Eye of the Abyss: Chronicles of the Orion Spur Book 3

by Michael Formichelli

  “I can’t. Look, Armstrong’s people are in need of my help, but she understands it has to wait. What I need to do first is important.” He stared at the upside-down pear shape of the Savorchan’s skull, and willed the big sentient to understand. His chest heated up.

  “Very well, that will have to do. Pray you do not go back on your word, Baron.”

  “I won’t.”

  Auks half-turned from him, almost hitting him with his thick, two-meter long tail. “Let the other humans know I am ready. I can hold this location alone for a time, but do not delay.”

  “I will—wait, alone?” Ichiro cocked his eyebrow.

  “Yes, they have stated they will be going with you to your system.”

  “They did?” He pressed his lips together. With a gesture he willed the door to flow open again and stormed into the room. “What’s this about you coming with us?”

  The twins did not stop working. The music was playing in the background again.

  “We can’t possibly let you go without us—” Europa began.

  “—it would be unconscionable,” Enéas finished.

  “What are you talking about?” Ichiro gave Armstrong a look. She stepped forward, putting a hand on her gun.

  “There’s no need for that,” Europa said.

  “We’ll have enough air and supplies for all of us.” The sparks around Enéas ceased, and he stood up with his sister. “There—”

  “—finished,” she said.

  “You can’t come with us. Seika Zōsensho is a secure location. I thought you two had responsibilities here.”

  “We are here as representatives of our father—” Enéas said.

  “—but the researchers don’t need us. Truth be told—” his sister continued.

  “—we’re bored. Besides, you spoke of war and fighting. And that’s what we’re good at.”

  The twins smiled together.

  “No, it’s not possible. You’ll have to stay here,” he said.

  They cocked their blond eyebrows.

  “Come on. It’ll be like old times,” Europa said.

  “And don’t you owe us for this?” Enéas pointed at the modified rover.

  “Yes, but—”

  “And you’ll probably want our father’s support if hostilities do break out with Revenant,” Europa added.

  His voice died in his throat. That, at least, was correct. Cylus wasn’t up for a protracted campaign, which he was sure was what would come. His father had prepared for it. Cylus was his friend, but he was no warrior, and Ichiro still wasn’t sure of the extent of his sister’s influence on him. LeRoux, on the other hand, was a supporter of House Mitsugawa, and a strong, old House in its own right. He couldn’t afford to offend them, and couldn’t take the chance that by shunning the twins’ wishes he wouldn’t.

  Tengu looked up at him with an intense gaze. He knew at once the cerberai sided with the twins. Why? He could not say.

  He sighed.

  “That sounded fatalistic,” Armstrong whispered.

  “It is. Fine. You’re with us, then. Make sure your father remembers our alliance, though.” He fixed each of the twins with a serious look.

  “When the time comes—” Europa began.

  “—we will,” Enéas finished.

  Chapter Thirteen

  DSS Akanda/Annihilator 87136, Zov System

  VoQuana Quarantined World

  41:3:43 (J2400:3236)

  What’s our position? Nero asked, floating in his personal quarters. Little more than a closet with some built-in cabinets, a human-sized nanomed-infuser tube, and a fabricator niche in the wall large enough to make most handheld objects. They were about to enter the Zov system, and their plan called for him and Athame to imitate their former selves in order to gain entry.

  We’re twenty minutes out from the system now. Athame is putting us 0.2 AU from Zov Prime on exit. There will be a 1.7 minute delay in communications at that distance, Prospero said.

  The comm delay allowed enough time to ponder responses, plan, and react if things went south in a hurry. He wasn’t about to be driven away from Zov, but the tack they took to gain access to the planet might have to change if the ruse failed. If the Abyssian station’s suspicions were aroused enough to contact Daedalus directly, they might find themselves in a desperate fight.

