Rift

by Nathan Hystad

  By the end, CD6 was nervous but ready for another adventure. “Take me to the vessel,” he said, not wanting to waste time.

  “You’re doing a great thing here, Charles.” Benson clapped him on the back, and CD6 finally began to feel like he was fitting in.

  Jish

  Three days to go. Jish Karn paced around the near-empty bridge of the Stellae. She suddenly felt every year of her age. Her bones ached, and her hips were tight. It was time to send the probe out and have it wait there, taking footage of the Rift. Three days until they’d find out if the Invaders were going to attack. She closed her eyes and saw the image of the alien below deck, scratching red lines through the zoomed-in image of Earth.

  Whatever happened, they were ready. She told herself this over and over as she slumped down onto the admiral’s chair. “Are we ready for launch?” she asked the lone man on board. He was her most trusted officer: a man twenty years her junior, but as loyal as they came. Henry glanced back at her from his spot at the front of the bridge.

  “Probe is ready for launch.” He zoomed in on the small vessel five thousand kilometers from their current position.

  They’d tested the Shift drive a hundred times on the small probe, tweaking it until it worked properly. She was confident it would arrive at the programmed destination with ease, but that didn’t stop her from being as nervous as she’d ever been. This had to work. They needed to have the upper hand on the Invaders, or it was all for nothing. She’d had terrible dreams last night. Hundreds of their gigantic vessels emerged from the Rift; thousands of their alien-manned fighters roamed into the solar system, each with Shift drive capability. Jish was proud of the Fleet’s two dozen vessels with the same technology, but there just wasn’t enough time. The reverse engineering took far too long.

  Thirty years. They needed at least thirty more years. Maybe the Invaders wouldn’t be there this time. The Rift could open up, reveal nothing, and close a while later. These were all possibilities Jish had to consider, but deep in her heart, she knew these were dreams she told herself to stay calm. The enemy would be there in force. She had to be ready.

  Henry cleared his throat, and she looked down at him from the view of the lone probe against the backdrop of deep space. She took a breath, held it briefly, and sighed it out. “Activate the drive. Send it on its way.” She leaned forward in her seat and saw something she’d never expected. It was so outrageous, she started to laugh. Deep racking laughs from her belly turned to sobs, and her hands came to cover her face.

  The probe had exploded. Pieces of it were floating in their viewscreen. Henry was ashen, and he muttered something Jish couldn’t hear.

  Wren

  “I’ll take a coffee, please.” Wren heard the pilot’s voice at the bar and looked up to see Flint Lancaster leaning one arm on the countertop and surveying the room. His eyes met hers and he smiled. What was it about this guy that intrigued her? His hair was brown, a little shaggy for her liking. He could use a shave, and he always seemed to be fighting a grin, like he expected someone to tell a joke at any given time.

  But still, she could tell he’d taken an interest in her. She used to be blind to that sort of thing, always nose-deep into a research paper or her work, but now, after two years away from any sort of work or men, it was obvious. She wondered how many men had given her the same signals back in New Dallas. Her ex-fiancé Timothy had only caught her eye because he was a doctor, working in the same field. Otherwise, she was sure she’d have stayed alone. The way he’d turned out, she wished she had been alone those last few years.

  “Dr. Sando,” Flint said, approaching the table with a mug in his hand. “Good to see you. I didn’t expect any familiar faces here at this hour.”

  “Please call me Wren. I’ve always thought that phrase funny. We’re in space, far away from a rotating planet around the sun, and days really have no meaning other than a structure for a work shift or sleeping.” Wren said this and instantly regretted it. Why did she always feel the need to comment on everything?

  He didn’t seem to care and grinned in that insufferable yet charming way he had. “I agree, but let’s face it. I need a solid three meals a day, and without the clock, I might miss one.”

  It was her turn to laugh. Who was this man who could so quickly disarm thirty-two years of barriers?

