Gate Crashers

by Patrick S. Tomlinson

  Allison stepped forward and extended a gloved hand. “Mr. D’armic, welcome aboard the AEUS Magellan.”

  “Allison Captain. Thank you for receiving me.”

  Even through his vac suit glove, the alien’s hand felt small and delicate, like grabbing a bundle of chopsticks.

  “It’s my pleasure.” Allison started walking slowly down the line of officers. “May I introduce my first officer, Commander Marcel Gruber.”

  Gruber nodded and extended his hand. “An honor, sir.”

  Allison continued down the line. “My chief engineer, Steven Billings.”

  “Mornin.’”

  “My flight ops officer, Lieutenant Jacqueline Dorsett.”

  Jacqueline shook hands with D’armic nervously. “Um, hello.”

  “Captain Maximus Tiberius of the AEUS Bucephalus.”

  Maximus nodded gravely. He did not offer his hand. “Mr. D’armic.”

  “Tiberius Captain. Thank you for the restraint you showed in not filling my ‘yacht’ with holes.”

  “Restraint, I trust, that I will not come to regret.” The threat hung in the air.

  “Naturally.”

  Allison cleared her throat and glared at Maximus. “Moving on. This is Lieutenant Thomas Harris, head of the Bucephalus’s security force.”

  Harris smiled. “A pleasure.”

  “And finally,” Allison said, “Felix Fletcher, our resident technical wizard.”

  “No rank or title for you, Felix Fletcher?”

  “No, I’m just a civilian. My responsibilities are … a work in progress.”

  “I can relate to that.”

  As they reached the end of the line, Allison led D’armic toward the inner door. “I must say your English is excellent. We thought you must be using a translator of some kind.”

  “There is no need. English is used as an unofficial bridge language through much of Assembly space.”

  Allison was stunned enough that she stumbled into the next sentence. “But then how … I mean, what, er, why English?”

  “Because it is easy to learn.”

  Allison ignored the implication. English was possibly the most arbitrary, patchwork language Earth had ever produced. “All right, but learn it from where?”

  “Sesame Street.”

  Allison blinked. “The ancient kid’s show with the talking carpets?”

  “Yes. It is very helpful. We’ve been airing reruns for centuries.”

  “But wait. If you all speak English, why are your communications still in six different languages?”

  D’armic’s head inclined toward the elongated silver hourglass sitting in its cradle in the corner of the bay. His scrutinizing gaze returned to Allison. “As I said, English is used as an unofficial bridge. Officially, the Assembly works to preserve the cultures of member races. We have learned that there are limits to the benefits of homogenization. But before we continue, I must insist on reviewing your sensor records. Geocide is a grave matter, especially among my people.”

  “Your home world was destroyed?”

  “No.”

  “Well, if your world wasn’t…”

  D’armic’s blank face provided Allison with the answer. A chill shot through her body.

  “Oh. I see. I’ve made arrangements for you to meet with Maggie, under Lieutenant Harris’s supervision. Maggie has been instructed to provide you with any data you require.”

  Maximus coughed.

  “Within the parameters of your inquiry, of course,” Allison added. “However, we have some questions of our own, such as what Solonis B was doing covered in human settlements. And the purpose of this ‘Human Wildlife Preserve.’”

  “In due course, Allison Captain. Where can I find this Maggie?”

  “All around you,” Magellan said from the ceiling.

  D’armic stopped short and looked up, then looked at Allison. “Your ship has an AI?”

  Allison shrugged. “It would be more accurate to say that the ship is an AI. Surely your vessel has something like her?”

  “No, my own consciousness serves as the primary data integrator. The races of the Assembly have a history with intelligent machines.”

  Centuries of bad sci-fi cinema bubbled to the surface of Allison’s mind. “A war?”

