by Michael Kan
The Ouryan was not pleased, irritated that Richard was still playing his games.
“Come Magnus, indulge me,” Richard shot back. “It will at least give you more time. Time to try and hack into me. Already, I can feel your cyberattacks crawling all over my firewalls.”
The Ouryan gave a half-smile, half-frown, nodding in a reluctant respect.
“You recently uploaded a consciousness into the collective. Even your encryption couldn’t account for the subject’s eventual interrogation.”
“Ah, that was my guess as well,” Richard said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t detect his fabricated ID.”
“Hmph. Why did you sacrifice your location to convert a human? Was it really worth it?”
“You’ll never understand. Because you’re simply not human.”
“Spare me your sentimentality. You know that you are nothing without the Union. A missionary that has outlived its use. We’ve already purged the rest of your very being. Now there’s almost nothing left.”
Unfortunately, the Ouryan was right. Richard’s consciousness no longer existed in the Collective. A month prior, he had safely extracted his mind away from their influence, and housed it in his ship. It now rested not far from his present location, and projected his mind into the two orbs that made up his virtual body.
There were no other backups; Richard was too afraid that if hacked, the data would be exposed. No longer was he infinite, his consciousness limited into this new, and more simple, but confined state of existence.
The Ouryan agent was fully aware of all this, and recognized that Richard’s life was on the line. The enforcer had one more threat to give.
“Tell me where they are now. Or do I have to bombard this pathetic planet into ruin?”
“Come now? Do you really want to start a war with the Ula?”
“The Ouryan Union will do as it pleases.”
Richard didn’t wish to test the agent’s resolve, though he was still bold enough to issue a challenge of sorts.
“There’s no need for threats Magnus. Is that all you can do anymore? Take hostages. I thought you were more than that. The great Destroyer,” he said. “Besides, if you were really so cunning, you would know what I want.”
Intrigued, the Ouryan agent let the discussion go on, still hoping to hack into its target.
“Entarian. You and your riddles. Always dealing in secrets. I much rather battle.”
“I’m not the only one with secrets,” Richard replied. “Obviously, you’ve cornered me and I readily accept my fate. But I’ve always wanted to know—”
“And what is that? Is this a final request?”
“I suppose it is.”
“Then do tell me. What is the one thing a spy like you could never attain?”
He walked up to the Ouryan, and looked up at the sky, past the looming warship and into the sun.
“It’s the one secret the Ouryans have never wished to share. The secret to the Endervars. The reason they’re here.”
“Tell me,” Richard demanded. “Or do you not even know that?”
It was not what the agent expected, although it was a tantalizing proposition. Even the human could be reasoned with. To barter one thing for another. Or was this just another game? A charade for something else?
The enforcer mulled over the request, the hesitation long and pronounced. Richard was surprised. The Ouryan agent actually seemed to entertain the thought. The blonde haired-man placed his head faced down toward the sand, but slowly Richard could see the smile creasing over the figure’s lips.
“Humans. Arcenians. The Ula,” the Ouryan finally said. “All of sentient life. Let’s just say, they are more powerful than they know. Far more powerful. They are the universe.”
“Another riddle?” Richard asked, befuddled. “Or do you moonlight as a philosopher?”
The agent grinned.
“The answer is here. With me. Return to us and you will know all. It’s about time you became one with the Unity.”
The agent extended an open hand, goading for Richard to reach out. Admittedly, it was tempting. To know the answers he had spent decades hoping to uncover. He was so close, the secret at his grasp.
In the end, however, Richard could not forget his responsibilities. Nor the greater good.
Davinity, he thought. How I miss thee.
While Sovereign may have been the sword of humanity, Entarian had been the shield. He wished he could have gone with her, to try and end the war. But someone had to keep the peace. Or at least what was left of it, the signs of discord already appearing.
Although it wasn’t yet public, the Alliance was on the verge collapse. What waning influence the sentient races had was at risk of falling under the shadow of the Ouryan Union. Richard could not let that happen. Not when the collapser was reaching closer to deployment. So with his remaining connections, he had begun orchestrating the political maneuvering, while anonymously releasing the confidential files. His goal: to expose the Ouryans for what he believed they were — a scheming hive mind with little to no regard for organic life.
Maybe it would make no difference. And maybe it would be too late. But he was the shield, and more than prepared to suffer the consequences.
“So what will it be?” the Ouryan agent asked. “Absolution or total oblivion?”
As he already said once before, Richard was ready to accept his fate. In another moment, he snapped his fingers.
The explosion was miles off in the distance, but the fire and smoke immediately rose into the air, the boom echoing across the island.
Richard sent the order throughout his virtual systems, the wipe surging throughout every bit of data that comprised of his being.
