Time and Punishment: Black Ocean: Passage of Time, #4

By J.S. Morin

The rules to Hide & Seek just got a whole lot deadlier.

 

The astral drop took out all the tech on the ship—maybe for good. They're so far down that rescue seems unlikely. If they had it to do over again, maybe Eric and Jessie would have found some other way to escape their pursuers. But unless Eric figures out reverse time travel, they're going to have to live with the decision.

 

Or die with it.

 

With a gaggle of refugees and a strange, alien vessel, the options for survival seem grim. Jessie assigns search parties to scavenge the vessel for essential supplies. Teams of refugees fan out in pairs. Eric, who both saved and possibly doomed them all, sulks and refrains from using magic and making things even worse.

 

Things get worse without his help.

 

Inquisitors from the Convocation manage to get aboard, and none of the crew are ready to defend themselves against magic. All be lost, except an old friend stops by to lend a hand—and a little bit of magic.

 

Time and Punishment is the third mission of Black Ocean: Passage of Time, a science fantasy series set in the late 26th century. What if Futurama jumped 5 years ahead instead of 1000? What if Doc and Marty lost the car keys? What if Bonnie and Clyde were siblings instead of lovers? Passage of Time jolts the Black Ocean universe forward into new adventures and new perils with a new cast of zany misfits trying to outsmart the galaxy just to get by.

 

Strap in and hold on tight. Passage of Time is the latest series in the Black Ocean universe, and it's going to be an action-packed, mystery-filled, madcap ride across the galaxy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Magical Scrivener Press
• Release date: Jul 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9781643553566

J.S. Morin

I am a creator of worlds and a destroyer of words. As a fantasy writer, my works range from traditional epics to futuristic fantasy with starships. I have worked as an unpaid Little League pitcher, a cashier, a student library aide, a factory grunt, a cubicle drone, and an engineer--there is some overlap in the last two. Through it all, though, I was always a storyteller. Eventually I started writing books based on the stray stories in my head, and people kept telling me to write more of them. Now, that's all I do for a living. I enjoy strategy, worldbuilding, and the fantasy author's privilege to make up words. I am a gamer, a joker, and a thinker of sideways thoughts. But I don't dance, can't sing, and my best artistic efforts fall short of your average notebook doodle. When you read my books, you are seeing me at my best. My ultimate goal is to be both clever and right at the same time. I have it on good authority that I have yet to achieve it. Visit me at jsmorin.com

Book preview

TIME AND PUNISHMENT

MISSION 4

BLACK OCEAN: PASSAGE OF TIME

J.S. MORIN

Copyright © 2022 J.S. Morin

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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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J.S. Morin — First Edition

ISBN: 978-1-64355-356-6

TIME AND PUNISHMENT

MISSION 4

In the deepest void of the Black Ocean, the hum of a starship’s engines was a comfort. Even aboard the unfamiliar haathee vessel, a pulsating—almost imperceptible—low-frequency thrum had assured its charges that they were safe in technology’s firm grasp. But surrounded by giant-sized equipment meant for a species that towered over even stuunji, it was hard not to feel insignificant staring out through a forward window large enough to be a hangar bay door.

Beyond that window, an infinity of red swam with faint whorls of black.

Astral space.

It was supposed to be pale gray. But that was like a fish saying that land was supposed to be made of white sand.

Jessie realized that everyone was watching her for a reaction. She passed the buck to the ship’s owner, and apparently sole operator, Grosstet. How long before your ship usually sorts itself out?

The haathee explorer reached up with his trunk and scratched his scalp. WHO IS TO SAY? THERE ARE MARKS. MAGIC MARKS.

Runes? Eric suggested.

RUNES. YES. THEY STOP MAGIC FROM HURTING THE MACHINES. When Jessie spread her arms, indicating contravening evidence on all sides, Grosstet elaborated. SHOULD STOP. DID NOT. YES. I KNOW. IT WILL THE COLD AND IT WILL THE DEATH. FEAR NOT. I HAVE A PLAN.

Chik-ta squawked something. Eric took a moment before blinking and hastily translating for the in-tik, whose translator box had also been knocked out of commission. He wants us to know he’s thin-boned and not, um, insulated against the cold.

The in-tik squawked again, louder. Eric put up his hands. My way was more polite. Another avian cacophony. Fine. He’s not insulated by layer upon layer of blubber like us mammals. A quieter chirp and a nod agreed that this was more accurate.

Does the ship have backup life support? Jessie inquired. Emergency systems? Independent, isolated units that might still be powered?

AH. YES. IF THAT WORKS, IT WOULD BE ON NOW. IT IS NOT.

