Strange Cosmology

by Alex Raizman

  The truth was, Project Myrmidon was already funded for the next decade. It was a small operation and was able to rely on technology they were developing in house. However, the truth wasn’t necessary at the moment. The President needed an answer that would mollify the public and appease his base, and Dale’s suggestion would do that. Emphasize the size of the threat, the precautions taken to ensure public safety, and then blame Congress. Really, it would be a politician’s dream soundbite.

  “All right,” President Mason said after a moment. “I can sell that. But no more of this, Admiral. No more attacks on American soil.”

  “I can’t promise that, Mister President,” Dale said carefully. “Right now, every piece of intelligence we have on Ryan Smith is based on his connections within the United States. We can’t predict anywhere he might go outside of our borders, and that means we’ll always be one step behind.”

  Dale tried to think of a way to argue that the failure in Ghana was worse than the defeat and California but couldn’t figure out how to do it. He decided that it was best not to mention that incident at all.

  The President sighed. “No more missiles, Admiral. No more explosives. You get your job done with the Myrmidons, and if that means you have to sit out a possible engagement, then that’s what you do. No attacks on the target unless the Myrmidons are ready to handle the situation on their own. Am I clear on that, at least?”

  “Yes, sir.” This time, the two-word answer held no insolence. In truth, the attack on Ryan had driven home what both Lazzario and Pivarti had been telling Dale: a threat of this type would only be stopped by unconventional means. The Myrmidons were his only answer.

  “Good. Now get out of my office, and don’t screw the pooch again. The next time I call you in here, it had better be because we have something to celebrate.”

  ***

  Lazzario Littleton, supernerd and comic writer extraordinaire, had been adamant that no one should be allowed to communicate with Bast. “Ninety percent of the time,” he’d said, “someone is going to get too chummy with the prisoner. That always leads to disaster. It’s going to be tempting to take off the mask to interrogate her, but that absolutely cannot happen. Furthermore, a man should never be around the prisoner without supervision. Romantic interest is the leading cause of sympathy.”

  Cassandra found it both amusing and sad that Lazzario seemed to have forgotten that a woman could be attracted to another woman. Cassandra herself had no such inclinations, but it could happen. She was grateful for his oversight, though, because it meant that no one was focused on her unsupervised evenings in the lab.

  She had rejected the idea that she should let comic book tropes run her life. Lazzario’s attitude, which the rest of the team had adopted, prevented them from gaining valuable knowledge. Questioning Bast could give them so much insight into history, science, and the nature and power of these divine beings. She hated that they were missing a golden opportunity because of needless paranoia.

  As for sympathy, that had nothing to do with romantic attraction or fictional logic. It was a matter of basic human decency. Bast was a criminal? Fine. A prisoner? Fine. An unwilling experimental subject? Every day that became harder for Cassandra to justify, but she’d made her peace with it. However, they should be trying to do their work in the most humane way possible, instead of strapping a sentient, intelligent person to a table without food, water, or mental stimulation. Even lab rats were treated better than that.

  Cassandra stopped outside the door to the laboratory, taking a deep breath and glancing back and forth to make sure that the hallway was empty. It was a ridiculous habit that she couldn’t seem to shake. Of course, the corridor would be abandoned; the guards didn’t go beyond the security checkpoint without reason. She had checked in with Gary just a few minutes ago, so it wasn’t like she was trying to hide. Besides, she had every right to be here and had been working late for days without anyone paying particular attention.

  The lab was empty, just as she’d expected.

  “Hello, Bast,” she said. “It’s just us, so give me just a second to get the mirror in place.”

  Bast raised a single thumb. They had managed to add some very limited hand gestures to Bast’s silent communication, taking it a tiny step past blinking once for yes and twice for no. It was small progress, but progress nonetheless.

  As she began to position the mirror, Cassandra reflected that it was a little challenging to start these talks. Social niceties like “How are you?” seemed inappropriate, if not downright cruel. She had decided that it was best to just jump right in since Bast certainly wasn’t capable of directing the conversation.

