Defending Eden

 

Copyright

Defending Eden: Book Five, the Darwin's World Series

Copyright © 2018 by Jack L Knapp

Cover by Mia Darien

Stock photos from Big Stock Photos.com

Bottom Background Image Copyright J. Kim McLean 2018

 

 

All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Disclaimer: the persons and events depicted herein are the product of the author's imagination. No resemblance to actual persons or events is intended.

Product names, brands, or other trademarks referred to within this book are the property of the respective trademark holders. No association between the author and the trademark holder is expressed or implied. Nor does the use of such imply an endorsement by the author of the product, trademark, or trademark holder.

 

Defending Eden

Book Five, the Darwin's World Series

Jack L Knapp

 

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilogue

 

 

Chapter One

The engines had stopped after the bright flash. The ship, still moving, drifted away from the asteroid where the light had originated. Inside the cabin, two badly shaken humans sat bolt upright in the pilot and copilot's chairs, numb and frightened.

"Meu Deus! What just happened?" Zelle asked.

"I don't know," Mak replied. "Engines aren't responding." He pressed buttons on his console. There was a muted click from somewhere and lights came on. "We have emergency lights, but they're battery powered. That flash probably took out our reactor. If I can restart it, the engines may work, but I don't know..." Mak paused while he tried to reset the remaining switches. "Instruments are dead. Nothing from inside, all readouts are offline, nothing from the external sensors either. The visible band 'scope is working, probably because it's not electronic except for the tracking system. Which means it's almost useless."

"That's bad," muttered Zelle, pressing sensitive areas on the touchscreen that stubbornly refused to work. "Whatever hit us is still out there!"

"Yes, but unless that asteroid has a drive system..." Mak thought for a moment. "No, the neutrino sensors would have detected anything that powerful before we got close. The damage is probably done. But the drive system's not the worst part; notice how quiet it is? The fans aren't circulating the air, which means life support is off-line. Not surprising, since it looks like everything that's not backed up by batteries shut down when the reactor kicked off. So, no life support. I estimate we have enough air, water, and food for maybe two weeks if we cut back on usage," Mak continued. "And I can't even be sure of the time estimate. No instruments, so I'm going by what I remember.

"Air is the most critical. We can go without eating, at least for a while, but we can't stop breathing. The good news is that the oxygen tanks are full. The matter converter keeps them topped off and I would have noticed if that wasn't happening. Not sure how much hydrogen is available, though; the scoops were running, but so were the engines. Figure at least 75% H-two capacity in onboard storage. So I've got fuel, if I can figure how to use it. The active carbon dioxide scrubbers won't work without power. The passive ones were never intended to be more than an emergency backup in case the active system needed repairs, so as soon as they're saturated..." Mak's voice trailed off. He'd said all that needed to be said.

"But you got a full set of memory implants before we left! You can fix the reactor, can't you?" asked Zelle.

"I got the implants," Mak confirmed, "but they're not very useful. There was no time to integrate them with my other memories. Central said it would take at least a month to sort everything out, and anyway, even if I had full usable memory, getting the reactor back online depends on how bad it was damaged. I may not be able to restart it. For all I know, it may have been slagged beyond repair.

"It's frustrating. Some things I remember, but others that should be in my memories just aren't there. Change that; they're probably there if I can just find them." Mak chuckled bitterly. "Old people used to have that problem. The older they got, the worse their memories got. Everything was still in there somewhere, but the connections to find the memories were missing, and I haven't even made my connections yet. Integration would have taken at least a month and we were in a hurry to leave. Now, I just don't know. There may not be time enough to locate what I need. Always assuming the information was part of the implant and that the fix is fairly simple. What if I don't have the necessary tools or spare parts?"

"Yes, I see what you mean. But it all starts with your memory, so if you can't integrate the downloads into usable memory within two weeks...?"

"We'll die out here," agreed Mak. "But here's the thing, my brain and the chip are constantly working on the implanted memories. There's nothing I can do to hurry the process, but if I concentrate on what I remember about the life support system, that may be enough to influence which memories are integrated first. Considering our needs in order, survival is our priority. Not just short term survival, because we don't know how long we'll be out here. It could take months to limp back and the passive scrubbers won't last that long. Meaning that I've got to get the active system going. Not just to remove the carbon dioxide, but to split the molecules. We've got to have the oxygen. What's in the onboard tanks won't last more than two weeks, roughly as long as the passive filters.

"Here's the problem, I can use the chemical filters to take out the CO² and replace it with stored oxygen, but the chemicals in the filters can't be reused unless I run them through the matter converter. Which almost certainly isn't working right now. No electricity, except for the batteries, and that's not enough to even start the MC. Got to have juice to generate the containment fields, and even fully charged, the batteries don't have it. The atmosphere pumps also require electrical power, but I might be able to do something about that. And maybe...even if the power plant isn't putting out at 100%, I might be able to get it to provide enough juice to run the pumps and the matter converter."

Mak paused while he tried to remember. "There may be a workaround. There's an auxiliary generator; it's normally used to restart the reactor after a shutdown. It might provide enough power to run the atmosphere pumps and keep the cabin warm. But I don't know, because that's part of what I can't remember. Just to start with, I would have to convert the automatic controls to manual and switch the generator's output over to life support. I know how to do that, but I'm not sure the aux gen puts out enough power to run life support and the matter converter at the same time. The converter's internal fields draw a lot of power in the beginning, although some of the startup power is recaptured later on. I may have to alternate between it and life support, but I can probably do that and if I can, it will keep us alive.

"Full engine power, no way. Right now, we're dead in space but I may be able to use the steering engines to slow us down. If I can do that, our orbit will decay and we'll drift sunward. If we can survive long enough to reach Earth's orbit or at least get closer, I might be able to call for help. But out here, considering how much background noise I'd need to punch through? We're on our own."

"Lots of 'maybes', 'might's, and 'I don't knows', Mak. But I understand that you're doing the best you can. We just have to hope you locate those memories. Two weeks, reduced activity," Zelle mused. "I sure hope your brain understands the necessity of finding those memories! And from now on, we don't lift off until someone on board knows how to fix things!"

"Not to mention figure out why an uninhabited asteroid would flash us with some sort of weapon. And how that flash managed to kick our reactor off line. We were fine until that happened," observed Mak.

"Yes. You work on remembering what you don't know, I'll see if I can come up with a rational explanation for what happened. My people do a lot more traveling in space, but my knowledge may not help because our rocket-powered ships aren't even in the same class as this one. I'm pretty sure we haven't got around to exploring the asteroid belt.

"But in this dimension..." Zelle shrugged. "There's no telling what might have happened. A previous expedition from your Prime could have left some sort of automated device. That bright light bothers me; the raiders that grabbed our dimension shuttle used bright flashes too. They could have been working out here."

"Lasers, most likely," said Mak, thinking aloud. "We know about them, but we don't use ours as weapons. Industrial applications mainly, according to my chip. But if that's what happened, if we got hit by a laser, we're lucky it didn't do more damage."

"It could still kill us," responded Zelle, "depending on whether you get the reactor started. But fortunately for us, your ships have ceramic hulls. This one may be able to shrug off a hit that would have blown a hole through our rocket-propelled ships."

"It survived some of the damage. We're still alive; all it did was kick the reactor offline. Whether it also caused some sort of flashback that damaged critical reactor parts..."

***

Ten days later, Mak's efforts paid off. The lights brightened and the air pump's murmur, something they'd never noticed until it stopped, broke the silence. The screen illuminated, displaying the readouts from the emergency battery pack and internal sensors. Recharging would take two hours and twelve minutes; the batteries had dropped to 38 percent of capacity.

"Reduced power output from the auxiliary generator, but it may be enough," reported Mak. "Even when it's working at max capacity, it puts out less than 5% of what the fusion plant does. The matter converter will operate, but it won't be anywhere close to 100% either. Not enough power available. I had to dial back the MC's input draw to keep from blowing the aux gen. There's not enough power for the strong EM fields needed for nuclear synthesis, but there's enough to split the carbon dioxide molecules. Which means we'll have oxygen and food--make that something edible--by hydrating the excess carbon. I doubt we'll like it. According to my chip, it tastes like burned toast. Calories, yes; we'll have enough to keep us alive for about a year, but no gourmet meals and maybe not enough vitamins to keep us healthy, but it won't taste like poop. A good thing, because the MC recycles that too.

