#insectoids

[Editor’s Note: We are so proud to publish the final episode of this great serial, from Mark Laporta. You can read the whole story from the beginning, starting with Episode One.]

“It is not as you imagine,” said the Serlatian in Bleenor’s mind. “We cannot carry out our offensive without revealing our position and risking millions of lives. You two, however, are already known to the Alornoz and have less to lose.”

“They have a point,” said Zevdra. “The least we can do is listen — unless you know another way home.”

Bleenor’s antennae drooped.

“OK,” he said, “let’s hear it.”

The outline of the Serlatian plan was simple. The Shiny Nova would deliver a series of transmitters to designated asteroids across the galaxy. When  activated, the transmitters would broadcast the same thought-patterns that the two insectoids had used to incapacitate the symbiote that had infested Bot One.

“Once the transmitters are in place, the cumulative effect will drive the Alornoz out of this galaxy forever,” said the Serlatian.

“Not good enough,” said Zevdra. “I can’t agree to a plan that just turns these slugs into somebody else’s problem.”

But as the Serlatian assured her, they had long ago sent detailed plans for the transmitter system to the far reaches of the settled universe.

“By the time those parasites arrive, everyone will be protected,” said the Serlatian.

“Do you buy that, Zev?” asked Bleenor.

“I guess I have to,” said Zevdra. “Unless you’re ready to die here with a slug in your neck.”

Bleenor hung his head.

“Whatever, I can’t lose you,” he said.

Without another word, Zevdra and Bleenor raced back to their lander and shot up to their ship, which was still in orbit around Serlat 3.

“Cargo hull laded,” said the ship’s AI. A moment later, the Serlatian’s voice crackled over the Shiny Nova’s intercom.

“We have transmatted the transmitters to your vessel and entered the necessary flight plan into your navigation system. Your AI is now also capable of transmitting the deadly pattern, should you encounter any symbiote-controlled ships. The moment the last transmitter is in place,  a vortex will appear a short distance away and remain open until you are through. Good luck.”

“Craters,” said Bleenor, “this flight plan has over two hundred stops.”

“Better get started,” said Zevdra.

And so, over the course of the next two weeks, they pushed the Shiny Nova at top speed to deliver the self-deploying transmitters throughout the galaxy. Along the way, their onboard transmitter helped them evade capture, despite several close calls. At last, the work was complete. A blaze of light appeared in the near distance.

“The vortex!” shouted Zevdra. If it hadn’t been for their grueling ordeal, they might have noticed how beautiful its bright, purplish edges were against the inky black of deep space. As it was, they thought only of exiting that treacherous universe unscathed. The moment the vortex closed behind them, Bleenor called out to the ship’s AI.

“Status,” he said.

“On course for mission trajectory,” it said.

Astonished, Bleenor checked the nav-AI.

“That’s right,” he said. “Too bad we’re too late with these medical supplies.”

“Correction,” said the AI. “Our mission is on schedule.”

“How can that be?” asked Zevdra.

“The Vortex point of entry was consistent with these spatiotemporal coordinates,” said the AI.

“I miss Bot One,” said Zevdra. “It was so good at explaining things.”

“You called?” said a voice in the next bulkhead.

The two Veratrese gasped as their lost servicebot walked into the command center. Apparently, the Serlatians had thought of everything.

“Turns out I’m just a toy to them,” said Bot One. “I was fully functional less than two rotations after you left that version of Serlat 3. And it may interest you to know that a spatiotemporal vortex can be aimed at any coordinate set you choose.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m … vortexing,” said Bleenor.

The unexpected official announcement that boomed through the ship’s intercom doused his joyful mood.

“Attention, all Trans Proxima Shipping personnel,” it said.  “This is Relnatror Delatrin with your quarterly reminder that crew member fraternization is strictly prohibited and grounds for immediate termination. As always, thanks for being a valued member of our fleet.”

Zevdra’s hoarse whisper barely cut through the Command Center’s stunned silence.

“Positrons in a pile, what’ll we do?” she asked. “Piloting is all I know.”

Bleenor’s mandibles clacked as he plopped down into his navigator’s chair.

