by Barry Kirwan
He knew the most powerful weapon against humanity had been the confusion caused by the reversal from unbridled hope of instant transport to Eden, to nightmarish reports of rampaging alien monsters, and then to terrifying global carnage. Everything had happened so quickly. Many survivors still had no idea what was going on – it was blind panic. And it had all been planned that way. Most people were easy targets, some found in churches or subterranean habitats, others fled to the hills, a few even sought refuge underwater, which didn’t stop the Q’Roth – they turned out to be amphibious and fast swimmers.
A small number of human stragglers might survive for a week or so, but the Q’Roth would eventually track them down – they perceived human bio-energy the same way sharks could smell blood over large distances. Other animals were left untouched, except the rare remaining dolphins and whales, whose bio-electric energy also seemed to be refined enough for the Q’Roth menu. People could hide in irradiated areas for a few weeks, but then the rad-poisoning would finish them off. It was over. Endgame. Time for a few pieces to escape from the chessboard.
He held up a picture of Blake, and the mirror instantly came to life, revealing the off-world leader’s gaunt face. Micah had already given him the bad news about General Kilaney.
"We have as many as are coming. We have as much food and medical supplies as we could gather, plus generators, some livestock – pretty much the manifest you asked for. There’s really nothing more we can do here." He hated saying that – he sounded like a politician.
"Thank you, Micah. We’ll see you all soon."
The connection broke. Blake’s face had seemed to brighten, obviously relieved that he would see his wife again. It hit Micah how ironic it was that he’d been rescued by Blake – again. He wondered if he would ever tell him what he’d known of his son, Robert, before they were captured and held at Kurana Bay. He remembered, a lifetime ago it seemed, being bundled into the chopper by Zack and Blake with the others during the rescue that night. When the news had come out, and there was no mention of Blake’s son, Micah’s analytic skills did the math – if Blake didn’t want it known, Micah wasn’t going to be the one to go public on it. He and Robert had been the only two from their group taken to Kurana Bay, dumped with other captives, so it had been easy to keep it quiet. Someday, though, he’d raise the subject with Blake. Maybe.
Sandy entered the room, interrupting his reverie. "Micah, you have a visitor." She escorted a strained-looking Antonia.
"Hello, Micah," she said tentatively.
He flashed a weak smile. They’d seen each other a few times since she arrived yesterday evening, but since then they’d avoided each other. He knew why she was there. He picked up a picture of Kat, and the mirror flashed various colors before her taut face appeared. We’re all ageing too fast. He gestured for Antonia to sit down as he left his seat facing the mirror. Antonia paused as she passed Micah, her hand touched his arm, and she kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you. For everything," she said, softly.
He nodded stiffly and headed to the door where Sandy was waiting, without a glance backwards. Sandy hooked his arm in hers and they walked out of the room.
"I hear you located the planet?"
Micah shrugged. "It was a team effort – Kostakis had worked out the nav system, and Kat had access to the Hohash. The coordinates were in the data stream, I just couldn’t find the temporal reference, and then it hit me."
Sandy cocked an eyebrow.
"When I was using the Optron to analyze that data stream, just before I went into a coma, I was falling towards a planet. I know now it was the spider planet. But no one ever programmed gravity into an Optronic environment, I mean not real gravity. So I worked out the gravitic constant for the planet and –"
"That was the temporal reference."
He smiled. "Kostakis ran it through the nav system and sure enough it indicated a planet at those coordinates. Since then, the mirrors have shown us images – five hundred years old, of course, but there should be water, and topsoil. The inhabitants didn’t put up a fight, so there was little destruction, and no reason to terraform the planet after the culling. It’ll take two or three weeks to get there, though, even with these ships."
She stopped him, faced him. "Nice work, Micah."
He looked her in the eye, then shrugged again.
"You’re not wearing your father’s jacket."
