Spirits of Sol 3
By J. L. Young They took the crew to an undisclosed location deep inside a concrete structure. They placed MREs from their dropship on a coffee table in the center of the room and provided water and furniture. The away team’s suits were decontaminated and hung in a corner. Diego and Rain were the last to arrive. “Good to see we’re all alive,” Octavius’s deep, calming bass tone came from a couch near the back of the room. “Yeah,” Rain began. “Question is… why?” “Did they allow you to get the seeds?” Diego cleaned his glasses with the hem of his shirt. “They eagerly helped us load the dropship. Too bad they wouldn’t let us fly it.” “If they intended to kill us, they would have done it already,” Fleur signed, and Fadiya translated. Octavius shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I shot at one of them and it shrugged it off like it was nothing. Then we had a conversation and now we’re here.” “Could these be the Spirits we heard about?” Fleur asked. Masuru tossed a multi-scanner on the couch and sat on the armrest. “I plan on asking if they’re amicable to another conversation.” “Speculation?” Octavius asked. “You know I don’t like to speculate. The spirits are still classified tech, even to this day. They could be… they could be alien tech for all I know.” Masuru picked up the multi-scanner. “The suits should read something. We were all outside the dropships at some point. There’s not a bit of radiation on them. Yeah, we could wash them, but there’s always some residual radiation.” “Could the scanner be defective?” Fadiya asked. “Sure,” Masuru replied. But every one of our multi-scanners read the same thing. I’ve done a self-test on each of them. They check out. Whoever our new friends are, they absorb radiation. It could be what supplies their power. We have just scratched the surface of such tech with photovoltaic cells. The radiation left behind by whatever it is we have done here is the kind that isn’t easily extirpated.” “Godlike abilities?” Fleur asked. Masuru smirked and shook his head. Octavius stood and collected a pack of food off the table. “Perhaps we should consider an escape.” Fleur stepped before Octavius. Her hands moved frantically. “We don’t know their intention. Escape could be unprofitable and downright deleterious.” Octavius looked to Fadiya for the translation. “Vote. Yay, we wait and see how this plays out. Nay, we figure out how to get out of here. Wherever here is. Masuru?” “Yay.” “Fleur?” She nodded. “Fadiya?” “I say we take our chances.” “Diego?” “Let’s see what they have to say.” “Rain?” “Yay.” Octavius took a breath. “Four to two. Like Diego said, ‘let’s see what they have to say.” The door opened, and a figure entered. It took on the form of a human woman. She was skinned in flawless chrome, though the metal stretched and folded like skin as she walked. No textile enveloped her. The detail, excruciating. “I was hoping you were going to arrive at that outcome. Democracy is a beautiful thing.”
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Spirits of Sol pt. 2
by J. L. Young The dropships pushed away from the mothership. “Hold, running a passive scan for the Spirits. Scope clear, initiate deorbit burn.” Three ships flashed their thrusters and were engulfed by the atmosphere. Each settled on the planet with minimal drama. Octavius unclipped his restraints and moved to the door. Masuru sat fidgeting with his restraints, but finally got them loose. He unsecured an equipment box from the bulkhead and proceeded to the aft section where the suits hang. After assisting each other into their suits, they collected their equipment and proceeded to the door. The outer airlock opened to reveal a snow-covered fountain with blackened bronze statues riding mythical beasts. Masuru arched his back to angle the visor up high enough to see the whole of the massive sculpture. “The indigenous people of this planet were pretentious, weren’t they?” “We’re descended from those indigenous, genius. Come on. We don’t have much time,” Octavius replied. “Did you see that statue in the middle? He’s jacked like you.” The men reached the top of the steps. Masuru struggled to breathe, but he managed to say, “I’m amazed this place survived the attack, giving its proximity to a major seat of power.” “We’re not here to sight-see.” Masuru tugged on the door, looked at the lock on the outside door, and took hold of a tool hanging from his belt. Octavius stepped up and threw his armored fist through the glass. His colleague, nonplussed, said, “Really, show off. I know what you’re going to say, we don’t have time.” They passed the inner doors and came up to a lowered gate. There didn’t seem to be a lock available to circumvent. “Ok, Mr. Impatient, open it up.” Octavius glared at Masuru before opening his bag and producing a crowbar. He slid an end under the center of the gate and pried. The gate’s lock snapped and a wave propagated through the gate. The sound echoed off the marble walls, floor, and pillars. Once inside, the men followed directions to the digital archives. When they arrived, Octavius breathed, “Unlock it.” “What? You’re not going to just bust in like you did the front door?” “It’ll take too long.” “So, suddenly my tools are the most expeditious way into a room?” Masuru asked as he pushed a homemade device into the knob. “Shut up, and unlock the damned door.” The device clicked five times as it rotated the tumbler. Octavius opened the door. Inside the room, Masuru opened his equipment box and plugged some cables into the back of the archiving systems. He adjusted the power output to match the needs of the system and activated them. “Good, most still retain intact data. Initiating