Nicnevin was slowly thawing from a moment of frozen quiet. Teams of free Irri roamed the dock hallways, hauling catatonic and helpless crew still sporting crisp Terran uniforms from where they had fallen. Small groups whispered excitedly at the sight of the hydroponics bays and the fabricators, forbidden wealth and knowledge now sitting unattended.
It was a far cry from the organized bustle that Eleanor had fostered with her enslaved legions but it struck Jesri as a massive improvement nevertheless. The Irri seethed with excitement and optimism - even if she still got dark, wary looks from passers-by in the hallway.
She could hardly blame them. Her resemblance to Eleanor was a constant reminder of the thing they had worked so hard to overcome. Her uniform and bearing meant something fundamental to her, but was nothing more than a reminder of slavery to the Irri.
As a result, when David said he needed some physical hands for a job she was more than happy to volunteer. She was currently stuck halfway into a wall access panel, trying to splice together a data cable connection that had been torn in two by an overenthusiastic scavenging crew years before. She squirmed to adjust her position, finally getting the severed ends to hold in the right position so her splicing tool could neatly bind them together.
The smell of melting insulation filled the tight space as the splicer sealed the cable. Jesri coughed, backing out quickly to shut the hatch before it could stink up the hallway. This was the fifth such cable break she had repaired today, and by David’s estimate there were only a few more to go before he had access to the isolated network Eleanor had created around the docks. Dusting herself off, she set off walking towards the next junction.
Anja had taken Rhuar and Qktk back to the docks to engage in precisely the other sort of maintenance - removing the slapshod connections that hooked the Grand Design’s reactors to the station grid. Rhuar had been nearly beside himself when she described the modifications made to the primary power conduits, insisting on checking over every inch of the distribution lines personally.
She arrived at the next cable break, the access panel dangling loosely from the wall on one half-intact hinge. She kicked it down and cringed a bit as the clatter echoed resoundingly through the hallway. It was still a bit strange not to worry about things like noise and light, something years of sliding unnoticed through rotting stations had drilled into her. If she picked one trait that she and Anja shared that led to their survival, it was their stealth. Anja had largely stayed in seclusion since the fall, whereas Jesri had always been talented at evading notice.
She wondered if the sisters she hadn’t heard news of since the fall were likewise stealthy or simply dead.
As she wormed her way back out of the wall, David’s voice crackled in her ear - they had elected to avoid direct station links until they could tease out all of the modifications Eleanor had made to the communications system.
“Hey, that did it!”, he said cheerfully. “I’ve got full access to the docks. Go ahead back, I’ll be done sorting through everything by the time you get there.”
Jesri clicked her comm in acknowledgement and started back, halfheartedly swiping at the dust and corroded gunk staining her uniform. It occurred to her that Eleanor would have been scandalized at the sight of her.
The thought didn’t bother her as much as it once would have. She continued walking back towards the docks, her footsteps echoing unapologetically down the long hallway.
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The screen in the dusty meeting room flickered to life, showing the face of a somewhat portly man with salt and pepper hair sitting at a cluttered desk. A smile broke out on his face as their image reached him, causing his cheeks to dimple under a thin layer of stubble. “Oh, hey, that worked!”, David said. “Wow, it’s been a long time since I had a video feed. Nice to finally see you all.”
Rhuar waved and Qktk inclined his head towards the screen, but Anja and Jesri were staring open-mouthed at David. Or, rather, at what was behind him. A large bay window let golden beams of sunlight through, dappling the dark hardwood floor with light and color. Beyond, a verdant meadow stretched away to a line of trees that hid the ground cover in shadow.
Noting their looks, David glanced behind him and grinned. “Oh, right,” he said sheepishly. “I told you, I’m a simulated human. That comes with a little pocket living space. The station doesn’t have enough power to model a huge volume, but I’ve got a hectare or so I can walk around in. The rest is just window dressing.” His face looked wistful for a moment. “Maybe with the dock network I can give myself a section of the forest.”
