“I’m doing great. Now let’s concentrate. We’ll have to brake soon so we can land.”
I used the familiar throttle controls. We wore ultra vacc-suits, heavily shielded against radiation. We’d soon need every bit of armoring against the black hole.
The trouble, as I saw it, would be waking Holgotha up to us. His subroutines were busy making his computations. What did an artifact of Holgotha’s magnitude think about during his many millennia of existence? I couldn’t comprehend. Then again, I didn’t think I had to. Instead, I would use imagination. That was the great human gift, right? Today, I’d have to employ it better than I ever had.
Commander Creed, the man with the golden tongue. Yeah, right, I didn’t see it, but I’d give it a go.
“It is time, Commander,” N7 radioed.
Twisting around so the nozzles pointed at the approaching surface, I engaged thrust. White hydrogen particles hissed from my pack. I began to slow down. The giant donut loomed even larger behind me. I could see it in my HUD. The last time I’d touched the ancient metal, I’d left the donut after having escaped Abaddon.
The good news, Holgotha hadn’t departed our solar system yet. We really had no idea how fussy the big thing would prove to be. In the Altair star system, the object had disappeared when the Starkiens and we assault troopers had approached too closely during combat. I’d never thought to ask the artifact when I had the chance why he’d done that.
Using even more thrust so my torso trembled, I lightly touched down onto the silver skin. Beside me, N7 did likewise.
I shut off my thruster-pack and began to undo the buckles and seals. Soon enough, I magnetized the propulsion system to the artifact.
With magnetized boots, I tramped my way toward the curve that would take me to the inner portion of the donut. N7 moved in his lurching step beside me. Magnetized walking always took some getting used to.
I saw a long trail of port exhaust up there in space. The hauler moved back from us.
Turning, I waved to N7. He waved back. We wore ultra-dense vacc-suits, carried many days of air with us, concentrates and water and a special system that would help to eliminate wastes. The gear was good, but none of that would matter if we failed to find a way to wake Holgotha to us.
“Ready?” I radioed N7.
“Let us proceed,” the android said.
It took a long time to walk around the curve, starting toward the black hole. Light couldn’t penetrate it. A ball of deepest darkness hung there in the exact center. I shuddered and wondered how well the ultra-suit would protect my bones and tissues from the deadly rays.
Strange script in golden letters highlighted the artifact’s inner surface. Then I spied them again; the low buildings huddled together. While back on the portal planet—in the exact center of it, to be precise—N7 and I had walked through the walls of one of the ancient buildings, bringing us to a place where Holgotha had communicated with us.
I imagined for a moment that Holgotha wasn’t a space artifact, but one of the Creator’s rings. Did a creator exit? Had aliens concocted the idea simply as a useless space religion? No. The artifact couldn’t be a ring. Why would the squat buildings be there then?
Once again, N7 aimed his faceplate at me. I tried radio reception. All I heard was harsh static on my earphones. Making an exaggerated shrug, I continued toward the buildings.
It’s hard not to get loopy with odd feelings while trudging on Holgotha’s inner surface. The artifact had been around longer than humanity had existed. Yet I walked along the surface. Beings called First Ones must have welded hull plates together. Could any of the builders have realized their machine would continue for such a vastly long age? It seemed doubtful.
In time, the squat buildings loomed before N7 and me. The highest stood two stories tall. There was nothing grand about them. Together, they looked little more than boxes of varying sizes shoved near each other. The streets were the same as the rest of the artifact’s surface. The buildings were dark, looking like chalk.
With my gauntlet, I rapped against a wall. The side felt like metal.
N7 pointed at a particular wall.
Chinning my headphones on again, all I heard was static. Here, the black hole was our enemy.
I turned my microphone on. “Holgotha,” I said. “There is danger in the solar system. We request a quick counsel session to learn your wishes.”
Nothing happened.
I banged the flat of my gloves against the wall. Once, the gauntlets had sunken through. Then I’d walked through a wall to the other side. It wasn’t happening today. Could the artifact even hear my words?
