Vector ⋯ 11

Alarms – Outpost 45

“Astra…” 

Astra woke abruptly to sirens, red lights painting the facility walls as the ground quaked roughly. 

Hearing engines descending in the distance she ran from her bedroom. 

How many would she lose this time? 

How many would die for Starion’s purpose?

“Astra…” this time Astra heard Theta through her comm link as she peeked over the low cut wall. 

Her mind filled with his voice as her sight grew hazy. 

“Astra!”

Astra woke to shaking as Theta held her shoulders in the safety of her room. “Are you alright, Commander? Your waking system went off and you began screaming.”

Astra sat up in her bed and nodded. “I’m okay. Thanks for checking, Theta.”

He stood, sweeping the room to ensure nothing would cause further duress. “Are all of your dreams this way?”

She shook her head. “Not always. I shouldn’t even be having them anyway.”

He noted her dismissal, wanting to hurry the subject along as she rose for the day. “What does a good dream look like to you?”

She looked into his waiting eyes. “Home, I guess.”

“The Dawn’s Ridge?”

Astra laughed as he mentioned her birth ship. “No… It’s more of a concept really. Sometimes it changes, but…essentially, just home. I thought I had it recently and…it didn’t last.”

He leaned with interest. “The pirate attack on your starter colony?”

She nodded silently as she toyed with her watch.

An hour's ride south, her colony had been terraformed within a gorge, plotted to collect water from natural mesh installed at the top, and run freely through the canal through the canyon city with a pump system to disperse water back on top to fertilise farm lands. 

It was compact, it was complex, and there was nothing she had ever wanted more. 

Maintaining Admiral Arkham’s Arkham Rift colony was a privilege, one that she was thankful beyond words to be trusted with. To do this was to honour her mentor. But mining brought her no passion, and her colony was intended for more than labour, but to be a self-sustaining way to create the New Earth they had long searched for.

The day Starion greenlit her plans was her happiest memory, and she had gone to work right away, plotting and distributing spare resources unused by Arkham Rift to avoid making waves with an increased budget. 

It had taken her thirty years versus the standard hundred and twenty, and proved that each award and promotion she had received were well earned through a legacy she could call her own. 

Then the unthinkable happened.

It was in the night that they came, Raider Pirates armed with explosives and battery gear, an attack that killed all the workers involved and the families that had only just relocated from Arkham Rift to be near their loved ones. They stole everything worthwhile and sabotaged the facility, making it irreparable. 

Astra’s dream had been taken with irreconcilable failure, and though still valued by Starion and her MSC colleagues, she had been branded as provocative and unstable, proof that new ventures were too dangerous in their political climate. Her project was shelved, and she was ordered to return to overseeing Arkham Rift for the foreseeable future.

Now she worked tirelessly, hoping that her new project the Arc Data Net would lead to the safe harbour of her future settlement and mend old wounds. 

“The data net was the defensive asset that I was plotting for it. It’s to prevent outside hackers from interfering with settlements because of the invisible barrier, which never fails and is impenetrable. Starion told me to keep working on that, but my terraforming mechs–all of my prototype equipment was taken. My colony failed before it could even start.”

Theta looked on her melancholy with confusion. “Forgive my inquiry if it offends you, Commander–are you not happy to have survived?”

Astra looked to him, not offended, with a deep sigh. “Survival isn't all there is to life for organics. Sometimes…we want… or need, a little more. Like a purpose.”

“Is your purpose not your mission directive?” he questioned.

Inside she felt her soul twitch in discomfort. 

She supposed it should be. It was what she was quite literally made for. But the sound of living simply for Starion’s never ending task was far too unfavourable to settle for. 

That could not be her purpose, could it? Could she ever have a divine purpose–created the way she was?

“I thought it was. But maybe…I haven’t found it yet.” she said quietly in thought. 

Her whispers reached him in the dark. 

Theta stood uneasy. “I can still offer you comfort if you’d like?”

Astra let out a loud gasping laugh, her voice singing with amusement as she hid her face from him. “I will shoot you. Don’t think I won’t.” 

