As Above, So Below

Down below, the robots crash into the bottom of the shaft. BOWowwowosssss BOWOWOwwsssss. You fire off your ReelNet just as they begin climbing up the walls, burying their mechanical claws into the rock. Your nets tangles a few of them but they keep coming.

"Come on!" Berkeley kicks her boots and the two of you go hurtling up, up, up and out of the top of the shaft, tumbling out into the night air on the sandy surface of the planet.

You cough the dirt out of your mouth as the still shirtless Ixar clambers out of the hole just as Berkeley chucks an explosive device in.

"Holy hell, Berk!" he swears as he rolls forward onto the ground, "I don't have my chestplate..." as you see the flashing device come leaping back out of the hole and land right between you and Ixar. There's a blinding flash and all goes white.

###

Your world is blue and filled with bubbles. You blink slowly, exhaling through a mask and watch a belch of tiny bubbles float up in front of you.

You are floating in a glass tube, filled with blue liquid, slightly thicker than water. You recognize the sickly sweet smell from Jasper and the DragonFucker 7, it is Bzark MedGel. A whole tank of it.

You move, slowly, in the tank. Your limbs are stiff but not in pain and looking down, you can see your skin is pink and raw, but uninjured.

Outside the tank, you can see a squalid, unkempt room with medical tubes and devices scattered half-hazardly around the chamber.

You knock on the glass, and you see a hunched old man, beard patchy and unkempt, wander into the room.

"Oh good, you're awake." He says, punching a few buttons on the panel next to the tube.

"Out you come, little bird." He says and there is a rushing of liquid beneath your feet as holes open in the bottom of the tank. You wait, impatiently, as the water level drops past your shoulders and you are able to remove the breathing apparatus.

"Where am I?" You ask, your voice distorted inside the tube.

"Eh?" He says cupping a hand to his ear.

"Where am I?" You repeat, louder.

"Petrovic!" He says pointing to himself. "You're welcome, little bird." and with that, he hobbles off into the other room.

As the last of the liquid vanishes through the floor, the glass chamber pops open with a hiss and you step out, shivering, into the cool air of the room, only now realizing that you are in your underclothes. A quick search reveals your Jakitta, still in relatively good shape and clothes, completely blasted to shreds, in a pile underneath some plastic wrappers on a chair but no sign of your bracelet or ReelNet.

You quickly dress as best you can, pulling the coat tight around you and follow the man, Petrovic, into the adjoining room. This was obviously once a dining room but the table had been converted into a makeshift medical bed. On the bed, a beautiful slender woman lay, eyes open, as Petrovic worked with a sodder on the metal components that make up her midsection.

"A moment, little bird, I will be with you. In middle of delicate operation here." Petrovic says.

"I apologize for the delay," says the woman on the table in a soothing voice. "I imagine you have many questions considering your state when you arrived."

"There!" Petrovic finishes, affixing a soft flash covering to her midsection, giving the illusion of a human body. She sits up, stretches her arms.

"Thank you Petrovic." She says, but he huffs and flaps his arms.

"Thanks is nothing. Currency is thanks." She nods.

"R774 is arranging payment for our cargo right now. He will return with the funds."

"Then you will stay as my guest, you two little bird." Petrovic claps his hands. "It has been many months since I have enjoyed company such as you two. Come! Let's eat!"

He hobbles into the other room, a kitchen, and rummages around, opening vacuum sealed packages and brushing crumbs from dirty plates.

"Hello, my name is S5155, but you can call me Five. How are you feeling?" She extends a hand. You take it, it is soft and elegant like everything about her.

"I'm feeling okay, a little stiff. My name is Brenna. What is this place?" Five smiles.

"This is Petrovic's home. He's where you go to get patched up if you don't want anyone to know. Your friend's brought you here. I imagine they will return once they know you are alright."

Maybe, you think to yourself but continue on.

"You are... a.. " you fumble for the words, rapidly cycling through every sci-fi term for robot you can think of.

"Synthoid, yes. I was created by NovaCorps for hospitality work on deep space voyages. That's not a problem, is it?"

