The Messenger Box Set: Books 1-6

by J. N. Chaney

  And there was a texture to unSpace—a faint, restless ripple of whatever components made it up—an endless pulsation of shifting energies that were seen and unseen, at the periphery of his senses. That was the faint, ceaseless ebb and flow of gravitational waves from the matter that made up real space. He knew that detecting those waves, and deciphering their peaks and crests, their interference patterns and eddies, was somehow fundamental to unSpace navigation, but didn’t really understand how. That was a job for the nav computer.

  Except he could read the story those waves were telling him. Somehow, he could map them back to real space, knowing exactly where he was based solely on those faint gravitational echoes. Then, he could just fly there.

  He was freed of the shackles of mere material flesh and was more a mind racing through this bizarre realm of everything and nothing. Frankly, it was also a little terrifying. He didn’t even see how his brain could actually recognize any of this. How any mere human brain could. And the fact was, it couldn’t—not without the hyper-advanced help of the Archetype.

  Anyway, he would arrive in his target system soon. Not that time really meant much here in unSpace.

  As for eating, sleeping, and excreting waste, none of those things seemed to matter, either. Probably thanks to his “connection” with the Archetype, they were either things he simply no longer had to do, or they were somehow being done for him. In any case, none of them seemed relevant and he didn’t have any of his usual cravings. Dash simply zoomed through unSpace, as though he was swimming underwater through a very dark lake.

  He emerged from unSpace and found himself suddenly back in the star-scape of real space. A dim, ruddy sphere hung not far away. It was a red dwarf, the most long-lived of all stars. A halo ringed it, an asteroid belt of shattered wanderers, probably the remnants of planets destroyed by whatever cataclysm had turned this star into the faint, reddish cinder it was today.

  His destination was one of those asteroids—an average-sized fragment that otherwise appeared entirely unremarkable. He launched himself toward it. The star’s gravity well assisted his fall toward the asteroids, not that the Archetype seemed to need the help.

  A blast of incandescent energy erupted from the asteroid. Dash managed to dodge it, but it still flashed by close enough that he could feel the discharge as a wash of heat and radiation.

  “What the hell was that, Sentinel?”

  “The installation has automated defenses.”

  “But isn’t this an Unseen thing? Shouldn’t it be on our side?”

  “That would seem reasonable, Dash. I have no explanation as to why the defense system would identify you as a threat.”

  “You mean it could be a malfunction?” asked Dash.

  “It is possible.”

  Dash had become so overwhelmed with the sophistication of Unseen tech that it had never really occurred to him that it could screw up.

  “So what do we do now?”

  “You came here for a reason, Dash. That reason is still valid.”

  “Yeah, but if we have to blow the place up, it kind of makes coming here a little pointless, don’t you think?”

  “It would, yes. Accordingly, do not destroy the installation.”

  “Wow. Thanks. I never could’ve worked that out on my own.”

  Dash had stopped and now hung motionless in space. Whatever installation was on the asteroid hadn’t fired again; maybe it had been a warning shot?

  Or, since this was all some sort of elaborate scavenger hunt anyway, maybe it was a test. After all, he was apparently supposed to be proving that he was choosing to take on this role as Messenger, and not just bumbling into it, despite the fact that he did feel he had pretty much bumbled into it. The trouble was, it was an Unseen weapon that had fired at him. The raiders he’d fought had been using conventional weapons, particle beams and missiles, available throughout the galaxy.

  Compared to the Archetype, they were extraordinarily primitive—like some ancient explosion-driven projective weapon compared to a particle cannon. Sure, they could still hurt the Archetype; enough of them might even be able to destroy it. But an Unseen weapon might be able to just vaporize it in a single shot. He thought of the Archetype’s own dark-lance beam, a weapon the nature of which he still didn’t fully understand, and how it seemed to make matter just go away.

  “Any suggestions, Sentinel?”

  “If you get close enough to the installation to be able to distinguish the weapon systems, you should be able to neutralize them.”

  “So, just kinda fly on in and hope we don’t get blown to bits on the way?”

  “If the Archetype was fully powered up, that would be a risk-free approach.”

  “Yeah, and if my aunt had balls, she’d be my uncle.”

  Dash had to smile at the thought of this super-advanced AI parsing that. Apparently, it decided just to ignore it.

  “Since the Archetype is not fully powered-up, you will have to decide how much risk you are willing to assume.”

  “I’d prefer none, thanks, Sentinel.”

  Okay, so it was obviously up to him. Dash frowned at the distant belt of rocks orbiting the red dwarf. There were a lot of them larger than the one that was his destination, but far more that were smaller, all girdling the dim, red sun like a colossal belt.

  “Okay,” he said, “if we can’t be direct, then let’s do what’s got me out of a lot of scrapes…and into a few, as well, but that’s not important right now. Let’s be sneaky.”

  Dash somersaulted and zoomed away from the red dwarf, then turned and arced along in a wide orbit around it. He had to pour on some speed, needing to move faster than the asteroids in their relatively tight orbit around the star.

  When he was finally at a point almost exactly on the far side of the red dwarf from the Unseen installation, he turned and raced back sunward, trying to adjust his course along the way. He needed to keep the star between him and the installation.

