All The Frail Futures: A Science Fiction Box Set

by J Battle

  Still, he’d always known that this moment was coming, and there was nothing else he could do, so he glided into the vertical glass tube, and felt the door slide shut behind him.

  He'd already pressed the red On button when it occurred to him that the ship had stopped calling him Mr. Thompson sometime after the completion of the security protocols. There was really only one possible reason for it to change to 'Sir'.

  'Sh...!'

  The word was truncated as the Zero Time Chamber was activated and, in that narrow tube, time stood still.

  **********

  The signal that Tryllis had found so appealing had not originated on Earth. In fact, no signals had been broadcast directly from Earth for many years, and that was hardly likely to change.

  The signal was broadcast from a planet orbiting Tau Ceti, at the very edge of the Solar Union's vestigial empire which included just the 12 systems so far, with a total of 40 planets and satellites having some sort of settlement.

  During their slow expansion across the local neighborhood of the Milky Way, humanity had not so far made any contact, or seen any evidence of alien intelligent life.

  There is a very good chance that this is all about to change.

  Tau Ceti E is a large, rocky planet, four times the mass of Earth and nearly twice the diameter. Its surface temperature at the equator reaches the low 60's C, so only the poles had been permanently occupied over the past 50 years or so by the tough, stubborn settlers who found the 40 degrees C temperatures and the 1.8 g gravity strangely to their liking.

  If there was one idea, one meme, that spanned the whole Union Empire, it was the sure knowledge that you should never pick a fight with a Taucee, as those tough settlers are named; it would always end in tears and broken bones, along with the extreme embarrassment of being taken apart by a man, woman, or child, who was never more than chest high.

  Of course, Tryllis knew nothing about this, and wouldn't have cared if he had. Any possibility of physical violence would be dealt with by his sub-dub without a second's hesitation.

  Although the smaller reptile possessed little in the way of offensive capabilities, he certainly knew how to take a blow and come back for more. It was one of his more endearing qualities.

  As he approached Tau Ceti E, Tryllis chewed on the thigh bone of an Idvack, and defecated extravagantly. He didn't need to instruct his sub-dub to clean up the mess as the stench threatened to permeate every cubic centimeter of the small patrol craft he had chosen to use in his investigation of the unknown planet.

  The craft was an elongated sphere, stealthed against visible and electronic detection, and it possessed more than enough fire power to defend itself if it became necessary.

  He flew low across the equator of the massive world, studying the sun blasted dull brown earth, heading towards the northern pole; the source of the original signal.

  Of course, once he knew the planet was there, he had been able to pick up and analyze a multitude of other broadcasts; few of which were as appealing or melodic as the original signal.

  Within a space of just a few hours, he had circumnavigated the world three times and collected most of the information he felt he would need to make his initial report when he returned to base. His AI was already working on a translation program, and he had a fair idea of their level of technology, but he had one more test to do before he left, just to check on their military capabilities.

  The missile he chose was the most basic weapon in his arsenal. It had no Plus Light Speed features, little in the way of evasive and tactical maneuvers, and the tiniest of payloads. It was virtually designed to do no harm.

  With the missile chugging slowly towards the planet's northern pole, Tryllis relaxed on his four support legs and waited to see what weapons would be used to destroy the ineffective piece of rubbish.

  He was more than a little surprised when there was no activity at all from the settlement below him as the missile approached its target.

  Perhaps their force-fields are so effective they can afford to ignore the assault, he thought.

  But there was no evidence of a force field at all, or of any anti- missile weapons.

  The flash of light and the column of dark, twisting smoke were a clear indication that this was indeed the perfect place to start the next phase of the Hru-argh Empire's expansion.

  Chapter 3

  He hadn’t run for an awfully long time; not since the first of his two heart transplants. But he broke into a long loping run when he realized that his beloved craft was about to be stolen. The flimsy looking stanchions had fallen away, leaving the craft proud and alone, vibrating slightly as its conventional engines powered up.

