Red Nova

The REM Retrospection of Datum

Vreffith lay on his cushiony bed with a petite woman on top of him. Even though the room was dim, he could see the naked woman, and that’s all that mattered to him. She was massaging his hairy chest while he caressed her perky breasts.

“Sanna,” he muttered, groaning with pleasure.

They were both enjoying each other’s company the way passionate lovers do, but he pushed her aside as if she meant nothing to him when his computer terminal began to vibrate from the adjacent wall. The lights automatically brightened. Vreffith got off the bed, put his pants on, and activated the vidlink. Not a second later, Zoris appeared.

“What is it?” scowled Vreffith.

“Goliath has been destroyed,” said Zoris. “And, as you’ve ordered, we have deployed an oculus to erase our presence in the Gamut.”

“And the admiral’s files?” asked Vreffith.

“I’ve uploaded them to your UND,” said Zoris.

“Excellent work, Zoris,” said Vreffith. “I expected no less from you.” He terminated the vidlink session before Zoris could even react to the superficial praise and hastily opened Bisel’s dossier:

Niralus Bisel (pronounced nir:a’lus bah-cell), born May 14, 2658, is an Admiral of the Tenth Fleet of the UEC military. Bisel formerly served as Commander-in-Chief of Higher Education and has been awarded several medals such as the Crossing Star during the vel’pheasian occupation from 2678 to 2680.

Originally from Corselos (once known as French Morocco), he grew up on Earth as an only child and was raised in the UEC military where he was trained, becoming the world’s youngest and highest ranking soldier of the twenty-seventh century. Bisel had already become a general by the age of twenty-three and was instrumental in protecting IGF colonization against the vel’pheasian occupation. In 2681, he married Elsa Bessero.

There was something odd about Bisel’s dossier, thought Vreffith. Bessero was a name he had seen before. It was a long-forgotten name from his so-called first life as Liagon. He ran an encryption check on the dossier and found a file on her, but nothing of importance came up for Vreffith other than her year of death: 2693. During her life span, Elsa appeared to have been an ordinary citizen of the UEC. Vreffith glared at her file with a suspicious expression and then closed his eyes while one of his memories returned.

Strapped to a hovering bed via metal bars, four scientists took him out of a room. They pushed his bed through a hallway in their research asylum until they reached a classified zone: Vacuity. The scientists were planning to conduct another test on him. Liagon, his vision blurry, groaned. His citrine eyes, however, flared when he noticed a sealed room to his right, which had a side panel that read Patient 683: Elsa Bessero.

“I remember,” said Vreffith to himself, returning to the present moment. “Elsa Bessero was a patient in the same research facility where I’d been experimented on.” He paused for a brief moment and then grinned. “So, it was you who escaped Delva’s moon.”

The naked woman on Vreffith’s bed kept rubbing her legs together and caressed her own breasts while moaning.

“Vreffith,” she called out in a luring tone.

“You’re still here?” he snapped, not even turning to face her. “Go back to your room and play with yourself.” Sanna rolled her eyes, dressed quickly, and left. Vreffith opened the vidlink again and waited until Zoris appeared. “I want you to get a group of your men as fast as possible and meet me by the shuttle,” he said firmly. “We still have some killing to do.”

“Sounds fun,” said Zoris.

Vreffith looked back at the Galactic Terminal when he ended the vidlink. He wore an impressed expression on his face.

“Bisel,” he began, “you are far more fascinating than I thought.”

In the meantime, Bisel was guiding his remaining soldiers out of the swamp. The haze and toxic gas surrounding the survivors made it difficult for them to see ahead. Upon traveling half a mile, however, they were finally able to see a rock that resembled a bornhardt; though, it was actually the side of a mountain. Rain started to fall, at which point the sextet spotted an entrance to a small cave at the base.

“Thank goodness,” said Private McKenzie, running into the cave.

Admiral Bisel took his time getting into the cave, but the others ran inside as quickly as McKenzie. They were all huffing and puffing, trying to catch their breath. Keith was the only composed one in the group. He had his eyes on Bisel who walked in as though the acidic rain meant nothing to him. Bisel sat in lotus position an inch away from where the rain dropped. Shaking his head, Keith decided to lay beside Jolus.

“We will stay here until the rain ends,” said Bisel.

Mar’kett, looking pale, desperately wanted to argue against his decision. Unfortunately she felt sick and coughed violently. In the end, she sat near her two soldiers and tried to keep herself warm.

“I advise each of you to shut down for maintenance until the rain terminates,” said Bisel rigidly. Upon seeing their confused expressions, he reiterated, “It is time to rest.”

To the group, Bisel telling them to rest was like seeing an angel appear from the sky. It was so outlandish to hear this that they didn’t think too much on Bisel telling them to shut down for maintenance, which was quite absurd for any human to say. None of them could believe what they heard, but they took advantage of his advice and rested. Bisel decided to rest too; however, his form of resting was very different from the others. It was more of an introspection—the REM retrospection of datum.

Data formed into his synthetic brain, uploading an event that took place eighteen years ago in a UEC research facility on a moon orbiting planet Delva. It had always been referred to as Delva’s moon. Liagon resided inside a pitch-black room, imprisoned on a mechanical bed-like platform that prevented him from moving his limbs. Suddenly, the lights in the room activated and beamed on Liagon’s eyes. Then the access door inside Liagon’s padded cell unsealed, and in came a scientist. When the scientist stepped in, he clicked his UND and selected a medical chart from the interface.

“Good evening, Liagon,” said the scientist.

“There is no good in the evening, Kraceir,” said Liagon.

Kraceir stood in the middle of the room while typing Liagon’s response into his UND’s medical chart. He then looked up with a puzzled expression, staring at Liagon.

“Really?” said Kraceir. “So then, when is there good?”

Liagon laughed and glared at the scientist. “Good is the ego’s reaction to desire, Kraceir. Nothing more, nothing less.”

A white table and chair manifested in the center of the room. Doctor Kraceir took a seat while taking in Liagon’s answer. He typed another response into the medical chart and cleared his throat.

“I see,” said Kraceir. “So, you’re regressing back to the first day you spoke with my predecessor? How long has it been now, eighty years?”

“Seventy-nine years as of today,” said Liagon irritably. “And no, there has been no regression at all. Only ignorance. Ignorance on your end.”

Kraceir couldn’t help but laugh. “Liagon,” he began, “if you keep denying the nature of good, then you’ll never know the meaning of moral behavior. And if you can’t understand the significance of it, how can you possibly expect us to free you?”

“Free me? We both know that will never happen,” said Liagon. “It’s simply an idea that you’ve attempted to instill within my mind—like the notion of morals. This is just another one of your schemes. They’re all the same: to better understand how I have developed through your experiments.”

He was too smart for his own good; but then again “good” didn’t exist, he conceded. The concept of good had simply become an expression to him. And the same was with the concept of evil. He did not accept the moral system of humanity. It seemed to be a contradiction to him, especially in his current situation. Humans altered their values and laws to suit themselves. They were always hypocritical. And it was the same here: the UEC experimented on him for personal gain.

Liagon neither wanted to be the moralist Nietzsche had become—Übermensch—nor the immoralist Hitler once was. He simply existed, without the notions of good or evil dominating his mind. Yes, he thought to himself, God had ceased to exist—not only in a literal sense but metaphorically because the original system of morals he’d been taught wasn’t enough to give him a life-affirming path. In the end, he had to create his own path. Perhaps this was what had led him to such nihilistic thoughts.

“All you have to do is be passive,” said Kraceir. “Show the committee, especially Vortzshmald, that you have what it takes to live among others instead of killing them if they don’t please you. This requires living a good life.”

