Dark Transmissions

by Davila LeBlanc

  Lunient looked over his shoulder to the rest of the shower stalls. “You know, ma’am. A day ago I would have been afraid to be in the same room as you.”

  “I hope for your continued personal health that that hasn’t changed,” Jafahan replied as she stood up, arching and cracking her back. “Is there a reason for this particular disturbance on your part, Private Tor?”

  Lunient didn’t look away. Instead he deliberately looked her up and down with his night-­eyes and smiled. The thin scar on his lower lip made it look like his smile reached his cheek. “I was hoping to share a few more words with you before going to sleep.”

  Jafahan snorted. “I’ve enjoyed explaining to you why your humping rifle is a piece of pig’s shite.”

  Lunient took a step toward Jafahan. When he spoke it was in hilariously broken and off-­key Wolven. “I was rather hoping of sharing warmth with a Seft sister before going into the cold dark sleep.”

  Jafahan let out a sudden and quite uncharacteristic loud cackle. She then took a menacing step toward Lunient—­there was a growing bulge in his towel. Jafahan was not at all unpleased with what she glimpsed.

  “Let me make one thing perfectly clear.” She took a haul from her vapostick before shoving Lunient against a nearby wall and blowing a long wisp of vapor in his face.

  “I am not your friend, your future love or a little girl.” Jafahan punctuated this by rudely poking Lunient in the chest.

  “Weren’t looking for any of the above.” Lunient didn’t blink as Jafahan poked him, but she saw him take a sharp, almost frightened breath. He wasn’t certain if his little gambit was going to result in pleasure or more pain.

  Good, he should always be second-­guessing himself with me.

  “Consider yourself thoroughly warned.” She held his gaze with her own. “Cross the captain or myself and mine will be the last face your eyes ever see. I tell you now, Tor, your ending will neither be quick, painless or pleasant.”

  Lunient gulped as Jafahan came close to him. She sniffed his neck deeply. His smell, even with a slight hint of fear in it, was—­like his size—­not unpleasant.

  Good, he should always be afraid around me.

  “And the same fate will befall you should anyone—­and I do mean anyone—­ever find out about this.”

  Jafahan had never once been an easy prize to either her foes or loves. While under normal circumstances she would probably never have considered Lunient’s offer, the truth remained that she had just faced death and right now Jafahan needed something more than a nice glass of wine or alcohol-­laced vapors.

  Right now what she wanted more than anything was the comfort of a warm body. Lunient Tor was here. He was willing. He would, not so regrettably, have to do.

  Jafahan was first to act, pulling Lunient’s mouth onto hers, and almost tearing his head off. She undid his towel and his hands quickly cupped her breasts. Jafahan dragged Lunient onto the ground, then rolled on top of him.

  “You feel hard enough for me,” Jafahan said as her hand found her way between Lunient’s legs. She slipped off her underpants. “You had best control yourself until I’m done, Tor.”

  Lunient’s eyes went wide, his breath almost trapped in his throat. He gulped. “Fear, it can be a powerful stimulant, ma’am.” Lunient’s voice was a pleasured quivering groan.

  “You might have heard that Wolvers fuck like wild animals.” Jafahan rocked her hips against Lunient, leaning down as she bit his ear hard. “The truth, Private Tor, is that wild animals fuck like Wolvers.”

  CHAPTER 29

  CHORD

  Whether it is electronic or genetic, all of us children of Terra are composed of code. Our existence, organic or digital, is owed to our mutually shared ancestors. True they were far from perfect. However, the world we live in was shaped largely in part by their will. We need not love them. We need only honor, remember and most importantly learn from the tales of Terra’s children past. Doing so allows us to better understand and assist the living descendants of Terra’s children present.

  —­Osirios Sigma, Machina Pilgrim, 12th of SSM–04 235 A1E to 30th of SSM–08 1234 A2E

  11th of SSM–10 1445 A2E

  “By my ancestors’ word, your shell is a work of mechanical art, Machina Chord.” Machinist Kolto’s deep green eyes glowed as he smiled and connected a new index finger piece to Chord’s left hand. Fortunately, the Thegran had, over time, collected quite a batch of various random spare shell parts.

