The Sons of Sora

by Paul Tassi

  In between spitting out proximity warnings, the AI suddenly said something puzzling.

  “In the event your assigned gunner is absent or deceased, it is recommended you cede control of autocannon targeting and ordnance launch to the discretion of the ship.”

  “What?” Lucas exclaimed, veering right as a splinter-shaped missile nearly grazed his hull. “You can take over the weapons systems yourself?”

  “That is correct,” said the AI.

  Lucas suddenly realized this was the sort of AI that had been permanently banned after the Machine Wars on Sora, but either Stoller had ignored such laws or Alpha had gone off-book by himself.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before?” Lucas asked.

  “The system requires a short period of time for calibration in order to properly assess the present threat.”

  “I’ve been at this for ten minutes. How long do you need?” Lucas said, exasperated.

  “This is a prototype vessel. The system has never been used in real-world combat scenarios.” The AI sounded mildly annoyed, though Lucas could have been imagining the tone.

  “Alright, fantastic,” he said, spinning twice to dodge two separate plasma volleys coming at him from opposite sides. His mind felt like it was melting. “Engage! Activate! Do it!” he shouted.

  “Very well,” the AI said, this time sounding pleased.

  The first missile launched wasn’t deterred when the enemy fighter spun out of its way. It looped upward and plunged back toward the retreating ship, accelerating in the process. It plowed straight into the body of the aircraft and blew it apart in silence.

  Lucas barely had time to blink before he realized that on the other side of the ship, an enemy fighter had just had its cockpit breached by a precision plasma blast, catching it square in the glass despite both crafts’ blinding speeds.

  “Jesus,” he said breathlessly, marveling at the AI’s handiwork, and veered around toward the remaining fighters. The damaged one from earlier still hadn’t managed to catch up, and was likely free-floating fifty thousand or so miles behind them.

  Lucas fired his own burst of shots while the AI took control of another pair of missiles, launched from the underside of the ship. Lucas missed his target, but the other two fighters split left and right, and the missiles followed. Suddenly, each cylinder exploded into shards that flew out at odd angles. The first ship tried to dodge the shrapnel, but caught two metal spikes in the wing. Electricity crackled and the ship lurched and turned belly up like a dead fish. Lucas turned to find the other ship had at least a dozen of the shards stuck into it, including one through the cockpit itself. No electrical overload required. The last remaining fighter was fleeing.

  “Remaining enemy craft no longer poses a threat,” the AI reported. “Abandon and proceed to target dreadnought?”

  “No,” Lucas said. Any ship that could fly was a still a problem since he needed to board the dreadnought. “We need to take it out.”

  Much to Lucas’s surprise, the AI assumed control of the engine itself and raced toward the escaping fighter. A pair of bright gold lasers shot out from under the wings of the prototype vessel and tore into the last ship. The explosion was colorful and quiet.

  “Relinquishing control,” the AI said, sounding disturbingly forlorn. The ship was Lucas’s once more. His mind ceased racing, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he steered toward the crippled dreadnought. Debris from the destroyed fighters was scattered in space around them.

  “Um, good work there,” Lucas said as the ship went quiet. “Did Alpha give you a name?” He felt a bit foolish after he’d asked the question, and was surprised when the AI responded.

  “I am prototype N4T-11E. Codename ‘Natalie,’ as designated by my creator.”

  Lucas smiled for the first time in weeks.

  As his nerves slowly cooled down after the firefight, it seemed fairly obvious to Lucas that he was going to have to blow a hole through the docking bay doors of the dreadnought and board through a gaping wound in the hull. So he was unnerved as he circled around the side of the vessel and the doors opened automatically, seeming to welcome him inside.

  The bay was empty. There were no other fighters waiting to unload on him. No manned auto-turrets hurling plasma toward him. No soldiers floating in zero G aiming ordnance his way. Lucas sat staring at the opening, unsure of what to do next. It had to be a trap, didn’t it?

