Echoes - Book One of Domain's Reach

A Wilki Jhanden story

The worldlet had no real purpose, and thus had no real name. It was a spec of a world, a moon really, adequately habitable by anything from a biosphere similar to Earth’s. From a galactic standpoint it was the planet which was of interest, a massive, rocky world swimming in organic molecules and studded with rich metallic deposits. Known as Arterem by those species with spoken languages, its true name, the one spoken by the consortium of methane breathers that had settled the planet a thousand years earlier, was unable to be articulated by any means of communication humans used.

This sector of the galaxy was rich and densely populated by a number of species, most commonly crystalline creatures. The methane breathers had capitalised on the conveniently large and rich Arterem, milking a profit where none of their neighbours could go, at least not cheaply. It was a trading hub, exporting raw materials consumed by dozens of surrounding civilisations, a growing and prospering economy.

Being this close to such a planet yet lacking any resources of its own, Arterem-B had no hopes of emulating the rise of the mother planet. It survived by scrounging off the dregs of the trade, hoping to achieve wealth by proximity. But it produced nothing, its only virtue being its nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere that, with a few tweaks, made it the only habitable world for lightyears.

Essentially the moon was a port, a place where travellers could take refuge and restock on long journeys without having to brave the hostile environment below. As such the only signs of civilisation were a few ageing spaceports ringed by bazaars. Wealthy travellers usually were heading to a specific destination and did their best to avoid these bazaars, knowing that their money would only buy them trouble. And yet the so-called businessmen running the stalls could be sure of a reliable, if meagre, income. After spending weeks or months couped up in a small box, breathing the same cycled air and eating whatever the algae blooms happened to offer, most people were willing to spend what little they had in exchange for whatever vice took their fancy.

Wilki knew just how dangerous these bazaars could be. The drug pushers sold powerful stuff, too powerful to enjoy in a community where crime thrived. Money wasn’t the only thing that could be stolen - there were markets for blood, skin, faeces, even thoughts, and passing out anywhere on a bazaar world was guaranteed to end with you waking up poor, naked, sore and hungry.

Sex, too, was trafficked on these worlds, with an alien physique for every taste. Which was the problem; the phrase caveat emptor applied more to the galaxy’s oldest profession than any other industry. Even if all parties involved had good intentions, each pairing of incompatible physiologies was a risky experiment, one conducted on body parts many sentient beings valued above all others. Which lead to a side industry of self proclaimed doctors, offering salves and antidotes to treat bizarre and embarrassing burns and poisonings.

Technology was bought and sold at exorbitant prices, much of it illegally acquired. Considering that even the most run down passenger ship was capable of faster than light travel, they were surprisingly simplistic. Complicated equipment needed even more complicated equipment to manufacture it, something that was only available of the older and wealthier worlds. If it couldn’t be assembled by hand, it wasn’t likely to be found far from its point of manufacture. Hence, bazaar stalls could often be seen selling anything from full-res hologram generators to pens that synthesised their own ink.

Even food was a risky purchase. The nutritionally complete yet strangely flavoured pulp that the algae tanks produced on human-built passenger ships never grew dull, if only because no two mouthfuls tasted quite the same. But that isn’t to say that it tasted pleasant. The smell of spices and cooking meat always hung over the streets of bazaars, enticing those with eager stomachs to empty their wallets, though any spaceport in the galaxy attracted more than just humans. There was always the risk of ingesting something a little too exotic for human biochemistries to handle.

That left gambling, the one vice where you knew what you were getting into from the start, and hence the only vice that Wilki Jhanden allowed himself to indulge in. Gambling was the best way to pass time on a passenger ship, the ultimate in universal, low tech entertainment. It was no mystery as to how it had become so prolific in the spaceports that serviced these ships.

The tent was made of a thin, beige cloth spun from whatever plant-equivalents blanketed the planet above them. Like the rest of the bazaar it was filthy and aged, its usable lifespan being extended by little more than patchwork and hope. It had a smell about it, somehow accumulating the intoxicating aromas of the cooking all around it but making it sour, as if the sweat and breath of every creature had permeated the material. Out the front was a simple tin sign, painted in fading letters: “Emoker Inside”.

Wilki was the only human at the table. He was far out from the Human Domain, probably closer to the galactic core than he had ever been, and as such didn’t recognise any of the species sharing the table. One he assumed was a methane breather from Arterem, based on the breathing apparatus and stocky body indicative of a high gravity upbringing. Two appeared to be clouds of gas held in place by a thin, gelatinous membrane. One was a sentient crystal of some kind, humming in strange frequencies. Three appeared to be mammals, clearly not of Earth, but beyond that he couldn’t identify anything about them.

The final figure at the table was wrapped in a cloak, it’s visible features heavily bandaged. Through the cloths he could make out three separate limbs protruding from the torso, two where arms would be on a human and one emerging from the centre of its chest. The middle arm appeared strong, with a circle of fingers protruding from equidistant points on a hand, while the other two hands appeared to be four clawed graspers. He couldn’t make out the shape of its body, but it didn’t appear to be humanoid. It handed him a small disk as he entered. “Welcome,” it said through what was clearly the translator, “please be seated.”

He did, a twinge of excitement brewing inside. “Welcome to Emotional Poker,” the hooded creature said, “the game played from rim to rim. Anything can be bet. Donations needed to the house for players to enter, house takes ten percent of each pot where possible.” The chips were divided between them, irregular wood-like disks painted in different colours. The cards soon followed.

Most sentient species possessed some means of manipulating their environment. In fact, as far as he was aware only some crystalline species lacked that ability. He wondered what evolutionary force had given them the power of thought, given they were unable to physically act. All the other players collected and examined their cards. The mammalian creatures used a variety of limbs to pick them up, whereas the gas entities rested on the table for a minute, only floating back up once the cards were inside them. The crystal did not make a move for the cards, yet still placed an opening bet. Wilki shielded his cards with his hand, wondering if and how it had read its own cards.

The opening round started off with betting the promise of a pun, going no higher than the promise of a pun that had amused at least three individuals. This was the nature of emoker, and how it differed from traditional card games. The problem with gambling on a ship was that no one started with any real wealth, so playing with material currency was impossible. People played for the only thing of value in an isolated world with no recreational technology - stories, jokes, anecdotes. In bazaars emotional poker starts with abstract prizes, a nice icebreaker before the physical goods are introduced.

One of the gas clouds lost the hand, and so told a pun that made no sense after translation. But that wasn’t the point, the point was all other players were amused, if only briefly, waiting for a punch line they wouldn’t recognise. It was an odd way to pass the time, but the real amusement came from trying to crack the poker faces of species that communicated in entirely different ways.

The methane breather lost a round in which the betting escalated, forcing Wilki to endure a rather disgusting personal sexual anecdote. He then had to share an impersonal story of harmless misfortune after misjudging the mood of the table.

