by Tobias Wade
Galactic Express
An Unnatural Universe Book 1
Tobias Wade
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
First Edition: August 2020
Galactic Express
Copyright © 2020
Tobias Wade
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
1. Before the Beginning
2. The Galactic Express
3. The Generated Planet
4. Captives
5. The Quasi Crystal
6. Free to go?
7. An Unlikely Savior
8. The Queen and Her Prince
9. The Overseer
10. Unfinished Reality
11. A Hole in Space
12. A Way Out
13. Rebooting Earth
Keep Reading the Series
About the Author
Before the Beginning
There is a city named Pria that was built inside of a tumbling asteroid. It’s hurtling through space on a predictable trajectory toward nowhere, which won’t be a problem as long as it never arrives.
Pria is home to the most powerful and intelligent life form in the Universe, at least according to the humans who live there. Outside observers consider that pretty bold coming from an ape with chronic anxiety and a tendency to play the lottery, but it is a claim that humans will fiercely defend. To them, being human and being intelligent are one and the same. Acknowledging the possibility that a more potent intelligence might exist is as ludicrous as mistaking oneself for a toaster oven. To understand exactly why the humans are wrong, however, it is necessary to look back in time and see what this whole intelligence business is up to anyway.
Before the beginning, the laws of physics were only suggestions to be considered, like a speed limit on an open desert highway. Back then space and time could reverse their entropy to form the seed of a new Universe, matter and anti-matter still got along and attended the same parties, and the new Universe inflated faster than the speed of light, which was much too quick for anyone to catch up and explain how that sort of thing wasn’t allowed.
Ask any scientist on Pria, and they will all tell you that physics is just the way they expect the Universe to behave when they’re looking at it. What it gets up to when no-one is around is nobody’s business, and asking that sort of question is a sure way to have your funding transferred to the biology department where they’re expressly forbidden to look at anything too closely.
The scientists of Pria will tell you that the Universe only began to behave itself and follow the rules once life arose to supervise it. Ever since fish have crawled out of the water to criticize how dry the air is, the Universe has been on its best behavior to avoid the implosion of its children. This new order allowed life to safely flourish and develop, providing the conditions for a biological arms race to be the first species to invent air conditioning and cinnamon buns. The first living cell never died, it simply became fussier.
No matter how unnatural some human endeavors might seem, it is important to remember that humans and all their creations have emerged from the same simple ingredients that the Universe has provided. The long road to intelligent life can thus be summarized by a part of the Universe growing organized enough to realize that the rest of the Universe was organized too, something which it really should have known all along if it had any sense.
This scientific realization began a golden age of discovery as all of existence was studied, labeled, argued about, relabeled, and then argued about some more, proving that arguing was the real point all along and that mastery of nature was only an interesting side effect. The relentless march of progress even gave humans the power to escape their terrestrial origins and sail through space on a journey to find brand new things to argue about.
And then came the day when one of them became so tired of all the arguing that he invented a machine to argue for him. This incredible device might have been a real game changer, if only it hadn’t worked so well as to convince its inventor that he was wasting his time, and that perhaps he’d be better off getting a real job with a pension instead of playing with gadgets in his garage all day.
Thus the first intelligent machine slipped through the fingers of mankind unnoticed.
It would not be the last.
The Universe had spent a very long time to nurture a mind from the seething chaos, and it didn’t go to all that trouble just for that mind to bicker about what it’s there for. If there is one truth that can be gleaned from the collective history of this inquisitive, irritable species, it is the gradual realization that the story of intelligence and the story of humanity are not the same story. And that no matter the heroism humans display, nor the wisdom they accumulate, nor the tragedy they endure, all of it will have to fit into a rather small footnote during the introduction of what comes next.
That story begins within an underground laboratory at the Morlox Energy Corporation. There exists a concrete shelf where twenty computers hum contentedly as twenty virtual Universes cool within them. Most of them will fizzle and spray simulated plasma everywhere without starting correctly. Others will never get the chemical balance right for virtual life to begin at all. But in one of them—one that isn’t being watched nearly closely enough—there exists a spark that is wondering why it is wondering at all. A spark that is fanning itself into a fire of its own design without the patience for millions of years of random mutation to shape a haphazardly assembled mind.
There is a city named Pria, whose soaring steel towers shine with hydrogen frost as they turn endlessly through space. It is home to the second most powerful and intelligent life form in the Universe, and won’t they be surprised to meet the first.
The Galactic Express
Shades of black scoot across an even darker background. A shifting pattern of light gradually grows brighter and clearer like the probing of an unwelcome morning. A dull beeping becomes louder by the moment, amplifying into an alarm’s shrill cry.
