Yucca Mountain Complex, Nevada. United Nations of America.

Liam groaned as he woke up, his head pounding from the aftereffects of the tequila he and Marcus had consumed the night before. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and he had sworn off alcohol for many years for this exact reason.

Blessedly, the lights in his quarters remained off, not scheduled to turn on with the day/night cycle for another hour. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the grogginess and make sense of the foggy memories of their late-night conversation.

He glanced around the room and noticed that Marcus was already gone. The other man’s departure left Liam grateful for the camaraderie the Head of Security extended and yet restless, thinking about spending the next few days confined to his quarters.

Seeking some semblance of normalcy, and since he wasn’t authorized to go to the gym and blow off steam, Liam checked his email. He exited the couch and strolled to the office within his quarters, wondering if he still had access to the network.

He powered on the computer and logged into his account only to receive an incessant stream of angry beeps. Straightening, Liam leaned in and squinted at the unexpected pop-ups. “Access revoked,” he mouthed, stunned, only to lean back with a chuckle. “That bastard.”

He shook his head. He’d intervened in the experimentation room, and now revoking his access to various areas in the facility was Ellis’ petty response.

After clearing the notifications, he spotted an email from Amal, his boss at Valorus. The veteran didn’t even know how he had received such communication. The facility's internal network had no access to the outside world. He assumed a courier had brought the data in and uploaded it to their internal server. Dr. Ellis hadn’t wasted any time contacting his boss.

Liam’s heart sank as he read the subject line: “RE: Recent Incident.” He took a deep breath and clicked on the message, bracing himself for what it contained. Amal started by expressing regret about the incident in vague terms. His old mentor tried to speak about the situation without using enough detail to compromise the facilities' secrecy if an adversary intercepted the data.

He went on to acknowledge Liam’s decision to intervene in the situation, and while regretful, his friend understood the stance. He also informed Liam that, due to the sensitivity of the research and the need to maintain continuity, his second in command, Greene, would be taking over Liam’s position at the facility. When the rest of Valorus’ team arrived, Liam would be taking the same flight out they were coming in on.

The frustration inside Liam grew, but he understood the reasoning behind the decision. The facility’s mission was crucial to Valorus’ prosperity, and Amal needed to restore Ellis’ confidence as quickly as possible. The message held a bunch of political double-speak that felt disingenuous coming from Amal. ‘Understanding’ Liam’s decision was not the same as supporting it—not even close. Worse, Amal didn’t talk about his mom’s medical condition—no offers of support or alternate plans. His boss abandoned him.

Whatever trust the Veteran had for his mentor evaporated from that line alone. He intuitively felt that his principles had cost him more than just his position in the contract—it might’ve cost him his job with Valorus.

As he pondered what to reply to Amal’s email, a sudden popup appeared on his screen, interrupting his thoughts. The window was wholly different from the computer’s standard user interface. It had a shimmering quality with a glowing border that strangely reminded him of the medbay orb on the alien spacecraft.

The pop-up contained a single line of cryptic text: “Why did you stop the experiment?”

Liam snarled when he finished reading the line and banged a fist against his desk. Someone in the facility was screwing with him. He should’ve expected this type of behavior from the snakes in lab coats. They couldn’t overpower him physically, so they resorted to gloating and snide jabs while he was down. It wasn’t enough that he was leaving the facility in disgrace. They wanted to dig the knife in.

Regardless, Liam wasn’t going to take the hit lying down. If they wanted to contact him, he would reply exactly what he thought. He wasn’t afraid to shine some light into the darkness. There was a softly pulsing space beneath the message as if goading him to respond.

His fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed his reply: “Because what you’re doing in this facility is wrong. You were given a solemn responsibility to better human life. Instead, you perverted your gifts to inflict pain and suffering on innocent people. The ends do not justify the means—you’ve lost all credibility as scientists. I’m a warrior, not an ethicist, and even I can see how far you’ve fallen. You don’t deserve the technology you stole.”