“I wonder if there’s a parallel universe out there where there aren’t so many stupid rules,” he said.

Bot Two, who had just clomped up the titanium spiral stairs that led from the lower level walked over to Bot One.

“You want me to tell them?” it asked its machine-mate.

“I’ll do it,” said Bot One. “Though I’m not sure it’s a good idea. But here it is: Captain, you should know that the Serlatians have retrofitted this ship for vortex creation — software, hardware, schematics, the works.”

“So, theoretically, we could open a vortex anytime we wanted?” asked Bleenor.

“Nothing theoretical about it,” said Bot One.

Zevdra and Bleenor gasped as a brilliant ring of bright purple appeared on their view screens for the second time that day.

“Voila, Vortex!” said Bot One. “Now, there’s no way to know if the metaverse on the other side includes a society with the attributes of personal freedom I assume you want. But there are an infinite number of possible metaverses to explore.”

Zevdra pulled Bleenor close. As they gazed up at the image of the vortex, they were overwhelmed by the thought of starting over. Far away, that is, from the petty restrictions of a world more in love with rules than with Love itself.

^^^

Mark Laporta is the acclaimed author of the Changing Hearts of Ixdahan Daherek series and the new novel, Probability Shadow, published October by Chickadee Prince Books, available now in paperback or ebook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble or at a bookstore near you.

Design by Steven S. Drachman from an original image by Jack Weirick / Unsplash

[Editor’s Note: Read the whole story from the beginning, starting with Episode One.]

The waylaid cargo vessel, Shiny Nova, sped along the arbitrary trajectory its navigator had set in a moment of panic. Alone in his quarters, Bleenor wondered what to do about the ship’s unwanted passenger, a human female infested with a mind-controlling parasite. There was no telling how much longer Bot Two could keep her in a medically-induced coma.

Yet despite the urgency of the situation, Bleenor’s memory of his blissful embrace with Zevdra kept intruding on his thoughts.

“Idiot!” he scolded himself. If he didn’t find a solution, he’d lose her ─ and their last hope for survival. His voice trembled as he called out to Bot Two, through a direct comlink to Sick Bay.

“Status,” he said.

The servicebot’s logical assessment had a calming effect and opened Bleenor’s mind to a fresh train of thought.

“Know anything about hypnosis?” he asked. If the servicebot could reach the captive human’s mind there was a chance she’d know where they could hide. But Bot Two offered little encouragement. Attempting to raise the human’s consciousness while continuing to suppress the symbiote might result in permanent brain damage.

And yet, Bleenor reasoned, wasn’t this parasitical infestation a type of brain damage? Bot Two’s intervention might even free the human’s mind. But maybe there was another way.

“Bot One,” he called out, “could you transfer her consciousness into the ship’s AI?”

“Sorry, not enough bandwidth,” said the servicebot. “But if you reformat my central processor, the AI might be able to copy her brain wave signature and load it into my empty head.”

“AI, is that possible?” asked Bleenor.

For the second time that morning, the answer he received was disappointing. While the AI could attempt to digitize the human’s thought processes, there was every chance the copy would be incomplete or garbled. The most recent attempts at mind-transference on Veratrese had met with only partial success, even under ideal conditions.

Trouble was, the only alternative was to create a cyber-neural link between the human and one of the other crew members ─ and risk a second symbiote infestation.

“There’s too much we don’t know about this species,” said Bot Two.

Just then, Zevdra walked into Bleenor’s quarters, groggy from a long nap.

“What?” she asked. “What don’t we know?”

When Bleenor outlined his desperate plan, Zevdra shook her head.

“Not risking any member of this crew,” she said. “The servicebots are just as sentient as we are.”

“Still need a solution,” said Bleenor.

“I have an idea,” said Zevdra. “Had a dream about it, actually. In our universe, the ruins at Serlat 3 were built by a people with total control over time and space.”

“That’s just a rumor,” said Bleenor. “And anyway, the holovid you downloaded from … wherever … showed nothing but rubble on this version of Serlat 3. What do you expect to find?”

“Dunno,” said Zevdra. “But it’s the only place I do know of to start looking for answers. If it’s as uninhabited as it looks, we’ll be better off than landing on a planet hostile to ‘bug people.’”

