QUANTUM Civil War

Prologue

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Humanity had grown soft. We relaxed on our recliners around the pool. We drove our cars to wherever. We bickered endlessly about petty things as we texted on our phones. Life on Earth, while far from Utopian for many— wasn't so bad for most. Every year, less of our time was spent on survival and more on recreation. Some would have said we were becoming obsessed with entertainment.

But entertainment was the last thing on our minds when the Opamari arrived. For several days, we gaped in awe as their massive ships hovered above us in the heavens. Our forces were put on high alert. Our commanders scrambled to strategize a defense. No response came from our pleas for communication. Panic set in among our leaders when a rocket launch to send up a diplomatic team was instantly vaporized before liftoff. But none of that mattered...

The Opamari weren't here to negotiate peace or trade or to establish relations. They had no interest in becoming our friends. They were here to destroy, to exterminate, to annihilate Humanity. That mission became clear when a flood of warships streaked down from orbit and filled our skies. We were hopelessly outgunned.

Murderous beams of death and countless radiation bombs rained down on our cities. Our outclassed defenses were useless against them. Our powerful missiles— worthless, most disintegrated at or before launch. Our militaries, though brave and valiant and giving it their all, were easily crushed. Our rage of defiance— an all-out effort to defend our home— was no more burden on our attackers than a puppy's whimper.

Three days after the attacks had begun— the last living Human perished. We were finished, extinct, wiped from existence, never to know why or by whom. Humanity was gone. Our history halted.

The warships of the great conquerors quickly moved on from our defeated planet. Earth's gravitational pull was beyond their level of comfort, occupation was never their goal. Instead, teams of scientists and data collectors were briefly sent down. Anthropologists studied our former lives. Data collectors took samples and copied both our written and digital word. An extensive archive of our existence and knowledge was developed. And then they left...

The Opamari went on to conquer the galaxy, eliminating all other sentient species along the way. They ruled the cosmos alone. And with that rule no citizen wanted for food or work. Medical knowledge and capability extended their lives. But something was missing...

As a species without challenge, the Opamari had stagnated. The quest for entertainment had dwarfed the desire to improve their condition. The average citizen no longer cared, content with their easy, distracted, and largely uneventful lives. Improvement had been relegated to the few scientists or businessmen who still had passion and drive.

The boredom of the masses had even risen to the level of bringing about a Human renaissance. The archives were opened and being Human had become all the rage. Digital recordings from our past were played in every household. Speech patterns, mannerisms, and the thought processes of the Opamari— they had all been impacted, some to the extreme. Our entire essence had been consumed, adopted, absorbed, and made their own.

But as with most things Opamari, being Human was a fad. It was entertainment, something to pass the time. Eventually, the excitement and uniqueness of it waned.

Much of our influence remained after the newness was over— leaving an Empire whose culture had been altered, and a people, in every way but appearance, who were left being at least partial reflections of Humanity.

In all, fifty thousand years had passed since the Human extinction— and ten thousand since the cultural renaissance. Most Opamari had no idea Humans had ever existed or even who or what they were.

But a grand discovery was in the works. A discovery that would threaten the Empire. Humanity, it seemed, might be given a second chance. Science, in all its wonder and usefulness— was about to change the past.

Author Notes: For ease of reading, time is expressed in Earth figures. The aliens in this work go by a single name.

Chapter 1

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A horrific ripping sound, almost deafening, permeated the room. The temporal experiment was complete...

Reno's hearts raced as he paced back and forth in his lab on Mentox-I. It was a space-station dedicated to his research in temporal dynamics and was in orbit around the capital planet of the Opamari Empire, Bredren. He stopped, nervously rubbing his three fingered hands together as he stared intently at a display across the room, a display that would soon be showing the test's results.

This has to have worked. He thought. The math— the formulas— they all support it.

After dozens of past, expensive failures, a new attempt had been made to open a portal through space and time. A specially-constructed pod, sized to accommodate a single Opamari anthropologist, had been used to transport its contents more than fifty thousand years into the past, to an alien world named Sampos III... known to its prior inhabitants as... Earth.

A chime sounded, alerting the scientist to the completion of the analysis. Spanning the right-hand wall of his lab was a powerful computer. Bright white, it sparkled with lights that only had meaning to an engineer. The quantum-based system had crunched out an answer.

