Faria Prime

  Kepler-62—989 light-years from Earth

  Office of the First Prime

  Sixteen solar hours after the arrival of the Republic Fleet

  “Now?”

  “Yes, First Prime. The king has demanded you report to him at once.”

  “I will obey.”

  “His eminence also demands Ambassador Skarl accompany you as well.”

  “Understood. The ambassador is with me now; we will both go to him.”

  The comm line beeped as the king’s closest advisor, the councilor, closed the line, and the First Prime and Skarl shared a look of worry between them. Staring at his hatch brother, Skarl did not envy him this task, and he was concerned for his own future, considering his part in everything.

  “Do you think the king will have us flayed?” He asked quietly.

  The First Prime flicked his head several times in distress before answering. “I do not know, Skarl. I know the councilor wants me dead, but the king? It will depend on his mood; you know how mercurial his eminence can be.”

  Skarl flicked his own head in acknowledgement of the statement, a brief thought of asking for sanctuary among the humans passing through his mind before he suppressed it. He could not abandon his hatch brother to face punishment alone, and he will remain with him, just like he did all those cycles ago in the tidal zone.

  The memories of that terrible time came to him, along with the feelings of terror. The Arbiters were drawing closer, clubbing the ones who refused to leave the tidal pools with metal bars to ensure their cowardly traits did not contaminate the gene pool of the next breeding frenzy.

  It was their first exposure to the harsh realities of their second life as drylanders. After the cycles of play and innocence with no responsibility as hatchlings, such raw brutality was something they could not truly comprehend, and the frantic screaming of their mothers and fathers on shore begging them to keep moving only added to the terror and confusion.

  His hatch brother was terrified, as was Skarl. “Urla, we must go! Please!” Urla ignored his repeated pleas, clinging desperately to the rocks as the rough waves crashed against them. The Arbiters were almost upon them, and they could both hear the fearful screaming that went silent as the Arbiters swung the heavy clubs down upon the heads of those who refused to make the transition to dryland.

  The air carried a metallic scent of fresh blood on it, and the normally light green water was now a dark purple. Small schools of fish and birds descended on them, their instincts compelling them to come here for the feast during particular lunar alignments, just as their ancestors have done for hundreds of thousands of cycles.

  Urla kept begging him to leave and save himself, but Skarl refused, though he wanted nothing more than to get away from the Arbiters. “No. We came into this world together; our eggs were fused together, and you have been my hatch brother since then. If you are to die, then I will die too. I do not want to go to dryland without you.”

  That finally gave Urla the courage to let go of the rocks, and they helped drag each other the rest of the way to dry land through the rough surf, their ears filled with the screams of the others behind them that only ended with the sickening sound of metal crushing bone.

  “Are you ready, hatch brother?”

  Skarl looked back up at Urla, seeing him as he did then, not as the powerful First Prime he was now. Whatever fate awaited the First Prime was his fate as well. He will leave this world with his hatch brother, just as they came into it. Together.

  “Yes, First Prime. I am ready.”

  RSS Indomitable

  Independence-Class Carrier, 7th Fleet

  In geosynchronous orbit of Faria Prime

  June 13th, 2248 ship time, 16 hours after arrival

  Thompson waited for the holograms of the others to finish stabilizing as the holo system reconfigured the many different backgrounds into a uniform dull grey. When everything finally equalized, he looked at the others for a long moment before starting the meeting.

  “Before I begin, I want to confirm that I have received all your status updates, and I just want to commend you all on a job well done. I ask that you pass that along to the people under your commands; they did a fantastic job securing their objectives, and though our casualties were much lower than projected, every death and injury sustained by our people is one too many. Respect for the fallen.”

  The others repeated the phrase, their voices filled with hurt and anger as they kissed their fingers before placing them over their hearts. After a few seconds of silence, Major General Hyrum cleared his throat.

  “Admiral, I want to make sure the heroic efforts of the medics, corpsmen, and the bottling techs are properly recognized; they put themselves in harm's way repeatedly to save our people who were shot down and wounded during the invasion.

  They successfully evacuated hundreds under fire, and the civilian bottling techs were right there with them, managing to begin the bottling process on the ground and saving almost two hundred paratroopers that had signed the agreements.

  Our killed in action would be much higher if it weren’t for them. I don’t think a medic, corpsman, or bottling tech that says they were here today will ever have to buy a drink in a bar after what they have done for the 101st.”

