Requiem: Aurora Resonant Book Three (Aurora Rhapsody 9) Read online

  He exhaled and brought both hands up to the sides of her face then wound them into her hair, drawing her closer until his lips hovered scant centimeters from hers. “You know what? In this moment, being here, seeing you, touching you…I don’t care either.”

  2

  PALAEMON

  ANARCH POST EPSILON

  MILKY WAY SECTOR 17

  * * *

  ODD SENSATION, the weight of tangibility.

  The molecules comprising the air fought her existence among them; the resistance was trivial, but she felt its pressure all the same. It made her feel real. It was exquisite.

  Valkyrie took a step forward. Technically, she needn’t step to move—but apparitions glided, and she had not invested such great effort in learning this skill to be a mere apparition.

  The absence of the cushioned tile pushing against her presence displeased her, and she hurriedly returned the collection of agitated particles that created a representation of a ‘foot’ to the walkway. The resumption of the walkway’s texture in her perception was…interesting.

  She lifted an arm and stretched it out in front of her. Golden-bronze points of light shimmered and pulsed, flowing in calm ripples while maintaining a cohesive whole…mostly. The arm was hollow, and the particles formed a porous, translucent shell around nothing. But it nevertheless acted as an extension of her identity. So very interesting.

  Her gaze—itself a collection of particles honed into perception filters—drifted beyond her arm to the expanse of scenery ahead. In the distance, past the ring of landing pads, Kennedy and Noah sat at one of the patio tables eating breakfast. Perfect!

  This not being a physical, human body constrained by muscular ranges of motion or skeletal interlocking, her presence cascaded forward in a blur of steps, and the next second she stood beside the patio table. “Good morning.”

  Kennedy jumped in surprise, sending her fork clattering to her plate as she jerked back, eyes wide. Noah simply regarded Valkyrie with interest.

  Kennedy cleared her throat, belatedly adopting a semblance of composure. “I’m sorry, we’re not familiar with your species…?”

  “Of course you are. I’m Valkyrie.”

  “Alex’s Valkyrie?”

  “Among other attributes, yes.”

  Noah tilted his head, nodded to himself, and settled back in his chair. “Sure. Makes sense.”

  Kennedy frowned. “Dare I ask how? And what? And…never mind, I can guess why.”

  “Certainly you may ask. Mesme has been instructing me on the process required to instantiate one’s consciousness in the physical world. This is my first venture outside of the Siyane.”

  “Oh. How fascinating.” With the initial misunderstanding resolved, Kennedy began to study her curiously. Valkyrie made a note to plan such introductory encounters better in the future. “This is impressive.”

  “Thank you. How do I look?”

  “Um, great, I think. The sun rising behind you is kind of washing you out, so the details are a bit indistinct.”

  Unacceptable. She focused inward and drew more power to the space within the boundaries of her presence.

  “Much better.” Kennedy seemed to remain confused, however. “Are you wearing a helmet?”

  Noah rolled his eyes. “It’s a Norse winged helmet with a bronze finish. She’s a valkyrie.”

  “And you will fill me in later on how it is you randomly know what a valkyrie’s helmet looks like.”

  “If you make it worth my while. Valkyrie, you said Mesme was teaching you how to project yourself, but the Kats don’t speak audibly. Did you figure that part out on your own?”

  “Ah, yes. I extrapolated the method to do so from the scientific principles underlying the projection mechanics. The Kats suffer no limitations that would render them unable to vocalize, so why they choose not to do so, I cannot say.”

  Kennedy scowled. “I can. Forcing their words into your head makes them seem mysterious and enigmatic. It’s a power play.”

  “Likely so. I did not want to be rude and presume as much to others.” Valkyrie moved forward several centimeters. “Pardon me, but do you mind if I touch the table?”

  Kennedy grinned. “Not at all. You can do that?”

  “I believe…” she extended an arm until her ‘fingertips’ hovered just above the table “…I can.” She lowered the appendage digits until the first particles made contact with the synthetic polymer of the table surface.

