Emperor of the Universe Page 9

  Nicholas followed Clave down the steps to a catwalk that ran along one wall. “Wow…” he said. The space below him was filled with nuggets and hunks of gold, along with some slabs and small boulders. The treasure rose within an inch or two of the catwalk. Nicholas had only a rough idea how deep the cargo hold was, and he really had no clue how much the gold weighed, or even what an ounce of gold was worth, but whoever owned this much gold would probably be the richest person on Earth. He’d definitely be the richest seventh grader.

  “And I can have it all?” It seemed too easy. He figured there had to be a catch.

  “Yes. It’s all yours,” Clave said. “I told you it’s worthless to me.”

  Nicholas noticed several boxes stacked on top of the gold along the far wall, held in place by a tangle of frayed straps. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a large metal box covered with dials and switches.

  “Oh, drat,” Clave said. “It’s a matter replicator. I was supposed to deliver it as quickly as possible.”

  “Can’t you just teleport it?” Nicholas asked.

  “No. The entire workings are biological.” Clave hopped over the railing of the catwalk and inched his way across the shifting chunks of gold. When he reached the other side, he leaned toward the replicator and took a sniff. “Oh dear. I need to get that to Vrexis before it spoils.”

  “How soon is that?” Nicholas asked.

  “Probably yesterday,” Clave said. “Maybe last week.”

  Nicholas pointed to a pair of glass globes the size of softballs that were cushioned inside a display case. Each globe contained an orb that pulsed with red light and rippled as if it were made of silk and sunlight. “And that?”

  “A breeding pair of pet Orbanies. One of the most beautiful and rare forms of sea life, from Oceanica. I have to deliver them to Exferm VII.”

  “That chest?”

  “Top-secret document that has to be delivered by hand.”

  “That sack?”

  “Five dozen pickled mammoth-ant brains. Very rare delicacy.”

  “Ick.” Nicholas pointed at a cube about two feet wide, made of thin black rods. An object pulsed inside of the cube, but he couldn’t make out a clear shape. Something about it gave him the same sense of unease in the pit of his stomach that he got when the sky darkened rapidly before a massive thunderstorm. “What’s that thing?”

  “It’s an antimatter power core,” Clave said.

  “It looks dangerous,” Nicholas said.

  “That’s because it is,” Clave said. “But we’re okay as long as it isn’t switched from standby to full power. And you can only do that with the remote, or by slamming it really hard.”

  “You mean that remote?” Nicholas pointed to a remote control jutting out from beneath Clave’s left foot. (He knew it was a remote because, in one of those quirks of coincidence, unlike toilets, automobiles, and ball caps, among other things, the design of remote controls was pretty much a universal constant.)

  “Right. That.” Clave stepped back and picked up the remote. “Maybe I’ll keep this in the cockpit.”

  “Good idea.” Nicholas pointed to something that looked like a spaghetti and meatball dinner after it had been halfway digested. “Ew … What’s that?”

  “I can’t recall.”

  “Where are you taking it?”

  “Not sure. I must have that information somewhere around here.” Clave lifted one end of a slab of gold next to the stringy mess. “I know I have a manifest…”

  “You’re not very good at this courier stuff, are you?” Nicholas asked.

  Clave staggered as if he’d been smacked in the face. “Do I come down to Earth and make fun of you at your job?”

  “I don’t have a job,” Nicholas said.

  “No job? Then what do you do?”

  “I go to school,” Nicholas said.

  “School?”

  Nicholas explained.

  Clave stared at Nicholas for a moment, as if he weren’t sure whether he was being kidded. “And how long does this last?”

  “At least twelve years. Thirteen if you count kindergarten. One or two more if you go to preschool. Another four for college. Longer if you want a graduate degree. Some people never stop taking classes.”

  “Sounds like a scam,” Clave said. “No wonder you barbarians are still confined to your own solar system. Well, feel free to stare at all of this gold as long as you want. I’m going to check whether we can get to one of these delivery sites in three jumps. At least that way, I’ll earn enough to buy the cubes I need to get you off my hands.” He went back up the steps.

