Apocalypse Omega

by Marc Landau

  Okay, it might be a good time to have the discussion with Kat about what we should do. A moment of calm. They were few and far between. We might have only a few minutes before our next death threat emerged. My heart had barely gotten back to its normal rate from the base-jump-intimate-fantasy the bot-alien had tried seducing us with.

  There was a vid long ago, back when we had something called movies. Ha! The bot-alien thinks we’re primitive now? I’d hate to see what it would say if it time traveled back to when we had no indoor plumbing and rode horses. Or when we lived in caves and hunted with sharpened sticks.

  Then again, it might not even notice the difference. To us going from living in caves to hyper-jumping spaceships was evolution, but for these things, it might be nothing to take note of.

  “Beep. Until you can bend time and travel into dimension twelve or turn asparagus into a planet, you are a one-celled organism, as far as we’re concerned.”

  Focus.

  Right. The movie. It was about people living in a dream reality created by aliens who used the humans as batteries to power their machines. The humans didn’t even know. They were living in these pods with wires stuck into their necks. It was like a science-fiction version of a Djinn.

  The comatose humans believed they were working, playing, getting married, having kids. Living normal lives. But they were all asleep and having the life sucked out them by aliens. A few of the humans figured it out, and woke up and fought the aliens.

  Neo.

  The interesting thing was that some of the humans who woke up were like, “What? This is reality? This burned-out planet Earth with machines trying to kill me? This sucks. I want to go back into the dream.” And other humans were like, “We gotta fight the power and take these things down. Freedom is more important than living in a beautiful dream prison. Even if reality sucks, it’s better than the best dream.”

  Which kind of person was I?

  Chapter Fifteen

  The dream life was tempting. Not to mention technically we’d be saving the universe by putting the Ultra back on its throne, so it could defeat the Krin. Or at least protect the universe from them.

  That’s if I even believed the whole Krin story. For all I knew, once the Ultra was back on its throne, these aliens were the ones who were going to destroy the galaxy, and the Krin were actually the good guys trying to stop that from happening.

  It made vid-sense. In all the vids, it was the little guy fighting the all-powerful overlords. And the Krin sounded like the little guy compared to these planet-creating, black-hole-killing, vampire super-aliens. Believing they were the victims was a tough nut to swallow.

  “Kat, do you get any sense about whether that whole story about the Krin is true?”

  She closed her eyes and focused, then a few moments later opened them and shrugged.

  “Not sure.”

  “Great. So it’s possible these are actually the bad guys. We’d be helping them by staying here, and wouldn’t actually be saving the universe. We’d be destroying it.”

  “We are not destroying anything,” the bot-alien interrupted.

  “Stay out of this, Farmy. Kat and I are trying to figure out what to do here.”

  “You will consent.”

  I turned to Kat. “Kind of pushy for a ‘good guy,’ don’t you think?”

  “Good point,” she replied.

  “Blip! Beep! We are good guys! Our edict is to protect and balance the universe!”

  “Why you getting so angry, Farmy?” I prodded.

  “Because you are a blip #*@@(!@ bleep!”

  “You don’t sound like a good guy to me.”

  I was doing all I could to press the thing. Make it snap. Maybe give up some info to help us figure out what the truth was. I couldn’t even talk in private to Kat. Even if she sent the bot-alien away, she still had the Ultra living inside her, and it could hear everything I said and thought and felt. She had a full-time bugging device living inside her. The only way to get info was to hope one of them would slip up. And pushing the bot-alien over the edge was the only thing I could think of.

  The walrus was glowing red and shooting proverbial steam from its ear holes. For whatever reason, I knew how to get under its skin. Well, I knew the reason. It was because it was melded with the walrus. And the walrus and I had a long history of poking, prodding, and driving one another crazy. I’m sure the alien that had possessed the bot wasn’t expecting to have to deal with an arrogant robot who was definitely fighting back from within.

  Also why wasn’t the Ultra sending Kat clear signals? Why did we even need the bot-alien translator? Was it hiding something? Or was human-alien translation really the problem?

  There was no way to tell but I had to give the Ultra the benefit of the doubt, because so far it had done nothing to harm us. In fact it had protected us on several occasions. A truly evil being would’ve ripped Kat out without a second thought.

  Unless ripping her out would harm it. Maybe that’s why it’s waiting for her to die, the little voice said.

  Great. Another contradictory theory that also made sense. Okay, so I was back to having no idea whether the Ultra was a good guy or a bad guy. Or if the Krin were saviors or destroyers.

  Ugh. I needed a nap.

  For the moment, I’d assume the story about the Krin was true. The bigger problem was that if we chose to leave, where would we go? Would the Ultra even let Kat come with me back to the ship? And once we got there, what would we do?

  There were a few months of rations left, and the life support systems had been fixed by the bot, but what was the point of spending six months on the ship, then being forced back to the planet because we ran out of food? And even if the sphere people agreed to send food up, then we’d just be prisoners on the ship until the day we died.

  “So do you think we should go?” I asked.