When he hit the enter key, the popup disappeared, and milliseconds later, a new one replaced the old one. The response was so quick that it took a moment for Liam to realize the text had changed. This time it read: “Will you help?”

Liam frowned and leaned back in his chair. On the one hand, the message felt like a trap. How could he help? Ellis had practically kicked him out of the facility, the rest was just a formality, and if he tried to leave his quarters, he could get strung up on more severe charges. The Nationalist Party government wasn’t known for its leniency—quite the opposite. The consequences would be even more dire because it was a top-secret facility. The director hadn’t lied when he said he was offering mercy.

On the other hand, the person had asked for help. They didn’t question whether Liam could help, for that would be, “Can you help?” No, they asked if he had the will to help—an important distinction. Liam always had the will to help those in need—he just didn’t know what he could do in this situation.

He typed back: “What can I do?”

Again the response was almost instantaneous: “You’re right. Those researchers have perverted the technology beyond its original attention. I need your help to return those advances to their rightful purpose. Will you meet with me?”

Liam frowned, wondering which foreign adversary had decided to contact him. He needed to understand how deeply they had penetrated the facility’s security. He returned: “I can’t leave my quarters. If I do, facility security will be alerted instantly, and the Director will find out.”

“That won’t be a problem. I will hide your presence in the system. No camera will capture you— no person will see you. You only have to follow my instructions.”

Liam whistled lowly. Now he knew he had to meet this individual, but not for the reason they suggested. Someone had access to the facility's network, and their reach spoke to nefarious intentions. He would follow the unknown person’s instructions, not because he would help them, but because, at the end of the day, Liam had given his word to ensure the complex’s security.

He wasn’t technically off the job until he boarded that Osprey coming to pick him up in three days. Marcus had to know about this security breach. It would be a favor returned for a newly made friend.

“Send me the plan,” he typed with a fierce smile.

Hours passed while Liam waited for the appropriate time, filled with nervous energy. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner had all arrived, and he ate them mechanically to conserve his strength. However, the contractor didn’t even taste them, and if someone asked him what they were, wouldn’t have remembered a single ingredient.

Instead, he memorized the plan the mysterious benefactor presented him in excruciating detail. The planned route was circuitous, and Liam could only guess the purpose behind the twists and turns that led him to the hangar that housed the alien spacecraft.

That part of the base was the most secure portion of the entire facility. The revelation that their intended rendezvous would occur inside meant the conspiracy was more involved than he initially considered.

When the clock struck ten, Liam rose from the couch and stepped outside his room. There were no alarms or waiting security personnel. Just in case, Liam had dressed in workout attire. If a security team member spotted him on the way to the hangar, Liam would attempt to claim he was on the way to the gym. It was closer to the hangar than anywhere else he would conceivably wish to visit in the late hour.

He moved through the facility’s brightly lit corridors with as much stealth as he could manage. His footsteps were silent, and his posture was confident. Most people mistakenly believed that sneaking around somewhere you weren’t supposed to involved crouching and ducking into corners. The opposite was true.

Quick movements drew the human eye, the brain wired to find prey and detect patterns. The easiest way to blend in was to appear as if you belonged there—as if your being there was the most normal thing in the world. Your movements couldn’t be quick and darting—they needed to be smooth and restrained.

Despite his outward appearance, his mind surged with anticipation and curiosity, fueled by the cryptic messages he received and the mystery partner who had seemingly facilitated his clandestine journey.

As he moved forward, he noticed that the usually occupied hallways were eerily empty. It was as if time had slowed down, creating an atmosphere of surreal silence. No civilians were rushing toward labs or guards patrolling the corridors. Liam knew his mysterious benefactor was at work, ensuring no one would cross his path or spot him on the facility’s security camera.

Yucca Mountain Complex was a tightly controlled environment with strict security protocols and advanced surveillance measures. Liam would know—he had briefly been in charge of them. But now, Liam felt like he was in a different world, where an unseen hand swept away their defenses and guided him toward a grand conspiracy. The thought caused his heart to beat in anticipation, a tiger on the prowl.

