The Lord of the Sands of Time (10 page)

“Yes.”

“Is there a way to totally eliminate all these delays?”

“Subjugate the planet. You know that.” Orville knew. The quickest, simplest solution would be for them to simply notify humanity that they would be taking over all administrative and communication functions. But since this would clearly earn the Messengers a huge amount of hostility, the fact that they had considered it—and had the capability to make that decision a reality—was kept secret.

To hijack Earth, to trample on the fundamental dignity of humanity in this timestream, would be going too far. As it was, the Messengers had already interfered extensively, changing far too much history. At this very moment they were excavating ore deposits that were not supposed to be discovered for another century and altering relationships and genealogies that would otherwise have remained unbroken for two centuries. It was impossible to forecast the impact such actions might have. Their orders were to save humanity, even if it meant rewriting history entirely. But should they do it?

The Messengers decided policy questions via simple majority rule. Any Upstreamer Force AI could call for a referendum on any proposal. With full data presence, the whole process took less than a minute. But Orville never submitted a proposal to take over Earth. Sayaka’s convictions about human history somehow weighed heavily on him. During the next three months, other AIs twice called for votes on taking over Earth, but each time the proposal failed to attract even 30 percent support.

The Messengers would regret their decision. But that was later, eleven months after the Messengers’ arrival, when the ET onslaught began.

In March of 2210, over a period of twenty hours 14,000 light sources topping 100 million degrees—thermonuclear propulsion signatures—were detected in the asteroid belt. The lights were distributed around the compass. Five hundred more were detected at the same time in the vicinity of Jupiter, shuttling at tremendous velocity between the gas giant and the asteroids. The Messengers immediately issued their highest-level alert and began analyzing the data. It took half a day to reach their conclusion. The ET’s strategy was time-consuming yet simple: to overwhelm humanity’s defenses and wipe out the planet by simultaneously launching huge numbers of small asteroids on a collision course with Earth. A saturation attack, ancient and brutally straightforward.

The analyst AIs surmised that the ET had arrived in this era before the Messengers and sought concealment, probably to avoid having their customary invasion buildup blocked by the later-arriving Upstream Force; they’d hidden among the moons of Jupiter. Using their propulsion systems only when Jupiter shielded them from Earth, they’d deployed troops and thermonuclear fuel throughout the asteroid belt. While preparing to turn the asteroids into missiles, they had also dispatched a small recon team to Earth’s surface. Once the team had completed their target selection, they had fed their data to the asteroid belt by burst transmission and then self-terminated. This had been the cause of the “random” laser firings. As soon as preparations were complete, the asteroids were launched
en masse
toward Earth; once concealment was no longer needed, the ET operated openly from their Jupiter bases to create additional asteroid missiles as fast as possible.

The enemy neutralized the orbital momentum of the asteroids and sent them in free fall toward Earth. The earlier intercept could be achieved, the smaller the warhead needed to divert an asteroid from its trajectory toward Earth, so the Upstreamer Force fired all their thermonuclear and antiproton warheads toward the asteroids and at the moons of Jupiter, overwhelming the 14,000 asteroids heading toward them. Still, there was little chance of total success and no margin for error. Even a single asteroid strike would cause untold damage on Earth.

Humanity’s first reaction was to condemn the Messengers for not detecting the threat sooner. Even a child could guess the enemy might use asteroids to strike Earth. The Messengers responded that such a strategy was highly unusual; the ET had never resorted to it during the wars of the twenty-sixth century. In that era, they had taken possession of the Sun and were always completely reliant on large inputs of solar energy. They had never tried something as laborious and inefficient as drawing hydrogen from Jupiter for nuclear fusion. This time as well, the enemy must have actually preferred solar power. This new and different strategy, one that barely met their energy needs, must have been a huge gamble.

Still, there was no denying that the Messengers had blundered. They had brought technology and power from the future—and a high-handed attitude—yet they had been easily outmaneuvered by the enemy. From this point forward, a dark shadow fell over their alliance with Earth.

The fleet’s all-out attack was 99.586 percent successful. Fifty-eight asteroids still drifted toward Earth on flattened parabolic trajectories. Though they had exhausted their supplies of antimatter, more nuclear weapons were available. But these were controlled by Earth, and so the balance of power between the allies shifted definitively. Earth’s new demands astonished the Messengers: overall command authority, handover of principal fleet elements, transfer of all military and civilian technology. Earth even demanded the right to determine overall policy, now and in the future, out of respect for humanity as ancestors.
We are your progenitors. You exist only because of us. Never forget that debt of gratitude. Defer to our wisdom.

All this seemed to be, and in fact probably was, the irrational response of a desperate humanity venting its pent-up bitterness. But the Messengers yielded to all of Earth’s demands. Their orders were to save humanity by any means possible—even if they had to bear the insults of barbarians from the past. This was no time for petty squabbling.

So, after several weeks spent retrofitting the ships’ living quarters to accommodate humans, fleet elements carrying nuclear weapons supplied by Earth conducted attacks under the command of UN Forces officers. These men of Earth acquitted themselves admirably. They may have relied heavily on the Messengers to offset their own rudimentary data-gathering capabilities, but they deployed their warheads accurately and successfully repelled the incoming asteroids. Humanity was defending itself. Their officers were jubilant, and the people of Earth went wild with joy at the news.

Then, in an instant, they plunged from heaven to hell.

They discovered that the ET had inserted cloaked spore colonies through a gap in the off-world surveillance network—a gap created by the difficulties and disputes with humanity. It was assumed that the enemy did not have the ability to interpret the subtleties of human civilization; they probably discovered the gaps in the network based on communication traffic patterns and by movements of the fleet. By the time they were discovered, at least ten colonies had reached maturity on every continent. They began launching attacks on major urban centers and military installations.

