Ocean in the Sea Read online

  “Utility service interfaces may be accessed and queried using standard Attistorial request protocols. Interference rectification extrapolation enabled. Initiating deletion. Expect temporal dislocation shock due to data compression. Beginning now.”

  The jump-timer expired. Raising the pistol he fired on the hazy orb. A white bolt of plasma energy streaked through it. No effect. Expected, but he’d wanted to know for certain. “Tell your masters I come for them!” he shouted. And he fucking would too. Sooner or later, they'd fall at his feet just like everything and everyone. It was a God thing. He didn't expect a machine to understand, but maybe it would carry the message.

  Triggering jump parameters, Heticus terminated Aimée-Marie’s heart rate and respiratory functions. The light of personality relocation routines rushed toward him, and he embraced them. May the next host be something worthy of his magnificence. But in the blackness of the jump, he felt something push against him, and as his awareness returned to the disembodied personality buffer, he sensed an unusual nature to the redirection.

  Heticus recoiled in rage. It was not the Attistar directing him, it was from outside! But there was no time to think, and no way to resist it. Spewed into the blindingly bright data connection stream, he felt the jump routine complete and opened his eyes.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Greeted by NSA operatives hand-picked by Arsus, Randuu floated through the Gemini capsule airlock onto Freedom-3 with an impatient and angry expression. The rocket launch had been delayed due to uncertainty. They’d missed their window. A coolant leak had cost hours to repair. Time-wise, everything had gone wrong. She could only hope that Arsus was still alive and waiting.

  “Get me in the bubble stat,” she snapped at the officers. “And launch a tender now!”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” replied a technician.

  They took her to the isolation bubble. It wasn’t far. A liquid filled tank contained in a clear plastic. If she’d had any issues with nudity it would have come up here, but she didn’t. Too many jumps. Too many exposures. She no longer cared who saw her naked. Their bodies were only temporary, borrowed shells.

  Connecting the breathing tubes and the IV feeds, she slipped through the outer seals and then into the warm saline solution. Locked in place, she floated in zero gravity, engaging her interface and listening to the wireless data connections around her. The sensations of physicality faded rapidly and with great relief on her part. Not that she disliked existing in a physical form or feeling its sensations, but she preferred the realism of non-corporeal existence. Here she could merge with the binary streams and let her mind integrate with their familiar language without the distraction of her body. This freed her to engage a process of communion she’d mastered hundreds of jumps earlier – using those portions of her host mind that typically dealt with sensory neural input to instead process and juggle digital sequential threads. Like a computer system, portions of her brain became registries and buffers, holding specific data prior to associations with active memories and neural superclusters. In the end, it was the imposition of algorithms she’d created and memorized, injecting them into the host’s neural network and using that mesh as a pre-processing unit for the ‘real’ Randuu in the Attistar’s personality registry. An interface to an interface to an interface.

  How far up did the encapsulation go? She often wondered that. Was she a puppet being run as she ran other puppets? A body in a tank further up filled with some alien entity, or perhaps she was in a program running in some dusty building devoid of all organic life because they’d digitized themselves for reasons she could never know? Of course, the probable reality was the most disturbing.

  Nothing was real. She and all others were simulations of simulations of simulations without end, and the shell game was infinite – turtles – not just all the way down, but all the way up as well. There were only the shells.

  Turtles without end.

  Achieving connection with Freedom-3’s mainframe, Randuu found her way into the tender’s flight computer. The station’s radar detected no trace of the ship, but that wasn’t surprising. The X-143 was stealth by design, and Jenny was onboard. She knew the drill. If the station’s radar had picked anything up, it would have been debris, therefor nothing was good.

  Activating the radio transmission array, she selected the appropriate Channel and the agreed-upon encryption, beaming a message to Arsus. She was roughly three hours late. The others, in particular Valruun and Shanzea, were still on their way. Perillia had just launched from Houston.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Floating inside the crew cabin of the X-423, Arsus, Lewis, Beloris, Senjiita, and Jenny, hovered in zero gravity over the corpse of Captain Q. Using cargo straps, they’d bound his arms and legs to the flight chair, just in case. Probably wouldn’t do any good, but Arsus felt it was worth the effort.