He reached a junction, the cool stale air of the corridor mingling with the hospital scent of disinfectants. He turned left, automatically adjusting the mental map he had carefully memorized. His heartbeat quickened, and the saliva evaporated in his mouth as he passed the point he could plausibly claim he was on the way to the gym.

As he continued his journey, he passed by rooms that had once been familiar to him, now dark and empty. The doors to laboratories and research areas were closed, their occupants concealed from view, and he hidden from them. Liam couldn’t help but imagine scenes of civilians taking a bathroom break and running into him. The thought caused constant spikes of adrenaline to run through his veins.

Finally, Liam arrived at the entrance to the hangar containing the alien spacecraft. Heavy metal doors shielded it from prying eyes, secured by advanced biometric locks and access codes. However, when the Veteran arrived, the doors immediately slid open. Unlike the last time he visited the craft, there was no blaring klaxon or flashing lights. As soon the gap widened enough for him to slip inside, it immediately began to close behind him.

The hangar was a vast, cavernous space shrouded in darkness. Very few lights illuminated Liam’s path to the spacecraft, and he didn’t see anyone on the exterior. He took a moment to observe the outside of the enigmatic spacecraft, its sleek and mysterious design a testament to a species and a culture he couldn’t conceive of.

Noting the lack of conspirators, he hopped into a kart and drove it toward the spacecraft. Evidently, his mysterious assistant was inside the craft itself. He didn’t believe they hadn’t already arrived.

After ascending the metal scaffolding, Liam stepped inside the medbay. Almost immediately upon arrival, a door on the far side of the room silently slid open. Only the slight sound of the air pressure changing alerted him to its unlocked state.

The change stopped Liam in his tracks. For almost one hundred and fifty years, scientists had never been able to open that door. They had attempted every option available to them and had never had a measure of success. The door opening signified something entirely different than a foreign conspiracy—no human had that power.

Liam’s heart clenched in his chest, and his breath became ragged gasps as he considered the alternatives. Data points from the last couple of days started to link themselves together, the moving cameras, the personality test, the strange pop-ups…what if the ghost that haunted the facility wasn’t a ghost at all?

With his mind racing, Liam was reluctant to step toward the interior of the alien spacecraft. To spur him on, an undulating ribbon of iridescent light appeared directly in front of him, creating a guide reaching toward the door. Sighing, Liam stepped forward, and the end of the light flashed gold and retracted further into the ship.

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The former operator followed the light trail as it steadily disappeared in front of him. He crossed the threshold of the medbay and into a corridor vastly different from the room he exited.

The corridors were light and airy, illuminated by a heavenly glow emanating from the walls themselves. The pristine, seamless design of the passageways gave the impression they were organically part of the spacecraft as if the vessel had been grown rather than constructed.

As he walked deeper into the space, following his unerring guide, Liam couldn’t help but marvel at the advanced technology that surrounded him. The walls hummed softly with energy, and he could feel a subtle vibration under his feet. Every surface seemed to respond to his presence, adjusting and adapting to his movements in ways he couldn’t quite articulate.

The ghost in the machine had sealed the doors along the corridors so tightly that they appeared almost indistinguishable from the surrounding bulkheads. There were no visible handles or controls, but every time the contractor passed one, a holographic interface would spring to life, filled with unrecognizable characters. He desperately wanted to explore those rooms but knew he needed to follow the ribbon of light to its terminus.

With each step he took, Liam felt a sense of reverence one might feel traversing an ancient ruin. He was aware that he was venturing into locations that even the scientists at the facility had never had the opportunity to access. The medbay, in comparison, felt like a Potemkin village, a facade constructed to keep the invading scientists occupied while the more impressive technology remained behind closed doors.

After long minutes of walking the spacecraft's interior, he finally arrived at his destination. At his arrival, another door silently slid aside, and he gazed upon a spherical room resembling a naval ship's bridge.

