by Rupert Segar
The main reception was staffed by a single, grey haired old man who appeared to be eating soup. As they approached, he put the spoon and bowl behind the desk. Garth noticed he still had mixed vegetables and broth dripping from his long moustache. After presenting their official pass and signing and countersigning a number of forms in triplicate, an equally decrepit white haired man appeared and escorted them down a corridor to a work station. The library alcove looked drab and grey.
“You can access everything you need from here,” he said, “except the forbidden files. The librarybot will help.”
Garth looked round expecting to find a hovering automaton but there was nothing in sight except a long bench and a table in front of a flat 3-D vid screen.
“It’s virtual, of course,” said the escort, tapping the table. The screen slowly turned itself on with a number of flashes and blackouts, but there, eventually, was an anodyne face looking out at them.
“How can I help with your enquiry?” it said.
“We need to record some files relating to the Technology Class Wars,” said the XO, putting a metal box down on the desk. “Where can we connect our crystal data storage?”
At either end of the long table multiple sockets popped up.
“The Technology Class War covered a period of three hundred years in the 8th Millennium, ending just less than two thousand years ago,” said the face that was neither male nor female.
“So quite recent then?” said Garth.
The figure turned to face the colonel. It seemed to ignore Garth’s attempt at humour.
“During the period of the Great Expansion, most of the funding for colony ships came from the big corporations. The passengers could never afford to pay for their passage. Instead, their relatives left behind on Earth were saddled with increasingly unsustainable debts. Towards the end of the drive outwards to the galaxy, 99 percent of the world’s wealth was owned by less than half of one percent of the population. Everyone else was either an indentured slave or living in abject poverty.”
“A recipe for war,” said Garth to his XO, who was connecting up the metal box to a number of sockets at the end of the table.
“In the early years of the 8th Millennium, a number of widespread revolts were put down with relative ease by the Cartel, a grouping of the fifteen biggest Terran corporations including Microsoft, Google, Alibaba and Taco Bell. Only the corporations were able to equip and recruit armies. Group 4, the armed wing of the Cartel, pursued the rebels by imprisoning anyone connected with the uprisings, including family members and work associates.”
“Tactics don’t change, eh?” said Garth to his First Officer. “That’s more or less what we do when we take over any planet. But we only do it for a few months.” Garth turned to the library bot that was waiting and listening. “How long did they pursue the rebels for?”
“What was called the ‘Group 4 Gambit’ lasted more than two hundred years. At the end of this period more than 85 percent of Earth’s population had been imprisoned …” the bot stopped and turned towards the XO. The 3-D face frowned and its mouth opened wide before it shouted “What are you trying to do? You are trying to bypass library security. I will have to ...”
The vid screen froze then blinked on and off several times. Garth looked round to make sure no-one was watching. Their section of the Great World Library was deserted. The screen blinked back on with the library bot facing them.
“How can I help with your enquiry?” it said, looking completely untroubled.
“More like it,” said Garth. “XO, tell it what we want.”
The first officer pulled out his pocket pad and scrolled across some data. He placed his pad on the metal box and the information was transferred directly to the library computer system.
“In the third century of the Technological Class Wars, a small group of university physicists found a way to cause nuclear explosions at a distance using a quantum lens. Access to further details is denied.”
The bot went blank. The First Officer tapped his pad, resting on top of the metal box.
“Access granted,” said the bot coming back to ‘life.’ “Downloading technological specifications of the quantum lens now.”
Garth was surprised; he had not believed they would find anything of any value in the decrepit cradle of humanity. Now, here was some ancient deadly weapon. Could he, Garth, use it against the Brood King and take control himself. Garth felt his chest tighten and his fingers begin to bunch but the seizure passed within seconds. I may not be able to disobey the spider’s orders but I’m getting stronger, he thought.
The vid screen flashed up an icon showing that the download was complete. For a couple of minutes, the XO reviewed the data. He swiped and enlarged a few sections.
“It all seems to be there,” said the XO, opening the side of the box and removing two crystal data stores.
“Good, let’s leave them this present,” said Garth, pointing at the metal box. “Tuck it behind the desk but leave it plugged in. Set it for an hour.”
+
59 minutes later, as Imperial Valliant lifted from the lunar space dock, one of the five Kargol cruisers in orbit around the Moon aimed an ion beam at the transparent dome protecting the Great World Library from the vacuum of space. A second cruiser used an ion beam to drill down below the concourse paving to destroy the field generators trying to protect the library. A few seconds later, inside the cathedral sized building, a logic bomb went off, wiping all of the giant archive, even back-up data stores were deleted. This was followed by a huge explosion, which demolished half the building.
Imperial Valliant and its five escort cruisers accelerated away from the Earth but not before firing a volley of anti-matter missiles at the Europa Space Station. The Viceroy’s defensive systems blocked most of the missiles but three got through. The station was completely destroyed.
“So much for old Earth,” said Garth.
Chapter 15: Departure from Devastation
On board the Ship, Yelena and Art sat side by side at the pilot’s consol. On the vid screen above the board, they could see one of the pods and Dylan standing with Becky and Lea in the cavern that contained the Pools of Light. In the background, there were nuns going frantically from pool to pool.
