by C. C. Ekeke
In those brief respites between torture sessions, Habraum had only known the stifling darkness of his cell. Sleep came in spurts whenever the pain had subsided. And then, all too quickly, it began again.
One technique, he couldn’t remember or see how they’d executed it, felt like a thousand white-hot knives had been stabbed into his spine. That had sent a scalding agony shooting through his veins, scorching his insides like flames. Habraum had to endure that one for two days straight.
And not once had the Cybernarr ever asked him any questions. They only administered enough vital fluids to keep him alive and then kept up round after sadistic round of torment. After some time, he had learned to zone out, go to a place filled with memories of Cercidale with its endless rock formations, his strict but loving parents, his rowdy brothers and whipsmart sister, his AeroFleet family. Jennica…
…The memory of his lover floated up into Habraum’s thoughts as the torture became more severe. Jennica Hoang was a petite little thing, which belied her firecracker personality. Every detail about her enveloped him with an urgency he never remembered before: the long raven-black hair that shimmered under sunlight, a pale creamy skin that smelled of warmth and luna blossoms, brown almond-shaped eyes that sparkled like stars whenever she spoke of the children she educated at her teaching job. Her quick smile that always disarmed him, and then there was her melodious laughter…
But after a while, the Cybernarr adapted the torture to bleed through that safe haven.
And then Habraum, a proud Cercidalean who never begged, wanted to beg for death just to stop the pain. Habraum sagged against his reflection, gasping for breath as if he had been running for days without rest. He hastily shoved away any thought of his treatment. Thinking of it again would be the end of his sanity.
The Cercidalean righted himself and tore his eyes away from the reflection, then paced back and forth in the hallways of the Cybernarr vessel. The walls around him were draped with smooth and continuous cybernetics that went on for kilometrids, gold and crimson in color. The floors were flat, not at all sinewy like the walls. The whole ship was alive, one mechanical, beautiful marvel.
While Habraum bottled away his past suffering, the memories of how his torture had ended flowed freely through his mind. On the day he had wanted it all to end, what appeared to be a female Cybernarr entered his prisoner cell. The sudden light that heralded her arrival after so long in darkness caused Habraum to squint in pain at first. This was his first time seeing a live Cybernarr up close.
This one stood before him, exceedingly tall and slender in figure. Its skin bore a golden metal sheen, like a humanoid mechanoid but far more advanced. Below its shoulders was a tapestry of dark, sinuous cybernetics that flowed into and out of its skin with perfect harmony. It had no hair on its face or head, the several short crimson nodules jutting out of its gleaming skull.
What drew all of his attention were the pupil-less cerulean eyes staring at him, so inorganic, so detached from emotion that they seemed to stab through his soul like icy blades. A part of him could not help but marvel at the terrible beauty of this Cybernarr, this perfect union of organic and cybernetic.
But after all Habraum had endured, the seething hate keeping him upright overrode any fatigue. The lives lost to this…thing and its race of butchers demanded that he stayed defiant to the end. He didn’t have the energy to use his powers, so hatred was Habraum’s remaining weapon to wield.
And that’s when it—or rather ‘she’—asked him a question in a mechanical feminine tone as cold and sharp as her knife-like gaze, “Why do humanoids give each other nicknames?”
For a long moment, Habraum had sat there staring at the cyborg in stupefied disbelief. He hadn’t been sure if this was a bad joke or a test. His silence lingered so long that she had repeated the question.
A baffled Habraum remembered speaking with a voice damn near gone from constant screaming. His answer was something about how nicknames can either be a name given for affection or mocking.
She absorbed the response, then presented him with a plate of real food and a water glass like something out of a dream, and left. Habraum shoveled down the meal with his bare hands like someone from the most primitive parts of the galaxy. His father would have chastised him for such barbaric eating.
Orvs later, she returned with two more questions, both trivial and meaningless to Habraum. He answered. She left him another actual meal, which he ate with the provided utensils this time. The Cybernarr also supplied him with the techno-organic mesh that he now wore. She departed once more.
