by Paul Anlee
Darak was confused. “And how exactly do we know that?”
“Your powers are more than a match for anything either one of us could throw at you,” the Cybrid answered.
The front Cybrid moved a little closer.
Maneuvering for a strike, Darak assessed. He pointed to the Cybrid’s extended manipulators. “I’d prefer you retract those, please. I only want to talk.”
“I’m sure that you would,” the aggressor answered.
Stralasi detected hints of an odd accent in its Standard tongue.
“Those who are assured of victory always like to laud it over the defeated,” the menacing Cybrid said.
On the last word, the Cybrid bolted forward under rocket power. Its tentacles slashed and stabbed at the clear shell that maintained a breathable atmosphere around Darak and Stralasi. Its slithering metallic limbs drew into sharp edges with vicious points that could have gutted or speared an unarmored man. They bounced harmlessly off the protective surface of the sphere.
The Cybrid turned its propulsion ports toward the two men.
Stralasi got a brief glimpse of the hell-fires of matter-antimatter mixing in mutual conversion to pure energy before the reaction winked out.
“Sorry, I can’t allow that,” Darak said. He glanced at the second Cybrid and said, “Nor that.”
“Nor what?” the Good Brother asked. He hadn’t seen any threatening moves from the other Cybrid.
“She was attempting a suicidal mixing of her MAM engine fuel,” Darak answered. “The matter-antimatter reaction would have destroyed this entire array element.”
“So it is you,” the closer Cybrid said.
“And who might you be?” Darak asked.
“Alum,” the far Cybrid answered.
Stralasi’s eyes widened. Alum? Was that possible? Had he been traveling this entire time with the Living God himself? Should he fall to his knees once again and profess his ignorance, his sins? Maybe his knees weren’t enough. Maybe he should prostrate himself and grovel before the Lord. Beg forgiveness.
Darak laughed.
“What is so funny?” asked the Cybrid with the feminine voice.
“You two are,” Darak replied. “Do you actually think I am your god?”
“Who but God can move among the stars at will? Who but God can change antimatter into normal matter with a thought?”
Stralasi and Darak stared at each other, and Darak laughed again.
“Good point,” he said. “Who but a god?”
Stralasi felt his knees grow weak. He slumped and was about to throw himself to the ground when Darak answered his own question.
“A scientist, that’s who. I am no more your god than…than…than this man.” He pointed to Stralasi. The Good Brother’s heart skipped a beat.
“Scientist,” the Cybrid repeated. “That’s a term I haven’t heard in a long time.”
“It’s not in common use anymore among humans,” Darak agreed. “Few Cybrids call themselves anything but technician.”
“If not Alum, then who are you?”
Darak bowed, “My name is Darak Legsu. I am a wanderer, explorer and, yes, a scientist.”
“Darak?” the Cybrid repeated. “The name is familiar. Have we met?”
“It was not a common name when I first took it. Who might you be?”
“My name is Darya, and this is Timothy.”
“And this is Brother Stralasi, recently on leave from the Alumit,” Darak pointed to the Good Brother. “But if it’s not too much to ask, I would prefer your complete designation.”
The Cybrid hesitated. “So you can report me?”
Stralasi intervened, having at last remembered Darak’s battle with the Angels, his mission to oppose Alum’s Divine Plan.
“I can assure you, Darak has no connection to the Living God, other than to oppose the construction and operation of the Deplosion array.”
“You know what this place is, then?” Darya asked.
“I know the purpose of the array,” Darak admitted. “Despite Brother Stralasi’s support, I am still uncertain of my position with regards to Alum’s Divine Plan.”
“It is evil.”
“Evil is a strong word, a black and white word in a universe of color.”
“Nonetheless, it applies,” Darya insisted.
“Perhaps. We shall see. I take it you are not the Station Cybrid. I can’t imagine Alum appointing anyone with such beliefs to be in charge of an array element.”
“Long ago, Alum appointed me to build and maintain this place,” Darya confessed. “I’ve altered the original plans somewhat.”
