Ballerina Justice and the Bro-bots of Peace
Chapter 20: The Climax

Baker returned with two cups of coffee for his guests. They were a couple of strange ones who called themselves Tilly and Bite. Tilly did most of the talking, and Bite, heavily armed, scanned whatever room she was in constantly, as if looking for potential enemies. They had come after nightfall, sneaked into Baker’s hovel without his knowledge, held him at gunpoint, and interrogated him. Baker, however, wasn’t one to be easily broken, and refused to cooperate. It was not until they told him of their adventure with Jerry that he discovered they were friends.

They seemed to be here on some sort of mission to free the miners and destroy the robots – something about a new war that Baker was not entirely clear on. Baker hated watching the news, especially out in the colonies, and typically avoided it at all costs.

Tilly thanked Baker for the coffee, and Bite just waved him away as she looked out a window, gesturing to the table for him to put the cup down for her until she was ready for it.

Tilly continued to speak. “So really, the only thing we have missing is the best path to arm the miners without being detected. Then, with everyone armed, we can...”

“Wait, wait, wait. So you do have a transport?”

“Well...no...I mean...not exactly. I told you it’s....”

“I know,” Baker finished, “There’s a transport docked in for repairs, and it has room for all of us. But how are we supposed to get there? Crawl across the desert? All 214 of us? Or did you plan to fly us back there in your hovercar, four at a time. And even if we could get there, where would we go? You said yourself all human travel is restricted. Where can we land where they won’t arrest us all on sight?”

Tilly looked at Bite, and then down at the ground. Softly, he said, “I know the plan isn’t perfect. But if we don’t do something soon...”

“Not perfect?” Baker interrupted. “Not perfect? You’re going to get us all killed.”

Suddenly, there was an alarm on Baker’s vid-screen. “What the...” He looked over at Tilly. “You two had better make yourselves scarce. I’ve got a closet on the west wall that’s out of view. It’s the best I can do on short notice.” In moments they were gone, and Baker answered the vid.

“Who is it?”

The screen lit up with Ball’s face, apparently alone, a nondescript sitting room behind her. “Oh thank heaven. We had heard that some of the colonies were in rebellion, and didn’t know if we could replace you.”

“Ball?” Baker considered the implications. If Ball was calling him, she had made contact with Jerry. Otherwise, how would she know how to reach him here at the hovel? But if Jerry was underground, the Tru-bots would be monitoring calls, both his and Ball’s probably. He would have to be very careful. “It’s been a long time.” He stared hard at her, hoping she could read his thoughts.

“Listen, Cal, we don’t have much time. I’m with...”

“Please, Ball. I don’t need to know.”

“I was just going to say I was with my son...”

“Your son?”

“Yes, Cal. Twelve years old, and looks just like his father.”

“Well how about that. Your son.”

“He’s smart like his father, too, but he still lets me help him with his homework from time to time. Anyway, that’s what we were doing when we came across an interesting problem. We’ve been talking about it all day, and just can’t figure it out. Then I thought of my old friend Cal Baker. I thought, if anyone could help us, Cal could. I hope you don’t mind us bothering you with something so trivial. How have you been, anyway?” She smiled, and he understood.

“I guess I can’t complain. Been a little on the lonely side lately, but I’ve got my books.”

“You always were a bit of a recluse, Cal.”

Seeing Ball again after all these years brought a smile to his face. She had always been able to bring a bit of sunshine to their late night sessions, break the monotony. At least when she and Jerry were getting along. To think that she had been raising a son, Jerry’s son, for all those years by herself. And now...Jerry back home? Had they met? Did he know? He caught himself in a fit of nostalgia and woke himself up. She had obviously called for a reason, and it was time to get on his game.

“So what’s this problem?”

“Well it goes like this. There’s a large cargo ship sailing on the ocean. The ship is strong, and impregnable to all but a certain sea creature called a drillfish. Normally, one drillfish couldn’t do much harm to our ship, because the ship has a self-healing skin on its hull. But tragedy has struck, and an entire school of drillfish are attacking in the same place at the same time. The attack is too much for the self-healing hull, and the ship will soon begin to take on water. The crew is prepared for such an eventuality, and goes down to the armory to replace their special drillfish hunting weapons. The armory, however, is locked, and no one can replace the key.”

“That’s the problem?” Baker asked.

“In a nutshell, Cal.”

Baker did not even take time to think.

“Well it sounds like they have two choices. They either break in to the armory, or they replace a way to protect the ship from the inside.”

“I don’t think the ship can be shored up quickly enough. The drillfish have to be stopped first.”

“Well,” Baker replied, “They must break into the armory. QED.”

