The Wolf Itself (The Kestrel Chronicles Book 1)

by mikel evins

  “Cut power and break contact with the hulk,” Jaemon said. “We’re coming back. Angier, Mai, rally on Lev’s position, double-time. Watch out for debris. Don’t touch anything.”

  I powered down the link I was feeding and started disconnecting it. That’s when I saw them.

  There were thousands of them: tiny black mites, swarming over the skin of the derelict. They were so small that resolving them clearly required me to change lenses. They moved in a mass, with the edges sort of boiling away from their fellows, skittering around crazily, then rejoining the mass. They flowed here and there, this way and that, bunching and flowing, bunching and flowing. One or two of the ones at the edge found my link and suddenly the whole mass was boiling up my arm onto my body.

  Startled, I squeaked something incoherent into the comm feed and jerked back. I forgot about a clean disconnect from the link and just tore myself loose.

  “Ow!” I shouted, shaking my smarting hand.

  I pushed off from the derelict, maybe a little too hard, and tumbled away, end over end. That got rid of a few of the mites. They flew off and drifted away from me. I was never going to get rid of them all that way, though.

  I brushed at myself frantically, trying to knock the things loose, but most of them gripped my metal skin tight. My integrity sensors were telling me alarming things. They had started burrowing into my carapace, cutting into the metal surface. It was slow going for them, but they were actually making a little headway, carving out shallow dents in my structural metal, hunkering down in the dents and continuing to dig away.

  That’s when I realized what they were.

  “Keep your distance,” I said. “I’ve got Titans.”

  “What?” Angier said. “Not funny, Doc!”

  “I’m not joking,” I said. “I have around a thousand Titan secondaries swarming all over me. I’m trying to brush them off, but they’re starting to cut into my skin.”

  “Lev,” said Jaemon, “can you route power to your skin? Try to electrocute them?”

  “I’m not really built for that—”

  “Forget the safety manual, Lev. Can you do it or not?”

  “Well...maybe...yes, I guess I could, if I had to...”

  “You have to. Put as much voltage across those things as you can, and quick.”

  “Jaemon, it’ll fry half my sensors, and—”

  “It’s better than what will happen if you don’t. Do it now! That’s an order!”

  I froze for a moment. What he was suggesting was a serious violation of my operating parameters. It was exactly the kind of thing that I was never ever supposed to try.

  On the other hand, the tiny black mites continued to burrow into my skin. My contact sensors made their activity into an unpleasant tingling all across my torso. Furthermore, I had more practical reason to trust Jaemon Rayleigh than just about anyone I had ever met.

  I did what he said. I routed current across my carapace.

  It was extremely uncomfortable. I screamed. At least, I think that’s what that noise was. Everything went white for a while. I couldn’t feel my arms or legs. I remember thinking, “I wonder if this is what death feels like?”

  7.

  The noise and the white light started to fade after a bit. My vision came back a little grainy, cutting in and out, with colors desaturated. I still couldn’t feel my extremities, but I pointed my cameras at my hands and feet and wiggled my fingers. They seemed to be working all right. I just couldn’t feel them anymore.

  Angier and Wracket were hanging on to me, brushing at my chassis. Jaemon had one of my access ports open and was fiddling around inside it. All of a sudden something clicked and I could hear them arguing over our local Fabric channel.

  “Oh,” I said. “Tickle.”

  My voice came out with a lot of static, with ugly snaps and pops.

  “Easy, Lev,” Jaemon said. “You’re gonna be okay. You fried those suckers good.”

  “Fried. Me.” I felt stupid and a little giggly. It seemed like everything was spinning around me unless I paid close attention to my sensors.

  “Burned. Out,” I said. “Out. Burned. Out.”

  It was difficult to get the words to come out. It took all my concentration for each one. Each time I said something, my audio circuits popped and buzzed, and my speech-control unit seemed to want to start running uncontrolled. It took all the attention I could muster to prevent it flooding our comm channel with noise.

  “You’ll be all right,” Jaemon said. “I’ve got you patched together. We’ll do a proper repair job once we get you back to Kestrel.”

