by Colin Kapp
“That isn’t right!” She made a movement of objection. “Before the Big Bang there was another universe. That’s two, just for a start.”
“I’ll take your words for it. But don’t tell me we’ve jumped through to the universe before the Big Bang.”
“Not that one, but to another similar.”
“What gives you that crazy notion?”
“Marshal Jym, I can read the patterns. In the region we’ve entered now, entropy is decreasing with time.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Why is it? The direction of entropy is only a symptom of an expanding universe. This one’s contracting. Ours began with the Big Bang. This one’s going to finish with it.”
“You have me at a disadvantage. I don’t have the information to know whether what you are saying is true.”
“Then let’s go to the flight-bridge. Perhaps the stars will tell their own story.”
Frowning with faint doubts about Roamer’s ability to contain any more of the recent stresses, Wildheit followed. As they reached the flight-bridge, however, the speculation was replaced by doubts about his own ability to adjust to what he saw. Spanning the flight-bridge, a flattened, transparent dome gave an unimpeded view of a whole hemisphere of space. What he had casually mistaken for a high level of artificial illumination on the bridge proved to be nothing but starlight—but such starlight as he had never before imagined.
His mind swam, and he was seized with an instant of vertigo as he began to comprehend the realities of the great stellar host arrayed so magnificently in space. Within the range of his unaided eye, thousands of millions of stars were packed so inconceivably close that they formed a wall of illumination through which it was difficult to see the dark recesses of space beyond. Although he knew with reasonable certainty that many light-years separated each star from its neighbors, it was hard to believe that many were not in imminent danger of catastrophic collision. This was obviously part of a great galactic system, but it was a galaxy so drawn in upon itself that the density of its starry population must have been many millions of times greater than that of any comparable array which Wildheit had ever known in his own universe.
Not so visibly impressive but more staggering in its implication was the probability that many thousands of millions of similar galaxies, each with a like complement of stars, would be pressing in from a contracting universe, all headed for the same ultimate and finite death. Here all the matter from an entire universe was returning to the one great and final singularity which was the progenitor of what? The Big Bang—or complete annihilation?
He started as Kasdeya moved behind them unheard and adjusted the polarizing fields in the dome to dim the starlight to a more tolerable but still impressive level.
“Marshal Wildheit—I promised you a proposal. My colleagues are unanimously behind me in what I have to say.”
Kasdeya crossed to a control console, heaved himself up to sit on it, then turned to face them. The oblique incidence of the reduced starlight threw a thousand lines in his face into minute relief, and for a moment Wildheit could have believed the man was fully as old as Roamer claimed him to be. Standing in this faintly alien ship under impossible starlight, in the company of two such unlikely people as Kasdeya and Roamer, Wildheit was suddenly struck both by the drama and the unreality of the situation. It was an instant out of time, in which anything was possible. Kasdeya’s following words were fully in keeping with the mood.
“I scarcely know where to start, because there’s so many things you’ve not been in a position to know. I think Roamer, with her unique perceptions, has already guessed at half the truth. You, Marshal, will find this the most fantastic story ever told. Suffice it to say that were it not true, we should none of us be at this place at this time, exchanging these words.”
“Does your story have some bearing on the Chaos Weapon?” asked Wildheit.
“It does indeed, as you will see. But let us start at a point with which you’re already familiar. As the chicken said, somebody is exploring back down a set of coincident axes from some future effect to its past cause. The two of you are standing at the other end of that same causal chain.”
“I understand the words, Kasdeya. But not the reason why.”
“The reason is best understood by acknowledging that there are two universes—your own, and the one in which we now find ourselves.”
“On that point I must accept the evidence of my own eyes. There’s no concentration of stars like this in the universe I know.”
“Good! That saves a lot of argument. But one of the things you had no chance of knowing is that the inhabitants of this universe, whom, for simplicity I shall call the Ra, were long aware of the dual nature of the continuum. And since their universe is doomed, they looked to yours for continued existence. In fact, it’s they who control the Chaos Weapon, which is part of their armory of conquest. It’s the Ra who are worried by the threat the two of you comprise.”
“A threat I still don’t understand.”
“You reckon without Saraya at ChaosCenter. His part in all this will be apparent later, but for now let’s say he’s one of the Ra, yet mortally opposed to them. For many years he’s been researching into Chaos looking for a causal trigger which will stop the Ra’s plans or perhaps destroy them entirely. From the Ra’s violent attempts to stop you, I’d guess Saraya finally found the right formula—a Chaos reader and a space-marshal, backed by five of the most desperate renegades in space.”
“Backed by?”
“Certainly, Marshal. I think we’re all included in Saraya’s calculation. Your enemy is our old enemy. We have the advantage of knowledge and of mobility between the two universes; you, of a certain way with Chaos. The proposition is that we join forces.”
“Not unless I get a hell of a lot more answers. Who are you, Kasdeya?”