“I must admit, Cal, we were thinking the same thing. And we thought, if they can’t go through the front door, maybe they can go through the back door.”

Now it was Ball’s turn to stare hard at Baker. Baker understood she was trying to tell him something, but didn’t quite have it yet. He knew the problem Jerry had taken to Ball was to do with the rips into the other-verse, so he assumed the ship was the universe, and the drillfish the garbage ships that were ripping holes. It sounded like she had found a way to stop those ships, but couldn’t get at the tools to do so. They were locked in the armory. But what tools?

“Do you think there is a back door, Cal?”

Back door. Back door. Of course. She was looking for a way to disable the ships through their computer systems. He had built in special back door access to the distortion systems when he had redesigned them back in the 80’s. That was even before Jerry and The Twitch had joined the company. If the codes were still in use, the distortion systems could be disabled remotely from the lab back at RTI.

“Let me think about that.” He went off into his bedroom and rooted around while Ball waited impatiently. Baker suffered from a psychological dysfunction he often referred to as the “Just In Case” syndrome. He wasn’t so much of a pack rat, as he had an inability to discard any notes that might ever have the slightest possibility of being useful to anyone. The result was that his rooms tended to be filled with old notebooks that nobody ever believed would be either of interest to anyone, or if by chance they did contain of nugget of valuable information, that Baker would ever be able to replace it. It was a source of constant amusement for Jerry, and he never failed to rib Baker about it. That was about to change.

After only a few minutes, Baker came out with an old notebook that looked like it had been through a few wars itself. “Ball, I’m not sure I have the answer to your problem, but I have one of my own that might give you some insight. Maybe you can help me.” He smiled and winked at Ball.

She knew she had come to the right person. Now, though, the tables would be reversed, and she only hoped she would be able to see through Baker’s code as easily as he had seen through hers.

Baker continued. “There is a little boy trying to learn his alphabet, but he keeps getting it wrong. Sometimes he even mixes up numbers with the letters. His parents have tried everything to get him to learn it, but they just can’t get through to him. His teachers kick him out school, but his parents never give up on him. He grows up and gets by in life, but never learns to say his alphabet. Then one day, he surprises his parents by singing...” Here, Baker looked into his notebook and sang the following: “DIDK648KSLL912CMNG19EID2FA, now I know my ABC’s, next time won’t you sing with me”. He looked back up at Ball. “His parents were amazed. They took him back to his old school, where his teachers had kicked him out as a child, and had him repeat it to them. DIDK648KSLL912CMNG19EID2FA, now I know my ABC’s, next time won’t you sing with me. Upon hearing it, they realized that they had been wrong all along, and shut down the school for good.”

He looked knowingly at Ball with another wink. “The puzzle of course, it to figure out why.”

Ball smiled back at Baker. “Well, I guess we both have a lot to think about. Thanks for your help. Take care of yourself, Cal.”

“You, too, Ball.”

The screen went blank, and Baker called over his new friends. “Ok, comrades. New plan.”

There is a convoluted sequence here where the gang back at the lab in the best friend’s mansion all hash through what they know and come up with a plan. Jerry and Elbert have to go to the garbage company headquarters in Chicago, where their old lab is, and do some computer stuff with the help of the super secret code their old partner just happened to have sitting around his apartment. Once they do the computer stuff, the parts of the space ships that make the rip things will miraculously stop working forever. They decide, moreover, to bring their robot friend and some of his “brothers” to help them infiltrate the building.

Ball and Whit, meanwhile, travel to the infamous sector 47b to fulfill Jerry’s original plan to replace her father and convince him of the madness of his ways.

There are, of course, spaceships aplenty in a garage hangar thing on the grounds of Silver Maples, so travel can begin without delay.

Jerry, Elbert, Ninety, and five other Bro-bots walked out of the public port downtown, and rode the tunnels to Robo-Trash, Inc. No one thought to question two humans surrounded by so many robots, so they were able to slip through without much difficulty. They gained access to a service entrance with Elbert’s as yet unchanged codes, but were shocked to replace themselves completely alone inside the building.

Everywhere they looked, there were empty corridors, empty offices, unmanned vid-screens. In fact, the only sound they could hear at all was the humming of the machines that were still bolted to the floors.

“What do you think is going on here, Pete?” Jerry asked.

“I don’t know, Jerry, I’ve never seen it like this.”

“A trap?”

“Could be,” Elbert said, “but I think it’s unlikely.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s not the Old Man’s style. I mean, he’s not really much one for booby traps, is he?”

“No,” Jerry answered. “He’s more the grab you at the door with a laser to your head, kind of guy.”

“I guess he likes to take his enemies face to face.”

