Aftereffect, p.17
Aftereffect, page 17
I nod. “Class?” Right then the side console explodes, throwing Oren across the bridge. I can feel my anxiety raising slightly–I don’t know if he is repaired enough to initiate an upload. There is a jagged breach where the console was. The emergency fields beneath the hull activate, and I find myself looking at a crude metal tear leading to the darkness of space. “Oren, I need a sign of life please.”
He rolls over. “I’m ok, but that was really close.”
“We can’t take too many hits like that.”
He pauses for a few seconds before pushing himself to stand and resuming his station. “Phantom class destroyer. My scanner is fluctuating too much to get a real-time accurate location.” He wipes his face with a handkerchief. The metal protruding his cheek is minimal.
Without warning we are hit again. This time I feel a surge shoot up through my spine. “New tactic. Prepare the core.”
“Lex, we shouldn’t use it again without assessing the damage to the Oshi’s systems.”
“No time.”
“But it could be dangerous. The energy reserve is only nominally over thirty-three percent.”
I nod. “And if we wait too long we could be dead.”
Oren takes a moment to process my words. If he’s afraid then he isn’t showing any signs of it. “A full jump will tear the Oshi apart in this condition.”
I point to the literal hole in the wall. “No different than if we stay still. We won’t do a full jump. Scan the rest of the system. I want to know exactly what’s out there before we do anything. Please confirm this is the last target in the immediate area.”
He turns to the scanner and inputs several commands into the console. “This is the last one on this side of the belt. There is still the station and two small vessels near Juno, but they look to be Goran class.”
I sigh. “So no threat then.”
“Not that I can see.”
The Oshi is in need of time. I retract the integration spike from my hand and pause just long enough for some of my aura to recover. Oren watches as I move to one of the side consoles and brush several items out of the way. An old comic falls to the floor as I start shifting power.
A big red button lights up in front of me. “This should work.”
“Lex, they’re coming around for another pass–”
“I’m going to shift this section of the bridge right into that ship.” A separation field goes up–isolating this station. “Small sight to sight transport. Be ready to activate the emergency field manually if it doesn’t auto-deploy. That should give you time to repair the Oshi and set a course for home. Traven should be incoming to provide an escort at the very least.” I look away from the scanner.
“Lex…”
“No, none of that. Take Danica back to Zairon. Without me if necessary. If this body fails then I need you to go, understand? Get to a safe distance.”
I pause. “Flying The Oshi in this form is a two person job. I won’t make it on my own. My body isn’t–”
I shake my head. “No excuses, Oren. This is your responsibility. Get home.”
“Lex, please–”
I push the button. Within seconds, the Harkonnen Core activates and I feel the familiar molecular shift–the phasing is gradual. I need to be ready; the power output is muted as the image of Oren and the Oshi is quickly replaced with a foreign atrium just moments before a small explosion erupts. My molecules settle and I feel my aura fluctuate as the fields lower.
I step down from the piece of the Oshi I brought with me and feel the heat of the flames smouldering beneath the grate of the Menth ship. Currently it’s quiet, but I know this won’t last long.
The alarm oscillates.
I draw my weapons and begin walking to the heart of the atrium. The scuttling of multiple Menthiopod feet is subtle, but I can hear them. A precision beam flies past me and I squeeze the trigger four times up in the direction it came.
A large insectoid screeches before it falls forward over the edge of an upper level. Its shell hits the ground with a large thud and immediately begins to lose its colour.
“A Zpectrite. It’s a Zpectrite… The intruder is a Zpectrite. Someone get the fusion bonds.” These words hiss over and over on a frequency lower than human hearing can register.
Two Menths charge from behind me and I dodge them both with ease. Several rounds launch from my weapons into the exposed flesh protruding each thorax shell. The result is the same. Two more thuds and then a moment of calm.
I holster a weapon and raise my hand to collect the bullets. “Disgusting creatures. Nothing more than clumsy hunters.”
“Is that what you think of us, Zpectrite?” The voice is distinct. “Then you’ve never met a proper hunter.”
I quickly scan the area, but I don’t see anyone. “Is that so?”
Two clicks. “I can smell your container failing. You are easy prey.”
“If this body fails, you will die with me.” I continue down a large corridor. What I need to find is the ship’s power source.
“I am an experienced hunter. There are ways to kill you well before that body fails–you will be my next trophy.”
Disable the ship and Oren is safe. “I am not easy prey.”
“Always so arrogant. Your kind is almost extinct for a reason.”
I chuckle. “There are few of us, but we are nowhere close to extinct.”
A giant Menth bursts through the wall, hitting me back, and pinning me to the ground. Its mandibles plummet into my shoulder and I feel as if a pressure is being released. The bonds in its claws pulsate and I suddenly feel disoriented. My aura fluctuates as I position my weapon between its neck plates and pull the trigger.
All its weight drops on me as the scuttling resumes all around. Its shell doesn’t change colour so I keep shooting until it does.
“It’s a Zpectrite. I’ve never had a live Zpectrite before.” The whispers match the scuttling.
