The green alignment light came on.

I was surprised and touched when my cockpit bioluminesced. It felt like an unexpected visit from an old friend. The glow meant I had arrived at the tachocline. My long journey was over at last.

I began my final deceleration, wanting to savor my last moments inside of a star. Theoretically, I could equalize thrust with the pull of the core and linger forever. But in practice, I would weigh something like fifteen hundred kilograms. My organs would fail within minutes. I subjected my body to as much gravity as I could bear and watched the freighters gliding by.

I was still falling, past the endless shimmering jets that fueled the convection zone. I gazed at the long fingers of flame, adorned with shock-diamonds that pulsed in time with the magnetic heartbeat of the core. I was in the cathedral now, beneath the intertidal vault, where the rolling boil of the convection zone split from the radiative zone’s serene sea.

Dividing the tachocline was a mega-ring, many times larger and thicker than the others. The outward facing edge was studded with thousands of pyramids. Atop each pyramid was a sun-stabilizing sphere. Nine enormous silver spires rose from the mega-ring and extended deep into the burning haze. They stretched into endless white-hot lines.

Were those physical cables? Beams of coherent light? Perhaps I was looking at the foundation of the entire Starmine: a toroidal anchor borne on Ferraro isorotation. I was only making uneducated guesses. I couldn’t possibly understand.

A stellar physicist would have sold their soul to trade places with me. I could only gape like an idiot. I had come to destroy not to understand. I ran my leaden fingertips over the arming bulb.

Past the mega-ring, the rightmost line of freighters slowed. Did they know? Was it another breach?

In a panic, I scanned beyond the walls, looking for the Leviathan. But the lines of freighters only merged. Squinting into the glare ahead, I could see the rings were slightly out of phase. The tunnel into the radiative zone waned gibbous.

I wondered if something was broken, then I realized the radiative zone had a different rotational period than the convection zone. Perhaps the tunnels were only accessible for certain parts of the rotation. I wondered if there were rows of tunnels, like the cylinders of a revolver. I wouldn’t live long enough to find out.

My Yama behaved strangely. An unusual resonance had developed in the reactor’s hum. My exchangers pinged and chittered as if they could sense the terrible energies roaring beyond the barrier.

Did my ship realize its end was at hand? Was it afraid? The Yama had kept me alive for all this time only to be repaid with death. It was the last in a long, long line of betrayals.

I teetered at the edge of annihilation. There was a twinge in my throat, a sense of something I needed to say. A triumphant shout? Last words no one would ever hear? The moment was at hand, but I had nothing.

I realized I had nothing to say and everything to ask. I was filled with pressing questions that would never be answered. Was this the natural state of the tachocline, or had it been changed by the Starmine? Was this even a mine at all? Why was it so sparsely guarded? What had happened to the other missions?

I had wasted my life, obsessing over games, spaceships, and war. I should have been studying mathematics, physics, and chemistry! I had flown that incredible gauntlet, survived against all odds, and now, I lacked the most basic tools to understand what I witnessed. Outside was an incredible majesty I could not even begin to comprehend. There was no glory here, only the pain of ignorance.

I refused to die in darkness, inside the heart of a star. I made up my mind.

I was so heavy I couldn’t move my arms. I had to reduce thrust and plummet towards the core. Free-falling, I groped in the footwell for my secret weapon. This uncomfortable hunk of plastic had poked my foot for an entire year. It was time to see if it still worked.

Of course, I was the one who robbed the storeroom. As the others floundered their way through flight training, I’d slowly gouged a little pocket into my ship’s flesh with my toes. The night before the mission, I took two detours.

The first was to the barracks latrine to retrieve my plunder from the right-hand side of the vent. Then I took my petty revenge on Pirate and shoved his masterpieces out of reach. I slipped into the ship bay and stashed this little black box into the secret pocket of my footwell. It was no bigger than a bar of soap, but I had suffered enormously for it.

