Dark Space: Avilon

by Jasper T. Scott

  His mind felt hollow—strange. Gone were all the endless, racing thoughts. He had no desires, no dreams, no triumphs or failures . . . and yet he remained, alive and still, watching the world around him in quiet indifference, waiting patiently for something—he knew not what.

  Welcome to the drone army, Bretton. You may step off the conveyor belt.

  A command. That was what he had been waiting for. Bretton turned and jumped off the moving belt. He detected other drones jumping off the belt all around him with a sense of awareness that went beyond what his light sensors could see.

  They’d all been with him aboard the bridge of a starship just moments ago. Now they were with him again, here, in this dark room. The nearest drone turned to look at him, light sensors glowing red in the dark.

  Bretton stood there, staring back at it, waiting once more, until the next command came. This time it was not given in words, but in a bright flood of awareness that filled him with drive and purpose. Suddenly he knew where to go, what to do, and who he was.

  He was drone number forty seven trillion, six hundred billion, four hundred and forty nine million, three hundred and thirty two thousand, seven hundred and sixty seven—drone seven sixty seven for short. Given his designation, he archived the less meaningful human name, Bretton Hale. He would never be allowed to use or recognize that name again. From now on he would go by his number. It made more sense, because it was more generic. After all, there was nothing to distinguish him from any of the others.

  They were all exactly the same as him.

  Part Three: New Beginnings

  Chapter 35

  One month later . . .

  Hoff stood with an untold multitude in the recently-repaired square around the base of the Zenith Tower. A bold, crimson sky stretched out above their heads. The Zenith Tower was a shining golden pillar to the sky, so tall that it seemed to go all the way into space. All around them decorative fountains cascaded, fans and jets of water shone like liquid gold in the light of the setting sun.

  Two enormous statues stood in the square, flanking a broad set of stairs that led up to the high double doors at the entrance of the Zenith. Both statues were made of gleaming golden metal. They stood facing the entrance of the tower. One of the statues was a drone, its spindly arms raised and palms outstretched to the sky, as if giving praise. The other statue was a human, an armored Peacekeeper with the flowing cape of a high-ranking officer. He was bent to one knee, head bowed in either penitence or reverence—Hoff wasn’t sure which.

  A month had passed since the battle. That was how long it had taken for Omnius to grow new clones for all of the Peacekeepers who had died in Dark Space. Now that all of them had been resurrected, they had been summoned to the square for a public audience with Omnius. Hoff’s skin prickled with the memory of his resurrection, of waking up to find himself trapped and floating inside a clone tube. Moments later he’d floated out, naked and shivering, into a vast clone storage room with a pair of drones on either side of him to help him to stand. Sedatives and human medics were a luxury only afforded to first-timers, to people who might freak out if they weren’t eased into their new bodies. And happy reunions in the sky were for newcomers to Avilon.

  For Hoff there had just been cold, unfeeling drones, and the echoing silence of the clone room.

  He forced himself to dwell on something else. Thousands of those standing in the square with him were also suffering from post-resurrection anxiety, but many more had been called away from their postings all over Etheria and the Null Zone to listen to Omnius’s announcement.

  Thunder rolled from the distant top of the Zenith’s spire, where the eye of Omnius gazed down on them, peeling away the lengthening shadows cast by Avilon’s sun. “Greetings, my children!” the thunder said.

  Standing at the top of the stairs near the entrance of the Zenith, was recently-resurrected Grand Overseer Thardris. He stood with his hands raised to the crowd, beckoning for silence. His shimmering white robe glittered with stolen strands of light from the setting sun, making him appear luminous and god-like himself. “Kneel before your god!” he said, his own voice booming almost as loud as Omnius’s.

  As one, the crowd of Peacekeepers kneeled and bowed their heads, mimicking the statue of the Peacekeeper in the square. Hoff kneeled with them, listening as Omnius spoke.

