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Vortex Episode 6

Vortex Episode Six: On Serlat 3

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

The trip to the metaversal parallel of Serlat 3 was easily the most tense time in the two insectoids’ lives. Instead of indulging in wise-cracking banter, they were forced into sullen silence. There was no escaping the thought that this flight was merely a detour on their way to mental oblivion.

To protect themselves, they’d both adopted the same defensive strategy. Maybe, they both hoped, if they emptied their minds, the Alornoz that had infested the ship’s AI would have less to use against them. But they were mistaken.

“You might as well relax,” the symbiote said through the ship’s intercom. “Your attempt to minimize your mental activity is as conspicuous to me as if you were reliving a childhood trauma ─ which, by the look of things, the two of you know nothing about.”

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” asked Zevdra.

“No,” said the symbiote. “But it does make your minds rather boring.”

“Step out of the human,” said Bleenor, “an wriggle around out in the open a while. I have a length of pipe in the engine room that will give you all the trauma you’ll ever need.”

“There,” said the symbiote. “Much better. A quick snack of stifled rage is the perfect pick-me-up, after hours in a coma.”

There was so much more to Bleenor’s angry rant, but he held his tongue. Instinctively, he turned the discussion in a different direction, for reasons he dared not articulate to himself.

“So what’s your plan, Big Shot?” he asked. “Once your species has locked up every sentient mind in this universe, what will you do for an encore?”

A smug chuckle rolled out of the intercom speakers.

“Oh that,” said the symbiote, “that will take ages. At the moment, we’re focused on the survival of the fittest, which is clearly us. You single-mind sentients are too limited to compete.”

“Is that it?” asked Bleenor. “Or is your real problem that you have no ideas of your own ─ and you’re completely dependent on your hosts?”

“Since when is dependency a failing?” asked the symbiote. “I have it on good authority from your own mind that you, my little bug, are totally dependent on Zevdra’s well-being. For example.”

Zevdra doubled over in pain.

“What….” she gasped. “What are you … Bleenor … help … help me!”

Zevdra’s shrieks pierced Bleenor’s ears like jagged shards of glass. He raced to her side.

“Cut it out,” he yelled. “If ‘fitness’ tells you to torture someone, torture me.”

“My pleasure,” said the symbiote. As Zevdra felt her own agony subside, she watched helpless, while Bleenor fell to the floor of the command center, his mandibles clacking uncontrollably.

“Stop it!” she shouted. “He’s worth a thousand of you.”

“Ha!” said the symbiote. “Better check your figures.”

“That’s it,” said Zevdra. “Emergency override code Z/Zero-One-Three-Eight. Initiate electrical system shutdown now!”

Immediately, the Shiny Nova went dark. Bleenor’s body, which had been writhing in pain, suddenly relaxed. Like Zevdra and everything else that wasn’t bolted down, he floated upward.

“Like to see that symbiote control an AI with no power,” said Zevdra.

“Good thinking,” said Bleenor, “Only you shut off life support too and … um … artificial gravity.”

“Can’t help it,” said Zevdra. “I’d rather die than let that monster hurt you. Come on, we still have our pressure suits. If we snap on helmets we might make it to Serlat 3, and find a solution.

“Have my doubts,” said Bleenor. “But the air’s already getting thin. Helmets are in the supply closets below.”

With the AI blockade turned off, the two insectoids pulled themselves down the titanium spiral staircase leading to the lower deck. Bleenor grabbed a helmet for Zevdra, helped her on with it, then waited while she returned the favor. Lucky for them, with the helmet in place, each suit had its own limited power source. Soon his sigh echoed in Zevdra’s ears through their shared comlink.

“Better than nothing,” he said. “And the helmet’s sensors indicate we’re now in orbit around Serlat 3. But how are we going to land without power? We can’t even open the Launch Bay doors.”

“Good thing one of us bothered to read the Shiny Nova’s operating manual,” said Zevdra. “We can restore power to just the Launch Bay. The landers have their own power supply.”

Bleenor smiled at first, before a cloud crossed his multifaceted eyes.

