Rise of the Forgotten

by Rebecca Mickley

  “There are some on the council who are uncomfortable with your presence among us, but your deeds and the deeds of your House speak louder. We will meet you at the coordinates just as you say, there is much we should discuss.”

  The metaphorical thunder crackled and the lightning flashed upon the horizon. Heavy storm clouds hung, inky and black over the situation, but still no rain came.

  A hot wind blew dusty and ominous. Yet still, the peace strained, unwilling to go easy.

  It was time to leave. I began running the preflight checks. Jill saw the panels activating and took the hint, helping prepare the 889 for takeoff, including the clearance from the bridge.

  Alpha-889 was much faster than the Zulfiqar, and could accelerate quicker, having more modern and efficient engines. We were already well outside of orbital control, and UEA patrols were scant out here. It should be a safe run to the coordinates listed. After all, we were assigned to the Corvaldian delegation, and were scouting ahead, nothing to see here.

  A Mendian house ship appeared briefly, then we vanished from Sol, appearing back at the Nest.

  Nothing to see here.

  The next day moved by in a blur, and before long, I was back aboard the Lethine, once again.

  It was like the ship had a special gravity, and I was trapped in its well. I always seemed to end up here.

  I reached out for the Link, and found nothing there to connect to. What was going on?

  “An impressive ship, Shifted One, there is much new in your life,” Darnack said, outside the Link, hissing.

  “I can’t access the Link... What’s going on?” I asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

  “Since the incident aboard Detraxia, we are restricting the use of the Link to essentials,” he explained. “These are dangerous times, as you so aptly warned.”

  “How are you managing?” I asked. No living Mendian had a memory of a time without the Link. It was a fundamental to their daily lives as running water was to humans.

  We passed two Mendian Security guards in full armor with baton weapons; Darnack grumbled ominously. “Poorly,” was the only answer he provided.

  “Between the restriction of the Link, and the revelations from Detraxia, it is a dark time for our people. The council is divided as to what to do; it is one of the reasons you were brought here, to speak to them, to try and make some sense of this… chaos.” There was no precedent for the behavior I was seeing in him. A darkness clung to him like a shade.

  I could not recognize the Lethine in my current location. It felt empty, eerie and dead. Tension clung to the walls of the place like a fetid humidity, with no relief. Darnack was obviously sweltering in emotional agony.

  “It has not been this bad since the death of our star. The matron’s admission has torn at age old distrust. You know House Detraxia was dishonored for creating the weapon that destroyed our system?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I replied. “It’s a central narrative in your history.”

  “You honor us,” he replied, then continued. “Still, many wonder if the matron has betrayed us, if so, should we fear House Detraxia?” I could see the runaway logic.

  “You are considering abandoning her to Earth,” I stated more than asked, shocked.

  “If she is a traitor, she has chosen Earth, what would we be abandoning her to, her choices?” Darnack asked.

  “It’s the Ascension Protocol, it has to be. If I can just make the council understand.” I said. The file I showed Harper that made him ill came to mind. That should demonstrate the point.

  “It may be, yet still, the debate before the council has shifted and war is being rethought. There is no reason to die for a traitor, after all.” His words chilled me, ancient principles of his culture showing through.

  I had been so lost in thought, I had not realized the distance covered; I was standing before the familiar edifice of the Mendian Council Chambers aboard the Lethine.

  Opening the doors did not reveal an orderly delegation, but a cacophony of noise. Mendians, in their native language, loudly argued back and forth to one another. Tempers flared, and some sat bewildered.

  They barely knew how to communicate without the Link, yet even amidst the chaos, perhaps especially so, when Darnack entered the room, they all fell silent. Perhaps instinctively, perhaps out of ancient memory and reverence for the order he once brought the last time things fell to chaos, they again looked to him.

  Darnack, embattled as he was, still represented their hope.

  “Honored council.” He addressed them in Mendian, while I engaged my translation protocols to understand.

  Dawkins had studied Mendian for years, but had never become fluent; Thoth was built to run on their networks. Their language, therefore, proved little challenge to me.

  “This one, who has honored us with her service, now brings evidence that the matron may be compelled against her will. We will now present this evidence,” he said and the room broke out into a series of murmurs, grumbles and whispers.

  ‘Now’ turned out to be a relative term. With no Link protocol to easily interface with the Mendian systems, I ended up having to pull a screen from Alpha 889 to output. They may be grateful, but they were in no hurry to let me anywhere near their networks and hardware.

  I suppose, given the circumstances, that was understandable.

  Half an hour ticked by, but we had the dismantled screen up and running and I was connected to it by cable, as the monitor was built to hard connect to the ship; being UEA’s lowest bidder-inspired, it did not have wireless capability on its own.

  Curiously, the process seemed to disturb some of the Mendians present. I had Darnack insert the cable into the back of my neck, since I like to move my paws when I talk, and did not want my wrist ports to get in the way. Still, their reaction puzzled me; this was simply a visible reflection of what the Link did wirelessly.

  There would be plenty of time to think on that later, enough had already been wasted. Without preamble, I let the file play, using my translation protocols to provide Mendian subtitles. Then I played back my conversation with Erebus.