  “The ship is hailing us,” AI Natalie announced. “Patching the feed through to your viewscreen.”

  The pale face of Viceroy Draylin Maston greeted him. The man smiled, revealing flawless teeth behind his dark, groomed beard.

  “Welcome, Lucas. I know why you are here, and I find myself clearly outmatched. I surrender.”

  “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t blow you out of the sky right now,” Lucas growled.

  “You already know that,” the Viceroy said. “I believe you have two reasons, in fact. Come aboard and we’ll discuss things further. I mean you no ill-intent. Though even if I did, we both know I would not succeed in any attempt to contain or destroy you. I am no fool. Dock your vessel and meet me on the bridge.”

  “Where are they?” Lucas asked, but the feed was already black and the ship had faded back into view. After a minute’s pause, Lucas guided the fighter into the open bay.

  The dreadnought was an eerie maze of empty hallways and blank holoscreens. Despite its size, Lucas hadn’t run into another soul as he navigated himself toward the bridge, which he was beginning to suspect might not actually exist.

  At last, he found the proper lift and found himself racing up the last few levels of the ship. He was tense, as if the elevator could explode at any second, or the doors would open and he’d find himself riddled with plasma. He tried to ready his mind in case he needed his unseen power of influence, but part of him was frightened, realizing he still didn’t quite know how to control the ability. His muscles were coiled springs as the door opened.

  He found the crew.

  The bridge was enormous, as tended to be the case with vessels of this size, but everything here was covered in luxurious, lavish platinum and gold trim with plush seats and even what appeared to be a fully stocked bar on the starboard side. But it wasn’t the opulence that caught Lucas’s attention. On the deck stood at least a hundred men and women lined up in neat rows, standing stiffly at attention. Some were armored, clearly soldiers, others were not—navigators, engineers, pilots. None were armed. Their hands were clasped behind their backs, and none had so much as a pistol or knife on their hips. Lucas slowly lowered his own weapon, an automatic handgun clipped inside the cockpit of his fighter for emergencies.

  The crew was split in half, one group facing the other, forming a narrow pathway to the main captain’s chair and viewscreen. Most tried not to catch his eye, but a few couldn’t help themselves. Lucas could see a few unarmored officers outright shaking in barely bridled terror.

  Walking down the living corridor, Lucas saw a figure at the end standing in front of a jewel-encrusted captain’s command seat, arms open wide. The Viceroy wore a slim, high-collared suit with tails that reached his ankles. His chest sparkled with meaningless awards, and his dark eyes glittered in a similar manner. Lucas saw that he was the only one in the room armed, and his eyes widened as he realized the Viceroy’s hand was on the pommel of Asha’s black-bladed darksteel sword, slung loosely off his hip.

  “Lucas, welcome to the Endless Dawn. Isn’t she lovely?” the Viceroy said. “The High Chancellor bestowed it upon me for a decade of loyal service to his administration.”

  “What the hell is this?” Lucas asked, eyeing the crew as nervously as they eyed him, still clutching his pistol.

  “Word has spread about what you did at the Merenes base,” the Viceroy said, lowering his voice. “I have no intention of seeing myself or my men come to harm by attempting to stand in the way of you, our … unstoppable force.”

  “Should have told that to your pilots,�
�� Lucas said, nodding toward a visible debris field outside the viewscreen. A wing of a destroyed fighter was drifting lazily into view.

  “Yes, well, the Royal Air Battalion has a rather high opinion of themselves and wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Bullshit,” Lucas said. “You thought they’d kill me before I reached you.”

  Draylin Maston shrugged. “Believe what you will, but we are here now. And judging by the surprising lack of casualties at Merenes, I suppose you haven’t completely lost your mind.”

  “No,” Lucas said. “But you have, if you thought you’d be able to control me by threatening the lives of Asha and Alpha.”

  The Viceroy frowned.

