Hellfire (THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY) (45 page)

Curling one leg under her, Bennie resettled in her seat. “Church of Ia? Careful, there. Delusions of godhood don’t look good in a military personnel file.”

“You know what I meant,” Ia dismissed. “Even the Space Force calls the procedural manual the ‘Company Bible.’ No pretensions of religious aspirations were intended. At least, not on board this ship. I’m still the Prophet foretold by the Sh’nai faith, no matter what I do.”

Benjamin stayed silent for a moment, thinking, then
shrugged. “Okay, so what scenarios
would
convert the crew more quickly? It’s not healthy for either of you to suppress your urges.”

Ia snorted. “That sort of conversion will only come at a terrible price, usually by me predicting some terrible fate, like a series of deaths. Things I’d rather avoid having come true or making people suffer through. Slow and steady will still win the race, and will do so less painfully. It just sucks like a black hole in the interim.”

“So the two of you get to suffer from sexual frustration?” Bennie said. “That’s the less painful solution?”

Ia slanted her a look. “Aren’t we supposed to be discussing my crew?”

The chaplain smirked. “Aren’t we?”

Dropping her head against the padded back of the chair, Ia sighed. “Not until I know for sure my people won’t go running to the Admiral-General. I need Meyun far more as a brilliant off-the-cuff engineer than I need him as a lover. And that’s enough on
that
subject for today. Official Captain’s policy. Now, let’s get back to Private Kim. I’m also concerned about her mental health after her jaunt onto the timeplains, and not just her emotional health.”

Thankfully, the chaplain let the other subject drop, though Ia knew her friend would eventually bring it back up again.

APRIL 5, 2496 T.S.

SIC TRANSIT

Like hers, Harper’s quarters were located next to his primary workspace, the main engineering compartment in the aft sector of the ship. Not that far from hers, either, if offset by a deck and a section bulkhead. However, his front room was large compared to hers. Ia had given up some of that space to ensure a galley for the bridge since she didn’t have a need for any privacy bigger than a small living area separate from her bed.

Her free time was spent with a workstation in hand, transcribing future directives; at most, all she needed was a comfortable chair. Knowing he would need to experiment in his free time, she had ordered Meyun’s quarters enlarged by a bit,
so there would be room for workbenches and storage facilities for projects like this one.

“So. That’s the gun?” Ia asked, eyeing the collection of tubes, crystals, trigger, and handgrips resting on the workbench table in Meyun’s personal quarters.

“The originals were sort of…of Jules Verne–ish, so I thought I’d carry on with that theme. Wait—doesn’t it look like it should?” Harper asked her. “Am I doing something wrong temporally?”

“Well…no. Sort of. Maybe? I’m used to seeing it while it’s being held and pointed at me,” she amended, staring at the odd thing. “Maybe that’s it?”

Shrugging and spreading his hands, he hefted it. Despite its bulk, Harper lifted the weapon fairly easily. He wasn’t from as heavy a world as hers, but his homeworld, Dabin, was still above the point-break. Stepping back, he aimed it at her. A glance at the table reassured Ia that the e-clips were still secured to the table in holders. He also kept his finger off the trigger, further reassurance he wouldn’t fire it. She didn’t think she’d enjoy being hit by the wrong sort of energy beam.

“How does it look now?” he asked her, trying to squint along one of the upper enclosed tubes. “There’s no real sighting mechanism since I figured it’s meant to be used at close range.”

Ia peered at the gun for several long seconds, comparing it to the timestreams, then shook her head. “This bit up here should be over here…and this node thingy is on the other side, toward the back. And there was a sort of oblong, bowling-pin-shaped bit…or maybe kind of brandy snifter–ish…Sorry, Meyun, but it’s the wrong configuration. There also should only be one focusing crystal visible. The rest should be inside the housing.”

Harper lowered the weapon. Giving her a sardonic look, he said, “This
is
my first try. I designed it on basic principles of physics. And I’m not sure
how
these crystals are supposed to resonate, since every experiment I could find listed in the Nets said they just absorb whatever is thrown at them. Electricity, thermal energy, light from within and without the visible EM spectrum…”

“They can be easily seen, come in several pastel shades, and do emit their own light, so they don’t absorb
all
wavelengths of visible light,” Ia pointed out dryly.