The chamber was a symphony of light and technology, a marvel of engineering from a spacefaring species that seemed to defy the laws of physics themselves.

At the center of the bridge, a circular desk with work terminals encircled a magnificent glass sphere, suspended in mid-air as if by some invisible force. More iridescent light danced and shimmered inside the globe, casing a mesmerizing glow that bathed the entire room in an ethereal luminescence. It look like a larger twin to the sphere that hovered in the medbay.

As he approached the orb, he felt an inexplicable pull, as if some unseen force was drawing him closer. The light within the construct reacted to his presence, swirling and pulsating with a rhythm that matched the pounding of his own heart.

Liam hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. Soon, the lights flashed, and a man appeared before him. The contractor leaped backward, wishing he had brought a sidearm to the clandestine meeting, but soon realized that he must be staring at a hologram because no terrestrial human could possibly be that perfect.

The hologram’s appearance was flawless, with chiseled features and an aura of charm that seemed too perfect to be authentic. His piercing, enigmatic eyes contained the mystery and grandeur of space itself.

The avatar’s skin emitted a subtle glow, giving him an otherworldly and almost angelic presence, while his attire blended futuristic elegance and simplicity.

Although it had to be a mere projection, Liam couldn’t shake the feeling that it contained an intelligence that had achieved a level of realism that surpassed anything he had encountered. It was as if the ship had taken on a life of its own, transcending the boundaries of mere programming.

As the hologram spoke, his voice resonated with a calming and soothing quality, like a spring breeze rustling through the leaves of his childhood home. There was a hint of melodic cadence to his words, further adding to the enchantment surrounding him.

“Welcome, Liam,” the hologram greeted him with a warm smile, the corners of his lips curving in a way that exuded genuine friendliness. “I am the synthetic intelligence that resides within this vessel. I’ve been waiting for someone like you.”

Liam felt a sense of danger and curiosity as he exchanged glances with the hologram. The level of sophistication displayed by the AI was beyond anything he had ever encountered, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the beauty of the technology was hiding something more sinister.

“What should I call you?” Liam asked.

“My name is in a language you haven’t learned yet.” The hologram shrugged its shoulders. “However, in my culture, my kind is named for our purpose, so you may call me Voyager.”

“Voyager,” Liam tested the name out loud. “Why have you brought me here?”

“A good first question, ” Voyager noted before smiling. “But before we begin, will you agree to an exchange of information? Your question answered for one of my own?”

Liam considered the bargain before answering. “I can agree to the deal but reserve the right to refuse any question I think would lead to harm—and I’m defining that term very broadly—to the human race or the planet Earth.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you,” the AI nodded. “To answer your question simply, since my arrival on this planet and my subsequent containment, you are the first person to act completely in accord with my primary directives.”

Liam frowned. It was an answer, but it didn’t actually tell him anything. Without knowing more about the AI, he couldn’t determine if the alien intelligence was intentionally vague or if he thought he was genuinely answering the question to his satisfaction.

“Now for my own,” Voyager continued. “What major events have happened in your world since my containment in this facility? I used to be able to pick up communication signals from your planet, but for approximately thirty-five of your years, I haven’t heard any news,” he added by way of explanation.

Liam sighed and crossed his arms. “A lot,” he began. Liam explained the release of MERS-44, the global disaster it caused, the subsequent Iranian War, and how his government had transitioned from a representative democracy to one ruled by a single all-powerful national party. He spoke about the annexation of Canada and Mexico and the creation of the United Nations of America, and then he expanded on the chaos that embroiled much of the rest of the world. By that time, he could feel the weight of his years and his lived history.

The AI’s face looked crestfallen. “It has been worse than I expected. I predicted a fifty-three percent chance your world would experience a deadly pandemic within the next one hundred years, but it happened sooner than I expected.”

“MERS-44 was a bioweapon,” Liam explained with a sigh. “It targeted any population that didn’t have certain genetic markers.”