She stood and pulled on her grey MSC sweater. “And I don’t need anything like that. I’m not lonely, I’m great–fine, really. Neither you or Admiral Arkham need to worry.”

Theta turned to her dresser as she dressed for the night fallen day. Spotting the fluorescent pill tubes, he picked one up and examined it before listening for her heartbeat. “You should not take these. Your heart defect makes for your tolerance to be incompatible. That may be why you experience lethargy and other side effects.”

Astra squinted, her hand running down the navy mesh suit she zipped up. “That’s strange. The Admiral was pretty insistent that I take them. The MSC chemists usually check for that kind of thing.”

Astra eyed him as she tightened her vest, wondering if it wasn’t MSC she should be worried about Theta monitoring.

“I can sense your distrust, Commander. I assure you it was a suggestion, nothing more.”

She nodded lightly. “You read the heart defect part in my file?”

“I was curious about the results of your creation. You seem to have multiple birth defects though MSC is adamant about their genetic reprogramming being flawless.”

She chuckled away his blunt and unpurposeful dig, and pointed to the pale patches of skin over her right eye and shoulder, lifting her sweater to show a larger patch up her brown side. “Vitiligo. It happens more than they like in the program but they don’t throw us away. We just have to work a little harder than everyone else.”

“And yet you became the youngest Metahuman to graduate from their birth training. It’s commendable.”

She eyed him before speaking. “That sounded like a compliment, Theta.” Maybe this could work between them? With patience and understanding. 

“We should try our best to get along together during your testing, so just feel free to be yourself, okay? That way we can build some trust.”

“I will follow your lead, Commander–with trust.” he stood in front of her now, his eyes casting light into her light brown.

She reached up and took her fingers to his face plate, feeling the smooth ridge and divet across his cheek as she reached the comm link in his ear. She turned a small disk as she touched her own, blue light glowing underneath her fingers. “I synced our implants so that way we don’t have to call to speak to each other.” 

He felt her fingers linger before she pulled away. “If you are hungry, I can cook and allow you to rest? It will allow me to work closely with the food you grow here in the facility.”

She nodded. “I like the sound of that. There's an agriculture documentary we can watch too if you're interested?”

He followed her to the kitchen. 

“I am interested.” he saw her smile, the white line on her brown cheeks turning up with happiness. “I noticed your tattoo line does not look like Admiral Arkham’s. His is scarred and prominent, made of his tissue. Your surgical scar over the bridge of your nose is hardly noticeable. What caused this discrepancy?”

She continued unjamming the coffee pot. “When Nomads were born they were toying with the idea of robotic parts being implanted at birth for amplified abilities. The only one that worked well enough with the lowest mortality rate was the facial plate.  At twelve Nomad kids get their operation done for heightened senses, eye-sight, comms, and all. Admiral Arkham is from a program a few centuries ahead of mine so they hadn’t perfected the surgery yet. His implant is larger and takes more upkeep and replacement so they scar. In my class and on, the process became seamless, so we get the white line tattooed in honour of those who came before us. To symbolise their  sacrifice.”

Theta heard her heart thrum at her memories. “Your pulse is elevated, Commander. Do you care for him?”

Astra playfully pushed his suggestion away. “No! Nothing like that. I just…admire him as a mentor. Sometimes…” She thought further on Antonio’s stubborn attitude. “I just owe him a lot. He helped raise my group.”

She looked at Theta, wondering briefly if he had memories of his own. “Do you have anyone like that?”

“No. My knowledge is data Merrimech has accumulated over time and extremely limited due to Starion’s policy against unshackled AI.”

“I’m surprised.” She said in interest. “Sometimes it really seems like you have the impression of free will.

“I guess…we are both alike in that way. Both created with the very near impression of a soul.”

Astra shook her head at his words. “I have a soul.” she said defensively.

Quiet for a moment, he continued. The blue lights of his eyes lit up the dark. “Do you believe I have one as well?”

Arriving in the dark kitchen she turned on the light, illuminating his form next to the brown counters. “I believe this conversation is getting very near to breaching Starion policy. It could lead to trouble.”

“But you like trouble…don’t you–Commander?”

