by Hugo Huesca
They arrived at a domed central chamber filled with people in white uniforms. The chamber was circular and big enough to remind him of the reception area of any Financial District corporation. But the place lacked the seriousness of the corporations and was instead bristling with activity. People coming and going from every direction, some driving sleek, white plasteel carts. Others carried equipment that Kipp didn’t recognize, some read the holographic screens that floated tastefully close to the crystal dome of the place. The dome was a screen and was currently pretending to be the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
Everyone seemed to have a purpose.
Kipp guessed they were military—because of the way they carried themselves. But it didn’t fit. They looked more like the navy.
He didn’t recognize any faces—of course—but as James and he entered the chamber, everyone turned to look at them.
At least a dozen pairs of eyes studied Kipp from head to toe. He smiled at them and waved.
This seemed to break them out of their spell. They turned to James and saluted him.
“Captain Dorsett!” someone exclaimed.
James’ salute had the same formal intensity the people in the chamber showed to him, which clashed with the way he was dressed. But then he gestured at them. “At ease, people. Don’t scare him.”
“I’m not scared,” Kipp said.
“Coming back from the dead can be a terrifying experience, so of course he can barely stop himself from shaking,” James went on like he hadn’t heard him. “He’s going through an existential crisis right now.”
“Ah, so you’re going to be like that,” Kipp grunted.
Strangely enough, he knew what James was doing. He was breaking the ice for him, making sure he saw the—soldiers?—people around him as part of a group. A team. Not a threat.
He had difficulty putting it into words. It was one of the things Captains did, even if he himself had only been a virtual one.
One of the soldiers sighed and walked towards them. “Captain. I see the stem-reg went as well as the theory predicted.”
Kipp raised an eyebrow at that. “Predicted? Do you mean this is the first time you’ve tried to revive someone?”
Sounds awfully irresponsible, he said with his expression instead of with words. There were supposed to be tests. Trials. A lot of careful examination…Had the future forgotten about scientific responsibility?
James coughed and offered his best charming smile. “There’s extenuating circumstances. I’ll explain in a moment, Kipp, trust me. It’s just that there’s so much to tell you, I admit I don’t know where to start. And believe me, I’ve thought about this moment a lot.”
The officer next to James looked fondly at his Captain and then turned towards Kipp. “Mister Patel. We’re glad to have you with us on this…historic day. I’m sure the paralyzing existential terror will recede in a moment.”
Then he said to James: “I’m afraid there’s been a call from the Hegemony. No chance to avoid it this time, Captain. They’re threatening to jam us.”
James sighed. “That’s bullshit.”
“But can we risk calling their bluff? We’ve tested the limits of their patience already.”
“Faust, you should have been a politician,” James laughed. “It’s the President herself who’s calling, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’ll answer right away.”
He gestured at Kipp to follow them and the two officers set a brisk pace towards a central corridor that dominated the perimeter of the chamber. No traffic came or went from this one, but everyone stepped aside from James and Faust as Kipp followed suit and tried to keep their pace.
Kipp knew that only a night ago, he wouldn’t have been able to sustain a moderately fast walk, much less this march. The very idea was exhilarating. He wanted to run. To throw his arms in the air and scream.
Too much was happening.
While they walked, James introduced him to Faust. “This is my second-in-command, Kipp. My right arm is only half as useful as Johannes Faust.”
“That’s because you use your arms to get into trouble,” Faust said, “instead of using your legs to get away from it.”
The corridors were filled with crew members, instruments, sleek drones, and assorted equipment that Kipp couldn’t identify. It seemed to him that even though the facility was spacious, every square meter was necessary.
“First thing you have to know,” James told him after a while, “is that your Key is common knowledge now. Cole succeeded in activating it. We know what was behind it.”
Kipp’s heart skipped a bit. He should have seen it coming, given everyone’s reactions towards him, but a few hours ago, to him, he had been agonizing on his bed.
“And?” he whispered.
“It changed the world,” James said. He stopped in his tracks to look at Kipp square in the eyes. “I’m not kidding. The Signal was extraterrestrial in origin. It was connected to every other advanced civilization in the known universe.”
Kipp blinked once. Then again. Then he muttered something under his breath, not even aware he was doing so.
“This has to be a simulation,” he finally said, looking around. Searching for pixels. It was clear the future had advanced their computer physics.
James smiled. “Not as far as I’m aware. Now, the bad news… We lost connection to the Signal a few years after activating it. Rune Universe has been inaccessible ever since, although some think it’s still running as a backup instance in other Cores…”
Seeing Kipp’s expression, James sighed and started from the beginning.
Kipp was so stunned he had to make an effort of will not to tune James’ explanation off while his brain tried to sort the news.
Cole had done it. Kipp had never doubted it. But he had also never known the Signal would exceed his greatest expectations. Even with all the danger…Cole, Irene, Walpurgis, Beard… They not only had believed in his dream. They had made it their own.
This is what you were working for all your life, he thought, remembering his parents. Discretely, he swiped away a tear.
Then James reached the part of the tale where the Core had been shut down. “We weren’t ready,” he concluded. “We were moving too fast.”
