An Epic Space Opera by Mark Laporta

Captain Harlan Mars returns from exile in a bizarre pocket universe, only to stand at Probability’s Edge once more. What he learns from Shol in this episode of Infinity Afterglow will alter his perception of the universe for good. Read Infinity Afterglow from the beginning.

The function of the basement in the average Skryntali house differed greatly from its human equivalent. Even in the lifetime of Harlan Mars, humans used their subterranean spaces for storage, to run domestic machinery or as an entertainment center. By contrast, a Skryntali basement was the heart and soul of the entire domicile. It was the residents’ inner sanctum, which they reserved for close family gatherings and intimate conversation.

For a disoriented human, who’d just been swept across spacetime by a thousand-year-old frame-shift device, Caligreth’s basement was a bewildering sight. As Cricket Andersen had discovered during her brief tour of a Skryntali battle cruiser, the shape shifters furnished their living quarters to accommodate their changing proportions. 

There were no fewer than three different seating areas, each with couches, chairs and tables in differing dimensions. As a corollary, each element of the three areas had its own color scheme, texture and functional design. The combined effect created the mirage of a skewed visual perspective, of a kind Harlan had previously experienced only in a carnival “fun house,” on Thalatria 4.

Stunned, Harlan Mars stepped out of the Kadervax and struggled to get his bearings.

“Location,” he said. “Report.”

The Kadervax AI’s mellow male voice reverberated off the basement’s high-vaulted ceiling.

“No need for military gruffness, Captain,” it said. “I exist to serve. You are in the lowest level of a home once owned by Deputy Archivist Caligreth, deceased.”

“Cause of death?” asked Harlan.

The Kadervax AI paused to consult local newsnets. 

“Unknown,” it said. “However, his remains have been found in the vicinity of a pair of white dwarf stars. Their coordinates align with a transmat operation carried out by my prototype.”

“I knew that crazy Olfdranyi was trouble,” said Harlan. “But … she did this, right?” 

Harlan listened while the Kadervax AI confirmed his suspicions about Eldrinaj. 

“And how much damage can she do with the … the prototype?” he asked.

As the AI explained, the Kadervax prototype was now under its direct control. Yet both devices were critically vulnerable, as Eldrinaj herself had learned only an hour of subjective time earlier.

“So that scrawny bird-lady has herself some leverage,” said Harlan. “There has to be a way around that.”

“Any intervention on my part,” said the AI, “would disrupt the delicate temporal anomaly that makes my presence in this timeline possible. It also appears that disabling Ms. Kaklyadar would have a similar effect.”

“Can you at least calculate the odds that….” said Harlan.

The AI interrupted him, to point out that modeling relative Probability required a minimum amount of data.

“The existence of two versions of me in the same timeline is a unique occurrence,” it said, “perhaps in all of spacetime. I struggle at each moment to hide my existence from my other self. Were it to become aware of me, the consequences might be much greater than upsetting your plans to stop the Quishiks.”

“OK now,” said Harlan. “Help me out here. How can you be … what is it? … a thousand cycles old and know about the latest Quishik outbreak?”

“Alkader Vaxioleth, the Skryntali who designed me,” said AI, “had mastered a branch of quantum sensing your era has not yet conceived. She made a novel combination of ancient technology, developed shortly after the Quishiks’ incubation, with innovations of her own. In this, she was aided by….”

“Never mind,” said Harlan. “Here’s what matters. Whatever plans I have for the Quishiks are going nowhere at the speed of light squared.”

“I believe you should know that….” said the Kadervax AI.

Harlan waved his hands, palms down, in front of him. 

“Don’t bother telling me that’s impossible,” he said. “I’m not an ignoramus.”

“Your intelligence is not in question,” said the AI. “I merely wanted to point out that the arrival of an unmarked Ootray ship in this solar system may give your plans new impetus.”

Before Harlan could grasp what the Kadervax meant, he noticed a distinct blur in the air to his left. A moment later, the blur resolved itself into a holojection of Shol, from the bridge of the Odela.

“Captain Mars,” said the young Krezovic, “I need you to, like, come with me now. The Quishiks….”

“Hold on, Son,” said Harlan. “You wanna catch me up? I’ve been out of touch.”

Shol’s fists clenched.

