The Zen Gun

6

On board the ICS Standard Bearer the command staff also watched the behaviour of Earth’s moon in perplexity. Having mopped up those fugitives who had fled to the fourth planet, they had held back from pursuing the sole blip to be seen plunging into Earth’s atmosphere, believing they were about to witness one of the rarest sights: the destruction of an inhabited world through planetary collision. The business was made more eerie by the absence of the panicky exodus one might have expected; but this, Archier learned, was due to all available ships having left for Mars several days earlier.

Now the satellite was half a million miles from its onetime primary, and appeared to be following an “independent orbit about the sun. Yet at its closest it had practically ploughed through Earth’s atmosphere!

“Well,” Archier said to his chief engineer, the only crew member he could think of who might be an expert in such matters, “is it possible?”

“What, Admiral?”

“Is it possible for gravity to cease between two orbiting bodies?”

The chief engineer, a rangy gorilla, scratched his head in puzzlement. “No sir, it isn’t. When two bodies gravitate the whole weight of the universe is behind them, so to speak. I don’t understand it.”

“There’s got to be an explanation.”

“Well never mind about that now,” Gruwert squealed. “Our orders are to hunt down rebels. It’s safe to move in now so let’s get on with it.”

“First of all we shall have to reply to Earth Council.”

The ships of Ten-Fleet were again beginning to gather round their flagship, a fact that had not escaped notice on Earth. For once, the presence of an Imperial fleet caused more comfort than alarm. Since Earth and the moon now shared nearly the same orbit in ignorance of one another, it would only be a matter of time before they did collide. Plans were already afoot to disintegrate the errant satellite or direct it into the sun. The fleet had been requested to render assistance with a planet-buster bomb.

The request had caused Archier wry amusement. It was universally assumed all Imperial fleets had magazines full of planet-busters. In fact Ten-Fleet did not have any at all. Their production had always been strictly limited and since the onset of the robot strike replacement of their degradable cores had very nearly ceased. He had heard Seventeen-Fleet still had a few in working order.

He turned to Arctus. “Tell them it would be too dangerous to disintegrate the satellite at one blow. Too many pieces would be flying around. Tell them to work out a solution using conventional FE.”

A voice sounded in his ear. “Claire de Lune has joined formation, Admiral.”

“What? She was supposed to have been abandoned.”

“Evidently not.”

“What’s her report?”

“No word from her at all yet. I think her communications are out.”

“Well they’ll sort it out, I suppose.” He was about to give the mental “turning away” signal when his caller, the Fleet Manoeuvres Officer, continued: “Actually that isn’t what I really called to tell you. The Fast Barge is approaching. We’ve received its blazon burst.”

Archier didn’t reply at once. A shiver of nervousness went through him.

“How soon?”

“Within the hour.”

“All right, FMO. Thank you.”

He sat brooding. Then he turned to those around him. “Did you all catch that?”

They nodded.

“It looks,” he said, “as if we might finally find out what’s been going on in Diadem…”

The Fast Barge was the property of the now defunct High Command. Consisting of little more than living quarters and a gigantic feetol drive unit, it was capable of reaching almost any part of the Empire in a remarkably short time. Ostensibly its purpose was to assist in state occasions in the outer parts of the Empire. In reality it was kept in reserve for use in an emergency, to carry messages too important or too risky to send by leader tone transmission, or as a getaway vehicle…

As the barge slowed down and passed the outskirts of the planetary system, its leader tone blazon announced the presence of dignitaries aboard. Minutes later Archier, in full dress uniform, waited in the reception bay with his other command officers as the barge drew alongside.

It was an impressive sight as seen on the wall screen. Nearly as big as the flagship itself, it was gridded and grilled with designs of gold and rose-pink. The shape was unusual: resembling more than anything else some over-lavishly petalled flower or orchid and owing nothing to utility.

There was a resonant splang as the connecting passage between the two ships sprang into place. Padding through the broad opening came a party headed by two tall and broad-shouldered men of mature years whom Archier instantly recognised: they were the Admiral Overlords Crane and Oblescu, members of the High Command Staff. But instead of dress uniform they were wearing office-attire that looked stained and crumpled. Their faces were weary, even overwrought.

An assortment of animals accompanied them: a rather scruffy enlarged mouse that scuttled alongside Crane, whiskers twitching; two dogs, a small horse and a sad-looking panda. Archier saluted smartly. Casually, the overlords responded.

“By space, but I need a pick-me-up,” Crane said, “Can we go and relax somewhere? Being on that barge is like riding a roller-coaster.”

