Ep.#2 - Rescue (The Frontiers Saga - Part 2: Rogue Castes)

by Ryk Brown

  “It will be ready,” Doctor Megel assured her. “Frankly, I’m more concerned with building the consciousness transfer system. Their technologies may be more advanced, but their computer systems are vastly different from our own.”

  “Can’t you just build one of our computers?”

  “If I already had the components, possibly. But my expertise is not hardware. I am a programmer by training. All of my hardware knowledge is coincidental to that. It is better that I rewrite the code to work with the Corinairan operating systems and hardware. At least that I know how to do.”

  Michi nodded, stepping up to the makeshift control console for the primary cloning bath. “I cannot believe I’m going to grow a clone using baths. It’s like doing surgery with knives, needles, and sutures.” She activated the controls, and a moment later, the chemicals in the small primary cloning bath in front of her began to swirl and glow. “The process has started,” she announced. She turned to look at Doctor Megel again. “I only hope their expectations do not exceed our abilities.”

  “All we can do is our best,” Doctor Megel told her. “And if we fail, they could always go back and ask our leaders for help again.”

  “By that time, the captain’s consciousness may no longer be viable,” Doctor Sato reminded him.

  * * *

  Thousands gathered on the parade grounds of the under-construction Earth Defense Force academy grounds on the coast of the Florida peninsula. Tens of thousands more filled the streets outside, despite the heat and humidity. They could not see, but they could hear. More importantly, they could say that they were there, when Captain Nathan Scott was laid to rest.

  Millions more watched via every broadcast medium that still functioned on planet Earth. In every country, and on every continent, and eventually, also on every Alliance world within the Sol sector.

  There were no bands, no pipes, no roaring crowds. Only a deafening silence, broken only by the sounds of footsteps walking slowly along the pavement, and the brief snap of the snare drum rolls on every fourth step of the steady procession.

  The line was led by President Dayton Scott, leader of the newly formed Earth Coalition of Nations, followed by a cadre of his youngest son’s shipmates, headed by Captain Taylor, the new commander of the Aurora, and Lieutenant Commander Kamenetskiy, the ship’s chief engineer—both of them close friends of the man they now carried to his final resting place.

  With the suicide of Captain Scott leaving them no living body to torture to death, the Jung agreed to return the young Captain’s body to his family, and to the people whom he had died to protect. Some felt it a sign of goodwill by the Jung, others saw it as a bargaining chip to be used at the cease-fire negotiations that had only recently begun.

  The procession made its way from the temporary spaceport on the far side of the academy grounds, across the vast campus, and finally to the eastern end of the parade grounds, where it butted up to the coastline.

  Once at the presentation stage, the president and his aides stepped to one side, looking on as the bearers carried the casket up the side steps and to the front and center of the stage. They placed the casket carefully on its stand, then stepped back, lining up on either side directly behind the casket, and in front of the speaker’s platform.

  The flag bearers came next. Dozens of them, the first carrying the EDF flag, the rest bearing all the flags of the coalition, followed by those from the other Alliance worlds within the Sol sector. As they arrived, each flag bearer placed their flag into its holder along the top of the hillside bleachers on either side of the grounds, and took their positions alongside their respective charges, encircling the area.

  Following the flags were the representatives from the different EDF academies from around the world, all of which were now overflowing with volunteers applying for entry. They lined up in front of the rows of flags, on either side of the parade grounds, directly behind and above the top rows of bleachers.

  Finally, dignitaries, from both Earth and beyond, entered the seating area, taking seats front and center, and filling outward from the stage one row at a time. After them, the rest of the public that had joined the procession began filling the bleachers.

  President Scott stood motionless, his face devoid of expression, despite both the great sorrow, and the great pride that he felt. The manner in which every person conducted themselves, the respect that every person showed, and the incredible quiet, despite the almost coordinated movement of thousands of attendees, spoke volumes about the young man they had come to honor that day. His son.

  The last of the attendees took their seats in the bleachers, as well as the open standing areas around the parade grounds. Once everyone was assembled, an EDF Marine sergeant stepped forward. His uniform was crisp, colorful, and fitted, with white hat and gloves, and a polished silver sword hanging at his side. He was young, with eyes of steel, squared jawed and shouldered, with a well-honed manner. He took a deep breath and barked, crisp and loud, “A-ten-SHUN!”

  Every uniformed officer in attendance snapped to perfect attention at the exact same time. The sound of their movement- the rustle of pant legs and the snap of their heels as they came together—like a cannon shot that would later be reported to have been heard for miles.

  “Saaa-LUTE!” the sergeant barked next.

  Again, in unison, a thousand uniformed officers raised their hands sharply, fingertips at hat brims for a full second, before lowering their hands to their sides.

  The sergeant stepped back into the line, standing at attention, after which President Scott ascended the steps and took the speaker’s platform, making his way to the podium to speak.

