Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (22 page)

“As His Divine Imperial Majesty very clearly told Johnny, your planet cannot know of this ship's existence. It is far too powerful a vessel to fall into the hands of … primitives. Besides … asteroids strike planets—it's what happens,” Gronack continued. “You can't just go around altering the future—didn't this robot teach you anything in temporal mechanics?”

“We made the future,” Johnny snapped. “If we hadn't come through the fold to Earth the asteroid wouldn't be about to destroy it.”

“Johnny does have a compelling point,” said Alf, smarting from the “robot” tag he knew was meant to be insulting. “As we created the problem I believe we are entitled to resolve it as we see fit.”

“Just the sort of remark I would expect from a sub-sentient mechanoid,” squeaked the Chancellor. “Contact with any non-spacefaring species is strictly forbidden regardless of circumstances. It's unfortunate the rest of these Terrans will be destroyed, but rules
are
rules.”

“Unfortunate!” Johnny said. “What's unfortunate is we're stuck with a windbag like you.”

“Master Johnny,” said Alf. “I know you are upset but you
cannot say such a thing to the Chancellor of the Imperial Court.”

“I'm not letting six billion people die on that planet because of its stupid protocols,” Johnny shouted. “We will save them. Is that understood?” He had got to his feet instinctively, his red face staring up at the spindly phasmeer who towered over him, but was backing away.

“I don't think telling them they're going to die is going to help very much,” said the Chancellor, recovering its composure. “But if you must then go ahead. It won't make any difference.”

“Sol,” said Johnny. “Can you send a radio message to Earth?”

“Of course, Johnny,” the ship replied.

“What's the time difference between them receiving the message and the asteroid striking?”

“Computing … we are currently 2283 light seconds from Earth,” said Sol, “so the planet will receive a message 122,479 seconds before impact.”

“What's that in hours?” said Johnny.

Alf interrupted with, “Why, that's 34.021 94444 …”

“Enough!” said Johnny. “Thirty-four hours … OK, Sol. Send a message saying a fifty kilometer asteroid will strike in thirty-four hours. Give them its trajectory and tell them we'd like to help.”

“Should I send it to anyone in particular?”

“The people of Earth,” said Johnny. “And the Secretary General of the United Nations.”

“They will panic,” said Clara quietly. “Might it be best not to?” She didn't look at the Chancellor.

“No … they deserve to know the truth,” said Johnny. “It's only right.”

“The message has been sent,” said Sol. “Earliest possible radio wave reply is in 67.014 268 minutes.”

“I guess we wait,” said Johnny. He took one last look at the
projection below, turned and headed out of the strategy room to go to his quarters.

Sol was broadcasting the warning continuously, adjusting the times as the ship and the asteroid traveled ever closer, but nearly a day had passed without any word from Earth. It wasn't clear why no one was responding. Johnny had now admitted defeat in trying to repair the Spirit of London's weapons. Sol assured him her drones were working solely on this, but it simply could not be done in time. The shields were worse and only specialist parts that they couldn't create on board could make them operational. Instead, Johnny and Clara had turned their attention to creating a giant habitat on a deck in the center of the ship in place of the five-a-side pitch. They hoped to fill it with evacuees before colonizing a new homeworld elsewhere. Chancellor Gronack had reluctantly agreed to help out, but it had started arguing again with Johnny, telling him it was pointless as they would be unable to take anyone anywhere even if they did rescue them. The row had become so heated that the Chancellor's robes glowed a violent shade of pink that Johnny hadn't seen before, on either it or the Dauphin. Typically, Gronack had gone as soon as Johnny and Clara had turned their backs, which the two of them had decided was for the best as they got much more done on their own anyway. With Alf they would have been quicker still, but he was busy repairing Sol's dark energy drive.

Johnny and Clara agreed. They'd try to rescue Louise and Bentley, desperately hoping they were still alive, take their mum from St. Catharine's and their dad from prison, some of Clara's friends from the Proteus Institute and Johnny's friends from school … the football team … it was such a little thing but Johnny did miss football and probably no one would ever play it
again. He thought back to the night this had all started—football had been the distraction he'd used, unscrambling the TV signal at Halader House so he could talk to Kovac. And then it hit him—television! How could he have been so stupid? He and Clara had wondered what it would be like on Earth with just a day to go, as he was sure the astronomers would have spotted the asteroid by now. They could possibly even see the Spirit of London as she was unshielded and they were now inside the Earth–Moon orbit. TV must be broadcasting, if only to plead with people not to panic. And if it was, Sol could pick it up—TV signals had been leaving Earth in an ever-expanding sphere since the 1940s—aliens seventy light years away could pick them up by now. No wonder the krun had come hunting.

“Sol,” Johnny shouted excitedly into the air above him.

“What is it, Johnny?” the ship replied.

“TV, Sol—television,” said Johnny. “Even if they're not radioing us directly there'll be a TV signal from Earth so we can see what's going on. Put it on the screen. We're done here anyway. See you on the bridge.”

“There do not appear to be any television broadcasts from the planet,” Sol replied.

“Keep trying—there's got to be something,” said Johnny, before turning to Clara. “Come on—let's get to the bridge anyway. It might be the last time we'll see Earth from space.”

