Tomorrow Never Knows

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In the play “Romeo and Juliet,” there are many interesting conflicts to consider - the whole story is full of them. But the one that’s always intrigued me the most is Juliet, being trapped between the two men she cares about most in the world when news comes back to her that one of them has killed the other. I always thought that this particular point was resolved a little too quickly . . . so when I set out to write a sequel to “Fire and Darkness,” I decided that I would take the counterpart of that problem, the one I had created, and write the story around that. If I may say so myself, I’m pretty proud of the results.

On a base somewhere deep in the midst of Spung territory, a young sentry named Nivek paced nervously back and forth. He was standing beside a strangely shaped alien shuttle, trying not to think about the punishment which was undoubtedly awaiting him. He could already hear the stern voice of his instructor chiding him: “Your post is at the entrance of one of the Spung empire’s largest deep-space bases . . . high security is an absolute necessity!” It was true. Each of the base’s entrances was patrolled constantly by at least one sentry - two during the base’s active hours. Guard duty was usually a task for the young males who were just beginning their manhood training, and it was inevitable that occasional mistakes occurred . . . but the unfortunate perpetrators of those mistakes were never treated with much patience. The Spung had very little tolerance for errors.

The training of Nivek, the young watchman, had commenced only a few days earlier. This watch, the solitary night shift, had been his very first assignment, and his greatest fear had been that he’d be forced to suffer through the humiliation of being found asleep at the switch. To keep himself alert, he’d allowed his mind more free reign than he usually did, letting himself imagine the future glories he would achieve as a military man. He’d visualized the planets he would capture - the thousands of subjects he would single-handedly acquire to increase the glory of the great Spung empire - and his efforts had been successful. When he’d snapped back to reality, it was to the sounds of people moving about the base. Morning had arrived - and Nivek had stayed awake to see it. But when Sanival, another young male from the same training unit, came to relieve him, he said six words that made Nivek’s blood run cold.

“Where did that shuttle come from?”

Feeling a terrible chill run down his back, Nivek had glanced around the landing bay. Instantly, he’d noticed the minuscule alien shuttle that had somehow slipped past the base’s sensor system and completely escaped the notice of the daydreaming young sentry . . . himself.

Sanival, a bit of a bootlicker who also had an inexplicable dislike of Nivek, scurried off to sound the alarm, leaving his classmate to guard the shuttle - and contemplate his possible fate.

Nivek realized full well the grievous error he’d made. It was not only impractical to have unknown shuttles docking in the landing bay without authorization - it was incredibly dangerous. If Sanival hadn’t come down to take his shift and noticed the strange little shuttle, it might have escaped attention until its inhabitant emerged and massacred the base’s entire crew. The young watchman knew that he deserved whatever harsh words might come his way - but he’d heard stories from his fellow cadets which suggested that he might have more than words coming to him.

If you were lucky - very lucky - a slip-up during guard duty might earn you only a penalty from your instructor. But if whatever was in this shuttle proved to be a danger to the base, the chain of command would be completely bypassed . . . and Nivek’s punishment would be handled by the head warlord. The young watchman shuddered at the thought. Although he had never even laid eyes on the warlord who commanded the base, he was well aware of his reputation. It was rumored that he was one of the most unsympathetic people in the entire Spung empire.

Racking his brain frantically for something to get his mind off what kind of penalty might be awaiting him, Nivek took a closer look at the shuttle. Not for the first time, he wondered what it might hold. He was not idiotic enough to attempt to open it without any reinforcements present, but the fact that the shuttle had passed through the network of security sensors without making so much as a peep implied that there were no lifeforms within - and the lifesigns sweep which he and Sanival had performed suggested the same thing. Then what could be in this mysterious package? He almost didn’t dare to speculate. A weapon of some kind? A quantum virus . . . or an explosive designed to detonate on contact with the atmosphere? Anything was possible - and that was what Nivek was afraid of.

“Why were we not notified of this craft when it first appeared on the radar?” At that all-too-familiar voice, Nivek winced. Sanival had returned, with one of the base’s scientists . . . and Varrick, the cadets’ instructor. From a single glance at the older warrior’s face, it was clear that he already had a good idea why they hadn’t received a warning about the security breach. Even in the first week of training, he had reprimanded Nivek countless times for letting his mind wander . . . Varrick clearly suspected that the same fault was at the heart of this problem.

