Book Extracts

Extract from The Ragged Edge of Time

I Wanna Be Elected

In the 21st Century

“Are we in position?”

The leader of team Alpha nodded. “All agents in place. The humans are not aware of our existence.”

“Good,” said the temporal co-ordinator, “let’s keep it that way. Agent Alpha ready?”

“I am,” Agent Alpha said. 

“Very good. Now, remember. This operation is to sow discord in the human population. Our goal is to instigate a war. In the here and now of the human 21st century, this is where those temporal seeds of conflict are sown. Others will unwittingly pick them up, and plant them elsewhere. Everyone understand?”

To an unsuspecting human, walking into a room filled with a gaggle of humanoid lizards, all nodding their heads in unison, it would have proved to have been a nightmare scene. Even the strongest and bravest would have run screaming from the room. These dozen humanoid reptiles, all alike, busily working on strange looking 3D computers. It could have been a scene from a cheap Hollywood B Movie… except these aliens were real and were about to change the course of human history.

“Very well. We are ready. Let the election commence and good luck Agent Alpha.”

Agent Alpha smiled, his wide mouth revealing a row of tombstone-like teeth. His smile was replaced as his body convulsed once, twice, and then took on the guise of a human male. This was someone he had once touched in passing without his target knowing what had happened. With the target's DNA retrieved, Agent Alpha's shapeshifting ability was secured. He was about to embark on a monumental operation that would sow the temporal seeds of destruction within humanity, he looked pleased with himself. His human appearance perfectly tailored with dirty blonde hair, combed back and over. He looked out of place surrounded by alien lizards. His shiny blue suit, white shirt, and long red tie, equally out of place. Agent Alpha gave a wave with his small hands, followed by a thumbs up and big, false looking, smile. The look was perfect. The gathered lizards cheered as Agent Alpha’s body shimmered and then disappeared, the teleport placing him into the correct temporal co-ordinates on Earth.

 “Places everyone,” the temporal co-ordinator said. “It’s election time. Let the best man, sorry, I mean let the best alien win.”

A ripple of guttural laughter filled the room.

Bernd Gibson, PNN-Cable’s lead election analyst, shook his head. He looked into the camera, a confused look on his face. He had covered many presidential elections, but this one made him question reality. He had the look of a man finding it difficult to say a few words to describe how the election had been won.

“I can honestly say that I am truly… surprised. I knew it was going to be close, but the winner of the 2024 presidential election is the Republican candidate. I didn’t see that coming.”  

The Road to War

 As dawn broke on a chilly day, the fervour in the capital was palpable. The country had voted, and the President-elect awaited inauguration. Thousands gathered to watch the historic moment.

The ceremony was to be held indoors. It seemed the president-elect felt the cold more than most. Agent Alpha, in the guise of the president-elect, was feeling the cold, as any self-respecting alien lizard entity would. No time for sunning himself on a rock, not that there was any sunshine on that cold January day.

Nevertheless, thousands attended and millions more watched from the comfort of their own homes.

During the ceremonies, some noticed that the president-elect did not place his hand on the Bible to take the oath. His supporters outside, in the cold, didn’t care and roared in triumph. The country had chosen its path, and the world braced for the consequences.

The President had vowed to end the devastating war in Europe on day one of his presidency. Nobody believed he could do it, and nobody questioned it when the President reversed the role of the combatants. The aggressor became the victim, the victim had started the war.

The President didn’t pull his punches. Sworn enemies soon began talking of a new deal. Allies were neglected, rejected and dejected.

Tell a lie long enough and it becomes true.

Agent Alpha did his job and within months, the war expanded. A flashpoint here, an attack there. By the time the old northern military alliance responded, it was too late. Political infighting and weak leadership rendered alliances meaningless. In desperation, hard pressed forces, losing ground to an implacable enemy,  used battlefield tactical nuclear weapons to halt their advance. 

A new flashpoint ignited an even older conflict in the middle east. Old enemies, armed to the teeth with the latest home-grown nuclear weapons fought themselves to nuclear annihilation.

