by M E Wise
“My programming is the essence of the individuals imprinted on it; in my case, five exemplary beings of the Mor’h Perseverance Library. Sal Mor’h Tah’l was a great scientist and engineer, Engit Mor’h Tah’l was a sociologist, historian and art scholar for two examples. Salian design is the very core of Mor’h architecture and…” Hermes trails on.
I interject, “Sal’s works lead to the many advancements in biotechnology that make Mor’h life possible. Blah, blah, blah.” In my irritation I often want to find this Lo’Nor’s matrix, rip it out and take my chances on phase jumping into a star!
“I see you are still harboring contention for my accumulative being.” Hermes says as if to be bored with the concept. “After all, we have traveled a great distance together; I hoped you had adapted to our union.”
“Hope! Union? Do any of your consciences find it odd that you all refer to each other from a sixth indistinct personality from the five? You could literally be feeling things in five different ways at the same time! It’s annoying and confusing.” Hermes has yet again managed to tap into my human patience and wear it thin. “Hermes please run silent for at least the next light year!” I say eyeballing the ceiling.
“Run? Reign I do not run! We navigate at a very complex level. Where would we get a foothold in space to run?” The collective persists.
“Quiet please!” The closed quarters and the amplified sound are just too much. I glide gently through the zero gravity toward the cargo section which has been converted into living quarters and two labs. The communications lab is where I am headed to see some familiar faces; alien or not to mine, they will help distract me from these anxieties. Sure, Hermes functions at a higher level of complexity because it possesses this mini-council at its core but they didn’t think to restrain any of those personalities. The sixth, more authentic version of Hermes is only an amalgamation for the other five. The voices even change and blend oddly, it’s creepy really! I barely have enough energy to filter my own personality. Give a machine a mind and an infinite battery and it won’t shut up.
From portal to portal the view of space is awe inspiring. When traversing some nebulae, the colors will fill the ship and for a moment my perception is literally painted anew. I could not perceive how transformative this trip has been. And I am certain I will never be the same after. Two societies will never be the same. Two worlds may never be the same. Thinking ahead about it is like being awestruck with possibility. Anything can happen! Compared to life on Mor’h everything out here is left to my own solutions, my own experience. Floating freely and the little movement helps calm the nerves.
Our path has been a series of phase jumps, some controlled harnessing of galactic power that folds space and flashes us from star to star. I am not too sure of how this works. When questioned about such things Mor’h always say to trust my roots. I am again guessing that this is referring to the sharing in my genetic memory, some latent portion of my Mor’h physiology yet expressed in the unshared world. At times I question whether all of it will ever be shared. The other half of our exodus of one is plotting for the next jump while drifting. The size of our vessel effects the distance of our shifts according to T’laj and Q’ua Z, larger Mor’h vessels can jump from galaxy to galaxy from what I understand or remember from my studies. Their small craft like the bell can shift like the Hermes77 and short jump to array that focus similar celestial signatures as stars. The array around Mor’h, and now the extensive and elaborate array that encloses the Sol system, allow for quick travel from nearby planets, asteroids in close proximity to the local star or stars.
In the space between jumps I spend my time either staring out into the vast abyss or studying messages from Mor’h. This is occasionally disrupted by a deep space link for either a status-check or more false-smiling, to assure me that I am not forgotten. Forgotten, such a concept often crossed my mind. Growing up among the Mor’h I never felt as one rooted in their soil, to use their terminology. My seed had drifted and through either forcible transplantation or cosmic selection in the accidental biology of life I was a being out of place; a person once removed. My life has become a fulcrum balancing the future by lifting them to understanding or failing and allowing the weight to shift and fall where it may.
Something about this deep isolation is both comforting and terrifying. When the terror climbs higher into my spine I find an interface and break free of the feeling when meditation fails. I cannot link with Mor’h technology very well yet but that is improving. I do not know if this is a Human versus Mor’h thing but I have to settle for old fashioned button pushing and stream viewing. Part of me enjoys the entertainment.
I wonder if all humans find such voyeuristic abandon to their liking? Their holohistory seems to affirm this as I have seen images of finely crafted films that mimic life but are pure fantasy. These are offset with something called news or documentaries. I must have watched days or weeks worth of both in my time on Mor’h. The Mor’h made certain I knew where I came from, teaching me the language, the mannerisms and letting me connect with Earth life even if it was at a distance.
Upon entering Lab1, the message icon blinks on and off giving me a brief sigh of relief. I log in to see several messages; a couple routine and two labeled personnel. I am sure they are mislabeled and were supposed to say personal but the Mor’h never seem to agree on what that means. The exceptions they have made for me were never so profoundly evident until recently. Like these messages, the Mor’h don’t have mail! That’s purely a human ideal. So these messages are usually fun.
