Now came the long wait. The slow fall from the edge of the system toward the planet Laetus. It would be a long four weeks on alert, waiting for the telltale flare of a missile launch. Just a tiny glimmer on a brilliant blue dot.
The Singer could only do so much to manage the crew’s morale. Eventually, she had to leave them to their work. So she endeavored to find her own work, something only she could do.
It was time to look past this, to plan for the next steps. She still didn’t know anything about the Temple, except what little the Viribus could remember and map for her. But a map of the physical place was not enough. They didn’t know how to wake the other Humans either. Their only hope was that she could find something in the Library.
But when she settled into meditation and sank back into the hole at the back of her mind, she immediately lost focus.
The Library had changed.
The cacophonous, infinite rooms were not as she remembered them. The Singer did not enter into halls of dusty shelves and books. Instead, she found a wall of drawers. Each drawer was only a few centimeters wide or tall, just large enough to hold a collection of index cards. Although as she opened them, she realized most were empty. But not all of them.
Each card contained a handwritten alpha-numeric string and a short description of the text. Above the doors to her Library now were hastily scrawled numbers and letters. If she followed the pattern of letters and numbers, she intuitively realized that it would lead her to the text the card described.
An investigation led her to realize most of what had been indexed was esoteric. She hardly recognized it as English at first. There was so much jargon that she didn’t understand that she could barely hope to guess the context. They were technical documents, but she couldn’t make sense of the charts and graphs. They more resembled magical circles from some fantasy book than scientific data analysis.
What in the world was a metric tensor?
Then she found articles that she could understand. “Post-Scarcity Wars,” one description read. Another said, “The Golden Troubles.” Descriptive, historical articles about an Earth that had finally solved the power crisis only to find itself at the cusp of a different concern. Another World War, and even in peace, so much civil unrest that society seemed to regress just to hold itself together.
And above all that, she knew who had gone looking for all this information. She recognized the General’s handwriting immediately.
~,~’~{~{@ ((●(●_(ө_ ө)(Θ_Θ)(◌_◌)_●)●)) @}~}~’~,~
“She’s just standing there,” the Seargent hissed, barely more than a breath above the sound of the jungle around them.
Eabha stood alone on the stretch of sand at the shore of the lake, balanced on the worn lichen-caked foundation of an ancient fenceline. Her head slowly turned on a swivel, scanning the shoreline and the trees. The shell – the kɒŋk – clutched in her hands.
“The Viribus say she is communing with the daemons,” Doctor Tarpeia replied. The Seargent barely contained his scoff. “Don’t be so sure she isn’t, Seargent,” Tarpeia mumbled. “They don’t know how the Human can sense these things either,” she grumbled with a nod at the huddled scientists and engineers behind her.
The scientists and engineers had constructed their detection array across the flat expanse of low-tide beach. The antennas were now fully extended, their pyramidal shapes broken to deploy each laser reflector to its six-meter length. They almost looked like the corners of a vast wire cube, with their disconnected ends aimed in all different directions.
All apparently for the sake of triangulation, though antennas this small were notoriously inaccurate.
All that effort for a noisy signal. And yet the Human had been able to detect an inactive Anti-Euclidean source from across the room with no tools.
Though perhaps that wasn’t entirely true either.
While Tarpeia didn’t know much about xenobiology, the Human seemed unfit for this environment. The fur of the Viribus drank in the starlight. If Tarpeia wasn’t careful, even the crowd of Viribus gathered in the trees near them seemed to disappear in the gloom. The Human was so pale she almost glowed in the starlight.
How could such a creature survive in this environment? Let alone somehow become a part of their origin myths.
The Viribus were naturally skeptical people, even considering that most of Tarpeia’s interactions with the Viribus were tainted by her status as an ‘invader.’ But, just thinking of the kinds of ways the various Vyrăis cultures clashed, she couldn’t imagine the disagreements between two species developing in the same world.
Unless, of course, they hadn’t evolved for this environment. The metallic disks along the Human’s spine could be some natural growth, or maybe they weren’t. Perhaps those were Eabha’s secrets to detecting changes in Euclidean space?
