Remember the Starfighter (48 page)

“Why are you here?” Julian asked. “And what do you want?”

He kept circling back to the question, as he paced across the bridge, looking out into the view screen. Even though his sights were set on the surrounding anomaly, Julian could only think about what he had seen in his sleep. It chafed in his mind, the imprint of the visions still repeating across his thoughts.

His hand.

An orange flower.

The stars in their multitude.

And then the universe. All merging. Coming back together. Into one point. What did it mean?

Never before had communication been established with the enemy; the Endervars were simply incapable, or had no interest in chatting. Instead, they had made their intentions clear with every successive invasion, destroying whatever resistance to lay claim to their prize.

Sentient life. For whatever reason, the Endervars craved it.

Julian thought back to all the theories, and that the Endervars were perhaps terraforming the galaxy. Anyone trapped behind the enemy barrier would be killed off by the radiation from the shield, or die with no access to sunlight.

Others, however, were more bold. They believed that the enemy was, in fact, a higher power. One bent on uplifting all life to the next existence.

Whether they should be welcomed or resisted, had just been part of the long-running debates surrounding the Endervars. Even religious movements had come about, proclaiming the so-called “visitors” to be an ancient god come back.

Julian could only wonder. “Why keep us alive?” he asked in a whisper. “Why preserve us?”

He was here at the center of the enemy gateway. But outside was still a world flourishing with life. 11 billion humans, all trapped, but safely, behind the enemy barrier.

Even with the Endervar shield, sunlight and warmth were still reaching the planet, keeping its eco-system and atmosphere whole.  

The only hint behind the enemy’s motives had come from the visions. The dreams. Inside his mind, Julian had caught not just a glimpse, but a lasting sequence of images, the origin of which had come from the Endervars.

The hand.

The flower.

The galaxy.

Shrinking and condensing. The sequence repeating. Almost involuntarily, he saw them, only to shake his head, and breathe in deep.

If it was a message, then it was ominous one. And yet, he had wanted to see it. Through their power, the Endervars had compelled him to imagine it, the feeling closer to possession, than any form of communication.

Exhausted, Julian lay his two hands on a railing and squeezed, hoping the images would just fade. He did not want to sleep. Rather, he stood on the bridge, checking the scans.

ALERT: VECTOR 1-45-6. INCOMING OBJECT.

Although he had initially feared it was an enemy ship, the Au-O’sanah’s still functioning computer had showed it to be a much smaller object, closer to the size of a personal shuttle. The matter analysis registered no typical Endervar energy signatures, but just a shell of metal, propelled by the pulse of a laser.

The object finally came within visual range, the little craft emerging above the Au-O’sanah. It cruised along, ready to dock back with its mothership, the Elion.

As the vessel began its descent, Julian noticed what had to be refits across the hull. The unmanned vehicle barely resembled its original form, shedding off its smoothed exterior for a jumble of sensory equipment, and two robotic arms.

Julian knew what this was. Arendi had briefed him about it, the craft a surgical tool of sorts. Blinking in a crown of red and blue lights, the unmanned vehicle had just returned from the fringes of the void. Its purpose: to search for and contain the precious alien matter that the Endervar gateway so constantly generated.

For centuries and millennia it had done this, stockpiling away the bits of exotic material it could extract. Only within the gateway, could the craft achieve this — the area approachable and still oozing with traces of Endervar matter.

To maintain the vessel, it had been rebuilt with salvaged debris and parts from the Elion, including what had been its last remaining engine. Back and forth, the vehicle went, the A.I. known as Servetus controlling it remotely.

Julian breathed a sigh of relief, thinking everything was normal. 

ALERT: VECTOR 8-25-1. COMM-SIGNAL DETECTED.

Off in the other corner of the anomaly was the disturbance. The view screen panned to show that the wall of energy surrounding the void began to erupt. On the other end, he could see it. The open sky of Earth.

For the entire span of a minute, a circular tunnel pierced its way past the gateway, and out into atmosphere. He saw the Endervar energy churn around the channel, before it disappeared, the wall reforming as if nothing had happened.

The scans had also picked up the change. But it was more than just an opening. Through the tunnel came the data stream, the communications both public and encrypted, beaming between both the Elion, and the outside world.

THIS IS EARTHFORCE. ARE YOU THERE? CAN YOU READ THIS ELION?

In that moment, the surrounding communication interference had been lifted. And with it, contact between Earth, however brief, had been re-established.

