Extinction

by Korza, Jay

  Bloom opened his eyes and had absolutely no idea where he was. Nothing was familiar to him until he looked up at the stars. He realized that he was on the same planet that he had been on for the past several months. The world looked completely different than what he had become accustomed to since their arrival. There were buildings, people, vehicles—a whole civilization. The people were obviously Nortes and he saw no other races mingled in with them.

  Bloom brought his arm to his chest and looked down to find that his computer was gone. He felt around his head and his visor was also gone. Bloom was clad only in his black field uniform. No weapons, no communication devices, nothing that was familiar to him. Bloom looked at the stars again. “I can recognize the constellations but without my computer I can’t calculate what year this is. It would take me years using pencil, paper, and a compass to figure out the year based on spatial drift between the stars, the planet, and its satellites. I would have to calculate the drift of stellar bodies in this region based on its location in respect to the center of the galaxy and any singularities close enough to affect the drift.”

  As Bloom thought about the monumental task it would take to figure out the date, the answers came to him. Numbers flew through his brain and the answers seemed to create themselves from the tangle of equations that flooded his mind. “Over one thousand years ago! That can’t be right. How could I have traveled back one thousand years? I wasn't near any alien equipment that could have created a wormhole. Not that I know of, anyway.”

  One thousand and twelve of your years, to be exact. And who said that you have traveled back in time?

  Bloom quickly turned around in place, looked up, looked down at the ground, and saw no one. “Who and where are you?”

  Hmmm, I really don’t know the answer to either question. I guess from your point of view, you could say that I am everywhere. As for who I am, I’m not sure that I am a who, not anymore, and maybe I never truly was to begin with.

  “OK, if not who then what? Are you some form of artificial intelligence?”

  I don’t believe that I am artificial in nature, not in the conventional sense, anyway. For now, let’s just agree that I am here just like you.

  “I guess that will have to do. But where is here?”

  Ah, now that I can answer. You are looking at the first and last installation of the Nortes Empire in this quadrant of the galaxy. The Nortes have been here for just over a year now. Things are going well, but soon they will change.

  “I don’t understand. The Nortes don’t have an empire. Not anymore, at least. What happened here? My government has limited contact with the Nortes but as far as I know, they only occupy one solar system in this galaxy. They never venture out of their system except for stuff like trade, education, and political reasons. We have no information about an empire.”

  Of course you don’t. They don’t want you to know about it. They don’t want anyone to know about it. Let’s move forward a little.

  The scene swirled around Bloom and as it began to slow down, he could see slight changes in the scenery. The buildings looked to be slightly worn down, there were fewer people in the street, and there were some other races mixed in with the Nortes. Bloom could identify a couple of them, most notably by the languages they spoke. It was starting to come together.

  “The races here represent the conglomeration of languages I detected in the alien writings I found in the ruins. The older races of the galaxy used to live together. Something happened that caused them to split.”

  Very good. Oh don’t worry, all of this tragedy that you see was a good thing. Or at least that’s what my friend told himself as he was carrying out the plan.

  “You were there? I don’t think you’re telling me everything.”

  I think you’re right. I’m not telling you everything. But I’m not holding back purposely. As I was talking, I suddenly had a flash of something. A feeling perhaps, a memory…I don’t know. I do know what I am here for, though.

  “I’ll take what I can get. What are you here for?”

  To tell the story of what has passed into history. To give information to those who need it. For those who will use it for the right reasons. I know what has brought you here and what you need. I will do my best to give it to you. I will do my best to help you.

  “We’re in my mind, aren’t we? That’s why I can’t keep my thoughts internal.”

  No, we are in my mind and I was not allowing you to keep your thoughts to yourself. I needed to know who you were and what you wanted. From now on, you may keep your thoughts to yourself. I will only be able to hear what you want me to hear when you think it.

  “Thank you. It may not be important to you, but it’s important for my people to be able to have personal thoughts while we work things out.”

  My people were not allowed to have personal thoughts. We were interrogated often to confirm our continued loyalty. Talking with you is helping me to remember things I have not thought of for centuries.

  “Where are you? If I am in your mind, where is your body?”

  I don’t think that I have one anymore, at least not a functioning one. It has been so long since I’ve even bothered to check in on my physical form. Now, let us get on with the matter at hand. It is time for you to learn what happened and what you must do to save your galaxy.

  Reaper

  “Clear!” The word sounded hollow to Reaper’s seemingly disembodied consciousness, though the meaning was completely solid in his mind. He had seen the actions that followed the word but had never been on the receiving end of what was about to come. He mentally braced for the two hundred joules of energy that were about to flow across his chest and through his heart; he didn’t feel a thing as he watched his body arch upward on the operating table. Apparently there were some benefits to being clinically dead, a lack of pain chief among them.

  “Results?” The doctor was looking towards the nurse attending the monitor.

  She smiled. “Sinus rhythm. We’ve got him back.”

  A corpsman spoke up from Reaper’s side. “Don’t throw a party yet; he still doesn’t have a pulse and his pressure is still gone.”

