Captain Bartholomew Quasar: The Space-Time Displacement Conundrum Read online

  "United what?" snickered the fellow, and his cohorts chimed in.

  "You must forgive them, Captain," Lank called down the table. "The Earth that you remember is very different from the one they're familiar with."

  "Floating junkyard," one of the brawny women chortled.

  Quasar dropped his hands into his lap as they clenched into fists. It wouldn't do to lose his temper in front of these foul degenerates. "May I ask how you make your living here? There does not appear to be even a fraction of the advanced infrastructure that once made Carpethria the home of a proud race."

  "We make do," retorted the large pirate, looking away from Quasar with disinterest.

  "It could be argued that Zhan left both of our planets in a similar condition," the captain continued, focusing his gaze on Lank who was now engaged in a quiet conversation with Hank. Quasar raised his voice: "We have a common enemy."

  Lank's eye twitched as he looked at the captain. "How's that?"

  Quasar stood, sliding his chair back. "Zhan. He left Earth in ruin, obliterated every colony and outpost the UW had set up throughout our solar system, and then he came here. If what you say is true, that you are the last Carpethrian on this planet—"

  "One of the last." Lank clapped Hank on his shoulder. The very hairy helmsman did not react. He appeared to be holding himself in check as he often did in unfamiliar situations. "But now that my cousin has returned, Carpethrians will again make a name for themselves in this quadrant!"

  Servo returned bearing a platter of beverages in stone goblets, which Lank rose to wrest away. After handing Hank a drink and taking one for himself, Lank sent the platter sliding down the table toward his human crew.

  "To Hank." Their host raised his goblet and bared his fangs without a glance at Quasar, who took his cue and seated himself. "The better half of The Carpethrian Cousins!"

  "The Carpethrian Cousins!" echoed Lank's crew with goblets raised.

  The gargantuan pirate shoved the platter at Quasar, and the remaining two drinks spilled over onto his lap and Gruber's. The chief righted them quickly while Quasar seethed, imagining how a sudden brawl would turn out with the odds against them and all.

  "Or what do you think of The Cousins Carpethria?" Lank raised a very hairy eyebrow at Hank and chuckled deep down in his twin throats. "Never mind, we can discuss that later. For now, tell me, what have you been up to all these years? What wonders have you witnessed in the great depths of space?"

  "Isn't it obvious what's happening here?" Steve leaned on his oaken staff beside Captain Quasar and clucked his tongue. "You really need to get a handle on things before it's too late."

  Quasar pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Now was not the time to be caught talking to himself.

  "If you're not careful, Captain, they'll end up taking over your ship."

  Quasar glanced up at Steve with a frown.

  "Don't say I didn't warn you." With that, the wizard vanished.

  As the pirates entered into some sort of drinking game that involved punching one another in the shoulder with all their might while not spilling a single drop from their goblets, Gruber leaned toward the captain.

  "You think he might be trying to turn Hank against us, sir?" He nodded toward the end of the table where both Carpethrians seemed to be deep in conversation.

  "If that is his aim, he will not succeed." Quasar's jaw muscle twitched. He'd never had reason to doubt Hank's loyalty, and he didn't intend to start.

  But this Lank fellow and his crew of unsavory human mongrels were indeed cause for concern.

  Episode 65: Servo the Honest

  Captain Quasar excused himself midway through the meal—some sort of reconstituted protein made to resemble tender meat of an unrecognizable kind, although its flavor was lost on him.

  "Where do you think you're going?" the big pirate paused mid-chew, knife gripped in one hand, fork in the other.

  "I need to contact my ship." With a nod to their oblivious host who had attention for Hank and Hank alone, the captain turned on his heel and strode out of the dining hall. It didn't take him long to notice that he was being followed. "Oh. Hello there."

  Servo the robot stared at Quasar with a terrified expression frozen on its plasteel face. Apparently, its designers hadn't seen the need for eyelids, despite their cosmetic appeal. "Master Lank would prefer you remain in the dining hall, sir."

  "I just need to make a quick call."

  Servo remained rooted. "Your communication device will not function here. Not with the charger storm outside. You will need to wait until morning."

