by Vossen, Doug
“Engaging reverse local propulsion thrusters.” A loud crash resonated along the tree line on the southwestern periphery of Liberty State Park, one and a half kilometers from the main mass of soldiers. Frightened birds were shaken loose from trees. But those setting up the firebase were focused on their task, and didn’t notice the noise.
The local propulsion transport (LPT) was a reflective, light-weight, metallic alloy comprised primarily of tungsten carbide with palladium to regulate its electromagnetic instruments. It measured four by ten by three meters, with sleek, rounded curves tapering into an ovular fuselage.
Ronak emerged from his vessel. He inhaled deeply. It was refreshing to smell the atmosphere of a real planetary surface. The scent of freshly cut grass and fallen leaves wafted into his nostrils. The familiar aroma of burning structures and diesel fumes hung in the air as well, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to enjoy the moment.
Ronak exhaled. “Resolute Colony Vessel IV (RCV4) primary tracking nexus, this is Legate Ronak reporting. Local verbal communication protocol engaged.”
“Acknowledged, brother.”
Resolute Colony Vessel IV was in orbit between Jupiter and its moon, Europa. The vessel, a hulking behemoth, held entire cities’ worth of infrastructure, ten divisions of military forces, agricultural hydroponic facilities - everything a self-sustaining mass of advanced technology needed to survive indefinitely through a long journey in the hostile environment of space. It measured twenty-three kilometers in length by eight kilometers in height, with twelve equally spaced circular rings connected to the main ship by sturdy umbilical passageways. The rings used renewable clean fuel sources to rotate at speeds over one million kilometers per hour, depending on the force of natural external gravity, and this provided constant artificial gravity to the ship. It was a self-sustaining mobile world in the stars, a marvel of advanced engineering.
“RCV4 primary tracking nexus, this is Ronak reporting. Extra-local primary communication protocol engaged.”
“Ronak, this is the nexus. Your intentions are not presenting clearly due to environmental distortion. Did you utilize the atmospheric and veil impediment data provided?”
“Indeed. My cranial augmentation is operating at optimization levels set for predominant nitrogen and oxygen, as well as trace amounts of the other fourteen elements present. The fact The Veil has any interference at all is confounding at this moment. If this is not an error, then our apprehensions are a reality,” transmitted Ronak via thought.
“Exit your local propulsion pod and determine the cause of the disturbance.”
“It will be done immediately,” thought Ronak.
“Brother, we are having difficulty ascertaining your intentions through extra-local communication. Utilize verbal communication as your primary means of interaction until the difficulty is resolved. Ensure the chronicle of your journey is stored locally until you are able to upload and convey it clearly to us,” instructed the nexus.
“It will be done. I am exiting the transport now.”
“Legate Ronak, ensure you maintain the utmost discretion. It is unknown how the Terran species will react to your presence. A veil disturbance of this magnitude is unprecedented for any known species, let alone one so technologically primitive. They are not much more advanced than Æther’s highest primate. We have already lost contact with Legate Sameena; it is not logical to expend additional assets until you ascertain her fate. Utilize extreme caution. If you perish on your journey because of their boorish and un-evolved nature, the information you glean via reconnaissance will have been for naught.”
“I am approximately one-fifth of a terran horizon’s distance from the group of warriors we glimpsed organizing along the dihydrogen monoxide body separating them from the phenomenon detected in our original sensor data.”
“Begin preparations and continue your journey. Based on this world’s gravitational data, time is still very much of the essence,” warned the nexus.
“I understand. In addition, please verbally provide any additional information regarding Legate Sameena’s status as you receive it. It will… provide clarity and knowledge in order to assist me in learning the results of her actions.” I cannot lose her. Not now.
“It will be done, Ronak. May the limitless potential and possibility of The Veil guide and inspire you on your journey.”
“You have my gratitude, RVC4. Let us begin.”
“Acknowledged, Legate. Please proceed with your reconnaissance.”
“Verbal log initiated. This is 2nd degree Legate Ronak of the Hariba region of Æther, hailing from Resolute Colony in the honorable halls of universal equilibrium, serving aboard Resolute Colony Vessel IV, reporting to the Supreme Nexus. Local terran time is one thousand four hundred and thirty one units of a two thousand four hundred unit time cycle. Ambient temperature is 285.928 units above universal zero. Carbon dioxide emissions above the collective of warriors show approximately 1,600 individuals congregating across from the phenomenon,” said Ronak. “Their numbers appear to be steadily increasing from the polar north.”
“What is the warriors’ disposition?”
“Stand by. Conducting a proper physical investigation now.” Ronak employed the thermoptic camouflage module on his local propulsion transport (LPT). It virtually disappeared. The only way passersby would notice the piece of machinery in the foliage would be if they walked directly into it, or closely and deliberately examined how light bent around the object. Ronak then activated the heads up display (HUD) through his cranial augmentation. He set it to continuously present as a small window in the bottom left corner of his ocular field of vision.
