Ty exited the observation room in the space station and stepped into the corridor.
The passageway was narrow, just wide enough for four people to pass if they were standing shoulder to shoulder. The walls were bare. Ty had expected to see directional signage, but there was none.
The hallway had the same artificial gravity as the observation room. Ty was amazed by that—and the space station in general.
Growing up, he had harbored a lifelong fascination with the International Space Station. But compared to the facility he was standing in, the ISS was like a tree house. This was a mansion in space: roomy, luxurious, and polished.
A part of him wanted to explore every inch of it. He sort of hoped the direction he had chosen outside the observation deck was wrong. He wouldn’t mind seeing more of the place.
The corridor curved slightly, and after a few seconds the left-hand wall opened up to a room that looked like a cafeteria, with tables attached to the floor and a serving bar at the back.
Where the walls and ceiling of the corridors were light gray, this room was white, with even brighter lights. The four quantum historians stood in the middle of the room, facing each other.
At Ty’s arrival, they all turned to him. “We’ve discussed it,” he said.
The four mirrored helmets stared at him, showing his reflection. None of the historians responded, which was a little unnerving.
Ty pressed on. “We accept your offer. But we have some conditions.” “State your conditions.”
“First, we’d like medical treatment for each member of the team.” “Elaborate.”
“Maria has been trying to overcome her substance addiction. She needs help.”
“We can treat her here on the station in the med bay. We can expedite the alleviation of her physical dependence. But her mental challenges will remain. A mind is far harder to fix than a body.”
Ty nodded. “Kato needs help too. What he had to do in Peenemünde has had an effect on him.”
“As we said, we can heal his wounds from the fight, but fixing his mind will take time—and we don’t have technology that can do it.”
“You can’t help him?”
“No. But Dr. Brown can. And like the rest of you, some of the answers you seek, you’ll find in time, on the worlds of the multiverse.”
Ty considered that for a moment.
“Do you have other requests?” the historian asked.
“Before we came to A21, my father gave me a medication that has helped me to function. I assume you know about my condition?”
“We do.”
“I only have so much of the medication he gave me. I don’t know what it is. I need more of it. Or a cure.”
“We can provide neither.” “Why?”
“Because we’re not entirely sure what your condition is. It’s a type of quantum sickness, a category of disorders that is new to us. We are studying it, and have been for quite some time.”
“Why?”
The historian cocked its head. “Ask the other question you came to ask.”
He took a step deeper into the cafeteria. “On my world, before we came here, it was clear to me that my father knew more about what was happening than he told me. He had the medication I needed. He knew a lot about the Covenant, and what was going to happen. How?”
“It might be better if you don’t know. We offer you this opportunity to withdraw the question.”
“I want to know. Have you already interfered with our world? Are you responsible for us being here?”
“We made the decision, that if we arrived at this juncture, we would allow your father to tell you.”
The words echoed in the cafeteria.
Ty blinked, mentally trying to catch up. “I want to see him.” “Very well.”
