Star Warrior

by Isaac Hooke

  Tane took another sip. “Actually it’s not bad.” He held out his glass. “A toast. To... survival.”

  “To survival,” Sinive said, and clinked his glass. They drank.

  “I still can’t believe I can Siphon,” Tane said after a moment.

  “It’s quite the feeling, isn’t it?” Sinive said.

  “I’ll say,” Tane agreed. “I might actually be able to achieve some of my dreams. If the TSN and the Volur don’t mess it up.”

  “Like I said, all the more reason to hide out here for a while,” Sinive told him.

  It didn’t take long for the order to arrive. The robot gave Tane a plate of some sort of stringy noodles with a piece of charred meat on top, the whole shebang slathered in tomato sauce.

  “The hell is this?” Tane said. He scooped one of the long strings into the air with his utensil.

  “Unleavened dough,” Sinive said. “With a game bird. Exactly as requested.” She dove into her own dish, which seemed to be some sort of fish stuffed with apple slices.

  “By the way I’m sending you the Branchwork for Essence Missile,” Sinive said while she ate. “You can use it to practice.”

  Tane accepted the share request and a holographic image of a small bush-like object appeared in front of him. The intricate designs of the Branches and needle-like Leaves floored him.

  “All you have to do is Siphon the Essence into the same pattern,” Sinive said. “I find it helps to overlay the hologram above the Essence while you’re shaping it.”

  “Looks extremely painful,” Tane said. “This is one complex design.”

  “No one ever said it was going to be easy,” Sinive said. “Why do you think Wayala charges one hundred thousand credits for a level one proficiency in the skill?”

  “How did you get this hologram?” Tane asked.

  “I picked it up on the black market a few years ago,” Sinive said. “While I was still in the navy. I figured, you never know when you might need something like that in a pitch. I didn’t realize how weak my actual Essence Missiles would be when I finally got it to work, though.”

  Tane tapped the armband on her bicep. “Not so weak anymore, huh?”

  “Yeah, about that,” Sinive said. “There was no way she should have sold me such a valuable artifact this cheap. No way.”

  “That’s a bit... unsettling,” Tane said.

  “Yeah,” Sinive said. “My guess is, there’s something wrong with it. With my luck, it’ll probably make me burn out when I use it.”

  “Or maybe the design is shoddy,” Tane said. “I heard that poorly designed Chrysalium objects break down fast.”

  “That could be it, too,” Sinive said between a mouthful of fish. “I’ll use it once, or a few times, and it’ll dissolve right off. Ah well, it was a nice dream.”

  During dinner Tane pulled up a list of all local private short term rentals on his HUD. The rates were disappointingly high—five hundred credits minimum per night for most of them, and those were the two stars. But the hotels were even more expensive.

  He picked out a room in a nearby short termer and had Sinive handle the reservation and payment. “Seeing as you’re the rich one here,” Tane explained.

  “Oh really?” Sinive said. “Well since I’m the one spending the money, I might as well pick a place I like.”

  Eventually she backed down and went with his choice when she realized how sparse the affordable selections were. His short termer selection—a vacation condo rented out by a married couple—was the most reasonably priced place within walking distance. She made the booking during dinner and received the confirmation a few minutes later.

  “My fake ID has been authorized,” Sinive said with a smile.

  When they finished dinner they headed straight for the rental.

  It proved a modest room in one of the colonial-era palaces that overlooked the city’s famous Origins Square. From the balcony, Tane could see the glass dome in the middle of the square that contained chunks of the space ice originally used to terraform the moon. In the center of the dome was a frozen pool housing preserved samples of the first phytoplankton injected into the resultant seas to oxygenate the atmosphere. Tourists gathered around outside the dome to read the digital signage and to take selfie videos with their insect-sized auto-follow drones.

