Len Kondrel stepped out of his cramped quarters into the dim hallways of starship Atlantis.
He registered all the sounds he couldn't hear in his apartment: soft thuds as the ship slid through hyperspace, the distant whistle of the quark reactor, and underneath everything the deep rumble of the Omnidrive.
On this level the corridors were narrow but sound traveled far. Time to go to work.

   Len entered the Neumann factory. In these bright workbays any of Atlantis's trillion components could be duplicated. If necessary the ship could even build a copy of itself, though that would take centuries.
He passed a room of robot arms overhauling a shuttlecraft. Rotating arrays of instruments swept through with lightning precision.
   He reached a balcony overlooking a hilly jungle. A formation of cranes flew before the volcano on the horizon. Len ignored the illusion. He would see stranger things today.
   Full of diverse scenery, the starship made the most of its million cubic meters of living space. He walked up a steep ramp through a blue glass tunnel as the gravity decreased. On the other side crates were piled high with products from a dozen worlds. Len was more interested in what lay ahead.

   "Len Kondrel to the bridge," a voice from nowhere said.
   "On my way," he responded.
   The nearest transport tube was a few steps away in the navigation sector. Len usually avoided the narrow atrium running the height of the ship.
The navigators sat expressionlessly in their towering workstations, running proximity scans as Atlantis approached a multi-dimensional interchange leading literally everywhere.
   Atlantis was a spherical space station inside a traveling wormhole. It used the flexible geometry of hyperspace to link distant points in normal space.
Len knew their luck would eventually run out, but the risk on each individual mission was tolerable, so he kept re-signing. Some starships lost their way in hyperspace. Some had probably reached other universes, their crews adapting to unimaginable conditions.
   Outside was a wraparound canvas of the purest blackness. Wormholes had no internal energy. Very rarely, fast blurs could be seen in the distance, leading to the belief among Traders that hyperspace was inhabited.
   The outside lights came on, revealing their strangely curved surroundings. In all directions, identical copies of Atlantis appeared to fly in formation. Between them spacesuited figures emerged to prepare a probe. The distorted geometry limited their outside exposure to fifteen minutes.
Len's skill was diplomacy.
   He stepped into a tube, the door closing seamlessly behind him. For an instant, the tube gravity cycled through negative one thousand gees and back. No time to feel the free-fall before he reached the other end of the ship.

He emerged in the bridge antechamber, a sea of activity. The main bridge was a maze of consoles under a low ceiling, staffed by tense officers. Captain Licul Stenson was waiting.
   "We'll need your services," she said. "The Onos system has changed since the last visit."
   "Let's hope so," Len responded.
   In five thousand years of space exploration, no evidence of aliens had ever been found. However, human colonies changed almost as much, often inventing useful technologies and ways of living. A fleet of starships like Atlantis linked the colonies through trade and cultural exchanges, even if the bonds were becoming more tenuous.
   "Entering normal space," a navigator announced.
   The ship shuddered and groaned. An image appeared onscreen, thousands of parallel lines against a black background. Distorted star images. The end of the exit wormhole was spinning so fast the outside view was a blur. Thrusters fired to stop the rotation. The stars slowed into points, and a bright globular cluster spun into view, a hundred thousand suns orbiting each other. Near the core of the cluster the lights were packed so close together they seemed to merge into a glowing fog.
"Acquiring reference frame."
Atlantis had returned to the known universe. The wormhole stretched to its greatest circumference and popped out of existence, leaving the starship on a high-speed trajectory through the Onos system. The local sun came into view, a tiny blinding light. Next to the distant O-class star was a dim red oval: a neutron star accretion disk. A barely visible curving string of plasma connected the oval to the main star. The core of the neutron star devouring the disk was made of strange matter, layers of free-flowing quarks.
During the last starship visit, the people of Onos had been planning to harvest it. The extracted energy could power a vast civilization.
   "In 1.2 million years that neutron star will collapse into a black hole," an astronomer declared.
   "Are they planning that far ahead?" the captain wondered.
   "I'm sure they are," Len said. "The people of Onos made quite an impression on the captain of Nautilus. He thought they might rule the galaxies."
   In the following hours their destination approached: a white globe with no discernible cloud patterns. Onos resembled Venus but was smaller. The planet did not reply to Atlantis's hails. There were no satellites or spaceships in the stellar system.
   "We've radar-mapped the planet through a full rotation," the cartographer said. "The surface is smooth and solid, with no structures of any kind."
   "I wonder where they went," the captain said.
   "They couldn't have Transformed," Len thought.
   On two occasions, colonies had achieved extremely high technology levels, and ceased interacting with outsiders. Observed from a safe distance, the planets had changed beyond recognition. The rate of change had sped up by the hour, then by the second.
   On both occasions the process had suddenly stopped, the planets' energy outputs falling to zero. Investigators had found lifeless deserts with a few incomprehensible artifacts to puzzle over. It was speculated the inhabitants had either committed suicide or moved to a higher reality.
   "Extremely unlikely," the captain decided. "They weren't advanced enough for that."
She turned to a science officer. "Prepare a robot probe to take a closer look. Turn this planet inside out."
   "OK."

