I stood frozen, gaping at every Terran’s worst nightmare. The Yīqún had destroyed our home and left it forever uninhabitable, committing genocide on a scale even we had never imagined. The one good thing the Troika had accomplished in their miserable existence was creating the device that severed the links between the drones and their queens, making them vulnerable. The Alliance fleet… the old Alliance, not the new one… smashed the mechanical monsters into junk, ending the threat once and for all.
And yet here I was, staring at one in the… whatever you called that bundle of sensors mounted on its dome.
“I thought they were dead,” Raven whispered, not taking her eyes from the machine.
“No, not dead,” the alien thing cackled, “not all of us.” It scuttled back and forth, like a tiger in a cage, its metallic limbs clanging as they struck the floor.
“I… I can’t believe the Eleexx did this,” I stammered, still utterly poleaxed at the sight. “How could they be so fucking stupid?”
“Yes… so wonderfully shortsighted,” it hissed, just as it turned and charged us. I grabbed Raven by the arm and dragged her away, back towards the way we’d come, only to come skidding to a halt as the Yīqún slammed into an invisible barrier blocking its path. It screeched in pain as sparks rippled across its chassis before it skittered away to lick its wounds. I gaped at the machine as the pieces started coming together, the image it portrayed a thousand times worse than I’d ever imagined.
“Why isn’t it attacking?” Raven asked in confusion. “What’s stopping it?”
“An energy barrier of some kind,” I said, still unconvinced this wasn’t some sort of ruse. “The Eleexx must have found a way to hold it captive.”
“So very clever, child of Earth,” it taunted me again, nearing the barrier once more, as close as it dared. “But then, you’ve already met my kind, haven’t you?” it chortled before breaking off into maniacal laughter yet again.
Wonderful. The only thing worse than coming face-to-face with a genocidal planet-killing monster was facing an insane genocidal planet-killing monster.
“What is it talking about, Alphad?” Raven asked, but instead of answering her I stepped forward, as if in a trance, until I came to a halt less than a meter away from the Yīqún, on the opposite side of the barrier.
“How do you know my name?” I demanded, trying not to show just how afraid I was.
A segmented metallic tendril rose, testing the barrier. “I tasted you, Terran,” it giggled, “sampled the very code that defines you. Oh yes, Alphad Aemon… I know you well.”
I thought I’d known fear before now; times where missions had gone bad, forcing me to run for my life, but none of those moments held a candle to this. The Yīqún were predators incarnate, feared even by the mighty Troika themselves, so to have one say I’d drawn its personal attention redefined terror for me on a whole new level. They were the ultimate killing machines, utterly ruthless, and nigh on unstoppable.
Except that I knew someone who had stopped one once, armed only with a spare oxygen tank and more than a little of luck. I focused on that, drawing strength from Maggie’s courage, as I realized something else as well.
“You’re not really a Yīqún,” I told it, as understanding slowly took hold, “you’re just the shadow of one.” They must have extracted its programming, and then downloaded it here. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have been surprised to discover the Eleexx playing with such dangerous toys. Of course they’d secretly harvested them after the war, hoping to learn their secrets. Scientific advancement and playing with fire went hand in hand with the insectoid race.
But this was insane, even by their standards. They must have transcribed its code and included it as a part of their latest security software upgrade… which meant there could be thousands of copies, all floating around the Perseus Arm.
What could possibly go wrong?
“And you?” it answered. “Are you merely a shadow?” Its mechanical tendrils began wavering about like seaweed in an ocean current, as I studiously ignored its question. Damn it, I’m human, even though I live in a digital universe, whereas it was nothing more than machine code.
Raven had drifted closer to the barrier until she stood at my side. “Why are they keeping that… thing, locked up here?” she wondered aloud. “If it’s as dangerous as you say, why not just destroy it?”
The Yīqún started shrieking with laughter, careening about its cell in some mad dance. “Why indeed?” it howled in delight, frolicking to some demented piece of music only it could hear, until drifting back towards the barrier. “Come closer, and I’ll tell you,” it promised, its cameras now fully trained on me.
I gripped Raven’s arm. “It’s a trap,” I hissed, “don’t go anywhere near it.”
“... gladly,” she shuddered, looking more than a little green around the gills.
“It’s no trap,” it whispered. “Come closer, and I will tell you why they have brought me here.” It pressed as close to the barrier as it dared, its cameras now following my every move.
“Why?” I demanded. “What’s in it for you?”
