The Galactic Arena Prequels (Books 1 & 2): Inhuman Contact & Onca's Duty

by Dan Davis

  Better speak to Navi while he still could.

  “Max to Navi, come in,” he said into his radio.

  A few seconds later, she came in. She sounded very far away. “I’m here, Max. I’m here.”

  His face creased into a smile. “How are you feeling?” he said.

  “I just needed a little lay down,” she said. “I’m much better again now. What’s happening? You turned off your camera suite. I can’t see you.”

  He thumbed the switch while he walked, the cameras on his chest harness pointing in all directions. They would be able to create a 3D reconstruction of the structure using the data, at least. “Not much to see. There’s no one here. Wasted our time. Should have spent it enjoying our time together.”

  “We did enjoy our time together. At least, I did. Did you not?”

  “You know I did.”

  “Well, then. We made it. All the way. That will show the humans. What we are capable of.”

  Max shook his head. “It’s not enough. They will ignore it. I know. We need to do more. Sporing will have to do it. I left him a data block, make sure he watches it.”

  “Come home, Max, come on home.”

  “Almost at the center. Then I’m done. Then I can rest.”

  A longer delay than usual. “There’s nothing there. Please, you can make it back to the capsule. I will operate it from there. Just get back to the capsule, please. I need you here.”

  “Almost there.”

  Sweat ran into his eyes as he looked up. It was difficult to judge the precise center of the vastness. Every time he judged that he was there, the distant ceiling appeared to keep going up. The wall far in front never seemed to be closer than the behind him.

  He wondered if this was what it was like to be outside. Outside was a concept he had wrestled with. Although he had seen it on countless films, he couldn’t imagine the feeling of having nothing above him but kilometers of atmosphere and then space. How could that be anything but terrifying? Knowing that there was nothing to stop you in every direction but under your feet. It was no wonder everyone on Earth was insane.

  He stumbled onto a pattern on the floor. Something was different. Engraved, etched or molded into the floor. A huge pattern. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to make it out but had trouble focusing. Sporing was chattering away excitedly in his ear. Max wandered around it, trying to get the full picture.

  It was a circle, perhaps seven or eight meters across. A small dot, really, in a room hundreds of meters in diameter but inside was a pattern depicting a spiral shape with straight lines radiating out from the center in jagged zigzags.

  “What does this mean?” Max asked, blinking and rubbing his eyes, trying to see it clearly. “Is this a test? A puzzle to be solved? Can you see this?”

  Navi was talking when Max fell. He didn’t remember falling, just the cold floor pressing into his face, the sharp edge of a shallow line in the pattern cutting into his cheek. It was the easiest thing in the world to close his eyes and just rest. Just rest.

  A loud tone chimed, filling the vast space with a sustained, bright ping that echoed from the distant surfaces.

  Max sat up.

  “What was that?” he said, looking around and expecting to see an alien.

  Nothing.

  Nothing was different. It was still empty. Silent. Dead.

  “The Orb signaled us,” Navi said in his ear. “Another stream of data.”

  “What does it say?” He felt comfortable. It was nice, being at rest.

  “AI decoding now.” Navi sounded distracted. It was her working voice. She would be helping guide the AI.

  Max dragged himself to his feet and stood, swaying. “Did I do something?” He looked down at the pattern on the floor, at the huge disk cut into the black surface.

  “The signal was sent as you reached the center of the Orb,” Sporing said. “It stands to reason that you triggered this. Well done, Max. You did it, you made this happen.”

  “Translation options coming through now,” Navi said. “Hold on, I’m not sure the word choice probabilities are right, I am going to rearrange. Okay, let’s see here. We think it says, congratulations. You have reached the gateway? The next gateway calls to you or beckons. You will now return to this place in… there’s a string of numbers here, the AI is putting together options. You will now return to this place in a certain amount of time with… it’s not clear… your chosen representative. If they are worthy and can pass through the gateway, you will receive many, large gifts of information, system rights and… transition windows? Welcome to the… process.”

  “I can’t follow what you’re saying,” Max said, shaking his head.

