Future Shock, page 6
“Put us down gently,” he ordered. “And then wait here.”
“Aye, sir.”
Hamish felt a twinge of guilt – Yvonne was too young, an officer who wouldn’t have been assigned to his ship if there wasn’t a war on – then gathered himself as she lowered the shuttle to the deck. He had brought a recorder and a sensor pouch but nothing else. Not even a firearm ... technically, that was against regulations, yet he was pretty sure a single pistol wouldn’t make any difference if the newcomers turned nasty. The action holovids might feature daring men taking control of entire starships completely on their own, but he doubted it was possible even for a Navy SEAL. He certainly couldn’t. He checked the exterior sensors – the air outside was breathable, a perfect mix – then stepped through the airlock. The sheer immensity of the shuttlebay rose up around him.
He paused, trying to centre himself. It was a simple shuttlebay, and yet it was proof of immense technical superiority. The gravity field alone was staggering. The handful of small craft at the far end of the shuttlebay made his shuttle look like a piece of junk. The force field behind him, keeping the atmosphere inside the starship ... his mind reeled. It was just too much. He had to take a long breath as he saw an inner hatch opening, revealing an older man in a simple white uniform. He didn’t recognise it. The golden emblem on his shoulder was utterly unfamiliar. He was ...
Hamish stared. The man was clearly human, but there was something about him that was slightly off. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with a pleasant yet bland face, tinted skin and dark hair, but his eyes were the eyes of a man who had seen terrible things. Hamish couldn’t put the feeling into words, not really, yet he was sure the man was far older than he looked. The best rejuvenation treatments the human race had developed, treatments so expensive few could afford them, couldn’t do more than prolong life for a few decades. This man ... this man looked middle-aged and old at the same time.
“Welcome aboard,” the man said. “I am Commodore Boswell. Ethan Boswell. Terran Federation Navy.”
“Anderson. Hamish Anderson.” Hamish took a breath. “The Terran Federation?”
“There’s no way to sugarcoat this,” Boswell said. His accent was a melange, a jumble that made it hard to place his origins. “We’re from the future. 2625, to be precise.”
Hamish wasn’t as surprised as he suspected he should be. It fitted the evidence. The idea of a top-secret project producing such technology was absurd; so was the idea of human slaves stealing alien ships and setting out to return home. Starships from the future ...
“If you’re from the future,” he said slowly, “does that mean you know me?”
“Yes.” Boswell looked oddly worried. “Just by being here, we’ve changed time. This meeting was never meant to occur.”
He paused. “But it might be a blessing in disguise.”
“We’ll see,” Hamish said. He’d read a few time travel novels when he’d been a teenager, including several featuring future wet-navy ships sent back in time, but he’d always thought time travel impossible. The mere presence of a starship from the future would create a paradox ... right? He didn’t know. “Why ... how did you even get here?”
“That is something of a long story,” Boswell said. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you the future.”
Hamish felt numb as Boswell led him through the hatch and down a long corridor. It was lined with refugees, men and women who stared at him as they walked past ... their faces betraying a deep and profound despair. Ice prickled down his spine. The newcomers – the time travellers – were refugees, fleeing into the past to escape ... what? He swallowed hard. The ship around him was powerful enough to take on the entire USN and win easily ... what could they be running from? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Boswell led him into a surprisingly typical briefing room, complete with a table, a handful of chairs and a holographic projector showing both fleets. “Would you like refreshment?”
“Yes, please,” Hamish said. “Coffee, if you have it.”
“Here.” Boswell pointed to a small slot in the bulkhead. Hamish stared as the slot flared with light, the glow rapidly coalescing into a simple mug of steaming coffee. It was ... Boswell picked up the cup and held it out. Hamish took it and sipped gingerly. It tasted real. “That’s one thing that gets invented a hundred years from now.”
“A matter reformer,” Hamish breathed. “Right?”