  “Dark Space is forfeit!” Omnius announced. “I had hoped to give everyone the opportunity to choose whether or not they would become immortal, but that option has been taken from us, so I have resurrected all the humans still living beyond Avilon, slaves and free people alike. The Sythians will soon discover this and realize that even though they think they have won the battle, they have actually lost. They no longer have any slaves, and from now on they will be forced to fight their own battles!”

  A cheer rose from the audience, everyone chanting—“Omnius grando est! Omnius grando est!”

  The thunder rolled on, “The Sythians fooled us, making us think they couldn’t see through our cloaking shields. We ran straight into their trap, but before we did, a group of rebel Nulls tried to warn us. It remains a mystery how they managed to escape Avilon and end up hiding in Dark Space. For obvious reasons, we did not trust them, but now even I see the error in that. Our petty infighting cannot continue! These Nulls, whoever they were, showed great maturity and wisdom by trying to warn us of the Sythians’ trap. They showed us that we can put aside our differences and fight the Sythians together, whether we are Nulls, Etherians, or Celestials. All of us have a common purpose and a common enemy! In order to fight them effectively, it is clear what we must do. We must stand united against our foe!”

  Hoff felt hope stirring inside of him. United? Was Omnius going to do away with The Choosing? Would he finally force the Nulls to join Etheria? Maybe he would even remove the shield walls and allow all three cities to coexist.

  “In the interests of unity, I am grounding the Peacekeepers indefinitely, so that they can live up to their name and preserve the peace within our three great cities. The Nulls have always needed our help to police their streets. Now they shall have it in abundance!”

  A more hesitant cheer rose from the crowd this time. Hoff’s brow furrowed, and he risked glancing up, squinting against the dazzling light shining down from the top of the Zenith Tower—the Eye of Omnius. If the Peacekeepers were going to be grounded on Avilon, how would they fight the Sythians?

  “While humanity focuses on ending its war with itself, the drones shall go forth and fight the Sythians. As the enemy’s fleets endlessly circle us, looking for a way to jump past our gravity fields, I shall take the fight to them, and this time, they will be the ones fighting for their homes!”

  More cheering. Hoff joined in, but his enthusiasm was curbed by the fact that he wouldn’t be there to watch as the Sythians were defeated. A small voice in the back of his mind chided him, warning him not to allow his actions to be motivated by revenge. His question was how—how could the drones succeed where their human commanders had failed?

  Omnius went on to explain exactly that, as if speaking just for Hoff’s benefit. “The drone fleet will fly from sector to sector, unleashing swarms of self-replicating nanites that will sweep across the Getties, disassembling alien cities and their inhabitants alike. Those that survive will be isolated in space aboard their fleets, cut off from their homes, and unable to ever return. As the Sythians slowly starve to death, the drones shall hunt them into extinction!”

  “Omnius grando est!” the crowd cheered.

  “Soon, my children, there will be no reason to hide here on Avilon, or to keep our population under control. Together, we shall rule not one world, but billions!”

  More cheering.

  “Go and be at peace my children! Blessings be upon you!”

  As soon as Omnius finished speaking, the crowd stood up with a ground-shaking clatter of armor and shuffling of robes. Hoff turned with a deepening frown to watch as the endless, milling crowds of Peacekeepers disper
sed.

  He couldn’t help feeling lost. The task of policing Avilon seemed insignificant compared with defeating the Sythians. Moreover, if it was so easy to defeat them, why hadn’t Omnius done it sooner?

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see none other than Grand Overseer Thardris himself.

  “Hello, Heston,” Thardris said, his burning silver eyes looking somehow clearer and more human than usual. “You must be taking this harder than the others,” he said. “You spent more time fighting the Sythians than most.”

  Hoff shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Nanites are the key to defeating the Sythians?”

  Thardris nodded sagely, as if that made all the sense in the world. “Is that so strange? Their technology is not as advanced as ours. It will be hard for them to fight a self-replicating army that is too small to shoot.”

  “How would we fight it?”

  Thardris shrugged. “Not easily. They’re a danger to us as well. The Getties will be off limits for a long time. The nanites won’t have sufficient intelligence to discriminate friend from foe.”

