by G J Ogden
“I suggest nothing, Adjutant Lux,” she said with a severity that caused Lux’s head to bow lower, “but I rule out nothing, also. Now, find the source of the CoreNet anomaly and report your findings to me without delay.”
Lux bowed lower and then promptly left to rejoin the simulants working on the deeper analysis of the signal anomaly.
“And, Adjutant Lux,” Adra called out, after he had made it only a few paces away. Lux turned and stood to attention, looking up at his commander. “Careless mistakes will not be tolerated on this ship. Be sure not to make another.”
Lux nodded and then turned, leaving Provost Adra alone on the command platform, deep in thought and with a growing sense of foreboding.
TWENTY-FIVE
Commander Sarah Sonner sat in the mess hall, which was a new addition to the ship’s internal configuration courtesy of her army of repair drones, with an untouched cup of black coffee in front of her. She had listened to Taylor recount the events of his dream-like experience without a single interruption. When he had finished, she blew out a low whistle and then took a sip of the lukewarm coffee, causing her face to pucker.
“Damn it, Captain, you made my coffee go cold,” complained Sonner.
Taylor’s eyes widened, “Really, is that all you have to say?”
“No…” replied Sonner, huffily, “But I hate cold coffee and I’m always grouchy until I’ve had at least two cups. Preferably two hot cups.”
“I’m not sure I believe that you’re ever not grouchy,” Taylor hit back, “but I think we have more important matters to discuss than cold coffee, like what my dream or vision, or whatever the hell it was, actually means.”
Sonner got up, moved over to the recently added food station, tipped the cold coffee into the recycler, and then placed the cup into the beverage dispenser. She punched the code for a black triple-shot Americano and waited for it to pour out.
“You know, it’s a good job the Contingency base was stocked with enough food rations to feed a hundred and sixty for over three years,” she said, picking up the coffee and taking a sip. She sighed contentedly, turned to face Taylor and then leaned with her back on the counter, “It just means all the more coffee for me.”
“Sonner, I’m serious, stop messing around.”
“I’m not messing around, I’m thinking,” said Sonner, adopting a more thoughtful tone, “and coffee always helps me to think.”
Taylor watched her take another sip of the hot, intensely dark beverage, and he realized he could actually smell it. He had never been much of a fan of coffee, but the smell only served as a bitter reminder that he no longer had a need or even an urge to eat or drink, because he no longer felt hungry or thirsty. He’d not considered the soothing and comforting aspects of food, though, or how isolating it might be to no longer need regular meals, when socializing and dining often went hand-in-hand. It didn’t seem to matter right now, though, since the only other person he could socialize with was Sonner, and he could hardly avoid spending time in her company, whether he liked it or not.
“I think you can somehow travel through the Fabric,” said Sonner, jabbing her coffee cup towards Taylor.
“If you had been listening, you’d know I already suggested that…” said Taylor, petulantly.
“And I’m agreeing with you,” Sonner replied, with her usual prickliness. “I mean, it’s the only logical conclusion. You were travelling through space at super-luminal speeds, moving from one pre-defined point to another. You even said you saw something that looked like a super-luminal transceiver.”
“It was pretty far away from where I was, but I don’t know what else it could have been; they’re pretty distinctive,” said Taylor, agreeing with Sonner’s assessment. Then he had a thought, “But what about when I appeared on the Hedalt ship? There wasn’t a transceiver nearby, not that I saw, anyway.”
“Sure there was,” said Sonner, undeterred by Taylor’s challenge. “There would have been a miniature one on the ship itself, communicating with the CoreNet, same as this ship. Only we ripped ours out and installed it onto the Nimrod we crashed on the planet, of course.”
Taylor chewed this idea over for a few seconds. “I suppose that would explain why I couldn’t get through the door the first time, when I was still on the base,” he said, stroking his chin and half-expecting to feel stubble. “The CoreNet signal wasn’t able to penetrate inside the lava tube; the volcanic rock acted like a shield. But out here, the CoreNet signal is all-pervading, and the ship’s transceiver is still intact on the planet’s surface too.”