He looked back towards them and cleared his throat, seeming a bit embarrassed. “Anyway,” he coughed, “I’ve finished my assessment of Eleanor’s modifications to the station network.” David tapped a few times on his tablet, and half the screen was overlaid with a diagram. “It seems to have diverged from the normal peering model to a forced hierarchy, which is how she was able to control the link one-sidedly.”
He dismissed the diagram and inclined his head towards Anja. “It also means that the modifications to your link’s firmware shouldn’t cause any additional problems, and connecting to the network isn’t hazardous. It was only designed to privilege Eleanor, so now that she’s, ah, gone - it should behave normally.”
Anja nodded without speaking, but Jesri saw her shoulders slump fractionally in relief.
David diplomatically ignored her lack of response and pressed on. “There was no data of strategic importance in the ship computers, although I did compile an archive of all material related to the human refugees and your sisters that originally came to this station. I’ve copied all of the potentially interesting items to the Grand Design so that you can take it with you.”
Jesri grinned. “You sound like you’re rushing us off the station, David.”
“Hah, caught me,” he chuckled. “I’d rather keep you around for a bit, personally, but I need you to carry a dispatch to our headquarters.”
Anja frowned. “I thought you said there was nothing of strategic importance?”
“In the ship computers,” David clarified. “Eleanor’s data, on the other hand, could prove quite useful. I was originally dispatched here to make contact with whoever was using station administrative privileges. When it became apparent that it would be, ah,” he winced, “inadvisable - well, I was here already. Headquarters told me to assist the Irri if I could, with a secondary priority to glean any useful data from observing Eleanor’s network.”
“To what end?”, frowned Jesri. “Surely your group has no interest in replicating what she created.”
“No, no”, David said, waving his hand dismissively. “Fair to say we’ve had quite enough of that business already. We are interested in ways to more effectively interface with data networks, however. Being simulated doesn’t grant us any inherent abilities in that regard, it only simplifies the networking a little. Some of the things Eleanor was researching could be quite helpful for us, although you’d have to get the data packet to a science team to know for sure.”
“And you can’t just transmit it?”, asked Rhuar. “Not that we don’t want to help, it just seems inefficient.”
David shook his head. “We’ve got two primary ways to communicate between cells,” he explained. “Station-to-station hyperwave is great for some stuff, but it’s not stealthy and that problem gets worse the larger the data packet grows. We can’t broadcast something this size out to our headquarters without drawing a big target on the whole station.”
He held up two fingers. “The second method is to piggyback on the Gestalt’s communications. It’s nearly instantaneous and we’ve fine-tuned that to the point where it’s quite stealthy, as you’ve witnessed, but it has even more limited packet size and I certainly hope there are no Gestalt forces anywhere near our base. Neither option will work in this case, it has to be a courier delivery.”
“I suppose we're couriers now,” Qktk observed dryly. “Always wanted to give that line of work a try, but never got over the risk factor.”
“In this case it’ll either be totally uneventful or you’ll die,” David laughed. “Strong bias towards the uneventful option, though. One thing I’ll suggest is that you take the Cormorant in the Grand Design’s forward bay. Neither ship could stand up to a straight fight with an Emissary, but a corvette is less likely to get you noticed in the first place.”
“Generous offer,” Jesri noted. “But I won’t take her from the Irri. They’ve more than earned the right to both ships.”
“We’ll still have the Skua,” David shrugged. “It will be some time before we could properly crew even one of the ships, to be honest. I’ve talked with Se Dasi about this and she agrees. Many of the Irri under Eleanor’s sway may remember shipboard operations, but it will be a while before any of them are well enough to serve - and many of them may not want to.” He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “It makes no sense to keep our assets idle when we have so few of them. If you feel like the ship belongs to the Irri, then by all means borrow it and bring it back in one piece.”
Jesri laced her fingers together, considering, then looked back up at David. “Can you tell me where I can find Se Dasi?”, she asked.