The anxious Opamari rushed to the display. After only minutes of evaluation, elongated fists were raised in triumph as a grin spread across his tall, slender face.

Yes! You've done it! You've done it! Your whole life has just been validated! Travel through time! Your name will be hallowed and praised throughout the Empire!

An electronic probe had been sent back through time to the past. Designed to return audio and video streams from a target time and location, the tiny device had been commissioned and created by the Opamari Society for Science and Historical Research (OSSHR), the Empire's most prestigious entity within the science community. However, upon reaching its destination, the probe had ceased to function. But of far more importance, data showed the time-portal opening to have been a success.

The results were collated, cataloged, and loaded onto a flexi-tablet. The eager scientist moved about the lab collecting his things.

Nunol will have to accept this! You have done it, Doctor! You have conquered time itself!

A decorative shoulder garb was grabbed, thrown on, and fastened in place before Reno exited the lab. He hurried through the station to a docking bay. A shuttle to the planet below was waiting, the monstrously important tablet gripped tightly in his left hand. Weighing on his mind was a prearranged status meeting with the OSSHR staff to discuss continued funding of the project.

A bead of sweat rolled from his brow as he took a seat in the passenger compartment and strapped himself in. A nervous foot tapped on the floor during the vertical fall into the atmosphere as the automated ship made its way toward a spaceport below. If significant progress could not be shown, funding cuts would be in order.

It was the first time actual threats had been made about the program's continuance, meaning the coming meeting was approached with both apprehension and disdain. Groveling for continued sponsorship was something every researcher despised. Reno was no different.

As the shuttle dropped, a long-held breath was slowly released. His eyes closed when the pull of the planet's heavier gravity began tugging on his body. It was a feeling he had not experienced in months. He flinched, again holding his breath as he gripped his armrest with his free hand. No more than a slight bump signified an otherwise perfect landing.

Calm yourself. You must show composure.

As he stepped off the transport, his nervous attention had a moment of diversion. The smells of the city of Bredren, the crown jewel of the Opamari Empire, filled his nostrils. It was a clinical smell, antiseptic, that of a cleansed and terraformed world. It was a scent most planets of the Empire boasted about, but was not something he had ever found appealing. He considered his own sterile environment on Mentox-I to be superior, and by a far stretch.

When the conference room for the meeting was entered, greetings were exchanged with his associates. Nods and pursed smiles were traded with the OSSHR senior staff, important members of the foundation that had financed the ultra-expensive, temporal venture.

They will soon be worshiping my accomplishments. How could they not? Look at those smug faces.

Reno could sense that low expectations pervaded their thoughts. He took position behind a podium. A series of yawns swept through the room as he linked his flexi-tablet to the display wall behind him. His palms were slick with sweat while his hearts pounded. As he prepared to give his opening comment, a complete and utter wreck on the inside, his outward appearance was mostly cool and calm.

He commanded the room's attention with a smile that said confident. My fellow colleagues, he cleared his throat. just this morning we have made history. Your profound vision, that of funding this project, has finally paid off. Together... A long pause for effect was taken. we have opened a portal back through time!

After a moment's hesitation, the disinterested occupants broke into shocked whispers that in a flash erupted into congratulatory chatter. The chatter slowed with dropped jaws or grins of accomplishment showing on now-attentive faces.

Yes! You have them! Now sell it!

Auspicious members… Reno raised his voice, followed by a high-held hand to regain attention. "the monitoring equipment tells us a portal was indeed opened to Sampos III, a world previously known to its inhabitants as Earth. The date has been verified as being before our forces arrived, so pre-extinction, more than fifty thousand years ago. The species of this planet were called Humans."

The room again filled with discussion.

And now the bump.

A deep breath was inhaled. Please... you must allow me to continue. Reno gripped the edges of the podium as the group quieted. While successful, today's experiment was only partially so. There was a failure. The recording probe you commissioned, upon arrival, it ceased to function. We aren't certain as to why, but be certain we will investigate.

A member of the group stood. He wore a red-leather cover over his left shoulder, one that was decorated with a plethora of badges of accomplishment, showing his level of import. He asked, How long was the portal open and is it ready to be used to send an anthropologist through for study?

