Ascension

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  I can save her this time.

  No, you can’t.

  Save who? Why can’t I?

  Re’lien shared her mind with three voices. Maybe more. A choir of dissenting consciousnesses. Egging her on. Discouraging her. Driving her to a goal.

  Who am I trying to save?

  No point. She is already dead.

  Re’lien arrived at the foot of the structure and began to scale the spiral staircase to its peak. She was barefoot. Like back on Xerl. Her flesh made no sound on the hard-metal structure.

  Stop. Don’t make me see it again. Please. I can’t.

  Re’lien ignored the voice. Another voice responded:

  We must try.

  The vortex of blue smoke and energy was magnificent, stretching towards the sky like an apocalyptic tornado. But it was flickering. Fading. Re’lien saw an edal wearing a black coat collapse. A spire of energy that had been erupting from their hands winked out of existence. The vortex shrunk.

  Before her, an edal man ran to the centre of the vortex.

  Re’lien’s eyes widened.

  Kei.

  He was younger. More energetic. More desperate. His movements didn’t have that calm fluidity that Re’lien remembered. They were jagged. Sudden. Unsure.

  The vortex disappeared.

  Kei fell onto his knees, clutching a cloaked figure. He screamed. An animalistic roar. So harsh was its pitch, its pain – that it bore no hearable sound. It was the sound of the world ending.

  Re’lien approached the man she had once thought she had loved. Cradled in his arms was Sola, blue skin paled to a snow-white.

  Blackness.

  A void before her. A part of her saw something else. The voices had stopped. They saw something else. Something that struck them with such awe, that they were rendered dumb. Re’lien saw the void. And the void spoke, with a voice that boomed with the power of eternity:

  ‘Who are you?’

  Re’lien did not answer.

  ‘I saw one of you, young one. Before. But you are with him now. Or are you? Mysterious. He is dead. Not now, but in the years to come. For you, he is probably already dead. But who are you that sees me in the past?’

  Re’lien remained silent. The void sighed.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, young one. The end is all the same. Watch for your kind, Devil Child. Watch for the Star Horde. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter. One way or the other, all shall meet the same fate. They will meet their promised end.’

  

  Re’lien gasped for air.

  A white light stung her eyes. A floating syn with tiny surgical arms dodged as she flailed towards it.

  ‘Re’lien! Re’lien! Calm. You’re safe now. Nobody can hurt you anymore.’

  Re’lien stopped. Sola came into view, a forced but calming smile on her lips. Relief, anger, sadness. A tortured, happy look. Distraught from witnessing her sister broken, but relief that she was alive at all.

  ‘You were dead,’ Re’lien tried to say. It came out as a garbled mumble.

  ‘The skites broke your teeth and jaw. Don’t worry. I got it all fixed up. Best bio-tech and syn-clinic creds can buy. It’ll be numb for a while but then you’ll be good as new.’

  The last part was very forced.

  Eri appeared behind Sola.

  ‘We’ll find who did this, Re…Re’lien. The skites will hang.’

  ‘Hanging or not,’ a synthetic voice spoke, ‘Ms Re’lien is lucky to be alive. Please don’t agitate her.’

  ‘Edal are tough, bot,’ Eri said.

  ‘Broken legs. Broken arms. Three cracked ribs. A smashed jaw. Broken collarbone. Internal bleeding. Severe external and internal bruising. Just to name a few of the damages. Excuse me, Lieutenant-Colonel Kara’zar, but I have treated edal before. Ms Re’lien should be dead.’

  ‘Please, BTS-15. Don’t agitate my sister.’

  ‘Apologies, Professor Sola. I will leave you three.’

  Re’lien felt an intense claustrophobia. She had so much to say, but couldn’t. She touched her face. Swelling. A bio-pad. The nanite plaster would be stitching up the wound, clotting blood, mending and restoring bone. Another wonder of human medicine. She wouldn’t even have scars to show for it. She ran her tongue over her teeth. They felt odd. Alien. They weren’t her real teeth.

  No pain. But not the dullness of being drugged. It was as if she was healthy. As if nothing had happened.

  But something had happened. On Mars. Her home.

