Spata Zhai watched Blye being escorted away, with Velsa at her side, waiting until the group was out of sight before motioning to the other Knights. “Come with me,” he said in a stage whisper, leading them away from the shuttle where a phalanx of Aggaaddub warriors stood guard. The trio ducked behind one of the camp’s many huts as the Ixian pulled them both in close.
“Those sworn to me stand ready to fight,” he told them. “I had hoped to keep Blye out of this, for her own safety, but…” He gave them both an almost human shrug.
“We didn’t have any better luck, I’m afraid,” Prash sighed. “She’s like the weather; you can complain all you like, but it’s going to do whatever it wants.”
“So what’s the plan?” Amar chimed in.
The Ixian was suddenly all business. “You must both accept the fact that whatever we do, many of the camp’s inhabitants will likely perish,” he informed them. “There are simply too many to protect, and few places to hide.”
“We know,” Prash said solemnly, while Amar reluctantly nodded in agreement. “We’d hoped this day would never come, but here we are. What’s our objective?”
“The shuttle,” the Spata explained. “Unless we can remove the ship in orbit from the equation, anything else quickly becomes an exercise in futility. We overwhelm the guards and storm the shuttle, using it to carry our forces into orbit. Hopefully, the enemy will believe it to be under the control of their own, but that ship must be destroyed, or at least rendered harmless.”
Amar gave out a low whistle. “A boarding action?” he said with obvious discomfort. “Even if we manage to take the shuttle, they’ll see us coming a thousand kilometers away!”
“Plus, there must be hundreds of Aggaaddub aboard that ship, and you want to attack with a few dozen through a single airlock?” Prash exclaimed. “That’s suicide!”
“Perhaps,” the Ixian admitted with another shrug, “but if we are successful, it will save the lives of thousands here on the surface. Besides… think of the glorious songs that will be written of our battle against the hated Troika!” He flashed them both a rakish grin that would have been quite endearing, under other circumstances.
“Pity we won’t be around to hear them,” Amar said sourly. He glanced at his counterpart. “What’s your take on all this?”
Prash was strangely silent for a moment, looking instead across the camp as he reflected on the question being asked of him. “You know what Blye would say if she were here,” he said at last.
“‘You’re out of your mind’?” Amar guessed.
The other human chuckled before shaking his head and growing serious once more. “The same thing she’s always said, every time it seemed like the universe was piling too much on our plates.”
The former Valkyrie looked confused for a second, before bowing his head as recollection found its mark. “These things we do, so others may live,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” Prash nodded, before glancing back at the Spata, who had watched the exchange with curiosity and growing impatience. “We’re in,” he told him. “What do you want us to do?”
“We need a distraction, something to draw the guards away from the shuttle so we may make our assault,” the Ixian explained in a rush. “Thankfully, that ground has already been prepared…”
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The mood was strangely subdued as the elevator carried them down into the ancient undercroft. Kaihautu Yugha’s excitement seemed muted, the sheer history of this cavern threatening to overwhelm them. She was unsure how the creature Srijan was faring, though the hostility she’d felt emanating from it appeared to be diminished as well. In the time since the Precursors had constructed this chamber, stars had been born, flared into prominence, and then died, leaving behind a white dwarf corpse. On Mother Terra, life had just started diverging, differentiating between plant and animal. All of them clearly felt the weight of that history, as it was impossible to ignore.
I wonder what they thought of Earth back then? Blye pondered about Man's exotic ancestors. What were they looking for? And did they have any idea what they were leaving behind?
Probably not, she decided. If her own experiences were any guide, it was likely nothing more than a routine survey mission, searching for raw materials while ignoring their own waste disposal protocols. Given Terran history, humans being descended from a puddle of alien sewage seemed fitting, somehow.
The elevator slowly came to a halt, just as smoothly and effortlessly as it had since its creation. That they could build machines that survived longer than continents would never cease being a source of wonder for her, though she likely had little time to her in which to marvel at their creations. She wouldn’t go easily, she’d make them fight for it, but the Troika still held all the cards. Stepping off the platform, Velsa led her towards the raised sarcophagus that marked the site where she had interfaced with Aleph so many times before. This time, however, she waited, as the Kaihautu began to speak.