“Something attacks the Jelk Corporation,” I said into the microphone. “The Jelk have summoned Saurian fleets from our frontier to help them closer to the center of the galaxy. The balance of power is shifting around us. We need some help.”
N7 faced me. I looked around. This was such a bleak place. I felt lonely and more than a little useless. What would budge the artifact? I had no idea.
As I opened my mouth, I sensed a word in my mind. “Go.”
Did Holgotha communicate with me in some strange manner I didn’t understand? It seemed more than likely.
Seconds later, N7 tugged at one of my arms. I glanced at him. The android pointed toward the nearest edge. I had the feeling N7 wanted to go.
“No,” I said. “I’m not leaving.”
N7 tugged harder. I disengaged my arm from his grip. The android’s shoulders deflated.
“Holgotha!” I shouted, slapping my palms against a wall.
“Go now while you are able.”
The artifact seemed to be able to put thoughts into my mind. Holgotha possessed super-advanced technology. Maybe telepathy was one of its forms.
Stubbornly, I shook my head. The Shi-Feng had tried to kill me. Doctor Sant had pumped me full of poison. The Starkiens made a bid against us. And now, the Purple Tamika Admiral Saris had taken all but one of my warships. I needed this ancient machine’s cooperation.
“Holgotha,” I radioed. “You’re in Earth space. We’re down to one spaceship. I need to discuss your defensive situation with you.”
Fear hit me then. I cringed, wilting away from the building. A howl lodged in my throat. This was a terrible place. Ghosts must inhabit the artifact. What kind of fool had I been to return to this holy place?
Even as I felt this, I realized Holgotha must be manufacturing the emotions. The artifact beamed the feelings at me. I refused to let them sway me.
“Forget it, bud,” I said between clenched teeth. No machine was going to out-mule me. I drew a sidearm, one gained during the battle on the portal planet. Aiming at the wall—
“Wait.”
I hesitated. Had that done the trick?
On impulse, I put my free hand against the wall. It sank into the substance. A giddy sensation bloomed within my gut. Holstering the sidearm, I shoved my shoulder against the wall. Ever so slowly, I sank into it. Maybe I should have waited to see what N7 did. Instead, I pushed through the solid yet wavering wall. As if pushing against a raging stream, I fought my way through the material.
A few moments later, I staggered through into a small chamber. The walls gleamed white as brightness shined down from the ceiling.
I didn’t remember this place from last time. Then again, that had been over seven years ago.
A second later, something staggered against me. I turned around and found N7 couched low.
“You may remove your helmets.”
The words sounded muffled. They came from the vibrations of the farthest wall. Like last time, I thought of the trick as a super-larynx.
Hesitantly, I reached up and twisted. With a click, I removed my helmet. Chemically harsh odors made my nose twitch and me to jerk.
“What is the problem?” Holgotha asked.
“The odors in here are burning the inside of my nose,” I half-choked in reply.
“A moment,” the ancient artifact rumbled. “There. Is that be
tter?”
I sniffed experientially, expecting an even worse assault against my nostrils. Instead, a spicy scent made me sneeze.
“What is wrong now?” Holgotha said in his deep voice, the wall continuing to vibrate.
“Nothing,” I said. “Don’t mind me.”
“On the contrary,” the artifact said. “You have allowed me nothing less than to mind you.”
I glanced at N7. The android had removed his helmet, holding it in the crook of his arm. He appeared calm. I knew better.
“Do you have a place to sit?” I asked Holgotha.
A stretching noise heralded substance oozing up from the floor. The sight increased the unreality of this place. The moment the substance stopped stretching, I sat. My knees had become weak. I realized we had gravity in the room. My magnetized boots no longer worked on this floor. That was interesting.
“Hurry,” Holgotha said. “Tell me why you found it necessary to aim a weapon at one of the monitor stations.”
“Truthfully,” I said, “I aimed it out of frustration. Perhaps I also hoped it would get you to respond.”