  “Kestrel,” I said. “Costrel. Costrel. Minstrel pipistrel wastrel. Wastrel. Wastrel.”

  “Easy there, Doc,” said Jaemon.

  “What’s wrong?” said Mai. “Will he be all right?”

  “Yeah, he’s just a little current drunk,” said Jaemon. “A few too many volts where they don’t belong.”

  “Why did he do that?”

  Angier said, “‘Cuz the XO told him to. Where were you?”

  “Take it easy, Angier,” said Jaemon. “The Doc used some electric current to fry these little things. See that?”

  My vision was still grainy and cutting in and out, but I could see Jaemon holding up one hand in front of Mai, finger and thumb pinched together. There was something tiny and black pinched between them, with bits of black dust or ash drifting off it. Mai touched her membrane to Jaemon’s fingers and sniffed, then pulled back and sneezed fiercely several times.

  “That’s nasty!” she said.

  “You can say that again,” said Jaemon.

  “Those are Titans?” Mai said.

  “Secondaries,” Jaemon said. “They aren’t so bad, as long as you don’t get them on you.”

  “On me,” I said. “On me. In me. Around me. Through me. About me.”

  “Okay, Doc,” said Jaemon. “We got the message.”

  “Lot of use he’s gonna be now,” Angier said.

  Jaemon turned and caught him by the arm and stared into his face.

  “Stow that, Mister, and I mean right now. You get me?”

  Angier’s eyes went wide. His mouth clamped shut.

  Jaemon released him and pulsed his jets toward me. He went back to fiddling around in my access hatch, then popped it closed.

  “Okay, Lev,” he said. “I’m gonna need you to run a class one self-diagnostic, and autorepair. Can you do that for me?”

  “Can do,” I said. “Can do can do can do.”

  “Okay. Start it running. Angier, Mai, grab onto Lev and let’s get him back over to the tent.”

  My spatial model of the stars was still running. It seemed unaffected by the electrical damage. I swiveled my cameras around, looking at the real stars and picking them out one-by-one in my model.

  “Aldebaran,” I said. “Rigel. Vega. Fomalhaut.”

  “Easy, Lev,” said Jaemon. “We’ve got you. How did the Titans move when they attacked you? Were they quick and direct? Or did they wander around?”

  “Wander,” I said. “Mosey. Sashay. Perambulate. Round and round, round and round, dosey-do.”

  “Okay. Try to focus on my questions, okay?”

  “Focus,” I said. “Right. Focus. Right. Focus hocus pocus crocus…”

  “Are you sure they wandered? Tell me what they looked like when they approached you.”

  “Ants,” I said. “Termites. Molasses. Running running running in little circles circles circles. Bunch and flow. Bunch and flow. Round and round and round and…”

  “Okay, that’s good. That’s all I needed to know.”

  “What’s all that about?” said Angier.

  Jaemon said, “Finding out how much trouble we’re in. From what Lev tells us, it sounds like these secondaries are orphans. That’s good.”

  “What do you mean orphans? What’s good about it?” Angier’s voice was rising in pitch.

  “Easy, Angier,” said Jaemon. “There are a few of different kinds of Titans.�
��

  “Everybody knows that,” Angier said. “So what?”

  “Maybe you know that primaries are the smart ones, and they command the secondaries. From what Lev tells us, it sounds like these secondaries are orphans. They’re acting dumb. That means there’s no primary directing them. That’s good. Secondaries are dangerous, but they’re not very bright. Not very organized. We can maybe outsmart them. If all we have to worry about is a bunch of orphaned secondaries, then we might still be okay.”

  “Well I say we cut the robot loose and get ourselves to a safe distance,” Angier said. “I didn’t sign up to come out here and fight Titans.”

  “Slow down, Angier,” said Jaemon. “Think things through. Before you start nominating crew members to cut loose, you might want to make sure you’re closer to the top of the performance ladder. Because you sure aren’t leading in the popularity contest right now.”

  Angier opened his mouth, and closed it. He looked a little pale.