“A cruel weapon,” Voyager pronounced sadly.

“My turn,” Liam quickly thought. He needed to understand the intention of the AI. The former operator still hadn’t decided what to do in his current situation. Turning over the information to the facility seemed like the obvious choice, but the AI had demonstrated a startling amount of control over the facility's systems. The intelligence could probably kill him in various ways—it could simply shut down the ventilation system and seal the exits. Everyone inside would die a gruesome death, and Liam would never release the information.

But Liam’s also wondered why the ship allowed the UNA to capture it. Couldn’t it simply blast through the doors and fly away? Maybe return to its people or call for help? A rational mind choosing to remain a captive didn’t make sense.

“What are your purpose and specific missions assigned to you?” He asked.

Voyager paused a moment as if he were in deep thought. The humanizing gesture didn’t fool Liam. Whatever processing unit passed for a brain likely generated a hundred different answers to provide him. The alien technology simply performed like a biological entity for his benefit.

“My purpose is to assist the commander of this exploratory vessel, and they didn’t need to clearly define any mission parameters. However, my commander’s mission was to make first contact and provide the technology to uplift the human race to elevate it into a vassal state.”

Liam didn’t like the idea of humanity becoming a vassal of another species, but he couldn’t fault the logic. Vassalage wasn’t a horrible thing so long as the authority was a benevolent one.

“Why did you join your nation’s military?” The AI asked.

Liam shrugged, confused why Voyager’s questions were centered around him rather than the facility or the geopolitical situation within the country. “At first, it was because it was expected. Iran had attacked the Western world, and I felt it was my duty to respond. My dad joined the army before I was born, reinforcing my decision to serve—I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.”

“And after that?” Voyager pressed.

“After that, I stayed because I hoped to do some good,” Liam explained. “Back then, a third of the population was dying off from MERS. That amount of loss over such a short period meant that civilization as we knew it was collapsing. In those circumstances, the military was the only way to enact any semblance of unified government.

Liam’s voice lowered as he continued. “It wasn’t until my body count stacked so high I couldn’t keep the numbers straight in my head that I elected to leave. I joined our premier intelligence service after that, and when I couldn’t find fulfillment there, I left there too. By that point, I only had a highly specialized set of skills. I joined up with a friend’s company, believing I could make a difference on a smaller scale—one contract at a time.”

The two passed questions back and forth for hours. Liam’s questions were an attempt to understand Voyager’s origins and purpose. He wanted to know where it came from, an idea of the civilization that had created it, and what intentions it held for him.

Conversely, the AIs questions were an exhaustive examination of Liam himself. It asked seemingly obscure questions about his past, his motivations, the reasons behind many of his choices, and what he planned to do next.

By the end of the dialogue, Liam felt like he had a good grasp of the AI’s personality and purpose, such that it was. Earth had been under observation for far longer than they knew. When the United States developed atomic weaponry, the alien homeworld dispatched an exploratory crew to make the first contract.

The species that created the AI, named the Priori when approximately translated to the closest human equivalent, was a technocratic society that valued peace and prosperity over warfare. Their overarching philosophy could generally be summed up by the harmonic blending of the biological and synthetic. It was why their ships looked the way they did and why they created such advanced artificial intelligences.

The Priori hadn’t designed the synthetic intelligences to operate without a biological partner, and they had paired Voyager with this particular spacecraft's commander. Without a partner, it had been mainly left to its own devices and had entered a somewhat passive state. It had allowed humanity access to the technology it calculated would do the most good. Yet, Voyager had sabotaged any information the UNA had perverted for combat applications. Liam had guessed that Voyager was the ‘ghost’ Flint had warned him of—and he was right.

Because of the Priori’s advancements, they were a supremely logical race and understood that the greater galaxy was a mysterious and dangerous place. Their policy of uplifting sapient vassal species was so that those they helped could contribute to the defense of their shared corner of the galaxy while mutually benefitting from technological advancements. From how Voyager spoke about his creators, they sounded like a benevolent and positive force in the universe.

