Nomad: Freedom Is Never Free

by Todd Brill

  “Is it okay if we just call you Hiyadi for short?” asked Nomad, chuckling.

  He had heard of androids on Earth from science fiction books and shows but had never dreamed he would meet one in real life. True, artificial life. Modern humans had been experimenting with implants and there were some who could be considered cyborgs, but that was relatively simple compared to constructing a fully autonomous android.

  “Of course. And you are?” replied Hiyadi, his face immobile.

  “This is Danik,” replied Nomad, indicating Danik across the table. “This is Yola. And my name is Nomad. Pleased to meet you, Hiyadi.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you all. I just arrived here 1.3 hours ago. This place intrigues me. Where is it? What world is this?” asked Hiyadi.

  “None of us are really sure,” said Nomad, “We’ve all just appeared here. The Leader of this world is fed up with all these people appearing on his planet, though, and is forcing us to work on building something to stop it.”

  “Fascinating,” said Hiyadi. “Nomad, I do not require organic substances for energy. Since you appear to require energy for repairs you may have mine.” He pushed his tray of gruel and bread over to him. Nomad chuckled and touched his bruised arm.

  “Thanks, Hiyadi. I’ll put this…energy…to good use,” said Nomad. “Are all the people from your world androids?”

  “That is correct. We were once a race of organic beings not unlike you. We evolved our technology and began to incorporate devices into our bodies over one hundred years ago. Those advances allowed our scientists to discover how to suspend an organic brain inside a fully autonomous android body that had much more efficiency and resilience to damage. Now, we use advanced genetic techniques to reproduce a unique organic brain cluster, which we then graft into an android chassis. Our scientists are working toward creating a fully cybernetic brain, but it may be some time before that is possible.”

  “But then you won’t be a person any more. Wouldn’t you just be a machine?” said Nomad, sucking up the last of Hiyadi’s offered gruel.

  “That is one way of looking at it,” said Hiyadi. “However, our view is that organic life is but a complex machine of interconnected organs. Each cell in such an organism is constituted of particles of matter that can be found everywhere in the universe: carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and so on. And so it is with our bodies. We have decided that evolution is the preferable means of replication when no other knowledge exists to improve upon it. But once our scientists understood certain concepts, it became clear that in order to improve our species, it was necessary to take a more direct approach to our own evolution. And since the universe is a dangerous place to explore, it was clear that our bodies would need to be more robust than simple organic matter in order to survive.”

  “Very cool,” said Nomad. “I bet you live a long time too, right?”

  “The word ‘long’ is relative, Nomad, but our android bodies live far longer than our ancestor’s organic bodies. Under ideal conditions and with proper energy supplies, our brain cores can survive approximately 300 years. There is some recent evidence that this can be increased with certain chemical additives and extended indefinitely once we discover the means to produce a fully cybernetic brain.”

  “Impressive,” said Nomad. What would it be like to live forever?

  “What about things like emotions?” asked Danik. “I know robots don’t have empathy or emotions like people do, what about androids?”

  “Danik, I admit that our android bodies shield us somewhat from the outside environment and that can lead to a certain… intellectual distance or coldness if you like. But I assure you, we are just as capable of emotions and empathy as anyone else. There is considerable debate about whether this would continue if we were to adopt a fully cybernetic brain, however.”

  “That remains to be seen,” replied Danik coolly. “Come, Yola. It’s time for work.”

  “Awwww…” said Yola as she jumped down from the bench seat. “Bye Mister Hiyadi and Nomad.”

  “Have a good day you two,” said Nomad as he finished the last of the gruel and bread. He grabbed their trays and prepared to leave. “You too, Hiyadi. Welcome.”

  “Salutations, Nomad. Best wishes,” replied Hiyadi.

  That evening, Nomad was surprised to enter Jorune’s hut and find several others sitting on the dirt floor surrounding Jorune. She motioned for him to come in, her energy telling him everything was okay.