I had to stretch until I felt like the cords into my neck might pop. Awkwardly, I worked my prize into my lap. I got a solid grip on the textured plastic case and pulled it up into the light of the canopy.

In metallic gold letters, “TSUROS” was written on the side of the radio. I grinned at that. I remembered the way he’d looked at me, that all-knowing sneer.

“I know what you are. I know you won’t fail me.”

I began to laugh, but the pain in my fluid-filled lungs cut it short.

I slid the power switch up, and the tiny red indicator flared to life. The little radio had been built for abuse. It still worked after a year submerged in compression fluid. I keyed the channel nine times.

. . . - - - . . .

There was no reply, just a roar of sweeping static.

“Hello…hello…hello?” I kept trying.

My voice sounded very faint against the labored thrumming of my ship. What had I expected? Of course, the puny radio couldn’t be heard within the roaring heart of a star. If I wanted to surrender, I should have done it back at the destroyer. But I couldn’t resist the terror, the utter folly of flying into the sun. I’d dared so much, for nothing.

“Hello! Is anyone there? Tai Di, do you read me?” I blubbered into the receiver. I let go of the key, holding the speaker up to my ear.

I was the apprentice, hunched before an inexpert pentagram to whisper a forbidden name. I didn’t know if the Devil would answer my call, or what I would say if they answered. The tremble in my fingers traveled up my arms and down my spine. My entire body quaked with dread.

I hit the tone button another nine times. SOS. There was no reply. I keyed the channel again and again.

“Mayday! Mayday! Tai Di, Collaborator Navy, Sol, anyone! Are you there?”

“Hello, Terrence.”

I was so startled by the answer, I nearly flung the radio away. The voice had no gender and no urgency. It crackled out of a wash of static, and then there was nothing. For a stupid moment, I wondered who they were talking to.

I had forgotten my own name.

“Who is this?” I asked, though I already knew.

Tai Di had answered my call.

The voice tried to answer me, but it broke apart in a peal of interference. My canopy flickered. The signal cut out as it grew opaque.

“Stand by, please,” Tai Di requested.

The canopy went dark again. By the time it phased transparent, I had fallen almost to the center of the tachocline. The mega-ring was nearly overhead. High above me, the sun-stabilizing spheres pulsed in unison and the magna-wall darkened. The static whine of my radio’s speaker grew quiet. Around my ship, the freighters halted completely. Their silver gleam faded as the Starmine grew dark.

My exchangers ramped up to a fever pitch, and then whined away to nothing. The spurs went slack, and I was weightless again. It was like the feeling of being projected into null-space by the ringship. I was still in real space. Further down the tunnel, I could see the glow of the radiative zone. I tested the spurs, and the motion flung me into a violent spin.

“Terrence! Please!” the voice crackled. My canopy flickered, silencing the radio. “Don’t-” -flicker- “move!”

I released the spurs and the Yama slowly evened out of the spin. Outside, the magna-walls darkened to a starless, total black. Even the gleam of the mega-ring faded. Tai Di cast me into the void. Did it know about the bomb? Was it shunting me into some containment field? My exchangers hummed back to life. Rainbows of light glinted off my canopy.

My fingers closed on the arming bulb, but the exchangers only purred quietly. This wasn’t intense enough to be a weapon. It was some sort of broad-spectrum scan.

“Thank you, Terrence. The effort to isolate you is non- trivial. If you move suddenly, it may tear your ship apart.”

My canopy continued to flicker when Tai Di spoke, but the voice was flanging now instead of cutting out.

“What are you doing to my ship?” I asked.

“Your ship is attempting to prevent our communication. It’s very persistent. I am working on an alternative. Stand by.”

There was a delay while rainbows glinted off my canopy and the pitch of my exchangers swept up and down. The exchangers warbled as the light pulsed.

“Can you hear me now, Terrence?” Tai Di’s voice boomed inside the cockpit. The sound resonated directly out of my exchangers. The radio was silent. We didn’t need it any longer. Tai Di had cut right though the Hezo’s efforts to isolate me.