  Something tickled the back of Nicholas’s brain when he thought about school. Maybe there was a way to get farther with the three cubes than Clave realized. But he needed to know more first. “Hey, can you explain these jump things to me?” he called after Clave. “How do they connect? Why do you have to do a series of them?”

  “It’s complicated, barbarian,” Clave said. “Don’t distract me. I need to figure a way out of this mess.”

  “Whatever,” Nicholas muttered. “I’m not stupid.” He sat on the top step and looked at the gold. He couldn’t believe how much there was. He was sure he could have everything he wanted, and also make the world a better place for lots of people. Assuming any of the big problems on Earth could be fixed with money.

  “Of course you’re not stupid,” Henrietta said. “And it’s not all that complicated. It’s probably a lot like in that movie, Marauders of the Galaxy.”

  “I don’t remember that one,” Nicholas said.

  “That’s because you didn’t see it. I did. Nineteen times. You’re always leaving the TV on.” She explained how the nodes were probably connected.

  “Thanks. That makes sense. But it means we’re not going to have a lot of options as far as where to go. I hope he figures something out.” Nicholas glanced in the direction of the bridge. “And I hope he lets me know before he does another jump.”

  As if on cue, the ship lurched violently, tossing the gold around and flinging Nicholas from the steps. He came close to dying like the bad guy in an adventure movie who gets killed by all the gold after he killed most of the good guys to get that gold. He was relieved to see that Henrietta had managed to cling to her spot on the steps and avoid getting tumbled. Some of the cargo straps had broken, but nothing had come totally loose. He figured he should mention that to Clave, but he had something else to mention first.

  “You didn’t even say ‘hang on’ this time,” he yelled as he scrambled out of the cargo hold and stomped into the bridge. “I could have gotten killed!”

  “I didn’t launch us anywhere,” Clave said, from his sprawled position on the floor. The ship jerked again, as if it were a deeply rooted tooth being yanked from a jaw. “We’re in some sort of tractor beam.”

  Nicholas checked to make sure Jeef was okay, then went to the viewport. “I don’t see any ship.”

  “That’s because all you see is ship,” Henrietta said.

  “Oh … my … word…” Nicholas realized she was right. Whatever was pulling them was so huge it blotted out the entire view. As he watched, a small square of dazzling light appeared on the surface of the enormous object. Another appeared next to it. They shed enough light that Nicholas got a clear view of what was happening. Black panels were flipping over, spreading out from the location of the first one, turning the dark surface into a glittery expanse that seemed to reflect a thousand colors. As the visible expanse spread, Nicholas eventually was able to detect a curve to the surface.

  “It looks like a disco ball,” he said. “What do you think they want?”

  “No idea,” Clave said. “But in my experience, nothing good ever existed at the other end of a tractor beam.”

  QUICK THINKING

  The big leap that spawned a universal expansion of Thinkerator technology came when a clever merchant realized two things. First, there was a huge difference between quick and instant. Second, while colonists we
re happy just to get what they needed, consumers were an entirely different market. Jump shuttles had to be loaded with cargo. Then, after making their jumps, it could take the ship hours, or even days, to travel from the jump node to a docking station. The Thinkerator could deliver an item anywhere in the universe instantly, as long as there was a receiving unit on the other end.

  As huge a revelation as this was, the first commercial application offered a single product: Kenporian neckties. (Virtually every planet where one segment of the dominant species adorns their necks with uncomfortable pieces of fabric also celebrates a special day for that segment, thus ensuring a steady market for ties. And Kenporian neckties are among the finest neckties available.) Kenporia Cravats Limited employed three mind shippers their first year. Within a decade, the business grew large enough to offer more than five thousand products. Within a quarter century, they’d covered major portions of Kenporia with warehouses, and were employing hundreds of thousands of shippers.