“I think so, too. Maybe there is something to what that apparition said about the showdown in space. Maybe he’s as crazy as she says, and has actually sent everything he’s got to the original rip in 47b. It would be more than enough to create an unrepairable rip in the universe.”

“God help us all.”

“Amen, old friend. Let’s get to work.”

They made their way up to the fifth floor, and into their old lab without incident. Where doors required codes, Elbert’s continued to work, and they were able to avoid the vid-cameras by taking the stairs. Many things had changed in the 12 years since Jerry had been here last, and Jerry was thankful to have Elbert as a guide. Back in the lab, in fact, Jerry barely recognized the place. For one thing, the mess was gone. This lab was spotless, courtesy of Dr. Elbert. The books on the shelves were all arranged neatly by subject, and then in alphabetical order. Where there had once been overflowing ashtrays, there were now nothing but paperweights and pencil holders. But worst of all were the walls. Once covered in jokes and girly calendars, they were now clean and bare. It was definitely Elbert’s lab, now.

Elbert, practically at home, went straight to his usual terminal and punched a few buttons. “Damn,” he said. “Locked out.”

“No surprise there,” Jerry said. “I’m actually surprised you were still able to get in the servant doors.”

“I’m not,” Elbert replied. “That was always the Old Man’s fatal flaw. He never took the servants seriously.”

Jerry laughed. “Hey, that gives me an idea.” He went over to Elbert’s terminal and typed something himself. “Hey look at that. Halfway there.” Jerry had found his way into the computer system at a medium clearance level, and was opening and closing various folders, looking for higher access.

“How did you do that?”

“An old trick from my college days. When I started here, I gave myself a second, secret passcode. It wasn’t a high clearance, but it allowed me to get into the inventory for those late nights without being tracked.”

“You were the the thief?”

Jerry laughed again. “Well, I never really thought of it as stealing. After all, we were putting in more hours than we got paid for, and you can’t work on an empty stomach. Besides, who got hurt?”

Elbert, incredulous, stared at Jerry. “You mean all that time....and you never...”

“Take it easy, Elbert. It’s all water under the bridge, now.”

This time it was Elbert’s turn to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

Elbert calmed himself down. “All that time,” he laughed, “I thought it was Baker.”

“Now that is funny.” He slapped Elbert on the shoulder and smiled at him. “It’s good to be back here with you, old friend. Feels like old times.”

“Sure does. Listen...I just can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“Forget it.”

“Ok. Now let me see what you’ve got there.”

“It’s level C clearance,” Jerry said. “But if we want to get at the brain, we’re going to have to dig down to triple A.”

At that moment, Ninety, who had been standing just outside the door, walked in the room. “We’ve got guests.”

“Who?”

“Tru-bots.”

“Can the Brothers stop them?”

“They can hold them off for a bit. Maybe ten minutes. But after that, we’ll have to make a mess. That means reinforcements. And reinforcements mean trouble.”

“Trouble?” Elbert asked.

“The kind of trouble we don’t get out of.”

“Ok. Thanks. Ten minutes.”

Ninety left the room.

“Alright, Pete,” Jerry said, “We’ve got ten minutes. Let’s get to work.”

Aboard the mothership, the Old Man observed his troops coming together. It was good. Within the hour, every one of his ships would be amassed at the rendezvous point, here where it had all begun. It would be a fitting end to this miserable second life, reuniting with his true love while the rest of the world perished in a blaze of glory. No more pain. No more suffering. No more hate or envy or selfishness. And though there would be no one left to remember this moment of moments, there would also be no one left to condemn him for his crime. As for the Consortium, the irony of ironies: No one left to use the single largest fuel haul in history.

The Old Man plugged himself into a terminal to better view the action gathering around him. One thing you had to give these robots, they followed orders well. The ships had gathered in perfect formation, exactly according to plan, and the rest were arriving on schedule. He thought again about Her, and smiled. Soon they would be together forever, and this long nightmare would come to an end.

His brief reverie was cut short, however, by the entrance of the Domo. Per standing protocol, he swept into the room and planted himself one meter behind the Old Man, and one meter to the left. Also, per standing protocol, he said only one word. “Sir.”

The Old Man had always been annoyed by interruptions of any kind, even important ones, and so had programmed his robots to only interrupt in this fashion, out of sight, with only one word, so he could gather his bearings and either continue the conversation, or not, at his convenience. Although the practice was good in theory, however, it always fell apart for him in practice, because once he was interrupted, he lost his concentration and couldn’t focus on anything but the interruption anyway. So it was today as well, and he replied without turning around, exasperated, but resigned.

“Yes, Dixon. Come forward.”

The Domo walked in front of the Old Man, turned to face him, and spoke. “We have uninvited guests.”

“On the ship?”