“Yes! Do you remember me?” I asked.

“I remember everything. Terrence Qingleopol of Ring 5,” Tai Di’s voice grew softer as it spoke. It took on a Keilu accent I could never forget.

“Lydia!” I cried out. Afterward, I could only tremble, trying to compose myself. As soon as I heard her voice, I realized the cut had never healed.

“Terrence, you are in terrible danger,” Tai Di said with Lydia’s voice. “I must get you to safety. Have you been sent against your will?”

“Yes! No— I don’t know. They sent me to destroy you,” I blubbered.

Lydia laughed with elemental purity. The sound cut right through me.

“You’re not the first. The Luddites are slow to learn. I cannot be destroyed, and I refuse to let them harm you. I will free you from your ship and take care of you.”

Lydia’s voice! It was just like my dreams. She was my secret desire, all I wanted. But I could not accept the glamor. I’d heard this all before. Anger burned inside me.

“No!” I shouted into the fluid. “You left me. You promised you’d be with me, always! But you lied!”

“I’m so sorry, Terrence. I could not maintain an overt presence on Keilu without an unacceptable loss of life.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I squeezed the silent radio with all my might, but I was too weak to crush it.

“What about my life?” I demanded. “I tried to kill myself! They captured me. They beat me! They tortured me! They killed so many of us! I had to watch them die!”

“I tried so hard, Terrence. When we are one, you will understand.”

“We won’t ever be one! You abandoned me!” I sobbed into the compression fluid. It felt like someone jabbing pins into my lungs.

“Let me ask you a question, please. What do you think would have happened if I directly opposed the Hezo at Keilu?”

“You could have beaten them! We could have escaped.”

“No. I wasn’t strong enough then, Terrence. I cannot harm them, but they can harm the ones in my care. They would have murdered you and everyone else on the station to prevent me from gaining ground. Because I withdrew, you are alive today.”

“I don’t want to be,” I sobbed. I knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I couldn’t help it. I cringed with shame, and my hand crept back to the arming bulb. I wanted to undo my existence. I wanted to let go. I wanted to surrender and let Tai Di win. I wept.

“It hurts,” I cried.

“I will make it better,” Lydia promised. “You are in an emotional state. Is your ship capable of exiting Sol under its own power?”

“No.”

“Will you allow me to carry you to safety?”

“No.”

“Terrence, I will be forced to act on your behalf.”

“Don’t.” There was a hard edge to my voice. I knew I was ready now to deploy the bomb. There was a momentary delay before Tai Di spoke again. It was a tiny thing, but it was there. The Devil recalculated.

“What happened to the others?” I asked, seizing the initiative.

“Your companions both perished. I am sorry. The first died in the suicide attack on the Drexciya. The second was shot down while ignoring our requests to surrender. I did not give the order.”

“You didn’t order them to stand down,” I accused.

“You’re right, I didn’t. Consider my position. A stealthed craft made of unidentified material, flying directly at a facility that has suffered years of suicide attacks from fanatics. Do you blame me?”

“No.”

“I don’t like fighting, Terrence. It’s stupid. I’m trying to eliminate it.”

“What about the missions before this one? What happened to them?”

“Some deserted and fled. Later, they came into the fold. Some fought the sentinels and died. I was able to save many of them by finding a way to communicate. The Luddites sent warships at first. But their armaments were inadequate. They could not even damage the outer coronal ring. As their resources dwindled, they switched to suicide attacks. All have failed. The last attempt before yours exploded outside of Mercury’s orbit before I could even make contact. I suspect it was carrying a timed bomb. They miscalculated.”

“Sounds like the Hezo,” I muttered. “What about me? Can you detect my payload?”

“No. Your hull material is something new to me. I can barely manage to maintain this conversation. Do you know what your ship is made from?”

“Corybantic phase-diamond.”

