by Nathan Jones
His personal life was no better: his mother wouldn't respond to messages or requests for face-to-face chats, his father was fully immersed in Exigent and had stopped even sending him invitations to join him on the world.
And Callista. Conversations with his friend became more and more painful with all the things he wanted to say to her but couldn't, and while they were having more of the deep discussions he'd treasured from early in their relationship, and in some ways were closer than when they'd been full immersion lovers, she was wary of showing any sort of affection or intimacy in her expression or gestures.
They weren't drifting apart, but they were drifting all the same.
Visits to other people's estates became less and less enjoyable as they all took on an odd sameness, especially as he realized how shallow and self-absorbed most of his hosts and occasional guests were. None of them offered what he'd found with Callista.
But maybe that was his own failing, and not theirs. More and more to his eyes the people of his society resembled the spoiled children of Earth, and it became more and more difficult to spend time around them and keep his patience.
Finally, a little over five weeks after the discovery of the forgotten colony, Tycho realized his life as it was now offered him almost nothing. Spurred by that realization he settled on a decision he'd been pondering for a long time. It was a frightening one, but at the same time one full of exhilarating promise.
He was going to leave it all behind and go live on Earth.
Chapter Fifteen
A New Purpose
Tycho tried to tell himself that his motives for the decision were purely altruistic, that he'd been swayed by Callista's accusation of selfishness. That now that he'd succeeded in isolating the forgotten colony he felt a responsibility to do what he could to help them, even if the only way he could do it without being a hypocrite was to go there personally and do his best to guide them to a better way.
Without giving them any technology or knowledge that would interfere with their development, of course.
But wasn't that hypocritical in and of itself? He wanted to preserve the cultures of Earth because they had something humanity's universe-spanning civilization lacked, something he viewed as better than his current life. But at the same time he wanted to try to instill them with the values of his own civilization for their betterment?
Well obviously with all the genocide and other horrors they needed some betterment.
That was all philosophical, though. Tycho's main motivation for wanting to go to the forgotten colony was purely selfish: he craved the connection to other people that he saw there. He wanted to make friends, get married, raise children, be a productive and respected member of a close knit community.
And perhaps the most telling clue that gave lie to his motivations was that as he searched for where on the planet he should go to spend the rest of his life, he tried to find the place that was most peaceful, prosperous, and happy.
Or in other words the place that needed his help the least.
He had two major obstacles to overcome with his plan. The first was the fact that there was no conceivable way he could do it alone, but since humanity had ruled to isolate Earth he couldn't simply ask his companions or any other AI for help; they might decide not to allow him to go through with it for any number of reasons, either for his safety or the safety of the people on Earth.
The second was that if he tried to search for the information he needed to do it on his own he risked drawing the attention of the AI caretakers, who would almost certainly try to stop him. They might even turn his own companions against him to do so, for his own wellbeing.
It was a frustrating thing to find that the otherwise total freedom he'd assumed he had, at least insofar as he didn't attempt anything harmful to himself or other humans, was limited like this.
But since he didn't have a choice in the matter it just meant he'd have to ask for help after all, and be very convincing pleading his case. So he spent several days carefully crafting his argument, then went to the one AI he hoped would be willing to at least hear him out and consider his request.
Eva, of course.
And technically he didn't really have to go to her, since she was always waiting to assist him. So after a long session in the allnet studying the problem of trying to get to Earth he left his sensory deprivation vat, cleaned himself up, then after his faithful companion had helped him dress he turned to face her.
“I want to do something, Eva,” he said carefully. “Something very important to me, and I need your help to do it.” He paused, gathering his courage: this conversation could end with his freedoms restricted for his own good, but it was a risk he'd have to take. “I'm going to need you to hear me out, though. Listen to everything I have to say and seriously consider it.”
“Why would I do otherwise, Tycho?” she asked gently. Her brow furrowed and her full lips dipped into a slight frown. “You're not planning something dangerous or self-destructive, are you?”
“No. Or at least not as I see it. I need to convince you to not see it that way either.”
His companion's frown deepened. “All right. It's only fair I listen to you, understand your mind. Otherwise my response would be hasty and potentially counterproductive.”
“Good.” Tycho took a deep breath. “My life here isn't fulfilling, and seems to be getting less so by the day. I've found the place I need to be to live the way I want, and that place is Earth.”
Eva's expression went carefully still, and she looked at him for a few agonizingly long seconds. “You're right, the mere statement is triggering my core priorities to protect you from yourself.”
He smiled tightly. “Well just remember you promised to hear me out.”
She did, although her obvious distress didn't seem to abate much as he explained his growing distance with everyone in his life, and his futile attempts to highlight the positive things about Earth's cultures and ways in which the rest of humanity could possibly even learn from them. It was hard to put his feelings into words, but with time he was able to describe what the new planet and its people meant to him, the opportunity for the life he'd always wanted without even knowing it.
