Read Remember the Starfighter Online
Authors: Michael Kan
Remember the Starfighter (34 page)
PART III: GUARDIANS OF MAN
The two bots, built like orbs of onyx, were each only the size of a clenched fist. But even so, the defense drones rose to the air and carried Arendi’s body with ease, ferrying her forth with the help of an anti-gravity field. Julian and the New Terran specialist trailed behind, running through the station’s hallway.
<
I received your message from Gamma Dyrannus. It mentioned that you were heading here. I came as soon possible, only to be stopped by patrolling SpaceCore craft.>
She moved to the beat of her armor, the polished exosuit like added muscle to her arms and torso, silent in each stride.
Julian looked off at the body ahead of them.
“Arendi,” he said, too flustered to explain.
They turned a corner, and spotted the black fissure in the hallway. The specialist’s bio-vessel had forced its way onto the premises, breaching the station’s bulkhead with a landing bridge. The intrusive pathway now bonded with the base wall, the organic mass congealing against the hull.
He entered the vessel, the porcelain-like inner chambers unchanged from before. But in only a few steps, Julian stopped himself, feeling his surroundings shake and shriek. It sounded almost like a scream.
“Are we under attack?”
The specialist glared, running past him.
As the pair of drones towed the android along, Julian followed the specialist into another section of the ship. He entered a separate room that opened like a suction, the organic walls of the vessel still in place. However inside, he recognized the setting, the confines designed like a ship’s bridge.
The specialist stood in the center of the room, flanked by two holographic displays, the neon lights bustling with oscillating scans and battlefield data. At the fore was a large view screen, showing a live shot of the oncoming attack. Two SpaceCore cruisers had begun targeting their position, the weapons bursting in streams of hot plasma.
The bio-ship detached itself from the base, relinquishing its embrace to dodge the approaching attack. The plasma fire passed under its body, as the vessel spun on its axis and flared its main engines.
Alysdeon set a new course away from the station, only for her ship to be bombarded by more weapons blasts. The vessel shook to the blows, the plasma beams bursting over its protective shields.
Julian came to the specialist and saw the scans on the virtual displays. More SpaceCore ships were approaching, maybe seven in total, no doubt with weapons ready.
She nodded to her fore, the large view screen synching to the open frequency. It no longer showed the attacking ships, but the image of a near immortal man and his embalmed face.
“You pick-pocketed me,” Admiral Alvadan said in a snarl through the channel. “I didn’t know you would be so bold Sovereign, or so ruthless. Have you no manners?”
Sovereign
— it was not a term Julian had expected to hear, but it was the title the specialist had once lived by.
She spoke through the ship itself, her mind echoing the words into a now equally hostile voice.
The admiral flexed his fist, licking his artificial teeth.
“Those agreements are invalid. Especially when you break into this station, and attack my personnel.”
Alvadan batted the insult away.
“I won’t let you leave. You’re harboring both that android, and a fugitive. I’ve just sent all remaining SpaceCore ships to surround you.”
A battle was the last outcome either had wanted. In Alvadan’s case, it meant putting in danger more of his already scarce resources. He needed to only look at the destroyed sections of his battered station to know the possible costs.
The admiral did not weigh his options for long.
“Fine,” he said, with pride. “Someone has to pay for what happened here today.”
The open channel cut off, as another volley of plasma fire rampaged down over the ship. The vessel flew on, charging engines to full capacity, as the weapons blast exploded.
“Alysdeon, what’s our status?” Julian said.
He did not fully recognize the controls on the virtual displays, but could only imagine that the shields were weakening.
She smiled, even as the vessel jolted on its dangerous path. But her confidence was not unfounded. The bio-ship was indeed fast. As it gathered speed, the vessel dove through the incoming weapons fire, nearly unscathed. Plasma blasts, and even laser cannons, struggled to hit the accelerating ship, barely nipping at its shields. The SpaceCore vessels themselves could only slowly turn and witness, as the specialist and her vessel sped on in a trail of blue light.
“Are you seeing this?”
Julian pointed to one of the panels on the holo-display. It was a grid that showed all seven surrounding SpaceCore ships. Spontaneously, the numbers began to rise.
Failing to catch the specialist, admiral Alvadan embarked on his next strategy. Three SpaceCore carriers had opened their bay doors, and unleashed a growing number of sentry attack drones. The smaller vessels were not only automated, but perhaps just as fast.
“Scans are counting over 30 drones, coming from three directions,” Julian said. “How close are we to reaching a hyperspace point?”
Julian saw the undeterred gaze in the specialist’s face. He understood the gambit she had wanted to play. Yet this time, the odds were not in their favor. They needed another solution. Julian only had to think back, and look at the SpaceCore station, its position unchanged; the former manufacturing facility was probably unarmed.
