Remember the Starfighter

by Michael Kan

  Julian pointed down at the pods, letting his finger wander, but said nothing. He paused, wincing, like he was trying to recall something.

  “I think it was that one. Or that one,” he said, pointing to a pair of pods. “I basically lived in one, piloting and doing training simulations all the time. I about wanted to kill myself.”

  It did not seem like a pleasant memory. Yet in the face of what seemed to be pain, the pilot merely laughed.

  “Doesn’t seem so bad now,” he said, shrugging. “For a time, this place was home.”

  The pilot moved on, rising from the ledge to walk onward. He smiled, perhaps reminiscing.

  “I guess I remember more than I thought,” he said.

  ***

  The holographic projection displayed the alien in a virtual outline, the image depicting what had long ago become relic — the physical form of a Kilanthian body.

  Arendi had pulled the graphic, upon accessing the base’s public database from a terminal inside an office room. It showed a being measuring over three meters in height. She had never seen anything like it before, the features almost bizarre. To her, the body resembled more like a mass of flesh, propped up by thousands of thin fibers that covered its underside. Notable were three large crevices at its mid-section, the holes functioning as both lungs and audio receptors, according to the diagram.

  “There are no Kilanthians left?” she asked.

  The pilot sat in a chair nearby, looking through the base’s equipment roster for any sign of a viable hyperspace drive.

  “No, not anymore,” he said. “Although, they’re still around. Just not physically.”

  He swiveled his chair over and inputted the commands into the terminal. “They’ve joined our good friends,” he added sarcastically.

  The projection before Arendi altered and displayed a text-based history of the Kilanthians.

  “They left this colony 322 years ago,” she said, reading the data. “They no longer identify themselves as the Kilanthians, but as part of the Ouryanic Collective Union.”

  “They aren’t the only ones to join,” the pilot said. “Hundreds of races have supposedly converted.”

  During her time on Alliance Command, she had read about the Union and its influence. Public records had described the intergalactic group to be the largest within the Alliance, covering a diverse range of alien species. What they had common was that they had discarded their bodies, in favor of a more “advanced post-organic existence” inside a virtual world. It was not a foreign concept to Arendi, she herself being a product of complex programs simulating consciousness. But the scale of the Union transcended anything she had encountered, the sum of which of equated to a universe all to its own.

  “Why do they join?”

  “It’s a question everybody asks,” the pilot said, sliding back into his chair.

  “Some say it’s like paradise. Like heaven. You can have everything you want. And yet, you don't really need anything. It’s a higher form of understanding. It’s supposed to be indescribable. ”

  “But others say it’s a sham,” he went on. “A hive mind that reduces individuality, locking the consciousness to some alien entity. People just become servants. Slaves maybe. I don’t know… You basically have to abandon your body to join. Sounds like death to me.”

  “You do not approve?”

  “I can’t say I’m a fan. Especially since one of their kind is after us. They’re more dangerous than I thought.”

  Listening to the pilot, Arendi had to ask. “Have humans ever joined the Union?”

  The question left the pilot in pause. Arendi saw the man’s expression, the response taking more time and energy than either expected.

  “Some,” he said, sounding reluctant. “Many actually.”

  “It’s a way for people to preserve something before they die. They can choose to at least replicate their consciousness into the Union, hoping a part of them will survive. At the very least, there’s no war in the Union.”

  The pilot returned to the base’s equipment roster, prompting Arendi to continue on with the images. She cycled through the data on the Kilanthians, the history of a former people flashing into existence with each formation of the pixels.

  “Captain Nverson. What of this?”

  She pointed to the projected image. It was that of a ship, elliptical in design, and covered in regimented plates of what looked akin to golden glass.

  “Is that Kilanthian?” he said.

  The data cycled through the vessel, and others of its kind, all built in similar fashion. He could see battleships, freighters, and typical transports.

  “Could it be possible that some still might be on the planet?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t recall...”

  He went to the terminal, and looked at all the relevant data. It offered a summary of the Kilatnthian fleet, stating that it had once spanned thousands of ships. But cryptically, the data only revealed that the vessels had since been “retired” following the conversion of the Kilanthian people.

  “The data lists nothing else,” he said. “Although maybe... some might still be around. We just need more information.”

  “Where would we find that?”

  The pilot had an unconventional answer.

  “I guess we need to pay a visit to the Ouryan Union,” he said. “I don’t know any Kilanthians. But there’s something I can try.”

  Arendi was confused. The Union was their adversary, the very enemy they were hoping to avoid. She saw the pilot’s indifference, and wondered if he was making a joke.

  “Remember what I told you about the Union? About preserving something,” he said. “Well, I did it too. Six years ago. I’m betting there’s a part of me still there. ”

  Chapter 33

  Even after three centuries, the desert had yet to fully claim the megapolis, a castle-like settlement that still reigned over the terrain. The database had identified the location as the bygone capital of the colony, a place that stretched out for miles. But the city had long become a ghost of its former self, the shadow and darkness of the buildings immune to the system’s white sun. Julian flew the planetary shuttle to one tower in particular, the only building still active in the abandoned city. It had been designated as an official gateway to the Ouryan Union, fashioned in a manner that looked closer to a gothic temple. In reality, it functioned as a powerful communication relay, fitted with direct access into the Union’s virtual world. The Kilanthians had left it behind, wanting a way for any remnants of their kind to reach them.

