“Let it not be said that I don’t pay my debts.” Orson’s voice rang through the speakers, the message audio-only. “If we cross paths again, I will try to catch you. Orson out.”
Mellok stroked the feathers under his chin. “Awfully nice of him, but without supplies, we might as well be dead anyway. All this time searching for the knower for it to end like this. Seems the universe is out to get me.”
“Maybe not.” Brekt had unclipped his belts and was climbing out of his chair. “You didn’t see what I saw, our knower has a knack. Come here, Michael.” Brekt gestured to the seat he had just vacated. He pressed a button on the console, and a list of strange alien text appeared on the screen. “Take a seat.”
Michael had freed himself and slid nervously into Brekt’s former position. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. My knack was that video game, not whatever this is.”
“This is a list of every star system we might have enough fuel to get to. This region of space is largely unexplored or uncharted. So, it’s a total guess if we end up somewhere useful.”
“Oh,” Michael said, “I don’t like where this is going.”
“It’s just like the game,” Brekt said, tapping Michael on the shoulder. “Just take your pick, when you know, you know, eh?”
Chapter Fourteen
The shutters clattered as they rolled down the glass, blocking out the strange dimension beyond. The nausea began to fade immediately, whatever strange effect the pulsating colours had being screened by the now complete metal cover. It wasn’t as bad as the first time Michael found, the unsettling feeling lessened, the buzzing in his head quieter. He looked down at the console, his finger still pressed to its buttons, his choice locked in. Strange glyphs were displayed on the hologram before him, flicking constantly between configurations. Michael assumed it was a timer or an indicator of distance.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “Where are we going? What did I choose?”
“Not a clue,” Brekt said. The muscled green alien was still stood behind Michael’s shoulder, peering over at the panel. “Says the target system is uncharted.”
“That’s bad right?”
“Not necessarily, uncharted doesn’t mean uninhabited,” Mellok said, leaning his beaked head over the drop between floors. “The galaxy is a big place, knower. Council space takes up less than five per cent and contains nearly two billion recognised planets, of those, five hundred million are capable of supporting life naturally.”
“Wait, the Council has billions of planets? Billions? That’s insane.”
Mellok shrugged, his feathers rustling as he did. “And yet in the grand scheme of things, it is a tiny fraction. Almost inconsequential. This is also why Earth is so special, in all the planets in the galaxy, in all those untold billions, it is the only one to orbit in that specific rhythm. In the Rhythm.” Mellok stepped onto the ramp, his multiple legs chittering on the metal as he walked to the lower tier. “I am grateful to have found you, knower. The others of my order were… dismissive. Even after the Earth was found, I was still searching for a single person out of billions. A spec of dust in a stellar cloud.”
“Yeah, about that.” Michael tried to spin around in the chair, only to wobbly awkwardly as it locked. The chairs had a limited range of motion, a necessary compromise for their shock-absorbing function. Michael stepped over the edge, his leg swinging out more than necessary. “How did you find me? Out of all the people on Earth why me?”
“I simply followed the scrolls. They described you in startling detail. A human male, pale of complexion, dispensing truth to the masses.”
“I mean, that could be one of literally millions of humans. What does dispensing truth to the masses even mean? I’m a tour guide, you want someone a bit more, uh high up on society, I guess? A politician, or a professor. Christ even a preacher or something.” Michael had raised his voice subconsciously, his arms gesticulating wildly.
“No, no, those people are dispensing opinion. Not the truth. No, you are the one. You give out indisputable facts, without any personal judgment or opinion clouding it. Pure, unfiltered truth.” Mellok shook himself for a moment, his feathers shimmering briefly another colour. Somehow Michael knew it was a display of happiness, the Cortican equivalent of a smile, its meaning slipping through the psychic link into his mind.
“I mean, those are just given to me before-hand, it’s a script. I don’t know shit. Hell, I’ve only been doing it a few months!”
“And before that what did you do?”
“Oh, I uh, I did museum tours,”
“And before that?”
“I worked as a library assistant, helping people find books or look up facts.”
“So, dispensing more indisputable truths?” Mellok’s feathers shone a vivid green for a brief second. “And before that?”
“I was a greeter at a supermarket. Look, I’m not sure what your point is. A bunch of shitty jobs doesn’t make me a messiah.”
“Well, I disagree, obviously,” Mellok said.
“That isn’t how this works!” Michael swung his arm out as he spoke. There was a loud ripping noise as his jacket caught on a bolt atop the chair he was stood next too. The seam under the arm split as it was pulled, the cheap uniform finally giving out. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Wait, I’m confused,” Kestok said adjusting his cap. “Are you the knower or not? You wouldn’t shut up about it in our match.”
Aileena snorted, a laugh escaping from her throat. “He never shuts up about anything.”
Michael shot her a glance as he removed his now torn jacket. He unclipped the magnetic tag and slipped it into his trouser pocket. “That was playing up for the crowd you know? I had to do something. Sometimes talking a big game is more important than actually doing well. Or at least, that’s what a lifetime of people screaming at me in Call of Duty has taught me.” Michael looked around him at the assembled confused faces. He made a mental note to avoid too many pop-culture references. “Never mind. Know your audience, Mike.”
The ship shuddered for a moment, letting out a low groan. Aileena tapped her finger on a round circular gauge on the console. She stared it at a for a few seconds before muttering something under her breath. She hit the gauge again, harder this time, the blow echoing around the control room.
“Uh, Kestok was it? You want to maybe get down to the engine room and try that engineering wizardry? We are running on fumes. I’m not sure we’ll make it out of the jump tunnel.”
Kestok didn’t reply, simply leaping from his seat and disappearing out the door. Meggok stood up as he left.
“I’ll go get us a room, shall I? In case we survive?” He stepped through the door, having to turn his chest to squeeze through, his meaty shoulders too thick for the doorway.
“If we survive?” Michael asked, his voice a nervous squeak.
“Uh-huh,” Aileena said, her focus on the console. She was switching off functions, desperate to save power. “The engines create a tunnel between two points, then ‘jumps’ us into the route its created. That route isn’t a direct course, it’s well…” Aileena pressed a button and a hologram depicting the galaxy flashed into being. Their start and endpoints were highlighted and appeared to be virtually touching. Through the hologram was a long snaking red line, looping around on itself, twisting and turning, tangled worse than a set of headphones left in a pocket. “We need fuel to run the generators to keep the effects of the sub-reality out. I’m sure you can feel the sickness, the buzzing?”
“Yeah, yeah I can.”
“Well, without the field the ship is currently projecting, you’ll turn inside out.”
“Is… is that a metaphor?” Michael asked.