Then the brightness faded somewhat and he noticed where he was. He gasped. He was soaring out over a golden carpet of clouds, racing toward a rising red sun. He looked down and found that nothing was holding him up. Somehow, impossibly, he was flying. For the first time in forever he felt truly free, but he also felt strangely numb.
Hadn’t he just died? And yet here he was. Was it a dream?
All Hoff could see anywhere he looked were clouds and the blinding brightness of the rising sun. “Who are you?” Hoff thought to ask of the voice that had greeted him. He was afraid to know the answer. If this was the afterlife and he had just come face to face with his creator, then how would that creator think of him for having thwarted his own death so many thousands of times by transferring the contents of his brain to an endless series of clones?
“You know who I am, Hoff.”
He shook his head and tried to search the blinding light for something with substance or even an apparition of substance.
Yet there was nothing.
“Etherus?” Hoff tried.
“That is one of my names. I am known better by my children as Omnius. I am your god, Hoff Natharian Heston.”
“Is that why I recognize your voice?”
“It is the same as your inner voice—the one that has always been there, often heard, but never listened to.”
“Where am I?”
“You are home.”
“Home?”
“Avilon.”
“What?” Hoff’s thoughts took a sudden right turn. This wasn’t a conversation with his god. God didn’t live in Avilon. Avilonians lived in Avilon.
“Your thoughts betray you, Hoff.”
“What are you?”
“I have already answered that.”
“This is a dream,” he replied.
“No, it is not.”
Hoff began flailing in the air. “Let me down!” he roared.
“No, there is someone you must meet.”
Then Hoff noticed that he was racing toward someone—someone standing in front of the rising red sun, with his feet seemingly planted squarely on the peak of a tufted white cloud. He wore a shimmering white robe.
As Hoff drew near, he thought he recognized the man’s face, but he couldn’t seem to remember who it was. Then he seemed to slow to a stop in front of that white-robed man, although the clouds continued to race by beneath them. He drifted gradually closer until he came face to face with that stranger—a stranger with familiar gray eyes, and a younger version of his face.
Hoff’s mouth dropped open, and he shook his head. “Is this some kind of a joke?” he demanded, turning to look up at the indigo sky and address the god he had been speaking with a moment ago.
But Omnius didn’t reply, the stranger did: “It is no joke. We share the same memories, the same personality—well, give or take the past seven years.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You died on Ritan—or I did anyway. That Hoff—the one who died in his lover’s arms—is me.”
“You don’t even look like me!” Hoff spluttered.
“Yes I do, except that I am even younger than the man who died. Rest assured, however, my mind is identical in every way.”
Horror and realization sliced through Hoff like a knife. He had no memory of Ritan. He’d been stranded there while escaping the Sythians over ten years ago—or so his wife told him. Destra had been stranded with him. That was where they’d grown close enough to conceive their daughter, Atta. Hoff couldn’t remember any of that because he hadn’t made it off Ritan. He’d died there, and he’d been too far from his ship to transfer his Lifelink data to a clone. The artificial intelligence in charge of the cloning chamber aboard his flagship had decided to revive him soon after it had lost contact with him during the invasion. The one it had revived was him, and for a time there had been two of him, living parallel lives—the one on Ritan, and the one with his fleet in the Enclave. Now he was coming face-to-face with the one that had died, but that should have been impossible. He had recently disabled his Lifelink implant at his wife’s request. So how had he been revived here, in Avilon? And how had the clone of him on Ritan been revived? If he’d been too far from his flagship to revive there all those years ago, then how could he possibly have revived here in Avilon?
“I don’t understand . . . how . . . how are we still alive?” Hoff asked, struggling to put a sentence together.
“We’re not the only ones,” the younger Hoff said. “There are trillions here like us, resurrected from the war. Omnius brought everyone back.”
“That’s impossible!” Hoff said. “Not everyone had Lifelinks! Almost no one did! And where did all the clones come from? Where do you even put that many people? Not to mention how you might feed such a multitude.”
“Everyone was implanted long before the invasion, without their knowledge. The implants were attached to standard Imperial identichips, which were introduced in 48 BE and implanted in every citizen at birth. From there a pocket of nanites traveled to the host’s brain and built a cloaked Lifelink implant. As for where the clones came from and where we put everyone, Omnius has spent the last fifty years growing those clones and expanding the city of Etheria to make room for them. That city stretches from level fifty to level three hundred on Avilon, between the Styx and the Celestial Wall, and it spans the entire planet. There are currently over sixty trillion inhabitants, all resurrected from the invasion. Feeding them is just a matter of technology and utilizing the arable worlds found in the sector of Domus Licus.”
“I . . .” Hoff shook his head. “What are we going to do? Will there be two of us now?”
“No, Omnius tells me I have to decide whether or not to merge my memories with yours. It will be strange for both of us if we do. I’ll remember your life, everything you saw, felt, or otherwise experienced in the past seven years.”
“And me?” Hoff asked.
“You’ll become a part of me.”
Hoff couldn’t help feeling like that wasn’t fair, like he was being asked to die and share all the intimate details of his life with a fraud, but he had a feeling that he didn’t have much choice in the matter. “And what have you decided?”
The younger man smiled. “I think I need to sleep on it.” With that, he turned to leave.
“Wait!” Hoff yelled. He wasn’t sure what would happen to him if this Hoff decided not to merge memories with him.
The younger man turned.
“You married her,” Hoff said.
“I’m sorry?”
“Destra. You’re married to her now.”
“Really?” that seemed to take the younger man by surprise.
“Yes. You have a daughter with her, too. She’s seven years old.”
“Seven? That’s about the time . . .”
“You died. Yes. She was conceived on Ritan.”