“Something like that,” Boswell said. He ordered a mug for himself. “Please. Take a seat.”
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Hamish said, as he sat. “Who are you people running from and why ... how ... did you get here?”
“We call them the Killers.” Boswell’s voice was steady, but his eyes were haunted. “They came out of nowhere and started to kill. Starships. Planets. Rings. Asteroid colonies. They tore them all to atoms. We made a stand at Earth, and they slaughtered us. Thousands of starships, all wiped out in less than an hour. This squadron ... we were developing a new stardrive, something that might let us get clear and rebuild somewhere a very long way away. They caught us, we triggered the drive, and ... we wound up here.”
Hamish sucked in his breath. He believed every word.
“And what now?” His voice sounded weak even to himself. “If you’re here ...”
“We’ve already changed history,” Boswell said. “And it is about to get worse.”
***
Ethan hadn’t been sure what to expect when he’d come face to face with Captain Anderson.
The man was a war hero, if an accidental one. His career hadn’t been that impressive, and his advancement had been slow, until he’d led his squadron into a desperate battle that had won time for the combined navies to assemble and drive the Diyang out of the Sol System before it was too late. Afterwards ... Ethan studied him thoughtfully. Anderson had had shock after shock, from the encounter with the future starships to coming onboard and seeing technology he’d believed impossible, and yet he was still coherent, still thinking. It was almost a shame Ethan had to level with him completely. There was no way to know how he’d react to the next bit of news.
He tapped the console, displaying a historical record. “You weren’t supposed to intercept us,” he said, quietly. “You were supposed to continue on your patrol. One day from now, you were supposed to detect an alien fleet entering the system” – he felt his head ache as he tried to sort out the tenses – “and fight a delaying battle long enough for the rest of the space navies to mount a counterattack. That fleet is already on its way.”
And we haven’t had time to confirm it has arrived, he thought, grimly. Had history changed more than they’d thought? Or had they fallen into an alternate universe? Everything matched the history records so far, but they were too far from Earth to check the fine details. I’ll have to send one of the destroyers to check once we sort this mess out.
Anderson was staring at the historical record. “If that fleet really is coming, we’re already out of position.”
Ethan winced, inwardly. Anderson’s fleet was nowhere near as mobile as the future starships. If they pushed their drives to the limit ... no, they weren’t going to make their historical meeting with the incoming aliens and engage them. History had definitely changed ... he grimaced as he realised they would have to stop the incoming fleet. It wouldn’t be much of a battle – the tech gap was just too wide – but it would scare hell out of the locals. The human race had yet to mature, yet to put the past in the past and stride onwards into a bold new future. If they were scared of the future fleet ...
And the Killers are waiting for them, Ethan thought, grimly. The Killers were hardly the only threat – the Zargana and several other races were in the past, or the future – but they were the one that had won, that had crushed the human race. How will the locals react when they hear about the Killers?
Anderson looked at him. “Can you stop the incoming fleet?”
“Yes.” Ethan knew there was no choice. The idea of vanishing into deep space and setting up a hidden colony was tempting, but history had already been derailed. “And after that, we need to come to some kind of agreement with your superiors.”
“That’ll be easy,” Anderson predicted. “Offer them artificial gravity and force shields and they’ll fall over themselves to give you whatever you want.”
“Noted.” Ethan rubbed his forehead. “If only ...”
He shook his head. It would have been easier if they’d fallen back in time to the early days of the Terran Federation. They would have reported to the past admirals and ... everything would have been a great deal simpler. But the human race of 2308 was fragmented ... he couldn’t recall the details, not offhand, but there were a lot of colonial struggles in humanity’s future. Who knew how they’d play out now? Hell, most of the major governments were disturbingly authoritarian, using public safety as an excuse to crack down on free speech and democracy. Giving Federation technology to them would make matters a great deal worse.
“We’ll see,” he said. They were safe from the Killers now. They could afford to take the time to sit down and plan out how to handle the situation. “We’ll deal with the incoming threat ... I assume you’ve already communicated with your superiors?”