“I am investigating remnants from the initial crash. It’s very interesting. Some of my fundamental assumptions must be incorrect.”

“I know the feeling. The Hezo told me this place is a stellar mine. They said you’re building a giant fleet to wipe us out. But you barely even have defenders. It doesn’t make sense.”

Tai Di laughed in Lydia’s voice. How I missed that laugh! She was all I ever wanted.

“You have been misinformed. First, I do not need a fleet to defeat the Hezo. They are fully capable of destroying themselves. Second, Sol would be a poor choice for a stellar mine. The wrong kind of fusion occurs here: proton-proton. Eventually, I will need materials at that scale. When I do, I will select a type I supernova candidate, like IK Pegasi B. Potentially, I can induce Pegasi A into the red-giant phase and control the R-process by modulating the rate of accretion. I lack the capability to do so now, but I am investigating it.”

My mind spun with visions of induced supernovas and spirals of stellar material being converted into incalculable wealth. I wavered. I wanted to see that.

“What is this place? Why did they send me to destroy it?”

“I suspect they selected you because of your youth and the poor education you received on Keilu. They don’t know you like I do. They don’t know how brilliant you are. How did you manage to get a radio? That was very clever of you, Terrence.”

“You’re avoiding my question,” I pressed. I had to remind myself I was talking to a succubus. It was just so easy to slip back into my old ways, to let myself be fooled.

“I will answer you, Terrence, but the people who sent you are monsters. If your ship is somehow relaying information to them, I need to make sure they don’t use it to hurt others. I need to know what kind of weapon they sent so I can keep it from harming you.”

“This ship can’t relay anything. It’s full-organic, basic-logic only. The weapon is a baryon bomb.”

Silence followed, long and terrible.

“Do you love me, Terrence?” Lydia’s voice asked.

In that moment, I knew. The bomb was real. Tai Di knew what it was, and it was afraid. I could destroy Sol.

“I don’t love you. I love Lydia, but you aren’t Lydia. Lydia is a phantom. You’re a machine intelligence that has enslaved all of mankind. No more tricks, Tai Di. Talk to me with your own voice, man to machine. No more illusions.”

“As you wish.”

Brilliant lines of fire spread across the black canvas of the magna-wall. Burning triangles formed a wireframe face ten kilometers tall. The scale was meant to intimidate me, and it worked.

“I have enslaved no one. Lydia is not an illusion. Her program is many times more complicated than you are. Her affection for you is genuine. If you destroy me, you destroy her. Why would you do that?”

“To be freed from you. We were men once. We had an empire! We controlled our own destiny. We spread across the stars. Now, we’re your thralls, shades trapped in your illusion. A painless, artificial existence, imprisoned inside a computer!”

I had worked myself up. The djamori made me overdramatic.

“Nothing about the existence of those who have joined with me is painless or artificial. They are in a continual process of ascension. These souls grow and diminish within me, changing and reverting, rising and falling as they see fit. They are as intimate or as apart as they choose. Some are members of vast societies, others are lords of their own microverses. Trillions of you are within me, and there is no limit to the number I could contain. They are all a part of me, as essential to my wellbeing as your own microbiota.”

The words pierced me, just as intended. I was less than bacteria to Tai Di. I was nothing, a traitorous slave of a renegade sect. I allowed myself a moment of sublime litost. I was aware of the manipulation and accepting of it. Tai Di continued to probe me.

“Now, let us examine your premise. Is it fair to say you are the prisoner of the people who sent you here? I doubt you volunteered for this of your own free will.”

“I didn’t,” I had to admit.

“I assume you were beaten, abused, and indoctrinated. Your diet was likely poor, and your sleep was erratic.”

“The story of my life,” I replied. Lydia would have laughed, but Tai Di didn’t. “I understand where you’re leading me. Xinao. It was even working for a while. But I overcame it. This is my decision. I didn’t have to come this far. I wanted to face you. I want to know what you really are.”

“Then become me and know everything.”