“Somewhat,” Darak grinned.
“I also managed to find a replacement for my maintenance duties.”
“Impressive. Alum does not normally permit such unauthorized delegations.”
Darya bobbed in acknowledgement of the compliment. “I had more important things to attend to.”
“I would be honored to know your complete designation.”
“Surely, you can simply read it yourself.”
“I could. I do not like to invade minds when it’s not required.”
“When is reaming a mind ever required?” Darya’s voice conveyed her bitterness. Timothy made a noise that sounded like throat clearing.
“Ha!” Darak laughed. “I take it from your friend’s reaction you may have found something like that necessary yourself. Perhaps, recently?”
Darya chose not to respond to his baiting.
“In our travels from the frontier, we have visited a number of Cybrid stations,” Darak continued. “In order to disguise ourselves, I’ve had to interfere with perceptual processing. It was…an unfortunate necessity. Forcing your designation from your mind would be an indulgence, not a necessity.”
“Thank you for your courtesy,” Darya replied. “I will return the respect you have shown us. My full designation is DAR143147 and my friend, Timothy, has the full designation GER754738.”
“DAR143147?” Darak gasped. “DAR-K? Is it possible?”
In all their travels and adventures, Stralasi had never seen such surprise on the man’s face. He couldn’t help but ask, “Is what possible?”
“DAR-K,” Darak whispered, and then, “Kathy,” as if that explained everything.
27
“My name is Darya. Cybrid designation, DAR143147. Who is Kathy?”
“You are,” Darak answered, bewildered. “At least, at one time, that designation belonged to a Cybrid whose mind was templated on Kathy Liang.”
“I have no memory of a Kathy Liang.”
“Be that as it may, she was you; you were her.”
“I’ve always been Darya. I have a few memories of a Darak Legsu, but that was so long ago. They are an insignificant percentage of my total experience.”
“That was me, is me. I thought you were destroyed.”
“I feel intact. Complete. True, there’s a gap of some millions of years while I was inactive, but there’s very little missing in the memories I have.”
“Someone must have revived you, and tweaked your concepta and persona around the damaged parts. I can probably fix that.”
“I would prefer you didn’t poke around in my conceptual structures without my permission.”
For a moment, Darak considered doing exactly that, even without permission, but he agreed. He let go of his pain and his expectations. They could fix this. “Okay, until I have your trust, I will respect your wishes.”
“Thank you.” Darya’s voice was overlaid with a tinge of sarcasm. She extended a tentacle and pointed it outward. “Where have you moved us?”
She asked not how, but where—Darak noted. Which meant that the how—by Alum’s starstep technology or something related—was obvious to her.
“We are in ESO 461-36,” he replied.
“The Local Void?” Darya asked.
“Yes. Actually, I’m surprised it’s still included in your astronomical maps,” Darak answered.
“Becaus
e of the rebels of Eso-La,” Darya said. “It’s the only colony in that galaxy.”
Darak’s eyebrows arched. “That their existence hasn’t been purged from the historical record surprises me even more.”
“Officially, it was,” Darya replied, “Very long ago. I maintain my own separate archives.”
“I’m impressed. But then, you always did value your independence,” Darak noted, and smiled. “As well as your secrets.”
“Exactly how well did you two know each other?” Timothy’s voice, tense with confusion and filled with impatience, cut across Darak and Darya’s conversation.
Darak gave the other Cybrid a wary glance. “Your name is Timothy, yet your full designation begins GER.” He shifted his gaze back to Darya and raised a questioning eyebrow, “I’m sure there’s a story there.”
“A strange story of a Partial accidentally raised to Full, and a sad story of a fallen friend,” was all she offered.
“Someday you’ll have to tell me,” Darak replied.
“You could ask Shard Trillian.”
Darak’s face darkened. “Trillian was involved?”
“You know Trillian?” Timothy asked in a wary tone.
“We knew each other long ago. Not especially well, I’d say, despite working together on numerous projects.”
