Trinity's Fall

by P A Vasey

  Cain cleared his throat. “But Adam, would you, in fact, die? Perhaps you would just continue in this new timeline, here in this galaxy, as the old timeline reboots back on Earth. Parallel existences, never to intersect. Humanity continues on Earth, without any knowledge of these events. Meantime, you initiate a new era for Humanity 2.0, here on this planet.”

  Adam’s head dropped. “I am being selfish. In truth, my death would be the sacrifice that would save humanity. I tried to do this once, and failed. Surely this second chance is a sign that it was meant to be.”

  “On the other hand, maybe we all just disappear in the future, if we significantly alter the past,” said Stillman. “Like in Back to the Future.”

  “None of us really know what will happen,” said Cain. “So the most sensible option is to do nothing. Allow the Vu-Hak to develop normally …”

  “What?!” I burst out. “You can’t be serious.”

  Hamilton was also looking puzzled, but for a different reason. “Isn’t this just the same ethical dilemma as ‘would we kill baby Hitler if we knew at the time what adult Hitler was going to unleash on the world’?”

  Cain shook his head. “No, I am not talking about ethics. I am merely saying that from a purely practical perspective, leaving the Vu-Hak alone to develop normally is the most sensible course of action.”

  I gave him a look of disbelief. “This is a chance to prevent trillions of deaths.”

  “I have an alternative suggestion,” Adam said.

  He got up and walked to the far wall where there was a holographic representation of the ship, standing like a gigantic black graphite spear on the beach. He waved at it and the image blurred and reconfigured into a schematic of this solar system. The twin suns were pictured much closer than reality allowed, and the planets’ orbits were outlined in various glowing colors of the spectrum. One of the gas giant’s moons was tagged with Vu-Hak symbols indicating where we were. With another flick of his hand the image pulled back and zoomed out into the interstellar void. After a rollercoaster ride through space the image converged on a nearby star system where a solitary yellow G-type star burned brightly.

  “We take the ship and go there,” he said, pointing at the hologram. “I have already identified three exoplanets orbiting within the habitable zone of this star. It is actually the nearest star to us.”

  Stillman walked over and stared at the image, her arms folded. “Near is relative, right? How far away are we talking?”

  “Approximately twenty-five trillion miles,” he replied calmly. “Or four point two light years.”

  Hamilton lifted his head. “So okay, we just conjure up a new wormhole?”

  “That is not feasible,” said Cain, shaking his head. “I have been running further simulations. The problem with any new wormhole is our inability to map and delineate the destination co-ordinates. We could only safely perform multiple short distance transits, perhaps 1AU, at maximum.”

  “Can’t we just return home, go ‘back to the future’?” said Stillman, sticking with her previous analogy.

  “We cannot artificially travel forward in this timeline. The Trinity-generated wormhole was irreversibly damaged by the interaction with the Vu-Hak’s gravitational waves.”

  My head was spinning with the options we were discussing. “Have you any idea how long it would take this ship to travel to that star system?”

  Adam waved at the hologram and a computer-generated image appeared of the ship taking off and accelerating out of the Vu-Hak system and into the void. “This ship can accelerate continuously at approximately 1G and attain point nine eight the speed of light. It would reach this maximum velocity in just under a year. There would be a further two years’ cruise at this velocity, then another year to slow down. So approximately five and a half years total travel time.”

  “Shit,” said Hamilton, reaching for the bourbon.

  “You would be in cryosleep,” said Adam. “And wake up in a new world.”

  “I still don’t get why you want us to leave, only to travel a few light years,” I muttered.

  Cain moved over to join us and leaned in, looking at the images.

  “There is one obvious reason. By the time the Vu-Hak are evolved enough to leave their own planet, Humanity 2.0 will already be many thousands of years more advanced. The Vu-Hak will not be a threat to them, or any other race.”

  I regarded Cain, trying to see into his mind, figure out where he was coming from. He seemed to be pushing a non-interventionist position harder than I expected.

  “And of course it is also true that if we stay here, we will be in a position to control their development,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “The Vu-Hak data banks give details for the construction of atmosphere processing plants, which would be able to transform both the atmosphere and the ecosystem of this planet to a more habitable one.”

  Before I could say anything, Stillman spoke up, clearly still mulling over the thought of a long space voyage. “What if none of those planets are suitable for human life despite our ability to ‘fine tune’ their ecosystems? Do we then jump back on the ship and head for the next star? What if that star is hundreds of light years away? Do we keep running and searching for ever?”

  Adam’s lip twitched. “Humanity 2.0 – as Cain so quaintly put it – will not require the same Earth-like environment to survive and flourish. With epigenetic modifications Humanity 2.0 can be made stronger and more robust, more able to adapt to adverse environments, more resistant to diseases and infections, and to be able to breathe in a variety of non-Earth-like atmospheres. In essence, a true post-human existence.”