“One insane asshole ruined it for everyone?” Kipp asked. “That’s not fair.”
At this, James shook his head with a sad smile. “Life can be like that.”
“What happened next?”
“Ah, well. Humanity went through many rough spots after that. One would think at some point we would stop clashing heads against one another, but some things don’t change. New countries rose, others were absorbed. A couple wars, but nothing on a World War scale, thank you very much. I wasn’t born during yet, by the way. Dad says people were still tired from the Keles Disaster. Not much will to fight left.
“During all this,” he went on, “my parents never stopped claiming that the Signal could be reactivated, that we could regain what we had lost. It was hard to make their voices heard, at first, with all the chaos. But slowly they gained support. They had coordinates, you see? To our Alien friends’ home planet. They argued that, if they could access their own Core, perhaps they could restore ours from backup. It was Mom that garnered the support of the big leaguers. Our former President, Caputi, was always fond of her. So a new space program was launched.”
Kipp raised an eyebrow at that. Remaining on top of James’ story was taking huge effort, but at the same time, he could see Irene Monferrer rallying the Western civilization towards a new space program. It was the kind of challenge she thrived on.
He could almost see them, Cole and Irene, working together during that time. Cole’s stubbornness would’ve fit well with Irene’s. Yeah. Perhaps they could make it work.
Still…
“The real world is not Rune,” Kipp said lamely. “We can’t just travel a couple million lightyears from a planet to another. That’s why the Signal was created in the first place, right? To skip the limits
of the speed of light.”
“That’s one theory,” Faust countered. “There are others. And we have made advances in physics and mathematics over the last forty years. We haven’t been slacking.”
James nodded. “There’s still a long way to go before we can cross huge amounts of distance at will. But we can do more than we could in your time, Kipp. Even then…We’ve had setbacks.
“It was only ten years ago that the first expedition was launched, with the intention of reaching the Alien planet. The trip was supposed to last a hundred years. Mom and Dad were on it.”
James’ expression was distant, but his voice was steady. Whatever his feelings on the subject, he kept them close to his heart.
Kipp’s face paled. “What happened?”
“The solar sail had a malfunction,” James said as they started walking again. “Power failure. Not enough acceleration. Their ship has been drifting for a year, a derelict with only enough power to keep its life support systems online. We only got notice of it recently.”
Kipp wanted to scream.
James’ story had given him so much in such a short amount of time. Kipp had believed he’d get to see his friends again—he didn’t give a damn about the age difference—and that they would share their adventures with him. The future they had built with their own hands.
He realized that James had placed a hand on his shoulder. It was a firm grip. “Don’t lose hope, yet. I haven’t.”
He was going to say something else, but Faust announced. “We’ve arrived. Pay attention, Kipp, this is relevant to what you’ve heard.”
They had reached a circular door guarded by two men armed with automatic rifles slung over their shoulders. The men saluted James and Faust and glanced at Kipp with slightly more professionalism than the rest of the members of James’ crew.
There were no security measures—at least that Kipp was aware of. The doors made a hydraulic noise as they opened, and faint traces of ozone hit Kipp’s nostrils.
Kipp glanced at the interior and in an instant pieced together the missing parts of James’ story.
That’s why you haven’t lost hope, he thought.
He could recognize the place. Even if he had never been there before. Just by the sound of the crew prancing around over chromed controls and the ping of the computers.
No way around it. It was a command deck.
“Captain on deck!” the guards announced. About a dozen officers turned to James and Kipp and saluted.
“We’re on a ship,” Kipp whispered to James and Faust as they stepped into the room like it was their house. His legs were frozen with surprise. This was no military installation…At the end of the cabin, which was as large as that of any Dreadnought’s in Rune Universe, was a series of steel curtains covering plasteel panelings.
James reached the middle of the cabin before turning back. He glanced at one woman. With a gesture from her, the curtains lifted away, revealing a black void sprinkled with innumerable stars.
Real stars. Not simulated. They were truly drifting through space at who-knew-how-fast speeds. Kipp could see the exterior of the ship, bulky and gray and huge, how it extended until it reached a great, metallic globe that occupied the lower half of the image. A solar sail.
“Welcome, again,” said James. “I knew you’d piece it together, Kipp. Welcome to the Rescue Ship Apollo.”
Kipp reached James and Faust feeling like he must be dreaming. Perhaps a dying hallucination?
Nah, he told himself. This has to be real. It’s too insane not to be.
He was aware all eyes in the cabin were set on him. Now that he had pierced it together, he was sure why. It was more than simple curiosity at the first successful stem-reg.
The smile on his face was genuine. “I know what you’re doing,” he told James.
James grinned at him.
A man in his mid-fifties crossed the cabin to reach them.
“You should have made an announcement, Captain. We had no idea the stem-reg was successful. We have been chewing our nails here for hours.”
He had Russian features, but his English accent was flawless. Before James could introduce them, he was already offering a handshake to Kipp. “My father talked about you, Mister Patel. Gabrijel Ivanic, if you remember him?”
