Shatter War

by Dana Fredsti

  The markings of the gazelles and antelopes looked off. The giraffes weren’t anywhere as long-necked as they should be, and their trademark skin pattern looked more like that of a zebra. A pair of rhinos lazily regarded the ship, more concerned with chewing the tall grass. They were half again as tall as normal, crowned with wide, enormous double horns.

  The oddly shaped elephants wading in the lake sported tiny ears and squat, fat, almost bulbous trunks, and their tusks were shorter and bent down the wrong way. Off in the distance, a large carnivore pursued an over-sized warthog, but it wasn’t a lion—it was a lion-sized hyena, its body muscular and wedge-shaped, growing into an enormous skull and powerful jaws.

  “What a bizarre collection of animals,” Nellie breathed. “Have you ever seen the like?”

  “I don’t think anyone has,” Amber replied. “Most of these have been extinct for millions of years. Ship, can you identify any of these species?”

  “Provisionally judging from the skeletal structures, these animals appear to be various megafauna from the late Eocene or early Oligocene epoch.”

  “I wonder how long any of us would survive down there without firearms or an armored vehicle,” Blake said, staring at the ancient life below.

  “Let’s just be thankful we’re up here looking down,” Nellie replied smartly. Cam stared in rapt fascination. Not so for Harcourt, the first to grow bored and saunter back inside.

  * * *

  Wandering to the other side of the ship, Blake continued to stare down at the seemingly endless array of prehistoric fauna. Nellie Bly was correct. They were very lucky to be up out of reach of such creatures. Beautiful in a way, he supposed, but deadly. Still… he wouldn’t turn down a chance to hunt one of those overgrown hyenas if opportunity offered itself.

  “Blake.”

  He turned to find Dr. Meta standing at the upper hatchway.

  “Could you come down? I need your help.”

  Blake frowned. “What do I know about your technical gadgets?” He didn’t entirely trust the man, regardless of—or perhaps because of—Amber’s unshakable faith in his words.

  “It’s not that,” Meta said. “We have a situation.”

  The soldier in him responded to that. Nodding brusquely, he followed the scientist below decks.

  * * *

  The two men’s faces were illuminated by the reflection of the peculiar image on the instrument panel’s screen—a glint of sunlight reflected off of something metallic and sharp-angled, streaking through the azure sky. The sight of it raised Blake’s hackles.

  “The Ship spotted it a few minutes ago,” Meta said. “Invisible to radar, apparently, but the Vanuatu’s visual sensors managed to catch a glimpse of it all the same.

  Says it came down over the rise on the other side of the lake. How far away, Ship?”

  “Assuming no abrupt evasive changes to the trajectory, it touched down approximately nine-point-seventeen kilometers away, twenty-eight degrees north of our current position.”

  “I think we need to go see whatever this is,” Meta said. “Will you go with me, Blake?”

  “Is that a wise idea, heading off without your magic medical gizmos?”

  “My nanites? Yes, it’s a calculated risk—which is why I’d like you to come along.”

  “Why not just send your flying camera balls?”

  “I suspect this is going to call for a more hands-on investigation.” Meta hesitated a moment before adding, “We… may need to engage in some diplomacy, as well.”

  “If we’re going on a diplomatic mission, I’d feel better if I were carrying a Lee-Enfield or a Bren gun. Can your ship conjure up one of those for me? Or whatever new-fangled weapons you have going these days—any sort of Flash Gordon ray gun would suit me fine, too.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Blake,” the Ship replied. “This is a university research and recreation vessel. My protocols don’t allow fabrication of advanced firearms. However, if you wish ranged weapons, I am able to provide various options for bow weapons, including several sophisticated crossbow designs—”

  “Crossbows?” Blake gave a derisive snort. “Meta, as long as you’re tinkering around there with the robot butler’s brain, see if you can talk it out of that pacifist nonsense, will you?”