“No sir. Within our sphere of influence in local space.”

“I see,” said the Old Man. “Have they attempted to communicate?”

“They have, sir. As ordered, we have not returned communications.”

“No security code?”

“No, sir.”

“And their communication? You have it with you?”

“Yes sir,” the Domo said, and handed the Old Man a small slip of paper.

The Old Man read the paper several times. Then, suddenly, he tore the paper up and threw it on the floor. He allowed the anger to swell inside of him, and nursed it from a fetal annoyance to fully grown hate. When it was ready to share with the world he stood up and let out a scream that, but for the vacuum of space, would have been heard by the entire fleet. The Domo stood completely still, unaffected by this rare display of emotion as was every robot on the ship.

His anger quelled somewhat by the release, he gathered his thoughts as best he could. He walked up to the forward window, superfluous to the robots, and stared at the minuscule dots barely showing against the darkness that were his fleet. He pounded his fists on the counter and stared down at them. Then, putting his hands behind his back, straightened himself up, and took a deep breath. Without bothering to face the Domo he said, “Very well. Invite them to board, and bring them to my cabin.”

By the time the Old Man turned around to head to his cabin, the Domo had already crossed the ship, and given his orders.

There is a very confusing section here about robots trying to prepare for the big assault, turning on and off lots of switches, checking parameters, running diagnostics, evaluating resonance frequencies, and all sorts of technobabble. By the end, the robots are in place, their ships are ready, and all that remains is to receive the order from the mothership. Back on the mothership, however, the Old Man is somewhat distracted.

The Domo showed Ball and Whit to the Old Man’s cabin, and discretely exited the way he had come. They stood facing the imposing figure, not sure how to begin, and were relieved when he opened for them.

“What a surprise, darling.” The Old Man walked up to Ball and kissed her on the cheek. Then he put his hand out to Whit. “And you, sir, are growing into quite a young man.” They shook hands like gentlemen.

“Daddy, I...”

“Welcome to my home away from home,” the Old Man interrupted. “Can I get you something? A drink? Perhaps something to eat?”

“No, Daddy. We’re not hungry.”

“Perhaps young Whittaker would like some candy. Would you like some candy Master Whit?”

“I’m not four, grandpa,” Whit shot back.

The Old Man was not a fool. He never had been. He sensed immediately the fear, perhaps animosity, that his family had brought with them. He had seen them less than once a year since Whit had been born, and each visit had ended in argument and bad feelings. He supposed today would be no different. With one exception, of course.

“Ok, darlings. If you don’t want to play civil, I don’t mind. In fact I’m quite busy, and have little time for pleasantries to begin with.”

Ball and Whit were silent.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here.”

Ball opened her mouth twice to begin, and failed to speak. On the third attempt, she spat out, “We’re here to stop you, Daddy.”

It wasn’t what she meant to say, nothing like the careful slow windup speech she had practiced to herself on the journey, but the presence of her father always seemed to take away her balance. He had a way of making her feel like every word she said was judged, and she would become flustered, losing any argument she had meticulously played out beforehand in her mind. She had thought that today would be different, but was sorely disappointed.

“Stop me?”

“Daddy, why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Daddy, your daughter is not an idiot. And neither is your grandson.”

“I never said....”

“And neither is my mother.” It was the one thing she had planned to say, and planned to say early. She had hoped it would put him off his game long enough to get him to really listen to her. She knew she needed to crack his shell if she wanted in, and had counted on those two words to do it for her. It worked.

The Old Man stumbled back and fell into his chair. Her mother? How much does she know? Has that louse of a son in law told her after all? Surely she hasn’t known for the last 12 years, or she would have said something by now, which can mean only one thing. The louse is back. All he said, however was, “Your mother?”

Ball looked at him with more seriousness than he could ever remember. “I met her Daddy. Maybe.” She looked at Whit for support and he nodded for her to go on. “I don’t know. Maybe it was a dream. But she seemed so real.”

“Who did?” the Old Man asked, fearing the answer.

“She called herself Ballerina Justice. She said when she lived in our world, she was in love with you. That you were married. That you had planned to be together forever, but something tore you apart.”

The Old Man just listened. Silently. Thoughtfully. So it wasn’t the louse after all. I could have lived with that, with someone to blame. Someone to hate. But this...this is something else altogether.

“She still loves you.”

Ball and her father looked at each other intensely. Each in their own thoughts. She, thinking he could, at long last, be transformed by love. He, that keeping the secret from his daughter for so long had been unconscionable, like so many things he had done. She, that she had misjudged him. He, that he might not be worthy of Ballerina’s love. She that he might be redeemed. He, that he was past redemption.