  A younger man could have made it easily, despite the heavy-duty exo-suit he was wearing. Even he might have reached the craft in time, if his third heart hadn’t given out under this final straw, piled on top of the immense strain of the past months. He gasped as his knees slowly caressed the hard ground, never taking his eyes off the smooth diamond shape before him. It was the last image he ever saw. He fell sideways, clutching at his chest through the dark blue fabric of his suit. It seemed to take an age for his body to settle gently against the smooth walkway. For a second, his body was rigid as it fought for life, then it relaxed and his hand fell away in his final defeat.

  A rush of steam washed over his corpse as Angel’s Kiss began her maiden flight, and the ground shook with the power of her eagerness to escape the fragile gravity of the little world.

  Then she was gone, silent in the light of Mars; a new star racing for eternity.

  **********

  Nigel couldn't believe that it was actually true; that after all these years, the old man was really dead.

  He searched inside himself for some sense of grief, or even regret. Maybe a touch of sorrow? Surely there was some sadness at the sudden death of his father? But his search was in vain. All he could really claim to feel was a little surprise that he had finally released his grip on life and that he wasn't actually immortal. Of course, there was also the will to consider.

  His younger sister, Moira, was showing somewhat exaggerated signs of remorse, with her quivering voice and moistened eyes, but Nigel wasn't buying it. She hated her father more than he did, he was sure, and this was all for show. Moira didn’t usually take much notice of the opinion of others; she was more a member of the 'Sod them all' school of thought and Nigel was sometimes a little envious of her ability to focus on satisfying herself at the expense of all others.

  Nigel draped one long arm across his sister's shoulders and hugged her closer. 'Bit heavy on the tears there, I think.' He said quietly.

  Moira swallowed dramatically and dabbed at her eyes with an actual hanky.

  'I was always his favorite, you know.' she said; her ability to dissemble impressing even her brother, 'we were so close,' she continued, her eyes flicking around to gauge the reaction to her words.

  Nigel guided her to a chair before she escalated to complete, unfettered hyperbole.

  It was a small room; just a small desk for the lawyer and a row of chairs for the hopeful mourners.

  'Shall we begin.' It was an instruction rather than a question, from the small, smartly dressed person behind the desk.

  Nigel listened to his words and felt his body temperature drop with each sentence. He found that he wasn't hearing everything the guy was saying; but he was getting the hi-lights. 'Regret' - that was fine and only to be expected. 'Thank you' - only fair. 'Debt' - where had that come from? 'Repossession' - that couldn't be right! 'Lapsed insurance' - never, not Dad! 'Here's my bill'- good luck with that, mate.

  Afterwards, Nigel and Moira had a few drinks in old man Thompson's favorite bar, The Hanging Participle, in Temporal Bay; Mars' largest city.

  'Well, that was a surprise,' Nigel suggested.

  'Well, that was a blow, you mean,' snapped Moira. She took a long pull on her Red River Spice bowl, the latest and most fashionable of drinks. Nigel slurped noisily at his long c
old pint of lager.

  'I guess it was the ship; that's where all his money went.'

  'Bloody thing! He bankrupted himself with it; and us,' Moira groaned, ‘and now it’s bloody gone!’

  'Where do you think it is now, our inheritance?'

  'Who knows? Who cares? We'll never see it again. Your round, I think.'

  ‘But I got the last…’ He gave up on a lost argument and called for another round.

  'We should do something about it, y'know?' Said Moira as the new drinks arrived.

  'What d'you mean?'

  'We should get it back.'

  'How do you think we can do that? It could be halfway out of the system by now.'

  'That needn't be an issue. If we get the ship back, we can clear Dad's debts and there will be a nice pot left over for us.'

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ Nigel said, quietly.

  There was a short pause between the siblings as they leant against the arti-wood bar.

  'We should kill him,' said Moira, out of the blue as she stared into the crimson liquid that swirled inside her glass.