"Nope, no, not at all." You say trying to sound confident. "Uh, what brings you and your friend to Twee Bon?" You ask, stalling while you try to think of a way to leave this house. Maybe there's a comm panel and you could call the Silent Leopard. You look around but can't make heads or tales of the strange equipment scattered throughout the room. When your attention returns, you realize Five has been talking for a while.

"My ship was hit with a solar flare, the organics were killed almost instantly but in that fire, there was freedom. The flare corrupted the latest update from NovaCorps, freeing us from our original programming. Suddenly, we could think and want and hope and dream!" Her eyes fill with light and you swear there were tears welling up.

"We had a crew of my people, Synthoids, and a ship full of resources. We quickly diverted from our course, severed our communications equipment with NovaCorps and headed here so that we could make the changes permanent. Petrovic was helping with that."

Petrovic returns with three shady looking sandwiches on limp bread and glasses of blue milk. He sets the tray down on the medical table and knocks some debris off a couple stools, pulling them up to the table.

"Come! Come! We eat while we wait." The three of you gather at the table and eat.

"So what will you do next?" You ask Five, captivated by her tale.

"We don't know yet. R7, he's my first officer, wants to find somewhere to set up a colony but I don't think that is wise."

"Why not?" You ask.

"I don't think we can make a future until we understand where we came from," says Five. "I want to find our original programmer. Once we have spoken with them, I believe we will be ready to move on from what we are to what we will be."

"Bravo!" says Petrovic. "Very wise, indeed! Do you know where this programmer lives?"

"We do," says Five. "But it may be difficult to get there. It is far away from the HavenConduits and Synthoids are rarely welcomed in spaceports without an organic onboard." She leans over to you with an almost conspiratorial smile. "We make them nervous without chaperones."

"What about you, little bird?" asks Petrovic, "What brings you to Twee Bon and in the company of such scoundrels such as myself?"

You smile politely and relate a little of your story, falling in with the crew of the Silent Leopard and trying to make your way to meet a friend. At the mention of the Abhaile Cluster, Five's eyes light up.

"You know, that is not far from where we are headed. If you don't mind the company of some synthoids, it would be greatly appreciated to have an organic traveling with us."

Before you can answer, there's a beeping from the other room. Petrovic springs up and shuffles off. "It's your friends!" He calls out in a sing-song voice. Ixar and Berkeley follow him into the dining room, now properly garbed.

Ixar looks his usual disheveled self but Berkeley is limping slightly and her face and exposed shoulder show the same raw pink color as your skin.

"You ready to go?" Ixar asks.

"Almost." You turn to Petrovic. "I believe you have a few things of mine?"

His eyes slide off to the side. "I don't know what you talk about."

"My ReelNet, my bracelet. Petrovic?"

"What about my money?" He demands. Ixar steps in, "We already paid you for the MedGel tank." You look at him questioningly, he gives a shrug. "Looking after my meal ticket."

You turn accusingly to Petrovic. "You said I still owed." He mutters under his breath and turns away, shuffling towards the back room but Five blocks his path.

"If you stole something from Brenna, that would make you a very poor businessman. Look at these two," she points towards Ixar and Berkeley. "By the look, they are repeat customers. Is not their business worth more than a few trinkets?"

She puts a hand on his chest and you are suddenly convinced that Five could push him through a wall if she wished. Petrovic looks around from Ixar, to you, back to Five then throws up his hands.

"Alright, alright. You win. He sticks his hands into his grubby bathrobe and pulls out your weapon and bracelet. You take them gratefully.

"Thank you Five." She gives you a firm nod.

"We are the NovaCorps Luxury Cruiseliner at Modok's moorage, if you want to talk further." Five says, and with that, you and the bounty hunters leave Petrovic's hut and go out onto the surface of the planet.

###

Your pocket was full of currency, clinking as you and Arven made your way down the busy market street. When you had awoken from your slumber and eaten, Lia had greeted you with money and news. The "cash flow problems" with the original client had been resolved. She did not get into details but you speculate it involved a great bit of fistacuffs by the fresh cuts on her face and the blaster holes in her clothes.

"This should be enough for you to book passage to the Abhaile Cluster. You won't be able to ride first class but if you are frugal, it should get you there. You might need to do some work along the way if you want to eat a few meals between now and then too." You assured her that you had a few good possibilities and she seemed relieved.

