The Chrysalis of Eternity

Dost thou love life?

Then waste not time, for time is the stuff that life is made of.

- B. Franklin

They stood stock still, trying to gather their thoughts.

“First contact! I always felt it would somehow be more dramatic than staring at a strange insect-like creature in an artificial jungle,” Linda thought.

“Yeah. How the hell did it get here?”

“This frightened little child is from so far from home it’s difficult to comprehend.” Tin-kelto stood back, admiring the creature that was now trying to climb the fern tree.

“You say this creature’s just a baby? How come there are no older specimens? Where did it come from?”

“It, and its brothers and sisters hatched from eggs one of our geologist teams found ten metres below the surface many years ago. I’ve been trying different ecosystems and environments to try to get them to hatch. I knew they were fertilised eggs, waiting for the right conditions, so I persevered. There were containers of seed and plant matter packed in with the eggs – I experimented with them and finally succeeded two months ago. They’re very fast developers, physically,” he noted.

“Where did the eggs originate then? You said these creatures came from a vast distance away.”

“Yes. The eggs were buried in mud that solidified over time into soft shale. The shale bed was dated to the same time as the Big Bang as the Herre calls it – when something wiped the surface of this planet clean. They always thought it was an asteroid, but subsequent tests show a radioactive core, similar to a power source in Earth’s earlier spacecraft, exploded in the atmosphere at the same time as whatever it was entered the atmosphere. We now know it was an alien craft, and it must have been massive. The eggs in their capsules, with some of this alien vegetation were the only traces of it we’ve ever found.”

“It certainly doesn’t look humanoid in origin,” Brad remarked.

“It isn’t.”

“How many are there?”

“Twelve survivors. Brad, Linda, meet one of the babies with which we’re going to change the course of our evolution.”

“How?”

“Genetic engineering, my old forte. Modifying its basic genetic structure, unsplicing and interbreeding the species to undo the great harm that will finally come to a head itself about thirty thousand years from now. Maybe change the timeline so that the next twenty years reappears. Maybe save the proto-human gene from the extinction that takes place during the Rimwars of the thirty fifth century. Maybe change a lot of things, many of them immediately.”

“But what about the Section Masters – shouldn’t they know about this?”

“Brad, they’re the last people we would tell about this. That’s one reason we chose this planet – the high concentration of radiation and the depth at which we’re working shields us very thoroughly from any scanner or direct search.”

“Why are they the last ones-”

“Because the Section Masters are part alien themselves.”

“What? But what about the Supreme Council then? Surely they must know about this?”

“Brad, the Section Masters are the Supreme Council. They form the Council of Twenty Four.”

“Bloody hell,” Brad said quietly. “How did some alien manage to control the redistribution of humanity? And Soren Vinicius? How did he fit in – after all, he was the instigator of all GSA’s work?”

“Soren Vinicius was one hundred percent human – his DNA sample is still in our vaults here, as a matter of fact, courtesy of a Caretaker from his time who had the sense to see ahead, and behind. I don’t think Soren knew of the existence of the halfbreeds – the mixed race of alien and human genetic stock that was spreading across the galaxy. The Caretakers were originally human too. No, the aliens took control later – the Section Masters are now all hybridised – human and Goranian living in virtual symbiosis.”

“Goranian?” Brad raised his eyebrows.

“That’s their name. My good friend who came back to show us the way told me who they were and where they came from.

“We have their genetic map – the Goranian genome is almost complete. None of these juveniles is old enough to have developed proper speech patterns. We got each one’s karyotype, its chromosomal print, but their communication is mainly by thought, as any highly developed telepathic race would be. They haven’t learned their language yet. That’s why their thoughts are so vague and random – there are no formal communication patterns. We can’t use the translator on them. No adults made it to this planet, until now. This is where my universal translator comes into its own, at last.”

“Until now? You have an adult here too?”

