1:1:8 Context (Part 2)

“It is now.” Lore lifted their hands, letting their shackles fall to the floor. One of their arms was considerably thinner than the other. It was also considerably less tanned than the rest of their body. With a visceral pull, they removed what looked like their entire right arm, however underneath was a second, smaller arm, Breacher still attached. “It’s been a pleasure serving with some of you… Actually, it really hasn’t. Bye!” They shouted as they slammed their hand through their Breacher, disappearing in a flash of white light.

The next memory started immediately. They were somewhere they recognised but couldn’t remember where they had seen it before. Horns and buzzers blared as they found themselves in the middle of a road, blocking traffic from either side. They weren’t on Earth; the gravity was too strong. Lore watched as their past self hurried to the curb. The doppelganger appeared beside them.
“Rigel three.” It smiled. “Last free ‘Civilised’ bastion of alien society this side of the milky way. The Scilla system is one of the few systems our lot couldn’t conquer or convince to go human.”
“What’s so special about it?”
The doppelganger pointed to the sky. It was the middle of the day but space, the stars and several moons above were clearly visible. Lingering above the pale green and the clouds. Three planets sat above them, looking down at the people crawling across their sibling’s surface. “The star in this planet’s solar system, Scilla, has a core of active Tempora. Not only does it make it nearly impossible to get an accurate scan of the system but, Breaching in and out is a pain. To Breach from a planet outside of the system to one within requires planning and careful consideration. You were lucky to just land in the middle of the road.”
“So, no Breaching in or out. What stopped us then? Breaching is useful but we could still get our ships in.”
“And what do all Long-Range human Warships have at their core?” It was beginning to grow a smug look.
“Tempora.”
“Exactly. The Tempora cores of your first invasion fleet were ripped through the hull and drawn towards the sun. The whole sector was labelled a no stopping zone but the force isn’t strong enough to attract the core from a ship moving at faster than light speeds so, it’s safe to fly through.” The Doppelganger resumed the memory.

It looked like Earth. Apart from the sky, it would have fooled anyone. The buildings, the road lay out, even the vehicles, all inspired by Earth. The inspiration plainly only came from one source, America in the sixties. There were obvious changes, the cars, while looking the part would have terrified a human of the period with their levitation and seatbelts and the buildings cladding and brickwork were merely facades to cover up the generic prefab textures underneath. Lore couldn’t deny that the aesthetic, while not their favourite, certainly made Rigel three a lot more homely. It also had another unintended benefit; with it looking so much like Earth, the non-human looking aliens stuck out like sore thumbs despite being the majority. This, in turn made it easier to spot the other humans or at least human looking species. That’s when they saw her. Walking outside a fabrication shop that was made up to look like a fast food restaurant, a familiar beauty. Her skin was a sickly pale white, nearly grey, contrasting her well organised yet chaotic bun of brown hair. She walked with the confidence of someone who was being followed, false. She maintained the illusion well, until she saw Lore and the chaos they were causing in the middle of the road. Their eyes met and after a blink, she had said goodbye and vanished. They tried to follow her the best they could but to no avail. They wandered the town square, complete with fountain and fake grass, wondering where she could have gone and who she reminded them of. Lore knew who their past self was chasing and that became abundantly clear as the chase drew to a sudden close. Turning a corner to leave the square, they collided with her. She seemed unaffected until she got a proper look at their face. She dropped to the floor, bending on one knee before bolting up to stand with them.
“Are you alright?” Lore held out their left hand.
“Force of habit.” She spoke quietly and took their hand. She had no idea what to do with it.
There was a pause longer than either of them could have ever wanted before Lore clicked their fingers. “That’s where I remember you from.” They smiled. “For a planet with two suns, so many of you are too bloody pale.” Char lunged at them and covered their mouth.
“That’s enough I think.” She lowered her other hand to her side and grabbed at the pistol in her armpit. “What does The Protectorate want now Inquisitor?”
Lore loosened themselves. “Nothing. I dare say they hate me more than you at the moment.” They slowly raised their Breacher and displayed the alert. Their face appeared above a list of their various crimes. “I know what you probably think but I would never.”
She stayed her hand and scanned the poster. Her eyes narrowed before she slowly lessened her grip. “Fine, but why were you chasing me?”
“I thought I saw a Quatarrian. I know there aren’t too many of you left.” They bowed their head, “Sorry.”
She shook. “Come on then.” She was still holding their hand as she led them down the alley and towards a more suburban area. Rows and rows of identical prefab bungalows. Lore followed themselves until they reached a home with a familiar view.

