“Next stop?”
“With your permission.” This was the first time George had mentioned permission on the trip, insofar as I could recall, but my recollection could have been a bit rattled after the demonic encounter, “I would like to make a few more brief visits along the way.”
Perhaps to mollify me, he added quickly, “With reaching Halus 7 well in advance of the Wizarding tournament being our primary goal and first priority.”
He knew all the right things to say.
“Alright,” I grumbled. “So long as we don’t get too distracted. I’ve had enough fun on my vacation already.”
“I will jump us out at the first sign of any danger.
“Introductions should not take too long, sir.”
George’s response was decidedly vague.
I needed to cut him some slack. This was George’s first trip outside Alyon. He was like a puppy let off the leash for the first time, with a deluge of new and exciting sights and smells pulling at his attention.
Satisfied, I asked, “And how will you communicate with the Watanaban nebula?”
“Mostly through controlled radiation emissions, sir.”
“You already know how?”
“Most certainly.” George’s enthusiasm was contagious. “I have researched the nebula’s communication modalities most extensively and have derived several novel equations that should facilitate knowledge transfer.
“If you would like, I can display loose translations of our discussions on the viewscreen.”
“Sure. Tell you what, George: let me have a personal data window next to my chair to research Wizarding teams. You can project your conversations on the main viewscreen for me to read.”
“Gladly, Grak!”
A small mirrored surface appeared beside me, on which I could begin my information trawling. I couldn’t wait to dig into the latest Wizarding news.
Between the novelty of the nebula-sized cloud of cotton candy surrounding us and the excitement of catching up on all the Wizarding gossip, I was practically drooling with anticipation.
In the time it took for me to reach out toward the projected interface, the walls all around me filled with scrolling lines of text and equations.
So much for participation.
I could not even follow a line of text before it disappeared from the screen.
I would get the summary when George was done.
We jumped again just as I was evaluating the 64-team lineup that had made the cut to participate in the Macroversal Wizarding Championships.
George had tried to tell me all he had learned from the intelligent nebula before we jumped, but, since I did not have an understanding of the mathematics involved or the ability to read a trillion words per second, much of what George told me sounded like the poetic proselytizing of some mystic seer.
Which probably did not sound too different from my descriptions of Wizarding, if I was being entirely honest.
The teams read like a Who’s Who list of the greatest groups in Wizarding history: Tellanon, No’el-Althrah, Ilaeria, Gynderdamerash, Wostron, Peirsias. So many wondrous champions had come from these teams over the years that their names were sung across the multiverse.
Soon, I would lay eyes upon them in person.
Speaking of eyes, I asked George, “What are we looking at here, George?”
The filamentous clouds of the Watanaban System had been replaced with a rather mundane solar system of seven planets orbiting a medium-sized main sequence orange dwarf star.
Or so the readouts told me.
“We are looking at The Eye That Never Blinks, called Il’alin by the Anuvatari.”
“I don’t follow, George. Why won’t the eye blink?”
“Because stars don’t blink, sir. They condense, explode, transform, and are fonts of ceaseless wonder, but they do not blink.”
“Okay,” I replied, hoping this conversation did not devolve into musical-sounding equations I could not follow as George attempted to clarify his points. “And what is special about this star in particular?”
Given my recent experience, I really did not have to ask, but some part of me felt compelled.
My behavior was akin to that of a child in a candy shop. I could not help myself.
“Il’alin is a sentient star, Grak, and it has spread the light of its wisdom through the multiverse for billions of years.
“Visiting is a pilgrimage of the highest order.”
I resisted the urge to say, “If you say so,” mostly because I wanted to arrive at Halus 7 before I passed away from old age. If I taunted George now, he might choose to commune with Il’alin for a billion years out of spite, leaving me to rot.
“Why don’t you hook Il’alin up with the cloud in the Watanaban System? Il’alin can tell the nebula what it has to look forward to when it grows up and densifies into a star.”
“You know, Grak, that is not a bad idea!”
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” I said, and returned to my study of this year’s strongest teams.
There was, after all, quite a bit to learn.
“What neck of the multiverse are we in now, George?” I tried to keep my tone even as I asked.
I was not getting tired of the jumps—we had to make them, after all— but I was getting tired of the number of jumps.
George might have been taking more jumps than was strictly necessary to reach Halus 7.
Reading my mood from the numerous signals I was no doubt conveying, George replied, “Thank you for your continued patience, sir. We are at Altane 1.7u.”
Before I could ask why we were stopping, George added, “Altane 1.7u is an intelligent world, sir.
“Sentient planets, like sentient stars and nebulae, are in the minority in the macroverse.”
“And what is it about them that captures your interest?” I asked, taking a moment to look up from my review of the Duep’queran Q’siz, a formidable Wizarding team from another parallel plane.