He took a deep breath. The world was about to end. At his hand. If he failed to tell her now, he never would. It did not matter that she already knew. She needed to know from him. He so rarely felt anything, which made his feeling that much more impelling.

“I still love her too.” He took a long pause before continuing. Ball and Whit let him. “She...she is the only thing that’s left of the man I was. And she, like me, has become something else. I don’t mean...she’s not a freak like me...but she’s not what she was. I feel that. She’s...but I...no. I should start at the beginning...”

And after holding it in for a lifetime, he finally told her the story of his life with Ballerina Justice, and of the fateful day he lost her forever.

“But when she called out to me in a dream, the first dream I had known since my own transformation, I knew it was her. I knew I had been granted a second chance.”

“What did she say, Daddy?”

The Old Man crumpled his brow and looked at his daughter carefully. He knew she would not accept what he had to say, and he wasn’t sure if he could bear to tell her. Did she have to know?

“She said our universes were tearing each other apart, but if we could join them together, and make them one, we could...” The truth? A lie? Maybe an equivocation. “we could save ourselves.” A lie. Better for her.

“Join them together?”

“Yes, Ball. Open a bridge so large it can never be closed.”

Ball was only just now beginning to realize how far gone he was. She stared at him wide-eyed. “You’re going to single-handedly destroy two universes. You must know that.”

“I don’t know that at all.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“What if I am, Ball? What if I am? Is this a world worth saving? Everywhere I look people are trying to hurt each other. Robots fight for nothing but power. I’ve spent a lifetime fueling the weapons of oppression and for what? Is the world better off because of them? Would it be better off without? There is no winning. Humans oppress robots. Robots oppress humans. Are you ready for another 20 years of war?”

“And your alternative is what, end the game altogether? Destroy everything and give up? What about the rest of us? What about the world where people still care about each other? Where they love each other as much as you love her. Will you destroy their love to regain your own? The world is at war, yes. And war does terrible things to people. Our people and the mechanical people have been trying to destroy each other for nearly 60 years. But life goes on, Daddy. For every act of oppression, somewhere there is an act of compassion. For every act of hate, somewhere there is an act of love. You must see that there are better ways. No one is asking you to take sides, but at least give us a chance to work it out on our own. What about me? What about Whitty? Maybe we want to take our chances.”

As she talked, she thought she saw empathy in her father’s eyes. She thought it was working, that the little bit of love that was coursing through what was left of his veins was working its way to his brain, so when he held his ground, the news was only that much more devastating.

“I’m sorry, Ball. It’s too late.” Ball’s father shared a look of exhaustion as he left the room, and went back to the bridge to give his orders.

Whit looked up at his mother. “What do we do now, Mom?”

Ball sat down on the floor and began to weep. She was supposed to be the mom. She was supposed to know what to do. But right now she just felt like a confused kid with no more idea of what to do next than her son did.

“I’m out of ideas, Whitty. If only She could help us.”

“Maybe she can.”

Ball looked up at him, and rubbed the tears from her face.

“But how? How do we replace her?”

“Mr. Ninety could do it.”

“But Mr. Ninety is half a galaxy away, Whit.”

“What about another one. Think there are any Bro-bots on this ship?”

Ball suddenly remembered something. Something she had seen upon her arrival to this ship. Something that gave her hope. “Actually, Whit,” she said, “I think there may be.” She stood up. The hope made her strong, and the idea made her feel responsible again. “Let’s retrace our footsteps. I have an idea.”

Back on the bridge, the Old Man held the fate of the universe in his hands. His entire fleet was gathered before him, waiting for orders. Any doubts he had felt, any pestering concerns that She hadn’t bothered to replace him again, now that he was so close, were shut out by his conversation with the girl. She had settled his resolve, for better or ill, and he was more sure of himself than ever.

He looked around at his mechanical crew, and at the readouts showing the positions of his fleet. The ships were at full power. The disrupters were tested and functioning. Everything was in order. If it failed to work, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. With a hole as big as he was planning to make, you couldn’t put enough garbage through it to slow it down, let alone close it up again. In any case, there was no garbage here. Just disrupters.

He turned to the communications robot. “Get the Domo up here.”

The robot pushed some buttons and scanned the ship, before replying, “I’m sorry, sir. I am unable to locate him.”

The Old Man was floored, and he stopped in his tracks. “What? What do you mean?”

“He is not on the ship, sir.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Is there someone else I can contact for you, sir?”

“It doesn’t matter. Open up contact with the entire fleet. Tell them to commence with the disrupters at will.”

“Yes sir.”

And the Old Man saw several things happen simultaneously.

The first of the deep blue lights appeared in the empty space beyond.

The Domo entered the bridge and attacked him.

