Voorlak extended his open hand, his palm facing her from across the room, “Calm yourself, child. Deep breaths. Slow your heart - all is well. Nothing to fear…”
A cool wash of air passed across her, clearing her mind, slowing her heart with cleansing breaths. She closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing. “I’m not sure I understand the difference…”
The old man cleared his throat. “Revived, is an immediate correction of a short-term loss of life signs. Resurrection, is restoration of life and soul after permanent loss of life…”
“Oh dear God,” she breathed. “How is that even possible? What happened to him?”
“Much of what has transpired I cannot tell you…”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Voorlak took a sip from the snifter he held. “Suffice it to say, I am prohibited from divulging certain details. It is secret to anyone outside the order. But,” he sighed, “I can tell you this; when Jack was delivered to us, he was in a bad way. Very ill. And despite our efforts, he expired in our care…”
“Oh Jesus…” squeaked Lisa.
Voorlak held his hand up again, “Calm yourself child…” He pulled the hood of his cloak back, revealing his lined, aged face. “Jack is very dear to me, and his destiny had been cut short, derailed. On my behest, the Brethren reviewed his timeline and saw the value in sending him through Chrysalis, so his remarkable energy could continue to exist in a viable form, and on task.”
“What is this Chrysalis?”
The old man stared into the snifter for a moment and stroked his beard in contemplation. “You can never repeat what I’m about to tell you…”
“I won’t…”
“Ever,” he said sternly. “I mean it. There could be dire consequences for all of us…”
Lisa swallowed hard, “I promise.”
“The only reason I’m going to tell you any of this, is because the two of you are so close; your brother may need some help from someone who has a glimmer of understanding about what he is and what he’s experiencing…”
“What he is? What are you saying? Are you saying he’s not Jack anymore?”
“He has changed…”
Lisa nodded, “Yeah, you said that…” Her heart was pounding, her hands shaking. Gus crawled over and put his head in her lap, offering comfort for her distress. She laid a trembling hand on his head, stroking his ear.
“Chrysalis is… well, let’s just call it a process. Something one goes through to become something more. Something new.”
“I… I don’t understand.”
“Chrysalis is only offered to select, worthy Brothers of the Templar Order who exemplify integrity and the other tenets of the Brotherhood. It is not to be taken lightly as you are bound by the strong cord of a moral obligation, with dire consequences should you choose to violate or transgress your solemn and binding oath. It is a time of transition… from what you were, to what you are to become.”
“And what do you become?”
“That is something I cannot reveal.”
Lisa chewed her lower lip in deliberation. “Did you go through this… Chrysalis?”
The old man smiled at her effort to get the answers she needed, “Yes…”
“So, he’s like you now?”
Voorlak tugged on his beard, smoothing it methodically, “No, dear. I am an Ancient. Jack would have been a… Guardian,” he said reluctantly. “But because he came to us early, he woke early, disrupting the process…”
“Like a Guardian Angel?” probed Lisa.
“Something like that, yes,” agreed the old man. “But because his development was interrupted, it was decided to restore him to corporeal life - in the hopes that he would return to us at the proper time his destiny was supposed to deliver him to us.”
“But you said he’s not just Jack anymore…” injected Lisa.
“As was intended, he has no memory of his time with us.” He stroked his beard, “At least not yet. But I have been watching him, he does seem to have retained certain Guardian…” he searched for the right word, “attributes. Things beyond human. I have to believe his CABL system was the key factor in this matter - storing and recording information that we cannot control. We possess the ability to restore him without it, make him whole, perfect again – but that would have been taking something away from him that he uses to his advantage - and that is forbidden.”
So, if he’s not just Jack, what is he? Who is he?”
The old man up-ended the snifter and drained the remainder of the Diterian Brandy. “He is part Jack, and it appears, part Guardian. He is neither completely human or completely Guardian. With that reasoning, he is neither alive or dead - as you know and understand it. He is something completely new and unique.”