  Reaper wanted to scream, “PEA—Pulseless Electrical Activity! Remember your Hs and Ts, people!” But being clinically dead also had its drawbacks, not being able to speak chief among them.

  The doctor was a practiced trauma surgeon and didn’t skip a beat, absent though they were in Reaper’s chest. “Hs and Ts, people. We can rule out hypothermia, hydrogen ion, hypo or hyper kalemia, or toxins.”

  “Oh crap”, Reaper thought. “I’m in a teaching hospital. This should be interesting.”

  The doctor continued. “That leaves hypovolemia, hypoxia, trauma, tamponade, tension pneumothorax, and thrombosis. Most of these apply considering he was shot in the chest multiple times. We’re going to open him up and figure out the cause of the PEA. Keep strong and steady on the compressions while I get the chest tray.”

  Reaper could see the doctor moving the surgical kit labeled “Chest, Exploratory” from the shelf to the bedside table. As the doctor sprayed sterilizing iodine all over Reaper’s bare chest, Reaper decided it was time to check out. There was only so much his body and mind could take, and right now he knew he couldn’t handle the mental trauma of watching his own chest being cracked open. It was easier than he had expected, to remove himself from the here and now and drift back into the deeper recesses of his memories to a different time, a distant place…

  ~

  “Bryce! Get in here, now!” The voice that was usually so deep and soothing to Bryce was a cannon of anger today.

  Bryce walked through the kitchen door. “Yeah, Dad?” Trying to be light in his mood didn’t help the situation; his father just glared angrily at him. “Um, I mean, yes, sir?”

  Trying to suppress a portion of his anger before he spoke again, his father finally asked, “Can you explain to me why your little sister is purple?”

  Bryce could see his mother in t
he other room, purposely sequestering herself from the conversation, probably due to the fact that she couldn’t keep a straight face and was barely containing her hysterical laughter. Bryce caught himself as the right side of his mouth threatened to betray him with a smile as it began to curl upwards. Luckily, his father missed the almost-smile and Bryce got his face back under control.

  Bryce’s little sister Maya was in fact a fairly pretty shade of purple from head to toe. Maya wasn’t exactly sure what all the fuss was about. She was excited to show all of her kindergarten friends her new skin color; they would all be very jealous. Like a lot of Coalition schools, there were usually species other than humans in the classrooms. There were only a few humans in Maya’s class and they were all very jealous of the Trizites who could change color with their emotions. They would now be jealous of her new hue. Very exciting indeed.

  Bryce was twelve and a fairly smart kid. He tested in the top ten percent of his class in every area of testing. He wasn’t the smartest kid in his class but his parents knew they wouldn’t have to worry about him ever falling behind in his studies. He did, however, excel in his interest in medicine, following in the footsteps of his father.

  Bryce’s father was a trauma surgeon at a local hospital and often took Bryce to work with him. Bryce was always helping other kids on the playground, patching their scrapes and tending to their roughhousing traumas. Even though Bryce was pretty good with his basic trauma skills, he really excelled with internal medicine. He was always searching the Net for home remedies and folk medicine treatments from all over the Coalition. Bryce would often combine herbs and elements from different species’ remedies to create a new one that usually worked how he wanted it to. Rashes, hives, sore throats, colds, and various flu strains along with many other basic ailments were cured with his concoctions.

  There had been a few errors, to say the least, but nothing life-threatening so far. A few cases of projectile vomiting, runny noses that seemed to come from a never-ending sinus waterfall, unconsciousness, and one minor case of very ill-timed uncontrollable and unrelenting flatulence. Bryce’s mother always came to his defense, though, and pointed out that even with some odd side effects, everything he had set out to cure was in fact, cured.

  As Bryce stood in front of his father, he straightened up and walked in a slow circle around his sister and tried to act like an intern presenting a patient to their attending physician. “Sir, the patient is a five-year-old human female. Chief complaint consisting of chronic allergies of unknown origin. The patient’s history seems to indicate having recently moved to a new colony that is heavily populated with Trizites. There might be a connection to her allergies and a Trizite-centric material, possibly in the food or other commonplace item in the community.

  “Using this assumption along with the patient’s past history of allergies, I formulated a homeopathic mixture including some local flora and herbs along with a traditional set of human-based allergy remedies. The patient has responded well and most of her symptoms have subsided with a only few left that are significantly diminished.”

  Bryce’s father looked at him and he could tell that his father was trying hard to stay mad or at least look as if he was. “You still haven’t explained why she’s purple. Another one of your unexpected side effects?”

  Bryce tried to look wounded by the question. “Side effects? I don’t think I know what you mean, Doctor.” The look he received from his father made him quickly add, “Not a side effect, sir. The patient has been upset for the last week or so because her Trizite classmates can change some of their facial coloring almost at will. Some of the compounds in the Trizite diet are directly linked to their pigment abilities. I simply added a few local elements that I thought would give the patient a slight tinge of color to her face.” Bryce looked at his purple sister and waved his hand up and down her body. “I might have miscalculated the end results. Just a little. Sir.”