"No. Pierre wanted it to extract the nannites – Vince has him working on a weapon, just in case we run into the Q’Roth again, or they come looking for us."
She looked at him sideways.
"Okay," he said. "I let it go. There’ve been a lot of things I’ve let go of in the past few days. It was my father’s jacket, not mine."
"I’d say he’d be proud to have you wear it."
Micah shrugged, and smiled. "I know. Really."
"Come on," she said, linking arms again, "I know a feisty old lady who’s been raising merry hell about not being able to see you!"
Micah rolled his eyes, and a smile bubbled up from the depths. She held his arm tightly as they walked along the corridor
Chapter 49
Exodus
Blake had all the Hohash mirrors synchronized, as he prepared to give the final orders. All twelve-thousand people drew together in the four ships to see and hear, via holo-screens, the words of the man who’d shouldered the responsibility for the decision to desert Earth. At the allotted time, silence fell across Eden, interrupted by a few baleful cries of infants and the whimpers of distressed pets. Josefsson had wanted to address the gathering, but Vince dissuaded him. Blake hated giving speeches, but the Eden Mission shrink, Carlson, had insisted it was necessary for morale before they set off. Blake was thankful that Micah had helped him prepare it.
He waited a few moments, with eyes firmly shut as if in prayer, and then broke the hush in a loud and clear voice. "We leave now, with heavy hearts, knowing all is lost for Earth, and that even as we say farewell to Eden, the final embers of our civilization are being extinguished. We could stay and fight – and die with our compatriots, our fellow men and women, friends and lost loved ones. The angels would applaud – and weep at our sacrifice."
He raised his voice. "But it would be foolish, the end of humanity. We are now the last hope of the human race, a small flame taken from those dying embers that will evade the Q’Roth, and seek to burn brightly elsewhere." He paused, letting it sink in.
"We’ve learned a very hard lesson these past days. We won’t be so easily surprised or betrayed in the future. We’ll seek knowledge, allies, find a new home, and raise a stronger human race, one fit to meet with our galactic cousins on equal terms. This will be a hard, long road. But the fact that we have escaped at all, shows our worth. I want each and every one of you to recognize that worth. If ever you have doubts, or become dismayed, or second-guess this decision today, know this – that as the last people on Earth die out in the next few days and weeks, they will have only one hope as the light fades from their eyes – that some will escape – that we will escape, and will carry on the human race. And…" he paused – he had been debating whether to say it or not, but felt he had to – it was part of his own humanity. "And that one day, we will track down the Alicians who betrayed us, and avenge our fallen loved ones, and perhaps in a little less than a millennium, we will search for and find the next generation of Q’Roth nests and exterminate this galactic plague of locusts." Throughout all four ships, thunderous clapping and foot stomping erupted, together with a murmur rising towards a cheer. Before it reached its crescendo, Blake held up his hand, and the clamor abated.
"We must be careful. We must never again make the mistake of hubris, of arrogance, of not thinking ahead. We must be strong and wise, but also clever and cunning. We will never forget our heritage, where we came from. Nor will we allow ourselves to be absorbed by other species, to disappear. We are Humanity, and we owe it to the people we have left behind, all those who have been slaughtered these past few days,
to make that name a proud one in this galaxy. So I say this to you all – and it is not a lie or a politician’s ploy – I say it because I mean it, and I believe it. This is not the end – this is a beginning. Now, everyone, prepare for transit. Our path awaits us"
Blake met Micah on his way to the Control Room. "How’d I do Micah?"
Micah grinned. "You’re a natural; Josefsson looked worried."
Blake smiled. "I’ve heard a lot about you, Micah, these past few days. You seem to have a gift for seeing things, how they unfold. Are you worried?"
Micah’s grin stalled. He was glad Sandy wasn’t around to hear what he was going to say. "We’ve done all we can; each captain has a separate flight plan, unknown to the others, and the routes aren’t direct, so even if we’re followed, it won’t be obvious where we’re headed."