  Perhaps they wouldn’t mind if a human borrowed it, Julian hoped. He vacated the shuttle, with the android at his side, touching down on the sandy floor to the gateway. As expected, it was a vacant room, and hardly insulated from the planet’s thinning atmosphere. The brown dust wafting before them had decayed any decorative stylings the room once possessed, leaving the confines derelict like a tomb. Julian coughed hard, and strapped the environmental mask over his face.

  They approached the center of the area, noticing that a single blue light hung in the air. Julian recognized it as a standard Ouryan beacon, their would-be gateway. He went to his communication band, and typed in the protocol.

  “I’ve confined our signal to an encrypted code. It should keep us anonymous,” Julian told the android. “Any sign of trouble, and I’ll disconnect.”

  The beacon reacted, rising higher in the air. It spun, and flashed its blue light upon them.

  Welcome. The Ouryanic Collective greets you. May the Unity serve your request.

  The orb initiated its universal protocol, eventually tuning its configuration to human users. It spoke in an angelic voice, as its blue light flickered like a flame.

  “Locate Terran posterity ID for Julian M. Nverson,” he said.

  Commencing... Located. The member requests your identity.

  “Tell him... it’s urgent. I need to speak with him now.”

  The orb processed the order, even as Juli
an refrained from revealing too much. “Just tell him, it’s me,” he conceded. “The real one.”

  After a few seconds, the orb responded, filling the room in its holographic blue light. A haze of virtual pixels scattered through the air, only to eventually gyrate in waves and coalesce. They merged into a vague figure that stood before them, its body still like a cloud amid the tossing lights.

  “Can it really be?” the voice said.

  Fully formed, the figure was not just a man, but a mirror image of Julian imbued in blue. The hologram approached, walking casually over the worn floor. In response, Julian briefly took off his environmental mask, and revealed his face in full.

  “I thought you might be dead,” the holographic figure said.

  “So did I,” Julian replied, strapping back on the breathing mask.

  They paced around one another, looking at the differences. The virtual Julian appeared notably healthier, dressed in a simple, but elegant shirt and slacks. He showed no sign of the military life, but only comfort; his hair allowed to grow past the military regulations, his face cleanly shaven. But it was more than just imitation, the voice and walk so similar to the real Julian. Even the eyes and expressions had life to them, as the smile grew across the virtual being’s face.

  “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

  The original Julian nodded. Rubbing his chin, he couldn’t help but feel he was viewing a more refined version of himself.

  “Sorry, but this isn’t a social visit. I need your help, and I need you to be discreet.”

  “If you can’t trust yourself, then who can you trust?” the figure grinned.

  “Long story short. I’m back on Gamma Dyrannus III, but without a ship,” he explained. “All SpaceCore vessels are gone. Is there any chance a Kilanthian ship is hanging around, one that I can get access to?”

  The virtual Julian raised an eyebrow, cocking his head at the unusual request.

  “Interesting, I assume you’re on a mission. I’ll have to check. This will take a moment.”

  The hologram stood happily, smiling to his creator. He then shifted his gaze, and saw the android only a few steps away.

  “Who is this?” the figure said. He walked closer to her, and could only guess he was staring at a mysterious companion, one’s whose face had been fully concealed behind plates of metal.

  “Is this Evah?”

  “No,” Julian said, shaking his head. “It’s someone else.”

  Still curious, the virtual Julian extended out a hand.

  “I’m his counterpart,” he said to what he thought might be a woman. “May I see your face?”

  The android paused, before pulling back the armor. The metal retracted, revealing her eyes, cheeks and lips.

  “My name is Arendi Soldanas,” she said.

  “I see.”

  The virtual Julian paced back to his maker, still smiling, but disappointed.

  “I’m sorry, I had hoped it was Evah. I never met the real her.”

  Julian felt uneasy. “We’re not together anymore,” he said.

  The figure nodded, understanding that perhaps the notion was naive. “I’m sorry. We... Or I felt deeply about her. I suppose it’s what you wanted to remember when you created me.”

  “Well, I never thought we would actually meet.”

  “Nor did I.”

  Julian glanced back at the android, feeling the need to explain.

  “It was six years ago when I preserved myself in the Union. I did it sort of on a whim. I didn’t really think too much—”

  “You were afraid,” the virtual Julian interjected. “It wasn’t just on a whim.”

  The hologram protested, shaking his head at the real Julian. “You don’t remember? The Battle of Orion. Seven of our comrades died in that engagement. It was then, that you decided to make an actual will in case of your death.”

  “You’re right. Was it Drayden that recommended it?”

  “No. It was Evah. She insisted. It was a long and tough talk.”

  Julian was surprised. Not only did the replica of him know his memories in detail, but he spoke of them with confidence.