  Resistance. Tactile pressure. Tangibility. Physicality.

  She smiled, though without consciously directing the composition of her face to alter in such a manner. “Yes, I affirmatively can. May I hold your fork?”

  Kennedy picked it up and held it out toward her. “Of course.”

  ‘Holding’ was a more advanced act than ‘touching,’ and she was forced to concentrate quite hard on maintaining sufficient coherence in her hand and fingers to ensure the fork did not slip through. Kennedy kept two fingers on the fork until her outstretched appendage solidified. When she withdrew them, the fork remained suspended in midair, encased in Valkyrie’s hand.

  Joy. This sensation was joy.

  Or possibly delight.

  “Do you want to—I guess you probably can’t eat, can you?”

  “No.” She carefully placed the fork down on Kennedy’s plate, pleased when it only lightly clanged. “Aside from the obvious fact that I do not require organic nourishment, I lack any taste mechanisms. I would experience the food as an object, but it would not convey any characteristics beyond density and weight. Nevertheless, what is it you are eating?”

  Kennedy made a face of mild disgust. “Noah talked me into trying some of their food—the Anadens’ food, not the more-alien aliens’ food. It’s a popular breakfast dish of…” she poked at the spongy, yellowish blob with a tine of her fork “…I honestly don’t know.”

  Valkyrie directed her perception filter particles to the item of food. “It is a berry fruit of tropical origin, with a thin skin covering and ample flesh of a soft but meaty texture—” She stopped and began again. “It’s similar to a sweet eggplant.”

  Noah lifted his hands. “See? That doesn’t sound too awful now, does it?”

  “Enh.” Kennedy set her fork on the plate and looked up at Valkyrie. “Is Alex still on the Siyane?”

  “Yes. Little of me remains there while I am occupying this persona, so she is monitoring the ship’s vital functions.” Valkyrie shifted her focus toward the landing pads and the Siyane. “Not much is happening at present, and nothing apt to tax the ship’s systems, so everything should be fine. I ought not to stay gone for too long, however. She is anxious enough already without me adding to her concerns.”

  “Anxious about her dad? Did something bad happen with the transfer or the…awakening? Did he come back wrong?”

  Noah burst out laughing. His chin hurriedly dropped to his chest as he tried to subdue the laughter. “I’m sorry. I know this is a serious matter. But he’s not a zombie…” his lighthearted expression began to darken “…is he?”

  “No. All of our—Alex, Caleb and my own—interactions with him yesterday suggested the transfer was a complete success. I’m afraid she is rather more anxious about her mother. I normally would not share such a confidence, but I sense she would not keep her concerns from you. Irrespective of the tenor of her mother’s response to David’s appearance, she is concerned about her mother’s response to her own role in his appearance.”

  Kennedy indicated understanding. “She’s afraid Miriam will be pissed Alex kept all this from her for months. It’s a valid concern…but I never thought I’d see the day when Alex was actively worried about whether her mother was angry at her.”

  “Indeed. Much has changed for Alex in my time with her, and now those changes will be disrupted in ways I cannot foresee or predict.” She cast her perception filters toward the Siyane once more. Kennedy’s remarks had reminded her of her own anxiety on Alex’s behalf.

  She for
ced herself to experience this present and this place for another moment. “Before I go, may I ask what you have planned for the day?”

  “We’re going to build a second Caeles Prism today. If the convoy from home gets here with all the right parts, possibly a third one. We need to be able to split the fleet up and run simultaneous missions at disparate locations.”

  “A wise strategic decision. Until later, then.” Valkyrie released control of the particles holding her presence together, and the manifestation that had been her dispersed into the air until nothing remained.

  SIYANE

  Alex slouched in the pilot’s chair, one foot thrown up on the dash. The Palaemon sunrise shimmered off calm waters and painted the cockpit in diffuse amber light. A quiet, peaceful morning extended from horizon to horizon—the kind of morning that brought smiles to even irascible faces and vigor to even weary bones. One full of hope, promise and possibilities.