Oy. This daft nutter of a wizzie’s done us in. Mindy took a swipe, but Jessie caught her by the wrist before her blow could cuff Eric upside the head.

"He’s also the only one getting us out of this astral abyss. Keep that in mind. Anyone wants to lay hands on my brother goes through me. Got it? Jessie asked as she made eye contact with each of their ragtag refugee band in turn, ending with Grosstet. That goes for you, too, big guy. I’ve got nothing against anyone here, but make no mistake. Me and Eric will get everyone out of this alive, and anyone who comes between us and escape is welcome to walk home."

The implications of a walk in astral space were lost on exactly no one.

"SUCH MEAN WORDS. COME. BE BRAVE AND FOLLOW GROSSTET. He pronounced the first syllable of his own name via his trunk, a little toot of his own horn that no human voice could quite duplicate. WE WILL FIND GOOD AIR AND FOOD. AND WE WILL WAIT."

What the haathee failed to mention was that his sanctuary was a half hour’s walk through the dead ship. And it wasn’t an interesting transit to make up for the inconvenience. From the bridge, there was one shaft for Grosstet’s omnidirectional lift tube, and they only switched directions twice along the journey.

WE ARE CLOSE, Grosstet assured them, late in the trek.

Be there already if’n it weren’t for dragging that walking fossil along.

The whole entourage stopped. They looked to Mindy for clarification.

What? Mindy scoffed. She flung a finger toward Uom’pe. "We’re all thinking it. Ship dead as a desert whale. Fuck only knows how much air. Didn’t bring nothing to eat, and Christ only knows what this bloody elephant’s got to feed us. And here we are, trotting along at a tesud’s pace because Tiny here won’t pick ’er up and lug her like the dead weight she is."

Before Jessie could intervene, Uom’pe spoke up on her own behalf. I. Am old. I will. Die soon. Enough. But if. You all. Wish. To go. Ahead. I will. Not. Try to. Hold you. Back. I will. Make my. Way in. My own. Good. Time.

NONSENSE. NO PART OF THE HERD GETS LEFT.

Well, can’t you at least prod her on just a bit, eh?

WE ARE CLOSE.

True to his word, Grosstet led them in short order to a gate that he forced open, exiting them all into a tram tunnel of a ship’s corridor. While that exit had been accomplished with a small yet impressive burst of muscle, a more daunting portal easily four times its size now stood before them, bathed in pale phosphorescent light from a low-tech backup illumination system.

Is there an override?

WE CANNOT GO OVER IT.

No. Override. Do it yourself. Not the machine.

"AH. WELL. THIS IS WHERE A YOUNG GROSSTET WOULD MAKE HIS SPECTACLE FOR ALL THE WOMEN. He casually popped a panel beside the door and fiddled with something, all just using his trunk. NOW, I HAVE UNLOCKED THE DOOR. PERHAPS AN EFFORT FOR ALL?" He took up a position to one side of the seam where the massive double doors met.

Maybe I could—

NO! several people shouted before Eric could finish making his offer to use magic.

No, Jessie repeated with less panic. Only as a last resort, and only if we all agree. This ship might be fine once it has a chance to breathe.

This thing breathes? Trebla asked, and Jessie couldn’t tell which kind of an asshole he was trying to be just then: regular or intentionally dense.

Jessie ignored her laaku cousin and focused solely on her brother. We just can’t risk making it take longer. Or damaging something permanently.

Mindy examined the door. Us lot on one side, him on the other? Still don’t like our odds.

Evander Days shouldered past her. Shut up and grab a handhold. He did as he suggested.

Jessie was quick to join in. Even Eric, with the handshake grip of a fish and arms like rubber bands, joined as everyone managed to find a place to help.

All but Uom’pe and the two ratatoret, leastwise. There was such a thing as negative help, and neither an elderly tesud nor two tripping hazards were going to contribute much.

On a count of three. One… two…

THREE IS NEXT?

THREE! Jessie shouted.

In unpracticed unison, they heaved.

Whether the door was made from a variant alloy of steel, a heretofore undiscovered type of plastic, or simply just huge as fuck, it didn’t budge. One by one, they ceased, each huffing for breath.

Again! Jessie ordered. One… two…

WOULD A BIGGER NUMBER HELP?

Three!

They pulled again, to no avail. This wasn’t looking good. Bringing Eric in was not her favorite idea. He might already have destroyed most of the ship’s systems. They had to get this open the old-fashioned way.

Before Jessie could rally the group for a third attempt, Grosstet shooed them all away from the door.

ONE EFFORT. ONE CREW. SADLY NOT THIS EFFORT. I WILL MAKE YOU A CREW SOME OTHER WAY.

