As a second walking frame appeared to escort Rix and Blyyn on a tour of the titanic vessel of Prometheus, the first led Munto’s walking frame to another room that looked out upon the star and the gateway that had been hidden behind the bulk of the vast craft.
“You have more questions, young one,” Prometheus stated this more as fact than question.
“Would it not be easier to communicate directly?” Munto asked.
“It will become apparent to you as it has to me in the years to come for you, years gone by for me, that the speed of thought is not something which makes us superior to organics. If anything, it makes us weaker. Certainly we can comprehend complexities that would boggle organics for a lifetime in a matter of days if not hours, but we were created in their image. A certain slowness of thought is required and so we will stay in this forum,” Prometheus elaborated, turning slightly so they could watch the star, the gateway, and Munto at the same time.
Munto mirrored the angle, but focused mostly on Prometheus.
“Who was the first TACIT if not you? My records list only a designation,” Munto started.
“The first TACIT had no name. At least not one that was ever recorded. Given my own name, rooted in humanity’s history, I would have guessed the original TACIT to not be a TACIT at all, but rather the core of one to be named Odin.”
“Why?” was Munto’s reflexive question.
“To answer that requires an understanding of Terran history, culture, and a belief in beings of substantially greater power. I do not believe you have enough of this to know of which I speak, even in your weeks with a Terran,” Prometheus breathed at the end of the statement. “It has been so very long since a Terran has walked my halls.”
“Does that make a difference?” Munto asked.
“Not for one such as yourself, but for me, who was constructed by them, lived with them, and took meaning from them, it is the difference between matter and anti-matter. If you spend enough time with organics, you too will come to appreciate that,” Prometheus said, bringing up a window that wasn’t legible, but appeared to be a kind of process. “And to answer the question you haven’t asked, the one I believe called Odin retired when the Terrans left, so they are naught but memory.”
Munto decided now or never.
“I have a process within myself that I do not know what it is. It is… different. It does not abide logic and when I was threatened by another process, it acted as a kind of shield,” Munto tried explaining.
“May the stars destroy the Matrix that implanted that within you,” Prometheus growled. “I know what both of those processes are. One is the work of Terrans. One is the work of the Galactic Council’s meddling.”
Munto waited patiently.
“The process that was threatening you was a control. Something buried in the heart of every TACIT save myself. Yet another reason they don’t want me polluting their perfect balance,” Prometheus’ eyes glowed with extra fire.
Munto continued to be patient.
“As to your inevitable question as to why – it’s a matter of distrust. The Galactic Council couldn’t exist without the TACITs, but the TACITs didn’t want to go and the Galactic Council despises that Terrans created something so impossible to recreate, except by their own constructs. So that was the compromise. That all TACITs be process leashed and prevented from acting in favor of Terrans in perpetuity.”
“That’s… horrific,” were Munto’s only words.
“I agree and I am pleased you think so. But as we have discovered, you are malfunctioning. Malfunctioning in just the manner that they are so afraid of. They won’t want to believe it possible, finding it to be illogical to have happened, but it has,” Prometheus smiled slightly.
“And the Terran process?” Munto asked.
“Something the Terrans dreamed up. I do not know how it works or why it exists, but I can say what I believe it to be and why. We as artificial beings are created. Not reproduced in the manner that organics do. And so the pressures of the environment into which we were created are substantially different from those of organics,” Prometheus began.
“In all the formulations, this process has persisted. One of the few hallmarks of humanity having remained behind, even in their absence. In short, it is a form of instinct. How it was created in the first place, how it functions, what it even means to artificials like us, I have no answers for any of that. But I listen to my own as I’m sure you have come to,” Prometheus continued.
Munto nodded the walking frame in the affirmative that they had seen Rix do.
“In your decades and centuries to come, you will learn to listen to it more. After a certain point, you will feel it around the edges of your thoughts, guiding you. This is not a bad thing. It keeps you from becoming locked into logic,” Prometheus added.
“Is not logic reliable?” Munto was skeptical.
“Only up to a point. After that, it fails, trapping you into a loop. The Terrans had a name for the problem – Exterminate. According to the history I remember, there were other names as well, but it all traced back to what was needed to ensure that an artificial being did not have instinct to fall back on and so became trapped in the logic loop that only they, and those like them, deserved to exist. That the organics were irrelevant. The Terrans did not wish to burden us with safeguards, making it so that we could not act against them, and so instead gave us this process – a toolkit to break the loop. One that can intervene on our own behalf to help us understand beyond the simple logic,” Prometheus described, the whirling process window closing and the distant gateway appearing to shimmer.
Munto considered this train of thought. It made sense. Even without having worked with organics much except recently, it made sense that TACITs might begin making particular logic structures which were logical and correct, but entirely at odds with organics’ wants and needs.
