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[Cryoverse] The Last Precursor 036: Umi's Ultimatum

The Last Precursor is an HFY-exclusive web-serial which focuses on the exploits of the last living human amidst a galaxy of unknown aliens. With his species all but extinct and now only known as the ancient Precursors, how will Admiral José Rodriguez survive in this hostile universe? Make sure to read the earlier chapters first if you missed them!
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Previous Part
Part 001
Megla, Soren, and several Kessu stand next to a hospital bed, one with suppressive straps attached to some twenty different positions on its frame. These straps link to restraints which wrap around Admiral Rodriguez's limbs and body, firmly holding him in place atop the bed's thin mattress.
The Terran lays motionless, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. His eyes move in circles beneath his eyelids while he experiences some unknown, hopefully pleasant dream.
Megla stands closest to him. Her claw rests on the edge of his bed, but she hangs her head, a look of sadness in her eyes.
"The Admiral. He called me a monster."
The yellow-scaled Kraktol stares at the floor, her gaze despondent. She recalls the moments before she passed out, when the Admiral screamed in her ear and hurled vicious epithets at her.
Soren places a claw on her sister's shoulder. "You can't fault him, sister. He didn't mean it. The Admiral was merely... confused. He didn't recognize you, and only saw you as a threat."
Across the hospital bed, the holo-doctor, Penelope, stands by herself, nodding along to Soren's words. "Admiral Rodriguez lost all of his memories, up until the point he first left the stasis capsule. He has forgotten every event from the past six months. He has forgotten that all of his fellow crew perished. He has even forgotten about the Kessu, the Kraktol, and the demons on Tarus II."
"I didn't realize he'd lose... everything..." Megla says, numbly. "Didn't you say he would survive the cloning process without any ill effects?"
"No," Penelope answers, shaking her head. "I stated that there was a small chance he might. Infinitesimal. Less than one percent. In terms of losing his memories, that was virtually assured. You seem to have have assumed the best case scenario in a moment of hopefulness. Statistically, in the recorded instances one of Ramma's Chosen was brought back via cloning, they lost all of their memories up to the point of their last scheduled brain-backup. In the Admiral's case, his last backup was saved inside his stasis-capsule."
"Why didn't you make other backups in the last six months?" Soren asks. "Surely, during the operation to restore the Admiral's body after he emerged from his stasis capsule..."
"We had many extenuating circumstances," Penelope says, glancing at the foot of the bed, where the wide-eyed Kessu stand. "Backing up a Terran's memories always causes some level of trauma to their cerebral cortex. It is not a mere brain-scan, but an invasive procedure which Ramma's Chosen typically undergo only once every few years, or directly before a Red-Level mission. The Kessu rescue on Tarus II was nowhere near that level, since we did not know of the demons' existences. Had we backed up the Admiral's memories at the moment of his surgery, the likelihood of his death on the operation table would have tripled."
Penelope continues. "Additionally, the Bloodbearer had yet to be repaired. We were operating with limited processing cores from Umi's central matrix. Undertaking a CPU-intensive operation with a damaged mainframe is simply asking for disaster."
Soren closes her eyes.
Seeing the looks of loss on everyone's faces, Penelope's emotional-adaptation programming activates. She stands silently for a few moments while processing the room's atmosphere, before smiling cheerfully.
"Do not worry! The Admiral is alive. Since this is the case, I will continue rehabilitating him to the best of my ability. You should not take the words he spoke earlier to heart. He was not in his right state of mind."
Megla raises her head. She looks at the holo-doctor meaningfully. "Are you sure about that? Admiral Rodriguez is one of Ramma's Chosen. He has mentioned on a few occasions that he was part of a militant, religious faction among his people. He was, in essence, a Terran supremacist. Who's to say he hasn't always secretly felt that way about me? Perhaps the memory loss brought out his true feelings."
"Sister..." Soren says, opening her long, crocodile-mouth to retort. It takes her a few attempts before she can speak. "He... the Admiral... I know his attachments to us weren't fake. You have to give him time to adapt."
"I shouldn't have come here," Megla says. "If I had just listened, and hadn't come barging in, hoping to see the Admiral right after he woke up, he wouldn't have fallen into such dire straits. It's all my fault."