retrieval. The EMP didn’t knock them out.” “How long will it take?” Octavius asked. “Judging from the number of files, uh…” A clicking sound found its way to their ears. Masuru looked at Octavius. Fear washed across his face. “What was that?” “Be quiet.” Octavius approached the door, turning up the volume on his suit speakers. The metallic click propagated. The volume of the clicks increased as they neared their position. Then they became slow and methodical when approaching the digital archives door. Octavius reached down to his pistol. He used his other hand to suppress the holster as he pulled the gun. The imperceptible friction between the polymer frame and the thermoplastic holster. His heart pounded in his chest as he raised the pistol. He breathed to calm himself. The approaching clicks were now loud enough to incite pain. The clicks changed shape. Each one separate, akin to the patter of an insect and in time. They fell silent. Octavius, as quiet as he could, shifted the mode selector to fire on his weapon. The detent issued a slight ting. A sword-like appendage stabbed through the steel door separating the top hinge from the frame. Another separated the middle and bottom hinges. It pushed the door free of the frame, turned it, and pulled it into the corridor, allowing it to crash to the floor. Octavius stepped back and pulled the trigger as a mechanical monstrosity pushed itself into the room. It thrust a pair of sword-like appendages toward Octavius. They shifted into a grappling mechanism to take a grip of the man. It pulled him close. “Bio-mechanical. Controlled by a mass of nerve tissue. Possessing a hollow dorsal nerve cord. Endoskeletal structure encased in multiple dermal layers. What species are you?” It said in English. Octavius’s fear caused him to stammer, “Human.” “Destroyer of worlds, whatever is the reason for your return?” “To collect our history. So we could not do this again.” Masuru replied. “A noble endeavor, yet you carry the devices of war on your persons. You use them when faced with uncertain ends. Your species has learned nothing thus far.” “On the contrary,” Masuru began, “humans are still an infant species. We have much to learn and we have learned much.” Spirits of Sol
By J. L. Young A man gray and worn from travelling many parsecs awoke to the sound of the engines spooling down. As his eyes opened, the comms panel above his head chimed. He wiped his eyes and stabbed a meat stick at the answer button. “Have we reached the system?” “Yah, Sir. Old Sol.” “Take us in slowly. Don’t want to spook the Spirits.” “Yah, yah. Dat be bad,” the pilot replied. After slipping his feet into worn boots, he climbed from the berth and shuttered it. He slipped into a jacket and let it hang open. The man took to a dispenser and wiped out a glass with his shirt before pushing it into the dispenser and pressed the button marked orange juice. Once the glass was filled, he sat it on a table and pulled a flask from his jacket, unscrewed the lid, poured it, and took a neat swig before replacing the top. He took to the small flight deck. Once there, he handed the pilot the flask. The young man proceeded to take a drink. “Initiate eighty percent burn for two minutes. Passive scan only.” “Yah, Skippa,” the pilot kissed the charm hanging on a humble gold necklace. With a quick adjustment, he flipped some switches above and beside him. They could feel the gees increase, despite being minute. The Captain scratched at his itching beard and watched the ladar/radar readout. He didn’t realize he was leaning on the console and staring at the green screen. He felt the thrust cut out. “Go silent. Freeze up the nozzles. Azal flipped another switch on his dash. Liquid nitrogen was sprayed directly on the nozzles. Thermal sensors inside the nozzles relayed data to the flight deck. “We’s cold, Sir.” As the ship glided through the system, the Captain took a seat and adjusted a small screen on the arm of his chair, and took a breath. “Azal, tell me again why we’re out here?” “We’s findin’ our past, Sir. Gonna make the hold full. Makin’ lotsa chips, we are.” The Captain’s voice fell dour. “We could’ve made a good livin’ making runs between the colonies. Our greed has taken us too far, my friend.” “I follow yah far, Sir. Yah does good.” An hour into the perilous traverse, the Captain stood up and rested his hand on the back of Azal’s seat. The pilot was already calculating a braking maneuver to park the ship in orbit around the third planet. “We’s in orbit, Sir. Sensors sayin’ it no lookin’ too good down dare. Hot, not the toasty hot.” “Good flying, Azal,” the Captain patted the pilot’s shoulder and stepped off the flight deck. Soon his feet brought him into the cargo hold where he met with the rest of the crew. “I heard stories of this place, Captain. I don’t see why we’re risking our skin for some old books.” “Human history comes at a premium, Fleur,” the Captain replied. “What’s the weather like down there?” “Azal says we got fallout. There are three places to hit. Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. East coast North American continent. Octavius, you and Masuru take that one, if it still exists. Fadiya and Fleur, the data center Council Bluffs, Iowa. Diego, Rain, the seed vault in Spitsbergen, Norway. Azal has already sent the coordinates to the dropships. Be quiet out there. We don’t want to trigger the Spirits.” “Spirits, Sir?” Octavius asked. “Sol Protective Intelligence Rapid Impact and Tracking Sentinels, Spirits for short.” The group collectively said, “You got it, boss.” |
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May 2024
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