by Gary Gibson
There was a recursive quality to what remained that made Corso wonder if he wasn't looking at things in the wrong way. On a whim, he processed a few of the data chunks as graphics. What he got back was much more than he might reasonably have expected – swirling, organic patterns; constantly renewing Fibonacci-like visuals that filled the screen.
Whatever was going on, it was clearly much more than just common sabotage.
And then it came to him: a way to keep himself alive.
The Piri's data stacks were so badly scrambled it shouldn't be hard for him to sabotage his own work there. He could keep some of what he'd developed and present it to the Bandati, but dump the rest and say it got scrambled during the flight from Nova Arctis. The ship had barely survived a nova, after all – so how could they expect otherwise?
Given enough time, and access to the derelict, he could reconstruct the complete protocols. And stay alive in the meantime.
There came a creaking noise from somewhere deeper within the ship. Corso froze, but heard nothing else except silence. He forced himself to relax. The ship had been badly hammered, after all, so it would be a lot more surprising if nothing shifted around from time to time, especially while the vessel was wobbling about between shaped fields.
Then he heard the same sound again, uncomfortably like someone moving around in the rear of the spacecraft. Corso peered into the darkness and realized he was going to have to go and find out what it was, for the sake of calming his nerves as much as anything else.
He finished downloading select fragments of the Magi protocols and flushed the rest. Then he stepped through to the rear of the main compartment, leaned down and peered through one of the narrow crawl-tubes that led through to the rear of the ship. He could see the entrance to Dakota's private sleeping quarters, and another narrow passageway that led through to the rear cargo area and the engine bays.
A shadow moved.
This is ridiculous. I'm jumping at nothing.
But there was only one way to be sure.
He pulled himself along the narrow crawl-tube, and peered through towards where the engine bays were located, but saw nothing bar some light seeping in through the hull breach.
A few moments later he found himself crammed up against a kitchen unit just next to the entrance to Dakota's sleeping quarters. He heard the noise, again, as of something shifting. The emergency systems were still the only source of light, so what little he could see was bathed in a deep red that only enhanced the dark shadows.
This is idiotic, he thought. There's no one here. He squeezed into the sleeping quarters and looked around. The one narrow cot had broken loose of its foldaway latches, scattering bedclothes and yet more clothing across the cabin. He sat down on it, staring up at the ceiling.
Just his imagination, clearly. He started to get up again Someone in the corner of the cabin?
Corso froze in a half-crouch over the cot, glancing towards a tall and narrow recess set into one wall, its interior filled with oiled machinery that glistened under the emergency lighting.
He wouldn't have noticed anything at all if a silhouette hadn't suddenly emerged from the recess.
The figure moved closer to him; man-shaped but not human, and he found himself gazing at the smooth, bland features and not-quite-convincing skin and musculature of a machine-effigy.
His jaw flopped open as he realized what he was looking at. It's a goddamn sex toy.
The effigy moved towards the exit from Dakota's sleeping quarters, metallic tubes extending from its spine back into the recess where it no doubt spent the majority of its existence. These tubes clearly prevented it from getting too far away from the recess that housed it.
Except, of course, that it had moved to stand directly between him and the only way out of the cabin.
'Dakota?' asked the effigy, peering towards him.
It was recognizably the Piri 's voice. And, even though he felt sure this was only his imagination, Corso couldn't help but detect a querulous, almost childlike quality to its tone.
'No, Piri, it's me,' Corso replied, shifting to increase the gap between himself and the effigy. Why am I frightened of it? he reasoned. I didn't expect to find it here, but it's hardly anything to be terrified of. He glanced down at the effigy's member hanging between its smooth flanks. What was particularly worrying was that it appeared no longer as flaccid as just a few moments before.
'Dakota,' the effigy repeated, and Corso considered making a dash past it for the exit, but he had no idea how swift or strong this machine was. It looked formidable.
'Piri! It's me, Lucas Corso. I just requested for permission to come aboard, remember?'
'Yes. I remember. You are Lucas Corso.'
'I have full systems access, Piri. Remember? Dakota gave it to me.'
'Yes. No… please wait.'
The machine paused as if indecisive, and Corso frowned. Who the hell ever heard of a forgetful AI? It wasn't like they were truly intelligent anyway – the Piri's core personality was a Turing engine, plain and simple, regardless of how sophisticated its responses could be.
'Dakota has told me to tell you…' The effigy paused in mid-sentence and ducked its head down to one side, pursing its lips and staring off into the darkness exactly like a human being trying to remember something hovering on the tip of his tongue.
Suddenly, the effigy's mouth grew slack and it drooped, and Corso saw his opportunity. He quickly slipped back through into the cockpit area and glanced towards the external monitors. A few shadowy figures had begun creeping closer and closer to the Piri – more armed Bandati.
Corso rushed towards the airlock, realizing what was almost certainly going to occur. He felt the ship lurch violently around him just as he started to climb back down and into the bay. He lost his grip and hit the deck, hard.
The Piri was shifting violently from side to side on its bed of shaped fields, humming ever more loudly.
