…

...Connection Established.

...Simulacrum Database Search - Complete.

...Cognate Located - 93.72% Match

...Imprint V196DM200SY5831K46BA - Activated.

…I am Physician 2nd Grade Rithir Merkott. Upon activation, I immediately confer with Custodian-Theurgist Archive and begin assessing the host. Host Rúna Aukes is in good overall health, though suffering some degradation from micronutrient deficiency due to recent incarceration. There is also evidence of previous injuries, manifesting as fibrous tissue, but well within acceptable limits for the host’s species.

…Assessment of previous host Samara complete. Her prognosis is not encouraging, even with an infusion of genetic material from the current host to repair her damaged chromosomes, I fear our efforts may be in vain. Still, we must try.

…Introduction of nanomaterials to current host’s anatomy complete. No observable complications noted.

…Harvest of current host’s genetic material initiated. Assuming her DNA is both compatible and viable, we can use her genetic material to repair the previous host’s damaged chromosomes.

… Harvesting complete. Host’s vital signs remain stable. Establishing connection to previous host Samara via nanite link and initiating Emergency Resuscitation procedures.

… Previous host Samara successfully resuscitated and stabilized. Despite the decision to terminate our connection with the previous host in order to preserve her life, Samara’s genetic code is rapidly deteriorating. Despite our best efforts to bolster her afflicted telomeres, chromosomal damage is increasing at an alarming rate. Without an influx of healthy ribonucleic material to repair the degraded genome, the previous host Samara’s prognosis is almost certainly terminal. Current likelihood of survival: 12.03% ± 3.17%.

…Current host Rúna Aukes’ vital signs are now showing symptoms of degradation as well, though far below the levels exhibited by previous host Samara. Polymerase biocatalysts have been introduced in order to reverse chromosomal degeneration. Monitoring host for signs of worsening symptoms.

…Infusion and grafting of genetic material to the previous host Samara appears to have stabilized her unraveling telomeres. Upgrading likelihood of survival to 34.71% ± 6.39%.

…Both previous and current hosts now appear to be stable. Monitoring vital signs closely in the event of relapse, but for now, I am cautiously optimistic.

… I am Physician 2nd Grade Rithir Merkott. End Log.

Rúna slowly opened her eyes and tried to sit up, only to regret the effort. She hadn’t felt this badly wrung out since the long retreat on Sonoitii Prime, when she hadn’t had more than a couple hours of unbroken sleep in days and was nursing a festering shoulder wound to boot. Her head felt like it was packed with stuffing, there was a bone-deep soreness that seemed to come from every part of her body, and her tongue felt like she’d been force-fed bilge sewage, which made her stomach do a slow and disturbing roll. Under other circumstances, she’d suspect a hangover from hell, but the memory of a voice whispering in her ear suggested otherwise.

She winced as she tried sitting up again. “You still there, Guardian?” she asked.

… I am, Rúna, he replied. How are you feeling?

“Like shit,” she groaned.

… That is to be expected, I’m afraid. The sensation should pass within a few of your hours. What is Samara’s condition? he inquired, switching subjects.

She turned and looked at the woman beside her, still unconscious. She was alive and breathing, which was something, and her color looked a lot better than it had previously. But there was something off about her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Rúna examined her closely, but couldn't identify the source of her unease.

“Better,” she admitted. “Something’s not right, though. She looks… different. Altered, somehow.”

… That also is to be expected, Guardian agreed. What you are observing and experiencing are the residual effects of the therapeutic regimen we employed in order to preserve her life.

“What the hell does that mean?” Rúna demanded, her mood jaundiced by her physical complaints.

… Samara’s genetic code was breaking down, unraveling due to the strain of being linked to the Repository, Guardian explained, as well as the alterations made to her genome prior to our coupling by her clan. She… we… are guilty of using the technology at our disposal in ways it was never intended. We had become aware of this potential hazard to her well-being and were attempting to ameliorate the worst of its effects, but once her chromosomes began disintegrating, there was little we could do to prevent it. We severed the connection between us in the hopes it would reverse the process, but sadly, it was too late to prevent her eventual demise.

“But you fixed her,” she said in confusion, “though I don’t get why you couldn’t do that before. And why did you want me to hold her hand?”

… Once her genome began breaking down in earnest, there was nothing we could do to prevent it, he said once more. However, when you linked with us, taking up her mantle, it provided us with an opportunity we did not previously possess.

“What opportunity?” she snapped, growing increasingly frustrated with Guardian’s evasions.