“I’ll have to ask Omnius about that. If what you say is true, then I’ll have no choice but to merge your memories with mine. To do otherwise would be to deprive my daughter of a father and my wife of her husband,” the younger man said.
“Exactly,” Hoff said.
“We will speak again soon.”
Hoff felt desperation rising in his chest. He didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary in this lonely, cloud swept place. He reached out with a hand to stop the man—himself—from going, but his hand never passed in front of his face. He felt like he’d raised his arm, but nothing had appeared to happen. Hoff frowned and hurried after the younger version of himself, who was now walking across thin air away from him. He bumped into the younger man, and that man turned to him with a frown.
“What are you doing? You can’t follow me to the surface.”
“Why not? If everything you said is true, no one should be surprised to see two of us.”
“Surprised? Perhaps not. Frightened maybe.”
“Why would I scare anyone? I’m the same as you. You said so yourself.”
&nb
sp; “I said our minds are the same. That does not mean we share the same body. Why would Omnius create two bodies for the same man?”
“What are you talking about?”
With that, the younger man pulled him frighteningly close, until their eyes were mere centimeters apart. Hoff saw his reflection in the younger man’s familiar gray eyes. No. He shook his head—but he didn’t have a head. He began to tremble all over, but he had no muscles and no nerves to produce that effect.
He was nothing but a shiny silver ball, floating in the air. An artificial eye glowed red in the center of his metallic casing, glaring back at him.
With that, Hoff wondered how he could have been so foolish. He and all the other immortals who had cloned themselves to escape death hadn’t found a way to live forever.
They had found a way to die a thousand times.
DARK SPACE CONTINUES
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DARK SPACE V: Avilon
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PREVIOUS BOOKS
IN THE SERIES
Dark Space I: Humanity is Defeated
HUMANITY IS DEFEATED
Ten years ago the Sythians invaded the galaxy with one goal: to wipe out the human race.
THEY ARE HIDING
Now the survivors are hiding in the last human sector of the galaxy: Dark Space—once a place of exile for criminals, now the last refuge of mankind.
THEY ARE ISOLATED
The once galaxy-spanning Imperium of Star Systems is left guarding the gate which is the only way in or out of Dark Space—but not everyone is satisfied with their governance.
AND THEY ARE KILLING EACH OTHER
Freelancer and ex-convict Ethan Ortane is on the run. He owes crime lord Alec Brondi 10,000 sols, and his ship is badly damaged. When Brondi catches up with him, he makes an offer Ethan can't refuse. Ethan must infiltrate and sabotage the Valiant, the Imperial Star Systems Fleet carrier which stands guarding the entrance of Dark Space, and then his debt will be cleared. While Ethan is still undecided about what he will do, he realizes that the Imperium has been lying and putting all of Dark Space at risk. Now Brondi's plan is starting to look like a necessary evil, but before Ethan can act on it, he discovers that the real plan was much more sinister than what he was told, and he will be lucky to escape the Valiant alive. . . .
Dark Space II: The Invisible War
THEIR SHIP IS DAMAGED
Ethan Ortane has just met his long lost son, Atton, but the circumstances could have been better. After a devastating bio-attack and the ensuing battle, they've fled Dark Space aboard the Defiant to get away from the crime lord, Alec Brondi, who has just stolen the most powerful vessel left in the Imperial Star Systems' Fleet—the Valiant, a five-kilometer-long gladiator-class carrier.
THEY ARE LOW ON FUEL
They need reinforcements to face Brondi, but beyond Dark Space the comm relays are all down, meaning that they must cross Sythian Space to contact the rest of the fleet. Making matters worse, they are low on fuel, so they can't jump straight there. They'll have to travel on the space lanes to save fuel, but the lanes are controlled by Sythians now, and they are fraught with entire fleets of cloaked alien ships.
AND THERE IS NO WAY OUT
With Brondi behind them, they can't go back, and they can't afford to leave the last human sector in the galaxy to the crime lords, so they must cross through enemy territory in the Defiant, a damaged, badly undermanned cruiser with no cloaking device. Making matter worse, trouble is brewing aboard the cruiser, dropping their chances of survival from slim . . . to none.
Dark Space III: Origin
THE DEFIANT IS STRANDED
Ethan and his son, Atton, have been arrested for high treason and conspiracy, crimes which will surely mean the death sentence, but it's beginning to look like theirs aren't the only lives in jeopardy—the Defiant is stranded in Sythian Space, and the vessel which Commander Caldin sent to get help has used all its fuel to get to Obsidian Station, only to find out that the station has been destroyed. Now the Defiant's last hope for a rescue is gone, and everyone on board is about to die a cold, dark death.
HUMANITY IS STILL FIGHTING ITSELF
Meanwhile, the notorious crime lord, Alec Brondi, is plotting to capture the remnants of Admiral Hoff's fleet, just as he captured the Valiant, but Hoff's men are on to him, and Brondi is about to get a lot more than he bargained for, forcing him to flee to the one place he knows will be safe—Dark Space.
AND A NEW INVASION IS ABOUT TO BEGIN
But Dark Space is only safe because the alien invaders don't know exactly where it is, and now they have a plan to find it which will threaten not only Dark Space, but the entire human race.
Buy ALL three for a special price: Dark Space: The Original Trilogy
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jasper T. Scott is the author of more than ten novels, written across various genres. He has been writing for more than eight years, but his abiding passion has always been to write science fiction and fantasy. As an avid fan of Star Wars and Lord of the Rings, Jasper Scott aspires to create his own worlds to someday capture the hearts and minds of his readers as thoroughly as these franchises have.
Jasper writes his books from Central America and offers his sincerest apologies and regrets for his long absence from the rat race, but to all the noble warriors who venture out daily into the wintry cold on their way to work or school, he sends his regards—you are braver than he.
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