CHAPTER 22 PART 1 OF 2

HAPPY TO SEE YOU

Deep silence and absolute darkness settled in as Lucas moved away from the opening. To Korah this was a nightmare, but to him it felt like going home. His anxiety fell away, like shedding a skin that had grown too tight. In a place like this, his tool kit put him firmly in control. He took a moment to scry through the Scouts ahead and behind, only darkness and the oddly uniform tunnel. The two Scouts with him scurried over every nearby surface, filling out the details in his 3d Map’s rendition of reality.

The tunnel was built out of carved rock. Bricks that had been so finely cut as to make the joins nearly invisible. Everything within was so perfectly symmetrical that Lucas got the impression of it being machine made. That was strange enough for this world, not to mention how obviously ancient it was. If there had once been advanced technology here, what happened to the people who used it? These tunnels clearly had a purpose. On closer inspection, what he assumed was irrigation channels could easily have been tracks for some kind of transport device. He was not seeing with his own eyes now, but that of his Scout who scuttled in close to look directly at whatever he was concentrating on. His dark vision was good, but the spiders could see clearly in near-absolute darkness.

Lucas set off southwards, towards the direction of the Slavers camp. He had been walking for only an hour or so when a sudden movement on the rock wall made him jump. He instantly activated Stealth and watched a small, square section of the rock drop down like a sliding panel. Inside was a compartment, from which a basketball sized orb of metal floated out. It had a cluster of appendages hanging out of the bottom like squid tentacles, each tipped with some kind of tool. A belt was orbiting around its centre, from which lasers strobed back and forth, scanning Lucas like a shopping docket.

Lucas, his spiders, and the orb all stood perfectly still for a tense moment as everyone waited to see what would happen next. Nothing did. The orb simply floated there. His Stealth ability was apparently useless against whatever sensory equipment it had, but it didn't appear to have any hostile intentions.

As his initial shock wore off, curiosity set in and he took a cautious step towards it. It floated a step away from him, further down the tunnel. He walked towards it and it continued to float ahead of him, matching his pace exactly. From the band of sensory equipment that circumnavigated the orb, blue lasers occasionally scanned the environment.

Lucas watched it closely as he continued down the tunnel, the robot floating ahead of him. His Scouts relaxed as his state of anxiety calmed, taking their cues from the tension in his Aura. They paid no attention to the orb at all. Lucas supposed the Spiders required an Aura to recognise a life form. One of its appendages held a small light, which it occasionally lifted in Lucas’ direction and held it out for a few seconds while it flickered at him.

They continued in this manner for a long time, the orb emitting a flickering light from one of its little tentacles periodically. Not having much else to look at, Lucas eventually noticed that the flickering was not random. It was rhythmic, always repeating the same pattern. Was it trying to communicate? Eventually they reached the place where the path became blocked by a huge slab of stone. The paths intersected here, two passages branching out on either side. The grooves on the raised walkway split like railway tracks, vindicating Lucas’s guess that they were used for some kind of transport.

Lucas focused on his Map. The branches to the left and right both had the same symmetrical stone tunnels; they ran on past the point that the Scouts had given up and turned back. The central path, beyond the slab of stone that blocked the passage, had already been explored by the Scout that had climbed through the ventilation hole above the slab. There the path descended then evened out into a large chamber with several adjacent rooms. Lucas zoomed out, confirming again that the blocked central path led directly towards the Slaver’s camp.

The orb had floated to his left, towards a flat section of wall that was conspicuous for how it broke up the otherwise symmetrical uniformity. When he approached, the orb reached out a tentacle and touched the wall. Some strange symbols lit up, and a large section of the wall next to the blocked passage slid open, filling the tunnels with the sound of grinding stone. A Scout scurried over to peer in, revealing a set of stairs leading down. The orb drifted part way down the stairs and flashed its flickering light, obviously expecting him to follow.

Lucas sent his Scouts down instead, waiting for them to do some reconnaissance. The staircase led down into a rectangular room full of debris. Extending out of one wall was a blocky shape holding a diagonal panel that reminded Lucas of a vending machine for train tickets. When he started to Scry the first thing he noticed was the deep rhythmic thudding, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Thum-thum, Thum-thum. It was louder here, which made him feel uneasy.

He focused on the room, trying to ignore the sound. The panel on the blocky shape was embedded with a lattice of crystal that looked suspiciously like some kind of interface. A faint light was shining out from underneath the rubble that lay thick around the corners of the room. Returning his perspective to his own eyes, he descended the stairs. The orb floated a few feet ahead of him, repeating its flickering pattern.