This was the end. Even though Richard wanted to live, he knew there was no turning back. During all this time they were talking, he had also tried to hack into the Ouryan agent, hoping to at least glean at its secrets, and release them to the public masses. But as expected the defenses were state-of-the-art and too strong. The only thing left was to die in a blaze of glory.
He would not betray Sovereign, or the rest of humanity. He simply knew too much, the intelligence, connections, and personal memories so far reaching it could be used to end empires, or start civil wars. None of it could fall into the wrong hands. However, there was nothing to be sad about. He had done his duty, and protected what he held most dear. For once in a long time, he was genuinely proud.
“Sorry, but I’m still a human. So I’ll die like one,” Richard said.
The orbs that made up his body had begun to fail, his consciousness dying out. Still, he had enough energy left for a few more words, and one final gesture. The last laugh would be his.
“What is this?” the Ouryan agent asked.
Richard had sent off the package. The transfer complete, and directed to the figure before him.
It was an exceedingly large data set, and entirely unique.
“A gift,” he replied. “For your eyes only. My greatest secret. Something I know you cannot resist.”
The Ouryan looked at Richard with a confused stare. Was this a gift, or a trap?
Richard didn’t need to say. The Ouryan would eventually find out.
“You were right,” he added in his final words, his body fading away. “We are strong. Stronger than you know.”
The image then disappeared, the pair of orbs deactivated, and falling to the ground in a loud crack.
The Ouryan agent approached the dead gear in the sand, and saw that the orbs now sizzled inside, the smoke venting from their circular seams. As the agent scanned the devices, the warship’s sensors had begun detecting Ula ships inbound to its location.
Another failure, the trail turning cold. Indeed, the agent was above this. And yet again, it had been met with defeat, the outcome dwarfing the expectations.
It looked up at the statue next to where Richard once stood. It was a man carved in stone, sculpted into a heroic posture. But still it was a man, and nothing more.<
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“These humans...” the Ouryan said to itself. “I will have my satisfaction.”
The attack drone self-destructed, the fractured shards enshrouded in a heap of smoke. The ship it had come from disappeared into the sky, the sole occupant left to speculate where its target could be.
With nothing else to do, the Ouryan then opened Richard’s package.
Chapter 51
As the Au-O’sanah made its way through hyperspace, the minor modifications were nearing completion. It was nothing drastic, everything on board the bio-ship was still virtually unchanged. But now inside the bridge was the ship’s newest occupant, the alien energy tied down to the vessel’s very hull.
“The most powerful substance in the galaxy,” Julian said, staring at the pitch black core. “Right in our hands.”
He ogled the Endervar particle, and tapped the transparent metal covering it with a finger. Even as it was contained and housed over a raised platform, the power source seemed no less friendly, waxing in a pool of inverted nothingness.
Julian backed away, and watched as Arendi operated a console on the other end of the containment pod.
“Is it functioning properly?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’ve integrated it into the ship’s controls.”
It had been Arendi’s request: to lay down the new piece of technology, and equip it with the ship. Not just for her, but for everyone on board, the processes distilled into a format that aligned with basic Alliance controls. It was an idea that had come about midway into their journey, Arendi having spent the last four days working on the modification. She had done so with the aid of the specialist, who was nearby checking the platform’s construction.
Julian looked at the final product, and walked over to the console where Arendi stood.
“This is more than just securing the device, isn’t it?” he said, the structure forming a framed arch in the bridge. “You’ve really added it to the arsenal.”
Arendi showed him the control layout. Along with its implementation, she had incorporated the different “power patterns” into the bridge’s computer. With them, came a catalog of potential uses, some of which had been clearly designed for defensive maneuvers.
Julian was intrigued. This young woman had quickly come up with an invention, easily grasping the Alliance tech.
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he remarked.
Julian stood back impressed. But even so, he quickly found himself thinking back to the mission. Despite the progress Arendi had made, this was still a gamble. Going back to the source — back to Earth — was something he had never even entertained before, the planet now ruled by the enemy.
Julian knew the dangers. And yet, ultimately, what else did they have? He found himself leaning against the ship’s wall, pondering over the risks.
He felt the words ring in his consciousness. Julian looked off at the specialist, who stood only a few steps away at the bridge’s helm. She had also been watching Arendi, and had questions of her own. But silent she remained, using her telepathy to hum into Julian’s mind.
Rather than speak, Julian realized that perhaps the specialist wanted to be discreet. So instead, he spoke into the clutter of his mind, the unsaid words private.
It makes sense, he thought. At least we’ll get to see it for ourselves.
The specialist gave a muted glance at Julian. Not in opposition, but still somewhat skeptical.
The specialist returned to look at Arendi, her gaze following the android.
Julian grinned, with a subtle shake of the head. She glimpsed at Arendi and saw her brush a strand of hair away from her brow.
No, she actually chose it. I guess she needed it.
Julian saw a brief smile appear on the Alysdeon’s lips, before it crumpled into a pained glance.