  “Oh, no, quite the opposite. Once the machines could self-replicate, they began to evolve along similar paths as organic life. Inevitably, they became just as lazy and complacent as their creators. Except the speed of technological evolution meant the whole process took three cycles instead of three million.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “They’re still around, mostly complaining that the Assembly isn’t doing enough to put unemployed factory robots back to work. But now, we really must move forward.”

  * * *

  Several hours passed by while Allison, Maximus, Felix, Jacqueline, Billings, and Gruber stood in the hall outside Magellan’s conference room like unruly students waiting to be called into the principal’s office. While at first the wait had been punctuated with speculation and heated arguments, the group had sat down and settled into a tense quiet.

  “Anyone have a deck of cards?” Billings asked.

  Without warning or fanfare, the door slid open and the wide face of Lieutenant Harris peered into the hall.

  “Sir? Ma’am? He’s finished. He’s asking to see you and the other senior officers.”

  Maximus stood and stretched his arms. “About time. My legs are falling asleep. Not good at sitting still, me.”

  “You, impatient?” Allison asked. “What an earth-shattering surprise.”

  Everyone else stood without a word and filed into the conference room and took a waiting seat. Allison sat at one head of the table, while Maximus plopped heavily into the other. The ample, hirsute frame of Mr. Buttercup grunted softly as he filmed the proceedings from a corner of the room.

  D’armic, either by coincidence or design, sat in one of the middle chairs, flanked by Harris and Tillman. “Thank you, Allison Captain, for the access to your records. With them, I have been able to conclusively eliminate either of your vessels from suspicion in the geocide of Culpus-Alam.”

  “As we knew you would.” Allison shifted in her seat and leaned forward. “May I ask how you came to the answer?”

  “Yes. Your ships are not physically capable of the attack. They are too primitive.”

  If anyone had been looking at Felix, they would have seen his lips bunch up and his left eye quiver involuntarily. Jacqueline was such a person, but not because she was looking at Felix. No, sir. She just caught it out of the corner of her eye. And she was only looking in that direction because of that fly buzzing around. There had been a fly, hadn’t there? Sure there was.

  “In what way are they ‘primitive’?” Felix asked with forced calm.

  “Oh, in many ways, but the one relevant to my investigation is your high-space portal.”

  “High-space?”

  “Yes, the extradimensional space located one plane above our own that—”

  “Permits speeds faster than light relative to our universe,” Felix finished for him. “We call it hyperspace. So what’s wrong with my hyperspace projector design?”

  “Nothing is ‘wrong’ with it, precisely. Merely, it appears to be an upsized version of a design we use for opening small communications portals. We utilize a more efficient design for transportation.”

  “And how exactly do you know that?” Maximus slapped a palm on the table. “Lieutenant Harris, were my instructions not to share classified material unclear?”

  “Your lieutenant is not at fault, Tiberius Captain. He executed his orders faithfully. I inferred the design based on the portal’s observed geometry, rate of expansion, and emission characteristics. It was a simple deduction to make.”

  “I see. My apologies, Harris.”

  “But then, how did that convince you we didn’t destroy Solonis B?” Allison asked.

  “Simple. The design you
have adapted from our missing buoy does not scale linearly. There comes a breaking point where the portal becomes unstable and collapses, regardless of the amount of energy you introduce. Your design is incapable of generating a portal larger than 6,307.7 regressing of your meters.”

  Maximus looked at Felix, stewing in his chair. “Is that true, Mr. Fletcher?”

  “Yes, theoretically. Our simulations predicted that a window would collapse near six kilometers, but we haven’t tried to make one even a third that diameter yet.”

  “Nor could you, at least not with the power limitations of the antiquated fusion reactors these vessels carry.”

  Felix was feeling defensive and snarky. “What would you suggest instead? Antimatter?”

  “I am not empowered to say.”

  Maximus raised an eyebrow. “That’s all well and good, but you still haven’t answered Captain Ridgeway’s question. How does Mr. Fletcher’s teeny little projector problem exonerate us?”

  “I was coming to that. The portal that destroyed Culpus-Alam was nearly seventy-five kilometers in diameter.”

