All The Frail Futures: A Science Fiction Box Set

by J Battle

  Every once in a while, one of them would turn towards the river and raise its front section from the ground and seem to stretch closer to the water, and a sharp barking sound drifted towards him. It would hold the pose for a second, then drop and return to its incessant wriggling.

  Unsure of what he should do next, Lus spent the day near the river, watching the show. He left the bank as night fell and went in search of food.

  After a successful night’s hunting, he was back at his post by dawn.

  At first, there was no sign of the wrigglers, which was something of a relief. Then he heard the groan, and a single creature appeared at the top of the hill. Expecting a repeat of the previous day’s performance, Lus settled down in the long grass near the riverbank to relax.

  When the creature didn’t stop, but kept right on to the edge of the low riverbank, he raised his head; suddenly alert. As it slipped silently into the water and began to swim towards him, an irrational fear washed over him. Then three more of the creatures slid down the hill and into the river. Behind them were dozens more; suddenly it no longer seemed such an irrational fear.

  Something had stopped the creatures from approaching the water the day before. Whatever that was, it was no longer working.

  Lus took a moment to watch the horde of yellow wrigglers swarming down the opposite riverbank. He could almost feel their hunger washing over him.

  The first creature was wriggling its way up the near river bank already; barking and groaning as it moved, the front of its head a gaping maw, ringed with triangular teeth.

  Lus slunk away silently, hidden by the long grass. When he judged that he’d reached a safe distance, he began to run; southward, to Hellion, he was heading. He had to tell someone about the monstrous danger that was wriggling its way towards them. If only he could outpace them.

  He ran for his life.

  ****************

  The End

  ***************

  AND ALL THINGS BETWEEN

  After 10,000 years, can his sins be forgiven?

  The folly of youth

  The bitterness of age

  And all things between

  But fuel my rage

  (early 21st century – anonymous)

  Prologue

  The Hardlampons laid siege to Earth, their great armada filling Earth’s skies with fear, as hundreds of thousands of alien crafts poured their venom down on Earth; energy and ballistic weapons all arrayed against the lonely planet’s weary defences.

  But those defences were holding out; for now. They somehow managed to absorb the tremendous energy raining down on them and deflect the missiles and cluster bombs that threatened to destroy them.

  The atmosphere was heating up at an alarming rate, however. After less than three months, average temperatures were up by fifteen degrees and rising all the time. The ice caps had gone and sea levels were at record highs; hundreds of thousands had drowned already, tens of millions were displaced. Whatever the result of the siege, Earth was already devastated.

  And the result was surely not in doubt. The Hardlampons seemed to have a vast, almost inexhaustible arsenal, which they could replenish at will.

  But Earth was a closed system. What they had already was all they were going to have. There was no help to come from Mars, The Moon, or the habitats that filled near Earth space; they had already succumbed to the destructive power of the Hardlampons.

  Earth’s capacity to defend itself was being depleted by the hour. In a matter of days, its defences would be breached, and the end days would begin.

  The small ship that entered real space three hundred million kilometres from Earth was not detected by any of the combatants. As it raced towards Earth, all of its sensors on maximum power, the onslaught continued. But, even before it had closed to thirty million kilometres, each of the alien ships was mapped and targeted.

  With less than ten million kilometres to travel, the craft suddenly leapt forward, accelerating at more than 40 Gs as it slipped into stealth mode.

  The instant it reached the ten thousand kilometres point, more than six hundred thousand anti-matter pellets were released, each one with its own target. The pellets flashed towards the engines of the alien ships, and not one missed its target, with catastrophic results.

  All of the smaller ships disintegrated immediately, converted in an instant into immeasurably small fragments. The larger warships were still recognisable as ships, though ripped open and gutted by the blasts.

  Only two ships of the great armada that had travelled so far retained some sort of offensive capability, and they were both able to back track the assault to the place where the little ship had been. Though they had no way of detecting the actual ship, they could work out its original position and attempt to predict its current course.

  One of the ships guessed wrong and fired its last salvo harmlessly into empty space.

  The other one got lucky. Its pulse weapons caught the little ship as it tried to change course. Its shield was no match for the level of firepower the battleship could bring to bear on it. Within a couple of seconds the shield failed and the little ship was ripped open from end to end.

  Chapter 1

  The craft emerged into real space at sub luminal speed; its dull black surface almost invisible in the faint light from the distant sun.

  In stealth mode, there was nothing to betray its existence; no heat signature, no radiation, no radio signals. It was just a small area of nothingness, three hundred million kilometres from its destination, Earth.

  Inside the ship, the temperature was almost as low as it was outside. The environment contained little in the way of air or light; in fact there was nothing to support life.

