Megalodon City, Tundra, Standard Year 403 after founding

  Rather than heading back to his office following his conversation with James Hawk, Robert headed home. He made it a point to avoid unnecessary risks. The information he held now needed to be communicated immediately, and he was a dead man walking. His continued existence was always in doubt. Walking off the elevator of his building, he breathed a quiet sigh of satisfaction as he walked onto a small wood bridge over a stream of Tundran oceanwater that was pumped all the way to the top of his 60 story building and into his private garden. The human colony on Tundra was still in the very early stages of development. They did not have the resources or the technology to sustain free standing, individual homes. The humans lived on top of each other in hulking structures of stone and steel reaching out into the sky. For most of the Tundran year, access to plants was limited to the indoors. As the colony became more established, the newer housing accounted for some of that need by providing indoor garden space. The stream of ocean water, teeming with life, provided the added benefit of an entirely sustainable food source. He paused briefly at the top of the wooden bridge, looking down into the water. An odd, almost chameleon like water snake shimmered across the water, its markings blending in so perfectly, if his eyesight wasn’t perfectly calibrated to spot other chameleons, he would not have seen it.

  After ensuring his space was securely locked and running an added precautionary scan for any listening or monitoring devices, Robert stretched out on a lounger in the garden, turning the sunlamps intended for the plants to their fullest power and soaking up the rays as he pulled out his private communication device. It was quite late on Saraya, but Daren tended to stay up late and on this channel, he would find a way to take the call. Robert waited patiently.

  Finally, the less than friendly voice of Daren Alger came out of the speakers. “Yes? What is it, Robert?”

  Robert sighed, allowing a slight whistling to escape his lungs. His relationship with Daren was difficult, at best. At least the voice was coming through loud and clear. Unlike the humans, they had achieved faster than light speed communication. Because they relied on quantum entanglement, the communication was also entirely undetectable and could not be jammed. The downside, at least based on current levels of technological advancement, was expense and reliability. They would be limited to low quality audio. “Operation Black Dragon is underway.” Robert said succinctly. “Four tactical warheads on the moon and eight on Saraya. The moon mission will take place first. I am sending further details on warhead size and anticipated placement.”

  On the other end, there was silence. Entangled particles used for communication wore out. And of course, for the initial entanglement to take place, the particles needed to be adjacent. One did not waste entangled particles on silence. Daren would open the channel and speak when he was ready. Robert waited.

  “Fine.” Daren’s voice came through with crystal clarity.

  No additional communication appeared to be forthcoming. His duty complete, Robert moved to lower the power on his sunlamps when a large, orange tabby cat walked up and jumped onto his lounge chair, placing himself in the most advantageous position to soak up the artificial sunlight. With a slight shrug, Robert settled back and scratched the cat behind the ears. He was breathing, and he had nothing but time.

  ---

  Phoenix City, Saraya, Standard Year 403 after founding

  It was a dark and stormy night on Saraya. Daren walked out the screened doors of his private tree home, looking out at the gently rolling hills on the far outskirts of Phoenix City and the lights shining in the softly sloped valley below. The city lights flickered and blurred, difficult to make out amongst the other trees rising up like giants into the sky, taller than any structure built by human hands on this planet. The rain poured down, soaking him in seconds and feeding the plant life all through the forest. Millions of insects sang in the night and birdcalls could be heard over the sound of the falling rain. Every inch of this paradise planet was teeming, breathing with life. He opened his mouth, letting the water pour in.

  Shedding his clothes without a second thought, Daren walked further into the jungle, letting his skin reflect back the night, the leaves, the rain and the distant silvery light of the moon behind the clouds. It was paradise. There was a pond in the back of his property and he walked out towards it, his steps indistinguishable over the sound of the pouring rain. He dove in without hesitation. The water was always warm, the wildlife small and no danger to him. Daren needed to think.

  They were going to nuke Saraya. His planet, his paradise. He breathed in as his head reached above the water, his strokes propelling him swiftly over the water. He was an observer. A historian. It wasn’t his place to interfere. The heart of the Carda’an empire was over seventy lights years from Saraya. They were all out in the middle of nowhere with no support or guidance to speak of, and their mission objective, was simple: preserve life, preserve resources, observe. A slight twist on the mission objective for old earth, which had been: ‘preserve life, preserve resources, conquer’. The speed of his strokes increased, his hands battling the water underneath. Daren had done his job. When the Sarayans mounted their initial attack on Tundra, he gave warning. The same warning Robert provided a short while ago. Daren could not give specific targets because there had been none. Saraya’s attack was opportunistic. They planned to destroy what they could. His people had been warned. He gasped, breathing in the oxygen rich air. He had done his job.