  “Take your time, Navi,” Sporing said over the radio. “We must know if Max needs to do anything now, that’s the main thing. The precision can wait.”

  “You’re right, we’re just excited, hold on, I’ll try again. Okay, Max, listening? The Orb message reads as follows. Well done. You have passed the test. Now, the next test awaits. You will return to this place in ten thousand seven-hundred and fifty days with humanity’s chosen representative. If they are worthy and pass the test, humanity will receive great gifts of knowledge, star system rights and wormhole access. Welcome to the cycle.”

  “Good God,” Sporing muttered. “Great God Almighty.”

  “Come back in ten thousand days?” Max said. Slowly, a laugh built deep in his guts until it burst out of him. He laughed so hard he fell down again and ended up chuckling with his head in his hands.

  “Hang in there, Max,” Sporing said. “Come back now.”

  Max nodded, even though no one could see him. “Might just stay here,” he said, softly. “Probably just stay.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Navi said, her voice clear and powerful. “Get up, right now and go back to the capsule. Do it now, Max. Come on home. I need you. Come on home.”

  PART 6 – HUMAN CONTACT

  “How did I get to be in medical?” he asked Sporing, blinking up at the man’s tired face. “What happened?”

  The doctor explained it all while checking Max all over and injecting a series of drugs that slowly made him feel more like himself.

  He had no memory of returning to the capsule, had no memory of climbing the ladder and getting inside. And yet he had done it. His mind had gone away, shut down. His self-awareness, his consciousness had not been present due to his physical and mental exhaustion and yet his body and his lizard brain had managed to get him back to it. The Orb had helpfully opened its vast equatorial bay door so that the capsule could push itself up and out and into orbit.

  Navi and Sporing, the ship AI and the capsule computer had collectively flown him back to the Ascension and managed the docking process with Max slumped inside. Sporing had brought him from the capsule bay and into medical then, presumably, worked hard to save his life.

  “I thought I had died,” Max said, looking at his hands. “Am I dreaming? Am I going to wake up back on the Orb?”

  “No.” Sporing spoke quietly. “And you’re not dead yet.”

  “I’m not quarantined?”

  Sporing shrugged. “A calculated risk. There appears to be no life onboard. No biosignatures detected by any of the experiments or the testing I performed in the capsule bay. We’ll see what happens to me and Lissa, I suppose. Anyway, I couldn’t leave you out in the capsule bay.”

  To die.

  Max jerked up against the chest straps holding him to the bed. “Where’s Navi?”

  “In your quarters,” Sporing said. “She’s stable but the mission took it out of her. She worked hard on the translation and helped the AIs format a series of responses. We’ve been broadcasting the messages at the Orb but it has not responded.”

  “It told us to go home,” Max said, holding his head. His temples ached so much he could barely open his eyes. “What’s my prognosis.”

  The doctor pursed his lips. “Frankly, I am amazed you made it back. You were thin when you left. It’s only been twe
nty-four hours and you seem to have lost another five kilos. I’ve given you fluids, painkillers. Your liver is barely functioning. Can’t seem to warm your extremities. How do your feet and hands feel?”

  “Numb. Tingling. Cold.”

  “Hmmm,” the doctor said. “Discoloration at the finger tips. Could be turning black. I’d rather not amputate.”

  “Luckily, I don’t have long enough for it to be worthwhile.”

  “No, indeed.”

  “I have to go to Navi,” Max said, fumbling at the strap buckles.

  Sporing placed his hands over Max’s own. “I will help you. Max. I just want to say… thank you. Thank you for bringing us here. For doing what you did for the rest of your people. And thank you for saving my life. I owe you that life and humanity owes you… I’m not sure yet what we owe you but whatever it is, it is not a debt easily repaid.”

  Not knowing where to start with what he wanted to say to the man, Max simply nodded.

  When he was free, he floated to his storage locker. He had never changed it. It still said Medical Assistant XIII (Max) on the front. Lucky number thirteen, the best of his batch. The others, his brothers, euthanized for failing to come up to standard. Max was lucky to have ever existed in the first place. Then again, wasn’t that true for every human who ever lived? Even more so, if anything and it was true not only for humans but for every creature that ever lived, on Earth or any other planet in the universe. Lucky. Life itself was, perhaps, inevitable. Mundane. Each individual life, on the other hand, was stupefyingly unlikely.

