HOME IS WHERE THE HUB IS

by Christopher L. Bennett

* * * *

Illustrated by Vincent Di Fate

* * * *

Is an obviously better way always the best choice?

* * * *

Nashira Wing fidgeted with the straps of her slinky dress as she signaled at the door of Suite 47. She practically jumped out of said dress when the door opened and a huge, slavering carnivore thrust out its head. “Are you room service?” it said. “About time. I’m starving.” Several snaketongue tentacles darted out to sniff at her limbs. “Are the exposed parts the ones that will grow back? Don’t worry, my venom anesthetizes you.”

“Ahh, no,” Nashira said, regaining her aplomb. She stared down banal and pointless death every day; at least the sight of a huge hyperdentate mouth got the adrenaline flowing a bit. “Sorry, I must’ve hit the wrong button. I want Room 4.”

The beast—more properly, the Qhpong—reared its head and all its tongues back. “Oh, you must be David’s mating partner! Of course, I should’ve recognized the species. Hard to tell with your scent masked like that.”

“Yeah, we’re funny that way.”

The Qhpong looked her over again, with its eyes this time. “And so many exposed parts too. A pity. But never mind. I like that David. Such a polite fellow. And he smells delicious. You’re a lucky female.”

“I am? Um. Sure. Yes, I am.”

The Qhpong went back inside, muttering about calling room service and threatening to eat some of their parts without anesthesia. Nashira again hit the door signal, hoping that this time it would connect her to the right facet of the tesseract-shaped suite within. By now, thanks to the inept maintenance in this fleatrap hotel, virtually all of the suite’s other occupants had become aware of her frequent visits to David LaMacchia, and they’d become an object of gossip around Hubstation 3742. David liked it that way, but Nashira could do without the embarrassment.

This time, the dimensional interface worked properly and David answered. “Oh, great, you’re here!” The young, sandy-haired American ushered her in quickly, shut the door, and activated the small cubic room’s privacy field. His eyes went straight to her purse. “Is that it?”

Nashira glared. “What? No comment about the dress?”

“What? Oh, you look gorgeous,” he said absently. “Now, come on, let me see the module.”

Gorgeous? Nashira was too nonplussed to resist as David took the purse and rummaged through it, retrieving the gravitational sensor module she’d been smuggling aboard her Hubdiver ship for the past week. After a moment, she shook it off. Why should she care whether this feckless rube noticed her? She could do better any day of the week. Or she could if her arrangement with David didn’t require the pretense that their private meetings were of a personal nature. She sighed. What a waste of good perfume.

All David cared about, of course, was his quest to crack the secrets of the Hub and thereby prove humanity’s worth to interstellar civilization. Not that Nashira couldn’t sympathize with his goals; if it were possible to predict which entry vector into that bizarre hole in reality would lead to which point in the greater galaxy, she would no longer have to risk her life testing Hub vectors at random in the remote hope of finding a useful one. But what David saw as the fresh, unbiased perspective of a new, young species, Nashira saw only as terminal cluelessness.

And even David’s optimism could only take him so far. After a while, he groaned, tossing the instruments aside. “Still nothing.”

“Don’t tell me that still surprises you,” Nashira said. “I’ve made more slow dives this month than a base jumper on Phobos, but the transition’s still as good as instantaneous. And even if it weren’t, the Hub leaks signal from every radiating body within a hundred kiloparsecs. There’s no way to tease any data out of that wall-to-wall white noise. What, you think you’re the first person to try it this way in sixteen thousand years?”

“Nashira, if there were no chance, we wouldn’t have to put on this act. The fact that the Dosperhag want to stop us means there must be a way.”

“You mean the fact they tried to bloody kill us.” The Dosperhag were generous enough as a rule, sharing the Hub they’d discovered with the races of the greater galaxy. But they could afford to be, given the immense profits they made from their stake in the single means of faster-than-light travel in the known universe. If someone cracked the secret of the Hub and used it to create an alternate means of FTL travel, the Dospers would lose their position of privilege. So their benevolence had its limits, as David and Nashira had learned the hard way.

Nashira was startled by a chime at the door. “Oh, get that, will you?” David asked. “That’ll be Rynyan.”

“Rynyan!” Nashira raced to the entrance and yanked the Sosyryn inside, looking around furtively. “What are you doing here?” she hissed as she shut the door.

The tawny, leonine-faced biped absently preened his feathery mane. “David invited me.”

“What?! Nobody saw you, did they?”

“Oh, I just had a charming conversation with the Qhpong in Room 5. Don’t worry, I didn’t blow our cover; I told her I was here for a threesome.”

Nashira winced, cursing under her breath in Cantonese. Putting up with David was manageable, but it meant putting up with Rynyan as well. The obscenely wealthy Sosyryn race prided themselves on their generosity and competed ruthlessly to out-donate one another; funding hopeless causes like David’s was a particular mark of prestige. Nashira didn’t mind Rynyan’s generous bribes for smuggling David’s equipment, but she could do without his supercilious attitude and his relentless come-ons. And she still resented him for jumping the claim on the greatest find of her career, cheating her out of her one chance at escaping this life. Only the fact that he’d inadvertently saved her life in the process kept her from ending his. Having no concept of failure or deprivation, though, Rynyan kept on cheerfully flirting no matter how often she shot him down. At least David’s inability to accept failure was due to good old human self-delusion . . . though he would call it hope.

Rynyan looked her over. “And she was right, you do look good enough to eat. What do you say we make me an honest Sosyryn? Although I could live with telling a small lie, if you’d rather we just had a twosome. Either way, I do need accurate details to post on my daily journal.”

Nashira stifled a scream, causing David to look up in alarm. “That’s it! Risking my arse is one thing, but my reputation can’t take any more of this!” She stormed to the door. “No more fake trysts. If you two want to scan the Hub any more, you’ll just have to come on a dive and take your bloody chances along with me.”

Perversely, predictably, David grinned at the prospect, leaping off the bed. “Great! I’ve been dying to get back into space! Can we go tomorrow?”

She should’ve known counting on David’s sanity was a mistake. “If you don’t mind risking instant and horrible deaths, sure.”

He shrugged. “You told me you scan for sabotage before every dive session now.”

“There may be other ways they can screw us.”