  Officially, no one blamed Daren for Dragon City. Three and a half million people died. Two of their own, died. And Robert’s human mate, died with them. Leaving Robert a dead man walking, an abomination that, based on their biological programming, should not exist. But that was all right, Daren thought, snorting air into the water. He had a special device for it. An experimental device that, theoretically, blocked the pain of the broken bond. A device installed by, of all people, Grant. Grant, who was incapable of life bonding. A freak, and the result of an industrial accident gone terribly wrong. The far outskirts of known space tended to attract an eclectic group. Daren had simply come for the adventure. For the opportunity to observe the evolution of a new human society. Never in his wildest dreams had he envisioned cannibal moon. It could always be worse, Daren reminded himself. He could be back on cannibal moon. Nothing was worse than that. Not even nuclear war.

  Taking a pause, Daren floated on his back and thought about the nine ships sent out by old earth over five hundred years ago, somewhere around the time he was born. Earth was only then becoming aware of the Carda’an presence on their planet. The nine ships were intended to be a secret, a last ditch attempt to ensure the survival of the human race in its pristine and original form. They were living anachronisms and freaks, all of them. Core information about artificial intelligence and aliens had been stricken from their records before the ships were sent out. Four hundred embryos and a cryo-frozen skeleton crew were sent on each ship, pre-programmed with the single task of finding planets and moons capable of supporting human life. Noah’s arks, the humans called them. Each ship populated not just with humans but plant and animal life deemed most suitable for the aspiring new colonists. Two ships were lost. Two ships were still wandering, their crew and the seeds of human life remaining in cryostasis. One ship had, predictably enough, ended up on the Carda’an homeworld itself, which was just over forty light years away from earth. That one the humans should have predicted. Two other ships had ended up nearby, becoming satellite colonies of the empire. And in his backyard there was Saraya, Tundra, and the dreaded cannibal moon, a mere two and a half lightyears away.

  Humans intended to maintain secrecy around the existence of the nine ships. They failed. To Daren’s knowledge, they were not yet aware of the full extent of their failure. The Carda’an presence on Saraya and Tundra remained unknown to the human population here and on old earth. It made everyone’s job easier. And Daren liked his job. To observe. He stopped abruptly as his feet touched the water grass covered ground underneath his pond. The rain was pouring so hard it was hard to tell where the pond ended and the rain began, but he didn’t mind. Whatever common ancestor bound the humans and life on Saraya, and exposed them both to death by vibrio angerona poisoning, was not to be found in his family tree. To him, it was just water. Daren, like all Carda’ans, was immune.

  It was his paradise and as he had suspected, the Tundrans were coming for it. Robert was coming. Robert, who was a dead man walking. Robert, who Daren knew damn well had been quietly infiltrating the Sarayan government from within, ensuring those who were least competent moved ahead, usuring in a brutal, authoritarian and most importantly incompetent regime that was slowly making this beautiful paradise planet unbearable. Robert, in his observational capacity, acting at the direction of President Hawk, Daren reminded himself with a slight hiss. And now he was a dead man orchestrating a nuclear attack on the planet whose government had, once upon a time, led to the death of his mate. An entirely accidental state of affairs, surely. Daren snorted. It was probably one of the damn D12 miners helping them do it. And Daren would, Daren would… he would observe. He sighed, getting out of the water and walking back into the forest, towards his home.

  ----

  Sophia Hudson, head archivist and historian for the Executive Office of the President, stared at the rain falling outside the screened doors of her home office. It was an unusually cool day on Saraya, and she decided to leave the glass doors open, leaving only the screens. The warm breeze and humid atmosphere of Saraya invaded her office, along with the overwhelming sounds of Sarayan wildlife. Fortunately, her screens were state of the art and managed to keep out most of that life. She watched idly as a fast moving, multilegged creature the size of her hand crawled across the screen, enthusiastically chasing a green fly with iridescent wings.

  It was the last day of the old earth year and somewhere out in the city, the celebrations were likely already beginning. The air was filled with the smell of thriving plants, glorying in the rain and the rich Sarayan soil. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she also detected the distant smell of death. The storm season was the best time of year to be a plant on Saraya, and the most dangerous time to be an animal. The annual rains brought flooding and worse. The danger of vibrio angerona poisoning flowed with the rain. While her ground vehicle was of course waterproof, Sophia wasn’t eager to brave the rains and the flooding to head in to work that day, and had decided to work from home. The increasingly oppressive atmosphere surrounding the Presidential Office these days was an added reason to remain at home in the abysmal weather.

  More and more often lately, she found herself thinking wistfully about retirement. Perhaps in a few more years, if she made it. Documenting the history of President Lorelai Achly’s administration for the benefit and glory of Saraya was becoming an ever more challenging task, one she was getting ready to hand over to Daren. What was the man waiting for?

