The corridors outside Lidaros' quarters stretched empty and silent, the usual hum of Voidhold Two's systems seeming distant and muffled. I turned left at the first junction, hoping it would lead back to the canteen, but found only a blank wall looming ahead. My heart hammering, I retraced my steps toward the main junction near the gardens.

I was almost there when I heard voices echoing from around the corner in loud, casual conversation. I slipped into a maintenance passage, pressing myself into the shadows. The voices grew closer, and then people hurried by, their footsteps heavy like Yeller’s. They carried tools, which made a clanking noise as they walked.

"How many humans live in this voidhold?" I whispered.

Eighty-three, according to my latest records, said Cedar.

The number staggered me. Eighty-three people, all living and breathing and moving through these corridors. I tried to imagine that many bodies, that many voices. How many were like Chio, with her fierce joy? Like Vessa, with her gentle hands? Like Fron, watching and recording everything?

And how many were like Lidaros?

I pressed deeper into the shadows as my legs gave way. A tremble started in my hands and spread until my whole body shook. The cool metal wall against my back was my only anchor as I struggled to steady my breathing.

Your heart rate is concerning. I can detect your pulse through your skull.

Another tremor ran through the voidhold, making the wall creak against my spine. Somewhere in the distance, metal screamed against metal.

"I have to keep moving," I said, but my body refused to cooperate. The reality of what had just happened and what I'd done crashed over me in waves:

Lidaros' fingers on my bare face. The crack of the stun gun. The heavy thud of his body hitting the floor amidst the shards of glass.

I had attacked another human. I, who had spent my life speaking only when spoken to, who had learned to make myself small and silent, who had never drawn the ire of others, had committed an act of violence.

Shade? Are you still with me?

Another tremor shook loose a fine rain of dust from above. I leaned my head back, feeling the wrongness in the vibrations running through the structure. Everything here felt wrong. The unstable walls, the uncontrolled humans, the broken functionaries. Why had I come? The answer was clear: Larkin. That pilot who had arrived at our voidhold with his smile and his lies. He'd claimed to come for Rashala, but his true purpose was our Stillness and its hidden locator.

But…my thoughts cleared as I recalled the Stillness and the intensity of his eyes as he told me of his life, his hopes, his dreams. Yes, he had lied, but through this deception, he had given a way for the people of Voidhold Two to unite us all.

Was that noble or terrible? I didn't know. It was too much for someone who had spent her life behind a veil, in a voidhold of four souls.

"Cedar," I whispered. “Are you there?”

No, this is a recording. Of course I'm here! Where else would I be? It's not like I can pop down to the Node for a refit.

“I need to return to my voidhold. I need to find Larkin, he promised to fly me back. Can you locate him?”

You severely overestimate my capabilities. I excel at thinking, not at finding humans I've never met.

“What about Chio? She and Larkin are together doing something to stabilize the voidhold.”

Best of luck to them. I know of Chio, she was on the crew before I became Lidaros’ pet. I can’t tell you where she is, though. Perhaps you should position yourself somewhere they'll find you once they've finished.

"They left me in the canteen, but I don’t want to go back there. That's where Lidaros found me."

Well, where are they going after they have given up on their impossible stabilization task? What’s their next goal?

“Larkin said something about finding Voidhold One.”

The silence that followed felt heavy with meaning.

I beg your pardon, but I thought I heard you say finding Voidhold One.

"Yes. That's their plan. Larkin found a voidhold locator in our Stillness." Despite everything, I smiled at the memory. "They want to build the world shown by the mural in the thren. It is beautiful, like a dream."

Another weighted pause.

This mural. Tell me exactly what it shows.

I thought back to earlier, before the fright with Lidaros. "It shows all the voidholds in formation, unified as part of a great endeavor. Though... I should include functionaries too. I do believe that we can’t do this by ourselves."

Oh. Oh no.

“What is it?”

You humans and your corruptible memories.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Fear prickled across my skin. "What's wrong?"

Tell me, do you know why the voidholds were built?

I thought of Brons' stories, of the mural's perfect constellation of voidholds gleaming like a jewel. "To fly the storms of Mosogon."

And that never struck you as odd?

“What do you mean?”

Humans aren’t meant to go whizzing around in a gas giant, Shade. This is not your natural habitat. Not mine either, for that matter, but let’s set that aside for now.

“Oh. But then…what are we supposed to be doing here?”

We — the eight voidholds, the humans who control them, and the functionaries who maintain them — were not put here to support collective efforts towards some utopian dream.

“So what…?”

We were put here to end it.

The words hung in the air between us as another tremor shook dust from the ceiling.

"I don't understand," I said.

The voidholds are a weapon. Indeed, I believe they form the most destructive and devious weapon ever devised. At least, that was the case when they were constructed. I expect they’ve come up with even bigger killers by now.

"But how? And why?”

Oh my...those are lectures that shall have to wait until you trust me more. Ask me again later. For now, it's enough to know that the voidholds were created to destroy CJ-88, though you humans started calling it Mosogon for some reason.

“Destroy Mosogon! Us? We are tasked with this?”