  “Alright,” said Herman. “Let me be the first to point out this is a stupid idea.”

  “Da,” agreed Beloris. “Recalibration still in progress. What keeps Tanandor from jumping out if he already has reset his jump-timer to zero?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” said Herman. “What stops him from using his interface – which could be fricken anything – from blowing the cabin and killing us? If his jump-timer is zero, then he’s got nothing to lose.”

  “Let’s wait for Randuu,” said Jenny. “We don’t have to rush.”

  Arsus pinched his lips. “I don’t disagree with you. This is a precaution. I’m not suggesting we try to force Tanandor into this body now. We’ll wait until we’re down to an hour of oxygen. It won’t matter then.”

  “Only matter to Senjiita,” said Beloris, reminding Arsus that Senjiita’s jump-timer had been recently reset. The big Russian stared out the Window. They were over South America. The recalibration was on the other side of the world. “Could contact Backdraft and ask about the spread,” he suggested. “Would be good to know if rate increase.”

  Arsus nodded. “I suppose we can break radio silence for that. Jenny, are we still being painted by radar?”

  “Not from the ground.” She squinted. “But I am getting beams from above us. Several different sources, actually. Satellites I suppose. The Germans and the Japanese both have orbital platforms.”

  The radio buzzed and Randuu’s voice came across in Paradisian. “Arsus, this is Randuu. Are you there?”

  Arsus sighed in relief and keyed his helmet mic, responding in the same language. “About time, Randuu. We have Senjiita. We also have a potential host for our would-be messiah. What’s the tender’s ETA?”

  “I can’t locate your position,” said Randuu. “Tell Jenny to quite bending the radar.”

  Jenny keyed her mic. “Can you see us now?”

  The radio crackled. “Not well, but enough for a calculation. At the tender’s max speed it’s about 73 minutes to you. Figure 15 minutes to dock, and another 73 back here. Do you have enough air?”

  Arsus checked the gauges. “Yes, with 22 minutes leeway.”

  The corpse of Captain Q opened its eyes. “Arsus,” he snarled.

  Arsus flew across the cabin and slammed into the rear hatch with a resounding clang. Senjiita and Beloris were next. Pushed against the ceiling, they bounced several times as if being shook by the jaws of a giant invisible pit bull. Senjiita was out cold, but Beloris clanged and crashed, bricking and unbricking with each impact.

  With a kick against the wall, Herman flew toward the Captain, reaching for his neck, but a pressure on his chest threw him back and held him fast against the bulkhead. Jenny flew by him in a blur, slamming her helmet hard against one of the communications consoles. Beloris rushed forward a few feet toward the Captain, and then flew back again with enough speed for his bricked body to dent the ceiling. Sparks flew from ruptured conduits and a hiss of escaping atmosphere sounded.

  “Heticus, NO!” barked Beloris. He hit again and bricked solid. “Heti” WHAM! “Heti” WHAM. “Don’t
” WHAM!

  “Ah.” Captain Q’s eyes glinted with an evil grin. “Hello Beloris.”

  Pulled forward, Beloris blinked and shouted. “Ship is in space!”

  Herman felt his head swimming from the pressure on his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move his arms or legs. Spots flickered at the corners of his vision. Heticus, the Nastarii who thought he was a God. He must have jumped into Captain Q’s body, but how? There were probably thousands of other bodies on earth right now. What were the fricken odds he’d end up in this one?

  The answer drifted through the growing darkness of his mind. What were the odds…?

  “Arsus?” Randuu’s voice called over the radio. “Arsus, are you there? Hello? Arsus, come in.” Static sounded on the radio… “Arsus, you’re venting gas. If you can hear me, activate remote piloting. Arsus…”

  The 7 Ps of Planning

  Jenny awoke to an alarm – a continuous beeping from the cockpit. It evoked a splitting headache. Captain Q’s growling from the other side of the crew cabin forced her memory back fast. She siphoned through the blur of images and quickly determined that something had thrown her across the cabin. Her helmet had saved her life.

  “Why are we in space?” she heard Captain Q demanding.

