The Messenger Box Set: Books 1-6

by J. N. Chaney

  “And that was the point,” Dash replied.

  “Dash, you’re falling toward that brown dwarf pretty fast,” Leira said, worry tightening her voice. “Is everything okay?”

  Gripping the remnant of the missile in both of the Archetype’s hands, he accelerated, raising his orbit again. “Yup, we’re fine. I was just teaching Sentinel a lesson about feelings.”

  “I see,” she replied, in a way that said she really didn’t. Dash just smiled as his stomach began unknotting itself.

  “Let’s talk about it back at the Forge,” he said. “Custodian is going to want this Dark Metal—and, after holding a freakin’ Golden missile in front of my face, I could use a glass or four of some of that plumato wine.”

  2

  Dash sipped plumato wine from a flask and watched as Custodian sized up the remains of the missile he’d brought back to the Forge. Articulated robotic arms lifted and turned it, while sensor clusters scrutinized it closely.

  “How can you stand to drink that stuff?” Viktor asked. “It’s much too sweet.”

  “I like things that are sweet,” he replied, though in truth the wine was a touch sweet.

  Leira grabbed the flask from his hand. “You’ve had enough.”

  “I’ve had a sip,” Dash said, then ran his tongue over his teeth. “Maybe two. Enough to realize we need to brew beer as well, anyway.”

  “But it’s powerful stuff,” Leira shot back. “What if the Golden attack right now while you’re two sips into, well, I’m not going to say a buzz, but you know.”

  “First, I am not altered by two large, albeit sweet sips of wine. Second, I do some of my best fighting while I’m two sips in. I mean, barroom brawls happen in bars, right?”

  “This isn’t a barroom brawl, it’s a battle to save all sentient life in the galactic arm, remember?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  Leira stuck out her tongue at Dash, but Custodian cut in as they both dissolved into grins.

  “If I may interrupt your charming but absolutely pointless dialogue, I can say with confidence that the Forge now has access to sufficient Dark Metal to complete the Swift.”

  “Perfect,” Dash said. “How long until it’s finished and ready to launch?”

  Another set of articulated arms appeared from the multitude hanging above them, grabbing the missile and carrying it toward the central forge for disassembly and smelting into components for the new mech. “It will take several days to complete the Swift, then another day to power it up and run thorough tests.”

  “That gives you another few days to get to know your new friend—Tyler, or whatever he’s called,” Viktor said to Leira.

  “Tybalt,” Leira replied. “And—yesss.”

  Tybalt was the name assigned to the AI that would operate the Swift, analogous to Sentinel and Custodian. Tybalt had apparently been retrieved from data storage and activated, so he and Leira could start getting to know one another. They hadn’t actually Melded, yet; that would happen once the Swift was completed and operational.

  “You do not sound impressed, my lady,” a new voice said, its tone stiff and formal. “I could take that as somewhat insulting.”

  “You take most things as being somewhat insulting, Tybalt,” Leira replied. “And I’ve told you, I’m not my lady. I’m Leira. Just Leira. My lady makes me sound like some character in a play.”

  “As I have noted, it is a term of deepest respect for humans of your gender.”

  “From a thousand years ago, sure.” She gave Dash an exasperated glance. “Did you have to go through this with Sentinel?”

  Dash seized on Leira’s distraction to snatch back the flask. “Nope. Sentinel never called me my lady, not even once.”

  Viktor actually chuckled at that, earning him a look from Leira. “Don’t encourage him.”

  “I would point out that a formal title is appropriate for one chosen to pilot such a magnificent construct as the Swift,” Tybalt said. “That is why your companion who pilots the Archetype is known as the Messenger.”

  “Even though I prefer Dash, though Messenger works,” Dash said, swallowing plumato wine. He winced as he did. Viktor was right, actually; it got cloying after a while. He stoppered the flask and put it down. “Don’t worry, you’ll soon get used to being called my lady.”

  “I don’t want to get used to it,” Leira snapped back. “Look, Tybalt, here’s my first order. I want you to call me Leira, got it?”

  “I will accept that as a placeholder until we can agree on a title suitable for your status.”

  Leira looked at Dash. “Didn’t I just say it was an order?”

  “You don’t really order these AI’s around,” Dash replied. “You have to treat them more like—partners.”

  “Partners. Great.”

  “Dash,” a new voice cut in. “Do you have a moment?”

  “Go ahead, Kai.” Dash hadn’t heard much from the monk who, along with his order, tended to work quietly away in the background of the Forge. They had a relatively deep understanding of the language and culture of the Unseen, gained from two centuries of laborious study of the alien race’s complex hidden beneath the city of Featherport, on the planet called Shylock. Even the knowledge Dash had gained through his Meld with the Archetype hadn’t given him the degree of awareness of the Unseen possessed by Kai and his fellow monks.

  That made the fact that they’d obtained it from nothing more than long, hard work all the more remarkable. It also made them perfect for teasing out whatever new information they could from the data archives of the Forge.

  “We have prepared a summary of our findings so far regarding the Unseen,” Kay said. “If you would care to join us in the third lounge, we’d be more than happy to present them to you.”

