The Eternal Labyrinth

It had been a long, uneventful day. Bernard’s favorite kind. Nothing really bad had happened at the hospital throughout his entire shift, mostly just routine checkups for patients and a little bit of administrative work. Nonetheless, he was looking forward to getting back home. He’d had a particular piece of music stuck in his head for hours, and he wanted to see if he could play it on his piano to determine if it was a faint memory of a real song, or if he had fabricated a new melody in his head.

As he approached his house, he was startled to see Vanessa Cuarón standing on his front porch with three Voh Terran policemen. He sighed. They must need my help on another case, he thought. As Vanessa caught his eyes, she pointed directly at him.

“There he is,” she said.

The policemen approached with handcuffs and announced “Bernard Roe, by the order of the Voh Terran police commissioner, you are under arrest and obliged to accompany us to the police station.”

# # #

“Alright, so anybody want to tell me what this is about?” Bernard asked. The spotlight directly in his face was grating on his nerves, but he tried not to show it. He had never been on this side of the table for an interrogation before. This was going to be a good test of patience.

“We’ll be asking the questions here,” Vanessa said harshly. This confused Bernard even more. He had never before seen such a hostility in her eyes. Even when she was mad at him, her eyes weren’t like this. Now, hatred was bleeding through. He resolved to cooperate as much as possible until he understood what was happening. “You are Bernard Roe,” she continued, “chief of staff at the Central Voh Terra Trauma Ward?”

“I am.”

“Age?”

“Fifty five.”

“How many inhabited solar systems can you name?”

He was puzzled. This was a question for schoolchildren. The solar systems had been fully terraformed and inhabited by humanity for hundreds of years. “There’s fourteen,” he answered. “Two for Shandücha, one each for Bastion, Fortuna, Voh Terra, Tsukonia, Brewtan, the Niiz K Corporation, Pendeross, the Deqhri, Zashana, the RNP, the original Sol, and then the Disputed Territories.”

“And what do you know about a fifteenth solar system dubbed ‘The Tempest’ by the media?”

Bernard groaned. The Tempest again. He explained what he knew. Seeking more solar systems to expand to and terraform, Shandücha and Niiz K had sent out exploration ships in every direction. Most returned with no results. Some had promising leads. But one had sent back mysterious, chaotic messages, reported unusual signs indicating possible intelligent life, and then the exploration ship vanished. Bernard and a crew of many others were sent out to try to discover what happened to the Shandüchan ship.

“OK,” said Vanessa, nodding, her eyes still blazing with fury. “And what happened to you all in the Tempest?”

How many times had he told this story? It gave him a headache to recount it. He sighed and then related the story, again. They first landed on a planet and immediately found intelligent life, albeit undeveloped. The people lived in perpetual fear of monsters around their village, which Bernard and his team soon discovered were actually illusions projected by a ring of machines around the village, which served as incontrovertible proof that there was a society in this region who had incredible technological capabilities. After dismantling the devices and determining there was no trace of the original Shandüchan exploration team, they left the planet to continue searching.

Their second planet brought them face to face with that society of incredible technological capabilities. They called themselves simply “the Dynasty.” After a short conflict, Bernard and his team got away safely.

Their next stop in the search was an annihilated ship adrift in space. Though clearly not the Shandüchan ship they were looking for, their humanitarianism won out and they stopped to assist. Unfortunately, such a long stop allowed the Dynasty to catch up with them, and in their attempt to flee, a volley of missiles obliterated their ship and left them drifting in open space.

After this, they landed on the next planet of the solar system, where …

“Hold on,” interrupted Vanessa. “Your ship was blown up? The *Dragonfly*?”

“Yeah,” Bernard replied. “Dynasty missiles.”

“And from there you landed on another planet?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“On our ship.”

“Your ship was blown up.”

Bernard’s headache returned. “Well we got it back.”

“How?”

“I…” he stammered. The pain in his head was mounting. “Well anyway, we landed on the next planet…”

As Bernard continued his story, Vanessa jotted down relevant notes for her records. This story wasn’t adding up like it should.

“… and there we were in the marketplace, when suddenly we heard blasts. This planet wasn’t technologically developed enough for those, so we assumed Dynasty troops and ran for the ship. At least two shots hit me, but then I blacked out. When we awoke, we…”

“Hold on,” she interrupted again. “Where were you shot?”

