Day Twenty ∞ Wednesday afternoon

WEAVER STOOD BACK, allowing everyone else to go ahead of him. Some things had changed since he'd left the location a few hours ago. The focus of the camp guards had shifted away from the activities within the bubble. Now they solely tasked with protecting the camp perimeter from unauthorized approach. And it seemed like Wamba's ship had... shifted? The two ends appeared to be closer to the bubble... or had the bubble shrunken in diameter? No, the distance from the brush outside was still the same...

Filing the observation away, Weaver strode up the ramp and entered. The hull melded shut behind him as he halted between Tillman and Danny, completing the semicircle. While he waited, he let his gaze slide around in careful observation, his trained mind taking notes.

The ship's interior had been reorganized—except for his seabag that was back where he'd left it. Artemae's virtual command interface was gone. A long roll of netting against the wall enclosed several metal poles. And the bench and table had been replaced with several marble-gray, rounded armchairs, forming two rows before them.

Yet the area looked more spacious than before.

Brows rising, he scanned the length of the visible interior again. The ship looks... wider... like it's— Damn, if she wasn't kidding. It's really grown!

"Friends," Mickmi stood in front of the chairs, waited for all eyes to turn to her, then gestured toward them, "before we proceed..."

∞

Jagg found himself at the center of attention after Lora's sister allowed everybody to introduce themselves—the five suited-up astronauts, her boyfriend who also wore a suit, Lora, and the two females whom he assumed came from the same planet as she and Lora did. He found it strange that she would be the one in charge when the blonde woman with the weird name clearly was the elder. Call her Selina.

What had the short girl said? That Mickmi was the queen? But he was still too hyped about being inside this sleek, alien-looking contraption to bothered by that. It didn't look anything like the starship Enterprise. The entire interior was evenly lit, barely producing a faint shadow at his feet. He couldn't see any lighting fixtures in the smooth, unsegmented surfaces—it was as if the ceiling-walls themselves were the light source.

Lora met Jagg's gaze. Although she remained poker-faced, he could tell she was relieved that he'd decided to join them. He gave her a quick hike of the brow before shifting his attention to Mickmi who'd stepped in front of him.

For sisters, the two didn't look much alike other than body type. Scanning her up and down, he'd say she was of slighter build. Suddenly he found himself locked by her green eyes, like she was reading him like a book.

Moments passed. Feeling oddly uncomfortable, he pushed his thumbs into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"I am aware," Mickmi said eventually, "you accompanied L'or Aug out here by your own volition. What know you about this mission?"

"Just that's it's important and you needed Lora." Jagg shrugged. "I dunno what a dude like me can do... But I'm here now." His instinct was to check his surroundings, even make eye-contact with Lora again. But the intensity of Mickmi's stare made it impossible for him to look away. This chick knew what she was about, no doubt about it.

"Aye... You are here now—voluntarily and involuntarily. Unfortunately, you had no opportunity to participate in the training. So you shall learn as we go and remain an observer for the main part of this mission. You shall adhere to instructions. Or else you may risk the lives of – not only all of us – but also of those – residing – on your planet. Understand you?"

Do I understand? Yeah. Sure, would have been his response but he realized that wouldn't cut it. If he were to be taken seriously or gain any sort of respect here, he'd have to play the part.

"Yes," he replied. "Ma'am."

"L'or Aug will provide you with a spacesuit when you board. You have limited time as we travel to familiarize yourself with operating its functions."

"Got it."

She inspected him a moment longer and nodded. Then she passed between him and Tillman, heading to a strange translucent light display at what he imagined to be the fore of the ship and studied it.

Artemae stepped forward and gestured for the group to take a seat as Lora and Selina took up posts at the opposite end. Without a word, everybody complied. Jagg ended up in the front row next to Atlas, Danny, and McDonnough. As he leaned back and dropped his elbows on the soft armrests, the entire armchair shifted around him, curving around his back and buttocks to a more comfortable fit. Startled, he squeezed the padding of the edge of the seat, then looked around. By the expressions of the others, the same thing seemed to be happening with their chairs.

Mickmi returned to the group. "I must apologize. Due to the exceptional circumstances, you have yet to be informed of the full scope of our mission and the risks it entails."

