by Michael Kan
It was then she looked directly at the figure, almost ready to say the words.
Professor, she thought to herself. Professor Arendi Miya Soldanas.
She glanced at the woman before her, half-hoping for a response. A ghost stared silently back, its legacy living on in the artificial body it housed.
“Am I disturbing you?”
She turned around to see Julian at the room’s entrance. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said concerned. “You still have my communication band.”
She looked to her wrist, and saw the device attached around her hand. “My apologies,” she said, slipping the band off, and placing it in Julian’s open palm. “I had forgotten.”
“No worries.”
As he placed the band around his wrist, Arendi noticed that the pilot’s health was recovering fast. In mere hours, his face was becoming less pale, the blue veins fading into his skin. Most of all was the energy in his voice, the wheezing in his breath lifted.
“We have about another day, before we arrive in SpaceCore territory,” he said, eyeing the countdown on the communication band’s display. “Delta Highron is just on the horizon.”
He then wiped his face, still somewhat fatigued. But not before, he shot off another glance at her, the question fresh on his mind.
“I’ve just been thinking,” he said. “My friend Landon. He said you could break the Endervar shield. Is this true?”
Arendi pondered the thought herself, thinking the answer to be already known.
“Break? No, I cannot. That technology was lost with my ship.”
“Yes, but Landon said you knew something. Something that could still stop it.”
Julian stared at Arendi hard. She could tell it was a plea for help. For anything.
“Theoretically, I may be able to penetrate it,” she said. “If only for a brief moment.”
“How?”
Arendi pressed a hand against her chest, signaling the answer.
“My power source. This suit, it is designed to manipulate enemy matter. It is how I was able to pilot my ship, and depart Earth.”
“Well, at least that’s something.” He said the words trying to cement them in reality, although the uncertainty was still there in his gaze. Julian then confessed.
“Listen, I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m not a scientist. Or a commander. I’m just a pilot.”
He cut himself off, feeling like he was uttering an inadequate apology. “But it’s my duty to protect you—”
“There is no need to explain,” Arendi said. “I understand.”
“No, what I wanted to say—”
“I trust you captain. I understand.”
She stared at him fully, her face no longer masked by metal, but open before him. Julian pursed his lips, and nodded.
“May I ask a question?” Arendi said the words, walking closer, her gaze both serious, and yet withdrawn.
“Sure.”
“It is of personal nature.”
He paused, surprised by the request. Julian motioned with a hand. “Go ahead.”
“The replica we met on Gamma Dyrannus. The replica of yourself. We’re you pleased with it?”
“Pleased?”
“Yes.”
He stuttered in his speech, still bewildered by the question.
“Well, he was very helpful. We wouldn’t be here, in this ship, without him.”
“But what did you think of him? Is he what you expected? Or do you regret creating him?”
Julian paced the room, unsure where this was going.
“I guess it’s good to know there’s a part of me that will always be around. Although I can’t really say if we share that much in common anymore.”
“You felt he changed?”
“Maybe it’s better to say I changed. Not necessarily for the better, it seems.”
It was a joke, but Arendi did not smile. Only grow more solemn and uncertain.
“Then perhaps the replica was not thoroughly accurate,” she said.
Julian shook his head. “No, it’s not that. He seemed … happy. Genuinely so. Or at least at peace. Like he belonged.”
He combed through his hair with his hand, realizing the conclusion he was about to make. “Maybe that’s what I wanted. I suppose that’s fitting,” he went on, with a sigh. “Why do you want to know this?” Julian then asked.
She raised her chin, and glanced at the ceiling above.
“It is ironic,” Arendi said. “Prior to meeting you, I had never encountered another human before.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “To be designed like a human, and yet to never have conversed with one. It is strange, I know. At times I have wondered what humans… what you, would be like.”
“It’s nothing special,” Julian said. “I’m probably not the best example.”
Arendi smiled in politeness, dismissing the modesty.
“Perhaps we share something in common.”
“What do you mean?”
She had been caught off guard by all the questions. Here, before Arendi, was an actual human, speaking and then listening to her every word. Once she had thought them to be elusive, humanity existing more like an abstract concept, a derelict if anything. But she had been wrong. They were not only real, but, indeed, she had been built with a part of them — her machine systems clinging on to that legacy, however flawed it may be.
“I am not just an android,” she said, feeling the kinship. “But I am based upon another specific human. My emotions, my personality are supposedly hers.”
She then stepped away from Julian and turned to the ship window, the reflection harboring her faint figure.
“I am an imperfect replica,” she added. “Of a woman who died eons ago. Her name was also Arendi Soldanas.”
***
The moment they exited hyperspace, the scans showed not one, but several starships, all in close proximity on the edge of Delta Highron.
The group of ships, moving in tight formation, closed in on their Kilanthian vessel, issuing a message on both universal band, and standard SpaceCore frequencies.
This is the S.C. Dauntless. Please state your identification and origin.
Julian was relieved. He quickly sent off his own response, explaining his rank and his request for assistance.
