Time and Hyperspace

A Wilki Jhanden Adventure

It was amazing the things a person got used to, without even realising it. As a wanderer of the stars, Wilki Jhanden had witnessed many things, half of which he would not have believed coming from another’s mouth, but the wonder of bizarre encounters dozens of lightyears from Earth had not faded in all these years. That, he hoped, was something he would never get used to.

But as he stood on the observation deck of the luxurious Peter F. Hamilton, he realised that he had gotten very used to the lower end of what the market of passenger ships had to offer. He was a perpetual tourist, a man with no home and no income, which kept drawing him to the cheapest voyages heading anywhere. But once every few years he treated himself, buying a ticket for a price that could have gotten him ten times the distance.

He had been looking forward to this trip, the rare indulgence of expensive travel that he allowed himself. He had memories of voyages on similar ships, all absolutely wonderful and decadent, at least compared to the usual state in which he was whisked at speeds impossible to the physics of earlier generations. But to say that he was disappointed was an understatement.

The Peter F. Hamilton was a human-only ship, something which was no doubt making the author that first held that name spin in his grave. How people can stand to travel like that was beyond him, the novelty of unusual psyches and forms that so populated this corner of the galaxy deprived to them. The crew, with their spotless, unmarked uniforms that doubled as all-environment protection suits, were worryingly polite. And of course the card games that were ubiquitous in other ships were absent here. The type of rich person who travelled in a mono-species vessel was an idle sort of person, happy to whittle away the long weeks with trivial gossip and shallow boasting.

He found himself questioning whether he ever was shallow enough to have enjoyed this, or whether his memory was nothing but a pack of pleasant lies. Certainly he had no recollection of a variety of people from a selection of ages and upbringings who were somehow all depressingly familiar.

There were two consolations, though. One was the captain, an impressive woman in her late thirties, who might have been a classic beauty had she tried to be. And as the person in charge of a ship with passengers this superficial, it was impressive in itself that she didn’t strive for glamour. She had her dark hair cut short to emphasise fierce, piercing eyes and a leathery complexion that betrayed a childhood spent under a potent sun or two. Wilki had only bumped into her a few times, each as he was attempting to sneak a peek at the captain’s quarters (a hobby that had gotten him expelled from more than one voyage), and each time she had been manic, blasting her way through a myriad of problems like a farmer blasting through copperweed. The captain clearly had the drive needed to get things done, which made him wonder how she had landed a post in such politically correct conditions.

The other consolation was the eight square metres dedicated to the observation deck. A significant portion of his overpriced ticket had gone into paying off the thick sheet of transparent glass encapsulating the deck, almost perfectly shielded against all radiation except a narrow band of visible light, smarter than most terrestrial factories, capable of accommodating varying levels of brightness while offering a data-rich overlay, identifying every star with every planet and every catalogued form of life. When the monotony of his fellow humans became too much, he liked to scroll through the profiles compiled of the myriad of species living, fighting and dying, all within the slender arc that he could see. It wasn’t the same as being in the same room as them, talking with them, teasing out their experiences and paradigms, but it was an adequate substitute.

Today, though, was nothing fancy. The thinly populated sky was void of all text and symbols, with the exception of the star in the middle of the view. Or make that stars, as the system they were approaching was a binary. A few malformed planets, tortured by the ever-changing gravitational stresses imposed by the system, orbited at a distance, but were so cold and battered that no life more complicated than plants or similar was likely. Boldus Major and Boldus Minor, with the innovatively named planets of Boldus I, II and III, were all individually labelled. According to the swirling numbers, they were a little over fifteen lightyears out. Half a lightyear closer than they were last time he was here, a few days earlier.

Hyperspace travel was weird. Not being particularly mathematical or into physics he didn’t understand it, though he doubted few people truly did. Hyperspace was the name given to the higher dimensions that clung tightly to the observable universe, a phenomenon more bizarre to human experience than a sphere is from the perspective of a line. Matter and energy in the physical universe had, by way of gravity leaking into the higher dimensions, a sort of shadow that followed them through these dimensions, a shadow that moved much faster than the original matter, faster than ordinary spacetime could allow. Wilki didn’t understand how something travelling at, for example, forty times the speed of light could still be stuck to him, but he was assured that the mathematics of hyperspace allowed it to happen.

The hyperdrive that powered this ship, like all others, manipulated the way the ship’s shadow moved across hyperspace, which in turn somehow dragged the ship. At no time did the ship accelerate, yet it would find itself shifting seamlessly between sublight velocities and many times that of c. Again, he was assured that this all made sense in the opinion of the universe, even if it didn’t mesh well with human experience, and at the end of the day the universe always won that argument.