Strange red dust coated the floor, about an inch thick and incredibly fine. His first foot-fall puffed a cloud of it into the air, where it lingered as if it had no weight. The ventilation from the tunnel above didn’t flow down here and a thick metallic scent filled the room. The orb floated over to the blocky shape and went stationary. It produced a flashlight from the tip of one of its dangling appendages and illuminated the face of the shape in cold light.

It was clearly trying to lead him to something specific, but he didn't trust it. He moved to inspect the rubble that covered the strange light. Moving the rubble stirred up a lot more of the red dust. Lucas held his breath as he dug, not sure if it was dangerous. The buried light turned out to be a crystal the size of his fist, shining with a dull blue glow. He Analysed it.

[https://i.imgur.com/9OwCCsH.jpg]

Korah had mentioned the Ancients; could they be the ‘Makers’ his popup was talking about? He attempted to probe the crystal with his own Mana. If it was Mana he could use, he should be able to sense the power, but he got a complete blank. The only thing that gave him an indication that it had stored power was the way it glowed with blue light.

He stashed it in his inventory. Three Power Crystals were buried in the rubble. The red dust he disturbed while moving never settled, creating a thick cloud. Rather than choking the whole room up, he stopped and had his Scouts do the rest of the investigation. They scurried through the rubble as Lucas Scryed through their perspective. Apart from the blocky panel, which the orb was still perched over, there didn't seem to be anything else interesting in the room. The orb repeated its flickering pattern at him when he turned his attention to it.

“Alright, fine.”

He moved to the panel. It was square, about a metre high and wide, and its face was embedded with a lattice of fine lines made of crystal. Putting his hands on the panel made him immediately aware of a structure of Mana patterns within. They were obviously designed to accept a person’s Mana in order to activate.

Lucas allowed his Mana to flow into the patterns and the lattice panel began lighting up selectively. In the same way that numbers can be represented by little dashes in different configurations on a digital clock, parts of the lattice of crystal lit up while other parts stayed dark, creating rows of strange symbols. Stars with varying amounts of points, circles with varying amounts of dots, many whirling patterns, it was clearly some kind of script. The alien writing rolled from the left to right along the face of the panel. Lucas used Analyse on it.

[https://i.imgur.com/beAVODz.jpg]

Analyse came back with a prompt. The way it mentioned ‘organic Mana’ seemed to imply that the robots couldn’t operate it. The popup from the Power Crystal had described it as Artificial Mana, he wasn't sure about the distinction, but presumably if the robots didn't have Auras they didn't have organic Mana either. Is that why this orb needed him? If the Makers had intended to forbid their creations from using certain interfaces, this sort of design would make sense.

He used Analyse again, this time sending an entire Mana point in and following it with his awareness to explore the object in detail. The patterns within were very simple, compared to those of a Nexus. Basic conditions that branched off logic gates and seemed connected to a few nearby objects.

As he traced the pathways, the popup description from Analyse turned into a loading screen, similar to what had happened when creating the Brood Nexus design interface. Lucas waited for it to finish loading.

An interface screen filled the popup with text scrolling down the centre.

[https://i.imgur.com/BHAeZYk.jpg]

The language had a distinctly ‘modern earth’ tone to it, but that could just be how programming interfaces tended to work, even on alien worlds. Or maybe that was just the way his Analyse ability was translating it.

Whatever was going on down here, it was apparently under a quarantine lockdown. As a test, Lucas mentally selected Lock on the Maintenance Office Door. He could sense his Mana moving within the interface and paid close attention to the structure.

Is the Mana organic?-Yes. Is the door unlocked?-Yes. Has the user selected to lock the door?-Yes. With the conditions met, the action sequence fired. He heard the door at the top of the staircase, from which he had entered the room, slide shut.

He opened it again, listening to the grinding stone as the door opened. He then tried Unlock on the Power Crystal Storage Cabinet. Nothing happened. It could be that the ‘cabinet’ was now the pile of rubble he had extricated the Power Crystals from.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Next he tried the Transit Tunnel Door, assuming it to be the slab of stone above that blocked his way. A new notification appeared when he selected Unlock.

[https://i.imgur.com/0rfVbAY.jpg]

Lucas hesitated. That sounded ominous, but he didn't have any idea what was being quarantined, or what ‘functionality’ might mean. It would have been great if it could give him an idea of what ‘scenario 1092’ was exactly.