  Ostensibly, she monitored various ship systems to make sure nothing failed or went wacky in the absence of Valkyrie’s active control. But all the systems were fine. They’d functioned superbly before Valkyrie had arrived, and in the months since the disastrous incident at the master portal the first time they’d tried to come to Amaranthe, every system had been modified to function—if not superbly, at least adequately—without Valkyrie’s guiding hand.

  It was good that the systems were fine, since Alex could hardly string two coherent thoughts together for worrying about how last night had gone for her parents, then worrying about what the answer meant for today and all its tomorrows. The urge to slip into sidespace and peek—a fast and fleeting peek—had tormented her sleepless hours. But she hadn’t done it, because she respected her parents’ privacy, dammit. And because she’d been as afraid of what she might see as she was hopeful.

  ‘Alex?’

  She jerked and yanked her foot down off the dash to sit up straight. “Valkyrie, you’re back? Obviously you’re back, seeing as you’re talking through the ship. How did it go?”

  ‘Well, I think. I touched a table and held a fork.’

  Alex laughed, but she kept it kind in tone. For a noncorporeal life form, those must be extraordinary actions indeed. “That’s fantastic.”

  ‘Did you experience any anomalies here during my absence?’

  “Only your absence.”

  ‘What…oh. I see. Thank you.’

  “I mean it. You were truly gone, and I could feel it. The walls were empty, the HUD lacked character. It was both surreal and disconcerting.”

  ‘You are teasing me.’

  “Maybe a little. But no anomalies to report. Everything functioned normally and as programmed.”

  ‘I am relieved. I spoke to Kennedy and Noah while I was walking. They are having breakfast on a nearby pavilion.’

  “Oh? I should go say good morning.” Caleb was showering, but if she made it a quick visit she’d be back before he came upstairs.

  ‘A fine idea, as they inquired about you. I will run diagnostics and review performance reports on our systems. I wish to identify any latent variances capable of growing into problems if the systems are stressed during any future absence on my part.’

  “I thought you probably would.” Alex gathered her hair up and wound a band around it before opening the airlock and starting down the Siyane’s ramp—where she almost ran smack into her mother coming up.

  Her eyes widened in surprise and a spike of fear. “Mom! What are—is something wrong? Did something happen—”

  Miriam held up a hand to cut her off. “Everything is…to be honest, I have no firm grasp on how everything is, but I can say with reasonable confidence that nothing is burning or exploding and, so far as I know, no one is bleeding. I simply decided, rather than wait for possibly a long time for you to come to me, I would short-circuit the drama and come to you.”

  This all sounded normal and reasonable, if surprisingly colorful coming from her mother. It had to be a positive sign.

  “I just wanted to give you some space to….” A memory flashed in her mind of a conversation with Caleb on Portal Prime.

  “If you want the relationship to change, one of you is going to need to let down those barriers.”

  “I’m afraid to.”

  He brought his other hand under her chin and lifted it so she met his gaze. “You’re not afraid of anything.”

  “Well, I’m afraid of this.”

  She abandoned her attempt to fake a lackadaisical demeanor; old habits and older defenses aside, she really shouldn’t screw this one up. “I was afraid to come see you. Afraid to face your wrath—” no, that was no good “—not your wrath. I’m sorry. I was…afraid.”

  “Yes, David said you were concerned I was going to be angry at you for not telling me about his existence at any point in the last sixteen months.”

  “Which you are.” It stung, but she nodded resolutely. “Okay. Understandable. But you called him David, so be as angry at me as you need to be. It’s worth it.”

  Miriam turned away to motion toward the winding paths of the floating outpost. “Walk with me?”

  Alex had been preparing to weather the litany of displeasure soon to come her way, and it took a second for what her mother had said to register. “Um, of course.”

