Spinward Fringe Broadcast 11

by Randolph Lalonde

  Alice didn’t recognize anyone except for Yawen, who smiled at her when she noticed her in the filling briefing room. Her uniform was the same; black with a thick red pinstripe down the side and absent rank. The rest of the uniforms on the hundred or so people gathering represented every department in the fleet, and Alice noticed that friendly reunions were rare.

  As Yawen made her way over to her, where she stood close to the front of the plain space, Alice observed that few people seemed to know each other at all. There were a few tentative introductions between crew members who had markings from the same ships, but other than that, it was a room of strangers. She touched the arm of a young woman without a rank or ship emblem on her uniform. “I’m wondering, are you one of the officers who attended the Apex Program in a blacked out uniform?”

  The young woman’s brown eyes looked her up and down quickly, and she smiled a little. “Alice Valent, it’s an honour to finally have the opportunity to introduce myself. I was. I’m Bailey Wilson,” she replied in a thick, stately British accent.

  Alice shook the woman’s hand; her grip was firm and sure. “That had to be something, taking classes like a shadow.”

  “They did it so we couldn’t interfere with your class, the main test group. Most of us preferred it for other reasons, though. When I joined your fleet I was a healthy seventy-nine-year-old, and I thought that would limit my service.” The woman didn’t look a day over twenty, but her eyes had a surety that was uncommon in someone so young. “I suppose you have no way of knowing, but all of us were undergoing an aggressive rollback process. Everyone who signed up agreed to it, and there were times when I was relieved to be a shadow, following you trainees. There are some stages for someone who looked like I did - a bit leathery like an old dog who spent her best years in the desert - that aren’t pretty. No regrets, things turned out as promised.”

  “I’d say; you’re a knockout. I’m Yawen,” she said from Alice’s side. “So, you were shadowing us the whole time?”

  “I was only there for two weeks while I qualified on your fleet’s technology and regulations. Many of the blacked out officers were there for a little longer,” Bailey replied. “We only joined you for classes and to observe exercises though, we had a separate dormitory and galley.”

  A whistle sounded over the intercom and five officers entered the room. “Attention!” shouted one marked as a Lieutenant Commander in a black and gold vacsuit. He was a bridge officer. “Captain on deck!”

  A man with salt and pepper hair cut sensibly, of average height and a runner’s build entered the room and stopped in the middle of the far wall. He looked at the group assembled in the briefing room who were standing stiffly at attention with a little smile. Alice was in the third row, Yawen at her side.

  “Targen,” he said to himself, nodding at someone in the front. “Paragon? There you are,” he said as he spotted someone Alice couldn’t see. She wanted to - Paragon was the first android to serve in Haven Fleet. He’d proven absolute loyalty, individuality and finished every qualifier test they could devise. “Alice?” he asked, searching from where he stood, leaning and standing on his toes. “Ah, there you are,” he said as their eyes met for a moment. He flashed her a smile and settled into a stance. “At ease. I’m happy to see all the late comers have made it. The rest of you have been aboard the Eagle and have met many of the people you will command.”

  Everyone relaxed a little, standing at ease. The Captain seemed lighter hearted than she expected, so she shuffled just a little so she made sure she could see him between the shoulders of the people standing in front of her. He wasn’t what she’d expected.

  “I am the doomsayer who grins and shows the way to the next paradise so the cycle may begin anew,” he said in a clear, relaxed speaking voice. “You will find everything you need to know about me in that statement. It is by a failed colonist named Onan Yeth. He led his people from ruin to what he thought they would fancy as their new home. His colonists mutinied after several disasters and were successful under new leadership. He is a reminder to me. It takes a special kind of genius and drive to deliver a people from oppression and strife to a place where they have a chance at freedom, at grace, but the person who takes them there may not be the right one to lead them once they arrive.”

  He cleared his throat and straightened the top of his black and gold uniform so the gold pinstripe was perfectly straight. “I am Captain Frederick Coran, master of the Eagle, and I admit to you that I hope we all find ourselves as successful and eventually as obsolete as Oman Yeth. There are three great wars under way right now. Up until three months ago there were four. The civil war between Earth and the Red Alliance has concluded. Thousands of warriors from that conflict are obsolete in the Sol system; soldiers without a war to fight. I am one of them. I came here to join the next worthy cause, the fight against the Order and for the preservation of freedom for humanity. The Earth I set foot on before leaving the Sol system as a victor was a smouldering ruin. Our enemy did that after claiming to be its ultimate protectors for centuries. Despite their religious teachings, and against everything they preached, they made sure it would take a thousand years to repair the damage they caused as they scarred their own world as a final insult before losing to us. We, the Red Alliance, only wanted to have access to the planet of humanity’s origin, and more freedom for ourselves. We never imagined that winning a civil war would drive the religiously driven caretakers of Earth to make it unlivable again. That is the crucible I come from. The Sol system, where Mars is green and glorious, Earth smoulders, and every soul within its sun’s light mourns.” He shook his head.