If that were the case, perhaps they hadn’t evolved here. Tarpeia felt her gaze drawn to the ancient bones of steel and stone all around them. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising that the Emperor felt information about these creatures should be limited.
Perhaps the Emperor’s true goal on this planet involved the Humans rather than the Viribus or the incredible ruins scattered here. But then, how did the Empire learn of it?
Eabha’s head turned sharply toward the lake. Tarpeia also looked that way, horrified for a moment to think that something might emerge from the water behind them. But when nothing disturbed the mirror-like surface, Tarpeia pulled out her timekeeping device. Dutifully, it reported the rise of the smallest moon.
It was time.
Eabha turned away from the lake, head on a swivel. Had she heard something? Had she felt something? Tarpeia couldn’t detect a change in the gentle din of wind through the leaves and the constant buzz of insects.
“Now, what the hell is she doing?” the sergeant hissed as Eabha lifted the shell to her face. “Is she drinking from it?” he asked incredulously.
Eabha’s minuscule chest expanded, and then the kɒŋk sang a pure, deep note out over the lake.
The Viribus shuddered in silent dread as the taboo was broken, and Tarpeia felt a full-body shiver roll up her spine at the sound. She’d never heard anything like it. No instrument she knew of produced such a sound, deep and throaty like a howl but somehow vibrating deep in Tarpeia’s chest. She felt almost as if it could shake the trees and spires apart if it were just loud enough.
And it was so … sad. Mournful, even.
With each breath, the Human produced a new note from the kɒŋk. Slowly, Eabha coaxed a mournful melody from its spiraled chambers. She breathed, and the kɒŋk hissed like gentle rain. Then, a moment later, its note would sharpen like a lonely cry. The shell whimpered, almost speaking.
And Tarpeia wanted so badly to cry.
This- Tarpeia hesitated to call it a song, but its melody was intoxicating. It had reached past and into her in a way she’d never felt before. It summoned in her emotions she’d almost forgotten existed. How long had it been since she last cried? A funeral? That seemed right. It was like a blade slid neatly into the place where the song had carved a space for it in her heart.
And yet she yearned for more. It hurt to feel those emotions, yet she felt more whole in that moment of grief than she had in years. It had been so long since Tarpeia had allowed herself to feel anything so strongly.
When Eabha finally lowered the shell from her lips, it felt as if a lifetime had passed. And the forest was utterly silent.
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Even the wind had stopped.
The Viribus grew suddenly restless, all attention aimed in the same direction that Eabha was facing. Their ears fanned forward, shivering with nervous energy. Each of them was suddenly on high alert – and though they nervously paced and prayed in muttered tones, none of them ran. Even the Chief, hugely muscled and standing taller than all of them, shivered with barely contained fear.
“Something’s coming!” one of the engineers hissed. Tarpeia glanced down and nearly choked. The Engineer observed an increasingly violent waveform in the grim glow of his terminal screen. Tarpeia lacked the technical knowledge to read the diagram, but she knew it was markedly different from just moments ago.
Tarpeia heard it then: Erratic footsteps that shook the ground beneath her and the sound of lesser trees splintering and falling as something huge crashed through the underbrush.
And then it was upon them. Massive and silvery, a thing with five legs, each of a different length and twisted in unnatural angles. Its metallic flesh was riddled with lumps and curling horns. It ran with a desperate, lizard-like gait. It awkwardly dragged itself across the ground, yet it barely seemed to notice as it shattered the trunk of a tree that had likely stood for hundreds of years.
Its enraged charge, however, was not aimed toward the crowd of Viribus – nor the Vyrăis and their noisy equipment. Instead, its eyeless head pointed unerringly toward Eabha.
But the Human stood her ground. And though Tarpeia could not hear it over the noise of the abomination’s mad scramble, Eabha spoke, and the thing stopped.
The lizard-like monster drove its limbs into the sandy soil with as much violence as it had appeared. With its speed and bulk, the ground became liquid beneath it. Any sand, dirt, rocks, or plants in its way were plowed into the air as it slid to a stop. Its domed nose stopped close enough to the Human that she could have reached out and touched it. It could puree her with a twitch, but it didn’t.