  ‘Don’t worry, Re’lien,’ Sola said, stroking Re’lien’s hair while sitting next to the bed. ‘You’re safe now. Just rest. Don’t worry about anything. I can give you provisions for finals.’

  Re’lien shook her head.

  ‘That’s an order,’ Eri chimed in. ‘Rest.’

  ‘I’ve got a lot of savings from my frontier crypto-investments, so I’ve got you booked into this suite for as long as it takes for you to get healthy. I fetched your MindBand, the Grag-Tec one, and made sure to get your backed-up data.’

  Re’lien looked quizzical at the last part. She looked at her left wrist, where her wrist-tab nano-computer was inserted into her arm. A dark bruise, and a small mark.

  ‘Your tab was destroyed, but your apartment had a backup. So, don’t worry.’

  Re’lien glowered. She hated the procedure to have the nano-computer installed. She would have to get it again. She winced at the thought of the super-heated ray inserting the almost invisible speck into her arm. She was relieved that the data was safe, though. The notes could be replaced but one-hundred terabytes of v-flicks would be a schlep to re-download.

  ‘I only wish the vokken campus cameras saw them,’ Eri swore, clenching her fists. ‘What are those vushla guards being paid for?’

  Sola didn’t argue.

  ‘The culprits were probably just drop-outs from Trooper basic. Thugs can’t go to the front, so they make their own wars here.’

  ‘On that note,’ Eri said, ‘I can see Re’lien is getting tired.’

  Sola kissed Re’lien on the forehead and stood up.

  ‘I will see you again.’

  It sounded like a promise and a request.

  Eri and Sola left the room. The sliding door closed behind them as the lights dimmed. Re’lien could still hear them speaking on the other side.

  ‘It’s getting serious,’ Eri said.

  ‘I know,’ Sola replied. Re’lien had never heard her sound so despaired.

  ‘We can’t let her wander around so much. No more late nights. I’d even say that she should only connect to class via v-link.’

  ‘She’ll hate that. This is her home. She loves the freedom.’

  ‘I know, Sola. I do too. But, we can’t let something like this happen again – and we both know that we can’t protect her all the time. I’m going on tour again soon. Humanity calls, despite all these Gan grako voks.’

  ‘I wish you didn’t have to go. I need you here. She needs you here.’

  ‘And I will get back as soon as Black Fleet voks off to the rim again. Until then, you need to keep her safe.’

  ‘It’s been too long, Eri.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you forgot my training already.’

  ‘Never. But I have grown soft. I daresay that you have as well. That’s the way of Mars, isn’t it? We all grow soft. That’s why the Troopers are so obsessed with sending their children to war. It forges them. Makes them more than just cattle. It makes them human.’

  ‘What does it make us?’ Eri asked, a hint of sad sincerity in her voice.

  ‘Makes us closer to who we really are. Edal. The race that wiped out Ganymede. The race that, in some way, deserves what is happening to us.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Sola. Re’lien doesn’t deserve a bit of what happened to her.’

  ‘I know, Eri. I know. But they don’t know that. These humans that I teach and you protect – they may be our deaths.’

  ‘But until then, we serve.’

  ‘We serve,’ Sola repeated. They de
parted.

  Silence.

  “The Golden Age of Human Exploration ended in the minds of many when the desperation of discovery was outpaced by the fear of the unknown. When we pushed up to the Outer Rim, and were met with the horrors of the galaxy, only the bravest and most foolhardy wanted to push on.” – Erith Culom, from a lecture on the possibility of a second Golden Age of Human Exploration.

  Chapter 7.

  Frontier

  Re’lien didn’t attend her lectures. Despite her honour, she accepted Sola’s dispensation. She was healing fast, and could attend, even virtually – but something pushed her away from class. A shiver down her spine.

  We remember Ganymede.

  Even through a v-link, she didn’t want to be in the same room as that voice.

  Re’lien spent her days in the syn-clinic watching v-flicks through the MindBand. She had to stream them. She hadn’t gotten a replacement wrist-tab yet. Soon enough, she grew bored of the non-interactive entertainment. She tried to read, but even that was too sedentary. She wanted to walk. Like how she walked on Xerl. She had hated Xerl, but had found brief joy in walking. It cleared the head. She had loved walking on campus, around Fredala, the streets of Cape Nova and New London. But that was taken from her now.

