He wasn’t sure of the depth of the material they granted him access to, since he was still considered a primitive by the super-intelligent beings. But it was enough to give a trained Fleet office like himself, with specialties in engineering and stellar navigation, a general idea of what the Ancients understood about the Universe.
“That would be true if the temporal disturbance only involved one life, or one track through the timescape. But when thousands of lives are at stake, or millions, billions or more, the paradoxical stresses can grow to mammoth proportions. Like what happened to us.”
“You went back in time and tried to change things for the better?” asked Jackson, who had heard the rumors from the other species of the region concerning the Ancients.
“And they would have been better, if not for the paradoxical stresses that rippled through space time,” said the Ancient. “Enough energy was released to basically destroy our Empire.”
“The people of Elysium say that the Universe struck back at you, since it doesn’t like a paradox.”
“And so you primitives are wont to believe,” said the Ancient, wheeling around on his locomotive cilia. “And why would the central stars of our Empire still survive in orbit around that black hole? There is nothing mystical about what happened, since the Universe is not a conscious entity. It was all a matter of physics, though at a level that your primitive minds cannot comprehend.”
“So, explain to me what did happen. In a way my primitive mind can comprehend.”
The Ancient stared at him for a few moments, and the human could almost hear the gears turning in that massive brain as the creature tried to decide how much it could tell the man. It must have decided it could trust him not to tell more of his kind, which sent a chill down Jackson’s spine as it confirmed his suspicions. He would probably never regain his freedom.
“We first started observing the past, as an exercise in curiosity.” The creatures eyes all looked at different areas of the room in an unfocused manner, as if it were looking back over its memories. “Nothing extreme. A couple of your years. Still, we noted the ripples in space time even when we avoided making any kind of changes. The process itself had repercussions, minor, not enough to stop us. So we continued.”
“But you went further?”
“Of course, for we thought we were wise and benevolent enough that we knew what we were about, and only good would come of it. Some cautionary voices were raised, and all experiments were thereafter conducted on the worlds that did not comprise the center of our Empire, those in orbit around the black hole that your kind calls the Supersystem. We started making larger changes in the past, trying to alleviate the suffering of others. We destroyed entire timelines and created others. Millions of intelligences that had died in the past lived to reproduce, millions of new lives were created, but, unfortunately, millions more who lived faded from existence as if they never were.”
And that’s what whoever is trying to make time travel a reality is planning for our timeline, thought Jackson. It was all conjecture, but he was sure he was correct, and from what Klorasof was telling him, it was going to lead to disaster. Not millions, but possibly trillions of beings would cease to exist, and he had to wonder as to the ethics of choosing who would live and who would die in those numbers.
“The ripples in space time increased to the point where seismic events on inhabited worlds caused great damage and death. A star that should have been a million years from supernova exploded before its time, the compression waves of paradoxical energy pushing the matter past the point of collapse. The administrators of our Empire started to panic, and the scientists thought it best to try and undo some of the changes they had made to the timelines of others. This exacerbated the problem, and dozens of stars, these main sequence that would never have exploded on their own, went into supernovae, wiping out whole species and many of our own worlds.”
“But you survived, obviously. So why did your civilization fall?”
“We felt responsible for all the damage we had done. Our birth rate plummeted, and beings who should have lived for further millennia withered away and died. In two millennia most of our race was gone, only the few who were the strongest on the bell curve of our species surviving. One of the last things we did was to raise up the other species of this region to the point where they could become spacefaring races. To protect themselves from other species that might not be so benevolent. Then we became as we are now.”
The creature focused all of its eyes on the human, all of them with a pleading look. “We cannot allow this to happen again. If we cannot locate the source of your experiments, we will have no choice but to destroy the source of your wormhole generating ability, lest they be used for time travel.”
“If you destroy the Donut, we will lose our war against the Ca’cadasans,” said Jackson in a pleading tone. “And then we will be destroyed as a species.”
“And normally that is something we could not allow, since your species is one that shows great promise. But we also cannot allow a tampering with the time stream. We will not allow it to happen. As I have told you before, we only have the ships and energy for one battle, and if that battle is to fight our way to your wormhole generating station so that we can destroy it, then that will be our last fight.”
“Is there anything I can say to change the minds of your leaders?” asked Jackson, almost on the edge of panic now. He really didn’t know how his Empire was doing against the Cacas, but he did know that they weren’t doing well at the time he had been rescued. The wormholes were the only ace in the hole that the Empire had, and if the generating station, that had taken over a century to construct, was destroyed, he didn’t know how the human race would survive.
“If you could give them a better target than the wormhole generating station,” said the Ancient before turning away. “Other than that,” Klorasof continued as he rolled away, “I can think of nothing.”
* * *
“They will find me,” said the Countess Esmeralda Zhee, struggling against the bonds that held her to a chair. “And when they find me, they’ll find you.”
