The biolab at Kyozist station was buzzing with activity. Their first fully cloned organic body finally completed…and it was Irken. Almost back from the dead, Calla's body was on life support within a liquid tube, hooked up to an oxygen mask, very much alive and awaiting the PAK with her consciousness to complete it. This was more than any cloned Irken, it was the return of a long departed member of the species back to the land of the living. No more confinement to a talking box.
Vult, in attendance with Corr and the medical personnel of the team, stood nearby in observation. Curiously, he watched the suspended, nude, feminine form of "Calla" within the incubation tube. Monitoring equipment showed a strong, steady pulse. A heartbeat, but no neural activity.
"Is this what she looked like before?" He earnestly queried Turb with a turn of his head towards the man in charge of the miracle.
"According to the genetic sample provided from the residue on that PAK, yes." The brilliant scientist answered, reviewing notes and readings passed to him by his team. "It was mostly intact, thankfully. Very little genetic manipulation on our end to fill in the gaps, if you will. The genome served its purpose in ensuring what missing elements were seamlessly spliced in."
Sula, mesmerized by such a feat, peered through the transparent casing of the tube through the illuminated, aerated liquid surrounding the Irken's body.
"Incredible…absolutely incredible…" She muttered. "A reverse-engineering of our genome…and growth of an unaltered adult in a matter of months."
"Adult body," Turb clarified with a gesture of a stylus towards the Medical Officer. "As she, well, the "body" currently is, it's effectively braindead. Involuntary bodily functions autonomously performing as scripted by genetics, but no cognitive ability. A blank slate."
"...that was…intentional?"
"Yes. This may be cloned flesh and blood but it still posses the ability to seen, interact, and learn. Develop its own personality, thoughts, and feelings. Imagine attempting to turn control over to the PAK while already occupying that space."
"Sounds like a recipe for a complete and utter mental breakdown." Vult commented, looking to Corr, likely as excited as Calla clutched within his palms was. "Don't think she'd be much for a fight for control in her own body."
"Precisely…but that still may be a possibility despite our efforts. We have traveled well into uncharted territory in genetics with this project. There is no guarantee for success with experimental research and theories."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning many things can go awry. The mental episode. Mental disorder. Physical rejection…the list goes on. No different than being selective with organ transplants and ensuring the host is compatible."
"Quite a heavy risk…but I'm absolutely dumbfounded." Zutel stood by in amazement herself. The Vortians did in months what even they weren't capable of doing. Sure, they cloned smeets and slapped a PAK on them; but it's different cloning children and cloning an adult. Once again, they prove themselves masterful at science, even in something the Irken held supreme mastery over.
"Calla…it does sound like a major risk." Corr took a breath, "But we're so close…so close to you being here…"
"My options are to remain as I am now until the end of time or this battery dies…" The PAK's vox-emitter began hesitantly. "...or to take the risk and hope for the best. Either it will be successful and I can finally be free of this nightmare…or I will be granted the peace I've been denied for so long."
"Sounds like her mind's already made up to me," Vult acknowledged, watching as his three medical personnel fawned over the floating form with excited chittering amongst them. "I know you have ample help at your disposal, but I have three experts on our physiology here as well. Whatever they can do to increase the odds of success, you have them at your disposal."
"You heard him, Corr…this may not work…and I may not be here anymore."
"...Whatever happens…even if this is the first time I've gotten to lay eyes on how you look…I do love you."
"You loved me before that." She wistfully commented, sighing. "...I can't wait to physically feel the emotions I'm trying to express right now."
"Not to be morbid, but if you have anything you wish to say now, make it known. It could be your last despite our best efforts." Turb gently reminded as his team began make preparations for the installment of the PAK and "activation" for lack of a better term.
"Right…well…Corr? I still think you a bit touched in the head to fall antenna-over-ankles for me…but maybe I'm just as crazy never seeing you and feeling all the same. The past few months have been a cherished highlight of my un-life. You and your friends have made this almost bearable…almost being the keyword. Thank you, truly."