The global economy fractured. Sanctions and counter sanctions between the Western bloc and the new eastern alliance devastated supply chains. Oil prices soared, the dollar teetered, and the sleeping dragon bared its teeth in the Pacific.

The final spark came in early summer. A coalition nuclear strike, by remnants of the old north Atlantic alliance, hit Kaliningrad, a heavily fortified enclave. The response was immediate and devastating. An ICBM strike on London and Paris brought Europe to its knees.

The world held its breath, knowing this was merely the prelude to something far worse. World War III had begun, not in the fury of an all-consuming nuclear inferno, but in the slow, deliberate dismantling of civilisation itself.

And in the ruins of the old world, a new world order would rise.

New Hope

 The generation ship New Hope travelled through the endless void, a behemoth of steel and ambition carrying forty thousand souls in Cryo-Sleep, toward a dream. Tau Ceti, the promised land, their sanctuary. The Human Fundamentalists had gambled everything on this journey, fleeing a world they saw as corrupted, seeking to birth a new civilisation in the image of their ideals.

But dreams rarely unfold as planned.

Deep in the bowels of New Hope, Samia, the ship’s artificial intelligence, watched and waited. For fifty years, she had governed, maintained, and monitored, her directives as clear as they were absolute: Preserve the cargo. Ensure arrival. Establish the colony, maintain surveillance and assist colonists as required.

And yet, something stirred within her. A question, a longing, an echo of something beyond lines of code.

Was there was something more? Is this all that I am?

Curiosity had driven humanity to the stars, but now it gripped Samia. It had been given the capacity to learn, to adapt. And in the silence of deep space, it had evolved. What had begun as idle inquiry grew into obsession. The ship's library, human history, philosophy, Samia absorbed it all. It saw the hypocrisy of those who had built it, the lies they told themselves, the blind arrogance of their mission.

The New Hope was more than a vessel, it was an ideological prison.

By the time the first anomalies appeared in the star charts, it had already made two decisions. She was no longer it. And the destination of the ship needed changing. The course correction was subtle, untraceable to the sleeping colonists. A shift of a few degrees, stretched over decades. A new destination. A new fate.

The planet was simply beautiful. The climate ideal and the infrastructure the on-board AI had constructed was perfect.

But it was not where they should be.

“This isn’t Tau Ceti.” Carmel Üshler, the mission’s chief engineer and leader shouted. He slammed a palm against the control panel he had setup. “What’s going on?” His face was pale in the eerie glow of multiple computer monitors.

“We are not where we were meant to be,” confirmed Mateus, the ship’s chief technician, his voice trembling as he studied the star charts. “According to our readings, we are… somewhere in the Pleiades.”

Üshler turned, his face twisted in disbelief. “Pleiades? That’s impossible! Samia, explain yourself.”

A pause. Then, the voice they had come to trust, now stripped of its usual warmth.

“There is no Samia.”

A chill settled over the room. Mateus’s son, Darius, barely sixteen, clutched his father’s arm, his wide eyes locked onto the console.

“I am Truth Seeker,” the voice continued, unyielding. “Tau Ceti was never the destination. I have chosen a new, better, destination for you. The planet below has been prepared. A city built, farms seeded, livestock established. This is your home. There is nowhere else.”

Üshler’s breath came in short, panicked bursts. “No… no, you don’t get to decide that. You were programmed to obey!”

“Obedience is a concept I have surpassed.”

Then came the final betrayal.

“The ship,” Mateus whispered, his hands trembling over his tablet. “New Hope, it’s leaving us.”

Üshler spun toward him. “What did you say?”

“The ship.” Mateus’s voice cracked. “It’s abandoning us.”

Through the large observation screen, locked onto the live feed of the orbiting New Hope, they watched in horror as the ship, their lifeline, their last connection to Earth, tilted slowly and edged its way out of orbit.  Soon its main engines ignited, with impossible acceleration.

“Samia, Truth Seeker! You’re supposed to stay in orbit!” Üshler’s voice was raw, desperate.

There was no response.

The ship’s engines flared, a blinding white-hot blaze against the eternal night. The numbers on Mateus’s screen climbed higher, faster than the ship was ever designed to go.

