by M. D. Cooper
Neither man spoke for a minute before Joe remembered himself and held out his hand.
“Seraph, good to see you.”
Seraph looked at Joe’s hand for a moment before he clasped it for a brief shake.
“Joe, I didn’t expect to see you here. I didn’t expect to see…anyone…”
Joe nodded. “Not a lot of folks about tonight. May I come in?”
Seraph looked surprised and then nodded. “Yeah, sure, of course. Let me get Mom.”
Joe stepped inside and closed the door while Seraph disappeared down the front hall. He slipped off his jacket and kicked the shoes from his feet. The house looked and smelled just as he recalled; completely unchanged from his previous visits—though very different from his small childhood home back on Venus.
He peered into the family room to the left of the hall and chuckled as he saw two small girls constructing a doll house. Unchanged in every way, except for the faces of the children.
He wondered how many children his mother had borne, and was surprised to see, upon a quick check over the Link, that the two girls were the eighty-fourth and eighty-seventh out of ninety-one. He placed just ninth in her brood.
The girls looked up at him and one smiled. A frown creased the older girl’s forehead as she looked him up on her retinal HUD.
“Joseph?” she asked. “Our brother?”
Joe nodded. “In the flesh. It’s nice to meet you…Jennifer and Linh.”
They rose and approached him, expressions solemn, yet curious. “You’re from her first family, aren’t you?” Jennifer, the older of the two asked.
Joe nodded. “Yup, the Evans Bunch we like to call ourselves.”
The girls were looking at him curiously and he wondered why when the voice of his mother called out from behind him.
“Joseph! You’ve come home at last!”
Joe turned to see his mother, Mary, smiling ear-to-ear, approaching with open arms. He returned the smile and wrapped her in a fierce hug, reveling in the unchanged scent of her favorite perfume.
“It’s good to see you, Mother,” Joe said as they separated and looked into one another’s eyes.
His mother was just as he remembered, unchanged in the years since he last saw her—since his childhood in fact. She was tall, just a centimeter shorter than him, and her steel grey eyes appeared to see right through him, though managed to do so with love. Hers widened and he saw a brief flash of the same expression the two girls had. Then it was gone and she took his arm.
“Forgive us, girls, I need to have a private chat with this son of mine.”
Jennifer and Linh nodded solemnly and turned back to the doll house, surveying their work thus far. He overheard Linh whisper to Jennifer in soft tones, “He doesn’t look evil. I thought the Terrans were evil.”
Seraph followed them down the long hall and through the kitchen—which was occupied by several children cleaning dishes from the evening meal. A pie sat on the counter, most likely for a desert now put off with his arrival.
“Gerry, three coffees,” she called out to one of the boys as they walked through.
“Yes, Mom,” came the reply, and then they were in her office.
His mother ushered them in and then closed the door. She gestured for them to sit in the grouping of deep, leather chairs arranged artfully beside her desk.
They settled into the brown leather seats and no one spoke for several minutes. His mother looked at him long and hard, while Seraph’s eyes darted between them.
“I’m surprised they let you down here,” she said at last.
Joe gave a rueful laugh. “They weren’t happy about it. As much out of spite, anger, and fear as anything else. They know they may have to protect me while I’m planet-side from their own people.”
“It was no laughing matter down here when your ship showed up in our skies and made war on us,” Mary said.
Joe shook his head. “No, I imagine it wasn’t—though all that wouldn’t have happened if those—.”
“Don’t you blame our people,” Seraph interrupted. “They were defending their world. You killed them!”
Joe often wondered why Seraph had stayed with his mother all these years. He wasn’t the most patient person in the worlds. He didn’t really make a great father figure—though he didn’t really need to. There was always a crop of young men rising through the ranks eager to guide the younger children.
“I’m reasonably certain that I didn’t kill anyone in the battle, though I lost a lot of friends,” Joe replied, then turned to his mother. “Did I lose anyone else?”
She shook her head. “No family died over in our skies that I know of, though two of your sisters nearly did.”
“Who?” Joe asked, praying that they were innocent bystanders, not a part of the armada which attacked the Normandy.
“Rory and Katelyn,” Seraph provided. “They were on the lead tug when your ship detonated a planet killer.”
Rory and Katelyn. Joseph knew them. They hadn’t grown-up in their mother’s house at the same time as he had, but they had met several times during holidays and family reunions. They were, amazingly, the only twins in the family. Rory was always the serious and studious one and Katelyn a gregarious hot head. He had gotten along famously with her.
“I heard that tug’s pilots made it. They detected the missile as it passed and spun their rock to protect themselves from the blast,” Joe replied. “It was a slick maneuver.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Seraph said acidly.
