In the inky blackness of the deep sea, the triangular escape pod sped, slicing through the deep blue like a tiny white needle, leaving a trail of bubbles in its wake. Pushed on all sides by the monstrous pressure of the miles of water surrounded it, the minuscule craft, designed to only hold one person, pushed forward resolutely, desperately.

Pushed forward because it had nothing else to do. Nothing else to live for.

The vehicle existed to push forward. Into what? Towards what future? No one knew. All that its basic programming told it was if it didn’t move forward, it would die. And its living, breathing cargo would perish alongside it.

So it pushed.

The proximity alerts blared in the craft’s mainframe. Of course, this was all internal, and the boy huddled inside did not hear anything but the bleak silence of the abyssal sea. A huge black shape loomed in front of the tiny craft, jagged spires of twisted metal reachting into the black blue above. Ribbons of torn plastic drifted in the invisible currents of the water. Motors whirred, fins jerked, and pod turned infinitesimally slowly, heading towards the gargantuan black shape that hung like the shell of some ancient monstrosity, sleeping, waiting to be awoken. Slowly, it moved towards a gaping hole in the side of that thing, that obscenely huge thing, ready to land.

Phut

With a screech of metal that was muffled by the water to a sonorous wail, landing struts, launched by a breath of compressed gas shot out of slots in the side of the craft, digging deeply into the flesh of the steel ground. The lights on the craft slowly dimmed and went out. And then the pod shifted.

Reformed.

Within the pod, arms of metal moved towards the boy, holding sheets of white scelerium. The metal clicked into place around him, slowly forming an exoskeleton with a last hiss, the final struts were slammed and bolted into place and a clear coltrite dome fitted over his face.

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The pod’s triangular surface opened like a flower, letting metric tons of pressurised water into the cockpit and slamming the boy against the far wall. “Adjusting pressure,” the boy tried to move and suddenly stopped. “Please refrain from making any unnecessary movements.”

With a sudden whir, the exposure stood up, having adjusted to the crushing pressure of the deep ocean. Moving his domed helmet from side to side the boy asked: “What is my name?”

“...You do not remember?”

“Everything seems so far away.”

The system mainframe paused. “I do not know your name. But...”

“I will give you a new one. From now on, you are known as Kinon. In the old language that was spoken by your ancestors, “Ki” means to cheat, and “Non” means many things. Black. Nothingness. Emptiness.”

“It can also mean “The Abyss.” You have cheated the abyss of its prize. Continue to do so.”

“How about just Kin?”

“Your name, your rules.”

The boy thought for a moment. Kin. Yes, I will be called Kin. “I am Kin. Kin. Kin.” He laughed. “I have a new name.”

“You might want to look around.”

“Yes, erm...what’s your name, Miss Computer?”

“...” The lights on his exposure pulsed. “I am the Assistive Intelligence Matrix M1-0N.”

“So I’ll just call you...Mion.”

“Mion...Mion...Sounds decent.”

“How old are you, Mion?”

“It has been seven years since my date of manafacture.”

“Well then, I’m older than you, Mion. So you have to listen to me.”

The lights on his exosuit flashed red. “Just...just go look around.”

Clicking on the floodlight mounted on his shoulder, Kin raked it over the dark stomach of his landing ground, his Bay of Providence. Nothing much, just the normal spikes of metal jutting from the ruined ground. Some bodies floating, bloated like putrid sacks of flesh, which admittedly scared Kin a bit, but he had been warned to expect them in the yearly safety briefing. They couldn’t hurt him, anyway. Kin spied a movement in the corner of his eyes and turned around, clunking clumsily down on the ground. A flash of white wormed into a derelict door. Although he had only saw it for a moment, Kin was severely unnerved by its visage. Pale albino, with a mouth positively brimming with needle-teeth.

It had no eyes.

Casting his eyes to the top of the bay, Kin saw rusted letters adorning the abandoned walls. If he squinted, he could just make out the words “Research...Biological...134”

This wasn’t an outpost. It wasn’t even an abandoned outpost, which Kin would honestly have been chuffed to land in. This was a “Research Biological 134” and something was very wrong. Something was living here.

“Mion?”

“Yes?”

“Where are we?”