“Everything’s the same!” he said. “The Quishiks are, like, killing everybody. They were out in the … the edges, or whatever. Now they’re getting closer, and heading for Earth.”

“Earth?” asked Harlan. “What do they want with Earth?”

“Not what,” said Shol. “Who.” 

Harlan leaned up against an elaborately carved hardwood cabinet to his right that, unbeknownst to him, stored many of what had been Caligreth’s most cherished memorabilia.

“How in the nine rings of Hell do you even know that?” he asked.

Shol held up his right hand. 

“I have this Ootray ring,” he said, “that tells me stuff. It’s complicated, and we don’t have time to talk about it. Here’s all I care about: The Quishiks are all sick now, because of Captain Enos. They know they’re gonna die, and they wanna take us with them.”

“And how does going to Earth….” asked Harlan.

“It’s like a … like a lure,” said Shol. “They figure the ‘tectorate will send the whole fleet to protect that planet — and maybe get other ships to join ‘em. The Quishiks plan to knock out everybody’s fleet and then … do I really have to explain the next part?”

Harlan, who’d become accustomed to being deferred to, as a high-ranking fleet officer, began an impatient line of questioning, which Shol answered with surprisingly terse precision. Despite their heated exchange, Harlan was mostly won over. 

“OK,” he said. “I see what you’re driving at. But how do you know….”

“Captain!” Shol shouted. “Come on. Didn’t Har Draaf show you? You can’t always wait until you know everything! We have to make a move. I need you and the Kader … Kadervax in the right place until I give the signal.”

“What signal?” asked Harlan.

Shol spoke through clenched teeth. 

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “I can’t know until we get moving. That’s the way this, like, Probability stuff works.”

The Kadervax, whose status lights had been blinking erratically ever since Shol’s holojection appeared, finally spoke up. 

“He’s right, Captain,” it said. “Nothing can be achieved unless one aligns oneself with the essential randomness of the universe. Sentient species seek order. And that, most often, is their downfall.”

“Definitely sounds like something Old Ungy would say,” said Harlan. “All right. Kadervax, can you take us both to Shol’s ship?”

“I need only the coordinates of a sufficiently large cargo bay,” said the AI. “May I suggest Level Three A?”

Shol stared at the device a moment, lost in thought. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Good idea. I asked the Odela to let you in. Come up to Command Center after you get there, Captain. We’ll get moving and maybe I can explain better.”

Harlan watched Shol’s image dissipate. 

“What do you think?” he asked the Kadervax. “Am I walking into a trap?”

“Unlikely,” said the AI. “The young Krezovic’s pkaholul ring is a device that predates even the oldest components of my own construction. The universe was a different place back then. Besides, Shol’s speech rhythms and psychophysical mimetics revealed not a trace of deception.”

“A simple ‘no’ would’ve been plenty,” said Harlan. “Let’s go.”

The former captain of the Jericho stepped into his newly acquired frame-shift device a second time and said, “Odela, Cargo Bay Three A.”

Moments later, Caligreth’s home was a hive of activity. A local Skryntali patrol burst into the house and clattered down the hardwood stairs to its basement. The helmeted, five-member unit, weapons raised, made a rapid sweep and came to a dead stop at their commander’s barked-out orders. 

“Stand down!’ he said. “Detective Rolermalesh. Remind me why we dragged our behinds over here.”

“Energy … unusual energy readings,” said the cowed detective. “One of them was … was definitely Ootray.”

The commander tore his helmet off and tossed it to his miserable subordinate. 

“Ootray?” he asked. “Ootray? Craters, I take over a shift for Captain Jagrenoth and get stuck with a loser who can’t tell the difference between police work and a child’s make-believe game. I don’t know what the swirling ion storm they taught you at the Academy but, last I heard, the Ootray left this universe … what? … five thousand cycles ago?”

“Sir, with respect,” said Rolermalesh, “I can show you the data.”

His commander’s mocking tone withered any hope of exoneration. 

“I can show you the data,” he said. “I can show you the data. Let me tell you what I’m gonna show you. Your termination papers, you got me? Hand me your badge and pulse pistol. Now!”

^^^

This concludes Episode 33: Probability’s Edge. A new episode of Infinity Afterglow appears every Saturday. Read Episode 34 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.