by Michael Kan
Her doubt was still there, and so she had to ask.
Julian, she said. Why did you save me?
What do you mean?
I’m just a machine, she added. You didn’t have to I didn’t need to come back.
She gasped, feeling her body. Her artificial systems were simulating it: the hurried breath, the tension in her face, the moisture in her eyes. Her body was throbbing with her every touch.
The wind had abated, but the chill in her fingers remained. The woman looked at the pilot, embarrassed.
I’m sorry, she said, regretting the statement. I keep asking this question, don’t I?
Perhaps I’m thinking too much, she was quick to add. Sometimes I don’t know what to feel. Or what to think.
The pilot, however, didn’t mind the questions. He could tell that she was uneasy and perhaps overwhelmed. She was right. It was strange. So he slowly walked over and thought of what to say.
I just did what I thought was right, he explained. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.
He scratched his beard and smiled. More important, I wanted to thank you, he went on. You saved my people. You helped saved the galaxy.
The pilot gestured toward the surrounding forest and then toward the air. This was the man’s home world, a remote colony far from Earth. It was called Haven and was populated with over sixty million lives. He stared up at the white-and-yellow sun, which was directly overhead. All this is here because of you.
The man was grateful, and he tried to reassure her. But it did little to comfort the woman. She only felt more awkward.
I’m no hero, she said flatly. I don’t remember any of this. I only remember you and Alysdeon.
The woman stepped away and sighed. She began to recall the public reports and her recent interactions with the Alliance. So much of it was laced with that one word.
Savior, she said, utterly listless. That’s what they call me. But I didn’t do anything. People thank me, but I don’t even know what to say.
It bothered her to receive such praise and admiration. So many people now looked at her with such hope and enthusiasm. She could see it in their eyes and smiles. The alien members of the Alliance were just the same, always bestowing upon her such honor and grace.
I wish it would just stop, she complained. I’m just a machine. There’s no need.
The pilot came to her and was there to disagree. He reached out and touched her shoulder.
You’re not just software, he said. You’re Arendi Soldanas. I know it’s hard to accept everything, but you did make a difference. I was there. I know.
He pressed his hand flat against his chest, sincere in his thoughts. Although the man didn’t pretend to have the answers, he vowed always to be there.
The woman nodded and felt reassured, despite all the uncertainty. Gradually, she felt the anxiety lift.
I just wish I remembered everything, she said. Then maybe this would be easier.
Hearing this, the man took her hand into his own. He smiled, hoping to make everything a little simpler.
Don’t worry, he said. I will help you remember.
The two would continue walking leisurely through the grass. The sun was shining, and the birds were all taking to the air. The pilot and the woman strolled under it all, chatting about the past and what might be. It was her and him and no one else.
Of course, none of this was truly happening. This was history; the actual event had taken place decades ago. Standing among the simulated green was the real Arendi. She was there as an invisible observer, peering back into her own memories.
This memory in particular came from twenty-nine years ago. Due to her extensive scanning systems, almost everything had been recorded in exact detail. The result left enough material to create it: a lifelike simulation that replicated the full experience. She saw everything in her artificial mind and felt the sensation of oxygen and sunlight across her hands and face.
Even the grass felt real, as the field of leaves jostled against the wind. But none of those details truly mattered. Arendi looked past it all and focused on the man with her.
He was there, breathing and speaking, almost as if nothing had changed.
Julian, she whispered. Julian Nverson.
From a distance, the man grinned. But it was not at Arendi. No, it was to the other woman. The younger version an android who still didn’t quite know herself.
She was different back then. Her physical body was less advanced, and it was frail. Her mind and her outlook were probably alike: immature and diffident.
But today in this moment in the past she didn’t feel that way. Her past self walked through the grass hand in hand with the pilot, and their chatter grew further and further away.
The current Arendi stood there, tempted to follow. She could feel the grass under her feet and hear the man over the wind. But there was no point in joining him. This was just a memory. She knew how it would end.
What happened to you? she asked, hearing the chatter eventually die out. Where did you go?
For her, the moment was bittersweet. Then tragic. The real Julian was gone. The man in the current scene was a simulation and nothing more.
Arendi hadn’t relived this memory in years. Even now, she didn’t do so quite willingly.
It was just a compulsion, she thought. A raw emotion asking her to remember. And so she did, thinking it might help in some strange way.
In the end, however, she only found herself alone. Both her younger self and the pilot had left her field of view.
Arendi angrily turned off the simulation. The space in her mind became completely blank. The sun, the trees and the grass had all disappeared in an instant.
She then reactivated her physical systems. She had no time to waste. Thirty years ago, she and Julian had helped save the galaxy. Now everything was falling apart.
***
The planet continued to burn. The massive fires were still eating into the green. Across every continent was smoldering ash. The estimated death toll: seven billion or more.
It was three days later, and although the enemy was long gone, the damage was done. The Arcenian home world had been transformed into a graveyard. Entire habitats had been ground into chalk and bone. The space ring had come apart, and so had the local government. Among the casualties was Admiral Onatagias. The Arcenian commander was missing, but he was almost surely dead; the entire capital was now a vast. rubble-filled crater.
