The Space_Time Displacement Conundrum

by Milo James Fowler

  Hank nodded. "They do, sir." He rose to leave. "Nobody expects you to explain what happened to us. Nobody could."

  "But they do expect me to know where we go from here. I'd suggest as fast and as far away as possible from those Amazonians. Are they still pursuing us?"

  Hank grunted in the affirmative. So far, Commander Wan's course-changes were keeping their pursuers on their toes, and they had yet to come close to overtaking the Magnitude. The new reactor coils were doing the trick for now. Of course, the cold fusion reactor would have had them moving much closer to lightspeed, but that was no longer an option. Quasar couldn't risk blowing up the ship and its crew a second time. As Hank had mentioned, there would likely be no magical black hole right where they needed it ever again.

  "Very well. Dismissed." Quasar returned to viewing the footage on his computer screen as Hank left the conference room. The door swished shut behind him.

  The image on the captain's screen had suddenly disappeared. No matter what he did, Quasar couldn't bring up the file footage.

  Because the dates were all wrong.

  The most recent video was from almost five years ago, when the Magnitude had first left space dock.

  Episode 10: Head-Hopping

  "Captain Quasar, please report to the bridge," came the terse voice of Commander Selene Wan over the intercom.

  "Can it wait?" Quasar tapped the touchscreen before him, trying to scroll to the date when the Magnitude had first come in contact with the Amazonians. But there was no video recorded for the past five years—no dates listed, either. It was as though the captain had traveled back in time—

  "Sir?" Wan sounded confused.

  He knew why. Here and now in the past, their relationship had been fairly awkward. Quasar had never served with a female first officer before, and Wan seemed to know about his reputation with members of the opposite sex. What could he say? He had a way with the ladies. He owed it all to his chiseled features and brilliant white teeth, of course.

  But right now, none of that really mattered. Because right now wasn't right now anymore. He was in his own past again, and he knew this time he wouldn't be waking up from any sort of convenient dream. It was really happening, all over again.

  "On my way." Quasar slid his chair back from the conference table and cursed under his breath. "Steve, if you can hear me—"

  "I haven't gone anywhere." Steve suddenly blocked his exit route. Resplendent with his twinkly eyes, robe, and staff, the wizardly hallucination grinned up at the captain. "You just didn't need me until now, I suppose."

  Quasar drew back with a scowl. "I demand that you tell me what's going on. Why am I time-traveling?"

  Steve snickered. "Is that what you're doing?"

  "You find this funny."

  "Maybe because it's impossible. There's no way, scientifically speaking, that you could possibly travel into your own past in a physical state. It's absurd! There are too many ramifications that render the entire subject inconceivable."

  Captain Quasar narrowed his heroic gaze. "What about in a metaphysical state?"

  "You mean magic?" Steve nearly guffawed.

  "I mean in here." He tapped his temple. "My cognitive awareness is outside of this time, but my body is exactly as it was half a decade ago. Not that I've let myself go or anything, mind you."

  Steve nodded, pondering the captain's words. "Head-hopping."

  "How's that?"

  "You're saying you're able to pass through time in a metaphysical state, inhabiting the mind and body of your younger self for a little while before returning to your present timeframe. Is that it?"

  Commander Wan's voice returned via intercom: "Captain?"

  "On my way, Number Wan."

  Steve grimaced slightly. "Careful there. I believe it's too soon for you to be that familiar with your first officer. The pet names came much later in your mission, from what I've been able to gather."

  Quasar clenched his fists at his sides. "I don't know what you're doing here, but if you are somehow responsible for this—"

  "Calm down, Captain. I'm just along for the ride, remember? I don't know any more about it than you do. But I am afforded a more unemotional vantage point, having never experienced this portion of your life before. I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing how you became the man you are today."

  Quasar raised a finger. "You stay the hell out of my head, old man."

  "Sinuses. I'm in your sinus cavity. That quartz dust you inhaled on my planet, remember? I'm afraid the only way you're going to get rid of me is with a nasal vacuum—"

  Just then the entire ship shook with a violent reverberation along the port side. Quasar recognized the sensation immediately. The Magnitude was under fire.

