Bonded

Bonded

By Andre Ricardo

5th of Certh, 19:92

Evening was approaching in Cel-Mot-Feron. Gare-Sef looked out of the kitchen window at the shiny metal towers of her city. Deep, orange rays of sunlight beamed across each sleek, silver and copper toned building. The city was humming with activity as humans, like herself, as well as a few other sapients, walked along the streets. Vehicles cruised across busy intersections, and starliners made their final descent after their journeys from other worlds. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Gare-Sef welcomed her husband, Solu-Fal, back from his work at Pon-Quan, one of the mid-sized quantum communications companies whose coverage spanned across the Veltsirian United Colonies, their home nation. The first thing Solu-Fal did after embracing his wife and putting away his work things was shut off the news, which Gare-Sef had turned on as idle noise. The newscaster’s unsettlingly calm voice which had been droning on about how the Archons of the Bond of the Perfect Machine had recently issued a condemnation towards the Veltsirians’ reprehensible behavior was cut short.

“What’s that for?” said Gare-Sef.

“I don’t want to hear about any of that right now,” Solu-Fal replied.

These were frightening times. Gare-Sef knew perfectly well that life was likely going to change in a huge, horrible way, but she still preferred to know about what was happening than to not. Solu-Fal seemed to operate under the principle that ignorance was bliss. Gare-Sef could never understand that about her husband. It was as if Solu-Fal thought that if he didn’t know what was going on, it couldn’t affect him.

“It’s the news,” Gare-Sef said with a hint of irritation in her usually soft voice.

“It’s blather,” Solu-Fal waved his hand dismissively.

If it made him feel better to be uninformed, Gare-Sef didn’t care. She could read about the Archons’ whining later. It was undoubtedly something about the Veltsirians’ lack of guidance or our unscientific clinging to our “repugnant biomass.” In all fairness, the Bond was right that the Veltsirian United Colonies’ government was particularly ineffective at present. The Bond’s government, which itself was a sort of strange religion, was one of the most efficient in the galaxy. Their massive industrial base combined with their unified population allowed them to churn out an imposing army and fleet, all by decree of their Archons. By contrast, the Premier of the VUC had failed to unify the Colonial Congress soon enough, and the stubborn Pacifists made the expansion of the defense budget a major headache. Frustratingly, no one seemed to take the threat of the Bond seriously until they already began their belligerent warpath.

“Gare-Sef!” Solu-Fal’s voice broke through the clouds of Gare-Sef’s thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what was it?” Gare-Sef recollected herself and turned to face her husband.

“My brother is coming over to stay with us for a few days,” Solu-Fal said. “He got some free time and figured visiting us beat just sitting around. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gare-Sef never really liked having company over for too long, but given the circumstances she still couldn’t be bothered to argue. Solu-Dev, her brother in law, never bothered her much anyways since he had always been the helpful type. “You’re fixing the guest room up. The sheets need to be changed.”

“Of course, of course, I was going to anyways,” Solu-Fal walked off.

Gare-Sef made the final preparations for their evening meal, and briefly thanked the Light for growing their food and nurturing her home world of Contlier. Their conversation was sparse. An uneasy feeling hung in all the households of Contlier. The world was on the edge of VUC borders. If war with the Bond was coming, it would erupt here.

 

11th of Certh, 8:23

It was late afternoon when the alarms sounded across the whole city of Cel-Mot-Feron. The pleasant, cloudless sky was lit up with ship-to-ship combat. Gare-Sef watched in horror as Contlier’s meager defense fleet was shattered by the Bond’s superior numbers and technological advantage. Bright, fiery debris was cast in all directions as hundreds of Veltsirian lives were taken in the course of an hour. A message was projected down to Contlier as their communications were hacked and jammed by the warfleet.

“Contlierans! Cast away your vices! Your unscientific practices shall come to a swift termination! Come and bond with us! Let this battle be heralded as the final chapter in your insolence as you join with us in utter harmony!”