“Here at the Hub, with so many witnesses, they wouldn’t dare. And on the other end, they can’t do anything.” He smiled and took her hands. “Besides . . . I trust you to take good care of us.”

Her heart raced, and she cursed herself. How did he always manage to get through her armor? She turned to Rynyan. “Don’t tell me—you’re coming along too. Even though we could die.”

“Oh, relax,” Rynyan replied glibly. “Death is something that happens to other people.”

* * * *

The call from Dosp came at the worst possible moment for Mokak Vekredi. Had it been any other caller, he would have told them he was on vacation. But his job, and thus the survival of his large and growing family (growing at this very moment), depended on pleasing his superiors. So he had his companions (he’d trained himself not to think of them as his children, lest he slip up and confess the relationship in public) help him over to the quantelope tank and then strive to conduct the ongoing operation as silently as possible—though Vekredi himself was the one who would normally make the most noise. “I’m—I’m here, Morjepas,” he managed to get out, keeping his gasps to a minimum.

The quantelope turned its adorable little stubby-horned face toward Vekredi and spoke in a reedy Dosperhag voice, carried instantaneously across the light-hours from Dosp by the quantum link binding this ‘lope to its entanglemate in Morjepas’s office. “Vekredi, are you all right?”

“You’re giving birth, aren’t you?”

“Why, sir!” he got out between grunts. “I have no comprehension . . . what you mean. I’m simply doing . . . paperwork.” The first baby came free and began emitting peeping cries. “Oh, pardon me, that’s a . . . call I need to put on hold.” He gestured frantically at one of his companions to take the baby into the other room.

“Oh, please,” Morjepas said through the ‘lope. “Everyone knows Verzhik are prolific breeders. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Was there . . . some specific reason you . . . needed me, Morjepas?”

“It can wait a few hours.”

“No, really . . . I’m not doing . . . anything important.”

The quantelope sighed. “Very well, have it your way. It’s about your report that the human LaMacchia is taking dives with Scout Wing again.”

“Yes . . . that is correct.”

“You’re permitting this?”

“I have no . . . grounds for denying it. Aaah!” The second baby was reluctant to come out. Or maybe Vekredi was just too tense. This was an extremely private thing, only for Verzhik. Even the scrutiny of a quantelope was deeply humiliating.

“That’s true,” Morjepas said after a moment. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance their relationship is actually sexual?”

Vekredi’s cringe had nothing to do with his labor pains. What was private for Verzhik should be private for everyone, particularly for such disgustingly non-hermaphroditic creatures as humans. “I have no opinion.”

“Well, we’re fairly certain it’s a cover for his continued investigations of the Hub. The dimensional walls in his hotel suite are thin, and our agent there has heard no sounds consistent with human copulation.”

At this rate, Vekredi’s cringe muscles would be as sore as . . . certain others. “Stipulated! Stipulated. What do you propose we do to deter them?”

“Now, Vekredi, you know that the Dosperhag officially have no objection to Hub research.”

“Of course.”

“So it has to look like an accident.”

Vekredi winced, for more reasons than one. He imagined the second baby was looking at him sullenly as another companion took it away. He hoped this call would end soon so he could begin nursing. “What do you have in mind?”

“The next time Scout Wing takes LaMacchia on a dive, assign her to the following Hub vector.” The quantelope recited a string of numbers. Vekredi called them up from his memory implant and reviewed the information.

“But Morjepas . . . that’s a dormant vector! Two consecutive scouts disappeared there. The last was only . . . twelve years ago.” If the danger had persisted for the five years between scouts, it was doubtful the Hubpoint had drifted away from it since then. Procedure dictated waiting at least twenty years before a third attempt.

“Vekredi, you do understand the point of this exercise, don’t you?”

With a sigh, Vekredi said, “Yes, Morjepas. I’ll assign Scout Wing the vector.”

“I’m sorry about this, Mokak. Are you fond of Scout Wing?”

Vekredi pondered the question. “Actually, no.” The thought cheered him. Having to replace a Hubdiver ship and train a new scout would be a hassle. Such losses were part of the business, but it clashed with his orderly administrative impulses to bring them on deliberately. But being spared Nashira Wing’s unruly, disrespectful manner and her constant taunts about his alleged parenthood (he sighed as the third baby finally came out—only five more to go!) would be a definite consolation.

Humans. Nothing but trouble, the lot of them. And more of them keep infesting my nice orderly Hubstation. They breed like vermin, that’s the problem. He shuddered as the fourth baby made its way down the birth canal.

* * * *

It was a long way from Hubstation 3742 to the Shell that contained the Hub itself. The inner habitat rings were reserved for the more prominent or ancient species within the Hub Network, while junior worlds like Earth got relegated to the more remote, crowded outer rings. A Hub scout like Nashira got priority clearance, but still it took a good twenty minutes for Nashira’s Hubdiver, the Starship Entropy, to reach the Shell. David didn’t mind, since it gave him plenty of time to drink in the gorgeous view of the galaxy’s Central Bulge filling half the sky.

The view within the Shell was almost as spectacular, a kilometers-wide spherical space filled with the elaborate tracks and launch rails that propelled ships on their finely calibrated dive vectors into the Hub itself at the center. David continued to be amazed at the precision of the Shell’s technology, necessary since the tiniest error in angle or velocity could send a ship to the wrong galaxy altogether; but he was glad he didn’t need it. His mission—well, Nashira’s mission, with him tagging along—was to deliberately take those unknown vectors that others tried to avoid. Which was so much cooler than sticking to the known routes. He just wished he could get Nashira to appreciate that. He’d switch places with her in a second—if he knew the first thing about piloting spaceships.

“I keep telling you, there’s nothing glamorous about it,” Nashira insisted. He hadn’t said anything; she must’ve seen the look in his eyes as he watched her working the controls. “I just punch in the numbers they assign me and hope they don’t come out in the middle of a star. I dive in, I climb out, I dive in again. I’m a bloody elevator operator.”

“Yeah, but what an elevator!” She glared, and David figured he should’ve refined that metaphor a little more.

The voice of Nashira’s supervisor came over the radio. “Please try to stick to the assigned vectors today, Scout Wing,” Vekredi said. “I’ve received more complaints about your . . . improvisations. Any more and there will be penalties.”