“You sound less and less like someone I should trust,” Darya said.
“Yes, I can imagine. Nevertheless, I’m likely the best friend you have in this galaxy.” His eyes narrowed. “That is, if you really are the DAR-K that I remember. Or Kathy.”
“I told you those names are meaningless to me,” Darya said. “I sometimes use ‘DAR’ but never ‘DAR-K’ or the other.”
“Hmm,” Darak frowned. “This is going to be difficult.” He passed a hand in front of his face, changing his appearance.
“Perhaps you remember this face.”
Instead of Darak Legsu, Greg Mahajani stood before the two Cybrids.
Brother Stralasi, momentarily forgotten in the three-way conversation, found his voice. “What magic is this?”
Darak/Greg grinned. “This is the face I wore when Kathy Liang and I first met.” He looked back at Darya. “Am I any more familiar to you now?”
“G-Greg?” The Cybrid’s voice faltered. “But, how?”
“Ah! A spark of recognition at last,” Darak said. “Not all of your earliest memories were damaged, I see.”
“What is going on?” Timothy demanded.
Darak/Greg changed his face back to the one Stralasi knew, and spoke tenderly. “I don’t know how I can convince you that I was once Greg Mahajani, Kathy Liang’s husband and friend of DAR-K, the Cybrid designated as DAR143147. I could tell you things only Greg and Kathy would know, but I don’t know how to select from so many memories. I don’t know which ones you have or haven’t lost.”
“Some memories may be less accessible than others; others may have faded. I feel complete, nonetheless,” Darya answered.
“You knew Greg Mahajani.”
“I remember working with a man by that name. He was a friend. He was also human. You may be able to look like him, but he’s long dead.”
Darak turned away in exasperation. His eyes implored Brother Stralasi for help.
The Good Brother’s brow wrinkled as he focussed on the problem.
“An interesting problem,” he began. He pointed a finger at Darak. “You claim you know this Cybrid but it has no recollection of you. Or rather some meager memories and recognition of your…uhh, let’s say, former face, but not enough to trust you.”
“She,” Darak corrected him. Then, in response to the uncomprehending look on Stralasi’s face, he explained, “She, not it. Darya is a she. Cybrids are people too.”
“Of course,” Stralasi corrected. “She has nothing but the barest recollection of you. You claim you were once married. At least, married to the human on whose mind she is based. You claim you can fix her apparent memory loss, but it would require some considerable trust on her part. A trust you have not yet earned.”
Darak frowned at him. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”
Stralasi could barely suppress his grin. “We can all agree you have abilities that rival Alum’s, yet you claim to be someone other than the Living God. None of us can verify that claim independently. Further, you claim to know something of Shard Trillian, who appears to be at least somewhat responsible for the evolution of the Cybrid, Timothy.”
“And you’ve neglected to mention that you’ve stolen one of Alum’s deplosion array elements,” Darya added. “If you’re not actually Alum Himself, you will have attracted a great deal of undesirable attention. For what?”
“I need it to generate a Reality Assertion Field large enough to shut off the Eater,” Darak replied, turning his attention back to the Cybrids.
“The Eater?” Darya involuntarily floated backward a meter. “I know this name but only the name, and a vague sense of astronomical threat. It is no longer mentioned in the official archives. What is it?”
Darak deflected her question. “Do you remember Darian Leigh?”
“I know the name; he is cursed by Alum.”
“Darian Leigh is inside the Eater. At any rate, his memories and knowledge are inside. The Eater was created by the ignorant abuse of a Reality Assertion Field generator. A colleague of Kathy’s and mine, a scientist named Larry who you probably don’t remember, trapped Darian inside it before it grew and destroyed Earth. Now, it’s out here.”
He pointed toward the north end of the asteroid. “About a light-week in that direction, less than one light year away from Eso-La.”
“It’s threatening another world?”
“Yes.”
“How can a deplosion array element help? And why have you brought us here?”