Sonner paused mid-slurp and pulled the cup away from her mouth. “What do you mean the first time?”
Taylor winced; his tiny little slip had tipped off Sonner to the fact he’d been hiding something from her. Damn this simulant body; the least it could do is give me a better poker face.
“I didn’t tell you before because…” he paused, trying to work out how to put it.
“Because what?” said Sonner, looking and sounding offended.
“Because I wasn’t sure if I could trust you at the time,” Taylor blurted out. “Look, this has all happened pretty fast, and it’s a lot to take in.” Then he held up his plastic-looking hands and waved them at her, “And, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve had other things weighing on my mind too.”
Sonner scowled and took another gulp of coffee. “Fair enough, Captain,” she said, with surprising coolness, considering how affronted she had been only moments earlier. “I guess you had no reason to trust me. But, bear in mind that I trusted you, despite what you were, and despite the fact you and your cronies were trying to kill me too.”
Taylor hadn’t considered this aspect. To Sonner, he must have seemed more terrifying than the monster-like creature the Hedalt had programmed his lab-grown brain to see, in place of a human woman. At least Taylor now saw Sonner for what she really was; Sonner still saw the simulant body that had been sent to hunt and destroy any surviving humans. To Sonner, he still looked like a monster.
“Point taken, Commander. I guess I’ve been pretty self-absorbed.”
Sonner laughed. “I don’t blame you, Captain. But, from now on, no more secrets, agreed?”
Taylor nodded. “Agreed, Commander.”
“So, you were saying about this first time?”
Taylor explained about how he’d first appeared in the ethereal corridor in space after falling from the stack of containers, and how at the time he couldn’t get though the starlight door. But then how once they were outside the lava tube and exposed to the signals that traversed the Fabric, the door appeared to open and allow him through.
“And there’s another thing…” said Taylor, hesitant to add the detail about Satomi, but unwilling to immediately break his promise to not keep secrets.
Sonner’s right eyebrow lifted slightly. “Go on…”
“I talked with Satomi. Satomi Rose, from my crew,” said Taylor, realizing how fanciful what he’d just said sounded when spoken out loud.
Sonner chewed the inside of her mouth, holding her coffee cup just in front of her chin. The memory of shooting the Satomi simulant was still fresh in her mind. “Presumably, you don’t mean the actual Satomi from your crew, because…”
“No, not her,” Taylor was quick to interrupt, before Sonner could say, ‘because she’s dead’ or words to that effect. He didn’t want reminding of that fact, or that it was Sonner that had shot her. Though he now realized that his sadness and angst over Satomi’s death had diminished enormously knowing that she was still out there, in one form or another. He knew that the Satomi he’d spoken with wasn’t the same, but in many ways she was, and the more he thought about it, the less this mattered to him. “It was a different Satomi,” clarified Taylor. “I don’t know where she was, because I could only hear her, not see her, but she sounded different.”
“Different how?”
“Different like me. Like she was awake, or at least more self-aware.”
Sonner w
rinkled her nose and sniffed, and then turned back to the beverage dispenser to top up her cup with another two shots.
“Go easy with that stuff, or that sleep you just had will be your last for a week.” Taylor had made the comment jovially, with the intention of lightning the mood, which had suddenly become tense, but Sonner did not oblige.
“Look, Captain, I know that finding your crew is important,” Sonner said, turning back to face Taylor, freshly topped-up coffee cup steaming in her hands, “but you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“I’m not naïve, I know there are no guarantees of finding her,” Taylor replied, unwilling to entertain a reality check; he was on a high and wanted to ride it for as long as possible.
