Chapter X

A'Kuul came walking toward Ordin's tent a day later. Ziir and the others were there too, even the Nabaal pilot was hovering nearby. They had made it an increasingly popular tradition to have regular meetings at the commander's house. Niilan only came because he thought the others were plotting against him.

A'Kuul seemed happy somehow, which was remarkable considering how little emotion of any kind the man had ever displayed in all the time they'd known him. They knew at once that he had made progress of some kind. He had one of his metal number sheets rolled up under his left arm.

"What is it?" Creta asked, wondering what marvelous thing could possibly have made A'Kuul smile.

"I have just completed the fractal computation I've been working on for the past month, and I have discovered something very interesting."

He took a seat on an old crate that functioned as their bench. The crew listened like expectant children. "I have been thinking a lot about the relation between hyperspatial physics, and warps in time such as the one we appear to have encountered. Although I have not been able to find any way for us to control a hyperspace jump to return us to our own present, I have discovered an interesting possibility." He laid out the sheet, displaying a schematic of some kind, too complex for them to interpret.

"Yes, yes, what is it?"

"The beacon we set up on the ship, to act as a locator, nine hundred eleven days ago... It might be possible to reconfigure it to transmit messages."

Ordin thought for a moment. "What good will it do us to send messages?"

"No, not just normal transmissions... I mean, it may be possible to send messages back through time. I could calculate them within a very short radius of time, and allow us to send a transmission to the Ir Miilas before it docked with this ship."

"What good will that do us?" Creta asked, still not understanding the point of it.

A'Kuul struggled to find the words. Evidently, he was annoyed at their inability to comprehend.

Ziir sighed loudly and explained it for him. But his voice was dark and cold. "He is suggesting that we might send a message, warning ourselves not to dock. We would effectively erase this timeline... We would have never left our own century. We'd just finish the galactic map and return home, most likely."

Creta struggled in speech. "But... That's terrible! The hyperdrive here will never be fixed, all these people will be stuck out here. They'll never reach Kharak, if we do that!"

An evil voice came from behind her shoulder. "And of course, you would be very worried about that." It was Niilan... with the same hatred as before.

Creta scowled as hard as she could, and stood up. Before she could say anything, he interrupted her.

"Commander, I suggest we do it." he said, his voice strangely triumphant.

"What? Why?"

"It's all part of her plan, you see. She only came her to sabotage the prison ship's drive. If we never docked, she'd never have a chance to come aboard and do her mission!"

The paradoxes were making Ziir's head hurt.

"Commander, trust me! Send the message, and stop this madness, and save our people from this Taiidan agent!"

Creta closed her fist, hard.

"You're paranoid, Nabaal." Ordin said. "Look, it's understandable... The thick air is getting to all of us. Just go, get some res---"

"No!" Niilan shouted, suddenly, at the top of his lungs. "Ziir, you are of my Kiith. Surely you must understand! Come with me, and help me build the transmitter."

Ziir took a step back. "You're mad."

Niilan seemed to relax, for a moment. His head dropped down a little, his eyes closed, he gave the illusion of being calm. Just when everyone thought he was still, his hand shot into his pocket and returned, just as quickly, holding the cold, black shape of a pulse gun. He radiated an insane glare at Ordin, the barrel extending toward the commander. His sweaty finger seemed to be pressing on the trigger with a force so that the slightest twitch would fire the weapon. "She's gotten to you."

Everyone froze. Ziir held himself absolutely still, as if the man's finger was a frightened animal that would lash out at the slightest vibration. Ordin looked into the eyes of the madman, giving no impression that he was frightened. "Don't do this, Nabaal."

"Too late!" The man gave a battle cry and fired shots at the commander's chest. Luckily, Creta had reacted with adrenaline-infused reflexes, and had been able to grab Niilan's arm at the perfect moment.

Two shimmering balls of plasma whizzed by Ordin's left ear, searing a few hairs but doing no more damage.

After some struggle, Creta was able to pry the weapon from Niilan's damp fingers. He was startled at first, but quickly recovered. He dashed forward, jumped between Ordin and Ziir, grabbed A'Kuul's schematics, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him away from the tent, vanishing somewhere beyond the makeshift towns of cloth.

The commander removed the gun's power cartridge and crushed it under his foot. "I thought I ordered you all not to bring any weapons aboard."

"We used to think you were crazy."

The commander smirked. "We have to find him."