“Only thing that worries me,” he said, “is that the Alornoz might have seen your plan in your mind and taken evasive maneuvers.”

“Bot One,” Zevdra called out. “Any trace of the symbiote in any of our systems?”

When the servicebot replied, its voice was strangely altered.

“You might say, Captain,” it said, “that the symbiote is more adaptable than you anticipated. Though I do admire your ingenuity. Let’s call a truce, shall we? No more pain from me, and no more power outages from you. Now, I suggest we take Lander 2. Much roomier.”

Zevdra glanced at Bleenor, whose defeated shrug of all four shoulders confirmed her fears. The three of them climbed into the waiting lander.

“Partial electrical system reboot, Launch Bay,” said Zevdra. “Code ZP/Five-Four-Two-Nine. Initiate.”

A deep, whirling hum filled their ears as the Launch Bay sprang back to life. They watched as Hatch Two opened to deep space.

“Serlat 3,” said Zevdra. “Standard landing pattern.”

“Superb,” said the Alornoz. “Now I can explore on my own.”

The symbiote’s smug self-confidence was just the mental shield Bleenor needed to send a series of subvocal commands through his helmet to Bot Two on the Shiny Nova. Soon, the ship’s AI would be back online with complete control of every system.

As the lander spiraled down to the planet’s surface, Bleenor had to hope that Zevdra’s enthusiastic awe and the symbiote’s insufferable gloating would continue to hide his secret. The lander alit and, after a routine pressure check, the two Veratrese and the sinister Alornoz who controlled Bot One stepped onto the planet’s surface.

“What a tragic loss,” said the symbiote. “We could’ve made good use of their technology.”

Zevdra pulled Bleenor close, as they surveyed the planet’s broken landscape. Even in decay, the remaining structures seemed imbued with intelligence.

“Hey what’s this?” she heard the symbiote say. The two insectoids raced over to a small clearing in the rubble. Sticking out of the ground was a hemisphere of amber polyglass, about half a meter in diameter. A bright light emanated from it in discrete pulses. Bleenor’s antennae twitched.

What, he wondered, did those pulses remind him of?

(To be continued: Read the Next Episode)

^^^

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

VORTEX EPISODE T

Vortex Episode Five: Brain Migration

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[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

Vortex Episode 4-1

Vortex Episode Four: Narrow Escape

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

Zevdra felt as if her head were exploding. She couldn’t decide what was worse: The truth about Bleenor’s crush on her — or the fact that she’d learned about it from a servicebot.

“Out!” she snapped at Bot One and Bot Two — the latter only too eager to return to its patient.

Zevdra slumped into her captain’s chair. The signs, she decided, had been visible for months. All those goofy comments, and the familiar tone he kept trying to get away with: Why hadn’t she seen it before?

The answer was easy. Zevdra had been too focused on her career to give romance a thought. Besides, lanky, awkward Bleenor wasn’t her type. Why then, she wondered, had Bot One’s question thrown her into such a sulk? For better or worse, her brooding was interrupted by the ship’s AI.

“Unidentified ship approaching,” it said over the intercom. Zevdra patched in Bleenor and the servicebots.

“Bot One,” she said. “Is that ship real or a mental illusion?”

“What ship, Captain?” asked Bleenor.

At least, Zevdra decided, he sounded strong again. But the implications were terrifying. She could no longer tell reality from telepathy.

“Plot us a course as far away as possible,” she said.

“Right,” said Bleenor. “Transmitting coordinates now.”

In a flash, Zevdra entered the required nav codes and engaged the engines. The Shiny Nova responded with a brief lurch forward and came to a halt. Soon Bleenor’s gravity boots could be heard clomping up the spiral staircase from below decks.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You do it,” said Zevdra, “My mind …. The Alornoz.…”

Bleenor leapt to the command console, punched in the nav codes he’d just transmitted, and engaged the engines. The ship bolted forward at top speed.

“You realize that’s a violation of protocol,” said Zevdra.

“Not when the Captain’s incapacitated,” said Bleenor.

