The intel gathering hut connected to the main building of the bar by a subterranean tunnel. It was a fairly long walk and a solitary one, reeking of dampness and stale air. Aside from the bitheads of the group, of which Mirage was the leading member, very few people bothered to make the journey. This was just fine for Mirage, who plied his trade across the subspace frequency threads that made up the communications weave that bound civilizations, human and alien, together. Back at the bar, he was the lovable eccentric. Here however, he was God Almighty, though he was not so much the atheist that he ever gave voice to that particular outlook.
The vid-wall before him teemed with digital life in all its myriad forms. Newsfeeds rubbed elbows with hexadecimal decryption reports, which, in turn, bumped against audio feedback graphs. Through it all, Mirage’s eyes darted to and fro scanning AI process reports and looking for visual patterns in the raw data itself, while his head gently bobbed to the latest soundscapes from groups like Orbital Fission and Moonglow.
Life was good. At least, the life he knew and immersed himself in.
Budo entered the room just then, walked past Mirage and powered up the second of the three vid-walls. Sitting in her chair in such close proximity suddenly made Mirage uncomfortable. She paid little attention to him as she began her research on Mentath mythology.
Mirage, of course, was familiar with the specs of the Budo-class robots. When she’d made her first appearance at the bar, he did some research to determine how much of a threat she posed and whether she had some beneficial attributes that would prove helpful. Based on his initial impressions, her reserved nature and modest, almost severe, way of dressing, he was surprised by what he found.
He shared that information with Feld, of course. In the quieter moments at the bar, when the women were elsewhere, they’d often discuss her probable history and past employment, laced with many a baudy hypothesis. Even with her suspected Safeguard Protocols in place, however, none of them dared broach the subject with her. After all, there was no guarantee that the Protocols were still active. If Budo did not act as her kin did, for whatever reason, then who’s to say that the required software protections were still installed and operational. Throughout her time at Barscape Prime, she certainly acted as if they were active. Now, though, with Sondra’s confirmation of her origins and Budo’s interesting reaction, Mirage’s mind got to thinking about Budo’s past. Was she a bordello unit? And, if so, what changed?
Feld, with his knowledge of androids and other tech, was the one who became responsible for her maintenance. When alone with the other bitheads, though, he remained oddly discreet when it came to details of her systems. Only once, after he’d had his fill of absinthe, did he remark that she was certainly built for it. The implications of what he said were certainly clear. He wondered how it…
“Is something troubling you, Mirage?”
He almost jumped out of his skin. “Erm… no, nothing.” He coughed nervously. “I, uh, was thinking about Feld. How’s he doing?”
Budo smiled. “The worst seems to be over. His ribs and lungs are healing nicely and the infections are dying down. His fever also seems to be under control. It looks like he’ll pull through, but it’ll be quite a while until he’s back to his old self.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
Budo and Mirage returned to their work.
A few moments later, Budo broke the silence again. “Mirage, I need to ask a favor of you.”
He muted the soundscape and turned to Budo, “Yeah? What kind of favor?”
Budo paused as her logic algorithms accelerated. “I am in need of a diagnostic series. Since Feld is unavailable, I may need you to take his place. Would this be possible?”
Mirage swallowed hard. “Well, Budo, you know that robotics is not my specialty. Can’t it wait?”
Budo gave the matter serious thought again. Was it urgent? Her background telemetry search for the Zontra Pearls star cluster had encountered a locked region of her memories. She’d already spent hours trying to release the locks through a variety of self-diagnostic and decryption processes with no luck. It bothered her on some pseudo-emotional level that the locks were there, that she hadn’t known about them and that it was the Zontra Pearls telemetry search that located them. She felt…. slightly ill at the implication.
“No,” Budo replied. “I’m afraid it cannot. With the recent troubles brewing, I want to be at my best.” Budo paused and read the look on Mirage’s face. “Don’t worry,” she soothed, “I’ll be awake for all of it. I can even talk you through it, if need be.”
Mirage gulped involuntarily. “Sure,” he managed to stammer. “I’d be glad to help.”
Budo frowned suddenly and looked past Mirage to his vid-wall. “That’s not a good sign.”
~/~
Mirage’s synthesized voice urgently called out from the main speakers. “Lippy? Set the vidscreens to channel 7. Lippy?”
CJ answered. “Lippy’s not here. She had some urgent business to take care of. What’s happening?”
“I can do it,” Bern replied. She gingerly stepped behind the bar and found the main console. Instead of the usual vidscreens, Bern used the holograph projector to float an oversized virtual vidscreen. She then routed channel 7’s signal to it. Everyone there moved to the bar to get a better view.