“This arm,” he answered, pointing near his left shoulder.

“Both times?”

“Yes.”

“Roll up your sleeve.”

He did so.

“No scar.”

“Of course not, it’s healed.”

“How did two shots in your left arm knock you unconscious?”

“I don’t know. Maybe tranquilizers or something.”

“Alright. Tell us what you saw when you awoke.”

# # #

Four months into the Tempest journey…

Consciousness slowly returned to Bernard. He looked around. He was alone. Surrounding him were sheer walls stretching up about twenty feet into the air. The higher he looked, he saw what seemed to be a roof over his head. It reminded him very much of a warehouse roof. Looking side to side, the walls stretched out, split, curved, and angled off into different paths.

“Am I in a maze?” he muttered.

“Could be,” replied a robotic voice. Bernard spun his head up and saw a small sphere with one big camera right in the center. It hovered in the air about three feet outside his arm’s reach. “Hi. I’m Heinlein. I’m your companion today.”

“Heinlein. Where am I?”

“Whoa now, I never said I was going to be a *helpful* companion.”

“Then what sort of companion are you meant to be?”

“The kind that follows you around.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Great. Well if we’re meant to stay together for now, let me try to assess what you are.” He looked closely at the hovering robot. “I’m assuming you’re being controlled by a person who’s speaking through you. Though based off the tech we’ve seen in this system so far, I suppose you could be AI. And that camera in your face … going to assume someone is watching me.”

“It’s a privilege to watch your mind at work.”

Bernard looked away form the robot and examined his surroundings. “I’m in a maze and being watched. Great. Like an old study with a mouse looking for cheese so scientists can watch and examine him. Does that mean there’s some reward I’m meant to find?”

“Is my company not reward enough for you?”

“Let’s see,” he continued, ignoring the robot, “if I’m right and this is like a mouse in a maze, the test is meant to gauge intelligence. Mouse uses its sense of smell to find the reward and navigate the puzzle. So what am I meant to be looking for?”

He looked around more. These walls were too high to see anything, and above them all he saw was the rafters, catwalks, and lights two hundred feet up in the roof. He examined the lights. Any strange pattern? No, ordinary layout. The catwalks? They did seem to go in a mostly straight line from one end to the other. He opted to call those North and South so he could have a sense of direction. If only he could see beyond those. This warehouse was expansive and the walls blocked his view. The more he looked North, he began to discern a slight red glow.

“Like an Exit sign,” he said aloud.

“An exit?” asked Heinlein “Why would you ever want to leave a beautiful place like this?”

He stood for a minute and considered. What did he have here? A fairly clear hint about where he was meant to go. A robot hovering overhead watching him make decisions. He was definitely in some kind of an experiment. He turned on his heel and marched South.

“Ooh,” replied Heinlein “Look who thinks he’s being clever.”

Bernard walked for what felt like an hour and the scenery never changed. Maze walls, turning and folding off into new paths. He kept himself aligned by watching the catwalks above to ensure he continued in a southern direction. Heinlein continued mocking him and offering comments at every turn, but Bernard had begun to tune him out.

“How large is this place?” he finally asked aloud.

“At least seven feet long,” Heinlein answered.

“I know I’m not retracing my steps. But the maze continues. This is the largest warehouse I’ve ever been in.”

“Warehouse?” Heinlein asked.

Bernard looked up hopefully.

“There house,” the robot said.

He face palmed in reply. There had to be a better way of going about this. He looked at the walls again. Maybe they weren’t twenty feet, he thought. Maybe they’re closer to fifteen.

“Back off robot,” he said. “I’m gonna try something.”

“Ah yes,” Heinlein replied. “The inevitable last ditch effort of desperation. I love this part.”

Bernard took some steps back, ran forward, and leapt with all his might. He barely grabbed into the top of the wall with his fingertips, and using all the momentum he had, pulled himself up. He balanced on the thick wall top, about four feet wide, and gazed around.

“Wow,” said Heinlein. “I didn’t think humans could jump that high. Good job doc.”

“I’m built a little differently than most humans. How did you know I’m a doctor?”

“Like I’m going to answer that.”

Standing atop the wall, Bernard was overwhelmed. He knew this maze was big, but he never could have comprehended just how big. In every direction the maze stretched out as far as he could see.

“What is this for?” he wondered.

“Clam bakes,” came Heinlein's reply.