  Tired and still sweating from work, Nomad sat down with the others, wondering what was going on. Jorune stood and addressed the small group.

  “Welcome everyone. Let’s get started. We don’t have much time. Our timeline has accelerated, unfortunately. I’ve learned that the Leader is planning the power-on ceremony next week. That means they are months ahead of schedule on the project and we still aren’t really ready. Harvith, what have you to report?”

  A tall, lanky alien with dark-brown skin and sunken eyes stood to address the group. This must be Harvith. He had dark bags under his narrow eyes and wore the same gray robe and translator all the prisoners of the camp did. He looked around the group, his face impassive.

  “The power components are in place now; they just need to be connected. Ulitenth’s group is completing the final access hatches and tunnels and they have a New One who has made significant progress in the wiring of the control decks and slave modules. They say he’s an android and I’ve learned his name is Hiyadi,” he said.

  “I met him this morning,” added Nomad. “He seemed nice enough.”

  “Nice or not, he has been helping them a little too much,” replied Harvith, frowning at Nomad. “At his increased pace, he has struck weeks or perhaps months off the construction schedule.”

  “This is Nomad,” interrupted Jorune, “my assistant and personal representative going forward. All of you would do well to get to know him, for he will be instrumental in the success of our plan. I would like to go over that plan again since our timeline has changed, and this will bring Nomad up to speed. Harvith, if you would please continue?”

  “Okay,” began Harvith, drawing a crude map in the dirt at everyone’s feet with a small twig, “here’s the prison grounds. Here’s the work site and gates. The gate area here also has an exit for the guards. Other than scaling the energized fence, it’s the only way we have of escaping the prison area. Reveer and Fulsum are assigned to the strike team since their assigned gate is closest to the guard exit.” Harvith nodded to two other aliens standing nearby.

  Reveer was a small, thin alien with brownish skin, a large pig-like nose, and small, beady black eyes. Fulsum was small and squat with pale, pink skin, pronounced ridges on his forehead, and tiny rounded ears. Harvith continued.

  “Just after the morning work siren, Reveer and Fulsum will subdue the two gate guards, take their kit and keys, and use the guards’ exit to hide the bodies. Our second team will follow behind once the gate is secure. Both teams will then proceed to the guardhouse where any guards will be subdued or trapped until we can make good our escape. Any questions so far?”

  “Who’s on this second team,” asked Nomad. Harvith looked annoyed.

  “Pretty much everyone else,” he replied. “Any other questions?”

  Harvith paused and looked around at the group. Nobody spoke so he continued.

  “Okay. There’s only one checkpoint after the guardhouse where any remaining guards will need to be subdued. Our informant on the outside has told us there’s usually only one guard at that checkpoint. Once clear of the final checkpoint, you will have to run about five miles or so before you will be in the city proper. Cover is light in the scrublands outside the camp, but use what you can to stay hidden.

  “I don’t suppose I need to say this,” he continued, “but if you’re caught it’s likely they’ll torture you for information on our group and plans. Tonight is the last time we will meet until the escape next week.”

  “I have another question,” said Nomad.

>   “Yes, Nomad?” replied Harvith, rolling his eyes.

  “What’s the point of escaping? I mean, where do you plan to go? We’re all from different worlds and we have no resources to go anywhere. And anyhow, we don’t even know where we are.” Harvith looked back over his shoulder at Jorune. She nodded.

  “We have a member of our group who has access to the secret control modules at the core of the shield project. On the day before power-on, these critical components will be installed, but our compatriot will steal them thus rendering the shield inoperative until replacements can be made and installed. This will stall the Leader’s plans for weeks and allow us to recruit and train operatives on the outside. We have very reliable intelligence there is mounting opposition to the Leader on the outside. With some luck and good planning, we hope to be able to assassinate the Leader and free the prisoners of these camps with the help of these rebel elements.”

