An End tst-2

by Paul Evan Hughes

  “This whole fucking ship is a tracking device.”

  “Well, there’s not much else out here.”

  “Not in this system, but there were other vessels in the Outer. Other members of the Extinction Fleet, and the prison galleons from the saved worlds. We’ll run into one eventually.”

  “We’ll run into one soon. I’m sure Mother’s already dispatched the whole fleet to come get you, and to kill me.”

  “We can’t think like that.”

  “I can.”

  The silence was unbearable. Lilith curled into Hunter’s chair, squeezed him. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  “It would be safer if we split up. I could hide you on a galleon and start the return to—”

  “You can’t go back without me.”

  “It’s the only—”

  She took his face in her hands. Eyes locked. “You can’t go without me.”

  Hunter kissed the side of her cheek, rubbed his nose along hers, inhaled her scent and knew. He turned to look out at the system. There’d been something tickling him at the base of his neck for so long, since they’d first arrived from the flux…Since they’d first begun to orbit the target world. He sat up. Lilith adjusted.

  “Archimedes online.”

  beep click. online.

  “Cartographics.”

  online. A grid appeared in the forward bridge bubble, superimposed with crystalline perfection.

  “Highlight target system planets.”

  done.

  “Jesus…Look at that.”

  The system was huge. There had to be dozens of planets highlighted by System’s cartographic overlay.

  Lilith frowned. “There’s something wrong with them.”

  “Yeah. Arch, extrapolate and display orbital patterns.”

  beep click. done.

  “It’s so—”

  “It’s chaos.” Instead of planets orbiting along a central plane, almost every world moved independently. Several debris fields indicated where planets had actually collided. Something had severely damaged the natural orbital pattern of this solar system. “Arch, what could have caused this?”

  click beep. analysis implies that this was once a binary system.

  “Reconstruct.”

  The rotating balls of holographic light fell neatly and fluidly into two distinct orbital patterns, horizontal and vertical. It was a magnificent dance, the ballet of light pathways, gravity wells, almost-intersections. At the center of the vertical plane, Archimedes reconstructed the missing star of the binary system.

  Hunter shook his head. “It’s still too empty. Fill in the holes where any missing planets should be.”

  Forty new points of light joined the dance.

  Hunter looked at Lilith, back at the cartograph. “Okay. Okay…So where would one star and a few dozen planets disappear to?”

  “I’m so sorry.” Hunter felt all of his energy, all of his vitality pour from his body at the man’s touch. Hannon’s touch, for that is what that silken mental embrace felt like. He was a stranger, but so remarkably familiar…“I never knew—”

  Hannon smiled the sad smile of ancient resignation. “Of course you never knew, Zero.” He leaned in close to the incapacitated Hunter, gently, tenderly kissed his forehead, tousled his hair. The gesture was so kind, so loving. Who was this man?

  With a wave of his hand, the beams of light holding Hunter suspended in the air slowly faded, lowered him to floor level, where he stood, weakly rubbing his hands over the cold gooseflesh of his forearms. Hannon’s head tilted in concern and then understanding, and he removed his black overcoat and wrapped it around Hunter’s shoulders.

  “Come on, son. There’s much to talk about, and so little time.”

  “Arch?” Descending waves of deja vu. Hunter blinked.

  click beep. online.

  “Display positions of any Fleet vessels within range.”

  beep click. done.

  Lilith squeezed his hand, inhaled sharply. Hunter’s heart sank. The system display was encircled by a collapsing cloud of new pinpricks of light.

  “Identify closest vessel.”

  The targeting reticule highlighted a single firefly in the black of the Outer. fleet destroyer rebecca.

  “Time to intercept?”

  at light X, rebecca will intercept in three standard days.

  “It was a binary system. When your Extinction Fleet first made an appearance, we were able to hide one of our stars here. This vessel is all we have left.”

  Hunter touched the miles of glass before him, which greeted his fingertips with a cool, static attraction. The airlock door cycled open beside him.

  “You have the technology to place a solar system inside of a vessel?”

  Hannon scoffed. “Not the entire system. Just one star and forty planets. The others were left behind, where Mother’s fleet eventually got to them. We’ve been hiding in the Outer ever since your genocide spread this far.”

  Hunter slumped against the glass in realization. Hannon made no move to help him up this time, but stood behind him, arms crossed. Hunter looked at the assembled black-robed men standing in formation on either side of the airlock, watching him. Silent. Expressions of such loss on their faces…

  “No women. Mother’s fleet—”

  “Your fleet, Zero. Of course, you never knew. Your Fleur never knew. You were just following orders. The virus killed them all, even after we escaped with half of the system under shield. The catalyst was at work even before the final seal was welded into place.”

  “I never—

  —understand your contorted schemes, my sweet.” Whistler chuckled, raised the wine glass to his lips, paused. “But that is what makes you so attractive.”

  Maire smiled.

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “There should have been a tight-beam report from the girl’s ship days ago. They’ve fallen silent. I need you to find out where they are, what they’re doing.”