“Nah, that’s just a trick,” he teased, setting the gun-thing on the table. “A dangly thing on a fish to lure their prey in close to their jaws—I can
see
some of myself building this thing in the timestream memories I have, but only in little snatches. Why don’t we just go into the streams and let me look at what I eventually do to correct it, so that it functions as you saw it?”

Ia shook her head. “You can’t do that without reading your own thoughts, but your other self’s thoughts while submerged within the timestream’s life get blocked out by your actual thoughts.”

“Ha! So paradox
does
exist within precognitive-based time manipulation,” Meyun said, pointing a finger at her.

She blinked at him. “Harper…first of all, it’s only a paradox because you’re too close to your own life, and your current thoughts will always be louder than your past or future thoughts. And secondly, that argument was over and done with months ago.”

“I know, but it still applies.” He tapped the side of his head. “Eidetic memory. I remember almost everything you’ve ever said to me.”

For a moment, his brown eyes darkened, gazing at her. Ia remembered that look. It was a path neither of them could afford to retake. “And we’re getting offtrack. Just accept the fact that you cannot peer into your own timestream to read your thoughts. I could do it with your alternate-life self, but I cannot do it with myself…and I’m not enough of an engineer to transcribe whatever I could learn from you. Not at the level of understanding you’ll need to succeed. I can’t do it all, you know.”

Thankfully, he accepted the return to the correct subject.

“Well, then maybe I could display a series of schematics for myself…though without actually understanding the principles behind the design, it’d only be halfway useful for building the real thing,” Meyun reminded himself.

“There is that,” she agreed. “You’re a great engineer because you understand the theories deep down in your bones.”

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. It was now long enough that he had to knot it up when on duty, but this wasn’t his duty watch. A moment later, he frowned, black brows pinching together. “Wait. Didn’t you tell me once that…well, not
you
you, but a timestream you…didn’t you tell me once that you see
all
possibilities? Including alternate realities where
I’m not a Human but rather a blue-furred rock ape or something?”

“Yes,” Ia confirmed, nodding slowly. “I didn’t say it in
this
particular reality, but it is true, and I know you experienced visions from a hundred alternate realities. There’s even a universe out there where you and I are actually Salik, plotting the downfall of Alliance civilization. Several variations on that theme, in fact. Not particularly helpful in this case, but that alternative does exist, along with many others.”

“Then why don’t we just find an alternate reality where
I
am not the person successfully developing this gun, and just go read
his
thoughts?” Meyun pointed out. “Or hers? Or its? A universe with the same laws of physics, but where my thoughts can’t get in the way of my own thoughts because I’m not the one thinking them?”

She blinked. “That’s
brilliant
. I like it,” Ia agreed. She thought about it for a moment, then held up thumb and forefinger close together. “Just one little problem, though.”

Meyun rolled his eyes. “What
now
?”

She gave him a faint, pain-tinged smile. “Last time I took you onto the timeplains…it was a bad experience for you. And while searching for someone
not
you will make them easier to find and read, I still can’t foresee all of your future. I’m pretty sure that’s my gift protecting me from the temptation of you. I don’t know how that’ll affect this trip, and I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Stepping close, Meyun cupped her face in his hands. “The only reason why I suffered was because neither of us was prepared. The only reason why I continued to suffer was because I was forced to spend two years without even hearing from you. Of seeing you only in my dreams, and in that awards ceremony they broadcast on the military channels.”

Ia flushed. She knew she should step back, should break contact, but between the gentleness of his hands and the warmth radiating from his body, she didn’t feel threatened. For a moment, dangerous though it was, the timeplains no longer lurked in the back of her mind. No past, no future, only the now. “Meyun…”

“I won’t endanger your work,” he promised, tilting her face up a little, encouraging her to meet his gaze. “I promise that. I’ve had a lot of time to think over everything I saw and think
through the reasons why you would have done those things, and why we can’t…” He broke off, breathed deep, then added wryly, “Except Bennie told me that you said if we could get the whole crew on our side, it wouldn’t be a problem. So long as we were discreet.”