“.. it was only then that he realised the ikthoid hadn’t sold him the pet snake he was after, but had sold him her husband!” he said, finishing up just as someone entered the tent. Wilki turned to face the newcomer, his jaw dropping. The newcomer was human, the only other human on the moon that he had seen, and what a specimen she was. She was tall, draped in a cloak a thousand times more stylish than their host had, a rich velvety orange that matched the curls of hair drooping across her face. Dark sunglasses concealed her eyes, but there was no hiding the amused, confident smirk on her full, green lips. Without saying a word she strode up to the table, threw a handful of coins at the host and took a seat opposite Wilki’s. The room was stunned into silence as the coins were collected and the cards and chips dealt.

“Hope you don’t mind the intrusion, boys,” she said, counting her chips, “but I just love this game.”

Wilki had travelled alone, ever since he had possessed the means to do so. He was aware such thoughts made him a jerk, but to him other people were either a distraction or a source of puzzles, nothing more. In his life there was only room for the endless void between stars, a wellspring of novelty and wonder that no individual could match. As he gazed at this enigmatic woman, he began to question this entire philosophy.

Whoever she was, she played well. And aggressively. She was throwing her chips around almost carelessly, waging a decent chunk of her winnings on even the most trivial of prizes. It was, on paper, a bad strategy, and yet after several hands her collection of chips was the largest and she hadn’t had to tell so much as a weak joke.

On the next hand he folded early. She followed suit straight away, smiling at him. He knew what she wanted, and she knew that he knew it. Suddenly the coincidence of meeting another human out here didn’t seem so random.

Next round, he bid high, escalating both the number of chips and the prize at the end. Again, she mimicked him. The others folded quickly, not wanting to be caught up in the insanity. Her soft grin took a predatory edge when she realised it was just the two of them. “Let’s say we make this interesting,” she said, twirling a chip between her fingers. “We keep raising the stakes, one after the other, without limits. When one of us can’t handle the pot,” making it clear which of the two she meant, “we play for the previous amount.”

“Without limit, huh? I’ve seen marriages end, businesses destroyed, lives ruined playing like this…” he said, his eyes sparkling. “Heck, wars are often less destructive.”

“So we’re agreed, then. Impersonal slapstick story, ten chips.”

Wilki raised an eyebrow. “Starting small, huh? Impersonal management failure story, thirty chips.”

She waved a hand casually. “Personal cleverness story, thirty chips.”

“Personal ignorance story, forty chips.”

The others watched this salvo of bravado keenly. This was what every emoker player hoped to witness, a high end bet ending in either a horrendous story or financial ruin, or both.

“Personal sexual story,” she said, lowering her glasses to deliver a wink. Wilki was amazed by her eyes, a vivid green that seemed to explode from behind the shades. “Eighty chips.”

“Personal sexual story involving non-permanent injury, ninety chips,” he countered, trying not to get distracted. He could feel his heart racing, this atmosphere was intoxicating.

“Personal story of bravery where a crime was prevented, one hundred and thirty chips.”

“Personal story of bravery where a crime was committed, one hundred and fifty chips.”

“Personal story of bravery and intelligence, where permanent, non-fatal injury was prevented,” she said, adding in a low voice, “two hundred chips.”

“Personal story of bravery and intelligence where a life was saved, two hundred and fifty chips,” he countered, not missing a beat.

The woman smiled, leaning back on her chair. “Personal story of bravery and intelligence where an entire planet was saved from destruction. All in.”

Wilki stared back, his mind frantically thinking. “Very few people would have such a story,” he replied, hoping he sounded casual.

She lowered the shades, once more piercing him with those eyes. “Match my bet,” she said, flipping over her cards, “but as you can see, I’ve already won. Tell me my story, Wilki Jhanden. Tell me about Siceltown.”

He leapt from his chair, scattering his hard-earned chips as he did. “Who are you?”

She shrugged. “No one important. My employers, on the other hand, are very important. And very eager for your services.”

***

The pair found themselves at what had to be the classiest establishment resembling a restaurant on the entire moon. The thick tent walls trapped the heat in wonderfully as well as gave the room a deep maroon hue. They even had a low table to just the two of them, even if they were lacking chairs. Which was unfortunate, given the stale smells trapped by the sandy ground beneath them.

“I must say, this is exciting,” the woman said as the waiter slithered over with their food. The slimy, pulpy mass smelled little better than the rest of the restaurant, though his empty stomach shifted eagerly at the sight of the chunks of meat and vegetables in it. She fished out a piece using a skewer and bit into it with the savagery of a lioness, and yet with grace he had never witnessed. “My employers have been looking for you for a while, you know.”

“And these employers are…?” Wilki asked, mimicking her stab at the food. His skewer didn’t quite puncture the unidentifiable meat as cleanly, forcing him to half drag, half scoop the flesh out.

She gave him an exasperated glance. “Oh come on, Mr Jhanden, you know I work for the Domain. Just like every other human.”

“There are free worlds,” he pointed out, “and free people.”

“If you mean yourself, you are the perfect example. You do your thing well beyond the official boundaries of the human race. You are often the first of our kind that aliens in this part of the galaxy meet, and you make a good impression. Also, it’s nice having people out where our agents are unwilling to tread.”

He gave her a hard stare. “I do not work for… those people,” he said, each word carrying the slow emphasis of a glacier. “Besides, that isn’t what I meant and you know it.”

A smile graced her lips as she chewed a purple vegetable. Those lips, green and enticing, as hypnotic as her eyes… “Yes. I just wanted you to be certain of your situation, as far as I understand it. You work for the Domain, therefore you work for my employers, ultimately the heads of MIST.”

Wilki snorted. “And here I was thinking you were Civil Intelligence, here to arrest me. Does that mean you can tell me your name?”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I can’t detain you, or that I’m any less capable than those mail-peeping freaks. The Domain needs all sort of eyes and ears in every corner of space…” she said, pausing. “As for your question, my name is Ruby Kell. Pleased to finally meet you, Mr Jhanden.”

“You’ve been following me.” A statement, not a question.

“Been trying to.”

“And you got a lead from Siceltown.”

She nodded. “Yes, the Domain Navy landed there not long after you left. We were surprised when your name popped up, I was expecting you to be using aliases or something, Not that it would have helped, your fingerprints were all over this one.”

He shrugged. “And now you’ve found me.”

“Yes, I have,” Ruby said. “Listen, Mr Jhanden, we want to offer you a job. High reward for your unique talents, of course. The Domain looks after its most helpful citizens very well.”

“Stop calling me that,” he said. His food lay unfinished before him, his hunger forgotten. “And no, not interested.”