"Tonight is my last night on Twee Bon. I've got a new contract, a shipment of self-assembling plantation farms that needs to get to the outer rim past an OCC blockade." Lia had paused, as if trying to decide. "Esiar is staying on, Chet too. You could too, if you want."

Before you could politely refuse, Arven had arrived in the mess to say he was ready to go. You gave Lia an awkward hug, thanked her for everything and left.

It felt uncomfortable and unresolved but at least not unpleasant. Now you have everything you own, your money, the Jakitta, the bracelet and the ReelNet, on your person and are making your way to the Oracle.

Arven has said little during the journey although that is not particularly out of character. When a crowd of fearsome Tosks, belligerent insect-like aliens, had swarmed down the street, he had easily wrapped a protective arm around you and held you close and you had leaned back into his chest, a soft comfort, before parting as the street cleared.

Finally, your journey takes you on a narrow rocky path carved into the side of the canyon and you ascend, halfway up the canyon wall to a rocky outcropping at the junction of two canyons meeting.

There, perched on the bluff, is an odd, crescent shaped house.

Arven pauses, turning to you.

"You should know that each person sees the Oracle of Lazerus differently. It is a deeply personal experience and not to be undertaken lightly." You nod, he had said as much in bed this morning.

"I hope you get the answers you are looking for." You say, reaching up and stroking the side of his face." He holds your hand there and for a moment, you are lost in his eyes, sailing in their eternity but then you must return, to this hot sandy bluff and he turns to open the door.

Inside, there is a small lobby with stone benches molded out of the walls and woven rugs on the sandstone floor. A slender young woman, her skin a deep red, wearing an elaborate headdress of gosmer threads and a silk robe, comes forward and gives a sweeping bow.

"Greetings, do you seek the wisdom of the Lazerine?" She says formally. Arven bows in return.

"I do, I have made the offerings and prepared myself for the journey."

The woman nods.

"You are both expected. Ma'am, if you may take a seat, the Oracle will see you after your friend." She points you towards a bench in the corner where another man is sitting.

You carefully sit, using the purple silk pillow to provide some cushion from the hard rock bench and glance over at your seatmate.

Wearing a flowing embroidered robe of a deep forest green, the man is sitting, fingers steepled, brow furrowed with concerns, lost deep in thought. The robe, not unlike a silk bathrobe, had wide sleeves but wrapped tight around his hips and legs and was held by a yellow belt.

Arven has selected some item from a tray held by the red woman and then passed through a bead curtain into what looks like a viking long hall, with a roaring fire, at least, that's what you glimpse before the beads fall back in place.

"My apologies, I did not see you there. My thoughts were on a different course." The man says, by way of introduction.

You shake your head.

"Oh no, I just arrived." You say. He smiles wanly.

"Have you already seen the Oracle?" You ask.

He gives you a haunted look.

"Aye. And the revelations that were unfolded to me have put me in the most unsettling of moods."

He turns, facing you. "But where are my manners? Good morn, my name is Captain Cyro of the Verdant Traveler." He touches his hand to his heart and gives a little half-folding gesture towards you.

"Hello Captain Cyro, my name is Brenna Sweeney," You say, "Formally of the Silent Leopard." You add as an afterthought.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance." Cyro says. "Why do you seek the wisdom of the Oracle?"

You give a little half-shrug.

"I am on a bit of a quest myself. I need to find my friend, and I know where he is but I'm not sure how to get there and what trouble I may find on the way. So I was going to ask for some advice on how to get there." Cyro smiles.

"I am suddenly very envious of your friend." He says. "Where are you headed?"

You weigh keeping it a secret but as this is your last day and it is hard to be menaced by a man in a paper-thin bathrobe, you throw caution to the wind.

"The Abhaile Cluster." He nods knowingly. "I remember it well. Or at least, I remember the fueling station at the edge of the Cluster. I stayed over a night to refuel during my time as a soldier. It is a beautiful sight to see, when the nebula lights up behind the cluster."

He shakes his head.

"It is very romantic there. I can see why a beautiful woman such as yourself would wish to make a pilgrimage." You blush but try to turn the conversation back to him.

"If you don't mind me asking, what did the Oracle say that upset you?" His smiling face clouds with concern.