Now, in minutes, the Kilanthian ship would soon dock with the Dauntless, the military craft’s shadow beginning to envelope the alien vessel.
“You’re safe now,” Julian said, as he glanced at Arendi. He smiled, knowing it was no longer a false promise. Briefly, he even felt satisfied, thinking his task complete. But immediately, he wished he could take back the sentiment. This was no longer a simple escort mission, he thought. So many unknowns were still present.
“I’ll explain everything to them,” he said. “And with any luck, we can get in touch with the New Terran in contact. Hopefully, the fleet at Amredies Prime is still intact, somewhere.”
She stood nearby on the ship’s bridge, looking above at the projection along the domed walls. It displayed their position in the galaxy, Delta Highron one star, surrounded in darkness.
An echo then sounded through the bridge, followed by a sudden boom. The SpaceCore vessel had touched down, the mechanical gyros locking into the Kilanthian ship’s outer hull.
“More humans,” Arendi said. “More of your people.”
Julian heard the monotone words, unsure if it was a sign of excitement or fear. But in the days that had passed, the android had grown less distant, conversing with him more and more. He only thought of it now. But perhaps, there was a trust between them. As muted as it might be.
“Everything will be fine,” he said.
Arendi looked at Julian, and saw his hand placed out in front of her. Reaching toward it, her metallic fingers met with the skin of the Julian’s palm, her body rising as the two met face-to-face.
“I won’t be far. Just stick with me.”
Arendi nodded, pressing
her white-colored lips firmly.
In another echo, the Kilanthian vessel opened its doors to the incoming visitors. Soon the sound of human footsteps began filling the hallways of the ship.
Chapter 36
Julian and the android boarded the Dauntless, only to be taken further into Delta Highron and toward its red star. It was a sight absent of solace, a graveyard of manmade debris floating amidst the rings of stellar rock.
What was left of SpaceCore was on full display. He could see the damaged frames of so many other vessels, either still in repair or forced to be abandoned. Among them was the Infinity, or what had once been SpaceCore’s flagship. Over half a mile long, it had been known as the largest battleship ever constructed by Haven, its three massive N-canons pointing forward in a display of might. But now Julian no longer recognized the ship. Its body had been stripped down and cannibalized for parts, leaving only a discarded shell to lumber in space.
Behind the abandoned Infinity, floated the SpaceCore base, a facility designed for manufacturing and nothing more. This was no official spaceport, but an automated resupply station, commandeered and converted. With the backbone to Haven’s military machine effectively broken, SpaceCore had no choice but to rely on the last of its resources for refuge. Delta Highron was it — the final rendezvous point from which the military would send all remaining survivors on toward Isen.
“I wish things were different. Either way, welcome back.”
The man greeted Julian as he stepped on board the resupply base. A crowd of senior officers dressed in white uniforms were waiting for the Dauntless’s arrival. As Julian saluted the man, he recognized his haggard face.
“Colonel Righton,” Julian said, surprised.
“Good to see you again Nverson,” he replied, cracking a wide grin.
Righton reached to shake Julian’s hand, the colonel’s face still looking tired, but free of the beard he once had when last they met.
“We received you’re long-range comm as soon as it came through. Already sent a ship to Gamma Dyrannus to retrieve you, before you showed up. I’m told you came via a Kilanthian ship no less.”
“Yes,” Julian said. “Salvaged it on the planet. Came here as soon as we could.”
“Impressive, you’ll have to debrief us about that,” the colonel said.
Righton then turned away, as another man moved forward, provoking another salute from Julian.
“At ease,” the officer said, his voice like gravel.
Julian threw down his hand, noticing the wax-like skin across the man’s golden face. He did not stand, but sat, his legs housed inside a floating seat.
“Supreme Admiral Alvadan,” Julian said, nearly bowing as he said the words. “It’s an honor.”
It was the first time he had met the admiral, but Julian had seen his face on the news feeds and recruiting posters so many times before. Surgery may have touched up the skin, tucking away the wrinkles and injecting some color, but the admiral was unmistakably old — his face was completely hairless, the flesh thin and pressed up against bone.
The admiral let the hover chair ease him forward, as he creased a frigid smile. “We’ve taken a great interest in this mission of yours,” the admiral said.
He was about to respond, when he saw the admiral slowly raise a finger to point. “Ah, this must be the subject you mentioned in your message,” the admiral said, eyeing the figure behind Julian.
There Arendi was, curiously taking in all the human faces, her metallic suit standing out from the crowd of officers.
“Then it’s true,” the admiral said, his hover chair angling past Julian, as the other officers gathered near.
“Incredible,” he said, the admiral scanning up and down Arendi. “I never would have imagined.”
The murmurs continued, as the senior officers gawked at Arendi.
“Job well done, Captain Nverson,” the admiral said. “We will hold the debriefing immediately.”
“Yes,” Julian said. “It’s urgent I speak with you about the situation.”