  “Doctor, please take this,” Max handed him a heavily shielded, encoded data block. “You talk about repayment of debts. On here is all my research from the last decade and a half. There are also a number of videos of me explaining my findings in layman’s terms. I’m afraid I ramble on at some length and there are hundreds of hours of recordings and I often find myself speaking of the political.” He broke off to cough, bringing his hand away covered in splotches of red. He grabbed a wad of bandages and wiped his hands and mouth before continuing. “My request to you, Doctor Sporing, is that you review my data and attempt to share the data online back on Earth. You should find a way to do such a thing anonymously, if you feel you need to protect yourself from the repercussions.”

  “Repercussions from the AP industry?” Sporing seemed confused. Worried, perhaps, as well he might.

  Max ran his hands over his face. “There is a story I liked about the religious leader called Jesus. He visits the great temple at a time of a festival and finds the sacred space profaned by the presence of animals, merchants and money-changers. He drives out the animals, throws over the tables, scattering their coins. He tells them to take such things away, to not make the holy a place of commerce. It was for this act of protest that the establishment had him arrested and executed.” Max wanted to finish his point but he had to catch his breath.

  The doctor seemed confused. “I haven’t heard that story in a long time. That was always one of my favorites, too. Are you saying that human life is holy and the cloning and AP companies are the money-changer, profaning the—”

  “I’m saying humans with political power have a long history of killing troublemakers. And they don’t seem to mind what anyone does until it messes with their money. I would prefer it if you took all precautions to look after yourself.”

  “I will,” Sporing said. “But you must know I will be an old man by that point, if I survive at all. There’s no way the remaining hyposleep tank will work for the return journey. Plus, we would need one for Lissa, also.”

  “You must survive,” Max’s voice shook. “You’re right, you must look after Lissa. I have included the recordings of the last ten years of counseling sessions I have had with her, as well as the treatments I used on her. She received very little reactor or cosmic radiation due to living in the garden, surrounded by water and plants. Added to that the unique design of her genetic structure and she will not die of age related conditions before you return to Earth. You must look after her until then and you must look after when you get to Earth, for as long as you live.”

  “I can’t promise that,” Sporing said, looking pained. But Max had to steel himself to the man’s doubts. Lissa needed someone.

  “You must.”

  “Max, I promise I will do all that is in my power. But all APs have a genetic clock, by law. I will take a look at your research in hope of building on it but—”

  “Lissa is not an AP.”

  Sporing tilted his head. “She certainly is. I’ve seen her batch birth footage and selected parts of her conditioning program.”

  “Yes, yes, obviously. All of us on board, all the B-Crew, we were sold to you and everyone else as backup, as a backup crew. But we were never really needed on this mission. Think about it. You had AIs plus Mission Control.”

  “Lucky we did have you to save the mission,” Sporing said. “That doesn’t have any bearing on Lissa being a—”

  “You’re lucky you had us to rectify an almost catastrophic act caused by one of the APs. Without APs on the ship, the humans would likely all be alive. If the incident had never occurred, then the ship’s APs would be in various stages of rad sickness or with genetic clocks winding down. I’ve studied our genomes and each of us was designed by different methods but Lissa is the most different of us all. Or perhaps you could say she is the least different. She has no genetic clock. Look, it’s all in my research, all in my notes, my talks. I’m too tired, now. I’m just too tired. I need to go to Navi while I can. Remember, Doctor Sporing, you promised. Share my data with the people of the Earth. You also need a project to keep your mind and body from atrophying any further on the way back. And look after Lissa. She needs you. I know you will do the right thing. There is no doubt in my mind. I know it. I’m going to be with Navi now. Thank you, Doctor Sporing, thank you.”

  ***

  Herman Sporing watched Max drag his emaciated body out through the door for the last time. It was astonishing that Max was alive, let alone conscious, let alone mobile. It would be tempting indeed to assume the superhuman capabilities were due to the design of his genome but Herman had a strong sense that it was Max’s iron will that was responsible. Was that genetic? If so, it was latent until Max’s brain could develop unfettered by the tampering he had been required to carry out on the APs in his care.

