Four Tomorrows: A Space Opera Box Set

by James Palmer

  Hamilton had never heard their cosmology put like this before, but based on what he knew of the Draconi it made perfect sense. Man’s first encounter with the Draconi was at a fringe colony. The colonists were slaughtered, many of them eaten.

  “You say ‘they’ believe. You no longer believe this?”

  “No,” she said, her tongue darting from her mouth. “My studies have concluded that this just cannot be. But that only made me an outsider. But there were other scientists before me who questioned the existence of the Egg Mother. That isn’t the reason I was cast out of my clan.”

  “Then what was it?” said Hamilton gently. He could tell this was difficult for her.

  “As I studied the Progenitors, I started to wonder what had happened to them. They left behind the Archives and the Q-gates, but nothing else of them lasts. We found a few archaeological sites on a couple of fringe worlds that might be linked to their civilization, but where did they go? How did a race of beings so powerful, and spread all across the galaxy, just vanish?”

  “My people have wondered that as well,” said Hamilton.

  “I believe that they were wiped out en masse by something,” she said.

  Hamilton pursed his lips in thought. “A pulsar, a gamma ray burst, a supernova. Any one of those things could have done them in. But they were pretty spread out. An interplanetary civilization couldn’t get destroyed that easily. It’s part of the reason why we left Earth.”

  “No. But that’s what I think happened. All at once, just…” she clicked her talons together.

  “My people didn’t like that theory either. It made them uncomfortable, upset their place in the cosmos.”

  “I’m sure they have trouble wrapping their heads around the concept of the Progenitors,” said Hamilton. “A race of beings more powerful than both our species put together, when you’re supposed to be the superior race.”

  “Yes. And the fact that they were no longer on top sent them into a frenzy. Knowing of the Progenitors was bad enough, but when we encountered your kind, it really upset many of us. I believe that is part of the reason we attacked you so fervently. And for that, I am sorry.”

  “My kind can be pretty irrational too,” said Hamilton.

  “We’re here,” said Dr. Solomon as they exited the maze of corridors into a large central room. The floor was composed of some silvery material, with desks rising up from it at regular intervals, as if extruded from it. People sat at many of them, their eyes glued to virtual terminals upon which flickered incomprehensible sigils and glyphs representing the Progenitor language.

  Dr. Solomon guided them to one of the desks. “You may access the Archive from this workstation,” she said. My docents will help you. She glanced nervously at the two marines.

  “This is a peaceful facility not attached to the military. If this is some excuse to commandeer our research—”

  “I assure you, Dr.,” said Hamilton, “this is nothing of the sort. Once we have what we need, we’ll be on our way.”

  Dr. Solomon looked them over suspiciously one last time before disappearing among the many desks. A couple of researchers looked up from their studies but quickly got back to work. The rest ignored them, so involved in whatever they were working on.

  Drizda sat before the terminal while the female docent showed her how to access and use the computer.

  “How long do you think this will take?” asked Hamilton.

  “I don’t know,” answered Drizda. “I will hurry as fast as I can.”

  Hamilton turned to the Marines. To Lt. Ellison he said, “How fast can you get us under way once we’re ready to go?”

  “I can start the pre-flight sequence from here,” she said, tapping a small metal plate embedded in her right temple.

  “Good. We need to be able to make our next move fast.”

  Drizda caught on quickly, and her two four-fingered hands moved deftly over the terminal’s keyboard, even though it had been retrofitted for human beings. Hamilton watched as data on the Progenitor culture flew past on the floating holographic displays.

  “These are the files pertaining to a particular section of the Epics,” she said. “I believe what I’m after is contained within it.”

  “Good. “Let’s get it and go.”

  The male docent showed Drizda how to connect her slate to the terminal in order to download the information. Hamilton’s cochlear implant chimed. It was Captain Kuttner.

  “Hurry it up. We’ve got company.”

  “Almost done,” he said. “Should I be worried?”

