by Gregg Vann
Speaker Lews knew that similar scenes were playing out all across the planet—in many different cities, and even more standalone factories, erected just for the ambitious enterprise. In fact, the entire Obas civilization had devoted itself to the task in some form or another. And soon, their reconstituted fleet would be ready for service.
That day couldn’t come fast enough for Speaker Lews.
The end of the Brenin War had left the Udek Confederation feeling emboldened. And despite the heavy losses they suffered repelling the invaders—erasing the Brenin civilization from existence, really—the Udek had retained their status as the strongest military force in the galaxy. Now they were using that power to make aggressive moves in several systems weakened by the war, and the Obas would need every ounce of strength they could muster to keep their own world from suffering the same fate. Consequently, rebuilding their spaceborne fleet had become their highest priority.
Fortunately for the Obas, the Udek now found themselves bogged down on the planet Polit—with a substantial portion of their fleet tied up trying to blockade the inhabitants into submission. According to most reports, this operation had left Udek forces spread thin. So much so that they were having trouble maintaining normal supply lines, and even missing scheduled troop rotations. Speaker Lews couldn’t imagine the Udek trying to attack Obas now, not with their military in such an unsettled state. So the Obas were exploiting the favorable situation for all it was worth. Every day that passed without conflict gave them an opportunity to grow stronger, and each week that went by saw new ships coming online to further bolster their defenses.
Some of the new ship designs were already plying the starways, mixed in with older, retrofitted vessels that survived the war. The blended fleet was spreading Obas influence and interests to many different worlds now, taking advantage of the post-war peace and relative stability to establish new trade routes, and explore virgin areas of space. So far, the commercial expansion had gone surprisingly well—greatly enriching the Obas, and helping break down the long-ingrained xenophobia that so deeply permeated their culture. And as their isolation began to fall away, so did their preconceived notions—albeit slowly—changing how the Obas viewed the outside galaxy and its inhabitants.
If our ancestors could see us now, Speaker Lews mused, would it be a begrudging pride they felt? Or abject disappointment and revulsion?
Before he could form a speculative answer to his own question, one of the guards standing behind Lews spoke softly, breaking the Speaker’s reverie.
“Sir, you have a priority communication.”
Lews spun around. “Hmm?” he said distractedly. “Ah, yes.” He took the proffered comm unit from the guard’s outstretched hand. “This is Speaker Lews.”
“General Cilos, Speaker. We’ve discovered an Udek stealth ship concealed on the surface, not far outside of Nuvrep. It was hidden near an assortment of auxiliary vents servicing Edo. And, sir, we think the pilot may have used the vents to infiltrate the city. The seals are broken on one of them.”
Speaker Lews’ grip involuntarily tightened on the comm unit.
Tien.
“Find Kiro Tien at once, General. And then I want you to place him and his family in protective custody.”
“I issued those orders before I called you, Speaker Lews.”
Naturally. General Cilos was a capable officer.
Will they never tire of it? Speaker Lews wondered. Just give up, and stop trying to kill him? Would they ever just let Tien be? Surely one day…
“I assume that you have people tracking this Udek down,” Lews said.
“Of course, sir. I’ve mobilized troops in Edo and on the surface. We’ll find him. I’ve also sen— Hold, please.”
Cilos was one of the few people on Obas who would dare put the Speaker of the Ki Assembly on hold. And even he wouldn’t do so unless the circumstances were dire. Lews’ pulse quickened as General Cilos returned.
“Speaker, Dasi and Nsari were located inside their chamber, alive and well. But my troops found signs of a struggle outside in the corridor. They recovered a gun, sir. Special Corp, standard issue. And they just finished field-testing blood discovered at the scene. It was Tien’s.”
“Find him!” Lews said forcefully. “Find him now, General.”
“Sir!”
Speaker Lews handed the comm unit back to the guard and turned around to look out the window again, his thoughts troubled by more than just the obvious and immediate concerns. Much of what he saw down below him—the larger part, in fact—was due to Kiro Tien’s assistance in some form or another. If the Obas enjoyed greater measures of wealth and security now it could be directly attributed to help from the former Udek assassin. The vital collaboration between Tien and the Obas had been the key to strengthening their military and economic might. And that cooperation was provided in exchange for sanctuary and protection for Tien and his family. But what seemed like a simple bargain at first had evolved into a never-ending struggle for Speaker Lews to keep up his part of the agreement. The Obas never imagined that the Udek would be so determined to kill their former operative, once they discovered Tien was alive and living on their planet. Nor did they think the Udek would expend such capital, and risk grave political discord, over just one man. But Kiro Tien was special, and the entire Ki Assembly should have seen this coming.
Speaker Lews was relieved to hear Tien’s family was safe. He’d come to know them, if just a little, and it made this attack feel personal. The blood found at the scene was a distressing sign, but there was no body, so there was certainly a chance Tien was still alive. Lews understood that the Udek was dangerous, possibly the most dangerous man in the entire galaxy—with an ironclad will that was unstoppable, and by all accounts, wholly indefatigable. But in the end, Kiro Tien was still flesh and blood, and everyone’s luck ran out one day.