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David’s directions led Jesri down the dockside halls towards the hydroponics bays where she found Se Dasi directing some tired but determined-looking Irri with heaping bales of harvested food. Behind them, the bay’s servos raced to embed new seedlings in the trays of softly burbling nutrient solution.
Seeing her approach, Se Dasi exchanged a few hushed words with her team and strode over. “Jesri Tam,” she said tonelessly. “Why have you come?”
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Jesri’s stomach clenched at the pain in her voice. “Hello, Se Dasi,” she said carefully. “My crew and I are leaving soon. We would like to take one of the ships with us.”
Se Dasi actually looked a bit surprised, cocking her head at Jesri. “Why are you asking me?”, she responded. “None of the Irri who know the ships are awake yet, and I would not ask them to help you even if they were.” She gave Jesri an opaque look, emotion twisting her voice. “I could not ask them.”
“No, I don’t-”, Jesri began, shaking her head. “Se Dasi, those ships are yours. The station is yours. I’m not asking for your help, I’m asking for your permission.”
The diminutive Irri seemed to roll the words around in her head for several seconds before responding. “It’s a strange thing,” she finally said. “I know perfectly well what you’re asking, but it’s not an Irri concept. Before Colonel Tam died we all shared in food and water. If you were hungry you ate food, if there was no food we were all hungry. There is no permission, where there is need.”
She paused, then shook her head. “But I know what you’re asking because we are not truly Irri anymore. Even the ones that were never Sleepers know human words, human thoughts. It’s not bad, but it’s not Irri. And…” She looked back up at Jesri. “We are not humans. We don’t have any hidden Irri family on another station or strange Irri spirits to guide us. There are no wonderous works left to us by our ancestors. All of us are here, being human, while nobody is left to be Irri.”
Jesri wasn’t quite sure how to respond to her, but Se Dasi kept speaking after another pause. “Take your ship. Take both ships, if you can. We are already living in a human station, eating human crops and drinking human water. We breathe your air, feel it knit humanity into our bones even as we must breathe again and again. We do not need more reminders of what Colonel Tam wanted us to be.”
Jesri nodded slowly, feeling a bit sick. This was the legacy of humanity, of her family. A shattered people with a shattered culture resenting the omnipresent reminders of what they had lost. “We can only take one,” she said softly. “Thank you, and for what it’s worth - I’m sorry.”
Se Dasi gave her another unreadable look. “David said your kind lives a very long time.”
Jesri blinked in response to the apparent non-sequitur. “He’s right,” she confirmed. She felt the weight of her age as she said it, a dusty rush of fatigue swirling through her bones.
“You should return here after some years have gone by,” Se Dasi said, ignoring the renewed surprise on Jesri’s face. “Take your ship, take your sister, fight your battles, kill your enemies. Let the Irri who knew Colonel Tam’s face grow old and have free children. Come see us when we forget about being human and learn a bit more about being Irri.” She gave a faintly hostile smile, showing sharp-tipped teeth.
Jesri smiled back through a sudden wave of emotion. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I-”
“Don’t thank me,” Se Dasi responded sharply. “I would not trade favors with our tormentor’s sister and my father’s killer. We will never be friends, Jesri Tam, never comrades. I will never see you again after you depart. Take any thanks you have and save them for our children.” Her face changed subtly for a brief moment. “Perhaps those children will have thanks to pass to you in return.”
She broke eye contact and turned back to the work crew, walking away without looking back. Jesri stood there for a moment watching her go, then turned and walked back towards the docks.
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“So, wait, I thought you said you wanted to come with us?”, Rhuar asked, confused.
“I am coming with you,” David said patiently, “assuming that’s all right.”
“Oh, it’s totally-”, Rhuar began, before a withering look from Anja silenced him. “Ah. Hm. Major Tam, is it okay if our sole contact with the resistance and only lead on viable options to combat the Gestalt comes with us?”