  'Who?'

  'The guy who stole the ship, of course. It's only right; he killed our father. Eye for an eye, and all that. I could kill him; with a knife, up close and personal, and messy. It's only right. It's our duty, you know?'

  Nigel looked at his sister; he didn't like the sound of this.

  'Let's focus on what's important here, Moira. Get the ship back, and pass whoever it is on to the authorities. That's all we need to worry about.'

  Moira nodded. 'Yeah, get the ship back and I'll deal with him, don't you worry.'

  Nigel drained his drink and called for another. He'd need quite a few more before he would forget to worry.

  ‘Hey?’ said Moira, ‘what about Jimmy?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know; Jimmy. Rich Jimmy. Jimmy with the hair.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Jimmy. What about him?’ Asked Nigel, wondering if it was time to go.

  ‘He’s got a yacht.’

  ‘Very nice for him.’

  ‘No, bro; he’s got a yacht. Understand? He’s got a yacht and it’s won races and stuff.’

  ‘So he‘s got a… Oh, I see what you mean. But he doesn’t like you. I thought…’

  ‘No, he’s over that. We’re friends again; sort of.’

  ‘Weren’t they planning to get married? Jimmy and…what’s her name?’

  ‘No; yes, I mean they got married.’

  ‘Just not to each other.’ Nigel considered his empty glass. This was going to need another drink.

  ‘Call him, then.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘I will. Just got to prepare myself.’

  Nigel shook his head. ‘I‘ve got to hear this. How you convince Tight Jimmy; Jimmy the Meanster; Careful Jimmy; Pass on the Other Side of the Road Jimmy, to let you have his ship for nothing for however many decades it will take to catch up with Dad’s ship. It’s going to be something special. Off you go, then, Sis.’

  ‘You don’t think I can do it? You don’t think I can get him to make such a sacrifice? After all we meant to each other?’

  ‘After all you put him through?’

  She snorted. ‘Watch and weep big brother; watch and weep.’

  ‘You’ve not called him yet.’

  ‘I know, and I‘m not going to. This has to be done face to face, and I know where he’ll be at this time of night.’

  ‘Where? You’re not just putting this off?’

  ‘He’ll be in Direction; he loves that shit.’

  ‘No! We’re not going to Take One Direction Zone. We might be spotted; it’s so tacky.’

  ‘All the girls love it; they'll be packed six deep. You know you like a challenge.’

  ‘I can’t pull tonight. This is our dad’s wake; have some respect.’

  Moira held up her Green Mind Number Classic.

  ‘To the Old Man,’ she slurred slightly, ‘I hated his guts.’

  ‘His guts,‘ Nigel clinked his glass against Moira’s.

  Chapter 4

  The first thing Jimmy did when he awoke was regret his precipitous return to consciousness; then he chastised himself for his rash behavior in waking up without due consideration of all of the alternatives available to him. Satisfied with what had to be a full morning’s work, he fell back to sleep.

  Minutes, or years later, he opened one eye just long enough to realize that there was all-together too much light in the room, and it really shouldn’t be spinning quite so much.

  It took him an age to recover enough to sit up and take a good look at his surroundings. An economy hotel he thought; no more than 100 credits per night, if he was lucky. Then he noticed that he had company; the Thompson brother was sprawled across the room’s single armchair in a most un-gentlemanly way, with his sister stretched out across the floor.

  He nodded to himself when he saw her, then he smiled. He knew that he was over her completely now as his first thought when he saw her was, we can split the bill three ways.

  Still, she did look good; with her face all relaxed in sleep, without the attitude and frown that was her normal defense against the worst the universe could do to her.

  A scene from the previous night flashed into his mind. The final band had completed their lip-synching, over-choreographed but enthusiastic performance, and Nigel had bought him another drink (that was the fifth drink he’d been bought and he’d only had to buy two drinks back) and he himself was admitting to the penury that had crashed into his life like a testosterone fuelled bovine male in the workplace of a purveyor of fragile eating-ware.

