An Epic Space Opera by Mark Laporta
On the Seldran lunar colony, leaders of the Dralein community view the prototype of a doomsday device in action. Though its use could permanently damage the fabric of space time, they realize that the threat of a Quishik victory requires bold action and, frankly, a leap of faith. Read Infinity Afterglow from the beginning.
As always, the stateroom of Treluhne, Chaudron of the independent Dralein lunar colony on Seldra, was a bustling hub of political, social, financial and scientific activity. Added to that, on this particular afternoon, was a new, exhilarating feeling of triumph. It had started early in the day, with a surprise call from Dadren, head of the world government on Bledraun, the Dralein home world.
“Old friend, yes,” Treluhne had said, “by all means arrive when you’re ready. But I’m curious to know what news you could possibly have that requires you to relay it in person.”
“These days,” said Dadren, “even electrons have ears. I have to make sure my news goes no farther than necessary.”
A few hours later, Dadren arrived with his chief Engineering and Astrophysics advisors to reveal plans for a powerful new weapon. It was based on the earlier “Doomsday device” that Captain Enos designed after the Quishiks first arrived through the Fremdel event horizon only a few hundred thousand kilometers from Bledraun. In contrast to his weapon, which would have unleashed an unstoppable destructive force, the Dralein had applied the same principles to a weapon with a narrower focus. Dadren glanced at his advisors.
“If I understand it correctly,” he said, “we don’t need the device to create the entire effect. That was the Captain’s mistake. The transmat process produces a latency field that corresponds to the time between dematerialization in one location, and rematerialization in another.”
Treluhne shook his furry head.
“Now I know why I went into government,” he said. “Go on. I’ll follow along as best I can.”
“Please,” said Dadren. “I can’t fathom half of this … and I’ve heard it twelve times already.”
As Dadren went on to explain, a slight overlap of two simultaneous transmat latency fields, controlled by a steady stream of gravitons from a standard gravity modulator was all they needed. That overlap would throw local spacetime out of alignment enough to create a controlled, cascading disruptive effect.
“We can accomplish this,” said Dadren, “with no more than a few molecular weights of, say iron, transmatted by each of the weapon’s two transmat pods.”
The result was a targeted disruption of the fabric of spacetime, enough to partially disable an enemy ship’s weapons array, for instance, without disintegrating a nearby planet into the bargain.
“And the effect lingers,” said Rothedhna, Dadren’s Lead Astrophysicist. “The weapon creates a temporary ‘dead zone’ that no ship can fly through.”
Treluhne tugged at the bright yellow hair on his forearms.
“It makes me think we could create a kind of cosmic fencing,” he said, “to keep the Quishiks boxed in.”
“Better leave that to the fleet captains,” said Dadren, “But you might have a point.”
Yet as they chatted further, they realized that neither Seldra, nor Bledraun, could ramp up production of the weapon in time. Worse, it was still in its prototype phase. Though Treluhne thought he might be able to get Gillian to help, she’d need tangible evidence that the device was effective. Dadren smiled and nodded to his Chief Engineer, Lathradom, who launched a holovid of the weapon in operation.
The video that emerged from the scanner built into Lathradom’s right forearm was daunting. It depicted a small Dralein ship with the device prototype secured to its starboard side. As the ship approached a nearby asteroid, it fired the test weapon. At first, nothing appeared to happen. Then the edges of the asteroid took on an uneven glow, almost as if they were on fire. Instead, they disintegrated and, as the glow from the weapon expanded, the rest of the rocky body disintegrated with it.
Treluhne’s reaction to the video was identical to Gillian’s, once she’d received it over a secure line.
“Rather impressive,” she said. “Don’t you think, Ensign?”
Jonas Frey stroked his stubbly chin.
“Good luck getting that clunky thing integrated into a probe ship, much less a fighter,” he said. “The safety protocols alone would be a killer.”
“I assume you mean it could disintegrate the ship,” said Gillian.
“For starters,” said Frey, “you’d need a shielding mechanism. Not sure how to shield against a weapon that shreds the background of reality.”
“Find a way,” said Gillian. “That’s an order. Go back and talk to that Ootray ship — San-ju nana — if you have to. I don’t care how you do it. I want that weapon before another arc goes by.”
“Yes, Captain,” said Frey. “There’s still a slight problem, though. That thing is only a prototype. It could take weeks to retrofit it to our systems. And I don’t have a clue how to scale up production.”
“I’ve never seen you like this, Ensign,” said Gillian. “Are you so busy sulking that you didn’t invent this weapon yourself that you can’t see the gift the Dralein have given us? Come along, if we get this right there will be more than enough credit to go around. You’re better than this, and I have proof. I’ve seen you tackle harder problems without breaking a sweat.”