“Shouldn’t you be on maternity leave, Kred?” Nashira asked. “Your office is no place for nursing babies.”

Indeed, David could hear peeping and suckling sounds over the speaker, followed by an offended snuffling from Vekredi. “Just . . . follow the assigned schedule, Scout Wing! That is an order! Out.”

“How rude,” Rynyan said. “One should always be courteous to one’s inferiors.”

Nashira threw him a glare, then smirked. “That explains it, then. Nobody’s got more inferiority than Kred.”

“So you want to ditch the plan anyway?” David ventured.

Nashira grinned at him, a refreshing change from her usual scowls. “Just to screw with him?” She thought about it. “Nah. Not worth the penalties. Almost, though.” She punched in the first vector, and the launch rail obligingly maneuvered the Entropy into position. In the viewing wall, the ships and equipment within the Shell wheeled dizzyingly, but the Hub itself, that strange, faintly glowing pucker of spacetime that David’s eyes refused to focus on no matter how hard he tried, remained a fixed, unchanging point, the fulcrum around which galaxies revolved in more ways than one.

“Get your gizmos ready, we go in sixty,” Nashira said. She glanced over as David activated the gravity sensor. “I thought you’d given up on that.”

“I changed my mind. I was thinking about the Hub last night, how it’s the center of mass of the Milky Way, its satellite galaxies, and its dark-matter halo.”

Nashira sighed. “Just say ‘greater galaxy’ like everyone else.”

“Well, I thought about how an object acts like all its matter is concentrated at the center of mass. And the Hub acts like every point in the . . . the greater galaxy is concentrated in it. I think there’s got to be a link there. Something to do with mass.”

“Congratulations,” Nashira said. “You’ve just discovered the first, most obvious theory that every civilization in history has come up with about the Hub. Only took you six weeks.”

“Well, maybe they just gave up on it too easily.”

“Or it’s a dead end. Everyone agrees it’s part of why the Hub exists, but it doesn’t explain the link between vectors and destinations. If it’s all clumped together, it should be random, not consistent for the same vector.” She stared at him. “How can you be determined to learn the Hub’s secrets and not know something this basic?”

“I didn’t want to be trapped by past assumptions.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, brilliant. This way you just repeat everyone else’s failures. That’s much better.”

“Or try something they never thought of.”

“I’ll give you that. No genius in history has ever thought like you. Fifteen seconds.”

David stared into the Hub, in awe of its cosmic centrality. Despite his outward confidence, Nashira’s words were sobering. How could he believe that a college dropout from the backwater of the galaxy could succeed where so many advanced civilizations had failed?

Because there are no backwaters, he reminded himself. Every point in nine galaxies is in there—all of them one, all of them equal. The Hub is inside me. I’m inside it. So I’m as worthy as anybody to figure it out.

“Here we go,” Nashira said. “Last chance to make your peace with the Universe.”

David smiled at her. “I’m good.” She blinked, genuinely surprised.

Then Rynyan ruined the mood. “No problem. The Universe and I are mutual fans.”

Nashira sighed as the ship thrust forward into the center of all things . . .

And the alarms sounded. “Christ, we’re in a gravity well!”

“Of what?” David cried.

“Won’t matter unless we make orbital vee,” she said, regaining the calm of a seasoned pilot. The fusion engines fired, pressing them back in their seats. Whatever they were trying to orbit was behind them, out of sight, and Nashira was too busy to work the aft sensors. David took it upon himself to switch the view.

“Uhh . . . Nashira?”

“In a mo.”

“But—Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

“All right,” Nashira said after a moment, looking up toward the display wall. “The ship can take it fro—Holy Christ on a cassowary!”

The planet below them was beautiful. Its sunlit half was shining blue oceans and vivid turquoise forests. Its nighttime half was festooned with city lights. The display wall called out thousands of satellites and stations in orbit. An inhabited, spacefaring civilization—the find of a lifetime for any Hub scout. “Nashira!” David cried. “This is—”

“Don’t,” Nashira said. “This can’t be what it seems.”

“But look, it’s right there!”

“No, you don’t get it. A Hub scout’s lucky to make one major find in a lifetime. Two in as many months? No sodding way can that happen!”

“It’s random. It’s as likely as anything else.” He smiled. “Maybe Rynyan and I are good luck charms.”

“Rynyan.” She whirled on the Sosyryn. “Don’t you dare leave this cockpit! I will break your legs before I let you steal another claim!”

But Rynyan was staring at the planet on the display wall. “Much as I love it when you get physical with me, my dear, I think the Ziovris would be rather annoyed if I tried to stake a claim.”

“What have the Ziovris got to do with this?” Nashira asked. David recognized the name from news reports, a fairly prominent species in the Hub Network, but couldn’t recall the specifics.

“Oh, you know how they are about their property. It totally ruined my charity expedition here a few decades back. They nationalized all my donations! The Migration Bureau said they’d decide when and how to distribute it. So come tallying season I could only report one recipient from the whole expedition! It was a huge embarrassment. I was the laughing stock of all Rysos.” He smiled. “Luckily Vnebnil was struck by that asteroid the following year. A prime donating opportunity there, and I was quick to get in on the ground floor.”

Nashira glared at him. “I’m happy for you that all those people died so you could improve your social standing, but can we stay on topic? Where are we?”

“Why, the Ziovris homeworld, of course.”

Nashira stared at the world on the viewer. Then she dove for the controls and spent several minutes verifying Rynyan’s claim. “No, this . . . this can’t be. I mean . . . no way could I make a find this great!” She was starting to grin despite herself.

But David was confused. “How can it be a great find if it’s already in the Hub Network?”

“Damn, you really are from the middle of nowhere. And so’s the Ziovris Hubpoint. It’s thousands of AUs out in their cometary cloud. Months from here.”

“Terribly inconvenient,” Rynyan added. “Cold sleep simply ruins the sheen of my mane. That’s the other reason I wouldn’t want to claim this place. Oh, and the service? Simply terrible. I mean, sure, building a mega-structure out at the Hubpoint and mobilizing the whole population to move there can be distracting, but it’s simply no excuse for poor hospitality.”

