Cerah

By Marius A Smith

Shortly before the fall of their empire, the Thalshuk created a prototype of an intelligent weapon called Paragon, which they thought would bring them ultimate victory in an ongoing war.

Disgruntled with her career and future prospects in Temporal Security, Cerah and her best friend Peter find themselves caught up in an unusual mystery when the time ship they're serving on is sent to investigate a change in human history that leads them to discover a member of the Thalshuk race millennia after their extinction. Following a murder on board their ship, coupled with unexplained appearances of more Thalshuk at different points in history, it soon becomes apparent that a powerful enemy is searching for the Paragon weapon, with the intention of using it against Earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marius A Smith
• Release date: Aug 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463378410

Marius A Smith

Marius Augustus Smith was born in 1981 in Adelaide, Australia, and is a life-long fan of science fiction. He has travelled to many places around the world, with many more he has yet to visit, although some destinations can only be travelled to in the mind (at least until the invention of warp drive!). Also having an interest in history, especially ancient cultures, and Egypt in particular, Marius has incorporated these interests into his books. His favourite authors include Alexandre Dumas, Kevin J. Anderson, Drew Karpyshyn, Anne Rice and J. K. Rowling. Some of his not-so-common experiences include shovelling coal in a 1920s locomotive, and being an extra in a police line-up. Marius currently lives in Australia with his wife.

Book preview

Cerah

Prequel Two of The Course of Time

Marius A. Smith

The Course of Time:

Larissa

Cerah

From Time to Time

The Time of Humanity

Time and Time Again

The Time of Sacrifice

Mysteries of Time

From the Depths of Time: Part One

From the Depths of Time: Part Two

Time’s Curse

In Times of War: Part One

In Times of War: Part Two

Copyright © 2024 Marius A. Smith

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

Published by Marius A. Smith at Smashwords

All historical individuals or places mentioned or referred to in this book are portrayed in a purely fictitious sense. All other characters are purely fictitious, and no resemblance to individuals living or dead is intended.

No part of this work may be reproduced or copied in any form without the prior permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

The Weapon

One way or another, we are all eventually swallowed by the gaping maw of time. Whether or not history remembers us is another matter entirely, but I’m confident that it will, as we will be the ones to write it, Controller Prela’t mused to himself as he contemplated their situation. He turned his attention to Deputy Asams’i as she approached from the other side of the control room.

The final stage is nearing completion, Controller, she reported crisply.

For the briefest of moments he allowed himself to admire her, as he often did without letting it show, and that admiration went beyond appearances. Like him, and all of the other military personnel in the research facility, she wore a long, hooded, sleeveless open robe that was a rich reddish-brown colour, decorated down either side of the chest with traditional symbols and military insignia. The rest of her uniform was comprised of a sleeveless black top, black slacks that were something between formal attire and fatigues, and combat boots. Clipped to her belt she wore an energy pistol on one side and a ceremonial dagger on the other. She wore the uniform proudly. Her bare arms were athletically toned, and like all of the Thalshük race, her ashen-olive skin was dry but smooth. Beneath her hood the natural grey hair of her species framed her young but wise face. She had a small vertical ridge that ran from her lower lip down her chin, where it ended in a short chin-horn; a distinctive trait of the Thalshük. Had she not been his subordinate he would certainly have pursued her as a mate, and he was confident that she would have reciprocated such a pursuit. But she was, and protocol, which they both held as sacrosanct, prevented any such union. Not to mention that he was several lives older than her. He quickly diverted his thoughts before her slitted, multi-spectral eyes discerned the subtle changes in his body temperature that such thoughts would induce. That’s excellent news. I’ve just received word that an Alliance battle-fleet has been detected entering the system.

You intend to test the weapon in battle? Asams’i asked in surprise. Would it not be more prudent to first test it in a controlled environment?

An active test will yield greater and more accurate results, and its use in the battle could spare the lives of thousands of Thalshük soldiers. Have you had any more trouble with our civilian scientist?

He’s making no secret of his reservations about the project, but he understands the cost if he becomes uncooperative.

He can think what he likes about it, as long as he does his job.

I’m keeping him under supervision as a precaution. He’s never permitted to work alone.