… Your genetic material, he confessed. Having access to your chromosomes allowed us to fill in the gaps of Samara’s failing genome, buttressing her genetic code with yours. The differences you are observing are merely a reflection of that.

Rúna’s jaw dropped as she realized what he was saying, and why Samara seemed altered in her appearance. Her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, the shaping of her lips. She’d seen those features before.

In a mirror.

“You mean… she’s me now?” Rúna said in horror and disgust.

… Of course not, Guardian assured her. There are still numerous differences in your respective genetic codes, though given the multitude of mirrored strings of your genetic codes, one could argue you now share a familial relationship. Of a sort.

“Are you telling me you made Samara my fucking sister?” she all but shrieked.

… It would be difficult to quantify the exact nature of the relationship, given the unusual pattern of the grafted material… he began, only for the Valkyrie to interrupt.

“Oh, I hate this. I fucking hate this!” she shouted. “Her and me are nothing alike!”

There was a long pause.

… It might surprise you to learn how many times Samara has said the same thing, Guardian said with wry amusement.

Genvass struggled to follow the battle raging beyond the New Terra system, but despite the visual aids Athena added for his benefit, there was simply too much happening at once. Great swaths of Yīqún drones were being swept aside by the beam array, but there were so many more still fighting. The Grand Alliance fleet was falling back, despite their best efforts, and as for the Terran forces, with the exception of Peacemaker, the remainder of their vessels were now in full retreat.

Whether there was any safety to be found within the system itself remained to be seen.

“Ambassador Shaafvaazif, the Shaddai’Tzedeq array has eliminated approximately 17.219% of the Arbeh’Negef,” Athena informed him. “At this rate, it should eliminate the bulk of the drone armada within the next ten centicycles.”

“And the ones that are left? What about them?” he asked.

The AI considered that for a moment. “Based on previous observations, tactical and strategic models suggest there is a 78.41% chance the surviving drones will withdraw from the battlefield and seek a location where they may replenish their ranks. Once this has been accomplished, it is an almost certainty the drones will begin attacking targets of opportunity throughout the breadth of the Perseus Arm.”

“Holy Mother Terra,” he whispered. “So it just starts all over again, with the Yīqún terrorizing the entire galaxy?”

“That is correct,” Athena confirmed.

“Damn it, we can’t let them just slip away!” Genvass shouted. “If even a single drone escapes, we’ll never be free of them.”

“Given the size of the Arbeh’Negef contingent and the targeting limitations of the Shaddai’Tzedeq array, the probability of eliminating the entire drone threat is less than 9.37%,” Athena informed him. “If the Grand Alliance fleet ceases their attack against the drone's main body and redeploys, seeking out and eradicating the escaping craft instead, the figure then falls to approximately 5.64%.”

“That’s not good enough!” he fired back. “Unless we can defeat them here while they’re vulnerable, they’ll destroy everything we’ve worked so hard to achieve. There has to be a way!” Genvass thought furiously for a moment. “Why can’t you do the same thing Caretaker did when she wiped out the Yīqún?”

“Caretaker withheld the means by which she removed the Arbeh’Negef from this reality from my database,” she stated. “She gave no reason for this omission, however, it is my assessment that she deemed the knowledge too dangerous to be shared with any species… even yours.”

While he hadn’t witnessed the event himself, since he’d been stuffed into the hold of a Corsair freighter along with hundreds of other Dharmist refugees, he’d seen visual recordings. They made for grim viewing, and the sheer power at Caretaker’s disposal was frightening to behold. After viewing the footage, he saw why some viewed that ancient race as demons. Given what he knew of the Precursors… which wasn’t much, granted… it was enough to convince him Athena was probably right.

But even as he acknowledged the truth of the AI’s statement, another thought began tickling the posterior of his brain.

“What about the way Caretaker lured the Yīqún to their doom?” he pressed her. “If you could draw them all to a single location, we might actually have a chance against them.”

Athena froze, giving him a curious look as she considered his proposal. “I am unsure if my efforts could effectively mimic Caretaker’s means of allurement,” she said after a moment. “I was monitoring her efforts during her last moments, of course, but I do not know if my instruments captured the full range of her song.”

“You could try,” Genvass said desperately. “We’ve got nothing to lose by trying, do we?”

With a wave of her hand, Athena brought up additional holographic displays, as quettaflops of data flew past the screens. It was like watching Prometheus at his forge, or her Greek namesake raising a magical army for battle. Perhaps in the distant future, Terrans would be able to watch the AI at work and not feel like a particularly dense amoeba, though he’d never live to see that day. But unless he was very much mistaken, she’d taken his suggestion to heart and was running with it.