Arendi was there now, in the darkened gloom. She was surveying the destruction and looking for possible survivors. The dirt beneath her feet was charred. Scanning in every direction, she walked along the outskirts of the blast site, or what was once Vellanar’s largest city.
Formerly home to thirty million lives, the capital was now just dust and debris. Arendi could smell and feel it in the air. The people and their structures had been utterly demolished in the attack. She pushed past the ash and forbid herself to breathe.
It was all eerily silent as she walked to the deep depression in the middle of what was once the capital. The enemy’s particle beam had bored into the earth. From what she guessed, the capital had sustained the worst of the bombardment. The blasts had annihilated the surface, with a mixture of tremendous speed and heat.
As a result, nothing was left standing. Every site was picked clean of life and replaced with ruin. In her scans, she found the leftovers of dead drones, abandoned vehicles, and Arcenian corpses. The devastation extended for miles both buildings and bodies blown away by the shock wave.
Arendi shut off the scan, sick of the sight.
Why? she wondered. Why do this?
The question was directed squarely at the woman responsible for all this. Arendi wanted an answer as she watched ash raining down from above. But the white-haired woman was nowhere to be seen. She and her forces had left the system as quickly as they arrived. They had now moved on to attack other worlds, meting out more destruction.
>
The rest of the Alliance was trying to counter their every move. All Sentinels had been deployed, and they were joining the conflict in whatever capacity they could.
Arendi remained on Vellanar, assisting the rescue efforts. Alliance medical carriers had arrived and were beginning to treat survivors.
Finding nothing, she accessed her comm and contacted the carriers in orbit.
So far no survivors, Arendi reported. Moving on.
She said the words as she looked up at the sky. The clouds in the atmosphere remained bleak and charcoaled. Soon, a biting wind would come, lifting more ash into the air. It was becoming obvious now. The planet itself was dying. As the smoke and fire scorched the air, the ecosystem holding the environment together was beginning to collapse. A nuclear winter was setting in, and terraforming would be needed to save what was left.
Farcia she muttered in disdain. For whatever cruel reason, the woman had wanted Arendi to see this.
Everything else, however, was still a mystery. The target was clearly aligned with the Endervars, and even the Unity, but her motives and wants remained largely unknown. Arendi was trying to change that. Walking through the desolation, she eventually arrived at another blast site near the capital. Another crater dug out of the earth.
The pit was large and wide. Her scans showed that it measured over two kilometers across. Approaching the edge, she knelt on the ground, examining the surroundings. She then jumped in, falling into the darkness. The depression in the ground was deep. She fell over three hundred feet before she landed on another patch of dirt. The center of the pit, however, continued to slope down and drop off into more darkness. How far it went, Arendi could only guess.
She assumed that the bombardment had caused this. That an enemy particle-beam blast had struck the surface and drilled into the dirt.
But as Arendi examined at the scans, she saw no evidence of any heat damage. In fact, the sensors found no errant particles or energies in the vicinity, only dirt.
She looked off at the ridges and contours of the crater, wondering whether something had been buried here. If so, a giant force had come and pulled it all out of the rocky floor. This began to explain the unusual readings. A day ago Arendi had reviewed the surviving surveillance data from the bombardment. Orbital satellites had detected a gravity surge coming from the capital. Although some of the details were obscured by the enemy barrage, the evidence suggested that a powerful tractor beam had flashed over this location. Arendi crouched down and picked up a clump of dirt. Whatever was here, it was clearly important.
This is what you wanted, she said. Wasn’t it?
Rising, Arendi walked on and dived deeper into the falling darkness, trying to find out whether anything was left.
***
A few hours later Arendi returned to orbit. She boarded the medical carrier, entering its confines in haste. She had received the news over the comm. Red was apparently still alive, although not in the way she had hoped. The medical team was baffled. Revival procedures had been ordered, but the patient had regained consciousness on his own. There was no explanation as to why or how. The man’s anatomy was still alien to the doctors. At the time, the team wasn’t even quite sure how to operate. The doctors simply sought to sustain and preserve his body for later treatment and study.
Passing by the hospital rooms, Arendi saw the patients. Many of them had arrived blackened and bruised. Almost all were Arcenians, either crippled or near death. It would take time, but the medical teams were rebuilding brains, bones, and other organs in an effort to save as many lives as possible. The list of the severely wounded was long. Other patients had been declared dead upon arrival. At least their bodies were intact and could potentially be rejuvenated. Billions more had been completely vaporized. Not even a corpse had been left behind for possible salvage.
Walking to the end of the hallway, Arendi finally found Red, on the last hospital bed in the corner. He was clothed in a white medical gown and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was motionless, like all the other patients, and silent, his eyes wide open.
Arendi came to him, already aware of his condition. She spoke softly.
Red. It’s me. Do you remember me?
Arendi examined his face and saw no physical injuries on his body. She then spoke louder, hoping for a reaction.
