Remember the Starfighter

by Michael Kan

  “Any change?” he asked.

  Julian had returned. From where, she did not know. He would always speak, but the specialist would never reply. At least, not vocally. It was frustrating. To observe only scraps of information, the context lost. They were so close to her, and yet Arendi could do nothing but watch.

  “How many more days?”

  “But why can’t she move?”

  “What about re-routing the nodes, or even the power source?”

  “Does Faraday even know what he’s doing?”

  She heard Julian pace across the room, and ask his questions in frustration. Arendi could only imagine the replies, but it seemed evident the answers were lacking.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk,” he said. “No...this is my fault.”

  She could see him, standing over her. He was dressed in a charcoal jacket, his hands fitted inside brown gloves. He took them off, and threw them in his pocket, his face visibly distressed.

  “SpaceCore, we should have never gone there,” he went on. “Even if she awakes, I don’t think she’ll trust me. Why would she?”

  He closed his eyes in disappointment. Eventually, he began to nod, like he was listening to something. He gave a long exhale.

  “Yeah. I know,” he said. “Yeah.”

  Julian then knelt down toward her, laying his arm at her side.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a whisper. Julian then took her hand, and placed it inside his own. Like before, he held on, gripping it tight. Then in another moment, he left.

  Date: June 6

  With no warning, her vision turned to black. The shutdown imminent.

  They must be trying something. Trying to revive me.

  At first, it frightened her, to lose her sole window into the world. But she realized, that maybe, her purgatory was close to ending. That in the next time, she might actually be able to function.

  The darkness was growing. The silence becoming a vacuum. She felt her consciousness sway. The thoughts starting in fits, only to break apart. The coherency losing its structure.

  Still, she felt the hope. Maybe it was ending. Maybe she could finally return.

  Date: June 7

  Her eyes snapped open, the vision still there, the window into the world preserved. But as before, there was no response from her systems. Nothing. Nothing at all. Arendi’s condition remained unchanged.

  It was almost like a replay of before: Julian spoke to her, waving his hand again in front of her face.

  “Are you there?” he said.

  And yet for some reason, it was different from the last time; his speech was slower, the words almost slurred and unnatural.

  “Aarreenndddiiii,” he moaned. “Aaareee youuuuu thereeeeee?”

  Briefly, his waving hand froze still, like it was locked in time. She gaped at it, knowing something was very wrong. Abruptly, Julian’s hand rapidly sped up, waving in a fury.

  “Aren--stk--- krsstthh-- jrahhau-- hasdnaddddd!”

  He heard him squawk, the voice so fast, she failed to understand it. The words were accelerating, becoming gibberish, Julian’s voice now a high whine. In a rush, he was moving, galloping around the room, and then disappearing. The specialist did the same, popping in and out, her body shaking like a vibrating silhouette. None of it could be perceived, all of it just a blur.

  No, she said, realizing why. Arendi had only been reawaken to find that the errors had become worse. Her sense of time had been lost as well. The present sped along at an unfixed beat, spiraling out of control and then grinding down to a freezing halt.

  Arendi wanted to close her eyes. And yet she knew she could not. Her window into the world was open, but effectively it had been warped.

  Date: June 11

  Vellanar. It was a name she had managed to catch wind of, even as the days seemed to pass faster.

  Somehow, it was important, the term revolving around galactic politics, and then the war. Only eventually did Arendi slowly piece together its significance, the realization coming the day it was no more.

  “You saw the report on Vellanar, right?” Julian said in the chamber. “The news spheres are calling it a huge catastrophe.”

  The words, completely clear, were like a breath of fresh air to Arendi, the view moving back at a normal rate. Julian sat next to her, his face in the corner of her vision. She saw it, and instantly felt at ease, like a connection was made.

  “Just like that,” he said, his voice barely slowing down. “The Arcenian homeworld gone. An entire machine fleet destroyed.”

  He was slumped in his seat, lethargic, like he was wounded. Arendi did not know why. She only wanted the moment to last. Last long enough to understand.

  “I still can’t believe it. Now I’m seeing rumors about the Alliance dissolving.”

  Julian then shook his head in disbelief.

  “The Ouryans,” he continued. “Their influence will just grow if that happens.”

  The specialist appeared at the other end of her vision. Sheathed in her black uniform, she nodded, crossing her arms.

  “So, there’s been no sign of them, right?” he asked, the words beginning to speed up. “Good,” he replied. “Hopefully, it’ll stay that way.”

  It was the last thing she could understand as Julian’s face became a smear. The cycle had restarted, time falling out of her grasp.