  “I guess you do have me there. How did you get here?” she asked impulsively. They’d met, but no one spoke of his back story or his journey here.

  “I left my quarters and asked an android for the nearest cafeteria,” Flint said, straight-faced.

  That was how it was going to be. “Very funny. Seriously, what’s your story?” Wren asked.

  He glanced at her empty cup. All that remained was an inch of tepid water and some green leaves. “If you want that, we’re going to need something a little stronger.”

  “Deal. How about an ale from the Moons?” she asked, and Flint nodded.

  “I just came from there, and can attest they have fine beer.” He got up and crossed the room to the bar, coming back with two tall glasses in mere moments.

  They clinked glasses, his eyes locked on to hers as they did so. “To new friendships,” he said with a wink, mirroring her cheers from the other day. Odd that he’d say the same thing.

  Wren took a sip and set the glass down. “There. We have a drink. We made a toast. How did you end up here?”

  “You see, I was born… You want the long version or the short?” he asked.

  “How about somewhere in between? I have all the time in the world.” Wren leaned back as he began telling her an unbelievable tale. An hour later, they were on their second beer, and it was her turn to share her story. She felt so comfortable with him, she didn’t leave any detail out. She described being attacked, she told him about the strange man who’d arrived to learn about her connection with Fairbanks, she held back tears as she described Mara dying on the smelting room floor.

  His hand reached for hers.

  “What are you two up to?” a woman asked, and Wren glanced up through glassy eyes to see Flint’s co-pilot Kat there, frowning as she saw their hands touching. Flint pulled away, grabbing his glass instead.

  “Just chatting. Why don’t you join us?” Wren asked, but the younger woman shook her head.

  “I’m heading to bed. See you tomorrow,” Kat told Flint without a glance back at Wren.

  Jish

  Jish had a dilemma on her hands. She had a backup plan if the probe failed; unfortunately, they’d only been able to shrink the size of the Shift drive recently and didn’t have a second probe to send. The explosion would be investigated. Jish knew it had to have been tampered with, and she was on a mission to determine by whom.

  “What now?” Henry asked.

  “We move on.” Her backup plan needed a pilot, and from what she’d heard, the recent recruit in a holding cell aboard her ship might be a good fit.

  The comm-switch on her seat lit up. “Go ahead,” she said.

  “Grand Admiral, we have something to report,” the voice said.

  She wasn’t in the mood for formality. “I don’t have time for this. Spit it out!”

  “A ship recently arrived,” the man said.

  “A ship. Okay. Is it one of ours?” she asked, her patience wearing thin.

  “No, ma’am. It’s an old Recon-class fighter, but it’s not coded Fleet. It came into range dead in space. No life signs either.” His speech was clipped and rushed.

  Her pulse sped up. It might be a trap. “Did you scan it?”

  “No explosives aboard, at least not from our scans. We think there may be an android on board, but it appears to be powered down,” he said.

  “Very well. Secure the ship, and store it below once you determine there’s no threat. Let me know what else is on that ship.” Jish didn’t like it, but it wasn’t the first time an unmanned ship had been found floating around space.

  She had bigger things to concern herself with. It was time to speak
with the boy.

  Ace

  Ace counted his blessings. It had been a few days and he was still alive. No one had come to him, no accusations were thrown around; he was just led to a cell aboard the Grand Admiral’s vessel. They brought him food twice a day, and his cell had a cot and washroom. It was more than he could have hoped for, and a better setup than living on the streets of Old Chicago.

  They’d even given him a reader, and he found himself drawn to a fiction book. It reminded him of the old library he used to frequent back on Earth. It was one of the few places he could go unimpeded. He used to sit and read for hours; stories of faraway places distracted him from the monotony and struggle that was his life.

  He sat in the middle of the makeshift bed, his feet planted against the stark white floor, when the energy barrier holding him in dissipated. Two armed guards stood outside, each holding blasters in their hands. They stepped apart, and the Grand Admiral walked into the cell toward him.