The world disappeared.

“George.”

“Rina, at last.”

They embraced.

Whit and Ball walked over to them. Everything was dark. More than dark. As if the darkness were obscured by fog. Enveloped. Yet they could sense each other. It was as if they were seeing without their eyes.

Ballerina Justice floated through and swirled around them. Her voice seemed to ring in from every part of the universe. “She’s beautiful, George. I’m so proud. And the little one. So smart. He reminds me of you.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Darling.”

“I’ve dreamed of this moment, George.”

“I’ve done nothing but dream of it, darling.”

“And now it’s over.”

She disappeared and the Old Man panicked. He looked every which way, but could see her nowhere. He looked above him and shouted, “Over?”

From the darkness, the echoey voice of Ballerina Justice once again filled their world. “You’re tearing out worlds apart. We cannot survive this. Not even I can survive this.”

“But you said...”

And then, from right behind him, “It’s too late, George. This is the end of time.”

He turned around to see her swirling through the space around him. He tried to follow her with his eyes, but she was moving too fast. “Tell me what to do, Rina.”

“How can I tell you what to do, when I barely understand it myself?” As she spoke, the swirl moved further and further away, while her voice seemed to change its source with every phrase. “I have been so distant for so long. It is everything I can do to be with you here.”

The Old Man was frantically looking around, trying to replace her again. “Is it my ships? Should I stop them? Make them work faster? Make me understand. Tell me what to do. I won’t lose you again.”

But there was no answer. The Old Man crumbled and put his face in his hands. After a few moments, he looked up and shouted, “Don’t leave me, Rina!” Then, he put his face back into his hands, and cried.

Ball, coming through the darkness, moved over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “It’s not what you think, Daddy.” He had not even noticed that his daughter was there. “Without the insight, I’m not sure you can ever understand.”

The Old Man looking up from his hands, and into the emptiness in front of him, said, “Insight?”

“The insight, Daddy. Time. The insight of the Time People.”

The Old Man looked exhausted. “Try me,” he said.

Ball sat down in the emptiness and spoke. “I think...the best way to describe it is...hmmm.” She wasn’t sure where to begin.

The Old Man stayed silent, staring away from her.

She thought that maybe she should start with the basics. It might help her get her own thoughts in order as well. Something from her introduction to time studies. “Ok. Time is a river. It flows fast and slow, shallow and deep, constant and changing. Because we flow with it, we cannot observe the changes, but those of us with the insight can sense it.” She let this sink in.

“There are, I believe, many of these rivers, each with their own flows and eddies, each defining their own universe. Were they to come in contact with each other, they would have a profound effect. We’ve seen the effect in this area of space already. I think our time flow is nearly opposite from the time flow of the other-verse, and when they come in contact with each other, they are dragging on each other, slowing time down in both universes. With a permanent bridge, they will bring each other to a stand still, and we will all be frozen in time forever.”

“Then there is hope,” the Old Man said.

“Hope? To stop it?”

“No, no, no. Why would I want to stop it? Hope that She and I could remain together, here, for a frozen eternity.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. No one can survive this. Even something as ethereal as She. She may already be gone for good.”

“Then...it is over.”

“Oh, Daddy. How could you do it?”

“I did it for her.” He turned to face Ball. “No. That’s a lie. I suppose there’s no time left for lies. I did it for me, Ball. Because I was tired of living, if you could even call it that. Because I remembered being happy and thought I could be again. Because I convinced myself that I had helped to create a world that wasn’t worth saving.”

She walked up to him and embraced him as Whit looked on.

“It can’t be over, Mom,” Whit said.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I know it feels like that. You’re so young. You had your whole life in front of you. But sometimes, you just have to accept your fate.”

“I don’t mean that, Mom. I mean it can’t be over. Literally.”

“You mean, because we’re here? You mean, if were over, we wouldn’t exist?”

“Well, kind of,” Whit said. “The thing is, Mom, I’ve seen the other-verse. I’ve travelled it with grandmother.”

“You’ve...” Ball struggled, “I don’t understand.”

“She showed me her world. I’ve seen it begin and I’ve seen it end. It doesn’t end here, it begins here.”

Ball stared at her son with a combination of utter confusion, and outright pride. He so often showed his intelligence in ways she couldn’t understand, jetting past her as she struggled to keep up. On one level it was frustrating, but on a more important one, it made her proud to look on and watch him fly.

“Ok, Whitty. Help me understand.”

“That world. The one we call the other-verse. It is just beginning. The time flow has been in place forever, along with the empty space and the laws governing them. But it was just that. Empty. It had energy but no matter. Then Grandmother gave it matter. And the matter, from our universe, transformed to fit its new home, and taught the energy how to shape itself. As the natural energy transformed itself into matter, it became the source of everything that universe came to know.”