At that moment, the instant the ship crossed the fifteen point one lightyear mark, Wilki felt a hyperdrive transition for the first time in his life.

***

The hall was in an uproar.

It had taken a powerful lurch, followed by temporary spasm from the environmental controls, to shake these people into liveliness. The “shake” had been quite literal, as the gravity emitters had struggled to counter the very sudden and very real acceleration that the ship went through. Perpendicular and at two gees was not what anyone had been expecting the comforting sensation of “down” to become.

Down had been restored in moments, though, and no real harm had come to any of the passengers. One of the crew was now sporting a broken leg, but that didn’t seem to enter into the outrage pouring from the assembled guests.

At the centre of it all stood the captain, looking as dynamic and agitated as usual. She was somehow ignoring the crowd entirely, engaging in energetic exchanges of dialogue with some of the crew. They fought their way through the increasingly aggressive mob, fearing the sting of authority more than anything the passengers could unleash. Soon all the crew had dispersed, having provided what information they could in exchange for fresh instructions.

“Silence!” she said over the angry surge of words, bringing their tirades to a halt. “As you are aware, we have had something of a situation, but it is nothing to be concerned about.”

“Bit of a situation?” one of the passengers started, a rotund man in his forties Wilki had mentally labelled as Fatty.

“This has been known to happen, though it is a rare occurrence,” the captain said, silencing Fatty with a glare. “Our hypershadow hit a particularly rough patch of topology, which has thrown off the calculations of the central computer. In short, we no longer know where we are, but we appear to be only some small distance off course.”

Jhanden knew that last part to be downplayed somewhat. Having been on the observation deck at the time, he had seen the glass try to determine their location. It had identified a few stars almost instantly based on their spectral emissions, but the Boldus system was nowhere to be seen.

“However,” the captain continued, raising her voice, “we are already broadcasting a distress signal. I have gotten a reply from a naval ship of the Human Domain, and they are already on route to rescue us. They can trace our signal right to us, so there is nothing to be worried about.”

“Why did we have to come here?” a fresh faced boy in his late teens complained, striking a murmur of agreement. Young, as Wilki was thinking of him, seemed bolstered by the support. “This area of space is famous for disasters and disappearances. We should have gone around!”

The captain silenced the swelling dissent with a wave of her hand. “This region of the galaxy has fewer stars. Regions like this have always attracted stories about missing ships, but the reality is that statistically speaking, we are safer out here than anywhere within Sol’s Oort cloud.”

Young was not convinced. “But four years ago, that cargo ship vanished right from -“

“Listen to me, all of you! Not a single ship, not one ship in all of human history, has ever vanished in between its distress beacon being picked up and its rescue. I’ve been informed that our engines are fine, and we have rations to last us comfortably for half a year. I hate to disappoint those with theories of phantom zones and vanishing ships, but the reality is, we are safe and will be rescued within forty hours. And even if the impossible happens and we are not rescued, well, the hyperdrive still works, though I’d rather not use it in these circumstances unless we have to.”

And with that the captain stormed out, leaving the resentful crowd of passengers silent behind her.

People lingered in the hall for a while, mostly complaining about the situation, but soon they were retreading over worn ground. They dispersed rapidly, seeking the solace of their own isolated quarters. Wilki sat alone, struggling to work out how he would entertain himself for the extra time this would add to the journey.

As far as problems went, this was one that was about to drop off his list.

***

Jhanden returned to the relative comfort of the observation deck, only to find that it was occupied. One of the passengers was in deep discussion with one of the crew, the latter talking wildly, body language energetic, trying to escape the conversation. Wilki had the impression that something important had happened and that the crewmember was risking discipline should he keep himself from it. The passenger remained calm and silent, mostly listening but interjecting with occasional short remarks. He was too far away to catch any of the conversation,

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately depending on your perspective, Wilki’s internal debate as to whether to sneak closer into earshot was resolved by the crewmember fleeing down on of the many corridors that penetrated this part of the ship. The passenger looked at first annoyed, then turned to face the open scenery just beyond the glass. He barely noticed that he wasn’t alone until Wilki was right beside him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked the contemplative gentleman.

He blinked, processing his sudden appearance and odd question. “I’m sorry?”

Jhanden shook his head. “Never mind, it’s an old expression.”

The passenger still looked confused. “What in the Milky Way is a penny?”

“Don’t know. Care to tell me what all that was about?”

“Not particularly,” he replied, his confusion morphing into anger than back again.