"I hear a ‘but’ coming."
Micah laid a hand on a Q’Roth control panel. "The threat won’t come from the Q’Roth. They’ve fed, why should they care if a few of us escape? The Alicians, though, they will care. We’d be like poor relations to them – an embarrassment."
Blake pondered for a while. "Micah, you’re an analyst, so I want your prediction that they’ll come after us, and not give up till they find us. What are the odds?"
Micah matched Blake’s level gaze. "More than fifty per cent. We haven’t seen the last of them."
Blake nodded, heavily. "One more thing, Micah. I want you to work with me. I want you on my team."
Micah couldn’t speak for a moment. His mind flashed back to the poster of the four astronauts in his old office. "Of course, Sir. Er... Captain. What do I call you, actually?"
"You’re a civilian, so ‘Blake’ will do fine." His smile widened. "But then ‘Sir’ sounds fine, too, now that you mention it."
Five minutes later, Blake gave the final order, and four massive ships vanished from Eden’s surface, abandoning Eden and Earth, and the last struggling human survivors, soon to be eradicated. There had only been one logical direction for the four ship captains – Blake, Vince, Rashid and Jennifer: the spider world. Perhaps there they could learn more before they headed towards the Grid Society Kat had spoken of – going straight to the Grid itself might well be suicide, as that was almost certainly where the Alicians would be headed. The Hohash mirrors had conveyed to Kat that the Q’Roth were nomadic, and would continue out into the spiral reaches rather than back toward the Grid or the spider world.
He had given a rousing speech because it had been desperately necessary for morale, but he was a military commander and, like Micah, had grave doubts concerning their survival prospects, even in the first year. But he didn’t think he had lied – it was a beginning, another chance.
The air around him snapped into a silvery liquid, as one more thought lodged into his mind, hanging on a gossamer thread. Eden. Twice now mankind had fallen from Eden. Once by their own natures, and now tricked by others. He wondered if there was indeed a third chance, or if the real lesson was that there was no such place as Eden, and wanting it, dreaming of it, only made humans weaker. But even time-frozen in a mercurial sea, he could feel his wife Glenda’s hand in his – he’d reached out for her just as he’d given the command. For him at least, Eden was there in those two hands touching. So, while everyone else was just barely holding their breath, praying for the transit to end, Blake could have remained like that for a very long time.
***
Sister Esma looked up from the star charts laid before her. "I see you are up – is that wise? The genetic re-sequencing is quite fragile in the first few days. The cerebral DNA was barely sufficient. How much do you remember?"
"Everything. Absolutely everything. Anyway, I had to get up out of that ward – I never cared for hospitals – I died in one recently."
Sister Esma studied her protégé. The Q’Roth surgeon had said there might be side effects. "Some humans have gotten away," she said. "We did not predict that. The fighting on Eden was also unanticipated, though the Q’Roth losses were negligible. They are, after all, a collective species. The nourishment here on Earth has been very strong for them – the anxiety levels of the population were at fever pitch, making the bio-energy more powerful than they could have wished for."
There was no reply, despite a lengthy pause. Sister Esma continued. "We’re heading for the Outer Grid tomorrow. It will take more than thirty transits, and we need to recharge after each one, so it will take four weeks in total. We will be sponsored by the Q’Roth for Level Five status, and will be allowed limited Grid access. We will be given a new planet, and we will found a new civilization."
Still no reply. Sister Esma waited, patiently. Clearly something was troubling the younger one. Eventually, she spoke.
"What about those who… killed me. Did they escape?"
Sister Esma let out a short, single laugh.
"My dear Louise, you will live a thousand years. They are Level Three. They will not survive long. What does it matter? Billions have died here in the last four days."
"I understand that – and I am grateful that you regenerated me. It’s just – personal. They killed me. I would like to repay the experience. And if – I say only if – they somehow survived – they could become a nuisance to our new civilization."
