The Star Collector

by Matthew William

  “Joe, my boy – you see the flashing light on this thing?” Alma asked, holding up the plastic bag with the blinking artifact inside.

  “When did it start flashing?” Tammy asked.

  “Back in my office,” Alma answered. “And this flashing light is what we in the antique game like to call a snag. You remember what a snag is, Joe, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Joe said.

  “It’s something that makes a buyer think they can get a discount. And without confirmation that it’s not going to explode once they set it on their bookshelf, it’s like a 90% off coupon.”

  “We’ll go someplace else. There’s bound to be someone, somewhere willing to hook us up with Halle,” Joe said. He tried to grab Alma’s palm pilot, but she held it out of reach.

  “I’m sorry, Joe, but this decision is final.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Joe grumbled as drove the ship further along in the caravan. He turned to Tammy.

  “Rule number four. ‘When I say no calls back to the outpost, I mean no calls back to the outpost.’”

  The girl nodded sheepishly and wrote “No calls” on her manual.

  There was a tense silence in the cabin.

  “I know just the thing to cheer you all up,” Tammy said with the snap of her fingers.

  Joe glanced over her.

  “A macchiato,” she said. With a smile she hopped up and went back to the kitchen.

  “Ooh, I’ll take one, please,” Alma said.

  “Tell me your ship has an espresso machine,” Tammy pleaded.

  Joe looked over to Alma. “I’m going to kill this kid.”

  “Well, wait until I get my macchiato first,” Alma said. She moved up to the passenger seat and opened the video call program. “I guess I’ll contact Cassandra.”

  Joe groaned, put the ship on autopilot and sulked back through the kitchen. Tammy was pouring through the cabinets, presumably looking for an espresso machine.

  “I’ll take a rain check on that macchiato,” Joe said.

  “What? Oh, yeah… suit yourself,” Tammy replied.

  Joe opened the drawer in the wall to tend to his plants. It wasn’t quite time to water them yet, but he needed something to distract him. He opened the lid. The seedlings had grown a little larger, not much, but the progress was noticeable. At the end of the row, where there used to be one large tomato plant surrounded by runts, now had a new largest seedling. The runt out on the edge of the cup had outgrown the largest seedling and was now the biggest plant in his entire collection. Had Joe picked them yesterday, he would’ve plucked what was now his strongest plant. Apparently, survival of the fittest was all about timing.

  From the cabin he could hear Cassandra’s voice answering the video call. Joe got up and went upstairs to his bedroom, leaving his plants on the table. He punched the wall as he walked.

  Once in his room, Joe collapsed onto his bed. He eyed the display and for a while he wrestled with the idea of eavesdropping on Alma’s conversation with Cassandra. Although he knew it was wrong, he just needed to know what his ex had to say. He opened the communications program. It informed him that a call was still ongoing. Joe pressed the ear icon that allowed him to listen in.

  “Sector 121 outpost,” came Tyrone the operator’s voice.

  “This is Tammy Rosario reporting.”

  Apparently Alma’s call to Cassandra was over. And Tammy was calling the outpost again. She sure was a slow learner.

  “Are you in Chinese custody?”

  “No, we escaped,” the girl answered, but was silent for a moment. “They were going to kill us.”

  The operator said nothing.

  ‘Surprise, surprise,’ thought Joe.

  “Did you know that was going to happen?” Tammy asked.

  “Tammy, you’ve messed with some very powerful people. This goes way above you. It goes way above me for that matter.”

  “So you gave them our location and whatever happened to me was fine?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I’m turning the homing beacon off,” Tammy said.

  “I’ll have to ask you not to do that,” the operator replied.

  “Why?” Tammy asked.

  “It’s against company policy.”

  With that the call ended.

  Joe sighed. Under different circumstances he would have just dropped her off at the nearest space port. But now? That would probably be a death sentence for the girl. The Chinese were after her as well, and she no longer had the protection of the outpost – what little good that was anyway.

  Hopefully she had learned her lesson. No one gives a damn about anyone.

  He thought back to the problem at hand. Cassandra just couldn’t be the only person in this part of the galaxy with Halle access. Was Alma merely doing this to get back at him for dragging her into this disaster?

  Joe decided to call up somebody who owed him a favor.

  Deniz McGee answered, dressed in a business suit, his hair extra springy and sitting before an office window. It was the dead of night and a massive drill on the horizon behind him was lit up and aimed down at the planet's core. Joe realized he hadn’t bothered to think what time it was on Deniz’s planet.

  “Burning the midnight oil?” Joe asked.

  “Have to,” Deniz said. “I’m glad you called by the way. I’ve been meaning to apologize for what happened at the diner. Alistair is a lowlife, I should have never hired him.”

  “Maybe you can it make up to me,” Joe said.

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Do you know anyone with Halle access?”

  “Ooh, that is a biggie. I’ll have to check.” Deniz scribbled a note to himself. “Joe, that reminds me. What do you know about that robbery at the ruins?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “The investigation was shut down almost instantly.”

  “Interesting,” Joe said.