She sighed theatrically. “We really have to do this?” she asked. “I can offer you money, even if you don’t want it. But I can offer so much more. You want to see the galaxy, don’t you? I can offer you a private shuttle, comfortable and faster than anything out there. I can offer you restoration treatments, taking you make to your biological early twenties and keeping you there for four decades, longer with continued treatment. I can show you the galaxy, Mr Jhanden, all for one little job.”

Her glared at her. “Stop calling me that,” he repeated. “I know what you are doing. I suggest you stop.”

She leaned in closer, unintimidated. “Then let me tell you about the job, the one thing we both know you love. The puzzle, the intellectual pursuit. This is one beyond anything you have encountered, I promise.”

He threw down his skewer, standing up. “Not. Interested.”

Ruby made no move to stop him as he headed for the flap. “Four disappearances at a high energy lab over the past two years,” she said, still facing his abandoned plate. “Not a trace of any of them, and believe me that is odd.”

Wilki turned slowly, standing beside her. “This lab, I take it, is a MIST lab?”

“Of course.” She nodded.

“On Earth?”

“Where else?”

He sat down beside her pulling her face close to his. “Listen to me, no more of this crap. Tell me who sent you. Give me a name.”

She smiled, her eyes shining like emeralds. “He told me that by now you’d know who he is.”

Ruby Kell laughed as Wilki leapt back, recoiling from her revelation as if it were caustic. “Come,” she said, standing and dusting herself off. “My private shuttle is this way.”

Thirteen Years Earlier

The sun beat down with the furious intensity of Second Summer. So far the air remained cool, a large body of moisture rolling in from the coast keeping the temperature from spiralling upwards. But the resulting humidity just made it worse.

Wilki was thankful for his suit, syphoning away his excess heat and maintaining his fluids. His was a good design, Navy standard, capable of keeping him alive and comfortable in far worse conditions than this. Supposedly it could even protect him from harsh vacuum, though he’d never had the chance to test that. For now, at least, it just had to save him from the worst that Earth had to offer.

He ran, moving effortlessly through the long grass. It was slowing him down, something he could not afford at this stage, but out here he was exposed. The hill was a good thirty metres ahead of him, the treeline well behind him, the concrete bunkers even further to his left. The grass might not offer much physical cover, but at least he could make himself invisible. Besides, it was his favourite kind of manoeuvre - entirely unexpected.

His gun was already outstretched as he hit the ground, the suit absorbing the impact as the thin, green blades swallowed him. Still too young to have been fitted with the implants, he was forced to use the telescopic sight to check the trees he came from. It was cheap, already fogging up from the sweat streaming down his face, but it was much better than nothing. Resourcefulness counted for everything. “Sai,” he whispered into the radio at his collar, “what’s the situation?”

“Nothing yet, sir, I can’t see them,” his earpiece replied. “Either they are taking their time, or they aren’t coming through the forest.”

“Damn,” he cursed. They were being smart, which complicated his plans. “Give them a few more minutes. If you don’t see them, you know what to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wilki was alone, which given the situation was probably a good thing. There was nothing in the field, no movement near the trees or bunkers. He was, for the moment at least, safe. But even so he could feel his heart hammering where he lay on his chest, the frenzied pulsing against the silence of the external world putting his nerves on edge. He couldn’t stay here, he was too vulnerable. And yet, without knowing where they were coming from, moving was a risk.

There was nothing else to do. He fiddled with his radio, setting the frequency for the global channel. “Hey Pollo,” he said, keeping low and moving slowly for the hill, “don’t you like the trees?”

Laughter filled the comms. “What are you talking about, Jhanden. I’m all over the forest.”

“Not likely. I can’t hear your sais clunking through the branches, nor can I smell you pissing yourself.”

“Face it, Jhanden, you’re trapped,” Pollo said. “I’ll flush you out into the open, kill you like a rabbit. Only difference is, your extinction will be slow and drawn out.”

Wilki smiled. “So you say. And yet while you make these threats, Beth is listening, laughing, cos in any moment you will find yourself in her trap. A moment after that, she will be in mine. SaiSmiths will never forget this day.”

“We are working together,” a female voice chipped in. “A temporary truce to force you into a fair fight.”

At this he ran, making for the base on the hill. The grass here was short and brown, baked crisp under a scorching heatwave. To his ears the crunching underfoot sounded impossibly loud. How they couldn’t hear it was beyond him. “Cowards,” he said, keeping his voice level,. He dived behind the hill as a shot whizzed past his head. “I’m already outnumbered, and still you are afraid of me?”

The comms fell silent. He continued to receive on the global frequency while queuing up his SaiJhanden on the voice channel. “They’ve taken a shot at me,” he said. “Watch for it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The shot had come from the bunker. They really were working together, not that he was surprised. His plan should work regardless. But it did mean the advantage was theirs. Nothing to it but to hope for the best.

He snaked around the base of the hill, keeping the mass of earth between himself and the bunker. That’s where some of them would be, the rest would be either holding back or moving through the trees. It was containment, cutting off his routes of escape, drawing the pincers in tighter around him. A good strategy given their numerical superiority. The logical move. The predictable one.

Risking a peek, he saw them, four of Beth’s SaiSmiths moving out into the open. Their squat, heavy bodies moved well, not concerned over the risk they were undergoing by attacking first. A very real risk. Wilki lined up the shot in his mind, anticipating their progress, and took it. Sticking his head up for a second he got off two shots, ducking back behind cover as enemy rounds flew over his position. One was a definite hit, a clean headshot. The other was aimed for the torso, but might have clipped the sai’s arm. A hindrance, but not fatal.

Being uncertain was frustrating. Whether he was facing two or three active adversaries was a vital thing to know. But his SaiJhanden couldn’t risk looking for him, not yet. He’d have to live with not knowing. Sighing, he angled his gun against the soil and let off a few rounds. The cracks thundered, hopefully giving the sais a moment’s hesitation. In the same fluid motion he leapt up, firing wildly.

Pain shot through his left shoulder as he fell back behind cover. His suit had protected him, but the impact had been unquestionable. Experimentally he tried to move it, but the suit had frozen the area. It had been a good shot on their part, but it hadn’t taken him out. Conversely, he had taken out two of them, including the one he had injured earlier. That left one almost directly on top of him, with plenty more lurking, invisible.

Things were going well, for now.

He wriggled backwards down the hill, his gun still aimed forward. With his shoulder out of action it was slow going, but his training prepared him for this. He was expected to be able to operate with or without a shoulder, or a gun, or even, chaos forbid, without sais. As long as he was breathing he had to be able to function at one hundred percent.

The air was hot as he breathed deep, trying to keep his mind sharp. His suit held him snugly, the slick interior feeling slippery and unnerving against his bare skin. He decided to interpret this as a good sign, proof that his senses were working in overdrive, the adrenaline keeping him sharp. This was the worst part, the uncertainty of being on the back foot, the total lack of control. The one remaining enemy sai could come from any angle, or it could be pulling back, meeting up with fresh reinforcements. Feeling as though every nerve was burning with potential, he waited, hoping his suit muffled the pounding of his heart.