Lisa had her hands atop her head, frustrated, trying to formulate coherent thoughts, tears streamed down her face. “This is all so confusing. If he had a destiny, how could it change?”
“I understand your frustration, dear,” he agreed. “But only the Grand Architect of the Universe knows for sure. This may have all been by design. Intentional. We must trust in him - the plans he makes are not always clear to us.”
Lisa uncrossed her legs and dropped off the bed, rising to her feet. “Where is he…” It was more a demand than a question.
“I cannot tell you that, my dear.”
She set her hands on her hips, “Again, can’t or won’t?”
“Cannot,” he replied softly. “What you fail to take into consideration is that while your paths are intertwined, you have commitments along the way. Your destiny and the destiny of others relies upon the decisions you make and the actions you take. Anything I tell you about his whereabouts could change the path of history. Your decisions have to be your own.”
Lisa punched the air, “Damnit, damnit, damnit…”
“You know for yourself he is well, you should be happy,” the old man reminded her, rising from where he sat on the sofa.
“You’re leaving?”
“I must…” he confirmed, flipping the hood of his cloak back over his head. “Remember your promise…” He pointed at Gus, “That goes for you too.”
■ ■ ■
Lieutenant Commander Brian Carter, set his breakfast tray on the table across from Lisa Steele before swinging his leg over the back of the chair, dropping down into the seat. “What’s wrong, Kiddo, can’t sleep?” he smiled.
“Something like that,” she mumbled, stirring the cereal floating in the pale blue milk. She glanced up and looked around at the Revenge’s empty mess hall, “What are you doing down here?”
He shrugged, “I like coming here when it’s quiet, I get the pick of the best bacon,” he grinned, holding up a perfectly golden-brown strip. “Something bothering you, Lisa?” He popped the bacon in his mouth and chewed happily, “Mmm.”
“Worried about Jack I guess…”
Brian pointed his fork at her, “You do know your brother lives a charmed life, right? I’ve never seen someone so adept at turning things around in his favor…”
Lisa was doing a close-up inspection of the cereal in her spoon before putting it in her mouth. “Yeah, but luck can run out,” she replied between crunching.
“I suppose,” nodded Brian. “But you dwelling on it, isn’t going to change anything…” He waved a piece of bacon at her, “I still maintain your brother is protected somehow. A Guardian Angel or something...”
Lisa snorted at the reference, almost squirting milk out of her nose. It made her eyes water. “So, where are we?” she asked, changing the subject.
“A couple days to G’Naroth Sarat in the Bengaloo System. We’re several hours to the gate yet…” He paused to sprinkle some seasoning on his eggs, “Which reminds me, as we approach G’Naroth Sarat, I want you in the Reaper out on escort…”
“You expecting trouble?”
“I have no idea what to expect. I was just thinking if we were docked at a station you can still launch - but we have to set
her down on Amanpoor. I’d feel better if the Reaper had the freedom to take off, not trapped underneath the Revenge in her docking slot.”
Lisa nodded in agreement, “Makes sense.”
CHAPTER SIX
CASTILLE SYSTEM, THE BLACK WIDOW : PARTING WAYS
It was just as important for Steele to find out, as it was for Michel Thorne, if Jack really was a Synth or not. There was too large a gap in Jack’s memory between Amanpoor on G’Naroth Sarat and where he was picked up in Madrassas by Michel with the Black Widow, to take a chance. And there was no explanation for it. At least nothing believable that he could conceive of.
“How is the fluid temperature, Mr. Jaxon?”
Steele looked up through the clear tank, filling with God-knows-what kind of clear amber slime and nodded, his nose and mouth covered with a sealed breathing mask, the oxygen tube snaking out the top of the horizontal tank. He adjusted his bite on the mouthpiece, a drop of the slime creeping in at the corner of his mouth. Thankfully there was no noticeable taste.
“As soon as you’re completely submerged in the transmission medium, we will start the scan. Just relax, you will be semi buoyant.”
