Fallen Metropolis (Omnibus Edition)

by Matthew J. Barbeler

  The ship was the Icarus, a strike-class recon ship helmed by Captain Draco Goldwing. He was a bona fide war hero. Ross’s father told stories about Captain Goldwing to him when he was a little kid. His heroic exploits were legendary, as was his dishonorable discharge from the military for killing his own superior officer.

  Rumors were that Captain Goldwing was still working for the Alliance, but in a strictly non-official capacity. That rumor held true with their current location. The Alliance couldn’t run any official military operations in the Arcturus Sector without violating the Vartalen ceasefire.

  Ross attempted to open a comm channel with the Icarus, but all external comm channels were disabled. There was no way to warn them of them danger aboard the ship. But perhaps that was for the best. If he could control the crew of the Icarus, he could make sure the engines came back online. Ross would keep them out of trouble while they remained compliant. After that, they were expendable.

  The proximity detector showed a shuttle launching from the Icarus. It tracked the small craft on its trajectory toward the Metropolis Seven. The crew of the Icarus approached the loading dock.

  Ross went through the surveillance network and found a safe route from the loading dock to the engine bay. If Draco followed his orders, everything would be just fine. If not, then he would make them learn the price for disobedience the hard way.

  Book Three

  The Traveler

  Maximillian Mortimer looked over the placement of the food on his dining room table. He had agonized over the food choices for months. A vast array of fresh fruits from across the globe had been flown in to create an incredible fruit platter. Pedestrian items like apples, grapes and bananas were interspersed with more rare, unique specimens such as the chocolate-like cupuaçu, grilled jackfruit, and sliced starfruit.

  Another platter was piled with pastries. Croissants, donuts, cronuts, brioche rolls, and more. Nearby was an array of different types of chocolates. White chocolate dipped raspberries, bitter dark chocolate buttons, and a variety of 21st century chocolate bars.

  An assortment of meats had been arranged at the end of the table. A basket of southern fried chicken sat next to a platter of barbecued meat. Sausage links, char-grilled sirloin steak, slow-cooked pulled pork and lamb cutlets. Then there was a tray heaped with racks of pork ribs, with necessary napkins.

  Maximillian’s chefs had outdone themselves.

  In the center of the table were three pots of brewed coffee. Coffee, it was said, was the crowning achievement of human civilization. How sad a future it would be if coffee no longer existed.

  Maximillian had no idea how many people would show up for his party. No-one would know about its existence until three days from now. The advertising was extensive and exorbitantly expensive. An entire media blitz would occur. Of his billions of dollars, this experiment had cost Maximillian a few paltry million. He wouldn’t miss it, even if the experiment failed.

  He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes until the party was due to start. The party that no-one knew about. His aim was to prove without a doubt whether time travel was possible. As one of the planet’s most influential people, he was sure that he would go down in the history books as someone of importance. A hero.

  Maximillian made his fortune in the early Dot-Com boom, and before that bubble burst, he’d invested in the future of humanity; clean energy research firms and sustainable farming technology. With the world’s population set to explode during his lifetime, there were three things that would always be necessary: Energy, food and water.

  His investments were not always altruistic. Some avenues of research would not bring financial returns. Their positive societal impacts were unquestionable, but they would never make money. So, he financed up and coming companies who promised to be profitable, purely to funnel those profits into other projects which were working for the good of humankind.

  For the future of planet Earth.

  Maximillian didn’t like the aesthetic composition of how the meat looked on the table. He moved the fried chicken closer to the racks of pork ribs, then moved the tray of barbecued meats more to the side, so it lay perpendicular to ribs. He glanced at his watch again.

  It was eleven o’clock.

  The time had arrived.

  If time travelers existed, surely they would be punctual. Maximillian watched the minutes tick by. With each passing second, his mood darkened. The money he’d already paid for the advertising was non-refundable. He abhorred waste.

  Eleven o’clock came and went. Maximillian poured himself a coffee, scooped two teaspoons of sugar into it, then stirred. He pulled out a chair and sat, his back to the front door. He drank the entire cup in four long swallows.

  Then came the knock at the door.

  Time dilated as those sharp taps echoed through the entryway. Maximillian became acutely aware of the quickening pace of his heart. The skin on the back of his neck prickled. The guests were late, but he had been right!

  Time travel was possible.

  Maximillian straightened his tie, royal purple against the black shirt beneath. He strode towards the front door, grasped the handle, and opened it.

  The man that stood before him did not quite appear as Maximillian had expected. He looked to be in his early twenties. He was tall, and fit, with a short black beard. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail. He wore a simple black t-shirt and dirty, frayed blue jeans, cinched at his waist with a battered leather belt. He wore a watch on his left wrist; a simple timepiece that appeared to have originated in this time period, with a cracked face.

  Maximillian deflated.

  "Can I help you?" he asked.

  "Am I late for the party?" the man asked with a wry smile.

  "I'd say you're just on time," Maximillian replied.