  Without another word, her mother strode to the bottom of the ramp and headed off to the left. Alex hurried to catch up and fall in beside her. “I wanted to tell you so many times.”

  “I believe you. You don’t need to explain yourself. I understand why you felt you had to keep your secrets.”

  “You do?”

  “Oh, yes. If you had told me, I would have tried to stop your efforts to…” a dubious look flitted across her mother’s face “…transform a consciousness existing in quantum form into something more. And I very well might have succeeded.”

  “I worried you would, yes. I worried you would call it a pointless, destructive fantasy on my part and insist I was merely imagining any resemblance of random algorithms to my father. I worried you wouldn’t believe it was him.”

  “Perhaps I would have said all those things. But they are not why I would have tried to stop you.”

  It was early, and Alex hadn’t slept a minute the night before, and her mother was running circles around her. “They’re not?”

  “No. I would have tried to stop you because I would have been…” Miriam’s gaze drifted off to survey the placid morning waters beyond the path “…afraid. Like you, though my fears wear different guises. Fear of hope. Fear of believing in the impossible. Fear that if it failed, it would destroy me. I would have claimed I was stopping you out of practicality and because reason and logic demanded it, but in truth it would have been out of fear. And that…would have been wrong of me.”

  Optimism blossomed in Alex’s chest. “You’re glad I brought him back? You believe it’s genuinely him?”

  Her mother’s eyes were troubled enough to stall the burgeoning optimism. “A part of me still insists it can’t be. Impossible things are impossible, and all the hopes and wishes in the universe won’t change this reality. Nevertheless, if people can’t return from the dead, but the copy is indistinguishable from the real thing, does it really matter?”

  “Mom, it’s him.”

  “How? How can it be?”

  “I don’t…I can’t tell you how it is, only that I know it in my heart and my mind.” She fisted her hands at her chin. “All right, science. While the Anadens have refined their genetic makeup to the point where the genes determine the person, it’s not true for us. DNA creates probabilities and predispositions, but anyone who has ever met twins or a vanity baby can tell you that having the same DNA doesn’t make two individuals the same person. Yet he is the same person. Some aspects of a personality can’t be replicated by algorithms, either. There are things about him that can only exist in him. They manifest in ways that can only be him.”

  A tiny smile grew on her mother’s face.

  It was an encouragin
g development. “What are you thinking?”

  “You may have a point. He does retain certain quirks I did not expect DNA or memory to be capable of passing on.”

  “I was talking about facial tics and mannerisms and such, but what are you talking about?”

  Her mother’s tone now grew positively mischievous. “I believe that is between me and…well, me.”

  She cackled in unexpected delight. “Mom!”

  “Enough about that. You make a compelling argument, but I still submit it ultimately doesn’t matter.”

  Mirth gave way to a tentative sigh. “So I did the right thing?”

  “I hope so.” Miriam grimaced. “See, now you’ve managed to make me embrace hope nonetheless. May neither of us regret it.”

  “We won’t. But you’re not angry at me for keeping this from you?”

  “Oh, I am angry at you, but the anger shares equal space with anger at myself. I would have stopped you, and it would’ve been wrong of me. I put you in an incredibly difficult position. You reacted by doing what you believed was best to protect me—from myself—and you shouldn’t have had to do it.”

  Wow. It couldn’t have been easy for her mother to make such an admission. Walls down, defenses disarmed. One soul-baring confession deserved another.

  “Mom, I want you to know something. When I realized it actually might be possible to bring him back, real and living and in the flesh? A part of me wanted to stop then and pretend like it wasn’t possible, because I thought you would never forgive me for keeping you in the dark. I thought no matter the outcome for him, the fact I didn’t tell you beforehand was sure to ruin our relationship, and I desperately didn’t want that to happen. Being close to you has meant so much to me of late, and I didn’t want to give it up. Not even for him. But I didn’t have the right to deny him the chance for renewed life—or the right to deny you the chance to again have him in yours.”