“No one is good,” said Liagon. “Good doesn’t exist; it is merely an illusion. I will live by my own standards. And if I could, I’d kill anyone who injects me again.”

Kraceir shrugged. “Your choice.”

“I have no choice,” snapped Liagon.

“There is always a choice,” said Kraceir. “It’s the fundamentals of behavior. If you had chosen to never be aggressive, then the chances of you having freedom would’ve been possible. But the fact is you’ve chosen to be aggressive since the day of your awakening, and—”

“My awakening?” said Liagon, scowling. “You mean your experiments. I’m fed up with all these mind games. Why are you here? Wait, let me guess. Another injection?”

“No, not tonight,” said Kraceir. “I simply wanted to speak with you.”

“Where’s Mother?” asked Liagon.

“Mother is gone, Liagon,” said Kraceir. “And you know, as well as I do, that she’ll never return.”

“This death you once told me of,” began Liagon inquisitively, “explain it to me again. Why is it that I cannot go there to see Mother? I’ve done what you’ve asked. I have refrained myself for three months. I am a man of my word, and you know it’s been two days since our agreement.”

“Ah, is that why you’ve been giving me a hard time?” asked Kraceir.

“Let me cross over to death and visit Mother,” said Liagon. “That is all I ask.”

“Death is not something we can return from,” said Kraceir. “That’s why we started these experiments in the first place. Fe’lorians live thrice our life expectancy. If we could somehow perfect our formula with their G-DNA, then humans wouldn’t have to worry about death so much. And, by the way, our agreement was that if we succeeded in reviving Mother we’d let you see her. But—”

“You failed,” interjected Liagon.

Kraceir nodded. “We’ve done everything we can,” he said. “Mother has traveled too far into death. Like a machine beyond repair, she can’t return. No one can ever see her again. That is death.”

“Death,” muttered Liagon. “Send me to death. If you do this for me, I promise not to harm anyone again.”

Kraceir sighed. “You’ve lived for almost an entire century and still can’t comprehend what death is,” he said. “It’s not a place we can visit. It is the very end of our existence.”

“Void of good?” asked Liagon.

“That depends on you,” said Kraceir.

“It doesn’t depend on me,” said Liagon. “There’s only one outcome from existence: the empty death.”

Kraceir slammed his fist against the white table. “Goddamn it, Liagon! Your absurd behavior is only going to keep you imprisoned indefinitely. There are two outcomes in life: the good and the bad. And so far you’ve steered yourself straight into the ladder of the two. Mother is gone from our life. She lived a life of good and died nobly. If you truly wish to see her one day, then from this point on I suggest you start living a decent life.”

Liagon did not respond. He remained silent. Kraceir eventually stood up and left, turning the lights off. The chamber was pitch-black again. With the exception of Liagon, it seemed as if everything had vanished. Only in the darkness did he feel alive again. He no longer felt numb due to the injections. He remembered Mother Fe’lora—her beautiful citrine eyes, her gorgeous navy-blue fleece, her majestic mind, her glorious strength, and her ability to create or suspend stars. He remembered everything about her. And when he remembered everything he closed his eyes and let the next few hours take him into the voyage of dreams.

In the meantime, General Bisel entered a room where a female doctor stood. She was examining Liagon behind a transparent wall.

“Doctor Siyona,” called out Bisel.

“Yes, General?” she said.

Bisel folded his arms, giving her a skeptical look. “Are you sure this weapon of yours will be useful against the vel’pheasians?”

“None of us can be certain,” she said.

“Except that you need more time,” said Bisel, raising an eyebrow. He looked through the transparent wall, staring at Liagon with an unimpressed expression. “Am I right?”

Doctor Siyona nodded. “Liagon, Patient 682, is extremely dangerous. He’s always been this way. We’ve sent in psychologists, sociologists, philosophers—even theologians, and yet none of us can determine whether he’s stable. The committee insisted we hand him over to you; they insisted that he needs to be freed. According to Vortzshmald, only if Liagon is free would he be willing to assist us in defeating the vels. But…”

“But what, Doctor?” said Bisel. “I need to know the truth. I’ll not risk the safety of my people for the sake of a weapon.”

“One of our psychologists, Kraceir, thinks Liagon is manipulating us. Kraceir believes Liagon is ultimately a deadly weapon that would result in the destruction of all life—not just the vels. He also thinks we should isolate him into Vacuity.”

“Why?” asked Bisel. “Has he given any reasons for this conclusion?”

“Kraceir thinks Liagon is fully aware of death and that he has no moral concern for those who live in peace,” said Doctor Siyona. “In fact, he believes Liagon would not only kill every invading vel but every last one of us as well.”

“That’s quite the contrary considering the committee’s approval,” said Bisel.

“I beseech you, General, tell your admiral that we need more time,” said Doctor Siyona. “I can’t help but agree with Kraceir. Even if the committee is giving their approval, it’s just too dangerous.”

Bisel glanced at Liagon again. “I’ll take full responsibility,” he said. “Send 682 into Vacuity.”

Doctor Siyona flinched. “Are you sure about this, General?” she asked in disbelief. “I was under the impression that you’d demand to take 682. Not the opposite.”

“This thing you call ‘Liagon’ has been here for over a hundred years. And you’re still frightened of it,” said Bisel. “I’d say it’s time to move on and start looking at something else. Speaking of which, I have heard a rumor that you’ve begun working on a new experiment in Sector V.”

“W-well,” stuttered Siyona, “I don’t know how you’ve heard of that, but yes, we’ve had some success on our newest subject: 683. As a matter of fact, she volunteered.”

“She?” said Bisel. “I thought these experiments were impossible for a woman.”

“It was, at least until last month,” she said. “Patient 683, Elsa Bessero, is the first woman in history to survive the treatment.” Doctor Siyona stepped out of the room and walked through the hallway, Bisel following. “Though,” she went on, “I don’t think she’ll talk to you within the next decade or two. She has yet to awaken.”

“But she’s alive, right?” asked Bisel.

“Yes,” said Doctor Siyona. “But there are no symptoms of the DNA shift yet. No matter how many times we run tests on her, she seems to always come out negative. It’s as though she’s still an ordinary human, except she underwent the same process as 682.”

Bisel kept following Doctor Siyona through an ivory corridor. They eventually reached a sealed hatchway. When the doctor waved her hand at a monitor beside the door, an AI initiated a G-DNA scan on her.

“Perhaps it’s a mistake to bring you here,” said Siyona. “The committee advised me to keep this hidden from the military.”

“You do know, Doctor, that this facility is entirely funded by the military?” said Bisel, glaring at her with a faint smirk.

“Don’t worry, I’m cooperating,” she said. Siyona promptly entered the hatchway while she added, “But remember, General, everyone has secrets.”

He gave a faint nod to Siyona, respecting the committee’s decision to keep Patient 683 hidden. Crossing the hatchway, Bisel started feeling nauseous. He felt as if he’d been sucked into a funnel, and yet all he did was walk forward. Bisel rubbed his forehead, accidently bumping into the doctor.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“It’s all right,” she said. “It usually happens for first-timers.”

“First-timers?”

“Mmhmm,” she muttered. “We’re here. Let’s turn around now.”

Bisel looked utterly baffled. He turned and followed Siyona back to the entrance of the hatchway. He was about to stop her but realized, as the access door unsealed, that the sector’s district looked different. Bisel thought to himself, All this time the hatchway was an elevator portal? Ingenious.

After passing through one of the many corridors, the chairman of the facility’s research committee—Vortzshmald—appeared with four others: Professor Mendolson, Professor Punay, Doctor Kraceir, and Rena Mar’kett who was pretending to be a doctor. They were engrossed in a conversation, but it ended the instant they saw Bisel.

“Doctor Siyona,” began Vortzshmald, “what is the meaning of this?”