  “Pale,” I said. “Ale whale stale.”

  “Shut up, will ya?” said Angier.

  8.

  “Lev, can you give us that pulse again?” Jaemon had hold of my left arm. Angier had my right. Mai’s shoulder-mounted effectors were clamped onto both of my ankles.

  “No,” I said. “Burned. Out. Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry.”

  “Great,” said Angier.

  “Okay, then we’re gonna hide behind you and push you through the debris, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. “Okay, I’m your shield. Okay, I’m your shield. I’m your shield shield shield. Your knight in shining knight in shining day, night and day.”

  “Okay, then,” said Jaemon, patting me on the shoulder. “Mai, Angier, slave your jets to me. I don’t want us tumbling off at some weird angle.”

  After a few moments, their jets pulsed a little in unison and we started drifting back toward the tent. It was completely invisible in the distance, black on black.

  I was built to work in many different environments. Hard vacuum was no inconvenience to me. Still, I had never spent much time in open space. I had rolled off the fab floor, taken orientation with the hundreds of others of my production run, spent the mandated weeks of idle time acquainting myself with the world around me, and then chosen a course of education suitable to my discovered inclinations. In principle, I and my siblings were perfectly identical. In practice, we became distinct persons very soon after we awoke in our bodies, and different individuals chose different courses.

  General field maintenance was what interested me. Medicine, mechanics, electronics…how could any subject be more interesting than how intelligent beings functioned? What could be more gratifying than helping them to function properly, repairing damage, improving deficiencies? My siblings had chosen every course of education that the fab offered for its children, and there were certainly other fascinating possibilities, but I never had any doubt which one was for me.

  It didn’t hurt that field maintenance is always in demand. I was confident that I could use it to obtain a favorable contract right out of my training, and I was not disappointed. I had my pick of plum assignments as soon as I completed my examinations. I chose to join the Jovian Diplomatic Guard.

  I had never regretted it. The Guard was prestigious, respected, and ubiquitous. A cross section of biological species, mech models, and soft frameworks served in its ranks, offering me a unique opportunity to meet and treat the broadest possible range of patients. It was a practical education without equal.

  The Guard was generous to its employees. I paid off my manufacturing debt in the second year of my first tour and was free and clear after that, a citizen of the Jovian League as long as I completed my first tour in good standing.

  All of that is to say that, even if I could be quite comfortable in open space, I had never had much opportunity to experience it. Not until now. I went from the fab floor straight to the Guard garrison on Mars. I stepped into the shipping crate in the fab transit center, and stepped out of it in the Mech Quarter of Jupiter House on the Tharsis Plateau.

  Our survey mission was thus my first experience of interplanetary space. It seemed as though my damaged circuits somehow made the ocean of stars more real to me. I don’t pretend to understand why. Perhaps Jaemon’s cobbled-together patches had crossed some wires in my brain. Perhaps my newfound inability to speak led me to be more contemplative.

  Whatever the reason, I found myself rapt, opening the focus of my cameras to infinity, soaking in the faint light of distant suns. I was listing stars again, comparing what I could see to the model I had made earlier.

  “Sirius,” I said, my damaged voice spitting and crackling. “Canopus, Arcturus, Capella. Hey. Hey! Hey? Hey, hey hey what’s that?”

  Jaemon was still patting my shoulder gently, trying to reassure me. The patting didn’t do much for me, but I did take comfort from his concern.

  There was something funny going on ahead of us. There was a gap, a circular hole in Saturn’s disk. That would be the tent, blocking our view of the planet. There were tiny black spots, jagged little motes in the giant planet’s vast eye. Those would be bits of the derelict’s hull, drifting in the vacuum. Once I had accounted for both of those effects, there was still something strange, something unaccountable. It was a wisp of smoke, a brownian motion of faint, exquisitely tiny cinders against the backdrop of Saturn and its rings.

  “Wait,” I said. “Waitwaitwait. Something…something…”

  “What is it, Lev?” said Jaemon, gripping my shoulder in his big hand.