“W-we already performed a - a scan on the shuttle, ” Nivek stammered, brushing right by the inquiries. “All sensors indicate that there are no lifeforms aboard.” At a motion from the scientist, he stepped away from the craft . . . and tried to ignore the glare that Varrick was sending him. Don’t sidestep my questions, the older man seemed to be saying. Nivek knew his instructor well enough to realize that he was gearing up for one of his long, droning lectures . . . but at a shout from the scientist, every head turned in his direction. As soon as Nivek saw the expression on the scientist’s face, all thoughts of Varrick’s impending harangue were swept out of his mind. Something was horribly, terribly wrong.

One could see easily what had happened . . . using a caution developed by years of experience and training, the scientist had eased open the shuttle craft’s doors, which opened from the top outwards. But when he had caught a glimpse of what was inside, his training had been forgotten and instinct had taken over. He’d leapt to his feet, jumping up and away in one fluid instant. Sanival, closer to the shuttle than Nivek and able to catch a glimpse of its contents, looked as though he was going to be ill.

Varrick took a step forward and craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the contents without getting too close. Nivek moved to follow him, but as the instructor saw what was inside, his expression changed from irritation to one of horror. “Mavros,” he muttered under his breath, motioning for the scientist to close the craft’s doors again. They were sealed before Nivek could see what it contained. “Call Warlord Shank down here,” Varrick said tensely. “He must be informed of this.” More quietly, he added, “He is not going to be pleased . . . ”

Ordinarily, Nivek would consider these events a stroke of luck. It appeared that his slip-up was going to be disregarded for a moment - Varrick would not have Warlord Shank called down to the landing bay solely to reprimand a daydreaming sentry. But when the shuttle doors had closed for the second time, the two interior shields which had previously prevented anyone from seeing through the doors’ large view portals had stayed fully retracted. From the proper angle, the contents of the shuttle were still clearly visible . . . and Nivek had seen a dim outline inside. A Spung body. An unmoving body.

Warlord Shank arrived in the landing bay, seemingly in a matter of seconds - and immediately, the atmosphere in the room changed. As the two young sentries did their best to disappear into the bay wall, the shuttle was reopened. Varrick quickly explained what they knew so far, keeping his eyes downcast and speaking in an odd tone that Nivek had never heard him use before. Later, the young sentry would realize that his instructor was just as terrified of Warlord Shank as he was - but at the moment, he was busy trying to puzzle out what he had just seen. Only Nivek had been watching Warlord Shank when the contents of the shuttle were revealed. Only he had noticed the expression that had flickered across his eyes. Relief? Or could it even be . . . satisfaction?

Whatever the expression was, it disappeared quickly as Shank turned his piercing gaze on the scientist. “Have the body brought up to the laboratory,” he said authoritatively. “Your team will go to work on it. Warlord Shank wishes to know what has happened.” Almost as an afterthought, he turned back to the shuttle, gazing at it intently as though he knew it from somewhere. “This is obviously not his original craft,” he added. “You will do a scan on it as well. Warlord Shank will find out what has gone on. How did the shuttle get here? Who did this? How did it happen?”

The scientist nodded, moving as if he planned to scurry off and have Shank’s orders completed almost before he was finished giving them.

“One additional item.” At those words, the scientist stopped dead in his tracks, hesitantly turning back to face the warlord again. “Have Warlord Shank’s daughter sent up to his quarters. She must be notified of this - change in events - at once.”

“Yes, Warlord,” the scientist said. With that, he was gone.

Once Shank, too, had left, Varrick began herding the two young sentries towards the landing bay door. “The team of scientists will be down here soon enough - you two must find something to do in another part of the base for the time being. Stay out of their way” Within a few minutes, they had left the landing bay far behind, and soon Nivek and Sanival were conditioning in the weight room.

“I don’t understand it,” Nivek said, furrowing his brow. “Why is one warrior such a big concern of Warlord Shank’s? He only has one child . . . a female. And for all we know, the accident may have happened while the cadet was out on his manhood mission. There are at least a thousand young males out on their missions throughout the empire . . . why does this one matter more than the others?”