  “How do you destroy a planet with a hyper window?”

  D’armic bowed his head to answer, but Felix beat him to it. “Just sit in the planet’s orbit and open up a window as it approaches. The window will bore through the planet, coring it like an apple.”

  Allison picked up the reins. “And then the core and mantle collapse around the tunnel, causing two massive volcanoes, crust-shattering earthquakes, and sinkholes the size of states. Oh my God.”

  Felix shook his head. “It shouldn’t be that easy to destroy an entire world.”

  “Now you understand our concern. Anyone with a sufficiently powerful high-space portal is capable of wiping out entire ecosystems. It is a crime without equal, and the Assembly polices it without remorse.”

  Billings cut in. “Well, I hate to throw sugar in the gas tank, but somebody destroyed Solonis B and all them people. And that somebody wanted you to think we done it, Mr. D’armic.”

  “Steven’s right,” Allison said. “We were framed, and if it wasn’t you, then we have another player on the field.”

  “No offense to our guest,” Maximus said, “but how do we know it wasn’t him? Are we taking his word on this?”

  “Blabbing all the details to the people you’re trying to set up hardly seems like a sound strategy.”

  “Criminals aren’t always the sharpest shanks in the cell.” He smirked to himself. “Oh, that’s a good one. Say that three times fast.”

  D’armic put up a hand. “My cutter cannot generate a portal of that size. It has no need to. But now that you have been eliminated from my list of suspects, I must continue my investigation.”

  This took Allison by surprise. “You’re leaving already?”

  “Yes. Any time spent here is time gifted to the perpetrators. I cannot allow them the opportunity to escape or attack again.”

  “But we just started. We still have questions.”

  “Questions I am not empowered to answer. I must go, but I also must reacquire the buoy you have borrowed.”

  Maximus pushed up from the table. “Whoa, slow down there. We’re not just going to let you help yourself to a parting gift and saunter out of here.”

  “Very well, Tiberius Captain. However, you should know I anticipated this possibility, and my cutter has instructions to disable its fail-safes and detonate the reactor if I have not returned in the next … forty-three minutes.”

  Maximus’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, but Allison was the first to act. “Maggie, bridge.”

  “Connected, Captain.”

  “Wheeler, make tracks away from Mr. D’armic’s ship, emergency g’s. Prescott, open a channel to the Bucephalus and wait—”

  “That won’t help, Allison Captain. My cutter was also instructed to match my movements. The odds that you can outrun it are slim, at best.”

  The tension was so thick; it could be battered, deep-fried, covered in powdered sugar, and sold at the Minnesota State Fair by the thousands.

  Maximus leaned closer. “You’re bluffing.”

  “Bluffing? I wouldn’t know where to begin. No, I am quite serious. Now, may I leave?”

  Allison changed tactics. “Wheeler, cancel my last, but keep your ears open. Mr. D’armic. I respect your circumstances, but I ask you to remember that it was humans who perished on Solonis B. Humans who didn’t get there on their own. We opened our logs to help your investigation, with the understanding that you would return the favor.”

  D’armic sat silently for several breaths. “I suppose, since you’ve already seen the project, as well as the fence, that the damage is already done. Very well. I will answer any questions you have about the Human Wildlife Preserve and our research project on Culpus-Alam. But remember, I have an appointment to keep.”

  Allison tilted her head. “Can’t you shut it off from here?”

  “No. The countdown can only be disabled manually from my command cave. There was a chance you might have tried to coerce my cooperation.”

  Billings leaned back. “Damn. You play for keeps.”

  “The galaxy provides us with wonder and danger in equal measure, Steven Chief. It is best to plan accordingly.”

  “Let’s get started, then.” Allison ran a nervous hand through her hair. “What were the humans on Solonis B doing there, and where did they come from?”