"You made the downtime much more enjoyable and helped me relax…pulled the pole out of my c'hurta as it was." The Captain shifted his grasp on her PAK, reaching up to wipe a welling tear from one of his eyes. "I'm glad we met…even though I'm still holding out hope this succeeds."
"You and me both…alright…I'm ready. Let's do this before I get cold-...well, I was going to say feet. Plug me in."
As the two spoke to each other, Turb and his team set about draining the tank and removing Calla. Bringing the Irken body to a nearby medical table and laying her on it after drying her off. Zutel took a breath as she looked at Corr.
"Moment of truth." She held out her hands, Corr handing her the ancient PAK. She, along with Sula, walked over and checked that the alignment was just right before placing the device down on the body. The sound of the spikes interfacing with her body filled the room briefly as the two medics stepped back.
It was just a matter of waiting and seeing now…
The angular PAK, now squarely centered and secured to the back of the blank body, remained silent as it did motionless. Calla's voice wasn't heard, nor were there physical reactions from the flesh and blood she now interfaced with. Several agonizingly long seconds of silence save for the heart monitor's rhythmic beeping and actuation of breathing apparatus filled the lab. Had Turb's grim warning been made manifest? Was she no more?
"Hold her down, damn you!" General Krad ordered the civilian medics to do their jobs, struggling to restrain the woman. Ever the fighter, even when found out. "I swear by Kherkes, if you fail to hold her down I'll have you lot sent to the chambers upstairs before the day is out!"
"Sir, we're trying!" One of them eeked out against their unruly patient's unwillingness to submit.
"Try harder!"
A lost hold on the woman's wrist immediately earned him a solid fist to the side of the jaw, sending him staggering back with a snarl of fury. She would not go quietly. Do or die.
"For crying out loud…" His partner grumbled, throwing himself across the woman to pin her down to the table before she managed to get loose.
"I'LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU! YOU HEAR ME?! ALL OF YO-"
A heavy right hand smashed into the patient's face, dazing her long enough to secure the litgatures about her wrists finally. The taste of blood in her mouth from the blow brought her back into clarity, trembling with futile effort against her restraints. Even secured, the staff was hesitant to approach her.
Krad shook his fist as he wiped his lips, noticing a bit of blood on the back of his hand from her blow. The sound of tearing fabric as they ripped her shirt open. She was entirely at Krad's mercy. The man came around, clad in a woodland camouflage uniform fit for Devos. Black combat boots polished to a mirror shine, the bright rank of a General on the collar of his uniform alongside the insignia of the Irken Republic. He knelt down in front of Calla, a smug grin on his face.
"So much for the terror of Devos. Prepare the unit." He ordered one of the uniformed soldiers nearby before turning his attention back to Calla, "I've known all along. I've known for months who you were. I've wanted to see just how far your network went. Oh the lengths you were willing to go to…and I played you like a harp every step of the way."
Krad's cocksure commentary earned him a gathered mouthful of spittle and blood blown defiantly from Calla's mouth directly into his face. Unto the bitter end.
"THERE ISN'T A BLACK HOLE BIG ENOUGH FOR YOU TO PERISH IN!" She bellowed at him.
The General stood, withdrawing a handkerchief to wipe his face. "That will be your last crime…court martial convened by me has found you guilty of treason against the Republic. However, I'm not going to give you the honor of death. No, your husband and your kids deserved their death on the field of honor. You, you filth that lingers in the shadows…you deserve something far worse than death."
"The only traitor here is YOU! Betrayed your people! For what? A promotion? Prominence? A black mark in history? Selfish, short-sighted, and STUPID is what you are!" Calla screamed at him, fury boiling over still despite the ice-cold, sterile air against her clammy skin. "You will BURN for what you've done to the Irken race!"
"You will wish for death. You will wish I had placed the coins upon your eyes as payment for the ferry to take you across the river into the afterlife. No…you will not rejoin your honorable family members." With that, Krad signaled for the placement of the PAK on her back.
