The Archer's Paradox - The Travis Fletcher Chronicles (7 page)

“Why do they do that?” the experience had shaken The Journalist. She had finished two glasses of wine in quick succession and was trembling visibly.

“Bravado mostly.” he replied, still with a slight tremble in his voice. “I suppose it’s partially my fault.” he admitted. “I instigated the departing ritual. I used to come here alone and eventually others joined me and it grew from there. There is no need for the windows to be transparent during entry, they want to feel what the first pioneers of hyperspace travel felt,
even
though they know it is only for a few seconds. You will never get used to it, it’s just as disturbing the hundredth time as it was the first. Also,” he continued, “hyperspace travel is still very dangerous. As someone once said, ‘Travelling through hyperspace ain’t like dusting crops, kid.’” he put on a bad American accent for the quote. “The ship uses a fantastic amount of energy, enough to rip a small planet apart, and is tearing a hole between two realities. One miscalculation or failure and this ship is toast. I suppose it’s nice to see it coming. Would you take a blindfold to face a firing squad? I wouldn’t.”

Still trying to grapple with ideas well beyond her comprehension, she probed further. “We discussed last time that travelling faster than light only existed in science fiction, so what are we doing this time?”

“We have simply gone somewhere that operates under a different set of rules from our own universe.”

“Explain that to me, in simple language.”

“Ok, we have four different types of engine on this ship.” he began. “The designers were pure scientists who put all their knowledge and expertise into it, without the constraint of budgets or governments, and that included the engines, weaponry, defence measures and crew facilities. We can out manoeuvre, out run, out gun and shrug off more damage than just about anything in the galaxy and still have a three course dinner and cocktails.” The Journalist smiled appropriately at The Mercenary’s humour. “Two engines are for normal travel, one uses the natural magnetic fields that occur everywhere, not particularly fast, but highly manoeuvrable for such a bulky vessel. The second is the fusion drive, which uses hydrogen and some highly volatile elements for fuel. Basically, light the blue touch paper and stand back. The other two are for interstellar travel.” he paused to collect his thoughts and take a drink. “The Compression Drive, we’ve talked about already. The Hyperspace Drive tears a hole between two realities. Basically
we fly into a reality where the laws of physics are different. I never took Quantum Physics at school but as far as I understand it, in hyperspace we do not exist as a three-dimensional object, we spread out like oil on water and if left unchecked will eventually touch all corners of the universe. The trick is to find an ‘anchor point’ where you want to end up, create an exit point and pull your scattered molecules to that point and out into normal space again. As I said, this takes massive amounts of energy; you never enter hyperspace unless you have enough to get back out again.”

Not for the first time, a wave of vertigo swept over The Journalist. Too much, too fast and no time to assimilate the information. “How long do we spend in hyperspace?” The question was logical but delivered with an edge of hysteria.

“About three months in hyperspace and another month under full Compression Drive because where we are going is too crowded to use a hyperspace exit point.”

“Where are we going?” The Journalist was intrigued.

“My dear, we are going to the centre of the galaxy and the birthplace of all things, where I will introduce you to the Hunab Ku. You, my dear, are to meet the oldest and most venerable beings in the galaxy, as well as ancient ancestors to all humanoid life. Cheers!” he raised his glass to The Journalist in salute, put his head back and poured the contents down his throat.

Breathing was difficult.
Don’t force it
. Long, slow, deep inhalations and exhalations through the mouth seemed to work best. It was like having a paper bag over your head: breathe gently and you can get enough oxygen through the fibres, breath sharply and you suck the bag over your mouth and get nothing. He opened his eyes but there was nothing to see. Featureless black turned to bland white. There was nothing to focus on, no movement, no change in colour, brightness or texture. He willed his head to turn right and then left. No change. He could not even tell if his head had moved. How about up and down? No, nothing there either. He was not even sure which was up or down. No hand moved in front of his face at his command either. He had been here before, only last time he was in the familiar surroundings of a hospital ward.

So, I’m dead am I?
He felt strangely calm about the prospect.
Those two spooks were just my imagination playing tricks on me. Or were they angels with bad attitudes and an evil sense of humour? If they were angels, is this Heaven or Hell’s idea of a bad joke?
It did not fit the accepted description of either. He examined the angel theory for a second and dismissed it. He was alive, but where or how he did not know.