  “Don’t think I wouldn’t love to whip up a whole armory for us,” Meta replied, “but at present, that’s just a bit beyond my skill set. Ship, we will need you to provide us with a two-seater hover cycle.”

  “Certainly. It will be ready for you shortly, just past the main gangplank.”

  * * *

  “You all need to stay aboard ship.” Nellie’s impersonation of Merlin was uncannily accurate. She, Amber, and Cam watched as Merlin and Blake sped away from the Vanuatu on an airborne motorbike. “The cheek of him! Lecturing us about keeping put, and then the pair of them gallivanting off on their own without so much as a by-your-leave.”

  “I’m sure they have a good reason for it,” Amber replied, doing her best to hide her own dismay at the situation.

  “Bah!” Nellie replied with a snort. “Insufferable men.” She turned to Cam and hastily added, “Not you, Camtargarus. You’ve been nothing but gallant.”

  “I am your servant, my lady,” he said without a trace of irony.

  “See?” Nellie nudged Amber with an elbow. “Those ancient Celts raised their boys nobly well.”

  “You know his people were headhunters, right?” Amber said with a straight face.

  “I’ll still take his company over Professor Humbug’s,” Nellie retorted. “I shudder to think what that unctuous red-haired weasel’s been up to down there in his cabin all this time.”

  The Ship’s disembodied voice came out of the air.

  “Forgive me for interrupting, but there is a message for Ms. Richardson. I can relay it to you in the privacy of your cabin or on the bridge—whichever you prefer—at your convenience.”

  “What?” Amber said, caught off guard. “I… well, I’ll be right down.”

  “You don’t mind if Cam and I come along, do you?” Nellie said.

  “The message is marked private.”

  At the brief flash of suspicion in Nellie’s eyes, Amber felt a stab of hurt. “I swear, I have no idea what this is about,” she insisted. “Ship, can you still play the message if Cam and Miss Bly come with me?”

  “Of course, Ms. Richardson. You have the prerogative to override any orders.”

  “Great,” Amber said. Except it wasn’t because she was afraid that Nell—and possibly Cam—didn’t trust her, and she had no idea whether the message would help or hurt the situation.

  Nellie and Cam followed her down to the bridge, where the glow from the center panel lent the cockpit a strange lighting, like a sixties spy movie. On the panel, a window showed a frozen photograph. She couldn’t quite make out exactly what it was displaying—some indistinct streak of light in the sky.

  “What is that?” Cam asked.

  Amber shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you ready for your message, Ms. Richardson?”

  “Yes, please.” A panel of light appeared in front of them.

  “This message is from eight minutes ago. It is marked urgent and private. Are you sure you wish to view it with your companions present?”

  “I’m sure,” Amber said firmly.

  “Very well.”

  Merlin appeared on the screen.

  “Amber, I don’t want to alarm you,” he said, “but this is very important. Blake and I had to leave the ship to investigate what appears to be an aircraft of some type landing a few kilometers from our location. I’ve set a timer for three hours from now. If neither Blake nor I have returned by then, I want you to take control of the Vanuatu, lift off and continue to the South Pole as planned. Do not wait any longer for us. Absolutely do not attempt to rescue us. If there’s any more interference, you all will need to deal with it as best you can. The world is counting on us.

  “We’ll probably
be back very soon…” he continued, “but if not, remember what I said. Three hours. No more. Relay this to the others as you see fit.” The screen went black.

  The three of them stood stock still.

  “Do you wish me to replay the message?”

  “No thank you, Ship. I’m… I’m just processing.”

  “Amber, are you faring well?” Cam looked at her with concern.

  She shook her head. “I really don’t think so.”

  An Unknown Vessel

  Approximately 9.17 km north of the Vanuatu

  Six days after the Event

  The black scramblejet was designed to touch down as imperceptibly as technology would allow. Like a falcon on the hunt, it swept in over the desert at low altitude, and just crested the dunes to soar over the veldt. Moments later, the pilot snapped a split-second burst of long-range pictures of its target, the grounded ship. Still in stealth mode, he sped past it and reduced speed to come around.