Gare-Sef sprinted back to her building while dodging other frantic city goers as she went. She burst through the door of her home to see her frantic husband and his brother packing their belongings.

“Did you see that?” Gare-Sef’s empty lungs struggled to produce her words.

“Yes! Thank the Light you’re safe!” Solu-Fal clutched his wife to his chest.

Gare-Sef wriggled out of his grasp and said “Not yet I’m not! None of us are! What are you doing?”

“LEAVING!” Solu-Dev shouted at both of them. The urgency in his voice told them to get back on task quicker than him actually speaking could.

Gare-Sef rushed around the apartment collecting anything she thought was important until a thought arose. She hadn’t the slightest clue what they were going to do after packing. Leaving definitely was part of it, but where would they go? Anarchy was erupting as everyone else also had the same idea of leaving. Staying here was a bad idea too since the Bond was undoubtedly going to blast Cel-Mot-Feron into the upper atmosphere. A single Jerusak name entered her mind.

“Wait!” Gare-Sef interrupted the mens’ fervor. “We should call Safrif!”

“Are you insane? What’s she going to do?” Solu-Fal’s voice was thin and strained over each word.

“Who even is Safrif?” Solu-Dev’s retort followed immediately after his brothers.

“She’s a freak about all that survival stuff, remember? She bought all those crazy instruments and compact food reserves and what-have-you like the world was going to cave in any minute? She literally never shuts up about it!” Gare-Sef’s speech was rapid and pleading. “Well, the world is caving in now!”

It was only around a second of silence, but it felt like an entire day. Solu-Fal considered his wife’s pleas while his younger brother stood motionless in confusion and fear.

“Sure, but there’s no way we’re finding her in this cacophony,” Solu-Fal stuck his head in the sand once again.

“The private receivers she gave us on Lightingday!” Gare-Sef said.

“That-” Solu-Fal cut his sentence short. He stared at Gare-Sef for an agonizingly long three seconds. “That could work.”

“You need to explain what you two are on about right now,” Solu-Dev turned toward his brother angrily.

 

12th of Certh, 6:74

The trio were eager to get moving. They had to endure a day of tense waiting according to Safrif’s orders. Solu-Dev could not believe that the best the Jerusak could come up with was to shelter in place in the middle of a war, but Gare-Sef and Solu-Fal trusted the eccentric saurian’s judgment.

“It does seem like waiting paid off. It was a stampede yesterday,” Solu-Fal said.

“That Jerusak is borderline strange sometimes but she does seem to know what she’s talking about,” Gare-Sef admitted. “Most of the time at least.”

“What’s with her?” Solu-Dev still did not seem convinced of Safrif’s benevolence. “I mean, what’s with her obsession over survival stuff?”

“I’m not sure when it started with her. She’s always been afraid of war, or some kind of natural disaster or anything catastrophic like that,” Solu-Fal explained. “We always used to poke a little fun at her for it. Never really thought any of her crazy theories would come true. You know, she’s been saying that the Bond was going to invade us for the last year now!”

“When she gave us these receivers during the Lightingday gift giving ceremony a few months back we kind of pretended to like them. I think it was her way of feeling like she was one of us and that she belonged,” Gare-Sef began to reminisce on Lightingdays from the past. Glittering edifices and shrines dedicated to the Light from her childhood came into her focus. Everything used to be so simple. “Keep all that between us of course. We’re in her hands now.”

“Or are they claws? Talons maybe?” Solu-Fal said.

When the trio finally made it to Lightingday Park they spied their feathered friend, and also another human and an Iden, a great, bearlike mammalian. Safrif wore a translator receptor apparatus around her arms, mouth and ears, allowing her to speak to Veltsirians. The projector hung from her neck on a lanyard.

“Hello, friends. These are mine.” Safrif’s projector emitted the Veltsirian language.

