by J. N. Chaney
He set his helmet down on the deck. “Eventually, I am going to die. Even if I don’t get myself blown to bits in a space battle, I’m eventually going to get too old for this shit. What happens then? Who takes over? Am I supposed to have kids, to create, like, a line of Messengers?”
“Again, the Creators have not provided any insight or guidance that I can currently access.”
Dash scowled. It had been a while since he’d slammed headlong into the wall of ambiguity and vague half-answers that seemed to be the Unseens’ modus operandi. But it wouldn’t be right to take it out on Custodian, who was just doing what he was programmed to do. So he took a deep breath and let it out.
“Fine. Let’s just table that question for now. You brought me here for a reason.”
“I did. There is a matter of profound importance that I must discuss with you. It is based on what the Creators saw as an unlikely contingency or, perhaps, as a future endeavor for the Messenger.”
“Okay. This is sounding pretty heavy. Should I sit down?”
“I’m not sure how configuring your body makes any difference to the discussion.”
Dash laughed. “Custodian, your humor gives me life.”
“My understanding was that you had selected Leira as your social and sexual mate. If you want me to fulfill that role, I suppose I could engineer some form of anatomically appropriate construct—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I meant that in the respectful, really good friends sort of way, not—the anatomically appropriate construct way!”
“I know.”
“You—wait. Custodian,” Dash sighed, a grin breaking over his features. “Well done.”
“Did you find it amusing?”
Dash laughed in a way he hadn’t in a long time. “Yeah, I did. Very much so.” He actually had to wipe a laughter tear from his face. “Anyway, back to business.”
“Indeed. The Creators did not, I believe, envision the Deepers. At the time they established the concept of the Messenger, they appear to have been wholly unaware of their existence.”
“Since there was absolutely nothing in the archives about them, that makes sense.”
“However, the Creators were canny enough to realize that they could not possibly envision every threat the Messenger and their followers might face. Accordingly, they did take steps to provide the Messenger with the means to face such unknowns.”
“Like the Deepers.”
“Like the Deepers. Every race in the known galaxy shares certain physiological and genetic characteristics. There are similarities between your DNA and that of the Kosan, and the Rin-Ti, and the Hriki, and all of the others we have encountered. Even the Creators didn’t know how this came to be the case or, if they did, they never recorded it. The Deepers, however, are a race apart. Their biology does not use DNA as its foundation. They are, therefore, a challenge in terms of their fundamental nature, as well as in terms of distance.”
“Coming from out in the Big Black like that? Yeah, they sure are. But with the gates—”
“Then distance is irrelevant. However, that begs the question if you are, as the Messenger and commander of the Cygnus Realm, truly comfortable using the technology of the gates without us truly understanding it. We aren’t even sure of its origin, as even the Deepers seem to have simply adapted it.”
“Maybe the gates belong to who or whatever spread DNA biology all over the place,” Dash offered.
“Perhaps. But the important point is that we are coming to rely on gate technology to prosecute this war. Our only viable access to the Big Black, you call it, is through the Backwater Gate, to the Deeper platform that we have seized. Again, are you comfortable with this?”
Dash rubbed his chin. It was a dodgy basis for a star-spanning entity like the Cygnus Realm, tech they didn’t understand and couldn’t even really control. But their only other way of reaching out into the intergalactic void and taking the war to the Deepers was by translating through a black hole, like The Maw. And that was just far too dangerous to rely on. So for now, Dash had to think that the gates were a tool, an opportunity, as well as a threat. “Am I comfortable with it? Hell, no. I’m not comfortable doing anything but building a life with Leira. And fishing. But what choice do we have? I mean, someday, I hope, we’ll have a better understanding of it. But until then—"
“But what if the Deepers did borrow the technology? There is precedent for such things. The Golden derived essentially all of their tech from the race that preceded them and that they destroyed. Even the Creators acknowledge basing some of their technological achievement on forerunner races.”
“Well, sure. But that’s a big maybe. For all we know, the Deepers are the ones who created gate technology.”
“If so, then why are they not using it to attack us more aggressively? To avoid our defenses completely? Why would they have placed the near end of the Backwater Gate on the planet’s surface, inside its atmosphere, when it would make far more sense, from a practical, spaceflight point of view, to keep it well away? And why are they allowing us to make use of the gates, essentially unimpeded?”
Dash did sit down. It was awkward in his vac armor. “All good questions.” He rubbed his chin again. “Okay, so assuming the gates belonged originally to someone else, then we find them. Find the source, anyway, whatever it is. No matter who, no matter where.”
“Which is exactly what I expected you to say.” The wall flickered to life, depicting a massive structure. Truly massive, in fact, Dash realized as he studied it. Far larger than the Forge, with dozens of levels and no fewer than five spaceports arrayed around its perimeter. It was on a scale that Dash found almost impossible to comprehend for something that was constructed rather than a naturally occurring body, like a planet or moon.
He finally found some words. “What the hell is that?”
“It is called the Kingsport. If humanity must leave its galactic home behind, then there are things that can be done to bring that home into intergalactic space. This is the realization of that.”