“Yes. But come, this place is too steamy for me. Let’s get back to the office. These Goranian juveniles are in the pure form – they live in these conditions until they splice themselves into another species and adapt accordingly. The medics identified a number of microsatellites in their DNA and are tracking their inheritance factors via genetic markers. They have prior knowledge of a flaw in the genetic structure that makes it necessary for the Goranians to live in symbiosis with stronger species.”

Brad followed Tin-kelto out of the jungle and back up towards his office, relieved to get out of the steamy environment.

“What about this adult, then?” Brad asked as they travelled in the glass capsule.

“He arrived last week – a lone survivor of the second alien ship to arrive. It’s in orbit; a massive object resembling a minor planet – hopefully the Section Master won’t notice it until it’s too late.”

“Too late?” For what?” Brad asked.

“Again, Brad, I’m going to be a little cryptic. The pieces will all fit into place eventually, and then you’ll see what needs to be done. Anyway, this alien arrived on the surface by small lifeboat. The first ship arrived when that explosion took place, the result of their gigantic vessel colliding with Hekla after a voyage of many millions of years. The Goranians were dying out – they built two ships, apparently, one loaded with fertilised eggs containing the original DNA of their species. It crashed here.

“It must have left a trail, or had some sort of homing beacon because the second ship has arrived, as I said. This one initially had a cargo of thousands of Goranians, but just a lone adult survived. I managed to understand him using the translator – he told me about the voyages as a last resort for survival of their race. At last we can communicate properly. It’s been frustrating trying to converse with illiterate little aliens for the last few months.”

“Where is this adult then?”

“We have him under observation – he was in need of attention. He was burned quite badly – Phoenix’s atmosphere is a lot thicker than theirs was, and his lifeboat heated up too much, but our medical team is confident there’s no permanent damage. As soon as he’s able, we’ll start communicating seriously with him. His Goranian DNA analysis correlates closely with the information we have from the juveniles, but he has a hybridised string of RNA in the sample we have, and which I and the team are working on removing.”

“What’s the damage that’s done? You said in the future, the thirty fifth century, some harm caused by them leads to mankind’s extinction?”

“Brad, the Goranians are genetically imperfect. The medics knew it and I confirmed it. The team came back here from the thirtieth century because of the imminent arrival of this second ship. They knew how far back in history to come – it was all recorded, of course. The historical data concerning this contact was well hidden, but the Caretakers with Conscience, the original Chapter in their future time, discovered it and initiated this action.

“The medical team, with some Caretakers, have come back thousands of years to help us deliberately change the future. It’s the first time that’s ever been attempted. Humanity’s at stake – that’s why so many people are, in effect, giving up their lives to help us. They can never go back home. They know that; the cause is far above any personal loss. Good people, all of them.”

“And where do we fit in, then? You have a host of people from the future here now, and you and your team are preparing to engineer genes to somehow reverse the future contamination of the human race. Is that correct?”

“Absolutely. Your task in all of this, Brad and your lovely wife Linda, will be to travel across the galaxy distributing the seeds of destruction of the alien infiltration of our race.

“As I said earlier, the Goranians have to live symbiotically with another species in order to survive. The adult that survived the second voyage looks very different from those babies in Eden. He’s a result of living symbiotically with some other species from his galaxy that we’re examining now – its DNA that is.

“In the pure form, he and his fellow Goranians wouldn’t have survived long enough to reach here. As it is, he’s the only survivor of thousands of generations who travelled in the second ship. The medical team thinks an imbalance or virus caused them to expire; even with the symbiotic relationship they had, they still need to find more and more species to mix with in order to survive, and the voyage was too long for them. Their DNA has an inherent flaw and they must combine with another species every so often.

“Continuous breeding waters down the qualities they absorb when mixing with another species, and eventually they’re easy victims of any virus that comes along. They’ve mixed with so many species during their history that no Goranian actually knows what the original race ever looked like. We do – the juveniles we’ve bred are Goranians in their pure state – vulnerable and fragile.”

“So, how do they affect our race then?” Brad asked. They’d reached the office and Tin-kelto settled into his seat with a sigh of relief.