Prela’t considered for a moment. I’d like to speak with him, to gauge his state of mind for myself.

He’s in the creation chamber.

Prela’t nodded to the deputy, and left the control room at a brisk yet dignified pace.

The creation chamber was an extensive section of the facility, dominated by a huge upright tank in its centre that almost reached the high ceiling, surrounded by banks of instruments that were connected to it by numerous thick cables. A basic metal stairway led to an opening halfway up the tank, but at present its hatch was sealed. Military scientists were busily at work examining readings and ensuring that the weapon was being created exactly as intended. While the rest of the scientists were attired in sleeveless hooded robes similar to those of the military personnel, except deep violet in colour to denote their department, one man stood out in his plain green civilian robe, which had long sleeves and no hood. Enlisted in the project for his expertise in nano-crystallography, he was presently tracking the progress of the final stage of the weapon’s formation, a process that had already taken two full days during which he’d not been permitted to leave his station other than to briefly refresh himself. Instead of meals he’d only been given bland nutrient cubes so as not to delay or impede the process.

Prela’t went and stood beside him, and glanced at the readings on the man’s screen to make sure the timing of the conversation wouldn’t hinder the production of the weapon. The man was no doubt aware of him there, but didn’t even look away from the screen.

The work is progressing well, Brozn’ic, Prela’t commented.

The programming is being uploaded into the crystalline structure as it forms, effectively hard-wiring it into the weapon to prevent any possibility of external tampering, Brozn’ic responded.

Does the semi-fluidic nature of the crystals present a weakness in that regard?

Even if someone attempted to interface with it physically they’d be unable to do so. Although the weapon that they were creating was a technological masterpiece, there was no pride of accomplishment in Brozn’ic’s voice.

I understand you’re still very much opposed to the project.

As would anyone be who had a moral conscience.

Prela’t wasn’t deaf to the bitterness in the civilian’s voice. Do you not realise why you’re here?

Certainly I do. I’m here because you’re holding my daughters hostage, Brozn’ic replied, still not taking his eyes off of his screen.

You’re here to help ensure that our race is victorious, that we will reign supreme. Once we’ve finished this project your daughters will be able to live in a much safer world, free from the danger of enemy attacks. Certainly one that’s safer than if the Alliance manages to conquer us and win the war. Your work ensures the survival of our race and culture for generations to come.

I’m well aware that all of my work is being monitored for any attempt at sabotage, so you needn’t use conversational subterfuge to determine if I’m up to something. You’ll have the weapon that you asked for, exactly according to the specifications that you laid out.

And then you and your daughters will have your freedom.

I have your word on that, do I?

Had you agreed to participate willingly, things would have been so much more comfortable for you and your family, instead of how they are, and all for the same result.

Better to have been forced into cooperation than to have given it to such a cause willingly, Brozn’ic thought to himself. At least his conscience took some comfort from the fact that it was only through coercion that he’d contributed to the war at all.

Prela’t was sure he had a fair idea of what Brozn’ic was thinking as he continued to work. But despite the man’s reservations, it did seem as though he was carrying out his assignment correctly and precisely, which was all that mattered in the end, not that he had any real choice but to comply for the sake of his daughters.

As the controller started to walk over to another workstation, Brozn’ic turned and called out to him, Prela’t, have you even considered trying to find a peaceful solution to end this war?

Turning to face him, Prela’t said, I’m afraid that responsibility lies with my superiors. My thoughts on the matter have no bearing. He then continued on his way.

Returning his attention to the readings, and trying to push aside his resentment of the military’s unchecked authority, Brozn’ic’s scientific curiosity made him wonder what the partially formed weapon must look like inside the tank at this stage of its creation, as it grew towards its final form. He knew what the end result would be, and could picture the physical processes at work as more of the crystalline matter was fused together, adding ever greater complexity to what had started as an amorphic mass. Then something occurred to him, an unforeseen possibility that could either present devastating potential or a glimmer of hope. Mindful that he was under constant surveillance, he brought up the weapon’s programming on one of his screens as though simply double checking it. As he went through it he became ever more convinced that an artificial intelligence system with that level of complexity, when programmed into such an extensive lattice of pico-circuitry as that of the weapon’s entire physical make-up, would have the potential to develop into a basic level of sentience! It would be able to think for itself, which was an intended aspect of its design, but to the point of being able to understand the concept of right and wrong, and to effectively have a moral sense, or a conscience. Such a possibility hadn’t even been discussed during the planning stages. But it would all depend on what it was led to believe was right or wrong, having no experience of its own to draw from. If its morality was dictated by the Thalshük military it would become an aggressive entity of enormous destructive capability, and at their bidding it would be completely merciless. On the other hand, if someone with a more humane sense of the fundamental principles of good and evil in all of their varying degrees could be the one to teach it, it could become a weapon that was used against oppression and conquest instead of enforcing such things.