  Tane set all of his gear next to the long table by his bed, and while Sinive took a sonic shower, he sat on the bed, intending to take a crack at the Essence Missile Branchwork. But before he could project the hologram, the notification icon flashed in the lower right of his HUD.

  He had received a message from his dad.

  He set it to play back in the center of his vision. Mom and Dad sat on a bed like him, in what was obviously some hotel—Tane could see the brand labels on the pillows behind them.

  “Son,” Dad said. “We got your message. I just wanted to say I’m glad you got off the planet. I hope this message finds you well, and that you’ve reached your destination.” Dad had obviously taken to heart what Tane had mentioned in his last message about the authorities potentially listening in. “We’re still waiting to hear from the person your with. If we don’t hear from her soon, we might try to arrange passage out of here ourselves. We just have to find a way to shake these robots of hers. Stay safe.”

  Mom was smiling, tears in her eyes. “Stay safe.”

  The video clicked off.

  Tane considered his response for a few seconds, but then decided he’d answer tomorrow morning. There wasn’t really anything new he could tell them anyway. And from the sound of it, they thought he was on Talendir already. Maybe it was better to let them think that.

  He debated whether or not to send a message to Lyra. If he wanted to stay here on this moon for a while, keeping in the shadows, it was probably best if he didn’t contact her at all. But in the end he decided he owed her at least the courtesy of an update, if only for saving his life in the Umbra. If she was still trapped there, the message would remain queued throughout the postal system up to a week before bouncing. But if she was indeed back, she would receive it whenever the interstellar postal system delivered it to whatever system she currently resided in.

  “Hey,” Tane said. “I hope you’ve made it back with our companions in one piece. I’m on the same moon we were on before losing contact.” There was no point in leaving that out of the message, since the sender source field would show the moon as 57A. That data could be spoofed, but he didn’t have the knowledge. She would suspect he was in Daaena, the capital city, anyway, but she wouldn’t know precisely where. “I’m with the jump specialist. We’re all right. Keeping a low profile for the time being. Anyway, I just wanted to update you. I’m sure I’ll be hearing back from you eventually, one way or another.”

  After sending the message, Tane finally projected the hologram Sinive had shared with him, placing the outline of the Essence Missile Branchwork on the table in front of him, precisely over the wavering ribbon of Essence that emerged from his chest. He tried three or four times to duplicate the design, but his Branches were messy, and ended up nothing like the original; all he succeeded in doing was tiring himself out. By the time Sinive was done her shower he could barely keep his eyes open.

  “You’re not taking a shower?” Sinive asked. She was wearing a bathrobe, and had a towel wrapped around her head as she scooted into her own bed. There was no sign of her armband: he didn’t think she was wearing it underneath the bathrobe, as the bulky material would have made a slight outline, he thought. She must have shoved it and all of her clothes into her personal storage device, whose slight bulge he could discern in one of the robe pockets.

  “Shower?” Tane said. “No, maybe tomorrow.”

  “How do you expect to have sex with me tonight then?” Sinive said.

  Tane smiled weakly. “Har har.”

  “No, I’m serious,” Sinive said. To her credit, she managed to keep a straight face.

  Tane shrugged. He totally didn’t believe her
, and he wasn’t going to fall for her trick.

  “I’m too tired to have sex with you.” He lay on his side, turning away. She was definitely kidding.

  Or was she?

  “Suit yourself,” Sinive said. “I’ll just call room service then.”

  “You do that,” Tane said. “By the way, it’s not sexual room service, you know. It’s just ordinary room service.”

  “Not the way I order it,” Sinive said.

  “Better be careful what you wish for,” Tane said, playing along. “You never know what you’re going to get with room service. Afterward, you might find yourself curled into the fetal position and sucking your thumb.”

  A pillow slammed into his back.

  “Hey!” Tane turned around. “That was uncalled for.” He couldn’t keep the humor from his voice.

  He threw the pillow right back at her and Sinive laughed.

  “How did you know I was kidding?” Sinive said.