  “Okay, but I don’t understand what happens after that,” said Nomad. “How does this get us home again?”

  “We don’t know, Nomad,” sighed Harvith, his shoulders slumping. “The truth is we just don’t know what happens after that. We just know we need to stop the Leader and get out of this death camp and we need a chance at returning home. Staying here as slaves only results in our deaths, especially once the shield project is operational. Once the shield system is complete, they have no further use for a slave workforce and will most likely terminate us all. If we can free ourselves, we might be able to find a way home in time.”

  “I will brief Nomad personally after this meeting,” said Jorune quietly. “Does anyone else have any questions?” The group was silent. Nomad could hear they were nervous and afraid. Most of them were suffering from near-starvation and borderline dehydration. He didn’t think it was likely their plan would succeed.

  “All right then. Six days. Just after the gates open. You all know what to do. We’ve been planning this for months now, so there shouldn’t be any surprises. Good night and bless you all,” said Jorune. The others got up and began leaving in ones and twos so as not to arouse the guards.

  Harvith was speaking quietly with Jorune when Nomad approached.

  “This is a late addition, Jorune. He’s a wildcard,” Nomad heard him say emphatically.

  “He’ll be fine,” she said in a firm, commanding voice. “Now leave us.” Harvith turned and saw Nomad. Frowning, Harvith nodded curtly and left the hut into the cold evening.

  “I don’t think Harvith likes me,” said Nomad, shaking his head. “I just worry about those people following a plan that might not work. And what happens even if the plan works? Everyone wants to go home, but I didn’t hear a plan for that.”

  “Don’t worry about Harvith. He’s a project manager. Those types worry about everything and nothing. Listen to silence. Clear your mind, Ted. Are you ready to train?”

  “When were you going to tell me about this plan of yours?” said Nomad, ignoring her attempt to redirect him.

  “When the time was right,” replied Jorune. “When the timeline got pushed up, the time became right. I know your heart, Ted. I also sense that you will be key to the success of this mission. I need your help. We need your help.”

  “Are we both going then?” said Nomad. “What about the others? I’m… I’m not sure I’m ready to leave right away.”

  “It’s Danik isn’t it?” said Jorune quietly.

  “And Yola,” added Nomad. “They both mean a lot to me, Jorune. I love Danik. I can’t just leave her here to die. And what about my friends? Telarch and Hiyadi?” Jorune sighed.

  “I understand. But know this, Ted. There is no way we can guarantee this plan will work. Nor can we guarantee any one of us will survive. Are you prepared to watch your loved ones or friends die on this mission?” she said.

  Nomad thought about it. They either die in the camp or they die trying to be free. What did they have to lose?

  “They’ll have to choose for themselves,” he said. “It’s only right that they at least have a choice. I’ll protect them the best I can.”

  “Oh? Well then, for the next six days, we will be training your body and mind for combat, Ted. We have six days to make you ready to face death. Are you ready?” He nodded. “Good. Let’s begin.”

  11

  He hurt all over. Every fiber, every muscle pounded with a dull ache. He could barely move his wrists properly. Jorune had been brutal and unrelenting in her pursuit of his martial training.

  Nomad still couldn’t believe this supposedly crippled old alien woman was a martial arts master and mystic -- or that she was his mentor. Teaching him things. How to listen to everything around him and how to kill people with a stick or his bare hands and feet.

  He had taken some karate back on Earth when he was a kid. Before he left. His dad forced him to take it. He said it would build character. What did his father know about character? The jerk took off on them with some woman a little over a year after enrolling him in the Chito-Ryu Karate Academy.

  But now, Nomad was in the best physical and mental shape of his life. Near starvation and heavy physical exertion left his body lithe and sinewy and muscular. The pain he had now was from Jorune’s corrective strikes, not from the physical exertion itself. His bruises had bruises, he would tell Danik.

  “Are you sure she’s not going to kill you?” joked Danik quietly as she snuggled into him just before first light. Nomad winced while she squirmed against him.

