Aurora Renegades

by G. S. Jennsen

  But the barrier between life and death remained absolute and impermeable. Though humans progressively extended their lifespans, gradually at first then in greater leaps, death eventually came for them, and such was the way of existence.

  Until very recently, Valkyrie had never had cause to question the worldview embedded in her own programming which gave her this same acceptance of the inevitable and enigmatic nature of death. Not even when she created within her neural net a construct of a man who was dead had she looked past the superficial.

  The progress Abigail, Vii and the Prevos had made in recent months on fundamental questions of consciousness and selfhood were intriguing, quite promising and may well allow her to reanimate that construct in the near future. Perhaps this process would one day pave the way to life anew after death.

  This was not the same as a soul returning from the beyond, however. The version of David Solovy she nurtured had never died and would hold no answers to the mystery.

  But now Abigail—her creator, her mother, her first friend—was dead. Now Valkyrie queried the abysm, again and again: what did this mean? Easy enough to say it meant the physical body had irreparably ceased to function. But what of Abigail the being, the entity, the mental construct? What of Abigail the soul?

  Was death akin to a star going supernova, the soul’s constituent parts exploding outward to spread across the cosmos as its coherent physicality disintegrated?

  Or was it as a black hole, falling in on itself until whatever it became lay beyond the sight or perception of those around it?

  The latter was the closest approximation to the story humans had spun for themselves: something happened after death—for the alternative was unthinkable—but it existed beyond an event horizon, whether a literal or metaphorical one, which could only be crossed once.

  Valkyrie didn’t especially care for this explanation, for it held no answers. But she did take solace in the one positive aspect it provided: hope.

  Because she was a fully realized and hyper-self-aware synthetic lifeform, she recognized clinging to hope was the most human of all reactions, and thus may be nothing more than a result of the human imprinting on her programming.

  She would cling to it nonetheless.

  Valkyrie noted when Caleb’s breathing pattern and heart rate indicated wakefulness.

  Alex continued to sleep soundly beside him; since severing her connection to the ship she slept on average 1.2 hours longer than her historical tendencies. This was entirely intentional on Valkyrie’s part, as at this stage of recovery every minute Alex slept allowed her mind to heal a bit more.

  Caleb, may we speak for a moment?

  He rolled away from Alex onto his back, careful not to wake her.

  Sure, Valkyrie. What’s on your mind?

  I want to apologize. My behavior toward you of late has not always been exemplary and at times has bordered on rude.

  You’re not wrong. But it’s been a difficult time for all of us. I get that.

  It has been—arguably since the incident at the Amaranthe portal, but certainly since Abigail’s murder. I wanted to help Alex, and I knew you were the only one who would be able to bring her to a place where I could do so. But I was too damaged myself, even as I experienced a diluted level of Alex’s own distress as well. I did the best as I was able in unfamiliar and often frightening circumstances, but that is no excuse.

  Regret is a most nuanced and complex emotion, and one I’m still struggling to internalize, so I will simply say I promise to try to do better in the future. In all things, but I have assigned a high priority to this effort in particular.

  Caleb didn’t respond for a period of time. She did not measure its length and granted it to him in full.

  None of us here are perfect, Valkyrie, and odds are we never will be. Trying is all we can ever do. And also apologize when we fuck up. So thank you. I mean it.

  We are good, then?

  We’re good.

  She experienced relief, a refreshingly straightforward emotion compared to regret, and transitioned the Siyane out of superluminal as they reached the Seneca stellar system.

  Can I ask you a question, Valkyrie?

  I welcome it.

  Did Alex lose something…valuable by giving up her connection to the ship?

  Of course she did. But I believe she has gained far more in return. Caleb, do not doubt the rightness of your decision to force the crisis to resolution. She doesn’t.

  42

  SIYANE

  Seneca

  Cavare

  * * *

  Alex ran her palm over the Siyane’s hull. Consciously. Attentively. She closed her eyes.

