Dastasji, Agwar System
Adrian Saunders
There was only ever one way things were going to go: wrong. In spite of all his warnings, Adrian was the only one who saw it coming, although he hadn’t been able to predict the exact nature of how everything would go tits up. The current situation was not as bad as it could have been, but things would go bad in a real hurry if they didn’t take action. It was for that reason that they were all standing in the briefing room.
“Alright,” Adrian began without preamble, “the good news is that we’re all alive and nothing is actively trying to kill us for a change. The bad news is that we’re stuck inside a gravity bubble that will stop us from warping out of here.”
“I can’t believe you somehow made an even bigger explosion,” Laphor commented. She sounded like she hated being impressed.
“That wasn’t my explosion,” Adrian refuted. “We just helped free it. If anything it was our explosion.”
“We do have a working warp drive,” Trix added, ignoring the banter. “We have a functionally useless wormhole generator, and an extremely dangerous explosive device that may drop us into a fresh version of the universe. We don’t know how much that would help, but the process would probably kill us so let’s consider that as the very last resort.”
Laphor’s turn came next. “Food supplies are limited, but the ship won’t have any problem with air or water. We don’t have the time or the room to grow crops, so if we want more food we’ll need to get creative.”
“We’re not eating anyone,” Adrian said, immediately ruling out the idea.
Laphor looked sickened. “That is certainly not what I was suggesting! I’m glad we’re not allowing it, though.”
“Let’s go back to that wormhole drive,” Adrian continued. “Artiz, do you think you can make it work properly?”
The V’Straki shook his head. “I do not. Regardless of whether we can successfully navigate the extra-spatial tunnel, we will simply return to the same location at a different time. Let me be the first to say that I do not wish to enjoy another multi-million year journey.”
Adrian nodded; at least that ruled one option out entirely. “Have you figured out how long it’ll take before we can just warp through the bubble?”
“A bit over two years,” Artiz replied. “Under severe rations, our food will run out in a fraction of that time.”
Artiz had pre-empted Adrian’s questions about simply rationing current food supplies, so it was clear that current stockpiles were grossly insufficient. That was particularly disappointing since Adrian had made sure to organise three times what was strictly necessary for the original plan. “We have a lathe, is there anything we could build to make more food?”
“The Igraen Alliance was far more advanced in terms of organic printing,” Artiz replied. “Sadly we had little use for it, since we simply stored a sufficient amount of supplies and maintained a complex logistics network.”
“Added to that, Agwar was the only planet in this system to bear life,” said Trix. “At least as far as these sensors can tell.”
“One option is to greatly reduce the number of mouths to feed,” said Artiz. “Although it would be best to do it now. We would need only quarter the population.”
“Yeah… I’m going to veto that suggestion right now,” Adrian replied. “We can’t have a successful rescue mission if we just kill everyone we’re supposed to be rescuing.”
“Actually… I think he may be onto something,” said Clor, speaking up for the first time. “Except without actually killing them.”
All eyes turned to see what the squat little alien had to say, and Adrian prompted a further explanation with a nod.
“We can’t make more food,” said Clor. “We can’t escape. We can’t kill anyone. We just need to make sure that only a few people need to eat. Adrian, you’ll remember that you pulled the drives from the escape pod.”
Adrian nodded, quickly grasping what Clor was getting at. “You want to put everyone in stasis.”
“That would solve the problem entirely,” Laphor added appreciatively. “Well done, Clor.”
“Does that sound feasible, Artiz?” Adrian asked, turning to the V’Straki physicist.
Artiz frowned. “Potentially. I am not sure how much material the lathe has left.”
“Fortunately I know where we can find a shitload of raw materials just floating around, so that shouldn’t be a problem,” Adrian replied. “Do what needs to be done to start building stasis chambers. We’ll deploy to the flight deck, and bring in the Agwarens as they’re built.”
“Additional quantum stabilisers will also be required,” Artiz replied. “Otherwise all the stasis chambers will fail when the quantum field reverts to the former mess. We also need to consider the rations of those who stay awake.”
“We can set up some basic hydroponics,” Clor added. “That will get them through the rest of the time without having to worry about the supplies.”
“Then make that happen,” Adrian commanded. “We are betting everything on this course of action. As long as it seems, drifting for two years on this ship is nothing compared to the time we endured on that hellhole planet. Everyone, see it gets done.”
