by Michael Kan
It was in the shape of a silver ring, large enough to fit over one’s wrist. Along the edges lined a web of iridescent circuitry, the device shimmering like a prism under the light.
“This is the amplifier, right?” he asked. “I brought a whole cargo of them.”
Julian did not really know what he was holding. He only knew that he had traveled over 12 light-years on board the Au-O’sanah to fetch the coveted gear Faraday had so wanted.
The Ula batted its large octagonal eye at device.
EXCELLENT. PREPARATIONS SHALL COMMENCE.
A drone dropped down from the ceiling above, the glass machine built to resemble a flying insect. It was the size of a finger and helicoptered across the room, picking up the ring from Julian’s hand with its tiny pincers. The drone then hurriedly ferried it off to the Endervar particle, where it was joined by three others of its kind. Carefully, they fitted the so-called amplifier over the containment pod, the placement sealed with the sound of a clasp.
PROCEEDING WITH TEST A-38. AMPLIFIER READS AS FULLY FUNCTIONAL. SHALL WE COMMENCE?
Julian saw the block of metal in the room, clueless as to what was going on. Arendi walked to his side, and told him to stand back.
“Proceed,” she said. “Same as before.”
Faraday agreed. With a thought, he activated the Endervar particle. In another moment, the experiment commenced, the invisible force striking at the wall of armor once more.
Julian saw the impact, the warping energies drilling the large dent into the metal. He then realized what the experiment was trying to test.
“Is it working?” he asked.
Arendi looked at the Ula scientist above, and wondered the question herself.
PARTICLE REMAINS STABLE. DEGRADATON AT 0.00000001 percent.
“Raise the power level. Double it,” she said.
The Ula complied, the impact in the armor growing in both length and depth.
DEGRADATON UNCHANGED.
“I think it’s working,” she said cautiously. “More.”
By now, the impact had left a large and growing crater near the center of the metal. Rapidly, the layers of alloy were peeling away, the exotic energies easily digging deeper into the wall of superdense matter.
PARTICLE POWER AT TEN TIMES AND CLIMBING.
Faraday was moving the experiment beyond the previously imposed limits. But so far, everything was working just as planned. The newly applied amplifier was making a difference. Not only had the device unlocked the power of the Endervar particle, but its integrity had remained stable.
“It really is working,” Julian said.
The energized Phidinium was being pulled apart, the crater widening into a large hole burrowing deep within the metal. The Endervar particle pressed on, stretching the wall of armor. To Arendi, it was like the metal had come alive, the matter winding into a twisted sculpture of black. The effect was more than anything the previous experiments had achieved before, the target completely compromised.
“I think that’s enough,” she said. “Status?”
The effect dissipated, as the Endervar particle powered down.
DEGRADATION AT 0.0000001 PERCENT. STABILITY ACHIEVED AT OVER HUNDRED FOLD.
Although neither Julian nor Arendi could tell, Faraday was impressed. The results had gone beyond his own expectations, the device they had created a fusion of both Alliance technology and old Earth know-how.
“The amplifier,” she said, returning to her console. Arendi scanned the displayed data, verifying the results. Despite tapping into the Endervar particle, and using its exotic energy, the alien power source remained unfazed, the integrity barely disturbed.
“What you brought Julian,” Arendi explained. “It’s kept the Endervar particle stable,” she said.
“Then it works?”
“Yes. The particle… It can act as our gateway.”
Julian heard the words, as he approached the remains of the energized Phidinium armor. He knelt down and stared through what was now the overt opening inside the wall of metal. Julian couldn’t help but reach through the gap, his fingers dangling inside the empty cavity.
“You punched a hole right through it,” he said. “Just like last time.”
Julian had already been a witness to the particle’s power, having seen what it could do a month before, on board the SpaceCore station. It had saved his life, pulling him from the vacuum of space, and sending him through solid matter, unharmed. He touched his chest, recalling the sensation, or lack of it.
Now the particle had returned, more powerful than ever. It was ready to assist, the containment pod housing its structure, and blooming in darkness.
“Then the only thing left is the real test,” he added.
“Yes,” Arendi replied. “To Earth.”
***
The elevator shaft was like a lighthouse rising from the ocean, its base connected to the Ula research facility in the waters below. At the entrance, near the top of the tower, was a long docking deck attached to a simple canopy overhead. It was there Arendi stood, safely under the covers, as the rains clattered above.
Julian was nearby, loading the last of the remaining cargo into the automated transport parked at the platform. Among the items were the lab equipment, fabrication processors and several di-fusion reactors. But of it all, most important was the Endervar particle, the alien power source secured in its refitted containment pod.
Arendi looked on as the apparatus slid inside a compartment of the docked vehicle. All was done, the advanced equipment from the lab stored and ready for takeoff. Arendi, however, didn’t want to leave just yet. She leaned over the side of railing, gazing at the all-encompassing ocean, and watching the water fall from the sky.
A storm it was, the clap of thunder hounding in the air. The darkness from the gray clouds was approaching, blocking the sun from view. But as foreboding as it seemed, to Arendi it was still new.