  “Before...all of this, did you ever get lonely?” she asked.

  Bast gave her a single blink of affirmation.

  “Even when you were part of a pantheon?” Cassandra pressed.

  Bast blinked again, and although it was hard to see through the small holes in the mask, Cassandra thought the goddess’s lips twist in bitter amusement.

  “It’s funny,” she said, “how other people can make you feel lonely. I look at my coworkers and listen to them talk, and usually, it makes me feel worse. They have their families and friends and hobbies, and I just...never got around to those things.”

  Last night, when she couldn’t sleep, Cassandra had taken stock of her life. She had always been driven and focused on her goals, so much so that friends had drifted away and boyfriends had stalked away. She had left so much for “after”: after undergrad, her thesis, her Ph.D., establishing herself in her field. Only recently had she realized that now, when “after” was here, she didn’t know how to begin finding the connections she’d ignored for so long.

  “I think I talk to you more in an evening than I talk to other people in a week,” she told Bast. “Unless you count work talk, I guess.”

  In Bast’s eyes, she saw sympathy and understanding. Human emotions. Human eyes. The subject of an inhuman experiment.

  Cassandra looked around the lab, the end goal of her years of study and work and sacrifice and hated herself for being there.

  ***

  It was a relief for Dale to be back in the base, away from the stuffy air of Washington and its politicians trying to tell him how to save the damn world. It was obnoxious, but the only thing that mattered was stopping the Antichrist. Anything else – his career, his life, his President, maybe even his country – could be sacrificed in pursuit of that goal. His team seemed to be the only ones who truly understood the situation. Parvathi might be cold and distant, but she was dedicated to the cause. Lazzario might be irritating, but he knew what they were up against. The rest of them, all of them, were - in a way Dale had never imagined before - heroes. They’d never held a gun, but they were fighting in their own way.

  “I think that went as well as we could have hoped for, Admiral,” Lazzario said. “The President isn’t overly restricting us, and...well, it appears that these beings are pretty much immune to conventional firearms. We haven’t lost anything.”

  “Sir, may I ask a question?”

  Dale turned to Jake, shocked to hear him doing anything other than mindlessly agreeing with everything Lazzario said. “Go ahead.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Jake looked slightly uncomfortable at having Dale’s full attention, but he plunged ahead. “One thing that often happens when, when these situations get out of hand is...well, off the top of my head, I can think of four films, three television shows, twenty-three novels, and forty-six comic book issues where the President orders a nuclear strike on American soil to destroy an unconventional threat when even unconventional measures have failed. Do we...I mean, should we…”

  Dale shook his head to reassure him. “The President never would, and the Joint Chiefs agree with this assessment. These beings triggered a nuclear strike on Canadian soil as part of a fight amongst themselves. Until we know what they’re capable of, no one is going to suggest turning the conflict between them and us into a nuclear one. Not unless th
ey escalate it first.”

  Pivarti tapped her fingers on the table. “I don’t think they will,” she said after a moment’s thought. “In fact, I’m certain of it. Ryan and his cohorts deliberately led Enki to Graham Island for that fight. In their first battle, at an abandoned gas station, they triggered a tornado. When they fought Enki in a populated area, they did so with much more limited attacks. Whatever this man’s end goal is, he’s trying to maintain the appearance of caring about civilian life.”

  Jake slumped with relief.

  “Now,” Dale said, leaning back in his chair. “Suggestions for our next move? I’m tired of being a purely a reactionary force. I want something we can do proactively.”

  “We’re already monitoring every connection Smith has,” Lazzario said. “It paid off once before.”

  “Which means,” Dale said, fighting to suppress a sigh, “that we can’t count on it working a second time. We have to assume he’s not a moron and will figure that his sister wasn’t the only one being watched.”

