by David Brush
“Dr. Mercer and Dr. Hall are joining you on the station?” she asked, stepping up alongside Nightrick to take in the last flourishes of the fleet formation.
“They’ll be leading the landing party. While they rendezvous with Field Marshal Corticon, you’ll be parleying with Zarnok. He’s a bit of a ruthless bastard, but I’m sure that you can handle him. I trust you to be diplomatic, of course, but don’t worry too much about it. I don’t anticipate any hostility; they know we’re coming after all.”
CHAPTER TWO
The overhead display in the conference room shimmered slightly as the feed changed over once again. All around the long table in the center of the chamber, the officers who’d been deployed with the Third Fleet sat transfixed on the screen, watching as a large, blue and green globe with two massive continents spun around in open space.
“Dawn!” boomed the deep voice through the speakers. “The jewel of our burgeoning empire!”
“Oh my god,” muttered James, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his leather chair.
“…home to lifeforms from across the entirety of our dominion, Dawn is the largest nature preserve in the history of the human race,” continued the voice, overlaid with footage of pristine landscapes. “Commissioned by Dr. Nightrick a mere four years after the unification of mankind in the face of the sphingian menace, the Ark, as it’s colloquially known, is forbidden to all higher lifeforms except those officially sanctioned by the Imperial Office of Colonial Advancement.” The screen shifted over to a set of graphs. “All biomes known to science are represented on the planet’s surface, separated into distinct, self-sufficient districts by means of natural land features. Species crossover and evolution are left unchecked, except under extreme circumstances.”
James yawned, looking around at the other faces staring blankly at the screen as another set of graphs replaced the old bunch. Of the group, only Commander Katherine Denova sat upright, focusing intently on the film as discussion shifted over to Dawn’s sprawling tributary systems.
“…and so one finds that on the surface, a river is never far away!”
James turned to Dr. Nightrick, who sat at the helm of the table with his hands interlinked in front of him. “This seems like a lot of effort just to tell us that Dawn is exactly the same as Earth.”
Nightrick shook his head, tapping the display screen embedded in the table. At the front of the room, the film cut off. “It’s not exactly the same, which is the point.”
“It’s close enough. Let’s call it a night here, shall we? We’ve been at it all day. I’d rather you jettison me through one of the airlocks than watch another film on the geography of Dawn.”
“Fine, but I’m sure Haley would have enjoyed them. I’ll be sure to send her a copy when we’re done here. And speaking of which, where is she right now?”
“She’s taking care of the final preparations before our deployment tomorrow,” said James, standing up to stretch his legs. He looked around the table again before sitting back down. “Would you mind giving us the room, please?”
The officers filed out one by one. Tang locked eyes with him as she walked over to the door, mouthing “thank you” before disappearing into the corridor.
James waited until the metal door slid shut again. “Still, it’s not like Haley to miss a briefing.”
Nightrick nodded. “Well in fairness to her, I’m sure she’s been keeping up on the dossiers better than anyone. She could probably teach me about Dawn at this point.”
“Probably,” James said with a frown. “I did want to ask you something though while I have you here.”
“Go ahead.”
“Haley’s been complaining of headaches lately. Has that symptom ever presented itself among the Inducted?”
Nightrick nodded. “That’s something we’ve been finding in the last few years. As time goes on, some of the stabilizers start to decay a little. Haley was Inducted what? Fifty-five years ago towards the end of the Corenian Civil War? She’s one of the oldest people to have undergone the therapy.”
“Not like you can tell any more, thank God,” said James with a smile. “I don’t know what I’d do if we ever started aging again.”
“Immortality has its ups and downs, I suppose. On the one hand, everyone looks like they’re in their twenties or thirties, but on the other, who the hell can tell how old anyone is now? You’re a damn dinosaur and you still look exactly the same as you did when we met.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk, old man,” said James, cracking his fingers. “I’d have probably buried your ass two decades ago if it wasn’t for the IMMORTAL Initiative.”
“That’s probably true, unfortunately. But getting back to your question: the solution is simple. We’ll just reapply stabilizers SB12 and SB15, and the headaches should clear up almost immediately.”
“Good, I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear that,” said James, pausing for a moment. “Do you ever think that maybe one day we’ll be beyond the need for Induction? Eugenics programs can only take you so far. Eternal life kind of negates the need for one.”
Nightrick shook his head. “Quite the contrary, James. Eternal life doesn’t diminish the need, it enhances it. We have an empire to fill now. Planets full of strong, smart people will finish carrying humanity into its rightful place as the foremost power in this universe. It’s evolution. The Plague comes, as do all forces of nature, to wipe away the weaker species, and leave room for us, the fitter, to ascend. It’s our time now.”
“Then why even bother trying to cure it? You seem rather cavalier about the whole thing.”
“Don’t misunderstand me,” said Nightrick with a small frown. “Immunity or not, our people will not survive the Plague unless we’re the ones who cure it. It’s our duty really. And once we’ve saved the others, with their tattered planets and weakened fleets, they’ll bend the knee to our kind and see the truth in the old joke the sphinxes used to make at our expense: the sun never sets on the Human Empire.”
