Alix watched as Nick, Maisie, and Figaro entered the Gargantua hollow, bringing with them a silver sphere exactly like the one the Aexons had. And also nothing like the one the Aexons had.
“RAINRAINRAINRAINiscoming is coming and viene una gran tormenta del cielo designation HUMAN subclass EARTHEN EARTHEN EARTHEN—” The sphere babbled and vibrated in Nick’s hands.
“What the hell is that and where the hell were you two?” Lyle asked, eyeing the sphere with vague concern.
“It’s one of the Metamorphs’ compendiums,” Alix said hurrying closer to get a better look at it. Unlike the one the Aexons had captured, this one sported a devastating crack in the middle, its tangled cybernetic innards exposed for the world to see. “This must be the one they lost in the storm.”
“Très effrayant बहुत बड़ा subclass CYCLONE subclass APOCALYPSE 离开离开离开 leaveleave evacuationrecommended subclass TANGO—”
“Yeah, it wasn’t looking too hot when we traced its distress signal,” said Nick, patting the battered device on its side. “That’s why we went off-route—then got captured by Aexons and rescued by Fig but that’s a whole other thing. We found the sphere hiding out in some sort of burrow under a tree. Flew out at us, actually. As much as it can fly, at least.”
Nick threw the sphere up in the air to demonstrate. The sphere bobbled wildly in the air, did a half-hearted loop-de-loop, then dropped right back into Nick’s arms with a whine.
“This unit this unit this unit goes ring around the rosie genus ROSA with a pocket full of posie.”
Figaro scuttled up Nick’s shoulder and stared down at the sphere. “Methinks the poor fellow has weathered a few too many storms.”
Maisie flinched as a talozi went past her. “You think the Metamorphs will be able to fix it?”
“I don’t know. They can’t even remember their homeworld coordinates,” said Alix. “It’d be pretty lucky if they retained the skills needed to repair this. And they technically didn’t build it, right? It was their Masters.”
The Masters. A mysterious term for a mysterious species. The whole thing both fascinated Alix and bothered her. The Masters had sent the spheres and the Metamorphs here to study the planet of Deimos X. All Alix knew of them was that and the image that had just flashed on an ancient starship console. Incredibly advanced tech in the form of nanobot servants. Cyber compendiums of seemingly limitless knowledge. A city straight out of dreams. It wasn’t much, but these scant clues combined suggested a species of dazzling brilliance and power. A species like that stands out, makes history. It doesn’t just disappear from the face of the galaxy without a trace.
So where were the Masters?
“Seems like it still has some trace of functionality. A smidge.” Nick shrugged. “Maybe we’ll be able to pry some clues from it.”
“PIZZA SUBCLASS PINEAPPLE.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Figaro drawled. He leapt from Nick’s shoulder onto Alix’s. “Well, lucky for you, Boss, their hovership is still full of juice and their signal booster’s working fine. We were able to send a message back to the station. They’re sending someone over to give y’all a refill and help haul all this back.”
“Oh, thank God.” Alix let out a relieved sigh. She glanced back at the console screen, still dead black. “While we wait on that, let me fill you in on what we found . . .”
***
Once she’d returned to the station hours later, all Alix wanted to do was collapse into her bed and binge the most braindead Martian cowboy thriller show she could find (and there were many). But, there were still more important things to tackle. So instead of her bed, after her shower it was straight to the techies’ lab with Figaro.
“Zoom in there.” Rax the Metamorph pointed and leaned closer to Alix’s tablet, nearly tipping himself over before Alix held out a hand to catch him. It was just the three of them in the lab at the moment, though some of the engineers would be in soon to test modifications on what few feeble forcefield emitters the station had on hand.
“Whoa there, buddy. You forget how to balance too?” Figaro laughed.
Alix let Rax straighten himself back out. She had the image from the starship console pulled up on her tablet, the bright spire of the Masters’ city glowing on her screen. She zoomed in on the tip of the spire as requested, but it didn’t yield any detail. This was a second-hand image, after all. A mediocre copy of what was now locked within the broken console.
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“Sorry, I’m still getting the hang of this body.” Rax looked down at his hands in wonder. Using a rudimentary design modeled after the remnants found in the hollow, station engineers had used the 3D printer to pop out new bodies for the Metamorphs to inhabit. No one wanted to find out how much longer the Metamorphs could stay melded with the parasitic fungus before being drained again. Rax was the second of his crew to slip into this new form. The plastic of his new skin was an opaque black, and the borrowed station uniform he wore was baggy on his thin frame. His eyes, a bundle of nanobots working in concert, shimmered purple.