"Bottom line, there's enough power to split chemical bonds but not to rework nuclei. Hydrating carbon's a simple chemical reaction that requires comparatively little energy. The electromagnetic scoops that collect hydrogen for the engines, make that the generators that create the fields that scoop up hydrogen, are fried. That's where that faint burned smell is coming from. Most likely, that bright flash overloaded the fields and caused a flashback. The scoop-field generators will have to be replaced when we get home, but until then the only hydrogen we have is what's in the tanks.

"There's a workaround for that too, not a good one, but something. I'll divert some of the waste carbon from the MC to the steering engines. And that's the ultimate time limit for survival; we're burning next year's food to provide thrust.

"Here's the sequence; the steering impellers, life support, and the matter converter require electricity. Everything depends on the auxiliary generator, which won't work without fuel. We don't have nearly enough hydrogen, but carbon will work, at least for a while. Eventually, it will clog the aux gen's injectors.

"Of course, if I had full power the MC could convert the carbon to hydrogen, but I don't. Not only don't I have enough to run the MC at full power, I've got to apportion the generator's output. Life support has to run almost continuously, the matter converter has to run periodically, and only after it's switched off will I have power for the steering engines. And we won't get much boost because of the reduced power, tenth of a gee acceleration at most.

"I'll keep working on the reactor, but I have no idea whether I can restart it. The way I see it, we've got one chance only; we slow down, coast toward home, and hope for the best. And even if we do manage to reach Earth's orbit, maybe even when the Earth is on this side instead of the other side of the sun, we can't land. The steering engines aren't strong enough. But I think I can get the radios online; I remember that much. Maybe even get the telemetry link transmitting. If Central hears us, it will notify someone to send help. We'll also need some sort of beacon so the rescue ship can find us, but that part I haven't figured out yet."

"How long to reach Earth's orbit, Mak?"

"At least six months, depending on when Central picks up our signals. Right now, Earth Prime is heading away from us and we probably won't be able to catch up. And if they don't send help within a year, it won't matter. It's gonna be a boring trip, except for wondering if we'll last long enough to get there."

"Do you play chess?" asked Zelle innocently.

"No. I never learned," admitted Mak. "Different kind of games on Prime."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you!"

 

Chapter Two

Things had changed on Darwin. The danger was still there, but distant; no longer the wilderness experience that Matt and the others had faced, it was now roughly similar to what early trappers had faced when they pushed into the American west. The transplants concern now was to how best to manage their planet. To this end, rules had been adopted. Development would be limited; the first rule for any endeavor was to not harm the local biosphere beyond tolerance. There would be no smog, no rivers that caught fire, no dead streams or lakes. There would also be no extinction of plants or animals due to human encroachment. People would live with, and be part of, the biosphere.

Those who ignored the new rules, who believed that the rule-makers had no jurisdiction, soon found out differently. The lessons were painful, sometimes fatal. Darwinites had little patience for the uncooperative.

***

The three had much in common; each was the leader or co-leader of a village.

Home had been first, built near the river as soon as they arrived. To house the tribesmen who had made the trek; no one anticipated that their protective palisade might someday need to be enlarged. People who drifted in were welcomed. They settled inside the walls, building their huts wherever there was space, until crowding became an issue.

New arrivals had to be turned away; there simply was no room inside the palisade for them, but just being close to the wall provided a kind of security. A few built shacks next to the wall, but then more came and built their own shacks. Home was soon surrounded by squatters.

The town's residents helped the newcomers as much as possible. No one wanted to see fellow humans starve or fall victim to predators, and the squatters were quick to take advantage. Why risk hunting or gathering, when the villagers had food to spare?

The dependency could be tolerated to a point, but sanitation also became an issue. Cats, wolves, even giant bears might be hiding in the dark! Easier and safer just to do what was necessary where you were. Most did, and the area soon stank like an open privy, which it had become. Finally, when the residents could take it no longer, the squatters were told to leave.Ruth and Moira, realizing what had to be done, assumed leadership of the undisciplined mob. Francisco became their consort and enforcer. The solution was to build a village of their own. If Home could do it, so could they.

They found a site atop the bluff and a few miles south of Home. There was a spring-fed stream for water and the ground was suitable for building a palisade for defense. The former squatters built New Town, which was soon shortened to Newton. And there was no reason to mess with what was working; Francisco and his consorts remained in charge.

Newton's people soon got the chance to redeem themselves. The river flooded and Home, which had been built in the floodplain, was wiped out. Newton's people helped the refugees build the replacement village farther to the south, perhaps inevitably named New Home.

Bear's Town, located farther to the west, had been named for the founder. The core population had come from Newton and New Home. Their new village was considerably improved over the earlier designs.

The palisade was larger and surrounded by a ditch. It had also been designed with possible future expansion in mind; a new palisade could be joined to the first and a section of wall removed. The interior was also better planned than the others. Passageways made walking easy and ensured that every hut had convenient access.

Winters, even this far south, were harsh, the winds strong. But the pit houses they built for themselves were snug, and a simple hearth fire in the center was enough to keep them warm. Local materials were used and construction was easy.

The network of relationships that had sprung up between the villagers helped everyone. Who could say when the next disaster would come, or which village might be affected? The only certainty was that whatever happened, the people would help each other.

The leaders, like the townspeople themselves, often met informally to discuss issues that affected everyone. Today's meeting had come about in that way.

***

Francisco, Bear, and Colin were sampling the latest dish from New Home's kitchens.

"Different," said Francisco cautiously.

"Sweet, but kind of spicy," observed Bear.

"I'll have a talk with the cooks. That one's off the menu," Colin sighed. "The spices smelled good, although considering the taste 'spice' might not be the right word!" The three grinned at each other and by mutual agreement, set aside the dishes holding the cook's latest attempt to create a grape-based pie sweetened with honey. Plus sage, and more than a hint of juniper that lingered unpleasantly after the sweetness was gone.

"Matt's asking a lot of us," said Bear.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure he understands. That jumper of his makes getting around easy. To my way of thinking, it's too easy," said Colin. "I'll use the one he gave me to save lives, but otherwise I'll leave it parked."

"The rifles are tempting too," Francisco agreed. "I know Matt said we're not to use them unless we're invaded, but what if someone decides we ought to thin out the dire wolves?

"Some of our knuckleheads are arguing we do just that," Bear pointed out, "because the dire wolves are too dangerous. Their argument is that you can kill individual wolves without causing problems, thinning them out in effect, but not the entire pack. That might damage the ecosystem."

"Unless you have a rifle! Fifty shots, and without reloading?" Francisco said. "No pack is that large!"

"Yeah," Colin said. "Something else they don't understand; if we let all that technology get loose, it's bound to change things. Old Earth couldn't control it, and I doubt we can either. We didn't have any of that stuff when we got here, so we had to figure things out, but as soon as you start depending on tech you don't need to think. Use a jumper to locate the wolfpack, for example, then start shooting. Fifteen minutes, tops, and no more dire wolves, not in that pack. And within a month, no wolfpacks."

"And no more Darwin's World," Bear agreed. "If we start shooting wolves from the air, even once, then everyone else will too!"

"And then the bison will multiply, unchecked," agreed Colin. "They'll eat the prairie grasses down to the roots, and after that they'll starve. And when that happens, we'll go hungry too. Technology will change things if we let it, and then we'll go down the same dark hole Old Earth did. I say we stop it now, while we still have the chance."

"I don't like the wolves," Bear mused, "they almost got me a year ago! But they do keep things in balance." He got up from the table and brought back a pitcher of ale and three mugs.

"That's a new batch," said Colin. "We added a few tiny conelike things we think are hops, or will be after a few generations. They're not poison, and to be honest I like the bitter taste. Let me know what you think of it." He took a deep drink of the frothing brew and smacked his lips appreciatively. Following his lead, the other men drank deep.

"Pretty good," opined Francisco. "Takes away the aftertaste of that pie!"

"Matt intends that I take over the job he was doing, picking up orphaned and injured kids and shuttling them to Prime," said Colin. "It will take up some of my time, but it needs doing and it won't fundamentally change anything, so I'll do it. I'll go where I need to, pick up the kids, drop them off on Prime, and head back here. It will not only save lives, having me do this links every community on Darwin together. The other villages aren't close enough to meet up like we do, but they'll know they're not alone, and now that every leader's got one of Matt's signalers they can get help in an emergency. If a town gets wiped out, we'll send people to help them rebuild, or if it happens to us we ask them for help."