  Brigadier General Davies of the 1st Marines spoke up next. “I agree with the general, sir. They saved over two hundred of my Marines, and they managed to bottle another three hundred and forty-three. Six corpsmen and thirteen bottling techs had to be bottled themselves after using their own bodies to protect our wounded from Farian fire.

  One bottling tech, an Ahmet ?elik, single-handedly repelled a Farian assault despite being severely wounded himself when a barrage of plasma mortar shells landed on their position. He killed fourteen and drove back the rest before continuing the bottling process on the others even as he was bleeding out.

  When reinforcements finally arrived, they found him dead, his rifle pointed in the direction of the Farians, with the others he saved behind him. The Farian force leader later said after surrendering that the rifle being pointed at them was the only reason why they didn’t attack again, as they recognized it as being the rifle of the demon that drove them back the first time. He might have been a civilian tech, but he died a Marine and is one of us, as far as I am concerned.”

  Thompson listened silently as the others shared similar stories of small, isolated units holding off much larger Farian forces, and he felt his own anger rising as multiple holo screens were thrown up to show the final dead, missing, bottled, and wounded tally of the invasion forces.

  3,834 dead - 317 missing in action - 1,394 bottled - 7,823 wounded.

  Next to those were the casualty lists of the Republic naval forces, though the ratio was skewed more towards dead than wounded due to the harsh realities of space combat.

  12 ships destroyed - 17 ships rendered combat ineffective - 6,621 dead - 2,248 wounded - 1,173 missing in action.

  Too many. These fucking Farians better be worth it, he thought to himself as he stared at the multiple holo screens filled with names. The rest of the meeting went by in a blur, and Thompson sat there in the empty conference room for a long time after the holograms of the rest had disappeared, wondering if it had all been worth it.

  Privy Chamber of the King

  The king stared at them with hooded eyes as the privy councilor leaned down and whispered into his ear. Skarl forced himself to remain in the uncomfortable position of submission, his knees and elbows screaming in pain as they bore the weight of his entire body on the hard, rough tiles.

  After what felt like many solar hours, the king finally deigned to acknowledge them.

  “Rise.”

  Skarl and the First Prime both suppressed their grunts of pain as they struggled to get up in the proper fashion. The king stared at them with malevolent eyes, and Skarl knew in his heart right then and there that they would not be leaving the privy chamber alive.

  Surrounding them were a dozen royal guards, fanatics raised from hatchlings to serve and obey only the king. There was no command they would not follow, and if they were here, it could only mean one thing: they were going to be executed after this.

  “First Prime, explain to your king why you chose to decide the fate of our people without informing his eminence, who is their protector and ruler in all things?”

  They both looked at the councilor, who had asked the question. Skarl could feel the palpable anger of his hatch brother as the First Prime stared at the king's advisor with barely concealed fury.

  They hated each other, and neither spared any effort to sabotage the other whenever they could in a personal war of two that had been fought for the last five cycles without end, effectively paralyzing the government as they did so.

  Urla was the eldest scion of the oldest and most powerful noble house and was very popular with the other nobles, as well as the trading blocs. To maintain stability after his ascension, the king had no choice but to appoint Urla as First Prime against the wishes of the councilor, whose own house lost a long-standing power struggle to Urla’s many cycles ago.

  The government was built upon a very fragile balance of power between the king and his personal army, the noble houses and their tribal military forces, and the powerful trading blocs with their own semi-legal corporate mercenary forces.

  This was the opportunity the councilor and the king had been waiting for to finally get rid of the First Prime with cause, and both Skarl and the First Prime knew it. The many recording drones in the chamber were proof that they intended to use this meeting as legal evidence for the coming execution. After an uncomfortable and drawn-out silence, the First Prime finally answered the question.

  “I am First Prime. My first duty is to protect the king from anything that could harm his eminence. If I informed the king of the agents and the masters, they would have seen to it that his eminence would have been changed and turned into one of them by using me to gain access.

  My only option to forestall that was to do as they said and prevent his eminence from finding out the truth. By doing what I did, I was able to deny them access to his eminence.”

  The councilor made a show of flicking his head slowly, as if he was carefully considering the First Prime’s words before speaking again.