# # #

“So this robot of yours,” Vanessa asked, “knew you were a doctor but didn’t know about the super soldier serum thing from three years ago?”

“Apparently not,” he answered.

“Interesting. Almost a selective knowledge thing going on.” She snapped her fingers. “Are there any biographies available of you? Like if I search your name online, what comes up?”

“Hospital staff page is the first result,” replied one of the three policemen, already searching it. “It’s pretty straightforward. Name, date of birth, medical qualifications, that sort of thing. Nothing about a … serum?”

“Long story,” Bernard answered.

“Let’s just say that’s why we wanted to have a minimum of four people to bring him in,” Vanessa said to the cops. “Just in case he didn’t cooperate.” She turned her attention back to Bernard. “So it seems like whoever was controlling this robot thing did a minimum of research before tossing you into this elaborate maze.”

“Could be.”

“Alright doc, what happens next?”

# # #

He continued moving south. Standing atop the maze walls he had been able to see landmarks of sorts scattered throughout. Towers in a few locations, what looked like buildings in a few, and a castle in each extreme direction for a total of four. The south castle was his new objective. Along the way, doors began appearing in the maze walls, and he ignored each and every one. He would stay focused. Progress had to be made. After three more hours of nonstop weaving through the maze, he was getting exhausted.

“You know,” offered Heinlein, “maybe through some of these doors there could be a buffet. Maybe a lounge. A bed or two. Toilets. Pub. You never know until you try.”

Bernard finally stopped. Maybe the robot was right. At this pace he’d never make it to the castle before he needed to sleep. He climbed down from the walls and looked at the doors nearest to him. They were painted a variety of colors, some with images on them. His eye settled on one that was a solid light blue. Worth a try. He opened it and immediately was attacked by what looked like a Minotaur from Osmian legend. Before he could react, a claw struck him and pierced his left lung. He fell to the ground as the monster lifted its leg and began stomping him into the ground. As the monster lifted its leg again, Bernard rolled out from under it and leapt onto its back and began to strangle it. It lashed out, hitting him in the back repeatedly, but Bernard held tight until the creature passed out and fell to the ground. Bernard rolled off, panting heavily.

“I said the door *might* have a buffet,” said Heinlein

“Not illusions this time,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. Looking down at his chest he saw blood pumping out faster than he would have liked. “The first planet was illusions,” he muttered, struggling to get up. Maybe a room would have medical supplies. “Illusions meant to strike fear into people’s hearts and keep them subdued. If these were illusions I could have handled that. Where did they get a Minotaur?”

He opened every door nearby. An arboretum. An empty opera house. A room full of snakes, which he slammed shut before they could approach him. His vision was starting to go, and his strength was leaving him more and more. Finally he collapsed on the ground.

“What a stupid way to die,” he whispered. “A Minotaur in a maze. If only I could have…”

His thought was interrupted by Heinlein, nudging him and rolling him onto his back. The robot dropped a satchel of medical supplies onto his stomach without a word. Without wasting a moment, Bernard used what strength he had to look through the sack and patch himself up. He staved off the bleeding, stitched up the wound, and injected himself with adrenaline to boost himself awake again. The lung would have to be dealt with later. He raised himself onto his feet.

“Thanks Heinlein,” he said.

“For what?”

“For bringing these supplies.”

“I didn’t bring you anything. Didn’t you have those all along?”

Bernard stared at the robot. It seemed to be genuinely confused. But Bernard wasn’t imagining it. Heinlein without question had extended a small claw out of his spherical body, held a medical bag, and dropped it. Why would he not remember that?

“Here’s my new theory,” Bernard said. “You’re a basic AI, but with a human controller who can override your systems when he sees fit.”

“Nonsense,” Heinlein responded. “I can’t be tamed, baby.”

# # #

“You three,” Vanessa said to the policemen in the interrogation room, “step out for a minute. And I’m going to disconnect the recording too.”

The three men looked confused, but cooperated. Vanessa had chief authority in this investigation. As soon as the door had closed behind them, she switched off all recording devices and microphones.

“That’s suspicious, isn’t it?” she asked him. “In the Tempest you come face to face with a living embodiment of an Osmian legend, and then as soon as you get back our mission takes us to Osmia?”

“I have no idea. How could there be a connection? Not only did I not know I would wind up there later, but the mission was confidential. So unless these people have a reliable way to predict the future *and* know about secret missions that aren’t planned yet, how could it be? The robot only knew basic information about me, after all. I think they just have a decent understanding of our history already and were going for a scattershot arrangement of things that would be familiar to us.”

