AN: 11 Advanced Chapters on my Patreon
https://www.patreon.com/cw/Crimson_Reapr
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It had now been eight months since Mark had stumbled his way into Anahrin's life, or more like fallen right into it. Anahrin had taken quite a liking to Mark, and Mark had even taken to calling him Ani, a shortened nickname due to his name and because he reminded Mark of a certain chosen one from a form of entertainment called "movies" in Mark's previous life, or holotapes as they were referred to now.
Anahrin had been surprised by the speed at which Mark had been absorbing all of the information he had been teaching him. Sure, Anahrin had pretty much rebuilt Mark from the ground up and was only teaching him things that were essential. However, Mark's absorption of knowledge was something that was far beyond his own expectations. His brain had been acting almost like a sponge to every single word Anahrin let loose.
Anahrin had taken the liberty of running a brain scan on Mark one night while he slept, and was shocked to see that his operation and the changes he had made to Mark had been much more fruitful than he had initially anticipated. According to the scans, Mark's Neuroplasticity had been permanently made equivalent to that of a newborn of the Strathari. To the Strathari, a 10 to 20-year-old of their species was still considered a newborn, and Anahrin himself was still relatively young, while being over 2500 years old. In other words, if Mark dedicated himself to learning something, his brain would quickly adapt to it and allow him to absorb that information faster and smoother than a normal person's. That explained why Mark had been able to almost perfectly learn over 8 years of advanced education in just 8 months, even though he had never touched those materials due to pursuing a military career.
But that wasn't the only thing Anahrin had found peculiar about the remade human. As a matter of fact, something that had shaken Anahrin to his very core was when Mark's memories lay bare before his eyes all those months ago. The awareness of a previous life and its memories and the connection to the Universe's origin that was growing ever stronger within Mark's body with each passing day left the Strathari reminiscing.
The Strathari civilization had theorized on a repertoire of things that would come after death, though, just like humanity, they never came to a consensus on what came next. Some believed in reincarnation, others believed in a Creator with heaven and hell, while others just believed that you would simply die and become one with the universe once again.
Though the Starthari were extremely long-lived by human standards, they still chased immortality. His people, brilliant beyond measure, had splintered into sects that whispered about eternity but built machines and attempted ways of extending their lives further. The Strathari weren't always as long-lived as they had been by the time of their extinction, usually only living up to 1000 years at most. However, over the millennias of their existence, they had learned to extend their lifetimes to the 15,000-year mark that Anahrin was supposed to be privy to, if not for his ailment.
The irony was not lost on him: the Strathari were once a people who sought immortality, yet they were now gone, leaving only Anahrin standing as the last of them, coughing through the erosion of his body, closer to the grave with every tick of the clock.
Anahrin thought about life, contemplating the cruelty of time itself. 'How can the universe show such favoritism?' he asked himself. 'How was it that a child born of a flesh that had regressed would carry something within him that was far older than galaxies themselves?'
Whatever was within Mark had blocked Anahrin's vision of it or anything relating to it when witnessing his memories. Anahrin could feel it within his soul that whatever it was, it was an echo of the beginning, some sort of resonance that was meant to forge new realities.
Watching Mark work through the problems he had given him, watching his mind grow, his processing of information, his growing hunger for more information, it all made it worth it. It made him feel alive, even though he could feel his body's strength declining. It was something he didn't show outwardly to Mark, but he was growing tired and found himself feeling confused at times, with even some of his memories disappearing.
He remembered the one time he had almost shown his weakness before Mark. It had been just after they had finished a session of lectures, and Mark was in a trance, analyzing one of the holograms. He had sat quietly as we watched Mark work when he noticed that Mark was making a mistake. He went to stand, but almost fell as a sudden weakness overcame him. It quickly passed, but it was something that had left him stunned. He approached Mark and went to reach out a hand when he noticed how it trembled.
Instead of touching him, Anahrin put his hands behind his back and opted for speaking instead. "You absorb everything you're being taught," he whispered, though it wasn't loud enough for Mark to hear or snap out of his trance. So Anahrin just sat back down on the bench he had been on. "You carry within you the knowledge of two lives, yet you still hunger for more information. You might have been one of my most perfectly imperfect creations. You hold a spot about any ship I've ever crafted. But you're still making mistakes."