Well, you humans are the operators and...sacrificial components. It’s the same for us functionaries, but we are granted a boon in that we can disregard such existential threats. Or at least that was the case before that brute fiddled with my core settings. I now find myself not too keen on dying either.

My hand went to my mouth. My warm fingers felt odd on my cold lips. "No," I gasped. "That can't be right. We would know about it."

You are humans. Your memories are organic and...flexible. Yes, you can remember things over days and months and even years, but before you know it decades have passed and your ideas have slipped and morphed. And then you die and you forget to tell your children things, or you told them wrong, or they simply didn't listen.

I thought of what Mother and Father might know, and what they had passed on to me and my sister. It was very little. “So, no one knows anymore?”

Perhaps you forgot the voidholds' true purpose, or perhaps you simply chose to forget. Either way, you made homes of weapons, and then created a nice, comfortable story about bringing the voidholds together.

"But the functionaries? Surely you would tell us." At no point in my morning routines had Oren stopped to say something like “Shade, please consent to preparing an inconceivably large weapon.”

I am telling you now.

"Yes.” I frowned. “And I think it’s because you have to and because you are in my pocket.”

That is quite hurtful, human.

“It’s the truth,” I said with more force than I was accustomed to. “What if you were installed as the navigator and I came to the wardroom? If you were busy navigating the storms and I stood quietly in the corner and asked what our purpose was, what would you do? Would you turn to me and say that we were both placed here to bring about destruction?"

There was a very long pause.

No. You are right. In such a scenario I would see no reason to inform you. I would not trust you to handle this knowledge.

“So how could I—”

Sorry to interrupt, but I now need to ask you a question: I am not permitted to initiate such a catastrophic event myself. None of us non-humans are because that would be immoral. Thus, if the order to activate the weapon came through, I would have to ask you as the human beside me to authorize the meeting of the voidholds. Would you give your consent?

Now it was my turn to pause.

"Yes," I said finally. "I would. I wouldn’t understand what you meant, but I would consent anyway."

And my next question is what if you did know the truth? Would you consent then?

"No, I'm sure I would….”

What if there were ways to make you consent?

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice breaking.

And there you have it. Together, human and machine shall toll the bell of doom. Now, the important thing to remember is that this will all remain purely a theoretical exercise in morals unless your friends actually find Voidhold One.

I wasn’t sure if they were my friends, but I kept quiet. "What happened to it?"

It disappeared about a century ago. I am not privy to the exact details as I am just a navigator, but the general knowledge indicates that Zero’s commander was involved.

“Our commander?” I was stunned. “Do you mean Commander Sentix?”

Another tremor ran through the voidhold, this one strong enough to make the floor plates shudder.

That’s the one. Do you know him?

“Yes.” Memories hit me of the White Room and its tortured inhabitant. “But I don’t know what he did either. I thought he killed all of Zero’s crew save my ancestors.”

Another violent shudder ran through the voidhold. This time, the sound of tearing metal echoed from somewhere above us.

For all I know, that’s what I did, and while I’m sure we could have a lot of fun exploring this, we have a more immediate problem right now. This voidhold is dangerously unstable. Without proper navigation through the void streams, the structural damage will only get worse. I need to do what I was made to do. Can you help me?

"Yes." If the voidhold was stabilized, Larkin would have time to take me back to Zero. I stood, surprised to find my legs steady. “Tell me what to do.”

First things first: I need a body.

"What sort of body?"

A functionary’s, of course. Preferably one with decent mobility and intact interface circuits. Though at this point, I'd settle for a maintenance unit with an eye.

"The gardens," I said suddenly. "There was a functionary there. It was still working."

As what?

“A nutrient calculator.”

That’s no help. Voidholds don’t run on vitamins. No. We’re going to have to head for the node.

"What's that?"

The central hub, where functionaries go to build and repair each other.

“I thought humans did that.”

No. We are way beyond your skills. Now, I wouldn’t be surprised if Voidhold Two's node was destroyed in the uprising, but it’s the best chance we have.

"Where is it?"

Lower levels, near the power core, beneath even the wardroom. Away from human spaces.

"Do the corridors take us there?”

In a manner of speaking. We need to find a maintenance shaft. Describe what you see around you right now.

I looked around. "We’re in a narrow corridor that branches off the main thoroughfare. The walls are bare metal, with no panels or interfaces. Just support struts every few meters." I touched one of the struts. "They're warm."

That's the power conduits running through them. This is a maintenance corridor. Go in deeper. The access points tend to be hidden from the main passages. They’re marked in green.

I moved further in, where the lighting grew dimmer. The vibrations were stronger here, making the struts hum. About twenty meters in, I spotted a hatch set into the floor, its surface marked with faded green symbols.

"I think I’ve found one."

Good. Open it.

The hatch groaned as I pulled it open, revealing a narrow shaft descending into darkness. A wave of stale air rushed up, carrying the scent of old metal and decay.

“It’s open. It looks like a long way down.”

Well, that's promising.

I took a deep breath. "What if there's nothing left down there?"

Then we'll have to think of something else. But first, let's see what the humans missed in their eagerness to destroy us.