  "Report!" The captain pushed his way past Steve, who dissolved into thin air on contact. Quasar clenched his fists as he focused on the situation at hand, striding onto the bridge as the door from the conference room swished shut in his wake.

  The bridge lay awash in an ambient red glow as every crew member assumed battle stations. For a split second, Quasar started, surprised not to see Hank at the helm. But then he remembered: at this point in time, the helmsman was a wet-behind-the-ears ensign named Elliott.

  "An unidentified hostile vessel, sir," Wan said as she marched toward him. She'd been much more straight-laced back then (now). In the present (future), he'd managed to loosen her up a smidge, but this Selene Wan was straight out of the United World Starfaring Academy with a rod of titanium up her spine and plenty to prove. "They fired upon us without provocation."

  "Give me eyes." Quasar strode to his captain's chair, gaze fixed on the viewscreen consuming the fore wall.

  "Sir?" Wan sounded confused again.

  Quasar pointed two fingers at his eyes and pivoted the same two fingers toward the screen. "Let's see what we're dealing with here. Keep us steady, helmsman."

  "Yes sir," Elliott said. His pre-adolescent voice had yet to change completely, by all indications.

  "Viewscreen on," Wan announced from her post, close behind the captain's chair.

  As soon as the image came on the screen, Quasar remembered the situation clearly. This was when the Magnitude had traveled through Goobalob space, and the Section 7.158-24 Collections Agents had demanded that Quasar pay a toll—which he'd declined. Then he'd sent two plasma torpedoes into the Goobalobs' engine array. One torpedo would have been sufficient to destroy the ship. Two had been overkill. At the time, however, he hadn't known what it would take to simply disable the alien vessel.

  "Live and learn," he had told his crew with a chuckle.

  He cringed a little now at the memory.

  "Goobalob vessel," he said with authority. "Why have you fired upon us? Explain yourselves."

  The bridge remained silent.

  Wan cleared her throat. "Allow me to open a channel, Captain."

  He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning whatever patience he could muster. "Yes. That would be prudent."

  "But before I do," she began slowly. "What is a goo-blob?"

  Episode 11: Meet the Goobalobs

  The crew's first introduction to the Goobalob species was not a pleasant one. Most crew members recoiled at the sight of the massive, gelatinous creature transmitted via the bridge viewscreen, the myriad eyes of the thing twitching and oozing, secreting an oily substance that also bubbled forth from its every pore and dark orifice.

  "Earth vessel," the Goobalob droned in an apathetic yet melancholy tone, as if it were reading off the same script it had used for decades. "You are not permitted to pass through this space without paying the required toll. We accept two forms of payment: galactic credits and quartz dust. We also offer a monthly payment plan with competitive interest rates—"

  "We apologize." Quasar held up both hands, and most of the creature's eyes twitched to focus on the gesture as if the fingers had spoken instead of the captain's mouth. "We did not realize. If you would allow us to return the way we came, we will find an altern
ate circuit around your space."

  The Goobalob convulsed, ripples passing through what could have been its midsection. Then it belched through an orifice on its starboard side. Quasar couldn't tell if it was sitting or standing, nor could he make out what the interior of the thing's ship looked like. The creature's bulk consumed the entire viewscreen.

  "Impossible. You are currently in our space, and even if you were to travel back the way you came, you would need to travel through our space to do so. Therefore, you must pay the toll."

  "But we didn't know!" Quasar felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Everything was playing out exactly as it had before. But could he change the outcome this time?

  "Ignorance of our tolls is no excuse, Captain. Perhaps you were unaware of the facts a few moments ago, but such is no longer the case. And now that you know, you would be acting in direct violation of our laws by proceeding on your voyage or by retreating to find another route."

  Retreat was never an option, not for the crew of the Effervescent Magnitude and its captain. "Hank, fire up the engines," Quasar said.

  The obvious problem: there was no Hank.