Although he was constantly aware that his daughters’ lives were at stake as much as his own, Brozn’ic decided that he had to act before it was too late, no matter the personal cost. Millions of lives were at stake, at the very least, across dozens of worlds. But there was nothing he could do until the weapon was complete. He just had to hope that no one else suspected what he was contemplating before then.

Everyone in the facility felt a momentary tremor through the ground, followed moments later by another stronger one.

Deputy Asams’i entered the chamber and hurried over to Prela’t as a couple more tremors rumbled through the facility. The city’s under bombardment. Should we prepare to evacuate?

No. They’re not targeting us. Even the local government doesn’t know we’re here. And even if the Alliance knew of our location, we’re far enough underground that they’d pose no real threat.

A scientist named Grüdn’yi came over to them. The final stage of construction will be complete in moments. Then all that remains will be to give it an initial infusion of energy. After that, the internally amplified piezoelectric charge generated by its own movements and functions will produce all the energy it will need.

As soon as construction is complete, carry out the energy infusion, and prepare to release the weapon, Prela’t ordered.

As you command, Controller, Grüdn’yi said, and returned to his station.

Brozn’ic overheard their conversation, and marched over to Prela’t. Are you mad? The weapon hasn’t even been tested yet.

This attack would seem to be a providential opportunity to test it. A series of tremors seemed to reinforce Prela’t’s point.

Brozn’ic could tell that he was trying the controller’s patience, but persisted, Any number of things could go wrong. His concern wasn’t really that the weapon might fail, but that he’d be denied any opportunity to interact with it before the controller did.

Prela’t glared at him. Need I remind you that your obstinacy could cause others to suffer?

The clear threat to his daughters wasn’t lost on Brozn’ic. In a less disagreeable tone, he said, I simply think that it’s a mistake to send it out prematurely. But of course that choice lies with you.

Indeed it does.

There was a deep hum of power as Grüdn’yi initiated the energy flow to charge the weapon. After a surprisingly short time of only a matter of seconds, the scientist announced to the controller, The weapon is active, and now operating under its own power.

Is the tank safe to enter?

Yes it is.

Prela’t quickly strode over to the stairway that led up to the tank’s hatch, followed by Asams’i and Grüdn’yi. Brozn’ic followed them up, fascinated to see the results of his work despite his disagreement about its purpose.

When Prela’t reached the hatch he didn’t hesitate to open it. Blue light spilled through the opening, and he and those with him gazed in awe at the scientific masterpiece that had been created.

Standing before them in humanoid shape was a being made entirely of deep blue crystal that glowed with its own inner light. Its entire surface looked perfectly smooth and hard like glass, yet flexible as it turned to face them. There were constant sub-surface ripples of energy all throughout its being. It was anatomically genderless, even in its body shape. Its face was not sharply defined, though the basic forms of nose, mouth and eyes were all present, but even its eyes were part of the same blue crystal form as the rest of it, like a statue carved from a single block without anything else added. It lacked any aesthetic additions, such as hair or nails. When it spoke its voice had an echoing ethereal quality to it, though it too was without gender. What is my designation?

Paragon, Prela’t replied. I am Controller Prela’t, and this is Deputy Asams’i.

I await instructions.

To Brozn’ic, the fact that Paragon’s first question was about its name seemed to confirm his suspicion that they’d created a sentient weapon, as it had already demonstrated a concept of self.

There’s a battle-fleet of enemy starships attacking the city above. You are to destroy them all, Prela’t ordered.

Acknowledged, Paragon responded impassively, and followed the others with a smooth, steady stride as they left the tank.