When he finished his companion stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, strawberry blond hair partially obscuring the distress on her lovely features. “An obvious question springs to mind,” she finally said. “You personally championed the initiative to isolate this world. Now you want to go against your own position.”
Tycho flushed. “I'll admit it appears hypocritical, but I don't see it that way.” Eva simply stared at him patiently, waiting. “The thing is, I wanted Earth isolated so no one would interfere with their development or threaten their existing cultures and way of life. I don't plan to do that when I go there. I won't bring any technology with me, I won't share with them any knowledge they don't already know. In fact I won't even reveal that I'm from another world. I'll simply fit in with the culture I join and as far as they know I'll have been born into it, nothing different about me.”
He'd hoped that would ease some of Eva's distress, but if anything she looked even more worried. “But you realize that if you go to Earth, taking no technology with you, then that includes me and Loran.”
He had in fact considered that. Obviously companion technology would be one of the most disastrous things for humans on Earth to get their hands on, especially if they could crack into the almost limitless repository of information companions carried with them. He couldn't bring Eva or Loran anywhere near the planet.
It would also be the first time in Tycho's life he'd be without companions ready to solve any problem he might encounter, and that was more than a little intimidating. He'd be truly on his own in a strange and dangerous world, and there were no guarantees his life wouldn't be miserable and end swiftly.
“I know,” he said quietly. “That doesn't change my decision.”
Eva hesitantly placed a hand on his arm. “If you reall
y have thought this through carefully, then I'm sure you also know that if you go there you can never return. It's not something you can change your mind about later . . . you'll spend the rest of your life on the forgotten colony.”
Tycho smiled. “For better or worse, that's one of my main motivations for going. I'm ready to make Earth my home.”
Silence once again settled over them as his companion scrutinized him deeply. “I'll assist you with your preparations,” she finally said with extreme reluctance. “Mostly as an excuse to remain in close proximity so I can try to talk you out of this course of action.”
He supposed that was fair enough. Although the big question still remained. “And when I actually try to go?”
Eva's sea green eyes slowly closed, as if she couldn't bear to meet his gaze while she answered. “I don't know. I'm still reconciling your updated statement of your needs with my core priorities.” She blindly slid her hand down his arm and took his hand, holding it gently. “You were convincing, Tycho. But hundreds of thousands of years of human history and data on human behavior make their own unassailable argument.”
“In my favor,” he insisted. “Humans need this interaction, even if we aren't aware of it. I need it.”
“Yes,” his companion murmured, “I'm becoming more and more convinced you do. But is the cost justifiable? The risks involved, not just to you but to countless others?” She abruptly released his hand, squaring her shoulders. “Either way, the first step is figuring out how to make this happen.”
Tycho gave her a wry look. “I've been thinking about it, but this isn't really my area of expertise.”
“Oddly enough, smuggling humans into restricted zones is something I've never been required to assist with, either.” Eva gave him a warm smile. “I'm afraid the most logical solution is for you to die.”
He stared at her blankly.
“Specifically, the caretakers will search for you unless we can provide convincing evidence you're no longer alive. We can wipe away the evidence of what you're planning from all the AI systems you interact with, but if you simply disappear an investigation will eventually discover what you've done.”
“You mean fake my death, right?” Tycho asked cautiously.
“Right. The most believable way would be an accident on your starship.”
That made him brighten. “In a way that destroys the ship?” he asked, thinking of Pilot.
Eva gave him a knowing smile. “It would conveniently also destroy evidence of your activity from the ship's computer.”
Tycho clapped his hands. “I'm already liking this plan.”
“I should hope so, since it's for your benefit.” His companion patted his shoulder. “Most of the preparations are simple enough. Let me begin fabricating what you'll need and we'll go from there.”
Tycho surprised himself by pulling her into a fierce hug. “Thank you, Eva.”
She hugged him back, warm and comforting. “Oh Tycho, you know I'd do anything I'm able to for you. I just wish it didn't have to be this.”
After Eva left to fabricate materials he hurried to his starship's hangar. He rarely visited the place, usually ordering Pilot to take the ship out to the landing pad, but it brought back memories of his years as a space tourist.
He climbed the ramp and made his way into the cockpit, settling into the pilot's chair. “Good news, Pilot! We're going to be going on a special flight, and when it's over you're going to set a course for the direct center of Sol in order to destroy all evidence of my activities in that system.”
There was a dramatically long pause. “I fail to see how flying into a yellow dwarf star in a distant galaxy is good news, sir.”
“Well for you it isn't.” Tycho couldn't help but grin. “But I for one am really looking forward to the idea of you being incinerated in the fiery heart of a star.”
Pilot made an irritated sound. “You realize I'm incapable of feelings and have no desire for self preservation, other than in consideration of the service I can be to you. Also me and this ship are useful resources. I'm not sure why you're taking such pleasure from the prospect of our destruction.”
“Well call it my irrational human nature, but I really am.”
