Future Shock, page 17
The audience cheered. Ethan placed the paper in the centre of the table and waited. There was no need to make a speech, thankfully, or do anything other than attend one final dinner before returning to the shuttle and heading back into space. He trusted his officers, really he did, but he wouldn’t feel happy until he was back on his ship. The sooner they set up a proper colony with a modern industrial base, the better. Rachel would live and breathe again, and so would the rest of the human race.
His lips twisted as the ceremony came to an end. The locals had been sure the future folk were tricking them somehow, when they’d asked for a seemingly worthless colony world. They hadn’t been shy about saying it out loud, demanding to see history records before anything was signed and transferred. They’d even insisted on a share of everything mined in the system ... Ethan had agreed, of course, because there was nothing there, certainly nothing that couldn’t be found elsewhere. If the locals wanted a share, they could have it.
“And now this is over,” he subvocalised to Rachel, “we can go home.”
His heart sank, his earlier thoughts returning to mock him. Their home was gone. They were trapped hundreds of years in the past, unable to return to homes that no longer existed ... they would never see their homes again. They’d have to make the best they could of 2308, because there would be no third chance. And he would.
He had no choice.
***
Hamish knew he’d been lucky to be invited to the ceremony, an invitation that would never have been extended to such a junior officer if he hadn’t been instrumental in discovering the future starships and bringing them to Earth. It was an honour he would have foregone, in all honesty, in favour of returning to his ship and preparing to resume the war. Half the representatives looked down on him, when they bothered to look at him at all, and the other half – the ones smart enough to realise why he was there – seemed torn between trying to butter him up and getting annoyed at him for discovering the future starships. The sheer illogic gnawed at his mind – Boswell would have had no difficulty reaching Earth, even if Hamish’s squadron had missed the future starships completely and raced onwards to their rendezvous with destiny – but it was human nature to look for someone to blame. Their world had been tilted on its axis and certainties everyone had thought ... well, certain ... were no longer quite so absolute. It was like a training exercise where the unhappy recruits were left to discover they’d been given the wrong maps, only with very real stakes.
A lieutenant with a map is bad enough, even when he has the right map, he thought, with a flicker of gallows humour. How much worse is a politician with the wrong map?
He kept his face under tight control as the first part of the signing ceremony came to an end. There would be a banquet shortly and then rounds of endless speechifying ... he felt a stab of sympathy for Boswell, who was clearly unhappy to be anywhere other than deep space ... he wondered, tiredly, when he could sneak out of the chamber and go back to his room. His supervisors had been tight-lipped about just what would happen to him now the treaty was signed and the whole affair was public knowledge ... he took a glass of something expensive, something he’d never be able to afford on a captain’s salary, from a servant and took a sip. It was hard to believe people paid so much money for the fancy wine when they could have something almost as good for a tenth of the price.
“Captain Anderson?”
Hamish looked up, silently kicking himself for being caught unawares. The speaker was a young woman with long white-blonde hair, a face that was just a little too long to be truly pretty and eyes that made her look a great deal older than she was. He’d seen the same look on young officers who’d thought they could handle anything, only to come face to face with the grim reality the real universe was nothing like the training simulations. The tutors did what they could to prepare the cadets, but ...
He blinked as he recognised her. Cassidy Waters. They’d shown him her picture when they’d been trying to discover the source of the leak, asking him if he’d ever met her before. Hamish hadn’t. He’d visited New York a couple of times over the last decade, but he didn’t recall ever seeing her ... and realistically, passing through a city didn’t mean you met every last person who happened to live there. Honestly. He couldn’t help wondering if his interrogators already knew who’d leaked and were trying to cover it up, for whatever reason of their own. It shouldn’t have taken long to determine he hadn’t leaked.
“Miss Waters,” he managed, finally. It was hard not to feel a twinge of annoyance, although he knew she’d have been arrested and interrogated without the kid gloves they’d used on him. A reporter who betrayed military secrets could expect to spend the rest of her life in a work camp ... he was mildly surprised she’d been released, let alone allowed into the UN Compound. She must have friends in high places. “What can I do for you?”
Cassidy motioned for him to step aside. It struck him that, in a way, she was as alone in the crowd as himself. The other reporters had excluded her, either out of jealousy or a fear that whatever trouble was waiting for her would touch them, too, if they allowed themselves to get too close to her. Hamish didn’t blame them, even though he thought it was shitty behaviour. The risk of losing everything was just too high.
“I was wondering if you’d be interested in doing a background interview with me,” Cassidy said, quietly. “I have a lot of questions about” – she nodded to the table, where Boswell was shaking hands with a stream of UN officials – “and I thought you might be able to answer.”
Hamish considered it, briefly. It was normally risky to speak to the media without a military PR officer at your back. But now ...
He cocked his head. “How did you get into this compound?”
Cassidy rubbed her wrists. “How did I get released, you mean?” There was a hint of bitterness in her tone. “Apparently, someone requested I be released and given press credentials to attend this ... event. I am famous and a pariah and ...”