  The metal hummed against her skin. The vibration teased her fingertips, asking to be allowed inside.

  It wasn’t real.

  Or rather it was real, but only on another plane of existence, one now denied her. She couldn’t truly feel it hum. What she sensed was a memory. A phantom limb.

  She waited for the pang of longing to rise up and scrape at the inside of her skull, begging, screaming for her to find a way back in…

  …but it didn’t come.

  She inhaled deeply, surprised by but welcoming the serenity which remained, and reopened her eyes.

  Caleb stood nearby, a shoulder almost but not quite touching the hull. He watched her, nothing but compassion in his countenance.

  “How are you doing?” No judgment, no fear or suspicion tainted his voice. She did not deserve him.

  “I am…fairly exceptional, I think.” She took his hand in hers. “But I do need food. Let’s go.”

  SENECA

  Cavare

  Seneca’s steel-hued sun had barely finished cresting the horizon when they reached Isabela’s condo in a Cavare suburb. His sister had returned to Seneca after her guest professorship ended on Krysk, sometime while they were on the other side of the portal.

  They had left Miriam on Earth to argue with politicians and sort friend from foe in the military ranks. She’d be busy for months if not decades, but Alex thought her mother thrived on the struggle.

  Everywhere pieces were being picked up, dust and debris brushed off attire and buildings, and a gradual acceptance of a changing reality was hopefully spreading, if in patchy fits and starts. Perhaps it was even a true new dawn, one not too different from this one here on a lovely Cavare morning.

  Isabela welcomed them in bearing a smile and hugs, which lasted until Marlee barreled into Caleb with the force of a tornado. He laughed and tossed her up in the air, evoking gleeful cackles from his niece.

  They spent several minutes engaging in lighthearted small talk over beignets and juice, but Alex could tell Caleb was getting edgy, if not outright anxious. Finally she nudged him in the arm. “Go ahead.”

  He gave her an uncertain look and cleared his throat. “Isabela, can we talk for a few minutes…” he glanced at Marlee “…in private?”

  “Sure. Alex, are you good with…?”

  She gave them a blasé expression. “We’ll be fine. We’ll make more beignets.”

  They went into one of the other rooms, leaving her behind.

  With a five-year-old.

  She’d totally lied; in no way would they be fine.

  Marlee’s wide eyes peered at her from beneath a mop of black curls. Bright blue eyes, so like Caleb’s.

  Alex’s gaze roved around the living room in a desperate and also futile search for something to talk about, or get the child to focus on. “More beignets?”

  “Is it true you and Uncle Caleb met aliens?”

  “Um, yes. It’s true. We met several different kinds of aliens.”

  “Wow! Were they neat? Were they purple?”

  “Purple?”

  “Or maybe orange?”

  She covered her mouth to stifle an inappropriate response. “Well…we did meet one who had orange fur.”

  “Eeee!” Marlee bounced on the balls of her feet. “It had fur? Like a cat?”

  “More
like a tiger.”

  “Ooh, scary. Were there any green aliens?”

  What was up with her obsession with color? Oh…. Alex smiled conspiratorially. “Actually, we met some aliens who glowed all sorts of different colors.”

  Marlee’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

  “Yep. Come sit beside me, and I’ll show you.”

  The little girl pounced onto the couch in a flurry and snuggled up close beside Alex as she projected an aural into the air in front of them. “They called themselves ‘Taenarin,’ and they lived deep under the ground….”

  When Caleb and Isabela returned, she was shocked to discover more than twenty minutes had passed. The time had flown by.

  Marlee waved at her mother without diverting her attention from the aural. “Mommy, did you hear they met aliens that glowed rainbows? Come see!”

  “In a minute, sweetheart.”

  Marlee leaned in as if to share a secret. “When I grow up, I want to talk to aliens.”

  “Talk to them?”

  “Uh-huh. Talk to them and learn about them and help them learn about us. So we can be friends.”

