Gary Gibson - Final Days

Fowler found his attention drawn to clouds of dark steam shrouding the structure at the point where it rose out of the waters. From what his analysts had been able to tell him, its apparent rate of growth was so great that it might have attained this enormous size within days. There was even reason to believe it had spread roots deep into the Earth’s crust, which might account for the overwhelmingly violent seismic activity that would shortly be contributing to the near-extinction of the human race.

‘There’s nothing like that thing in the oceans anywhere on Earth,’ said Fairhurst, his voice rising.

‘Not yet, no,’ Fowler agreed. ‘Here’s more, recorded by our own sci-eval teams, after they’d passed through the CTC gate leading back to our near future.’

Images now appeared of the airless ruins of Copernicus City, and these were followed by high-definition orbital images of the Earth’s scarred and lifeless surface. Photographs, taken under high magnification from orbit, showed dozens more flower-like structures pushing through the cloud cover over land and sea. Much of the land was wreathed in smoke like ash, and what little remained visible had clearly been scorched empty of life. All in all, it looked like a vision of hell.

‘I still don’t understand,’ said Fairhurst, squinting as if in pain. ‘You’re saying this has already happened?’

‘Is going to happen,’ Inez corrected. The images continued to cycle through, like the holiday snapshots of a dark and vengeful god.

Inez sat back then, and Fowler picked up where he’d left off. ‘Once we’d established the wormhole link back to our own near future, we found no signs of life anywhere on Luna or Earth. Whoever uploaded that montage to the transceivers did it as a warning.’

‘But . . . what could possibly have caused this?’ Fairhurst blurted.

‘To be frank,’ Fowler replied, ‘we have no idea. It seems obvious the growths and the devastation are linked, although we can’t say for certain one caused the other. But it does seem likely.’

‘But how?’ Fairhurst demanded. ‘Was it a meteor, something like that?’

Fowler shook his head. ‘There’s no impact crater, so no. There’s no trace of radioactivity in the near-future atmosphere that might suggest some kind of nuclear bombardment; nothing but the growths, and a lot of ash. Apart from those few slivers of information, we’re as much in the dark as you are. All we know is that the end is coming, far, far sooner than anyone realizes.’

Kaur stared at him, his face pale. ‘So just how long do we have?’ he finally managed to ask.

‘Less than three weeks, possibly only two. Ever since we made these discoveries, we’ve been working on an emergency evacuation programme for essential personnel. If you can help us with certain matters, I can guarantee safe passage for yourselves and your immediate families, at the very least.’

‘I know this is hard for you to take in,’ Dana Paxton spoke up for the first time, ‘but I’ve been through the CTC gate to our future, myself. So has Mr Lagerlöf. There were hundreds of these flower-like growths scattered all across the globe. We dropped a number of winged drones into the atmosphere from orbit, but they always slipped out of contact after just a few minutes.’

‘So whatever did this,’ mumbled Kaur, ‘whatever force brought this about, it’s still down there?’

‘That’s the only reasonable assumption,’ Paxton agreed. ‘We had some of the same problems when it came to exploring the near-future Moon, but we were at least able to investigate the remains of Copernicus City with remote probes. Given the circumstances, you can understand how we were ready to shut down the gate leading back to Tau Ceti the instant we came under attack. Luckily, we never had to. But if you do decide you want to see all this for yourselves first-hand, I’ll be responsible for your safety.’

‘We’re facing an extinction event,’ added Fowler, ‘and if it wasn’t for the existence of the interstellar colonies, the human race would be finished. We can save some of the people back home, and here on the Moon, but not all. Our responsibility from here on is to make sure the colonies survive.’

‘Three weeks?’ echoed Fairhurst, sounding like he was having trouble getting the words out.

Kaur’s skin had taken on a waxen quality. ‘And we’ll be allowed to bring our families through the Array – if we help you in some way?’

Fowler nodded.

‘Surely there must be some way to prevent this,’ Fairhurst protested.

‘Possibly,’ Fowler replied. ‘Or, at least, it would be monstrous of us not to try. Which brings me to my next point: we need your help in locating a missing shipment.’

Fowler held the whisky at the back of his mouth, rolling it around his tongue before finally swallowing it down. Amanda had collapsed into the chair opposite, settling slowly into the cushions under the lunar gravity. Behind her, a window of Fowler’s apartment looked towards the tall peaks rising at the centre of the Copernicus Crater. Much of the city was buried deep beneath the regolith, but a significant number of buildings, whose financiers could afford the extra shielding, rose to a considerable height.

‘I spoke with Anderson at the Coalition Security Council,’ he said, staring out the window. ‘You’ll be thrilled to know he still thinks we can pull a rabbit out of a hat and save the day.’

‘He really thinks we can change what’s already happened?’

He finally glanced over at her. ‘Can you blame him? Look at Fairhurst – he’s probably already convinced himself our meeting never even happened, and both of them are cut from the same cloth.’ He studied the glass in his hand. ‘Even so, the heads of all three Republics have agreed to making some kind of joint public announcement.’

‘When?’

Fowler shrugged. ‘That’s the question, isn’t it? My guess is they’ll wait until it’s obvious to everyone else that something terrible is happening.’ He thought of some of the atmospheric phenomena recorded by the probes studying the devastated future Earth: bright twists of light that some interpreted as distortions of space and time, and others considered as evidence of some non-material intelligence.

He noticed her shiver. ‘Maybe there’s a chance it isn’t too late,’ she said. ‘Maybe we can still stop this from ever happening. Maybe that’s why someone left us that warning, because they knew there was still a way.’

‘How?’ Fowler shook his head. ‘By going back into the past and changing things? Can’t be done. Remember your Novikov.’

‘Yes, I know.’ She sounded irritated. ‘If an event can bring about a paradox—’

‘Then the probability of that event taking place is zero,’ he finished for her. ‘Or were you thinking about alternate timelines? They’re a fiction, and there’s nothing we can do to change the inevitable.’

He quickly drained the last of his whisky; no telling when he’d next get the opportunity for another. To his irritation, the glow of the alcohol failed to chase away the clamminess of his skin.

‘Now for some of that news I’ve been saving,’ he said. ‘We’ve identified your survivor – the one your people brought back from the near future.’

She gripped her glass in both hands, the knuckles turning pale. ‘And?’

‘His name is Mitchell Stone. He used to be under Hanover’s command.’

They’d found him preserved inside an experimental cryogenics unit on Luna, ten years in the future. He’d been the only living thing left alive, and there were many, many questions they wanted to ask him.

‘But he’s—’

‘The same Mitchell Stone who suffered what should have been a fatal accident at Site 17 just a few weeks ago,’ he agreed. ‘And now,’ he arched an eyebrow, ‘thanks to the vagaries of time travel, we have two Mitchell Stones in existence at once, both recovering from separate incidents.’