She remembered Julian reaching his arm out to touch the fractured inside of the Phidinium armor. So Arendi did the same, placing her hand out as the rain dripped on her skin. She felt the cool wetness run through her fingers. Hydrogen and oxygen, and an atmosphere had come to create this: the lifeblood of the planet and so many others.
Arendi pulled her hand back, and saw the far-off island in the distance. It was Shin-Feng, a piece of rock that had become so much more. Tens of thousands had come to settle there, trying desperately to make a home. In fact, this whole world was festering with life, both human and foreign, but none of it any less alien. Could it be saved, she wondered. Or was it just hopeless?
The android had no answers. Only the will to find them. But Arendi would not be alone. She looked at Julian, his face dampened by the rain. Taking his still dry hand, he brushed back his wet hair, and came to Arendi, smiling.
“I haven’t seen the rain in a long time,” he said.
Julian felt the chill in his body, but he wasn’t in the least bothered. Looking at the view, he leaned on the platform’s railing, and watched the showers pour down to the waves below.
“I know some people don’t like it, but I kind of like the rain,” he said. “It’s gloomy, but it reminds me of it.”
“You mean Haven?” she asked. “Your homeworld?”
“Yeah. I guess it’s my home. Or was.”
She noted the nuance, and leaned on the railing with Julian.
“What is... What was it like?” she asked.
Julian thought about it, and he found that he actually couldn’t remember. What shreds that remained were vague, his childhood a complete blank. But he had been on the planet three years ago, following his first rejuvenation. So he spoke of what he saw then, the memories still clear.
“Trees,” he said. “Lots of trees. So much green. That and the rain. Almost every other day it would rain, or at least mist.”
She imagined it, a planet teeming with forests. “Did you live in a city?” Arendi asked.
“Something like that. It was a town
called Remington, not far from the capital. But it wasn’t quite like anything on Carigon. Haven was actually pretty industrial, factories just all over the place. All devoted to building starships, drones, or some other critical component.”
“I guess that doesn’t sound so appealing,” he chuckled. “But outside of the town, there were just trees everywhere. Lots of nature. It was... it was beautiful.”
“Then I imagine you must miss it,” she replied.
Julian shrugged, his newly found fondness drifting into the air.
“No… I don’t know. I only lived there until I was 12. Then I was shipped off, and began training with the SpaceCore. After that, I lived in a starship, or a remote base somewhere.”
It was then the natural conclusion came: I have no home, he thought. But rather than say it, Julian simply closed his lips.
“Remington,” Arendi said. “Perhaps you’ll see it once again.”
Julian laughed, rubbing his two hands together to warm them.
“If so, then I’ll take you there myself.”
He was gracious, his care during all this time always there.
“I would like that,” she quietly replied.
“What about you?” he then asked. “What was home like for you?”
Arendi paused, thinking back to Julian’s own descriptions. It was so different from her own experiences — to live in almost near seclusion.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Before I left Earth, I had lived in a vessel.”
To her, it was nondescript bulkhead wall that reminded her of home. That and the near blinding light that never faded outside, the view unchanging. It was not a sensation of warmth, but a feeling of dread, the confines like a trap.
“But wasn’t there more?” Julian asked, curious.
She shook her head, biting her lip.
“I... It’s so hard...” Arendi said, her voice declining into a whisper.
She pushed off the railing, and clenched her fists, frustrated.
“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No. It’s not that...”
Arendi closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. She realized it would be too hard to explain. She was embarrassed, and so she relented, letting the doubt sink in.
“Julian. I am just a machine. I don’t feel things the way you do. I...”
She looked down at herself now. This stupid dress. Her stupid haircut. And the ridiculous robot barber. The notion that she was a woman. A beautiful one too. That she could even be with someone. All utter nonsense. She was a machine. So why even ask Julian? Why bombard her with these pointless questions?
Arendi covered her face with her hand, trying to mask the shame.
“It’s okay,” Julian said, noticing how disturbed Arendi had become. She looked scared, her eyes glancing nervously at the ground.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We’ll see Earth soon.”
It was the goal. To return home. And yet the more Arendi thought of it, the more she felt conflicted. She did not have the fond recollection that Julian seemingly had of Haven. No, to her, Earth was a place bereft of such things, her memories of her time there full of struggle and pain.
She felt the shock, and could barely breathe.
“Hey,” Julian said, still concerned. “Everything will be all right.”
He gripped her shoulder, the slightly damp, but warm hand squeezing the side of her arm.
“The mission will go fine.”
Julian was obviously ignorant to Arendi’s plight, although she knew he was right. There was no reason to fear anymore. She only needed to be strong. To see this through.
Arendi placed her hand over Julian’s and smiled.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been so rude.”
She regained her composure, and looked directly into Julian’s eyes, wanting to thank him.
“In a way, you and I are both from Earth,” she said. “It only makes sense that you visit your other home. Your ancestral home.”
“That’s very true,” he replied. “I’m looking forward to it.”