  She felt tormented to once again lose touch. Although Arendi could not see it, strangely, she could feel it. The sensation familiar. If she was not mistaken, Julian had had been clenching her hand. As faint as it may have been, Arendi noticed it. In spite of all the chaos, Julian still held on.

  Date: June 13

  Time was moving slower. Glacially slow. Each second seemed to go by in the span of minutes, the motion trickling along at a near static rate.

  Julian sat at her side, looking down, at perhaps nothing in particular. He was visibly tired. Like he was overworked, the bags under his eyes conspicuous.

  For minutes, and minutes, he sat there. Barely moving. His gaze downcast and glum. She saw his mouth inch open, blooming like a flower. Then it heaved, the heavy yawn puffing from his cheeks.

  He was so tired. And yet still he was present. Always sitting there. Why?

  Finally, Julian slowly began moving, languidly placing his face into the palms of his rising hands.

  Arendi watched, and felt what she thought was sadness, his eyes closing.

  It’s not your fault, she wanted to say. You’ve done all you can.

  Arendi yearned for more than anything to reach out to him. To just let him know not to worry. That she had accepted her fate. He needn’t be burdened by her. There was nothing more to be done.

  If I could just move. She thought about that, and imagined it, her hand touching his.

  I was lucky to have you met you, she wanted to say. I only wish I could have known you more.

  Date: June 17

  Arendi was fading into exhaustion. Maybe even into insanity.

  She wondered if her mind was on the verge of falling apart, the idleness in her systems perhaps taking its toll. She had never dreamt before, but she imagined that her current state was perhaps a close facsimile. Her consciousness entering into a dazed numbness. The emotions erratic and wandering. An unseen fickle force guiding her every thought.

  It was obviously a nightmare of some sort, Arendi left with nothing to do, but to watch, as time stumbled about. Usually, there was little to see and hear, save for the repeated buzz of a robotic arm, tinkering with her inner systems. She had had enough of it. She wanted it to stop.

  Maybe I should just die, she thought. Then the other notion would come. I was never alive to begin with. I am machine.

  These thoughts were actually nothing new. Perhaps since her inception, Arendi had always wrestled with them. The doubts always there. Why, she asked, Why be human?

  She understood the answer, but in return only felt the burden. To her, it was not natural. She was just an imitation. An imperfect one at t
hat.

  The dream, however, would not end there. Most of the time, Arendi was alone, and barely lucid. But then there would be those brief moments, where she could sense them. Two people watching over her. A man and a woman. Eventually, Arendi would realize she knew them. This was no dream, but real.

  The specialist and her kind smile — it had become etched in her memory, even as she could barely see it anymore. The woman was silent as ever, but Arendi could tell that she cared. How she so wished to hear that illusive voice. It must exist, Arendi declared into the silence. It must!

  She wanted to laugh, enjoying her delusional state. So she did, chuckling inside her mind. But it did not last. Not when she saw him. The sad-eyed captain.

  Was it real, or just Arendi’s imagination? Either way, the memory of him was etched into her mind as well. But it was less of an image, and more of a feeling. The touch of his hand. Whether it be against her cheek, or around her hand, she remembered the sensation. She wanted to feel it again.

  Julian, she thought. If only.

  He must have rescued her. They must have rescued her. They had been watching over her this whole time. Did they really care? Arendi thought about this, only to be led back to the touch of the captain’s hand. Even if she did die, at least, Arendi could say she had felt something — something that had been good, something that had been memorable.

  Arendi imagined her hand and reached out. Yes, she could feel it. He was there. They were still with her. She laughed.

  Date: June 19

  “So, she’s been awake this whole time?”

  Julian stood there baffled and looked down at Arendi’s paralyzed face.

  “Really? What do you mean?”

  The specialist approached from the other end of the room. She handed him an electronic slate. But this time, she was not so speechless.

 

  She stared at Arendi, when the firm, but beautiful voice came. The time flow had returned to normal, the pace of their movements no longer a chaotic puzzle.

  the specialist said, her dark sapphire-like eyes glinting in the light.

  Not once did she open her mouth, but the words still originated from her augmented body, the rhythm flowing to the glow of her facial implants.

 

  Julian continued to read over the data on the slate, stroking the emerging beard on his face. He then dropped the device to his side, all too relieved.

  “Thanks Faraday,” he said, looking at the opposite end of the room. “You really are a genius.”

  He looked down at Arendi, and was about to touch her hand, when he awkwardly pulled back.

  “It’s good to see you again Arendi. Or I guess, you were there all along,” Julian said. “We missed you.”

  She remained motionless. But Arendi could hear every word, her perception fully restored.

  Yes, she said in her mind. I missed you as well.

  Arendi was ready to return.

  Chapter 45

  After almost three weeks of inoperability, Arendi had finally regained control.