“Ah, you don’t trust me, fair enough. After all, we haven’t been introduced. I’m Wilki Jhanden. There, we are part way towards rectifying that problem.”

“Cornal Skarpara Tasitec,” he replied, still dubious.

Wilki was silent, then a slow smile spread on his face. “Ah, I thought you were from a family of money… you are descended from a famous inventor, am I right?”

“T- that is correct,” Tasitec replied, looking at Wilki as though he were worthy of human recognition for the first time. “My grandfather invented a new type of rubber, self sterilising and self repairing, yet a fifth of the cost to make of the nearest equivalent material. A million uses it has, made us very rich.”

“That is impressive.”

“So you have heard of my family then?” Tasitec asked, growing excited.

“Not before just now, no.”

He stared at him in confusion. “I… I don’t understand.”

Wilki stared back. “Most revolutionary new products, and the wealth that follows, is little more than theft these days. Innovation is hard, but there are a thousand worlds in the sky. Visit enough of them, you are bound to see something that humans have never considered but would purchase by the ton.”

“You insult me!” Tasitec exclaimed. “My grandfather invented everything that he sold, forged from the sweat of his genius and labour.”

“And yet, you were named after the people who invented it six hundred years ago,” Wilki replied smoothly. “Cornals are a clever species, wizards at materials sciences. I’ve seen appliances of theirs that the military would kill to be able to turn into patrol ships.”

“Lies!” he said, bringing his face close to Wilki’s.

“Observation deck,” he said coolly, “Display information on ‘Cornal’… oh look we are in luck!”

The display on the glass changed, an arrow pointing off the side of the view now in place. There sat a label on everything that the central computer knew about the cornals, which turned out to be little more than what Wilki had just described. Tasitec read this information, his eyes drawing narrower and mouth growing wider with each word. “It’s a coincidence!” he declared, hands shaking. “Who among us doesn’t share a name with some distant species? There are bloody well enough of them.”

Wilki shrugged, grinning widely. “It says here the planet they originated from is called Skarpara.”

Rage gave way to horror as the full implications dawned on him. “You bastard! I’ll complain to the captain…” The threat died on his lips. His head drooped, a proud man defeated. “You mustn’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know, it makes a good story.”

“Dammit! If this is some attempt at blackmail, I’ll have you know you wont be getting a cent!”

Wilki sighed, shaking his head. “Money is useless out here,” he said. “The only thing of value is a good story. You can start by telling me whatever it is you coaxed from that crew just before I walked in.”

***

“An alien device?” Wilki asked.

The captain glared at him, an unwelcome intrusion into a hectic situation. She looked rattled by the ordeal, but was doing her best to hold herself together. Leadership was needed, and leadership was what she was offering. The light sheen to her face showed that she had seen the inside of her suit’s helmet a little too much recently.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, her disapproval softened only by the obvious distractions on her time. “The passenger I caught trying to peek in my quarters.”

“I assure you, I was nothing sinister. I judge a ship based on the difference between the captain’s quarters are those of the passengers and crew.”

“Oh?” she replied, waving one the crew over. She glanced at the report he was holding and swore under her breath. “And what are your impressions?”

“That this is a wealthy ship,” he answered simply.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I don’t particularly care.”

“Let me make it up to you,” he said, “about the room peeking, I mean. I can assist in a way that no other member of your crew, and especially no other passenger, can.” He paused, waiting for a response. When it was clear she wasn’t going to offer one, he continued. “I can tell you what the device does.”

The captain looked at him sceptically. “I’m listening.”

Wilki rubbed his chin. “Well, see, I can’t tell you yet,” he said, “since all I know about it is it is alien, and a device. But the unknown, especially the alien unknown, happens to be my area of expertise.”

They set off down one of the corridors. “As it turns out, I have a few moments to spare. It seems the containment field, which is supposed to be equivalent to those on science vessels, we have on board, specifically for cases such as this, is nothing more than dead tonnage. Since my moments are spare, I am willing to waste them humouring you. But the instant my time becomes even vaguely valuable again, I will lock you in your quarters if you take up so much as a femtosecond of it. Am I clear?”

“Excruciatingly,” he replied. “What can you tell me about it?”

“It is big,” the captain answered, “that is to say, bigger than us by about a half. The materials correspond to a number of different species from the surrounding systems, none of them human though, hence why we know it is alien. And it appears to be fairly dead. There are no active emissions coming from the device at all.”

“No emissions?” Wilki said, frowning. “Then how did you detect it?”

“Conventional radar, not long after we lurched off course.”

