The only disappointing part was not being able to personally watch the extermination of that reprehensible race. He'd have to be content with images taken by the microcameras installed on Ikali.
While there were marked differences between his artificial Virus and actual biological ones, there were certain similarities: his had no genetic material and didn't necessarily need to exploit the biochemical apparatus of the target's cells; it was also able to specifically recognize certain molecules expressed only by Ikalian cells, then get inside of the cells and damage them.
The molecular rotors with which Quarkban's creation was designed were able to feed themselves using the most diverse forms of energy, from chemical to electromagnetic. Their ability to self-assemble and destroy cells was so quick that they could dismember the infected person in a few tens of minutes. It was far more aggressive and caused more devastation to the body than it had in tests. The Prrism'aarth had planned every detail very carefully, in an ardent desire to leave no means of escape.
Grons'th, who was the T'anjakhaal's servant for the seventy fourth floor, was the first Ikalian to be infected. If in the first minutes of discomfort, he might've thought he had caught some seasonal bug with a low fever, he shortly realized that it was something much more serious and intolerable. He began to feel a sharp pain in his back, which quickly spread throughout his body. He felt like his head was going to explode and his breathing became increasingly more labored. He tried to call for help, but he began gagging on his own vomit, which not only stopped him from speaking but nearly suffocated him. As soon as he had thrown up the contents of his stomach, he felt a warm liquid trickling down his face. It was blood. Coming from his ears, mouth and nose. Even from his eyeballs. It was all happening too quickly for him to understand. There was only pain and suffering. He looked around to try to find relief, but saw nothing. His corneas were detached and his optic nerves had collapsed. He heard bloodcurdling screams. Evidently, he wasn't the only one suffering this way. Then he felt a stabbing sensation in his left hand. Touching it with his right, he felt the skin coming and his fingers sinking into the purulent flesh. He tried to scream, but there was nothing left of his vocal cords. There was nothing left of him. He collapsed on the ground, dead and deformed.
Thousands of horrible screams echoed throughout the imperial palace, as far as Saarin's quarters. The emperor, with two of his most faithful advisors, was eating blue grape-nuts and patting himself on the back for the Zorth'jun's anticipated departure.
Then the otherworldly screams shook their complacency.
“Did you hear it too?” one of his advisers asked.
“Of course. I'm not deaf,” the emperor replied.
The entire T'anjakhaal was vibrating, shaken by desperate screams.
What the hell is happening? he thought.
One of the imperial guards entered the room without announcing himself. Saarin and his advisers were horrified at the sight: the Ikalian's face was swollen and other visible body parts were festering. It looked as though he'd been hit by a burst of microwaves.
The guard stumbled towards the emperor. “W... we... are...” he tried to say, but couldn't finish.
“Stop right there!” Saarin ordered, fearing that the Ikalian was going to touch him.
Beyond the open door was utter pandemonium.
The emperor went past the guard who had collapsed on the ground. His advisers followed him cautiously. They saw dead and dying Ikalians, who appeared to have been doused with some super-acid. They saw shapeless beings, screaming and fighting against an invisible enemy that was consuming them from the inside. If it had been the pre-imperial era, Saarin would've believed it was the work of astral demons. This had to be a terrorist attack of unprecedented proportion. For the first time in history, someone had managed to penetrate the T'anjakhaal on a major scale. If he got out of this alive, the emperor thought, he would find and torture everyone responsible, making an example of them. But, unfortunately for him and his people, there was no salvation. No one would survive. And when the taste of blood finally hit his taste buds, Saarin understood it all.
He knelt down, and for the first time in his life, he wept.
It didn't take long for the news about the end of the world to reach the ears at the top of the Mtjugiaankh.
“Who was the madman who started this epidemic?” the supervisor in charge of stemming the contagion asked, devastated and furious.
“We don't know!” his collaborators hastened to reply.
“By the galaxy! We must stop this virus immediately!”
The Ikalian technicians began tinkering with their quantum computers. Then they stopped and looked at each other.
“What?”
“It's not responding to commands.”
Some of those present failed to understand that the sensation they were feeling was the beginning of a heart attack or the first effects of the virus once it had escaped the confines of the imperial palace.
“We couldn't...” The supervisor looked around for options, but was soon interrupted by the most nefarious of judgments.
“We can't do anything!”
“Have you tried to contact Quarkban?”
“Yes! And we just received a communique from him.”
“What does it say?”
The technician, with a wave of his hand, moved the holographic screen until the holo impressed writing was visible:
For an entire civilization, the day of judgment had arrived.
19
Namiko looked at Sirio in dismay. She knew that he was serious: he wasn't the type of play those kinds of pranks. Now what should she do? She could see in his eyes that he was being sincere. And, contrary to all of Betty's and Mike's assertions, he seemed to be in control of himself. Even though she'd seen him for less than a minute, the voice, gestures and mannerisms were all his. The years that they had lived together and the love she felt for him would've told her if the slightest thing had been wrong. He appeared confused, but it was him; she was sure of it. There was only one problem: Sirio didn't remember who she was.
