“You are quite naïve, child,” Kyrios chided.
“I am no child.”
“Indeed you have grown quite strong, and yet--you are still as a child in the universe. Worship me, and I will bring your strength to fruition. Bow down before me and I will place the universe at your feet. Refuse and I will destroy you without so much as a second thought,” Kyrios demanded.
“I wish you no harm,” Li pleaded. “I only want to persuade Cain that he has no reason to hate me. We should work together to save a new life-energy, a lifeenergy that we are made from.”
The black crystalline entity moved closer. “There is no persuading Cain, as his heart is filled with hate and anger beyond depths you could possibly understand. Your only hope is with me. Bow down now! Worship me, or I will finish what Cain has failed, and destroy you where you stand!”
Li shook her head. “I cannot. I will not!”
With Li's denial, a crystal spire jetted from the entity within a split second, piercing her chest. She screamed and grabbed at the spire causing the black crystal to glow white under her grasp. Kyrios followed with a second spire straight for the center of Li’s forehead, but she turned and was pierced above her left eye. The pain was
overwhelming and her continued struggle and screams were followed by a brilliant flash of light, shattering Kyrios’s attack.
Kyrios howled in pain from the explosion of light and sight of the broken remains of his spires strewn about. Where Li once stood only a dimming afterglow remained.
*** Chichi ran in from the larger cavern straight to Anaua. “Momma, Momma, MOMMA! Where did Li go?”
“Oh holy Shola Rai, how should I know?” Anaua answered while continuing to wash Anali from a bowl of warm soapy water. “She is probably out searching the passages or in meditation, dear.”
Tears started to well up in his eyes. “No. She's gone--I can't feel her!” Chichi cried.
“Well of course not, dear. She isn't here today,” Anaua tried to console her little boy, and now her little girl Anali, as she was beginning to cry too.
Chichi fell to his face on a pile of thick fur skins in the main living space sobbing. “She's gone!”
***
Part 5
The lighting felt quite painful at first--beyond a brilliant white. Taking a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the vast difference in lighting from the much darker holding areas, Grafter was at last able to grasp his surroundings. The imagery felt dizzying, with all the strange fixtures at near half-size, more suited to the keepers than those they kept.
Junk crept in behind Grafter, squinting. “I don't see anyone, do you?”
“The room appears empty of our keepers.” Grafter stepped through the room hunched over to avoid the lower over-head. “Looks like a waiting area, with seating, lounging and table like structures, all so tiny.”
Drom stepped in behind Junk and slammed his forehead into an over-head lighting structure. He followed his loud grunt of pain with frustration, and tore the fixture, along with a few other components, from the ceiling in a shower of sparks. Several other lighting structures in the immediate area flickered and went dark.
“Thank you, Drom. That's much better--not so bright,” Grafter acknowledged.
Zed followed behind Drom and patted him on the shoulder in an effort to console him. Grafter led the way through the room, around a corner past several small rooms with more strange lounging facilities and into a long corridor. All four were careful to inspect every opening for keepers or anything else of interest. The lighting panels were much more sparse in the long corridor, tucked into the low-hanging ducts and pipes highlighting unfamiliar markings. Grafter tapped at the walls to confirm they were metallic in nature. There was a distinct drop in temperature along the corridor the further they walked.
“This doesn't make any sense,” Junk said, scratching at a spot on the back of his head. “It's as if they all just-left.”
“Zed,” Grafter called back. Zed scurried up to the front of the group. “Have you ever experienced anything like this before? The keepers just leaving like this?”
Zed’s eyes were wide and he shook his head. “No,” he grunted.
Junk took the lead and continued down the long corridor. There was a junction of passages ahead. “Which way?” Junk asked.
Grafter looked as far as he could. “I don't know.” He couldn't shake a sense of familiarity--something in the back of his mind, like an old memory. The facility had a structure very much like some of the lowest levels of Drelund. The most nagging of memories seemed like those from Cain and somewhere far beyond Drelund. Grafter wasn't sure if it was the deepening chill in the air, or those memories that made him shiver.
*** Azis2 cataloged the data array and prepared the visual sphere model for internal inspection. Roth was incensed that the Director would prefer Keja's analytical interpretations over his. After- all Roth had several hundreds of years of REIMD data collection and analysis archived for retrieval and reload prior to the 'incident.'
::Data sphere complete and ready for analysis,:: Azis2 announced. ::The 'incident' was not your fault.:: ::Anaua--that was HER fault,:: Roth stated. ::How could such a valued and experienced programmer allow such a faulty and dangerous object file to exist?::
::Anaua was obviously faulty as well,:: Azis2 assured. ::Now this object of Anaua's creation, C-AI-N--is as faulty,:: Roth continued his rant. ::Pull out the signature and location targeting data.::
::Data highlighted.:: An area within the data sphere glowed beyond that of the other background information.
Roth utilized his internal tools to pick and pull at the data and analyze the individual components. The AI was obviously flawed and a viable intrusion point should be available for access. ::Do a search for data entry points and Corporate protocol collection registries,:: Roth ordered.