  “I’ve gotten off track,” he said to himself quietly before going on. “I was lured to the Haven System like so many of you. Like a whisper in the dark that had come to tell me that there was a place where humans were building while presenting open arms to the other races of the galaxy. There is mourning here, but there is a drive to create a truly advanced, democratic place that on one hand has no interest in fighting. Civilians can flourish in peace without fear that their personal ambitions will send them to a prison of debt, where they can become their best selves without worrying about where their next meal will come from, whether or not their home will be there when they return, or that they will lose dear friends and loved ones. On the other side of Haven is the tenacious fighting spirit to protect that lifestyle and to expand responsibly so millions of survivors of all races can enjoy it, enrich it with their diversity and have time to find peaceful, common ground. We fight ferociously, but intelligently so we can bring this vision to the galaxy and become obsolete as warriors. I may never see the day, but I will fight for the morning when many of you retire because the fight has come to an end. I may never see the day, but I fight so many of you can eventually put your guns into lockers, point the nose of your ships and become explorers and ambassadors. I may never see the day, but I fight harder still so the civilians I defend can someday look to the sky and instead of seeing endless war and fear the possibility of impending invasion but a sky filled with inviting stars. I was born on Earth in a place called New Chicago, and even after my family left, we still looked to our greatest icon, the eagle flying free, when we dreamt of equality and safety. The carrier you will serve on, the Eagle, was named to celebrate her purpose; that is to defend Tamber and the Haven System, where the seeds of a free society have been planted. Welcome to the dream, now let’s defend it with all our wit and vigour.”

  The Captain didn’t spare the officers gathered in the briefing room a glance but turned and left as applause followed him. One of his underlings, a tall, extremely thin Lieutenant Commander, spoke as though he was barking. “Most of you officers know where you’re going now. Brief your people and get them prepared to perform their duties at their temporary posts. The rest of you, the late comers, are free to leave for now. Your temporary assignments will come through sometime in the next three hours, so stand ready and watch your comms for more information on where yo
u will be posted once the Eagle is ready. Dismissed.”

  Yawen looked from her comm unit to Alice, the rank of Ensign marked on her shoulder. “The first part of my instructions just came through; You’re my commander,” she said. “Guess losing all those points put me down a rung or two.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alice replied quietly as most of the officers made their way from the room.

  “At least I know who I’m under,” Yawen replied. “Still no rank showing on your uniform.”

  Alice checked her command and control unit and shook her head. “My military rank and post are still blocked. There must be something wrong, I’m putting in a request for clarification.”

  “But it’s all part of the grand design. What am I doing in the meantime, boss?” Yawen asked with a smirk.

  “Let’s go meet a pair of Admirals,” Alice said.

  Yawen chucked for a moment, then stopped. “Wait, you’re serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Four

  To Embrace A System

  * * *

  The worst state of captivity follows you wherever you go. It is invisible and relentless. A prison only the captive can see. He was once again known as The Beast, no longer the Overlord. Within his mind he was increasingly something else; simply Clark Patterson.

  His Issyrian senses were useless aboard the Glorious. He was surrounded by crewmembers in fully sealed suits whenever he was allowed out of his chambers. The white and dark green halls revealed nothing about his location inside the gargantuan base ship. He was seen by the soldiers and gave commands as he was instructed.

  There was no choice in his existence, someone well out of sight was using an implant to make him walk where he was supposed to be seen next, to do and say whatever they commanded, then to return to his rejuvenation pool when they were finished with him. Clark knew the control implant they put in his head was still there, but he couldn’t feel it anymore.

  Before it was like a strong presence in his mind, and to his physical senses it was like a loose tooth he tried to jostle free. He couldn’t help but toy with it, try to tamper with it in hopes that it would fail. Then, one morning perhaps a week ago, he couldn’t feel it anymore. It must have still been there, since he was still not in control, but there was no more annoyance, or any sensation that it was there.

  That was a problem. Before he had something to fight, something to try to extract himself, but now he could only make shallow attempts to move on his own or hold the words he was being forced to say back and it never worked.

  That afternoon his imprisoned gait took him to an office somewhere in the most armoured section of the ship. He passed through a set of heavy doors and found himself in a room filled with intelligence officers reviewing holograms and screens. “Welcome, Patterson,” Dron said. “Follow me.”

  Clark Patterson nearly fell to the floor as his body was suddenly released to him. The urge to lunge at Dron and take his throat into his hands was irresistible. Clark tried, and found himself stuck still for the duration of the attempt.

  “Your attempt to attack comes from ignorance and impatience,” Dron said coolly. “I should be your enemy, but I am not.”

  The analysts around Clark glanced at him uneasily. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he looked like a monster. Part human, but also Issyrian, Edxian and framework, with hard, crimson plates grown atop his skin that shifted and scraped together as he moved. The wary looks of the people around him was a clear reminder. Dron had never shrunk away, and only ever averted his eyes as a gesture of respect, though that may have been faked.

  No effort to attack Dron led to movement. He wasn’t in full control after all.

  “I have an office just here,” Dron said. “I have some things to tell you."