  Unphased in the face of baseless Tundran aggression, the populace of Saraya remained united in their commitment to defend their world at any cost. No sacrifice was deemed too great…

  Sophia paused in her writing, looking up at the unexpected sound of footsteps down the path towards her remote home, her heart suddenly in her mouth. There were very few reasons why someone would go outside, braving a Sarayan rainstorm, to walk up to her house. Had she said the wrong thing, or perhaps looked the wrong way at the wrong time? Had Daren grown tired of waiting and finally decided to throw her to the carrion bugs? She listened quietly, trying to quell the panic rising inside of her. Moving in the circles she moved, one was always one wrong step away from a painful death. But it was only one set of footsteps, and surely they would send in at least two people if they planned to make an arrest? It occurred to her, perhaps belatedly, that given the current state of affairs on Saraya and with her family, she should have made a plan for this eventuality. But as usual, Sophia Hudson was entirely at a loss on how to deal with her ever changing world. In broad terms, her understanding of the themes and trends of human history was unmatched. She could, within the week, complete a PhD level dissertation on the rise and fall of authoritarian regimes. On the final page, perhaps she could sign her own death warrant with an added flourish.

  Sophia understood exactly where in the tides of history she was. It reminded her of the amusement park rides she attended as a child. You always knew just when the rollercoaster was reaching the top of the hill, the rattle of wheels as it slowed down, drawing out the anticipation for the final drop. She knew the drop was coming. That did not mean she knew how to get off. The footsteps drew closer, still distinctly alone. She heard a surprisingly soft knock at her front door. Someone was standing in a Sarayan rainstorm, but apparently too polite to make her rush. With a slight frown, Sophia got up and hurried to the door, glancing at herself momentarily in her hallway mirror. She was wearing the traditional loose cotton slacks that were so well suited to the Sarayan heat, with a darker fitted shirt. Simple, comfortable clothing. If she had to go to prison, she could do worse. Not that such things mattered for long. Her reddish brown hair was piled somewhat haphazardly on top of her head. Her large and unfortunately expressive brown eyes stared back at her from the mirror with a mixture of puzzlement and fear. Sophia went to open the door.

  “Daren.” She said in complete surprise when she saw him at the door. “Are you all right? Why in the world are you out in the rain?”

  Seemingly unconcerned by the stream of contamination and death raining upon him, Daren Alger shook off his hair and stepped inside. “I felt the urgent need for intelligent conversation.” He said with a smile. “And I brought a bottle of wine for your trouble.” He held out the air sealed bottle. “My apologies for dripping on your floors, Sophia. I had not fully accounted for the weather.”

  Sophia took a step back and stood in her hallway uncertainly, safely outside the range of the dripping water. “Of course, please come in.” She said finally, after a somewhat lengthy pause. “I’ll get you a towel.” She accepted the bottle of wine with a nod, her eyebrows rising slightly as she noted the year and the label. Daren had not stinted on his gift. She came back with a towel and after a brief hesitation, invited him into her office. It seemed a more appropriate option than her living room. Sophia had some vague notion that Daren, with his broad shoulders and sharp cheekbones, was rather handsome. It was an entirely unnecessary precaution, she was sure, but she preferred to avoid any appearance of impropriety. Following Daren’s assistance with her family scandal, Sophia knew she owed him a great deal, but he had never visited her home. As far as she was aware, they did not have that kind of a relationship. In fact, she wasn’t even sure how he knew where she lived. Had he been her secret santa a few years back? Pausing briefly in uncharacteristic confusion, Sophia looked down at the wine bottle she still held in her hand. “Shall I – should I open this now?” She asked.

  “Why not?” Daren asked with a smile.

  Sophia frowned. The water still dripping off his clothes did not appear to faze him in the slightest. “It’s rather early.” She noted. It was, in fact, early morning.

  “Life is short.” Daren said with an easy shrug, settling into a chair under the window, his back to the doors that were flung open to let in the breeze.

  Ever the good host, Sophia walked out to get glasses. Upon her return and following a brief pause, she sat across from Daren in one of the visitors’ chairs, rather than hiding behind her desk, and poured the wine, carefully sealing and filtering the glasses. Whatever caused him to come here in the rain, on the last day of the old year, she owed it to Daren to hear him out. “What would you like to discuss?” Sophia asked, her eyes fully focused on her guest.

  “Hitler.” Daren said, reaching out and picking up his glass. “I would like to discuss Hitler. You are familiar, I’m sure.” Not entirely blind to Sophia’s discomfort, Daren took a scanner out of his pocket and placed it between them. The light flashed green, showing there were no listening devices in their vicinity.

  Sophia shifted in her seat, her back ramrod straight and her body leaning away from him slightly, clearly uncomfortable. “Hitler, whose rise to power created what is known as the Third Reich, the nazi police state of Germany, whose expansionist foreign policy led to the Second World War on old earth.” She recited dutifully, suspicion shining clearly in her eyes as she studied Daren, sitting underneath her window. Scanner or not, she did not like this conversation. She did not like it at all. And really, how much did she trust the flashing green light on his device?