Kasdeya sighed. “I said this was going to be the most fantastic story ever told. Well, here it is. The trans-continuum jump, which you’ve just experienced, has always been difficult, dangerous, and painful. Until very recently the ships capable of making this transition, of which this is one, took years to build and were limited to a physical size which could accommodate ten men at most. Thus until a couple of years ago, a mass migration from the old universe to your new one was scarcely practical.
“Realizing this, the early trans-continuum pioneers invaded the new universe with the spirit of colonists. Unfortunately, there is a minimum size for a self-sustaining colony of any species, and all these pioneer ventures failed. Then, in ranging through the new universe, one of the ships chanced upon a world containing an animal so like man that they hit upon a unique solution to the colonization problem. By genetic manipulation and cross-fertilization, they metaphorically grafted man on to a self-sustaining colony of the animals. This colony survived.”
“You’re not answering my question.”
“It’s relevant first to establish who you are, Marshal. You see, the name of the world is Terra, the name of the animal was Neanderthal—and the hybrid became Cro-Magnon, the progenitor of Homo sapiens.”
TEN
WILDHEIT fought with the idea until his brain stopped racing.
“Are you saying Homo sapiens didn’t evolve on Terra?”
“No farther than Neanderthal, which was an evolutionary dead end, like so many of its variants. None of the Terran primates had any quality which particularly fitted them for dominance. No, Marshal, it was our intervention which first gave them intelligence and then a culture. This was the impetus which took them out of the trees and caves and into space.”
“You’re also one of the Ra?”
“We five, and Saraya, and a few others also. Outcasts all of us. We’re remnants of some of the later teams who nursed the infant hybrid culture. Cro-Magnon had a penchant for mating with his more brutish cousins, and the bloodline was contaminated many times. The colony only survived by repeated interference and selective culling over a period of many centuries. But finally most of
the battle was won, and the unique genetic identity of Homo sapiens was established. This was the triumph for which we were crucified.”
“Crucified?”
“Metaphorically. The realities were much harsher. The mandate of the earlier trans-continuum teams had been to ensure the future of man against the coming holocaust of our contracting universe. This they did by seeding the new universe. But, as I’ve explained, the job took far too long. In the passing of such great time, there was a subtle shift of emphasis among the Ra. Suddenly it was not the survival of man they wanted, but their own survival.”
“A human enough reaction.”
“Leading to an irrational sequel. As the old universe grew smaller, whole galaxies started coalescing under the increasing stresses. Populated worlds were being obliterated by the tens of thousands. Time was running out. But what had the trans-continuum teams achieved? Mass transport across the continuum junction remained impossible, but the teams had effectively give the whole new universe not to the Ra, but to a whole new breed of man.
“The situation generated what has become known as the Great Anger. The trans-continuum teams were literally destroyed by an upsurge of bitterness and violence of proportions you’d not believe. Only a few teams managed to escape. We were one of these, and in order to survive we had to flee back across the continuum junction into the new universe.”
“When did all this take place?”
“About three thousand years before the start of your current scale of time. We five were working on the establishment of the Sumerian City-states when the Great Anger exploded in our faces.”
“But that was seven thousand years ago,” Wildheit objected. “Do you possess immortality?”
“No more than you. But consider this—the trans-continuum jump involves a direct penetration of the light barrier, not the circumnavigation of your subspace hops. For this reason, all trans-continuum vessels have light-speed capability. We were hunted and pursued, but we could always escape. Being misplaced and desperate, we were prepared to make the one sacrifice our persecutors would not.”
“Which was?”
“The time-dilation effect. At ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine percent of the speed of light, our subjective experience of time was less than six months for every century of real time passed. In the seventy centuries which have elapsed, we’ve aged only about thirty of your years. Our persecutors, having families and friends in their own time, could afford to make no such sacrifice.”
“But they’re all a long time dead. Surely the Ra don’t still hunt you?”
“So powerful was the Great Anger that even their descendants were taught to hate and remember us. We would drop out of dilated time every century or so, hoping they had forgotten us. But each time they’ve found us again, and we’ve been forced to flee into the future. That’s why we offer to join forces with you, Marshal. After seven thousand years of running, we’ve become immortally tired.”
“And Saraya was also a member of a surviving team?”
“Saraya, Dabria, Selemia, Ethan and Asiel. They were different. They were dedicated men. Despite being chased into time dilation by the Great Anger, they continued over the centuries to nurse their infant culture toward maturity. I suppose it was an act that gave purpose to their shattered lives. One by one they’ve mostly settled over the centuries and spent the remainder of their lives at a normal rate. I think now only Dabria and Saraya remain.”
“What made you think Saraya didn’t know what was going on?”
“Because we still make trips back into the old universe, while he does not. Great changes have taken place of which he may not be aware.”
“What sort of changes?”
“Firstly, the Ra’s increased proficiency with Chaos technique. It’s now so good they can predict our movements centuries ahead. Whenever we emerge from time-dilation we soon find their fleets waiting for us. But that’s not the worst of it.”
“Tell me the worst.”
