by Andrew Beery
That caused the big man to freeze in place. These people were his friends. He knew that much. He didn’t understand fully what was happening but he darn sure knew he didn’t want to hurt anybody else.
“I’m sorry,…” he began to say.
At that moment the single door to the room swished open and Admiral Cat Kimbridge walked into the room. Somehow her very presence commanded respect.
“Cat… er Admiral… I… I don’t know…” Again he tried to stand. It was then that he noticed he was naked.
***
Admiral Cat Kimbridge had been on the bridge of the Yorktown when the word came in that Lieutenant Stone was waking up. She immediately rushed to the turbo lift. If her suspicions were correct he was going to be a handful.
Cat had been devastated to learn her friend AG had been killed in the first of what she suspected was going to be many battles with the Ashtoreth. GCP medical technology could do wonders but there had to be something left to work with. Lieutenant Stone was a special case however. The Ashtoreth technology they had recovered from High Orbital One included bio-generation chambers designed to create enhanced organic replicants of a living template. Cat suspected the Ashtoreth had been covertly replacing strategically placed GCP personnel for a number of years. Replicants were bio-engineered and then implanted with their doppelganger’s memories.
One interesting feature of the technology was its ability to transfer a synaptic copy of brain engrams. It was this ability that Cat had adapted to create a teaching system. Basically she mapped domains of experience corresponding to the skill she wanted to transfer from an experienced teacher to an inexperienced student. The procedure required the implantation of specially designed nanites into the recipient’s brain in order to transfer and fine-tune the engrams. Once implanted, said nanites could continuously monitor and transmit the interconnection status of every neuron within the brain. The Yorktown was able to store this information although it was impossible to fully decode it in anything other than an organic brain.
Sergeant, now Lieutenant, Stone had been one of the first volunteers to try the new technology. As a result Cat had a complete and up-to-date copy of his memories. She used the Ashtoreth Bio-Generation Chamber to replicate a new enhanced body for her friend based on samples of his DNA. The Faragon replicants had possessed greatly enhanced strength and speed as a result of the modifications the BGC had made to the Faragon template. Cat didn’t know enough about the technology to radically alter its programming. Nor, to be fair, was she inclined to do so. If the enemy had access to supermen then the GCP would need them too. Once the replicant was complete, she transferred the recorded copy of his mind at the time of his physical death to the waiting host.
The result was a living, breathing duplicate of her friend and officer. The procedure was not unlike what the Heshe had done with her some three hundred years earlier when she had died on the surface of Mars while saving the life of Yarin. The biggest difference was the Heshe had needed to recreate her engrams from a detailed forensic analysis of her deceased brain. It was a daunting task that had taken the highly advanced Heshe the better part of fifty years to accomplish.
By having a stored copy of Lieutenant Stone’s mind on hand, she had be able to step past that particular roadblock. Still, to her knowledge, no one in the GCP had attempted what she was now doing. If she was successful not only would she get her officer back but she would create a powerful weapon in the coming fight against the Ashtoreth. She suspected it was a weapon they would need.
There were of course, a host of ethical concerns. Going forward volunteers for the engram teaching program would need to sign a waiver permitting or explicitly revoking the GCP’s right to resurrect a person who was lost. Also, strong protocols would need to be put in place to ensure only one copy of an individual existed at any given moment in time. Should an accident occur that resulted in multiple replicants (or an original and a replicant) the law would have to give legal status to the duplicate while protecting the full rights of the elder doppelganger.
She stepped into the medical bay. Doctor Pulaski was helping a member of her staff with what appeared to be a broken arm. Lieutenant Stone was struggled to get up from where he had fallen off the table.
He said, “Cat… er Admiral… I… I don’t know…”
That was good Cat thought to herself. It meant his memories were beginning to integrate. Cat grabbed a surgical gown off the supply cart and draped it about the man’s shoulders. No one served in the military for any great length of time without becoming accustomed to seeing their fellow soldiers in the buff. Still he deserved his dignity.
She helped him stand. He looked a couple of years younger than she remembered but she supposed that was a function of the bio-generation chamber. Perhaps a default setting that returned an individual to the peak of their youth. It was interesting because the Faragon replicants had clearly not been bio-generated in such a youthful form.
He was amazingly strong. Being enhanced herself there was very little likelihood that he could hurt her—even accidently.
“Do you know who you are?” Cat prompted.
“I’m Sergeant Anthony Stone,” the big man responded after a second.
Cat looked at him with a quizzical expression.
“Wait,” he added after a moments pause. “Doctor Pulaski called me Lieutenant. I’m Lieutenant Anthony Stone. You just promoted me when I earned my flight wings. I’m a Marine.”
“Very good Lieutenant. It’s good to have you back. I dare say you gave us a bit of a scare.”
“I’m not dead?” He looked at his arms and knew that in those brief moments after the enemy vessel had rammed his scorpion that his torso, to include his arms had been blown away. He remembered being too the cold and the coming darkness. He shivered briefly.
“Is it too cold in here?” Cat asked.