“Okay, first of all, holy shit. Secondly, holy shit. Thirdly, did the Unseen ever mean for us to build this thing, this Kingsport?”
“As I said, it has, until now, only been a contingency. It hasn’t been necessary to consider undertaking what, as you can well imagine, is a colossal task. But if you truly intend to lead the Realm outside of the galaxy, and seek the source of the gates, then I believe we must give serious consideration to constructing it.”
Dash stood, head tipped back as he surveyed the image. For a moment, that was all he could do, just stare. “How many Forges can fit in that?” he finally asked.
“In terms of mass, ninety-three. In terms of space, the Kingsport is the equivalent of a dwarf planet.”
Dash inhaled, then let the breath out slowly, thinking through the implications. “And we would build this out in the Big Black?”
“Yes, and—”
“Between the Milky Way and, I’d assume, a dwarf galaxy, right? The closest Magellanic Cloud?”
“Exactly. It will be a safe harbor and essentially unassailable, but it will require an effort beyond anything you have ever attempted, Messenger.”
“No shit.” Dash couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around the logistics, the construction effort, the volume of materials—
“What about you, Custodian? Where would you fit into this?” Dash asked.
Inside the image, a small blue outline appeared near the center of the vast construct. It was the Forge. It was also minuscule compared to the complete structure. The already nearly impossible to understand scale of the Kingsport became even more surreal. “With your approval, I would continue my work supporting you from a new location, at the heart of the Kingsport.”
For a while, Dash just sat and let the idea sit in his mind. He deliberately avoided trying to start thinking through the practical implications, the titanic amount of effort this was going to require. Instead, he focused on the feel of the idea.
&nb
sp; Eventually, he smiled.
“Okay, Custodian, I’m in. Where do we start?”
Without a word, Leira walked up to the big screen in the Command Center and kicked it.
Dash blinked in surprise. “What was that for?”
She turned to him. “There’s something wrong with this thing. Nothing that big can be, you know, constructed, so the scale must be off or something.”
“I can assure you that all of the display’s functions are operating correctly,” Custodian said, sounding a little peeved.
Leira crossed her arms, her skepticism matched by that of the rest of the Inner Circle assembled in the Command Center. “Okay, so let’s see if I’ve got this straight. We are somehow going to move all this material—literally millions, probably tens and maybe even hundreds of millions of tons—”
“More like billions,” Conover cut in, his attention raptly fixed on the image.
“Okay, sure. Billions. Hell, trillions. It doesn’t matter. We’re somehow going to move all that stuff thousands of light-years out into the Big Black and build this thing out there,” she went on.
“Something like that,” Dash replied.
“If we use every ship we’ve got, loaded to the bulkhead with materials, how many trips would that take? How long would it take?”
Custodian spoke up. “Assuming the cargo capacity of the existing fleet, with each ship maximized for cargo, it would take a minimum—”
“Custodian, that’s okay,” Leira said, cutting him off. “The actual numbers don’t matter. The fact is that this thing is completely impractical, a complete fantasy.”
She watched Dash as she said it, then glanced back at the image. Back to him.
“So, when do we start?” she asked.
Again, Dash couldn’t help being surprised. “You mean, you do agree we should do this?”
“Oh, shit no. Not at all. But I can tell you intend to try, so I might as well do my part,” Leira replied.
Dash put his hands on his hips and smiled a thin smile. “Glad to hear it. But we’re not going to lug all of these materials out there by ship, obviously. Or we are, but we’re going to have to use the gate technology to do it.”
Leira uncrossed her arms. “Okay. But that means we need gates we can control.”
“And that means finding their builders, or whatever legacy those builders left behind,” Conover said.
Dash pointed at him. “Give the man a medal. Yeah, that’s exactly what we need to do.”
It was Viktor’s turn to scowl. “I love me a good engineering project, but I’ll echo Leira here. Holy shit, Dash. Isn’t it likely that the answer to all of this, the origins and operation of the gates, is in the custody of the Deepers? And they’re trying to unravel it, which is what has got them this far?”
“If that’s true, the Deepers are going to be guarding that knowledge especially well,” Harolyn put in.
Dash had Custodian put up a star-chart, zoomed far out, so it encompassed the rimward expanse of the galactic arm, and the intergalactic void beyond it.
“Custodian, show us where the gates are. The ones that we know of.”
A number of points appeared. Dash immediately recognized the Black Gate, which had led them into this part of the Milky Way to begin with. Further spinward was the Backwater Gate, with its terminus far outside the galaxy. The few other gates they knew about, or suspected, speckled the map.
“Now show me where the Arkubators are—again, that we know of. As close as you can, please, with projected orbits,” Dash said.
This time, several long, curving red lines appeared. One lay within only a few light-years of the Forge’s current location and was considerably shorter, that particular Arkubator apparently traveling more slowly than all the others.
“Now, extend them backward in time until they meet,” Dash went on.
Only two of the Arkubator trajectories met in both time and space, 23,300 light-years outside of the galaxy.
