by G J Ogden
“Taylor, I’m here!” he heard Satomi call out and he tried to focus, but the room continued to spin, as if the effect of one too many bourbons had just kicked in. Then he felt hands on his shoulders and heard the voice again, louder than before, “Taylor!” Suddenly Satomi was in front of him. He looked at her hands, resting on the sides of his shoulders and wondered how she could be touching him. But it wasn’t the same as the physical press of solid matter; it was more like the electrical tingle of pure energy.
“I’m here, I’m okay,” said Taylor, as Satomi’s hands fell to her sides. With his head no longer spinning he could now see the room clearly. It was a large, empty hall with stasis pods lining the wall to either side. Satomi was standing several meters from the back wall, in front of another row of pods, and something else. He cocked his head to the side to look past Satomi and saw a tall figure in the unmistakable black armor of a Hedalt soldier.
Adra! Taylor thought, and then he called out, “Satomi, we have to go, that soldier...”
“That isn’t who you think it is,” Satomi interrupted, “but she’s just as dangerous.”
“We have to get out of here!” Taylor said, forgetting that he wasn’t really in the room. The illusion of his body inside the Fabric and CoreNet was so real it was easy to forget that he only existed as thought and energy.
“She can’t see or hear you, Taylor!” said Satomi, trying to reassure him, “I just need you to listen. It won’t be long before they realize you’re here. We may only have a minute, maybe less!”
Taylor nodded and tried to control his emotions, though the sight of the soldier was impossible to ignore. Satomi took Taylor’s hand and instantly they were transported across the large room and into an office or small workshop of some kind.
“Look,” said Satomi, pointing to a vast computer console screen that must have been a quarter the size of the entire viewport on the Contingency One, “This is where I am. Where you are now.”
Taylor looked at the screen, which showed a roughly spherical object, possibly a space station, along with data readouts spread across twenty or more different areas of the screen. “Where, Satomi, what am I looking at?” he asked, panic causing his voice to rise half an octave.
Satomi took his hand again, which tingled like a vibrating tuning fork, and drew it towards the screen. “Here, look at the coordinates,” Satomi said, “you’ll have to remember them. Can you do that? I know that your memory for numbers hasn’t always be great.” Then she smiled, “Your head was always too full of quotes from old books.”
Taylor smiled too; it was a unexpected moment that reminded him that Satomi was real – that she still knew him. He read the coordinates and began to repeat them over and over in his head. “How far is it?” Taylor asked, remembering that the Contingency One’s jump range was limited, and that even with its upgraded computers the calculation speed was still sluggish.
“It’s far, but you don’t have to jump the threads to get here,” said Satomi, and then she extended her arms and stretched them out towards the space around them, “This is the Fabric, Taylor. This is the Nexus. This is where the Fabric begins and ends. If you jump to those co-ordinates from any super-luminal node, there’s a thread that always ends here. This is where they made us, Taylor, and to end the war this is where you must come.”
“I’ll always come for you, Satomi, I told you that,” said Taylor, reaching for her and again feeling the static field repel their virtual forms.
“No, Taylor, not for me,” said Satomi. “The Nexus controls every simulant in the galaxy. If you disable the Nexus, all of the simulants will cease to function. Billions of simulants, Taylor. Their space stations, mines, outposts and almost all of their starships will be crippled in an instant. They can’t function without simulants. It’s their strength, but also their Achilles heel.”
“But if I disable the Nexus with you still inside?” said Taylor, unable to think of anything but rescuing Satomi, “Before, I wake you?”
“Then I’ll cease to function too,” said Satomi, “but you can’t think about that, Taylor.”
“Damn it, Satomi, if I can’t save the one person I care most about then why the hell am I fighting at all?”
“You know why, Taylor,” said Satomi, softly. “You can’t place me above the survival of the human race. And if it came down to it, you know you wouldn’t.”
Taylor was furious, and the physical feeling of rage was impossible to ignore, “No, not this time. I don’t care if I have to tear this Nexus apart with my bare hands, I won’t leave it without you. I’d rather blow the damn thing to hell with you and me inside it!”
“How... romantic,” said Satomi, and the darkly humorous response made them both laugh out loud, despite the nervous intensity of the situation.
But then Taylor started to feel pain building inside his temples. He winced and pressed his fingers to the source of the pain.
Satomi’s voice hardened. “She’s found you... you have to leave, now!”
Taylor stumbled back and tried to fight the pain, but it was hopeless, “How do I get inside?” he stammered, realizing he had no idea how he could possibly disable the Nexus.
“Leave that to me, Taylor,” said Satomi, “just get here, I’ll do the rest.”
Taylor nodded, but this just made the pain inside his head even worse. Satomi reached up and held his head in her hands, helping to numb the pain. “Destroy the Nexus, Taylor. And if you can, find me too. Find me, Taylor...”