“It’s pandemonium here,” said Becky sounding like the reporter she was. “The Creators here at the Temple of Creation have been thrown into confusion after the disappearance of two of their leaders. Zeeann, the Oracle of the Temple and Asclepius, her father left without saying where they were going. As you can see, the nuns, here in the Cavern of the Pools of Light, have been going from pool to pool to trying to find them.”
“Becky, calm down,” interrupted Yelena, “and stop saying ‘here.’ You sound like the over dramatic reporter you use to be.”
“Do they have any idea where Zeeann has gone?” ask Art.
The spinning holosphere appeared beside Art.
“Art and Becky, I think I know where they’ve gone,” said the striped ball hovering at Art’s shoulder. “An hour ago, something untoward happened. Our shuttle, the one Dylan and the pod had hidden on the far side of the planet, took off and went through the portal.”
The vid screen picture for Becky and Dylan widened as Mr Angry hovered beside Yelena.
“I thought that was impossible,” said Art.
“Yes, our shuttles can only be piloted by pods,” said the bright red pod. “Yet this vessel was controlled by someone or something else. Then we received a command saying we could not prevent the vessel leaving.”
“The impulse to obey was irresistible,” said the striped holosphere. “I am sorry, Art. It was Zeeann and Asclepius, her father, aboard the shuttle. Only Asclepius has the knowledge of our systems and hence the ability to impose such commands.”
“How do you know Zeeann went with him?” said Art.
“Because she left a signed message,” said the spinning holosphere coming to an abrupt halt then turning the other way. “It said:
‘Look for our coming at your darkest hour.’”
The vid screen on the Ship widened to include a young alien woman wearing a hooded robe.
“I am Mother Prime, head of the Sisterhood of Entropy. We are distraught that we have been deserted by the Oracle and her father.”
“‘Deserted’ is a hard word,” said Art. “We don’t know why Zeeann left.”
“The place for the Oracle is as head of the Order of Creation. To leave us is to abrogate her responsibility. Nevertheless, we shall endeavour to fulfil our obligation by observing the Oracles instructions. We will help you, in whatever way we can, to face the approaching catastrophe.”
“I thought the catastrophe had been largely averted by this new cooperation between Creators and Humans,” said Dylan.
“It is true the omniocular is no longer black,” said Mother Prime. “However, the device still shows a galaxy wide convulsion. How many Humans and Creators survive is not known. The future is never certain: free will can change the course of history.”
“Zeeann’s determination to overcome her fear of Humans helped change history for the better,” said Art, omitting to say it was her liaison with him that caused the biggest transformation.
“The Oracle is endangering everything by leaving us without a guide.”
“You have your guide, stood right there beside you,” said Art. “Lea Whey is the greatest historian of all time. He was described by Asclepius as Master of the Omniocular. Lea revealed the real cause of the forthcoming catastrophe. If anyone can determine what we should do next or why Zeeann had to go, it will be Dr Lea Whey.
“I am certain Zeeann’s decision to leave is for the betterment of Humans and Creators alike,” said Lea. “If she says she will return to us when she in needed, then that is what she will do. Zeeann told me she had a special role in preventing the predicted cataclysm. When she last spoke to me, she did not know what that role was. Perhaps she now knows.”
“Perhaps she does,” said Art, wistfully. Yelena looked sideways at her lover. In a soft voice, he repeated the message left by Zeeann. “Look for our coming at your darkest hour.”
+
In the dark of their cabin, Yelena and Art made love in silence. Yelena groaned when she reached orgasm. Art came to a shuddering climax shortly thereafter but made no sound. They lay there quietly for ten minutes or so before Yelena broke the silence.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“About Zeeann?” Art replied.
“Yes, you bastard. What went on between you and her? They’re aliens for Einstein’s sake. How could have an affair with a freaking alien?”
In silence, Art got out of bed and put on his shorts and t-shirt and left for the kitchen. A few minutes later, Yelena emerged from the cabin wearing a dressing gown to find Art had laid out a supper for the two of them. She realised how hungry she felt. Probably the result of being on an intravenous drip for three weeks, she thought. Eat first, talk in a bit.
“I could say she seduced me,” said Art putting down the spoon he’d used to demolish a moussaka. The interplay between the ersatz aubergine and the ground artificial veal had been neatly offset by the béchamel sauce.
“That would not be true,” he said staring Yelena straight in the eyes. “Zeeann forced herself to overcome her fear of Humans. We went through some ritual in a huge bathtub called the Pool of Conjunction. Our minds were conjoined. She showed me how galactic history could change.”
“Then you made love with her.”
“Yes.”
“Is that why she left?”
“I think so. She forced me to choose. You won.”
Yelena had chosen to sit beside Art at the big round table in the control room. She could smell him, there was an odour of sex on him. She scooped up the last consoling spoonful of chocolate mousse. The pudding tasted of bitter cocoa solids but smelt of concentrated orange juice and zest. Yelena let it slide across her pallet and swallowed the final morsel.
“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she’s carrying my children.”
“Children?!” exclaimed Yelena.