  Eyeing the artificial lifeform warily, Quasar activated his comm channel to the Effervescent Magnitude with a head jerk. "Number Wan?"

  Nothing. The device in his uniform's collar was nonfunctional.

  "You told me the truth."

  Servo nodded once. "I cannot tell a lie, sir. Social deception is not in my programming."

  Quasar raised an eyebrow with interest. He stepped closer to the automaton. "Tell me, then. This crew of Lank's—are there more of them elsewhere?"

  "Yes."

  "Where—how many?"

  Without skipping a beat, the robot replied, "Four are outside commandeering your transport pod, twelve are guarding the compound from marauders, and another twelve are in their quarters, preparing to relieve the guards for night watch."

  Quasar blinked. "Over thirty in total, then."

  "Yes."

  "All of them human?"

  "No, sir. Of the thirty-four members of Master Lank's crew, twenty-eight of them are human."

  "And the remaining six?"

  "Carpethrian, sir."

  Quasar clenched his jaw. All this talk from Lank about being the sole Carpethrian survivor on this planet—what other deceptions was he spewing into Hank's ear?

  "Tell me this, Servo." Quasar crossed his thick muscled arms and strummed his clean-shaven chin. "Does Master Lank really know how to find Zhan?"

  "Master Lank knows a purveyor of certain addictive delicacies, and it is this purveyor who has had dealings with Emperor Zhan."

  "And where might I find this purveyor? Is he on Carpethria?"

  "No, sir. The individual in question is not male—nor female, for that matter. The purveyor is a Hermo, and it conducts its business on Narvana 6."

  Of all the despicable nests of villainy in the quadrant, it had to be that one. Captain Quasar remembered it well, for it had been the Magnitude's first stop after surviving the Arachnoid attack during their first trip to Carpethria, after the cold fusion near-lightspeed reactor had been installed. Quasar had needed to drown his sorrows after the loss of his weapons officer, Lieutenant Davis—and Ensign Elliott too, of course. It was on Narvana 6 that he'd first heard rumors of that far-flung planet of mystery, Opsanus Tau Prime, and the magical elixir concocted by the non-temporal beings who called that plane of existence their home.

  Quasar hadn't known at the time that Narvana 6 was probably the most dangerous outpost for a hundred light-years in every direction; he'd been new to the whole space exploration thing, and it had been the first sign of civilization they'd encountered after outrunning the Arachnoid bounty hunters.

  He'd escaped Narvana 6 once with his life, and Quasar was not keen on the idea of returning. In fact, it was something he vowed he would never do. But if it meant locating Zhan, then it had to be done. And who was to say things on Narvana 6 hadn't changed for the better in five centuries?

  "What's it like there?" Quasar braced himself.

  Wide-eyed, Servo replied, "Oh sir, you will never witness a more debased form of society than Narvana 6. There is no semblance of law, unspoken or otherwise. Everyone acts on his or her or its desires at any given moment, resulting in both unspeakable pleasures and inconceivable pains—often simultaneously."

  "Right." So nothing had changed. "How often does your Master Lank visit?"

  "Oh, he would not think to frequent such a place, sir. He sends Markus as his em
issary."

  Quasar wagered a guess: "The large fellow."

  "Yes. He was born here on Carpethria, and thus Markus considers himself to be Carpethrian. As do all of Master Lank's crew. Their ancestors arrived from Earth during the Great Diaspora, when your people sought to escape Emperor Zhan's enslavement of the human race. Three thousand five hundred forty-two of their ships made it out of your solar system without being destroyed, and of those, seventy-eight reached Carpethria intact. Markus claims direct descent from the United World admiral who led her fleet to Carpethria without losing a single soul."

  "He's got some big shoes to fill," Quasar muttered.

  "Sir?"

  He paused before returning to the dining hall. "Just one more thing, Servo."

  "Anything, sir. I am programmed to serve my betters in any way I can."

  Half a smile tugged at the side of Quasar's face. He'd always been partial to robots, ever since he was a boy and had fallen in love with early twentieth century sci-fi cinema. "Does Master Lank intend to commandeer my vessel?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Ah." Quasar inhaled deeply. "Well, thank you for being so forthcoming." With a polite nod, he strode away.

