Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

In the epic poem Inferno, Dante Alighieri informed his readers that Satan had inscribed that phrase upon the gates of Hell. It tells about a journey through the underworld, describing in lurid detail what horrors the tormented souls suffer, each according to their individual sin. It’s not for the faint of heart.

As we made our way back to Terran space, I felt a certain kinship to that ancient poet, for Elder Brother had unleashed his own version of Hades on the galaxy. Each fresh sight was a study in horror as we watched the Perseus Arm reel under the onslaught, but unlike the saga, there were no aptly ironic torments to be found. Counterfeiters weren’t afflicted with some ghastly disease, nor were gluttons devoured by giant worms. They simply died, the Yīqún ripping them to shreds.

Abandon all hope, indeed.

We kept moving, avoiding the trade routes and shipping lanes, steering clear of any system boasting a sizable population. But even those precautions weren’t enough; a few days into our passage, we found ourselves at an outpost on the backside of nowhere. It had been hit by the invaders as well, though thankfully, the machines had departed the system long before our arrival. If there were any survivors, they were obviously in hiding. We spent a few minutes recalibrating our navigational sensors and then quickly departed.

It was all too much; we’d moved beyond horrified by that point. Mostly, we were just numb. There’s only so much trauma the mind can take in before it shuts down those functions not geared towards survival. In a flesh-and-blood brain, for example, you’d see decreased activity in areas such as the amygdala, the hippocampus, and the prefrontal cortex. It’s Nature’s way of keeping you alive, focusing on the task at hand... but it comes at a price.

I may no longer possess a corporeal brain, but the clan had modeled my digital mind on the one I used to own. As for Raven, I don’t know where she stands on the spectrum anymore, whether she’s Man or Machine, but it was obvious she was just as affected as I was. Maybe more.

“What happens now?”

Raven’s question pulled me from my reverie. I’d been monitoring sensors and comms around the clock since the first attack, fervently thanking Mother Terra that I no longer needed sleep. I’d been on duty for one hundred and twenty-seven hours, and while I didn’t suffer from the limitations of flesh, even an Avatar eventually needs rest. I was using more and more resources to stay on task, and while we currently had them to spare, existential dread had been gnawing at me since day one. Did I risk powering down for a while to recharge, trusting Raven to mind the store, or did I play the hero and stay ever vigilant, knowing that eventually, I’d hit a wall. I was already seeing delayed reaction times and degradation in my higher functions, and that would only get worse with time. The smart move would be to let her take her over while I rested, but I just… couldn’t.

I’m not sure why.

I spent a moment focusing my attention before answering her question. “I don’t know,” I said at last. “Maybe the Alliance will give us a chance, buy us some time, but…”

My voice trailed off into silence as I finally admitted the truth. “But… the last time they struck, two centuries back, they wrecked a hell of a lot of havoc while the Eleexx developed their secret weapon. It took months for them to test and develop it before getting it to where it was most needed. If Elder Brother truly made them immune…” I took a deep breath. “... then all bets are off.”

Raven looked on the verge of tears. I didn’t blame her. “Can we defeat them?” she asked plaintively.

I shrugged. “Maybe… hopefully,” I answered. “A lot will depend on what the Troika decides. Last time, they recognized the need for unity. It’s why they created the first Alliance. Now?” I shook my head. “They might decide to eliminate a few troublemakers before turning their attention to the Yīqún, and if that happens, then that’s it. We’re finished.” Judging by her expression, I must have looked as bleak as she did.

“They couldn’t be that stupid!” she all but shouted. “I may hate the Troika… we all do... but right now we can’t afford any distractions to the real threat. They have to understand that!”

“I’ll tell you what they understand,” I said calmly, far more composed than I actually felt. “They understand that right now, we’re vulnerable. If they think, even for a second, they can pull off an attack, hit us when we’re at our weakest, they will.”

“Then they’re fools,” she all but spit out. “Maybe we should hit them first.”

“Not two seconds ago you were pleading for unity,” I said, exasperated, “and now you want to launch a preemptive strike against the Troika? You can’t have it both ways, Raven. Either we’re all in this together, or it’s every man for himself. Banding together, we have a chance against the Yīqún. A slim one, but still a chance. But if we try to beat the Troika at their own game, everybody loses.” I shook my head. “I don’t like the idea of swallowing that any more than you do, but we have to if we’re to survive.”

Raven stared at me, caught between incredulity and outright disgust. “How can you sit there and say we just have to accept it?” she demanded.

I sighed, suddenly feeling every one of my years. “Because I’m a Terran,” I said, “it’s what we do. For two hundred years now, it’s how we’ve endured, despite everything we’ve suffered.”

My revelation rocked her back on her heels. She cocked her head, studying me, before finally giving a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know whether to admire you or pity you,” she said at last.

I knew she didn’t mean it, but her barb struck home, regardless. “Don’t pity us, don’t you dare pity us,” I snarled, taking her aback. “Despite everything, we’re still here, still fighting,” I growled, “so you can take your pity and shove it right up your…”

My rant came to a screeching halt as she shrank back from me. I guess you can add frayed nerves to my symptoms. “Sorry,” I mumbled, “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just…” I sighed once more. “We’re kind of sensitive to that. We may not have much… but we still have our pride. Sometimes, it’s the only thing that keeps us going.”