  Sip. Nod.

  “Tallis wouldn’t have just fallen off-scope.”

  “So you think they’ve found him? They’ve pulled the plug?”

  “Either that, or—”

  “They’ve been destroyed?”

  “Maybe.”

  Whistler shook his head. “Somehow, I think you’d know if they were dead. If She were dead.”

  “Maybe.”

  Eyebrows arched.

  “Well, I’ve been having some trouble lately. I can’t feel her as I used to.”

  “She’s stronger than you now.”

  Maire’s fingertips tapped the table.

  “She’s starting to frighten you. You’re starting to wonder if it wouldn’t have been more prudent to kill your homeworld yourself.”

  “Whistler, I—”

  He waved away her comment. “I understand. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Mother. I’ll go get her.”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “What?”

  Maire retrieved a silver projector and rolled it across the table. Whistler picked it up.

  “Who’s this?”

  “Go ahead. Turn it on.”

  Whistler gave the silver a squeeze and tossed the ball into the air. With a flash, a third person entered Maire’s chamber.

  “Who is he?”

  The man smoothed his black robe.

  “Lilith has become too close to a member of her crew. In his last report, Brendan Tallis told me that She was spending too much time alone with his XO. His name’s Hunter Windham…An interesting story. I want you to replace him with this. It took a few tries to get him right, but she shouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

  “This is an emulation of my target?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what should I call you, boy?”

  Hunter’s emulation looked from Maire to Whistler.

  “Call me Seven.”

  “Why Seven?”

  Maire leaned forward, sipp
ed her wine. “Like I said,” she wiped her lips, “it took a few tries to get him right.”

  Whistler walked slowly around Seven, scrutinizing the projection. He lifted the young man’s chin up, used his black-gloved fingers to part the projection’s lips. Seven stepped back and grabbed Whistler’s hand with a swiftness that startled even Maire.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Whistler grinned. “If this is the best you could do, I’d hate to see Messieurs One through Six.”

  Maire studied her wine.

  “When do we leave and what do we drive?”

  “There’s a corvette in the launch pipe.”

  “Light X?”

  “And then some.”

  “Good.”

  “You’ll leave now.”

  Whistler walked to Maire’s side, took her hand, kissed it. “I shall miss you intensely, mon chere.”

  “Of course you will, James.” She smiled, waved her hand over the control panel on her desktop. Whistler and Seven’s projections snapped to a static halt, the silver machines instantly uploaded to the waiting corvette.

  She sighed, inhaled. More wine. The door alert chimed.

  “Come in.”

  Whistler walked into the chamber, his simper and stride denoting his amusement. He took a seat in front of Maire, poured more wine into “Whistler’s” glass.

  “He really thinks he’s me?”

  “He does, and he does, and you do.”

  His glass paused halfway to his lips. “Don’t play that game with me. I know who I am.”

  “Of course you do, James darling.”

  The wine was as good as it could be.

  He cleared his throat. “You look younger today.”

  Maire leaned back in her chair, the smile of politics dissembling slowly from her face.

  “You can leave tomorrow.”

  “You aren’t planning to—”

  “I don’t have to tell you my plans.”

  “Don’t start anything without me, Maire.”

  The silence hung in the stillness between them, an unwelcome participant in the history of an extinction.

  Maire cleared her throat.

  “You can take this with you.” She handed him a silver projector.

  “And this would be number…” He counted on his fingers. “Eight?”

  “It is Nine.”

  Whistler frowned. “Did I miss something?”

  “The Eight is presently indisposed. He’ll be delivering something in person to the target Windham.”

  “A slow and painful demise?” He grinned.

  “A Machine.”

  “What sort of machine?”

  “The machinery of night. It will be an end of sorts for young Hunter Windham.”

  “His father served us well. He finally located the—”

  “He did, but his son has become far too problematic. He must be sent away.”

  Whistler nodded. He held the silver ball up to the light. “This one will work.” He looked into Maire’s colorless eyes. “I won’t fail you.”

  “I know, James. Just bring her home. It’s time to begin

  draining from the chamber after the vessel slammed to a halt. She surged forward against her restraints, her curls lazily swimming out before her, reaching for something that her half-decade could not yet comprehend. She heard the muffled clang of metal against metal, felt the pressure within the chamber change. Exhausted eyes looked at the top of her prison, where she could see the phase flux level dropping quickly. The surface fell to the level of the top of her head, continued withdrawing. She strained upward, her nose and mouth rising above the flux surface, gasping as she vomited the invasive gel from her stomach, coughed it from her respiratory system. She shook her head, the oily silver spattering from her hair, drizzling from her ears, eyes, nose. Tear ducts released and mercury stained her cheeks. Lily was left wet with the dissolving flux, belted into her chair, shivering with the freeze of deep space.

  The last traces of the phase drained from the room and the air began to warm.

  How long..?

  The child sobbed, replacing silver tears with clear and salt.

  The chamber door sparked with static release and opened across the walkway before her.