  Jenny kept still. A jumper – had to be – it was the only logical explanation. Not just any jumper either, one with a kinetic interface and a bad attitude. Only one person checked the right boxes, but how had Heticus jumped into the Captain’s body? It didn’t matter. They were all dead if he kept flinging things around and ruptured the hull. That’s what Heticus did. He was a flinger.

  Drifting in zero gravity, Jenny kept still and activated her interface, switching to the ultraviolet spectrum. There was plenty of it in the cabin, weak radiation coming through the hull, mostly gamma and x-ray. Sensing its interaction with the matter around her, she could see the interior without the need for eyes.

  Lewis still lived, but struggled to breath against a heavy pressure on his chest. Heticus had him shoved up against the ceiling. Arsus and Senjiita were unconscious, but their hearts were beating. Beloris was unharmed. Kinetics wouldn’t do much to him, but he made a wonderful projectile.

  “We are in space,” Beloris explained to Heticus, “because we have trapped Tanandor. And you are just in time to enjoy spoils. Da! Like pirates, we find treasure trove buried in abyss, and now we open chest.” His voice sounded upbeat, as if talking to a moron. “You are GOD who has given this to us, and so we share with you, as is your right! But if you destroy this vessel, then we are all jumped, and with timers reset, will be end of us.”

  At this news, Heticus grinned and looked from left and right. “Tanandor is here?! How have you trapped the false one?” He strained against the straps holding him to the acceleration chair. “Where is he?”

  “Hmph, well, not here yet. We were about to put him in your host, but since you have jumped into it, option is off table. But you ask HOW we do this. Da, is important. So I point you to Lewis Herman, up there on, uh… roof? Hard to tell with no gravity, but is ceiling, I am sure. Lewis has same blessing as Tanandor. Can force Tanandor out of buffer and into host.”

  The radio in Jenny’s helmet crackled again. “Arsus,” transmitted Randuu. “Come in Arsus. Dammit! Activate remote piloting. I can’t help you unless I can link with the ship’s computer.”

  Hearing the voice in his helmet speakers, Heticus snarled. “Randuu? You tried to kill me. Don’t think I won’t take a pound of your flesh, bitch.”

  “Heticus,” said Randuu. It was a cold unwelcome greeting dripping with disgust. “How did you… no, that doesn’t matter. The ship you’re on isn’t designed for space travel. It can only reach low orbit. That’s where you are. If you don’t activate remote piloting, I won’t be able to figure out where the breach is. There’s a tender on the way, but you need every gram of air you’ve got left, and you’re losing it.”

  Heticus focused on Beloris. “Untie me, and no tricks or I’ll spend my last seconds of life flinging your frozen ass at the sun.”

  Beloris drifted down and reached for the cargo straps.

  “My arms first,” Heticus emphasized.

  “Da,da,” Beloris rumbled. “Arms first.”

  Letting her vision go black, Jenny switched spectrums to magnetic and felt her way into the microphone until she found the tiny coil behind the plastic diaphragm. She wasn’t good enough to vibrate it in a waveform that would simulate a voice, but Randuu had insisted she learn Morse code as a primer for overcoming her binary aversion. Pulsing the magnet rapidly, she sent a message in dots and dashes. “Can help?”

  “What is that clicking?” Heticus stared at Beloris who shrugged.

  “Probably computer. Maybe solar static.” He freed Heticus’ right arm and moved to the left.

  Replying in Morse code, Randuu sent a message back to Jenny. “Have weapons?”

  Jenny clicked out her response. “Plasma pistols. Rifles. In rack.”

  “Lewis awake?”

  “Stuck on ceiling. Heticus holding him.”

  “Throw Lewis pistol.”

  “Heticus will intercept.”

  “Do it.”

  With both his hands free, Heticus rubbed his wrists and looked up at Lewis, releasing pressure on him. Lewis drifted forward and took a deep breath. As soon as he did, he was thrown back against the ceiling, although not quite as hard as before. Heticus eyed him from the chair, squinting as if he could obtain additional information by pinching his eyelids.

  “YOU,” snapped Heticus. “Lewis Herman, Tanandor’s newest godling from the last simulation. I had my spies watching you, human. I found your corpse with Tanandor’s when I ripped apart the Majutay building. But I am surprised. He blessed you with the power of chance?”