  “His rise to power led to the death of millions.” Daren noted.

  “That seems to be the consensus.” Sophia agreed, with obvious trepidation. “And what would you care to discuss, in regard to this man? Or perhaps we could have a broader discussion on…”

  “No, my dear.” Daren interrupted, most uncharacteristically. “I would like to discuss Hitler.”

  “As you wish.” Sophia said, eyes narrowed.

  “I would like to discuss the rise of Hitler, and the sin of omission.”

  Sophia’s lips tightened. “I see.” She said unenthusiastically.

  The slightest shadow of a smile crossed Daren’s face. “Or is there a problem with discussing – Hitler. Are we pro-Hitler here on Saraya, Sophia?”

  “Ah, not as far as I’m aware, Daren.”

  “Well then, I do not see the issue. Unless you have concerns?” He looked over at her, clearly bemused.

  “I have no concerns.” Sophia said, aware of the inherent danger of her position. It wasn’t that she was making an analogy between Hiter and a current Sarayan leader. It was Daren’s motivations on this odd and rain soaked morning that she found suspect.

  “Excellent. Let us then consider, here in the privacy of your office, the age old hypothetical: is there a moral prerogative to kill Hitler, and if so, who is subject to that moral prerogative?”

  “And is murder, defined as killing in something other than immediate defense of self, ever justified.” Sophia added.

  “Is it?”

  “Depending on the philosophical framework…”

  Daren held up his hand. “Do let us do away with the formalities, Sophia. I would like to hear the answer based on your moral framework.”

  “I… haven’t given it much thought.”

  “Then let us think it through now.” Daren responded, waiving his glass expansively. “In the pro murder column, we have millions of lives, those of your own people as well as the lives of your alleged enemies. It isn’t just the victims that die, you see. The perpetrators of war die just as well.”

  “Yes.” Sophia said. “And in the cons column? The stain of murder on your soul?”

  Daren raised an eyebrow. That one hadn’t occurred to him. “I was going to say the technological progress.” He said mildly. “Some of the greatest technological advancements in human history happen during times of war. War, makes us all stronger. Humanity became a nuclear power during the second world war.”

  “Is nuclear power worth so much, as compared to the smallpox vaccine or the cure for cancer? We managed to achieve some great things in times of peace.”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Well.” Daren considered. “We are all quite small, in universal terms. Nuclear power is one meaningful way we can influence the world around us. It can power our ships, turn asteroids away from our planets, destroy…” He paused. “If you were to ever meet a more powerful enemy, nuclear power is the great equalizer. In the heat of energy released by nuclear fusion, everything and everyone burns.”

  “Hitler did not create the nuclear bomb.” Sophia said, regretting it as soon as she spoke. Her intellectual integrity had reared its ugly head. Hesitant as she was to engage in this discussion at all, she respected Daren too much to simply let that point go. “Does he truly deserve credit for its creation?”

  “He certainly deserves credit for the timing.” Daren said with a shrug.

  “Was the timing important?”

  “Oh, in the grand scheme of things, I rather think it was.”

  Sophia nodded, accepting the argument although based on her familiarity with old earth history, she found it somewhat weak. Why was the timing so important? There wasn’t a whole lot humans did with the power of nuclear destruction, as far as she was aware. Now on firmer moral ground, she focused on the main point she wanted to make. “Where the utility of a given act is uncertain, it may perhaps be wise to consider the potential harm - to yourself.”

  “To myself?” Daren asked, looking genuinely confused.

  “Yes, to yourself. In the world of theoretical philosophy, it is easy to assume you can kill Hitler with no repercussions. But what if we consider the real consequences of such an act? The likelihood of imminent imprisonment and death would, in my mind, shift the balance in favor of doing nothing.”

  Daren’s response left Sophia even more concerned than before. He threw his head back and laughed. “Daren.” She frowned. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Are you indeed? That is…” he paused as the laughter overtook him again “that is most kind.”

  “I didn’t realize… I feel as if you may have become disillusioned. With your job. With our government. I’m sorry for that. Do you know” she took a nervous sip of her wine “when you helped me with my niece, I kept wondering why you wouldn’t take advantage of my political exposure and have me removed from my post entirely. You could have. In retrospect, I think it may reflect most negatively on me, that I think this way. Perhaps… perhaps you really were just trying to help.”

  “Sophia, the last thing I want is to have you removed from your post. It would take my current role from the exceptionally annoying into the realm of downright intolerable.”

  “That’s actually quite kind of you as well, I think.” Sophia responded with a somewhat uncertain smile. “And in addition to the risk to your person” Sophia added hastily “you have to consider the risk to Saraya at large.”

