The fierce light finally fades to the point where she can see. She peeks out from beneath wary eyelids. Debris floats everywhere, bits of metal, melted plastic, and torn cloth. It’s not enough material to account for a whole ship but it gives a distinct impression of catastrophe. How many crewmembers survived the chaotic, last-minute leap into what Aussik called the lifeboat remains uncertain.

  Aussik jumped after her. She saw him. She only heard Onner. Maybe Beets too. Captain Zeeno not at all. Now she can’t find any of them, not in any direction.

  There is no shape to this place. The brightness continues to diminish but no walls appear. It feels like a cloud. It might be a bubble, but it has no view outside—to space or the sparkling, cliff-like boundary. They should have never stopped.

  She ducks as a larger chunk of debris flies past her head, but it’s hard to do much more than twist in place. She’s floating in zero-g with nothing to push off from. Even if she could move from this position, which direction would she go? It looks the same everywhere.

  She scans her body for injuries. A red, three-inch scratch crosses her arm. It isn’t deep. She’s not sure if coagulated blood proves there’s oxygen in the air, but she’s not dead yet so there must be something to breathe. No broken bones. Strangely, her skin isn’t burnt or peeling.

  She’s lucky. Others may not have been.

  ********************

  Nala drifts, accompanied only by the memory of how she’d gotten here. The horror story plays over and over in her mind. She’s been here for eight, maybe ten hours. Nobody wears watches anymore and her mobile phone is back on the ship. Or melted.

  Another hour passes. Maybe two. Her memory isn’t lying, her friends were here, but now they are gone. Somewhere else, dead, or dying.

  She closes her eyes as tears well up. She slams fists against her hips and screams. “Jesus, why them? It’s not fucking fair!” Her heart thumps, easily heard in the soundless environment. She hangs her head and weeps for her brave and talented companions. She weeps for herself. She is far from home, at a remote place no one would ever think to look.

  From here, and into whatever future might be left, she’ll be alone. Alone with no water. No food. The breathable air that has been trapped inside this dimensional aberration won’t last long either. Another blast of intense energy would be a cleaner way to end this.

  She should never have taken the Chitzas’ offer. She screwed up, big time.

  Daniel’s going to be so pissed at me.

  6

  Arrival

  “It’s a pyramid scheme, of sorts,” Daniel said. “String theory claims ten dimensions of space, seven of which are curled into quantum sizes. We’ve learned how to uncurl one quantum dimension, which in turn compresses ordinary space in a chosen direction. Uncurl another and you get exponential compression? It makes sense, I guess, but why stop there? Just keep uncurling all seven. Where would that take you?”

  “Anywhere you wish to go,” Professor Alosoni-eff said.

  Daniel attempted to shake the cobwebs of neglected hyperdimensional physics from his head. Adding a brand-new direction that no one could point to had always been a bizarre reality of Nala’s work in particle physics. But now there were two new directions? Maybe more? Daniel tried to imagine a graph where five axes spread out from a single origin creating five simultaneous and distinct right angles. He failed magnificently.

  The bicycle gear analogy was easier on the brain. “Theoretically you could uncurl more dimensions to trigger—let’s call it, a supercompression of 3-D space. So much compression, you manage to get beyond the cosmic horizon. So, what’s out there?” Scientists rarely ventured into speculative areas beyond friendly banter at the local pub on a Saturday night. Maybe that was about to change.

  Alosoni-eff settled into his oversized chair. “What is beyond the ocean’s horizon? More ocean. Our universe is the same, isotropic. On a large scale, one patch of the universe looks the same as any other. This tells us with some certainty that a peek beyond the horizon would reveal more galaxies. More galaxy clusters. More gas, dust, nebulae. More planets and perhaps more civilizations. These remote places have enjoyed the same 13.8 billion years to evolve, just as we have. We cannot see them, but lack of visibility does not make them any less real. Supercompress space, as the Chitzas may be doing, and you could eventually reach such remote places.”

