by E. R. Torre
“You’re a fighter.”
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Laverna said.
“If you don’t, you will be destroyed.”
Laverna shook her head and her mother faded away.
“Is that so bad?” she said.
“Your destiny lies beyond Bordertown,” the woman said. “Beyond Arcadia. Beyond even the Phaecian and Epsillon Empires. You’re the hope of our race.”
Laverna rubbed her eyes. Her emotions were spent.
“What do you want with me?” she whispered.
“You haven’t asked who I am,” the woman said.
“I don’t need to,” Laverna said. “I already know.”
“Who am, I Laverna?”
“You’re Catherine Vulcan. To the Phaecian Empire, a demon, a heretic. To the Epsillon Empire, you were their technological messiah. And just like all messiahs, things didn’t end well for you. To them, you’re the woman who sold out her world.”
Laverna drew a sharp breath and realized it was a human function and not something she ever again needed to do. She eyed the woman and said:
“You’re Saint Vulcan.”
56
The words triggered a flood of memories.
Before Laverna were thousands, perhaps several hundreds of thousands of images of Catherine Vulcan.
“You died a very long time ago,” Laverna said.
The images around Laverna came alive and moved as if they were old vid-feeds. She witnessed Catherine Vulcan –Saint Vulcan’s– entire career.
“You first appeared at White Sands. A techno-scientist with a gift for innovation. These innovations made you very wealthy. Wealthy enough to create your own businesses and successful enough to buy your own planet.”
The images faded and the two stood in outer space. Before them was a vibrant green world.
“Pomos,” Saint Vulcan said. “She was my home for fifteen years. Until…”
“Until you ordered it destroyed.”
“It had to be done,” Saint Vulcan said.
“Yes,” Laverna said and knew this to be true. “Yet murdered over six billion people.”
“By doing so, I saved the Epsillon and Phaecian Empires,” Saint Vulcan said. “Had I the time, I might have found a cure to the virus they smuggled into Pomos.”
“They?”
“We’ll get to them in a moment,” Saint Vulcan said. “Those infected by the virus were homicidal yet functional. Those that flew ships could still do so. I feared if even one of them got past the quarantine and reached another planet, the entire Empire, even both Empires, faced annihilation.”
Saint Vulcan paused.
“I destroyed Pomos and murdered my own people because I had to end the disease. Since then, every moment of every day I see all of Pomos’ people before me. I know them. Their names, ages. Their individual stories. They haunt my every waking moment.”
“You can’t shut those memories off?”
“I could,” Saint Vulcan said. “I won’t. I never want to forget what I was forced to do. Never.”
“You want revenge?”
“No,” Saint Vulcan said. “Justice.”
“Who are they? Who are the ones who released that disease on your world?”
“The answer is simple, if you think about it.”
Laverna did just that.
“If the disease was as dangerous as you say and could have imperiled all of humanity—”
She stopped talking.
“By the Gods,” Laverna muttered.
“The one who created and convinced those to release this disease did not care if it spread,” Saint Vulcan said. “It did not care because it didn’t affect them.”
“You mean…”
“The creatures who did that were like us,” Saint Vulcan said. “By destroying Pomos and making it seem I too had died, I removed myself from their equation. They didn’t need to pursue me or eradicate humanity all at once. They could bide their time and build their forces. They did this while I was away.”
Saint Vulcan reached out.
“Please, take my hand,” she said.
Laverna hesitated but only for a second. She grasped Saint Vulcan’s hand.
And with that, all was revealed.
57
Laverna and Saint Vulcan stood beside a very small spacecraft in the desolation of outer space.
There was no sound around them and though the spacecraft moved at hundreds of thousands of miles per hour, it was as if the craft were still.
They floated closer and closer to it until they dissolved through the ship’s walls and were inside. The ship’s cockpit was small and housed three humanoid forms. It had no windows and a simple console. The ship was meant to make it to its destination as quickly and efficiently as possible. No thought was made to the comfort of its crew but they did not need it. The crew looked like the ARWs which chased Laverna through Bordertown.
Unlike those creatures, they were blank slates. They were clean…
Innocent.
Laverna concentrated hard and reached out to touch one of them. Though they were nothing more than an illusion, she felt their presence and their original programming. Programming created by—
She sought an answer but found none. Not yet.
The creatures’ shape was humanoid, an approximation to that of the inhabitants of their destination world. This information was gathered through spy satellites which orbited the planet.
“Why were they sent instead of their masters?” Laverna asked.
“They needed to complete their journey in a short period of time and to do so they had to survive a very harsh acceleration and equally harsh deceleration,” Saint Vulcan replied. “Organics would be crushed in such a journey. Only machines could survive such a trip. Had this ship failed to arrive at its destination, others would follow.”
The ship’s interior vibrated as it slowed.
The gravitational forces proved incredibly harsh. The creatures’ bodies were pushed against their chairs and for several very tense seconds Laverna thought despite all they would be crushed.
