Rise of the Forgotten

by Rebecca Mickley

  “Easy, I agree, I’m just used to being the one that makes 'suggestions'.” He put special emphasis on that last word.

  I got the point.

  “Fair enough. I’m sorry. There seems so little we, no... there seems so little I can do, that I’m desperate to get it right. You don’t know how terrible it is to not be in control of your own mind,” I explained, my words growing distant, as recollections haunted me like demons in my own personal hell.

  Some would regard my ability at perfect or near perfect recall as a gift, but there were times when it was a curse. I remembered every scrap of data, every tiny detail, every mistake and every sin.

  Yet, Project Umbra was showing clearly that I only remembered, at best, a part of it, and I wondered, could I be fully myself, without all of my memories? How much of my history could I forget and still be me? How much had I forgotten already?

  There would be time to chase that spiral later, so I pushed it out of my mind.

  “It’s alright, Key,” Harper replied. “If there’s anything I can do,” he offered, and I quickly jumped on it.

  “Actually there is. I need your help to access a classified UEA file; I’m pretty certain you’re one of the only ones that can,” I said, swinging back around to the last piece of the puzzle, Daedalus.

  “Aw, and I thought you had forgotten how much I love to violate the Espionage Act,” Harper replied, again disguising his nervousness with humor.

  “I know, but I don’t have many other options. My access only takes me so far, and I doubt that even by linking fully with 889, I’d have the ability to crack it on my own. I need more power,” I explained, he was really my only hope to get in, for the next two weeks at least.

  “You caught me on the right day. I’m not too keen on helping them keep many secrets right now. Needless to say, let’s keep the audience down to just us three,” he said. It was a perfectly reasonable request.

  I called out to Jill, and she quickly joined from the other room.

  “All right, the gang's all here,” Harper said, as I used my connection to the 889 to upload the file to the terminal near Harper’s chair.

  A metal panel drew back, revealing a smooth glass plate; Harper pressed his hand to it, and a series of numbers populated on the screen.

  “G.A.N. authenticated. Voiceprint Identification Requested,” a computerized voice said, accompanied by words on the screen.

  “Harper, Jon, Admiral- UEA Chief of Operations, 7749-632-4141,” Jon answered.

  "Blue Code-771 Declassification request. Secure terminal and confirm."

  “Roger, secure terminal and confirm. Authentication Victor Whiskey 889 Sigma.”

  "File Unlocked."

  "Accessing File."

  Impatiently, I copied the file to my internal archive and began outputting the highlights to the main monitor on the ship.

  Jill dropped her clipboard as Harper whistled.

  The Mendians had been underestimating the humans since the beginning and this was the biggest proof.

  While Project Umbra hid a treasure trove of horrors, Project Daedalus was something more benign. It started with Charlie Stevens' mission to capture the secret of Leap technology, and failing that, whatever information he could find on Mendian weapon systems, with prototype technology furnished by Erebus Industries.

  A pattern was emerging. They consistently seemed to have access to greater levels of Mendian hardware than they should. It was far too suspicious, and demanded more investigation.

  I sat that aside for later, because a larger revelation loomed.

  They had been successful. For the past three years, the humans had been secretly, quietly, building a prototype Gate network consisting of fifteen nodes. It was slow, very hard on ships, and incredibly power intensive. Each Gate was powered by no less than twenty Higgs field matter annihilation engines, and the fastest Jump they could manage thus far took two hours, but it worked.

  This was the missing piece. This was why the fleet was mobilizing, why they were rushing production of the Dominion Class. The Treaty of Gates could close; the humans had what they wanted. Access to the galaxy.

  Darnack wanted to leave them in the dark, but he was going to be sorely disappointed.

  “Holy Shit,” I added to the choir of astonishment.