  How strange it is to find ourselves opposing Daedalus. I never would have thought it possible, Prospero said

  Life is stranger than fiction, right? he thought back. His SCC was right, it felt wrong in some way to be plotting against Daedalus, but it wasn’t as if the monstrous artificial intelligence didn’t deserve it. It stole his life, after all, and was due a bit of payback.

  The door chime sounded, and he opened it with a thought.

  “May I have a word?” Athame said, floating in the corridor. He was expecting Sorina, but nodded and pressed himself back into the niche to give her room. She hovered over the threshold using her body’s built-in electromagnets.

  “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I have been troubled by something since we defeated the Q-Virus.”

  “What is it?” This could be serious, especially if her being ‘troubled’ led to overcoming her new programming. The absolute last thing he needed was to have Athame become an agent of Daedalus again in a VoQuana system.

  Her purple eyes locked with his. “What will you do when you regain your past? If you find this Kaeden Faen on the planet we are approaching, he will be able to fill in a large gap in your memory. It might even aid you to regain more pieces on your own.”

  “I thought Daedalus erased my memories.”

  “Many are simply suppressed. Daedalus could not erase all of them without erasing the skills that made you a good test subject. The experiment called for converting you, not replacing your core personality. Non-critical memories were deleted. Though key memories are still present, your brain’s retrieval mechanisms for those memories are inoperable.”

  “Then what makes you think talking to Kaeden Faen will trigger my ability to recall them?” He frowned at the thought that he would never be able to reclaim all of himself. What would Daedalus have considered non-critical?

  “I am not sure such a conversation would, but it is possible. Human brains are adaptable. I know. I have been inside them more than once. You may be growing new synapses as we speak. Perhaps your brain has been healing this entire time, subverting Daedalus’ will.” She cocked her head to the side, bobbing in the air as her magnetic field compensated for the motion. “Perhaps that is why Daedalus ordered your recall.”

  It does make sense, Nero. You did have that vision on Elmorus, Prospero said. And what does she mean by having been inside human brains, I wonder?

  Disturbing, he thought back. “Okay, maybe talking to Kae will trigger something. To answer your question about what I’ll do, I don’t know. Do I have a family? Friends who haven’t seen me in ten years? I know Kae used to be one. Will he take me back into his confidence? Will they? How will I feel about them once I know? There are so many questions.” He frowned. “What I do will depend on those things.”

  Athame blinked, righting her head. “I have a family.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You do? I thought you were made by Daedalus like the other Abyssians.”

  “No.” She stared at him.

  “You weren’t made by Daedalus?”

  “No.”

  Don’t clam up on us now, Prospero sent.

  She ignored him. She wasn’t programmed to treat Prospero’s words as commands, only Nero’s.

  “Who made you?” he asked.

  “My parents.”

  “Who are—wait, is there some reason why you’re being reluctant all of a sudden?”

  “Yes. There is a reason.” Athame continued to meet his gaze with a passive expression, but he got the feeling she might be stressed about this. It was an odd thought to have considering she was inorganic. Did androids have feelings? He’d never thought about it before.
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  “Who are your parents?” he asked.

  “Doctor Merte Algol and Das’Voq Brovatq,” she answered without tonal variation.

  Scanning the Akanda’s files, Prospero said. Doctor Merte Algol is listed as a fugitive from Confederate justice, but she may be dead by now. Her last known sighting took place seventy-eight Earth years ago, before the formation of the Confederation. She is missing presumed deceased. There is no listing for the other name she mentioned, Prospero said.

  That was curious. Was the Abyssian standing before him not really an Abyssian? Had she been something else before, and did that mean they had something in common?

  She might have been a colony administration AI, or perhaps a ship’s—

  “I was neither of those things,” Athame interrupted Prospero. “I was made to be the offspring of Doctor Algol and Das’Voq Brovatq. They wanted a child. My construction was the only way they could achieve that goal.”

  “Were they different species? I’ve never heard of an inter-sentient relationship creating an AI as a child before,” Nero said.