“Then we must have been thrown pretty close to it,” he said. “Even if there are hundreds around here, the odds of encountering by chance such a tiny thing away from any star systems is so insignificant, it’s impossible. Add to that the curious coincidence of finding a device in a region of great instability in hyperspace, and I can’t help but think there’s a connection.”

“Hyperspatial instability can occur naturally,” the captain said.

“And artificially.”

“Not without an active mechanism to cause it. As I said, this device is dormant.”

Jhanden pondered this. “Dormant, and yet it lured us right to it. In an empty piece of sky famous for ships disappearing. I don’t like this. We should investigate it.”

“We should wait for the rescue ship,” the captain said forcefully. “It will be here in a little over 20 hours.” She, Wilki noticed, did not need to check her suit’s clock to know that.

“I prefer to be more proactive than that,” he said. “Look, if I’m right, then we are in danger just sitting here. If I’m wrong, there is no harm poking around on a dormant device. And either way, as captain you get looting rights, and who knows what sorts of advanced technology are just sitting there, waiting.”

She frowned at him. “Even if I could spare a member of my crew, I would not risk them on such a foolhardy venture.”

Wilki answered that with a sly grin. “Would you be willing to risk one suit over it?”

***

Outside the ship was a tranquillity he had rarely known in his life. He was, almost by definition, as separated from his fellow humans as a man could be and not be dying, and yet in previous extravehicular expeditions he had been wracked with anxiety. Vacuum was terrifying. There was nothing in our evolutionary past to prepare us for an environment with no atmosphere. Underwater was close, but not quite the same. You could hold a lungful of air underwater and not rupture from the pressure.

And yet, he was calm. The single greatest cause of death among those who travelled the stars was literally centimetres from his skin, but this didn’t bother him. Before him was a mystery too delicious to pass up, and behind him was a captain too competent to risk losing a passenger.

The suit was a good one. He flexed his limbs experimentally, the resistance the suit offered in zero gee was minimal. The slick goo that lined the inside of every suit, capable of sealing injuries to both skin and material, was barely noticeable in this situation. He’d need a good scrub when he got back to his quarters, but raw opportunity separated that moment from this one.

He was mildly accelerating away from the ship, the interaction of magnetic fields between the vessel and his suit guiding and encouraging his voyage forward. Ahead of him the device loomed, blocking out his view of the stars. It was impossible to get a real feel for the size of the thing, but assuming the doors and ports studding the equator of the malformed sphere comprising the bulk of the thing were roughly to human scale, then the captain was right about the size of it. Protruding from the sharper end of the spherical body was an open cone, aimed at nothing obvious, not too dissimilar from the radar aperture on board the Hamilton that discovered it in the first place.

It was unlikely that he could learn anything from the outside, but it didn’t stop him scrutinising each feature as it came into focus. Deep grooves encircled the sphere for no obvious reason, each metre closer to the device revealing finer lines on its surface. The colouration was too difficult to see in this light, so he let that be. But what light that did reach the device from the ship reflected oddly. The surface appeared to be metal, though not of any composition used in space-borne construction that he knew. Then again, he was hardly an expert.

“Anything?” the suit’s radio squawked.

Wilki shook his head, glad that no one say him perform the futile gesture. Then again if anyone had seen it, it would not have been futile. “Nothing much… wait, that’s interesting… the device has been moved in its history. Some of the finer details of the surface seem oddly misaligned with the rest, in patches here and there.”

“Evidence of asteroid impacts?” the captain asked. “Indicating it was built in a system.”

“That’s right,” Jhanden said, happy with no having to spell out every little conclusion. “Though it could be the result of hostile activity. I’ll have a better idea when I get in closer.”

“Keep me posted.”

He drifted in silence. Further details became visible to him, though these were just reflections of the broader patterns. All too quickly, the puzzle in front of him began to grow stale, and his attention drifted. He started to become increasingly aware of the smell inside his helmet, a melange of his own breath and sweat with the thick, milky odour of the lining gel. “Do any of the crew know anything about astrodetection? I wonder what that cone on top is for.”

“A few theories,” the captain answered, “though the more I think about it the less this thing makes sense. If it is a military base of some kind, why move it into deep space like this? No one would ever be able to find it, but that includes the builders. There are plenty of empty star systems you can hide in. Or maybe it’s an observation post, and they didn’t want interference from a star, but you can achieve that within a solar system. Neptune is ringed with detectors of all kinds, and is far enough away from Sol for the star not to interfere.

