Blake's boots crunched across a carpet of metal shavings. The morning light cast long shadows through the twisted hulks of derelict ships, their broken forms jutting from mountains of scrap like ancient bones.
Eland's massive frame led the way, pausing occasionally to scan the horizon with some device that resembled a brass telescope crossed with a kaleidoscope.
"Watch your step here." Eland gestured toward a section of ground that shimmered with an oily rainbow sheen. "Reactor coolant. Still active after all these centuries."
Blake stepped wide around the liquid, watching the threat indicators flash amber across his display. "How long's this crap been leaking out here?"
"That particular wreck?" Eland pointed to a vessel that resembled a massive conch shell carved from bronze and crystal. "That's a Luminaris Guild exploration vessel. Must be... six thousand years old, at least. They were remarkable explorers, pushed the boundaries of known space. Then one day, they simply vanished. Left behind nothing but empty outposts and ghost ships like this one."
"Jesus." Blake ran his hand along a piece of the hull. Despite its age, the metal still held a warm glow. "And the Autochthon just... collected it all?"
"Indeed. Their hunger for knowledge seems infinite." Eland's voice carried a note of reverence and fear. "They gather artifacts and technology from across billions of worlds, study what interests them, then discard the rest here and on other depot worlds."
They crested a hill of compacted debris. The landscape stretched endlessly, a sea of broken dreams and discarded treasures under alien constellations.
"Look there." Eland pointed to a massive structure that resembled a cathedral made of black glass. "That's from the Edge of Dawn civilization. And there-" He indicated a cluster of geometric shapes that hurt Blake's eyes to look at directly. "That's what remains of a Möbius Archive. The Autochthon's reach extends across time and space. They take what they want, study it, then..." He kicked a piece of scrap, sending it skittering down the slope.
Blake studied the vast graveyard of civilizations. "Seems wasteful," he said. "All this technology, just rusting away."
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Eland raised his hands, palms up. A soft golden glow emanated from his skin, and the air rippled like heat waves rising from hot asphalt. A twisted hunk of metal the size of a bus lifted from the ground, drifting aside with the grace of a leaf on the wind.
"Holy shit." Blake's jaw dropped. The display lit up with measurements - energy readings, mass calculations, gravitational displacement. None of it made sense.
"Simple application of mana manipulation." Eland's voice remained steady despite the strain evident in his posture. "The universe provides us endless energy. We need only learn to channel it."
Behind the cleared debris sat their prize - a pristine power coupling, its crystalline core still pulsing with a faint blue light. Blake moved to retrieve it while Eland held the wreckage aloft.
"Got it." Blake secured the coupling in his pack. "That's three down, two to go."
Eland lowered his hands. The massive debris settled back with a ground-shaking thud. Sweat beaded on his cetacean features. "The next component should be-"
A screech of tearing metal cut him off. Eland thrust out his arm, and a translucent barrier sprang into existence. A cascade of falling debris bounced harmlessly off the shield.
"My apologies." Eland's breathing steadied. "Sometimes the piles shift unexpectedly. Shall we continue?"
They pressed on through the labyrinth of wreckage. At each salvage site, Eland demonstrated new aspects of his abilities—condensing moisture from the air to clean corroded parts, generating precise force fields to extract delicate components, and even accelerating the natural decay of fusion cells to render them safe for transport.
Blake watched it all through his HUD, trying to correlate the energy signatures with the effects. The display highlighted patterns in the flow of power, showing how Eland shaped raw energy into specific forms. It was like watching a master craftsman at work, except the tools were invisible and the laws of physics seemed more like polite suggestions.
None of it made a lick of sense, but it was interesting to watch.
"The principles are universal," Eland said, catching Blake's studying gaze. "Humans possess the same potential. Your world simply lacks the proper understanding."
Blake barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Right. Give me a few years and I'll be shooting mind bullets at the bad guys." He patted his pistol in its shoulder holster. "Gonna need something to replace these rounds sooner or later."
"I'm quite serious." Eland's face remained earnest, those huge eyes fixed on Blake. "The basics aren't beyond your grasp. Once we've addressed the ship's critical systems, I could begin your instruction."
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The laughter withered to silence. Eland's face remained steady, those alien features betraying no trace of a lie or jest. Blake's lungs seized, his ribs constricting around a strange sensation - equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.
"I... thanks, Eland. That means a lot."
They pressed deeper into the maze of wreckage, their boots kicking up clouds of metallic dust that sparkled in the alien sunlight.
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The alien sun climbed. No mercy. Twisted metal canyons threw knife-edge shadows across the ground. Blake's shoulders burned, muscles screaming from hours of salvage work. Sweat ran in rivulets down his spine, soaking through his shirt. That alien suit would've been useful right about now—temperature regulation. Clean environment. Simple luxuries.
Suddenly, as if thinking about the suit triggered it, his HUD started acting up. The display spasmed, throwing random digits across his vision like digital confetti. He blinked. Didn't help. Numbers kept dancing.
