The Expanding Universe

by Craig Martelle

  Genre: Space Opera

  The Last Human: Fire of Truth by E.E. Isherwood

  My wife loves Vampires, so I wanted to write something she might enjoy. I love the thought of that far-future day when humans stand on distant star systems and look ahead to those more distant. This story is a mashup of our two loves and what might happen if technologically brilliant, but inherently evil Vampires overthrew humanity's home and dashed for the stars in pursuit of those intrepid human explorers.

  Technology would boost the strength and longevity of many humans, offering new avenues of resistance in the long game of galactic exploration, but it would also assist the Vampires as well. Fortunately, both parties will carry their cultural baggage with them into deep space. Victory may hinge not on bombs or laser blasters, but who wants it more. The same as many of the conflicts in human history. I doubt that will ever change.

  The Last Human will be adapted into a full-length novel in 2017.

  The Last Human: Fire of Truth

  2215 years ago

  “Are you sure this will work?”

  “Doctor, I’m not positive about anything, anymore. I have to trust in this technology—in your machine—and that scares me more than the Vanguard.”

  Both men shuddered at that last word. Commander Peter Telluride more so, because he’d seen what the Vampires did to other Earth colonies firsthand. He grabbed the other man’s arm to steady him. If he couldn’t get this task completed before the burn, everything he’d done to protect his girl would be destroyed. “Just do your best, old friend.”

  The men, both original-stock humans, meaning they were born on Earth, rather than on a colony, got back to their keyboards as they sat in the control room of a military base deep under the exoplanet’s surface. The focus of their attention was the vertical tube and the attached vehicle, which sat above it. Below was a planet-wide system of tunnels.

  An attractive young woman in a tight black jumpsuit walked into the commander’s workspace. When he saw her, he had to stop what he was doing. “Mare!”

  All Vampires designated themselves with a single name, despite their peculiar hierarchy of familial relationships. Everything changed once they went into space, and bloodlines solidified with galactic geography and starship crew loyalty. But, it is important to note, Mare was not one of the Vanguard's Vampires.

  “Daddy,” she said as she reached the commander.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine. My tummy is dancing, but otherwise, I'm ready.”

  Mare was under the misguided impression she was part of a worldwide effort to save her species by putting young people into cocoons deep inside the planet. It was Peter's idea. A simple ruse to cover a complicated, and one-way, reality.

  “It would appear Doctor Davis and his team of miracle workers have beaten down all our programming glitches, and your transport will be ready before the Vanguard reaches our happy little world.”

  “That’s great news. And the other pod riders?”

  “All are ready, dear. This problem was unique to this location. We used data from the, uh, other stations to figure it out.” He smiled at his girl. “See, you’re already helping each other,” he said with the faintest break in his voice.

  She smiled with her beautiful teeth and bright blue eyes. Her delicate blonde hair was cut short, unlike the long, wild locks she had her whole life. Today she seemed almost a stranger to him. No longer a child.

  “I guess so,” she offered, with deep sadness. Hard to feel otherwise under the threat of a planetary attack. The Vampires weren’t coming to subjugate, as in most wars from human history. They were coming to terminate. It had happened on dozens of other colonies of Old Earth. It struck her as a great injustice that she and a lucky few got to live, while tens of thousands of other colonials, including her father, were destined to die.

  The Vampires had mastered the art of war in space and then took it one step further. Their ships were so massive—well beyond anything the humans could produce—all they had to do was get close to the atmosphere of a planet and open up their powerful star drives. Dump a little fuel, cause a little spark, and boom—so long planet.

  Only very deep bunkers would save some of the inhabitants for a little while. On Mare’s world, they constructed a bunker deeper than on any of the other colonies. They’d taken all they knew about the impending method of attack to try to save humanity. That, too, was part of the fiction.

  Peter knew the cruel truth about Mare and her little cocoon, but he wouldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell her. It would break his heart, and, though ashamed to agree to the necessity of it, she would not participate if she knew where he was sending her. More than saving humanity, he wanted to save her.

  “How long until launch, Dad?”

  “Not long, my darling. Not long. All the other pods are preparing to drop, just as we are. Soon, you and I must say goodbye.”

  “Will I remember this?”

  The best minds on the colony could do no more than guess. For that reason, he decided to play it safe. “Yes, of course. But, just in case you bonk your head and forget me, I want you to have this holo-frame. It has all the pictures I’ve taken of you and me over the years.”

  “Can we take one more?” Her puppy dog eyes were not to be refused.

  He voiced a simple command. “Self-photo, pair.”

  The frame flew out of his hand while they smiled together, and returned to his palm a moment later. He scrolled so the picture displayed in front of them. The life-size view of both of them was telling. The sadness on his face bled through the forced smile. Mare’s attempt was no better.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t take a happy picture for you.”

  “I think you look perfect.”

  An alarm bleated from a nearby bank of computers. “Ah, that’s the signal.” He looked at her, again wishing he didn’t have to put her through this facade.

  Other than using Dad, rather than Commander Telluride, she was always professional. She rattled off data from inside the vehicle, and the doctor replied with adjustments. The doc fine-tuned what he could. It was going to be as much art in this enterprise, as science. Nothing could factor out luck.