She swept her hand in an arc and the space between her and the group came alive with a semi-translucent, rotating simulation of a slightly flattened cylinder with one rounded end.

Jagg gaped. It's a fucking ghost cigar! 

"Please pay close attention to this brief infographic. It will play our mission parameters and the expected results. Afterward, you may ask any pertinent questions you may still have.

"Thank you all for your cooperation and patience so far." Mickmi stepped aside.

It took several seconds before Jagg realized his jaw was hanging open. He snapped it shut and glanced past Atlas at Danny who appeared unfazed. Everybody's attention was on the floating model that turned into the outlines of a three-dimensional diagram divided into sections.

Stop acting like a fool. Pretend you cool and everything. Face set, Jagg stood up to get a closer look at the virtual display.

Each section had a label with blocks of text attached to it, detailing information about their functions. He read the headings in reverse as he walked behind it. The rounded << RAW MATERIALS COLLECTION >> end had several lines meeting at its peak. The next section had something to do with refining and processing. He reached the last fifth of the cylinder as it halted facing the group, luminous red lettering highlighting its importance: << PRODUCT STORAGE. Total Ready For Delivery: 370 units : 9.99 Tons >>. The end of it appeared to be hollow with several rectangular outlines on the recessed wall.

"What's this?" Curious, he stretched out his hand, the green lines sliding across his skin. "A factory?"

"Aye." Mickmi stepped forward with a brief smile. "Please, sit."

More notes and several new marks appeared on and around the virtual structure as he returned to his seat.

"This is Nightstar 4, the autonomous factory satellite that was captured by the anomaly that brought my compatriots and myself into your dimension. These are access hatches." She gestured at several rectangles along the sides of the cylinder. "And these at the rear are unloading ports. This is how we will proceed: after we stabilize Nightstar 4, Artemae will enter and ensure the unloading mechanisms can be operated. If they are damaged, she will fix them. Then we will remove the antimatter canisters via two of these delivery hatches."

Antimatter? It didn't look like it, and Jagg didn't believe it, but it definitely felt like he'd landed in the world of Star Trek.

"This system was designed to be fully automatic, with the receiving vessel collecting the load by using mechanisms appropriated for that purpose. Unfortunately, we lack freight capabilities. We have no choice but to do this part manually."

Mickmi pushed the plant aside, and a scale replica of her ship formed in front of her. Two elongated, double-pole frames appeared, attached to either side of the ship by brackets. A grid of fine lines curled along the frames.

"We will work in two teams, one per vessel. We transfer the canisters into a holding net like this. Each canister must be secured before transferring the next one."

The ship vanished, leaving the frames growing in size to show more detail. A train of several small cylinders the size of stubbed triple-A batteries approached the nearest one, each expanding to the length of Mickmi's hand.

"The net will unfold to receive the canisters." Mickmi waved a cylinder into position, demonstrating as she spoke. "Place them in contact with the inner surface of the net and it will adhere to the canisters. After you place six canisters in a row, lengthwise, the net will fold itself around it, thus securing it onto the frame, and you can start filling a new net. Each frame will take fifteen of these nets in three rows."

Muzzy in the second row raised a hesitant hand but Jagg couldn't wait any longer. "So this is a... antimatter factory?"

"It is an old factory that can output many types of materials. Its current configuration is to produce antimatter, aye. In the form of anti-hydrogen."

"Okay, so... that's for the warp drive, right?"

Mickmi looked amused. "No warp drive. Our colony planets still use antimatter, but not our Earth. We ended the use of it long ago... in favor of Zero-point energy. Much safer. That is also what powers this vessel. L'or Aug will explain what you need to know later. Suffice it to say, if the Nightstar enters your atmosphere, it will break up and burn, compromising the cargo... And if the antimatter is exposed... that is destruction of all matter around it—and a significant portion of your planet. Our mission is to prevent that from happening."

O... kay. Jagg stared at her. No kidding. "Okay... So we're gonna save the world. Right. No problem."

Mickmi smiled and gestured at the group. "Muzzy, you have a question?"

"Yeah. Excuse me, but... you're talking like that holding net will – know – what, how, and when to do each task?"

She nodded. "In a sense, it will know. The vessel's intrinsic intelligence will control it."

Intrinsic intelligence what? Jagg's brow furrowed but he kept quiet. He'd displayed enough of his ignorance for one day.