As the view screen showed the firing SpaceCore ships, he noticed the station hang in the backdrop, completely exposed.
“What weapons do you have on this ship?”
“Do you have any long-range missiles?”
“No, don’t target the sentries. Target the station.”
For a moment, the specialist thought Julian absurd. She despised admiral Alvadan enough, but she was not serious about hurting him, let alone another human.
Only with a glimpse into his psyche, did Alysdeon begin to understand his idea. She returned to the controls, and ordered the ship to prepare.
“Launch them in a wide spread,” Julian advised. “Make it random, hard to pin down.”
In one wide turn, the bio-ship detoured and plotted a bombing run targeting the station. It loaded the sequence of weapons, and fired them off, the missiles carrying enough anti-matter to incinerate an asteroid.
Alysdeon looked to the scans, and began noticing the change. Only a dozen missiles had been fired, but already they began altering the battlefield, scattering themselves apart. She ordered the ship to fire another round, and then another.
Julian nodded, reasoning that SpaceCore had no alternative. Even as the missiles were slow, each one could potentially obliterate a target. For a space station that could not move, the threat would be impossible to ignore.
The view screen displayed the open channel, the admiral reappearing. This time decidedly grim-faced.
“I underestimate you yet again,” he said coldly. “I just hope you’re not serious with your attack. We may not be able to stop all your missiles.”
“Done,” the admiral said, without hesitation.
The specialist sent the order through her mind, the army of missiles bowing to the call, and exploding a safe distance away from any nearby ships.
“I hope you know what you are doing Sovereign. You just cost us some vital supplies.”
The admiral sneered. The old man had a parting gift of his own.
“Just tell Julian that he’s a wanted man. SpaceCore won’t forget this. Alvadan out.”
They watched the mechanical arm try to do its work, the spinning gears and locking levers maneuvering the finger-like cutting lasers into position. It did this for close to a minute, hovering over its subject, tentative, reluctant to venture forth — like it was too afraid, too unsure how to proceed.
“Is there anything we can do?” Julian asked inside the ship’s medical bay.
He waited behind a transparent glass wall, observing the emergency procedure. Under the mechanical arm was Arendi, her condition no different. She lay on the operating table lifeless, the mechanics of her complex body having gone inert.
Julian wondered how resilient she truly was, only to then recall the pained anguish in her face. It had been like watching a person die.
“I should have never brought her there,” he said in guilt.
Alysdeon, still clothed in her power suit, said nothing. She turned away from the transparent wall, and looked over the preliminary scans from a nearby console. After a long pause, she placed her hand on the control system and ordered the mechanical arm to stand down.
The specialist pointed to Arendi’s metallic exterior, the layers of nano-machines still hardened and resisting any form of intrusion.
The specialist was no roboticist, but she showed Julian the scans. The ship’s computer had detected the strange activity inside what was Arendi’s stomach cavity. Exactly what it was remained elusive, the readings almost confounding.
“It’s the same power behind the Endervars,” Julian said. “Arendi, somehow, was able to contain it, tap into it.”
He did his best to recall what he saw on the station; the destruction Arendi had brought was almost unexplainable, but no less real.
“She literally crushed an entire Ouryan battleship,” he said. “But not before she began to malfunction. Whatever is powering her started to damage her systems.”
It was a worrying conclusion. Alysdeon could feel the urgency.
She tapped the side of her wrist, and then placed a finger on her collar. Slowly, the power suit began to deflate, the rock-like muscles oozing from her arms, and slackening into lumps of fabric. The web of cybernetic nodes, a belt of metal weight, fell to the floor, sounding a loud thump.
Alysdeon sighed in a voiceless breath. She wanted to remove the rest of her black outfit, but was too tired. Nor was it the proper place. The specialist, instead, reached from her back, and detached the large, but formerly concealed weapon.
Julian took the object carefully, and held the long crescent of angular material in his hands. Along the edge were open vents and winding wires, fitted over what felt to be a slab of polished stone. He gripped it hard and raised the weapon vertically, thinking he was holding some kind of dipping dagger. The specialist smiled.
She motioned with her hands, flinging her wrist in a throw.
Julian had seen the results first hand. “Damn,” he said, impressed.
century weaponry still remains the best>
she replied.
Lifting the device, Julian returned it to its rightful place on the wall, the weapon surrounded by other objects he thought long gone.
“Is this what I think it is?”
It modestly hanged on the wall, the circular dial held inside a block of lumber. A golden bell swayed at the bottom, ticking back and forth.