Colin drank deep, then topped off his mug before continuing. "New Home pretty much runs itself now, so I can spare the time; but Matt's not done with us, and that may create problems down the trail. Francisco, he wants you to be a diplomat, assuming we ever make contact with the extraterrestrials, that is. And he wants Lee to be some sort of general. He gave him a jumper too, same as the one he gave me, not that it means anything yet. Lee's jumper hasn't moved since Matt delivered it." Colin grinned, and the others smiled back. Matt was influential, no question about it, but there was also no question that Darwin's people were naturally independent! "So far, Lee's refusing to touch the thing. Says he's not going to, short of an off-world attack. He got a hundred rifles too, same as we did, but they're locked up in a shelter he built. He figures we don't need anything we can't make for ourselves."

Colin looked inquiringly at the others, who nodded back. They understood Lee's point of view.

"I don't know when it will happen, but it looks like Matt intends to take our best people. He doesn't have an army or a navy yet and I'm not sure he ever will, but if he needs one we're it. Make warriors out of Prime's people? Good luck with that! Sild did all right after he got here, but as for the rest? Matt's figuring the leaders will come from Darwin, but I doubt it will work. His troops will have to come from that other version of Prime, the one with all those people, and I expect they'll insist on having their own officers in command." Finished with what he wanted to say, Colin drained his mug and went to refill the pitcher.

"I agree about not using what we can't make for ourselves," said Francisco. "We've got the closest thing to an Eden right here on Darwin that a reasonable mind can expect! Everything we need is here, as long as we're willing to work for it. But that's only if we don't try to change things; Old Earth did, and next thing you know the animals were mostly gone and there were too many people.

"But it won't happen to us; we'll do better, because we have the knowledge the ancients didn't. It won't be easy, though. We're already getting push-back from a bunch of would-be eco-engineers! I, for one, won't let it happen! I'm part of nature, we all are. Instead of changing it, we know it works fine just the way it is, and I'm willing to live with it. Far as I'm concerned, the ones who don't feel that way can emigrate to Prime!

"But not me; I like Darwin the way it is. One of these days it will get me, but so what? A fellow is supposed to have asked once, 'Do you want to live forever?' I don't know that I do. So far, I've got plenty to interest me. Life is good, we're not likely to get sick or be crippled by age even, so I don't see how it could be better. I've got everything here that any man needs or has a right to expect."

"I agree," said Colin as he topped of mugs. "I'll use the jumper to do what Matt was doing, rescuing hurt or orphaned kids and transporting them to Prime, but other than that it stays parked."

"Unless we're invaded," reminded Bear. "I agree with Lee; I say we depend on nothing we can't make for ourselves. Leave things the way we found them as much as possible. Small changes only, so that natural processes aren't overwhelmed. That's really the only way we can keep this Eden you mentioned the way it is."

***

Mesk and Visz were waiting when Matt arrived. He was annoyed at being called away from what he'd been working on, and it showed. "You asked to meet," he grumped. "What have you got?"

"He says he's got something we need to hear. I understand part of it, but not all, and it does sound important. So I called you." Mesk handed him a cup of coffee, the new Hawaiian blend, then sat down. Matt glanced at him, eyebrows raised, but Mesk only shrugged and nodded to Visz. Matt found a seat and sipped at his coffee.

"I understand why you named Poim's world as you did," Visz began. "You thought it was like Prime, but it's not. Start with language; they speak a derived form of Portuguese. That means they have a different ancestry, and therefore a different culture. Somehow, Portugal or a Portuguese-speaking colony—Brazil, perhaps—became the dominant nation on their version of Old Earth. But before that could happen, the previously dominant nations had to lose their position. I'm guessing they probably wiped themselves out, which caused the timeline split that led to Poim's world.

"Not sure when it happened; so far, I've explored far enough back in their history to know it had to be at least a century ago, and probably quite a bit earlier than that. Anyway, we kept on developing, but they started over after the war. And that led to differences, not only in technology but how they live. That war had another result, overpopulation; that's been the post-war norm throughout human history. Which led to a shortage of living space, and what they had was more polluted even than on our version of Old Earth. They needed a solution in a hurry, so they put most of the planet's resources into looking for an answer. They found one, their version of the dimension hopper. It may have been by accident, I haven't gone that far back in their past so I don't know for sure, but what I do know is that theirs is different. According to their history, that happened just over a century and a half ago.

"The how it happened is public information, the mechanics of what was discovered are still classified. I haven't managed to bypass that block and I don't want to take a chance on offending them. Their hopper controls are built in, and they appear to be based on a combination of binary arithmetic and ordinary higher-level functions. That tells me how they select destinations, but not how the system works.

"Back to how the dimension hopper changed their society; they had three problems, overpopulation, pollution, and desperation. They considered moving excess people to other versions of Earth, but almost no one wanted to go, meaning they'd have had to expel them by force. It wouldn't have worked; by the time they'd moved a jumper load to a different world, there would have been more than enough births to make up for the ones they'd just shipped out. So they kept the people on P-2 and off-worlded almost everything else. As soon as the new farms started producing, they imported the food by jumper and shut down the ones on Poim's world. That freed up a lot of space right there.

"And while this was going on, they were also geo-engineering Poim's world. The deserts aren't; the Sahara, the Gobi, the Kalahari, the North American west and all the other former dry areas are gone, vanished. They're drier than the tropics, but not by all that much, and a lot of people live there now. They built new villages wherever they could find room, piped in desalinated ocean water, and over time forced local ecosystems to change. They could do it, because they needed the space and they didn't have to worry about all the national borders that Prime had back in the 21st Century. The war, or maybe a series of wars, saw to that.

"Poim's Earth is a mass urban area now, nothing but wall-to-wall people. Food production is on a different Earth, probably several that are all versions of Poim's Earth, but on different dimensions. Mining, manufacturing, waste disposal, everything not involved in day-to-day living is located on another dimension. They manage, but only because they can easily cross dimensions. And so far as we know, only Prime, Poim's World, and a few others that are almost identical to ours have that kind of dimension-crossing technology.

"The Poimies knew something of space travel, but they never progressed beyond rockets. They never discovered the electronic impeller drive, but it didn't matter because access to an alternate Earth beat anything they could have found in the solar system. They never quite abandoned the idea of space travel, but they never devoted a lot of resources to it either. It never went beyond the early stages, because dimension crossing was better. The people interested in space now are motivated more by nostalgia than curiosity.

"Now look at what they don't have," Visz continued. "No Central, and no matter converter. Those are critical to understanding why their society is so different from ours. Dimension hopping made their civilization possible. They didn't need a Central, because they had more than enough people to do what Central does for us. No matter converter, also not needed because they had more resources than we do, still do, because there are an infinite number of Earths to exploit. And they're constantly exploring nearly-identical dimensions to make sure they don't run out of resources. The upshot of all this is that they are present in a lot more dimensions than we are. We've explored other dimensions, it's how we found Darwin, but we never did more than visit. We went in just long enough to find out whether the planet had a human presence and when we found one, we never tried to contact them. We had no need to, and considering our shrinking population plenty of reasons not to. Which is probably why the raiders encountered them but never found us. So far.

"On Prime, we had highly developed space travel and gave it up. We didn't need it, because we had Central and the matter converter. Plus overpopulation wasn't our problem, quite the opposite. It's an unfortunate side effect of pervasive electronic communication; our population had begun to shrink because contacting others electronically was more convenient than meeting in-corpora."

Mesk interrupted briefly. "You've done a lot of work! Just curiosity, or something more?"

"A lot more," said Visz. "You'll understand, but I need to get there in my own way." Mesk nodded and sat back, waiting.

"Now we need to look more closely at our history," Visz continued, "particularly developments that led to other discoveries. About a century after the international computer network started operation, the one that would eventually evolve into Central, a team of mathematicians and scientists at MIT worked out the basics of controlling and focusing energy fields. We'd had worldwide wars, but this was the first worldwide science project. The MIT people took the lead, but half a dozen other US universities contributed. China, Russia, Europe too, and not just people, because the research wasn't cheap. Anyway, they learned how to manage energy fields, but figuring out how to convert nuclei didn't happen overnight. Synchrotrons and the LHC smashed nuclei apart using high velocity particles; the new high-density energy fields smashed particles together using a brute-force approach. In the process, they found they could create new elements.

"Portable matter converters can create light elements using even lighter ones as building blocks, but the big industrial units can even create trans-uranics. Not that we need them, because their half-lives are too short for them to be useful, but the technology is there if we ever need it.

"Translating theory into what became the M-C technology was again a team effort, the second worldwide science-engineering project, this time including engineers from different nations who met together, grad students and post-doc fellows too. A lot of people worked on the project, and they were happy to get the opportunity because the M-C was cutting edge technology. And they coordinated everything through the network that by then they'd started calling 'the Web'. It was, in fact, a web linking everyone and almost everything on Earth.