Sister Esma stared out over the floor of the cavernous ship, housing the five hundred Inner Circle and another five thousand shortly to be genned, the next evolution of humanity that would amount to something significant, taking its rightful place amongst its galactic peers. She knew, however, that there was a possibility that Louise was right, even if her motivations were personal. But Louise’s judgment was clearly clouded – the genning hadn’t worked fully, or else hadn’t settled yet. Sister Esma knew what that meant, though she did not allow her face to betray her thoughts. "What do you propose?"
"That I take one of the long-range Q’Roth attack ships, and four nukes. One for each ship they stole."
"Alone?"
Louise’s lips broadened. "A small crew – a young man and woman should do."
"Very well. Pick two consorts and I will speak to them before you leave. The Q’Roth have given us four Hunter Class ships – you may take one. We will be able to track you and communicate between transits, unless you fall too far behind, and we will give you our flight plan." Sister Esma smiled, knowing the last part was a lie – it would be too risky. "You will have two weeks, three at most to rejoin us. Do not be late."
Louise nodded and left. Sister Esma watched her stride away. A shame. She made her decision in an instant, and called over one of her most trusted. "I want you to insert this into the engine core of the long range attack ship chosen by Louise."
The man looked at the glass phial she had handed him, and his brow furrowed.
"Nannites? But within a few weeks they will degrade the…" His words dried up under her arctic glare. "Of course, Excellency." He shuffled off.
She cast her gleaming, seven hundred-year old eyes over her people, the next generation of Humanity, the apogee of man’s intellectual abilities shorn of all weaknesses and social inhibitions. How wise they had been, all those centuries ago, to throw in their lot with the pure and vigorous Q’Roth, ascending the evolutionary ladder. Nothing could stop them now from assuming their rightful role in the galaxy, not as feeble, erratic human clowns, but as a new race of masterful Alicians.
Two Q’Roth joined her and gave her the news. She picked up a microphone. A shrill whine made all stop what they were doing and turn to their leader, flanked by the magnificent warriors.
"I have great news. Earth is finished, the old humanity is no more. Shortly, all life will be extinguished." Cheers erupted from all around her, and a chant began: "Alessia, Alessia…" She beamed, letting the mantra rise, then held up a hand.
"From this day on, we are all Alicians. This is our time. Prepare yourselves, we leave in one hour. The galaxy awaits us."
Chapter 50
Epilogue
The Ranger closed down his re
cording system. His hooked claw stroked his Bartran slave-mind’s back ridges. He watched Exa-Grid Spiral 4A Mono-System 82435 Sol 3 on the multi-view screen, all life eradicated. Species 195 Q’Roth had moved on. The Bartran purred.
This had been a routine covert inspection, following the filing of a complaint after a previous incursion. Species 195 had followed protocol, although they should have filed in advance for sponsoring a new species, and the atomic and nanotech capability of the indigenous species had not been entered on the original incursion manifest. The sponsored escapees would behave according to the dictates of their Q’Roth benefactors, but the other refugees were an unquantified variable.
His claw slid into a hole on the Bartran’s back, and the purring ceased instantly. He thought – encode message to Ranger Grid Sub-Commander 423. The Bartran’s mind became fluid, stretching across the galaxy. The Ranger began:
ENCODE: UNSPONSORED SPECIES: UNCONTAINED: GRIDBOUND: ORIGIN SPIRAL 4A: IDENT HUMAN: TRANSPORT SP195 SHIPS [4]: PREPARE COUNTER-MEASURES PROTOCOL 32E:
GSC 423 ACKNOWLEDGED – COUNTER-MEASURES INITIATED:
REQUEST INSTRUCTIONS:
…PURSUE:
The Ranger removed his claw, and tapped twice on the sticky console. His ship vanished.
The End
Upcoming from Ampichellis Ebooks: The Eden Trilogy
The Eden Paradox
Eden's Trial
Eden’s Revenge