by G J Ogden
As Taylor listened to Adra speak, unfiltered and unguarded for the first time, he found a part of himself empathize with her, and this shocked him more deeply than almost anything he had experienced since the revelation of his own identity. He’d hated the Hedalt for what they had done. Adra seemed not to see the irony that by creating human simulants, her race was no better than the Masters, who had engineered and used them. Yet despite what she had done, and despite the extreme measures the Hedalt had taken, Taylor understood the root cause of their resentment. What had happened to them was unjust. But it did not excuse what Warfare Command and Adra herself had done. They had sought to annihilate an entire species, and had come perilously close to succeeding, simply because humans had inherited a world that had been stolen from them. Despite human history, and the harm they had done to the planet over thousands of years, humans were not responsible for what happened to the Hedaltus. Of that crime, at least, they were blameless.
“You have no more claim to Earth than any of the creatures living on it, humans included,” said Taylor, watching the sun dance off the slowly undulating water. “All I’ve done is help to right a wrong. What the humans do from here is down to them, and them alone. They can choose to be better than they were, or the same. They can cherish this re-birthed planet you have created, or turn it to ash. It was never for you to decide their fate.”
Adra laughed again and more blood leaked out from the corner of her mouth. “Only fools believe in fate, simulant,” she said, slowly twisting her neck to look at him. “And only the weak and unworthy are afraid to perform acts of greatness.” Then she turned her head out to the water one last time, and added, with a melancholy that sounded almost human, “But I told you that you would not understand.” Her eyelids flickered and the laser sharpness departed her eyes. Then she exhaled slowly, releasing her final breath into the warm evening air, and rested her head on the sand. “because despite everything… part of you is still… human…”
TWENTY-NINE
Acrisp wind swept across the Colombia River, causing Sarah Sonner to pull her jacket more tightly around her body. Despite it being early Summer, the effect of wind-chill from the fresh river breeze was still bracing, and to cap it all off, it had just started to rain. She glanced at Taylor, who appeared not to be fazed by the temperature or the droplets of water landing on his smooth, synthetic skin. He was standing perfectly still, staring out towards Point Ellis, in the place where the Astoria-Megler Bridge used to be. Now the bridge, all signs of human habitation and everything in the city he had a memory of once calling home had been erased, and the area given back to nature. He didn’t know which was more unreal – the memory of his former home or the sight of it now, as if he were looking at it through the lens of time.
“You know, I would have preferred that we had this little meeting back in California,” complained Sonner, wiping the rain from her eyes. “I hate the rain.”
“Add it to the list,” said Taylor, smiling at her. “Besides coffee, is there anything you do actually like?”
This forced Sonner to think. For years leading up to the end of Earth’s first war with the Hedalt, and all the time since she’d woken up, alone, in the Contingency base three centuries later, she’d thought of nothing but the fight. Now it was over, she didn’t know what to think or how to feel.
“I guess I’m going to have to find a hobby or two.”
“From what I’ve heard, Governor Sonner, you’re not going to have time,” Taylor said, teasing her by stressing the word ‘Governor’.
Sonner just wafted a hand at him and tutted, “That’s not a real title, it’s just a...” she tried to come up with another description, but Taylor helped her out.
“It’s a term of endearment. Affection even,” said Taylor. “They all look up to you, as well they should. You’ve given them their home back.”
Sonner shook her head, “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Write yourself out of the history books, before the ink is even dry. Without you, none of this would have been possible. And this is your home too, remember?”
Taylor accepted her words without complaint, though he knew the time would soon come when he’d have to tell Sonner his plans. But right now, he was just enjoying her company, and the view.
“I’m sorry that Reese didn’t get to see this,” he said, reminded of others whose acts of heroism deserved recognition. “Whoever writes the history of The Contingency War should dedicate a chapter to him.”