While the yellow-scaled Kraktol mutters to herself dispiritedly, Little Lele walks over and climbs the edge of the bed, pulling herself up to the Admiral's legs. She eyeballs the straps holding him in place and frowns. "Hey, what's up with these ropes? Why are you guys chaining Big Baldy like a prisoner? He didn't mean to hurt anyone!"
Penelope's smile stays plastered to her face like a piece of glue. "The restraints are for the Admiral's sake, not ours. I need to hold him in place so that he won't hurt himself when he wakes up. He's extremely confused and frightened. Ramma's Chosen do not easily break when it comes to their emotional stability, but undergoing such a violent and abrupt change in circumstances could cause anyone to doubt reality. The Admiral did what he could to rectify his situation. He assumed the Kraktol were mutants created by the Children of Ghül. He connected several pieces of information to form a scene in reality which fit to his expectations."
The holo-doctor continues. "Humans are hardy creatures. When placed inside a situation they've never encountered, their minds will often reconfigure themselves to accommodate their new reality. However, humans are often limited by their understanding of the world. Now that we have installed a cerebral chip inside the Admiral's brain, we can piece together the thoughts he underwent when he awoke from the cloning chamber."
"Since the Admiral had no way of knowing 100 million years had passed, his first assumption was that he was still in the old era, during the Terran pantheon. He then began to wonder why his best friend and half-brother of sorts, Private Nicholai Azaram, was not there to greet him. Given their innumerable experiences together, Admiral Rodriguez would find it immediately suspicious that his closest comrade was not there when he emerged from the cloning tube."
Lele nods along to the doctor's words. "I've never heard of Big Baldy's friend. Who was he? What was he like?"
"The Admiral has mentioned him in passing a few times," Soren says, her tone uncertain. "But even I'm not aware of the specifics."
"This vessel has long lost all its detailed records regarding ship personnel," Penelope says. "However, based upon the memories we've obtained from Admiral Rodriguez, we were able to partially recompile some of the crew and personnel lists, along with their relevant statuses and areas of expertise. Private Azaram was a powerful Terran soldier, one rated two half-ranks above Admiral Rodriguez in his combat simulation capabilities. This means that if José Rodriguez would be able to kill a Grade A+ enemy combatant solo, Private Azaram would have been able to kill a Grade S or S+ combatant by himself. In terms of seniority, Azaram was a higher-tier soldier."
Remembering their experiences with the Admiral in the holo-deck, Soren and Megla both sigh with admiration.
"Terrans were frightening monsters..." Megla says, smiling in spite of her melancholy. "I'm afraid the current universe wouldn't stand a chance against them if they were ever to revive themselves."
"Indeed," Penelope says, nodding. "In any case, returning to the previous line of questioning: Admiral Rodriguez concocted a deep and intricate scenario within seconds whereupon you, the Kraktol, were creatures created by the Children of Ghül. He assumed your existences were likely a secret, and thus that is why he had never heard of you. Given your resemblance to the crocodiles of the Terran era, it would be reasonable for him to assume such a thing. The final piece of evidence came when he heard you and I conversing with one another. Since he could not understand your words, he assumed you were threatening me for some reason, likely to extract knowledge he had regarding Ramma's secrets. After all, in the era from which he originated, inter-faction violence and espionage were a daily occurrence."
"That's nice to know, but what does all of this mean?" Soren asks. "How can you rehabilitate the Admiral now that we've thoroughly confused him, chained him to a bed, and made him think we're holding his comrades hostage?"
The whole room falls silent.
Penelope frowns. Her emotional data-lines cycle through multiple subroutines as she formulates a response.
"The current situation is far from ideal. Had Officer Brighteye not entered the room, I may have been able to slowly integrate the Admiral's past and present situations together through gentle prodding and explanation. However, now that the situation has reached this level, I need to expedite his coping process. I must reveal what has happened in a simple and honest manner. At this moment, any further deceptions will only harm the Admiral, making it extremely difficult for him to cope with reality. I believe his risk of suicide will elevate to an undesirable level if I mishandle his needs."
Soren frowns. "Should we leave you alone with the Admiral, then? He seems to like you. If our presences here will only startle and frighten him, then perhaps...?"
"Unfortunately, it is too late for us to avoid agitating the Admiral," Penelope replies. "He has seen too many things that contrast with his memories and grasp on reality. You might as well all stay here for when he awakens. The Kessu, in particular. Admiral Rodriguez has a special affection for cute, furry creatures, such as cats, dogs, and birds. Your presence here will help set his mind at ease."