“I am Konduir. May your Light shine upon you. I hail from Mondiv,” said the sharply dressed man.

“I’m Betvin,” the Iden’s projector struggled over his deep, growling voice.

After introductions were made, the group began moving towards a warehouse which Betvin worked in prior to the invasion. Escaping into the wilderness would be too difficult, since, according to Safrif’s advanced maps, the Bond’s army was blocking every exit from the city. For now, they would need to hide within Cel-Mot-Feron.

“This is it.” Betvin gestured towards an industrial looking structure.

“Are you sure this isn’t too close to the industrial district? Aren’t they going to bomb the entire city?” Solu-Dev said.

“It’s fine. Far enough away that the Bond wouldn’t waste the hydrogen.” Betvin said.

“So what’s the plan then? Do we just sit here until their armies leave? What if they don’t?”

“They will move. They are assault armies. They will not be there for more than three days. This is likely. I studied the Bond’s wars. This is what they do. After the army leaves. They leave and go to more planets. It will be the work for Bringers next.” Safrif’s projector sounded off with stilted speech. The Jerusak language was spoken using a combination of hisses, squacks and ruffles of the feathers on their arms. Because of its considerable separation from the Veltsirian tongue, it was difficult to translate all its intricacies in real time.

“What should we do, Safrif?” Gare-Sef said.

Safrif swung open her survival kit, which was a myriad of supplies she had crammed into a suitcase. She drew a holstered plasma pistol, which she affixed to her waist. Next, she pulled out a box containing a densely packed film.

“Hang this. Use the magnet. There are a few not one. Hang this on the walls. All of them. Do not miss space or they could see us. They will see our warmth with their new eyes.” Safrif commanded the group.

 

14th of Certh, 11:80

Gare-Sef chewed on one of Safrif’s compact food bars while she stared down her husband. It was his move in Dafe-Dafe-Hup, and things were looking like a close game. This had been a pastime for the couple since they had met. Gare-Sef had just beaten Solu-Dev with ease just before this, as she did with all of her friends. Solu-Fal had taught her this game, and they had become equal in skill over the course of their marriage. Solu-Fal had always been a more defensive player, looking to protect as much of his part of the board as possible, while Gare-Sef was more in the middle, not scared to engage, while also ensuring their pieces were balanced.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Gare-Sef teased her husband.

“What thing?” Solu-Fal looked up from the game to meet her gaze.

“You’ve got your thumb in your mouth,” Gare-Sef gestured towards his thumb, which had found a comfortable place between Solu-Fal’s teeth. His right thumb nail was slightly scratched in the middle from his habit of rubbing his bottom canine against it whenever he was deep in thought.

“Ah, I didn’t even realize. You got me again,” Solu-Fal leaned back onto his elbows from his cross-legged position. “Your move.”

The game was once again in nobody’s favor, as Solu-Fal had reinforced one of his towns a third time. It wouldn’t matter, since Gare-Sef’s next move would likely push him into an even worse corner. Just as she was about to make her move, a noise like a hundred thunderbolts coursed through the warehouse.

Against Safrif’s judement, Gare-Sef pulled the film back away from a window to see what had produced the noise. One of the towers of Cel-Mot-Feron had just been hit by a ship-mounted plasma cannon. Five more bolts crashed down into other buildings. The Commerce Cooperative Tower, Solu-Fal’s place of work and one of the most distinguished buildings in the Cel-Mot-Feron skyline was blasted completely into the air. Twisted, red-hot metal was sent at least a mile to the East. One particularly large piece was descending directly on top of the warehouse the survivors were hiding in.

“MOVE!” Gare-Sef only had time to scream a single word before she began running towards the other end of the warehouse. The chunk of the Commerce Cooperative Tower smashed through the roof, spraying dust in all directions. Luckily, nobody was hurt, but unluckily, there was now a massive hole in the roof. The group huddled underneath the rubble and tried their hardest not to think of the carnage just outside. A flying military transport of the Bond played a repeating message over a loudspeaker.