“Three of them,” said Art softly. “Asclepius said their conception was what had changed the predictions. The children will save our future.”
“But how could they be our saviours?” said Yelena. “They say the catastrophe is only months away. How can these ... cross-breed alien foetuses change our fate?”
“I don’t know but I trust Zeeann and Asclepius. They both said how important it was for the fate of the entire galaxy. I believe them and wherever they’ve gone I believe in what they are doing.”
Yelena was silent for a moment scraping at the mouse container.
“Three children?”
Art nodded.
“You bastard,” said Yelena softly, pulling him towards her. “You’d better have some energy left to start working on our family.”
+++
The next morning, courtesy of the Sisterhood of Entropy and their mini portals, a number of Humans, a bright red pod and a scattering of Creators sat on the two sides of the long table in the Temple of Creation. The alien pastries and biscuits served as breakfast for all the organic beings. They combined a shared meal with a meeting to discuss their next moves. All sides, mechanical, alien and human, looked to Art for guidance and resolve.
“So it is decided, Lea and Becky will remain here to guide the Sisterhood as they monitor developments.”
“We willingly accept the leadership of the Master of the Omniocular,” said the Prime Mother with notable reluctance. “The Sisterhood can keep a close check on the enemy and we can keep in touch with the Ship as you travel across the galaxy. The Pools of Light can detect you when you are near any portal. We may be able to help as well.”
“Remember, the dark beast in the pools,” said Mr Angry. “You must use caution at all times.”
“We will,” said Lea putting his arm around Becky’s shoulders. “At the same time, Asclepius’ assistant and I will continue our researches using the omniocular to try to divine the nature of the great convulsion.”
Dylan, will you stay too?” asked Art. “We need your insights and skills.”
The cosmologist and thousand-year-old voyageur nodded, smiling.
“If I can help unravel this conundrum, I will willingly stay. Tearing round the galaxy is a young man’s job. But will Mr Angry stay as well.”
The bright red pod hovering next to Art appeared to look from one side to the other.
“Now, here is a thing, as you Humans say. We pods always tell you that we share our identity. That is not entirely true. I have a personal attachment to Art. I have saved his life and he saved mine in return. Dylan, much as I have enjoyed our inventive and productive friendship, I must go with Art.”
The grey pod on Dylan’s side of the table levitated a little higher.
“This may be little consolation,” said the light coloured pod, “perhaps I could stay with you. I have all the experience and knowledge Mr Angry has, though maybe not his personality.”
Dylan smiled while Becky put out her hand to touch the mechanical intelligence.
“Oh, pod,” she said “We’re going to have a fabulous time together but there’s one thing we have to sort out, right now,”
“What’s that?” said Art.
“A name, of course,” said the pod.
“OK, come up with some options,” said Art. “While you’re at it, why not find a name for the Ship too.”
A striped holosphere winked into existence just beside Arts right shoulder.
“The name Ship is quite efficacious, thank you,” said the slightly mechanical voice with a whirr and a click.
The humans in the company all laughed.
+
Only a few crumbs were left on the platter in front of Becky as the Ship’s new crew prepared to depart.
“Our first stop will be Dakota,” said Yelena. “The voyageurs and guardians there must begin the fight
back against the Empire.”
“Mr Angry has given us some new, how do you say, ‘tricks’ to use against the enemy,” said the grizzled haired Anton with a glint in his eye.
“I am looking forward to a portion of revenge. Arming the voyageurs will be the first step,” said Gill.
“War is the father of invention,” said Mr Angry. “We will beat our foes.”
“First Dakota, then we fly to Fair Isles to engage the Imperial Fleet.” said Art.
A grey vertical whirlpool opened in front of them and one by one the new crew stepped from the Temple of Creation onto the control deck of the Ship.
Chapter 16: The Isle of Hope
Twenty-one years before the outbreak of war, a small shuttle descended to a narrow plateau near the summit of the single mountain that made up the Isle of Hope. The island was the most easterly land mass on of Fair Isles. The watery world which had no continents possessed just one tiny chain of formerly volcanic islands.
At this time, Fair Isles was still trapped in the Millennium of Isolation, cut off from the rest of the galaxy. Nearly one thousand years before, the Great Plague had infected virtually every artificially intelligent computer and driven them mad. Without AIs, star ships could not fly faster-than-light. Planets were cut off from their interstellar neighbours. Without AIs many societies could not function and governments fell. Without AIs, traffic lights and fridges refused to work. On hundreds of thousands of worlds, people were forced to live at a more basic level.
No-one saw the tiny shuttle as it descended. No-one was looking. The satellites monitoring incoming and departing vessels had ceased functioning centuries before. The old spaceport on the main island of Crete was a deserted runway strew with weeds. The fact it existed at all after one thousand years of neglect was a testament to the durability of plastiform. However, all that was left of the control tower was the plastiform shell.
The shuttle landed on three stubby legs and the rear hatch folded down to make a ramp. Two extremely tall bipeds strode out of the vessel: one was a man; the other was a heavily pregnant woman. With wide eyes spaced wide apart, they gazed out over the sea looking towards the capital island of Crete.
