CROWELL

24 For all the talk these past two years about matter and antimatter, I had no way of knowing what it would be like to be in a universe that would gladly cancel out your entire existence. No human who had ever lived, or who was alive today, knew anything about it either. Except my dad, of course, who had lived much of his life within it.

Humans had lived their existence on a single world, in a galaxy that was an infinitesimal speck within an infinite expanse. Only recently had jump slots connected us to more—space.

Although many theories suggested the idea, the Ultras introduced us to more universe. Ultras had tried—and failed—to prove that matter and antimatter could coexist in our universe. They’d succeeded—at least for one person—in their own universe, even though the Ultras had no need for bodies on their turf.

So. The Ultras were dying. Our universe proved unsuitable for them, and the threat ended. It was my turn to be scared, now that the Exeter had left behind the buffer world of Rook and slipped past the complicated, Ultra-manipulated and physics-defying demarcation line. The ship sliced through antimatter space without difficulty, as if it were an ice breaker cutting through polar ice.

Vanderberg Parr gave a short lesson—as he understood it—on the science behind the Exeter’s special antimatter skin, going way beyond my ability to follow it. As for the journey itself through antimatter space, I saw no noticeable difference as I stared obsessively out the viewscreen. I’d secretly hoped for color spectrum shifts, psychedelic whorls, or other oddities, but antimatter and matter were identical in all ways, except for electrical charge, and I found space travel as boring here as in my own universe. I was surprised Parr looked so comfortable in his harness next to me, considering he was part Alan Brindos, who had despised space travel more than me.

I’d become used to Vanderberg Parr looking like Brindos. I guess distance, time, and old age made it a little easier to see him as someone else and not my long-lost friend. While Parr had most of Brindos’s memories and mannerisms, the Ultra part of him sometimes scared the hell out of me. Parr boasted a constant connection to his Ultra database, accessing at will with his special hybrid status. Sometimes Parr tuned out in the middle of a conversation, as if he’d turned himself off to recharge. It was . . . disconcerting.

A lot of shit had happened since I’d investigated the fall of Dorie’s copy off the Tempest Tower. I could even go back to when I solved TWT Vice President Brenden Thorne’s murder, helped by Brindos and my old Authority partner Shirley McCoy, when we first discovered the highly dangerous prototype of the drug RuBy. It seemed it would all end one way or another when this wild, insane search for my dad ended.

Old age meant having to recharge as often as Parr did. I grew tired quickly. Being bored took a lot of energy, I guess. Even after a good nap, I’d find myself nodding off while staring at the viewscreen or making conversation with Parr.

After one such cat nap, Parr laughed at me and asked if I was part Ultra, accessing my own database.

“I wish,” I grumbled. “If the Memors could give us jump slots to get from colony to colony, why don’t the Ultras have special alien powers or super science to get us from one spot to the other quickly?”

Parr flicked his eyes up and left, then right, pausing several seconds to consult his Ultrafied data. “They do, but nothing we can use.”

“Because of this ship?”

Parr frowned at me as if I were an imbecile child. “Because we have bodies.”

“Oh. Right.”

“It’s okay. They didn’t take your dad too far from Rook, in case their hybridizing experiments didn’t take. This trip may seem long traveling through regular space, but if you compare the relative short distance to the entirety of the Ultra universe, it’s more like a long walk.”

Boring, but also physically difficult for the elderly. I shifted uncomfortably in my harness. My back felt like the vertebrae had separated, and I kept hearing little pops and snaps when I stretched. If we didn’t get there soon, I might become a human accordion.

Living on the edge. I wondered if the thin skin of the Exeter’s antimatter hull would protect us the whole way. I wondered what the Ultra world would look like when we arrived. I wondered how the hell I was going to leave the ship and search for my dad, or if I would be quarantined on the Exeter and have to wait for him to come to me.

All that wondering used up what energy I had left, and I closed my eyes. Better to spend these boring hours asleep anyway. I held off a while, hoping Parr might announce the appearance of the Ultra world on the viewscreen, but he didn’t, and I, plenty tired of waiting, succumbed to sleep.

It might’ve been my second nap of the day, or my sixth. Hard to tell, really. All I knew was that I woke up, and I was not dead. Parr was awake, but unmoving, staring at the viewscreen. Was he aware I was awake? Would he be happy or disappointed that I was still alive?