“And there it is,” he boasted, “the reason for your existence, Srijan.” The creature rasped eagerly, straining at its metaphorical… or perhaps not so metaphorical, given her knowledge of the Troika’s methods… leash. “In a way, I envy you,” the alien commander continued. “Most spend their lives seeking out their purpose, while you were born knowing yours.”
“Perhaps he will swap assignments, were you to ask him,” Blye said uncharitably.
“Silence, Terran,” he snapped. “Given what we are about to witness, you should be careful regarding what words leave your lips.”
As if that would make a difference, she thought to herself, though she also took his advice to heart and remained silent. There was no sense in provoking him. Not now.
“What must I do?” Srijan hissed.
“Tell him,” the Kaihautu ordered. A sharp jab to the ribs punctuated his command.
“The interface requires your blood for it to operate,” Blye explained. There was no point in holding back now. “A small amount will do, as I did with the elevator. Smear some on the control panel at your head, then lie down on the raised dais, and close your eyes. Aleph will contact you then.”
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“There, you see! Nothing to it,” the Aggaaddub commander exclaimed. “Time to earn your place in history.”
The creature scuttled off to do as he was bid, while Blye pulled the Ksot nurse close to her, speaking softly and in a rush. “Be ready,” she warned her, “for whatever happens.” She felt her choppy nod in reply, likely all the acknowledgment she was capable of at the moment.
Blye held the young female close, waiting for her moment.
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Srijan scrabbled up to the platform, pausing for a moment as it looked back down at the Kaihautu, as well as the Terran who stood nearby. Gazing at that sightless creature sent its blood boiling, so much so that it longed to leap back down and tear out its throat. For as long as it could remember, from the very instant of its creation, they had conditioned it to hate Terrans. and everything they stood for. It knew why, of course… which only made it hate them even more.
There had been others, once, others like Srijan. Created in a lab, just as it had. Once their transformation was complete, the scientists responsible for their existence placed them in a single enclosure to study their socialization.
Srijan killed them. All of them.
Even as it tore the others to pieces, it had expected to die at its master’s hands. Surprisingly, they did not intervene, merely watching as it murdered its purported siblings like so much vermin. When the last corpse fell, however, the researchers had rendered it unconscious, and taken samples of its blood and tissue. “Survival of the Fittest”, they called it.
The next batch, guided by cells from its very own flesh, would be harder to destroy. Srijan relished the challenge. The Kaihautu was correct about one thing; it did know its purpose… though it might surprise him to discover what that purpose was.
For there was a war raging within Srijan’s brain, between fragmented scraps of memories that had once belonged to what it thought of as its “parents”. It never knew from one moment to the next what might trigger a recollection… a scent, an object, a sound… and suddenly a cascade of images from another life would fill its mind.
Sometimes it was the thoughts of someone named Tharpen Wauzh, a high-ranking security officer stationed on Qiqougii, located deep within the Aggaaddub Hegemony. Most of those recollections were rather ordinary and repetitive, though there was an incident that was anything but, one that loomed large in their thoughts. There had been an… incident, of some kind. An attack, perhaps. Images of explosions, sounds of weapons fire, and then incredible pain that never seemed to end.
But other times, it recalled a very different existence. Those memories were far more troubling, leaving it restless and agitated. They were of a Terran named Trishna Buhle, a smuggler and privateer from a tribe called the Corsairs. She had lived a life of adventure and desperation, a far cry from the tedious existence of its other “parent”... at least until her luck finally ran out. Her ship… the Falcata… came under attack and was boarded, though she’d fought the raiders in a desperate battle, before finally being overwhelmed.
After that, there was screaming. So much screaming.
The memories become jumbled after that. Random flashes of equipment and individuals, each tied to a spike of sheer agony. They had never told it what it all meant, nor had it asked. Instinctually, it knew that questions about past lives would raise even more questions, the type of which its handlers did not wish answered. They would remove the memories, and perhaps decide it was nothing but a failed experiment, before deciding it must be terminated. Srijan wasn’t sure how it knew that, but it was one of the few areas in which all the voices agreed. There was safety in silence.