  “That explains the colonial militia garbage,” Harper said, quickly reading over the file briefs, and sub headers, as well as sections I was pulling out and highlighting, and outputting to monitor six. “Generation Two’s and below can’t handle the stress of the Gate jump. So the Dominion Class protects the borders and we protect Earthside. Cute.”

  “None of the systems are populated though. Aside from the four planned morphic colonies. The Mendians mainly gave humans access to a lot of empty space,” Jill offered, rationalizing.

  “That’s true, but it’s still a substantial power grab. It’s the humans essentially setting their borders, and look at these data points.” I quickly brought them up on the screen for her to see them. “They are focusing on four categories for Gate deployment. Strategic importance, resources, colonial capacity, proximity to other systems. They are prioritizing areas within five years of max sub-light. It's set up to expand,” I said, quickly working through it.

  The harshness of Umbra stood out in stark contrast to the brightness of Daedalus. With the help of its dark descendent, the mission failure of 2081 had blossomed into the birth of the Intergalactic Human Era.

  It was soul crushing.

  “They’ve practically won already,” I announced, disgusted.

  “Key, it's not over yet. We could try Darnack again? Maybe this is enough to get them to listen? Jill said, trying to find a way out of this.

  “Darnack won’t listen to me. They don’t trust me, and it shows. No file is going to convince them otherwise, and even if they did, what are you talking about? War? Cause that’s what it would take! The first three columns are either presently or soon being indoctrinated with the protocol with no way to stop it.” My chest was heaving, the building anger causing my vision to pixelate.

  “Key, they could do something,” Harper echoed, Jill.

  I scoffed.

  “The Mendians are pulling back, as well as the council, and the humans have enough room to keep them busy for hundreds of years. Not only that, but thanks to my predecessors infiltration, they’ve enough Mendian data supplied to them through Umbra that they might not be limited to those territories for long. They’ve got everything they want, and we’ve got a twenty year old fleet; our only allies now view us with suspicion, and no way of using either to get the remaining free morphics to safety. Tell me how we aren’t fucked?” I ranted, frustrated.

  An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. There was no rational answer.

  “Like you said earlier. We do what we can. We can’t help the first three columns right now, we can’t stop the degrading of relations, but we keep pushing in what directions we can and keep playing the cards we’re dealt. They don’t win until we surrender,” Harper said, his words bringing encouragement.

  “You’re right, and there are innocents that will be harmed if we stop,” I said, conceding to his point.

  They both simply nodded, as Harper rose.

  “Key, this was excellent work. A great find. At least some of this makes sense now,” Harper praised.

  “You’re welcome, I understand that you have a schedule to keep. I’ll begin working on next steps from my angle, please keep me informed of yours.” The only logical move was hope. Despair meant accepting death. I had to keep moving forward.

  “Roger that,” he replied and strolled out.

  “Thanks again, Jon, you’ve been a good friend,” I called out, he simply gave a small wave with his raised right hand as he descended down the deck.

  It felt good to have allies I could rely on.

  Chapter 34

  Two weeks came and went in a flash of daily tasks and treadmill-like movements. We were all waiting for the
storm to hit; it was like we could smell it on the winds, but the weather remained obstinately calm, and eerie.

  The calm before the storm was stretching out like an open grave before us. There was a sense of ready dread that something was coming.

  Yet for now, silence.

  Harper was bringing the Excalibur online today, backed up by a fleet of Gen-1s and 2s. Starting tomorrow, they would pull away from Boneyard Apollo, rendezvous with the rest of the fleet and take up position at the fourth column.

  I was doing what I could with the time. I had downloaded a few AI code makers, which were expensive and a little slow, but I could configure them to a task, and they would do it. For the last two weeks, I had been running them in shifts aboard the 889, tasked with identifying holes and vulnerabilities in elements of my code base. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. In fact, I was approaching deployment of my second bug fix patch.

  Onboard processing efficiency was already up .02 %, a resounding success, which had given me an idea.

