Stories of the Confederated Star Systems (6 page)

“Torpedoes away!” Commander Frazier shouted as his fingers punched the appropriate keys on his board.

Two hyperdrive-equipped torpedoes, each equipped with a 10-megaton thermonuclear warhead, dropped from their cradles and disappeared from view. Their hyperdrive engines carried them to their destruction undetectably until they returned to normal space inside the alien’s shields, just meters from their target. The alien crew never had a chance. One torpedo struck forward, the other aft.

The crew of the
Wells
watched in fascinated horror as the alien ship was destroyed. The tremendous energy of the twin blasts, aided by the containing effect of the ship’s own shields, crumpled the ship as it was shredded, spilling its atmosphere into space. Secondary explosions ripped the ship apart, scattering millions of tiny fragments into orbit and the atmosphere of an all but uncaring Earth. Other bits were blown farther out, away from the Earth and its destructive atmosphere.

Captain Reordan sighed as she sat back in her chair. “Secure from Battlestations. All hands begin damage assessments. Mister DeBaron, have your people sweep the debris for anything you can find out. I want to know who they were, and what they were doing here.”

Commander Frazier sat at the weapons console with his head in his hands. “Ma’am, I think we can secure the weapons as well.”

“Agreed,” Captain Reordan said, walking to his side. “What’s wrong, Kell?”

“I just killed who knows how many sentient beings, Erica. Beings who we’ll never know, never understand. I didn’t sign on to a science vessel for this.” Inserting his key, he looked at her and nodded. “Time, Ma’am.”

Captain Reordan nodded and walked around to the other side of the console. “3, 2, 1, turn. Weapons deactivated. You are relieved, Mister Frazier. Go lay down. If you need him, I’m sure Chaplain Harris will be available to you.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

Captain Reordan nodded as he walked away.
Who were you?
she asked the universe.
Why were you here? Why did you attack us?

* * *

Three days after the battle, the Temporal Systems Officer reported their position. “Ma’am, we are in the year 5513 BCE, and the time of year is March.”

“Very well.” Captain Reordan thumbed open her ship-wide paging system. “All hands, now hear this. We are nineteen years from our goal. All hands prepare for a microjump in three hours.”

The Wells jumped to the year 5535 BCE and began her mission. All sensors and recorders swept the Earth, bringing a detailed analysis of the ancient home of mankind. The duty was mildly dull, but not onerous. The specialists that form the crews the Confederated Star Systems’ Temporal Cruisers are historians as well as adventurers, and the planet beneath them was their favorite subject. Months passed at their normal pace, finally reaching autumn and the harvest. But something was tweeking the captain’s nerves.

Who were those people? Were they humans from another era? Why were they here? Were they the reason the Wells was here? Did they do something down stairs to cause the happenings we are here to observe?

“Chief’s Quarters, COB speaking.”

“Krys, come to control.”

Master Chief McCormack arrived moments later. “Yes, Ma’am?”

“Krys, take your Kitty to that debris field. Be careful, but find out what you can. And grab a piece of debris. I have a bad feeling about this.”

The COB looked at her old friend and asked, “How bad?”

“Like it wasn’t an accident that we found them here.”

Krystal looked at Erica and shook her head. “The Old Man wouldn’t do that to us, would he?”

“I don’t know, Krys. I just don’t know.”

Captain Reordan and her crew departed ancient Earth with a full report to take back to their home era. But they had questions as well. Questions they didn’t dare ask.

* * *

Senior Councilor Javonich of the Temporal Directorate paced his office, scuffing the fine carpet as he kicked away his frustration, while First Lord Devero watched impassively from his seat. The report of the
Wells’
encounter was in his hand, the datapad resisting his fierce grip.

“Their mission was a success, though they don’t know it.”

“Indeed, Councilor. You know that I objected to sending them into it blind.” The First Lord’s voice was soft, but it had a definite edge to it. “A little preparation might have done them a world of good.”

“I know,” the councilor sighed, “but it was imperative that it appear to be a random act, an accident. We couldn’t let on that we were aware that a battle took place above Earth so long ago.”