  “Sounds good,” Dash replied. “Leira, how about you stay here and keep getting to know your new best friend. Viktor, care to join me?”

  “Hey, I’d like to sit in on whatever new things Kai’s learned about the Unseen, too,” Leira said.

  Dash opened his mouth, but Tybalt spoke up first. “You will have ample opportunity for that, my—rather, Leira. I will ensure that you are fully briefed regarding whatever you need to know. In the meantime, Custodian and I have developed a simulator for the Swift to allow you to begin getting accustomed to its employment. Worry not, I shall guide you through every aspect of the process and not leave your virtual side in the meantime.”

  Leira gave Dash a desperate look and mouthed, Help me! Dash just chuckled, put his arm around Viktor, and led him away. As he did, he said, in a deliberate stage whisper, “Let’s leave these two alone for some quality time.”

  Dash could feel Leira’s glare on the back of his neck like the heat of a fusion drive.

  Dash stepped into the third lounge, so named because it was, quite literally, the third of the lounge facilities to which they’d been introduced by Custodian when they first toured the Forge. At least, it certainly seemed to be a lounge, with reasonably comfortable furniture and an expansive view of the nearby gas giant through deck-to-ceiling viewports. Whether the Unseen actually used it in a way they’d have recognized as lounge-like wasn’t clear, but Dash did rather like the idea of the mysterious aliens sitting about the place, chatting away about the latest gossip and drinking their own version of plumato wine. At the very least, it humanized them in his mind, making them seem a little less distant and enigmatic.

  “Kai, what have you got for us?” Dash asked, moving to a seat near the monk, Viktor sitting beside him.

  Kai had been joined by two of his brethren, as he called the others of his Order of the Unseen. The fact his entire order consisted of eight people didn’t seem to be an issue, nor did it seem to hold them back; despite their small size, the order had made huge strides filling gaps in their knowledge of the Unseen. So far, none of this new information had been especially profound. However, just as imagining the Unseen lounging around drinking and gossiping helped make them seem more real, and less ancient gho
sts, these little bits and pieces the monks had gleaned about them gave them a nuance and texture that brought them a little more to life.

  Kai offered a shrug. “We’ve discerned a number of new facts about the Unseen. Brother Cannus has been particularly focused on their social order and has some new insights to offer.” He gestured at one of his companions, who smiled and activated a small holographic viewer. It showed a three-dimensional star map, depicting about half of the galactic arm.

  “The Unseen appear to have developed a very egalitarian society,” Cannus began. “With little distinction between those who were leaders, and those who were led…”

  As Dash and Viktor listened, Cannus went on to describe various aspects of the Unseen social order—for instance, how leadership was determined by functional expertise, so that in a situation requiring detailed knowledge of astrogation, one Unseen well versed in the subject would be in charge; then, if things changed so that now it was, say, a good understanding of planetary evolution that was needed, another suitable Unseen would step up as the leader.

  Dash found it all very interesting—particularly since it suggested that the Unseen either had virtually no egos or were somehow able to simply put them aside in favor of whatever most benefited the group. By the time Cannus was done, it struck Dash that while it would all probably fascinate a whole generation of xeno-cultural researchers, it didn’t seem to offer anything to obviously assist in their fight against the Golden.

  It was a good theory, and great history, but they needed an edge.

  Viktor seemed to be thinking the same thing. “This is all very interesting, but to be frank, I’m not sure how we can use this information in any substantive way.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “That’s not to belittle the work you’ve put into this, but…”

  “But how does this help us now?” Dash finished.

  “It doesn’t,” Kai replied flatly.

  Dash blinked at that. “Oh. Okay then.”

  “What’s the point of it?” Kai said, then shook his head. “There is none—or, rather, none that’s of any obvious, immediate use. I don’t think the effort was wasted, by any means—”

  “No, of course not,” Dash said, giving Cannus the most encouraging smile he could. “We’re definitely not saying that.”

  “However, we recognize that such abstract information as this is probably better left to study after the Enemy of All Life has been defeated and we have the luxury of such academic pursuits,” Kai said. “And that, Dash, brings me to the point we really wished to discuss with you.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “I have spoken at length to Custodian, and we agree that, while the resources of the Forge are formidable, they are not limitless.”

  “It would be more correct to say that we do not know what the limits to those information resources are,” Custodian said, speaking up. “It is possible that large stores of information remain inaccessible.”

  “Which means that we need to keep doing whatever we need to do to power this station up,” Viktor said. “If we can get it working at a hundred percent, then we should have access to everything, right?”

  “That is true,” Custodian replied. “However, we do not know what everything includes. It may be a complete and comprehensive suite of knowledge about the Creators and everything they knew.”

  “Or it may not,” Kai said. “We literally don’t know what we don’t know.”

  Dash nodded. Despite the lingering taste of the plumato wine, he got what they were saying. The Forge might hold everything they needed—or it might not. But it wouldn’t be possible to know until they’d got it fully operational, by which time it might be too late to fill in crucial gaps. The maddening penchant for the Unseen to compartmentalize the crap out of their information raised its ugly head yet again. Dash glanced around the lounge, wishing he had one of the Unseen here right now, at whom he could shout, “Just open the gates. Stop it with the enigmas and half answers and hidden tech and give us what we need to defeat these Golden bastards.”