Warning lights came on and the ship vibrated even more. It entered the destination planet’s atmosphere and another crushing turn was performed. Afterwards, the vibrations ceased. The ship slowed. It landed.
For a few seconds sensors checked the ship and her passengers’ status. After all was found to be functional, the creatures were released from their constraints.
“What are they called?” Laverna asked Saint Vulcan.
“Sentinels.”
“How do they operate?”
“See for yourself.”
“I don’t understa—”
Laverna stopped talking. She realized she could see through the creatures’ outer body shell. Swarming underneath were billions upon billions of microscopic machines. They worked together, one supporting the other until they created these larger units.
“The microscopic machines are called nano-probes,” Saint Vulcan said. “They are the individual parts which make up the whole.”
Once the ship landed, the Sentinels rose from their metal chairs with mechanical grace. They stepped to the ship’s exit and, when it opened, found themselves before a lush green forest.
“Who are their masters?” Laverna asked.
Even as the words left her mouth, she saw it.
A massive spacecraft almost as large as an entire world. She saw the Sentinels’ masters, a cruel alien race known to some as the Locust Plague.
“The Sentinels’ job was to scout worlds their Masters meant to feed off,” Saint Vulcan said. “It sometimes took thousands of years for the Master’s fleet to arrive at their destination. In the interval, the Sentinels were to ensure the planet they scouted remained primitive and her inhabitants never developed technology which could threaten their Masters.”
“What exactly happens once the Masters arrive at their targeted world?”
“They surround it with metal and tear into it. Inhabitants are
mercilessly slayed and all organic material is stored away and used as food. Inorganic material or stolen technologies are used to expand and strengthen the Master’s mothership.”
“What is left behind?”
“A withered husk of a planet. Uninhabitable. Completely used up.”
The visions of the Locust Plague disappeared and Laverna and Saint Vulcan were outside the Sentinel’s ship.
The machine creatures exited the vessel and moved out.
Laverna and Saint Vulcan followed the Sentinels as they walked through the forest. Eventually the creatures spotted the planet’s human inhabitants.
“Who are these people?” Laverna asked.
“You know,” Saint Vulcan replied. “They’re the ancestors to every single human being currently living in the Epsillon and Phaecian Empires.”
The Sentinels altered their shape to resemble the humanoids even more. Apart from their metal shells, they now looked like the humanoid creatures. Sensors within the Sentinels examined from afar the humanoid’s skin. Calculations were made to mimic the flesh.
“When were their Masters to arrive?”
“Thirty five thousand years from this date.”
Laverna and Saint Vulcan watched the Sentinels wander into and out of their spacecraft. The ship’s landing thrusters burned the vegetation under the craft but with the passage of time plants flourished and eventually threatened to cover the vessel.
During that time the Sentinels experimented with organic disguises. They created hair and life-like organic eyes and flesh. They wore these disguises and, over time, refined them. Like the humanoids they observed, they hunted animals and used their pelts to create clothing similar to those worn by the humanoids.
Finally, the Sentinels adopted sexes. Two of them took on male forms while the third shaped itself into a female.
Despite years of mimicry, they knew their disguises were far from perfect. They maintained their distance from the humanoids and observed the actions of countless tribes. The planet’s humanoids proved unique and hard to categorize. Some were loving while others were short tempered and quick to fight. Some tribes and their members lasted only a short time before being vanquished. Survivors of these tribes, if any, were absorbed into other tribes.
The Sentinels witnessed births and growth and death. More years passed as they inevitably did.
Hundreds of years.
In that time, the Sentinels refined their look and their organic disguises became incredibly natural. The flesh applied to their frames and the animal pelts worn made them look human enough to walk among the planet’s primitive peoples.
One day they discovered a group of humanoids wandering deep in the jungle. They were all that was left of a tribe forced from their home and desperately searching for a new one.
The Sentinels followed this group from a distance and, for the time being, did not get too close.
That would come later.
More years passed.
The Sentinels became a part of the tribe. Under cover of the night, one or more of the Sentinels returned to their ship to download what they learned and sent that information back to their Masters.
The planet’s flora, corrosion, and humidity, however, took a toll on the delicate machinery within their craft. One day, the Sentinels found they could no longer contact their Masters or download and wipe their memories.
Their mission should have been over but the Sentinels lived on.
They kept observing the world around them. They kept trying to understand.
They learned.
Laverna and Saint Vulcan stood in a clearing.
Beyond it was a grassy field and a small stream. Beyond that was a dark and near impenetrable jungle.
Within the clearing was a small wood hut. The hut barely stood but provided enough cover to keep most of the rains from falling inside. Three women and their children wandered around the campfire and, sitting before its entrance, was an older man. He was the original tribe’s son, now nearing his twilight years. He, like the others in the tribe, dressed in heavy, matted animal pelts and was covered in muddy filth.
The elder man sat before the campfire and ignored the women and their children. His focus was on his spear.