“Hey, Guys?” asked Bot One from the next bulkhead. “Why are we docking with that unknown ship?”

The two insectoids stared at each other. Apparently, the Alornoz had pulled a “double fake” on their overwrought minds. Instead of zooming away, they were about to be boarded.

“Bot Two,” shouted Bleenor, “wake your patient and find out if there’s any defense against these things.”

“No need,” said Bot Two. “My research shows that the only defense against the parasites is a strong emotional bond to another sentient being in close proximity.”

Bleenor stared at the floor.

“Guess we’re out of luck … Captain,” he said.

“Maybe not,” said Zevdra. “Kiss me.”

“But Cap … Captain,” said her navigator. “What if this is a mental trick by the Alornoz?”

His thorax trembled as Zevdra leapt forward and entwined her antennae with his.

“Only one way to find out,” she whispered.

For Bleenor, the sensation, so often longed for, was almost unbearable. Did Zevdra … actually … but the next second, the question simply didn’t matter. There was nothing in the universe except this beautiful….

“The unidentified ship is disengaging and veering off, Captain,” the ship’s AI said over the intercom.

Slow to respond, the two Veratrese eventually disentangled themselves.

“What now?” asked Zevdra.

“Maybe,” said Bleenor, “we can head for a deep space station and offer our services in exchange for a ship upgrade.”

“You mean, and just keep running?” asked Zevdra.

A low human chuckle on the spiral staircase made two insectoid heads nearly snap off as they turned to look. There, one hand on the titanium railing, was the human female they’d rescued several hours before.

“Congratulations,” she said, “You’ve lasted longer than most. But you failed to see past our initial deception. A ‘parallel’ copy of your ship? There’s no such thing. We launched an escape pod and made it appear to you like a copy. We’ve had you in our grasp this whole time.”

“Come off it,” said Bleenor. “Our servicebots….”

“They were the easiest to influence,” said the parasite-controlled human. “Their minds are so … orderly. But the best part was the last bit. We got the female to violate a steep social taboo with hardly any effort.”

Zevdra leapt on the human and pinned her to the floor of the command center.

“Control this,” she said. No one was more surprised than she, when her front left arm lashed out and knocked the smaller being unconscious.

“Bleenor,” she yelled, “plot a course, engage engines and help me drag this monster into the airlock.”

“We can’t do that, Captain.” said Bleenor. “We’d kill the human host.”

“Get moving,” said Zevdra. “Two, keep this human sedated until we come up with a plan.”

“Yes Captain,” said Bot Two. “But a human can be sedated for only so long before….”

“Doesn’t anybody on this ship want to survive?” asked Zevdra. “Captain’s orders. Go!”

The two servicebots took charge of the human. Bleenor, antennae drooping, set the Shiny Nova on a trajectory at an oblique angle to their current location.

“Won’t they just come after us?” he asked.

“It’s better than sitting still,” said Zevdra. “Ask me, I’d rather dive into the nearest star than let one of those things get me. Besides, our new hostage ought to buy us some wiggle room.”
Let’s hope,” said Bleenor. “AI, does this parasite have a weakness?”

“As Bot Two told you, the presence of non-rational mental activity renders the parasite dysfunctional.” said the AI. “When you and the Captain … embraced … the human exhibited a steep drop-off in cognitive function.”

“No way we can keep that up,” said Zevdra.

“We don’t have to,” said Bleenor. “Flying into the nearest star is as irrational as it gets.“

“Except, we won’t always have a star close by,” said Zevdra. “And didn’t the human just say that she planted that emotional bonding thing in the robots’ heads?”

“Well their ship did veer off,” said Bleenor, “after we … you know.”

“Craters, it was just a kiss,” said Zevdra. “Wasn’t it? Don’t answer that. And we don’t even know if there was actually a second ship, either. So I say we stop playing this game. AI, what are the odds of finding another vortex that leads out of here?”

“Accurate assessment of probability on that scale is impossible with available methods,” said the AI. “I can, however, begin a broad-spectrum search pattern.”

Just then, Bot One walked into the command center.