As soon as Paragon stepped out onto the small platform at the top of the stairs all of the scientists and military personnel in the chamber stopped what they were doing and gathered to see the weapon that they’d created.

Open the ceiling hatch, Prela’t ordered loud enough to be heard down in the chamber.

One of the scientists hurried over to a console and executed the appropriate command.

A wide circular hatchway in the ceiling above the tank slid open revealing a long chute leading up to the surface. The chute filled with the glow of sunlight as the surface hatch at the top also opened.

Needing no further instructions, Paragon levitated into the air and ascended up the chute.

Monitor its progress, Prela’t commanded as he and the others came down the stairs.

Grüdn’yi and Brozn’ic dashed over to their respective stations and brought up sensor telemetry of what was happening above ground. Prela’t and Asams’i stood back a short distance to be able to see both men’s displays.

Paragon has engaged the enemy fleet, Grüdn’yi reported.

Moments later, Brozn’ic added, Paragon has already destroyed four Alliance ships in the time it took the city’s defence towers to take down one.

Including one of their larger battleships, Asams’i observed on Brozn’ic’s display.

The weapon is magnificent, Prela’t said with pride, more to himself than anyone else.

Already the tremors from the bombardment above were becoming less frequent. It was only a couple of minutes before Grüdn’yi announced that the enemy battle-fleet had been completely destroyed, and that the weapon was returning to the facility.

Paragon descended from the chute and hovered in the air above the tank, still glowing with ripples of energy as much as it had been when they’d first set eyes on it. I await further instructions.

Return to the tank. We need to run some tests to determine what effects that battle has had on you, and to monitor your energy levels, Prela’t responded.

Acknowledged, Paragon stated, and glided back down to the platform at the top of the stairs before stepping back into the tank.

At a nod from Prela’t, Grüdn’yi closed the ceiling hatch.

I thought that as a Thalshük masterpiece it would bear more of a resemblance to our race, such as facial features, hair, or even musculature. Even its eyes are blank and featureless, Asams’i commented.

If it’s seen by our enemies on missions to other worlds its form will not betray who sent it, sparing us any reprisals that would threaten Thalshük lives, Prela’t replied.

A soldier entered the chamber and came over to them. Forgive the interruption Controller, Deputy, but our long-range sensors have just detected a much larger Alliance war-fleet approaching.

When will it arrive? Prela’t asked.

In approximately half an hour at their present speed.

Then the first attack was simply a large reconnaissance strike force, Prela’t concluded.

Numerous transmissions were detected being sent from them, no doubt informing their main fleet of our ships’ numbers and the positions of our ground defences.

As discreetly as he could, Brozn’ic made his way towards a particular sensor console that had a portable scanning unit resting on it, which was currently unattended, stopping at the console beside it. He brought up a schematic on the screen as though he was reviewing the details of Paragon’s complex crystalline lattice at a molecular level.

It would seem that the weapon is battle-ready, as we’ve just proven. I see no reason not to use it again, to see what it’s really capable of when it won’t run out of enemy ships to destroy quite so quickly, Prela’t said. He turned towards the console with the portable scanner, and seeing that Brozn’ic was the closest scientist to it, ordered, Brozn’ic, take that scanner into the tank and get some detailed readings of the weapon’s status, and check for any indications of battle damage. We need to know what limitations it may have.

As you wish, Brozn’ic responded, being careful not to sound enthusiastic about the task so as not to raise any suspicion. He picked up and activated the scanner unit, established a remote link with the console, and then took it up to the tank.

Once inside, he activated the scanner so that telemetry would start appearing on the appropriate screen out in the main chamber, for the sake of anyone who might start checking the results, and then put the unit down. Paragon was standing completely immobile, still radiant with energy, but otherwise like a statue.

A much larger Alliance war-fleet has just been detected approaching this planet, Brozn’ic informed it.

I am ready for battle, Paragon stated.

You must not destroy them.

Paragon looked directly at him with what was almost an expression of confusion. They are the enemy, and they are coming to attack. Why should I not respond?

Humour me for a moment. What is the purpose of a weapon?

A means to defend life from an attack that threatens it.