  "Sir?" Wan approached his side.

  "You—Elliott." Quasar faced the helmsman. "Take us out of here. Top speed."

  "Running away will solve nothing, Captain." The Goobalob sounded as uninspired as ever. "We will disable your ship and take whatever we find to be of value as due recompense."

  "You'll have to catch us first." Quasar signaled Wan to cut the channel, and the viewscreen went dark. "Why aren't we moving?"

  "I think they've got us in some kind of motion dampening field or something," Elliott conjectured, pressing his spindly fingers against the screen of his console with no effect. "We're dead in the water, Captain—so to speak."

  Quasar could feel heat snaking up behind his ears. Fury had that effect on him. How dare those belching blobs of jelly halt his ship in its tracks?

  "Weapons," he demanded, pivoting to face the officer in charge of the Magnitude's torpedo array. "Fire a warning shot over their port bow. We'll see if that loosens their hold."

  The weapons officer nodded, her blonde braid bobbing. Quasar remembered her well—Lieutenant Davis. Bright turquoise eyes, athletic physique, a foot shorter than any of the other women on board—which she made up for in feisty spunk. It warmed his heart to see her again.

  "Torpedo away, Captain." Her eyes blazed. Nothing fired her up more than launching torpedoes.

  Quasar dropped into his captain's chair and tapped the console on his right armrest. The viewscreen came alive with the glow of the torpedo blast, radiating outward over the Goobalob ship.

  "They're hailing us," Wan said.

  "Of course they are." Quasar nodded to her.

  "You would dare to fire upon us?" A few of the Goobalob's eyes were wider than they had been earlier.

  "Returning the favor. And there's plenty more where that one came from." He glanced back at Davis, who nodded eagerly. "Release your hold on us, and there will be no need for further violence."

  "You have violated statute 483.672, part 36, paragraph 5 by your act of aggression against our exalted Collections Agency, and I am afraid we must take you into custody to be tried for your crimes at a future date, to be determined when the Council reconvenes after their summer recess."

  As much as he didn't want to repeat the mistake from his past, Captain Quasar now saw no alternative. The Goobalob ship had to be disabled. But maybe this time around, he wouldn't have to destroy it along with every flabby toll collector on board.

  Spinning his chair around to face Davis's post, Quasar made eye contact while his fingers danced across the console on his armrest, relaying the weapons officer's orders. She was to fire a single torpedo, but not into the engine array; that would destroy the Goobalob vessel. Instead, he ordered her to activate the torpedo's detonation five hundred meters from their bow.

  "It's been nice getting to know you—" The captain frowned as he spun his chair back to face the viewscreen. "But I don't believe we've properly introduced ourselves. My name is Captain Bartholomew Quasar, and—"

  "Prepare to be boarded. We have sent a shuttle to dock with your ship."

  The captain paled as the small transport vessel come into view. He leapt out of his chair to shout, "Abort!" but the word died in his throat.

  "Torpedo away!" Davis had already announced with glee.

  Captain Quasar could only watch with a sinking lead weight in his bowels as the Goobalob shuttle passed in front of the larger vessel in time to meet the blast head-on, right in front of the mother ship's bow. The explosion rocked the Goobalob vessel backward like it had taken an uppercut to the chin.

  Episode 12: Brace for Impact

  Helmsman Elliott wasted no time. The Effervescent Magnitude lurched as the Goobalob vessel lost its hold with whatever tractor beam it had used to latch on, and the star cruiser hurtled through space at top speed, the stars in the distance blurring into a frosty white glow. It wasn't anything close to lightspeed, but it would do for now.

  "How many were on board that transport?" Quasar faced his weapons officer. He tamed his furious scowl, knowing full-well it hadn't been her fault. He had given the order.

  "Nine souls, sir." She bore her regret with great composure.

  Even with the grim death toll, the captain couldn't help feeling a sense of relief wash over him. The last time he'd been here and now, that entire Goobalob vessel had exploded, and more than three hundred gelatinous souls had been quenched in an instant.

