by J. N. Chaney
“Wait until we’re in the air near the pit,” I told him. “I think that’s something I’d like to see.”
* * *
“Engines are primed and ready,” said Alphonse, once we arrived at the landing pad. He was standing beside the ship, while Verne had taken a seat inside.
“You didn’t waste any time,” I said, climbing in and taking the pilot’s seat.
“I knew you’d want to leave as soon as you arrived,” Alphonse replied.
I tossed the mobile emitter on the dash, allowing Sigmond to appear. “Ah,” said the Cognitive, stretching out his arms and giving us a wave. “Good morning to all of you.”
“Go ahead and get those drones in position, Siggy. I want them ready the second we arrive.”
“Of course, sir,” he answered.
“Hello everyone,” said Verne, a hint of nervousness in his voice. He already had his harness locked over his chest but continued to fiddle with the lock.
“Good to see you again,” said Abigail, sitting beside him. Dressler and Octavia took the rear row, behind them, while Alphonse sat beside me up front.
“I-If you don’t mind me asking,” began Verne.
“You want to know how Petra is doing,” said Octavia.
He nodded.
Dressler pulled her harness down and locked it. “She’s doing well, all things considered.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Haven’t you gone to see her?” asked Octavia.
“One time, but she was asleep,” said Verne, somewhat sheepishly.
“She’s awake now,” said Dressler.
“Doc, aren’t you gonna tell him the news?” I asked, placing my hand on the control pad. There was a slight jerk as our thrusters ignited and we lifted off the pad.
Verne looked around the cabin. “News?”
“We attached a new prosthetic,” explained Dressler with a seemingly unimpressed tone. “Though, it will take a few days before we know if her body will accept the new nerve connections permanently or—”
“There you go again,” I interrupted, shaking my head.
Dressler paused before continuing. “Yes, well,” she said. “I suppose there is cause for optimism.”
“Are you saying she has a new arm?” asked Verne.
“A working one,” said Abigail. “I haven’t seen it, but Jace says Petra can move her fingers and joints, even feel when she touches something.”
His eyes widened. “That’s incredible!”
Dressler sighed. “That sort of enthusiasm is why I was less inclined to talk about it. If her body rejects the arm, you’ll only be disappointed.”
“But if the arm is attached and working, isn’t that a good sign?” asked Verne.
“Perhaps,” said Dressler. “But it takes a few days for the limb to fully integrate. There is a decent chance her body rejects the prosthetic altogether.”
“Stop assuming the worst, Doc,” I said, bringing the ship above the city and towards the horizon. “It’s not a good look for you.”
She scoffed but said nothing.
We reached the ocean quickly, which meant we had a solid hour before we arrived at the chasm. Not a long wait, but it gave me a chance to go over a few things. First, I checked in on the video feed beneath Verdun. Sigmond gave me a quick trilobite headcount, which indicated an additional five of the little terraforming bots had gathered during the night.
Alphonse leaned in to look at the holo image of the growing mob of terraforming machines. “That’s concerning,” he muttered.
“Worst case scenario, we move to another block,” I said.
“Do you think they’ll follow?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “They’re only gathering beneath Verdun, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence. They must know we’re there, somehow.”
“Which concerns me even more,” said Alphonse.
“Oh?” I asked.
He tapped his chin. “If Dr. Dressler’s report is accurate, then the sensors on each of the machines is limited to four meters, approximately. For them to somehow sense our presence in Verdun—it begs the question. How?”
Sigmond placed his arms behind his back in a thoughtful manner. “There must be more to their abilities than we first surmised,” said the Cognitive.
“Any theories?” I asked the two of them.
“There are two, as far as I can tell,” said Alphonse. “Either the trilobites have another sensor which is far more sophisticated than the one we already discovered—”
“Or?” I asked.
He raised his brow. “They’re using something else entirely.”
Something else?” I asked, looking at Sigmond, then back at him. “What do you mean?”
“A larger sensor, perhaps located somewhere else on the planet. Something that can detect living matter, whether on the surface or on one of the elevated cities. Something we don’t know about yet.”
“What about outside manipulation?” I asked.
“Manipulation?” repeated Alphonse.
“What if they’re being controlled by someone?”
Alphonse was quiet for a moment. “That is a possibility.”
“You don’t agree?” I asked.
He gave a light shrug. “It’s impossible to know, isn’t it? We don’t have the evidence to support any of this, one way or the other.”
I nodded. “Guess we’ll just have to stay on guard until we find the real answer.”
“As always, Captain,” agreed Alphonse.
The flight took us across multiple sets of islands, each one resembling the last—an isolated spot of dirt and stone, lifeless and bare. It wasn’t until we reached the target continent that I noticed movement on the ground from the occasional wandering trilobite. I wondered what purpose they still had, given the state of the world. The Earth was nothing but a corpse, trying to regrow its flesh, so what good did all these parasites do for it? What reason did they have to still exist?
Whatever the answer might be, I intended to find out.