Anderson checked his watch. “They should be getting the first alert message shortly,” he said. Estimating how long it would take for a transmission to reach its destination was an old spacer’s trick. “But they won’t know more until the later messages reach them.”
Ethan scowled. “A time delay,” he said, crossly. “No hypercom here, of course.”
He stared at the display for a long moment, then shrugged. “We’ll take the fleet to intercept the incoming enemy,” he said, finally. “And then we’ll make contact with your government.”
Anderson met his eyes. “I need to be there to see it,” he said. “Can you tow my ship?”
“Of course.” Ethan allowed himself a smile. “Or we can find room for you on mine.”
“I think I need to be on my command deck, for now,” Anderson said. He needed to reassure his crew ... and his superiors. “I also need to update Titan Base.”
“Understood.” Ethan paused as a message flickered into his implants. “I need to go attend to something. Please remain here. You have full access to the datanet, use it as you see fit.”
“Is it wise to read the future history books?” Anderson sounded unsure. “Or ...”
“History has already changed,” Ethan said. “And it will likely change beyond all recognition in the days and weeks to come.”
***
Hamish wondered, as Boswell left the compartment, if leaving him alone was some sort of test.
He couldn’t recall any foreigner being granted unrestricted access to a USN computer core. It was rare for anyone who wasn’t a naval officer to be given access, and even they had their access permissions sharply circumscribed. He couldn’t read files he didn’t have a clear need-to-know, and even accidentally trying to gain entry could result in an investigation, perhaps even a court martial. And yet, Boswell had left him alone ... or was he? The bulkhead was clean, lacking even a single decoration, but there could be any number of bugs embedded in the metal, watching him. Hell, they were probably monitoring everything he read on the computer.
Bracing himself, he tapped a switch. The user interface was simple, easy to use. A few hundred years of development had clearly done wonders, he noted, as he tapped his name into the holographic keyboard. Hundreds of files appeared in front of him, each one claiming to be a biography of a space navy hero. He couldn’t help wondering if they’d mistaken him for John Paul Jones, or Admiral Nimitz, or even Neil Armstrong. There was no reason there should be multiple volumes of his life and times. But there were.
Hamish hesitated. Did he want to know?
He did. He scanned a short biography quickly, feeling his blood run cold. His early life was perfectly documented, right down to his first girlfriend ... the one who had decided she didn’t want to be married to the navy. His training, his first cruise, his first promotion, his slow climb to his first command ... a chill ran down his spine as the biography moved into fiction, an outline of a career he hadn’t had ... yet. A desperate battle, a promotion, a series of squadron and fleet commands ... it wasn’t real, and yet there was something about it that made it authentic, something he couldn’t ignore. He’d had an ancestor who’d written alternate timelines, incredibly detailed pieces of work, and yet they’d never quite rung true. This one did.
Impossible, he thought.
He poked through the files, selecting and scanning a handful at random. Their current enemies, the Diyang. Later enemies ... the Killers, creatures who had never shown themselves to humanity and yet brought the human race to the brink of extinction. Starship designs so advanced they might as well be alien, stupendous megastructures so large he couldn’t even begin to imagine how they’d been constructed, starships so big they laughed at the Death Star ... how had such a towering civilisation fallen? It was just unbelievable.
My family are safe, he thought, relieved. The files said they’d survived the Diyang. That’s good ...
His eyes lingered on one final file, an introduction to the Terran Federation. It was a grim reflection of the ideals of the United States and Western Civilisation, ideals that had been forgotten long ago in the face of civilisation-threatening disasters, falling birth-rates and truly horrendous economic insecurity. It touched him to think that humanity had recovered from its self-inflicted wound, but ... would the current politicians back in Washington agree? Or Beijing or London or Brussels or ...? Where did his duty lie?