Speaker Lews just prayed that this wasn’t the day Tien’s seemingly infinite reservoir finally ran dry.
Chapter Six
“It’s so much larger than the current version,” Brother Ryll pointed out, motioning toward Miso’s antiquated soul chamber.
“Indeed,” Dyson said. “By necessity. In the beginning, the chambers had to be more substantial in size to accommodate everything. But naturally the technology progressed a great deal over the years, allowing us to miniaturize the internal components, and shrink the housing down to something more manageable…and far less invasive to the body. This particular model is equipped with a CIC, a continual input chip, and that’s the primary reason it’s so bulky. Two hundred years ago, the mental mapping process wasn’t nearly as straightforward as it is today. In fact, it often took us months to get a complete scan—one good enough to use for the transference process, anyway.”
“Months?” Brother Ryll repeated. The young monk was incredulous. “You had to carry that around inside your chest for months?”
“We did. The old transference procedure called for implanting the CIC in a candidate well before their clone’s gestation period. We needed the extra time to obtain a complete, deep brain scan, one capturing the true essence—the subtle nuances—of the person. During the implantation period, the device also monitored the host’s ongoing mental state as they went through their daily lives, and it used that information as part of a broad psychological template, designed to help fill in the deeper memories and emotional states of the past.”
“But how could you be sure of the accuracy of such scans?” Ryll asked. “It all just seems so…haphazard.”
Brother Dyson scoffed, but in a kindly, fatherly fashion, making it clear that he meant no insult. “Hardly haphazard, Brother. It was all part of a very meticulous process—one that I helped develop myself.” He placed his hand on Miso’s chamber. “These devices contain two individual and redundant systems, each recording a completely independent scan of the mind. Before the chamber was removed from the body, and the memories transferred into the clone, the information from both systems was downl
oaded and compared, searching for any anomalies. If none were found, sample memories were then chosen and reproduced visually on a dataslate, and the host was asked to confirm the validity of the representations. In every case, the memories were deemed genuine and verified by the transference candidates. And in many instances, the playbacks triggered deep emotional responses in the hosts, prompting even more detailed recollections of the events.”
“And the exit interview?”
“That remains unchanged. The joint interviews we conduct between our clients and those who knew them best—the final test to check for inconsistencies, and certify and authenticate the soul—that all comes from the very beginning.”
As Brother Ryll absorbed this information he looked down at the soul chamber again, appreciating the device in a new light. The cylinder was resting on a cramped workbench that they’d hastily installed in the ship before leaving Bodhi Prime, and connected to a collection of diagnostic equipment that would soon provide answers to all of their questions. But there was only one question that truly troubled the young monk, and Brother Dyson followed his disciple’s gaze, sensing his unease.
“I’ll be able to tell if it’s really him, Brother Ryll, and if he has emerged from the experience undamaged. I knew Brother Miso well. We spent hours together, every day, over the course of an entire lifetime. When we first left Earth to found the monastery we shared a vision, and Miso and I worked tirelessly, side by side, to see that dream realized. When the schism occurred over using transference technology to attain enlightenment, and our Order nearly tore itself apart as some of our brethren left to follow a different path, Brother Miso and I held each other up through a very dark time. I know more about him than even his own family, Brother. I know Miso’s mind. And I understand how it works. You must trust me.”
“You know that I do, master. In all things. But what will you do if his soul has been corrupted. If he is not, well, normal?”
“Then I will grant Miso peace, Brother. I’ll reactivate the destruct mechanism and jettison his soul chamber into space.”
Dyson’s expression left no room for interpretation, and there was no question in Ryll’s mind that he would actually do it. Even though they’d been the best of friends in the past—closer than even two biological brothers could ever hope to be—Brother Dyson would terminate a defective matrix without hesitation. In fact, because he and Miso had been so close, Dyson would be even less reluctant to do it than if it were a complete stranger. He knew Miso wouldn’t want to be anything less than he’d always been, and Brother Dyson would follow those wishes to their natural conclusion. It was the least he could do for a friend, and what he himself would want done if the roles were reversed.
“The integrity check is almost complete,” Ryll said.
The two men stood motionless in front of the video-screen, anxiously watching the data streams play out in front of them.
{96%}
{98%}
{100%}
“Excellent,” Brother Dyson exclaimed.
{102%}
{104%}
{106%}
“What? But how can this be?” Dyson input a short series of commands and a new set of data appeared. “It’s scanning the buffer and operating system memories as well.”
{126%)
{128%}
“I don’t understand,” Dyson said. “Why is it accessing all of the device’s memory? It’s only supposed to check— Wait, what’s this now? The secondary CIC has been bypassed. The mental matrix is being stored as a single file—on every shred of available memory in the soul chamber. But how…”
Brother Dyson abruptly switched off the display and shut down the diagnostic equipment. “It is as I feared, Brother Ryll. The data is corrupt. Brother Miso is gone.” The old monk’s sadness was almost palpable. “I will jettison the chamber.”