The First Lord stood and walked over to the glass case against the wall. There, nestled in a velvet pad, was a piece of wreckage. It was melted and twisted in an all too familiar pattern, though the metal itself was of an unfamiliar alloy. “To think that this has been buried on the moon for more than seven thousand years. God, can you imagine where we would be now if we had been able to make contact then?”

Councilor Javonich nodded. “Yes, I can. A slave race or an extinct one from all appearances and the
Wells’
report. They attacked without warning, and nearly destroyed the
Wells
and all hands. Not the act of a nurturing race.”

“Perhaps so.” The First Lord sighed. “I would like to send them out again soon. They need to be too busy to dwell on this incident. I will be doing enough of that for all of us.”

“As you wish. Send them to watch something quiet. I understand that there were some remarkable things happening in Europe during the 15
^th
Century, CE. Let them go watch a civilization being built.”

“Leave Nothing to Chance” © 2008

T
HE OLD SHAMAN SAT ON THE BLUFF
, the hot breeze toying with his long grey hair as he looked up at the sky. His eyes never wavered from the North Star, that fixed point around which all of the other stars rotated, as he sought guidance from the spirits.

Suddenly a new star flared to life, only to disappear in the next instant. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. He had been searching for a sign from the spirits, but was this the sign that he was seeking? The people needed a new home, but was this the place?

Sighing, he wished silently that, just once before he died, the spirits would make their will clear.

* * *

The Confederated Star System Temporal Cruiser CSS
H.G. Wells
, TCH-1, flared into being, her drives shutting down in response to a malfunction. Her velocity was sufficient to send her speeding out into the dark reaches of the universe, but that was not to be her fate. Earth, a past Earth that had still not even dreamed of her existence, was waiting to receive her. The
Wells
coasted into an elliptical orbit around old Earth, her automatic systems compensating for the error in the arrival window.

Captain Erica Reordan moaned softly as she began to regain consciousness. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the shapely backside of her executive officer, Commander Kellin Frazier. She was confused for a moment.
Why is Kell’s butt in my face?
Even more important, what was she doing lying on the floor of the control room? Resisting the urge to ask stupid questions, she rolled over and propped herself up on one elbow.

The
Wells’
control room was a disaster area. Bodies lay thrown about in various states of disarray. Everyone seemed to be alive, but no one was where they were supposed to be. Kellin drew a deep breath and rolled over suddenly, his legs knocking her elbow out from under her, causing her to fall across his knees.

“
Oof!
Watch it, Kell. Move slowly for a few minutes.”

“Captain? What happened, Ma’am?” Kellin sat up, looking down into her eyes for a moment before looking around. “Rough trip.”

“Mr. Frazier, you have an absolutely astounding talent for understatement.” Captain Reordan struggled to a sitting position, then hauled herself up into her chair. Thumbing her microphone to life, she punched up the shipwide announcing system.

“Attention all hands! Attention all hands! Damage control parties begin assessing the ship’s condition. Chief Engineer, establish propulsion capabilities and the status of the temporal drive.” Closing the circuit, she paused to rub her forehead, her fingers coming away with a smear of blood.

Commander Frazier handed her a wet gauze, and she unthinkingly slapped it to her forehead. “
HAAH!
Damn, what was that!” she snarled as she threw the gauze on the floor.

“Alcohol,” Commander Frazier replied levelly before sitting heavily into his own chair and accessing his computer. “Nav says that we have reached old Earth, but the temporal circuits are down. I have no idea when we are.”

The rest of the control room staff was beginning to function again, retaking their stations amid soft curses and groans. Captain Reordan shook her head and ordered, “Sensors, I want an evaluation of that planet. Verify that it is Earth, then see if you can establish the era. Use atmospheric sampling and mapping.”

“Aye, Ma’am,” the tech answered softly, not looking up from his panel. “Preliminary readings are pre-industrial. Very low levels of hydrocarbons. Limited sulfur dioxide, apparently from natural sources. Mapping shows a few large European cities, none in North, Central, or South America, with the exception of some population centers on the Yucatan Peninsula and in the high Andes Mountains. Waiting for our orbit to bring Asia into range.”