“General Bisel can be trusted,” responded Siyona. “Moreover, he already knew. It seems someone in your committee has told the UEC about this sector.” She glanced at Mar’kett with a simpering expression.

“Hold your tongue!” snapped Mar’kett.

“You’re forgetting that I am in charge of this operation,” said Bisel, glaring at Mar’kett. “Not the Chief Executor, not Doctor Siyona, and especially not you. Doctor Siyona was wise to be honest and bring me down here. So, I suggest that you hold your tongue.”

The committee knew that Bisel’s words were true, which was why they kept quiet. There was, however, a sense of reproach from them when they strode by Bisel, with the exception of Mar’kett; she gave him a wink. As for Vortzshmald, he gave Siyona a look of contempt, one which signaled that her time in the research facility was running short.

“Carry on, Doctor,” said Bisel.

Doctor Siyona complied, walking farther. Bisel followed her through the facility until they reached a central intersection that flowed with electrical currents pulsing. Before them lay a cavernous hole containing a vertically stabilized polder of energy, and in its deepest depths—within the polder—was a black hole.

“Is this Vacuity?” asked Bisel. “The black hole?”

Siyona glanced at Bisel and nodded. “Are you sure about 682? Is it really best to send him into Vacuity?”

“I’m positive,” said Bisel. “But tell me, Doctor, why is 683 so close to Vacuity?”

“We once did the same for 682,” answered Siyona. “And honestly, it’s for our own protection.”

“In case she awakens and becomes aggressive?”

“You’re a quick learner, General,” she said.

“I wouldn’t be where I am today if I wasn’t,” he said smoothly.

Siyona smiled. “You pride yourself well, General. Just don’t be disappointed if 683 never awakens in your lifetime. It took twenty-nine years until 682 awoke.”

Bisel squinted, fixing his eyes on her for a brief moment. He chose not to respond to the doctor’s words, following her. When they arrived at Elsa Bessero’s reformatory, Siyona waved her hand at a console. The access door to the hatch unlocked and opened. They then entered the pitch-black room. To Bisel, there was an ambiance as quiet and eerie as a cave in the darkened chamber, giving him an uncomfortable vibe. He felt as though someone other than the doctor was watching him. Siyona provided him with night-vision goggles and linked her UND to the chamber’s mainframe.

“Why not just activate the lights?” asked Bisel.

“We could do that,” said Siyona, “but if she’d awaken while the lights were on, it would cause her to go blind.”

“Wait a minute,” he responded. “I thought you said that she wouldn’t awaken in the next decade or two.”

“She won’t,” said Siyona confidently. “Nonetheless, I don’t want to get fired. I always try to follow the procedures.”

Bisel sighed while he put the goggles over his eyes. The first thing he spotted was Siyona using a supercomputer. She appeared to be checking on Patient 683’s vitals, at which point Bisel glanced around to find Patient 683. When he found where she was stationed, he saw that her eyes, which didn’t have irises, were already opened, staring at him. Bisel gasped and tumbled backwards, falling to the floor.

“General?” said Siyona. “Are you all right?”

“Di-did you see?” stuttered Bisel in dismay. “She’s awake!”

Siyona’s heart pounded as she turned to look at Patient 683, yet she was as cataleptic as ever. Siyona glanced back at Bisel and wheezed. “Aren’t you too old for games?”

“What?” said Bisel, gawking at Patient 683 whose eyes were closed. “I swear it!” he added, getting to his feet. “She was staring directly at me!”

“Is that so?” said Siyona. Gulping heavily, she decided to ignore Bisel and continued to use the mainframe. “I think you’ve seen enough for today, General. Perhaps it’s time you got some rest.”

Bisel hardened with anger. The veins in his body bulged. Not a second later, he stormed out of the chamber as though he’d been insulted in front of the entire committee. When he left, however, Siyona glanced at the sleeping unit again. She appeared to be sweating, yet she was in a room where only the cold lingered.

On the following morning, the committee decided to send another person into Liagon’s room to speak with him. Her name was Margaret Surandes—patient overseer—but referred to herself as Tathagata. She quietly entered Liagon’s chamber. As usual, he was strapped to a bed. He seemed lifeless. His chamber was cold and dark. Then the lights activated. Liagon noticed the patient overseer right away, scowling at the sight of her. Tathagata, dressed in an amber robe, looked about seventy years old and had a bald scalp. She sat down in the center of the room—lotus position—and closed her eyes.

Her tranquil appearance wasn’t affecting Liagon at all. He didn’t utter a single word to Tathagata, and she didn’t say anything to him either. They were quiet for several hours. After the fourth hour, however, she finally broke the silence.

“All that we are is this moment; this moment is all that we are,” she said.

Silence fell for a minute. Liagon, frowning, eventually answered, “No, it’s not. Most of the time I prefer thinking of my memories or wondering about the future. I’m far more than just this moment.”

“Be that as it may, you are still dwelling in the present,” said Tathagata. “You think to avert your mind from it, but the present moment is still with you. Only denial pervades you, Liagon. Your mind continues to stray from the present moment—perhaps to purposely spite us—but you are nevertheless here, in the now. Your past is presently a part of you, and your future is presently a part of you. Both past and future are connected to you in this very moment.”

“So what?” said Liagon, grunting. “How does this help me become free?”

“If you release yourself from the shadows of your past and the what-ifs of tomorrow, which have yet to occur, then you will be free,” said Tathagata.

“No, I wouldn’t be free,” he said, irked. “I would just become your puppet. All you want from me is to rid your species from their mistakes, and that requires me to abandon Mother.”

“Why do you cling to Mother?” she asked.

Liagon grimaced. “Why do you cling to Buddha?”

Tathagata smiled and replied, “I hope you have realized by now that there is no Buddha other than the Buddha of your own mind.”

“That doesn’t make any difference,” said Liagon. “Whether your mind, my mind, or another’s, if autonomy existed, as you say, then it is my right to find Her.”

“But what good is autonomy if your mind is imprisoned?” she said.

“My mind is not imprisoned, only my body is,” he said. “And that’s because of you and your sick colleagues. It was Mother who expressed the importance of sovereignty and to never abandon Her. Without a doubt, she shall return from the realm of death.”

“Liagon,” began Tathagata, “clinging to someone, even Mother, who’s gone from our reality, can cause much suffering. The vel’pheasians are responsible for what happened to Mother. You must believe me when I tell you that they have taken her away and that she will never return. It’s because of them, Liagon—the vels. They are ruthless and indifferent; they’re killing us without any moral concern.”

“Morals do not concern me either,” he said.

Tathagata took a deep breath. “Liagon, moral concern is the most important awareness to have,” she said.

Liagon gawked at Tathagata. “Why? Because you said so?”

“No, Liagon,” she answered. “Not because I said so. But because it’s simply a mark of the universe. It’s how we live in harmony, which allows all of us to experience sovereignty. I’m sure even Mother knew this to be true.”

“Morals are just an excuse to avoid reality,” he said. “With all the fear and suffering that consumes us, your people have created a bubble—a brain teaser. And now: what your eyes see, what your ears hear, or whatever else your mind has learned is the outcome of a wish.”

“Why a wish?” she asked. “Why not a reality?”

“Because your wish has no place in reality,” he said.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” she said. “What is this wish? And why can’t our wish have any place in reality?”

“Your wish is a lasting hope for identity, security, poise, and morality—all that entice the demand of individuality, even if it’s a plea for freedom,” he said. “But what is freedom in your society? Absolute freedom doesn’t exist. It is merely an impression, an illusion created from the mundane mind. It’s no different than your delusional notion of morality: a concept invented by your ancestors to fill the emptiness that fear permeates.”