  “Except that you’re trying to catch up to space that is expanding faster than the speed of light,” Daniel added. He was back to the Hubble discovery that space itself continues to expand. Natural expansion might not be a big deal when jumping a few thousand light-years, but a billion was another story.

  “Remember, the expansion rate is relative to our current position,” Alosoni-eff said. “A person standing on a planet located at our cosmic horizon would say that it is we who are rushing away from them at the speed of light. They would see the Milky Way at their cosmic horizon with no knowledge of what might be beyond.”

  “So, it’s all relative.” Daniel spat out the words he had always despised. It was a meaningless phrase, casually tossed out by those with a passing acquaintance of physics. In this case, he wasn’t even buying its premise.

  “Saying that a measurement is relative makes sense for velocity, time, even length. But not for matter. The Big Bang produced a finite amount of matter and energy. It’s a big number, but it’s measurable, and anyone anywhere in the universe would agree on the result. A finite Big Bang implies a finite amount of expanding space. There’s an absolute limit out there somewhere, right?”

  Alosoni-eff shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Some suggest a higher dimensional boundary much as an expanding sphere has both an inside and outside. Others suggest a torus shape where space eventually wraps back on itself. Both are finite cosmologies derived from a finite Big Bang. Unfortunately, since we cannot see or measure beyond the horizon, no one knows which might be correct.”

  “Except perhaps the Chitzas.”

  The professor gently nodded.

  A low tone sounded, and Theesah-ma spoke to the electronic sphere floating at her shoulder. A small window popped up in the air next to it.

  “How interesting,” she said. “Another Chitza scout ship has arrived. It has landed here on Litia.”

  “Your Operations Commander contacted them?” Daniel asked.

  “Apparently so. The Chitzas are asking for you.”

  “Me?”

  “You.”

  Alosoni-eff rose from his chair and addressed Daniel. “There is only one reason for the Chitzas to send a ship. Will you go with them?”

  The professor might be right. The Chitzas had lured his wife to join a groundbreaking but dangerous mission. They might be feeling guilty. Or responsible. If hitching a ride on a second scout ship helped find Nala, Daniel wouldn’t hesitate. He glanced at Theesah-ma who nodded without comment.

  “Take my assistant with you.” Alosoni-eff ran a suckered hand down the leaf’s edge. “Ets-tah is a fully qualified cosmologist and could provide insight you may need.”

  Daniel wasn’t sure what to say. No doubt the leaf could be useful for a voyage driven by Chitza-sized ambitions. Chitzas were known for their brash nature and snap decisions, not their thoughtful science. But Daniel detected a close relationship between Alosoni-eff and his assistant.

  “It’s a generous offer, but what if this ship is heading into the same danger? I couldn’t put that kind of risk on your valued assistant.”

  “I will go,” the leaf said.

  The professor bowed to his assistant. “Then it is decided. Ets-tah requires no nourishment, gravity, or even air. Quite a suitable companion for a long trip on a Chitza wedge.”

  Notwithstanding the leaf’s resilience, Daniel had his own requirements to think about. He could get by without gravity, but a long voyage on any spacecraft would need to provide basic life support. Somehow, Nala had managed it.

  Theesah-ma wrapped an arm around Daniel. “Come lovely Daniel, I will take you to the spaceport.” She reached out. The leaf hopped from the professor’s desk onto her hand.

  The professor gave one last stroke to the tiny leaf. “You will come back to me, won’t you dear fellow?”

  The leaf vibrated not unlike a cat’s purr.

  “Thank you, professor,” Daniel said. “I’ll make sure…” He was about to say something reassuring, but safe passage couldn’t be guaranteed for anyone, himself included. Instead, he lightly touched the professor’s arm, as Litian-nolos did on parting.

  ********************

  Theesah-ma guided Daniel back to the station. This time, their train ride left the city behind and passed through several tunnels that pierced the surrounding hills. Eventually, they dropped below ground for good and their module detached at a busy station.

  They traversed a long corridor decorated with designs of flying machines ranging from primitive to sleek. Several Litian-nolo portraits hung among the aircraft drawings, most likely the pioneers in their flight history. Finally, a lift brought them to the surface.