“Could be. Please continue.”

# # #

Bernard redirected himself. South. But along the way he kept peering into the rooms, ready to slam them shut at a moment’s notice. For three days he walked, with each passing hour his pace increasing. Fewer stops, more efficient, less dangers being encountered.

“You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?” Heinlein asked.

“The doors? I think so.”

“Do tell.”

“The plainer the door, the plainer the room. The one just white contained nothing. The solid light blue one contained a Minotaur and nothing else, just hanging out in that one little spot. The one with a full on mural had an entire opera house. Complexity of the door’s design equals complexity of the room.”

“Good. And?”

“And the better condition the door is in, the safer it is. The more damage and scuffs visible on the outside, the more dangerous it is inside. So if I only stick with nice well maintained doors, I avoid threats entirely.”

“You’re not as dumb as you look. Almost, but not quite.”

“Still haven’t worked out what the paintings on the doors mean. They always seem unrelated to the contents inside.”

“Hence you being *almost* as dumb as you look.”

“Thanks.”

At last he had reached his destination. The castle. To his surprise, the front door was open so he walked inside. It, like everything in this maze, was expansive. It took him two hours to search every room. It looked just like something out of a history book. Every room well stocked, even the kitchen, despite no sign of life inside. There was only one room he hadn’t yet explored, because it was locked. He opted to go to bed and find the key in the morning.

“Where to next?” Heinlein asked him after awaking.

“I gotta find that key.”

“After moving relentlessly all this time, *now* you wanna stop? Why?”

“Because the only thing locked in this place is that door. Everything is open and inviting. Why keep me out of that door?”

“Could be danger. Look how nasty it is.”

“It’s just old and well worn. I don’t think that’s a clue of danger inside.”

Through the castle he found many keys. Every single one was tried in the old door’s lock, but with no success.

“Alright,” Bernard finally said, “time to try it the old fashioned way.”

He brought himself back and hurled his body into the door. Not a budge. He tried again. Same result. A third try rewarded him with the sound of a slight crack. He threw himself into the door over and over until it began to give way, finally collapsing under the strain. Bursting through the door he fell sideways into the room. Looking up, he saw monitors displaying the feeds of security cameras. One was pointed directly at the back of his head. He spun around to see Heinlein hovering in the exact position.

“Good to have that confirmed,” he said. “You’re a security cam following me to broadcast my actions.” Turning back to the monitors, he was shocked to see that each one was showing a different crew member from his ship. They must all be in here too, each one followed by their own Heinlein. Some seemed to moving along at a leisurely pace. Some were on the verge of death. The more he watched, the more something puzzled him.

“None of them are getting killed,” he whispered. He tried to determine who was most wounded. Mara Rubik, one of the least reliable of the crew. She was struggling. A tiger had pounced and was mauling her. One more bite would finish her off.

But then, the tiger straightened up and walked back into the room it had sprung from. The door closing automatically behind it. Mara was left there, bleeding out, moments from death. Then the screen turned to static. It remained that way for nine minutes, and when the visuals returned, Mara had been fully stitched up. Not by herself, for she was still face down on the ground. Then she jumped up, as though by shock, and Bernard reasoned she had also been given some adrenaline when the operation was done.

“We keep getting attacked,” he said, “but it’s like under no circumstances can we be allowed to die. Why?”

Heinlein imitated the sound of snoring.

Bernard examined the control panel more closely. There was a microphone attached. Technology was never his strong suit, but he wondered if it would be possible for him to override these robots. His assumption was that somewhere, someone was already doing it, so maybe he could figure out how to as well. He pressed every combination of buttons and levers that made sense to him, each time trying to speak into the mic. No success. Finally, calling out to Mara, she stopped at looked at her robot.

“Bradbury?” she asked. “You haven’t used my name before. What’s up?”

“This isn’t Bradbury,” he answered her. “This is Bernard. I’ve figured out how to speak through these things.”

“Bernard? Where are you?”

“In a castle. Have you noticed any of those?”

“I haven’t.”

He walked her through the steps. Analyzing the catwalk, orient yourself and head in a set direction. Each way there was a castle. Your proximity to the glowing red light would indicate how near or far you are. One after another, he contacted each member of the team and sent them in the appropriate directions. After three more days, each member of the *Dragonfly* crew had found their way to one of the four castles. Having learned properly the use of the observation equipment, they began wondering if there would be a way to contact anyone outside of the maze.