Bleenor sighed. Zevdra was even more beautiful when she was serious and determined.

“Well, we could try,” he said. “Maybe Bot One could find something in the rubble.”

Zevdra sidled up closer to him, her antennae twirling.

“And we …” she said, “we’d be all alone in the ruins. Very romantic.”

Bleenor’s mandibles clacked in spite of himself.

“I’ll give you that,” he said quietly. “But come on, call up that holovid again while I plot out a course that might give us some cover.”

“Aye, aye,” said Zevdra. The flicker in her multifaceted eyes made Bleenor’s heart race. A moment later, the holovid of Serlat 3 had once again taken over the command center.

“Think this is real time?” asked Bleenor.

“Affirmative,” said Bot One, “as the humans like to say, for some reason. Can’t figure out why organics are so in love with machine-speak.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” said Zevdra. “We envy your logical minds.”

“Well, you shouldn’t,” said the servicebot. “Logic is a trap. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get beyond the strict boundaries of quantitative analysis.”

“But you sound so … thoughtful,” said Zevdra.

“That’s just my personality vector,” said Bot One. “It’s a state-of-the-art simulation of organic mental activity. But nothing I ever say is improvised.”

“Let’s commiserate later, OK?” asked Bleenor. “Sensors show a ship gaining on us from about a light year away.”

“Take a look at the holovid,” said Zevdra. “See anything?”

Bot One stared at the translucent scale model of the abandoned planet.

“No,” it said. “But the AI’s long-range scans report some slightly better preserved ruins in the planet’s southern hemisphere. I suggest we head there.”

“Right,” said Bleenor. “Course plotted. Awaiting your input, Cap … Zev.”

Zevdra tilted her head to one side before entering his coordinates into the nav-AI. A few quick taps on the command console set the Shiny Nova’s course and engaged its space-folding engines. For a brief moment, a flicker of hope entered her soul.

That is, until Bot Two’s voice crackled over the ship’s intercom.

“The patient is coming around,” it said. “I suggest we erect a containment field around Sick Bay as soon as….”

The servicebot’s voice broke off and was replaced by the sound of a violent struggle.

“That human is half Bot Two’s size,” said Zevdra. “What could possibly.…”

“AI, seal the lower deck!” Bleenor shouted. “Let nothing in our out.”

The Shiny Nova’s AI complied and again, Zevdra had reason to believe they were safe. But the galley was on the lower level, along with their bunks and the sanitary facilities.

“This is terrible,” she said. “How long can we survive without food or water?

“Not long, I imagine,” said a voice over the intercom. “I, on the other hand, will be just fine. Your AI is quite sophisticated. Plenty of room in here for me. Just as well. The human was too limited.”

“Craters, you’re in my ship?” said Zevdra.

“Your ship?” said the voice. “You must be joking. But you’re in luck. I’ve always wanted to see the ruins of Serlat 3 for myself.”

(Read the next episode here)

^^^

Mark Laporta is the acclaimed author of the Changing Hearts of Ixdahan Daherek series and the new novel, Probability Shadow, which was published in October by Chickadee Prince Books, available now in paperback or ebook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble or at a bookstore near you. He writes serialized SF stories regularly for Audere. Read his other work here.

Illustration by White77 / Pixabay

[Editor’s Note: Read the whole story from the beginning, starting with Episode One.]

“How could a human know ancient Veratrese?” asked Zevdra. “I … well, I don’t even know it.”

“Different universe, Captain,” said Bleenor. “We’re lucky there are at least a few parallels. Otherwise, we’d have no way to get oriented.”

“The parallels,” said Bot Two, “might end up being more confusing than helpful. I suggest you take nothing for granted.”

“Just like you to advocate for caution,” said Bot One. “I say we piece together as much as we can from the similarities.”

“Cautious optimism, then,” said Bleenor. “Business as usual. What’s different is this parasite. Too bad our only source of info is in a coma.”

“She is merely sedated,” said Bot Two. “But her recovery will be severely compromised if you do not let her sleep.”