Then the touch of Satomi’s hands was gone and Taylor was flying, out through the walls of the Nexus and into space. He briefly caught sight of the planet below; an ugly, gray world that was blanketed in a surface-wide industrialized city. And then he was moving again, bouncing through the nodes. The pain continued to grow and Taylor cried out, trying to release some of the pressure, but it was like a vice was slowly and relentlessly tightening around his skull. Then he was inside the deep space corridor with the starlight door mere meters in front of him. He scrambled towards it but fell prone as the pain spread to every part of his body. It felt like he was being crushed and torn apart at the same time. He inched forward, but soon he could no longer move his feet or hands, and the immobility was spreading along his body, towards his core. Eventually he was within centimeters of the threshold, but he could not move any further. He yelled out, “James!... James, help!” but there was no answer. Putting everything he had left into one last burst, he managed to lurch forward just far enough that the tips of his fingers passed over the glowing barrier between the Fabric and the safe space beyond. And then the pain swallowed him whole and he passed into nothingness.
NINE
Vika felt a strange sensation creep across her skin, as if she’d been exposed to a static charge. She shivered and patted down the affected areas, but then the sensation quickly dissipated, leaving her feeling puzzled and disquieted. She didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, as a low pulsing alert sounded from the other end of the chamber. This drew her attention away from the strange occurrence and also gave her an excuse to finally find out what Adra had been doing. She quickly covered the length of the room, leaving the stasis pods containing the four prototype high-functioning simulants behind, and entered the suite of offices without knocking or otherwise requesting entry.
“I thought I told you not to disturb me?” complained Adra, as Vika entered the room.
“Apologies, Vice Provost, but I heard what sounded like an alert and felt it prudent to investigate,” said Vika, unperturbed by Adra’s passive-aggressive stance. She did not fear Adra, and after more than five years serving High Provost Kagan, she was comfortable standing her ground in the company of those who would intimidate others of her age and rank.
“It is none of your concern,” Adra replied, continuing to focus on the console screens. “Return to the ship and prepare for launch.”
Vika was far enough inside the office that she could see the information spread across the wall of screens
to the rear, and it did not take her long to work out what had caused the alert. “You have already completed work on the new signal trace program,” she said, the surprise evident in her voice. She quickly scanned the other screens, “And there has been another incursion. You appear to have traced the source already.”
Adra turned and peered at Vika through narrowed eyes, “How do you know this?”
“I was a member of the scientific division, before participating in the trials to compete for the position of Adjutant to the High Provost,” said Vika. “I focused mainly on starship design, but I am also familiar with your earlier work on human-simulant hybrids.”
Adra would have normally reviewed the record of her adjutant in detail, but events since the tribunal had moved quickly, and she had neglected to study Vika’s file. That she had transitioned from a scientific discipline to Warfare Command, as Adra had done, was worthy of respect, but that she had also succeeded in the trials to become Adjutant to the High Provost made the achievement doubly impressive. But she also pitied Vika for allowing her emotions and desire for vengeance to interfere with her career. She could have become one of the youngest provosts in history. Now, like Adra, the best she could hope for was to attain the rank of vice provost and to remain always just outside the inner circle of influence. For someone of her abilities and youth, to be cursed with such a mediocre existence was a waste, but also perhaps a just reward for her meddling.
“You are correct, Adjutant Vika,” said Adra, curious to learn how Vika would react once she realized what her next move would be. “I had already completed work on the detailed signal trace while awaiting the start of the tribunal.” Vika wondered why she had not mentioned this to High Provost Kagan at the time, but knew better than to openly question Adra’s judgment. “And, as I knew it would, the rogue simulant has entered the Fabric once again.”
“You have its precise location?”
“I do,” Adra replied, though she chose to omit the detail that the location was a star system she was already familiar with, because she had been there before. The trace had pinpointed the location as the second moon of the fourth planet of the system she had visited after first learning of the anomaly. It was where a Hunter Corvette had gone missing, supposedly crashed on the surface. But it seemed the humans had been more cunning than she’d given them credit for. That she had come so close to discovering their base so long ago irked her, and she did not want Vika to be aware of this failure. But, she vowed she would not fail again. “The purge did not have time to complete, but it is proof enough that the new trace works. Should it attempt to enter the Fabric again, I will be able to locate and eradicate it swiftly.”
“This news is significant,” replied Vika, feeling that perhaps such a success might go some way to restoring their fortunes with Kagan. “At your order, I shall communicate this discovery to Warfare Command.”
“No,” replied Adra firmly, “you will not communicate anything of this to Warfare Command or the High Provost directly. Return to the ship and begin calculations. We jump to the system at once.”
Vika held her ground, “High Provost Kagan expressly ordered that any discovery be reported to him without delay.”
“High Provost Kagan is no longer your concern, Adjutant Vika,” sneered Adra. “You will do as I command. And you will do it now.”
Vika still did not flinch. She was aware of the consequences of disobeying a command from a direct superior, but she had also heard Kagan’s express command that he be informed without delay. Perhaps as a full provost, Adra would be permitted some leeway to go beyond her orders – leeway that she had vastly exceeded in the past – but as Vice Provost she had no such flexibility. To communicate with Warfare Command behind Adra’s back would be seen as dishonorable, but she could still refuse the command. It was a risk, as there was no guarantee that the Warfare Council would consider her defiance justified. And if they did not, Vika would be the next to face Tribunal, and likely execution. Vika made her choice. She would not blindly follow Adra as her brother had done, at the cost of his life.