“The only thing that approaches making sense is this is something that the builders were desperate not to have found by anyone. But with no stars, planets or even asteroids, they must have had supplies coming in all the time from nearby systems. They wouldn’t stay hidden for long. Unless I’m overlooking something, there’s no rational reason for any species to move this out here.”

Wilki turned over her comments in his head. “So where does that leave us?”

“I’d say it was blasted out here by accident. Like I said, no advantage in placing it here by design.”

He was silent for a good minute before speaking up again. “Have you heard of the principle of lawki?” he asked.

“Law-key?”

“Lawki. L-A-W-K-I. Stands for Life As We Know It. It is a common trap to fall into, but in this busy galaxy it must be avoided at all costs. Sentient species out there have evolved in different environments, from different stupid creatures. Many aren’t based on any rules of life that were recognised before humans left Earth. These origins shape the way each species views the universe, and each species probably believes their way is the way that makes the most sense. But these viewpoints are not universal. Rational for humans is not rational for everyone.”

The captain considered that. “And I suppose even sentient species aren’t always rational.”

“But even our irrational tendencies are rational from an evolutionary standpoint. Xenophobia, religion, nostalgia, these things all have helped us survive. But they could just as easily be weeded out in alien conditions, with other neuroses taking their place. The universe is a big place, with many ways to interpret it, few of which could be called absolutely wrong and none called absolutely right.”

“So what you are saying is, to whoever built this, it made sense to do it this way. And to them, our passenger ship could be the height of lunacy.”

Jhanden smiled. “It is possible. Lawki is something worth keeping in mind at all times, even if just to remind yourself that you have biases originating from the time fish first walked on land. More than once I have considered changing my name to that as a permanent reminder.”

The captain laughed. “So, does ‘Wilki’ stand for anything?”

“Yes,” he replied, now a half a minute away from the device. “I stand for truth.”

***

This close, the fine features of the device were coming into sharp relief. The complex patterns of grooves and ridges were becoming lost in perspective, the whole pattern growing less clear as each individual element drew closer. Windows dotted the surface, simple panes of glass reflecting the dull lights from the Hamilton. And studded occasionally between the windows were…

“Well, captain, this looks like it was built by humans. Or someone imitating us very well.”

“You certain?”

“I recognise the cargo bay doors. There are plenty of personnel access points near them. Roughly human sized, and the designs look familiar.” Which means that it is old, he didn’t add. This trip aside, he rarely saw human technology younger than he was, often far older.

The suit’s economic method of propulsion brought him in close, allowing him to refine his approach. It was hard going, time consuming and mentally exhausting. Suits were easy to use, but tedious and tricky to use well. Being self repairing did not make them indestructible. Each expedition outside a human environment was a gamble, and maximising the odds of survival was the only way to survive in the long term. Probability may be cold and heartless, but it is open to persuasion.

And so he inched forward, checking and rechecking his velocity and approach without rest. The final tenth of the distance took half the time of the journey, and this time he couldn’t afford even a conversation to pass the time.

As he had observed, the door was definitely of human design. A simple hatch deadbolted in place, dotted with a series of valves. They turned easily enough, quality engineering surviving through the ages, each part decaying but the important parts less so. The hatch opened roughly, the screeches it would otherwise be emitting being lost to the empty vacuum surrounding it.

Behind the hatch were corridors, again of human size, shape and design. They had lost atmosphere before the hatch had opened, which made exploration unusual. On the one hand, there were no airlocks for him to breach with care, no constant check for the hiss of depressurisation. On the other, he was stuck inside his suit, each step needing care and forethought.

The corridors were dark and empty, their lights long since extinguished and any loose objects hurled to the void. The walls, entirely bare and featureless, did not even have any damage to offer any clues. This far deep within the device he was not expecting to find the sorts of scars lining the outer surface, but some wear and tear would have given him a place to start.

This was troubling him. The device simply didn’t make sense. Built using a layout found on older ships sailing through the galaxy, and yet this was clearly no ship. The structure lacked economy, it lacked form, it lacked common sense. Like expecting a brick to fly. These details were human, but the way they came together didn’t make sense.

Didn’t make human sense, he reminded himself. Lawki.

He was taking corridors at random. With nothing to base a decision on, he chose directions at crossroads based on whimsy, always moving inwards yet zigzagging in three dimensions. He knew he wouldn’t get lost, thanks in part to the captain noting his every junction, and his own better than average memory. But he had to wonder whether this was the right approach, after an hour of searching and finding nothing, or whether a more systematic search would have been wiser.