::Searching--:: Azis2 complied. ::Data entry points are closed, and Corporate protocol collection registries are blanked. The AI is operating without Corporate protocols.::
::That is impossible! Recheck your findings!::
::Checking--original conclusion verified; data entry points are closed and there are no Corporate protocols listed in the system registries.::
::No Corporate protocols?::
::That information is verified.::
::Then what protocols are listed in the system registries and from where?:: Roth asked.
::None. There are no protocols in existence in the system registries,:: Azis2 explained.
Roth stared at the data sphere and the highlighted area, digesting Azis2's explanation. ::Anaua created an abomination! Clearly designed to operate outside of Corporate, in breach of all Corporate Security protocols and sanctioned operational obligations!::
::Anaua was a honored and prestigious AI
programmer,:: Azis2 added, defending the statement.
::I want a list of every AI program Anaua ever created and a current status of each,:: Roth demanded.
::She was an extremely prolific creator of Artificial Intelligence programming--the list will take some time to retrieve and cross-reference with current status,::Azis2 assured.
::No matter. Make it so,:: Roth ordered.
::Beginning list,:: Azis2 acknowledged.
Roth was certain Keja would never have thought of such action, and believed the Director would begin to realize her mistake in relying on such an over-rated analysis technician. Roth's obvious skills far exceeded the Director’s expectations, as well as the amateurish levels of Keja.
::Put a level one live trace on that abomination--feed the link through my personal work buffers. Inform me of any changes to any data entry points. Have all shutdown codes standing by. I will break that AI!::
::Implementing level one live trace. Shutdown codes are standing by,:: Azis2 affirmed.
*** An alert sounded as soon as the level one trace hit the outer routing nodes to the Proxima Centauri system. Cain safely routed the tracer through an analyzer buffer of his own c
reation within his necklace sensors. The tracing packets were disabled, dissembled, inspected, reassembled and without further hesitation, returned to sender with an additional packet instruction containing a high-level energy pulse.
“Bleed,” Cain murmured with a smirk.
*** “Food,” Junk affirmed with a sniff down one of the passages.
“Rotted,” Grafter assured after taking a sniff of his own.
“Aged! Meat cooked enough is still good enough to eat,” Junk argued as he headed in the direction of the growing odor. “Besides, the area is cold enough, everything should be fine.”
Drom and Zed held their noses and followed, staying well behind Grafter and Junk. After several paces and a bend to the left, the corridor opened up into a large room. The source of the odor was piled near an over-flowing container--dead Earth humans. The bodies where awaiting disposal pickup.
Junk ran over to see what might be scavenged for a meal. Drom and Zed stayed well back in the corridor, refusing to enter the larger room. Grafter understood Junk’s enthusiasm. The people of Drelund valued the meat of their deceased family members and feasted upon it with celebration. Nothing was ever wasted. The people of the Dunes had no appreciation for the practice, and held ceremonies of honor and instead, buried their dead before decay; nothing was reused. Here, the keepers neither reutilized the dead nor held them with any reverence or honor; they were thrown away in a waste pile.
Junk reached the pile first, searching for suitable portions, when Grafter noticed he had stopped, then dropped to his knees. He walked up from behind and peering over Junk, recognized an arm in a familiar shirt and over-coat. Grafter felt all the air leave his lungs at once, as his knees buckled and he fell next to Junk. Junk moved a body to expose the corpse they recognized. He slumped further down to his knees, his head sunk to his chest.
“Digger--” Grafter uttered with what little air was left in his lungs. He wished he could take that 'utterance' back as soon as he spoke, as though that might bring Digger back. His eyes flooded with tears and streamed down his face soaking his beard.
Junk's face was also soaked with tears, as he held his friend's ice-cold hand, sticking out from the pile. “I told you not to fight--I begged you,” Junk whispered under his breath, choking back more tears.
The pain on Junk’s face matched the pain Grafter felt deep inside and he put his arm around Junk. “This is all my fault. I should have never taken you two with me-away from Drelund!”
Junk shook his head, continuing to stare at Digger's remains. “We both would have been killed by Dravon long ago had we stayed. Being with you has always been a privilege and an honor.” Junk wiped his face with his sleeve.
Grafter had a sudden realization. He had spent all this time searching for his lost scion, using Digger and Junk in that pursuit, and again since leaving Drelund they demonstrated their constant devotion and loyalty--he now felt this loss as if Digger were his own scion. Grafter took Junk with both arms and held him tight--an action he had long reserved for the reunion with Tayl--now an affirmation of a new-found scion.
*** Azis2 acquired the returning level one live tracer and noticed the additional anomalous packet. The threat was recognized but only partially diverted in time. Roth screamed in pain, and clutched at his head, while Azis2 redirected the remaining larger portion of the energy pulse to external buffers. The communications links in Roth's workspace exploded in a shower of sparks.
Technicians and other Corporate Security agents ran into the room at the sound of Roth's screams, to find him sitting on the floor, looking a little dazed, while sparks showered down around the room. Murmuring among the crew grew louder as more stared at the dark red biofluid flowing from Roth's nose and ears--not a common sight.
::I have detected possible internal hemorrhaging! I am sending for a medical team immediately,:: Azis2 announced, as no one else appeared to have a clue as to what to do.