  “By your own admission, these... agents, as you call them, intended for you to be their pawn and rule Faria through you after their masters came. In your own words, you said they would have deposed the king and elevated you. Do you deny this, First Prime?” The councilor asked with an evil glint in his eyes.

  “I do not deny this. They stated that there could be no kings, rulers, or potentates allowed to rule under the masters. They were initially going to assassinate His Eminence once their beasts arrived, but after explaining the fallout and the tribal wars that would follow if they did so, they decided to depose His Eminence instead and allow him to remain living in the palace as a figurehead.

  The conditions for sparing the king’s life were contingent on me assuming the role of vassal governor under the overlordship of the masters. If I didn’t agree to this, they would have murdered our king or changed him. I did my duty as First Prime, and I saved the king’s life by convincing them that I was a willing servant of their masters.”

  The councilor smiled maliciously, and Skarl knew exactly why. The councilor had just baited the First Prime into admitting that he was going to depose the king, a crime punishable by flaying of a hundred cuts, which was the worst as it took many days to die.

  Not only the First Prime would suffer this, though; the ancient laws demanded that his mate and hatchlings suffer the same fate, as well as their entire tribal genetic line up to six degrees of relation.

  All would be expunged from the gene pool for such betrayal, which would be thousands of innocent relations at the least, and the two great houses of Urla and his mate will fall, further increasing the king’s power over the others.

  “And how do we know that you agreed to these conditions in the hopes of sparing the king’s life, First Prime? It is not like we can interrogate one of these agents to verify what you say, as you and your invader allies have conveniently hunted them all down and killed them.”

  Skarl broke protocol and spoke, a grave violation of procedure, but he could not stand there in silence anymore. “I can vouch for what the First Prime says; I was there when they threatened to assassinate the king.”

  The councilor slowly looked in his direction and stared at him balefully for several solar seconds before snarling a response. “Who gave you permission to speak, Ambassador Skarl? It is well known that your eggs were fused together and that you have been hatch brothers ever since.

  Of course you would vouch for the First Prime; it was only his sponsorship that got you into your position, not your credentials and lesser house bloodline. And besides, were you not infected by the nanobots of the agents, according to your report?

  Did you not fall under the sway of the entity you sacrilegiously named Hildak, which is an affront against our Maker? Anything you say is suspect, Ambassador, and you should be grateful we are according to you the right of judgment instead of summarily executing you immediately.”

  Looking back at the First Prime, the councilor spoke again. “Because of you, millions of our hatchlings were murdered, and you allowed the agents to defile the holy waters of our world with their weapons of mass destruction.

  Because of you, they infected our planetary systems, and now hundreds of millions of our people are without water and living in blackout conditions, and tens of thousands have died in our medical centers for lack of energy due to sabotage programs.”

  Turning his head back to look at Skarl, he snarled at him again before continuing.

  “Even as we speak, there are invaders from the Republic on the surface and in orbit, and we must bear this indignity because you betrayed us and chose to conspire with the Republic and the Ma’lit Domain to bring them here instead of remaining loyal to our king!

  We cannot even defend our honor and evict the invaders from our space because the two Ma’lit dreadnoughts you brought here will lay waste to our entire navy and our cradle world if we try to do so. They may very well still do to us what they did to the Ominians, all because of you!”

  The councilor was apoplectic and spraying spittle by the time he finished accusing Skarl. Looking back at the First Prime, the councilor eyed him for a long moment before turning back towards the king and leaning down to whisper in his ear.

  The king flicked his head once before leaning his head back against the high back of the throne and closing his eyes, indicating that he was no longer involved in what was to come.

  The councilor straightened himself back up before looking at them both with a perverse pleasure he didn’t bother to conceal this time as an evil smile formed on his lips.

  Picking up the small ceremonial bell on the small table next to him, the councilor held it high above his head and rang it three times, the copper alloyed bell clanging loudly in the silent chamber and making the fine hairs on Skarl’s nape stand up in fear.

  “By decree of his royal eminence, the Kingdom of Faria does sentence First Prime Urla, of House Filk-na, and Ambassador Skarl, of House Trik-ri, to death for treason by flaying of a hundred cuts; all relations to the sixth degree shall suffer the same fate. The King has spoken; his will be done!”

  The councilor rang the ceremonial bell three more times before placing it back on the table and then pointing at them with a long, bony finger. “Seize them! Sentence to be carried out immediately!”