Sonner sipped the coffee and then sighed, “It could just have been a dream, or your imagination. You could just have seen and heard what you wanted to see and hear.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Well, you wouldn’t, would you?” said Sonner, who had run out of patience with the tactful approach. “You’ve just lost everything, and you’ll do anything to cling on to a part of that past. I understand you wanting to grasp hold of something that connects you back to them, but be careful you don’t hinge all your hopes on it. Because you may never find them.”
“Damn it, Sonner, were you always such a bundle of joy?” said Taylor, stalwartly refusing to let Sonner drag him down.
“I’m just being real, is all.”
“Well, my definition of reality has been redefined of late, in case you hadn’t noticed,” countered Taylor. “So I’m choosing to believe they’re out there – that she’s out there – and that’s that.”
Sonner raised the cup to her lips and then drained the contents, before letting out a contented sigh. “As you wish, Captain.” Then her expression seemed to brighten. “Besides, if what you’re saying is true then we can use it to our advantage. It could help us stay ahead of the Hedalt. It can help us locate the bases and plan the jumps to avoid heavily guarded areas.”
Once again, Taylor couldn’t argue with Sonner’s logic. There was no doubt that it could be a great tactical advantage – but that wasn’t the application of this ability that he was most interested in exploiting. “And it also means that we can locate the Hunter ships and find my crew,” Taylor added, plainly.
Sonner observed Taylor for a few seconds, noting how the artificial muscles in his face had relaxed at the mention of finding his crew, exactly as they would have done if he was still human.
“I agreed to help find and wake up your crew, Captain, and I’ll be true to my word.”
“But…” Taylor added, before Sonner had a chance to say it. This appeared to irritate her.
“But, the mission has to come first. There’s no point saving your crew if we can’t put the Contingency into action and take the fight back to the Hedalt.”
Taylor knew the mission had to be the priority, but he still had to be sure that Sonner would honor her word, as she claimed.
“So long as you promise me,” Taylor said, with a chilling seriousness that could have frozen the coffee in Sonner’s cup, had she not already drunk it. “Promise on your life, your honor, mother, cat, dog, whatever, I don’t care. But as long as you promise me, I’ll agree.”
Sonner thought about this for a moment. “Okay, Captain Taylor Ray, I promise on the life of my brother, James Sonner, that I will help to rescue your crew, if they’re out there.”
This took Taylor by surprise; he wasn’t expecting to extract some personal information from her; in fact, he’d never even considered asking about her personal life. Had she been married? Children? The thought of what she might have already lost was disquieting and he realized how selfish he’d been.
“I’m sorry, Commander, I hadn’t even thought to ask if you had family.”
Sonner sucked her bottom lip, mulling over how much to reveal and which details to elaborate on, and then said, “He was stationed on one of the other Contingency bases. I cashed in all my favors to get him there.” Then her lips pressed more tightly together, before adding, “He could be dead. For all I know, he probably is. But, until I know for sure, that’s the most solemn vow you’ll get from me.”
“In that case I accept,” said Taylor. He didn’t want to push her to reveal anything further; clearly even revealing this much had been tough.
Sonner nodded and smiled. “At some point, I’ll need to take a look at your head…” Taylor recoiled. “Still attached to your neck, of course…” Sonner added quickly, “in order to figure out what happened to wake you up. If I can figure that out then perhaps I can devise a way to wake up the others too.”
“Thank you, Commander,” said Taylor, and there was genuine warmth in his simulated voice that made Sonner seem to glow.
“But, first, I have to go and make your bed, literally, before we jump out into the unknown.”
Sonner placed the coffee cup down on the counter and started towards the door, which she had actually had widened into an open archway. But before she’d made it all the way through, Taylor called out, “Don’t forget the little chocolate on my pillow this time!”
“Screw you, Captain…” came the playful reply as Sonner disappeared though the exit, boots thudding down the corridor away from the bridge.