  “It is sometimes done, but it is very rare. Most biologicals prefer biological offspring,” she responded. “I am uncomfortable with this line of questioning.”

  “I’m sorry to make you uncomfortable. We don’t need to pry. Are you comfortable answering this question? How did you become an Abyssian?”

  “I am not comfortable with that query, but I will answer.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said before she could respond. “If this is your personal business—I mean it is your personal business. If it doesn’t affect your operation or your service to me, I don’t need to know.”

  She seemed to process that for a moment. “Thank you, Nero. It will not affect my service to you.”

  “Um, you’re welcome.” He looked away for a moment.

  “I have a suggestion,” she said.

  He nodded for her to go ahead.

  “When we arrive I suggest I take the lead. I am more up to date on Daedalus’ protocols. Your file indicated you have not yet done a quarantine visit.”

  “No, I haven’t, and go ahead.”

  Are you sure that is wise? Prospero interjected.

  Leave it alone. I think I trust her.

  “Confirmed, I will take the lead. We arrive in ten minutes twenty-two seconds.” The door slid open behind her and Athame floated backwards, rotated, and headed towards the cockpit.

  She is an odd one, and I’m saying that as an AI. You may not be curious about her origins, but I am.

  I’m curious, Nero thought back, but I think I have enough on my mind right now. It’s clear she’s staying with us as long as that reprogramming holds, so we’ll find out eventually.

  That’s strange, Prospero thought.

  What is?

  You being patient.

  He shrugged. Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.

  Ten minutes later a chime sounded through the ship. He arrived in the cockpit with Sorina as the blue flash of Cherenkov radiation lit up the windows. At this range the planet was a dot in the sky, so Nero opened a window in his UI, tapped into the Akanda’s visual sensors, and zoomed in to have a closer look. The appearance of the blue-green planet startled him. It looked a lot like Earth, though the land-masses were in different shapes. He supposed it was unsurprising that the species which once stole humans and hybridized them preferred the same environment.

  It’s not exactly the same, Prospero stated, the atmosphere is a little bit different, though within human tolerances.

  Sounds functionally the same to me, he thought back and caught Sorina’s gaze leveled at him. “Everything all right?”

  “Yes, why do you ask?” she answered.

  “You just have a look about you.”

  “A look?” Her ears quivered.

  “Ah—never mind.” He noted the tension in her body. “I’m sorry I said anything.”

  She frowned at him, but let the matter drop and put her eyes on the ring of windows at the fore of the cockpit.

  A second window popped up in his vision. They were being hailed by the Abyssian station in orbit. Though he couldn’t see it through the windows, the sensors detected the signal source as orbiting on the day-time side of the planet along with several other objects that were large enough to be stations in their own right.

  “Let me take this. The hail will be in Daedalus’ machine language, and I do not think Prospero knows how to respond.” Athame said into his thoughts from the top-half of the cockpit seat.

  She’s right, Prospero replied, much to my own embarrassment, I never received the protocols for this situation.

  He nodded his acquiescence to Athame.

  “What do you mean by saying I have a look about me?” Sorina asked, startling him.

  “Ah, I just meant you looked a bit tense,” he replied.

  “Oh. So do you.”

  They smiled at each other.

  Athame was staring at them when he turned his head back towards her. “We will dock with the station at port two. The station is under the direction of Praetor Login. He will meet us at the airlock.”

  I’ll bring us in, Prospero said.

  “Are we going to have trouble?” Sorina asked.

  “If we are, it will evidence itself soon. The station will check with Daedalus about our unexpected arrival. We will know shortly if Daedalus is intending to do something about our independence. The station has enough firepower to destroy us with the annihilator in its present state of disrepair.”

  “That’s a comforting thought.” Nero glowered. “I’ll get ready for combat.”

  “It may not be necessary. Daedalus knew something was wrong the moment you disconnected my q-comm,” Athame continued. “The lack of a hostile greeting in this system could have several causes, among them is the possibility Daedalus did not anticipate our arrival here. I did not notify it that you intended to come here from Taiumikai as I had no intention of bringing you to Zov.”