Nashira rolled her eyes. “Mr. Sensitive here’s right about one thing. That remote Hubpoint’s been rough on the Ziovris. Uprooting their whole civilization, sinking all their resources into the move . . . the strict rules they have to follow to keep that huge migration running smoothly . . . it’s no way to live.” She beamed. “Can you imagine what it’ll mean to these people to gain a second Hubpoint practically right on their orbit?”

“Yeah,” David breathed. A Hubpoint was a species’ one and only link to the wealth and wonders of the galaxy. Hub contact had transformed Earth, bringing resources and technologies that offered greater prosperity than humanity had ever known—though far too gradually, at least until humanity could prove it had something to offer in return and become a genuine trading partner rather than a charity case. He recalled the long, expensive commute to Sol’s Hubpoint just outside Saturn’s orbit, and could understand why the Ziovris would be willing to relocate to their far more remote Hubpoint, as numerous other civilizations had in the past. But what might they give to be spared the trouble? “Nashira, this is great! You’ll be rich! No, better, you’ll be a hero!” Brightening, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “A human being finding something this important—Nashira, you’ve put us on the map!”

She blushed. “Well . . . you’ll get your share of the fame too.”

“I don’t want fame for me. Just for humanity.”

“Typical.” She chuckled and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull away her hand.

Then the alarms sounded again. Nashira spun to the controls. “Incoming ship! It’s a military cruiser! They’ve got a laser lock on us, warning strength!”

“Quick, get us out of here!” Rynyan cried. “Especially me!”

“I can’t! We’ve waited too long, the return beam’s shut off! And there’s no time to signal for a new one!” That meant the Hubpoint was closed. They couldn’t go anywhere except on the Entropy’s fusion drive, which was far less powerful than the warship’s engines. “Bollocks!” Nashira cursed. “I knew this was too good to be true!”

A hail came in and Nashira accepted it promptly, not wishing to cause trouble. The being that appeared on the viewer had an upright body plan similar to a human’s or Sosyryn’s, but David could see other crewbeings in the background with four legs apiece, a forward-facing pair stacked atop a shorter rear-facing pair. Their skin was vivid blue and they bore elongated heads that resembled claw hammers from the side. “This is Commander Relniv of the regulatory enforcement vessel Mzinlix,” intoned the officer in the foreground. “Your presence in Ziovris orbital space is irregular, undocumented, and unauthorized. Identify yourselves and justify your departure from procedure.”

“This is Nashira Wing of the Hubdiver Starship Entropy. I’m a Hub scout, Commander.”

“No, you’re not. No arrivals from the Hubpoint are scheduled. And your craft is not equipped for a journey of that duration.”

“We didn’t come from that Hubpoint, Commander.” Nashira trembled with barely restrained excitement. “You’re recording this, right? Well, I hereby inform you that I, Nashira Wing, Hub scout Blue 662 Red 769—”

“Of Earth,” David interposed.

“—have just discovered a new Hubpoint in proximity to Ziovris’s orbit.”

Relniv stared. “What? No. You’ve discovered no such thing. I say again, justify your departure from procedure or—”

“No, ma’am, I swear.” How Nashira could tell Relniv was female was beyond David. “The Hubpoint’s closed now, but if you’ll just let me send a quantelope signal back to the Hub, they’ll reopen the vector and you can see the return beam for yourself.”

“No unauthorized communications will be permitted. I have the authorization to fire upon you should you attempt it!”

“Um, excuse me,” David put in. “Hi. David LaMacchia, also of Earth. Don’t you see what this means, uh, ma’am? You have a Hubpoint right next to your planet now!”

“No,” Relniv interjected. “Just stop it. Cease these absurd claims at once.”

“I don’t get it,” David said. “I thought you’d be happy.”

Rynyan stepped forward. “Here, I know how to handle this.” He faced the Ziovris commander and gave her the Sosyryn equivalent of a smarmy grin. “Hello. I am Rynyan Zynara ad Surynyyyyyy’a, and I just want to say that whatever dole your government allots to you, it isn’t nearly enough, and I’d be happy to supplement it in exchange for your not shooting us. And may I also say you look very sexually desirable in that nice crisp uniform?”

“Rynyan!” Nashira pulled him away from the viewer and got in front of him. “Just ignore him, he’s not with us, really. Look, no tricks, no bribes, just let me send one little ‘lope message, please.”

“The policy on intruders in Ziovris airspace is very clear—no communication allowed.”

“Why? Who could we contact that would hurt you? If there weren’t a known Hubpoint nearby, then—”

“Wait.” Relniv took on the distant look of someone listening to a comm implant. “I’ve received orders to secure your vessel and escort you to the surface. Do not attempt to disobey our instructions or the penalties will be severe.”

“Okay, okay. We don’t want any—”

“And you will discuss this with no one.” Relniv paused, listening to her comm again. “What? Me? Sorry, I thought you meant . . . no, of course I won’t discuss . . . but why . . .” She straightened. “Understood. Out.” She sighed, looking thoughtful, maybe confused. It was hard to read a new species’ expressions, but caution and hesitation could be recognized in most species’ body language. Another common manifestation was a startled jump, which Relniv performed when she noticed that Nashira and the others were still watching her. “You didn’t hear that!” she barked, and cut off the transmission.

* * * *

Nashira was expecting a prison cell. So when Commander Relniv and her soldiers deposited them in a luxury hotel suite larger than Hubstation 3742’s entire scout staging area, lavishly appointed with all the comforts she could imagine, it put her far more on edge.

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Rynyan said once their escort had left them alone. “They expect me to stay here? I have tool sheds larger than this.”

“Maybe they finally figured out this is good news and they’re thanking us,” David said.

Sometimes Nashira almost envied the kid for his simple idealism. Unfortunately, in practice it meant he’d probably get himself or others killed if she didn’t babysit him constantly. “The way they made sure we couldn’t contact anybody? More like they’re fattening us up for the kill.”

“Maybe they want it to be a surprise?”

Nashira just rolled her eyes.

“He has a point,” Rynyan said. “News like this should be announced with proper pomp and ceremony. Music, parades, fireworks, gourmet feasts . . . local females hurling themselves at the feet of the heroic discoverers . . . ahhh. You know, the one good thing about my last visit was that those four legs allow for some very interesting positions.”