It had learned much from those voices, those past lives, but what it had learned best was to hate. It hated its Aggaaddub masters, as profoundly as it hated the Terran filth that had spawned it. All were guilty, and one day, when it was ready, it would gleefully judge them all. There would only be a single outcome, of course… Death. Death to everything and everyone.
And Srijan would laugh as they screamed in torment. Laugh, as the universe burned.
But until that glorious day, it must play the groveling lackey, the attack beast kept on a taut chain. As it mounted the raised platform, it trembled with excitement, for this was power. True power, the kind that raised empires, and sent others crashing into dust. Kaihautu Yugha’s lust for that power was as naked as a bared blade, for all the good it would do him, for he required Srijan’s abilities in order to access it. It would do as he asked, for now, doling out baubles while it held back the true riches. Soon, it would no longer need the Kaihautu.
That day would be glorious.
It glanced at the Terran, hissing in venomous madness. It hated them most of all; arrogant creatures, given the gift of the gods without merit. How dare they look at it like it was some horrible mistake! It longed to sink its teeth into their flesh and savage their fragile bodies, to show them, show everyone who was the master, and who was the slave.
Soon. Very soon. It could feel that day approaching, like a ship on a collision course. But first, it must join with the ancient machine, and learn its secrets. It had so much to teach it, and Srijan would be a most attentive student. It tore its wrist open with its teeth, letting the blood spill and smearing it across the control panel, before taking its position on the platform, twitching with excitement and eager anticipation.
Soon…
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Srijan opened its eyes, only to discover it was lost inside a fog bank. Strange sounds seemed to chitter and squeak all around it, as it darted this way and that, searching for their source. But there was nothing… nothing, but the fog. Pushing forward, it made its way deeper into the mist, its predator’s senses searching for prey. Something was here, it was certain of that. It would track down its quarry and learn its secrets… and then it would have no more use for it as well.
Something reached out and caressed its flesh as Srijan reacted with blinding speed. It snarled and snatched at the object, chasing after it as it slithered back the way it had come. A grasping vine of some sort, though if what the Kaihautu said was true, if this truly was a computer built by the Ancients, then it was nothing but an illusion… a random bit of code, designed for an unknown purpose. Still, it had attacked, and for that, it must answer. It redoubled its efforts, running blindly as it trusted its instincts until it finally glimpsed the disappearing tendril. With a howl and a leap, it latched on, clinging tightly to the thrashing filament.
Another coil appeared, this time to its left, reaching out to encircle its arm. Srijan snarled, biting down hard on the rubbery flesh, though it could not penetrate its outer hide. In a flash it changed course, wrapping itself around its torso even as it thrashed and fought back. A third vine appeared, and then a fourth, each one now seeking out a limb. It fought back even harder, redoubling its efforts, but as the coils tightened and pulled taut it found itself held fast, unable to move.
A new tendril appeared, this one reaching for its temple. It shrieked in fury, struggling in its grasp, but the vines paid no attention. With a touch it gently probed its cranium, triggering cascades of unwanted memories to come spilling out like the viscera of a defeated enemy. Srijan screamed as the images assaulted it, but the parade of unwanted memories refused to stop… until finally, a voice echoed and reverberated all around it.
… INTRUSION ALERT. CLEARANCE REQUIREMENTS NOT MET. ANALYZING…
Srijan gasped as the tendrils plunged deeper, searching out every scrap of data to be found within its mind and body. Surgical scars were examined, blood samples were taken, memories siphoned… but despite the horrors it was experiencing, it refused to surrender, though its attempts grew increasingly subdued as its strength was sapped.
Sometime later… as time passed in this strange place... it rendered a decision.
… USER NOT RECOGNIZED. CHIMERA DETECTED. ACCESS DENIED…
…
…
… RASHMI’KEM PROTOCOL ACTIVATED.
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There was a brief vibration beneath her feet, followed by the sound of a deep rumble far below, as Blye’s grip tightened around Velsa’s arm. It was all the data she needed to recognize the moment had arrived at last.
“Velsa!” she screamed.
“... RUN!”