Angel Sergio Martinez laughed to himself as he smelled the fear on the woman he had kidnapped from her own estate, right under the noses of her own security. You’re used to be in control, aren’t you, Countess? Well, this is a situation you can’t control. How does it feel to be the one caught up in things beyond you?
“Do you understand me?” yelled the Countess in a panic. “My people will find you, and they will kill you.”
“Or you’ll just hire someone to take me out,” said Angel, who was an expert on being paid to do others in. “Don’t you know that’s against the law, Countess? You can go to jail for that.”
“Who in the hell are you?” asked the woman in a voice quieted by fear. “Why in the hell are you doing this?”
“I wonder if the people you put out contracts on asked the same questions. And were they given answers before they were killed? Or were they met with silence?”
“Who are you?”
“If I told you, I would have to kill you,” said Angel with a laugh. “But what the hell, I’m going to do that anyway. Let’s just say that when the Angel of Death comes calling, wealth or social rank does not matter. Even Emperors bow down before that dark Angel.”
“Oh my God,” exclaimed the Countess. “You’re the Angel.”
Martinez could almost see the gears turning in the woman’s mind as she digested that information. “I don’t know who’s paying you for this, but I’ll double it. Triple it.”
“Triple nothing is nothing, Countess. I’m doing this one for free. This is personal.”
“Why?”
“I take it personally when someone orders a hit on me. It’s inconvenient having to kill a bunch of second raters. It interrupts my plans for the day.”
“If you had honored your contract, it wouldn’t have been necessary to put out a hit on you,” yelled Zhee, anger getting the better of her f
ear.
“I made a choice after I had gathered new information. I had to decide who the human species would have the best chance under. Your masters, or him. I chose him.”
“I have no masters,” said Zhee, anger again getting the better of her.
“Tell me another one. Don’t worry, I will get the truth out of you.”
The woman’s eyes widened, this time fear getting the better of anger, the normal response of a threatened animal. “If I give you what you want, will you let me live?”
“No. You are too much of a threat to live.”
“Then you will get nothing out of me.”
Angel laughed for a moment, looking into the disbelieving face of the Countess. “Believe me, Countess. Before we are done, you will sell your soul to make it stop.
* * *
SPACE OUTSIDE OF NATION OF NEW EARTH, AUGUST 16TH, 1002.
“We are picking up ships of unknown resonances entering scanner range,” reported the Sensor Officer, looking back at the commander of the mission.
At least we have real warships, thought Rear Admiral Natasha Sung, the woman who had led the initial exploratory mission to this region. Her three massive ships in that mission had been built for long range exploration, and were not as heavily armed or armored as a purpose built warship, lacking the acceleration of most military vessels as well. Now she was sitting on the flag bridge of the brand new sixteen million ton battleship Count Gregor Samnovich, with a pair of battle cruisers and ten lesser vessels as escorts. It might not be enough to fight off any opponent, but it could fight and run better than what she had commanded prior.
“Those are Slarna ships,” said the Klavarta pilot who sat at the second sensor station.
Who we came to see, thought Sung, wondering how much they knew about humans. According to Klavarta intelligence, the only contact most species had with humans in this sector were with the genetically engineered subspecies they had created to be their warrior faces. As Sung knew, that guaranteed nothing, as an alien species with a good intelligence gathering apparatus could learn much that you didn’t want them to.
“We have six contacts now,” reported the Sensor Officer. “All in the three to four million ton range.”
“We outmass them by a factor of over one point seven,” called out the Squadron Tactical Officer, a smile of relief on his face.
“We’re not here to fight, Mr. Tucker,” cautioned the Admiral, who had been chosen for this mission because of her skill as a diplomat.
“I know we aren’t, ma’am. But that doesn’t mean the other guys don’t want to start one.
“I want a tight leash on all weapons in the squadron,” she ordered the officer who would command the integration of those systems in a fight. “Beam weapons powered down, missile tubes unloaded.”
“What about defensive measures?” asked the Squadron Tactical Officer, a look of dismay on his face.
“Electromag fields at full strength, but no cold plasma in the fields,” ordered the Admiral, holding up a finger. “I want them to be able to see our hull, and not assume we’re making ready an attack.”
She turned to her Navigation Officer. “Lt. Mosh. Plot a course toward those ships.” The young officer gave an acknowledgement and took a few seconds to plot the desired course, sending it to the ship’s Helm Officer.
“Orders, ma’am?”
“Max safe decel down to hyper translation speed, then down to normal space and a complete stop.” She turned to the Sensor Officer. “I want us grav pulsing the sensors once we are no longer boosting. I want those people to know where we are and that we’re not taking any untoward movement into their space.
“Make sure base knows what’s going on,” she said to the Klassekian Com Tech.
