The Decade Worlds

by Patrick McClafferty

  It had all started in Iraq, he mused, on another hot dusty day in the streets of Karabila, in what the historians were then calling the Third Iraq war, although it was more a continuation of the second. The image of a dour-faced Corporal Jacques Desjardin, now deceased, flashed through his mind. The corporal had been his teammate… and his friend.

  The First war with Saddam had been fairly straightforward, if interminable. Years later, when the Americans returned in force to battle with the ISIS terrorists and then later with the SIN militants, things began to get murky. As far as Gareth could tell, there were no winners to the endless wars except the arms merchants. He remembered that the empty, broken windows of the shops had stared like sightless eyes at the bloodstained, abandoned buildings all around them.

  It was in the cellar of a bombed-out mosque that he found an ancient scroll containing the image of a medallion. Wounded the very next day, Gareth soon found himself discharged and dumped on the streets of the United States, along with innumerable other disabled vets. One thing led to another, and the image of the scroll became a tattoo on Gareth’s chest, over his heart, unwittingly binding him to a being he’d only heard of in fairy tales, a being that had been around the world since life first crawled out of the steaming seas… Athena.

  Things in the United States went downhill quickly for Gareth Köhler; with the loss of his leg, and eye in the war, and even his disability income to a greedy ex-wife. When the trusty Colt 1911 failed to fire and take his life, Gareth had nothing left to do but to try death by drowning. Three years later he was still unsure as to whether he’d succeeded or not. Whatever the case, he’d stepped out of the water and onto a beach on Eldenworld, healed of all his old war wounds, and totally without a clue. The whos and whys came to him over time, as well as his new mission of saving a world. He chuckled dryly as he recalled the various creatures that had attempted to have him for lunch as he fought his way around the wide world. Some had nearly succeeded. His gaze was drawn back to the starry vista seen through the glass wall, and his mind, unbidden, continued the story. He never realized when he took the job that Eldenworld was actually the future Earth, and couldn’t in his wildest nightmare, imagine that saving the world would involve his blowing up Earth’s moon. If he had known before-hand, it might have made a difference in his accepting the job… or not.

  If he had known that he was, in reality, being recruited by a noncorporeal, multi-dimensional being that was going by the name of Athena, he might have chosen death over a questionable life… or not. Although he didn’t want to admit it, when he added all the plusses and all the minuses, he always came out on the winning side of the equation. He was still alive, he was healed of his injuries, he had a wonderful wife and an adopted daughter who loved him. On the minus side, he had to save every man, woman, dragon, shapeshifter, every member of several truly alien species, and every dolphin and whale on the planet from impending disaster, and he had no idea in hell how to go about it. He chuckled aloud as the phrase, suck it up, ran through his mind.

  The transparent sausage met them in front of their room at noon the next day and Gareth, with Chiu on his arm and dressed in new clothes compliments of Ell’s drones, wiggled into the front seat of the small conveyance. When a three-point racing harness automatically buckled Gareth into his seat he frowned. Behind him he heard Chiu give a small squeak of surprise as her own belt strapped her into place. The sausage launched down the hallway like a bullet from the barrel of a gun. In the ten minutes it took them to reach the steel gateway outside the great dome of The Yeugate, the conveyance rarely went slower than one hundred kph. Gareth touched Chiu’s arm, and she opened her eyes.

  “Are we there yet?” She asked in a shaky voice. Her face was pale green.

  “I’d say yes.” Gareth replied with a grimace, helping her to her feet. “Although my stomach is back at the fourth corner.”

  Chiu winced. “Was that the one where we went up on our side, and I could feel the wind screaming by my face?”

  “That’s the one.” He replied without emotion.

  The gateway arched gracefully sixty meters above their heads, and to either side. At the edge of the entrance stood a low control console covered with a clear half-dome for the operator to stand under in the event of inclement weather. A shining metal ramp led up to the gateway, stopping abruptly as it reached the edge of the gate.

  “This looks like it could handle thousands of arrivals and departures.” Gareth said softly.

  “Actually,” Ell replied from what sounded like a speaker in the console, “there were only departures. There have never been any arrivals.”

