Rise of the Forgotten

by Rebecca Mickley

  “Well, ok, Boss. I’ll give it a try.” She was trying to sound optimistic, but I could tell some part of her worried.

  “I don’t know if I like this. I don’t even know what you’re going to do,” Harper challenged.

  “Look I don’t mean any harm ok. You can wait there and hold the gun on me if that makes you feel better. I’m... just trying to find a way forward in all of this.” He relaxed some in his seat.

  “Alright, alright. As long as she’s ok with it, it’s all groovy,” Harper said, deferring to Jill.

  I reached out, offering my right forepaw to Jill. The southerner in her kicked in and she instinctively reached out and completed the handshake.

  It was the physical connection I needed. With Link established, I pulled her into one of Dawkins’ memories.

  We found ourselves aboard the Roam. The place seemed both familiar and foreign to me. A young, Asian UEA junior officer stood before us, Jim Saito.

  The memory replayed.

  Distantly, I felt her grip tighten.

  “So you're the rabbit the admiral told me about? I'm Jim, Jim Saito. Man, you went farther than my sister, she was more a blend, but you don’t even look human,” he said, smiling down at me.

  “Hare,” came Snow's reply.

  I let it play out, and then gently severed the Link. My reality again became the Excalibur.

  Jill was weeping, tears streamed down her cheeks, her fur wet and soaked in channels like a

  river system. With her hand free, she drew them around herself, and rocked a moment.

  “What the fuck did you do to her?” Harper demanded, angry.

  “It’s fine Jon, It’s fine,” Jill said, her tone stuttering. “I just never expected to see him ever again.”

  “Huh?” An expression of utter confusion was on his face.

  “I shared a memory with her, of her brother. Dawkins was one of the last people that ever saw him alive.”

  “Oh shit,” was his only reply as he turned to comfort Jill.

  More uncomfortable silence. It was agonizing, and I had begun to think I had miscalculated, when finally, Jill spoke up.

  “Thank you,” was all she said, but then she hugged me. The sensation was odd. Ritualistic compression was not something that Snow had ever enjoyed, or Thoth had ever understood, so there I remained, uncomfortable, and mystified, but happy that my trend of failing in the right direction was at least still holding true.

  “Ok campers, I hate to break up this little party, but I’m going to be missed if I don't return soon, and there’s work to be done,” Jon rose, matter of factly.

  “He’s right. I’ll remain here, and wipe what traces remain of my presence, and then fall back to Alpha-889 and await further instructions.” I started the process even before I had finished the sentence.

  “I’d like to remain here,” Jill said, and Harper and I both regarded her with surprise.

  “There is nothing to do on the fourth column but wait. With the Gate network shutting down, no one knows what to do with us yet, so we’re waiting, and to be honest, I’m not exactly enjoying my hallway accommodations. Some quiet would be welcome.” It made sense, and I appreciated her trust, deeply.

  Harper seemed to puzzle something out in his head, then shrugged. “Suit yourself. I think we need to bring Etrana into this little conspiracy. If we can get you aboard the Zulfiqar, diplomatically that's Birdland and firmly outside any current UEA extradition treaty,” Harper explained, as we moved out of the tiny room, and congregated at the entrance of the shuttle bay.

  “I’ll make sure the registration and activation packet for the interceptor gets sent your way. Will you be able to update its numbers if you have to?” Harper asked, quickly addressing last things.

  “The ship and I are built partially off the same code base; we’re practically related,” I replied, and Harper at first looked surprised, then dropped into a thoughtful pose.

  “That’s honestly a first for me. Related you say? The holidays at your household must be interesting.” The devilish grin had returned to his face.

  “You’d love Aunt Bea, she’s a coffee maker, always up on the latest office gossip,” I answered, deciding it was better to go along with the joke.

  They both fell out laughing.