Julian then received the other alert. He looked to his communication band, and saw that the message was from Arendi. Or what he hoped was actually her.

The technology to break the shield had been completed, she signaled. Now it was time to retrieve it. 

He didn’t recognize her at first. She had abandoned all her clothing and gone back to her earlier form — that of a woman, surrounded in machine, the suit of armor now solid.

It was the same as before, the silver metal sleek, but hard and certainly more alloy than fabric. She was inside the Elion’s mainframe room, her arms akimbo. A spider-bot stood perched on her shoulder, while another was on her leg, each one completing a set of modifications.

There was no face, only the armor. It covered the entire head, the human features exchanged for plates of metal.

Julian didn’t know what to say. Was this Arendi? Or was this just Servetus having taken full control? 

The armor around the face receded, as the two spider-bots crawled down the body and onto the floor. The nano-suit then began to move. It pulled away the sheets of metal, stopping at the neck and the ears.

Arendi shook her head, the black hair tossing, as she brushed it back. “Are you feeling better?” she asked.

It wasn’t Servetus as he had feared; it was her, even as she stood absolutely still. The rest of her body seemed heavy, and immobile, but her face remained active and alive. 

“Yeah, a little bit,” Julian replied. “And you? Back to your old self?”

She smiled, and looked across her two stationary arms, the gleaming metal wrapped around them.

“Actually, an important modification was made.”

She raised her left arm, and flashed the object at her wrist. A circular lens was attached, the edges plated, but the center shinning in a glistening darkness. It was the enemy’s power, but contained behind a large arm-band that stretched to the elbow.

Arendi then planted both her arms down at the side. All of the armor began pulling back, the nano-machines stretching apart, and releasing her body from the tight embrace.

With the armor still standing, but behind her, Arendi walked out free, clothed in her black and white Hegemony uniform.

“I saw it,” Julian said. “The opening in the anomaly. Just minutes ago.”

“Yes,” Arendi replied. “I opened it.”

She held the side of her wrist with her other hand, and grinned.

“Servetus wanted to attempt contact with EarthForce. It seems there’s another ship outside the gateway, several hundred kilometers away.”

“Did it work?”

“It seems so. It was only brief, but we’ve sent off all our data back to the Science Foundation, hoping it will be of use.”

He looked off at his surroundings, and glanced at the large fusion chamber in the center. As dark as ever, the chamber vibrated in a rhythmic beat, the equipment still functional and unblemished by time.

“Your ship has been here for so long, but no one knew.”

“Not anymore,” she said.

Arendi walked past him and stared up at the fusion chamber, the ancient A.I. quiet.

“Initially, we had focused on re-establishing contact with Earth. The crew had long been dead, and we had no superior.”

“The comm interference,” Julian said. “You could never get a message out?”

“Every few centuries, we could glean some small sporadic data from outside. Data we had to slowly piece together. But we were never certain if EarthForce had received our signal.”

Arendi then walked closer to the fusion chamber, and placed her hand on the container surrounding it. She did so, affectionately, brushing the glass with her fingers, although the sadness was still there. Julian approached her side, and saw the worried glance in her eyes.   

“You were alone this whole time.”

Arendi wasn’t quick to answer. She simply rubbed the glass, and then pressed her hand completely on its cold surface.

“Eventually, Servetus moved beyond his programming,” she went on. “To focus on the mission at hand. He calculated that even with Earth’s aid, it would not be enough to stop the enemy. They would simply return.”

“So a plan was devised,” she added. “And I became a part of it.”

Pacing back, Arendi released her hand from the glass. She was calm, but still reflective, and held her arms together, walking away.

“The plan was a success,” Julian said. “It’s more than you could have hoped for.”

“But it could not be done alone,” she replied. “Even with all of Servetus’s calculations, he could not foresee it. He could not foresee you.”

Arendi raised her head and looked at him. It was a glance based on gratitude, the passing look eventually blinking away. She unfurled her arms.

“It may be some time before EarthForce formally responds to our communication. Another opening will need to be made again. But it’s done.”

“Come,” she then said, leading Julian out from the mainframe room. “The Alliance technology that we’ve brought with us, I’ve applied it.”

It was a frame of a ship, bare bones and incomplete. The pieces extended to only one side, but Julian could see the elliptical outline of the metal chassis.

“I recognize this,” he said. “We’re you building an Endervar ship?”

It was among the structures inside the Elion’s hanger bay, the room containing the various technologies in development. A mess it had become, the floor littered with vine-like wires, piles of metal scraps and components ready to be assembled together or recycled into material matter.

