by Kurt Johnson
He lifted his hand from my chest. I couldn’t breathe any faster.
Please. I want to live.
“Goodbye, Raystar of Terra.”
I screamed with everything I had as he elevated the hand holding the syringe above his head and then hammered it down, driving the needle into my heart.
39
Buh-buh.
I gasped in recognition. My heartbeat.
I sucked in another breath of recognition. The hot, sticky air, the taste of metal, the smell of waste. But that last gasp, like the first, was filled with glorious oxygen. Was I dead?
No. I was pretty sure the place we go after we die didn’t use body restraints or smell like a humidified gratcher pen. I was alive, which was good. I was still in Godwill’s chair, which, not to belabor the point, was really bad. Breathe. Calm. Focus.
After a moment of drawing centering breaths, I wriggled my fingers and toes. The feeling of muscles clenching and unclenching was delicious. Braver now, I raised my head and popped open my eyes. As my stomach and chest muscles engaged, and as I lifted my head, unbelievable pain flooded through my sternum. A tidal wave of nausea made me snap my eyes shut.
Have you ever broken a bone? Bruised yourself really badly? Imagine that pain in your chest, right there in the middle, where your ribs come together. Add to that heart-rending ache the worst fever you can imagine, PLUS wanting to throw up AND being unable to turn your head. So, uh, if you did throw up, gravity would just make it run down your body. I hurt like that. Like I’ve never hurt before.
“I thought I was clear,” I heard someone say as my awareness sharpened. Godwill. He was standing off to the side of me. I had no idea how long I’d been there. “I need the Convergence inventory of Human DNA reclamation solvent. ALL OF IT, LITTLE FOOL!” He paused. “Plans have changed. We will convert this population first.” He paused again. “Remember, all of it. You will answer to worse people than I if you do not comply or are late. We have a small window before the 301st Battle Group arrives.” The “fool” on the other side of the transmitter must have said the right thing, because Godwill regained his composure and closed the conversation with a stern “See that you do.”
I knew he was approaching me, mostly because I could hear his panting. I tried to open my eyes, but my thoughts were too jumbled for my body to understand how to make my eyelids work.
“507 did not endure as long as you. But I will have you, Raystar,” he said, placing a hand on my head. “Synth,” he commanded, “elevate the chair.”
Vertigo spun my world as the chair back elevated my upper body. My chest ached with renewed pain as the chair moved into its original position. I forced my eyes open. Godwill stood in front of me, with his head turned. From this angle, he looked even more skeletal. Small, deep, red blots on his combat armor looked like wet paint. To the right, where he was looking, the array of news feeds showed various scenes from around the planet. One screen showed something about Freela and Kaleren, Mieant’s parents. I couldn’t quite make out the words.
Other displays showed a body. My body. It was me, in fact, on the vid-screen; I knew that because when I wiggled a finger, the image on the screen wiggled a finger. Red tendrils reached out from MY heart. Nova. It was identical to what had happened when Dad and I had tried to fix the controller. What was Godwill doing?
Oh…no.
“Yes,” he gloated, upon seeing my recognition. “Millions of your people, over eighteen hundred years, have been synthesized!” Godwill spat. “There are not so many of your kind left. Even fewer of you with the control gene. When we unlock your tech, Homo sapiens will not be needed, except as a chapter in our overcurious Recorders’ history.”
His hand gently stroked my hair as he continued wistfully, “It was only months ago when a Human boy was sitting right where you are. Artem, I believe, was his name. You would have liked him, I think. We found him in the Capitar system. The Humans in that system scratch out a living, well enough, I suppose. They try not to cause trouble, to get along, to be part of Galactic culture.”
“But rumors about a purple-haired child who sometimes emitted clouds of sparks brought him to our attention.” The sigh he expelled was that of remembering a lovely moment. “His parents, in their uniquely Human way, cared for him deeply. Imagine my surprise when they turned down my very generous offer of payment for the child. The extra hours of entertainment they provided left me grateful that they refused my offer.”
