by Doug Farren
He remained very still and concentrated on his body. Other than a pounding headache, he felt no pain. Had something gone wrong? He forced calmness upon himself and concentrated again. Memories of what he had been told to expect upon awakening appeared. There was nothing wrong; his cybernetics had not yet been activated.
He felt a firm touch on his arm—someone had noticed he was awake. After a short wait, he thought he could hear faint sounds. A few seconds later, he was sure. After a few more seconds, he could pick out a voice, "Mr. Wilks, if you can hear me, raise your right arm." The voice was repeating the question and slowly getting louder.
He raised his right arm.
"Very good Mr. Wilks," the voice said. "We are slowly bringing your cybernetic systems up. If at any time you feel pain, lower your arm. Your eyesight will be returning shortly. Do not try to speak until we ask you to. If you understand, wiggle your fingers."
Over the next several minutes, his hearing improved and finally returned to normal. His eyesight came back as if someone was slowly brightening the room lights. Five people were standing nearby. Tom recognized the biomaster in charge of his surgery and the senior cybertech. The other three people consisted of a nurse, and two other cybertechs. Two large racks of instruments were installed along one wall. The two assistant cybertechs were carefully watching the readouts.
The senior cybertech conferred with his two assistants and said, "You can lower your arm now. You may also talk if you wish. Your new cybernetics are almost fully activated. Certain specialized functions have been inhibited for now, until you learn how to use them. How do you feel?"
Tom lowered his arm. "Other than a headache, I feel fine."
"The headache is normal and will pass in a few days,” the biomaster said. “Your surgery went well. Sit up please."
The cybertechs and the biomaster put him through a lengthy series of tests. Finally, the equipment was disconnected and Tom was asked to remain in his room. He would be under close observation for the next few days. After the technicians left, he got up and walked over to the room's mirror to look at himself; a new being stared back at him.
Except for his face, the rest of his body had been encased in armor. His eyes were now black cybernetic machines of incredible precision. Many of the changes could not be seen. His entire skeletal system had been replaced or reinforced with duralloy. His heart, one of his lungs, and a kidney were gone, either replaced by cybernetic equivalents or removed to make room for other equipment. His skull had been replaced by a complex headpiece of duralloy. Embedded within the underside of his new brain-case was the biolink.
The biolink was a sophisticated molecular microcomputer that allowed the Peacekeeper to control the more advanced features of his cybernetics. It communicated directly with the brain. The biolink was the single most closely guarded secret of the Peacekeepers. But before it could be used, it would have to be programmed to properly interpret the microvolt electrical signals generated by Tom's brain. The biolink was intimately linked with the computer aboard his ship.
The sound of approaching footsteps announced the arrival of a visitor. An armor-clad, reptilian head appeared in the doorway. “Lashpa?” Tom asked, before his visitor could say anything.
“The new and improved version,” she replied, stepping into the room. “I am glad to see you are doing well.”
“Look at you!” Tom exclaimed. Two quick steps brought him into her open arms and like two lovers they embraced. “It’s good to see you again,” he said, after they separated.
“I could not agree more.”
Tom suddenly realized he was not hearing her speak through a vocoder. He had become used to hearing her talk quietly in her native tongue while listening to the translation from the vocoder. But now, all he heard was her voice speaking in crystal-clear English. “Are you speaking in English?” he blurted out.
Lashpa huffed in a Rouldian laugh. “No, and I am certain you are not speaking in Rouldian. Our cybernetic ears are equipped with an automatic translator. Much better than being forced to use a vocoder.”
“I should have remembered that,” Tom said, embarrassed that he had forgotten some of his basic training. “How are you feeling?”
“Different. With all this armor covering me I hope I never get an itch.”
Tom’s hand automatically went to the back of his head. The pads of his cybernetic fingers encountered cold, hard, duralloy as he tried to scratch a nonexistent itch. Instantly realizing what he had done, he stopped and burst out laughing.
Three days later, Tom was released from the hospital. From now on, his training would take place in the advanced section of the academy. The power level of his cybernetics was slowly raised as he learned to properly control the awesome strength he had been given. Within a few days he was lifting weights that would have crushed a normal person. As his coordination improved, he found he could run faster, jump higher, and move faster than he ever thought possible.
One of the more boring aspects of his advanced training involved the biolink. He would sit in a chair along with a group of other Peacekeepers for three hours a day looking at pictures, listening to sounds, and thinking certain thoughts as his biolink was programmed. After nearly a month of such activities, the cybertech monitoring the programming session asked Tom to accompany him to a private room. Tom, wondering what was going on, obediently followed the technician.
The cybertech closed the door and said, "We would like to attempt something different this morning. Up until now you have been sending to the biolink. We think we have a sufficient analysis to allow the biolink to communicate with you." The technician walked over to a small panel and said, "We are ready, proceed."
"Good morning Tom," a familiar voice said.
"Good morning," Tom replied. It was only after he had spoken that he realized the technician had not uttered a word.