  “Key, I’ll say one thing. You’re a lot funnier now,” Harper praised, and then he fuzzed my ears. “Catch you two crazy kids later,” he said running two fingers off his forehead in a mock salute.

  Chapter 30

  VPNs are useful in a variety of situations.

  Thanks to a bit of clever protocol routing (It was through a third party company, not my own), I was showing to be located near a lunar shipyard.

  I was connected to the 889s systems, having to update a few databases ship-side before letting UEA orbital anywhere near it.

  Harper had it set up where it was now registered as a military vessel under his command office, officially assigned to the security detail around the Zulfiqar. It was a fitting ruse, explaining the flight path I was currently filing with UEA orbital.

  “How are things coming, Key?” Jill asked. She had been quiet most of the day, preferring to pass it mostly in silence, back in the crew compartment.

  “Everything is on schedule. I got the update packet from Harper this morning, and everything's complete on my end. It’s downloading initial patches and registering with UEA orbital now. All sectors report green. I’d say we can get underway in about half an hour.”

  “I’ll make sure everything is secured and ready for flight,” Jill replied, and disappeared again, back into the crew quarters. No sooner had the doors slid closed than I heard the rhythmic pattern of cabinets snapping open and shut.

  The Interceptor was smaller than the LRRC, but not by much. It was configured for a crew of four, and could transport an additional four on top of that. It had a modest med bay, and a closet-sized armory, which, if fully loaded, could have armed the same eight with the latest in UEA weapons and armor. This model, however, was barren of everything, being only intended as a testing model. It was just the ship, and nothing but the ship. Every compartment was empty; there weren't even mattresses in the bunks.

  It was made out of the same material as the LRRC, but its color was black, not silver. That particular coloration had fallen out of favor with the older generation one models. Overall, it was sleeker, faster and far more powerful. Powered by the new HFMA reactors. She could go a year without refueling, and could tolerate a wide range of fuel.

  The technologies that were surging forward as the humans built upon the Treaty of Gates were unleashing a new wave of never before seen technology upon the world.

  I was living proof of that.

  It has been said that while history does not often repeat itself, it loves to speak in rhyme. What was once born forward on a wave of optimism and hope, was now being carried by a convulsion of darkness and fear.

  Still the ship was impressive, but it needed a few things to be complete, especially taking that Jill had needed some place to sleep at night.

  It hadn’t bothered me at all, but for her, the lack of comfortable facilities was a serious challenge, so we had liberated a mattress from one of the Excalibur's quarters, as well as a few other supplies and emergency equipment that no one would miss from the ship's large inventory. It was why there was to be a shakedown. A crew was coming to replace what was missing, and ensure she was ready to serve once again.

  I was simply providing them with job security.

  Shaking my head, I disconnected fully from the ship as it rebooted, applying the last of the updates and changes, including a few customizations saved from the core dump of the LRRC.

  The panels came back to life, and I let myself reconnect and extend out to the ship, familiarizing myself with my new home.

  Twenty minutes ticked by as I watched the happenings of things on the ship's sensors and cameras, testing out the protocols, making sure my connection was solid. Everything checked
out.

  A message was waiting, the notification hanging in my awareness. Finally acknowledging it, I dropped back to my onboard to find Jill standing there.

  “No drool this time,” she said, her voice hiding a smile.

  “As Dawkins said, it was just a calibration issue,” I replied, and we both broke into a short fit of laughter. We had been reconnecting over the past, or were we forging new connections? My unique situation made the terminology fuzzy.

  Was Jill a new friend or an old friend? How much of Dawkins' legacy was my own, and how much would I have to build? The questions danced, as we shared easy laughs and similar memories, all while the time ticked down towards launch.

  “I’ve got clearance from UEA orbital. It’s time we get underway to the Zulfiqar.” With that, Jill helped me belt into the pilot's cockpit as best as my form would allow, and then strapped herself in.

  “Thanks,” I replied simply, and dove into the Interceptor, leaving my onboard behind.