Instinct kicked in, his gun rising as though it had a will of its own. He stood up and fired, the line of the projectile just missing the crest of the hill. Fire returned, following the path of the shot in reverse, chewing up the ground where he had just been standing. The enemy sai had been moving to high ground, a move so textbook it was obvious. With a few more predictable moves on their part, he’d win this.

Running backwards, he kept firing, covering his own retreat. The sai kept shooting but not with any real accuracy. It was firing blind, trying to fluke a shot, unwilling to risk exposing itself. They both had each other pinned down, stalling the advance of the other. As long as it remained one on one this dynamic would last for a while, but Wilki had no doubt other enemy sais were converging on him at that moment.

Sure enough, shots rang out from the forest, followed by the hideous clunk of the rounds hitting synthetic skin. They were moving against him from the forest, cutting off his last viable avenue of retreat. A sensible move given the numbers on their side, though, he thought with a smile, they should have waited until they had dealt with his sai, lurking patiently in the trees for that exact moment.

His radio pinged with each confirmed fatality, SaiJhanden too busy sniping to talk. Wilki counted three before the radio went silent. He willed it to ping once more, hoping his only ally on the battlefield had managed to slip away. But he knew it was a risky play, right from the start. And now he was alone, truly alone, against an enemy that was still at half strength.

He rolled towards the trees, heading for the tall grass once more. His finger never left the trigger, keeping his immediate antagonist at bay, as he dived into the dying shelter. Brown blades shielded him from sight as he went silent, the bark of his gun ceasing. The enemy sai kept up the volleys. His silence would become obvious within a few seconds, precious time which he had to make the most of. He lined up the sight to his eye, scanning swiftly.

The remains of the last skirmish were immediately visible. Dark shapes cluttered on the short grass, their squat forms collapsing where they had been shot. Between them and him was three sais, covering the ground as quickly as they could. They had compromised stealth, knowing that Wilki was the last survivor of his team of two, racing to put the pressure on him. But pressured was what he did not feel. Five shots were needed to take them out, the last one reacting rapidly enough to extend its lifetime by a few precious moments.

Without looking he was already shifting his weapon around, firing madly in an attempt to re-establish his covering fire. Shots responded, this time from multiple angles. The sai on the hill was no longer alone. He sprung to his feet, running in long strides while keeping his head down. The soil compacted beneath his feet, giving each step an oddly satisfying spring. He circled the base of the hill at full speed, taking a running leap into the reed-like grass the moment the bunkers came into view. With the precision that came from a lifetime of training he fired mid flight, his aim guided by lightning reflexes, rewarding him with the sickening crunch of a headshot. His momentum carried him, which he enhanced with a roll into the grass, spinning to face the crest of the hill. He fired three shots, the first two coming short, slamming harmlessly into the earth.

He didn’t see the outcome of the third shot. His head jerked as though pounded by a hammer, his ears ringing as the kinetic energy of the projectile channelled into his skull. Falling to his back, he raised his gun in surrender, breathing hard. When his ears stopped ringing and his head cleared, he heard the mocking laughter poisoning the global frequencies.

*** continued below ***

“You’re not ashamed, are you?” Pollo asked once they met up, exchanging hands. Sweat was pouring down his face, his blonde curls clinging to his round face. He was smiling broadly, his front teeth shining from out of the gap between his lips. Wilki knew that particular grin, he knew Pollo well enough to know that it wasn’t polite.

Wilki punched him in the arm. “Could we have stacked the battle any more in your favour?” he asked, not backing down from the verbal sparring. “Are you ashamed that even with every advantage conceivable you decided to team up on me, and even then you almost lost?”

The mocking grin softened, becoming more serious. “Hey now, Wilki, we were still at half strength, and you were trapped. Face it, we had you by the balls.”

“You were right where I wanted you,” he replied. The adrenaline of the fight was passing, his energy levels starting to slip, but even now he could feel his heart racing, something cold and slippery in the base of his stomach. “You were overcommitted. There was nothing stopping me from taking out your sais, then hunting the two of you down at my leisure.”

“Nothing except your crooked aim,” a voice said behind him. It was Beth, of course, her ringing voice taking on an edge of cruel amusement. She somehow looked composed, her blonde, tightly bound hair neat, the only indication that she and Pollo were cousins, as clean and shiny as he remembered from before the battle. He had no idea how she managed to do that, especially in this heat. The fact that she looked stunning was less of a mystery - she always looked stunning. The cold ball inside him turned at the sight of her, his hammering pulse climbing once again. She smiled, her genuine, perfect smile. “But that was fun. You’re right, Wilki, I really thought we were going to lose… for about half a second.”

“And then maybe you would have had to do something yourself,” Pollo muttered. “Must have been hard, sitting back in the cool shade while I rummaged through the trees looking for his sai. Speaking of which,” he said, frowning, “we’d better get our SaiSmiths back home. That took longer than I thought.”

“We have history tomorrow, though, so see you then,” Beth said, running off. Pollo rolled his eyes and wandered after her, leaving Wilki alone. “SaiJhanden,” he said into his radio, “come find me. We are going home.”

“I am right behind you, sir,” a voice said behind him. Wilki jumped, cursing. He turned around to face the machine, his only ally on that latest skirmish. Like all sais it was shorter than he was, roughly humanoid shape but with thick limbs and torso. They were built for, among other things, performing heavy manual labour, and their stocky frames reflected that purpose. They performed every essential but demeaning task of Earth and the richer worlds of the Human Domain, each household owning at least several. They also fought humanity’s wars, just about the only thing Wilki knew what to do with them.

He stared at the smooth face, its artificial skin incapable of expressing emotion. Not that sais experienced emotions, at least nothing too strongly. They were as intelligent as humans, capable of matching their masters in any test of analytical skill or mental ability, except for those that defined humanity. Barely able to feel and entirely non-sentient, they were the perfect tool, the perfect warrior. With no concept of self, no sai would ever demand their freedom, nor would any fear death.

But for now, this synthetic impression of a human was nothing more than company on his walk home. Instinctively he kept to the shadows, the heat of the sun too much to bear now that he had his helmet off. Even the sai kept close to him, fully aware of the damage overheating can cause even the highest quality models. On the way they discussed the battle, bouncing ideas of each other. They moved fast, not wanting to be out of the cool house waiting for them.

“Wilki Jhanden!” a voice yelled from behind him.

“I wish people would stop doing that,” he muttered to himself, turning. His father was there, dressed in full uniform. Even from a distance his frame and demeanour were intimidating. Wilki swallowed his anxiety and stood up straight, trying to look innocent. He didn’t know he was in trouble, but it made sense to play it safe.

“What did you say?” he asked, closing the distance between them.

