by J. N. Chaney
It was nothing short of delusional.
“None of that changes the fact that I was still wrong,” I told her. “I assumed something and told myself it was true, and that’s the sort of shit that gets you killed.” I looked at her. “Gets us all killed.”
She swallowed, taking a deep breath, and said nothing.
We sat together in silence for a bit, until the void of our words was so thick I could hardly stand it.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” I finally continued.
She looked at me, locking eyes, but kept quiet.
“I keep dreaming about when I killed him, about how the glass tore through his face and the final words he said to me.”
Her eyes showed her concern. “What words?”
“That the Union would never stop coming for us. For you and Lex. For me. That we would always live with our backs in the corner, fighting everyone just to stay alive. I’ve tried to put the whole mess out of my head, but then it all comes flooding back in the middle of the night when I’m asleep, and I see that bastard’s face, laughing as he bleeds to death. I can’t stand it, Abby. I can’t stand seeing the ghost I’ve made for myself. It’s driving me crazy and—”
She placed her fingers through mine, squeezing my hand so tight it went a little numb, and then she smiled. Even through the glare of the helmet, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in all my life—more than the red and purple dust clouds in the Velos Nebula, more than the green and yellow tunnel walls of slipspace itself, and somehow more than she had been on our first night together, there in the confines of that ancient cave. “Sometimes, when I try to sleep, I see the ghost of my sister,” she said at last. “She’s ten years old and her name is Clementine. We’re together again, walking through the hall on our way to sneak a cookie from the kitchen. She tells me not to be afraid.”
“You have a sister?” I asked.
“We called ourselves sisters, even though we were adopted, but in all the ways that mattered, she was mine.”
Slight tears formed in her eyes as she spoke, and the weight of her loss was clear. Whoever Clementine had been, she was gone now, only returning in her sister’s quiet dreams.
“What do you think it means?” I asked.
“It’s a memory,” she explained. “A very old one from a time when things were simpler, and we were just two little girls living in an orphanage. Maybe that’s why it always feels so real.”
I decided not to ask why she’d never mentioned this girl before. Not every secret is hidden because of its value. Sometimes, you just couldn’t say it because the pain of doing so was simply too much. I cared too much for Abby to give her that grief.
Instead, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to me. “Seems like we’re both a couple of fucked up scoundrels,” I told her.
“Seems like it,” she repeated. “But I don’t mind it too much.”
“No,” I whispered, leaning my helmet against hers. “I don’t mind that at all.”
* * *
“All systems coming online in thirty seconds,” announced Gaia. Her voice punched through our comm, surprising everyone.
“Since when does she have access to our suits?” asked Verne.
“Apologies, everyone,” said Sigmond. “That would be my doing. I am relaying all messages directly to you as Gaia says them.”
I eased off the side of the shuttle, plopping my feet onto the metal platform and switching my comm to the main channel. “Let’s see what the inside of a planet really looks like.”
“Ten seconds,” said Gaia.
I walked to the end of the platform, along with the rest of my crew, and stared off into the darkness.
“Five seconds,” said Gaia.
“Do you think we’ll suddenly see a bunch of scary monsters when the lights turn on?” asked Verne. “You know, like bugs in the kitchen before they run under the refrigerator?”
We didn’t have time to answer.
“Initializing,” said Gaia.
Beginning in the surrounding architecture, the lights came on in an instant. An entire block of neighboring buildings lit up, casting a wide glow on the walkways and the nearby ground, as well as the platform we were standing on. Half a second later, another block adjacent to the first one followed. The light expanded, block by block, filling out the entire empty sphere one section at a time.
For the first time, we saw towers as big as skyscrapers, jutting out of the ground from kilometers away, their light revealing the truth breadth of this place’s size. Before, back in the shuttle, we could see a few kilometers, but now, thanks to the light, we could see so much more.
This was truly a city, greater in scope and size than any on the surface. Only now did the true revelation of what we had found finally hit me. “Would you look at that,” I muttered, my eyes wide and unblinking.
“Say what you will about the Eternals, but they knew how to build impossible things,” remarked Alphonse.
He was right about that. Between Cognitives and trilobites, it was a wonder we were surprised by anything anymore, but here we were, our jaws gaping at a city in the center of a planet.
“System reactivation sequence complete,” announced Gaia. “Proceeding with phase two.”
“There’s a phase two?” asked Verne.
It took me a second to realize what he was asking. Gaia had never mentioned anything else happening after she brought the lights on.
I turned around. “Siggy, what is she talking about?”
“Unknown, sir. She appears to be activating another sequence,” he responded.
“Tell her to stop,” I ordered, taking a few steps back towards the corridor entrance. “I didn’t authorize that!”
“She isn’t responding, sir. Please hold while I analyze her system.”
“Siggy, I need you to tell me exactly what she’s doing,” I barked, halfway to the hall.
“Resuming Project Reclamation sequence order zero five,” said Gaia. “Activating terraforming protocol thirty-seven.”
“Siggy!” I snapped.