  After a moment of consideration, he picked a likely-looking rise on the far side of the lake, kicked in the VTOL turbines and brought his spy ship to a gentle landing. Its adaptive camo skin automatically blended in with the savannah grass. With a hushed whisper, the canopy’s gullwing doors slid open and the pilot stepped out, marveling for a moment at the warm African air.

  Then he set to work.

  First, he fished out his med kit. Only one ampule left, he reminded himself. Better make it count. Next, he reached into the small cargo compartment and retrieved an oblong container about the size of a trumpet case. His thumbprint released the electronic lock. Inside, cushioned in custom die-cut beds of urethane foam, were three telescoping components of a gauss coilgun sniper rifle.

  He methodically assembled the weapon with a practiced hand and slung it over his back. Grabbing a few more incidentals, he closed up and locked the aircraft’s canopy, walked to the closest acacia tree, and climbed up. Situated on the modest hillock, it provided a commanding view of the lake and the approaches on either side. Its fernlike foliage was perfect for concealment, so he made himself at home, quickly setting up a sniper nest. Rigging a sling for his rifle, he suspended it in its harness to give him a 270º field of fire.

  Through the scope, he could make out the ship—even the name, Vanuatu. There were passengers milling about on an observation deck. He trained the crosshairs on the head of each figure in turn. No uniforms. Unarmed. No visible guns or missile racks on the ship. By all appearances, some class of pleasure craft.

  Absolutely perfect.

  Tonight he would pay them a visit. His sniper rifle could quickly and easily be reconfigured into a more compact assault carbine, or broken down to an extremely discreet handgun.

  Hold on. A brief plume of dust marked the departure of a vehicle. He scanned through the gun’s scope. Two riders on some kind of motorbike. No, some sort of hovercraft. Nice. He tracked it around the lake’s edge, watched it make the turn to come around toward his position. So they had managed to spot his landing. That was interesting… and unexpected.

  Change of plan.

  Relocating to a different branch, he swung the center of his arc of fire another 90 degrees, and got comfortable again. With a slow, careful sweep of the scope, he made sure there were no other sorties on their way, then reacquired his target. Two riders. That simplified his options. One would get the treatment, the other a bullet.

  He zoomed in with the scope. Driver and passenger. Both male, neither appeared to be armed. The passenger wore military garb while the driver was older, wearing a rustic robe, long hair. He centered the robed man’s head in his crosshairs, and ever so gently flexed his trigger finger. A stray breeze pulled the man’s silver hair back for a moment.

  The sniper froze.

  What the hell?

  Releasing his pressure on the trigger he stared at the driver in unbelieving fascination. He knew that face. He knew that man.

  He had a decision to make.

  12

  The Veldt Shard, North Africa

  Midday – Six days after the Event

  Amber paced back and forth on the Vanuatu’s observation deck, pausing every few moments to stare out at the veldt. Not even the animals provided adequate distraction to take her mind off what would happen if the two men didn’t return.

  “Ship,” she said during one of pauses, “how long have Merlin and Blake been gone?”

  “Dr. Meta and Sgt. Blake have been gone for an hour and twenty minutes,” the ship replied.

  “Which is five minutes longer than the last time you asked,” Nellie observed as Amber resumed her pacing.

  Amber stopped. “Seriously?” It felt like it had been hours since Merlin and Blake had gone off on their mission.

  Nellie and Cam both nodded.

  “Okay.” Sighing, Amber turned to her companions. “I am officially telling myself to stop before I drive us all crazy.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything…” Nellie let her words trail off, and gave a smile.

  Cam rested a hand on her shoulder. “Your mind is restless.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Amber conceded.

  “Can you not enjoy these marvelous birds and beasts?” he suggested. “I’ve only heard travelers’ tales of cameleopards and unicorns, but here they are. And we can watch them for omens and portents.”

  “Um. Let me think about that.” Then a thought struck her. “There must be a library in the ship’s databanks,” she said. “Let’s see what we can find there.” That would help take her mind off the ticking clock.

