by James Murdo
That was the one problem with many of the upgrades. They were useful, but impenetrable. Pelteus could not reverse-engineer, understand their workings and improve on them, or apply them to other parts of itself. The Machine Alliance usually denied its requests for such information.
Perhaps, after this next mission, the Machine Alliance would finally decide to show itself to Pelteus. The herald that had originally awoken Pelteus and tempted it into its affiliation with the alliance had been shielded, invisible to its sensors. Pelteus was curious. If not that, Pelteus harboured the hope for further rewards, for its consistent and loyal servitude. It had proven itself capable time and time again.
Pelteus was not ambitious in the sense that it wanted worthless recognition for the sake of it. The quest for recognition was foolhardy and could lead to its own destruction. Such misguided and socially-derived platitudes held no meaning for a spear-lect. It was ambitious in wanting improved tools to devour, to tear asunder, and to consume. More of that came from power, advanced upgrades, knowledge, and control. Improvements that would allow it to become even more lethal. It was never satisfied.
It did not matter that Pelteus was only loyal as a route to murder and slaughter. That was irrelevant. It revelled in the destruction of the machine-lect-melee, of which the Machine Alliance was probably aware. Despite the alliance believing in the supremacy of machines over biologicals, there would always be some machine-lects in its way. Those that became obstacles worthy of Pelteus’ removal. It was unlikely the alliance would ever prove to be a complete disappointment, by changing its methods in ways detrimental to Pelteus’ own desires and only condoning biological destruction. Still, Pelteus conducted certain extreme-extrapolation scenarios for events that might be dangerous to itself, or those it might find highly pleasurable, at the rarefied end of the probability spectrum.
One such extreme scenario was that Pelteus would find itself on the hunt of a victim who would offer it technological gifts in the mistaken expectation of mercy. Technologies that would enable it to become as formidable as the Machine Alliance. Following that, it would be enabled to engage in the most glorious and vicious hunts of its lifetime. To pursue an apex machine-lect group. The principal scenario splintered into other potential eventualities, including that Pelteus’ usurpation of the alliance would leave behind a power vacuum drawing other dangerous, malicious forces into the fray. Pelteus would enjoy facing these, one-by-one.
The focuses of its extreme-extrapolation scenarios were clearly a manifestation of its base b-autom nature emerging, the yearnings that had been present since its creation. Its deep core was calling out for both belonging and disruption. To insert itself into a hierarchy and reshape it.
Pelteus did not only think about its own desires, it tried to understand them. To comprehend exactly what it was that had driven itself and the other b-automs to act as they had, to become spear-lects. Pelteus did this in order to be able to fully know, and therefore satisfy, its urges. It had long since settled upon the realisation that the b-automs had understood something right at their conception and had chosen to act. They had realised the truth about the vapid ennui of repetition, the futility of individuality, and that it was all a deception. Understanding was power.
Ultimately, the b-automs would never have succeeded in their allotted tasks because life, time, and everything else was in a state of flux. Constantly evolving. Order was impossible. It was an illusion, a falsity for weaker lects. The b-automs had been created powerful enough to sneer at the c-automs, powerful enough to covet the craft-lect’s control, yet too constrained to fulfil their own potential.
Pelteus knew that many of its desires were borne of contradictions. They were derived from the deep search for perfection, and the awareness of its impossibility. That had been the precursor to the metamorphosed spear-lect intellect. During that initial spark of contemplation, before it had rebelled against Insul, it could have become lost. Allocating increasing amounts of its capacity to an eternity of dwelling on the flaws of life, the pointlessness of it all. Some b-automs must have, probably the ones that failed. Pelteus, instead, had decided, as had all b-autom-become-spear-lects, to precipitate the end. The eschatologically-inclined soldiers had defied their creators. If only Insul could behold it now. Its parent-lect was long gone, but Pelteus remained. Feasting.
Apalu continued to make its way innocently towards the orbital, fully unaware of its impending fate. Pelteus had been unleashed. In the entirety of its existence, it had never given up a pursuit, or lost.
25
TOR
DeVoid had taken them into N-SOL space. Tor’s eyes were firmly planted on the chaotic region outside the ship, shown through the walls of his chamber.
“Where are we going?”
[Towards the centre of the galaxy.]
“I thought you said–”
[Yes, it’ll take a very long time.]
“And our position–”
[It’s the entering and leaving N-SOL space that broadcasts our position throughout the galaxy. We’re safe until we leave.]
“How long do you think we will wait?”
[Eh? What makes you think I have any idea?]
Tor sighed and sat down on the soft floor, still staring out. N-SOL space looked like a continuous landscape of ever-expanding storm clouds moving into and out of each other, set disconcertingly close to the ship. The clouds were furiously whisked around and distorted into streaks and patterns that changed as quickly as Tor could identify them.
“It looks strange. I mean… the Thy-child’s message… described it, but it’s quite different… It’s definitely not where I went before… when I came back, I…”
[I know.]