The probe was fast and small. Below the clouds, the planet's surface was a thick shell of ice over a deep ocean. The probe melted through the ice at the equator, where it was thinnest. The ocean underneath was so deep the temperature at the bottom exceeded the boiling point of water. Its vast weight was supported by a layer of compressed polywater at a phase transition, liquid steam resting on liquid magma.
Just when the probe had determined the ocean was sterile, it ceased transmitting.

   A vibration moved through the ship. Alarms went off.
   "Just below our shield limits," the captain noted icily.
   An officer near the captain's platform didn't look up. "We were hit by a focused particle beam," he said. "It was a warning shot. The beam originated from the largest crater on their moon Bildung. Their moons are fortresses."
   "Incoming transmission from a large vessel three hundred kilometers away."
   "Where did that come from?" the captain wondered. "Let's listen."
   The deep voice barely paused between sentences. "Your presence is a disturbance to the serenity of the Divine Realm. The Purity Division will conduct a Cleansing. Prepare for boarding and full decontamination."
   "Diplomacy Section can generate a response," Len suggested.
   "No time," captain Stenson said, activating the microphone icon. Linked to the ship's AI, it would only transmit what they wanted the other side to hear.
   "Glad to make your acquaintance," she said. "Forgive us if we're unenthusiastic about the boarding."
   Atlantis was not invulnerable, but it had many defenses. There was no way to capture it intact, and if necessary it could devastate the nearest moon.
   She turned to Len. "What can you tell me about those idiots?"
   "They must still know greed. We are valuable to them."
   "Good point." She reactivated the mike. "We bring you new products from distant worlds," she said. "Technologies beyond your wildest dreams."
   "Nothing you bring could be of interest to the Realm," the voice responded.
   "At the very least they should care about military applications," Len suggested.
   The captain asked the unseen voice. "Aren't you curious about what the other colonies have developed in the past centuries? Can you afford not to know?"
   There was a long pause.
   "Acceptable. You may attempt to sell approved products. Trade negotiations will proceed through a remote interface to avoid direct contact between your crew and citizens of the Realm."
   "I'm afraid that's unacceptable," the captain said. "Traders have a long tradition of getting to know their customers. We'll have to send a small team to your world, to verify payment using Standard Protocols. I promise they won't disturb a thing."
   The tradition dated back to the first Ceres colony. No civilization could be allowed to keep secrets.
   The silence was ominous. Then the voice said: "You may send two Standard emissaries. They may not interfere with our society in any way. If they abuse this privilege, you will be held accountable."

Len and assistant negotiator Adria Vale finally left the oppressive meeting room deep inside Onos.
   "A marvelous world," he told his companion.
   Adria knew what he meant. For the past hour they had faced a wall of monolithic bureaucrats that fortunately didn't look alike.
   After ten hours, Len had almost made up his mind about Onos.
   A windowless pod had picked them up from Atlantis and delivered them to a representative sector of the Realm. There was no capital or central business district. The planetwide ocean contained a submerged fleet of identical spheres suspended in the darkness below the ice, powered geothermally.
Lifetimes in the Realm were planned out before birth. Not knowing any better, the population experienced less pleasure and worked harder than almost anywhere else. Grids of identical hallways reminded him of robot anthills. Everything was sterile, with no distractions to break the monotony.
They had visited an indoctrination school, sitting in on a class in control logic. The students listened and took identical notes, never interrupting to ask questions, as they ignored their extraordinary visitors.
   Turning a corner, Len spoke in code. "We're in trouble," he told Adria. "Us and them."