  “With our luck,” said Kuttner, “yes.”

  The captain cut the connection.

  Hamilton turned to Ellison. “Fire up the shuttle. As soon as this downloads we’re out of here.”

  “Commander Hamilton,” said a familiar voice. He turned to see Dr. Solomon marching toward him. “A word?”

  “We’re almost done here, Doctor,” he said. “I thank you for your cooperation.”

  “Stuff it, Commander,” she said. “I’d like to know why there is another Fleet ship heading this way, and why they’re telling me not to let your people aboard the Archive.”

  “It’s complicated,” said Hamilton. He looked down at Drizda, but her slate was still downloading the Progenitor information packet. Complex alien glyphs flickered across the device’s screen.

  “If you’re in some kind of trouble that endangers the Archive and our work here, Commander, I need to know about it.”

  “No you don’t,” said Hamilton. “We’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes. The Archive is in no danger.”

  The huge structure shuddered, lights in its upper reaches flickering.

  “You were saying, Commander?” said Dr. Solomon.

  13 Battle of the Archive

  “Sir,” said Lt. Brackett. “The Carl Sagan has just emerged from the Q-gate. They’re hailing us.”

  “What now?” said Captain Kuttner as he shifted uneasily in his command chair. “Open the channel.”

  The view screen shimmered, and the gigantic close-up of the Archive was replaced by the visage of a stern-looking young woman in command gray. “This is Captain Dejah Carter of the frigate Carl Sagan. You are in direct violation of Solar Navy code. I have been mandated by the Fleet to order your immediate surrender.”

  Kuttner arched an eyebrow. “For what? Missing my retirement party? Captain, don’t you think this is a bit excessive?”

  “My opinions on the matter are not at issue,” she said. “I have my orders.”

  “I see,” said Kuttner. “And who gave that order? On whose authority?”

  “You are hereby ordered to surrender immediately and be remanded into my custody,” she said, ignoring his question.

  Kuttner felt his face flush hot with anger. This girl was young enough to be his granddaughter, and she was supposed to surrender himself just like that?

  “Cut the feed!” he commanded, and the view screen went dark.

  “There’s something else going on here,” he said.

  “They’re moving in at a high rate of speed,” said Hudson. “Estimated intercept in six minutes.”

  Kuttner touched a button on his command chair, opening an audio channel to everyone on board.

  “Listen up, everyone,” he said. Everyone on the command deck turned toward him.

  “This is going to get ugly. “You all have promising careers ahead of you. If you wanted to mutiny right now I wouldn’t hold it against you. But something sinister is afoot here. Something out there is eating colonies and spaceships, and it’s almost as if the Admiralty wants to blame it on the dragons so we can go back to war with them. I think that’s wrong. I think it flies in the face of everything we hold dear. I think it disgraces the memories of everyone who fought and died so that we could have this peace. And I have no intention of obeying Captain Kindergartner’s order. If anyone disagrees, here’s where you get off. Kuttner out.”

  The command deck was eerily silent. Kuttner star
ed into the faces of his crew, glad to find only loyalty there.

  “We’re with you, Captain,” said Gunner Cade. “All the way.”

  “All decks reporting their solidarity, sir,” said Brackett. All shuttles still present and accounted for, all escape pods still in their niches.”

  Kuttner nodded. “Lt. Hudson, evasive maneuvers. All hands, battle stations.”

  Hudson deftly turned the massive ship around as Cade warmed up the guns.

  “Do not fire unless fired upon,” Kuttner commanded. “And only to wound, not destroy.”

  Cade nodded. “Aye, sir. I’m looking for soft targets now.”

  A wireframe schematic of the Sagan floated in the air in front of Cade’s workstation that he moved and twisted around. Kuttner didn’t want to destroy another Navy vessel, but if he could cripple them it would allow them to get away and go back to tracking down those deadly machines that were at the heart of this whole mess.