# # #

“And then we escaped,” Bernard concluded.

Vanessa was dumbfounded. “That’s it?!”

“Yes.”

“No. That’s stupid. How did you escape?”

Bernard’s head hurt again. “We got to the ship and flew away.”

“How did you get to the ship?”

The pain in his head was mounting. “What do you mean? We left the maze, got in the ship, and flew off. We came home.”

“No, Doc, stop. Listen to me. You’re in the maze. You’re in a castle. How *specifically* do you get out of the castle, the maze, and back to the *Dragonfly*?”

He pressed his head down on the cold metal table. It provided some relief for the headache that was overpowering him. “I told you! We escaped! We escaped the maze!”

Vanessa jumped up and grabbed him by shoulders. “Doc! Answer me! How did you…”

He swung and hurled her across the room. As she collided with the two-may mirror the glass fractured out in every direction.

“We escaped!” he shouted. “What more do you want?” He dropped back onto the table. His head was spinning in agony and his heart was pounding. He could hardly breathe. His right hand balled into a fist and he beat the table repeatedly. “We got out. We escaped. We left the maze. That’s what happened. That’s all that happened.”

Guards were hammering the door from the outside. “Vanessa! What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, pulling herself off the floor. Definitely some broken ribs to attend to. She picked a few shards of glass out of her back and sat back down across the table from Bernard. “Doc. Think about something else. How’s Cheyenne doing?”

“Corporal Scott?” he asked. The pain in his head starting slipping away. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a few days.”

“How’s the hospital?”

“Um, fine. I just had administrative work to do earlier today and…”

“How’s your head feeling?”

“Fine.” He paused. “Great actually.”

Vanessa sighed. Bernard noticed with some relief the hatred had left her eyes. What concerned him was that now the look had been replaced with pity. She had never looked at him like this before.

“I’m sorry doc,” she began. “I have some really bad news for you.” She threw her head back and looked up at the ceiling, squinting from the light. “I suppose I ought to tell you why we’ve dragged you in here today.”

He held his breath. He noticed his hands shaking a little and he tried to steady them.

“Early this morning we got the *Dragonfly’s* black box.”

“But we brought the *Dragonfly* back home.” His headache was creeping up on him again.

“Please. Let me finish. When the *Dragonfly* blew up, its black box automatically began making its way back here. That was part of the design. But it moves slow. We only just got it back, months later. It was immediately reviewed by top brass from every nation who had a part in the mission. It was … it wasn’t good.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me just play it for you.”

Vanessa reached into her bag and brought out a disk. “This is a copy of the final moments.” She played it.

# # #

Bernard was in the cockpit of the *Dragonfly* with some of his other crew members. They were in orbit around a planet, trying to scan it for signs of life. This was a rescue mission after all, so if there was no chance the missing Shandüchan crew was there, then there was no point in landing. The ship’s com began to buzz. Bernard leaned forward to answer it. A voice starting coming through, full of static and indecipherable. One of the crew in the cockpit began trying to filter out the background noises. Soon, it became distinct.

“This is Bernard Roe, calling for assistance. Is anyone there?”

In the cockpit, Bernard and the rest of the crew exchanged glances. Was this a joke?

“This is Bernard Roe,” the voice repeated. “Is anyone there? Please, we need assistance.”

Without turning on the ship’s mic, Bernard looked to the crewman. “Is there a way to get visuals on this person?”

With a little effort, soon Bernard was face to face with the man calling them. They both looked shocked and stared at one another for a moment. The *Dragonfly* crew was face to face with themselves, but instead of being in a ship, they were in some control room full of security monitors. Further in their callers’ background was stone walls and a wooden door.

“Are you …” the caller began. “Are you the crew of the *Dragonfly*?”

“We are,” Bernard replied. “What is the meaning of this?”

The caller lowered his head. “Do you have scars on your left arm, near your shoulder?”

“I do,” he replied.

“That confirms it then,” the caller answered. “We’re Dynasty experiments.”

“Please explain.”

“We’ve found some files. If we can establish a secure connection we’ll send them all over. Information about a planned invasion, a wormhole they’ll use to attack, military statistics and strategies. As well as…” he said with a pause, “information about an ongoing experiment wherein they get DNA from people in our part of the galaxy, clone them, and subject them to psychological experiments so they can better prepare to fight us.”