“Yes, it’s a hybrid ship.” Arendi said, looking at fragments of the unfinished prototype. “It was meant to be a backup to the other vessel. The one that you had recovered.”

“You traveled the galaxy on it,” Julian said. “But this one doesn’t look quite ready.”

“No. It’s been abandoned. What remaining resources we possess have been allocated to other projects.”

She waved her hand to the surrounding activities, as a small group of spider-bots were hard at work. One-half of the hanger bay seemed devoted to salvage, the smell of shredded hull wafting in the air. The other was cleanly organized, the wires feeding into a set of different containers lined up against the walls.

Cell after cell had been planted into the floor, the glass tubes encasing the alien matter extracted from the Endervar gateway. Julian found not only exotic darkness held behind the chambers, but other elements too, the globs of transparent energy held in place by fields of static.

Bit by bit, the Elion had collected the enemy matter, building up the reserves for study, and eventual use.

“We could contain it, and even use some of it,” she explained. “This one in particular.”

Arendi pointed to the containment device, the pools of watery liquid bubbling up and down through the cylinder.   

“This is what Endervar ships are made out of?” he asked.

“Partially. It’s the only matter that the gateway generates, which can survive in our universe once fully formed,” she said. “It acts as a medium to direct their power, and contain it. With exceptionally large amounts of mass, a ship can house and exploit the enemy’s energy, to varying degrees.”

Julian inspected the container and tapped the glass. “It seems so harmless,” he said.

“If only,” she replied.

“But you could control it.” 

“No, not fully. It was more dangerous than we thought. We still don’t understand them.”

He turned around and saw Arendi looking off at the hollowed chassis of the incomplete ship.

“All we had were our theories, and the small-scale experiments,” she said. “Servetus feared our presence might one day alert the enemy. So we invested everything in what we thought might be our only chance.”

Julian nodded. It was an echo of what she had recounted before. Only now, he could see it first hand, the traces of that effort everywhere across the hanger bay floor. 

“The ship we created was small, but large enough to use the Endervar warping effect,” she went on. “It was made primarily to replicate their faster-than-light propulsion. But the ship was only equipped for several long-distance jumps.”

She approached a nearby container, and grabbed the object attached to the side. It was a simple welding torch, the device igniting with the press of a switch at its hilt. 

“The technology we had at our disposal... we were so limited.”

“But it was enough,” he added. “You did what you could.”

She held on to the device tight, the fire twisting into a flickering blue.

“The Endervars, they were tracking us,” she said. “Our prototype ship could pass through the anomaly unimpeded. But the moment we did, something changed.”

“You told me about that,” he said. “The matter became energized.”

“Not just energized. But almost like it was alive. It must have been calling out to them.”

She closed her eyes, not sure how to convey it. Arendi could feel the guilt. 

“I saw the files Julian. The main Endervar fleets must have been chasing us. The danger we brought...”

Arendi paused and sadly looked at the fire. It raged on, the flame like a dagger jutting forth.

“You did what you had to,” he said. “You didn’t know.”  

He came to her side, and grabbed her hand. Feeling his touch, she let go, the torch passing into his grasp.

“You wanted to show me something,” Julian said, shutting it off, and placing it back down.

Arendi stiffened, and focused. She led Julian off to the corner of the room, where the platform lay.

“Here,” she said. “This is how we will disrupt the Endervar shield.”

He looked at the floor, and saw the weapon casings. Altogether, there were five of them, each one stacked high and just shy of his own height. 

“Missiles?” he said.

“Yes, but redesigned with Alliance technology.”

She approached the nearest one, and began opening its base, unscrewing the plates of metal.

“The original missiles could only open a small breach into the Endervar shield. Just large enough to fit a ship,” she said. “But these. Although they haven’t been tested, they should work.”

Taking off the covering, Arendi pointed to the weapon’s modified payload. It carried a containment pod of Endervar particles, the opaque repository patched together from scratched old parts. Attached to the sides was the chrome packaging of a standard di-fusion reactor, along with other Alliance-developed gear.

“Servetus believes one missile alone will have more than enough power to completely nullify the shield,” Arendi said.

Julian knelt down, and touched the weapon’s exterior.

“Really?” he asked. “Just one missile?”

“Yes, but that’s not all,” she said. “Servetus believes this technology can be mass produced. With our resources, and the Alliance’s aid, it can be done.”