Her darting eyes focused on the pair of technicians coming forth with some manner of device about the size of a backpack. One without straps or any visible signs of storage or entry. An angular shell of metallic plating.
"W-what is that?"
They pair of personnel turned the device over, revealing two evenly-spaced holes at its center. A wave of a hand near them saw two jagged spikes jut out.
"What is that?!"
Her demands went unanswered by the pair as they stood by. Struggling against her restraints until they cut into her flesh, her head snapped back to Krad.
"A prison of eternal separation from your family." The General's face held a sinister grin. "I told you that you would wish for death."
The color drained from her face. The rumors, the top-secret projects, the documents…they were true. She knew what it was and didn't want to believe it to be true. Her defiance doused by ice-cold futility and the grim realization she was at their mercy and what fate was in store for her.
"N-no…no…kill me. KILL ME!" She exclaimed hoarsely, grinding her teeth in exertion at her taunt restraints.
"The punishment fits, then."
"You've already won! Give me peace!"
"You thought you could kill me. You thought you could kick the Republic off of Devos. You had the gall to make an attempt against your betters. My victory will be eternal. I will laugh at your eternal torment in the afterlife. I will revel in the misery of your husband and offspring that will not have their mother with them. I will win, I will always win."
Despite Krad's assurance in absolute victory and Calla's merciful pleas for a fitting end, the attending staff were not eager to proceed. Prior experimentation had been less than successful…and was this really the future? The next step in evolution of the Irken race? To play creator themselves?
"Activate the device." Krad ordered one of the doctors.
Calla turned her head to the very same medical staff, terror in her orange eyes.
"Please…do not do this. Kill me. Lethal injection, shoot me, anything! This isn't right and you know it!"
"General, we shou-" one of the doctors started before being interrupted.
"I said activate the device."
"General, the last experiments were unsuccessful on the other prisoners. We ca-"
Krad's sidearm left its holster and leveled right at the doctor's head. "I gave you an order. This is martial law, you will obey it or I'll see you dead. Either here or in the gas chamber."
Staring down the barrel of the General's weapon gave him pause. His eyes glanced to Calla's pleading silence, swallowing with a soured grimace. Even if he refused and was shot on the spot, someone else would gladly fulfill Krad's Grand Design. This wasn't the honor he had hoped it to be.
"...Y-yes, Sir.'
"No, no, no, no…" Calla shook her head as she was pinned by her shoulders, face pressed into the examination table steel beneath her. "Don't! Please!"
Before another bout of hesitation and second-guessing delayed them further, the device was placed squarely across Calla's exposed back. No sooner than the kiss of ice-cold metal met her flesh, the pair of jagged metal spikes rapidly pierced flesh with a sickening squelch of tissue torn and vertebrae cracking. Calla's scream of absolute agony from the unwanted intrusion nearly deafened those in the room.
A matter of seconds passed as she threatened to tear her spooch from the cry of pain alone…then it petered out, her body convulsing and twitching involuntarily. Spittle, blood, and foam ran down her chin, eyes rolling back in her head. Symptoms normally associated with a seizure…this was the result of her consciousness being torn asunder from its mortal coil and converted into data against her will.
A few more seconds passed, her body went limp. Unresponsive. Effectively braindead as its former inhabitant now resided within the artificial construct embedded into her spinal column.
"...it's done." One of the staff commented, thoroughly disgusted but masking it well. "Transferrence complete."
"What do we do with the body, sir?" One of the soldiers asked, the voices fading.
"Put a pair in her head and take her to the crematorium. This world will be…"
The blank's visage twitched, tightening in discomfort. Her chest rapidly rose and fell, breathing shallow and heart rate skyrocketing. Orange eyes snapped open, sitting up in a startled panic as an uncoordinated hand ripped the strangling mask from her face away. Bright, blinding lights. Sterile smells. The drone of medical equipment. She was right back where it all began. Sula and Zutel barely held her fast by the arms.