“I am busy in my analysis,” Holgotha said. “This talk wastes time. Something I deplore.”
“I’m with you there,” I said. “That’s another reason I wanted to talk with you.”
“You are tedious, Commander Creed. I prefer your companion, N7.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said.
“Your inflection,” Holgotha said. “You mean to imply…a joke with that comment, do you not?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Explain your humor.”
“N7 is a machine. You’re a machine.”
For a time, Holgotha said nothing.
“You may have insulted him,” N7 whispered. The android had quietly moved up behind me.
“That is impossible,” Holgotha said. “I have passed far beyond threats from such as you.”
I filed it away that Holgotha viewed insults as threats. Was that a glitch in his communication program or something more troublesome?
“If you’re far beyond insults,” I asked, “why did you just stop talking a moment ago?”
“I am busy in my analysis,” Holgotha said. “This conversation is a waste of time.”
He seemed to be speaking like a machine, with conversational limitations. I realized we knew precious little about Holgotha or any of the other artifacts.
“I’m afraid it could get much worse for you,” I told the machine.
“Explain your statement.”
I told Holgotha about the Purple Tamika armada talking nine of our warships, leaving us defenseless.
“I fail to perceive why any of that matters to me,” the artifact said.
“There are several problems,” I said. “And they’re interconnected. Before I can explain them, I have to know why you fled the Altair star system eight years ago.”
“Fled implies fear,” Holgotha said. “I lack the sensation.”
“You don’t have emotions?”
“Do I sensate like a biological creature?” Holgotha asked. “In no way is that accurate. I have sensation centers that compel me in one direction or another. To forestall another spate of simian questions, I will inform you that my present perception is one of curiosity.”
“Concerning the Creator?” I asked.
“Among other factors, yes,” Holgotha said.
“And these curiosities are no doubt tied in with Abaddon and his Kargs.”
“That is incorrect.”
“Oh.” Did that mean my dream about Abaddon meant nothing? Would Holgotha automatically know if the Kargs had invaded our space-time continuum?
“Uh,” I said, “I still don’t understand why you left the Altair star system as the assault troopers and Starkiens closed in upon you.”
“Your implication is that I feared either species in some manner. To halt your chatter, I will inform you that I deplore Starkiens.”
“Do you have a reason?” I asked.
“It would be a non-sequitur if I did not.”
“What is the reason?” I said, “If you don’t mind me asking?”
The wall that had vibrated grew still. Finally, Holgotha spoke once more. “The Starkiens failed in a sacred charge. Namely, an artifact in their possession perished.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Just like humans,” Holgotha said, “Starkiens have simian inquisitiveness. They swarmed their object, testing, probing and questioning it. Finally, they tore into the subroutines and processing centers, attempting to understand Forerunner technology. In their quest, they destroyed what they did not understand. A machine of the ages perished while in their possession. A stellar-wide alarm pierced each of us. We understood. We altered our defenses, and we made the other races aware of the sacrilege. Since that moment, the Starkiens have become outcasts to the noble races. The others scoured Starkien planets, turning them into smoking cinders. The last of the artifact-destroyers took to the stars in their ships, a wandering remnant of those who would profane the works of the First Ones.”
“You have a pretty high opinion of yourself, don’t you?” I asked.
Holgotha said nothing.
“Perhaps we should leave, Commander,” N7 said.
“I second the suggestion,” Holgotha said. “Leave before I eject you.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “No one here suggests we’re going to try to probe you. One of the reasons I’m here is to tell you that the Starkiens made a play for you in our solar system. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“Of course I am aware,” Holgotha said. “The Orange Tamika Lokhar handled the situation in a salutary fashion.”
“Doctor Sant has left the solar system, stirring up rebellion in the Lokhar Empire. I’m wondering if a religious crusade has started in the Jade League.”
“War brews everywhere,” Holgotha said. “That is one of the signs of an approaching apocalypse.”