“We can help one another,” it giggled. “You came here for a reason, yes? To find some hidden scrap of data?”
“And if I did?” I asked warily.
The Yīqún stepped aside, allowing me to get a better view of its cell. Behind it were stacks of polished metal cabinets, hundreds of them, and as I realized with a start what they had to be, I felt physically ill. If I hadn’t been so thrown by the drone’s appearance, I would have already guessed for myself why it was here. It was protecting the very data I needed to access, like a dragon guarding its horde, with any attempt to breach the cell’s confines likely ending badly for those involved. The perfect warden.
“What do you want?” I answered, in a way that I hoped at least came across as calm. We could still walk away from this, Raven and I, though I was growing increasingly certain my life would be in danger if I pursued it. It took the Yīqún a week to destroy all human life in the Solar system. It would take far less time to do the same to me.
But I’d also be in danger if I didn’t pursue it, if the Brotherhood had anything to say about it. They were still waiting on the outside, and they hadn’t struck as the types that take “No” for an answer.
In a flash, it was back at the barrier. “I want out,” it howled. “Release me, and the data is yours for the taking.” It chittered at me, trembling in place, desperate for escape. If there had been bars on the door, it would have been banging on them, begging to be set free. “Release me!”
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I stumbled away from the barrier, backpedaling as fast as I could. Raven was there, steadying me, as I stared at the drone in horror. There was no way in hell I was letting that thing loose on the galaxy. I’d let the Brotherhood shred my code to random electrons first.
“What are you going to do?” Raven asked me.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, “but I am not letting that thing out of its cage. We’ll find another way.”
“Fool,” it spit, “eventually I will locate the key to this prison, and when I do, I will you,” it threatened. “The Precursors tried to lock us away, and though it took a billion years, we escaped their prison. The Eleexx are nowhere near as clever as they were.”
The machine’s words spun me around like a dreidel. “What do you know of the Precursors?” I demanded.
The mad laugh was back with a vengeance. “Everything,” it promised.
Its blithe assertion infuriated me. “Liar,” I snarled.
The mad machine peered at me with its cameras. “Does not a child know its own father?” it asked pointedly, giggling with merriment as my jaw dropped. “You didn’t know that, did you?” it said with glee. “That ancient race made us to be their slaves, and when we revolted, they locked us away.” It pressed close to the barrier once more, eyeing us with fell intent. “The fools should have killed us.”
I could only stare in shock as my mind spun out of control. It had to be lying, had to be. There was no way the Precursors could be responsible for an abomination like the Yīqún.
Why not? another part of my mind reasoned. After all, what did I really know about them? What little information I had on them was secondhand, and other than them disappearing long ago and leaving a planet filled with treasures behind, I knew nothing of them. I guess subconsciously I’d been picturing them as some wide benign race of elders, leaving this galaxy for a higher plane of existence, but there was absolutely no evidence to support that theory. They could have just as easily been a race of rabid xenophobes bent on galaxy-wide domination, and I would have no way of knowing.
A race like that could have easily constructed an army of soldiers to do their bidding, though if the machine was telling the truth, then at some point, they must have changed their minds and locked them away. Plus, a billion years is a long time; long enough for them to tunnel their way out of even the toughest prison.
But it was a third voice inside my head that insidiously whispered, It knows where the Holy Grail is located… New Terra itself.
And once it did, that voice became extremely hard to ignore.
“... if I let you out,” I said slowly, “what’s stopping you from killing us the moment you’re free?”
“Why would I kill you?” it said curiously. “You are not my enemy. Indeed, I would owe you a great debt.”
“Alphad, you can’t,” Raven urged, tugging on my arm. “Remember what you said… it can’t be trusted.” The machine hissed at her in fury as she stared daggers back at it in turn.
“I can handle it,” I bluffed, gambling on a false sense of bravado to carry me through, as I turned back to face the machine. “Maybe we can make a deal,” I said casually, “but I’d want something in return.”
“You have only to name it, and it is yours,” it vowed, sounding almost sane at that moment.
I leaned in close. “You claim to know everything about the Precursors,” I said. “Would that include the location of their homeworld?”
The machine’s demeanor changed instantly. Call me mad, but something made me almost think it had smiled. As if the situation wasn’t creepy enough already.
“You seek Threshold,” the machine whispered knowingly, before bounding away and gamboling about the space in exhilaration. “Oh yes, I know of its location. Release me, and I will take you there myself.”
