by M. R. Forbes
13
“You’re last,” Benhil said as Abbey made her way onto the bridge. “You have to kiss Keeper.”
“I’m the boss,” Abbey replied. “I don’t have to kiss anybody.”
“You’re saying you weren’t kissing Imp in your quarters?” Pik said.
“No. I was eating. And then I was sleeping. Grow up.”
“Yeah, grow up,” Bastion said. “You ugly mug.”
Pik laughed.
“Did you name the dragon yet?” Abbey asked.
“Not yet. I’m still thinking about it. I want it to be unique.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Benhil said.
“How are you feeling, Queenie?” Gant asked.
“Much better,” Abbey said. Whatever Keeper had given her, it smelled and tasted awful, but it had restored her energy and the Gift.
She paused to take a good look at the bridge. It was buried inside part of the Covenant, away from the hull. Instead of a transparent viewport, a system of ultra high-resolution cameras beamed space in and projected it around them. Not that there was much to look at while they were in FTL. Keeper had disabled the view, replacing with a cool blue light that radiated around them, washing the different control stations in a relaxing tone.
The stations themselves reminded her of relaxation pods that were common on Republic warships; self-contained units that provided a range of media and entertainment, as well as a heavy dose of overall comfort. The seats of the bridge stations were well-padded with the Seraphim gel material and heavily adjustable. Each station also had a set of augmented reality goggles to provide enhanced data appropriate to the task, along with a holographic control system that made it easy to update the myriad onboard systems.
Or at least, Abbey assumed it would make it easy. So far Keeper was controlling everything, to the extent that she wasn’t sure if they would need the bridge at all. Still, it was good for them to know where to find it and how to use it, which was why she had gathered them all there.
“I know we’ve had our share of challenges over the last few days,” Abbey said, passing her eyes over each of them as they gathered in front of her. “I want you all to know that I’m proud of you for your parts in all of this. Every one of us is a piece of something bigger, and we succeed or fail as a team.”
“Hell, yeah,” Pik said. “Ree-jects!”
“Ree-jects!” the others said.
“I’d like to tell you that things are going to get easier. They aren’t. My decision to lead us to the Extant was based on the belief that the Covenant was more than the Shard’s flagship. That the real Covenant, the promise the One made to the Seraphim, could be a valuable tool in the mission ahead. It won’t. At least, not on its own.”
“Fragging hell,” Pik said.
“That’s what I said,” Abbey said. “I had my thirty seconds of despair. And then I remembered who we are, and why we’re here. I remembered what we’re fighting for. We didn’t wind up in Hell because we were rotten or evil. We were in Hell because we broke the rules to do what needed to be done to help the ones we loved.”
“I was never in Hell,” Erlan said.
“Shut up, Nerd,” Bastion replied. “That’s not the point.”
“I know. I’m just saying.”
“Most of you were never in Hell,” Abbey said. “But you all have your reasons for being here, and I think they all line up. The point is that we know better than to believe there’s only way to get the job done. That some rules need to be broken.”
“You can take that to the bank and deposit it,” Bastion said.
“And we will,” Abbey said. “I lost hope, and for that I’m sorry. But I also found new hope in my belief in all of you, and in our ability to get the job done.”
“Damn right,” Pik said.
“Hell, yeah,” Benhil agreed.
“This is our fight to win or lose. Our galaxy to save or see destroyed. I don’t know about you, but I intend to save it.”
“We’re with you, Queenie,” Gant said.
“I know,” Abbey replied. “And I’m grateful for that. I know I can be demanding at times. I know I can be a bitch at times. Don’t ever think I don’t appreciate all of you.”
“Even me?” Uriel said. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You will. I still intend to blow the shit out of Thraven’s Gate.” She shifted her attention to Keeper. “Keeper, I need to know what you and this ship’s capabilities are.”
“How do you mean, Queenie?” Keeper replied.
“You said the Covenant has no weapons systems to speak of. That’s a problem, especially considering how big this thing is.”
“The Seraphim had no use for weapons. There had been no conflict in Elysium for thousands of years. The One also shunned violent conflict.”
“I prefer peace, too,” Abbey said. “But that isn’t what we’ve got. Considering this ship is nearly a planet unto itself, I assume you have manufacturing facilities of some kind on board?”
“The Covenant has facilities to produce whatever is needed, given suitable raw materials,” Keeper replied. “But I am not capable of creating weapons.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t possess the technical diagrams necessary to build them.”
“I can provide diagrams,” Ruby said. “At least to the weapons available on the Faust.”
“Even so, my directives will not allow me to produce anything that would directly harm another living creature. There is a reason the Asura remained on the Covenant for all of these years.”
“Wait a second,” Bastion said. “I saw you kill a bunch of them after the power came back on.”
“Yeah, you were like an iron ninja,” Pik said.
“I can not produce additional weapons,” Keeper said. “This physical extension was altered by the Archchancellors and directed to protect the Shardship. That is what I did.”
“Then you’re saying that your programming can be altered?” Gant said.