  Murmurs of shock and outrage rippled through the Mendian Council like waves. Many were moved to fits of emotions defying the placid calm that I was accustomed to. It was bedlam, but flowing in a particular direction.

  The media part of the presentation finished and I brought my awareness back towards my onboard systems.

  “As you can see,” I said, speaking Mendian. “The Ascension Protocol uses the Link to induce patterns of thought and behavior. It cannot be done wirelessly; you need physical access to the subject to push the update through their nanitic systems, but that is the only primary barrier. It is highly likely the matron had no choice in what she was saying.”

  “What do you propose?” a Mendian asked from the crowd.

  “A rescue would be difficult, if not impossible. The weaponized Link protocol is a serious threat, and any resources you commit run the risk of being co-opted by the humans.” Murmurs of discontent erupted into decrying shrieks from House Detraxia and her allies..

  “We cannot leave one abandoned to suffer this fate. We demand action from the council. At least have the honor to grant her an honorable death, and let our enemies see our resolve! We can still disable their ships!” They demanded blood for the insult and violation they suffered.

  Thinking back to my own experiences, I couldn’t blame them.

  “Human technology has advanced rapidly in the years since first contact. Not only have they mastered the Gates, but they’ve also learned to compensate for the emitted field that disables their electronics. Next to the acquisition of the Leap, it’s been a high priority for the human military to ensure that they can actually stand and fight,” I replied.

  “It will do them no good. Those that act with dishonor wither before the rage of the honorable!” the representative for Detraxia replied.

  “Ancient proverbs, and rhetoric cannot shield you from the reality th
at the humans have been preparing for this exact scenario since the signing of the Treaty of Gates,” I countered.

  The council descended back into chaos, with no clear direction of what to do. It was clear that while Erebus had not scored the master stroke he hoped to net with Darnack, the matron’s kidnapping was disrupting their society and tearing them apart.

  “Darnack, disconnect me,” I asked, and sighing, he pulled the cord from its port. The screen sensing the signal was broken, shut off.

  “I’ll be aboard the Alpha-889. Let me know if they come to a decision.” The Mendia nodded, and bowed.

  “Let me know of any needs you may have, Shifted One. I will attend to my brothers and sisters,” he responded, and we parted.

  I felt as if my world was trying to tear itself apart, and I suppose in some ways, it was.

  Chapter 37

  Three weeks had gone by, and the Mendian Council was still in session. The time stretched out like a tortured agony. Ever on the edge of war, many times they had put it to a vote but they had yet to come to a consensus, and so the debate raged on while Earth waited, and prepared.

  Erebus had not released my "confession". Jon was keeping position around the fourth column, and Jill was by my side. The bastard was probably enjoying the fact that he had a sword dangling over my head, but for now, I was safe. Only Jon was exposed.

  That had to be why he hadn’t acted. Jon's career was over, even aboard his ship. While I, the true target, was safe with the Mendians. If he acted now, there would be no reason for me to cooperate, and so we waited, while he roasted the Mendian Council over the spit of what to do about the matron.

  Erebus Apep, the shadow in the darkness. The hidden demon. I had never seen him coming, and now we were all paying for that oversight. We had been so blind, worried about Rusch and Earth First, and all the while he was quietly ascending to power on the blood of my previous iteration.

  I was going over the latest bug-fix reports from my maker bots when I got an idea. I was hunting down zero day exploits in my protocols, many of which I shared with the 889 and other Erebus Industries systems.

  The realization was that if they would work against me, they would work against their systems equally well if they weren't patched. It was a long shot. I would have to set up the attacks in waves and quickly figure out which ones did and didn’t work and how they worked, but it could give me an advantage. If I elected to fight, being able to potentially disable a Dominion V Cruiser might come in handy.

  That decision was a thorny one. On its face, it was an easy choice; Erebus Apep was my enemy and it had to be settled, but with time comes clarity, and perspective.

  The kind of fight I was talking about could mean the deaths of millions. There was no such thing as small numbers in this game. After all, this was intragalactic war. Two massive powers coming to loggerheads. At the end of the day, was my feud with Erebus, however justified, worth the life of one innocent? Try as I might, I couldn’t resolve it.

  "Nothing is ever easy." I intoned the words like a mantra, and considered painting it on the side of the ship, like a motto. It seemed to keep coming up. In many ways, I preferred the world of computing protocols and software. That made sense. One thing invariably led to another, but out here, in the real world, things got messy, people got hurt…

  They died.

  Dying, to cease being. I existed because of the drive of my predecessors to continue; was I truly willing to inflict an end on someone else?

  I wondered where my internal philosophizing was on my first day breaking into a Mendian locker to take a wrist weapon.

  Still, it had been there three weeks after, when I didn’t set the ships to blow in Minot, and I shouldn’t forget about the fourth column, either. They were a tightly packed group of victims quietly suffering while the greater powers decided what to do. Just as it had been with the career of my predecessor, the morphics hung in the balance, like chips in a poker game.