Anahrin guided Mark and showed him what he had done wrong and how to fix it.
A cough rose from within Anahrin, snapping him out of his thoughts and back to reality. He wiped his mouth, glad there was no blood to be seen. He could feel that Death was pacing him now, patiently and slowly approaching, allowing him to finish coaching Mark before coming to collect his soul. He thought of Mark's memories from two lives, and he smiled.
"Maybe," he said softly, the color of his eyes rapidly switching from their eerie blue to gold and purple. "Maybe there is hope for me. Maybe death isn't a wall. Maybe it is only a door, and as I've seen, the boy has already walked through it once."
He closed his eyes and let the thought settle. It was a strange thought to have. However, it was rather comforting. Death was only a part of the cycle of life, but it appeared not to be the end. It almost seemed as if it were rather the beginning. He hoped that he would have the same blessing as Mark and, who knows, be reborn sometime in the future with his memories intact to hopefully bear witness to the legacy Mark would leave behind.
As his thoughts drifted, Anahrin closed his eyes, his breathing falling into a rhythm as he slowly fell asleep.
The next day came rather soon, and Anahrin woke up with a strange amount of energy. He wondered if the cause of this was due to what he would be doing today with Mark. Pushing the thoughts aside, he went to wake Mark, finding the man sprawled on the uncomfortable dais that was meant for medical purposes, yet he had appropriated it as his bed.
Anahrin didn't need to do anything since Mark's heightened senses alerted him to someone else's presence in the room, waking him.
"Good morning, Ani," Mark said as he stretched. "How'd you sleep?"
Anahrin tilted his head ever so slightly as he answered the question Mark had never asked before. "Why, I slept with my eyes closed. Does humanity sleep differently?"
Mark just stared Anahrin in the eyes, his thoughts coming out of his mouth before his mind could process what he was saying. "You aren't a dumbass, are you?"
Anahrin chuckled softly. "No, I understood your question; however, you did not seem to understand my use of sarcasm. Might want to ask yourself the question you just made me."
Mark smiled as he got off the dais, looking up at Anahrin. "Eh, if there's anything wrong in this noggin' of mine, then it's your fault. You did remake me from the ground up, remember?"
Anahrin nodded as he replied. "Yes, I would be the one responsible if there was something wrong with your brain structure, or 'noggin' as you so affectionately referred to it. The only thing wrong with it is that it is working too well for your own good. Anyway, let's get going, we are about to begin the end of your stay on this planet."
Mark perked up at his words. "So that means we are finally going to start making me a ship?"
Anahrin turned around and started walking, leading Mark to one of the exits of the facility. "Yes, we are going to begin crafting you a ship. However, we are going to need material to craft the ship, and all of the material I had in storage has become dust. As you already know, I would scavenge some of the lighter materials while you would be sleeping, but there isn't anywhere near enough to feed into the nanoprinter and create a whole ship out of it. So, let's get to walking and then dragging parts back to then create something to assist us."
Anahrin donned a space suit, one that Mark recognized from his fractured memories to be the same one he had been using when he pulled him from the depths. Mark activated his pendant, and it shifted from the shirt and sweats he had been wearing to the black and red EVA suit. The pendant would self-repair over time, so there was no damage to the suit when it reappeared over Mark's skin.
They then grabbed their laser cutters, not some sleek handheld devices, but brutal tools almost the size of a grown man with oversized emitters and cables that would connect to portable generators, which was the next thing they grabbed. They finally connected to each other's comms, something that would allow them to keep in touch even if they were 20 miles apart.
A beautiful, almost pink, sunrise greeted the pair through a square window on the door to the exterior as they stepped into one of the airlocks, the door behind them closing before the chamber depressurized to match the outside atmosphere. The door of the facility then opened, and they exited the facility.
Mark tapped Anahrin's arm before they could move and spoke to him. "Give me a second, I just remembered that I have something that will help us out."