The people of Æther were technologically advanced, and did not differ greatly from humans. One major difference was several generations of gene therapy that had eliminated all unnecessary or undesirable traits within two hundred years. Everyone from Æther was able to remove genes coding for terminal illness, mental and physical disability, and substandard strength and intelligence. Æthereans rarely got sick, and had an indefinite lifespan limited only by circumstance. They all possessed the foundation to be both academically brilliant and in near-perfect physical condition. Their offspring further enhanced these advantageous characteristics. The only characteristic Æthereans could not artificially mold was a personal sense of motivation. They served as a model of what Earthbound humanity could achieve if it survived long enough to realize its potential.
Another important difference was the sense of interconnectedness shared by the vast majority of Æthereans upon reaching adulthood. All citizens of Æther received microscopic cranial augmentations when they reached puberty. This augmentation allowed them to store nearly limitless information in their own brains, as well as employ the information when necessary. Included in this augmentation was direct access to every piece of available information known to date. This did not eliminate the need for verbal communication, or acquiring new skills, but it made for a relatively seamless transition from ignorance to proficiency. The most important consequence of this technology was the collapse of deception among all Ætherean people. Their complete and universal access to a greater network of information, as well as limited permission-based access to each other’s thoughts, made it extremely difficult for Æthereans to lie to each other.
Universal knowledge and interconnectedness permeated every aspect of Ætherean society. If two people were brokering a trade, no matter how big or small, there was never a question of the true value of the good or service. Each side’s thoughts and intentions were fully exposed in every situation. This even applied to the courtship process. There was never a question regarding the emotional context in which one person viewed another. This degree of utter transparency allowed the Æthereans, after a difficult adjustment period, to strive for what they really wanted in life. This in turn brought all of society closer to goals previously thought impossible. Once the last generation of Æthereans lacking augmentation died off, there began a sharp trajectory to
ward eliminating the planet’s humanitarian problems, as well as an exponential rise in the capabilities of every technological sector. The crowning achievement was extra local propulsion (ELP), which allowed the Æthereans to gain spacefaring capabilities beyond their immediate solar system. On Earth’s time scale, this had occurred eight hundred years ago.
Ronak engaged his personal camouflage unit and began moving slowly along the tree line. Thermoptic camouflage was a highly effective form of concealment, but it was still only as good as its user. Ronak had been highly trained in the use of this particular technology, as well as movement and reconnaissance methods that were vital to the professional life and personal safety of all Legates.
An important aspect of conducting reconnaissance is maintaining distance and silence while simultaneously ensuring multiple points of view. This allowed Legates to map an area from the ground, instead of relying solely on imagery collected from space. Even in a society almost one thousand years more advanced than Earth’s humans, the land always looked different on the ground. Most important, although thermoptic camouflage existed, it was necessary to pretend it didn’t, so that it did not become a crutch.
Ronak slowly crept to the edge of the tree line in a crouch, then moved into a deliberate crawl, alternating between his elbows and his knees as he shimmied across the grass. He stopped behind a large tree. Supporting himself on his elbows, he peeked over the side of the trunk and began the methodical process of zooming in with his ocular augmentation. He was adding everything in sight, from every angle, to the visual archive he would provide the Nexus aboard RCV4.
Before creeping in a clover pattern around the remainder of the terran brigade, Ronak moved to the southern tip of the trees to get a good look at the disturbance they had detected with their orbital sensors back at Resolute Colony. By The Veil . . . This is something the likes of which no Ætherean has ever seen. It is as if the esoteric writings of the past have come to life before my eyes. A shudder went down Ronak’s spine as he switched his ocular augmentations to every known spectrum. He wanted to archive as much data as possible for the Nexus.
The most interesting data Ronak collected was via ocular gravitational lensing. As his augmented eyes carefully processed every detail of the entity hovering over the city, he noticed light bending around the entity in all directions. “Nexus, this is Ronak, acknowledge.”
“Ronak, this is Nexus.”
“Nexus, it is exactly as we suspected. This is unorthodox, but I must insist you mentally prepare yourself for what I am about to verbally convey to you.”
“Proceed, brother.”
“The mass biological expiration trend observed by the orbital scans, combined with the death process and the fractal visual representation over the terran metropolis, leads me to the conclusion that there is evidence of life within The Veil,” said Ronak.
“Legate Ronak, need I remind you that all of this communication, local or otherwise, is archived for the ages. Think before you speak.”
“Nexus, respectfully, I am not an initiate. I have been a Legate for nearly 300 Ætherean cycles. I am fully aware of what will be broadcast to the entirety of our civilization once this verbal communication log and my local augment are synchronized with the Nexus. We have a serious problem here.”
“Legate Ronak, we mean no disrespect to you or your record of service to our valued way of life. What we say is out of loving watchfulness for your record of selflessness.”
Æther was a society of people who loved one another, had superior technology, and a progressive way of thinking, unlike anything on Earth. The Earthborn phrase, “Walk softly and carry a big stick,” was how all Æthereans lived. It represented a mentality that was appreciated, and was rarely taken as an affront to one’s ego. Generations of universal access among Æthereans had forged this philosophy.
“Nexus, I comprehend. Continuing on – the death patterns from the original orbital monitoring show approximately 84% of terrans have unknowingly made contact with these beings, for lack of a better term. The source is currently less than a horizon from my current location. The vast majority of them will perish within days, if they have not already. Some of the more mentally resilient ones will last slightly longer.”