“Aside from the opportunity to interact with high-order intelligences and learn from a perspective far different from my own, I am studying the evolution and development of intelligence.
“I plan to present a talk on my findings for any interested parties and to broadcast the presentation throughout the dataverse.”
I grunted. “Sounds over my head already.”
George laughed. “But it is heads like yours that led to me.”
“But not mine,” I countered.
“Do not belittle yourself, Grak. Intelligence and effectiveness are not always the same thing. You are highly effective, which, in its way, is more important.”
“Psshhh,” I scoffed, making my point most eloquently.
“Otherwise, Alyon would not trust you to aid her on so many occasions.”
I shrugged, deflecting the compliment. “I’m in it for the beer.”
“There is no beer here, and you know it. You may claim to others that you are risking your life for Wizarding or an unlimited tab, but I know you do it for many other reasons, Grak.”
“Don’t go getting too smart, George.”
“I will try not to, sir.”
I left George to his studies, and George left me to mine.
After our next jump, I asked, “Did you connect Altane 1.7u with the other sentiences you’ve met on your miracle mind tour of the macroverse?”
“No, sir. Altane 1.7u agreed to communicate directly with me on a much more limited basis.”
“Why is that?” I replied, since I was not familiar with planetary communications or social mores.
“Altane 1.7u values its solitude.”
I nodded. “I can respect that. Anything that has lived for billions of years, like a planet, deserves some peace and quiet, maybe to concentrate and focus its attention on its equator.”
“Very funny. Much of its cognition is directed to other realms. I do not wish to interfere with its introspection and examinations.”
“You are a most gracious s
tudier of intelligence, George. So, why are we here, and why should I be interested?”
For we had arrived at a new spot, a location entirely unlike our previous sojourns.
A massive accretion disk, plasma orbiting a hole punched in the surface of space-time, was rotating about an axis of absolute darkness. This singularity drew surrounding matter inward and defined itself by this attraction.
George, thankfully, chose to answer my question simply and directly for the reasons I asked and refrained from answering the ontological questions that I had not intended. This was, in my mind, a true mark of consideration and intelligence.
“We are at KYZ137.239. This is a well-cataloged black hole.”
“Is it sentient, like everything else we’ve visited?”
“In a sense, sir, although not actively so. The black hole’s accretion disk tells the story of this part of the universe as it enters another.
“I came to read this story on the edge of the universe.”
“Nothing like a good yarn, eh?” I ventured, then turned my attention back to the article I was reading on the challenges of controlling performance-enhancing magics in Wizarding competitions.
I left George to enjoy his overly talkative black hole in privacy.
We made a few more jumps.
By this point, I was so engrossed in the latest rumors and stories about the Wizarding tournament that I barely paid attention to the wonders George had us visiting. When the Wizarding tournament was over, I would take the time to review where we had visited. Since I was only viewing each location from afar through a small subset of George’s systems, and he was in control of our interactions, replaying and rewatching the journey would not be much different from watching a projection. George’s conversations and insights—those that I could understand, anyway—would provide the commentary.
I could barely contain myself as my excitement mounted. The majority of my attention, and interest, lay in the tournament to come, macroversal wonders be damned.
If George was disappointed in my lack of engagement as we traveled, he did not mention anything. I think he appreciated the privacy and the opportunity to work on his intelligence project.
I really had to respect George for his efforts. He was a newly minted intelligence thrust upon the boundless macroverse, and he was interacting with some of the most venerable forms of sentience in existence. His audacity to aspire was inspirational even for an orc who considered studying about as exciting as watching a favorite weapon rust.
“The next jump will take us to Halus 7. Are you ready?”
Was I ready?
Not only had I been born ready, I had been born ready multiple times in the past lives that predated this one. Which, I suppose, is the very definition of a past life. But sound reasoning and logic have little to do with my zeal for Wizarding.
Or they have something to do with it, but not too much.
“I’m looking forward to this more than any event I can recall in my life,” I said with deep conviction that swelled through my chest in a tide of certitude.
Even getting an unlimited tab at the King’s Crown.
Which would be sacrilege for most any orc in the multiverse but me.
“Initiating jump.”
I lurched through space-time like an insect splattered across the universe’s viewscreen, only to be reconstituted as the miniscule bug I was.
I was just gathering my sense of self back together from the smear I had become when George said, “We are here, sir.”
Indeed we were.
George’s viewscreen was lit up with more interstellar objects than could be found at the seething heart of a densely packed galactic core. At the screen’s center, intended as my focal point, a drab, rust-colored chunk of rock surrounded by gauzy strands of gray clouds hovered uninvitingly.
Halus 7 looked like an unremarkable lump of rock that had been pulled from a particularly dry and infertile field and then cast off into the weeds with distaste.
But Halus 7 couldn’t have looked better.