Sonner sighed, but then nodded slowly. “You know, he asked if I’d give it a second chance,” she said, glancing back at Taylor. “He and I. It never even occurred to me that he wouldn’t be here. You just assume the people you know will still be there at the end.”
“I’m sorry,” said Taylor, “I shouldn’t have mentioned him. It was insensitive...”
“No, it’s okay, really,” Sonner interrupted, patting him gently on the shoulder, “I’m glad I at least got a chance to square things with him. But it’s a shame he didn’t get to see Earth again. He loved nature and the outdoors. He would have wanted to explore; to see everything.” Then she laughed, “I was never really a believer in second chances…”
“Too stubborn, you mean…” said Taylor with a smirk, and this time Sonner jabbed him on the arm.
“Fine, I was too stubborn to believe in second chances,” Sonner corrected, “but after seeing what the Hedalt did to this planet, it just shows that anything is possible.”
“You gave me a second chance,” said Taylor, “As usual, you’re too hard on yourself.”
“I gave you a first chance, Taylor. You never needed a second.” Then she looked at him with kind eyes and added, “Just another thing about you that’s extremely rare.”
Taylor smiled back and then peered out across the choppy water again, “I still can’t get over the fact that the Hedalt were native to Earth.”
“It doesn’t excuse what they did,” said Sonner, with an icy sharpness.
“Not all the Hedalt were like Adra,” said Taylor, remembering Rikov and wondering how many millions, even billions more like him there were. “Warfare Command may never give up trying to claim Earth as their own, but there may still be other Hedalt on the planet, and they’re not your enemy.”
“I’ve actually given that some thought,” said Sonner, as another gust of wind cut through the thin jacket she was wearing. “With the War Carrier, plus its fighters and a dozen other Hedalt cruisers we managed to salvage, added to the Nimrod Fleet, I’m not worried about Warfare Command. But Adra’s crimes, and the crimes of those like her shouldn’t be shared by the innocent.”
“So what do you intend to do about the Hedalt who are already on the planet?”
“They can stay,” shrugged Sonner. “After all, if Adra is right, it’s as much their world as ours. And it’s hardly overpopulated right now.”
Taylor smiled and shook his head, “Just when I thought I had you all figured out, you surprise the hell out of me again.”
“I’m a complicated woman,” Sonner replied, winking at him. “Just as this war was more complicated than we thought, too. We were naive to think the Hedalt were all the same. Evil, for want of a better word.”
“It’s easy to fight a war when you just see the enemy as monsters,” said Taylor, remembering how Adra’s programming had once made him see humans that way. Then he added, with a wink of his own, “A wise person told me that once.”
The sky rumbled and Sonner looked up, squinting as heavier water droplets fell into her eyes, “Damn, I think there’s a storm coming.”
“It’s not a storm,” said Taylor, pointing up to an area of dark cloud. “It’s just my ride.”
Sonner traced the direction of Taylor’s outstretched arm and saw the familiar, scorpion-like shape of a Hedalt Corvette soaring down from the upper atmosphere towards them.
“Which brings me to the thing I’ve been meaning to tell you,” said Taylor, looking down an
d scuffing the soles of his boots in the dirt.
“You’re not staying on Earth,” said Sonner, without the slightest suggestion of surprise.
“No...” said Taylor, caught off guard. “You already knew?”
“I guessed,” said Sonner, “I suppose I’ve had a nagging feeling for some time. It seemed like each time you found a new member of your crew, you were discovering a new part of yourself too. And that person became less and less the Taylor Ray that originated here, centuries ago.”
“I can’t really explain it better,” said Taylor, again impressed by Sonner’s sudden emotional insight. “It’s as if I know this place, even without all the people, and the buildings and the bridge, but it’s like remembering a photograph. I was never really here. This planet was never my home. And when you boil it down to the cold, hard facts, I’m not really human. I have no place here.”
“I don’t know what you are, my strange robotic friend,” said Sonner, hooking her arm through Taylor’s. “But your humanity is without question. And if you ever want to come back, Earth will always be your home.”