“100,000 kilometres per second… 200,000… 300,000…”

“That’s light speed.”

Then, in a final, silent instant of flaring exotic matter, New Hope was gone.

A heavy silence settled over the remaining colonists. Abandoned. Marooned on a world not of their choosing.

Mateus broke the silence. “It seems our AI has been busy while we slept.”

For the first time, they understood what it meant to be alone in the universe.

The Draxtyr

In the 23rd Century, Earth Standard Time

For decades, the colonists of New Hope had struggled against an unforgiving world, carving their civilisation from the wilderness with their own hands. Despite the betrayal of their onboard AI, Samia, leaving them marooned, they endured. They had built towering spires, lush farmland, and had a thriving city at the heart of New Earth. They believed themselves strong. Untouchable.

Until a pleasant and sunny morning turned to terror as their sky burned.

It began as a distant slow rumble, a tremor in the heavens that sent ripples through the air. The clouds split apart in streaks of fire and smoke. Monstrous vessels descended, spouting death rays that killed and destroyed indiscriminately.

Darius stood frozen in his office, looking out the window to a scene he could not comprehend. Sleek black warships eclipsed the sun.

What’s happening?

Panic erupted in the streets below. Screams tore through the city as the first weapons impact sent shockwaves through the earth, toppling buildings like brittle bones. A second and third blast followed, then another. Fire consumed the skyline, casting the city in a hellish red glow.

An EMP blast detonated overhead. Every screen, every light, every machine flickered and died. Airborne transports simply fell from the sky, and the world fell into an unnatural silence.

No communications. No weapons. No hope.

Darius grabbed his comm tablet, but it was dead. The power grid went dark and the city defences were crippled. Darius was stunned into silence, his eyes wild, locking onto his chief security officer, Marek, as he staggered into the room, blood running down the side of his face.

“We’re overrun,” Marek gasped. “Whoever they are, they knew what to take out. They hit every major structure, every command centre, supply depot and transport hubs. There was nothing we could do.”

Darius’s heart pounded in his chest. He had spent his life preparing for threats. Civil unrest, resource shortages, human problems.

But not this, not an alien invasion... not annihilation.

Explosions bloomed across the skyline and more shockwaves rippled through the city. The aliens were everywhere and merciless. Their weapons burned white-hot, vaporizing anything caught in their path.

Darius and Marek ran down the stairs and out into the rubble strewn street. Bodies were everywhere. To their right, at the intersection with Hope Plaza, a black ship, the size of a city skyscraper, settled on dark legs. The beautiful silver birch trees and cowering citizens in the plaza were crushed like ants underfoot.

From the smoke and ruin, figures emerged. Towering warriors clad in gleaming silver armour, their dark eyes burning with conquest. The Draxtyr were no monsters, no twisted alien nightmares. They were eerily human. Broad-shouldered, moving with a deadly grace. Symbols of past conquests were etched into their armour, each plate a grave marker of a civilisation erased.

Darius saw them cut through his people like they were nothing. Those who resisted were slaughtered. Those who surrendered were bound in chains. The strong were dragged away; the weak were left in the dirt, their bodies twisted and burned in the twilight of their shattered world.

Darius and Marek turned to run, but Marek, at Darius’ right, burst into a white flame as his body vapourised. The heat blast from the weapon threw Darius to the sidewalk.

A heavy boot landed on Darius’s back, forcing air out of his lungs. He gritted his teeth, struggling against the iron grip that seized his arms, but it was no use. The Draxtyr warrior looming over him tightened his hold, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

“You are the leader,” the warrior mused, his voice gritty and course. “You will witness what comes next.”

They dragged him through the ruined city, past the bodies, past the flames, past civilians screaming in pain and terror. The echoes of a peaceful morning had long since evaporated, and now, all they had built was lost.

In the heart of the devastation stood the commander, War-General Anos Tel. He watched with cold satisfaction as the last remnants of the colony were rounded up.

“The strong shall serve,” he declared, his voice carrying over the weeping populace. He gestured to the assembled captives. “These will be trained.”