“No Admiral, it’s just that I remember… dying.”
Cat smiled. “Trust me, I’ve been there, done that. I’ve even gotten the tee shirt. It’s not something you will ever get comfortable with… but you will get over it.”
“So did I… Did I die?” He asked in a soft voice.
“I suppose you did… but death isn’t what it used to be and I think you just moved the bar a little further.”
She looked at her friend and she suddenly remembered her own feelings the first time she awoke in a white room with the Heshe known as Yarin. The doubts and occasional self-loathing. The questions in her mind… was she even human?… was she alive?… where was her soul?… was she still a ‘beloved of the Creator?’
She didn’t have all the answers but she was self-aware… she loved… she was loved. That was enough for her. It might take time but it would be enough for Lieutenant Stone too.
***
Asdartu rose in anger. Two wings of strike fighters had been deployed to erase the mistakes made in the Hupenstanii system. They had failed! His brother Astarte would hold him responsible for this setback. The three pilots that had returned brought with them the bitter news of the defeat. He had them executed immediately. He needed his soldiers to know that retreat from the field of battle was never an option. Perhaps the next taskforce he sent would be more fully committed.
He tapped his communicator. “Signal my brother,” he barked at his assistant. “Ready my shuttle for immediate departure.”
As he made his way to the rooftop landing pad he grabbed a few dardania nuts out of a bowl and began to crush them between his teeth. They were an acquired taste… slightly bitter and slightly toxic but they would dull the pain of the flogging he was about to receive at the hands of his brother. Fortunately he knew his brother could not kill him – not for something as minor as this; but his brother would not hesitate to make an example of him in front of his court. The king could not be seen as weak… not and maintain his throne.
The shuttle flight to the king’s palace was mercifully short. As he departed the craft he ordered the pilot to pick up his per
sonal medical staff. They would be needed shortly. One could never be too careful about health care. His staff knew that he had standing orders in place to execute their families should he die under their care. He liked that level of incentive. It kept people sharp and on their toes.
The palace was, in every way, opulent as befitting the god anointed king of the Ashtoreth people. He knew from his earlier message that his brother was receiving him in the main throne room. He had removed his shirt before he entered. His brother would know the news was bad and he was here to receive his just due for allowing a failure to occur under his watch.
As he entered the throne room he bowed deeply and utter the ritual words of meeting. “Behold the sun yet rises. Behold the heavens yet gleam. All is well in the kingdom while our most beloved king yet lives.”
King Astarte looked up from a computer display built into the arm of his throne. “Well met, brother mine. I take it all has not proceeded as planned?”
“It has not, my brother and my king. A renegade faction within the GCP has proven more troublesome than we anticipated. My tacticians are currently planning a second attempt to secure our goals. I have their families under guard. They are… completely motivated… to develop a foolproof plan of engagement.”
King Astarte waved his brother over to the whipping point. “For your sake they best not fail.”
Chapter 16: What Makes a Man…
Lieutenant Stone sat quietly in the Yorktown’s small chapel. He was meeting the captain here at the captain’s request. It had been two days since he had awoken… if that was the word he could use… in the med bay.
They were two days he was not keen to remember. It had taken him the better part of an hour to get even minimally comfortable controlling his new body. He was strong… uncomfortably strong. It was like wearing a stark suit all the time. Every movement he made was too fast. Everything he touched he broke. It got so bad that Doctor Pulaski ordered her staff orderlies to put on their own stark suits just so that he could be assisted safely.
The first evening he had trouble sleeping in the med bay so the doctor suggested that he return to his quarters. At first it had seemed like a good idea. The surroundings were familiar but he was haunted by the persistent thought that these were another man’s quarters. The memories of the people he saw in the various photographs were of people who had never met this version of whatever the hell he was. The memories themselves were not even real. They were at best a high-fidelity copy of someone else’s experiences.
By the second morning it was obvious that he was coming apart at the hinges. Every thought he had; every physical mistake he made because of his speed and strength; all served to remind him that whoever he was… whatever he was… he was no longer Lieutenant Anthony Grant Stone. He was something out of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein novel.
The last thing Admiral Kimbridge needed was an uncontrollable monster roaming the halls of the Yorktown in the middle of a crisis. Doctor Pulaski finally suggested he see one of the ship’s chaplains. Reluctantly he put in the request. Most GCP ships of the fleet had three chaplains assigned to them. The Yorktown was somewhat unique in that she had four. The captain was the fourth.
The door to the small chapel swished open and Captain Ken Kirkland walked in. He wore a red monk’s habit as this was his order’s clerical garb. His bushy red beard pushed out from beneath the raised cowl. As he entered the chapel he bowed his head towards the ornate cross on the wall and then stood straight and pulled his hood back and smiled.
“AG, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you up and about.” The Captain said warmly using Stone’s nickname. It touched him that the Captain would do so… and yet. Was the nickname truly his or to the man he was replacing? Did Stone have the right to claim it as his own?