Mirage explained, “The Protean planetary defense forces have begun an assault on Dinara City. Since they can’t break through the defense shield from space, they’re using their terrestrial forces to get in underneath.”
“This is going to get ugly,” Kat commented over her cocktail. Cel nodded in agreement while, behind them, Bern blinked back moistening eyes.
In the background, running footsteps introduced Lippy, who had returned from the basement. She nodded in response to CJ’s questioning gaze. “What happened?” she asked the rest of the group.
“The Proteans are mounting a full-on assault against the city,” Kat explained quietly.
Soon after Kat’s observation, Ebony and Sondra walked into the bar. Ebony was talking quietly while Sondra listened and gazed back at Ebony with awestruck eyes. As they approached the rest of the ‘Scapers, Ebony gently touched Sondra’s shoulder and asked them, “Is something wrong?”
CJ answered, “The Proteans are attacking Dinara.” After a pause, “Hey Mirage! Is this a live or a stored newsfeed?”
“It’s stored,” came the reply. “Let me see if I can get more up to date information.”
“It doesn’t matter,” came Ebony’s sad observation. “Dinara’s gone. Proteus-VI is dying. The Scythe swings where it wills.”
Everyone stopped and stared at her as Mirage’s voice drily cut in. “Dear God,” was all he managed to say.
The vidscreen now showed a live orbital feed over Proteus-VI. The camera’s lenses were pointing straight down through clear skies. Dead center of the image was an evergrowing circle of black desolation. The panicked narrator was trying to explain that the darkness was a negative energy field composed of a dark matter transformation, an impossibility according to current scientific theory. All the planetary forces that had been attacking Dinara City had been enveloped by the field and no communications had been received from them since the attack began. Worse, the orbiting starships’ sensor arrays were reporting an absence of life within the field. It was feared that upwards of three million people within the expanding field were dead. The rest of Proteus-VI was in a state of panic. Civilization had ceased to exist and starships great and small were evacuating whatever and whenever they could. The feed then switched to various scenes of rioting, looting and wholesale destruction in the other cities of Proteus-VI.
When Mirage killed the feed, everyone in the bar was quiet, except for Bern and Sondra who were sobbing quietly. Lippy put her arm around her friend to console her as Sondra lamented, “I saw it. I saw it all.”
Ebony turned to her and gave her a comforting hug, saying quietly, “I know, dear. I know. It is the price we pay for our gifts.”
“Is she… Is Solara…” Lippy couldn’t bring herself to finish the question.
Sondra released herself from Ebony’s hug and tearfully said, “No. I don’t know where or what she is, but she’s not dead. She could still be in the center of that… thing or she could have left. I don’t know. What I do know is that what happened on Proteus-VI will probably happen on other worlds. I’ve seen that, too.”
For a while, all remain fixed by the silent awe that enveloped them. Bern was the first to break the spell. “I’m going to my room. It’s late and there’s nothing we can do right now.” After giving Lippy a gentle squeeze on her arm, she turned and headed for the door.
“Yes. I think you’re right, Bern. We should all probably get some sleep,” CJ agreed.
Mirage replied, “I’m going to stay up a bit and see if I can get any more information from Proteus-VI.”
“Ok,” Lippy said. “Just don’t stay up too late, luv. You need your sleep, too.”
With that, everyone in the main bar finished their drinks and retreated quietly to their chambers. Only Mirage and Budo in the intel hut stayed alert and continued working.
~/~
When Bern closed the door to her quarters, she ran to her bed and knelt on the floor beside it, with her hands clasped together, sobbing. “Oh Dear Father, what have we done?” she cried aloud.
For not the first time since joining this troupe, her spirit was troubled. A devout pacifist, she, once again, saw the seemingly irreparable harm that one of her compatriots had caused. This was not her way. What was she doing here?
‘Thou shalt not kill.’ And she hadn’t. Ever. At least not directly. As an expert pilot/navigator, she had assisted the other ‘Scapers in the past on their various missions. However, she often did so knowing the violence that her friends would mete on whatever foe lay within their grasp. In the past, she’d been able to rationalize her abetment of their activities by weighing them against the alternative, which was usually far, far worse.
But this? The Feldmarschal and Solara were directly responsible for the deaths of millions. How could this crime be forgiven? Was it possible? Could one forgive the unforgivable? And how many more will die before all this was over?
And how many by my own hand, she grieved. Already, she’d asked Lippy to help train her with a blaster. For defensive purposes, she’d responded to Lippy’s raised eyebrow, but who could predict what the future would throw her way? And, if presented with the opportunity to engage in violence, even to help her friends, would she make the right decision?
“Oh Dear Father,” she prayed, “please guide me. The path grows dark and I’m afraid of getting lost.”