“So, the hero of the three year month just happens to find me… Sounds suspicious.”
“I wasn’t looking, I needed an out and Rigel seemed like the safest place.” They paused. “Well… Perhaps not the safest but certainly one of the few places The Protectorate can’t get to.” Char couldn’t disagree with their logic.
Time sped up as Lore watched themselves and Char run around the bungalow like small mammals on amphetamines. The doppelganger came in from the kitchen.
“The first few months were a little hit or miss. You and Char learning to live together, you trying to find a job and both of you tip toeing around the war. But things got better.” The bungalow had become a composite blur with months of redecorations, alterations and shadows of where they had stood overlapping one another but, night descended and with the warm kitchen lights lit, things came back into focus.
“I found this under the bathroom sink. Cleaned it out for you.” Lore extended a corrugated polymer tube towards Char.
Hastily, she snatched it. “I would lie to you but you know well enough what it is.”
“I do. Although, I’ve never seen one in that good condition.” Lore poured themselves a drink. “Thing looks brand new. Even Luscillus couldn’t keep theirs looking like that and they virtually cleaned their pistol after every shot.”
Char shook her head, her cheeks were starting to redden. She took a deep swig from her glass; she found it hard to swallow. “I’m not sure how much you knew about your enemy before you joined our war but, some of the Quatarri weren’t as prepared for the fighting.” She took another drink. “By the time the three year month came around, nearly fifty two percent of our troops were Gorgen-Wehrtiaid.”
“Gorgen-Wehrtiaid?” Lore nearly tripped over the Quatarrian mouthful but stuck the pronunciation.
“Forced conscript. If you were old enough to get the implant then you were old enough to use it. Ex-Teachers, Bakers and Doctors were forced onto the battlefield. It’s how I got there.”
“I didn’t know.” Lore’s heart began to race.
“No one did. It was kept in the East and died with the East.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“I suppose I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t.” She sighed, “my mum was pulled out of retirement when the West started taking back their land. Few months later, I’m in the middle of surgery and she shows up and drags me to the nearest camp to get ready to ship out to Tarrquu.” Char handed Lore her pistol before she lifted her shirt to reveal her implant. “Took three ‘medics’ and my mum to hold me down to put that in.” She rubbed around the edges. “She forced that pistol in my hand, strapped a first aid kit to my belt and threw me on a shuttle. I used it once.” Lore admired the pistol. It was almost nothing like the ones the West had been using. Apart from the fact that it had a barrel, a rejuvenation tube and a trigger, it bore no resemblance. It was about twice as wide and appeared to have more than one capacitor, it also lacked a safety switch. “One of the men under my care’s rifles melted; the capacitors overcharged. Thankfully, they weren’t hurt but they still needed a new weapon kit. The armoury was locked so I sorted it out with the only key I had to hand.”
“If Quatarrians are nearly immortal, why did they need a field medic?” Lore handed back the gun. As Char stretched out her right arm to take it, her sleeve rode up slightly revealing two, perfectly round, puncture scars about two centimetres from her wrist.
“Have you ever had a splinter?”
“Yeah. Hurt like hel.”
“Well, imagine the splinter is about this big,” she gestured with her hands, miming an object around ten centimetres wide, “stuck in your leg and you physically can’t bleed out from it.” Lore nodded. “That’s why we needed field medics.”
Lore nodded, satisfied with the response. They had one last question but they didn’t know how to phrase it. Several iterations of the conversation played out in their head all at once until they landed on the simplest answer, bluntly asking. “I thought Quatarrian’s couldn’t scar so, what happened to your wrist?” Char was taken aback. She wrapped her arm across her back before hesitantly returning it to her front.
“I’ll show you what happened but… Not yet.” She lifted her sleeve revealing that she was hiding not two but five identical puncture marks. They were perfectly aligned and precisely distanced from one another. When she rotated her arm, the fifth became visible. A slight scarred pit sat on the train track into her heart, appearing to block the vein. She lowered her sleeve and made a fist. She held it to Lore’s face and tapped between the first and second knuckle then the third and fourth knuckle. Running between them, two thin white lines of damaged skin. “I’ve shown you mine, you got any?”
“Strangely enough,” Lore started as they removed their shirt and bra, “I’ve actually not got any from the war. I managed to pull through quite well in that regard. Just superficial damage to me and repairable damage to my armour. But Pre-war, that was a different matter.” With a quick glance, Char could count eleven scars just on their torsos and upper arms. “When I was twelve, The Protectorate gave us a talk on mental health and keeping ourselves active. At that point, I had only ever had a non-academic relationship with one person so mental health wise, we were in the toilet.”
“Why would you be in the toilet?”
“Figure of speech.” Lore continued. “I hadn’t ever considered using pain and self-harm to make myself feel better, and at the start, it’s counterintuitive nature confused me but as soon as I put that knife to my wrist, I just felt this release I hadn’t felt before.” They ran their finger along a pair of small white stripes on their upper forearm. “Few months later, Crait and I broke up for the first time. They went off with tears in their eyes and I just sat there feeling completely indifferent to everything.” They pointed to the raised mark on their left breast. “I took my knife and ran it over my heart. I hadn’t felt anything when they broke up with me but then, I did. I did the same thing every night for nearly a month; I took my knife out of my bag and re-opened that wound every night before bed. At the end of the month, Crait was fine with the break up so I stopped.” They stroked their chest. “This one here is from when I got mad and nearly broke an important piece of medical equipment.” They pointed to a recessed strike on their right collar bone. “And these three, these three helped me through a lot along with this one.” They ran three fingers across the inside of their elbow and one along the white mark on their lip. “I’ve always had problems with mirrors. Whenever I see myself, I don’t see myself. There’s someone in the mirror but they aren’t quite me. After I did my elbow, it got sort of better for some reason. Then I did my lip. Best decision I’ve made so far. The day I did it, I saw a glimpse of myself. Not someone who looked a little like me, me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be. I did it to myself.” Lore answered seriously. “Oh, you meant in more of a commiseration slash condolences sort of way…” They smiled. “Thanks.”
Char was replaced with Lore’s doppelganger. “Char is trying to pull you from the cube so I will speed through the rest: You and Char work together on bringing Quatarr back, she decides to propose, you nearly get arrested after you have an argument on Terra Three then, Two months after that, you get the grand idea to hit a few human run, alien planets before enacting your plan on Quatarr. Don’t worry, even though you haven’t re-lived those memories in here, they’ll be there once you leave. TERMINATING REPLAY.” The doppelganger screeched.