“Good,” the admiral replied. He then motioned to several other officers standing behind them. Four men, dressed in black security uniforms, walked forward, hands firmly in place behind their waists.
“Escort the subject to the prepared security room,” the admiral ordered.
Two officers approached, moving to stand in front of Arendi. She watched them, nervous over what was happening.
“Julian,” she said, looking at him for an answer.
“It’ll be all right,” he replied. “They’re just taking you to a secure area.”
“What about you?”
“After the debriefing, I’ll meet you there. It won’t be long.”
“Very well,” she said. As the officers led her away, Julian watched unconcerned. He saw her depart, the security guards leading Arendi down an adjacent hall. She peered back one more time, her face entering and leaving Julian’s glance as she walked away and out of view. Next to him sat the admiral, the man’s stare following Arendi’s every step.
“Earth,” the admiral said. “She reaches out to us.”
***
It was a standard debriefing, but Julian was passionate in his plea.
“We have a chance to save Haven,” he urged. “Arendi possesses technology that could maybe help us penetrate the enemy shield. It’s imperative we contact the New Terrans and rally whatever support we can.”
For the last half hour, he had been surrounded by the various senior officers at the conference table. Admirals, and commodores, all listened intently as Julian explained the details of his mission. Sitting beside him was Colonel Righton, who inputted his notes in a data tablet at his lap.
Finishing his final points, Julian expected the briefing to be a simple formality, the call to action clear and undeniable. However, in the seconds that passed, no one spoke, the room nearly silent, as all the officers in the room seemed to hold something back. They looked away at Julian and toward their own superior, the supreme commander sitting in his floating chair. His eyes were closed as if in a deep meditation. Finally, after another half-minute in pause, the old admiral came to his decision.
“First, I have to say we must commend you Captain Nverson for your unwavering valor,” Alvadan said, re-opening his eyes and fixating them squarely on Julian. “I’m glad you came back safely. We need more men like you to help lead the SpaceCore.”
“It’s my duty to serve,” Julian said.
The admiral gave an inscrutable smile, his two forefingers pressed up toward his age-old lips.
“Before you arrived, we had been discussing the situation,” he continued.
“Yes,” Julian said. “I’m hoping we can arrange for escort as soon as possible.”
“Indeed,” the admiral replied.
Alvadan turned to the other admirals and senior staff, watching for their reactions. Subdued they were, the other officers sullenly shaking their heads in silence.
“It pains to me admit this,” Colonel Righton said. “But I don’t think it’s enough. Our hands are still tied.”
“I agree,” Alvadan nodded.
“Excuse me?” Julian asked, confused at what he was hearing. “Not enough?”
Alvadan sat forward, placing his chalked hand on the table. Gradually, his bony fingers crimpled together into a fist.
“The android,” he said in a near bellow. “The moment I saw her, I recognized her.”
“Recognized?” Julian asked.
The admiral’s speech was slow, but he was still fully lucid, as he spoke with an unflinching authority.
“She wears a variant of a military exosuit, similar to the ones from the Old Hegemony, and EarthForce. They were advanced for their time and generally used among starship pilots on the ancient gate-drive ships. The design and everything is from that era.”
The admiral then trailed off, as he realized what he was admitting.
“Yes, it may be hard to believe, but I was there. During the
fall of Sol,” he said. “Just a young officer at the time. Before, I had done all these intermittent cryo-sleeps and longevity treatments. When we departed, we thought our exile was temporary, vowing to one day come back and liberate Earth. Only now after all these centuries, do I remember that pledge.”
The old admiral smiled, almost wanting to laugh at the irony.
“Now it seems Earth is the one who wishes to liberate us.”
The admiral paused as he stared out into a nearby window. Amid the vacuum, he could see only asteroid and a few surviving SpaceCore ships adrift. Something deep was on his mind, thoughts from both the present day, and the ancient past, weighing heavily on what he wished to convey.
In the end, there was little to say. He had already made up his mind.
“Sadly,” the admiral conceded. “I’m afraid we have no choice in this matter.”
“Sir?” Julian asked.
“Thank you for your thoughts. But you were not the only one to brief us on this matter.”
“What do you mean? There was my long-range comm message, who else could have briefed you?”
“After we received your message, Ouryan Intelligence immediately learned about your whereabouts through embedded surveillance into our own communication network. Seems they have their hands in everything.”
“Then they must be coming here,” he replied, rising from his seat in alarm.
“Yes, an Ouryan vessel is already en route.”
“Then we have to get the android away from here now!”
Julian was ready to leave the room, as he stood up and glanced at the conference hall’s door. But beside him, the officers sat silently, not in the least unnerved by what their leader had just said.
“We learned that the Ouryans were coming,” the admiral said coldly. “Not because of any intelligence on our own part, but because they let us. In short, they offered us a deal.”
“A deal?”
“Yes. They made it simple: rather than deliver the android to the New Terrans, we would give her up to the Ouryans, in return for a vast number of supplies, including ships.”