Genesis Force

by John Vornholt

  His uncle Padrin, as he had taken to calling the seeress consort, sat in a chair not far away. Armed with brush and palette, he was trying to paint an image of the inlet. He was doing a poor job, but he seemed to be enjoying himself.

  The handsome man saw Farlo looking at his work, and he chuckled. “I’m woefully out of practice, I’m afraid, but I used to win awards with my painting. You wouldn’t believe how hard I have worked to find somebody like you—it’s been night and day. So now I’m entitled to a little relaxation, don’t you think? Although I don’t know how relaxing this is going to be, with that Genesis monstrosity headed our way.”

  Farlo bit his lower lip, wondering if he could be blunt with his new uncle. “Sir, am I really supposed to be married to the Lady Jenoset?”

  “Absolutely,” answered Padrin. “She wouldn’t joke about a thing like that. She only has two husbands, me and the overseer, so you should feel quite honored.” He glanced at a chronometer on his chair and reported, “Only two more units until your nuptials. Oh, and it’s also time for the overseer to make his announcement. Maybe he’ll say this is all a bad dream, and we can wake up now.”

  The painter pressed a button on his chair, which turned his canvas into a viewscreen. After a few instants, the dour face of overseer Tejharet appeared, and it took Farlo a moment to realize that he would soon be in the same family as the ruler. Thinking about that, he hardly listened to the overseer’s grim account of the threat they faced. The boy’s life had already been turned upside down in the space of a few units, and another complete overturn was wasted on him.

  “Uncle Padrin,” he said, “if it’s my wedding, why can’t I have at least one friend there?”

  “Shhhh, boy!” hissed the consort. “Can’t you see that Curate Molafzon is speaking. Does he really think that people will volunteer to die from the goodness of their hearts? He’s crazy—this is going to be a mess.”

  “Please, Uncle,” begged Farlo, “can I have one friend at my wedding? Can I invite my friend Candra?”

  The man turned and scowled. “There isn’t time.”

  “Yes, there is. You could arrange it.” Farlo gave him what he thought was a winning smile. “You know they’ll listen to you. Please, it would mean a great deal to me.”

  “Would it, now?” Padrin turned back to his screen, where the curate and the overseer were gravely shaking hands. “In these crazy times, what difference could it make if your friend comes or not?” he remarked. “People are going to stop doing their jobs, anyway.”

  He turned off the broadcast, and his viewscreen reverted to a virtual canvas. Then he tapped the panel on his chair. “This is Consort Padrin. Give me the Esplanade Command Center.”

  The canvas turned into a view of an outdoor constabulary station in the festive esplanade, only it didn’t look so festive at the moment. People were gathered in solemn groups, discussing what they had just seen and heard on the overseer’s address. For most of the citizens, it was the first time they had truly realized that the planet was in the path of destruction, and a majority of them would die. On the beautiful lagoon where Padrin and Farlo were lounging, it didn’t seem possible that anything could spoil the idyllic calm; but in the cities, thought Farlo, fear would spread like gossip.

  He listened intently as Padrin issued orders to have Candra brought to the Institute of Devotion. His new uncle also took a moment to reassure everyone he spoke to that they were important to the kingdom. Although this didn’t actually promise them anything, Farlo got the feeling that the people thought their lives would be spared by their friend in the palace. From what he had heard, nobody had any control over the situation, except for the new regent, and Padrin didn’t trust her.

  But they couldn’t be marrying him off just to kill him, figured Farlo. He and his well-born new family would be saved from this Genesis Wave, and he wanted to make sure Candra was also safe. It was all he could think of doing while he waited.

  * * *

  In orbit around the shimmering green-blue planet, a shuttlecraft floated beside a massive transporter satellite, which dwarfed the ship in size. Two-thirds of the satellite’s wingspan consisted of its gleaming solar panels, which shifted in unison to catch the sun’s disappearing rays on the curved horizon far below. Three technicians in EVA suits hovered between the satellite and the shuttle, moving on tiny thrusters. Two of them were already headed back toward the shuttlecraft, and the third one was making some final adjustments at an access panel on the satellite.