“Your Righteous Recomposition is at hand! Bond with us and live with reason! Your Righteous Recomposition is at hand! Bond with us and live with reason!”

 

29th of Certh, 4:14

The survivors rested underneath a hunk of twisted metal while the cool night air gently breezed through the holes in their makeshift shelter. Sleep was an impossibility. A single moment of carelessness could mean the Bringers would find them. Even just sitting there was a risk, as the Bond’s agents might be able to see them through the breaches in the film with their heat seekers. The group tried their best to salvage what film was left after the warehouse collapsed. Gare-Sef was especially restless. The memory of Cel-Mot-Feron crashing to the ground could not escape her.

Gare-Sef’s unquenchable desire to be in the know had led her to exposing herself to the state media of the Bond, which had replaced all other forms of broadcasting on Contlier. She figured that an ounce of truth had to be present within all the religious lingo. She had to find something to do these last two weeks, and reading the Bond’s propaganda was better than reading nothing at all.

“I am proud to announce that our estimates place 45% of Contlierans as having reached Transcendence!” The former planetary governor’s overly cheerful voice oozed through Gare-Sef’s earphones. “Fellow Contlierans, this is a joyous occasion! Make contact with a nearby Bringer of Transcendence today! The Bond of the Perfect Machine offers you this generous gift!”

The camera panned away from the governor’s face and focused on his entire body, in all its cybernetic splendor. His arms had been cut off at the shoulders with metal sockets reaching up to his collarbones. He had no feet, instead having replaced them with thin, springy strips of metal. He bounced up and down on his new legs and swung his arms around in the air like a child at recess. A bright smile was plastered across his weathered face. His eyes were also missing. Dark cameras had instead been fitted into his eye sockets that looked like two pools of water in a moonless night.

“Isn’t this just perfect? To bond with the Perfect Machine? I feel such clarity! May I remind you, every Transcended is an esteemed citizen of the Bond! Refusing this momentous transformation and shedding of your biological vices is an insult we cannot tolerate,” the governor’s face twisted in an inordinate amount of disgust on the word “biological.” “Any of you who are unable to make the right choice will be the fuel for this brave new Contlier! Your premature processing will ensure a nourished Contlier in the form of nourishment cubes! These cubes contain all the nutr-”

Gare-Sef shut her device off as reality began to reveal itself through the governor’s minced words. Gare-Sef had been born on Contlier. This was her home and she hated having to abandon it. Most of all, she hated having to flee at all and being powerless to fend off the invaders.

“We should leave this place. Idleness shall only serve the Bond.” Konduir said.

His voice was smooth, in typical Mondivian fashion, but it wavered across a few syllables.

“That would be best,” Gare-Sef said. “Is your map working again, Safrif?”

“No. I should have purchased the more expensive model.” The feathery reptile replied.

“As if you didn’t spend enough on ‘survival necessities,’” Betvin said.

The Iden’s furry, bearlike frame filled much of the space they were hiding in. His great strength pushed the piece of metal debris from the mouth of their hiding spot, exposing the group to the outside air of Contlier again. By now, Gare-Sef had become completely accustomed to the smell of smoke. Morning was beginning to show itself to the wayward world.

“That doesn’t matter right now, Betvin. If Safrif doesn’t have a map we don’t know where we’re going,” Gare-Sef said.

“No, I have the map. The map does not work. It does not show where we are. It still works otherwise. I shall estimate.” said Safrif.

“Estimate?” Solu-Dev asked. “How is an estimate going to help us reach precise coordinates?”

“It will, you trust me. I know what I am doing. I spent much time learning. I learned about surviving. This invasion is something we must survive.” Safrif said.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, but I suppose we’ll have to just keep following her on this one.” Solu-Dev spoke to Solu-Fal quietly.