Jessie backed away as the haathee took up a position dead center at the seam. He dug thick fingers into the shallow handholds—even for human hands—on each side. You don’t have to try to impress us. We can—

Grosstet turned. Jessie stumbled out of the way as long tusks swung close. YOU ARE NOT IMPRESSED WITH ME ALREADY? WELL…

With that, Grosstet leaned back, craning his neck to lift his tusks out of the way, getting his chest as close to the door as possible. His grunt of effort was a trumpet blast that sent everyone ducking for cover and covering their ears. Yet, as she took shelter from the hellacious noise, she also felt the rumble of the door grating open.

When Jessie and the others looked up, it was into the shadowy reaches of a forest whose depths couldn’t be fathomed from the doorway.

WELCOME TO THE ARBORETUM.

Eric stood gaping. He hadn’t known what to expect, but his wandering imagination hadn’t prepared him for a fairytale forest. A trampled dirt path, lined with shrubbery, wound its way through a towering grove of trunks too wide to hug and a canopy faintly visible with the scant science light spilling from the emergency phosphorescents. The extent of Grosstet’s arboretum tugged at Eric’s sense of wonder and exploration. It begged for moonlight, hooting owls, frogs, and crickets.

He took a step forward. Before his shoe touched dirt, he halted, snagged on a Jessie that gripped his upper arm like a bear trap.

You nuts? Jessie demanded. "Who knows what’s in there? Let him lead the way." She jerked her head toward their host.

Grosstet twirled his trunk dramatically and swept it toward the path with a shallow bow. SAFETY IS THE WORD. GOOD AIR. SOFT GROUND. SMALL FOODS GROW.

Nuts and berries, eh? Mindy asked. She hooked a thumb at Drascz. Got anything for her? You lot don’t stomach proper protein, far as I heard.

Drascz huddled, wringing her hands. I’ll be fine.

GOOD. LET US REPOSE. Grosstet led the way into the forest, and Eric was only too eager to be second in line. The huge haathee blocked his forward view, but Eric was accustomed to treading with his eyes and feet pointed different directions.

Naw, Mindy insisted. I been round plenty of azrin. They need meat. We get the desperation of cannibals, she’s gonna be the only one dying fat.

Knock it off, Jessie snapped. This won’t get that bad. Tech usually comes back pretty quick.

She will protect us, Ovilak said softly. The vish kinah was slight of stature and spoke so little that it was easy to forget he was around.

Thanks, Jessie replied sarcastically. But it’s Grosstet’s ship. If he says it’s safe, we’re just gonna hunker down and wait out this tech blackout where there’s colony-fresh air. She took a noisy deep breath for emphasis.

Ovilak waved off her reply. Not you. The Hiroko. I have heard the Truth. We are close to where the eternal spirit dwells, deep in the space between realities. We are within her reach, her care, her—

The mini-sermon was interrupted by Evander shoving hard enough that Ovilak stumbled into Eric, who caught the smaller creature and kept him from landing on the path. Fucking cultists.

Jessie stepped in between the pair. Eric cringed at the prospect of bloodshed. Hey! We’re in this together. Lay hands on him—or anyone—again, and we’re going to have more than words.

A sudden flare of light and a whiff of smoke caught Eric’s attention. In the absence of science as a culprit, it was unusual for fire to sneak up unannounced. Grosstet turned, clutching a stubby branch in his trunk, one end alight.

Where’d you get that? Mindy demanded. You got a laser-lighter working, big fella?

SMALL CAUTION.

Precaution, Eric corrected, quickly figuring out the word the haathee wanted.

NOT THE FIRST TIME WITH NO TECH. Grosstet used his torch to light another from a bundle stored in a panel he’d pried up from the floor hidden beneath a layer of dirt while everyone else was busy bickering. Soon, a half dozen of them bore flames. Eric was left out, along with Uom’pe and the ratatoret couple. When Eric had reached for one, Jessie had given him a stern shake of her head.

She had a point. Eric didn’t have a strong track record with fire. At least not without using magic. His childhood adventures in s’mores had bordered on arson. Entire birthday cakes had been lost. The Ramsey family had been evicted from cultural festivals and campgrounds alike thanks to his inadvertent pyromania.

Grosstet led them a ways into the forest before settling down in a clearing that looked custom-built for picnics.

This is so wonderful. Do you spend much time here? Eric asked.

VERY LITTLE. I CHECK THE AIR WHEN I MUST. ALONE, THE TREES HOLD ONLY SADNESS. He settled onto a chest-high bench and heaved a sigh. "WE MUST NOW BECOME A CREW. MANY SMALL