Next to it were a row of paintings, each different than the others. Outside a few digital images, Julian had never seen such artwork; the oils and brushstrokes depicted vistas and peoples free of modern technology. One showed a coastal town at night, both the abstract beach and sky swirling in a blue. Another held the image of a regal woman, adorned in the classical jewels and fabrics belonging to a far-off past.
Julian walked further, and noticed the other relics, recognizing a musical violin, several hanging dresses, and even figurine-like toys, among the exhibited objects. He then came upon a cabinet, and found a technology long absent — the shelf containing a library of books. Actual books, bound and crafted in paper pages, still preserved.
He placed his finger on a row of them, trying to read the titles. One of the larger tomes grabbed his attention, the order of the letters dated in language Julian could not place.
The specialist stepped to his side, and lifted the cover off the book, opening the novel to its first pages.
Julian lacked the language to appreciate the book. However, he still enjoyed its craftsmanship, even as the text seemed daunting to try and digest. He looked around, and recognized that by today’s standards, some of these items would be considered irrelevant. Others were a lost and forgotten art, replaced by a future culture manufacturing and consuming everything in its virtual form.
In spite of the age, Julian stood there and saw the beauty of it all. He carefully placed the book back on the shelf, thinking about how far humanity had come, along with the great strides it had made.
She pointed to the object at the end of the room. Encased in glass, it appeared like a remnant of stone under the light. But in reality, it was a piece of bulkhead, sawed off from a famous ship. Inscribed upon it were the old and faded, but still readable words.
“Seed Ship 106,” Julian said. “The New Terra.”
The specialist crossed her arms, pleased that, for once, she had someone to share and enjoy her possessions with.
She delicately placed her hand down on the casing. Together, the artifacts all undoubtedly represented an impressive collection. Few actual relics had survived humanity’s escape from the Endervars, and most had come from the outer-colonies, and not from the original homeworld of Earth.
Julian looked again at his surroundings and recognized that he was actually in a museum. Yet it wasn’t just the objects that were age-old, but the woman standing next to him. He turned to the specialist, and saw the engineered youth in her perfectly cropped face — the golden strands of hair unblemished after all this time. It belied so much. Not only her age, but her own place in the pantheon of human history.
“So, should I still call you Alysdeon?” Julian asked. “Or is Sovereign the proper term?”
She had expected as much, knowing that her past could not remain a mystery for long. Alysdeon sheepishly grinned.
“You
are
the Sovereign,” Julian repeated. “Sovereign Davinity.”
Julian stepped back and gazed over the specialist.
“I didn’t make the connection at first. But your age. You were the first. The first real New Terran.”
The specialist shook her head, nearly rolling her eyes at the thought.
It was true. The specialist had never uttered a word, or even much a sound to him. Other New Terrans, meanwhile, spoke with ease. She touched her throat, and massaged it back and forth. It left Julian to guess that perhaps she had no vocal chords. Or at least not like a human.
Alysdeon walked away in a drift, only to spot the portraits on a wooden desk. They were a series of photos, printed on paper, and framed to sit on individually propped up stands. Each held a picture of a different person, spanning what could have been centuries. She held one in particular, the photo of the man so old it had been shot in gray and black hues.
She placed the portrait back down at the table, and sighed.
Julian felt the coldness enter his mind, the failure sapping his breath.
“That’s not true,” he said, calling upon the history he knew. “You’re a legend. You rallied the seed colonies together. United the remnants of mankind. Entered us into the Alliance. All this happened before I was even born.”
Alysdeon shook her head, refusing the praise.
Julian could not recall how things had ended with the historical figure standing before him. But Alysdeon certainly could.
Alysdeon briefly clenched her fist, like the anger was at her grasp. It was a hatred Julian could never know, lasting not for years, but for decades upon decades.
The specialist, however, let it all figuratively fall to the floor. Her fingers simply dangled free in what was now a disarming smile.
Julian could have been mistaken, but it now seemed that specialist had begun to laugh, the sound lost, but the relief evident.
She approached Julian, her hand reaching out to almost touch his face.
Alysdeon raised her hands, and Julian could see the shine of the implants weave throughout her arms, neck and even face. Her crystal eyes glowed. They were all meant to be enhancements, but at what cost?
It led Julian to think about his own condition, technology keeping him alive, reviving him twice.
The specialist placed her hand on Julian’s shoulder.
“No, this is my duty as much as yours,” he said firmly.
Julian smirked. “Good riddance. The SpaceCore I knew is long gone.”
Alysdeon nodded, still apologetic, but comforted by his determination.
“Does he know robotics?”
<
I’m not sure. But he is the smartest being I know. I’m confident he can help.>
The specialist glanced off at the glass casing, spying the remnant of the seed ship housed inside.
“Isn’t that their homeworld?”