Solu-Fal reached for Gare-Sef’s hand, helping her out of the hiding spot. Her eyes adjusted to the light. The scene was desolate. Gare-Sef felt her stomach twist in disgust at what the Bond was doing to her beloved home. Tall, compact, and uniform towers were being erected on the corpse of Cel-Mot-Feron. The Bond excelled in construction even more so than in war, building entire cities in a matter of months. Homes, accommodations, food dispensaries, labor districts, industrial plants, and other constructions all were being laid down according to a schematic on a pre-approved list of city plans. One city within any of the conquered worlds of the Bond would look completely identical to a hundred others.

The survivors moved quickly, stepping over pieces of misshapen metal. Their destination was a set of coordinates which Safrif had received from another Jerusak. They promised a transport off the planet, but at a steep cost. Each traveler would have to pay 50,000 Artifine Units for safe passage to Artitur. Anything that couldn’t be paid up front would become a work debt. The journey would be dangerous, as they would need to pass through the ruins of the city and risk confronting the Bringers in order to reach the transport. Even then, they would need to leave at just the right moment in order to not be detected and destroyed by the Bond’s garrison fleet, which circled the planet in an attempt to prevent any vessels from fleeing.

 

29th of Certh, 12:58

“We are close. The ship is along trees. We will walk through the industrial district. It is the fastest and safest route.” Safrif informed the group that their destination was nearby.

Everyone was already hasty as they moved through the city in order to reduce the amount of time they would be out in the open and in risk of exposure, but now they began to increase their pace to a jog. Gare-Sef had never actually been to the industrial district before, except passing by it on route to some other part of Contlier. Clearly it had seen better days, as much of it had been pulverized by the Bond. Great factories, foundries, warehouses, and processing plants had all been reduced to heaps of scrap metal. The heat from the plasma cannons had been enough to cause the metal walls to fuse with their neighbors, resulting in an ugly, soupy gray mess of alloys.

A faint humming noise began to catch Gare-Sef’s attention. She ignored it for a moment, until it became too loud and recognizable to put out of her mind. One of the Bond’s airborne transports was headed towards them. She was not the only one to detect them, as Solu-Fal also turned to look at the source of the noise.

“Bringers! Everyone! Bringers!” Gare-Sef’s words came out as both a scream and a whisper.

The group dashed inside one of the more structurally sound factories. The humming noise continued to increase in volume until the vehicle touched down and released its passengers. Gare-Sef turned her head for only a moment to see her pursuers. The Bringers wore a white uniform emblazoned with their order’s emblem on their chests. Their faces were half metal, half flesh, with dark, soulless eyes like the planetary governor’s. Their right arm was replaced with a tasing instrument, their left an eight-fingered claw. Both of their legs were sophisticated running blades that propelled them faster than their former legs could have carried them.

Safrif drew her plasma pistol and opened fire on the Bond’s agents, hitting one square in the face. The technocrat’s body seized up as it collapsed to the ground in a resounding thud. The other Bringers halted as they sought cover behind crates and machinery.

“I will kill you, technocrats,” Safrif’s projector calmly announced.

“Submit and we shall guide you to Transcendence! Resist us and your wretched biomass will be fuel!” The captain of the Bringers’ voice boomed out from a speaker, which had replaced his mouth.

The rest of the group similarly took cover as the Bringers began firing their weapons back at Safrif. Their tasing instruments had whirred around to reveal repeating plasma weapons. Solu-Fal crawled towards Gare-Sef and embraced her. She felt warm tears soak into her shirt.

The firefight abruptly ended as one of the Bringer’s shots met their mark. Safrif’s body bashed into the wall before subsiding back down. Smoke rose from their guide’s wound. Gare-Sef’s mind went blank. She pulled her husband back up and yanked his arm with her. The rest of the group followed her as they fled the technocrats. She ran as fast as her inferior legs could carry her, before she felt her grasp on Solu-Fal fail.