“Captain, I…”
“Son, in this room I am not the Captain. I am just like you… a lost soul looking for answers and comfort and hope.”
Stone looked at the older man. “Then what…”
“Call me Ken or Father Ken… whatever you are comfortable with. Just not Captain.”
“Ok Sir”
“And not Sir!”
Lieutenant Stone chuckled nervously. “Some habits are hard to break… Ken… Father Ken”
“Better,” the older man said kindly. “I understand you might be fighting through some issues regarding a medical intervention undertaken on your behalf.”
“Sir… Father…” He looked up at the other man. “This is rather more than a ‘medical intervention.’” He swept a hand in front of his entire body. “Am I even human anymore? Am I a man?”
“Let me ask you son, what makes a man?”
“I’m not sure I understand…”
“It’s a simple enough question. Philosophers have been asking the same question since the first human dared to have a coherent thought. What makes a man… a man?”
“I suppose your DNA…”
“Nonsense!” Ken barked. “Commander Ben First… is he a man?”
“Of course he is… Sir – Father”
Ken smiled at the Lieutenant’s inability to forget he was the Captain. He would have to loosen the man up if he were going to get anywhere.
“Ben is half D’rlalu, half machine… what makes him a man?” Ken asked.
“He thinks… he feels…”
“He loves. He is alive. He thinks. He can ask the questions: Am I right or am I wrong?”
Ken looked at the younger man. He carefully took the man’s hands knowing full well that the other had the ability to crush his.
“You have traveled a road very few of us have. But because you have traveled it, a large number of us might yet travel that very same road. Are you the same entity that piloted that scorpion and defended the lives of not just everyone on this ship but also on that world down below us? Maybe… maybe not. But you are the best part of that man. You are what made him who and what he was. Now you have a decision to make.”
Lieutenant Stone stood very still. To be honest he was afraid of crushing the Captain’s hands. “What decision is that Father Ken?”
“You have to decide what makes a man a man. Is it his flesh and bones… or is it his sense of right and wrong. Is it his ability to die? Or is it his ability to live and love?”
Ken stepped away from the younger man and walked up to the altar of the small chapel.
“We chaplains serve the needs of all beings of faith without regard to the nature of that faith. But I am a member of a Christian sect. Do you know what that means?”
“I do Father. My grandmother took us kids to church every Sunday. I was baptized when I was fourteen.”
“One of the most meaningful things said in the Christian Bible, if you believe it, transcends all other faiths. It comes from a letter written by one of the original disciples. In this letter the disciple says that ‘God is love.’ I believe with all my soul that our ability to love and be loved is a reflection of the divine within us.”
Ken touched the base of the bronze cross. “Now, I know there are those who do not believe and will never believe in a Divine Creator. That is their choice to make and I respect their decision. My faith is not contingent on their faith. But here is the beauty of what that disciple had to say; whether a person believes or not… that person has the ability to love and be loved.”
“Even the non-believer can be a reflection of the divine,” Stone said softly.
“Exactly. The person we Christians say died on this cross changed the world with his death. That is an undisputable fact of history… even for the non-believer. His death was a death undertaken as an act of love. Love is what makes both life and death have value. That is true whether you are a believer or not.
“My point, son, is a simple one. You died. Through technology we are just beginning to understand, you or some semblance of you, lives again. You must decide if you still understand what it is to love and be loved. Are you still a man – even given that you may not be exactly the sam
e man?”
Lieutenant Stone thought of the lovely Doctor Janice Pulaski. He thought of the chances that might yet be. He knew the choice he was going to make. He looked up at his commanding officer.
“Sir, and I use that title deliberately, I choose to be what I am. I am a Marine. I’ve been to hell and back – and I’ll go again if need be to fight for what is right.”
Ken struck out his hand. “Welcome back trooper.”
***
One week later Lieutenant Anthony Stone was walking an inspection line in the Yorktown’s primary hold. Thirty six Marines, a light company, stood at attention as he walked the lines. He stopped every few feet to pause and look at the troop he was standing in front of. The man or woman in question would stand just a little bit taller, just a little bit prouder. These were the best of the best. They were marines and they were his marines.
The marine he was standing in front of this moment was Staff Sergeant Jeremy James Hammond. Hammond was top of his class in all proficiency tests and yet the man had an almost inhuman proclivity for getting into trouble. Usually said trouble came in the form of poor impulse control with regard to his mouth. Still, there was not a man here that Lieutenant Stone would rather have with him in the trenches. That was probably why they were the best of friends.
“Looking sharp JJ,” Stone said as he reviewed his uniform. He like all the marines in the room were now wearing naval aviator wings.
“One of us has to sir,” Hammond replied in his typical Geordie accent. Stone’s eyes twinkled but he said nothing.
These men and women were members of Yorktown’s Marine Assault Contingent. They had each received the same synaptic copy of fighter pilot training engrams care of specialized cerebral nanites that he had.
“Contingent! Stand at ease!” Stone barked in a voice that had no trouble filling the large room.
Immediately the marines in the room assumed a precision stance with their feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind back.