With the meeting over, Adrian headed to the Agwaren sector of the Dastasji in search of his representatives, finally locating them testing their strength against the hunters from other villages. Adrian watched the display as Aladyn overpowered another Agwaren in an arm-wrestling match, and only stepped in once the cheering was done.
“Shiplord!” Aladyn exclaimed, drawing up to his full height. “I didn’t notice you… are you here because it’s done?”
The mood turned grim in an instant. The Agwarens may have given up on their world, but that didn’t mean they weren’t grief-stricken by the loss. This little celebration of theirs was something like a wake.
“I suppose I am,” said Adrian, although it wasn’t his primary reason for coming down here. “We need to talk. Where’s Dalon?”
“I’ll find him,” Aladyn replied, picking up that something serious was afoot. “We’ll come to your meeting chamber. Is something else wrong?”
Adrian pursed his lips. “Nothing we can’t solve. I’ll see you in the briefing room.”
It was only a few minutes before Aladyn made good on his promise, and he and Dalon appeared in the briefing room with concerned expressions.
“Shiplord,” Dalon greeted with a nod. “If we’re here then I assume there were complications?”
“Yeah, you could call them that,” Adrian replied, and gestured for them both to sit. He only continued once they’d both done so. “The enemy tried something. They failed, and they died, but now we’re going to be trapped here for a while.”
The Agwarens traded a glance. “Exactly how long are we talking about?” asked Aladyn.
“Far longer than our food will last, even on the strictest rationing,” Adrian replied. “However we have a plan and nobody needs to die. It’s just a little hard to explain, so I thought I would start with the two of you.”
The agitation that had slowly been rising on their features had vanished with the promise that nobody needed to die, and the pair now looked to Adrian expectantly.
“We are going to be building several rooms on the flight deck,” Adrian explained. “We will fill them with your people, and then we will basically freeze them in time.”
“You intend to freeze them?” Aladyn asked, looking alarmed. “Adrian, I know we have more body hair than you, but that would still kill us.”
Adrian shook his head. “Sorry, that wasn’t the best way to phrase it. Time will pause for them. They wouldn’t need to eat, drink, or anything.”
“Such a thing is possible?” Dalon asked, amazed.
“It’s how we store the perishable food,” Adrian replied. “We also use it to keep ourselves alive if we need to abandon ship, since it can take a long time to be rescued. I’ve experienced it myself several times.”
That being said, none of them had been very good times, and Adrian wouldn’t normally subject others to the experience without a very good reason.
“So you’ll be awake while we all… what, sleep?” Aladyn probed. “I have to say that I do not trust that lizard you keep. He is one of them.”
“He’ll be much too busy to cause problems,” Adrian assured them, “and I’ll check everything over myself before sending your people into them. Is that alright?”
“No,” replied Dalon. “We will stay awake as well. It will be easier to reassure the others if they know that two of their own kind will be standing watch over them.”
“Done,” Adrian replied, instantly accepting the condition; there would still be plenty of food under this arrangement, more than enough to let them build the farms.
“I remember once being told a story about a man who entered a cave, and when he emerged it was on a much changed land,” Aladyn replied. “It was a story for children, fit only as entertainment. I did not expect to ever use it as an allegory.”
Dalon nodded along. “It will be suitable, especially for the Elders. They have been quite vocal about not giving up anything else for the sake of survival.”
“Was that all, Shiplord?” Aladyn asked. “Are you able to reveal the fate of our world?”
Adrian raised an eyebrow. “You want to know?”
“It might make the grieving easier,” Dalon replied.
Adrian nodded slowly. Given the condition of the planet he sincerely doubted that would be the case, but they had the right to see what had happened. “I’ll show it to you. Bear in mind that this was not my work. It was the result of stopping the enemy from killing all of us. It was never meant to be this… severe.”
He revealed to them the image of the burning iron core and the distant field of debris that had been their moon. Their expression of horror was entirely justified. “Stars above… I can’t even recognise it anymore, and even our beautiful moon has been broken?”
“There was a very big bang,” Adrian replied. “Don’t spread it around, but we came very close to being transformed into an extremely fine mist.”
“If this is what winning looks like, I’d hate to see losing,” Aladyn replied bitterly. “But you did say the world was going to end, and I suppose you’ve been true to your word.”
