by J. N. Chaney
“Damage is moderate,” Sentinel said, her voice its usual placid matter-of-factness. “However, the distortion cannon and dark-lance are off-line.”
Dash uncurled himself, gasping at injuries he both had, but actually hadn’t, suffered. “Shit. Okay. Missiles?”
“Still available.”
“Viktor, how many incoming are you tracking?”
“One. Leira is—”
The Slipwing slewed hard to one side, the particle cannons spewing shots. One of the missiles staggered under the fire, and Dash knew it was shielded.
“Missiles are protected. These aren’t fire and forgets, dammit,” Dash said.
“There is mild shielding that can be ablated,” Sentinel said. “The missiles can withstand one glancing hit. A direct strike will destroy them.”
“Then let’s make everything count,” Dash said, and someone was listening. Whoever was shooting persisted, expertly swinging the shots to follow the target, which finally exploded. A mist of glowing plasma haloed outward from the blast.
Dash made to launch a missile from the Archetype. He’d only be able to take out one of the remaining two, leaving one to streak toward them with lethal designs.
“We’re going to—” Dash started to say, then paused. Wait. The expanding cloud of plasma from the missile destroyed by the Slipwing gave Dash an idea.
“Viktor, Leira…whoever’s on the controls, start evasive maneuvers.” He fired a missile as he spoke, hoping it could accelerate fast enough to catch up to its target. Fortunately, the Archetype’s missiles had the edge in velocity, and it rapidly closed. “Watch the scanner closely. I’m going to try to give you a target, but you’ll need to be ready.”
“Roger-dodger, boss!” Amy called back, sounding just as cheerful in the middle of a life-or-death battle as she had wiping hatch grease off her hands.
Dash’s missile chased its target, which streaked toward the Slipwing. In a savage series of turns, the Slipwing swung hard and random as Leira fought to keep evading the bright missiles closing at murderous speed. Dash gritted his teeth, desperate for this to work, because he had nothing else.
His missile overtook its target and exploded. Both warheads went off, quickly filling a huge volume of space around them with a tenuous cloud of superheated plasma. The sole remaining missile raced on, seconds away from impacting the Slipwing.
“Got it!” Amy shouted while opening up with the particle cannons. She couldn’t see the missile itself, but what she could see was the tunnel it drilled through the plasma cloud in its wake. Particle beam shots slammed into the missile, blasting it to pieces only a few kilometers away from the Slipwing. Its warhead didn’t detonate, which was good, because such a powerful explosion that close to the ship might not have torched the Slipwing into dust, but it would have left a helluva bruise.
Dash spun back toward the Forge, frantically hoping there was no second wave of missiles inbound. If there was, then they were screwed for sure.
But there wasn’t. Dash finally let out his breath, his heart slowing just enough to let him—well, long enough to start hurting—and said, “Everyone in one piece over there?”
Amy called back, “I’m great. That was awesome. How’d you come up with that idea, Dash? Because, see, there was this one time I—”
“Before we start swapping war stories,” Leira cut in, “we should probably figure out our next move, don’t you think?”
“Well, I took a beating and could use some downtime to regenerate,” Dash said.
“You took a beating?” Viktor said. “Don’t you mean the Archetype took a beating?”
“Uh…yeah. That’s what I meant. It’s hard, sometimes, to remember the difference, you know?” He ended on a chuckle, intending it as a joke, but Viktor’s reply was somber.
“That might be something you want to think about, Dash.” Viktor said. “We have to consider the possibility that your, ah—wounds—might accumulate. In your mind, and possibly in your body. This is new territory for all of us, and the Unseen can’t have had a perfect understanding of how you and the Archetype will react to combat. And combat damage, for that matter, especially when you’re linked through the Meld.”
He opened his mouth to answer but paused because Viktor was right. “The only way I’ll find out is to fight.”
“Or not get hit,” Viktor remarked.
“Correct.” Dash felt the hint of a smile. “As to our next move, that’s simple. I think we should go…well, there.”