“Apologies, sir,” returned Sigmond. “From what I can observe, I believe Gaia is initializing the next step in the terraforming process. Activating the lights and restoring power must have inadvertently caused the system to resume its designated assignment.”
“What exactly is the next step, Sigmond?” asked Dressler.
“I’m afraid I don’t know, Doctor,” admitted the Cognitive.
I cursed, then started jogging through the corridor, towards the atrium. “Whatever happens, we can’t let her accidentally reactivate those trilobites!”
“What are you saying, Captain?” asked Verne.
“I’m saying I’ll shut her the fuck down if I have to,” I responded as I ran.
It took me about three minutes to reach the end of the corridor, even at this speed. I swung the door to the atrium open and rushed inside, heading straight for the back half of the room.
Sigmond was standing beside Gaia, who seemed to be totally oblivious to my arrival. She had both her hands in the air, letting them hover like some kind of marionette doll.
“Gaia!” I yelled, nearly out of breath from running in the heavy environmental suit. “Snap the hell out of it!”
“I’m so sorry, sir,” said Sigmond. “I fear she’s lost to her processes, at least for the time being.”
I swept my hand through Gaia, wiping the light particles out of the air, disrupting her face. It reformed immediately, but the empty look remained. “Siggy, I thought I told you to monitor her. Can’t you see what she’s doing?”
“I can only observe her vital processes within her core program. From that, I can assess the state of her Cognition, but not her subroutines, which are currently engaged in outside systems that—”
“What does all of that mean, Siggy?”
“Simply put,” he continued. “Gaia has reached into another branch of the system, activating certain processes that go bey
ond this Capsule. Such processes are not a part of her program. Rather, they operate completely independently, with Gaia acting as the external activation key required to turn them on or off.”
“You’re saying she flipped the switch on something outside of this facility?” asked Alphonse. I’d nearly forgotten that the others could hear every word of this conversation.
“Yes, Mr. Malloy,” said Sigmond. “Gaia referenced the terraforming process, if you will recall. This indicates to me that she has activated an outside program related to it. What this specifically entails, I do not know.”
“Biome replication process initializing,” declared Gaia. “Activating flora distribution sequence in Grid 01, Grid 13, Grid 18, Grid 23, Grid 39, and Grid 64. Estimated time of completion: sixteen minutes and nineteen seconds.”
“I think you just got your answer,” said Alphonse.
“What’s a biome replication process?” I asked.
“The next phase!” snapped Dressler, a hint of excitement in her voice. “She said flora distribution, which suggests plant life. Do you know what this means, Captain?”
“I can guess,” I said, imagining little blades of grass popping up from the ground all across the barren wastelands of the surface. “None of that explains why she can’t respond to us.”
“It can’t be from the missing memories,” said Verne. “We replaced all of her broken drives.”
Sigmond looked at Gaia. “It would seem Gaia is not acting of her own accord, but rather through the will of a pre-established protocol. She has no control over her present actions.”
“Can we wake her up?” asked Octavia.
“I would advise against that,” cautioned Dressler. “Waking her might disrupt whatever she’s controlling, which could result in the entire terraforming process failing.”
Sigmond nodded. “Indeed. The best course of action in this instance may be to do nothing, counterintuitive as it may be.”
I felt the urge to do something—grab a stick and beat the shit out of Gaia’s Capsule—but I steadied myself and tried to do as the others had suggested. A piece of me suspected that all of this was part of someone else’s plan to destroy everything we’d fought so hard to build, but I knew that couldn’t be. No one was trying to kill us—not right now, anyway—and they weren’t going to come flying out of the darkness to wrap their hands around our throats.
Brigham’s words ran through my mind again, telling me to believe the impossible, telling me I was right to be afraid, but I pushed them all out of my head, and I told myself to be still.
I wouldn’t let the dead ruin my life. I wouldn’t let a ghost control my fear. Not in this new world.
“Initializing Phase three,” announced Gaia. “Initializing gate sequence: location zero-one-one-eight. Formation imminent.”
Sigmond placed a finger on his chin. “Oh, my.”
“Siggy? What is it?” I asked, unable to make heads or tails of what Gaia had just said.
He looked at me, a concerned expression forming for the first time since Gaia had gone sideways. “It seems she has activated—”
“Captain!” shouted Octavia, her voice piercing my ear and causing me to cringe.
“What is it?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Something’s happening!” she snapped.
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking back at Sigmond. “What is she talking about, Siggy?”
“It’s the center of the core,” said Octavia. “It looks like a storm is forming. Some kind of lightning!”
“As I was saying, sir,” continued Sigmond. “Gaia seems to have activated a slip tunnel somewhere inside the Earth’s core.”
TWENTY-ONE
The core came alive like a storm as I raced towards the outer platform. Thunder boomed so loudly that I could hear it through the comm.
“How could she form a slip tunnel in here?” asked Octavia.
“Should we get back in the ship?” asked Verne. “I think we should get back in the ship!”
“Calm down,” said Dressler. “We don’t know what this is yet. Besides, an attempt to flee would place us near the event horizon.”
