The Many Worlds of Dean: Book 1 - Mars (9 page)

Looking up, Dean saw a cloudless sky colored
a very light blue fading to a pale green in some areas. Low, near
the horizon, he could see two crescent moons hanging in the sky.
One appeared close to the size of Earth’s moon, but the other was
much smaller. They both appeared to be much darker in color than
Earth’s moon and gave off less light.

Turning to Quillitonoxic, Dean said, “This
is amazing. Your world is quite beautiful. What do you call
it?”

“This is the planet Garrosh. It is the
homeworld of my people,” Quillitonoxic answered.

Dean asked, “Do your people inhabit other
worlds?”

“Yes, many,” he answered. Then, with a
slight scowl, he said, “When you are ready, we will return to your
room. I will answer any further questions you have and then we can
begin to determine what your future shall be.”

Back in the room Dean had awoken in, he sat
on the edge of the bed facing Quillitonoxic. Eager to understand
what had brought him to his current circumstances, he asked, “What
exactly is the arch…uh, I mean The Path?”

Dean had figured out that none of
Quillitonoxic’s race ever sat. Watching from his spot on the bed,
Quillitonoxic began to pace back and forth in the small space as he
answered, “I will tell you what is revealed when you decipher the
data transmitted by the path. First, I assume your species has at
least developed radio communications since you said you received
the message sent by The Path, correct?”

“Yes,” Dean replied.

“Very well. Throughout the universe many
trillions of intelligent species are represented on an almost
infinite number of planets. Each of these planets is connected by a
device simply known as, The Path. Invented eons ago by a race known
as the Kretch, The Path is a doorway between worlds. Frustrated by
their failure to achieve faster than light travel among the stars,
the Kretch created The Path to be able to travel to distant worlds
via a pathway through the space that isn’t space.

“Nothing in the universe travels faster than
light. Countless races, including the Kretch, have struggled
endlessly to disprove this law. Once the Kretch determined they
were unlikely to find a way around this immutable fact, they turned
their vast intellects to dimensional theory. Once they began
looking, it wasn’t long before they found The Path. The problem is
you can only find The Path from within the magnetic field of a
planet.

“The Kretch set about to seed the universe
with The Path. They sent twelve hundred robotic probes, each fitted
with a single device that could access The Path. The probes
traveled for centuries along each cardinal direction until each one
reached a solar system. Once in a system, it would scan the
available planets and moons seeking the one body most likely to
develop life, or if life already existed, the one most likely to
evolve intelligence. The probe would then land on that world, set
up The Path device in a hidden location, and proceed to make two
copies of itself along with two more devices. The two probes would
then launch to seek out new solar systems in order to repeat the
process. Working exponentially, every solar system in the universe
was seeded more than a billion years ago.

“Waiting patiently for millions or billions
of years, The Path devices would scan their world for radio
signals. It was thought that any species intelligent enough to
create radio waves would be capable of interacting with other
races. Once a signal was detected, the device would broadcast along
the same frequency with information detailing where to find the
device, how to view its internal database, and how to access The
Path. Most species take decades to decode that signal and learn to
operate the device. Once they do, they can choose to join an
innumerable community of worlds. One individual could only visit a
very small fraction of a percent if he traveled every day of his
life. And some species live very long lives.”

After contemplating this information for a
few seconds, Dean said, “That’s amazing. The Kretch must be
remarkably advanced by now if they created The Path that long
ago.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Quillitonoxic replied.
“As far as I know, no one has ever seen them. I don’t know if this
has to do with the size if the universe and the number of species
therein or if they simply no longer exist.”

“Okay. I’m curious about one thing though.
You keep talking about millions and billions of years; how can I
compare one of your years to one of mine?”

“We measure by the standard year. This
planet revolves around its star once every one point four one
standard years. Once they access The Path, most species adopt the
measurements contained in its database as the standard. This helps
to simplify trade with other species. The computer can calculate
the difference between your year and the standard.”

“Base reference needed,” the computerized
voice said suddenly.

Dean thought for a moment and then,
remembering back to his physics courses, he said, “I am one point
eight six meters in height. In a vacuum, light will travel nine
point four six quadrillion meters in one year.” Dean was duly
impressed when the computer calculated and answered the question
without any discernable delay.

“Your measurement of year equates to one
point zero six four nine standard years. Your translation device
has also now been updated to automatically convert measurements of
length and time to your own scale. If you can provide the necessary
base references, I can program your translation device for other
units of measure.”

“I’m not sure how to provide the
references.” Dean considered the problem for almost a minute before
an answer came to him. “On the suit I was wearing when I arrived
here, there was a computer attached to the left sleeve. If I could
get it back, the references you need should be in it.”

A drawer immediately popped open on the wall
next to Dean. Glancing inside, he saw his spacesuit, still covered
in Martian dust. The computer asked, “Permission to extract data
from digital device?”

“Go ahead,” Dean said.

“Scanning…update complete.”

“That’s it?” Dean asked.

“All unit conversions have been uploaded to
your translation device,” the computer informed him.

“Wow,” was all that Dean could think to
say.

Quillitonoxic, looking entirely bored at
this point, said, “Now that that is settled and you are now aware
of how you came to be here, perhaps we can discuss your plans for
the future.”

“I just want to go home,” Dean said.

“While it is possible your people will
discover how to access The Path and also be able to determine your
destination, you should not count on that happening anytime soon.
As I already informed you, it takes most species many decades to
decode The Path database.”