“Pre-Columbian, or earlier.” The captain sighed. A crackle of static drew her attention to the intercom. “Report.”

“Control, Engineering. We have normal space drive only. Hyperspace and Temporal drives are off line. Temporal drive is completely dead.” The engineer, Lieutenant Commander Williamson, paused for a moment. “We have indications that we took a micrometeoroid strike at the instant of our transit. We could be anywhen.”

Captain Reordan caught her lower lip in her teeth for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. Continue with repairs. Control out.” Turning her chair to face her command crew, she sighed. “You heard him. Until Mister Williamson establishes the true extent of the damage, we continue with the mission. There is a whole planet to survey for the historians. Until proven otherwise, we will assume that Mister Williamson and his people will be able to make repairs and return us home.”

The crew gave her a few dubious looks, then began the survey. They had arrived north of the solar ecliptic so as to avoid as much of the Solar System’s debris as possible. The ship’s automatic systems had placed them in a high orbit around Earth to avoid any possibility of detection, but that was far too remote for her to consider. “Helm, move us into a polar orbit. Low and fast. I want a ball of twine survey of this time period.”

The crew turned toward their primary tasks and began the survey, using instruments that varied from optical telescopes and cameras to x-ray spectrometers and gas chromatographs. Maps of a primitive planet began to form, showing a shockingly low level of development. There was some good news. The pyramids stood, and Rome seemed to have come and gone. China was flourishing, and Europe seemed to be clawing its way toward civilization.

Forty-eight hours elapsed before Lieutenant Commander Williamson surfaced again. “Captain, we have to land. I have made every repair that can be made in space, but there are some things that absolutely must be done on the ground, with all ship systems de-energized.” He sighed and offered her a lopsided grin. “Sorry.”

“Very well. What kind of ground conditions do you want?” Captain Reordan asked, straightening her back and looking him in the eye.

“Flat and dry, Ma’am. With a minimum of snakes.”

The captain eyed her engineer slyly, then nodded. “All right, Jarred, I’ll try.” Turning back to the control room, she raised her voice. “Mapping, I want a deserted piece of real estate, flat and dry.” Turning back to the engineer, she tilted her head. “I don’t suppose that you want the Sahara Desert?” At his negative response, she grinned. “Pick somewhere in southwest North America. If I remember my history, there shouldn’t be many people there to avoid.”

A suitable site was soon chosen, and preparations for a landing on an unprepared surface were instituted. Captain Reordan called an officer’s meeting to announce her decisions concerning the landing. “I want as many of our people as possible in the landing craft and shuttles. Minimum crew for re-entry. If the
Wells
breaks up, I want to lose as few lives as possible.”

Turning to her XO, she nodded once sharply. “Commander Frazier, you will be in charge of the small craft. Follow us at a safe distance. If we break up...use your own judgment as to where you land. Find someplace isolated and friendly, maybe in Polynesia. Above all else, ensure that none of the ships can ever be found.” She paused again and looked each officer in the eye. “Gentlemen, good luck to us all. Dismissed.”

The meeting broke up with the seven officers heading for the ships they would be commanding to the surface. Captain Reordan took her seat, strapping herself in for what she expected to be a rough descent. “Begin deployment,” she said softly, but her voice echoed through the
Wells
and her offspring. A slight jar and rumble announced each departing ship. When Shuttle Six left the ship a familiar voice said, “COB to Control. Don’t scratch her, Captain. I have a date when we get home.” Finally, when the seventh shuttle had separated, Erica took a deep breath and ordered “Begin descent.”

The
Wells
fired her main thrusters to slow her orbit, her helmsmen using years of experience to guide the damaged ship into the gentlest reentry they could manage. Still, the
Wells
bucked and roared, her heat shields blazing brightly as the friction of the atmosphere slowed her on her way down. Finally, the air around the ship began to clear and the captain dared to breathe again. “Status?” she asked, knowing her people would tell her what she needed to know.