  “You had originally felt preserving yourself in the Union was silly. That to even think about death was counterproductive.”

  “I guess I did get scared,” he replied. “I was only 23 at the time.”

  The real Julian took another uncomfortable look at the virtual him. “Yeah, this is really awkward,” he said. “I just thought you would be more like a standard A.I. I didn’t know the Ouryans could take it this far, and give you my personality.”

  His counterpart raised his two hands to shrug.

  “It is strange. I am supposed to be you, in every way. But still, it’s awkward knowing you’re pretty much a clone, when the real you is off somewhere.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ve had it easy.”

  “Yes, I know. I saw the reports years ago, saying you were dead. It creeped me out.”

  Julian smirked. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine. Rejuvenated and back in uniform. I’m even a captain now.”

  “Then you reached your dream. Our dream.”

  “My dream?”

  “To be a starfighter captain. To fight for the galaxy. How do you not remember?”

  The virtual side of him stood confused. What he spoke of should have been shared knowledge, the memories so obvious.

  “Well, I don’t know...”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? You willingly joined the Core. To travel the stars, and defend humanity. We were idealistic. You wouldn’t give up. You believed in the cause. To protect Haven, and to stop the Endervars. It’s why you joined SpaceCore in the first place.”

  “I did? I thought I was just drafted, like everyone else.”

  “No, you were so driven. You willingly submitted your enlistment, despite your family’s wishes. We were young, rash, not even adults. But we knew the importance. Someone has to defend humanity.”

  Julian closed his eyes, not sure what to say. His virtual counterpart could tell something was amiss.

  “Are you okay?”

  The real Julian still said nothing. He remained lost in his thoughts, scavenging for whatever scraps of memory he could recall.

  “Do you regret preserving yourself?” his virtual side asked.

  “No. It’s just... A lot has changed in six, seven years. You remember things a bit differently than I do. The things you say… I don’t know if I recognize myself.”

  The hologram understood, realizing that the years had indeed passed.

  “A part of you will always be preserved in the Union,” the figure said. “I will not change. But even the Union is not truly real; I am not truly real.”

  “Well, you seem happy. I suppose it’s paradise over there.”

  “No, no. It’s because you were happy. I am a projection of you. Or what you once were. I am just happy you are fighting on. You are still a starfighter. Doing what you had once, at least wanted.”

  Julian subtly shook his head, feeling both doubt and wonder. Incidentally, he saw the android in the corner of his eye, and noticed her human face. It reminded him that there were still more urgent matters to attend to.

  “The Kilanthian ship,” Julian said. “Have you found anything yet? Can you help us?”

  His virtual counterpart nodded. “I pulled a few favors, and managed to secure this transport for you. It’s located several kitacs away. I’m sending you all the relevant data to your communication band, including access codes, and instructions. I’ve already sent out the activation sequence.”

  Julian looked to his wrist, and saw that the data transfer had already begun. “Thank you. This is tremendous.”

  “You’re just thanking yourself,” his replica said.

  The virtual figure then flinched.

  “Ah I see... Unfortunately, we won’t be able to talk much longer. The Ouryan authority is, for some reason, trying to infiltrate our meeting.”

  “Are they mo
nitoring us?”

  “Don’t worry, this is an off-the-record meeting. But they at the very least know you’re contacting me. It won’t matter. If needed, that ship can take you to the other end of the galaxy.”

  To emphasize that point, the virtual Julian lifted his hand to project the ancient ship among the holographic pixels.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t talk longer.”

  “No worries. Clearly, whatever you’re doing is far more important. I’ll always be here,” the replica said. “Your will is my command.”

  The orb of light gradually began to dim, as the holographic figure gave one final gesture. With his right hand, the virtual Julian saluted.

  “Don’t forget. Fly for Haven. Fight for Humanity,” he said.

  The virtual Julian then disappeared from view.

  ***

  For a moment, Julian wondered if they were in the wrong place. Sand and more sand surrounded their shuttle, with not a city structure in sight, much less a ship. “Where the hell is it?” he asked, looking over the data downloaded from his replica.

  Julian needed only to wait. While the planetary shuttle hovered over the desert, the terrain around them began to tremble. This, however, was no simple quake. A gaping hole steadily began opening beneath them, enveloping the landscape.

  A torrent of sand fell into the chasm, as the Kilanthian ship appeared from the pit and rose into the air. Julian quickly reached for the shuttle’s controls and moved their own craft away from the incoming ship’s ascent.

  Unlike the rest of the planet, the Kilanthian vessel had been immune from the wear and tear of time. It appeared like a giant egg, only made out of brass, the vessel’s shape and design nearly identically to the historical images the android had pulled from the database. Layers of sand poured down from its hull, the waterfall of red dust drifting into the wind.

  Julian inputted the access code through the shuttle’s communication array, and watched as the ancient ship opened its bay doors. Flying the shuttle in, he soon discovered that the Kilanthian vessel was essentially hollow. As he set foot inside, and walked past the hanger bay, Julian found it to be like a large domed coliseum, the enclosure inlaid with more gold.