  Maya jumped up and down as she realized that her big brother had purposely turned her purple, as a gift to her. She jumped on to his chest and wrapped her arms and legs around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! How long will I be purple? Can you make me different colors? Can you make my friends different colors?”

  “No, he certainly may not turn your friends different colors.” Their father now looked at the two embracing siblings. He smiled; it was pretty great to have two kids who actually got a long so well. “Bryce, get your baseball uniform on. We need to get going if we’re going to get you to practice before it starts.”

  Bryce lowered his sister to the ground and just smiled before he ran out of the room. He knew that he had just barely dodged a lot of grounding from his father, possibly worse. As he left the room, Maya jumped into her father’s arms and started to talk about school and what she was going to wear tomorrow to show off her new color. Bryce came back just a few moments later and his sister was still babbling away. She was set down and then father and son left together, all trespasses forgot for the time being.

  As they left the driveway, his father mentioned that they would have to stop by the hospital on the way to the baseball field. His father had left his wallet in his locker and wanted to pick it up because he was going to be off for the next four days. Bryce was fine with the detour; he loved the hospital and they still had plenty of time to get to practice. They arrived a short time later and Bryce went in to the building with his father, saying hi to all of his father’s coworkers as they passed.

  When they were just about to the locker room, Doctor Wilson walked up to Bryce’s father. “Hey, Trevor!”

  Bryce’s dad turned to look at his colleague and friend. “I can’t, Tim. I’ve got Bryce with me and I need to get him to his baseball practice.”

  Tim looked at Bryce and then back to his father. “Look, Trevor, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t an absolute emergency.” Trevor looked at him sideways. “Okay, I would ask, but this is different.”

  “Tim, this is an emergency room. Newsflash—everything is an emergency. My son is more important to me than strangers I don’t know.”

  Tim looked a little shocked to hear the statement that almost everyone thought but there had always been an unwritten rule that it was never to be spoken aloud: the patients weren’t the most important things in the world. Tim looked at Bryce before addressing Trevor again. “You’re right, absolutely. Here’s the deal, though, we have a family of five that will be here in about”—he looked at his watch—“thirty seconds now. They all have major multiple stab wounds. We have the surgery department alerted and they are busy getting teams together for each patient along with getting the operating rooms ready. We just need you to help stabilize one of the patients until surgery comes down to grab him.

  “We’ve only got two trauma surgeons on right now. I’m sure we can handle it without you but it will be smoother with you. I’ll give you the worst of the five to make sure yours gets taken to the OR first and then you can get out of here. Twenty minutes tops, but you know in this situation we’re really hoping for less than ten minutes before they get hauled to surgery.”

  Trevor looked at Bryce, who just shrugged. “A whole family was stabbed; we should help them. It’s all right, Dad; you already said I was more important so you don’t have to feel guilty. Besides, I may be more important to you than the patients, but the patients are more important to me than baseball.”

  “You’re just saying that to get out of trouble for turning your sister purple.”

  Tim said, “What?!”

  Bryce, smiling from ear to ear, answered his father, “Maybe. But seriously, Dad, not really. Let’s help.”

  “Okay, Tim, let’s go.” Looking down to Bryce, who was keeping in step with the adults, “Do you want to watch or wait at the nurse’s station?”

  Perplexing question for Bryce. He was at the point that girls were starting to get very interesting and grown women were even more interesting. On top of that, the nurses seemed to adore him and he was guaranteed a lot
of hugs and kisses from them. On the other hand, with five simultaneous traumas, most of the nurses would probably be busy so he’d be stuck playing a game on a terminal or something, by himself most likely. “I’ll go with you, Dad.”

  “Sounds good to me. And remember, if one of the new interns messes up an IV, you need to jump in there and get it yourself to make them feel bad.” It was a fun game that Bryce and his dad played on the interns, something along the lines of, “See what you just screwed up? Now watch the twelve-year-old kid do it just right. Hey, no crying in the ER.”

  As they approached the trauma bay, Bryce saw that along with the ambulances that were arriving there were also several police vehicles. Cops usually showed up when there was an assault of some sort but he hadn’t seen this many before. As the first gurney made its way in, there were four cops surrounding it.

  Tim looked at Trevor. “I think that one is yours. The telemetry from the paramedics said the father was in the worst condition. That looks like him.”

  “Copy that.” Looking down at his son, he said, “There’s a lot of blood, Bryce; you know the drill. Gown up and put on all the protection possible: gloves, mask, goggles, everything.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bryce ran ahead and started pulling all of the protective gear from the dispensers on the side of the wall next to the trauma room. One intern passed by him and started to enter the trauma room without stopping. Bryce yelled at him, “Hey you! Yeah, new kid. You want Shirka Herpes or Mulvarian Hepatitis?! Put on your gown and stuff before you go in to that bloodbath.”

  The intern stopped and looked around him to see whether the kid was seriously addressing him. One of the nurses stopped at the dispensers and gave Bryce a quick hug and kiss before addressing the intern, “He’s right. Our safety comes before their treatment.”