“Are you serious?” she asked him, with tears in her eyes.
“I... I don't know, I'm sorry...”
Attempting to interrupt the heart-rending scene, Betty came closer to them and invited them to come into the house.
“Hi, Mike,” said Sirio as soon as he saw the other.
“Hi.”
“Let's all sit down now,” Betty suggested, trying to get the situation under control.
“I... I can't believe that you...” Namiko whimpered.
“Wait!” the American exclaimed. “We don't even know what's happened to him. Let's give him some time and maybe he'll remember.”
“What's wrong with all of you?” the Italian asked, becoming increasingly more incredulous. “If this is a joke...”
“No!” Namiko screamed at him. “It's not a joke! Dammit!”
Sirio winced. She was obviously serious. Her face was all red and bathed in tears. Maybe she was right. He needed to listen to her and the others and take stock of the situation. After all, a lot of incredible things had happened to him in the past few days.
“Please,” the Italian began, “be patient. A lot of things have happened to me recently that I can't explain. Not the least of which,” he said, looking back at Namiko. “I hope you can help me.”
“Certainly! That's why we're here,” Mike replied, feeling heartened by hearing rational discourse. He was certainly a far cry from the Sirio they had seen at Ingrid's house.
“Try to explain it to him,” Betty urged.
Namiko sighed deeply and tried to calm down. At least, Sirio wanted to work with them. She couldn't just throw away the magnificent moments they had had together. Those must still be stored in some little corner in the recesses of his brain.
“A few days ago, I woke up at home and realized that I had had some sort of blackout.”
“What
do you mean?” Mike asked.
“Wait. I'll tell you.” Sirio paused for a moment, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his head. “I don't know exactly what was happening, but I blacked out or something. When I came to, I found Ingrid on the ground. I couldn't remember her name at the time. I didn't know who she was.”
The beginning of the story sounded like good news to everyone: if he had finally remembered Ingrid, maybe he'd get his memory of Namiko back too.
“When she came to, she was... possessed. I don’t know. It’s difficult to explain, but possessed seems the most appropriate term. Then she got up and raced out of the house... and I haven't seen her since.”
“Then what did you do?” Betty asked.
“I looked for her and waited for her at home. Actually, I laid down on the sofa first. I was really destroyed. I felt awful. I spent the night in bed. The next day, I tried to remember some of the details; but, to tell you the truth, a lot of it's still missing in my head. I don't even remember what type of relationship Ingrid and I had. I have some memories, but...” Seeing Namiko blanch, he changed the subject. At this point, it was clear that, among those, there had to have been something important. It didn’t seem right to offend her and ruin a relationship of which he, at the moment, was completely unaware.
“But,” he began again, “I can't even tell you how I arrived in Australia or exactly what I've been doing these past few months. I feel like I've had a blow to the head. I don't know if I'm explaining myself very well... But I'm fine now, really.”
“And Ingrid? Have you continued to search for her?”
“I thought about reporting her disappearance but decided against it.”
“Why?” Namiko asked.
“The gaps in my memory would've aroused suspicion. When I remembered Tylor's address, I decided to come here. He would certainly be able to advise me. By the way, where is her?”
“He...” Betty replied anguished. “You see, he had an accident.”
“I hope it was nothing serious.”
“To tell the truth, it was. But...” She was too emotional and had to stop mid-sentence.
“But he survived!” Mike concluded on Betty's behalf.
Sirio eyes the American. He had just realized that the other was seated in a wheelchair. It was crazy!
“Were you together?” he asked Mike.
“Yes. But I can tell you now that I will be able to walk again. I didn't suffer any serious damage to my spinal column.”
“Oh, that's lucky. Did you see that?”
“What?” they all asked in chorus.
“Mike is in a wheelchair and I just noticed it now. I'm not right in the head; that's the truth,” he uttered, leaning forward with his head in his hands.
“Something happened to you, but you're recovering. That's obvious!” Mike said to comfort him.
Namiko thought that the American was pulling the wool over his eyes. But his speech sounded normal and she could only hope. She had her Sirio back. She couldn't think negatively.
“Do you remember when you had your...” Betty tried to recall the word Sirio had used, “blackout?”
“It was a few days ago, but I don't remember exactly when.”
“It was at night, right?”
“Yes. Shortly after I regained consciousness, I saw the digital clock on the table. It said twenty thirty. I remember that well. Probably because there are so few clocks on the twenty four hour system.”
“So you were unconscious for a little over thirty minutes!” Betty said with all the certainty in the world.
“How did you know that?”
“At eight twenty seven post-meridian, the Ikalian ship was destroyed. You know that, right?”
“The newscasts are full of it.”
“Think, when did you hear the news about it for the first time?”
“I... I think...”
“Could you have had your accident the same day?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“So there's no doubt.”
“I don't understand. Please explain,” Sirio urged. Even Mike and Namiko seemed to have missed the point.