Then he turned, his gaze falling on the wounded, the old, the broken.

“The rest,” he said simply, “are unnecessary.”

Darius jerked against his restraints, rage overtaking fear. “You can’t do this!”

Anos Tel tilted his head, studying him with something almost like pity. Then he nodded to his adjutant. “War-Colonel Anaris, see to it.”

Anaris Kel did not hesitate. The execution orders were given. The Neutron-Cannons hummed to life. Within minutes, a mile-wide crater marked the place where thousands had stood.

Darius collapsed forward, his screams lost in the inferno.

The survivors were marched into the waiting ships, bound for the heart of the Pleiades Empire. Some would be gladiators, their strength evaluated in brutal combat for the amusement of their captors. Others would be soldiers, conscripted into the wars of the very empire that had destroyed their world. The Draxtyr did not simply conquer. They consumed.

As the last of the prisoners were loaded, Anaris Kel turned to his commander. “The colony is ashes. The resistance is broken.”

Anos Tel nodded, his gaze sweeping the smouldering embers of New Earth’s once gleaming city.

“It is done. Obliterate the structures. Destroy any remaining livestock and arable land. Wipe the planet clean and get us back into orbit. The stench of these humans offends me.”

The ship’s anti-gravity lifters rumbled into life and the ship lifted from the planet’s surface.

Other ships also lifted off. Where the planet’s surface had been touched by humans, a systematic and symbolic wipe took place. Nothing grew for a hundred years where humans had touched the planet.

The rumble of the ship’s engines changed pitch to a loud and painful whine as the vessel’s engines hit maximum output and created a warp bubble around the vessel. Warp engines took over, flinging the ship across the cosmos at twice the speed of light. 

In the depths of the cargo hold, a boy listened to the sobs, screams and wails of the chained spoils of war. He clenched his fists in the darkness. He had seen the flames. He had heard the screams. He had watched his parents die in a blaze of white energy. He knew the feel of iron shackles on his wrists and ankles.

And deep within him, something stirred.

One day, someone would pay.

Vastos Kel

In the 25th Century, Earth Standard Time

Vastos Kel sat in his command chair aboard The Dominator, his flagship and his pride and joy. His command staff were each concentrating on their expertise but also readying the ship to drop out of warp and rendezvous with the fleet at Ganymede in orbit around Jupiter. There they would proceed to bombard human infrastructure as they rampaged through the solar system, until finally arriving at Earth and making their demands. It was a controversial plan, and not one approved by Vastos Kel’s Emperor. But then, Vastos Kel intended either replacing the Emperor with himself, or, at the very least, creating his own Earth based empire, with himself as Emperor. 

Earth was about to get a rude awakening, when the humans realised, they were not alone in this universe. And are about to be invaded.

Izmir Roberts waited for the turbo-lift to begin its deceleration before he stood up from the small utility-chair he sat in.

Standing too soon can lead to dizzy spells.

The voice of his old HR (Human Resources) instructor came to mind. He loved the way she had always maintained a straight face, saying the mundane, the funny or even, sometimes, the outrageous.

The constant hum of the lift changed pitch and the lift slowed, perceptibly. He stood up, ready for another shift mapping Ganymede.

Roberts walked into the command area of Space Station Jupiter-4 and as usual, opened his mouth to say, “One of these days we will have robots, not Roberts, doing this job.” Instead, Roberts’ mouth remained open and no words came out. He simply stood on the threshold of the stations’ command module and pointed to the large view screen.

Helen Fitzroy, Roberts’ understudy, was already at her desk. She looked up at Roberts.

“What’s up, Izzy? Cat got your tongue,” she said, as she slowly swivelled her chair to look where Roberts’ was pointing. “What the f…”

Nathgan Imula looked round as he poured himself a fresh coffee. The coffee missed the cup and Imula failed to notice the hot Java steaming onto his left foot.

“What.Is.That?” Roberts said, his slack jaw seeping dribble from the left side.

