by Jay Allan
“Your mother knew your father perhaps better than anyone, Terrance, save possibly for Admiral Garret. You would be well-served to consider her viewpoints.” Sophie Barcomme had been one of the scientists on the fleet, and Terrance Compton’s lover. She’d been very active in Earth Two’s development in the early years, but then she’d slipped back into somewhat of a self-imposed semi-exile, where she remained.
Terrance laughed. “Yes, that may be true, but I still feel the way I do. And, I’d wager I’m seeing more of my mother worrying about her only child than any deep analysis about what my father would have wanted.” He hesitated for a few seconds. He was his mother’s only child, at least on Earth Two, but he knew she’d had another, that he had a half-sister, somewhere lightyears away, beyond the Barrier. He knew he’d never meet her, that his mother would never see her daughter again. She’d rarely spoken of the losses she’d suffered when the fleet had been trapped beyond the Barrier, but Terrance knew about the sadness that weighed on her. She’d lost one family and then found happiness again with his father. And, then she’d lost him, too.
He wasn’t sure if she could handle losing him too.
He felt guilty for adding to her burden, for putting himself in danger and making her worry about losing the last person close to her…but he had to do what he felt was right. And, the more he’d thought about it, the less doubt remained.
“You may be able to help Earth Two more effectively in other ways, Terrance.”
He looked back at the machine, despite the pointlessness of the gesture. It’s trying to convince me to choose something safer, too. He felt a burst of the old feelings, when he’d truly believed the AI was his father, at least in some way.
“Do you really think it matters? Our line units haven’t seen much combat since the fighting twelve years ago, and if things do hit the fan, don’t you think it’s going to be all hands on deck, so to speak? If the new Regent finds Earth Two, I suspect we’ll be arming school children, so how much more chance am I taking joining a combat unit?”
“Your analysis is logical, Terrance, though incomplete. You are correct that in a last-ditch defense situation, every resident of Earth Two would be in grave danger…but you underestimate the chances of limited conflict, even of offensive actions by the navy against the Regent, and the risks attendant to such operations. I do not have sufficient data to calculate your increased chance of death or injury if you pursue this course, but I am quite certain it is substantial.”
“I was a screwup for years…I just finished the Academy course, almost twenty years late. I have to do something meaningful, and I can’t think of another way to do that. I can’t compete with the Mules on research, there aren’t really any more politics since President Harmon took control…I guess it’s just time for me to do what I have to do.”
He paused. “Time to see if I’m really my father’s son.”
* * *
H2 looked down at the counter, staring at the small bits of electronic circuitry, but seeing nothing but a soft blur. He was troubled, and his thoughts were elsewhere.
“H2, are you okay?” Hieronymus Cutter was standing about two meters from his protégé. He’d created H2, from a DNA specimen and some preserved First Imperium genetic material, as he’d created all the Hybrids…the Mules. But, H2 had been the first, and the human DNA he’d used had been his own. He’d always had a special affinity for the man that was almost his clone, indeed, a vastly improved genetic version of himself, but he also knew his first creation, the closest thing to a child he had, and closer in some ways, was troubled.
“I am fine, Father.” H2 always called Cutter ‘father.’ It wasn’t strictly speaking, a correct usage, though it was more so for him than for the other Mules, who also used the term to refer to the scientist most responsible for their creation.
Cutter knew H2 wasn’t fine, that his creation was troubled, as he had often been throughout his life. If Cutter had stopped at H2, he’d have created a demigod, a man whose intellect and physical abilities were far greater than any normal human’s. But Cutter hadn’t stopped. He’d continued his research and experiments, and his next creations, building on the work that had gone into creating H2, had been the production of the first 116 Mules.
No…117 Mules, he reminded himself. H2 was a Mule, at least to Cutter he was. He didn’t regret developing the Hybrid program and the Mules that followed, but he’d come to understand how it had affected H2. The brilliant scientist he’d created, the nearly perfect physical and mental specimen, had developed an inferior complex of sorts. Cutter had always considered his creations to be the same…and it had taken him some time to understand the magnitude of the difference. But H2 had been aware of that fact all of his life.
The newer Mules were even more advanced from human norms than H2, and they were well aware of that fact. There had always been a sort of uncomfortable camaraderie between H2 and the others. They considered him the first of their kind, and gave him something akin to respect in that regard. But, they also thought of him as inferior, and, with the arrogance so common among the Mules, they’d often let it be known in cutting and insensitive ways.
H2 had worsened the break between himself and the others when he’d sided with Cutter against Achilles’ rebellion years before. As always, it wasn’t any overt hostility between them, but H2 knew he was always somewhat of an outsider and, for the most part, he spent his time in the lab working, often alone, and when not, usually with Cutter or with Ana Zhukov, feeling the entire time, Cutter suspected, like some adult child still living with his parents.
“You can speak to me about anything, H2…you should know that by now.” Cutter almost winced as he spoke the Mule’s name. He’d dubbed his clone Hieronymus 2, perhaps not thinking enough at the time that his creation would grow to be an actual person, not some kind of pet or something else to be dubbed with a cute version of his own name. He hadn’t intended any harm, but the fact that the other Mules had all been given individual names, if ones borrowed from mythology, further exacerbated the differences between the first of their kind and those that followed.