  “Dyz, only eighty instants until we lose the sun,” crackled the voice in the helmet of the lead technician, who was making a final adjustment to the bioneural computer banks, simulating a memory-full condition. This satellite was offline for normal transporter use and would be out of solar range in another few instants, so nothing was at risk. Like all of his comrades, Dyz wanted desperately for this to work, but it had to be a true test. The lab experiments had gone well, but the field simulation had to be as real as possible. The failures had to come now and not when they escaped planetary orbit and the sun’s energy.

  On the control panel, he ran through the readings of temperature, circulatory pressure, electromagnetic waves, and cell reproduction rates for the biological components. Then he rechecked the raw power levels in the gel-plasm cells, which were brand-new and fully charged. All appeared normal.

  “Dyz, twenty instants,” crackled the voice in his ear. “Get back here.”

  “Yes,” said the chief, reluctantly shutting the access panel. He grabbed his handheld instruments, activated his thrusters, and slowly drifted away from the whirring solar panels, which were trying to grab the last glimmer of sunlight before shutting down. As soon as the solar power dipped below fail-safe levels, the new battery packs were supposed to activate. It would be the same if ship-based power failed during their evacuation. If all went well, the gel-plasm packs would never be used in actual conditions, but the engineer knew that things seldom went perfectly.

  As the last sliver of sunlight faded over the halo of Aluwna’s horizon, Chief Dyz was about halfway back to the shuttlecraft. He opened a handheld scanner and watched the satellite with both his instruments and his eyes, waiting to see its reaction. The blinking warning lights never went out, nor should they have, and the solar panels reoriented themselves to pick up the first rays of dawn in the morning, which was normal. The satellite’s regular batteries performed that function, but they weren’t designed to keep the memory and computer systems in active mode.

  He focused his attention on the electromagnetic readings, which, for all intents and purposes, were the brain waves of the bioneural network. That level was also normal—the satellite was alive!

  “All systems active!” said a joyous voice in his ears. “Dyz, did you hear me—we’re a go!”

  “I’m seeing it with my own eyes,” he responded happily. “Are we on a countdown to see how long the batteries last?”

  “Just started it,” said his teammate. “If we go until sunrise, the solar panels will kick back on.”

  “That should be a good test,” replied Dyz. “I’d be happy with that performance, as long as there’s no degradation.”

  “We’ll be watching for it,” his partner said. “Congratulations, Chief.”

  “Don’t celebrate yet,” cautioned Dyz. “Let’s wait a few more units. Pop the hatch for me.”

  “Airlock open. Prepare to terminate EVA,” said the voice in his helmet.

  With a glance at the silent but fully functional satellite, the chief technician activated the tether return and let himself be reeled toward his shuttlecraft. No one could say he hadn’t done all he could, trying to live up to the faith his old professor, Marla Karuw, had placed in him. He only hoped it would be enough.

  * * *

  On Sanoset Field, the price of shuttlecraft had just quadrupled, and then some. Not too many Aluwnans ever saw the necessity of buying a spacecraft—they thought they lived in paradise, and they knew they had a superior tra
nsporter system. So most of the vessels were owned by offworlders, governmental departments, and those few merchants who had reason to visit the other six planets in the Tejmol solar system. Rows of shuttlecraft normally stretched for measures and measures, baking in the hot desert sun, but they had been reduced to a few scattered vessels on the mostly empty field. Nervous owners had banded together to hire armed thugs to watch the vulnerable shuttlecraft, while the passengers and new owners scraped up the huge fees.

  Wielding their stun sticks, the guards milled around the blue transporter booths along the fences, looking for troublemakers among the idle crowd of onlookers. The number of people showing up at the shuttlecraft field, looking desperately for salvation and hope, was starting to grow.