  “I’ll never forget you. I’ll tell the others about you when I get out.”

  Peter nodded. “You do that, sweetie. I’m honored.”

  As the machine hummed to life, Mare walked back out to stand in front of him. The doctor made himself scarce, for what was certainly the last interaction Peter would have with her.

  “I love you, Daddy. I wish I would have had more time—” she said as she choked up.

  “Trust me. No dad ever said he had enough time with his child. Not when that child is as perfect as you.”

  He smiled into her tears as he gently tilted her chin up. Though he felt the same sadness, he took comfort that what he was doing was right and that she, alone, would live through the coming calamity.

  “What do I do when the launch is over?”

  It was another part of the lie.

  “Just relax. By the time you get through the tunnels, the war will be over, and you and your friends can come back to the surface and rebuild. That’s what this is all about, right? You will live on.” He met her watery eyes, willing that above all else into her mindset.

  He'd told her the human defenders above had a terrible weapon that would eliminate the Vampire fleet, and the Vampires themselves, and thus her and her friends truly would be free of the devouring scourge.

  Peter wished it were that storybook simple.

  They hugged until the drone of the alarm forced them apart.

  “Get snug in there. Get tucked in,” he said, thinking back to tucking in a baby. Her capsule was about the size of a small transport shuttle. She’d have room to lie down, sit at a desk, or stand in the small space.

  “I will,” she said as she got into the machine. “I’ll never forget you. I love you!” Despite years of training, and her professional
attitude throughout this project, nothing was going to stop her emotions at this last moment.

  Peter felt a tear stream down his cheek.

  “I love you, too,” he mouthed.

  “Sixty seconds,” called the doctor.

  In one short minute, the capsule would drop straight down into the tunnels and be lost to him forever. He spent part of that minute marshaling his emotions. There was no shame in crying at such a time, but he couldn’t distract himself from the launch, nor did he want to make it any harder for Mare to do her duty.

  The door of the machine rattled shut with a jarring series of mechanical locks that echoed in the small facility. His heart lurched at hearing the finality of it.

  “Doctor, can you confirm the door is secure?” he said without looking up.

  A moment later, everything went to shit.

  * * *

  Present Day.

  “What happened, Di?” Maggie asked.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Diedre replied.

  “Well, you can’t leave it like that. You have to finish.”

  “Do I?” Di replied with a wry smile.

  Maggie pounced on her with lightning-fast reflexes, pushed her off her feet, and pinned her to the metal floor. Both still wore smiles. “You will tell me, or it'll become very uncomfortable for you.”

  Seeming to rise the challenge, Di looked up at her wrestling partner, and taunted her playfully, “Do your best.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment, Maggie's tumbling long blonde hair a distraction to each until she couldn’t take it any longer. “Please?” she said hopefully. “I want to hear this before we get tossed out the airlock and burned.”

  “Well, if that’s how you fight, I think I’ll take it to my fiery grave.” She tried to get up, but Maggie held firm. She wasn’t as strong as Di, but they weren’t seriously sparring.

  “Oh, suit yourself you little bitch.” Di casually continued the story. “The last human woke up from her dreamless sleep, only to find the planet had been overwhelmed by Vampires. Her dad had lied to her about the super weapon. As if humans ever had such a thing.”

  Maggie lost focus as she absorbed the implications of the fairy tale. She'd heard similar stories from Di—who seemed to be a bank of such fables—though they seldom made sense in the light of the real world.

  “But the humans survived. We're still chasing them down...”

  Di used the distraction to squirm into a position she could fight back. With a massive heave, she threw Maggie off her chest and pushed her backward. With Vampire speed she was on top of her bunkmate.

  “But you don’t get to hear the girl's fate until you can pin me—fair and square.”

  Maggie’s head rang soundly, though she wasn’t about to reveal a weakness. The Vampire navy was known for ruthless treatment of new recruits, and she’d just survived ten months of hellish hazing by the active service members. Some of whom had been in the Fleet for a thousand years. If they saw her rolling around in a playful manner with another recruit...it would be painful for them both.

  That’s what seemed to drive Di. The thrill and danger of being caught. Or, put another way, it was the exact opposite of how her mind worked. Though, she admitted, she found it hard to refuse anything Di asked of her.

  The Vampires called their fleet the Vanguard. It was shorthand for Vampire Guardian Fleet, which, in turn, was a smiley-face sticker on top of “Supreme weapon designed to douse the entire galaxy with the Vampire race.” The most ancient of Vampires—those from Earth before the cataclysm—were driven to find refuge in deep space as soon as humanity had the technology to make it possible. Later, in the war, other Vampires defeated the Humans and their lumbering space battlewagons. Once they controlled the ships, most never looked back. They disappeared with their ancient elders into the black void.

  But some stayed in the home system and improved upon the technology of man they’d wrested from them in combat. Using their superior intelligence and other “unique skills,” they found more efficient ways of shipbuilding, weapons design, and vastly improved faster-than-light travel. When you don’t have to worry about air, time, the vacuum of space, or g-forces, deep-space travel becomes easy.