  “It was fairly obvious,” Tane said.

  “Humph,” Sinive said. “If I was serious, would you?”

  “Would I what?” Tane said.

  “Have sex with me!” Sinive said. “You’re really going to make me spell it out, aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” Tane said. “I want you to feel as awkward and uncomfortable as possible.”

  “Gee thanks,” Sinive said.

  “Well what did you expect?” Tane said. “Bringing up something like that?”

  “So you keep deflecting my question,” Sinive said. “Would you, or would you not?”

  “Have sex with you?” Tane said. He chuckled. “Probably not.”

  The pillow came flying at him again.

  “No really!” Tane said. “I mean, you’re attractive, one of the most attractive women I’ve ever known. But I’m seriously too tired. I understand now why you can barely walk after attempting to make a distortion jump. I’ve only done a little bit of Siphoning, and that, combined with the rough day we had, well, let’s just say I’m drained to the core. Apparently the weariness that follows Siphoning gets better over time, if the memory dump I got from the nanotech is anything to go by. Still, it makes me wonder how those organic machines we got running the planet-side gates can do it all day long.”

  Sinive folded her arms under her breasts and lay back. “I’m actually too tired myself.” She was quiet for a time, and Tane eventually thought she must have gone to sleep. He was just about to dim the lights via his HUD when she spoke again. “You know, I was convinced we were going to die out there. In the Umbra. And never return to our own universe. Especially after you picked up that crystal.”

  “Yeah, that was pretty dumb, in retrospect,” Tane said. “I don’t know why I did that. I just seemed drawn to the thing, if you can believe it.”

  She paused a moment before continuing. “I just... I worry... every day could be our last. We’re not going to live forever. None of us are. Some of us will live a long time, sure. But it’s not guaranteed. We have to take advantage of the time we have. Not let opportunities pass us by. That’s all I wanted to say.”

  Tane heard the regret in her voice, and he had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe she had been serious about hooking up with him after all...

  She sat up slightly. “Can I have my pillow back by the way? These stupid beds only come with one of them. You’d think, for the price we were paying, they could at least provide two pillows per bed.”

  Tane tossed the pillow back to her. A part of him wondered if there was any way to salvage the situation, but in truth even if there was, he really didn’t have the energy for it. The weariness was seriously pulling him under. He wondered how those heroes in spy vids could make love right after the conclusion of a three-day mission. The answer was obvious: it wasn’t real.

  Wait.

  He opened his eyes, remembering he had complete access to his endocrine system. Some fiddling with his ephedrine and testosterone levels, and maybe a quick order of some certain blue pills from room service, and he’d be good to go.

  Except he felt too weary even for that.

  He used the HUD interface to dim the lights and then closed his eyes. The air conditioning in the room was a little loud, and he tried to adjust it on his HUD but had no success. Even so, in no time at all he was out cold.

  TANE WOKE up late the next morning. He remotely activated the curtain using the controls on his HUD and rubbed his eyes when the sunlight from the orbital mirrors flooded in.

  He glanced at Sinive, whose long breaths told him she was still asleep.

  “Rise and shine, sleepy head,” Tane told her. He reached across with one foot and gently nudged the side of her bed. She didn’t move. He chuckled. “You sleep like a log. By the way, I want to be clear: what I said last night about you being attractive? Well I lied. You’re so ugly, you make a farm recycling droid look good.” He playfully nudged the bed again, harder this time. She didn’t move. “Sinive?”

  Her drawn-out breathing continued. Now that he thought about it, those expirations sounded more like strained wheezing rather than anything normal.

  He immediately got up, went to her bed, and shook her directly.

  Sinive was unresponsive.

  Tane turned her around. Her face was extremely pale. He lowered the top of her bathrobe to take a peak at her shoulder, and gasped in shock.