“Historically, they combine with humans starting tomorrow, according to our reckoning. Just as that piece of history disappears. Then they continue to mix genes until there are very few people left in the galaxy with proto-human DNA. The Rimwars are the ultimate result.

“We’re not the ideal species they were looking for. The half-human Goranians suffer from a bad mix of genes – the aggression of humanity combines with their desire to control any species they consider suitable for their survival. Eventually, the mix takes over and proto-human DNA disappears altogether. The human race becomes technically extinct in AD 3485.

“Whether or not the Goranians ever tried to solve their own problem prior to entering our galaxy we don’t know, but my medical team is confident that they can. They’ll restart humanity’s evolution from right now, without any genetic interference on the part of the Goranians. They’ll fix the flaw in the Goranians’ genetic structure and send them on their way. They won’t need to find symbiotic relationships again.”

“Man, this is mind-blowing. You know, Tin, I had trouble believing the Caretakers and the Section Master back on Misra when they told us about the programme of colonisation. This is a lot more profound. Aliens in need of help; the future of the human race, which you say may be at stake.”

“Not may be, it is, Brad.”

“But if the Supreme Council is hybridised, surely they wouldn’t allow wars of that magnitude to wipe out one part of their breeding species?”

“Brad, the Supreme Council is still answerable to one Supreme Being. Nobody’s seen him other than the Councillors - the Section Masters, and nobody’s seen them for a long time either, for that matter. The Caretakers are all products of hybridisation, as are the Councillors, but the Supreme Being, call him what you will, is pure alien.

“The Caretakers who came back think he’s not Goranian, but another species altogether. I think they’re wrong - I think he may well be the original Goranian. I think he’s the one who’s just arrived in the ship from Goran, and with his DNA unravelled and cleared of extraneous threads, in a timeline that starts tomorrow, he ends up controlling every facet of our endeavours.

“The medical team is busy with him right now – and that’s why I have to keep a very close watch on what happens there. In the current timeline he begins the process of fusing with humans – mixing DNA. How? I don’t know, but we’ve got to make sure it doesn’t happen. We have to keep very vigilant now, and that’s why he’s isolated down there, and why this place, buried deep inside a melted ball of rock is ideal.

“As a race, we’ve been ruled by an alien since the beginning, and it’s time to start the reversal of that process. We can’t afford any outside interference. My medical team is completely sealed off – it’s the only link he could have to the process he wants to initiate, and the Caretakers who came back with them have screened the medics themselves very thoroughly.”

“Can we see this alien?”

“Not directly, but let’s have a look at this monitor,” Tin-kelto shifted to stare at a large screen on his desk top. The scene was brightly lit – a group of white-coated and masked people surrounded a prostrate figure on a covered table. The figure was almost identical in shape to the juveniles they’d seen in Eden, with one exception. Its head was twice the size, in proportion to its body.

“I see what you mean,” Brad observed. “He looks very much like those kids in the playground. How did he survive then? If all the others perished, why didn’t he also die along the way?”

“Like I said, he has some extraneous DNA, Brad. It strengthened them all, but eventually they were whittled down and he’s the last one standing. Of course, where the other DNA came from nobody knows – I’m hoping we’ll find out.”

“Why not simply kill him? That way all the manipulating and trouble will be nullified,” Brad asked.

“Not very neighbourly, is it? Let’s try the civilised route first – help the foreigner in trouble. But it’s a possibility we’re considering as a last resort. Brad, I have something else to show you,” Tin-kelto turned to his instruments again, palming a pad at the side of a long, flat box.

On the largest monitor on the wall, a scene resolved slowly. They were looking at a similar theatre to the one where Tin-kelto’s medical team was at work. Several white-coated men were studying a corpse – apparently dissecting it. Occasionally, flashes from a high window illuminated the already brightly-lit room even more.

“This is a scene from the thirtieth century. This team is the one that first recognised the Goranian genome. They went on to amplify and transfer Goranian genes into other species to try to modify them, but their work was cut short by the First Rimwar. You can see the flashes of an impending assault through the window. It’s the same team that’s down in our theatre now. They arrived a couple of days ago.” He turned the monitor off.