She knew he was just being polite. But Arendi didn’t want to disappoint.
“Unfortunately, I don’t expect you to enjoy it.”
Chapter 50
Six days later and Richard received the message, the contents encrypted, but conspicuously Ouryan in origin. So this is how it ends, he thought. So be it.
It didn’t really matter anymore. The Sovereign was gone, along with her two other companions. Safe and away from the approaching danger. Richard could always take solace in that.
No, she had said. Don’t be silly.
He remembered her. The last glance of Sovereign. She uttered the words to him, in the moments before her ship departed. The former leader of the Terran Hegemony wanting him at her side. Despite all his charm and games, she could always see through it.
Come with us, she asked. We need you.
Richard flirted with the idea. Maybe he could go with them. To Earth, of all places. To be with her. The one and true Sovereign. If only he was a man again, and not in this dastardly virtual form.
“No,” he had politely said. “I still have a mission of my own.”
It didn’t seem right. Not with the Ouryans still a danger. He knew how ruthless they could be. And so nothing could be left to chance.
“Unfortunately my dear, in times of war, the mission even trumps love.”
The Sovereign left with a laugh, amused at his brazen charm. It made him happy to see it: their last meeting ending on a lighthearted note. Just the way he wanted. Even if it clashed with reality.
Richard never told Sovereign this. But he had left the Ouryan Collective, the moment she had asked for his protection. In essence, he had defected and committed treason, proclaiming to the entire Union that he, the great Entarian, was sheltering Sovereign and the android at some unknown location. It was the only tactic he could think of that might divert their pursuers’ attention.
Richard’s consciousness was, after all, spread across hundreds of worlds and starbases, his networks tapped into both the Alliance and the non-aligned governments. To make his plan work, dummy versions of himself had been essentially set up across the entire galaxy, each of them ready to self-destruct or send its captors on a wild-goose chase. As an extra precaution, Richard had even begun staging his own cyberattacks into the Ouryan Unity, hoping to at least annoy the Sovereign’s would-be hunters and disrupt their vast surveillance initiatives.
It was quite elaborate, the plans laid out over a decade ago, on the off chance he ever needed to hide something. But ultimately, it was a roll of the dice. The Ouryans could not be easily fooled, what with their legions of ships and infrastructure ready to do their bidding at any notice. In Richard’s case, he had come away happy with the results, able to stall just long enough so that Sovereign could leave at her leisure. He smiled with his holographic lips, as he waited on the beach. Next to him was the old statue of his long-dead friend, the sun beaming over its sandstone skin.
“The last stand,” he said to himself, holding his hands behind his back. “I had a good run. Now it’s my time to be a Kinnison.”
He stood there, knowing the enemy was close. Rather than hide, he had sent the incoming ship his location, all too prepared for the confrontation at hand.
In another few minutes, the black crescent appeared directly above him, the engines blaring in the air. It was a warship, the vessel’s surrounding cloaking field lifting to reveal a spinny black hide.
“Stealth class,” Richard said, taking a scan of the vessel. “Fancy.”
The entire beach side turned dark, the warship flying high and blotting out the sun. For the past hour, it had been sending off its encrypted messages to Richard, hoping to engage in what would no doubt be a long discussion about unity and whatever. Richard, however, had ignored them, and any other attempts to interact through his Ouryan form. He stood as a virtual human, and preferred to speak as
one.
With no other option, the Ouryan ship released the drone, the orb-like object dropping down from over a hundred meters to hit the ground in a dull bounce.
A cloud of sand flew in the air as Richard saw the Ouryan drone activate.
ENOUGH OF THESE GAMES. WHERE ARE THERE?
The machine spoke its monotone shrill, its spherical body unraveling to form a humanoid attack stance. It was bare bones, made of thin tendons of metal, and clearly not designed to please the eye. Richard saw the pair of energy blasters on its two arms, along with the central beam canon jutting out from its head. It was an advanced Ouryan tactical bot, with no identifier on its steel frame. But Richard had already analyzed the ID behind the encrypted messages and the ship above. They did not belong to the collective per se, but to an agent designed to serve its ardent masters.
“Ah, Magnus. Here to finally greet me. Personally. Sort of anyways.”
Whether or not it was intentional, the machine acceded to his request. Covering its metallic innards was now the holographic flesh of a blonde-haired man, its body fitted in a tanned and almost classy formal suit.
“Have you no loyalty?” the Ouryan agent asked, in a more human, but annoyed voice. “After all we’ve given you. Now you pay us back with this insolence!”
The Ouryan was furious, grinding its virtual teeth. Richard of course knew of Magnus, and the things the agent had done, one alleged atrocity after another. The blonde-haired man was an enforcer to fear, having killed so many, but occasionally known to show fits of dissent.
Richard merely shrugged.
“You’re too late. They’re gone. Out of your reach,” he said.
“Tell me what you know, and perhaps the Union will show mercy.”
Richard shook his head. He deflected away the agent’s statement, and instead struck back with his own question.
“By the way, how did you find me?”
