Erebus (40 page)

“Oh, you have a choice. You can say no. You’ve arrested Chad. Hell, you’ll probably arrest me. I know what will happen if you go down that route. I’ll never see the light of day again, but you’ll never get in here again, either. You’ll never know why all this is necessary.”

“Show us,” Vance said.

Paskett gestured at the screen, which blazed to life. A starry vista was visible.

“Welcome to circa 3150 CE. The future,” Paskett said. He knew he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice even if he’d tried. “Want to see Earth?”
They didn’t; they really didn’t.

Cheng hesitated long enough to raise an eyebrow. “Yes,” he said.

The image flicked to that of a world, cracks of fire spread across it, stretching from the day side to the night side. No blue or green remained. Earth looked as lifeless as the moon. Sparkling around it was a ring like that of Saturn’s, a vast halo.

“My God, is that…?” Cheng whispered.

“Yes.”

“And the ring?”

“The debris of space cities. The elevators.” Paskett shrugged. “Bodies. Here’s Mars.” A cloud of tightly packed rubble appeared, glowing from a fire deep within. “Perhaps you would like to see Jupiter?”

The screen changed to a shape like an American football, streams of red gas wisping from it.

“What the hell happened?” Vance breathed; she was leaning on the rail.

“We didn’t know, at first. We got these images but no context. But then we got a message from this guy, who I’m sure we’d all agree is rather handsome.” Paskett’s forced attempt at humor fell flat, even in his ears.

Paskett’s face appeared on the screen. He began speaking. “We know you’re watching. This is you, Curt. I’m gone now. This message has been left in a time capsule, hidden to await the return of Project Oracle.” Paskett—the here and now Paskett—paused the image to give Vance and Cheng time to digest.

“I’m not sure what I’ve been smoking here,” Vance said, regarding the still image, “but that’s you, from a thousand years in the future?”

“Yes.” Paskett unfroze the clip.

“If you are getting this, Oracle has seen what has happened here. I know you’re wondering what caused such…devastation. Sol and the whole of human space—an empire that stretched twenty-five light-years in every direction—is gone.”

The other Paskett leaned back in his chair, gazing at them. “They are, were, a Sleeping Ones race—or their remnants, anyway—a term that only means something to you when
Endeavour
returns from the Mizar and Alcor system. The Sleeping Ones comprise many races throughout the galaxy that have evolved beyond the mere physical. Once a race joins the Sleeping Ones, they hide. The race that did this was on a planet orbiting the black hole, Sagi. Most of the Sleeping Ones are harmless. Don’t get me wrong; they would defend themselves with overwhelming might, depending on the race that evolved into them, but by and large, they would stop at simple defense.

“The Sagi race was different. It colonized much of the galaxy thousands if not millions of years ago. They mastered FTL gateways, seeding them, like the ones on Io, Iwa, and dozens of other places in the territory now claimed by humanity. They expanded prodigiously like we did with our gate network. Then, like every race, they simply evolved. Their empire shriveled and contracted to one place—Sagi.

“There their race went in a new direction, becoming introspective, creating their own reality within the vast supercomputer that orbited the black hole. They thought big, you see. Those black holes are rents in the universe. Properly manipulated, black holes could eventually be used to colonize the very substructure of space-time itself. They wouldn’t just live to the end of the universe…they’d live beyond.

“But the Sagi race may have made a mistake. Or perhaps it was intentional; we simply don’t know. They left a Watcher—something to protect Sagi. This Watcher was activated when we first tested the Iwa FTL gateway. Unfortunately, that’s a fixed point now. It happened before the Oracle project was activated. If I could, I would simply tell you not to succumb to the temptation to use the FTL gateway. But that is not an option anymore. By the time you watch this, it would have already happened.”

“The Watcher attacked human space in 2320. We tried reasoning with it, fighting it, retreating from it. Nothing worked. Your first thought may be, ‘We will simply build a fleet and kick its ass.’” The other Paskett gave a sorrowful smile. “It won’t work. The Watcher is as far beyond us as we are beyond Neanderthals. It simply smashed everything we could throw at it.”