The Viribus, surprisingly, were the first to break the silence. They erupted into relieved sighs and awed prayer. Still quiet, but compared to their typical silence in the dark, it was as good as cheering. And once the silence was broken, the engineers gathered about Tarpiea began to mutter in extreme excitement.
“Look at these readings!”
“It’s like a radio conversation!”
“They’re talking?! Are we recording this?!”
“Yes, yes- Get off me!”
Tarpeia almost didn’t notice the Seargent march across the sandy beach in the ensuing chaos around her. But by the set of his shoulders and the swagger in his step, she was confident he was about to do something incredibly unwise. Her legs were moving before she’d even decided what she would do to try to stop him, but if she didn’t, then the next few moments might reignite a war with the Viribus – or worse, with the Human.
She barely noticed as a group of Viribus, in turn, followed her. The Chief moved stoically and nervously Karen’teh’s family – the Human’s guardians – followed.
The Human and the creature hadn’t moved an inch. Instead, they stood incredibly still, by all appearances simply staring at one another – at least, Tarpeia assumed the eyeless thing had its attention locked on the Human.
“Step away!” the Seargent called out far too loudly. “In the name of the Emperor, I lay claim-“
“Seargent, stop!” Tarpeia shrieked. Her own volume surprised her, but now all doubt had fled her about his intentions.
The Seargent hesitated long enough to scowl at Tarpeia, but he continued. “I lay claim to this quarry. Step away!” When the Human didn’t acknowledge him, the Seargent marched forward as fast as he could without breaking into a jog. “In the name of the Emperor!” He spat as he finally reached the Human and physically pulled her away from the monster. Then, holding her by her wrist, he was fully capable of lifting the tiny woman off the ground. “You will listen when an order is given to you!” he snarled, bared teeth directly in front of the woman’s face as he lifted her into the air.
The Viribus behind Tarpeia broke into a run the instant that the Seargent reached for Eabha but skidded to a halt as the Seargent wrapped one of his clawed hands around the Human’s thin throat. Sneering, the Seargent turned to them.
“Know your place, savages. Step any closer, and I’ll pull your precious little god’s arm off,” the Seargent threatened with a sneer. He pulled just enough to draw a grimace of pain from the Human to demonstrate his threat was not an empty one. The Viribus growled as one, though the Chief, strangely, remained silent.
“Then what?” a small voice asked.
Screaming. Crying. Whimpering. Threats. Even a physical attempt to escape would have surprised him less. But Eabha’s deadpan question put the Seargent off, and her calm shook his confidence.
“Then I will drag you back to Landing, and we’ll use you to destroy these monsters once and for all,” the Seargent growled, emphasizing his point by pulling the Human’s arm a little harder. The Human winced but otherwise didn’t react.
“That’s your plan?” Eabha’s voice had only the slightest waver, but it did little to lessen the disdain she managed in her voice. When the Seargent didn’t immediately respond, she continued. “You’re an idiot.
“All it would take is me giving them permission, and they’ll tear you apart. Think you can kill me before the Chief reaches you? Think I care?” she hissed, and Tarpeia could see the doubt in the Seargent’s face grow into dread. “Think I can’t kill you myself?” she deadpanned as the ground beneath the Seargent shuddered.
The Seargent dropped the Human and spun in place as he realized the source of the vibration, his hand moving to his boot. Then, he withdrew the pistol hidden there in a smooth, practiced motion. But even as it let off a shockingly loud boom, it did little to stop the monstrosity as it took a final step forward and crushed the Seargent beneath its malformed foot.
Blood and viscera sprayed across the sand, squeezed out of the Seargent’s corpse by the monster’s immense weight. Bone splinters and the contents of the man’s ruptured organs squeezed out between the creature’s hideous toes. A stench washed over Tarpeia as the Seargent’s organs ruptured, and she reflexively clamped her hands over her mouth to stop herself from vomiting or screaming.