“The human is sedated,” it said. “By the way, the humans have an expression for your attempt to find a second vortex. They’d say it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“No idea what that means,” said Zevdra.

“I can explain, Captain,” said Bleenor.

Zevdra bowed her exoplated head.

“Please,” she said, “call me Zev.”

(To be continued)

^^^

Design by Steven S. Drachman from an image by NASA.

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.

Vortex EPISODE 3

Vortex Episode Three: Danger Within

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[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.

Vortex Episode 3 picture

Vortex Episode Two: Metaversal Reversal

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

The startled silence that filled the bridge was broken by a staticky comlink transmission.

“Unidentified vessel,” said a weary voice. “Mayday, mayday. Life support failing.”

Zevdra cast a glance at Bleenor.

“Sounds human,” she said.

“What’s she doing on one of our ships?” asked Bleenor.

“She’s running out of air, is what matters,” said Zevdra.

“We could send a servicebot,” said Bleenor.

Zevdra nodded at what sounded like a safe approach, keeping in mind that the safest thing of all was to pull away and leave the wayward vessel to its fate.

“Not sure where we can pull away to,” said Bleenor. “I doubt we’re in the same universe as we were this morning.”

“A parallel universe?” asked Zevdra. “I thought that only existed in holovids.”

Bleenor grinned

“I used to feel that way about love,” he said. “But now, just look at us.”

“Not funny,” said Zevdra. “I could write you up for that. Besides, we have a decision to make.”

Bleenor’s face fell.

“Right,” he said. “Sorry, Captain. I suggest we send two servicebots. One to check for repairs and the other equipped with the med-tech subroutine.”

Zevdra nodded and Bleenor clomped down the spiral stairs leading to the ship’s second level, where the servicebots were housed. One level further down was the ship’s cargo bay — filled with a three-months’ supply of oxygen and rations for one of their homeworld’s starter colonies.

Bleenor paused on the stairs. If they didn’t get back on course soon, a couple thousand Veratrese would suffocate long before they starved to death.

“Live in the moment,” he muttered. Maybe the owner of the voice on the comlink could account for the vortex they’d just fallen through. He rushed over to the first servicebot and tried to steady his nerves. Even after ten years, the servicebots still gave him the creeps. For starters, they’d been built by the humans and were revoltingly bipedal. But they also seemed too self-aware to be … servants.

“What’s taking so long?” Zevdra’s voice demanded through the com system.

Bleenor ignored her. The first servicebot was coming online and he had to enter the appropriate system codes into its chest-mounted console.

“That tickles,” it said.

“Dial it down, OK?” said Bleenor. “We have a rescue mission for you and Two.”

“I recommend you install the med-tech subroutine in Two,” said the servicebot. “He’s always wanted to be a doctor.”

Despite reciting a popular calming mantra, Bleenor still wanted to strangle the programmer responsible for the robot’s inane banter. Nevertheless, he took Bot One’s comment to mean that Bot Two was better configured to process the med-tech subroutine.

“Bot Two online,” it said. “Where is the medical emergency?”

Bleenor entered the coordinates of the damaged ship and the coded parameters for a standard rescue mission. Standard, he reminded himself, in the universe he used to call home. The rescue parameters empowered the two servicebots to clamber into one of the “Shiny Nova’s” two landers and zoom out toward the unknown ship.

“Servicebots dispatched, Captain,” said Bleenor into his comlink and clanked back up to the bridge. As he rounded the last step of the spiral staircase, he encountered another of Zevdra’s holographic projections. But this time, he saw a landscape full of rubble, in which the outlines of an ancient city were barely visible.

“Thought I’d check,” said Zevdra. “You know, to see what else was different here.”

“You’re saying that’s a version of Serlat 3?” asked Bleenor.

Zevdra blinked back tears.

“Can’t believe they’d let this happen,” she said. “It’s a symbol of peace.”

“To us,” said Bleenor. “Whoever did this had other priorities.”

“Maybe we should go there,” said Zevdra, “and try to figure out….”

“Bad idea,” said Bleenor. “Whatever Serlat 3 is to these people, it’s off limits. Why don’t we see what our human buddies out there know first?”