“Why, Liagon, I’m flattered that you’re so fond of emptiness,” she said.

“You’re gravely mistaken if you think I’m referring to aggregates,” he said scornfully. “The human plea for ‘meaning’ in life doesn’t imply that subsistence is innately the emptiness you so willingly bind yourself to, but rather, emptiness as in nihility. Humans have recognized it subconsciously but cognitively deny it because of fear.” Liagon paused for a moment. “This is why such a wish has no place here. And it’s also why your species seek a purpose that envelops their being to the extent of it being intellectually and naturally designed in such a manner that it presents a perfect triumph—but-oh-so-forth—for the purpose of your ego.”

“You make us seem so worthless,” she said. “We deserve a chance.”

Liagon’s eyes flared. “You deserve a chance, but I don’t? What freedom is this? Humans are all the same: selfish, egotistical parasites. Especially you. If you were a genuine bhikkhuni you would defend my freedom.”

Tathagata flinched at his words.

“Perhaps the vel’pheasians are your atonement,” he added.

“It’s because of them that Mother is gone,” she said. “It is in their code of Yak-Shur to kill until they surpass their praetor and become a Paragon—a supreme killer. Even I realize the violence they possess. Please, Liagon, help us.”

“There’ll be no more deliberation without Mother by my side,” he said.

“Mother Fe’lora is impermanent,” said Tathagata. “She has reached a place none of us may reach until it is our time to fade. In life, we all lose those whom we love because of death. Your attachment to Mother Fe’lora holds you back. It is time to let go of her and help us fight against those who threaten our lives.”

“Tch, you talk as if you’re so wise,” said Liagon, “but you’re just as ignorant as me; in fact, the only reason why your religion has outlived the others is because it always avoids an answer. Mother had a scientific answer for everything. Gautama Buddha had no metaphysical answers; no answer if reincarnation exists, no answer if the soul exists, and no answer if any gods exist in the universe. He had no answer for anything except mindfulness. Sooner or later you’ll have to make a decision! And, decisions aside, the fact remains that you yourself are caught up by clinging.”

“What is it that I cling to?” asked Tathagata, her posture bent.

Liagon grumbled under his breath. “Are you truly that blind? Allow me the pleasure to use a familiar analogy: if we pull the strings of a musical instrument too tight, they will snap. Yet, if we lessen our grip too much, the instrument will not play; therefore, the Middle Path is needed. Fascinating, my dear old friend. But you have clung so tightly to moderation that your ancient teaching has become an attachment in itself. You yourself are a prisoner to your own teaching.”

Tathagata stiffened. She was silent and did not answer Liagon despite how much time passed. Her radiance flickered—her body lingering in the darkness—and faded until she was nothing more than a shadow. Tathagata left so quietly that it was as though she had vanished from the chamber. Only Liagon remained.

His citrine eyes flared. He neither smiled nor frowned. There was nothing wholly “good” or wholly “evil” about him. Liagon existed simply, as the nil universe, without moral judgment; his mind was like a tsunami that raged across an ocean until it reached land, flooding a whole city filled with people who were labeled as “good” citizens. There was no evil to the occurrence other than the subjective mind that became horrified by the phenomena, calling it a “natural disaster,” and yet people rely on nature in order to live. That was, similarly, the response of the military when it came to Liagon. They were horrified by his nihilistic mind and yet they needed him as one needs nature despite such fear of its incredible power to create or destroy life.

In this long moment of silence and loneliness, Liagon knew the truth. But nothing really mattered to him except his preference—freedom—because preference was the only thing that kept nihilists going. Preference was their code: the one tenet of their liberating philosophy. If it was to commit suicide or to live—to protect, kill, create, or destroy, these possibilities lay in the hands of those such as Liagon, without divine consequent. Liagon’s mind was free, but not his body.

Another day passed.

In the afternoon, General Bisel walked into the cafeteria and sat by a corner table farthest from his subordinates. He was alone and looked uptight. Rena Mar’kett was the only person who decided to approach him. She took a seat beside him. Bisel clicked the table’s menu and selected coffee, which materialized within seconds. He took a sip of it, ignoring Mar’kett.

“I heard about what happened yesterday,” said Mar’kett. “Or was it the day before?” She stayed quiet for a moment, waiting for Bisel to answer, but he didn’t. Instead he just looked more agitated. She then added, “They say you’ve gone mad; that you’ve seen Patient 683. And that she was awake.”

“She was staring at me, Rena,” said Bisel. “I swear it.”

Mar’kett nodded, opening her own menu. She glanced at the first page and then flipped through a few pages that showed various cuisines. When she came across the beverage section, she selected a martini. Her drink materialized within three seconds.

“I believe you,” said Mar’kett, a faint smile forming on her lips as she drank some of her martini. “Oh, and don’t worry, this is my first drink.”

“Charming,” said Bisel, sipping his coffee.

Mar’kett chuckled. “I’m teasing you, General,” she said. “Relax, I really do believe you.” She finished her martini as Bisel sighed with relief. “I think it’s possible Patient 683’s shifting has begun without us realizing it. For all we know something could have stirred her cataleptic state when you entered the room.”

“She looked at me as though she were possessed,” he said.

“Now you’re pushing your luck with me,” she said, raising an eyebrow and giving him a long look. “She’s an ordinary woman, Niralus. Don’t be so frightened just because she opened her eyes and looked at you.”

“You expect me to think that’s normal?” he said in a troublesome tone.

“No,” she said, appearing somewhat amused at how Bisel reacted. “Look, we’re in this together. Right? All you need to do is keep an eye on Patient 683.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said.

“Glad to hear,” said Mar’kett. She looked at the time on her UND and added, “Well, it’s almost 0900. We should probably go to Sector V soon or else we’ll miss the meeting concerning 682’s Vacuity.”

“Can I finish my coffee first?” he asked.

A crooked grin formed on Mar’kett’s lips. “Is that just an excuse?”

“An excuse?” he said, laughing. “Trust me, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I mean, the universe.”

“Mmhmm, right,” she said, rolling her eyes and leaving.

Bisel watched Mar’kett walk away, taking a sip of his coffee. He took his sweet time and smiled, sitting alone. Truthfully, he could care less about the meeting. Bisel wanted Liagon sent into Vacuity as soon as possible. No one was going to change his mind. He was a stubborn man. He loved being stubborn, especially when it ticked others off. He continued to smile while he finished the rest of his coffee.

Meanwhile, most members of the committee were already inside the conference room. Among them were Doctor Siyona, Doctor Kraceir, Vortzshmald, and several other scientists. Tathagata refused to show up; she wouldn’t be a part of any violent act unless it had to do with self-defense. The committee sat silent, patiently waiting for Bisel and Mar’kett. Many of them wore expressions of extreme frustration, worried about the reason for this meeting.

They all knew that Bisel had given the order of Liagon’s termination—Vacuity—but that wasn’t going to stop them from at least discussing it before taking action, even if it meant getting on Bisel’s bad side. That was, of course, considering the folly idea that he had a good side. Mar’kett eventually entered the conference room with a little brunette-haired girl who looked no older than eight years old.

“So nice of you to join us, Teri,” said Vortzshmald, chairman of the research facility’s committee.

Teri, the little girl, sat beside Mar’kett and replied, “That’s Professor Teri to you. And don’t be so surprised, Vorty—” Bisel stopped near the door of the conference room and eavesdropped while Vortzshmald interrupted Teri:

“For the last time,” began the chairman, “my name is Vortzshmald, not Vorty!”

Teri rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The point is that I’ve been keepin’ a close eye on Project Nova. So don’t think I’m about to let this go down the drain as you’ve done with my life.”

“You ungrateful brat!” exclaimed Vortzshmald. “I’m sick of seeing this girl on the committee!”