  “Germany.” Daren reminded her.

  “Yes. Apologies, I misspoke.” Sophia cleared her throat, taking another very small sip of wine. “Germany. Let us suppose, for a moment, that one could succeed in killing Hitler. Would that necessarily prevent an imminent attack? Or might the enemy simply take advantage of internal instability to push ahead with their invasion? Weakening the current government of Saraya does not guarantee the Tundrans will stop, Daren.” She said flatly. “It may simply give them an easier victory.”

  “And lives on both sides will be saved.” Daren pointed out.

  “Would they?” Sophia asked sharply. “And what would all our lives look like, living under the heel of an invading force?”

  “That” Daren paused “that is a consideration.”

  “President William Thornhill’s entire cabinet died under suspicious circumstances.” Sophia reminded him. “The administration that made the decision to attack Tundra, is already gone. And have the Tundrans stopped?”

  “That administration is gone but Saraya’s position on Tundran independence has not changed.”

  Sophia shrugged, looking out at the falling rain. “It’s not our place.” She said. “To the question of who has the moral prerogative to kill – Hilter. All I can say is that it isn’t me. I am an observer. I always thought of you that way, as well. Perhaps if I was the next person in line, and I believed without a shadow of a doubt that I could do better. That I could take over and save lives, protect Saraya, make our world better. Then… perhaps. But I know that isn’t me.”

  “I’m rather allergic to leadership, myself.” Daren admitted.

  “And why do we owe them their independence?” Sophia couldn’t resist asking. “We founded the colony. We provided them with the resources they needed to survive. It was an investment made by the people of Saraya. An investment the Tundrans stole. And we are winning, are we not? We have the manpower, the ships, the resources. All they have is the blunt force that comes with nuclear warheads. Historically, our advantages should lead us to victory. How often has the weaker opponent managed to succeed against such overwhelming odds?”

  “That is an excellent point.” Daren said somewhat sharply. “And yet my dear, I rather think that they are winning. There is some precedent for it. Genghis Khan, the Roman Empire under the right leadership. Leaders matter, you see. In the extremes, when one side is fighting with spears and arrows while the other is armed with machine guns, the right leadership may not be enough. But outside of such extremes…” Daren shrugged. “When the right leader has access to information, which can be so much more valuable than guns, bombs, or ships, other imbalances can indeed be overcome.”

  “Would killing Hitler have stopped the war?” Sophia asked.

  “Theoretically? It depends on the timing. Or perhaps the answer is simply no.” He sighed. “However, replacing the government in its entirety would likely have accomplished that goal. Perhaps.” He added with some reluctance. Keen observer of human history that he was, Daren was wise enough to understand his limitations. There were simply too many variables here, to make a meaningful prediction as to the outcome. Sarayans and Tundrans seemed intent on fighting it out. Perhaps he could influence those events. Perhaps Robert could, and perhaps Robert did. And then again, perhaps they were all being carried along by the tides of history, and the endless human drive for war and destruction.

  “Overturning the entire government is rather a tall order.” Sophia said drily. “What did you think of the report I sent you?” She asked suddenly, in an effort to change the subject. “The one where one of the witnesses referenced an alien invasion?”

  Daren shrugged. He had perused the report. The woman was an unimportant witness. The questioning had something to do with an investigation of a high ranking government official involving himself with a prostitute. Quite shocking, naturally. His likely real sin was speaking out of turn or otherwise displeasing Madame President Lorelai Achly. The report was a brief summary of the interview, describing a drug induced episode where the woman claimed the aliens would, inevitably, come to enslave them all. “I thought it was somewhat curious, but certainly not groundbreaking. An unusual fear in our society, isn’t it?” Daren said, suddenly bemused. “Why invent aliens when the government is so clearly out to…”

  Sophia sighed. Daren was proving exceptionally difficult to sidetrack. But she wasn’t ready to give up quite yet. Clearly, he needed to be distracted from whatever madness he seemed determined to pursue. “She was a rather charismatic woman.” Sophia said out loud. “And very beautiful. I have the original recording, if you’re curious to hear it. Apparently, the aliens are coming.”

  “Are they?” Daren asked with a smile. “And how many mind altering substances had she partaken before reaching her conclusions?”

  “A great deal, from what I understand.” Sophia admitted.

  “I would be curious to hear the full recording.” Daren relented graciously.

  “Of course, I’ll send it your way.” Sophia agreed. “Daren, forgive me if I’m being intrusive but I wondered, how have you been? Is your family well?”

  “My family.” Daren leaned back in his chair, glancing out the window at the softly falling rain. He was reminded suddenly of an old earth invention, the hourglass made of sand. The pouring water reminded him of the inexorable flow of sand marking off the time as it marched on. Time, was short. “My family is… as they have always been. Sophia, the Tundrans are coming.”