“This wasn’t my fucking party, Aladyn,” Adrian shot back. “You want to be pissed off at someone? Fine! You can be pissed off with the Hierarchy who killed your whole civilisation, and whoever built that psycho thing.”
Aladyn glared. “And who would that be?”
“Some bird-like dudes,” Adrian replied. “I wish I could tell you more.”
The Artificial Intelligence had followed him from his original timeline. It was possible that whoever had built it either did not exist here, or that they had absolutely no knowledge about Adrian’s existence. Either way he could only hope there wouldn’t also be a vengeful army of the things coming after him. Knowing its creators were beyond ancient, Adrian would have preferred knowing the first thing about them. Only then could he have taken steps towards protecting himself.
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Divine Palace of the Empire, Irzht Prime
Thomas Bristow
It was a Sunday morning. It must have been a Sunday morning because otherwise there was absolutely no excuse for the path to the gardens to be covered in flower petals, nor for the air to be gently perfumed, nor for the highly skilled quartet to be following Tom on his walk while playing his personal theme song, the Irzht national anthem. Life was good, even after a hundred million years, especially since it was about a hundred million more than he’d ever expected to get in the first place. Humans were not made to live this long, though Tom had left that behind aeons ago. You couldn’t be the most important person in an intergalactic empire if you were going to do something as mundane as die.
Tom breathed in the lightly scented air as the sun gently baked what passed for skin. Many years ago this would have been impossible, and there was no way to breathe or feel anything, but such limitations had been overcome in the early days of the empire.
“Good morning, Clux!” he said cheerfully as he passed the creature prostrating itself before him. “Blessings upon you and your house!”
“Thank you God Emperor!” the official shouted back, somehow managing to prostrate himself even further. “Your wisdom and benevolence is everlasting!”
“You’re damn right it is!” Tom replied, giving the creature known as Clux a wink along with pistol fingers.
“All hail the God Emperor!” shouted the guards at the gate, raising pistol fingers to the sky and pretending to fire them. This was the greatest salute in the history of creation, and Tom never got tired of seeing it. Intergalactic empire aside, this was the thing he was most proud of.
“Hail me!” he replied enthusiastically. This happened absolutely every day and he still loved it. As rocky as the start might have been, there probably wasn’t anyone in the universe having a better life than Thomas Bristow right now.
The Divine Palace was an absolutely gargantuan structure, surrounded by a vast curated garden. The palace itself was impressive, but Tom preferred living in a much more modest dwelling in a private grotto. It was where he could be as Zen as possible, which was one hundred percent needed for a busy God Emperor. Stress could kill, after all.
Every day he got to make the journey to the palace under absolutely perfect conditions. The weather was always fine, the garden a magnificent feast for the senses, and each day held a slightly different celebration in his honour. Today his arrival at the gates was heralded by a cappella version of a popular synth-pop song praising his benevolence. It ended with literal fireworks, which were a nice touch.
“A great way to start the day!” Tom exclaimed cheerily. It was important to make them feel their efforts were being appreciated, if only because his disappointment tended to be terminal for those involved. It had happened over seven thousand times, but he still wasn’t used to all the screaming.
Practically moon-walking into the council chamber, he spun on a heel and delivered pistol fingers to all six of his counsellors. They dutifully returned the gesture before being seated, and it was clear that today there was something extra to discuss.
“Oh the mood in here is bringing me down!” Tom announced, much to the alarm of the counsellors, and instantly everyone was much more cheerful. “Happiness is so much better.”
“Yes, God Emperor!” agreed the nearest counsellor, the one who donned the yellow hat. All of the counsellors wore differently coloured hats, as it was the only means through which Tom could reliably identify them. A hundred million years with these creatures and he still couldn’t be bothered to tell them apart. Maybe that said something about him, but it was more likely that they were all so uninteresting and tended to die before he could form a meaningful relationship with them. Not that anyone dared to form a social relationship with the God Emperor, since that constitute both heresy and treason.
“What have we got today?” Tom asked, putting his feet up on the desk and reclining. A footrest was placed on his part of the table to provide maximum comfort whenever he sat like this. “And remember to keep it interesting!”