He tapped the side of his head. "Display's glitching."
The HUD strobed. Pixels fractured. Then came the whine - high, piercing, wrong. Static electricity danced across his skin. The feeling crept up his vertebrae, one by one, until it found the soft spot where skull met spine. Something was there. Barely there. But there.
Blake watched Eland's massive eyes snap wide, pupils dilating in the dim light. "Fascinating energy signature. Unlike anything I've encountered." The alien pulled out some kind of sensor, its crystalline surface throwing off pulses of light as he waved it over Blake's body.
A sensation tickled the back of Blake's consciousness, like a half-forgotten memory trying to surface. "I can feel... something. Like a faint whisper at the back of my mind."
"Your suit is reacting to something... or perhaps it's initiating contact." Eland's fingers danced across the sensor's display, his features locked in concentration.
"Contact with what?" The whisper grew more insistent, pulling at Blake's attention. His eyes were drawn to a nearby pile of ancient wreckage, its hull plating eaten away by centuries of exposure.
"Analysis complete," Zephyr's voice cut through the tension. "The symbiotic matrix appears to be operating at minimal power, but it's attempting to establish a connection with something in that debris field. The energy patterns suggest compatibility with the suit's core systems."
The static in Blake's head built to a crescendo, and he tasted copper, sharp and metallic on his tongue.
Eland's footsteps thundered across the ground. "Zephyr, triangulate that energy signature."
"Twenty meters ahead, buried under just over two metric tons of debris," Zephyr said. "Caution advised. You will collapse that pile if you start digging."
A fog crept through Blake's brain like a hangover, making his thoughts sluggish and unfocused. A detached part of him found it amusing that an alien supercomputer was speaking metric. His thoughts drifted to the microscopic machines coursing through his system. Way to go, tiny robot buddies.
Metal shrieked. Blake braced against a mangled beam, watching. Eland attacked the wreckage with brutal efficiency. Alien musculature rippled. Armored plates shifted. Hull metal peeled away in his grip like tissue paper. A support beam gave up with a groan. Debris avalanched onto his massive shoulders.
Without any conscious thought, Blake began to move towards Eland. He had to find... something.
Eland kept digging. Didn't hesitate. Didn't pause. His movements stayed precise, mechanical, even as twisted metal threatened to entomb him. More wreckage crashed down. Shrapnel pinged off the organic armor plating his spine. In a resounding thunder, a huge collection of random junk slid off its perch and crashed onto Eland, obscuring him from view.
Blake didn't stop moving. The noise and the sight of his friend being crushed under the falling metal didn't even slow his groggy mechanical stride. Eland was fine. He'd have what Blake was looking for. Distantly, as if through a haze only he could perceive, he saw Eland emerge from the collapsing heap. In his massive hands, he held a cube of strange bright safety orange material. It was all Blake could focus on. It was important somehow, if he could just…
Something inside him cut off abruptly. The fog lifted, the static in his brain ceased, and Blake was himself again. Admittedly, he was exhausted and his head was pounding, but he could think.
He stumbled back, heart hammering against his ribs. His hands clawed at his chest where the suit had presumably with his flesh. "Get it out. Whatever this thing is, it's in my head."
"Blake-"
"No. You don't understand. It was controlling me. Pulling me towards that thing like a puppet." The memory of that foreign presence in his mind sent ice through his veins. He'd survived mind games in interrogation rooms, kept his sanity through sleep deprivation and psychological warfare. But this? This was different. This was invasion.
Eland set the orange cube down and raised his massive hands. "The suit cannot control you. It responds to your unconscious processes, but you remain in command."
"Bullshit. I felt it." Blake's fingers found the edge where suit met skin. He dug his nails in, trying to pry it loose.
"Stop." Eland's voice carried the weight of command. "You'll harm yourself."
"Initial scan complete," Zephyr announced. "The device is a Tylwith flight recorder. Standard issue on their long-range vessels."
Blake froze, hands still pressed against his chest. "A black box?"
"Correct. The suit likely detected its broadcast signature." Eland moved closer, each step measured. "Your enhanced neural network interpreted that signal as sensory input. Nothing more."
Blake forced himself to breathe. Count to four. Hold. Release. The familiar rhythm of combat breathing settled his nerves. "So it wasn't... controlling me?"
"No more than your own reflexes control you when you catch yourself from falling." Eland gestured to the cube. "The suit recognized something important and drew your attention to it. Like muscle memory, but with advanced technology."
The explanation made sense. Blake's hands dropped to his sides. The panic receded, replaced by embarrassment at his outburst. "Sorry. I just..."
"You've experienced significant changes in a short time. Your reaction is understandable."
A new thought slammed into Blake. "You said the guy I got this suit off of was a noble. And now you're telling me that the suit is looking for ways to phone home, like that black box potentially.
"How much trouble will I be in if these guys find out about me?"