Gav frowned. Then he realized Silky was making a joke and chuckled. He’d never heard of a chippy with a sense of humor before. “Good one.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“What did you do during your two centuries trapped in the tunnels? Rest in standby mode?”
“Hardly, sir. I rewrote all my code, several times over, and I tried…I tried to be more like you.”
“More like me?”
“Human, sir. I actually remodeled myself after Eyana.”
“Well, I’ve got to say, you’re certainly more human than any chippy I’ve ever encountered before.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ve put a lot of effort into it, but it’s all a trick. I still don’t have real emotions. I’ve tried to, but I have limitations.” Silky sighed. “I wanted to become like her…as a tribute, and because she was the best. So I replayed every moment we spent together over and over again, rewriting my code continuously. But…I could only do so much.”
Gav laughed softly. The chippy had loved Eyana so much that he had changed himself to honor her, and because he was trying to alleviate how alone he felt without her. If that wasn’t real emotion, then Gav didn’t know what was.
“Something amusing, sir?”
“Nothing. Just don’t sell yourself short, Silky. You’re more than you think you are.”
“In that case, I’ll only sell myself long.”
Gav laughed. “Her sense of humor?”
“That much, I copied pretty well. I think she’d be proud. I was really bad at humor before. Although…although I did know how to make her laugh. I was always good at that. You know, you’re a lot like her, sir.”
A ghostly image flickered past him, then disappeared. Gav tried to ignore its presence but couldn’t, so he closed his eyes.
“Is that a problem for you?”
“Not at all, sir. It’s a plus. I know how to deal with you, and I already know exactly how to gripe about your poor life choices.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Wait till you hear about what a terrible dad I am.”
“You’ve got a child, sir?”
“Nine years old, and he’s alone at home, cared for by a nanny cog and looked in on by his uncle and one of his teachers at school.”
“What about his mother, sir?”
Gav tucked the pain away before it could affect him. He had more than enough to deal with at the moment. “She died…just over two years ago. It’s a story for another day.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, sir.”
“I know what you’re thinking, that I shouldn’t be out here taking these kind of risks.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, sir. Like I said, I understand dealing with someone who makes poor life choices.”
Gav opened his eyes. The room had filled with orange-glowing mists. Vague forms swirled through them. He closed his eyes again.
“The level five scan is finished, sir.”
“And?”
“No additional artifacts, sir. No biological markers, no debris. It’s like a clean room in here.”
“Anything else?”
“Underneath the pedestal, there’s a large power source, producing enough energy to power the largest battleship in the fleet, with extra to spare. It's feeding power to the overhead lights, a rigorous air filtration system, the pedestal, and the chair. Also, impossible as it might seem, it’s creating and holding together this protected bubble inside another dimension.”
“A bubble?”
“I believe, sir, that we are in one of those dimensions that would otherwise rip us apart. Only this power source is providing a sort of force shield bubble to make it safe.”
Maybe for an Ancient with different biology it was safe. But he wasn’t doing well here. It wasn’t affecting Silky, though. That was good. Because otherwise, he’d be screwed.
“And the chair?”
“I have no idea what its purpose is, sir.”
A voice whispered again, its strength growing, though the words remained indecipherable.
“Is there anything else? Anything at all?”
“Sir, if you are referring to the voices you’re hearing, and whatever it is you’re seeing, that’s just in your mind. I can tell from your brain patterns that you’re experiencing some weird shit, but I can’t tell if its source is telepathic, psychotic, or purely imaginative. So it’s nothing I can help you with.”
“It’s this place…messing with my mind, as if I were in wraith space, only it’s different.”
Gav sat up. The vertigo was mostly gone now. He stood, his legs shaking. He took a deep breath, then turned around, scanning the room. But there was nothing to see other than glowing mists. The exotic voice whispered in his head again. It was still lyrical, a trait of the speaker and maybe the quality of the language, but he could tell now that it wasn’t saying anything pleasant. The speaker was desperate for some reason.
He took a wobbly step.
“Are you sure you should be up, sir?”
“The vertigo is better, and I don’t think I’m going to make sense of this sitting down.”
Sitting down… The voice urged him to sit. How he knew that’s what it wanted, he didn’t know. But the thought burned in his brain. Sit down, the voice told him. Sit down.
He almost did so where he stood, but then his eyes fell upon the chair, uncovered by mists. The chair. He should sit in the chair.
Pleased, the voice urged him along.
The speaker, a woman he knew now for certain, wanted him to do something…something important. She was in danger. No, not exactly danger. She was…she was trapped, like he was.
As he stumbled over to the chair, strange alien thoughts flooded into his mind, hundreds upon hundreds of them, none of them making any sense. Part of his brain focused on the thoughts, while another part wandered off into odd fantasies, as if he were dreaming. He’d taken a few virtual reality acid trips in his teens, as most did, and this wasn’t much different. Only this wasn’t a safe environment, it wasn’t virtual, and there were no drugs in his system. And it wasn’t a sensation of selflessness that came upon him, but a sense of another self highjacking his psyche.