  Until Servo's left hand launched from its wrist on a plasteel tentacle and gripped the captain's arm mercilessly, dragging him back.

  "It was my pleasure to answer all of your questions, Captain." Servo's right hand retracted into its arm, quickly replaced by a whirling serrated blade. "But now of course, I cannot allow you to live."

  Episode 66: Impending Battle

  Captain Quasar realized he hated robots with a passion, particularly this one with the whirling blade for a hand that it swung in an upward arc as if to disembowel him where he stood. The captain's reflexes, however, were too quick for the automaton, and he dodged the lethal strike with only a jagged cut across the chest of his uniform to show for it.

  "Release me!" he demanded, jerking against Servo's unyielding grip on his arm.

  "Please hold still, sir. This will all be over in a second." It paused. "Not for me, of course. For I will be tasked with cleaning up your entrails. Human blood is one of the more difficult stains to remove from fine carpets such as these. Master Lank does value his collections."

  Quasar dodged the blade's second strike. This time, it nearly severed the left sleeve of his uniform.

  "That does it." He'd hoped to bring resolution to this scuffle without damaging any of Lank's possessions—the Carpethrian was Hank's cousin, after all, and Quasar prided himself on being a polite houseguest—but enough was enough. His free hand went for his holster, and a split-second later, the muzzle of his Cody 52 was aimed between Servo's bulging eyes. "Unhand me, you glorified vacuum cleaner!"

  If the robot could have swallowed, it would have. "I suppose I should have disarmed you first," it conceded, releasing the captain's arm.

  "Live and learn, then. Now, how about you go find a closet and power down. Because if I see you again, I'm blowing a hole straight through your central processors."

  The automaton's hands reappeared, replacing its blade and grappler. "I do not believe so. Your weapon fires pulse rounds. The worst damage it can inflict is temporary—"

  Quasar pulled the trigger, and the flashing blue round struck Servo dead center. Shuddering in place and sparking out its ears, it froze stock-still after a couple of seconds with its artificial eyes rolled upward into its head. The captain nudged it with his pistol to make sure it was inactive. Then he holstered his weapon and tried to lift the robot to move it to a less conspicuous location. The only problem: the automaton was far too heavy even for a man as strong as he.

  Darting glances in every direction, his gaze lighted upon a throw rug, which he tossed over Servo's head—he would later wonder about the wisdom of such an action—and after adjusting his torn uniform and clearing his throat, the captain returned to the dining hall with all the dignity he was accustomed to mustering.

  "We need to leave now," he told Gruber through clenched teeth with what he hoped was a congenial smile.

  "Well now, take a look at you." Markus had locked eyes on him as soon as Quasar entered the hall. "Somebody must've gotten into a fight with a robot. And lost." He guffawed, and the other pirates joined in the mockery.

  "You should see the other guy." Quasar rested a hand on his holstered weapon. "Hank."

  The very hairy helmsman turned to regard the captain's torn uniform with a curious expression. "Yes, Captain?"

  "Time to go."

  Cousin Lank threw back his head in hearty laughter. "Captain, my captain, surely you jest. Where exactly do you plan on going? The chargers are out in full force tonight. You must wait until morning to return to your ship, as I've already told you."

  "You also told us that you are the last surviving Carpethrian on what's left of this planet. But that isn't quite the case, is it?"

  Lank narrowed his good eye as the smile dropped from his furry face. "Let me guess. You've been speaking with Servo." He shot a vicious glance at Markus who remained silent for the moment. Had it been the pirate's responsibility to keep Quasar at the dinner table? "That bot is confused much of the time, I'm afraid. I honestly don't know why I keep it around." He sighed, shaking his head. "Whatever it told you, rest assured—"

  "I'll rest aboard my own transport pod, thank you very much." Nodding to Gruber and Hank, Quasar stepped back from the table. "Unless that automaton was also correct about you commandeering our pod."

  Lank waved a shaggy hand in dismissal. "Only for repairs, Captain. You took some damage upon entry, if you recall." He bared his fangs at Hank in the semblance of a smile. "The least I could do for the last living member of my family."