  “Sir,” said Cade. “They’re firing on us.”

  “Taking evasive action,” said Hudson through gritted teeth.

  “Deflector field on full,” said Kuttner.

  The depleted uranium shell missed the Onslaught by little more than ten thousand kilometers, a hair’s breadth in spaceflight terms. It struck the Archive instead, a small blossom of flame appearing briefly for a flickering instant.

  “No visible damage to the Archive,” said Cade.

  Kuttner exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Get Hamilton and his party back here on the double.”

  “The docking port is opening,” said Hudson. “Our shuttle is coming out.”

  “It’s Hamilton,” said Brackett, head cocked as if listening to something. “He says he has what we need.”

  “Hudson,” said Kuttner. “Keep us between the Sagan and Hamilton’s shuttle, and plot a course for the Q-gate. As soon as the craft is aboard I want us away from here.”

  “Aye,” said Hudson, his long fingers flying over the controls.

  “Sir,” said Cade, an edge of unease in his voice. “Detecting hundreds of hostiles streaking this way. Small, metallic, equipped with cold fusion drives.

  “It’s them!” said Kuttner. “Commander, I suggest you get your ass back here on the double. We’ve got even worse company.”

  “They’re three minutes away,” said Hudson.

  Kuttner nodded. “Cade, do not fire on the Sagan. Brackett, get me their captain.”

  “On screen,” said Brackett.

  “Captain, uh, Carter,” he said. “Are you detecting a swarm of small metallic objects heading our way?”

  Carter looked off screen for a second. “Yes. So?”

  “So, those are machines capable of eating almost anything and using that mass to create new copies of themselves. They are what is destroying our colonies, not the Draconi.”

  Captain Carter’s tough, all-business facade began to crack, her eyes suddenly unsure, fearful.

  “Together we might have a chance of defeating them,” said Kuttner. If we—”

  The view screen suddenly went dark.

  “What happened?”

  “Sir,” said Hudson. “The swarm just made contact with the Sagan. Detecting hull breaches on all seven of its decks. They even chewed right through the defense field capacitors.”

  “Receiving a priority message from the Archive,” said Brackett. “It’s Dr. Solomon.”

  “On speaker,” said Kuttner.

  “Hank,” she said in a fear-tinged voice. “What is going on out there? We here hit by something. And what are those things out there?”

  “Helena,” he said as calmly as he could muster. “I don’t have time to explain. You need to evacuate the Archive immediately. Everyone there is in great danger.”

  “What are you talking about? Evacuate? Do you know where I am right now? This structure has withstood eons in space.”

  “None of that matters now,” said Kuttner. “Just listen to me.”

  “Sir,” said Hudson. “I’m detecting stress fractures in the Archive’s outer hull. Its mass is decreasing.”

  “On screen,” said Kuttner.

  “Commander Hamilton’s shuttle has docked,” said Brackett.

  “Good,” said Kuttner. “Tell him to get his ass up here now.”

  The screen flickered to life once again, this time showing the Archive. It appeared a bit smaller from being further away behind them, but it looked normal. Then he saw them. Millions of them, crawling over the pyramid’s huge surface like a hoard of dull gray insects.

  “Helena,” he said again. “Get everyone out of there. Get them on every ship you have and—”

  They watched in horror as the Archive was taken apart right before their eyes, the hull disappearing under the swarm’s attack. The Sagan wasn’t faring any better.

  Hamilton stepped onto the command deck panting, followed closely by Drizda. “Why is the Sagan here?” he asked.

  “To demand our surrender and take me into custody,” said Kuttner. “Get eyes on her.”

  The view screen split into two fields, one showing the slowly collapsing Archive, the other displaying the dying frigate is it listed sideways, its hull crumpling inward as it lost integrity.

  Cade fired the ion guns, no doubt lashing out against a stray swarm machine that had wandered too close for comfort.

  “Mr. Hudson,” he said. “Get us the hell out of here.”