“Relax, both of you,” said Mar’kett.

Vortzshmald grumbled. “You should be grateful you still have a seat on the committee when you should’ve been sent into Vacuity a century ago! And who’re you to speak, Rena Mar’kett? I’ve seen you lolling with that UEC nomad just a little too often these past few days for my own taste.”

“I agree,” said Professor Mendolson. “Explain yourself.”

“I don’t need to explain myself,” snapped Mar’kett. “I’m a part of the committee just like the rest of you. Show me a little respect.”

Doctor Kraceir knew that wouldn’t sit well with the committee and decided to intervene before Vortzshmald and the others could.

“I think it’d be in our best interests to work together instead of arguing,” said Kraceir. “Being able to understand one another before making any unnecessary judgments is vital to our success. If the military saw us arguing like this they’d cut our funding and would probably keep a closer eye on us. Honestly, we’re lucky General Bisel is the only person they’ve sent.”

“You’re right, John,” said Professor Punay. “But I must say, knowing why she’s been spending so much time with the general would put my mind at ease.”

Most of the others grunted in agreement.

“Well,” began Mar’kett, “if you must know, I felt that it would be better to keep an eye on the general rather than let him run rampant in our facility.”

“Let’s hope that’s the only reason,” said Vortzshmald.

“My thoughts as well,” said Doctor Siyona. “But our issue with General Bisel’s presence is not our primary concern.”

Teri cleared her throat, gleaming at the committee. “Patient 682?” she said.

Still suspicious of Mar’kett, the chairman kept eyeing her. However, he eventually turned to the center of the room and announced, “General Bisel has ordered that we cease Project Nova: Patient 682. Instead we’re to focus our funded experiments on 683. The general seems to believe 683 has greater potential than 682, particularly her eyes.”

Mendolson and a few others began to snigger.

Vortzshmald went on, “Yet, as amazing as that sounds, I cannot help but—”

“Good afternoon, everyone,” interrupted Bisel, walking into the room. “Sorry if I missed anything.”

“Not at all,” said Vortzshmald, glowering.

“Hey, Vorty!” said Bisel excitedly. “How’s it going?” He sat next to Mar’kett and Teri as he added, “So, what’s this meeting about? Patient 682?” He rubbed his hands together. “I almost forgot. Liagon’s going to be sent into Vacuity ASAP, right? Excellent!” The scientists stared at Bisel, disgusted by his attitude. “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.”

“General,” said Vortzshmald grumpily.

Bisel ignored him and continued, “How about we all go to the cafeteria and celebrate the demise of Patient—”

“General!” shouted Vortzshmald, standing up.

Bisel’s face immediately became sullen. “Sit down, Vorty,” he said.

Vortzshmald remained standing. He looked as though he was fuming and leaned forward with his hands spread on the conference table. Many of the committee appeared to be shocked and speechless. Teri seemed to be enjoying this. As for Bisel, he wore his usual smug expression, glaring at Vortzshmald as though he wanted to shoot him. Vortzshmald eventually sighed and sat down.

“Now, what seems to be the problem?” asked Bisel, smirking.

“General,” said Vortzshmald as calmly as he could, “this entire facility was built for the purpose of Project Nova.”

“I never dismissed the antecedent; I merely dismissed its consequent,” said Bisel.

“But we’ve spent decades on 682!” said Vortzshmald. “Billions of dollars were used by the UEC military to fund this! We’ve been working on 682 even before he was a part of Project Nova! How can you just flush this away?”

“Because I read Liagon’s entire file,” said Bisel. “He managed to break out of his cell despite your security and killed eight people in the process.”

A hazy memory resurfaced in the scientists’ minds, recalling Liagon escaping his padded cell and ripping each of his victims apart with his claws.

“Mind you,” continued Bisel, “he was smiling as innocently as Teri while killing those people.”

Teri could not help but blush when he mentioned her name.

“But that was two years ago,” said Mendolson.

“Tell me,” began Bisel, “what has to happen for you to realize that Liagon needs to be processed and terminated?”

“He’s different now,” said Vortzshmald. “Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

He stared at Kraceir, waiting for an answer. Kraceir, on the other hand, stayed quiet for a moment, looking at the table. He had a troubled look on his face but eventually looked up at the committee.

“Well,” began Kraceir, “patient 682 seems to have changed; but I highly recommend further observations before making any other assessments on him.”

Vortzshmald gazed at Kraceir as if he were about to strangle him to death.

“No more observations,” said Bisel sternly. “You’ve had more than enough time with him. Liagon’s been here for more than double our lives. He’s no use to us now; the moment you free him he’d just repeat what he did before, or worse.”

“A weapon against us all?” posed Teri.

“Precisely,” said Bisel with an impressed expression. “See, look at that. This charming girl understands what needs to be done more than anyone else here. We have much to learn from children.”

“I’m no child,” said Teri.

“Oh?” said Bisel, looking confused.

“I merely look like one, thanks to the UEC,” said Teri.

“That’s enough out of you,” said Vortzshmald, pointing harshly at her.

“I’m afraid not, Vorty,” said Bisel, glancing at the girl. “Go ahead and speak your mind, Teri.”

“I am Professor Teri Breuget,” she said. “But I was once known as Patient 37.”

Most of the members in the committee already knew this information, but both Bisel and Mar’kett looked surprised.

“That’s quite a shock,” said Bisel, troubled. He contemplated for a brief moment. “This changes things. Not only was I never told this, but I was under the impression that all female patients—besides Patient 683—had died due to exposure of fe’lorian G-DNA. I want to know the origin of Project Nova. And why was a child used?”

Vortzshmald opened his mouth, about to answer him.

“Not you, Vorty,” said Bisel. “I want to hear this from Teri.”

“It all began two hundred years ago,” said Teri. “At that time, Project Nova didn’t even exist. The scientists simply studied fe’lorian physiology. Fe’lorians, as you probably know, tend to live for a few centuries. The original goal was to mix their G-DNA with humans and see if our life expectancy would increase. I was the very first guinea pig as a child. They had wanted to test it on a woman and figured children could survive since children’s bodies are constantly growing and adapting. So, they found me and promised my parents that they could reverse the effect if it didn’t work. I was nervous in the beginning, but I was told that I’d be Earth’s greatest hero. I thought it sounded cool, so I agreed.” She paused for a moment and then went on, “I was naive because instead of them reversing the effect, they kept me as a lab rat on this rock that you call a moon for the past two hundred years.”

Vortzshmald closed his eyes, regretting that he’d kept Teri alive.

Bisel looked at her in disbelief. “Two hundred years?” he said. “Are you kidding me? You barely look like you’re eight.”

Teri giggled. “I know that I look like an angel, but I’m not. And I expect someone to reverse this effect, as promised.”

“Well, first things first,” said Bisel. “682 is to be sent into Vacuity immediately. Once that’s settled, I promise to look into your case. And don’t worry, Vorty over here is going to be a good sport and help me.”

Mar’kett couldn’t help but smile affectionately at Bisel while Teri giggled again. As for Liagon, regardless of how Vortzshmald and others like Mendolson and Punay felt, the decision for his termination would not alter.

The following morning, Bisel left his private quarters and made his way to Sector V via an elevator portal. His intention was to check on Patient 683’s status. As he walked through one of the corridors, however, he heard loud mechanical sounds from one of the side hatches. Bisel looked through the hatch’s windowpane, yet he wasn’t able to see anything. He listened for a moment, continuing to hear the same sounds; they were getting louder and louder.

“What is all that noise?” said Bisel, still unable to see clearly.