She shrugged, expressively. “I was led to believe it was Captain Boswell or one of his people who issued the request,” she added. “Feel free to check, if you like. I’d be curious to know myself.”
Hamish nodded, slowly. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to Boswell privately since their arrival at the compound, but he thought it was the sort of thing Boswell would do. The future folk wouldn’t support arresting and locking up a reporter, not for disclosing a secret they thought shouldn’t be a secret. He wondered, idly, if their principles would survive long as they came to grips with the realities of 2308. Wasn’t that how America had lost its way? His ancestors had given up so much, over the years, that they no longer comprehended how much they’d surrendered. And it had all seemed quite reasonable at the time.
“I will,” he said, glancing around. No one was paying any attention to them, as far as he could tell, but there would be cameras. He allowed himself to entertain a fantasy of ducking out of the banquet, trying to convince himself no one would notice his absence, before dismissing the thought in a flicker of irritation. It was wishful thinking. Someone would notice and then he’d be in trouble. “We can talk after the banquet, if you like.”
Cassidy smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”
Hamish nodded, sighing inwardly. He wanted – he needed – to go back to his ship. The longer he stayed planetside, the greater the chance his superiors would reassign him permanently ... a fate worse than death. His shadowy other self had stayed in space for most of his career, commanding starships and squadrons and entire fleets ... he had no idea what his future would be like now, but he had no intention of remaining trapped on the ground. He might die, as he traded blows with alien ships, yet at least it would be relatively simple. The political world surrounding him, on the other hand, wasn’t simple at all. His friends might be enemies and vice versa ...
Everyone wants something here, Wentworth had said, and they’ll do whatever it takes to get it.
Hamish gritted his teeth. He hated politics. He had no interest in politics.
But politics, it seemed, had an interest in him.
Chapter Eighteen: Earth Orbit, 2308
Cassidy Waters felt as if her world had been taken apart and put back together over the last week ... nearly perfectly, nearly perfectly enough to convince her that everything was normal, and yet not quite perfectly enough to convince her that the world wasn’t slightly off-kilter. She’d been arrested and interrogated, threatened with life imprisonment and even execution, then released and given credentials to attend the most important event since the Great Powers had signed the Planetary Defence Treaty only two short months ago. She practically had whiplash from how many times her bosses had disowned her, claimed her as one of their own, then disowned her again ... no doubt it would all look neat and tidy, when someone put together the history of the affair, but for her it was just confusing. She didn’t really know what had happened to her.
Or who pushed for my release, she thought. Or who sent me the files in the first place.
She leaned forward as the bus passed through the security gate and drove into the semi-disused airport. The passengers should have been searched, along with their luggage, but clearly whoever had given them clearance to enter had decided they didn’t need to be checked. She glanced at the others on the bus, mostly military officers in their regular uniforms, and scowled inwardly. The military might be venerated in public, but in her experience soldiers – and sailors, airmen and spacers – were just as vulnerable to bribes and corruption as the average civilian. For all she knew, one of them was carrying a gun or something else equally dangerous.
Silence fell as the bus rounded a corner and drove towards the shuttlecraft. Cassidy leaned forward, her eyes nearly skipping over the futurist craft even though she’d been told what it looked like. It wasn’t a craft that looked equally capable in air or space, but a boxy shape that looked more like a brick than a flying aircraft. The bus was actually larger than the shuttle ... she shook her head in disbelief, feeling paranoia gnaw at her mind. The President had addressed the nation, informing the public of the future fleet and the defeat of the alien invasion, but part of her still refused to quite believe it. The whole story was absurd and yet, they wouldn’t have sent a small army of security agents to arrest her for posting utter nonsense. They’d have been content to watch as she was fired, after she made a fool of herself.
The bus came to a halt. The doors hissed open. Cassidy stood with the others and followed them out of the bus, across the tarmac and into the shuttle. It was larger on the inside than she’d expected – she guessed the drives must be worked into the bulkheads – the seats larger and more comfortable than anything she’d enjoyed when flying. Captain Boswell stood by the pilot’s chair, nodding politely to his guests. Cassidy wondered, again, if he was the one who’d requested she be freed. She hadn’t been able to talk to him in private, where she could have asked. In truth, she wondered if she might never know.
“Take your seats,” Captain Boswell said. “We’ll be leaving shortly.”
Cassidy sat, next to a middle-aged military officer who glowered around the interior as if he suspected a trap. She suspected she knew how he felt. The future shuttlecraft felt more like a prop from a movie set than anything real, the kind of spacecraft that looked good on the outside and yet could no more fly under its own power than Cassidy herself. And yet, there was a faint tingle in the air that suggested ... something. She reached for the buckle and strapped herself into the chair. It was almost sinfully comfortable.
Captain Boswell sat in the pilot’s chair, Captain Anderson beside him. Cassidy wondered what the older man made of the whole affair. Their interview hadn’t been as long as she would have liked, and she suspected half wouldn’t be allowed past the censors, but ... she wished she’d had more time. The man had struck her as impressive, for all that he’d been cheated out of a stunning military victory. She’d asked if he bore a grudge, and he’d pointed out that thousands of spacers, including hundreds under his direct command, had died in the original timeline. Better to lose his glory than their lives.