  “Sometimes it sure feels like it,” replied Nomad, “but I’m getting better. She doesn’t hit me quite as often as she used to.” Yola was beginning to stir, so they kept quiet and just enjoyed their bodies pressed together in the burgeoning dawn light.

  Nomad listened to the silence. He let the dark sea envelope him. The swells of the sea were in Danik’s slow, even breathing beside him. The tides were his own thoughts ebbing and flowing. He relaxed and let the sea rock him back to sleep for a short time before the morning siren jolted him awake but he still felt the silence and comfort of the dark sea.

  That evening, Jorune was waiting for him outside her hut. She stood with eyes closed, leaning on her crutch. Nomad could feel she was listening and could see the blue nimbus of energy surrounding her. It cradled her like a child holding a kitten — a little awkward, but trying to be careful.

  She was the only person he saw that had this blue energy. He had practiced looking at others and listening but nobody had that kind of energy except her. It was almost like her fingerprint — unique to her. And certainly no one had such an intense and powerful energy as Jorune. Others’ energies were dim — hardly noticeable sometimes. Passive. Ethereal. Jorune’s energy was obvious. Active. Solid.

  “You have it, too,” she had told him once. “It’s the result of listening. Only those with the gift can see it or feel it. With enough practice, you will be able to sense it at a greater distance. It’s like a call or pronouncement. It says, ‘I am listening’ but only to those who are themselves listening. It lets us recognize each other. Everyone’s energy field is slightly different too, so you can learn to recognize someone by it. I’ve been told my field looks like calm, swirling blue waters. Your field looks like pale, silvery-white snow.”

  “Where does it come from?” he asked.

  “From us. It’s our energy. We are born with it. It is said some masters have been able to see the connection of their energy with others and with matter and energy itself. Everything is connected at a certain level. The universe gave birth to stars that, in turn, gave birth to all living things. So from a certain viewpoint, we are all connected to the universe, matter, and energy on a very subtle level. Our cells are made from the matter created by dying stars. The energy we produce is extracted from the matter created by those same stars. It’s this connection that allows us to exploit our connection to other people and things. It allows us to do things most others can’t because they don’t understand this fundamental truth and don’t have the skill or training.”

&
nbsp; Nomad became quite adept at sensing others’ energy fields. He practiced with a dedication born of the desire to be free. His only hope of escaping the camp to freedom with Danik and Yola and the others rested on his ability to use his powers. Even while he worked in the labor camp, he practiced listening.

  He could hear the busy sounds of the camp, the banging of equipment, the sizzle of energy discharges, and the grunts of the physical laborers as they worked. If he focused, he could do his work and allow the sounds to fade into the background. Then, he could sense where people were and what their surface emotions were.

  Telarch was anxious, busy, and angry. Yola was scared and worried but fascinated. Danik was determined, stoic, and lonely for him. He could sense the tension in the guards. The only person he couldn’t feel everything from was Hiyadi. But since he was an android, it made sense. Only Hiyadi’s brain was humanoid and Nomad was certain it wouldn’t give off much emotional energy. But even with just an organic brain, Nomad could still feel Hiyadi’s presence, just not his surface thoughts and emotions like the others. An android is still connected to the universe in the same way a flower or a car was — they were all made of matter created in the universal furnaces they called stars.

  A guard interrupted Nomad’s practice just then.

  “You. Come with me now,” said the guard grabbing him roughly by the sleeve with long, lanky, gloved fingers. Nomad shifted his weight slightly and pulled his arm away.

  “Where are you taking me?” he replied, putting down his tool and looking at the guard coolly.

  “The sergeant wants to talk to you. Let’s go.” The guard motioned toward the gates and Nomad began walking to them. What could this be about? Did they know about the group? Did they know about Jorune and what she was training Nomad to do? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything good. He wished he could somehow send a message to Jorune or Danik to warn them.