The cybertech looked at Tom and smiled. "You do not need to speak," he said. “You’re now in direct communication with your ship. It will take over the programming from this point. There may be times when your Seeker will be unable to understand you or will misinterpret your thoughts. If this happens, attempt to correct the problem by restating what was not understood. The ship's computer, along with the biolink, will determine what programming changes are required."
The next several weeks were busy ones. Tom learned what his new cybernetic body was capable of doing. He became accustomed to the biolink and slowly learned how to issue the mental commands to activate the special features of his cybernetics. He learned how to direct thoughts to the biolink while engaged in other activities, and to listen to the replies without any outward sign.
The last four months at the academy was devoted to training the new Peacekeepers on how to fully utilize their new abilities in real-life situations. Mock battles were fought with smugglers, people were rescued, and crimes were stopped. He was captured by enemy forces, attacked by bandits and overrun by mobs of citizens. Tom had participated in some of these training exercises shortly after arriving at the academy, but only as one of the normal people. Now he was a full Peacekeeper and he had to protect the rights and welfare of the citizens being played by the next group of cadets.
Some of the most intense training took place when they were introduced to their combat armor. This was a full-coverage exoskeleton of duralloy built specifically for use by fully cybernetic Peacekeepers. The armor was so intimately linked to the Peacekeeper’s existing cybernetic systems that it felt like their own body. The combat armor was equipped with a wide range of formidable weaponry and was capable of withstanding an incredible amount of punishment.
Finally, the long-awaited day arrived. Two years of training, studying, and complex surgery were about to pay off for him. Tom was excited, but also sad. Even though he could now stand indefinitely without becoming tired, he was sitting on the warm grass underneath a huge tree with his back resting against the armored side of his true-mate. Lashpa’s tail, armored but in a way not to restrict
its movement, was lying across his lap. This had become their favorite location in the academy-owned park. The sun was beating down on them through a nearly cloudless sky yet neither of them felt hot.
“Do you think we’ll be assigned to the same post?” Tom asked. They had been sitting in silence for nearly an hour, simply spending time with each other.
“I have informed the academy of our status,” Lashpa replied. “But there is no requirement to keep true-mates together. We are gragrakch but we are not mated.”
“Not according to some of my more insensitive friends,” Tom smiled.
“I still fail to understand how anyone can think that we—”
“Oh, they’ve come up with a few anatomically interesting ideas,” Tom interrupted. “Let them think what they want.”
“I am glad you feel that way,” Lashpa said. “No matter where we are, we will always be connected.”
“I know that. But that won’t stop me from coming to see you whenever I get the chance.”
“I will do the same as well although I suspect we will be quite busy in our new role as Peacekeepers.”
* * * * *
On the morning of his last day at the academy, Tom packed up everything he owned and moved aboard the Orion. After breakfast, he reported to the auditorium along with the other Peacekeepers in his class. Precisely on schedule, the Director walked onto the stage.
"Fellow Peacekeepers. Congratulations to each and every one of you. Immediately after this meeting, you will be leaving Centralis to begin your new life. You will find yourself enduring long periods of routine, often boring work and occasional periods of dangerous, fast-paced action. You have been given awesome capabilities. Choose carefully how you apply them. Always remember…You are the servant of the Alliance. You are no longer Shandarian, or Rouldian, or Tholtaran; you are a Peacekeeper, sworn to uphold Alliance law no matter where you are.”
The Director paused and gazed at the assembly. “A Peacekeeper is never on vacation. We are respected and trusted by the public and feared by those who break the law. That respect, trust, and fear must never be compromised. Your ship’s AI is empowered to ensure that those qualities that define us are enforced. It is always in your head, always listening to your thoughts, always monitoring your behavior. It is your conscience and it will take action if necessary to uphold our values. It has never happened and I hope it never will.”
The Director spread his arms out. “Your ships await you on the field. Dismissed!”
As Tom filed out of the auditorium along with the rest of the crowd, he spotted Lashpa and made his way over to her. “Where are you being sent?" she asked first.
"Oddly enough, I’m headed for Earth. How about you?"
"Earth?” she seemed surprised. “The home planet of your species. You will finally get to see where your parents were born.”
“I’m not really looking forward to it,” Tom admitted. “I would rather have been sent elsewhere. So where are you heading?”
“A Shandarian planet called Glish. It’s—"
“The Porn planet!” Tom exploded. “You’re kidding me!”
“I take it you are familiar with this planet?”
“Lashpa, there isn’t a single human anywhere in the galaxy who has not heard of it and dreamed of visiting there.”
Lashpa shook her head. “I have heard of your species odd interest in this form of entertainment you call pornography. Since my people do not engage in sexual activities purely for pleasure I am a perfect candidate to be sent to such a world where I will not be tempted by the activities in which Glish specializes.”
Tom burst out laughing. Reaching up to scratch the underside of his friend’s jaw, one of the few places not covered by armor, he said, “Of that I have no doubt. I still think nature has played a dirty trick on your species.”