Vance and Cheng were paying rapt attention, their eyes riveted on the image, their pupils large and dark, just like Paskett had done the first time. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he listened. He’d watched it enough that he could have given the speech himself…and perhaps he would in the future—his future.

“And so we find ourselves here.” Paskett mouthed the words with the other Paskett. Yes, he, too, found himself here at his own crossroads, just as the other Paskett had once upon a time. Paskett pursed his lips as the image droned on. “It’s your turn to try something new. You can change the future. We know that much.” The other Paskett leaned forward in the view. “How do we know that? Because my time-line is at least the twentieth time we’ve been round this loop. Oh, I don’t know whether the first Paskett who bothered to count the loops and leave a time capsule was actually the first; he was merely the first to start the count. You are Paskett number twenty-one.

“Attached is a file that shows everything we have tried to stop the Watcher. It’s your turn to try something different. It’s up to you. I’d start by destroying the FTL gateways. One of them is on Io; another is on Iwa in Sirius. Or maybe you could try taking the fight to the enemy.”

The image paused again, and Paskett looked at those in the room. Vance, ashen-faced, Cheng, leaning forward, thinking, processing what he was seeing.

“So,” said Paskett, “you know I took that advice. We attacked the Watcher before it was ready to strike us.”

“And we tried to stop you,” Vance murmured. “Why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. That was tried on several…previous loops. We saw that on the attachment. It was comprehensively fucked up every time we tried to get someone else involved,” Paskett said as firmly as he could, perhaps a little too much so. He sounded angry, and he couldn’t afford to be angry—this was too important. With a determined effort, he put on his most professional voice. “We had to try a different take, striking them in secret before a dozen nations got involved, tugging things one way or another. In one version, sharing the information paralyzed the world into indecision. I couldn’t tell you how many times the file says I’ve been arrested for breaching the OST and the problem was simply ignored. I assure you, spreading the word was my first instinct, but the file proves that wasn’t the way. This time, we went the other way. No grand fleet would be constructed, no diplomatic overtures. A quick, clean surgical strike. Destroy the Watcher with an A-drive assault or, failing that, an antimatter bombardment.”

“So what now?” Cheng asked, turning from the screen at last. “Have you stopped them? Or just fired the first shots in a war?”

“You misunderstand, Mr. Cheng. It won’t be a war. The word
war
implies we are going to be able fight them. No, it will be an extinction event as inevitable as when an asteroid struck the Earth during the time of the dinosaurs.”

“The question still stands,” Cheng said.

“Honestly? No, Colonel, I don’t think we’ve stopped them. That final EM pulse
Gagarin
registered suggests the Watcher is still…alive. I just think we’ve brought ourselves some time while it repairs the damage Talbot inflicted.”

“And what do we do with that time?” Vance asked.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Each Paskett had tried something different, and now he was running out of ideas. They needed to know more. “We need to build up our capabilities, learn more about the Watcher. Learn to stop it.”

“And you are going to do that on your own?” Cheng looked at Paskett.

“I will have to.” Paskett waved at the Oracle screen. “The attachme—”

“Told you what would happen at the start if you sought help. Things are different this time. You have shown the Watcher humanity can strike it,” Cheng said earnestly. “Let me be clear, Paskett. You’ve played us for decades. I don’t like that, but I understand your reticence, based on the intelligence you had. But now you need allies.”

Paskett went up to the man. The surgeries had been good. Only a faint line or two showed at Cheng’s hairline. His nose was different from the images Paskett had watched, but other than that, he looked the same. Paskett looked straight into Cheng’s brown eyes. “Why do you think I’m speaking to you?” Paskett looked over to Vance. “To both of you?”

Vance shook her head. “We’re middle-ranking officers from two different nations. You need true power players to guarantee humanity’s survival.”

Paskett lowered himself onto a bench at the side of the room. He felt very weary again. His face was that of a man in his midforties, yet the weight of responsibility aged his features. This was too much for one man. He gave a deep sigh. “It’s been a relief to tell someone after all these years.”