  It wasn’t safe. Just like Xerl now. Maybe worse.

  All this left Re’lien with a crushing level of boredom. During a tedious episode of Order of Light, a thought struck her.

  Gaming.

  She had never played a game on Mars, but knew that they were popular. She had been too busy absorbing knowledge and entertainment to make any for herself. But now she had time and she needed a change of pace.

  In the central matrix of the MindBand, she browsed the marketplace for games. She didn’t know what to search for. This wasn’t like looking for shows. She wouldn’t just be experiencing a perspective, she would be the perspective. The actor.

  On the long list of games with varying graphical styles and themes, a game adaption of Order of Light popped up. Re’lien selected it but was met with a swathe of negative reviews.

  ‘Typical flick adaption.’

  ‘Blatant cred grab.’

  ‘Non-supportive devs. Dead game.’

  Re’lien back-paged. The next game caught her eye.

  Frontier – a game set on the fringes of inhabited space. Work with other players to build a thriving settlement on the edge of the galaxy.

  Re’lien had always wanted to go to the frontier. To see what life was like among settlers. Like Roses from Venus.

  She selected the game. It had generally positive reviews. One of the reviewers compared the game to Roses from Venus. Re’lien was immediately sold and bought the game for five MarsCred.

  An acoustic guitar twanged, as the introduction video showed an old junker starship approach the orbit of a green world. It was a beautiful planet, snaked with blue rivers and dotted with lakes. The rural melody twanged melancholily, but with a tinge of hope and an air of discovery. The junker touched down on the dirt surface. Jets of brown earth shot up and sand erupted in torrents. The doors opened slowly – and the screen changed to the title: Frontier.

  Re’lien was hooked immediately.

  ‘Welcome to the frontier,’ a blonde, tanned human woman wearing a straw-hat greeted. ‘Would you like to import your default avatar or design a new one?’

  Re’lien almost instinctively picked the former, but stopped. She chose an avatar that looked like her because she was confident in the truth. That on Mars, she couldn’t be hurt. But she had been hurt.

  No.

  This is virtual reality. I can’t be hurt here.

  ‘Default avatar. Thank you.’

  ‘Great choice, Re’lien. Frontier is a player-driven VRMMO. That means you must work together with other players to make this real-sized planet your home – the old-fashioned way. No syns here, except for those you can make yourself. No Trooper guards. No megacorps. Just you, your tools and the land. Happy pioneering!’

  Re’lien was dropped off in the middle of a grassy field. Nearby, she saw a line of fir-trees. No buildings. She breathed. Fresh air. No fumes. No smell of the city. She didn’t know that she had missed this. Xerl had been torture, but in a way, she missed it. The fresh air. The empty skies. Mars was her home now, but the city was too overwhelming.

  This was nice.

  ‘Well,’ she said to herself. ‘Better get to work.’

  

  Re’lien wiped her brow. She wore her frontiersman mozar leather jacket around her waist. Her tank-top was soaked with good, honest sweat. Her fingers were caked with dirt. She took a step back.

  The clearing in the small forest had been filled with brush and debris. It was clear now, and dominated by a triangular wooden structure and a firepit.

  ‘One last touch.’

  Re’lien used her kit’s lighter and lit the fire. The blaze seethed with energy, excitement and, most of all, accomplishment.

  Then Re’lien’s stomach growled.

  ‘I ate just before I started playing, though.’

  It growled again and she felt the faint stab of hunger.

  ‘Don’t tell me there’s a hunger mechanic.’

  She felt mildly irritated at the thought, but also excited. Struggle could be good. Challenge made winning mean something.

  She glanced up. The sun was almost completely set, leaving the sky a faint reddish grey.

  ‘Skite. I won’t be able to see anything in this light.’

  She regretted not killing the cute one eared rabbit looking things earlier. They were looking mighty tasty round about now. She resigned herself to spending the night hungry. Maybe she’d log out until the night was over. But that wasn’t proper. She was meant to be roughing it.

  A crack.