Lashpa moved her head slightly so he could scratch a particularly itchy patch. “I will see you again. Good luck with your assignment.”
“Good luck with yours—I think you’re going to need it.”
Tom and Lashpa embraced. Others around them were doing the same as the classmates who had grown to know each other so well wished each other luck and bid each other farewell. Tom made his way to one of the many waiting transports. As soon as it was full, it headed for the academy’s private starport. In the distance, he could see the scout ships lined up in four unequal rows. Each one was identical except for the hull number displayed on their sides.
As the transport passed each ship, it would slow down, allowing the ship's owner to hop off. Tom's own Seeker was located about two-thirds of the way down the longest line of ships. He jumped to the ground as the transport slowed and walked over to the Orion. The entrance ramp began closing as soon as he stepped onto it. He made his way to the control room and settled into the command chair.
"Take us up whenever we have clearance to lift,” he said.
"Acknowledged," the computer replied. "Ship departures and flight paths are being controlled by the academy central computer. I estimate we will lift in about 20 minutes."
Tom had chosen a soft male voice for his computer and had instructed it to speak to him in English. The ship’s artificial intelligence adapted itself to match the personality of its owner. The longer the two spent together, the better the match became. He activated an external video feed and zoomed in on the sizable crowd of spectators at the far end of the starport. They gathered twice each year to watch the ships leave.
"Preparing for departure," the ship said, a few seconds before the Orion lifted off.
All of the ships simultaneously lifted off and hung suspended above the tarmac while the landing struts were retracted. Tom felt the soft thud as they locked themselves home. One by one, in a predetermined pattern, the ships slowly and majestically rose straight up into the clear sky and paused. A pattern began to form; an arrow pointing into an arc that floated above it with a straight line just below the arrow’s base—the symbol of the Galactic Alliance.
On a signal from the central computer, the entire formation slowly rose into the sky. As soon as they were in the vacuum of space, the formation broke apart. The Orion made a course correction and headed out of the star system at high acceleration. Trusting the ship to pilot itself, Tom retired to his cabin.
Three hours later, as he was reading a book, the Orion informed him that it would be activating the stardrive in five minutes. He put his book down on the desk and returned to the control room. All indicators appeared normal, the main fusion reactor was operating perfectly, and the stardrive pre-initiation checks had been completed. He sat down in the command chair and watched as the ship made the transition to faster than light drive. Destination—Earth.
Chapter 15
Earth: Birthplace of humanity. From space, it looks much like any other habitable world; blue, abundant oceans, white clouds hanging in the atmosphere. For many, the sight of Earth conjured up a wealth of happy emotions. Tom saw it as the planet where his parents had gone to die.
Even though it had been 12 years ago, the events of that day were burned into his memory with perfect clarity. He was just starting to answer the eighth question on his electronics final when the door to the silent classroom opened. Everyone in the room looked up, their exams momentarily forgotten, as the Dean walked to the front of the classroom. He spoke briefly with the instructor who then looked up and pointed a finger at Tom.
The Dean approached, bent down, and whispered, “Please come with me." He may as well have shouted.
In the privacy of the Dean’s office, Tom was handed a message from Earth informing him of the death of his parents in a house fire. The attached police report provided an unemotional account of the details. He kept his emotions in check until he was alone in his dorm. While he wept into a pillow he cursed his sister.
“We have been granted permission to land at the Sydney spaceport,” his ship announced, interrupting his thoughts.
Tom continued to stare at the quickly expanding
planet. “Proceed.”
His travel orders had been vague and mysterious: ‘Proceed directly to Sydney Australia, Earth. Upon arriving, remain with your ship and await further instructions.’ Numerous attempts during the 15-day journey had failed to clarify those orders.
The Orion’s AI brought the ship to a gentle landing. A few minutes later, he was outside enjoying the fresh air. The sun was still several hours away from making an appearance. The moon, a bright alien thing as far as Tom was concerned, hung high in the sky. The air was crisp and dry with a temperature of around seventeen.
About 15 minutes passed before he heard the whine of an electric car approaching. Although he heard the motor, he did not see any headlights. Utilizing the light amplification and magnification abilities of his new eyes, he watched the vehicle as it rapidly closed the distance then came to an abrupt stop. The door opened and a Peacekeeper stepped out.
“Sorbith!” Tom practically yelled, the moment he recognized the driver.
“You have a good memory,” Sorbith replied. “Welcome to Earth.”
Sorbith was one of only a handful of Saulquin Peacekeepers. The Saulquin homeworld was an ocean paradise with a smattering of tiny continents dotting its surface. They were the only race known to possess the ability to breathe both on land and under water. Sorbith had given up a tremendous amount of who he was to become a Peacekeeper. He not only lost his ability to return to the water but he also lost his ability to procreate or have any intimate relations with Saulquin women. It was a sacrifice few were willing to make.