Once upon a time they’d come to him with all manner of questions about running the empire. Tom had just told them to do whatever he could think of at the time, but had eventually persuaded them to just make the decisions for him. He was a higher existence, after all, and couldn’t be expected to deal with worldly matters. He’d even managed to offload talking to the people, and had replaced such sessions with an automated forum he’d based on a scene from The Wizard of Oz. “Oh, before we start, I’m a bit thirsty. What drinks do we have available?”
The servant responsible for the footrest pulled out a data tablet. “God Emperor, today we have Kuhl-Ad, Ko-La, and the new drink you called ‘Fo-Sho-Co-Co’.”
Tom stifled a snigger at the last one. It had tasted kind of like hot chocolate, or at least as far as he could recall. The naming system was just one more way of keeping himself sane and ultra-Zen in an otherwise demanding lifestyle. “I’ll take the last one, but chilled.”
It was mere moments before another servant scurried out holding a hastily cooled can. Cracking open the seal, Tom took a sip and smiled. “Continue,” he said, waving his hand.
“God Emperor,” began the counsellor with the blue hat, “Some news has arrived from the Low Chamber on the First World.”
Tom paused mid-sip. The Irzht homeworld was a total dump these days, and news that came out of it was rarely good. The primary star was on its way out, and it had only been natural to migrate the capital to somewhere much better. Irzht Prime was the closest he’d managed to find to old Earth, wherever it might be, and had been selected for only that reason. He did not explain that to the people, only assuring them that the God Emperor worked in mysterious ways. The original Divine Palace still stood, and served as a regional hub of activity in the older parts of the empire. “Go on.”
“A member of the Clan of the Eye returned without his ship,” the blue-hatted counsellor continued. “Obviously he was reprimanded in the most terminal sense for his failure.”
Tom remained silent. He was still waiting for the part where this was supposed to be his problem.
The blue-hatted counsellor smiled extra-wide before delivering the next part of the news. “Unfortunately it appears that it may have something to do with the Heresy Wars.”
Tom put his feet down and leaned forward, giving the servant only enough time to remove the footrest. “Explain yourself!”
The blue-hatted counsellor looked stricken with fear, but still managed to obey. “Another species has Cradle technology! We believe they were used by an offshoot of the Rebellion to found an army.”
“They have an army!?” Tom asked, suddenly alarmed. This would probably turn out to be yet another minor incident, but for the moment it was making the day eventful. “Have they been crushed yet?”
“Well… about that, God Emperor, it seems that the genetic sample of the clansman assigned to survey that galaxy is different to the one from the individual who returned,” the blue-hatted counsellor advised. “Close enough to be siblings, but definitely distinct.”
“An error, maybe?” Tom suggested.
“We had thought that, and given the severity of the situation we undertook additional scans of the remains,” the counsellor replied. “There was an unexpected difference in quantum readings. Between this and the data on his survival pod, we believe he actually came from a different timeline. Here are the visual logs.”
Tom’s mouth went dry as he saw the images. He wasn’t about to tell the Irzht this, but he’d been through the same situation. It had been in the early days after he’d been abducted by some grey-skinned little weirdoes, not too long after the existence of humans became a widely known problem. Tom had been trying to escape some godawful space bugs when his ship had been pulled into an unexpected spatial anomaly created by an alternate version of his ex-best friend of all people. Trying to get back to his own timeline had ultimately stranded him in the middle of nowhere with a group of barely sapient bird-things and a greatly-extended life expectancy. Things had more or less developed from there.
It had been a long time since Thomas Bristow had felt anything like these emotions, but he quickly composed himself and considered the images of the spatial anomaly. “Is this all the data we’ve got?”
“There are some fragments of a conversation held with the Cradle thief,” the counsellor admitted. “They are obscene, so I did not imagine your divine eminence would wish to—”
“Display it,” Tom instructed, and looked at the screen expectantly. For some reason he felt nervous.
The image loaded, displaying three vacuum-suited individuals. There was a grey-skinned weirdo, some kind of lizard guy, and last but not least a human.
Time seemed to stop for Thomas Bristow. The video, on the other hand, continued as his ex-best friend thanked the Irzht for answering the fucking communications link. Just one tiny fragment of video had turned everything on its head.
The first emotion to take control was anger, and Tom roared as he hurled his cup at the display. It struck it heavily, but bounced off without causing any damage. A servant dutifully took a chair and smashed it into the screen until both chair and screen were in ruins.
