By Other Means Page 13

  Simovic seemed to suppress a flinch at the mention of judgment; Elnessa wondered if perhaps he had enough vestigial soul left in him to feel a faint pulse of guilt. Hoon simply frowned, as though slightly suspicious that they had funded the creation of radical art. She asked, “And just what do you call this piece of art? And why doesn’t the tower’s light work?”

  Elnessa smiled. “I call this frieze Jericho Falls Outward. Or, if you prefer a less metaphorical title, you can all it, I Will Not Let You Assholes Kill My Children.”

  Simovic did flinch, now; Hoon’s head snapped back as if she had been struck—and then her eyes went wide with comprehension. She turned toward one of the guards, mouth open to scream a command—just as Elnessa finished her silent count to ten.

  As Elnessa reached “ten,” the current from the wall had spent that many seconds both illuminating the lights of the frieze, and coursing through the alligator clips that were buried in the side of the hole Elnessa had bored through the length of the watchtower. However, the electricity directed into that substance was neither wasted nor idle.

  Concealed inside the block of clay, down where the leads were embedded, was an identically-colored, but somewhat denser substance. With every passing second, the complex nanytes which pervaded that substance had begun changing their chemical composition, and aligning to follow with (and thereby offer less resistance to) the electric current. However, unlike the aligning of atoms in an electromagnet, when the nanytes of this complex alloy were all finally aligned, they began to work like a battery—which rapidly soared toward overload.

  As Elnessa Clare realized that her “ten-count” had come and gone, she thought about continuing on to “eleven,” and felt a pulse of worry shoot through her. According to Reuben, the substance that had been embedded at the core of each of the clay blocks—Selftex—could only absorb ten seconds of standard outlet current from the watchtower’s diverted leads. But then Elnessa realized that this one extra second was a gift, time with which she could recall Vas’ steady, warm brown eyes—

  The Selftex—a recent, self-actuating evolution of the plastic explosive Semtex—had been developed to do away with the need for blasting caps or other explosive initiators. Hooked up to a low electric current, it gave miners and construction workers a long, precise interval in which to evacuate a blast site. However, when the current was as powerful as that running through a standard electrical outlet—

  From almost two kilometers away, Vas not only heard, but felt, the blast. A few nearby windows shattered, people stared around wildly, a few—probably the ones who had heard the rumors of approaching exosapients—looked skyward.

  But Vas straightened up and looked toward the roiling mass of thick black smoke, rising up over the Indi Group’s corporate headquarters like a fist of angry defiance. And, through his tears, he smiled. That was the work of El, his El. He had heard Reuben’s injudicious radio talk, had seen some incoming messages foolishly left unpurged from the house computer, and so knew that El had been helping to resist the Indi Group—and as of yesterday, was the only one still actively doing so.

  Vas looked over toward the headquarters again, wondered about the frieze she had spoken of working on for so long, yearned to have seen it. He knew that, since she had crafted it, the frieze had been, without doubt, a thing of beauty—every bit as much as she herself had been. Then he stared up at the crest of the ugly black plume that marked its destruction, and reflected: this was her gift to him, to all the children.

  And therefore, it, too, was a thing of beauty.

  Alone and Afar

  A Shards Universe Story

  Peter Prellwitz

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: i (a single, lower case italicized i) is the mathematical symbol for the square root of -1 (negative one). In its most basic application then: i * i = -1.

  Considered an imaginary number, i can nonetheless be proven to exist by association and inference. Its existence is also required because i is used to solve proven theorems in our physical laws.

  Since it exists, logic dictates that it can be placed on a line relevant to other, real numbers. Yet it can’t. Counting to i would be akin to pointing to last Wednesday: Possible according to mathematical laws, but far beyond our comprehension.

  At least, far beyond the comprehension of homo Sapiens.

  Earth date: Wednesday, March 23, 3098

  Centaur date: Marks Matrix: 73rd Remembrance, Tier 3i, 95th Vibration of Chronostring 4597; 7cyan2 G shading. Woldheim temporal axis shift: 39607 resampled seconds. (2nd reality expression, simplified for linear cohesion to assist in homo Sapiens comprehension.)