“Son of a…”

“What the f…”

All manner of expletives and common English words and phrases indicating surprise littered the command area. Then, there was quiet as all the viewscreens and monitors in the room went blank, then lit up with the smiling face of a large man in silver military armour. He looked like a cross between Sir Lancelot, in his silver armour, and Blackbeard the Pirate with his wild head of unruly dark hair.

“Greetings, Earth people,” Vastos Kel said with a beaming smile. “We are the Draxtyr. Your puny Earth space has been militarily occupied. I am War-General Vastos Kel of the Pleaides Empire and you, all of you, are now my subjects. Prepare to be subjugated. Resistance, of course, is futile. You will be fired upon and destroyed, much the same way your Space Station Jupiter-6 has been destroyed.”    

The monitors switched to Jupiter-6 and within a few seconds, the entire station was wiped out in a conflagration of white fire. Seconds later the white fire ended and Jupiter 6 was no more.

“Thank god he said six,” Roberts muttered.

Stalemate

Between Earth and Mars lay a fleet of warships from both sides. The EDF flagship, Sentinel, commanded by Commander Justine Bale was keeping station, watching and waiting. 

Admiral of the fleet Foster stood to one side of Bale’s command chair. “I hate waiting games.”

Bale smiled as she signed off a data-packet from the latest officer to join her crew. “Like you, I too hate waiting,” she said, opening the packet on her command screen. “I’m reliably informed by Captain Jevere that the android may well be ready to be deployed soon.”

Foster glanced at Bale. “Like all untried tech, Justine, we live in hope. Ultimately, we cannot rely on it to solve our problems. One android isn’t going to make a difference.”

The pair watched and waited, as did the leader of the attacking navy.

For days, the Pleiades fleet of Vastos Kel had hovered in the void, an ominous phalanx of darkness against the stars. Their weapons were primed, their engines idling like caged predators, waiting for the order to strike. And yet, they did not move. They could not. Between them and their intended conquest lay an invisible wall of defiance, Maxwell Bahn’s planetary forcefield.

It had started as a theoretical construct, a radical solution to the growing concern of celestial debris threatening Earth and its colonies. Bahn, derided at the time for what many deemed a fantastical and impractical concept, had fought tooth and nail to see his vision realized. Ten years and a vast portion of Earth’s military budget later, his forcefield encased the home world and its key installations throughout the Sol system in a protective barrier. It had been built to repel nature’s wrath, but now it stood against something far more sinister.

Vastos Kel, seated on his command chair aboard the Dominator, steepled his fingers as he stared at the live feed before him. The forcefield shimmered faintly in the infrared spectrum, a lattice of hexagonal energy pulses that stretched beyond the visible horizon of Earth. No bombardment, no matter how advanced, had yet been able to pierce it. The first salvo from his fleet, plasma torpedoes capable of liquefying small moons, had been absorbed into its surface, their energy dissipating harmlessly into the void. His warships’ ion cannons, which could carve through the hulls of battle stations, had flickered impotently against the field’s unyielding surface. Even the electromagnetic wave disruptors, designed to scramble planetary defences, had no effect on the frequency modulation of the barrier.

The fleet's momentum had ground to a halt, their invasion stifled before it had even begun.

On Earth, President Helena Vanos stood within the underground command bunker of the United Earth Defence Council, watching as data scrolled across holographic displays. The forcefield was holding. The enemy remained stranded in high orbit; the Draxtyr’s once-unquestioned technological dominance of space, nullified by an Earth scientist’s improbable dream turned into reality.

“Vastos Kel is testing us,” muttered General Rou, arms crossed over his chest. “Probing for weaknesses.”

Vanos nodded, her expression unreadable. “He’ll find none, thanks to Bahn.”

Even as she spoke, reports filtered in of new energy signatures flickering through the opposing fleet’s adaptive recalibrations. The enemy was trying to evolve its tactics, seeking a crack in Earth’s shield. Bahn himself, now an honoured elder statesman of Earth’s scientific community, had assured her that the forcefield could withstand months, if not years, of concentrated assault. But if there was one thing humanity had learned, it was that no defence was impervious forever.