Anahrin stared at Mark as he tapped on the air, wondering to himself what Mark was doing. However, his confusion quickly shifted to surprise as a Solar-Charged Loading Rover appeared in front of them. The rover resembled an Oshkosh M983 Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Truck with an expanded cabin, one meant for space, with an extremely big flatbed that was 24 meters long and 6 meters wide, and a clawlike arm that could extend longer than the length of the flatbed itself to allow for loading.
Anahrin was left speechless at the sight of the rover that hadn't been there a few seconds ago, while Mark's smirk could be clearly seen through the visor of his helmet. "What do you think, Ani? Like my magic trick?"
"Magic..." Anahrin said, his voice barely above a whisper, but Mark heard him clearly through their comms. "This is no mere parlor trick. I could feel forces I cannot even begin to explain at work when this primitive transport vehicle appeared before us."
Mark was surprised at Anahrin's words; however, he put on a mockingly hurtful expression and put his hands to his chest. "Primitive transport vehicle? Ani, man, you hurt both me and Betsy."
Anahrin's brows furrowed, and he let out a heavy sigh. "You... already named the transport vehicle..."
Mark ignored him and proceeded to load up all of their tools onto the back of the cabin before going to the driver's door, opening it, and hopping in. Anahrin had remained standing in the same spot, prompting Mark to call over to him. "Hey, you planning on coming, or are you going to walk to the site of the crashed ships?"
Anahrin moved, walking around to the passenger side of the rover, stopping as he opened the door, a realization dawning on his eyes. "It appears I will not be able to fit in your 'Betsy'. Perhaps I should sit on the flat back of it and pray to the universe that your driving doesn't send me careening off onto the sand."
Mark nodded. He hadn't thought about it when he entered the rover, but the cabin was far too small for Anahrin's tall body to fit, even if he was sitting down on the floor. "Yeah, I think you're going to have to do that. But don't worry, I won't get you killed... I think."
Mark grinned as he fired up Betsy, the rover giving out a low hum as its solar cells flickered faintly across its chassis while its systems adjusted to absorb the planet's morning light to maintain charge. The machine was bulky, and though Mark had never driven a semi truck in either one of his lives, he handled her like he had been born with a steering wheel in his hands.
Anahrin, on the other hand, was perched cross-legged on the flatbed, sitting in an almost meditative posture as the landscape rolled past them. He looked strange against the utilitarian bulk of the rover, but at the same time, a sort of serene peace seemed to cloak him.
The trip across the red sand dunes of the planet was long, with the silence in the air being broken only by the conversations Mark and Anahrin were having and the occasional hiss of the rover's treads against the sand. After a while, the shadow of a wreck lay before them, causing Mark to slowly and gradually bring the rover to a stop before continuing to drive again.
A destroyer lay half-buried in the sand, its bow completely gone, the exposed metal scorched and twisted outward like a massive explosion had gone off from the inside. Even with the major damage done to the bow of the ship, the rest of it still stretched for almost 450 meters, though most of its armored hull had been packed full of holes, some melted clean through, and others not fully penetrated. It was also about 175 meters tall, indicating that this husk belonged to what was once a heavy destroyer.
Mark whistled as he parked Betsy near the afy section. "Hey, Ani... she's massive. And are we just going to be cutting it into chunks small enough to haul it back on Betsy?" He slapped the top of Betsy's cabin as he leaned out, hanging on to the door.
Anahrin's voice was calm and steady as he answered. "Mark, how many times must I tell you that you heavily underestimate the things that patience will allow you to do? It is obvious that one would not conquer a mountain through a single step. You have to carve away, little by little, until the mountain that once stood before you is manageable."
Mark hopped down, his boots crunching into the sand. "Yeah, yeah. Guess we'd better get started and take advantage of the daylight."
They unloaded the cutting lasers first and set them up, connecting them to the portable batteries. Mark lugged one, and though his body was far stronger than an average human due to the changes to his physiology, he still struggled under the weight. But once he saw Anahrin, with that irritating calmness, lift his own as if it were a child's toy, a sense of determination welled up in him, and he managed to find a comfortable way to handle it.
They marked the length of what would be the first section, about 24 meters long, a length long enough to be about the same length as the flatbed. Mark thanked his lucky stars that his EVA suit had an in-built environmental control system; otherwise, he'd be sweating beads under his helmet. "Hey, Ani, do I just... I don't know. Point and shoot?"