  Re’lien turned on her heels, sinking into a combat stance she had learnt from Eri all those years ago.

  ‘Easy, partner,’ a human with dark-stubble and a fake drawl said, raising his hands. ‘Just investigating this light here…Re’lien?’

  ‘You know me?’ Re’lien didn’t relax.

  ‘It’s Franc. We’re both in Interxeno Relations with Prof Sola. I’m the guy who…’

  ‘Keeps talking about orbital bombardment,’ Re’lien finished his sentence.

  Franc’s avatar blushed.

  ‘It’s an important topic.’

  ‘I agree. But there’s a time and a place.’ Re’lien eased up. ‘Want to sit?’

  Franc nodded and they both sat down by the fire.

  ‘I didn’t know you played Frontier. Or any games for that matter. Where’ve you been these past days? Haven’t seen you in class.’

  Re’lien looked into the fire.

  ‘I’m new. Bored of v-flicks. And…I’ve been in, actually still in, the hospital.’

  ‘Vok, why?’

  Re’lien clenched her fist. She didn’t usually open up to people. But Franc was…Franc. And it wasn’t a secret.

  ‘I was attacked. On campus.’

  Franc covered his mouth. ‘I’m sorry. I…I hope you’re okay.’

  ‘I am getting better.’

  ‘Do you know who it was?’

  Re’lien hesitated. Eventually, she stuttered out.

  ‘I don’t…but that day…the day I argued with Zieg, someone whispered to me as we exited class.’

  ‘Zieg?’

  ‘No. Didn’t sound like him. I didn’t recognise the voice.’

  ‘What did they say?’

  ‘We remember Ganymede.’ Re’lien shivered.

  ‘Xenophobic voks,’ Franc swore. Re’lien looked at him. He was looking at the fire. His avatar’s chiselled featured were flickering in the orange light. His look of intensity was severe and angry. This was personal.

  ‘I can’t blame them. Ganymede killed…’

  ‘Over a billion humans. I know. We all know. Fed that number for fifteen years. Order-Administration, corporate-schools and universities don’t mean it the way it’s come out, but
they guilty all the same. You keep reminding people that a dog can bite and all they see is a biting dog. They don’t see it needing affection. They treat it as rabid – and then they make it rabid.’

  Franc stopped.

  ‘Sorry…’

  ‘No,’ Re’lien said, ‘please go on.’

  ‘It’s not that important. It’s just…we’re taught the importance of individualism as humans. That we’re all different and that’s what we should celebrate. But then we’re told that xenos are lesser. That they’re the enemy. That we can bomb their planets into submission. It just doesn’t…sit right with me.’

  ‘This why people call you a xenophile?’ Re’lien tried to joke. It didn’t work out. Her joking smile came off insincerely. Franc didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘No,’ Franc smiled, but not at the jest. ‘That’s for something else.’

  He looked up and Re’lien did as well. Stars blanketed the sky.

  ‘It’s odd,’ Franc whispered, ‘that this virtual sky looks more real than the one over Mars.’

  Re’lien nodded, and they stared into the stars in silence.

  

  Franc fed Re’lien as soon as he realised she hadn’t hunted for the day.

  ‘Rookie mistake,’ he had chuckled.

  The meat was from a dugobeck, the one-eared rabbits from before. Franc had overcooked it and the meat was tough. Re’lien loved it. It tasted genuine – even if it was just virtual.

  In the morning, they went to Franc’s camp. When they arrived, Re’lien realised it wasn’t just a camp. It was a homestead. Two cabins, a scrap and wood watchtower and a crude-wooden and wire mesh fence. A chicken coop inhabited by three-eyed hens was linked to the one cabin.

  ‘The watchtower doesn’t get much use anymore,’ Franc explained. ‘Had raiders nearby, but while I may not want to join the Troopers IRL, I’m a passable shot in virtual. But should actually thank Grettaduk. She’s the sheriff of this homestead. Defended us all.’

  ‘Grettaduk?’

  ‘You’ll meet her now.’

  A human avatar with silky, long brown hair exited the one cabin.

  ‘Franc! Thought you’d fallen into a trapped ruin somewhere. Wasn’t looking forward to fetching you from spawn.’