“Sorry,” Grady said, fanning his hand. “Still processing how much a lot of things are different in this dimension.” He met her gaze and added, “Doesn’t matter. We still have a job to do. Our responsibility is to find Fidelon and, with his help, get back to where we belong. Our duty is to the IC, our IC, not the one here. This isn’t our war, as much as it pains me to say it. We can’t get involved.”
Zoe seemed about to disagree, her countenance clouding over, when the door slid open without warning and Mbeki gasped, reaching for his sidearm. A tall, barrel-chested, ebony-skinned man stood at the entrance. His gray, piercing eyes scanned the room, narrowing when they came to rest on the sergeant. “So, it’s true,” the newcomer said in a rich baritone voice. “I have a doppelgänger.” His tone gained a hostile edge as he took a step into the room, a laser rifle gripped in his hands, finger resting on the trigger guard. “Or an imposter.”
“Easy, Master Sergeant,” said an accented voice from the corridor with a chuckle, the speaker obscured by the beefy trooper. “Let’s hear what they wish to tell us before jumping to, how you say, conclusions. You can shoot him afterward, if that is still your desire.”
The alternate Mbeki scowled, lowering his weapon. “As you wish, Chief.” He moved to one side, eyes locked on his counterpart, who returned the glare, his hand still hovering over his pistol. “Stand down, Sergeant,” Grady said. “That’s an order. No one’s shooting anyone, understood? We’re among friends here, even if they don’t know it yet.”
“That remains to be seen.” The unseen speaker now strode into the room, trailed by a gangly, fair-haired, freckle-faced man in his early twenties.
Despite the tension in the air, Grady broke into a broad grin. “Commander Kotov,” he said, thrusting out his hand. He caught sight of the man’s collar and corrected himself. “My apologies, it’s Major Kotov here, I see. So you’re the mysterious chief. We haven’t met, not in this universe. But back where I come from, you and I are practically drinking buddies.”
11
Before the burly Russian could respond, Grady placed his hand over a front pocket of his flight jacket. “May I?” The alternate Mbeki tensed and seemed about to raise his laser rifle in a threatening move. Kotov grunted, smoothing his prominent mustache, and waved him away. “Proceed, Captain.” At Grady’s surprised expression, he added, “Da. No need for amazement. Or introductions. My second-in-command, Captain Lorcan, has already briefed me on who you each are. Or claim to be.”
With a careful motion, Grady extracted a slim handheld, activated it, swiped and tapped at the screen before raising the device so Kotov could view it. “You’re looking at a publicity shot of New Heb’s governing council—the one where we come from, that is. The smiling guy on the far-right ought to be familiar.”
Kotov eyed the screen, and his face cracked into a broad grin as he peered at the image. He chortled. “My mustache is fuller, and not so nicotine stained. Bah. Bad habit. I quit years ago. He should too.”
Grady resisted the temptation to laugh. It was beginning to dawn on him that the man was keeping an open mind concerning the provenance of Adventurer and her crew. For his part, he had no skepticism about who he was facing. This Kotov looked much the same as the person he last saw on vid-conference after the successful mission to rescue the captives from Cavalier outpost. He presented the same tall, florid-faced, husky figure, perhaps not so heavy in the gut as the one Grady was familiar with and liked. Best of all, to Grady’s great relief, his ebullient, friendly personality was just like that of his lookalike. It was Kotov, no question. Now he had to hope he could persuade the sector’s rebel leader he was speaking the truth.
Kotov glanced from him to the other three members of Adventurer’s crew and passengers who were present, his penetrating gaze missing nothing. “You weren’t expecting me, so I see. That is good. When Phil commed me about you, I asked him to say nothing of who the chief—as they call me hereabouts—is, so I can gauge reactions.”
Before Grady could respond, he made a dismissive gesture and continued. “Yet I detect from your expressions that you know me, or believe you do. Da?” He paused, as if weighing his next words. “Let me make clear. I have never set eyes on any of you in person before now.” His gaze shifted to Chalmers. “Though one of you has received considerable coverage in the pan-galactic media of late, rebellion or no. Is that not so, Doctor? Or is it Professor?”
“Professor,” Chalmers said. “At least where I come from.” She frowned, her demeanor betraying confusion regarding her apparent fame in this reality. Or was it infamy?
“You appear baffled, Professor,” Kotov said, his grin not lessening. “No matter. We’ll get to that soon enough.” He moved further into the room and added, “The two marines recognize each other, is obvious. Master Sergeant Mbeki—that’s the one with the goatee and not the clean-shaven soldier glaring daggers at him—is my chief of security. And, last but not at all least, this is my tech guru, Gordy. He has some intriguing information to share with you. Please, let everyone be seated, yes? We have much to discuss.”
With that, he settled onto a chair and rested his hands on the table in front of him. Grady, Zoe, and Chalmers took this as a signal to take a seat, while Gordy remained standing at the front of the room. The two Mbekis, meanwhile, continued sizing each other up.