  “Seaman Matthews is quite shy, Lieutenant.”

  “Is he now?” Lt. Navarra glanced away from the chow line and toward the third table along the aft bulkhead. Sure enough, Seaman Matthews was seated there, a tray of meatloaf, applesauce, and carpeas—or pearotts, Jenn couldn’t tell them apart—on his food tray. His fork hovered over the meatloaf, but he was making no serious attempt at eating. Jenn smiled and looked back at Quincy, the small ship’s best and only cook who doubled as morale officer.

  “He doesn’t seem to be enjoying your meatloaf,” Jenn said. “Though I’m sure it’s as tasty as always. Perhaps… ah…” she smiled again; the entire crew of the Arctic Tern knew that to be Jenn’s normal expression. “Isn’t today his birthday?”

  “Why, now that you mention it, Lieutenant…” Quincy gave a return grin. “I think he’d love to have some BBQ ribs and ice-cold root beer.”

  Jenn set her tray down and brought her hands together, then spread them apart to exactly 29 centimeters and opened two portals into ireality. The five crewmen in line behind her turned away from Jenn; partly to avoid the blinding light that poured out of the portals and partly to watch Matthews’ reaction to what was about to happen.

  Jenn stabilized the portals, plucked the 7cyan2 istring, its 5violet11 counterpart, braided them into the 4597 chronostring and added 17 fives, 3 threes, a single two and one, and seven zeros. She then folded the portals together, shutting them down and running the program in spectral reality; the only reality her homo Sapien cousins could perceive.

  The food on Matthews’ plate vibrated and started to move around. Matthews gave out a yelp and jumped up. He looked around and suddenly became aware he was the center of attention for the entire mess room. He looked back down at his plate. A pile of BBQ ribs—enough for a dozen people—was heaped up, steaming sauce glooping down the sides in a slow race to spill onto the table. Beside the ribs was an oak barrel that easily held ten liters. Twelve mugs, iced and filled with foaming root beer sat on the table, ready to be passed out.

  The crew cheered and sang the birthday song. Matthews gave Jenn a huge smile, then reseated himself and started gnawing on a rib. Within minutes, everyone had joined in on the meal and the sound of chatting and laughing quickly doubled, then doubled again as a full-blown birthday party formed.

  “Doesn’t say much about my meatloaf, does it now?” Quincy bemoaned even as he winked at Jenn.

  “I’m sorry, Quincy,” Jenn apologized, blushing slightly. “I did not intend to cast aspersions on your fine cooking.” She smiled and held out her plate. “I’d love to lunch on what you’ve prepared.”

  “Okay, Lieutenant,” Quincy said and filled her plate. “Though you’re about the only one. Me, I’m going for some ribs and root beer.” He finished serving Jenn then snatched up an empty plate and glass and went to join the others.

  Jenn went to her normal table and took a seat. She set down her fork and opened up two more portals and modified the program slightly, allowing for a significant increase in the amount of ribs and root beer. There was now enough for everyone. She shut the portals and picked up her fork.

  “Why do you do that?”

  Jenn looked up. Lt. Nicholas Haughton stood in front of her, holding his own tray of meatloaf, applesauce, and whatever that vegetable was called. Like Jenn, Nicholas was a Marks—homo Magicus; a cousin race of the hu
mans. They lived in both spectral reality and ireality at once and their shared racial traits of fine blond hair, short stature, slight build, and pitch-black eyes set them apart from the rest of the crew. All military and most corporate ships carried a homo Magicus programmer—called a muser—and Nicholas was the Arctic Tern’s muser.

  “Do what, Nick?” she said as he sat down opposite her. He kept his long blonde hair braided, just as Jenn did, while on duty. They had the normally full table to themselves, the popularity of the ribs and root beer having drawn a crowd at the other end of the mess room.

  “Waste time and energy on altering food like that. It just makes for sloppy decorum and a noisier meal time.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a poop.” Jenny made a face at him. “The captain permits it and the crew enjoys it. We’ve been four months getting to this remote corner of the Milky Way. Allow them a little fun.”