  Maximillian led the time traveler into the dining room. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but there was one that burned hotter than the others.

  "So, are there any more of you coming?" Maximillian asked.

  "Just me, I'm afraid."

  "That’s a tad disappointing. May I ask why?"

  "This party goes down in the history books as a complete and utter failure. No-one shows up, aside from me, a homeless young man searching for his next meal. Because your party is a bust, and someone shows up to your door anyway, you decide to feed him. Don't worry, the story goes very well for you. It really does help with your billionaire everyman good-guy image."

  The traveler turned away from the food and spread his hands out in front of him, as though displaying a banner.

  "The million-dollar lunch. Do-gooder billionaire feeds the homeless after his time travel experiment fails spectacularly."

  The traveler turned back towards the table and inspected the food on offer. He chuckled to himself.

  "What's so funny?" Maximillian asked.

  "We still have fruit in the future, you know. And we still eat meat. We got the whole galaxy hooked on coffee, too."

  "The whole galaxy?" Maximillian asked. The ramifications of that simple, off-hand comment made his head swim.

  The traveler turned back towards Maximillian. "Sit down before you fall down."

  Maximillian walked towards the table, pulled a chair out, and almost fell into it. The traveler walked around the table, smiling quietly to himself as he heaped his plate with food. He poured two cups of brewed coffee.

  "Cream and sugar?" the traveler asked.

  "Black and two."

  The traveler obliged, then passed the coffee across the table.

  Maximillian took it and watched the traveler closely as he popped a grape into his mouth and chewed.

  "I bet you were thinking that in the future, we all subsist on various kinds of protein bars. Everything made from beans and shit, right?" the traveler asked.

  "I didn't know. I made some assumptions," Maximillian admitted.

  "I'll admit that most people from my time live on meat alternatives. We grow meat instead of harvest it from
animals. No brain. No consciousness. No pointless killing required. But some people still like to hunt, and now there’s a whole galaxy full of primordial planets full of beasts for those thrill-seekers to hunt."

  Maximillian shook his head. "Fruit? Vegetables?"

  "We still have fruit and vegetables. Of course, we do. Lots more varieties, though."

  "From other planets?" Maximillian hazarded a guess.

  The traveler smiled.

  "So, what, you can't actually tell me?"

  The traveler laughed, loud and unrestrained. "I can tell you..."

  "But you'd have to kill me?" Maximillian asked.

  "No, it's just too much fun messing with you," the traveler admitted.

  "You shit!" Maximillian said, incredulous.

  "I'm not here for pleasantries though. We have a lot to discuss," the traveler said.

  "Of course."

  "First thing's first; regardless of how you feel at the end of this, you need to ensure that your advertising goes ahead. You are to do every interview that is requested of you, and in each of those interviews you are to express your frustration that the only person who showed up was a homeless youth, who you decided to have lunch with."

  Maximillian nodded.

  “People don't want the truth, Max. I can call you Max, right?"

  Maximillian shrugged. He didn't care one way or the other.

  "The truth has a habit of terrifying people. The world isn't ready for the knowledge that time travel is possible. Hell, the future I'm from isn't even ready for it to be general knowledge. We act in secret."

  "Where are you from, exactly?"

  "Where, or when?"

  "Both, I guess," Maximillian said.

  "I'm from the Agency," the traveler said.

  "Which agency?"

  "The Agency," the traveler replied, as though the emphasis communicated a deeper meaning that Maximillian should recognize.

  "I don’t follow."

  “That’s fine. Let me ask you a question. Where do you see humanity ending up in the next five hundred years?”

  Maximillian paused to consider the question. “I want to see humanity band together. I want to see the end to bloodshed over resources, and over competing political and religious ideologies. I want humanity to be united, and at peace.”

  “I didn’t ask you what you wanted,” the traveler said. “I asked where you saw humanity ending up.”

  Maximillian exhaled through his nose. “If we keep polluting our planet the way we are, we won’t just kill all the other species that call it home. We’ll destroy ourselves. If we keep fighting and dying over money, there is no happy ending.”

  “But it’s necessary,” the traveler said.

  Shocked, Maximillian’s jaw dropped. “What the hell do you mean?”

  “People don’t thrive in peace,” the traveler said. “They don’t make technological leaps and bounds when their families are safe and sound at home. Not when they have all the time in the world. Humanity thrives under pressure. It is when we are cornered that we are our most powerful, our most imaginative, and our most inventive.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “It’s our destiny to destroy this planet. Everything you have spent your life dedicated to up until this point hasn’t been a waste, though. Clean energy is a worthwhile pursuit, but the destruction of our genesis planet is necessary. When faced with our own extinction, it is the fuel that burns away in the heart of humanity that gives us the push to do the things we need to do to join the galactic community. We just need you to refocus your resources.”

  Maximillian stared into the black depths of the coffee cradled in his hands. This planet, the birthplace of humanity, was destined to be destroyed? No. It couldn’t be. He’d spent his life investing in technologies that could help people and repair the damage done to this planet.