“Yes.” Vance leaned on the railing surrounding the Oracle block. “But if we are going to do something about this mess, we will need players on the team.”

“And those players need resources,” Cheng added.

Paskett closed his eyes briefly before opening them and looking at Vance. “Yes, I guess we do.”

“You—you’re responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, for the Two Great Cacophonies,” Patrice said. There was no venom; it was a statement of fact.

“Yes.” The host, Paskett, looked again at Vance and Cheng, who had been seated quietly in the corner while the others were watching Trent’s testimony.

“It is…unforgivable,” Patrice said. “You must answer for it.”

“Yes, it is.” Paskett looked around the table. “And yes, I will. I promise that once we confirm that this situation is dealt with—that we are safe, that humanity is no longer under threat by this Watcher–then I will turn myself in.”

Paskett stood, walked to the window, and gazed out. “I have called you here because I have done what I can. I have given us time. Time to come out with a longer-term solution.” Paskett turned and looked at them. “I need your help for that. From all of you.”

The people in the room looked at each other. Some were the heads of nations, others were the chief officers of the vast corporations that, if anything, held even more power, both in-system and out. Yes, it was a testament to Curt Paskett’s standing that he could get them all together.

But now? They were being asked to ensure humanity’s continued survival against a threat that was millions of years old—and millions of years more advanced.

The dark world circling Sagi balanced precariously on the cusp of a black hole. This was not by accident or misfortune, but by design. Over long years, the craters left by Talbot’s bombardment flattened and faded.

That was when the work started. Slowly, the dust and metal that covered the shattered surface of the world began to reform. In the wake of the world that circled Sagi endlessly, a black cloud formed, a black contrail following in its orbit, stretching to millions of kilometers. The diameter of the planet shrank as a significant portion of its mass spewed away, unveiling a glowing sphere of crystal, lightning coursing through it.

Defying the intense gravity of the black hole, the tail of the cloud twisted and turned to stream toward the distant planet where the FTL gateway lay waiting. As the cloud approached, a beam of light shot from the top of the tower, striking the front of the mass. When light met dark, a pulsing flash flared, swallowing the darkness.

***

Something strange.

But what?

Consensus unclear.

The Linked explorer ship
Unity
was far from home in the AD Leonis star system. The crew felt no need for any of the pretensions of normal communication that their peers on Concorde subscribed to. Instead, they spoke as one single voice, all together, all the time.

The world they were orbiting, Sheehan’s Hope, had a small colony of Enhanced on it, and it was their last stop before pressing out to explore the stars of the gateway network beyond.

The bridge crew were reclined on their seats, eyes closed, the information from the ship’s sensors fed directly into their minds. It was a sedate environment; not even the strangeness of what they were seeing caused a physical reaction in them.

Receiving communication from Sheehan’s Hope.

“
Unity
, are you seeing this as well?” The communication from the fledgling colony went directly into the Linked crew’s collective mind.

Yes, we are observing the anomaly. Is this a phenomenon sighted before?
the
Unity
answered, quite literally. None of the Linked had to speak; the ship processed the crew’s thoughts and spoke in a single voice for them all.

“Negative,
Unity
,” the worried voice said. “I mean, we see some pretty weird stuff, but that’s to be expected from AD Leonis. It flares constantly. But this is definitely new.”

Whatever it was occluded the stars across a sweeping expanse of space. The source of it seemed to be the gas giant Renoir, fifth planet out from the star.

In a fashion typical of the Linked,
Unity’s
consensus decided what they would do quickly.

Sheehan’s Hope. We are going to investigate. Going to A-drive.

“Roger that,
Unity
. Be careful.”

Unity’s
A-drive activated and the ship shot toward Renoir at half the speed of light. Minutes later, it crashed out of the Alcubierre bubble back into normal space.

The cloud eclipsing Renoir was vast, taking up half of the sky.
Unity
was a large ship, but suddenly it seemed small and insignificant compared to what lay ahead.