  “Keep talking to the machine like that and I’m like to get jealous,” Machinist Oran Troy snarled at Kolto. “It won’t be machine who keeps you warm tonight, my husband.” Oran’s clothes were stained in various ship oils, sweat and grime. Chord’s sensors detected a strong odor coming off her. If this smell bothered Kolto, he did not seem to show it.

  Kolto shot a wry grin in Chord’s direction from beneath his heavy red mustache. “My guiding star burns more than one thousand suns. Am I correct, Machina?”

  “This unit has trouble understanding Machinist Kolto’s meaning. The temperature of the average star is well beyond the heat generated by the average Humanis.”

  “The stars have never met my love.” Kolto let out a deep rumbling laugh as he screwed the finger tightly onto Chord’s hand. Thankfully, Chord’s shell was compatible with the new piece. Kolto had been able to repair all of Chord’s left hand. The right, unfortunately, would have to wait until they made port at an industrialized world.

  Chord started running a functionality subroutine on the new part; the interface and response was smooth and seamless. “This unit offers thanks to both yourself and Machinist Oran Troy.”

  “Just don’t move while I put a finishing touch on one of many tasks.” Oran pulled down a brown welding face shield as she fused a homemade cover for the huge gaping hole in Chord’s chest. Fortunately, the spike that had pierced Chord’s shell had not damaged its power supply, which would have required a far more difficult repair job. Oran’s new plating was not the same as Chord’s smoothly polished white metal surface, but it was denser and more solid, like a piece of armor.

  Oran wiped her hands off on an oily rag on her belt and examined her work. “Captain’s personal request, Machina. Once the job is done we three need to get Jinxie here starflight-­worthy. Don’t particularly feel like dying in the cold black myself.”

  Oran nodded over to Kolto, then added, “At least not before me and the big one here get to enjoy ourselves a fifth retreat on the moons of Troy.”

  Kolto shot Oran a sly look and shook his head. The Thegran patted Chord’s chest amicably. “Your kind built you Thegran-­strong, Machina Chord.”

  “This unit both recognizes and thanks you for the compliment.”

  The three of them were in the storage bay. Chord took a moment to glance to the side, where the active criopod of Jessie Madison was still running and keeping her asleep. She would remain in this condition at least until Dr. Varsin was certain she had been properly inoculated. This was for both Jessie Madison’s safety as well as the crew’s. Yet Chord was still incredibly curious and almost eager to be able to meet and speak with her.

  “That’s all we can do for you now, Machina.” Oran Troy pulled up her mask and stepped back, wiping sweat from her dirty brow. Kolto let out a sharp whistle as he inspected the plating on Chord’s chest.

  “You put my work to shame as always, my guiding star.” Kolto took Oran’s hand in his.

  Chord noticed a small blush in Oran’s cheeks. “Of course I put it to shame, it was my work!” Her voice was harsh, yet Chord still noticed her give Kolto’s hand a tight squeeze.

  “I think you three have earned yourselves some rest before moving on to the next task.” Captain Morwyn was standing in the storage bay’s entrance with his hands behind his back.

  “I would need about thirty minutes with my man.” Oran smacked Kolto’s buttocks.<
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  Kolto blushed at this and looked to Morwyn. If the exchange between Kolto and Oran had bothered him, it didn’t register on Morwyn’s face. “Could use thirty more on top of that if you please, Captain.”

  Captain Morwyn shook his head and smiled. “I will not stop you. However, I would like a word or two with Machina Chord in private.”

  Kolto and Oran both looked to each other, then back to the captain. “The Machina is about as good as it can get without access to more parts.”

  “Noted. You are both dismissed. Presently Commander Jafahan is prepping the rest of nonessential crew for carbon sleep. Try not to get in their way.”

  Oran snorted as she led Kolto out of the room by the hand. “We’ll try not to bloody traumatize them.”