“I’ve discovered how to send material into the future.”

Brad stared at him. The little man was sitting, quite calmly, staring at another of his monitors. The statement was simply another fact, as far as he was concerned.

“You mean you can send someone into the future? Is that what you’re saying, Tin?”

“I am. I’ve done it myself – the only one who ever has. I couldn’t take a chance on sending anyone else initially – I had to know it would work. I’ve been to a number of locations in the future and the past, all since yesterday. The first time I managed to access the future directly, I sent samples of DNA from our juveniles here. I knew I’d done it because they disappeared from this room and I saw the medical team there examining the container I’d packed the tissue in. They were very interested – they’re still working with it in the scene we just saw.”

“How come you’ve only found out how to do it now?”

“I tried many, many times to travel into the future, Brad. It’s always been one of my burning ambitions, but I’ve never managed to get it right until now. It was by accident, as so many of my really significant discoveries seem to have been. I was watching the scene, on the same planet we saw a minute ago, and a series of amplifiers working with DNA samples and genetic mapping was running. They happened to be on the same frequency as the main optical amplifier for the monitor I was using, and suddenly some of the loose items disappeared from my desk and appeared on the screen showing the medical team. They picked up a marker and a small weight I used to balance my videophone here.

“As you can imagine, I was stunned. I did a lot more experiments, using myself as well and I think I have it perfected.”

He turned to Brad with his big, soulful eyes and leaned forward slightly, conspiratorially.

“If the need arises, would you be willing to go there?”

“Where? Into the future? Into that era? Why?”

“As a last resort. I’ve worked on a few scenarios, and one worries me very much. Sabotage.”

“Sabotage by whom?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be worried. Brad, somehow that Goranian in there,” he gestured at the back door, “somehow in the current timeline he manages to splice his DNA into the human genome and fouls up the whole thing. No matter how vigilant we are, I still worry that what the future revealed is actually going to happen, and the only unknown factor at the moment is if somebody manages to get to him and begin the hybridisation process.

“As a last resort, would you be willing to travel to the future?”

“And do what?” Brad asked, puzzled. The thought of being the first other than Tin-kelto to try out a new process of this nature was not exactly encouraging.

“Attack the problem from the other side. If you had the refined human genome that we’ve extracted and put together from the inhabitants here on Phoenix you could supply the medics there with the means to restart the evolution process on the correct lines. By the way, the newcomers from the selection of planets I mentioned have arrived and we now have a composite genetic sample from sixty different races. It’s ready for distribution, through the medical team we saw. I could put you in there a short while before they’re scheduled to leave for us. What do you think?”

“Hell, Tin, I don’t know what to think. If you can guarantee that I’ll make it all right, then OK, I will.”

“I can’t guarantee it, Brad, until the first transit. However, it worked for me, and the tissue sample I sent arrived undamaged, so another piece of a life form survived. It’s the same principle as the network, but with refinements, using the inverting optical principle my friend left me. I programmed a lot of the existing network myself, by the way.”

They sat side by side for a long while, thinking together with Linda.

“Brad, Linda, it’s time for an upgrade. I think you’ll be able to stand the sight of me as I am. I want to artificially boost your telepathic powers – bypass a few levels of evolution. I’m asking your permission to implant a chip in the base of your brain, Brad – it’ll enhance your status to my level. Time’s running out. You’ll be on a higher level than the Caretakers, and I think it’s necessary if you’re to travel at will across the galaxy. You’ll be able to bypass the network – it’s quicker. That’s how Kahana always manages to find you, even lying on a beach on some forgotten planet, hey Brad?”

Brad grinned, considering the implications.

“No side effects, Tin?”

“None you won’t be able to handle. There’ll be a learning curve for a while, but you’re both quick enough to pick it up fast.”

Brad took a deep breath. Linda had already confirmed her agreement, more by feeling than actual thought.

“What do I do?”

“Come, we’ll pay the medical centre a visit, get your upgrade and see how close they are to providing you with that sample.”