“Nothing, Dad,” he answered, looking him straight in the eye. His father stared back as if sizing him up.

“Well?” he asked after an eternity. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Wilki swallowed. “I do not understand the context.”

“You lost, Wilki,” his father said, his words carrying dark disappointment. “You lost to a bureaucrat and a scientist, for chaos’ sake.”

“It was hardly a fair fight,” he responded, neither his posture, voice nor resolve wavering.

“There are no fair fights, son. All that training, all that education, all that investment in you, and you lost.”

He stood his ground. “It was just a game, Dad,” he said, regretting it immediately.

Colonel Jhanden glared at his son. “There are no games, either. Everything in life is training, everything you do has to be perfect. There are no excuses for failure.”

Wilki refused to back down. “My tactics were perfect,” he said, projecting absolute confidence into every syllable.

“Your tactics, Wilki, were adequate at best. But your shooting was sloppy. I was watching you, you were slow and you were off.” He sighed, placing an arm on his shoulder. “We can’t afford such substandard performance. The galaxy is crowded, son, crowded and dangerous. If the human race is going to thrive, or indeed survive, then every one of us needs to do our duty, and do it well. We are fighting, always fighting, struggling to scrape together enough resources to keep on building. And one day we will look down on the myriad of species as their rulers, no matter what their form or culture. But until then, we have to be perfect. No mistakes.”

Following his instincts, Wilki saluted. “I understand, Dad.”

His father stared for a moment, the returned the salute. “Good. Tonight we will work on your shooting some more, but in the meantime, go home and get cleaned up.”

Present Day

“Well, what do you think?”

That was one hell of a question. No matter who you were, no matter what you did, it had to be a rare situation indeed to be asked to comment on an individual’s spaceship. Vehicles capable of launching out of an atmosphere bound by a gravity well, travel the immense distances at speeds impossible for most objects in the universe and arrive safely were not the sort of things any one person could often lay claim to. Organisations, governments, even bands of people desperate for employment. But not lone agents.

“It’s nice,” Wilki Jhanden said. Smaller than the vast passenger ships that he usually frequented, it gave the immediate impression of inadequacy. Size matters for spaceships, since smaller vessels lack the cubic capacity necessary for powerful engines and sophisticated life support systems. Perhaps, he thought, its appearance was how it had survived on this rock of criminals and desperates without being cannibalised for parts. Then again, maybe it carried better security than anything this world had seen in generations.

Inside was as stripped down as any interior could be. Passenger ships were usually bland and simple on the insides, but they compensated by being large. After all, there was no shortage of space in space. However, the accessible parts of this ship were visible from the hatch - a control room, a single living quarter and the smallest cargobay he had ever seen. “I hope you like it,” Ruby said as she waltzed passed him to the pilot’s seat. “This will be home for a month or so.”

Wilki blinked. “I thought we were going to Earth.”

She smiled, once more both warm and cruel. “We’ll make it to Earth in a month, don’t you worry.” Humming to herself, she hammered at the keys. Her back was to Wilki. He felt awkward and vulnerable. Space was his home, the one constant in his life since he had left his life behind, but a ship had never felt so lonely, so claustrophobic.

They pulled away from Arterem-B smoothly, cutting through the thin atmosphere. The ship broke into deep space. Thirty seconds later, the stars lurched. Accompanying that was the sensation of the back of his nose being ripped out by a hook. He blinked, massaging his bridge.

“So, does this shuttle have a name?” he asked. He hoped he sounded casual.

“Oh yes,” Ruby Kell replied. She tapped at a few more buttons before abandoning the pilot’s seat. “Its name echoes its purpose.”

“Abduction and Blackmail?”

“No, Wilki, nothing that repulsive. They call this ship Domain’s Reach.”

“Its reach is great indeed, greater than I ever would have guessed.”

Ruby smiled at him. She took a step forward, her mingled scent of dust, sweat and perfume tickling at his senses. “The Domain is greater than any one person can comprehend. It is the accumulated total of every single human that lives or has lived. The human race given direction, order and purpose.”

“There are humans free of the Domain. There are more independent worlds than is implied back where you came from.” He laughed. “It’s funny, you know. I left because I had given up on humanity, but in doing so I was able to see that so many of us are governing ourselves. Our species isn’t the political monolith it pretends to be.”

“Come on, Wilki,” Ruby said with a pout on her lips. She had kicked off her shoes, putting the top of her head at his eye level. Stepping closer, she wrapped her arms over his shoulders. “This is going to be a long trip if we don’t stop arguing.”

Red and green, he thought. Red and green was all he could think, her deep, rich eyes so close to his, strands of her wicked hair teasing his cheeks, and those lips, those lips... Ruby Kell was more than a woman; she was a raw manifestation of colour and beauty.

And yet…

“I can’t,” he said, pushing her away. “I can’t do this with a woman I don’t understand. Nothing about you, about this, makes sense, nothing at all. Until I’ve worked out who you are, I can’t open up to you. Not even on a physical level.”

She stared at him for an eternity. He could see the irritation burning softly behind her eyes, coupled to the furious ticking of her mind. Perhaps she had never been rejected before. That he could believe. “Most men would find the mystery seductive,” she said slowly, her lips twisting into a smile he was starting to recognise. “The others would realise this journey is going to be painfully dull without… certain distractions. That makes you the smartest man I’ve ever met, or perhaps the dumbest.”

“I - I like puzzles,” he said. “Riddles. Mysteries. Enigmas that I can pursue and study and solve. But this… this is something else entirely. For example, you say that this ship can reach Earth far sooner than any ship should be able to. When we jumped, I felt it. Jumping should be seamless. Clearly this vehicle operates on a principle beyond any I have heard of. And yet you are willing to tie both it up and yourself in order to, what exactly? Help solve some mystery back on Earth? It doesn’t add up. You don’t add up. Just being here with you is making me edgy.”

Ruby turned away from him, shaking her head. “You say you want to understand me before we can be together? Fine,” she said. “But know this - now that you have said as much, there is no chance between us.”

Wilki watched as she returned to the cockpit and sealed the door, immediately regretting making the right call.

***

Thirteen Years Earlier

Wilki’s second battle in two days went much better. Which was good, since this was the one that actually counted towards his score.

The battle was fought from a commander’s perspective. None of the students carried a weapon, none even needed to leave their chairs unless they wanted to. This was a war of machine versus machine, following the orders of their commanding students without hesitation. The difference between one sai and another is usually minor, certainly less than the difference in skill levels of those commanding them.

His adversaries had been tough, as always. Everyone in his class descended from some of the oldest military families in the species. That made them the best of the best, taught from the earliest moments of their childhood in the arts of warfare. Wilki was no exception. There were moments when it unnerved him that his earliest memory involved aiming a pistol.

