Kara Discovered: Episode 1, The Gate is Opened

Jeffries readies himself to command a mission he doesn’t want. His men would be half blind, with no technology on an infinite world older than he thought anything could be. But the legion calls.

Feb 12, 2025

Jefferies stared at his wall screen in sour disgust as the annoying alarm filled the room and looked back down at the protest he’d been filing. It would have been his seventh since taking command of this platoon. In that moment, the alarm cut off and the station’s speaker came to life. “The Gate to the Fourth Universe is now open and stable. All critical readings taken are green. The mission is a go. Exploration party, assemble and prepare to depart.” The wall screen changed, and a view of a small spiny plant sitting in desert sand appeared.

That was different. Sand, rock, or lifeless water. Those had been showing up every time they opened a portal to this strange universe. But that was the first plant, or any other life detected in that universe. The sidebar said that the air was breathable instead of the usual CO2-N2 mix they found every time they opened a gate onto this madhouse of a universe, so plants and bacteria were here. But damn, it was hot. 10° C hotter than the other times that they open a gate there. Yet 41° C was two degrees short of an automatic abort, but that made it orange, not green as the announcement had said. What else was borderline?

Buy Me a Coffee

Hitting delete on his computer screen, he watched that protest vanish. There was no point in filing yet another protest, no matter how insane this mission was. Now it was go, or resign. But, honor ruled out dumping this mess on another officer even though this insane rush made no sense. This universe wasn’t going anywhere. They could spend decades if they needed studying it before sending people, and they damn well should. So why wouldn’t they?

A grimace ran up his back as he stood. Something was wrong about it but he didn’t have any idea what. Opening his locker, he took out the grayish monochrome coveralls that replaced his uniform and began dressing. Soon he had on clothing that felt like it was made out of heavy grade sandpaper. With exaggerated care, he sat down to put on shoes made of the same stuff, yet he still managed to abrade himself slightly on one inner thigh. Legionnaires are tough, but it was insane to tell them to carry out a mission in these, even if they were supposed to be soft in the other universe. No one had put that to the test yet, so he had his doubts. Putting on those damn shoes made of the same stuff, only thicker, so they didn’t abrade his feet, was a time-consuming chore.

Those clothes had triggered his first official protests. Between the shoes and the clothing, only three of his eighty men made it on the first drill, still fit enough to carry out the mission all those months ago. Only daily drills dressing after that, had made it possible for him to have his men able to turn out fit for duty, though not one managed not to get some scratches putting the bastard things on even today. His men hated him and his drills, but at least now they could get dressed on time and get to the gate and still be fit enough to carry out their task. That was something anyway.

He reached for the belt holding the javelins and his canteen, the very reason that he, a lieutenant less than a century old, and with only two planet drops as an officer, and none as the senior officer, was given command of this mission. Modern weapons would not work there. The physics of that universe prohibited them. They needed an officer who could use primitive weapons to train and command this mission. That meant choosing him, Lieutenant Peter Jefferies, ex-history professor, kicked out of his teaching post at the University of Heinlein for the very unsocial habit of learning how to kill with primitive weapons, to command this insane venture.

Lastly, he grabbed the thick eyeglasses. They were on a thick cord made of the same thing as the uniform. The cord went around his neck, and the annoying glasses hung down on his chest. Those glasses were supposed to allow him to see once he crossed to the other universe. The glasses were useless white translucent junk here but were supposed to work there where the rules of refraction were quite different. But again, he had his doubts.

Stepping from his room with great care, he stepped onto the hover disk that all men from his command now use when wearing these ridiculous coveralls since that first disastrous drill. It rose, and he shifted his weight and started down the hall toward the gate room, dread filling him.