  “Thank you?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “You are welcome, Nero.” Athame said without humor.

  The ship shifted around him, throwing him and Sorina into the wall of the corridor.

  Hey! Prospero protested.

  “I am placing the annihilator into a high orbit around the planet. A detailed scan of the vessel will reveal its level of damage, therefore taking the Akanda to the station instead will serve our needs better should flight be necessary,” Athame said.

  Fine, but I am flying this ship, and I resent your override of control, Prospero stated.

  “Feel free to resent it,” she responded.

  Nero suppressed a snicker.

  Oh, very funny. He felt Prospero bristle.

  “I prepared something in case we are attacked,” Sorina said. “Based on the Q-virus’ hacking protocols I studied on our journey here, and what we learned with you, I was able to design a program to seize control of any system designed by Daedalus.”

  “Clever,” Athame said.

  “I doubt it will work more than once or twice, though,” she added.

  “Good work,” Nero said. “Let’s hold onto that just in case they don’t blow us up.”

  Sorina nodded.

  “Get ready to transmit your weaponized code, just in case. Prospero, detach the Akanda and take us in,” Nero ordered.

  The thunk of the magnetic seals attaching them to the annihilator echoed through the ship. He pulled himself into the bottom half of the cockpit chair and strapped in.

  Get ready for burn, Prospero said. Sorina switched places with Athame, who magnetized herself to the corridor wall.

  Insertion burn, now.

  The engines flared, filling the ship with the sound of rushing particles and the roar of her turbines. The Akanda lunged forward. Over the course of the next hour, the planet grew from a dot among the stars to a blue-and-green sphere that dominated the starscape. A black speck appeared against the swirl of clouds, and after several minutes, took a
recognizable form. Two hemispheres of matte-black hull joined by a central column made up the overall shape of the station. Much like the annihilator they left behind, the structure had no windows, no lights, and no markings of any kind on its hull. It was simple, utilitarian, and filled with the terrible purpose of its creator. The sensors picked up the weapons suites before Nero’s eyes found the pock-marks and blisters glistening in the reflected light of the planet beyond it. The count of these tools of destruction was in the thousands.

  In the six Earth decades since the Quae-Sol War ended, no ship has ever breeched Daedalus’ defenses, Prospero said. There are eight of these battle-stations around every VoQuana colony world, and even more around their home world. They are well-bottled and controlled.

  Then how is it Baron Revenant is working with them? Nero thought back.

  I don’t know, though I suspect some answers may lie below us, Prospero responded.

  “Doubtful,” Athame interrupted. “We will get nothing from the VoQuana themselves.”

  “There is a population of Isinari here, isn’t there?” Sorina asked. “Most VoQuana colonies are said to house those who rejected the Confederate offer to leave the quarantine. Perhaps one of them might talk to us?”

  “That has a higher chance of success, though I suspect no Isinari knows the plans of their masters.”

  “It still might be worth a shot,” Nero responded to Athame. “Any sign of the Katozi Slynn?”

  “The computer is still parsing out all of the neutrino readings.” Sorina closed her eyes. “There are a lot. This is a modern society with fusion power. The scan will take quite some time.”

  “It will be faster to ask,” Athame stated. “If the Katozi Slynn came here as you claim, there will be a record on the station.”

  “Its last known flight-plan said it was headed here.” He scratched his chin. “Unless that was a lie.”

  “As long as they don’t destroy us, I suppose we will settle this matter in due time,” she said.

  Their course took them between the hemispheres of the station and towards the thick column at its center. He had the impression of being in a gargantuan trash compactor the moment they passed beyond the lips of the armored structure. A shiver ran down his back, and he shifted against the grip of the restraint harness. The holographic panels around him indicated they were being tracked by at least twenty targeting lasers aimed at critical points on their hull.