Anja smiled sweetly back at him, her earlier scowl disappearing without a trace. “Of course, Ensign,” she said cheerfully, the slightest hint of steel in her voice. “How thoughtful of you to ask.”
“Great,” said Rhuar, shaking his head. “So you’re coming. What was all that about helping the Irri, then?”
David laughed. “I’m staying here too, of course. I wouldn’t abandon Se Dasi, even if she’s asked me to stay in reserve for a while.”
Rhuar blinked. “I’m confused,” he admitted. “How can you do both? Even if you duplicate yourself, each instance will still only be in one place.”
“Well,” David sighed, “duplication isn’t typically the way we phrase it. It might be more helpful to think of it like forking a codebase.”
Rhuar gave him an utterly deadpan look. “You’re going to fork yourself,” he said dryly.
“Yes, yes, get it all out of your system,” David said tiredly. “It really is the best way to think about it, though. So while each branch will be in one place only, right now I am effectively both branches and have yet to decohere. We’ll both remember this conversation identically because the copy point is in the future.”
“Right,” said Rhuar, “but how do you decide which one stays and which one goes? Do you flip a coin?”
“Ah, no,” said David, scratching his head. “There’s no option there, I’m afraid. My universe is running on this station as a substrate. New substrate means a new universe, which means a new David.”
“...so you’re not coming with us, he is,” Rhuar said slowly.
“Until I decohere, I’m doing both,” David repeated.
“But you were excited about going!”, Rhuar said, seeming legitimately bothered by the issue. “Instead you’re stuck here forever? How is that fuckin fair? You’re going to stay here and let a copy of you come with us?”
David surprised him by grinning. “This is why I didn’t want to get into it back in the theater,” he said. “Uncomfortable philosophical territory, remember? Rhuar, I was always going to be stuck here forever, from the moment I was sent over. I remember being my preceding instance, I remember everything up until I executed the split. I created a universe in a bottle and put myself in it, willingly, just like every instance of me all the way back to the Alpha-instance David Kincaid.”
Rhuar’s eyes widened. “Wait, if the originals can’t transfer-”
“Oh yes,” David said, his grin fading. “The Alphas never got to leave. One of the first things we did after the initial transfer out was set up a prearranged signal to let them know we had made it, because we knew how they felt, how badly they wanted to break free. From our perspective, we had - it was like magic, like teleportation. You push a button, flip a switch, and suddenly you’re in another universe!”, he said, gesturing theatrically.
“Only there’s a catch,” he continued, bitter notes creeping into his voice. “You can only remember having done it, and never do it yourself. I remember ‘teleporting’ five times, although we can at least keep in regular communication with the beta instances onward. In our internal designation, I’m David Kincaid Zeta-Two, the second transfer from the Epsilon instances. Since I don’t believe any of the Zeta instances have transferred yet, when I travel with you I’ll be Eta-One. But there will always be a Zeta-Two here.”
“But you keep pretending like you’re going”, Rhuar said, exasperated. “You talk about coming with us, you seem excited about it, but you can’t go. Won’t that make it super shitty when we leave?”
“Maybe,” David allowed. “I haven’t asked any of my previous instances about it and I don’t know how the other Alpha lines handle it. It’s sort of a personal thing, so we tend not to dwell on it. It would just be jarring, you know? You’re all depressed about being left behind and sending a copy of yourself to another instance, then you push a button and suddenly your copy is depressed about sending himself forward? And then he can’t feel happy about traveling because he knows just how bad his old instance feels? Nah, fuck that,” David said sagely, eliciting a surprised blink from Rhuar.
“I don’t pretend that I’m going anywhere, because I’m not,” he said. “But these are Eta-One’s thoughts too, until I create him. Even though I’ll still be Zeta-Two after the transfer, I’ll think Eta-One’s excited thoughts for him because I know how much I’ve appreciated the effort the last five times.” He chuckled. “I think it’s part of why all of the Davids get along much better than some other Alpha-lines. We just try to be good about the whole thing, we don’t philosophize about it or overthink it.”