Sanival rolled his eyes, looking at his classmate as though he’d just announced he didn’t know that the United Populated Planets were an enemy of the empire. “This wasn’t just any cadet,” he said disdainfully. “Mavros was high-born. His father was a great scientist who was killed during the war with the United Populated Planets. His mother was remarried to a high-ranking military official, and Mavros was supposed to follow in his footsteps. He showed a lot of promise in the military . . . but that’s not why the warlord is interested in him. Mavros is important because he is - was - betrothed to Warlord Shank’s daughter. The ceremony was supposed to take place as soon as he returned from his manhood mission.”

When Elmira was given the order to report to her father’s quarters, she assumed that he was simply looking for her to predict the outcome of yet another battle. But the older warrior who came to escort her seemed reluctant to answer any questions . . . and once they arrived at their destination, he was very quick to leave the room, as though he were afraid to stay and watch what was going to happen there.

For perhaps a minute, utter silence reigned. The young Spung female and her father sat on opposite sides of the room, neither speaking a word. It was only when she began making preparations for the prediction which she suspected was going to be requested any moment that he spoke.

“Stop that,” he said flatly. “You were not brought here for me to make use of your powers.”

It was only when he said those words that Elmira began to be afraid. If he didn’t need her to make a prediction, then why had he summoned her? She almost dreaded his next words . . . but when he finally did speak, the news was worse than anything she could have imagined.

“Mavros is dead. He was found by one of the sentries earlier this morning.”

He continued to speak, but Elmira could no longer hear him. All she heard were those words, resounding in her mind over and over again. “Mavros is dead. Mavros is dead . . .”
Among Spung of the upper classes, it was customary to have children betrothed when they were quite small. But unlike the betrothals of some other cultures, intended couples in the Spung empire were encouraged to associate with each other, and often came to know each other well while still very young. In all the years Elmira had known Mavros, there had never been the slightest hint of a romantic relationship between them - but he had been her closest friend. The only friend she’d ever had among her own people.

When they were small, they’d been the terror of the base, causing mischief in every way they could. They were inseparable, together every minute of the day. But with the onset of the war between the empire and the Sol system, things began to change - and events came to a head on one horrible day, when the happy world that the two young Spung had become accustomed to suddenly came crashing down around their ears.

It all began innocently enough, she remembered - well, as innocently as anything could be said to begin during wartime . . .

The universe had been a frightening place back then - although news of battles in one part of the galaxy or another had permeated the Empire’s telecasts for as long as anyone could remember, the attempt to capture the United Populated Planets had been the first occasion in a long time when a system’s inhabitants had shown the firepower and the courage to fight back. This was also the first time an attempted acquisition had happened so close to the base that the two Spung children called home.

There was a palpable anxiety in the air. Did the United Populated Planets realize that there was a Spung civilian settlement so near their system? What if they decided to attack simply as a display of firepower? The tension was only heightened when the inevitable announcement had come from the commanding officer of the army. All able-bodied males from the base were to join the fight.

Elmira hadn’t thought much of the announcement - her father had been gone long before. He was a full-time member of the military. . . he had vanished as soon as there were hints of a battle between the UPP and the Spung. But Mavros’s father was a strategist and a scientist. His actual physical training had never gone beyond basic cadet training work - and he was pressed into duty as well.

At their young age, Elmira and Mavros had only a vague idea of what was happening . . . but along with taking their fathers away, the war had another immediate effect on the young duo. With the men gone, females were keeping their children close to their sides - the two playmates would often go weeks at a time without even a glimpse of one another. Finally, Elmira decided she’d had enough.

Slipping past the guard posted at her door with an ease gained by years of practice, she’d set off along the secret path that led from her garden to the back door of her friend’s home. Suddenly, she’d heard shuffling footsteps coming toward her on the path, and frozen . . . but quickly realized it was only Mavros. As usual, their plans had inadvertently emerged at the same time.

After tiptoeing back within sight of Elmira’s house and watching gleefully as the guard panicked upon realizing she was gone, the two young friends found themselves momentarily at a loss. But quickly, Elmira noticed something that held the promise of excitement . . . one of the footmen whose task was to hand-deliver notices regarding the troops on the battlefield. Although Mavros was a bit dubious as to the interesting nature of the message, he agreed that it was worth investigating.