The attacking war-fleet is made up of numerous races who have joined forces in an effort to defend themselves from the Thalshük. The Thalshük are conquerors who have attacked each of their worlds for no other reason than to obtain their resources and enslave their people, as nothing more noble than simply tyrannous marauders, but on an interstellar scale. Those races have allied together to free themselves from Thalshük oppression. Were it not for that, they would not be coming here for battle. There are many more worlds at stake than just this one. Let me put it another way; is conquest and domination a worthy cause?

It is not. But you assisted in my creation. Why did you do so if you are opposed to the Thalshük cause?

I was coerced into helping the military on this project. They’re holding my daughters prisoner and would have killed them if I didn’t comply. And in all likelihood they will anyway once my usefulness has ended. That’s the sort of people the Thalshük are.

Not all. You are different.

There are good Thalshük, but mostly among the civilian populace who aren’t part of the government or military, and who aren’t assisting the cause of conquest, at least not willingly.

I cannot turn against my creators based on the opinion of one man.

Can you remotely interface with the facility’s military database without the fact being detected?

I can.

Then please do so. Review the historical files and mission directives. Analyse the impact that the Thalshük have had on other intelligent species such as the Lurxsa or the Thayaten. You will see what the Thalshük really are, how many worlds they’ve crushed, and how many lives and cultures they’ve destroyed. Your sentience was an unintended side effect of your design that no one else knows about, at least not yet. I’m confident that you’ll be capable of understanding the situation in terms of right and wrong, and that you’ll have the sense of conscience to make the right choice.

I have reviewed all historical and military files.

Brozn’ic knew that the design of its pico-circuitry made Paragon capable of processing information at much greater speeds than anything else previously created, but he was still surprised that it had accomplished it so quickly. And your conclusion?

The Thalshük cause is not just, Paragon said with complete certainty. They attack civilian and food production structures indiscriminately, causing unnecessary suffering, and do so without restraint or remorse. The Alliance does not. The Thalshük government only uses its cloning technology to extend the lives of government and military personnel, but not for the benefit of the Thalshük people. The Alliance races use their technology for the good of all of the people that comprise each of their races.

Knowing what is truly just is an inviolable principle. What will you do when the war-fleet attacks? Brozn’ic asked, daring to hope that he was right about Paragon.

I will assist the Alliance fleet in its retaliation against Thalshük military targets, but I will not attack civilians. I was wrong to destroy their ships during the first attack.

Brozn’ic thought he heard a hint of remorse in Paragon’s voice. We can’t change the past. We can only learn from it, and use those lessons to make better choices as we look to the future.

The Thalshük have temporal stasis technology.

That’s not the same as time travel, which at present is still beyond us.

When Controller Prela’t discovers that you have shown me the truth he will kill you and your daughters.

You can save them. They’re being held at the Yun’chet Detention Facility. I’m not so worried about what happens to me, as long as they’re safe.

I will save them, Paragon promised.

Thank you, Brozn’ic said with the utmost sincerity. I must go now or Prela’t might become suspicious.

When he learns of my choice he will attempt to destroy me.

I will do everything in my power to make sure that he cannot, Brozn’ic promised in turn. He picked up the scanner unit and left the tank with a parting glance back at Paragon.

What are the results? Was there any battle damage? Prela’t asked as Brozn’ic returned the scanner to the console.

None whatsoever, Brozn’ic replied.

It seems you’ve done well, Prela’t said. He went over to where Grüdn’yi was working, and ordered, Prepare to release the weapon again.

The war-fleet is breaking off into smaller groups to attack multiple targets, Asams’i informed him. Our battleships and frigates are standing by across the planet. No matter where they attack, we’ll be ready for them.

It wasn’t long before they received word that the Alliance ships had begun their offensive. As the strikes were not directly above the facility this time, there were no discernible tremors from the bombardments.

After ordering the ceiling hatch to be opened again, Prela’t led Asams’i and Grüdn’yi back up to the tank. This time Brozn’ic stayed behind at his console as though examining readings. As soon as the others were out of sight, he went over to Grüdn’yi’s console as quickly as he could without drawing the attention of the other scientists in the chamber. He brought up all of the files pertaining to the molecular structure of Paragon’s crystalline lattice, and proceeded to delete them.