“They’re not going to start brawling, are they?” Chalmers asked with a quaver in her voice.
“All in order, Master Sergeant?” Kotov said, his bushy eyebrows rising in tandem.
“Yes, sir,” goateed Mbeki said, not relaxing his stance as he faced his double.
“No unpleasantness, gentlemen,” Kotov added, nodding toward the entrance where the same trio of well-armed troopers stood just outside the room. “I prefer not to throw anyone in brig, but will if I have to—understood?”
“Sergeant, why not sit?” Grady said, gesturing at an empty chair.
“I’d prefer to stand, if it’s all the same to you, sir.”
Grady sighed and nodded. “Suit yourself. So long as I don’t have to bail you out from lockup later.”
“Not going to happen, Captain, I assure you.”
“Likewise, Major,” said the alternate reality Mbeki, evidently not to be outdone.
Kotov smirked and patted the arm of his chair. “Excellent, excellent.” He motioned to Gordy, who stood with his head tilted, hands by his side. “Now, my brainy young friend, please proceed.”
Sweeping his fingers across the curved patch on his left forearm, Gordy brought up a holo image displaying a series of wavy lines and accompanying text. He pointed at the image floating above the table. “After we received Captain Lorcan’s extraordinary comm detailing your assertion that you’re from a parallel universe, I ran some voice print and facial recognition comparisons. He sent me an extensive set of data following his encounter with you. The analysis results make for fascinating reading.” The tech expert seemed to be having a difficult time standing still, his body almost vibrating with what Grady took to be barely suppressed excitement.
“Enlighten us, if you would,” Kotov said, sitting back deeper into his chair.
“Well, uh, first, the question of Jack Grady,” said the young techie, indicating the captain. He manipulated the holo with easy strokes, bringing up two large graphs side-by-side. “The vocal assessment results are conclusive.” With a flick of his wrist, the charts merged, the lines flowing together without leaving a gap. “I compared the sample of Jack Grady’s voice in a personal vid provided by Captain Lorcan from his wedding celebration, with a recording made today when his squadron intercepted the gunship…” He paused, waiting as those seated around the table studied the holo, then gave a slight bow. “Tada. A perfect match.”
He rotated his hand, and a colorful, crowded chart took the place of the overlapping pair. “Ditto facial recognition.”
Kotov sat forward, tugging at the end of his mustache. “Can the results be fabricated?” He glanced at Grady. “No offense, Captain, but we have to be sure we know who, or what, we are dealing with.”
Gordy shook his head. “At a superficial level, yes, of course. But I ran a comprehensive suite of tests, searching for signs of deep fakery. I found nothing. Even a perfect clone, could such a thing exist, would show slight variations in vocal tone and resonance and physical characteristics at the quantum level.” He wiggled his fingers and bounced on his toes. “The two Jack Gradys are identical. So, unless they’re the most perfect twins ever, this man is a match to the one Captain Lorcan knew.” He coughed into his hand, adding, “The one who’s dead.”
“Exactly,” Kotov said, eyeing Grady. “You see our quandary, Captain. You’re either a surprisingly animated corpse, a zombie as some have suggested.” He slid Gordy an amused glance and quirked his eyebrow. “Or you’re who you claim you are, as outlandish as it sounds.”
“I understand how incredible it all seems, but everything we’ve told you and Captain Lorcan is the truth,” Grady said, his tone calm and unhurried. He sensed his crew and he were on trial, their fate, perhaps their lives, hanging by a thread. If Kotov believed their account of how they ended up in this alternate reality, then they would be accepted by him and the insurgents under his command. He chose not to think about the alternative. They needed to make allies here, not more enemies.
Kotov nodded and held up his hand. “There’s more.” He gesticulated toward the floating display. “Gordy, if you please, continue.”
“Ahem, yes,” said the tech specialist, bringing up a different holo and tilting his head toward Zoe. “I ran a search on each person whose ID your ship’s AI transmitted to Captain Lorcan. No hits for you in our military database, I’m afraid, nor anything in the public record.”
Zoe snorted and sent Grady an ‘I-told-you-so’ look. “I bet my double in this reality died on a remote battlefield some place. Probably listed as killed in action, or maybe just missing, by Earth Galactic’s military.”
“That’s possible,” Gordy said, squinting at the holo. “But, since we don’t have access to our enemy’s database of active or deceased personnel, we have no way of verifying your identification. Sorry.” He turned and gestured to the pair of dark-skinned soldiers standing behind him. “The two Mbekis, on the other hand, also appear to be an exact counterpart to each other, just like Captain Grady. Though I’d like to take DNA samples and compare the results to make certain.”
“No problem,” Grady said. “The sergeant would be happy to cooperate.” Mbeki’s stony countenance gave nothing away, but he was no longer glowering at his goateed double, and his hands were now clasped behind his back in a relaxed posture, well away from his pistol. The other Mbeki had placed his laser rifle against the wall, also seeming to accept the absence of an immediate threat from his duplicate or anyone else in the room.