  I followed the well-worn paths in my mind, seeking their end, knowing full well they looped, but I knew ultimately that my loyalties didn’t lie with Earth, but those morphics caught in the middle aboard the fourth column. Earth had made its choices, and would face whatever consequences were coming. Innocents or not, there is simply a momentum to some events, and they cannot be stopped.

  Rocks sometimes fall from the sky; some things are just destined to collide. One thing was for certain, a Mendian meteor was in motion, and its impact would soon be felt globally, no matter what decisions were made.

  Jill stayed glued to the news while I philosophized and lapsed quietly. The matron was making the rounds, spinning monstrous tales about the Mendians, weaved with certain, well-chosen truths. Her ease at adapting to human culture, had all the fingerprints of the Ascension Protocol, and I could not watch the broadcasts. They seemed too painful, and too familiar.

  Some data was simply not worth the pain. Instead, I contented myself with daily summary updates from Jill.

  The Mendians, however, were busy. While the council debated, they began to activate ancient weapons of war. Mendian House Ships contained hangars filled with destroyers, and combat vehicles, all still bearing the same names and colorings as when they served in the Nasarian Empire; they were designed to be operated manually, and required no Link.

  Slowly, the ancient war machine awakened, as they began deploying their destroyers, through their Gate networks to strategic points in their territory, focusing heavily on the Nest, while setting up a physical barrier between their home and the weaponized Link pulse of the humans.

  The ramp of the 889 was down. I saw no reason to keep it raised, and was completely comfortable aboard my own ship, so I had refused quarters. It seemed best to keep a low profile.

  “Shifted One. Permission to come aboard?” Darnack asked, emulating human customs. He was in a good mood, too good. It was fake on its edges.

  “Of course, you honor me,” I replied, emulating Mendian traditions. Turnabout is fair play, after all.

  “Ever formal, Shifted One. Like your predecessor,” he chuckled. “Another day of fierce battles at the Mendian Council is done.”

  “Still no decision?” Jill asked, the signal from the Gate relay had terminated unexpectedly twenty minutes prior and had not returned.

  It clicked, Jill was obviously wrong. The council had definitely made some decision.

  “All human signals and access to the Gate Network have been officially terminated,” Darnack announced. The update was pushed to the network about half an hour ago and is populating throughout.”

  Bingo.

  “What of the matron?” I pushed. You could cut the tension in the cabin with a knife.

  “She is to be given an honorable death, and a message is to be sent to the humans; any House that wishes to participate may commit resources. It has been declared a Nizkranto.

  “Nizkranto…”

  Accessing...

  “A mission to restore honor and take vengeance for a great wrong,” I announced, translating for Jill.

  “You discern correctly. A price must be paid for what was done. You have been invited to join the hunt. We leave in seven hours, prepare yourself if you are to go.” The air chilled with his words; the decision, though we had been waiting for weeks, by perception, came quickly.

  War...

  It had finally come to this. There was no longer time for debate. No longer time for equivocating. I had to pick a side, or sit on the sidelines and wait for the inevitable results.

  “I will stand by you friend. We go together,” I answered. “Can you arrange quarters for Jill?”

  “Boss, there is no way I’m leaving you alone for this business,” she challenged.

  “There is absolutely a way. You are a non-combatant; your place is safely behind the lines and away from all this. Besides, if the worst happens, and neither Jon, nor I return, it’s up to you to complete the mission. Build the colony on Centioc One, keep going, don't let this stop you.” It was a
n order, but said gently. The tears had returned to her cheeks, outlining wet, river-like channels in her fur.

  She nodded and then embraced me in a hug. “You come back to me Boss, you hear.”

  “That is certainly my plan,” I answered, and she quickly went to the crew quarters to pack, tears dripping down onto her blouse.

  “How many ships?” I asked Darnack, curious as to the scope of the effort.

  “Two hundred and fifty destroyers, with two house ships to jump them in,” the Mendia replied.

  “Why so few? The five fleets give the humans one hundred and fifty ships, you still outnumber them by almost two to one, but Earth has been preparing for an invasion for seventy years. Ever since the Far Horizon Project detonated in space, Earth has been preparing for this day. There are orbital satellites and defensive platforms; much of the moon is militarized, there’s also close range interceptors like my Alpha-889. The humans have the advantage, with those numbers,” I answered, running the projections.

  “The council, to grant consensus, made participation voluntary. These are the forces that have stood up to defend the honor of Detraxia,” he spat, showing disgust.

  Jill emerged, with her bag packed.

  “Please Boss, be safe,” she said. Her voice trembled, but she was doing everything she could to be strong.

  “Seven hours Shifted One, prepare yourself, I will see to your aide,” Darnack ordered, and bowed.

  "Jill, I know this seems dark, but the eve of war always is. What is the old saying? It's always darkest before the dawn?" I was not good at this. Emotions were mystifying things.

  She chuckled. "Snow would have groaned at that. She hated clichés, but thank ya Boss. I'll be waiting, and hoping for your safe return."

  As soon as they were clear, I raised the ramp, and radioed to the bridge of the Lethine to head out into space.