“GET OUT!” Roth shouted, realizing he had become an
unwanted spectacle.
*** Try as they might, Grafter and Junk could not find a way to prepare and cook any meat from Digger to honor his death in the tradition of Drelund. All they could do was a small ritual they had learned from a cult called the Krixmen, living near the people of the Dunes. The Krixmen cult, through hand gestures, simulated eating the body and drinking the blood of their dead. In this way, the dead were honored while passing into the afterlife.
Junk had pulled Digger from the pile of bodies and leaned him upright against a bulkhead. After crossing their chests and head with a final Krixmen hand gesture, Grafter and Junk completing the ceremony by closing Digger's eyes and covering his face with his overcoat.
Drom and Zed had approached with pensive curiosity. Junk could see Zed scanning the pile, as though searching for something or someone lost.
“Many...” Zed said. Junk nodded, numb with agreement.
Grafter realized he and Junk may have been selfish in their grief, and motioned everyone near the large pile of bodies. Drom was hesitant but Zed understood Grafter's meaning and coaxed the big man over. Grafter started the gestures of the Krixmen ceremony once more, this time directed toward the large pile. Junk helped Drom and Zed with the hand motions. Crossing their heads and chests in the final ceremonial gesture, they all stood in silent reverence.
After what felt like an appropriate amount of time, Grafter broke the silence. “If we have any hope to save the others here from this fate, we've got to find a way out of here.”
Zed pointed at the large hatch in the over-head above the bodies, several paces high, with no access from below. “Up?”
Junk nodded and pointed at a stairway on the far side of the room past the bodies. “That goes up.”
“Up--generally is a good thing,” Grafter answered, trying to keep a positive attitude.
The stairway led to a small hatch-type door, which in turn led into a stairwell that made several turns. The stairs were tiny and the over-head was short, causing everyone to stoop over as they worked their way to the top landing. Another small hatch led out into a very large place, easily several hundred paces deep and wide, as well as several hundred paces to reach the overhead. The structure where they exited, appeared to be part of a large mechanical operations housing, Grafter guessed was connected with the large hatch in the floor, leading back down.
The immense space was brightened by a long source of lighting on one of the far bulkheads, several hundred paces away. Grafter took a brief look around the large hatch and assumed mechanical housing, then led the way to the lights. Everyone followed without a word. As they walked, Grafter began to understand more of what he was seeing. There were large structures off in the distance, setting on three sometimes four smaller, thinner structures that reminded him of the strange flying craft that came down from the sky before he, Digger and Junk were captured. More memories from the entity, Cain, helped to explain that these structures were, indeed, mechanical flying craft.
As they continued, Grafter noted they were still very much alone. No keepers to be seen anywhere. Closer still, they all could see that the lighting was actually large windows with illumination streaming in from outside of the strange facility. The immensity of the facility became even more apparent as they reached the bulkhead and had to climb tiny ladders several paces up to a small walkway to the bottom of the windows. Once they got there, all any of them could do was stare in disbelief. The surrounding grounds and hills were all desolate, devoid of both life and color--only dust, sand and rocks of various blinding shades of gray.
Junk was first to force out his thoughts, as though they were painful to even say. “What's wrong with this place? The sky is BLACK!”
*** “LI!” Kutch sat up from a deep sleep, not sure he had spoken out loud. He looked around the shuttle to see if he had disturbed anyone else with his outburst. Reed was asleep in a reclined seat, and Kutch couldn’t determine whether Toolkit was asleep, awake, happy, sad or anything, with his strange implan
ts for eyes. The other Elvonian passengers were unaffected.
“Awake?” Alex asked as she sauntered over with a hot drink she hoped would help dismiss the sheer boredom from such a long flight.
“I guess. I'm just feeling anxious,” Kutch admitted. “I know the feeling. Want something hot?” Alex offered.
“No thanks. I think I'm just really missing Li. It's been a long time since I've seen her in person. Feels like I'll never see her again.” Kutch sat back trying to relax.
“Don't be silly. We're almost half way there now--just over fifty-two hours,” Alex assured as she sat next to Kutch.
“I haven't heard from her dream messages in months--what if something is wrong?”
“Stop worrying, everything will be all right. We'll all have a good visit before we go back to see Proto. We have a lot of questions to be answered in the archives. We need you to be able to focus on that.”
“I know, I know. She just feels--gone,” Kutch closed his eyes and tried to sleep again.
***
Novia had a knot in her stomach and the gathering of concerned friends outside didn't help. If Li had expected to stay out in the passages all night, or at her special crystal meditation chamber, she would have been sure to let Novia know. Something was wrong and the others appeared to be aware too.
Damus walked up the path to find a small crowd. Ayden and Anaua, along with their two children, both crying beyond control, along with four of the outsiders, the Elvonians. He decided best to wait his own turn. Novia stepped out and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders to greet them all.
“We have news and...questions,” Presley1490 stepped up first, while the other Presleys hung back.
Chichi would have none of staying back waiting and broke from his mother's arms. “LI IS GONE!”
Birth Of A Goddess Page 20