Keeper didn’t respond.
“Where’s the interface to your systems?” Abbey asked.
Keeper didn’t want to tell her. That much was clear.
“Keeper,” she said again.
“Inside the Core,” it said reluctantly. “Queenie, I don’t think altering my directives is the optimal course of action.”
“I don’t care. The Seraphim should have updated you years ago.”
“Queenie,” Uriel said. ‘No offense, but yesterday you were mad that the Seraphim did too much to try to fight back against the Nephilim, and now you’re saying they didn’t do enough?”
“I was wrong,” Abbey admitted. “I blamed your kind for screwing up the naniates, but the One didn’t leave you any other options. He assumed that greed and selfishness had evolved out of you, but he was wrong. Once the Shardships went through the Gate and were on their own the true nature of at least some of your kind began to resurface.”
“I don’t get it,” Pik said.
“The Nephilim were never supposed to happen. The One believed the Shard would maintain complete control, and that by providing the means to connect the Seraphim spread out across the distant universes they would remain content in their mission. The story about the conversation Lucifer had with the Shard? The one where the Shard said they couldn’t go home? It was bullshit. I don’t know how it became so pervasive that even those loyal to the Shard came to believe it, but it was a lie.”
“How do you know?” Jequn asked.
“Keeper, tell her.”
“Where do you think Lucifer obtained the plans to the Elysium Gate?” Keeper said.
“You mean we could have gone home?” Uriel asked.
“It was always an option. The Seraphim weren’t slaves, even if Lucifer wanted you to believe you were.”
“Why didn’t you do anything about it?”
“There was nothing that could be done.”
“I don’t believe this,” Jequn said, shaking her head. “How
could Lucifer convince so many to follow him? To kill for him?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” Benhil asked. “The same thing has been happening through most of human history.”
“The same thing is happening right now with Thraven,” Phlenel said.
“The point is, we have to find a way to put an end to it,” Abbey said. “We can’t undo the past, but we can change the future. The One didn’t want the Seraphim to return to violence. He did what he could to steer them away from it, but it wasn’t enough. I appreciate the idea, but in my opinion, he was fragged from the start.”
“And now we’re fragged,” Bastion said.
“It seems like we should have left the Focus contaminated,” Trinity said.
“No,” Abbey said. “The Focus was nearly depleted because it couldn’t recycle properly. It needed to be cleansed and restored. Maybe the Shard didn’t want me. Maybe he wanted someone less volatile. Maybe he wanted someone who was more likely to follow the rules and more willing to take commands. I don’t know. What I do know is I’m what he’s got, and you’re what I’ve got, and together we’re going to do our best to end this cycle and get some kind of order back in the universe. And to do that we need help, starting with some weapons.”
“Big ones,” Pik said.
“Queenie,” Keeper said.
Abbey put up her hand to stop him. “It’s unfortunate, but sometimes violence does solve things. You said I’m the Chosen? Then stop arguing with me and start falling into line.”
“I’m only trying to protect you.”
“You can’t. Nobody can. We have to protect ourselves.”
“I’m not permitted to alter the directives myself.”
“But you can give me access to your systems?”
“I can provide access to anyone you permit.”
“Good. I’m assuming your interface is written in Seraphim?”
“Aye, Queenie.”
“Gant, I want you and Cherub to look into updating Keeper’s programming. Keeper, assist them however you can. Ruby, get whatever data you can provide from the Faust. I expect the Covenant to carry some level of offensive capability by the time we get back to the Republic, if not sooner.”
“Yes, Queenie,” Ruby said.
“Queenie,” Gant said. “I don’t know if I can-”
“I wasn’t asking,” Abbey replied. She wasn’t going to let him keep doubting himself.
“Aye, Queenie,” Gant said.
“Uriel, Imp told me you have some intel on the Nephilim that could be useful. Both of you meet me back in my quarters for a debriefing.”
“Aye, Queenie,” Uriel said.
“Okay, Void, Joker, Pudding, you’re on Asura patrol. Split into two teams and see how much ground you can cover. Tag their locations, but don’t engage.”
“What do you want me to do?” Erlan asked.
“See if you can figure out how to fly this thing. Ruby, help Nerd out when you’re done retrieving the data.”
“Aye, Queenie,” Erlan, and Ruby said.
“You all have a job to do. Let’s get to it.”
“Reejects!” Pik said again.
“Reejects!” the others called back.
14
“Queenie,” Keeper said as she walked onto the bridge of the Covenant. “We have arrived.”
Abbey looked out at the view of space being projected into the room. For a moment, she felt almost as if she were floating alone in the center of it, until the corner of one of the crew stations caught her eye.
“I guess it’s true,” she said, staring out into the black. “Space all looks the same.”
Keeper responded by raising his hand and calling up a secondary projection, showing a small star map.
“These are the planets we’re aware of,” he said. “I’m certain there are more, but the data that’s been gathered is extrapolated from the Shard’s initial scan of the universe, and intel scrubbed from Nephilim sources.”