Reno shook his head. It is too early to say. The destruction of the probe is troubling... but not fully unexpected at this early stage. Sending through a powered device was a risk. We knew that. Of more importance is our second attempt coming up next month, this time with a live subject.

You are sending someone to the past?

Anticipatory whispers ran through the room.

Again a hand was held up, palm forward. No. Unfortunately, at this time the portal is only unidirectional. The contents of the temporal pod can be sent back, but nothing can be brought forward. And I am not aware of any researchers who are interested in a one-way journey to the past.

Although there are a few of you I would gladly send. He snickered to himself.

We have teamed up with our friends at the Academy of Bio Research for future actions. Dr. Bouthis is here with us today. A gesture was made in the doctor's direction. "An animal from the archives of this planet, Earth, has been cloned and grown to maturity. I believe it to be called a Capuchin monkey. This live subject will be sent through to Earth during our next test."

A monkey? An agitated voice questioned. What value does this experiment bring?

What value? Reno thought. You must be joking.

Dr. Bouthis, seated in a chair beside the podium, sensed Reno's displeasure. He stood, garnering the room's attention. "My team at the Academy has constructed a quantum-entangled bio-link. This soft-tissue link will transfer a continuous stream of data from our travel subject to another animal we will have here in our care. It is the same link used in the probe, only biologically constructed, powered by the live subject themselves.

Whatever the subject in the past sees, hears, smells, tastes or feels, our subject here will see, hear, smell, taste— or feel. Not physically of course, but in its mind. The subject on this end will also be connected to audio and visual sensors and recorders that will show and tell us exactly what the animal on Earth is seeing and hearing... as it happens live.

Grumbles about the monkey rolled through the room.

What idiots! Reno thought. What are they expecting? They call themselves scientists? We've just achieved a temporal opening for the first time! And this is their reaction?

An authority figure, the second in command at the OSSHR, stood with a scowl. We did not finance this project to send extinct animals back to study extinct planets! This is supposed to be about sending back researchers! These delays are preposterous! Where are our results!

The others in the room again broke into overlapping conversations, the volume quickly rising.

Reno nodded as he raised his voice. And we will be delivering those results! I can assure you. But we first have to deem it safe to do so. Or perhaps you would like to volunteer for this mission, Dr. Blod?

The comment was out of character for a scientist who normally maintained his outward cool. Control your outrage or you are finished. Blod has Nunol's ear and is seeking funding of his own.

Blod's arms were crossed and his scowl continued as he returned to his seated position at the table.

Please, each of you, I understand the frustration you are feeling, this project has been behind for several years, but this is science. Progress needs to happen in an orderly and safe manner. If we rush in, we run the risk of interfering with the past, an action we don't yet know the consequence of.

Another attendee blurted out, This is an extinct species. What risk is there to be had?

The group again broke into heated discussion.

Reno slapped the podium top. We run the risk of contaminating the very culture and species we wish to study! Fellow scientists, please, I implore you, I ask for patience as we proceed. There will likely be many exciting discoveries, but this experiment requires we approach it with scientific certainty. I must be allowed to conduct this work in the manner best suited for quality of result and success!

Following the chastisement of his benefactors, Reno hurriedly moved on to the data dissemination portion of his presentation. Twenty minutes of showing lists, charts, and graphs passed, while bored faces filled the room.

When the presentation had come to an end, the head of the OSSHR, Dr. Nunol, stood. "Dr. Reno, you've promised us a usable machine and once again failed to deliver. While the progress of opening an actual portal is a grand accomplishment, it is not what you received funding for. I believed in you. I believed in your project. But my belief has limits. And those limits have been reached.

I have been told by my superiors that either an anthropologist is sent back in the next two months or this excessively expensive project will lose funding. Get us concrete, presentable results that show this experiment and its expense should continue. If you are unable to do so, expect the project to be shut down. There are others, some in this very room, who are seeking funding and resources for their own projects. Either show us real progress or consider this project ended.

The OSSHR head walked from the room. The twenty members of his staff strode out just behind. Frowns and scowls were extended to Reno and the others as they passed.

Reno looked to his aide and the two representatives of the Bio Academy. I cannot believe this. A portal was opened successfully. This is a huge accomplishment.