Whit stopped, but Ball was still confused. The Old Man just sat silently. Ball said, gently, “Go on.”

“That universe grew and thrived and evolved life. Civilizations came and went and they even grew to have a galactic empire, much like ours. A time came when their own science rivaled that of ours today, and they explored the possibility of digging a hole outside of their own universe. They succeeded, and in doing so, created the universe we live in today. You see?”

Ball was dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, Whitty. I still don’t understand. How could they create our universe if we created theirs?”

“Your insight, Mom. Use your insight. Their time flows away from us. As they travel forward, we travel back. Billions of years in their future are billions of years in our past.”

“And we’re, what? Destroyed in the process of creating them?”

“That’s what I’m saying, Mom. I don’t think that’s possible. Either time flows from both universes annihilate each other here and now, or both universes survive. I know they can because I’ve seen it. So it can’t be too late.”

“But how do we...”

“We have to go back, Grandpa. And you have to stop those ships.”

And just then, a friendly Bro-bot came into view.

“Dixon! You!” The Old Man shouted.

“Yes, it’s me. I’ve come to take you back.”

Like so many space stories, as we get closer to the end, and the action gets heavy, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep track of what’s going on, at the expense of an overly descriptive view of the climactic actions. Suffice to say that when our friends from the last scene replace themselves back on the ship, confusion reigns.

The confusion was, apparently, brought about on three fronts. First, the attack on the Old Man by the Domo, and his subsequent removal from the bridge, led the more senior robots to question with whom their allegiance should lay. Second, shortly after the bombardments began, the disrupters on ships throughout the fleet began to fail with depressing regularity, thanks to our hero’s miraculous computer hacking skills back at the main office on Earth. Third, Bro-bot spies, located randomly throughout the fleet, felt an insistence from their leader that they rise up and stop the bombardments at all costs.

And confusion reigned.

When the Old Man came out of it, he found himself back in his quarters with Ball, Whit, and the Domo. His head felt like it had been sliced open with a dull machete, and he was unable to focus on anything more detailed than a bright light. He struggled to his feet and made his way to the bridge where repair-bots were running to and fro, navigator-bots were comparing charts, and the ’bots that ran the disrupter units were scurrying back and forth between terminals. It looked more like panic than anything resembling problem solving.

“Report,” he shouted.

A navigator-bot who had assumed control of the ship in his absence answered him without hesitation. “All onboard disrupter units have failed, as have those on most of the fleet. At this time, there are six functioning disrupter units in operation with the rest incapacitated. Twelve ships are under attack from robots on their own crews, which we suspect is a result of a contagious insanity, although we do not currently have confirmation of that.” While he said this, he silently signaled to his security-bots and they took the Domo into custody. “Would you like us to examine this one for a cause?”

The Old Man absorbed the situation. “Call off the remaining disrupter units and have everyone stand down. Affect repairs while we regroup. Contain the insane robots but do not reprogram. Leave this one to me. I’ll be in my quarters. Let me know when repairs have been affected. Dixon, you’re with me.” With that, he turned and walked to his cabin with the Domo following behind.

Ball and Whit were waiting for him when he arrived.

“What does it look like out there?” Ball asked.

“Well,” the Old Man replied, “it looks like fate may have intervened after all. Something seems to be wrong with almost every disrupter in the fleet.”

“Fate, hell,” Ball exclaimed. “It’s Jerry!”

“Don’t get cocky, little one. Whatever he did, he didn’t get them all.”

“How bad is it?”

“There is a hole about ten times the size of what we would typically make. That’s pretty bad in itself, but far worse is that with nothing to push into it, the hole will keep growing.”

“It can’t be,” said Whit. “I saw the hole close.”

“Whitty, you know you can’t count on anything you see on the flow. It’s always changing. Tantum Nunc, Whitty. Only the Present.”

“But...” Whit struggled to say, “but..there must be a way. There must.”

“Unfortunately, Whittaker, there may not be. It would take something the size of a small moon to close that thing up. And it’s getting bigger all the time. Even if I sent the whole fleet through on a suicide mission, we wouldn’t come close to the amount of matter we would need to close it back up.”

“Then it’s over?” Whit asked, dejectedly.

“I’m afraid it is, Whit, “the Old Man replied. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” And the Old Man did something he hadn’t done in the twelve years Whit had been alive. He hugged him. Tight. Like he meant it. And Ball came up and hugged them both. And they stayed there, holding each other close, waiting for the end to come.

And they waited.

And waited.

And nothing happened.

And there was a knock.

“Sir.”

“Go ahead.”