"Hey, hey, hey, easy. Relax. Listen to my voice." Sula attempted, trying to remain gentle despite her frightened resistance. "Captain, little help?!"
"Calla!" Corr made his way over, taking one of the hands of the startled woman. "Calla, look at me. It's me, it's Corr."
That voice…a familiar voice. She knew this one well. Hearing it unabated with her own antenna slowed her hyperventilating, firmly squeezing the source of familiarity in her own trembling hand as her eyes darted, seeking a point of focus. The source…the face of a man. A name to the face. A name she knew.
"C-...C-Corr?" Her thin voice struggled, speech proving challenging having been without vocal cords to call her own for so long.
The man nodded, tears welling up in his eyes at the prospect of finally having her back in the realm of the living. "Yes, Calla, it's me. Your eyes are far more alluring than you described them. But words alone could hardly have done them justice."
Confirmation. Affirmation. A tsunami of emotions flooded her all at once. Elation. Jubilation. Relief. Dread. Fear. Paranoia. Terror. Sadness. Never before could she recall such overwhelming intensity from all directions at once. A trembling, weepy smile choked back a strangled sob as she extradited her limbs from Sula and Zutel and promptly threw them around the Captain with all her coordinated might she could offer. She trembled with effort, refusing to let go. Not now, not ever.
Corr returned it in kind, wrapping his arms around Calla. He couldn't contain it as tears of joy streamed down his face. She was here. She was with him. He wasn't going to let her go, and she wasn't prepared to let him go either. An obvious meeting of two lovers separated by circumstance but separate no longer.
"I love you, Calla."
She said nothing. Not out of unwillingness, but a million different thoughts all rushed to the forefront of her mind. Her actual mind! Her body! All of this feeling, emotion, and stimulation. She could only cling to the man who comforted her in her darkest hours and kep ther company, cries muffled into his shoulder and neck. Zutel and Sula, assured she wasn't going to lash out at anyone now, stepped away and gave her and the Captain their space.
Even Turb wiped away a tear from one of his own eyes. "This is quite the romantic meeting…I wasn't expecting this."
The unfamiliar voice greeting her antenna reminded her of her surroundings and state of affairs. Medical. Nude…likely those responsible for making her born again in the symbolic sense. Doing her best to wipe away lingering, well-earned tears to compose herself, she turned with the intent to graciously thank them for the miracle they had performed.
That thought quickly found itself stamped out the moment she laid eyes on the elder Vortian man. That wasn't an Irken. He wasn't Irken. More of them. Her elation gave way to equal measures confusion and concern.
"Wh-...who-..." She stammered, trying to formulate a cognitive sentence.
"Doctor Turb'Zharic, at your service. I…was present at your initial reactivation and helped bring you back.."
"He is being humble," Vult interjected, stepping into her view beside the good doctor. "He helped make all of this possible from the beginning."
"...al-...aliens…aliens?" Calla struggled, remembering her prior discussions with Corr regarding them. Seeing them first hand, in-person, was a whole other surreal experience.
"Yes, aliens. They're friends."
"They're the Vortians, the horned ones we told you about." Corr added.
"Let's…try not to overwhelm her." Sula interjected, stepping into the conversation with a pursed expression. "One thing at a time."
Vult nodded, looking to Corr and Calla.
"Why don't you take her somewhere quiet? We can worry about tests and check-ups later…and find her some clothes while you're at it."
Hesa had been standing outside wearing an overcoat, watching from an observation room, feeling somewhat cold inside the station. When nobody had any clothes around she made her appearance, setting down her mug and removing her coat to place it over the woman. It wasn't much but it was some level of modesty to start.
"Sula, she looks like she's about your size. Got a spare pair of boots on the ship I can grab for her? I can loan her some of my clothes." Hesa looked to the medic, wanting to be helpful than a silent observer in another room.