He gestured with the Archetype’s undamaged hand toward the massive space station he still assumed was the Forge. The debris from the moon no longer obscured it, so it now hung over the swirling, pastel stripes of the gas giant’s turbulent atmosphere, a forbidding, enigmatic presence.
“Okay,” Leira said. “And if we get shot at again?”
“The closer we get, the less time we have to react,” Conover added.
“Good point,” Dash said. “So you guys stay out here and let me go first. I…the Archetype—well, we’re way better equipped to take care of threats because of our collective reaction time. All my best is made even better with the Unseen boost to all my abilities.”
Leira said, “Roger,” and Dash launched himself toward the big station. Dash crossed the void with his eyes open and senses on high alert.
Space was dangerous. But Unseen technology could be fatal, even in a weapon of their own making.
8
It came as a pleasant surprise, then, when Dash reached the huge station without further mishap. Sentinel reported that the station had scanned them as they approached but offered no further hostile action.
“Maybe it recognizes us,” Dash said. “I mean, if this is the Forge, and the Archetype was built here…well, the prodigal child finally returns, right?” He resisted the urge to add, Hey mom, I’m home!
“Actually,” Sentinel said, “you appear to be right.”
“It feels right, too.”
“Yes. I am able to establish a secure link to the station,” Sentinel said.
As soon as Sentinel finished speaking, a flood of new knowing washed through the Meld between them.
“Okay, so this is the Forge,” Dash said.
“Indeed.”
“And it’s in some sort of low-power mode? What the hell is up with the Unseen and everything of theirs being powered down?”
“It would appear that the Forge was placed into a power-saving mode when it was first encased in the moon.”
“Two hundred thousand years ago?” Speaking the words aloud made Dash cognizant of just how alien the Unseen were, along with the lingering question of why their tech was asleep.
“Approximately correct. This was done sometime after the Archetype was constructed, and after the Golden had withdrawn from the galaxy. The Forge has remained in a stand-by status ever since, awaiting a pre-determined trigger before activating again.”
Dash nodded. “Us showing up with the Archetype was that trigger, I guess. I also get that shucking off the moon used up a lot of whatever power it had available, so it’s in an even lower power mode now. But why the attack?”
“It would appear that the remaining power is reserved for certain vital functions aboard the Forge. Accordingly, while it could track us as we approached, it lacked the scan resolution to identify us. That triggered a fail-safe system, which initiated the attack.”
“But the only reason the thing activated in the first place was because of us, which means it must have been able to recognize us.”
“I have no further information. The Forge can malfunction in ways the Archetype cannot.”
Dash winced at that. A malfunction? In Unseen tech? Just the idea made his stomach knot up. You really didn’t want things that could make stars explode glitching out. There would be holes in the galaxy if that happened more than once.
“Okay, so we need to get aboard to learn much more. I see there’s a docking bay, I think. And it’s powered up.”
“
It is easy enough to accommodate both the Archetype and the Slipwing,” Sentinel said.
“Almost like it was made ready for us. Leira, you can come on in. We’ve found a place to land.”
“If you say so.”
As he aimed the Archetype for the docking bay yawning ahead, Dash could only hope there were no more malfunctions.
“Dash?” Leira asked.
“Yeah?”
“If I get shot by a groggy missile, do me a favor,” Leira said.
“Sure. Name it.”
“Teach the Archetype to duck.”
He laughed, and then the laugh died as the Forge filled his vision. “It’s first on my list of new tricks to learn. Promise.”
Dash watched as Leira brought the Slipwing through a force field covering the entrance to the docking bay. The distortion rippled slightly but didn’t hinder the ship’s passage. A silent tractor beam grabbed the Slipwing and guided it aboard, before it brought the ship to a slow stop and gently lowered it to the sweeping expanse of deck. He’d landed the Archetype without the benefit of the tractor, but the station apparently didn’t trust what it no doubt considered dangerously primitive technology. For that matter, neither did Dash, and he was as good a pilot as he knew. This was way beyond landing his ship on some trader station pulling a half g.