I am familiar with the concept of Heaven and Hell and I can assure you that this is neither, but neither has your life ended
. A female voice; not his original visitor but with a tantalizingly similar quality, interrupted his thoughts. He could not place the direction as it seemed to emanate from inside his own head. A blur moved into his vision from his left and stopped in front of him. The figure was dressed completely in white, but the image was distorted as if viewed though a concave lens. At least he knew he was vertical.
I am Sundaravāda Ci
ṭṭ
e and I will be your Ts’ats’aak as you recover. You are currently in a healing tank in a White Room on The Interstellar Explorer Two which is taking us to Otoch.
She had anticipated his questions accurately although the answers left him none the wiser.
So, you are to be the savoir of our race,
she continued,
I expected you to be taller.
The attempt at wry humour seemed a little out of place in this environment.

You’re my what?

There was a pause.
Doctor or Healer, is the closest translation the ship can find, so that will suffice.

Ok, so what’s a ‘healing tank’? Last time I was in the White Room, it was a Goth bar with live music that I used to frequent.
An oxymoron as it was painted completely black, he mused to himself.
Where exactly is Otoch and why do we need a ship to get there?

My Aantah
, there was a long pause,
my assistant, Niji No Tori, will answer your questions. I must go to prepare for our next session. You are making excellent progress.
Sundaravāda Ci
ṭṭ
e moved out of view as a second figure moved in.

I will do my best to give you all the answers you require
. A smaller build but also dressed in white, with the distortion it could have been the same person except that the ‘voice’ sounded younger, eager to please and seemed to be tinged with an edge of awe and a little apprehension.
I will answer the last questions first. The names will be translated for you because I have researched some star maps while we waited for your arrival.
She sounded pleased with herself.

How nice of you
. The heavy layer of sarcasm passed over the other unnoticed.

Otoch is our home planet and it is the last habitable planet of the Xi Scorpii cluster. It orbits Xi Scorpius C. Before the last war, our civilisation inhabited planets in all of the five Xi Scorpii stars. When the war finished, which we call The Fall by the way, Otoch was the only planet capable of healing itself whilst sustaining life in any quantity. So any survivors that could do so, moved there to rebuild our civilisation
. Her ‘voice’ had a sing-song lilt like a child reciting a speech she had been practising for days.
Otoch is nearly ninety-three light years or just over twenty-eight parsecs away from Earth.

Ninety-three light years. The numbers sounded big but meant little as Travis had nothing to measure them against. It was ninety-six million miles to the Sun from Earth and light took eight minutes to get to Earth, he remembered that from a science lesson at school.
Eight light minutes. Multiply ninety-three by seven and a half to find how far light travels in an hour, that’s …..
bollocks
! It’s not commutable, let’s leave it at that. So, this is why I needed mathematics!
He sensed amusement from his visitor.

What’s so funny?
He was annoyed, partially with himself for being so useless, both physically and mentally, but also with his visitor for no logical reason.

My apologies
, Niji No Tori bowed,
it was something Xnuk Ek’ said when she brought you on-board.

Yes
, he replied acidly,
I can imagine what she said
.
Do continue.

Your body has been very badly damaged so we have placed you in a healing tank. The liquid you are immersed in will mend your bones and reconstruct your organs while Sundaravāda Ci
ṭṭ
e attends to the neural damage you sustained
. Travis knew he should be
alarmed at this point but his head felt stuffed full of cotton wool. He was feeling tired and a little nauseous. Everything seemed to be receding, as if he was freefalling down a well.

What’s happening? I feel a little strange
.

You are being sedated so Sundaravāda Ci
ṭṭ
e can begin the session.
A distant voice echoed from the top of the well. He was aware of another body close by. He felt a light touch on the back of his neck. There was a pause, then he felt - no, ‘felt’ was the wrong word - he experienced another consciousness slipping in next to his just as he finally succumbed to unconsciousness. In the microsecond before the blackness overwhelmed him, the second consciousness merged with his own. He had a momentary flash of great age, experience, beauty, peace, deep seated sorrow and loss.

**********

“You wish to see me?” Xnuk Ek’ stood in the open doorway of Wingu Kanzu’s cabin. He closed the communication from The Council he had been re-reading and the holographic symbols that hung in the air above his computer station dissipated before she had a chance to see them. Not that she would; the Code of Honour specifically forbade intentional prying of any kind. He motioned her inside and indicated the chair that had oozed from the floor as she entered. She sat and regarded her mentor, who exuded an air of disquiet. This was unlike him, he usually kept his emotions and stray thoughts locked behind an impregnable mental wall. This unnerved her but she kept her own thoughts under control and made a quick inspection to satisfy herself that her own mental defences were in place.

“This has been your first excursion away from Otoch?” - she nodded in the affirmative - “You have been my
Paal Kanik
for ten years and I have always considered you to be my best and most attentive student, which is why I chose you as my
Aantah
on this expedition.” he leant forward and studied her intently before continuing. He noted her well-constructed shield between them and raised a mental eyebrow at her. “You have an independent mind and have displayed initiative and the ability to make rational decisions under pressure. However, your conduct on the planet could have put our whole existence in jeopardy.”