This continued at least a dozen more times, each visit came with more questions inquiring of the nature of life in the Union. What was the purpose of taking a holiday which served no work function? Why did the five races that started the Union – Earth humans, the Voton, the Kudoban, the Rhomerans and the Galdorian – allow other races who joined equal say in the government? Questions of that nature.
None of them pertained to anything of relevance to the UComm defense protocols or secret codes. However, none of these questions were accompanied with any type of torture. So Habraum played along, fearing that this new situation wouldn’t stick if he refused the Cybernarr.
After she had provided yet another meal to reward his answers, this Cybernarr then stated, “It has been almost six of your customary weeks.” And then she left. That was it? Habraum remembered thinking in relief. But he still had no expectation of freedom…or seeing his loved ones again.
Soon these interrogations became debates about how Cybernarr and non-Cybernarr live as they do. Habraum then felt bold enough to ask his own questions. Where is Cybernarr Space? How many worlds are in the Technoarchy? Why had they enslaved the Thulicans? And the Cybernarr answered openly. This went on for weeks, always proceeding her bringing him a meal, a minor but vital courtesy.
Soon Habraum actually looked forward to these. It gave him something to do and to focus on. Plus, the food was good. And though her mannerisms never showed it, Habraum had gathered that this cyborg might just be curious…or even lonely. Why else would she come back so routinely?
She no doubt had been following orders in regards to his torture, just like Habraum had in the AeroFleet when he blew several Cybernarr ships to kingdom come. This softened his once blanket stance on all Cybernarr being soulless automaton butchers. Well—at least in reference to her.
This Cybernarr female had revealed her name once, a long series of digital noises Habraum would never have any hope of enunciating. So he had given her a nickname, that of a character with intense blue eyes from one of his favorite holonovels, Skydancer Swift.
“Marguliese. My nickname for you,” Habraum declared as the Cybernarr, emotionless as ever, eyed him with the barest hint of distaste. But she indulged him and answered to the name when he used it.
The need to know about the war or anything that took place outside this cell gnawed at Habraum’s gut like a physical thing. Had the Technoarchy invaded Union Space completely? Had the Kedri Imperium sent more resources to aid the Galactic Union’s war effort? But Habraum kept his concerns contained, barely, never once bringing it up. And neither did the Cybernarr. Until two days ago.
“The war is over.” Marguliese stated suddenly during one such debate. “The Technoarchy will leave the Ferronos Sector and return to our realm in the Dracius Cluster shortly.”
And Habraum nearly spat out his water. “Wait…you lost?!” Marguliese said nothing, but Habraum could have sworn a flicker of anger flashed across her gaze. Shuddering, he had quickly shifted the discussion on his situation. “What does that mean for me?”
“I was ordered to eliminate you,” she replied flatly as if it were on a daily to-do list. “And since your government declared you dead four months ago, it is the logical action.”
Habraum’s throat had gone dry. And suddenly, the fear he should have felt in this cyborg’s presence seized his bones. The hate that had been replaced by a sense of almost camaraderie twisted in
his gut sourly. He remembered feeling so stupid, to not think that his capture would not end this way.
“But…” the Cybernarr arched a non-existent eyebrow as she continued. “I see that as unwise. From how you speak of your family and related constituents, they clearly gain emotional sustenance from you and vice versa. So I am returning you to your homeworld.”
Home. Habraum had given up on even wishing for it. The thought of this launched him into orbit.
“I…I’m going home.” Speaking this aloud made it so unbearably real. Habraum crumpled to his knees and burst into tears. He had thought he’d known joy before—relief. But before this moment, before believing that he may never see his loved ones again, everything before had been empty. Habraum had looked up through tear-blurred vision. “Thank you, Marguliese!” he said, his words just a whisper. The Cybernarr stood like a metal statue in the face of his euphoria. But he couldn’t have cared less.
Remembering that joy still made Habraum smile, which went so unused during his internment that the facial movement felt unnatural. They had been traveling for two days now, back to Union Space from wherever they had been. During this time, Marguliese had allowed him to roam freely all over her vessel. And Habraum explored almost every section, gawking at it all like a kid at an amusement park-town.