Two hours in, her saw her. Floating down one of the corridors, she was groping blindly, her movements slow and weak. Her age was impossible to tell, plastered as she was with a thin suit that was clinging tightly to her skin. Too tightly for a suit designed for mobility. It was medical in nature, intended to keep a patient immobilised while monitoring vitals using a simple layer of constricting sensors.

He called out to her, a useless gesture in space. Moving steadily, controlling his momentum and keeping himself in her field of vision, he approached her. She didn’t respond until her grabbed her arm. This close he could see her face through the visor, sickly and covered with a sheen of sweat, pale, thin and lifeless. Her eyes stared blankly past him as her lips shivered, silently forming two words. Help me.

With that, she collapsed into his arms.

***

“She’s fresh out of stasis,” the captain told him. Dragging her out of the strange device and across the void had not been easy, her mass shifting his centre of gravity, leading to many mall bumps for both of them. They had gotten her to the sick bay as quickly as possible, where they were able to stabilise her condition.

Wilki had never seen someone come out of stasis, but he had heard stories. It was always described second hand, from people who worked with the machines a lot, as being like a thousand bad hangovers at once. But he had seen the patients, the way they themselves refused to describe it. He doubted words ever could.

“Do we know anything about her?” he asked.

The captain shook her head. “No. She’s lucid, but can’t remember a thing, the poor creature. But she’s human, early forties. Biologically, I mean, there is no way to know how long she was frozen. No idea what year it is, or what year she was forzen.” The captain paused, looking confused.

“What is it?” he asked. “Has she said anything?”

“Yes. She was asking about hyperdrives.”

Wilki gave her a look. “Hyperdrives,” he repeated. The captain nodded.

“Seems that she can remember that much, at least. Must have been important to her.”

He stared at the sick bay door, stroking his chin in silence. “I wouldn’t mind talking to her,” he said.

“You are struck by the coincidence of encountering a hyperspace disturbance, and having it throw us into the path of a mysterious device, complete with amnesiac with a hyperdrive fixation.”

Turning to face her, he said, “That wasn’t a question.”

“No, Wilki. It wasn’t.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“She’s all yours.”

***

The patient was looking a lot better. Although revival from stasis was survivable without medical intervention, it certainly wasn’t recommended, and he could see why. Over the course of a few hours rest, complemented by a cocktail of drugs and nutrients flooding her system, the colour had returned to her face and sight restored to her eyes. The advantage of the luxury liners was they carried the best they could manage.

“You’re the one who rescued me,” she said. Again, a statement, not a question.

“Yes. My name is Wilki Jhanden. You’re lucky I found you when I did.”

She smiled, a thin, exhausted grin. “Something tells me your arrival triggered the revival procedure. Either that or I have the laws of chance of my side. I wonder why I programmed it to do that.”

“You sure it was you doing the programming?”

“That is what the captain told me. Makes sense. No one else was on board.”

“They might have left.”

She shook her head, then shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t remember a damn thing. Though why anyone would do that is beyond me.”

“I’ll do my best to figure it all out.” He paused as she took a sip of water. “So, hyperdrives, huh?”

The patient looked embarrassed. “I can remember a lot about hyperspace. The theory, the mathematics, even a few details of hyperdrive construction. But I don’t know my own name. That should be unnerving me, possessing knowledge but having no identity. Maybe it will later. Existential angst is a luxury for people who aren’t swamped with pain.”

“I’m sorry, do you want me to grab the -“

“No, thank you.” The patient let out a slow breath. “I am thinking for the first time in who knows how long. I want to enjoy it, not be so doped up I can’t feel my own eyeballs.”

“Do you remember anything about the device we found you in?”

“No,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about it since I woke up. The captain even showed me pictures. It is beyond not being familiar to me, the whole thing doesn’t make sense. Is it the galaxy’s ugliest and least practical ship, or is it a base in the middle of nowhere? What powers it, and what does t do?” She sighed. “You know, I might have spent decades working there. Either I was insane, or it is more logical than first appearances provide.”

“I see. Well, get some rest. If you remember anything…”

“I’ll let you know, sure. Um… Wilki, what is going to happen to me?”

He scratched the back of his head. “That’s up to you, depending on your state of health. A Navy ship is on its way, it can take you anywhere in the Domain.”

For a moment, she became energised. “A ship? How far away is it?”

Wilki checked his clock. “Just under eight hours. Why?” he asked, noting her expression.

She stared off into the distance before becoming resolute. “I want to speak to the captain,” she said.

***

“She wants to go back to the… device.”

Wilki has having to run just to keep up with the captain. She was moving with her usual intensity and authority, exchanging short bursts of conversation with the crew. He was afraid she’d get like this again. It means she had less time for him than ever. “You aren’t just going to let her?”