Cieras Novaire, can you hear me?
So far there was nothing. No change at all. Red simply stared up and away, his dark eyes empty. Arendi waved her hand, trying to elicit a response. She then snapped her fingers and touched his cheeks.
Red. Can you speak? Arendi made sure to tune her words into his language, but still there was nothing. In spite of her efforts, the man before her showed no response. His gills nearly sagged open, and Arendi saw the drool coming from them. The man was practically catatonic. The medical team had indicated as much. Even the resident telepath had failed to reach him. Although Red’s body was alive and well, his mind was beyond treatment. They could only conclude that his mental capacities were likely destroyed.
Arendi accessed the medical report near his bed. As it transferred into her artificial mind, she read over the preliminary diagnosis.
Severe mental trauma, she muttered. Evidence of a complete memory wipe.
In essence, Red was still dead. He knew nothing of himself or how to speak or communicate. She looked at him and saw an empty vessel. The man inside was gone.
Red she whispered. You shouldn’t have done that. I told you not to.
Arendi recalled those last moments. He had wanted to help and had bravely risked his life to do so. He must have felt it was necessary, but unfortunately his effort had been for naught.
She looked at him now and saw the colors in his face. The prism across his skin had dulled; the grays and whites were overshadowing any of the former glow. Arendi took a nearby cloth and wiped the drool from his cheeks. She then found a chair and sat at his side.
She wondered what to do next. Red’s people were on the other end of the galaxy, out of typical communication range. She’d need to send a courier to message them with the hope that they could help. But with the new war breaking out, she wasn’t sure how or when any of this might happen. For now, there was little else to do for him. All she could do was make one last attempt.
Arendi pulled the gold coin out of her jacket pocket and held it between her fingers. She carefully opened the locket and placed it in front of Red.
The picture inside was of her. An image of Farcia was etched into the brass.
Do you remember? she asked. You came all this way, just to find her.
Arendi failed to notice the youth in the picture. To her, Farcia was just a faceless woman, devoid of expression. She took the locket and desperately placed it closer to his eyes. If there was anything that Red might remember, it would be Farcia.
There was no change. The man failed to see it. His eyes and face were vacant, unaware of the image. He experienced nothing. Not even pain. Arendi felt it, however. She sniffed and pulled her hand away.
The locket was among the surviving pieces found on the Kinnison. It was once considered evidence and had been stored securely in the ship’s lockers. Red had never talked about it before, but Arendi knew it must be important. She grasped the locket’s chain and carefully placed it around his neck.
Here, she whispered. Be with her the way you want to remember her.
It was the only comfort she could give him. The real Farcia was clearly someone else now. To Arendi, the woman was a target and a dangerous threat and nothing more.
Red continued vacantly staring up at the ceiling. He was oblivious to all that she said. His search was over, and he had found Farcia only to lose everything.
Chapter 16
The ensign floated in the cold. Her gold-and-black hair was encrusted in ice. Like all the others, she was being stored in freezing temperatures. The young officer lay there in the stasis pod, dead and idle.
Many of the deceased were being kept in the area. The cargo hold was filled with them corpses preserved cryogenically. Just in this one transport alone, there were hundreds of bodies, some of them maimed beyond recognition. The ensign joined them in this makeshift morgue, waiting to be revived. Her own individual pod was nestled against the wall, the front surface covered in glass.
Watching the ensign was a human female with hair just as gold. She approached the pod in silence, fearful and holding her breath. The ice was thick, but so were the scars. The burns had scorched the ensign’s skin and gnarled her chin and cheek. Clearly, extensive surgery would be needed to repair the damage. But despite the wounds, the woman recognized the ensign’s face. This was her daughter, after all. Even now, the resemblance between the two was almost uncanny.
For a moment, the mother saw a near mirror of herself, shrouded in rime. She touched the glass and then tried going further. Like her daughter, she was a telepath, but she was far more adept. Four hundred years of life had taught her to hone her power and to sense the mind and all its tendencies.
The mother knew, however, that she would feel nothing. The whole room was vacant of organic thought, along with any sound. She simply had to wait and hope that revival would come. In another few hours, the vessel would leave Vellanar and depart for a facility devoted to saving the dead. Placing her hand against the pod, the mother imagined her daughter’s pain but also her warmth and her resolve.
The mother spoke through her artificial implants. With each word, the lines across her face glowed, and the air around her hummed. Her instinct was to mourn, and so she did, opening her lips but saying nothing. Wiping her eyes, she pulled away from the pod. The silence in the dimly lit room had abruptly lifted. Behind her, the echo began to drum.
The entrance to the cargo hold was opening. Then a clatter of footsteps hastily tapped on the floor.
The mother sensed no sentient thought, but very soon she heard her name.
Alysdeon, the voice said. The tone was familiar, and naturally the mother had to smile. She turned to the entrance, comforted by her company. Arendi, a cherished friend, had arrived. She was also now a mentor to her daughter, and the two embraced as they met in the cargo hold.