Bouthis nodded. I would agree. A stunning accomplishment, Doctor. But they didn't seem to be impressed. I sometimes wonder what is being taught at the Academy of Science Management these days. How should we move forward?

We must accelerate our plans. Two months is far shorter than I had hoped for. When will the animals be ready?

They are ready now. I will bring them up next month, as scheduled.

You will bring them this evening.

That soon?

Is there a problem? Reno asked.

What is Bouthis thinking? Was he not just in the same meeting?

Well no. I suppose it won't be an issue. Is the pod ready?

The pod merely requires a reset. That procedure takes fewer than five minutes. Bring the animals up to the station. We will conduct phase two this evening. Oh, and you should begin preparations to move your entire lab up to Mentox. I will need you there by my side if we are to be successful in this shortened timeframe.

Bouthis returned a look of unease. Should we not seek schedule approval... and certainly move confirmation from Dr. Nunol, first?

You heard him. They want results. Without OSSHR funding, this project will fold, and that means our research and our careers with it. Bring the animals!

Reno returned to Mentox with his assistant, Credin. Bouthis joined them shortly after with the two monkeys for the planned experiment.

That evening, one of the Capuchins was placed in the person-sized pod unit. The other was strapped onto a table where a myriad of sensors were connected. A video display soon showed broken images, transmitted across the bio-link, coming from the animal inside the pod.

Reno paused. Dr. Bouthis, I would like to apologize for my behavior at the meeting. While each of us has been on different aspects of this project for years, we have yet to work closely together and are therefore unfamiliar with each other on a personal basis. My tone from earlier was totally inappropriate.

Bouthis nodded. Apology accepted... and respected. Shall we proceed?

By all means.

Bouthis looked over the parameters coming from the sensors. These animals have been bio-linked for several weeks, but they were both put to sleep immediately following the insertions. I have not yet had time to verify the validity of the link. Let's see... we have visual link... and... audio. The doctor smiled. Initiating REM sleep for our local subject. This animal will be little more than an active conduit for our data, momentarily.

The monkey on the table was forced into unconsciousness by administration of an injected drug. The broken images soon cleared, revealing the sights and sounds as seen and heard by the awake and nervous animal inside the pod.

Reno gushed as he looked at the display in wonder. Fantastic, Doctor. He moved to check the pod instruments. If that link holds, we will again be making history here tonight!

Bouthis verified several settings on his equipment. We are ready, Dr. Reno.

Reno's assistant, Credin, initiated the portal sequence. Around them, the station began to hum as its generators were all brought to full power. A set of gyros, accelerometers, and inertial measurement units, time synced to the motion of the galaxy, delivered the precise positional measurements the portal calibration required. An extreme magnetic field was detected by the sensors surrounding the holding unit.

Bouthis jumped in fright as an almost deafening tearing sound ripped through the air when the tunnel through space-time opened. In an instant, the contents of the pod were transferred to the past and to a specific destination thereof... Earth.

The image relayed by the Capuchin flashed a bright white before going black.

Bouthis asked, What was that?

Reno growled. That was our monkey going blind. Do we have audio?

The monkey began to cry out.

We do.

Reno sighed as he fretted over the data coming through to his machine. I should have foreseen this. We need visual. We get little value from listening to a world we cannot see. Nunol will laugh in our faces if we attempt to only bring him audio from the past.

The image on the display began to show a dark and blurry scene.

Bouthis pointed, Look!

The murky video brightened and cleared.

Bouthis hurriedly checked the parameters of his bio-link. Data feed is optimal. We have full transmission!

Reno gripped Bouthis by the forearm as a recognizable image began to come into view. The monkey swung its head from side to side, looking at its surroundings, instinctively wanting to seek a safe and secure location. The image was of a golden-yellow, grassy field with forest to either side.

Reno excitedly pointed. There on the ground, that black smudge... that must be the remains of the probe I sent back. I used the same location for this journey, only seconds later. This proves the probe successfully arrived, but for whatever reason— was destroyed.

The Capuchin scampered toward the trees to its left.

The normally stoic scientist, Reno, had his smile turned into an epic grin for the second time that day. Dr. Bouthis, we are seeing a world from over fifty thousand years ago! This is a historic moment for science!

The monkey on the table jerked as it awakened, screeching out in terror.