Patriarch Nyoor blinks his huge, widened eyes. "Cats? Dogs? Birds? Mraaw! What are those?"
"They are, most likely, your biological ancestors," Penelope answers. "But that is a discussion for another time. The Bloodbearer's investigative routines are still working silently to determine the origins of the various species populating the Milky Way galaxy. Perhaps, in the near future, we may be able to unravel not only what happened to humanity, but why all of your species arose after their fall."
Megla shakes her head. "None of that matters now. All I care about is that the Admiral recovers from his trauma. I also hope he won't... hate me."
"Any hostility the Admiral feels toward you is simply a byproduct of his assumptions regarding your origins," Penelope responds. "Once he learns the Kraktol are not monsters created by the Children of Ghül, he will be able to treat you as ambassadors of a sentient species, along with the Kessu and any others we meet. He does not hate your appearance, but the associations you bring up in his mind regarding the experimental subjects the Children of Ghül once foisted upon civilized galactic society."
Soren cocks her head slightly. "Penelope, you keep mentioning the Children of Ghül. Even though they are long-dead, I would like to know more about them. Can you tell us any specifics?"
The doctor shakes her head. "I am afraid not, Officer Mudrose. The majority of information Umi's databanks once held has long since eroded over the past hundred million years. Anything we still know was either copied from the Admiral's memories, or is high-level information that only the Admiral himself may access; classified secrets. If you wish to know more, then you may ask Admiral Rodriguez once he recovers."
Soren frowns. "I don't need to know any specifics. Just general information. I don't even have a foggy idea of the different Terran factions from the Admiral's past. Can't you tell us anything at all?"
Penelope glances around the room. Most of the Kessu seem uninterested in this information, along with Megla, but Lele perks her ears up, excited to learn new information about 'Big Baldy.'
"Well, I suppose I can outline a few general bits of information for you. The Children of Ghül were an organization that focused on biological experimentation. Out of all the major Terran factions, we of Ramma's Chosen considered them the most heretical. They often experimented on live human subjects, most being unwilling participants. They created countless awful chimeras; creatures stitched together from differing organisms. For example, if the Children of Ghül still existed today, they might tear off the limbs of a Kraktol and sew them onto the body of a Kessu, all in the name of science."
Lele shrinks back in alarm, flattening her ears. "Eww, gross! I'd never want a pair of icky scale-arms! Yucky!"
Megla snorts derisively. "Kyargh! Stupid furball. It would be your great honor to possess any body part of a superior Kraktol."
Unperturbed by the interruption, Penelope continues. "According to the Admiral's memories, the Children of Ghül were an organization Ramma's Chosen clashed with on innumerable occasions. Despite their heretical ways, they produced many potent bio-weapons, including viral contagions, flesh-melting agents, and other such devices. Therefore, many developed militaries supported them in secret, making it impossible for Ramma's Chosen to exterminate them. Ramma's Chosen were never able to root out their headquarters, and even if we had, they could have simply moved their power base elsewhere, unbeknownst to us."
"They sounded like tricky little skeevers to kill," Soren says, waving her claws flippantly. "Oh, well. They perished to the annals of time, along with the rest of Terrankind. I suppose that's a comforting thought."
"Perhaps..." Penelope says, pursing her holographic lips. "But we have no method of confirming that all of Terrankind has perished. In the 50th Era, humanity inhabited seven separate galaxies. It is even possible that some stragglers may have traveled beyond the Local Cluster, to places more distant than we could ever visit in our lifetimes. Never underestimate a Terran's curiosity, for they will investigate anomalies as if their lives depend on it."
Soren nods. "Noted."
After Penelope finishes her explanation, several minutes pass. A half hour. An hour.
Soren comforts Megla, assuring her the Admiral didn't mean all the hateful things he said. The Kessu mill about at the foot of José's bed, meowing and trilling to one another while they worry about whether the Great Precursor will manage to make himself whole again.
As for Lele, she climbs onto José's stomach and curls up in a ball, falling fast asleep. Despite her high intelligence and attunement to technology, in the end, she's still only a kitten. Too much excitement in one day tuckers her out, leaving her exhausted.
While the Mallali and Rodaks chat quietly, Penelope suddenly speaks.
"Admiral Rodriguez's brainwaves have stabilized. He will wake up soon."