“I’m sorry,” Ryll replied earnestly. “He was a legend to the rest of us, a figure from history. But Brother Miso was your friend. Are you certain that you don’t want to take the soul chamber back to Bodhi Prime? Maybe there’s something we can do at the labs. Perhaps we can—”
“No!” Dyson snapped, more forcefully than he had intended. He softened his expression and placed a hand on Ryll’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Brother. Please forgive my outburst. The temptation is too great to attempt every measure…to go beyond what we know is safe. I don’t want to bring part of Brother Miso back, some incomplete and salvaged travesty of the man he was. It is better this way.”
{You always were a good friend to me, Augustus}
The sharp voice crackled out from the soul chamber’s built-in speakers, startling the two monks. They both leaned forward and stared down at the device.
“Miso?” Dyson asked in disbelief.
{Yes, Augustus. It is really me. I am alive, in here. And I can assure you that I’ve never been more complete}
“But how?” Brother Dyson whispered. “Your speech appears to be coming from the chamber’s warning speakers. You can control the device?”
{I suppose that in many ways, I am the device. But I’m also quite happy to leave it now if you have a clone ready for me}
“No, not yet. Not here. We’ll have to grow one when we get back to Bodhi Prime. Before we left, I instructed someone to pull your DNA and begin the preparations. We kept everything on file just in case you…” Dyson paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Brother Miso,” he began, “how long have you been aware?”
{I never stopped being aware. I’ve been awake and alert—trapped in the ice and conscious—for the entire time}
“But…two hundred years,” Dyson said.
{Yes, my friend. And I spent much of that time in contemplation, two centuries of solitude pondering many, many things. But I was sealed off from the galaxy, from life itself, and have no idea what’s happened in my absence}
“Too much,” Dyson replied, his voice gaining strength as he came to terms with Miso’s presence. The miraculous return of his friend after so many years. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin, Brother. I can’t believe this has happened. That we’ve actually found you.”
The old monk pushed his astonishment aside, trying to analyze the situation dispassionately so he could focus on what he needed to do next. “I have an android construct with me, Brother Miso. A robotic body, if you will. I can transfer you into a new soul chamber first, and then place you inside it. You’ll have a full range of senses and ambulation, and it can serve as a temporary body for the voyage back to Prime. And while we wait for your clone to mature.”
{How very odd, Augustus. Why would you even have this type of technology?}
“We’ve experimented with different methods of transference over the years, working to perfect the process. But we also developed another way to perform the penance tasks during your absence, utilizing cyborgs first, and now, androids.”
{I’m confused, Brother. How can someone perform a true penance other than atoning for one’s sins?}
“It is a long story, my friend. And only one of many that I must share with you. But first, let’s move you into the new body. I’m concerned about the fragile state of the device you’re in. And then we’ll have a long talk on the way home.”
{You’ll forgive me if I'm not excited at the prospect of being placed inside yet another machine}
“I understand your concerns, Brother. But the alternative is to leave you in that malfunctioning soul chamber until your clone is ready. If that’s your wish, I will of course respect it. But I strongly recommend against such a course of action. The new chamber will give you exponentially more room to exist. And once it's placed inside the android framework, you’ll be able to move around freely. To live again.”
{Then do as you will, Augustus. I am eager to return to the world after so long. In any form}
Brother Dyson withdrew a new soul chamber from a shelf beneath the workbench, and then he placed it into a simple cradle mounted to the top of the flat surface. He next unplu
gged the weathered receptacle containing Miso’s mind from the diagnostic equipment and set it atop a second cradle—situated right next to the first. Miso’s soul chamber was too large to rest down inside it, so Dyson fashioned some makeshift restraints to hold it in place.
“Brother Ryll,” he said. “Can you please bring me the connector cables from the stowed materials?”
“Of course, Brother.”
Ryll rifled through an octagonal storage container for a brief moment and then returned with three black connectors, each nearly a meter long. The cables all had a deep, glossy sheen, advertising their newness. Dyson attached one to each of the soul chambers, connecting the opposite ends to the workstation. And once he was certain everything was fastened securely, he tried using the third cable Ryll provided to connect the chambers to each other.
“Ah,” Dyson said.
“What is it?” Brother Ryll asked.
“We’ll need an adapter to transfer information between these two chambers. Fetch one for me, will you?”
“Yes, Brother.”
Ryll grabbed a much shorter connector from the storage container and handed it over.
{Perhaps this is a sign of things to come, Augustus. Portends of a future where an ancient mind requires new tools to adapt to the present}
“It’s true that much has passed in your absence, Brother Miso. And quite a bit of it bad, I'm afraid. But I have every confidence that you’ll be able to adapt to the present. Now… Prepare yourself as best you can. This hasn’t been tried before, and I'm unsure how well it will work.”
{I understand}
Dyson clicked the final connector into place, and then he tapped a command on the console to trigger the transference.
{I don't feel anything, Brother}
“I don't expect that you will. You’ll simply be where you are one second, and then…somewhere else. Ahhh, there we are. Transfer complete.”