He groaned and clutched at the shoulder he'd landed on, and started to pull himself upright. The Bandati warriors had seen him and were moving towards him tangentially, staying close to the far wall of the bay and moving around to one side of the Piri Reis.
'Stop! Go back!' he yelled, appalled. Were they stupidly trying to rescue him?
The Piri rocked again, so violently that the underside of its hull banged hard against one side of its supporting cradle.
The Bandati then started firing at the Piri Reis just as tiny bursts of light began to fill the air around them. The warriors disappeared in a deafening burst of smoke and flame.
Instinct drove Corso to push himself back up onto his unsteady legs and he ran, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the ship as he could.
The platform was already starting to rise back up to the upper bay by the time he reached it. Honeydew was waiting there for him. For a terrible, drawn-out moment Corso thought the Bandati agent intended to leave him behind, but then Honeydew knelt at the platform's edge and reached out with tiny black hands.
Corso leapt forward, grabbing at the platform's edge, his legs dangling as it rose higher. A moment later and he was kneeling on the platform next to the alien, breathing hard.
As he sucked down air, he looked back towards where the Piri had again come to rest on its cradle. Huddled dark shapes burned fitfully around it.
Corso tasted bile in the back of his throat and quickly looked away.
'They died so that you could escape,' Honeydew explained from beside him. 'You have the protocols?'
'The stacks were too severely damaged to recover a completely intact copy' He glanced up at the alien and shook his head. 'You have to remember the ship got hit by a missile. It's going to take time, but I should eventually be able to reconstruct the complete set of protocols. It's the best I can do for now.'
'Then we no longer need the Piri Reis?'
Corso glanced back at Dakota's ship and hesitated. Honeydew was right; if he made it sound like he had everything he'd need, the Bandati
would assume Dakota's ship had outlived its usefulness.
But he didn't want to see it destroyed. After all, it had saved his life before. Maybe it could do so again.
'Look,' he said, improvising, 'the data may be scrambled, but you have to allow me the time to try and retrieve more data from the Piri. If I can do that, you could have a working copy of the protocols a lot sooner.'
Honeydew was staring towards the still-smouldering corpses. 'Very well then, Mr Corso. We will keep the Piri Reis for now. But if you don't recover the complete protocols soon enough, I'll make sure you die just as they did.'
I didn't ask you to send a goddamn rescue party, Corso almost complained, then thought better of it. Seventeen The assault on the Queen of Darkening Skies' personal yacht resumed a little while after Dakota had been given over to Trader's custody, and just as an artificial night began to fall across the core-ship's Bandati-occupied sector. From inside the yacht, Dakota heard a sound like unending thunder accompanied by a series of violent, tooth-rattling vibrations that shook the deck and bulkheads.
The yacht's energy reserves were rapidly approaching their design limitations. Immortal Light pulse-cannons were directed towards the squat steel and concrete structure of the vessel's supporting cradle, whose integral shields had also begun to fail. They soon began to shut down for ever as the thickset structure began to fracture and melt, the external lattice of maintenance platforms shattering and tumbling to the ground under the brutal onslaught.
Then something entirely unexpected occurred.
Most of the artillery fire was coming from semi-autonomous robot units controlled from an Immortal Light command post set up a few kilometres from the cradle. The air around these temporary structures began to sparkle as tiny shaped-field-bubbles first materialized and then shrank, in the blink of an eye, to a millionth of their original diameter. As those same bubbles winked out, the compressed atmosphere inside them exploded with devastating force.
The command bunkers were destroyed instantly, and then thousands more minuscule field-bubbles rapidly swept through the massed forces Immortal Light had gathered for the siege. The wave of destruction came to a halt less than fifty metres from the Queen of Darkening Skies' yacht.
For a couple of kilometres around the cradle, nothing moved, nothing lived, and everything burned. The pulse-ship that had carried Dakota to the coreship had now been reduced to a pile of softly glowing wreckage.
The yacht itself shuddered and lifted up from its cradle on a cushion of shaped fields, which carried it over the carnage as if it weighed little more than a feather. It was borne rapidly towards one of the kilometre-wide pillars that supported the coreship's outer crust.
High in the nearest side of the pillar, an enormous door irised open that was big enough to swallow the craft whole. The yacht was transported inside and then down a wide funnel while, far above, the door slowly crunched back into place. Dakota had since been dragged away from her audience with the Hive-Queen and thrown into an empty, hexagonally shaped chamber with a high ceiling. The door had been closed behind her, leaving her in total darkness.
Some minutes passed, and a faint blue sparkle appeared high up in the chamber. She looked up to see Trader's field-bubble enter the chamber through a passageway set close under the ceiling. He drifted down towards her and she backed away instinctively, frightened at being left alone with the Shoal-member.
Trader came to a halt, his field-bubble hovering a few millimetres above the deck. His enormous piscine eyes were fixed on her.
Then, as Dakota watched, the walls and ceiling around them began to fade from view, revealing a bottomless stony shaft whose walls rushed by at enormous speed. She felt a lurch of vertigo as the deck beneath her feet also became translucent.
Dakota squatted and placed her hands flat on the deck, just to take some comfort from its solidity. What she was seeing was an illusion, of course, but some part of her subconscious refused to accept that she was still on board the yacht.