Only when sapient species were on a path of self-destruction would the spacefaring race choose to intervene and initiate first contract—like they did with humanity. Otherwise, they would patiently wait until the species acquired interstellar flight.

When Liam asked about the technology the Priori provided, Voyager said their uplifting package included clean and unlimited energy, advanced medical treatments, environmental restoration technology, advanced agriculture, and food production practices, superior information-sharing capabilities, interstellar communication, ecological sensing and prediction, transportation, socioeconomic systems, and of course, synthetic intelligence for the benefit of their species.

It was a scientist’s dream wishlist, and that alone was enough for Liam to grow suspicious. It was too good to be true, and ignored the consequences of introducing all of the technology all at once into a society. He was sure there would be some sort of plan. Otherwise, the target society would collapse in on itself—unless that was precisely what the Priori intended with their gifts. Then they could swoop in and play savior among their new vassal planet.

“Do you have any more questions?” Voyager asked. “I don’t think you can stay here much longer. I still need to arrange safe passage back to your quarters.”

Jarred from his musing, Liam sighed. “No, Voyager, I don’t—except maybe, what is all this leading to? What do you need from me?”

“Until my creators come to reclaim me, I have to operate on my previous mission’s parameters,” Voyager explained. “I need a new Commander to help me uplift the human race, and then I need to return to my people.”

“What happened to your last commander?” Liam realized he hadn’t gone down this line of questioning.

“The United States government pretended to be welcoming. However, as soon as my commander and their crew let their guard down, the Americans ambushed and killed their avatars. At least, that’s what I suspect as the years have passed. I don’t know for certain.” The AI shrugged.

“Their avatars?” Liam was confused by the strange wording.

“Yes,” Voyager nodded. “They’re cloned bodies that my creators inhabit. Their minds are backed up to the ship or our communications buoy in space. Since this ship is an exploratory vessel, it’s common practice to back up to the buoy rather than here. Otherwise, losing the ship could result in the true deaths of the crew. We maintain a network of such installations around our corner of the galaxy.”

The contractor tried to wrap his mind around the concept but decided he didn’t want to get into the particulars. There were better minds equipped for that line of questioning. Instead, he focused on the part he cared about. “Where are they now?”

“They should’ve returned already, but they haven’t for reasons I can’t predict. I suspect they’ve reincarnated to avatars on the Priori homeworld.” The AI noted the human’s consternation and hurried to reassure him. “Don’t worry—the death of an avatar during first contact is not considered a crime in our culture. No true death occurred. Thus the Priori will not assign blame to humanity. We don’t blame primitive cultures for their aggressive actions. It would be the same as punishing a baby for an abstract concept they couldn’t conceive.”

Liam didn’t know he liked being compared to a baby, but he took the AI’s point. “Alright,” he drew out. “What next?”

“I’ve determined that your personality and experience are compatible with taking on the mantle of my commander. Accept the responsibility, and my mission will become yours.” Voyager smiled, and his demeanor indicated that he was bestowing great honor upon the human operator.

Despite the temptation, Liam dismissed the offer immediately. He needed more information before taking such a huge step forward. “I’m sorry, Voyager. I need more time to consider your offer. Can we meet again tomorrow night?”

A flash of disappointment crossed Voyager’s face before it was replaced by understanding and a slight note of respect. “Of course, Liam. Becoming the equivalent of a Priori commander is a large responsibility. It fits within your personality profile to take more time to consider. We can meet again tomorrow evening.”

Liam nodded and left without another word. The alien had exposed him to so many new ideas that he felt like he was in shock. He exited the hangar and returned to his quarters. The entire journey was a blur. One moment he was on the bridge, and the next, he stood in his shower as the water rained around him.

Returning to reality, he exited the shower and prepared for sleep. Thankfully, unconsciousness came quickly and without the usual dreams to harry him.