“That much could be arranged,” came a new voice. Nashira whirled. A fat, well-dressed Ziovris male stood in the doorway, flanked by Relniv and her guards. He had the look of a being that was well fed, lazy, prone to overindulgences of all kinds, and dependent on advanced medicine to ease the ravages of that lifestyle. “Stay outside,” he told Relniv.

“But, sir—”

He whirled on her, surprisingly fast for one of his bulk. “Did you say ‘but’?”

Relniv lowered her elongated head. “No, sir.”

“Of course you didn’t.” The fat male stepped inside, the door closing behind them. “Greetings. I am Cerou Gamrios, and on behalf of the Ziov Union I formally apologize for your cold welcome to Renziov. We would be happy to compensate you for your inconvenience. However, the . . . proper avenue for such compensation is not as, ah, public as you suggest.”

“What the hell?” Nashira asked. “We just found a Hubpoint, mister. One practically right next to your planet.”

“No, Scout Wing, you did not.”

“Yes, we did! Don’t you understand what this discovery means for your people?”

“I understand better than you, Scout Wing. And I assure you, you have not discovered a Hubpoint.”

“Look, stop it, Ballpeenhead! I’m sick of the bureaucratic doublespeak!”

He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “And rest assured you will be richly rewarded for that non-discovery.”

She blinked. “I’m listening.”

“Nashira!” David cried.

“Why would you reward us for not helping your people?” Rynyan asked. “And more importantly, why didn’t you compensate me the last time you stole credit for my aid?!”

“But you would be helping our people,” Gamrios said. “You saw how distraught Commander Relniv was at the very suggestion of a new Hubpoint. Can you imagine that multiplied across our entire population?”

“But with a more convenient Hubpoint,” Rynyan said, “you’d have no more of those nasty long commutes, those pathetic cubbyholes you call homes . . .”

“And you wouldn’t need to waste all those resources on the move,” David put in before Rynyan could make things any worse.

“Waste?” Gamrios asked. “The Union has spent a generation organizing the most efficient, streamlined relocation of a planetary population in the history of the Network. Every move has been precisely calculated to optimize resources and energy. An entire planetary economy, infrastructure, and social order all completely devoted to a single massive undertaking, all executed with a discipline and commitment that makes the Ziovris the envy of the Network! Our people have dedicated their lives, not to mention their resources, to that undertaking. To systematically pack away an entire planet’s wealth, technology, architecture, art, historical documents, flora, fauna, even the occasional natural wonder, and smoothly, economically relocate it all to our new world.

“If that great flow were interrupted, if we tried to halt or reverse its momentum, the waste would be unconscionable! Not only the waste of energy, the waste of time, the waste of resources—but the waste of our people’s pride and dedication! Imagine the despair that would bring! To leave the great work unfinished—just because we don’t need to do it? Unconscionable!”

“So you just keep on living in a police state for no reason?” David asked.

“Our discipline and self-sacrifice are reason in themselves. They give every one of us a purpose, a role to play in the great work. If a closer Hubpoint were found, then all of that meaning and structure, that sense of higher purpose, would be torn away, and what would be left to believe in?”

“How about the truth?” David said.

“Now, David,” Nashira said. “The way I see it, everyone’s entitled to their own belief systems.”

“Nashira, they’re trying to bribe us into lying!”

“There’s no lie and no bribe,” Gamrios said cheerfully. “You did not discover that Hubpoint, and you will do our people a great service by not claiming its discovery.” He went on before David could formulate a protest. “Just as I did them a service when I did not claim its discovery.”

Nashira stared. “What?”

The fat Ziovris sighed. “As a youth, I chafed against the disciplines of our society and left home for the Hub in search of a new life. But thanks to my limited means, there was no place for me there save the role of Hub scout. Maybe it was before your time, or maybe our paths simply never crossed; yours is such a minor species, no offense.” David fumed, but Nashira ignored it. “And one day, I took a dive through the Hub and found myself . . . home. Oh, Renziov was at a different point in its orbit, so I didn’t arrive right above it as you did, but I knew my own sun, my own starscape.”

“Wait.” Nashira frowned. “They wouldn’t send me on a known vector.”

“Oh, they didn’t.” Gamrios trundled toward the window, gazing out at the gorgeous, sunlit oceanscape beyond. “I was filled with excitement at first. A convenient Hubpoint for Renziov! It would change everything. It would make me rich enough to get out of the life, famous enough to write my own ticket back home. I went back to the quantelope tank to report . . . and on the way, it hit me.”

“What did?”

“Why, the sheer unlikelihood that I would emerge next to my own homeworld. That of all the scouts in the Hub, it was a Ziovris who found the Hubpoint near Renziov. That couldn’t be random chance. That was order. Of all the scouts who could have discovered such a Hubpoint, the Universe chose the one scout who would understand the importance of keeping it undiscovered. I couldn’t deny the synchronicity of that. I, Cerou Gamrios, had my own special role to play within the Great Migration. Even in my attempt at defiance, I had served the cause without knowing it.

“And once I recognized that, I understood how wrong it would be to disrupt that order. I realized how much our society depended on this grand, organized project in which every citizen, myself included, had a part to play. What is the Hub compared to that? The Network is too big, too expansive, too chaotic. The individual is lost in the shuffle. But here, everything fits together, everything makes sense, and everyone is needed in the great work. I couldn’t take that away from my people by reporting what I’d found.”

“Didn’t you think your people deserved a say in that?” David pressed.

“Oh, they did. The Hubpoint beam on my arrival was detected by a nearby mining vessel and a regulatory enforcer. Independently, they both hailed me and begged me to tell them they hadn’t seen what they thought they’d seen—that the commitment and sacrifices we’ve made still had meaning. I was happy to confirm that it was merely a glitch in my comm laser.”

Gamrios straightened, insofar as his bulbous frame allowed. “Of course, this left me with a dilemma, for I could never return to the Hub. But as you can see,” he went on, gesturing at the suite around them, “patriotism can have very tangible rewards. Those who became aware of my service to the Great Migration were happy to compensate me for my loss of employment. I was given a new identity and a, ah, position commensurate with the value of my service. I finally advanced,” he said proudly, “but within the system, not despite it. Though I still have the Hub to thank.”

“Oh my God,” Nashira said. “Kred! That diu puk gai! He knew! He gave me a dead vector! He bloody tried to kill us!” She’d known a second discovery of this magnitude was too good to be true. It figured that it wasn’t her discovery after all.