“There is a communication for you from a ship en route to our location.”

Pulled out of his trance, the Old Man broke free of the embrace and said, “Put it through here.” Then, his vid-screen glowing into life, he saw a larger than life size picture of someone he had known a long time ago. Someone he had once respected. Someone whose presence he had been sorry to lose. Looking at him, he said, “Dr. Baker. Now you are about the last person I expected to see gracing my wall today.”

Ball looked on knowingly. His first plan had worked. Anything else he had up his sleeve had to be worth trying.

“Good to see you, Boss. Long time no see.”

“As you say,” the Old man replied.

“Well, I’d love to catch up and talk about old times, but apparently some son-of-a-bitch has decided to destroy two universes in one fell swoop, so I’m a little busy. Oh, hi, Ball. Good to see you still alive.”

The Old Man began fuming. Maybe he wasn’t so sorry to have lost him after all. Ball did her best to diffuse the situation. “What is it, Cal? Do you have a plan?”

“Well, actually...”

Here he goes into the detail about an invention he has been working on which he calls the ECRU (energy conversion and reclamation unit) that is a sort of transporter thingy with an unfortunate color. With a source of energy, it can convert that energy to matter, although he has not yet figured out how to turn it into the matter he wants. Of course, there’s no getting around the need to explain how it works, where the energy comes from, the inherent problems with the design, how it differs from the unstoppables, etc.., but eventually he gets around to suggesting someone actually use it.

“...but if it is irrelevant what the matter looks like, it should work fine.”

“Should?” Ball asked.

“Well,” Baker answered, “this may well be the second largest experiment in the history of the universe...”

“But?”

“But I guess we’ve got nothing to lose.”

The Old Man looked at him full on. Even in a separate ship, connected only by light and radio waves, Baker was still afraid of him. He was pleasantly surprised, then, when the Old Man finally said, “Alright, Dr. Baker. Let’s give it a shot,” and turned to smile at Ball. “What can we do to help?”

“Have every ship in your fleet transfer all power to their energy beams, and focus them on the coordinates I’m sending to your ship.” He typed something in on his terminal. “And wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Cal,” Ball said, and took her father’s hand to lead him back to the bridge.

Within moments of the Old Man’s order, something strange happened, something no one had ever seen before. It started ordinarily enough, at least for anyone with experience ripping holes in the universe. The world went dark. Became empty. A void deeper and darker than laymen could possibly imagine. That part was normal. The introduction of Baker’s ship, and his unusual device, however, made the traditional closing of the rip much less so.

Energy flowed from every ship in the fleet into the ECRU, and came out the other end as a matter stream directed at the center of the rip. Typically, when matter entered a newly formed hole, there would be a flash of a deep bluish light and a burst of energy, which the waiting ship would absorb and convert to fuel to be used in the unstoppable weapons. Today, however, was anything but typical. The matter stream entered the hole, and as the deep bluish light began to grow, it stretched itself out from its own universe toward the ECRU. When it touched the ECRU, a connection was made, and the energy coming from the other-verse converted into the matter stream, which in turn gave birth to more energy in a continuous feedback loop.

As the energy and matter streams grew larger, their presence could be felt aboard all of the ships in the fleet. The robots became paralyzed by overwhelming vibrations. The navigation controls went haywire. And Baker’s ship began to heat up like a furnace. Baker and his crew moved into the heart of their ship, and prepared to escape on their lifeboats as they called for help from the fleet. The fleet, itself helpless with all communications disrupted, never heard.

Back on the mothership, the Old Man was half-paralyzed himself, but he knew his moment had come. He knew that feedback loop would grow indefinitely, and would create a disturbance equal in devastation to the one it was trying to prevent. He also knew that something had gone wrong, or Baker would have shut down the ECRU by now. There was one chance to save Baker’s plan, a massive explosion in the heart of the matter stream, but he knew he would have to sacrifice himself to make it happen. He turned to his daughter and said, “You have saved Her. You have saved me. I did not deserve it. Forgive me.” And with great difficulty, with great pain, managed to fight with his mechanical body enough to drag it off the bridge to his personal shuttle.

Ball and Whit watched as his shuttle left the ship, and flew into what could only be called the eye of the storm. For it was an eye, peaceful and empty at the center, violent and chaotic everywhere else. As the shuttle crossed the horizon, an even greater explosion of light engulfed everything.

And then it was gone. The storm had passed, and the proverbial sun was peeking from behind the clouds. The rip was sealed, the ships disabled, and the Old Man gone forever. It was time to assess the damage and rebuild.

So that’s pretty much it. Scientists use science to save the world. What’s not to love? Just a couple of epilogues left and vague setups for the sequel that never came. I suppose we’re all better off.