by J. N. Chaney
As for the core itself, it offered up nothing more telling, aside from a vague sense that it incorporated power on some scale he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. It was like looking at a distant star, he thought. It might look like a tiny point of light, but in reality it was a colossal, ongoing nuclear fusion explosion.
“Maybe the core itself is defective,” he said, looking at Conover.
“I was just thinking that. But if it is, I can’t tell.”
“Well, hopefully our friends here can,” Viktor said, standing. He nodded toward the monks.
“Then Dash better be able to win this fight on his own,” Conover replied. He was unable to keep a despairing note out of his voice, which he hated. Even in the worst, most difficult moments, the rest of them seemed to be nothing but calm and professional.
“Uh, guys?” Amy said, stepping close to him and Viktor. “I was just thinking. If Dash doesn’t win this fight, and we can’t get the Forge powered up…” She took a breath. “What then? We’ve got no ship to get away from here.”
Viktor shrugged. “I think the answer to that is pretty evident.”
“Wow, fatalistic much?” Conover said, sounding very much like a teenager. Which he was, but just then, his sour tone hung in the air, unwelcome.
Viktor shrugged again. “The facts are the facts. We chose to come back here instead of going to find more cores so Dash could power up the Archetype.”
“Which you thought was a mistake,” Conover said.
“I did,” Viktor replied. “I was afraid we were trying to do too much at once, which meant risking doing none of it well enough to make it matter. But this is what we settled on. So now we have to try to make this work, don’t we?”
Conover nodded, but the worry tightening his gut ratcheted up another notch. When he’d left Penumbra aboard the Slipwing, ostensibly just a passenger, even a tourist—really, though, just as a way of getting him out of his aunt’s hair—he’d only known the Unseen as a vague legend. Finding out they were not only real, but still existed had been stunning, but also amazing. Seeing their tech up close had been even more amazing and profoundly exciting. But then they’d found themselves in the crosshairs of Clan Shirna, then they’d learned about the Golden, who wanted to kill everyone, everywhere, and they’d almost died in the crushing terror of a massive gas giant. Now, Conover faced death again—and, on top of it all, he’d killed a man.
It wasn’t exciting and amazing any more. It was just relentless frustration and the very real possibility of dying in space.
“Here,” Kai called out, pointing at a display. Another monk pored over the flickering symbols, tapping something into a data-pad as he did. “We might have the answer, or at least part of it.”
Grabbing onto the lifeline of hope Kai had just thrown, Conover and the others hurried over to the display, even though it wasn’t any more comprehensible to them now than it ever had been.
“What have you got?” Conover asked.
“This seems to be giving the status of various systems aboard the station,” Kai said. He pointed at a line of symbols. “This is the interesting one.”
The symbols looked no different than the rest to Conover, but he nodded anyway. “Why? What makes it so interesting?”
“And please don’t say it’s because something has gone terribly wrong and there’s no way to fix it,” Amy added.
“It seems that, even though the Orb is actually installed here, the systems it is intended to power are located elsewhere.”
Viktor frowned. “We probably could have just assumed that.”
“Yeah, I hate to be the negative one, but that’s not really very interesting at all,” Amy said.
But Conover raised a hand. “I don’t think Kai brought this to our attention just to tell us that.” He looked at the monk. “You didn’t, did you?”
“Of course not. Whatever these systems are—”
“Weapons, apparently,” Viktor said.
“And some sort of cloaking field,” Conover added.
Kai nodded. “Right. Those systems are apparently in some sort of…” He paused, looking at the other monk and indicating several particular symbols. “Does that say alternate, or does it say storage? I still have trouble telling these characters apart when they’re modified by a subordinate clause.”
“Can we just focus on what it’s saying, please?” Amy said. “And more to the point, what we can we do about it?”
“I think it means standby, or backup,” the other monk said.
Conover nodded. “Either makes sense. So those systems are in standby mode. The question is, how do we make them active?”
“Does it say anything about that?” Viktor asked.
“In a way it does,” Kai replied. “It seems that the problem is some sort of interruption between them and the Orb that is preventing power from flowing from one to the other.”
Conover frowned. “Interruption? What sort of interruption?”
“I’m sorry, but we don’t know. That may be explained somewhere in here.” Kai gestured at the various displays around them. “Unfortunately, translating it all will take time.”
“Even then, there’s still a great deal of it we can’t translate,” the other monk said.
“If Dash were here, he could probably solve this in no time,” Amy said.
“Unfortunately, he isn’t here,” Viktor replied. “So we’re stuck doing this on our own.”
“Custodian,” Conover said, “is there anything more you can tell us about this?”
“I have little information to offer. If there is an interruption in the power distribution system of the Forge, I am unaware of it.”
“Well, shit,” Amy said, leaning on the edge of the console and bowing her head.
Okay, Conover thought, that just wasn’t right. He’d become used to Amy’s infectious good humor, so seeing her apparently giving in to despair galvanized him. Yes, they might be facing imminent death. There was no way he’d let Amy face it without that goofy, captivating grin on her face, though.