I came running out of the hallways and onto the platform, stopping in my tracks when I saw the slip tunnel forming several kilometers above us—above everything, since the entire city encircled it.
The sight of it gave me pause. Purple, green, and yellow lightning arced across the center of the world, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the end of everything. Had I done the wrong thing? Had I made a mistake? What was I supposed to do differently?
A massive boom rattled the ground beneath my feet, causing everyone to flinch.
“Why is she doing this?” asked Octavia. “What does a slip tunnel have to do with terraforming the Earth?”
“I don’t think that’s what this is,” said Dressler.
“What do you mean?” asked Abigail.
Dressler shook her head. “Gaia keeps referencing this Project Reclamation. The name implies that whoever built all of this—” She pointed to the nearby city towers. “—planned on coming back. Don’t you agree?”
“I suppose that would make sense,” said Abigail.
Dressler motioned to the storm. “What if this is how it happens?”
“You’re suggesting we’re about to be besieged by an army of Eternals,” said Alphonse.
“I never said that,” said Dressler.
Before they could continue, a flash of light tore through the air, dimming our visors. When I looked back up, I saw the formation of a slip tunnel rift taking shape and expanding, like a knife cutting through an invisible cloth. It grew and bent, taking on a circular shape. It was also expanding very quickly. “Everyone back inside!” I ordered, suddenly aware of our vulnerability.
Nobody argued, following me into the nearby corridor so that we were just inside, standing behind the metal slabs of the protruding wall.
All we could do was watch as the rift continued to grow, expanding into a massive swirling vortex the size of which we’d never seen. The ground shook, and I caught myself looking at the buildings nearby, wondering if they might crumble to the ground.
But everything maintained, and why shouldn’t it? If someone could hollow out a planet’s core and build a city around a working slip tunnel, then it only stood to reason they knew how to compensate for a simple quake.
Another flash, followed by a thunderclap, echoed through the city, filling our tunnel with heavy vibrations and dimming our visors again.
In seconds, the rift stabilized into what we all recognized as a slip tunnel, fully formed and pulsating. This had to be the single largest tunnel formation I’d ever seen, although without a proper scanner, it was impossible to know for sure.
“Sigmond!” shouted Dressler. “How large is that tunnel?”
“Approximately thirteen kilometers in diameter,” he answered.
Dressler shot a quick look at me. “I think I finally understand what all of the Neutronium metal is for, Captain!”
“What do you mean?” I asked, almost shouting as I tried to speak above the sound of the storm.
“A tunnel that size shouldn’t be possible. The largest on record is only nine kilometers, and it was only opened once. The Neutronium must be acting as a conduit for the slipspace engine. That’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”
“If that’s true, then we’re not just standing in a city,” said Alphonse. “We’re inside the engine itself!”
“Sir,” interrupted Sigmond. “With your permission, I’d like to suggest a deep scan of the tunnel using one of the drones.”
“Won’t that break your link to the surface?” I asked.
“In the time we have been here, I’ve sent an additional fifteen drones through the outer chasm. They are currently hovering near the lowest point, above the core entrance.”
“So, how’s that gonna work, Siggy? You shoot a few of them inside that thing?” I asked.
“Is t
hat a good idea?” asked Verne.
“If this tunnel operates the same as any other slipspace rift, it shouldn’t be a problem,” said Alphonse. He looked at Dressler for confirmation, and she gave a simple nod.
“Sounds like you have the go-ahead, Siggy,” I told him.
“Before you start,” interjected Dressler. “Could you forward the drone’s video feed to us?”
“Yes, Doctor. Proceeding now,” said the Cognitive.
A livestream appeared in the corner of my visor, showing the lowest point in the outer chasm as the drone drifted from its resting position and into the open core. By its own perspective, the slip tunnel looked like it was floating high above it. I’d already forgotten that no matter where you were inside this place, the center was always Up.
The drone thrusted forward, towards the rift. At the same time, I could see a small light moving against the city’s backdrop, headed to the center of the core.
“Sigmond, how is Gaia doing right now?” asked Dressler. “Is she still in a trance?”
Another feed appeared in the opposite corner of our visors, showing Gaia in the same position as before. She was almost frozen in place. “I’m afraid so, Doctor,” answered Sigmond.
“In that case, we have no choice but to proceed,” said Dressler. “Wouldn’t you say, Captain?”
“I would,” I replied. “Siggy, let’s head inside. Keep the drone’s sensors running at all times and relay every ounce of data to the other drones so we can analyze it later.”
“Understood, sir,” said Sigmond.
The drone pressed forward, closing the gap between itself and the rift. The swirling nexus of the event horizon shined with familiar green shades of color. Aside from the sheer size of it, this tunnel was identical to all the others I’d come across in my travels, which meant we probably had little to fear from it, at least from this far away.
Then again, nothing about this place was normal, so I couldn’t bet on anything just yet.
The drone entered the rift, diving into the enormous vortex like a flea diving into a pond. I watched the feed as it quickly distorted into a garbled mess of an image, breaking and fragmenting until it was indecipherable, finally going completely black.