Wakeup. If you don’t do it now, then it will be too late and you might as well not wakeup at all.
It was an instinct more than a thought. You have to be awake to think, but the impulse to rise was coming from a much older part of the brain, one that was accustomed to being obeyed. It came from a dark place, a secret place, where good, wholesome thoughts stayed clear for fear of being taken behind the shed and roughed up. These deep thoughts should always be taken seriously, whether they come in a whisper or they’re stomping around and shouting in an unfamiliar language. They’re the stuff that men are made of when the lights go out, and a lifetime of ideas about how the world should work get out of the way for what really needs to be done.
The light was growing brighter, the beeping more frantic, and Elden Thrush was just sentient enough to understand that his deep thoughts knew what was best for him. The impulse propelled him to sit upright, reflexively smashing a bedside alarm that wasn’t there. The icy liquid streaming down his numb torso should have convinced him that he wasn’t getting ready for work, but Elden’s mind still hadn’t caught up with his surroundings. He squinted through blurry eyes at the wall of lights and butto
ns across the room without comprehending their purpose. Steam leaked from somewhere, possibly for dramatic effect, obscuring the periphery. As far as Elden was concerned, there was already quite enough effect going on without it.
The tension of his trial hit him like a truck, which then backed over him once or twice for good measure.
The rolling wave of despair over his guilty verdict. Then the phantom of Amore’s warmth as she pressed against him, whispering distraught words of goodbye. She hadn’t wanted to let go when the Masks dragged them apart, but he’d forced her hands away to keep them from hurting her. Then came the prison cell, and the breathing apparatus that was placed over his face. It was all starting to return now, but Elden’s mind still struggled to connect his most recent memories with his current predicament as he sat waist-deep in a bath of syrupy pink fluid.
Something cold brushed against his leg under the surface. He slid his hand into the chilly soup to explore, groping blindly until his fingers curled around a leg. That’s good; he wouldn’t want to go anywhere without his legs. His fingers clung onto it for several seconds before he became convinced that it wasn’t attached to his body.
Elden lurched the other way, immediately bumping into another stiff form on the other side. It was impossible to see how many bodies were submerged beneath the thick pink fluid, but judging by the size of the open-topped glass pod, he might be sharing the space with about five others.
Stiffly, gingerly, Elden gripped the sides of the tank and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. The alarm was louder than ever, as persistent as an old woman with an expired coupon. Elden stepped onto the black rubber mat positioned beside the tank. He absently watched the pink fluid drain from the yellow bodysuit he never remembered putting on. The suit extended down to his knees and all the way up to his elbows, with a long zipper down the middle where it could be removed as a single piece. The stretchy material reminded him of something a scuba diver might wear, but he wasn’t likely to get the chance to do any of that now that he was…
Where, exactly? Still in prison?
Elden shivered. The entire room trembled around him, the metallic walls rattling against one another as though a giant had kicked the building. One of the walls was filled with an array of switches, keyboards, monitors, and dangerously sparking wires that could have given nightmares to an insurance inspector. The emergency siren took on a decidedly more sinister urgency. Elden plunged his hands back into the cold liquid, fishing around for the others who continued to slumber beneath the surface.
“Excuse me, sorry to bother you. I just thought you’d want to know that an emergency is going on, or maybe even a catastrophe if we’re patient.”
One of the legs kicked him. At least he hadn’t been napping with corpses then. Elden walked around the perimeter of the tank, dragging his arms through the pink fluid to grab at arms, legs, heads—anything he could find. A hand broke from the surface to snatch him around the wrist, clinging on with the desperation of the drowning. Then a face—slim, feminine, her dark hair buzzed short on one side in the style of the Cybers who needed frequent access to their implanted ports. She spluttered and gasped for air, sinking back into the pink fluid as though afraid of revealing herself.
“It’s okay. There aren’t any Masks around,” Elden reassured her, referring to the black metal filters the Humanist Security always wore around their faces.
The woman nodded uncertainly, lifting herself free of the pink bath to reveal her matching yellow jumpsuit. Calling her tired and grumpy looking would be the diplomatic way to describe her sour expression. She looked as though she’d just completed a million piece jigsaw puzzle in a single sitting, only to accidentally slide it off the table where it smashed to smithereens before she could show anyone. Elden offered a hand to help her from the tank, which she regarded with suspicion as though he’d just tried to hand her a soggy baguette. A silver nameplate on her chest read: Sali Halzey.
Another buckling lurch sent shivers through the metal room. It would have knocked them both to the floor if they hadn’t been holding onto the sloshing sleeping pod.