“Mike and I were under the belief that your mind was being influenced, if not controlled entirely, by the Ikalians, and that Ingrid was the means.”
Sirio just sat there in silence. He didn’t know what to say. It seemed like a highly improbable hypothesis, and yet somehow believable. That was the only way that things made sense. After all, he had been aboard an alien ship, which he remembered perfectly, so practically any hypothesis seemed plausible to him.
“When the ship was destroyed,” Betty continued, “the link between you and Ingrid was broken. I don't know how, but that must be it.”
“Yes, that must be it” Sirio said, convinced.
Even Mike and Namiko agreed with her theory.
“Who knows how many other humans...” the American then said. “They tried to get me too.”
“To control your mind?” the Italian asked.
“Yes, but I fled in time. That's why I'm here. I came to warn you.”
“Why did they do it?”
“We may never know for sure, but I suppose that they wanted to direct the thinking of certain individuals, to keep everything under control.”
“We think that even the accident was caused by them,” said Betty.
“You think so? What were the dynamics of the accident?”
By that time, Namiko had stopped listening. They were talking about everything, except her, or more specifically, except the two of them; about what was happening between Sirio and her. Was it possible that they didn’t understand? Or perhaps they did. She wouldn't have known how to behave either, in their shoes. In any case, she couldn't stand to see Sirio so disinterested in her. She had traveled trillions of kilometers in the hope of embracing him once again. It was what had kept her going. And it had happened, but he didn’t remember anything. He recalled fragments of everything, but nothing about her. What had those damned creatures done to him? To what spell had he fallen victim? It was impossible to know. She began to cry, ultimately sobbing.
“Namiko,” Mike said.
“I'm sorry,” she replied, distraught. Then she jumped up and ran toward the exit of the house.
Betty went after her.
It was a short walk. The Japanese woman was crouched in the front yard. Betty caught up to her.
“I'm sorry, I...” Namiko tried to explain but she was cut off by her own sobbing.
“Shhh.” Betty put her arms gently around the woman, trying to reassure her. “I know, I know... I know how you're feeling. You need to have faith. I was afraid of losing someone too, Tylor, but he's still with us. Give him some time and he'll remember everything.”
“And... and if... if it doesn't happen?”
“Well, then you'll make him fall in love with you all over again.”
The response surprised her. She was immediately afraid that she didn’t have the strength or the ability to do that. But she didn't have time to think about it much as Betty then proposed: “Listen, let's go back in now. You can relax for a moment and then we'll go see Tylor. All together. What do you say?”
Namiko's first thought was to decline. She didn't want to see Tylor in such a sad state. It was all too much for one day. Then she saw the other woman's hopeful eyes and knew that she could never say "no" to her.
“It'll be good for Sirio. It's very probable that seeing his friend will evoke other memories. We don't know what they did, but you're too important to him. I saw how much he suffered when he lost you to the stars. He was desperate. I've never seen a man that was so in love. You'll see: everything will work itself out.”
“All right,” Namiko replied with a smile. “I want to believe you!” Then she gave the other woman a big hug.
“Thank you, Betty. Thank you so much.”
20
He had succeeded in causing the destruction of the most advanced civilization in the galaxy
, with the touch of a finger; remotely breaking into their video holo surveillance had been child's play. Finally, for the first time in his life, he saw suffering in an Ikalian's eyes. Moving from one microcamera to another, he watched hundreds of purple-skins being literally consumed before his virtual eyes. The images were violent and gruesome, going beyond his cruelest fantasies. Yet Quarkban, watching Ikalian children die with heartrending screams, didn't feel any type of torment. He had no ethical dilemmas. It was as if he was eradicating a tumor, the worst of evils. He had conquered a damnation that had been hurting his people for millennia. But he wasn't indifferent, on the contrary. He had a definite feeling: pleasure.
Now that the carnage had been going on for many hours, all that remained was to transmit those images via galaxyvision, along with a brief statement that he had prepared days ago.
The reptilian's tongue began to move convulsively, gripped by a celebratory hysteria. In a few minutes everything Pristh had known, and his compatriots had rebelled against, would be gone. And the few invaders on the planet would be humiliated and driven away forever. There would be no retribution because the empire was dying. This was a great day, which every Prrism'aarth had dreamed of, for over a hundred generations. The day of freedom, in which he would become the hero of dozens of worlds and nothing would ever be the same again. Then he put the message into the communications network, and, in an instant, it spread throughout Pristh. He didn't move it from there. Why should he? He was in a secret place, and after all the pandemonium had been unleashed, his colleagues would soon get together to congratulate him and rejoice.
In what would be remembered as a brief delay, he turned his attention back to the images coming from Ikali. He studied every detail, so as not to miss anything. He wanted to watch as many Ikalians as possible. He wanted to see them suffer in terrible agony, before they all died. Frantically shifting between different frequencies, he noticed a chilling detail. He stopped the video and replayed it. When he saw it again, he knew that he wasn't hallucinating. He expanded one of the images and nearly had a heart attack.