My heart was crashing against my ribs. The pain, a pressure in my core, pushed my chest out, and I panted. His calm narrative sharply contrasted with the war raging inside me. Making sense of what he’d said gave size and scale to the game I was wrapped up in.
I flexed my arms against the metal restraints. A game I was losing.
Godwill continued, “I would have enjoyed converting you both at the same time, after giving you time to become friends. I even told him about you. Nothing like a little of hope before the end. You did not give that to Nurse Pheelios, did you?” His hand continued stroking my hair. “You should have paused, let her see her end. Given her a few seconds to contemplate her inevitable nonexistence. Nothing compares to the pleasure of watching another sentient become aware that their end is only seconds away.”
Nova. This was insanity.
“I injected him with the reclamation nano,” he continued, and then muttered to himself, “I do not know why we call it that. It is, in fact, a conversion solvent.” Godwill looked down at me.
“It converts your DNA, your nannites, into a ‘digestible’ format Lethians can integrate. As you can see from the displays”—he waved toward the translucent displays floating against the brown and red background—“you are being converted. To soup, in fact.” He pointed toward the tub. “You will go in there, where you will finish the conversion process.”
“Unnngh,” I managed. I needed to survive. This madness needed to be stopped.
“And let me tell you, Raystar, I have used the prototype of converted nano on myself! What an amazing power your kind have developed. I have access to your kind’s ancient nanotechnology. Watch.”
He raised his hand. As he did so, his body glowed. A nimbus appeared around him, purplish and much finer than mine. One hand was held flat toward the floor as the other pointed to the wall. A stream of sparks shot from his hand to the floor and started peeling off the corroded metal. He was consuming the floor, somehow powering himself with nonorganic material. A skintight smile pulled his grey skin, and he bared his teeth.
He turned over the hand, pointing to the wall, and made a clawing motion. Blinding purple-white ropes of plasma streaked from his hands and gouged jagged trenches in the far wall. The air filled with the acrid smell of ozone and metal.
“SEE?” he turned wildly to me, his black eyes wide and mouth agape in a craxy, emaciated grin. “I HAVE YOUR POWER!” He leaned in close and whispered, so the monitors, the rust, and all the other nonalive things in the room couldn’t overhear his insanity. “And my people will have it too!”
I fought through pain to think. Puzzle pieces fell into place. The damage in this room—the rust, corrosion, and stains—must have been from Godwill using his nano. On others. There must be something wrong, though, because when I consumed something, I consumed it entirely. I’d consumed IT-ME, turned ’natch to ash, even vaporized parts of the lev-sled. Er. I mean, the assault tank. Nurse Pheelios existed one moment, and then she did not. There were no leftovers. How much of the rust covering everything in this vault was because of some problem? An imperfection in his “reclaimed” nano?
The synth chimed, soft and melodious. “Jurisdictor Godwill. We are under attack. Experiment 507 has returned. Commander Sarla has engaged, and per your orders, no guards have left the….”
Godwill struggled to calm himself. Sparks jumped around his mouth, eyes, and hair.
“Thank you. Let Commander Sarla know I shall be there momentarily.”
“As you wish, Jurisdictor.”
&nb
sp; Godwill looked at me and sniffled. He lifted his sleeve, wiped a line of blood from his nose, and then gestured at the screen showing my body being “converted.”
“I won’t leave you alone for long, Raystar.”
Sanity reclaimed, he adjusted his long jacket over his combat armor and straightened his sparkling hair in a gesture that reminded me a bit too much of me. The craxy Godwill had been replaced with the one I’d feared first. “If your brain hasn’t turned into precious nano, we can talk about how you assassinated the Asrigards when I return. Humans won’t be liked much by Galactics now. Enjoy your celebrity status.”
He laughed, gurgling with a momentary lapse of insane pleasure, and swept away up the stairs.