"The first matter converter was crude. It absorbed an enormous amount of energy and needed an enormous building to contain it, one made with non-magnetic materials. It used the very powerful internal fields that nowadays are shielded by an equally-powerful field, but they lacked the technology back then to do that. And while they were working on improving and shrinking the MC, they discovered the dimension jumper. Both are based on the same principles, and for that matter so is the electronic impeller drive. There was an earlier electromechanical version, a sort of hybrid that was maintenance intensive, but it worked. The electronic version is in all ways better.

"The important thing is that one discovery led to another, and the Web was the key. Everything, literally everything, was available somewhere on the Web, as were a number of artificial intelligence programs. They began interacting with each other and at some point, the AI developed a kind of sentience. That made it much more powerful; it could not only manage the flood of data, it could analyze it and integrate it. The Sentient Web is what we now call Central. Without that sense of self-awareness that enabled Central to not only use information, but improve on how it's distributed and used, we might never have discovered the matter converter or the dimension jumper.

"But we had Central, then the MC and after that the dimension hopper. Poim's world didn't. Best guess, their timeline split from Prime's at least two or three centuries ago, but probably less than four. Again, it's only a suspicion because I haven't gotten that far back in their history; there are similarities, but also an enormous number of differences and so far, no shared point of convergence.

"They have a computer network. It's not aware, in the sense that Central is, but I suspect that's only a matter of time and added complexity. They have their version of the dimension hopper too, meaning that within a generation or two his people would have discovered the matter converter."

"Not sure I follow," said Mesk. "Ours became sentient, theirs didn't. Why didn't their computer net develop sentience?"

"The war I mentioned almost certainly went nuclear," said Visz. "It would have had to, in order to wipe out the dominant nations of the time, and a nuclear exchange meant repeated EMPs. Nuclear explosion-generated EMPs are almost certainly what destroyed their network. Best guess, the replacement net doesn't have nearly the capacity that Central does, nor does it have as many nodes. Maybe it hasn't been around long enough, but even so the replacement network was good enough to do what they needed.

"They discovered how to build that first jumper and in a sense, that led to a kind of dead end. They put all their resources into perfecting dimension-crossing technology. Instead of looking for other planets, they just jumped to other versions of Earth. If by chance they found themselves on an inhabited version, they left right away. There were plenty of others with untapped resources and no people."

"Okay. That makes sense," said Matt. "They're in thousands of dimensions, we're in a bare handful, and only two, Prime and Darwin, have more than a handful of people.

"None of this explains who the aliens are," said Mesk thoughtfully, "but it tells us a lot about them. They need resources, which is why they were exploring. Not just for new territory, but mineral deposits; it was a P-2 prospecting team they hit, and both knew the approximate location because each lives on a version of Earth. That, in turn, tells us that they don't have the matter converter. They didn't have a dimension jumper either, until they grabbed Poim's ship, so probably no knowledge of how to control really strong energy fields.

"The attackers are almost certainly from a distant version of Poim's dimension, and there are likely to be related versions on our dimension too. We don't know that, but we also don't know there aren't any so we have to prepare. Which means we need an effective defense. If they attacked Poim's people, there's no reason to suppose the ex-tees of our dimension won't attack us. We also know that they have an advanced form of space travel, probably on the level of what we gave up, but until they captured that jumper they had not been able to cross dimensions. They wore sealed helmets, so they live on a world with greater air density. Our Earth, to them, is a marginal world.

"They immediately attacked, because externally the jumper didn't look anything like their ship. It represented a different technology, probably higher than theirs. That tells us quite a bit more about them; quick to attack means that they have enemies.

"Our people, Poim's too, would have simply left that version of Earth to them. They want it, we don't need it, why fight over it? But they didn't give Poim's scouts a choice. They're also non-human; that's why they took the bodies of the scouts, to figure out who and what they'd run into. Conclusion, they're probably our equal in space technology or nearly so, but not in other areas. They want advanced technology and they need mineral resources, but they needed help to breathe on the version of Earth they attacked. That means they're not interested in Earth as living space. That's a lot of guessing, so what do you think? Does it sound correct?"

"There could be a different explanation for the air tanks," said Matt. "What if they're afraid they'll pick up diseases? Or vermin? If you lived on a planet without flies or fleas, wouldn't you do everything you could to avoid importing them?"

"Point," admitted Visz. "But then there are the legs that bend backwards."

"There are Earth species that do that," countered Matt. "Quadrupeds are like that, hind legs that flex in the opposite direction, and some can stand more-or-less upright. It's really not that different, just longer or shorter bones between the joints, and their arms appear to be roughly the same as ours."

"But they grabbed the bodies," Visz argued. "That points to a different species. They expected to run into enemies but not humans, so they took specimens."

Mesk nodded. "We can't be certain until we have a one of them to examine, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be thinking about it now. And that's all we've got so far, thinking. They haven't been back yet. No raids, or none we know of, just...nothing."

The other two were digesting that when Central interrupted with a priority communication alert. "Accepted. Deliver your message," ordered Mesk.

<Message from space, possibly the ship that Mak and Zelle were in when communications ceased.>

"Central, question: why the ambiguity?" asked Matt.

<The communication protocol is different. The voice is Mak's, probability in excess of 90%, but response is slower than expected. Second voice, Zelle, probability greater than 87%.>

"Could Mak and Zelle be on a different ship? One from the other Prime, perhaps?"

<Unlikely, Matt. Differences are less than 12%. Probability, damage to their ship. Possibility exists that Mak repaired the radio or otherwise found a way to communicate.>

"What did the message say?" asked Mesk.

<'Request assistance.' That message repeated several times, then stopped.>

"We have ships available, do we not?" asked Matt. "How long to arm one? Based on what happened to Poim's scout, I think we need weapons. "

<The need was foreseen. Ships are available. One standard day to convert large industrial lasers to laser cannons suitable for use in space. Four standard hours to install and test them. Estimated time to completion, 28 hours.>

"Arm three ships and deliver them here when they're ready," Matt ordered. "Plot a course and upload it to the ship's computer; direction, closest estimate to the vector that signal came from, and distance if possible. If the message was received by more than one ground station, triangulate."

<Commands acknowledged.>

Matt stood up, refilled his cup, and left. Bare moments later, he boarded his jumper and told Central his destination. He was going to Darwin; the people there would need to know about this latest development.

He would fly one of the three ships, but what about backup? Poim and Joao, perhaps? For a moment, he felt a pang of grief. Once, that someone would have been Lilia, but she had grown tired of waiting. His family, the children...

Well. Matt shrugged off the depression that had taken him by surprise. He tried not to think about what he'd lost, but... she wouldn't have to wait long before she found a new consort. Matt's children would not grow up without a parent.

And in the final analysis, he'd had no choice.

Matt suppressed his feelings and tapped the screen, heading for Bear's Town. "Central, can you get a message to Poim?"

<Yes, Matt. I will record your message, send a jumper, and radio Poim when it arrives on his world.>

"Message as follows. We've heard from Mak and Zelle. If you'd like to go along on the rescue, meet me on Prime. Add a time, when the ships I ordered will be completed, and a location where they'll be waiting."

<Command acknowledged, Matt.>

 

Chapter Three

Matt decided that the best place to meet Poim and Joao was at the nearest spaceport, in this case 189km east of the central Rockies. He sent a quick message via Central and boarded his jumper for the short flight.

The three ships he'd ordered were waiting, parked side by side in the center of the hardpan. Matt barely glanced at them; he'd received a quick memory download right after returning from Darwin. As a result, he now 'remembered' having flown similar ships dozens of times. Identical, except for the armaments that Central had added on; unlike Mak's scout, the new destroyers, Matt's name for them, packed a punch. "As my message mentioned, we've heard from Mak and Zelle. I'm going out to rescue them and I thought you might want to come along. I also intend to have a look at what crippled their ship."

"Certainly," Poim said. He glanced at the field and frowned at the nearest ship. The menacing black hull dwarfed their jumper. "Three ships; does that mean we'll each be piloting one? We've never flown anything that big; our ships are larger at takeoff, much smaller after the booster rockets fall away. Our biggest is less than half the size of these!"

"Not a problem; the computer will fly it. You've at least been to space, according to Central's records, which is one reason I asked for you. I also want to familiarize your people with our ships. The ship that hit your jumper came from space, which means you'll need ships of your own."