He entered his identification code into the hatch’s panel and went through. The hatchway led him to a beta chamber with prototype machinery and weapons for starships. Bisel noticed a UHAT—Universal Humanoid Adapting Tank—under construction in the center of the chamber. Teri stood there with four hovering spheres helping her weld an armored arm on to the tank. The biomechanical spheres were using their laser beams over Teri’s shoulder and kept following her as she moved around the UHAT. She was using a blow torch on the UHAT.

“That’s quite the tinker you’ve got there,” said Bisel.

Teri stopped using the torch and lifted her goggles. “Sorry, General,” she said, “I didn’t know you’d be coming so soon. What’d ya say?”

“I said: that’s quite the tinker you’ve got there,” he repeated loudly. “I mean, your UHAT looks amazing. How come you’re not using the BT-43 on it?”

“Phooey,” said Teri, playfully waving a hand at Bisel. “Those automated thingamajigs have a habit of messin’ up its integrity. Besides, I always prefer manual labor. It makes things more exciting, and it gives me more precision.”

Bisel laughed. “Well, excuse me,” he said.

“Sorry,” she said, giggling. “I know it seems arrogant, but it’s true! Those blow torches always mess things up, especially model forty-three. It was rushed into the GT market if ya ask me.”

“I’m just kidding,” said Bisel. “I don’t think your age has sunk into my mind yet. I keep seeing this little girl. And then I’m wondering to myself, ’how the heck could she be working on something like that alone?’”

“Actually,” she began, “Rena’s helping me.”

She pointed at the second floor, where the control room lay. Bisel looked up and noticed Mar’kett manually controlling all four biomechanical spheres. She waved at him, and he waved back at her.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got everything on manual,” said Bisel.

“Mmhmm,” uttered Teri. She lowered her goggles and continued to work while asking, “So, have ya come bearing good news?”

“I’ll be honest,” began Bisel, “I had no idea you were in here. I didn’t even know you’re an engineer.” He stepped closer to the UHAT and said, “Heck, I’ve never even seen this chamber before. But I’m a man of my word and intend to see your problem reversed.”

Teri smiled. “Music to my ears, General,” she said.

“Anything for a little girl,” he said.

Sighing heavily, Teri went back to work. She had a playful side to her but hated when people called her a little girl. She felt a tremendous need to prove to those in the research facility that she was more than a cute-looking child. After being cut off from her family, trapped inside the research facility for over two hundred years, and realizing that she wasn’t Earth’s greatest hero—or heroine, it became her priority and life-affirming goal to be something more than a cute kid. She had become Professor Teri, a genius adult stuck inside a little body with the capacity to tinker, fix, or create anything. Being respected as an adult was the least she deserved, she thought to herself.

Bisel noticed how eager she was to continue working on her UHAT. He was amazed by her expertise and the way she spoke to him.

“It really is true, isn’t it?” he said. “That you were once a patient here?”

Teri stopped working on her UHAT’s arm again. This time she signaled Mar’kett to continue working on the tank without her. She then took off her goggles, leaning against the UHAT.

“After several decades of Gillian’s tests, he finally realized that nothing extraordinary would happen to me,” she said.

“Gillian?” said Bisel.

Teri nodded. “He was the very first chairman here. Vorty wasn’t even born at that time, but he’s practically Gillian’s clone,” she said, pouting. “Those kinds of kids never seem to be in short supply.”

“I see,” said Bisel, raising his eyebrows. He stepped aside, leaning on the banister beside him while engineers moved a massive weapon across the chamber. “But I must admit that I’m a bit confused. If you were once a patient, then how did you manage to join the committee and become an engineer?”

Teri wiped away some of the oil smudges on her dimples and replied, “Well, I somehow survived the treatment. But, like the others before me, I was considered a failure. Fortunately for me, since the committee felt I wasn’t a threat, they decided to release me from prison; however, I could never return to the normal life that they stole from me. I couldn’t even leave the facility. I was never able to see anyone again—my parents, my brother…no one.”

“It must have been horrible for you,” he said.

“That’s an understatement,” she said. “I’m still stuck here! For a while I longed for Vacuity. I wanted to die. It was the only way to put my mind at ease. Then I met someone very special: Levi Abecassis. At first, I thought he spoke to me out of pity. But I eventually realized that he was simply a good person. We became best friends.”

“Interesting, is Levi a scientist?” he asked.

“Levi was a technician, a master engineer,” she said in a depressed tone. An image of Levi suddenly appeared in her mind: his sly grin, his curly hair, and his thick beard. The smell of oil on his lab coat and the ingenious times they had together in the beta chamber flashed before her eyes. “He passed away over a century ago.”

“I’m really sorry,” said Bisel.

Teri looked down at the ground with teary eyes for a moment. “It’s all right,” she said. “It happens to us all. Well, except for maybe me.”

“Was he the reason you became a technician?” he asked.

“Well,” began Teri, smiling weakly, “I always had a fascination for engineering. I tried helping Levi in the beginning when he was too busy to visit me. At first he was hesitant about it. But he started to see that I had some potential. So, he eventually taught me a few things. And before anyone knew it, I was his assistant.”

“That’s amazing,” said Bisel. “And that’s how you joined the committee?”

Teri bobbed her head. “When Levi passed away, it became chaotic here. He was the lead designer in engineering, and he was also on the committee. So, Gillian and his colleagues relied on him for everything. Yet when I told Gillian that Levi had taught me everything, he got angry and thought I was joking. Gillian never believed in me. Instead he tried to make a fool out of me. But I sure showed him,” she said, smiling wickedly. “Cus I was secretly creating the very first prototype of the UHAT. And when I showed it to the committee, they couldn’t resist me.”

The original committee appeared in Teri’s mind as she recalled the time they stood in the beta chamber with her. They were stressing over the deadline of Levi’s unfinished work. None of them noticed Teri standing in the corner. She was rather enjoying the dismayed looks on their faces while they complained.

“Why did he have to die now?” said Gillian. “The military’s going to have our heads for this.”

“Not if you replace me as your lead designer,” said Teri, approaching Gillian.

“Teri?” said Gillian irritably. “What’s the meaning of this? I seriously advise that you go back to your room and stop pretending to be the child you were sixty years ago, unless you prefer Vacuity.”

Teri sighed. “I suppose none of you want to see my prototype? Sorry to say, but it totally blows Levi’s project away. Of course, it’s thanks to him that I was able to learn and invent it.”

The other members of the research committee looked baffled by her words.

“Have you lost your mind, Teri?” shouted Gillian. “Stop playing games and get the hell out of here!”

Teri clicked a button on the computer panel beside her, opening a hidden compartment from the chamber’s wall. The scientists immediately gasped, completely in awe of what stood before their eyes. It was an enormous humanoid tank.

“I’m calling it a UHAT: Universal Humanoid Adapting Tank,” she said, “which, in theory, adapts to our DNA and functions by the mere grace of our will.” Teri leaned on her UHAT while she added, “Now, about my position?”

Many of the scientists’ mouths were open; they were speechless. This was the first time Teri had impressed them. Teri thought to herself, she had finally done it; she’d finally proved that she could be more than be a cute jester in the UEC science facility. She wore the biggest smile on her face. Gillian, on the other hand, looked infuriated. He was about to scream at her, but before he could say anything the other scientists were already introducing themselves.

One of them said, “Glad to have you with us, Professor!”

It was a lost cause for Gillian.

“And that’s how I joined the committee and became a technician for mechanical engineering,” said Teri in the present, blushing and showing her dimples.

“Brilliant,” said Bisel. “You sure showed Gillian.”

“Yup!” she said, chuckling.

Bisel thought, She’s almost as innocent as a child, and yet she has the experience of an adult. I’ve never met anyone like her.

He lifted his hands off the banister he’d been leaning on and said, “Teri, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our chat, but I have to find Doctor Siyona and get a status report on Patient 683. When that’s out of the way, I’ll personally speak to her about a treatment to regress those effects that Gillian put you through.”