They began to trail the nervous young soldier . . . and within a few minutes, Mavros turned to his friend with a confused look on his face. “He - he looks like he’s going to my house . . . ”

A hurried discussion followed, during which it was agreed that they would attract the least attention - and stay out of the most trouble - by returning to their respective homes immediately. After Mavros promised to fill Elmira in on the contents of the mysterious telegram as soon as possible, the pair scurried off in opposite directions.
Abruptly, something pulled Elmira out of the past and back to the events unfolding before her. She was sitting in her father’s quarters, frozen in the position she’d been in when her father had given her the terrible news . . . and she’d been brought back to reality by an unfamiliar voice. Quickly, she realized that her father was talking to one of the base’s many scientists - one whom she recognized immediately by sight. The stranger was the head of the autopsy team.

“Warlord,” he said nervously, “we have discovered something which we believe may give us a break in the case. We felt it should be reported to you immediately.” Suddenly, his glance fell on Elmira, and he seemed to remember that this case required an extra measure of delicacy. “Perhaps . . . perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere,” he said flatly.

Shank moved to follow him - but suddenly seemed to remember that his daughter was still in the room. “Have someone called to bring Surrola Elmira back to her quarters,” he said roughly, moving to follow his scientist out the door.

Once the door to the corridor had closed and the scientist was reasonably sure that Elmira was out of earshot, he continued. “We discovered something highly unusual during our autopsy work. Human fingerprints in the shuttle, and human skin samples on the body.”

“What?” At those words, Warlord Shank’s head snapped toward the other male. “A citizen of the United Populated Planets? This far from his own pathetic little solar system?”

“W-well, Warlord, I had a difficult time believing it myself - at first. But the evidence is indisputable. Whoever this human is, he most definitely placed Mavros’s body in the shuttle and sent it off on autopilot.” The scientist shook his head. “That is not a United Populated Planets shuttle, though . . . it almost looks like a Lumanian design. And I’ve never encountered humans out this far. They tend to stay rather close to their own territory . . .”

At those words, the vague suspicion which had been lurking at the back of Warlord Shank’s mind suddenly emerged into a full-blown realization. He was only aware of one group of United Populated Planet citizens out this far from home . . . “Run a DNA test on your sample,” he said brusquely. “If this human’s DNA is on file anywhere in the galaxy, you will find it. Warlord Shanks wants positive identification of his identity.” Perhaps Warlord Shank’s dilemmas will be solved in one fell swoop . . .

“Yes, Warlord - I will initiate the search as soon as we reach the lab,” the scientist said.

It didn’t take long. Within a few minutes, the search results were in.

“The samples belong to a UPP war veteran named Seth Goddard.”

For a moment, Warlord Shank thought the results must be too good to be true. But as he glanced at the viewscreen, it was clear that there was no mistake. The fingerprints from the inside of the shuttle and the skin samples from the body itself were an exact match with the grainy, low-quality file that had been stolen from the STARDOG dossiers eleven years ago - and the picture accompanying the file was unquestionably the commander of that group of rogue children.

Before anyone had time to become suspicious of his contemplative silence, he made a decision. “Have an order sent to all territories,” he said brusquely. “The shuttle that we found was of a Lumanian design. We are looking for a Lumanian craft with humans aboard - an unusual combination. Any loyal citizen of the Spung empire who knows anything will turn in this Goddard and any possible accomplices or face the consequences.”

Almost casually, the scientist tapped out a few sentences. He then added the command which would send the message across all Spung space, and to every computer which a Spung citizen might possibly have access to. Turning to Warlord Shank, he said, with only a touch of smugness in his voice, “We should receive a response within a few days.”

“Of course we will,” Shank said without missing a beat. “Warlord Shank tolerates nothing less.”
“All right, people, give me some feedback here. How do we look?” Commander Seth Goddard asked, standing in the command post with an expectant look on his face.