  “But what is the point of all this?” wondered Hajhor Kanow, the pilot for a very special shuttlecraft with the crest of Rahjhu on the hull. They had their own contingent of constables guarding their ship and its crew of two, and Kanow looked at his copilot, a young woman named Ulorna. He waggled his multiple eyebrows and asked, “What’s the point of wealth when the whole planet is about to be destroyed? Why are all these people scrambling like this?”

  “To save their skins,” answered Ulorna. “We’re shuttlecraft pilots, we’ve got a way to escape. That reminds me, when is our drop-dead departure time?”

  Hajhor glanced back over his shoulder through the open passenger hatch of his eight-person craft, and he spied the chronometer on the bulkhead. “We’ve got to leave in thirty-seven and a half units to beat that damn wave . . . so tomorrow night.”

  “And we’re going to leave,” said Ulorna pointedly. “Why take chances when we don’t have to?”

  Hajhor frowned and kicked a pebble in the dust. “You’re young and unmarried,” he said forlornly. “You can go to other worlds and make a new life, but I’ve got family here. I’m the first husband. Will we be allowed to take our families? I doubt it. What will happen to everyone . . . everything that is left behind?”

  “Don’t worry too much,” said his partner. “A lot of people will make it anyway—in the buffers.”

  Hajhor looked doubtfully at the dazzling blue sky, as if he could see the satellites; then he gazed back at his sleek shuttlecraft. Their ship wasn’t the royal yacht, but they got around pretty well for a little runabout. “I’ll take my chances in the ketch,” he said.

  A voice suddenly boomed on their com channel—the restricted one—and both of them whirled around to hear, “Security alert, Sanoset Field, royal occupancy en route to shuttlecraft Nivamol. Arrival immediate.”

  The pilots jumped, and so did the constables. Within seconds, the guards had cleared away the onlookers, creating a corridor between the ship and the nearest transporter booth. Hajhor wondered who the royal personage would be, but he wasn’t overly surprised to see Seeress Jenoset step from the machine and stride regally toward them, a small entourage of assistants rushing behind her. She made the most use of the shuttlecraft, often going places where the transporter network didn’t even reach.

  Hajhor stuck his head into the hatch and called to Ulorna in the cockpit, “Look alive! It’s her!”

  He bowed as the ravishing ruler passed by, and she nodded curtly. Jenoset looked very irritable, but he supposed even high breeds fretted when the world was about to end. “Good morning, Seeress,” he said. “Are there to be more passengers?”

  “No,” she snapped as she stepped inside. “Just what you see. Set course for the Institute of Devotion.”

  “The transporters,” began Ulorna, but she withered under Jenoset’s glare.

  “Yes, I know they go there,” the ruler hissed, “but the transport system is under control of my enemy. Plus I have a feeling it’s going to be closed down to regular traffic very soon. Until further notice, you and this ship are my transportation.”

  “Yes, Seeress,” muttered Hajhor, wondering if he would ever have time to see his family again. Perhaps Ulorna was right, and they would have to make their own opportunity to escape from this cataclysm. After all, they did possess the means to save themselves.

  “Get under way immediately,” ordered the seeress, slipping into her special seat. “I wouldn’t want to be late to my own wedding.”

  Six

  Marla Karuw stood on the holodeck room of the Summer Palace, a place she had always wanted an excuse to use for some purpose or another. This was a perfect opportunity as the holographic projectors could send the images for all the ships’ captains into the blank beige room, where she could address them at once as if they were together. Most of the vessels in the small fleet of freighters and royal yachts were already in orbit, and the stragglers were coming along. Every moment was precious in her hectic schedule, and she couldn’t give them the face-to-face meetings they deserved. Well, she would just tell them that, the regent decided.

  She nodded to Komplum on the control panel of the holodeck, and he started the program. At once the room filled with the lifelike visages of nine starship captains. It was a rarefied job on Aluwna, befitting high breed and considerable offworld training on places like Earth and Vulcan, and the starship captains were like rulers of their own kingdoms. So they considered the regent with frowns of doubt and distrust, especially since they had been summoned at haste, then kept waiting for orders. Considering how important their cooperation was, Marla Karuw considered this her most important test yet.