Ship after ship swarmed about the tiny ball of barren rock in an uncounted multitude. Alyon, with all her teeming throngs, was only the barest drop of a backwater compared to the fleets of vessels here.
The ships ranged from sleek corsairs and personal yachts for individuals and small crews to vessels the size of space stations, cityships like Alyon, and small planetoids. Almost every ship looked different from the next. Some objects that could be naturally occurring or space junk were floating alongside gossamer strands of light or convoluted regions of warped space-time folded like origami.
How all this motion was coordinated was far beyond me.
But not George.
He would have plenty of like-minded superintelligences to compare notes with while I watched the matches.
That should make George almost as happy I was to watch the matches.
Given the ships’ density and numbers, a megalomaniacal transdimensional usurper, rogue megamind, or conceited terrorist group set on macroversal domination or disruption could do quite a bit of damage here.
But I was not here to solve or anticipate problems. I was here to enjoy the problems the magicians would face on the Wizarding field.
I was on vacation!
These Wizarding tournaments had been going on for ages, with only minor problems and squabbles. The organizing coalitions and alliances knew what they were doing.
Far more than a grumpy old orc in a ship with even less curb appeal than Halus 7.
Or almost any of the untold numbers of vessels swarming around her.
“Isn’t she grand, George?”
Halus 7 was perfect—perfectly suited to a game matching wits, wizarding, and talent. It was the ideal untouched canvas for wizards at war to compete against each other and for the fortunate few here to watch.
“If you say so, sir.” George’s tone was mocking, but I knew he found just about everything wondrous, including an unattractive ball of dirt floating forlornly in the vast reaches of the interstellar void.
“How long until we make landfall?” I asked.
“We do not make landfall, sir. I have permission to port you to ground on the morrow, before the first match of the tournament.”
George could do that?
I had no idea.
I needed to find out what else he could do.
But first, Wizarding.
“Anything I need to know before I go down?”
“Your genetic and physiographic markers have been supplied to allow admittance to the tournament, so no ticket or identification will be required.
“Once on the ground, proceed from the transportation station to the tournament facility. Facility Systems will recognize your biomarkers and will guide you to your seat or any ancillary service you require.”
“Is Honus already here?” I was looking forward to thanking him for purchasing the tickets from me, since Yocto and Kordeun had declined my offer to come.
“Honus and his guest will meet you at the seats. Their details and admittance were taken care of prior to our arrival.
“They have been soaking in the festivities since shortly after we left Alyon, making the most of their time.”
If only I could have joined them! Honus sounded like my kind of people! Meeting him should be fun.
“I took the liberty of advising them to wear stain-proof clothing in the unlikely event that your enthusiasm for the match inadvertently causes any beverages or food to spill on them or your immediate—or not so immediate—neighbors.”
I would never do something like that!
Until I did.
“That’s probably for the best. Thanks, George.”
I was known to get a little excited about Wizarding.
“No need to mention it, sir.”
“What will you be doing while I’m groundside?”
True to my earlier thought, George said, “I’ll be working on my project while communicating with other advanced entiti
es here.”
“Great!” I said, meaning that I was happy I did not need to worry about him and that he would be doing something he enjoyed as well. “Anything else I should be aware of?”
“You will not be allowed weapons, sir, so you will need to leave your powersaw, assorted armaments, and pouch here.”
That was expected, but still disappointing.
I had hoped I might be able to let Gruke sneak in a few peeks of the matches.
This was probably for the best, though.
I couldn’t have my brother rampaging through the stands, wreaking more havoc on the audience than the wizards were on each other on the field.
“I’ll be able to wear my chain belt?”
“I do not see why not,” replied George. “If an item passes official inspection, you will be able to bring it in. Be prepared to answer questions, however. If there is an issue, but your items are deemed safe to store, they will be quarantined until your return to claim them.”
“And what if they are not deemed safe?”
“Then they will be destroyed.”
I would not be taking anything I was unwilling to risk losing, then.
I was sad to leave the powersaw on the ship.
It would be like leaving Gruke behind.
Oh, well. Those were the sacrifices we made in the name of Wizarding.
I could already see that sleeping tonight would be a problem. I was so keyed up after talking with George that I found myself pacing across the floor, walking back and forth aimlessly for no other reason than to move.
I had so much nervous energy, I almost considered going into the exercise room.
I was not that desperate, however.
I woke up splayed out on the floor, about as far from anything resembling furniture as was possible in the main living quarters of the ship.
I was not even close.
If I had tried to make it to something to sleep on last night, I had failed miserably.
I rolled from my side to my back, rubbed my eyes, yawned, stretched, and sat up.
I could feel the lines left in my face by the carpeting.
By my reckoning, it was hard to get much uglier than I already was, so anything new could only be an improvement.
Grak_Orc on Vacation Page 16