  “Yes, it is,” Deniz replied, suspicion in his voice. “And I take it you know something?”

  “Maybe I’ll tell you after this is all said and done,” Joe bluffed. Tempting Deniz with information was the only advantage he had.

  “Do I have to wait that long? After everything we’ve been through?”

  “I think so.”

  “What if I give you my theory?” Deniz suggested. “And if I’m on the right track, would you tell me?”

  “Go ahead.” Joe sat back and crossed his arms. Maybe he could get some free information.

  “They were after dark energy.”

  “Dark energy?” asked Joe. Trying to piece together what he knew with what Deniz might be thinking.

  “There was a transmission intercepted from a Chinese battleship, claiming that they had found dark energy coming from somewhere in the ruins.”

  “Hmm. I see. How much dark energy are we talking?”

  “Well, it was the source of... all of it.”

  “All of it?”

  “Yes indeed, that’s what they said anyway. It’s hard to track, you know? Since it doesn’t follow the same rules as normal energy. Took them years and years to figure it out it was all coming from the ruins.”

  Joe shook his head in shock. “That’s more energy than all the stars in the universe combined.”

  “So, am I onto something here?”

  “Go on...” Joe said. This was beginning to get interesting.

  “Here’s my personal theory” Deniz said. “According to a by-law, the United States technically owned the neutral zone. And they knew about the dark energy years ago, but sat on it because the energy companies paid them to. So the Chinese Galactic Empire was raiding the ruins because they believe they’d found a source of limitless clean energy. And I mean squeaky clean.”

  Joe nodded and thought for a moment. Here he was, impeding mankind’s progress and for what – a few billion credits? He’d still sell the artifact, of course, but not without a bit of guilt. “You might be onto something there, Deniz.”

  “But th
at’s not it?” Deniz asked.

  “I’ll tell you when I know more,” Joe said. “Get back to me about that Halle connection.”

  “Alright. Ciao!”

  Joe hung up as fast as he could. He laid back on his bed and stared up at the metal ceiling of his bedroom. There had to be somebody else with a Halle connection near-by.

  Alma came up to his doorway. “Cassandra said she can take us in under one condition...”

  Joe waited for the punchline.

  “... that you don’t get out of the ship.”

  “That’s great,” Joe said. “Not even to use the bathroom?”

  “You have a bathroom on the ship, I presume?”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “I see. Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Joe. We need this Halle meeting more than anything and going through Cassandra is the only way to get it.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll try my best not to be difficult.”

  “Alright. Sleep well, Joe,” Alma said and went back down the stairs.

  Joe glanced at his starsailor’s compass. There were 16 hours to kill before they made it to Bolstra 5. He took the Applebottom book from the shelf and began to read from a random page.

  The Crown jewel of Talashaa space was their homeworld, made famous by the ruins of their Dyson Sphere. This potentially made them a Type 2 Civilization.

  A Type 1 Civilization, or a planetary civilization, capitalizes on all the energy available to them on their home planet. This includes things like fossil fuels as well as maximizing on all solar, wind, hydro and geothermal prospects. Mankind had begun colonizing other worlds long before reaching Type 1 status on Earth.

  A Type 2 Civilization, or a stellar civilization, can harness the total energy output of its home star, potentially using a Dyson sphere, a device that surrounds the star and captures all of the energy emanating out from it. Mankind is yet to reach Type 2 status and most likely never will, since we seem to be hellbent on destroying ourselves first.

  A Type 3 Civilization, which would be called a galactic civilization, could control the energy of an entire galaxy or more. It is unlikely that this type of civilization has ever existed or will ever exist at all, since it seems to take too long for a species to advance that far without going extinct first.

  If we were to ever encounter a Type 3 Civilization they would seem like no less than gods to us.

  The Talashaa reached Level 2 status shortly before disappearing.

  Joe stopped reading for a second. Why would the Talashaa need a dark energy source if they had a Dyson Sphere? He read on.

  The construction of a Dyson Sphere would be a project on a scale unimaginable to us humans. The dark energy that would be produced as an industrial byproduct would be beyond our means to handle.

  “That could explain it...” Joe said to himself.

  After all this trouble, maybe the artifact was nothing more than a battery for sucking up dark energy.

  That reminded him. On his starsailor’s compass, he brought up the auction website for black market collectors, StarBay. It was an encrypted site and completely impossible to tell who was viewing it and from where. There was a long complicated process to get access and a leak would mean career suicide for whomever was responsible. Thus, Joe felt safe enough to list an item for sale.

  Talashaa Artifact

  Condition: Excellent

  Material: Unknown

  Age: At least 3 billion years

  He liked to keep it vague to get the word of mouth going among the collectors. And then, once Joe got the information from Halle, he’d add that to the listing and the bidding would go berserk. He’d done this all a hundred times before... just not with anything that would make him ultra-rich.

  With that, he switched off the lamp and went to sleep.

  Through the empty stellar night the Crown Vik traveled, the only light from the caravan’s largest tankers, their searchlights scanning the surrounding blackness for raiders.