  And hope the Unseen hadn’t seeded weapons throughout the asteroid belt.

  It appeared they hadn’t though. Dash sped into the fringe of the belt, then turned so he raced down its length, steadily arcing his way around and back toward the other side of the star, where the installation was. It struck him that this would be a tough flight in the Slipwing, with him having to make constant course corrections to dodge and weave among the tumbling rocks.

  He could probably do it, but there was a good chance of damage, and it would burn a lot of fuel. In the Archetype, though, he just dove under rocks, soared over top of them, and swung around them in tight turns. Small fragments did slam into the Archetype, vanishing in flashes of kinetic energy and clouds of dust, but the damage was negligible.

  The installation rose over the dull red star. Dash fought to keep himself in the shadow of asteroids as he approached it—one of which disappeared in a dazzling flash as the installation’s weapons opened up. He flung himself sideways, behind another rock; it, too, erupted into vapor and fragments.

  On and on it went, Dash keeping the biggest fragments he could find between him and those terrifyingly powerful blasts. A few times, he found himself blocked by something little larger than the Archetype itself, making him think of someone trying to hide behind a skinny lamppost or structural beam, and looking awkwardly obvious about it.

  Almost there. Another rock vaporized; this time, part of the beam washed past it and clipped the Archetype. Part of the upper leg boiled away to glowing vapor. Dash yelped and swore and threw himself behind another rock. The wound would heal, but next time it might catch him full-on, crippling him, leaving him exposed.

  He had to end this as soon as possible, as in now.

  Dash readied the dark-lance then gritted his teeth and zoomed into the clear. He saw the snout of the weapon aiming at him, its dome-like enclosure on the surface of the target asteroid rotating fast. He fired the dark-lance, just as the defensive weapon opened up on him.

  Fortunately, he could maneuver; it couldn’t
. The dark-lance tore through the dome, causing it to collapse and implode. As it did, he heaved himself to one side, catching only a glancing hit from a portion of the stupendous blast. Part of his right arm vaporized and he gasped and swore again. It would be just his luck to find out there was a second defensive weapon that he hadn’t noticed.

  But there was no more incoming fire. Letting out a slow breath, he resumed his way until he landed on the asteroid near a second dome-like structure. The remains of the big cannon, gun, whatever it was, still glowed red hot against the asteroid’s nearby horizon.

  “Well, that was fun,” he mumbled.

  “And successful,” Sentinel chimed in.

  Before he could even ask why she was suddenly cheery, the answer came to him. The AI was beginning to adapt to his personality. As they continued on together, she would continue to do so. He smiled broadly at the realization. “Yes it was. It was that.”

  Dash shone his suit lamp ahead. A corridor, meticulously straight, extended as far as his light penetrated. Beyond hung a thick curtain of gloom. The Archetype stood outside, so he did the low-grav shuffle as he entered the Unseen installation. It seemed wrong, somehow, to be walking on his own legs, moving his own arms, grasping things with his own hands. It seemed so limited in comparison to his newfound mech. In the Archetype, he could soar through unSpace on the energy of a captive black hole. Here, on his own, his feet felt like two lumps of stone that he had to lift and put down, over and over.

  Dangerous. That was dangerous. It would be easy to get too used to living as the Archetype—never tired, never hungry, more like some sort of god than a man.

  Dangerous, but, seriously, would it be that bad a thing?

  Especially since, upon exiting the Archetype, he had suddenly found himself hungry and thirsty, and needing to relieve himself. Fortunately, the vac suit could take care of all those things, as long as he didn’t mind tepid, stale-tasting water, a bland-but-nutritious food paste, and, well, the suit’s waste reclaimer did what it did.

  It seemed like such a letdown.

  “So I just head straight down this corridor?”

  “Yes, Dash. It descends into the installation, which is located inside this asteroid.”

  “How far?”

  “Six hundred and seventy-three meters.”

  Again, Dash was struck by the fact that the measurement hadn’t been given to him in meters; he actually had no idea what system for measuring things the Unseen used. But that was how his brain had interpreted it. It was just another bizarre reality of the connection he had to the Archetype, which seemed to work perfectly well even when he’d exited it.

  Dash began walking. As soon as he did, he realized he no longer needed to do the shuffle. The installation’s gravity seemed to be exactly one G. He suspected the place’s gravity would always be exactly right for anyone exposed to it.

  Assuming they could get by that automated super-weapon, of course.

  As he went, the darkness parting before his light ahead of them, then closing back in once again behind him. He glanced back once, saw nothing but impenetrable darkness, and resolved not to do that again. It wasn’t that Dash believed in ghosts, but the darkness could hide a multitude of things he didn’t particularly want to encounter, especially in a place that might be two thousand centuries old.

  The sound of his own breathing echoing in his helmet finally got to him. He needed to hear something, anything. “So Sentinel,” he said, “what was this place used for? I mean, besides blowing up anything that comes near it, and I guess hiding a power core for a giant robot?”

  “The Creators had many facilities, which had many purposes. I have no record regarding what specific purposes this one may have had.”