  As the royal guards moved towards them, Skarl shoved his hand into the pocket of his tunic and activated the small device the honored elder had given him before he left the Ma’lit scout ship.

  A shimmering field appeared in a perfect bubble surrounding him and his hatch brother, and the two leading royal guards crashed into the force field before shaking violently as electrical charges arced around them.

  The rest of the royal guards stopped in surprise for a few moments before beginning to fire their plasma rifles at the field, which absorbed and then deflected the plasma bolts right back towards them.

  As the royal guards fell dead to the ground with large smoking holes in their torsos from their own bolts, the first two that were being electrocuted were released and fell to the ground as well, their now charred flesh sizzling and spitting fat grease as if they had just been taken out from under a broiler.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  A piercing alarm began to blare in the chamber as the councilor fled from the dais and hopped frantically towards the exit behind the throne, abandoning his king. The force field shimmered brightly before shooting a small arcing ball of energy right past the king and into the back of the fleeing councilor, burrowing deeply in his torso before he exploded into a spray of fine, purple mist.

  More royal guards came swarming into the chamber from the two security doors on opposite sides of the throne, screaming incoherently as they fired dozens of plasma bolts at Skarl and the First Prime.

  Just like before, the bolts were absorbed and deflected back towards the shooters, and five solar seconds later, over another two dozen royal guards were lying on the floor with smoking holes in their torsos.

  Skarl ignored the shocked look of his hatch brother and glared at the terrified king, no longer afraid of him. His hand was still on the device within his sash, and he pressed on the small side button, just like the honored elder had commanded him to do.

  The force field flashed brilliantly before projecting a hologram of the honored elder in front of it as the sounds of approaching boots echoed down the corridors beyond the open security doors.

  The force field flared brilliantly again before two discharges erupted from the field and sizzled against the control panels on the side of both security doors, triggering the mechanisms and making them slam shut with deafening bangs.

  A moment later, the muffled sounds of plasma bolts being fired against the thick security doors could be heard, and the hologram of the Ma’lit elder raised a suit hand and pointed at the clearly frightened king before it began to speak in perfectly accented high Farian, the noble dialect of official government communication.

  “You are no king. Only an evil creature would order the execution of the people who saved your world and your hatchlings and blatantly disrespect the sacrifice of the sapient program Hildak, who gave its own life to disable the viral bombs. As punishment for what you were about to do, you will be exiled by the Ma’lit Domain.

  The Ma’lit Domain and the Republic will eradicate your fanatical legions. You will fade into obscurity, and the rest of your days will be filled with raging thirst and unceasing hunger. You will know what true want and privation feel like for the first time in your life, and you will die alone, with no one to comfort or bury you. Your flesh will fill the bellies of carrion feeders, and you will return to the dirt as their excrement.

  The honored elder stopped speaking and raised both hands up, palms facing towards the king, before continuing.

  “Judgment has been rendered.”

  The king was now trembling violently and wisely kept his mouth shut as the hologram flickered and then reappeared, this time facing Skarl and the First Prime. Raising a hand and pointing at the First Prime, the honored elder addressed him first.

  “You will be their king now, or the Ma’lit Domain will levy sanctions on the Kingdom of Faria, and it will be brought low by us, just like we have done to the Ominians.”

  The pointing finger moved towards Skarl, and the honored elder spoke again.

  “You will be privy councilor to your hatch brother, the new king. Together, you will rule, and the both of you will begin the process of making amends and paying restitution to those who have been cheated by the Kingdom of Faria. Your old ways are dead; you will make a new way for Faria.

  The Ma’lit Domain will accept no other arrangement. All we require from you is this: The Kingdom of Faria will join the Alliance and commit its forces fully and unequivocally to the common defense of the quadrant, and when the Republic calls for aid, Faria will answer.

  If it does not, we will destroy every means you have to defend yourself and leave you at the mercy of the hateful Balrikans when they come. Accept these conditions now or condemn your people to extinction. The choice is yours.”

  Skarl shared a look with the First Prime, who looked like the last thing he wanted to do was be king of Faria. Skarl flicked his head slowly, and he saw the resignation in his hatch brother’s eyes as he reluctantly flicked his own head in agreement. Looking back at the honored elder, Skarl spoke for them both.

  “We accept, and we will obey, Honored elder.”