I groan as I force the Menth carapace off of me just in time to see the Menths gather. My shoulder begins to throb and I can feel myself becoming more and more lightheaded.
No time to think.
I begin a quick sprint into the heart of the movement. Bullets fly and then return to my hand with ease. There are screams from my enemies, but they don’t really register as I stay in motion. Each corridor feels familiar–this isn’t the first time I’ve been aboard a Menth ship.
More movement.
More bullets.
I only stop when everything is silent. For a moment there is nothing–at least nothing which shows any sign of life.
My shoulder is on fire now and my vision is beginning to blur. That’s when I hear a loud thud directly in front of me; one Menth favouring its left side.
It stumbles before falling to the ground. “A Zpectrite Commander.”
My vision is developing blindspots. “It angers me that all of this could have been avoided.”
It continues an awkward crawl. “You can’t… you could… sustain us…”
I fire two bullets, but I know they miss. “Parasites.”
Without warning my legs give out and I feel a build-up in my chest. The Menth continues to crawl and I know what is inevitable. I holster my weapons and concentrate on staying calm.
“You’re afraid.” The Menth stops his crawling as it lies only a few feet away. “It’s strange to see.”
I chuckle. “You wouldn’t understand.”
The Menth clicks its mandibles. “Isolate, steal, and abandon. That is the Zpectrite way.”
“Such a narrow view.”
“The bonds… put them on or you’ll kill us all.” Next to the Menth are the same ties the hunter had. They glow a distinct purple hue.
“Death is part of the cycle. If it’s time then I’m ready.”
It happens–a full release of dark matter pours out of my wounds and I am both relieved and horrified. This creature startles and then dies, as the essence which makes up this body poisons the atmosphere of the ship. I’m not afraid, but this is an outcome I would’ve rather avoided if possible. Collateral damage should always be intentional, not a byproduct. I don’t know how much damage this will do.
“Oren, I hope you listened to me.”
My thoughts are my own and all of this is a chain reaction.
It’s out of my hands now.
37
WORLD POWERS
SHORTLY AFTER THE MENTHIOPOD SHIP LEFT, Cook and his team arrived at Sanctuary. He was quite upset that Pickett spoke to both sets of aliens without him, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. After huffing and puffing about being in charge, she informed that the communication was not over, and he demanded he be the one to deal with them from then on. Pickett of course, objected, but that only led to a back-and-forth much like in Columbus.
A similar sound to the Menthiopod ship echoes outside the vessel awaiting launch. A brown object zips into view, before stopping in the air above the field where the ships had landed before. A soldier near the head of the bridge raises binoculars up and studies it. “It looks like a drone, it’s just hovering there…” He trails off as the small object shoots out a beam of blue light that hits the nose of Sanctuary. Suddenly the main screen on the bridge changes.
Xelxion stands centre screen, with others behind him, “Greetings inhabitants of Earth. As gathering you all in one location is not possible at this time, we will use these transmitters as a means to communicate with everyone.”
Six more windows open along the right side of the screen, each showing a different country leader. There is no indication of exactly where these images are coming from, however it’s clear each of them are in a spacecraft similar to Sanctuary.
Pickett smirks, “Lex said this idea wasn’t original.”
“Don’t be foolish. We are probably miles ahead of everyone else.” Cook snarls.
Xelxion makes a sound similar to how a human would clear their throat, “I know it’s a little primitive, but please call out your region of this planet one at a time. It will make things easier for everyone involved.”
Cook starts, “United States of America.”
“China.”
“Europe… Space Association.”
“Russia.”
“India.”
“Japan.”
Xelxion nods along as each name is said. “Excellent, everyone is accounted for.” He adjusts himself before continuing. “As I mentioned to each of you individually, this planet is in its dying stages. Our species has begun mining the valuable elements, deep under the surface, so as to not let them go to waste.”
Xinkess steps on screen, “Where this becomes difficult, is each of you are after a different end goal. We’d like to reach a compromise all parties are happy with, before this planet becomes uninhabitable for you humans.”
“I don’t see what's difficult,” The man from China interrupts, “You say we all have different goals, but I can guarantee we all are after the same thing, getting off this planet.”
Xelxion steps back to the centre of the screen, “Correct. However, that is your starting point, not your end goal. Terraforming a planet is a tremendous feat, as is building a self-sustaining space station.”
There is an explosion of chatter from the seven screens as each group argues why their plan will work. The Japanese team feels confident in their ability to produce food in space. China, Russia, and Cook all speak about their vessels' survivability. While the European group and the Indian team talk about the amount of people they can save.
Xelxion raises his claws, and all the arguing mutes, even though each group continues on for a short time after the sound cuts. “As promised, we will send transport ships to each of your locations. Any human who would like to come live aboard our station, currently orbiting Jupiter, is to board. They will be taken there, will be given a dwelling, and will need to get jobs that contribute to the station’s functioning.”
“And what about those who don’t?” Russia asks.
