Our cause was hopeless. The world had been turned against us. What was left of the world fought us as valiantly as the alien aggressors. Humanity lost millions. Our home had become our enemy had become our tomb.
It was then that we realized that our cause, our existence was truly lost.
* * *
Our destiny should have been out there, among the stars. We should have been learning, exploring and growing into the great beings that we thought we were. Our hubris allowed us to give up on that hope and in turn it came back to not only to haunt us but to define our demise. On that little chunk of rock, hurtling through space; alone and isolated, we would die. But if we were to cease we would make one last grasp at immortality. We would never be among the stars, but we would protect those that were. We would make a stand, our final stand, to keep them from destroying anyone else.
One leader was elected to tell the world. We would make our sacrifice with dignity.
* * *
They dispersed the nuclear attack in the widest swath possible creating converging fields of atomic fire. If they came for our resources, our land, our planet, us; we would burn it all out from under them. The explosion would cause the first wave of destruction. The fallout would take the rest. The only place in existence that we were certain could contain human life, and we obliterated it.
The fallout waves, radiation poisoning, nuclear winter. Life, human life, the brief bit of it that remained following the annihilation, was lived among an unceasing hellscape. We died slow and agonizing deaths. But more agonizing was the fact that They, the Aliens, the invaders, did not. They explosions hurt them. It damaged their structures, killed some of them; but the radiation did nothing to them except make them desperate. They redoubled their efforts. They salvaged what they could. Our world was nothing to them but an object lesson of what happens when you push a species beyond its breaking point.
They learned it well.
A world poisoned beyond salvaging would do nothing for them. It would not sustain them, it would not nourish them. That beings were capable of self-immolation out of fear and desperation was nothing that they had encountered before. In this we had won, we had shown them the depths of our resolve. In this we had taught them how to be more efficient conquerors. WE taught them how to fight with humanity.
They found me on the verge of death, wasting away. They placed me in one of their pods and healed me. Changed me. Transformed me. Through their pod I learned to communicate with them. They made me part of them. What we had done could never be done to them again. They needed a voice.
* * *
I stand before you the sole survivor of the self-initiated xenocide of seven billion people.
The lesson they learned I give to you now: One percent of your population will be allowed to survive. You may carve out a piece of your world to keep for yourself. The rest is theirs. They will take from it everything they need but they will allow you the one thing my people never had; hope. This lesson comes with one caveat: submit. Here. Now. Put up no resistance. Accept your fate. Many of you will die so that few of you may live.
I can sense in you reluctance. A need to fight. A desire to prove that you can stand, and fight and win. I assure you; you cannot. No world has. No world will. There is no victory to be had here. If you do not submit and acquiesce to me here and now there will be no part of your world that is not stripped bare. None of you will survive.
Go now.
Mourn your losses.
Celebrate your existence.
Fight if you must.
But know that these are your end times.
For I am The Harbinger and what follows me are the breakers of worlds.
MY BROTHER’S KEEPER by Erik R. Van Asch
Dayton Carnegie matched the buildings in the image capture with the view from the north side of Chantry Street. He couldn’t appreciate enough the fact that Joe Samuels from Intelligence, a friend from his time during the Andromeda War, offered to use a few AI cycles to find this isolated location. Joe had been an easy sell, once Dayton explained to him that he needed help tracking down his estranged brother, Alec.
“What happened?” Joe had asked.
“My parents said they last received a brief, cryptic com from Alec over six months ago. Since then they’ve lost track of him. All they could help me go on was this image capture that was attached to the com.” Dayton showed Joe the image of Alec, who was five years younger than Dayton’s twenty-five. Alec smiled and waved, the image of a settlement behind him.
“Joe, you know it’s hard for me to admit when I’ve failed at something.” Joe rolled his eyes, then refocused on Dayton and smiled. Dayton didn’t seem to notice, but continued, “But I know I’ve never been the friend an older brother should be to a sibling. I realize that now. Yes, Alec has always been swayed by bad influences, but I never gave it much thought, since I was stuck in my own world. I feel bad about that. So? Could you help me track him down?”
Relief flooded through Dayton. He never realized how much confession helped the soul.
For someone who worked in Intelligence, Joe asked few questions. He transferred the image to his main system with little comment. It took the AI two minutes to find the image’s location. Three weeks later Dayton had landed on the planet Primus VII and now stood on the street in the image.
As Dayton made his way down the walkway past the shops and residence he caught his reflection in the window of a mining supplies shop. Dayton was six foot of lean muscle. His cropped, brown hair was hidden by a baseball cap with the Cappa Colony Roadrunners logo. He wore a charcoal grey hooded sweatshirt over a navy blue t-shirt, tucked into khaki cargo pants and an off-brand hybrid shoe good for hiking or running. His training had taught him to keep his head down, slouch when he walked and slow his gait so it wasn’t as obvious he was a member of the Cosmic Conglomeration Special Operations team.
He came up on a small drinking lounge called, Buster’s Lounge, and entered. The low lighting and the hushed conversations made the lounge feel dark and moody. It had a musty smell that Dayton couldn’t pinpoint its origins. A soft jazzy horn piece played through the hidden speakers spread across the establishment.