But when they arrived on the bridge something was very definitely wrong. They were greeted by Sol telling them that there was absolutely no indication of a sufficiently technological civilization to broadcast TV signals on the planet beneath them, but that wasn't the problem at all. Clara summed it up by saying, “What's wrong with it? It's all squashed together.” There could be no argument. Where was Britain? What could have been Europe and North America were practically joined together with hardly any Atlantic Ocean between them, yet
North and South America were totally unconnected. It didn't look right at all.

“Oh my—that is beautiful,” said Alf, stepping out of the lift shaft and walking over to where Johnny and Clara stood by the giant viewscreen. “There is so much water.”

“Too much,” said Johnny. “The continents are all squashed together.”

“Could we be in a parallel universe?” Clara asked. “Something did go wrong with the fold.”

“Parallel universes, Miss Clara?” said Alf. “It really is good the Chancellor is not here or a comment like that would be the final straw.”

“Where is it anyway?” said Johnny. “Sol—locate Chancellor Gronack. Ask it to come to the bridge.”

“Chancellor Gronack is not on board,” Sol replied.

“What?” said Johnny and Clara together. Johnny continued “How did it leave?”

“That information is not known,” Sol replied.

“Not known?” said Johnny. “You must know … that coward … I bet it took one of the transports.”

“All transports are in their allocated positions in the shuttle bay,” Sol replied.

“How very strange,” said Alf. “What is going on, I wonder?”

Johnny was thinking. Maybe he had seen this Earth somewhere before? “Sol,” he asked, “are the long range sensors now operational?”

“Long range sensors have been repaired and are functioning normally,” answered the ship.

“Can you calculate our galactic position by comparing it with your star charts?” he asked.

“Of course. Computing …” said Sol. The ship took an unexpectedly long time to answer, before responding. “Our position is not calculable by referencing current star charts.”

“I told you,” said Clara. “It
is
a parallel universe.”

“No I don't think so,” said Johnny. “Sol … can you find a match for our position if you run the star charts backward in time?”

“Negative, Johnny,” replied Sol. “A fixed point of reference would be required to perform such a calculation.”

“That's OK,” said Johnny. “Assume this
is
Earth and find out
when
this is.”

“Computing …” Sol began.

“Johnny—what are you thinking?” asked Clara, sounding worried.

“Look at it,” said Johnny pointing to the blue-green world in front of them. “Have you ever heard of plate tectonics … continental drift?” Clara shook her head. Johnny continued. “Ages ago all the land on Earth was in one place—a huge supercontinent, but really slowly they drifted away from each other. If we had a map you'd see how Africa fits right into South America. You see there …” he continued, pointing at the screen, “that's going to become America, but it's not moved away from Europe yet. And there … that's South America and it's moving up and they'll meet eventually. We're in the past. A lot in the past by the look of it.”

“You are correct, Johnny,” said Sol. “I have completed my calculations. We are 64,874,261.451 832 01 years behind Galactic Standard Time. I find this a little … disconcerting.”

“You mean we're never going home?” said Clara, her eyes beginning to water.

“If that asteroid hits there'll never be a home,” Johnny replied, shaking his head.

“Oh my goodness,” said Alf. “If that happens you can't have been born so you can't then destroy the Earth … and that's a Level 4 paradox.”

“A what?” asked Johnny and Clara together.

“Though it is possible the time difference explains the Chancellor's disappearance,” Alf continued, ignoring their question. “If this is 64,874,261.4 …” he hesitated, looking at Johnny. “If this is 65 million years ago, then there must be an enormous tachyon potential within the ship.”

“Tachy what?” asked Clara.

“Tachyons,” Johnny replied. “Theoretical particles that travel faster than light.”

“And backward in time,” Alf continued. “And they most certainly are not theoretical. Why, I have heard the Andromedans used tachyon beam weapons on the Scorpius Cluster.”

Johnny winced. Whatever tachyon beam weapons were, he was sure they weren't pleasant. “But what about the Chancellor?” he asked.

“I told you all about temporal mechanics at the university,” said Alf. Johnny and Clara looked at each other a little sheepishly as neither had paid much attention during these lessons. “Boloban's First Law states that displaced temporal energy will always tend toward the equilibrium.” Johnny and Clara looked at each other uncertainly and then back at Alf, who continued, “That time seeks to correct itself … I suspect that the Chancellor has started traveling forward in time.”

“You mean it'll get back to where it was?” Johnny asked. “That's good isn't it? It means we
can
go home.”

“Good, Master Johnny?” replied Alf. “Good? It will be disastrous. Do you think the tachyons will restore things to how they were? Heavens no. As long as the temporal energy is rebalanced the tachyons will not mind how. The Chancellor could end up a billion years in the future while we remain here. Or more probably we shall all drift forward separately to different time periods. We must stop this happening before it is too late.”

Johnny could hardly think of a more miserable few hours. Destroying the whole world had been bad enough but, if it were possible, he now felt even worse. At least he'd thought he'd still have his sister and Alf and a very cool spaceship to travel in around the galaxy, seeing all the places he'd always wanted to visit. Now the tachyon buildup would take even that away. He slipped away from the bridge and wandered the corridors of the Spirit of London aimlessly, fingering the locket around his neck, finally knowing that he'd never see his mum or dad, or even Bentley, again. And he couldn't even look at their pictures because of the promise he'd made to Bram. Maybe that didn't matter any more and he should open the locket. He looked around and found himself down at the very foot of the ship.