Lore woke up in the bathtub, soaked in their own watery vomit and being shaken by Char rather violently.
“You still alive?” She seemed worried. “Your Breacher said you were experiencing a mild cardiac event. Then a major cardiac event then total cardiac failure.”
Lore finally opened their eyes. Their vision was blurry and everywhere was too bright. Char’s words had cut like daggers in their ears and it felt as though their mouth had been sewn shut and their voice box stolen. Then came the sinking feeling like a snake up their throat. They pushed Char away as it pushed its way out of their mouth. More sick was added to the collection and the tub continued to fill with warm, viscous water. “I’m alive.” They croaked.
“Right… Well, when you’ve finished you can come back to the living room and we can get going. I’ve done all of the work now it’s time to move on to the next stage of the plan.”
“I’m covered in sick, my throat is drier than a desert and my teeth are tingling. Can we sort those things first?”
“I suppose. There’s a new toothbrush in the mirror, you’re already in the bath but to turn on the shower just pull that cord and push the button on the unit and new clothes can be found in the room opposite. Now, time to get up, I’ve nearly found Silus.”
Lore was about to say something when their head suddenly dropped, striking the side of the bath and alerting Char to the change in plans. The drop and subsequent stop had roused them but not for long. They woke with a start, bolting from their reclined position to an upright one.
“Right, let’s get you looked at then. Come on, out of the bath, don’t mind the sick, I can clean it up later.” Char spoke softly and with sincere care but as they took their first step out of the tub, they froze; every muscle in their body tensed as one. “Well, pupils are reacting well and you’re mobile and balanced so that’s good. Most people can’t handle having seven plus years’ worth of memories forced into their head in the space of an hour but then again, you were never most people.” She smiled but that quickly faded as she realised they had started moving again. She moved forward to wrap herself around them but it was too late.
They weren’t sure whether they lost consciousness before the fall or upon impact but either way, they ended up back in the tub, laying down with their Breacher alerting those around them to a mild cardiac event. Beginnings.