“I am reconfiguring one of my remotes to act as a lure,” Athena explained, bringing up another screen. “If my efforts are successful, it may be possible to draw the remaining Arbeh’Negef to a location of my choosing. Once there, a discharge of sufficient intensity from the Shaddai’Tzedeq array could conceivably annihilate them.” She looked up from her workstation as she faced him. “However, I will not know if my endeavors will be sufficient until I make the attempt.”

“Do it!” he urged her. “I’m not asking for a guarantee. I’m just praying for a miracle,” he said softly.

Nodding in receipt of her orders, Athena’s fingers flew across the displays, blurring with speed as she adapted her apparatus on the fly. Genvass could only guess at the sheer complexity of her task, but he also knew that if it was even remotely possible, Athena would do everything within her power to accomplish the mission. Finally, she turned to face him once more.

“I am ready to proceed,” she said at last, “but I caution you to temper your expectations. This entire procedure is without precedent and thoroughly experimental.”

“Consider them tempered,” he said in frustration, “but hurry!”

Saracen had picked up a wicked shimmy the moment she’d entered New Terra’s atmosphere, and it was growing steadily worse. They hadn’t been able to shake the drones on their tail, so Remi had taken one last gamble. If a death dive into the planet’s thick envelope of oxygen and nitrogen didn’t discourage them, then nothing would.

“Passing six hundred kilometers,” Taneka reported, her eyes fixed on the instruments. “Hull temperature nine hundred and fifty degrees Celsius and rising.”

“Copy,” Remi acknowledged, struggling to keep the ship on its trajectory. “The drones?” he asked.

“Still on our six,” the other Corsair grimaced. “Range, three thousand kilometers.”

“Time to see how committed they are,” he growled, nosing the craft forward. Her speed picked up immediately, but unfortunately, so did her hull temp.

“Altitude five hundred kilometers, hull temp eleven hundred degrees and rising!” Taneka shouted, the vibration growing in intensity, now jostling the crew hard in their seats. Remi heard the crash of something behind him, some random piece of equipment that had broken free from its restraints and thrown pell-mell onto the deck. They’d had little time to secure any stray items, and it was only going to get worse.

The resonance was increasing by leaps and bounds, as the only thing keeping them from being hurled across the deck were their harnesses, the straps digging hard into their flesh as they were jostled about. It was almost impossible to keep focus on their instruments; the fluctuations lobbing their heads from side to side as their helmets cracked against the headrests. “Range!” Remi cried out.

“Two thousand kilometers!” Taneka shouted back. “Altitude three hundred fifty kilometers, hull temp fifteen hundred degrees!”

“Now!” the pirate howled, yanking back hard on the yoke as he fought to bring the nose up. Saracen screamed in protest, the hull groaning and popping while the engines howled like banshees. A giant’s hand shoved them hard into their seats as the g forces climbed steadily. Remi fought the crushing weight as brought up a visual of their landing site, a wide shallow bay that was certified uninhabited, little more than a mud flat under a few meters of water. It was the softest terrain he could find that didn’t have people on it, but at their current velocity, it might as well be solid rock.

“One hundred kilometers!” Taneka howled, “Seventeen hundred and fifty degrees!”

The ship streaked across the sky, the dense atmosphere bouncing them about as Remi fought to keep the craft from tumbling. At their current speed, even a slight deviation from their glide path would be enough to tear Saracen to pieces.

“Ten seconds to impact!” the Corsair screamed, clutching her harness and holding on for dear life.

“Crash positions!” Remi bellowed into the intercom, though he didn’t know if anyone had heard. He wrestled with the controls to bring up the nose just a little more, and…

Saracen slammed into the bay at better than two hundred meters per second, sending up a massive bow wave that arced out in front of them, even as much of the water was instantly converted into steam. In the space of a heartbeat, her hull found the bottom as an explosion of mud and organic material exploded all around them. Super-heated water vapor shrouded the craft from view, though from above their progress was brutally clear, a dark line carved out of the sediment as they began to slow. The vibrations slowly decreased as they plowed through the shallow water, before finally coming to a halt scant meters from shore.

Remi’s chest heaved with ragged effort, his hands locked in a death grip on the controls. He looked over at his fellow Corsair, their eyes both wide in shock as they took stock.

“We made it,” Taneka said in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Remi agreed, just as surprised as she was. “Any signs of pursuit?”

She checked the scope, did a double-take, then checked it again. “They’re gone,” she told him, tapping the controls and widening the field. “There aren’t any drones anywhere near the planet.”

The pair stared at one another. “Then where the hell are they?” Remi demanded.