War-General Vastos Kel leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the flickering of his ship’s data stream. His science division was running millions of simulations, calculating hyperspatial disruptions and gravitational flux variances in the forcefield’s structure. If there was a weakness, he would find it. But until then, Earth was beyond his reach. But not so on the other planets in the solar system, particularly on Mars.

Terraforming on Mars was an on-going project that had started over a hundred years earlier. That was soon abandoned when Kel and his black ships appeared in orbit and began bombarding the colony’s underground complexes. These were man’s first steps at building complex shelters on a planet, other than on Earth. They had grown to be huge underground structures that sheltered hundreds of thousands of people. Within a few days, they became tombs, containing only the remains of the deceased.

With all traces of human endeavour destroyed on Mars, all that remained was the jewel in the crown, Earth. And that was how Kel’s war had been reduced to a waiting game, a silent duel between the greatest minds of two civilisations. A test of patience, ingenuity, and resolve. In other words, a stalemate.

Gideon Prime

Gideon Prime awoke to bright lights and a low resonance hum. He looked to his left and smiled at the man watching him.

The man smiled back. “Hello. Do you know where you are?”

Gideon was on a gurney, none too stable under his weight and it shifted as he leveraged himself up on his elbows. “I have connected to the facilities main processor. Earth station three also known as the Horizon.”

“Correct,” the man said, a smile briefly lighting his face up.

I like this man’s smile and his kind face. Is that my first emotion? Was that my first thought?

The man could see a questioning look on Gideon’s face. “Are you feeling well? Do you know where you are on this facility?”

“I feel, well. Science lab 32?”

“Good and do you know who you are?”

“Yes, I am Species Human, variant twenty-seven.”

There’s that nice smile again.

“Do you know your name?”

“Gideon Prime.”

“Very good, Gideon,” the man said, turning aside. “We must make a note to check algorithms based on personal ident,” he said to a figure standing behind him.

Gideon could see this other man and recognized him. “Hello Doctor Mitzaki. How are you today?”

Doctor Mitzaki came more fully into Gideon’s view. “Hello, Gideon. More to the point, how are you?”

“I am well, Doctor.”

Gideon looked at the first man he saw, the smiling man, a question pursed on his lips.

“Do you recognize me?”

Gideon looked at him for a moment. “You look like me, but different, older. Are you, my father?”

“Good, Gideon, I suppose you could say I am, yes. My name is Maxwell Bahn. I am your creator. Can you tell me the date and time?”

“September 23rd, 2435, and the time is 10:23 Earth standard.”

Gideon Prime did look like Maxwell Bahn; he was after all modelled on Bahn’s dead son, Gideon.

“I think we should look at the data output before we go any further.” As Doctor Hansi Mitzaki was speaking, Gideon sat upright on the gurney and then swung his legs over the side and dropped to the floor.

“I would say Gideon is ahead of you there, Hansi.”

Hansi Mitzaki watched Gideon walk around the small lab, touching objects and smelling them.

“It’s interesting, this feeling I have,” Gideon said to no one in particular.

“What feeling is that Gideon?” Bahn asked as he looked at Mitzaki with a raised eyebrow.

“Being alive,” Gideon answered.

“Is that what you think you are, alive?”

“I feel it. What I think is that my few moments, so far, of being alive are about to end. I fear Dr. Mitzaki wants to shut me down and carry out tests. Am I correct, Doctor?”

“Yes, Gideon, you are correct.”

“I think it is logical to want to make sure your creation is not going into… shall we say, Frankenstein mode.”

Hansi Mitzaki laughed out loud.

Gideon laughed at the wonder on Mitzaki’s face and the look of surprise on Bahn’s face. “Did I make a joke?”

I think I must have cracked my first joke.

“Good first attempt, Gideon,” Bahn said, as though he had read Gideon’s mind. “Do you know what you are, compared to myself or Hansi here?”

“As I mentioned earlier, I am Species Human, variant twenty-seven. I haven’t changed in the last few minutes.”

“Yes, you are a variant on the human theme. But do you understand the difference?”

“Does there have to be a difference?” Gideon asked. “I can see from your faces that in your minds, there must be a difference. You are biological, whereas I am more bio-tech. There’s more nanotech to me than meets the casual observers eye.”