  They lined the streets of Aitkenna on that cloudy morning. Hundreds of thousands. Men, women, children. People from all walks of life, all professions, all beliefs, and all political leanings… On that day, they all had something uniquely in common. They had all once been saved by the man they came to honor that day. The man they called Na-Tan.

  They stood along the main roadway that led from the spaceport, through the center of the capital city, and to the Walk of Heroes located in the park at the city’s center. At five point eight kilometers, the walk wrapped its way around the middle of the massive park. On either side of the broad walkway were the graves of those who had sacrificed themselves to protect their world. Their numbers had grown so much over the decades that there was scarcely room to accommodate them all. Even so, each and every grave was still marked with only a simple headstone that displayed a portrait and name laser-etched into the stone. At the foot of each grave was a display screen built into the stone that, when tapped with one’s foot, projected a life-sized holographic image of the person buried there, allowing them to live on for as long as their world survived.

  The people of Corinair watched as legions of pipers marched, blowing their lilting melody with practiced ease, as they split in half, each taking their own route around the Walk of Heroes.

  They finally came to rest, their haunting melody fading away, in front of the largest headstone installed. It was five times larger, if not six, and had a life-size holographic display that remained always on, and would remain that way, for as long as the world of Corinair survived.

  Admiral Travon Dumar, retired, took the stage, pausing behind the podium before speaking. He looked out on the crowd that filled the park and spilled out onto the streets of Aitkenna, wondering if any words could befit such an occasion. Tens, if not hundreds, of thousands, were quiet at this moment.

  “The man I knew was not Na-Tan. The man I knew was Captain Nathan Scott. He had no interest in being Na-Tan. He was only trying to do the right thing, for everyone. Everyone except for himself. Right up until the end of his young life.”

  “We have all lost someone,” President Scott said, continuing his speech. “Sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, friends… All of us. I mysel
f have lost two sons, a son-in-law, and…” The president paused, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “…and my wife. No one’s pain is less, or more. Today, let us not grieve for one man. Let us grieve for all those who have been lost. Let us not honor the sacrifice of one man. Let us honor the sacrifices of all who have given so much.”

  Admiral Dumar looked to his right, at the life-size holographic image of Captain Scott, standing confidently, wearing his usual smile. “Captain Scott once told me that Na-Tan was not a man, but an idea. An idea that when the greater good of humanity is in need, there will always be someone who will step up to fill the role. Someone to lead us, to inspire us… Someone to make us believe that all hope is not lost. Na-Tans come and go everyday. Teachers who inspire their students. Mothers who inspire their children. Philosophers who inspire thought. Artists who inspire emotion. And leaders, who inspire us all to do what we can to contribute to the greater good. That is what Na-Tan is. He is the good in all of us.”

  President Scott looked down at his data pad for a moment. “I’d like to share with you my son’s last words, written on the eve of his death.” The president looked down again, clearing his throat, and struggling to keep from breaking down in tears.

  “For the longest time, I wanted nothing more than to escape. To escape the expectations of my family, the expectations of the public, and especially the expectations of you. I thought that everyone wanted me to be something other than who I was. Who I am. Like I was supposed to become some great leader. Rich, powerful, charismatic. The man that you wanted me to be. And all I wanted to do was to be myself. Back then, I thought myself was the opposite of what everyone wanted me to be. But now, I realize that nothing could be further from the truth. Now, I realize that you only wanted me to find my own way. Well, it appears that I have done so. Unfortunately, it led me to this cell. But I do not regret the choices that brought me here. All men die. Rarely do we get to choose when, and even more rarely, do we get to die protecting something we truly cherish.”

  President Scott’s voice started to crack, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he continued reading.

  “Do not for a moment believe that my death changes anything. There will always be those who prey upon the weak, just as there will always be those to defend them. I chose to be one who defended them. For the opportunity to do so, I am incredibly honored.”

  “Captain Scott did not give us back our freedom,” the admiral continued, “he gave us the ability to take it back ourselves. He gave us back our pride. He gave us back our dignity. He stood in harm’s way on our behalf, and gave us the strength to fight back. Never again will Corinair allow itself to be subjugated. To do so would dishonor not only Captain Scott, but all those who died before him, and alongside him. To do so would dishonor the very spirit of Na-Tan.”

  Admiral Dumar looked out across the sea of faces, taking a deep breath. “Please, join me in a moment of silent respect for Captain Nathan Scott, as well as all those memorialized on this great walk.”

  Admiral Dumar closed his eyes and bowed his head. Tens of thousands gathered in the park bowed their heads as well, along with hundreds of thousands gathered in the streets nearby. An incredible quiet fell upon the entire city of Aitkenna, and perhaps over the entire planet of Corinair as well.

  After two minutes had passed, a lone piper began playing the standard Corinari funeral tune, Ode to the Fallen. The pipes droned on, its haunting melody echoing off the tall buildings that surrounded the great park at the center of the planet’s capital city. Finally, the song came to an end, and the silence returned.