“How’s it feel?” Alix asked, looking him up and down.
“Stiff,” Rax admitted. He flexed his hands and tried out a few experimental expressions with his face. “Not that I’m not grateful! It’s just that this material and design hasn’t really got the flexibility of our old bodies. I feel sorta like a doll.”
“Well, it’s only temporary! We can always tweak the design later,” Alix assured him brightly. She showed him the screen. “Well?”
“Geez, it’s so fuzzy. It definitely jogs my memory.” Rax closed one eye and scratched his head. “Like, I remember looking up at that building there. I remember walking through that street. I remember looking up at that planet next to someone I cared about . . .”
Someone I cared about. Alix thought of Lyle with a pang. They hadn’t said anything to each other about the kiss yet. She hadn’t gotten any messages from him since their return to the station.
“ . . . but I can’t remember their face,” Rax continued quietly. His hand went into a fist. “I can’t remember the name of the street, or anyone else walking along it. Gah, this is frustrating. I can’t even read the bit of text here, but I know it’s important. It’s desperately important.”
“I get that sense too,” said Figaro, his eye lenses extending and closing in on the symbols. “I feel like it’s buried somewhere in my head, like the meaning is just barely out of my reach. Lost with all the other weird memories I got from interfacing with you Metamorphs. It’s so . . . fucking annoying. I’m annoyed with your dumb ass, Rax!”
“Me? It’s not my fault! And my ass is not dumb!”
“Your ass is cheap plastic, is what it is.”
“It is not! Wait . . . is it?”
“Er . . .” Alix patted Rax on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t say it’s ‘cheap’. I’d say it’s economical!”
“Oh my God.” Rax dragged his hands over his face and fell to his knees with a musical wail. “What has become of me?”
Alix fought back a laugh. She was about to switch her tablet back off when a message came in through the employee webmail thread.
FROM: Fynn Werner <[email protected]>
BCC: Alix Daring <[email protected] >
SUBJECT: HQ Support
Hello Everyone,
I’ve got word from HQ on this whole storm situation, and I don’t want to alarm you all, but it’s not great. It’s actively bad. It’s nightmare fuel.
As we feared, we’re working on too short of notice. They’re sending a starship to transport heavy-duty forcefield emitters to us along with other supplies, but even at the starship’s top speed, They can’t make it to Deimos X any sooner than ten days. You all may note that this is THREE DAYS after the storm is due to grind us all down into goddamn worm food. I’ve contacted the IC disaster relief agency and that’s also a bust. Deimos X is so far out of Interstellar Collective territory, there’s basically no one who can get to us in time.
So, we’re on our own. We’re going to have to figure out a way to save the station on our own. I will give updates as things develop. I have faith that you all possess the intelligence, creativity, and discipline necessary to solve this pressing issue.
Now, if anyone needs me, I’ll be having a panic attack in my office.
Sincerely,
Director Werner
“I figured as much,” Alix said after she read the email out to Figaro and Rax. She sighed and shrugged. “This is the sort of hazard that comes with working on wild planets. The tools of greater civilization aren’t in arm’s reach any more. But no need to worry, we’ve got this! Right?”
“Pfft,” said Figaro.
“That’s the spirit.”
Figaro began to say something else, but his words were quickly drowned out by a sudden, violent roaring outside. The walls seemed to creak as the roaring grew. Alix hurried to the nearest window in the lab and looked out. Out in the nearby jungle, the trees bent against the wind, their leaves shuddering furiously. A stray malar was thrown by the wind from the branch it was clinging to. It shrieked as it tumbled past the window, its wings beating futilely against the onslaught before disappearing back into the jungle.
Alarms throughout the station began to blare as a voice spoke through the ceiling intercoms.
“ALERT: METEOROLOGICAL ABERRANCE DETECTED. SEEK SHELTER IN THE BASEMENT LEVEL. POSSIBLE EXTREME WEATHER EVENT INCOMING. SEEK SHELTER. STAY AWAY FROM DOORS AND WINDOWS. SEEK SHELTER IN THE BASEMENT LEVEL. ALERT . . .”
The wind howled louder outside, and dark clouds rolled in above.