"I say stop waiting and go get them." Corr motioned to the door with his head and watched Hesa run off. His head turned back to Calla. "She's to the Commander what you are to me." He smiled, hoping to soothe her anxiety further with a brief kiss to her lips. He's been waiting to do that for some time.
Once Calla was clothed it was right to the mess hall on the Ghost of Irk where there was some hot food and drinks. Vortian food, sure, but still food and drink all the same. Something she had gone without for ages. Help her nerves and get her away from the overload of aliens.
The recently-revived woman, wearing a myriad of articles from the female members of the team, quietly sat wide-eyed across from Corr. Her gaze fixated, distant, while idly munching on a snack. Food! Drink! Taste! Smell! All of it so wonderful…
"I remember going through training and the first thing I wanted to get was some greasy diner food." Corr smiled, holding his own mug of Vortian bean water. "After being trapped in a box for centuries, I can imagine anything would be a massive improvement." He took a sip, smiling at her. "I'm just so glad to have you here at last."
"Huh?" Her attention snapped to Corr, shaking her head gently. "Sorry…I'm spacing out. Being stuck like that for so long…non-stop sensory overload right now. I'm not ignoring you."
"I can't even begin to imagine but…I'm just happy you're here." He suddenly thought of something that was missing from the table. "It's been forever since you had alcohol too. What did you like? Wine? Beer?"
Her hand rose, shaking back and forth at the offer.
"No alcohol, not right now…maybe later…and this freeze-dried junk is making me want fresh jazza fruit. Does the Empire even know how to get that or where it comes from or did they just assume this is what it tastes like and made an artificial flavor?"
"What's a jazza fruit?" Corr asked, never having heard the name before.
She pointed to the opened fruit bar in her hands.
"Whatever this is trying to be. You couldn't walk outside of the settlements on Devos without tripping over an orchard of the trees. A bright purple, citrusy fruit with blue pulp. Juiced, sliced, eaten right off the trees…there probably aren't any trees left anymore, is there?"
Corr shook his head. "Whatever beauty you told me of the world when you lived on it the Empire long since tore it apart and industrialized it to full capacity. It's a planet of war now. Clones, training soldiers, you name it. Didn't even leave so much as a park with some of the native foliage."
"So you've said…" She sighed, picking at the snack thoughtfully before speaking again. "...not trying to make things awkward, well, more awkward than they are…I haven't even scratched the surface on…everything and only know what you all have told me beforehand. This is…a living nightmare compared to the life I once lived…and I don't know how to cope with this."
"Well…you have me." He tried to be reassuring despite the situation. "...and ever since being unhooked I've had my own things to contend with. I had you to talk to…and that helped immensely."
A thin smile graced her lips as she looked up to him from across the table.
"This is true…we have each other. One of the most difficult hurdles in any relationship is communication. Helps to develop that when it's all you can do, isn't it?"
"And we've had much of that to do over the past many months. Fell in love before we even laid eyes on each other and now here we are. Am I as handsome as you imagined while you were without sight?"
"I pictured you being a little taller with a more square jaw," She teasingly spoke. "I don't even need to ask you. Barely able to figure out what is going on or where I am in the universe and you're already professing your adoration."
"Can you blame me?" He smiled before taking a sip from his mug. "I've had you so close all this time yet without a body you were still so far away. Now I actually have you here and this changes everything. I can finally cook you a nice meal myself like I said I would. I might just do that tonight once you're more…accustomed to being back in the land of the living."
"Careful now, you might spoil me and I expect to be waited on hand-and-foot like the queen of the universe you profess me to be." Calla snickered at his expenses, sighing contently. "...hopefully once I'm adjusted to all of this again I can return the favor. One thing I am eagerly looking forward to doing again is cooking. You and your friends can find me all the exotic ingredients I need since the Empire did their best to scrub anything useful out of your heads."
"We actually have a fully stocked spice cabinet of Vortian herbs. Skrem absolutely insisted on it. Word going around is that he has a thing for Rem and he wanted his meal to be perfect and not ruined…but hopefully they'll deliver some flavor that you're familiar with from Devos."