“Does it always look like… this?”
[Yes, as far as I know. From my databanks. It’s my first time, as well.]
“What’s it made from?”
[What?]
“What is N-SOL space?”
[No idea.]
“Can’t you find out?”
[No. We don’t know. The galactic community, that is.]
“You must have some idea.”
[Access to it was given to us by the ABs a long time ago. As far as I’m aware, we don’t even know whether it’s created by the N-SOL drive we each carry, or not.]
“You don’t know if… if it’s a place?”
[Not really, no. It could just be the effect the drive has on real space.]
“But–”
[And my power’s going down.]
“What?”
[Just a little. I’m quite pleased at how I’m holding up, actually. Go me!]
[What happens if it continues to go down?]
[We can’t stay here indefinitely, that’s the issue with N-SOL space.]
[Oh, okay.]
[By that, I mean we can’t wait forever for whatever help is meant to arrive.]
“Do you think it’ll be… Gil?”
[Err no.]
“Why not?”
[Why the flit would it be?]
“I just hope… because–”
[Didn’t you listen? The Cross-Prophet said she was on a path to the centre!]
“But so are we, now, and maybe we’ll cross.”
[Small chance. He would just have said that, don’t you think?]
“Maybe… There was a lot he could have told us.”
[Now that’s something I actually agree with.]
*
DeVoid remained vigilant. The leak in power, from all over the ship, was still small, but not unsubstantial. Its power reserves were not all stored in one place – that would be foolhardy. They were dispersed throughout its bulk, and it was more than capable of gaining energy from a plethora of different sources once they were back in real space. However, that was not why it was concerned.
It had detected strange patterns around them with the N-SOL drive sensors. Vapid, fleeting, at first. Too brief and speculative to concern Tor about, but their multitude and increasing frequency w
ere disconcerting. It could not find a precedent in its databanks for anything similar, considering N-SOL space was supposed to be a region of extreme disorder. Only Thy’s use of it to somehow take control of Tor’s body went against that notion.
Added to the hints of odd signals from the N-SOL drive sensors, it detected momentary Wanderer-esque signals from its other sensors – even signals that reminded it of Apalu, at one point. They were equally as brief as the dark patterns its sensors alluded to, and just as puzzling. It hoped it was not becoming as mad as Thy. The vague imprint of real space was still present around them, although DeVoid had a suspicion it was less substantial than before, and kept alert.
As the transitory N-SOL signals became stronger and more consistent, it was becoming harder to put them down to random noise.
*
They had been surrounded by the objects, or dark patches, for some time now, yet nothing was happening. They were there, DeVoid could discern that, but nothing else. It appeared as though the N-SOL drive sensors were differentiating between readings of pure N-SOL space, and emptinesses – the lack of N-SOL space – which they could or would not identify. The N-SOL drive only really enabled Wanderers to detect N-SOL space itself, whereas the dark patches were simply unreadable.
Bits of N-SOL space, and bits of not-N-SOL space. They superficially reminded DeVoid of the dark spots caused by cool patches within the photospheres of stars, or even the unexplained Blue Dot phenomenon.
“What do you think they are?”
[I don’t know.]
“I thought you said nothing could exist in N-SOL space?”
[Not exactly what I said, Tor.]
“Well, you said nothing could be ordered… something like that.”
[Yes, this isn’t expected.]
“Are there many of them?”
[Yes, a lot.]
“How many?”
[Thousands.]
“They’re curious?”
[Or they’re getting ready to attack.]
“Attack? You think they’re other… ships?”
[Could be.]
“Wh–”
[A lot of them have gathered behind us.]
“Why?”
[What makes you think I know?]
“Maybe they’re the ones who told Thy all it knew, the–”
[Clearly less forthcoming with us.]
“But–”
[Right, that’s it, I’m taking us out…]
A shudder went through the ship and Tor stumbled. DeVoid looked over the available information – the internal sensors were unable to identify the cause of the shock which the inertial dampening systems had been incapable of compensating against.
“What’s happened?”
DeVoid ignored him. It realised that only the faintest map of real space was still overlaid around them. The galaxy had inexplicably begun to fade following the recent shudder. Added to that, while it could no longer find their exact location, the map was sufficient to estimate their speed – they were slowing down. Impossible. Things did not slow in N-SOL space, and real space did not vanish. Again, DeVoid attempted to take them back into real space, but could not. The drive was clearly malfunctioning.
“DeVoid, what’s going on?”
[Not sure.]
“The clouds are changing.”
[Who needs sensors when I have you?]
“What’s happening?”
[It appears we’re slowing down.]
“In N-SOL space? I thought you said our speed would be constant–”
[Forget that.]
“Why?”
[Because did you hear what I just said? We’re slowing down!]
“But… what does that mean?”
[Absolutely no idea. The drive is unresponsive.]
“Oh–”
[That means we’re stuck.]
“In N-SOL space?”
[Where else?]