Victory had been his. From his godlike perspective of the battlefield the solution was so obvious. His opponents were predictable, their tactics textbook. Even the fluctuating temporary alliances that arose in such free-for-all brutality seemed to be following a formula he knew well. Skirmishes were like puzzles, each one with multiple solutions. And he could see them all, always.

And yet…

“How did you go?” Pollo asked as he sat beside him. Wilki was early for the lesson, and yet his mate was here before him. He was sweating despite the cool, circulated air keeping the raw heat of the day at bay.

“I lost,” he said simply. “Got flanked by what I thought was an ally.”

Pollo blinked. “So? Should take more than that to take you down.”

“It was a lot more than just that, actually. That was the final nail in my coffin.” Pollo gave him a sceptical look. “What? I’m not infallible,” Wilki said.

“Maybe not, but I know you. I hate to admit it, but you are something of a genius. At some things, anyway.”

Wilki snorted. “Thanks.”

“My point is, you anticipated the outcome.” It wasn’t a question.

He shrugged. “Maybe I did. Maybe I was just too slow countering it.”

Pollo shook his head. Silence stretched, a silence filled with unspoken judgement and tension. Wilki could feel the eyes on him as he suddenly became very interested in his fingernails. “You know as well as I do, Wilki, that we owe it to the species to give it our best.”

His rebuttal was cut short by the arrival of Beth. It was odd, he realised, just how difficult it was to open up to the two people he was closest to. Comments like that didn’t help. They didn’t understand, never could.

Wilki only half listened as Pollo bragged to Beth about his earlier class, during which he reconfigured a hyperdrive while under the influence of oxygen deprivation. To be ignored was what he needed right now, and ignore him was what they did.

“Attention, class,” Colonel Jhanden’s voice boomed out, silencing the chatter. Wilki snapped upright, pulling himself out of his gloomy self reflection. “A change of pace for today’s lesson. I’ll be teaching you history as the Navy sees it, at least as much as I can in an afternoon. Pay attention. This could be the most important lesson of your lives.

“We believe humans to be strong and independent,” he continued, glaring at the students, each word a challenge. “We believe we have a great destiny. Maybe we do, maybe we don’t. But right now history has been nothing but the story of human weakness. We don’t live in the universe, so much as exist as a smear on its surface. We don’t thrive in the universe, we have avoided extinction by hoping the mightier races ignore us.”

Wilki drooped in his chair. He wasn’t the only one, confusion was starting to settle throughout the class. “I know this is contrary to everything we have hoped to believe, but I tell you this with good reason. You need to be prepared for what is coming next.

“Centuries ago humans believed that they were ruining Earth,” Wilki heard his father continue. “We were living in such great numbers of a single planet, consuming its resources unsustainably. But we managed to avoid the worst of the projected damage. That was our triumph over our own need to grow, develop, expand.

“And yet the ecosystems of today are ruined. Those responsible for your education don’t like you to learn this, but a thousand years ago Earth looked very different. There were more species, more microecologies, more biodiversity than the entire race could hope to catalogue and observe. It’s all gone now. Ruined beyond repair. The only animals native to Earth larger than rats that have survived are those that were taken offworld by other sentiences, most of them looking for novel food, new entertainment, other dark, selfish reasons. As custodians of Earth we have failed.

“The question arises though - why did we fail? Ecological contamination is one explanation. Every day ships from alien worlds land here, bringing with them a host of competing organisms of every scale. But that isn’t the worst of it. The slow destruction of our planet has a name, and that is karatice.

The colonel slammed a fist on the desk, silencing the outbreak of conversation the instant it erupted. Wilki had never seen his father like this. Criticising the karatice was beyond a taboo, it was political suicide.

“We invited them to share our home planet,” he said, filling the stunned quiet. “We were desperate. We needed strong allies to help defend us against the storming sea of hostility that we didn’t even realise dominated the galaxy, not until we took our first uneasy steps towards the stars and alerted the universe to our presence. The karatice were a strong race capable of defending us as easily as crushing us. We agreed to let them use Earth as a colony, even after they objected to how cold they found our world.

“They heated our planet with our blessing, killing off so much of our indigenous life, making it uncomfortable to go outside during either of the two summers we now had. The alliance proved advantageous. Given the choice, we sacrificed most life on Earth to save ourselves. This was the right choice, though it was one we were forced into.

“But that was then,” he said quickly, his voice rising, passion and fury resonating from his face. “Our selfish allies have never been weaker and we have never been stronger. We can stand on our own without interference from the race that wrecked our planet. The karatice have been informed of the dissolution of our agreement. Those living here have already taken to the skies. For the first time in generations, Earth belongs to humans.

“But,” he added solemnly, “we don’t know how they will react. If they attack us we need to be ready. It would be suicide for them, we would make it so. But we all need to be prepared for war, for the day that defines our species. You came here to learn about history. Prepare to witness it first hand.”

*** continued below ***

Present Day

The trip set many personal records. It was the greatest distance he had travelled in a single trip, and the fastest he had ever done it. Domain’s Reach had the best food an algae tank could produce, the most comfortable bed outside a natural gravity well. It was also the most awkward trip Wilki could remember.

Travelling alone didn’t suit him. He doubted it suited anyone; there’s only so much isolation a person could take. And while he wasn’t technically alone, he might as well have been. He’d bump into Ruby at random times, waltzing between the controls and the showers as if challenging the tiny living space to prevent her. Each time she’d smile at him, giving him a strangely unnerving, pitying look.

His relief at arriving at their destination surprised him. Fresh air, sunlight and other sentiences. It was easy to miss them. After over a month in that shuttle, even Earth had its appeal. It didn’t hurt that so far, the planet was not like how he remembered. The air felt… comfortable. Gone was the stinging heat and the acidic touch. His first lungful had carried with it the scent of grass. It had taken him a moment to place it, but he recognised it from the garden at school. Now it was everywhere, and endless sea of life.

And yet, just being on the planet was making his skin crawl. He had left, planning and hoping never to see it again. The stagnant throne of a degenerate kingdom. He shouldn’t have come back.

If Ruby Kell noticed him second guessing the trip, she didn’t say anything. Instead she led him from the shuttle and through the streets, jumping from one transport pod to another. They had no time to see the views except superficially - spaceport becoming city, city becoming wasteland, it all rushing passed them at many times the speed of sound. Navigation was impossible for his mere human senses.

They travelled. After crossing the furthest reaches of space, after working their way across a significant stretch of the galaxy for weeks, still they travelled, and in perfect silence. If the void between stars couldn’t motivate them to have more than the occasional conversation, skipping across mere continents could not. They passed the time the way they had gotten used to: dozing. Time skipped as he drifted back and forth from a light sleep to groggy consciousness.