They didn’t have to wait long, before Bot One piped up with a status report.

“Captain,” it said, “we have two humans here. One dead, and another who might live if we can get her over to our ship. The medical bay on this vessel is charred.”

“You think we’re set up for humans?” asked Bleenor.

“I don’t,” said Bot One. “But Two does, and he’s the doctor. Me, I’m more of a poet.”

“Permission granted.,” said Zevdra. “The sooner we get the survivor talking, the better.”

“I’ll tell Two not to sedate her so fast” said Bot One. “Never saw anybody so eager to give an injection.”

A few minutes later, Zevdra and Bleenor met Bot Two in the Shiny Nova’s medical bay.

“Stand back,” said Bot Two. “The patient’s immune system is compromised.”

The patient, a human female in her late thirties, looked up at Zevdra and Bleenor through a pair of swollen eyelids.

“Never thought I’d see bug people piloting a ship,” she mumbled.

“Bug people?” asked Bleenor.

“Shush,” said Zevdra. “Please, can you tell us about the Vortex we just passed through.”

The human raised a feeble hand to her forehead.

“Oh … that’s what happened,” she said. “You must’ve come in when we were on our way out. Only we got there too late. The vortex flared up and burned the heck out of our ship.”

“You knew about the vortex?” asked Bleenor.

“You didn’t?” asked the woman. “Well that tears it. There’s a … soft spot … in space-time right around here. It was our one chance to escape. My only consolation is that now you’re stuck here, too.”

“Stuck?” asked Bleenor.

“You bugs know nothing?” the woman yelled. “The vortex opens once every thousand cycles. Now I’ll never be free.”

“Free of what?” asked Zevdra.

But the woman’s energy faded and she fell into a deep sleep. Bot Two moved in fast.

“Everybody out,” it said. “I curse the programming that made me delay her treatment, so you could ask her the obvious.”

“Obvious?” asked Zevdra.

“When we found her,” said Bot One, “the human was moaning about the Alornoz,”

“So?” asked Bleenor.

“Alornoz,” said Bot One, “is ancient Veratrese for ‘parasite’.”

(To be continued)

^^^

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.

Design by Steven S. Drachman from an image by Geralt/Pixabay

vortex 1

Vortex, Episode 1: A Slight Detour

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As usual, by the time Zevdra settled into the Captain’s chair, the launch codes still weren’t loaded into the nav console. But the real problem was Company Policy. Though Zevdra knew those codes by heart, only the Navigator was authorized to enter them.

“Except in an emergency,” Zevdra muttered. “Craters, where’s a crisis when you need one?” The sound of zero-G boots, clomping up the steel, spiral stairs to her right made the question moot.

“Captain!” said a lanky, dark-blue thirty-something male. “What a beautiful day for a launch.”

“Enter the codes, will ya, Bleenor?” said Zevdra. “We’re way behind schedule.”

“Aye, aye,” said Bleenor. Of course, he knew how much Zevdra hated all nautical talk. Especially, that is, the drivel he’d picked up from the humans.

Zevdra clacked her mandibles. Sure, the humans had helped the Veratrese upgrade their space technology. Was that any reason to imitate those ugly globs of fat? But never mind, the thrusters were now online.

“Small favors,” she whispered. With a nonchalance earned during ten years of daily practice, she edged her cargo scow free of its hangar stays and out into inky space.

“Set course to….” she said.

“Already laid in,” said Bleenor.

Zevdra checked the coordinates.

“What the rotating pulsar is this?” she asked. “That’s way off….”

“A slight detour,” said Bleenor. “You keep saying how much you want to see the ruins at Serlat 3. We can easily stop off there for a couple of days and still make deadline.”

“How?” asked Zevdra? “The only official space lane is … oh no.”

“Oh, yes,” said her navigator. “Come on, it’s nothing. I have a complete set of Grelnez star charts.

“An illegal set,” said Zevdra. “There’s a reason for that. If we get caught taking a shortcut across Grelnez sovereign space.…“

“Not across,” said Bleenor. “We’ll barely skirt the edges, and shave exactly two days off the rest of the trip.”