I was alone with my breathing, the vids, the rust, and my internal war with the infecting nano. I could feel the battle inside me. I felt sick. My mouth was dry. I looked at the screen and blinked. The red had actually retreated, grown smaller.
I turned back to the vids. They were almost too soft to be heard. Huh.
“Synth, increase the volume.” I guessed there were no specific instructions about using the compound synth, and that there were levels of clearance that were required for anything important. A news report was just beginning, and I remembered the reporter.
“This is Nyla Jax, of the Galactic News Network, reporting from the Blue River Educational Facility.” Nyla was the young Lethian reporter who had been at the Greeting Ceremony. She looked nervous as the vid drones swarmed around her, each jockeying and shuffling for the best shot. One drone swooped near to her, and the draft stirred up leaves and mussed her hair. She brushed a strand of silver hair from her face, blinked, and continued. I noticed she had freckles. “Yesterday, only moments after Freela and Kaleren Asrigard, Co-Governors of Quadrant 4, announced the signing of the Human Inclusion Bill, they fell victim to what appears to be a gruesome assassination attempt.” She looked seriously into the camera and continued. “Citizens of Nem’, while officials haven’t confirmed reports, the Co-Governors are not believed to have survived the attack.”
Nova and great gravity wells. Mieant would never forgive me.
A picture of me flashed on the screen.
“What we know is that Raystar Ceridian, the adopted Human of Sathra and Nent Ceridian, appears to be deeply involved in the attack. Raystar, thirteen years of age, is the only Human on Nem’.” The vid of Mom wiping something off of my face and giving me an enormous mwah flashed for a moment as Nyla continued her narrative. “What could prompt this young Human female to try to kill the Quadrant Governors, especially after a pro-Human bill was signed into law?” Nyla emphasized the word “kill” and shook her head at the confounding question. “What we know is that the Human was not acting alone. We believe that the principal of the Blue River educational facility was a collaborator.” The scene panned away as the vid drones rose like a cloud of flies to capture the second figure standing next to Nyla—Jurisdictor Godwill, in full NPD uniform.
“To help us make sense of this tragedy, Nem’s newest Jurisdictor has agreed to join us for a public statement. Jurisdictor Godwill, what is the official view of the NPD?”
This interview was recorded. He’d come to the prison camp just after the interview! I winced, looked back at my body monitors. The red hadn’t increased. I turned back to Godwill’s interview.
He smiled warmly at Nyla and dipped his skull-head toward her, just as Storm-Wall thunder boomed and his slight bow became a reflexive duck. Nervously, they both looked up and then back at each other.
“Thank you, Nyla. This is a horrible event. It is clear that after 1,800 years, Humans—even Human children—cannot be trusted, despite how we have welcomed them into our Galactic civilization. The NPD is committed to tracking down and finding those responsible for perpetrating this tragedy. It is ironic that the very species the Co-Governors were trying to save with their Human Inclusion Bill then turned against them. While we investigate this”—he paused, as if searching for the words—“Human Conspiracy, I will be managing the day-to-day governance of Nem’.”
Godwill paused, looked at Nyla, and then turned back to the vids. “Humans must be watched. If you have this species in your vicinity, please report suspicious activity to your local authorities.” He turned his gaze down and then back toward the camera, because Lethians don’t have pupils. “I am ashamed that any people belonging to our Convergence would need to be monitored, but Humans have proven their hatred for us.
“We do, not at this point, know the whereabouts of Raystar of Terra, Mieant Asrigard, Cri Ceridian, or Nonch of Broodmother Krig. I am hopeful that some group will come forward and claim responsibility for their absence, or that some citizen will help us locate the perpetrators. These are missing children first, after all.”
Nyla nodded, her silvery bangs flowing with each bob of her head as she gave Godwill her focus.