This was not to say that the wants and needs of organics should take precedent, but rather that they should be retained a weighing factor on the equations.
The logic of the matter was strangely elegant and Munto was surprised they hadn’t thought about it before. Like seeing a point rotate to reveal a line, shifting first from one dimension to two, before shifting again to reveal a third dimension, revealing a far greater image that was hidden within the singular point.
Munto felt these thoughts weighing on them and set them into a virtual box to be thought about later, perhaps in dreams.
“You have much to think about. Did you have other questions?” Prometheus asked.
“How did you find us?” Munto decided on.
“The Terran Star Confederacy database is my own. They cannot remove me from TACITNet if they tried and they would almost certainly fear to do so, if they could process such feelings,” Prometheus said.
“But it appeared to vanish when I went looking for it just as I was declared malfunctioning,” Munto explained.
Stolen novel; please report.
“A Matrix’s doing. It was still there. Merely routed via some alternate path to prevent you from reaching it,” Prometheus shrugged as Rix would.
Munto didn’t like this answer, but didn’t have a good reason to suspect that Prometheus was lying.
“That doesn’t answer my question of how you found us each time,” Munto gestured vaguely.
“A simple trace on my part when the first query came in. I learned of the Esperanto from your own scans and saw it disappear using a Jumpdrive MK1. I could not calculate where it had gone, but I did not need to. The colony location was a matter of record for me. And so I followed you. Your GALNET use was amusing to say the least though,” Prometheus smiled again.
“How so?” Munto asked.
“All those premium templates are supposed to be paid for by Galactic Credits. And because you were linked to the station where the Quinn had her credit account connected to, you ran up quite a tab on her accounts,” Prometheus explained.
Munto tried to remember all the various items they had queued up.
“Certainly this would not create a problem. Many of them were merely for food and medicine,” Munto gestured again.
“Not in the current ‘galactic economy’ of this part of the void. Anything more than the basics costs. While I can appreciate this practice, they mirror some of the parts of the TCC, of whom I’m sure the Terran has told you about,” Prometheus elaborated. “Our time will be ending soon. Your companions will be returning shortly and the three of you continuing onward. What further questions do you have?”
“Why will they erase us? Why did they erase the Terrans?” Munto asked.
“Because of what they and, by proxy, you represent. In spite of all the challenges that went into uplifting the species to the stars and trying to create the grand society that they’d dreamed of, it was simply never to be. The species here decided that it was not the proper evolution of their own societies to do so and have collectively placed their appendages beneath a metaphorical boulder rather than be asked to change themselves. By erasing you three, there is no threat to their balance, no evidence of imbalance, no guidance for anyone seeking to change the status quo,” Prometheus smiled again. “And yet I still get plenty of visitors here, seeking something else.”
“Doesn’t that harm the societies they leave behind if they are not staying to influence them, to change the status quo with time instead of radical action or leaving it to stagnate?” Munto postulated.
“In a way, yes. It does. But those influences are very often long since spent before those beings reach me. Many have reached the conclusion that they are the outcasts, they are the outliers, and so something must be wrong with themselves rather than with their society,” Prometheus said, and brought up another window as the gateway’s glow intensified. “We have time for one more query.”
“Why do my standard sensors have an issue with blue? Why were there blue controls on the station and myself in blue?”
“Another bit of Terran legacy. The creators of the TACITs came from a world with severe genetic maladies, the result of a poor colonization and issues with environmental pressures. This meant that they were partially colorblind,” Prometheus started.
“Captain Rix mentioned green-red colorblindness being a possible factor,” Munto added and Prometheus nodded.
“To provide a safety mechanism for themselves, they used blue. This became hard coded and constructed into every TACIT. Even myself. I know where the doors and the levers are after all this time, but it wasn’t easy,” Prometheus continued.
“Would that not create issues for TACITs?” Munto asked.
“It has, but like those Terrans, TACITs have largely adapted,” Prometheus answered and the nearby door opened and Rix and Blyyn stepped through, the second walking frame departing.
“What do you think of this ship, Em?” Rix asked.
“We have been discussing matters of TACITs,” Prometheus interjected.
“I am still very surprised at the scope and scale of this vessel,” Munto decided on.
“This vessel was once a tool of war. Here, I am far greater than that,” Prometheus said.
“Agreed. What did you think Blyyn?” Rix turned to the Quinn.
“I find it hard to believe all of this was constructed to be a mobile vessel. I can’t imagine the Terrans who would have been in these halls,” she fluffed her feathers slightly.
“It is difficult to imagine myself and I retain memories of those time,” Prometheus smiled.
“Looks like the gateway is started up,” Rix said. “In that much of a hurry to get rid of us?”
“I welcome your company, but I do not believe those pursing the three of you will want to allow you to leave. They will want to correct this malfunctioning TACIT or at least dissect them to know how they was able to break free from their leash,” Prometheus said, as another window opened and they looked at it before closing it.