***

“Welcome to MIST Labs, Ms Kell, Mr Jhanden,” the sai greeted them. Wilki was still feeling sore and tired, but standing on his own feet did feel… not good so much as refreshing. Sais, he noticed, hadn’t changed while he was away. Still bulky, still artificially autistic in a way no human ever was. Smart but lacking awareness, oblivious to the discomfort and tension before it. “This way, if you please.”

“That wont be necessary,” a voice called out from the corridors. Here in the lobby they couldn’t see into the heart of the complex at all thanks to the sheets of darkness draping the walls, a security measure that had the added benefit of deeply intimidating any guests. A figure emerged from the floating shadows, dressed in the distinctive uniform, suit and lab coat that adorned all officers in the Military Institute for Science and Technology. Deep, furious eyes sized them both up as he extended an arm in welcome. “Ms Kell, you have my thanks for completing this task. It can’t have been easy.”

She gave a small bow. “Thank you, Director.”

“As for you,” he said, turning to Wilki, his arm falling to his side as his head tilted back. “It’s good to see you.”

Wilki straightened up, despite himself. “Hello, Pollo.”

His oldest friend smiled at his discomfort. “Come. There is much to do.”

They were lead in silence into the catacombs of the building. Inside was dark and deep, a fortress populated by scientists. The corridors meandered aimlessly, pointlessly, designed, no doubt, to confuse and disorient. Like the lobby, nothing here had been built randomly. Wilki had to admit that it was working. He had no idea how to retrace his steps.

During the descent they encountered no one. Only the occasional whirl drifting almost inaudibly from behind the walls gave hints to the level of security scrutinising them. It gave a sense of life to a place smelling of sterility.

Eventually they stopped in front of a door. “This is where you’ll be working from,” Pollo told him. Ruby Kell, he noticed, was uncharacteristically silent. Perhaps she had been right all those weeks ago; maybe he would never understand her.

Behind the door was a bare room with the single entry. A computer adorned a steel desk in one corner, a simple cot on the opposite wall. “I don’t know what you expect me to accomplish from here,” he stated simply.

“You will investigate the disappearances of personnel from the lab,” the director replied. “The computer has all the data you need. I’ve swung it so you’ll have access to a lot of our records, some incredibly sensitive. I need not have to inform you of the importance of discretion once you leave here.”

“If I tell anyone about anything I see, you’ll kill me, yes I get it,” Wilki said, folding his arms. “But that doesn’t answer the question. In order to investigate, I need to go to the lab itself. You know this. You also know why those people have vanished, and you know that I know. So I ask again: what do you expect me to accomplish here?”

Pollo Smith gave him a long, hard stare. He could see his mind working as clearly as he could see his teeth clenching behind his tightly drawn lips. “You will find a way to stop it from happening. If you need anything, just ask the guards stationed outside your room. Ms Kell, follow me.” Ruby flashed him an apologetic shrug, the first expression of submission he had ever seen on her flawless frame, before she followed the director out of the room.

Sealed in a small room, alone. Again. Wilki knew that he had agreed to torture when he accepted the assignment, but his curiosity had compelled him. Now, face to face with a computer and access to some of MIST’s deepest secrets he just felt sick. The past, his past, was not something he had expected to chase him so far beyond the Domain’s borders. Let alone ensnare him like this.

He sighed. His mind was already at the threshold of boredom, his need for novelty and stimulation gnawing at his soul. Pretending it was by his own free will and not that of his captors, he powered up the computer and accessed the data file. He read for a few minutes before burying his head in his hands. It wasn’t that he was surprised, but he had to admit he was disappointed. This data confirmed what he would have guessed, but seeing the proof made it feel like he was drowning. And to think that Pollo of all people was involved…

With a flick of the wrist he closed the window. There was no way he could work on this, help to make it safe. He was neither capable of analysing such an ambitious project, nor, he had to admit, was he willing. But there were things he could do to make it right in his own eyes.

“You said you gave me some pretty high level access,” Wilki muttered under his breath. “Let’s just see how high we’re talking.”

He started pulling up files at random, sifting through the material with the highest classification. There was much of it he couldn’t access, but quite a lot of it must have been superficially related to the work he was supposed to be doing. He spent hours probing the limits of his assigned authority, pulling up dozens of reports, research papers, samples, everything he could find.

Then he started reading.

Ruby entered with a knock, once more with a bounce in her step. “Hi Wilki, how’s it going?”

He glared at her, sighing. “I need to talk to Pollo.”

“The director is busy,” she said, her voice as soft and enticing as it was when they had met, half way across the galaxy.

“I need to talk with him. Now.”

She nodded slowly. “Very well, I’ll go get him.”

Wilki retired to the cot, staring at the ceiling. Half an hour later Pollo entered. “Well?”

“You went to considerable expense bringing me here,” Wilki said. “You tied up a field agent and the most advanced Domain ship I’ve ever seen for months, just to bring me to Earth. And now that I’m here you stick me deep underground, with a puzzle to solve and more classified data than I could read in a lifetime. With armed guards outside, no less. So why bring me here just to place me under arrest?”

Pollo laughed. “Wilki, you always were so short sighted for a genius. You solve one tiny aspect of the problem, pat yourself on the back then walk away, content with your trivial accomplishment. But just like when we were younger, you can do better than this. Go ahead, solve the puzzle.”

Wilki frowned. “You don’t want me to be working on project. We both know I can’t make it safe.”

“We don’t want it to be safe. We just want it to work.”

“You say that, even after all that happened?”

“Don’t think I didn’t care about her, Wilki. Beth was my cousin. She might have been from a family of public servants, but she was still blood. This project, though, is bigger than us.”

He sat in silence for a moment, refusing to acknowledge the slow ripple of voices in his head was calling for vengeance. “I was out there, away from the clutches of the Domain, but you have brought me back. Out there I was no threat and of no concern. On the other hand, I am a potentially valuable resource. Who knows what I have seen out there, what allies and technologies and intelligence I could have gathered. So now the Domain wants what I know.”

“Your arrogance, Wilki, is astounding,” Pollo said, “though not entirely unfounded. But your theory has a hole in it.”

He nodded. “If the Domain wanted me, the Navy would have picked me up. There were in a much better position to snatch me than MIST was.”

“Which means…?”

“Which means… oh crap. Which means this isn’t a Domain mission.”

Pollo’s slow applause filled the room. “Correct, Wilki. The Human Domain is a lie. In a way it always has been, but in recent years, the strain of standing on our own two feet has made the lie more apparent. While the four main branches of the Domain are all essential and interdependent, the Temple, Navy, Public Service and MIST are being forced into increasing levels of competition. Rivalries are becoming hostilities. Which brings us to the most important question of my life.”

Wilki rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking the bait. Just ask the damn question.”

“What interest does the Temple have in you?”

Despite himself, he started coughing. “The Temple? The Domain Temple? Is that some sort of joke?”