  Nan?

  The angel strode across the catwalk to the restraint node in the chamber’s center. It looked Lily over from head to toe, checked a monitor just out of the child’s vision besind her. The restraint hub on her chest sighed with pneumatic release and lifted. The chair freed her arms and legs.

  “Nan?”

  “Are you in pain?”

  Lily frowned. She didn’t think she hurt, but she wasn’t sure. She knew she was afraid, but she didn’t know exactly what hurt.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re bruised. We’ll take them away.”

  “Okay.”

  The angel lifted the child from the seat.

  “Nan?” but she knew it wasn’t. This angel was different. Lily couldn’t feel the

  “No. You may call me System. Or Arch.”

  “Ark? Like Noah and the animals?”

  The machine frowned. “What?”

  “You look like Nan.”

  “Call me Arch. Like Noah and the animals.”

  The child smiled. “It’s cold here.”

  “It will get warmer.”

  “Are we home again?”

  The angel carried Lily across the walkway toward the chamber entrance. “No.”

  “Where are we?”

  “This is your new home. We’re between the stars now.”

  “Can I play with the boys now?”

  “Maybe for a little while.”

  “Arch?”

  “Yes?” The chamber door cycled open.

  “Can I have some chocolate milk?”

  He fell from his vacuum chair into a withdrawing puddle of flux, splashing the lazy fluid up with a meaty slap. He heard similar splashes all around him, but his eyes didn’t work. He couldn’t see.

  The little boy pushed himself to all fours, sat back and wiped gelatin-slick hair from his face, scrunched his fingers into his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision. He couldn’t stop coughing. Vomiting. He’d had the flu once. This is how it had felt.

  Blink, blink. He heard crying.

  Metal crash and warm wind filled the room. The floor was drying.

  Click and the room was red. His eyesight hadn’t disappeared; the lights had just been off. Now, he saw everything as it must have looked in Hell. Mommy had whispered to him about the places they’d go after this world: one was happiness and clouds and angels, and one was fire and red and screaming. From the screaming and crying and red, Hunter wondered if he had died. He wondered if he’d done something wrong and ended up where the bad people went when they died.

  The lights grew brighter.

  A giant snap like the firecrackers that his father had brought him, set off down in the sand by the water. Hunter jumped. The room shimmered as phase shielding dissembled.

  There was a smaller boy sitting on the floor beside Hunter. He was sobbing. Hunter helped him to his feet.

  “I’m Hunter.”

  Through sniffles: “I’m Br-Brendan.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Where’s Mommy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Brendan covered his face and cried some more. Hunter didn’t know what to do.

  The chamber door slid open with the slosh of phase. Hunter and Brendan looked on with fear and confusion. Other boys stood in silence.

  A procession of angels entered the room, surrounding a middle-aged man in a charcoal gray suit. He looked over the boys with a gaze like fire; Hunter felt he was human. He felt the angels weren’t exactly angels. There was none of that tugging he’d become used to from the projections. Eight, ten, twelve: the angels walked amongst the boys, helped some to their feet, gently held the weeping
, surveyed the little soldiers for damage.

  The man cleared his throat.

  “My name is Captain Pierce. You may call me ‘Uncle.’ Welcome to your new home. His name is Archimedes.”

  An angel bent to Hunter’s level, turned his face from side to side, looked him over. “Do you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “My Mommy’s dead.”

  For an instant, the angel froze, head cocked, as if listening to a voice from within. “Your mother is safe now. You will be reunited with her soon.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Motionless non-human: the pause was longer this time. “Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  The angel didn’t respond, but moved on to Brendan.

  Uncle walked around the room, patted the heads of his new soldiers. “We’ve come a very long way, boys. We have a lot to do. We have a lot to learn. But first, we’ll have something to eat. Who’s hungry?”

  There were a few noncommittal affirmatives.

  “Good. You have to eat and become strong like your fathers!”

  Hunter wondered if Uncle’s father had been killed somewhere between the stars, too. Somewhere deep and black, a place with two stars, where the squeal of shattering glass had been the last sound before—

  “Let’s have some supper, boys!”

  “Three days.” Hunter sighed.

  Lilith cradled his face in her hands. She knew he was thinking…too much.

  “We’ll find a way.” Her eyes to his eyes, her soul to his

  “Arch?”

  yes?

  “Have you met the Rebecca before?”

  outsystem offensive action, fourth extinction air support group.

  “Why don’t I remember that?”

  Lilith held his hands. “We’ve been through so many—”

  “Arch?”

  yes?

  “Where’s she from?”

  rebecca crew ascended upon initial Earth siege.

  “Soldats perdus. City?”

  canberra compound.

  “Fuck.”

  “You’ve heard of them?”

  “Arch, set course and engage.”

  specify destination.

  “Deep Outer, full speed.”

  specify destination.

  “Just fucking fly.” Hunter stood from the vacuum chair, fingers groping through unruly hair. He paced the bridge. “Up bubble three, four, five. Full speed.”