  “We’d all be better served if they’d focus on the engine preparations as they did on silly pastimes.”

  “Stop it, Nick,” Jenn said tiredly. They’d grown up together as kids on Centaur’s Heart and they’d even been a couple for a while as young adults. But when Jenn went to Earth to get her degrees in singularity mathematics and engineering, then remained behind, they had drifted apart. Having spent her last forty years on Earth—6500 light years from her people’s home planets—Jenn knew she was considered as the one who had drifted. That Earth was the only location in the known galaxy where pentrinsic code would not work only made Jenn’s separation from Nick and her people more acute.

  “What? I’m only watching out for order and decorum,” Nick replied. “You’ve grown too much like the Terrans. You’ve accomplished a great deal while on Earth. I’m very impressed with your new insertion drive; it will do a lot for intra-system travel. But you seem to have paid a steep price for it, having adopted the attitudes and views of the Terran people. It worries me.”

  “And so you’ve waited four months to tell me?” Jenn shook her head. “You’re not worried about me, Nick. You disapprove of me.” She paused as the crew gave a rousing cheer for Lt. Matthews. “Listen to them, Nick. They have a zeal for life that most humans share; Sapiens and Magicus alike. But even though we Marks people have demonstrated multiple realities by our very existence, they know they don’t see reality the way we do, that they have limitations our race does not. Yet still they have the zeal for living, often express it fully. Yes, I envy them in a way. You’ve served with this crew for over a year, Nick, but I know you haven’t really lived with them.”

  “You’re right in some ways,” Nick confessed. “I do at times wonder what Sapiens have—or what we lack—that gives them their viewpoint on living. Nonetheless, your being with them for so many years had taint—”

  A wrenching scream shattered both conversation and celebration. Nick reacted first, jumping to his feet and moving way from their table. Each of his hands opened a small portal in ireality and he plunged them in.

  Jenn was nearly as quick, jumping to her feet, then leaving them and ascending a meter in the air, her Fly spell cast in less than a heartbeat. Both spun toward the source of the scream; the table where the crew had gathered to celebrate Lt. Matthews’ birthday.

  They were now panicking over his death. Slumped onto the table, face turned away from view, his skull was a bubbling mass of hair and dissolved bone. The gently pulsing glow of Nick’s Restore spell quickly obscured the gory site, but that was its full effect. There was no restore or recovery from so devastating an injury; Lt. Mattews’ was dead the instant the attack spell had been launched. And to both Nick and Jenn, it was clear that they were under attack by aggressive pentrinsic; forbidden and unused since the Six Planets of the previous century.

  Jenn’s hands spread out and opened two portals. Though her obsidian black eyes were capable of peering into the blinding light that poured out, she still took the two seconds needed to run the Dark Glass program, which cut down the brightness so human eyes wouldn’t be pained from it. She then coded and ran Haven.

  “Pax,” Jenn sighed. An instant of dead silence covered the ship, followed by the single, comforting sound of a heart beat beating once. An invisible wave of calm pulsed out from Jenn, bringing to the surface the peace, focus, and determination that was inside the soul of each person on the ship. Order was restored, though the seriousness and edge of the moment remained.

  The general quarters alarm sounded over the comlink and as one the crew moved quickly to exit the Mess for their combat stations. Captain Garret’s voice sounded out over the comlink.

  “We are under attack. Combat stations, full readiness. Muser report immediately to the bridge. Garret out.”

  Nick glanced at Jenn.

  “I have to protect this ship from further attacks. You get yourself and your people to the insertion drive. That is certainly the goal of whomever is attacking us.” Jenn nodded in agreement, but Nick had vanished, teleported to the bridge.

  “Team, I need all of you at the drive right now,” Jenn said calmly as she herself used the BeThere program to shift herself from the Mess to the Engine Room three decks lower and fifty meters aft. Her Talk program reached only her five people, all engineers who had helped her develop the new drive back on Earth.