"We've flown," Joao acknowledged, "but only as far as the moon. Even so, I understand why you would want us along; dimension crossing isn't the same thing at all. One moment you're at home, the next you're on a different Earth. We've never been able to measure the interval. But space is different; the trips take a lot longer, plus you're surrounded by vacuum. If your ship leaks, and it's happened a few times, the suit will save your life. Had we known what you had in mind, we'd have brought our pressure suits. They're tailored to us."

Matt nodded. "I understand your caution, but our ships are different. Your rockets go as far as the moon, while ours were designed to spend most of their time out in the Big Dark. Start with the hulls; ours are ceramic, and each sub-section is cast as a single unit. The sections are welded together during assembly, so the hull becomes equivalent to a single ceramic casting. No leaks, in other words, and no weak spots, other than the entry port, and because of the thickness and the beveled design it's really not weak at all. That space just behind the entry is an airlock. The inner door is closed during flight, which adds an additional margin of safety. The hulls can be disassembled for upgrading, but again, during reassembly they're re-welded into a single unit. Central assured me that the ships are perfectly spaceworthy, and maybe they are, but if necessary one ship can accommodate all of us, long enough to get back to Earth, at least. And even if the ships are as perfect as Central claims, something happened to the one Mak and Zelle took.

"Accident? Enemy action? Since I don't know, it's better to be safe than sorry. It's one of the reasons why I wanted three armed ships. There are half a dozen life-support suits on board each. They may not be an exact fit, they're there in case we have to go outside the hull. I doubt you'll need them, but I might. We don't know what happened to Mak and Zelle. If their ship is damaged to the point my ship can't make an airtight seal with theirs, I'll figure out how to extract them. As to the suits, you'll learn more about them after we're on board. The information's in the computer. By the way, you'll interface with the computer using helmets, but other than that your ships are identical to the one I'll be flying."

Matt noticed the glances they shared with each other as they approached the ship; his comment about the computer doing the actual flying hadn't reassured them. But perhaps a complete briefing, using the information he 'remembered', would.

"Length of this model, a destroyer, is 147.5 meters. The mean diameter of the hull is 61 meters." He passed by the open hatch and headed for the ship's nose, a blunted cone whose flowing lines were interrupted by four equally-spaced projections. Rounded in front like the nose itself, they blended seamlessly into the hull about four meters ahead of where the curve flattened to become the ship's midsection. This is the bow. The term doesn't mean much, the impellers can fly it in any direction including sideways; but since this is where the lasers are mounted, 'bow' works as well as any. Each ship has four laser cannons with a 50cm discharge lens. Power output can be varied to an extent, so we rate them by the diameter of the optical cavity. The lenses are in the domes, which are normally closed as you see them now. The domes retract as soon as the accumulators begin powering up. They can be aimed, but only enough to vary the common focus point. That's less than a fourth of a degree in any direction, so for practical purposes they're fixed. You designate the target, the flight computer aims the lasers by pointing the ship at the target. Right now, they're set to converge at their minimum range, 1000 km. That's for safety; any closer, you're likely to hit debris from the explosion.

"They can be fired one at a time or salvoed, meaning all four are fired at the same time. That gives you the equivalent energy output of a two-meter laser, something even Central hasn't been able to cram in a ship this size. I asked, and the answer I got was that in order to carry a reactor capable of powering four one-meter lasers and the bigger systems such a ship would need, it would have to be at least ten times larger than this one. It's not just the lasers, it's the cooling systems and everything else that goes with them. A bigger ship would also need more powerful propulsion units and a larger power plan, probably more than one. Doable, according to Central, but such a ship--they'll be called cruisers, if we ever build them--wouldn't be nearly as flexible as this model. But if it turns out later on that we need them, Central assures me it can be done.

"The lasers pack plenty of offense, but even so, weapons management is important. If you salvo all four, you're looking at 30 seconds to a minute before the systems return to nominal. Until they do, the lasers are out of action. But Central assures me that no known armor can survive that jolt, so other than in training, I doubt you'll ever need to fire all four at once. The lasers don't just burn their way through a hull; that many joules, delivered to a single point in less than a millisecond, is equivalent to exploding a fair-sized nuke. Approximately a meter of hull, depending on the focus setting, is converted to a superheated plasma. The hull material itself forms the fireball."

Matt glanced at the other two to make sure they were following the discussion. They were.

"If you alternate the discharges by firing one laser at a time," he went on, "you'll be able to fire continuously until the waste heat builds to a dangerous level. If you fire them as pairs, you'll be unable to fire for at least ten seconds after both pairs are discharged. Recycle time depends on power plant output, the capacity of the cables to carry the necessary current, and again, how fast the waste heat can be dumped off into space. Opening the louvers over the radiator fins...they're located in the after part of the hull...increases efficiency, but a couple of minutes of discharge will leave you glowing like a comet until the heat bleeds off. Meaning that if your enemy is using an infrared tracker or missile, passive countermeasures won't work; you'll have to try to target an incoming missile with your lasers, meaning even more heat buildup. It's a vicious cycle that can bite you in the ass, so think about what you're doing. You can think ahead, the flight computer may not be able to. Its response will always be predictable.

"Fortunately, the lasers are not your only armament. You've got four railguns, one on the end of each stub wing, that can be aimed ahead or behind. If you fire them at a 90º angle, the recoil will cause flight problems. Fire all four while they're pointed up or down and the ship will end up spinning like a top. While spraying copper slugs in a circle. I suggest you avoid doing that unless you're surrounded and enemy ships are attempting to board. But first, make sure there are no friendlies in the vicinity; the slugs don't care who they hit. The magazine bays are in the wings, the only place we had room for them, but since the guns are mounted on the wingtips it works out. Mags hold 50 slugs and are modular, so reloading is simple and fast. Release the four locks, pull out the three empties, plug in full ones and lock them in place. The mags mate up with slides after installation. When one is expended, it's dumped and the next slides into position. Feeding slugs to the railgun takes place automatically.

"Two issues to keep in mind; counting the ready magazine and the three in reserve, you've got 200 slugs per gun. Magazines can only be loaded into the gun bay when it's pointed ahead, the normal position unless you ever find yourself being pursued or, as I mentioned before, surrounded. If we ever have to undertake offensive operations, we'll include resupply vessels with preloaded magazines. Central's working up a design for that model too, but I doubt we'll build any. Not until we need them, at least. Cranking the slugs in manually can be done in an emergency, but filling a depleted magazine would take a long time. Not to mention awkward in zero gee.

"Are those missiles?" asked Joao, pointing at the wings.

"They're recon drones. They have no offensive capability, other than ramming one into a target. I doubt it will ever come to that. They have full telemetry links to your ship, meaning that if the drone is close to a possible target, it's effectively the same as if your ship was there. The intent is, send out a drone or two if you detect something suspicious; they'll do the reconnaissance, you hang back until you're sure it's safe to approach. As for missiles, I can't see us needing them short of engaging a target more than a million kilometers away. The lasers are effective out to a quarter light-second, roughly 75,000 km. Dust is the problem; there's not much, but whatever there is will have degraded the beam by the time it reaches that distance. Against soft targets, the lasers are effective to twice, even three times that distance. Against armored hulls, probably not.

"The railguns' copper slugs aren't maneuverable, but their range is essentially infinite. There's no drag in open space, so they'll keep going until they run into something. A hit at a few hundred thousand klicks is the same as a hit at a thousand; there's an excellent chance it will ruin someone's day. At extreme ranges, dispersal is a problem. The slugs will still cause damage, even though there may not be enough of them to assure a kill. To sum up, this is a powerful little bird, probably more powerful than necessary. But we have no idea what we might run into out there. We'll rescue our wayward explorers first, then figure out what happened. If we do encounter something dangerous, fighting might not be the best option; if necessary, we flee and live to fight another day.

"Back to weapons management; the computer's AI will recommend a tactical mix, but whether you accept that solution or use a different mix is up to you. Keep in mind that lasers can recharge, but railgun ammunition is limited to what's stored in your wings. For most engagements, the lasers should be your first choice unless the radiators can't dump the heat fast enough. Let's take a look inside."

Matt led the way up the steps and turned left after he entered the hatch.

"The bow is that way," objected Poim, pointing to the right.

"It is, but your command post is amidships," said Matt. "There's simply no room in the bow. The lasers are there, which means plumbing has to be there too, and anyway, unaided eyes are virtually useless where we're going. Distances are far too great, plus the sensor suite—most instruments are in a band around the hull behind the lasers—gives you more information than human senses ever could. The only drawback is that you lose visual and thermal for a few seconds after the lasers fire. Radar and lidar continue to function, so you're not blind. The screen's display is selective for amplified visual, infrared, three kinds of radar, lidar, and for close in work, mass sensors that pick up disturbances in space-time. More about that in a moment.