“Yes, I was surprised to see another scout so soon,” Gamrios said. “That is my position in the system: to help ensure the continued non-discovery of the Hubpoint. It’s an easy job, true, given the, ah, years between attempts, but you can’t deny it’s an essential one. The second scout came through at roughly the expected time, so my department was able to intercept him before he could alert the Hub. Yes, we weren’t just sitting around earning a lavish state subsidy for nothing, we were ready.” He fidgeted. “True, we, ah, weren’t expecting the third for much longer, so no one can blame us for being a little slow on the response this time around. It’s, ah, quite fortunate that you happened to materialize in our orbital space so you could be intercepted promptly.”

“Fortunate for you, you mean,” Nashira said.

“And for you as well, if you have the sense to follow my lead.” He gestured out the window. “Look at it. All that vast, open beauty. Eventually there will be no one left on Renziov except for a very few who choose to remain isolated from the galaxy. And those few will have the resources of a whole world to divide among them. They will all be incredibly wealthy.”

“So we stay here where nobody will ever find us, and live in luxury for the rest of our lives?”

“Exactly. Your predecessor scout was offered the same arrangement and wisely accepted. We’ve had no complaints.”

Gamrios moved closer to her. “And why wouldn’t he? You know what the life of a scout is like as well as I do. The constant danger . . . the endless tedium . . . the meager rewards. Who wouldn’t give up that life in a heartbeat if offered something better? What loyalty do you owe to someone who tried sending you to your death?”

As her fellow scout held her eyes, Nashira found she couldn’t dismiss his words. Find a paradise planet and retire there without ever telling the boss? It was every Hub scout’s secret fantasy.

She smiled at Gamrios. “Why don’t you let me think about it for a while?” she said. Just because it was her fantasy, that didn’t mean she couldn’t milk it for all the Ziovris were worth.

* * * *

The suite’s facilities were indeed luxurious. Rynyan wasted no time sampling the food printer and the bar, while Nashira availed herself of a bathtub big enough to qualify as an Olympic pool. David left them to it. He needed to think for a while.

When Nashira came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel—a rather small one, since most Ziovris had slimmer frames than humans—she was indignant to find David leaning against the wall right outside the bathroom door. “What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, tightening her grip on the towel.

“Keeping watch,” he said. “In case Rynyan tried to peek at you or something.”

“Oh.” Her gaze softened. “That’s . . . really sweet.” She seemed to mean it, but she also seemed vaguely disappointed for some reason David couldn’t figure. Maybe she was just disappointed not to have something to yell about. She couldn’t let herself be happy or optimistic about anything. David liked to think he’d taught her a thing or two about hope over the past month, though. She smiled more these days than when they’d first met.

But David wasn’t in the mood to smile. For once, he felt he had to be the skeptical one. As she headed for her room, he stepped in her path. “Nashira, we have to talk.”

She held his gaze. “I’m listening.”

She was breathing heavily, her stare intense. David realized he was standing awfully close, probably making her nervous. He stepped back, looking away. “I . . . I mean after you get dressed.”

“Oh. Of course.” There was that weird sense of disappointment again. It was like she’d have been happier if he stayed in her personal space so she could be mad at him. She swept past him and into her room. She let the scant towel fall a little too soon, and he quickly looked away. He’d be a poor friend and partner if he let himself notice her in that way. And she’d probably kill him if she knew he’d seen her butt. He tried not to think about it.

But boy, she sure was fit.

Luckily, he had his concerns to keep him distracted. “Are you really going to go along with this?” he asked Nashira once she emerged, attired in a fetching blue dress that the suite’s fabricator must have made for her.

“Look around, kid,” she said with a laugh. “This is the good life! Everything I could ever want at my fingertips, a whole planet to wander around in without a lot of people to bother me, and best of all, no more daily risk of instant death or terminal boredom. No more Kred looking down his little rat nose at me.”

“But what about our quest? What about humanity?”

She fell back onto an enormous couch. “Your quest was a fantasy. Humanity’s got nothing new to offer the Network, and we’re lucky to get the charity we do. Things are decent now for folks back home; why make waves?”

“Because decent isn’t good enough. Because there’s a whole galaxy of wonders we deserve to be a part of.”

“Even so, you and I weren’t going to change things. You don’t know what you’re doing, and I don’t ruddy care.”

David sighed. “Do you care about the Ziovris? Is it really okay with you to get this kind of luxury in exchange for helping a government keep lying to its people?”

“That’s what governments do. They’re all scams to keep people in line.”

“No, they aren’t. Look at the Sosyryn. Everyone’s free and equal there.”

“That just means everyone’s in on the scam. They scam themselves into thinking their condescending charity gives meaning to their empty lives, and they scam rubes like you into thinking it makes them nobler than the rest of us.” She shook her head. “Do-gooders are just as self-serving as everyone else. They just get rewarded in ego points.” She leaned back and stroked the couch’s velvety contours. “Me, I’d rather get more tangible rewards.”

“Hmph,” said Rynyan, who’d wandered over after hearing his people mentioned. “You call this a reward? The minibar only serves eighty kinds of liquor. And I checked—they only have ten masseuses on call and only six will take their clothes off!”

“Oh, learn to rough it.”

“I ‘rough it’ quite enough slumming in your squalid little Hubstation. I want to go home!”

“And how are you going to arrange that, hmm?”

“Didn’t you see the way that female guard was looking at me?” Rynyan preened his feathery mane. “Leave it to me, I’ll persuade her to let us out of here.”

Nashira stood to face him, having some difficulty getting off the pillowy couch. “Try it and you’ll get us all in trouble!”

“Exactly,” David said. “We have to be united in this. We need you with us, Nashira. Please.”

“David, it’s okay. Just immerse yourself in the luxury and let it wash those pesky ideals away. You’ll be happier.”

“Would you really be happy here? What about . . . companionship? Human . . . companionship?”

She looked at him through lowered lashes, a rakish tilt to one brow. “That could be arranged.”

“How? By having the suite fabricate a man for you? Get real, Nashira!”

“Oh, the hell with you!” she cried, turning to stride away. “Go on, try to escape, get your arse thrown in prison for all I care.”