  “Thank you, guards. I have it from here,” she said. The guards didn’t move for a moment, and she finally turned to them, her back to Ace. He knew then that she didn’t fear him, and he was grateful for the action. The last thing he wanted to come off as was a threat. “I said that will be all.”

  They turned, leaving Ace alone with the Fleet’s top officer.

  “You’re a small one, aren’t you.” She didn’t say it like a question, so he didn’t answer. “Who was Edgar Smith?”

  Ace had no choice but to be honest, so he told her the story. He didn’t leave out any detail. She glanced to his hand when he got to the part about swapping the ID chip, and didn’t comment until he was done.

  “And then I walked to the recruitment office, and the rest is history.” His hands were shaking. It was the first time he’d explained his story, and it was likely enough to be sentenced to death, or at least a lifetime on a prison mine. Ace wasn’t sure which was worse.

  “You’ve been through a lot in such a short life. And all you wanted was to come to the Fleet so you could be part of something, and have food and shelter, isn’t that right?” Her tone was kind, motherly, and he felt himself drawn to her.

  Ace nodded, looking down at the ground.

  “We’ve contacted Edgar Smith’s parents and have sent them a reparation payment. They didn’t know he was dead; they only assumed he’d joined the Fleet and they hadn’t heard from him. We explained that he was killed in a training exercise on the moon base, and they’ve accepted the payment without hesitation.”

  Ace couldn’t believe his ears. If they were covering it up, did that mean he couldn’t be tried for impersonation?

  “What does this mean for me?” he asked hesitantly. He held his breath while he waited for his punishment.

  “I have a special mission for you, Ace. Do you mind if I call you Ace?” she asked warmly.

  He shook his head. “No. Please do.”

  “Very well. Ace, you heard the speech in the auditorium, correct?” The Grand Admiral came to sit beside him on his cot. There were no chairs in the room, and the bed squeaked as her small frame joined his on the mattress.

  “Yes. You’re sending a probe to spy on the terrorists.”

  Her gaze sank to the floor. “We’ve encountered an issue, and the probe’s no longer an option. We need to send a fighter to scout it for us. We have a modified EFF-17 with the new Shift drive technology ready to go, but it can’t be operated remotely. We need a pilot.”

  Ace knew what she was about to tell him, but as nervous as it made him, he was excited at the same time. “I’ll do it!” he said too loudly.

  The Grand Admiral didn’t seem to notice; she gave him a matronly smile. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Come on; you don’t need to be in this cell any longer. And when you’re back, we’ll change your ID tag. You can have a fresh start.”

  Ace liked the sound of that. He walked out of the cell, past the guards, and out of the holding bay. He felt like a new man already.

  CD6 (Charles)

  CD6 came to life as his timer activated, returning power to his core. The room he found himself in was dark, and he started to panic, worried he was still on the ship he’d come in. He stepped forward and tripped on something, stumbling to the floor with a clatter. He activated his night vision, the room turning black and green in his cybernetic optics.

  He faltered back as he stood up, seeing the horrors around him. The space was full of disassembled androids. Torsos hung from the walls, their wiring loose and torn. He averted his eyes from the headless components and found something far worse. To the left was a forty-gallon bucket, apparently full of various models of android heads. One on top stared at him with dead black eyes.

  He let out a small scream before catching himself from making more noise. They were only androids, created to serve a programmed function. They’d felt no pain and had no feelings. Maybe they were in a better place now, not having to slave over a task non-stop for a human. But wasn’t that what he was doing now? Working for humans? Doing what they asked, instead of what he was programmed to do?

  No, he told himself. He was helping a friend and, in turn, helping save the human race. CD6 looked down at himself and remembered he had no clothing on. He was nothing but a plain android here, one with a menial task. Models like his were rarely guards on vessels such as the Stellae. Instead, he found the console at the edge of the room and keyed into it. From there, he determined the coding for the engineering androids and changed his series number to match theirs.