“See?” said Bot One. “Pessimism. I’m going to assume that this parallel universe might also have a parallel newsnet system.”

With that, the servicebot appeared to go dead until, a moment later, its status lights began flickering in a series of short, slow pulses.

“Great,” said Zevdra. “Now Bot One’s in a coma, too.”

“Give it a chance,” said Bleenor. “You have somewhere to go just now?”

Fortunately, Bot One sprung back to life the next second ─ before Bleenor’s mounting frustration made him say things he’d regret later.

“Sorry,” said the servicebot. “I had to run the entire decryption gamut to find the correct access codes. Turns out they’re a simple variant of ours.”

“And?” asked Zevdra.

“The Alornoz,” said Bot One, “is a symbiotic species with a talent for total mentallic control.”

“You mean it reads minds?” asked Bleenor.

“Reads and writes, I’m afraid,” said Bot One. “According to the newsnets, a recent victim was snared at a beach resort, while trying to save a drowning child. But the child was a mental illusion, created by a symbiote that had jumped into the ocean a moment before. The victim no sooner reached out to the illusion than the symbiote leaped onto his neck.”

Zevdra shuddered.

“And … and what now?” she asked.

“Now the victim lives and breathes for the symbiote,” said Bot One. “That’s how they’ve spread from world to world over the last fifty cycles. The victim was last seen stepping into a space freighter for a distant star system.”

“Didn’t anyone try to stop him?” asked Bleenor.

As the servicebot explained, the victim showed no outward sign of infestation. Nothing was suspected until his family reported him missing and investigators discovered his credit account had been transferred to a sector of space-time lightyears away from his homeworld.

“Can’t blame these humans for wanting to escape,” said Zevdra. “So I guess it’s too much to hope that the … the Alornoz only preys on humans.”

“Any sentient species is vulnerable,” said Bot One.

“How widespread is this phenomenon?” asked Bot Two. “It seems unlikely that any species could have infiltrated the entire cosmos.”

“Good point, Two,” said its android companion. “Verifying … Yes! We need only travel 1000 parsecs in any direction to reach a sector of space-time where….”

Bleenor smacked his exoplated forehead.

“Only a thousand?” he asked. “The Shiny Nova isn’t built for long-range flight. More than ten parsecs and we’d have to overhaul the spacefolders.”

“Don’t they have space stations in this universe?” asked Zevdra.

“Probably,” said Bleenor. “And a credit system too! Do you have seventy-five thousand credits lying around for engine work?”

Zevdra’s antennae drooped.

“Come on … come on, don’t snap at me like that,” she said. “I’m trying to think,”

Bleenor hung his head.

“Sorry, Zev,” said Bleenor.

“Stop calling me that!” his Captain shouted. “I’m still your superior officer.”

Bleenor stared at her a moment, his heart racing. Why, he wondered, did his body suddenly feel like it was made entirely of lead? His quiet voice trembled ever so slightly.

“Awaiting orders, Captain,” he said and raced down the spiral stairs leading to the lower decks.

“What’s wrong with him?” whispered Zevdra. “Moons of Helnor-Devanne, Two, do you think the parasite’s got him?”

“Scanners indicate the source of his condition involves no alien life form,” said Bot Two.

“What then?” asked Zevdra.

“It is not my place to speculate,” said the servicebot.

“Answer me!” said Zevdra. “That’s an order.”

“His condition,” said Bot Two, “is consistent with deep emotional attachment, aggravated by embarrassment, and grief.”

“Grief?” asked Zevdra. “I had no idea. He didn’t mention a death in the family.”

“Captain,” said Bot One, “please. Asking Two and me to speculate about utterly illogical organic emotional responses puts too much strain on our central processors. I will … try … to assist you by asking what I believe to be a relevant question.”

“So?” asked Zevdra.

“Is it possible,” asked Bot One, “that Navigator Bleenor … loves you?”

(To be continued in Episode Four)

^^^

Image by Ben Lodge, Unsplash.

Mark Laporta is the acclaimed author of the Changing Hearts of Ixdahan Daherek series and the new novel, Probability Shadow, which was published in October by Chickadee Prince Books, available now in paperback or ebook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble or at a bookstore near you.