  Initiating the automatic launching procedure, I let the two computers work out how best to exit the shuttle bay, watching at an attentive distance while the Excalibur and the Interceptor transferred data and protocols between each other.

  The ship glided out effortlessly into space. I sent the command for the shuttle bay doors to close, wiped the last traces of our presence from the ship's logs and then sent the remote shutdown request.

  The Excalibur’s lights deactivated in grid-like-chunks, as physical breakers automatically opened. She drifted to sleep against the backdrop of the moon, awaiting her next crew.

  “Alpha-889, this is UEA orbital. Please state position,” came the bored but efficient voice of an orbital traffic controller.

  “Central Command Maintenance Yard Bravo Charlie,” I reported back, beginning a deception.

  “Negative. We’re showing you coming out of Boneyard Apollo,” he countered.

  “This is one of those new Interceptors. You know how calibration issues go with these new models. More software than sense. Stand by, let me reboot the system,” I offered, going through protocol.

  “Roger that,” was the only reply. Quickly, I plotted a course for where the two points would naturally converge had you left either location. Once I was within range, I switched the transponder back on. All according to plan.

  “New position fix. Requesting extrapolation for course verification,” I heard the Orbital controller switch back on.

  “Welcome back Alpha-889, standby. That must have fixed it, extrapolation is good. Have a safe flight, watch those glitches,” came the good-natured reply from the controller.

  “Roger that. Alpha-889, out.” I cut the com, and followed the green line towards the Corvaldian embassy.

  Chapter 31

  “In accordance with the Treaty of Song and subsequent Corvaldian statutes, I officially request asylum,” I stated in formal tones to Ambassador Etrana; she chirped, warbled and bowed.

  We were standing in the hangar, and I had gone through the now, somewhat routine, series of explanations regarding my appearance, and with that done, was attending to official matters at hand.

  “On behalf of the Corvaldian government, I officially grant asylum to Key, formerly Snow Dawkins, and to Jill Saito, both of UEA government,” came the reply. A small Corvaldian, with less-jeweled adornment checked off a few forms on a tablet, officially documenting.

  “Etrana welcomes the brand new shiny Snow! Yes yes!” she clicked and warbled. Something about her mental makeup seemed to have little trouble with my changes.

  “I’m not Snow, Etrana. Not exactly,” I replied, correcting her.

  Her beak dipped in an act of embarrassed shyness. “Yes, Etrana knows, Etrana has had many friends that shifted before. Most shiny thing. -I- look forward to getting to know you,” she nodded, as if that was the end of the matter.

  For her, I suppose it was.

  Safe, after weeks of running. It was finally time to stop, for a while. A task loomed ominous and large on my horizon.

  There was a considerable parcel of data to go through from my activities in Minot, but I had not yet worked up the courage to access it. The memory of my easy routing at the hands of Erebus had engineered within me a cautiousness and trepidation.

  I didn’t want to open the wrong file, and run the risk of being disabled or worse again. The initial subroutines he had used had been patched and disabled, but I had no idea how many zero day exploits and little surprises he had waiting, lurking within my code-base.

  Existing as Thoth had been a torture of limitations and compulsions that had no approximation in any of Dawkins’ memories. There was a systematic framework of control that had existed to ensure their quiet and placid obedience, by whatever means necessary.

  There was no way I would let that happen again. Thus, with all of my curiosity, and desperation to know, the file sat, sandboxed and un-accessed, deep within archives.

  Forty-five minutes ticked by as I turned it over and over again in my head as we got settled into our quarters aboard the Zulfiqar.

  “Something's eating at you,” Jill spoke up, breaking me out of my quiet reflection.

  “You can tell,” I replied, surprised.

  “You’ve been quiet a long time, Key. Distant. Boss got like that too when she had a lot on her mind,” she answered.

  “The brooding window.” Memories of spending hours looking out at the vastness of space, flowed across my awareness as Jill fell to a fit of giggles.