Tarpeia had never realized a body had so much blood in it.
Eabha stood up, untouched by the gory display save for blood spattering across her front. Around her, the sand had turned into bloody mud. Obediently, the monster watched her.
“Naʊ, weə wɜː wi:?” Eabha muttered as she looked back at the creature. But she paused at the sight of the gore and grimaced. “Kliːn ðæt ʌp fɜːst,” she commanded as she covered her nose and mouth.
Awkwardly, the creature scooped out a hole in the earth with its limbs. Then, with earth-shaking claws, it scooped the bloodied muck and remains of the Seargent into the hole and covered it again.
“Gʊd, naʊ gəʊ wɒʃ ɒf. Jʊə ˈfɪlθi,” Eabha commanded with a wave toward the waterside. Then, obediently, the monster dragged itself, ponderously, toward the lakeshore.
“My Lady!” Karen’teh wailed. She rushed forward, ignorant of the still bloody sand, and desperately doted over the Human. Eabha, for her part, endured Karen’teh’s attentions with the same patience she’d become familiar with.
Tarpeia was torn away from the sight almost as quickly, a giant hand wrapped around her neck. She was whipped around until she was nose to nose with the Chief in a disturbing reflection of the Seargent’s actions. But there would be no guardian monster for Tarpeia. She tried to suck in a breath, but the hand squeezed, and Tarpeia struggled to breathe at all.
In her panic, she couldn’t determine exactly what the Chief whistled. But she recognized the words for ‘invaders’ and ‘kill.’
“No,” Eabha said, stopping the Chief and the tribe as they descended on the troupe. “The sinner is dead. Kill his soldiers if you must, but the shamen are mine,” she said, stumbling as the Viribus language lacked a word for a scientist. As the Chief’s hand relaxed around her neck, Tarpeia noticed the Human’s defiant eyes flick to meet Tarpeia’s gaze for a brief but meaningful moment.
The little god had just saved her life.
~,~’~{~{@ ((●(●_(ө_ ө)(Θ_Θ)(◌_◌)_●)●)) @}~}~’~,~
Space battles were quiet, terrifyingly so. It was nothing like the movies. You just sat in your noisy can and waited for something to blow apart without warning.
That said, the battle went perfectly. While the Manifest Destiny accelerated, the Battlecruiser only dared to send a single missile fleet in their direction. By the time the missiles had intercepted them, they’d used all their fuel – practically sitting ducks for the Manifest Destiny’s point defense guns.
With the work done to repurpose the ship’s autopilot as a missile computer, there was little left for the crew to do but pack up into the shuttle and prepare to descend. With the shuttle tucked safely beside the Manifest Destiny’s engine bells and closed in by the bulk of the active fusion drive, the crew had simply cut the shuttle out of the Manifest Destiny’s armor. None of which the Singer had been able to help with.
Instead, she was left to wonder over what little she’d found. The General, however it was that he was in the Library, hadn’t apparently found any documentation about their immortality. Whatever machine had birthed her, it remained as obtusely esoteric as magic. But he had uncovered some interesting scientific papers.
The Singer didn’t understand all of it. Hell, she didn’t understand much at all. But it suggested to her that there had been an incredible boom in the field of nanotechnology during the Golden Age. Nanotechnology resembled biology more than Science Fiction’s fanciful version she was familiar with. There were no clouds of sentient dust or pools of grey goo. Instead, it consisted of engineered proteins – a feat that had apparently required the advent of quantum computers and AI to truly master.
It resulted in a renaissance of robotics. Servos were molecular in size instead of … however small a servo was capable of being before. The idea of an artificial muscle resembling biological muscle fibers was odd to her. She’d never realized the line between technology and biology could be so blurry.
It raised some other questions to which she wasn’t excited to know the answers.
But it did hand her an idea. There were manuals in the General’s collection for interacting with machines designed to mimic nature while doing the work required of automated industry. She could hardly imagine what a factory full of such machines would look like. But the manuals, regardless of manufacturer or design, all used the same interface.
One she might be able to take advantage of if she could access it.