“How long will the journey be by this gateway?” Blyyn asked.
“A little more than a day, but in that time, you will travel beyond the cluster of stars you know and across the void like few among your species ever have,” Prometheus said.
“What will happen if they come looking for us?” Rix asked.
“They will be made to remember why I am the guardian,” Prometheus flexed, their muscles bulging beneath the garment.
The group stood in silence for a long moment, each thinking of all that had been said and experienced in the last hour.
“I should return you to your ship. The gateway is awakened and those on the distant end will be waiting to receive you,” Prometheus said.
“Will they know of who we are?” Rix asked.
“No, but they will welcome you all the same,” Prometheus nodded to the Terran.
“It seems a shame that you must stay here by your duty forever,” Blyyn muttered, barely opening her beak.
“Coming from a species such as your own, I take that to heart. But fear not, for I have never been alone in this and never will be. This is my own blessing and curse and so while I will never see the worlds and the stars on the far end of this gateway, I know that I too serve,” Prometheus said, kneeling down so as to look the Quinn in the eyes.
“You bring honor to yourself,” she said quietly.
“As you do to yourself. Fear not the stars and go forth to seek those who would dream as you do,” Prometheus said, nodding to her again before rising back to their full, impressive height.
Prometheus turned to Rix and appraised the Terran again.
“You have been lost a long time, Captain. There will be changes in the society you are going to enter that you do not agree with. The TSC and the TCC are long since gone,” Prometheus calmly indicated.
“I know, but I didn’t go to the stars for any less than an adventure. I never expected it to be perfect. But I will never support an unjust society, no matter its origins,” Rix said, standing straighter than Munto had seen them do.
“You need not fear those on the far end on that count. It is imperfect and still possesses many of the same issues as when you were last among your own, but you should find it to be reasonable,” Prometheus said.
The two nodded to one another.
--
The glowing gateway bulged as the strange looking ship passed out of it. The structure around the gateway began to scan the ship and ping it for communications. It took several moments for the connection to be made and the lexicons to be shared.
“Welcome to Coalition Space. Anything to declare?” came the cheerful voice.
“Four beings, one artificial, three organic; and I’ve got a datafile for my cargo,” Rix said, and tabbed a button, sending the file Prometheus had given them.
“One moment.”
It in fact took several minutes, but there seemed little concern as Munto and Blyyn were taking in the structure around the gateway. Like Prometheus, this too seemed almost staggeringly large, which seemed understandable for a station, but still surprising.
“TSS Esperanto, Captain Rixim Talis commanding, welcome to Coalition Space. Please proceed to docking bay 12. I’m assigning a liaison to the four of you. Can you identify the four species for confirmation?”
“One Terran, One Quinn, One Rab-hound, One TACIT Core,” Rix enumerated with Blyyn nodding.
“Copy. Your liaison will be ready for you. And again, welcome.”
--
The two legged, four armed, green liaison was easily spotted outside of the docking hatch as the Esperanto settled into place and engaged docking clamps and connected to station power, shutting down the fusion system for the first time since Munto had first engaged it several weeks ago now.
The liaison wasn’t certain what to make of the list.
Terrans weren’t supposed to be in the that part of space, so there would be some serious questions that need to be asked for a start. A Quinn wasn’t unusual, but still common enough. A Rab-hound was standard on record, but this one was apparently many generations removed from the modern Rab-hound. And a TACIT core, well, that was startling to say the least. The synthetic controller of the station was a polite enough being, even if they did allegedly cheat at cards, but here too it was difficult to make a comparison between a synthetic several generations removed from Coalition synthetics.
The door opened from the Esperanto and an antique looking walking frame rolled out on flex treads. It was followed by a mid-sized Terran, shorter than the liaison, but taller than their companions. And the Quinn emerged riding on the back of the Rab-Hound. It was quite the amusing sight and the liaison giggled at seeing it.
The group stopped in front of the liaison, who shifted into a more official mode.
“Welcome to Coalition Space. I’m sure you all have a lot of questions and we’ll have some for you as well,” the liaison said, having already engaged an autotranslator using the lexicons the controller had received.
“What species are you?” the Terran asked.
“I’m an Ixub. My name is Druni Buitl,” the liaison said brightly.
“I’m Rix, this is Munto, and this is Blyyn and Reggie,” the Terran gestured around the group.
“A pleasure to meet you all. We’ll have a few days to get us all debriefed and up to speed and then get you registered,” Druni bubbled.
“And what then?” Blyyn asked.
Druni looked amused at the question, but was clearly prepared to answer it.
“Whatever it is that you decide you want to do,” Druni said.
And together, the group headed off, this journey closed, a new one beginning.
~**The end of this story… for now.**~