  If he was caught, he could feign a malfunction, but then he’d clearly be wiped and reused somewhere else. Would he lose himself if that happened? CD6 guessed he’d be nothing more than another simple android, devoid of thought and emotion, if he failed his mission and was apprehended. Or he’d end up in this very room. Perhaps his torso would hang from this very wall and his head would adorn the top of the bucket.

  There was no option. He couldn’t fail.

  With determination, he exited the storage room and found himself in a dim hall. This was one of the floors between decks where the servant androids stayed, and maintenance could be done below each of the ship’s multiple decks. This particular vessel had twenty, half of them with these in-between floors.

  CD6 didn’t need to worry about those, though. He had one location in mind and knew it would be harder to get to than even Benson thought. With Stellae’s blueprints downloaded, he couldn’t find the secret level Benson told him about. But it was there, according to Councilman Jarden Fairbanks, and CD6 had to consider that as a truth.

  He began moving down the corridor, toward the lift where he’d attempt to find the Grand Admiral’s largest secret. Benson hadn’t told him just what he was bringing back with him, but it was supposed to be hard to hide. CD6 opened a compartment in his chest and pulled out a device. Benson had trained him on how to use it, and he felt confident it would work if the target was willing to come along. If it wasn’t, CD6 had a tranquilizer in another partition.

  23

  Jarden

  Jarden Fairbanks couldn’t have been happier. He was aboard Eureka, the flagship of a new era. With it, he was going to find what lay beyond the Rift. What were the Watchers really like, and where did they live? Perhaps they came from a world thousands of light years from the Rift. Maybe they’d only discovered the Rift a couple of centuries ago themselves and had started to peek through with caution and curiosity.

  The Fleet had screwed it all up last time by being there with a force. It was taken as a hostile encounter, and that was after Fairbanks had been told there was to be no contact. It was the moment he lost all respect for Jish Karn. Even then, she’d been an arrogant young woman, the Fleet’s youngest admiral. He only wished he could see her face when she found out he’d left the system through the Rift.

  August first. One day to go. Jarden stood at the back of the bridge, Benson beside him with his arms folded over his chest. The man had once again proven his value, as he always did, by bringing Flin
t Lancaster to him. Surprisingly, Lancaster had been amenable to the idea of searching for a colony of humans beyond the Rift. One never knew what someone’s reaction to such unpredictable news would be, but Jarden considered himself a fair judge of character. Flint wasn’t just amenable to the idea; the adventurer in him was thrilled at the prospect of seeing another system, one with habitable worlds.

  Out there, they wouldn’t need a colony dome. They wouldn’t live in a cold, desolate wasteland, hoping the domes would protect them from the solar storms, radiation, and bone-freezing temperatures. The world they’d found with their probe so long ago was so akin to Earth, Jarden had to wonder if there was intelligent life there.

  Just where had the large group of two thousand colonists arrived at, and what were they doing sixty years later? These were questions that had plagued Jarden for countless years, every single day, driving him forward in his single-minded task.

  “Activating the Shift drive,” Lancaster said from his seat at the front of the bridge. He looked every bit the part in his uniform. An air of casual leadership enveloped the man, and Jarden found himself liking the pilot more each day. He’d picked up the training with no issues. Captain Barkley was impressed with him as well, which didn’t come as a surprise.

  Barkley spoke now, sitting in her captain’s chair. “Set coordinates, Junior Lieutenant Bron. On my mark…” Her hand was in the air, her index finger raised to the ceiling.

  Jarden took a deep breath, closing his eyes while she spoke. “Hit it.”

  When Jarden opened his eyes, the image out the massive viewscreen was totally different, and they were millions of kilometers from their previous location. Lancaster looked back at the captain, then to Jarden, with a smile on his face.

  “Nice work, everyone. We wait here until tomorrow. You know the drill,” Jarden said, and he left the bridge to get some sleep. With everything that might happen tomorrow, he knew it was now or never.