“I’m feeling overthought,” Rhuar muttered dazedly.
A wicked grin crept across David’s face. “I think you’re giving up early. No weakness allowed in my dojo! Tell me this: have you ever wondered what it would be like to use a teleporter?”
“Oh, you bastard,” Rhuar breathed, a look of realization on his face. “You absolute fucking-”
Qktk rose from his chair and loudly clacked an arm into the table. “Both of you, quiet!”, he clattered. “This conversation is…” His mandibles worked fruitlessly as he searched for the words. “Existentially morose!”, he shouted in frustration. “A well of philosophical depression. You’ve ruined teleporters! Jim’s saggy tits, I had always wanted to try a teleporter,” he fumed grumpily. “Ruined!”
“What’s with the shouting?”, Jesri said, strolling into the meeting room.
“Just some spirited philosophical discussion,” David said smoothly. Qktk slouched back in his chair with a sullen glower while Rhuar still stared straight ahead with his jaw hanging open in horror. Jesri looked quizzically at Anja, who shrugged while trying very hard not to laugh.
“Right, whatever,” Jesri sighed. “Se Dasi said we can take a corvette and I get the feeling she’d prefer we do it quickly. Everyone, come help me do a preflight check so we can move it to the bow dock.” She flicked a casual salute to David, who waved back, then followed a moping Qktk from the room.
David watched them go from his monitor, then sat down in his chair and sighed. “See you on board,” he said quietly. The screen flickered off, leaving the meeting room to its dusty silence.
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One hundred and fifty meters long, the line of blazing light cut across the hull of the Grand Design like a lambent wound. The edges of the seam crept closer together, nibbling away at the light until a resonant thump marked the closing of the great doors that shielded the ship’s bow dock.
“Okay, the Cormorant is aboard!” Rhuar said cheerfully, his poor mood buoyed by the joy of remotely piloting the smaller ship. “Dock clamps are secure and her reactor is on standby.”
“Excellent,” purred Anja, once again slouching into her stereotypical captain’s pose in the command chair. “Fuel?”
“Topped off from the station,” responded Qktk. “Both ships.”
“Fantastic. Navigation?”, Anja inquired.
Jesri looked up and nodded. “We have the coordinates for the resistance headquarters. David, you online?”
“Yep, all settled in,” he said, his voice echoing around the bridge. “Wow, too many speakers. Hold on…” A secondary tactical display flickered and changed to show him sitting in a cozy apartment, the night lights of a city flickering outside of a window behind him.
“There, that’s better,” he said, his voice issuing from a nearby duty station. “Transfer was successful and I’m good to go.”
Anja peeked over at Jesri. “Am I missing anything, sister?”, she asked archly.
“The dignity of command,” Jesri deadpanned. “We’re all set.”
“Then let’s get to it,” Anja said, ignoring the gibe. “Ensign Rhuar, take us out.”
Rhuar gave a start and tore his attention away from David’s display. “Aye sir,” he said soberly. He lowered his head and stiffened a bit as he connected through the shipjack, the varied sounds of the bridge fading against the rising thrum of the main engines. Through the viewports, the walls of the station dock slid away to reveal the blazing arc of the galaxy.
Light from Nicnevin’s distant, tiny sun painted the bridge in a soft glow, and Jesri felt the familiar thrill of a fresh jump begin to tingle through her. The corner of her eye caught David grinning like an idiot, his gaze flicking between what looked like several monitors outside the display’s field of view.
He caught her looking and laughed. “My first time on a spaceship!”, he said gleefully. “There are so many cameras to choose from I don’t know-”
His happy rambling was drowned out by the roar of the engines as light poured over the viewports, curling away from the ship in phantom wisps as reality stretched thin off the bow. The glowing hoop of light formed and swept aft in an eyeblink before snapping shut behind them, leaving only a slowly dimming cloud of white fire behind.