Mobius (21 page)

Morion grabbed Orsteen’s arm. “You’re synergistic implants are archaic by comparison.”

“That would be too far,” said Orsteen, touching one of his synergistic implants. “At what point does one question his humanity?”

I stopped in front of a series of archways, each five meters tall and half as wide. “These archways seem to be the method of transportation used by the aliens.”

At random moments, groups of aliens appeared below the archways and moved into the crowd. A parallel row of archways functioned as departure points, whisking away those who stepped within.

Allienora strayed toward a booth offering alien goods. Orsteen, Morion and I continued inspecting the archways with fascination.

My synthetic eyes became active. “Every time a traveler comes through an archway, my eyes detect a flash of blue light, indicating a dimensional disturbance. Their use of dimensional travel appears to be as ordinary as using a doorway.”

“I’ve found something!” said Allienora over our communicators. “Come quick!”

She was standing in front of a small booth. Within hung an array of masks—not unlike ones worn to a masquerade or mystical ceremony.

“Why did you call out, Allienora?”

She pointed to an arrangement of four masks. The first looked like my friend Atticus, the next like Sensimion, and another like Renworth Vole. The final mask looked exactly like me.

“What’s their purpose?” asked Orsteen. “What do your faces matter to them?”

“Could they be souvenirs of Earth’s conquest?” suggested Allienora.

Not far from the booth, a small alien with the features of a fat child wore the mask that portrayed Atticus. It capered about on two stumpy legs, flaunting its newly acquired mask to all who passed by. Two frog eyes peeked over the mask—the alien’s facial structure prevented it from looking through the human eyeholes.

“That little frog-faced fuck,” I said, repulsed by the spectacle. If my longtime friend Atticus was indeed dead—a sad thought becoming ever more likely—then to wear such a mask and dance around was a mocking of his life.

I restrained myself from striking the little creature. “We waste time among this freak show. It’s time to learn the fate of my friends.”

I took the lead towards the Brahman Station.

We mounted an alien escalator and were brought to a docking bay, where we entered the station. Within, we found aliens wandering around, as if the station was an exhibit.

We walked through the halls of the living quarters.

“I spent many years in this station,” I said. “Something’s not right.”

“How do you mean?” asked Allienora. “Everything looks the same to me.”

I pulled at my chin. “I can’t figure it out, but there’s something off-balance.”

The others acted indifferent to the surroundings, apparently unable to detect the strange air I described.

“It feels like I’m in a dream,” I said. “The walls seem to loom at a height larger than life. The doorways, panels, floor tiles, and windows seem more detailed and fancy.”

Morion impatiently gestured to the surrounding aliens. “It appears the crew and guests aren’t here. We should return to the
Fractal Skylark
.”

“Not yet!” I blurted. “We just got here. Let’s explore the dimensional gateway chamber and then the main control room on the upper level.”

“Very well,” said Allienora. “Let’s hurry.”

We came to a lift. I touched the control panel and nothing happened. It was broken. We continued down the hallway and then stopped short. There was a line of aliens waiting to board what appeared to be a floating cart similar to an amusement ride. Its destination was a make-shift hole in the wall.

“Things grow more bizarre by the moment,” commented Orsteen.

We moved closer to inspect. A group of aliens loaded into the cart, which then flew into the hole.

Morion peered curiously within. “It goes to the upper levels of the station.”

I stepped closer. “Since the lift’s broken, this appears to be our ride up. Orsteen and I will explore the upper levels. Allienora and Morion, the two of you should continue searching down here.”

An empty cart emerged from the hole, and a waiting group of aliens boarded it.

“Take hold of the back,” I said to Orsteen.

A groove on the back of the cart allowed us to get a foothold. Due to his size, Orsteen struggled to stay on. The cart took us on a route that transected the station through walls and floors, until finally we arrived in the dimensional gateway chamber.

We had found the crew! Or so it seemed for an instant. “This is unbelievable, Orsteen.”

I almost started laughing. Playing out before us was a theatrical re-creation of that day I held so painfully at the tip of my mind. The performers were human-like, but not at all human. They wore white uniforms, much like the ones that had been worn by the crew. They played the roles of technicians, preparing the station for the maiden voyage. They acted like mimes, moving with large gestures and exaggerated expressions.

To complement the theatrics, three aliens, removed from the performance, played music on elaborate instruments—a spiraled horn sounding from six outputs; a box of deep, thudding percussion; a device so complicated it could only be described by the high-pitched plucks, coos, and whines that filled the parts of harmony and rhythm.

Prompted by the music, a character jumped out from behind one of the eighteen dimensional augmenters. He moved with an enlarged, sneaking stride, which instantly translated his sinister motive to the audience. His stained face was a parody of Atticus. If this was an accurate re-creation of the events on that day, then this was Atticus’ doppelgänger.

A replica of a replica,
I thought.