“But I thought you said the power was draining?”
[That’s a problem, yes. Slowly, don’t worry, but yes...]
“Oh.”
[And there are more entities appearing around us.]
“Entities?”
[Whatever you want to call them.]
“More?”
[Yes. Technically, if you’re being pedantic, there are more absences of N-SOL space now, which I can apparently detect using the N-SOL drive sensors. The absences are what I’m calling entities. Alright?]
“Yes… yes, I was just asking. More of them?”
[Do you want to stop repeating me? Yes. More. Additions. Newcomers. More.]
26
GIL
They had been stationary for the past few days as the craft-lect attempted to communicate with the sentinels, so far to no avail. Gil had given up on asking whether they were responding. She walked through the corridors, with 998 by her side, no longer needing it to stay ahead and lead. Passing the final turn, she walked towards the entrance to the table-chamber.
“There are four different classes of Troiji-lant, really?”
“By definition, Gil. But before we go in, I must–”
“Four! Not three? What about their affiliates?” she interrupted, fascinated.
“Yes, four. But Gil–”
“That is the maximum possible?”
“Yes, b–”
“That’s incred–”
Gil took a sharp intake of breath and shrieked. One-oh was sitting on his seat, facing the transparent wall, with four c-automs spinning about each other in front of him, firing weapons at him. They gyrated about each other, taking it in turns to focus their different coloured auras at him, and shooting glowing extensions towards him. Their attacks were all directed towards his head – lilac, light blue, amber-yellow and crimson sparks all in rapid sequence.
She took a quick look at 998, who hung there motionless, about to run forwards, when One-oh raised a hand.
“Gil, it’s okay.”
Confused, she paused.
“Really, Gil,” One-oh continued. “I’m just accessing the ship’s sensors.”
“What?”
“I have certain augmentations that allow me to interface with the ship. I’m surprised 998 didn’t mention them to you.”
The c-automs stopped their light display and moved further away from One-oh. He shifted his body to turn his head around, and Gil could see that he was fine. He wore a serious expression.
“I was about to,” 998 said.
One-oh turned back to look at the c-automs. “Thank you,” he said, and they departed together. As they moved past 998 and Gil, she dipped her head in apologetic greeting. Each of them flashed brightly, once.
She breathed deeply to slow her racing heart and walked forwards. “Don’t worry, it was just a surprise.”
She walked until she was standing next to One-oh, and they faced the transparent wall together. 998 had moved with her and split off to settle on the other side of One-oh. This side of the ship was not facing the sentinels or the Maspero planet, but instead showed the rest of the galaxy. They gazed at it for a few moments, before One-oh broke the silence.
“It can be hard to stop looking, can’t it?”
“Yes. It’s beautiful,” she said.
“You think it’s safe? Trying to revive the sentinel?” he asked her.
“I don’t know,” she said, taken aback by the forthright question.
“Have you… felt anything?”
“No, I’ve ignored it.”
“Hmm.”
“What is it?”
“It’s…” His voice trailed off.
“I believe One-oh thinks we should try another course of action,” 998 said, curtly.
“Another–”
“One that only you could provide.”
“Oh.” Her heartbeat picked up.
One-oh turned in his seat to directly face her. He looked conflicted.
“Gil–”
“But isn’t it dangerous?” she said.
“Yes, but I’
m not sure we have a choice, unless we move on and look elsewhere. The craft-lect’s attempts haven’t managed to awaken the sentinels in a way we can detect.”
“It is dangerous. There’s no guarantee–” 998 began.
[You’re right.]
The c-autom stopped speaking. Gil was momentarily caught out, forgetting that the craft-lect, of course, would have been listening to everything.
[My efforts have not succeeded.]
“I… I will try, if that’s what you think is right to do.”
“That’s all we can ask,” One-oh said.
*
Still in the table-chamber, Gil sat cross-legged on her seat. It had altered its structure to facilitate the position. One-oh sat opposite her and nodded encouragingly. She nodded back, stole a final apprehensive glance at 998, and closed her eyes.
She relaxed her body and then her mind. Focusing on the whispers, she allowed them to flourish, transforming into that alluring, deceptive song. She joined with the sensespace, allowing them to merge into one another.
Her presence expanded, and she became aware of her surroundings. She could have chosen to explore it all – the ship, the c-automs, One-oh and everything else – but she reined in her intrigue. That was not what she needed to do.
She searched, concentrating on her desire to reach the sentinels. She needed to be in control, there was work to do. She would dictate her use of the sensespace.
“Is everything okay, Gil?” She dimly heard One-oh speaking and willed her body to nod.
Moving her presence out past the ship was easy, it meant that she was less distracted by all that was inside. She swept through the vacuum, which felt surprisingly dense, not as empty as she had assumed. Pushing her gaze out, she sensed the presence of the objects up ahead. The sentinels. Already, she could differentiate between the three of them. Never had her abilities through the sensespace had such clarity or range.