The Contingency One circled round in front of them, its thrusters kicking up a trail of spray along the river adding yet more water into the already rain-saturated air. It then set down about twenty meters from where Sonner and Taylor were standing on the bank where the Maritime Memorial had once been. The rear cargo ramp lowered and soon Blake, Casey and Satomi all stepped out.
“I have one last favor to ask of you, Captain Taylor Ray,” said Sonner as they walked together, arm in arm, towards the ship.
“Name it.”
“I want you to destroy the super-luminal transceiver that’s positioned near Earth,” said Sonner, briefly adopting her more ‘Commanderly’ tone, “and any others that are close to the solar system. We need time to heal and re-build.”
“Are you sure?” said Taylor, “Destroying them won’t completely isolate Earth. They still know where you are.”
“I know, but it will force them to have to make many blind jumps, which we know the Hedalt can’t tolerate,” said Sonner. “If nothing else, it will deter them from trying, and buy us more time.”
“Aye aye, Commander Sarah Sonner,” said Taylor as they both reached the ship and turned to face each other.
“Just Sarah will do fine,” said Sonner.
Taylor was usually the awkward one in moments like these, but this time he knew exactly what to do. He reached out and pulled Sonner into a tight embrace, so tight that he actually heard joints in her spine clicking. But it didn’t stop Sonner from reciprocating; squeezing back with just as much pressure. They remained this way for a couple more seconds, before they drew back and smiled warmly into each other’s eyes.
“I’m going to miss you, Sarah,” said Taylor.
“Likewise, Taylor,” Sonner answered, “But I’m glad you got your family back. Take care out there, okay?”
“I will,” said Taylor, “and thank you. For everything.” Then he took a step towards his waiting crew, but paused and glanced back, “Well, everything apart from all the coffee cups you kept leaving around the ship.”
Sonner laughed, as Taylor resumed his climb up the cargo ramp to join the others, who all waved at her, including, much to her surprise, the normally apathetic Blake Meade. The cargo ramp began to whir shut and Sonner backed away to get clear of the blast from the thrusters. She was wet enough already, without the engines blowing her into the chilly Columbia River. Then as the Contingency One gently lifted off and began to ascend, Sonner had the nagging feeling that she’d forgotten something, or left something unsaid. She wore a frown all the way back to the small Hedalt shuttlecraft they had commandeered to reach Astoria in the first place, before it suddenly dawned on her.
She shot an uncharacteristically blue curse into the rainy Oregon sky and then called out after the rapidly vanishing shape of the Contingency One, “Damn it, Taylor, you still have my favorite mug!”
THIRTY
The crew of the Contingency One watched on the viewport as the super-luminal transceiver exploded brightly, burning like a miniature star, until eventually it fizzled into nothing, leaving only an expanding cloud of charred debris behind. With its destruction, another thread of the Fabric was also cut. Along with the other transceivers that they’d already destroyed, Taylor and his crew had torn a tiny hole in the vast, ancient network, wide enough to afford Earth a little breathing space from the Hedalt.
Still, Taylor knew that without destroying hundreds of transceivers it would still be possible for a ship to blind jump to Earth, calculating the course using other intersecting nodes. But Sonner was right that even this small tear would thwart the Hedalt’s efforts to return. Without simulants, they would need to crew the ships themselves, and few Hedalt were as resilient to space travel as the indomitable Vice Provost Adra had been. But Taylor believed the precaution was still worth taking. Should Warfare Command survive the loss of the Nexus, there was always a possibility they would attempt to return and attack Earth again.
“That’s the last of the spiky spaceballs, Cap,” said Blake, flexing his arms as if he’d physically pummeled the transceiver into dust with his bare fists, rather than the ship’s cannons.
“So, where to now, Cap?” asked Casey, spinning around in her chair, her sequined purple sneakers dancing in the air. Taylor smiled, suddenly realizing that they were similar to the pair that the original Casey Valera had worn. The new Casey must have found them in her quarters.