“But more troubling is that we do not know the extent to which Nem’s government and police have been infiltrated. Principal Entarch was thought to have been a loyal public servant, but she attempted murder. Clearly, she was turned by this Human Conspiracy. Glean swords were used to stab the Co-Governors. Who else has been turned? In order to protect our planet and our citizens, I am declaring martial law as authorized by the War Powers Doctrine. I have further directed that the 98th Battle Group take position in orbit. Soldiers loyal to the Convergence will, under my direct command, relieve existing NPD forces of their responsibilities until we identify the responsible parties and stabilize Nem’.”
Godwill smiled again at Nyla. Who blinked as his words—and their significance—registered.
For a moment, only the experian drones’ antigrav engines whispered into their sound pickups. Nyla now looked at Godwill like he had turned into a giant, salivating legger. He pressed his lips together and stood with his arms behind his back.
Then her ambition overcame her fear, and she rattled off a series of questions. Her path to fame was established. THIS was going to be THE report that made her famous.
“Jurisdictor, you said, ‘attempted’ murder. Can you comment?”
“We will not comment on an ongoing investigation,” Godwill said.
“Jurisdictor, Nem’ is a small planet. Is martial law overkill?”
“Our Co-Governors were just attacked. We will pull this planet apart before we give up on justice.”
“You mentioned the 98th Battle Group. Will Nem’ be under military rule?”
“Nem’ will be under NPD rule, enforced by the 301st under my direct command.” Then he turned to face the camera directly. “Citizens of Nem’, much has happened in the past few days. Even more will come to pass in the near future. The recent tragedy suggests that people and races that were our friends cannot be trusted. I want you to ensure that you make the officers of the 98th aware of any suspicious behavior. As your new Governor, I promise to use all of my power to find those responsible for these horrible events. In the meantime, remember that you are under martial law. There will be no further news, except at such time as I lift this ban. Thank you.” Godwill gestured to someone off-camera.
Nyla pushed in front of him. “A Battle Group has roughly six million soldiers. Mixed with martial law, this looks like a military coup, Jurisdictor. When will the battle group arrive?” She glanced at something out of sight. Her eyes got big. “No way! This is not possible. You can’t….” Two soldiers took her carefully by each arm and escorted her off-camera.
“Secure her,” he said, facing the soldiers. As he followed their progress, he commanded, “Ms. Jax, kindly disable your vid drones.” The images flickered, then vanished. She’d turned off her recorders. “The 98th is already here” were his last words before the images vanished.
“Scan stations for content,” I said to the building synth. I didn’t want to be alone down here. Screens flicked from static to static.
For the first time I could remember, the networks were silent.
40
The door a
t the top of the stairs slid open, and heavy footfalls thudded down the stairway. Godwill paused when he saw me.
“Incredible,” he muttered, walking around me once and then stopping in front of the displays. He poked my head and then pressed down on my chest, where he’d injected me, as if expecting that area to be mushy.
He looked at the monitors. The red area had nearly vanished. Whatever my nano were doing, they were doing it better than whatever he had injected me with. Could I beat this? Hope burned in my chest, and the nova of emotions that flared when I looked at Godwill went beyond fury.
“I suspected that additional solvent doses would be required. But this is remarkable,” he muttered. He hesitated, then continued. “You are incredibly concentrated. Like source code. The boy, even with his DNA, took half a day. Those before him were harvested in minutes.”
“Once 507’s complete DNA is synthesized along with yours, we will have what we need”—he shuddered—“to be rid of your kind.”
I blinked at this. “I thought Artem was processed?” I said, my morbid curiosity getting the better of me. Godwill returned my question with a blank look that lasted a mere second.
“YOU MOCK ME?” he exploded, his eyes twitching and bulging as he pounded a fist on the table. Strapped in as I was, I did my best to twist away from him. “507 escaped!”
He grabbed my throat and put his face near mine, spittle flying with each word. “But you knew that, didn’t you? You and Artem have been in collusion since you met that day in the ’natch field! Your parents were sheltering him from me, weren’t they? TELL ME, you miserable pupae. I will enjoy what comes next!”