Tin-kelto got to his feet with an effort and Brad followed him back along to the ante room where the sloping corridor vehicle took them towards the jungle. This time they turned to a side door and entered a sealed, brightly lit medical centre with an operating theatre in the core.

As they entered, they could see into the theatre where the team was still working on the prostrate alien. Two of the white coated men looked up and moved to a door that slid open – a double doored compartment where they removed their masks and gloves, throwing them into a bin. A flash of violet light signified the chamber was sterilised, letting them out of the second door.

The two approached Tin-kelto and Brad, smiling and holding out their hands. Brad shook them warmly.

“It’s an honour to meet you, General,” the shorter man greeted Brad. His accent was strange – not like any Brad had heard before.

“General?” Brad answered, puzzled, but the second man reached forward to shake his hand as warmly as the first, smiling broadly as if he recognised Brad from somewhere.

“The implant, if you would, gentlemen,” Tin-kelto said, stepping slowly out of the way as the two moved towards a bank of equipment in the ante-room that resembled nothing Brad had ever seen.

“You have a supply of chips for this purpose?”

“No General. This one is tailored specifically for you. We spent a lot of time on it – it’ll help you immensely in the times to come.”

“The times to come - you doctors from that future, then?” he asked politely.

They didn’t reply, smiling as they opened a cabinet and removed a small gun-like object tipped with a short, thick needle.

“If you wouldn’t mind, General,” the taller man said, pointing to a reclining chair. His accent was neutral, but a hint of something else was beginning to come through. It sounded vaguely Scandinavian, slightly sing-song and soft vowelled.

Brad sat in the chair and the shorter man, dark and thick-set, eased him forward, adjusting the back so that Brad’s head leaned forward. The other doctor placed the object on his neck and a slight click, followed by a burning sensation heralded the successful implant.

As he got up, Brad felt his neck. A tiny swelling was the only indication of whatever it was they’d implanted, but the effect on him was startling. He looked at Tin-kelto with astonishment.

Where a slight, slender and fragile long-armed man with a high, rounded cranium had stood moments before, there was now a creature resembling a cross between a stick insect and a short, fat dwarf. His squat body and long arms supported a head twice the previous size. His eyes stood proud of the rest of his face, swivelling continuously. There was no other feature but for a long slit which Brad supposed was a mouth, and the nose and ear depressions he’d had before.

“Not quite the friendly little chap I seemed, hey Brad?” he heard Tin-kelto say, although the mouth didn’t seem to move at all.

“It’s all in your mind, my friend. We’ve always communicated telepathically. I have no other means.”

“You’re alien,” Brad gasped when he finally found his voice.

“Only one third, believe it or not,” Tin-kelto said, and it seemed he smiled although the face staring impassively at him didn’t move. In fact, it didn’t appear as if it could – the skin, or whatever was covering his features was bar-taut and shiny.

“Tin, you said you were human,” Brad said accusingly.

“You weren’t ready for it, Brad. I’m mainly human. The doctors are one hundred percent, though,” he motioned towards the retreating white coats. Brad could see normal heads poking out of their jackets and he shuddered.

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” Tin-kelto laughed.

“It’s not that – it’s been a hell of a shock,” Brad managed. His thoughts were in turmoil, and he could feel Linda’s powerful mental emotions convulsing.

“We must get back,” Tin-kelto said as he began to shuffle off towards the doorway. Brad looked up, and found, to his amazement, that he could see not only through the door, but all the way up the line to the office high up ahead. As he concentrated, he could see into the Herre’s office, out through the doorway and into the area above the plaza. He shook his head as if to clear it, and focussed on the cab.

They reached Tin-kelto’s desk without speaking, and the strange looking half-man willed the monitor on the wall back on. The same scene was still unfolding, but the medical team had now gathered at a doorway, each carrying a heavy-looking bag. They stepped out into a chaotic scene of flashes and smoke, and one of them stood concentrating while the others formed a protective ring around him.