  There was no further ceremony. As was custom, the crowds began to slowly and quietly disperse, each of them reflecting on the man they had assembled to honor, as they made their way back to their respective lives. Lives that Na-Tan had given them.

  The EDF Marine sergeant stepped forward once again, barking out his commands. “Company, A-ten-SHUN!”

  In unison, every person in uniform, military or civilian, snapped to attention in a brief rustle of clothing, clapping of hands at their sides, and the clicking of their heels as they came together.

  Seven EDF Marines, each in full dress uniforms, raised their weapons toward the sky and fired in unison. One shot. Two shots. Three. Their last shots fired, they placed their weapons at their sides in unison, remaining at attention as a lone bugler began playing Taps from beside the gunmen. As he blew each phrase, another bugler located at the opposite side of the parade grounds repeated the phrase, as if it was an echo.

  As the second bugler echoed the last note, a flight of six Super Eagles approached from low over the horizon. They streaked overhead, passing from the end of the parade grounds opposite the stage from which President Scott had spoken. As they passed, one Super Eagle pitched straight up, climbing like a rocket into the sky. A split second later, all six Super Eagles disappeared behind blue-white flashes of light, followed a second later by the screeching crackle of their jumps.

  On Earth, just as on Corinair, those who had gathered to pay their last respects to the young man who had sacrificed himself to save them all, quietly dispersed, also returning to the lives Captain Scott had given them.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Incredible.” It was the only word Connor Tuplo could think to say. “You did all of that, for me… I mean, for him? For Captain Scott?”

  “You… He, would have done the same for any one of us,” Jessica replied.

  Connor looked at Josh and Marcus. “You two, as well?”

  “Yup,” Marcus replied.

  “You know me, Cap’n,” Josh said. “I love a good adventure.”

  Connor shook his head, still in shock.

  “Incredible,” he muttered again. “But that still doesn’t explain how I came to be. If I am a clone, how did I end up as Connor Tuplo?”

  “Two years later, after your body had been grown to maturity, we attempted to restore your consciousness and memories.”

  “You attempted?” Connor did not like what they were implying.

  “Both Michi and Turi warned us that it might not work,” Jessica admitted.

  “Michi and Turi?”

  “Doctors Sato and Megel.”

  “I thought they were my medical doctors,” Connor said.

  “That’s what we told you.”

  “I thought there was something different about them. So they’re…”

  “Clones, yes,” General Telles confirmed. “Nifelmians have had their genetics skewed over the centuries, in order to facilitate the transfer process. In addition, there are risks associated with the Portable Consciousness Capture Device. It is meant to be used only in emergencies.”

  “Which is exactly what we had at the time,” Jessica added.

  “When you regained consciousness, you had no memory of who you were, or of any of the events of your life. However, your personality had successfully been restored.”

  Connor looked confused. “Isn’t your personality partly shaped by the events in your life?”

  “Indeed, they are,” the general agreed. “Also, by training and discipline, such as the techniques used by the Ghatazhak.”

  “Then I’m not really Nathan, am I,” Connor concluded. “Not if part of me is missing.”

  “In a manner of speaking, you are correct. However, since part of your personality is genetic, you are the only person who has the potential to become Nathan Scott.”

  “And you want Nathan Scott back.”

  “We need Nathan Scott back,” the general corrected. “The want is irrelevant.”

  “Maybe to you,” Jessica objected.

  “And here I just thought you needed my ship, or my piloting skills.”

  “They showed me the mission parameters, Cap’n,” Josh said. “I’m pretty sure it ain’t your piloting skills they’re after.”
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br />   Marcus slapped the side of Josh’s head.

  “What?” Josh said, flinching from the slap. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.” He looked at Jessica. “Am I right?”

  “Actually, yes.” She looked at Connor. “No offense intended. I’m sure you’re an excellent pilot. I mean, Nathan was, so… It’s just that Josh has done this kind of thing before, and with the Seiiki.”

  Connor looked at Josh. “You flew the Seiiki before I hired you?”

  “Actually, it was called the Mirai, but, yeah.”

  Connor was still confused. “Wait.” He looked at Marcus. “That guy in the bar in Forus, the one claiming that he’d seen my ship before, but it wasn’t named the Seiiki. I remember he was threatening to tell the authorities that our registry was forged. He wanted money.” He looked at Jessica and Telles again. “If everything you’re saying is true, then that guy was right.” Connor looked at Marcus again. “We never saw him again, and didn’t hear anything else about it. And we’ve been back to Forus more than a few times.” Connor noticed that Marcus was looking away. “Marcus?”

  “Uh, yes, sir?”

  “Did you…”

  “I was just doin’ my job, Cap’n, honest.”

  “Marcus and Josh were assigned to protect you,” General Telles explained. “And if unable to do so, to direct you back to us, so that the Ghatazhak could protect you.”

  “You killed him?” Connor shook his head, appalled. “Marcus, he was just trying to shake us down for a few credits…”

  “I was doin’ my job! That piece of shit was gonna bring us all kinds of trouble, Cap’n.”