Xnuk Ek’ was ready to defend her position. Wingu Kanzu would expect nothing less from her, but she was also prepared to accept his judgement on her. “Our existence is already in jeopardy.” she countered.

“Nevertheless,” he continued, “you displayed an open hostility to The Original that countered all your training.”

“He has as much in common with the Originals as a single cell organism!” her tone was derisory. “His thoughts are violent, self-serving and primitive. His body is as poisoned as his mind. Could you not smell all the chemicals and toxins rotting his flesh?” she spat the words out as if expelling a piece of rotten fruit. “In fact, the whole planet stank of decay and death. How he can serve our need is one of the great mysteries of the universe.” she finished in an almost pleading tone.

“Enough!” The single word carried with it a severe mental reprimand that brought a sudden end to her tirade.

“Yes,
Nuuktak
,” her body language became submissive under the weight of the other’s authority, “I am sorry. But what has gone wrong here?” she held her arms out, palms up, plaintively.

“It is true that some catastrophe has occurred and the true power of The Originals has been lost, but he does carry the gene, albeit hidden and dormant. We will need to analyse the data gathered to discover what happened in our absence.” he paused and stood with his fist on the desk to overshadow his
Paal Kanik.
“In the meantime you will attend his needs.”

“Me!” her voice cracked with incredulity and her mental shield slipped enough to reveal her complete revulsion at the task, which did not go unnoticed by Wingu Kanzu.

“Yes, in light of your recent revelations, I think it will do you good to interact directly with him, ensuring he is fit and prepared for his arrival on Otoch. We made a promise to him that must be kept.”

“Yes, but!” she protested impotently. She expected a punishment after displeasing her
Nuuktak
but this was severe and out of proportion. The prospect of ministering to that primitive animal was humiliating.

“It is decided,” his tone was final, “you start immediately. I believe Sundaravāda Ci
ṭṭ
e will have completed her work in two or three sessions, so you may as well become acquainted.” The meeting was over.

At least it will only be for a finite amount of time
, she mused to herself. The ‘finite amount of time’ had different connotations depending on whether she applied the statement to herself or to The Original. The deception she had hinted at in the dream she had given The Original made her uncomfortable; it was too close to a lie.
Not a lie, merely an
absence of some truths
. She had not realised her guard had slipped after her reprimand. Her mental wall clanged hastily and ungainly back into place. She noticed a slight curl of amusement on the other’s lips at her discomfort and she flushed, partly in embarrassment and partly in anger at herself. Safe behind her defences she still held a feeling of disquiet. She examined it. An absence of truth is still a deception. Maybe not an outright lie, but endorsed only by the convenience of semantics. Yes, he was a primitive, violent and disgusting creature, but he still satisfied all the rules of sentience, just. He deserved the whole truth. She took her leave of Wingu Kanzu and walked to the transport tubes, the floor gently accelerating her progress, troubled lines furrowing her brow.

The corridor was reasonably busy but the floor steered her through and around the others so efficiently that she barely noticed her progress until she gently decelerated as she approached the bounce tubes. Wingu Kanzu’s quarters were two decks below the bridge and just above the main laboratories, along with the other senior scientists. The White Room that held the alien - she had difficulty giving him the revered title of ‘Original’ - was located on deck fifty, right in the middle of the ship. As she left the tube at her destination she was nearly knocked off her feet by an overly enthusiastic
Paal Kanik
getting in. They both sprang back in surprise. The young girl flushed and bowed hastily in recognition of the other’s rank. Although only a
Paal Kanik
herself, Xnuk Ek’ was close to completing her training and possibly becoming a
Nuuktak
herself, and as such, was deserving of the other’s respect, although maybe not the amount indicated by the depth of the bow so hastily bestowed on her.

“My apologies,” stammered Niji No Tori, “please forgive me.” Xnuk Ek’ waved a dismissive hand. She liked the keen youngster, she reminded her of herself before her training taught her self-control and mental composure.

“Where would I find
the ail
…The Original?” she corrected herself quickly. She knew the answer already but wanted to give the youngster an opportunity to recover without losing face at her clumsiness.

“Room three, tank two,” she replied quickly, adding, “Sundaravāda Ci
ṭṭ
e is just finishing a session with him now.” Xnuk Ek’ smiled, nodded her thanks and made to leave. Pausing for a second, she turned back and faced the other again.

“I feel the need to disperse some frustrations. Would you like to join me in the Gaming Centre later?”

“I would be honoured!” the young girl beamed. “Although, your skill is well known, I am not sure I can compete at your level.” she added with more than a little trepidation.