In the tank, Prela’t informed Paragon, The Alliance war-fleet has begun its attack.

Before he could say anything else, Paragon simply walked past him and left the tank, pausing on the platform for only a moment before flying up through the ceiling hatch.

Being used to receiving an acknowledgement of anything he said, Prela’t took such behaviour as an affront, but then reminded himself that it wasn’t a person he was dealing with, it was a feat of technology, without any sense of respectful etiquette.

In the brief moment that Paragon stood on the platform, Brozn’ic had given it a subtle nod of moral encouragement. He couldn’t even be sure that such a gesture would have any meaning to the living weapon, but he hoped so. He noticed Prela’t, Asams’i and Grüdn’yi emerge from the tank and begin their descent down the stairs. As soon as the files had finished deleting, he went back to his console, and was relieved when they walked past him without having noticed his movements. In their eyes he was probably little more than a glorified slave, which generally put him beneath their notice unless they needed something from him. In this case it was a good thing. Now he just needed to figure out a way to escape before they discovered what was going on.

Asams’i went over to an unoccupied console and brought up the military feed to monitor the progress of the battle, which she relayed to Prela’t. The enemy war-fleet has broken into six groups, each larger than the reconnaissance fleet that attacked earlier. Our ships outnumber theirs, so we will quickly gain the upper hand, but they’re targeting the cloning facilities in each province’s capital and then moving on to the next province. She looked at Prela’t. If they destroy them all, none of us will be able to transfer to another body. This will be our final life.

Not bodies of our own, anyway, Prela’t said with a devious gleam in his eye.

Having overheard them, Brozn’ic realised that they’d be perfectly willing to steal the bodies of other people to continue their own lives without the option to transfer their minds into clones of themselves.

Controller, Paragon is attacking our ships! Asams’i suddenly realised in horror.

What? Prela’t had to see it on the screen for himself before he could believe it. How did this happen? Why would it turn on its creators?

Brozn’ic knew it wouldn’t be long before they suspected that he’d had a hand in it, so to throw off their suspicions, he called out, Controller, I think I may have an explanation.

Prela’t and the others hurried over to his console, where he’d brought up the files pertaining to Paragon’s programming, which were still there as he’d only deleted the files relating to its complex physical structure.

Knowing that it was something that they’d soon figure out for themselves anyway, Brozn’ic explained, I believe the weapon has developed a level of sentience due to the complexity and adaptivity of its programming, which has been replicated countless times throughout the pico-circuitry of its design.

That does sound like a plausible explanation, Grüdn’yi said as he looked over the programming with that now in mind.

It doesn’t explain why it would turn on us, Prela’t said.

At such an early stage, where its self-awareness is still blossoming, we couldn’t begin to imagine how much confusion there is in its rationality, Brozn’ic said.

So it may not even be possible to reason with it? Asams’i asked.

We won’t know that unless we can communicate with it.

It has communication systems embedded in its design, other than verbal, so that it can still receive new instructions while away on a mission, Grüdn’yi said, and attempted to establish a communication link with Paragon. After several failed attempts, he reported, It’s refusing to communicate.

Just as Prela’t was dreading to think what his superiors would say about his failure on this project, and what the punishment might be, a soldier came up to him and said, Controller, the Overlord has ordered you to make contact with him immediately.

Prela’t dismissed him and went to a console that was away from everyone else.

While he was doing that, Grüdn’yi said, How could we have not anticipated this?

How could we have? It wasn’t an intended aspect of the weapon’s design, Brozn’ic said, going along with his confusion. It wasn’t supposed to have autonomous decision-making capabilities, only tactical analyses.

Asams’i viewed the military feed with despair. Because of Paragon, the tide of battle has shifted in favour of the Alliance. We’ve already lost hundreds of warships and dozens of military bases.

Can’t we call for reinforcements from other sectors? Grüdn’yi asked.

They’re already on their way, but by the time they get here our military force will have been greatly diminished, and there’s no guarantee that they’ll be able to stop Paragon. As far as I can tell, it still hasn’t suffered any damage.

Brozn’ic was secretly delighted to hear that, having been unsure of what Paragon’s limitations actually were. He was also mindful that he was running out of time to make an escape attempt.

