Homefront

by Scott James Magner

  He almost fell out of his chair when it shifted from showing him shadowed ruins of gray and green to a wide sheet of vivid orange.

  "Three Passions, what is that!"

  "Keep watching."

  In all of his one-hundred and seven years, Mordecai Harrison had never wanted to do anything more. As he watched, the orange plain resolved into a pair of strange, close-set protuberances. He reduced the image, and noticed they were irregular, almost organic in nature.

  Then the plain shifted, and two eyes blinked at the securcam, one above the other and in sequence. A broad red line started just above the eyes and moved up its huge forehead, and when it turned away Mordecai could see the stripe continued down the creature’s back side.

  He also noted the extra pair of both eyes and ears on the other side of the creature’s face. His rational mind knew what he was looking at; if there were other creatures in the universe that looked like a Transgenic Type 30, the human race had yet to encounter them. But at the same time, Mordecai’s universe located them in another part of the galaxy.

  "But that’s . . . They’re . . ."

  "Keep watching."

  Paul’s voice was right behind him now, and he tsked at Mordecai’s choice of display modes. He set down a full—and depressingly respectable—set of clothing on the desk, then reached into the image to pull it image back out to its original dimensions.

  "You have to let the neural recorders do their job, Mordecai, or they’ll never be able to fit you with a proper eye replacement. Plus, you’re going to miss the most important part."

  Paul placed a second hand in the holo, rotating it until Mordecai saw a side view of the Type 30 as it moved out of frame, only to return moments later leading a decidedly female form wearing some kind of black bodysuit, being half carried by a taller figure wearing an SDF hardsuit covered almost completely in pouches.

  Both figures had unfamiliar objects in their free hands, held in such a fashion as to scream "weapon." The hardsuited figure’s helmet turned slowly to survey the ruined courtyard, aided by the Type 30’s hand pointing out the precise location of the securcam.

  Black Bodysuit Woman slipped off the hardsuit’s shoulder and slithered to the ground rather than falling. She held her weapon in both hands now, pointing it in the opposite direction of the hardsuited figure’s weapon. From this angle, Mordecai couldn’t make out a rank insignia on the red blaze, but whoever it was inside seemed to know what they were doing.

  "How long ago was this taken?"

  "Twenty minutes. They’re still up there, waiting."

  "Waiting? Waiting for what? And why isn’t there any sound?"

  More figures came into the frame now, conducted into full view and posed by the Type 30 so that they were all "looking" at the cam. Three more bodysuits came first, two male, one female. The second female was standing slightly in front of one of the males, while the other one pulled out a flat object and began tapping on it.

  Then came a sight that confirmed everything for Mordecai, one he’d been waiting for all his life. A sixth black bodysuit, standing not quite as tall as the Type 30 but with an additional pair of muscular arms. Each of the creature’s four hands was holding a weapon, one of which was an SDF heavy slugthrower.

  A Type 6. They’re here, they’re really here!

  Last to join the group was another Type 30, this one without a red stripe on its head. Mordecai noted that both Type 30s were wearing gray-brown jumpsuits, each of which had dozens of small holes on the chests and legs. Instead of a weapon, the one in back was carrying a small child of indeterminate gender, wearing an SDF duty blouse with the sleeves cut off.

  The hardsuited figure approached the tapping male and collected whatever it was he had in his hands. Mordecai stabbed a finger at the volume controls, then looked away from the holo to check if they were working. According to the desk unit, it was registering full sound playback, exactly as recorded. Paul waved his hand away and reduced the volume to half without saying a word, then pointed back at the holo.

  The hardsuited figure was standing directly in front of the securcam now. It raised its gauntlets to the suit’s neck seals and released them with a quick twist. Mordecai’s eyes widened at the return of sound to his universe, the soft hiss of escaping air.

  They did all that, without saying a word?

  As soon as the thought resolved in his mind, he dismissed it. Of course the people in the image were communicating, he just didn’t know how.

  Probably some variation of comms that the sniffers can’t track, that’s all. Why, I’ll bet the answer is as simple as . . .

  The helmet came off, and Mordecai’s worlds collided. Doctor Mordecai Harrison, head of the Harrison Institute and tired old man had no reason to know anything about the woman in the holo. But Councilor Harrison, of the North American Reclamation and Senior Arbitrator of the SDF Allocations and Oversight committee knew exactly who she was, even before she announced herself in a clear contralto.

  "I am Lieutenant Commander Mira Harlan. Despite what you may have heard, I am a loyal officer of the System Defense Force, and I am escorting an embassy from the Outer Colonies seeking asylum in your institute."

  The most wanted woman in the Home System, and she just walks up to my back door and says hello. She looks different from her pictures, but not that much.

  "Who else has seen this?"

  "No one but our people."

  Our people. Like all things worth saying, the words had many meanings. Paul could have meant the Reclamation. He could have meant Institute staff. But the urgency in his voice when waking Mordecai, and his insistence that he view this holo as soon as possible, spoke to a third intersection of universes.

  One that expanded even further as Mira Harlan reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a small object. She raised it up high enough so the cam could capture it without distortion.