We reached the chasm to find the drones already waiting in the air. They’d sit there as much we needed before proceeding into the pit, but I didn’t plan on waiting very long.
“Go ahead with it,” I told Sigmond as soon as we were in viewing distance of the other ships.
“Understood, sir,” said the Cognitive. He disappeared from the dash, quickly replaced with a hologram of what we had already mapped of the chasm.
Four red dots appeared above the pit on the holo. “Are those the drones?” asked Abigail.
I turned around. “Siggy’s sending them down right now.”
“Finally,” said Dressler. She pulled out a pad from her pack, illuminating her face with the light from her lap.
“What do you have there?” asked Octavia.
“I had Sigmond relay the same feed to this device,” she explained. “If you have a pad, you should be able to receive the feed.”
Octavia and Abigail both retrieved one from beneath their seat. “Well, look at that,” said Abby.
The first drone dove straight into the pit, blinking as it descended through the first section we’d previously explored. This time, however, Sigmond had full control and knew the route ahead of time, allowing the drone to move much faster, avoiding the walls. It accelerated to nearly four kilometers per hour, according to the readout.
The holo followed it, leaving the others behind and showing the path ahead. After only five minutes, the drone began to decelerate, finally coming to a full stop at the center of the chasm.
“The drone’s signal limit is nearly reached,” explained Sigmond.
“Activate the repeater,” ordered Dressler.
“Right away, Doctor.”
A thin, red circle formed around the dot, which I took to indicate the repeater had activated.
“The second, third, and fourth probes are en route,” said Sigmond.
We watched the first orb remain completely still while
the others proceeded into the pit.
Since it was going to take them several minutes to get there, I decided to check out the nearby walls inside the chasm to see whether or not the trilobites were reacting.
The feed swept across the interior, showing dozens of the little machines moving in various directions. None of them seemed to take any notice of the drone, though, which had to be a good sign.
I spotted multiple entry points the trilobites were using to come and go inside the wall, letting them disappear back into the ground whenever they liked. If this mission didn’t work, the next one might involve an attempt to manually map those tunnels using some kind of miniature drone, much like what we were doing now. It was something I’d discussed with Dressler and Sigmond but decided against, at least for the time being. It presented its own share of problems, but when you’re out of options, you just don’t have a choice in the matter.
I shook my head, trying to clear my mind of those concerns. Wait until the first job falls apart before you start planning the second, I reminded myself. Focus on the now.
The other drones arrived in due time, passing the first and continuing their descent into the darkness. The holo followed the one in the lead, allowing the original red dot to fade away as it reached the peak of the display.
It didn’t take the automated machines long to find the place we’d stopped the first time through. I recognized the rockface here as soon as they reached it—the cliff Alphonse had accidentally hit with his ship and displaced the trilobite, along with the spot Abigail and I had stopped. “Here we go,” I said, anticipation filling my chest. “Let’s see what’s next.”
“Proceeding forward,” announced Sigmond.
The drones continued filling the holo with new terrain, leaving the previous section behind as they made quick progress. Their speed had slowed, but they were still moving faster than we originally did on our own.
“How long before the second drone has to stop?” I asked.
Before Sigmond could answer, one of the red dots came to a halt, quickly extending a circle around itself on the holo.
“Never mind,” I said, leaning back in my chair.
Alphonse sat beside me with his palms on his lap, saying nothing. I caught sight of his thumb bouncing on his wrist, suggesting that he was in deep thought.
“What is it, Al?” I asked him.
He blinked at the sound of his name. “What?”
“I’m asking what you’re thinking about,” I answered.
He looked at the holo again, his eyes lingering on the two remaining drones. “I was wondering if we should have brought more drones, given the sheer size of this chasm so far, but—” He paused, twisting his lips like he wasn’t sure he should say the rest.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“If I recall correctly, the crust is only so deep,” he replied. “What happens when we breach the second layer?”
“Petra said something about that last time we were here,” I said.
“Thirty kilometers,” said Abigail. “That’s how deep she claimed it went.”
I turned in my chair. “Doc, is that right?”
Without looking up from her pad, Dressler nodded. “According to Titan’s records, yes.”
“What happens when we’re past the crust?” I asked.
“Lots of pressure,” said Verne. “You won’t want to leave the ship.”
“Actually,” began Dressler, “there should already be some additional pressure, considering the drones’ current depth. Twenty-five kilometers and counting.”
“I’m sure they can take it,” I said.
“That’s not what I mean,” she corrected, still staring at the pad in her lap. “Despite their current depth location, sensors detect no additional pressure on any of the drones.”
“None at all?” asked Verne.
“It’s as though they are still on the surface,” she said, obvious surprise in her voice.
“I take it this is unusual,” I said.
“It’s not just unusual, Captain,” she said, finally looking up from the pad. “It simply doesn’t make sense.”
“Why didn’t you notice this the first time we were here?” asked Abigail.
“Frankly, it never occurred to me to check,” she admitted.