The technician’s voice was muddied through the fluid and Jack had to resist sticking his fingers in his ears to clear them out. As the fluid rose and closed around his face, he closed his eyes tight.
“You can leave your eyes open of you wish… it will not affect your eyes.” said the technician.
Steele kept his eyes tightly closed and shook his head no. Coming from a guy in a pale-gray smock with an eyepatch, his reassurances weren’t all that comforting. Jack took a deep breath and tried to relax, something easier said than done, suspended naked in clear amber fluid, in an all-clear tank.
“Alright, starting the scan, Mr. Jaxon. Breathe evenly and remain relaxed and as still as possible.”
Steele could envision the ring on the mechanical arm passing over the tube from end-to-end like they had discussed, the sensation on his skin not uncomfortable as the unit used sonic resonance to read through his body. He let his mind wander…
Being confined to quarters, needing to be constantly under escort around the Black Widow was bad enough, but almost two weeks of it was nearly unbearable – especially on such a small ship. It might not have been as bad, had the entire crew not avoided him like the plague. Including Michel. That hurt. To some extent he could understand it, but that didn’t make it any easier. Having had Fritz with him, would have made it much less like prison. He had resorted to talking to MOBI, and she had done a fair job of keeping him sane, with some insightful discussions and salient points. She was a poor replacement for human interaction, but it helped pass the time.
It was during one of those conversations, when Steele was attempting to research the reason for his unexplained behavior in engineering, that MOBI found a reference to an anomaly that affected life-forms with implanted CABL systems; Neurotransformic Rigidity, which is often accompanied by a condition called, Hemotological-ferro Magnetism. It seems, on rare occasions of intense mental concentration, the body’s neural network locks the muscles into rigidity because the CABL system is either flooded by input or overwhelmed with a logic loop that overrides the natural brain. The electrical field manufactured by the overactive neural behavior created by the CABL system, can cause body magnetization with species known to have iron-rich blood.
While that could certainly explain the bizarre event in engineering, it didn’t do anything to explain the visions or the ability to do the redesign work on the Black Widow beyond rudimentary sketches and notes.
He wondered if MOBI’s suggestion to temporarily change his alias to, Mr. Jaxon, was necessary; but with the events on Rikovik’s Reef and Nelson’s Point, maybe it truly was better to be anonymous; especially since he was basically alone in Indian territory without a safety net or material support. He had considered contacting Admiral Higdenberger, but he was dark and something told him it might be best to stay that way. He couldn’t silence the little voice in the back of his mind that kept telling him there was a leak somewhere. Not that it was the Admiral, but something wasn’t right…
A sudden chill caused Steele to shiver and he came to the realization he wasn’t feeling the sensation of the sonic scan on his body any longer. Eyes still closed tightly, he felt around with his hands, discovering he was no longer submerged in the slime, floating on only about ten inches of it. He struggled to wipe the stuff from his face before opening his eyes and stripping the mask from his nose and mouth, the only light in the darkened lab, produced by the medical equipment and the monitors around the room. It even looked like the corridor beyond the lab room was dark. “Hey! Is anybody out there!?” he called, banging on the lid of the tube. “HEY!” He rolled on his left side to look around the room, with flashbacks of waking up in the sleep pod on the Black Widow for the first time… “Dammit, not again…”
It took a moment to focus on the spidered pattern on the upper half of the tube where he discovered several holes in the glass. What? Rolling over and turning back the opposite way, he found the same type of spidering and matching holes on the lower half of the tube where the slime slopped out into a massive pool on the floor. The pain across his chest and shoulder was late in coming, but once it did, it was breathtaking and eye-watering. He eased himself prone again and tried to even his breathing. “Holy shit,” he wheezed. “What the hell is going on here?” His chest hurt and his right shoulder seared, so his left hand searched gingerly. A groove cut across his chest, where scar tissue had already begun to form and a divot in his shoulder where a hole had been, was instantly sensitive. He’d been shot...!? That didn’t make sense. Why? What made less sense was that it was already healing. How could that be? “Holy crap, how long have I been here?” he wondered aloud. He attempted to utilize MOBIUS but remembered having to take her off before getting into the partially filled tank. The only thing that remained on him was his ring. “Dammit, I’ve got to get out of here before they come back to finish the job…” he muttered. Reaching back, grabbing the oxygen mask, he disconnected it from its hose. Wrapping it around his left fist, he rolled on his right side and punched the tube in the weakened section between two of the holes in the glass. The material was harder than it looked, but he persisted. He placed his back against the opposite side of the tube for better extension, his right shoulder, bearing his weight, nearly blinding him with pain.