TWENTY-SIX
Taylor waited in the mess hall until Sonner’s footsteps had faded completely and then got up and made his way to the bridge. Their course was already set, but he still wanted to double-check the computations and get ready for their first blind jump, back to the closest super-luminal transceiver. From there, they would traverse half-way across the galaxy, in search of the last remnants of human civilization; if any remained alive. As he entered the bridge he paused for a moment, glancing at the three empty stations, and picturing Satomi, Casey and Blake at work. The bridge seemed so cold and cheerless without them, and also a lot bigger.
He slid down into the pilot’s chair and verified the jump settings, before running the numbers again, just to be sure, since it was usually Casey that did this. But everything checked out; they were ready. Ready? Taylor thought. Ready for what? One ship and two crew against a galaxy full of Hedalt, all bent on our destruction. The more he thought about it, the more it became apparent how hilariously not ready they really were. But, perhaps in some strange way this gave them an advantage. An armada was easier to spot, easier to fight; one little ship was like a drop of ink in an ocean. But, despite all that had happened, and regardless of the hardships they yet faced, Taylor was determined to go forward, and embrace his new existence.
“We know what we are, but know not what we may be…” Taylor spoke out loud, doing his best to sound theatrical. He then instinctively looked over to the TacSpec console, expecting Blake to complain about him quoting Dickens or Hemingway or King, or whichever incorrect author he would attribute the quote to in an effort to bait Satomi into responding; which, of course, she always did.
His thoughts dwelled on them again. Their four years together, or however long it had actually been in real terms, had connected them profoundly, in a uniquely human way. It was true that the Hedalt could shape their perception of the world, but Taylor had to believe that authentic human connection was something that exceeded their power of influence. The experiences and memories they had all shared may not have all been real, in a physical sense, but they were still real to him. The bonds they had formed were true. He closed his eyes and spoke their names out loud.
“Blake Meade. Casey Valera. Satomi Rose. I promise I will find you again. I promise that I will find you and that I will wake you all. I’ll give you a chance to see what I see, and to be the people you were meant to be.”
He opened his eyes and then picked up his datapad, which was resting on the console in front of him. He logged into his personal account and then stopped. No, that person isn’t me, not anymore. He logged out again and created a new account under the name ‘Taylor Ray – Awake’. He moved to the journal section and
opened a blank page. For some time he simply sat back in the pilot’s chair and stared out of the viewport at the millions of stars in front of him, letting his mind roam freely, the same as Casey had often done. Then he peered down at the datapad and began his entry.
Personal Journal – Entry #1
My name is Taylor Ray and I am awake. I don't know yet who I really am. The real Captain Taylor Ray died over three hundred years ago, so I know I’m not him, but I also know that a part of me is. Which part, I can’t be certain, but it no longer matters. I am not him. I am somebody new.
What I do know for certain is that the only things that were ever real to me were my crew. My family. I know they are still out there somewhere. They don't know who they are yet either, because they are not awake, and they sure as hell don't know me. Not the new me. But I'm going to find them, and I'm going to free them. I’m going to wake them up to the reality I now know. That is my mission, for as long as this simulant body can carry me. And then, perhaps one day, when the Hedalt have been routed and the victory won, we can all return to Earth and together we can see it for the first time. As a family. Maybe that apartment overlooking the Colombia river is still there, who knows? But if it’s not, we’ll build it again.
Above all, I want Satomi to see what I see. It’s beautiful and terrifying, but it’s real. One day we’ll gaze upon the galaxy of stars together, with newborn eyes and a head full of dreams.
The end.
To Be Continued…
The Contingency War Series continues in book two, The Way Station Gambit.
The Way Station Gambit: Read on Kindle
ALL THE BOOKS IN THE SERIES:
- The Contingency
- The Way Station Gambit
- Rise of Nimrod Fleet
- Earth's Last War
Also By This Author
If you enjoyed this book, please consider reading The Planetsider Trilogy, also by G J Ogden, available from Amazon and free to read for Kindle Unlimited subscribers.