“They can’t kill us,” the clone Mara added, “because we were the only sample of DNA they had from all of you. We’re too valuable.”

“Where are you?” Bernard asked the clones. “We can come offer assistance.”

“Please don’t,” replied the clone Bernard. “Once you read those files, you’ll see that this planned invasion is imminent. You have to stop it! Destroy their gate that opens the wormhole! Forget about us. Our lives are meaningless in comparison to the billions in the galaxy.”

The call dropped.

“Incoming files,” said Mara. “Looks like … several hundred terabytes of information.”

“Accept it,” replied another crew member. “Looks like the next few days are going to be pretty terrible.”

# # #

“It can’t be,” Bernard said, long after the video finished playing. “I’m the clone?”

“Looks like,” Vanessa replied, putting the disk away.

“Why don’t I remember any of that? Nothing after reassembling the team in the different castles. How did I get back? Four of us returned. On the *Dragonfly*! Surely the Dynasty was finished with us!”

“Seems like they weren’t finished with you quite yet. I’m going to guess that once you finished sending those plans, your purpose was readjusted.”

“To what?”

“I have a theory,” she said, pulling a syringe out of her travel bag. “But to prove it will require your full cooperation.”

# # #

Bernard awoke on a hospital bed. He had no idea how much time had passed.

“Good news,” came Vanessa’s voice. She was seated next to his bed. “The operation was a success.” She held up an almost microscopic piece of gear. “Neural transmitter, we think. Planted in your head so the Dynasty could see and hear everything that happens to you. Nifty plan, ain’t it? Once they’re done observing how you handle the labyrinth, they kill most of the crew and send back just a handful. You return with garbled memories, some planted, some wiped, so everybody back home thinks the mission is over. Can’t leave you missing forever or a new team gets sent, a larger one. They plant a trigger in your memory, so anytime you touch on a gap or an inconsistency in your memory, it shifts your brain to a new topic. Now nobody can ever find out the truth of what happened. Hence your headaches whenever you think about the Tempest. But why pass up this opportunity while they’re already tinkering around in your mind? Send you home with a bug in your head so they can keep observing and learning to better prepare for their invasion.”

“But then,” he replied, still weak from the surgery. “What about the others? The ones we were cloned from?”

“Unfortunately the black box doesn’t show us much more.”

“Yes it does,” he replied, calling her out on her lie. “Black boxes only return when the ship is destroyed. You didn’t show me the end.”

“You’re right,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s classified. And … it’s upsetting.”

“Please. What happens to them?”

Vanessa fidgeted in her seat. “They uh …” she paused, and drew in a sharp breath. “They find the gate. But the Dynasty was observing all along. They knew you had sent the information to the team. I guess that’s their sense of fair play. They wanted to observe you properly, so there had to be chance for you to win their game. You did for sure, but they watched the entire time.”

Bernard felt a pit growing in his stomach.

Vanessa cleared her throat and fidgeted a little more. “But um, you Bernards. You’re smart. You deduced that the Dynasty was ahead of you on all of this. So the team split and sent a decoy to do a frontal assault. Based off the conversation recorded in the black box, it seems like you all knew it was a suicide mission. Most of the team charged directly, and once they’d caught the Dynasty’s attention, you and Mara flew in on the *Dragonfly*. The engines were overloaded and you made a beeline straight for the gate.” She lowered her head to hide the tears that were forming. “You and your stupid self-sacrifice, greater-good mentality. It finally caught up to you.”

“And then?” he pressed.

“The Dynasty ships saw you, but too late. You and Mara nailed the gate head-on. And that’s … that’s where the recording ends.”

The room was silent, aside from the quiet sobs Vanessa tried to hide.

“Did they succeed?” he finally asked. “Was the gate destroyed?”

She was quiet for a long while. “We have no way to be sure,” she at last replied. “But there hasn’t been any invasion. So I’m inclined to think so.”

An hour passed in silence as they sat in the hospital room together. Neither looked the other in the eye. Vanessa’s com device vibrated many times, but she ignored it.

“I still can’t believe it,” he finally said. “I can’t believe I’m a clone. I have fifty five years of memories in here. I feel like the real Bernard. This can’t be right.”

