Submitted for the October 2023 prompt: Machine in the Ghost

Euraxes gazed at the moon-sized spacecraft with budding dread. Its resting place marked the epicenter of a planetary catastrophe. Jade iridescence wafted from gashes criss-crossing its exterior, illuminating a plain of molten earth stretching in every direction. Nothing remained on the planet except those who had culled it of life - the Homunculi. They lurked within their fallen vessel, patiently waiting, ever menacing.

 

Extinction stares us in the face, and I fear this last stand will make no difference, thought the flinty-eyed human, observing the dread sphere’s devastation. Nearby, a scattering of fallen orbital defenses lay in ruin, byproducts of the craft’s arrival sixty-seven revolutions prior.

 

“What do you see when you look at your home?” asked an eerily familiar voice - one that beckoned from Euraxes’ past. As he turned, transparent shimmers rippled through his skinsuit, revealing physiological features far removed from those of baseline humans. Portia, his wife, gestured towards a series of conjoined habitats floating just above the horizon. Her posture was rigid and uncompromising, just as he remembered. Silvery, unwavering eyes fixed Euraxes with an intensity she alone possessed.

 

“Who sent you?” Euraxes asked.

 

“I did, before my demise.”

 

He stared back at his home, at the celestial cluster glimmering in cosmic dust. A single tear fled his eye.

 

“So much beauty yet exists, and so much may yet be lost,” he whispered. “He who gives all for the Cluster surely receives all.”

 

Portia approached Euraxes until they stood face to face. In a soothing voice, she said, “You know your calling, but are fearful of what awaits you. As were I and the other soldiers of the Legion.” Daring to dream, Euraxes reached towards her pale face, but found only emptiness. Portia cocked her head and smiled sympathetically.

 

“You must rid this world of all remaining Homunculi abominations. See that the Cluster and our unborn children are spared the fate of the Legion. Secure our line’s future, and claim your immortality.”

 

None doubted her strength, or her conviction. Euraxes smiled in admiration. He looked again at the inoperable craft, and at the severe rents in its outer hull. Nor her martial prowess.

 

“You gave all of yourself, and even in death your counsel is sound,” said Euraxes, smiling fondly at her. But dark thoughts once again dimmed his mind.

 

“How can one single-handedly overcome the might of the remaining Homunculi? Their perverse abilities have reduced our worlds to dead and rotting husks. We stand at the end of the line.” Creases of anxiety marred Euraxes’ smooth face. He peered across the barren, lifeless plain, seeking answers in winds of ash.

 

“Humanity has endured through the eons by taking leaps of faith," she countered, her voice crackling with distortion. “And you are mistaken about this world. Before my demise, I scoured our archives, finding ancient terrestrial blueprints. Humanity has forgotten where it came from, but I set out to change that. Beneath this blasted surface are the seeds of our origin story. Only after the Homunculi are eradicated will they begin to bear fruit.”

 

Her foresight was ever godlike.

 

Euraxes nodded, understanding his role. Dormant nanomachines in his bloodstream awoke, unifying into a sentient organism with terrible power. It sprouted from his pores, enveloping his body in a sheen of chrome armor. Kill systems spun online in whirls of refracted light and gravity, illuminating his figure. Grim-faced, Euraxes approached the downed ship, a lone beacon of light in darkness.

 

“Has our line reached its zenith, or will it rise further?” Portia’s simulant challenged. Its form flickered erratically, then winked out of existence.

 

* * *

 

“And how did each of you come to be here?” The teacher eyed each of her students intently, pacing back and forth in an airy chamber. Beyond its transparent walls were multitudes of similar chambers varying in size and shape. Together they made up a celestial cluster, hovering in space.

 

“We were born in fabrication wombs, just as you were.” A small child with cherubic features spoke solemnly, emerald eyes aglimmer with the newness of youth.

The teacher walked to her charge and fondly cupped a chubby cheek.

 

"You’re right in a literal sense. But my question was rhetorical. Our history is rich and spans eons. More has happened in that time than any one of us could ever hope to remember, even with our augmentations.” She walked to the front of the classroom and reached toward the ceiling. A milky globe fell from it like a drop of water.

 

She held it up for the children to see.

 

Images flashed across its surface, lighting up the room. Soon the walls themselves displayed the same representations.

 

“What do you know of the Ten Thousand? Of the glorious Legion?” The teacher looked expectantly around the room.

 

“They were warriors, weren’t they?” one child ventured.

 

The teacher’s face lit with pride. “Yes. But not just warriors. They were our saviors from those who sought to wipe us from existence. From the Homunculi.”

 

She released the globe. It floated through the room, depicting brilliant flashes of light and chrome figures streaking through the heavens.

 

“Even among the valorous warriors of the Legion, two stood taller than the rest. Portia, who smote the last Homunculi ship from the heavens. And Euraxes, her husband, later annihilated their remaining few single-handedly.” The children stared wide-eyed at the globe, enraptured by vivid scenes unfolding before their eyes.

 

“Sadly, they both succumbed to injuries sustained in battle.” The teacher made a subtle motion, and the globe became inert and was reabsorbed by the ceiling.

“Now look below you.” Beneath the transparent floor was a planet covered in swirls of green and blue. “This is our new home, a gift from the Legion. And because of their supreme sacrifice, we are poised to claim our immortality among the stars.”