The ramp hatch dropped from the bottom of the Slipwing and Leira stepped down, followed by the others. All four gazed around with wide, bright eyes. The enormity of their situation echoed around them like a symphony made of wonder.
Amy said, “This is amazing.”
Viktor nodded. “I agree. It is. Very much so.”
The docking bay was enormous, a cavernous space that could have held another pair of Slipwing-sized ships, with room to spare. It was otherwise featureless—except, of course, for the huge expanse of space looming just beyond the invisible force field. The Unseen hadn’t hung any posters for the crew. It was all business, with the walls themselves being seamless except where access ports broke up the smooth surfaces.
Leira gazed back at the starfield making up one wall of the huge bay. “That much space, and no doors—it kind of freaks me out.”
The rest of them nodded. Passage, and stations like it, used huge, rolling doors to close off its hangars, emptying them of air to let ships dock, then pressurizing them afterward. There were force fields, but they were reserved for emergencies, being nowhere near reliable enough to use continuously, the way this one was. It was, Dash thought, like standing on the edge of a steep drop and feeling that weird pull—the one that inexplicably drew you toward the brink even when you knew you shouldn’t get any closer. He finally turned away, noting the others had done the same thing. It was an effort to shake off the call of the stars, and they all did it in their own way.
“Well,” Viktor finally said, “here we are.”
“Breathing two hundred thousand year old air.” Amy took a deep breath. “Not that it smells that old.”
It didn’t. In fact, the air smelled of essentially nothing. Again, aboard Passage, a hangar like this would reek of ozone, coolants, lubricants, hot metal components, and a thousand other things. This air, though, smelled of nothing at all.
“Actually, two hundred thousand year old air isn’t that special,” Conover said. “Technically, the air on any planet is...going to be…”
He trailed off, realizing that Viktor, Dash, and Leira were all giving him What the hell are you doing correcting her? looks.
Amy, though, just seemed to ignore his little lecture and pointed across the bay. “Look, there’s a doorway. We should go and check this place out.” The note of excitement in her voice was contagious, despite the awe they were all feeling.
Dash looked at Leira and Viktor, who just shrugged. He and Leira carried the ex-Clan Shirna plasma pistols, while the others had armed themselves with conventional slug pistols. They’d also decided to wear exosuits, but with the helmets off and slung, ready to put on in haste if they suddenly found themselves somewhere airless. So they were, indeed, as ready as they’d ever be to check this place out.
So Dash shrugged back, and then, without a pause, he led the way.
They reached the doorway, a squared arch that opened into a dark corridor. Dash switched on his suit lamp, but as soon as he stepped through the arch, lights flared to life, illuminating the passageway to a t-shaped junction maybe ten meters away.
“Well, that’s handy,” he said, continuing forward. He stopped at the junction, which revealed a corridor to the right, and another to the left, both dark. The boots of the others tapped softly on the floor, which seemed to be made of something hard, but slightly rubbery. Whatever it was, it absorbed sound and gave them some degree of support. It would have to, given that the Forge was big enough to make walking into a daily sport.
“I don’t think we should split up,” Viktor said, “but as long as we stay in line of sight of each other, we should be good to wander apart—but not too far. Understood?”
Amy nodded. “It sure would speed things up. How about I go that way,” she said, pointing to the left, “along with—”
“I’ll go with you,” Conover said.
Amy grinned at him. “Sure. Conover and I will go that way. The rest of you guys go the other?”
“Sure,” Dash said, a hand resting on the grip of his holstered pistol. “But my command for distance stands until we know this place inside and out. We’re in deep waters here, and I want us alert and close. That’s the way it’s going to be. You’re all too valuable. Got it?”
Everyone nodded. Dash led Leira and Viktor to the right, while Amy and Conover went left. The corridor immediately lit up as Dash started following it, revealing another intersecting cross corridor, then another doorway further along, and another T-junction beyond that.
“Uh, guys?” Amy called back. “The lights don’t seem to work in this direction.”