  Nothing was really stopping me from integrating some of their error correction and analysis subroutines into my own. I could technically expand the capabilities of my software, but should I? The question had been haunting me. On one hand, being able to devote idle processing power to patching my own code on the fly would be nice, but would I still be myself after the incorporation? Beyond that, what if something went wrong, and it went rogue. Could I accidentally kill myself?

  Such questions left me content to let it run, sandboxed, on the 889’s computer systems for now, happy to occasionally monitor the activities of my lesser cousins.

  Feed #4 twitched in my awareness. The now, duly elected, Chancellor Erebus Apep had promised an announcement of historical implications during the christening of the new Generation V Flagship, Vengeance.

  “Jill,” I called out from the cockpit, and she emerged from the crew quarters.

  “Apep is about to make a big announcement,” I said, and she simply nodded as I put it up on the ship's central screen.

  A chime clicked in over the ship's com. It was suddenly incredibly busy.

  “This is Key, go ahead,” I said, answering the summons.

  “Ki-Wan-Jo of com station apologizes for any dim dim interruption, but Darnack of the Mendians is requesting priority communication with Key. Yes yes!” The Corvaldian chirped and warbled in the same fashion Etrana did.

  “Yes, hold a moment,” I replied, and turned my attention back to the broadcast. Erebus first, abandoning space snake later.

  “Thanks Joan. This is Alice Bolter, live aboard the new Dominion Class flagship, The Vengeance. This state of the art vessel is currently completing construction and joining her five current sisters at the end of the month, forming the backbone for the new first fleet. Chancellor Apep, do you have anything to say on this historic occasion?

  “Alice, thank you, yes I do.” Erebus smiled an easy, reptilian smile before he continued. “Many have questioned the need for such a vessel, with the withdrawal of the Mendians from the Treaty of Gates, but as my party, Earth First, has asserted time and again, the Mendians were not helping us move forward, they were holding us back,” he said, building into a sweeping monologue.

  As if timed in advance, the walls at the front of the bridge seemed to dissolve, as integrated floor to ceiling high resolution screens powered on, revealing the exterior of the ship as if windows had been instantly installed there. What lay before them, was the first human Gate.

  “These stars, are our inheritance. They are our home, and no Mendian or Galactic Council will be able to keep us from them. Captain, is the Gate fully charged?” Chancellor Erebus asked. The reporter watched in stunned silence, as the cameras rolled.

  “Yes Sir,” came the efficient reply.

  “Then proceed,” he ordered. Space twisted and warped violently and terribly around The Vengeance as the reality surrounding it seemed to ripple inward, collapsing down to a single white point before the process violently reversed, once again revealing normal space, among different stars.

  “Position check,” the captain called out. Two more Dominion Class ships were visible in the foreground of the screen behind Erebus. The Challenger and The Intrepid.

  “Successful jump to Gate Gemini,” came the reply from astrogation.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the creation of a small, but functional Gate network, an effort spearheaded these last ten years by UEA Central Command, and Erebus Industries.” The press exploded into questions. As flashes from cameras emulated a strobe effect, I switched it off and went back to monitoring it passively.

  “Well that cat is out of that bag,” I said. Jill shot me a look.

  “Nice phrase there,” she quipped.

  “Glad you enjoyed it.” I answered.

  The com chirped again.

  “Ki-Wan-Jo of com station apologizes again for most dim intrusion, but the Mendia again requests an audience,” he chortled.

  “Patch it through to my shuttle if you would please, Ki-Wan-Jo, and thanks,” I answered.

  I was still connected to the 889, and the second the request hit its circuits, I routed it again through the central screen.

  “Honored Mendia, you show us great respect with your request for contact,” I said, following official protocols.

  He grumbled. That obviously hurt. Fair was fair.

  “You honor me, Shifted One of Earth, may you see many stars,” he answered, completing the greeting.

  “How can I help you?” I queried. Trying not to be bitter. If he was calling me, it had to be important.