  He glanced up at the traveler, who was studying Maximillian’s face intently.

  “You don’t believe me,” the traveler said.

  “I don’t know what I believe. How can the destruction of a planet be necessary? Isn’t there some other option?”

  The traveler withdrew a device from his pocket and set it on the table. It looked like an ordinary cell phone, albeit a nondescript brand. The display lit up, then projected an image of a slowly rotating galaxy above the surface of the table.

  The traveler touched the display, which reacted to his touch as though it had physical presence.

  “This is where Earth currently is. This outer spiral arm, here,” the traveler said. The display zoomed into a planet covered in storms. Small sections of blue and brown appeared between the clouds, but they were few and far between. The planet was smothered. “Our new homes are spread across the Milky Way Galaxy.”

  The traveler zoomed out and highlighted three planets. They had names. The first was called New Earth. The second, Central, and the third, Orpheon.

  “New Earth?” Maximillian asked.

  “That’s it. That’s home,” the traveler said. “Over 23 billion humans live on New Earth, and it truly is a paradise. We’ve learned from our mistakes, and the renewable energy tech developed by Mortimer Industries is what allows us to get there. Then, once we’re there, it lets us survive and thrive. You might be tempted to pull the plug on your arc reactor project. I believe it has stalled for the last few years?”

  “It has,” Maximillian admitted. No-one external to the project was supposed to know any of the details.

  “There will come a time soon when the pieces will all fit together. Don’t despair. Keep funding the project, even when it feels like you’re just throwing your money into a black hole. But there is one thing you need to stop immediately.”

  “Go on.”

  “Your feud with dirty energy companies needs to stop. You are to cease any further legal action against them. They serve a function in these last days of planet Earth. They are the catalyst that brings us to the brink of destruction. You need to let them.”

  “I couldn’t. Not in good conscience. My shareholders-”

  “Our future is not here in the dirt, Max. Our future is out there.” The traveler motioned above, to the sky beyond the ceiling. “Our future is in the stars. The only way humanity will grow wings is if it is pushed out of the nest, and the only way to do that is the destroy the nest. We will not leave it willingly.”

  Maximillian exhaled. “You don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”

  “I know exactly what I’m asking you to do. I know how hard it is, but you also don’t have a choice. Not if you care about the future of humanity. The stars call us. That’s what you need to focus on. Look beyond the blue horizon and into the stars. Your name, your legacy, will live forever.”

  The traveler retrieved the device from the table and turned off the floating display. He stood, sucked down the last dregs of his coffee, then headed towards the front door.

  “That’s it?” Maximillian called after the traveler.

  “That’s it. This homeless young man thanks you for your hospitality.”

  Maximillian took a sip of his coffee, placed it roughly on the table and headed after the traveler. He stood in the doorway, one hand clutching the frame. He called after him.

  “What’s your name?” Maximillian shouted after him.

  The traveler stopped on the paved walkway, hands in his pockets. He turned back towards Maximillian, then grinned. “The name’s Jaxon. And I know you’ll make the right choice.”

  “You are asking me to destroy this planet! How do you know I will do it?”

  “I wouldn’t exist, otherwise.”

  Jaxon pressed a button on the side of his watch’s face. There was a bright flash of light, then he was gone. A dark smear on the paved walkway was the only evidence he had ever been there.

  Maximillian closed the front door and headed to his study. He had some calls to make.

  A Word from The Author

  Thank you so much for reading the Fallen M
etropolis Omnibus!

  I tell you what, it’s been a bit of a trip revisiting the world of Draco Goldwing and the crew of the Icarus. It feels like a lifetime ago that I started writing about these guys. These two stories were originally published under the pseudonym Matthew J. Hellscream as two individual books and a short story: Metro 7, The Fall of Metropolis Seven, and The Traveler which originally appeared in a Futurevision anthology.

  The response to all of these stories was just amazing, but things happened in my life that made it really hard to revisit this universe. Time passed, and wounds healed, like they always do. I thought this was the best opportunity to relaunch both books.

  I’m going to be honest with you all – when I first wrote Metro 7, I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. All I really knew was that I had a story that I wanted to tell, and that I’d figure out a way to make it work. I had no idea what third-person omniscient and third-person close perspective meant when I first wrote Metro 7, and it shows. The disjointed and head-hoppy action of the original makes my head spin even now.

  With this remastered version I tried to retain all of the charm that made the original work so well, while also filing off all the bumps and jags that knocked people out of the story wondering just what the fuck this dickhead amateur was thinking when he wrote this shit.

  I also injected a couple of little changes to align this book with where I want the series to go. I would love to write more in this universe, but to do that I need your help.

  Spreading the word about this book by sharing a review on Amazon or Goodreads and letting all your other SciFi-Horror-loving friends know about it can help me fund the next book. I would also love to convert these stories into an audiobook, which is dependent on having an audience who wants them.

  I’m not on all the social media platforms, but you can find me on a few. I’d love to hear from you, even just to say g’day.