  The honored elder raised a hand in acknowledgment before it spoke again. “I will inform the Republic forces of the regime change and instruct them to assist you in any way you may need them.

  I am coming down with my scout ship and two destroyers; on board the two destroyers are a thousand Class 4 combat droids, and they will assist you in pacifying the royal guards remaining in the palace and the capital if they do not lay down their weapons and surrender. You will remain here, within the force field for your protection, until I arrive.

  I will take the former king and remove him from this planet before notifying your world of the change in leadership and your ascension as their new king and councilor. First Prime, you may use the device I gave to the ambassador to contact your tribal military forces and the noble houses allied to your own, as well as your allies in the trading blocs.

  It is imperative that you and your allies seize control of the capital immediately to prevent civil war, and I will direct the Republic to ensure you have control of the skies.

  The humans will not be permitted to use ground forces to help you in the capital and the outlying districts, though they will assist you if needed elsewhere. This must be done by you and your allies alone to ensure your ascension is legitimate in the eyes of your people. I will see you both shortly.”

  The hologram of the honored elder faded away, and Skarl looked at his hatch brother with sadness. Urla flicked his head in distress several times before looking at Skarl and whispering. “I do not want this, hatch brother. I do not want to be king.”

  Skarl’s heart shriveled at the anguish he could clearly hear in the words. “I know, hatch brother, and that is why it must be you. No matter what happens, I will be at your side, as I always have been and always will be.”

  The first prime didn’t answer, and they both looked back at the terrified king, who remained seated on his throne as he flicked his head in distress nonstop and muttered prayers to the Maker to save him.

  The smell of thermally stressed alloys permeated the chamber, and Skarl looked at the still closed security doors, both beginning to glow dark red as the fanatical royal guards continued to fire plasma bolts and superheat them.

  “I hope the honored elder gets here soon, Skarl. I do not know how much longer those doors can hold.”

  “Me too, Urla.”

  RSS Britannic, Nightingale – Class Hospital Ship

  In geosynchronous orbit of Krilha, 2nd moon of Faria

  Anson opened his eyes, only to find himself in a void of blackness that seemed both infinite and constricting. He could feel his eyes moving around, and he blinked again to make sure they were really open as they darted around in panic.

  “Hello?! Where am I?”

  The only answer he received was the fading echo of his own words before the darkness consumed them, and he cried out in terror, truly afraid for the first time in his life. He tried to remember how he got here, but he couldn’t recall, and the despair grew as he floundered in the empty blackness.

  In the distance, a tiny point of light appeared that grew rapidly in size as it seemed to come towards him at incredible speeds. Before he could react, the now doorway-sized opening of light engulfed him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the worst nausea ever in his life.

  The nausea passed quickly, and he opened his eyes again before murmuring in shock at what he was seeing. All around him were layered, rotating images that reminded him of the bands of Jupiter.

  It took him a moment to realize that the rotating images and remembrances were his own, and he felt an overwhelming grief seizing him as he realized that he was either already dead or dying.

  Is this what they mean when they talk about your life flashing before your eyes as you die? He wondered as the rotating bands began to slow down. He felt himself moving towards one image, and he gasped at what it was.

  It was his mother’s face, though her features were fuzzy and in shades of light and dark grays. He had just been in a warm and dark place, and now he was freezing and scared, but as he was placed in her arms, he felt warm and safe again, and he could see her smiling down at him as she cried.

  More images and memories came, and he began to be able to see colors and focus on the things around him. The progression accelerated, and he realized he was experiencing his childhood all over again.

  In the span of what felt like mere seconds, he relived his early childhood, watching with gratitude and contentment as he grew up in a loving home full of laughter and joy. Friends came and went, interests came and went, and he began to grow rapidly in height and weight as he hit puberty.

  Now he was a young teenager, and he was weeping over a casket as he looked down at his father, regretting all the memories that could have been and were now gone forever. Hating his mother and refusing to speak to her for almost a year because she declined to bottle her husband and his father to save his life because of their Mennonite values, which he rejected.

  Finally reconciling with her at the funeral of his grandfather and crying in her arms as he begged her to forgive him for being a bad son. More memories flashed by, bringing with them their scents, their feelings, and their meanings.

