SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

Above all else, zombies are ugly. Your job is to represent the last hope of humanity among the thoughtless, ravenous hordes by being wholesome, clean, symmetrical, patient, and most of all, unique.

Good luck.

I can already see you’ll need it.

END

Originally published in The Galaxy Chronicles (Windrift Books, 2015), edited by Jeff Seymour and part of The Future Chronicles anthology series, created by Samuel Peralta

“Are you sure this is it?”

The question hung in the room like one of the three-dimensional displays projected helpfully from its curved walls. It might have been Zio’s attempt at decorating the otherwise-empty space, or perhaps their ship’s invisible and ever-patient Ambient Intelligence felt that the crew was in need of visual stimulation. Half of the room displayed a glorious one-hundred-and-eighty-degree floor-to-ceiling view of their galaxy’s broad swath of light, but apparently a little clutter was just what was needed here.

Jase walked through a three-dimensional representation of a nearby solar system and then past a schematic of their little ship. It was upside down, as was the holo of what seemed to be a dancer. Zio liked to make sure the crew remained entertained during long voyages. Perhaps the information it had to combat psychological issues during deep-space travel didn’t include concepts like “up” or “down.” A long line of number symbols scrolled through the air, undoubtedly reporting on something.

He stopped before the manual control interface near the door. After a moment, Ocia shifted away from it to allow him access. Her expression suggested that his question was—at this point—pretty much rhetorical, although she refrained from rolling her jewel eyes.

Jase loaded another holo tracing their journey from the Kiza System to here, each leap marked and the connecting routes clearly charted, and frowned as if trying to remember the exact route home before they jumped off the edge of the map.

“Not scared, are you?” Ocia said with a slow smile that told him that confiding his misgivings to her would just end in derisive gossip around the dinner table.

He sent an overlay to the forward screen to reveal the exact coordinates of the rupture, outlined in white and red symbols. They glowed reassuringly, beckoning the approaching fleet of explorers.

Treasure hunters, Jase thought, letting his eyes shift to Ocia. She stood with her arms crossed and her head cocked before the panoramic viewscreen, a buccaneer in search of fame and riches, surveying the shores of some distant land.

Except, of course, that they still had to cross the distance to get there. “Zio?”

“Yes, Jase.”

Jase looked up, although the toneless voice, male today, emanated from the wall behind him. The dancer, an Outlander tetrapod, cavorted up there in triplicate now, twirling to some music that perhaps only the ship heard. “Let’s get ready for the leap,” he said, watching as the control interface began the thousands of tasks that would ensure that this little expedition remained alive during the voyage. “And clean this up,” he added, waving at the solar system now orbiting Ocia.

Zio Four, the ship’s invisible and ever-patient Ambient Intelligence, dutifully removed the holograms. The round, unfurnished space seemed larger now, although Jase was rarely bothered by small ships. Small ships made for smaller crews and a lot less trouble, he thought, although this crew made up for it with their own peculiarities.

He returned to the bulging wall to gaze out into space. Black sky pricked by distant stars, denser toward the center of their galaxy, stretched out into forever. The four ships accompanying them cruised in a wide sprawl and now, at Zio’s signal, began to converge on this location. The silence up here, and out there, was bothersome today. Looking out at the approaching ships, he could almost see the silence.

“Music, Zio,” he said, barely audible. A soft rhythm from his favorite collection filled the room, and he breathed deeply.

“You’re tense, pilot,” Ocia said. When he looked up, the smirk was still on her lovely face. “It’ll check out, you’ll see. We’ll be back in the sector before breakfast.”

“You hope.”

Both of them turned when the door slid aside, allowing light from the hall to seep into this dim space. Jase smiled when he saw Ranael enter the bridge followed by their guest. The overbearingly large Chidean bustled past her and rushed to look outside, perhaps unaware that the curved panorama was simply a collage of display screens in the windowless chamber. He looked a little paler today, and Jase wondered if the conditions aboard this vessel suited the creature. Ranael had done her best to learn about his people and make him comfortable but, to Jase, the man looked ill.

Their lone, delightfully wealthy passenger placed his blunt fingers on the screen and drawled something in that odd cadence that none of them had been able to master. When Ranael shrugged, Zio translated.

“Mister Tenzo would like to go right now.”

Jase tipped his chin toward the approaching escort ships. “When we’re together. We’re doing this just once.”

“Mister Tenzo asks if your ships are perhaps inadequate.”

Jase threw an accusing look at Ocia. Her idea, all of this. He had wanted nothing to do with the project from the moment she presented it to the boss. No real research opportunity, only a questionable return on their investment, and a fair chance of ending up smashed into bits when trying to jump through what was pretty much an unknown breach. He relished the rare thrill of dipping into another layer of this onion they called a universe. But not when the landing site was little more than rumor, legend, and the word of this foreigner nearly bouncing up and down with excitement.

But Ocia’s daddy owned the company, owned the ships, and pretty much owned any future mission Jase could hope to command. He reflected mournfully upon the loss of his own vessel, the Calume , before putting that memory aside again. This was now, and he was a hired hand who no longer had the luxury of picking and choosing his assignments. So when she dug up Mister Tenzo and his treasure map, he was at the mercy of her ability to manipulate the boss.

“Ask Mister Tenzo to return to his cabin below so that we can get ready.”

“Mister Tenzo wishes to stay up here.”

“Of course he does,” Jase muttered. He caught a gentle smile playing at the corners of Ranael’s lips. Her eyes gleamed with good humor, as always, and he reminded himself that some parts of this dreary trip had, so far, been downright pleasurable. He returned her smile, noting how beautifully the elegant swoop of her cheekbone was taken up by the design of the pretty exocortex shell cradling her skull.

He shook himself out of this mood and gestured to Zio’s ever-present eyes to open the ship’s com system, even though the AI would by now have alerted the entire crew of their imminent jump into what, for many, was another universe. “Jase here,” he said to the crew, a talented assortment of pilots, ex-military members, adventurers, and mercenaries. “Let’s do this. We’ll take an inverse formation—who knows what’s on the other side.”

“You’re not probing?” came Naka’s voice from one of the other ships, sounding a little incredulous.

“I’m not sure we maintain the field long enough to get any meaningful return. Not with five ships. And we’ll probably run into considerable dilation.” The last comment was meant for Ocia, whose eyes narrowed.

They had argued this for weeks now. Time dilation rarely affected brief jumps. On the remote chance that anything of significance was encountered, who really cared what time it was for anyone? This, though, was a different matter entirely.