  “How do you know the system works then?” He asked, feeling confused.

  “Oh, technicians did two way tests when the gates were set up. People went out and came back from all ten of the Decade Worlds in preliminary runs. When the evacuations started, however, nobody returned. It is all very curious. All they had to do was to tell the gate to take them home.” Gareth didn’t mention that he could think of a couple of things that would prevent someone from returning, or even from calling for help, like the crushing pressure beneath an ocean, or a lake of boiling lava. “All ten worlds were tested to be habitable, if not ideal for humans.” The AI continued as if reading his mind.

  “The problem might have been that they left all the pioneers on the Earth.” Gareth offered. “Survival is a mindset, not just a document an engineer prints out, and a thousand different things can kill a budding society if the residents aren’t tough or resilient enough.” Gareth swept the gateway with a speculative look on his face that Chiu noticed immediately.

  “What are you up to Gareth?” Her voice was flat.

  He crossed his arms and stared at the gateway. “I think that I have to go through there.” He nodded to the shining arch.

  “Not alone you don’t.” Chiu growled, glaring at her husband. “It’s too dangerous.”

  Gareth sighed. “It’s for that very reason that I have to go alone. I don’t want to die, but if I do you and Lyndra and my daughter have to be able to follow in my footsteps. If I find a habitable world we can send people to, then we can save the people of this world. I’ll set up a deadman switch that will bring me home if I release it. Even if I’m injured Athena can patch me up.” I hope. He thought to himself. “Now I think that we should head for Puasheehchester, and tell your parents of the change in plans, and maybe pick up some reinforcements for our expeditions.” For some strange reason Chiu’s eyes seemed to be red and watery.

  As they walked up the lowered rear ramp, Ell informed Gareth that the mottled gray hull of the combat drop vehicle was twenty five millimeter thick metalo-ceramic composite, equivalent in defensive armor to thirty centimeters of hardened steel. The only thing that marred the exterior of the smooth deadly looking twenty-meter craft were a number of depressions, housing energy cannons, along with both air to surface and air to air missiles. Port and Starboard engines sat in outboard nacelles of the same tough material as the hull, and were each independently capable of propelling the craft in an emergency. With a crew of eight; including a pilot, copilot, and six passengers, along with a modest amount of cargo, with its stealth systems it was the ideal craft for covert insertions that might require some firepower to assist in landings and extractions. Gareth’s eyes took in the heavy padded interior equipped with racks for various hand-held weapons, and grinned his approval. Despite the fact that the ship was thirty millennia old, it still had that new-car smell of leather and oil. He and Chiu were buckling themselves into the pilot’s and copilot’s seats respectively when the view screens flickered to life. To Gareth it looked like he had a one hundred and eighty degree wrap-around windshield. Shyrrik, acting as their pilot, settled into a depression between the two seats that had obviously been built for that purpose.

  “Departure is on your command, Gareth.” Shyrrik’s voice said out of a speaker above their heads.

  He grinned while beside him Chiu looked pale. “At Ell�
�s clearance you can take us out. Please set a course for Puasheehchester, keeping our altitude at one thousand meters, and our speed below Mach one. The locals have never seen an aircraft before so let’s try not to upset them too greatly.”

  “As you wish.” The voice said mildly as the shuttle rose a meter, and moved soundlessly forward, passing through the transparent wall of the Transit Terminal as if it wasn’t there.

  Gareth heard Chiu gasp as they angled sharply upward. “We’re going to fall!!!” She managed to hiss through clenched teeth, her eyes bulging slightly as she stared at the receding ground. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the arms of the co-pilot’s chair with a death grip.

  Gareth laughed gently. “Nonsense. These things are safer than sleeping in your own bed. You don’t have to…” The shuttle slid to a stop, hanging suspended in midair.

  “There seems to be a flying creature purposely blocking our path, Gareth. What should I do?”

  The man rolled his eyes, and focused on the black speck far ahead of them. “It looks like a Qual. Why don’t you find us a place to land, and I’ll see what he has to say?”