Immediately, the room's occupants turn to face the Admiral. All of the Kessu line up on his right side, their little heads and ears barely poking over the bed's frame, while the two Kraktol tower over him in a somewhat scary manner. Soren notices this fact and pulls out a pair of chairs for her and her sister, dropping them down to a less domineering height.
"I have repaired the Admiral's translation implant," Penelope says. "Therefore, he will be able to understand everyone in this room. Megla, Soren, try not to make any sudden movements. I have no doubt the Admiral will try to put on a brave front, but no human will be able to relax in an unknown environment with unfamiliar scenery. Until he acclimates to your presence, it's best to try and replace your terrible first impressions with positive second impressions. Aside from a mind-wipe of his recent memories, we have no other alternatives."
Megla shakes her head. "No mind-wipes. I won't allow it. We've hurt the Admiral enough. I've hurt him enough. We'll make our penance and state our case. Admiral Rodriguez died once already... let's do everything we can to make his second life a comfortable one and get our friend back."
"Well said, sister," Soren says, grinning toothily. "Your concern for the Admiral's wellbeing is touching."
"I wouldn't call it 'concern,'" Megla growls. "More like... guilt."
She and Soren both fall silent. Lele wakes up, roused by her father, Ruuki. However, she doesn't climb off the Admiral, and instead sits upright on his stomach, poking the restraints holding him in place with a look of sadness.
"...Will we be able to untie Big Baldy?"
"Yes, one way or another," Penelope answers. "However, I must warn everyone here. Even under these circumstances, Admiral Rodriguez is the last remaining Terran. If, after informing him of the modern era's current situation, he orders anyone to leave, you must comply. All of Umi's processors link to his well-being. Preserving the last Terran's life is akin to saving the Divine Emperor himself. All of your lives are, sadly, secondary."
From above, Umi speaks. "Affirmative. Admiral Rodriguez's existence is worth ten million times the value to my subroutines compared to anyone here. If he orders the Kessu or Kraktol's extermination, I will obey without hesitation. It is within your best interests to befriend and remind him of why you are such good friends. If he remains unconvinced, your prior merits will mean nothing to me. I do not possess any emotional attachments to your species, nor a capacity for pity and empathy. Do not attempt to appeal to my 'better nature.'"
Soren and Megla both shiver in fright, realizing their lives have suddenly landed upon a dangerous precipice. If José decides they are his enemies, then they won't have any way to fight back. He'll still have full command of the ship's primary systems, and they won't have a chance in hell at preserving their lives.
"B-but, earlier..." Megla stammers. "...You lied to the Admiral. You told him his fellow crewman were alive."
"Yes, I did deceive the Admiral," Penelope replies with a nod. "However, my actions were in accordance with emergency medical policy. Once the Admiral is fully informed of the current galactic situation and I can confirm he is of sound and stable mental awareness, I will no longer consider him a red-level patient. He will be free to make his own choices."
Soren nods. "Understood. Then... Megla and I will do our best to remind the Admiral of our friendship. I do not wish to die under his hands, nor for him to suffer emotionally as a result of our careless actions. However, if he decides to execute us..."
The croc falls silent and closes her eyes.
"...Then so be it."
Megla's eyes widen in alarm. "Sister? What are you saying? This isn't like you, to consider giving up without a fight! It's... it's illogical!"
"Perhaps. But when it comes to the Admiral, I cannot bring myself to fight him. I've long-since realized my actions defy logic, but I cannot place when or why that changed."
Soren looks at her sister meaningfully. "Isn't it the same for you?"
Megla sighs. She lowers her head and nods.
"...Well, yes. I suppose it is. Kyargh! You're even more my sister than I remember."
Suddenly, Admiral Rodriguez coughs. The abrupt noise startles Lele, making her ears flatten and fur stand on end. However, the kitten quickly recovers, feeling slightly ashamed of her instinctive fright.
José's eyes flutter open.
Hazily, he stares forward, not quite perceiving the world before him.
"Where... where am I?"
Next Part
Author Note:
If you enjoy what you've just read, please consider subscribing to my Patreon! I am very poor and presently jobless due to Coronavirus, so every dollar helps. You get access to Cryopod artwork, and plenty of other exclusive posts, with more to come soon.
Also consider reading The Cryopod to Hell, the primary story in the Cryoverse! Both stories are part of the Cryoverse, so they're deeply interlinked. You don't wanna miss them!
Thank you!
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