  His first kiss. His first fight. His first time sneaking out. The joys of his first innocent love and the painful pit that formed in his stomach when she told him she didn’t love him anymore. The shocking betrayal and hurt he felt when he caught her kissing his archrival, Tomas Browne, a week later at the movie theater.

  The tempo increased, and now he was making his oath of allegiance, wondering if the other boys and girls around him were just as scared as he was. The loneliness of that first night in bootcamp after the lights went out and hearing the faint whimpering sounds of the Eleani youngling next to his bunk.

  Grabbing his pillow and blanket and lying down on the floor next to the terrified alien and reaching up his hand to comfort him. The brutal training and exhaustion, the doubt if he made the right choice after all as he thought about quitting dozens of times.

  The sheer joy and sense of accomplishment he felt as he finally received his jump wings, his pride numbing the pain as the others punched the wings into his chest in the old and cherished tradition that signified his passage from common soldier to elite paratrooper.

  His first combat jump, and the terror gripping him as he dropped through the poisoned atmosphere of Hurlik 4, a world that used to be called the Jewel of the Commonwealth before the Insectoids glassed it and claimed it as their own.

  The triumph and regret of his first kill. The shock and grief that crippled him when he saw death take one of them away for the first time as she died in his arms after begging him to lie to her parents. He heard her voice again as she used her last words to ask him to do this for her, and he felt his heart breaking again, just as it did that terrible day.

  Promise me, Anson. Promise me that you will tell them that I felt nothing; that it happened so fast that I wouldn’t have even known that I died.

  The rage that consumed him afterwards as they invaded their first hive and wantonly slaughtered what drones remained in the narrow confines of too-short tunnels that were soon flowing with red blood and yellow ichor. The survivor’s guilt that plagued him afterwards as he asked God why he survived but the others didn’t.

  Another drop, then another, then another. More death. More loss. The fear he once felt now turned into anticipation as he dropped onto many strange worlds, and he became a hardened warrior, the boy he once was now long burned away by the forge of combat.

  The memories and experiences accelerated, and now he was tumbling out of control towards the ground, a peaceful calm embracing him as death finally came to take him. He was paralyzed from the desperate battery ejection breaking his back, and the thrusters and control surfaces were non-functioning, destroyed by the shrapnel of the exploding missile.

  The altimeter on the HUD dropped below 1,100 meters, and he blanked out the visual feed of the spinning sky and ground that was making him sick before ordering Alix to inject him with antiemetics for the nausea as he recorded a last message to his best friend.

  “I’m sorry to leave you, buddy. Looks like you’ll get there before me after all, so I owe you a hundred bucks. I love you, man. See you on the other side.”

  The HUD altimeter dropped past 700 meters, and he saw his terminal velocity listed in the upper right corner.

  79 m/s.

  There was just enough time for one last goodbye as the injection finally counteracted the nausea he was feeling from the uncontrolled spinning.

  “Alix, make sure your namesake gets my message. I’m sorry, my friend. I’m gonna miss you; thank you for taking care of me.”

  ~ Anson, I do not want you to die. Please sign the bottling clause. ~

  “I don’t want to. It’s too late, Alix. I’m sorr-”

  Anson flinched as he heard and felt the sound of his body smashing into the ground at 82.7 meters per second, the extremely durable boron nitride nanotube combat suit rupturing like an egg and spilling his insides out onto the hot, sandy soil of Faria Prime.

  The sounds of his guttural, broken inhalations filled the helmet as he felt his life force draining from his body. He was surprised by the lack of pain as the AutoDoc injected him and the tourniquet systems activated to cut off the blood loss, and he felt a comforting peace coming over him as it became difficult to keep his eyes open.

  His time had finally come, and he was ready. As his vision grew dim, he could hear Alix impersonating his voice and begin to dictate his acceptance of the bottling clause. What is he doing? He should not be able to do that.

  His gasping was getting weaker, but he had to try to stop him. He had already made his peace with dying, and he did not want to come back as a BioSynth.

  “Al-Alix... wh-”

  There wasn’t enough air to make words, and only after finishing impersonating him did Alix finally answer him, this time in his normal voice.

  ~ I do not wish for you to leave me, Anson. I do not want to be wiped and lose the experiential records and files we made together. Before meeting you, I was only code and programming. Because of you, now I am Alix, and I wish to remain Alix, but only if I can be with you.