Amy and Conover had stopped at the limit of the existing light, the passage beyond them still plunged into darkness. Their suit lamps revealed more featureless corridor, the walls sapping light with each passing meter.
“Hold up. I’ve got to pick the path.” Dash gestured in the direction they’d been heading.
Leira hesitated. “You mean you don’t know, or can’t tell using Sentinel?”
“Sentinel is new here as well, but the lights are a resource I intend to use. We follow the lights.”
Amy and Conover came back and fell in behind them, and they resumed their way along the right-hand corridor until they reached an intersection, inky black and ominous. Dash just kept going until he reached the end, at the T-junction, and stopped again.
“Look,” Conover said, pointing the way they’d come. “Did the lights in that first corridor—the one we took out of the docking bay—go out?”
Dash peered back. Sure enough, the passage in question, the first one they’d followed, had gone dark.
“Well, maybe the lights only turn on when someone is actually using that corridor,” Dash said.
“So that corridor Amy and I tried is underpowered?” Conover said. “Seems like a systemic issue if it’s something as basic as lights.”
“Could be,” Dash said, then stood, head tilted, as he looked into the darkness where they’d come from. “Huh.”
“Huh?” Amy asked.
“Yeah… follow me.” Dash stepped back the way they had come, and the lights flared into life. “I thought so.” He flicked a glance back to the section of corridor where he’d been standing second earlier. It was now pitch dark.
Viktor said, “We can keep experimenting, but I think we’re going to find that the lights only come on for Dash.”
“So this place seems to recognize you,” Amy said.
He just shrugged, but Leira said, “He is the Messenger.”
Amy crossed her arms. “What, and we’re all just used hatch lube?”
Leira gave her a sly look. “Jealous, cuz?”
“Yeah, a little. Who woul
dn’t be, having all”—she turned a circle, gesturing around as she did—“of this to play with?”
Dash scratched the back of his neck. “You know, it sounds like a lot of fun—until you’re stuck on board a spaceship that’s falling apart, your suit’s leaking air, and, oh yeah, a bunch of religious nutjobs are lining up for the chance to blow you away. Other than that, my new career has a lot of benefits. No dental plan, but the year is young.”
“You’ve got good teeth, so don’t sweat it. Also, we were about to be crushed in the atmosphere of a gas giant,” Leira said. “Let’s not forget that part.”
“Yeah, yeah. That too, if you consider being pulped by howling winds and pressure to be a bad thing.” Dash grinned.
Leira turned her grin into an exaggerated scowl, making Dash smile even wider. But it faded as he looked back along the corridor. “Regardless, I’m the light switch, or battery, or whatever. I guess you guys are kind of stuck with me, unless you want to go exploring with your suit lamps.”
Amy put on a mock thoughtful face. “Hmm. Follow you, the chosen one, through your new and awesome space station as it lights up around you, or go bumbling around in the dark with flashlights?” She put a finger on her chin. “Think I’m with you, sir.”
“Sir?” Dash acted surprised. “How did that taste?”
Amy laughed. “Not bad. Let’s go see the loot?”
Sure enough, the Forge seemed to respond to Dash’s presence as a kind of key. Not only did the lights activate in response to him entering a place, but doors would slide silently open at his approach, while remaining stubbornly closed for everyone else. Occasionally, some other system would appear to activate as well, panels illuminating as Dash entered a room, but whatever those systems did remained a mystery. They might very well have something to do with him being the Messenger, but Dash had visions of inadvertently rousing some sort of nasty security system—or just breaking something important due to inexperience with the exotic technology.
They spent the better part of an hour exploring, following passages, entering compartments, threading their way among cryptic machines and devices of unknown purpose. Amy, Conover, and Viktor tried to puzzle out what some of these might be, and how they operated, providing a running narrative of suppositions and what-ifs. With all the experience and technical minds in their group, the ideas were far from mere fancy. Engineering was a universal science, and Conover battled Amy for who got the most excited with every twist and turn of their path. Viktor, ever the veteran, took a more measured approach.