Act One

Babel Rising

Part I

Solarin Imperial Scientific Research Association (SISRA), Planet Caliburn, Jyl 21st, year 3729 of the Second Solarin Age

The planet Caliburn wasn’t much like Professor Alveur Freume’s home planet of Sevunai, the cheerful Sevine thought as he walked under the overcast sky, but at least the rain was always the same. It came in all the same variants – fat and impactful, thin and stinging, fast, slow, refreshing and irritating (not that a Sevine could get irritated by rain easily), and often enough that one never dried out on an otherwise irritatingly dry planet. 

He would have enjoyed the chance to stand in the rain even without needing an excuse, but in this instance he had an actual reason to be walking underneath the dark clouds and enjoying the weather. As he approached the SISRA building, all glass and ugly permacrete that he never paid attention to, he felt a wave of that odd nauseous feeling he got whenever he had to put his theories to the test. 

Cheer up, Alveur, he thought to himself. Today will go well. And after today… He couldn’t help but give a giddy little chuckle. After today, we will change the entire Solarin Empire. 

Waiting at the entrance to SISRA was a human woman in a blue navy Admiral’s uniform, her hands behind her back. She had a severe expression on her face, her almost bloodless spacer complexion and cold grey eyes only adding to the intimidating aura she was pushing outwards.

In Freume’s experience, humans in the military liked seeming intimidating, even humans in the navy’s often poorly-named ‘Science Corp’ (how anyone scientifically-minded thought the military had any place in such matters was beyond him). It did make some semblance of sense to him – intimidation was always good for someone who was part of an organisation dedicated to violence and the protection of the Empire through that violence – but that didn’t mean he liked it. He could feel the pigmentation of his skin turning pale with worry. 

“Professor,” the Admiral greeted with a curt nod as he reached her. “I’m Admiral Diakos from Navy Science Corp.” She gave him a cold smile. “I understand you have something special to show us today.”

“In point of fact, I do, Admiral.” Freume took a deep breath. “If you’d like to join me?”

The Admiral was a quiet companion for the whole walk through SIRSA. Of course, even in the Science Corp, the Navy didn’t entirely appreciate the work that men like Freume did. Still. he had hoped that an officer from the Science-Corp would, at least, make some light conversation. To talk about the work, SIRSA, some random discovery that had been made… anything would be preferable to this silence, really. If only to add a spark to the walk and make it less intimidating. 

But no: Diakos was eerily silent throughout, merely keeping step with him and looking around with a judgemental, narrowed eye. 

Mind you, Freume thought to himself, her reticence to engage does make some sense, if she’s been briefed about the proposal.

Yes, perhaps Freume didn’t entirely begrudge Admiral Diakos her silence. Why should he? It wasn’t everyday that a science from antiquity – a forbidden science, no less – was pulled from the annals of history and brought to the Admiralty’s attention.

***

It was a room deep in the under-complex of SIRSA where Freume finally led Diakos. It was surprisingly unassuming, save for its location: anyone who had worked even tangentially with SIRSA (and most Sci-Corp officers had at least served an internship here) knew that the under-complex was where the bigger, more dangerous experiments were run. Freume found himself briefly wondering if this Admiral had ever been down here.

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“If you’ll step inside,” he said, motioning for her to enter the room.

“After you, Professor Freume,” Diakos retorted, inclining her head.

Freume nodded, before entering the room carefully.

It was large, spacious, with a pair of computer consoles flanking a single tall transparent galladiun tube. Within the tube was a roiling mass of energy, red and white, pulsating like plasma.

“What is that?” Diakos asked, her eyes fixed on the mass with a scowl.

“That,” Freume said, “is an Underspace drive.”

There was a pause. Diakos blinked, before looking at Freume with an expression he could only describe as the sort of wide, goggle-eyed gape that one displayed if the person one was looking at had spontaneously developed a second head.

Oh. She wasn’t briefed then, Freume thought with a silent sigh. Typical.

“Underspace,” she finally said, in a tone Freume himself often used when referring to otherwise insane ideas.

“Indeed,” Freume said, smiling brightly at her. “I’ve been working with a few other researchers – Reynard, Monroe from Sci-Corp, Bennington, Ito… and, well, we think we’ve finally cracked it.”

Diakos did not look convinced. Her expression was hardening, lines forming around her lips and her brow slowly contracting into a scowl. If she were Sevine, Freume had no doubt she would be going an altogether ugly shade of grey.

“Professor Freume,” she said after a moment. “I hope I do not have to tell you the prior history of Underspace technology.”

Freume chuckled. “If you’re about to recite for me the story of Bonaventure, Admiral, please don’t bother. I’ve extensively researched the period and the science they used for that ship. And, if I may say, it’s all hopelessly antiquated compared to what we’ve got here.”

“Antiquated,” Diakos said flatly. “An entire starship and her crew disappeared into the ether without a trace, and you’re criticising the technology involved.”

“Well… yes,” Freume said, chuckling. “Because we believe we’ve perfected it.”

“You believe you’ve…” Diakos blinked, her eyes widening as she took in precisely what Freume had just said. He could almost see the tides churning in her head as she realised what he meant. 

When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper. “You’ve what?” 

Freume took a deep breath. “We think we have perfected this technology. As in, we are very close to making this technology a viable option as a full replacement for the shunt-drives our fleet currently uses.”

Diakos said nothing, her expression entirely blank save for her wide, surprised eyes.

“You want this,” she finally said, “to replace the shunt-drive.” 

“Yes,” Freume said, nodding. “Right now, the US drive – our little code name, makes people less jittery – is already capable of moving a test distance, although naturally this is all simulation. The next step, of course, would be to install it on a starship for full testing.”

“A starship?” Diakos repeated incredulously, her eyes widening further still. “You want this on a starship?!”

“Indeed, yes,” Freume said. “And not a shuttle or other short-range craft. Ideally a light cruiser at least.”

Diakos’ eyes were now dangerously close to popping from her head. “A light cruiser?”

“Or any other ship of the line, yes,” Freume said, feigning obliviousness to her discomfort. 

Diakos’ expression did not soften. “You expect us to sacrifice a light cruiser to this insanity of yours?”

“Sacrifice?” Freume repeated incredulously. “No, no, no. That would imply I expect for the drive to fail, and I do not. In fact, I expect for it to succeed beyond our wildest expectations!” He coughed, giving her a somewhat sheepish smile. “So to speak.”

Diakos blinked again, before nodding slowly.

“Alright,” she said, almost through gritted teeth. “Alright, then. Talk us through this… this new drive of yours. Let’s hear the science.” 

Freume smiled. “I promise you, you shan’t regret it.” 

***