by Rich Handley
None of the Venturer crew, nor the Travellers, said what they were all thinking—this was a one-way trip. If Alan was successful, he would die in the orbital blast.
“Why you, Alan?” asked Judy.
Addressing his fellow astronauts, Alan was defiant. “Because with Brent gone, I’m the senior officer. No one under my command takes a risk I’m not willing to take myself. And I’m the best pilot here.” He quickly frowned, then added sheepishly, “No offense intended, of course.”
Solemnly, Jeff replied for them all. “None taken, Colonel.”
After a pause, Caesar closed his eyes and nodded once. “Go.”
Alan acknowledged.
Everyone exploded into action.
* * *
Virgil had gone missing.
Caesar had noticed the orangutan’s absence after Alan’s plan had been put into motion. Knowing his friend, the chimpanzee found him back in the cathedral, alone and buried underneath the malfunctioning control console. With Cornelius’ tools in hand, Virgil was attempting to fix the unfixable.
It was, of course, hopeless.
“Virgil, that won’t work,” Caesar reasoned. “Alan’s plan is the only way.”
Finally accepting the folly of his efforts, the orangutan philosopher exhaled. Caesar sat down on the altar’s steps, patting the stone next to him.
“I have but five minutes, Virgil. Sit with your king. Caesar needs your counsel.”
A dirtied and disheveled Virgil climbed out from beneath the control panel and brushed off his clothes. Sitting beside his friend and leader, he spoke. “On what matter does Caesar require counsel?”
The chimpanzee drew an abyssal breath. “Virgil, my parents have not traveled backward in time.”
The Travellers were responsible for this. A Doctor Milo had found a damaged starship in the Forbidden Zone and had repaired it. The Unknown Ape had ensured Cornelius and Zira were not on that spacecraft when it launched. Faulty heat tiles caused the ship to explode in mid-flight, killing Milo and the others aboard.
“I have saved their lives. Stopped them from suffering a grizzly death, two thousand years before they were born.”
Virgil nodded, proud of Caesar’s accomplishments, and the role he had played in making them a reality.
“I have prevented my mother from birthing me in the distant past,” the chimp continued. He had broken the cycle. But something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Seeing his friend’s distress, Virgil put his hand on the chimpanzee’s shoulder. “Caesar?”
“Oh, Virgil,” Caesar dropped all pretense of confidence. “If I have altered destiny, then tell me, why am I still here?”
Virgil paused.
“I—” the orangutan started to speak, then stopped in mid-thought. Would altering the timeline erase Caesar from existence? Finally, he came to a conclusion with which he was not at all familiar. “I… had not considered that.”
As Virgil had defined it, time was an infinite motorway that possessed an infinite number of lanes replete with automobiles. A driver in lane A might have a fatal accident, while one in lane B might survive. As that suggested, a driver might change his lane to change his destiny, but the outcome of that change would still be unknown. It was a blind choice, but it was a choice nonetheless.
While there were, indeed, an infinite number of timelines, they had moved forward within their own, hadn’t they? If, then, Caesar had altered destiny, should he still exist?
They had always known changing the future would create a new timeline, and had hoped it would become one in which apes were not responsible for Earth’s destruction. But they had expected to branch off from the future from which Caesar’s parents had come—had assumed it was their own. Since they had first arrived, however, Caesar had suspected something was wrong.
It was the year 3980. According to their taped testimony, Caesar’s parents had witnessed the Earth’s destruction in the year “thirty-nine fifty—something.” Assuming, at first, that the starship in which they had escaped had a faulty chronometer, they had dismissed any inconsistencies.
But that suspicion had gnawed at Caesar more and more, the longer they had been here. This Cornelius and Zira lived in a technologically advanced society, not a pre-industrial one as the tapes had described.
“Virgil, they are not my parents, are they.” It was a statement—not a question. The Zira and Cornelius here were but alternative versions of his mother and father.