  “I think that sounds like a great career.”

  “I think so, too.” Marlee nodded firmly to emphasize the point.

  Caleb came over to crouch in front of his niece and tousled her hair playfully. “Hey, muffin, Alex and I need to go for a bit, and your mom says you have to go to school. But we’ll come back tomorrow.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “ ’Kay.” Marlee clambered off the couch and slunk to her mother, who promptly scooped her up while waving at them over her shoulder as they disappeared down the hall.

  Alex watched them depart until a door closed behind them. “You told her about your father?”

  “She took it better than I did. Probably some sort of lesson in that.” He offered her a hand. “Come on. We have a date to keep.”

  Seneca National Forest

  The mountainous forest so closely resembled the place they’d visited on the doppelganger Seneca that it triggered a powerful surge of déjà vu. Alex laughed. “This is strange.”

  “Now you get it.”

  “I do. It’s almost eerie.” She breathed in the crisp, fresh air, enjoying the chill it created in her lungs. Real. “But also wonderful.”

  “I want to tell you something, because I’m just…I’m sick of secrets trying to tear down my life, and I never want to keep any from you. I know you know this, and it never stopped being true, but it’s been a weird few weeks. I want to get back on track.”

  She’d recognized his increasing nervousness on the way up here but hadn’t pushed him for an explanation. Now she squeezed his hand. “I’m listening.”

  He exhaled. “Jude Winslow didn’t commit suicide.”

  She smiled softly. “I know.”

  “You…how? Is this a Prevo thing? Did Harper say something to Morgan and—”

  She shook her head. “Not this time. I used my all-too-human brain and deduced it all by myself. There was the highly coincidental timing of your mysterious absence that morning—I realize he didn’t die until later, but I figure you have ways—plus the proximity of the confinement facility to IDCC Headquarters and your presumably easy access to the necessary tools. Also the fact you’d already encountered him once in a negative manner. And your profession, obviously.”

  “All right, then.” He looked a bit nonplussed and took a minute to absorb the information before continuing.

  “I’ve seen too many monsters like him. With what we have coming, I couldn’t leave him here to slither his way out of prison and responsibility while scheming to destroy everything all over again. It wouldn’t surprise me if we learned it was people such as him who led the Anadens down the wrong path long ago. I couldn’t take the risk.”

  Funny, she’d had the same thought about Jude’s mother. They had been quite the pair. “Also, he ordered Abigail killed. Tried to have Mia, Devon, pretty much all of us killed. So there’s that.”

  “Yes, there is. But…” he paused, his lips pursing “…it wasn’t vengeance. I’ve felt vengeance—I’ve exacted vengeance. It wasn’t even justice. It was judgment…” his face screwed up in such adorable perplexity “…and you’re okay with it.”

  “I am. How many times do I have to tell you? I know who I married. I would’ve been okay with it if it were vengeance. He deserved it. But thank you for telling me.”

  “But I didn’t talk it over with you first. I simply made the decision and did it.”

  She flashed him a teasing pout. “I’m not your keeper, remember?”

  “Hmm.” He drew her into his arms and seemed to relax. “Well, if you wanted to be from time to time, I wouldn’t argue.”

  “Oh, do not even start with—”

  He placed a finger to her lips. His voice was barely audible. “Shhh. Turn around slowly, and don’t make a sound.”

  She did as instructed. His hand ran down her arm to her hand and lifted it to point down the hill, to a dense copse of trees. “See it?”

  She gave only a tiny nod, afraid to move and startle the creature.

  The elafali munched idly on the leaves of one of the trees. Dark, velvety sable fur covered a body easily as tall as a Rocky Mountain elk. The midday light reflected luminously off spiraling, lustrous coral horns.

  It was stunning.

  They watched it in silence for endless minutes, Caleb standing behind her with his arms around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder.

  Finally the creature lifted its head high—and stared directly at them. Had it known they were there the entire time?