  Black tendrils seeped out from underneath the bandage, seemingly following the path of her arteries and veins like a bacterial infection would. Except he knew of no bacterial infection that could make the blood vessels and surrounding skin appear so dark.

  It had to be microcrillia. And yet, he thought those microscopic creatures from the Umbra died the instant they were brought back into this universe. Maybe that wasn’t the case if the microcrillia were inside a human body…

  He remembered Sinive’s ominous words from the night before. “Every day could be our last.”

  She knew she wasn’t going to make it through the night. She must have. Then again, maybe she only had an idea that she wouldn’t. A worry. Perhaps she saw that the blackness was spreading. And maybe she thought she’d get it dealt with in the morning.

  And now it was too late.

  23

  Tane shook himself.

  She’s not dead yet.

  He called the condo’s help desk. “I’ve got a medical emergency in room forty-five. Call an ambulance, and send up any paramedic robots you have on staff immediately.”

  “We don’t have any official paramedics,” the AI at the other end of the connection replied. “But we do keep maintenance robots onsite. They are equipped with medical dumps. I will send them up and have the closest hospital dispatch a flyer.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Your account will be charged one thousand credits,” the AI said.

  Normally an unexpected fee like that would have angered him, but he didn’t even care at that point.

  “Whatever it takes,” Tane said.

  He disconnected and checked Sinive’s public profile, confirming that her ID was still spoofed. He hoped the odd name she’d chosen didn’t attract attention, and that her TSN mole had made the necessary changes at the registry office by now. Still, if her face was caught by a city security cam, her true identity would be revealed. The robots coming up to the room might ID her by her features, too. Or they might identify his own face—he had no idea how many of the robots on the property were linked into the city’s security mixnet, and thus had access to the facial recognition cloud. Privacy rights were supposed to prevent robots from performing such IDs on private property, however, but he wasn’t sure what rights applied in this district, as every planet was different. But as he had that thought, he knew that 57A did indeed observe those rights, thanks to his chip.

  Just to be on the safe side, Tane kept his hood pulled low over his face when the robots arrived. They had some medical skill, but without paramedic equipment the onsite maintenance robots were relativ
ely useless. They checked her pulse and breathing, and examined her infection, giving a diagnosis of “sepsis due to external trauma.” But otherwise they did nothing. To their credit, they appeared to be communicating with actual paramedics the whole time, relaying pictures of the wound and her current condition.

  The ambulance flyer arrived shortly. It hovered outside the balcony and lowered its ramp onto the railing, allowing the paramedic robots to load her directly.

  Tane insisted on coming along; he had already taken the personal storage device from her belt, and secured it alongside his own. He left his D18 inside his own pouch, as well as his grenade harness and shield generator. He didn’t want to intimidate the emergency responders, after all. Some robots refused to give treatment if they spotted any weapons.

  Once he was aboard, the flyer proceeded to the closest medical institution, labelled Alexander de Graaf Hospital on Tane’s map.

  The flyer landed on a rooftop platform and the paramedics took Sinive straight to the emergency ward.

  Tane followed them inside, but he was stopped almost immediately by two imposing combat robots: scepter models with non-animated visors, armed with plasma rifles.

  For a second Tane worried the robots had recognized his face, since in his concern for Sinive he had forgotten to raise his hood, but then one of the robots pointed to the digital signage beside Tane, which read in big bold red letters:

  All weapons must be surrendered, including those carried in personal storage devices.

  Tane quickly raised his hood and then with a sigh retrieved the D18 from his pouch. He offered it to the closest robot. The faceless machine wordlessly pointed to a nearby counter set in the wall, manned by a primitive looking droid that was literally a tube with two pincers for arms.

  Tane placed the D18 down on the table.

  “Thank you.” The droid snatched up the weapon and it disappeared under the counter.

  Tane removed the harness from his storage device, and then took the grenades out of the harness one by one, and as he placed them on the counter the check-in droid spirited them away under the counter with a similar “thank you” for each of them.