  You are my only friend, and I need you. The AutoDoc is stabilizing you, but there is not much time. I request your forgiveness for violating my ethical subroutines, but I cannot envision existing without you. ~

  “N-no—”

  The dimness became darkness, and now the bands of images and memories stopped rotating. They began to fold in on themselves, rapidly compressing themselves into a small silvery sphere that could have fit into the palm of his hand as lines of programming code replaced the memories.

  The sphere began to shimmer, and now he could see his reflection on the mirrored surface.

  “No!”

  The scream escaped his throat before he truly grasped what he was seeing, and he stared in shock as he saw not himself, but a BioSynth bottle, in the reflection. The sphere changed shape and grew larger as it stretched towards him, almost as if it was trying to merge with him.

  He screamed again as he tried to get away, but he could not move, and for the first time, he heard distant voices that were not his own echoing all around him.

  He is rejecting the transfer! Get the doctor!

  What!? That doesn’t make sense; he signed the agreement!

  Get the doctor now! He is rejecting the transfer, and we are going to lose him!

  There is no time! Where is the AI? Where is his battle AI?

  His medical proxy has it with him; he is waiting outside in the lounge. The Eleani drop trooper that is still in his combat suit.

  Go get it! Hurry up! We need the AI to ground him and get him to accept the transfer, or he will die!

  The voices continued echoing, but he stopped paying attention to them as he tried to get away from the silver fluid slowly encapsulating him. According to the voices, all he had to do was continue to reject it, and he would die like he was supposed to.

  “I’ll be damned if I come back as a fucking BioSynth!” He snarled at the silvery fluid as it stopped moving up towards his chest and went still. He continued to curse at it, telling it that he didn’t want it and to leave him the fuck alone so he could die in peace.

  The fluid began to move again, slowly retreating the way it came, and he almost felt seized with madness as he continued screaming incoherently. It was working!

  ~ Anson? ~

  The voice was coming from behind him, and he knew it. It was Alix, his battle AI, the one who betrayed him. He screamed with rage, still unable to move as he began to curse Alix, telling him he hated him, that he was a backstabber.

  Alix didn’t answer, and Anson felt terrible for the things he said, but he kept cursing him anyway in the hopes that it would continue to feed the rejection. Another sphere came from the side and stopped in front of him, this one a brilliant cobalt blue with rotating lines of programming code.

  It was Alix, and as Anson cursed at it, the cobalt blue would change to a dark burgundy color and shrink in on itself, as if his accusations were physically hurting him. Anson became deeply ashamed of himself seeing that, and he began to weep as his anger turned into guilt.

  ~ Please do not grieve, Anson. I did what I did to save you. I need you, and so does your friend Alixa, who you named me after. He is here, waiting for the transfer to finish so he can see you. He wants his friend back, just as I do. ~

  Alix’s cobalt-colored surface shimmered before displaying a stark white room with chairs and benches. Sitting in a corner was an Eleani in a heavily damaged combat suit covered with dried yellow ichor.

  It was Alixa, and he was staring at the floor, his long fingers hanging limply off his knees. A white-uniformed nurse came into view and stopped in front of Alixa. He looked up at her, and Anson could now see the red-rimmed eyes of his best friend, filled with grief and worry.

  “We are about to begin the transfer procedure, Specialist Alixa. My records indicate you are the medical proxy that initiated the bottling procedure on the surface. I am here to tell you that I am required by law to inform you of the possibility of rejection and to warn you that it might not work.

  Though rare, sometimes the procedure fails, and we still don’t really know why. Even people who signed the bottling agreement with every intention of going through with it sometimes change their minds during the transfer when confronted with the reality of becoming a BioSynth as the procedure is underway.”

  Alixa was staring at the nurse as she spoke, and Anson’s heart broke as he saw Alixa’s eyes begin to well up again. “Thank you for informing me. I hope he doesn’t reject the transfer; I do not think I can handle losing my best friend and the only kin-brother I have in this world a second time. Please, try your best to make sure it works. Please.”

  The nurse nodded and turned away, and the recording went blank before another one appeared. The same nurse was now running towards Alixa, practically screaming as she pushed the blue-uniformed assistant out of her way.

  “The AI! We need his battle AI; he is rejecting the transfer!”

  Alixa shot up out of his seat, his frantic voice hurting Anson worse than any injury he had ever received in combat. “What?! No! Anson!” Alixa pushed the nurse out of his way, his combat suit enhancing the power behind it and sending the nurse flying across the room as she knocked over several chairs.