  They stood inside a clear dome surrounded by a concrete apron where airships of various sizes and shapes were parked. The largest ship bound three huge tubes within a metal lattice that stretched to either side forming graceful wings. Each tube could have enclosed the largest Boeing fuselage ever produced, with room to spare. Giant Litian-nolos definitely needed their legroom.

  Almost unnoticed beside the oversized aircraft, a small black wedge perched on three landing struts. Its pointy nose protruded from an isosceles triangle body with twin turbines hanging at the triangle’s vertices. A single red light blinked atop a short pole near its aft end. The whole craft was about the size of a military jet. Though the wedge looked sleek enough to speed through any atmosphere, various antennae and several raised glass viewports belonged to a design better suited for frictionless space.

  A lone Chitza stood on the boarding ramp leading into the ship. No taller than a fire hydrant but just as sturdy, the figure wore two belts that diagonally crisscrossed a chest thick with brown and black fur. Black boots reached halfway up stout legs. White-tipped quills ran down its backside—a male of their species.

  “I guess that’s my ride,” Daniel said. He’d already decided that even if the Chitzas weren’t offering, he’d insist on a seat, leveraging his standing in Sagittarius Novus if he had to. Nala was out there somewhere, and these intelligent hedgehogs most likely knew where she went.

  “Do be careful,” Theesah-ma said. “I worry about lovely Nala. But I could not bear to lose you both. Our Chitza friends are clever, but they are also—”

  Daniel wrapped arms around the tall Litian-nolo as best he could. “Impulsive? I get it. And I’ll watch for it. But I couldn’t just wait here when Nala needs my help.”

  Theesah-ma nodded. “I would go too, if I could.”

  Daniel smiled. Even for a Human, climbing aboard the Chitza wedge would likely involve a lot of ducking and crouching. This was not a ship for giants.

  Theesah-ma lifted the professor’s leafy assistant from a perch it had found on one of her many arm crooks and held it out to Daniel.

  “I’m not quite sure where to put it,” Daniel said.

  “No pockets please,” the leaf said. “Anyplace else will do.” The leaf flexed the base of its branching stem. Tiny claws at the tips of three branches could probably latch onto most any soft surface.

  Daniel placed the leaf on his shoulder, and the stem clung to his shirt. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

  “Ets-tah Lohabi Akaisal. In English, a type of sprig.”

  “It fits you.”

  “Please call me Sprig, if easier.”

  No question there. “Pleased to meet you, Sprig. Are you…?” He let the question die on his lips. There was no point in asking about the creature’s anatomy. Organic, electronic, or something in between, it really didn’t matter. They would soon be partners on a second Chitza mission—assuming the Chitzas would allow him onboard.

  Daniel said his goodbyes to Theesah-ma, promising to return soon regardless of the fact that such an assurance was nothing more than hopeful thinking. They embraced once more, then Daniel proceeded through a doorway to the flight operations apron with Sprig clinging to his shoulder.

  “Any words of advice, Sprig, on how we might approach these Chitzas?” Daniel asked. The leaf flexed with each of Daniel’s steps.

  “They will know who you are,” Sprig answered. “And will assume I am your personal assistant."

  “Are you?”

  “Humans have a better word. Ally.”

  “I like your thinking, Sprig. We’re going to get along just fine.”

  They continued across the flat concrete to the waiting black wedge. The Chitza guard stepped to the bottom of the ship’s ramp.

  “Daniel Rice,” the Chitza said in a complex squeak that included guttural tones in lower registers. “You ready to go?”

  “Does that mean we’re flying together?” Daniel asked.

  The Chitza tilted its head toward the open hatch. “We have a spot for you. But our destination is wickedly far out there.”

  “Anything specific I need for a trip to wickedly far space?”

  “Guts.”

  Daniel suppressed a smile. “No food, water?”

  “We have ChitzaPacks.”

  “Which are?”