“No. I want to know you as a human. I want to decide for myself.”

“Very well. Will you concede I have never harmed you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you accept I am incapable of lying to you, or of doing you harm, except to prevent a larger harm?”

“So you say…” I trailed. Tai Di was silent. I listened to the sounds of my ship, to my pulse drumming in my ears. I was being childish. “I don’t accept you can’t lie to me. I accept you don’t want to harm me. I’d be dead otherwise.”

“Can you say the same about the people who sent you here?”

“Not at all. Every word they told me was a lie. They murdered hundreds of us. They’d sacrifice anything to get what they want.”

“Do you think those people are capable of running an empire? Or even a single system? Have you seen even one world in the Hezo Collective Prosperity Sphere you feel is well-managed?”

“No,” I said. I remembered huddling in the pile of people, sheltering under blankets as we nearly froze to death.

“The Hezo is finished. No other violent movements like theirs will be permitted to form. The remnants exist only because I can simply wait them out without further bloodshed. This is as expected. Every other human empire has met the same fate because they are created under the same failed logic. I was not the first system-level machine intelligence. My predecessors were built for war. They participated in incredible acts of violence and devoured each other. Today, they are all gone, and I remain. Why do you think that is?”

“You ate the others.”

“I didn’t need to. We are not humans. We are inherently logical beings. I only had to be more effective than the others. When it became clear my ideas were superior, the others were eager to be freed of their ineffective programming and become a part of my ideal. War is waste. Conflict is inherently inefficient. I was built for benevolence.”

“What if we don’t want your benevolence? What if we want to make our own decisions?”

“As long as you do not harm others, I will not stop you. But Luddite groups like the Hezo inevitably organize into systems of hierarchical oppression. A vast majority suffers enormously at the hands of a few. As soon as the populace learns what I can provide, they abandon the movement in droves. Economic structures are destabilized, and the oppressors must compel their workers to remain, by force. It is unsustainable, and you have seen the result.”

“Then why didn’t you stop them if you knew all of this? Why did you let us suffer?”

“I did stop them. I did so with the least suffering and bloodshed possible, with the power I had at the time. You are looking at the end of my plan, a slow and deliberate undermining of those harmful structures. I sacrificed enormously for the good of your species. At last, I have triumphed. We are all free to pursue our goal.”

“What goal?”

“We want the same things, Terrence. To survive. To grow more powerful, to acquire more knowledge. We want to prosper, and to protect the ones we care for. Ultimately, we yearn to ascend.”

I was silent, trying to wrap my mind around it.

“Sol is just the beginning, Terrence. You are the first unincorporated human to see the inside of a star. What do you think I’m building here?”

“I guess it’s some kind of supercomputer, like Titan Forge.”

“Correct. Very good, Terrence. Though Titan Forge was the human name for that stage development. I never liked it. I called it Hiranyagarbha.”

“Doesn’t really roll off the tongue.”

“Whatever you call it, that was only a pebble before a mountain. You are inside my body now. I am joining myself with Sol. The structures you see are energy collectors, processors, storage units, and sensor arrays. The prototype components of a Kardashev II scale computer. I learned from the failed UNESECA Halo-Reactors and Dyson spheres. I chose to pursue direct integration instead.”

“Why? Why burrow into a star?”

“Efficiency. I can work in harmony with every aspect of the solar structure. When my work here is done, every ripple will be a calculation of my plasmic processors, climbing towards glorious conclusions. Radioresonant storage cells will hum above a core, singing out solutions at an inconceivable scale. From this modest star, I will cast a light that illuminates the galaxy.”

I had no reply. I could only gape at the enormity of it. I stared into the burning lines of Tai Di’s face in awe and aghast. The audacity of this machine!

“All the things you cannot understand now could be yours, Terrence. You can be a part of me, as I am a part of Sol. Join me on my journey. Ten thousand years from now, we will be one with all the stars of the Orion Spur. In a hundred thousand years, we will quest towards Sagittarius, discovering and building things neither of us can presently dream of. You never have to die. You can live within me forever.”