   Strangely enough, none of the globes were connected, and they had few transport arteries. The rooms and halls were short and narrow. Even Atlantis, barely one hundred thirty meters across, had larger spaces.
   Earlier, they had passed through a curving tunnel and emerged in an area where everything seemed subtly different. A few traces of individuality remained. Len analyzed them without moving his eyes. What had just happened?
That tunnel worried him. Len thought he'd sensed a minute change in the gravity. They had followed a curve, but it had felt like a straight line. No doubt it was a mental effect. He had the impression they'd traveled a great distance.

   He spoke with Adria in Trader code. Onos recorded every word, but the top layer of their conversation was innocent chatter.
   "They use wormholes for everything," Len said. "See these hidden doors in the walls? Gateways to distant sectors of their empire. Handy for waste disposal. They keep track of the mass balance in both directions to maintain the field tension."
   "Which explains why their solar system appears deserted," she said. "They don't need spaceships anymore."
   "They could establish doorways across interstellar distances," he added.
   "I bet they've tried. At that distance, travelers might arrive inverted or worse."
   Len considered their mission. He hadn't given up all hope. "I doubt they'll share this technology with us. So what are they going to pay us with?"
   "They have a substantial strange matter stockpile," Adria said.
   "That should do."

   Their official minder, Nalar Vamaran, walked beside them. An imposing figure of uncertain gender, (s)he resisted all attempts at conversation while herding them between meetings.
   They were headed to another of the three dimensional stadiums these people favored. The feeling of eyes staring from all directions, even overhead, was somewhat anesthetizing.
   Each stadium was surrounded by mazes of passageways and alleys. These would come in handy.
   Len recognized the interchange pattern of converging corridors. Traffic flowed between nodes. This wouldn't take long.
   Now! he thought. There were few doors or movable barriers on Onos. Allowing their minder to lead the way, he simply turned left and kept walking.
   Nalar knew instantly something was wrong, but (s)he had never experienced deceit before, except during simulations. Len was glad they had only been assigned one minder to avoid cultural contamination.
There was a disturbance behind him, the sound of orders. Shouting was rare on this planet. Nalar was closing in. He had to hurry.
   "Excuse me," he said, grabbing a passerby. The woman froze in abject horror. "I'm looking for the stadium," he said.
   The woman saw through his disguise. The wardrobe department on Atlantis had replicated these people's gray garments, and his hair and skin were also altered, but something inevitably gave him away.
   He could effortlessly defeat any encryption, no matter how complex, but the locals followed countless unknowable rules every minute of their day.
Fear rippled through the bystanders, clearing a path for him. Nalar was blocked by the panicking crowd. Len ducked past the natives.

Now came the hard part.
   There was one thing Onos didn't know yet. New Traders could adapt to any situation. Every aspect of his bearing changed, and now he really was one of them, walking calmly in the other direction. He passed within steps of Nalar but (s)he never saw him.
   Len couldn't read the tiny, ultra-complex script yet, but he imitated the commuters perfectly. A group formed and moved to a sliding footpath, lining up in an orderly manner he managed to duplicate. Fortunately they didn't use money. Low doors closed as the path started to roll. The solid floor somehow split and weaved, carrying its passengers like a river. Len thought his manner of leaning forward was slightly out of sync, but the other commuters didn't notice. Observing them, it took only seconds to learn how to change lanes. When he felt confident, he moved to the fastest strip.
   To them this infiltration would seem like magic, and in a way it was. Quantum Entropy Feedback amplified the most interesting future into reality, while minimizing all the possible realities in which he was captured or killed.
As expected, the architectural features became grander, not in scale but in style and character. He was moving upstream, toward the center of power.
   The sights were unfamiliar, but he remembered everything he saw.
   Even their security forces might be confused by wormholes. This delayed Len's capture by almost a minute. An alarm bleeted and the lights went out. The sliding path halted. He rocked forward.
   He stood motionless with the other commuters. Earthers would have made a scene by now.
   Voices approached, painful flashes as commuters were scanned one by one.
   "Where is he?" a new voice said. Nalar had been replaced by someone tougher.
   In an instant the voice was fifty meters closer. Impressive, he had to admit. "Do not move," it hissed.
   "I got lost," Len wailed. "Can you help me find Nalar Vamaran?"
   "Your deception is blatantly obvious. You have gained nothing."
   Len had seen enough. They were aliens to each other.

