But with a Whisper

But with a Whisper

She glitters as she falls amid the stars. The dropship is already masked and gone: no turning back, no second thoughts. Alone. The planet of her enemy grows closer. A little longer, and a single word, and the invasion will commence at last. She plummets on, ignoring frantic interference from the surface, doing her best to disregard the lies the aliens are broadcasting forth.

“Platoon commander, we’re targeting you now. We never fire on descending troops unless there’s no choice. Your time runs short. Surrender now, say ‘yield,’ and you will live. Shut down your weaponry, or else we’re prepared…”

“Ignore them!” sends her captain from the ship. “Just like we trained: the enemy is glib and full of lies. Maintain your silence till the very end.”

“Platoon commander, you have been misled. You’re a clone: your primer is long dead. Your memories and training are reused for each invasion, time and time again. There have been others. Please, let us explain…”

She falls toward the homeworld of her foe. The billions of nanobots from her pack unfold into the finest wings of silver gossamer. Her high-tech visor shows her goal: the ugly red-and-brown planet, and the point where her platoon can stage the perfect strike. Like an avenging angel from old legends, she heralds certain doom.

“Platoon commander, you’re not the first. We fought you countless times. We took you prisoner on several occasions. Here is proof.”

The scattered broadcast shifts. She finds she can’t resist her curiosity, and she accepts this stream of information. Inside, strange images of her and all her comrades. There’s Victor, and Helena, and Sebastian, but older now: long hair and open smiles. There’s a photo of three women who resemble her. A child stands by their side…

It cannot be.

It has to be a lie.

The enemy is wily, clever, with no honor.

And yet, the doubts creep in – first one, then more. Can she be sure of anything before? Why is her jumpsuit different from the one in training? Why was the dropship so much more advanced? She can’t be sure, and her resolve is waning. That final photo… Can she take that chance?

She shakes her head, refocusing her mind. Recall the mission: launch, descend, and find the perfect landing site, and utter the command that would unleash the weaponry she carries. Then let the bots attack and win the war.

The lies continue.

“Platoon commander, you’re not alone. We know your past, we know where you grew up –”

“They’re scanning neural frequencies!” her captain yells. “Don’t underestimate –” and then his signal fails. Just her now, and the enemy below. Only two minutes, and then none of this will matter.

She keeps on falling. The captain’s ship is silenced. The enemy disables electronics with a magnetic blast. Her visor is offline. There’s no longer a heads-up display to show the vital signs, or where to strike, no battle indicators, and no data. Yet for the first time since she woke aboard the dropship, her sight is clear: there’s no more red veneer.

She sees now that the world she falls toward is blue and green, a sphere of breathless beauty. Just like old pictures of her homeworld, long ago, before this endless and relentless war. Her cybernetic implants flicker, spark, and hum as they keep trying to reboot themselves. She wonders if the mission will succeed.

She plummets through the upper atmosphere when suddenly, the broadcast intensifies. 

“Platoon commander, we’re targeting you now. We never fire upon cloned combatants unless there’s no choice. Your time runs short. You only need to say a single word. Say ‘yield.’ We’ll find and rescue you and all your comrades. Give us consent, and you’ll rejoin the others. You will live.”

That seems so strange… The enemy she trained for is a monster, one with no morals or concerns for human life. This world she falls toward is meant to be a military fortress, and yet her unaugmented vision shows her the shapes of purple cities rising high, their slender golden towers, flying cars, and spacious turquoise gardens.

It’s almost time.

“Platoon commander, we beseech you. Please acknowledge. Say ‘yield.’ You will be spared. You’ll live.”

One more magnetic blast. Her implants die at last: all that remains is the compressed and shielded lethal weaponry, her codeword as its final failsafe trigger.

As time runs out, memories flood in. Her thirteenth birthday. Strawberry shortcake. The orbital bombardment. No more Mom and Dad. The underground orphanage, the dread, the years of tireless preparation, and, at last, the special forces. Bootcamp hell: more training than she had ever imagined. The weapon fusing human and machine as even now, the tech alone can’t win without human guidance. The word she chooses to control her mighty weapon: “Goliath.”

Forty seconds left. The final warning startles her awake as she keeps falling: closer, closer, close. The world beneath her beckons, green and soft.

The planet’s tireless broadcast stops at last, but just as she prepares, there’s one last message, voiced by somebody else.

“Maya, it’s me. I’m you. Before you choose, I’ve just two words for you: strawberry shortcake.”

Her vision blurs. Blood rushes to her head. That can’t be possible, that can’t be true, and yet… What is she, then? What does this make of her? A clone, a human, a monster raised for war? Her childhood memories – were they ever true? They feel so vivid, yet they are so few…

But then the captain’s warning comes to mind: the enemy is wily, and they’d scanned her. What were they looking for? What did they find? How does she know this wasn’t just a ruse, a cruel prank intended to confuse her?

Unbidden tears rise up and fill her eyes. She looks at that strange photo once again. The alien skies embrace her.

No more time.

She glitters as she falls amid the clouds, a mighty warrior from another world. She finally makes her choice, and whispers…