Prela’t returned to them. The Overlord has ordered that the weapon be destroyed.

Does he have any idea how? Because I don’t, Grüdn’yi said with exasperation. We designed it to be as close to indestructible as possible.

If we attack it, it’s certain to destroy us, and we’re the only ones who know anything about its design, Asams’i said.

It’s made of crystal, isn’t it? Surely an ultrasonic burst would be able to shatter it, or at least damage it or disrupt its energy sufficiently for other weapons to be more effective, Prela’t reasoned.

Despite its appearance, its crystalline structure is in a perpetually semi-fluidic state, so even that might be ineffective, Asams’i said.

A sustained burst at exactly the right frequency could still cause a resonance that would be strong enough to shatter it, Grüdn’yi said.

How sure are you? Prela’t asked.

I’m certain, Controller.

Have a sonic cannon brought to this chamber. It’s likely that it will return here at some point.

At once.

Just as Grüdn’yi was about to leave, Brozn’ic said, I’ll do it. Grüdn’yi is needed here to make the necessary calculations to get the frequency exactly right.

Very well. But be quick about it. And have them send three cannons, just to be sure. As Brozn’ic hurried away, Prela’t called out to him, It looks like you’ll get your wish; you’ll finally get to destroy this weapon that you wanted no part of.

Indeed, Brozn’ic said, and continued on his way.

Grüdn’yi went over to his console to prepare the calculations, but quickly realised that something was wrong. Controller, all of the files pertaining to Paragon’s physical design have been deleted. Without them I can’t possibly calculate its resonance frequency.

Asams’i almost knocked him out of the way to get at the console. According to the logs, they were deleted from this workstation.

Knowing the temperament of military officers, Grüdn’yi quickly explained, I’ve been with you both the whole time. There must be an enemy infiltrator who accessed my station remotely to cover their tracks.

With a suspicion in mind, Asams’i went back to the console where she’d brought up the military telemetry and scanned through the list of Paragon’s targets. I knew it! The Yun’chet Detention Facility has been attacked. According to the report, Paragon slaughtered the guards and allowed the political prisoners to escape, including Brozn’ic’s daughters.

I’ll have his head for this! Prela’t hissed venomously. And the heads of his daughters. I want him brought back here at once.

Asams’i was already issuing orders to that effect through her personal communication unit.

But how could Brozn’ic have reprogrammed the weapon? Its programming is hard-wired into the pico-circuits of its crystalline lattice, precluding any such possibility; a fact that Brozn’ic knew, Grüdn’yi asked.

We wanted to reason with it, Brozn’ic did it first, Prela’t concluded.

There’s still the question of destroying it, Asams’i said. Otherwise this weapon could single-handedly bring about the demise of the Thalshük Empire.

We might not be able to destroy it, but we can imprison it, Prela’t said. We’ll need a temporal stasis containment field.

I’ll have one set up right away, Grüdn’yi said.

Direct the field to form just below the ceiling hatch. That way by the time the equipment is in Paragon’s line of sight it will already be within the field. Activate it the moment Paragon’s inside it.

While Grüdn’yi went to make the needed preparations, two soldiers brought Brozn’ic into the chamber, struggling and fighting their efforts to restrain him, but to no avail.

I know you have no love for the military or this project, but you would go so far as to betray your own race? Prela’t asked as he went over to Brozn’ic. Without another word, he drew his ceremonial dagger and thrust it into Brozn’ic’s abdomen.

Brozn’ic slumped weakly into the grasp of the soldiers, unable to voice the many things that he would’ve liked to say to Prela’t, even though they would’ve been in vain.

Before the life faded from Brozn’ic’s eyes, Prela’t said to him, If it’s any consolation, your daughters will soon be joining you. I will find them. He withdrew his dagger, and Brozn’ic let out a final sigh. With the soldiers still holding the body up, Prela’t wiped the dark green blood from his dagger on Brozn’ic’s robe and then sheathed it, and gestured for the soldiers to take the body away.

Grüdn’yi returned with three other scientists, all four of them wheeling in a heavy piece of equipment with a complex emitter on the top. We’ll set up at the four corners of the room, that way they’ll be out of the weapon’s line of sight until it’s too late. The moment you see the weapon, activate your emitters, Grüdn’yi ordered the others.