As Brad watched, the familiar spinning disc of an opening Gateway took form, and a few seconds later the first medic walked in, followed by the others. The Gateway closed just as a troop of heavily clad soldiers arrived from a shimmering, slightly flattened, spherical object that dropped from above, opening to disgorge them. They all carried weapons that Brad didn’t recognise.

Punching the air in evident frustration, the leader, a short, squat man with long arms and a heavily helmeted head three sizes too big motioned his troops into the now deserted building the medical team had vacated.

“That’s how they left; the same ones you’ve just met,” Tin-kelto remarked. “A group of Caretakers left shortly after them.”

“Who were they fleeing?”

“The Hybrid Coalition forces. I’ve never managed to see the leader – neither have any of the medical team or Caretakers who came back. This is the start of the First Rimwar, Brad. It developed into the Second and Third Rimwars quite a while later. Fighting spread rapidly at first – the paranoia generated by the early reports of what happened there, fuelled by the increasingly aggressive tendencies of the hybrid nations led to them attacking all the purely humanoid worlds. As I said, there were eventually three Rimwars, and at the end of the thirty fifth century there were no humans left – only hybridised creatures like me – and them,” he gestured towards the door leading down the corridor.

Brad considered the implications, frowning.

“But if the medical team down there succeeds, then there will be no Coalition Leader, or any Rimwars. We’ll have a new timeline and then what happens to those people who came back from there? And what happens to you – you came from some future time as well, didn’t you Tin? None of the scenes we watched will ever happen.”

“I don’t know, Brad. We’re entering virgin territory here.”

Tin-kelto turned to the monitor showing the team in the theatre below them, monitoring their progress.

“They’ve isolated the genome, that much is taken care of, but we still want to find out more about the other string of RNA spliced in there. It should verify a – what the-”

Tin-kelto jumped to his feet, an action faster than Brad had thought possible. On the screen, a lone Caretaker, identifiable by his long brown cloak, had entered the first door and was standing in the central sterilising chamber looking at the action inside. He had a weapon similar to the one Brad had used long ago on Misra in the short battle that ended the first colony.

Tin-kelto moved swiftly again. His arm shot out across the desk as he looked up at the monitor. All heads in the theatre jerked up to see the tall figure now firing his weapon at the lock on the inner door. It dissolved in a heap of molten slag, and the Caretaker leaped over the glowing mess and trained his weapon on the group of doctors.

Without a sound, the figure on the table rose to its feet. It was tall – far taller than any of them, and its head swivelled from side to side as it surveyed the scene. Slowly, deliberately, it advanced on the nearest medic and extended its clawed hand, reaching out for the man’s neck. Two of the others jumped at the alien, but the Caretaker fired his weapon and they both dropped to the floor – unmarked but obviously unconscious.

“Brad, quickly – we must get down there,” Tin-kelto’s urgency was alarming. They both started for the door, and suddenly they were at the entrance to the theatre.

Brad leaped for the startled Caretaker before he could raise his weapon, and with a mighty effort, wrenched the rifle from his hands. He leaped backwards, raising the weapon and fired straight at the Caretaker. Without a sound, the cloaked figure crumpled and fell in a heap.

The alien stopped and stared at them with its large protruding eyes – one on either side of its head, a large, compound mass of multi-faceted grey matter. It remained stationary while Brad and Tin-kelto moved towards it.

As they approached, Brad checked the weapon and found the setting button on the side, resetting the control from stun to full power. He wasn’t going to take any chances with this creature. Beckoning the Goranian backwards, he shoved the rifle at its midriff and felt it hit against the creature’s hard shell-like thorax. It moved back, reluctantly, its head continuing to swivel from side to side.

Brad probed its thoughts, flexing the extraordinary power he now evidently possessed. With ease, he opened up its defensive shield and penetrated its mind. Inside the huge head the creature felt fear and hatred in vast quantities, mixed with desperation. It felt threatened and vulnerable - powerful and aggressive at the same time. He shot a threatening cluster of thoughts at the creature, which wilted visibly. He continued to direct violent images of its destruction, and the creature buckled at the knees and sank to the floor.