  Jimmy climbed from the bed and made his unsteady way to the bathroom. He ignored his bleary eyes and saggy face; his only concern was for his hair.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. His 48 hour gel was true to its adverts and his hair was still in perfect condition, with every hair standing upright and proud; 10 centimeters long and forming a black glistening helmet that made him seem really quite tall.

  ‘That’s OK then,’ he muttered to himself as he walked back into the bedroom.

  The sight of the siblings brought the previous night back to him in a flash of technicolor.

  'How did it happen?' Nigel had asked as he handed him a drink.

  'My Dad had so much invested on Earth; when things crashed there, it was only a matter of time before he got dragged down as well. It's a miracle he lasted as long as he did.'

  'So you're broke?' Asked Moira, as if she hadn't being following the conversation.

  'That's about the size of it.'

  'You haven't got your yacht, then?'

  'No.'

  'Damn! Damn! Damn!'

  'She was hoping...we were hoping that we could use your yacht to get our dad's ship back,' said Nigel over the beat of his sister's 'damns.'

  'What about the Solar System Law Enforcement Patrol?'

  'They say that he'll be outside the system before they could catch him, so it should be the Empire Peace Force who deal with him.'

  'What do they say?'

  'They are quite prepared to go after him, as long as the SSLEP covers the costs. But they are going to charge more than the ship is worth, so the SSLEP won't pay, and of course we can't pay, and now we find that you haven't got your yacht, so we can't go after him ourselves...' Nigel stopped talking as he'd run out of things to say, and the breath to say them.

  'It's not just the ship,' muttered Moira, morosely,' he killed our dad. He has to pay for that.'

  Jimmy glanced from one to another, unsure what to say.

  When he did speak, it was hard to say who of the small group was most surprised.

  'Who said I haven't got my yacht?' he said. He hadn’t realized he was going to say that; he covered his mouth with one hand to prevent any further unexpected and reckless utterances.

  'You did,' replied Nigel helpfully.

  'No I didn't. I said 'no' to Moira when she said I didn't have
my ship. That means yes, I do have my ship.' A strange idea was beginning to build, somewhere dark and mysterious in the middle of his brain.

  'No, it doesn't,' insisted Moira, 'I said, 'so you don't have your ship' and you said, 'no' as in 'no, I don't have my ship.' She nodded, as if the argument was obviously won.

  'If I was agreeing with you, I would have said, 'yes, you're right, I don't have my yacht.'

  'But...'

  'I think we're missing the important point here, guys,' Nigel interrupted,' Jimmy has his yacht, and I think the fact that he is telling us about it means he might help us. Am I right, Jimmy?'

  'Don't know about that.'

  Now, in the clear, if a little blurred, light of day, Jimmy took a moment to reconsider his impetuous decision to help them.

  He had kept the ship a secret for months, and now the secret was out. When the money-men had come for his belongings, chattels and domiciles, he let them have everything they could see. But the yacht was hidden in a storage chamber on Deimos, hired under the name of a friend, and he wasn't going to let them get their sticky fingers on it. After all, it had been a 21st birthday present from his dad, in the days when such extravagancies were commonplace.

  'Where is your Mark III Horizon- Eater?' The money-men had demanded, seeming to speak in syncopated unison.

  'I sent it into the heart of the sun, so you couldn't get it.' He showed them the recording of the ship's final flight and conflagration (carefully mocked up by another friend). They didn't believe him, but what could they do about it?

  Last night the idea of flying off on a foolish adventure with Nigel and Moira had sounded like a good idea. Now, sober(ish) and rational(ish), it seemed like a bloody great idea.

  He had no money and no job, and very little prospect of obtaining either. And, of course, there was Maggie. Beautiful, wonderful, witty, spiteful, vicious, evil, blood sucking… He could go on, but why waste the whole day on her good points?