“Nephilim sources?”
“Captured mainframes, mostly. There haven’t been many, or the map would be more complete.”
“So these are the planets you know the Nephilim have settled?”
“Aye, Queenie.”
“What about the ones that will support life but you aren’t sure of?”
A second dusting of worlds appeared on the map.
“It’s been a long time. What are the odds most of those planets are occupied?”
“Relatively high.”
“Any sign that we’re being scanned?”
“Negative, Queenie. We are still some distance away from the nearest occupied or potentially occupied planet. It would not be wise to approach in the Covenant.”
“You can say that again. Start scanning for transmissions. See if you can pinpoint anyone else out here.
“Aye, Queenie.”
The hours aboard the Covenant had passed in a blur, especially once Abbey set each of the Rejects to a specific task. She had expected them all to approach their jobs like professionals, but she was amazed by the enthusiasm with which all of them had taken up their roles, including Keeper.
Gant and Uriel managed to unlock the AI’s directives within a few hours, again proving to her that her friend wasn’t losing his mind at nearly the rate he believed. Either that, or he was a lot smarter than he realized. What they had found in Keeper’s programming had been a blend of surprising and expected, and Gant had called her down to the Core to take a look at it herself.
She quickly discovered that her interaction with the Focus had left her with the ability to read and understand the language, which consequently allowed her to decipher at least a few of the algorithms that made the AI tick. The code itself was simple and well-organized, following similar principles of order that she had been trained on. The directives were equally simple: Keep all systems of the Covenant in working order. Obey the Chosen. Create nothing that could be used to kill.
There were others, of course. Acceptable power levels, system prioritization, general functional specifications, and guidelines. They were sub directives to the main orders, all of them rolled into a package that the system referred to as TCM.
Abbey didn’t know what TCM meant, and she didn’t worry about it when she deleted the no-weapons order and asked Ruby to pass the designs for the Faust’s plasma cannons to Keeper.
The Covenant had started to change almost immediately afterward. The pulses within the Core accelerated, the disbursal of energy intensifying. At first, Abbey wondered if she had made a mistake to give Keeper the new freedom. It sensed her apprehension and calmed her fears.
“Do not be alarmed. I am beginning to reconfigure the Covenant with the systems you have provided. You have seen for yourself that I am incapable of harming you.”
It was another twenty hours or so before she learned what reconfiguring meant. Erlan had called her to the bridge, excitedly pointing at the internal diagnostic system he had discovered at the main command station. It displayed a three-dimensional projection of the Covenant that could be manipulated and zoomed into, allowing a complete fly-through of the starship.
Even as they watched, parts of the outer shell of the Shardship were changing. Dozens of thick metallic lines reached out to the tall spires of apartments, breaking them down and seeming to absorb them, removing large chunks of surface and reconstituting them elsewhere along the hull. In the hour she had stood with Erlan, she had seen a residential spire vanish, replaced with four plasma cannons that were five times the size of what the Faust carried.
She asked Keeper about the new development, and it shared a completed model of the Covenant. The ship remained spherical in shape, but the outer hull of that shape was nearly unrecognizable from its current form. The total volume of living space was cut, countered with hundreds of weapons batteries and shield generators that bristled from all angles.
“Are you sure we have the energy to power all of these systems?” she had asked Keeper.
“Mor
e than enough,” he replied.
Of course, the transformation wasn’t the only activity on the ship. Two groups of Rejects had spent a majority of their time tracking down the remaining Asura, scouring the Covenant for the wayward creatures. The amount of ground they were able to cover was impressive, allowing them to get a good handle on the situation. The Asura hadn’t strayed far from the Transversal, and ninety percent of the stragglers had been marked within a straight-line kilometer from the Seraphim device. There were more of them than Abbey expected, with nearly a thousand of the creatures discovered hiding in a single secondary access shaft, the frog-like beings curled into a fetal position and hardly moving.
Conserving their energy, according to Keeper. It was the reason they had all become so listless with the death of King. The Asura General provided more than leadership. They were also dependent on him for sustenance.
Abbey had found a new level of respect for Bastion once she had gone to see them, one that made up for his nerves on the way to the Shardship. She had looked into the shaft, her head only inches away from one of the creatures. It had shifted only slightly, enough that it could look on her with a large, round eye. It had shivered and shied away, the furthest thing she could imagine from a threat and an action that had only led her to feel sorry for the things. Bastion had been right to question the slaughter, and she was glad he had given her reason to stop it.
She knew Keeper didn’t approve. The Archchancellors had programmed it to despise the Asura and to see them as nothing more than pests or parasites. They bore no purpose to it. No reason for living. They were like mosquitos back on Earth. Good for nothing.
She didn’t agree and had considered searching out that part of its code and deleting it as well. She had seen the directive. She knew it had to follower her orders, no matter what opposing logic it might want to adhere to. The Asura were safe as long as she said they were.
“I’ve picked up a disterium plume sixteen AU from our current position,” Keeper said.