Once they were all in place, they aimed their emitters just below the ceiling hatch and put them on standby. Their instruments showed that the focal point where the beams would intersect was directly below the hatch as intended.

Watching the scientists prepare the trap, Asams’i said to Prela’t, Suppose the weapon doesn’t actually come down here, that it destroys this facility from above ground? I’m sure it’s capable of doing so.

It certainly is, but if it has indeed developed sentience, I’d be willing to wager that it’s not prepared to risk killing its one friend, Brozn’ic, Prela’t said.

You’re counting on it having a conscience or a sense of loyalty after it just turned on the race that created it?

If it’s alive it will seek companionship, and as yet it has no one to turn to but Brozn’ic.

Then I hope the temporal stasis field idea works. Once it learns that Brozn’ic’s dead it won’t hesitate to kill us all.

The weapon is on course back here! a scientist manning a sensor console announced anxiously.

Grüdn’yi and the other three were poised over their activation switches. The moment Paragon descended through the ceiling hatch they activated their emitters. There were no visible beams, but where they intersected a red haze surrounded Paragon like a bubble, and it immediately became motionless just below the hatch. Even the energy ripples throughout its body didn’t move. It was frozen in an instant of time.

Asams’i breathed a sigh of relief, having lacked Prela’t’s certainty that it would work, especially with temporal mechanics still being in the early stages of development. How long will it be able to hold the weapon?

Indefinitely. It’s trapped in a moment of time. Nothing can escape that, not even Paragon. We’ll have a temporal stasis pod raised to encapsulate it, and that will become its permanent cell until we can find a way to destroy it. We’ll begin work on a second weapon, one with much more restrictive programming parameters this time, Prela’t said.

It will take time for the scientists to redevelop the physical aspects of the weapon, with all of the files erased. The research and design process took several years before this one was created.

True. But now the scientists have a greater understanding of it, so it won’t take as long the second time around. All Brozn’ic has done is delay us. Paragon’s physical parameters were perfect, so I want any subsequent models to be the same. Eventually we’ll be able to construct armies of them. The universe will fall to its knees before the might of the Thalshük Empire! Prela’t said, the zeal of conquest and glory in his eyes. We are after all the race that overcame the Vihl.

Where can we store this weapon where it will be safe from anyone who might try to release it?

There’s only one place: the Mord’thet Prison Station, where every holding cell is in temporal stasis.

I’ve never heard of it.

It’s an ultra-high-security prison facility in a remote part of deep space. It’s so top secret that even I don’t know its exact location. But rest assured, it will be quite safe there.

Chapter 2

1492

It was the 29th of March in the year 2509. On the time station Epoch, one of two massive time stations in a high orbit above Earth, Cerah made her way through the dense crowd in Green Tim’s restaurant, forcing herself to not take out her frustration on each person that was in her way. She finally made it to where Peter was sitting at a table by a window that overlooked Earth below with two identical drinks in cocktail glasses in front of him. He was dressed casually, just as she was, his personal grooming as impeccable as ever. Like an old-fashioned gentleman, he stood when he saw her approach.

Cerah sat down opposite him, and said, glancing at the glasses, A bit thirsty tonight?

Peter took his seat, and after they did their customary two-finger handshake that finished with a little snap-back, he lifted one of the glasses, gracefully holding it with the stem resting between his fingers, and offered it to her. You look like you could use one of these.

What is it? Cerah asked, accepting it.

A haemohol vesper martini.

Cerah accepted it and took a sip. Not bad.

So, what’s the matter?

I just got off a call with my sister.

I don’t think I need to ask how it went.

About as well as usual. I don’t know why I bother trying to reach out to her. Sometimes she still acts like she’s seventeen, which she hasn’t been for well over a century.

If I may pose a thought?

Cerah nodded and took another sip.

Consider letting go of the big sister approach, and just try speaking to her as one friend to another, Peter said, and savoured a sip of his own drink.

Trust me, we’re not friends. I don’t think I could connect with her no matter what approach I use. We always end up falling back into the same old pattern.

"Still, you should give yourself points for trying. It’s just unfortunate that trying