“There must be a reason for this,” said Alphonse. “Perhaps the architecture of the pit is somehow the cause. You did say it could have been designed this way intentionally.”
“I suppose I did,” said Dressler, looking back down at the monitor.
I examined the holo, watching as the drones continued to scan the interior and build out the map. It took them twenty minutes to reach 100 kilometers, still no end in sight.
By the time they reached the 500 mark, we’d officially run out.
“I think it might be time to call in a new set,” said Alphonse.
I let out a quick sigh, wondering just how far down this damn pit went. “Siggy?”
“Sending an additional ten units, sir,” said the Cognitive. “Please, stand by.”
* * *
Eighty-six drones.
That’s how many we had to send into the pit before it finally happened.
At a depth of over 6,200 kilometers, the tunnel was totally devoid of any trilobites. Not a single machine resided on the side of the inner wall, nor could the drones detect any of them ahead.
“Wait a moment,” said Dressler, examining her pad. We expected her to say something right away, but instead she only sat there, studying the image.
“What is it?” Abigail finally asked.
Dressler blinked at the question, as though she’d been in a trance. “Oh, I apologize. These readings—they’re very unusual.”
“How?” asked Verne, looking over his own pad, trying to see what she did.
“I’m picking up Neutronium metal,” she said. “But, that can’t be right. There’s too much of it.”
I shot a quick glance at Abigail, who returned it. I was pretty sure we were thinking the same thing. Neutronium was the same metal Abby had used to conceal Lex when she first brought her aboard The Renegade Star. Normal sensors had a difficult time detecting it, but it was also the one of the rarest types of materials in the galaxy and exceptionally valuable, mostly because the only way you could get it was to synthesize it in an expensive, government owned lab.
Dressler scoffed at her pad. “That can’t be right.”
“Doc, speak up for the rest of the class,” I told her.
“If these readings are correct, the majority of the tunnel walls are composed entirely of Neutronium metal,” she replied. “But that’s not--”
“The entire tunnel?” I balked. “Are you trying to mess with me right now, MaryAnn? We ain’t got time for games.”
Her eyes snapped up from the pad to meet mine, locking on from across the cabin. “If you would let me finish,” she continued, an agitated tone in her voice. “I was going to tell you that the tunnel isn’t the end of it.”
“What do you mean it’s not the end?”
“The Neutronium extends beyond the walls for at least six hundred meters. Beyond that, the drones’ sensors become ineffective, but the metal seems to be everywhere.”
“How much is there?” asked Abigail.
“I don’t know,” the doctor admitted. “But it’s more than anyone in the galaxy has ever seen.”
The holo expanded across the dash, revealing the metal as it was detected, expanding in all directions. The hard stone fell away as the drones entered the next stage of the tunnel, all the jagged edges and small cliffs suddenly gone and replaced by perfectly smooth surfaces.
There were only two drones left at this point, and one of them stopped to extend its repeater. “Sir, the next set of drones will not arrive for sixty-four minutes,” informed Sigmond. “They have arrived at Titan and will need to be outfitted with their repeaters. I apologize for their delayed construction. I didn’t anticipate the size of this chasm.”
I si
ghed and checked the time. “Siggy, show me the feed from below Verdun. You know the one.”
“Right away, sir.”
In an instant, the holo switched to reveal a pile of trilobites. I didn’t have to count them to know there were more than the last time. A lot more. “Godsdammit,” I muttered. “Siggy, how many are there?”
“Fifty-one,” he answered.
Alphonse’s mouth dropped at the sound of the number. It was almost double what we’d counted this morning. I was officially alarmed. “Siggy, I want you to contact Bolin and have him gather everyone in Verdun and take them to The Galactic Dawn. Contact Athena and tell her to coordinate with him. Everyone leaves the colony until we get back.”
“What’s going on?” asked Verne. “Is Verdun in danger?”
I ignored the question. “Siggy, do you hear me?”
“I shall relay your orders, sir,” replied the Cognitive. “But I must ask what you intend to do next.”
“Move ahead with the plan, Siggy,” I answered, touching the control pad with my hand, ready to move the ship again. “We’re going back inside, and this time I mean for it to be the last.”
TWELVE
We slept in the ship, or tried to, anyway.
The ride was smooth, but the anticipation of what lay ahead hovered in the air like a fog. There was just too much we didn’t know, and that kind of uncertainty was never good for the mind. It led you to dwell on what might be, rather than what was. All the possibilities tugged at the back of your brain until it became too much, and that’s when the panic set in. That’s when you lost control.
But with the exception of Verne, I’d spent enough time with this crew to know that they weren’t about to buckle under the weight of the unknown. They wouldn’t give in to the little voice that begged them to be afraid, because none of us were new to fear. Not anymore.
The ship descended through the pit, passing hundreds of trilobites as they crawled along the rocky interior. Alphonse leaned his seat back and closed his eyes, falling asleep in only a few minutes. The man was so calm all the time, like nothing in the world could get to him. Could every Constable sleep whenever they chose? Was it some kind of special training or was that just Alphonse?
