entered in, she swung around in the captain’s seat and ignited the thrusters, roaring upwards.
Chapter 10
Two Eyes, One Nose, and a Forked Tongue
The phone rang. A serpentine finger teased the handle for a moment before quickly grasping it and pulling it into the shadows.
“Yes?” The question was posed with extreme authority and provocation. Murmurs could be heard on the other end. “Yes.” again was the response, with enough animosity to condemn an entire race. There were more submissive murmurs at the figure’s ear. The voice died away and soon there was a silence on both ends, though from the shadows, the silence had a crushing force comparable to the vacuity of space. The sound of some seething snake escaped from the figure.
He leaned forward, exposing a square jaw to the ambient light from an etched window with silk brocade curtains. As the top of his necktie touched the light, it reflected with blue hues only capable from the finest pigmented platinum polymers forged by mankind. Its brilliant richness of color could have dazzled ancient people of Earth-1 to the point of worship.
“I will take care of the issue.”
He placed the auriferous phone back in its engraved cradle. The snake slithered once more. With a sudden outburst, he banged a balled fist onto the 20th century cherry wood desk and then slowly slid back into the shadows. After a moment, he reached for the phone and spoke into it.
“Kappa Iota Lima.”
“Yes sir,” a cheerful attendant’s voice responded. There was a clicking sound on the line for several moments, then the other end picked up.
“Kappa here.”
“I have a job,” said the shadow man.
“Yes sir.”
“The particulars will be sent to you. I want you to observe them, at first. If those two, and yes, I am counting the clone.” He wheezed in abhorrence as if the word des
poiled his tongue. “If those two are bleating, then shear their heads from their bodies.” There was a mechanical yet primal tone to his voice. He did not wait for a response and hung up the phone. Venom dripped from the snake’s mouth.
Chapter 11
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Troy’s Banner
As Zoe’s ship reentered the vacuum of space beyond the factory’s sphere of influence, Zoe and Darious both couldn’t help but take several much-needed deep breaths in. Zoe sniffed her arm and then Darious’ hair.
“Ugh. We reek of that wretched planet.”
Darious nodded. “And that security man—”
“Also wretched. I know.” Zoe sat in the captain’s chair but quickly stood up again. “I’m going to rinse off.” She looked him over. “Afterwards I suggest you do the same. I will see if I can find ya some clothes.” Darious smiled; such niceties were not commonly bestowed upon him. “See if you can put the ship’s filters into overdrive to help clear up this stench while I’m away.”
“But...”
“No worries. Fiddle with the controls. It’s the best way to learn the system.” She smirked. “It’s how I learned. Anyhow, what’s the worst that could happen? The airlocks disengage, depressurizing the ship? The side thrusters activate, spinning us beyond the stabilizers’ capacity and into a fine goop? Or perhaps the ship spontaneously self-implodes by an accidental over-clocking of the arc reactor?” Darious stared at her wide-eyed. “No worries.” With that, she turned and left the cockpit.
Darious slowly sat in the hot seat and paused with his hands above the virtual keyboard as if his unworthy being was about to pick up the holiest of grails. He closed his bar-coded eyes, opening them again and accessing the first layer of the ship’s computer systems.
“Let me see.”
He soon navigated to a routine titled ‘Aeration Sequence 1-99.’ He opened it and suddenly heard a gurgling sound from elsewhere in the ship. He gasped and popped out of his seat, running to the central chamber. Darious paused all motion and listened. Zoe was in a side room behind a closed door. The gurgling stopped and started several more times, originating from this washroom. He exhaled with relief, now recognizing the sound for what it was—running water through the filtration system. He walked back to the cockpit and wiped sweat from his brow. Sitting once more, he read through the command lines for the routine package he had opened. The text read: ‘Brew Aeration Sequencing System. Version: 1. Edits: 99. Purpose: digital analysis aid for determining the correct amount of froth to be applied to a cappuccino.’ He did not recognize the last word.