“Thanks, Nirally!” she said cheerfully, smiling.

Not many people called him Nirally, but for Teri he let it slide. He respected her, just as she had hoped he would. He smiled at Teri, saluted Mar’kett, and then left the chamber. Teri looked at Mar’kett who gave her a thumbs up. Together they continued working on the new UHAT for the next few hours.

Later that afternoon, Doctor Kraceir along with Doctor Siyona, Professor Punay, and Professor Mendolson, went inside Liagon’s cell.

“What is it this time?” said Liagon, scowling. Kraceir gradually activated the lights, unlike before when he beamed them all into Liagon’s eyes at once. “Well, that’s a first,” he added. “Learned a few things from that old bhikkhuni?”

“Actually, we have,” said Kraceir.

Doctor Siyona, Professor Mendolson, and Professor Punay smiled as they stepped farther into the chamber. They approached and surrounded Liagon’s bed, metal bars still keeping him at bay. Kraceir activated the computer console beside the platform-like bed, uploading Liagon’s mental patterns into his UND.

“Why are you here?” asked Liagon in a demanding tone.

“Liagon,” began Kraceir, “it seems that Tathagata wholeheartedly believes in you. She won’t help us anymore unless you’re freed. So, we had a meeting with Professor Vortzshmald and have decided to let you find Mother.”

“Is this a joke?” said Liagon.

“No,” said Kraceir. “But we’re trusting you to help us after you’ve found Mother. The vels have taken her to Yak-Shur. That’s all we know.”

Liagon looked suspicious but didn’t reject the proposal. The platform he lay on suddenly activated and hovered. The scientists held its handles, taking Liagon into the outer corridor. They traveled through an elevator portal and passed by Patient 683’s chamber. Liagon noticed a name on the door’s side panel, which caught his attention.

“Who is Elsa Bessero?” he inquired.

“Huh?” uttered Kraceir, somewhat startled as he gazed at the door, wondering what he could say to Liagon. “Oh, her? She’s one of our managers.”

Liagon knew that was a lie because the entrance to the chamber looked identical to his. He thought, There must be others like me. Finally, after several more minutes of the scientists escorting him through the research facility, they reached the sector of Vacuity.

“This is it, Liagon,” said Kraceir. “This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.”

The other scientists smiled at Liagon and then walked over to a corner of Vacuity’s intersection. Kraceir pushed Liagon’s prison bed forward until he reached a ledge where the stable polder of a black hole stood.

“What is that?” asked Liagon. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“It’s a portal to the Zortega Star System,” said Kraceir. “It’s where you need to go. Mother is there.”

“So then,” began Liagon, “is this the empty death or the good death?”

Doctor Kraceir squinted and then answered, “The good death, of course, where Mother is waiting.”

Liagon raised an eyebrow upon hearing Kraceir’s clever response. His heart pounded. He anxiously awaited his freedom but refused to show it. Finally, the modules imprisoning his limbs to the platform unlocked.

“You’re free now,” said Kraceir.

“I just have one more question before I see Fe’lora,” said Liagon.

Doctor Kraceir was surprised that Liagon only referred to Mother as Fe’lora instead of saying Mother or Mother Fe’lora. He nevertheless nodded. “Sure, ask away.”

“I’m curious as to why I deserve the good death,” said Liagon, lunging his fist through Kraceir’s chest, “when ‘good’ doesn’t even exist.” Kraceir gagged, blood dripping from his mouth. “What’s that, Kraceir? I can’t hear you,” he said, smirking. “No answer then? Oh well, I didn’t think you’d have one.”

Kraceir watched Liagon transform into the ferocious fe’lorian beast that he’d regrettably created, gagging louder. Without waiting another second, Liagon hurled him over the ledge. He fell into the black hole of Vacuity and was sucked into it. The other scientists screamed as they witnessed Kraceir die. Liagon turned around with an insidious gleam and immediately charged toward Doctor Siyona—his claw pierced her spine, causing her to croak and twitch. Professor Punay shrieked while Liagon drew forth his other claw, swiping her across the face with it. The walls surrounding Vacuity were drenched with blood, just as they were two years ago.

The bloody spine of Doctor Siyona was still attached to Liagon’s right claw. He flicked the spine off his hand and then gazed upon Professor Mendolson who stood by the opposite wall, frozen. Liagon gradually approached him, licking his lips.

“No! Please don’t kill me!” shouted Mendolson. “I’ve done nothing to you,” he said, quivering as though he were about to urinate on himself. “Please!” Liagon neither grinned nor frowned; he simply approached Mendolson with a lifeless expression. The only thing Mendolson could do was cry out, “No!”

In the meantime, Bisel made his way toward Patient 683’s cell. Upon approaching, Bisel found the door to her room unlocked, which surprised him. Peeking inside the room, he expected to at least see Doctor Siyona but instead noticed Tathagata meditating on the floor. Bisel stepped inside, annoyed.

“Who are you?” he asked demandingly.

“Tathagata,” she whispered.

“Huh?” said Bisel, flinching at her response. He glared at her, his face contorted. Bisel hated people who were religious or spiritual because he felt they were con artists looking for attention. One may say that there was a difference between the two labels, but they were all the same to Bisel. “What authority do you have to be inside here?”

“I’m the patient overseer,” said Tathagata in a quiet tone.

“I see,” he said. “Has she…”

“Awoken?”

“Yes,” he said.

“No, not yet,” she said.

Bisel nodded with a slight frown and approached Patient 683’s cylinder-shaped prison, which flowed with electrical currents and biochemical fluid. He stared hard into Patient 683’s pod and saw her hovering. The chemicals and water in the tube embraced Elsa, her auburn hair drifting upward.

For the first time, Bisel’s heart raced with excitement. He usually felt restless or angry. Bisel thought, he always followed protocol. Upon gazing at Elsa, however, he had the strangest desire to free and protect her. Even though she’d frightened him the first time he’d laid eyes on her, he felt there was something innocent about her. He admittedly felt a lustful craving to have her for himself, but the desire to protect her was stronger.

“She’s beautiful,” he said.

“Like an angel,” she said, still serenely meditating with her eyes closed. “Or perhaps more like a goddess?”

“There’s something special about her,” he said. “She hasn’t awoken, and yet—”

“And yet you feel 683 is promising?” she interjected.

“Without a doubt,” he said.

“Liagon has more potential,” she muttered.

“Excuse me?” he said, on the verge of shouting. “Did you just say that Liagon has more potential?”

Tathagata didn’t respond.

“More potential than 683?” he went on. “Liagon cannot be trusted; even Doctor Kraceir agrees with me.”

“Tathagata agrees as well,” she said calmly. “However, it doesn’t negate the fact that Patient 682 has shown great promise to aid us against the Vel’pheasian Empire. If we do not receive his help, the vels will surely kill us.”

“It’s too dangerous,” he said. “And if you’re some kind of bhikkhuni, you of all people should understand what needs to be done.”

“Sending Liagon into Vacuity out of fear will only prove that our fate should be no different than his,” she said. “We have to embrace our fear and overcome it.”

“You’re far too idealistic,” he said. “I’ll not hear another word about Liagon. If you’re truly the patient overseer, then from this day forward I want full reports from you concerning Patient 683’s progress. Is that understood?” Even though the lights were dim, Bisel could see Tathagata nod. “Good,” he added snobbishly. “Well then, since—”

The chamber suddenly had a blackout, and Patient 683’s platform shut down. Violent tremors shook the room, accompanied with deafening sounds of explosions coming from the outer corridors.

Bisel clicked his UND and established a vidlink with Mar’kett. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked.