“Custodian, can we see anything at all at the point where those two Arkubator tracks converge?”
Custodian answered by placing another image on the display in its own window. It was utterly black, except for a single, white point. It could have been a mote of light-colored dust that had landed on the display.
“This is the best image the Forge’s scanners can obtain in telescopic mode,” Custodian said. The image changed, the point of light becoming a slightly larger, fuzzy spot.
“That doesn’t make it much better,” Benzel said, his tone sardonic.
“Nonetheless, this image is sufficient to draw some conclusions about what you are seeing,” Custodian replied.
“Such as?” Leira asked.
“Based on changes in the object’s apparent brightness and minor perturbations in its location, it would seem to be a white dwarf star, with two planetary companions in close, almost circular orbits.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the loneliest place in the known universe,” Harolyn said.
“How long a trip to get there?” Dash asked, breaking the lingering silence.
“Too long to represent a practical journey, Messenger. Between six and ten months, assuming the best translation drive is operating continuously at peak efficiency.”
This time, Sentinel interrupted. “And before you suggest using the wormhole method of traveling that distance, through a black hole such as The Maw, don’t bother. The probability of successfully making such a transit is less than five percent, and quite likely less than one.”
“Well, since you’re the one that would have to do all the number-crunching, I’ll take your word for that, Sentinel,” Dash said.
Conover stepped forward. “We need to find a way to do this. It means we need to figure out that gate technology.”
But Amy stepped forward with him. “Really? Even if the Deepers aren’t sitting on it, it could be anywhere. Hell, it might not even exist at all. The answers you want may very well have died with whoever figured them out in the first place. We’d be chasing ghosts, nothing more.”
Dash gave Amy a cheery smile. “You know what? You’re right, Amy.”
She stared for a moment, then turned suspicious. “I am? But it was your idea in the first place, Dash.”
“Kinda makes me wonder why you even suggested it, if that’s the case,” Viktor said.
But Dash raised a hand to cut off debate before it got fully derailed. “I’m not saying we won’t pursue the gate tech. Going back to Leira’s observations about what it’s going to take to build the Kingsport, we have to find out its secrets and learn how to use it. In the meantime, though, there’s only one thing to do.”
“Which is?” Leira asked.
“I’ve gotta get faster.”
“And by that, I assume you mean the Archetype, as the neural net that enables your Meld, as well as your body, are at the very limit of human achievement.”
Dash grinned. “Hear that, everyone? I’m the pinnacle of human achievement!”
“That isn’t quite what I said, Messenger. But that aside, how would you propose to make the Archetype significantly faster?” Custodian asked.
“I have a simple solution, and it goes sort of like this—if one is good, then two are better.”
Silence. Everyone just stared at him. If Custodian had a face, it would be staring at Dash, too.
“I’m talking about power cores,” Dash finally said.
“A quad core is the current limit of Shroud technology and has not been superseded by anything in my records,” Custodian said.
“Your records. Not Kai’s,” Dash said.
“I confess that he has access to information that seems lost to the Creator’s main database here on the Forge. This is a matter he and I have been working to rectify, but it is a slow process.”
Dash nodded. “Ask him to meet me in the main bay. We need to take a trip.”
“Certainly. Where shall I say you’re going?” Custodian asked.
Dash smiled
. “Home.”
7
Dash let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Nothing like being back in the warm, cozy space of the Orion Arm, is there?”
“Is there really any difference between this region of space and the one we just left Messenger?” Kai asked.
Dash rolled his eyes. “You’re spending too much time with Custodian, Kai. You’re starting to sound just like him.”
“You do realize that’s a compliment, being favorably compared to one of the Creators’ greatest achievements,” the monk replied.
Dash surrendered and just returned a non-committal uh-huh. As he did, he scanned the region around the Black Gate. They wondered if the Deepers might have actually used it to launch an incursion into the Realm’s home space, in the Orion arm.
But there was no sign of them. The nearby planet, the one created by the Unseen for use of the Realm following the Life War, seemed as pristine as ever. If the Deepers had decided to launch an invasion through the Black Gate, they’d almost certainly have started stripping the planet for its considerable resources.
He turned his attention to the ship accompanying the Archetype, the light cruiser Daring. She was an upgraded version of the Unseen’s standard light cruiser template, with an enhanced Blur drive. It made her one of the few Realm ships that could keep up with the Archetype when Dash amped the mech up to its maximum acceleration.
“I have determined a course to our destination, the Procyon star system,” Sentinel said.
“Okay, let’s get this show on the road. Daring, you ready to translate?”
“Whenever you are, Dash,” her pilot replied.
Dash engaged the translation drive, flinging the Archetype into unSpace and on the way to Procyon, or, more correctly, its strange companion planet, which Kai called The Stranger.
“So, Kai, I never did get a chance to ask you—why does your Order call this place The Stranger? It’s an odd name for a planet.”
“Truthfully, I’m not sure. All my Order’s archives recorded is that a monastery was established there early in our history, but only for a short time. It was soon abandoned.”