"Power flow is from the reactors in the aft section through sheathed low-voltage high-amperage cables to the accumulators. They're located directly behind the lasers, one bank for each. To fire, a relay completes a circuit, which causes the accumulator to dump a high-voltage spike into the exciter. That charges the laser. This all happens inside the photon tube. The photon wave picks up energy during each cycle and amplifies it. It's quick, no more than a few milliseconds before the laser discharges. You won't even notice the delay.

"The sheathing around the high-current power cables contains liquid nitrogen, which keeps them from overheating. That's another reason for having suits on board; you'll be in yours if we have to go into combat. A hit that cuts a power cable could flood the control room with gaseous nitrogen. It won't be as cold as the liquid form, but it's still cold enough to freeze you in seconds. Liquid nitrogen also conducts waste heat from the lasers back to the radiators, located forward of the reactor and extending between the wings. The radiators consist of banks of fins surrounding a network of tubes that increases the surface area. Fairings cover those during atmospheric flight. The radiators will work even with the lovers closed, but for full efficiency you'll need to open them to space. As for the suits, you'll know in plenty of time if you need to button yours up; as I mentioned, the ships have a suite of detection systems and the flight computer displays every contact in real time. Ten minutes before they're in range, you'll get an alert ping. That tells you to get into your suit and button up, just in case you haven't already done so.

"To help you select targets, there's a short-term track behind each contact to tell you which way the target is moving. The displays update every ten milliseconds. The flight computer will highlight the one it considers the greatest threat, so you should nail it first.

"Commanding the squadron is my responsibility. If we run into one or more of the ships that killed your scouts, I anticipate deciding which targets take priority. If your ship becomes separated or if I'm not able to direct matters, you will act independently. I suggest you spend your time underway studying the things I just went over."

"But there are no controls," objected Joao. "All I see is blank wall!"

"That's all you can see until you power up, and you'll need to be wearing your helmet at the time. The faceplate is your display and you control the weapons with eye movements. The ship adjusts to you, so it won't take you long to become comfortable with the system. Each ship has five seats in the cabin slash command post. The rear three are for passengers, the two in front are 'hot seats' for the commander and copilot. No copilots today, so pick whichever seat you're comfortable with. Decide which of you will fly this ship and take your seat. Make yourself comfortable, recline the seat if you prefer, and when you're ready, put the helmet on. You'll find it beside your seat, in the same locker that holds your suit."

"Food and water?" asked Poim. "Sanitary facilities?"

"At the rear of the control room. There are doors in the aft bulkhead, just walk toward it and you'll see indicators light up. You can get up and walk around if you need to; the computer will hold station on my ship. Each ship has facilities for five people, same as the number of seats. You have internal storage for enough supplies to last five people for a month, but for longer cruises we'll remove some of the drones and hang supply pods on the wing pylons."

"I see what you mean about not flying this thing," muttered Joao. He picked up a helmet and looked at it doubtfully.

Matt tried to reassure him. "The helmets seem clumsy at first, but until you get your own implant it's the only way you can work with the flight computer's AI. My brain interfaces directly through my chip. If you want, I can arrange for you to get chips of your own when we get back. The procedure is simple, but it takes a while before you're used to it and we don't know how much time we have. Otherwise, I'd have suggested you get chipped before flying.

"The helmets work. Take half an hour or so, run through a few drills—the computer will help—and when you're ready, we'll go pick up our lost spacemen."

***

The three ships lifted off, silent as so many snowflakes, and immediately slid into an arrowhead formation. Matt waited until they'd cleared the stratosphere, then increased speed.

Half an hour later, they passed the moon and headed out into space. Mak and Zelle had been somewhere in the vicinity of Jupiter when telemetry was lost, so that seemed a good place to start the search. Matt was absently scrolling through possible scenarios and letting the computer handle everything else when the tactical trainer's feed was interrupted by a message. <I have located the damaged ship. Shall I approach?>

"Quicker than I expected," Matt muttered. "Have you passed the information to Poim and Joao?"

<We are linked.>

"Approach cautiously. Launch a drone when you're in range."

<Not needed at this time. Ship identity confirmed. External damage noted. Radio contact initiated. Will you speak to Mak?>

"Put him through."

***

Just over an hour later, his ship nestled against the damaged craft, Matt extended a boarding tube. He nodded a greeting to the two men as they came through the airlock door and removed their helmets. "Shed the suits and take a shower; you guys stink! As soon as you're clean, food will be ready. Eat first, explanations can wait."

Half an hour later, the three relaxed in the control room. "I almost forgot what real food tasted like!" exclaimed Zelle. "And you got here just in time."

"Oh?" asked Matt.

"Mak finally won a game of chess. He was beginning to catch on."

"I can see how that would be a problem," said Matt drily. "But I need to know what happened. Your ship was hit by a weapon?"

"A laser, I think," said Mak. "We saw a bright flash and right after that, the fusion plant shut down. Working thesis, the flash didn't penetrate the hull but the power surge destroyed the sweep generators. That overloaded the cables, which kicked the power plant offline. I couldn't restart it."

"And this came from an asteroid?" asked Matt. "Could you find it again?"

"Sure, I've got the information in my chip. Want to have a look?"

"Download what you've got. We'll head over that way."

They located the asteroid two and a half hours later; the last half hour had been spent searching for it after they reached the Belt. It had drifted from where it had been when it fired the shot that crippled Mak and Zelle's ship. Matt decided this should be handled by Joao and Poim; up to now, they'd done nothing more significant than learn how to handle their helmets and interface with the ships. "Take positions off to my right, combat spread," he sent. "My computer is linked to yours so don't worry about what that means. Launch one drone each as soon as you're in position. We'll take a close look at Mister Asteroid."

<Both acknowledge, Matt. Joao sends, 'Moving out now.'>

Matt waited quietly, following developments by the telemetry links. Mak and Zelle watched from their seats at the rear of the cabin, Mak through his chip and Zelle through one of the two onboard helmets.

<'That's an abandoned mine, I'm thinking',> sent Poim.

<'Agreed. Abandoned fairly recently, based on how thin the layer of dust is. An automated defense system that wasn't shut down when they left? That tube shaped thing is probably the laser.'> sent Joao.

<'No sign of life. That cleared area by the sunward end is probably where they parked their ship'.> from Poim.

<'Nothing alive',> agreed Joao. <'But their ship wouldn't have needed to land. That clearing might have been for storing processed ore. Any reason to salvage any of their stuff?'>

<'I don't think so. A mining 'bot is a mining 'bot, and a laser is a laser. You thinking what I'm thinking?'>

<'If you're thinking you want to see what this tub's weapons will do, I am.'> sent Joao.

<'Matt, we intend to destroy the installation. Is that acceptable?'>

"I suggest you not expend more than 10% of your railgun slugs, but other than that, have fun."

<'Ten percent restriction acknowledged. Joao, you go first.'>

<'Firing.'> The image of the asteroid danced and sparkled as the copper slugs slammed into the trailing half. Chunks of rock popped free and drifted away.

<'Poim, the rest is yours. Take your shot, then configure your lasers.'>

<'Salvo all?'> sent Poim as the asteroid resumed its sparkly dance.

<'Oh, yeah!'> responded Joao. <'Haven't had this much fun since I potted a whole family of T-rexes!'>

<'Wait for my countdown; we'll engage together. Ready?'> from Poim.

<'Ready.'>

<'From five. Five--four--three--two--one--'>

Far out in space, the asteroid blazed brightly, then vanished. A cloud of dust hung in space for a few seconds before dissipating, leaving no trace that an asteroid had ever been there.

 

Chapter Four

Visz sighed and pulled out the keyboard. Old fashioned as it was, there were times when it was preferable to addressing Central directly. Such as now, when there was no database in Central's extensive memory banks for the computer to access. The science simply hadn't been done. At least, not by the version of Central located here on Prime.

The computer net on Poim's Earth was different in a number of ways, but so far there was no evidence it was sentient in the way Central was. But even thinking about this might be dangerous. How sentient was Central? "Central."

<Yes, Visz?>

"Isolate and seal memory, this communication and subsequent. My access only, unless specifically authorized by me. Confirm."

