Mobius (9 page)

I went to the docking platform of the pod-ship, where I at last found Atticus on-hand to see me off.

“We’ve worked hard for this day, Atticus.”

“Nothing will be the same after you pass through the dimensional gateway.”

“Allienora and I were just talking about that.” I looked down on the ring of eighteen dimensional augmenters. “Humankind will see great change.”

“You have no idea, Theron,” uttered Atticus.

I found Atticus’ response a bit perplexing. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “You seem tense, my friend. When I return, we’ll calm your nerves with toasts of champagne.”

Atticus’ stomach growled. He clutched his abdomen with both hands, as if to contain any further volatility. “Excuse me.”

“Don’t be nervous. I’ll see you soon, Atticus.” I waved farewell to the hundreds of spectators sitting within the many observation rooms surrounding the chamber of the dimensional gateway. I heard their muted cheers from behind the glass windows. I boarded the pod-ship, and sat comfortably in the control chair. Looking through a porthole, I discovered Atticus had departed the docking platform.

Over my communication node came the voice of a technician: “We’ll be activating the dimensional gateway in exactly thirty minutes, Mr. Mobius.”

“Very well,” I replied. “My neural implant is interlinked with the pod-ship. I wait for your signal to descend into the dimensional gateway.”

With only thirty minutes until the dimensional gateway’s activation, Sensimion continued to search for anything out of the ordinary. His ocular device allowed him to see through walls and spy into every corner of the station. He saw Theron in the pod-ship, the many spectators sitting on the edges of their seats, and the engineers, scientists, and technicians carrying on with their duties. Nowhere did Sensimion detect, with his synthetic eyes, the sapphire-blue glow of the Fume’s manifestations, or any other exotic energy or unnatural dimension.

All seemed fine, until Sensimion scanned the personal apartments of the live-in staff. There, he saw something in the hollow space of a wall—the inactive figure of a man slumped into an awkward pile. Due to the angle of the man’s position, Sensimion couldn’t see his face.

Sensimion grabbed a plasma gun and headed to the apartment. He bypassed the lock on the front door with the access codes Theron had given him. Within, he noticed a wall panel slightly askew. He pulled it open and found the inactive man. Beside him sat a bizarre organic mass that Sensimion couldn’t classify. It was shaped like a giant egg. Its outer husk had the texture of charred flesh. A fracture ran up its length, allowing Sensimion a view of its insides. The husk was hollow, almost as if something had been hatched from within. Sensimion turned his attention to the incapacitated man. He was still alive.

Sensimion pulled him from the wall and laid him on his back. He recognized the man as Theron’s friend and colleague, Atticus. There was a metal device lodged in his nostrils. Sensimion delicately extracted it and Atticus showed signs of wakefulness. Sensimion helped the process along with stern words: “Open your eyes! Do you hear me, old man? Wake up!”

Atticus made inarticulate sounds until, at last, he spoke. “What’s that awful smell?”

“Never mind your smell,” said Sensimion. “Why have I found you unconscious in a wall?”

Atticus sat up from the floor. “I was at my desk, reviewing dimensional vector calculations for the maiden voyage, when I heard a thumping coming from inside the wall. When I removed the wall panel, I found myself face to face... with myself. A doppelgänger, if you will. I stood there in shock, until my double knocked me out.” Atticus stood up. “What day is it?”

“It’s the day of the maiden voyage,” said Sensimion.

“I’ve lost almost an entire day!”

“If that’s true, then this doppelgänger, as you call him, has been impersonating you all day.” Sensimion suddenly remembered that fifteen minutes ago he had spotted Atticus. He now realized it was his doppelgänger. He had been making adjustments to one of the dimensional augmenters. “The station’s in danger! Atticus, get to the control room and tell them to abort the maiden voyage. They must not activate the dimensional gateway. I’ll find your doppelgänger and stop him.”

Sensimion moved through the Brahman Station with speed. When he reached the expansive chamber of the dimensional gateway, he moved with a more deliberate gait, so not to startle the doppelgänger into desperate action.

He located Atticus’ doppelgänger and stood out of sight, trying to gain a general understanding of his meddling.

The doppelgänger stood at an open panel of one of the dimensional augmenters, giving him access to its inner workings. Sensimion watched on in secret as the doppelgänger performed a strange act—he placed his hands on his belly and began kneading the meat of it, as if adjusting its contents to his better comfort. He continued to work his belly thoughtfully, and then released a disgusting progression of belches that evolved into gagging. Immediately, something of substance began rising from the bowels of the doppelgänger. A significant bulge could be seen at his throat as the object traveled upward, until finally it came to rest in his mouth.