“I see,” she said. We sat in silence, each lost in our own thoughts before she spoke once more. “Every time I think I’ve got a handle on you… on humans… you still somehow manage to astound me.” She shook her head in wry amusement. “How is that?”

I had to grin. “It’s kind of our superpower,” I chuckled.

We shared a brief laugh at that before reality settled back in. “All right then,” Raven said, “where do we go from here?”

“We still need to brief Chris,” I answered, ignoring the sour face she made at the mention of my clan leader. “We know who’s behind the Yīqún’s reappearance, their motives, where they got the source code from, and how the Eleexx and Tu’udh’hizh’ak are both involved. I doubt anyone else has the information we do, and that intelligence could mean the difference between defeat and victory in the battle ahead.”

Raven looked away. “Can’t we just transmit the data electronically?” she peeved. “My position hasn’t changed; I don’t want to go anywhere near your ‘friend’.” She sniffed derisively at the very notion.

An odd thought crossed my mind for the first time. Could Raven actually be jealous of Chris? It was ridiculous, of course, Chris and I were just friends. Old friends, certainly, I’d even call us close. Or at least we were, prior to our last meeting. I hoped we could patch things up between us, and the information I was bringing would go a long way to do that, or at least that’s what I hoped. But still… Raven, envious of our friendship? Did she see Chris as some sort of rival?

I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“We can’t transmit the data,” I said carefully, mulling over my observation. “For one, relaying anything when the Yīqún are in the vicinity is just too dangerous.” I grimaced at the thought. “Trust me on this; I learned that lesson the hard way, during my mission to Earth. Electronic broadcasts of any sort draw them in like flies.”

“Then drop a buoy, and program it for a delayed activation,” she suggested, a bit more strenuously than I think she realized. “That way we’ll be out of range when it goes live.”

“We’re not dropping a buoy,” I snapped. “For one, it’s still risky, even if we are at a distance. And two... what if it doesn’t work, or worse, the data gets intercepted?” I shook my head. “I’m not leaving something this important to chance. We’re holding on to that information until I can place it in Chris’ hands, personally.” I gave her a hard look. “Don’t push me on this, Raven,” I warned, “because I’m not willing to budge. Not with the fate of the galaxy at stake.”

Her nostrils flared as she considered her response. “Then perhaps we should part ways here,” she said evenly. “Going to her means putting myself in danger, and I won’t do that. I’m not going to let your clan mates murder me because they think I’m a threat.”

“That’s your decision,” I told her, struggling to keep the emotion from my voice, “but I’ll be honest; I think it’s a mistake. Being on your own means having no one to speak on your behalf or intercede if you’re in trouble. On your own is a dangerous place to be. Believe me… I know.” I winced at a transient thought and looked away.

The life of a Data Retrieval Specialist can be precarious, given the nature of our assignments. Too often I’d been the one with my ass unguarded, backed into a corner with nowhere to run. It’s not a pleasant sensation, let me tell you. I knew exactly what she was risking if she struck out on her own, and she didn’t. Not really. But even as I readied my response, I knew there was another, deeper reason, one that until this very moment I’d been unwilling to voice, even to myself.

I didn’t want her to leave.

Crazy, right? I tried to kill her, not so long ago, but as I considered it, I realized that the last thing in the universe I wanted was to lose her. I didn’t care she was a simulacrum, or whatever the hell she was now. I just cared about her. I’d put my life on the line to save her, and if need be, I’d do it again.

It also occurred to me I hadn’t told her that.

I started to speak, to tell her how I felt, but the words just caught in my throat. I sat there like a tongue-tied idiot, with Raven staring at me like I’d just had a stroke. I mean, how do you even say that?

So instead I rose, closed the distance between us, and kissed her.

… words are overrated.

Sometime later, we broke the kiss, gazing into each other’s eyes. “Took you long enough,” she murmured. “I was starting to think you’d never pull your head out.”

What could I say? She was right. So I laughed instead. We both did, snuggling in close together. “Whatever happens, I promise to protect you,” I told her, “but…”

“... but you’re still going back,” she finished for me. Our eyes met for a moment, struggling to find purchase. “I know. I’ve always known.” Raven shivered. “I don’t want to die,” she whispered. “Not now, not when I’m just learning what it means to live.”

“You won’t,” I vowed. “Anyone coming after you will have to go through me to do it.”

She smiled, but it was a sad, melancholy smile. “That’s sweet,” she said gently, “but you’re only one man. If your clan, your species, decides I’m a liability?” She shrugged helplessly. “You won’t be able to stop them.”

I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen to me,” I said with sudden passion, “I will keep you safe. Maybe it means hiding for a while,” I told her, thinking out loud, all too aware of her visceral reaction to that suggestion, “or even leaving my clan and making our own way. There’s no way I’m letting them take you.” I closed my eyes and bowed my head. “But I have to do this one, final task. I have to.”

Raven pressed her head against mine. “All right then,” she said softly, “then we’ll do it together.”

And just like that… we’d made our choice. Her and me, against the whole damn universe.

The universe didn’t stand a chance.