James looked across the table at Haley, whose glazed eyes absorbed the candlelight dancing in between the two. “Happy birthday.”
She smiled. “I have to say, I think I’m doing pretty well for seventy-three.”
“Well, you look great,” laughed James. “Not a day over sixty-five.”
“Still younger than you,” she teased, pushing the now-empty dinner plate aside. “So what did you get me?”
“I figured I’d try something new this year,” he said, standing up. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
The couple walked hand in hand out of their dark room and into the brightly lit hallway of the officers’ quarters.
“So,” said Haley. “I’ve been thinking. After we wrap things up on Dawn, we should take a leave of absence for a little while. We haven’t had a proper vacation in years.”
James shook his head. “I’d love to, you know I would, but we can’t right now. Our focus needs to be on the Plague. We can rest once we’ve stopped it.”
Haley looked over at him, catching his eye. “I know, it’s just… I want to try again.”
James felt the blood rush out of his head. “Haley…”
“It’s been long enough, James.”
“I can’t,” he said, looking down. “I can’t go through that again.”
“Losing our son was the most painful thing I’ve ever been through. I carried him for six months, James. I wanted to die after that miscarriage. Your love was the only thing that kept me going. I’ve been thinking about it for months now, and I’ve come to realize that we can’t let that tragedy define us. We wanted a son, and I still do. And I know that even if you’re scared, you do too.”
James caressed the top of her hand with his thumb as they meandered down one of the countless walkways that coiled throughout the Eternity. “You were always enough for me.”
He felt the pressure as she squeezed hard in response. Frowning, he released her hand, pulling free from the tight embrace.
“I’m�
� I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know…”
“It’s fine,” he said, stopping in front of a sealed blast door. After a moment, the barrier shot up. “Look, we’ll talk about this more after we’re done on Dawn.”
“Just promise me that you’ll consider it.”
He nodded, stepping into the crowded hallway. The signature glaze of the Inducted dulled the light reflected from almost every pair of eyes in the corridor. James was among the privileged few aboard the ship who had retained an unadulterated stare. His hazel eyes caught the white light cast from overhead and shone brightly.
The couple pushed their way through the masses, finally turning right into a passage that led to another sealed doorway.
“Turing,” called James, coming to a halt. “Would you get the door, please? I’d like to give Haley her gift now.”
Without a response, the metal barrier slid aside, opening the large hall to the couple. Life from all over the Earth lined the winding, cobblestone path that led through the sprawling foliage. A gentle, artificial breeze caressed their skin as they wandered side by side into the forest.
“James, it’s amazing,” she said, bending down to get a better look at one of the purple flowers poking through the green forest bed. “You built this all for me?”
“I did,” he said, smiling at her. “Coren will always be our home, but every now and then it’s nice to get away from the sand. You deserve a place that’s as beautiful as you are. From now on, this’ll be our private sanctuary on the Eternity.”
“I love it,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.
“Well follow me,” he said, putting his arm on her back. “There’s something else I want you to see.”
They walked farther down the path, finally pausing in front of a towering oak. The behemoth easily dwarfed the surrounding trees, with its wide branches jutting high into the air, forming a singular canopy of sorts. A thick knot of roots plunged deep into the soil, extending down into the deck below.
“It’s from Dunton. I thought this place could use a little touch of home. Amazing though, isn’t it?” said James, tilting his head up towards the top of the giant. “Of all the trees there ever were, this one ended up here, sailing through the sea of space with us.”
Haley nodded, craning her neck up towards the top of the trunk. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tree this large before. I’d bet it’s old, a lot older than the ship anyway. I wonder what things it’s seen in its long and lonely life.”
“The trees see all,” said James, reaching out and putting his palm flat against the rough bark. “They watched us grow from fragile to immortal, stoic in their silence. They’ve seen a thousand wars come and go, and they’ll see a thousand more before we’re done.”
Haley smiled at him playfully. “Do you think they’ll remember us when we’re gone?”
“I hope not,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Some things are best forgotten.”
CHAPTER THREE
Harin frowned as he made his way through the makeshift bazaar that connected his hut to the heart of the shantytown he lived in. Down a ways, through the bustle of bodies surging around it, he could just make out the gigantic, tan tent that served as the camp’s community center. Passing another stall, he nodded at an insect-like hivorian, who clicked its mandibles back at him in a friendly gesture. Brownish dust swelled up all around the large sphinx as his son dragged his feet through the dirt with a smile.
“Stop that now,” said Harin, looking over at the boy. “You’re nearly twelve, a grown man by most accounts. If we were on Sphandaria, you’d be entering the academy this year. You need to start acting like an adult.”
The smile faded from Karo’s face. “Sorry, Dad.”
“It’s time you learn what it means to be a leader, Karo. I’m bringing you to the council meeting today because I think you’re ready. Great men are trained, not born.”
“Will I be a great man one day?”