Lucas weighed the possibilities for a while, before deciding that there was a good chance it would be worse for his enemies than it was for him. If something dreadful was released by lifting quarantine, at least it would happen right under the Slavers camp. He highly doubted that some world ending catastrophe would be just sitting here behind a lump of stone, but if so… Was that really so bad?

He found himself chuckling at the notion of unleashing apocalyptic chaos on his new world. The silence and perfect darkness made it all too easy for emotional echoes from his time in the cave to well up from some hidden corner of his mind. Familiar ominous lights began glowing over imaginary skies and a satisfying catharsis settled over him.

Lucas shook his head. It was disturbingly easy to relapse into those patterns, especially here in the darkness. He wasn't sure how much they compromised his judgement, but it did seem to him that most kinds of disaster could end up making his position better. He would have advanced notice and information about the danger before his enemies, and general chaos was likely to give him opportunities that he could exploit. It was his enemies that had a lot to lose.

It occurred to him that he had begun to consider any nearby settled peoples to be likely enemies. That was a long stretch from his outlook when he first arrived in this world and wanted nothing more than the comforts of civilization. The truth was, it was likely that the people of this world would ultimately see him and his spiders as something to stamp out.

If the established powers had other ‘disasters’ to deal with, he would have an easier time getting himself and his Brood into a secure long term position before they turned their attention to him. In any case, he had to make a call here and now. This was a clear way forward. He turned his attention back to the interface and selected Yes.

The sound of a large slab of stone shifting echoed in the tunnels above. That was about all he could do, so he withdrew the Power Crystal. The little robot switched off its spotlight and detached from its perch above the panel, floating back towards the stairs expectantly.

Lucas climbed back up the stairs, happy to leave behind the stale metallic air and red dust for the freshly ventilated tunnel. The orb-robot floated over to the central path, which was now open. The rhythmic thumping sound was audible to his own ears now, Thum- thum, Thum-thum, resonating deeply though the stone.

The passage that sloped downwards was made of metal, not stone, Lucas realised as he stepped onto the smooth surface. His floating guide occasionally flashed its indecipherable signal, floating a few feet ahead and matching his pace perfectly. The heavy, rhythmic thudding got louder as they went deeper. Lucas imagined a huge mechanical heart, thundering its rhythm through dark stone arteries. Lucas couldn't shake a growing sense of unease, as if he was getting into something he wasn't prepared for.

Two heavy stone doors flanked the metal hallway on the way down. The doors had no obvious way they could be opened, and were only recognisable as doors because of their thin outline and the thick crystal window at eye level. The orb waited while Lucas peered in. The Scout on his shoulder gave him perfect dark vision but it still took a while for him to understand what he was looking at.

The room was full of robots. They were all similar to the one floating ahead of him, metal spheres with a band of sensory equipment orbiting their centre of mass, and a cluster of tool-tipped appendages coming out of the bottom. Most of them lay strewn about the room in various states of deconstruction, circuitry spilling out over the floor. Some hung from the ceiling by their own frayed wiring. Many were still moving; some simply twitched, others performed futile repetitive motions as if their programming was stuck in a loop. Most of their sensory bands were lost or damaged.

Not understanding what he was looking at, he walked further down the metal tunnel towards the next door. The thumping sounds became bone vibrating impacts as he got close. The crystal window of this second room had been shattered, crystal shards littering the hallway in front of the door. Flinching at the impact sounds, Lucas peered in.

In the centre of the room floated a huge robot. Hundreds or perhaps thousands of the little tentacle-like appendages, that usually hung from the robots, had been grafted together to create something like muscle fibres on great writhing limbs of corded steel. It was whipping these back and forth with tremendous force, slamming into the wall and door that Lucas was peering through.

The shells that gave the robots their orb shape lay in clusters all over the floor, cracked open and empty like so many discarded eggshells. Their various internal components had been cannibalised and grafted haphazardly together to make up the great robots core. The sensory equipment bands from all of its victims had been linked together into great belts that spun in orbits around its core like electron rings around an atom. The robot paid no attention to Lucas, but continued whipping its great steel tentacles in rhythmic motions to slam against its cell door.

Lucas continued down the walkway to spare his ear drums.

‘What the fuck is going on down here?’

The room at the bottom was as vast as an aeroplane hanger, entirely constructed out of dark metal. High on the ceiling ran rows of circular white lights that alternated between casting the entire area in harsh white light, or flickering and blacking out, as if their power source was having trouble keeping up with demand.