The pilot in Habraum would have loved to watch the ship’s journey, especially because they were traveling in slipstream—a flight technology no race but the Cybernarr had mastered. But his mind was in a million different places: his family, his girlfriend, the sensation of being free again. What was he going to tell everyone about how he survived? The young Cerc glanced up at one of the smoother regions of the Cybernarr ship’s walls. Many of them also reflected him perfectly. But his gaze didn’t linger long now before moving on to another section of this cyberorganic wonder.
“Habraum.” Habraum nearly had a heart attack. Marguliese, speaking through the ship’s comms, sounded as if she stood at his side. That was so unnerving. “Yeah?” he replied after taking a breath.
“I apologize for alarming you, but we have arrived outside Cercidale’s orbit.”
Habraum’s anxiety fell off him like a cloak. Resembling a kid on Christmas morning, the Cercidalean bolted toward the ship’s bridge. Once he got to the entrance, he found it closed off by a smooth metal door not unlike the mirror-like walls all over the ship. But once he stepped closer, the door melted away like liquid metal, revealing a wide cavity leading right into the bridge.
Sitting before Habraum was a spherical chamber, soaked in deep crimson lighting, at least 20 metrids across and 7 metrids high. Just like outside, the walls were lined entirely with pulsating cybernetics, their beginnings and endings never clear. The only differences were the many circular viewscreens embedded in various regions of the wall. On the smallest viewscreen was an outline diagram of the ship and all of its readings, constantly refreshing with new data so quickly that Habraum got a headache looking at it too long. Other screens were also awash with rapidly changing data, but in a peculiar numerical code. A massive viewscreen just right of the main viewport held a holographic map covering all of GUPR space, divided by sector using different colors. The chart stretched nearly a quarter of the wall, but lacked the input consoles or navcomputer that a Union Command starship would have. But because this was a Cybernarr biomechanoid vessel, it only needed a Cybernarr hooked up to it for proper navigation.
In the room’s center, Habraum caught a circular dais seven metrids across and rising a half metrid off the ground. The golden metal that covered it pulsed and throbbed with energy. There were six of these built on top of each other like a pyramid, each circular base smaller than the one below it. Standing tall on the highest and smallest dais was Marguliese, her back to Habraum. The dark, sinewy cybernetics had different patterns on the Cybernarr’s toned back. Writhing cords from the vessel’s ceiling were directly connected with the nodules on the Cybernarr’s head, giving her control over every aspect of the ship.
But all that barely held Habraum’s attention for even a moment. Once he entered the bridge, the young pilot gaped at the large ovular viewport in front of the Cybernarr. On it was the inky black of space, dimly lit by countless twinkling stars. But what took up his attention—and a majority of the screen—was a rocky planet, reddish-brown in color, gigantic in size and majesty. They were facing its daytime side, which boasted a mountainous surface somewhat hidden under swirls of feathery white and pockmarked by scattered lakes of blue. Cercidale.
“By the Maker, that’s a sight for sore eyes!” Habraum exclaimed, his voice heavy with longing. He dashed up the dais to stand next to the Cybernarr. There was his homeworld in all its red, rocky glory.
“We are just outside the orbital defenses,” the Cybernarr said in her flat, mechanical cadence. She fixated on Habraum with glowing, cerulean eyes. That sharp, angular golden face was like a work of art, but came off so robotic and emotionally sparse. To Habraum she looked like a figure from Earth’s old Greek mythology with those cables sticking out of her head, minus the petrifying ugliness. “I will require the location on Cercidale you desire to be transported.”
“Oh—uh, right.” Habraum reluctantly looked away from Cercidale and faced the Cybernarr. It had taken him two months to meet her penetrating stare directly without getting goosebumps. “Nobleton Province, Medillius, Orodon Apartment Complex.” The bustling city of Medillius was his home during the rare times he had shore leave. Jennica had moved in with him less than a month before his capture.
Jennica. He was going to see her again. Habraum’s whole body shivered with so much happiness.