“I’m happy you’re still alive,” Parr said.

“Damn it, are you a mind reader, too?”

“Pardon?”

I waved him off. “Never mind.” I looked more intently at the viewscreen. “Where are we?”

“Sensors and—” He pointed to his head “—my Ultra brain, indicate we’re approaching the Ultra world. Visual in a few minutes.”

Anticipation welled up inside (or it was the start of a heart attack), and I almost forgot to breathe (or a lung was collapsing). It wasn’t right of me, treating my old age as something I resented. No wonder old people became crochety in their later years and yelled at kids to get off their lawns.

We were nearly there, the place I’d long searched for. The low odds of ever finding my dad had suddenly turned in my favor. A universe away! I took a deep breath. What would I say to him? What would I ask of him? Perhaps he was happy here. Happy in the knowledge that his universe was intact, his son alive. Then I wondered how much he knew. Perhaps he was blind and ignorant of all that had happened on our end. I crossed my arms and stared at the viewscreen, waiting with anticipation.

And then I saw it. Tinged green, hazy clouds and fog obscuring most of its features. As it grew in the viewscreen, the immensity of it took my breath away. It hung in space like a picture, waiting for us to close in and click it on, as if it were a paused vid on flashpaper.

I took it all in, my eyes sweeping from pole to pole, and there didn’t seem to be any ice caps. I thought I detected the glittering of water, and the occasional flash in the clouds that could’ve been lightning. I saw the edge of a large moon orbiting, and I wondered if I was experiencing some type of moon illusion.

The Exeter crept closer. Next to me, Parr said something I couldn’t hear, but it sounded reverent.

“Does this world have a name?” I asked.

Parr shook his head, and he had that remote accessing-the-database look again. “What comes closest is a translation of a long, complex number. The Ultra worlds are numbered, and the number of worlds are near infinite.”

“The numbers for most worlds are literally too high to count.”

“Correct. Unless this happened to be world number one.”

“But it’s not.”

“No. I believe I can detect twenty-six numbers for this world.”

“Rook had a name.”

“Reiser named Rook because it was convenient for humans. And it’s in the buffer zone, so it’s not technically an Ultra world.”

“Well, regardless, this world needs a name.”

Parr extended his hand to me, palm up, indicating I should decide. “Anything besides Dad’s World.”

I gave a low chuckle. The name came to me quickly, and it felt immediately appropriate. A name that spoke about the world’s relative placement close to the buffer zone, and my dad’s ordeal as an Ultra guinea pig. “We’ll call it Pawn.”

Parr nodded knowingly. “That works.” He cocked his head toward the viewscreen. “Welcome to Pawn.”

Closer now, some of the green clouds gave way to some wispy greenish yellow features that might’ve been land masses.

“What happens now?” I asked.

Parr accessed for a moment, cross referencing something. His sudden scowl was so Brindos-like I had to look away. I couldn’t tell if Parr was more Brindos or the pre-hybridized Vanderberg. At least his potty mouth had cleaned up a little.

“We find out where to go. It’s a big place.”

“How do you know where?” As soon as I said it, I knew how stupid that was. Even now, Parr was accessing his Ultra parts.

“I have the coordinates,” he said. He leaned over the console and his fingers flew over the console. “I’m not sure you’ll like what happens next,” Parr said, “although it’s the simplest solution to getting—” He indicated the viewscreen again with a nod. “—down there.”

“Because if I leave the ship—”

“Not pretty. So we rely on an Ultra trick.”

I groaned. “Aw shit, don’t tell me. Not that. Not the glow thing.”

“Time for the Ten of Swords.”

I found the card in my pocket, but I left the Three of Swords alone. “You said this was a calling card. So the Ultras would know—”

“They’ll know, because it’s the only way you’ll get to them from here.”

“And glow.”

Parr nodded. “Hold it up, facing you.”

I did, and then Parr’s hand brightened. In a few seconds the fingers were wrapped in a white light.

I stared at him and fought back a feeling of despair. “Damn, I really hate glow. Do I have to?”

Parr reached his hand toward me. “Sleep,” he said.

And I did.