A rich yellow light spilled from the doppelgänger’s mouth as a glowing orb breached his lips. He snatched it from his mouth with a three-fingered grip and held it on fingertips, admiring its swirling, plasma-like nature.

Sensimion sensed it was a thing of force and leveled his weapon. “Move and you die!”

The doppelgänger turned. An evil expression spread across his face.

“Who are you?” asked Sensimion. “You’re not one of the Fume’s manifestations. You don’t emit the signature exotic energy.”

“When you speak of ‘the Fume,’ I assume you’re referring to my master.”

“And you’re his minion?”

“I’m his loyal servant, yes.”

“Why does your master wish to destroy the dimensional gateway?”

The doppelgänger chuckled, as if the question were humorous. “I doubt I can answer this question to your fullest satisfaction. You see, when my master created me, he gave me only the necessary thoughts and emotions required for my mission.”

“It seems you’ve failed him, since I’ve stopped your sabotage.”

“You’re late with your heroics. This is the last orb I must deposit within the eighteen dimensional augmenters.”

“Remain still,” commanded Sensimion, anticipating the doppelgänger’s desire to lunge toward the dimensional augmenter. In the short while the doppelgänger had been holding up the radiant orb, Sensimion had gained a small understanding of its power, for it exuded such acrid force that it caused bloody lesions to tear across the skin of the doppelgänger’s face and arms as it shined forth so brilliantly. “You don’t look well.”

“Since you force me to stand here, I must endure the effect of being so close to the orb.”

“Yet it’s been in your stomach for at least an entire day.”

“My master specifically designed my stomach to contain the powerful energy of the orbs.”

“You reveal too much!” said Sensimion triumphantly. “Now, swallow the orb! Unless you wish me to thrust it down your throat with the full extent of my arm.”

“My life has been short, but one of purpose,” proclaimed the doppelgänger. And as the doppelgänger’s mouth gaped wide in a toothy grin, he launched the orb with the flick of two fingers into the open hatch of the dimensional augmenter.

The doppelgänger’s sudden movement caused Sensimion to discharge his weapon, sending a plasma molecule toward the doppelgänger’s head, where it impacted in an explosion of face, brain, and skull. Atticus’ doppelgänger fell dead.

I waited patiently in the pod-ship, unaware of what was transpiring below me. I heard Atticus’ cries over the control room intercom: “Abort! Abort the maiden voyage! There’s a saboteur aboard the station! His disguise is amazing—he looks exactly like me! I don’t know how or why, but he has tampered with the dimensional gateway!”

“The station is safe,” said a technician. “We haven’t activated the dimensional gateway.”

I felt a chill up my spine. Sensimion’s concerns for the station’s safety were right. I spoke to Atticus over the intercom: “Where’s the saboteur now?”

“I’m uncertain,” replied Atticus. “Only ten minutes ago, a stranger with pale features and mesmerizing blue synthetic eyes rescued me from inside a wall, where I’ve been unconscious for almost an entire day, drugged by my doppelgänger. Even now, my savior’s trying to catch the saboteur.”

Just as Atticus began to elaborate on his encounter with his doppelgänger, the dimensional gateway came alive.

I heard Atticus yelling at a technician: “Are you deaf? Why have you activated the gateway?”

“I haven’t,” pleaded the technician. “It activated on its own.”

I looked down on the ring of dimensional augmenters and saw the formation of the dimensional fissure. Dancing facets of rich magenta and brilliant white light emanated from the center of the gateway, until a blinding light exploded outward, and then receded. The dimensional fissure, although now imperceptible, was fully formed.

I heard Atticus’ panicked voice: “This data is impossible. The dimensional augmenters are over-distorting the tertiary dimensions. Dimensional symmetry is chaotic.

“Shut it down!” I called, horror-struck as the dimensional augmenters made a hideous sound, like the sustained cry of a dying animal.

“I can’t,” replied Atticus.

I moved close to the communication node to ensure Atticus would hear me. “Shunt the power of the fusion reactors away from the dimensional augmenters.”

“I’ve already tried,” he replied. “Wait, I did it!”

But Atticus’ howl of success was premature, as one of the fusion reactors ruptured. A plume of superheated plasma curled up toward the pod-ship. It impacted with terrible force, disabling the gravity drive and causing an internal explosion, which sent a hail of molten shrapnel into my left arm.

“Fucking hell!” I screamed, as my arm burned.