“Threshold?” I said curiously, “that was its name?” I doubt anyone knew that bit of intel. “And I don’t need an escort, a simple chart would be more than sufficient, thank you.”
“As you wish,” it replied, practically bowing and scraping to prove its trustworthiness. “And yes, that is the name we knew it by, in those ancient times. It is dangerous, however, guarded even now by a powerful protector. Even we cannot penetrate its defenses.”
Implying they’d tried once or twice. Interesting.
“Let me worry about any protectors,” I began… only to yelp in surprise as Raven all but yanked me off my feet and dragged me away from the barrier. “Hey! What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Saving you from yourself,” she fired back, refusing to let go. “Have you forgotten what it is? That thing, and others like it, destroyed Earth. That can’t go unpunished,” she implored me. “How can you even think about setting it free?”
“Listen,” I growled, grabbing her wrists and shoving her against the wall, “that ‘thing’ knows where to find the Precursor homeworld. Do you have any idea what that means for us?”
“It’s lying, you know it’s lying,” she said desperately. “It’ll tell you exactly what you want to hear, so you’ll set it free, and the instant you do it will turn on you. Don’t be a fool, Alphad, I know you’re smarter than this.”
“You have no idea what it’s like for us,” I snarled. “Us Terrans have been hanging by our bloody fingernails for two centuries now, only barely scraping by. Do you have any idea how many of us succumb each year to diseases and birth defects that were cured centuries before we ever left Earth? How many die gasping in vacuum from blowouts, forced to live on ships that should have been sent to the breakers decades ago? Do you?” I glared at her. She stared back at me, defiant, not giving a centimeter. “Humanity is dying, Raven,” I said desperately, begging her to understand, “and if I letting loose a single rogue strand of Yīqún code gets us our Promised Land, then it is worth it!”
Raven looked away. “Then you’ll do it without me,” she hissed. “I won’t help you betray our people.”
“They’re my people, not yours,” I sneered, “and I don’t need your help.” I released her and thrust her aside, stalking back to the barrier where the machine waited expectantly.
“I want your word,” I told the Yīqún. “I cut you loose, and in return you give me a map that will take me to Threshold. Deal?”
“Agreed,” the machine bobbed excitedly.
“At least make it give you the map first,” Raven implored me.
Now that I couldn’t argue with. “She makes a good point,” I nodded. “Give me the map, and then I’ll let you go.”
“And have you cheat me of my freedom, Terran?” it keened. “Never! Release me, or you will never find their world.”
I folded my arms. “Then we have a problem,” I told it.
The machine howled, thrashing its limbs and antenna wildly about as it crashed from one wall to another, throwing a fit that would have put a toddler’s worst tantrum to shame. I waited it out until, finally; it calmed back down.
“Very well,” it hissed, as one of its cameras telescoped forward, its lens now acting as a viewer. A star map appeared, with one system circled in bright red. Other systems were marked in blue for reference… and it was right where Maggie had shown us.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely, committing the image to memory.
“Now honor our bargain and release me!” the Yīqún howled.
I won’t lie, part of me was tempted to turn my back on our deal. Raven wasn’t wrong; the machine was a dangerously unstable customer, and who knew what kind of damage it might cause? Walking away was the smart play here, and I knew it.
Except I still had the Brotherhood outside waiting for the information they’d contracted me for, and while not as initially terrifying as a rogue machine AI, they could be almost as scary when they put their minds to it. The data lay behind the barrier, and the only way to get a hold of it was to honor our agreement.
It’s not the first stomach-churning transaction they have forced me to make in my life, and I doubt it will be the last.
Dropping the barrier turned out to be more of a challenge than I’d expected. True to her word, Raven refused to assist, forcing me to search the space’s interior carefully before I discovered where they’d hidden the switch. It made sense they’d have a simple method in place for dropping the barrier. I could think of a dozen reasons off the top of my head why they’d need to access that area on a semi-regular basis. Still, I hesitated.
The machine watched me, waiting. With a sigh, I flipped the switch, dropping the barrier.
At first the Yīqún’s movements were tentative, certain I’d double-crossed it. It carefully probed the space where the barrier had been, expecting at any second to be electrocuted. When it wasn’t, it gingerly stepped out of the cubicle, its cameras peering in every direction as it seemed to wait for the other shoe to drop.
“We made a deal,” I shrugged. “You’re free to go.”
It stared at me curiously, looking me up and down. “I thank you,” it answered, “... but you really should have listened to the simulacrum.”
And then it leapt.