Being reminded of that gave her the strength to step back. He let her go, and she immediately missed the warmth of his touch. The heating system in his quarters was working fine—he was the chief engineer, after all—but she still shivered a little, chilled by the lack of contact. Shaking her head, Ia said, “That won’t happen for a few more years. And I don’t want to put tempta—”

He stopped her with a finger on her lips and a slight smile. “Too late, and not a problem. As for the risk…well, I’m willing to take it, so long as whatever we see, you promise you won’t throw me off the ship.”

She spoke as soon as he removed his finger. “I
can’t
throw you off the ship. I need you to keep repairing it.”

Hands going to his hips, Meyun mock-frowned at her. “And whose fault is
that
, Meioa-e Who Likes To Blow It Up Repeatedly?”

“That was the Salik, not me,” she told him mock-primly. The moment of levity eased the tension. Sighing, she raked her fingers through her short white locks. “Alright. We’ll do it. I’ll take you onto the timeplains and see if we can go looking for a blue-furred rock ape who knows how to build this thing right, and why it has to be built that way. God knows I’ve cribbed notes from several far-flung alternate realities before.”

“There is no God but the Future, and Ia is His Prophet,” he quipped, startling her. He tapped the side of his head again. “Something else I remember from the timestreams. And you were right, they’re only images of things that
might
be, not always the things which
will
be…thank God.”

“Right. Speaking of seeing things that might be, we probably should sit down for this.” She nodded at the prototype. “Secure that weapon first, soldier. Lock and Web.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Unclipping a rolled bundle of tight-woven webbing from the far side of the table, he pulled the stretchy network over the gun.

Ia helped him secure the edges to clips on the underside of
the desk. At a gesture from him, she retreated to the sofa across the room from his workbench. He settled next to her, rested his hands on his grey-clad thighs, and looked at her.

“So…now what?” he joked, though she could see the discomfort in his eyes. “I’m presuming you’ll want both of us dressed for this? Or are we going skinny-dipping in the timestreams?”

Giving him a flat look, she shook her head. “Wise-asteroid. Stay clothed. Avoid saying the word ‘time,’ and strive to keep your mind calm. Do not let go of me, and do not cling so close that I cannot move. Above all, keep your mind disciplined and your libido suppressed. Thoughts can become reality where we’re going, so focus on being an engineer.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he agreed.

She studied him quickly, but her first officer seemed sincere. Offering her hand, she waited for him to touch it. When he did, she nodded, pulled them onto the timeplains, and up out of the water.

Up out of the water, and into a heavy fog. One so thick, Meyun’s features were half-obscured, and he was right there within reach. Ia usually emerged on the right-side bank, facing downstream into the future; she couldn’t be sure she had done so this time, however. The only thing she was sure of was that they were on the bank, extracted so quickly that nothing had been seen.

Down was the ground, so up into the sky she lifted them. He clung with his hand, not nearly as disoriented as Rico had been, and without the confusion and fear of their previous trip. As they rose, the mist gradually thinned and receded, until they hovered high over the timeplains, eyeing a thick, sprawling mist that occupied several squid-like valleys, life-paths directly related to the relationship the two of them couldn’t, shouldn’t have.

“So, what do we look for?”
Meyun finally asked, peering at the wrinkled landscape below.
“Blue-furred rock apes?”

“No. There is a lifetime where someone discovers the trick of shaping crysium, and an engineer uses the reshaped crystals to form a Feyori-inducing gun.”
It was like baiting a hook, or checking off boxes on a search list. Ia itemized each thing they needed out loud. Beneath them, the landscape rippled and shifted, the mist inching ripple by ripple off somewhere to the
side, behind them.
“The engineer is Human, like you, and he lives in a universe with our exact same physical laws. But there are no Zida”ya coming to destroy his Milky Way Galaxy.

“He does, however, work for a half-Human, half-Feyori captain—male—who wishes to enter Feyori politics in order to get them to stop bothering his Human kin. Your not-other-self’s name is Jed Maxwell, and he has figured out how the conversion guns work, with a deep and eloquent, written level of understanding.”