When the crew had done their routine status check that morning, Suzee realized that the Christa was running low on fuel - a stop at a refueling station was needed as soon as possible. The sector of space they were currently passing through was heavily populated - finding a suitable refueling station should have been simple. However, after accessing the Traveler’s Guide to the Galaxy on the Spacenet and investigating further, the crew discovered that most inhabitants of the nearby systems were unknown or hostile. Under normal circumstances, the Christa would have continued on without stopping - but there were no other refueling systems within reach of the ship’s remaining fuel supply. With no other option, Goddard had given each of the crew members one solar system to look through, attempting to find a planet or a space station which sounded halfway hospitable.

“The system I’m checking out doesn’t look very promising, Commander,” Radu said in his soft voice. “According to the reports I’m finding, it seems to be mostly - ” He paused, looking as though the next words were almost painful for him to say. “ - mostly S-Spung territory.”

“There’s not much information on the inhabitants of this one,” Suzee said from her place at the engineering console. “From the looks of their entry, I doubt that anyone there’s intelligent enough to even figure out how to log on to the Spacenet, let alone make an entry in the Guide.” She rolled her eyes, and for a moment her expression seemed to suggest that intelligence might be a problem not of the system but of the dimension.

“Same here,” Bova said glumly. “Figures.”

“Wait - wait a minute!” Harlan broke into the conversation. “I think my system might have something . . . a small space station, run by the Rekater people.”

“The Rekater?” At the name, the beginnings of a hopeful expression appeared on Goddard’s face. “I didn’t know they had any territory in this area of space . . . well, their reputation certainly precedes them. I’ve heard stories about them from almost everyone who’s ever been outside UPP space, and nothing but good’s ever said about the way they do business. They keep a very close eye on the visitors to their stations. We couldn’t be safer if we were landing at a UPP facility back home.” He smiled. “A Rekater station . . . this is certainly an unexpected piece of luck. Rosie?”

The young Mercurian looked up at the sound of her name.

“See what you can do about contacting the station. Ask the Rekater for permission to stop over for refueling.”
By the time the Christa was finally permitted to land on the Rekater base, even Miss Davenport’s last fear had been allayed. It was obvious that all the stories the commander had heard about the Rekater were true - before they permitted the ship to land, they sent a scientist on board to determine that the Christa did indeed need refueling. They were given a crew-wide clearance code, due to be voided as soon as they left the station. Without the code, they would not be able to gain entrance to anything but their own ship. Security precautions were higher on this station than the cadets had ever seen them before.

“I wonder what these guys are like during wartime,” Harlan had muttered as the scientist stepped back into his own shuttle.

There was, however, one good point to all the security:

“All right, team,” Commander Goddard said, “listen carefully. These are the terms you’ll abide by while you’re out on the station this afternoon.”

“Shore leave?” Harlan interrupted. “All right! This place has more different ways to keep yourself busy than the biggest city on Earth!”

“Exactly,” Goddard said bluntly. “That’s why we’re setting these guidelines beforehand.

“For the rest of the afternoon, you will be permitted to go out onto the station. I will stay here to supervise the Rekater’s refueling job. You will not be out alone - you will travel in groups of two or more. You will be back here by 1830. If we’re still on the station tomorrow morning, you will remain on the ship until you have notified either Miss Davenport or myself that you are leaving. That process will continue for the entire length of our stay.”

Stepping toward the students, he handed each of them a small laminated card. “This has our clearance bar code on it. Don’t lose it. If you do, you won’t be able to get back into the landing bay - or back to our ship.” He paused for a moment. “Also, I strongly suggest that you follow any regulations you see posted. Let’s just say that not every story I’ve heard about the Rekater is regarding their fine security precautions.”

The students looked grim - and Miss Davenport looked completely terrified all over again. “Commander Goddard, may I have a word with you, please?” she said quietly.

Pulling him aside, she hissed, “Are you utterly out of your mind? You’ve just completed giving the students a list of instructions which would terrify any rational creature. You are obviously fully aware of all the dangers which this station poses. And yet you have just given our students permission to go roaming freely around it, with no supervision, for several days?”

With a glance at Radu, who he knew could overhear the conversation, Goddard attempted to appease his panicky cohort and his crew at the same time. “Listen,” he said calmly, “it’s true that there are dangers on this station. But I know no one on our ship is a fool. The Rekater are strict - but they’re fair. Follow their rules, and they won’t let anything happen to you.”

Click here for Part 2 of Tomorrow Never Knows