She felt a flinch of warmth as she pointed from him to Eon, catching Theta’s flirtatious tone. The heat from his energised stare tingled her arms. “Watch this one, Eon. No sudden movements.”

‘I’m not real?’ – Control Room – Outpost 45

Astra stood in wait in the comms circle in front of the bay windows, the desert rolling by in front of the glass with the stars far past in the dense space blue.

Click chimed in as the window turned into a video screen. “Connecting Admiral Arkham for your call, Commander.”

“Thank you, Click.” She smiled wide as a handsome Metahuman man with tipped ears and tan skin smiled underneath a salt and pepper beard and a crisp white uniform.  “Hello, Admiral. You look well today.” 

“Astra, doing well? I’m surprised, you seem…happy. Could it be that you’ve finally rested?”

She nodded, “Yes.” With a brief glance she looked over her shoulder, her black and yellow belt turning on her midriff as she looked into the garden behind the control room, the skylight beaming white light from the sun into the rows of the makeshift greenhouse, plants and vines hanging between the bungalows. 

There Theta stood, tending to the garden as he waited for her to finish her call.

“Theta has actually been really helpful. I’m finding it easier to assign tasks to him to allow me time to focus.”

Antonio glanced behind her at the mention of her companion. “Yes…I see from your reports that he is influential. Let us just be sure that we recall that ‘he’ is an ‘it’, Astra. One that we are returning as soon as Merrimech deems the trial period over.” Antonio warned as he felt his brow raise. 

Astra stood more rigid, hoping not to imply anything further. “Of course, sir. You can count on me to keep things professional.”

“And how's it progressing? Did you expand its capacity?”

“It's going well, Admiral. I took a look and the model is working fine, but the data capacity that Merrimech indicated was under scale. It can already hold something vast–endless really. I'm not sure how much I could alter that to assist.” 

Antonio rubbed his chin. All seemed aligned. “And here I was concerned when it was reported that you weren’t taking your medication. It seems your labour is coming to fruition. How’s the data net coming along? I see from your progress notes you claim to be nearly finished. Is that with the new specifications we requested?”

She nodded with worry building within her. Starion’s notes were…troubling. “Yes…but I’m worried the extra stress of a laser defence system would make it harder for it to focus on its primary task. And it could be destructive–”

“Details, Astra.” Antonio said with a wag to his finger. “Work out the details, and then we can talk about concerns. I have another meeting to get to, but keep up the good work. Commander.”

“Admiral.”

As Antonio hung up she turned over her shoulder to look back at Theta, his grey hair blowing minutely in the short breeze through the canopies, watering a planter with a bright green can in his black platinum hand as Eon twirled by his feet.

She joined him in the garden as he turned to her, his black brows and eyes rising with a smile. “Your terraforming prototypes are remarkable, Commander.”

She rubbed her arms. “Yes, Starion has made impressive feats.”

Theta shook his head. “Not Starion alone, Astra. You did the work.”

She gave him a smile. “Engineering is my specialty, but agritecture is my heart.” she tapped the planter as water bubbled from the exposed cracks, spilling into the valley of the elevated floor. “The recycling system for New Dawn was based on this. It collects and recycles, adding it back in like rain water. I wish I could have finished.”

She looked up at him with admiration, feeling fluttering within her tummy as he looked down at her. “Your heart rate is increasing, Commander—”

“Theta–don’t you dare.” Astra turned her face away with a laugh, interrupting him before he could offer again. She took her arms in her hands. “And…if we did anything like that I would want you to…want to–not have to.

He went silent for only a moment, her down turned face, blushing considerably underneath her white tattoo and freckles. “I do want to.”

She looked up at him with hope for only a moment before shaking her head and groaning. “No, you don’t. You’re programmed to think you do. It’s not real.”

“I’m…not real?” he questioned in hesitation as he attempted to understand.

Click interrupted them as Astra’s comm line chimed. “A request from Arkham Rift, Commander.”

Astra straightened. “Patch them through, Click.” As she listened to a farmer complain about derelict machines needing to be moved, Astra looked back to Theta. “Want to come?”

He sat down the watering can prepared to follow her anywhere. “Lead the way.”

 

To be continued...