  “Great idea!” Nellie responded. “Let’s do some digging.”

  Cam seemed indifferent to the suggestion, though. “Not for me,” he said. “I’ll stay here and observe the beasts. I can watch for Merlin and Blake, as well.”

  “Good idea.” Amber nodded. Then she added hopefully, “They should be back before too much longer.”

  * * *

  “What shall we research?” Nellie asked as the women settled in the common room.

  “How about history?” Amber replied. “We’re in the twenty-third century now, as bizarre as that seems. Which means a whole lot of shit has gone down since either of our times.” She glanced at Nellie, who was looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “Er… a great many things have happened since you or I were born, and I’d like to find out what they were.”

  “I thought that was what you meant,” Nellie said with a grin. “For such a delightful girl, you have the mouth of a longshoreman.”

  Amber quickly changed the subject.

  “Ship, can you give me a quick history of the future? Sorry, I mean a history of the last two hundred years or so—from the year 2000 to—what year is it again?”

  “Today is February 8th, 2219.”

  “I feel like Rip Van Winkle,” she confided to Nellie before continuing. “Ship, what can you tell me about what’s been happening in the last couple of centuries?”

  “I have three hundred and fifty-two million entries encompassing twenty-first- and twenty-second-century history.”

  “Just the highlights, please.”

  The Vanuatu helpfully projected a rectangular screen at her eye level. She jumped a little—it was still disconcerting. Though it floated serenely in midair, it looked solid enough to touch, and she could adjust the reactive display merely by reaching toward it to change its angle or size. Her highlights option offered a long list of subjects to pick from:

  History of the 21st Century:

  • The Warming (see also Sea Level Rise Refugee Crisis)

  • Sino-Russian War

  • ACW II

  • Global Population Crisis

  • Antibiotic Collapse Crises (see also Staph Pandemic, the Domino Pandemic, Mega-Pandemic I, Mega-Pandemic II)

  • Water Wars

  • Polynesian Crisis (see also Floating Nations, Sea Level Rise Refugee Crisis)

  • Islamic Reformation

  • Wars of the Islamic Reformation

&nbs
p; • North Pacific Gyre Crisis (see also Pelagic Plastics Crises)

  • Ecol/Econ Movement (see Ecological/Economic Revolution)

  History of the 22nd Century:

  • Nanotech Revolution

  • BioGenetics Revolution

  • Arkology Movements (see also Biodiversity Reclamation)

  • Global Island Repatriation Efforts

  • Sustainability Revolution

  • Pan-Humanist Revolution

  • Coastal Reclamation

  • Post-Scarcity Revolution

  • Second Space Age

  * * *

  Amber didn’t much like the look of the twenty-first century highlights.

  Guess we didn’t learn from our mistakes.

  “ACW II?” Nellie said. Leaning over her shoulder, the reporter pointed at the line of text. “What was that?”

  Opening up the entry, Amber’s heart dropped—it covered the Second American Civil War.

  “Second?” Nellie’s deflated tone echoed Amber’s emotions. “You’d think one was enough.”

  “Do you mind if I close this?” Amber asked. “I’m not ready for this yet.”

  “Not at all,” Nellie replied, though it was obvious the reporter in her was itching to investigate. She tapped her fingers on the table, then brightened. “I know! We can look at a map of our hometowns and see what they look like now.”

  Amber thought briefly about opening up a map of twenty-third-century San Diego, but decided against it. Even if everyone she knew had been dead for centuries, she still couldn’t bear the thought of finding out her hometown had been nuked, or was underwater, or had been taken over by robots, or had gone all Mad Max.

  “Maybe later,” she said with forced cheerfulness.

  “Right,” Nellie agreed. “What else, then?”

  “Lemme see…” Amber scanned the list again. “Let’s skip the pandemics for now, too. How about… Oh! How about the second space age? Like rockets and other planets and the Federation and stuff.”