While she was glad to have the strange looking alien on the flag bridge, since it did give her contact with base, she missed having a wormhole onboard. The wormhole gave so many other advantages beside simple instantaneous com. The problem was, they had so few of them on this front. All of the remaining wormholes were needed for strategic considerations, like moving ships and personnel from the Empire to the Nation and back. Since they couldn’t transport wormholes through wormholes, they had to wait for the first convoy coming from the Empire to bring them more. Ninety wormholes were coming, forty with connections back to the Empire, and fifty in containers that held both ends, so they could be deployed on this front where needed most. That still wasn’t that many, but better than nothing, and future convoys would bring more. But she never saw the day when ships carried wormholes in the same numbers as they did on the Imperial Front. Which was why having the Klassekians, with their quantum brain connections to their siblings, was a very welcome addition to this front as well. Only there also weren’t enough of them to go around at the moment, which was why only a few of her ships had one.
“We can come to a complete stop in normal space in nine hours, fourteen minutes,” called out the Helm Officer over the com from the command bridge.
“Make sure that everyone gets rest and meal breaks before that happens,” ordered Sung, getting up from her seat. “I will be in my cabin, getting some sleep before I need to communicate with these Slarna. If you really need me, get me up. Otherwise, I’m not to be disturbed.”
Sung lay in the bed of the flag officer quarters she occupied aboard the battleship. The quarters were very comfortable, including a sitting room, office and steward’s chamber. Slightly more luxurious than those she had occupied on her long range explorer, which, though a larger ship, had needed to cram much more within its hull. She didn’t feel any guilt in getting eight hours sleep, since hers was the mind that would have to make the decisions during her meeting with the aliens, and that brain needed to be fresh.
Time passed quickly in the timelessness of sleep, and she awoke fresh and ready. A quick meal served by her steward, a couple of cups of good coffee, and she was dressed and ready for whatever would greet her.
“The alien ships just came out of hyper,” said the Sensor Officer when Sung walked onto the bridge. “They should reach our position on a zero motion intercept in three hours.”
“What was their translation velocity?” she asked the officer.
“Just a bit under point two light. It would seem that they are less advanced that we are.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” she cautioned the officer. “They may be holding something back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The tension level on the bridge ratcheted up as the Slarna ships got closer. This was basically a first contact situation for the Imperials, if not the Klavarta. The alien ships drew closer, still decelerating, five of them at a higher rate than the leader. They pulled to a relative stop over a light minute away, just about the maximum effective range of the Imperial beam weapons, which made the Commodore surmised that the alien’s beam range was much shorter. The leader continued in, and the bridge crew studied the ship on video as it approached. The tight beam coms were filled with chatter as officers aboard all the ships reported their findings and offered their opinions.
The most important one coming across was that, based on the size of what had to be the hyperdrive projectors, the Slarna ships were at most capable of reaching hyper VI. Sung breathed a sigh of relief. All of her vessels were hyper VII capable, meaning she could jump away from any confrontation if necessary.
The Slarna ship was of a standard design, longer than wide, the most practical arrangement for going through an opening between the dimension. It possessed neither domes or rings, but instead had turrets for its beam weapon, not the most practical design, as turrets were weaknesses by dint of being outside of the hull.
“We’re receiving a com hail,” called out the human com officer on the bridge, Lt. Commander Timothy Bonaventure.
“Modality?”
“Two dimensional.”
“Then put it on the main forward viewer. And make sure our return doesn’t show our Klavarta guests,” she finished, looking ov
er at the pair of pilots on the bridge off to the side.
The creature that appeared on the main viewer was not the strangest she had ever seen, but it was up there. Instead of a seat it lay on its belly on a bench. The view was at a slight angle, so Sung could see the three legs on one side, all appearing much alike, triple joints, three equidistant claws on each hand. The face was triangular as well, with three eyes, two across from each other, one centered above. The mouth was covered by a set of mandibles. The creature was wearing an outfit of shimmering cloth, unknown symbols on the shoulders.
The creature started to speak, and normally it would have taken several thousand words before the translation program had enough to work on. Fortunately, they had the entire linguistic database of the Klavarta, who had contacted these and many other creatures before. Most of that contact had been combat, but there had been enough conversation between them to have built up a working vocabulary.
“What do you at the borders of our space, strangers?” came the translation over the bridge speakers, accompanied by a high pitch screeching from the vocal apparatus of the creature.
“We are here to make peaceful contact with your people,” said Sung. “We would be your friends.”
“We have never seen aliens of your like. Quadrupeds, or bipeds?”
“Bipeds, though most of the life on our world is quadrupedal.”
And the aliens were obviously sextopedal, one of the most common forms in the Galaxy as far as humanity could determine. It seemed that almost sixty percent of worlds that had advanced life on them had four limbed creatures occupying the niche of dominant life form. About thirty-five percent had six limbs, with the remaining having various other body forms.
“And where are your people? And why do you come from the direction of the Monsters?”
Monsters meaning Klavarta, thought Sung with a grimace. This was the most difficult part of the mission. If she lied, the creatures might never again believe her then the truth came out. But to tell the truth was to open up the possibility of offensive action by the Slarna.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 10: Search & Destroy Page 8