“The coordinates have been logged.” Marguliese’s eyes shimmered against the bridge’s crimson luminosity, snapping Habraum out of his trance. “I will transport you at your discretion.”
“Well, Marguliese, this is it,” Habraum tried to put his hands in his pant pockets, until he realized that the techno-organic mesh he wore had none. An uncomfortable silence followed. Feeling a bit awkward, Habraum directed his gaze at his homeworld. “It’s been a ride for you and me, hasn’t it?”
Oddly, the young Cercidalean held no grudge or bitterness toward the Cybernarr female. Just her, of course. In fact, there was a small stitch of regret in his heart for leaving Marguliese.
“This would appear to be the conclusion of our association,” said Marguliese, her voice as emotionless as her face. Habraum frowned as he then noticed a sinewy growth forming on the Cybernarr’s left shoulder, followed by two smaller juts that looked like welding tools.
The tools on the Cybernarr’s shoulder worked furiously at creating an item that the Cerc couldn’t identify. Habraum gaped at the result: a flattened grey disk, not much bigger than the cavity in a human ear. The juts in the Cybernarr’s arm reverted to their former state and popped the disk into her awaiting palm. “However, I desire to keep in contact. You can do so through this device.”
Is she serious? Habraum thought in shock. He struggled to keep his expression neutral as he cautiously plucked the disk from her hand. “Situate the device in your earlobe, focus on it, and you connect to me directly.” Something in her eyes flickered. “There is much that I have learned from you, Habraum Nwosu, about the emotions and temperament of other sentients, and I wish to sustain those conversations.”
“We will, Marguliese,” said Habraum, truly meaning it. “I can’t say that this has been the greatest romp for me, but it showed me what really mattered in my life. And for that, I thank y—”
“UComm vessels have detected me,” the Cybernarr stated abruptly. “Farewell, Habraum.”
“Goodbye Mar—” The air sizzled with dazzling white and his whole body stretched beyond normal limits for a quarter of a nanoclic. “—guliese? What the hazik?!” Habraum spun around in utter confusion. It was as if someone had flashed a blinding floodlight in his face and then shut off all the lights at once. When his eyes readjusted to the gloom, Marguliese, the bridge, and the view of Cercidale w
ere gone.
Replacing them was a smooth cylindrical tower overlooking a clump of thick trees, probably less than 5 metrids in front of him. By the room lights visible on each of its thirteen floors, this was obviously an apartment complex, not unlike the one he resided at in the Cercidalean city of Medillius. The rest of the wide and glassy boulevard behind him was lined with countless other complexes, some were squat and short, others were the same height as the building before him. Aside from the blaring headlights and the zipping hum of an occasional hovercar, the street looked deserted. Halolight posts cast a pale glow on the boulevard; they were 3 metrids apart on both sides of the street, lined up as far as the eye could see.
Cool night winds carried the aroma of quillgrass mints to Habraum’s nose, making him notice that he stood in a large patch of downy green quillgrass stalks reaching up to his waist. Stepping back so as to not tread on too many, Habraum winced as his shin banged against the automated grey walkway of the tower next to him. Predictably an equally exquisite quillgrass patch resided on the other side of the walkway.
“I know this place,” Habraum muttered. He tried recalling it while looking up at the night sky.
What he saw were five moons cascading a spectacular radiance on him. Something about their positioning instantly caught Habraum’s attention. The largest moon was almost purple in hue, its craters visible even from its distance in space. Above the purple moon were two smaller ones and below it two even smaller moons also. It looked like a straight line with a disproportioned center.
Habraum froze. “That moon formation!” he cried at the heavens. The Cercidalean moon chain, which happened once every 400 days of a Cercidalean year. That explained why this street was deserted, as most would be at the many canyons or mountainsides on Cercidale to celebrate the Moon Chain.
“I’m home! By the Maker, I’M HOME!” He jumped high above the quillgrass, not caring if he was seen. He was about to clap his hands in delight when his eye caught actual cloth on his wrist. In a stunned silence, Habraum held up his wrist and then looked at his body.