  “Hello, Captains,” she said with a smile. “I don’t begrudge you looking askance at me, because I’ve kept you waiting. I’m sorry, but ever since I’ve taken command during this time of crisis, every second has been precious. I’m sure you can relate to that. I wanted to give you my full attention, and now you have it. I’m supposed to be your superior, but I don’t feel like your superior. I know that what you do, I couldn’t possibly do, so I’m not asking for obedience . . . but for cooperation. By now, you’ve read the reports—you know how bad it is. Our world and most of the people who live here are going to perish, but we have a chance to save eight million citizens, plus animals and plants and unique species.”

  Marla took a moment to encapsulate what they already should have known about the Genesis Wave, then she went on, “You, Aluwna’s fleet, must tow three hundred thousand satellites out of harm’s way. Then we can return, resurrect our populace, and reclaim our world from this diabolical event. We have less than two days, about forty-four units, to escape. Very few of our ships have warp drive, but impulse should be enough to get away in time, since we’re on the edge of the G Wave.”

  She paused to scan their faces, looking for dissent, but none came. “Your role in this rescue and evacuation is crucial,” she continued. “It can’t happen without you. You and your crews are pretty much guaranteed to survive, no matter what. The question is, do you want to survive alone? If you don’t help me, you might have a few members of the royal family along with you, but you would basically be all that’s left of Aluwna.”

  The stubbornness in their faces softened a bit, and they looked at one another as if they realized they were not in this alone. Calmly Marla Karuw went on, “There are two components to what you have to do. One is to supply energy to the satellites, to keep their computers and buffers at full, and the other is to tow as many as you can to safety. The slower ships will leave the earliest, of course, and some faster ships may be able to make two trips to our safety zone. We are constantly updating our plans as we get information from the Federation, but I feel we have enough information to proceed.”

  “And why can’t the Federation help us?” asked one of the captains.

  “They’ve got more ships than we do, it’s true,” admitted the regent. “I have asked them for help, and so has Overseer Tejharet before me. But we haven’t been given much hope. Their fleets are spread all along the path of the wave, and most of their ships are already full of refugees or simply couldn’t get here in time. Even if they could, it would take thousands of ships to save as many souls as your few ships can, if we store them in th
e pattern buffers.”

  “Incredible,” said another captain, shaking his head. “Our entire civilization comes down to our handful of ships and this insane idea?”

  “Yes,” answered the regent. “Bluntly, that is it. The replicators have been ramped up to make the parts, and I know we have the technology to tether our satellites and keep them powered. The question is whether we have the will. You’ve received the latest guidelines from my staff, and we’ve already started to close down segments of the transporter network to use for testing. I hate to simply dismiss you, but I’ve got to keep moving—and you know what you have to do. In truth, I don’t care how you do this, but do it. The fate of Aluwna is riding on you.”

  “Our families!” shouted one captain. “Will they be saved?” The others leaned forward and looked expectantly at her, as if this were the only question that mattered.

  Karuw pursed her lips, trying not to show any emotion, even though this issue nagged her every waking instant. She looked at Komplum and nodded. “Yes, your families and those of your crews will be on the exempt list. They will be among the first stored in the transporter buffers. Send their names to my assistant, Komplum. Good day, my comrades, and the speed of the Divine Hand be with you.”

  She motioned to her assistant to end the holodeck conference, and the images of the stiff-necked captains gradually faded away. Marla Karuw let out a sigh and allowed her shoulders to slump. “That had better be all the hand-holding they need,” she muttered, “because they’ve got to be aggressive.”

  Komplum cleared his throat. “You know, Your Regency, that list is becoming very long, and you’ve got messages from millions more, begging to be on it. We’re going to need help, like a whole department devoted just to keeping the list.”