Vanessa stood up and put her hand on his shoulder. “If I were in trouble and asked you for help, what would you do?”

“I’d try to help.”

“What if you were busy, or tired, or in pain?”

“I’d do my best anyway.”

“What if I were about to die and the only way to save me was to sacrifice yourself?”

“I’d do it.”

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Sounds like the real Bernard to me.”

# # #

After release from the hospital, he spent two weeks being debriefed by the officials who oversaw the Tempest mission. Now that the neural transmitter was gone from his mind, there was no fear of being spied on during these meetings, plus the pain in his head had been taken away. Unfortunately the false memories were still there, so they still lacked a clear picture of what really happened in the Tempest, but happily they could rule out the ridiculous scenario of the *Dragonfly* being destroyed and then miraculously coming back.

Between Bernard’s testimony and the information on the black box, the nation’s leaders came to the agreement that invasion was no longer imminent, but still a threat. Nations that had sworn allegiance to Shandücha out of fear of an impending war returned to independence as their fear of the Dynasty was reduced.

Of course, in an earlier pre-emptive strike, Shandücha had declared war on and conquered several of the smaller nations, but since nobody missed them, the galactic powers agreed Shandücha could keep those territories.

# # #

“So what do we do now?” Bernard asked. He was finally home and settled down after the endless meetings and interrogations he had been subjected to.

“Live in a perpetual state of fear and paranoia I suppose,” Vanessa answered, “terrified that at any moment the Dynasty may get their act together and invade us after all.”

“You don’t have any indication what’s going to happen next?”

“Outta my pay grade. My job was to find you and make sense of that black box. What to do about this whole situation is for the governments to decide.”

“Where do you go from here then?”

“I have no idea whatsoever. How about you?”

He exhaled. “Go back to work? Maybe retire? Maybe sell this house and become a vagabond, just wandering the galaxy. I have no idea if that serum is going to cause me to live longer than average, so until I know I’m going to assume I won’t. Gotta make the best of it.”

“You ought to get married.”

“Why?”

“I feel like you’re the sort who would go loopy living alone and in peace. I think your time at war has left you addicted to chaos.”

“Some might call that PTSD.”

“Could be. But you need to be around people. Cheyenne is cute, though you’re a little old for her. There’s that hot concert pianist from Pendeross. Natalya Pietrov. She mentioned you by name in an interview a while ago.”

They fell silent again. Bernard looked at her long and hard.

“What were my last words?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The other Bernard. The original. The black box was there in the cockpit up until his final moments. What did he say?”

Her smile wavered. Her eyes turned down sharply to the floor. Slowly tears built until she couldn’t hold them back anymore, and she crumbled to the floor. Bernard sat on the floor next to her and held her close to his chest. He apologized for asking. As she regained control and slowed her breathing, she broke away from him. He didn’t ask again. He changed the subject and they carried on as before.

# # #

The *Dragonfly* was aimed straight for the gate. The Dynasty had seen them and begun to open fire. Bernard hoped in desperation that this ship would hold out until the last moment. The engines were overcharged so the crash would facilitate an even greater explosion. The gate was strong, but the blast would be stronger.

“How’s it going Mara?” he shouted into the com, trying to be heard over the blasts pummeling the ship.

“I’ve got it as high as it can go!” she shouted back, laughing maniacally. “These pigs will never know what hit them!”

He steeled his eyes forward. There would be no hope if they peeled off and fought anyone. Through the com he could hear the rest of the team on the other ships getting annihilated one by one. He had to continue. This was for them. This was for the galaxy. This was for his friends.

His friends. His mind drifted back to them. Ty, who had wisely bailed on this mission at the last minute. If they succeeded, she might have a shot at living a full, peaceful life. Alan Knox, Ty-Ren, even Anthony Spades. So many people would benefit if this plan succeeded.

Seconds left to go.

His mind drifted to one last friend. The one who had stuck with him through everything and never let him down. She hadn’t yet found her calling in life, but he knew she would in time. She would have time if only this plan would succeed.

The gate loomed large in his vision until it was all he could see. They had made it. Shields were holding at just 14% but that didn’t matter now. They were here. In another moment it would be over.

He finally pulled his eyes away and looked directly to the black box. It was recording everything. It was all but indestructible. If it survived the blast, it would carry all the information home. He leaned in close so he could be sure to be heard over the shots riddling the ship.

“This one’s for you Vanessa.”

END