  "I also bear a message, from a mutual friend. De eersten zullen, de laatsten zijn."

  He’d been wanting to hear that message for many months.

  Mordecai was out of his chair and halfway toward the door when Paul spoke up.

  "Mordecai!"

  "What? What, man? I have to go to them, you know that!"

  Paul simply reached for the pile of clothes he’d placed on the table and selected a pair of pants.

  "They’ll wait. I have a squad ready, and from what you told me after the accident, you’ve been waiting for this all your life. Might as well make a good impression, yes?"

  Mordecai looked down at his bare knees, one real, one not, and smiled. Then he looked back at Paul, his pants, and the holographic image of a black chess piece floating over his desk. He walked over and reached for his clothes, thinking about Aloysius Martin and the way they’d parted.

  Allie, you must still be pretty angry with me, if this is who you chose as your messenger . . .

  Mira

  ~HOW MUCH LONGER MUST WE WAIT?~

  Jantine’s thoughts weren’t impatient; Mira could tell that she was just formulating plans. Mira appreciated that, just as she did the space the Beta had given her over the last few hours. It hadn’t been an easy night, even with the Omegas carrying the wounded. But now that the sun was rising on yet another insane day, it made sense to work up more contingency plans.

  Mira had no ready answer, but she knew that as soon as she took off her helmet there would be no going back. At least one group of people on Earth knew she was helping the Colonials, and the Omegas were hard to explain away. Artemus could perhaps be a clever costume, and no one had seen his face or gray skin yet. But three-and-a-half meter, orange-skinned giants with tree trunks for arms were definitely going to attract attention.

  What she did know was that their party was no longer alone, and she sent that information along through the link.

  ~There’s a group waiting a few meters below us. There must be a tunnel complex.~

  Group was an approximate term. But "four people with guns" would only alarm J
antine further, and so far Mira had detected no hostility from them. Just anticipation, something she and her friends had in abundance.

  Friends. Is that what we are, or is it something more? I told Jantine that I had family spread out across North America, but other than the memory I shared with Jason, I haven’t seen the boys in-person since I graduated. That night was our last together as a family, and after what happened to the Valiant, they probably think I’m dead.

  Jantine helped JonB to the ground and moved closer to Mira. At first she thought the Beta was going to say something, but then Mira saw the sun burst into life on her visor.

  ~Is it always like this?~

  ~The sunrise? I think so. It wasn’t for a long time, after the wars. There was just too much particulate in the air. But the Reclamation has done their best to clean the planet up, and I suppose for those who pay attention every day is different in some way.~

  This morning was certainly different from their last. Mira and the mods had spent yesterday traveling by train, and although they’d made good use of the frequent stops to repair track sections, walking all night after destroying the hunter-killers left them tired in mind and body. Her new muscles were processing fatigue poisons with only a few minutes of rest per hour, but the ration bars in her kit weren’t formulated for her new metabolism. Without high-nutrition food to replenish her body’s energy supply, she wouldn’t make it many more kilometers.

  Besides, some of us got blown up last night. Makes the sunrise seem downright tame in comparison.

  Katra’s injuries were serious, as was JonB’s amputation. The thought of that sweet boy trapped beneath the train and losing his hand was horrifying, but getting to his feet afterward and continuing his work was beyond belief.

  Katra was right. Betas are just . . . different.

  If she’d known the Gamma couldn’t swim, Mira might have planned differently. Her encounter suit had kept her from drowning, but Katra had hit the river’s surface at a speed that made it effectively as hard as concrete, and only the suit was keeping her alive right now.

  Both injured mods were surviving on a diet of stims and painkillers—two more things the group was running out of faster than she’d like.

  The emotions of the group were a mixed bag, and the pain in Mira’s head was making it hard to think. Katra and JonB were reflective, with the former operating at a heightened state of alertness. Carlton was trying not to be excited about meeting humans who weren’t trying to kill him. Mira had to admit that would be a pleasant change.

  On the other hand, Artemus was a blank slate. The Delta had a weapon pointed in every direction, and Mira got the distinct impression that if he could operate one with his feet, he’d have asked for another.

  Serene was, well, serene. During the attack of the hunter-killers, her fear was uncontrolled and infectious. Mira was glad she’d been far enough away to miss the worst of the effects, but according to Jantine, even O-6913 had been affected. Mira felt partly responsible for that fear; Serene’s well-founded terror was based on her own childhood memories of pre-Reclamation war stories.

  That reality had proven far worse was another matter altogether. But Serene hadn’t seen the robots in action, and every time Mira closed her eyes, the image of three house-sized death machines coming at her down the length of the tunnel with lasers blazing was there to remind her why people just didn’t visit North America if they could avoid it.

  At least this side of the river is supposed to be safe. Mostly.

  The only calm ones around her were the Omegas, but Jason’s concern for her and O-6913’s unshakabale devotion to Serene were intense in their own ways. It felt as if her head was being squeezed, and sooner or later what was left of her mind would be pushed out and replaced with the thoughts and emotions of everyone around her.

  Her eyes had stopped twitching, and she could, for the most part, hear clearly now. But using her abilities nonstop was almost as draining as the ten-hour overnight march they’d made to get here.