  Dash slowed his pace. “So, wait. You mean you don’t know what I’m walking into here?”

  “Not specifically, no.”

  He stopped. “So how do I know I’m not heading into something that’s going to blow me up, or incinerate me?” Or eat me, his brain silently added.

  “The Creators were not wantonly destructive or harmful, Dash. Everything they did had a rational purpose. Even the defensive system of this place you encountered was here for a reason.”

  Dash sighed and resumed walking. “Well, sure, except that reason somehow came to include attempting to destroy the Archetype, and both of us along with it.”

  “Again, that was unexpected. It was likely a fault in the system itself.”

  “Yeah, but what if there are other faults? I’m the one walking into this place blind, Sentinel.”

  Literally, since the way ahead remained profoundly black.

  “That is a risk,” she admitted.

  “Did you actually know the Unseen? Your Creators? Did you actually meet them?”

  “They created me,” Sentinel said simply.

  “So what were they like?” he pressed, more curious than ever.

  “I don’t understand the question, Dash.”

  “It’s not difficult. I mean, what were they like? Were they high-strung? Laid back and relaxed? Did they get angry easily? Did they laugh a lot?”

  “You are attempting to assign human emotions and reactions to them. That is somewhat fallacious.”

  “So are you saying they had no emotions? Nothing like anger or happiness or sadness or whatever at all? That makes them sound like—well, you. No offense, by the way.”

  “Offense isn’t relevant, Dash. The closest analog to a human emotion I could convey about the Creators is compassion. They sought to preserve sentient races from those who would seek to destroy them.”

  “The Golden, you mean.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Yeah, okay, Sentinel, but they could have been doing that because they wanted to, I don’t know, farm us as food, or use us as slaves someday. What makes you think they actually cared about all of us poor, lesser sentient species?”

  “They had no such designs of which I am aware. They sought, rather, to preserve life such as yours because they considered it their mission. They put forth enormous effort and sacrificed much.”

  “Well, nice to hear that, I guess. Good to know someone out there had our backs.” He paused. “I have to wonder, though, if they’re still out there, why haven’t they come back? Seems like if they managed to find those fortresses you mentioned, they would have played a more active role in safeguarding the galaxy by this point.”

  “I must once again apologize,” said the AI. “The answers you seek are beyond my capacity to give. For all anyone knows, myself included, they could be gone completely.”

  Dash continued along the corridor, his bubble of light the only thing breaking the vast darkness.

  The walls of the corridor abruptly vanished ahead. Dash’s light spilled across an expanse of floor beyond. He paused, then sidled up to the opening and looked around.

  His light barely penetrated far enough to dimly illuminate the side walls of the chamber, which must be huge. It didn’t even reach the far opposite wall or the ceiling above.

  “Well, this is intimidating.”

  “Your reason for coming here is within that chamber,” Sentinel directed.

  “I could have guessed that.” Taking a breath, Dash lifted a foot to step into the chamber, but he just put it back down again, not moving.

  “Something just occurred to me, Sentinel. There were defenses to stop people from getting here. Are there also defenses to stop people from, you know, getting inside? Or making their lives miserable while they are inside?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Oh, for—”

  “However, it would be unusual for the Creators to have used active defense systems inside an installation such as this. In all instances that are recorded, they focused primarily on passive protection. Do not fear, Dash.”

  “Easier said,” he murmured.

  He carried on and saw massive machines, or devices, or structural components. Or maybe sculptures, for that matter. He simply got impressi
ons of great, sweeping curves; gleaming things like beams and pipes colored deep bronze or mirror-bright silver; objects made of crystal that either seemed as clear as water, or tinted with colors he couldn’t quite make out. He had absolutely no idea what any of it was or was for. Then, he suddenly did know, in his strange way of knowing things, that what he sought was just ahead.

  “What was this place?” he asked, eyeing a massive—something, like a frozen fountain of quicksilver. “What was it for, besides holding a power core for the Archetype?”

  It wouldn’t have really surprised him if the AI had told him, no, that’s all this was for. But the reply was surprisingly direct and certain.

  “This was intended as a reconnaissance post. It would monitor a volume of space, in order to alert the Creators to anything of concern.”

  “Oh. Well, that makes sense. I gather they had these things all over the place.”

  “There were thousands, yes.”

  Dash made his way around a huge, iron-grey sphere propped on what looked like legs that were far too spindly for its bulk. “So now you’ve got me curious, Sentinel. Were there any of these watching us humans? Like, near Old Earth?”

  “There is an installation in the Sol system, yes. It is located in the belt of asteroids between the fourth and fifth planets.”

  “That’s unexpected,” muttered Dash, trying to visualize something like this going so long without being discovered.

  So, somewhere in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, among all those rocks, there had been a monitoring outpost, likely built hundreds of thousands of years in the past. Had it been intended to watch the acts of early man as he climbed down from the trees and picked up tools for the first time? Did the Unseen know back then that mankind would have the potential to traverse the stars someday? Or was the outpost simply there to observe the evolution of life on Earth, with little regard as to its outcome?

  “I guess it’s a good thing we never found it,” Dash said. “We never would have left it alone if we had.”