The pod-ship was still attached to the docking platform by a single clamp—it dangled without power. The gravity wake of the dimensional fissure pulled the pod-ship downward. The docking clamp tore free and my pod-ship entered the dimensional fissure.

GODS

AND

MONSTERS

I woke up, barely able to see.
My vision was distorted. It felt like I was in bed. It was dark. I tried to clear my eyes but couldn’t. My right arm was a stump. It flailed back and forth.

“My arm! Where’s my arm?” Doubt and despair overwhelmed me. “Where am I!” I screamed. “Of course I know my name! I’m Cheung Po Tsai, son of a fisherman, captain of this vessel.”

No one responded.

I jumped from bed and crashed to the floor—my legs collapsed from my own weight. “What is this place? Where’s my crew?”

I stood frozen in a confused moment. Strange lights surrounded me. At last, I recognized the glow of computer consoles and medical equipment. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t a captain, or the son of a fisherman. I remembered now—the pod-ship, the explosion, the pain of molten shrapnel.

I lifted myself up and sat at the edge of the bed.
What’s wrong with me? I’m broken, fractured, flawed. Help me, God. Help me, anyone.

I repeated a mantra that helped me through such bouts: “I am Theron Mobius. I am myself. My mind is my center...”

I need my narcotic.

I pushed the memories of the pirate captain from my mind and cleared my eyes with my existing arm. I was in a hospital room. Nearby, a glass incubation cylinder contained a half-grown replacement arm. I continued to search the dim room for my amber narcotic. Someone was sitting at a table.

“You there!” I called. “Why do you sit in the dark? Where are my clothes, my personal effects?”

After no response, I called for the lights and discovered it was a computer-guided simulacrum, working on the construction of a rehabilitation mesh for my soon-to-be arm.

I found my vial of amber narcotic among the shredded remains of my flight suit. I fumbled impatiently to open it—my current one-armed condition made it hard. I administered a generous dose and my mind soon became clear.

Eager to learn the state of the Brahman Station, I made for the door, but found it locked from the outside. After pounding on it to no avail, I paced the room in frustration.

At last, the door unlocked and Allienora Chang entered. I was glad to see her.

“Why was I locked in this room? What happened to the Brahman Station?”

Allienora paused in a strange way. “There are many questions to be answered, Mr. Mobius.”

“How do you mean? What happened? I can’t remember anything after the explosion crippled my pod-ship.”

“After the explosion, your pod-ship successfully passed through the dimensional fissure and arrived at its chosen emergence point.”

“We did it! This is fantastic.”

“For you, yes. Unfortunately, the Brahman Station was soon after pulled into Jupiter’s atmosphere.”

“What are you saying?”

Allienora stood silent for a moment. “The Brahman Station was destroyed.”

I fell back on the hospital bed. “Survivors?”

“Only you and those aboard the rendezvous ship, which included me, Orsteen Hunn of the Mercury Miners, Morion Morpheme of the Mars Elitists, and a few others of your staff.”

With trembling fingers, I cradled the infinity spiral pendant that hung from my neck.

Now I’ve lost Atticus as well.

Allienora went to a view-panel and brought up four side-by-side video images. “This is the scene of the station after you passed through the dimensional fissure.”

I watched the four recordings of the Brahman Station as chaos ensued. People screamed, alarms buzzed, and the dimensional gateway made a deep, gut-wrenching noise as it headed for meltdown. Computers spoke calm warnings of imminent doom, while the crew darted about, making every last effort to silence the storm. I could barely watch as my life’s work crumbled before my very eyes.

I watched an external video of the station taken from a nearby ship.

Allienora explained, “The dimensional fissure created an unanticipated gravity wake.”

The Brahman Station was pulled closer and closer to Jupiter. In a hopeless tug-of-war, the station’s gravity drive screamed as it tried to counteract the gravity between Jupiter and the dimensional fissure. The Brahman Station moved with increasing velocity toward Jupiter and I heard Atticus on the recording send out a signal to abandon ship. Such an alert, however, came too late, and the station vanished into the brown and beige turbulence of Jupiter’s upper atmosphere.

The recordings ended and I stood silent. I lost everything—my life’s work, my friends and co-workers, and Atticus, the closest person to a father I’d ever known.

What is this cruel force working against me?
I could only painfully wonder.

Allienora seemed unusually cold. “Once your arm has been replaced, you’ll be brought before a panel of officials for an inquiry.”

“I don’t understand. Are you suggesting I’m somehow responsible for this?”