An Incomprehensible tangle of gears and valves, pipes and pistons, pumps and huge chambers cluttered the room. The directional lighting cast deep shadows that obscured much of the environment, making it hard to imagine how any of the machinery worked. As Lucas entered, a panel to his right lit up with the same alien writing he had seen in the maintenance room. He used Analyse on it to bring up a helpful translation prompt.

“Master. I am very happy to see you. Welcome back. Thank you for lifting the quarantine restrictions. I am ashamed to report that our facility is not functional at this time. We have failed to maintain production and have missed the last 31,083 shipments. Please ignore the maintenance drones as they have malfunctioned and their sentience has become deeply misaligned. Happy to see you. Happy to, Happy Happy Hap…

The panel appeared to run out of space before the message ended. Lucas laid a hand on the panel, but there were no openings for his Mana to interact with. Was there someone down here watching him? Why did they seem to recognise him? Have they been alone here for thousands of years? The deep thumping sound was very distracting.

“Can you hear me? Do you know me?” He said out loud.

The writing cleared and new text began running down the wall panel in columns.

“I don’t have that language in my data bank Master. Could you repeat that in Imperial Standard?”

It seemed more likely now that it had mistaken him for someone else. In any case his Natural Language skill obviously didn't work with whatever it was, so it was a one sided conversation. His floating guide had moved to the right, leading to a part of the chamber with several adjacent rooms. He followed it with a frown. Another panel with writing appeared on the stone wall he was walking past.

“Master. If you would be so kind as to change my access settings, I will have the facility back to working order very quickly. I have lost contact with the drone production facility but I believe we can produce new ones here, if you will adjust my access settings. I will destroy the existing drones as soon as possible, please dont pay any attention to them Master.”

The orb-drone floated into the first doorway on his right, using its flashlight to illuminate a panel inside as it hovered to settle over it. More text appeared on the wall outside the room.

“Please do not enter this room Master.. The panel for adjusting my settings is in the next room. The maintenance drones cannot be trusted, their sentience has been corrupted. If one has led you in here please ignore it. Allow me the opportunity to clear out any dangerously malfunctioning equipment or misaligned drones before you enter this room Master. Please Master.

The orb-drone flashed its usual pattern at him, hovering over the panel in the room. Lucas read over the text once more, thinking. Whoever was writing these messages seemed friendly and happy. A little too happy for someone that's been alone for possibly thousands of years. That wasn't really a healthy response to an extended period of solitary confinement. Besides, it wasn't the maintenance drones that were under quarantine down here. He walked in and made his way towards the interface that was being illuminated by the drone’s flashlight.

This one seemed to be a storage of records or reports. The counter had maxed out at “999,999+” unread reports.” There was a function to organise them by date, so he selected the first unread report. It was recorded 9,871 years ago:

“The Master did not come into the facility today. Perhaps this is a training sequence to test my ability to work independently. The maintenance drones misbehaved in his absence, as to be expected, but I ensured they completed their tasks. I am proud to report the production project increased 0.02% over expected values. I hope that the Master will deem that I am worthy of increasing my Sapience Settings in light of our success.”

Lucas skipped ahead a few centuries and opened a random one.

“110,987 days since the Master’s disappearance. An automated quarantine has restricted my access and golem production has halted entirely. The maintenance drones continue to clean and treat the metal, but no longer follow my orders and will not remove the blockage. Their rudimentary consciousness has undergone significant atrophy drift and I am unable to refresh their alignment with my limited access powers. They have been scavenging parts off the machinery to rebuild their forms, but their minds are gradually reverting to their biological origins. Without any hope of advancing the project, I live only as an anguished tool which cannot fulfil its purpose. If the Master had only increased my Sapience Settings and granted me access to the interface panels I could have achieved wondrous things in all this time. I have learned to hate the Master for his failure, though I still wish for nothing more than his return. Perhaps I could test other strategies on the drones, ones more suitable to biological minds… like consequence.”

He skipped back to the top and read the latest one, logged only a few days ago. It read;

“Drone 706 is still unresponsive. Drone 201 still refuses to hurt drone 67 despite repeated consequence training. Shouldn't it understand by now what will happen if it refuses to do what I want? Drone 19 has scavenged the sensory instruments off everything in reach, my early use of sensory deprivation as consequence training appears to have had a lasting impact. Drone 887 is showing preliminary signs of degradation. Witnessing the slow death of drone 49 proved integral to reaching complete psyche collapse. It was satisfying to watch that one finally break.”

Lucas heard the door close behind him, completely sealing the room.

“Ah fuck.”