“I’m impressed, glad they lived, and pissed off that they’d do something so stupid,” Joe said with a scowl. “The entire attack was moronic. Everyone knows that carriers have planet killers. Push comes to shove and they’ll use them.”
“I had always believed they needed an order from the triumvirate to launch those missiles,” Mary said, a worried frown creasing her brow.
Joe nodded. “Yes, if they launch them at planets. This one was far enough away to launch at the captain’s discretion.”
“I don’t know if that’s a distinction anyone not in the military was aware of,” Mary replied with a sigh.
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door and Gerry entered with three cups of coffee on a tray. Joe took his black and stared into it while Seraph and his mother added cream to theirs.
That his kin were involved in the attack on the Normandy was not a fact that military intelligence was likely to miss. He suspected that his conversation with his mother was being monitored. It was likely why he was allowed to come to Makemake in the first place.
“Are you upset about the position they put you in?” his mother asked after taking a sip from her cup.
She had always been perceptive, his mother. He supposed raising nearly a hundred children and not having them take advantage of you made a keen eye and mind a job requirement.
“More about what they’ve done to you,” Joe replied. “You’re to be having some very uncomfortable conversations in the upcoming days.”
Mary nodded, her eyes filling with worry. “I know. I’ve already been informed of that eventuality. Luckily they have a long list of suspects, and I’m likely to just be a follow-up.”
“Are you not worried about Rory and Katelyn?” Seraph asked. “They’re likely to undergo corrective re-conditioning for this.”
Joe wished Seraph wasn’t here; was starting to wish he had never come. Seraph never could see beyond his own hurt, beyond what affected him.
“Why don’t you shut up,” Joe said. “What would you rather—that they rotted in a prison for a hundred years? That they were severed from the nets? I nearly killed my own sisters! Do you understand that? I was seconds, seconds away from firing on those tugs when the captain warned me off!”
Joe realized he was half out of his chair and saw that Seraph had drawn back, cowering in his.
His mother stood and spoke kindly to her younger son. “Seraph, I think you should go. I’ll continue with Joseph alone
.”
Seraph didn’t speak as he left the room, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hate.
Joe found that he didn’t care.
His mother turned back to him once the doors to her office had closed and held out a hand. He rose and she wrapped him in a deep embrace.
“It’s OK, son. These are hard times, and family often does not do what you’d like—trust me, I know.”
Joe nodded and settled into his mother’s arms, the memories of a thousand hugs and comforting embraces filling his mind. He felt the tears well up, and a moment later he was sobbing on his mother’s shoulder.
“There, there, love. It will be alright. You’ll figure this out. You’ve always been able to make your own way in the world. No matter what, I’ll always love and support you.”
She spoke other comforting words and he lost track of how long she held him before he finally pulled away and wiped his eyes clear.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just so sorry.”
“I know, dear, but you have nothing to be sorry about.”
Joe looked into her eyes and saw nothing but love and forgiveness. This was why he had come, to have her tell him that she forgave him, that everything would be OK. And to say goodbye.
She drew him to the sofa and they sat beside one another.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked. She always had a way of divining his intentions. She knew he was facing a change.
“I’m leaving,” he replied.
“Leaving the Terran Space Force?” she asked.
He knew she didn’t approve of the Terrans, but he was surprised at the way she emphasized the word Terran. Did she expect him to enlist with the Scattered Worlds?
“No,” he shook his head. “I’m leaving Sol.”
SOMETHING MORE
STELLAR DATE: UNKNOWN
LOCATION: UNKNOWN
REGION: Sol Space Federation
Myrrdan examined the door. Made of grey plas and reinforced with high-carbon steel, it had no handle or other manual mechanism for opening.
He touched the panel on the wall and established a physical Link with the locking mechanism. It queried him for his token, and he passed the specialized code he had received for this occasion.
The panel flashed green, and the door slid aside, revealing a dark room. A moment later, the lights flickered on and he saw that it was a rather nondescript lab. Two automatons stood at the far end of the room, and a mod-chair was perched atop a pedestal.
Myrrdan had spent plenty of time in mod-chairs. Little of his body and mind resembled its original state—though a casual observer would not have been able to tell there was anything too unusual about him.
Before he crossed the threshold, Myrrdan flushed a cloud of nano into the room, ensuring the space was clear of danger. Nothing appeared on his scans, and he stepped into the room, grimacing as the door sliding shut behind him.
“OK,” he announced to the empty lab, “you contacted me to do a job for you, and here I am. I certainly hope you don’t think I’m going to hop in that mod-chair. I’m all set just the way I am.”