  Gruber had joined the captain where he stood, but Hank dropped his gaze and did not move from where he sat.

  "I think you should finish your meal." Markus rose to tower over the table. His eyes burned with a fierceness Quasar had only seen in opponents during the heat of combat.

  But perhaps this situation wasn't much different. An intense conflict seemed about to erupt at any moment. Quasar stood on the brink, he knew. With only five rounds remaining in his Cody 52 and without knowing where Hank stood at the moment, Quasar sensed the odds were decidedly against acting out on his gut instincts. Yet he'd never been much of a fan of statistical improbabilities.

  "Thank you for your hospitality. You've been a gracious host." He took a few steps back, and Gruber did the same, atom rifle clutched in both hands but held at rest against his chest. Of course, he was sweating profusely; he too could smell impending battle in the air. "Hank, say goodbye to your cousin."

  Lank squinted up his eye. "Don't you want my help in locating Emperor Zhan, Captain? I thought that was your purpose in coming here in the first place."

  "Narvana 6."

  That's all the captain needed to say, for when he did, he saw by Lank's expression that Servo had indeed spoken the truth.

  "Seize them!" their Carpethrian host growled, gesturing to his only-too-eager-to-obey crew of miscreants.

  Episode 67: Fire Fight

  Captain Quasar fired a pulse round into the lighting element dangling from the arched ceiling, and instantly, the dining hall plunged into darkness. But the pirates had been quick to draw their weapons and take aim at where Quasar and Gruber stood, and they commenced firing. As soon as the lights had gone out, however, both the captain and his chief of security dove to the floor down opposite corridors. For now they'd found cover, but they would need to brave the open hall again if they intended to leave before the lights came back on.

  "Fool!" Markus bellowed with a hearty laugh. "Have you never heard of night vision optics? All of Master Lank's crew have augmented eyesight. There is nowhere you can hide!"

  To punctuate his proclamation, projectile rounds not unlike bullets from ancient Earth firearms punched into the corner of the wall, sending chips of a plaster-like substance down into Quasar's face. Sputtering, he retreated on hands and knees, noting ho
w these bullets glowed crimson through the darkness like demonic fireflies. Something else that set them apart was the way they hovered in midair before reaching the hall's exit and slowly veered left to head straight for him. Chief Gruber had experienced the same peculiar phenomenon on his side of the room. Unsettling, to say the least.

  "We need them alive," Lank growled. "The captain, anyway."

  "I can take out their legs," Markus said. At his word, the trajectory of the searing-hot rounds dipped by thirty degrees.

  "Lank—" Hank spoke up for the first time.

  "Not to worry, Cousin. I don't plan on hurting your friends—not permanently." He raised his voice, "If they lay down their weapons and return to their seats, that is."

  "Uh, Captain?" Gruber's voice came from the dark. "You're seeing this, right?"

  The projectile rounds hovered ten meters away from the captain, and there they remained for the moment. Quasar could only assume the ones directed at Gruber had done the same.

  "I'm sure you know what to do, Chief. Think outside of the box—widely so."

  "Do it, Markus," Lank snapped.

  In the same split-second that the glowing rounds hurtled at Quasar's legs with as much speed as if they'd just been fired, Gruber pulled the trigger on his atom rifle. Set for a widespread burst, the resultant energy blast took out every projectile and sent them hurtling in the opposite direction, along with everything else in their Carpethrian host's receiving area: furniture, decorations, carpets, even Servo the robot who remained inactive. Everything went flying against the far wall—most of it puncturing said wall. Unfortunately for Servo, whenever its systems came back online, it would find its head planted half a meter deep through the plaster.

  Silence held the moment, but it was only a moment. The pirates at the dinner table fired their weapons, each releasing the same glowing, heat-seeking projectiles. Gruber fired the atom rifle to send them back, many of which found alternate targets in the darkness as shrieks echoed from the dining room. For his part, Captain Quasar looked on with great satisfaction as every barrage of crimson bullets found itself beaten back by an explosion of blue wave energy. It was almost like watching a sky show when he'd been a very young lad.