Virgil reluctantly shook his head. “We must have deviated into another splinter of existence,” the orangutan hypothesized, “another lane of time’s highway. We have been changing the course of another future, not ours.”
Caesar had been fighting to save an Earth. But not his Earth. Not his parents.
* * *
The fate of the world was at stake, and Alan Virdon did not intend to let it down.
Suited up with his helmet under his arm, the former Air Force colonel walked the long deck of the launch gantry, headed for Probe Nine’s cockpit. His thoughts were of old friends and family. Sally. Chris. Pete. Galen. Even Jonesy. Alan hoped that somewhere in some time—any time—they were well.
Jeff and Judy had just finished programing the navigation computer. MacDonald and Virgil had said their goodbyes. Now it was down to him and his starship.
The Underdwellers and their allies had modified Probe Nine so much that—aside from her familiar delta-shaped command capsule—he barely recognized her. Her slaved Gas Dynamic Fusion Drive system had been replaced with an integrated EmDrive—technology invented nearly two hundred years after he was born. Constructed from ancient scrap, this new engine was a far superior design, made from far inferior parts.
It would have to do.
Alan addressed the ship. “Well,” he smiled, caressing her hull, “you’re the only girl in town.”
“Alan, a moment, please.”
Caesar was approaching. Behind him were Zaius and Krador, the Underdwellers’ leader. Alan could guess what this was.
“The ship is still being prepped for launch.” Taking Alan’s helmet from him, the ape king motioned toward those behind him. “Allow them their gratitude.”
“Of course.” Alan smiled at the planet’s leaders. As he neared them, Alan thought about the stubborn nature of time. It seemed intent on conforming to its original path, despite any and every deviation intelligent beings might force upon it.
Travel through the Hasslein Curve had inevitably connected him with multiple gorilla generals named Urko and orangutan councilors called Zaius. This era’s Urko, just as the one he had met in the past, had become an adversary. This Zaius, however, was far different from the one he had encountered before.
This Zaius, Alan reflected, is reasonable.
The orangutan leader was the first to extend his hand in friendship. “You do us a great service.” Alan shook his hand. “If we survive today, I will do everything possible to make the council sue for peace with mankind,” Zaius turned his head toward Krador, “and the Underdwellers as well.”
The cloaked and hooded Underdweller leader stepped forward.
“Think of it,” Krador all but whispered. “Peace in our time, thanks to you. May we be worthy of your sacrifice.”
Alan beamed. Since he had first arrived in an ape-dominated future, he had believed that all intelligent creatures should learn to live and work together as equals. Now it looked like his dream would finally bear fruit.
Too bad I won’t be around to see it.
As the leaders dispersed, Alan started to climb into Probe Nine’s nose hatch.
“One more thing,” Caesar added.
“Yes?” Alan turned to face the chimpanzee just as his helmet smacked him across his face.
The astronaut’s limp form collapsed against the ship’s hatch. Lowering the headgear he had just used to bludgeon his friend, Caesar replied, “You forgot your helmet.”
Soon, Probe Nine was on her way.
* * *
“Who’s flying Probe Nine?” a confused Jeff Allen asked.
In the cavernous underground hangar of the Underdwellers, human, mutant, and ape alike conferred. They had found Alan unconscious on the launch gantry right after liftoff. Now, Cornelius administered a potent balm to the underside of Alan’s nose. From the stench of it, MacDonald reasoned, it must be this century’s equivalent of smelling salts. Noting who among their group was missing, he and Virgil exchanged worrisome glances.
Alan moaned. Before the astronaut was lucid enough to respond, MacDonald answered Jeff’s question. “Who else,” he said, speaking mournfully, “but the Unknown Ape?”
* * *
Virgil was desperate to raise Caesar on the TX-12 communicator. MacDonald knew Caesar would have switched his radio off.
No interference.
He tried his best to comfort the distressed orangutan.