With a crackle and sudden POP the bottom side of the tube blew out, spilling him onto the floor with a splat, the remaining slime sloshing over him, sliding him across the floor until he thudded into the medical cabinets against the wall. “Son of a bitch,” he squeaked, holding his breath to avoid screaming as he rolled onto his back, cradling his right arm with his left hand. It took a moment of deep breathing to clear the pain-induced lightning from his vison. The slime that hit his face tasted like blood and from the light provided by the monitors, the pool looked more clear-red than clear-amber. Standing in the stuff wasn’t an option so he cautiously crawled toward the opposite side of the room doing his best to avoid the nuggets of glass by sweeping them aside.
Making his way to a padded bench seat where his clothes had been, Steele sat, wiping the slime from his body with the towels left for him, staring at the human form with the gray smock and eyepatch, sprawled on the floor between the equipment stands. His good eye stared blankly at the ceiling, a sizeable hole in his forehead. “Hey pal, you didn’t happen to see who stole my clothes, did you?”
■ ■ ■
“Who steals fucking clothes,” hissed Steele. Heart pounding, barefoot, dressed in the technician’s medial scrubs and lab coat, he unlocked the lab’s door with the tech’s keycard, slipping silently into the darkened hallway. “What the hell have you gotten me into Michel?” he whispered. No clothes, No MOBIUS, no money, no friends, no sidearm, no identity... At least the readout on the monitor for the scan showed he was himself. Small consolation. According to the time logs on the scan
, he had been there a little over six hours.
Nothing made sense… he was shot and healed in less than six hours? That’s crazy. That’s impossible… unless it had something to do with that slime… He unconsciously touched the deep scar across his chest. His shoulder throbbed.
Slinking through the corridor, he came across another form sprawled on the floor, a woman in a lab coat, two large angry red stains on her back and a long bloody smear on the polished floor. Hmm, she was running… He moved up to the corridor stopping at another door, rising slowly to peek through the window. An empty treatment room. All the cabinet doors were open wide, and the floor was littered with medical supplies. “What the hell am I dealing with here? Gangs looking for drugs maybe?” He knew the medical center wasn’t very big - it wasn’t much more than a large clinic with an outpatient O.R., some labs and treatment rooms. There weren’t any patient rooms that he knew of. At least he hoped not… that would just mean more casualties.
Steele let himself into the treatment room with the keycard in his pocket, if I run into one of these clowns, I don’t want to be empty-handed…
■ ■ ■
A laser scalpel the size of a pen, a little bottle of something that he’d hoped was as flammable as alcohol, and a four-foot length of pipe from an equipment stand. It wasn’t much. But it was a start. He had no idea if Michel and Mutti were even still alive. They were supposed to wait for him in the clinic’s lobby waiting room.
Making his way toward the lobby, Steele paused at the nurses’ station, peeking up over the top of the counter, two women still at their stations, shot multiple times, their faces frozen in death, horrified, the wall and cabinets behind them riddled with bullet holes, splattered with blood. This was a raid, plain and simple. Slaughter everyone, leave no witnesses. Sheer barbarism.
He was torn; check the lobby and make his escape or follow the sound of the voices he could hear coming from somewhere past the nurses’ station. If he actually managed to make his way out of the medical center, was he going to be able to make it across the city to the flight terminal where the Black Widow and the Palladium sat? Or were they even still there…
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