  9

  “I hope you have results to report,” the Chairman said. The hologram was eerily high definition, and only vaguely transparent. It was projected to make the Chairman seem 10% larger than he was in real life.

  “They’re traveling away from Falsterboo in a caravan,” Applebottom said and took a bite from a stalk of celery.

  “You call that results? You were supposed to be acquiring the artifact.”

  “I’ll tell you. Number one: They removed the artifact from the box...”

  “So you can track it now?” the Chairman cut in.

  “Exactly.”

  “Then what’s stopping you from taking it?”

  “Well, I was about to get to number two: They’re headed for the border of Coalition space.”

  “Where?”

  “The southwest corridor. By our calculations they’ll cross the border in a few hours. Either they’re running aimlessly or they’re trying to stay very low. There’s nowhere within reason that they could be going in that direction. Whatever the case, once they leave the Coalition we can operate without restraint, unlike the operation on Falsterboo.”

  “Speaking of which, were you able to get all your men off the planet?” the Chairman asked.

  “Every single one.”

  “No repercussions?”

  “None whatsoever. They’re blaming our actions as the work of Vegan terrorists. Or at least that’s what being reported on the news.”

  “That’s all that matters in the end,” the Chairman said.

  Applebottom nodded and took another crunch of celery.

  “Well, this seems to be working out fine then,” the Chairman said. “They’ll transport the artifact for us to a world not protected by the Coalition, and there we can make the extraction.”

  “I would like to ask permission to use whatever force necessary,” Applebottom said.

  “Of course. There will be no Coalition to upset and no corporation to pay to cover up the news. No one will care.”

  “Good, because we’re running out of time,” Applebottom said.

  “There was never much time to begin with,” the Chairman replied.

  10

  Joe gazed out the view screen.

  Bolstra 5 sat like a blue jewel in space. It had golden rings, which was extremely rare for a solid planet that size, and was so pretty Joe couldn’t help but forget the sour feelings he had connected to his time there. The single large continent was sparsely populated and mostly by hippies. Some people lived out on the rings, the glow from the planet’s surface and the nearby star keeping them warm.

  The Talashaa had settled here as well. They built one building, a massive temple with carbon pillars for support, running deep into Bolstra 5’s crust.

  This planet and the temple ruins were the holy site for Talashamen, the religious group that worshiped the aliens. The founder of Talashism, John Merger, settled here a hundred and fifty years previous. He was the first human to explore the planet’s surface. When investigating the temple site he was allegedly given a vision of the “Great Talashaa Specter” and was moved to spend the rest of his life spreading the message to others.

  Joe had learned from Applebottom’s book that John Merger had actually settled here to grow pot without paying taxes. So the weed, along with the nitrogen rich atmosphere and the deep tones from the rumblings of the planet’s moving core, were what gave him the religious experience he had found so moving. The Talashamen always left that part out of the story.

  Other than the scattered Talashamen, Bolstra 5 was nearly untouched. And there was good reason for that. There was nothing to profit from.

  There was no metal in the soil. No precious stones, no minerals or resources to be mined, and the tectonic plates would shift constantly so whatever was built was eventually destroyed. It was on the way to nowhere and had no sand beaches or mountains – so being a transport hub or vacation destination was out of the question. The land was extraordinarily fertile, but didn’t grow anything exp
ensive particularly well. So long story short, there was no reason for any corporation to found a colony there, and so none did.

  As such, the Talashamen viewed the planet as a spiritual escape. A place to leave the technology and greed of the modern world behind.

  Joe pulled his ship down towards the southwestern shore of the mega-continent. His hands were sweaty on the controls. As he recognized different landmarks, the bitter feelings began to surface. A hill he used to climb and meditate made him resentful. The pink pub where they used to hang out with friends brought sorrow. The tree where he used to smoke weed and connect with the Great Talashaa Specter caused embarrassment. It was an unpleasant stroll down memory lane.

  The ship descended onto the coast and landed smoothly on a hill overlooking the bay. Sticking up from the windblown grass was a sign that read: University: 12 km.

  That was where Cassandra worked. Joe sighed and went back to check on his plants. He had left them out on the table, covered by the metal lid.

  “How can they have a university if earthquakes rattle everything to the ground?” Tammy asked.

  “Exactly,” Joe said, filling a pitcher with water.

  “They keep rebuilding it,” Alma said. “That’s Talashamen for you, they believe in rebuilding, regrowth, reincarnation.”

  “Well, that’s stupid,” Tammy said.

  “I agree with you,” Joe answered, turning off the faucet.

  “Only weak religions rely on reincarnation,” Tammy continued.

  “Don’t they… all rely on reincarnation?” Joe asked. But no answer came. He glanced over at Tammy.

  She was leaning over to Alma and whispered, “What happened between Joe and his ex?”

  The old woman looked back to make eye contact with Joe. “You better ask him.”

  “You really think he’ll tell me?”

  “Most certainly not. But I’m not going to either.”

  Joe cracked a smile and lifted the cover from his plants. All the seedlings were now withered and brown. “What the hell?”