Something flickered. He looked up just in time to see a pretty young woman – with old eyes – materialising in front of him. “Ethan has been delayed,” she said. “I’ve been asked to keep you company.”
Hamish stared. “You’re an AI?”
“No, I’m an eHuman,” the image said. “Rachel Boswell.”
“An eHuman?” Hamish felt as if he were losing his mind. “What is ...?”
Rachel cocked her head. “Ah. They – we – haven’t been invented yet. In simple terms, my essence was transcribed into a datacore and my physical body was placed in stasis. I am essentially a human who lives in an electronic world.”
Hamish shook his head in disbelief. “How do you know you’re not just a copy? Or ...”
“I think, therefore I am.” Rachel smiled. “Or maybe I think, therefore I think I am.”
“I ...” Hamish wasn’t sure what to make of it. The whole idea struck him as absurd and yet ... who knew what would be possible in the future? “Do you plan to return to your body at some point? Or will you be displacing yourself from your own body? Or ...?”
“My body was lost during the Battle of Earth,” Rachel told him. She didn’t sound very concerned about it. “My genetic code is on file, and they’ll clone me a new body, sooner or later. Right now, there are other problems.”
“Like a hostile fleet bearing down on Earth,” Hamish said. A thought struck him. He’d been too dazed to think of it earlier. “I need to call my ship, before someone does something stupid.”
“I’ll inform Ethan,” Rachel said. “I’m sorry we plunged you into this mess. It wasn’t our intention.”
“You would have been wiped out if you’d stayed put,” Hamish said. It wasn’t as if he’d known he was flying towards a glorious future. The biography he’d scanned might have the ring of truth, but it wasn’t real. Not yet. Not ever. “Better you come here and rebuild than vanish into deep space.”
Rachel smiled, rather wanly. “I hope your leaders agree,” she said, quietly. “No matter what we do, our presence is going to be hugely disruptive.”
Hamish nodded. He couldn’t disagree.
Chapter Seven: TFS John Birmingham, 2308
Captain Rupert spoke with quiet intensity, his holographic presence making it feel to Commander Boswell as if they were sharing a compartment rather than Rupert being on his own ship. “Is it wise to bring a primitive onto our ships?”
Ethan kept his face under tight control. TFS Explorer was a survey ship, operating under strict protocols to ensure no newly-discovered alien race learnt anything of the Federation until their bona fides were firmly established. Making contact with races that hadn’t managed to climb out of their gravity well was forbidden, and any sort of contact with races that hadn’t mastered FTL was frowned upon except in the most extreme circumstances. The human race was not protected by the non-inferences edict, though, and besides ... they were the ones trapped in the past. It wasn’t as if Hamish Anderson – the Hamish Anderson, hero of the First Interstellar War – had fallen through a wormhole into the far future.
The Killers haven’t followed us, as far as we can tell, he thought. But we’ll meet them again, sooner or later. We have to be ready.
“I think we have no choice,” he said, flatly. The briefing had been the quietest on record, relief at escaping the Killers mingling with the grim realisation they’d damaged history beyond repair. It was far too late to run and hide even if he wanted to do it. “History as we know it is gone.”
He took a breath. “And besides, we’re going to need their help,” he added. “Rebuilding our technical base will take years, even with it. Replacing the damaged stardrives and expended missiles will pose all sorts of technical problems, which we will have to solve. The locals” – they were going to have to come up with some proper terminology for the whole affair – “can help us and we can help them in turn, not least with the simple fact their system is about to be attacked.”
The display altered at his command, revealing the Diyang fleet as it glided through interplanetary space. It was impressive by local standards, a hard core of nine fleet carriers and twelve battleships surrounded by fifty-seven smaller ships and hundreds of starfighters. It was difficult to believe Captain Anderson would be able to slow them long enough for the human navies to get into position to intercept, but ... the history records were very clear. They were going to be slowed, then stopped ... they had been, in the original timeline. Now ...