  Dash winced, realizing he’d actually balled up his fists in frustration. He made himself relax before Kai thought it was about him and his monks, and said, “So what are you suggesting, Kai?”

  “One of the things we learned about the Unseen from the archived data back on Shylock was that they maintained a redundant information store. We didn’t learn that until just a year or so before you arrived, so we’d been making plans to investigate it, but never actually did.”

  “From the description Kai has given of this facility, it would appear to be a major node in the Creator’s information network,” Custodian said. “It likely houses a substantial store of data, which you could almost certainly access more quickly than the time it will probably take to finish powering up the Forge.”

  “Where is this facility?” Viktor asked.

  “On a planet called Orsino, orbiting a much larger companion planet called Brahe.” Kai tapped at the little holo-projector, highlighting a particular star system. “If the information we need is anywhere, Dash, it’s there.”

  Dash leaned back in the chair. “Okay, then. I’m sold. Kai, you’d better pack your bags, because it looks like we’re going on a little trip.”

  3

  Leira’s attention snapped back to the Swift’s heads-up as a warning chimed, announcing another missile launch from the Golden ship. She immediately flung herself hard to one side, smiling as the mech’s powerful drive smoothly accelerated them in response to her body’s movements. It was, she thought, less like the barroom brawl analogy Dash liked to use to describe fighting aboard the mech, and more like dancing.

  Not that she’d ever been much of a dancer. Opportunities to hit the dance floor just didn’t come up very often when you were a courier jammed into some creaky little ship and trying desperately to stay ahead of your schedule. This, however, was nothing like that. There was no lag as a balky engine powered up in response to a hasty control input, no thrum of vibration, no teeth-rattling harmonics from a stressed-out fusion core. There was just movement. Leira moved, and the Swift moved with her—fluid, dynamic, powerful. Seamless.

  She watched the missiles racing in, tracking their progress as they conformed their trajectories to match, and then intersect her path and position. She noticed a growing spread between the trio of missiles now streaking toward her; they were attempting to hem her in, arranging themselves so that no matter which way she tried to dodge, she’d inevitably have to face a hit from at least one of them.

  The Golden missiles learned fast. Her smile fading, Leira eased off her hard-lateral acceleration, selected one of the missiles, and deliberately arced her way toward it. Sure enough, the other missiles changed their courses slightly, just in case she tried some hard, last-second maneuver like she had last time.

  I know they’re going to try to trap me. And they know that I know that. But I know that they know that I know that.

  Time stretched as the missiles continued their unerring flight, and Leira felt her breath catch as combat unfolded with her in the center.

  Holy crap, she thought. That might be one of the worst things about tangling with these Golden weapons. Unlike the conventional missiles she’d had to face as a courier, which had rudimentary AI at best, each of the Golden projectiles might as well have its own pilot on board—a pilot who was at least as smart as her, or perhaps even smarter.

  She drove on, directly toward the oncoming missile she’d chosen to confront. The others now angled again, converging on her; as soon as they became a threat she wasn’t comfortable having to confront, she threw herself to one side again as hard as she could. All of the missiles accelerated to compensate, just like she knew they would.

  …I know that they know that I know…

  Seconds from closure, she flung herself back toward her original course, guaranteeing that, at these velocities, one missile would score a direct hit, while the other two would miss by a gaping margin.

  Perfec
t.

  She prepped to fire the dark-lance, destroy the most immediately threatening missile, then swing hard about and try to pick off the other two before they could reverse course, and she’d have lots of time to do that—

  Fire the dark-lance.

  The Swift’s arms and hands and fingers flexed as she reached for the firing controls.

  Except there weren’t any.

  Shit.

  The dark-lance, she had to fire the dark-lance—

  Too late.

  The missile slammed into the Swift and detonated. The heads-up immediately faded, the starfield beyond it vanishing.

  Leira ripped off the VR headset and threw it aside. “Damn it!”

  “All of your actions were adequate,” Tybalt said. “Until, of course, they were not.”

  Leira stalked across the compartment she’d been using as a makeshift VR; the space suited her as a place to train with Tybalt. She’d removed everything except a table, which held some nutrient bars and two flasks—one of water, and one of Freya’s plumato wine. The latter was intended as a sort of celebratory treat for herself for when she finally mastered the control of the Swift. Although mastered had become a bar seemingly far higher than she could reach. She was aiming for competence and hoping for more.

  And she still hadn’t touched the wine.

  “Leira,” Tybalt said. “I assume you are frustrated—”

  “Damn right I am,” she snapped, pouring water. “I keep doing that, reaching for physical controls that aren’t there.”

  “That is because it is unnecessary—”

  “I know that.”

  “Then do not do it.”

  She took a sip of water. As soon as it hit her tongue, she realized just how parched she was and gulped down half of it. Dash had told her flying a mech could be quite a workout, and her desiccated mouth and dripping sweat confirmed it was. But that wasn’t the problem.

  “Look, this is overwhelming. It’s every sense, all at once.