  “Damn, I thought it a rather inspired idea. Though it appears the High Chancellor and I have misjudged the depth of your incredible power, even with your conversion incomplete.”

  “You’ve misjudged a lot of things,” Lucas said, immune to the Viceroy’s flattery. “Like that I won’t tear you and everyone in here to shreds if you don’t tell me what I need to know.”

  A shiver ran through every single crewmember present, Maston included. He found his voice.

  “I will trade you the information you seek for the lives of everyone you see here, myself included, of course. I will straighten all this out with the High Chancellor and we can forget this whole ordeal ever took place, as it’s just a great misunderstanding. We both want to end this war with Xala, wouldn’t you agree? We just had different ideas on how to go about it.”

  “Stoller will lead Sora to ruin at this rate, even with Xala wounded,” Lucas said. “What sort of man is he to threaten innocents this way? Scientists, women, little girls.”

  The Viceroy let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Your definition of ‘innocent’ is a strange one. Your Alpha is the greatest mind of this war, and his inventions have contributed to the deaths of millions on both sides. Your Asha could not even count the number of heads her black blade has taken,” he patted the sword on his hip. “And if you reference the young, lovely ‘Miss Auran,’ you’ll know she isn’t really a person at all. A ghostly abomination, more like. Your boys are in quite a predicament, attempting to defend her honor at Solarion Station. I was just heading there now to retrieve them.”

  “What?” Lucas said. “What’s happened to Noah and Erik?”

  “They are in the hands of some very bad people hoping to make a large sum of money. You are more than welcome to accompany me to liberate them. After you’ve seen to Asha and Alpha, of course.”

  “If the next words out of your mouth don’t tell me where they are, you and your entire crew will start tearing each other’s eyes out with smiles on your faces.” Lucas’s tone was molten.

  A low murmur rippled across the nervous crowd. Lucas didn’t even know if he could do such a thing at will, but if they’d heard what he’d done at Merenes …

  “They are here,” Draylin Maston said suddenly, a touch of panic in his silky voice. “Locked in the hold. I would not trust anyone else with them, even after I was tasked to bring additional prisoners. I was on my way to building quite a collection, I must say.”

  Lucas blinked.

  “They’re here? On this ship?” His heart soared.

  The Viceroy nodded. “I will have someone escort you to—”

  “I’ll find it,” Lucas said, his pulse racing. “Though if you try anything, you will all die painfully, mark my words.”

  “Implying we will not die if we comply. You are most generous, Lucas. I knew you were a man of honor.” A nervous smile crossed the Viceroy’s lips.

  Lucas ignored the man’s groveling and stormed out of the room, the crew breathing a collective sigh of relief behind him.

  Lucas tore through the corridors of the ship at speeds he couldn’t comprehend. He’d taken one look at a floating schematic of the ship on the bridge and had memorized its floorplan instantly. Reaching the hold in under a minute, he ripped the thick door off its hinges and threw it behind him down the hall.

  In a room full of cells, only one lightscreen was active. Lucas raced to it and jammed his fist through the controls so that it sputtered and died in front of him. He dropped to his knees when he saw what was inside, and his racing mind almost made him collapse on the spot.

  Asha, clad in black rags, smiled at him. Alpha’s gold-ringed eyes were wet with emotion.

  “We knew you’d come,” Asha said as he threw his arms around her. She met him with a kiss, and he felt Alpha’s claw on his shoulder.

  “It is incredible to find you here, Lucas,” Alpha said, his translator flickering faintly. “Though my thanks must wait. What of my family? Are they safe from the clutches of these madmen?”

  Lucas nodded.

  “It was Theta who told me where you were. She walked onto the Merenes base like she owned the place and helped me escape. Brave girl.”

  Alpha’s chest inflated with pride. Lucas continued.

  “I left her with Zeta on an orbital station, but they should be heading back to Sora.”

  “My thanks, Lucas,” Alpha said, attempting to mask the emotion in his voice. “Now, what of our host?”