  “We don’t have to assume,” Parvathi said. “I think we have sufficient evidence that he, or someone working with him, has a decent amount of strategic capabilities. I still think we should keep monitoring the likely people and locations, but we cannot count on him being stupid.”

  “What about using his own tactic?” Jake asked. “Smith used a media blast to challenge Enki and draw him out. If we did the same thing, he’d probably realize it was a trap, but he has to be pretty angry with us right now, so there’s a good chance he would show up anyway. It might even force his hand and make him reckless.”

  “The only way we can do that is to expose this entire operation to the general public,” Dale said. “That’s not a risk I’m ready to take. As far as we know, the only outsiders who know about us are the Antichrist and his followers. If we go public, we’d likely give the other unnatural beings a reason to rally behind the Antichrist, to work together.”

  “I agree,” Lazzario said. “Although we’ll want to keep it in reserve in case Ryan exposes us.”

  “Then what about going after the others?” Parvathi said, drawing eyes to herself. “Once the new harnesses are complete, why not attempt targeting some of the gods we have locations for? Moloch, for example. We know he’s in Venezuela.”

  Dale grimaced. “After the fiasco in Ghana, the Venezuelan government is not interested in allowing us entry. They believe they have Moloch contained. That doesn’t preclude a black ops operation, but we’re going to need to be certain before we move.”

  “Then perhaps we should hold off,” Lazzario said. “I know we want, and need, to be more proactive, but we don’t have the new harnesses yet. How long until we do?”

  Pivarti frowned in consideration. “Twelve hours until they’re ready for deployment.”

  “Then we reconvene in twelve hours,” Dale said, “with proposals for next steps. Get to work on them, because I want to be impressed.”

  As the meeting broke up, Doctor Pivarti intercepted him. “Admiral, a moment, please?”

  He nodded for her to go ahead.

  “The Black Stone has recently undergone a rapid, unexpected chromatic metamorphosis, including a manifestation of an auditory abnormality. We’re not sure what it means, or what impact it could have.”

  The Admiral had to take a moment to process that. He sometimes wondered if she deliberately chose the most obtuse possible words to explain herself. “So it changed color and started making a noise?” he asked.

  Doctor Pivarti nodded. “If you wish. To be even more accurate, it turned a deep red.”

  “And the noise?”

  “Well sir, to be perfectly frank, it sounds like a heartbeat.”

  Admiral Bridges became aware of a sound that had been at the edge of hearing since he’d arrived back at the base. A deep, bass noise that was felt as much as heard.

  Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

  “I see,” he said. Mostly what he saw was a puzzle without any useful answers, but now that he was aware of the sound, it was rapidly grating on his nerves. “Any change to the subject?”

  “No, sir,” Pivarti said, some of the tension fading from her face. “And I do have a piece of good news. While you were in D.C., our team had a breakthrough on a new deployment method. The Black Stone appears to be an extradimensional space. By shunting matter through that space through an artificial gateway, we can relocate it anywhere on the planet.”

  Dale felt himself starting to smile. It was a good feeling, one he didn’t indulge in often enough. “How quickly?”

  “Anywhere within the country in five minutes, sir. Anywhere on the planet within, at most, fifteen. With enough power, we can take our people anywhere in the solar system within an hour.”

  Dale’s eyes lit up. The long term implications of this...were not of his concern. Short term, however? It fundamentally leveled the playing field.

  “Be sure to let the team know that they should incorporate that into their action plans. Well done, Doctor. Very well done.”

  ***

  Crystal stepped back into her staging area and turned on the real display.

  She’d dropped Isabel off at a restaurant, promising to catch her up as soon as Crystal took care of a couple quick things. Isabel had seemed surprised by how abrupt Crystal was but had gone along with it. Crystal was glad she didn’t have to answer too many questions. Her Hungers needed seeing to, but Isabel needed a chance to do some research on the internet and Crystal felt like she was going to go insane if she didn’t see how her nanoverse was doing as soon as possible. Please be okay, please be okay, please...