  “Why didn’t we send them sooner? Back before the war even began, before anyone had to die.”

  Thardris suddenly cocked his head to one side. “You doubt Omnius’s wisdom? If nanites had been set upon the Sythians sooner, they would have carried them to the Adventa Galaxy aboard their fleets, and destroyed the Imperium even more quickly.

  “Now that all of humanity is here, isolated on Avilon, we can be certain that the plague we are about to unleash won’t kill us, too. Omnius kept this weapon as a last resort for a reason.”

  Hoff shook his head. “I suppose it is a relief not to have to fight them anymore. . . .”

  “Indeed it is. The drones will handle the war from here.”

  “Why not us?” Hoff asked suddenly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Why aren’t we the ones delivering the nanites instead of the drones, or with them at the very least?”

  “We would be, if we still had a fleet capable of joining theirs in the Getties. Our fleet was annihilated in Dark Space. We sent every ship we had.”

  Hoff’s eyes narrowed at that. “Yes . . . that was foolish of us.”

  “We could not have known that the Sythians had developed the technology to see through our cloaking shields. In hindsight, we should have trusted those rebel Nulls, whoever they were, but it was equally impossible for us to know that they were on our side.”

  “I am surprised that even Omnius wasn’t aware their warnings were genuine.”

  “Nulls are nulls for a reason—to keep Omnius out of their heads.”

  “What about the Sythians’ human slaves? At the end, Omnius killed them all via their Lifelinks. Clearly they were still linked. Why didn’t Omnius read their thoughts to know that they could detect us?”

  “Heston, your doubts are boundless! Perhaps the Sythians didn’t fully trust their slaves, and only their commanders knew about the ambush. Do you really think Omnius would wittingly lead us to our deaths just so that he could resurrect us again here on Avilon?

  “I suggest you take care before you lose all faith and join the Nulls in their perdition. A strategian should know better.”

  Hoff’s eyes narrowed still further. He studied the Grand Overseer’s disapproving frown, and stared into his flickering silver eyes. After a long, breathless moment, he let out a deep sigh, and with it, he cleared his mind of doubt.

  Hoff bowed his head. “You are right, Thardris.”

  “Of course I am. One does not become the Grand Overseer by being wrong,” he said with an accompanying smile. He took a few steps forward and placed a hand on each of Hoff’s shoulders. “Omnius thinks highly of you, Hoff. Be sure you don’t give him reason to think otherwise. Come, it’s time to greet your family. They’ll be waking up soon.”

  Hoff’s gray eyes brightened at that, and his thoughts turned to his wife and daughter. It had been months since he’d seen them. “They died with the others? How do you know?”

  Rather than Thardris, Omnius was the one who answered, Were you not listening, Hoff? The Sythians left me no choice. Better that I should kill the human survivors and resurrect them here than allow the Sythians to keep them as slaves. Your wife and daughter are waiting for you. Go and see them and rejoice! The war is over. Humanity won.

  Hoff replied, We didn’t win. We all died.

  And yet you are still alive, and now none of you will ever die again. Even death has lost its sting! That is the greatest victory of them all.

  “Where are they?” Hoff asked, speaking to Thardris once more.

  Thardris cocked his head curiously to one side, and then he seemed to remember what they’d been speaking about and he pointed up.

  “Would you like me to take you to them?” he asked.

  Hoff nodded. “Please.” He followed Thardris up the stairs of the Zenith Tower and through the Garden of Etheria to the gleaming golden dome of the nearest quantum junction. A short jump from there took them halfway around the globe, straight up to the Valhalla, the massive resurrection-class carrier that spent its days flying endlessly around Avilon, chasing the sun.

  Hoff walked through the ship’s gleaming white corridors, following Thardris to the Hall of Eternity, a kilometer-long auditorium whose walls and floor were perfectly cloaked to provide an unobstructed view of Avilon. Tufted white clouds raced by under foot, their peaks lit to a glowing gold by the rising sun. They formed an endless carpet, stretching out to the horizon, broken only sporadically by the tops of Celesta’s tallest skyscrapers.