“It’s not going to harm us for the moment, Tin. What do we do now?” Brad asked, turning to find Tin-kelto had disappeared. He concentrated, and saw the little man entering his office, and with alarm, he watched as the little one-third alien he had befriended began to manipulate a series of instruments.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brad shouted in his mind. Tin-kelto ignored him.

Reaching down, Brad picked the shivering creature up by the scruff of what passed for a neck and shoved it violently back through the doorway into the theatre. As he did so, he felt a sharp jab on his wrist, and looked down to see a thin line of blood. He hurled the creature into the theatre. It lay in the centre of the floor, a quivering heap of misery.

He stared down at the trickle of blood running down the back of his hand and cursed. This is exactly what Tin-kelto had been so afraid of – the creature had managed to obtain a sample of his blood, and thus human DNA.

Brad slammed the remains of the door shut, and trained his weapon on the frame. Bolts of energy shot out in a burst of red and orange light, melting the frame as he trained it in a circular pattern, the glass and metal fusing into a curtain of molten matter that effectively sealed the area.

Without looking back, he began to sprint for the corridor, and suddenly found himself looking down at Tin-kelto. He was in the office.

Stunned, he stood immobile for a few seconds, assessing his newfound talents. He realised immediately that mobility required only the thought of where he wanted to go – what sort of distance he could cover remained to be explored.

“Tin, what the hell are you doing? Why did you leave me like that?” He kept the rifle pointed downwards, but in the general direction of the little man while he scanned his mind.

Tin-kelto turned to face him.

“Did the alien get through your skin?” he asked.

“Yes, it did,” Brad said, holding up his wrist, and Tin-kelto saw the trickle of blood running along his hand.

“So it did. Oh hell, Brad Coulson, this is what I dreaded. It’s already obtained two samples of human DNA, yours and the medic. I didn’t see this one coming. Here, give me the weapon – I must finish it off, and the juveniles.”

He stood trembling, and Brad could feel his dilemma. A part of him loved the juveniles. He regarded them as kin – his own children. His inner turmoil was fierce. He stood shuffling, stepping to one side then the other. His sense of loyalty to the Goranian nursery was intense, but eventually his human genes overruled his emotion-warped senses and he started for the door.

“It’s imperative I kill them all right now – before the adult absorbs any more,” he managed to get out. His voice was shaky with emotion.

“The process has already started – these creatures have adapted over millennia to this kind of situation. They’re so quick – this is what I was so very afraid of, Brad. Like I said, the sabotage aspect. I had a premonition – or maybe I saw it, I don’t know any more. The Caretaker you stunned is dead – I can feel it. He was one of the Coalition – he arrived with the others two weeks ago. I screened them all myself, but they’re so powerful. However, you’re more powerful, believe me Brad. You’ll find out just how powerful soon enough.

“You have to go there – to the place where the medics congregated, and stop them from leaving until this Caretaker is stopped, permanently. It’s double insurance. That will be your task. Think deeply, Brad. Think of the Caretaker’s last thoughts. He died soon after you stunned him. His metabolism couldn’t take it. Didn’t you feel it?”

“I did. His name is Kehaal. I didn’t recognise what I felt – I thought it was sheer terror. I feel his thoughts now – how can that be? You said he died soon after I stunned him.”

“Residual energy – you and I can detect it, but not many others. The energy’s in his brain for a short while – absorb what you can. Identify him fully, and get him, Brad. It’s imperative that you stop him from coming back here, so we can finish off what we started. I’ll take care of this end – as I said, double insurance.”

“How do I get back here again?” Brad asked.

“You’ll know when the time comes, my friend.”

“Tin, if I stop him from coming back and you finish what you’ve started, what happens when I do come back? I mean, you’re apparently a hybrid yourself – will you even exist in the new timeline that would start right here and now?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, Brad. Only one way to find out. Go well, my friend. My hopes go with you.”

With that, he activated the instrument connected to his optical receiver. It was still relaying the scenes from the future on the monitor when Tin-kelto disappeared from Brad’s sight.