  “Daren.” She frowned. “I don’t think I should be hearing this.”

  Daren nodded. “Of course. As you wish. On an entirely unrelated note then, we should begin planning our annual retreat. Somewhere especially remote would be my recommendation.”

  “We don’t have an annual retreat.”

  “It’s never too late to start a new tradition, Sophia. I will follow up with a more specific recommendation as to the timing.”

  “As you wish.” Sophia agreed. It was the least she could do.

  Daren got up, brushing the last droplets of water off his clothes with great care to ensure they fell nowhere near Sophia. “A pleasure, as always. I will let you know. About the timing of the retreat.”

  “Yes, of course. And I will send on the recording, as you requested.”

  “Happy New Year, Sophia.”

  “Happy New Year, Daren.” Sophia said, watching him stand up and walk out.

  ---

  “The problem is, Tundra is inherently unstable. If we don’t find a way to stabilize the mechanism used to draw geothermal energy into our shields, we will never have reliable shields. And the very nuclear warheads we need to deflect will destabilize the underlying tectonic… Grant, are you listening to me?

  Grant looked up, momentarily distracted by the unusual vibration on his wrist comm, which he had pre-programmed to go off only when a very specific type of communication channel was used. “I need to go.” Grant said abruptly, before getting up and doing exactly that.

  With a certain degree of apprehension, Grant drove home, taking advantage of his brand new modded out vehicle to speed quite outrageously. Once home, he completed a hasty scan of his surroundings for audio and visual recording devices and stretched his heavy, oversized frame on the double lounge chair, cranking his modified sunlamp to its full power and enjoying the full spectrum of artificial sunlight on his skin. For good measure and in the privacy of his garden, he allowed his skin to take on its natural, scaly appearance. Scientifically, he knew it should make no difference in his ability to draw energy from the radiation, and yet he could not quite get over the feeling that the light felt better on his natural skin. With an entirely human sigh, he activated the quantum entanglement communicator. As he had expected, Daren was waiting for him.

  “Robert has informed me you’re going to nuke Saraya.” Daren spoke the moment the channel opened.

  “I will do no such thing, Daren.” Grant said in annoyance.

  Daren gritted his teeth, letting out a discernible hiss. “You wish to argue moral culpability? Robert is a dead man walking. A dead man breathing – because of you. The ultimate responsibility rests in your hands, Aghrael.”

  Grant, aka Aghrael, winced slightly. Of course, they were all getting sloppy. Other than a handful of the highest ranking officials in the Sarayan presidential administration, no one on Tundra or Saraya seemed to know of their existence. If someone were to overhear Daren mention his true name, they were not likely to draw any meaningful conclusions from that information. On the other hand, if they were to get past his state of the art security and walk in on him in all his scaly glory – well, Grant was in no position to criticize Daren for a slip of the tongue. “While I am not privy to the details” he responded calmly “I would theorize that President Jim Hawk is making the decision to initiate a nuclear attack on Saraya and Robert is merely…”

  “Bullshit.” Daren interrupted, frustrated as much by his own inaction as the situation itself.

  Grant’s eyes widened in surprise. It was exceedingly unusual to be interrupted via quantum comms.

  “James Hawk is Robert’s man. Robert is nuking Saraya and by extension, you are nuking Saraya. We have animals, Grant. We have trees that are taller than the tallest building on Tundra and you want to destroy it all. When was the last time you visited?”

  Grant rubbed the scales along his arm in frustration. Everyone got touchy about nukes. “It is not Robert’s decision.” He repeated.

  “Robert engineered Jim Hawk’s rise to power. And now, the man is fulfilling his purpose, just as Robert intended. How long will it go on? Yes, he continues breathing, but for what? Does he draw breath for anything other than vengeance? It’s been nearly a human lifetime since Dragon City was destroyed and yet Tundra takes vengeance as if it happened yesterday. Who is at the heart of that? For whom did the time pass in the blink of an eye?”

  “Robert is…” Grant paused. He had been about to say Robert was enjoying his job, but that would have been untrue. “Robert appears to be fulfilled by his role.” He backtracked. “And President Hawk is no one’s man but his own. Humans are perfectly capable of holding grudges for a lifetime and beyond. It’s not as if they’re acting out of character.”

  “We have a dead man pulling the strings. And somehow, the result is more death.”

  “The same can be said when humans pull the strings, and they’re lively as can be.” Grant said flatly. “I don’t agree with your interpretation of events. To my knowledge, the planned attack on Saraya is initiated by Jim Hawk, current President of Tundra. Robert is merely facilitating the operation in his capacity as the human head of the Tundran Internal Secret Service. What would you have me do?”

  “The man is over five hundred years old. He has been in this solar system for nearly as long as the humans themselves. Everything he does is beyond human. Razhel is who he is, he cannot be human. Grant, tell him to stop this. Stop the attack on Saraya. If there is anything I can do…”

  “It’s not our place, Daren. And it’s certainly not my place to direct Robert.”