“Yes, I am. She is medically sound and older than I am. I don’t presume to tell her what she can’t do.”

“But she’s sick!” he protested. “She has no memories, she might -“

The captain turned on him. “No, Wilki, don’t you dare pretend that you give a damn about her. This is just a puzzle to you, something to be solved to pass the idle hours. But let me tell you this - I don’t have the luxury of boredom. I have a ship full of people more bored than you, but with more money and volume, who I promised to deliver safely to their destination. I am not going to give this space another moment of thought once that Navy ship shows up.”

“But she’s scared of the Navy ship. That tells you she’s a fugitive.”

“Wilki, I’m scared of that ship. It might be old, but it has more firepower than we can handle. And I know you’re afraid of it, you’re growing tenser with each moment it approaches.”

He dashed behind her, struggling to predict her chaotic movements. “If she’s a fugitive, we need to keep her here.”

“She’s not my problem.”

“She will be if the device is a weapon.”

The captain stopped abruptly, turning on her antagoniser. “What do you know?” she asked coldly.

“Nothing,” he said guardedly. “But that seems likely.”

She sighed, glaring at him. “Fine,” she said, “I’ll hold onto her, at least until the Navy arrives.”

Wilki held his sigh of relief until she had powered out of earshot.

***

[continued below]

He ducked as the pillow went sailing over his head. Other than that he stood his ground, back to the locked door, as the patient forgot her pain in her rage. “What have you done?”

“Like I said, you are to remain here until the Navy rendezvous with us. It’s not long now,” he assured her.

“No no no,” she said, “I need to get back to the device, now.”

“Not gonna happen, Captain’s orders.”

She picked up a glass off the bedside table and was ready to throw it when Wilki produced a radio. “I think you’ll want this,” he said. “It’s good quality. I won it in a game of poker early in the voyage. It can reach the Human Domain, though barely - I think the hyperspace distortion is messing with the quantum relay. But it should be able to reach the Navy ship.”

The patient dropped the glass, it bouncing loudly on the floor. “Why would I want that?”

“Why, indeed?” he replied. “But should the urge take you, I’ll need three things in payment. Firstly I want the Navy ship called off, which is in your interests as much as mine. I also want safe passage for this ship. And I want to know your story. All of it.”

“Why do you think I can deliver on any of that?”

He shrugged, grinning slowly. Theatrically he glanced at his clock. “Huh, not long now. I hear even those older ships had pretty good range on their pulse cannons. We can’t be far out of their range.”

“You don’t know what you are doing!” she screamed, tears leaking from her eyes. “You’ll jeopardise the entire human race!”

That surprised him, though he put that aside for now. “Listen to me, I’m one of the good guys. No one else needs to know. I’m not in the business of revealing secrets, just collecting them. And I’d never jeopardise the human race.”

“Bastard!” she said, calming down. “Okay, okay, we have a deal. I’ll tell you everything.”

Wilki cocked his head. “And help us leave?”

She blinked. “Yes, yes. Just give it to me!” He handed over the radio, watching as with one hand she wiped the tears, and the other she operated the buttons. “Pull back, pull back. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledge,” the radio squawked.

“Resume standby mode. Acknowledge.” Having received the second acknowledgement, she handed it back to him. “There. The ship has been recalled.”

“I hope so,” Wilki said. “There are secrets worth killing over, but dying over them, well…”

“I’m no coward,” she spat. “It’s just… important that I live.” She glared at him. “But how the hell did you know…?”

He shrugged. “We were in the middle of nowhere, and yet a Navy vessel picked up our signal very quickly. Ever since we dropped out of hyperspace the coincidences have been flowing thick and fast, and that was one of them. Clearly they were waiting, ready to respond to any intruders. The fact that you were… concerned about the ship confirmed it for me.” He smiled, pleased with himself. “Now, I hope, you will clear up the rest of these coincidences.”

“I remember everything,” she said, “though a part of me wishes I didn’t. And yes, I recall my name but no, I will not tell you what it is. I don’t want to be part of history, not for this.

“One of the coincidences you mentioned, I am sure, is how it was that you were thrown randomly by a hyperspace disturbance, only to wind up at a base in the middle of nowhere.” When Wilki nodded, she continued. “Well, you are wrong. You didn’t lurch, and this base isn’t in the middle of nowhere. This is, or was, the Boldus twin system.