“I’m concerned about the Mules…the other Mules.” Cutter winced at the indication that even H2 didn’t consider himself truly a member of the group of elite Hybrids.
“What about them?” Cutter wasn’t sure where H2 was going.
“Well, Father…you know they are loyal to you, of course.”
Cutter nodded. Whatever troubles the Mules had had with the other humans on Earth Two, he’d never doubted they regarded Ana Zhukov and him with a special reverence.
“Well…they don’t take me into their confidence, of course, not really, but I still hear things, especially from some of the younger Mules.”
“Things?” Cutter remembered the unrest sparked by Achilles twelve years before as if it had happened yesterday, but he couldn’t imagine the informal leader of the Mules would incite another rising of his people, not with the Regent still out there. Cutter didn’t suspect Achilles approved of the continued limitation on Mule quickenings, but it was a major improvement over the Prohibition, and not one he thought would lead to outright conflict.
“The limitations on quickenings, Father.” H2 almost immediately confirmed Cutter’s guess. “You know Achilles doesn’t like it…none of the Mules do. Neither do I.”
“Nor I, H2.”
“I know that, Father. And, so does Achilles. For all the angst, and even some bitterness among the older Mules, none of them are ready to return to the tensions of twelve years ago.”
“That is good. Achilles appears to be firmly in control, even if his position is an informal one.”
“He is, Father…that is not my concern. I am worried about the younger Mules.”
“In what way, H2? Would they rise up now, against the wishes of Achilles?”
“No, I don’t believe so. Not while the threat of the Regent’s forces looms over us.”
“Then what is it, H2?”
H2 paused for a moment, which contrasted sharply with his tendency to answer quickly. “You must remember, Father, that unlike the other Mules, I have been given a greater comprehension of humility. I understand what it is like to seethe with impatience when a Normal is unable to understand what I am trying to explain…and yet, I also know how it feels to be regarded as lesser, as a being of a lower order.”
Cutter hesitated, feeling a flush of renewed regret for the difficulties his first Hybrid had endured. “I know things have been difficult for you, H2, but…”
“No, Father…it is not that.” H2 had never interrupted Cutter before, and now the scientist was really concerned about whatever was bothering the Mule. “I merely state that I have some level of understanding regarding what the younger Mules feel. They have no humility, none at all, and unlike Achilles and the others among the originals, they came into being as part of an existing society. They have no recollections, as I do, and as Achilles and the original 116 do, of a civilization struggling to take hold, or even of the fear of twelve years ago, when the New Regent’s forces struck. All the Mules are arrogant, and with some justification, perhaps, but it is more than that with the younger ones.”
“More?”
“Yes, Father…more. They see only the burden the Mules carry for advancing Earth Two’s technology, the contributions their predecessors have made, and that they now begin to make. They see the limitations on quickenings, and they read the histories of the Prohibition.”
“There are injustices, certainly, but our society can overcome these.” Cutter was far from sure he believed his own words.
“Can we, Father? Twelve years ago, Achilles did what he felt he must, with regret and hesitation. The older Mules, for all their arrogance and feelings of superiority, look upon the Normals as cousins, if not quite brothers, even as wards whom it is their duty to protect.” Another pause. “The younger Mules do not feel this way…I am sure of it. They understand the threat of the Regent, but I fear they consider the Normals to be a danger as well. There is far less of the concern Achilles and the others share for the Natural Borns and the Tanks. There is anger. Bitterness.”
H2 looked right at Cutter and, after a moment of silence, he said, “They are learning to resent the others, to hate them. I fear what they might do, after the Regent is destroyed…and even before, if much more time elapses without a more overt threat to Earth Two.”
Cutter didn’t answer…he just stood still, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling rising in his gut.
Chapter Seven
Fleet Artificial Intelligence System, E2S Vaughn
Captain? Captain Graham? I am detecting life signs aboard, including your own. I have dispatched medibots to the bridge, as it appears all personnel in sickbay are incapacitated and unable to respond.
The automated repair systems under my direction were able to restore partial engine power. I have maneuvered the ship through the nearest warp gate, to the previously unexplored G49 system, where we are now positioned. We have escaped immediate destruction, but we are now scanning energy readings from the warp gate. Data currently available is too incomplete to draw any conclusions, but the possibility of enemy pursuit cannot be ignored. The likelihood of reaching the nearest warp gate out of the system before interception is nil.
Captain? Captain Graham? Can you hear me?
E2S Vaughn
G49 System
Earth Two Date 10.19.42
The hazy red light cut through the darkness, like a fuzzy, pinkish cloud. There was something, high above, white…no, more gray, hanging in the distance, out of reach…
Roland Graham was lost, trapped somewhere between consciousness and darkness. All was silent. No…there was something, something familiar. A voice.
The blurry gray above slowly slipped into focus. Metal, light gray, covered with conduits and piping…with chunks of blackened wiring hanging down.