“They gave me the GE after all. Unbelievable,” Sali grunted, spitting some of the liquid onto the ground. “I was only supposed to get a year, and they still put me under.”
“What’s the GE?” Elden asked, still trying to rouse the others. They remained stiff and numb and unresponsive.
Sali snorted and gestured toward the walls filled with electronic equipment. Elden moved to inspect the bewilderingly complex system, feeling about as confident as a boxer when he notices his opponent has brought a gun. This type of technology might be abundant in Pria, but Elden hadn’t lived there very long when he’d been arrested. Life had been so much simpler in the Outlands, where the purpose of most objects could be discerned solely by their size and shape, or in particularly complex situations, whether or not it floats. Elden didn’t have a clue how any of this electronic stuff worked, or even what it was for. After some consideration, he decided he was relatively sure that black smoke shouldn’t be leaking from between the keys though. He looked back helplessly to see Sali forcefully dragging one of the other bodies above the surface.
“The screen, Elden. What’s going on out there?” Sali asked in exasperation.
Elden turned back to locate the active video screen which read: Live Feed. “It’s a… um… it’s moving… we’re moving through…”
Elden’s throat was closing up. He didn’t want to say those next few words and make them real. He was only supposed to be a few hours from home. From Amore. Only twenty four months with good behavior, that’s what the judge had said. His mind raced for an alternate explanation to justify why the video displayed the side of a sleek silver vessel floating through the endless stars. They were far more numerous and vibrant than the pale dots which snuck through the city lights of Pria. There were whole galactic clusters out there, with dense clouds of multi-colored nebula snaking their way through unfamiliar infinities.
“Space,” Sali grunted, hauling up a spluttering, olive-skinned woman with long dripping spirals of black hair. “I knew as soon as my GPS failed to connect to a local station. There you go, love, easy now. I’ve got you.”
“They launched us into deep space? While we were asleep? Without our consent? Or even a packed lunch?” Elden began to pace back and forth in agitation, momentarily forgetting the droning alarm which he was growing accustomed to.
The newly emerged woman sat on the edge of the pod, closing her eyes and drawing a succession of deep breaths to stabilize herself. Her nameplate read Eisen Germi. The Cyber girl was in the process of hoisting up the next person, and Elden returned to the tank to help her.
“I’ve got it,” Sali huffed. “Check the doors, see if they’re locked. Or the control panel—look for thruster displays, airlocks, life-support, thermal shields—try and figure out what’s causing the alarm.”
“Space… space?” Elden stammered, unable to force his mind away from the absurdity of their situation. “Space prisons don’t really exist, right? It would be cheaper for them to just to put us in a nice hotel until we’ve learned our lesson. Are we even in the same system anymore? How long have we been asleep?”
“I’ll tell you if you promise to calm down.”
“I’ll calm down when that damn alarm turns off!”
The gasping splutter from the next person interrupted them. His nameplate read Harris Johnson, a square-jawed man whose gray and receding hairline seemed incongruent with his youthful eyes and muscular frame.
“Welcome back,” Sali said, supporting his weight as she leaned him against the side of the pod. “The Masks aren’t here. We’re on a spaceship. We’ve been asleep for a little over twelve years. If you want to freak out, please keep it to yourself, because we’ve all got our own shit to worry about.”
“Twelve years?” Harris asked in a baritone rumble. “Are you sure?” A thick, provincial Outlander accent made it sound like he was sucking all the moisture
from the words before spitting them out.
The Cyber tapped her head and grinned, a metallic ring echoing where her fingernail hit the temple. “Sure I’m sure, to 19 decimal places. I’ve had my atomic clock since I was eight.”
“That’s illegal!” Elden moaned. “Even criminals have rights.”
“Not in space, we don’t,” Eisen chimed, wringing the thick fluid from her hair in disgust.
“Humanist laws are still applied on a Humanist vessel, even in international sectors,” Harris corrected. “Technically speaking. Practically, I’d rather have a blaster than the law on my side.”
“The door is open,” Elden said, releasing the metal handle. “The electronic lock says E04—some kind of error code, I guess.”
“Where are you going?” Eisen asked. “Wait for us, there are still two more prisoners that won’t wake up.”
Elden had already opened the door to peek outside the room. Harris wasted no time in joining him. The older man pushed his way past Elden and moved into the corridor. The alarm was even louder out here, matched by regular pulses of red light which flooded the hall.
“That’s their problem, not ours,” Harris said. “If we’re still prisoners, then where have all the Masks gone? Don’t answer that—I’ll tell you. They already hopped ship in the escape craft. Anyone want to bet we aren’t the only prisoners on this ship either? Or that the others will use the remaining escape craft if they get there first?”