“Something else Saraya may not know. The Ra have cracked the problem of making the trans-continuum crossing in mass. At last it’s become practical for the Ra to leave their own universe and migrate into yours. But what do they find waiting? An armed space federation already occupying most of the habitable planets in one galaxy and poised to spread to others—in short, a strong usurper occupying the universe which aeons of tradition promised to the Ra.”
“So the Great Anger is rekindled. Is that why they started using the Chaos Weapon against the Federation?”
“Yes. It’s a policy of dislocate and weaken. With the length of their supply lines, they could never sustain a major spacewar against the Federation forces. But with the Chaos Weapon they can undercut the foundations on which the Federation is built. When the structure begins to fall apart, that’s when they’ll attack.”
“One thing puzzles me.” said Wildheit. “In the new universe, man is only established in one galaxy—a minute fraction of the total. Isn’t there also room for the Ra?”
“Marshal, the technical problems of traveling between the galaxies have already been solved. Federation colony ships are already crossing the void. Have you any idea of the prodigious rate at which mankind can multiply given unlimited space and unlimited opportunity? Occupy one world today, and you’ll need a thousand worlds within a century, and a million within two. Want to bet the universe will be large enough for both you and the Ra five hundred years from now?”
“I take your point. But how can Saraya hope to stop them coming?”
“Suppose you were designing the tactics for a battle, and had access to histories written in the future. You could set the design and see what the results might be, without having to fire a shot. If you find you would have been beaten, you go back and rethink your tactics. Then you test for history again.”
“And future history can be read from the patterns of Chaos?”
“In the broadest sense, yes. You can read the entropic peaks and determine their location. It doesn’t tell you who has won, but you do know whether the great explosions will take place on your doorstep or on the hearths of your opponents. History has many quirks—points where timing, coincidence, and certain individuals have a completely disproportionate affect on the results. These are the event catalysts. If you can locate and manipulate the right combination of catalysts, you can control the reaction any way you wish.”
“And that’s what Saraya’s doing?”
“It is. And the Ra know it. They put their faith in the Chaos Weapon and sheer numerical superiority. Saraya, with no such advantages to protect his infant culture, has explored catalysis instead.”
Wildheit found the polarizing control, returned the fantastic starry field above the dome to its former brilliance, and stood looking at the mind-staggering array. Roamer, too, was looking upward and outward. In contrast to the turmoil and despair which inhabited the marshal when faced with the impossibly daunting prospect of doing battle with all these stars, Roamer’s fact was calm. Her viewpoint was seemingly backed by some dreadful assurance that odds of a thousand-million-million-to-one presented no particular problem. It was at this point that Wildheit chanced to wonder why Dabria had found it reasonable to spend the rest of his natural life attempting to contain the Sensitive seers.
A sudden reduction in the level of starlight caused all three of them to look up suddenly, as a group of great ships materialized in close proximity to their own craft. Immediately a whole succession of alarms sounded on the flight-bridge and throughout the length of the vessel. Kasdeya swore and scrambled to his control panels, but even before he was halfway there another four of the great vessels came between them and their view of the over-plentiful stars.
“What’s happening?” asked Wildheit.
“The Ra! Destroyers this time. You won’t find it possible to shoot these out of space like plaster ducks. We’ve neither ray nor projectile which can penetrate those shields.”
In response to the alarm, Jequn and Asbeel ran in
to the room and took up stations at the instruments. Jequn called over wryly.
“I think, Marshal, this time they come to shoot the horse.”
Kasdeya was slamming his hands over the controls, and the strong music of the strange engines climbed toward the far ultrasonic. As the note ran higher, a slight thrill possessed them. At a critical frequency the starlight faded from the scene, but not before several great, soundless explosions in space had shaken them severely. Several minutes later the starlight reappeared, but from different stars and shaped by different constellations. The huge battleships leaped into position seconds later, and a new round of soundless explosions followed almost simultaneously.
Kasdeya’s hands on the instrument panel flung the ship into another starless jaunt, from which they emerged to find the destroyers already in position and the great explosions so close that it was a miracle they survived. Instantly they were back in their starless mode of transit, but Kasdeya’s face was grave.
“If it wasn’t for their progressive accuracy, this could become monotonous,” said Wildheit.
Kasdeya grimaced. “Exactly! You see what I mean about their proficiency with Chaos. They’re now predicting our arrival within seconds and our position within meters. At best we can hope to emerge twice more before they have us at dead center. The only way we can throw them is to go in for time-dilation.”
“No!” This cry from Roamer was the first word she had uttered for some time. “Don’t you see that’s what they want us to do?”
“What?” Kasdeya looked up sharply.
“Of course! It’s the only way they can win—by driving Saraya’s catalysts so far into the future that they can make their invasion before we become active again.”
“Is that worse than destroying the catalysts altogether?” Kasdeya’s hands hesitated above his controls. “Do you have any better ideas?”
“Have you nothing aboard this ship that can destroy those battleships out there?”
“We’ve plenty of space mines that could do the job. But they have to be sown. They’re not like projectiles which can be fired at a target. And the Ra certainly aren’t going to hang around waiting while we seed the sector with mines.”