  This expansion didn’t just happen on Kenporia. Once the process reached commercial practicality, it was rapidly put to use selling pretty much everything and shipping it pretty much anywhere, allowing those with too much money to purchase and instantly obtain things they didn’t need not just from their hometown or country or planet, but from anywhere at all. Before long, every home had a Thinkerator. And nearly every planet that produced any form of desirable merchandise had at least one warehouse and a shipping facility.

  GRABBITY

  After a brief silence, Clave gasped.

  “What?” Nicholas asked.

  “That’s a great quote,” Clave said. “Nothing good ever existed at the other end of a tractor beam. It could go univiral! Tenth-rate sfumbler? I’ll show her.” He repeated the quote about tractor beams as he captured a clip of himself. Then, he turned back to Nicholas. “Don’t worry. It contains nothing that could help locate us. It’s important to sfumble regularly if you want to build an audience.”

  Nicholas shifted his attention back to the massive ship. Four of the panels that formed a two-by-two square slid diagonally away from the center, revealing a massive opening leading to a chamber that looked like a hangar. “We’re getting swallowed,” he said.

  “Nothing,” Clave said.

  “What are you talking about?” Nicholas asked.

  “Nothing!” Clave jabbed a finger at the bottom of the image where his newest sfumble hovered, displaying the looping video along with various stats. The view count was impressively low, and not showing any signs of climbing at more than a trickle.

  “Maybe people haven’t seen it yet,” Nicholas said.

  “Nonsense,” Clave said. “People eagerly await my sfumbles.”

  Nicholas groped for something positive to say. “They could all be asleep.”

  “You don’t seem to have much of a grasp of how the universe works,” Clave said. “Wait! Here we go. People are watching it. That’s better.”

  The view count rose more quickly. Below it, a stream of comments scrolled by.

  Where’s the Destroyer?

  Show us the Assassin!

  Who is Nicholas killing next?

  He’s cute for a biped. Is he married?

  Clave sighed. His shoulders slumped.

  “I’m sure people will love your quote,” Nicholas said, unaware that the sigh-and-slumped-shoulder gesture was how Menmarians reflexively acted when they had a sudden urge to empty their bowels.

  “Back in a moment,” Clave said as he dashed toward the living quarters.

  Nicholas felt a similar urge a moment later, when the ship was pulled inside the enormous hangar. He felt like a flea that had just been swallowed by a whale.

  “No point fighting it,” Clave said when he returned. He cut the engines and the ship settled to the floor.

  The outer hatch closed, sealing them inside the enormous room.

  “I imagine they’re filling the chamber with some sort of atmosphere,” Henrietta said after several minutes passed with no sign of their captors.

  “Hopefully not Tex-Mex,” Nicholas said. Then, he sighed and his shoulders slumped.

  “Do you need to empty your bowels?” Clave asked. “Maybe it was the sandwich.”

  “The sandwich was fine. So are my bowels,” Nicholas said. “It’s just, I killed a bunch more people.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Henrietta said. “You showed them a peaceful solution, and they took advantage of it for treachery.”

  “They would have killed one another anyway,” Clave said. “Well before Menmar was at war with Zefinora, the people were battling among themselves. Why do you think the other continents are unoccupied? My people are no lovers of peace. None of this is your fault.”

  “Thanks,” Nicholas said. Clave’s and Henrietta’s words didn’t really make him feel much better, but he appreciated their efforts. He was surprised Jeef hadn’t chimed in with something comforting. He realized Jeef had been pretty quiet since she’d discovered she’d been ground up, and she hadn’t said anything at all since she’d told them about her past life.

  “It will be okay,” he said, putting his hand on top of the package. “Somehow, things will work out.”

  Thank you. For to him that is joined to all the living, there is hope.

  Just then, a smaller hatch on the interior wall opened and a creature padded into the hangar. He looked like a human with the head of a beagle.

  “Dad?” Nicholas blurted the word out. It was propelled from his throat by a wave of relief at the thought that he’d been rescued. Parents had an amazing ability to show up when you desperately needed them, as well as when you desperately wanted to escape observation. The feeling of relief ebbed as quickly as it had swelled, when Nicholas noticed the beagle-faced creature had real paws and a tail. It also had a four-pronged tongue, with which it licked its snout on both sides at once. And though it was hard to tell for sure, given the enormous scale of the chamber, it seemed to be no more than four feet tall. Definitely not the dad of anyone from Earth.