  “Then advise him.”

  “In my official capacity as Frankenstein’s creator?” Grant asked drily, referencing an old earth book Daren had recommended to him, which he naturally never bothered to read.

  “Frankenstein was the creator.” Daren said through clenched teeth. Clearly, Grant had not read the book. “Robert is the monster. Advise the monster, Aghrael. In your official role as the monster’s creator.”

  “I don’t believe our military has a rank for that.” Grant stretched out his nearly eight foot tall bulk on the double lounger, not bothering to hide the sinuous grace of his movements, as he so often did. He found moving in the more jerky human fashion served him well. And it wasn’t just the humans that felt more comfortable. It was a sign of Daren’s desperation that he would come to Grant, freak that he was.

  “You refuse to intercede?”

  “I do.”

  “Will you at least read the book?”

  Grant hissed slightly. Were they really now using quantum comms to discuss literary analysis? He was the one who would have to renew the entangled particles they used up during this conversation. “If Robert begins eating brains, I will certainly reassess my position on the matter.”

  “That’s zombies, Grant. Frankentstein’s monster did not eat brains.” Daren said sharply.

  “Bodyparts?” Grant asked, unable to contain his bemusement.

  “It is a very short book, Grant.”

  “I’m a scientist, Daren. I don’t read fiction.”

  “It is a philosophical commentary on…”

  “The emperor himself has found Robert’s continued existence to be an inspiration.” Grant interrupted, since quantum comms manners had clearly dissipated into the sun. “It has been over fifty years since his mate’s death. He is dead but he breathes. The longest in the recorded history of our species. My invention works.” He looked down, suddenly realizing he had extended his claws and scraped a layer of hardened Tundran wood off his lounger. Surreptitiously, Grant ran a finger over the damage, grateful that this mode of communication was limited to audio. His people became exceedingly nervous when he showed any sign of aggression. Freaks, him and Robert both, living in a distant backwater solar system over seventy light years from the heart of their civilization and forty light years from the Carda’an colony the humans referred to as old earth. It seemed they were all starting to forget what normal was.

  “Name one thing, one thing Robert has done that has not been driven by a thirst for vengeance over his mate’s death.” Daren said, his voice softening.

  “Well.” Grant took a surreptitious breath, calming himself. “He has the cat.”

  ---

  Daren shut off the quantum comms channel and leaned back in his chair. It was past noon now, and the brutal light of the Sarayan sun beat down, even through the thick cloud cover and rain overhead. He had failed. It didn’t come as a surprise. He could attempt to speak with Robert again, and at some point he would, but he wasn’t up for it just then. Grant would be talking about the wasted quantum entangled particles for weeks to come. Perhaps it was time for him to pay a personal visit to the thriving Tundran colony, he thought idly. Settled as he was, he wasn’t especially looking forward to the trip.

  Like most humans on Saraya, Daren’s home was inside a hollowed out tree, whose interior was long ago devoured by Sarayan insects and other wildlife. The home was constructed to his specifications, doing away with some of the safety measures the humans practiced to ensure survival in the Sarayan heat, even if their cooling systems failed entirely. While the typical human dwelling offered small, heavily insulated windows to limit the streaming radiation of the sun, he had custom oversized windows installed, giving himself a wide, unobstructed view of the green pond in the forest beyond. He sat back in his heavy, carved wood chair and looked out idly, watching the flying insects and reptiles as they danced over the surface of the pond. The reptiles outnumbered the insects for once, their heavy leather wings better suited to flying in the rain. Their scales shone in the muted light of the sun, reflecting back every color of the rainbow. It was beautiful.

  Pouring himself a cool glass of water into an open and unfiltered glass, Daren settled in with the recording Sophia had provided. He knew Sophia was using the recorded reference to an alien invasion to distract him from his more homicidal tendencies. Her misguided attempt to protect him was touching, as well as exceedingly na?ve. Officially, the Sarayan colonists were not supposed to know of the alien presence on old earth. Unofficially, the crew tasked with raising the four hundred human embryos once a suitable colony had been found, were of course aware of the nature of their mission. Before their deaths, the knowledge was quietly passed on. Today, a handful of the highest officials in the Sarayan government continued to retain that knowledge. The head archivist and sub-head archivist and historian were one of those few. From what Daren had observed, it was typically viewed as an oddity, an entirely irrelevant bit of lore from old earth that may be forgotten entirely over the next few generations. After all, it was well known that there were no aliens on Saraya. Sophia seemed to find his interest quaint and entirely unobjectionable. With a casual shrug and one last glance at the aerial show taking place over his pond, Daren pressed play.