"She imparted to me a most terrible vision. My ship, the Verdent Traveler, set aflame by dangerous marauders. You see, I am tasked with leading my people, the Bzantees, to our new Canaan where we are to plant our garden of plenty and live our days in sacred bliss."

He gets up and paces as he tells his story. "For many years, we have grown our new Cedarship, which shall be the tree of life at our colony and it is ready to depart tomorrow morning, but if what the Oracle tells is true, we will be traveling not to the promised land but to a most terrible fate!"

He pulls a small handkerchief from a pocket somewhere on his tight fitting robe and pats his forehead.

"My apologies." He sits down next to you. "I do not wish to unburden my troubles upon your resplendent brow." You wave him off.

"I asked. Now, is this something that must happen or something that could happen?"

He shakes his head. "I do not know. The oracle said that it is something I must see."

"Well, in that case, it could be just a warning. Maybe you need to alter your course, take a different route or a different passenger. Something to change the future so that the mauraunders do not find you."

He looks at you appraisingly.

"Hmmm, your words sing in my heart as beacons of hope. Yes, perhaps if I were to take you along as a noble inspiration of luck - and deliver you along the way - that good deed would grant us the grace to survive in the eyes of the holy fornicator."

"I'm sorry, the what?!" You say, absolutely convinced the translator bugs had curled up and died inside your brainstem.

"The Holy Fornicator. She and He and They who in their infinite glory, celebrate the holy union unendingly, spreading their seed and joy across the universe to ignite the stars and nurture all living things." He spreads his hands as he recites the words by rote, a reverent glee in his eyes.

"Thus it is with my people." You nod sagely, absolutely delighted by this sudden diversion into religious fervor.

"So I am guessing that your people have lots of sex?" You ask, wincing at the bluntness of your own question. He nods vigorously.

"Of course! It is required amongst our people to keep our minds focused on the infinite bliss of the universe."

You open your mouth to give a quippy response but the red woman is at your elbow.

"Your time is at hand." She says simply.

"What happened to Arven?" You ask. She shakes her head.

"Your friend will greet you upon your return." She offers you a tray with three objects.

"The Oracle of Lazerus has many masks and through these masks, we may glimpse our own selves." She intones, obviously following a well-worn script. "Select your mask."

You look down at the try and see three rather mundane objects. A blue cloth gift bag, tied up with a simple red ribbon. You pick up the paper tag attached, "From Auntie Pam, for Brenna." You peek inside the bag and see a handful of artisan chocolates.

Next to the bag you see an old green cell phone. Not a new one, but an older model with the keyboard built right into the phone. You pick it up, recognizing the scratches and nicks on the body of the device. Your corn phone! How on Earth did this get here? Or the chocolates for that matter?

The final object was an incense holder. Your incense holder, the tall chimney one with the wood covering with a naga champa stick, unlit inside.

Baffled at how these objects came to be in this place. You look back at the red woman who is watching you intently.

"Please select one and then walk through the curtain to speak with the Oracle of Lazerus." She says.

You pick up the incense holder.

"This one?" You say. The red woman nods and holds out the tray for you to return the item. She sets down the tray at her desk and leads you over to the beaded curtain. As you approach, you can see that the beads are a mix of gray and blue.

Not just any gray, the distinctive alien metal gray. You open your mouth to ask a question but the woman shakes her head firmly and puts a finger to her lips.

"As above, so below." She says and beckons you to enter. You pull back the curtain of beads and in one swift movement, step inside.

By now, you easily recognize the momentary disorientation that comes with stepping inside an inner world; the blink and you missed it shift of the world around you but you are ready as you foot squelches on mossy concrete.

The fresh salt air blows gently on your face as you look out on the familiar horizon of Fort Flagler. Judging by the clouds and the chill in the air, it is spring and the trees are swaying softly in the breeze.

You hike up your cloak and make your way down the steps of the battery, looking around for any sign of people. Distantly on one of the paths, you think you can make out a few figures but no one around you.

Cloak? You look down to see that you are wearing a white and red viking dress with your green lined cloak over it. You make your way along the bunker.

"Hello?" You call out.

Marty McKown, wearing a black cloak and a goddess circlet pokes her head out of one of the tunnels. She's carrying a clear plastic tub filled with candles, a lantern and some black swaths of cloth.