Julian had never thought of it that way. But the more he did, the more he found it to be true. She was innocent: a bystander who found herself in a conflict that was now spiraling out of control. Although both Julian and Alysdeon had been trained to fight in the war, the same could not be said of Arendi.
He was about to agree, when Alysdeon realized Julian had misunderstood.
Julian shook his head again, unsure what the specialist was referring to.
Forced?
Arendi, unaware of their discussion, went on inspecting the newly erected system. She was quiet and looked at a pair of holographic panels projected before her.
Through the yellow light, Julian saw Arendi briefly glancing at him. It lasted less than a second, before she shyly looked away, pretending it never happened. She seemed almost unsettled, even as she continued typing on the controls.
Julian could not give an answer. He had simply forgotten the need to question it.
Shaking his head, he pushed himself off from the ship’s wall. Larger matters were almost at hand.
The bridge’s view screen showed it, the distance closing. In less than 24 hours, they would arrive at their destination. Then they would be there: at the birthplace of humanity, where all this began.
***
Home.
After over ten years away from it, Arendi had finally returned, the picture of the world appearing on the visual scan. As expected, it was a planet encased in almost unexplainable energy like all the rest; the Endervar shield was in plain view.
Earth, she thought, gazing at the bridge’s view screen. It was really there.
She saw no oceans, no clouds, nor any sign of atmosphere. Just the white light of the enemy barrier forming a sphere around the world’s exterior. It was meant to be impenetrable and inescapable, the forced purgatory having long ago locked away 11 billion lives. Seen from inside, the shield was both a sky and a prison, synthesizing sunlight. But as she and her creator had shown, it was not without its improbable flaw.
The only obstacle in their way was the single Endervar ship in orbit. Spanning over a mile in diameter, the enemy vessel hovered along quietly, having just emerged from the shield where it had spawned from. The Au-O’sanah carefully observed from a far-off distance, using two seeker probes to enhance the long-range scans. So far, everything was proceeding accordingly, the enemy ship perhaps unaware, or even uninterested in their presence.
Another weakness, Arendi thought. It was only a matter of time.
From her own experiences and what the Alliance had long ago learned, Endervar ships were almost solely devoted to invasion, the hunt for sentient life their main priority. There had been simply no need to defend, what with the Endervar shield acting as an unbreakable barrier. It had left the enemy exposed, and blind to what they were hoping to orchestrate. Arendi looked back at the apparatus in the bridge, the exotic particle it housed active and ready. She had devised the proper algorithm, and although it would take far more energy, Arendi knew it could be done. All they now needed was an opening.
“Still nothing,” Julian said, as he watched the single Endervar ship from the bridge’s view screen. “Come on.” he added, hoping for an immediate change.
They had arrived at the system nine hours ago, but had been forced to wait. Almost mindlessly, the enemy vessel continued to loop around the planet, the ship a potential roadblock impeding their approach.
Rather than risk engagement, they had decided to take the more cautious approach. Arendi could tell Julian was growing impatient. The
specialist had since gone to bed, but the captain sat in his chair, stretching his legs down on the floor. He could not sleep.
“One Endervar ship,” he said, rubbing the side of his bearded cheek. “You know, there was a time when we couldn’t even fight back. One Endervar ship. That’s all it took.”
The captain spoke of the historical documents. That of the fall of Earth, and humanity’s dreaded first encounter with the Endervars. Arendi knew it as well, the data preserved within the storage banks of her own creator. From what had been recorded, there had been no glorious battles fought, or any sustained defense against the first invasion. Humanity had been simply driven out of its home, unable to fight back against a single Endervar vessel.
“But now we’re back,” the captain remarked.
He lay his arms lethargically over a nearby console pad, letting his face fall over his shoulder.
Arendi had already briefed the captain on the situation on the planet. And so there would be no surprises; it would not be the homecoming any of them had imagined, the Earth that history once knew effectively deformed. The captain cycled through the real-time images on the view screen, the scan zooming out to reveal the remains of the Moon and its broken body, the shattered rock forming a loose ring around its original orbit.
He pulled back even further, and saw the blurred images of the other shielded colonies; Mars, Europa and Titan had all fallen to the enemy’s power. The captain lay there still, his face smothered deeper into his curled arms.
She walked over to him, and looked down at his crumpled posture in the chair. Silently, he glanced at the images, each world locked behind the enemy barrier.
Since they had departed Carigon, Arendi had initiated little conversation with the captain, even as he had tried talking to her several times. It was not easy to engage in the “chit-chat.” She still felt the sensation from the last encounter, her artificial mind failing to reply to what had been a mundane query. For her, it was not so simple, the embarrassment and confusion real.
Home, she thought. Arendi had never had one. But Julian did, or at least it was a semblance of something closer to what it was meant to be.