  Her body had changed. Far more than she had imagined.

  Her systems had immediately registered it, the apparent loss and reconfiguration evident. And yet Arendi only needed to feel it; her artificial body was no longer confined behind plates of metal. She opened her eyes, and looked to see it gone, the armor and its segmenting layers of nano-machines dismantled and lifted away. Instead, was a white fabric, the medical gown covering what was her bare naked skin.

  She arose from the operating table startled, holding the cloth to her waist. Arendi then reached to her brow, and felt her hair unfurled, the long and unkept locks touching the back of her neck. She glanced at her surroundings, and found it to be a secluded chamber, the walls strangely crystal in form, like they had been fashioned out of ice.

 

  It was the specialist, the graceful voice synthesized from her artificial implants. She stood only inches away, and greeted Arendi with that same signature smile, a dimple creasing along her right cheek.

 

  “Yes,” Arendi replied. “You are Alysdeon.”

  She closed her eyes, and gave a subtle and polite bow.

 

  Arendi balked, still rattled by her present condition.

  “What happened?” she asked. Arendi felt decidedly different. Exposed. Vulnerable. She went to feel her belly beneath the fabric.

 

  The specialist gestured to what remained of it. The millions of tiny machines lay dormant, and unhinged, floating in a container of liquid behind her. Arendi pushed herself off the operating table, and watched the once solid armor swim like liberated glitter.

 

  Arendi nodded. But it wasn’t just the armor that was gone. She hugged her belly harder.

  “My power source. It’s been altered.”

 

  It explained the change — the near limitless energy replaced by something more mechanical and finite. She could not even feel it, the reactor a listless device, running at a cool and capped rate. It was practically nothing compared to the almost feral power source Arendi had once carried — the power that had been on the verge of collapse.

  “It was destroyed, wasn’t it?” she said. “The exiled particle.”

  The specialist tilted her head, curious.

  she replied.

  She could tell that Arendi would only have more questions. So she came to her side, and fondly took Arendi’s hand.

  the specialist said.

  ***

  They had moved deeper down into the crystalline chamber, the whole facility essentially a research lab, when Arendi came to the large window. It was a starless view, but filled with its own mysterious medium.

  “Are we in hyperspace?” Arendi asked. “On board a starship?”

  This clearly wasn’t a SpaceCore station anymore; the structure she was standing in was developed out of some kind of advanced, and likely alien technology. But the window held something else, the view filled with its own eccentricity, the substance moving in the colors of cerulean blue.

  The specialist nearly chuckled, pressing a hand over her lips. she said. The specialist then brought Arendi in closer, and pointed to the gyrating waves in the glass.

 

  Arendi looked back at the view, the blue almost limitless. Water, she thought, stunned by the realization. She had never witnessed such a sight before, only having seen such things from the historical recordings. On what had become a static Earth. Such pleasantries had been lost to her.

  Now to be dropped in one, it all seemed so vast. The ocean clear and idyllic. The halos of light glimmering through the sea.

 

  “Carigon,” she replied, touching the glass. “It’s amazing.”

  But the specialist had not brought Arendi to the window simply to see the view. She had wanted her to meet a friend.

  For a moment, the glass held nothing but water and the twinkle of what only could be a sun high above.

  the specialist then said, pointing back at the window.

  Looking through the open
sea, Arendi glimpsed at a haze forming deep within. Ripples and bubbles fanned out, the figure large and approaching fast. Arendi thought it to be an underwater craft of some kind. But she was wrong; the object was alive and swirling through.

  the specialist said, as she looked into the glass and waved.

  The alien swam with the elegant gyration of its frill-like fins, as if it belonged in the water. It cut through the ocean, only to stop and float inches from the glass. Arendi backed away, almost scared.

 

  Like the specialist, the alien glowed, covered in a patchwork of its violet and crystal rubies. Parts of its body seemed both organic and oddly mineral in form. The fins gently drifting in the water, while in the center, a large octagonal jewel stared back.

  “He is an Ula?” Arendi asked.

 

  Arendi had only seen a few aliens on board Alliance Command. But most had been from a distance, or appeared smaller and less intimidating. This “Ula”, however, was so different, evolving with an anatomy that bore little resemblance to anything human. It continued to stare back at her, its jewel-like eye twitching back and forth.

 

  Arendi was barely paying attention, when she heard the words “power source” and “unstable.”

  “Where is it now?” she asked, trying to ignore the odd view of the alien in the window.

  They left the area and entered into an adjoining room, lit in white. It was lined with not only crystal, but also forms of unrecognizable equipment, shaped in statues of silver. Arendi walked past the technology intrigued, and she quickly found that all of it encircled what the room contained in the center, the pillar rising from the floor.