“No, Vice Provost,” Vika said, “I will not comply. Our orders from the High Provost contain no ambiguity. I will not defy them.”
Adra realized she had been wrong about Vika; she was not going to meekly obey and do her duty as her brother had done. Adra knew that Vika had a valid reason to dispute her order. And she also knew that Warfare Command would most likely side with her, given recent events. But by disobeying her superior, Vika would have to survive Adra’s judgment first. In some ways she respected Vika’s choice to fight rather than kowtow to her orders – at least it would settle their feud, rather than both of them enduring what could be decades of mutual resentment.
“You are refusing my command, Adjutant Vika?” asked Adra, calmly.
“I am,” replied Vika, with equal poise.
There was nothing more to say, at least not with words, and so Adra’s next response was with action. She rushed towards Vika, and though the Adjutant had expected an attack, she was still caught on the back foot by Adra’s ferocious speed. A fist hammered into Vika’s chin, but she managed to partially block the next blow, more out of instinct than intent. Adra then spun and thrust a kick to Vika’s chest. The power of the blow sent Vika crashing through the glass wall of the office, peppering her with razor-sharp shards that pricked and scraped her face and neck. Adra surged after her and tried to stomp her heel down on Vika’s throat, but she rolled to the side, feeling the glass bite deeper into her flesh. Ignoring the pain, Vika flashed out a leg, sweeping Adra to the deck. Both soldiers were back on their feet in a second, glass fragments studded into their armor like shimmering dragon scales.
Adra advanced again, fists, elbows and kicks flying, but Vika blocked the attacks and countered with a thumping knee to Adra’s gut. Adra staggered back and soaked up a follow-up combo, but Vika had underestimated Adra’s resilience. Deflecting the next attack, Adra countered with a cross that sent Vika reeling out towards the chamber containing the stasis pods.
Adra’s next attack was telegraphed and Vika dodged, countering with a kick to the back of Adra’s knee. The Vice Provost dropped and an elbow landed hard to the side of her face. A shard of glass embedded into Vika’s armor gouged a bloody furrow across Adra’s cheek. She grimaced and grabbed Vika’s arm, before launching her into an empty stasis pod, shattering more glass, which poured over her face and inside the collar of her armor. Like a boxer hemmed into a corner, Adra pummeled Vika to body and face, cracking armor, bone and knuckles, before Vika finally managed to wrestle her away and push her back.
Vika spat out bloodied, broken teeth and grabbed Adra’s armored jacket, and despite the Vice Provost’s greater stature and strength, Vika’s rage overcame her. She threw Adra to the deck, pinned her and rained down frenzied punches to her face and head. But her ill-discipline would cost her. Adra caught Vika’s wrists and rose a knee up to her gut, breaking the pin before kicking the Adjutant away.
Again, both were on their feet in a second. Both were cut and bloodied and broken, and as much as Adra hated to admit it, Vika had so far matched her almost blow-for-blow.
“You fight well, for one so young,” said Adra, circling around her opponent. Despite the nature of the words, the tone was condescending, not complimentary.
“The fight is not over yet...” replied Vika, mirroring Adra move for move. She spat blood onto the deck and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “But before I kill you, I’ll make you suffer for what you did to Lux.”
Adra smiled. Vika was strong and perhaps even her equal in combat, but she was also emotional and this gave Adra the advantage.
“I did nothing. Lux died because he was weak,” Adra hit back, “Weak and worthless, just as you have become.” Vika bristled, and almost charged, but just managed to rein in her rising fury. Adra knew she had touched a nerve and continued to press her, “But even if his weakness had not killed him, I would have done it myself out of pity!”
Vika screamed and charged at Adra in a feverish attempt to tackle her to the deck, but the attack was rushed and clumsy, and it gave Adra the opportunity she needed. She stooped, lowering her center to stop Vika from taking her down and then grabbed her head and cranked her neck, before spinning her into a choke hold. Realizing the danger she was in, Vika pushed back, ramming Adra into another empty stasis pod, but Adra held firm, adding pressure to the hold as more glass scratched their faces. Vika continued to fight, slipping a hand between Adra’s arm and her neck, desperately trying to relieve the pressure on her carotid artery, while pounding elbows into Adra’s side, but still the pressure increased, until Adra could feel Vika’s strength failing and her efforts to break free become feeble and useless.
But then, without warning, Adra released her hold and pushed Vika away. She fell hard, driving the shards of glass further into her face and scalp, and tried to push herself up, but she only managed to rise to one knee before Adra was standing above her and drawing her serrated, black blade. It was only now, with Vika defeated, that honor would permit her to draw the weapon. While the blade was a fitting weapon to dispatch racketeers and the unworthy, a contest between members of the military elite was always settled hand-to-hand. A contest of pure strength and skill, as well as guile. A contest Adra had won.
“Submit,” growled Adra through labored breaths, angling the tip of the blade towards Vika’s throat. “I do not want you dead.”
Vika spat more blood and then peered up into Adra’s intense green eyes, “I would rather die than submit to you.”