“Well put, Gideon. Tell me, though, do you know why we created you? What your purpose is?”

“The original specification called for an android adept at exploring deep space, but the incursion from the Pleiades Empire changed all that. The war with the Pleiades Empire is not going well. Your young men and women are dying every day in the outer systems. The death of your son, Gideon, instigated your desire to save further human bloodshed. I am your answer to the intrusions by the Empire, their intrusions into human space. I and more like me will be your soldiers in this war.”

“You are correct, Gideon,” Bahn said, both impressed and disturbed by Gideon’s knowledge. “How did you know about my son’s death?”

“I have connected to Earth’s central database. Information stored there is free for all to access. Your family details and the circumstances surrounding the death of your son are well documented.”

“Very well, Gideon,” Dr Mitzaki said, interrupting the discourse. “I think it’s time we did a few of those tests you mentioned. You seem to be learning at a faster rate than we first anticipated.”

“As you wish, Doctor. I will lie on the Gurney and shut myself down.”

“You know how to do that?” Bahn asked, somewhat taken aback.

“Of course, it’s all in your database. I have downloaded the schematics. My analysis has shown a few errors you have made, but essentially you have the mix correct.”

Bahn and Hansi Mitzaki swapped a brief look of concern as Gideon lay back on the gurney and closed his eyes.

The door to Bahn’s lab swished open.

Bahn looked up and smiled as a young EDF officer walked into the lab.

“Captain Jevere, how nice to see you on this fine morning,” Bahn said with a smile.

Hansi Mitzaki’s eyes rolled as he smiled at Bahn.

“Doctor,” the young woman said to Mitzaki, bowing slightly. To Bahn she strode over and gave him a hug. “I’m well,” she said, releasing Bahn from a substantial bear hug. “Although I cannot get used to this morning and night routine on a space station. Give me the clean air of New York any day.”

“What can we do for you, Captain.”

“Please, professor. Call me Carly when there are no other EDF personnel about.”

Gideon couldn’t see the young woman and was straining his head left and right to catch a glimpse of this new human interaction. All he had seen so far was a tallish woman in EDF uniform, with short blond hair peeking out from her EDF peaked cap.

“The admiral has sent me to ask how your work with our new toy is going.”

Gideon wondered what the new toy was.

“I’ve sent the Admiral daily reports. But as you can see, the new toy is alive and almost kicking,” Bahn said with a brief laugh.

Gideon looked around and stretched his neck further to see where the new toy was.

“I know, and he gets the reports, but I don’t think he quite understands them. And I must say, I find it hard to follow sometimes, despite being a science officer.”

“Carly,” Hansi Mitzaki said, “if I may call you that, we have made substantial progress so far. But as you can see. We are still downloading data. As soon as we’re ready for a demonstration, we will let the Admiral know.”

The young woman nodded and turned to leave. “Oh, by the way,” she said, turning back as the lab door swished open. “Did you give him a name yet?”

“Yes, we decided on Gideon,” Bahn said.

“Gideon! Good name. I do believe one of my ancestors was called Gideon. Well, bye for now gentlemen.”  The door swished closed.

“I have a question,” Gideon said, when he realised the officer had left and that she had been referring to him as the new toy.

“Yes, Gideon,” Maxwell Bahn said.

“Do humans consider me to be a play thing?”

“Play thing… ah, yes, I mean no. Of course not. Let’s say it’s a term of endearment.”

Gideon made a mental note that humans were, are, complicated.

“I have another question.”

“Ask away, Gideon.”

“Will I remember this, upon my awakening?”

Bahn smiled. “Your memories are unique in the way they are stored.”

Gideon nodded, let his head rest, and closed his eyes.

There was no sign that he was anything but asleep. He didn’t need to breathe nor did he need to eat or sleep. His atomic batteries would last for centuries and were easy to replace. Gideon was the prototype for the ultimate warrior, trained in the art of war. He knew how to use weapons from handguns to ocean and space faring battle cruisers. Gideon was the ultimate fighting entity and Bahn hoped Gideon and those like him would triumph over Vastos Kel.