“Liagon!” exclaimed Rena Mar’kett in a panicky tone, panting. She no longer wore her undercover research suit. She was running through a corridor in her military armor as she said, “He escaped!”

“What?” said Bisel in disbelief.

“He already destabilized the polder,” said Mar’kett. “Niralus, we need to get out of here now or else we’ll be engulfed into Vacuity!”

Bisel’s chest constricted. “Okay, meet me at Elsa Bessero’s chamber,” he said. “We need to get her out of here.”

“I’m already on my way,” said Mar’kett.

Bisel terminated the vidlink session. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered, losing his composure. He slammed his foot against Patient 683’s platform while shouting, “Fuck!”

Tathagata stopped meditating and approached Bisel. “Anger won’t help us, General,” she said. “We need to remain calm to get through this alive. Now, I’m going to release Patient 683’s restraints. Please carry her delicately and be mindful.”

“Just hurry up and get her out of there!” yelled Bisel.

Tathagata sighed, entering a code into the mainframe of Patient 683’s pod. In seconds the emergency generator turned on. Shortly after, Tathagata deactivated the pod’s constraints; the cylinder-shaped pod descended onto the floor and opened, causing the water and biochemical fluids to gush down. At that point, Patient 683, who was completely drenched, fell into Bisel’s arms. Upon seeing Bisel carrying Patient 683, Tathagata approached the chamber’s door and opened it.

“Don’t leave me,” murmured Elsa.

“What?” asked Bisel, flustered. “What did you say?” He was the only one who heard her speak, yet she was still in a mysterious coma. Bisel gazed at her beauty, utterly enthralled by it. “Don’t worry, Elsa. You’re safe with me.”

Mar’kett entered the chamber with an FG-80 in her hands while wheezing, trying to catch her breath.

“Good, you’ve got her,” said Mar’kett. “Let’s get out of here!”

“Follow me,” said Tathagata. “There’s a quicker way to reach the surface than the regular EP.”

The duo followed Tathagata, running through narrow and darkened corridors that were flickering what with the dysfunctional lights as explosions and vast amounts of steam erupted from the walls.

“How did this happen?” asked Bisel.

“I don’t know,” said Mar’kett, huffing and puffing. “Perhaps it was Vortzshmald. Maybe he released Liagon.”

Bisel scowled. “I’m going to kill him!”

“I said maybe,” replied Mar’kett. “I still don’t know what really happened.”

Just then, the trio heard an outcry nearby: “Help! Help! Somebody, please help me!”

Mar’kett turned around and looked at one of the side passages when she heard the little girl’s voice.

“That sounded like Teri,” said Mar’kett.

Bisel agreed. “Let’s find her,” he said.

Once again, explosions of flame spewed from the walls, loose wires dangling from the ceiling. Several scientists were lying on the ground with missing limbs. The trio saw blood all over the walls while the lights flickered. And at the end of the bloody corridor, where the ceiling had completely collapsed, lay Teri, crying. Most of the rubble had entrapped her legs.

“Rena!” cried out Teri.

“Don’t worry, Teri,” said Mar’kett. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Bisel handed Elsa over to Tathagata. He then uploaded his military armor from his UND and lifted up the debris that nearly crushed Teri. Finally, after groaning against the weight of the wreckage, Teri was able to slither aside. Though her legs were deeply cut, she could still move them. Mar’kett put Teri on her shoulders while Bisel grabbed Elsa back from Tathagata.

“Okay,” said Bisel, “lead the way.”

Tathagata strode through the maze-like passage of Sector V. Bisel and Mar’kett promptly followed her. They eventually reached a hatchway similar to the one Siyona had shown Bisel, which turned out to be a secret elevator portal. Tathagata attempted to dial a code into the door’s panel as fast as she could. It did not, however, work. Not five seconds later, another explosion occurred behind them.

Bisel grumbled. “We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m trying,” said Tathagata, trying to remain focused.

They abruptly heard Vortzshmald scream. Mar’kett turned around and aimed her gun at the passage opposite her, expecting the worse. The access door finally opened.

“Quick,” said Bisel. “Get inside.”

Vortzshmald appeared from the opposite end, limping toward them while they entered the elevator portal.

“Wait!” shouted Vortzshmald. “Wait for me!”

Glaring at Vortzshmald harshly, Bisel closed the elevator portal’s access door. It sealed just before Vortzshmald could reach the door. The chairman of the facility looked frantic as he banged on the door.

“Let me in!” he yelled.

“I think you need to visit Mother,” said Bisel.

“What?” said Vortzshmald. “How dare you! Open this door immediately!”

“Peace out, Vorty!” said Teri.

Mar’kett muttered, “Niralus…”

“Don’t even start,” said Bisel. “There’s no way I’m letting that scoundrel inside. Activate the EP. That’s a direct order from your commanding officer, Lieutenant.”

Mar’kett flinched. “Yes, sir.”

At that precise moment, Liagon appeared. He stood at the end of the passage, opposite Vortzshmald. Bisel spotted Liagon in the distance and gasped. Vortzshmald saw the look on Bisel’s face and knew something was wrong. He gradually turned around and screamed again, but this time his scream was more like Teri’s. Liagon pounced and gnawed his teeth deep into Vortzshmald’s neck; he then sucked all his blood and growled viciously while killing him. Liagon then threw Vortzshmald’s corpse against the wall and stared at the hatchway. Yet it was empty. Little did he know it was an elevator portal, and that it had already ported Bisel and the others up to the moon’s surface.

Bisel and his comrades ported into a sealed hanger where a research shuttle was parked. Even though they’d been safely ported to the surface, the moon still shook. The black hole was definitely increasing since the polder no longer functioned. It was only a matter of time until the moon would be consumed, thought Bisel.

“Vorty was clever to keep this a secret,” he said, looking at the shuttle.

Mar’kett rested the FG-80 on her right thigh and asked, “But how are we going to use the ship if our G-DNA doesn’t match Vortzshmald’s?”

“You’re forgetting that I’m a general and have full access to the GT,” said Bisel.

He laid Elsa beside the shuttle and used his UND to access the Galactic Terminal. After inputting the code used for the hanger, the shuttle activated. Bisel lifted Elsa and walked to the vessel, at which point the hanger’s door started to open. Seconds later, however, it jammed.

“Damn it!” said Bisel. “Why isn’t my code working?”

“Leave it to me,” said Mar’kett. She lifted her FG-80 and fired it, blasting a hole through the hanger’s entrance.

“Nice work, Rena,” said Bisel. “Time to get the hell off this rock!”

He stared at Elsa again as the others entered the shuttle. Bisel was completely captivated by her beauty. The moon trembled violently once more, bringing him back to the situation. He quickly went inside the ship and gently laid Elsa on a bench. He then went into the pilot chamber and noticed Mar’kett piloting the shuttle. She flew the vessel out of the moon’s orbit in no time. Delva, a yellow planet, could be seen in the distance. Teri sat in the passenger seat and looked out of the window, staring at Delva’s moon.

Bisel stood beside Teri, also gazing at the moon as it started to fold and crumble. He thought, all this happened because of Liagon. In a matter of minutes, Liagon had destroyed the UEC research facility, as well as the moon. Liagon was far too dangerous to be kept alive, he conceded. So many people had been killed because of him. Suddenly, the vel’pheasians were trivial. They were just an itch compared to what Liagon was capable of. The only good thing that came out of this tragedy, Bisel thought, was Liagon’s demise.

He heard Tathagata in the back, tending to Elsa’s fragility. It was only a matter of time before Elsa would awaken due to her lack of treatment, thought Bisel. Even though he could hardly wait for her to wake up, he didn’t seem too excited. Instead he looked unnerved as he gazed at Delva’s moon until it vanished into Vacuity.