Humanity was taken completely by surprise. Confusion reigned, and the Messengers were powerless. Measures to strengthen Earth’s land-based forces had made little headway in the face of human opposition. Even the few nations participating in the defense structure had neither the right nor the means to quell the turmoil taking place beyond their borders. The ET colonies used local energy sources to increase their numbers. Using solar energy, coal, oil, natural gas, and other forms of energy, they built what they required from common, easily processed substances like iron and silicon. Their individual military capabilities were several ranks below those of their brethren in space, who had developed to a much greater level of sophistication, but they were far harder to deal with in groups. They had been bred for effective concealment in the terrain. Again and again, Earth’s forces were routed.

After less than two months, the desolation was visible even from orbit. Forests and cities burned, sending huge plumes of smoke high into the atmosphere. Titanic craters, the aftermath of nuclear strikes by Earth’s forces, were scattered across the surface. After nightfall, instead of the dazzling city lights that once adorned the planet, an eerie orange glow from vast fires and the stabbing flashes of artillery flickered across the darkened land.

Cutty spoke again. “The unit defending Sherwood Evacuation Station in the North Sea has ceased to exist, apparently due to the attack on Mars.”

“The attack on Mars?” asked Chan wearily. Chan was the human officer sitting opposite Orville. He had been dispatched by the government of Shanghai to assist Orville and was coordinating the evacuation of civilians to this floating city. Orville answered for Cutty.

“We came from the future. The Messengers in the unit that disappeared were created by someone in that future. That someone had an ancestor in this era. That ancestor was probably on Mars.”

“Wait, so that means those Messengers were never created? How is it possible that we knew of their existence? I get it…this is one of those time paradoxes,” said Chan.

“Our research scientists believe it’s possible for us to know those Messengers existed because their existence was imprinted on this timestream when it branched off from the original stream,” replied Orville. “Upstreaming time travelers are hybrids—they have attributes of the new timestream and their original timestream—and the relative strength of events and experience in each stream influences how the new stream plays out. You’d have to do a probability analysis based on upstream theory. Don’t ask me more, I’m not an expert.”

“Don’t tell me more, because I didn’t understand a word you just said,” replied Chan. They laughed cynically. Chan was one of the few from Earth who had been willing to help.

Cutty broke in: “We have the upper hand in space, but the depletion of our units due to interstream interference effects is starting to have an influence. It’s touch and go whether we will eradicate the enemy, or whether the reduction in our forces will tip the balance and allow the enemy to replicate back up to strength.”

“And even if we do prevail offworld,” said Chan, “we can’t do a thing about the enemy here on the surface. Correct?” Cutty did not respond. No answer was needed.

Orville downed his tea and stood up. “I’d better get moving. The landing stage at Ningpo should be coming under attack right about now.”

“Mr. O, uhm, Orville. I have a favor to ask you.”

Orville turned. This was only the second time Chan had used his real name instead of his code name in the month since they had first met. Chan gripped his teacup and spoke in a low voice:

“Is there room for a human passenger aboard one of those ships of yours?”

Orville’s eyes narrowed. “I never thought I’d hear that from you,” he said stiffly.

“Not me. My wife. She’s with child.”

Orville froze. Chan stood and grabbed him by the arm with enough strength to make even cyborg bones creak.

“You have room, don’t you? Room for one. Some of the ships were fitted out for human officers. For pity’s sake…!”

“Protecting your wife is your responsibility,” said Orville, his tone reluctant, officious.

“There’s no way. It’s impossible. We all know that. We can’t stop them. This city can’t stand up to a sustained attack from their air units. We’ll be wiped out. But isn’t your mission to prevent that? To save humanity, no matter what? To protect someone carrying new life is consistent with your mission, even if she is my wife. Am I wrong?”

“And if we do take her aboard? What then?” Orville’s voice was barely audible. “Where could we take her? Is any place safe? Mars is under attack too. There’s nowhere to go. We can’t take passengers like Noah’s Ark.”

“Take her to the past.”

Orville reflexively shook himself free. He’d heard enough. He didn’t want to be any more coldhearted than he had to be. But as he fled out the door, Chan called after him, his voice full of wretchedness, like some vengeful ghost. “Please, take her with you! Take her to the past, where they can’t follow! You can do it. I know you want to!”

As he ran through the streets of this floating city of refugees who squatted, exhausted, in the streets with nothing but the clothes they had escaped in, Orville suppressed the urge to cry out.
Yes, that’s right, we’re going further into the past, to make amends for this debacle, to start over from scratch. In other words, we’re going to turn tail and run. And we’re leaving humanity behind.

He climbed a metal ladder to the top of the wall surrounding the city. A ship jammed with refugees was docking. Another vessel bristling with antiaircraft guns passed on its way out to sea. Far off, a solid wall of black cloud stretched across the western horizon like the peaks of a mountain range. The cities of China’s maritime provinces were burning. The low-quality materials used by the land-based ET prevented them from operating in water, but as Chan had said, it was only a matter of time before they overwhelmed the floating cities with mass-produced airborne FET.

Orville noticed he was grinding his teeth. Why were the ET so bent on destruction? What in the world
were
they?

“Assignments for the next Upstreamer detachment have been issued. You’re on the list, Orville. Please report to the assembly point. I will accompany you and leave this world to the subunits.” In other words, Cutty had also abandoned hope for this Earth. She knew there was no future for this timestream.

Orville murmured mechanically, “Chan’s wife, could we take her?”

“Transporting a human into the past is of no utility for humanity. I can’t agree to it.”

“No utility, but no harm either,” said Orville.

“She’s not Sayaka. You know that, don’t you?”

“Cutty, you—” A howl of fury died in his throat. Orville fell to one knee and began to weep.