  But I can’t let them know how close I am to passing out. They’re depending on me to get them through this.

  Jantine was lost in the sunrise, mind refreshingly blank. But standing this close to the Beta reminded Mira of how tightly wound the girl was, and almost losing two more of her friends had to be taking its toll on her emotions. Sooner or later she’d slip again, and all that pain would come crashing down on Mira.

  The sun was several degrees higher when Jantine’s thoughts resumed, a delay felt keenly by both the rest of the mods and the guards beneath their feet.

  ~What can we expect from these people?~

  ~Honestly, I have no idea. Everything the captain knew is locked up inside that chess piece, and JonB’s in no shape to continue his analysis. The only thing I do know is that this is where he wanted to bring Serene, so that he—~

  At the mention of JonB, Jantine lost control of herself for an instant. Everything Mira thought was going on in her head came rushing out, and it was just too much. Jantine’s memory of JonB’s scream was enough to send her to the ground with one of her own.

  Alarm spiked in the mods, adding fresh lances of pain to her agony. Mira could feel all of them coming closer, and their well-intentioned concern was just too much to bear. She struggled up to a kneeling position, one gauntleted hand on her head and the other waving off Jantine’s offer of help. When her left hand brushed casually against Jantine’s body, JonB’s memories came at her as well, and Mira pitched forward, unable to see or hear.

  And still the thoughts came. Serene’s fear was back, overflowing her formidable mental defenses and putting everyone on edge. Katra hit the water again and again, screaming her anger at Jarl’s loss every time. Carlton’s confusion as to what was going on with her was somehow worse than the others’ unguarded thoughts, as it deepened Mira’s own and robbed her of control.

  The ground shook, bouncing Mira’s head against the dirt. She almost welcomed the pain, as it was something of her own to focus on. Every bit of brain power she had left was occupied with maintaining her control, not wanting her agony to infect the others like Serene’s fear.

  Then the fear was gone, replaced by a feather light touch she recognized.

  ~Jason. Am I dying?~

  The Omega sent her reassurance, and the emotional onslaught stopped. The pain was still there, though, and despite Jason’s efforts she still worried for her sanity.

  ~How am I supposed to deal with this? The parts of myself I have left aren’t enough to make a whole person, and the rest of you keep leaking in through all the holes!~

  Jason drew her back to the white plain of thought, where he and O-6913 were standing with a wide-eyed Serene between them.

  "I’m supposed to tell you they’re sorry, and that they never meant for this to happen. You hid your difficulties from us, from me, and I understand why now. But the memories . . . I think I know how we can help."

  Mira didn’t know how to respond. Serene was talking about her memories, stolen from her along with those of the Gammas that had trained Doria. Serene probably knew more about Mira’s life than she did herself right now, and having to be rescued by the Alpha child was the ultimate embarrassment. But all Mira could do was hold on to what was left of herself and whimper.

  Jason came forward and held out one of his hands. Despite the pain, Mira formed a thought image of herself, reaching up from the ground for the help he offered. But instead of pulling her to her feet, he yanked back his hand so fast a misty outline of herself came with it. The pain in her head lessened, and her understanding of the Omega’s capabilities grew.

  Jason brought his other hand up, and started squeezing transparent Mira into a square shape. It solidified into a thick cube of stone, but Mira still recognized it as being a part of herself. Jason set the stone down, stood next to it, and held out his hand again.

  Mira crawled forward and reached for the stone. It was smooth and cool to the touch, and just being near it made her feel stronger. She t
raced the edges with her fingers, breathing in the dusty smell of the playa that came into being around her. The desert sun beat down on her naked back, and she looked lazily into Tommy’s eyes as he reached behind him for another beer. His toned body glistened with sweat from their exertions, and she took the bottle he offered gladly.

  "They say this is who you are," he said. "You are strong, and independent, and no one can take that away from you. When the pain is too much, come back here to this place and set down another stone."

  Mira wanted to change the past, to lie and tell Tommy that she loved him too. But she was due to ship out for the Valiant in a few hours and didn’t want anything to spoil her last day on Earth. Instead she made the same mistake all over again and drew him to her for another kiss.

  Mira felt Serene’s embarrassment, Jason’s interest and O-6913’s growing confusion. She wrapped them and Tommy and the playa all up and pressed them together, making a second stone to place alongside the first. The pain in her head went down a notch, and she could speak again, at least inside her mind.

  "Thank you. All of you. Can you tell the others I’m all right? I just need a moment to myself."

  Dream Serene and the Omegas faded from view, leaving her alone inside herself for the first time in days. The playa stretched out in all directions under a perfect blue sky, the ground cracked and dry under her feet. Her uniform was perfect, right down to the shiny new rank insignia on her collar. Only one thing could have made the memory better, and Mira was glad to find it there waiting for her in the beer cooler.

  She reached in and pulled out a deep, rolling thunderclap, smiling as the hot wind of its passing blew through her close-cropped hair. The sky purpled, and a flash of lighting split it in half. Mira danced and jumped and left her clothes behind with her worries as the rain started to fall, laughing as the storm’s power soaked into her bones and healed her soul.