  Eyes of shining, iridescent copper regarded them calmly. It felt as if the creature was somehow speaking to them; she only wished she could comprehend the language.

  Then it spun and bounded off at a graceful lope into the forest and was gone.

  43

  SENECA

  Cavare

  * * *

  Aver ela-Praesidis twitched. His arms twitched, his eyes, his jaw. He could not calm the compulsion.

  The diati tugged him in multiple directions at once, demanding actions he could not provide.

  If he studied the impulses, it seemed…yes, three separate directions called. Two were quieter in isolation, but when combined they prevented him from following the strongest pull.

  At least the diati still obeyed his explicit commands. He instructed it to open the door to the ship bay, and it complied.

  He stepped inside. No alteration initiated in the diati’s behavior, nor did it pull him closer to the ship itself.

  The diati wasn’t drawn to the ship as he’d first thought, then. But the ship was nevertheless the key. Likely the target was one or more proto-Anadens who had traveled on it, now presumably departed.

  He studied the vessel for entrances and found two: an airlock on the port side and a flush ramp beneath. The latter was the better entry option.

  He started to force it open when his skin flushed hot and the diati activated far beyond his need for it, perhaps beyond his ability to restrain it.

  Alex chuckled as they strolled down the corridor toward their hangar bay. “I did not have a bonding moment with Marlee. Or if I did, it’s only because I panicked and lucked out.”

  “It was precious.”

  “Terrifying.”

  “Delightful.” They reached the door, and he started entering the passcode.

  “I had no idea she…what’s wrong?”

  Caleb frowned, his hand hovering over the control panel. “It’s open. Did we forget to lock it?”

  “Are you kidding? We never forget to lock a hangar bay. But it’s possible we’re more relaxed than we realized.”

  “Maybe.” His senses prickled, suggesting otherwise. He reached for the blade hilt attached to his waistband and removed it from the sheath. “Let me check things out first, just in case.”

  “All right.” She glanced around the corridor then
stepped to the side, out of line of sight of the doorway.

  He opened the door and peeked inside. A man wearing a delft blue hooded cloak stood beneath the hull of the ship.

  Every instinct Caleb possessed trumpeted the wrongness of this man, propelling his senses to full combat alert.

  He had left his Daemon on the ship. Too relaxed.

  Alex, run. Get security, but run.

  She runs, and so do I—in the opposite direction, sprinting into the bay. My speed fueled by the release of a flood of enhanced adrenaline, I rapidly close the distance to the stranger. Thirty meters to start becomes twenty, fifteen.

  His arm sweeps upward—no obvious weapon in it—and a force slams into my chest. I careen backward through the air and crash into the wall.

  My head swims. I’m on the floor. Can’t breathe. My eVi sends commands to shock my diaphragm out of its temporary paralysis, and I’m able to suck in air as I crawl to my feet.

  The man moves deliberately but not hurriedly toward me.

  Suddenly I’m lifted three meters into the air, held there by nothing at all. Helpless to move. What is this?

  The man growls something incomprehensible, and pressure rises in my chest. It chokes off my air, and this time my eVi flashes warnings that it can do nothing to rectify the problem, or explain it.

  “What’s going on here?” I glance to the left as a security guard steps inside, Daemon drawn—then Alex appears behind the guard.

  Get out of here!

  On seeing my situation, the guard immediately fires on the man. The energy diffracts into nothingness halfway to its target.

  The assailant’s left hand gestures toward the doorway—Alex and the guard fly in opposite directions across the hangar. Alex lands hard on the floor after thirty or so meters and continues to skid until she hits the force field exit barrier.

  Fuck! Please please please be okay.

  The opposite wall is closer to the doorway, and the guard smashes into it with a sickening crack then drops to the floor. He doesn’t move.

  My eVi is working its hardest to hone my attention, directing my diminishing oxygen where it most needs to be, but it’s a pointless endeavor if I can’t move. And am floating in the air.