To his right, Dayton watched as a man in dirt covered overalls spoke into the self-service machine. After scanning his sub-dermal ID for payment, the machine hummed for a few seconds before producing the man’s ordered drink. The worker took his drink and joined a table with two others in similar dress.
The three men were talking quietly and stopped when Dayton approached them. Dayton slouched more and tried to look nervous and timid.
“Hi guys. Sorry to bother you, but I could really use your help in finding my brother,” he said holding up his handheld to the men. The image of Alec on Chantry Street looked back at them. Humorless faces looked between the image of a smiling Alec and a smiling Dayton. Their features softened at the recognition of the similarities between Dayton and Alec.
“Off-worlder, a word of warning,” said one of the men. Dayton estimated the speaker as around six-four and three hundred pounds, with most of it in his belly. “We aren’t all soft and welcoming like that commune, New Hope colony, on the far side. You can’t just walk up and start asking around about people like that. You’re gonna get yourself into trouble.”
“Oh? I’m sorry. The last any of the family had heard from him was about six months ago and we just want to know he’s alright. Have you seen him around lately?” said Dayton hoping they thought him an ignorant city boy.
The big fellow looked at his friends and then started laughing. The other two joined their laughter to their friend’s. “Sometimes you city boys just don’t get it. I’ll do you a favor,” said the man as Dayton gave him a hopeful look. “I ain’t in the mood to kick your scrawny butt out of here. Yes, the guy in the image comes around every now and again, but he hangs out down the street at the Complex. Now get before you meet someone less friendly than me.” Having dismissed Dayton, he looked over at his fri
ends and shrugged before continuing their quiet conversation.
Dayton bobbed his head in thanks and hurriedly left Buster’s Lounge. It rarely went so well, but fortunately for those men it had. His training had been in stealth and subterfuge, but his employers had equipped him with the skills to do whatever it took to get the job done. Before the transport had landed on this planet, he had resolved to do whatever it took to find Alec. Whatever it took.
The Complex, consisted of several three-story apartment buildings, bridged together with catwalks. A group of five youth stood out in front of the single open doorway leading to the center of the Complex. Dayton put his head down and walked right up to them. As he passed, one of them yelled out, “Howz it going Alec?” Dayton nearly stumbled in shock at his luck. He remembered to turn slightly in the boy’s direction and waved a hand. He continued walking past the group without issue.
He found an older woman hanging her laundry on the railing to dry. She gave him a suspicious look when he asked about Alec and showed her the picture. He thought she wasn’t going to help when she turned back to her laundry. A second later she pointed him in the direction of a lone door at the end of the second story walkway.
Dayton didn’t bother knocking, but tired the handle. It was unlocked. He opened the door and stepped inside.
The apartment was dark, the only light coming from the open doorway behind him and from a large window on the far side of the living room in this one-bedroom apartment. Dayton moved to the center of the living room and took a closer look around.
He was happy to find it was a tidy, sparse space. The kitchenette was off to his left and a short hallway to his right, which he suspected led to the single bedroom in the back. The soft hum of a Gauss firearm charging caught his attention. Dayton slowly raised his hands.
“Alec, it’s me, Dayton. You don’t want to accidently shoot your brother. Do you?” A long minute passed before an answer came.
“I don’t have a brother,” said a flat voice that Dayton recognized as Alec’s. Dayton turned slowly in the direction of the voice. He carefully removed his baseball cap when the lights came on, temporarily blinding him. A blurry figure stood five feet away, the firearm still pointing in Dayton’s direction.
As his vision adjusted to the sudden brightness, he could see the figure was Alec. Nearly a year and a half ago, Dayton prepared to leave for another tour. It was the last time they had talked, but since then something had changed in the carefree brother he remembered. This Alec had hard features and hard eyes to match. He no longer seemed like Dayton’s younger brother, but like many veterans who had seen and done more than their years would suggest. Alec, lowered the firearm a fraction as he looked Dayton up and down.
“You look like me. Who are you?” said Alec in all seriousness, waving with the firearm in the direction of the couch. A stunned Dayton moved to the couch and sat.
Two hours later Alec sat in a chair across from Dayton, while Dayton sipped at the hot beverage his brother had made for him. Alec also drank slowly, never taking his eyes off Dayton.
“Can you at least tell me what you’ve been up to? Who you’ve been working for? Nobody at home. . .the home the rest of us all remember . . .have heard from you in months,” said Dayton.
“You don’t get it do you? I don’t know you. All I know is I’m Alec Carnegie and I have no memories of my childhood or my family. The only family I know are in the pictures on the wall there. But I was told my family was killed in an accident when I was a teen.”
Dayton glanced at the pictures hanging on the wall. One was an image of Dayton, Alec and their parents on a family vacation when Alec was ten. Another image of them all together at Alec’s high-school graduation. No pictures since high-school. So far, it seemed Alec only remembers what was told him by someone else. No other memories other than last several months. Frustration and anger boiled up inside Dayton.
“For goodness sake Alec, you’ve got to remember!” yelled Dayton, standing abruptly. At the sudden motion Alec snatched the Gauss weapon from his waistband and pointed it in Dayton’s direction. That is when Dayton’s augments kicked in.