I’m on Vaughn…
He could see more now, the ceiling of the bridge recognizable…both reassuring in its familiarity and distressing for all the damage he could see, gashes in the steel, chunks of twisted metal protruding all around, gaps where sections of equipment and structural supports had fallen to the deck.
I’m alive…
Graham found that realization oddly surprising. He remembered the feeling of drifting away, of the blackness taking him. He’d thought he was dying then, and that his ship would follow moments later, if not seconds. But he was still here…and that meant Vaughn was too.
How?
His hearing was still impaired, the ringing in his ears drowning out most external sounds. There was definitely a voice, someone speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words, not at first.
He tried to move, but he encountered stiffness first, and then, as he pushed harder, pain. He was injured…somewhere. He couldn’t tell, but as long as he lay still, there was no pain.
I can’t lay here on the deck.
He took a deep breath, feeling a sharp twinge as he did. Whatever other injuries he had, he suspected there was a broken rib, perhaps more than one.
He gritted his teeth, turning to the side, reaching out and putting his hand on the deck, pushing himself up. It hurt like hell, but he managed to get to a sitting position. The tinnitus was still distracting, but it had receded enough for words to get through. The voice.
Vaughn’s AI…
“Captain Graham…”
“Report…” He rasped out the command, realizing that his parched throat had barely pushed the single audible word through his lips. He doubted any of the crew would have heard him, but the AI’s input/output systems were highly sensitive.
“Captain Graham…I am pleased to hear from you. My scanners confirmed that you were alive. I have dispatched Medibots to your location, but the lift system is inoperative, and that is slowing response times.” Even as the slightly electronic voice reported to him, a hatch opened up, and a small hover drone slipped out onto the bridge. It was a medical unit, far less comprehensive than the bots, but apparently the only thing that could get to the bridge under the present circumstances. It moved across the room, toward the captain.
Graham lifted his hand slightly and said, “No…I’m okay. Check on the others.”
“Captain, I strongly suggest…”
“I said check on the others.” Graham knew the AI was programmed to preference his status. He was, after all, not only Vaughn’s captain, but commander of the entire fleet. And he was going to act like it.
Fleet commander? What fleet…there is no fleet. Maybe just a few chunks of floating wreckage scattered around, with enough life support to keep a few of us alive.
But for how long?
“Ship status?” he asked, as he watched the small drone change direction and move toward one of the nearby officers. As far as Graham had been able to tell, he was the only one on Vaughn’s bridge still conscious. Perhaps the only one still alive.
“Automated damage control systems were able to temporarily restore partial engine power. In the absence of human direction, I utilized the available resources to take Vaughn through the nearest warp gate before the enemy forces could intercept. We are in the system tentatively designated, G49. Our scanning capability is currently extremely limited, but we detected no signs of enemy ships present when we entered. However, we are picking up intermittent energy spikes at the warp gate.”
They’re coming after us…
Graham felt a wave of fear, almost panic. He’d been ready to die…he’d thought he had died. But, now, he felt the urgent need to escape. He almost regretted whatever twist of fate had spared him…only to face a hopeless situation, the near-inevitability of dying all over again.
His people were dead, most of them, he suspected. He had no idea who else on Vaughn might still be alive, but his fleet was shattered, there was no doubt about that. Whatever survivors were crawling through the wreckage of his flagship or lying unconscious somewhere, just this side of death, most of those he�
�d led out from Earth Two were almost certainly already lost.
“Engine power?” He was fighting off the despair that was struggling to take him. He was terrified, in many ways broken…but there was still a vestige of the fleet commander in him.
“Minimal, Captain. Unfortunately, reaching the warp gate in the previous system taxed the makeshift repairs heavily. I have all automated systems working on restoration, but there is currently nothing available sufficient to accelerate the ship beyond 1g.”
Graham realized Vaughn was already accelerating at a single gravity. The compensator systems were almost certainly offline, which meant the gravity he felt—pseudo-gravity, really—was from the engine thrust.
“Course? Directly away from the warp gate?”
“Yes, Captain.”
It was a stupid question. He knew the AI would be doing everything possible to get the wounded ship out of harm’s way. And, he was just as certain that 1g acceleration wasn’t going to get that job done. Anything that came through that gate would almost certainly have fifty times or more that miserable rate of thrust.
He climbed up to his feet…and he almost plunged back to the deck as dizziness took him. He reached out, grabbed hold of the edge of his chair, barely stabilizing himself. He shifted his weight and plopped down in the seat, sucking in a deep breath as he closed his eyes and tried to get his equilibrium back.
He reached up and put his hand on his head, pulling it away as he felt wetness. He looked at his palm, covered with a sheen of sticky, half-congealed blood. He had a head injury.
It can’t be too bad…I’m here, awake…
He wondered if he was hallucinating, if he could trust anything he saw, heard.
“Status,” he said softly. “Mine…”
“The crew monitoring system is down, Captain. I do not have access to your vital signs or other medical readouts. You appear to have sustained a blow to the head, as well as an injury to the chest, likely several fractured or broken ribs. You have a number of contusions and cuts, but none of your injuries appear to be immediately life-threatening. There has been radiation leakage in multiple areas of the ship, including the bridge, but there are no apparent signs of severe poisoning at this time.”