“Of course, sir,” Archier said stiffly. He waved back the others of his command staff and conducted the overlords to the small travelator coach that was waiting. Only the mouse—adjutant to one of the overlords, he presumed—followed them, climbing in the back of the vehicle alongside Arctus.

They zipped into the innards of the flagship, arriving at a small reception lounge Archier used for informal Force meetings. Crane and Oblescu slumped down immediately on chair-couches, while Arctus opened up the hospitality cabinet.

“What would you like, overlords?” he asked softly. “Imbibables? Smoke? Sprays or airs?”

“Give me a hash fizz,” Oblescu said, “and make it good and strong.”

Crane nodded in answer to Arctus’ questioning trunk. The little elephant busied himself, pouring a delicate lavender fluid into three tall goblets and pressurising it with cannabis gas until it frothed.

Having quaffed and asked for more, the overlords relaxed a little. “Well, you’d better know the reason why we’re here,” Crane said, his tone one of tired resignation. “First of all, you know High Command doesn’t really exist anymore?”

Archier nodded, toying with his goblet. “I had guessed the staff has been sent out to the fleets.”

“Oh, it was only partly that. The Command was really shut down because the Imperial Council doesn’t trust it any more! Things are in chaos in Diadem, the Council itself has practically collapsed. The Whole-Earth-Biotists have come to the fore again. You might as well know there’s practically a civil war in the making. They’re talking about bringing back the Emperor Protector. This time he’s to be a Whole-Earth chimera. Genes from every permitted animal will be incorporated. If they ,get their way, that is.”

Archier took the news with as much equanimity as he could. He had Protector sympathies himself. He was, however, far from being a Whole-Earth-Biotist. He had taken it for granted that the Protector would have one hundred per cent human genes.

“But what has this got to do with High Command?” he queried.

“Aagh.” Crane gave a gesture of exasperation, which slopped fizz on his already stained uniform. “The Council ordered fleets Three and Twenty-Nine recalled so it could be sure of maintaining order. Then it came to light Seventeen and Twenty-Nine are riddled with Biotist sympathisers. Can you imagine what this did to High Command in the Council’s eyes? To top it all Carusier defected to the Biotists. An Admiral Overlord! Pending a review, the Council doesn’t trust Star Force at all now. It wants all the fleets kept out of Diadem, though personally I think only Seventeen and Twenty—Nine are affected.”

“Only?” Archier echoed. “Isn’t that enough?”

Arctus had stood paralysed with shock while the Admiral Overlord spoke. He turned and muttered something to the mouse, who shook his head dolefully.

“How could this happen?” Archier asked in anguish. He looked from one overlord to the other. “What went wrong?”

Oblescu jumped to his feet and paced the room. His face was distraught. “There are just too many problems! The fleets unable to handle things any longer, uprisings all over the place—Escoria hasn’t been the only one! We simply don’t have proper resources available any more! What with that and the lack of proper political organisation in Diadem… the state has been falling to pieces for some time. And now this latest disaster is one shock too many.”

“Disaster? What disaster?” Archier put down his drink.

“That’s the reason we are here,” Crane said. “Ten-Fleet has a rather special job to do. There’s something extraordinary been going on in a region some thirty light-years galactic west of here.”

He paused, as if wondering how to break the news. “We have a feetol research station not far from there. We think the work it’s been doing must have caused it. They weren’t trying to get into the Simplex… only to advance the state of the art, stretching recession lines still farther for a faster future generation of Star Force ships. They must have gone too far. Space has opened up. There is some sort of rent in it, about a light year across and getting bigger. Do you grasp my meaning? The Simplex is on the other side of it! The scientists say once three-dimensional space starts to tear like that it might all come undone.” He clapped a hand on his forehead. “Our universe could roll up like a scroll, as the saying is!”

While Arctus deftly and silently presented fresh drinks, Archier stared at Crane in bewilderment bordering on disbelief. “But I’ve never heard anything to suggest the feetol drive could damage spacetime like this,” he objected.

“No, no one thought it could.”

“Well what is required of me?”

“Ah. Well, the Council wants you to proceed in the direction of the rent and investigate. We didn’t want to send it over the spacewaves—the whole thing has been hushed up, naturally—so I had orders to deliver the message personally. Having done that, I personally plan to retire in some out-of-the-way spot.” Crane shrugged. “Of course, as you’re in Condition Autonomy, you can really do what you like. In fact, as we belong to a defunct command we don’t even outrank you any more!”

“I shall do what’s required,” Archier said slowly, “but this is a war fleet. I haven’t any real scientists with me, unless there are some among the passengers.”