That was ominous sounding. Concentrate on the issue, Creed. Don’t let the artifact sidetrack you with rabbit holes. Right, I had to be like a pit bull, refusing to release my grip. Even so, the topic intrigued me enough to say:
“World War II didn’t bring the end of Earth,” I said.
“Your allusion escapes me,” Holgotha said.
“Just because everyone goes mad with battle fury, doesn’t mean God is going to show up and end existence. It means everyone has lost his cool. Now the blood is going to flow.”
“One of these times, it does mean the Creator will approach to judge existence,” Holgotha said. “That is one reason the Forerunners constructed us.”
“You really believe that?” I asked.
“I have no habit of lying, no programs to guide me in the dark art. I leave that to your kind, Commander Creed.”
The artifact’s insult helped clear my thoughts. I noticed the spicy scent had departed the room. In its place, I detected a faint body odor, my own leaking up from my suit. I sweated hard inside.
First clearing my throat, I said, “My point is the Starkiens came to the solar system. They might have wiped us out before swarming onto you.”
“I will not let Starkiens swarm me,” Holgotha said. I noticed his voice deepened as he spoke the words.
“You’d kill them?” I asked.
“That is not my way. No. I would depart.”
“But only after they wiped out humanity?” I asked.
“Why would that make any difference to me?”
“Don’t you care if humanity is wiped out?”
“No,” Holgotha said. “Many species have perished throughout the millennia. It is one of the natural processes of existence.”
I jumped up and began to pace within the small chamber. To give me room, N7 backed against a wall.
“Look!” I said. “Let’s make this mutual. You help us, and we’ll help you.”
“How can you possibly help me?” Holgotha asked.
“The lion s
houldn’t mock the mouse.”
“Explain your reference.”
I stopped in front of the vibrating wall. “A man named Aesop once told this old tale. A lion walked through the forest and happened to step on a mouse. The lion looked down, and opened its jaw to devour the tiny beast. The mouse squeaked, ‘Have mercy on me, O King. In time, I will return you a favor.’ The lion laughed. ‘What can a little mouse do for me?’ ‘Some day,’ the mouse squeaked. ‘You will find out.’ On a whim, the lion lifted its paw and watched the mouse scamper away.
“In the course of time,” I said, “the lion became ensnarled in a net. The king of beasts thrashed and struggled, all to no avail. As the moon rose and the lion waited for the hunter to come and kill him, a tiny mouse ran along the rope. ‘I have come as I said I would,’ the mouse told the lion. ‘You once showed mercy to me. Now, I will help you.’ As the lion watched, the little mouse gnawed the rope. Before dawn appeared, the last rope fell away, and the lion shook himself free. He thanked the mouse, glad he’d shown mercy when he’d had the chance.”
“The tale is supposed to stir me?” Holgotha asked.
“It should cause you to reflect,” I said. “In helping us survive, we might in some manner aid you in a time of need. How that would occur, I have no idea. As an extra benefit, if you aid us, you would also get to observe a desperate species taking on the entire galaxy.”
“Do not strain my computational innocence,” Holgotha said. “You are too few to take on anyone.”
“There you’re wrong,” I said. “If you provide the motive power, we’ll show you a spectacle such as none of you artifacts has ever witnessed.”
“This is vain boasting,” Holgotha said.
“You claim to have curiosity circuits,” I said. “In all your varied existence, don’t you long for something new to see?”
“There is nothing new under the stars,” Holgotha told me, as if he spoke a maxim.
“Have you ever spoken to someone like me?” I asked.
Holgotha said nothing. Time lengthened. Finally, the artifact said, “There was one like you long ago. It was during the last days of the First Ones, just before their disappearance. His rashness changed the complexity of the galaxy, causing the terrible loss of the Forerunners. We wondered if the Creator would appear to rectify the situation. During the next few centuries, we realized he had caused irreparable harm. Yes, I remember. He died brutally. Few mourned his passing. As I consider you, and given regular probabilities, you should have already died a vulgar death.”
Star Viking (Extinction Wars Book 3) Page 13