  But there was life.

  He stood unmoving in the tiny, oval control room; in complete darkness.

  He didn’t need light to see, just as he didn’t need air or heat or any of the comforts normally considered requirements for the maintenance of life. Still, he was alive; at least there was still some organic material left to him. Parts of his brain, some nerve cells; not actually what he had started out with, but still of some value to him. He was proud to still consider himself human; so few others would consider him such.

  His metaform body was dull black, just as his ship’s hull, and was fairly hominid in appearance. Properly clothed he could have passed cursory inspection as a standard unmodified human; at least from a distance.

  Using the ship’s sensory equipment he could see the approaching system, the familiar planets. It had been such a long time, but now here he was, returning home. Returning to a place he had left behind him nearly ten thousand years ago.

  He was days away still, but he was in no great hurry.

  His reception was unlikely to be warm. And, for himself, he could forgive that, but there were other considerations, and of course there were the bodies in his storage bay. For them, he would brook no dissent, no delay.

  For now, he was content to let the ship drift towards Earth, spending the days carefully planning his new future, his mind at normal speed.

  He prided himself that he still retained his humanity, and one of the reasons he did so was because he avoided machine speed mental capabilities unless it was absolutely necessary.

  He would use the time to sort through his memories and confirm the choice that was the only one really open to him.

  He was more than ten thousand years old, and although most of his memories were still available to him, even his brain could not accommodate all of them in his organic neural pathways. So the bulk of the data was filed in his digital partner-brain, in the AI that did virtually everything for him. His memories were barely a shadow to him until he actively retrieved them from his archives.

  If he met someone he knew, he wouldn’t necessarily recognize them until he called the memory up. In normal mode, this might take several seconds; in machine mode the retrieval would be effectively instantaneous.

  In an attempt to maintain his humanity,
he had programmed his brain to send up random memories to his conscious mind; memories in 3D, surround sound and full colour. Even memories from the time when he was still fully human were recreated as if they had been recorded at the time by his machine super-brain.

  As well as spending the time reviewing appropriate memories, he would of course spend some time with Julie and Ben, his dead wife and son.

  It was a concern to him, the overpowering desire to spend all of his time in the VR world he had created for them. To watch the sun go down over a beach, with his wife beside him and his son digging an unnecessarily deep hole in the sand; that was his desire. And he could fulfill that desire whenever he wanted to.

  But that was the problem. He wanted to all of the time.

  So here he was, approaching the rejuvenated Earth, with the re-grown bodies of his loved ones and the hope that he would be allowed to land; to become human again and live the last few years of his life with his wife and son.

  Was it possible that his crimes and atrocities, both real and disavowed, would be forgiven? After all these years, would anyone still remember him?

  In just a few days, those questions would be answered.

  Chapter 2

  The shaft was hundreds of metres deep, self-supporting with its lining of noncrete, penetrating deep into the heart of the desolate mountain. Its entrance was carefully hidden so no-one would find it by luck or intention.

  And if some being happened upon it, and had the wit to open the door, what would they find? A narrow tube that seemed to go down forever, with no hand holds or other aids to descent.

  And if they found the courage to make the attempt, there were traps lying in wait that would prevent them from reaching their destination.

  Sealed within the small chamber at the base of the shaft was a being that had never been given a proper name. For the sake of convenience, and for reasons which may become clearer later, we will call him Number Two.

  Number Two had occupied his restricted dwelling for thousands of years, nursing his purpose, content that he was safe; that nothing could harm him and his precious treasure in this hidden place.

  And he was very nearly correct.

  The area was geologically sound and had been for as long as records existed; for many millennia.

  When the quake came, it was something of a shock to everyone. The creatures, sentient and otherwise, living near the base of the mountain ran for their lives. Some of them even made it.

  When the mountain peak immediately above the entrance to the shaft collapsed upon itself, even noncrete was no protection.

  The shaft twisted and cracked. It split open in some places, in others it was filled with dust and rocks. The debris compacted by its own weight, the shaft became no more than a feature of the devastated mountain.

  In the chamber that now resembled a tomb, Number Two took stock.

  There had been no real warning of the scale of the catastrophe that was about to happen; just a few unthreatening tremors kilometres away along the mountain range.

  The chamber had not been breached, so Number Two was unharmed. But he was trapped in the centre of the mountain. There was of course the option to remain here as if nothing significant had changed and patiently carry on his mission.

  But there could be another quake, one which could smash through the chamber’s noncrete ceiling and crush his body to dust. And destroy the tiny portion of life he carried.

  The decision was made in a small fraction of a second.