  “Something. Strange. Smoke! Saturn. Saturn!”

  “What’s he talking about?” said Angier. “He’s lost it. He’s babbling.”

  “Babbling babbling,” I said. “Can’t talk. Can’t talk. Straight.”

  “It’s all right, Lev,” Jaemon said. “Your maintenance manual is intact. I checked. We’ll get you fixed up back at the tent.”

  “The tent the tent THE TENT!” I shouted. I started to struggle, but my coordination was gone. I felt like I was thrashing, but my movements were barely having any effect.

  “Take it easy, Buddy,” said Jaemon.

  “NO NO NO!” I said, my speakers hissing and popping. “STOP STOP STOP NO STOP NO STOP!”

  Why couldn’t I think of what to say? My mind was clear. I could see the distant wisps against the faint light of the planet, knew what they must be. Why couldn’t I turn my knowledge into words?

  “Okay, Lev…” Jaemon said, sounding a little exasperated.

  Angier shook his head.

  “I’m telling you—”

  “Shut up, Angier,” said Jaemon.

  “Listen—”

  “Shut it now. That’s an order.”

  Angier clamped his mouth closed and glared.

  “What are you trying to tell us, Lev?”

  Finally it just came out.

  “TITANS IN THE TENT. TITANS IN THE TENT! TITANS IN THE TENT!”

  Angier was shaking his head again. Jaemon hesitated.

  “I can go check,” said Mai.

  “How would Titans get in the tent?” Angier scoffed. “And how would blitz-brain know about it?”

  “No, stay here,” Jaemon said. “I don’t want you getting caught. You can’t generate a current to fry them if they get on you.”

  Mai said, “I’m not afraid.”

  Jaemon said, “You should be. Lev, what makes you think there are Titans in the tent?”

  “I...I...I...” I stammered. My speakers popped and fizzed. How did I know? That wasn’t important. Couldn’t they see that? The sensible course was to heed my warning until they had the chance to check it for themselves. Wasn’t that obvious?

  I tried to think of some way to tell them what I was seeing, but my speech control was hopeless. I imagined that tidal wave of black mites sweeping over my teammates. We were still drifting slowly toward the tent. I could see the clouds of secondaries swirling against the light of the distant planet. I could too
easily visualize our little group running right into them. I touched the scattering of scars on my carapace with one hand. The rest of my team didn’t have my hard metal carapace or my internal power source.

  I buffered several seconds of my view of Saturn. Then I sharpened it a little and enlarged it. Slowed it down slightly. Enhanced the contrast. Now it was unmistakable: black motes swarming, swirling around the circle of our tent.

  I looped the images and fed them to our Fabric channel.

  “Oh, crap!” said Angier.

  They all turned to look at Saturn.

  “Dead ahead,” I said. “Dead. Ahead, dead.”

  “Okay, change of plan,” said Jaemon. He switched the jets, slowing our forward momentum.

  “Hell,” he said.

  “Hell,” I repeated. “Hell hell hell hell hell.”

  9.

  We floated in space.

  Before of us was the tent, overrun with Titan secondaries. They were tiny things, not quite mechs, not quite biologicals, but somewhere in between. They were alien, relentless, and voracious. Whatever they could get their tiny, ravenous jaws on, they would strip down to molecules and use to build something more terrible than themselves.

  If we had been Titan primaries they would have been our servants. They would have been hundreds of thousands of prosthetic eyes and ears and feet and fingers, working our wills. They would have been myriad hands, so tiny and so numerous that they flowed like water. They would have scouted for us, tasted food, watched for danger. They would have found things of value, chewed them up and swallowed them, processed them into resources we could absorb, used them to build horrors for us.

  But we were not Titan primaries. We were their adversaries. We were their prey. The Titans themselves were far away, but their teeth and their claws were with us.

  “Keep chatter to a minimum,” Jaemon said. “We don’t know what channels they might be listening to. Lights out, okay?”

  We floated still in the dark.

  “We’re trying to think of a way out of this, right?” Angier whispered.

  “Yep,” said Jaemon.