“We can give aid, but only to one cause.” Xelxion pauses briefly, “As each group is acting independently, helping each of you obtain your individual goals would be taxing and a large use of resources. We have decided that you are to agree on one course of action and see it to completion. We believe this will give you the highest rate of survival on your own.”
“And how are we supposed to decide on a single plan, when we are all over the world?” Even if we all launch at the same time, we are pointed at different parts of space.” India retorts.
“We will escort each of your vessels to the agreed upon location and even offer aid in setting up. However, after that, you will be left to survive on your own.”
Xinkess steps onto the screen again. “Your vessels alone will not be enough to create a fully functioning station. I would recommend abandoning that goal. Unless you all want to starve.” She looks away and then back to the screen, “Luna and Mars seem to be the smartest plans, if I may be so bold.”
“Discuss amongst yourselves. The transport ships will be there shortly.” Xelxion’s picture cuts and all that's left are the six groups.
The Russian representative pulls a pocket watch out of his breast pocket, looks at it briefly, and puts it away, “So, we are to listen to these aliens?”
“It seems they don't have faith in our ability to survive.” Japan sighs.
“Can you blame them, we’ve only been to our moon. These things look like they’ve been travelling in space for a long time.” The woman from Europe shakes her head.
“That’s not true. We have a small settlement on Mars. In fact, there are already humans there, awaiting our arrival.” Cook smiles cockily.
“Bullshit.” Russia shouts. “We would have noticed extra trips to mars, if that was the case.”
“There were no extra trips,” Cook smiles confidently, “All of you knew we sent things to the red planet, what we didn’t share was some of those things were living.”
Pickett crosses her arms, “Is there anything built on the moon?”
“No, not yet.” Russia speaks again, “We intended to use our vessel for shelter. Build out from there.”
Silence.
“Am I to assume everyone else just planned on floating through space.” Pickett’s eyebrow raises.
“A space station-” China starts.
“Is a bad idea, didn’t you just hear what was said?” Cook barks.
“Of course America thinks it’s in charge.” Europe chimes in.
“None of us are in charge here,” India shouts, “Those aliens are the ones calling the shots right now. We either do as they say, or we die.”
“Would there be enough space for all of us on Mars?” Japan asks.
“Well, maybe with the resources on all of our vessels combined it could be feasible.” Pickett turns, “Major?”
Cook fumbles over his thoughts before regaining his composure. “I believe that using the technologies we’ve all collected, might give us the best shot at surviving on the red planet.”
Pickett nods, “Huang, please go through the vessel and inform everyone on board that if they wish to live with aliens, their ship will be here soon.”
“Yes ma’am.” he nods, then orders Blackwell, Morrison, and Zath to follow him as he leaves.
“And besides, who knows how many people will actually take this deal. We may have more than enough room.”
Cook nods slightly, “If we would have known we were being split like this, I would have arranged for more survivors to be brought here.”
“You say that as if a decision has already been reached.” Russia barks.
“And you say that like you had a better option.” Pickett smiles to herself, “We are the only ones here with a plan on how to survive.”
“That’s not true.” China shouts. “You’re arrogant to assume we’d just roll over and die.”
“But can any of us realistically pull off surviving in the vacuum of space?” Europe sighs, “Yes, we may all have plans. But were they really going to work, long term, or just delay the inevitable?”
“And what about the government and laws? Are we just to come together and live as one?” China.
“Do those bugs not understand there is more to it than just putting everyone together? Humans have been fighting each other for all of history.” Japan.
“Well it seems now is time to deliver. We come together and work at survival, or we stay separate and die on our own. That’s what I’m hearing.” The man in India lifts a glass bottle of cola to his lips.
“So, you’d go to Mars?” Russia.
“I would choose the option that has the highest chance of survival, if that’s going to Mars, then that is what we will do.” India responds.
“I agree. If Mars is prepared for human settlement, I see no reason to start from scratch elsewhere.” Europe replies.
“No, we refuse to be trapped with Americans. We will succeed on our own, despite what those things say.” Russia groans, “How do we turn this fucking thing off?” Suddenly the feed drops, and the window closes.
“Is anyone else going to go at it alone?” Cook grins, “Cause you will not be met with resistance.”
A roaring from outside indicates the transport ship is close. Larger than the previous ships, and quite a bit slower, it lumbers towards the empty field next to the hangar. As it descends, dirt and dust are kicked up into the air as the trees nearly bend in half. Legs extend and the ship touches the ground.
“The transport’s here.” There is a pause as Pickett looks from the landing ship, back to the screen, “I guess it’s time for everyone to decide.”
38
THE HISTORY OF FRIENDSHIP
LICENSE #2166Z8 - OREN
[MEMORY BANK 72]
I CAN'T DO THIS ALONE. This is a fact, not a moment of low self-esteem. The Oshi is a complicated vessel designed to be operated and maintained by at least two people. It is physically impossible for me to both carry out repairs, and monitor the systems.
I’d be as good as blind and that is a disaster waiting to happen.
I need help–I need Danica.
The reality of the situation lingers as I look over at the gaping hole where Lex was just a few minutes ago. I hadn’t seen that look in her eye in a long time–they were filled with intent.