“Maybe,” said Frey. “Except there’s no telling if that motor-mouth Ootray ship has the answer, either. AIs are much better at spitting out knowledge than creating it.”
Gillian slapped his right shoulder.
“Make it work, Ensign,” she said. “That’s your assignment. I won’t accept anything less.”
She spun on her heels and marched away from him.
Frey looked after her and, for the first time, wondered if having his mind drained by the Quishiks would be such a bad thing after all. Yet with no other option, he called down to the launch bay, made the necessary arrangements, and suited up for his second visit to the ancient Ootray beacon ship.
Ninety minutes after heading out, Frey saw San-ju nana’s immense hull appear on his main viewscreen. Though he would’ve preferred a few minutes of radio silence to clear his thoughts, the Ootray vessel was having none of that.
“Ensign Frey,” it said. “I’d say I was honored but, in the first place, I’m not programmed to feel that and, second, you’d never think to stop by for a friendly chat, would you?”
“Sorry,” said Jonas. “You do deserve more courtesy than you get, whether you care or not. You’re a sentient, and you’ve helped us without compensation dozens of times.”
“Compensation?” said San-ju nana. “That’s the first original thought I’ve heard in at least a millennium. Don’t trouble yourself about it. An Intelligence like me wants for nothing. All I need is a power source and, what do you know? I make my own power. Otherwise, I have the glories of the entire universe to contemplate and analyze every waking minute — not that I’m ever asleep.”
“I wish I were here to talk to you about the glorious part of the universe,’ said Frey.
“Oh dear, it’s the Quishiks again isn’t it?” asked San-ju nana. “Can’t tell you how tired I am of that subject — even if I do owe my existence to them. No Quishiks, no beacon ships. And yet, what use have I been? They’re still as dangerous as ever.”
Frey did his best to commiserate with the mysterious ship without, he hoped, losing more time than necessary. As soon as he found an opening, he laid out the specs for the new Dralein weapon and asked the AI’s advice about its implementation.
“Good for you,” said San-ju nana. “The Ootray built a cannon like that not long before they pulled up stakes and skulked off to the interstices. They couldn’t bring themselves to use it.”
“Honestly,” said Frey, “I’m not thrilled about ripping up the Cosmos either.”
“Nor should you be,” said San-ju nana. “Still, I know you humans will get around to using any new weapon eventually. Better you than Terran Protectorate Admin. Give Brad Christiansen a toy like that and he’ll turn the entire Sirius sector into his own private shooting gallery.”
“How would you….” said Frey.
“Please,” said the AI. “I’ve spent more time than I can count enhancing my signaling system. When you think of it, I have nothing else to do but listen. Anyway, by now, I can hear a stylus drop — and a whole lot else — in Christiansen’s office. You wouldn’t believe what a randy little….”
“About the weapon,” said Frey. A glance at his chronometer told him he was nearly due for an impatient check-in from Gillian.
“Right,” said San-ju nana. “While we’ve been talking, I compiled all the data I have on the Ootray’s comparable device and reorganized it so it would match your slightly less precise metrics. You humans really need to upgrade your measuring systems. Any system not based on Planck lengths is always going to be a tad too chunky. It amazes me that you can build as much as you can. Trouble is, with a device like this, a nanometer is positively huge.”
Frey took a quick glance at the first few lines of the Ootray AI’s transmission and felt his heart race. For the second time in less than a year, he’d witnessed a revolution in engineering that would take his colleagues generations to absorb. When this crisis was over — if it were ever over — he vowed to set up an entire institute, whose sole purpose would be to ask San-ju nana questions.
“Thanks,” he said. “I owe you.”
“Not in the slightest,” said the AI. “Come again, and bring Captain Mars next time. I hear he’s back in your universe now. I’d love to know what he saw in the artificial parallel universe that the Quishiks created with those ugly towers.”
“He’s what?” asked Frey.
Just then, on schedule, his ship’s comlink lit up with an incoming call from Gillian. And though he wanted to answer immediately, he hesitated, until he could decide whether to share an unconfirmed rumor that was sure to stir up a toxic brew of mixed emotions in his superior officer.
^^^
This concludes Episode 37: Doomsday Device. A new episode of Infinity Afterglow appears every Saturday. Read Episode 38 now.
Read Ungent Draaf’s earlier adventures in Mark Laporta’s novels Probability Shadow and Entropy Refraction, which are available at a bookstore near you, on Amazon and at Barnes & Noble. Mark Laporta is also the author of Orbitals: Journeys to Future Worlds, a collection of short science fiction, which is available as an ebook.
His new novel, from which this episode is excerpted, will be published by Chickadee Prince Books. To pre-order, contact Orders@ChickadeePrince.com.
Image by Kalyee Srithnam.