  “The Matron of Detraxia has been taken. If you cannot help us, it will be war,” he responded distantly, as if he was having a difficult time processing this.

  “Taken?” I pushed, not fully certain what he meant.

  “By the humans, with a special team, something we’ve never seen before. They disabled the ship with some kind of weaponized Link pulse,” he answered back.

  Darnack was masking his rage quite well, but the trembling in his right claw, and the fact he was in his battle armor, told a completely different tale.

  “Interesting. If only you had some warning,” I shot back. It was cheap, but a lesson needed to be taught here.

  “These events occurred six hours ago, the council of Elders is in chaos, and screaming for war, but our first priority is the safe return of the Matron of Detraxia and her aides. We have no contact with the Earth government save for the Corvaldians. We need someone to represent us that understands humans better,” he said. I got the hint.

  “You mean me,” I replied.

  “You discern correctly, Key. We find ourselves in a unique position,” he admitted.

  “Of course I will help,” I offered without further preamble. This was no time to be petty. Erebus had just lit the fuse on a war.

  “Tell me what you know,” I said, and focused all of my attention.

  “According to the crew, House Dextraxia was near Foresta Two when it picked up a distress call from the morphic colony nearby; when they moved to investigate, they were interdicted by two UEA Warships, The Intrepid and The Challenger, and told the situation was in hand and to leave the space,” he said. He then paused, turning to a table and picking up a data pad, tapping it with a claw.

  It was curious, I had never seen a Mendian use a data pad before.

  “The crew woke up some time later; the Matron and her aides were gone and the computers were wiped. Their last memories, were the orders from the UEA warships,” Darnack reported.

  “Jill, would you get Harper on a secure channel and bring him up to speed?” I asked, and Jill nodded, popping down into the com chair.

  “Ki-Wan-Jo, sweetie, this is Jill Saito. Would you be a dear and get me a secure line to Harper?” she called out, and I turned my attention back to Darnack.

  “I hate to do this to you, but your day is about to get worse.” I transmitted the recording I had of the press conference to the Let
hine. “The humans have a Gate network, I’m sorry.”

  “I am humbled by this news, and will bring it to the council. You have my apologies Shifted One,” he offered.

  “I don’t understand,” I answered, perplexed by his statement.

  “We acted in fear because of what you couldn’t control. You are what you are; still, you reached out to help us, to warn us. We reacted in fear. I had hoped, all those years ago, donning the form of the kraznagor that we had finally found our way out of the cycle; yet here we are again. I am sorry Shifted One, that we…. that -I- have still not learned. My heart is grieved by the weight of my wrong, and I bow in deep humility,” he said, his words sounding confessional, not formal. Grief poured around each syllable as the seismic events tore down the facades that surrounded him and kept him in a blissful arrogance.

  “We journey together, of different houses, but of one heart, of one purpose. It is my honor to call you friend. It is my privilege to stand beside you, in war and in peace. Hail Darnack. Hail true friend to the House of Dawkins,” I replied. It was the traditional proclamation of friendship and alliance, said and intended with full reverence.

  “You truly move me, Shifted One, and I say to you, on the blood of my ancestors, that we journey together, of different houses, but of one heart, of one purpose. It is my honor to call you friend. It is my privilege to stand beside you, in war and in peace. Hail true friend to all Mendians,” he repeated back and bowed.

  “What do you need me to do?” I asked.

  “We will send official notice that you are our elected delegate and that we request the Zulfiqar as a sanctioned meeting space since it is neutral to both parties. Etrana is awaiting you on the bridge.”

  “And what terms would you like me to deliver?” I asked.

  “Return the Matron of Detraxia and her aides immediately, or face the full onslaught of the Mendian armada,” he reported flatly.

  “Are you certain you don’t want to try for negotiations?” I offered, knowing it was a hopeless quest.

  “The time for diplomacy is over. If they wish to avoid war, they will return our people,” he replied simply.