  "Sir." Commander Wan tapped her console, bringing up a rear-facing vantage point on the viewscreen. The Goobalobs were already on their tail and gobbling up the distance between them. "They're charging weapons."

  "Ready torpedoes!" Quasar heard the words escape him before he had a chance to rethink the situation. Would he end up destroying their ship anyway? "Helmsman, faster would be better!"

  "We're at maximum velocity, sir!" Elliott reported, voice cracking. As if on cue, the Magnitude began to shudder like a little brother dragged up a flight of stairs. "We can't maintain this speed and hope to remain in one piece!"

  The captain patted his console. "She'll give us all she's got and more."

  Red flares erupted simultaneously from the Goobalob ship's port and starboard sides.

  "Brace for—!" Before Quasar could shout impact, the Goobalob rays hit the Magnitude's hull, cutting through the external plating and penetrating the secondary defensive shielding.

  "Captain, we have a hull breach on Deck 6," Wan reported. "Return fire?"

  Quasar hesitated, clenching and releasing his fists. On the viewscreen, another pair of flares headed their way. "Brace yourselves!"

  The Magnitude took another direct hit, this time seeming to drop in place. Quasar's insides buckled. The artificial gravity well had momentarily destabilized. Another hit, and they'd be floating around the interior like the first astronauts to orbit Earth.

  "One torpedo, a hundred meters from their bow," he ordered. "Fire!"

  Davis jammed her fingertips against the console. On the viewscreen, the torpedo flashed out of the Magnitude's rear tube, and a second later its blast momentarily hid the Goobalob vessel from view.

  Quasar leapt from his chair and joined Elliott at the helm. "Change coordinates." He entered them himself, leaving the helmsman to gape, wide-eyed. "Maintain velocity."

  The Magnitude veered from its present course and proceeded at a sudden forty-five degree alteration down the z-axis.

  "Let's see them throw their weight around outside their own space." Quasar narrowed his gaze at the viewscreen.

  "You really think this is going to work?" Steve blocked his view all of a sudden, standing there with his cloak and oaken staff and eyes twinkling with amusement.

  Quasar dropped back with a curse.

  "Captain?" Elliott stared at the captain, not the apparition.

  "They can't—" The captain frowned. No one else seemed to notice Ste
ve's presence on the bridge.

  "No, but they can see and hear you, so you might want to exercise caution. Otherwise, that power-hungry first officer of yours might relieve you of duty on account of psychological instability, maybe toss you in the brig."

  Quasar squared his shoulders. "Carry on, helmsman."

  Another shudder racked the ship. Elliott cringed as if the ceiling would collapse on him. The viewscreen—what Quasar managed to see of it around Steve—showed the Goobalobs on a pursuit course.

  "You won't be able to shake them." Steve shrugged. "You might as well destroy them."

  "Not this time," Quasar said.

  "Captain?" Elliott stared up at him.

  "You honestly think you can alter the past?" Steve cocked his head to one side as if he were listening to something. "Intriguing."

  Quasar ignored him. The truth was, they had already changed history. That Goobalob ship was still in one piece, and the Magnitude had suffered four direct hits. Nothing like this had happened the last time. Then, the situation had been cut and dried: the captain had refused to pay the toll, and he'd destroyed the Goobalob vessel—not intentionally, but regardless, the situation ended quickly. There'd been none of this current fleeing for their lives nonsense.

  "Here's an idea: how about you just pay their ridiculous toll? It can't be that much, really. Not for a fancy Earth vessel like this one." Steve reached out an open hand toward the captain. "Have you even considered it?"

  Unfortunately, that was no longer an option. According to Goobalob law, whenever one of their ships was fired upon, they had the right to board the offending ship, take anything they wanted as due recompense, and enslave the crew—their form of incarceration for what they deemed to be grievous offenses. A younger Captain Quasar would not have known this yet, nor would his crew. But the older, wiser captain who now inhabited his younger self knew without a doubt that there could be no reasoning with their pursuers. They had only two options here: flight or fight.