  “With pleasure,” sir.”

  They felt the thrum of the engines as they powered up to full, and the terrible images they were seeing quickly shrank behind them.

  “Destination, sir?” Hudson asked, his hands on the thruster controls.

  “Anywhere but here,” Kuttner replied.

  14 End of the Line

  The Onslaught emerged from the Q-gate seconds after entering it, but there was no sign of the carnage they had left. The effect was disconcerting, jarring, even for the ship’s computer, which always took a few seconds to catch up and figure out their new position.

  “Hudson,” Kuttner snapped. “Where in the hell are we?”

  “End of the Line,” said the navigator.

  “Pulsar navigation confirmed,” said Brackett. “We have arrived in Sector 3363. End of the Line.”

  Kuttner nodded approvingly. “Good work, Lieutenant.”

  End of the Line was what the League of Worlds and its military arm the Solar Navy called the most remote system in human-inhabited space. It was so named because it contained the last Q-gate node. This was as far as the Progenitors got in their exploration and colonization of the galaxy. There was nowhere else for a ship to travel through the quantum network of gates but back down the line. From this remote star system, it would take three thousand years at top speed to reach Earth without using the Q-gates.

  Kuttner always imagined some impossibly strange Progenitor vessel setting up a Q-gate, and then moving on at sub-light speed some unimaginable distance away to set up the gate’s quantum-entangled twin, going on and on like that for centuries until they had a grand network of such portals spanning light years. He often wondered if that lone vessel ever gone back through the Q-gate it had just installed to return to its people. Did the crew of that vessel even feel any connection, or bare any resemblance, to the people they left behind?

  Kuttner stared at it through the ready room window until he heard movement behind him. He turned and found Hamilton and Drizda taking seats on the opposite end of the table. He gritted his teeth and sat down.

  “If only there was something else we could do,” he said. He thought of Helena Solomon in the Archive, besieged by those things. Watching the ancient structure being slowly eaten out from around her. The process would take several hours, even though the actions of the machines had been swift, and the Archive was already starting to fall apart when the Onslaught left the system.

  “They would have gotten us too,” said Hamilton. “We need to warn the rest of the Fleet.”

  “Fleet
be damned,” Kuttner muttered. “It’s like they don’t even care. They already sent another of their own to their doom. The captain…she was just a kid.”

  “I know, sir,” said Hamilton. “She died serving the Fleet. Many of us could do a lot worse.”

  Kuttner pounded his right fist upon the table. “Well, it’s over and done with now. What have you got for me?” He looked directly at Drizda.

  “I believe these machines are molecular dissemblers,” said the alien. “They can break down any material at the molecular level, and then use those individual molecules to build whatever material or structure they need.”

  “Like von Neumann probes,” said Hamilton.

  Kuttner and Drizda stared at him.

  “On pre-Singularity Earth,” Hamilton explained, “there was this scientist named John von Neumann. He postulated that we could explore space by building probes that could make copies of themselves from the alien environments they encountered.”

  “But these aren’t exploratory craft,” said Kuttner. “They’re on a seek and destroy mission.”

  “I do not believe they are being intentionally malevolent,” said Drizda. “It is more likely they are just following their ancient programming. Maybe that programming got corrupted somehow. Perhaps the race that built and launched them died out, and they just kept going, only without guidance from their creators.”

  “Or maybe this was their programming all along,” said Hamilton. “They could be like soldiers fighting a war that has been over for eons.”

  “Either way,” said Kuttner, “there has to be a way to stop them.”

  “Yes,” said Hamilton. “But how can you bomb something that can eat the bombs?” He turned to Drizda. “Any idea how fast these things can replicate?”

  Drizda flicked her tongue into the air. “I assume as fast as they need to. They can break down raw materials at a molecular level and turn it into anything they need, probably within the space of several minutes. With each individual unit capable of reproduction at that speed, we’re talking exponential growth.”