Chapter VIII
The crew had been gathered around a small plasma torch in an uninhabited part of the central chamber, one night. It was a colder area, near the center of the place, where no one else liked to be because of the diminished oxygen content of the air. Ordin had needed a place to set up a meeting, and this seemed to be the best place available.
There had really been no need for anything resembling a normal meeting, for there was nothing happening anywhere in their small universe that was worth talking about after so long. But the commander had called it anyway, just to keep his crew together, in hopes of boosting what little morale remained, and checking to make sure they hadn't gone mad in the past six months since he'd seen them.
Creta, at least, found the meeting reassuring. Again, she had a link to the past, to convince her that this strange world was not the only one she'd ever known. In a way, the meeting helped all of them, by giving them something with which to remember the future.
When five minutes had passed and all small-talk had been exhausted, they turned to the one thing that would never run out: speculation. Ziir began this by restating the theory on flat-space and how it could have made time-travel possible.
"Fascinating..." A'Kuul said. His head twitched slightly, and the others knew that he was thinking all the variables out. "I do not know much about hyperspatial mechanics in relation to gravity forces, curved space... I do not believe it has been studied extensively, at least not by Hiigaran engineers."
"We all assumed that flat, empty space would act just the same for hyperspace as anything else. If anything, we assumed it would work better." Ziir recalled his work studying and reverse-engineering hyperspace modules following landfall. He and thousands of other scientists had been the first to make Hiigaran hyperspace drives meet galactic standards of reliability, efficiency, safety and power output.
"I suppose... If the space out here were absolutely "flat", then a hyperspace jump as powerful as the one made by the Ir Miilas might potentially cause a... Wormhole of some kind. Maybe... It still doesn't make any mathematical sense. I wouldn't recommend relying on such conjecture."
"Like we're ever going to have a chance..." Paktu said, from the corner of his mouth. Ordin glared at him, and the engineer quieted himself.
Ziir rubbed his chin. "Flat space might be especially susceptible to spatial distortion, but not that much. Really, I doubt it could have caused this."
"Maybe it was that Bentusi drive." Creta said, remembering the singing walls. "That thing was weird."
Ziir smirked, then shrugged.
As the night grew later, colder, and descended into almost pitch black darkness, the meeting died away. Ziir and A'Kuul wandered away to do calculations on one theory or another, the others fell asleep during the later, more mathematical conversations. The air had become thicker, without the fans to carry their breath away.
Even the light from the plasma torch had now died down to a low glow. All that could have been visible to any waking person were the red-lit edges of the four dormant beings as they slept in a circle around the faint orb of light.
Nothing moved for a long time, until a sudden movement shattered the void.
Creta stirred slowly to life. Her vision was cloudy, but she could make out the familiar shape of the Nabaal pilot. The man sat up instantly, as if caught by a seizure. His face, reflecting in the dim crimson glow, was damp with sweat, and twisted into a look of utter horror and rage.
She leaned upward, about to ask him what was wrong, but before she could open her mouth, Niilan had turned his bulging glare directly upon her. His hand shot out like a striking snake and pointed at her. In his eye was the most terrible malice and contempt she had ever seen.
"It was you!"
Ordin stirred into partial consciousness. He looked up, questioningly. "What?"
"You brought us here! You sabotaged the drive on the Ir Miilas, you brought the ship back in time on purpose!"
"What? Why would I do that?" Creta was shaken by his rage, she could feel it like a searing hot wind on her face.
"It's your plot! You brought us back in time, to this prison ship, so you could make sure it never reaches Kharak, so all the refugees die, and it changes the timeline so that the Kushan never build the mothership, and then Hiigara is never retaken! She's a spy! Servant of the empire! Taiidan!"
These words that seemed so heated and volatile, flying from the man's mouth like so many weapons, seemed so powerful. But the response that it triggered in the target came with far more force. Quickly, Creta leapt to her feet and looked down at the man, her eyes blazing like ion beams.
"Fool! How very little you understand!"
The sound of her voice was so loud that it froze the fire in the man's eyes. All had fallen silent. Creta's fury exploded again, seeming to exert a real force.
"I'm as Hiigaran as you. I've got seven generations of family going back on your precious homeworld! I lived there all my life, and it was my home, until you came there with your glorious war of liberation and took it all away from me, forever. I hated the old empire, maybe as much as you... And now you come to me and accuse me of personally burning Kharak, just because I am a Taiidan!"
Niilan was shaken, but only temporarily. Behind his startled face, his madness remained constant. He stepped backward and vanished into the darkness, with that look of hatred still in his eyes. His movements were slow, as if to say that he'd be back.
Creta sank down onto the rag she had been sleeping under, feeling light-headed.
Ordin looked at her from time to time, hesitantly, unable to find his voice. He came close to speech, but stopped, looked back, put his head back down and simply stared into the black ceiling. Creta heard him sigh, and then all was quiet.
The plasma torch died into nothingness.