  Jenn popped into the Engine room and looked around quickly. Nick was right; the drive was the prize of this attack. The three that had been on duty at the moment of the attack—all members of the Arctic Tern crew—were lying dead at their stations. Each had skulls that were now melted into the floor, no more than pools of hair and pinkish oatmeal that still bubbled slightly.

  Horrified at both the sight of the carnage as well as the implications of the use of aggressive pentrinsic, Jenn sobbed in grief. Who would be so careless? Not a Marks person, certainly: The race had pointedly woven their genetic makeup so that it would be impossible to cast aggressive pentrinsic. That meant it had to be an attack by a homo Sapien muser. But the power and range… her engineering team arrived at that moment, their pounding footsteps bringing Jenn back to the moment.

  “Quickly!” she ordered, opening up her portals. “Get to your stations and monitor the condition of the insertion drive. It’s almost certainly the reason for the attack, but whether it’s to take or destroy the drive we don’t know yet. I’m writing a new repel program now that should protect us.”

  “Lieutenant!” called Crewman Tabitha Anders. “I’m showing a mass stress point on the port outboard coupling.”

  “She’s right, Lieutenant!” shouted Crewman Lisa Mashin. “Stress markers are appearing on the phased 2D plate. It’s doubling every two seconds.”

  “There must be an external gravity well altering space,” Jenn replied. “Everyone to the starboard side of the drive. I’m going to counteract. Shield your eyes!” She shifted the portals and dropped the Dark Glass program.

  Coding at a speed she’d never attained before, Jenn plucked the 7cyan2 string, selected the G, M, and R shadings, then braided them quickly into the fifth axis of the 4597 chronostring. The matrix crackled and hummed as it came into being. Pock marking the hendecagon structure with twenty-three fives, seven threes, 2 twos, and 13 ones, the two-dimensional matrix flowered into a five- dimensional object with a rotated core and 11i sides. Jenn began coding the area inside her construct… 4801 fives… 2237 threes… 5741 twos… 7013 ones… 1913 zeroes…

  The matrix exploded out of the portals and into spectral reality. To human perception, there was a red flash, the brief sound of ocean waves, and the scent of fresh baked bread. To Jenn, a solid wall of chronostrings now coated every exposed surface in the engine room. The bulkheads, the deck, the drive, even the crew, were now protected by outside attack from aggressive pentrin…

  Anders began coughing; a wretched twisting cough that quickly changed to choking. Jenn immediately cast a Restore, boosting it with an Organic Recover. Anders’ face altered from agony to relief, but only for a moment. Jenn felt— unbelievably experienced to the center of her
soul—her healing programs being erased from spectral reality, allowing the attack to continue.

  Anders sank to her knees, pawing at the back of her head. There came a harsh snapping sound, followed by a series of dull pops as her skull split open and blood and organ began bubbling out.

  “What’s happening?!” shouted Mashin.

  “I… I… don’t know,” Jenn stammered. Never had she experienced any kind of aggressive programming like this. She could now feel the coding of the attack, but it made her retch from the hate of its caster. It stunned her, causing physical sickness. She hoped Nick was faring better than she was. If only…she shook herself from the daze that seemed to be creeping in on all senses.

  Crewman Gillian was now screaming, the victim of the same attack. Hopelessness was washing over Jenn and her people. Something had to be done! Jenn attempted to strengthen the chronoshield, but it couldn’t be increased without disintegrating the ship. She had done all she could. All she could…all she could…all she…

  No! Jenn pushed her hands into the shimmering portals of ireality and switched the G and B strings of the present living shadings and inserted a randomizer. A half-seen image of Jenn appeared a meter away. The debilitating personal attack spell shifted abruptly away as the attacking muse sensed Jenn in a location she wasn’t and continued the assault on the phantom. Jenn wrote the same code for each of her surviving three crewmen. She’d bought them a few minutes of respite.

  “Is the gravity well still in effect?” Jenn asked. Mashin glanced over the readouts and nodded. “All right. Continue monitoring. If the gravity pull begins breaking down the two dimensional piston, destroy the drive. I’m going to the bridge to speak to the Captain and Lt. Haughton.”