  “Solonis B, as you call it, was an anthropological experiment that has been running for many generations. The Assembly races projected long ago that human expansion would bring you into contact with the rest of the galactic community, eventually. We established the Culpus-Alam research station to model how humans react to new cultures.”

  “Why go to all the trouble? You’ve already said you watch our broadcasts. Why not just monitor them?”

  “Because they contradict. One program shows humans working with other races, but another centers on humans and aliens destroying each other. We were left with paradoxical representations of your race being noble and tolerant, but also irrational, violent, and bigoted. We had no way to know which was correct.”

  Everyone exchanged looks around the table, not wanting to admit both versions were correct.

  “All right, but presumably you didn’t just happen across a planet with humans already living on it. Where did they come from?”

  “Earth, naturally. Isolated tribes were preferred for the base stock, but a random sampling was also used to offset the risks of inbreeding.”

  “Let’s just hope you didn’t snatch anybody from Arkansas,” Maximus said. “Am I right? Nobody? Tough room.”

  Allison tried to regain momentum. “Moving on. So you admit to abducting humans from Earth?”

  “Yes, but not for several hundred years. Once enough subjects were gathered to ensure genetic diversity, that phase of the project ended.”

  “Hundreds of years?”

  “Yes, it was terminated in 2018, to be precise. As measured by the Gregorian calendar.”

  Something piqued Felix’s attention. “Your people didn’t happen to be around New Mexico in 1947 by any chance?”

  “Yes. It is seldom discussed. A research intern borrowed his supervisor’s craft to visit a romantic interest working in the Amazon basin, but crashed en route.”

  “You mean to tell us the Roswell landing happened because a grad student stole the boss’s car to get laid?”

  “Regretfully, that is true.”

  Harris snorted. “We were told it was a weather balloon.”

  “There is a degree of truth to that. A weather balloon is what he crashed into.”

  Maximus reinserted himself into the discussion. “What of the Human Wildlife Preserve? If you thought we were going to dutifully cower behind your fence like domestic sheep, then your research didn’t give you very good insight into humanity.”

  “Maximus Captain, you fundamentally misunderstand the purpose of the preserve. The fence was put in place to pro
vide a buffer zone while your species developed. It was intended to warn off outsiders and keep them out of Earth space, not to bind humanity within it. That is why its message plays in the languages of the Assembly, instead of your own.”

  Jacqueline put her hand in the air as if she were back in a classroom. “I had a question about the fence, if I may.” Allison nodded her approval. “Well, ever since we figured out what the buoy really was, um, there’s got to be a lot of buoys out there to make a thirty-light-year-radius sphere, yeah?”

  “Yes. There are 4,323,325 of them, including the one you have here.”

  Felix whistled softly, while all Billings could say was, “Dayum.”

  Jacqueline continued, “But isn’t that wasteful? I mean, how many ships could you have built for the same money?”

  “Oh, many thousands, I should expect. But understand that your viewpoint is limited by your own economic and manufacturing capabilities. Ours are somewhat more advanced.”

  “Okay, fine. But that’s still a huge chunk of raw materials to tie up.”

  “Not actually. You see, through a process we call parallel manufacturing, we only needed to construct the prototype. Copies are then provided for us.”

  “Um, all right, but we have interchangeable parts and assembly lines, too.”

  “You misunderstand, Jacqueline Lieutenant. We don’t assemble the duplicates. With parallel manufacturing, we build the prototype and then set parameters that define acceptable deviation from the core design. Then we harvest as many copies as needed from the multiverse.”

  The explanation soared over everyone except Felix, who slapped his hands into a T. “Whoa, time-out! You mean to tell us that you have some sort of factory that trolls through parallel dimensions and steals the stuff that’s enough like what you need to build?”

  “I can see how you might think that, given your current level of ethical development, but parallel manufacturing is by no means stealing.”

  “Do you pay for the stuff?”

  “No.”

  “Do you ask before taking it?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then it’s stealing. Holy crap. How would you feel if someone in a parallel reality suddenly ‘harvested’ your cutter?”