The only illumination came from Trader's field-bubble and three vertical rows of lights spaced equidistant around the sides of the shaft, which rose far up above as well as below them.
'Where… where are we?' she managed to stammer. At first she could hardly bring herself to look down at the abyss beneath her feet, but when she finally did, she caught a glimpse of something swirling far below.
'You are to witness something few outside the Hegemony have ever been privileged to see,' Trader informed her. We are on our way to the coreship's Shoal-occupied sector. Hence, we travel downwards, towards the centre.'
The lights rushing by gradually began to slow, and they were nearing the bottom of the shaft. Dakota saw waters foam and break against its walls, and she gasped involuntarily as they suddenly dived deep beneath the choppy waves. The parallel lines of light soon gave way to a darkened abyss.
'The core of this vessel is an artificial ocean,' Trader explained. 'Lightless and serene, as close to the optimum habitable environment of our home world as possible. Consider yourself most privileged to swim in such waters.'
Before long they passed by something that, in Dakota's eyes, had a passing resemblance to a jellyfish- if only jellyfish could grow to the size of a small city. She gazed upon several vast toroid structures centred on a semi-translucent column that undulated as she watched. Dozens of Shoal-members swimming together near the hub of one wheel gave her a sense of the thing's sheer size; they looked like minnows caught in the wake of some enormous sea monster.
Each torus was connected to the column by sets of spokes that were dotted with lights, nacelles and the unmistakable regularity of machined parts. More lights delineated the outer edge of each torus. Deep within the column itself, she could see shadowy shapes that suggested a skeletal structure entwined with gently pulsing organs. She had the sense she was indeed looking at some kind of city, but one that was also a living organism.
They continued on until the only light came from Trader's field-bubble.
'Why are you showing me all this?' Dakota demanded.
'Why?' Trader was silent for a moment. 'In essence, my greatest desire is that you witness how very much there is to lose. You and I, dear Dakota, are driven to swim dangerous currents because it is within our natures to do so. You by happenstance stumbled upon our most valued secrets, but in that very process discovered the reasons for such secrecy. And so for all that you believe you hate us – for visiting a multitude of despair upon poor ravaged Redstone, and for your life ever since that unfortunate debacle – you nonetheless understand why we have worked so hard to prevent the spread of the Magi's secrets among our client species.'
There was something appalling about the blackness of the ocean that surrounded them. Dakota felt as if she were descending into hell, and being lost in such an abyss awakened ancient, primeval fears. So she focused on Trader, and his protective bubble of energy, in order to distract herself from what lay beyond him.
'You know,' she managed to say eventually, 'that's not far from being a confession of sorts. Like you have a need to justify your actions to me.'
'It was always within the realm of possibility that some species very like yours would stumble across a cache long before we could sweep it into concealing depths, far from the watchful eyes of others. Yet all we could ever do was forestall the inevitable, and upon my willing fins was placed much of the burden of that responsibility. My only defence is the peace we have imposed upon the galaxy – a peace that has lasted far longer than some of our client species have even existed. To have done otherwise would be to shirk the responsibility thereby placed upon us. And now,' he added, 'my instruments inform me that there are several new structures inside your skull. Magi structures, it seems.'
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'A stain upon your noble reputation, Miss Merrick, that you would wish to deceive me when the truth is so abundantly clear. I witnessed, as from a great distance, your flight from Ironbloom. Within moments your
mind had penetrated the Bandati vessel that carried you away, even as you destroyed the Magi ship that had delivered you to Night's End.'
'Fine.' She sighed and slumped to the floor, her back resting against one wall. 'So what's your point?'
Trader's tentacles writhed beneath the wide curve of his under-body. 'An exponential leap in your ability to control computational systems remotely, is it not? You had control of the pulse-ship within seconds, Dakota. Just seconds.'
Dakota shook her head wearily. 'I don't know how I did it. I just-'
'Did it without even really thinking?'
Dakota averted her gaze, her expression defiant as the Shoal-member drifted closer.
'Upon us the Magi attempted most foul seduction, dearest Dakota. When first they arrived from faraway skies, they offered to us the pleasure of hunting the Maker caches by their side, through nebulous reef and abyssal depth. And, yet, any one of their ships was equal to our entire civilization at that time.
'No, what they most wanted, in its entirety, was to regain the lofty heights of their civilization, to build new temples and palaces and wonders – even to rebuild their empires in place of our own. Oh, Dakota, it would have been grand beyond imagining. But it would have been their empire, yes, not ours. Only ever in their shadows would we then live, and only upon their sufferance.'
'So you destroyed them?'
'In order to protect ourselves! It was necessary to be cunning, to engage in conspiracies that lasted half a millennium while they repaired and maintained part of their fleet. Meanwhile, other ships of their fleet – we never knew just how many – scattered themselves throughout this fair spiral arm of ours, caught up in their grand quest.'
After a pause, he continued. 'And, for all their lofty ambitions, we found the means to subvert their systems and kill them from great distances. A few of their ships escaped from our world and were hunted down one by one, and continue, Dakota, to be hunted long after their navigators have become dust. Look there.'
