“Of course, theoretically, we are always moving in time,” Berx said, finally feeling the wine taking effect.
“That’s the principle behind the propulsion cores in our starships. Or at least I believe that’s how they work.”
He turned to Erx for help, but not much was forthcoming. “I think the propulsion core creates some kind of exception in the fabric of time that allows us to enter the faster dimension and move great distances quickly. Is that it?”
Berx just shrugged. “I think so.”
“You really don’t know?” Hunter asked them.
Both men shook their heads.
“No, not really,” Erx admitted. Clearly this was a source of embarrassment for them.
“It all has to do with the Big Generator,” Berx said. “You’ve never heard of that either, I suppose?”
Hunter just shook his head no.
“Well, it’s a very complicated thing,” Erx began sputtering. “But because of it, our ships fly and our weapons work, every planet can be sustained, and we can travel to the farthest reaches of the Galaxy in just weeks. But the truth is, we are not privy to the great secrets that it holds — or even where it is located.”
Hunter thought a moment. “Are you saying this Big Generator has an effect on just about everything you do… yet you don’t know how it works?”
Erx and Berx stared back at him for a long moment. Then they drained their mugs and in unison said: “Bingo…”
3
They ate their stew and drank their fill of wine.
Then once Erx and Berx had recovered somewhat, the three of them climbed up the mountain behind Hunter’s dwelling.
It was about three thousand feet high, but he’d carved a trail along its slope one day, ensuring a steady but easy climb. Still, this would be the longest distance Erx and Berx had walked in many decades. True, they were interstellar explorers. But the vast majority of their Galactic travel had been done on the seat of their pants.
No surprise, then that they were out of breath and sweating heavily by the time they neared the summit.
“My God,” Erx said, slumping next to a conveniently shady rock. “Does this planet have any oxygen at all?”
Berx checked his quadtrol. “All of the vital readings are very low and there is an atmosphere leak of more than ten percent.”
“Do you know when was the last time this planet was ‘puffed,’ Mister Hunter?”
“I don’t know what puffing means,” Hunter replied simply.
“Every planet in the Galaxy has been puffed at one time or another,” Berx explained. “The Ancient Engineers used to call it ‘terra-forming,’ I think. It means the planet’s biosphere has been altered to fit human habitation.”
“Why do you think you can walk around out here without an oxygen tank to breathe from, my friend?” Erx asked. “Or a spacesuit to protect you from the rays?”
Hunter just shrugged. It was a good question.
“I guess I never thought about it before,” he said.
Erx wiped his forehead of perspiration. “I envy your lack of knowledge,” he said wearily. “Sometimes I think I know too much.”
On the other side of the mountain was a vast salt plain. It stretched, nearly unbroken, to the far horizon.
About twenty miles to the east were the remains of an enormous starship. It was sticking out of the ground at a seventy-degree angle. Its monstrous tail went up at least a mile into the sky, so high, clouds were forming around its top.
There was no real mystery how the massive vessel had wound up in this position. When it came down here, the vast salt plain had been a small ocean, and Hunter’s mountain quite possibly no more than the tip of an island. The starship had hit the water at hypersonic speed — and kept on going. Driving itself deep into the soft sea bottom, it stopped only when it reached a depth of a half mile or so.
Had the impact contributed to the quick retreat of the ocean’s waters? It was a good guess. But why hadn’t the ship’s prop core blown up? Mostly likely the crew had been able to shut it down before they even entered the atmosphere.
Or then again, maybe something else had happened…
Erx held his quadtrol out in front of him now and began reading information from its readout screen.
“Mister Hunter is right,” he announced. “This wreck has been here at least three hundred years. It’s a regal S-Class design. Old Empire markings…”
He paused a moment. “My God, its name is the Jupiterus XVI…”
“Jupiterus?” Berx said. “Are you sure?”
Erx showed him the quadtrol’s readout. They looked back at the massive ship with new, if troubled interest.
“That’s no ordinary spacecraft,” Erx said urgently to Berx. “It’s a Kaon Bombardment ship.”
Kaons? Hunter had never heard the term.
“What was this ship’s function?” he asked them.
Erx and Berx exchanged a worried glance.
“I’m afraid that’s a state secret,” Erx said. “As officers in the Empire’s military forces, we can’t really tell you more than that. Suffice to say, it was a weapons system of incredible power. Then and now.”
“I should have figured that,” Hunter said, looking out at the ship now. “Not only did I build my aircraft’s body from parts reassembled from that wreck, I built its power plants from the salvage as well. Interesting…”
He checked the sky. It was getting dark, and a stiff breeze was blowing up. In less than an hour, it would be a howling gale. Then the rains would come and the sands would blow. The combination could cut a man to pieces in minutes. Fools 6 was not a place to be traveled at night.
“Time to head back,” he announced. “I hope you’ve seen enough.”
The two spacemen assured him they had. But as Hunter moved away back down the trail, Erx grabbed Berx and asked him in an urgent whisper: “Is it possible that he reassembled some of the Kaon Bombardment system components to power his craft? Could that be why his aircraft flies the way it does?”
Berx nervously ran a hand over his bald dome.
“It’s a good question,” he replied. “But I’m not sure we want to know the answer.”
4
The rescue ship arrived two days later.
It had picked up the SOS signal sent out by Erx and Berx right before their ship went in. As the closest military vessel of any size to Fools 6, this vessel had diverted from its course and appeared soon after the red giant’s morning sunrise.
The ship’s captain was a highly decorated star commander named Zap Multx. He was a ninety-seven-year veteran of the Fourth Empire’s Space Navy. He was a huge, imposing man nearly twice the size of either Erx or Berx. His head was shaved in the style of the time, and he sported a very long, thin goatee. His vessel was the BonoVox, an M-Class battle cruiser. It was a massive warship, two miles long and 3.5 million tons earthweight. Like all Empire starships, it was shaped like a gigantic wedge.
A small city of glass-bubble control decks dominated its upper shell, hundreds of weapons systems studded its immense fuselage below.
The BonoVox also was a troop carrier. More than twenty-two thousand Space Marines were quartered in its lower decks. Essentially these soldiers were Multx’s private army. They were highly trained, highly motivated, battle-hardened special operations troops.