  “Provisions. Top quality. Humans love ‘em.”

  Nala had left with nothing more than the clothes on her back, a bottle of water, and her mobile phone. Daniel carried even less. “I'm in. Where are we heading?”

  The Chitza tugged on one of its belts. “We go where we need to go. This mission is a search for survivors, including your mate.”

  “Then let’s get to it.” Daniel bent down and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, captain.”

  “Captain Zeeno’s inside. Aussik is my name. Welcome aboard.” The Chitza lifted a clawed paw, slapped it against Daniel’s hand, and spoke with resolute enthusiasm. “We go in honor, together in life and together in death!”

  7

  Chitzas

  Daniel made his way down a dark, narrow passageway inside the Chitza scout ship, ducking under pipes and squeezing between components covered with blinking lights. It felt like a submarine both in terms of the complexity of equipment and the general lack of space for the crew. On the plus side, the scent of fresh bread baking in an oven permeated the air. Chitza provisions might very well live up to the hype.

  A particularly low spar forced him to squat but once past, the corridor widened to form an open space about ten feet across. Storage lockers covered one side. Hand grips were bolted into the walls and ceiling, useful for zero-g. Once underway, they might be floating. On Litia, a gravity generator could be bought at any hardware store, but he had no idea whether Chitza ships used the technology.

  His stocky Chitza guide, Aussik, climbed a three-step ladder through an open oval doorway. Daniel stopped at the doorway, having reached the limit of Human progress in such tight confines. He poked his head into a bright cockpit packed with aviation-style instrumentation plus a few cogs, cranks, and handles that a commercial jet would never feature. Two Chitza-sized pilot seats faced a wrap-around glass viewport looking out to the surrounding airfield.

  “Got him, Boss,” Aussik announced while climbing into the right seat.

  The left seat swiveled, revealing a thinner Chitza with distinctive patches of grey in its facial fur. It wore hard plastic shoulder pads that connected to a vest of the same brown color as its fur—clothing that accessorized rather than trying to cover the body.

  “Gek eep, shteep dah?” the captain asked.

  Daniel shrugged at the foreign words.

  The Chitza grinned, showing fine teeth. “Didn’t think so. We’ll use your language. Hell, we all went through immersion training last night, so we might as well take advantage of it.” The Chitza rubbed the inside of one ear. “Painful, but damn, that shit works.”

  He beat a fist against his chest. “I’m Zeeno. You already met our copilot Aussik. The others are on the lower deck. Four of us, plus you.” He stretched, examining Daniel more closely. “Is that thing your assistant?”

  Daniel glanced to his right. Sprig hadn’t moved or spoken a word. “My associate. Thanks for including us. Aussik says it’s a search and rescue mission. I appreciate your concern for my wife.”

  Zeeno pointed a stiff claw. “No guarantees, my friend. We’ll retrace their path. Recover the data recorder if we can. But it might not be pretty out there.”

  “I understand. I’m still thankful.”

  “Wife means mate, right? You’re a pair?”

  “Right.”

  The Chitza gritted his teeth. “We’ll find her if we can.”

  “Thanks, Captain,” Daniel said, not quite sure if he’d heard the captain’s name correctly. Zeeno sounded a lot like the Chitza name Nala had mentioned in her last message, but you never knew what slight variations were meaningful to a different species. “I understand several Chitzas are missing too.”

  “Not just any Chitzas, brothers and sisters,” Zeeno replied. Daniel was about to get clarification on the somewhat surprising new information, but Zeeno waved him off. “It’s a long story. Ask your little leaf guy, I need to get us underway. Aussik, show him his seat.”

  “Right, Boss.” Aussik squeezed past Daniel at the cockpit entrance, scurried to the right side bulkhead and dropped through a hole in the floor that until now, Daniel hadn’t noticed.

  He followed the copilot and peered down. The hole was less than two feet in diameter, easy for a Chitza but challenging for a Human. A rail on one side and wide metal steps seemed sturdy enough to support his weight. Daniel went feet first, twisting to get his shoulders through.