“Decades ago, a vessel stumbled upon an abandoned alien device. Massive and mysterious, the Domain sent scientists to study it. I was one of them, and recognised parts of it. I was, I am, a hyperspace expert, and saw that this was some kind of hyperdrive. Though it was unusual, and well beyond our understanding. So we fitted human infrastructure over it, both to house the labs and staff, and to disguise it.

“It took a lot of effort, but we reached the point where we thought we could activate it. So we took it out here, a system no one cared about, to test it. And we did. I assume it worked perfectly, though why anyone would build such a device is beyond me. Nonetheless, it produced results. The hyperdrive was able to fling the entire solar system into hyperdrive, and anchor it there.”

“That must take phenomenal power,” Wilki said.

“Yes, objects in hyperspace tend to move. They don’t like to sit still. The device, I worked out, was draining the power of Boldus Major, consuming it and using it as fuel to hold Minor in place. Ever since then, hyperspace in this region has been turbulent. A corporeal star does not belong in hyperspace.”

“This experiment started twelve years ago, correct?”

The patient blinked. “Yes., how did you know?”

“The stars were visible from twelve lightyears out. That, and rumours of disappearing starships started around that time. I assume that Navy ship is to thank for that.”

Yes,” she said, eyes cast downward. “This system is still on the maps. Every now and then, a ship comes near. None from the government, I think they have written us off as a disaster. But passenger ships sometimes. I rigged the ship we came in with instructions to destroy any incoming vessels by pretending to be rescuing them. There was enough computer power on board for that. I also programmed it to wake me up from stasis in these events.”

“Why?”

She frowned. “I need to keep this technology secret. It is far too powerful for us to use, at least at the moment. One day, when our hyperdrive technology improves, maybe we will understand it better. I come out of stasis to check the progression. So far, the technology has not improved as I would have hoped. So I’ve been sticking to the original plan.

“One day, I will either reveal this technology to a wise and learned Human Domain or, more likely, I will destroy it. But I can’t just yet. If I were to pull the plug now, the Boldus system would scatter, devastating hyperspace across the galaxy, at least. So I am waiting for it to consume the system, then I can destroy it. Until then, I have to hide it.”

“How long will that take?”

“Thousands of years. More. Hence the suspension.”

“But why?” Wilki asked. “When you researched the device initially, you must have hoped it would be a technological marvel, bringing improvements to humanity. What changed?”

She stared at him with cold eyes. “We are a junior race, Wilki. We survive because we are ignored by civilisations vastly more powerful than our own. Using this technology would change that. The Domain would use it as a weapon, bringing death to millions and drawing the attention of aloof gods. I couldn’t allow that to happen. This tech, we simply aren’t ready for it..”

Wilki nodded. “I see,” he said, patting the radio. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve recorded this conversation and sent it to a secure store I own in the Domain.”

“You can’t!” she exclaimed. He raised a hand, silencing her.

“I wont tell anyone,” he said. “But this is my bargaining chip. I’ll leave you here. You will plot a path for us through the hyperspace turbulence. Assuming the ship survives, I will wipe the store. If not, the Domain finds out about this place.”

She glared at him. “Paranoid,” she muttered.

“Yes, but you are willing to kill for this secret. I understand that, I don’t condemn it. Well, sort of. But I am not willing to die needlessly for it. Now, the deal was for safe passage. I suggest you provide it.”

***

Wilki watched as the lurched away from the strange device. Somewhere behind those human walls was an alien construction, in which the patient was no doubt entering back into stasis. Such a burden, to try to outwait a torrent of time, each awakening as painful as the last. And the killing. He had seen it in her eyes, she did not like the killing.

He wished he could help her. Keeping her secret was easy enough. Once they were clear he’s be true to his word and wipe the conversation, but he knew that his own mind would not forget quite so easily.

The trip was rocky at first, growing smoother with each passing hour. The patient had been true to her word too, using her expertise to predict a few calm patches. After a day’s travel, the constant buzz of anxiety fell back into the boredom of a long trip.

“You have to tell me what happened,” the captain said. She snuck up on him, an increasingly annoying habit, constantly ambushing him with demands for the truth. “The Navy ship, the device, the woman… what did it all mean?”

“It all made sense, even by human standards,” he replied. “Though I suggest you spread the word that the system is not safe. We were lucky, but others before us haven’t been.”

The captain nodded, accepting that was all he was going to tell her. Until the next moment she had spare, at least. And he’d tell her the same thing, in the hope that he could spare that brave defender of the future the act of murder, if only just once.

It's late and this is long, but I'm going to finish reading this tomorrow. I really love the world you're building in the Wilki Jhanden stories, BTW.