After writing about something from my childhood yesterday, I was determined to write something very different for today's challenge and decided that doing something with a science fiction flavour to it would be fun.
I feel like this is something that could have been a lot better with more time but, three hours or so after putting pen to paper (at least, metaphorically) I'm done with something that (at the moment, at least) I quite like.
So, without further ado, Day 2's challenge - Facing the Fear...
Facing the Fear
The Fahrenheit class frigate Navarro dropped out of Patch-Space on the trailing edge of the Ginobi
Nebula, its propulsion systems spooling down amid dancing fractal clouds of
virtual particles.
It hung
silently in the darkness, a bulbous needle whose uniformity was only broken by
the pinpricks of light that were the retro-fitted environment blisters along
its grey hull. A thing of purpose rather than beauty, the Navarro was little more than a spine of exposed superstructure; braided
filaments organically weaved together to contain a Polyakov Drive.
“We are
here.”
Alana
Dshae looked at the field screens; a panorama of stars had replaced the nothingness
of Patch-Space while, seemingly below them, lay the roiling blue and orange dust
clouds of the nebula. She felt her
breath catch slightly in her chest. They were actually here; they had made it
all the way to the bounds of The Rim.
“Which
means,” continued the melodic voice of the construct, “that we do not have long
before your scheduled displacement.”
“You’re
sure about this?” she asked, not for the first time.
“As I
believe I mentioned when you asked this question fifteen hours and thirty three
minutes ago, far greater intellects than mine were gathered in order to select
you for this mission. The body of their opinion was that you have a high chance
of success.”
“And
what if I change my mind?”
“Our projections
suggest you won’t.”
“Maybe
there’s a part of me that wants to change my mind, just to spite you.”
“Maybe.”
The construct cocked its head slightly to one side, the barest hint of a wry
smile etched across its almost human face. “But it’s something that has already
been factored into our projections.”
She
flung her head back and pushed her long black hair with both hands, staring up
at the ceiling with her hands on her head.
“I guess,”
she said finally, “I guess, I just find it hard to believe that, out of all the
trillions of people in Gathered Space, someone thought I was the best person to
do this.”
“If it
makes you feel better about yourself,” replied the construct, “you were
actually the 4,212th person, in order of preference, within Gathered
Space.”
“What?”
“You
were 4,212th on the original list. But due to the chronological
parameters of this mission, only a thin sliver of Gathered Space could be
considered. This area was then further narrowed by the requirement that there needed
to be a Fahrenheit class frigate both in range for transport and available to make the necessary jump.
Thus, we were highly restricted in our selection.”
“Ok, I’m
suddenly feeling altogether less special.”
“I
could tell you that you’re very special to me.”
“Would
you mean it?”
“Not really,
no.”
“There,”
she said with a broad smile. “That’s when
you’re meant to lie to me.”
“I’ll
bear it in mind for next time. But, perhaps, we should cease our vague flirting
and run through the mission one last time?”
“Sure.
But we’ve been through it quite a few times already; I think I’ve got it by now.”
“You really
don’t realise just how important this is, do you?”
“Meet
alien race, make a good first impression, say all the right things, job done
and I go home with a nice story to tell.”
The
construct made a noise that might have been a sigh.
“The
Hordyxtl are not just an alien race. They are an ancient race, possibly one of
the first civilizations to have emerged within this galaxy; the Hordyxtl are one
of the Unfettered.”
“Ok,
meet ancient alien race, make a good
first impression, yadda yadda.”
“And there
is one thing I might not have mentioned.”
“Oh?”
“We are
the third Level Eleven civilization to attempt this. As far as we are aware, at
least two other Level Eleven civilizations have attempted to make contact with the
Hordyxtl during the last three centuries.”
“Why am
I not liking the sound of where this is going?”
“Just
over two hundred and eighty standard years ago, the Barandian Empire sent a
scout vessel into the nebula. When that vessel did not return, the Barandians
assembled an armada of vessels and confronted the Hordyxtl.”
“Barandian
Empire? Why doesn’t that name ring a bell?”
“The
Hordyxtl obliterated them. The fleet was reduced to dust before it even had a
chance to get within weapons range of the Ginobi nebula, several of the Barandian
perimeter systems were entirely obliterated by means as yet unknown and--”
“Wait,”
she said, holding her hand up to stop him.” are you telling me that the
Hordyxtl destroyed whole planets?
“No,”
replied the construct, dispassionately. “They destroyed stars.”