Beside the single wooden shack was a small garden.
Past the shack and near the edge of the jungle and apart from the tribe was a second smaller fire. Three shapes were huddled before it.
They looked like the others within this gathering but Laverna knew they were the three Sentinels.
They joined the tribe and remained with them long after their spacecraft was rendered unusable. They watched the humanoid struggles and witnessed their life-cycles. They grew closer and closer to them.
Saint Vulcan and Laverna approached the Sentinels. Saint Vulcan spoke.
“The awakening happens now.”
58
There came a sound from behind them and Laverna faced its source. So too did the others in the tribe.
A group of humanoids moved through the thick brush and approached the camp. When they arrived, they let out a joyous yell. They were a trio of hunters and each carried the bloody bodies of infant animals. Laverna recognized them as a form of bear cub. Their bodies were stabbed by the hunters’ spears.
The tribe was jubilant for other than the three Sentinels, everyone looked thin and malnourished.
Saint Vulcan’s blue eyes blazed with light.
“They were hungry and got desperate,” she said. “It was their biggest mistake.”
The Sentinels watched silently as the tribe’s members celebrated their bounty. The Sentinels’ sensitive ears filtered the jubilant noise and picked up sounds the others did not. They knew what lay in the dark woods beyond the grassy field and approached the camp so very quickly.
Laverna too heard the sounds.
“What is it?” she asked.
Saint Vulcan didn’t say.
Laverna sensed the horror to come. Several large forms crashed through the woods and moved directly toward the tribe.
“They’re in danger,” Laverna told Saint Vulcan.
Saint Vulcan didn’t react.
“They’re in danger!” she repeated even more urgently.
Laverna ran to the center of the tribe.
“You’re in danger!” she yelled.
The tribe, of course, did not react and Laverna stopped. Saint Vulcan walked to her side and said:
“This happened a very long time ago. There’s nothing you can do. Nothing but watch.”
Laverna looked at each member of the tribe. Every man, woman, and child. She knew most would not survive the next few minutes.
A young, very skinny child cried at the bounty before her. Her skin had a blue hue. The virus she contracted was already in her lungs. A man reached for his mate and they hugged. Another woman praised the bounty while another child smiled and danced before her mother.
All were oblivious to the crashing sounds coming from the forest.
“How many die?” Laverna asked.
“More than should have,” Saint Vulcan said. “We could have saved them.”
“We?”
Laverna looked to the Sentinels still sitting around the fire.
“The tribe’s chief should have known better but even he was hungry,” Saint Vulcan said.
The tribesmen and women continued their celebration. But soon enough, it was impossible not to hear the crashing coming from the forest.
At once, their revelry was over and the entire tribe fell completely silent. As one, they listened.
The women and infants huddled behind the tribe’s hunters. The hunters readied their spears.
A bloody roar came from the forest and echoed throughout the small campground.
The first flickers of fear appeared on the hunters’ faces. They eyed the trio at the far end of the clearing and grunted. The Sentinels had neither moved nor taken up arms.
The tribe leader urged them to do so. To help.
> Another crash.
The humanoids backed up until they were huddled next to their hut.
They held their breaths and gripped their spears.
The attack was fast and incredibly violent.
A trio of adult bears, each at least eight feet in length, exploded from the brush.
They followed the scent of their cubs’ blood and mercilessly attacked. The tribe’s hunters dropped their bounty and rushed forward. They tried to counterattack but the bears were too much for them.
The enraged animals’ razor sharp claws and teeth ripped into the hunters’ flesh. Blood spilled and limbs were torn. Only one of the hunters landed a blow. He stabbed one of the bears in its shoulder with his spear. The wound drew blood but didn’t slow the bear’s advance. It swatted the hunter aside and ripped the man’s throat, spraying blood and viscera on the muddy ground.
The tribe leader tried to help but before he could bring his spear up, he was violently slammed to the ground. The bear that attacked him landed its mighty paws on the man’s chest and the sickening sound of bones breaking were heard above his screams. The bear’s jaws were upon the leader’s neck and locked down. Blood rushed from a grisly wound and his eyes lost their focus. The bear, not content to simply kill its victim, jumped on the man’s chest again and again, further collapsing the dead man’s ribcage. Finally, its claws tore the humanoid’s chest wide open.
In seconds every one of the hunters were dead.
Two of the tribe’s women grabbed their children and ran into the forest. Another was caught before she could flee and swatted to the ground. For a horror filled second, her child looked back at her mother, then ran after the escaping women and disappeared into the forest.
The last of the women left behind, the youngest mother in the group, was paralyzed with fear and stood frozen by the primitive hut. She held her infant in her arms and the child, sensing the chaos around her, let out an anguished cry.
The mother bear approached the tribe’s last remaining woman and her child.
It stood on its hind legs and towered over the woman as tribe members’ blood and flesh fell from her mouth and down its neck. The mother bear let out another roar and raised her paw.