Solu-Fal’s right leg had been captured within one of the eight-fingered hands of a Bringer. He was dragged away by the agents with astonishing speed and tased into unconsciousness. Gare-Sef did not even have the time to scream before Betvin’s humongous form set upon the Bringers. The towering Iden refused to be subdued, casting one of the Bringers into a wall with one swipe of his arm.

Gare-Sef felt her heart split in half. She saw the first moment she met Solu-Fal at a Lightingday festival. She had caught his attention from all the way across the park and he quickly prepared a “gift” for her, in the form of his contact information. Their marriage entered her consciousness next. The Light intertwined them together not even four years ago. Instinct took control of her mind and overpowered her burning, aching desire to rescue her husband, and instead willed her to continue running.

Light revealed itself at the end of the factory through one of its windows. Gare-Sef leapt through the window, tailed closely behind by Konduir, and then Solu-Dev. The trio ran as far away from the industrial district as their hungry bodies could carry them. Betvin’s roars grew more distant the further they ran, until they were finally silent.

They had escaped the city, and were now shambling across its outskirts. Short grasses blew peacefully in the wind. The deep red leaves of a few trees swayed along the hillside, where, just as Safrif had promised, a transport ship sat, partially covered by the leaves and grasses. A Jerusak hopped out of the ship to meet them.

“Our ship broke down, trust me. We will have it fixed soon, trust me.” the Jerusak’s projector sounded hauntingly similar to Gare-Sef’s late friend.

“We are not with the Bond. We are friends of the honorable Safrif.” Konduir said solemnly.

The Jerusak’s demeanor changed immediately. “Safrif. Of course. Certainly. Our friend as well. Where is she?”

“She fought the Bringers,” Gare-Sef’s response was quiet.

The Jerusak ruffled his arm feathers in a way that even Gare-Sef could understand meant shock.

“Unfortunate. She was brave?” the Jerusak’s translated response clearly did not convey his emotion.

“She was,” Solu-Dev said. This was the first time he had spoken since his brother’s capture.

“Come with us, Veltsirians. This is the right time,” The Jerusak motioned for the humans to enter his ship. “I am Yatkhril.”

The remaining survivors introduced themselves tiredly to Yatkhril and his crew. He was the only one with a translator projector or receptor, so the other Jerusak simply ruffled their feathers in approval. The ship’s engines came to life and lifted the vessel upwards. Yatkhril shouted out orders to his crew.

Gare-Sef looked out of one of the ship’s windows as Contlier faded away. Dark clouds of smoke filled the sky across her planet. Guilt seeped through Gare-Sef with every tear. She knew she could never forgive herself for leaving her love on Contlier to be torn apart and put back together again by the Bond, or worse, just turned into their cannibalistic food source. She wanted to punch through the window and fall back onto the planet to beg him for forgiveness.

She grieved not just for her lost husband, but for Safrif, who had proven to be one of her truest friends. While she never could completely understand the saurian’s speech, she knew that Safrif’s final stand was what earned Gare-Sef her chance to keep going, something Gare-Sef understood with complete clarity. Even Betvin, who she had never known until the war began, had given up his freedom for her and the others. She had to persevere for them so that their sacrifices wouldn’t be wasted.

Solu-Dev leaned his forehead against the ship’s walls and breathed in mechanically. Konduir tended to a wound he had received from a stray plasma bolt. The Jerusak crew anxiously worked on the ship as it attempted to pass into the leap zone undetected. Yatkhril paid close attention to the positions of the Bond’s garrison fleet on the ship’s scanner output. Their escape had been timed perfectly, as the heavy cruiser and twin destroyers of the garrison fleet all were focused on different parts of the planet. He ignited the leap drive, producing a wormhole for the ship to safely pass through.

Gare-Sef’s tears on the window distorted her view of the glittering world of Artitur as they approached it. The Artifine capital was sure to accept them. Gare-Sef’s main concern was if she could accept herself.

 

Photo: Thais Silva