  The shuttle dropped like a rock, jogged to the side at the very last second, and set down in a small clearing. Chiu let out a small squeak of fear. “We have landed.” Shyrrik murmured superfluously. “Should I cover you with shipboard weapons?”

  “It’s only a Qual, Shyrrik. You can stand down.” Gareth’s voice sounded calm, but as he stood he made sure that his Colt was firmly belted to his waist. Eldenworld was an insane asylum, and, for the most part, he didn’t trust the inmates worth a damn.

  The Qual equaled Gareth’s height, but was skeletally thin. An alien species to Eldenworld, it resembled a parrot more than a bat, with bright colored plumage starting at the crown of the head, slightly behind the heavy orange beak, continuing on back down the back to the long colorful tail feathers. Soft feathers on the wings, like those on the terrestrial owl, meant silent night flying. The golden eyes of the being were wide and intelligent, and Gareth had met him before.

  He gave it a short bow, holding his open hands palm forward to show no weapons or hostile intent. “Hello Ufn'waj. Fancy meeting you here.”

  The Qual returned the bow, and low laughter came out of a small silver disk it wore on a chain around its neck. “Well met, my friend.” The golden eyes regarded the shuttle intently. “I see you’ve made some progress uncovering the secrets of this world.”

  “Some.” Gareth replied dryly. “Although I’ve had a few setbacks along the way.”

  “Was the destruction of the moon your handiwork?”

  Gareth sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. That was one of my setbacks, actually. The story I received about blowing up the moon to save the Earth was just a scam. There was never enough mass in the moon to provide an effective shield for the oncoming radiation.” He bit his cheek, thinking rapidly. “Did your homeworld location happen to be programmed into the transport gateways?”

  It was the Qual’s turn to sigh. “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Yeah, well I guess we’ll have to do it the hard way. How many Qual are there?”

  Ufn'waj closed his eyes for a moment as he thought. “Eighteen hundred, give or take.”

  Gareth sighed. “I’ll be right back.” He turned and sprinted back to the open shuttle. “Shyrrik, ask Ell how many people those transports in the museum hold.”

  Sounding slightly put out, Shyrrik replied. “I can tell you that. Each Hieldea class transport can hold two thousand people.”

  “Great!” Gareth turned and bolted out of the door. “I have two transports available to me in orbit right now, and each is capable of carrying two thousand people.”

  Laughter began to peal out of the silver translator around the Qual’s neck, and then it slowed and came to a sputtering stop. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “As serious as death. Do your leaders have the location of your homeworld?”

  “Yes. It is passed down from generation to generation.”

  “Good. Tell your leaders to find me a large clear area close to your community and I’ll have a ship set down there as soon as it is refitted and serviced. I’ll get the Qual out as soon as I can.” He gave a sour laugh. “You’ll be the first to leave, in fact.”

  Ufn'waj stood as if frozen, only his soft feathers blowing in the gentle wind that smelled of pine trees. He made a strange gesture with his hands, spreading them out over his face as he bowed deeply at the waist. “This device is more than a translator, but a video recorder as well.” He said touching the silver medallion. “Your name will be revered in our culture, and generations of young Qual will pray to you when they sleep and give thanks to your name.”

  Gareth flushed scarlet. “You have got to be kidding. I’m just doing my job.”

  Ufn'waj’s eyes shone. “And I am just an alien species to you.”

  Gareth gave him a level look. “You are my friend.”

  The Qual chuckled. “And what will you do now, my friend?”

  Gareth’s look turned flat. “I have a whole world to try and evacuate using four teleportation gateways, two of which actually work, and two transports. The teleportation gateways go to ten worlds that might or might not be habitable, and you ask me what I’m going to do? I’m going to find a bar and have a drink.”

  The Qual looked somber. “Do you think that there will be fighting on Eldenworld over the gateways?”

  Gareth sighed. “Almost certainly. This could get very ugly before it’s all over.”

  “Can I be of some assistance, possibly acting as a scout?”

  Gareth smiled, and touched the Qual’s warm arm in a friendly gesture. “Thank you, Ufn'waj, but no. Go with your people, and take care of them. You are too frail, as you said yourself, for the upcoming fight.”