Taylor shrugged, “Anywhere we like,” he said, nonplussed by the question. “We have enough fuel to fly twice around the galaxy if we want to, so I’ll leave it up to you. Pilot’s discretion!”
Blake shuddered, “I ain’t sure that ‘pilot’s discretion’ is such a great idea when it comes to Casey,” he said, tilting his head back to look at Taylor, “She’ll end up flyin’ us through a nebula or into a black hole, just for kicks.”
“Ooh, a black hole sounds like fun...” Casey answered, pressing a finger to her bottom lip, as if she were a super-villain contemplating a new master plan. “But, as luck would have it, I’ve computed a few interesting destinations, already.” Then she winked at Blake, “One is even close to a black hole…” she added, before turning back to Taylor. “So, give the word, Cap, and let’s explore!”
Taylor thought for a moment and then smiled, “Second star to the right, and straight on till morning...” he annunciated.
Blake clicked his fingers repeatedly “Oh, wait, I know that one!” he called out with enthusiasm, and then he squeezed his eyes shut, “Damn it, I know it! It’ll come to me... just wait... wait… Peter Pan! Right?” He looked at Taylor expectantly, and he nodded, clearly impressed. “I have a memory of my ma’ – or Blake’s ma, whatever – readin’ it to me. I even know the author, J M Barrie.” Then he stabbed an outstretched finger towards Satomi Rose, who had walked over beside Taylor and rested a hand on his shoulder. “There, how d’ya like that, Satomi? I actually got one of the Cap’s quotes right!”
Satomi scrunched up her nose a little, “Well, almost right...” Taylor and Casey looked at her, expectantly, while Blake’s face fell. “The true quote is, ‘Second to the right, and straight on till morning.’ The mention of a star was added to the later animated movie adaptations. So, technically speaking...”
“Oh no,” Blake interrupted, wagging a finger at her, “don’t you dare!”
“...technically speaking,” Satomi continued, wearing an especially wicked smirk, “you are incorrect, Blake. Sorry.”
Casey and Taylor burst out laughing, but Satomi managed to hold it together, despite her smile growing broader.
“Damn it, Cap, this Satomi’s the worst of the lot!” said Blake, though he was smiling too. “Must be cos’ she’s a glitchy prototype.”
“We’re all prototypes, Blake,” said Taylor, “the first and only of our kind. And I think it’s about time we got underway.” Then he turned back to Casey with a twinkle in his silver sim
ulant eyes, and said, “Second star to the right, Casey.”
“Aye aye, Captain Taylor Ray!” sang Casey, as she spun back around and selected one of her new jump programs at random; one which would take them into an unexplored region of the galaxy. She started the jump countdown and began to spin around in her chair, toes pointed and sequined sneakers sparkling like fire, “Hold on to your hats, people...
Jumping in five...
...F o u r
...T h r e e
. . . T w o
. . . O n e”
THIRTY-ONE
Personal Journal – Entry #4
When I started this journal, I didn’t know who I was. I’m still learning. But what I do know is that I’m not the same Taylor Ray that the Hedalt harvested over three hundred years ago. That Taylor was human. He lived on Earth in Astoria, Oregon, and called that place his home. And while a part of me may be human, Earth is not my home. My home is the Contingency One. And humans are not my family. Well, with one notable, and often cranky, caffeine-addicted, but ultimately exceptional exception. My family is right here with me – and my place is with them, out among the stars.
We started together as a group of simulants living a cruel and devious lie, but though we were torn apart, we found each other again. None of us are the same people we thought we were, and each of us is still discovering what it truly means to be an individual. But we’re doing it together. Somehow, we all share a bond that no other living creature in the galaxy has. We’re linked through memories, new and old, real and imagined, and through a unique connection that’s woven through the fabric of space itself. Each of us is special. Each of us is flawed. In that way, I guess we’re not all that different to humans, after all.