Dean had no idea what he should do. He
couldn’t go home and the thought of spending the rest of his life
here held little appeal. He supposed he could use The Path and
explore other worlds. That would at least be interesting. Conveying
his thoughts to Quillitonoxic, the alien suggested he spend some
time learning about the Garroshtic and some of the other species
they traded with. He explained that the computer could display any
information Dean requested. He also informed Dean that the computer
could arrange to have a meal delivered whenever he was hungry.
After that, Quillitonoxic left him alone.

Dean asked the computer for information on
the Garroshtic and immediately a portion of the wall lit into a
monitor. And so Dean studied. For days he researched everything he
could, one subject leading directly to the next. He slept in short
bursts and ordered the occasional meal through the computer. He
would spend about two hours each day performing calisthenics to
maintain his fitness level. Other than that, he spent every spare
moment studying.

Quillitonoxic would check in on him every
day and Dean would inform him he was still learning and had yet to
make any decisions about his future. After two weeks had passed in
this manner, Quillitonoxic came to his room and informed him his
time was up.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

The alien explained, “As on most worlds,
here items of value have an associated cost; items like rooms,
food, and clothing. When you first arrived, I opened a credit
account for you and personally guaranteed its repayment. This is
usually a low risk venture when encountering a new species as some
form of trade agreement is usually obtained.” Quillitonoxic took on
an expression of distaste - or what Dean had come to recognize as
such - as he continued, “I am unlikely to reach any such agreement
with your people anytime soon and you are near the limit of your
credit account. I am unable to further indebt myself on your
behalf. I would ask that you find some way to repay your current
debt.”

Dean smiled broadly and said, “I think I
might be able to help you out with that.”

“In what way?” the alien asked, showing
genuine interest.

“I have been doing a lot of research about
your people. I took a particular interest in the types of food and
beverage you like to consume. I did that mostly to determine what
was good for me to eat. What I found was that your people are
notably fond of sugars. I also discovered that your people like to
eat some of your vegetables while they are frozen to help regulate
your body temperatures.”

“Yes, this is all true. What does it have to
do with our current financial situation?”

“Let me finish. While sampling several of
your food items, I came across a beverage you call striatal. In
that beverage was a pod that held a flavor remarkable similar to
something found on my own world. Continuing my research, I found
that while your people don’t eat meat, you do drink the milk from a
large herd animal found on this world. Using these ingredients, and
with a little help from your computer, I was able to experiment.
After several tries, I was finally able to produce something very
similar to a much craved delicacy on my world. Originally, I did
this to give myself something to remind me of home. However, after
some thought, I figured that perhaps your people might find it as
delicious as mine.”

“So you intend to introduce a new food item?
That would have to be a remarkable food in order to bear profit in
a reasonable time.”

“It just so happens that I have a batch
currently made. The computer was nice enough to fashion a storage
area to keep it cold for me. Would you be willing to give it a
try?”

Quillitonoxic stood taller at that moment.
An emotion crossed his face that looked remarkably like
anticipation. He said, “I must admit to being highly curious. Yes,
I will try your food item.”

Dean walked over to an area of blank wall.
At his approach, a door opened in the wall revealing a cube shaped
compartment that emitted a cloud of vapor when opened. Inside was a
cylindrical object with a hand crank attached to the top. Dean
removed the object and carried it across the room to place it on
the table. A panel opened on the wall next to the table and Dean
reached in to retrieve a bowl and a spoon. Reaching into the
cylinder with the spoon, he began to dish out a small portion of a
cold, white substance. Once finished, he placed the spoon in the
bowl and handed it to Quillitonoxic.

The alien took the bowl and held it up in
front of his face. He inhaled deeply through his mouth. Dean’s
research had shown him that the aliens had no nose but could smell
by inhaling through their mouths. The alien then tentatively took
the spoon, scooped up a small amount, and placed it in his mouth.
Quillitonoxic jerked his head around towards Dean and said, “By the
Creator’s wishes; that is amazing!” The alien said nothing more as
he began to devour what remained in the bowl. Once he had finished
eating the bowl’s contents, he turned to Dean and said, “I have
never tasted anything like that in my life. It is absolutely
wonderful. What do you call it?”

“That my friend,” Dean said with a smile,
“is called ice cream.”

Over the next several days, Quillitonoxic
had Dean make several more batches of ice cream. Quillitonoxic
would then take the batches and provide samples to his friends and
acquaintances in order to ascertain the potential future demand for
the product. After four days of handing out samples, Quillitonoxic
was bombarded with requests for more of the cold, sweet substance.
He decided it was time to discuss terms with Dean.

“Hey Quill, how’s it going?” Dean asked as
Quillitonoxic entered his room.

“Must you continue to call me that?”

“It’s easier than trying to say your full
name all the time. Besides, being given a nickname is a sign of
respect on my world.”

“In that case, I accept your use of that
name. I would ask that you do not use it in public though. In my
culture, shortening ones name is a sign of subordination. Even my
direct superior has only shortened it to Quillitonox. If others
heard you call me Quill, they would think I considered you the
Creator herself.”

Dean already knew this and had taken to
calling him by the shortened name mostly to get an emotional
reaction from the normally unflappable alien. He smiled and said,
“I promise I’ll try not to call you Quill in public.”

“You have my gratitude. Now, I believe we
should discuss business.”

“Okie dokie, I’m all ears.”

Quillitonoxic scrunched his eyes together as
if he were trying to look at something on the end of his snout-like
face. “There was not a single part of that sentence I
understood.”

“It just means I’m listening. What do you
have in mind?”

Quillitonoxic stretched himself in an
attempt to appear taller.