“MESSAGE PERSONNEL: SUBJECT REIGN” Reads the greeting. It is insincere in the lexical only, knowing what I do of S’lei. Her streaming recording takes a moment to come in clear as the entry is reassembled. At first she is looking to the side awkwardly away from the camera when she begins, “I hope the universe finds you well Reign!” She pauses realizing her incorrect placement while adjusting. “Not meaning you are lost of course.” She says with her usual tilt of the head. Her English is improving and the annunciation is more sure than before. She smiles and pauses for a short time. I do believe she is trying to link not fully understanding this form of communication doesn’t work that way. It is humorous and I laughed loudly.
I can almost smell the radiance of the Tah’l as I watch her try to compose herself at this point. “Forgive my clumsy telling. I should be adjusted to this before trips end. Our council once again is bound by your courage. Our links are commonly filled with desire to know such separation. Humans are truly gifted a wanderlust absent Mor’h ways.” Hearing this was unsettling. I looked to these messages from home for the attachments they remind me of. Out here I am only one being, one alien encounter away from uncertainty and S’lei inadvertently sets me aside the whole. “Many of our people have begun to act differently after your sharing with the council. It is a unique and wonderful effect. You bring light to our soil.” She says and ends the message.
And as quickly as I was bothered, I am resigned to feel the warmth of my connection to the Mor’h. I find my reflection in the glowing screen and I am smiling. Then I select the next message from Q’ua Z. “RECORDING: ASSIGNMENT REIGN MOR’H” is scribed to the attached stream. It is the first time I have ever seen my name given the distinction of Mor’h. The moment causes a clinching in my stomach and I take a deep breath. Having an identity is more overpowering than anything I have experienced before. It is not our possession yet it is our first possession. And like most things, the reality of such assignment categorized by Qz here is not of our choosing. Clearly though the effort has been made to show the Mor’h have chosen me.
“Greetings Human!” Jests Q’ua Z. My mouth hung open at the strange salute. “A joke is ceremonious to many Earth exchanges.” He smiles thinly disarming me. Whatever Qz intended I think he may have missed the mark. “Your Lo’Don’s have found more free time in your absence. Although since your sharing with the council they have been requested company in many tellings. In essence their time is no
t free.” His delivery is very Qz. “Remember to engage in studies and lessons often to keep the stillness from causing you restlessness. Recalling your early behavior leads me to conclude you are predictably unpredictable when bored.”
Q’ua Z’s messages are always a chore but something in their tone had a way of making me feel on the defensive. What could be argued only suggestions come with such limited inflection and poor delivery that they can only be felt as orders. As a child I often rebelled against his instruction. Such conflicts in personality garnered myself quick substitutes in Lo’Don who didn’t share his and my brotherly infighting. I did see Qz as a brother more than instructor because of his size comparatively to mine growing up. With every reconstitution he went through when being cloned again and again he seemed to be more young than old.
“Communications with Hermes have established you’re well kept. All monitored attributes and body functionality are within safe parameters. Feel free to address this report if faulty.” The message ends abruptly, or promptly by Qz’s standards. Attached and scrolling on the screen are logs of my bioscans that are tracked constantly and sent to Mor’h daily. I faked flat lining my bio-signs by removing my vacuum suit and stuffing it with whatever I could find. I never received so much as a message much less a rescue. Maybe the Hermes told the truth and left me to idol waiting. I am certain there was no humor to be found in the joke save my own. A story about a boy and some canine vaguely came to mind. I will have to find reference in the holohistories.
“Prepare for jump Reign.” The phase shift was complete. “Phase jump on your command.”
I take one last look at the green and blue haze of this expanse in space. As we get closer and closer to the Sol system, memories of Mor’h scroll through my mind. I adjusted my vacuum suit and buckled myself into a secure chamber for the jolting slingshot across space. Or is it time? Understanding the basics of something is a blessing and a curse. I understand Humankind along the same lines. It could be argued that everything about our misplaced attempt at shepherding peace is a misplaced dream. I’m hoping it won’t become a nightmare.
I am alone. I am at peace. I have learned solitude.
Reign Chapter 6
Pluto’s Belt
Flash.
Tearing free from the shift I am shaking and nauseated as I had been several times before. Safety tethers hold me gently in place and I am protected by my vacuum suit to the cold. The Hermes replica seats two in the cockpit, it is a confined space; much more so than the rest of the craft. Making this last jump required me to be in the pilot’s seat, as it was the last before Sol space. Popping into open space; even outside of Pluto’s Belt, risks being spotted by a human vessel. Holoviews had shown that there was human activity along the debris anchored there by the Mor’h arrays, some military and some apparently rogue vessels. The Mor’h had done a great job hiding the array stations, it would seem they weren’t aware of them.
These rogue vessels seemed odd in both behavior and make. Privateers maybe? Some clichéd remnant of scavengers that litter human history; pirates, looters or simple collectors out to make a find they can receive some reward in. Humans still had the strange reliance on currency to provide them with necessities both real and imposed by their states. The Mor’h were never truly able to get the idea across in their teaching. They gave me holos to study about finance, economy and banking. Banking was something the Mor’h could somewhat express.