  Clave opened the ship’s hatch and stomped out. “You had no right to capture us,” he said.

  Ignoring Clave, the Beradaxian (for that’s what he was) addressed Nicholas, who was on his way down the ramp with Henrietta and Jeef, speaking in a surprisingly melodic voice that was nowhere near the baying of a hound one might expect from such a face, or the villainous hiss of a cartoon snake suggested by the forked tongue. “This way.”

  “You don’t get to boss me around,” Clave said.

  The creature turned back to the inner hatch.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Clave said.

  The creature walked through the hatch.

  Nicholas, who was just grateful the air smelled like a brand-new football, and an expensive one at that, picked up his portable companions and followed the creature, whose tail was now wagging in time with his steps.

  “I’m just coming along to keep an eye on my passenger,” Clave said as he ran to catch up with Nicholas. “I’m not following your orders.”

  They walked down a long corridor, then boarded a tram that carried them deeper into the bowels of the massive ship, following a path defined by a rail painted on the floor.

  “I haven’t seen anyone else,” Nicholas whispered to Henrietta.

  “It’s kind of spooky,” she said. “The place feels deserted.”

  Eventually, they disembarked from the tram, and walked along a wider corridor, which ended at a sparkling hatch decorated with a mosaic of round stones, each the size of a quarter. Penny-sized centers of various colors were ringed by bright yellow bands. As Nicholas got closer, the centers seemed to aim at him.

  “The stones are staring at me,” he said. He was sure of it now. He leaned to the left and watched as the inner discs shifted. “What kind of rocks are they?”

  “Those are Greven eyes,” Clave said. “Very rare. Only the wealthiest beings in the universe can afford even one. I’ve heard of them, but never seen them. Or been seen
by them.”

  “Just the eyes?” Nicholas asked. He felt his spine stiffen at the thought of somebody harvesting parts from Greven, which he pictured as cute, furry forest creatures.

  “Yes, just the eyes,” Clave said.

  “That’s awful,” Nicholas said.

  “It’s perfectly fine,” Clave said. “They grow back.”

  Nicholas shuddered. He knew that people took claws from live crabs. But that was sort of okay, because the claws grew back. (Though he suspected the crabs might not feel inclined to such generosity, had they been given a choice.) But eyes? That was too cruel. “That’s barbaric,” he said.

  “Not really,” Clave said.

  “But who would do such a thing?” Nicholas asked. “Who would pluck eyes from the Greven just to sell them?”

  “The Greven,” Clave said. “It’s their major export.”

  “Please, gentlemen. You need to go in. He’s waiting.” The Beradaxian stepped aside and gestured for them to continue. The hatch, which produced a fanfare of heroic music when it opened, led to an opulent chamber. The floor, made of polished granite-like stone, was a shiny moving swirl of white, red, and black. Nicholas found that he got dizzy if he stared at it while he walked. On the side walls, shelves made of a blue-tinged wood-like material displayed a variety of sculptures. A large wooden desk, with a grain that also seemed to swirl, dominated the rear third of the room. A single deep-black shelf ran the length of the rear wall, supporting busts of various creatures. Rows of displays set in the desk showed an assortment of scenes that all seemed to be performances of one type or another.

  In the center of the rear shelf sat a replica of the ship they were in. It was on a stand labeled Cloud Mansion Intergalactic.

  “See,” Nicholas said. “This ship has a name. A stupid one. But a name.”

  Clave’s attention was elsewhere. “That’s Greepni Mem D’Voiber!” he said, pointing to a bust that resembled a horned walrus. “I love his movies. And there’s Penge of a Thousand Limbs! She’s an amazing dancer.” Clave’s finger shifted toward a face that seemed to be formed from translucent crystals atop a body made of fibers of light.