  “Where? Back to the ship? We’d just be stuck there. The ship's not equipped for hyper-jumps, and even if it was, we have no clue in hellvian where we are or where to jump to.”

  As usual, Kat had summed up my ranting thoughts in a couple of sentences.

  “Do you trust these guys and their whole Krin story?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure it even matters. It’s not like we can do anything about it either way.”

  “Then why does the bot-alien keep asking for consent, like we have to agree to the terms like a damn military contract?” Maybe it was. For all I knew, by consenting to stay on the planet, we were agreeing to be conscripted into their sphere-ball army.

  Kat turned to the bot-alien. “Hey, Farmy. Why do we have to consent to stay?”

  It buzzed and hummed. “Once you consent, your atoms are bound to the universal timeline.”

  What the frak was it saying? I wished the robot part of the alien was doing a better job translating. As bad as it was, it was still better than Kat’s random blank answers and shrugs.

  “What if we change our minds and leave?” she asked.

  It blipped and beeped. It sounded confused by the question. Like, how could that be possible?

  “It is not possible.”

  “What do you mean? People change their minds all the time,” she said.

  “Once consent is decreed, the timeline adjusts, and there is no way to undo that. You become bound with our people. Intertwined. A part of us.”

  “If we agree to stay on the planet, we become part of you?” I asked.

  “Correct,” it replied with a tone of dismay.

  That was a strike against staying. No way I wanted to be a part of the alien inside the walrus and his buddies. All they’d done was cause me trouble. On the plus side, I was sure it felt the same way about me. I’m sure it was disappointed I was part of the bargain. No way that thing wanted me to consent. It wanted me to combust and disappear. If not for Kat-Ultra, I’d be long gone. That was another pro for the Ultra. It wouldn’t let its buddies kill me.

  “Kat, can you get a sense of what the Ultra thinks about us
leaving? I mean not consenting.”

  Again she closed her eyes and concentrated. A few moments later, she put up her hand in the “wait a second” gesture, even though I hadn’t interrupted.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “Nothing clear, but it doesn’t seem to be pushing me one way or the other.”

  That could be decent news. The Ultra wasn’t reacting so maybe either choice was okay. Or maybe it didn’t understand what Kat was asking.

  I decided not to bother asking the Ultra any more direct questions. At least not until they’d figured out how to chat more clearly. Their communication had been changing the longer they stayed together, so my hope was that eventually the static would clear up.

  “Okay, so let’s review. Supposedly we have free choice to not consent and leave, but there’s nowhere to go except the ship, which will run out of food in a few months, and we either die or come back to the planet.”

  “Sounds about right,” Kat said. “And this place has awesome waterfalls, skiing, hiking, base jumping. Not to mention my dream home, and Poka’s dream playroom. All the ship has is a tiny garden.”

  “Hey, I love that garden,” I said, but she was right. What was the point in even debating it? The planet was a billion times better than the shatty auxiliary military Outpost.

  “I guess we should stay,” I said. But my heart wasn’t in it. Something just didn’t sit right.

  “You sure?” she asked.

  “No. Are you?”

  “No. But what choice do we have?”

  The bot-alien beeped with glee. “Do you consent?”

  Most likely, in time I’d come to love being here with Kat and the two Pokas, but something about hearing the words out loud changed my mind. I wasn’t signing any contract with an alien species to live out the remainder of my life on this planet. I was going to hold onto the one shred of freedom I still had. The freedom to change my mind and tell the bot to go screw itself.

  “I’m not consenting.”

  “It doesn’t matter what the primitive does. Only the Ultra.” It turned to Kat, “Do you consent, Ultra?” It waited for her reply with eager anticipation.

  “Sorry, Farmy. We decided not to stay.”

  “Please, Ultra, I beg you to consent. We must plan for the probabilities.”

  “Sorry, Farmy. You’re going to have to plan without consent.”

  The bot made disgruntled beeps, but didn’t argue any further. “Yes, Ultra. As you require.”

  I turned to Kat. “As much as I hate to say it, I’m relieved that’s over. You sure it’s okay if we go?”

  She nodded and smiled warmly.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I really hate to admit it, but this place is fraking beautiful. And I can’t imagine spending the rest of my days with anyone but you.”

  Kat smiled warmly and took my hand, then fell to ground, her body convulsing and seizing.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I fell to my knees and held her in my arms. I had no idea what the hellvian to do. My sparse military med training was mostly about how to treat light flesh wounds and plasma burns. They never taught us how to deal with anything like this. That was for the medics.

  I remembered something about people swallowing their tongues, so I quickly found a stick and put it in her mouth. All I could do was wait it out and try to stop her from hurting herself.

  “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” I whispered into her ear, hoping it might calm her some.

  The seizure lasted for longer than I thought it was supposed to. I had no idea how long they were supposed to last but this was going on for a long time. Too long.

  “Bot. You have medi-protocols don’t you?”

  “I am not bot,” it replied.

  “I don’t care who the frak you are. Access your damn database and figure out what to do about this. If it goes on too long, she could get brain damage. Do you want that? You want a brain-damaged Ultra?”