  There was a particularly loud crack of thunder outside, and lightning seemed to rattle the windshield. Stillman wandered over to us and peered out, putting her hand up and wiping the shield’s surface where a light mist had started to coat it. The clouds in the distance looked to be clearing and the gas giant’s shape was emerging behind, occupying about half of the night sky.

  “We’re safe here,” she said without turning. “I vote to stay. Hunt down and kill the progenitors of the Vu-Hak, and start the process of growing the embryos.”

  Cain was having none of it. “Genocide makes you no better than the Vu-Hak.”

  Adam nodded. “And we have a chance to begin again on a new world –”

  “This is a new world,” insisted Stillman.

  I was about to reply when the wall behind us shimmered out of existence and became a doorway. Amy ran through, breathless and wide-eyed. She was wearing one of the grey rubbery suits and her black hair was tied back in braids. She ran straight up to Adam and grabbed his hand, pulling him and ignoring the rest of us. “You need to come, now!” she said in between lungfuls of air.

  “Amy, what is it?” I said.

  She glanced up at me and shrank back toward Adam, unease and suspicion written all over her face. Then she pointed toward the doorway. “Mr Hubert has woken up. And I don’t like him.”

  EPILOGUE

  The old woman got up from a rocking chair older than herself, stood tall and slim, her grey hair neatly tied back and styled with old-fashioned rollers, and squinted into the distance. The countryside stretched before her like a great quilt of brown and green squares, held together by the green sutures of hedgerows. The odd farmhouse or barn separated the fields and a single country lane meandered peacefully through.

  She blinked, and there was smoke on the horizon, and a ghastly orange rictus smile tore through the verdant woodland. Unfettered flames blew up, hungrily devouring, lapping up, dancing and infesting everything that seemed good and right.

  She blinked again and saw blackened bodies, charred bones, as fire tainted the earth, stripping trees of their virescent beauty, leaving gaunt skeletal grey remains, bony toes rooted to barren soil.

  The sound of a child screaming emerged from the backdrop of a bustling city. At first it was distant, but it came steadily closer and all the while becoming more intense, more distressed.

>   She closed her eyes and tried to remember what the woman had said. Something she had to forget. Something so important that it could never be remembered. Something that happened a long time ago.

  She seemed such a nice lady. She tried to picture her once more.

  Average height, pale skin, shaved skull, angular features … and the most incredible glowing green eyes.

  There was recognition there, but just out of reach.

  Then she was gently turned by kind hands and led back into the house, the air too smoky to breathe, soon hot enough to scorch the skin. She sat on her bed, in the dark, gas mask on her face, listening to the flames devouring all that she had built, everything she had known.

  Then she heard it coming, the soft patter of its footsteps like a damning whisper. Her eyes widened, and her breaths came ragged and short. Her legs were frozen in place and she felt sweat drench her skin, her heart thumping against her chest.

  At first the shadow was no more than a chill in the air, a shimmer of mist, diffuse. Through it the furniture and the wallpaper that peeled with the smoke became slightly out of focus, like a poorly taken photograph.

  Then it was no more than a distortion of the light, a human shape cut out of colors that weren’t right. Where it moved the things behind it appeared bowed, as if looked at through a fish-eye lens. Then as quickly as it came, it left, without leaving so much as a footprint in the fall mud.

  The woman managed to stand up and ran her hands through her hair. She lowered the mask and gave a rasping cough that caused her trachea to burn as if she’d swallowed razor blades. She reached for the glass of water on the bedside and brought it to her lips.

  The shadow returned, and this time stared into her eyes, its face passive and slack. The clock on the wall ceased to tick and there was no sound from the outside world, not a bird or engine noise.

  The air shattered with a scream that was so piercing that she collapsed to the floor in a fetal position, hands clamped over her ears. The atmosphere became cold and her body heat quickly deserted her, leaking from every pore. Awareness crept over her that she was no longer in contact with the ground but instead spinning.

  When she opened her eyes, the room was no longer there; instead there was only the shadow’s face and open mouth, magnified. In utter paralysis she was drawn toward it.

  Then she remembered what she had been told to forget.

  And it all came rushing back.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  P.A. Vasey is a Medical Oncologist (Cancer Physician), born in Newcastle, UK. His professional writing credits include over 200 publications including peer-reviewed journals, book chapters, conference contributions and electronic outputs in the field of cancer research. He moved to Australia in 2004, and lives in Brisbane, Queensland with his wife, two daughters, dog and cat.

  ‘TRINITY’S FALL’ is the sequel to the #1 Amazon Best Seller ‘TRINITY’S LEGACY’, which was his debut novel and an official semi-finalist for the 2018 Cygnus Book Awards for Science Fiction, a division of the Chanticleer International Book Awards.

  The saga will conclude in 2020 with the release of the final novel:

  ‘TRINITY: EVOLUTION’.

  You can stay in touch with P.A.Vasey for news and updates at -

  Website: http://www.pavasey.com

  Facebook: facebook.com/PA Vasey

  Twitter: @pavasey