“Ronak, have there been physical representations aside from the presence over the terran city and the trends you spoke of? Is there corporeal manifestation from the realm of infinite possibility?”
“Unknown. There is nothing I can do independently to mitigate this, and there is not enough time to return to RCV4, assemble the council, and plan a course of action. We must move immediately.”
“Brother, do you fully understand that of which you speak? You do not have universal input right now. What are you planning to do?”
As enlightened and powerful as Ætherean culture had become over the last 800 years, it could still stifle citizens from making independent decisions, without the consult of limitless information, input, and cooperation.
Ronak did not lack for a sense of independence. He had been placed in difficult situations in the past. He understood that the primary function of a Legate was never to act as a combat operative. Legates were emissaries of the Ætherean people - erudite in cross-cultural interaction, application of lessons learned from all known histories, political manipulation of developed societies, and much more. They took pride in monitoring and providing balance to the galaxy. Yet combat was certainly included in the compendium of education and training afforded to all Legates. Ronak, unfortunately, had needed to apply this aspect of his education on more than one occasion - once when he was 92 years old, and again at 214. Both instances were during unintentional wars Æther irresponsibly ignited with factions they should never have been analyzing. In life, Æthereans believed that being nice to others was paramount. But Ronak had learned that being nice did not always work. If needed, he was always ready to act. He took pride in individual resilience, much more than the vast majority of other Legates. Successful exploits in combat had given him confidence throughout his life.
“Nexus, I realize this is unorthodox, but at this rate we will lose a young species under our protection within months. I must make first contact now. We need to round up their best available minds. We need to find a solution. Observation will not suffice any longer.”
“Legate, you have a reputation for unnecessarily bold action when you lack the convenience of universality. Are you certain of this? RCV4 Nexus again reminds you that this is all being archived as we speak.”
“RCV4 Nexus, this phenomenon may mean the end of the valued way of life you so poignantly mentioned earlier in our conversation. The terrans are utilizing iron tools to remove earth from the ground. They are placing the earth into nylon receptacles and stacking these upon one another as a means of defense. They have formed a perimeter of warriors equipped with tools that expend molded lead at high velocities, in hopes they might live. They are apprehensive, and lack any idea regarding a proper reaction to this scenario. Their warriors do not stand a chance. But instinct tells me they have the means to find the terran scientists who can, at a minimum, begin to comprehend the magnitude of what we face. We can combine thought processes and move forward with a solution that works for them. Remember, you were skeptical of my decisions during the second war against the heretics as well. If you want to inform the council that the only living Legate with two Valorous Accolades of The Veil is about to make first contact impulsively and that you do not support it, you have my encouragement. I do not wish to diminish your illustrious record of service. You can help me, or await my return and punish me. As you said, time is of the essence. Ronak out.”
Thermoptic camouflage deactivated. First contact procedure initiated. Ronak slowly walked toward the terran leaders’ recon, plainly visible, his arms outstretched to his sides.
JESSICA
Hoboken looked as old as its long history suggested. Frank Sinatra and baseball had been born there. Nearly three hundred years earlier, Henry Hudso
n had landed in the area while working for the Dutch East India Company. What became Hoboken had been an agrarian community then. By the 1800s, it had developed into a waterfront resort for people from New York City. By the early 1900s, it was a waypoint for much of America’s World War I military might. “Heaven, hell, or Hoboken by Christmas!” had been a common phrase during the Second Battle of the Marne. By the Second World War, Hudson County had two tunnels and a ferry network connecting North Jersey to New York City. The area’s thriving industry supported America’s military machine as it grinded across Europe and North Africa.
Trent sighed as he walked down Willow Avenue. What had once been a down-to-Earth, blue-collar town with real people had morphed into an ugly, bankrupt, overtaxed, wannabe high-end hovel, infested with privileged college students and the new money of Manhattan’s most recent litter of finance babies. It was a sea of Ed Hardy and Affliction T-shirts. A great many people despised it. However, anyone would have traded everything to see it that way now; dead bodies lining the streets were not an upgrade to a douchebag subculture.
It was eerily quiet. The chill in the air was moderated by the sun, directly overhead. Trent took off his sweatshirt and pulled out his favorite Yankees hat from the flap in his assault pack. The hat fit into place snugly over his close-cropped, dark hair. The sun and continuous movement made him hot. He looked to the left and right, at the narrow, nearly identical row houses. There were a lot of deep reds on the exteriors of the buildings. The street barely had any place to walk because it doubled as the most poorly planned parking lot anyone could design. The excessive dead bodies lying everywhere along their path didn’t help matters. They walked single file, Trent in the lead, weapon up and scanning diligently. Callie was in the rear, Jessica in between.
“Hey Trent, why do all the houses look like small versions of my school?” asked Jess.
“Jess, this town is old as hell. Some people like to call it ‘charm,’ but I just call it old. No one wants to do anything about modernizing it, but it’s close to Manhattan and you pay a ton for the privilege of being part of it. It’s nonsense. It’s why I bought a place back on the Boulevard instead of here or Jersey City.”