So Conover crossed his arms and said, “Wait a second. You say you’re unaware of any interruption in power distribution. Does that mean there isn’t one?”
“To the extent of my ability to detect one,” Custodian replied, “there is not.”
Conover stared at a point on the floor as he chewed on Custodian’s words. These AIs, he’d come to realize, tended to be very literal. What they said was exactly what they meant.
“To the extent of your ability to detect a power interruption,” he said. “Does that mean there may be interruptions, and you just can’t detect them?”
“If I can’t detect them, then that would certainly follow.”
“But aren’t you aware of any damage that occurs to this station?” Viktor asked, starting to pick up Conover’s line of thinking. “Isn’t that basically your purpose?”
“It is one of my purposes, yes. To answer the question, though, I would generally be aware of any damage to the Forge, as well what repairs would be necessary.”
“So, under what sort of circumstances would you not be able to detect something happening on the Forge?”
“If such events or information were concealed from me.”
“That’s it?” Conover asked. “That’s the only way? Or could there be damage so severe that you actually end up unaware of it?”
“That is highly unlikely. The Creators ensured sufficient redundancies in the Forge’s essential functions that, short of effectively complete destruction of it, there is almost no possibility of my being unaware of such damage to it.”
“Unless it was being deliberately concealed from you,” Conover said, speaking as much to himself as to Custodian.
“As I said.”
Amy gave Conover a keen look. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure. It just seems strange that there could be a fault somewhere but Custodian somehow doesn’t know about it.”
“This statio
n is astounding in its sophistication,” Kai said, “but it is also profoundly old. Perhaps it is simply a malfunction. We found several systems in the Unseen complex back on Shylock that seemed similarly defective.”
“Or else you just weren’t able to activate them,” Conover replied. “Or maybe you weren’t even meant to. Also, the Forge was pretty clearly meant to be a base of operations for the Archetype. The Unseen must have known it would be a huge target for the Golden and made sure it was as durable as they could make it.”
“Conover, you obviously think you’re onto something here,” Viktor said. “What do you think is going on?”
“Custodian, is there any way to do an actual, physical inspection of the Forge? To try to visualize damage to it?”
“There are maintenance remotes that are used to assist in repairs beyond the capabilities of local systems.”
“It could take us hours, maybe even days, to inspect this entire station,” Viktor said.
But Conover shook his head. “If there’s damage, it most likely came from the attack by those Golden drones. That means it’s most likely to be damage to the exterior. It shouldn’t take long to find it, if it’s there.”
Viktor looked at Amy and Kai.
“I got nothing,” Amy said.
Kai shrugged. “This is far outside my area of expertise. It would seem a reasonable course of action, though.”
Viktor nodded. “Yeah, I’ve certainly got nothing better to suggest.”
“Custodian, can you send out these repair remotes to examine the outside of the Forge?” Conover said. “And send any data they collect to us here?”
He braced himself, ready for Custodian to say, Only the Messenger is authorized to do that, or something equally aggravating that they’d have to waste more time arguing about. But it just said, “Underway.”
A nearby display lit up with a schematic rendition of the Forge, which began rotating, at the same time showing incrementally more of the station’s exterior surface as the remotes scanned it. Their progress seemed agonizingly slow, though; Conover pressed his lips together, thinking, this is going to take way too long.
But after only a few moments, the image zoomed in and was replaced with what must be actual imagery from a remote. Sure enough, it had found a breach, a hole punched through the hull of the Forge. It wasn’t very large, just a few meters across.
“What the hell could have done that?” Amy asked.
“And why isn’t Custodian able to see it, and get it fixed?” Viktor added.
Conover was pretty sure he knew why, but he wanted to make absolutely sure. “Custodian, can you get a better image of what’s inside that breach?”
The view closed in until they could see through the hole and into the damaged compartment beyond it. The resolution was astounding; it seemed to Conover he could reach into the display and touch the broken structural members. But it was what sat squarely in the middle of the image that yanked hold of their attention.
It was another of the Golden drones.
21
Slowly, the Archetype came back to life.
One system at a time, things came back online. It happened far faster than any conventional, mundane repair Dash could imagine, as the Archetype fixed itself. Even so, it still seemed to Dash to be happening with agonizing slowness.
“Come on,” he muttered, waiting for the maneuver systems to regenerate in particular. If he couldn’t move, he couldn’t influence the battle. And Leira desperately needed him.
The Harbinger fired.
Dash watched in horror as its projectile—possibly a missile from the way it moved, but it glowed with a fierce, greenish glare as it flew—closed on the Slipwing. At the last possible instant, Leira dodged it, slamming the ship through a turning roll that pointed her fusion exhaust at the projectile. It detonated with a dazzling green flash, but the Slipwing weathered it. Leira had been clever; the ablative armor might have taken the blast, but at the cost of some of the ship’s scant protection, as the armor was designed to literally boil away. But the stern of the Slipwing was, like all ships with fusion drive, hardened against the ferocious heat and radiation of its own exhaust, so it shrugged off the blast without costing the armor.