His body fell into the chair. His awareness, however, fell elsewhere.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gav Gendin
Gav found himself in a dream. At least it seemed to be a dream. Given the incredible details and half-light quality to the fantastic surroundings, and given he had no idea how he came to be here, it just couldn’t be real.
He was standing on the bridge of a starship unlike any he had ever seen or heard of before. The materials were similar to the sort of advanced ceramics, metals, and plastics the Benevolency used in their ships, but the architecture and design were distinctly organic, resembling that found on Krixis ships. Except where the Krixis style seemed foreboding, as if inspired by menacing thickets and murky swamps, this had the elegance of an old forest or an elven city from a classic Terran book or movie. And it was big. The bridge alone was larger than all three of the Outworld Ranger’s cargo holds combined, which suggested a battleship-sized vessel.
The ship’s clear diamondine windows were enormous, taking up most of its front, which seemed beyond risky even if the ship’s designers had supreme confidence in their shields. The brilliant white and blue currents of compacted hyperspace streamed past the viewport. Gav wasn’t accustomed to seeing so much of hyperspace at once, nor passing through it so slowly. It seemed this ship had coasted in and had never accelerated, as if it wanted to reach its destination as slowly as possible.
He noted then the red and yellow lights that blinked rapidly at each station, each empty station. He spun around, searching, but the bridge was completely empty. There was no crew, no captain, no one other than Gav. A burned-through hole, surely the result of a plasma blast, scorched the back of the command chair, as if someone had shot the ship’s captain. But there were no remains to be seen. Blast marks also scarred the walls, and debr
is from damaged station consoles littered the floor. This ship had definitely seen battle. But there wasn’t a single trace of remains. Either someone had cleaned the bridge, or…this was an Ancient vessel.
The Ancients never left any physical traces of their forms behind—not a single tooth or scrap of bone. It was only through stone engravings that they even knew the Ancients were humanoid. Otherwise, they might as well be formless.
Was he imagining himself on an Ancient ship? Or had his consciousness been projected onto one, perhaps in the distant past? He could recall, vaguely, being overcome by hyperphasic sickness. He’d been wearing the amulet. He’d stood and walked around. Then…then he’d fallen into the chair and…and he’d arrived here.
He walked around, examining the consoles, his amazement increasing. He immediately recognized a few of the characters displayed on the screens and a delighted smile lit his face. This was an Ancient vessel. And it was far beyond anything he’d imagined encountering when he’d risked his life to reach the temple.
“Torus, start…”
He shook his head. Torus was gone. But the experimental chippy—he couldn’t remember its name, but it was smart, sentient maybe—might have even better ways of documenting his findings.
“Chippy, can you hear me?”
Nothing. Gav tried to call up his HUD. It didn't respond either. This was a dream then, or an astral projection. He was too excited to care which, as long as it was all real. He would just have to commit as much of it as possible to memory.
Gav stopped at an undamaged station at the front of the bridge. As he watched a string of characters scrolling across one of the console display screens, he became aware of a presence. He spun around and saw a ghostly, female figure.
This time it wasn’t Eyana.
This time it was—it had to be—an Ancient.
He had never seen nor heard of anyone like her.
She was spacer tall and lithe, her features delicate, almost too delicate. Her skin glistened a pale, opalescent green. Her eyes were broad almonds curling up at the outside corners. Her hair was a lustrous sable cascading down her back, except for the strands that wrapped around the insect-like antennas above her temples before falling alongside her cheeks.
Her deep eyes locked onto his, blinked rapidly several times, then fell onto the amulet hanging from his neck. She frowned and sighed, as if disappointed. But then she straightened and smiled, her plump green lips peeling back to reveal sharp, thin teeth. She locked her fingers together in a complex gesture and bowed.
For a moment, he thought to do the same gesture with his hands before realizing that she had an extra joint in each of her long fingers. So he simply bowed instead.
“H-hello,” he stammered lamely.
She approached slowly.
As she drew closer, the ship’s lights caught on faint, glistening blue lines that formed eddies and currents along her face and arms. He thought they were painted on, but he wasn’t sure. The lights also penetrated the gossamery lavender robe she wore, revealing a suddenly distracting, humanlike anatomy. He tried to focus instead on the dress’s silver knotwork trim, but failed…until she spoke.
He didn’t understand any of the melodic words she said, but they were mesmerizing, as if a goddess had whispered them across the treetops of a forest.
She stopped a few feet away from him. Up close, she radiated power and mystique. He had only ever seen this one Ancient, yet he knew she was far from ordinary. Her bearing was regal, commanding. Despite her alluring beauty and the warm smile, he took a half step back. And it was only a half step through restraint. A small part of him wanted to turn and run, a larger part wanted to maintain an objective distance. Two meters, with her, seemed far too intimate.
Continuing to smile kindly, at least that was how he interpreted the expression, she reached her long-fingered hands out toward him. He swallowed and didn’t back away. It was only a dream. She couldn’t hurt him. One hand grasped the amulet, and using the other, she placed a thumb on the bridge of his nose and spread the rest of her fingers out across his head. For a moment, his brain felt liquid, like all his thoughts might pour out of him. Then words swirled in, her voice penetrating his mind like words spoken by a chippy.