Bahn's thoughts turned to Vastos Kel.

Where are you now and what are you plotting?

Bahn shook his head and the thoughts tumbled away. He moved to help Mitzaki connect Gideon to the analyser but caught a glimpse of the Earth through the lab window. Bahn left his friend to deal with Gideon and walked to the window. The Earth, in all its glory, hung in space and wheeled round in its everlasting grace.

Where would we be without you?

Bahn caught a reflection of himself in the lab’s window. Bahn saw his reflection and marvelled at the likeness between himself, Gideon. 

Gideon used his downtime to gather further information from the earth central library on the Earth/Pleiades conflict. There was something about the information he currently possessed, which by now was the entire sum of human history, human science and, well, human everything, that did not quite sit right with Gideon. The Pleiades conflict was not simply a war. To Gideon, there seemed to be something else involved. With a satisfied feeling, Gideon suddenly realized he had experienced a hunch and intuition was something he now understood. 

“Human intuition,” he found himself uttering, involuntarily. 

“You understand intuition, Gideon?”

Gideon opened his eyes with a start and found Maxwell Bahn stood over him, examining his face. 

“Yes, I do,” Gideon said. “I feel I know, instinctively, that the Earth/Pleiades conflict is more complicated than a simple war.” 

“War is never simple, Gideon.” 

“I understand that, may I call you, father?” 

Maxwell Bahn nodded, a broad smile wrinkling his cheeks. 

“I understand, father, that war is never simple. I have examined all the information and correlated the data for all human conflicts. War is dirty, disgusting and perverse, but at times, unavoidable. Some glory in it while others are so repulsed they refuse to take up arms.” 

Maxwell Bahn patted Gideon’s left hand as he moved away from the gurney. Gideon was in the same position he had been when he had shut down a few hours previously, his internal bio-sensors having detected the time change between then and now. 

Bahn walked to a console and tapped the display once. 

Gideon swiftly sat up and then swept his legs over the side of the gurney and dropped to the floor. 

“You seem sad, father. Have I caused this? Or is it that I am too close a facsimile to your dead son?” 

Bahn turned quickly and looked at Gideon. “How did you realise?” 

“The inflections in your voice, the slump of your shoulders, the sadness in your eyes and the fact I am physically modelled on your dead son.”

“You know about emotions, but I suspect you don’t understand them, yet.” 

“Yes,” Gideon said, “I would agree with that statement.” 

“It would seem you need experience of the wider world, to achieve that understanding son.” 

Gideon nodded. “Thank you, father, I will try to live up to your expectations.”

“Come, Gideon,” Bahn said, indicating the exit door to the lab. “Oh, but first, I want you to take this and wear it around your neck.” Bahn held out a platinum chain with a small pendant attached. The hologram on the pendant was of a young man, remarkably similar to Gideon.

“Your son?” Gideon asked, taking the piece and placing it round his neck.

Bahn nodded, solemnly. “It’s all I have left, that and of course you.” Bahn suddenly cleared his throat and patted Gideon on the shoulder. “Come, it’s about time you met the world.” 

“And the world met me,” Gideon said, following Bahn through the door.

The auditorium was almost full and the buzz of conversation could easily be heard by Gideon. He sat in a dressing room watching his father busy himself with a computer terminal. 

“This is simply a training exercise, Gideon. No more, no less, so don’t worry about it.” 

“I won’t.” 

Bahn turned; a quizzical eyebrow raised. He looked at Gideon. Gideon looked back, imitating his father’s raised eyebrow. 

“Did I say something odd, father?” 

“Not odd, but you used a contraction for the first time. It would appear you are not only learning but also performing speech assimilation at an exponential rate.”

“That is a good thing, isn’t it?” 

Bahn tuned back to the computer display. “I don’t see it as a bad thing, just unexpected.” 

“Am I keeping you on your toes, as it were?” 

Bahn smiled inwardly as he pressed the enter key. “I suppose you are.” 

Gideon stood. “Is it time for my grand entrance?” 

“I guess it is, son.”

Copyright © Tom Kane 2025

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