“We built a bank of knowledge, a system of preservation and we catalogued the worth of our rooting.” Solemnly expressed Qz in one discussion. “We put value on a few. They were the best growth. They were our Tah’l. They were trusted.” I remember how Q’ua Z seemed very different when he uttered those words. I felt something odd in a telling that he tried to hide but he was so distracted it came through as something I had known. Regret? Almost anger but the Lo’Mor’h rarely if it all showed anything of a true emotion.
Hermes began using the vintage short-burst navigation boosters to align us with a trajectory into the belt and through the debris. A signal was sent to the nearest sentry triangulation that a Mor’h vessel was to pass through. I had seen ships that had crashed into asteroids and other wrecked human crafts trying to traverse the belt in the counsel sharing. It was like watching Insectae test a plasma barrier one after another until a different light caught their attention. Each dissolved one behind the other never making it through. Some flashes of sharing had humans launching large yield explosives into the belt only to be vaporized in the impact and become part of the debris fields ornamentation. Strangely none of these vessels appeared official or military. Deep space wasn’t safe or lucrative yet so maybe these were only errant auto-piloted ships?
I was torn by the sight! One half of my being was caged and dying to escape a prison by a hidden foe, the other part aligned with only a vague concern to keep an experiment in check. And now as the Hermes vessel slowly aims my view into the reality of Pluto’s Belt I see the horrific magnitude of it! It wasn’t the humans who gave the belt its name. Before Pluto’s belt was the Kuiper Belt. They had a name for it, explored by unmanned probes and satellites. Could the belt be letting only unmanned craft through? That would explain no effort to destroy the array on a massive scale.
The light of the Sol sun blasts eerie shadows through porous scraps and portions of ships easily the size of my vessel. Rock from meteors smashing together held scars of human innovation pulverized and planted on their frigid surfaces. Massive asteroids hung like giant guardians against the pitch of the galaxy’s black vastness encompassing everything. Knowing what the array could do, never matched what the belt had done! I could not take in the scope of it nor could I ever imagine the fear or helplessness this cage could have for all that remained inside of it. The ingenious design hid it so well; they may not be aware it was mechanical.
“We are approaching and entering the debris field Reign.” Announced Hermes.
I released my restraints and pressed my hands against the forward viewport. We banked and moved painfully slow with the sounds of venting air coming from all sides responding to the randomness of our pathway. At first it was only mineral and rock. Eventually other metal in a more forged state appeared angular and symmetrical. I knew what was coming and no matter how I tried to convince myself of the collateral necessity of this trap; the prey must have suffered when caught. Suffered and died.
“Reign…” Hermes paused cautiously. The many personalities in his matrix more than likely sorting out the most human advice to give. “The blast shutters can be applied to shield us from the panic of collision and sensory stimuli that may also come from pending gruesome discoveries.” The greater quality of the Hermes collective was that it could access huge amount of information and assimilate it into its delivery. This attempt at compassion was a quick study attempt.
“From the pending theatre of death you mean!” I quickly interrupted the com. “And not my own! This isn’t a solution. We can’t cage them at their own expense.”
“Your reaction is expected Reign. We have already taken this into consideration. You must however remain rooted.” Hermes dictated with the warble of layered electronic voices. I appreciate the effort to calm me even if it is an artificial set of personalities. I need to look up the records of the Mor’h who once lived as these minds and make mental note of them when present.
I stared blankly forward. “I am firmly here Hermes. This is my mission. Proceed blinder free.”
We made clear of a frozen asteroid and moved into a tightly packed field made up of obvious earthen vessels. There lay miles of unfortunate residence in both a scrap yard and resting spot for the passengers therein. Hermes drifted terribly close to the starboard side of a ship torn in two. The urge to see what was inside was both a curiosity and a cry for flight away from the window. But I remained vigil. Hard lines ran the sides and traced curved sheets of metal. Light from our vessel and through the irregularly broken port side fought each oth
er to reveal passage ways, seats and storage. Old crates and parcels floated through the scene as if it were a comical maquette of the hallowed surroundings. And I began to make out a distinctly more familiar form.
The silhouette drifted aimlessly. I cringed as I fully realized what I was seeing. A person, a human-being frozen solid and staring blankly downward at the vessels floor positioned like a marionette. I tried desperately to close my eyes and couldn’t. I braced my feet to the floor as low gravity squeezed at my stomach. His person turned slightly and our eyes met for a brief eternity! The first man I ever would see is dead no more than a few yards from me; floating in a deep slumber amongst a wrecked ship once no doubt an efficient form of safe travel, on a treacherous trek unknowingly onto this abrupt end. I watched him as we passed only to see a dozen or more corpses in and about the same lofty gravesite in their endless motions like a morbid dance. I turned away as the sun rose over the carapace and gratefully stole my sight.
No longer than a minute separated my flight of intrusion and respects did something alarm me. “Hermes!” I shouted as I saw a light shine back our way. It was intentional unlike a reflection. The beam was of another vessel, one looking into the depths of the Belt and it was just outside the waiting reach of the array! “Is it on the censors? How did we not get early warning?”