  The intercom chirped, followed by a brief from the bridge crew. It was time.

  The final act of hazing—that is, training—of cadets, was the Fire of Truth. It was an homage to the destruction of Earth, and the final revelation of all the Vampires. When the planet burned, humans burned with it. Vampires, however, stood alone—burnt, and without air, but without equal. They inherited the dead planet.

  The Fire of Truth was to take place on an uninhabited asteroid in a remote planetary system. The Majestic Home Ship (MHS) Axente Sever arrived in-system yesterday. At ship's noon they were going to toss all the recruits out the airlock, let them get down to the asteroid, and bathe them in the wash of the engines for less than a second. The ultimate symbol of unity among those who chose to serve in the Vanguard.

  Most of the fleet was made up of humans who had been bitten by Vampires and kidnapped from human colonies prior to their destruction. The Fire was a way to throw off any last vestiges of their humanity. Upon successful completion, recruits would have six months to explore all the branches of the Fleet before they were to commit to their first ten-year block of service.

  Di let her go.

  “We’ll continue this another time,” Maggie said with exertion as she hopped off the floor. Di leaned over to straighten one of her skin-tight pant legs, and Maggie felt the pull of the other woman in a way that made her willing to do dangerous things. Without thinking about it, she smacked Di on the butt as hard as she could swing her arm. Diedre cried out in mock—or possibly real—pain, while Maggie slipped out the door giggling.

  If the Fleet Admiral had seen that, she'd probably be used to sweep the hanger deck.

  By contrast, Di's laughter was uninhibited. It was understood their “battle” was far from over.

  * * *

  Maggie stood in her unders with fifty other disrobed recruits. This made her uncomfortable beyond words, but it didn’t seem to bother anyone else, so she wasn’t going to be the exception. That would get her noticed, and now was not the time to literally and figuratively flame out of her class.

  She stood next to her bunk mate, maintaining order as demanded by the drillers, always hovering nearby. They had walked in formation to the airlock, stripped, and then waited for instructions. “Di, why do you think we need to be half-naked like this?” Her voice betrayed her anxiety.

  Maggie was ready to analyze the tone of her friend. She wanted a sign that she, too, felt strangely awkward at that moment. She’d been naked plenty of times with her female crewmates, but never with the men. In fact, they trained together almost all the time—mixed sexes—as there was little inherent difference in the speed, strength, and stamina between men and women Vampires—only age made one Vampire noticeably stronger than another.

  “It’s because we’re told, dummy,” Di replied from the side of her mouth.

  She read no subtext. Maggie expected such an answer. Unable to display any kind of affection, and precious little emotion, the two friends had to maintain a cold aloofness when in public. That’s what made their battle of wills in private so intense. But she wanted an answer to what should have been a very basic question. Walking out the airlock with no clothes on wasn’t her idea of training. Ceremony or not. It was suicide.

  Sure, there were rumors of Vampires surviving the cold of space, but she’d spent most of her life sealed in the metal prison of the ship, unable to see for herself whether any such flights of fancy could be true. All her training was done inside as well, including zero-g and airless combat. She assumed she'd be in tempered battle armor by now—built to withstand nuclear bombs, starship engines, and even wooden stakes.

  “This is all metaphor, isn't it Di?” she whispered again. “They aren't actually going to burn us, are they?”
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br />   “Nah, just play along,” Di replied with a touch of her private good humor.

  On the surface she was relieved. Di always seemed to be in the know with these things, and she'd gotten her through many of the relentless hazing incidents the past many months. But the stripping down nagged at her. She wasn't so sure Di had this one correct.

  A flashing blue siren began to spin on the ceiling up ahead. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to be now. Maggie felt her tummy lurch in a funny way, and she put both her hands there to steady it.

  “Attention recruits. You’ve completed your training. You’ve shown honor and bravery befitting a crewman of the Fleet. But you must share and endure the pain of our ancestors in this ritual—this rite of passage for our kind. Everything has been taken from you. This is the nadir of your journey in becoming one of us. When you get to the transport, you will all find the clothes you wore when you woke up in the Vampire family.”

  Maggie shook, a tiny bit, at that elusive memory. When she first woke up as a Vampire, she remembered dirt...it was all over her. But it was more of a sensation; she couldn't remember too many details from that first day beyond that.

  “You will put on those clothes and wear them as you go through the airlock, to your destiny.” A small melodic whistle followed, and all the recruits snapped to attention.

  “For the Vanguard!” the voice declared.

  “The Vanguard!” the recruits replied. She was both thrilled and terrified at the prospect of finally becoming a member of the Fleet. She couldn't die, as far as she knew, so she fell back on that as a comfort to combat the intense fear growing at the thought of walking outside with no protection.

  The clang of a large door echoed from ahead. Maggie could see into the spacious hold of the ship. The air drained from the sealed hallway, leaving them all in an airless vacuum. The manuals explained that even though they didn’t need air to survive, it was often pumped into the ships to make it suitable for verbal communication. They tried running ships without any air, which simplified the engineering side, but over-complicated crew interactions. On balance, it wasn’t the advantage one would think. Or so the textbooks said.