  Morwyn walked to the workbench, taking his turn to examine Oran’s repair job. Chord got up on its feet so as to look the captain in the face.

  “I would like to apologize to you, Machina Chord. I took a risk on you that I would never have taken with any of my Humanis crew.”

  “Your apologies are not necessary, Captain, as this unit has no ‘hurt feelings’ to speak of. It understands that you were merely doing what needed to be done in order to ensure the crew’s safety and—­” Chord once again looked over to the criotube “—­that of our survivors.”

  “I thank you for your understanding . . . Mr. Chord.”

  Chord cocked its head at the captain’s last comment. “You have not called the unit Machina Chord. Why is that?”

  “I don’t call Commander Jafahan ‘Wolver Jafahan,’ now do I?”

  “This unit has never noticed you do so. More to the point, unlike organic life, the Machina do not identify themselves by or assign each other a gender.”

  Morwyn offered Chord a quizzing upturned eyebrow. “Then by what title would you have me address you?”

  Chord gave the captain’s query a nanosecond of thought. “This unit has always preferred its given designation: Chord.”

  “That is three times tonight that I stand humbled and educated.” Morwyn smiled. “Once again I am truly honored to have someone like you on my ship, Chord. You went above and beyond duty’s call. Phaël, Arturo, Morrigan, our survivors—­all of them are alive thanks to you and your courage.”

  “This unit did not feel particularly brave. It was merely performing its function,” Chord replied truthfully.

  Morwyn rested his hand gently on Chord’s shoulder. “My father once told me that we never know we’ve been brave until after the fact. Now more than ever I am glad I chose you for my ship. You have my word, one day I will personally deliver you to Terra.”

  Chord followed Morwyn as the latter walked over to the criotube. The two looked it over in silence for a long moment.

  At first glance Chord would have thought that the frozen humanoid shape in this criopod was an incredibly thin Thegran. Yet even that would have not been a correct assessment. Her skin was pale, her hair long, a mixture of almost golden brown and orange. There was something quite peaceful to her sleeping state.

  “A living piece of our past.” Morwyn looked to Chord. “What do you think will happen when she is awakened?”

  “Sir, she is with child.” Chord paused, then replied, “This unit could not imagine what it would be like. She will no doubt feel alone.”

  Morwyn nodded, not looking away. “Yes, she will, won’t she?” The captain turned to look Chord in the eye. “In all of the Infinite, I would like to believe there are far worse places to wind up on than this ship.”

  “This unit would be in agreement.”

  Morwyn gave Jessie Madison a last look before turning to leave. Chord called out to him and the young man stopped in his tracks. “Captain? About the unit named OMEX . . .”

  “I offered OMEX a chance to assist us with the rescue. It refused.”

  “Would you have offered this unit a chance under similar circumstances?”

  Morwyn did not even miss a beat. “Of course, Chord.” Morwyn brought his fist to his heart in a salute, and with that he turned around and left Chord alone.

  Chord sat down cross-­legged in front of the criotube. The pilgrimage to the Cradle world of Terra was considered a sacred thing among the Machina. While it was difficult to believe in fates or synchronicities, there was no better word to use what was being experienced at this very moment.

  This was the right path; Jessie Madison, a direct link to the past that all Machina and Humanis shared, was proof of this. “Wake up soon, Jessie Madison,” Chord spoke, and projected the holographic image of old Earth over her sleeping visage.

  “Wake up soon, Jessie Madison,” Chord repeated, this time using Late Modern. It was more than likely that Jessie Madison would not be able to hear a single word. Still, something compelled the words to come out over and over, like a peaceful comforting mantra.

  “Wake up soon, Jessie Madison.”

  Chord would not have to wait terribly long.

  CHAPTER 30

  JESSIE MADISON

  For the first time since she can remember, the dream is not beyond her control. She is alone in a cold quiet state of peaceful darkness. Her mind is resting and relaxed as part of her feels incredibly safe.

  “Mom.” Malory’s voice breaks the silence. Jessie can more feel her presence than see it. She does not mind this.

  “Yes, my dearest?” Jessie asks.