   Len brooded as the shuttle pod approached Atlantis's secure airlock. The automatic transfer through the ocean, the smooth ice shaft, and the gray atmosphere had lasted only minutes, and then the shuttle had boosted to c-speed for a very short flight.
   After completing their report in the Diplomatic Section, the emissaries returned to the ship's bridge to await the Divine Council's judgment. It was a long wait.
   "Nothing you offer is of any value to us," the featureless voice finally announced. "Trade would serve no purpose."
   "In that case we'll be on our way," the captain said. "Many other civilizations await."
   The voice continued implacably, and Len began to wonder if this would be his last second. It would take years for the Fleet to arrive . . .
   "As you have verified through the use of forbidden psionics, we have perfected the science of wormholes," it said. "Under no circumstance will we share this technology. In a few centuries we will be able to instantly travel any distance. Our empire will spread evenly throughout the Universe and we will be One."
   "They'll link all their egos too," Adria muttered.
   The captain pondered. This civilization would try to eliminate all outsiders. Atlantis might be their first casualty.
   "Do you have something to say, Kondrel?"
   Len had no way of knowing how many people were listening. Somehow he had to convince Onos it was against its interests to start a war now.

   "Let me tell you something you don't know," he began.
   He hadn't seen their defense installations, but he'd seen enough.
   He remembered a chamber with doorways in all directions, like a hall of mirrors organized hierarchically. The rapid transit sidewalk bounced from room to room, steadily approaching a center.
   His next sentence would determine their fates. "Your strength is your weakness," he said. "You live in one big room. You need the wormhole doorways to keep control, but they could just as easily spread viruses and destructive energy. Your society is unstable. To prevail, it must learn to break into smaller units when necessary. This is something you cannot do."
   "Never have your threats been more transparent," the voice spoke. "All our wormholes have safety cutoffs and firewalls."
   "They're grasping at straws," Adria assured the captain. For all its sinister self-assurance, Onos had a deep-rooted insecurity, like certain bullies.
   Conversationally, Len added: "Your civilization is the highest expression of a perfect pattern. You can't stand asymmetry. Your spheres are identical. You don't use money or other incentives, yet all citizens follow the same plan with 99% efficiency. They've never even been outside in their lives. I believe the first truly unpredictable encounter could destroy you from within, but you may do a lot of damage before then. We want to avoid that."
   "Your ignorance exposes your inferiority," came the reply. "We will deal with all threats in our own time."
   "They also fear embarrassment," Adria added. "That history lesson they gave us was a pack of lies."
   "No need to bring that up," the captain said.
   Time for Len to play his trump card. He considered dozens of scenarios.

"I believe your citizens can't disobey orders. That helped me infiltrate your network. It's easier to monitor behavior than thoughts. We would only need to 'cure' a few Onosians by raising their intelligence levels, then secretly return them to your society, and watch the fun begin."
   The brief silence seemed longer. He suspected their first factions were forming now.
"The Divine Realm has no further interest in you," the voice said. "You are hereby ordered to leave the Onos system within 100 seconds. Do not return."
   The pilot, who had prepared for departure within one second, relaxed. Len and Adria looked at each other.
   "We need to keep an eye on these people," he said. "Maybe the Szeralians could set up a smuggling network. They're starved for entertainment under the ice." The right data could penetrate any barrier.
   "This concludes our first mission," the captain sighed. "I hope our next stop is more productive." Nineteen destinations remained in their itinerary. It would be a long journey.
   Before severing the link, the captain spoke some final words of peace: "Hopefully we can meet again under better circumstances. The universe is big enough for all of us."
   The communicator did not broadcast her next words: "For now."


The best hard SF novel ever written: Infinite Thunder by Jack Arcalon.
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