The Crypt at the End of Time

“Martin…what is this place?”

The intricate web of the jump-gate network was the backbone society. Without it, every star system would be as isolated as if it were its own self-contained universe, at least as far as humans were concerned. But the jump-gates weren’t built by humans. They were built by someone else; someone long gone.

Jump-gates were no more difficult or dangerous to use than your own front door: just step through. They were strictly point-to-point, from one preordained destination to another. No calibration or upkeep necessary, or even possible. Or so Deb had thought.

The jump-gate in the port city of Ebbtide in the Delta Pavonis system where Deb and Martin both lived was connected to the garden moon Cambyses at Phi Gruis. But this time, when Martin grabbed her hand and crossed the threshold with her, they arrived somewhere else.

Somewhere terrible.

The air was thick with pale green fog. A sound that might have been the warning call of crashing waves against defiant shores of stone rose and fell somewhere nearby but unseen. It was warm, humid, and the still air stagnant. A smell of rot. The uneven ground was rocky and lifeless.

Martin laughed. “I call it the Crypt at the End of Time.”

“Why on Holy Earth would you call it that?”

“You got a better name? You haven’t even seen the half of it yet.” He walked into the fog.

“Martin, come back here right now. I mean it!”

But his silhouette became only more defuse, and Deb at last chased after him. She raced forward and grasped at his elbow.

“Tell me right now, where are we? How did you reroute the jump-gate?”

He grinned and removed his free hand from his jacket pocket. He opened it up to reveal a ball of some sort, dull silver with intricate etchings. Etchings eerily like those on the jump-gates themselves.

“Found it in a junk pit. I thought I’d sell it on Cambyses or maybe one of the scrap houses on Revner, but every time I take it through a jump-gate it brings me here.” He stuffed the thing back in his pocket. “Always takes me back to Ebbtide though. Anyway, look.”

Deb followed his eyes up. Shadows stood in the mist on spindly legs supporting massive bulky shapes. They were impossibly tall, several kilometers each. And there were dozens of them.

“They’re buildings,” said Martin. “Some kind of archive, I think.”

“You’ve been up there?”

“I peeked around a little.”

“Martin, I don’t like this at all. I want to go home.”

“Not yet,” he said. “I want you to see for yourself.”

“See what? Some dusty old alien library?”

“Who said it was alien? I want you to see why I call it the Crypt at the End of Time.”