  Thardris guided them across the invisible deck to a vast sea of white-robed Etherians, all of them waiting for their loved ones to arrive. There were countless thousands of them gathered there. In the distance another multitude appeared, likewise clothed in Celestial whites, but these people were flying.

  They soared above the clouds at a fixed altitude above the cloaked deck, giving them the illusion that they were somehow floating above the clouds. In reality they were being guided toward their loved ones by thousands of grav guns.

  In the distance Hoff saw not one, but hundreds of hovering golden domes—the quantum junctions that had transported the resurrected masses up to the Valhalla for this reunion. Unlike the last time, when Hoff had come here to meet just a handful of refugee survivors from the battle over Avilon, this time there were millions waiting to be reunited with their loved ones. Absently, he wondered if the rest of the resurrection-class carriers had been launched for this reunion. Right on the heels of that thought was another one: why not use those carriers as the Peacekeepers’ new fleet? They were some of the largest ships ever built. Surely it wouldn’t take long to refit them for war.

  The answer came to Hoff moments later. Omnius’s tone was kind but firm. The Peacekeepers’ lack of a fleet is not the only reason they have been grounded. We cannot risk that any of the nanites be accidentally brought back to Avilon. The drone fleet I am sending to fight the Sythians will never return.

  Hoff replied, We don’t need to return either. You could resurrect us.

  My decision is final, Hoff. What is the difference if a drone kills your enemy or if you do it? I will tell you what the difference is. If you do it, you are there to watch them die. It feeds your inner savage. I do not want to see a million Peacekeepers leave for war only to come back as bloodthirsty warmongers spoiling for another fight. I will be forced to re-condition you all just so that you can go back to living peacefully among your own kind. Does that sound like it’s worth the trouble when I could just as easily use my drones to defeat the Sythians?

  Learn to fight for peace, Hoff, not for war. That is why you are called Peacekeepers in the first place.

  Hoff frowned, and he felt Omnius’s disappointment go radiating through him as a sweaty surge of anxiety that made him feel like he was crawling in his skin.

  Soon, however, he had other things to think about. His ARC display highlighted Destr
a and Atta among the many thousands of people in the sky. Hoff pushed his way through the crowd of waiting Etherians, making his way toward them.

  Destra and Atta touched down together, both of them holding hands and staring wide-eyed at the invisible floor beneath their feet. Atta was the first to recover from her shock. She looked up and saw him standing there. A broad smile sprang to her face.

  “Daddy!” she cried, and raced away from her mother to greet him. By now the air was filled with a roar of similar exclamations rising all around them as loved ones greeted one another in the Hall of Eternity.

  Hoff smiled and opened his arms wide for a hug. Atta ran straight into him, almost knocking him over.

  “You’re okay!” she said. “I missed you so much! Where have you been? You look different now . . .” she said, staring up at him and studying his face with her big blue eyes. “I like it,” she decided.

  “I missed you, too, sweetheart,” he said, laughing and tousling Atta’s long, dark hair. She didn’t look any different than he remembered her, but Destra did. She came stumbling across the invisible deck, shock etched upon her now much younger-looking face. She walked up to them, slowly shaking her head, her blue eyes wide and blinking.

  “Hoff? Is that you? You look . . .”

  “Younger?” He reached out and pulled her into his and Atta’s embrace. “So do you. No one grows old here.”

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it, Mom?” Atta said, looking up at them.

  Hoff smiled and withdrew to an arm’s length. He watched Destra look down and he saw her face grow pale. Clouds raced by beneath their feet, parting in cottony streaks to give a startling view all the way down to the gleaming spires and verdant green parks of Celesta.

  “Is this Etheria?” Destra asked in a small voice.

  Hoff beamed at her. “The real one, yes. You’re flying above Avilon right now. My old home.”

  “How? We . . .” Destra’s jaw grew slack and she appeared to stare off into the distance, remembering. “The last thing I remember was going into stasis aboard the Baroness. Then I woke up here, flying above the clouds. . . .”