“And you
don’t know how?”
“We
have a number of theories.”
“But you
don’t know.”
“No.”
“You
said there were two attempts.”
“Yes.
The Moorovians made the most recent attempt, seventy three standard years ago.”
“Moorovians?
Small, blue, furry? Smell a bit like burnt toast?”
“Correct.”
“And
they’re still around. I mean, I’ve met a Moorovian” she pointed her index
finger at the construct. “That’s a good sign, right?”
“The
Moorovians, unlike the Barandians, are not a species geared towards warlike confrontations.
They acquired data on the nebula, and the Hordyxtl, from records on an old
Barandian orbital and sent a trade mission.”
“But? I
sense that there’s a but coming up here.”
“The
Moorovian vessel returned with its full complement of crew but they had all,
without exception, gone mad.”
“Mad?”
“Insane.
Crazy. Deranged. Psychotic--“
“I get
it. It wasn’t a question.”
“You
phrased it as one.”
She
ignored it. “And do we know why?”
“We
have several theories.”
“Such
as?”
“The primary
theory, with an estimate of 93.2% probability, is that the Hordyxtl naturally
excrete a series of chemicals through their skin which, when absorbed into the
system of other species serves to stimulate the amygdala region of their brain,
or the counterpart of the amygdala in other carbon-based lifeforms.”
“And in
plain English.”
“Those
who are in the presence of the Hordyxtl experience overwhelming fear.”
“And
you’re telling me this only now?”
“Our
projections suggested that this was the ideal time to inform you. Sooner than
this and there was the chance that you would worry and be distracted, later
than this and there was a chance you would not have time to adjust to the new
parameters of your mission.”
“So,
let me get this straight, you want me to go meet an alien race that has
destroyed one civilization and driven the members of another one mad?”
“Correct.”
“You
are a bunch of fuckers, you know that?”
The
construct stayed silent. She pinched the
bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, deep in thought.
“So why
now?”
“The
Hordyxtl relayed a message to us that they were prepared to engage in a
dialogue with us, provided we send a representative to them at precisely this
time. If we had missed this window of opportunity, we were uncertain as to the
timescale of another.”
“So why
not send a construct? Something not affected by the Hordyxtl?”
“That
was not, unfortunately, an option.” replied the construct, somewhat ruefully. “The
Hordyxtl appear to have a somewhat negative view of machine intelligence. They
were very clear in their message that no constructs – either humanoid or
ship-bound – were to come within a 6 AUs from the nebula.”
“Can’t
I just nano-bond something to override the effect?”
“Nano-bonding
requires a semi-sentient system to be positioned within your brain. We
determined that there was a chance that the Hordyxtl would interpret this as an
attempt to send a construct by proxy.”
“So I
just have to face it?”
“Exactly,”
the construct created a field screen and expanded it to fill the width of the
room. “If you like, I can show you the simulations that we have run on your
likely performance?”
“No,”
said Alana, with distaste. “Just tell me what to expect.”
“It is
difficult to predict with any real accuracy. Your brain will be flooded with
alien chemicals and you’ll likely experience both long-term memory recollection
and an intense fight or flight instinct. You may relive fearful experiences from
your past or hallucinate and experience new ones.”
“You
are just filling me with confidence, here.”
“Your
flippancy at this point is reassuring.”
“I can
still say no, can’t I?”
“Of
course.”
“But
you know that I won’t. You know I’m not the sort of person who can welch on a
deal.”
The
construct shrugged. “Our probability modelling suggested that would be the
case.”
“Fuckers.”
“Yes, I
suppose so.”
“And if
something goes wrong when I’m in there?”
“You revert
to the back-up you made before we departed.”
“A
back-up who won’t know any of this and wouldn’t remember what a bunch of
fuckers you are…”
“Correct.”
“You
realise if I was a different kind of person, I’d be kicking your metal ass
about now?”
“If you
were a different kind of person, you wouldn’t be here Alana.”
She
turned away from the construct and stared again at the field display that
showed the nebula, swirling gases and dust that seemed frozen from this
distance. There was a knot of tension in her midriff but she knew there was no
way she would turn back.
“Ok,
let’s do this.”
“You’re
ready?”
“I’m
ready.”
“Then I’ll
initiate the displacement.”
She
took one last look at the environment blister which had been her home for the
past nine days. There was a good chance she would never see it again.
“I’m ready
to face the fear.”
The
world faded to white.