Bouthis hurried over. The bio-link has been broken. I don't understand. Our subject in the past has to have died.

Credin reported, We are still seeing an image on the monitor.

Bouthis looked over various numeric data-feeds. A recording. This... this is tremendous. The monitor equipment is showing more than three years of recording. Do you realize what this means?

Reno tilted his head to one side. Explain.

Our subject animal in the past has lived its lifetime while our local subject has experienced less than a single minute of present day!

That doesn't make sense.

Bouthis shrugged. Perhaps we are looking at this wrong. Perhaps time coming through from the past is not linear. Could it somehow be accelerated or compressed?

Reno's expression of concern once again turned into a grin. Yes… yes it very well could be! That would explain some of the anomalies in the data from the probe experiment!

The trio excitedly gazed at the image being displayed from the recording as the animal climbed a nearby tree.

Dr. Bouthis, Reno said, this is incredible. This means an entire lifetime can be lived there in the past while only a single minute passes here. An anthropologist could go on thousands of journeys, living thousands of past lifetimes in study, while only in the early years of a career. How soon can you have a cloned Human body ready to send?

A week perhaps? The bio-link will likely take another week after that. I am not yet entirely familiar with Human physiology.

What if the link was established to an Opamari subject here?

Bouthis scrunched his face at the thought. What are you suggesting?

I'm suggesting we send through a Human body that is connected to one of us. Can the other end of the bio-link be implanted into an Opamari? Is that possible?

An uneasy expression was returned. I suppose. From what little I have researched of Humans, the senses appear to be similar to ours. But our body's methods of converting those returned signals into ones our own brains would recognize? I am uncertain that conversion can even be made.

Go back to your lab this evening, Doctor. Begin the process of readying a Human clone. And I want a bio-link readied as well, and historical memory translations for neural injection. One of us will be linking to that clone!

Bouthis took a step back. That is an untested procedure, Doctor. I highly recommend we take the time to fully study such a venture. Even if insertion does prove workable, I believe it to be highly dangerous. Who knows how the Opamari mind compares to that of a Human? And what of our animal here? Has it taken any damage? And what, if any, memories has it retained? These are things that require careful study.

The subject looks healthy and alert. I will see to its care over the coming week. And you know how the Opamari mind works, Dr. Bouthis. You've studied it your entire life. You are brilliant. I have faith in your ability to make this happen. Go back to your lab. Ready a Human clone. I will be paying you a visit in a week for the bio-link.

You?

This project is my life, Doctor. I cannot allow this research to be a failure. Our experiment here this evening appears to be a huge success. We must build upon it, while we have the opportunity. I am willing to risk it all if that's what it takes!

Chapter 2

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Over the week that followed, Reno reviewed the recordings from the Capuchin. The small but intelligent subject moved from the field to the trees surrounding it. The location selected for the journey had been a natural time and habitat for the animal. After initially being chased away, it was eventually accepted into a troop of locals.

Time was spent advancing through the returned images up until the monkey's death during an attack by a predator. The still stunned researcher logged the events for a report to be used at the coming final presentation to save the project. When the week of data review had ended, Reno made his way down to the surface and to Bouthis's bio lab, with the still living, local Capuchin on his shoulder.

Reno walked into the laboratory of his colleague. Has the cloning been a success?

Bouthis nodded. Yes. I have a Human body I feel is an excellent candidate.

Good. I've done a brief study of a time period and locale where I would like it to be sent. It was selected because of the adequate volume of historical data we have available. In reality, almost any time and place during Human civilization should be acceptable. However, I thought there would be less chance of cultural interference by sending a clone to the central regions of the continent called Africa where there was still a fair amount of isolation, in what was deemed to be the thirty-fourth century B.C.

I am intrigued. Go on.

My clone, when coupled with my knowledge, should have an adequate chance at survival. Many of the Humans are still in the early stages of civilization. I hope to find tribal groups that live in small villages of huts. They hunt, fish, and forage for nutrition. The archives indicate they will mostly keep to themselves, their own tribes. Although there are indications of some warring with neighboring groups.

And you selected this time again, why?

This remains an experiment. I believe it will allow me to travel back and see how these Humans lived in that locale during that time. And I believe my potential interactions with them to be of minimal historical concern.

Bouthis gave a sarcastic