“Of course I remember Beard!” Kipp exclaimed. He took notice of the man’s receding hairline. His hair was brown, almost red. “You must be little Misha!”
At that, Misha made a sound like he was choking. He passed a hand over his eyes. “Sorry. It’s been a long time since anyone called me that.”
“Doctor Ivanic is the greatest mind of our generation,” James told Kipp, patting Misha on the shoulder. “He built the solar sail.”
“I should have built it better,” Misha countered. “The Friendly Intentions is damaged because my sail failed. I’m sorry, Kipp. I know the Dorsetts are your friends.”
It was very, very awkward seeing a grown man trying his best not to cry.
“Hey,” Kipp said gently. “I’m sure they trusted you. Cole may have jumped on a toaster with wings glued to it if you told him it was a spaceship, but Irene was always more careful. And you came with us to get them back. So that makes it right.”
A wave of murmurs extended over the Apollo’s crew. Faust glanced with surprise at James. “You told him? When?”
“Nah,” James said. “He figured it out on his on.”
At least now I’m not the one who is standing around with his mouth open, Kipp thought with satisfaction. It was good to know he still had the knack for dramatic timing. Another Captain’s skill, even if there were no skill ranks for it. It came with the package.
But before he had time to explain (and gloat a bit, who he was kidding?) a computer made a bell noise and a woman announced. “Another ping from the President, Captain. We’re about to reach the limit of short-range comms. They won’t be able to jam us then.”
“Let’s talk to her then. Put her on the big screen, Gina. Kipp, come here real quick. Try to look adorable, okay?”
Kipp raised an eyebrow, but before he could decide if James was kidding, a hologram appeared in front of them.
It carried the image of a woman in her mid-thirties—with some anti-aging thrown in the mix—wearing a black suit. She was inclined forward with a stern look in her eyes so intense that they were only a metaphor away from drilling a hole in the Apollo. Or through the target of her rage: James.
She opened her mouth to speak, then she caught a glimpse of Kipp standing just next to James, who was smiling beatifically.
Her features were unmistakable.
“Hello, Auntie,” James said.
The President of the States Hegemony stared in astonishment at Kipp, and they spoke at the same time:
“Van?”
“Kipp?”
“You’re the fucking President?!”
“They already brought you back?”
“How the hell are you the President?”
She turned to James: “You didn’t tell him?”
“You didn’t tell me?” Kipp said, doing the same.
The Captain of the Apollo scratched his back and took a moment to decide which questions warranted his attention first. He decided on the President’s.
“He just recovered from the stem-reg a few hours ago. He woke from anesthesia in less than that. All in all, he has barely any idea what’s going on. Poor guy is terrified.”
“I’m pretty okay,” Kipp protested. “At least until I realized I lived in a timeline where Van Dorsett could become the President.”
“Any problem with that, kiddo?” Van half-growled at him—but in a friendly manner. The gesture took ten years off her face although it only lasted an instant.
Neither of them paid attention to the pained (and in some cases, terrified) expressions of the members of the Apollo’s crew.
“Well, that’s it,” Kipp said. “Either someone explains what’s going on or I’m going to have an existential cr
isis right here and now.”
“I really want to catch up,” said Van. “We’ve missed you, man. It’s glad to see you walking and all, but in these circumstances…Time is short. Please, hang on a little.”
She faced James and the sternness returned to her face. Lines of expression that weren’t there last time Kipp had seen her framed her eyes in a way that deeply disturbed him. “James Dorsett. I hope you’re aware of the consequences of your actions. You’ve been stripped of your rank. The Hegemony Navy has issued a court martial against you for treason. You’re advised to return at once or you shall be judged with all the rigor reserved for traitors. The Hegemony has never, in its history—”
“About a decade or so,” James whispered to Kipp. The former Captain seemed to be taking the (terrifying) charges in stride. Hell, he even looked impatient.
This feels like dropping in right in the middle of a movie, Kipp thought gloomily.
“—seen an act of vandalism like yours. You’ve disappointed quite a few people and put a lot of pressure on my shoulders. There are mobs out there, James, calling for my skin. The Apollo is worth trillions. Do you know what will happen to the space program if you fail? If the ship gets destroyed?”
“Of course I know,” James said. “I’m fully aware of it.”
“This is your parents’ dreams you’re gambling with,” Van said.
“That’s why I won’t fail,” he said. “The Apollo will survive. We will bring them back.”
Misha reached James’ shoulder with one muscular hand. “I can vouch for the ship, Van. The sail will hold. And if it doesn’t…well, I’m here in that case. I’ll fix it myself.”
“Mankind can’t afford to lose your brain,” Van told the scientist. “If the sail breaks down, send my stupid nephew to fix it.”
Something strange was happening to Van. The anger was draining from her face so fast it almost seemed an act. In fact, she looked over her shoulder as if she was making sure they were alone.
“Honestly, James… The smart move would be to turn back. There are too many variables at play. Your father would want you to come home.”
“I know,” he said. There was a pride to his stance that even Kipp could notice. It wasn’t the stance he’d expect for someone accused of treason.
