Eric Brown - The Serene Invasion

Because he was better than that, and anyway the Obterek was heading directly towards him — and he knew exactly what he had to do.

Behind him, as he began running to meet the alien, he heard Sally’s desperate cry — and for all the world he wanted not to go through with this; he wanted to turn to Sally and tell her that he loved her so very much… but he consoled himself, as he came within metres of the alien figure, with the knowledge that Sally already knew this.

The Obterek dodged him, jinked to his right and sprinted for the takrea . Allen dived and managed to trip the creature, which leapt to its feet with amazing agility and sprinted towards the obelisk.

Allen ran and in desperation dived after the figure as it hit the surface of the takrea . He fastened his arms around its muscular midriff and held on. The Obterek screamed, a terrifying war cry which Allen interpreted as acknowledgment of its defeat.

He felt a searing pain, and before it overwhelmed him he repeated the figures Kath had bequeathed him…

And then he was suddenly elsewhere …

And he felt no more.

IT HAPPENED SO fast that Sally was unable to scream — and at the same time it seemed an age between Geoff’s leaving her side and his reaching Kath. Sally stepped forward as he ran towards the figure, wanting to prevent what he was about to do; it was as if she knew, even now, what was about to happen, and while a small part of her wanted to scream aloud in denial, another part of her realised the inevitability of events.

Geoff slammed into the Obterek, seemed to merge with it, and then vanished, taking the Obterek with him.

Sally wept.

Ana came to her side, holding her upright, and Nina joined them and uttered soothing words. She held onto them desperately like the survivor of some terrible shipwreck.

As one they looked up as a blinding white light — like a supernova high above Titan — exploded silently in the dark, star-flecked heavens.

SALLY WALSH SAT on the bench beneath the cherry tree as the guests mingled on the lawn, chatting and laughing and occasionally glancing into the sky. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, a charge of expectation. Sally had feared this day for a long time but, now that it had come, she realised that she had known all along that it was something that had to be lived through, and that in doing so she would be stronger.

She examined the grain of the wood beneath her wrinkled fingers, then the cherry blossom above her head, and then looked along the length of the crowded lawn to the house. It was hard to imagine that it was not the same garden where, almost thirty years ago, she and Geoff had sat out on summer nights drinking red wine and chatting. The house and garden were identical in every respect to the ones that she had left behind on Earth, and then on Mars; she had always accused Geoff of being a stick-in-the-mud, but she realised that she was just as guilty, to drag this shibboleth of old times across the solar system to this place, the first section of the Shell to be inhabited.

She watched Hannah playing with her daughter Ella; and nearby Ana and Kapil laughing with their teenage boys; Ana had aged well. In her mid-forties now, she was still handsome, with a streak of grey in her hair. She too had migrated to the Shell with her husband, together managing the vast farm that fed the colonists of the sector. Nina Ricci had moved from Mars and Natascha had made the trip with her.

Other friends from down the years had accepted her invitation to the party: Ben Odinga from Kallani, Uganda, in his eighties now and frail, and Yan Krasnic, the same age but still as massive and robust. Even Mama Oola, rubicund and ageless, had made the trip and smothered Sally in her laughing, all-consuming embrace. She wished that Geoff could be here to witness this gathering of friends old and new, but of course if that were possible then this gathering would not be…

The first few years of her life without Geoff had been harder than she could ever have imagined. Her friends had rallied round, and without their love and support she might not have made it through; she had wished herself dead on more than one occasion, then hated herself for submitting to such negative, selfish emotions. Geoff himself would have chastised her for such maudlin introspection, and anyway — even if suicide had been possible — how could she have consigned those she loved to a similar grief to that which she was enduring?

And down the years the burden of his absence had become a little easier to bear; she recalled the good times together, and they sustained her, along with her family, and the extended family of Ana and Kapil. She was, all things considered, a lucky woman… even if she was almost seventy-three and slowing down reluctantly, a grandmother now — how hard that was to believe! Inside, she often thought in amazement and regret, she was still the thirty-six-year-old who had gone out to Uganda with such hopes and high ideals.

She turned away from the house and stared across the rolling grassland that stretched towards the nearest township. A narrow lane crossed the meadow, and along it beetled a small electric car: a late guest, come to join the festivities.

She watched it pull up a hundred metres away, and stared as a small, female figure climbed out and regarded the house. Sally stood quickly, her pulse accelerating. Surely that was impossible, could not be… She made a few faltering steps in the direction of the figure, who was climbing the incline towards the garden now, and they met at the wooden gate.

“I’m sorry for surprising you like this, Sally,” said Kath Kemp. “Perhaps I should have called ahead.”

Sally opened her mouth, but the words would not come. At last she managed, “You… But you—”

Kath smiled. “Technically I am Kathryn Kemp’s… ‘iteration’ — a copy, if you will. Essentially I am the same person, with all her thoughts and memories.”

“But… ten years,” Sally managed.

Kath led her back to the bench and they sat down. “It took that long for the Serene to rebuild me, install all my old memories. I would have come sooner, but that was impossible.”

“They brought you back…” Sally said, her thoughts spinning, “in which case…?”

It was as if Kath were reading her thoughts. She shook her head, gently, and took Sally’s hand. “I’m afraid that some things are beyond even the capabilities of the Serene.” She paused, then went on, “His sacrifice was ultimate, which is why we celebrate his life.”

Sally smiled and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You will stay? I mean… not only for the party, but as a guest here for a while?”

Kath laughed, the warm chuckle Sally realised she had missed all these years. “I am coming to live and work in this sector, Sally. If you would like, we can resume where we left off, all those years ago.”

“I would like nothing more,” Sally said. “We have a lot to share, and a lot to catch up on.”

She stared into her friend’s laughing, human eyes. So what, she thought, that the being before her was but an iteration of the Kath Kemp she had known and loved. That Kath Kemp had revealed herself to be not human but a construct, and even that had failed to undermine the affection she felt towards the woman.

“But I’m being a terrible host!” Sally said now. “Can I get you a drink?”

“An orange juice would be lovely.”

Sally caught the attention of a passing waiter, who fetched Kath a juice.

She sipped the drink and said, “I came here to celebrate with you, Sally, to be with you — and to tell you a little more about the Shell.”

Sally stared at her. “I sense… something ,” Sally said. “A revelation, a ‘the Shell is not all that you thought it was’ moment.”