  Hope died at first. The cancerous bands of gas that spread between stars still existed. However, with a bit of focus, Crystal could see that they were mostly the dead remains of the Phoberia, mixed with her phobophages. It had worked. It had worked.

  Relief flooded her. The phobophages had done their work, and the nanoverse was hers again. She almost wanted to dance.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself, love. Crystal thought. She’d removed one obstacle. One. But that didn’t mean that the work was done. The stars were still unnatural colors, corrupt and twisted versions of what they had been.

  On top of that, she could feel pressure in the back of her mind. There was some malignant power out there, thrumming within the fabric of the nanoverse. It was weaker, but it was there. Some thing, some force, was resisting her.

  Crystal wanted to repeat the word impossible, but that word had started to lose all meaning. After a million years, she thought she knew the limits of what was and wasn’t possible, and here, in her nanoverse, where her will was absolute, there should be no such thing as impossible.

  And yet...and yet she had so much to learn. Most importantly, who, what, and how. So far, making big, sweeping changes hadn’t drawn out her adversary.

  So what if you try focusing, love? Crystal asked herself. She walked over the console. The fact that she was making progress, even if she still hadn’t found a way to solve the problem, renewed her determination.

  She pulled up a list of inhabited worlds. Dozens upon dozens appeared on her screen. Crystal pursed her lips as she went through the list. All these people...and she’d been ignoring them. Focused on the big things. Ignoring the individual acts of suffering that surrounded her. Could I have helped them?

  Crystal pushed down that thought. It was something she could feel guilty about later. Right now, she didn’t need to worry about what she should have done, but about what she could do now.

  One particular species caught her eyes. The Sur-nah-him. Apparently, only one in ten Sur-nah-him lived past middle age. The rest died from violence or disease.

  Their name, in their language, loosely translated to “those without hope”, although the actual meaning was more nuanced. They had two hundred and fifty words for despair, and the word that she thought of as “hope” would probably best translate to “a belief that despair will decrease in the future”.

  C
rystal stared at the words and cursed herself. These people were living in hell, and the best they dared hope for was that tomorrow would be slightly less terrible than today, then named themselves as a species after the belief that it would not.

  Perhaps there were other people in this universe Crystal had failed more. But right now, the Sur-nah-him had her attention.

  She dropped into her nanoverse’s real time stream and set a course for their world, which they called Shadoth, or “the Hungering Rot”.

  From space, it was worse than she’d feared. Their world orbited one of the green stars. Tendrils of flame leapt from that star, waving around it like the lazy tentacles of a sleeping octopus. There was a world, uninhabited, within the tendrils’ reach, and Crystal watched with sickened fascination as one of those tendrils washed over the planet. It turned stone to a molten substance that boiled like a witch’s cauldron, sending toxic fumes into space. They’d ride the solar wind to sprinkle onto nearby planets, seeding them with carcinogenic particles.

  She turned to face Shadoth itself, hoping things there would be better. At least it’s pretty, Crystal thought, her lip curling. Shadoth’s lands were a thousand shades of blue, which blended nicely into the ocean. The planet was dotted with cyan lakes as well, at a regularity that Crystal found odd but pretty, like gemstones littered across the landscape.

  She reminded herself of the Sur-nah-him’s mortality rate, and that was all she needed to make sure she didn’t forget that looks can be deceiving. She swung the staging area around to get a better look at the planet, dropping into its atmosphere and bringing up her scanners. Show me what’s making his place so awful its people don’t know hope.

  The landscape rushed up at her, and Crystal held her breath.

  A group of a few dozen Sur-nah-him slumped across a blue grass plain beneath her. Their posture was hunched, their eyes sunken. Their skin was so taut that they looked like skeletons. They had hair, but it was thin and ragged. Crystal wanted to wave her hand and make them better, but a wretched appearance didn’t prove a miserable existence.