For Dayton, the augments were surreal when they took over his body. The cybernetics implanted in his body controlled everything from adrenaline levels, to oxygen regulation, muscle reaction and if needed they filled his body with pain killers. He could activate them when he wanted, but when he lost his temper or a part of him recognized a possible threat, they auto-engaged.
Dayton in the blink of an eye knocked the weapon to the side, causing Alec to reflexively fire. The gun’s projectile punched a fist size hole in the wall several feet away.
Alec dropped the weapon and dove for Dayton’s midsection, knocking his brother back onto the couch. The two wrestled, neither getting the upper hand.
Dayton engaged his muscle enhancers. With the strength boost he lifted Alec off himself with ease and threw his brother across the room. Alec’s shirt twisted in Dayton’s grip, ripping the shirt in half.
Alec fell hard to the ground, the air getting knocked out of him. Angry he rushed to his feet ready to charge again. The look on Dayton’s face stopped him.
“What?” spat Alec.
Dayton, with shock in his eyes, pointed at Alec’s now bare chest. Alec looked down to see what he was pointing at. Alec had two sets of three scars on his chest. One above each nipple and two directly underneath each nipple.
“What?” asked Alec defensively. “I was in an accident. They are just scars.”
Dayton shook his head in disbelief. He sat heavily on the couch in numbed silence.
“What is it?” demanded Alec.
“Alec. . .” Dayton swallowed hard and paused trying to figure out how he would say what he needed to say. “Alec, I’m Special Forces. We see a lot of different technology for espionage, infiltration and weaponization. For goodness sake, I’m part machine myself.” Dayton’s eyes tearing.
“So?” said Alec looking at his scars, unable to make the connection.
“So! So Alec, those aren’t scars from an accident. Those are growth tube scars.” Puzzlement remained on Alec’s face.
Dayton took a deep breath and voiced his fear, ”Alec, you’re a clone.”
* * *
Aaron Pardey loved his life. He was a short man by most standards and at times he suffered from short-man’s syndrome, which had gotten him into trouble in his earlier years. He had discovered the power of words often got one further in corporate bureaucracy than actual nose to the grindstone work and results, regardless if one were tall or short. And he discovered he was good at words.
His vid screen beeped softly, notifying him of a waiting caller. Without looking at the screen he said, “Video answer. Yes?”
His administrative assistant, Celeste, appeared on the screen. He looked over at her and smiled inwardly. Another month and maybe he could ask her out for a late night business dinner. He was the hot item at Zentri Incorporated. She won’t know what hit her.
“Sir, Alec Carnegie is here to see you.” Aaron looked puzzled.
“Uh, okay. Send him in.” The vid display went black. The lock on the door to Aaron’s office disengaged, a moment before Alec opened the door, letting himself in. Alec smiled apologetically to Aaron who rose to greet the younger man.
“Alec. This is a surprise. Everything alright with your. . .assignment?” The two shook hands. Alec ignored the proffered seat and remained standing. He couldn’t exaggerate the height difference by having this taller man towering over him any more than he already did. Aaron also remained standing.
“Sorry to bother you boss. But I needed to talk about my assignment with you in person.” Aaron looked around the room as if nervous. “Aaron, uh, Mr. Pardey, can we take a walk? Someplace where we are less likely to be heard?”
“Alec, my office is specially insulated,” started Aaron, but when Alec started moving towards the door Aaron found himself following. Leaving his coat, he followed Alec out where Celeste
smiled at them both. “Celeste, I’ll be a little while. Hold all messages.”
“Yes, Mr. Pardey,” said Celeste, as she returned to browsing the IGWeb for latest articles and videos on celebrities and fashion.
Aaron stepped faster to catch up to Alec. “What’s this about? Did your cover get blown?” he asked in a hushed whisper.
“Last night something happened. It may be worse than that,” said Alec cryptically. Alec lead the way out of the main building lobby and out into the brightening morning.
“Did you screw up? You’re supposed to be hiding out on Artum Colony, not here in Colonial City.” Aaron struggled to keep up with the Alec’s wide stride. Aaron, kept himself relatively fit, but the easy life had him breathing hard.
“I didn’t screw up, someone in your office did.” Alec led him to a parking garage, the bottom floor already full at this early morning hour.
“Who in my office. . .”said Aaron, when he stopped dead in his tracks as Dayton Carnegie stepped out from behind a support pillar. “Oh, crap!”
* * *
Dayton clicked the off button on the handheld and looked up at Aaron Pardey. “Thank you for making that call. Now your admin will think you went off to deal with other business not related to Alec. So one more time. What did you do to my brother?”
They were in an underground part of the parking garage next to the Zentri Inc. building. Aaron never knew these nearly deserted tunnels were down here. Sitting in a chair looking up at the two men who glared down at him, he felt sweat trickling down his neck regardless of the cool air pumping through the vent above. Light from one overhead fixture provided plenty of light for the small closeted area.
Science Fiction Short Stories Books 1 & 2: Twelve Engaging Sci-Fi Tales (One Mind, Different Voices Series) Page 11