  “We are no longer in the dark place.” Malory’s voice is one of hopeful joy.

  “I know.” Jessie is so overjoyed to still hear her daughter, here in the dream she has built for herself.

  “The hateful voice is gone,” Malory says, not masking the relief that she must feel.

  “Yes, I think she is,” Jessie replies.

  “Are we safe now?”

  Jessie hesitates before answering. She chooses to tell her the truth. “I don’t know, my little one.”

  Malory is unrelenting in her questions. She can barely contain her excitement. “Will I be able to wake up soon?”

  “Yes, we both will.”

  “I would like to feel the real world.”

  “So would I . . .” Jessie pauses; she knows nothing of where they will awaken to.

  As if she can sense her emotions, Malory asks quickly, “Are you frightened?”

  Once again her decision is to tell Malory the truth. “When we wake up, everything will be outside of my control. Everything will be uncertain.” She pauses before adding, “I am very afraid.”

  “Then you should hold on to me, Mommy. So that neither one of us will ever have to be.”

  Here and now, in the place of dreams, Jessie takes Malory in her arms and holds her tightly. A calm mechanical voice can be heard from somewhere, the real world outside the dream; it repeats itself over and over again.

  “Wake up soon, Jessie Madison.”

  Jessie Madison and Malory hold each other tightly. “Just you and me, cowgirl, just you and me.”

  Soon they will wake up and be free to experience the world, no matter how frightening and unknown, once again. Together.

  Neither Jessie Madison nor Malory will have to wait that long.

  LEXICON

  Argent: Formerly a Pax protectorate, the nation of Argent used its considerable financial powers to break free from the will of the Hegemons. Argent has since then become an elitist society of godlike rich royals, challenging the Pax Humanis at any or every given opportunity. The baron princes of Argent are openly vying for the complete downfall of the Pax Humanis.

  Ador: Ador is one of the rare nations of the cosmos with a population that is incredibly mixed. That being said, the nation of Ador has not, until recently, known any lengthy period of peace. Formerly a province of Argent, Ador endured countless horrors under the yoke of their former rulers. Ever since earning its freedom during the Liberation War, Ador has made it a
point to have their nation be an active participant in the galactic theater.

  The Advent War: The Second Great War, during which Humanis and Machina fought side by side against the machine singularity called Pontifex, also known as the False Machine God. After the war the Machina offered the Humanis slipdrive technology, making starflight and galactic colonization possible. Unfortunately, Earth, the Cradle, was left scorched.

  The Adoran Liberation War: Ador as a nation had been under the yoke of tyranny since its birth. Its former rulers were the baron princes of the nation of Argent, who oppressed and subjected their subjects to countless horrors. The baron princes of Argent were secretly offered backing by the Pax Humanis fleets. In response to this, Warlord Valtros united the interfighting Adoran mercenary fleets under his banner, challenging the rule of Argent and offering freedom to anyone who sided with his cause. The ensuing civil war lasted seventeen years. In the end the Liberation armies stood victorious, installing a new democratic parliament. To this day many Adorans still hold a massive grudge against the Pax Humanis for offering support to their former Argentine oppressors.

  Ambrosia: Once known as the smugglers’ gem, the former syndicate-­run “paradise world” of Ambrosia was forcefully made into a protectorate of the Pax Humanis. Despite being under the rule of the Hegemon’s Law, Ambrosia remains to this day one of the poorest and most violent portions of its population. The majority of its Ambrosia is made up of declassified citizens.

  Alexandros: A younger nation comprised mostly of scholars, Alexandros is on the borders of End Space and boasts a rich diverse population. The spirit of cooperation and peace is very present on Alexandros. It is one of the only Covenant nations that does not possess a single military vessel and all of their progressive scientific developments remain purely pacifistic in nature and design.

  Barathul: After Sol, Barathul is the second oldest nation in the Pax Humanis, and proud of it. There are few worlds that can boast such a huge level of success and law. Barathul’s navy and military are second to none and do justice to the Pax Humanis rigid discipline.