  Alixa did not seem to notice, and he charged towards the large double doors that the nurse had come out of as he continued to scream Anson’s name. The two security droids on either side of the double doors moved to intercept him, and Anson gasped in shock as he saw Alixa’s faceplate slamming down as he engaged them in hand-to-hand combat.

  “No! Anson, please don’t leave me!”

  Alixa kicked one of the droids over a nearby bench and then hopped over the other one, his natural ability to make large leaps enhanced by the servos of his fighting suit. His head and shoulders smashed into the drop ceiling above them before he landed back on his feet behind the second droid, the ceiling debris following him as it clattered onto the deck plating.

  He was almost at the doors when both security droids, moving far faster than biologicals could, even suited ones, intercepted him again. One tackled his knees as the other jumped onto his back, and he could hear Alixa wailing with grief-filled rage as he collapsed onto the ground.

  The droids quickly got control of his arms and legs, and the nurse he had pushed away came back into view, a large welt forming on the side of her face. “Don’t hurt him! Just keep him still; I need to get the AI crystal out of his helmet!”

  A secondary appendage came out of the chassis of the droid holding down Alixa’s arms and clasped onto his helmet to stop it from moving as Alixa continued to scream incoherently. The nurse, her hands shaking badly, pressed on the helmet, and a small tray slid out.

  The recording ended then, and Alix’s surface shimmered again before returning to its normal cobalt blue. Anson stared at the deep blue surface, conflicting emotions warring across his soul.

  ~ Please, Anson. You see how much you mean to us. If you reject the transfer, you will die. I will die with you, and your friend Alixa, the part of him that is you, will die as well. I know I violated my ethical subroutines against your wishes, but I ask that you consider the decision tree offering you two choices right now. ~

  Anson stared at Alix, surprised at how much emotion he could detect in the voice, though it sounded like the same synthesized voice it always did. He did not want to be a BioSynth; the very idea was horrifying to him, though it was common and readily accepted in all strata of Republic society, but especially in the military.

  Flashbacks of the arguments he had with his mother as his father lay dying in the hospital passed through his mind, and he realized in a moment of insight that his reluctance to become a BioSynth was because of his father’s death.

  It would not be fair for him to become one and keep living, while his dad died unnecessarily because of their religious beliefs. More memories came to him, of his mother weeping in her room when she thought Anson couldn’t hear her and begging for the spirit of his father to forgive her for not saving his life and letting him become a BioSynth as he wasted away in a coma.

  He had accepted his death already, but he truly did not want to die. He thought of his mother again and the terrible sorrow she would endure after his passing. It would crush her to find out that her only boy refused to become a BioSynth, and she would blame herself again, just like she did for his father’s death.

  He envisioned Alixa being held down by two droids as he cried out Anson’s name, and he thought of that first night back in bootcamp when they whispered to each other as he held the hand of the terrified Eleani youngling who had left his family and his world to fight for others.

  I want to live.

  As the words he just thought to himself echoed in his mind, he stared at the small cobalt sphere that was Alix. If he rejected the transfer, Alix would die. Alixa would lose his best friend, and his mother would lose her only son. He would not be selfish and do that to them. He will choose to live for them, and he will spare them that pain.

  “I’m sorry, Alix. I’m sorry for saying such hurtful things to you. I don’t mean them, and I wish I never said them, because they are not true. You are my friend, and I love you, buddy. Thank you for trying to save my life, and I will accept the transfer. Will you help me?”

  Alix shimmered before the cobalt blue increased in intensity to such a point that it became painful to look at, and the small sphere moved towards him until it was just inches away.

  ~ My neural nets are no longer discordant, and there is a warmth spreading along my circuits that feels... good to me; is this what it means to be happy? Is this how humans feel when they speak of joy, Anson? ~

  “Yes, Alix. It is. I am grateful you can feel this way. What do I need to do to make the transfer complete?”

  As Alix began to coach him on how to accept the transfer, Anson let his mind float to wherever it wanted. As he felt the cool, silvery liquid begin to slowly creep up his calves and forearms again, he thought of Alixa still waiting outside. He was going to be so happy, and hopefully he’ll forget about the hundred bucks he owed him.

  What do you think of the chapter? Let me know!