  “I’ll kill him,” Asha said, blinding rage in her eyes.

  “I left Viceroy Maston alone for now; his crew surrendered after I took out his fighter escort with one of your prototype ships, Alpha. Natalie, I believe it’s calling itself?” Lucas hid a smile.

  Asha ignored the reference.

  “He’s still alive? Time to change that. Take me to the bridge.”

  Lucas rested his hands on her shoulders.

  “He said Noah and Erik are on this place called … Solarion? He implied they were captured, and that he was on his way to collect them. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  Asha shook her head and looked confused.

  “What the hell would the boys be doing on Solarion Station?”

  “If you don’t know, we may need the Viceroy to shed some light on what’s happening. Alpha, can you repair this ship and get us there? I’ll make sure the crew doesn’t give us any trouble. These cells down here look like they’re just begging to be filled.”

  “Of course,” Alpha said. “I will assist in any way I am able. We must head to the bridge to assess the damage to the vessel.”

  The three of them stumbled as a muffled explosion rocked the ship somewhere above them. Asha and Alpha were pitched against the back wall and Lucas struggled to keep his footing on the grated floor.

  “What the hell?” he said. “I swear, if Draylin Maston thinks he can try me right now …”

  Lucas brought up his communicator and shouted into it.

  “Maston! What’s going on? What are you trying to pull?”

  The feed was soft static.

  “Viceroy?”

  Silence. A garbled sound. An abbreviated scream. More silence.

  Fear crept up Lucas’s spine. He flinched as he heard Omicron’s unmistakable voice in his head.

  “Well, this will be interesting.”

  25

  Malorious Auran nearly died from the shock of seeing Noah, Kyra, and the others sharing a cell with him. He was inconsolable.

  “I should have never sent that message. I told you not to look for me. I told you I was protecting you. And now, I have brought ruin to all,” he said with tears in his eyes.

  “Grandfather,” Kyra said, putting her hand in his. She was clearly unsettled seeing him in such a state. “It’s alright. We and the others have a plan,” she nodded toward Tannon and the rest of the team, who were conversing with the Solarion guards out of earshot.

  “A plan?” Auran said, mouth open in shock. “I know little of the vile men who run this place, but I know enough to say that no matter what you think you are doing here, all of you are in incredible danger. Noah, Erik, how could allow poor Kyra and Sakai to put themselves in harm’s way like this? And for what? An old man?”

  “For the truth,” Erik said bluntly. “You owe Kyra that
much. Whatever secret you planned to take to your grave, you need to share it with her, now.”

  “Ah,” Auran said, looking crestfallen. “I am revealed at last, then. It was only a matter of time.”

  “We came a long way, Keeper,” Noah said. “And for what Kyra has had to endure throughout her life, and the last few months in particular, you owe her the truth.”

  Kyra looked into her grandfather’s eyes. “Please,” she said, voice breaking. “Please tell me who I am. And who Corinthia Vale is to me.”

  It was a long time before Auran spoke again. They could see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to deduce the best way to explain the impossible.

  “There are two types of clones,” he began at last. “Torn clones and birthed clones. Both are illegal, but one is far more dangerous than the other.

  “Torn clones are the ones you hear stories about. Their creation is, and always will be, an abomination of nature. A torn clone is grown in full adulthood, taken from the genetic material of another. Torn clones can be grown from live subjects, but were commonly created from the dead. It was an attempt to give a second life to a soul taken from the world. For loved ones to regain their lost, exactly as they were.

  “Torn clones are the same person as their originals. Exactly so. The DNA is an obvious mirror, each clone’s appearance and age the exactly the same as their original. But more importantly, even memories can be transferred from the subject to the clone. At first, it seemed like the cure for mortality. A person killed before their time would simply find themselves alive in a new body. It was a revolutionary discovery.”

  “Why haven’t we heard of it then?” Sakai interrupted. “There’s nothing in the scrolls about such a breakthrough.”