  “The very same. Doesn’t help that this is an awful lot like the Danube.”

  “Well, the UEA is not exactly known for its boldness in design. Most of the Gen 2s are near identical,” she nodded in agreement as I spoke.

  “So what’s bothering you?” She quickly veered the subject back onto my issue, turning the tables and destroying my blind of small talk.

  “I’ve a treasure trove of data that might help us, that might give me some kind of direction as to what needs to happen next, so we aren’t just stuck on this ship blind to whatever is coming. The fleet is activating, lines in the sand are being drawn. If there’s anything we can do to stop this from falling to war, I think we should. You and Dawkins both worked too hard to see this all go up in flames like this.” Lining it out again helped calm me, as I focused on the task at hand.

  “So what’s the problem then?” she challenged.

  “My systems are not invulnerable to intrusion. I made that mistake in Minot, and Erebus shut me down remotely, was literally minutes away from being captured and compromised. The data came from his terminal, so there is a worry there could be elements hidden within that could again subject me to his influence. That is unacceptable,” I answered, laying out the problem.

  “That sounds bad,” Jill replied, stating the obvious.

  “Bad is an understatement, but I think I have a way around that.” I had been downloading files on Latin for the last hour, and was becoming quite fluent. Languages were just data, like anything else. If I could change the language of the files and then read them, I wouldn’t have to worry about running across any hidden triggers.

  “So what’s stopping you?”

  “The fear of what happens if I’m wrong. I need someone there willing to stun me and shut me down before I can take over the ship.”

  “Oh I’d happily volunteer to help you there,” Jill proffered, a little too quickly.

  “You’re too kind,” I replied, with sarcasm dripping from my tone.

  “Can’t say I never thought about it, I’ll admit, but you never gave me a real good reason,” Jill responded, jovially and we both shared the laugh.

  It became quite the scavenger hunt. The Corvaldians had no concept of a military, and had brought no weapons with them aboard the ship. Alpha-889 was barren, save for what we were able to salvage easily from the Excalibur, and so, our only hope was something left aboard the Zulfiqar. Finally, after a few hours of checking various security checkpoints and offices, we found an old electro baton,
with a quarter charge.

  The sight of it brought back ugly memories from a particular encounter on the Roam, but still it would serve its purpose if it became necessary.

  Jill and I proceeded to the Alpha-889, where we lost another hour as we disengaged certain systems and subsystems aboard that allowed me wireless access. I was doing my best to create a physical sandbox, determined not to be surprised again.

  The table was set, all that remained was carving the roast.

  “Do you think that will do it?” Jill asked, plopping down heavily in the com chair.

  “Should. The Zulfiqar doesn't have the Ascension Protocol; I’d need to access it directly to affect a full takeover, so that left Alpha-889, which we just shut down. Moreover, with you at the ready to fulfill your darkest fantasies, we are about as sandboxed as we can get.” I made a blithe reference to the shock baton in her paws as the memory danced like a heckling demon just behind my eyes.

  “Let’s begin, charge the baton,” I ordered, flatly. Jill simply nodded and switched it on.

  The sound of charging coils was the last thing I heard as I descended into my internal systems.

  My awareness shifted, and I found myself in a dark and seemingly endless room. A shaft of light illuminated me, ascending, relative to my position off into the ether.

  This was my internal construct, the inner most layer of my consciousness. This was a place where I was the undisputed master of the realm, and could work at my most efficient. Here, I could divert all my resources to processing and analysis. Even the simulated environment was only a luxury, easily discarded if necessary.

  I held up my left forepaw, and three constructs appeared before my vision. I was going to run this like an assembly line. The data archive appeared in the window furthest to my left; in the center, I brought up the Latin translation program, leaving the final window for the output of the now, hopefully, safe files.

  I decided to start with the Daedalus Files first. Umbra was, for all intents and purposes, its descendant. So it made sense to start at the beginning.