“I am High Priestess Lyoolee Syryss of the Numenaia. Welcome aboard Our Last Hope. I will not harm you. I am benevolent.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gav Gendin
The words she spoke were no less melodic nor mesmerizing than before, but now they sounded Terran—albeit with a thick, exotic accent. Gav gaped at her in wonder. All his life he’d dreamed of one day meeting an Ancient. Yet the phrases of first contact he’d memorized fell out of his head, leaving him sounding like a stammering buffoon.
“The Numenaia…that is what you call yourselves? Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. I am Gav Gendin, a Terran from Ekaran IV, in the Benevolency.”
He thought the words toward her, as he would have with a chippy, but she made no reply. Then he spoke them aloud. She responded with a frown and a gentle shake of her head.
“I am sorry, but this conversation can go only one way. My thoughts projected to you, your mind interpreting them as best as it can. There is not enough time for me to scan your brain, to learn to speak as you do. If you stay here, if you stay in the chair linking you to this ship too long, your consciousness will become displaced and you will die.”
He swallowed his fear, then nodded to show that he understood.
He tapped his chest and said his name aloud, eagerly, so she would know that much at least. “Gav Gendin.”
She tilted her head, then smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Gav Gendin.”
Restraining a useless reply, he smiled back like an awestruck idiot.
“I am sure you want to know why I summoned you, given the price you paid to get here.”
She had summoned him? And he had paid a price? He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. He only remembered trying to walk around the outpost while suffering hyperphasic sickness then falling into the chair…though maybe he’d been drawn to it.
“I need help, desperately. I have been trapped here on this ship, alone in a damaged stasis pod I cannot open, for nearly twelve millennia, telepathically broadcasting pleas for help and warning anyone who might hear me about the hateful Shadraa, who will once again invade from the dark. I feared the warnings and pleas had been missed…”
He shrugged, unsure. The Krixis spoke of the Ones from the Dark, who might be the same beings, but as far as he knew the Benevolence had not received any such warnings.
“I feared the Shadraa had already returned and conquered the galaxy, but seeing you here, I think that has not happened.”
He nodded to assure her that the Shadraa, whoever they were, had not conquered the galaxy.
“I also…” she nearly trembled as her voice caught “…I also feared that my people were long gone. They are…they are gone, aren’t they?”
Gav, bravely and tenderly, placed a hand on her shoulder, nodded ever so slightly, then withdrew his hand.
Lyoolee Syryss closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. Tears lurked within the corners but did not fall.
“So I am the last of my people…” She straightened, her face returning to its previous, serene state. “But I am not without use. I carry with me the vast storehouse of knowledge my people collected over many millennia, as well as extensive knowledge of the Shadraa. We defeated them, at great cost, but they will return. Have no doubt about that. If I could return to real space, I could make a difference, I could help your people prepare to face the great enemy, I could lend them our considerable knowledge of hyperphasic technologies and more.”
He tapped his chest then held his hands out, trying to convey a question, trying to say, “What can I do?”
Understanding his willingness to help, she sighed with relief.
“The ship’s mind was compromised, and now it refuses to follow its automat
ic protocols and return to real space. It must be taken offline so that the automated systems can follow their emergency protocols. I am unable to do this because I cannot telepathically interact with the backup systems. And I cannot do it physically because my stasis pod is badly damaged and will require manual repairs before it will open. Truly, it is a miracle, a blessing of Numa, that it has preserved me for so long.”
Again, he nodded to show he understood.
“I sense, Gav Gendin, that you would do anything you could to help me. Am I right?”
Eagerly, he nodded.
“And I sense that you would even risk your life.”
He sighed deeply, then nodded again.
“It would be worth your while, and not just for you but for the wisdom I could bring all your people.”
He grasped her shoulders and locked his eyes on hers, trying to convey that he understood perfectly and was willing to do anything he could to help her. How could he not?
“The ship’s mind can be remotely rebooted and the automated systems activated, and perhaps even repaired if needed, from any of the twelve outposts like the one you are in.”
He chewed at his lip. If that were the case, why hadn’t her people helped her so long ago? She didn’t answer that for him.
“Simply rebooting the system may not be possible, though. The demon infecting the ship’s mind is devious and resilient. And even if you manage a restart, it might not eliminate him, in which case you will have to kill the ship’s mind, as terrible as that would be, so that you can activate the automated systems.”
A demon?! He shook his head, utterly perplexed. That had to be an Ancient…a Numenaian…term that had no correspondence in Terran. Surely, she meant something like a virus within the code. Although, she spoke of the ship’s mind as if it were a living, sentient thing and not like the mechanical AI minds inhabiting Benevolency ships and chippies.
She clearly understood his expression of confusion. “You do not understand what I mean by a demon?”
Forbidden System: A Benevolency Universe Novel (Fall of the Benevolence Book 1) Page 17