A conscious but dazed Alan Virdon spoke up. “By now, he’s reached orbit. He’s only got a few minutes to find that missile and knock it out of the sky.” Alan sighed. “I just don’t know if he can do it. Caesar doesn’t have the flight experience. If our trajectory calculations are off, or if the missile is late because of the damage it took…”
Alan trailed off. Nothing more needed to be said on the matter. Caesar was now their only hope.
Virgil slumped. “I only wanted to say goodbye.”
“And you shall.”
Judy and Krador approached. As Judy put her arm around Virgil, the psionic leader of the Underdwellers continued to speak. “Allow me to help both of you.”
* * *
Probe Nine’s afterburners fluttered and quit as she silently glided over the rim of the Earth. The ship’s attitude thrusters fired intermittently, performing minute adjustments to keep her on course. Caesar had reached orbit with no issues. Now, he performed three full sensor sweeps and found nothing. He was beginning to fret that the missile had already begun its descent, and he had missed it.
Perhaps Alan was better suited for this after all, he thought.
Abruptly, other thoughts shared his own.
Caesar.
The chimpanzee’s heart thumped hard in his spacesuit as the voice flooded his brain.
This is Krador.
“Krador,” Caesar said in annoyance, gripping the ship’s controls tighter. “I am a little busy right now. Perhaps you could call on me later?”
I am linking your mind to those of your friends.
“You are what?”
Caesar, it’s Alan. The missile may be in a different orbit than we plotted. The damage Urko did—
“Understood, Alan.” Relieved he would have help, Caesar acquiesced. “Tell me what to do.”
* * *
T plus 37 minutes.
It was now past Alan’s time estimate for the missile’s descent. Despite the help from Krador and his friends, Caesar still found nothing. At any moment, the bomb might ignite the atmosphere and kill the entire planet. Soon, he would tell his friends goodbye.
Stabbing at the control panel one finger at a time, he put the ship into a roll. Probe Nine spun on her axis, settling upside down relative to her previous orientation. Caesar gazed up and out the forward viewport. Instead of the star-filled void, he saw the azure curve of the Earth.
Lovely.
A glint of light caught the chimpanzee’s eye. Its orbit suspect, a lazy projectile rolled and wobbled its way toward the terminus into night.
“Wait a moment!” Caesar exclaimed. Checking the sensor scope, he confirmed his suspicions. It was there. Before he had rolled the ship, its approach vector had been masked by Probe Nine’s ventral blind spot. Its tardiness, no doubt, was a result of the damage it had suffered in the cathedral.
The Alpha-Omega Bomb.
“I can see it!” Caesar yelled, elated. “It’s closer to the Earth than me.” Caesar thought the missile’s coordinates to them. “What do I do now?”
The astronauts’ minds grew dark. Defeated.
“Gentlemen,” the chimpanzee inquired, “would you like to share your dilemma?”
It was Jeff who thought first.
If she’s crossed into night, she’s approaching target. We are only hours from dawn here. The range is too far, Caesar. Even with boosters at full burn, you’ll never make it.
Caesar was silent.
If I may, Virgil’s thoughts flooded their minds, I recommend an intercept course regardless, followed by a short burst from the EmDrive.
The EmDrive was designed to gradually accelerate Probe Nine to near-light speeds. It seemed feasible that it could instead be used to cross thousands of miles in an instant—and then stop.
Alan’s and Jeff’s thoughts exploded. Yes! My God, Virgil, that just might do it.
“Virgil,” Caesar responded, “you are the greatest mind of our time.” After a thought, he added, “or any other.”
Ah, thank you, Virgil thought. Caesar imagined him blushing.
Set the EmDrive for, say, let me see… Virgil performed the calculations in his head… 0.003 seconds. That will put you right on top of it.
Better yet, thought Caesar, why not go right through it?
Jeff and Virgil fed him new intercept coordinates, and thought him through the procedure. Caesar did not set the EmDrive for a small burst, however. Instead, the engine would cut out well past his target. He wouldn’t just get close to the missile and try to knock it off course; he would use Probe Nine to cleave the Alpha-Omega Bomb in two.
