Chapter Sixty-Five

Blaring alarms and a cacophony of voices filled the area from above, letting themselves into the ship from the opening in the shield that Viktoriya created.

Everything had moved so fast, and perhaps she was still in shock from what had happened, from the creature attacking her and from CLEFF’s fierceness to protect her.

He held her to his chest and rewound his line, lifting them back to the surface through the same opening they had entered.

She rose to her feet, standing on top of the enemy craft she defeated. Again, her knees buckled, causing her to stagger, but CLEFF’s hands were there for her. He was her support, and she knew it. She relaxed in his embrace, then struggled to rise again.

Her thoughts were blank.

Everything was blank, and the one thing she understood more than anything was that she needed to breathe. She must close her eyes, breathe in the fresh air.

“CLEFF, you’re the bad-ass; that dude never stood a chance,” she said, smiling weakly.

He stood beside her, arms ready to catch her again if she fell.

She did, as she said once more, “I, I still feel sick. I think I’m gonna throw up again,” as she let him hold her steady, not trusting her legs to keep her just yet.

He held her for a long second, and she felt safe.

His metallic embrace was all that she needed to feel that she was safe and away from danger, no matter what else was happening.

She raised her gaze to catch the android eyes staring back at her as she allowed her eyes to close slowly.

“Please, take me down from here.”

Breathe. Breathe. She told herself, sucking in a lung full of frigid air, then another.

Everything settled.

She could sense the presence of something. The familiar flash-out feeling she knew very well; however, she was wide-eyed and conscious. She felt the Spectrum, the presence entangling with her, hanging on her.

She made her way past the men on the icy ground who each tugged her coat to ask how she was, but she only gave a nod before moving on toward the drop-barracks.

“Look! Look at her hands!” one soldier exclaimed, pointing toward her.

“Hey, I’m sorry, Miss Viktoriya, could I get a picture with—”

“Please, stop touching me!” Victoriya said.

“Halt! Step away, please!” CLEFF boomed so loudly all the soldiers jumped at the command.

She still felt the almost silent calling, almost like an internal tug, or as though something was working on her instincts as she cleared the front lines filled with soldiers. She closed her eyes.

“You lied to me,” she snapped. There was silence. Her heart pounded. She felt the presence—feeling the gaze from everywhere and nowhere.

“That is not possible. I did not lie, Viktoriya,” the voice said, coming calmly, unflustered.

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“Xiin, why did the alien ship have shields made from the same quantum plasma as the web? When we met, you said that they could not connect with the Spectrum?” she narrowed her gaze even though she saw no one. She only heard the voice coming from everywhere.

“Viktori-Ya, who are you speaking with?”

“They cannot embrace the Spectrum; instead, they interface mechanically or programmatically to make some use of the Spectrum. They mimic what they can in an attempt to leverage our own gifts against us,” Xiin continued.

“Guys, look—who the hell is she arguing with?”

She opened her mouth to contest again but was cut short by Xiin’s words.

“Viktoriya, more are coming, heading to Earth. This one has beckoned them, signaled by this awakening. They cannot Spectrum travel yet, so it will take a considerable time for them to arrive. Even so, you must warn your people to prepare.”

That information took hold of her attention, and she opted for a different question than the one she had planned.

“Xiin, what’s happening to me? The shield and my hands? And the way everything seemed to slow down around me… Does this have something to do with quantum physics tied to the Spectrum? It felt like I was—” she paused as though trying to find the words, then said, “I was a part of the Spectrum, or it was a part of me?”

“What is she doing? Who the hell is she talking to?” another man exclaimed.

She did not want to think about what Xiin had said. She refused to dwell on how many more enemy aliens may be headed their way. She had said it would take time before they arrived, so she would hope it took them very long. Long enough, where perhaps she would have finally gotten a grip on what was happening to her and prepared others for the attack. Or perhaps long enough, they would have successfully launched for HH190.

“Viktoriya, you are unique in the universe. Your consciousness is not constrained by what your kind describes as typical, rigid logic and formal interpretation. In the same way a visual mathematical problem is simply understood by minds that can comprehend it. Similarly, you are deeply interconnected to the Spectrum.”

She could not help the sideways smile that curled over her face. An almost involuntary smile reaffirmed something that she had known all her life.

She was, indeed, different.

The smile faded when she touched on the thought—the burden that came with being on the Spectrum in such a way.

She had always been different. Being neuroatypical and having autism had made sure of that. That was an extension of her persona, but Viktoriya had determined to come into this on her terms, not at the mercy of any bully.

This was about the world and the entirety of humanity itself. This was about Viktoriya and that she was the singularity of the universe. The only one of her kind.

She began to realize that her marginalized, HFA life may have been to prepare her for her next life, her new life on the Spectrum.

More were on the way.

To destroy what they had built.

To bring the End of All for her and the ones she loved.

She clenched her teeth as the men filled the empty chamber, one of them wrapping a blanket around her, which she quickly yanked away.

“Please stop handling me!”

The soldier was only trying to be helpful and kind, but he didn’t understand the intrusion she felt and the complications that marginalized people must deal with in cases like that. But he was not judgmental or critical of her. She’d been through a lot, of course, and she was probably still on edge from it all.

“I, I’m sorry,” she said, then breathed deeply, looking into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“CLEFF, I must rest. I need to lie down, someplace warm; I’m feeling—I’m acting funny, and I don’t know why.”

Mike, the site commander, walked to them as his men stepped away to give them some space.

“Miss Kuzland, I’m very sorry to interrupt, but if you would allow me, if it would be okay, I’ve ordered a drop-in modular bunker, very well furnished and heated, just for you and CLEFF.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you so much; I would really, really like that,” she exhaustedly whispered to him, again looking someone in the eyes. She surprised herself, and her head twitched when she realized she had fixed her gaze on him for a moment before involuntarily jerking her view away.

“Please, you can call me Mike. It will be here in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Mike. You can call me Viktoriya.”

She walked back to the young man who had tried to give her the blanket and said, “Hey. I’m sorry for the way I behaved. Would you like a selfie together?”

“You, too,” she motioned to the soldier who first asked for a picture with her. “Come over here, please.”

A line formed to take selfies with her, one that she was now happy to take part in.

She was happy to be involved in the joy and connection of those now seeking a bond and closeness with their Viktoriya.

She knew that she was there for them, it was her purpose. They looked to her for their deliverance. This is why she was here.

These were, after all, her people.

And she took selfies with them.

And she enjoyed it.