<Acknowledged. Seal memory of this communication, sole access by Visz or those he authorizes. Associated files also sealed. Sealed contents identified as Visz One. Suggest you make a separate recording of the name, one not accessible to me.> Visz nodded, an unconscious gesture, and wrote the name on a notepad with a brief description of what he was working on. He had done all he could. Central had been acting strangely for some time, but maybe this would work. He linked the large display to his keyboard and picked up the pair of wands. Drawing carefully, he began constructing a complicated arrangement of lines that somewhat resembled a tree, where no two branches separated from the trunk at the same location. He labeled the point where the first branch separated 'Decision point 1', then wiped the '1' and changed it to '2'. Going back to the main line's beginning, he created a box, labeled it 'Time Zero', and added 'Prime 1' atop the box. From there, he moved to the next branch and labeled it.

Finished, he looked at the display and switched back to the keyboard. He started typing notes into each box, then paused. Wouldn't each branch have branches of its own? He drew in one and labeled it Decision Point Two A. Deciding the name was too unwieldy, he erased all 'Decision Point' labels—after all, he knew what they were—and substituted letters and numbers. The former DP-2 was now P-2, for Prime-2. Simple, easy to understand, and based on their relation to the Earth of his own dimension, Prime.

'Prime' had, up to now, been their way of separating 'Earth' from Darwin, short for 'Darwin's World'. The name was better applied to the dimension that identified each version of Earth, since Darwin was not at all like Prime. Not just in the lack of people, but the planetary surface itself. Oceans were smaller, because a lot of water was still tied up in continental glaciers; the weight had, in turn, forced plates to shift, causing earthquakes and probably eruptions. Call it D-1; and wouldn't it have its own community of similar dimensions? D-2, etc?

Somewhere in the past, Prime's dimensions and the Darwin's dimensions would have separated. They were, after all, different versions of the same planet, Earth. Which led to a different train of thought. How different were the dimensions? And what had caused the changes? Realizing he was on to something important, he began extracting information from Central's library. He paused for a moment, thinking.

Central itself could extract a list of major events from history, could it not? But how to differentiate major from minor changes? If he was right, all changes would cause a split in the time stream. And each split formed a new dimension. He entered the command and examined what Central provided.

He worked on the list, refining it. Some of the differences seemed to be minor, so why had Central provided them?

Maybe that was the problem; there had to be an infinite number of dimensions. But how to separate one from another? Didn't it make sense to include geologic history in the list? What about meteor strikes? Weather, including major storms? In the early days, before Central gained control of Earth's weather, storms had been nearly as destructive as volcanic eruptions or earthquakes. Unquestionably, all had affected Earth's population, Prime's population. But not all of the events had caused permanent changes. Some had been no more than temporary interruptions, 'glitches' perhaps. Could the time stream, in effect, heal itself? A city might be temporarily paralyzed by a hurricane or snowstorm, but within a few months most of the effects would be gone.

The list of decision points were close together at first, some only a few weeks apart, but then wider gaps appeared. Starting roughly two centuries in the past, Central's list was accompanied by question marks, indicating that the information wasn't complete or Central wasn't sure how important it was. The uncertainty might be because at some point in the past, humans would have had no version of Central. Or the matter converter or the dimension jumper. But the ones that did...

Could he fill in some of Central's information gaps by cross-connecting with other versions of Central? The first world-wide network, known back then as the internet, had been around since the 20th Century but it had not been sentient. Hence, not 'Central'. But at some point, sentience would have appeared, and each dimension that split off after that point would have its own Central. And a slightly different view of history; after all, historians never really stopped analyzing the past. New discoveries, new interpretations...

So each version would have developed independently after its dimension split away from Prime. Information databases, such as the history he was examining now, would become increasingly different as well. Not only new events, but new knowledge of the past? Including new scientific discoveries? Science involved choice, didn't it? Fund this investigation, don't fund that one? And ideas...they were as fleeting as human life. The scientist who died in one dimension might have survived in another. One dimension's revolutionary discovery was another's might-have-been.

Examining the different databases seemed the logical thing to do, now that Prime One was faced with an unknown danger. Not only from the cross-dimension raiders; something had destroyed the first ship Prime had sent into deep space in more than a century. But were there dangers in connecting the different versions? Suppose Central was not truly self-aware, but only seemed so?

And suppose one of the others was?

Visz felt a sudden chill and the hairs on the back of his neck stirred.

***

Central took command of the three ships as soon as they entered Prime's outer atmosphere. Half an hour later, they landed at the same field they'd departed from. Zelle was taken to a medical facility for a complete physical. Mak, thanks to his chip, needed less attention. He waved farewell as he boarded the waiting jumper, on his way to meet Ros.

"That went well," observed Joao. "I'm sorry it ended so soon. I was finally getting used to that helmet."

"It takes time," Matt agreed. "No question, our ships are not like your rockets."

"We could use a fleet of them, enough to send armed escorts with our exploring ships." Poim looked longingly at the sleek craft. "We can build our own railguns, lasers too. If you're willing to share your technology, I mean. We'll get there, but it will take longer."

"I don't see why not. Give me a moment." Matt contacted Mesk to ask his opinion. The interchange, chip through Central to chip and back, took bare seconds.

Mesk agreed; <'I see no downside to providing them with whatever help we can.'> Satisfied, Matt continued his interrupted conversation with Poim. "Mesk agrees. I suggest that when you have time, contact Central and set up an appointment. The chipping operation doesn't take long, but you'll want to spend a few days here while you accustom yourself to using it, and after that, you'll be able to directly interface with a ship's flight computer. I'll also hand over ownership of the ships you flew. To your world, I mean."

"Thank you. I want to think about that implant before I agree. We'll keep it in mind, but we don't have a Central to interface with, and anyway, after I got used to it, the helmet worked well enough. But about the ships; how are we supposed to get them home?"

Matt referred the question to Central. The exchange took some time, then he tried to explain what the network had told him. "Central says it's not possible. I asked for an explanation, but apparently even that's not possible, not without a long series of information implants. Followed by integration, which according to Central, I wouldn't understand anyway. Give me a few days, I'll see what I can do."

Poim nodded and looked inquiringly at Joao, who shook his head. They shook hands with Matt and headed for their jumper.

He watched the jumper, waiting for it to depart. It was a sight he never tired of, a solid craft one second, gone the next, with only a muted thump of inrushing air to show anything had ever been there. Moments later, they were gone and his own ride was waiting. He boarded the jumper and was soon back at his office.

Waiting for coffee to brew had become a pleasant ritual that gave him time to think. He glanced around at the bare walls and wondered why he'd never bothered to add anything personal. Not that he owned much, only his spear, bow, arrows, and leather garments. They barely filled a cabinet in his habitation. He had everything he needed, but the only thing he could call his own was what he'd made with his own hands.

The office was functional, no more than that. Should he decide he needed more space, Central would have it ready in minutes. There was no shortage of space, only of people to use what was already available. The new office would immediately be just as familiar as the old. And just as impersonal.

On Darwin, he'd had a home, primitive though it was. He'd never needed much, a shelter for sleeping and storing his few possessions. On Prime, he could have almost anything he wanted but at the same time, he had no home. Had the wealthy people of his time, back on Old Earth, been like that? As rootless as he, their lives spent traveling between one property and another? Or living in a series of hotels? Tesla, arguably the greatest engineering genius of his time, had lived like that. Matt squashed a momentary urge to head for one of the newly revamped parks and construct a shelter, a place he could call his own. Ridiculous...

But maybe not. Larger parks now contained real ecosystems, didn't they? He would find them familiar, in a sense more familiar than his office; some of the animals and many of the plants were ancestral types imported from Darwin. Stag moose lived in the Carpathians and eastern steppe of Europe; bison roamed free across the central plains of North America and the pampas of South America. Small grazers were thriving too, and there were predators to keep populations in check, smaller cats, coyotes, even wolves. Their howls echoed nightly, lending an atmosphere that Matt found reassuring when he visited. As he often did, via jumper; despite the occasional insect, having lunch or dinner alone under a sheltering tree was preferable to eating in his office.

But there were no lions, other than a few prides in the African veldt, and no giant bears, dire wolves or sabertooth cats at all. Prime's residents were prepared to accept the new wild areas because they were needed for training, but if Sild decided his trainees needed to experience Darwin-like ecosystems, Darwin itself had all they needed and it was only seconds away by jumper.

Old Earth; for a moment Matt was nostalgic. Prime, thanks to Central, was as close to Ancient Earth's legendary Garden of Eden as possible, but it wasn't home. Despite the pockets of poison left over from mining, despite the polluted landscape and atmosphere, even the oceans saturated with plastic; despite everything, Old Earth of his time was home in a way none of the others could ever be.