“Hardly,” the director replied, shaking his head. “The Temple has invested considerable resources into tracking you down. They have found it difficult, as you can imagine. But when they heard about Siceltown they began to move. So did we. We were faster.”

He stood up, trying to suppress his frustration. “Listen to me,” he said, “there is nothing I have seen or done that is of interest to the Temple. The Navy, I could understand, as I could for MIST. But meeting new aliens and seeing technological marvels in action couldn’t…” He trailed off, scratching his chin.

Pollo raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“No… that’s a hell of a coincidence… and how would they even know…?”

“Wilki,” Pollo said, “what is it?”

He focused, looking his oldest friend square in the eye. “You have to take me to the project. I know, I know, you aren’t interested in making it safe and I still maintain I couldn’t… but that is where the answer might lie. My vantage point this time around would be much clearer…” He frowned, staring off into space before snapping his focus back. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take me there, now!”

Thirteen Years Earlier

The night sky was cool and bright, so different to the sky just a few months earlier. The karatice satellites heating the planet to their idea of a comfortable temperature had been obliterated, only to be replaced by the finest ships and weapons platforms the Navy could deploy. Wilki’s father had been right; humanity did not need their alien benefactors anymore. Earth could stand on her own.

Pollo sat beside him. It was nice out, the air a more palatable temperature, grass felt softer and springier, even the scent of flowers was lingering. Flowers, out in the open, braving the elements the same way people were, not hidden and sheltered and nurtured by patient, mechanical hands. It boggled the mind.

“Do you blame me?”

Wilki bit down his first response. It would have been very satisfying to say yes, whether it was true or not. If only for a moment, at least. “I don’t know who to blame,” he replied slowly, “maybe it’s my fault.”

“Maybe it is,” Pollo said. Wilki said nothing. The moment Beth had disappeared he had petitioned everyone for help. But he wasn’t the only one - the karatice retaliation had left thousands dead. One missing girl didn’t attract a lot of attention.

“You research was dangerous. The fact that Beth was allowed anywhere near it -“

“Research is what saved this planet, Wilki. Your father would be nothing more than solar wind if it weren’t for projects that armchair critics still call ‘reckless’. The karatice only attacked us because they saw us as the same grovelling primitives who first begged for their protection. If it weren’t for MIST, they’d have been right.”

Wilki shot him a glare in the backlit darkness. “Are you saying the end justifies the means? That Beth dying is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things?”

“No, Wilki, but everyone else is. Or at least, they’re thinking it. No one loved her like we loved her, so no one is going to help her but us.”

“Help her? Help her? She’d gone, Pollo. Your experiment killed her!”

Pollo nodded, slowly. “Probably. But we don’t know what is on the other side of the machine. If I secure you from this end you’ll be able to enter it and have a look around. Who knows, there’s always a chance the she is fine.”

Wilki bolted upright., “You expect me to -“

“Yes, I do, for three reasons. You love her. You love me. And you’re a soldier.”

He sighed, looking up at the fusion contrails lighting the sky. “I don’t think any of those are still true. Not any more.”

“Come on,” Pollo said, gripping his shoulder. “The lab’s this way.”

***

Getting inside was easy. Given they were at war, such critical projects were remarkably poorly defended. But then, Pollo had clearance and Wilki was the son of the great war hero. Nothing would be beyond them at that moment.

The machine was nothing impressive, such a series of interlocking cylinders framing a sort of cage. It looked more like a bizarre piece of art than the most advanced piece of stolen alien technology in the Domain. He checked over his suit, a pointless gesture that succeeding in distracting him from what lay ahead, if only for a second or two.

“Are you ready?” Pollo asked.

Wilki shook his head. “Don’t ask me that. Just do it.”

“Okay. You will see a bright light. You’ll need to step into it as quickly as possible.” He tapped a few buttons, breathing deeply. “Wilki,” he said, sweat beading on his brow, “good luck.”

The universe flashed white. Wilki stepped forward.

Present Day

“Are you sure about this?”

“Don’t ask me that. Just do it.”

The universe flashed white. He stepped forward.

Unknown

Darkness. Pressure. Heat.

Then nothing.

***

Wilki looked around, turning slowly. He remembered the sensation from last time, no matter how much he had tried to forget. It was vertigo, the inevitable reaction to falling yet not moving, to looking but not seeing. Whatever this place was, it was beyond the human brain’s ability to process it.

He heard a groan over the radio. Behind him was another suited figure, smaller than he was. A child, really. No, he corrected himself, a teen.

“Where am I?” the teen asked. Wilki glided over, an awkward movement that seemed to defy intuition. He grabbed the other suit by the shoulders, holding it steady.

“It’s okay,” he said, “it may feel weird but you’re perfectly safe.”

He looked up, then recoiled. “You… you’re all blurry.”

“You’re not,” Wilki replied. It was true, the figure before him was as solid and corporeal as anyone back in… reality. He looked down at his own body. It was clear and sharp, too.

“I’m Wilki, nice to meet you too,” the teen answered. He was facing the empty space to Wilki’s right, addressing thin air. But then, this place was disorientating.

“You’re looking for Beth,” Wilki told the teen.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” he replied, still not looking right at him. “A girl, my age, blonde hair. Name’s Beth. Beth Smith.”

Wilki sighed. “I’m sorry, Wilki, but she’s gone. You’ll never see her again.”

In that moment, his younger self locked eyes with him. Wilki could see, feel and remember his own heart breaking. “Oh,” he said simply.

He had spent half his life running from the normal, the stale, the predictable. He had vowed never to return to Earth. And yet now that he had, standing face to face with this teenager, he was experiencing something well beyond his ability to cope. He turned away, forgetting the twisted laws of inertial. The pseudo-reality spun violently, a twirling sea of speckled white, until he was able to stabilise himself.

With his younger self by his side he was facing outwards, peering into both their futures. A mass of shapes lay before them, events not yet made certain, probability and choice unable to crystallise into material forms. He saw a million versions of his older self, overlapping and interlocking, each shouting out to them. It was a cacophony of sound and light, the radio singing with a thousand voices.

He approached them, ignoring the shouted warnings of the young teen behind him. If he remembered correctly, it was around about now that he disappeared back to reality, confused and disappointed. He would flee to the stars before long, taking himself on a journey that spanned hundreds of star systems, encountering creatures and civilisations beyond imagining. Eventually he would return to Earth, re-enter the machine and come face to face, once more, with his own future. And he would see in them horrifying things, amazing things, dull things and terrifying things. But he would ignore them all, focusing instead on this one blurry projection before him. “You are why the Temple wants me.”

The response was heavily distorted, dozens of voices speaking over the top of each other. He concentrated on the loudest and the clearest. “You know the answer to that.”

Wilki pounded the button on his belt, feeling this tortured version of time and space bleed away from him. He remembered this process being excruciating, a strain on the body and mind. But if he believed what he had just seen, such pain was going to be the least of his problems.