  Number Two made no attempt to escape through the shaft. There was a much simpler way out. He knew his exact location; at the west wall of the chamber, and there were only a dozen or so metres of solid rock between the chamber and the cold clear air of the mountain side.

  Number Two chose the powerful handheld plasma cannon from his array of useful tools and weapons.

  Within the space of only a couple of minutes, there was snow dusting his dull black skin.

  Chapter 3

  There were several temptations to which he was prone.

  There was the VR world, always no more than an instant from him. There was a dark, unfocused anger that he would have struggled to explain, but still it called to him. Of course, there was the longing for a peaceful, contented resolution.

  There was also the storage bay.

  He found himself there again, without any conscious decision.

  The bay was slightly warmer than the rest of the ship, but still dark, airless and unwelcoming. He was standing between two narrow cylinders, his hands resting gently on their opaque surfaces.

  There were two further chambers on the other side of the bay. One was of a similar size to the closer chambers, but the other was much larger, rectangular and tall, seeming to crouch in the corner, holding its secrets within its menacing grip.

  He leant to his left and brushed frost from the viewing plate. With his enhanced vision the face was clear, and perfect. Ben was ten years old when he died, and here he was, ready to live again. If only he got the chance.

  To his right, there was Julie, her dark blonde hair unruly as ever, her dimpled chin calling for his gentle touch. He longed to see her open her eyes and amaze him with her smile.

  As ever, he was prepared to do anything to achieve that wish.

  In the distant past, he had sacrificed everything for them and counted that justified. If others suffered, then that too was barely worth consideration. And he had endured the millennia without them, on his long lonely journey.

  But that was all behind him now.

  In just a few days, he would return home. He would have his wife and son back again. Together they would live out the rest of their lives, on an Earth that had, despite everything it had been subjected to, found its own new lease of life.

  And if Earth’s authorities should refuse his entry, if they should deny him what he required, what he needed, what he had an absolute right to have, then they would suffer the consequences of their actions.

  He sighed and turned away from the stasis-chambers.

  That was not the way he wanted this to go. He’d had enough violence and death. He hoped that they would not make that fatal mistake. That they would allow him to spend his final days back home, and end his tale of wandering and death.

  **********

  Number Two surveyed his surroundings.

  He was perched on a narrow ledge, at the edge of the tunnel he had blasted through the side of the mountain. All around him the hot rock still glowed.

  Cold icy peaks towered above him, capped with snow, brilliant white in the bright sunlight. On his level, there was just rock, in a million shades of grey; hard, crumbly, sharp. He registered the sub-zero wind that scoured his body.

  Far below, flat green land was visible, with small settlements and stands of trees dotted about.

  There was no nearby path, only a precipitous, almost vertical slope leading to the gentler foothills a thousand metres below. Number Two was equipped with a number of gravity control features, so he stepped off the ledge and floated slowly down the face of the great slab of granite.

  In moments he was striding through the foothills, towards the nearest village. During the descent he had reconsidered his options, but the decision was obvious.

  Hiding away in a hole was not the best way to fulfill his purpose, not in a world where everything was subject to change. Being passive was just inviting failure, and he had come so close to failing.

  No, a more active policy was required.

  So he strode towards the village, to give instructions and make preparations. The village was too small, of course, with no real manufacturing facilities, but it was a start.

  The 216 villagers would not resist Number Two’s persuasive capabilities; they would obey his instructions willingly, joyfully.

  From there he would move on to the nearest large town; a place with factories and a suitable workforce. That would be enough for the start of his project, though not nearly enough for its completion.
>
  Every factory on this planet would eventually be required, every ounce of raw material; every minute of every day. And every single life.

  Chapter 4

  Number Four was safe and warm, hidden carefully in a place where none would think to look for him. All around him was the living, breathing body of his host, planted on this little island thousands of years earlier.

  For him, no deep dark, cold caves, or tunnels dug into the heart of an ancient mountain. No desperate attempt to fling him to safety inside a converted asteroid. No hiding beneath the surface of a dead, airless satellite, precipitously close to his home world.

  He was on a known planet, with people living and breathing all around him. If he listened, he could hear their chatter as they went about their perfectly normal lives, on a planet so far away from their origins.

  So he remained, protecting his precious burden. He was barely conscious, but he was still aware that one day he might be called upon. When that day came, he would be ready.

  The rising heat didn’t disturb him, it barely registered on his drowsing senses. The boiling magma, just a few metres below, had not quite found its release.

  **********

  He was named John (Jack) Russell and was that rarest of all things, an English astronaut.

  It was 2019 and the years of intensive training were nearly over; he would soon be allowed into space in support of the latest US/European space programme.

  Ben was so excited, he counted the days down on his tablet; desperate to see his father climb into that great white tower and leap into space.