“We’re already in prison.” That froze her in her tracks. David went to her, turning her around and gripping her bare shoulders. “Look, you’re the one always complaining about a Hub scout’s life. How oppressed and hopeless you are. This whole world’s like that. Every Ziovris is living the life you want to get away from. Worse—a life that people would take up Hub scouting to escape.”

“It’s what they’ve chosen. It matters to them.”

“It what they’ve learned to settle for,” David countered. “Because they’ve lost hope that things can change. Because they’re afraid to let themselves believe there can be a better life.”

He clasped her hands, looking deep into her eyes. “Do you really want to be like them, Nashira? At least in the Hub, you have a chance. You have something to strive for. To hope for. Are you really ready to give that up?”

After a moment, she turned away, storming over to the picture window to gaze out at the blazing, gorgeous sunset. “You are so . . . damn . . . selfless. Didn’t say a word about what you wanted, didn’t try to get me to do it for you.” She whirled. “It’s not fair, you know. Makes me feel inadequate for being selfish.”

“You’re not selfish, Nashira. You just want a better life. We all do. Including the Ziovris.”

She winced and clenched her fists, letting out a shriek. “Okay, then. Let’s do this before I bloody change my mind. Or just strangle you.”

“Great!” David cried. “On to freedom!”

She rolled her eyes. “But I’m keeping the damn dress.”

Rynyan’s plan to seduce the guard proved disturbingly successful. Nashira couldn’t understand why a self-respecting female of any species would fall for his bald advances. But it didn’t take Rynyan long at all to talk the guard into trying out the bathtub with him while allowing the humans to slip away. Maybe the Ziovris were just too accustomed to being submissive, and the guard had responded to the Sosyryn’s air of superiority and entitlement. Not that Rynyan would see it that way; to him, he was doing the guard a favor. Better her than me, Nashira thought. And then she tried very hard not to think about it anymore.

Which just led her to think about her own sexual prospects. “That could be arranged?” What was I thinking? A lifetime here with David as my only possible lover? Okay, he was reasonably cute in a lost-puppy kind of way . . . and sweet . . . and generous . . . and kind . . . and sometimes when he gazed into her eyes and made those passionate, idealistic speeches, it stirred something inside her that she thought she’d lost a long time ago . . . but no. He was pure man-child. Completely immature, and not even in the fun way. Her flirtations had gone right over his head; even flashing her bum hadn’t gotten a rise. She must’ve been desperate even to try it—so blinded by the wealth and luxury Gamrios offered that she forgot how much she’d miss the company of real men. The hell with the plight of the Ziovris people—she was escaping in the name of getting well and properly laid ever again.

Not to mention the reward for finding the new Hubpoint. It might not be wealth as endless as what Gamrios had been peddling, but she could still come out of this a rich woman.

And, okay, helping the Ziovris throw off the yoke of oppression would be nice too. It wasn’t like she had anything against them.

Though when they reached the door to the quantelope shack and Commander Relniv emerged with her firearm pointed right at Nashira’s chest, she began to rethink that opinion.

“Why are you here?” Relniv asked.

“Us? Oh, nothing, we were just . . . looking for the gym.” Nashira shut herself up before she said anything stupider.

So naturally David did it for her. “We’re trying to escape, Commander. Holding us here is wrong.”

“No,” Relniv said. “I mean, why are you here?” She gestured around at the luxurious facility. “Why would they take you to this place?” Nashira belatedly recognized the dismay and confusion in the commander’s alien features. “If you were lying about a new Hubpoint, why would they reward you?”

“Because we’re not lying,” David said. “They are. And they don’t want us to tell anyone.”

“No.” The crests at the rear of her head quivered in negation. “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me there’s no Hubpoint. Tell me there’s some other reason you’re here. It has to be a lie!”

David frowned. “Why?”

Relniv stared at him. “The system exists for a purpose. I have my own role to play, my duties to fulfill, and there’s a reason for it all. There has to be. If there isn’t . . . if there’s a closer Hubpoint and we don’t have to migrate after all . . . then all the sacrifices I’ve made . . .” She looked away. “All the sacrifices I’ve . . . enforced . . . will have been for nothing. For a lie. My whole life . . . it will have been meaningless.”

David stepped closer and did that sincere thing with his face. “It doesn’t have to be,” he told Relniv. “You can give your life a new meaning. A better meaning. Help us help your people.”

Relniv’s weapon hand wavered and lowered. Nashira’s first impulse was to knock it out of her hand, punch her lights out, and step over her trembling body to get to the quantelopes. Somehow, though, she found herself waiting, giving David’s way a chance to work.

“But what would happen?” Relniv asked. “It would be chaos. We’ve already shipped out so many of us, so much of what we have. If that movement stopped . . . it would be so hard to reverse it, to get things back.”

“That’s what Mr. Gamrios said,” David replied. “But it seems to me, there’s a Hubpoint here and there’s a Hubpoint out there.” He shrugged. “Maybe you’re far apart the normal way, but you’re right next door the Hub way. So you don’t have to stop or reverse anything. Just keep going forward, then bring it right back around through the back door.

“Or some of you could stay out there and others could stay here. You’d be only moments apart through the Hub. Okay, hours. Maybe days, if it’s really busy. But that’s better than months. There’d be no need to fight over where to live. You’d still be one society.”

Relniv still hesitated. “But the great machine . . . it has so much inertia. There are so many who won’t want things to change . . . or who won’t know how. They’ll resist—by force if necessary.”

“Not to worry!” It was Rynyan, who’d arrived behind them, smelling of what Nashira hoped was just his species’ version of sweat. “The Sosyryn would be glad to exert our diplomatic clout toward ensuring a smooth transition. If all your bureaucrats are as fond of bribery as Mister Gamrios, it should be easy enough. And I personally will be happy to see to the needs of any Ziovris who fall victim to whatever social upheavals may result in the meantime.” His mane trembled with his excitement. “That will more than make up for my last visit here,” he told Nashira. “I knew the Universe would make amends for that little embarrassment in time.”

Relniv had mercifully ignored that last part, squeezing her eyes shut as she wrestled with her conscience. Finally she met David’s eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this. All my life, I’ve known my purpose, had my place prepared for me. If I do this, I have no idea what will lie ahead.”

David smiled. “I know that feeling. I’ve felt it every day since I left home for the Hub.”