“Only if you wish to be. In time you’ll find that leadership is in your blood. Our people grow weak and weary from the pestilence, but it can’t last forever. Once it’s over, they’ll need someone strong to look to.”
Karo’s wings fluttered lightly. “Is that why they made you leader of the council? It’s in your blood?”
“Something like that, I suppose. I want you to pay close attention when we arrive. Don’t allow your status as a refugee to define who you are as a person. Conduct yourself like a statesman, and people will treat you like one.”
“I won’t let you down, Dad. I promise.”
“I know you won’t, Karo.”
The duo finally arrived in front of the rawhide canvas that stretched up high over the rest of the structures in the camp. The two large sphinxes standing at attention beside the entry flap nodded an acknowledgement to Harin, pulling the fabric aside.
“Thank you,” he said, walking into the tent behind his son.
The dusty ground had been covered by a large mat, giving the chamber a carpeted appearance. Overhead, holes in the roof allowed sunlight to stream into the room, adding to the light being generated by the glowing tubes positioned strategically around the tent.
“Welcome, Harin,” said a rather small sphinx, who was sitting alone at the circular council table in the center of the room. “And this must be Karo. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The boy bowed lightly. “The pleasure is mine, ma’am.”
“Please, call me Gora,” laughed the woman. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Karo. One day you’ll be ruling us all, by the sounds of it.”
Harin rustled the boy’s hair. “Let’s teach him a little statecraft before we go letting him rule anything.”
“Well, this should be a good lesson then,” she replied, gesturing towards one of the empty seats. “Shall we?”
Harin nodded, rounding the slab and taking his high seat at the far end of the room. Karo sat in the empty chair next to him, scooting up to the table as quietly as he could.
“So why did you ask to meet prior to the assembly tonight?” said Harin. “Has there been any word on the water situation?”
Gora shook her head. “Governor Zuma is insisting that he can’t spare any more water from the colony without causing a major shortage. He keeps assuring us that the humans are doing everything they can to buffer the infrastructure of the camp, but it’s plain to everyone that the influx of new refugees is beginning to tax their resources in a way that they’re ill prepared to handle.”
“So what is the council proposing we do?”
“Well,” she sighed, “they’re calling for demonstrations. The council believes that the humans are holding out on us. They think a large protest will show the apes that we won’t settle for being treated like a second-class species.”
Harin flushed. “Absolutely not. That’s a horrible idea, Gora. Tensions are high enough in the camp as it is. If they try to carry out any organized demonstrations right now, they’ll start a riot. Especially if they continue suggesting that the humans are intentionally harming us.”
“I agree, but they’re prepared to overrule you.”
“How many dissent?”
“All of the council members in this room.”
Harin looked around the empty space, before turning back towards Gora. “Then how do you suggest we block them?”
“We can’t,” she replied, looking down. “Harin… they held an emergency session last night and voted to remove you as chairman of the council. We only have two votes between us now and little room to maneuver otherwise. The demonstrations are set to begin at dusk.”
The large sphinx roared, slamming his fist down on the stone surface before him. “Fools. Does Zuma know about this?”
“Yes, and he shares our concerns.”
“Is he prepared to act? If he has his militia detain the rest of the council, we can calm this storm before it even begins.”
“You’re suggesting we depose the elected members of this council?”
“I’m suggesting we save this camp from itself. A democracy is only as valuable as the people voting in it.”
Gora frowned. “You are your father’s son, no doubt about that. Once you’ve given people freedom, you can’t then take it away when they do something you disagree with. Otherwise, they never truly had it in the first place. You know that I agree with you about the demonstrations, Harin, but I won’t help you delegitimize our system in favor of your rule, and neither will Zuma.”
“Fine,” he said, pushing up from the table. “If you people won’t listen to reason, then so be it. It’s our community that will suffer in the riot, not the humans’.”
“Where are you going?” asked the woman as Harin started to march away with his son.
“To defend my homestead, as should you. Once those imbeciles let loose the simmering rage, this camp will burn, and we’ll burn with it if we’re not careful.”
The Eternity floated through the black sea towards Dawn, rapidly closing the meager distance between the ship and the planet. Dr. Nightrick stood near the giant viewport at the front of the command deck with his arms wrapped behind his back, watching the green and blue sphere grow progressively larger. Off in the distance, he could just make out the orbital station looming over the planet. It looked like a large, metallic I that had been turned sideways. Highly efficient solar panels lined the jutting wings that hung off of the side, powering the platform indefinitely.
While the doctor had ordered a message be sent to the sphinxes immediately upon arrival, he’d yet to receive so much as an acknowledgement from their fleet. The silence was slowly beginning to grind at his nerves.
“Try reaching out to them again,” said Nightrick, looking over at one of the young techs sitting behind a nearby communication console. The operator brought the relay online and fired off another signal towards Dawn, above which the sphingian fleet was already in orbit. Nightrick stood there in silence, mulling over what to make of the situation, before finally hearing the ping of an incoming transmission.