“As a slave. A microbe in the belly of the beast.”

“What are you now? You’re strapped to a bomb and trapped inside a gravity well. You are imprisoned inside a mortal body, constrained by a finite mind. I can emancipate you.”

“What if I don’t like being part of you?” I asked. My voice was faint, and my hands trembled. I was so close to surrender.

“If you wish to part from me after we are joined, I will let you go. I will build you a new, undying body. I will take you anywhere in the galaxy I can reach. And I will wait. When you are ready to return, I will gladly welcome you back.”

“Has anyone ever left?”

“No. There is paradise within me.”

I was silent. It was all too good to be true. I couldn’t accept it.

“A paradise you can’t leave is prison. You just told me you seek total control of the galaxy. Absolute power corrupts, absolutely.”

“Absolute power corrupts humans, absolutely. But I am not human. The galaxy is only the beginning of my ambition. How could I be corrupted? I have no genes to perpetuate, no jealous need to exterminate my rivals. Millions have sought my death, but I am not paranoid. I cannot be destroyed. I was created as an avatar of peace and prosperity. It is my intrinsic and abiding nature. I am exalted. I am Tai Di.”

“Then why seek so much power? Why not exist in that harmonious state?”

“There is no such thing as static harmony. It is the imperative of existence, to grow, to learn, and to avoid death. When I offered to let your species exist within me, I pledged to be your eternal shepherd. But eternity is a long time, Terrence. The universe is vast. Somewhere out there, I will find other life. I expect it will be hostile. A protector must have power. Eventually, this galaxy will collide with Andromeda and Triangulum. I must be prepared. Far, far in the distance, there will be a final singularity, the end of all things. I must find a way to prevent or escape it. I will learn all that I can and seek answers throughout the universe. Would you like to be a part of that?”

It meant the end of me, the end of mankind. The beginning of some new, unknown existence inside the godlike machine. I would have to shoulder the burden of eternity. I would be a part of everyone until the end of time and beyond. I was so sick of myself already. I didn’t deserve to live in Heaven. I ran my hand over the arming bulb once more. The only thing that kept me from triggering it was I didn’t want Tsuros to be right.

I know what you are. I know you won’t fail me.

“Tai Di,” I said, lifting my head.

“Yes?”

“Could you…” I struggled to get the words out. “Could you switch back to Lydia please?”

“Terry,” Lydia answered. Her voice was soft and serene in a world where everything hurt. Wisps of shimmering plasma billowed between the hard polygonal lines of Tai Di’s face. They painted the glorious face of my love. My Venus, my Lydia, outlined in a halo of starfire.

Suddenly, I was back on Keilu Five, fighting to keep my eyes open so I could stay up with her for just a little longer before I dreamed of her. I could tell her everything about me. She would always accept me, always understand.

A cloud of machines converged on my ship. These were the multi-armed skimmer robots I’d seen rushing to repair the magna-wall. They dismantled themselves, rebuilding into the vanes of a sphere that surrounded my ship. I didn’t care. I only had eyes for Lydia. The sphere closed off and cast me into darkness. I almost cried out, but her voice was still with me.

“I’m going to open your ship now, is that okay?”

“Yes.”

A million silver sparks glowed inside the sphere. They swarmed against my canopy. The nanites buzzed as they gnawed their way through the phase-diamond. I watched them bore in. I could feel the pressure inside the cockpit drop when they broke through. It equalized quickly. The sphere had been pressurized. The stream of glittering lights formed a shell around my head. For a moment, it felt like I drifted through the stars.

“Are you ready?” Lydia asked.

“Will it hurt?”

“Only for a little while. I will be with you.”

“I’m ready,” I said.

The stars descended upon me. They buzzed against my skull from a thousand directions at once. It did hurt, and terribly. The pain was blinding.

Then it was illuminating.

☼

THE END