Indicator lights intensified as the EmDrive approached full power. In a minute or two, Probe Nine would become a deadly projectile of his own. Then he could obliterate the doomsday weapon—and himself with it.
Caesar put his affairs in order. Saying his goodbyes to Virgil and the others, he requested that Krador put him in thought contact with Cornelius.
“Cornelius, there is something I need to tell you, and there isn’t much time.”
On the sensor scope, the Alpha-Omega Bomb slowed its looping orbit and began to alter course. Its ventral side flickered yellow-orange as it kissed the atmosphere.
Caesar spoke fast. “This might not make sense to you, but—”
The chimpanzee archeologist interrupted. I understand, Caesar.
He had called him Caesar. Not “the Unknown Ape.”
Virgil told me everything, Cornelius’ thought transmission continued. Since you arrived, you have always avoided Zira and me. Every time there was danger, however, you were there, watching over us. I now know why.
“I don’t know what to say,” Caesar admitted.
Then say nothing, Caesar. You have a mission to complete.
“Cornelius,” Caesar started, “I am not from your timeline.” He had to be sure the other ape understood. “Not really your son—”
Yes. But in another world—another lifetime—I am your father. Had we more time, I would have liked to explore that here with you, I think.
A light on the engineering panel strobed green—the EmDrive was ready. A single tear bled down Caesar’s cheek.
Caesar threw the switch. In the end, it was Cornelius who said goodbye.
Godspeed, my son.
The EmDrive fired.
Her speed a fraction of light, the dart that was Probe Nine threw herself at her target. No one—man, mutant, or ape—could maintain consciousness at that sudden an acceleration.
Darkness swallowed Caesar.
Probe Nine sliced through the Alpha-Omega missile just as it began its descent. The wrathful bomb detonated on contact.
A rampant ball of gamma rays ruptured space itself. Probe Nine did not escape the doomsday weapon’s fury. Instead, the meteoric force crumpled her like a paper airplane. The sky dissolved in a brilliant blast of white light.
* * *
In the Forbidden Zone, human, ape, and mutant alike gathered to witness the expanding aurora above. A chroma of crimsons, corals, and vermilions saturated the deep-blue sky. The colossal blast illuminated the desert, transforming nig
ht to day. Underdwellers were forced to shield their eyes. The others looked on in awe.
Vivid colors frolicked while charged particles danced in the atmosphere. Electromagnetic waves took shape and savaged the planet’s machines. In the Forbidden Zone, any unshielded electronics the Underdwellers possessed fell victim to the high-altitude explosion.
Miles away, Ape City suffered an immediate and final blackout. Every car battery died. Every transistor blew. Every circuit board shorted. But the planet was not devastated. Apes, humanoids, and mutants were all still there.
All still alive.
Zaius and Krador exchanged glances. True to his word, the orangutan councilmember offered his hand. Krador accepted it.
The planet would be forever changed, but it would survive. A new beginning.
As the others dispersed, Alan and Virgil stood transfixed by the lightshow.
“Do you think he knew he did it?” Alan asked. “Do you think Caesar died knowing he stopped that thing?”
Virgil cleared his throat. “My good Alan,” he started. “Caesar may have known, and Caesar may still know,” the brilliant orangutan declared. Alan was addled.
Virgil explicated. “Who is to say that Caesar is dead? Even if our Caesar died in the atomic blast above, I believe that somewhere out there in time and space, another Caesar has survived.” Virgil was proud of his hypothesis. “Infinite possibilities, you know. Regardless, the legacy of the Unknown Ape will carry on.”
Looking again to the iridescent sky, Alan agreed.
“The king is dead,” he offered with a smile. “Long live the king.”
* * *
Jim Beard’s “Silenced” weaves a tale that is, in fact, many tales—a rich tapestry with a single thread of fate shining throughout it…
* * *
SILENCED
by
JIM BEARD
A cool breeze off the lapping water around them tickled her nose. Wrapped in her arms, she felt him stiffen as he looked up at the giant figure before them.