“Due to a case of blood poisoning from the shrapnel lodged in your now-amputated arm, you’ve been unconscious for a week. During this time, we’ve discovered that just before the sabotage, you invited a man named Sensimion aboard the Brahman Station and gave him the access codes to the entire facility. This man was the reported leader of a rogue group that has assassinated various members of Earth’s government.”

“Jesus Christ! Why would I help sabotage my life’s work? You’re wrong about Sensimion and his motives aboard the station.”

Allienora held up her hand. “Save your defense for the inquiry. Until then, you’ll remain in this room.”

I couldn’t believe what she was implying. “And where the fuck is this room, Madam Prime Minister?”

“We’re in a secret undersea military base just beyond the flooded ruins of Old New York City, off the coast of North America.” Allienora signaled to one of her personal guards, who had been watching on from just outside the doorway. “Get this man some clothes. We can’t have him in his underwear during the inquiry.”

After a week of being held like a prisoner, my replacement arm finally reached full maturity. After the surgery, I lay on my hospital bed, still drunk from the anesthesia. The simulacrum began fitting a rehabilitation mesh onto my new arm.

“Must you do this now?” I slurred.

It didn’t respond and continued its task while reciting instructions for the rehabilitation mesh. Midway through its instruction, the simulacrum became oddly still. Its eyes, which were filled with the murk of a thoughtless drone, became clear.

It looked at me with new spirit and spoke: “Theron Mobius, my time is brief, so listen carefully. As we speak, a fleet of one hundred and twelve Obelisks head for Earth.”

“Who are you?” I sat up on elbows. “What do you mean Obelisks?”

“They may be ships, they may be weapons, they may be something else. We’re uncertain. However, we believe the Fume controls them. It’s essential you get to these coordinates within four days.” The simulacrum repeated a set of numbers two times. “If you don’t, you’ll be damned with the rest of the Earth’s population to an unknown and possibly unfavorable fate.”

“I don’t know who you are, but I’m a prisoner in this place. I’m not going anywhere. They think I’m responsible for the destruction of the Brahman Station.”

“My leader, Sensimion, knew otherwise, as do I. Go to the underwater launching bay of this base. It should become active when they learn of the inbound Obelisks. One more thing...” The simulacrum reached under the hospital bed and revealed a hidden hypo-injector. It then grabbed me by the neck and injected me with its full dose.

“Motherfucker!” I screamed. “What the hell was that?”

“Trust no one save your eyes.”

Before I could further question the simulacrum about the glowing silver content of the hypo-injector, it stepped into its holding cistern. The nano-intelligent matter of the simulacrum deconstructed itself into its viscous pre-form.

I rested for another three days in the hospital room. Instead of finding revitalization, I grew ill. My arms were weak and heavy, my face was pale and ghostly, and my brain ached with the sensation of a hundred piercing needles.

What the hell was in that hypo-injector?

Despite my worsening condition, two guards escorted me to a room attended by twelve officials. All exuded a self-righteous air, suggesting they were diplomats and military personnel. They sat in a row at one side of a large smart table, across from a single lonely chair to which I was directed.

Of the twelve faces before me, I could only identify two—Allienora Chang and Defense Minister Renworth Vole, the gentleman I had met through simulacrum on the Brahman Station, only hours before its sabotage.

I took my seat and experienced an irksome sensation. It wasn’t related to the illness induced by the injection from Sensimion’s colleague, but rather it was a sensation somehow dreadfully familiar. I couldn’t remember when I had felt it before. It warped my mind in a terrifying way. The sensation flowed through me, and twisted in my stomach like a coiling serpent.

Before I could put my finger on the familiar sensation, Allienora began the inquiry. “We gather on this day to address your involvement, Theron Mobius, in the sabotage of the Brahman Station.”

I pounded my fist on the table. “Goddamn you all! I’ve lost everything from this tragedy. Why do you wish to further plunge me into this quagmire of misery? I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Mr. Mobius,” said Defense Minister Renworth Vole. “We’re not here to incriminate you for the events on the Brahman Station. We don’t believe you were directly responsible. Yet, we do believe you were deceived by this fellow, Sensimion, so he could gain access to the Brahman Station. From the recordings we have of the events, we’re certain Sensimion was behind the sabotage.”

“I’m confused,” I said. “If you have recordings of the events on the station, then you have the recording of Atticus crying out just before my pod-ship was damaged.”

“What are you referring to, Mr. Mobius?” asked one of Renworth Vole’s advisers.

“Just before the dimensional gateway was activated, Atticus spoke about his doppelgänger. There was someone aboard the station impersonating him. Atticus also indicated that Sensimion was trying to stop the saboteur.”