The saboteur snuck past technicians and continued on his way to another dimensional augmenter. There, he proceeded to remove a small, yellow orb from his mouth. Suddenly, another character appeared. He played the part of Sensimion. His eyes were two brilliant blue spheres, and his face was stained to a haggardly effect. He approached the saboteur in a single bound, raised his hand in disapproval, and then mouthed something inaudible. The rendition was apparently a silent one. The saboteur spun around and hurled the glowing yellow orb into the dimensional augmenter.

Sensimion’s character discharged a plasma gun that shot confetti rather than plasma molecules. The saboteur promptly threw himself to the ground, where he underwent an exaggerated and comical death.

“This is all so confusing,” said Orsteen. “Why put on such a production?”

“For demented amusement,” I suggested.

The cart flew toward the main control room.

Orsteen shook his head. “We better leave now or we won’t make it back in time to escape.”

“All for the better, Orsteen. I’ve seen enough. Follow me.”

I jumped from the back of the cart and led Orsteen to an emergency passage, which took us down to the lower levels.

We quickly found Allienora and Morion.

Morion held up a hand in excitement. “We’ve discovered something!”

My heart beat faster. “What?”

“After the two of you left, Allienora and I continued our search. We decided to interlink with a data orb, so we could learn what happened to the station after it fell into Jupiter’s atmosphere. We found one and attempted to interlink with it, but it was nonfunctional like the lift. We then decided to extract a data-storage unit and take it with us, in hopes of later deciphering what happened.

“When we pulled back the panel below the data orb, it was empty—there was no data-storage unit, or, for that matter, any internal components. And it wasn’t as if they’d been removed, but as if those components had never been installed.” Morion held his breath, looking with anticipation to me and Orsteen.

I was in no mood for further drama. “Get to the point!”

“Don’t you see?” said Morion. “The station’s fake. Your initial impression of the station was accurate, Theron. This place is a flawed replica, with missing parts and inaccurate dimensions. Since this isn’t actually the Brahman Station, we can be certain the crew and passengers aren’t here.”

I took a moment to inspect the station more closely. “Why?”

“This is a question we can contemplate later,” said Orsteen. “The black hole weapon will be detonated soon, and we have a long journey back to the
Fractal Skylark
. Let’s go.”

I gave a final sad inspection of the station’s interior. “I find this whole situation beyond my comprehension. We’re birds trying to understand the ocean’s depths.”

We left the station and made our way through the crowd.

I looked around. “Let’s not fly until we reach the edge of the alien crowd.”

Allienora shook her head. “Our quest has only raised more questions. It’s unfortunate we didn’t discover the motive of these aliens and the Fume.”

“Unless,” said Morion, “their motive is the relief of mere boredom.”

“At least we’ve learned of our enemy’s nature,” said Orsteen.

“Nature?” Morion raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “What’s your impression of these aliens’ nature, Mr. Orsteen?”

Orsteen briefly thought over the question. “Well, for the most part, I don’t believe they’re all that different from us. They appear to find excitement in gambling. And as Theron and I saw, they enjoy music and theatrics—humor, drama, pathos, and all.” Orsteen pointed to a booth serving food, where an individual with an oversized head ate an oddly-colored meat. “They obviously indulge in their sense of taste, relishing food’s flavor.”

Morion held up a questioning finger. “How can you be sure that alien’s enjoying its food, and not merely satisfying its hunger?”

“Do you see the unused napkin in its left claw?” said Orsteen.

“Yes.”

“He decidedly licks his claw clean rather than use the napkin. He wishes to relish every last taste.” Orsteen lifted a hand high. “Apparently, the pursuit of pleasure is a constant throughout the universe.”

Morion slapped Orsteen on the back. “You’re more perceptive than I had previously thought, Mr. Orsteen. Maybe even the flair of a Mars Elitist.”

“I’m not stupid,” said Orsteen, raising his brow in an uncharacteristically arrogant manner. “I studied twenty Mercurial days with Master Fjiorn of the Prime Caverns. He’s Mercury’s greatest philosopher, scientist, sociologist, and ontologist.”

Morion gave Orsteen a respectful nod, and then asked my opinion.

“I agree with Orsteen to some extent,” I said. “They seem much like us. The fact that such fundamental traits as desire, greed, and gluttony can be seen between species of separate origins means a great deal in the scheme of convergent evolution, both mental and physical. It was possible we could’ve encountered beings so different in cognitive function that they could’ve been much like a colony of bees with no purpose but honey and stings.” I shook my head sadly. “We could’ve learned a great deal from these aliens. It’s tragic we’ve discovered them under such hostile circumstances.”

“Hold that thought,” said Allienora. “The three armored aliens are back.”

I saw them standing in the distance. “I doubt they’re here for the festivities.”

“We must fly!” declared Morion.

“No!” I exclaimed. “They may be detecting the use of our technology. I have an idea.”