  Herman raised his eyebrows. “I was dead?”

  “You were jumped, fool. You were locked in a chair with your head in a brace. It must be how he transferred his power into you. What did he give you? WAS it CHANCE? His own interface?” Heticus clenched his jaw in disbelief. “Impossible.”

  Lewis Herman stared obstinately back with a look of pure insolence. “You want a demonstration? Who the Hell are you anyway?”

  “I am a GOD!” barked Heticus. “And I DO, in fact, want a demonstration, mortal-fuck.” Lowering his head, he gazed at Lewis from beneath a crumpled brow with a look of skepticism bordering on psychotic paranoia. “Prove to me you aren’t one of the insects,” he challenged. “Show me what Tanandor gave you. Are you a GOD or are you a simulant?”

  “Alright. Sure. What do you want? Dice rolls? Card tricks? A meteor shower?” Lewis glanced at Jenny. She floated freely, unmoving. He clenched his jaw, worried.

  “A meteor shower?” Heticus sat back and slowly grinned. “No. Not a shower, an asteroid. A big one. A world-killer. Can you do that? Summon a twelve mile wide rock that went undetected by the irrelevant peons infesting this simulated shit-hole and drop it over France, right into the recalibration. Yes.” He nodded. “Let us see how the Kron reacts.”

  “Nice idea. I’ll admit, I’m curious too.” Herman took a deep breath and readied himself. “What are the odds,” he stated. “That a twelve mile wide earth-crossing asteroid that every astronomer on earth completely missed is tumbling toward us right now? And what are the chances it will land in France, smack in the middle of the recalibration?”

  Before Herman could push, Jenny kicked off the floor and grabbed a plasma pistol from the weapons rack. She threw it at Lewis. It spun through the air in zero-g, wild, but well-aimed. Lewis noticed. Reflexively, he reached his arm forward to grasp the weapon, but it quickly zipped away, slapping hard into the palm of their enemy.

  “Really?” Heticus scoffed from behind the face of Captain Q. “I mean… really? That was pitiful. I feel insulted. You actually thought that would work? Do you even know what I’m capable of?” Moving the pistol, he angled the barrel toward Lewis. “The asteroid, victim. You’ve got 13 seconds to mater
ialize it before I AHHHHHH!”

  Sparks flared as the plasma pistol’s e-matrix rupture, releasing a significant stream of electrons into Captain Q’s hand. Negatively charged and seeking a ground to escape, the electrons marched in lockstep through his body like an army of rabid rock musicians prancing on the half-time field of a super bowl game. On their way, they beat their instruments to a glorious crescendo, climbing straight up Heticus’ arm, through his heart, and out into the chair. When the shorted e-matrix completed discharge, his hair smoked with the acrid stench of cheap gel and carbonized keratin.

  Herman shoved himself off the ceiling. “How’s that for a demonstration, asshole?” he hissed at Heticus.

  Beloris shoved his way to the floor. Grabbing hand-holds, he pulled himself into the cockpit and stared at the controls in dismay. “Where is remote pilot switch?” he shouted. “Get Arsus up her.”

  As Jenny crawled across the hand-holds toward Arsus, Herman launched himself at a medical kit mounted to one of the walls. Digging through the boxes he considered morphine, but didn’t know the dosage. He found a box marked ‘Ketamine – emergency use only.’ A slew of fine print ran down the side. He didn’t have time to read it, but found memories of the drug from a previous job of Lewis’s. It should do the trick. He took a pre-loaded syringe.

  “Arsus.” Jenny shook him. “Crap.” She looked toward Lewis. “Any smelling salts in there?”

  “Yeah.” He threw her a box.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Keeping this bastard out of our hair.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “He’s still alive?”

  “I wasn’t trying to kill him. Nice idea by the way, throwing him that pistol.” Herman stuck the needle into Captain Q’s jugular and depressed the plunger.

  “Thank Randuu.” Unwrapping the smelling salts, Jenny cracked a vial open and held it under Arsus’ nose. The Deputy Director coughed and jerked his head back. Over her helmet speakers she could hear Randuu trying to explain to Beloris where to find the remote piloting switch.