“Yes, well I hadn’t quite finished explaining. We have others working on the scientific aspects of the problem. Your role is military. I said there was nothing but the Simplex on the other side, didn’t I? That isn’t strictly true. There’s some very strange stuff or entities or something coming through the rent, investing planets and causing chaos. We’re being invaded from another facet, in other words.”

“Then it’s true!” Arctus trumpeted, forgetting his place. “There are other facets!”

“Of course,” the mouse said in a measured, only slightly squeaky voice. “What else?”

“For the first time since its foundation,” Oblescu put in, “the Empire faces an external rather than internal threat. You’d think that would be enough to pull it together. Instead…” He trailed off.

“There’s been an odd happening here too.” Archier said. He explained about Earth’s moon. “Do you think there’s any connection?” he finished.

Crane nodded gravely. “There has to be. There isn’t any other explanation. Still, I’m surprised. This is so much further away than any of—the other phenomena we’ve heard about.”

“The influence is spreading,” Oblescu said.

“You call it an invasion,” Archier commented, “but is it really that? What is taking place, exactly?”

“Information is vague. We don’t think what’s coming through is even matter in the way we understand it. It’s not even composed of atoms. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? Other facets wouldn’t necessarily have the same composition as our own.”

Archier brooded. “I’m at something of a loss. My previous orders also had some urgency. The Oracle says there’s a weapon here in Escoria capable of destroying the Empire. Perhaps that’s more important.”

“Oh yes, we’re supposed to tell you the Oracle has made two more pronouncements concerning the supposed ‘weapon.’ It has been there a long time, and It has been disregarded because it is small. Make of it what you will. The Council wants you to give priority to the space rent thing. But as I said, since you’re in Condition Autonomy—”

“I’ll do as the Council says, of course,” Archier said curtly. “Just as long as they are aware of what my previous orders were.”

“Yes. Look, do you mind if we rest up on the flagship for a few hours? Then we’ll make off on the Barge again, and find some little retreat for ourselves.”

Archier was puzzled. “You’re not going back to Diadem? Don’t you want to do what you can to help the Empire?”

“I’ve already told you, we’re not trusted! We’ve been dismissed! They wouldn’t even have given us this little job if it had had any political overtones.”

“I see. Well, my adjutant will take you to some staterooms.”

Crane rose. He and Oblescu sauntered to the door, followed by the mouse. Before he left, Crane turned casually.

“If you make a good job of this, young feller, I dare say you’ll receive promotion when a new High Command is put together. How do you fancy being an Admiral Overlord, eh?”

He laughed. But Archier could not raise a smile.

When he informed his command staff of developments, Archier was met mainly with stunned silence. Gruwert, however became excited.

“It has been disregarded, because it is small,” he repeated. “Now there’s something to think on! You know what this means? The ‘weapon’ isn’t a weapon at all! If it were a small weapon, it couldn’t destroy an empire, that’s obvious. And ‘It has been there a long time’. What are the most dangerous things; politically, sometimes lying dormant for centuries? Ideas, of course! What we are faced with is a political idea that’s about to burst forth and give us trouble. Pre-emptive annihilation is the best way to deal with a threat like that!”

“Do you mean of all Escoria?” The image of a giraffe, relayed from The Peaceful Star, turned to him in Archier’s conference room.

“Certainly, if we can’t track it down and stamp it out any other way.”

“Actually, the rumoured weapon has become a secondary consideration,” Archier said, surprised by the Fire Command Officer’s reaction. “Don’t you think we should address ourselves first to the invasion from the Simplex?”

The pig snuffled in what sounded like annoyance. “we should take no notice of it,” he said finally. “It’s a natural phenomenon, like an earthquake or a star blowing. What can we do about that?”

Gruwert wasn’t able to grasp the significance of it, Archier realised. Like all animals, he lacked the imagination. Only the humans present seemed really frightened.

“Perhaps, but we’re going to have to forget about our task here in Escoria for the time being,” he said. “The Imperial Council takes the space rent even more seriously, and therefore so shall we.”

“Wait a minute!” Gruwert objected furiously. “What about apprehending rebels? There’s one on Earth just waiting to be nabbed! We can’t just move off and let him go free! It isn’t competent!”

Archier reflected. “You’re probably right. In any case, not all the fleet has reported in yet. We shan’t be ready to move for several hours.” He turned to Brigadier Carson of the Drop Commando. “You may make a drop. But be back in ten hours or less.”

The last he heard, as he switched off the conference room, was Gruwert lustily pleading with Carson to let him accompany the mission.