  The Qual gave Gareth a long look, and then nodded slowly. “It will be as you say. We will be in touch with landing coordinates.” The Qual spread its wings and in three beats was airborne. “May you have fair winds and following seas, my friend.” It called down.

  “…until Valhalla brother. Semper fidelis.” Gareth finished the ancient quote in a whisper as the Qual disappeared into the sky.

  Back in the shuttle he slumped into the pilot’s seat, a headache beating in his temples. “Shyrrik, will you please ask Elle to begin prepping the two museum transports for service?” He rubbed his head. “I may need you to fly one of the transports to the Qual homeworld, so I hope flying this scout ship is fairly easy. I’m not a great pilot.”

  The rear ramp thudded shut, and through the view screen Gareth saw the ground fall away. “Each of the ships has and on-board AI, Gareth. All I need to do is program the location of the homeworld, return coordinates, and any small particulars you think might be important, like a special atmosphere or gravity.”

  Gareth frowned. “This shuttle has an AI?”

  “After millennia sitting behind a desk, I felt like getting out.” Shyrrik replied blandly. “Ell has replied that it will take her drones two months to service the transports.”

  “Good. After those are done you might as well have her revive the rest of the museum ships as well. If we leave, we’ll want to take them with us, and flying a destroyer around will give Ell something to do. I wouldn’t want a bored AI on my hands.”

  “You think of everything.” Shyrrik said in a flat voice.

  “Someone has to.” He replied with a grin, trying not to think about what Ufn'waj had said about generations of Qual children giving thanks to his name. The very notion made him shudder. The image of Athena suddenly came to his mind, and several pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

  “There appears to be a ship entering the harbor.” Shyrrik commented two hours later as the shuttle broke through the high clouds squatting over the city of Puasheehchester. “I might be speaking out of turn, but isn’t an armed steamship slightly out of place in this environment?”

  Gareth gazed through the view screen and down on the
approaching SS Spray. It was an unbelievable coincidence that he and the SS Spray should arrive back at Puasheehchester at exactly the same time. Had it only been a few short weeks ago that he and Chiu had entered Jafelon, The City That Time Forgot, on their way to the moon? He sighed. “Do you remember Ell and I speaking about a noncorporeal, multi-dimensional being named Athena?”

  “I remember.” Shyrrik sounded puzzled.

  “The steamship is her idea. She let the plans fall into the right hands.”

  “It sounds as if this… entity, likes to meddle.”

  “She does, but she has her reasons.” Gareth filled in, glancing over at his wife. “Like the survival of intelligent life on this world.”

  “Oh…” Shyrrik was quiet for several long moments. “Where should I land?”

  Gareth grinned. “Set it down on the street beside the dock. We’ll meet the SS Spray as she arrives.”

  “She?” The AI asked in a perplexed tone.

  “Ships and aircraft are referred to in the female gender.” Gareth looked at the hull that surrounded him. “I guess that would apply to spacecraft too.”

  “That seems quite appropriate.” Shyrrik murmured as the shuttle descended in a tight spiral toward the street. Below them Gareth could see people pointing up, while other’s ran away. He really hadn’t wanted to make a grand entrance, but it was a little late now.

  “Gareth, look!” Chiu exclaimed, poking his arm to get his attention. “That looks like father’s carriage.” In the view screen a small black carriage was bouncing down the street in their direction, the driver on the top holding on for dear life. Behind the carriage by a hundred meters jogged a company of soldiers. There was a slight bump as the shuttle set down.

  “You might as well lower the ramp.” He muttered to Shyrrik. “We lost the element of surprise some time ago.” Behind the shuttle the horse that was pulling the carriage reared, and the driver fought to regain control. As Gareth stood and straightened his clothes, he noticed that the outfits Ell had provided he and Chiu today were almost severely tailored, gray, and cut in a formal military fashion. Both he and his wife wore low black boots. For weapons he wore his Colt, and he noticed with a smile, the hilt of a knife protruding from the top of Chiu’s right boot.