  “The Ultra does not have anything as primitive as a human brain,” it snorted.

  “Kat does. And she’s connected to your leader.”

  The bot-alien beeped then it started making giggling sounds again. I almost jumped up and punched it in the face appendage. Not that it would’ve done any good. The last time I attacked the thing, it paralyzed me in seconds. But rage doesn’t care about reality or logic. Rage is stupid and gets you into trouble.

  “What’s so fraking funny? You fraking bucket of alien snot!”

  It giggled some more, then settled itself down. “Neither the Ultra nor the primitive is in any danger.”

  “They're not in danger? Are you crazy? Do you see what I’m seeing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Kat’s having a seizure, and if it continues much longer, she’s going to get serious brain damage.”

  “Incorrect.”

  “Incorrect? What the frak are you talking about?”

  The bot rolled its eye slits, frustrated that it had to explain such simple things to such a primitive being.

  “Cut the snarky shat and just tell me!”

  “Beep. They are weaving.”

  “Weaving? What?”

  It beeped a few times, which I could tell roughly translated to, “Ugh, you primitive piece of shat, why do I have to explain every little thing to you?”

  “They are communicating with one another,” it said.

  “That’s communication?”

  “Correct.”

  “You sure?”

  The bot rolled its eye slits again. “Correct.”

  “It’s not dangerous?”

  “Corrrrreeect.”

  “No need for sarcasm.”

  “That wasn’t sarcasm. My system glitched momentarily.”

  “Sure it did. So they’re talking to each other?”

  The walrus nodded. “Beep.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “Blip. I have no idea.”

  “How long before she wakes up?”

  “No idea.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kat’s eyes POPPED wide open and she sat up like a springboard gasping for air.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “She is unharmed in any way,” the bot replied.

  “Shut up. I wasn’t asking you,” I snapped, then turned back to Kat. “You okay?”

  She gently nodded “yes” and checked her surroundings like she’d just woken from a nightmare. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. One second you were holding my hand, the next you were flopping around on the ground.”

  “You were weaving,” the bot-alien said.

  “Weaving?”

  The bot rolled its eyes again at the notion that it was going to have to explain it all over to yet another primitive. I cut in before it could begin its belittling diatribe.

  “You were talking to the Ultra,” I said.

  “The Ultra was talking to you,” the bot corrected.

  Kat nodded gently, as if the notion made sense to her. “Yeah. I remember now.”

  Suddenly the bot began bouncing excitedly like a kid on a Haxflux morning. “Blip. The Ultra spoke through the conduit! Beep. What did the Ultra say? Was it a word of the future? Was it a plan for the people?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was a feeling.”

  “A feeling?” The bot beeped in confusion. “What is a feeling?”

  “There’s no time to explain it. Check the walrus’s database.”

  The bot-alien made some processing sounds. “It is defined as one of the basic physical senses, of which the skin contains the chief organs and of which the sensations of touch and temperature are characteristic.”

  “No, not that.”

  It made more processing nosies. “…An emotional state or reaction.”

  “Sort of that.”

  “What is an emotional state?”

  “Dude, can you fraking shut it?”

  “Insolent primitive. Do not speak to me that way, or I will…


  “It’s okay, Farmy. Take it down a notch,” Kat said.

  “What does ‘take it down a notch’ mean, Ultra?”

  “This thing’s acting more and more like the walrus,” I said.

  “It means do not get agitated by the primitive, and do not argue with it. And do not harm it in any way. Do you understand that?”

  The bot-alien hung its head low. “Yes, Ultra.”

  “Now, it’s customary to apologize to Wil for overreacting and threatening him.”

  “What is apologize?”

  “Check your database.” I said with an air of smugness. I couldn’t wait to see its reaction when it learned what apologize meant.

  It made processing noises then its mouth hole opened so wide in stunned shock that it looked like it was going to swallow the planet. “You want me to—word defined as— make an admission of error or discourtesy, accompanied by an expression of regret?”

  “That’s correct,” Kat said.

  “I will not! I made no such error. I do not regret it.”

  Kat gave the bot-alien a raised eyebrow. “…Farmy?”

  “Fine, Ultra.” The bot-alien sulked then turned to me. “I am sorry, primitive organism.”

  “No problem,” I replied. I should’ve taken the time to revel in its misery at having to apologize but it wasn’t the time to be petty. I’d do that later when we got out of this mess. “Kat, can we get back to what the Ultra told you?”

  She closed her eyes and concentrated again. “It’s just a feeling.”

  “No words or images? These things like sending hallucinations.”

  “Nope.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Okay, well, what was the feeling? Was it good or bad?”

  “Bad. Definitely bad.”

  “That’s something. Do you know what it was about? Bad if we stay? Bad if we go? Or just bad in general?”

  “I’m not sure. Hellvian, this is so frustrating.”

  “Just take a second and relax.”

  She nodded and took another few deep breaths.

  “Anything?”

  She put her hand up and I backed off.