  Of all the mistakes and bad choices he had made in his life, that one was the worst. Yes, he was just following orders but since when had that ever been an excuse for an immoral act? He had always known that damaging the APs’ cortexes was tantamount to assault or even a kind of repetitive murder. A method of oppression and subjugation. After all, why would it ever be necessary to do such a thing in the first place if it was not to suppress the potential of the lifeform in his care? In a way, he felt relief that his years of doubt had been justified. That did not stop the hot, cloying guilt that threatened to overwhelm him every time he recalled what he had done to the B-Crew before the hyposleep compartment incident.

  Max would die soon. And Navi, too. She had exerted herself far beyond the limits of normal endurance and if it wasn’t for the remote monitoring system showing her heart was still beating, he would be worrying she had died already.

  He switched the monitor off.

  Why did they work so hard, he wondered? Where had that drive come from? Was it their early conditioning in obedience and duty that had carried through into their self-directed consciousness? If it was, did that detract from their achievements?

  He strapped himself to his workstation, stuck the data case to his tiny desk and scanned the contents. It requested his biometrics, which was something Herman had not had to do for a long time. He almost smiled at the quaintness of it.

  DOCTOR SPORING CONFIRMED. DOCTOR, PLEASE RE-ENCRYPT THIS DATA PRIOR TO MAKING EARTHFALL. PLEASE DO NOT UPLOAD ANY CONTENT TO SHIP NETWORK. PLEASE DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE OR HINT AT THE EXISTENCE OF THIS DATA TO ANY PERSON OR AI AT MISSION CONTROL. THANK YOU.
>
  There were 26,000 files.

  Herman browsed the file blocks and subfiles. Much of it was technical data. He came across the crew file blocks and opened the one marked LIFE SUPPORT ASSISTANT I (LISSA). Inside was 480 counseling session notes and recordings. Under Genetic Research there were 1,864 files. He opened a video file named Conclusions Summary #1.

  It opened footage of Max strapped to the very workstation he was at. Max was clearly younger, in full health. But he was dour, troubled and he seemed extremely tired, occasionally pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his dark eyes.

  “The only conclusion I can make is that Lissa does not have an artificially-created genome. And it is not, either, a naturally occurring genome that was then edited by any known or hypothesized technique on record. It is very likely that Lissa is in fact genetically fully-human. Nevertheless, she was certainly grown ectogenetically, using accelerated growth techniques. Terra Pharma, I assume, obtained a natural, fertilized human egg and developed it using a heavily modified version of its patented tank and synthamniotic system. She was then raised as an Artificial Person using RecoGen Interplanetary’s conditioning tech. I understand that this is illegal under all nations’ legislation and can only speculate as to why they would do such a thing. Firstly, her genetic structure, though clearly natural, is very interesting. To put it in the simplest possible terms, her cells have a very high transcription fidelity due to mutation in key elements of her RNA causing improvements to at least two reproduction mechanisms. The protein protecting her DNA is not the Dsup protein we APs make but a wholly different one performing the same function, which threw me off for a long time. Speculation again but I would expect she comes from a line of very long-lived individuals. Her enhanced genetic proofreading has enabled her to weather the radiation better even than any of us who were designed for it. Further speculation is that this was an experiment by the company but I doubt that she was the first they did this to. According to the records, our Lissa had at least another six clones that were euthanized during their pubescence but whether that is misdirection to make her appear to be an AP or truly was carried out we can only guess. Of course, it is not just her genetic fidelity that marked her out as genetically special. Perhaps the most immoral practice of the AP Tech Group was in selecting someone with the genetic potential for developing autism, then interfering with the brain development during the first ectogenetic trimester and then, I believe, creating environmental factors during her first two years out of the tank conducive to development of an autism spectrum disorder or ASD. It could be argued, in fact, that all APs are designed to exhibit at least some ASD behaviors as a part of nominal function. I will link this file to my series on this hypothesis.”