Anahrin's laughter crackled softly through the comms as he replied. "If it were only that easy. No, you have to focus, maintain steady hands, and move constantly. Metal does not tend to yield evenly, so you must guide the laser on the same lines, over and over again. Otherwise, you'd just be welding it together."
Mark thanked Anahrin as he braced himself. He pulled the trigger and watched as a beam of white shot out of his laser cutter and carved into the wreckage of the destroyer. The sound reminded him of the scene he had woken up to before crashing onto this planet, a mix between thunder and the shriek of tearing steel. The area he was cutting glowed bright as the smell of vaporized alloy flooded the air, not that either one of them could smell it.
It was hard work, and even with the advanced tools that Anahrin had printed, their progress was slow. The hull plating of a destroyer is layered, and though flat, like the majority of humanity's ships, it was still meant to withstand the fire of railguns and the ever-so-often hit from a missile. Every meter that mark cut felt like the ship itself was still fighting to hold itself together long after its own death.
Hours passed with neither one of them taking a break. The sun arced higher before eventually beginning its slow descent, staining the sky with oranges and pinks. By then, they had already separated six full sections, each about 8 meters wide by 24 meters long. Every single time they would set one free from the frame of the ship, it would slam into the sand with a loud clang.
Mark collapsed against Betsy's tread, panting from the hard labor. "Man, I could never imagine myself working in a damn strip yard... We just barely got 6 slices, and the ship looks no different than when we got here. I think I'm gonna die before we make any progress."
Anahrin stood tall before Mark, his appearance betrayed by a single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. "You're exaggerating. Humans are far more resilient than they know, and you, you should be far more resilient. Besides, this labor is not meaningless. Each section we cut brings us closer to creating your ship. Are you not excited to take your rightful place amongst the stars?"
Mark looked at the glowing marks on the wreck; the parts where they had just been cut and had yet to cool off. He then looked at the cut sections waiting to be hauled. "I feel it in my back, that's for sure." He laughed, then softened. "But yeah. I get it. This is… the real deal. More real than just sitting in a chair, toying around with holograms, and tinkering around in virtual simulations. I already have a vision for what it will look like. A destroyer cruising through the-"
Anahrin interrupted Mark with a simple, "No."
Mark whipped his head in Anahrin's direction, his voice filled with confusion. "Huh? What do you mean, no?"
Anahrin gave Mark a deadpan look as he recited something he had found on humanity's web. "Humanity's law on intergallactic travel, Article I.2763, section 783a, line 237 clearly stated that, and I quote, 'A spacecraft in the classification of a Destroyer, Cruiser, and/or Dreadnaught may only be operated by a Foreign Dignitary, a Corporation with expressed permission, ship Escort Agencies, Military authorities, and Mercenary companies that have been recognized to act under the banner of the Mercenry Association.' Mark, I'm sorry to tell you this, but you were declared missing in action and presumed dead over 8 months ago. You don't fit any of these parameters for the time being."
"So no, we will not be making a destroyer. I don't want you to have any more issues than you will with the fake identity I have managed to slowly input into human systems over the past few months. It's still under the same name you currently hold, though with a slight variation in your last name. Mark Shephard, a name that is thankfully held by a couple of dozen thousand people. No one should bat an eye at it unless they decide to dig in deep, especially into your background. Things kind of start getting... messy."
Mark seemed to sink deeper into the sand after hearing Anahrin's response. "Damn... guess no destroyer, for now... Wait, what do you mean by fake identity? And I'm considered dead?"
Anahrin sighed. "Well, of course, you need a fake identity. You cannot just waltz back into IUC space and say, 'I am Captain Mark Shepherd. I was aboard my outdated Heavy Frigate, the Perseverance, when I led my fleet into an ambush because I was given false data. I was declared dead and yadih yadah.' Especially not with the face you now have. You look nothing like you once did."
Mark raised his brows as he looked at the top of his boot on his one outstretched leg. "I guess you have a point." He then stood up off the sand and stretched the top of his back forward until he heard the familiar pop of his spine cracking into place at his lower back. "Alright, let's get these things loaded up before getting back to it."