But her maneuver had a downside. She’d put herself broadside-on to the Harbinger now, instead of running straight ahead of it. The Golden mech immediately fired again, and this time the projectile closed with terrifying speed.
Dash ground his teeth in desperate frustration. Leira flung the Slipwing through a wrenching series of maneuvers, but the projectile raced ever closer.
Then came another searing green flash that caused heavy damage to the Slipwing’s shields. Still, Dash’s stubborn little ship zoomed on, as Leira fought to open the range between her and the Harbinger. If nothing else, every kilometer of separation gave her a fraction more time to react.
But it wouldn’t be enough. Dash knew it, and so did Leira.
“Dash, I’m about out of tricks here,” she said, her transmission crackling slightly through the residual ionization of the near hit. “Anything you can offer, I’d be grateful.”
She sounded entirely calm, just the stoic, professional Leira he’d come to know. But he could hear the anxious fear underlying it.
“The Harbinger now has a hard track on the Slipwing,” Sentinel said. “The next projectile will be a hit, regardless of her efforts to avoid it.”
“The next hit will destroy her,” Dash said, his voice flat.
“Very likely.”
He wanted to rage and punch and smash, and not just the damned Golden and their Harbinger. He wanted to lash out at the Unseen, too, for dragging him and his friends into the middle of their war but still making him play this ridiculous game of finding the bits and pieces that would even make standing against the Golden possible.
“The maneuver system is online,” Sentinel said.
Dash didn’t hesitate. He flung himself at the now-distant Harbinger.
“Weapon systems remain offline,” Sentinel warned, but Dash shook his head.
“Don’t care. And the Harbinger won’t know that. I’m going to get it off Leira’s back.”
He wasn’t sure if Sentinel had been inclined to argue, but—maybe because of the tone of his voice—she didn’t even try.
For a long, frozen moment, they all just stared at the drone that was lodged inside the Forge.
Kai finally spoke. “I gather that, whatever that is, it’s something you’re not happy to see.”
“Yeah, you might say that,” Amy said, then gave a brief explanation of what the drones were, and their battle against them to protect the Forge.
As she did, Conover looked at Viktor. “We were attacked by twenty-four of those things. We destroyed twenty-three, and one came aboard latched onto the Archetype. Where did this one come from?”
Viktor shrugged. “It was either one that managed to slip through undetected, or we only assumed twenty-three had been destroyed, and it’s one of those. In any case, does it matter?” He pointed. “Wherever it came from, and however it got there, there it is.”
“So,” Kai said, “that is another of the Enemy’s foul works, embedded in this station like a parasite.”
“I suspect that’s exactly what it is,” Conover said. “Somehow, it managed to punch through the hull in one piece without us or the Forge detecting it. Now it’s sitting there, interfering with the station’s systems.”
“I’ll bet that’s what the real point of the one that came aboard on the Archetype was,” Amy said. “It was a distraction, to keep us from seeing this one.”
“That is likely correct,” Custodian put in, surprising them. “Given the current, low-power state of the Forge, security resources were almost fully engaged in dealing with the drone attached to the Archetype. That would have given this one the opportunity it needed to infiltrate the station and interdict its operations.”
“And it’s managed to keep itself concealed ever since,” Viktor
replied, nodding.
“Can you deal with it now?” Conover asked Custodian. “Can you suppress it, or whatever, the way you did the last one?”
“I cannot. The security systems still do not register even the existence of this drone, much less its present location.”
“But we can see it! It’s right there!”
“I do not dispute that. But if the security systems remain wholly unaware of it, they cannot take countermeasures to deal with it.”
“This is such bullshit,” said Amy, slamming her fist into the opposite palm. “Dash could be getting his ass kicked out there, and here we can’t even help.”
But Conover grabbed her shoulder. “Amy, we need to stay focused here.”
She blinked back at him, then gave a quick nod as her anger subsided to a mild simmer. “Yeah. You’re right. We do. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Conover turned back to the image. Strangely, now that there was an actual, tangible problem to deal with, his earlier fear and anxiety had—not vanished, exactly, but they’d retreated to some distant place, letting the analytical part of him come to the fore. “So, we’re going to have to go and take care of that drone ourselves.”
“It is located in a part of the Forge that is unpowered,” Custodian said. “There is no life support in any of the surrounding compartments. Moreover, interior doors are not operable, presumably because the drone has overridden those systems.”
There was another moment of glum silence, but Conover refused to give up now.
“Alright,” he said, “we’ve got vac suits. And there’s a big hole in the hull, with the drone right inside it.” He looked at the others. “If we can’t get at it from the inside, then we’ll get at it from the outside, instead. Either way, it’s outta here, and we’ve got to be the ones to do it. Dash needs it, we need it, and the Forge needs it.”
Viktor slapped him on the back, smiling at the boy who was growing with each moment. “Sounds good. Once more into the breach and all that.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a quote,” Conover said.
“It is. It’s also true. Let’s go,” Viktor said, and his smile fled like the night at dawn.