"Only one way to find out, I suppose…" She answered, pausing for a moment's thought before returning her attention squarely to Corr. "So now what? Elated as I am to be among the living again and meet all who made it possible, I haven't forgotten what's been discussed and what is in the works. Where do I fall into all of this?"
Corr sighed. "I won't ask you to fight in the field if you don't want to. You've done plenty before trying to stop the Empire before it rose but…you have knowledge, you've been here before, you've done this. You'd be astounding in an advisory capacity and knowledge of things of the past. Like…this cryptic message I remember from where we found you. Krad said their services might be needed again. But why? Wouldn't he have succeeded by then?"
"After everything you and the rest of them have done for me, not helping would be criminal of me. You just wait, Mister Black Ops Man…I'm far more dangerous than I look. Soon as I'm…familiarzed again, probably show the lot of you a thing or two."
A pause in contemplation at his other query, recollecting.
"Being heavily embroiled in active insurgency at the time, I only managed to hear bits and pieces of news outside of Devos in passing. From my understanding, Krad and the Empire at-large sent out a missive through all channels to recall any Republic starships from their ongoing assignments. That applied to both the Armada and civilian sector. Krad and the Empire military mandated the Grand Design to all civilians and soldiers alike. That meant a visit to Devos through one of the processing centers. There were rumors abound of several crews of various ships refusing the recall. I don't know how accurate or true they were but there is one peculiar vessel of note among them that was away from Devos at the time and there was no log of it returning to port. The expeditionary vessel RCS Ambitious."
"Why peculiar?"
"The RCS Ambitious was a unique scientific expedition vessel - a colonial ship. Absolutely massive with thousands of crew. Ambitious made the trip from Irk to Devos and started the colony. Always a big deal on Devos when it was in port. Major economic boom for several weeks from its presence. Reason why that stuck out is it is the only vessel listed as MIA rather than outright destroyed or lost after not returning to port. Now…take what I'm about to say with a mountain of salt…but the running theory up until the end was it defied the Grand Design order and…disappeared. Intentionally made itself untraceable through space. A large enough population with self-sustaining resources and technology…assuming they were able to find a suitable world to colonize…there is a very real possibility there are un-PAKed Irken alive and well in the universe."
"That's…certainly a theory. But we haven't heard or seen anything like that. If they survived, I'd be pleasantly surprised…but they don't need to be dragged into this. They lived this long without the Empire, by all rights they deserve to continue living in peace." He paused to take a sip. "Why didn't you bring this up before?"
"Peace is an illusion." Calla grimly commented. "Generations later or not, assuming they didn't perish, they would want to make things right….and as for why I never spoke of it before? You didn't ask. I didn't know it would be relevant to anything in the current until just now. It's all speculation and rumor anyway. An urban legend."
"And the entire Empire is Krad's legacy built on bones and an intricate web of lies. I'm not counting anything out anymore. Not after what I've seen and heard." Corr sighed, "If they are out there and we do find them, do you really think they'd be eager to help bring down the Empire?"
"I don't think they have much of a choice. Either they get to choose to help us make things right or they get dragged into it unwillingly after the Empire finds out where they are and either subjugates them or outright destroys them."
"Even if it hasn't been used in ages, that facility is still there…there was the closet full of PAKs with you in it, there's bound to be others…by Irk this needs to end, all of it." He stopped once more, taking a larger swig of the hot bean water, pausing with an exhale. "However you want to help us, we'd greatly appreciate it."
Calla nodded with affirmation to Corr's words of encouragement.
"I've been given the greatest gift of them all…a second chance and a new lease on life. Knowing my mistakes and failures of the past, I will not make them again. I will see this through or die trying."
She gestured with her half-eaten snack and a smirk.
"...on a full spooch first, of course."
"The old adage remains true, an army marches on its spooch." Corr chuckled. "I'll be there with you every step of the way, hopefully."