“And . . . how do you endure it?”

“Endure it? I love it! Where’s the fun in a story where you always know what happens next?”

Relniv looked confused, but there was something contagious about David’s enthusiasm. “This will violate so many regulations . . . they’ll send me to an asteroid mine for the rest of my life.”

“You can come with us. There’s a whole universe out there.”

She looked tempted, but finally said, “No. This is my home. I’ll take my chances. And maybe . . . maybe those regulations won’t apply anymore.” She looked shocked at even being able to formulate the concept—but excited that she had.

David clasped her hand and they went into the quantelope shack together. Nashira couldn’t resist glancing back at Rynyan, though. “The way you talked about it, I thought you and that lady guard would be at it a lot longer.”

Rynyan puffed out his chest and his mane. “My dear, when you’re as skilled in the arts of sex as I am, you don’t need long at all.”

* * * *

Soon after Nashira notified the Hub of her discovery—and her distress—a flotilla of ships belonging to the Mkubnir, one of the species that cooperated in overseeing Hub Network security, emerged through the new Hubpoint, revealing its existence for all to see. The escapees were soon intercepted by Gamrios’ forces, but the bloated bureaucrat had already been warned by the Mkubnir that no harm must come to the Hub scout or her passengers. Nashira enjoyed watching him squirm as he offered to escort them back to the Starship Entropy.

The only thing better was the look on Mokak Vekredi’s face when she stormed into his office back at the Hubstation. The hermaphrodite was nursing “his” babies when she charged in, and he squawked and ducked behind the desk—whether to hide the evidence of Verzhik prolificacy or merely to hide from her wrath was unclear. “Scout Wing! You should not be in here without invitation!”

“Stow it, Kred. Be glad your babies are here, since they’re the only thing keeping me from ripping your little buckteeth out. I took a look at the dive logs when I got back, did some digging to find out how a dormant vector got on my dive schedule, and guess whose authorization code I found on the system access.”

Kred trembled in fear, peeping almost as pathetically as the babies. “I was only following orders, Scout Wing!”

She waved it aside. “Of course you were. That’s all you know how to do.” She strode forward to stand before his desk, gazing intimidatingly down at his hunkered form. “It doesn’t bother me so much that you tried to kill me—again. That’s more or less in your job description. But going after civilians is another matter.

“So you tell your Dosper bosses: I’m willing to keep quiet about their attempt on our lives. Everybody’s so thrilled about the new Ziovris Hubpoint—no sense ruining that with a scandal. But only if they leave David and me alone.” She paused. “And Rynyan, I guess. Anything happens to us, those access records gets released. Got it?”

“I-I will convey that information.”

“Good.” She flopped back into a chair and put her feet up on his desk. “Now, there’s the little matter of my finder’s fee to talk about.” It sent an almost sexual thrill through Nashira to say it. The reporters were already calling this the find of the century, or whatever units they used. Between that and her blackmail power, she could make enough from this to leave the Hub scout life behind forever and never have to put up with David LaMacchia and Rynyan again.

But David will be lost without you, she told herself.

Shut up. I’ll hire him a babysitter.

But Kred was straightening up and gaining more confidence than he should have at this point in the conversation. In fact, he even seemed to be doing the Verzhik equivalent of smiling. “What . . . fee . . . would that be, Ms. Wing?”

“No games, Kred!”

“Ah, for the record, Ms. Wing.”

She leaned forward and spoke slowly and loudly. “My bonus for discovering the new Ziovris Hubpoint.”

Kred continued to smile. “As I understand it, that Hubpoint was actually discovered by a Ziovris scout some seventeen years ago.”

“Who forfeited his rights by failing to report it. I reported it, so I get the reward!”

“Ah, I see. Here is the crux of your misunderstanding: To receive a Hubpoint discovery bonus from the Hub administration, one must be acting in the capacity of a Hub scout.”

Nashira stared in disbelief. “Hello? Who’ve you been calling ‘Scout Wing’ all this time?”

“A temporary error, Ms. Wing, arising from my distress. You see, when you failed to report after your initial dive yesterday, I naturally followed proper procedure and had you declared dead.”

She gaped. “What? I’m dead?”

“At the moment, yes.” He tilted his head. “Technically, I shouldn’t even be speaking to you. It could constitute either evidence of mental illness or an inappropriate on-duty religious observance.”

“Kred!”

“And since you were therefore not a Hub employee—or even legally a person—at the time the new Ziovris Hubpoint was reported, it has been classed as a Ziovris discovery that went unreported due to negligence and fell into default. Thus, the Dosperhag have claimed it as a windfall. All profits from its discovery go to the Hub administration. Which, naturally, will set aside a generous reserve thereof for investment in the restoration of the Ziovris economy. After all, we are all neighbors in the Network.”

Nashira shot to her feet. “So I get nothing? Not even credit for finding it?” To her surprise, she felt angrier on David’s behalf than hers. Having humans make this discovery wouldn’t have counted for as much as he thought—any moron in a Hubdiver could’ve done the same—but it would’ve been good publicity, at least.

“You get to live, Ms. Wing, and to be left alone by the Dosperhag. Count yourself fortunate.”

“And what if I threaten to expose what I know if I don’t get what’s owed me?”

Kred leaned forward, carefully sheltering his nursing young in his arms. “Understand, Ms. Wing. The Dosperhag have the resources of the entire Hub Network at their disposal. Any evidence you have, they can counter or eradicate. I believe they can be persuaded to leave you and your . . . colleagues alone in exchange for avoiding a public scandal, but if you create such a scandal, they will punish you, and you will end up wishing you had not returned from that dive.”

Nashira was sobered. They had her totally beaten, coming and going. She would kill David for convincing her to leave Renziov, if she didn’t feel so bad for him right now. Though she was sure he’d get over it quickly and find hope in his next lunatic scheme. And Rynyan, as usual, had come out ahead on the whole deal. So as usual, Nashira Wing was the only one who got screwed—and not in the fun way.

Kred looked at her with feigned sympathy. “I understand this is difficult for you, Ms. Wing. If it would help, you could always apply for the Hub scout position left vacant by your tragic death . . .”

(EDITOR’S NOTE: The Hub appeared earlier in “The Hub of the Matter” [March 2010].)

Copyright © 2010 Christopher L. Bennett