The counsellors were in total shock at this display. The days when Thomas Bristow looked like a human had ended before he’d found the Irzht, and no doubt they had thought they were showing him an issue that might interest him. Certainly if it had been anyone other than Adrian-fucking-Saunders he might have been more excited, but right now it would be much more cathartic to rip the man’s throat out.
“I am going to go rake some sand,” Tom growled, leaving the council session in a fury. The quartet began to play as he returned to the path, only to flee under a single glare. Everybody knew what to do when the God Emperor was in a foul mood.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Tom muttered as he stalked along the path. He had searched for Earth but hadn’t found it no matter how many galaxies the Irzht went through. Ultimately he figured that it had never existed in this timeline, and wasn’t prepared to keep timeline hopping into failure. Now there were two possibilities: Adrian Saunders had lived for a hundred million years and still looked gloriously youthful, or this timeline somehow experienced time at a slower rate, thereby dumping Tom in the distant past.
He grabbed a rake and started moving sand around. This was supposed to help let Tom feel Zen whenever the world was getting to him, but it failed to work instantly and he ended up smashing the rake to pieces on a rock.
He looked at the broken handle in his hands and laughed bitterly. “Well… that did help a bit.”
It helped enough for him to take a step back at any rate. As the God Emperor this behaviour was far from becoming, and it was time to start making decisions. This wasn’t something he could just let happen.
“Right, so… Earth is real again,” he said, taking stock. “And Adrian Saunders is still a giant cunt.”
The question is what he was going to do with this information. He hadn’t been to Earth in a hundred million years, and was far from human anymore, but it was still his original home and he would feel a little bad if the Irzht armada cleansed the entire human race. On the other hand humanity could actually become a serious threat to him, whereas the Irzht were so critically stupid they’d unquestionably program their artificial intelligences to accept someone like a God Emperor could actually exist. It was a lot easier ruling over people too dumb to question their reality.
That decision could wait. Obviously Adrian Saunders needed to die before any other concern. Just fucking the man’s wife had sent him into a murderous rage that Tom had only just escaped from. That happened the very night he was abducted, and had been an extremely memorable experience. Revenge had been a strong motivator for a long time and timeline hopping had allowed Tom to get really good at killing Adrian Saunders. The fact that this one had managed to turn a Creation Engine into a bomb was just more reason.
Done with ruining the rake, Tom returned to the council chamber where the counsellors were engaged in an argument. They fell silent as soon as they saw him, and began to prostrate themselves in terror.
“Get up!” Tom commanded. “Make sure that man in the video is dealt with. I want evidence.”
“Yes, God Emperor!” the blue-hatted counsellor shrieked. “Thank you for your mercy!”
“I hesitate to bring this to the Divine One’s attention,” ventured the yellow-hatted counsellor, “but there is one more item of concern regarding that galaxy.”
“What could it possibly be?” Tom asked acidly.
“We had sent another scout ship to the last known coordinates of the pod,” the counsellor explained. “The intent was to gain more information about what happened, and to continue the original mission. The system detailed in the data logs was not there; it was gone! Further to that, we have just received word that communications across the entire galaxy have stopped. Initial examinations report that civilisation has completely collapsed.”
If the appearance of Adrian Saunders had put Tom on the back-foot, this news should have planted him on his arse. Tom recalled the galaxy as being a flourishing place, and he couldn’t imagine a situation where it all just stopped. “Do we know what caused it?”
“The Artificial Intelligence aboard the scoutship performed some diagnostics on derelict vessels,” the yellow-hatted counsellor replied. “It appears to be malicious computer code. Deeply embedded in it was a single message that overwrote every piece of data in their computer networks. It translates as ‘Askit was here’.”
Tom blinked in confusion. “Who the fuck is Askit?”
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Fallen City, Gamlis
Askit
“I am the greatest Corti to ever live!” Askit declared as he stood before the fallen member of the Shadow Wing. She was still reeling from the sudden changes to her thought patterns, but it didn’t look like it was going to be lethal. That was promising, although it would be a little longer before he could be accept the results. Neither of them was a neurologist, and there was no way of telling what other effects the process might have on a fully developed Corti mind.