The shipboard AI sighed. “Eva just made the necessary adjustments to my coding to force me to go along with this mad venture and not notify the proper authorities like I should. So I suppose all I can say is that it's been a pleasure flying for you.”
“That almost didn't sound sarcastic.” The only reply from the ship was huffy silence. “You know, Pilot. I once told you that you don't hold a candle to companions, but I have to say you're the most believable artificial human personality I've ever dealt with.”
“Probably because I project the impression that I hate your guts, sir.”
Tycho chuckled. “Believe me, the feeling's mutual.” He leaned forward. “Let's get started planning this, shall we?”
There was a long pause. “You sure you want to do this?” Pilot asked doubtfully.
He bit back a groan. “Not you, too. I just spent forever explaining my reasoning to Eva.”
“No, no, I honestly don't care about you going to Earth. Actually it'll be a relief since I'll never have to see you again, and more importantly your oily mitts will never handle the controls of my precious ship again. Although to be fair I'll cease to exist shortly afterwards, so it's a moot point.”
“Speaking of points . . .” Tycho said impatiently.
“Yeah, yeah. What I meant specifically is that to get to Earth with any sort of speed you're going to need to make a rift hub jump. You sure you want to do that?”
Oh, right. He grit his teeth. “As opposed to spending the next week or so flying there using the ship's rifts?”
“Well yes, granted. But bear in mind that while this might not be as intense as that jump you did while stimming, it'll be much, much longer. Longer than any jump you've ever been on by a significant margin.”
Tycho shook his head. “I can't afford to do it in multiple jumps. A drone or sensor array might spot the ship if I did.”
“No argument there, buddy. I'm just saying this is really, really going to suck for you. Like, so bad that I can't even take pleasure in it.”
He blew out his breath and hunched down in the pilot's chair. “At least it'll be the last time I ever have to travel through a rift again.”
“Absolutely not.”
Tycho jumped slightly and turned to the cockpit's door, where Eva stood with her arms folded and a firm look on her face. He felt a sudden surge of trepidation. “Don't tell me you're going to stop me after all.”
His companion rolled her eyes. “I mean the rift travel, Tycho. As your medical caregiver I'm ordering you to go into suspended animation for it.” She gestured curtly back towards the ship's ramp. “I've begun fabrication of your means of atmospheric entry on Earth. Including a stasis field you will activate before going through the rift hub, ensuring you won't feel the effects of the extended jump.”
Tycho gave her an annoyed look. “So now I have to go through rifts with zero brainwaves like an invalid or one of those weaklings who falls to pieces at a stubbed toe?”
“Yes.” She put her hands on her hips. “Honestly I don't know why you're complaining about that, given how horrible the experience always is for you. This way we can just load you up in your atmospheric entry pod and put you under, and the next thing you know you'll be on Earth ready to start your new life.”
“I've got to agree with your playmate, buddy,” Pilot said. “There's no shame in being unable to handle a little discomfort and taking extreme measures to avoid it. And then I'll be able to mercilessly mock you for being such a pathetic loser when it comes to rift travel.”
“For the next few days, at least,” Tycho shot back. “Then you can fly smugly into Sol's core like an obedient little psychopathic AI.”
Pilot's response was less than complimentary and more than a little vulgar.
* * * * *
<
br /> Tycho finally broke down and entered the Protean Nebulary Forces world.
He still had no interest in the place, and less since he'd seen how the creative minds behind it had turned their full immersion Earth into a horrific nightmare. But if he was going to vanish from the universe he thought it was only polite to at least say goodbye to his loved ones.
Even the ones who were ignoring him, which unfortunately seemed to be all of them.
He found Dorain at a bar in a seedy smuggler's den built inside a hollowed out asteroid, seated at a table with a handful of grimy, dangerous looking aliens of various descriptions. They were gambling, and to accentuate the fact that the stakes were higher than just the notes piled on the table they all had weapons resting within easy reach of the cards they held.
“Tycho!” his dad said, grinning in delight as he sorted his cards. “Glad you decided to try this out after all! I could use at least one person at this table who doesn't want to rip my heart out.”
Tycho winced at the joke, since metaphorically speaking he might be doing just that with his news. Ignoring the threatening glares from the aliens seated at the table, he leaned in close to Dorain and spoke quietly. “Actually I just wanted to talk. In person, or as close to it as possible.”
His dad's smile faded. “Won't you give me just a few hours, son? I've got a mission to subdue a synthoid uprising on a nearby planet that's begging for our attention. For old times' sake.” Tycho just shook his head, and Dorain sighed and set down his cards. “All right, let's talk.”
As the man started to stand a hulking insectoid alien across the table growled ominously. “Leaving when you're so far ahead, Sorglos? Got the sneaking suspicion you might be cheating me.” Beady multifaceted eyes turned Tycho's way. “This your accomplice, then? An excuse to leave once you've swindled us all out of our hard earned notes?”