The astronaut behind him lifted a hand. "After we finish loading all the canisters, then what?"

"Then we will take them to the Moon... There, we will build a temporary facility underground."

Fuck! Jagg clamped his jaw against his natural reaction. We're going to the friggin' moon?

Mickmi watched their expressions with some amusement. "The Moon's surface contains all the resources needed to... construct a mothership. The antimatter will be its power source. It will be a huge hospital and shelter, with extensive hydroponic and food storage areas." She became serious. "All that is needed to care for several thousands of persons, likely injured—and for them to live there... Or to evacuate them to our Maar colony until we can make areas of our Planet habitable again. As long as we find a way to return to our dimension."

She held Jagg's gaze for two full seconds.

"I am Mickmi Lepantra Wamba... Queen Lepantra," she shifted to Tillman behind him, then made eye-contact with every man seated before her as she continued, "Seventh Queen of the Earth That Is— up to this point, has been... Beyond Reach. I, and my compatriots, shall waste no time in pursuing any – opportunity – to reach our People. Even if there is only one survivor... to help them, to find out... what – happened – to our Planet." She paused, allowing the gravity of her words to sink in.

Of all the broads... I just had to make it the one from another fucking planet. Jagg shifted his eyes to Lora and grunted. What are the odds...

She stood erect beside Selina with the same determined resolve on her face as her sister. He had no doubt they intended to succeed, no matter the cost to them.

Lora met his gaze, and he gave her a slight nod. Well, I guess it's... yo, Adventure, here I come!

"Gentlemen. Before we proceed further," Mickmi stepped before them, switching off the virtual diagram with a flick of the hand, "there is another matter we must address. I asked for brave individuals, willing to risk their lives... You are here because you are sworn to serve and protect your country—first and foremost—and your world... as you should. This I expect. Not to serve me, but to help me prevent a catastrophic disaster of a planetary scale to your world.

"Unfortunately, your superiors thought to use the opportunity to seed a spy amidship."

"Again?" Danny jumped to his feet and spun around to scan the men. "Who the—"

"Calm down, kid," Atlas said.

Danny turned to Mickmi but Jagg couldn't hear him say anything. Instead Danny positioned himself next to Mickmi as she continued, "That is something we can not tolerate. Not because we could ever hold any – nefarious plan – against your people... or your world. Nay. The reason we hold certain information from you is because we come from a future. The Non-Interference Principle compel us to protect – your – timeline. Any infringement, any careless meddling can cause serious deviations... with – grave – consequences.

"I ask the person charged with transmitting information to a high officer on the surface... to voluntarily – surrender – the device. I can assure you, it is useless inside this vessel. But this gesture will allow us to know we still – can – trust you."

Jagg tensed at the heavy silence that hung after Mickmi's words. Whoever the spy was, he didn't think it was Atlas. That man appeared too relaxed, except for a slight flexing of the fingers at the thigh, while the rest of the men shot uneasy glances at each other. Jagg watched Mickmi, trying to gauge whether she knew who it was. But it was impossible to tell with her lack of emotion.

A minute passed in uneasy silence. Finally, Mickmi nodded once at Lora and Lora returned it, stepping forward in her black and blue uniform. As she swept her gaze over the crew, Mickmi walked away to join Artemae at the fore. After a moment's hesitation, Danny followed suit, frowning.

Lora's face was grim as she gestured at McDonnough in the front row. "Please stand up, sir."

The man sprung from his seat with a scowl. "What do you want with me? Frisk me?"

"Would you please hand me the device hidden in your inner pocket?" Lora fired back and stepped before him, a slight figure compared to the jock towering a half-head over her with lips pressed in a hard line.

This was heading south in no time, fast. Jagg rose to intervene, but Atlas slapped a firm hand on his arm, halting him.

"I'm pretty sure she's got this covered."

Right... Jagg paused his instinct to shake Atlas off. She can mind-force him. He sank back into the armchair without taking his eyes off them, still prepared to jump in.

"I don't have anything like that on me," McDonnough said between clenched teeth.

"Would you prefer I take it from your pocket?"

The man's ire exploded. "Why, you little bitch!" He pulled back his fist as his left hand shot towards her neck.

— ∞ —

©2020 by  kemorgan65