If Auna still had a desire for revenge it was currently overshadowed by severe nausea. “How long does this feeling last for?” she demanded. Holding her head in both hands, she was shuddering on the floor.
“No idea,” Askit replied. “You’re proof of concept.”
She stared at him in confusion. “But you…”
“I’ve been immune for as long as I remember,” he replied. “I just didn’t realise it until recently.”
For Auna this process involved the destruction of her most deeply held beliefs. As a Corti she couldn’t help but follow the thread of lies to wherever it led, and that was looked to be rather unsettling. For Askit it was more like a moment of enlightenment. He hadn’t known about the influence of the implants until very recently, and this was the first time he’d been able to witness a fellow Corti breaking free of their grip. Thus far it was a little disappointing.
“That hardly seems fair!” she complained, and then vomited on the floor. “Augh, disgusting!”
Askit was unmoved. “I’ve lived with humans for years. This much is nothing. Most people think they’re weird for covering their bodies with clothes, but frankly I’m glad they do.”
“You don’t sound like you like them,” Auna observed, struggling to raise herself to a sitting position.
Askit glared at her. “The list of people I like is a very short one, and contains more humans than Corti. They defy normal classification in every sense.”
Askit regarded humanity as a whole with caution. He knew they were strong as well as clever, and possessed an unmatched talent for cunning. Most Corti would claim they still had superior brainpower, but Askit’s observation was that it was simply too different to compare.
“So you admire them,” Auna inferred.
Askit snorted. “I am not that far gone. They’ve impressed me, and they keep impressing me. You, on the other hand, do not seem to be meeting my expectations. The Shadow Wing have a reputation, you know?”
Auna shook her head. “I’ll have you know that I’m an elite—”
“Soldier, saboteur, whatever,” Askit replied, dismissing the claim before it could even be finished. “You were beaten by a guy who’s very good with a computer. Well… I suppose I may actually have more real combat experience than you.”
Auna did not look as though she believed him. “You?”
There was no need to answer that question. It would take Askit too long to reel off all the adventures he’d been on, and most of them were too far-fetched to sound real. Auna wasn’t going to benefit from such exposition anyway. “How do you feel?”
“I think I’m getting better,” she admitted. “The sickness is passing, and my head is clearing.”
“Good enough,” Askit replied, and tapped the final command on his data tab. Auna spasmed violently before falling dead; the experiment was over.
Askit regarded the corpse with mild regret. He hadn’t disliked the female, but there was no way to verify her supposed change of heart. The objective was more important than her life. “Sorry, but I did say you were proof of concept.”
He dragged the body from the ship and dumped it in the shadows before returning to the entrance of the vessel. Keffa had gone in search of Darragh, but the ship was ready and they would soon return. They had a tendency to abhor things like this, so it had been better for them to remain ignorant.
He didn’t need to wait long; he could hear Keffa calling out for him before he saw them. “No need to shout,” he replied. “We’re ready to go.”
“You got it working!” Darragh noted with relief. “Thank goodness! I thought we were going to be stuck here forever.”
“We didn’t find her,” Keffa replied. “You didn’t hear anything down here?”
“Dead quiet,” Askit assured her, smirking slightly.
Darragh grimaced. “God, I hope she doesn’t somehow tell someone about all this.”
“No use worrying about that now,” Askit replied, guiding them into the ship. There was no need to make haste, but letting them mill around outside would just invite discovery and later recriminations. “It’s time to get going. Personally I can’t wait to get off this awful planet.”
“No argument from me,” said Keffa, eager to leave. “Dibs-not-it on telling Jen about all this. She’s going to be pissed as hell.”
It was the first time Askit had heard this phrase, but anybody could recognise the importance Keffa had attached to it. He quickly repeated the phrase before Darragh had the chance.
“God!” Darragh moaned. “You guys are totally feckin’ heartless, you know that?”
Complaining all the way inside, he took up his post on the navigation console with a scowl. “Ark station locked in.”
“Next problem,” said Keffa from the pilot’s seat, “the shipyard doors are still closed. I’m not sure what Darragh and I can do to get it open, and I don’t think ramming it will help.”
Askit smiled as the external doors exploded with a thunderous boom. Shrapnel rained down across the shipyard, along with many clouds of dust and ash. A shaft of pale light descended from the door, revealing the unbroken path to the sky. “And that’s why it never hurts to have a spare missile.”
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