  He followed him into an office that was alive with light. Ship movements and solar systems drifted through the air holographically. With a gesture, Dron dismissed them. His dark green uniform was perfect - a jacket over a simple cloth textured suit with the rank of Overlord on his shoulder. The door closed behind Clark and he stood in front of it.

  “You are here because I decided that taking vengeance on you wasn’t practical. I would say that my desire for it decreases faster all the time. My brother was a misguided creature. Lister Hampon was ruled by his obsessions, the worst of which was the Victory Machine and the messages it sent him. The best, most useful was the creation of this Order of Eden. This imperfect system that was built atop an even more imperfect system.”

  “Your brother was Lister Hampon?” Clark asked.

  Dron nodded. “I’ve decided it’s time to reveal everything to a certain few. You played a part in his downfall, and even though he was a half mad psychopath, everyone would understand if I took revenge. I will take control instead. You were a poor overlord. You have good military habits, I’ll admit, but you were a terrible delegator, an uninspiring leader, and your strategies are rudimentary at best. There’s something else too. You are a beast of too many races. I’d never accuse you of being sentimental, because you barely remember what it was to be human. You and Eve have wasted your opportunities as leaders. Not to be too harsh, but you’re more iconic freaks than anything else. The order runs well despite you, not because of you. I’m amazed no one else has picked up your leash.”

  “How am I supposed to respond to that?” Clark asked. He could imagine crossing the room and tearing Dron to pieces, but not act on it. “Is there a point?”

  “The point? I’m only telling you what you need to know so you understand what’s about to happen to you. I have complete control over every creature with our framework technology installed. My people have a complete understanding of how your physiology works, and what improvements we can apply to a new generation of Order Knight volunteers. Your experimentation has led to some incredible advancements, but your usefulness has come to an end. There is one thing I need to know before moving forward though. What did you do with the three framework copies of Valent that were aboard the Overlord? Did you hide them? Activate them and set them free? Destroy them?”

  Clark did his best to avoid thinking about the Valents he discovered in stasis. They were fully imprinted with Jonas Valent’s memories. Too dangerous to keep. He thought about his predicament, being trapped in his own body, unable to act on his urge to put Dron back in his place.

  “You destroyed them, didn’t you?” Dron asked as he looked at his command and control unit. He brought up a life-sized image of Jonas Valent. “You destroyed all three?”

  “Dammit,” Clark muttered as the memory of recycling the framework skeletons and disposing of the flesh that was Valent two, three, and four. He was tempted to activate one, to see what he would do, but that seemed cruel. They were all test subjects, and each thought they were the real Jonas Valent.

  “Destroyed them,” Dron said. “Just as well. One Jacob Valent is enough. So, we’re going to put you to sleep now and modify your memories so you believe you are The Beast, a fully devout member of the Order and my personal hand. You will recall that Freeground Fleet murdered your family and friends, and that you joined the Order to fight them and anyone who would oppose us. You will be grateful to me as your mentor and defend me with your life. When you wake up all this,” he gestured towards the rough plates covering Clark, “will be just an experimental armour that will help you lead Order Knights. Your Issyrian senses will be gone. Your new memories will justify and detail how you surrendered the rank of Overlord and backed my elevation to that level. The Order will thank you for it. Goodbye, Beast. Goodbye Clark Patterson,” Dron said, turning away.

  “I’ll remember something, and I’ll turn against you.”

  “Not soon enough to make any kind of difference. You’ll be seeing some action in your new life. I’m sure you’ll earn a great deal of glory before dying for the cause.”

  Once again, Clark lost control of his body as he turned towards the door and walked through. His mind started to feel numb, thought slowing and becomin
g more difficult until the world faded completely.

  Five

  Reunions

  * * *

  “I’m happy to be part of your unit, no matter how I fit in,” Yawen told Alice as they waited for the small secondary transit car to take them to the bay where the Clever Dream was being prepared to undergo a refit that would remake the ship entirely. “Honestly, I’m a ‘boots on the ground’ kind of soldier, commanding from the middle.” Her thick Northern Irish accent was in full evidence. “You’re more of a big picture commander, I’ve always seen it, always said it.”

  “I don’t think they pushed me up too far. I’m putting a request in for information on my assignment and rank, this is ridiculous,” Alice said, quickly navigating the menus on her command and control unit. The windowless transit car hummed and shifted along as she waited for a response from the system, and then her uniform changed. The slash markings of her rank appeared on her shoulders and cuffs.

  “Lieutenant, Junior Grade,” Yawen said, sighing and pushing her hand through her short blonde hair. “With the mark of Captain for the Clever Dream. Looks like they’re setting you up with a lot of responsibility; better you than me.”

  Alice knew that her former roommate and friend was covering. Being put in your place hurt most of the time, and Yawen came straight out of a war where she was a hero against the Order of Eden, went into regimented training where she didn’t shine as brightly as she expected, and ended up under someone who didn’t have as rich a history. No matter how close they were as friends, it had to hurt. “You’re a great field commander, I’ll be taking orders from you soon enough.”