  The camera focused in on the witness sitting alone in a witness chair in the center of a dark, windowless room. As Sophia had observed, the woman was unusually beautiful. Thick dark hair flowed down nearly to her waist and her large, light blue eyes focused directly on the camera, the pupils clearly dilated from some type of mind altering substance, either something she had taken herself, something provided by one of the interrogators, or an unfortunate mixture of both.

  “Your name is Jane Thomson?” One of the interrogators asked. The man was off screen, and would likely remain invisible and anonymous for the duration of the interview.

  “Why not?” The woman responded, her voice flowing like water.

  There was a pause. Daren heard the voice of the interrogator, slightly muffled. “And it says here you’re… an accountant. Is that right?”

  “I do the books.” The woman who may or may not be Jane Thomson said, somewhat dreamily.

  “You work for Jonno Summers and you do the books?” The interrogator repeated, doubt heavy in his voice. Looking at the woman, Daren tended to agree.

  “Yes.” She said softly. She moved as if wanting to do something with her hands, but the cuffs around her wrists, attached to the arms of the chair on either side, prevented her from whatever she intended to do. This was Saraya. Even witnesses were questioned in chains. It was a reasonable precaution, given how Sarayans felt about government authorities, Daren thought with some disgust.

  “You do anything else?” The man’s voice asked, the tone clearly suggestive.

  “I do nothing else.” The woman said, her head tilting slightly.

  “Darling, looking the way you do, you’re not gonna walk around Jonno’s establishment doing the books.”

  “I do nothing else.” The woman repeated. Her eyes were wandering now. She was clearly having a difficult time focusing. “Jonno’s.” She paused. “Jonno’s is a strictly voluntary establishment.”

  “I heard that. You’re not there to make that any easier for him, are you then?”

  “I am.” The woman paused. “I don’t get out much.” She said.

  “Something you should know, then.”

  “Yes?”

  “This here’s a Sarayan interrogation facility. We’re not what you’d call a strictly voluntary establishment.” There was distinct laughter in his voice now.

  For the first time, another woman’s voice could be heard, barely audible on the tape. “That’s one of Jonno’s people. This isn’t the time.”

  “No way she looks like that and…”

  “Have you ever seen this man?” The female interrogator’s voice interrupted more clearly.

  The woman’s eyes, still clearly unfocused, moved slightly to the right, presumably to view the photograph.

  “Maybe.” She said vaguely.

  “Maybe I can help jog your memory.” The male interrogator’s voice suggested.

  The woman’s eyes moved with unnatural slowness, from the right to the left, presumably refocusing on the male interrogator. “Are you…” she paused “you are threatening me?” She said, forming the words slowly, as if she were having a hard time understanding the situation.

  “I’m not threatening you darlin’. I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

  “You are.” She cocked her head. “You are threatening me.” Suddenly, the woman started laughing. It started out as a small stuttering laugh that seemed to build on itself, until the peals of laughter were echoing strangely around the interrogation room. The woman’s head was thrown back, her body shaking with laughter as her arms strained against the restraints attached to the heavy wood chair used for witnesses during interrogation.

  Daren winced. Charismatic, Sophia had called her. That was an understatement. And the whole thing was starting to give him the creeps.

  “You. You are threatening me.” The woman repeated, the dark pupils of her eyes even more dilated now as she stared slightly to the left of the camera, towards her interrogator. “You are nothing.” She whispered. “There is nothing.”

  “Why?” It was the female interrogator who asked.

  It was an idle question, clearly unrelated to the investigation, but Daren could certainly understand the temptation to ask.

  “There is nothing you could do.” The woman said softly. “That I would notice. You think you have power. You think you can make people afraid. You are nothing. You don’t know what power is. They are coming. They are with us. They exist.”

  “Who?” It was the female interrogator’s voice again. Her voice had picked up the easy cadence of an expert interrogator. The words were short, quietly unassuming, nearly invisible signposts to lead the witness in the right direction. She had observed that the witness wanted to talk and let it be known that she was there to listen.

  “The aliens.” The woman said, her eyes now focused on the camera. “They came for us. They came to old earth. They will come for us here. To touch and to hurt – that is not power. That is nothing. Power is to take everything and change it to your will. She closed her eyes. “He can take my thoughts and change them until they are no longer mine. He can make me hurt with a thought. What I feel, what I believe, what I want. It isn’t mine. That’s what slavery is. Until there is nothing left.” Her eyes moved back to the left, towards the male interrogator. “Try me.” She said. “Try and see if you can touch me. If it matters. If there is anything left.” Her eyes opened wider. “Try me.” She repeated, before turning her eyes back to the right. “They are coming for you. One mistake. One mistake and they can take more than you can begin to imagine. More than you ever thought you had. And it can go on and on and on. For years. For decades. For centuries. They are coming. They are coming. They are coming!!!”

  “Fuck.” Daren said out loud to the empty room.