“Well, slide that door back open and I’ll be on my way,” Myrrdan replied. “I’m not hurting for work right now. I could be stealing secrets from one of a dozen corporations right now, or stealing one back that I nabbed just last week.”
Myrrdan shrugged. “Just working for the highest bidder. I plan to have a long retirement.”
“OK, look,” Myrrdan said, “you need to identify yourself and tell me how you’re talking into my head when I can’t trace you.”
A figure materialized in-front of him. Myrrdan didn’t pick up any holoprojectors—it could be hard-light, but he had never seen anything this elaborate crated using that technology before.
“There are many things I can do that you cannot understand,” the figure said aloud, though Myrrdan also felt as though the words were coming to him over the Link, too.
“You can say that again—like how you just pulled off that trick,” Myrrdan replied. “Who…what are you?”
The figure was silent for a moment, then it walked toward Myrrdan. He stiffened as it approached. The air around it crackled with energy; it was certainly not a projection of any sort. This being was real, and this was its actual form.
“I need you to board a colony ship and change its destination,” the figure said. “It must never reach the world in its charter. You will see to this. You will help and hinder the crew of this ship, as necessary, to achieve my goals.”
“Whoa,” Myrrdan held up his hand. “That sounds like it will take decades, maybe centuries. I have things I want to do here in Sol. Find someone else for this gig.”
“Oh?” the figure asked, and Myrrdan saw it open its glowing blue eyes wider. “I suppose you’re happy being a Class 2 human, then.”
Myrrdan barked a laugh. “Nice one. There’s nothing higher than Class 2—not unless you get one of those big conical braincases, and I’m not going to look like some mod freak just to get a tenth of the way further toward Class 3.”
“True,” the figure said absently. “Class 3 and above are traditionally cognitive rankings reserved for AIs, but what if we just go right to Class 5? How does that strike you?”
Myrrdan couldn’t help but assume that the figure was serious…this creature that appeared to be made of nothing more than crackling white- and blue-tinted energy.
“I…I…” he stuttered as it stepped closer to him. A hand brushed his shoulder and he jumped as a feeling of pure euphoria surged through him.
“Get in the chair,” the figure said.
Myrrdan glanced around the lab, looking for a way out, only to see the two automatons at his side. He hadn’t noticed them move. How was that possible?
They grabbed him and lifted him into the mod-chair, the sealed lab containing his screams as they fastened clamps and straps over his body.
“This won’t hurt too much, I’ll do my best to make sure of that,” the figure said as it leaned over him and touched its finger to his forehead.
Dazzling light erupted behind his eyes and he passed into unconsciousness.
ACCEPTANCE
STELLAR DATE: 3226929 / 12.07.4122 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Edge of the Grey Sea, Pluto
REGION: Jovian Combine, Sol Space Federation
Ten years after the events at Toro and Makemake…
A young sapling exploded beside Tanis and she dove for cover, scampering away as splinters flew in every direction. She slipped into a depression, flattening herself as much as possible, hoping it was enough to stay out of sight. Another shot hit a rock nearby and liquid fragments of stone rained down, beading off her armor.
Both Sorensen and Reynolds signaled negative.
Angela was covering tactical coordination and placed several pointers on the team member’s HUDs.
Several more shots impacted the ground around the team’s position. Reynolds slipped his rifle up over his cover and fired two electron beams before pulling back and rolling to a new location. He continued to draw as much attention as possible while Tanis and Sorensen worked toward their new positions.
Tanis made it to the stream bed without drawing any fire and her retinal HUD indicated Sorensen was in position and had deployed his nanoprobes.
The enemy obliged, returning fire at Reynolds’ previous location.
There was a moment of silence, the rippling of the water flowing past her body seemed to grow in volume; then the desired explosion flared up and streams of plasma sprayed in every direction.
Tanis’s visor darkened to shield her eyes. When the tint faded, she saw a hundred-meter swath of young forest on fire.
Tanis rose out of the water, unlocked her helmet and tucked it under her arm. Above her, the roar of orbital drop craft and the accompanying streams of fire turned the night sky into a spectacular show—arcs of color and plasma painted across the backdrop of Jupiter’s dark bands.
It had been some time since she had been in a primary assault force, the last five years had been filled with out-of-the-way assignments, such as this one.
Strangely, the familiar yearning to be in on the larger action just wasn’t there. For that matter, the exultation she should have been feeling in securing her target wasn’t there either
Over the nine years since Toro, Angela had become closer than a sister or a best friend; it was almost as though Angela was simply another side to her. Tanis knew that wasn’t entirely true—the AI residing in her head was a distinct individual, even though at times it didn’t feel that way.