“I could throw you in the brig for this,” said Zevdra.

“Except we don’t have one,” said Bleenor. “But you could spank me.”

“Craters, Bleen,” said Zevdra. “Serlat 3. If you’d pulled this stunt with any other location I’d be furious. Do you think they’d let us up to the top of the Altresnar towers?”

“Well, forget it, we aren’t going there, anymore,” said Bleenor, “After the way you squawked, I switched us back to Mission Trajectory.”

“Bleenor!” Zevdra yelled.

The dark-blue navigator laughed until his thorax shook.

“Is that the sound,” he said, “of my Captain ordering a course change?”

Zevdra’s greenish antennae drooped.

“Yes,” she said. “But if the Grelnez catch us, I hope they throw you into a pit with a dozen wild ferlandra dogs.”

“Grisly,” said Bleenor. “I’m seeing a whole new side of you.”

“Nonsense,” said Zevdra. “I only have one side.”

“Right,” said Bleenor. “And a ferlandra dog has only one tooth.”

Zevdra ignored him and called up her link to Sideranet.

“Serlat 3,” she said softly. Soon the entire command center was flooded with a one-twenty-fifth holo-rendering of the ancient site.

“Wow,” said Bleenor. “It’s as spectacular as they say.”

“Yeah,” said Zevdra. “A day on the temple grounds can change your destiny, is what I’ve heard.”

“You mean, like, if one of those ancient titanium struts falls on your head?” asked her navigator.

Usually, sparring with Bleenor had a salutary effect on Zevdra, for reasons she didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he meant anything to her. They were just crew mates on a lucrative freight run: Back and forth between Earth and Proxima Centauri every quarter for ten cycles. That was it, she told herself.

Then why, she wondered, did his stupid attitude rattle her gaster so much?

“The only thing liable to fall on my head is a writ from Sector Court,” she said, “when they find out about your … Hey what’s that?”

Bleenor’s mandibles gaped as he gazed at the main view screen. He quickly checked the nav console.

“Quarks in a box,” he said. “The AI calls it a temporal vortex.”

“A what, now?” asked Zevdra. Not for the first time, she regretted her company’s barebones budgeting. It was just the two of them, plus the AI and four servicebots to handle the repair work. Right about now, a Science Office would have come in handy .

“That swirly thing out there?” asked Bleenor. “The Ai says it’s a rare section of the cosmos where space and time are out of phase.”

“Oh that’s so much clearer,” said Zevdra. “What does it mean in a life and death kind of way?”

“Dunno, Zev … uh Captain,” said her navigator. “But we’re falling right into it.”

The two insectoids felt a wrenching sensation in their abdomens and everything went black. Moments later, Zevdra’s stifled voice sounded from the floor of the command center.

“Bleenor?” she said. “Are you….”

“I’m fine,” said her navigator-and-nothing-more. “We should probably stand up and assess the situation.”

“How about we just lie here forever,” said Zevdra.

In spite of herself, the captain staggered up onto her four back legs and stared into the main view screen.

“Hull integrity,” she croaked at the ship’s AI.

“All systems normal,” came the matter-of-fact response. Then again, the AI was always matter-of-fact.

“Captain, take a look at the screen,” said Bleenor.

Zevdra turned her groggy head toward the screen and tried to take in the confusing image that reached her compound eyes.

“You’re kidding,” she said. She looked over at Bleenor, who shrugged but, for once, was speechless ─ and no wonder. Not a quarter of an AU ahead of them, was a cargo scow identical to theirs in every particular, with one exception: It looked as if it had been singed by either weapons-fire or a rogue solar flare.

“AI, explain,” asked Zevdra.

“Insufficient data for meaningful analysis,” said the ship’s AI. “The scow’s ID signal, however, is still operative.”

“And?” asked Bleenor.

“It is registered,” said the AI, “to the Trans Proxima Shipping Company under the name ‘Shiny Nova’.”

“Craters,” whispered Zevdra, “that’s us.”

(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.

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