Was Darwin the real Eden? Matt wondered. But probably no Eden after all, not yet. On Darwin, slavery still existed. Some had turned to piracy, and there were worse things; cannibals roamed the swamps, according to rumor. But not as many as before. He'd done his share, and others had carried on after he left. They'd told Matt about one such incident during a visit.

***

Plains people had learned to avoid the area. The higher ground between watercourses was overgrown jungle anyway, and insects buzzed, and bit, constantly. Alligators and crocodiles infested the waterways. Those were understandable dangers. Safe enough, if one was careful. But why bother? The plains were thick with game. But then had come mysterious disappearances; village inhabitants, out for a day of gathering or hunting, had vanished. Such tracks as could be found led to the swamp. Finally, even the live-and-let-live residents of the towns had had enough.

Whether the motive behind the attacks was slavery or cannibalism didn't matter. Darwinites had learned to police their own world. Each village supplied its share of warriors, as well as the supplies necessary to support an invasion. Lee had led the force, assisted by a former swamper named Budo.

"You got to fight the swamp before you can fight the cannibals," Budo had advised. "Axes and shovels, that's what you need. Start by cutting back the trees along the bayous. Fill in the potholes where the skeeters breed. Once the banks are cleared, them cannibals won't have cover. They'll have to come at you and that's when you kill 'em."

Even so, victory had not come easy. The fighting had been bloody and bitter. But in the end, the cannibal leaders had been exterminated, their villages burned. Younger women and children had been dispersed among the plains settlements. New Home, Newton, and Bear's Town had accepted as many as possible, then sponsored new settlements a few miles farther west. The lesson had been harsh, but in the end beneficial. Trade had sprung up. The few remaining swampers now swapped hardwoods, scarce up on the plains but abundant alongside the bayous, for meat. Overgrown jungles had become farms.

And south of the bay, a budding pirate industry had been squashed in its infancy.

Trading ships still had to contend with weather and dangerous wildlife, but voyages were profitable. Spices grew naturally on volcanic islands and landmasses. Coffee too, but not 'naturally'; the transplants had originated in Africa. Tea was also available, although most claimed it was inferior to what had been available on Old Earth. Even so, it was far better than what the early settlers had concocted from local plants.

***

Matt shook off the introspection and contacted Central via his chip. Now that he had more time, see if the network could explain what it had refused to before.

"It would seem to be a simple matter to add jump capability to the destroyers, yet you say it's not possible. Explain."

<I could indeed reconfigure the hulls, but they would need larger fusion packs and much larger accumulators to cross dimensions. The lasers would have to be stripped out as well. The railguns and ammunition packs could remain and the drones would not be needed.>

"Continue explanation."

<You lack much background information.>

"Implant the necessary information."

<Implanting would have to be done in stages. Integrating everything you would need to know would take years. Even then, there is no certainty it would work. I suggest that you are currently too important to chance such an undertaking.>

"Work on a simplified explanation, something I can understand. But first priority, decide what we can do to help Poim's people."

<I have suggestions. Mesk should be consulted before I begin. You should also speak to Visz. He is working on a project that you will find helpful.>

 

Chapter Five

Central had finished updating Matt on all that had gone on during his absence. He was now enjoying his first cup of coffee when Mak called. "Got time to talk?" he asked. "In corpora?"

"Sure. Where are you?"

"Fifteen minutes out. Your office?"

Matt agreed, wondering what Mak wanted. Something to do with Ros? She was due to deliver shortly, a boy Matt thought. A quick call to Central confirmed the sex of the child and that Ros's pregnancy was going well. And that there were no issues between the two of them; thanks to their implants, Central would know. Had there been issues, Central would probably not have mentioned them, but the computer understood that Matt wasn't prying where he shouldn't. He was trying to discover what Mak wanted.

Mak arrived a few minutes later. They exchanged greetings and Matt poured Mak a coffee, then topped off his own.

He studied Mak for a moment. No signs of stress, no evasiveness. So... "Got something on your mind?" Matt opened.

"Yes," Mak said. I agreed to help Sild and Kath get the training program going. You know about that, don't you?"

"Sure. I thought it was a good idea. You've got the experience, because you finished a similar course, then did more than anyone expected on Darwin. I don't know that I had it any harder, and I was all alone when I first got there."

"It was pretty rough toward the end," Mak acknowledged. "But here's the thing; they don't really need me. Central has my memories, as well as yours and Bear's. The candidates will have it all by the time they start the course."

"We're calling them trainees now," Matt said.

"Okay, trainees. I agree, each class needs experienced people, so I'll help. But after the first group, Sild and Kath can handle it without me. Especially if a few of the first ones become instructors when they get back. It might take a while for the school to become self-sustaining, but there's no reason why it can't. Make it a mandatory part of the course; as soon as the trainees return from Darwin...not trainees by then, I suppose...they become instructors. Teach the next class what they'd learned. Sild thinks that after the first few cycles, he'll want something different too. He hasn't figured out what just yet, but he's looking."

"So what does that have to do with me?" asked Matt.

"I intend to go back into space, and I'd like a ship of my own. Yours has already been on a shakedown cruise, so why not assign it to me?"

"No problem. Ask Central to set it up. They're actually Central's, all of them; I just borrowed three, and as for the other two, the transfer failed so you can have them too if you want. For that matter, there are hundreds of hulls in storage. There was no reason to scrap them and plenty of storage room, so they were just parked in case they might someday be needed. They're not armed, but Central can see to that if you think it necessary."

"Central agreed in principal that yours could be assigned to me, but suggested I talk to you first and find out how you felt about it," Mak said. "You're going to form a defense force, right? With armed ships and maybe even a ground force?"

Matt nodded. "I'm thinking a space force organized along the lines of the 21st Century US Navy. That's the one I'm most familiar with, because I attended a senior officer's course and it included wet navy officers. No admirals, but there was a captain, four commanders, and three lieutenant commanders in my class. I picked up a lot of information from them. Surface ships, obviously," he chuckled, "no submarines in space! But the US Navy did have a ground force, and I can see where one might be needed. I doubt we'll invade a planet, but boarding an enemy ship? Or repelling an attempt to board one of ours? The extees want technology, so capturing one of our ships intact would be the brass ring for them.

"I already have an idea of what a space combat force should be. Carriers, obviously; it doesn't make sense to build bunches of huge ships capable of interstellar voyages. Which may be necessary at some point, but right now we don't need them because we don't have people to operate them. The carriers would need to be large enough to carry a hundred smaller craft, probably destroyers like the one I flew. We won't be able to just turn around and head for port, which means our port facilities will have to go with us. That means we'll need a few large ships that can keep a fleet supplied and do necessary maintenance. Other things I haven't thought of yet."

"I'm interested in flying a ship," said Mak, "but I could probably help train that space force's ground component. Got a name for them yet? Marines?"

"Rangers, for now," Matt decided. "And based on what you did on Darwin, you're qualified. You'll need to integrate a lot of military-specific downloads, but that shouldn't be a problem. Contact Central and see what it suggests. You'll find them useful, even if you change your mind later. How about your previous download, the one before your last trip into space?"

"Fully integrated now, but it wouldn't have done much good back then; the reactor needed a factory overhaul. I could have made better use of the matter converter if I'd known more about how it works. In essence, it's a small fusion reactor with the capability to generate very powerful forces; so long as you feed it pure hydrogen, it produces more electricity than it consumes. The only reason it won't gobble up anything and run forever is that the external protective field draws a lot of current. Converting iron and anything heavier is a net loss; it consumes more energy than it generates. In practical terms, that means shipboard units need a lot of hydrogen, which we didn't have. Breaking chemical bonds, okay; transforming heavier nuclei, nope. But back to why I wanted to see you. I want my own ship, but I'm also hoping there's something I can do to help you. Space force, navy, whatever you call it; but if you think I'd be more help as one of those rangers, then that's what I'll do."

"No question, I can use you. How about as my assistant? Or deputy? I'm only getting started, I can use the help."

"Deputy sounds good. As long as I get to fly."

Mak took his leave and Matt leaned back, thinking. He collected a large mug of coffee, then contacted Central via his chip. "We've been concentrating on defending ourselves from raiders. Sooner or later they're going to get here, maybe hit us in our past. But suppose we turn the tables and hit them in their past?"

Central's voice allowed for no doubt: <That is not possible.>

"We can't attack them, but they can attack us? That doesn't make sense. Explain."

<They can attack Prime, but not in Prime's past.>

"Explain."

<You do not understand how the jumpers work. There are limitations.>

"Do I need memory implants to understand?"

That was a preview of Defending Eden: Book Five, the Darwin's World Series. To read the rest purchase the book.

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