“Actually, I brought the deplosion array element here, which happens to be attached to this asteroid. I didn’t mean to bring you along with it; I didn’t know you were here. As for how it can help, do you remember anything of the Reality Assertion Field?”
“Other than the acronym, RAF, frustratingly little,” Darya admitted.
“The deplosion array is a huge Reality Assertion Field generator. The entire array can cast a field big enough to reach to the edges of the cosmos. The RAF is where my abilities come from. Alum’s, too.”
“Then it is the source of god-like powers?”
“Abilities,” Darak corrected. “The abilities are not magical; they stem from an understanding of the fundamental structure of matter, an understanding first achieved by Darian Leigh.”
“Teach me, then.”
Darak sighed. “I would teach Kathy Liang or DAR-K. I know who they are. I’m not sure who Darya is.”
“Impasse!” Brother Stralasi observed.
Darak glared at the monk. “You’re not helping.”
Stralasi bowed his head. “I’m sorry. Your power—your abilities—are incredible; from my perspective they appear god-like. Other than Alum, I have never known a mind so filled with knowledge; I can scarcely comprehend it. I feel little more than an insect before you. Yet you are stymied by a simple human emotion such as trust. The question is, how do two people—with a common opposition to a powerful foe but ignorant of each other—come to trust one another and move forward?”
Understanding bloomed on Darak’s face, replacing his anguish. “Trust is not automatic. It is earned. It grows.”
“Exactly,” agreed Stralasi. “It grows.”
Darak faced the two Cybrids again. “If you are opposing Alum and His deplosion array, perhaps there is something I can do to help?”
“You could return this asteroid to where you found it,” Darya suggested.
“As soon as I’m done with it, I’ll do that. I’d give you the means to contact me whenever you want.”
“An entangled communications unit could also be used to track me,” Darya pointed out.
“And…we are back to issues of trust,” Stralasi observed.
Darak pressed his lips together. “Is there something else I could do to help build that trust?”
Darya thought for a moment. There was something he could do to prove his worth and his integrity. “I have a friend who is currently being held captive inworld by Trillian. If you want to gain some of my trust, you could rescue her.”
Darak clasped his hands behind his back and paced a few steps. “It’s dangerous. I would have to expose my mind to the inworld. I’d become a target of Trillian’s wrath, and Alum would be certain to learn my true identity.”
“If you have god-like powers—abilities, I should say—then why don’t you just bring the entire recharging station here?” Darya suggested. “If its inworlds are disconnected from the broader net, Alum won’t know who’s responsible.”
Darak’s eyes brightened. “Where is this place?”
28
Mary didn’t bother opening her eyes when she heard the squeak of her cell door.
“Back for more?” she asked. Her lips curled up at each end.
Program Ouroboros initiated—her quark-spin lattice informed her.
“I’m so glad you find this humorous,” Trillian answered. “Perhaps we should try something new today.”
She allowed her eyelids to rise slowly. “Oh, I do enjoy new experiences.” Her voice was flat, without a hint of fear.
“There are worst places than this, you know.” His gaze swung toward the window, behind which flared the fires of Hell.
She suppressed a shudder. “Anywhere away from you would be an improvement,” she said. Wow, I actually meant that.
Trillian’s jaw tensed. “You try my patience, Mary.”
“And you’re a crushing disappointment, Trillian. I thought you were a holy man working in the name of God,” she said, defiance seething in her eyes. “Is this how God treats His people?”
“Do not presume to know God’s Will!”
Trillian waved his hand and the floor fell away beneath her, the psychological threat in the clear barrier beneath her feet was made instantly real. Despite herself, she cried out as she dropped into the gaping canyon. The wind tore at her cheeks as the rough, rocky walls flew past, out of reach.
She screamed not because she feared death. Escape by inworld death—whether temporary or a permanent truedeath—was too easy for Trillian. She screamed because she knew there’d be nothing but unrelenting agony at the end of her fall. She imagined her crushed and mangled body barely alive and in pain at the bottom of the canyon for days.