Practical too, she thought. The man wasn't classically handsome, but she had to admit to a spark of interest. And far more adaptable than most.
The hatch hissed closed. The shuttle shivered, a holographic projection of the airport surrounding them before it glided upwards, seemingly effortlessly. Her seatmate swore, just loudly enough for her to hear. The projection was stunningly detailed ... she forced herself to stare, noting details as New York fell away beneath them, looking for hints she was staring at a deepfake. She’d been on VR rides where she’d flown beside Luke Skywalker as he steered his way down the Death Star trench, the experience almost terrifyingly real ...she shook her head. There were no tells, save perhaps for the sheer speed of their climb. They were already leaving the planet’s atmosphere. She sucked in her breath. She’d never left the planet and now ...
“The fleet will be arriving shortly,” Captain Boswell said. His voice echoed through the cabin, his odd accent a little stronger now he was in space again. “We’ll witness the arrival, then proceed to John Birmingham for the tour.”
Cassidy felt a flicker of excitement. She wasn’t blind to the opportunity that had been dumped in her lap, no matter who’d given it to her or their motivations for doing so. She was famous now, true, but if she wanted to remain famous, she’d need to dig up more and more stories ... she told herself, firmly, that she’d grasp the opportunity with both hands. She didn’t have a choice, not if she wanted to stay in her career. Her bosses would disown her for good if she let it slip through her fingers.
“Their compensators are very good,” her seatmate muttered, pitching his voice so low she could barely hear it. “There’s just enough of a sense of motion for me to believe it’s real.”
“Yeah,” Cassidy said, although she could feel very little. She found that oddly reassuring. The Death Star ride had involved a great deal of shaking and g-forces. “It has to be real.”
The shuttle seemed to slow, hanging over the Earth. She sucked in her breath as she stared down at the blue-green orb, then lifted her eyes to see the stars burning against the inky darkness of deep space. She was surprised they weren’t twinkling, at least at first, before realising she was outside the atmosphere, where the stars could burn freely. It was hard to believe the lights were giant stars, with planets and perhaps intelligent life of their own ... she wondered, suddenly, how many had been explored in the far future. The spacers talked about filling up the galaxy in a few hundred years ...
But that was before we found out we weren’t alone, she reminded herself. Hostile alien life would be one hell of a barrier. She’d watched some of the debates on the internet ... if humanity had encountered a race that was fairly close to humanity, in both location and technology, it stood to reason that there were others. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of others. How long will it take to spread across the galaxy if the galaxy is already taken?
“Ten seconds,” Captain Boswell said. “Watch.”
Cassidy leaned forward, silently counting down to zero. Local space was empty ... she reminded herself, sharply, that manmade objects, even immense fleet carriers, were tiny on an interplanetary scale. There might be one holding station right next to the shuttle, large enough to carry hundreds of fighters and yet too small to be seen with the naked eye. The last seconds ticked away. Nothing happened ...
And then there was a flash of light.
Gasps echoed through the compartment. Ships – fourteen at least, perhaps more – had appeared out of nowhere, so close she felt she could reach out and touch them. Nine looked ... futuristic, designed by people who didn’t have to worry about the laws of physics; three looked alien, one seemingly more advanced than the other two. The remainder were ... common, blocky and modular warships assembled around a simple drive tube. Her seatmate swore again. Cassidy had no idea why. The future starships couldn’t be that advanced, could they?
Perhaps they are, Cassidy thought. She was suddenly very aware of her own ignorance. She knew little about modern starships, and these ships were from the future. A caveman who stumbled into modern New York wouldn’t have the slightest comprehension of the world around him and she ... she was just as ignorant. She wasn’t even sure how she could begin to start making up for what she didn’t know. This is just ...
***
Hamish wondered, with a twinge of dark amusement, if anyone outside the military officers behind him understood what they’d just seen.
Probably not, he decided. Civilians – even intelligent young women like Cassidy – lacked any understanding of the fundamental realities of interstellar travel. It was impossible to microjump so precisely, even more impossible to do it as part of a fleet and completely impossible to tow starships through jumpspace without causing complete and utter disaster. Impossible ... until now. The future ships had towed their own cripples, and a handful of contemporary vessels, through a microjump, and it had worked perfectly. It had changed the face of both warfare and interstellar travel and ...
He made a mental note to worry about it later as Boswell steered the shuttle towards John Birmingham. The cruiser grew in front of them until it dominated the horizon, an elegant design that left him feeling oddly ashamed of his own ship even though he knew such feelings were silly. He hadn’t hosted Boswell on Grant, and part of him wondered if he ever would ... it would be like a poorer child inviting a wealthy friend home for dinner, wanting to show off just a little and yet knowing he had nothing to show off. He wondered, morbidly, if the entire world would catch some kind of inferiority complex, though they should know their society had eventually given birth to the future society. Or perhaps he was overthinking it. The vast majority of people would go on with their lives, only vaguely aware of how things were changing.
